He dries her whole body with a clean towel from head to toe, kissing each inch of skin tenderly along the way. They linger upon her stomach and near the insides of her thighs.

She cannot say it does not feel good. But it does not do much to alleviate the weight of her decision.

He must be trying to convince her. He must be saying goodbye.

But when he kisses his way back up, he stands and strokes her hair away from her face. Strokes her face and smiles, boyish and kind.

He must be hoping she will stay, anyway.

She almost wishes it worked on her anymore.

He leans in, brushing his lips gently over hers, her own mouth parting as he places the whisper of a kiss upon her. She opens her eyes to his half-lidded and darkening.

"I love you." He breathes it on her.

Her bare breasts graze his chest. She shivers and swallows. Her voice is broken. She finds his eyes, wistful. "I love you, too," she mouths.

His hands fall to her waist, his lips to her cheek. "Yeah," he whispers, gripping her tightly.

She smiles nervously, wrapping her hand around the bend of his arm. "Shall we go?" she says just as he brings her closer, forehead on hers, nearly swaying.

"Oh," he says, slightly panicked. "You want to?"

She sighs. "We must."

He furrows his brows. "Are you hungry?"

She laughs lightly. "No, no."

"What do you want? Whatever you want, wherever you wanna go. We can go anywhere."

The severity of his stare does her in — her stomach flutters and turns at the pure concern in his face. The promises he is finally willing to make.

What do they say here? Too little, too late.

She gently pushes him back and reaches for the towel he left by her feet, wrapping it around her body. It takes him a moment to blink out of his stupor, as if she had hit him instead.

She smiles warmly at him, hoping it would be enough to reassure him. She is too tired for words.

He blushes before taking another clean towel and closing it around his waist.

"Sorry," he says quietly, and she lets him be.


She loves her friends so much, she cannot stand it.

There is no use in crying — but while she knew in her mind and soul that she would see them all again, it did not cause it to hurt any less.

Why does this feel like a betrayal? As if she were abandoning everyone that has ever loved her?

She pushes through, anyway. She writes each letter with intention. With gratitude. With love.

It takes her most of the day, when she was not with her beloved friends, enjoying the day by their side. She tries her best to explain herself. As to why she had not told them face to face that she has decided to go back to her home planet for a while. But she figures it has become obvious.

His looks have threatened to haunt her all day. Though she had no reason to let them.

As pathetic as it feels, with all this grief raining out of her, its doubt leaking down her face, she cannot help but think. But feel.

Oh. She stares down at the paper.

There is no turning back.

In the midst of her misery, she has never been so proud.

My life, she writes, is mine. Whether or not you accept my absence is not of my concern. I only hope that the next time we meet, it will not cause either of us pain.

"We shall meet again," she says to the air, the sun setting beside her.


Only Raven knows of her departure. She does not cry when she hands her the letters. Or when they say their own goodbyes.

"You know what to do if you ever need me," Raven says, a sort of bittersweet smile gracing her beautiful face.

"Of course," she smiles back. "You as well."

"Let me know when you get there."

"Of course, of course." She squeezes Raven's hand. "Thank you."

"You would do the same for me."

She laughs, the tears finally springing to her eyes. "In a heartbeat."


She only packs what she cannot find back home. That includes her communicator, though she will not dare to turn it on.

She will not be gone for long. Surely. They will be fine without her. And if need be, she would be here, ready to fight at a moment's notice.

Should she ever be forgiven by him? Would he try and get her to come back? Could they keep the resentment between them from growing into hate?

X'hal, she is more than willing to try.

In the dead of night, she takes one last look at her room before closing the window from the outside. The air is fresh and cool, hitting her skin as she soars through it. The stars look achingly full and bright.

Do not look back. Do not look back. Do not look back.

The sky blurs in her vision and she blinks it away.

Do not turn around. Do not look. There is no looking back.

Despite herself, something calls her. Something turns her head, cranes her neck, shifts her eyes.

Not too far away, she sees him on the roof. And like his eyes could burn her from here, she flinches.

She looks to the moon and she flies.


But not before she sees it for herself one last time.

It is a strange dream. A mausoleum. A secret.

The ocean crashes outside, like it is crying for her to just leave. But she was called here, and stupidly enough, she listened.

The clock ticks. The only sound, other than her occasionally heavy breath.

Only empty furniture remains. There is no sign he was ever here.

No sign she was here, alongside him.

The clock tocks and it grates her. Was it always this loud?!

Perhaps it was — his confession sparks in her mind. Her body seems to follow. She tries not to break down again.

The way Jason abandoned her, she abandoned Richard.

But have I ever hurt them, she does not know how to feel, the way they hurt me?

What to think. What to do.

The clock goes. And goes. And goes.

"Why," she huffs, "would you leave that?"

She takes it off the wall. When she turns it, she gasps.

She peels the letter off the clock.