Work Text:
The old me, the one that hadn’t been held in your arms as she crumbled to dust outside the Queen’s Head pub, wouldn’t have put up with the way you have been behaving since Helen died.
No; she would have given up the first time you pushed her away, probably muttering more than a few colourful swear words as she did.
But I’m not that Barbara Havers.
The me I am now, she recognises your actions for what they are.
Self-flagellation.
You blame yourself for bringing Helen in on the case, for not searching Nina to be sure that she had disposed of the gun as she stated. You think you need to fester in misery, to be punished for your sins, and maybe you do, but that isn’t going to change things or bring her back.
So, I’m going to keep reaching out to you, no matter how many times you push me away. Because you need me, you just don’t think you deserve me.