Warehouse 13 Fic: This is goodbye: 5-6/?
Title: This is goodbye
Author: Carly Carter
Fandom: Warehouse 13
Characters: Myka centric fic.
Rating: PG ish, some language, violence, adultish themes
Disclaimer: Don't own anything!
Summary: Sets off in mid episode 10 "Regrets" then diverges from canon.
And then, the horrifying sound of the shot being fired.
The surprised and wounded cry from Pete Lattimer's lips.
The heavy dull thud as he crashes to the ground.
And blood, Pete's blood, spilling out over the cold prison floor.
Chapters 1 & 2 carlyisnot.livejournal.com/35399.html
Chapters 3 & 4 carlyisnot.livejournal.com/35770.html
Chapter 5
Myka is not naïve enough to believe she can hide from Artie. What she is counting on is the fact that Artie wont be bothered looking for her. That he will be busy with the warehouse, with finding her replacement. That he considers her just not worth the effort anymore.
Besides, Artie doesn't like to make a scene. She has always had the ability to make him uncomfortable in a confrontation. Never more so than that day in the mirror, telling him the things on her heart, the things they both knew but never spoke of. Telling him how much she admired and respected him, how much she craved his admiration in return. She saw the extreme discomfort in his eyes that day. It's not like he is going to come after her for any answers, for explanations.
Not like Pete.
She thinks back to her impossible wish the first day in the warehouse. Her simple yet desperate wish. To go home. To get the hell away from that crazy warehouse. To have her life back. Not such an 'impossible' wish, as it happens. She wonders in that moment if Pete-the-ferret has vanished in a puff of smoke because of it. That thought is profoundly unsettling and twists her heart into knots. Because if she is going to lose everything, her job, her very identity, her partner, her home, her family- she should at least get to keep that ferret. Somehow, the thought of losing him makes her feel more alone than anything else. Because he, that stupid creature, is the only one that won't be looking to her with judgement, or worse, with disappointment. He accepts her as she is. He won't turn on her, no matter what. And as long as she keeps feeding him, she matters to him, she is the most important person in the world to him, and that thought is enticing to her. Almost enticing enough to make her consider going back to the warehouse to get him. Almost, but not quite.
Even after all of this, Myka is still some semblance of the person she has always been. By the book. The thought of fleeing in disgrace fills her with unrest. There is a proper way to do things, and she will do it. She will simply take Artie out of the equation, that's all. They will both be more comfortable that way. She will find some way of contacting Mrs Frederick. Preferably in writing, and not face to face. She will resign and that will be the end of it. Nice and neat. A pleasing result to everyone concerned.
As she sits in an obscure diner, in the middle of nowhere, not even certain any-more which state she is currently in, she thinks back to her first day at the warehouse. She wonders how things got so upside down. How in a relatively short space of time it has come to feel like her heart is being ripped out of her chest at the thought of not being part of the warehouse, the team. How the place transformed from a jail to a home. How the people around her became family. It took her long enough to realise it, her own family never provided her with an appropriate example. But family, and home, is what she considers she had fleetingly possessed.
Nothing should surprise her any longer, yet she still jumps out of her skin when she is startled from her self pitying thoughts by the voice behind her.
“Agent Berring.” Mrs Frederick greets her. Almost as if she had been reading Myka's mind. Almost as if she had been waiting for here, right here in the middle of no place.
“Mrs Frederick.” Is all Myka can manage to stumble “I was just...Actually...”
“May I sit?” Mrs Frederick asks. The woman has a gentle yet commanding presence that it is impossible to argue with. Myka nods in acknowledgement.
After a minute of silence, Myka looks to the other woman across the table questioningly, waiting for her to speak.
“You were the one who wanted to discuss something with me, I believe.” Mrs Frederick prompts her.
“How did you know that?” Myka asks, before shaking her head quickly “Never mind, I don't want to know.”
“Well then, I'm a very busy woman.”
“Of course.” Myka stumbles. She is nervous of the other woman, undoubtedly. But this professional, formal, and slightly intimidating exchange is still preferable in her mind to a confrontation with Artie. “I think we all agree it is best for all concerned if I leave the warehouse.”
Mrs Frederick sighs wearily. “I felt certain I had made myself perfectly clear on that matter from the start. This is not a voluntary assignment. You work for me now, for the warehouse, this is not negotiable.”
“You don't understand, I am leaving the secret service all together.”
“I am afraid that is not acceptable either. There are security considerations, you must understand, you can not just up and leave when the fancy takes you.”
“You really don't understand, I'm not capable of doing my job, I'm a danger to the people I work with, a hazard to the warehouse itself.” It pained Myka to admit it, filled her with failure and shame and dread. But it was the truth. The simple, horrible truth. She lost her mind totally, on the job. Pete almost died because of it. Mrs Frederick would have to listen to that.
“I'm certain Arthur would inform me if that were the case.” Mrs Frederick answers confidently.
“I'm certain he will.” Myka answers back.
“Until that time then, I'll be expecting you to do the job assigned to you.” Mrs Frederick stands to leave, feeling that the matter has been made perfectly clear.
“Wait..” Myka calls out. But she can not bring herself to tell the story, the vision of Sam, shooting Pete. She can not bring herself to let this woman into her deepest darkest thoughts.
Mrs Frederick looks at her for a moment, a flicker in time. Looks right through her. It makes Myka feel exposed. She finds it a different kind of torment to the feeling of invisibility. Something equally unsettling. And then, Mrs Fredericks gaze shifts, to something over the top of Myka's head.
“Well, speak of the devil.” Mrs Frederick utters, and Myka doesn't have to look over her shoulder to know that Artie is standing right behind her.
~
Earlier that morning
Pete snuck up on her silently in her solitude that morning. The remnants of breakfast still matted to his hair, hot angry tears still stinging her eyes. If looks could kill, he would have been dead on the spot. She would have killed him with her bare hands for one snide remark in that moment.
“We've got a case, unexplained suicides in a prison, we haven't got all day, are you coming?” He said casually.
She could have kissed him right there, for his 'business as usual' attitude. Yet, it alarmed her on some level, this “nice” Pete who didn't taunt her relentlessly or snap at her or bicker with her. Did he think of her as too fragile? Too unstable? In a way that scared her more than the moment when she had lost her cool and smashed her plate over his head. She had to bring it back to something more natural, more normal.
“I'm not going anywhere with you until you take a shower.” She told him, as she flicked the pieces of breakfast from his hair. She forced a slight smile onto her face and blinked back the tears hoping that he hadn't noticed.
“Oh, well whose fault is that?” He answered playfully.
“I'm driving.” She told him as she snatched the keys from him.
“I don't think so, we wanna get there before Christmas.” He remarked, earning him a playful punch in the arm.
And just like that, things were back to normal. Just like that he was her Pete again. And she was struck suddenly by the knowledge that she could never stand to lose what they had.
~~
Chapter 6
Thing is, it wasn't hard to find her. Finding her had been the easiest part of all, as it turned out. The difficult thing had been to approach her. Artie had seen something in her eyes as he watched from the shadows. Desperation, disappointment, darkness. He had heard something catch in Pete's voice as he told only part of the story. It makes him feel like he doesn't really want to know. All he wants is things to go back to normal. And he hasn't the first idea how to make that happen. He feels, for the first time in a long time, utterly helpless, and that feeling does not sit well with him.
That's why he had watched her for hours before he had approached her. And only then because he had caught Mrs Frederick's eye.
“I'll leave you to it.” Mrs Frederick is quick to make her exit, leaving him lost and fumbling, trying hard to maintain a confident veneer.
She takes the pressure off him by speaking first, coming straight to the point. “I can't work for you anymore, I think we both know that.” She tells him matter of factly.
“We do?” He asks.
“I shot Pete.” She informs him needlessly.
“Would you like to tell me about that? Pete was a little fuzzy on the details...” Artie answers.
“Details don't really matter.”
“Pete is fine, by the way.” Artie tells her. And he sees something flicker in her eyes at his words. But she gains her composure quickly.
“This time.” She adds.
“Are you planning on shooting at him again?” Artie asks. He is trying to make light of it somehow, as if they can laugh it all off and things will be suddenly back to normal.
“What is your problem? This isn't a joke.” Myka reprimands him.
“My problem is that I am very confused.” He admits.
“Let me simplify it for you, Artie. I do not want to be part of this anymore.”
He sighs, shaking his head slightly. “That is not new, Myka, that is the same old song you've been singing from day one. Get over it.” This is not entirely true. Artie had come to believe that both she and Pete were happy and fulfilled at the warehouse. But he is trying desperately hard to remain confident. It was always the upper hand he had with Myka. He knew so much more than she, he saw the big picture. She might not have been sure about or happy about her appointment at the warehouse, be he was certain about it. That would have to be enough for them both.
“What's the big deal, agents come and go right? What does it matter to you? Find someone else.” She insists.
Artie can not find an answer to her question. Try as he might the words get lost in his throat. Yes, people come and go. Yes he has lost many agents. Too damn many. Each one significant in their own way. But what he has right now, Claudia, Leena, Pete, Myka, it's different. What they have, what they share, it means something more to him. But he is not able to articulate it.
“This isn't open for discussion.” He tells her calmly. “You are part of my team, end of story.”
“I shot Pete! I nearly killed him!” Myka is yelling now, standing to her feet, towering over him.
“He'll get over it.” Artie remarks. And he really believes it. Pete doesn't seem to harbour any ill will towards Myka about whatever happened in that jail that lead to him getting shot, to her taking off and leaving him for dead.
“There is no trust, no cohesion, in this team anymore. How can he trust me, how can you? It's dangerous.”
Artie only shrugs. “These things happen in our line of work. I really think you're making far too much out of this.”
“That's your answer is it? Oh well, these things happen, just forget the whole thing?” She demands to know. And for unexplainable, indefinable reasons, she sits back down opposite him.
“What is it that you want me to say, Myka?” He asks.
What she wants is for him to make it easy for her. To tell her in no uncertain terms that she let them all down, that she isn't capable of doing her job. That she has to go. And she doesn't understand why he doesn't just do it and get it over with.
“Nothing, Artie, there is nothing I want you to say.” She answers finally.
Awkward silence ensues. She taps her fingers nervously on the table top. He folds his arms, sitting back in his chair, waiting. Asking himself why she is being so obstinate. She doesn't want to tell him what happened, she doesn't want him to sweep it all under the rug, and he can't quite make any sense of it. All she seems to be asking for is to get the hell out of there, and he just can't let him self believe that she really truly wants that.
“I don't trust you.” She tells him quietly, refusing to look him in the eyes.
“That's not new either.” He answers tiredly.
“I don't trust Pete.” She adds softly. “The two of you didn't even notice the difference between me and that thing. I can see how valued I am as part of the team. And you, you're the worst, you looked right at me, right through me, and refused to acknowledge me. Claudia tried to tell you, Leena tried, I tried. It meant nothing to you. If it was left to you and Pete, I'd still be there, do you realise that? You, Artie, have broken my trust, and it can't rectified. Ever. I can't work with either of you anymore. That's all there is to it.”
“I saved you.” He offers feebly in his own defence. Remembering how happy he had been to see her, how she had thrown herself into his arms. How he had apologised, how he had thought he was getting somewhere.
“It was your fault I was trapped in there in the first place. I never asked for this assignment. I never asked to be stuck at that warehouse. I don't want to be part of this, I never did. You can't play God, Artie. This is my life, I want it back.”
She doesn't entirely mean those words. While she had been hurt and angry at the two of them, that had been long since overshadowed with her own feelings of guilt and inadequacy. But hurling accusations at him seemed the best way to get him to back off, to get him to let her go. She doesn't really mean that she wants her life back, because she is now incapable of imagining her life outside the warehouse, away from Pete, it's out of the realms of her comprehension. Yet there was a time she felt that way, there was a part of her still angry, still hurt about the mirror, and there was a desperate darkness in her eyes that tinged the words, making her performance powerful and convincing.
“I know that I let you down, and I am unbelievably sorry.” Artie tells her. She can't stand the sadness in his voice, the sincerity, the compassion. It's almost enough to break her. And she refuses to break down in front of him. She needs to stay angry, she needs to stay in control.
“Sorry isn't enough.” She tells him coldly, and it takes everything in her to look him in the eyes in that moment, fire blazing in her own eyes. Righteous anger and indignation and betrayal. She knows she needs to convince him that she is angry at him, that she blames him, that she doesn't trust him anymore. That he feels bad about the situation, she has no doubt, and she feels momentarily bad using his on guilt against him. But it has to be done. There is no other way.
“I'm sorry all the same.” He tells her.
He stands to his feet, conceding defeat. “If leaving is what you want...”He begins
“It is.” She cuts him off before she can lose her nerve. Before the tears start falling and she can't fight off that overwhelming urge to take back her words. To tell him she is sorry, that she didn't mean it.
“Very well then.” He answers.
He stops still, opens his mouth, as if he is about to say something. As if he is trying to find a way to turn back the conversation. But there is simply nothing left to say.
~
Author: Carly Carter
Fandom: Warehouse 13
Characters: Myka centric fic.
Rating: PG ish, some language, violence, adultish themes
Disclaimer: Don't own anything!
Summary: Sets off in mid episode 10 "Regrets" then diverges from canon.
And then, the horrifying sound of the shot being fired.
The surprised and wounded cry from Pete Lattimer's lips.
The heavy dull thud as he crashes to the ground.
And blood, Pete's blood, spilling out over the cold prison floor.
Chapters 1 & 2 carlyisnot.livejournal.com/35399.html
Chapters 3 & 4 carlyisnot.livejournal.com/35770.html
Chapter 5
Myka is not naïve enough to believe she can hide from Artie. What she is counting on is the fact that Artie wont be bothered looking for her. That he will be busy with the warehouse, with finding her replacement. That he considers her just not worth the effort anymore.
Besides, Artie doesn't like to make a scene. She has always had the ability to make him uncomfortable in a confrontation. Never more so than that day in the mirror, telling him the things on her heart, the things they both knew but never spoke of. Telling him how much she admired and respected him, how much she craved his admiration in return. She saw the extreme discomfort in his eyes that day. It's not like he is going to come after her for any answers, for explanations.
Not like Pete.
She thinks back to her impossible wish the first day in the warehouse. Her simple yet desperate wish. To go home. To get the hell away from that crazy warehouse. To have her life back. Not such an 'impossible' wish, as it happens. She wonders in that moment if Pete-the-ferret has vanished in a puff of smoke because of it. That thought is profoundly unsettling and twists her heart into knots. Because if she is going to lose everything, her job, her very identity, her partner, her home, her family- she should at least get to keep that ferret. Somehow, the thought of losing him makes her feel more alone than anything else. Because he, that stupid creature, is the only one that won't be looking to her with judgement, or worse, with disappointment. He accepts her as she is. He won't turn on her, no matter what. And as long as she keeps feeding him, she matters to him, she is the most important person in the world to him, and that thought is enticing to her. Almost enticing enough to make her consider going back to the warehouse to get him. Almost, but not quite.
Even after all of this, Myka is still some semblance of the person she has always been. By the book. The thought of fleeing in disgrace fills her with unrest. There is a proper way to do things, and she will do it. She will simply take Artie out of the equation, that's all. They will both be more comfortable that way. She will find some way of contacting Mrs Frederick. Preferably in writing, and not face to face. She will resign and that will be the end of it. Nice and neat. A pleasing result to everyone concerned.
As she sits in an obscure diner, in the middle of nowhere, not even certain any-more which state she is currently in, she thinks back to her first day at the warehouse. She wonders how things got so upside down. How in a relatively short space of time it has come to feel like her heart is being ripped out of her chest at the thought of not being part of the warehouse, the team. How the place transformed from a jail to a home. How the people around her became family. It took her long enough to realise it, her own family never provided her with an appropriate example. But family, and home, is what she considers she had fleetingly possessed.
Nothing should surprise her any longer, yet she still jumps out of her skin when she is startled from her self pitying thoughts by the voice behind her.
“Agent Berring.” Mrs Frederick greets her. Almost as if she had been reading Myka's mind. Almost as if she had been waiting for here, right here in the middle of no place.
“Mrs Frederick.” Is all Myka can manage to stumble “I was just...Actually...”
“May I sit?” Mrs Frederick asks. The woman has a gentle yet commanding presence that it is impossible to argue with. Myka nods in acknowledgement.
After a minute of silence, Myka looks to the other woman across the table questioningly, waiting for her to speak.
“You were the one who wanted to discuss something with me, I believe.” Mrs Frederick prompts her.
“How did you know that?” Myka asks, before shaking her head quickly “Never mind, I don't want to know.”
“Well then, I'm a very busy woman.”
“Of course.” Myka stumbles. She is nervous of the other woman, undoubtedly. But this professional, formal, and slightly intimidating exchange is still preferable in her mind to a confrontation with Artie. “I think we all agree it is best for all concerned if I leave the warehouse.”
Mrs Frederick sighs wearily. “I felt certain I had made myself perfectly clear on that matter from the start. This is not a voluntary assignment. You work for me now, for the warehouse, this is not negotiable.”
“You don't understand, I am leaving the secret service all together.”
“I am afraid that is not acceptable either. There are security considerations, you must understand, you can not just up and leave when the fancy takes you.”
“You really don't understand, I'm not capable of doing my job, I'm a danger to the people I work with, a hazard to the warehouse itself.” It pained Myka to admit it, filled her with failure and shame and dread. But it was the truth. The simple, horrible truth. She lost her mind totally, on the job. Pete almost died because of it. Mrs Frederick would have to listen to that.
“I'm certain Arthur would inform me if that were the case.” Mrs Frederick answers confidently.
“I'm certain he will.” Myka answers back.
“Until that time then, I'll be expecting you to do the job assigned to you.” Mrs Frederick stands to leave, feeling that the matter has been made perfectly clear.
“Wait..” Myka calls out. But she can not bring herself to tell the story, the vision of Sam, shooting Pete. She can not bring herself to let this woman into her deepest darkest thoughts.
Mrs Frederick looks at her for a moment, a flicker in time. Looks right through her. It makes Myka feel exposed. She finds it a different kind of torment to the feeling of invisibility. Something equally unsettling. And then, Mrs Fredericks gaze shifts, to something over the top of Myka's head.
“Well, speak of the devil.” Mrs Frederick utters, and Myka doesn't have to look over her shoulder to know that Artie is standing right behind her.
~
Earlier that morning
Pete snuck up on her silently in her solitude that morning. The remnants of breakfast still matted to his hair, hot angry tears still stinging her eyes. If looks could kill, he would have been dead on the spot. She would have killed him with her bare hands for one snide remark in that moment.
“We've got a case, unexplained suicides in a prison, we haven't got all day, are you coming?” He said casually.
She could have kissed him right there, for his 'business as usual' attitude. Yet, it alarmed her on some level, this “nice” Pete who didn't taunt her relentlessly or snap at her or bicker with her. Did he think of her as too fragile? Too unstable? In a way that scared her more than the moment when she had lost her cool and smashed her plate over his head. She had to bring it back to something more natural, more normal.
“I'm not going anywhere with you until you take a shower.” She told him, as she flicked the pieces of breakfast from his hair. She forced a slight smile onto her face and blinked back the tears hoping that he hadn't noticed.
“Oh, well whose fault is that?” He answered playfully.
“I'm driving.” She told him as she snatched the keys from him.
“I don't think so, we wanna get there before Christmas.” He remarked, earning him a playful punch in the arm.
And just like that, things were back to normal. Just like that he was her Pete again. And she was struck suddenly by the knowledge that she could never stand to lose what they had.
~~
Chapter 6
Thing is, it wasn't hard to find her. Finding her had been the easiest part of all, as it turned out. The difficult thing had been to approach her. Artie had seen something in her eyes as he watched from the shadows. Desperation, disappointment, darkness. He had heard something catch in Pete's voice as he told only part of the story. It makes him feel like he doesn't really want to know. All he wants is things to go back to normal. And he hasn't the first idea how to make that happen. He feels, for the first time in a long time, utterly helpless, and that feeling does not sit well with him.
That's why he had watched her for hours before he had approached her. And only then because he had caught Mrs Frederick's eye.
“I'll leave you to it.” Mrs Frederick is quick to make her exit, leaving him lost and fumbling, trying hard to maintain a confident veneer.
She takes the pressure off him by speaking first, coming straight to the point. “I can't work for you anymore, I think we both know that.” She tells him matter of factly.
“We do?” He asks.
“I shot Pete.” She informs him needlessly.
“Would you like to tell me about that? Pete was a little fuzzy on the details...” Artie answers.
“Details don't really matter.”
“Pete is fine, by the way.” Artie tells her. And he sees something flicker in her eyes at his words. But she gains her composure quickly.
“This time.” She adds.
“Are you planning on shooting at him again?” Artie asks. He is trying to make light of it somehow, as if they can laugh it all off and things will be suddenly back to normal.
“What is your problem? This isn't a joke.” Myka reprimands him.
“My problem is that I am very confused.” He admits.
“Let me simplify it for you, Artie. I do not want to be part of this anymore.”
He sighs, shaking his head slightly. “That is not new, Myka, that is the same old song you've been singing from day one. Get over it.” This is not entirely true. Artie had come to believe that both she and Pete were happy and fulfilled at the warehouse. But he is trying desperately hard to remain confident. It was always the upper hand he had with Myka. He knew so much more than she, he saw the big picture. She might not have been sure about or happy about her appointment at the warehouse, be he was certain about it. That would have to be enough for them both.
“What's the big deal, agents come and go right? What does it matter to you? Find someone else.” She insists.
Artie can not find an answer to her question. Try as he might the words get lost in his throat. Yes, people come and go. Yes he has lost many agents. Too damn many. Each one significant in their own way. But what he has right now, Claudia, Leena, Pete, Myka, it's different. What they have, what they share, it means something more to him. But he is not able to articulate it.
“This isn't open for discussion.” He tells her calmly. “You are part of my team, end of story.”
“I shot Pete! I nearly killed him!” Myka is yelling now, standing to her feet, towering over him.
“He'll get over it.” Artie remarks. And he really believes it. Pete doesn't seem to harbour any ill will towards Myka about whatever happened in that jail that lead to him getting shot, to her taking off and leaving him for dead.
“There is no trust, no cohesion, in this team anymore. How can he trust me, how can you? It's dangerous.”
Artie only shrugs. “These things happen in our line of work. I really think you're making far too much out of this.”
“That's your answer is it? Oh well, these things happen, just forget the whole thing?” She demands to know. And for unexplainable, indefinable reasons, she sits back down opposite him.
“What is it that you want me to say, Myka?” He asks.
What she wants is for him to make it easy for her. To tell her in no uncertain terms that she let them all down, that she isn't capable of doing her job. That she has to go. And she doesn't understand why he doesn't just do it and get it over with.
“Nothing, Artie, there is nothing I want you to say.” She answers finally.
Awkward silence ensues. She taps her fingers nervously on the table top. He folds his arms, sitting back in his chair, waiting. Asking himself why she is being so obstinate. She doesn't want to tell him what happened, she doesn't want him to sweep it all under the rug, and he can't quite make any sense of it. All she seems to be asking for is to get the hell out of there, and he just can't let him self believe that she really truly wants that.
“I don't trust you.” She tells him quietly, refusing to look him in the eyes.
“That's not new either.” He answers tiredly.
“I don't trust Pete.” She adds softly. “The two of you didn't even notice the difference between me and that thing. I can see how valued I am as part of the team. And you, you're the worst, you looked right at me, right through me, and refused to acknowledge me. Claudia tried to tell you, Leena tried, I tried. It meant nothing to you. If it was left to you and Pete, I'd still be there, do you realise that? You, Artie, have broken my trust, and it can't rectified. Ever. I can't work with either of you anymore. That's all there is to it.”
“I saved you.” He offers feebly in his own defence. Remembering how happy he had been to see her, how she had thrown herself into his arms. How he had apologised, how he had thought he was getting somewhere.
“It was your fault I was trapped in there in the first place. I never asked for this assignment. I never asked to be stuck at that warehouse. I don't want to be part of this, I never did. You can't play God, Artie. This is my life, I want it back.”
She doesn't entirely mean those words. While she had been hurt and angry at the two of them, that had been long since overshadowed with her own feelings of guilt and inadequacy. But hurling accusations at him seemed the best way to get him to back off, to get him to let her go. She doesn't really mean that she wants her life back, because she is now incapable of imagining her life outside the warehouse, away from Pete, it's out of the realms of her comprehension. Yet there was a time she felt that way, there was a part of her still angry, still hurt about the mirror, and there was a desperate darkness in her eyes that tinged the words, making her performance powerful and convincing.
“I know that I let you down, and I am unbelievably sorry.” Artie tells her. She can't stand the sadness in his voice, the sincerity, the compassion. It's almost enough to break her. And she refuses to break down in front of him. She needs to stay angry, she needs to stay in control.
“Sorry isn't enough.” She tells him coldly, and it takes everything in her to look him in the eyes in that moment, fire blazing in her own eyes. Righteous anger and indignation and betrayal. She knows she needs to convince him that she is angry at him, that she blames him, that she doesn't trust him anymore. That he feels bad about the situation, she has no doubt, and she feels momentarily bad using his on guilt against him. But it has to be done. There is no other way.
“I'm sorry all the same.” He tells her.
He stands to his feet, conceding defeat. “If leaving is what you want...”He begins
“It is.” She cuts him off before she can lose her nerve. Before the tears start falling and she can't fight off that overwhelming urge to take back her words. To tell him she is sorry, that she didn't mean it.
“Very well then.” He answers.
He stops still, opens his mouth, as if he is about to say something. As if he is trying to find a way to turn back the conversation. But there is simply nothing left to say.
~