[ He’d struggled so much last month, with the ghouls. It was easy, using his new powers to set them ablaze. Second nature, like he’d been doing it all his life. It was too easy, too quick, to put an end to what was once a whole person, with a family, with a soul. Their burned to ash with a snap of his fingers, no burial, no prayers. The smoke still lingers in his nose, stings his eyes in his dreams.

But that’s nothing compared to this. Betrayal within the crew, from men that he’d known and lived with for years, forced to desecrate one of their own. Feed him to the wolves only to postpone the inevitable. Tim sees fog forming in his vision, and takes his glasses off, setting them aside on Hawk’s pillow. ]

I don’t think you’re a monster.

[ He’s forgiven less desperate men for more heinous deeds. ]

I think... [ Chewing his lip. It sounds absurd, and he would have never believed this if he were there, but the hindsight of history makes it a little easier: ] The rescues wouldn’t have gotten there for years, still. Even if every last one of you had... [ Been eaten by the others, sustaining the strongest as long as possible. Too grisly a thought to speak. ] Maybe, in some terrible way, it was a mercy.

[ Even if the intention was punitive, even if it was an act of defiance. It’s the result that matters. Suffering was cut short. Fewer men were carved like pigs. ]