You and Abby were never official or exclusive.
You loved her and she knew that. Because only a person in love could forgive the nights she spent with Owen and the days she treated you like friends. You could forgive all of this. What you couldn’t forgive was her hunger for revenge.
Especially now that she found him, Joel Miller.
As soon as you hear the news, you look for her. You stop her in the hallway while she’s leaving.
“Abby, please. Don't go. Doing this won't bring your father back.”
She turns on you, eyes sharp. “Don't.”
But you continued. “You’re not doing this for your father anymore. You’re doing it because you don’t know who you are without it.”
That’s when it happens. She shoves you. Not enough to hurt you, but enough to make a point. You hit the wall, breath knocked from your chest. The sound echoes. So does the silence that follows.
For half a second, you think she might say something. Regret. Fear. Anything.
Instead: “Stay out of my way,” she says.
And while she leaves you can only scream: "Maybe I won't be here when you'll be back!"
She doesn't even turn.
It’s been days.
Then weeks.
When they finally come back, everyone treats it like an ending, justice done.
You stand there with the others as Abby walks back into Seattle, broader somehow, heavier in a way muscle can’t explain. Hands clap her on the shoulder. Voices praise her like she’s done what had to be done.
Abby plays her part. Short nods. Few words. No celebration.
You don’t watch her smile.
You watch her eyes.
They don’t settle. They don’t soften. They keep drifting — past faces, over shoulders — until they land on you.
That’s how you know: she killed Joel but nothing is over or fixed.
It’s late when you run into her.
Outside the base, near the steps. Abby sits there with her elbows on her knees, staring at the ground like she’s waiting for something to happen.
You stop before you realize you have.
She senses you before she sees you.
When she looks up, her expression tightens. She doesn’t say your name.
Instead, she mutters, low, almost to herself:
“You’re still here.”