Don't let yourself believe for a second, Washington, that you weren't willing to make good on that promise. For once he's the one with the power in this scenario, and there's absolutely no thrill in it whatsoever; there's no bite of victory, no pride, no satisfaction in witnessing the way their roles have reversed.

There's only a sour taste clinging to the roof of his mouth, bile slicking the back of his throat.

This was supposed to be over. And yet - no. He's back, the Director, and everything he represents, because they can never really be free of him.

He snaps the pistol from the Director's grip and clamps it to the mag-strip at his thigh, and no part of him breathes easier, no part of him feels better for it, and no part of him knows what to do next except:

Carolina.

It's not fair to pass this along to her, but - she'd want to know, wouldn't she?

"How long ago did you wake up here?"