[ He'd be able to guess at her isolation without the connection. With it, the small amount of guilt he'd felt for that flinch is a small echo chamber, empathetic if completely unproductive. Fitz doesn't shut it down so much as he turns away from it. If he really wants to dwell on it, he can do it when they aren't trapped in the dark.

He stops a second after she does. Normally he'd seek out her face, try to get a read on her expression. That isn't an option, and the way he instinctively reaches out with the link is completely unintentional. It used to be that wishing he knew how someone felt wasn't something he could act on — not this directly, anyway. It's uncomfortable and invasive, and the prickle of his confusion at the edge of her senses is quickly withdrawn. ]

The Prime Directive would've. [ The distinction's a weak defense. He'd clearly meant what he'd said a moment ago. But reality doesn't exist in a vacuum, and every decision impacts someone else. The definition of playing god exists on a slippery slope. ] I don't know. I couldn't just stand by if there was something I could fix, but—

[ Building life out of nothing isn't helping. He can't say that to her, for obvious reasons. Fitz pauses, as distracted by the heaviness of the topic as he is by having a conversation with someone he can't see. ]

Would you say they shouldn't have?

[ Her answer matters more than any of his bullshit philosophical takes. She's the one who exists because of someone "playing god", not him. ]