Daniel,

No matter what, remember I will always love you.

Mother.

Sacrifices. No matter how many times Eloise spoke that very word it had never before felt so real. She'd just seen Daniel off — from afar of course. She watched as her son boarded the freighter, going off to do great research, going off to heal. Going to die.

There had been several years when Eloise had nearly convinced herself that the man she had shot all those years ago was surely not her Daniel. But then she watched helplessly as the young boy grew into that face that haunted the crevices of Eloise's mind. Her hand, now wrinkled, would be the one to close Daniel's eyes for the last time. It was, of course, inevitable. Or was it?

To an outside observer, Eloise was sending her son to the grave, pulling the trigger in more than just the metaphorical sense. She had pushed him and pushed him — replaced a piano with textbooks, exchanging one set of scales for another. Long ago, she had resigned herself to make her Daniel great. And, oh how he was! The youngest man to ever receive his doctorate from Oxford University. She'd been so proud. Unfortunately, he had never quite learned to see past Eloise's mask and still, she was the bad guy. But really it was more than just that. Eloise was also a fool. Because for longer than Daniel was alive, she held on to an impossible hope.

The hydrogen bomb.

Maybe time was always fixed and whatever Jack Shephard and Ms. Austen would do yielded no results. Or maybe this was just the original timeline. And that was why Eloise pushed and pushed. Because she wasn't sending Daniel to his death, she was sending her son — her only son — to save himself.

And that was what allowed Eloise to turn away from the crowding freighter. And that was what allowed Eloise to let go of the only thing she had ever truly, truly loved.

Hope infects even the wisest.