"The others care because they're genuinely good people," Solomon said simply, and smiled. There was something about that smile, something even he wasn't aware was there. Something wistful, something grim, something almost curious. "I've had ample time to be able to tell the difference. And there is a difference. There really is."
Her web had stopped vibrating, but it was still resonating. It was just a different sensation. Something more receptive than panicked. It was so raw that Solomon had to look away.
"I ..." He hesitated, trying to sort through his own feelings. Those whys he hadn't dared to touch. His hands pressed close against the side of his coat to feel the bulge of the teddy-bear in his pocket. China was being honest. Really, he could do no less. "I could see him in the Cleavers. To be perfectly frank, I'd rather like to not have to go to work and see his reflections, and know that there's a soul in there. Souls are ... far more important than I ever gave them credit for being. It would have been unnerving."
Yet that wasn't accurate either. No, it was accurate--selfish, but accurate. It just wasn't complete. "I'm not a good person, China," he said softly, and the admission wasn't quite as hard as he thought it might have been. After what he'd been through, he had no reason to care so much about his pride. "But I look into the souls of the people who, for whatever reason, have accepted me in the aftermath of everything I've done, and I wish I had a soul that burned as brightly."
"D'you know how beautiful you look right now, pardner? You're all golden."
Even if it was true. Even if it was true ... it didn't feel like it, yet. Gold tarnished. It couldn't have been that easy to clean it all off, and even if it was, it could easily tarnish again. And he didn't want that. He wanted to have a soul he could be proud of. That his father could be proud of. Even though he wasn't sure if he was talking about one father, or two.
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Her web had stopped vibrating, but it was still resonating. It was just a different sensation. Something more receptive than panicked. It was so raw that Solomon had to look away.
"I ..." He hesitated, trying to sort through his own feelings. Those whys he hadn't dared to touch. His hands pressed close against the side of his coat to feel the bulge of the teddy-bear in his pocket. China was being honest. Really, he could do no less. "I could see him in the Cleavers. To be perfectly frank, I'd rather like to not have to go to work and see his reflections, and know that there's a soul in there. Souls are ... far more important than I ever gave them credit for being. It would have been unnerving."
Yet that wasn't accurate either. No, it was accurate--selfish, but accurate. It just wasn't complete. "I'm not a good person, China," he said softly, and the admission wasn't quite as hard as he thought it might have been. After what he'd been through, he had no reason to care so much about his pride. "But I look into the souls of the people who, for whatever reason, have accepted me in the aftermath of everything I've done, and I wish I had a soul that burned as brightly."
"D'you know how beautiful you look right now, pardner? You're all golden."
Even if it was true. Even if it was true ... it didn't feel like it, yet. Gold tarnished. It couldn't have been that easy to clean it all off, and even if it was, it could easily tarnish again. And he didn't want that. He wanted to have a soul he could be proud of. That his father could be proud of. Even though he wasn't sure if he was talking about one father, or two.