And there is was. The thing he had no right to ask of her. The thing his soul silently craved, sought…feared. The thing that tortured him if he dared hope for it; that laughed at him, as he tried to grasp hold of it. He knew he could never earn it, didn’t stop him from trying. Because anything would be better than not trying. He didn’t deserve it; never would. Yet here it was... in her eyes, her face, her hand, in three words that meant he’d received it. He could rest now. He had it. At last…forgiveness.