Disclaimer: I do not own Orphan Black or any of its respective characters.

The page you pick up is in a horrid state. Its letters, written in stark black ink, run in numerous places from what appear to be blotches of water. The header has been scratched out and rewritten several times. Underneath those scratches, you can just barely make out the word Dear written beside a shakily penned name. Whoever wrote the letter obviously didn't know whether or not the recipient was deserving of that title of endearment. The page has clearly been folded and opened several times, judging by the well worn creases. In the same way, the wrinkles suggest that it has been carried around for long periods of time in a pocket. The words themselves begin strongly, penned in firm, deliberate strokes which eventually dissolve into a shaky, unstable mess of barely legible text nearing the last few lines.

I don't understand why you left me. Why you abandoned me. So I was going to do the same; to leave you with no explanation as to why I was going. Because you don't deserve this; you don't deserve to have anything to remember me by. I should just abandon you to the hurt and to the pain and to the nothingness. Without saying a single word. Just like you did to me.

But I can't do it. I can't leave you with nothing, even after the way you've treated me for the past... god, has it been four years already? Yes... I think it has been. The day you gave your heart away.. it's not an easy day to forget. Ever since you married him, you've never treated me the same way. And then you adopted kids. How could you do that to me?! You promised me, once, after a night of indescribable passion, that we would be together. That we would raise a family together.

And then you destroyed that dream. Without a single second thought to your promise. No, you did worse than that. You did give it a second thought. You used that second thought to tell me that it, our entire relationship, was just "a phase." That you couldn't stand being in a relationship with someone who was your mirror image. That you didn't want to wait around long enough to hear that we were twins separated at birth and were only just reunited in our teenage years. Because, back then, when we were both young and innocent and clearly not in love, that was the only explanation that made sense. Twins. Since neither of us had known our mothers, it was possible, was it not?

Personally, I didn't care. If that day had come, proving us to be twins, I still would've been with you. Still would've raised a family with you. Still would've love you. Not you though. That idea was apparently too repulsive for you. So repulsive, in fact, that you did everything in your power to disassociate yourself from me the moment the "phase" passed. Going as far to marry a man that you said you hated, later to adopt kids as well. You told me you never wanted kids. Was that, like our relationship, a lie as well?

Then the day came when I was contacted by a woman who claimed to be my clone. She also claimed that myself and two others, you and a scientist, were also genetically identical. You cannot imagine how excited I was when I finally processed her words. To find out that we weren't actually related. Not really, at least. That was your one major argument against us, our relationship. That we were family and couldn't be together because of that fact. And so when I found out that we were clones, I couldn't wait to tell you, hoping that you would drop all pretenses and run away with me.

You didn't. You just shrugged and said that you did care for me, but in the sisterly way that you always had. When I tried to remind you about that short-lived month of passion and intensity, you grew angry. Threatened to slam the door on me if I didn't leave your doorstep that instant. When I pleaded with you, saying the words that I hadn't dared to say since our relationship ended, that's when you acted. You have never been physically violent in all the years I've known you, but that day, while I stood on your doorstep, you shoved me. Then again, with two locked arms and an expression of twisted agony, words of frustration and pain spitting from your poisonous lips.

That was the day I never looked back.

I don't understand why you said those things or why you acted that way. We had something beautiful once, didn't we? How else could you explain the way we shared those kisses so freely under the cover of darkness? The way we built our own lives around the simplicity of being near each other? How else could you explain the way I fell so fast? And the way that you never leave my mind even now, even after so many years?

And so now, it's all driving me here. To this desk. In the middle of the night. With a pen poised as thoughts haunt my mind, leaving me an insomniac. I figure it's the least I could do for myself; to leave this letter for you to find when I'm gone. So I can at least have the satisfaction of leaving you with a guilty conscience. At least then you might finally feel something other than your apparent and ill-disguised hatred towards me. Hatred, for no other reason than the fact that I wouldn't let our love die, even though you had long since given up on it. Given up on us.

But who knows. Maybe I wont even have the guts to do it. Maybe you'll come sweep me off my feet, like you did all those years ago during our only summer together. Maybe you'll leave that perfect family you created one day and run back to me, begging for forgiveness. Maybe you'll shower me with kisses and pull me onto the bed that we once shared and make love to me so sweetly that our first time under the sun will be put to shame. Maybe...

But those are just dreams. Fantastical dreams, insane dreams. But I can only hope that they'll come true, someday. That they'll come true if I waited just a little longer for you. Just a little longer...

At the very bottom of the page, crammed into the corner in blue ink were four simple words that appeared to be more recent than the letter itself.

I waited long enough.