[ Fuck this. She jerks her helmet off roughly, hair a mess as she scrubs away the tears blurring her vision. She resolutely keeps her gaze forward, not looking at Wash.
This is what she had been afraid of. The blame. The accusations. She'd betrayed him, abandoned him, broken every promise she'd ever made. And does it matter if she'd had good intentions? If she'd been trying to do the right thing?
She shakes her head, momentarily unable to speak past the lump in her throat. ]
Of course it's why.
[ What does he think? He knows she'd been feeding intel about Freelancer to the Insurrection. He knows why she'd left.
no subject
This is what she had been afraid of. The blame. The accusations. She'd betrayed him, abandoned him, broken every promise she'd ever made. And does it matter if she'd had good intentions? If she'd been trying to do the right thing?
She shakes her head, momentarily unable to speak past the lump in her throat. ]
Of course it's why.
[ What does he think? He knows she'd been feeding intel about Freelancer to the Insurrection. He knows why she'd left.
Doesn't he? ]
I had to.
I tried to tell you, but -
[ "Wake the fuck up, Wash."
He hadn't listened. ]