Goodbye (Reprise)

16 ATC. Yavin IV.

She would have preferred a later start to the morning's meeting, all things considered.

When Nine wakes to the beeping alarm her mouth is dry and she can feel her heartbeat pounding behind her eyes; she rolls over, pulling her pillow over her head with a grumble of protest, and briefly entertains the idea of falling back to sleep.

"If you don't shut that thing off-" across the tent, Lana's voice is muffled; when Nine peers out from beneath the pillow she can only see a blanket-covered form laying prone on the far cot and then one hand poking out, a faint blue-tinged light gathering around the fingertips.

"Don't you dare." Dragging herself upright, she reaches out toward the desk and pokes at her datapad until it quiets. "There. Awake. Under protest."

Lana pushes the blanket off her face, rubbing her eyes. "Believe me, I know. I didn't set today's agenda."

"And I doubt Marr's battling this hangover, either. I've never even seen him eat, let alone being able to drink through that mask."

"Oh, I don't know." As she sits up, picking her tunic off the floor and slipping it over her head, her tone turns sly. "He could use a straw, I suppose."

"With a little umbrella?" Now that's a mental image- she'll be thinking of it through the entire damned meeting now. She makes a note to tuck a pin into her jacket pocket. That'll keep her from laughing if it comes down to it. "I ought to shower. After all the torches last night I smell like a cantina fire."

(More like sex in a burning cognac distillery, frankly, but she can't tell her that.)

Lana sniffs the hem of her tunic and wrinkles her nose. "I likely should as well. We've got half an hour yet- shall we?"

She downs three tablets of painkiller with her caf and steps into the Command tent, trailing two paces behind Lana, at eight o'clock sharp. It could have been worse. Marr was always spare with words and today's no exception: no pleasantries and no small talk, just a sound-cancelling shield up to discourage eavesdroppers and a secure connection to the Intelligence mainframe as they set to work.

She would have thought it would be a shorter meeting. No matter how urgent the work this wasn't the right place for operational discussions, especially with their temporary peace with the Republic still nominally in place- too many ears, shield notwithstanding, and poor form besides. Clearly, though, she'd underestimated the power of Sith bureaucracy. Three hours in they've got both Darth Vowrawn and Darth Acina patched in via holotransmitter and little settled but titles, ranks and whether Lana's office ought to be in the Citadel or the Intelligence tower-

(Oh, don't remind me. Lana groans. It took two weeks to even move in once we'd returned to Dromund Kaas. Do you know why it took so long to set the offices up?

I wasn't there, remember- I was only home two days before you sent me off to Balmorra. But I assumed it was a protocol issue, she shrugs. A Sith Lord in the east tower. Goodness knows we mustn't go against tradition.

That's what I thought initially, too, but as it turns out it was rather more straightforward. When Intelligence personnel were all reassigned after the disbanding it left most of the building vacant, and the Citadel tower's always been crowded- by her expression, she knew it from experience- particularly for the lower-ranking Sith. When word got around there was space for the taking, they claimed it.

That oughtn't to have been a surprise. She'd just avoided the old headquarters building back then, after all- the Minister's last act in office had been to build a remote access protocol for the archive, and there were far too many memories in those halls. Just like Sith. Always taking our toys away.

I took them back, Lana says with a grin. But a few of them didn't take kindly to being evicted. It really made quite a mess.

That's Intelligence for you. Two parts breaking and entering, a dash of poison, three parts embassy parties and one part wondering how people fit that much blood into their bodies.

Her smile broadens, teeth flashing white in her pale face. Yes, well. I was never very fond of parties.)

-and she simply starts pulling up dossiers on her datapad and ranking them in priority order as she keeps one ear to the conversation.

"I would advise returning the Watchers to service, but that decision will ultimately be yours." Darth Marr gestures toward the hierarchical map projected above the table. "They were originally reallocated to the military and to Production and Logistics, however-"

She makes a noise despite herself: what a Force-damned waste. She remembers Watcher Sixteen working on a particularly tricky substitution cipher once, years ago; he'd had it decrypted and translated from Bothan before she finished her breakfast. Imagining all that brilliance gone to calculating troop numbers and patterning out fluctuations in grain prices- "Get as many of them back as possible, if they haven't been ruined already." Looking up from her notes as both Marr and Lana's heads snap in her direction, she sets the pad down and folds her arms across her chest. "You know they were never meant for that sort of careless handling. You've taken-" oh, what's a comparison they'd understand? "You've taken lightsabers and used them to toast your bread."

Lana blinks and Vowrawn's hologram scowls at her, but Marr only nods, impassive as ever behind his mask.

"An appropriate analogy," he rumbles. "If we are to hope to regain an advantage over the Republic, we must use our resources to their full potential. Should you require any other former assets returned to your employ-" his gaze is turned toward Lana, now, but she can't help feel as though he's still partially talking to her- "that may be negotiable."

"Yes, my lord." They must have said that a hundred times in those few hours, the two of them; Lana inclines her head in a deferential half-bow. "I'll prepare a list, with Cipher Nine's assistance."

"Then we'll adjourn until tomorrow. While this truce served us against Revan, it will soon be over, and we have spent far too long having blinded ourselves to our enemies' plans." With a wave of his hand, Marr deactivates the projectors. "No longer."

Well, she thinks as they step out of the tent, past the guards and into the midday heat, it's about time.

And as we sat staring at the Republic, the Emperor destroyed a planet. Lana sighs. To say nothing of the Eternal Empire sneaking in through the back door.

Zakuul surprised the Republic too, to be fair, she shrugs. And I don't know that handling Ziost differently would have done much good. Even without Kovach's treachery, without Theron's Jedi and Saresh's absurd invasion attempt, he would have set our people to killing each other until he got what he wanted. How do we kill someone that doesn't need a body, someone we couldn't even see?

Interesting questions. In that moment Valkorion's sitting beside her again, hip to hip, shoulder to shoulder, far too close for comfort. She tries not to flinch away when she catches sight of him out of the corner of her eye. How do you?

By the time she can turn to look at him fully he is gone.

That was then, old man, she says aloud, and hears Lana startle on her other side as the world snaps back into motion. I can see you now.

Lana's hand is cool on the back of her neck.

At noon they gather in the center of camp, Republic delegates on one side and Imperials opposite, to say their goodbyes.

She doesn't have to make a speech, thankfully. She isn't nearly high-ranking enough for that. Instead she listens quietly, hands clasped behind her back, as Grand Master Shan and Darth Marr address the gathered crowd for the last time. (It reminds her a little of the speeches on Victory Day, when Coruscant fell- she was only a child then, still in primary school, but she remembers the parade, the figure of Darth Baras projected ten stories tall in the central square. All grand speeches were the same in that way, she thinks: the same platitudes, the same shallow promises.

The Sith Code has it right in one respect, at least. Peace is a lie.)

At the end of it the troops disperse to finish the work of disassembly, of loading the shuttles and troop transports, pulling down the tents and lowering the banners. They are left standing on the makeshift dais, turning to face each other, three and three, just as they did in their safehouse on Rishi.

It seems like so long ago. Has it really been less than a month?

"Are the terms we discussed still agreeable?" Satele's tone is even, her hands folded neatly in front of her. "I've no particular desire for war today."

"Our fleet departs for Dromund Kaas," Marr replies, "the Mandalorian clans to Rishi and yours for Coruscant, and this is neutral space. We will not pursue unless given reason to do so."

"And you shall find none."

There's an odd sort of formality to their cadence and when the two of them nod to one another the silence hangs in the air, almost palpable; beside her, Lana's holding her breath. She catches Theron's eye and he barely moves, one shoulder rising and falling in the slightest little shrug- if there's something she missed he doesn't feel it either, clearly.

More Force nonsense, then. It always came down to the Force in the end, no matter how hard the rest of them work, how many times they- Force-blind, defective, inferior- go to the wall in their masters' names. It always will, probably. She's used to it by now.

Doesn't make it any less bantha shit, though.

"Then we will meet again on the battlefield, Grand Master." As Marr speaks the breeze picks up, the air moving again. "But not today."

Satele nods. "It will be as the Force wills it. I-" Then she stops, still looking upward at Marr as her head tilts subtly, and for a moment she's almost staring through him, mouth still half-open around a word, her hands dropping to her sides. Behind her, Theron's face scrunches in concern; he takes a step forward, but before he draws even with her Satele blinks and her gaze shifts rightward, straight at her.

It isn't the first time she's been stared down by a Jedi, but her expression's something entirely different- in the past they always looked determined (the good ones, she supposes) or angry (the not-so-good ones, who often as not she didn't need to fight at all, who only needed a little persuading). Satele looks-

-she looks worried, just for a second, before her face settles back into its usual calm solemnity and she keeps speaking as though nothing at all had happened, waving Theron back with a slight turn of one hand. "I don't pretend to know the future, but yes, we will meet again. Until then, may the Force be with you."

"May it serve you well," Marr replies, and then they say no more.

(I don't remember that, Lana says slowly. But perhaps it was a vision.

Of the future, or-?

She shrugs. It's possible. With power like Satele has, the Force sometimes works in unpredictable ways.

You say 'has' as though you think she's still alive.

I've no reason to assume she isn't. I sensed Marr's passing from halfway across the galaxy, and we had enough eyes on her to know that she survived the sack of Tython. She hasn't been in contact with anyone- even Theron's tried, without success- but if she'd died after that I would think I would have felt it.

She frowns, considering. I suppose. But they didn't see each other again, did they- Marr and Satele? Before he died? It seems so long ago. It's hard to remember.

Not in person, so far as I'm aware, though I suspect Grand Master Shan may have been meant to be part of the conclave on the Terminus but ended up delayed, just as I was. There were other Jedi there, yes?

There were, and Republic soldiers too. Still, it means she was wrong.

I can only imaging that interpreting the future might be rather subjective. It's not a gift I share. Her nose wrinkling, Lana looks to her. Nor would I want to, I think. Imagine knowing what will happen and not being able to do anything about it.

An uncomfortable idea, indeed- a chill runs up her spine, prickling the hairs on the back of her neck. I wonder what she saw when she looked at me.)

Marr's the first to turn away, dismissing her and Lana with a gesture as his guards fall in at either side. Opposite them, Satele starts to walk toward the far edge of the platform; Theron, turning, says something too quiet to hear at this distance and his mother shakes her head. I'm fine- her lips form around the words, then press together in a narrow line as he replies- leave it be, Theron. We'll speak later.

He sighs as Satele descends the stairs, and then it's just the four of them left- her and Lana and Theron and Jakarro, one final time.

She raises an eyebrow at Theron, a silent question, and he runs one hand through his hair and makes a face. Fair enough.

"So. I guess this is goodbye." Theron's looking at Lana, not at her, when he says it.

"I suppose it is. It's certainly been…" Lana stops, clearly thinking better of whatever she way about to say. "It's been an experience, hasn't it?"

She can't help it- she laughs a little at that, and Jakarro growls amusement and Theron grins as Lana flushes. "That's one word for it."

"I get what you meant," Theron says. "And yeah, it definitely was. Maybe not one I'd care to repeat, but- well. We got through it, and now it's back to real life. Like a really weird vacation."

"Are you heading back with Theron, Jakarro? Much as I hate to admit it, the Empire isn't the wisest destination for you." Looking up at the Wookiee as he roars out a reply, she shifts her focus down to Dee-Four for the translation.

"We're headed back to Rishi!" The droid sounds suspiciously cheerful, which never bodes well, and more to the point-

Lana says it before she can. "Jakarro, you hated Rishi."

He gestures for emphasis, and Theron has to duck to keep from getting bowled over. "Exactly! That is why I must return!" Dee-Four keeps translating over a series of ever-louder roars. He clearly feels strongly about this. "Those pirates are the most pathetic thing I've ever seen, but they have potential. I'm going to whip them into shape."

"Hear, hear." Shae Vizla, walking past with a few of her clanmates trailing behind, raises a fist in agreement. "Not worth my time, but someone ought to do it. Plenty of credits there if you've got the stones to tame that mess. You catching a ride with our ships, then?"

"We have a few stops to make first, but we'll be there shortly." She wishes, not for the first time, she understood more Shyriiwook. She's pretty sure that's not what Jakarro actually said.

"Fair enough. And Cipher?" Shae pauses in front of the dais and nods her head in her direction. "You find any more fights that good, you know where to find me."

She grins. Short a punch in the teeth that's as much respect as she's ever likely to get from a Mandalorian. "I'll keep that in mind. Ret'urcye mhi."

Her pronunciation's shitty and her mouth catches on the glottal stop, but Shae just grins. "Not bad, Imp. Not bad. Ret'urcye mhi. "

"Well, then"- turning back to Jakarro as the Mandalorians continue across the courtyard, she holds out her hand- "good luck, big guy. Dee-Four, try not to let him rip too many arms off."

Unexpectedly, he pulls her in for a hug- oh, stars, that might have just been a rib cracking- as he sweeps Theron and, surprisingly, Lana, in with his other arm, nearly pulling them off their feet. "Be safe, little friends."

"I- oof- I will." Extracting herself from his grip, Lana takes a deep breath. "And you too, Theron. Be well. I suspect you'll have an easier time of it without me around."

"Now you admit it?" Theron blinks, then chuckles. "You're probably right, yeah- but you too, Lana. Try not to get in too much trouble, all right?"

"I'll do my best. Cipher-" she looks toward her- "I'll see you back at the tent. I'm going to go start packing things up and we can continue our earlier discussion."

When she nods agreement, Lana steps down onto the cobblestones and sets off toward their side of camp; Jakarro, with one last wave, heads toward the Republic shuttle pads. After a moment, they're both out of sight behind the rows.

Theron turns to her, then. "So-" too loud, meant to be overheard even if they can't be sure anyone's listening- "you're finally getting rid of me, huh?"

"I will admit, I'm a little sad to see this end." She gestures around them, at the little camp that was their home. "I'm going to miss you."

"Me, too. C'mere."

It's a brief embrace, chaste and appropriate in sight of the soldiers still hard at work clearing the courtyard. If she had any sense that would have been the end of it.

He whispers in her ear, though, as his fingertips brush along her back. "Do you still think you can get away, or-?"

"I've just got a few things to take care of," she murmurs in reply. "Give me an hour or two, but I'll send you a message."

"Good." Theron takes a step back, his voice picking up volume again. "Take care, Cipher. See you in the ops reports."

"Not if I'm doing my job properly," she says, and he winks before he turns away.

(I should have known. Lana sighs. But-

We were careful, as I said. Not careful enough, of course. She raises one hand to her throat at the memory, a smile playing at the corners of her mouth. Although I've been meaning to ask you- what happened to Jakarro? Do you know?

Lana shakes her head. He and Dee-Four did go to Rishi. When the war hit, though, Zakuul blockaded the hyperspace lanes. The pirates and smugglers didn't stand a chance. I looked for him when I started to pull the Alliance together, but- she frowns. Nothing. And they weren't exactly inconspicuous.

No, they weren't. She sighs.)

Back in the tent, she throws her things into her duffel- everything needs washing in any case, so there's no point in folding- and strips the linens off her cot. Lana's still packing, setting everything neatly into her own bag, and looks up as she dumps the sheets onto the floor.

"I've got people coming to haul everything away. Don't worry about taking those to the laundry crates."

"Perks of rank, hm? All right." The console needs to go, too; she starts an erasure program, setting the storage chips to purge their data. A hammer would be quicker, but the unit could be reused. Waste not, want not. "I'll start making holocalls, unless you've got another task for me."

"Hm? No, I think anything more than that can wait," Lana says, rummaging under her cot for a stray tabard.

She nods. "Fine. You don't have any particular objection to non-humans, do you? Some of my contacts are a bit on the unconventional side. I'll need to reorder my list-" she holds up her datapad- "if you do, though it'll be your staff. It's up to you."

"Define unconventional."

"Nothing scandalous. Chiss, mostly. Twi'leks. One Nautolan, if she'll hire on. Sweetest-looking face you ever saw and she could kill you in a dozen ways with a credit chit and a roll of spacer's tape. Also a trained receptionist. I was thinking of her for a bodyguard for you, at least until Zhorrid's been managed."

Her bag fastened, Lana lofts it across the tent with a wave of one hand until it settles just next to the entrance. "I've no objections. If you think they're suitable, I trust your judgment."

"Famous last words." Setting her transmitter on the desktop, she dials in the first address. "It's been a few years. Let's see if anyone remembers me."

She oughtn't have worried.

For better or for worse, people in her line of work have long memories. She learned long ago not to burn bridges unless she didn't have a choice and it makes the calls that much easier; a dozen conversations later, she's got their first agents heading back to Dromund Kaas- three Minders, two Fixers, five security specialists including the Nautolan and, in a stroke of excellent luck, Cipher Seventeen. Her only failures are Minder Eight (hugely pregnant, when she answers the holo; she only laughs and points to her belly before Nine can even ask. "I'm sorry, Cipher, but I'm afraid I've retired from that particular line of work," she grins, and Fixer Twelve peeks over her shoulder and waves hello) and one old Nar Shaddaa contact who simply hangs up on her (in retrospect, she did promise she'd call him the next day, didn't she?).

All in all, a good start.

Two soldiers peek through the tent opening as she disconnects the final call. "Sorry to interrupt, Lord Beniko- and Cipher. Thought you'd told us to come and pull the tent down, but if we should come back later-"

"I was just finishing up." Tucking the holo into her belt pouch, she rises, stretching. It's later than she thought. She should find Theron. "I'm sure I can find somewhere else to be."

Lana nods, too. "I'll find a sunny corner to meditate in. Once we're home again, Force knows when we'll next see actual daylight."

"D'you want us to take your bags to loadout?" The second soldier chimes in, even as she's already starting to take one of the desks apart. "We've got to head back that way either way, and it's no trouble.

One less thing to do. Why not? "Fine. Let me just grab my rifle-" she picks it up from its resting place atop the duffel bag, sliding it into her back holster until it clicks; no one touches her guns but her and her team, a lesson she learned the hard way early on. That misfire nearly cost her a finger- "and it's all yours. I'll see you in a few hours, Lana."

She barely sees her wave as she steps out of the tent- she's already looking down at her commpad, typing out a message.

Did you still want to talk? Free now until shuttle launch.

His reply's immediate.

meet me by the war table?

She smiles. On my way.

When she reaches the stone table it's bare, now, all the monitors and equipment already hauled away and only faint outlines on the ground left as signs they were ever there. In another few weeks the vines and weeds they'd cut away will have grown back and there'll be no trace of them at all save only the wrecked shuttle across the clearing and the perimeter sensors left in the field; in a year even those will be gone, rusted relics mixed in with the crumbling stones. It'll be as though they were never here.

It's a sobering thought.

She doesn't see Theron at first. When she turns, though, there he is, leaning against the wall of one of the ruins, and he smiles at her when she comes near.

"For a little while there I thought you might be standing me up." Taking her by one wrist, he draws her around until they're out of view of the archway.

"Oh, you know," she says, "no rest for the wicked. Plus, I had to pack."

"More work already?" Theron wrinkles his nose at her. "It's bad enough that we're back to the same damn war, but they could have given you a day off, at least."

"We're not big on vacations in the Empire." After a moment, looking at him still frowning, she reaches out with her other hand to touch his arm. "That came out less funny than I meant it. I wasn't going to leave without saying goodbye, Theron, regardless of the circumstances."

"Us being on opposite sides again, you mean."

She sighs. She should have known he'd think of things that way- he never was going to be the no-strings type, no matter what he said. "Yes. But we knew that was going to happen from the beginning."

"I- yeah. Sorry. I'm just not-" he shakes his head, leans down to brush his lips across her forehead and despite herself she tilts her chin up into the kiss. "I keep thinking that now I've got to go back to real life and make myself forget, that all of this was a mistake, but-"

"You do. I do, too," she says against his throat. "And you're allowed to make mistakes, Theron, whether you admit it to yourself or not. You're allowed to want things even if you know they're bad for you."

"You aren't- you weren't bad for me. You saved me."

She closes her eyes as he cups her head in his hands. "The two aren't mutually exclusive."

"I know that. But you weren't." Another kiss, punctuating the words. "Somehow I didn't picture this, that first day on Manaan."

"Quite a ways from Mysterious Ally, hm?" She grins as he mutters something against her skin. "And to think I thought you'd be dull."

"Really?" It's only mock offense in his voice, and when she glances upward he's grinning too. "Not roguishly charming?"

"You're more the brooding type, but I had you figured for Standard Republic Issue- too serious. Hot, though."

Theron laughs out loud at that, hands drifting downward, settling around her waist. "I take a while to warm up, 's all. Though I'll admit I was wrong about you, too."

"Oh, do tell," she purrs, leaning against him. They've got a little time, still. She doesn't need to leave quite yet.

(She doesn't want to leave yet. She tries not to think about that too much.)

"Only if you promise not to get mad."

She rolls her eyes at him. "Don't be absurd."

"You popped up on holo down in that base, covered in Selkath blood and half on fire, and I thought-" he stops- oh, stars, is he blushing again?- "I remember thinking, y'know, crazy doesn't normally do it for me but damn- "

"Ah, romance," she says dryly, and winks. "You hid it well. I rather got the impression you loathed me."

"Thought you said it was overrated. And no, I just- it's hard training to break, you know? All we ever learn from day one on is you versus us, but once we knew each other better-"

"Oh, it is." He's still got a scratch along one cheekbone from yesterday and she traces it with an idle fingertip, curling in closer as his arms tighten around her. "And yes, I know. Though I meant what I said before. I am going to miss you."

Theron's quiet for a moment, his head tilting into her touch. "I'm going to miss you, too. I wish you-"

"Don't." She lets her hand dip lower, presses her finger to his mouth. "Don't."

"Do we just say goodbye, then?"

(She should have known better. Leaving is one thing; leaving is easy. Forgetting is easy. But she doesn't want to hurt him and someday she's probably going to have to and that-

That complicates things.)

She nods. "It's easiest that way."

"What time is it?"

Turning her wrist, she looks at her chrono. "Nearly four. Why?"

"We still have an hour, then, don't we? Before we need to be on the shuttles?"

"Yes, but-"

"Then we can say goodbye-" Theron nudges her hand aside, catches her mouth with his and she shouldn't but oh, to the Void with that; she is allowed to want things that she knows are bad for her- "in an hour."

She lets him push her back against the wall.

And- well. Not exactly love at first sight, but you know what happened after that, she finishes, grinning, with a little shrug of her shoulders. He went back to the SIS, and I went back to work, and that was the end of it. No one else ever knew but Vector.

(His nose twitched as she slid into the seat beside him on the shuttle back to the Terminus, and after a moment he leans over to murmur into her ear. "We wondered where you'd gone. Agent Shan, hm?"

Killiks and their damned pheromones. She never could get anything past Vector, not that she'd ever really tried; he could read her like a book.

She sighed. "Spare me the lecture, Vector, please. I know."

"Lecture? Never." As he adjusted the harness straps across her body, he raised the edge of her collar to hide her neck. "We were only going to compliment your taste.")

I do know, Lana mutters, rather too well. But you're honestly telling me that nothing happened between then and Ziost?

Nothing happened. We never even spoke, and I was telling you the truth on Ziost. I didn't know he was there until Kovach mentioned his name.

And after that?

She shakes her head. We spoke once, briefly, a few weeks later. Not in person- she clarifies as Lana's brows start to creep ceilingward- I was shipboard off Alderaan and he was on Coruscant. I- I gave him the implant he wears now. He probably told you that.

He did. I'm not sure he meant to. Lana rubs her forehead. It was on Asylum, and we were both very drunk at the time.

And the next time I saw Theron, she says quietly, outside of five years of carbonite dreams, was here.

The day I called him, when I was sure you were alive, was the anniversary of the day we thought you'd died. I didn't even think of it at the time, but- Lana sighs. He was a wreck, Nine. The war was hard on all of us, and I knew you'd been lovers, of course, but I didn't realize how much he- she trails off.

(She remembers the night of the party. 'I mourned you,' he'd said, curled beside her, and she never really understood the depth of what he meant until now.)

Theron kissed me on Ziost. Did he tell you that, too?

Lana blinks, surprised. No. He didn't.

Before it happened- on the orbital station, while we were in the medical bay; I'd told him that you knew. He was trying to prove your point about objectivity. I stopped him then, but-

Was I right?

She chuckles. What do you think?

I think that right now you deserve to be happy despite everything that's going on around us, despite everything going on inside your head, and I think Theron looks better than I've seen him in years. And I think- Lana smiles- it would be awful of me to be anything but happy for you.

Thank you, she says; Lana stands, then, with a barely stifled yawn. But do me a favor, won't you?

Hm?

She stretches out until she's laying flat on the couch, sprawling across the space left vacant by Lana. Go talk to Koth. Don't keep dancing around things- it's better to have it all out in the open.

You ought to take your own advice. I saw Theron sneaking out of here yesterday morning.

She makes a face- guilty as charged. Do as I say, not as I do. Still.

But I don't think I want-

I know that, she says. I don't mean sex, or romance, if that's not what you want. Just... talk. I don't want something else ruined because of me.

You didn't- Lana stops herself. All right. But tomorrow, I think- for now, I should sleep. As should you.

I will. I might see if Theron's still awake, first. I…

(She isn't used to any of this.)

I miss him.

I know. Lana smiles. Good night, Nine.

Up next- Interlude III: Liminal Space. A holocall, two leads, and a cure for insomnia as we return to present time.

(Don't worry, we're not skipping over the shuttle entirely, but that's a memory better shared with someone other than Lana, I think. I leave it to you, readers- how much do you want to hear about that final hour?

And for those of you who are familiar with this week's spoilers (5.4): yes, I plan to continue this story regardless of how things play out. How I'll approach that particular turn remains to be seen, of course, but I do have an idea- one of the seeds of which appears somewhere in this chapter.)