A/N: Not much to say here, except that this is a little drabble I wrote one day when I felt like I couldn't write at all. I was numb, and this is what came out of that.

Feedback is love, as always.


True friends stab you in the front –Oscar Wilde


Palms sweating under black gloves, pupils dilating, as she looked wildly trying to focus on what was going on around her.

Arching tingles up and down her spine, thighs and calves as she stood frozen in a moment in time.

And goddamnit, Delta would not shut up.

With or without the AI she knew this feeling. A feeling that ruled her as much as she tried to fight it, running away when it got too close.

Trapped.

Trapped in her life, her shell, who she was and who she used to be, even who she wanted to be so long ago.

Trapped the way she was night after night as soon as she turned twelve.

Trapped in a world she didn't want to belong to.

Trapped by her own brother- knowing but not knowing, paired together in a forced synchronicity she had grown to resent more with each passing second.

Trapped by him.

And even worse, trapped by the thoughts of only person she had opened herself up to- York.

Maybe it was the mental image of York that caused her to snap. Maybe it was Wash- that fucking bastard- who left and came again, speaking to her as if they had never known each other.

Or maybe it was everything she had been raised to be and everything she had cast aside; an explosion of anger and guilt and things she couldn't even make sense of.

But seeing the hopeless situation, the knowledge that Wash, her Wash, was already hit she made her decision.

A bullet to the back- an act of self preservation and pure bitterness. He had stabbed her mentally, she merely returned the favor.

For when she was trapped the only thing she could do was escape; quicksilver pouring between the cracks of morality.

And like quicksilver- so pretty, so polished- South knew that her insides were the deepest poison.