I don't care which way you would think to judge me for what I did to my son, so what affair is it of mine how you handled things with your own family? [The words continue to be cool, empty. There are too many broken people from broken families on this ship. And for all their commonalities he still knows there are a lot of unique messes.

He's gazing out a window now, rather than looking at her.]

I still love him. He's my blood, my very own - maybe even in a way I care more now, if only because I've forced myself to look at it and acknowledge love and connection for what it really is.

I forgave him for what he tried. I can't make myself hate him for taking the lessons I taught by example a little too well. It hurts, and it wouldn't have otherwise. If I cut him out of my life the way I would with any other ungrateful insolent and traitor. But if I let myself do that, live in it...I don't know. I think it would start to build into something I couldn't control. [It would spread inside of him until...until he became something like what's waiting on Mirror Barge. Unmoored and desperate mindless anger.] I think I'd rather live with the pain.