[He feels guilty-- god, he feels guilty. It'd have been easier to let programming take over rather than have to grit his teeth and keep hurting her, but there's not enough trust in the entirety of Pandora for that. Not enough naivety in him.
So he pushes forward: picks the last shard out with his heart beating high in his chest and nausea at the back of his throat, rushes to grab the hypodermic needle he'd set aside-- bloodied fingers nearly dropping it more than once before he finally manages to jam it in. Messy work. Amateur and rushed, but it worked, at least.
Rhys wipes his hands, sucking in a breath, pulling the lines of her shirt and jacket back down to keep her warm as the wind picks up. He sits with her, waits patiently (blanket wound tight around her shoulders eventually) with his eyes trained on the distant light of Helios.
no subject
So he pushes forward: picks the last shard out with his heart beating high in his chest and nausea at the back of his throat, rushes to grab the hypodermic needle he'd set aside-- bloodied fingers nearly dropping it more than once before he finally manages to jam it in. Messy work. Amateur and rushed, but it worked, at least.
Rhys wipes his hands, sucking in a breath, pulling the lines of her shirt and jacket back down to keep her warm as the wind picks up. He sits with her, waits patiently (blanket wound tight around her shoulders eventually) with his eyes trained on the distant light of Helios.
This was all such a mistake.]