In the Aerie:
"Tomorrow night, then."
"Tomorrow night."
Jane watched Lisbon close the door, then dropped his gaze to the floor. He almost believed her words. Almost.
What had he done? There was a chink in the armor of his beloved Joan of Arc. His one fountain of goodness from whom he had found sweet purity was now a poisoned pond with dead fish floating to the surface. Had he poisoned it? Were they real?
Or were they merely bait to get the fox tempted to approach?
He wouldn't allow himself to find out. One way or the other, she wouldn't be there.
At the beach:
I'm doing right by doing wrong.
I keep telling myself that.
The way to protect her is to deceive her.
I keep telling myself that.
Dealing with this situation now trumps the future, our future.
I keep telling myself that.
Telling her something I know she wants to hear serves a greater purpose.
I keep telling myself that.
Looking in her eyes, seeing what's in them, denying to myself that I don't feel the same way, that's something that had to be done.
I keep telling myself that.
Someday I'll make it up to her.
I keep telling myself that.