"Right," he said slowly, swallowing hard. He had said what he needed to say. He had freed himself of that and now there was only one thing he was left with. He stood, took a moment to look at her, memorise her face and the sadness in it.
"Goodbye, Terry. Tell the team it wasn't supposed to be this way, alright," he turned away from her, shoving his hands in his pockets again, feeling cold even though he was inside. There was just the weight of the gun now, the rest of him unnecessary.
He went back into the cold to get to the room he had rented. He opened the door, closed it behind him though he didn't bother with a lock and sat down on the bed. There was a long moment of just adjusting to the darkness, feeling the loneliness around him like a clawing fear. There was nothing to be afraid of there, nothing he hadn't dealt with before, but where he would normally smile and shrug it off and go to find a teammate, he only had himself and there were no smiles or jokes. Just Jamie Madrox, and Jamie Madrox wasn't really worth all the trouble.
He didn't know how long it had been in that darkness, but finally he took the gun in his hand examining it with a cold ferocity. This was worth it. This was what he wanted. He had already told himself this was what he wanted, and the strange detachment he felt to that gave him the sense that this was right. He raised he weapon slowly, pressed it to his head and held his breath, trying to stop the sick, roaring thoughts that were rushing through him.