Broken Boulder the end should be a good one

His brother's touch did nothing at all to soothe him; it further stirred the emotions, the tempest, and he whimpered like a child. Shaking his head, refuting everything--everything!--Alarian had to say. No matter how genuine it was. He deserved none of it.

"We're all chaos, Alarian," Zamael responded. "All the Keils. That's why they wanted us to come back." He lifted tear-reddened eyes to his brother's face, his own set in rigid agony. "But I'm the worst of the lot. I know better. . .I should know better. I care about you, oh god--do I care about you. More than I care about myself. But I've let you down too many times, and if you don't think so--I do."

His gaze darted round the clearing, looking for Delight. Hoping the dark man would come to alleviate some of this pressure. "I've gotta go, clear my head for a bit," he whispered. "I'm not leaving, not this time. Not forever. But I'll be gone for a while, Alarian. Long enough to. . .put the pieces back together. To try and make something of this fucking mess of a mind."

It was what he had wanted, after Carvel had died. That time, he had left without a word, slipping away before dawn. No one had known. Not even Alarian. This time had to be different. There was no choice.

What had Alarian said? He'd begged him not to go. And the memory of that whispered plea clawed at him, at the edge of every dream.

But would Alarian rather have his brother go--or should he fall apart at his paws?