2/2
Danny spoke, bringing Becker's attention to him, and his reluctance to speak grew. Danny wasn't oblivious to the mood, and Becker was hardly being subtle about the significance of the news, so it was no surprise that he'd picked up on the nature of it. He knew Danny and Sarah had been close; hell Sarah had been close with all three of them. Closer to them than she was to him, and yet he was the one who'd got her killed.
The pain of her death washed over him, raw and hurting and for a moment he closed his eyes, readying himself to face up to his failures and admit to them. He'd told people before; reported the news to Lester after bringing her body back through the anomaly, broke the news to Jess and Matt when the pain of it was tearing him up inside so badly they'd started to notice. But this was different. Lester was...Lester, and Jess and Matt had never known Sarah, not personally. Abby, Connor, Danny, they'd been friends with her. Their judgement on this was the only thing that mattered.
He swallowed roughly when Connor said her name, forcing his eyes open. He stared into each of their eyes in turn, finding himself locking eyes with Danny last and not having the strength to move his gaze. Becker took a deep breath and let it out slowly.
"That's what I needed to tell you," he began quietly, afraid to look at them but afraid to look away. His shoulders felt heavy, the weight of his guilt pressing down on him so strongly it was nearly physical, and the emotional turmoil of reliving that day exhausted him. After a long moment, he continued. "We sent missions through looking for you," No, he couldn't pin the blame on them. This one was all him. "After three failed attempts, Sarah was getting restless. She wanted to help." He swallowed, looked away and then forced himself to look back. "And I...let her." He bit back from telling them that Lester also authorised it. His fault. The blame was his and his alone.
"She didn't make it." He looked away then, he had to, because his eyes felt wet and he wouldn't cry in front of them. He couldn't. He hung his head, shoulders drooping as some of the guilt lifted from him for getting the words out. The last sentence was a sigh he hardly heard for himself. "It was my fault. I never should have let her go. I'm sorry." His voice broke on the last word.