His face flushed and he nodded. They had no reason to trust him, no reason to see him as anything but their enemy. It didn’t take an empath to understand that his life’s work represented the obliteration of theirs. He collapsed into a chair, burying his face in his hands, unable to reconcile the reality of these empaths with the singular passion that had guided the last twenty years of his practice. In his arrogance, he had compared Parness to the Nazis. The laugh that squeezed out of his tight throat held an edge of hysteria. No matter that his intensions had been good. He and Parness were not so different after all.
It will take some time for him to forgive himself--likely longer than it will take for Izzi and company to forgive him.