The Negaverse could not be trusted.

That's what Sailor Canopus told herself, time and time again. The ambush may have passed and wounds may have healed, but those wounds had festered and had transformed into scars. And scars, when cut so deep, would mark the skin forever. Such scars weren't just physical, but mental and emotional as well. That was something that she had always known, even before she became Sailor Canopus. As Bethany Wyatt, she had attended a school filled with students of more unsavory backgrounds and many of them were troubled, and she took personal joy out of talking with them. She'd pick them apart and pry into their business, but slowly, gradually, all to gain their trust in hopes of letting them open up to her. That would have made the healing process easier and it spared her a trip to the nurse's office when one dug too deep, too fast.

Yet she never thought she'd be seeing herself as the one needing their psyche to be nitpicked, however, but there was no immunity to personal tragedies of various kinds. Some of her students had lost a parent either to disease, violence or horrible accidents, others lost friends or suffered personal injury that permanently left an irreparable hole in both their hearts and minds. She was not injured during the fight, but she watched a friend, a good and sacred friend, take multiple blows for her while keeping her close, and the memory of the event, the feeling of confusion and betrayal when their allies -- former allies -- turned on them, had made sure to remained perfectly etched into her brain, even weeks later. It was a reminder that the Negaverse could not be trusted as a whole.

She knew that not every officer was part of the attack, as she had managed to see other officers facing one another throughout the fight. She was told that the offenders were gathered and punished by their General-King for their actions, and she believed the report. She believed the report that there would not be another incident... but she knew that it would not erase what had happened, nor would it ease the bitter hatred that rested in the hearts of those that had instigated the attack in the first place. Hate was still there, merely contained, but for how long? When would the next rebellion rise? And would there have been someone there to stop them when it came to be?

Canopus didn't trust the Negaverse. Nor would she ever trust them as a whole again. She tried to get her mind off of the matter and didn't want to have her hatred fester, but the mental image of Avior's injuries, the physical sight of Nischal sitting in a hospital bed... she would never forget.

Nor did she think she was capable of forgiving...

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