Enola is right. It's not the child's fault. It's his fault. National Security is to blame for thinking that they could handle it, that existing under their watchful gaze would make its existence all right.
It's not all right.
Chaos.
National Security runs different scenarios through his head, and at the end of all of them, the Chaos entity is gone. A threat is a threat no matter how small it may appear and threats have to be removed. It's pure instinct, overwhelming, irresistible, undeniable.
Instinct.
His arm starts to hurt, the pain penetrating the clarity of National Security's mind, clouding and fogging it until it calms down again, goes to rest again.
Jamie Sheppard has blue eyes and a pleasant smile which sometimes turns into a boyish grin. He's not smiling or grinning and the colour of his eyes look washed out. But they are a shade of blue. "Keep me away from her," he says quietly, and sounds tired.