Matt looked up, his words stopping as suddenly as they had poured out. He had been brought back to the present by the touch of Anna’s hand on his own, and as he focused, he could see her face looking at him with a shocked sympathy.
“The things I did…” he whispered, looking lost and despairing. “The things I did and enjoyed them … the people I killed …” His voice was no longer as powerful as it had been previously, because telling Anna his story had brought back memories of a pain, an evil, so great that it had overcome him.
“It’s okay, Matt, it’s okay,” said Anna, and tenderly she hugged him, pressing herself against his body, and she could feel his feathered wings laying against his back, under his shirt.
“You’re not horrified?” he asked, lifting her chin so that she looked him in the eyes. “You’re not … repulsed?”
“No, Matt. What you’ve done since is who you are, not what you did then. You’ve changed, I know you have.” She brought her face up to his and kissed him, shocked at her own daring, because never had she initiated a kiss before.
“Thank you, Anna,” Matt said, and he kissed her back. His eyes – now golden, but with shadows of the black behind them, Anna was sure – were melting, the liquid falling into her own …
Anna realised that he was crying before he did, and she wiped away the tears. “Don’t cry,” she told him, and she felt like she was a thousand years old. “I still love you, you know.” Matt nodded and smiled.
“I know you do,” he said.
Then he was suddenly business-like again, looking up worriedly.
“What was that you said about cameras?” he asked, starting to panic in case his enemies had caught him in his moment of weakness.