James

When Jim woke up each morning, he felt strange, as if some kind of steel clamp formerly fastened to his skull had been removed without warning, letting his brain breathe, letting him feel parts of his head that had otherwise numbed long ago.

Today, for instance, he woke up next to Miranda, whose head rested on his shoulder, her breath tickling his neck. When he looked at her, his mind did not take a brief yet still guilt-ridden jaunt to Lydia or Sarah. When he turned away from her and stared up at the ceiling, he felt no sudden jolt as memories of Tarsonis came to the fore when he remembered Mengsk still lived. Jim could feel no gnawing doubt about threats beyond his ken and paygrade, as the Reapers had been. Instead he felt … light. The zerg were long dormant. Mengsk was dead, and had been proven an unrepentant monster to boot. And the Reapers, as far as anyone could tell, had retreated from the galaxy entirely. Life, for the first time in far too long, felt full of possibility.

Jim shifted his weight, letting Miranda's head gently slide off his bare torso so he could rise without waking her. She ain't quite done with her duties just yet. Duran's vanishing act following the collector base had proven remarkably inexplicable, much to Miranda's frustration and Jim's faint amusement. Whoever the man was or what his intentions had been, he was clearly a master at his craft. Still, I'll feel a lot more at peace when she either finds him or gives up. Cerberus might still think they have shit to do, but I'm done. Just one last mission, Miri, then come see what Eden Prime has to offer.

Despite himself, Jim's gaze still wandered to the now empty liquor cabinet as he made for the cabin door, stomach rumbling. No need for that now. Whatever pain that still needed numbing now felt far from fresh, requiring nothing more than perhaps a few moments of quiet, perhaps some music. If nothing else, checking his email always produced a few more laughs as his many fans sent him congratulatory but more often simply strangely irreverent emails that talked him and the other collector base survivors as impervious demi-gods. But mostly the volus. Especially the volus.

Breakfast went by without a single pang for alcohol, and it seemed like the food tasted better every day. Crewmen greeted him as he passed them by, and he returned their greeting with a genuine smile and wave, occasionally stopping to chat with them about their plans once Norad II made its likely final stop at Eden Prime. Many had already left for parts unknown, Declan included, and where once Jim might have felt betrayed … now it just felt like mission accomplished. I wish him well. Hope he remembers to email me about when the wedding is.

"One last stop at port, sir?" Matt Horner waited for him at the airlock, still wearing his old Confederate uniform, still keeping the tone formal. Nevertheless, the smile he offered Jim possessed warmth Jim couldn't remember seeing in years. "The Cerberus QEC disassembly is complete, per Harper's request. There's nothing keeping us here, anymore." He shrugged. "Of course … there's nothing telling us we have to leave, either. The galaxy's given us free reign to do more or less as we please."

"And ain't that a sweet feeling?" Jim spread his arms and gave Matt a rough hug, which he returned. "Thanks for putting up with me, man. Can't believe we saw this through."

"Kerrigan and Harper don't seem to think this is over," said Matt, pulling away with a frown. "Neither does Zeratul. Neither did Duran, before he pulled his vanishing act … and judging by the still-closed hanar borders, I'm guessing the jellies likewise feel there is still some question over the Reapers."

Jim shrugged, smile unabated. "Hell, Matt, maybe it's a long-term problem for a few thousand years down the line. As far as I can tell, there ain't any collectors harassing anybody anymore. No Reapers popping up and saing bizarre shit as they try to vaporize protoss."

"And the UED?" Matt's brow furrowed and he crossed his arms. "They've united the KMC and Dominion fully, something I don't think anyone thought possible … but why aren't they going home? Are they going to uphold the peace?"

"Stukov's a practical man, Matt. He ain't gonna make war with the whole galaxy." Jim clapped a hand on Matt's shoulder before motioning to the airlock. "Plus, David Anderson and them – good people. You know that."

"I wish I could more fully share your optimism, sir." Matt stepped into the airlock with Jim, beginning the cycle sequence. "As it stands, at the very least I think you've earned a comfortable retirement on Eden Prime, if you're finally comfortable doing so."

"I feel good, Matt." Jim nodded to himself. "Yeah. Maybe the only thing I wanna do besides getting back to marshalling is find out what kind of crime Tychus has got himself up to … apologize. Maybe convince him to stop, if that's possible."

"I wish you luck with that." The airlock doors hissed as the cycle completed. "So who are you saying your last goodbyes to?"

"Sarah and Garrus," replied Jim. "Pretty obvious ones, I think. Anderson and his crew, if they have a spare moment. Zeratul. Everyone else I can think of is already off the station."

"Is Miranda coming with us?" The two of them stepped out on to the docking bay. Jim could already see the asari docking authority waving them through, knowing damn well who they were already. "Or is she still committed to finding our elusive friend?"

"She ain't one to let things go if she can help it." Jim waved back to the docking authority and proceeded to the right, to the elevator that led to the Citadel proper. "Harper's accepted her resignation, for which I am eternally grateful, but she didn't want her last job to be summed up as being outdone by Samir Duran." Jim rolled his eyes. "Point of professional pride. Think I might place a bet, three months after she finally settles on Eden Prime, she'll be the one running the capital city. Wouldn't be happy doing anything less."

"You seem to attract remarkable women, sir." They stopped before the main elevator for what could very well be the last time. Jim grinned at Matt as he hit the button with a cheery fist.

"What, and you don't? Can't think of a better word to describe Mira Han than "remarkable.""

"Suddenly I take it all back, sir. I can't wait to be rid of your sorry ass."

Jim chuckled. The elevator doors slid open and the two of them stepped in, side by side. Matt pressed a button that set them bound for the Presidium, while Jim set the elevator to proceed to the C-Sec offices.

They reached the C-Sec offices first.

"See you back on the ship, Matt." Jim clapped him on the shoulder one last time before jogging lightly through the hubbub of the C-Sec headquarters. The protoss presence no longer looked as heavy as it did four months ago, only a single zealot standing watch on an above balcony, scanning the crowds with a keen eye and a keener mind. Jim nodded up to the warrior as he passed under him, wondering when the last protoss would finally leave the station. The way Artanis and Zeratul would have it, never, but every day of peace weakens their argument. Gotta let go, guys. Listen to Raszagal.

But that was all above his paygrade now. It wouldn't matter once he left the Citadel for perhaps the last time. It's certainly lost its luster. Don't think I can stomach hitting any more sushi bars or night clubs. Time to settle down.

The Spectre offices lay beneath the C-Sec headquarters, almost as if it were skulking. Jim headed down the ramp and rounded a corner, coming abruptly face to face with a bulkhead. Two cameras on either side of it fixed on his figure, and he waved airily back to them. The heavy doors slid open only moments later. Sarah Kerrigan and Garrus Vakarian waited on the other side, making Jim wonder if she had been expecting him. Wait. Telepath.

"Still not used to it, Jim?" Sarah's smile looked a bit tense, but that was understandable. Didn't realize the damage I did when I walked away, darlin', but I still don't regret it. It all worked out for the best in the end. "Some things don't really change, huh?"

"Beg to differ, darlin'. Can't remember feelin' this happy." He stepped forward, nodding to Garrus. "Good to see you, Garrus. How's full Spectredom treatin' ya?"

"Feels about the same as partial Spectredom. They still make me buy my own guns." Garrus took Jim's hand and shook it. "Can't say you missed out on much, refusing to take this job again. Getting some real disturbing reports out of the Terminus…" Garrus paused, and then waved it off. "…but you don't want to hear about that, I guess. Back to being a cop, I hear?" Garrus laughed. "I was a cop once … maybe you should have accepted Spectrehood."

"Maybe." Jim released his grip and turned to Sarah, whose expression he could not discern. "Hey."

"Hey." Sarah's eyes went downcast. "Wish you would stay and help. But … you seem so happy, thinking this is over. Everyone does."

"I wouldn't mind an actual victory once in a while, Sarah." Jim sighed, the shade of guilt and doubt suddenly rearing its ugly head within him again. "Look…"

"It can't be this easy," replied Sarah stubbornly, suddenly looking Jim straight in the eye. "And I know what you'll say – "tell that to Ashley Williams, to Charles Pressly, to Kelly Chambers and Praetor Fenix." Their deaths weren't in vain, Jim, but they certainly did not seal our victory."

"They sealed mine, darlin'." Jim grunted, glancing back the way he came. "Look – I came here to say goodbye and wish you both well, which I do. But I ain't budgin' on this. Galaxy looks in good shape for a change, leastways for as an idiot like me can tell. Maybe everything's fallin' apart behind the scenes and I can't see it, but I can't keep drivin' myself that way. I've killed enough people. Seen enough friends die."

"And I pray you don't see any more. Goodbye, Jim." Sarah extended her hand, when really all Jim wanted to do was give her a hug and tell her it was going to be okay. He instead shook it stiffly, the happy feelings dying a little in his chest. Then she stepped back, waiting for Jim to turn away.

"Make sure she don't kill herself over nothin', Garrus," said Jim, staring the turian right in the eye. "And if I'm wrong and she's right … watch her back, you got me?"

"Sometimes she turns invisible and it gets a little difficult, but I'll do my best." Garrus smiled at him, and it at least looked genuine. It made Jim feel a little better as he turned around and walked away, the bulkhead slamming shut behind him.

Jim wished he could feel surprise as he saw Zeratul waiting for him at the top of the ramp, but again, telepath. A small part of Jim could not help but note the complete lack of attention the various civilians and C-Sec officers gave Zeratul as they passed him by – for better or for worse, people had become acclimatized to the protoss.

"Good to see you, man." Jim stopped before the Dark Templar, trying to guess what "dire portent" he would try on him this time.

"James Raynor. You seem committed to peace, no matter the cost." Zeratul shifted, his cloak rasping against his neck as he did. "Would that I follow your example. The Matriarch bids us leave this place and allow the other races to develop as they choose … yet I cannot shake the specter of the collector base from my mind, nor the countless other shades that haunt me. My traitor brothers. The words of Duran. The Shadow Broker."

Jim folded his arms. "You got anything conclusive, man? 'Cuz I was lookin' to say goodbye, not argue about a maybe apocalypse. I just did that, it sucked."

"No … I will not trouble your spirit, not when it is higher than I have ever seen it before." Zeratul bowed before Jim, making him feel a touch uncomfortable, especially as a few people did stop and stare at this display. "Live well, James Raynor. You will be forever welcome on Shakuras."

Huh. That would be a place to take the kids, if kids ever become part of the equation. He had brought it up once to Miranda a few weeks ago, but she hadn't seemed receptive. Well, plenty of time for that to change, maybe.

"Adun toridas, Prelate." Jim inclined his head. "If you see Tali or Legion, let 'em know I said hi."

Zeratul vanished from sight, something Jim might once have exclaimed at, and now he just knew it as how Zeratul ended conversations. Just leaves the UED crew. He returned to the elevator, this time echoing Matt and pressing the button for the Presidium. Bit of a walk from where I'll be, but what the hell. My legs don't hurt today.

The hanar and drell might have left the Citadel behind, but the crowds of aliens looked more diverse than ever. Batarians and turians chatted amiably at restaurant tables, being served drinks by terrans and asari. Protoss still strode proud and tall through the crowds, sometimes stopping to answer the questions of passersby, no matter how inane, their golden armor shining in the simulated sun.

Quarians and geth now dotted the Presidium as well, although never together, unfortunately. The geth units now bore strange runes and golden inscriptions on their chassis, part of their ongoing spiritual assimilation with the protoss or whatever the hell it could be considered. The quarians on the other hand mostly partnered with each other, asari, or terrans, but at least the conversations Jim overheard seemed amiable.

Of course, there was also the UED, the odd duck in galactic affairs. He had yet to see a man of them out of uniform when they hit the town, and their conversations with their terran counterparts always seemed so brief and stilted. Probably still just growin' used to the state of things. Anderson and his people at least had adjusted.

When he finally arrived at the Presidium ambassador offices, it was to an argument. Commander Shepard talked in loud and clear tones to some poor lower ranking officer, who clutched a datapad tightly in both hands, his face white.

"I'm going to need more explanation than that, soldier!" she said, somehow towering over the man who had about seven inches of height on her. "I made a case, a damn good one, and I know the Admiral personally. He would not deny my request without telling me why. Well?"

"I don't know, ma'am!" babbled the soldier, stepping back. "I'm sorry, that's all I've got."

"Don't shoot the messenger, Shepard." Jim nodded to the soldier, who gulped and made a stealthy run for it as Shepard turned back to scowl at him. "What's the problem?"

"Asked for a posting on Tuchanka," she said, teeth gritted. Looks so tiny out of her suit … so easy to forget. "Figured I'd be a good fit, seeing as I know Wrex and Grunt personally, and I know they've been transferring shit tons of medics there." She raised her arms in consternation. "Citadel's nice, but there's not much for me to do on the Normandy, and the artificiality of it … grates, after a while. It doesn't feel like you're in space."

Jim looked up at the simulated sky on the ceiling, catching a few snippets of artificial birdsong as he did so. "Yeah, I can get your point. So, you didn't get the posting?"

"I didn't get a response for the longest time until today." Shepard balled her fist. "Request denied. That's all Stukov had for me. Now, okay, normally I'd respect the chain of command, but seeing as we seem to be stuck away from home with no sign of returning in the near future, I'd really appreciate a little more than "request denied."" She stopped and took a deep breath. "Sorry. Shouldn't have taken it out on that poor corporal."

"Maybe you could try going through Anderson?" asked Jim, pointing up the stairs to his office. Shepard just shook her head.

"He's got enough to worry about, acting as the de facto UED council member. I don't need him sticking his neck out for me, after everything he's done." Shepard sighed. "Wrex and Grunt haven't been returning my emails either. It's frustrating. Thought I had made some friends there. Guess not."

"Give it some time. Tuchanka might not have the best extranet terminals." Jim glanced up the stairs again. "I'm headin' out tomorrow. To Eden Prime."

"Parting is such sweet sorrow." To Jim's surprise, Shepard put her arms around him and hugged tightly. "Least somebody's going home. Promise to keep in touch? Every time you don't reply to an email I scream at a corporal…"

"I'm sure I'll have plenty of free time to keep up on my correspondence." Jim squeezed back and then pulled away, smiling. "If you see Jenkins and Alenko, let 'em know they're always welcome for a beer round my place."

"You say that now, but you should see the way Jenkins mooches…" Shepard saluted. "A pleasure serving with you, Mr. Raynor. You're all right … for a backwards colonial."

"And you're all right for a raging fascist, ma'am."

The two parted ways with a laugh, and Jim stepped up the stairs. David Anderson's office did not wait far beyond.

Jim knocked on the door and waited. He didn't hear any voices on the other side, but that could just mean he was dealing with his newest and least favorite enemy: paperwork. He waited patiently, wondering if he should have called ahead.

The door retracted and a disheveled Rear Admiral Anderson blinked at him.

"Jim! Thank the human spirit, thought you were Udina or Aldaris." He motioned for Jim to enter, which he did. "Heard you're finally heading home. Have a seat."

"Thanks, Admiral." Behind David's desk stretched a balcony that overlooked the Presidium in all its glory, skycars whizzing by and waters shimmering below. Jim took a seat before David's desk, waiting for the man to join him. After a few moments David sat with a sigh, snapping his laptop screen down and shaking his head.

A faint draft issued from it into the stuffy office where Jim suspected David spent far too much time for his liking.

"I know Udina's under a lot of strain representing three different nations in one, but he shouldn't have to take it out on me." David rubbed the stubble atop his shaven head. "I'm certainly not craving any more ground ops after our last one, but I sure as hell didn't come out all this way to play politician. It sure as hell wasn't covered in the manual. And Stukov's demands-" He stopped himself, and Jim looked away, trying to indicate that none of this was of interest or importance to him. Which frankly, it ain't.

"He thinks I'm getting too comfortable with aliens and colonials," said David. "He might be right. Pretend you didn't hear that. I know I do important work and am happy to serve."

"But off the record you're all frustrated as hell and want to go home." Jim gave him a sympathetic smile. "You're a rear admiral. Has to be something you can do."

"Make noise. Make a lot of noise." David stood, motioning for Jim to rise with him. They walked together to the balcony, palms pressed against its edge, taking in the sights and smells. "Hasn't worked so far. Heard Shepard's transfer request went denied, and I couldn't get any information on why that was." He glanced at Jim. "Don't tell her I did that for her, or that I knew already. She doesn't need to know."

"You got it." Jim stared out over the Presidium. "Sorry to hear about all that. It's uh, it's my last day here."

"Good. Get out of here before they somehow make a politician out of you." David laughed and clapped Jim on the back. "We had a dossier on you, you know. Before we came out here. I read your history; it's astounding what you and your crew survived. The fact that you get to walk away and live a happy life afterwards…" David shook his head. "Perhaps the UED is wrong. Perhaps there might be a God. I know Williams thought so."

"Really?" Jim looked to David, whose jaw was now set, his eyes staring straight ahead at the horizon, unblinking. Looks hard like he's trying not to think. "I know she spent a lot of time with Trome. Thought you were above that stuff."

"Most of us, Raynor, most of us." David sucked in a breath and returned his gaze. "Keep that to yourself. If I ever get around to writing some scandalous autobiography, I plan to leak that particular fact as proof that one can believe in a higher power and still kick ass. Miss Williams was a UED marine to her dying breath, and one of the few Earth Christians left, besides. The two were not mutually exclusive to her."

They stood there in silence for a moment.

"Think your government will eventually ease up about some of this shit?" Jim did not dare look at David as he asked this. "I mean – I saw some religious crazies back on Mar Sara, but most folks just wanna be left alone to believe what they will. Can't believe you guys banned it…"

"When we get home I intend to do my utmost. A much louder retirement than yours." David smiled at him, and extended an ungloved hand. Jim shook it firmly. "But that is for another day, if one that I hope is close at hand. If the universe is kind, we may meet again, Jim."

"I woulda laughed at that once. "If the universe is kind."" Jim shook his head, smiling. "But now … I dunno. It can get better at least. Godspeed, Admiral."

Jim left David's office behind with a strange heaviness in his heart. Harder than I thought to say goodbye to some of these folks, even if it's only likely temporary. He tried to whistle a merry tune as he walked back to his ship and his home for so many years, but it just sounded wrong. Silence is fine. When he entered the elevator and turned around to punch the numbers, he took one last look at the colorful Presidium before it disappeared behind the doors.

"Who knows. Might visit again sometime." Jim nodded to himself. Yeah. Why not?

A familiar salarian waited for him at the departure lounge, one who had taken care of him during his very first stay at the Citadel, in fact.

"Woulda thought you'd be long gone by now, Mordin." Jim cocked his head and extended a hand as he approached, ready for one last unexpected, but entirely welcome goodbye.

"Had to come back. Urgent personal matter." Mordin checked behind Jim, but the departure lounge was empty. "Urgent! Require assistance, but afraid to ask! Afraid to impose."

"We're all friends here." Jim shrugged. "You've fixed up my legs, what? Two, three times now? Try me."

"Old acquaintance, somewhere on Tuchanka." Jim cocked an eyebrow. "Partner, assistant … apprentice, of a sort. Maelon Haplorn. Kidnapped! Or at least, held on krogan homeworld. Reliable source, Major Kirrahe. You have met. Attempted to reach Tuchanka – access blocked by UED!"

"Everyone's tryin' to get to Tuchanka all of a sudden." Jim folded his arms. "Not sure I can help you with that. UED sure as hell won't let me through, if Shepard can't even get a posting there."

"Heard rumors." Mordin's voice dropped an octave. "Pirates in Terminus. Slave takers. Grab batarians, salarians, turians … occasionally some vorcha … take them to Tuchanka. Not sure why. Dislike implications. Fear violations of Citadel law. Or worse."

This ain't your business. Jim felt the awful urge to just walk away, but Mordin had sought him out. It only seemed fair to at least listen.

"Know of at risk areas for capture. Aware of own value as target. Fear of being watched. STG less responsive. Possible internal sabotage? Unclear. Dalatrasses silent. Multiple requests for retirement. Require transport to Terminus in safe, uncompromised vessel."

"One last run for the Norad II?" Jim stroked his beard. "This ain't gonna put any of what's left of my crew at risk, right?"

"No pirate dare attack battlecruiser, let alone battlecruiser of Norad II's size." Mordin sucked in a quick breath. "No government dare disappear either of us, when entire galaxy worships ground we work on. Guarantee safety of your crew. Own safety? Irrelevant, must discover Tuchanka happenings. Will relay information to you, if feel relevant."

"If you say so," said Jim, feeling increasingly like this was a bad idea. "You uh, you sure about this? Not sure the UED's going to take kindly to you pokin' around in their affairs."

"Not certain will approve of UED affairs." Mordin took in deep breath. "If modification of Genophage … if unethical modification of Genophage … will take very unkindly indeed."

"Well, I got nothin' against this." Jim patted Mordin on the shoulder. "Get your things and get on board. We head out at eight in the morning tomorrow."

"Understood." Mordin hurried off to the elevator and Jim returned to his ship, head full of doubts again.

When he entered his quarters, it was to find a disheveled Miranda packing a suitcase, much to his dismay.

"Hope you were plannin' on sayin' goodbye, darlin'." Jim leaned against the door frame, arms crossed.

"Don't be ridiculous. Of course I was." The clothes flew into the open suitcase in a heap of unusual disorder for Miranda. "Fresh news from Umojan space. They've spotted Duran."

"Or someone who just looks like him." Jim shook his head. "Darlin', seems like that man knows how to disappear. If he shows up, it's because it's either someone else, or he wanted to be found. The first one's a waste of time, the second's probably a trap. You absolutely sure-"

"I will not be bested by that perpetually smiling cretin!" Miranda slammed the suitcase shut and stared fiercely up at Jim. "I made a promise that I would hunt him down if he ever fully went rogue, and that day came and went."

"And he made a promise to me that he wouldn't hurt you if it came to this," said Jim quietly. "I hope he's a person of his word, just like you."

"The man lied with every other breath – the only difficulty is discerning what, precisely, were the lies!" Miranda pulled her hair into a quick ponytail and slipped her laptop into a small bag. "Deals with hanar and drell … even Zeratul could not figure the man out! He worked for us for almost seven years – what if it was just to sabotage us from within somehow? Who was he? What did he want? We have to know. I have to know."

Miranda pulled up her bags, one in each arm, and strode across the room, dropping them just before reaching Jim. She reached up and pulled his head down. Their lips met and her mouth opened, and Jim tried to tell himself that his was not another goodbye.

Despite obviously being in a hurry, Miranda did not pull away for quite some time, running her hand through Jim's hair while the other held on to his back. When she did finally part from him it was slowly, with a grim smile on her face.

"Don't you go running off while I finish this," she said, voice low. "And don't think I don't value what we have. It's just … I will not accept defeat. Not from him."

"I understand." Jim squeezed her shoulder. "And my runnin' days are over. Just don't do anything too crazy, alright?"

Miranda cocked her head. "I thought we long ago agreed that you were the crazy one?" And with that she gave him one last kiss and grabbed her bags, walking as fast as she could with ninety pounds of clothing, weaponry, and electronic equipment as she could.

"One last run," said Jim, watching her disappear around the corner. "Then home … home for good."