This is a last minute one for perfectpractitioner and elite-guardsman!

The last time I allowed him time to himself--his attempt at 'spark-searching'--he came away tortured and violated.

Trust is not the issue. He is self-sufficient and independent. I know he can take care of himself. What I cannot control, however, is the actions of others--of those who might want to hurt him.

"So … that’s that."

He tried to keep his voice light as he stared at the diagnostics report.  No cure.  No miracle drugs. No replacement possible.  The words jittered in front of him as his hand shook.

A hand settled gently over his.  A hand identical to his. 

"I’m sorry, Claret."  There, now.  He had at least one fake smile left.  "I don’t want to make a scene.  I know what that’s like.  Annoying!"

He stared blankly at the datapad again.  A month.  Two at most.

"Well.  I’d better go.  I need to—talk to Smokescreen and tell him—yes. Anyway. Goodbye."  

He turned his back to his alternate, but didn’t leave.  

"Claret—I know you’ve had doubts and demons ever since … ever since what happened to you, but—"  

He looked back, reaching out to catch those so-familiar fingertips with his own.

"For what it’s worth—I’m glad you were here."

Dramatic

Resentful