"Help me, Godsdamn it!" Leoben opens his eyes, and approaches slowly, quaking with fear. They move in concert, still, flipping it over in tandem without even a glance at each other; inside the Viper's broken cockpit is a pilot, head lolling, faceplate broken, uniform and helmet burnt black. Destiny sings as she reaches out to touch the thing, forcing her hand toward it, turning the body's head just enough to catch a glimpse of the flaxen hair inside. She vomits, and he stands very still, eyes closed again, terrified by futility, nonsense, the derangement of the universe as it whirls and crashes all around him.

Kara jerks the dogtags off the body's neck, quickly and firmly; they share the chain with Zak's ring. Leoben looks over her shoulder at the bloodstained tags, and her name etched on them, and jerks back. His confusion and pain become abject fear. "If you've got an explanation for this, now's the time," she says, her heart breaking. This isn't just her prophecy she's disproving, but his, too. Of all the mucky, disparate parts of their relationship, the one she accepted first was his knowledge: this isn't just her destiny, but theirs together. Who painted the sky? Who hands you a broken watch and promises to help you fix it, then throws up his hands like this? Who can you complain to, when even the guides have lost their maps?

She stares at him angrily, seething at his lack of an answer. He is broken, and sad, and smaller than he's ever been. His absolute certainty has drained out, bled out; his face is turning green. "I was wrong. About Earth." Kara nods, finally strong enough to tell him prophecies he doesn't know. "Your Hybrid told me something. Said that I was the harbinger of death. That I would lead us all to our end." Leoben jerks, hushed and stumbling, back and away from this truth. She's replaced the cloud of unknowing with a maelstrom. "She told you that?" Kara asks him if it's true, but he has already begun to run. Not from what she is, or what she is become, but from the fact of her, the fact that they're sitting in the center of a death he didn't even know about. He's gone. She's screaming at no one, face twisting. "Is it true? If that's me lying there, then what am I? What am I? What am I?"