[ Her voice is iron, utterly unyielding. The unspoken part: you made me a liar, too. They could have walked it back if he hadn’t been there, muddying the waters. She could have dragged Pope back to the center and things would have gone back to normal. They could have had a community, walls.
But that’s nothing but wistful thinking. It’s not what happened and she’s always had a tendency to get emotional, her mother sighing at the dinner table, you know I can’t hear you when you get like this, sweetie; her first sergeant, sneering and almost sad after the first time she scraped a corpse off the sand; you gonna fucking cry now, Shaw? You gonna be a girl about it? I knew you’d fucking cry.
Pope, glasses shining, when she knew she was his favorite: You can do better than that.
Pope, gurgling as he died under her boot. She wasn’t yet a liar then but it was coming. Inevitable as the fire, as Pope’s wrath of God shining in the blood. ]
Then your back was to a wall, and you killed my brother. You thought I’d take your hand after you did that? You thought I’d give them up so easily?
[ There’d been a moment where she’d thought about it, is the thing. Not leaving them, no, never, but finding an angle to make it work. A moment where she might have taken his hand after all and bodied the cost. And then she’d seen Ancheta lying there, and that made it so very simple. ]
It doesn’t matter what you wanted, Daryl. That’s not what happened.
cw: misogyny
[ Her voice is iron, utterly unyielding. The unspoken part: you made me a liar, too. They could have walked it back if he hadn’t been there, muddying the waters. She could have dragged Pope back to the center and things would have gone back to normal. They could have had a community, walls.
But that’s nothing but wistful thinking. It’s not what happened and she’s always had a tendency to get emotional, her mother sighing at the dinner table, you know I can’t hear you when you get like this, sweetie; her first sergeant, sneering and almost sad after the first time she scraped a corpse off the sand; you gonna fucking cry now, Shaw? You gonna be a girl about it? I knew you’d fucking cry.
Pope, glasses shining, when she knew she was his favorite: You can do better than that.
Pope, gurgling as he died under her boot. She wasn’t yet a liar then but it was coming. Inevitable as the fire, as Pope’s wrath of God shining in the blood. ]
Then your back was to a wall, and you killed my brother. You thought I’d take your hand after you did that? You thought I’d give them up so easily?
[ There’d been a moment where she’d thought about it, is the thing. Not leaving them, no, never, but finding an angle to make it work. A moment where she might have taken his hand after all and bodied the cost. And then she’d seen Ancheta lying there, and that made it so very simple. ]
It doesn’t matter what you wanted, Daryl. That’s not what happened.