"I'm sorry," he blurts out in a choked sob, gripping tighter into her clothes. All the things he wanted to say if he saw her again came gushing to the surface like an overfilled drain. He wanted to scream at her for making them both accept their fates down there, for making him make peace with God, and Foggy and Karen and the people he's just met that he'll never see again, for damning his soul while he held her in his arms as that thunderous roar of Midland Circle came rushing down on them. He wanted to punch her. Shake her violently. Wanted to demand why she killed that toxic father figure they shared, the man who raised him and made his stomach twist when he made Matthew feel like his own son, why she would stoop to his level instead of rising above the pain and giving him the forgiveness he never deserved.

But above all those pent up frustrations, he wanted to hold her. And just.

Listen to that silence.

He's loved someone. And he's let her go. And she came back and tried to kill him. He knows she's his.