you ever imagine that the first thing booker did was visit his sons graves. theyre maybe grown over a bit, tombstones long worn down with only the faintest impressions of words left on them tucked in the corner of an old cemetery. you ever think that the entire time there he held off from drinking, to talk to them clear minded. and talk to them he did, he sobbed on the grass telling them he missed them and that he was truly sorry for what happened. maybe if he hadnt gotten caught maybe he would've still been there for them. he tells them how he failed again, how he managed to be so lucky to find a new family is so beyond him but he messed up and theyve left him too and by the time he sees them again, one of them will be long gone. he tells them stories about their missions, the one in greece on that fisherman's boat, the time in egypt he and joe got trampled by a camel, the time they accidentally ended up with 50 rescued animals at their safehouse. he thought jean-pierre would like that one, he always loved animals. he only stopped when his voice ran hoarse and his tears would no longer come, and only then did he allow himself to leave. immortal yet he'd never felt so old in his life. and then he drank and he drank, until every drink started to taste the same and he could feel his body growing weak and tired. then he'd get up and do it again. he was alone again
