Hayley sighs. Weary though she sounds, she's still struggling to sort through all of the thoughts and emotions racing through her mind. It seems impossible to pick one solid reason out of her mind and lay it before him to explain why she did what she did.

It will take her quite some time to realize how little it's actually his fault. That although it was his powers that killed her, it wasn't him. That the pedestal she put him on, the image of him she created in her mind, the caricature of justice she saw is all of her own making.

Although it crosses her mind, she's not ready to admit that his not being there feels like a betrayal, because that would mean admitting to relying on him in the first place. She does blame herself for being stupid and weak enough to trust him, for the vulnerability that allowed her to be killed, but this isn't about her. So she tells herself. It wasn't about hurting him. It was about making him understand.

"I already told you," she mutters, not afraid of looking like a petulant teenager right now. The girl lifts her gaze to look at him. "Why did you lie to me?"

She knows what he'll say. How he has two identities to protect the people he cares about, how people that find out get hurt. How he lost someone because the wrong people found out who he is. It's the same answer she hears time and again from every so called superhero and she disagrees with it as much now as she did the first time she heard it. The supposition that they know what's best, an assumed authority or credibility with no mind to their own faults and demons and weaknesses. It's demeaning, disgusting, and unfair.