As Gibson speaks, Little finds himself not entirely surprised by the words, though they do stun him. They stun him because they're coming from Gibson. Because they feel like words that have lived inside of himself for a very long time. He might never have looked at them so directly, however. Never like this. And now here Gibson is putting them into such a direct form — making them real and true.
Edward stares at him, surprised.
The truth is that he's understood what Gibson says. Maybe even before this place — because that was what drove him, back when things were crumbling, harder and harder. Despite the heaviness weighing on him for so long, wallowing would do nothing; Little functioned for the sake of the others. He pushed forward, unable to for his own sake but rather for them. Even if ultimately it did nothing, saved no one.
And here... It's been the only thing that has kept him going, if he were to be very honest. He's come close to giving in, more than once, but always he kept going. Trying to help the people here in the ways that he can, trying to do better this time, trying to keep living. It's just... it's not enough. Is it? Now a young man is dead because of him, and who has he really saved? Who has he really helped?
(There are people, his mind whispers, reminds him, echoing against Gibson's words. Kate Marsh, standing on the edge overlooking the Basin. Wynonna Earp, running into a blinding blizzard on her own. There are people here who rely on him. Even Gibson — Little has to look out for him, doesn't he? He has to try to keep him safe, like the rest. That is his purpose now. Perhaps he's known that for a long time, but perhaps... he needed to be reminded by someone like this man sitting beside him.)
"....You are right, William." He finally says quietly, voice soft but heavy with sincerity. "Perhaps it is too easy for me to... forget, sometimes, that I am still needed here." It does sound pathetic even to his own ears, but he does truly feel that way. Especially now, with someone's blood on his hands — he hates himself. All he can see is his own weakness, his own failures, the people he's hurt.
But that doesn't take away the fact that other people need his help, too. He's still realising how the world doesn't function in black and white — good and bad, decent and indecent. There are grey areas; a man like Cornelius Hickey was someone he once called a monster, and yet Little has seen here that he isn't only that. A man like himself can try to do good and in that process, end up hurting people deeply.
"But I assure you, I won't give up. I can't." Despite everything he's said about wanting to... there is a deeply strong resolve capable of thriving inside of Edward Little. Maybe he's faltered from it, worn down again over time here, but maybe now... he's seeing it again; maybe he's needed a sort of fire lit beneath him, someone's unapologetic, blunt words to help him see clearly again. Gibson's exactly right; he can't absolve himself through inaction. He has to keep... going. Even if he loathes himself, he has to keep going.
Edward sighs deep and shaky, eyes still a little glossy with emotion, and nods at him. "I... I am deeply grateful for your ear, and your words. I wish that I might have come to you for wisdom in the past. You have much of it to offer." A different sort of perspective, grounded in... something else. Something Little still might struggle to see sometimes.
"There are many things I wish I had done differently. But.... I vow to you that I'll continue to do them here. To try my best, for them." He swallows. "For you, as well." (Sorry Billy... But he is going to be invested in trying to do better by you too, and keeping you safe...)
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Edward stares at him, surprised.
The truth is that he's understood what Gibson says. Maybe even before this place — because that was what drove him, back when things were crumbling, harder and harder. Despite the heaviness weighing on him for so long, wallowing would do nothing; Little functioned for the sake of the others. He pushed forward, unable to for his own sake but rather for them. Even if ultimately it did nothing, saved no one.
And here... It's been the only thing that has kept him going, if he were to be very honest. He's come close to giving in, more than once, but always he kept going. Trying to help the people here in the ways that he can, trying to do better this time, trying to keep living. It's just... it's not enough. Is it? Now a young man is dead because of him, and who has he really saved? Who has he really helped?
(There are people, his mind whispers, reminds him, echoing against Gibson's words. Kate Marsh, standing on the edge overlooking the Basin. Wynonna Earp, running into a blinding blizzard on her own. There are people here who rely on him. Even Gibson — Little has to look out for him, doesn't he? He has to try to keep him safe, like the rest. That is his purpose now. Perhaps he's known that for a long time, but perhaps... he needed to be reminded by someone like this man sitting beside him.)
"....You are right, William." He finally says quietly, voice soft but heavy with sincerity. "Perhaps it is too easy for me to... forget, sometimes, that I am still needed here." It does sound pathetic even to his own ears, but he does truly feel that way. Especially now, with someone's blood on his hands — he hates himself. All he can see is his own weakness, his own failures, the people he's hurt.
But that doesn't take away the fact that other people need his help, too. He's still realising how the world doesn't function in black and white — good and bad, decent and indecent. There are grey areas; a man like Cornelius Hickey was someone he once called a monster, and yet Little has seen here that he isn't only that. A man like himself can try to do good and in that process, end up hurting people deeply.
"But I assure you, I won't give up. I can't." Despite everything he's said about wanting to... there is a deeply strong resolve capable of thriving inside of Edward Little. Maybe he's faltered from it, worn down again over time here, but maybe now... he's seeing it again; maybe he's needed a sort of fire lit beneath him, someone's unapologetic, blunt words to help him see clearly again. Gibson's exactly right; he can't absolve himself through inaction. He has to keep... going. Even if he loathes himself, he has to keep going.
Edward sighs deep and shaky, eyes still a little glossy with emotion, and nods at him. "I... I am deeply grateful for your ear, and your words. I wish that I might have come to you for wisdom in the past. You have much of it to offer." A different sort of perspective, grounded in... something else. Something Little still might struggle to see sometimes.
"There are many things I wish I had done differently. But.... I vow to you that I'll continue to do them here. To try my best, for them." He swallows. "For you, as well." (Sorry Billy... But he is going to be invested in trying to do better by you too, and keeping you safe...)