That's the problem. They keep their heads down, they run. They do it again and again, until they die because they get exhausted. "Joshua," he breathes out, aching for touch and relief and a promise that it will all get better, but he screwed that up the moment that he'd shot that ranger. "What kind of life is that?"

What kind of life for him, but what kind of life for Faraday, too? Selfishly, Vasquez is a man infatuated and in love, he wants to protect him and to please him. This setback does neither.

"What if you'd been later? What if they'd decided to shoot?" He grunts, stroking his fingers over his mare's hair, feeling really strained. "We got lucky. I already am very lucky, I know," he swears. "I tricked myself, I think. I thought it would be different."