She cries like a kid who hasn't cried in a long time, like someone who has held on tight to sadness and anger until it's become a hot stone in her belly weighing her down. This has been a long time coming, and maybe he's not the one who should be taking care of her -- he has a feeling he knows who that ought to be -- but he's the one that's there and he knows how important that is.

So Logan holds her, fingers spread between her shoulders, feeling her tears soak into his clothes. Lets her get it out, and when she's done, lets her pull away as much as she needs to.

Ellie moving back makes him raise his eyes a little and he catches sight of a cluster of crystals over her shoulder, each a few inches wide and eerily reflective. Except it's not his face looking back at him over Ellie's shoulder, but a woman in pink silk with flowers caught up in her hair, as real as if she was standing there instead.

Ellie's words filter through to him, distantly, so for a second he wonders if he thought them himself.

He tears his gaze away from Mariko's face and blinks at Ellie, then glances back at the crystal the kid was looking at. The girl in the reflection looks sweet and kind, the blood and wounds on her telling of a difficult end. The bite marks on her hand, and what Ellie had said before about her world being infected, her fear of his being contaminated -- it falls into place in his head.

Killed her. Oh, Ellie.

Logan keeps one hand on her shoulder and reaches for the words he's said so often to himself, forcing himself to ignore Mariko's eyes searching for his. Instead, he fixes his gaze on Ellie's, on what he knows is real.

"You did what you needed to do, kid. Whatever happened.. you did what you had to."