What was it that Knox had done?

I, yes I, would say that he is thinking now that when his brother's child died, he felt a tug at his heart that was his only preparation for this. But what he did then, it's difficult to say. I'm trying to remember. Trying...

His eyes had been wet with Aylin's affections. His body had been heavy. He had been filled with love. Now, there is nothing but fear turning into it. Fear of being alone, love leaving the body like pain.

He shows weakness. He bears it openly, letting it soak through his chest like blood. He is no longer a hunter, he is a bleeding heart. I watch the way he crumbles and cries. His face does not move, his gaze is fixed still on my death with a broken horror. How long will his jaws be parted with sobs, his eyes fluttering to clear away sorrow? His body falls to the side, thudding against the comfort of Archibald's heavy legs.

Nothing, he thinks, will ever tear my older brother down. But by god, by god, she was stronger than us all.

"You were stronger than us all," he whispers, softly. I loved you, I loved you, I love you still and I always will.

Being above everything, now, I understand his grief. I feel it, too. The absence of the bond and the tug and the connection but the overflow of the love. This love that cannot be contained, this understanding that without each other, neither of us can be whole...

He has let his whole body collapse on top of the remains. He covers them and looks into his son's gold eyes. I didn't love you, I didn't love you, I didn't love you and now I will.

"Milo?"

He asks, speaking his son's name for the first time. Is it really the first time? Has he really gone so long without saying his own son's name?

Knox beckons the little one, his child. Watches as Milo stumbles forward. "Archibald," he says, his voice firm and certain. His brother's name is no longer a question, Archibald is a steady beacon, a presence. Archibald cannot be felled. Knox will respect this, he must respect this, he must learn.

"My brother," he murmurs, "my son," he echoes. But he isn't sure of who they are to him, Mandrake's old confusing roles are returning to muddle his thoughts--aren't they both his brothers?

Wasn't she his brother?

No, he is reminded by some deep memory of hers. No, I try to remind him. She was more.

His eyes are wet and at last he can lift his head. He has to move on, he has to keep going. This is what she asked of him. Her dying wish was for him to love them.

"Help me take her home."

...but I will wait for him.

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