Please

 

Come back, Beka. Please come back to us. The sight of you lying on that hospital bed is more than I can stand. I miss you. We all miss you. You're the best pilot we've got. You're even a better pilot than I am, and that's not an easy thing for me to admit. Your crew needs you, Beka. We care about you, even though you haven't been yourself lately. We're willing to forgive you for everything. The snapping, the temper, the disobeyed orders. I'm even willing to forgive you for trying to rip my heart out. I understand; you weren't in your right mind. But it's hard now. The command deck feels so empty without your shrewd, egotistical presence. All the assignments I'd normally do with you, I now do alone. Or else I do them with Harper, and I'm sure you can imagine how that turns out. Life feels so dull without you around. There's no chasing down criminals in backwater casinos. There are no more smuggling missions or adventures into parallel universes. Please, Beka. Please wake up. Please come back. I can't keep living like this, not knowing whether or not you'll live. I can't keep sitting here by your bedside, talking to your comatose body. You probably can't even hear me. I want to talk to you, Beka; the you I know and love. For my sake - for your sake, Beka - please come back.

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