“You’re right Caroline. I had to leave you there.” Drake said, his voice holding steady despite his precarious situation. Tenderly, he decided to turn around to face her, slowly reorienting himself while keeping his hands up. ‘[i]Maybe that wasn’t the best way to start it off, jackass,[/i]’ the voice in his head berated him. Nevertheless, he continued on. “Because I couldn’t get to you. I’m... I’m no super-soldier, not a superhero, or a genius with a thousand tricks up his sleeve. I’m... I’m a smuggler, a pirate, a lowlife. If I’d come to rescue you, I would’ve been shot down, and that wouldn’t have been ideal for either of us.” ‘[i]Alright, cool it hotshot,[/i]’ the voice in his head continued to berate him, ‘[i]you’re trying to get her to understand, not blow off of the face.[/i]’ Drake decided to let that internal muse slide. “So I did what I thought was right,” he said, a time of desperation coming into his voice, “I ran, and tried to get the people that I knew [i]could[/i] sabe you: my crew. I was gonna bring ‘em together, and stage a rescuing attempt with them, making sure to kill that bastard Frontier General in the process.” He looked down slightly, “When Alpha told me that you’d managed to escape, I realized that... I’d made a mistake. With you at my side, those Frontier bastards wouldn’t have stood a chance. Though I had half a mind to go to the station and blow them up anyways... I had to get to you first. Set things right.” He let the last words hang in the air, a genuine feeling of regret echoing out into the woods. Drake had said everything that he’d gone there to say... and now it was her turn to accept his apology, or to turn him down.