Disclaimer: I don't own or even pretend to own anything having to do with "The Magnificent Seven". Mirsch, et al. own them.
Author's Note: This is just me reading Josiah's thoughts during one of his visits to his sister.
Hope is an ever-fleeting dream, a tease, a flirt, the refreshing caress of a sunbeam on a day of rain, there long enough to lift your spirits before casting you once more into the bitter pit of despair which has been your home for far too long, the delicate embrace of a fresh cool breeze on a hot, muggy summer day. Hope dwells in a realm far too close to the crushing despair that overwhelms the hardiest of souls - my soul.
Hope was all that Pandora had left once her box was opened. What chaos it has caused.
Pandora was not kind when she left hope, but its all we have, a small flash of light in the darkness, a small flash of recognition in your lost eyes, Hannah.
God what is this weight upon my heart, but hope?
A burden brought ever closer to Truth as I see the failing and fading - my failing and your fading. What have I wrought?
A failure to the core is what I have achieved, a failure of the most basic and firm type, a failure to protect my own.
Hannah, how can I make this up to you? How can I bring you home? Where can I go for answers? Why do I still hope?
Another day, dear sister. Vins here to drive me home. He wants to say hello, because he hopes too.