As badly as it hurts now, Crozier knows the worst of it's to come in the morning when he wakes. His body protest at its continued ill-treatment, and he'll likely be in a state and not wanting to do much of anything besides have a little tea to keep Raju from worrying.

In these moments it would be so easy to give into the despair he feels, and Lord knows he's done it before. He doesn't want to be that man anymore though, and those conscious efforts to keep pushing, keep trying, keep hoping have become more engrained in his being than simple habit. He wants to keep trying. He wants Hickey to keep his grubby little hands away from the people he loves, and he wants people to see that he's not merely dredging up the past for the sake of it.

But don't they see, don't they see how mired they are in what happened to them? Where's the grace for the dead and newly-risen? Is that not enough to keep one's thoughts occupied indefinitely?

He thanks Raju quietly and pulls the furs up just a little, settling in for the evening and forcing himself to sleep. It comes, but it's uneasy and strained. It's so hard to breathe.

Come morning the hurt will be worse.