Vasquez

"What I want I accept will never happen, Aleja. I accepted that a lot of years ago," he says, still not looking at her, staring straight ahead. "I stay here because in the end, maybe I can do some good, but I have lived my entire life here alone in that house, with a few trips to the church a week, meeting up with Wyatt at his homestead. That's it. I was a fairly sickly child, raised to keep books as I do for some of the businesses in town, and without a life beyond that."

He tries to keep his voice soft, even, flat if he can avoid the pain he feels speaking about this. It's one thing living it. Another to be honest about it.

"I'm sorry I did anything to make them think that of you. I shouldn't have brought you here, for your sake," he says, truly meaning that and not worrying about it for his sake. He's never mattered, not even to himself.

"I never had anything here to keep except a place where I don't have to explain myself, and everyone accepts I'm a bit odd and a little off. When Spring comes and I'm sure you're safe, I'll go somewhere. I'm capable of living by myself and if that's what happens, so be it. It's little different than what I have now without Wyatt and Doc expecting so much of me."

He's known how they treat him as well, but he just needed enough to feel needed. They'd given him that, if only barely, and so he'd made it enough.