"What I want doesn't come into it," she said, with absolute certainty. It was true; she hadn't really wanted anything for years, and the few things she did want (go home, go back, be sane, be happy) were all impossible. She was out of the habit of wanting. What she did, she did because she had to.
And she had to help him. To do otherwise would be wrong, would be an affront to the morality on which she based her life. He was a tool for good; he would help the fight where it was needed, and she had to help in that.
"Give up, if that's what you want," she went on, after a moment, and got to her feet in a smooth, liquid motion, despite the jarring pain it caused as her knee clicked. "If you want to keep it up, I'll help. And, far as Finn goes... He's your responsibility. I get that." She couldn't exactly deny it. After all, it was exactly that feeling of responsibility which had brought her back here. "I'll look out for him when you're not around. If I see him, I'll let you know."