"C'mon, sis, the least we could do is hear the man out."

Thea spun around, radiating fury. "'The least we could do'? When was the last time he ever did the least he could for anyone?"

Scott shrugged, exhaustion evident in the lines of his face. "We've got to start somewhere, Thea. He's our only parent left."

"That doesn't give him the right to suddenly act like a father, Scott, and you know it! He spent most of our lives ignoring our existence! It doesn't strike you as strange that he's reaching out now?"

Scott sighed and took a seat on her desk, taking care to keep her pile of datapads from sliding off. "Maybe it's because we're all he's got left, too." His glossy violet eyes met hers. "He's only human, you know."

Thea scoffed and plopped down onto her bed. She was so tired of being angry but after her mother's death, it seemed that anger was all she could feel. She took a shaky breath and stared blankly at the ceiling of her cramped studio apartment, all fight draining out of her.

"It's just..." Her voice shuddered and cracked. "I'm so tired, Scott. I'm just so tired." She draped her right arm over her eyes, hiding the tears.

She felt the bed dip beside her and the weight of her brother's hand as he gently pulled her arm from her face. She kept her eyes locked on the ceiling, afraid of the judgment she might see in Scott's eyes.

After all, Alec Ryder didn't like tears, and Scott had always tried to emulate him.

She braced herself for Scott's disappointment. But it never came. Instead, he laid down beside her and took her hand into his own, giving her a comforting squeeze.

"I can't and won't force you to go, Thea. Just know that if you do go, I'll be there with you every step of the way. I promise."

Despite his words, Thea knew she didn't have much of a choice. It was either her brother or her career, and she hadn't the strength to lose another family member quite so soon after her mother's death.

She blinked out the remainder of her tears and nodded. "Okay," she croaked. "I'll go."

In the Hyperion medbay some 634 years later, she watched the steady rise and fall of his chest, her breath hitched in irrational fear that it would just stop at any given moment. Her hands gripped the bedsheet he peacefully slept on, her face devoid of emotion. Her voice, however, betrayed any outward portrayal of calm.

"You liar."