Roshaun was gone -- something other than dead, but still Dairine couldn't find him. Ponch was... greater than any of them could ever have dreamed, now, but so far beyond them that he might as well be gone himself.

Nguyet and Tuyet, burned out in the last battle -- he never had heard what happened, if they'd ever recovered, if they were stuck, powerless. If they'd died.

One life was too many. That war had taken far more than one life.

"I get bitter," Ronan said, after a long moment. He moved to the fridge, pulled out a pitcher of orange juice, and poured them each a glass before returning to the table. If Kaidan were looking for it, he'd probably see the places where Ronan was moving a little too deliberately, covering up the memories as best he could. "I think back to what I was like when I first got here, and I can't even... I was a pissy little wanker."