[ ronnie takes back his hand when hartley pulls his arm away, lifts them both in defense, surrender. a fight isn't what he wants, and with hartley, it's always best to tread carefully. he knows hartley could still push his buttons if he wanted to -- he's trying, but it's been too long, and maybe ronnie's buttons are just a little rusty. there's no point to fighting with each other, anyway, not when they've always been a better team with their heads put together. then again, maybe that's just another thing that's changed over the year ronnie can hardly remember. maybe he and hartley don't fit together as well as they used to, a well-oiled machine. maybe that all exploded with the rest of the accelerator. ]
[ maybe ... ]
[ well, it's not so much a maybe anymore, hartley being right, just as he usually is. (the only thing he miscalculated was cisco, the one person who's always been able to get under hartley's skin like no one else. it would probably be better if cisco weren't here, for both their sakes.) it stings, of course, the realization -- the stark, honest truth that ronnie ultimately caused his own death because he didn't listen when hartley tried to warn him, instead chose to wave him off like everyone else at star labs was prone to do. ronnie was supposed to be the one person who didn't, but -- well, here they are now, face to face again in a hallway not too different from the cortex, from the pipeline itself, and as much as ronnie is glad to see hartley, there's a guilt that settles in his stomach he knows he deserves. ]
[ his hands drop to his sides, physically resisting the urge to set them on hartley's shoulders. ] Hartley. [ it's almost like an apology itself, hartley's name in a softer tone, in a way that says please don't do this. ] I'm sorry, alright? [ and maybe it doesn't mean much now, but it's not something ronnie can leave unspoken between them. ] I should've -- [ trusted you, he thinks, diverting his gaze, brows creasing just slightly -- but he can't bring himself to say it. maybe that's the root of this whole problem, the simple fact that ronnie's refusal to listen meant he didn't trust hartley's judgment. but, then, at the time, ronnie had thought hartley hadn't trusted ronnie's ability to do his job. he should have known better, known hartley better than to think that. ]
[ he lifts his gaze, wringing his hands as he does when he's nervous, anxious. the corners of his mouth pull into a small, defeated, apologetic smile. ] I should've tried to stop it. You were right. Like always.
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[ maybe ... ]
[ well, it's not so much a maybe anymore, hartley being right, just as he usually is. (the only thing he miscalculated was cisco, the one person who's always been able to get under hartley's skin like no one else. it would probably be better if cisco weren't here, for both their sakes.) it stings, of course, the realization -- the stark, honest truth that ronnie ultimately caused his own death because he didn't listen when hartley tried to warn him, instead chose to wave him off like everyone else at star labs was prone to do. ronnie was supposed to be the one person who didn't, but -- well, here they are now, face to face again in a hallway not too different from the cortex, from the pipeline itself, and as much as ronnie is glad to see hartley, there's a guilt that settles in his stomach he knows he deserves. ]
[ his hands drop to his sides, physically resisting the urge to set them on hartley's shoulders. ] Hartley. [ it's almost like an apology itself, hartley's name in a softer tone, in a way that says please don't do this. ] I'm sorry, alright? [ and maybe it doesn't mean much now, but it's not something ronnie can leave unspoken between them. ] I should've -- [ trusted you, he thinks, diverting his gaze, brows creasing just slightly -- but he can't bring himself to say it. maybe that's the root of this whole problem, the simple fact that ronnie's refusal to listen meant he didn't trust hartley's judgment. but, then, at the time, ronnie had thought hartley hadn't trusted ronnie's ability to do his job. he should have known better, known hartley better than to think that. ]
[ he lifts his gaze, wringing his hands as he does when he's nervous, anxious. the corners of his mouth pull into a small, defeated, apologetic smile. ] I should've tried to stop it. You were right. Like always.