Simon's words sounded like he was choosing them carefully. "You didn't deserve what they wanted to do to you."
"And you do?" Viktor's voice cracked with something that might have been anger or might have been grief. "Because you protected one vampire instead of killing him? Because you finally saw through their lies?"
"They're not lies." Simon's voice came out too sharp, too defensive. "The Organization saved me. I was covered in my mother's blood, halfway to becoming the same kind of monster that killed her. Reuben gave me a way to fight back."
"He gave you a lifetime of trauma," Viktor shot back.
Simon's hands clenched. "I'm not discussing this."
"Of course you're not. You never do. You just go on swallowing those pills." Viktor blew out a breath, and his voice gentled slightly. "I've been where you are. Believing that the pain was necessary, that it made us better. But it didn't. It just made us afraid of becoming ourselves."
"I'm not afraid," Simon argued.
"I'm afraidforyou," Viktor said. "Afraid you might still confuse torture for love."
"It wasn't torture," Simon protested. "I was out of control. I attacked his men. I needed?—"
"You were a traumatized child who'd just watched his mother die," Viktor said gently. "You needed therapy. Medical care. Time to grieve. Not to be strapped to a chair and?—"
"Stop." Simon's voice broke on the word. "Just stop."
Charlie couldn't stand it anymore. The way Simon stood there, shoulders rigid, hands clenched, clearly struggling with himself.
Without thinking, Charlie crossed the space between them and wrapped his arms around Simon.
Simon went completely still. Every muscle locked up like Charlie had attacked him instead of hugged him. His arms hung at his sides, not returning the embrace, not pushing Charlie away. Just frozen.
"You didn't need training," Charlie said against Simon's shoulder. The leather of his jacket smelled like rain and gunpowder and something uniquely Simon. "What you needed was someone to hold you. I wish I could go back in time, but I can't so I'm doing this now."
A sound escaped Simon's throat. Not quite a gasp, not quite a sob. Something raw and wounded that he immediately tried to swallow back.
Charlie held on tighter, feeling the tremor that ran through Simon's body. Like an earthquake starting deep underground, barely visible on the surface but devastating at its core.
"You can push me away if you want," Charlie said quietly. "But I'm not letting go until you do."
For a long moment, Simon just stood there, breathing too carefully, too controlled. Like he was afraid that if he breathed normally, something inside him might break loose.
Then, so slowly Charlie almost missed it, one of Simon's hands came up. Not to push him away, but to rest against Charlie's back. Just his palm, flat between Charlie's shoulder blades. The touch was so light Charlie might have imagined it if not for the warmth seeping through his shirt.
"This is stupid," Simon said, but his voice came out wrong. Too rough. Too small.
"Yeah," Charlie agreed. "But it's good to be stupid sometimes. That's whatI'mgood at."
Simon laughed then. A real, genuine laugh.
The sound made Charlie smile too.
The laugh seemed to surprise Simon as much as it did Charlie. He pulled back slightly, looking almost offended by his own reaction.
"Don't make me laugh," Simon said, but there was something softer in his eyes now. "This is serious."
"Everything's serious with you." Charlie's hands were still resting on Simon's shoulders. He could feel the tension there. "When's the last time you did something just because you wanted to?"
Simon blinked at him. "I kissed you."
Heat flooded Charlie's face. "That doesn't count."
"Why not?"
