Post-Season One (takes place several months after the end on Season One. Will surely be AU once the series picks up again.)

Space

One twisted the ring in his hands as he looked out into the blackness of space. He didn't know why he still had the ring. He ought to get rid of it, just space it and forget it.

Every time he saw it, he felt the rush of unbridled joy he'd experienced the first time he learned his wife was still alive. Inevitably, the joy was quickly tempered by guilt and regret.

The choice had seemed obvious at the time. His wife needed his help, needed him, so much more than Two. He'd sworn an oath to her, after all.

Broken

Even once his memories were restored, he'd never felt like he belonged in his old life. The Raza had changed him. He still felt he may have adjusted to the daily grind, if given enough time. His relationship with his wife was a different story.

So much had changed, for both of them, it probably wasn't surprising. He wasn't there for her recovery, he knew she resented that, despite her claims to the contrary. His changed appearance was rough also—she woke every morning to the face of stranger. He understood all that. What he'd never understood were the accusations.

Scandal

He was not a cheater, he never even looked at another woman. He didn't know why his wife didn't trust him.

Yes, he sometimes dreamt about another woman, but that was beyond his control. Besides, how could his wife have even known? Even if he muttered her name in his sleep, it shouldn't have given him away. When awake, he'd never once called her Portia, certainly never Rebecca. He doubted it was different in his sleep. She was and always would be Two to him. Reciting a number in his sleep was hardly grounds for divorce. Yet he here was.

Consume

Consumed with rage, he'd literally killed for his wife. That was the part that really got him. He'd killed to avenge a murder that had never occurred.

He couldn't go back to being Derrick Moss, because Derrick Moss had died. Somewhere aboard the Raza, Derrick Moss had been irretrievably replaced by a man known only as One.

And given that, he couldn't help but recognize the same applied to Marcus Boone. Derrick Moss had not killed Marcus Boone. One had killed Three. There was no vengeance. No blood debt satisfied. It was simply the murder of one crewmate by another.

Luggage

"Hold up."

One had just hit the button to raise the ramp of his ship after a brief stop for supplies, when a man carrying two large packs and a ridiculously oversized gun hopped onto the rising ramp.

"What—? Who are you? Get off my ship!"

The man slung his packs to the floor and turned toward One. "What kind of greeting is that? I thought you were supposed to be the one with manners."

One could hardly believe what he was seeing. There standing right in front of him, was the very man he'd killed six months ago—Three.

Survival

One stared. "But I…?"

"What? You think you killed me? That's rich. You vaped a clone. Figured you needed to get that out of your system.

"Anyway, I figure we find Two first, then we'll look for Five. But first we're gonna swing by Zairon." Three headed toward the bridge of the ship, gun in hand.

"Wait…" One shook his head, then jogged to catch up to Three. "Why Zairon?"

"'Cause Four's got something that belongs to us. Didn't you hear? He ended up with the Android. I figure he owes us at least that much after the Pyr incident."

Test

"I tried to think of a test," Three said, "To make sure it was you and not the real Jace Corso. But when I saw you walking away from this shiny new ship, in that port, with nothing but factory-standard security, I knew it had to be you.

"Also, the look on your face when you first saw me. Even now, I can't picture the real Corso with that look." Three contorted his face, attempting to recreate the expression, before breaking down into a fit of hearty laughter. "Priceless."

One suppressed a sigh. This was going to be long journey.