[ She remains composed as he says it, the thing she had wanted him never to know — I died — but her hands ball and tighten at the rejection of blame. Of course he would say that. Does she believe it? Not any more than she did back then, uncertain and hurt and wanting to believe in Khaji Da and wanting to believe in justice as more than a veil worn by revenge.
But that version of Khaji Da doesn't exist in this world any more, and neither does that Jaime. The relationship those two had, the nuances of it — that was unique to them, just as the subtleties of this Jaime and his scarab are unique to them, standing before her.
Knowledge changes things. And even if Khaji Da had made the wrong conclusion, there's no one else who can explain what happened. ]
... It's close to the truth, [ said quiet, her attention still not on Jaime's face, ] but it's... it's not the reality of it. It wouldn't have gone on for as long as it did if that's all it was.
I'll tell you what happened, but, I never got all the details, in the end. I don't know if Jaime got them all, either. We didn't talk about it, afterwards. [ Her lips flicker in a smile, struggling for traction. ] Just because I knew he was the Blue Beetle doesn't mean Jaime ever really talked about what it meant, with me. That's not the kind of friends we were.
... Anyway. It's... it's not that he died. He didn't, completely. [ She takes a breath, deep and audible, and after that pause, she finally finds her footing, speaking deliberately. ] Two civilians were in a public square when they were shot in unidentified gunfire. One was a regular person; the other was Jaime. She died; he didn't. ... He was shot in the head. He was hospitalized.
... The scarab fixed everything he could. Kept his organs from shutting down while he repaired the tissue, but when it was all said and done, his body was perfectly fine, but it wasn't enough. [ She pauses. ] When we talked about it, Khaji Da said that he couldn't detect any independent brain activity. He was alive, but the part that made him Jaime was gone.
[ The reality of it was much worse, because they were holding onto hope. ]
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But that version of Khaji Da doesn't exist in this world any more, and neither does that Jaime. The relationship those two had, the nuances of it — that was unique to them, just as the subtleties of this Jaime and his scarab are unique to them, standing before her.
Knowledge changes things. And even if Khaji Da had made the wrong conclusion, there's no one else who can explain what happened. ]
... It's close to the truth, [ said quiet, her attention still not on Jaime's face, ] but it's... it's not the reality of it. It wouldn't have gone on for as long as it did if that's all it was.
I'll tell you what happened, but, I never got all the details, in the end. I don't know if Jaime got them all, either. We didn't talk about it, afterwards. [ Her lips flicker in a smile, struggling for traction. ] Just because I knew he was the Blue Beetle doesn't mean Jaime ever really talked about what it meant, with me. That's not the kind of friends we were.
... Anyway. It's... it's not that he died. He didn't, completely. [ She takes a breath, deep and audible, and after that pause, she finally finds her footing, speaking deliberately. ] Two civilians were in a public square when they were shot in unidentified gunfire. One was a regular person; the other was Jaime. She died; he didn't. ... He was shot in the head. He was hospitalized.
... The scarab fixed everything he could. Kept his organs from shutting down while he repaired the tissue, but when it was all said and done, his body was perfectly fine, but it wasn't enough. [ She pauses. ] When we talked about it, Khaji Da said that he couldn't detect any independent brain activity. He was alive, but the part that made him Jaime was gone.
[ The reality of it was much worse, because they were holding onto hope. ]