South goes a little paler in the face, her eyes widening again with a kind of horror, this time, as she's forced to see the consequences of the choice she made that day. The press of a trigger, a quick burst of fire, that changed everything for Washington in a way she had no comprehension of whatsoever until now.

"...fuck," she groans, dragging her hands over her face. A few tears apparently escaped at some point in this whole mess and she wipes the wetness away as best she can. "I— fuck. I never..."

She thought he'd die and yeah, that's fucked up, she knows that now, she knows full well that shooting an old teammate in the back and leaving him for dead to save her own skin was a shitty fucking thing to do, but the fact he survived it makes it worse, doesn't it? The fact he had to live with it?

She fucking broke the man. One final blow to someone already damaged.

Apologising to Washington outright is still beyond her, even in a moment like this, but she can't quite hide the look in her eyes. "...I'm trying not to be— her. I don't— want to be her. I fucking swear it."

The problem is figuring out what she is, who she is, when she isn't.