[Will's father taught him things that would last him for a lifetime: how to fish, how to fix boats, how to be frugal, humble, enjoy the simple things in life, to accept that sometimes people just leave for reasons he may never know, that pressing them or hunting them down when they don't want to be found isn't the way to go about it, that he has to let go of things sometimes, that he can't catch people the way he can catch fish—his mother, specifically. Surrounded by the FBI's database where all he'd have to do is type in a few letters, a few area codes, search a bit, sniff her out, and he could find her. Find where she went, what had happened, find out if she was dead or alive. If she was married and had children that she loved. If she had moved onto something better than a gruff man who seemed to love her and a son that thought he remembered a woman being in their little house but that couldn't have been right.
A child as young as him could never remember that. Not the sound of her voice, the length and color of her hair, not warmth he felt when he sprawled out against her, not the smell of her perfume or anything else. It was all fake, shoved into his "memories" by an imagination that was too expansive for anyone sane to be comfortable with. He still dreamed of those fake memories while being unable to remember the one he needed more than air or food or drink.
Wide, frightened, angry eyes—was that the last look Abigail had given him? Oh, she'd been scared (had he seemed that sick?) and angry, shocked, but when she'd last seen him, had she been disgusted more than anything else?
Disgust, at least, was something that Will would be used to seeing on people's faces. But from Abigail Hobbs?
Failure after failure. One person in the world he'd been set up to save, to help, and he couldn't. Just one person, and he'd thrown it all away. Or, more accurately, someone threw her away for him.]
Not exactly. [He scratches his head; how to explain this?] There is a. Method. Known as euthanasia. Mostly used for older or injured animals that won't have a better life no matter what. It eases the pain and they pass into...it's very calm and quiet. Usually. A way to let them go without them suffering any longer. Generally a kind way to help and relieve.
[But he's seen things. Places that don't do it properly, places that get shut down and have skeletons other than an employee who steals from the kitty (hah) or something humans do to humans that is to be expected. He's not going to mention it, but the way he looks off at what must be his own dog screams he knows worse can happen.]
I lived alone back where I'm from. [Bullshit. He realizes it and sighs. What a Goddamn loser Will is.] Have a house, some land, dogs. Seven dogs. [One day, he'll have fourteen. Seven brides for seven bond brothers, such happiness.] So. Having other people nearby is very strange for me.
[That's one word for it. He avoids the hell out of them if he can. He doesn't need to live in a house where he picks up on everyone's issues and feelings and says something they don't want to hear about themselves by accident.
Nobody likes that guy.
Which means nobody likes Will, because he's the only one who can do what he does like he does it. Caring is difficult? He likes to think that one applies to him, shaggy, dirty, ugly mess of a man that he is.
He doesn't address the thank you. He doesn't need to keep mentioning it. She'll come in her own time or she won't; he can't name a lure after Annie and fish with it. She's not Abigail Hobbs and she's not a stray. He won't treat her like either.]
NO U
A child as young as him could never remember that. Not the sound of her voice, the length and color of her hair, not warmth he felt when he sprawled out against her, not the smell of her perfume or anything else. It was all fake, shoved into his "memories" by an imagination that was too expansive for anyone sane to be comfortable with. He still dreamed of those fake memories while being unable to remember the one he needed more than air or food or drink.
Wide, frightened, angry eyes—was that the last look Abigail had given him? Oh, she'd been scared (had he seemed that sick?) and angry, shocked, but when she'd last seen him, had she been disgusted more than anything else?
Disgust, at least, was something that Will would be used to seeing on people's faces. But from Abigail Hobbs?
Failure after failure. One person in the world he'd been set up to save, to help, and he couldn't. Just one person, and he'd thrown it all away. Or, more accurately, someone threw her away for him.]
Not exactly. [He scratches his head; how to explain this?] There is a. Method. Known as euthanasia. Mostly used for older or injured animals that won't have a better life no matter what. It eases the pain and they pass into...it's very calm and quiet. Usually. A way to let them go without them suffering any longer. Generally a kind way to help and relieve.
[But he's seen things. Places that don't do it properly, places that get shut down and have skeletons other than an employee who steals from the kitty (hah) or something humans do to humans that is to be expected. He's not going to mention it, but the way he looks off at what must be his own dog screams he knows worse can happen.]
I lived alone back where I'm from. [Bullshit. He realizes it and sighs. What a Goddamn loser Will is.] Have a house, some land, dogs. Seven dogs. [One day, he'll have fourteen. Seven brides for seven bond brothers, such happiness.] So. Having other people nearby is very strange for me.
[That's one word for it. He avoids the hell out of them if he can. He doesn't need to live in a house where he picks up on everyone's issues and feelings and says something they don't want to hear about themselves by accident.
Nobody likes that guy.
Which means nobody likes Will, because he's the only one who can do what he does like he does it. Caring is difficult? He likes to think that one applies to him, shaggy, dirty, ugly mess of a man that he is.
He doesn't address the thank you. He doesn't need to keep mentioning it. She'll come in her own time or she won't; he can't name a lure after Annie and fish with it. She's not Abigail Hobbs and she's not a stray. He won't treat her like either.]