Thunder Dome ambergris

She'd lived her life in his absence, which was what he'd wanted - yet it still stung to think on the years he'd missed out on. Sundance had pursued his own happiness over the years, eager to find home in the arms of another, and for a time he thought he'd made that. He'd never been able to give as much of himself to Rowe, however, not in the ways she needed him to. In the end he realised that it was unfair to trail her along, not when it was Teya's voice he heard whenever she spoke his name.

Yet there he stood, trying to be strong, and it dawned on him how foolish he must look. Sundance had left without a word a long time ago, too afraid to give voice to his great flaws - of course the depth of his feeling was not reciprocated! The silverwhite withdrew in a reluctant backward stride, though his pallid eyes never left her face.

He did not know what she'd been through, but it did not matter. He just wanted to love her through it. There was nothing left in her to give, she said, and Sundance wanted to tell her she was wrong. He wanted her as she was, all of her, even the broken parts.

The downpour continued and rainwater dripped from his chin. I-I'm sorry, Teya, he managed, for everything you've been through.