Down to Misery

She belongs to fairy tales that I could never be
The future haunts with memories that I could never have
And hope is just a stranger, wondering how it got so bad

"Love Song Requiem"—Trading Yesterday

"...can I not save you, Mr. Carton?"

Sydney remembers that moment vividly, as he stands before the guillotine. He recalls it clearly, not blurred by drink or by the years that have passed since. It's right in front of him—playing before his very eyes.

What if?

What if?

What if?

He had been an indulgent man all his life. He could have continued in that vein so easily. It could have been him marrying Lucie instead of Darnay. It could have been his child that she bore.

But he'd chosen to do the right thing for once, and he was about to die for that decision.

What if?

What if?

What if?

They were worthless now—these thoughts, these notions. Just a product of a wandering, broken mind—a mind that would soon be separate from its body.

Disconnected. But Sydney had felt disconnected for so long.

He swore he'd never speak of that moment again, for there was no need to bring her down with him.

Down to misery.

All he'd ever wanted for her was to remain beautiful. Not in image, no. But in spirit. She was always so spirited, so hopeful.

That's all she needed to remain to make this worth his end.

Because despite what she thought, she had saved him. She'd saved him from a drunken, meritless, worthless existence.

He had a purpose now.

He had a reason.

And the reason was Lucie.

"...can I not save you, Mr. Carton?"

Oh, but she had.