After picking the papers up from the floor, after setting the books and pencils back in order, after settling everything just so, Sasha released a long, shaky breath. She felt disconnected, like her head was floating miles above her body and if she looked closely, she could see everything from great heights. It was a strange feeling, one she hadn't felt since shortly after returning from the Lair.

Her hands were shaking. She felt cold, clammy, disjointed. She'd done the right thing. She had to keep reminding herself of that. She'd done the right thing, and she'd done it for the right reasons. For herself, for Wash. It'd become a neverending cycle of ruthless hate and endless rage, and while she craved it, needed that release… was there ever release? Was there ever an end in sight? Or was it just a malevolently endless cycle of destruction, hurting those that cared about them without really intending to? It'd become a coping mechanism, a crutch, a way to realign her thoughts. It had felt good to allow herself to lose control around Rep, because in some sick way, she knew she could trust him. With that little piece of her, she could trust him and he wouldn't betray her.

Except… he'd shattered her in other ways. Involved other people, people who oughtn't be involved. He'd gone to the one person she trusted more than anyone else on the island. The gentlest, most patient man she'd ever met in her life. And when she'd seen that sorrow on Wash's face, that realization that she was holding back a piece of herself, the piercingly hollow thought that he might not be enough for her… she couldn't handle it. She couldn't. And so she would change - she could change, just a little, on her own - for him.

He deserved it. She would find another way to deal with the odd surges of emotions that sometimes swelled in her chest, caught her off guard - the emotions that felt as if they constantly roiled and swirled in her gut, bitter and burning and sour and destructive. There was a small part of her that hoped that music might be able to help her in the ways it had before - and an even smaller part of her wondered if she'd felt so lost simply because she'd forsaken the comfort that her flute had brought her so long ago.

She felt better when she thought about the flute, though marginally. Thinking of Wash helped even more - that solidness, that calm he had, the innate strength that he wore about him like a comfortable jacket. Sometimes she felt that even being near him made her whole, more complete than she'd been before she'd met him. Sasha knew she'd made a mess of things, but it had been difficult to find her center after all of the cataclysmic things that had happened to her. Finding out she had family, the lair, the box. The vile relationship she'd had with Rep had eased the hollowness inside of her, the darkness that had wound itself so tightly around her that she'd no longer been able to distinguish it from herself.

For a time it had been easy to keep things separate. It had been convenient. It had been safe and secret and far too easy to handle, to encourage.

Things had changed. Rep had changed the game into something that she couldn't handle. She wasn't strong, she couldn't just keep on that path of destruction while hurting Wash. She was weak. She'd lost. Rep was stronger than she was, or perhaps.. maybe he was more foolish. She didn't know.

Sasha did know one thing for certain.

She wasn't willing to lose the one good thing she had in her life. She wasn't willing to forsake her relationship with Wash in order to keep Rep close. Some things just weren't worth losing.

Sasha rose to her feet, unable to focus on much of anything. She needed fresh air, and for some reason the beach drew her. It wasn't so much the ocean as it was the comfort of the sand, the sounds of the surf, the open space, the smell of the sea. They all reminded her of the night.. well. It was a comforting place.

It didn't take her long to reach the beach, and once her feet hit the sand her shoes came off, and she made the long trek to the place where Wash had happened upon her. An hour passed as she walked, feet shifting into the loose grit of the sand. It was cold, but even the chill was refreshing enough.

Once she arrived at her destination, Sasha dropped her shoes in the sand and walked towards the surf. The water swirled around her ankles and calves. She stood in silence as the water washed against her time and time again.

A sudden scream broke the calm, feral and rough and fierce, filled to the brim with so many sorts of emotion that it was impossible to distinguish what drove the cry. Was it a sound of loss? Fury? Sadness?

Whatever the cause, whatever the reason, it did nothing to make Sasha feel better.