He'd killed. He'd flashed from base to base and ship to ship and killed mercilessly. He killed and killed and killed and the halls ran red, green, blue, orange, and purple with blood. He killed so much that the bloodthirsty golden monster that had taken up residence within him got sick of it...He hated it, but he knew he had to do it...if he hadn't, someone could have come and...
He awoke, and found himself staring at his hands. He didn't know how he could smile knowing what he did. He knew that it had been necessary, and he knew that there was quite likely a special place in Hell with his name on it because of it.
He had to smile though, he had to smile and laugh. If he didn't, people would wonder. He wouldn't be able to handle it if his friends looked at him and saw him as he truly was. He was sure it would break him to have his friends look at him like that. As long as he was the lovable oaf, they wouldn't be...
He could handle them thinking he abandoned his family to go train. He could handle his wife and son thinking that as well.
He let his friends think he'd spent all of his time on Yadrat learning a technique it had taken him only days to master, it was better for them, and it was better for the fragile hold he had on his sanity.