The Emperor, even as a momentary flicker, shines brightly enough physically and psychically in Garviel's memory that Sarah wonders how he ever managed not to know he had psychic talent. Maybe he thought everyone experienced the man's presence that way. And why hadn't the Emperor told him? There was no way any telepath that powerful could have missed the spark of Garviel's latent abilities. Really, though, her curiosity is only a flicker itself, and anyway, she can't take to task someone who isn't present. (Would Sarah Kerrigan tell off the Emperor of Mankind? She sure would.)

"I don't have anyone," she says quietly. "Not like that." She loves Jim, but not the way Garviel loved the people he mentions. Sarah loves Jim like a drowning man loves a life raft, like a ship adrift loves a nav beacon. It's real, she thinks, but it's desperate and wild in a way Garviel's feelings aren't.

And Jim? Jimmy wants someone to save, to succeed where he'd failed before, to stop seeing his family's ghosts in his dreams. His love is as real as hers, but at the same time as self-serving as hers. She just couldn't see it until she had something else to compare it to. Neither of them is in the wrong, she doesn't believe that for a moment, but maybe neither of them is in the right, either. "There are a few people who would miss me, but not the way you miss your friends."