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"We must accept finite disappointment, but never lose infinite hope."

~Martin Luther King Jr.

Chapter Sixty: The Eternal Watch

"Hi, older me. I haven't done one of these in a while. I just need someone to talk to, and of all people, I guess you probably know me the best."

Edward Gallant paused by the open doorway. He leaned hard on his cane, just listening and relishing the feel of Avenger pitching in the turbulence under him.

"Everyone's gearing up for some kind of mission. It looks like it'll be a big one. Probably more coming on its wake. I don't get told a lot anymore, not since I got bumped down to janitorial duty, but from what I hear..." Mariah's voice trailed off. "It's going to be a mess.

"And I wish Central would let me be a part of it."

Gallant advanced. He slowly made his way to the door, and he leaned in it, in clear view. If that made him pause the playback...

It didn't. "I've done wrong. I've made mistakes. Maybe I deserved to be taken off active duty. Maybe I didn't. I don't know, Older Me: it's all a jumble and it's all confusing. I can't sort out how much of it is me being selfish and teenage...and how much might really be that Central doesn't know what he's doing. I don't really have anyone to help me, either." Another long sigh: Gallant watched Mariah's face contort on the datapad lying on the room's end table. "I think I made a mistake. I shouldn't have left the Haven...I shouldn't have tracked down Avenger, or tried, at least. I shouldn't have thrown myself into all this just because I thought I could make a difference like my father..." She cut herself off. "But that doesn't matter now. None of it.

"What matters is that I'm going to do good. Whatever it takes. Whatever comes up, whatever opportunities arise...I'm going to do good. No matter what it takes."

"She was brave, John. Brave like you." Gallant watched him as he reached for the datapad - whether to restart the recording or shut it off, who knew.

"Brave." Bradford's eyes were heavy. The answer to Gallant's question turned out to be neither, because he just admired his daughter's face for a moment in the final freeze-frame of the video diary. Bradford poured another shot from the bottle on his nightstand, and he drained it immediately. "What do you want, sir?"

Gallant sighed. "Board game night, John. Tygan's back on his feet, even if he's getting around a lot like me about now. So we're all-"

"No, Commander." Bradford poured another drink. "Have your little party without me."

Gallant's eyes narrowed. "You can't hide in your room forever, John."

"Leave it, Edward." His eyes glittered dangerously. "You have no idea what it feels like."

"John, we've all lost people lately. Moira-"

"You think that compares?" Bradford threw himself to his feet. "Lovers die every day, Edward! She was supposed to bury me, not the other way around!" He wavered. "I wasn't supposed to...I was horrible to her..." He downed that next shot. "If I'd just been a better father..."

Gallant stared. He stared, and his fingers tightened on the grip of his cane.

"What the fuck, John?" Gallant propped himself up, and liquid rage seared up from his core. "She fucking died for us and you still can't cut her a break, can you?"

"Watch your mouth!" Bradford loomed in front of him. "Get out-"

"You think she died because Daddy never hugged her? You think the only reason she marched off to her death was because of you?" Gallant hissed through his teeth, eyes bulging with fury. "Don't you malign her memory like that! She wanted your love and she wanted your approval, yeah, but at the end of the day, she believed in the same shit we all signed up for!"

"I was horrible to her!" Bradford turned away, storming from one end of his room to the other. "I put her down, insulted her, demeaned her, I couldn't see the good in her-"

"And you still don't! Stop making this about you!" Gallant jabbed his cane into Bradford's chest. "Mariah was a strong-willed, brave young lady who wanted to see a free earth. That's why she joined up, not to win herself your love. Did you show it? Fucking hell no, and you should have, and I should have come in here to kick your ass about it a lot fucking sooner! But at the end of the day, she was a soldier, and she chose to give her life for what she believed in - not for the man who didn't believe in her!"

Bradford took a step his way - and Gallant stuck a warning finger under his nose.

"Don't even." He thrust his cane into the deck challengingly. "You remember what happened in the bar when you were in your prime, John. I may be a wreck, but you couldn't take me young and sober. You really want to get your ass kicked when you're old and drunk?"

"So what? You want me to ignore my role in Mariah's death? Come play board games with you when my daughter is six feet under?"

"You can't change what's happened, John. If you dwell on it, you're going to wreck yourself. All you can do is move forward and not make the same mistakes again." Gallant shook his head. "We're all going to have to learn how to move on from what's happened in the last few weeks. Don't be such an asshole that you think your pain is the only agony on this ship. Don't repeat my mistakes."

He turned on his heel and limped away. Before he'd even made it halfway down the corridor, he heard Bradford pouring another shot.

"Hi, older me..."

Lily Shen sat in silence, turning a bolt over in her fingers. She liked the feel of rough metal: sharp and hard, yes, but it reminded her she didn't have to be the be-all and end-all of the world to be a part of it.

Her eyes drifted back to that spot against the wall. No blood marked it, not anymore, but Lily would never be able to sit in Engineering again without remembering.

"Lily."

"Huh?" She blinked, then glanced at the terminal at her side. "Oh. Julian."

"You did what was necessary." His red face flickered with a few golden streams: his way of showing emotions he didn't possess. "She would have killed you just as surely."

"That doesn't make it right. I..." Lily pulled her legs up into the chair, hugging her knees. "I should have seen it sooner. I should have done something...said something...if we'd only found out-"

"You're only going to drive yourself mad."

"I'm pretty close already." Lily looked away. "She wasn't here by choice. Her parents - my aunt and uncle, Julian, and her son...I have a nephew..."

"We'll find them. Together."

"That won't make it right!" Lily shook. "She was family, Julian. The only family I had left."

"I'm still here."

Lily's neck nearly cracked as she turned. She examined those red lines of code, and even if the face was the same...something was different.

"..and so the prodigal child finally returns?" She paused to wipe at her eyes, but forced a smile anyway.

"Perhaps." He might have sounded amused. "And I intend to stay."

"Good." Lily looked up over the terminal, and her eyes traced Junior, dormant in the far corner. "You know, for the longest time, I thought he was all I had left of Dad."

"That body was meant for me." Julian's face flickered for a moment. "It's what I was created for."

"Maybe." Lily's eyes moved to the other end of Engineering, and the construction unit hard at work. "I think you'll like the Mark Two just as well when I finish uploading you."

"God damn you for being late, you prune-faced bastard." And then Volk threw his arms wide and seized Geist in a bear hug of an embrace. "And bless you for coming! We were about to throw rocks at them."

"I bet you were, Konstantine." Geist awkwardly patted his back. "You should be thanking Janet, not me. She was the one who-"

"Oh, no!" Janet cleared her throat as all eyes turned to her. "No, not at all. I just said what everyone was already thinking - Geist included. He would have come to the same conclusion either way. Just maybe a minute or two later."

"Which would have been too late." Betos offered her hand, and Janet took it, trying not to avoid the alien's orange eyes. "My kind owe yours a debt, Janet Ross."

"It's...it's nothing, really..."

"Ignore her. It was all her and she should endure your gratitude." Anne smiled when Janet hissed in her direction. "She's one of the best."

"Well, you'd better be." Volk released Geist, and now he offered Janet a more subdued handshake. "Commander Gallant has expressed interest in Templar liaisons, and he mentioned you by name, Ross."

"Say what-"

"I think it is a most agreeable arrangement. Certainly Janet is a warrior at heart, and I trust her with my life." Geist nodded. "It will be so: and I will leave Anne here with her as well. Two is better than one."

"So you're joining the Resistance now?" Betos crossed her arms, giving Geist a long once-over. "I thought you didn't work with my kind?"

"Things have...changed." He cleared his throat. "We have a common enemy: the greatest uniting factor in the history of mankind. So long as Advent reigns over this world, we cannot sit idle and do nothing. What feuds we have can wait until then."

"Hm." Volk gave Betos a glance. "I hear an echo."

"As do I. As a starting place, it is satisfactory." She nodded firmly. "Welcome aboard."

Cameron Rogers gently nudged his bishop. "Check."

"Oh, nice." Fatima scoffed a moment later. "And unwise."

"What?" Cameron sucked in breath as her knight flew in to take the bishop in question...and proceeded to fork his queen and king in the process. With a sigh, he nudged his king out of the way, and she pounced. "This is why I don't play a lot of chess."

"We did a lot of it back in the First War. I'm surprised Central isn't still riding everyone about it. He said it taught strategic thinking. And Chilong loves to..." Her eyes darkened quickly.

"I'm sorry, Fatima." Cameron looked away.

"It's fine." She inhaled slowly. "It's just...I keep thinking I'll see him. Him and Annette...Said..." Fatima brushed her hair back, studying the board very intently. "I'm the last one left. The Doctor's organization's gone: every last bit of it."

Cameron watched her for a moment as she visibly debated castling. "You're still here. And we'll be with you until the end."

"Vigilo Confido, I suppose." Fatima glanced back up at him. "Are you moving today, Moose?"

"What?" Cameron blinked...then glanced down at the board. "Um. Well. It seems my men are outnumbered and outmanned. So-"

"So you need an air strike is what you're saying, huh?" A fly swatter hit Fatima's pieces, flinging them left and right with zeal. "Kamikaze!"

"Firebrand!" Cameron jumped in his seat. "You should be resting-"

"My name is nice, you should use it." Lilah gave him a very searching look. "And I'll rest when I want to and I don't want to right now. You're not man enough to make me do a damn thing."

"Uh..."

"I'm taking him, Tariq." She clapped Fatima on the shoulder. "Just a quick word, then you can kick his ass a few more times." She glanced across the room to Julie and Sylvie, quietly talking over a little brown box. "Maybe one of the psi-lesbians will play with you until then." She took Cameron's arm. "Come on, Moose!"

"I'm coming!" He stumbled to his feet. "See you around, Fatima."

"Cameron." She waved him off, busy reassembling the board almost without looking. Cameron thought she seemed a little less morose, and that was good.

"There's been too much misery on this ship since the battle," he muttered as he fell into step at Firebrand's elbow.

"Yeah. Spirits tend to go down when..." She coughed. "Yeah."

"Do you want me to come with you?" Sylvie asked, as they passed her and Julie's table. Julie rose, taking the box and shaking her head.

"No. I think if she sees the two of us both..." She sighed. "It's probably better not to remind her what she's lost, I think."

"Come on!" Firebrand didn't let go of Cameron's hand, and she tugged him off down a side passage. He stumbled in her wake, catching Sylvie give Julie a peck on the cheek and nuzzle her head into her shoulder for a minute. He missed where the redhead went from there...but after a minute, he supposed there was only one real possibility.

"You seem awfully chipper," Cameron observed as Firebrand tugged him along, practically skipping, "for a pilot without a bird."

"Don't remind me of that!" She scowled. "It won't matter anyway. It won't be a problem for long."

"I don't know where we're going to find another-"

"We'll build it, dumbass: Shen and I, like we did the first one." She laughed at his expression. "What? You thought I'd crash my baby without a backup plan?"

"To be honest, yes."

"Well, I would, but not this one time." She found what was apparently the door she was looking for. "Come on!"

"I'm coming!" Cameron followed her in: followed her into a little room that might have once been a small storage unit, that now had very little in it.

Very little except Da-Xia Liang, arms crossed in the corner.

"Liang!" Cameron hesitated. "I mean...Captain!"

"Lieutenant." She eyed him very seriously...him and Firebrand too. Cameron swallowed.

"Um..."

"This should be good." Firebrand let him go, and she took up position just at Liang's side, mimicking her pose. "Yes, Moose?"

"I..." He tugged at his collar. "I didn't...Lilah kissed me, I didn't..."

"So you're choosing her?" Firebrand jerked her thumb at the Grenadier.

"I didn't say-"

"So you're choosing her?" Liang mirrored her. Cameron jumped.

"Wait just a minute...I don't even know what's happening here-"

"Look at him go!" Firebrand's expression broke, and a wide grin stretched her cheeks. "He's turning as red as a berserker!"

"Stay serious." Liang elbowed her in the ribs. "I know that's hard for you-"

"I'm never serious-"

"What is even happening?" Cameron resisted the urge to pull at his hair. "I didn't mean to lead anyone on, I swear - you both were the ones to kiss me, and-"

"Poor boy." Firebrand leaned back on her heels. "I don't think he gets it."

"You're not explaining anything-"

"No, he's really quite lost." Liang nodded judiciously. "I think we should clarify the situation."

"Indeed. Ladies first?"

"No, ladies first. I insist."

"Oh, very well." Firebrand leaned over-

-and gave Liang a peck on the cheek.

"...what." Cameron blinked slowly. "That...didn't explain anything at all."

"We got to talking," Firebrand said, beaming as she recovered, "just two nights ago. You've been chasing me for a while."

"I wouldn't say-"

"Shut up, Cameron." Liang gave him a gentle whack on the arm. "I saw you two kiss. Lilah checked the hangar feed and saw us."

"I'm not two-timing either of you...you both were the ones to-"

"We know." Firebrand nodded genially. "See, we both like you. And after we ruled out a duel to the death-"

"-we never discussed any such thing-"

"-it occurred to us that we were really making a big issue out of nothing, because we quite like each other too." Firebrand tilted her head to the side. "So we thought we'd spare you some trouble and just sort the whole thing out ourselves."

"So, here we are, with no issue." Liang spread her hands, grinning. "That is, unless you feel the need to pick only one of us?"

Cameron lost his voice. They laughed at that too, for a good long while.

Jane Kelly lay in the darkness, still and silent. Her hair fell freely over her pillow, and her ballcap lay on her nightstand, untouched. She'd even left her datapad overtop of it, right next to her discarded shirt and the toothbrush she hadn't used in days.

The steady hum of the engines was her world.

"Jane?" Someone knocked on her door. "Jane, are you in there?"

"Go away, Aileen."

"I don't think you need to be alone."

Jane let out a slow breath, then turned her head away from the door. "I'm not decent."

"As if you ever are." The door hissed open, and Jane ignored it and the creeping light that tried to tint her world when it did. That didn't help: Aileen hit the overhead light as soon as she came in, and Jane had to squeeze her eyes shut or die.

"Lord, Irish!" Aileen did something over by her nightstand: Jane heard her drawers opening. "Fold your clothes!" She paused, then sniffed. "Has this even been washed?"

"No."

"That's no good. James wouldn't have approved." Irina limped in, taking a seat down at the foot of Jane's bed without asking. Her organic fingers reached out to touch Jane's palm. "How are you doing?"

"Fine. Just fine." She didn't react to the touch. Gray piled in at her edges. What was the point?

"You've been locked in your room since you got the new pin."

"I'm tired." Jane hoped Aileen would take the hint. "Just tired. Resting. I was shot."

"Jane?"

That punched through her drab cloud. She sat up next to Irina, eyes turning to the door. Her gaze seared into her third visitor: the one whom the doors closed behind.

"I..." Julie proffered a little brown box. "I made cupcakes."

"You blew my synapses. You...you..." Jane's eye twitched.

"I saved your life." Julie looked down. "I'm sorry."

"You should be." Jane wanted to slap her. Jane wanted to do a lot more than that: rage bubbled up and over out of the mire of her world in one sudden flash. "He died alone because of you!"

"Jane!" Aileen caught her shoulder as she tried to rise. "Don't be a bitch to Julie. She did the right thing."

Jane quivered. Hot, angry words flew into her mouth: in the depths of her rage, she wanted nothing more than to tear Julie down and apart. Every insult she could imagine, every low blow right into her insecurities...

They didn't matter. None of them mattered, because as fast as the rage came...

Jane burst into tears, dropping her head into her hands. She convulsed as her nose clogged, her hair flicking around and getting into her eyes by black magic she wouldn't understand even if she wasn't preoccupied. The temperate cool inside Avenger was suddenly Arctic chill, and Jane did her level best to curl up into a ball tight enough to ward off the wreaking tremors borne of knowing there was no one left to hold her while she worked through it.

Breathing was hard. She sucked air in with ragged gulps, stolen between explosions of misery. Death was all she could see, and David's face...the face she would never see again, because now she was alone in life with nothing but this bloody hole where her heart ought to be...

Gradually, she realized that wasn't entirely so.

"Easy does it." Aileen sat at her left, patting her shoulder. "Let it out. You've been bottling it all up too long."

"You'll be all right, Jane." Irina waited at her right, studying her through hooded eyes. "You've pulled through loss before."

"I didn't...I don't..." Jane let out a wail, one loud enough even she wanted to wince. No words were enough.

"He's gone." Those were the only ones that mattered anymore. "He's gone...he's gone..."

"He is." Aileen's eyes glinted too, but her voice didn't break, and that steadiness was something Jane clung to. "But you're not, Jane."

"I should be-"

"What you're dealing with is called survivor's guilt - and you've been through enough hits from it that you should know it's full of shit." Julie offered her box of cupcakes again. "We're here for you."

"It should have been me. If it had been me..."

"If it had been you, it'd be David ugly crying all the way around the ship." Aileen wrapped her arm fully around Jane's shoulders. "You just be a wreck, alright? Some way or another, we'll find our way through the mess."

Elena Dragunova watched the hangar bay from her high perch, eyes cold as she scanned hurrying techs and flight crew. Her gaze wandered a bit further afield, and she had to sigh when she took in the little trio clustered in the corner.

"Meysam isn't taking Mariah's death well."

"I would not expect him to." Pratal Mox also watched, and his eyes shone with a very human understanding of grief and loss. "It is good that he has his friends."

"They'll help him pull through." Elena leaned back against the wall, reaching into her trench coat. "Cigarette?"

"I appreciate the thought, but no."

"Suit yourself, alien." Elena lit up in silence, relishing the drag of poison in her lungs. Yeah, sure, it would kill her eventually - but she could die from a stray mag-round or even a weak bolt in the scaffolding below her. Who cared about a maybe-someday?

Below them, Meysam turned away from Nui and Kang, trying without success to hide his face. They let him go, but not too far: yielding privacy without abandoning closeness. Elena wondered what it was like to have friends that loyal - friends who would come to your side no matter the cost or the hardship.

Of course...

"I never thanked you."

"Allies do not keep debts." Mox shrugged, then reached for the bottle he'd brought with him. "Whiskey?"

"No."

"Suit yourself, vagabond."

Elena blew out a wild cloud of smoke. "If you hadn't come for me, Pratal..."

"You would have escaped. Of this I have no doubt." He shrugged. "Without your cleverness, we never would have found you to start with."

"Perhaps." Elena shot Meysam's little group another glance. "They don't know how to handle blows like this."

"They are strong. XCOM was not built on idle hands and weak hearts. War tempers all steel."

"There's truth in that." Elena gave Mox another long glance. "Do you know that feeling? The one where you think...where you think the worst thing that could possibly have happened just has?"

"Yes, I know it. I know it well." Mox took a long drink. "I also know, Outrider, that life finds a way to prove that feeling wrong, every time."

"Bioregenesis is stable. Initiating stasis module warmup." Doctor Matthew Kipler hit buttons on his holodisplay, and diagnostics flashed up before his eyes. Din Dourde watched with arms crossed from a raised, sealed podium, studiously averting her eyes from the figure preparing for treatment. Even the transparent barrier separating them didn't seem like enough protection, not when the figure in question was...

"This mortal form is weak." Angelis' voice was strong, even if she struggled to move her replacement body's arms and legs. "We need to increase the complexity of the psionic strands. We need stronger muscle tissue - pull berserker material. Insert a splice more of sectoid enhancement, and add more cybernetic implants in the neural pathways. If an old man and a cripple can best our current prototypes in hand-to-hand combat..."

"As you wish, Angelis." Kipler bowed his head. "I'll notify the Forge facility of the template changes."

"You'll notify them in person, Doctor. You've provided me with good service, so I'm dispatching you to take command." Angelis lay back in her body's Genesis Chamber, and her violet eyes burned as she examined the ceiling. "I expect regular progress reports."

"Of course, Angelis."

"It's a pity that spy of ours didn't survive the battle." The Hunter sat in the corner, halfheartedly playing on his datapad. "If she could have reengaged the tracking beacon she put aboard that stupid ship, we'd still be airborne."

"Agreed, Mighty Hunter." Dourde sighed. "We might never get another shot at their flagship itself."

"One way or another, I think we'll manage." The Hunter hit a few more buttons. "Did he just blue-shell me? He just blue-shelled me!" He threw the datapad, so hard and fast Dourde flinched. His revolver came out in a flash and he lined up the shot - Dourde knew he'd lined up the shot picture-perfect, so she wondered why he didn't actually take it. It wasn't as if datapads were expensive.

But no. More subdued than usual, the Hunter holstered the gun. He eyed his flung datapad, and Dourde slowly moved to retrieve it.

"A question?" It took a lot of nerve to even approach this topic, but the curiosity her new master had awoken in her wouldn't be abated until she'd asked.

"Yes?" The Hunter fished a lemon drop from his pouch, letting her set the pad down in his lap.

"The...the girl." Dourde swallowed, steeling herself. "The one-"

"I remember." The Hunter studied his lemon drop very intently. Dourde shifted her weight.

"...why?"

Silence. Something worked behind his eyes, and Dourde hoped Angelis wasn't paying attention to the two of them, even if only for a minute.

"Well." The Hunter cleared his throat. "Ruining my big brother's fun is its own reward, isn't it?" The mirth in his tone never touched his eyes. "I didn't do it for her."

Dourde studied him. Whatever his other sins, his other foibles and failings and foulnesses...this was the first time he'd ever lied to her.

"Yes, sir." She wasn't going to call him on it. "I'll see to 07's resupply. Who knows? Maybe we will get the chance again."

"See to it, General."

He turned that lemon drop over between his fingers, contemplating it very seriously at least until Dourde was out of sight.

Gallant hesitated at the entrance to the staff room, leaning hard on his cane. The grip was nicked now: nicked and dented in ways it hadn't been before the battle. Chips and scars abounded in the oddest of places lately.

"I know this song." He chanced his way across the threshold carefully, eyes down. "Try, Pink, 2012. It was a big one in my day...Major."

"Old man." Jane didn't muster much cheer, and didn't even try. She did set the music control down, though. "Where's everyone else?"

"Shen's fetching Tygan. He needs help to walk, after what happened." Gallant halted, leaving the table between them. "John's..."

"Grieving."

Gallant sighed. "Something like that."

Jane's brown eyes took him in very intently. "You cut my com."

Gallant swallowed. He shifted his weight from foot to cane. "I'm sorry."

"I..." She lowered her head, reaching up to flick at the corners of her eyes. "It doesn't matter anymore. None of it."

"Major..." Gallant sighed. "He's a hero. If I still had Stars of Terra to give..."

"It hurts. Not seeing him when I should, expecting him to be there..." Her face got a little more distant. "And I miss Mariah too."

Gallant looped around the table, joining her beside the viewscreen that simulated the clouds passing below. The night made them look very dark.

"Commander-"

"Please. Edward." Gallant looked around the room. "We're off-duty, aren't we?"

"Yes, sir. I mean, Edward." Jane did crack a little grin, but then it was gone. "I want to apologize. Give my condolences. For Moira."

Gallant's eyes stung. He inhaled sharply, reaching up to his breast pocket for just one moment - just long enough to touch the rim of her picture.

"Thank you, Major Kelly-"

"Jane."

"Jane, then." Gallant met her eyes. "Thank you. And my condolences for David."

"I feel responsible - like I should have done something about it all." Jane studied him for a moment. "Edward, is this what it was like in the old days?"

"...yes." Gallant leaned hard on his cane, thinking of Malin Larsen and entire squads interred in spirit, because there wasn't enough left of them to fill lunchboxes, let alone coffins. "Always on edge. Always itching for a fight, and praying it didn't come. Always watching the sky, and always knowing that the person you're sharing lunch with...the one you're hitting the rec room with..." He exhaled. "Might not come back."

Jane blinked slowly. "It's not much of a life."

"No. But it's the job." Gallant closed his eyes. "It's the job, Jane: we are the world's only line of defense. Men like me sit here in our war rooms, blithely giving orders like we're moving pieces in some enormous chess-like game...while the people on the ground live and die. With mouse-clicks and snap decisions, we condemn fates, and it weighs hard. I can still see the faces of everyone who died in the old war because of my failures - let alone in this one."

"Me too. Those I know." Jane rubbed at her face. "Does it end?"

"No. At least someone in the barracks can go to sleep - at least a soldier knows they aren't on-duty until the klaxon rings. Commanders?" Gallant chuckled in the back of his throat. "The Commander is always on the bridge, Jane. That's the job: the eternal watch. Vigilo Confido."

Jane glanced back out the window. Visibly, she drew herself up. "You sound awfully nihilistic for eight in the evening."

"Maybe." Gallant wished he could quip, but that picture in his pocket was a heavy argument in favor of sobriety.

"We're here!" Shen appeared in the doorway, letting Tygan lean on her arm as he gamely made his way for the table on a long crutch. "Took us a while to manage the stairs out of the labs, but we're fine. ROV-R didn't have to do anything with the medical spray-"

"That's good-"

"I am in no condition to need emergency treatment." Tygan still let Gallant pull out his chair. "Thank you, Commander."

"It's selfish, really: I need you in the game so I can point Kelly at someone when she starts kicking my ass."

"And I will." Jane finally opened the cardboard box centered on the table. Shen frowned.

"Central?"

Gallant shook his head. Shen's eyes darkened, but she nodded.

Together, they fished the parts out. Jane poured drinks, while Gallant set up the board and organized the pieces. Shen shuffled the two decks of cards, and Tygan laboriously organized the money and deeds. A moment later, he dealt starting funds.

"Call 'em." Gallant eased himself into his chair. The ladies took their own seats.

"Thimble." Shen caught it when Gallant threw.

"Car." Tygan reached for it himself.

"I'll take the ship." Gallant plopped it down on Go. "Kelly?"

"I think-"

"If you take the goddamn dog, I'm busting your ass down to Corporal."

In he came, datapad tucked under his arm. His three-day stubble lingered, as did the bags under his eyes, but Bradford settled in his place at Gallant's right hand anyway. He brought his own glass and bottle, and they settled with him - but here he was.

"John." Gallant nodded. Bradford gave him a look...then sighed.

"Can't do anything but move forward."

"Isn't that the truth?" Shen paused. "Hang on. How did Free Parking work again?"

She knew: she damn well knew, Gallant was sure. But Bradford immediately jumped in to teach her, and there was a spark of engagement in his eyes that hadn't been there before. Gallant let them be.

He pulled the photograph from his breast pocket, and he held it with shaking fingers.

She'd aged, and not all for the best. She wasn't the lithe beauty he remembered when he'd seen her through Aileen's GREMLIN. How much of that had been Advent's torture, how much time...he couldn't say. All he knew was that, age lines or no, she was still the most beautiful woman he'd ever laid eyes on. She'd been...she'd been...

Thump.

Gallant looked up. There in the center of the board lay another picture, one printed in the new, ramshackle style rather than the old professional one. It was a headshot with nothing but business to it: one that showed a scraggly-bearded Australian with a scarred cheek.

Jane studied Gallant for a long moment.

It was hard. It was harder than he could ever have imagined, harder than he wanted to face. But still, he held Moira out, and he laid her at the table center with David. His hand shook when he let go, and his eyes pricked and stung and burned...but he did it just the same.

Shen reached into her pocket, and she dropped a wallet-size of two little girls playing with electric trains. Her eyes misted over, and she wiped at them with a fingertip. A moment later, Tygan fished in his coat, and he laid a letter with the pictures: one signed Matthew Kipler. What colored his face was a lot darker than grief, but there was enough of that mixed in too: even if someone lived, you could still lose them forever.

Bradford dropped Mariah's datapad in the collection, and the lock screen of her beaming face the day she made it aboard shone up at them all.

No one said a word. No one reached for the dice. They all studied those they'd lost, with grief and anger and misery enough to cloud the room in a mire of despair. Gallant wished for one more moment with Moira - just enough to say the things he'd always wanted to.

Try echoed around the chamber, somber and serious to fit the mood.

Gallant was the first one to take his drink in hand. The others followed suit quickly.

Five glasses clinked together as one.

Author's Note 60: Ever Worried That It Might Be Ruined/And Does It Make You Wanna Cry?

It's worth noting that I've been following themes with each season so far: Season One was thematic around Jane and Gallant, our two leads, coming into their own in spite of their mistakes and their traumas. Season Two's theme is, obviously, a lot darker: sometimes sacrifices have to be made in war. Season Three has a theme of its own that I've already settled on, one that plays off of both these previous ones - and Season Four has a few options on the table, even if I haven't made up my mind just yet. I won't need to for a while, so.

And with that, Season Two has come to an end. I hope it was as much of a rollercoaster to read as it was to write. As with Season One, there will be a multi-month break here: I do in fact have a job and other professional writing commitments to follow. In fact, I'm going to move to working on my next serial and my next full project both over this summer, and hopefully getting another full MS review within the next few days.(As of when this was written, so I'll almost certainly already have it by the time you read this, IN THE FUTUUUUURE!)

Even over the break, I encourage you to leave reviews or send me PMs. I do incorporate fan suggestions into my plot - Season Three features a major plot element from one of my first reviews - so fire away. And check out our TVtropes page and give it some love if that's what you do! You can also find your way to my serials through my profile page if you want to keep something of me in your life, you romantic. I also have a Twitter that I don't post on as much as I should.

This is strictly off the top of my head, and I will not be bound by it, but I roughly expect to begin initial work on S3 in mid-August, which would mean you should see it before October. Stay tuned!

Finally, I just want to say that if this story has inspired you to write anything of your own, do it. And let me know where to find it - I would love nothing better than hearing that I kickstarted someone else's imaginative processes.

Until next season, Vigilo Confido.

Where there is desire, there is gonna be a flame,

Where there is a flame, someone's bound to get burned,

But just because it burns doesn't mean you're gonna die,

You gotta get up and try, try, try...