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When Chase Graves called any given soldier to his office, it was nerve-wracking. But only Major and Justin knew exactly how much more fraught with peril any interview with the boss could be for Major; anything out of the ordinary that happened at Fillmore Graves was a chance for him to be outed as a human and lose the last of what made his life worth living.

As he pushed open the glass doors of Graves' office, Major tried not to think about it. He was convinced Graves could smell weakness, and that was an odor Major couldn't afford to give off. "You wanted to see me, sir?" he asked, keeping his voice deliberately casual.

"Major." Graves didn't look up from the computer monitor in front of him, waving Major at the chair on the other side of the desk. "Sit. Join me for lunch." There was a faint smile on Graves' face as he popped open a box on his desk. A box full of brain tubes. Disgusting as those things had looked when he was a zombie, they were downright revolting now that he was human again.

But he took the tube Graves tossed onto the desk in front of him because he couldn't afford not to.

"Mm. You haven't lived until you've had these gourmet brain tubes made especially for the top brass." The faint smile had moved up to Graves' eyes, as though there was a joke he was privy to that Major wasn't.

With an effort, Major brought the tube to his mouth and choked down a swallow. It tasted like death. Like decay and rot and slime. But he swallowed, because he had to, and even managed to nod as though it tasted okay.

"See? Now you know. We eat the same nasty brain sludge as everyone else."

That was the joke? Apparently that was the joke. Major forced a laugh. "Well, I never doubted it, sir. Just not hungry," he added, putting the unfinished brain tube on the desk.

"Hm." They stared at each other across the desk. Then Graves motioned to the monitor in front of him, which was facing away from Major so he couldn't see what was on the screen. "The internet, huh? Weird to think there was a time people didn't post all the details of their lives for everyone to see."

"Yes, sir. I remember it. Vaguely." Major's pulse was racing. This had to be about Shawna. Damn it.

The next words confirmed it. "You take this shameless local girl, for instance. 'Sex Tent: A Haiku.'"

Major winced.

But Graves wasn't done. He read the whole poem. "'We built a sex tent/ We did it in the sex tent/ Then we did it some more.'" He waved his hand as though trying to find words that would adequately express his thoughts. "Not even a proper haiku, is it?"

He turned the monitor toward Major. Yep. There it was. The picture of him in bed with Shawna, the texts between them, posted without his permission. "Sir, I ended that."

"Wise—but not the point. From Shawna's ramblings it seems you had an intimate relationship with a human, and she did not turn into a zombie. So. Either you discovered a revolutionary form of prophylaxis … or you're human."

In the silence that followed, Major considered trying to bluff, but there was no chance that would be successful. He let his gaze fall, confirming his superior's suspicions.

"Anyone else here know this?"

"No one, sir." He wasn't about to drag Justin into this. For once, his problems were going to remain his problems. "Look, I just wanted to serve."

"What you want doesn't matter! What matters is that you put zombies at risk every time you went out in the field. That's not something I can allow to continue. You're no longer an employee of Fillmore Graves, effective immediately."

It was what Major had expected, but the emptiness that filled him at the words was deeper and more hollow than he had imagined it could be. He leaned forward. "Sir, I am sorry. I … Put me at a desk. I'll mop the floor. It's just … this is my family."

For a moment, it looked like Graves was actually considering alternatives. Bu then he stood up and held out his hand. "Thank you for your service."

If it had been Vivian Stoll, Major might have thought he had a chance if he continued to argue. But Chase Graves was a marble statue, and you couldn't argue with marble. He shook Graves' hand and left the office.

He was fortunate security wasn't frog-marching him out of the building, Major reflected as he opened his locker and began gathering his things. It was a sign of respect, and he appreciated it, even if he would have preferred to be respected by being allowed to keep his job.

Leaving the room, he took a brief final look around. No point in lingering, really. This part of his life was over. So many parts of his life had ended over the course of the last few years, he thought he really ought to be used to it by now—and he really, really wasn't.

In the hallway, he saw several members of his team coming back from exercises. They fell silent as they saw him, stopping in the middle of the hall in front of him.

Stoll looked down his nose, warily. "So, is it true?" He came closer. "You're human?"

"Yeah." Major wasn't going to be intimidated. Yesterday—hell, an hour ago—these had been his friends. "I'm sorry."

"What'd I always say?" A glimmer of a smile came into Stoll's eyes. "Major Lilywhite is a bad man." As he reached to clasp Major's hand, the others murmured their agreement.

"The stuff you did and you're not even bullet-proof?"

"Sucks, man," Justin said. "You might be human, but you're one of the good ones."

"We're not gonna let you go quietly, man," Stoll told him. "You're gonna get a proper send-off. Squad house, Friday, farewell bash for the ages: You in?"

"I'm in!" Hell, yeah, he was. He was filled with gratitude and relief as they all surrounded him, laughing.