He lets Vasquez move away, and for a brief second, he wonders if he should have, wonders if he should have made a grab for the other man to keep him in place.
That inclination abruptly leaves him as Vasquez speaks, and Faraday's blood runs cold. His pulse pounds in his ears at those words, something like disgust and shock writhing in his gut, and maybe Vasquez expected the words to feel like a taunt, like a bait, like an easy jab to lure Faraday into a fight.
Instead, Faraday just feels like he's been gutshot.
It hits too close to home. It dredges up all those old fears he felt on the road – that eventually Vasquez would tire of him. That eventually he'd feel shackled by Faraday's infirmity, by the old wounds that still plagued him. That Faraday's mere presence would be like a ball and chain, slowing him down.
Vasquez poses that question to him once again, and Faraday just blinks at him, his expression a weird mixture of dismay and nausea and—
(heartbreak.)
—remorse.
For a long while, he's silent, ducking his head and scrubbing at his face, before he can finally muster his voice to speak.
"That's what this was to you?" he asks, voice little more than a bitter croak. "I trapped you?"
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winterfish
no subject
Date: 2018-12-11 09:38 am (UTC)That inclination abruptly leaves him as Vasquez speaks, and Faraday's blood runs cold. His pulse pounds in his ears at those words, something like disgust and shock writhing in his gut, and maybe Vasquez expected the words to feel like a taunt, like a bait, like an easy jab to lure Faraday into a fight.
Instead, Faraday just feels like he's been gutshot.
It hits too close to home. It dredges up all those old fears he felt on the road – that eventually Vasquez would tire of him. That eventually he'd feel shackled by Faraday's infirmity, by the old wounds that still plagued him. That Faraday's mere presence would be like a ball and chain, slowing him down.
Vasquez poses that question to him once again, and Faraday just blinks at him, his expression a weird mixture of dismay and nausea and—
(heartbreak.)
—remorse.
For a long while, he's silent, ducking his head and scrubbing at his face, before he can finally muster his voice to speak.
"That's what this was to you?" he asks, voice little more than a bitter croak. "I trapped you?"