[Horror makes his stomach twist. He's seen corpses before, corpses torn to pieces and tortured or just shot or just stabbed or that had been floating in stagnant water for a week, and he'd faced down all of them and watched the autopsies with equanimity until he'd gotten used to it all. He'd even participated in some of the autopsies, to learn how the data that would eventually win him cases was acquired. All of that, though, was so different from this - different from this girl shaking and hurting under his hand.
His eyes well up just once before he clamps down on his misery. He doesn't cry. Not when he's awake.
Somehow he gets out the metal. Somehow he succeeds. And he thinks that's the last of it - hopes fervently that's the last of it; he sits back and touches her forehead and tries not to retch in turn.]
no subject
His eyes well up just once before he clamps down on his misery. He doesn't cry. Not when he's awake.
Somehow he gets out the metal. Somehow he succeeds. And he thinks that's the last of it - hopes fervently that's the last of it; he sits back and touches her forehead and tries not to retch in turn.]
It's all right. That's it. No more.