Aberrant: Stargate Universe - Letter from the (Un)Departed [Fin]

[Yseult Sierra]

Less than one week in Isolation

Yseult hugged Dr. Frasier fiercely, tears running freely down her cheeks, hands clutching at her dark clothes. Janet hugged the now taller woman just as tightly, her own eyes wet. The few loose objects in the spartan room began to fly about with no visible means of support.

A final hard embrace, then Yseult stepped back, wiping at her eyes with the back of her hands. Her impossible turquoise eyes widened at the sight of her uncontrolled power, and instantly everything dropped. Her shoulders shoke with repressed sobs as she made her loose-limbed way to the desk in the corner of the room. She searched the untidy mass of papers on the desk, finally pulling out a sealed envelope, one corner slightly crumpled.

Janet straightened her black skirt-suit as she watched her good friend and colleague search the desk. Her heart was full of sympathy for this woman, whose funeral she was on her way to attend. She watched Yseult's diffident approach, then held her hands as she was passed the envelop, giving Yseult a comforting squeeze. "I'm so sorry it has to be way, Yseult."

"It does not have to be this way, it is only the best way left to me." She stumbled back to the bed, almost missing it when she went to sit on the edge. She gazed at Janet with forlorn eyes. "Make sure François gets that. And please make sure he is okay, that he will not do anything stupid. You know how he can be." She hiccuped with the sorrow, then continued. "Don't forget to pick up my marble chess set, I left it to Cassandra in my will. I know she admired it, and she usually defeated me anyway. I left something for you too, Janet. You'll see it when you get there."

"Just promise me one thing Janet? Don't ever tell me what my funeral was like, or what happened? Please?"

Janet bit her lip to keep from crying. "I understand Yse. I won't tell you a thing.I have... I have to go now, to pick up Cass, and catch our plane. When we come back, we'll talk, about other things, and better times, okay?" Janet barely waited for Yseult's miniscule nod, before turning away to leave, heels clicking on the hard floor, a hand going to her face. She heard Yseult break down again, her sobs long, dragged out wails of grief, but didn't turn back, afraid that if she did, she wouldn't leave at all.

Click to reveal.. (Letter from the (Un)Departed)

Dearest François,

If you are reading this, then I have gone where you cannot follow. Know that it was the best of poor choices that led to this. This path leads to grief, but also acceptance, and the chance to move on. Please, for both our sakes, do.

There is so much I would like to say and not enough time to say it. You took a plain woman, and made her feel beautiful; a smart woman, and made her wise; a closed woman, and opened her to all the possibilities that the universe had to offer.

When first we met, in that café by the St-Lawrence, I thought you a buffoon. Why would a man as gorgeous as you waste time on a plain woman like me? What could a simple car mechanic see in a woman who didn’t see past laboratory experiments and raw data? Why would someone who laughed so much chase someone who laughed too little? I cannot believe you spent so much time in the pursuit, nor can I be so grateful. You made a cup of coffee mean more than just a cup of coffee. I wish I could have seen in myself what you saw in me.

Or maybe I do. Every time I looked in the faces of our beautiful children, I knew we had done something remarkable, that the world was made better for our having been in it, and for them. Little Loric’s laughter is your laughter. And that sparkle in Monique’s eyes? Is that mine? They are the greatest joys in my life, and ever will be, and they are only ones I will miss more than you.

Little Loric is a boy full of exasperation, a hundred places at once, with a thousand hands. Mon Dieu! How that boy can get filthy so fast after a bath is beyond me, he must sweat dirt. And I still do not know how he found a lollipop in the Oratoire Saint-Joseph du Mont-Royal. I found something new in his pockets every day. How you laughed at me when I screamed when the mouse scurried out that one time. He will grow into a wonderful man, giving women fits, but always making then feel special. Just like his Papa.

Monique will grow into a woman far more attractive and intelligent than I. She is so much like me, which is both a blessing and a curse, I think. Temper her seriousness with your joie de vivre. Teach her that it is okay to make mistakes, even stupid ones, just be there to catch her when she falls. She can do anything, be anything, if she places no limits on herself. Teach her this. Though I cannot be there, I will always watch over her, and be proud.

Ah, François, I wished I had spent more time with them, and with you. You all deserved more. Promise me that you will mourn me, then continue with you life. You deserve more happiness in your life. Do not let your grief consume our children. Be strong for them. Find someone else to make you happy, and them happy. Then I’ll be happy too.

It is cold and dark and lonely where I am. But Loric’s laughter keeps me warm. The sparkle in Monique’s eyes light my way. And with memories of you, I am never alone. When you look up at the night sky, the stars are me looking back at you, over you, all of you.

I love you, always and forever

Yseult