"I wish that too." Was that better? He wasn't sure. Knowing that she'd done what she'd done not because she loved someone else but because she just flipped off her mind... it was difficult for Brother to imagine, but he desperately tried to believe it so that he could convince himself that she really hadn't been trying to hurt him, hadn't wanted to hurt him, had just been wrong and stupid and regretful. But at the same time, he suspected that a lot of it was guilt because of his current condition rather than what she'd done; it was less her betrayal than when she'd been doing it.
The question nagged at him, but he didn't ask it: what if he hadn't been fighting Flemeth? What if he'd just been working late? Or fetching dinner? Would she still feel guilty? Would he even know it had happened? Would he want to know?
They finally reached the library, which had the typical loneliness of a school at night. Corridors meant to hold thousands of young people now only had two, with footsteps in the dark echoing down long halls for what seemed like forever. Brother almost collapsed when they actually reached his cot in his office. Spartan though it was, it was the closest thing he had to home right now: he wasn't sure he would ever be able to go back there again. "Thank you," he said, despite the dark thoughts in his head. He looked Morrigan in the eye for what felt like the first time. He still couldn't bring himself to hate her.