Geneva's brow furrowed as she fought to keep her voice even. When she spoke again, her words had a raw edge to them, but she was better able to make her tone even and calm. She did not want to unncessarily upset Pripyat. This had not been the first meeting she had imagined between them. "I ran here, for you, before he was born," she said, her voice lower than usual. She tried to disguise the hurt, the old feelings of fear and rejection that had resurfaced, but she was unable to mask them. "And when I couldn't get any further, I called for you. I tried. And you never came."
The Whilom narrowed her eyes. "You are ridiculous," she said. "Utterly ridiculous." He had regressed. They had regressed as they had grown apart. It seemed that they had lost parts of themselves to each other, or had forgotten some of those vital things that made them good, both together and apart. Jefferson said that he wanted to be left alone again. She did not know if that was what he truly wanted, or if that was from some anger, some hurt that she had put upon him.
"Who else could he belong to?" Geneva challenged, unwilling as always to let him walk away with the last word. Some of the passion that had been absent from her voice in months before had returned. Pripyat was quiet, wide-eyed and wary as he watched this exchange. "I know that things between us have deteriorated, and I am not asking you to forgive me right now...But I've never told you an untruth intentionally."