He was alone.

He would always be alone.

Always be… insufficient.

She would always be alone…

Sara Ryder woke with a gasp.

She looked frantically around at the gleaming machinery, her mind trying to catch up to what her eyes were seeing. The cryo bay. Hyperion. Andromeda.

"We made it." She said it aloud to convince herself that she was really awake.

Her words called two medtechs over to her, and they pelted her with conversation. Finally, someone brought her a cup of coffee, and left her to drink it and orient herself.

She sipped the coffee and tried to chase down the odd dream she'd been having just before she woke up. Something about being alone…? That wasn't surprising, considering she'd just spent 600 years asleep in a cryopod. There had been something else wrong with the dream though, if she could just figure out what it had been…

Doctor T'Perro hustled over before she could pinpoint the feeling, and by the time the doctor was done with her exam, the dream had wisped away from her and was lost.

The next several hours weren't exactly conducive to quiet contemplation, either. Habitat 7 was a bust, Scott was in a coma for who knew how long, and her father… her father was dead.

He was alone. In a society which highly valued relationships, and the sharing of emotions, he was alone and had no one to share with. He would always be alone, lost, searching for an anchor which could not be found. Perhaps he didn't deserve that sort of trust, that sort of peace.

Sara Ryder woke again. This time, she was in SAM node, though she didn't know why. She knew she'd had another dream, and it was still… wrong… somehow. This time, she learned from the past: she kept her eyes closed and didn't move while she tried to chase down the dream fragments.

The emotions had come through most clearly. Loneliness, a feeling of being lost, and despair. Sara frowned slightly. What was wrong with that dream?

Loneliness. Well, that wasn't so unusual, was it? Her mother, dead and buried 600 years and who knew how many lightyears behind her. Her father, newly dead on the disaster which was Habitat 7. Her twin, in a coma and showing no signs of waking. Loneliness was only to be expected.

Feeling lost. Well, again, that wasn't so unusual. If ever anyone had been lost, it was the Hyperion. At the end of a one way trip there had been only disaster waiting for them, not the new home they had expected.

Despair. That was not unexpected either, but it felt… odd. Not the bright, sharp edged despair she had expected; this was a well worn despair, as if she'd been living with it for years without relief.

Before she could track the thought further, SAM was speaking to her. Then the others were talking too. By the time she could spare the odd dream any thought, the feeling of wrongness was gone, replaced by determination. She was overwhelmed, lost, and grieving, but she wasn't alone. She was the Pathfinder now, and she had duty to the people of the Initiative.

Keep moving. That was what she had to do. Keep moving, deal with her emotions later. Keep moving.

Jaal woke with a start.

His dreams had been… unsettled lately. Not that his dreams were ever pleasant - he had never been able to leave his broken, unfinished connection alone; in his sleep, he was always prodding at the wound that wouldn't heal.

This dream had been… different, somehow. Something had changed. His own emotions still flowed through the connection as always, still echoed back to him in the absence of anywhere else to go; but somehow, they now felt stronger than usual on returning.

Something had changed, and he couldn't tell if that was a good sign, or a horrible one.

Sara, Cora, and Liam walked into a dark and seemingly abandoned Nexus. Clearly unfinished, it seemed deserted. Despite Liam's persistently cheerful expectation of a surprise party, Sara felt a growing certainty that they were about to be handed another crisis.

The station's VI wasn't reassuring, and it wasn't helpful. The tech they found wasn't helpful either, stammering and staring as if they'd all grown horns. Before Sara reached out and shook the man in exasperation, a new voice joined the conversation.

The familiar two-toned vocals and blunt delivery made her smile. There was no one better to deal with in a crisis than a turian. She turned, and found herself staring at an armored turian. He offered her a handshake as he introduced himself.

"I'm Tiran Kandros, I lead our militia here on the Nexus."

Sara smiled without knowing she was going to. His blue gaze was steady, his grip firm. He filled her in on all the important details in a matter of fact voice that was refreshing. Talking to Kandros on the way to meet with the Nexus' leadership, Sara found herself drawing the first free breath she'd taken since waking up in the Hyperion's cryobay. When they finally arrived at Operations to meet the directors, Sara was smiling.

She wasn't smiling for long. Not only did Nexus have their own problems, but they were blatantly disappointed to have her instead of her father. She tried to put the best face on things that she could, tried to sound confident, but she didn't think she'd convinced anyone. She was all they had to work with, though, and they knew it.

Before making her way to the docking bay, Sara wandered around Nexus, firmly telling herself that she wasn't searching for Kandros.

Searching for him or not, she found him. Speaking with him restored her confidence and good humor. He didn't have any good news to impart - no one did, it seemed - but he delivered his news with a blunt matter of factness; further, he threw in just enough swagger to make her grin. Sara had spoken with enough turians to know that the more serious the situation, the more they swaggered. She swaggered back at him, and felt amply rewarded when his mandibles flared in a smile. Finally, she ran out of useful topics, and knew she had to leave.

Reluctantly, she shrugged slightly and said, "Well, duty calls, Kandros."

He nodded. "You and me both, Pathfinder."

As Sara turned and headed towards the docking bay to see what sort of ship Director Tann had provided for her use, she was grinning. For the first time, she felt like the Pathfinder, instead of like a child trying on her father's too-big shoes.

Kandros' casual acknowledgement had made the title her own.