“And God knows the Devil’s tried.” Meaning Fagin, of course, but there's a twinge at the back of his mind that says there was another devil involved, the devil that almost did the real work of it, though he refuses to listen to that thought refuses to give it any heed or credit because it's nothing, it's nothing, it's in the past. It's... What's done is done, and it can't ever happen again. Won't happen. Nothing on this sad excuse for an earth could prompt him into causing her pain. Certainly, nothing could make him go so far as… It isn't worth thinking.

That night’ll never be repeated, that’s what matters.

He draws her body to his, willing his head to stop churning, focusing instead on her warmth, how right she feels up next to him, how strange it is to find so much comfort in being close to someone. How he can feel the beat of her heart against his own, how her skin is softer to the touch than anything, how at times like this she makes him forget the weary old world. And those scars... Though he doesn't like the flash of memory they carry, she looks none the worse for them, wears them well and glows in spite of everything. She is - right now, she certainly seems to be - the only thing he needs in life.

"Christ, I love you."