And with that the pretense of controlled civility was gone entirely. Nathan stared at her a moment in disbelief, as though trying to process what she'd just said to him. Of all the things he'd expected or perhaps just hoped she'd say, that wasn't it at all. The problem was that he still had hope, buried under the layers of anger and resentment and pain, but she was testing that small hope more and more each time she spoke.
"So?" he finally spat out. "So what if it wasn't supposed to happen? It did Ma, in his timeline, and that timeline was nearly ours too. And don't stand there and tell me you couldn't see some of this coming. I sure as hell don't think that. Or maybe you didn't, in which case you need to open your eyes and finally face what we nearly did to the Peter in our own time, even if you'd like to absolve yourself of any responsibility for that Peter's," he pointed toward the stairs, "timeline."