To my dearest Advoca,
The time has come for me to leave again, but it will likely be the last time you hear from me. I'm sorry that it had to come to an end like this, and I don't intend to hurt you with this, although I know I will. But please know that I love you. I have to leave to sort things out, because I know having someone like me to burden you with all of your responsibilities already heaped onto your shoulders will only exhaust you further. I honestly thought about asking you to come with me, only to realize just how selfish I was being in even thinking of that. I know you have your children to look after, as well as your other quadrantmates.
I'm not asking you to wait up for me, not by a longshot. I know I won't be back to win your love again, even though it pains me that I won't feel your touch or your kisses. All I'm asking is that you remember me every now and then. I know I'll be remembering you and your beautiful smile whenever I get the chance.
- Eridan Ampora
>you find the letter on your kitchen counter, thrilled to see the handwriting, thinking that he's actually remembered you. Hopefully it's a love letter or directions to meet him somewhere-- something nice. Maybe making up for your birthday. >But the more you read, the more you realise that this is not some romantic gesture. This is the exact opposite. He's gone for good, and god, does it hurt. You smile at the very end, but wipe at your eyes, trying your very hardest not to cry. You knew this would happen-- who didn't? But knowing you have lost him is pain, and there's nothing you or anyone else can do to make this fully better. >But you stand up straight and wipe your tears away, and wash your face. You have work to do and children to care for and not anyone to miss, for certain. You are a mother and a captain-- you do not have time to grieve.
