The Midwife's Wards

Phoebe was too kind to realize just how deeply Loren’s need to be useful and present was, how ingrained it was in every part of him. He’d been bred and raised to serve the interests of others, and he could never absolve himself of the fact that he’d failed in that duty. ”Maybe. But I wasn’t there to know if I would’ve made a difference. And I think, in enough cases, I would have. That's probably self-centered of me, but pride is the least of my sins. So if my options are forgiveness for myself or insanity, I’ll go insane .” Maybe the healer shouldn’t have put the choices so starkly, given how often he seemed to flirt with madness. When she asked why he rejected help, his eyes grew hard and icy again. Still, his voice was mostly neutral as he spoke. ”Because I’m not a project. I don’t need to be protected, or coddled, or fixed. And I certainly don’t need people’s beliefs and desires about who I am and who I should be to change what I want for myself.” He’d never had a chance to discover who he was under all the layers of responsibility and guilt. Now that he had a chance, though, it seemed that everyone had an opinion. And worse, they all wanted to weigh in on it. Indeed, he couldn’t think of any other reason why the midwife would’ve brought up the kiss Remi asked for as she had, other than wanting to tell the summoner he was better than that, or deserved better than that, or some such nonsense. ”Alright. I don’t hate you now.” Hatred was exhausting: he just wanted to be left alone to figure out what he wanted from life. Maybe not what he deserved, because he didn’t think he deserved much of anything. But at least what he needed, then. LOREN Not quite an open book