James' anxiety buzzed around him like a bee colony and tasted like sweat. The link they shared wasn't true telepathy, but Kaidan still found himself wishing for an off switch. Being back on Earth was overwhelming enough with just his own fear to deal with. He'd never been to North Carolina, but his minders had told him that Raleigh-Durham was the largest metropolitan area to remain mostly untouched by the Reapers. The buildings glistened and gleamed as if the last eighteen months had never happened. Trees that had stood for decades or centuries lined the streets.

But those trees had patterns like circuitry engraved in the bark. All organic life had been infected—if infected was the right word for something that didn't seem malicious or harmful—with some kind of synthetic symbiote. What effect that had on the trees was anybody's guess. Hell, the serviceman who had been assigned to him after the Normandy had been rescued had told him they were still trying to figure out what it did for humans. Which was why Kaidan was here instead of Vancouver with his mother.

James looked out the window. "Sure are a lot of people here. You think they're here to see us?" A mischievous grin spread across his face. "And do you think I can get any of them to buy me drinks?"

"Nice to see you're keeping it all in perspective, Lieutenant." At least James could joke. But there were a lot of people milling around the sidewalks, more than there should be for a city of this size in the middle of the day. Maybe that was the real reason the Alliance had them arriving by groundcar. This was a test drive before they got on with the full-court press of awarding medals and giving speeches and all the other stuff that always made Kaidan blush and sweat. That had always been Shepard's thing. He would've stopped the car just so he could smile and wave and pose with some pretty girl. And gotten the pretty girl's phone number later. He would have been so good at this.

So of course it was Kaidan who was left to soldier on and be fêted for the accomplishment of not starving to death.

The medical center had belonged Duke University before the war, and maybe it still did on paper. But every third person was wearing Alliance insignia. They bustled about purposely, the way people get in hospitals. A few cast looks of open astonishment, but no one rushed up to him to ask for his autograph or to tell them exactly what it had been like to be stranded so far from home.

James shifted awkwardly in a chair that was a little too small for him. "Any luck finding Miranda?"

Kaidan shook his head. "Asked around with people who might know something, but I came up empty. I'll keep trying though." He didn't know exactly how, though. Even Shepard hadn't been able to find her when she didn't want to be found. It had been a joke on poker night: Alexander Shepard, Casanova extraordinaire, waiting helplessly for the next word from his girlfriend.

There were times he wished the Alliance had left him to rot. As long as he was marooned, everything was possible. His dad might have only been missing. It might've been just the Normandy crew that developed strange green streaks in their eyes. Shepard might've survived after pulling one of those feats of derring-do that left Kaidan equal parts impressed, jealous, and terrified. Back among civilization, everything was so terrifyingly certain. His dad's body had been found and the funeral held without Kaidan. The mass relays had gone dark, and Sol was cut off from the rest of the galaxy. Shepard was dead.

Kaidan leaned against the wall of the makeshift comm room, trying to be as unobtrusive as possible while Shepard said his goodbyes. The holographic light of the QEC did nothing to hide the fact that Miranda Lawson was stunningly gorgeous. Kaidan had never understood what Shepard saw in her. Shepard had never lacked for beautiful women. Kaidan had only dim memories of Horizon, but he remembered Miranda making some snide comment or other about the Alliance and his ability to see what was right in front of them. She was Cerberus, and if half the things in her dossier were true, any man with a functioning brain wouldn't want to be within a light-year of her without body armor.

But at last, he thought he understood. There was nothing cold or cruel in her eyes now. She smiled, and Kaidan felt his breath catch. It was a sad smile, beautiful in the way winters were beautiful. She looked like one of those princesses in the books Kaidan used to read who would send the knight she secretly loved on a quest to kill the dragon. Men would have died for that smile.

"I just wish I could be there. With you."

"Me too."

Miranda nibbled her bottom lip, and Kaidan looked at the floor. Seeing Miranda vulnerable was worse than seeing her naked. "I wanted to say goodbye." Shepard opened his mouth to speak, but Miranda held up a hand. "Please. If we both come back from this at all, everything will be different."

Shepard's voice was bright with a swaggering confidence. "Sure it will. But on our terms. Not the Reapers'. Not the Illusive Man's. We won't have to run anymore. I can finally take you out on an actual date."

"Listening to you, I can almost believe it." She gave a strangled laugh and Kaidan chanced a glance upward. Miranda leaned in close, almost but not quite touching Shepard. "Then finish this, and find me."

His fingers hovered over her cheek, causing the image to wobble. "I will." He swallowed and closed his eyes. "I promise."

Miranda's image flickered and was gone. Shepard stepped back. His shoulders were hunched, and he didn't look anything like the man who had waded into an army of husks. "Please," he whispered, his voice raw, "let me keep that promise." He finally seemed to notice Kaidan. "You've discovered my weak spot: beautiful brunettes with Australian accents. Don't tell anyone."

"I think I figured it out the first time you went halfway across the galaxy because you got an e-mail from her." Kaidan smiled. "But your secret's safe with me."

"Good." Shepard removed a small gold ring from his pocket. The diamond was as small as you could get and still be called a diamond, but it caught the harsh light of the room. "Kept promising myself I was going to give her this when the war was over. But now…" Shepard looked up at Kaidan and he seemed so utterly, completely broken that Kaidan didn't know what to make of it. "Remember when you said that you owed me after Virmire? I'm calling in my marker."

Kaidan tensed. He did remember that: a statement carelessly tossed out in a rush of grief and guilt. It was the sort of thing you said all the time if you were in the service long enough. But the debt didn't go away just because it had been treated casually. He owed Shepard his life a thousand times over. Besides, the last request of a dying man was sacred. And they were all dying men. "What do you need?"

"If you make it back and I don't…" He cleared his throat. "Could you keep an eye on Miranda for me? Make sure the Alliance doesn't give her a hard time and that she eats between making all these wonderful discoveries to help humanity? "

Kaidan rubbed the back of his neck. "Me? Keep an eye on Miranda?" He had a sudden image of Henry Lawson flying backwards through the glass. "You do know she hates me, right?"

"She doesn't know you well enough to hate you. Please, Kaidan. You're the closest thing to family I've got."

"Okay. Not sure exactly what you want me to do, but okay."

It was the last time they had ever spoken. And Kaidan had spent the next year scrounging for food and shelter for the rest of the crew and hoping against hope that Shepard had made it. Miranda Lawson hadn't been any closer to his thoughts than Sol was to Pluto. But now he had a promise to keep—and no idea how he was going to keep it or even find Miranda in the first place.

Twenty minutes later, a nurse called him back. She was a pretty asari still in the matron stage. Her skin was the same soft blue as Liara's but her facial markings were the same pale green that Kaidan had learned to associate with this strange new world he had been dumped into. Her hips swiveled when she walked, and Kaidan tried really hard not to stare or to think about the last time he had had sex with a woman. But her buttocks were very, ah, firm. July 22, 2185. Kimberly Deveres.

"So you're the Major Alenko? My sister would be—would have been so—jealous. You're on all the vids. Is it true that there were biotic lions on that planet?"

"There were lions, yeah, but they weren't biotic!" Really, how did stories like that even get started? "And I wasn't a hero. I just tried to do the best I could by my crew. Any marine would have done the same thing."

The nurse shook her head. "Don't be so modest. My sister was a member of the Serrice Guard. You and your biotic troops saved her life in the battle."

"Serrice Guard? I've never served with a finer bunch of women." They had saved his ass a few times toward the end there. And the nurse had provided something nice and safe to talk about that wouldn't make him blush. Something that could lead to dinner, drinks, or a bit more. "Who was your sister?"

The nurse's face closed up, and Kaidan realized he had said the wrong thing. "Safira T'Kana. She died a few months ago. Suicide. She couldn't adapt to the changes, I guess."

Heat flooded Kaidan's cheeks. If he put his foot in his mouth any more often, it would be stuck there. "I'm sorry." What else could you say to something like that? They walked the rest of the way in silence.

The examining room looked just like the ones in Huerta Memorial. Kaidan wasn't sure what he was expecting—maybe futuristic looking whatchamacallits that looked like something out of a vid or partially organic medical instruments to go with the synthetic trees—but this was resolutely normal, even if he had only a vague idea what the monitors and thin metal tubes were for.

He knew Padok Wiks only from the stories Shepard had told: his desire to find the ultimate purpose of evolution, his determination to cure the genophage, his narrow escape after repairing a temperature malfunction at the Shroud. The change had affected him less obviously than it had some others. He resembled the typical salarian except for green pinpricks in the center of his eyes. He strode forward and seized Kaidan's hand in a firm grip. "A pleasure to meet you, Major. Kirrahe and Shepard both spoke of you with great respect."

He led Kaidan to a hard, plastic chair and took the stool opposite. "Given the unusual nature of the phenomena you described, I'd prefer to take your history myself. Less chance of errors or ridiculous rumors. Honestly, biotic lions?" he muttered. "You say you developed an empathic link with the other human members of the Normandy crew?"

"I don't know what you would call it. But six months in and we just—we just started knowing things about each other. I would know when Vega was really angry or when Cortez was hungry. One time when I was out on patrol, I got a bad feeling about Traynor, so I rushed back to camp. It turned out one of those very-much-not-a-biotic lions was trying to kill her."

Wiks entered something into a datapad. "Fascinating. And utterly unique so far."

"Utterly unique? Earth is home to billions of people plus the millions of people who got stuck here after the relays shut down, and you're telling me that a few dozen marines stuck in the middle of nowhere are the only people who've had something like this happen to them?"

"Possibly not, but you are the only ones who've come forward. I have a theory, but it's far too early to say anything. I will say that you and your colleagues could be the key to solving the mystery of what exactly happened a year ago." He smiled. "Not that there's any pressure."

Isolation was surprisingly comfortable once you got used to it. Hackett had provided her with a lab, and most of Dr. Cole's surviving staff was now under her leadership. The bush was as untamed as ever, untouched by either civilization or the Reapers. Henry had hated the wilderness. Untamed nature, with its randomness and unpredictability, represented everything he fought against. Miranda didn't care for the Outback either—it was impossible to get a decent signal—but having her headquarters here provided a kind of petty emotional victory over her father.

The remoteness kept the curious away. She and Alex had kept their romance a secret, but there had always been rumors. The last thing she needed was gossips milling on her doorstep, looking for salacious details. Or demagogues like al-Jilani screeching at her for entrapping the Alliances greatest hero. As if the reporter hadn't accused Alex of treason every time she needed a ratings spike.

She had kept only the most tenuous of links to her old life. There was the small wooden box containing the posthumous decorations Alex had received. That had been her sole condition for coming here, and Hackett had been happy to acquire her services so cheaply. It wasn't as if he had had legal family with a better claim to them. She twisted the ring on her right hand. There had been no body to bury. She had needed some physical token of the loss she had suffered. The ring and the medals would have to suffice. It was more than she had for Oriana, who had simply vanished from her life when the relays and comm systems went dark for the last time.

And so she tried to pretend the last two years had never happened. Work consumed her. Hackett had been even more generous in providing challenges than the Illusive Man. Humanity was still trying to piece together what had happened when a green light filled the sky and the Citadel had exploded. It was obvious it was connected to the firing of the Crucible. The seemingly benign nanites had taken time to discover. Still more time to connect them with the seeming immunity to poison, drowning, and asphyxiation that organics had developed. Why the Crucible dispensed its energy in this of all ways or how it is connected to the geth's sudden interest in art would likely remain mysteries.

There was a tingle at the base of her spine. Not again. A wave of wild mirth washed over her. Something somewhere was very funny, but she had no idea what was. Miranda doubled over in laughter all the same. The first attack of unexplained emotion had been mere weeks after the Battle of Earth. It had been one of her better days, and she'd managed to get through her testing without breaking down into tears.

The tingle had been her only warning before the grief and rage hit her. Miranda's sadness had been a fog that muted all she came in contact with, but this had been a sharp, clear, and bitter as broken glass. It had left as quickly as it arrived, and Miranda had chalked it up to entering a new stage of grief. But as the months passed, emotions with no obvious trigger continued to overtake her. It wasn't always negative emotion—today's hilarity was as likely as that first pang of grief—but it was always unpleasant. Neurological scans had turned up nothing, and Miranda was left to wonder if this was simply her particular way of going insane.

"Incoming message from Admiral Hackett." News of calls or some discovery or other had a way of bringing her traitorous emotions under control, and this time was no exception. The mirth subsided, and Miranda made her way to the outpost's comm room.

Some had been broken by the changes of the last year, but Hackett had only grown stronger. The nanites had healed the scars on his face, and his calmness in the face of what could have been the fall of civilization had ensured he became the most powerful man on Earth. Miranda would never be as fond of him as she had been of the Illusive Man, but considering how blind that fondness had made her, perhaps that was a good thing.

"The crew of the Normandy has been recovered. Stranded on some unmapped garden world. I thought you would want to know. I understand you and Dr. T'Soni were close."

She had received messages from an old contact a week ago confirming the survival of the crew, but she smiled as if it was news to her. It wasn't wise to tell Hackett everything she knew. "We cooperated to recover Commander Shepard's remains." Any chance of that turning into friendship had evaporated when she and Alex had lost their senses and fallen head over heels for each other.

"Damnedest thing, though. They seem to have developed some kind of weird link. Feeling each other's emotions, knowing when they're in danger. There's a salarian at a med center in North Carolina who's trying to figure it out."

Miranda stiffened. "Feeling each other's emotions, you said?" Finally, someone who was going through what she was. Perhaps it was more than mere insanity. "Has he made any progress?"

"None yet. Which is why I've contacted you. If we can figure this thing out, then we can replicate it. Squads comprised of men and women who instinctively know when the other is in danger could be a real gamechanger on the battlefield. I'm not naïve Lawson. We might all be too scared and grateful to be alive to start fights now, but eventually there'll be a war over some stupid thing or other." He put his hands behind his back. "And when that day comes, I want the Alliance to have every advantage it can. Not the STG. Do I make myself clear?"

Miranda smiled despite herself. "Perfectly." What had the Illusive Man said to her once? You and I aren't Cerberus. Cerberus is an idea. As long as humanity must struggle to achieve its rightful place in the galaxy, we will continue to exist.

"Good. Do what you have to do here. I want you on the next flight to Raleigh."

Kaidan never thought he would be nostalgic for BAaT. He had been a kid far from home, and Vyrnnus had been a sadistic bully, but at least he had been doing something in between bouts of getting poked, prodded, and harangued.

The scanning device Wiks used always left him with a headache afterwards. They were never as bad as the migraines that came with being an L2, but he had come to dread the low roar of the machine the same way he dreaded strobe lights. But there was nothing to do except lie on the cold metal table and think. Wiks was a nice guy, but Kaidan was beginning to believe he had no idea what he was doing. The days had begun to blur together as test succeeded test without any result. His world was as narrow now as it had been when he was marooned, no more than a few kilometers square. Traynor had told him to enjoy the quiet before he was officially cleared for duty in the press would descend in earnest, but Kaidan was bored out of his skull.

The noise stopped, and the great metal beast was wheeled away. The dull ache began behind his eyes as it always did. "Thank you, Major," said the lab technician. "You're free to go. Dr. Wiks will call you—"

"—with any notable results. Yeah, I know." Kaidan dove for his shirt. If he were lucky, he could beat the lunch rush. There was a café a few blocks from here with great steak. Not as good as what had been served at Apollos but definitely tastier than anything he'd had in the last year.

"Not just yet, Major." The voice was hard and cold, with an enunciation that could cut glass. "An old friend wants to say hello." Miranda Lawson's lips twisted in an ironic smile. "Albeit one with a very loose definition of the word friend."

Kaidan gaped at her. His memories of his first mission to Horizon were a dim blur, and Miranda had looked more like hamburger than a human being after Sanctuary. So his mental image of her had been comprised of dossier photographs, security footage, and that tragic, incongruous memory of her bidding Shepard goodbye. It was the Cerberus second-in-command who stood in the doorway. She no longer wore the jumpsuit that EDI had insisted was part of the Cerberus uniform, but the gray and white business attire did just as good a job accentuating her curves. But without the latex or whatever it was, he could see the toned muscle underneath. She wasn't just some pinup model. She was sleek and deadly, the sort of woman who could kill you before you even knew what was happening. No wonder Shepard had gone crazy for her.

Her hair fell across her shoulders in soft waves, every strand perfectly in place. The nanites had affected her more subtly than it had some others. A faint green light pulsed beneath her skin, but her eyes still looked blue at this distance. No weird nanomachines disfigured her they had the Illusive Man in that final log on Cronos Station. But Kaidan still stared at her. All that searching, and she was standing here as casually as you pleased. Huh.

"I understand wanting to show off the impressive physique you acquired during your little vacation, but you look ridiculous holding your shirt like that."

Kaidan looked down at the shirt in his hands. The temperature in the room dropped a few degrees. Forget being lucky enough to get an early steak. If he were really lucky, Miranda would be hit by a short-term amnesia ray and he could throw his shirt on and be out the door without anyone being the wiser. But Miranda kept smirking as Kaidan hastily put his shirt on. She had found him instead of the other way around. The sight of her had made his brain check out. Keep an eye on her? Maybe somebody should be keeping an eye on me instead.

Her smile changed. It wasn't the tender expression she had reserved for Shepard, but it wasn't mocking either. "Much better. Not that I didn't appreciate the view. I've been looking over your chart. I'm surprised your brain hasn't been scrambled from all the imaging that Wiks has ordered. And so little to show for it."

"I know. I'm starting to wonder if—did you say that you were looking over my chart? "

Her eyes glittered in a way that couldn't mean good things for him. "I do have some medical expertise. Or does my dossier completely leave out the Lazarus Project? The Alliance is anxious to have its newest hero of the hour cleared to return to active duty. Naturally, they called me. Of course, knowing them they'll waste all your skills in favor of using you for the recruitment ads. Enjoy your freedom while you still have it. If you thought you were being used as a tool when Udina made you a Spectre…well, I hope you enjoy being treated like a prize horse. But for now, would you like some lunch?"

"Lunch?"

She raised an eyebrow. "The middle meal of the day? I believe most people are rather fond of it. And I would like to talk to you in a place that doesn't smell like disinfectant."

Well, at least times hadn't changed her that much. "Lead on, then, milady."

Archer's had originally been a haunt for students looking for food both cheap and edible before they got back to giving themselves nervous breakdowns over finals. But there was a booth tucked away on the side closest to the kitchen that afforded some measure of privacy. Miranda's handler had used it often in her university days.

Kaidan sat across from her. The war had left him haggard and vaguely beaten down. Silver touched his temples even as green light worked its way through his irises. Handsome in his distinguished, careworn way. Oriana would have gone mad for him. She tried to remember what he had looked like before—if he had always had that pained, pinched look—but it was no good. Kaidan had never been important in himself, but because of Alex. He had been part of her research into the famed Commander Shepard, but it had been research she had delegated to subordinates. She had listened to Alex's stories about his best friend—his funny, charming, wonderful stories—but she had listened because Alex had told them.

Kaidan shifted awkwardly in his seat. Here it comes. "I'm sorry about Shepard. He loved you. Couldn't stop talking about you."

Miranda glanced down at the ring Alliance forces had recovered from the Citadel. "I...thank you." What else could she say? Alex had never said those exact words, but neither had she. She had known how he felt about her from the way he squeezed her hand or from the absolutely terrified expression on his face when Leng had stabbed her. She didn't need Kaidan Alenko to tell her. She supposed she should return the condolences, but the words stuck in her throat. Her world had been stripped of niceties a long time ago. Every pleasantry was a way to manipulate. She didn't want to share a stranger's grief, even if that stranger had loved Alex as much a she had. "Thank you. But I didn't come here to bore you with my grief. I'm here because of you, Major Alenko," she said, laying a subtle stress on his title.

"I know. This weird link thing I have going. Who are you working for now, anyway?"

"The same people I was always working for: humanity. It's who Padok Wiks is working for that worries me."

He raised an eyebrow. "Wiks isn't the best doctor I've ever had, but he seems like a nice guy. I don't think he's trying to poison me or anything."

"Nice is different than good. The Illusive Man could be very charming, and we both know how that turned out. Fools don't create genophage cures. And they don't repeat the same experiments over and over expecting different results. I think he's stalling. Probably to give the STG a leg up. Hackett wants us to be the first to figure out the empathic link that you've developed. I agree with him. So, I want to run my own tests on you and the rest of the crew. With luck, we'll develop something that can help Alliance forces. Not to mention the potential applications for psychiatry and so forth." And perhaps discovering what's happening to me. "I will need your cooperation."

"More tests?" he said dryly. "Okay then. Just tell me when, where, and what I need to bring."

"That was easier than I expected."

He glanced at her ring. "Just paying back a marker. That's all."

The plan right now is for three parts. Part two should be up next week and part three the week after that. I'm hoping a less ambitious scope will increase odds of seeing this through.