From the moment he wrote it Blair knew he would never be able to mail that letter --even if he had had an address to mail it to-- but still he had felt the need to write the words down, hoping that maybe just writing them would make it go away, but it didn't.
There had been so many twists and turns over the past couple of years that he still got dizzy just thinking about it, and yet he could honestly say that after a rough beginning everything was finally fine. Even though sometimes he still missed anthropology he enjoyed being a detective, he enjoyed putting the pieces together, he enjoyed the fact that there were tangible, immediate benefits from a job well done and he enjoyed the camaraderie he shared with his colleagues now that he no longer felt like an outsider. Even though the path that had led him to that point had been difficult he was content and oddly enough that was the problem.
Shortly after she had released his dissertation, he had told Naomi that all was forgiven. Those had been the words she had needed to hear at the time and he hadn't had the heart to deny her that comfort... the only problem was that deep down he had NOT forgiven her, not then. It had been too soon, his loss had been too great and he hadn't been ready... and somehow he couldn't help but wonder whether or not Naomi had known that.
Forgiving her had not been easy, and he couldn't say when it had finally happened. There had been no defining moment, only a moment of acknowledgment on the second anniversary of his press conference, and that moment had caused him to write the letter that now sat in front of him, taunting him, mocking him. The irony was not lost on him. He had to tell his mother that all was finally forgiven and yet there was no way he could possibly tell her that. The doubt and the guilt were driving him crazy... if only he could be certain that Naomi had believed his original lie.