She witnesses her mistake march its muddy boots across his face. Out of a selfish effort to spare her own heart, she's ripped his in two. And as such, she felt the failing quite miserably. Every emotion he bared is one she knew altogether too well since she'd lost him, and it's mere instinct to rush forward and settle both of her hands firmly on his shoulders. She can feel the rough cloth of the dress greens beneath her palms.

Peggy ducks her head. She must be brave enough to look him in the eye -- because she caused this pain by telling him. She wonders whether she should have lied. Or else told the whole damn truth -- it isn't as though Barnes's death would be any less real had she expressed her true point in time.

"I know you did. I know it seems impossible. But it happened--" Will happen, in his case. "We can't go back and change the choices our friends make, as much as we wish we could. As much as we want to protect them from anything--"

Her breath catches. Her eyes are wet. Perhaps she grieves the sergeant -- but more likely she grieves for both men and their damned dignified choices.