"So," Tann said. He turned his stylus twice, tapping against his cheek. "You know, I'm not sure where to begin."

"Guess I should take a seat," Ryder said brightly, and dropped into the chair opposite him. Tann scowled across the table. Ryder blanked out. She was pleasantly relaxed, even reclining. She mostly just had no stress left to give. Compared to what she'd just faced, Tann was not the force she'd once thought of him as.

"So. You undermined. I could list your offenses categorically but, we'll just leave it at this. You turned your back on the Initiative's objectives, installed a massively powerful artificial intelligence system into an alien galaxy-control hub, both subjects being technological titans we are still testing and developing an understanding for—"

"Accurate." The arch of Ryder's left foot seriously itched. She tried to ignore it. She tried to feel sorry enough to at least look contrite while she was being disciplined. Tann snapped a sharp look her way, to be clear he did not welcome further interruptions.

"You put us all at tremendous risk, to resurrect a known criminal entity for your own personal feelings."

Ryder didn't look away. She was getting better at steeling herself. Ignoring the imagined shot through the head, the things she'd learned too late. Her enemy. Reyes would be over her shoulder now, whispering for her to let it go. "No. I just remembered that my pledge of service as a Pathfinder extends to all of Andromeda's inhabitants, not just the Initiative."

Tann paused, narrowing his eyes. She could hear small, dull teeth tapping together behind his tight, screwed up mouth. "You opposed Initiative take-over on Kadara. You made that clear, I concede. But I maintain that your actions were reliant upon subterfuge and deception – you exploited the power and the prestige of your position to manipulate others into cooperating with you. Your actions have resulted in the needless expenditure of Initiative personnel and resources, and an overall smear against our reputation—"

"My actions or yours?" Ryder shot back, glare heating up. "Because the Initiative got here so quickly, you could only have been waiting in orbit. An operation of this scale would normally need at least a week of prep. Normally, I shouldn't even expect to see you here."

Tann threw his stylus. She hadn't expected him to, hadn't expected that he would rely on intimidation, or force—or maybe it was none of those things, maybe he simply couldn't contain himself. "There are certain expectations that come with my position, responsibilities you would never understand—" he snarled, and Ryder leapt to her feet, throwing her weight over his desk so their faces were scant inches apart.

"Can't I?" she snarled. "I think I understand just fine."

The moment stretched, without breaking.

"Leave," Tann said, his mouth still drawn back. "You are unfit to be the Pathfinder any longer."

"That isn't up to you," Ryder shot back, even though she had no real intention of taking back her mantle.

Tann's hands came down to press flat and hard against his desk. "You were never fit for the position. You inherited your title by nepotism."

"You weren't exactly democratically elected, last time I checked," Ryder countered. "Appoint another Pathfinder, if you want, but I don't answer to you. With or without SAM, I'm not going to stop doing what Andromeda needs."

Before they could exchange another fight, Ryder turned, and she marched out of Tann's office, and into the low Kadaran sun, the familiar orange light. Cora fell in line behind her, with Drack bringing up the rear. Ryder, set on her angry march, made herself slow, glance back. "I maybe lost your jobs."

"What job?" Drack grunted. "Like I give a shit about Tann. Point me where you want things shot, let me see Kesh sometimes, and I'm your guy."

As usual, Drack left Ryder struggling not to cry. Cora caught her eye, shrugging, wearing her customized smile – equal parts exasperation and resigned amusement. Cora would always be a soldier. Ryder dropped her eyes, feeling momentarily ashamed. "If you want to go back to the Initiative, I completely understand your position," Ryder began to say.

"Are you kidding me?" Cora interrupted. "Ryder, have you even met your father? He got fired at least twice a week. I say we give it a few days. They don't have time to be mad at you for long."

Ryder had to stop again so she could squint up at the sun. "Oh. Well. It's true that I don't have SAM anymore. I can't really Pathfind the way I used to. Not so good at, um, math."

"No one ever thought you were good at math," Drack supplied, helpfully. "I told you. We're here to shoot things."

"I love you guys," Ryder wailed. Cora thumped between her shoulder blades, now striding past and forward, laughing under her breath.

"You're still a little shit with bad taste," she reported. "Sir."

After Meridian, things had changed. And they had changed quickly.

What began as a clamor of the few who noticed the encryption and data leech being applied to their private trades quickly amassed and condensed as the Initiative troops also began to realize that the city of Kadara itself was cleaving out a small handler's fee, every time they bought so much as a coffee.

The Initiative's privacy and security forces were deployed. The gangs of Kadara briefly dabbled with the idea of paper currency as a work-around, or a barter-and-trade system, or…?

And then in the end, the problem was solved when people learned they might be eligible for a low-interest mortgage.

"Mortgages," Ryder moaned, now on the third page of Suvi's summary. "Why are they here? Why are there mortgages in space? I guess you can leave the jungle but the jungle doesn't leave us." She stared blackly at Suvi's thoughtful, helpfully labeled flow chart. Too many numbers.

"It's really gorgeous," Suvi gushed, now perched on the edge of her chair. She'd come to visit Ryder in the sickbay, almost immediately after she'd woken up. Her crew had dragged Ryder and Reyes back out of Meridian, following his resurrection. They'd both been unconscious. Ryder had slept for two days straight, and was according to Lexi 'more dehydrated than a mummified lizard.' Reyes, moved now to the cot adjacent to her own, was still resting. Ryder, remembering her own adjustment to a less powerful SAM, did not begrudge him.

Suvi continued her download, explaining, "Really, Ryder, after you took off, the Initiative started moving in really aggressively. They'd mostly gotten people into treatment, but it was like living in a police state. Curfews, random searches, violence, rioting. All of that. I thought it was all going to explode. Then Aya sent the Angaran ships over, seeing as they're still quite sensitive about the whole foreign-invaders-thing—"

"Imagine that," Ryder noted. She shoved a spoonful of mashed casserole into her mouth. Again with the fucking casserole. Maybe Drack would fry one for her.

Suvi was almost bouncing. "But then! Ooh, Ryder, it's so exciting! A real bank! Well, I think it's exciting. Kallo keeps talking about some stupid Salarian epic—sounds very Orwellian. But I," she paused to smile hugely, "I am a home owner." She folded her hands in her lap, apparently thrilled.

Ryder personally had some very serious concerns about health code and safety violations concerning a home on Kadara, but she smiled just the same. "Congrats Suvi!"

"Thanks." Suvi wriggled around. "Anyway. Once people realized they could start investing in businesses and development and infrastructure, they did just that! They've already begun building. I'm told the process has been lightning fast, nobody seems to be sure how it's all come together so perfectly."

Ryder smiled, glazing over slightly as Suvi continued cheerfully rambling, finally leaving so that Ryder could continue her rest. Ryder, for her part, scooted down into her blankets, and rolled onto her side to face Reyes' sleeping profile. Her leg swung over the empty space between their bodies, connecting to his thigh. She massaged, as inappropriately as she was able. "You've been busy," she accused.

Reyes rolled back to face her, smirking. "A little more to the left."

"Sounds like you and SAM are spying and filching," Ryder accused. The anxiety she hadn't even noticed herself carrying melted away, the longer he smiled at her, the more she was assured that his face moved and ticked the way it used to, a well-oiled machine.

"Spying? I don't spy. Nobody's as interesting as they think they are—except you, of course. Your secrets, I always want to know."

"Don't distract me," Ryder protested.

Reyes laughed, and cautiously came nearer, to sit on the edge of her bed, his arms becoming a wall around her head. He went on defending himself. "I've simply set up a fund where a small handler's fee amasses." He shrugged. "Think of it as a sales' tax, a small price to pay for financial security. Less than a tenth of percent." He ruined this objectively reasonable perspective by laughing evilly.

"You cannot," Ryder said at once. She pointed at him sternly. "Reyes. Don't."

"Taxes are perfectly legal," he said, with a calm smirk. "I'll use it to build schools."

Ryder opened her mouth, closed it, and squinted at him. "What kind of schools?"

He rolled his eyes. "Oh, probably the kind where kids learn how to strip a car in under ten minutes—no, my lawfully good overseer, the kind of schools where children are given free lunch and suffer through long division."

"Well. That's." Ryder struggled for a moment. "That's nice. And I am at least chaotically good. So I should believe that all the…proceeds from this little operation of yours are going towards building a civilization, right?"

"You should definitely believe that." Reyes purred. He was easing himself down, wincing a little as joints and muscles unused to movement creaked with protest. Ryder hissed defensively, drawing her limbs stiffly inward. His feet brushed against her own as he settled down beside her.

"What're you doing?" she asked. Her own special agony, pretending not to yearn for him.

"I'm tired." He confessed, his face against her neck. "But you were too far away."

She held perfectly still, even as her muscles began to ache, waiting for him to sleep again.

In the coming days, they would both grow strong enough to leave their beds. Ryder, to have her explosive meeting with Tann, and Reyes to tie off the ends of the Collective. Ryder had thought that after Tann's denouncement, her more obvious split from the Initiative's agenda, there would be repercussions among personnel. Crew members who wanted to return home, or else hesitated to risk their expected paychecks, their military pensions.

But she should have expected more from a bunch of military weirdos that'd so easily blasted themselves 600 years across space.

"I was thinking," Kallo mused when she joined him in the cockpit. "First, I should begin taking basic self-defense classes. Second, I drew up a new charter for the Tempest. From now on, we operate independently."

He passed her a copy of the charter. Every one of her crew members had signed—with endorsements from the other Pathfinders.

Ryder sniffed, trying for gruffness. "So we've finally become space pirates?"

"We have a license," Kallo protested. He was smiling very brightly.

"How exactly am I supposed to pay you?" Ryder asked.

Kallo flipped to page 36, pointing. "Shares in all loot and plunder."

Ryder braced herself. "Kallo. We probably have to turn in the Tempest. It's Initiative property."

"Actually, it's Vidal's." Kallo's features twitched strangely, torn between distaste and overwhelming gratitude. "He bought and presented it to us as a dowry."

"What." Ryder was suddenly alarmed. "Wait, and you took it?"

Kallo looked into the distance. "I really, really love this ship."

To her dismay, Ryder discovered that the attitude expressed by her pilot had infected the rest of her crew. Their formerly universally disapproval seemed to have shifted overnight into a resigned acceptance. That, and they seemed more interested in keeping the Tempest than standing up for Ryder's human rights and/or free will.

She complained as such to Vetra, who mostly sighed. "You know, you pretty much got everything you wanted out of this, and also you shouldn't blush so much when you're complaining?"

"I'm not blushing," Ryder seethed.

Vetra shrugged again. "I dunno Ryder, you brought the guy back to life and saved the world. I think you're pretty locked in. Nice to see you're still able to run around like this, though. I was kinda worried when I heard about SAM. Figured that maybe you were gonna ditch for civilian normalcy. Start a family, have a favorite sitcom, you know. The viewer's life."

"Hah!" Ryder laughed. She kept laughing. She laughed for an inappropriately long time. "A family. Me. Mrs. Vidal." She continued to guffaw.

Vetra snorted. "Don't look so happy, it's gross."

Gil popped his head in, his face smeared with grease and bits of soldered-off metal scrap. "I love you but my kid is absolutely not going to be playing with yours."

"Go back to your punishment," Vetra ordered, as Ryder squeaked indignantly. She wasn't sure which she found to be the more offensive – the thought of having children, or the idea that her children would be anything other than perfect tiny angels. How unfair.

Gil went back to his soldering, muttering about the repercussions of sticking one's neck out for their Commanding-Officer-slash-Pathfinder, the injustice of his universe, the obvious lack of shitty, boring welding that Ryder was clearly not being subjected to, etcetera.

"There are worse things," Vetra offered, and then rolled her eyes again as Ryder continued to splutter. "Jeez, relax, if you had kids they would have to be like the most boring children ever. They would be constantly exhausted by you. Really, they have no chance."

Ryder decided that the best way to advance herself on this topic was to drop it like a hot potato. That, and she'd just noticed the two heads poking hopefully around the armory door. "Vetra, how long are you gonna let Liam and Jaal crush on you for?"

"I can't help my natural state of being," Vetra returned, then sighed. "I don't know Ryder. I can't focus. Sid's still dating that idiot Krogan with his stupid ship and she won't listen to me—can you tell her that he isn't cool? Please. It will mean a lot, coming from you. Actually, bring Reyes along. Have him shop lift. Get arrested. I will pay you."

"I'll think about it," Ryder lied, and started backing away. "I'll think long and hard and good."

Vetra's eyes narrowed. "You're so full of shit," she complained. "We can still make you weld things."

"No, you can't," Ryder muttered under her breath. Very quietly. She had decided to let her crew muscle things around for a little while, after what she'd just put them through.

"The only reason we didn't," Vetra was still complaining, "I would just like to make explicitly clear, is that Lexi convinced us all that there was no point in punishing someone who didn't feel so much as a drop of remorse for their actions." She was really gearing up for it. Ryder beat a hasty retreat. Everyone was entitled to their bad boy phase, as far as she was concerned. They were also allowed to get stuck in it. She hoped that Sid got a bitching tattoo in the meantime.

Speaking of admiring the morally gray and potentially dangerous, Liam and Jaal were still commiserating, as she discovered when she rounded the corner. Ryder fixed them both with her most authoritative glare. "If you don't figure this out you'll basically be dating each other."

"The timing isn't right. She'd be too sensitive," Jaal reported. He seemed glum. Liam clapped his shoulder bracingly, shooting Ryder a thumbs-up. "The path forward is not always a bright one," Liam intoned gravely. He slapped Jaal on the shoulder again. "Nevertheless, we owe it to ourselves and to the future—we must persevere. We must not lose hope. May the best man win."

"I could ask for no better rival, or for a better friend," Jaal returned. The two exchanged a look of intense, respectful acknowledgement. Ryder's face twisted grotesquely.

"I don't want you to watch more movies, please? Please stop watching them." She was ignored. "Excuse me. Were you even paying attention to my drama? To—Kadara? String of murders, cults, and political intrigues? Did you seriously notice anything other than Vetra?"

Jaal looked wounded by this accusation. Liam was openly dismissive. "Whatever. Enjoy your life as a married woman. The hunt does not end for all."

"I'm not married," Ryder said, a little too quickly. She scrunched up her nose, trying to think of something that was as mean and concise as possible. "At least I wasn't too much of a weenie to bust a move."

Liam began laughing in deep, breathless guffaws. "Bust a move. Ryder, your only move was resurrecting people from beyond the grave, like how the hell is a man supposed to shake that one off?" he lowered his voice to a Reyes/Neanderthal impression, remembering to add a Spanish accent only halfway through, "Hey it's been great, thanks for the Jesus role play, I'd really like to stress that you have been just terrific throughout this process of finding each other, and ourselves—"

Jaal had lowered his face to the floor, trying to hide his smile. Ryder set her hands on her hips, determined to wait it out. Impressions never died well. They never died well. She beamed this thought to Liam. And then caved to peer pressure, snapping back in an equally dumb-sounding voice, "I'm Liam and I don't know how to talk to ladies who're taller than me, dur."

"What?" Liam asked, surprised.

"What?" Jaal echoed.

"Shut up," Ryder mumbled. She stomped away, mortified, promising herself to never speak to her crew again, ever.

Café Tiramisu had survived the brief occupation without ever once having to close its doors or sacrifice a single unnecessary flounce of décor. It seemed true that people were generally inclined to leave the coffee suppliers alone. Reyes parked himself at a corner table, his back comfortably guarded by a tall, expectedly garish Corinthian column while he waited, and sipped. Good coffee. Better cake. He should take some back with him.

He knew Keema the second she walked through the door, even with her new face. She was different, newly sculpted. More purple across the cheeks, more slanted around the eyes. Her surgeon had been a good one, subtle, tweaking the minor angles of her face for maximum character impact. It was surprisingly difficult to recognize her, even when so little had changed. But she still walked the same, like the world was slightly behind on its loan payment. She strode between the tightly positioned wrought-iron tables to greet him, and Reyes stood to pull out her chair. "It's been a while. Want to try a human drink? Wakes you up."

"Sounds frightful," she noted, taking the seat across from him. "You've no idea how many people I had working on your message, pulling it apart for tracers. I thought for certain it was a trap. But then I saw you walking around on the vids, arm in arm with the Pathfinder. The former Pathfinder."

Reyes wanted to correct her, to argue that Ryder was still Pathfinder. The official story. There was no way Keema could know, no way for her to have found out for certain. She was merely clever, merely testing. Instead, he said, "I wondered how long it would take you to come seeping through the woodwork."

Her nose wrinkled. "I don't think that translated well. Or perhaps you meant to be foul? In any event, I'll admit, I'm surprised," Keema's face kept itself rigid, a mockery of relaxing. "I wasn't aware that I'd been consorting with a man able to ignore his own death."

"I have many complexities." Reyes agreed. Keema's fingers tapped a slow beat against the table top, measuring him. She glanced back, taking stock of the café's other patrons, the slow chink of china and silver wear.

"A new chapter, then," she murmured. The ships that had always circled the Port's skies for docking spun, in lazy queues for permission to land. "The Charlatan has become the eyes over every shoulder, the hand in every pocket. We can do things we'd never imagined."

"We could," Reyes agreed. The waitress brought over Keema's coffee, and left it steaming between the two of them without even the niceties of a soft murmur. Keema reached for her cup.

"You want to evolve?"

"You never know. We could be the sort of criminals who do things legally."

"Oh yes, legally," Keema agreed. She sniffed at the coffee's steam. "There are benefits. Fewer headshots. More paperwork." She sipped, her eyes narrowing a little. "Hm. Better than I thought it would be. At least it has flavor."

"You should try it with cinnamon."

"I'm well aware of your feelings for cinnamon. Enough is enough." She took another sip.

There was a great shout of laughter from the street down below, pitched to carry over the city's usual roar of commotion. Reyes smiled in response. "I never wanted to build an empire out of blood."

"Just as long as you got the empire," Keema returned. She smiled a little. "Are you going to tell me you have the robot in your head? You must. There's no other way. I helped myself to your medical reports, I saw your body, the Pathfinder standing over you. I thought she would do anything for you, and I was right."

Reyes tried not to roll his eyes. "You have a remarkable talent for congratulating yourself over another's achievements." He added more cinnamon to his own coffee, as his mother had made it.

Keema did not quite wink—it was not an expression the Angara naturally employed, but she angled her eyes severely, wickedly. "What would you imagine me do – diplomacy? Management?"

"Your implicit and natural calling is politics," Reyes agreed. Keema beamed at him.

"Politics are dirty. Three months from now there'll be pictures of me leaving an orgy for my Thursday morning meeting."

"At least that means we have a news station," Reyes conceded. He shrugged. Maybe, there had been a time when he would have said more, trusted her to know the full extent of what he could do, disclosed the magnitude of trust Ryder had bequeathed onto him. A massive, unrestrained bulkhead of power – power enough to live in wealth and splendor for the rest of his life, with only the barest hint of effort, if he so chose it. "We got Kadara on her feet," Reyes continued. "Which way she'll walk remains to be seen. But the Collective remains the largest organized, unified group of natives. Someone should herd them."

"So, we've come full circle?" Keema asked, wry tilt at her mouth. "Well. There have been salt tycoons and sugar kings. We don't have to pull our money from warfare and drugs. I suppose."

"I'm not staying." Reyes said. He didn't know it was true, for sure, until he said it. But it was obvious, of course he couldn't stay. His only feeling upon relinquishing his position was relief.

Keema had finished her drink. "I didn't think you would," she said calmly. "Why would you? You've already died for it. Or her. It doesn't really matter—especially if you've got a computer in your head, doing all the work for you anyway."

Reyes smiled like he was ready for a poker game. Keema rolled her eyes. "Fine, don't admit it. You aren't needed here, if that's what you wanted to ask me. Go, be with your Pathfinder. Find a better planet, make a new city. We can't really be the only neutral ground – the more there are, the weaker the Nexus becomes. You know this."

"I'm still keeping an eye on the money," Reyes said, mildly. "You understand? Requests for fund allocations go through me. I want some goddamn parks around here. Why don't we have any decent street food? I don't even know what I'm eating half the time."

Keema shuddered faintly, rolled her eyes, and rose to leave. "Darling, the next time you die, do try to leave your compulsive control issues in the afterlife?"

Reyes stood as well, extending his hand across the table. "Start a cult for an archon of chaos behind my back, and I'll leave your body in the nastiest creeper pit I can find."

Keema laughed, then reached back to shake his hand. "Oh, Reyes. Please. Let's leave the intimidation for the less-reformed."

"You're going to be okay?" Scott asked. Ryder sipped again, before answering. They were perched atop one of Kadara's many derelict roofs, watching the city's busy night life. Down below, people were rushing through their new lives, eager to start what they had spent so long waiting for. Ryder smiled, passing the bottle of whiskey back to her brother.

"I'll be okay if you don't tell Lexi I'm drinking."

Scott winced. "Oh, yeah. I forgot. You're supposed to give it another week, aren't you? Gimme that."

Ryder twisted away from him, shoving down another mouthful. He had to pry the bottle free from her, grumbling.

"I'll be okay," Ryder assured him, licking her lips clean. "I thought I'd be freaking out that maybe I was on a journey to a place where, you know, Mom and Dad disapprove. But it turns out to actually be extremely satisfying? Anyway, yeah. You can peace."

"Really? Because I thought it'd be kinda cool to tag along. Ryder twins versus world. We can get bunk beds." He snickered at the look on her face. "Fine, I'll stay here and get my ass handed to me by Tann."

"You're so good at it."

"Fuck you," Scott shot back. He took another swig. "Hey, does Cora hate me?"

Ryder covered her ears and shut her eyes. "I absolutely refuse to be involved in your love life."

Scott smacked her arm, then proceeded to a more aggressive chokehold. "Remember that time I carried your dead boyfriend for like five miles?"

Ryder choked, spitting hatefully. They wrestled with furious intensity for a moment, until the expected voice answered Scott's question. "No, actually, I don't remember at all."

Reyes dropped his legs down on Ryder's other side, swinging his feet so they thudded against the building's other wall in an even beat. Ryder tugged on his sleeve for assistance, her ability to speak unfortunately compromised.

Reyes glanced over. He'd somehow stolen Ryder's drink, and swigged from it now. "Be nice to her."

"How did you even find us?" Scott asked. "I checked. You don't even have a tracker on her. All this time, I was so sure there was a tracker!"

"My heart tells me where to go," Reyes said lightly. He reached over and pried Ryder free. She burrowed into his side, glaring over at Scott.

"Go away you thug," she hissed, now kicking a little too fiercely at his knees. "Ask Cora is she hates you yourself."

"Bitch," Scott accused. They made revolting faces at one other. Reyes kept drinking. Eventually, without saying goodbye, Scott leapt over the roof's edge, jetting down to the ground. Ryder watched her brother weave his way through Kadara's crowds, Reyes arm wrapped snuggly around her shoulders. She gleamed up at him, smiling.

"Your heart tells you? You bought me the Tempest?" she cackled. "It must be hard, being so into me."

Reyes was unperturbed. "You love me," he teased. "You brought me back from the dead."

"Shut up," Ryder growled. She almost pressed her hands over her ears. "I was saving Kadara. You were like, a detour."

"Oh, sure," Reyes laughed. He tightened the arm he'd thrown over her shoulder just as she was about to make a show of storming away. "You think I'd let you go?" He dragged her in, until their bodies fit snuggly together, her cheek pressed against his shoulder.

"You better not," Ryder grumbled. Her ears were burning hot. She hated blushing. "I don't see anyone else pulling this shit for you."

She tried to keep her face hidden as he pulled back, but he caught her by the cheeks, pinching. "What's this? You're embarrassed?"

"You're too confident!" Ryder moaned. "I let you get comfortable. I completely fucked up any shot I might have had at dominance. There's no mystery left for you. I can't believe I did this for a crime lord who won't even tell me he loves me. I'm so ashamed." She slapped his hands away from his face. "Keep laughing and you're dead."

He kept laughing, stroking her back. He laughed differently, compared to before. His eyes weren't as sad, as heavy. "I can't tell you," he said. "I want to, but I can't."

"You tell me right this fucking second," Ryder growled. She sensed her advantage, pressed the opening. She rocked her weight towards him and snapped at his chin. He leaned away from her, while holding her closer.

"If I tell you, you might not feel like you have to resurrect me next time."

"There is no next time!" Ryder yowled. She wriggled frantically to free her arms, yanking her hair free of its tie to show him her newest feature, one that remained hidden unless she parted her hair just so. "Do you see this? I have a fucking bald patch. From stress."

Reyes bent nearer. "It's hardly a bald patch. More like a dot."

"It's a centimeter in diameter!" Ryder screamed. "Do you know how it feels to pull out a chunk of your own hair while shampooing!?"

"My poor girl," he said. He kissed her temple, her cheekbone. He bent around her. "Who knew I'd be so hard on you?"

"Literally everyone," Ryder mumbled. She curled her fingers into the fabric of his jacket. "Seriously, everybody called it."

"If you go bald, I'll still love you," he said. Ryder went still, feeling the moment. Savoring it. The big ol' L-word, from the biggest criminal in the galaxy. She felt satisfyingly petty. She wanted to gloat to her mother, to Lexi. She squirmed against his suddenly rigid arms.

"Let go, I wanna kiss."

"You have to wait, I'm too shy." Reyes answered her. He was almost cackling, matching her desperate attempts to break free of him, thwarting her attempts to injure him enough so he'd let go.

She squirmed more intensely. "Let me see. Let me see!" She smashed her whole body against him, she threw them both backwards to roll across the rooftop, she tried to kick him in the shin, she bit his shoulder. He ignored all of it, rolling her under him, and kissing her with annoying, thrilling confidence. She smiled into his mouth.

When he pulled away he didn't go far, only asking, "What happens now?"

Ryder blinked. "What do you mean? Why are you asking me?"

Reyes grinned. "Because where you go, I go. I don't need to be on Kadara anymore, and anyway, all I really want is to be with you. Wherever you go, that's where adventure will be."

She wondered, for a moment, if SAM was still there, listening behind Reyes' eyes. She smiled extra widely. "That works," she agreed. "I need someone to help me with all the math."

"I'm very good at math," Reyes said. He was taking her clothes off, he was alive. She could listen to him speak for hours, for days. She leaned up to kiss him again. She lifted her arms, let her shirt be stripped over her head. Nothing should ever be between them again. "Has anyone ever undressed you on a rooftop before?"

"No," she admitted. "But there's a first time for everything."

"Really?" he asked. He held on to her. "That's good. Because I want to do everything with you."