Lexa still couldn't force herself to move. Moving meant action. It meant decisions. And she wasn't ready for those. She scoffed and rolled her eyes at Jack's comment, but it wasn't much of a distraction from the messy cluster of thoughts buzzing in her head.

What was she going to do about Jack? She could've just let him die but instead she'd saved him (well, [i]Tyrell[/i] had saved him… and that was a whole other mess to deal with now). And now, because of her, he'd be able to kill and hurt innocent people again. All of those lives, everything he did – it'd be on her shoulders, now. The logical option was to hand him over to the authorities, but what jail could possibly hold him with his powers?

And Ty knew about her. She'd brought him into this, [i]used[/i] him and he deserved more than that. He deserved answers. He deserved [i]safety[/i]. Lexa didn't know how to ensure that. 

But the question that consumed her most of all: had Shirley been telling the truth about her powers? Was she part of the same twisted experiment that had made Jack all he was? A part of her knew it made sense. She remembered the piercing, searing pain from 9's power, how it'd felt too real to be an illusion. What if… what if it [i]hadn't[/i] been? She remembered the feral intensity of her hate, her anger, her [i]fear[/i] afterwards. Was that… was that who she would've been if she hadn't escaped? Was that who she [i]was[/i]?

Lexa closed her eyes and wished she could just sleep through this nightmare.

[color=crimson]"So that Shirley guy's a prick. I see why you want to kill him."[/color] Her conversational tone was at odds with how her broken voice rasped and tripped over the words.