One of my favorite bits from HANNA, HANNA, ONE-and-TWO:
…And so Nat became more than Bill’s best friend. He became his trusted confidant, his hands and feet from beyond the grave. Nat knew the plan and had committed to seeing it through.
Even when it meant pissing Matthew Mode off.
Even when it meant doing things that were perceived as crazy or impulsive.
Even when nobody else on the planet would be able to comprehend his actions.
Years before, when he’d promised his best friend he’d keep his little sister safe, it had been a promise based in simple belief – belief over who Bill insisted she was – what she was. Then Nat saw her. Sixteen years old and small as a bird, locked in a compound designed to keep her safely tucked away from the rest of the population…she’d been so young then. And strong; what had happened to her hadn’t made her weak. It had made her brave. He didn’t know anybody else who could have withstood it – watching her brother’s murder, keeping silent through the torture, all the while knowing what she knew – without going crazy.
And, damn it, she was pretty.
That day his heart had grabbed a knife and carved her name into it. Instalove. He snorted a little. It was a ridiculous, trite notion. That didn’t matter, though. He loved her.
His promise was no longer a stale thing done out of cerebral conviction. It was a heaving, grieving, bittersweet thing. He would protect her, and follow through with Bill’s plan…
But he wasn’t sure it wouldn’t kill him to do it.