Firefly Glen count your blessings not your flaws

She scowled as a light faded and her teeth clacked, coming up empty again. A low growl rolled from her, like the slow arrival of an impending thunderstorm, rumbling—until there was a voice. Hydra was alert at once, her ears twisting toward the source of the sound even as her body turned to do the same. His voice had changed, and so had he—but the male before her was distinctly the male she had longed for, and all the threats and the resentment and the aggravation left her as she saw him. It was one of those inexplicable things. She did not understand it—she was one to hold grudges. And she was not one to forget. 

She remembered that much. She remembered her hurt, and she acted upon that, first. She answered his question without doing so at all, You made me a promise, Hydra reminded him, you—you left. You didn't say goodbye, There was no anger in her tone, though once she had been that. Seeing him here and now only brought her confusion, and that very, very interesting thread of longing, an unnameable thing to her.... why? she asked at last, unwilling to look away from him lest he disappear as he had the last time. Hydra recognized she did not want this to happen, but could not for the life of her register why.