You flatter me, he said, mental voice wry. He could feel her reaction, wanted to try and assuage that moment of startled realization with what humor he could muster. It is you who are singularly unique.

And she was, at that. She had never asked him to consider abandoning his task, though others certainly had. She alone seemed to understand that the extinguishing of his own world didn't mean the fight was over -- that in all likelihood, it would never be over. And he thought that she also knew the unique frustration of watching those around her as they pursued their own interests, their own individual dreams and wishes, while she had consigned herself to the service of a greater whole.

She did not always agree with him. But she did understand.

He hated feeling vulnerable like this. He hated feeling doubt. It was singularly unfair that only now, after he'd already committed himself to fighting for others, he had finally discovered what he wanted for himself. But that was unimportant. He had to finish this, return her to the way she ought to be. The way she deserved to be. She had been more than kind in the last few days, in which they'd been forced to spend time in closer quarters with each other than he'd ever expected to exist with anyone.

I also care for you. Not... just as a friend. I would like to get to know you better, to become closer to you. To become someone you can trust, and care for in return.

There. That was enough, wasn't it? That should be enough to fulfill the conditions.