Aidan wished that it was his Evey here now. He wanted to crawl across the kitchen floor and rest his head in her lap. He wanted to hold her and cling to her while he fought off the effects of the live blood he'd consumed. The effects of Leeloo. The death of that woman was beginning to creep in around the corners of his mind, and he knew that he would be fully hit with it when he was completely sober. He was not going to like himself very much at all. He needed somebody there who did, and who would see past the horror he had committed and guide him back to the man he wanted to be.
But if it had been his Evey, would she have been strong enough to withstand his threats? His pleading? Would she have tried to stand up to him, but been filled with fear that he would have been able to use against her? He had tasted this Evey's fear, and yet it had not been a weakness. She had accepted her fate and pushed forward anyway. Exactly what he'd needed her to do.
He could not put his feelings upon the one who sat with him now. It wasn't fair. He wasn't her burden. As she had stated, she was not his.
Aidan shook his head, not looking at her. She had done so very much for him - for that other Evey, too, actually - and she hadn't needed to. She'd come here to tell him that she'd moved on, and wanted him to be encouraged to do the same. He didn't want her to feel like she had to give up what she had.
"No, Evey. This isn't your fight." His shoulders moved in what might have been a laugh. "It really would have been better for all of us if you-she'd let me die in the ruins."
Aidan held up a hand, waving away something unseen. He'd hurt many people since then. Evey. Dean. Himself. Evey again. He didn't want to feel sorry for himself, and that's not what this felt like, really. It just felt like truth. But he didn't want to get into a discussion about it.