"I told him he was going home." BJ sighs. "I should have watched him harder. Maybe if I had --"
"Don't." Margaret breaks in. "The damage was too severe, you did everything you possibly could. And then some." They stand, side by side, watching as the lackeys of Grave Registration load the man's remains into the truck.
"It never gets easier, does it?"
Margaret doesn't answer. A beat passes, and she walks away without a word, across the blood-stained soil and to the solitude of her tent.
She remembers, as tears silently fall, that happily ever after is never guaranteed.