comeuppance

Samuel

We can leave life for tomorrow
Or grieve all that we thought we’d do

Wessex still threatened him, still terrified him, but Sam saw two glimpses of human weakness in her, dents in her armour: first the second of surprise in her eyes as he spoke back then the more obvious hitch in her voice when she spoke of Rex. The second made him suddenly feel rather sorry for Wessex, which was not an emotion he was used to.

Still, she continued and even threw the knife, though luckily it bounced into the wall behind him (he ducked instinctively anyway, hands going over his head, somewhat ruining his attempt to be tough). Sam straightened himself back up and looked at her for a moment, wondered if he owed a response to someone who would resort to violence like this, when it was so clear who the victor would be.

But maybe he owed it to himself, to speak on his own behalf for once. "I can't stop myself from ever making mistakes. None of us can. But...I'm trying to learn how to be of more use in fights..." As he said this he thought of Remi, sweet gentle Remi, assuring him he didn't need to fight to succeed. A nice ideal, but unrealistic. "And I've learnt that my friends, no matter how much they love me, won't understand The Voice. So there's no reason to tell them anything new."

A sad realisation, but a true one. "I did not mean for any harm to come to Rexanna. It did and I was...horrified. I was ready to give myself for her healing, but I didn't need to, as it turned out. Wessex, I am not the enemy here. Please. I'm just..." He pushed a hand through his hair. "I'm just very new to all of this fighting and action and secrecy and I'm trying to learn how it works." Surprised at his own eloquence and steadiness he waited to see if his words would make any difference.

Or make each moment new