“Breathe. Come on… breathe, please…”
post-trauma sentence meme. ; shotofirish
he doesn’t think he can, anymore. he’s taken bullets before, the memory of each one all too vivid in his mind now as this one -these few - seep into his soul. but those have all been... those have all felt like next to nothing, adrenaline pumping through his veins from all the good he’s doing. because back then, he knewstraight what he was making all these sacrifices for: for the good ofthe world, the freedom of the innocent. but the bullets in his bodyare stained with injustice, crime, dirty with the sins of ganglords anddemons.
even then, he supposes he’d rather have it be him than connor. he doesn’t know why, but he does. beckett knows connor has moreto save, more to gain than he does. beckett has nothing to lose, anymore. he’s fading, but he keeps his gaze on connor. “s’alright, connor. you jus’... you gotta end this, alright? make it right.”
