He went on, conjuring words on the spot, “And it’s a part of who you are. Your heart, rescuing the world. And I love you, Stephen, but you have to understand that I am my own person. I’ve fought for that. You know I have. My father. Physicians. My own body. I won’t be your burden and I won’t be your story of an enchanted princess in a child’s pantomime. I have a life, and I will choose what to do with it.”
Jason, having recovered somewhat—the gesture had helped, then; good—reached out and took his hand: dwindling, forlorn, wounded and finding solace. “Have I done that to you? Made you feel that way? Not a person?”
“Not deliberately.” Colby came closer, leaned into Jason’s strength. Felt Jason’s arms go around him. “Not with intent. I believe that. But yes, you have.”
“I am,” Jason said
