You don't know who I was. Fuck, I don't even know that.

He pulls her close, as if he's worried she might slip away, that he would lose her as an anchor. Sweeney presses his face into her hair, not a nuzzle, just a way to hide from an uncomfortable subject and fight to stay himself. No matter how well he's doing, thinking on the others too much is risky.

"It ain't just you I'm lookin' ta protect," he whispers, swallowing hard after.

"Hate myself fer a lotta things." His lips thin, but he forces his way further.

"Don't wanna carry that 'round with me. E'en if you'd forgive me...I'm not ready ta live with knowin' I did somethin' ta ya, thinkin' I was right ta do it." Righteous violence.

"Please, Annie." He swallows and kisses her head. "Just give me this one." The request is humble, for there's nothing else he has. The burden of the thought is already so much to bear.

"Just make it the second an' I'll be just fer you."