At the mention of Emanuel, she winces, a line of tension contracting in her body. She turns her head away so he can't see her face.

"The children shouldn't have to pay for our crimes. We're the ones who chose this life. We're the ones who should pay. Not them."

It's not a rationale, maybe he can tell. It's something more than that. A self-imposed exile. A hair shirt she thought she'd laid down many years ago, only to discover the wounds are just as fresh as if they'd been opened yesterday.

"Emanuel..." Her voice breaks.