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To Major's surprise, his squad didn't get called in for any disciplinary actions or discussion. Instead, they were assigned checkpoint duty the following night. He relaxed a bit—there usually wasn't much to do at a checkpoint other than provide an official-looking force to deter anyone from doing anything stupid. It was much easier to keep the kids in the background at a checkpoint.
His relaxed mood and relative lack of worry lasted until he was called over for a suspicious car and recognized, with a sinking heart, the morgue wagon. He was unsurprised, and unhappy, when he hunkered down next to the driver's side window and saw two very weirded out familiar faces inside the car.
Ravi had been putting on a fake smile for the supervisor. The smile faded when he recognized his roommate. "Oh, hello, Major," he said, without any noticeable enthusiasm. Liv's face paled even further, if that was possible. Major didn't even have to know her to see that she was terribly nervous. And Liv nervous was generally a bad thing.
"What's your business?" Major asked, all seriousness. Anyone who knew him was aware that his roommate was the medical examiner and his ex-fiancee was the medical examiner's assistant. He couldn't afford any hint of favoritism or the faintest suggestion of anything unprofessional where the two of them were involved.
"We're, uh …" It took Ravi a beat too long to come up with the answer, and his voice held more than a hint of uncertainty. "Picking up a body."
"Pretty sure I'd know if there'd been a murder in this sector." He looked past Ravi at Liv, speaking louder so she wouldn't miss the import of his words. "The sector where it's dangerous for zombies—particularly those who refuse to tan and dye."
"Look," she said, "do you want to know our business?"
Major's heart sank. Typical Liv. No subtlety, jumping right in to barreling through the obstacle. Couldn't blame this on a brain. This was vintage Liv.
"If you want to know our business, I'll tell you," she went on, her voice shaking, "but ignorance, in this case, may be—"
"Major!" Captain Seattle was shining a light into the back of the wagon. As Major straightened and looked at him, the kid added, "I saw something moving back there."
What the hell were they doing? They were going to get themselves killed, him fired—or worse—and all for some typically quixotic poorly-thought-out shenanigans.
"Should we check?" Captain Seattle was waiting for his response.
Major looked in the window again. God, they were just terrible actors, both of them, looking like deer in the headlights, staring at him expecting him to save their asses. As he remained silent, weighing the options, Liv's eyes widened in some combination of fear and anger and disappointment. He hated that look—but he wasn't going to turn her in. Not right now, not at a checkpoint in the middle of the night and see her hauled off in cuffs. And she knew it, which pissed him off. He stood up and looked toward the back of the wagon. "They're clear. Let 'em through!"
Jordan was with Captain Seattle, both of them looking in the back window now, and she stood up on her toes to see Major over the top of the car. "But—"
"Let 'em through!" he repeated, louder, over the sound of Jordan's protest.
Ravi drove on, and the two kids converged on Major. "There was something moving back there, Major."
"Probably a rat. He studies them."
"Big rat," Jordan muttered.
"The size of dogs," Major confirmed. She didn't entirely buy it, but it was the best he could come up with.
He spent the rest of the shift fuming, his anger filling him until he could hardly see straight. After all her high-and-mightiness with him, after everything Seattle had gone through, she thought she could just sail through a checkpoint with god-knows-what—or who—in the back of her car and everything would be fine? And then to basely use their connection to get them out of trouble, without even trying to come up with a story … He wanted to throttle her.
When he got off shift, he drove straight to Liv's apartment, banging on the door without a moment's concern for her neighbors, or Peyton, or anyone else who might be asleep right now. They were having this out, right now, regardless.
She opened the door, and he started immediately, keeping his tone as measured as he could. "Liv."
"Before you start in on me, you should know that I am in no mood," she informed him, shaking a finger at him.
She was in no mood? That was rich. Two major mistakes in two days—Major was in no mood, either, and wasn't about to cater to hers. He followed her into the apartment as she launched into her explanation.
"We were saving a sick child, okay? Getting him out of Seattle."
It was functionally what he had expected, but he still felt sick. Of all the things she could have turned to. "So, human smuggling? If anyone found out I let you do that, I could spend years in a deep freeze—or worse."
"Yeah, well, if Fillmore Graves hadn't caused this whole zombie epidemic to begin with, then we wouldn't be living in a walled city that required such things."
"I may have just saved your life by risking my own," Major pointed out, not letting her drag him into that argument again. They both knew there was no winner if they went down that road. "I know you're not feeling very chatty, but how about a simple thank you?"
She put her arms out in a 'well, if I have to' gesture. "Thank you." The words dripped sarcasm.
"God, you're holier-than-thou." He walked away, trying to regain some amount of self-control, then turned back to her. "You— You think you're the only good zombie. The only zombie trying to make things right."
"Oh, I'm sorry! Maybe it's just that I remember a Major Lilywhite who would have stood by a sick child."
The worst of it was that she wasn't wrong. It would have been so easy for him to have come down on her side of things—if it hadn't been for that bomb, for Natalie and Stoll and the others. And getting a sick child out of Seattle was a laudable goal, all things considered. Maybe if she had asked, if she had trusted him … but she didn't. She and Ravi tried to run the checkpoint with a thin-as-a-dime story, and when he caught them, hadn't even tried to give him plausible deniability. Anyone could have seen there was something hinky about them. He'd be lucky if Chase Graves didn't take disciplinary action. But of course, nothing mattered to Liv but the cause du jour. She never thought ahead or considered what might come of throwing herself headlong into danger.
Well, he was out. He couldn't do this with her. Not anymore. "This thing we've been doing, sleeping with each other because we can, because it's easy … we can't do that anymore." He still wanted to; underneath everything he still loved her. But he couldn't come in second to her causes any longer. "Not when I know that my life choices so offend you."
Liv stared at him, her eyes red-rimmed. From weariness, from emotion? It was hard to tell. "Agreed," she said, her voice cracking on the word.
He hesitated, not wanting to break things off between them this way, wanting her to apologize, to make some gesture of understanding.
Instead she said, forcefully, "Good-bye, Major."
And he left, without another word.