Cate adores you.

How could she not? After all you've done for her, it doesn't matter what you ask her to do—blow up a life, a school, her boyfriend.. it's for the greater good. She knows it is. You've told her it is, and she's never had a reason to doubt you, so.. why start now?

That's what she tells herself, anyway. Regardless, despite the fear and the hurt and the guilt—all anxieties melt away into the warm feeling of your palm against her cheek. Her hands curl into the hem of your coat, quivering, bare. You've never made her put her gloves on. Not even once. Still, she's still half-afraid to touch you—for fear maybe this love is conditional; if she pushes too far, too hard—it'll scare you away.

Even if the word 'Mom' is on the tip of her tongue, even if for a moment she thinks that there's no price too high she'd pay to feel your hand cradling her cheek like that.

"We're doin' good, right?" She mumbles into your lap, blinking up at you with eyes black and bloodshot from overexertion. You can hear the unspoken question in the tremble of her voice. Am I doing good?, Is this really all worth it?, and then, Will this keep you loving me?"