At length, Peter settled her enough so that she could cry. Evey didn't usually do that sort of thing, especially lately, but Aidan's situation by necessity had chipped her out of the ice she'd encased herself in - and now she was frostbitten and hurting. She didn't want this; she'd been trying very hard to avoid this. Regardless of what she wanted, this is where she was now.
And she wasn't alone. She had forgotten. She'd forgotten this, in her self-imposed exile. As Peter kept singing, she grew quieter and quieter, until she only sniffled now and again, face still against his shirt, hands still holding to him - but more loosely now.
Peter didn't want to kill Aidan. That was the first thing she knew. She didn't have to protect Aidan from Peter; that was the second. And Peter had always been here for her, even when she hadn't been able to see it. That was the third.
Evey sighed. It was a clean sound. "I'm sorry," she said - not for crying on him or for losing her mind, but for keeping him out of hers for so long. She'd hurt herself from it, when she thought she was being strong - but more importantly, she'd hurt Peter, too. "I'm so sorry."