[ The moment Henry speaks, teenage Alec goes utterly, terribly still. A deep, shuddering breath, and he raises his gaze to look. A swath of bright red runs over one half of his face, none of the blood his own. Lightning flashes bright from the storm outside, and before Alec even speaks the answer is there in his eyes. Hatred, burning and white hot, and it turns inward and runs deep. So very deep.
There is no one, in this world or any other, that Alec Brennan hates more than himself. ]
It's all my fault. It was always my fault. I was the deal.
[ He would find this out later, as he set his mother up for her grand fall, but now that Henry's forced some lucidity into the situation, some of Alec's memories muddle. Correspondence between Thomas Brennan and Sabrina Cordell in the early months of her pregnancy.
Alec's life for Thomas' silence. That was always the deal. ]
no subject
There is no one, in this world or any other, that Alec Brennan hates more than himself. ]
It's all my fault. It was always my fault. I was the deal.
[ He would find this out later, as he set his mother up for her grand fall, but now that Henry's forced some lucidity into the situation, some of Alec's memories muddle. Correspondence between Thomas Brennan and Sabrina Cordell in the early months of her pregnancy.
Alec's life for Thomas' silence. That was always the deal. ]