"Do you mean seeing the way or knowing what direction to go?" Nick asked. "For the former, there are street lamps and torches, and for the latter, there are maps." It was funny. As much as he loved his work as a professor, he had never much liked actually teaching. Speaking to students who rarely paid attention wasn't something he'd ever enjoyed. But with Meg, he liked explaining things to her. For one thing, she seemed to care about what he said, and for another, he just had a desire to help her. He couldn't explain it, but something about her made him want to ease her transition into modern times.
"Well, you're doing a brilliant job of settling in," he said again, "but if you do need any help with anything, please don't hesitate to ask." And he meant it. Meg had been kind to him in his time here, and he had a soft spot for the girl, though he couldn't quite say why. He supposed he didn't need to over-analyse it. It was what it was, and he wouldn't complain over having a friend here, however strange the circumstances of their acquaintance.
He closed his eyes at her shocked gasp, and tried his best not to react to her words. He didn't want sympathy. He had never been comfortable with the idea of anyone feeling sorry for him. "People are destructive, Meg," he said softly, "and they'll always find new ways to cause destruction. That is, unfortunately, a large part of our nature." He looked at her wound, considering it from the standpoint of someone who had always been fascinated by the past. A wound like that would have been awful indeed. "It looks as though destructive weapons aren't just an aspect of modern times."
There were things he wanted to say but hadn't, that he wasn't sure how to say or who to say them to. He would have told Stephen, getting back to that place where he trusted the younger man with everything, but he couldn't burden him with his own troubles. He also didn't feel comfortable telling Jenny about it. But somehow talking to Meg seemed easy. Maybe it was because she had been killed too, or perhaps because she was removed from the situation. "It still hurts sometimes," he admitted, looking up at the sky. "Not often, but sometimes. It's the other parts that make it hard. Guns make me uncomfortable, I used to use them for my work, but now...and loud noises. Guns make a rather loud noise when fired."
He sighed in frustration. "I rarely sleep any more because every time I do...I either remember my wife killing me or Stephen dying...and that's always worse. I just...don't quite know what to do about any of it. I'm a mess and I'm not even sure how to go about fixing it." He looked over at her. "I shouldn't be laying this all on you. It really isn't fair of me."