"Because I could've kept you, if I really wanted to." Jermaine blurts, eyes squeezed shut, sinking down onto a pillow near the tent. He put his face in his hands, blocking out the scene even as he sank into it. It was soft. Nice. He could see why Finn cherished the memory. It ached, a little, but not in a bad way... like pressure on a nearly healed bruise.

"It's not like we had iron clad instructions from Mom and Dad. There was this note we found, that was written like... years ago, when you were still really small. It just outlined what you needed, in case something happened. It mentioned that Jake's power could protect you. That's all we had to go on, but we didn't even really talk about it, it's like we both just... kinda understood that he'd take care of you alone." There was a strange edge to his voice, though not anger. Not this time. "He was always better at it. And like, I'm not mad about that, you're a great kid. Jeez, almost a man now, but... I dunno. I never really fought for you. I barely called, never visited..."

Wetness creeped down his muzzle. Jermaine hastily wipes it away.

"I have no memories in this place, Finn. I don't even know where to look for a statue of me in here, if there even is one."