She does not blame him. She cannot blame him.

There's nothing else inside me.

After all, he warned her. He never told her it would end in happiness.

I'll only hurt you.

She can only fault him for leaving her to deal with everything he started. It is her job to face Meredith, the templars. It is her life on line.

But she cannot blame him for that either. Before today, she would have thrown her life down for him.

She cannot hate him.

But some things matter more than my life, more than either of us.

But she will always carry the knowledge that her love was not enough. It is this thought that turns in her head and grows bitterly. It is this thought that taints the past three years and mocks her. Every touch, every word, every caress…her memories are now polluted by betrayal, by deception, by the knowledge that she was used.

There's nothing you can say that I haven't already said to myself. I took a spirit into my soul and changed myself forever to achieve this.

He knows he risked everything by perpetrating this act. He knew the consequences. He was ready to face them. But while he had months, maybe even years to come to terms with this, she is forced to accept it in a matter of minutes.

She does not wholly understand his betrayal. She understood his purpose and supported him. She fought with him for everything he wished to achieve. But she never thought he would remove the opportunity for understanding.

If you're with me, we'll be hunted, hated, the whole world will be against us.

She does not fault him for being a revolutionary. She does not fault him for his desperation. She faults him for painting her world in black and white. For forcing her to live in a world where there is no compromise, where there is only fighting and misunderstanding.

She can no longer create the level playing field that is necessary for balance. He has stripped away any chance of negotiation.

I'm sorry, I can't be anyone but who I am.

She faults her own foolish pride, for thinking that what they had was important enough to rival all of this. Or at least a love that was important enough to survive it.

She almost wishes that she could love blindly; that by loving him without consequence, she would have a future with him.

But she cannot accept his actions. There is innocent blood on his hands and if she were to ignore that, it would stain her love.

You cannot claim to love me, then turn on me now.

Now she realizes, she never really knew him, at least not all of him. Justice…

He is a dichotomy. He is a healer and a murderer. His is a living, breathing man and an ethereal spirit. He is a lover and a terrorist.

You've stood by me, when I gave you every reason to turn away.

She could not kill him. She knew that others expected her to. She knew that he expected it.

But though she has spared his life, she can no longer accept his place beside her. She cannot accept him.

You are the most important thing in my life. But some things matter more than my life, more than either of us.

And so she will live in the world he has created, a world of rebellion and disorder. She will run from place to place and aid his cause. A pawn to love or moral obligation, she cannot say.

Foolishly she once told him that nothing would hurt as much as losing him. She was wrong.

She cannot blame him and she cannot forgive him. But she still loves him…