"Bruce," Betty interjected firmly despite the softness of her voice. "Listen to me." Before she could think to stop herself, she grabbed his chin to make him meet her stare, to see her and all her sincerity. "It is not your fault that I died. I got sick, people get sick, and I don't blame you for that." Betty continued to peer searchingly, hoping to find his understanding. She found a lot of things, and hit with this overwhelming sense of long lost familiarity, pulled away with a small tut.
"At least give me some responsibility, I earned it. I made the active choice to ignore your warnings and stick around. I was willing to take that risk, Bruce. And I don't regret it; not then, not now." With a slow shake of her head, Betty sighed. She never did like this side of Bruce. "Let it go," she encouraged, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze. "It's okay."