A/N: Ugh. Sorry for the delay, but I've had personal problems, work problems, and problems with FFN's new format. I think I've got it all worked out now, though. So if anybody's still reading this, you're getting two chapters at once! The final two chapters, but hey, it's better than being left hanging, right? Right? Anybody hear me? Am I talking to empty cyberspace? Sorry, I'm tired. On to the final two chapters:


These wounds won't seem to heal
This pain is just too real
There's just too much that time cannot erase

Old Earth Song Lyrics
Evanescence
circa 2000AD


Look, I'm not my father, OK? I'm not an addict. I can stop any time I want.

Capt. Rebeka B. Valentine
circa CY 10087


Can I ever be more than my father? Or am I doomed to replay his life in my own twisted way?

Every morning I wake up craving Flash. Every night I go to sleep dreaming about Flash. I'm just like him. An addict.

I don't know if I can ever get past that. I don't know if I'll ever be anything but an addict.

And I hate it.

I wonder if Daddy hated it too? I wonder if he loathed Flash as much as I do, if he woke up and wished he could just carve out the part of himself that wanted it.

I wonder if he tried to go clean.

I wonder if he loved Rafe and me as much as we loved him.

And I wonder…

Is the way he felt for Mom the way I felt for Bobby? Or Leydon? Or any number of other jerks I thought I loved?

Did he break his friends' hearts the way I broke mine? Did the looks on their faces when they discovered he was a junkie, untrustworthy, stick with him to the end, the way Harper's face sticks with me? So help me, you have got to get off my back or I will dump you back on that trash heap where I found you!

Did he blame himself?

And the most pressing question, the one that's never been far from my mind almost since he died…

Would he be proud of me?

If he knew where I am today?

I'm doing good honest work for a noble cause. I'm restoring civilization to this chaotic universe. I have friends. I have respect.

I have a drug addiction I battle everyday. I have fleeting relationships with men who love me and leave me. I can't even trust my own memories.

Does time heal all wounds?

Or will I be carrying around a little girl's broken heart for the rest of my life?