Bill's nostrils flared as he sucked wind, ready to bark his reply. But he held, and for the first time really listened.

Having his full name put to him along with his own preference was enough to cut through the hostility for a moment.

The question posed gave him a long pause, and the description of what was out there made him silent longer still. He knew the things Clarice got in to, what she'd survived. He knew the scars and some of the stories, knew her nightmares and the paranoia that had driven her all of these years.

This is where all of that came from, and quite suddenly Bill realized this was the fear he had carried with him all along come to life. He'd always known that he couldn't keep up with her, that if push came to shove came to super powers he'd be next to useless for her. For all intents and purposes he'd just died in a fight with the 'moderate', meaning he had no chance in hell against anything else.

What was he supposed to do, then?

Working his throat quietly, he turned and looked out at the endless dunes again.

"It can't be that bad. I could-- " Could what?




"Y'can't expect me t'just leave her."