Sister Maggie saw Matthew as Lantom did. As one of God's Hands. A catalyst, a man with a cause. He was a divine instrument, not a son first. Just as he'd been to Stick. Oh, there was love embedded, there was compassion and guidance, but at the end of the day? Since Matt was nine he was raised by people who saw an overarching war and guiding rightness as what mattered far more than Matt's life. It had molded Matt, shaped him, and he couldn't be angry at it because he believed in it, too. He served a higher purpose. There were things that mattered more than his life. His own mother would agree with it, as much as she might mourn his death if he died.

It was in direct opposition to Eleanor and the Bishop situation.

Was one right? Was one wrong? Was the story of Abraham and Isaac a testament to faith or child abuse? He'd read Kirkegaard's Fear and Trembling countless times and still found himself circling that moral quandary of where religious, social, and legal law met. Where did personal accountability blur into familial pride or religious devotion?

He gave Eleanor a small smile and nod, a smile that was tired and a touch sad, but understanding and not without sincerity. He genuinely did wish her well.

He made no promises on seeking her aid should he need help but he did say, "I hope your talk with Kate goes well."

Hearing of the trouble at the hospital, his eyes widened. Maggie was there. He stood up, fumbling a little in pushing the chair in.

"I'm coming with you." It wasn't a question as he moved to head out the door with Claire.