"I had enough shit cut out of my head when I was a kid," Jack said quietly after a long stretch of minutes, "Burned out, chemically and a dozen other fucking ways. Anger's what I got left. All I had and mostly still all I fuckin' got. Working on it, though. I wouldn't give much of a shit but these other assholes I can't help myself caring about, it matters to them. If I cut the anger out I don't know if there'd be enough left for that."

And.. it mattered. Being able to care about her family. Being able to recognize they cared about her. It mattered and she didn't want it to stop mattering.

It would if there was nothing left.

She looked at him and said even more quietly, "That's what he meant, huh? By tired?" She could see it. She would have called it fatigue. Tired was when you slept. Fatigue was when you sat there and stared at the wall because there was no energy to even lie down and try to sleep.