"I held out hope for five years, roughly. I saw you get thrown and..." He shrugs, head tipping down, eyes on the ground. "It didn't seem real. When I kept hearing about someone still poking at the Project, making trouble? I thought it was you. I hoped."

If she found his journals she knows exactly how he felt. How hopeful he'd been. Maybe, just maybe they could've found each other again and...made shit right.

But it never happened.

"After awhile you gotta move on. It's not healthy to dwell, I mean. That's what made the project in the first damn place. Dwelling."