[ she doesn't want his pity. she doesn't want pity or condolences or hollow words of hope. she wanted his comfort and his steady hand beside her and the knowledge that, no matter what happened, he would be there to stand at her side.
alone, there is fear. the sudden, undeniable knowledge that the mission she is undertaking could very well kill her. there is only that awareness, and the contrasting misery of loss, that propels her.
her voice cracks, her eyes water, but it's with fury that she says the last words she can before the door opens. ]
[ he doesn't say anything else because there is nothing else to say. he watches her slam her out of the room and stands there, alone and bereft and completely at a loss. ]
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alone, there is fear. the sudden, undeniable knowledge that the mission she is undertaking could very well kill her. there is only that awareness, and the contrasting misery of loss, that propels her.
her voice cracks, her eyes water, but it's with fury that she says the last words she can before the door opens. ]
Go to hell, Illya.
[ maybe she'll see you there. ]
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