Yeah, Carver thinks. He knows pieces of this from his brothers, his sisters. The quiet sort of melancholy in remembering. Pain is a lesson, Pope used to say. Only, sometimes Carver wonders if that's really true. If maybe pain isn't just pain, and then you make something of it in the aftermath.

"I never left," Carver says after a moment, very quietly. "I don't think I ever would have."

There was nothing left. No place for him except in the Reapers. Who else would have him?

He shakes his head, and keeps braiding her hair. Keeping it smooth, and even.

"He only hit me once," Carver adds. Quiet, like before. "Pope. Really hit me, I mean. And the rest was just what we did."