People who don't empathize with Higgs' perspective on the "fair exchange" of killing to sustain his powers have probably never been in life-or-death situations of having to make impossible choices to survive. It's not pretty, it's not right, but human nature can be extremely cruel upon being forced into constant survival mode, especially over a period of years.
Self-justification is really the only means of coping in such circumstances. Higgs soothed himself and tried to minimize the horror by honoring the people he killed. ("corpses are precious, powerful things. They're so much more than bombs. Terrorists ought to treat them with proper respect.")
The true tragedy is that Higgs really didn't think he had other choices available. It's not excusable, but in my opinion it is forgivable.
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"Stevie," Eddie says, wincing at the stale air in the room. It's almost pitch black, except for the lamp in the corner that colours everything dark blue, and the glow stars on the ceiling that they'd put up together, making pretend constellations in pretend galaxies.
"Go 'way," Steve mutters, head buried beneath two pillows and hands clasped tight around them, as though that will be the thing that fixes him, that keeps the bad away. Eddie sighs, not at Steve, but at the awfulness of it all. He fiddles with the blister pack in his fingers, and allows the condensation from the water bottle in his other hand to soak his palm.
"Please, baby," Eddie says. "You need to take your meds. The doctor said - "
"Fuck the doctor," Steve curses angrily, muffled.
"Maybe later, once you've taken your meds," Eddie says calmly, or aiming for calm. He hates seeing Steve hurting, and Steve hurts a lot. More than he'd like. More than he knows he realises.
Steve emerges from his pillow prison slowly, blinking like it hurts him to do so, and Eddie knows it does, so he just holds out the water bottle, cap off, and Steve drinks greedily, throat working hard, whilst Eddie pops out two pills. Steve makes a pitiful noise as Eddie hands them over, but reluctantly takes them, screwing up his eyes against the taste before swallowing down more water.
"You did so good," Eddie says. Steve shakes his head then moans. "It's okay," Eddie says. "Back under the pillows now. The pills will work soon."
"I hate this," Steve says. "I hate that you have to see this."
"I know you do. I hate seeing it. But only because it's my favourite person in the whole world suffering. Not for any other reason. Please don't think it's for any other reason," Eddie says softly. Steve makes a small noise, already piling the pillows back over his face. Eddie reaches out and strokes the back of his hand.
Steve's hands clench, then unclench, before relaxing.
"I'll be around, if you need me," Eddie says, before standing. He pauses at the door. He looks at Steve's prone form, the invisible war in his head. "It's not rotten work, you know? Never, actually."
He pulls the door to, but doesn't close it entirely, just to make sure he can hear Steve if he needs to. He never, ever wants Steve to think he's a burden. Not when he loves that boy more than breathing. Not if it's you, not if it's me.
not if it’s us
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