He felt his breath catch in his chest. What Gerard had said made perfect sense; that simple statement Dallon had never felt applied to himself before. He looked at the floor, suddenly self-conscious. To have done something open and brave and meaningful, to have proved himself like Gerard probably had a thousand times was all Dallon had wanted. Still wanted. He didn't know how to explain himself.
"I hope you're right," he said finally, quietly, looking at Gerard in earnest. "I don't know if what I want is revenge or something more selfish. To know I can save a person's life." He probably wasn't making any sense. Deep breath. "What I meant when I said it didn't work out so well was...they died. All but one, my oldest sister. A series of stupid things, preventable, no high-profile murders. They weren't important enough for that. I couldn't save them. And I tried, every time." He rubbed at his eyes. There, done, even though there was no reason why he'd just spilled everything to Gerard like that. There was something about him, though; he spoke intensely, had an aura of empathy about him that had Dallon reeling. Dallon, who never spoke about his feelings to anyone. He stared at the rug, vibrating, raw. "I'm sorry. I'm never like this."