There is a long moment after his admission where she can't breathe. All she can do is cling to him in the darkness. After everything they've been through, after all the lies... Yes he forgot. Yes he never meant to keep her from going home, at least not consciously.

Did she expect, after he told her to go, that he'd changed somehow?

Yes, she supposes she did. Another wave of tears rises in her throat, disappointment and anger warring for supremacy.

'I can't do this again. I'm too tired to fight anymore. All I want to do is help. That's all I've ever wanted to do is help. Every time I turned around, in my living room, in Luigi's, in CID, in the archives...'

She can't shake the image of his face torn apart by that shotgun blast. And in his one good eye, such sorrow.

'And the whole time I was lying in a hospital bed. Or was that even real? How do I know that Molly even knows what happened to me? How do I know I'm not still lying in the hull of that barge?'

Her words grow increasingly unintelligible as the pitch of her voice rises. Here in the dark, with his arms wrapped around, a part of her reverts to that scared little girl flailing for answers, when there aren't any. Sometimes the people you love are monsters and no amount of psychology or reason can change that.