I pressed the button on my radio, disconnecting the call. The familiar buzz of the line went quiet, and I sat back, my head in my hands.

I could hear the muffled noise of the others in the adjoining room. They were, of course, standing around and talking. It was as if my months away hadn't changed them at all—it mirrored the day I had first stepped foot on the gentle, peaceful grass in Blood Gulch.

So much had happened in that time. I couldn't decide whether it felt more like a few hours or a few decades. We had gone from sneaking to off-planet bars to throwing the Director in jail to battling the most complex forms of technology available. I didn't even want to think of what I was leaving or where I was headed. I seemed stuck, suspended in a vacuum, unable to rip myself away from these silly troopers but unable to stop my absence from occurring.

When I could finally bring myself to open the door again, the Blood Gulchers fell silent.

I could barely bring myself to form words. I opened my mouth.

"Church… you're going to be fine." I paused. "I'll explain later. I have to—I have to go get ready."

I started walking down the hall. I needed this time. I needed to think.

"Let her go," I heard Sarge say in response to a rustle. I didn't know who had moved to trail me.

I reached the small air hangar in the mastership, where a variety of Alien travel pods were lined up. I picked a relatively simple-looking one and began examining it.

The outside was black and sleek and shaped like a flattened oval. Smooth wings tapered from each side, and, aside from a few scratches and some dust, they seemed to be intact. I hunted around for the keys for a while and found them hanging on the nearby wall on a panel near hundreds of other keys. I recognized it by the matching smooth black and the Alien symbols that matched the flank of the ship.

After a little experimentation, I clicked a button on the side of the keys and the roof of the cockpit popped open, exposing the one-Alien flight control desk inside, which was technically big enough for two humans. It would suit my needs.

I frowned, looking all around the ship, unsure how I was supposed to get inside. The Aliens were so huge they could just jump lightly and land right in the cockpit. Gripping the side of the pod, I hoisted myself up to take a peek inside the cockpit, but it was so smooth my hands just slid off and I landed back on the ground.

Climbing obviously wasn't going to work. With a huge leap, I gripped the edge of the open cockpit and tried to lift myself into the pod, but my fingers were too slippery and my boots dragged against the side of the pod, useless. I was just dangling there like an idiot.

"Looks like you need a hand."

I jumped and almost let go of the ship, catching myself at the last moment. These damned Freelancers and their stealth.

Wash walked forward and stood beneath me, beckoning me to stand on him. I sighed and placed my feet on his shoulders, easily pulling myself into the cockpit.

"How's it look?"

"Uh…" I sat down and looked at the controls. Inserting the key into the dashboard, all the keys lit up and began flashing. "I think it's fine."

"How can you be sure?" he called. "Have you ever flown this kind of aircraft before?"

I rolled my eyes, clicking through all the controls. True, I couldn't read any of the signs or labels, but it was set up like a basic human plane.

"Why are you so worried?"

Wash didn't answer. "Well. I guess you'll be fine." He opened his mouth, closed it again, and then turned away, walking toward the exit to the hangar.

"Wash!" I threw my helmet over the side of the cockpit and then jumped down myself, grunting with the landing. "Wait, don't just—just leave like that."

Wash seemed to be regretting his decision to follow me to the hangar. "No, I really think it's best if I—"

"You didn't come here just to hoist me into that travel pod," I said. "Listen, I don't know when I'm going to see you again after this, so let's just—just—figure things out."

I half expected Wash to shut down and stalk away again, but he paused and sighed, taking off his own helmet as well.

"I don't really do... emotional… things."

I was quiet. I wasn't going to respond until he had said his part.

"And you already know how I feel. About us. I'm not going to say it again."

"But you completely shut down again after I came back from having Gamma," I pointed out.

"Because of the guilt!" Wash balled his hand into a fist. "When you woke up, you were terrified—terrified of me! It reminded me exactly of what I did. No matter how hard I try, I'll never be able to forget that. Ever!"

I stopped, blinking.

He was right.

Of course he was right. No amount of talking—no amount of communication or time or effort would ever allow him to forget what he had done. What had happened to us.

There was just one way we could finally, finally get over this. I had the power to get rid of the one thing that constantly kept reminding him of his own past. So. There was just one thing to remove from his life.

Me.

"No…" I said slowly. "You won't."

"What?"

"You'll never forget it. Not as long as I'm around."

Wash looked up. "That's not what I meant."

"Then what did you mean, Washington?" I said heatedly. "Are we just going to continue this awful cycle? First we're fine, and then you remember, then we argue, then you're distant again. Then you feel guilty for being rude, we're fine again, rinse, repeat. How can we keep going like this?"

"Eleven—"

"You said it yourself. You won't forget. So it's good that I'm leaving. You won't have me around as a reminder."

"Eleven—"

"As long as I follow my orders and stay away, you'll have the Reds and Blues as a distraction. You won't need me anymore. When you're cleared to leave Blood Gulch, you'll go home. Continue working with the UNSC. Find a girl to settle down with—find someone who deserves you."

"Eleven!"

Wash grabbed my shoulders.

"I said it before. You already know how I feel. I've admitted it far more than I should have. And I know—or at least I hope to God—that our reunion in that Blood Gulch cave wasn't nothing to you. I've needed you ever since you stepped foot at Project Freelancer. You know this. I know it hasn't been easy. I know I've messed up, and I know I've turned you away. Now, just tell me—just tell me straight, Eleven—I need to know how you feel. Because you've pushed me away for so long I can't tell what's real and what isn't anymore."

This was it. This was the moment. Just as Donut had predicted... I had to make a choice.

My heart pounded. I could just… I could do it. I could give in. I stared into the same eyes I had so many years ago in the Mother of Invention—the very same face I had planned to wake up to for the rest of my life.

It would be so easy. Tell the truth. I could just say it and be happy and carry out the plans that we had made.

…And when would be the next time I woke up in a cold sweat, clutching at my ribs and screaming because of a nightmare?

He would remember. He would feel guilty. And we would fight.

I couldn't put him through that. Not again.

Never again.

My eyes became wet, and I looked down. This was the end.

"I don't—" My voice cracked, and Wash's eyes widened in horror. "I don't—I don't think I can—" I shuddered and a tear trickled down my cheek. Just say it. Say it fast. Tell him you don't feel the same way.

The words tumbled from my mouth before my mind could stop them.

"I love you."