They don't address it.

The elephant in the room is big enough to bend over double, but they don't address it. Betty and Kate and Gladys have their reunion and two of them ignore all the signs; the lingering glances, the fear of contact. (Gladys doesn't ignore anything but she does keep her mouth shut. She's a good friend.)

For her own part, Betty realizes the thin veneer of the charade she had been playing, and plans to let Ivan down gently. She said herself that girls being with girls is disgusting and deviant behaviour; not the most convincing performance, but she said it.

So why is it that as soon as she caught that first glimpse of Kate, she knew she couldn't go on another date with some factory boy? She heard that voice and she saw her face and she knew—she would fight for Kate, whatever it took, whoever would stand beside her, however many times she was knocked down.

And she feels like a fool for it, being so devoted to someone who... who doesn't return those feelings. That's not quite true, though; Kate has always been devoted to Betty. It's the other that she denounces so fiercely.

But she came home with Betty, and that's all that matters right now. If she is willing to be in the same room, if she will speak to her and be her friend, Betty will accept that gladly.

When she contrasts in her head the time she spent with Ivan, in a supposedly romantic setting, and all of the many hours she's spent with Kate that were nothing more than platonic, it's absurd. She knew it, but she had to try.

She won't try anymore. Like Gladys said, she's not that kind of girl. Not the kind of girl who accepts a date with a factory boy. Not the type of girl who goes on dates with boys at all. If that means not dating—she's done it this far, what does it even matter now?

But there's a part of her. A small, scared, hidden part of her that hopes. Kate might love her back. She might. Maybe she just doesn't realize it yet.

There's a knock at the door and Kate pokes her head in. "Are you sleeping? Can I come in?"

Since she's been lying in bed ruminating over all the things she couldn't say to Kate, she can't say no. She waves Kate in and sits up in bed.

Kate comes to sit on the edge of the bed. For a moment she just sits there. Then she says, looking at her knees, "I've spent so much of my life scared. At some point I learned to bury the fear and just do what was asked. When I came here, some of the fear went away. I was afraid of being discovered, but I also loved my new life and the... people in it. When he took me away again... it was worse than ever before. I was alone with him all the time. I never got to see my family. And I missed my life here second-most of all."

She looks up cautiously to meet Betty's eyes. "Betty, I've been scared almost my whole life. But I swear on God's name, I have never been so terrified as when I thought he was going to hurt you tonight. I couldn't let him do it; I had to stop him, whatever it took. Do you understand?"

Whatever it takes, thinks Betty. Out loud, she says, "Yes, I understand." She doesn't feel she has anything else to say. It's obvious that Betty would do the same; she has.

But Kate is not finished. Looking straight into Betty's eyes, Kate says, "I'm not afraid anymore, Betty." She pauses. "I'm not afraid." And with that, she leaves the room.

Betty is rendered slightly gobsmacked. Kate's parting words sounded like something else entirely. A concession? An invitation? Or perhaps just a statement of facts, a clarification for the future.

Kate saved Betty's life tonight. Now she has to decide what to do with it.