"Of course I don't hate you." They were the last words that Erskine properly registered, before a century of grief and guilt and hopelessness overwhelmed him.

He'd always made it a point, up until Keeliai (until Darquesse) not to break down in front of other people. Not to let on how bad things could be. He had to keep control of the situation, control of himself. It had been that way ever since Mevolent--coincidentally enough, which was also the reason he'd needed to break down at all. Hopeless had always been the only exception to that rule. Hopeless had been his anchor... and then Hopeless had died, and Erskine had walled himself off completely.

Things hadn't been that clear-cut since Darquesse. Panic attacks didn't wait to make sure he was by himself before taking over. It was the reason Valdis and Raine knew about what he'd done, had known almost from the start.

He wasn't going to have a panic attack now but he was breaking down regardless. Pressing his face against Hopeless's neck didn't stop the tears. Clinging to Hopeless didn't stop him from shivering. It was quiet, as far as meltdowns went, quiet and restrained, but it was going to take a minute or two to collect himself enough to be even halfway useful again.