There is a timeline, he thinks, where they could be a family. Where they could build and flourish. This is not something he had known he wanted – certainly not so tangibly – until she had come along, until she had found him worthy to parade their child in front of, to allow him to be part of her life. To have a say in her upbringing. It is a different sort of trust, and one that touches him in some aching part of his heart, one that he had not known existed.
Garbage had never been good at families.
There is a timeline, a path, but is he capable of walking it?
He thinks of his failures, his betrayals, his sins. Sure, she knows perhaps the worst thing he ever did, but there is still more.
(He thinks, pained, of the boy. So young, so cold, so eager to be kept warm.)
He wants it. He wants her. Wants all of this.
But he has wanted many things in his life, and gotten so few of them.
It’s then that she speaks. A killing blow, in a way.
I have faith in you.
It has all the sting of forgiveness, and oh, how he craves it! The word faith crawls over his veins and infects him, delights him, because he has never been the sort of man others have faith in.
He could be, though – couldn’t he?
He touches her again. With faith, with -
“Agetta…” he says, “I love you.”
@[Agetta]