Personal Log
Dr. Carson Beckett, MD
115 days after my re-awakening

It was a very quiet Thursday evening, made so mostly by the relative lack of conversation with Edward when we sat down for tea together. He was oddly subdued, almost as though he was concerned about something, but I'd never really known him to worry before about anything in his whole life. It left me nervous and on edge.

I was about to ask him if something was wrong when he decided to speak up. Perhaps he sensed my confusion. 'I spoke to Mum yesterday. She told me you were planning to stay.'

'Aye,' I confirmed uneasily. 'Is that why you seem so bothered tonight?'

'No, I'm not bothered by that,' he assured me quickly. 'Although perhaps I am a wee bit surprised.'

My confusion only intensified. 'Mum seemed surprised too, but why? She seemed eager at the possibility of having me at home more often.'

'No reason, really.' Edward paused to take a sip of his tea before elaborating. 'It's just that when you left a few years ago, you seemed so excited and optimistic about the potential for your research.'

I shook my head, not quite sure how to answer. 'Like Mum said, I've come back a changed man.'

'Aye, so you've told me.' He put down his cup and looked me straight in the eyes, and I shifted uncomfortably under his gaze. 'But is all that excitement and optimism for the work you used to do really gone? Did this "Michael" person truly drive it from you completely?'

His question left me feeling bereft with confusion because he was right. Where had it gone? I'd once felt a lot of joy for my work, but that feeling was now missing. It was what gave me meaning in my life, and I felt the pain of my loss of confidence and of my sense of purpose more strongly than ever. 'He made me do terrible things, Edward. Thousands of people died because of the work he forced me to do while I was his prisoner, and I can never take that back. It has nothing to do with excitement or optimism.'

'You eventually escaped though, didn't you?'

'No.' Frustration was starting to creep into my voice. 'Nearly two years passed before I was finally rescued. I'd almost managed to escape once, but I was recaptured by people who willingly served him and didn't care what he did. I was starved, tortured, and for two years he took pleasure in tormenting me with the fact that there was no escape and no one was coming to rescue me. I don't ever want to go back to that that kind of life.'

'But that's not the life you chose, Carson. It never was. I'm sure you would've much preferred to go back to your research station and continue working for the betterment of mankind, but sometimes bad things happen to good people and there's only so much that you can do about it. You need to find a way to forgive yourself and let this go, find a catharsis of penance of a sort, or you'll never be able to come to terms with yourself and what you had to do to stay alive.' He rose from his seat and reached out for the kettle to make more tea. 'Where you go from here is your own decision of course. I just don't want to see you do the wrong thing.'

I nodded shallowly and tried to distract myself by helping him with the dishes. Maybe what I really need is some time to myself to think everything over.