Amon stood at the glass, watching. He was silent for some time, focused on the rise and fall of her chest, the measured beats of the machines that monitored and sustained her.
He'd known, even without the bruises to remind him, that he was entirely to blame for this. It was his inaction, his indecision that brought the Hunt to her doorstep and reduced this beautiful, vibrant woman to a shell.
He'd thought to avoid this, to protect her and had said his goodbyes. Now he was back with apologies, and the problem at the root of it all still remained. Saving Robin, bringing her to Raven's Flat, simply put the STN-J in direct opposition to Headquarters.
Amon stood at the glass, watching then he gave his apology and turned away. The battle was coming and he had a decision to make.