He's a sniper and he knows how to visualize and follow through. Absolute conviction and certainty are the hallmarks of his trade—he can still remember that first drill sergeant yelling on and on about seeing the bullet penetrate your target and imagining the flawless clean up. Absolute conviction is required for success in any endeavor, he'd constantly say.
So when on the stand he finally understands, his mind immediately jumps into overdrive and suddenly he can see her viciously stabbing Kirby and then can imagine her gutting and torching the crucified body—
Never has he hated his past more.
\/\/\/\/\/\/
He can barely concentrate on the jury as they slowly file in, barely registers the bailiff asking them if they'd reached a verdict. He's already on his feet, making his way out the door. He's got to find Bones.
The look he gives Max Matthew whomever is pure steel but inside he's completely lost at sea. The only constant thought he can manage is find Bones.
Angela was right all along because suddenly this case has torn them apart. And he has to find Bones and apologize, or let her apologize, or agree to forget this ever happened, or something.
\/\/\/\/\/\/
He's never wanted to be a squint more. A squint would probably have a million words to describe that look on her face, where he can't seem to remember more than…happy. And that doesn't even come close.
She's open and it looks as if she's forgotten all her earlier qualms. She's just…happy in her dad's arms. He has never seen this look on her face. Ever.
Wait. Ecstatic. That's one, right? His brain can't really process anything past…
…now she's looking at him. With that same open and trusting look trained on him…
He's got to go and redefine her.