Hi guys! Wow, it has been so long since I updated this story. I hadn't originally planned on it, but the more I thought about it, I don't think I did this story justice, leaving it open like that. So here is the last chapters to bring Danse/Delta adventure to its official and clear end. I hope. I don't know, I love these two, lol.

It's been a while since I have written anything, so if it feels choppy, I apologize. I did my best to read over the story and keep it all cohesive as I possibly could. As usual, I spellcheck all my chapters, but sometimes typos get passed over by both me and spellcheck. I apologize for that! Also, I had to look a few things up, it has been years since I played FO4 (currently obsessed with 76, eeeeep) so if something is off or doesn't make sense, please forgive me, I swear I try to stick to the game as much as I can for the backdrop of my stories.

Without further ado!

THE ISLAND

Have you ever wound up on a path, that you never imagined yourself set upon? That, despite knowing exactly how you got there and all the decisions that led to that very moment - every intimate, difficult choice - you could not begin to fathom how you ended up there. Hindsight and all that, right?

There were times I wished I could go back in time and slam my front door in that Vault-Tech representative's face. No arguing, no questions, I would just slam the door right in his incessant little face. I wouldn't have lived past the bombs. I could have died knowing my life meant something. That I had been happy, loved and at peace. But, things don't always go the way you had planned, do they? I think I would be a wonderful candidate to reinforce this notion. I could think of a hundred things I would have done differently, given the chance. If only I had known, the path it would have led to.

Damn, maybe someone should write some kind of Welcome to the Unfair Shitshow That is Life manual or something.

I smacked the heel of my hand against the plastic of my Pip-Boy. The small map fizzed and blurred for a moment, until it finally clicked back into view. "Stupid piece of shit," I whispered angrily, as if it could help being two-hundred plus years old. I turned the knob along its face to zoom in, wrinkling my nose at the smell of swamp water and sulfur springs.

I was north-east of the Commonwealth, just outside of a place everyone referred to as the Island. I had to hand it to post-apocalyptic wastelanders, they had... less than impressive imaginations. Why not call it Death Island or Foggy Craphole or maybe the Smelly Isle. It was much the same as Boston, desolated, irradiated and depressing. The only difference was the moving clouds of radioactive fog, seemingly ever-present. I didn't know much about it, other than the small bits of information I picked up from the Nakanos and Nick.

As I steered the old boat along the murky, greening waters, I couldn't help but think it might be best if I never left the Island. I wasn't too fond of the fog or rumors of lumbering shrimp-like beasts, but why not? I could become a fisherman, set up a market, smell like seawater and rotting fish, drink myself into utter oblivion and sing inappropriate songs about busty women and life at sea. It didn't sound half bad, to be honest. When compared to the disaster that was my life up to that point, I mean really, how much worse could it get?

I thought back to the last words I had exchanged with Danse. They were always there, pulling beneath the surface, like a thin, taunt string. It felt so brittle, like it was moments from snapping. Soon I would forget, like I had forgotten the way he smelled, or how brown his eyes were. I'd already started to forget the chords of his gruff voice. It was dissipating, like smoke in the wind.

"I will always love you." I didn't know how true those words were. Could he love? Ten out of ten doctor's disagreed. I had come to terms with believing it was some mechanical, programmed version of what he thought love was. Whatever little seed the Institute had planted in that brain of his. Just an imitation of the genuine thing. Like watered down wine.

I stopped myself from dwelling on things I could not change. But it felt nice to torment myself, I suppose. We like to feel pain. Especially pain that comes with love. Like having a bad tooth pulled. It was the only pain we liked to feel. I wouldn't stop myself from acknowledging it, but I couldn't let it consume me anymore. Not in this world.

And yet... my resolve was never quite as strong as I liked to pretend. I could feel that flicker of emotion, tendrils of anger, pain, eddying just in the core of me. My mind ran over the letter he had left, as I slept soundly, happily, in that gurney beside him. I had grown accustomed to waking to find him gone. He always had woke before even the morning songbirds. But I knew, inside, he was gone. The letter was written with a soldier's scrawl, short, to the point, but honest. I could tell he had taken more than moment to consider what he wrote, which I could not appreciate in that instance, but I did now.

Fox,

I know you can't ever understand why I'm doing this. Perhaps, that is what makes you human and me a machine. I can't ever thank you enough, for all the sacrifices you made for me. But, this is where our paths will diverge. You are meant for far greater things than what I could ever offer. If having to leave in this way is what it takes, it is what I will do. I know you will forget me, because people like you do not have time to dwell on insignificant things like orphans from Rivet City. But I will never forget you and the things you taught me. I am sure I will hear all about your many accomplishments in the time yet to come. Please, do not look for me - you will not find me.

Be careful out there, Fox.

Ad Victorium,
Danse

I folded the faded, little paper back up and shoved it into the pocket of my button-down shirt. My fingers lingered over the breast pocket for a moment, the only thing left of him was that little piece of paper. If I had been a smarter person, I would have tossed it over the boat. But I was not. I was a stupid, little fool that had to relearn the same lesson a hundred time before it stuck.

In my head, I had written a reply to his letter. It was even shorter and to the point. "Hey, fuck you pal." Of course, now that six months had passed, the letter had gotten longer, the sour words had gotten more sentimental. I had forgiven him for all the lousy things he had done and I understood why he left. But it didn't mean I had to like it.

After that, I gathered up all the strength I could muster and tried to move on. I wont lie to you and tell you I didn't try to find out where he went. Shaun made sure to compound any doubts I had, however. He was so much like his father, it was frightening.

"He's a synthetic human being, mother. He is not capable of what you think he is. Most of his memories are planted for Christ's Sake. He was never a child, he was never born. Everything he knows about himself, was put there by us. You are idolizing something that was built in a lab." I could see his mouth was turned into a thin line, like Nate's used to when he lectured me in very much the same manner.

"I would prefer if you did not talk to me like I was a child, Shaun." My voice sounded exhausted, emotionally, physically. It sounded hollow.

"I apologize," he said, earnestly. "If I seem angry, it is only because I do not want to see you chasing something that will never be what you need it to be. Your talents are better suited for something that actually has meaning and importance. We could really use you here." He slowly waved his hand around him at the underground compound he had known his whole life. I scowled and crossed my arms.

"I hate to seem indifferent to your little operation here, Partner," something I used to call him when he still needed a diaper changed, "But a few weeks ago, you didn't seem to care if I was wasting away into a ghoul."

"I think that is a bit unfair," he started, his brow furrowed, his face whispering with offense. I put my hand up.

"If it makes you feel any better, I am not going to run him down. You see Shaun, while you and your little scientists are down here safe and sound, eating Bonbons and sipping tea, the rest of the world up there is suffering and dying away. I think my, "talents" as you put it, are best used to help those who are less fortunate than you. A courtesy, I wish you could have, at the very least, afforded the woman who gave birth to you," I rambled. I shouldn't have said it, but it felt good. It felt good, because I was angry and the person I was angry with was not there to verbally abuse. Shaun just frowned at me and went back to his terminal, ending the conversation. Which was probably for the best. My grandmother had always said, I was unforgivably mean when I was angry - straight to the jugular.

After that, I made my way slowly to Diamond City. I didn't have an exact plan in mind, but it was somewhere I was very familiar with. In the days after I had left the vault, it was where I did most of my trading and shopping. I'd made a few important friends there as well.

I made it to the shabby City, slowly but with a sure pace. Though I had a few various ends that needed tying up. The Minutemen always needed my help, which I usually, I am ashamed to admit, avoided. There was always new settlements that were cropping up, needed help, protection, water, trade routes and the like. At the end of a little under five months, I was finally at Diamond City. It was as busy as always, gritty too. You could find good people, as well as undesirables there. The City was just a bowl of variables. You had to stay on your toes, and never trust anyone. I had learned that lesson not so long ago, in that very place.

During my stay, Nick Valentine approached me. I had helped him in the past and made a good friend in him. He could be a little overly-optimistic, but good company in all. We caught up in his office, I regaled him with stories of honor, glory, explosions and camaraderie. Nick chuckled and shook his head at my stories, I don't think he was surprised to hear most of it. He mentioned a soldier type had passed through a month or two ago, looking for work. I dismissed it at first, just nodding my head. I didn't have much in common, outside of profession, with soldiers types - but I could understand why he might think I cared.

"He gave me an alias, I know that much. The fellow wasn't very good at lying. I told him he could find some work with a few people who had need for a hired gun around. A man like that could do very well as a bodyguard or security. He was built like a solid, brick wall." My eyes flickered up from the paper I was reading. Nick kept talking, mentioning something about raiders and ill-gotten gains.

"Brotherhood of Steel?" I asked, nonchalantly, thumbing the edge of the page.

"He was wearing dog-tags under his shirt," he said coolly. He moved some papers around and picked up a small notecard with some messy handwriting on it. "He asked me to get in contact with him if I found anyone hiring," he said, holding out the card. I looked at that card, long and hard. I could feel my fingers, clenching and unclenching, nearly trembling.

"I..." I couldn't find my voice. There was no guarantee it was Danse. There were hundreds of Brotherhood types gone rogue. Types you didn't want to meet, because more often than naught, it was at the end of a gun barrel. "I'm good. I think I'll run this one solo, if you don't mind, of course," I finally answered, quietly, almost a whisper. He shrugged and tossed the card back down. I handed him the paper I was holding and sighed heavily. I leaned back against a filing cabinet, crossing my ankles. "So, what do you think happened to this girl, Kasumi?" I mused.

Nick tapped his metal and coated fingers on his desk. "Hard to say. She seemed to be pretty unhappy in that house. I don't think foul play is involved," he said, more to himself than me. I could see those old world detective cogs moving like a fine-tuned machine. "She definitely ran away of her own volition. But why? Well, I guess you're going to find out when you get there." I just nodded slowly, partially ignoring him, my mind elsewhere, somewhere it shouldn't have been.

I had arrived at the Nakano residence just before nightfall. It was raining quite heavily and I was happy to have a roof over my head. I couldn't help but think it was so film noir of me, to be standing outside of their doorstep, rain falling overhead, as I huddled underneath a coat. All I needed was a fedora and some cheesy music. It must've been how Nick felt all the time. Like the famous Silver Shroud, spreading equity like a shadow sleuth, leaving his calling card on the corpses of all the detriments to society and gunning down injustice with his silver machine gun. Badass.

The missing girl's parents seemed extraordinarily... boring. Not like my own, who were pretty unusual as far as parents go. No, Kasumi had a normal childhood, with normal parents. Well, as normal as it gets in post-apocalyptic Boston anyway. My time there was brief, having quickly sussed out the situation. The poor girl was under the impression she was a syth replacement and had taken off to the Island to be near people of her kind. Synths, that is. I was really beginning to resent synths - or maybe I was taking out my displeasure with one certain synth, on all of them. The Nakanos lent me their boat, under the idea that I would bring their girl back safe. I was less than optimistic. I'd heard about Far Harbor and what inhabited it. The prospects seemed rather dim. A girl like her, surviving a trip there, unharmed.

All of that, propelled me to that exact moment. That exact path. Standing in the boat, partially wet, exhausted and entertaining memories I had worked hard to forget. Nothing pushing me forward but sheer will and survival. Trying to find some solace in helping others, when I was unable to even help myself.

As I eased into the harbor, I could see the soft glow of lantern light on shore. I shivered under my coat, taking in the sight of the island. I could feel a dark tendril of apprehension slither through the core of me. Why anyone would live here, was beyond me. Though the rain had not helped the situation, leaving the inky night even blacker than before - it was impossibly dark here. Dark with thick swaths of fog rolling over murky, hills. The houses, much like the Commonwealth were more shacks than buildings. Even they seemed to hide some nefarious secret. I pulled the collar of my coat closer to my neck, my eyes trying to pull away from those malignant hillsides.

I pulled to a stop at a dock, a group of people stood atop it, holding lanterns and weaponry. I swallowed hard as I turned the boat off. I took a moment to gather my thoughts, before sidestepping onto the slick wood of the dock. I slowly approached a shabbily dressed, short haired woman. I extended my hand and she grasped it firmly.

"Are you lost? This is Far Harbor... we don't get many visitors here," she said, her voice soft and hard all at once. I recognized the voice. She was in charge. A man behind her, brandishing a weapon spoke snidely.

"We don't need no more freeloaders, or help from mainlanders. So you can get back in your boat and leave," he spat. I resisted the urge to roll my eyes and sighed inwardly.

"Allen, this isn't your dock, it belongs to the whole town. Strangers are welcome," she hissed over her shoulder at him. Yes, she was definitely in charge. I always liked to see women in positions of authority. I was more than familiar with being treated with kid gloves because of what was between my legs. A small, ghost of smile crept at the corners of my mouth."I'm sorry about my friend. You've caught us during a... a difficult time," she said quietly, glancing sideways at me. "But, Allen's got a point. Not all visitors have good intentions. So, what's your business here?"

I shifted under the wet coat, my hand slowly hovering over the sawed off, strapped to my side, tucked away nice and safe. "A young woman is missing from the Commonwealth. Kasumi. She might have passed through here. Her family asked me to find her," I replied, my breaths coming out in clouds of white against the bite of the cold air. My eyes watched that snide prick at the back, specifically his trigger finger. Nothing stood out to me, nor did I get any feelings of bad intentions from these people, but I just couldn't trust strangers anymore.

"Some sort of detective huh? Well, she came through here alright," she replied. My eyes darted to her, intrigued. So she made it the island itself, which was good news. I could only hope she survived actually residing there. I didn't want to have to bring bad news back to her parents. It was hard to feel genuine empathy those days, but I certainly didn't want to be the bearer of such awful news. Plus, people crying was just, uncomfortable to me.

Suddenly, the trill of a bell broke through the fog. "Something is coming through the fog!" I could hear someone shout. I immediately unholstered my shotgun. Avery turned to me, eyes bright with alarm.

"Help defend the town and I'll answer any questions you have," she shouted, as she began running up a set of stairs. I gave her a quick nod and followed her hastily. She assigned me a post, along the main gate. I slid into position, sliding over the slick wooden planks. Large posts, housing pulsating lights stood in a circle around the town, like sentinels. As the fog rolled in, it dissipated into these lamps. I could only assume it was their way of eliminating the danger of the fog. So the rumors were more than rumors. Of course, because what was the post-apocalyptic world without killer fog?

As I and a dozen other people stood on the ramparts, facing the thick, noxious fog, we all exchanged hushed glances. A snarling, low and sinister, rolled through the group of us. I could detect movement, shadows and shapes swirling in that misty night air. I'd seen many creatures in my time post-bombs. But the most terrifying thing I had seen, was human depravity.

The fog broke slightly, revealing round, wet faces. Something I would compare to a salamander in my former life. Only they stood upright and were a good deal larger. They croaked like frogs, revealing large tongues and toothless mouths. As if they were planning a well-orchestrated attack, they instantaneously shot forward at once. I aimed my shotgun at the closest and pulled the trigger. I fired both rounds, hitting the soft, sponge-like flesh of the creature's face. It exploded outwardly and its body hit the pavement like a bag of cement. I inserted two more shells into my gun and whipped it up, close the barrel with a loud snap. I moved onto my next target. Much like the first, I downed it without a problem. I did this twice more, moving quickly, confidently, my mind completely at the task at hand. As I took aim on one of the few remaining creatures, a man slipped on the planks and toppled forward. He had just managed to catch himself, hanging on by one hand. His weapon clattered to the pavement. He shouted as one of the creatures jumped forward to claim its prey. I ran towards him, sliding on my boots. I brought the gun's sights to my eye, took aim and fired at the creature. It screeched in pain and retreated back into the fog. I reached down, grabbing the man by the pack on his back. Another hand looped itself into the cloth handle of his pack and lifted him. I groaned as I helped hoist the man back to the rampart.

"Thanks," came a voice, which sounded far away and muffled, like someone was trying to speak through a wall.

As I slid my trusty shotgun back into its holster, it felt like time had slowed to an impossible stillness. My eyes trailed from the shotgun shells, clattering in slow motion to the glossy, wooden floor, to the hands of the person who had helped me save the falling man. Before I could respond to him, my throat seemed to tighten in a noose. My eyes met theirs and I felt an unthinkable weight crush me into the center of the earth, like a falling space rock. I was falling, thousands of feet, into a pit of black nothingness. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't save myself. I tried to speak, but all that came was hot, tight breaths.

Danse stood less than a foot from me. His deep brown pools just stared at me. Though people were moving to and fro around us, they seemed like nothing but blurs. I didn't even notice the fog anymore, feel that odd darkness ebbing at the edge of the hills beyond. Every tendon in my body screamed underneath tepid skin. If there wasn't steam rolling off of me, I would have been surprised. I had thought about this exact moment for over six months. I went to sleep, thinking about this moment. It plagued my dreams, it seeped into my mind like poison. I had imagined it, so vividly, so perfectly, that when it was there in front of me, I couldn't even responded. Every part of me was shutting down, like a nuclear tower. Defcon 1 people. I could feel a bubble of anger, quickly rolling into a massive, hot wave of indescribable rage. I could feel my hand balling up into a fist. My eyes tried to find something there in his. Surprise, happiness, anger, anything. But there was nothing but stillness. Like a serene lake after a thunderstorm.

"Hello, Fox," he sighed, his voice like a belt of lightening and thunder. I think I saw his mouth move before I heard the words hang in the air. As I retook control of my body, I pivoted on my heel and quickly jaunted back down the stairs. Avery was trying to say something to me, but I brushed past her. I hadn't meant to be so rude, but I had to escape. I had to do something. I had to do something with my hands before I killed Danse. Pushed him off the rampart, laced my hands around his throat, punched him until all I could feel was absolutely nothing.

I approached a scraggly looking old man, "Alcohol," was all I could get out of my hoarse throat. He pointed me in the direction of a bar, without saying a word. I slipped through the doors of dilapidated building, not noticing the people gathered around me. I slammed my hands on the bar, harder than I had intended. My fists were tightly clenched, white rocks. "Drink," I barked. The man attending the bar snatched up a bottle of something, almost frantically. He pushed it in front of me and set down a scratched, cracked cup. I just looked at him, my eyes wide saucers of lunacy. The man jumped forward and poured the dark liquor into the cup, all the way to the brim. I reached forward and snatched it up, downing it with the flick of my wrist. I slammed the cup down and motioned for more. He poured generously. I picked it up, tossing it back with ease. I could feel that wave of rage, boiling over and capsizing on itself. I slammed the cup down once more and hitched an eyebrow at the brunette man. He looked at me out of the side of his eyes and glanced at the doorway of the bar. I refused to look. "Well," I hissed, flicking the rim of the glass with my pointer finger. I could hear someone clear his throat in the doorway. I growled and gripped the edge of the bar with my hands. It slowly dawned on me that half the harbor was standing around staring at me, including Avery. At any other time, I would have been absolutely mortified. But given the circumstances and the hard liquor now coursing through me like liquid rage syrup, I could not have given any less of a fuck.

I found Danse's figure again in the doorway, standing next to Avery. I snapped my attention back to the man playing bartender, "Pour the fucking drink," I said, low in my throat, like a wounded predator. He flinched, hesitated and poured me another glass. Before I could touch the cup, Danse had slid it out from in front of me. I watched the precious rage syrup slosh around as it was pushed a good two feet away from me.

"I think she has had enough, Mitch," came his voice. Gruff and smooth all at once, just like I had remembered. I rolled my neck and set my teeth together. I stepped back and snatched the bottle of alcohol by the neck, off the counter. I shouldered past Danse and made my way out of the door. I couldn't feel all the eyes on me, the exchanged whispers and shock.

As I ambled down a pier, overlooking the dull waters surrounding the harbor, I pulled the cork out of the bottle and tossed it aside. I upended the bottle and began taking large gulps. After my third, the bottle was snatched from my grasp with ease. I sputtered for a moment and unholstered my gun. I pressed the end of the barrel into Danse's chest and pulled back the hammer. "You want to meet your god right now, you keep fucking with me," I hissed. I don't know if it came out the way I had intended, because I was slowly slipping down the cusp of being drunk. I could feel it in the tips of my fingers and toes. Danse just pushed the gun away and threw the bottle into the water. I heard it kerplunk and sink into the abyss of the cold waters.

"I forgot just how bad your temper is," he sighed. I pointed an angry finger at him.

"Don't you fucking dare," I shouted. I could tell by the look in his eyes, he was getting increasingly angry. More because I was embarrassing him, I'm sure.

"You're embarrassing yourself, Delta," he breathed, glancing over his shoulder. He always used my last name when he was angry or wanted to get a point across. I glared at him, and pushed past him, making my way back to the bar. "Where are you going?" he said, coming up behind me.

"To get another bottle," I hissed. He grabbed the crook of my elbow between tight, strong fingers. I tried to pull away, whipping around swinging a my gun at him, which missed entirely. Because I was getting increasingly more inebriated. "Let go of me you two-faced, lying, piece of shit robo-" he reached forward and slung me over his shoulder.

"It's alright everyone, I'm going to escort Miss Delta to her bunk," he said, stretching a hand to lull the public into a sense if safety. Nothing going on here, just a crazy lady, go back to your fish guts and killer fog, people.

I writhed under his arm, kicking and punching with all the might of a wounded bird. "Goddamn you," I shouted, as he escorted me easily, to a building where there was no one to witness my psychotic breakdown. He set me down on the floor, unsteadily and slammed the door behind him.

"What exactly are trying to achieve by scaring the daylights out of an entire town of innocent people?" he said hotly. I snorted and laughed, almost maniacal. He wasn't even a little amused.

"Oh, I think I am the least of their worries," I said, using an outstretched hand to steady myself. "Now get out of my way. Your fat head is blocking my exit," I said, motioning to the door.

"You are insane if you think I'm letting you back out there," he said, crossing his arms and staring down at me like I was a nothing more than a petulant, little child. I growled and tried to reach down to pick up a lantern, hissing at my feet, but I couldn't figure out which once to grab, because there were three. Maybe four. The liquor was doing its job quite well.

"Uh yeah," I slurred, "What are you the goddamn police?" I said, wiping my mouth with the sleeve of my coat.

"In a way," he stated matter-of-factly. I exhaled noisily and peeled my coat off, because it was really hot all of a sudden and I needed something to throw at him. I balled it up and chucked it at his face. He sighed and tossed it aside.

"Do they allow synths on the police force?" I said with a snort. He scowled at me and took a step forward.

"Lower your voice," he hissed.

"Oh, oh, they don't know do they? Didn't think so. Y'know most people don't like you guys," I informed him and sighed away a hiccup. "I don't like you either," I added, talking to myself. "In fact," I said a bit louder and took an unsteady step forward, "I think all you syths are the same-" I practically shouted. He reached forward and put a hand over my mouth, using his free hand to yank my shoulder.

"I am not above gagging you and throwing you in a cell," he said quietly, firmly. I was actually almost scared. He slowly moved his hand away and quirked a brow, warning me.

"Sure you don't want to take advantage of me first? You're pretty good at doing that," I whispered. He rolled his eyes.

"You are being dramatic," he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose with his finger and thumb.

"I have every goddamn right to be," I replied, turning away from him. I squatted down, wavering slightly and pulled a green footlocker from underneath the old, rusted bed.

"What are you doing?" he asked, exasperated.

"Looking for this," I sighed happily, pulling out an old, dusty bottle of something. It could have been whisky, water, digested goo, I didn't know, I was drunk and the logical thought process had taken a long walk off a short dock. I just knew people like the Harbormen kept plenty of liquor stashed away. He reached forward and tried to snatch it from me, but I recoiled away. He grabbed me under my arms and hoisted me up. I fought back, gripping the bottle tightly. He pulled me under the crook of one and arm and yanked the bottle out of my hand. I frowned and reached after it.

"Will you just stop?" he shouted. I shoved him off of me and staggered backwards.

"Will you?" I said, in the least intimidating voice ever conceived. I was close to blacking out, I could feel it. Blackness was ebbing at the edges of my eyes. It would be a lie for me to say that wasn't the plan all along. I just needed it to happen faster and he wasn't letting me. "God Danse, you wanted me out of your life, so let me be," I hissed. "If I want to drink that digested goo, or piss, or whatever is in that bottle, it is my god-given right to do so," I said, throwing my hands up.

"You don't get to act like an raving lunatic while you're in this town. Not while I'm here," he said, tucking the bottle under his arm. "You want to drink yourself to death? By all means, go ahead. But you wander out into that fog or get back in that damn boat before you do. I'm not going to clean up another mess for you."

"Go fuck yourself," I said, collapsing onto the bed. I groaned into the straw pillow and happily let that bubbling, blackness take me away. To a place where I didn't have to think or dream.

All these past few months, I thought I had worked past this. That I had forgiven him, that I understood why he had done the things he had. But I hadn't. I had just shoved it all down where I didn't have to deal with it. But there it was, plain as day. I hated him. I hated him for leaving me alone again. For taking away the one thing that made me happy. I suppose, in a way, I hated him for not being what I needed him to be. It was selfish, but frankly, I didn't give a damn.