She needed to stop this and she knew it.

With a frustrated growl, Corra reached for her CID and yanked the device out of its slot in the wall. The screen in front of her flickered black before gradually fading back to its default blue glow, inviting new users. As the light washed over her, Corra glanced down at the little stick in her hand. The temptation to reinsert it and load up her console one more time, just in case, was nearly overwhelming. Maybe this time, it said. Maybe if she just checked one more time.

Truthfully, she didn’t even know what she was looking for. All she knew was that she’d been obsessively watching the news for the past hour, ever since the captain and Leta had gone off to meet with Goddora. What she expected to see there, she was unsure of. Obviously, she was hoping for something along the lines of ‘Notorious Criminal Ringleader Found Dead’. It wouldn’t even matter which criminal ringleader really, though one of the options would leave her a little worried for Leta’s sake.

But she was delusional. There was no chance. Nothing would happen. Fiearius would return a few thousand credits richer and Goddora would live another day selling lives and deaths as marketable commodities. As for Corra? She’d feel sick to her stomach as the Dionysian lifted off this hellhole once again without changing a thing and internally hate herself for not leaving this stupid ship, getting her own and actually serving justice with it.

Her eyes fell once again to the CID in her palm. But maybe….

No, she would not waste any more time staring at a screen and speculating. She would just have to find some other distraction to bide her time while she impatiently awaited the return of the ashore team and the lack of news to satiate her bloodlust.

Thankfully, she knew exactly where to find that distraction.

“So what are you decrypting?” Corra asked Cyrus in lieu of a greeting as she slipped onto the bridge and hung herself over the back of his chair, nearly causing the poor man to jump in fright.

When Cyrus realized it was simply the arms master and not someone here to murder him, he calmed and looked up at her curiously. “It’s not really decrypting, but…” he muttered, but couldn’t even finish the thought before Corra had spotted a familiar name amongst the directory he had pulled up on the screen in front of him.

“Is that Leta’s?” she asked suddenly, eyeing the screen. “Why do you have that?”

“I’m–” Cyrus began uncomfortably. It was clear he did not want to talk about this. Which only made Corra want to know more.

“You’re what?” she insisted, grabbing his shoulder.

“I’m doing some source tracking for her,” he sputtered, shrugging her hand off. “It’s not a big deal.”

“Source tracking?” Corra repeated curiously. It wasn’t unusual for her to find Cyrus engaging in activities and processes that she was not all that interested in inquiring about. Asking Cyrus about something technical would land you a lecture that would take you through the entire history of the subject as well as contemporary theories, statistical analysis and various methodologies. He had once told her that during his graduate schooling, he had worked briefly as a teaching assistant. Corra felt terribly sorry for his students.

Realizing her error then, she quickly scanned the screen for something else to prevent the on-coming explanation. It wasn’t difficult. In the bottom right corner was a directory that was, unlike the others which all seemed to be dry and informational, labeled ‘Personal’. Corra was intrigued.

“What’s in that one?”

“What?” he asked, at a loss and unable to argue as she tapped the name and the screen shifted over to its contents. He also, Corra noticed, didn’t entirely resist reading the first few titles of that content before he protested, “Corra, I don’t think we should be–”

“Oh shush, she’s never gonna know,” Corra told him as she tapped the first one on the list, labeled only by the date ‘04.14.60‘. “What is this?”

Despite Cyrus’ apparent moral qualms with digging around in the new doctor’s personal data back-up, he too fell into silence as both pairs of eyes unapologetically read the text document that had appeared before them. For a moment, Corra was confused by her complete lack of context. She had been expecting some sort of diary or journal, but it didn’t seem as though it was Leta writing. It was addressed to her. From who? A name she didn’t recognize. But as she read further and further down the page, it began to be very apparent what she was reading.

This was a love letter.

Certain telling phrases jumped out at her from the screen.

… always been my strength, my inspiration …

…. it’s simply not enough to say ‘I love you’ …

… it only took months for me to find my true reason to cherish life: and that is you.