Nelson watches her for a moment, and then silently beckons her with a tilt of his head. Only that's not where she's supposed to go, is it? She's supposed to be going home. (She ignores the cold pit of dread in her stomach, and the way her heart feels like it's pumping her veins full of ice.)
She watches the barman disappear back inside, and hears the laughter fade. Only then does she turn to face him, a smile on her face. This is good. This is the way it's supposed to be, isn't it?
'So that's it. I help bring them here, with you. It's over.'
Hope against hope. It's been over so many times before. She's come so close to finding what she's been looking for, at first when she discovered the truth of her parents' death, and again, when Summers gave her a hint of what was really going on. Was it real, going home again? Sending Mols off to live with her father? Or was that another balm of her subconscious? It doesn't matter now.
'I've done it. I can go home, Gene.'
But the look on his face makes her smile falter. There's something wrong, and it's not just his usual petulant frown he wears when he doesn't get his own way.
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She watches the barman disappear back inside, and hears the laughter fade. Only then does she turn to face him, a smile on her face. This is good. This is the way it's supposed to be, isn't it?
'So that's it. I help bring them here, with you. It's over.'
Hope against hope. It's been over so many times before. She's come so close to finding what she's been looking for, at first when she discovered the truth of her parents' death, and again, when Summers gave her a hint of what was really going on. Was it real, going home again? Sending Mols off to live with her father? Or was that another balm of her subconscious? It doesn't matter now.
'I've done it. I can go home, Gene.'
But the look on his face makes her smile falter. There's something wrong, and it's not just his usual petulant frown he wears when he doesn't get his own way.