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The longer he was head of Fillmore Graves, the more Major appreciated the quiet familiarity of home to come back to. The peacefulness of an empty house was a balm after a day full of answering other people's questions. And on those occasions when he came home and Ravi wasn't at work, it was restful to be around someone he knew he could trust with his life—or his afterlife, as the case might be.

Tonight there was a delicious smell pervading the house. Ravi was home and in the kitchen, it seemed. Part of Major missed the days when delicious smells meant meat or vegetables or baked goods, but these days, 'delicious' pretty much meant brains.

He frowned, dropping his keys on the table on his way to the kitchen. "You cooking brains, Ravi? I thought you already had your monthlies."

Then he stopped short, because the chef in his kitchen was Liv Moore. There was a dizzying moment when Major felt as though time had rewound and spun forward again the way it should have been, and she was his wife, home cooking dinner in their kitchen on a normal night after work. Then it spun back again, and he reengaged with the real world, where she was cooking brains in his kitchen and hadn't spoken more than a few words to him since her boyfriend was executed.

She was smiling at him now, though, which made Major wonder what kind of brains she was on today. "Ravi told me you'd been having a tough go of it. I know, your favorite comfort food is double chocolate brownies, but brain cannelloni just felt right."

While she shook the sauteeing brain bits in a skillet, Major stood in the doorway and watched her, living that strange split double life where she had been supposed to be here, and now she was here again, and all he cared about was having a few moments with her, just the two of them, knowing that she was still alive—so to speak. And it didn't hurt that she seemede to be just Liv right now, no strange brains guiding her words or actions.

Liv had made a whole meal—salad, and bread, and wine, to go with the cannelloni—and they sat and ate like old friends, chatting about the lightest of topics, neither of them wanting to delve into the darker issues of New Seattle.

Major told her about the two dancers who were applying to leave Seattle to go on their reality show, and she shook her head.

"How does that work? So, you let the winners out of Seattle to compete on the show and they give you ad time?"

"Mm-mm." Major shook his head. "There's no way I'm doing that. Besides, could you imagine the commercial? 'Dance of a Lifetime, sponsored by Fillmore Graves, the zombie mercenaries who built the wall your uncle's trapped behind'."

Liv laughed, as he had intended her to. Then she got serious on him. "How are you holding up over there?"

Major sighed, not ready for the real world to intrude on this precious moment with her. "It's the worst. My job is pretending to be RoboCop, but knowing the Buzzfeed quiz explicitly told me I'm a C-3PO."

Reaching across the table, Liv put a hand on his arm. "Well, I am on board for all your reforms, for what it's worth." She started collecting the dishes.

"And Ravi keeps reminding me that C-3PO's an Ewok god, so I've got that going for me. The cannelloni was amazing, Liv. Thank you."

"I thought you could do with a pick-me-up," she said, heading for the kitchen with their plates. "So, I dropped by the Scratching Post, picked up some fitness-guru brains. It seemed like a safe bet."

"Fitness guru. Huh. Hence the sudden urge to gun my lats."

Liv leaned over and plucked an empty brain tube from the trash, waving it as she turned to him. "You sneak a little appetizer? Was my cannelloni a failure?"

"I … replaced your delicious brains with disgusting brain tube paste while you were dressing the salad," Major admitted.

"Dude …"

"I'm sorry. You cooking for me means the world to me." He wished he could tell her—show her—just how much it meant. "But I can't really afford anyone else living in my head at the moment. Not now."

"I … understand. I should have thought of that. I'm sorry."

"No, don't be. Really, I loved the dinner, and the chance to sit and talk with you about stuff that has nothing to do with Fillmore Graves. Feel free to drop by anytime."

"But with brain tubes."

"For now. At least until we have Seattle calmed down."

Liv smiled. "When will that be? Ten years from now?"

Privately, Major wasn't convinced Seattle would still be standing ten years from now. He only wished he was. But he didn't want to spoil the mood, so he grinned back at her. "Fortunately, we're zombies, so in ten years we'll still be just as young and beautiful and ready to rock a fitness guru brain as we are today."

"Thank goodness for small favors." Liv turned her head toward the kitchen. "Well, I feel the sudden need to go get a run in. I don't suppose you'd mind …"

"Cleaning up the mess you left in my kitchen?"

"Something like that."

"It's the least I can do." Major got up and walked her to the door. "Liv."

"Hm?"

"Just … be careful. Something's weird about this van bombing. I'm afraid there's worse to come before it's over."

"You know something?"

"I know nothing, which is what makes me worry."

She punched him in the arm. "Endorphins are good for what ails ya, son."

And the brain takes over again. Major nodded. "I'll keep that in mind."