He cannot fully forget Prilkop's warning about the dangers of a Prophet and Catalyst remaining in such close proximity to each other after achieving their life's work. The Prophet should push him away, should let their paths diverge now that the work is done.

But the Fool, by his own admission, has never been wise.

Fitz's weak laughter brings an echo of it out of the Fool who, disregarding the state of Fitz's clothes, only tightens his embrace before reluctantly forcing himself to let go. He steps back just enough to place his hands on Fitz's arms and look him over, as though searching for the marks of time upon him--but no, he is nearly exactly as he was when the Fool left him behind. "Oh Fitz," he sighs, his expression growing melancholic, "I had hoped you would go to Molly, that you would be with her now."

(A uniquely painful hope, to wish his love into the arms of someone else. But he knows Fitz's heart.)