His anger is not at Fixer. Fixer didn't ask for this. His anger is at the psychopath that programmed a bunch of people to obey anyone with his genetics, tying Fixer into his batshit plans while she lay frozen underground.
Fixer is sitting against a wall, knees curled up to her chest, staring at nothing.
Shit. He breaks out of his endless loop and goes to her, kneeling down in front of her and trying to catch her gaze. She's trembling like a leaf.
"You didn't do this." Her eyes flick over to him, too wide and still mostly unfocused. "Fixer. Fixer." He lays his hands on her arms and now she's finally looking at him instead of through him. "You didn't do this."
"Didn't I?" Her voice is so high and so wracked with pain that Deacon wants to wrap his arms around her, protect her from the carnage around them. Instead he grips her arms tighter, leaning his face close to hers.
"No. You didn't. The Institute did this. High Ri - " The name catches in his throat and he has to swallow around it to speak again. "High Rise knew what running a safehouse means. Everyone in here knew the risk."
Fixer hunches over, pressing her forehead against Deacon's shoulder as a result. "I can't do this," she whispers. "I can't do this anymore."
"You can." Deacon doesn't dislodge her, lets her rest her weight against him. "You have to. Otherwise it was for nothing." She looks up at him, eyes rimmed red. "You have to finish it for them."
She stares at him for a long moment. He doesn't say anything, just meets her gaze from behind his sunglasses. Eventually she squeezes her eyes shut and takes a long, shaky breath.
"For them," she whispers.
"For them," he echoes.
She opens her eyes but keeps them focused on the ground, and Deacon swears he can see the physical weight on her shoulders, how it presses her down, tries to flatten her out.
But she lifts her head, meeting his eyes again, and there's a kind of resigned determination in them that makes his heart hurt for her while simultaneously making him so, so proud.
"Let's finish this," she says, practically through her teeth. Deacon squeezes her shoulders.
"Let's finish this."
