She lies.
When questioned, when asked if she remembers, if she recalls what happened as Drusa took over her body, she responds very simply with "No."
Green Lanterns Hal and Kilowog seem happy, relieved almost, as she lies for the first (technically, the second, but she refuses to think of the first as a lie; lying implies willingness, lying implies choice, a choice that she was incapable of making at the time the words were forced out of her mouth) time, telling them that it was as if her systems were shut down from the moment they left the ship until Razer removed the offending technology. The looks on their faces confirm that she must continue to lie, to all who demand it, for the wellbeing and peace of mind of those around her.
She cannot tell them that she remembers those words spilling over, begging to land, claiming that they were injured. She cannot confide that she remembers watching as Oa, her home, is invaded because of actions that only she could complete, because of things that only she could have said.
She cannot tell them she remembers being forced to attack them, her friends, her family, she remembers watching (unable to help) as they are blasted by her.
Aya cannot confide that she understood in those final seconds before she was taken over, before she became a passenger in her own body, that the crushing revelations of what Drusa was doing to her came crashing down and she understood she was to be used as a weapon of rage and hatred.
It is impossible for her to put into words the realization that she had lost all autonomy. That she, an artificial intelligence unit, lost the ability to learn and grow and made her own decisions; instead, she was stripped of herself, stripped of the things that bonded her to her team- stripped of her will. They can never know of the last thought she had before it all happened, before her mind went like her body had gone, that she could no longer be a Green Lantern because her willpower was forcibly removed.
Aya does not tell them about the pain (because she could not have truly felt it, there was no way that she could have even known what pain feels like; she had seen it, been there as he experienced it, but she could not have. Yet there was no logical reason that she could find to explain that feeling which overtook her at the moment she knew it was over). She does not tell them of the tear that came as the knowledge poured into her, that she was enabling this destruction, that her words would cause the death of those who created her.
And so Aya lies, telling them that she does not remember, and they smile, so she assumes it must be the right thing.
They smile, and Hal squeezes her shoulder, and Kilowog pats her head before they exit. They are happy, they are reunited, they are victorious, and as far as they know, she is unharmed. As far as they know, she was absent. This makes them glad and relieved and she cannot break that, cannot destroy that peace. She cannot hurt them, not again.
Not ever again.
They smile but, she notes, he frowns and crosses his arms. He turns away. He does not seem relieved or happy or anything, and although she understands that it is not in his nature to be happy, to be relieved, this seems different.
When she lies, when she says no, it is almost as if he can hear the untruths flowing from her mouth. Like he can hear them and he disapproves (that he cannot approve of someone such as her, someone so pure, lying like this to the ones that love her more than anything), but he understands. He understands that there are some things that cannot be released, cannot be said aloud. Pains and heartbreaks and understandings that can never be expressed until the time right and that the time is never right to cause sadness.
She realizes as he walks away that he knows she is lying, that he knows she remembers. That she remembers the pain and the brokenness and the desolation, the utter hopelessness; that she remembers him stepping through the portal and freeing her.
Aya knows, as the door shuts behind him and she is alone in the cockpit, that he hears her lie but he understands, that he comprehends, why she must do this.
And that he will be there when she can no longer keep these memories- this pain, this guilt, these lies, her knowledge- inside her head. That he will be there when it becomes too much, even for her, too much to bear and withstand and keep buried. That he will be there and will not judge her for the lies that have made the others so happy, that he will not judge her for putting their feelings over her wellbeing.
She does not know how she knows, but it seems to be an unspoken agreement between them.
When she must confess, he will be there to listen.
