[@Remipa Awesome][@thewizardguy][@PuRe DaRkNeSs]

Mithias stepped back and slumped slowly into a chair. The conversation was between Gabriel and Hank now, leaving Mithias to merely watch with all due concern. Of course Gabriel was right in that new memories would always be made. Trying to shield Hank from them was an ineffective and laughable idea. Pain and suffering were part of life, especially for a blood drinker. But to lose his human empathy? Mithias inhaled anxiously but dared not speak a word. He forced himself to lean back and remain silent. Gabriel was beyond a master at this, and Mithias trusted him completely. Even if he decided to unmake Hank, it would have been no worse an ending than if Hank had killed himself. Surely godlike power and eons of understanding of the mind would make Gabriel the perfect surgeon, so to speak. A challenge requiring such delicacy as this would doubtlessly entice him, giving him a chance to demonstrate his unmatched expertise. 

If he cut just his empathy, Hank would no longer feel for the pain of others and suffer from emotional attachment, but what else would change? 

In answer to this, Mithias considered himself in comparison. How much empathy had he himself lost after all this time? Indeed, he had regrets. He had made mistakes that he remembered, but somehow he had been able to let them go. He had been able to forgive himself and move on. Did that make him a callous ass? A unfeeling monster? Heartless? No... No, he was still capable of feeling the kind of pain that Hank felt. He knew that much. Yet it seemed to Mithias like the sacrifices along the way were justified, like the felling of any prey to a simple predator, natural, or simply part of fate's cruel plan and beyond his own control. As long as his intentions were pure... He accepted that he could not hold onto everyone he loved forever, and he believed in the value of his own life. Whatever deaths or suffering he may have caused in the past, he was still capable of great good, and he would never give up trying. Hope it seemed, was the antidote to Hank's illness. Hope, and the belief in the value of one's own life. 

But what did he know?

Mithias opened his eyes to see Hank, Gabriel's hand leaving his forehead. Whatever had been done was done. Hank had agreed. Mithias stood up to study his child curiously. "Thank you, father." He said softly, with the truest of deep gratitude... and hope.