There it was, then: the emotions he'd been expecting to feel. There was the guilt. There was the pain again too, though different this time. He took no satisfaction from what he saw in her eyes; no comfort; no joy; no solace. Instead, every possible dark emotion descended on him like a wave, and he had to throw out an arm to steady himself against a bulkhead, just to stop from drowning.

What hurt the most was the blatant point towards his betrayal. That's what it was, pure and simple: he'd betrayed what shred of trust he'd managed to cling on to, and recover from their childhood. He'd betrayed the trust she'd placed in him, sharing her pain and loss with him. He'd betrayed her confidence. Betrayed his sister. There was no lower ebb to which he could sink.

He didn't even remember walking back to the quarters that Dalgas had allocated for him. Didn't remember stripping off his shreaded shirt; tossing it aside into a corner to be trashed, or burned, or whatever. He didn't remember much from the hours he lay there, wallowing in the black pit he'd tumbled into. All that occupied his mind was her eyes; her words; playing over and over again, mocking and taunting. In trying to free his mind from the haunting memory of the one he'd loved and lost, he'd replaced it with a much more harrowing vision of the one person in the galaxy he cared about more.

There's nothing I can do, he realised. It was too late. They were broken.

'Of all the people I expected to lie to my face when I needed any sort of support - never thought it'd be you.'

Her words echoed in his head. She was right: he'd made a lie of everything he'd said to her or not. She'd never forgive him. Never speak to him again. But if there was one thing he could do, it was provide her with the truth.

The datapad emerged from beneath his pillow, stowed there in preparation for midnight flashes of inspiration and genius. Now however its words were far less clinical; far less harsh; less heartless. It began with a simple admission, and all that entailed.


You were right, Charlotte. I lied.

Maybe not the way you think I did; but a lie of omission is still a lie of a kind. I told you that Laura left me: what I didn't tell you was how badly it broke me inside. I know compared to your loss it must seem like nothing: but I was never the strong one. That was always you. With Laura, I poured every ounce of my soul into loving her: when she left, my universe collapsed. My life collapsed. I envy you sometimes, running off to your Rebellion when you did. At least when you lost the people you loved, you still had a cause to hang on to. But me? Never had your passion. Never had your conviction.

Yesterday was our anniversary. She's been haunting my mind ever since. I see her face behind my eyes every blink; hear her voice inside my mind. Every memory, every whisper, every loving word and caring tone has turned to bitterness, haunting me and taunting me. My heart has turned to dust; I thought, just maybe, I could overwrite some of those memories with new ones. I haven't been, you know, with a woman, since it happened. I thought maybe if I did, it'd help me move on.

It didn't. I was wrong. And I picked the wrong person. I knew it would hurt you. I did it anyway.

Problem is, it goes deeper than that. I don't mourn the loss of her: she showed that she wasn't the same woman I loved when she did what she did. I miss the life. Miss the dream. Miss who I was when I was with her; who I was going to be when we spent our lives together.

I miss the son that will never be, because she- she made him go away.

I don't expect forgiveness. I know I'm too far beyond that now. I have betrayed you, and don't deserve your trust any longer. I just wanted to be as honest as it was possible to be; wanted to end the lies.

I love you, sis. I'm sorry.


Her quarters were empty by the time he arrived. Someone told him that she'd been called up for a special assignment. Bad frakking timing, but hey. The Rebellion was what it was; didn't hang around for personal bullshit. You couldn't take a personal day from trying to overthrow galactic tyranny, right?

The lock was easy to bypass; took seconds. The room was exactly the state of mess he'd expected; same as it had been back on Corellia. That notion left him mournful: he decided it best not to linger.

You can read this when you get back, he thought to himself as he set the datapad gently down on her pillow. And frak Lottie: don't go dying before I get to tell you the truth.