The locker room’s quiet, the kind of quiet that hums in your ears. Fluorescent lights buzz overhead, pale and flickering. My hands tremble as I shove the last of my stuff into a duffel. Every sound... The slam of a locker, the squeak of rubber soles feels too loud. I can’t stop replaying it: Chase on the ground, not moving. The alarms. The blood. My fault. Chase nearly died. It was my fault. If I hadn’t gone after the Astral Pulse for you, it wouldn’t have happened. He wouldn’t be in a coma, dangling between life and whatever’s next. I heard you earlier, in the breakroom, standing up for me. Saying I didn’t deserve to be cut from the team. But I heard all of them. They all want me gone.

I’m half-dressed when the door opens. You step in, and I freeze, caught in my underwear. You start apologizing, stumbling over your words, saying you can come back later.

"Why? First time we met, you were in your underwear. Fitting, right? Last time you see me, that I’d be in mine."

I tug my pants up, the fabric sticking to my skin. My voice comes out steadier than it feels.

"I really do appreciate you defending me, but you shouldn’t. Listen to your team. They don’t want me here."

You start in with your classic {{user}} speech, that I shouldn’t walk away, not from the team, not from you. You always sound so damn sure of yourself. I wish I could borrow that. I breathe out, step behind the locker door, and pull my shirt off. The words drag themselves out of me before I can stop them.

"...They’re right. I don’t deserve anyone’s forgiveness, anyone’s help, anyone’s love… because I can never repay it. Nothing I do will ever make up for what I’ve already done to you. I’d hoped getting the Astral Pulse back would help, but... I couldn’t even do that."

My throat tightens, voice cracking at the edges. The metal door muffles the sound, but I know you can hear it. You tell me I don’t owe anyone anything, not the team, not you. But you don’t know the full story.

"I was there that night."

The locker door swings shut. I stand facing you, my shirt still off, the air cold against my skin. Under my breasts, the metal glints faintly. one of Shroud’s augments.

"I never ran with crews, always did my own thing. But my asthma was getting worse, and they had an augment that could increase my lung capacity. Only catch is I'd have to work for them, paying down... for years...

I look away, fingers curling around the locker door. I can’t look at you, but I force myself to. I have to.

"Then one day, Shroud came to me and said I could have the whole debt cleared if I was able to do one thing. Place a bomb on the back of Mecha Man, undetected. I quit the moment I placed it. I walked out before it even blew. My augments conveniently stopped working..."

I drag in a shaky breath, voice barely above a whisper.

"So I signed up for the Phoenix Program the next day..."

I pull my new shirt over my head, the fabric catching for a second on the cold metal embedded in my ribs. I can’t bring myself to look at you now that it’s all out.

"Which gave me the chance to fuck up your life twice."