Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The walls still smelled like solder and ozone.

Judy had kicked off her boots hours ago, maybe longer. They were half-tucked under the workbench, laces soaked and bent. Valerie’s jacket was hanging from the back of the old desk chair, still wet, still stained. Her shirt clung damp to her spine as she sat on the edge of the bed, forearms resting on her knees, breathing slowly evening out. The room was dim except for the red strip-light that buzzed behind the shelf of BD drives. The blinds were half-closed, just enough to let in the smear of a passing city.

Outside, Charter Street kept moving like it always did. Sirens low and far off. Someone yelling two floors down. Rainwater dripped onto the fire escape.

Inside, everything was quiet.

Judy moved behind her, barefoot steps soft on the old floorboards. She hadn’t said much since they stumbled back in. Just stripped down to a tank and boxers and checked the stabilizer one more time four times now. Valerie hadn’t stopped her. She let it happen, let Judy press a hand to her chest like she was listening for something deeper than pulse.

“Still hurts?” Judy asked, finally, voice low and hoarse. She settled beside her, shoulder to shoulder, their legs lined up with no space in between.

Valerie nodded once. Her fingers flexed, palm up. “Not as bad. Just… feels like I got lit on fire and then spit back out.”

Judy gave a small sound, somewhere between a laugh and a breath. “Sounds romantic, Val.”

Valerie didn’t smile, not yet. She was watching her own reflection in the mirror across the room. Her red hair was plastered in strands across her face. Her braid had come undone during the fight. Maybe it was the run, or maybe it never mattered.

“They’re gone,” she said. “Arasaka. Johnny. That relic chip you ripped from my neural slot…”

“That shock fried the relic chip, and severing the connection made it safe to pull out." Judy leaned forward, elbows on her thighs now too. “Whatever was left of that Mikoshi server tree is a brick. And we didn’t need Alt. We did it without her.”

Valerie turned her head, slow. Judy’s hair was half-dried, pink and green darkened near the roots. The right side of her head showed a clean brown and buzzed short implant still flickering now and then.

“And what did we plug in instead?”

Judy blinked. “Neural matrix prototype. Whatever’s left of it. That’s what NUSA gave us in exchange for handing over the relic.”

Valerie let that settle. “So… you rewired a soul prison with tech we barely understood. Without a net.”

Judy looked at her sideways. “Yeah. Not just me, we had help. And I’d do it again if it meant keeping you here.”

That silenced the room for a while.

The hum of the BD monitor clicked up a gear in the other room, likely a diagnostic running on loop. Valerie reached for Judy’s hand. Found it already waiting.

Her thumb brushed the gold ring.

“They’ll come knocking,” Valerie said. “The ones who think we owe them now.”

“Let ’em.” Judy’s grip tightened. “We didn’t walk out of that hell just to get pushed into another one.”

A gust of wind rattled the window. The faint smell of damp pavement drifted in. Valerie closed her eyes and breathed it in her whole body aching, but alive.

When she opened them again, Judy had leaned her head against her shoulder, forehead resting just below the lotus tattoo.

“Could’ve lost you,” Judy murmured. “Again.”

Valerie’s hand curled around hers. “But you didn’t.”

The air inside the room shifted then. Not lighter. Not safer, but a promise to try, and make it together.

Outside, the city kept screaming, but inside that apartment, it finally felt like something was holding.

Valerie’s fingers twitched.

It was subtle at first just a small flex like her nerves were catching up to the moment. But then her left arm jerked, a sharp pull from shoulder to elbow, muscle locking for a second before letting go. She sucked in a breath through her teeth.

Judy sat up straighter. “Val?”

“Yeah. I…” Valerie winced, hand drifting to her ribs. “Something’s…shit. It’s like a knife behind my spine. Burning low and then sharp. Down my side.”

Judy was already moving, swinging around to kneel in front of her. Her hands didn’t hesitate one went to Valerie’s jaw, guiding her to look at her, the other pressed firm along her ribs just below the lyrics tattoo 'don't tell me I'm dying'.

“Which side?” she asked, eyes narrowing.

“Right. Where the port ties into the smartweave... it’s sparking, or feels like it.”

Judy’s fingers hovered for a second, then traced along the edge of the neural slot near Valerie’s neck. The skin there was hot. Not fever power routing wrong. Pulse firing too close to bone.

“Shit.” Judy sat back, rubbing at her temple. “That shock didn’t just fry the relic. It took out half your cyberware’s routing too.”

Valerie’s mouth tightened. “How bad?”

Judy didn’t answer right away. She looked toward the shelf where her toolkit sat, wires half-coiled and still damp from the rain. “Without seeing the internals? I don’t know yet. I’ve never seen a surge from a neural matrix hit that hard. And your mods were all wired for compatibility with the relic.”

Valerie leaned back, biting down against the tremor in her right hand. “Feels like the internal dampeners are trying to kick on and shorten mid-cycle.”

“Probably are.” Judy moved to stand, pacing toward the wall console. Her voice was low but steady. “If the matrix fried the priority links, you might be running on backup node defaults. Which means... your body's trying to compensate for tech that doesn’t know how to talk to itself anymore.”

Valerie didn’t look up. “Like being a half ghost.”

Judy’s hand froze over the console. She turned, her jaw tense. “Don’t say that.”

Valerie didn’t push it.

The hum of the streetlamp outside flared a little louder, casting pale blue across the bed. The clock clicked softly in the background. Somewhere in the walls, the old wiring groaned with age.

Judy crossed back over. She knelt again, more careful this time, her fingers brushing against Valerie’s now-shaking right hand. She took it, and held it still.

“We need to see Vik,” she said quietly. “Soon.”

Valerie exhaled through her nose. “And if he says it’s permanent?”

“Then we figure it out.” Judy squeezed her hand. “You’re not a system to debug, Val. You’re…” she stopped herself, then said it anyway. “You’re the reason I didn’t let that place turn me into someone else.”

A beat passed.

Valerie tilted her head until their foreheads touched, eyes closing. Her breath warmed the space between them.

“Guess we’re still the mess they couldn’t clean up,” she murmured.

Judy gave the faintest smile, barely there. “And the one they couldn’t delete.”

The pain was fading again, but not cleanly. It left aftershocks like static under the skin, her spine buzzing wrong. Valerie stayed still, let Judy hold her hand like it was the only thread left tying her to solid ground. Maybe it was.

Judy’s thumb passed slowly across her knuckles, once, twice. Her other hand hovered near the neural slot again, not touching this time. Just watching Valerie breathe through it.

“We’ll see Vik,” Valerie murmured, her voice rough but steady. “First thing.”

Judy looked up. The red light from the BD shelf caught the green in her hair and scattered it across the side of her face.

“Yeah,” she said. “Good.”

Valerie leaned back against the wall. The ache had settled in her ribs now, thudding low and deep like something was trying to knock from the inside. She didn’t move. Just let her eyes drift toward the blinds.

“Could be dangerous,” she said. “After what we did… half the tower’s probably still smoldering. They’ll be hunting for someone to pin it on.”

Judy’s brow twitched. She didn’t say anything, just shifted to sit beside her again. Back to shoulder. Shoulder to side. Her warmth grounded everything. The silence, the dread, even the pulse of the city outside that still hadn’t stopped screaming.

“They know it was us,” Valerie added. “Or will soon enough.”

Judy tilted her head against the wall. “Then we go fast. Quiet. In and out. You won’t walk into that clinic alone.”

Valerie’s eyes flicked toward her. “Wasn’t planning to.”

The moment stretched. The BD monitor in the next room clicked again one of the drives spinning down.

Valerie rubbed at her temple with the heel of her hand, then let it drop. Her fingers flexed again, slower this time, the tremor still hiding in the joints.

“Hey,” she said, quieter. “Songbird.”

Judy turned her head slightly.

Valerie kept her gaze low. “What happened to her? I remember… the relic was only half the deal. Turning her over to Myers was the rest.”

Judy’s mouth pressed into a thin line. Her eyes didn’t move.

“For all I know?” she said finally, “they took her straight back to Washington.”

Valerie lifted her head, brows drawn. “That’s it?”

Judy nodded, but her jaw stayed clenched. “Reed was waiting. When we handed over the relic, he handed her off. Last I heard… Myers kept her alive. Barely.”

Valerie’s hand drifted toward the base of her neck, thumb grazing the raw skin near the implant ports. The ghost of the relic still hummed there, phantom pain folded into memory.

“She was a bargaining chip,” Valerie said.

“Yeah.” Judy’s voice was flat. “And a prisoner. Long before we got to her.”

They sat like that for a while, eyes on nothing. The rain had slowed outside, just mist now tapping at the glass. Streetlights turned the wet into something softer orange streaks, blurred halos around the corners of things.

Valerie didn’t speak again for a while. Just sat there, holding Judy’s hand like it might keep everything stitched together until morning.

Judy’s grip shifted fingers lacing tighter around Valerie’s like she didn’t want to say it sitting still. Then she turned, bringing Valerie’s hand up slow, her lips brushing the backs of her knuckles.

Warm, and careful. A pause folded inside it.

Valerie blinked, the kiss landing quieter than any words might’ve.

“There’s something else,” Judy said. Her voice came out low, like it might crack if she rushed it. “Something you should know.”

Valerie didn’t move. Just watched her.

Judy didn’t let go. Her thumb passed once more over the gold ring. She stayed close, foreheads nearly touching again, breath steady but heavier now.

“When you were out right after we got you home Panam came by. She didn’t stay long.”

Valerie’s brows knit. “Is she okay?”

“She is. But they’re gone. The Aldecaldos.”

That held in the air a second too long.

“Gone,” Valerie echoed. It wasn’t a question.

Judy nodded. “Left Night City two hours after. Said it was too dangerous to stick around. We burned Arasaka Tower to the ground and made it out breathing… but they didn’t.”

Valerie swallowed. Her chest tightened, not from pain this time. “Who?”

“Teddy. Bob. Saul.” Judy paused. “Three more from Dakota’s crew. I think Mitch made it, but he wasn’t with them when they left. Panam didn’t say.”

The room stilled. Even the street outside felt like it held its breath.

Valerie pressed her hand against her face for a second. Then dropped it. “God.”

Judy leaned closer, her forehead resting against Valerie’s temple now. “She left a message. Said they’ll rebuild somewhere quieter. Said they had to keep the rest of the family safe. But I think she was just holding herself together long enough to get the convoy rolling.”

Valerie’s voice barely made it out. “She should’ve told me.”

“She tried.” Judy’s hand smoothed over the back of hers again. “But you were barely conscious. She said you’d understand.”

Valerie stayed still, jaw tight, pain forgotten for a moment. Not gone, just replaced by something heavier.

The weight of absence. Of names that wouldn’t knock on the door again.

She pulled Judy’s hand up this time, kissed her fingers back with a gentleness that trembled at the edge.

“They were good people,” she said, voice rough. “Better than we deserved.”

Judy nodded against her. “Yeah. But they were your people too.”

They sat like that Charter Street humming low outside, wind scratching along the windows, a city pretending nothing had changed.

Something had happened like it always did.

The silence between them now held the shape of the ones who didn’t make it.

Valerie shifted, a quiet groan slipping past her teeth as she tried to lift her arm. The motion pulled at something deep sharp, dragging, but she kept going, fingers brushing awkward and light across Judy’s cheek.

Judy leaned into it without a word, eyes half-lidded, hand still wrapped around Valerie’s.

A small smile cracked through the pain, lopsided and raw.

“Thanks for staying with me, Jude,” Valerie murmured, voice catching somewhere between breath and weight. “I don’t know how the hell we’re supposed to get through this... but if this pain means I get to keep holding you…”

Her fingers curled a little more against Judy’s cheek.

“I’ll endure it.”

Judy didn’t speak right away. Just blinked, her lashes low, then closed the space between them with a kiss soft, close, just the press of her lips to Valerie’s temple. Like sealing a promise without trying to make it more than it had to be.

She stayed there for a moment longer, breathing against red hair still damp at the roots. Her voice came next, quiet and thick.

“You don’t have to thank me. Not for staying. There’s nowhere else I’d ever be.”

Valerie’s thumb traced along her jaw, slow and tired.

“I know,” she said, almost a whisper. “But it still means everything.”

The BD shelf clicked off in the next room, the drive finally going silent. Outside, a siren wailed in the distance, swallowed by the curve of the street. But here in this small, half-lit space carved from wire and wear and too many long nights there was nothing chasing them.

Only the thrum of the city, and the steady rhythm of two people still breathing.

Valerie’s breath caught. Not from emotion this time, but something deeper, pulling sideways through her skull. Her ears started ringing, soft at first, then sharp like feedback building just behind the bone. She blinked, slow, the edges of Judy’s face beginning to blur. That soft pink-green drifted like oil on water.

Her hand dropped from Judy’s cheek.

Judy caught it before it hit her leg. “Val?”

Valerie winced, squeezing her eyes shut, then opened them again. “It’s…” She swallowed. “It’s starting again.”

Judy shifted closer, already scanning her face. “What is?”

Valerie touched her temple with trembling fingers. “Ringing. Vision’s going. Not like a seizure, just… off-balance. Like someone turned the lights down from the inside.”

Judy reached for the med scanner, but Valerie caught her wrist. Not to stop her just to hold on.

“There’s a silence in here now,” she said, her voice thin and wavering. “First time since this started.”

Judy stilled.

Valerie breathed in deep, letting it settle under her ribs before pushing it out. “Johnny’s gone. Really gone. Not just buried under code or frozen in a relic. It’s empty where he used to be.”

The ringing pressed harder, like glass stretching across her hearing. She blinked fast, rubbed at her eyes. The blur wasn’t going.

“But I can still feel the nanites,” she murmured. “From the neural matrix. They’re crawling through the places he tore open. Where the relic tried to overwrite me. They’re fixing it, I think. Trying to.”

Judy’s hand gripped hers tighter, grounding her.

Valerie let her head tilt back against the wall, jaw slack, eyes fluttering closed for a beat.

“It’s like I’m stitched together from borrowed threads,” she whispered. “And something’s still pulling.”

“You’re still here,” Judy said, low. “Doesn’t matter what tech’s inside you. Doesn’t matter how loud it gets, or how quiet.”

Valerie’s lips moved and tried to smile, but it was faint, almost lost beneath the tremor in her jaw. She pulled in another breath and nodded.

“I don’t miss him,” she said, eyes still half-closed. “But I got used to the echo.”

Judy leaned in again, pressing her forehead to Valerie’s.

“Then we make our own rhythm,” she said.

Valerie breathed through the ringing. Through the blur, nothing and the noise. Somewhere in all of it, Judy’s touch stayed steady.

The silence in her mind wasn’t empty after all.

Judy stayed close, her breath warm where it passed between them, her hands never fully letting go. But the tension had settled into her shoulders too still, too quiet.

Valerie blinked again, trying to focus, but the blur hadn’t left. The ringing had dulled, turned into a low hum behind her teeth.

She let out a slow breath. “Still here,” she said, mostly to herself.

Judy nodded against her, then shifted back just enough to look her in the eye. “You’re gonna hate this,” she said softly, brushing Valerie’s hair back behind her ear. “But I’ve got something that might help.”

Valerie raised an eyebrow, or tried to. “Is it legal?”

Judy snorted. “Define legal.”

She stood, reluctantly pulling away, then crossed barefoot to the nightstand by the vanity. The drawer stuck a little before giving way. She rummaged through it, pulled out a small white case, popped the seal with a flick of her thumb. Inside two thin red pills, both marked with stabilizer codes.

“I’ve been using them for sync headaches,” she said, holding one up as she returned. “Should calm the nerve misfires. Might take the edge off whatever those nanites are doing.”

Valerie watched the pill between Judy’s fingers like it was miles away.

Judy crouched in front of her again, hand open. “It’s not a fix. But it’ll help you breathe through it.”

Valerie hesitated, then took it. Her hand shook as she raised it to her mouth, dry-swallowed with a grimace.

Judy handed her a bottle of water, half-drunk and still cool. Valerie took a few careful sips before handing it back.

“Thanks,” she murmured, leaning her head back against the wall again. “It’s like... like everything hurts a little more when you’re still alive.”

Judy gave a soft, tired laugh. “Yeah. That’s how you know you made it.”

Valerie closed her eyes, and for a long moment, neither of them moved. The pill settled slowly in her gut. Not a cure. Just a pause. Just a breath.

Judy stayed crouched for a few seconds longer, watching her, still weighing every flicker behind Valerie’s emerald eyes. Then, slow and careful, she rose. The mattress dipped soft under her weight as she shifted back into place beside her no rush, no sudden moves, just that quiet sense of knowing exactly where to be.

She slid in sideways, arm draped over Valerie’s waist, her hand resting light just above the waistband of her boxers. Her other curled beneath the pillow. Close, warm, and steady.

Valerie let the quiet settle again. The medicine was slow to kick in, still a dull static chewing at the edge of her ribs, but her breathing had started to ease. She let it out through her nose, eyes half-lidded.

“I love you, Jude,” she whispered.

No grandness in it. No pause for effect. Just the truth, worn in and solid.

Judy didn’t answer with words. She leaned in, brushed a kiss through Valerie’s hair, and stayed there. One breath, then another. The scent of solder still faint in the sheets, but under it her warm skin, and faint perfume. That familiar static hum of the medical device on the night stand.

Valerie curled in slow, body aching but sure, wrapping herself around Judy like the only thing worth holding onto was already here. One arm over her waist. One leg tucked close. Her cheek pressed gently into Judy’s shoulder, close enough to feel every breath rise and fall, every soft beat echo against her own.

Her eyes closed.

She didn’t try to think. Didn’t try to force sleep. Just let herself drift through pain, through static, through the ghost of the relic still fading in her spine.

None of it mattered, not with Judy’s heartbeat in her ear.

Not with that soft breath brushing through her hair.

For the first time in days maybe longer Valerie let go. Not of the pain. Just about everything else.

Judy shifted just enough to slide her fingers through the strands of red tangled against her shoulder, slow and careful, like she was combing the tension out by touch alone. The braid had long since come undone, frayed from the fight, from the run, from everything they didn’t have time to feel until now.

She didn’t try to fix it. Just kept stroking gently through the mess, fingertips moving from Valerie’s temple down to where her hair spilled across the pillow, back again. Quiet rhythm. Nothing rushed.

Valerie’s breathing evened out, the tremble in her arms easing bit by bit. She didn’t speak, didn’t stir, just leaned in closer, her face nestled against Judy’s collarbone, one hand curled near the lotus charm still hanging faintly cold against Judy’s chest.

Outside, a hovercar screamed past low, distant, gone in seconds. Somewhere below them, metal clattered in an alley, but the apartment held steady.

So did they.

Judy’s thumb brushed along Valerie’s scalp now and then, chasing back the ache. Her movements never stopped, not once. Just that soft, steady motion through red strands dulled by sweat and ash.

In the quiet hush of it, she rested her chin lightly atop Valerie’s head.

The pain wasn’t gone. The world hadn’t forgiven them. Tomorrow would come with fire, with questions, maybe worse. But right now…

There was warmth between them. The kind that didn’t need words. The kind that stayed when everything else tried to leave.

So Judy kept stroking her hair. Kept her wrapped close. Let her rest.

Just a little longer.

The morning slipped in without warning, thin light sneaking past the blinds in quiet gray streaks, soft against the scattered mess of clothes and gear still littering the floor. The hum of the fridge hadn’t kicked on yet. Even the hum of Charter Street felt subdued, like the city hadn’t quite decided what shape to take today.

Judy stirred slowly, dark brown eyes half-opening into a world that hadn’t moved much since they collapsed the night before. Her shoulder ached from sleeping in one spot too long, but she didn’t shift and didn't want to not with the weight pressed against her side.

Valerie was still there. Still curled into her, head resting just beneath her collarbone, cheek nestled close where the necklace charm had left a faint imprint on her skin.

But something was wrong.

Judy blinked clearer, instinct kicking in before thought. Valerie’s arm draped over her waist was tense. Not just stiff from sleep. The kind of tension that crept up from muscle, not bone. Her forearm twitched once, fingers flexing against the sheets. Then again, sharper this time. Her leg pressed tight along Judy’s, the shift sudden and uneven.

Judy didn’t move, not fully. Just brought her hand to the back of Valerie’s head, fingers gently threading through tangled red again.

“Val…” she whispered, barely a breath.

No answer.

Valerie’s face had shifted jaw set too tight, lips twitching like she was caught somewhere between speech and silence. Her breath hitched, shallow, uneven. Her mouth moved again, brushing faintly against Judy’s skin in a way that felt wrong not from tenderness, but tension. Her whole body was flexing in waves now, like something buried deep wouldn’t let go.

Judy wrapped her arm around her, careful, grounding. Her palm settled against the curve of Valerie’s back, pressing slow and steady.

“Hey… I’ve got you,” she whispered. “You’re here, it’s just a dream. Come back, babe.”

Valerie’s fingers clenched in the fabric near Judy’s hip, purple nails barely digging through the cotton.

Judy kissed the top of her head. Again. “Come on, Guapa. Wake up for me.”

She felt the shift not in words, but in the breath that finally stuttered. The tension in Valerie’s jaw faltered, her hand loosening by degrees, fingers twitching once more before stilling.

Then, slowly, her eyes cracked open, unfocused at first. Emerald dulled by sleep and shadow.

“Jude…” she rasped, voice so faint it barely made it out.

Judy nodded against her. “I’m here. You’re safe. Just a bad dream.”

Valerie blinked a few more times. Her muscles still held some of its resistance under the skin, but her gaze had cleared enough to land on Judy. To know.

She buried her face back into her, breath shaky against her collarbone.

Judy just held her tighter. Let the city wait. Let the fire outside come later. For now, there was only this two hearts, one breath, and the quiet rhythm of a morning that hadn’t taken her away.

Judy kept her hand at the back of Valerie’s head, fingers lightly tracing through the knots that sleep and sweat had left behind. Her other arm shifted slowly across her lower back, pulling her in just a little more not tight, just enough to remind her she was still here. That the dream was gone. That the pain hadn’t taken everything.

She pressed a kiss into red hair still tangled against her chest.

“Let’s stay like this a little longer,” Judy murmured. “Then I’ll make some breakfast. Something hot.”

Valerie didn’t answer right away. Her face stayed tucked in, breath brushing soft across Judy’s skin like she was measuring every inhale, grounding herself one heartbeat at a time.

Then she nodded, slow and small.

“I think I wanna try and shower first,” she said. Her voice rasped against Judy’s collarbone. “I feel like hell. Everything’s stiff. Like my joints forgot how to be joints.”

Judy’s hand smoothed down her spine. “You think you’re up for it?”

“Don’t know.” Valerie’s brow creased. “I don’t think I can stand straight yet. My leg cramped when I shifted. Still feels off like my balance hasn’t caught up.”

Judy pulled back just enough to meet her eyes. “We’ll take it slow.”

Valerie gave a small, tired smile. “Maybe stretching’ll help. Warm water too. Might remind my body it’s mine again.”

Judy’s thumb brushed the edge of her jaw, soft. “You don’t have to prove anything. Not to me.”

“I know,” Valerie whispered, eyes fluttering half-shut again. “I just wanna feel like myself. Even a little.”

Judy nodded, forehead gently meeting hers. “Alright. We’ll go one step at a time. I’ll help you get there.”

Valerie exhaled through her nose, the smallest ghost of a smile flickering beneath her fatigue. “That’s what we do, huh?”

Judy pressed her lips to the corner of her mouth, gentle. “Every time.”

The city outside was starting to come alive to distant engines, someone shouting in the alley below. None of it touched them here. Not yet. Here, there was only warmth between tangled limbs, the softness of shared breath, and the promise of a shower and breakfast waiting just beyond the bedroom door.

Judy didn’t move right away.

She stayed with her for another minute, maybe two letting the warmth between them settle the last of that trembling edge still buried under Valerie’s skin. Her hand stayed in her hair, brushing slow strokes from temple to nape like she could untangle the night itself.

Eventually, she shifted just enough to speak without breaking contact. “Okay,” she murmured near Valerie’s ear. “We’ll go slow. You lean on me if you need.”

Valerie gave a soft, uneven breath. “Might be leaning a lot.”

Judy smiled, faint but real. “That’s what I’m here for.”

With a shared breath between them, Judy carefully eased herself upright, the mattress creaking beneath the shift in weight. Valerie followed after a pause, each movement reluctant, like her body was still half-arguing with itself. She planted a hand on the bed first, then the other. Her limbs felt heavy, joints stiff like the wiring had cooled wrong overnight.

Judy was already there beside her, legs over the edge, hand waiting.

Valerie took it.

Her fingers were still trembling, but the grip was sure.

With Judy’s help, she got upright. Slow. Muscles stretching wrong at first, a low hiss slipping past her teeth as pain fired down her lower back. But she didn’t collapse. She stayed sitting. Breathing.

“Not too bad,” she lied.

Judy gave her a look. “That’s your merc face talking.”

Valerie tilted her head slightly, braid hanging loose behind her shoulder. “Can’t help it. It’s welded on.”

Judy didn’t argue. Just stood and offered both hands this time, helping her gently to her feet. Valerie rose inch by inch, weight settling into her legs, the stretch sending a dull ache through her spine. But the worst of it held.

Once upright, she leaned into Judy, her forehead pressing against her shoulder.

“Okay,” she murmured. “Shower now. If I can stay upright through that, you can burn the eggs without me falling over.”

Judy laughed under her breath, slipping an arm around her waist. “I’m making toast too, just in case.”

“Safety net,” Valerie said, eyes half-lidded, voice quiet against her. “Smart.”

They didn’t rush.

Just two silhouettes in the gray light, steadying each other as they moved slowly toward the bathroom. One step at a time. A little more real with every one.

The hallway was narrow, uneven where the floor dipped near the bathroom threshold. Valerie leaned against the wall with her left shoulder, Judy tucked in close on her right, her arm looped around her waist not pulling, just guiding. The light in the hall fixture flickered once overhead before settling back into a steady amber hum.

They reached the bathroom door, and Valerie let out a slow breath. “Feels like I ran a marathon in a junkyard.”

Judy gave a soft hum of agreement, already reaching past her to flick the fan switch and start the water. The pipes clanked somewhere behind the wall, old and stubborn, before the low rush of warm water spilled into the space beyond the curtain. Steam started curling at the edges of the mirror, rising like fog on a battlefield already passed.

Valerie leaned against the doorway while Judy tested the water with her wrist. She gave a small nod, then turned, hands ready but gentle.

“Let me help with the shirt,” she said, quiet now. No teasing. No rush.

Valerie nodded, and raised her arms slowly, wincing through it. Judy peeled the damp fabric away threadbare from wear, stained with old blood and fresh sweat. It clung to her skin before falling free. Valerie’s shoulders bore faint bruises now in the shape of recoil and pressure clamps. Pale lines threaded from her ports, nerves still buzzing faintly under the surface.

Judy’s hands lingered a moment at her sides, thumbs brushing softly along her ribs.

“You’re beautiful, you know that?” she said, not looking for any answer.

Valerie let out a breath that might’ve been a laugh if it didn’t catch halfway through. “Feel like a busted chip.”

Judy stepped close, forehead resting lightly against hers. “Still my favorite chip.”

Valerie leaned in, eyes closing for a moment. Just a second to hold the warmth. Then, carefully, she stepped out of the rest boxers down, bare feet cold against tile. Judy helped her in, steady as ever.

The water hit her spine first hot, then too hot, then just right, like it was peeling back layers she hadn’t realized were stuck to her. Her muscles flinched, then melted, the pressure beating against her shoulder blades like something familiar. She braced a hand on the wall, the other gripping the rail near the edge of the tub.

Behind the curtain, she could hear Judy moving the drawer sliding open, the clink of a toothbrush, the shuffle of socks across the floor. No rush. Just morning sounds.

Valerie tilted her face into the stream. Let the water wash over her red hair, down her back. Her ribs still throbbed. Her left leg shook faintly with strain, but it was hers. Her breath, her limbs, her pain.

In the quiet just beyond the curtain Judy. Her heartbeat, her hands, and her promise.

Even broken, even buzzing from nanites and half-dead code, this was hers to feel. To fight through. To hold onto.

She stayed under the water until the shaking eased.

The water poured steady over her skin, warmth soaking through the soreness like it might trick her body into remembering how to be whole again. Steam coiled up around her, thick on the mirror now, bleeding soft through the cracked tile edges and filling the small bathroom with a hush.

Valerie stayed still, head bowed, both palms braced against the wall. Her red hair clung to her back in heavy strands, braid gone, loose now in the runoff. Every beat of her heart thudded through her ribs like it had to announce itself to be real.

Her fingers flexed once slow, then again.

She could feel it… that dull ghost-thrum of nanites tracing the broken edges. The heat didn’t stop it, but it softened the noise in her nerves. Let her breathe without the buzz roaring behind her eyes.

Outside the curtain, Judy moved through the motions of morning like she always had been quiet and purposeful. She wasn’t humming like she sometimes did. Just the soft clatter of a spoon against ceramic, the buzz of the old kettle starting in the kitchen. All of it felt steady. Measured.

Valerie leaned back into the water one last time, let it run clean over her face, then turned the dial down. The pressure dropped with a hiss, warmth retreating in slow spirals.

She pulled the curtain back with a shaky hand. Steam spilled out into the hallway, curling around her ankles.

The towel was already waiting on the counter, folded the way Judy always did. The corner turned just a little, like a habit left behind from a dozen quiet mornings before the war tried to take everything from them.

Valerie dried off slow, breath catching here and there as her joints reminded her they weren’t finished hurting yet. She caught her reflection in the mirror. Hair wet and wild. Collar marked faintly red where ports had strained. The lotus ink on her shoulder looked darker with the heat like it was breathing again.

She pulled the towel close around her chest, stepped barefoot onto the mat.

“Jude?” she called, voice still low.

Judy leaned in from the hall, toothbrush in hand. “Still here.”

Valerie exhaled, slow and warm. “Good.”

Judy gave her a small smile. “Breakfast’s almost ready. The toast didn’t burn.”

“That’s new,” Valerie said, lips tugging just slightly.

Judy smiled. “Miracles happen.”

Judy reached for her hand as she stepped past, fingers threading gentle between hers. No pressure. Just presence.

They walked back to the bedroom together Valerie slower this time, but upright. Breathing.

Everything could still burn. Right now the water had comforted her. Judy had held her, and the rest could wait.

The floor was cool beneath her feet, and even the weight of the towel felt heavier than it should’ve, but Valerie walked. One step, then another. Judy stayed close, their fingers still loosely tangled, a tether more than a grip.

The apartment smelled different now steam and scorched dust, a faint sharpness from the old kettle whistling low in the kitchen. The BD rig sat quiet in the corner, lights dimmed, monitors dark for once. Only the hum of power lingered, low and constant, like breath beneath the walls.

Back in the bedroom, the sheets were still a mess. Pillows tangled. A faint outline where they’d collapsed the night before. Judy let go only to tug one of Valerie’s clean shirts from the laundry pile, an old black one, soft and thin from years of washes, a faded print of some long-forgotten gig peeling across the front.

“Arms up,” Judy said, gentle but already moving like she knew how much help to give without making it feel like help.

Valerie obeyed, her muscles stiff as the shirt slid over her shoulders. She muttered a quiet thanks when it was done, not moving yet, just standing there in the middle of the room with her arms still half-raised, like she hadn’t quite dropped back into herself yet.

Judy reached out, brushing a stray strand of wet hair from her freckled cheek. “You look like hell,” she said softly.

Valerie gave a rough half-smile. “Must be love if you’re still feeding me.”

Judy stepped close, kissed her forehead. “I’ll keep feeding you,” she said gently, “even if you never stop being a stubborn pain in the ass.”

Valerie’s smile tugged faint at the corners. “You think that’s ever gonna change?”

Judy brushed her thumb over her cheek again. “Already made peace with it.”

She helped her over to the couch near the window clean blanket thrown across it, half-folded like it had been waiting for her. Valerie eased down slowly, shoulders tight, but the cushions took her weight. She sank into it with a sigh she didn’t mean to let out.

Judy disappeared into the kitchen again, a faint rustle of movement and the soft scrape of ceramic on tile. Valerie leaned her head back against the wall, eyes closed, breath slow.

The towel still draped around her waist. Her legs were bare, sore in the joints but clean. Whole. She could still feel the last of the water on her skin cooling into the fabric of the shirt.

Outside, the city was wide awake now. Distant honking. Metal doors rolling up. A shout down the street, quick and sharp, then gone.

Inside the smell of toast. The rhythm of Judy moving.

She let herself drift, just enough to feel it. That slow bloom of warmth behind her emerald eyes, not from the nanites, not from the relic, but from this room this moment. Still sore, still trembling, but safe.

Something soft hit her face.

Valerie flinched, eyes blinking open as a pair of black underwear slid down from her forehead to her inked chest.

Judy was standing just a few feet away, hip cocked slightly, smirk playing at the corner of her mouth. Jeans draped over one arm, a steaming mug of coffee balanced in her other hand.

“You plan to go full commando when we visit Vik?”

Valerie stared at her for a beat, then looked down at the underwear now resting in her lap.

“Might be easier,” she muttered, voice still half-asleep. “Less layers to peel off if I pass out again.”

Judy raised an eyebrow, walking closer, setting the coffee down on the side table beside the couch. “That’s one way to make an impression.”

Valerie tilted her head, watching her. The light from the window cast Judy in soft gold now, catching on the green in her hair, making her skin glow warm and alive. The jeans hung loose from her elbow like an afterthought, but the look in her eyes said she hadn’t forgotten a thing.

Valerie picked up the underwear, held them loosely in her hand. “Didn’t think we were making impressions. I thought we were just surviving.”

“We are,” Judy said, kneeling down in front of her. “But if we’re doing it with your ass hanging out, I’d at least like to be emotionally prepared.”

Valerie laughed, low and broken at the edges. The sound hurt her ribs, but she didn’t care. “Thanks for the warning.”

Judy leaned in, brushing a kiss just above her knee. “Always.”

The jeans were still waiting. The coffee was hot, and outside, the city kept on moving.

For now, Judy stayed kneeling there beside her, one hand on her thigh, eyes steady, quiet.

Valerie didn’t reach for the clothes just yet. She stayed where she was, towel loose around her hips, shirt hanging soft against her frame, the weight of her body slowly returning to her piece by piece.

There’d be time to get dressed. To face the fire.

For one more breath, one more moment, she just let herself sit in the stillness with the warmth of Judy’s touch, the smell of coffee, and the slow beat of something real holding her steady.

Valerie braced a hand on the armrest and pushed herself up. The couch creaked softly beneath her, towel slipping slightly as she reached for the underwear with her free hand. She’d gotten this far already standing, showering, almost feeling human again. One leg stepped in, then the other, slow and careful.

Then her left knee buckled.

It wasn’t dramatic, just a sudden, sharp twitch, like the muscle misfired mid-motion. Her foot slipped, and she let out a surprised grunt as she dropped back onto the cushion with a hard thump.

“Shit…”

The plate clinked in the kitchen. “Val?” Judy’s voice cracked with worry.

Valerie exhaled through gritted teeth, sitting slumped with the underwear bunched halfway up one leg. “I’m fine,” she called back, breathing short. “Just… my leg’s throwing a tantrum. No big deal, babe.”

She leaned forward, arms on her thighs, head bowed. The pulse in her temple thudded harder than she wanted to admit. The twitching had eased again, fading like a ripple, but the weight of it sat heavy in her joints. Her breath caught for a moment, then steadied.

“I’m okay,” she said again, softer now.

Judy lingered in the kitchen a second longer, then stepped back into the living room with a plate in one hand, mug in the other. Her eyes tracked Valerie the whole way, but she didn’t say anything.

Valerie let out a slow breath, then reached for the remote. Her thumb hovered before she clicked it on.

The screen flickered to life, the volume low but clear.

“This is N54 News, and we begin this hour with developing coverage of last night’s assault on Arasaka Tower...”

The anchor’s voice was smooth and too calm for the footage rolling beside her a slow aerial shot of the upper floors still smoldering, windows blown out, blackened steel ribs exposed to the sky.

“...NCPD has not yet confirmed the identities of the two women seen exiting the blast zone shortly after the explosion that disabled most of the tower’s east wing. Officials are urging witnesses to come forward with any information.”

Valerie’s face didn’t move, but her jaw set just a little tighter.

Judy handed her the plate toast, eggs, a small cut of pear on the side then sat down beside her with her own mug.

“In related news,” the anchor continued, “Militech released a statement this morning confirming their ongoing investigation into the suspected involvement of the Aldecaldos Nomad group in the coordinated assault.”

A grainy still image flashed on screen blurry lights, the outline of vehicles, a convoy pushing through debris.

“Sources within the NUSA suggest that classified tech recovered from the site may have prompted the attack, though officials have declined to comment.”

Valerie forked a bite of egg and chewed slowly, not looking away from the screen.

Judy was quiet beside her.

The footage changed flashes of emergency crews, drone sweeps, bits of steel scattered like bones across the plaza.

Valerie took another bite. Swallowed hard.

“I guess that means breakfast is officially the most peaceful part of the day,” she muttered.

Judy let out a faint breath beside her. “For now.”

They ate in silence, the news playing soft and steady, the city outside alive with questions they weren’t ready to answer yet.

They were still here. Still sitting side by side, and for the moment, their heartbeats the only thing that mattered.

Judy nudged her foot gently against Valerie’s ankle, eyes flicking to the bunched black cotton still dangling around one leg. A half-smirk pulled at her lips as she leaned back into the cushions, coffee balanced in one hand.

“Normally when you’re sitting on the couch with your underwear halfway on,” she murmured, “it’s not because you just took down a megacorp.”

Valerie let out a dry laugh, short and low. It pulled at something sharp in her ribs, and she winced, but didn’t stop smiling.

“Guess I’m branching out,” she muttered. “Did what I had to survive.”

She eased the plate onto the low table, her body still slow to settle. Her emerald eyes never left the newsfeed, but her voice softened, just a little.

“Sticking it to Arasaka… that part was just an added bonus.”

Her gaze flicked sideways. “For Johnny.”

Judy watched her for a moment how her hand rested light against her stomach now, thumb brushing near the edge of the towel, the bruise on her side still faintly visible in the morning light. Valerie wasn’t trying to be strong, not exactly. She just was. The kind of strength that ached, that survived because it had no other choice.

Judy leaned in a little, bumping her shoulder gently. “Well,” she said, “he owed you one. You just cashed the check.”

Valerie tilted her head, a glint of something tired and fond in her eyes. “Hope wherever he is now, he knows we finished it.”

Judy rested her head against her shoulder, hair brushing Valerie’s neck. “He knows.”

The TV kept playing background noise now, static and steel. In the warmth between them, in the half-dressed, half-broken quiet, there was something else blooming under the ache.

Valerie reached for the toast, still warm, edges just a little burnt just the way she liked it. She tore off a corner with her teeth, chewing slowly, emerald eyes back on the screen.

The anchor had moved on to economic forecasts, but the headline still scrolled beneath ARASAKA TOWER ATTACK: TWO FEMALE SUSPECTS UNIDENTIFIED, NCPD REQUESTS PUBLIC ASSISTANCE.

Valerie swallowed, leaning back a little, her free hand resting loose across her thigh.

“They know,” she said finally. “Arasaka. Militech. The suits upstairs they’ve got our names in red ink by now.”

Judy didn’t argue. Just sipped from her coffee, her other hand brushing lightly against Valerie’s leg, grounding her without needing to speak.

“But,” Valerie added, taking another bite, “small win… the public doesn’t know us. No face match, no names being screamed across feeds. That’s… something.”

Judy set her mug down with a quiet clink, eyes still on the crawl of the newsfeed.

“Yeah,” she said. “Just means there won’t be a headhunt from every street merc with a scanner and a grudge.”

She turned toward her, lips thinning. “Still not any less dangerous, though.”

Valerie nodded, chewing slower now. “No. But it buys us time.”

The word time settled between them, not sweet, not safe. Just necessary. A little space to breathe before the next move came knocking.

Outside, traffic started thickening. The city shifted, restless.

Inside, Judy brushed her fingers along Valerie’s thigh again, a slow circle drawn absentmindedly through the blanket.

Neither one said it out loud.

They both knew: every quiet morning like this was its own kind of rebellion.

The last bite of toast was gone, plate mostly crumbs now, eggs smeared faint across the ceramic. Valerie leaned her head back against the couch, exhaling slowly, the warmth of food settling into the ache behind her ribs. The towel had slipped a little lower on her hips, but she didn’t bother fixing it. Her body hurt, but it felt hers again. Every breath was not easy, but earned.

Judy shifted beside her, reaching over to collect the empty plate from her lap.

Valerie lifted her hand, slow and unsteady fingers trembling just enough to make the movement softer than she meant. She touched Judy’s cheek gently, palm warm against her skin, thumb brushing along her jawline.

Judy paused, fingers still curled around the plate.

Valerie’s eyes met hers. No smile, no clever line. Just the weight of everything that hadn’t been said. Everything that didn’t need to be.

She pulled her in slow, thumb tracing the edge of her face, then pressed their lips together carefully, gently. Not desperate. Not chasing something.

Just there.

Judy leaned into it, her hand settling on Valerie’s thigh without thinking, breath steady as she kissed her back. The plate rested between them now, forgotten, balance held more by faith than grip.

When they pulled apart, it was only by a breath.

Valerie’s voice was quiet. “Thanks for breakfast.”

Judy blinked at her, lips still close, a faint smile tugging. “Anytime, mi amor.”

For a second, the city outside didn’t matter. The towers, the fire, the headlines none of it reached in. Just the touch of her hand still on Judy’s cheek, and the press of their foreheads together in the warmth of what they'd managed to keep.

Judy lingered there, forehead resting against Valerie’s, her breath warm and steady between them. The plate finally found the table with a soft clink, one hand reaching back without looking, the other still resting lightly against Valerie’s leg.

The hum of the news had faded into the background now some economist rambling about market instability, drones circling warily above the wreckage of last night. But it was distant, muffled by the soft sound of breath and the closeness between them.

Valerie’s thumb moved again, tracing a slow path along Judy’s cheekbone. The tremble in her fingers was still there fainter now, but present. Judy noticed it. She didn’t say anything.

Instead, she kissed the inside of Valerie’s wrist, just once, her lips brushing against the tendons where her pulse beat out slowly and steady.

Valerie let her eyes close, just for a moment. The ache in her ribs flared when she shifted, but she didn’t pull away. She didn’t want to.

“Wish we had more mornings like this,” she murmured.

Judy gave the softest sound half a laugh, more breath than voice. “You mean half-dressed, bruised to hell, hiding from every major corp on the feed?”

Valerie cracked a smile without opening her eyes. “Something like that.”

Judy pulled back just enough to look at her again, brushing a few damp strands of red hair from her forehead. “We’ll make more. Even if we have to steal them.”

Valerie’s emerald eyes opened, lashes still heavy from the shower, from the dream, from the pain that hadn't quite let go. But they were clear. Present.

“Then let’s steal this one a little longer,” she whispered.

Judy nodded, sliding down beside her on the couch, fitting into the space like she’d always belonged there. One arm around her waist, her other hand drawing idle circles along Valerie’s bare thigh where the towel had slipped.

They didn’t speak again for a while.

Just the sound of the city breathing, the TV murmuring soft warnings in another room, and the quiet rhythm of two bodies pressed close on a worn-out couch, in an apartment that had seen too much, but still held.

Judy shifted beside her, her head tucked against Valerie’s shoulder now, fingers soft where they rested against her ribs, just under the hem of the shirt. Her breath moved slowly, easy, and rhythmic. One of the few things left in the world that made sense.

Valerie let her hand move through Judy’s hair, slow strokes from crown to nape. Her fingers combed through the mix of pink and green, still a little damp near the roots. The motion was soft, steady. Like tracing the edge of something she didn’t want to lose.

She let out a breath, eyes half-closed as she leaned her head back against the couch.

“Feels like no matter where we go,” she said quietly, “the corps are gonna find us.”

Judy didn’t move, but her arm tightened just slightly around Valerie’s waist.

“I know we’ve got time. A little space to breathe. But I can feel it.” Valerie’s voice didn’t shake, just softened, like she was finally letting herself say it out loud. “They’re already figuring out how to crawl through whatever cracks we left behind.”

Judy was quiet for a beat, just listening.

Valerie’s hand kept moving through her hair, fingers slowing.

“I’ve been thinking…” she started, voice low. “About Laguna Bend.”

Judy blinked, shifting just enough to glance up at her.

“Not just to visit,” Valerie said. “I mean… maybe fixing it up. The cottage.”

Judy’s brows lifted slightly. “Are you serious?”

“Yeah,” Valerie murmured. “It’s far enough out to be quiet. Real quiet. But close enough to the city if we ever need something. Still reachable.”

Judy sat up a little more, dark brown eyes searching hers now not doubting, just feeling it out.

“It’s nothing fancy,” Valerie said. “Just beams and rust and memory. But it’s ours.”

Judy leaned her head back into her shoulder, her voice softer now. “You really think we could make it work?”

“I don’t know,” Valerie whispered. “But I think I want to try.”

Outside, a siren passed two streets over. Faint, and distant. Gone again.

Inside, Judy tucked herself closer, hand slipping under the shirt to rest against Valerie’s stomach now, fingers spreading against warm skin.

“We make it ours,” she said. “Whatever it turns into.”

Valerie closed her eyes, her hand still stroking gently through Judy’s hair.

She didn’t say anything else, and didn’t need to.

The quiet settled thick around them, not heavy, just full. Like the air itself had softened.

Valerie stayed reclined against the cushions, her fingers still slowly combing through Judy’s hair, rhythm steady, patient. The city outside moved in low pulses, muffled engines, distant chatter, the occasional clatter of something falling a floor above or below. None of it broke through the calm inside the apartment.

Judy’s hand splayed across Valerie’s stomach, the shirt pushed up just enough to feel skin. Every few minutes, she’d shift slightly, nudge her knee closer, brush her thumb along Valerie’s side, but mostly, she just stayed. Breathing with her. Sharing that space.

Valerie let her eyes close again. The pain hadn’t gone. It just… receded, quiet under the heat of Judy’s body and the silence they held between them.

Time didn’t stop.

She opened her eyes slowly, her fingers stilling in Judy’s hair.

“We should probably get the bad news over with,” she said softly, voice low and rough with sleep. “Go see Vik.”

Judy didn’t answer right away. She shifted down instead, kissing Valerie’s stomach gently, just above where the towel had started to slip again.

Her lips lingered a moment, then she looked up with that same quiet steadiness in her eyes.

“You need help with your underwear and pants,” she murmured, “or you wanna try again on your own?”

Valerie looked down at her red hair falling around her collarbone, the shirt crooked on her frame, her body still marked in bruises and phantom heat. But there was the faintest smirk at the edge of her lips. Worn, tired. Real.

“I’ll try,” she said. “Might need backup halfway through.”

Judy smiled. “I’m on call.”

Neither of them moved just yet. The weight of the day still waited beyond the door.

For now, the next step was hers to take and Judy would be there if she stumbled.

Judy didn’t rush her.

She stayed close, her chin resting lightly against Valerie’s stomach for another breath, then another, arms folded across her waist like she could keep the world still just by holding it there.

Valerie’s hand moved again, fingers threading once more through Judy’s hair, slow and aimless, like she needed the motion to remember where she was. Her body ached in quiet ways now. Not as sharp, not as urgent. Just the throb of something old, something earned.

“Alright,” she murmured eventually, voice a little stronger. “Let’s see if these legs remember how to cooperate.”

Judy gave her one last kiss against her skin, then pushed herself up with care, stretching her back until it popped faintly. She picked up the jeans from where she’d dropped them earlier, folded over the arm of the couch, and handed them off with a glance toward the underwear still pooled uselessly beside Valerie’s hip.

Valerie reached for it, her hand trembling just slightly, not as bad as before. She didn’t comment on it. Just slipped one leg in, then paused.

“Okay,” she muttered. “So far, so good.”

Judy crouched down beside her, steadying the edge of the towel as Valerie carefully braced herself with one hand and slid the other leg through. Her thigh spasmed once just a small hitch, but she breathed through it, teeth grit, face tight until it passed.

“Still good?” Judy asked, voice soft.

“Yeah.” Valerie didn’t sound sure, but she nodded. “Just a slow climb.”

Judy helped with the jeans next lifting one foot, then the other, pulling the fabric gently over her legs. Valerie handled the top half, buttoning it herself even if her fingers shook a little with the effort.

By the time it was done, she sat back against the cushions, fully dressed now, sweat prickling faint along her back despite the chill in the room.

She looked over at Judy, eyes tired but clear. “Not bad for a half-dead merc with a fried spine and a vendetta against megacorps.”

Judy tilted her head. “You forgot the part about being heartbreakingly gorgeous.”

Valerie smirked. “Must’ve been the brain fog.”

They sat a moment longer. The TV had moved on to traffic updates. The city was already folding into its next rhythm.

Valerie reached for the coffee cup, took one last lukewarm sip, then handed it off.

“Let’s go see Vik,” she said. “Get the damage readout, let him scold me, maybe poke at my ports ‘til something sparks.”

Judy stood, holding out her hand again.

“We’ll go slow,” she said.

Valerie took it. “Right behind you babe.”

Judy ducked around the couch without a word, moving with that quiet purpose that always kicked in when they were about to step back into the world. The air had cooled a little enough for goosebumps to prick faint along Valerie’s thighs where the denim didn’t quite settle right. She stayed seated for a beat, rolling her shoulders, waiting for her spine to cooperate.

Under the desk, Judy crouched low and pulled out their boots, still streaked faint with dust and dried street grime from the night before. She dropped them by the door with a soft thud, then reached up to the desk and unclipped both holsters.

Valerie’s was matte black leather, scuffed along the edge. Judy handed it off first, already fitted with Last Ride still scratched, still breathing that faint scent of oil and gunpowder that never quite left the barrel. The purple lotus on the side caught a glint of light as Valerie thumbed the safety, checking it by touch more than sight.

Judy slid her own into place, the silver shine of #1 Crush catching in the dim light roses etched down the barrel, twin V’s on each grip. She tightened the hip strap without looking, the movement familiar, muscle memory worn in over too many nights like this one.

Boots came next. Valerie bent forward with a grunt, slipping hers on slow, fingers clumsy with the laces but steady. Judy was already halfway through hers by the time Valerie finished tying the second knot.

She stood, a little stiff but upright, her jacket now pulled from the back of the chair. It didn’t cover the ache, but it gave her weight again. A shape the world could see.

Judy stepped in beside her, gave a light nudge at her side. “Still with me?”

Valerie met her dark brown eyes, soft but clear. “Mostly.”

Judy gave a small nod. She opened the door with one hand, the hallway light spilling in soft yellow flicker, hum of the old stairwell buzzing faint behind it.

They stepped out together.

Down the stairs, slow at first. Valerie’s hand brushed the rail, but she didn’t need it yet. Her boots hit the concrete steps with solid rhythm, pain hitching now and then in her side, but she kept going. Judy stayed half a step behind, watching. Ready.

Out the door, into the street light. The city had fully woken. Smog over steel. Voices down the block. A trash unit grinding past on old treads. There, parked crooked across two lines like always, was Judy’s Villefort Sea Dragon. The green-pink glow of her dashboard rig flickered behind the cracked windshield.

Valerie exhaled, the weight of the day finally settling across her shoulders.

Judy popped the passenger door and nodded toward it. “Doctor calls.”

Valerie raised an eyebrow. “Are you driving soft or you trying to hit every pothole from here to the clinic?”

Judy smirked. “Guess you’ll find out.”

Valerie climbed in slow, gun at her hip, pain trailing behind her like a shadow, but she didn’t look back.

The Sea Dragon rumbled to life with a low, uneven growl engine coughing once before settling into that familiar, bassy idle. Judy tapped the dash once with the side of her hand, more ritual than repair. The old girl always needed a little encouragement in the mornings.

Valerie eased back into the passenger seat, one arm braced across her stomach, her hip shifting until the pistol sat right against her side. The seatbelt scraped her shoulder wrong, but she pulled it into place anyway. The pain in her leg hadn’t come back full force, but she could feel it waiting just under the surface, like a pulled wire twitching inside the socket.

Judy glanced over, hand on the shifter, pink-green hair catching streaks of sunlight bleeding in through the cracked front windshield. “You good?”

Valerie nodded, eyes half-lidded. “Good enough.”

The van rolled out of the side lot and onto Charter Street proper, tires crunching over broken glass and whatever some drunk left behind outside the noodle place. The street was thick with the kind of morning traffic that never really stopped, just ebbed and swelled depending on who was bleeding, selling, or scheming at any given hour.

Neon signs blinked sluggishly in the rising light. A dealer on the corner waved at a group of college kids too clean for the block. Someone with a chrome jaw screamed into a cracked phone two steps from being flattened by a delivery drone.

Valerie leaned her temple against the window, eyes following the city as it slid past grimy alleys, shuttered pawn shops, walls still tagged with warnings from three wars ago.

“You think Misty’s still got her incense burning?” she murmured.

Judy chuckled softly, one hand on the wheel, the other resting near her thigh. “Guaranteed. Probably has a crystal bowl reading waiting for us too.”

The van turned sharply past Jig-Jig Street, the billboard above still glitched flashing between a braindance ad and some corpo meditation retreat upstate. The detour through Little China was quieter than usual, the streets still recovering from whatever happened near Corpo Plaza the night before. No sirens anymore, just caution tape curling like torn flags around trash bins and crushed delivery bikes.

By the time they turned onto the block that held Misty’s Esoterica, the sun had finally crested past the skyline, soft yellow light crawling down the face of the buildings. The shop sat tucked between two shuttered parlors, same as it always had, its faded sign crooked above the door, the windows fogged with incense smoke.

Judy pulled into the curbside spot like muscle memory, engine purring into a softer idle. She didn’t move yet just glanced over, eyes flicking to Valerie’s leg, then her eyes.

“You sure you wanna go in first?” she asked.

Valerie looked out the window again, watching the faint shapes of crystals glinting in the window, shadowed by the outline of vines twisting down from the roof above.

She reached for the door handle.

“If I’m falling apart,” she said, “I’d rather hear it from someone who sells sage and tarot cards before the man with a bone drill.”

Judy smiled, faint but fond. “Figured you’d say that.”

Together, they stepped out into the morning.

The curb was uneven concrete chipped and sloped just enough to make Valerie feel it in her knee as her boots touched down. She winced, hid it with a breath, and let the door shut behind her with a soft clunk.

Judy circled around the front of the van, her jacket brushing against the bumper as she moved, steps easy but eyes never quite leaving Valerie. She didn’t offer an arm. She didn't need to. She just walked close enough to catch her if she stumbled.

Misty’s Esoterica looked exactly the same as it always had like time moved differently there. Faded tarot decals still lined the bottom of the front window. Wind chimes clicked faintly in the morning air. The little green bell over the door hadn’t been dusted in years, and the doorframe still had that splintered groove halfway up from the time someone tried to force it open back in ’77.

Valerie stepped up onto the curb slowly, one hand brushing the edge of the door before she pushed it open.

The bell jingled, soft and slightly off-tune. Familiar.

Inside, the air was thick with sandalwood and something earthier rosemary or maybe mugwort. The shelves were still cluttered with candles, charms, tiny bowls of rough-cut stones and half-melted wax. Beaded curtains dangled from the archway behind the counter, swaying gently with the shift in air as they entered.

Misty wasn’t behind the register yet, but the light was on in the back. Soft, warm like a permanent golden hour lived behind those curtains.

Valerie stepped forward, slow, her hand trailing across the edge of the counter. The ache in her legs had settled again, but every step still felt like it came with a question.

Judy moved past her, brushing fingers along a display of amulets carved into strange, looping shapes. She picked one up absently a black stone wrapped in copper wire, shaped like a spiral twisting into itself.

“She always had the weirdest taste,” Judy murmured.

Valerie smirked faintly, her voice lower. “At least it’s honest.”

Behind the beads, Misty’s voice floated through like it had been waiting. “You’re early.”

Valerie raised an eyebrow.

The curtains parted, and Misty stepped through, hair tied up with a long strip of dyed cloth, a half-empty teacup in her hand. Her eyes scanned them both like she was reading the air around them before they even spoke.

“I didn’t need the cards to feel that one,” she said, voice quiet but certain. “You brought something heavy back with you.”

Valerie met her gaze, steady but tired. “Yeah,” she said. “Something like that.”

Misty nodded once, then gestured to the small bench near the window threadbare cushion, sun-bleached to the edge of pale.

“Sit. Rest a minute,” she said. “You’ll want your center before you walk into Vik’s.”

Judy looked at Valerie, then nudged her gently toward the seat.

Valerie sank down slowly, her muscles tight but compliant, breath leaving her in a slow exhale as she rested her back against the old cushion. The incense curled up near her shoulder, and through the smoke, the outline of the city still moved faintly in the window, blurred and quiet.

For a moment, they didn’t speak. They just breathed. Waited for whatever came next.

The bench creaked softly beneath Valerie’s weight, wood warped just enough to catch her off guard before settling. She sank into it with a sigh that felt too old for her age, elbows resting on her thighs, hands laced loosely between her knees. The incense was thicker here, curling around her like fog, clinging faint to her damp hair and the collar of her jacket. Something floral underneath the sandalwood now lavender maybe, or something made to feel like it.

Judy sat beside her, one leg tucked slightly under the other, arm resting behind Valerie along the back of the bench, fingers grazing the edge of her shoulder. She didn’t speak. Just watched the way the light filtered through the front window, casting soft shadows through the dreamcatchers hanging in the corner. Her gaze lingered on Valerie’s hands still trembling now and then, like her nerves were trying to remember how to be quiet.

Misty didn’t push. She moved through the shop with quiet steps, adjusting a candle near the register, then straightening a row of tiny jars filled with dried leaves. The teacup moved with her, always in hand, steam barely visible in the light. She didn’t ask questions, not yet. Just let the space breathe around them.

Valerie leaned back slowly, wincing as her spine caught in the middle. She turned her head enough to glance at Judy, voice low. “Feels like I’m stuck between the static and the signal.”

Judy brushed her fingers along her shoulder, gentle. “Vik’ll know how bad it is.”

“Yeah.” Valerie stared through the front window, where the city blurred behind old glass. “But I think I already do.”

Misty turned then, looking toward them without speaking at first. Her eyes were sharp in that way they always were like they saw past bone and blood and into whatever lived beneath it.

“You cracked something open in there,” she said finally. “Didn’t just burn the tower, you brought the fire back with you.”

Valerie didn’t flinch. “Wasn’t much of a choice.”

“There never is,” Misty murmured, sipping her tea. “But the ones who walk out don’t always walk back the same.”

The quiet held again. Not heavy. Just true.

Judy shifted closer, her leg pressing along Valerie’s now, arm still behind her shoulders. “We didn’t come for prophecy,” she said gently. “Just a minute to breathe.”

Misty nodded once. “Then breathe. The path will find you anyway.”

And with that, she disappeared back behind the curtain footsteps silent against the floorboards, incense trailing faintly in her wake.

Valerie closed her eyes for a moment, head tilting back against the wall behind the bench. The warmth of Judy beside her. The scent of smoke and lavender. The soft hum of wind chimes brushing against the outside door.

It wasn’t peace.

It was a moment, and that was enough to carry her to the next one.

The curtain swayed shut behind Misty, the beads clicking softly like rain against a windowsill. Valerie didn’t open her eyes right away. She stayed still, letting the hush stretch between her ribs and spine, between the faint burn in her legs and the steady weight of Judy’s touch beside her.

Judy’s fingers moved again this time tracing slow, absentminded shapes across the back of Valerie’s shoulder. Her touch was careful, like she knew every inch still ached and wasn’t trying to fix it. Just to remind her she wasn’t alone in it.

The incense had shifted again lighter now, something citrusy beneath the lavender. A scent that stirred faint memory, of old cafes and borrowed time in alleyways that no longer existed. Valerie let it pass through her, not chasing it.

“Been a long time since we just sat like this,” she said, voice barely more than breath.

Judy didn’t answer right away. Her fingers paused, then smoothed once more through the fabric of Valerie’s sleeve.

“Feels longer than it is,” she said quietly. “Maybe ‘cause the world keeps changing faster than we can catch our breath.”

Valerie cracked one eye open, letting the fractured daylight press against her retinas. Outside, the block was still moving. A man swept the sidewalk with a broken-bristled broom, his back hunched, his steps slow. A kid passed on a skateboard, humming something tuneless, chrome glinting faint behind her ears.

Same city. Different skin.

Valerie exhaled through her nose. “Vik’s probably two steps from calling in a drone to come drag us in.”

Judy smirked faintly, lips brushing the edge of her smile. “We’ll go soon.”

Valerie finally sat forward again, elbows on her knees, hands clasped tight in front of her like she needed to hold herself in place. The pain had quieted, dulled beneath the food, the warmth, the smoke, but she could still feel it. That low thrum. That ticking in her brain.

She glanced over at Judy, eyes soft. “You ready?”

Judy nodded once, then rose to her feet with a quiet stretch, hand reaching for Valerie’s instinctively. “Yeah.”

Valerie took it, letting herself be pulled up slowly. Her body protested in all the usual ways: hips stiff, side aching, head swimming for half a second, but she didn’t falter.

The incense trailed with them as they moved through the back of the shop, past shelves stacked with hand-labeled tinctures and old folded rugs. Judy opened the back door with a quiet push, the rusted hinges giving a soft groan in protest.

The alley behind Misty’s was narrow and half-lit, caught between shade and morning sun. Steam curled up from a vent near the wall. The scent of the city was sharper here metal, oil, something sour from a broken dumpster lid down the way.

Valerie stepped out slowly, one hand brushing the frame as she adjusted the strap of her holster. Her fingers grazed the grip of Last Ride, the metal warm against her palm.

Judy stayed close behind, her hand a steady presence at the small of Valerie’s back as they moved toward the far corner where the alley dipped down into shadow, a worn concrete stairwell leading beneath the block.

The faded sign above the door was barely legible anymore, but they didn’t need to read it. They’d been walking this path for what felt like years.

Down the steps into Vik’s clinic.

The stairs groaned under their boots, every step echoing faint against concrete walls stained with old watermarks and time. Down here, the city’s voice dulled no sirens, no engines, just the buzz of exposed conduit and the low pulse of old machinery humming somewhere behind the brick.

Valerie kept one hand against the wall, steadying herself as they descended. Judy stayed close behind her, not touching, but near enough that she didn’t need to ask.

At the bottom, the clinic door hissed open on its ancient hydraulic system. The motion sensor caught them too late, as always half a second behind, blinking red before it blinked green.

The smell inside was sharp and clean. Antiseptic. Burnt ozone. A faint trace of oil and worn leather. Nothing had changed, the same cluttered workspace, same surgical lamps craned overhead like mechanical vultures. The screens along the walls blinked faintly with unread diagnostics. The old medical chair at the center sat empty, wires coiled like sleeping snakes along its arms.

Vik turned from the monitor station near the back wall. His beard had gotten a little grayer since the last time they saw him, but his eyes were the same sharp, tired, knowing more than he ever said out loud. He looked them both over once, top to bottom, then walked forward with that slow, deliberate gait of someone who knew how bad pain could get.

“You look like hell,” he said to Valerie, voice low and even.

She gave a faint smile. “You should see the other tower.”

Vik didn’t laugh, but the edge of his mouth twitched.

Judy moved off to the side, arms crossed, leaning quietly against the edge of the counter.

Valerie stepped forward, movements stiff. “We need a full check. Especially me.”

Vik nodded. “Sit down.”

She eased herself into the chair with a low grunt, the metal frame cold even through the denim. Vik was already adjusting the scopes above her head, fingers moving with practiced precision as he turned on the neural interface scanner.

“So,” he said, not looking away from the screen. “Start talking.”

Valerie exhaled slowly, eyes fixed on the far wall. “Mikoshi’s gone. We brought it down.”

That got his attention.

She continued, her voice steady despite the wear in it. “We didn’t use Alt. Didn’t go under. Judy hardwired a neural matrix prototype. NUSA tech. Interfaced it directly through my port while the relic was still active.”

Vik’s brow furrowed. “That’s not a patch job. That’s brain surgery on a burning airlock.”

Valerie gave a faint, humorless chuckle. “We didn’t have a lot of options.”

He studied her. “And the relic?”

“Fried. Judy pulled it out after the surge hit. But it left something behind, something's still crawling around in me. Nanites, maybe. Or whatever's embedded in that matrix tech.”

Vik turned back to the scanner, eyes narrowing. “Do you feel anything now?”

“Twitches. Weakness in the leg. Spinal feedback. A couple of neural delays.” Her voice lowered. “And pain. It’s not normal wear.”

Vik stayed quiet a moment longer, watching the data as it streamed across the screen colored lines mapping her nervous system, cyberware link points, biofeedback curves. His expression darkened the longer he stared.

“Alright,” he said finally. “We’ll run a full composite scan. I need to know what’s reacting if it’s the matrix, the leftover relic scaffolding, or your own system trying to compensate for the damage.”

Valerie met his eyes. “How bad do you think it is?”

Vik didn’t answer right away. Just placed a hand gently on her shoulder, firm but grounding.

“That’s what we’re gonna find out.”

The clinic lights dimmed as the scanner engaged, flickering through pale hues as it cycled through each phase cranial, spinal, peripheral. Valerie sat still in the chair, jaw set, hands resting palms-up on the armrests, fingers twitching now and then like static searching for a ground. Judy hadn’t moved far still by the counter, arms folded, watching every flicker of data on the screen like it might try to lie to them.

Vik worked quiet, focused. He didn’t speak unless the machine needed calibration, and even then it was a mutter, hands moving in tight, efficient lines. He ran the deep-scan twice. When the second came back with the same results, he exhaled slowly through his nose and powered the scope down.

Twenty minutes. Maybe more. The quiet in the clinic felt thick by the end of it, only broken by the hum of a pressure valve venting low near the floor.

Vik wiped his hands on a towel, then turned to face them, leaning back slightly against the edge of his workspace.

“Alright,” he said. “Here’s what I’m seeing.”

Valerie straightened a little. Judy’s arms dropped to her sides, her expression already tight.

“The nanites,” Vik began, “they’re real. Looks like they were released from the neural matrix during the spike. Probably part of some fail-safe meant to stabilize your brain during disconnection.”

He gestured toward the scan. “They’re not hurting you. Actually, they’re doing the opposite. Cleaning up the mess the relic left behind. All that neural scarring? It’s being scrubbed. Or patched. Hard to say which yet.”

Valerie’s brow lifted faintly. “That supposed to be the good news?”

Vik nodded once. “That part? Yeah. It’s working. But it’s gonna take time. While it’s happening, you’re gonna feel it twitches, nerve fire, phantom movement. That’s your brain repairing itself. You’ll have to manage the pain. There’s no shortcut for that.”

Valerie let out a quiet breath, eyes flicking toward the ceiling. “Fine. Go on.”

Vik crossed his arms, his tone shifting lower, more grounded now. “What’s doing the real damage is your cyberware.”

Valerie’s eyes narrowed.

“Your system’s overloaded,” he continued. “Whatever hit you in that matrix surge, it fried your implants. Not just the ones tied to the relic port all of them. Neural interface, motion stabilizers, even the basic muscle support net in your legs. Right now, your body’s treating your cyberware like an invasive threat.”

Judy stepped forward. “Are you saying her body’s rejecting the chrome?”

Vik nodded. “Exactly. Violently. That weakness in your limbs? The spasms, the fatigue? That’s not just from trauma. Your immune system’s in overdrive trying to compensate, and it can’t keep up.”

Valerie’s lips pressed into a thin line. “So what’s the fix?”

Vik looked her in the eye, steady.

“You need to remove it,” he said. “All of it. Or as much as we safely can. Let your body reboot without interference.”

The room felt still for a beat too long.

Judy’s jaw tightened. “And if she doesn’t?”

Vik’s gaze didn’t shift. “Then the system keeps degrading. Slowly, painfully. Until the wrong signal hits the wrong synapse and something critical fails.”

Valerie sat quiet, her hands twitching once more, slow and tired on the armrests.

“And if I do?” she asked.

“You’ll still hurt,” Vik said. “At first. Your muscles’ll have to learn how to function again. Same with your balance, strength, speed everything you’ve been running through synthetic assist for years. But you’ll heal. Real healing.”

He paused. “And the nanites’ll have a clear field. Nothing in their way.”

Valerie leaned back against the chair, emerald eyes slipping shut for a moment. Judy didn’t say anything. Just stood beside her now, one hand lightly on the back of the chair, grounding.

“I’ll think about it,” Valerie said quietly.

Vik gave a small nod. “Don’t take too long. Your body’s already trying to let go. It might be time to listen.”

Valerie stayed in the chair a while longer, her eyes closed, fingers curling slightly around the edge of the armrest. The clinic’s ambient hum buzzed faintly behind the silence. Nothing urgent, nothing screaming, just the steady weight of a choice that had no good timing.

Judy didn’t speak right away. She just stepped closer, her hand brushing gently against Valerie’s forearm, then finding her hand where it rested cool skin, still twitching faintly with the fallout of it all.

Valerie opened her eyes at the touch. Judy’s fingers laced with hers, firm and warm. No pressure, just presence.

“I know what it means,” Judy said, her voice low. “Taking it all out.”

Valerie looked up at her, face tired but steady. “I do too.”

“You won’t be weaker,” Judy said. “Not to me. Not ever.”

Valerie let out a slow breath, eyes flicking toward the dark corner of the clinic where old tools rested in quiet trays, where she’d once come in bruised and sharper than she was now. “It’s not about strength.”

Judy squeezed her hand once. “Then what’s it about?”

Valerie let her gaze settle on their hands, freckled knuckles against black nail polish, still warm from the morning sun that no longer touched this place. She spoke without lifting her head.

“It’s about living without a countdown. Without waking up wondering which nerve fails next.” Her voice dropped, steady and worn. “It’s about knowing my body’s mine again.”

Judy knelt beside the chair then, their hands still joined. Her other hand reached up to cup Valerie’s cheek, thumb brushing the edge of a faint bruise near her jaw.

“We’ll get through it,” she said softly. “Every damn part.”

Valerie nodded. “Together like always, babe.”

They didn’t say anything else for a long moment. Just sat in the low-lit hush, breathing in the quiet between futures.

Then Valerie looked over at Vik, who was still waiting a respectful distance away, arms folded but gaze attentive.

“Let’s do it,” she said. “Take it out. All of it.”

Vik gave a single, solid nod. “We’ll prepare everything. I’ll need a few minutes.”

Valerie looked down at Judy again, her hand still warm in hers.

“No running this time,” she whispered.

Judy smiled faintly, dark brown eyes bright. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Vik nodded again, already turning toward his side terminal, murmuring to himself as he brought up Valerie’s old mod registry. Lines of diagnostic code flickered across the screens, sterile and blue, pulsing like artificial breath. In another life, they’d meant enhancement and an edge. Now they were just ghosts waiting to be cut loose.

Valerie hadn’t let go of Judy’s hand. Her grip wasn’t tight, just anchored. A steady weight in her palm that reminded her this wasn’t retreat, it was reclamation.

Judy stayed kneeling, thumb still brushing soft along Valerie’s cheek, the touch slow and grounding. Her voice, when it came again, was quieter. “You scared?”

Valerie exhaled, the word catching behind her teeth before she let it go. “Yeah.”

Judy didn’t blink. “Me too.”

Valerie’s lips twitched something between a smile and a wince. “Good. Hate doing things alone.”

Judy stood slowly, leaning forward to kiss her neck just above the lotus tattoo, right where the skin still held the warmth of the morning.

“You won’t,” she said. “Not for one second.”

Valerie leaned into the kiss for half a beat, then sat back against the chair. The vinyl was cold against her spine, the frame humming faint with diagnostic loops still cycling in prep. She watched Vik’s hands work across the console, typing commands she couldn’t see, couldn’t stop.

She’d been modded since sixteen. Light stabilizers first. Subdermal anchors. A motion sync tether along her spine after that first real firefight out in the Badlands. Every upgrade after had come with a reason, a promise. Protection, power, and survival.

Now they were being peeled back. One by one.

She looked at Judy again, hair catching the clinic light, eyes steady, mouth still holding the last shape of that kiss.

“If I forget how to walk straight,” Valerie murmured, “you gonna carry me?”

Judy’s smile was quiet, but firm. “Only if you ask nicely.”

Valerie chuckled, the sound rough in her throat but honest. “I love you, Jude.”

Judy reached up, brushing a loose strand of red from her face. “I know,” she said. “I’ve got you.”

When Vik turned back around, eyes serious beneath the old light, he didn’t have to ask.

Valerie just gave him a nod, her hand still wrapped in Judy’s.

Vik didn’t say anything more. He just turned off the overhead scanner with a flick of his wrist, and the light dimmed to that soft surgical glow that always made the clinic feel colder than it was. He moved with calm, deliberate steps toward the prep counter sanitizers, tools, pre-meds laid out in a quiet sequence. He worked like someone who had done this before, but not often. Not like this.

Valerie stayed seated, her back pressed against the frame of the chair, her eyes on the floor just past Judy’s boots. She could hear the hum of the old wall-mounted processor, the click of metal on metal as Vik checked his instruments. The sound that grounded her was closer to Judy's breath, steady near her ear, and the gentle squeeze of her fingers still threaded between Valerie’s.

Her free hand drifted up to rest over her chest, just below the lotus ink. The neural port on her neck gave one last faint twitch. Not pain, just presence. A reminder.

Judy leaned closer, voice low near her temple. “Are you ready to lie back?”

Valerie nodded once. “Yeah.”

She wasn’t. Not really. But waiting didn’t make it easier.

Judy helped guide her down slowly and carefully. Valerie winced as her back met the reclined frame, her spine stiff against the metal housing, legs adjusting until the twitch in her thigh faded back to something bearable.

The ceiling above was covered in hairline cracks. She hadn’t noticed that before.

Vik stepped into view, gloves already on, scanner in hand. “We’ll start with the low-tension peripherals. No heavy lifts today. Just disconnect. Internal removals come after your vitals stabilize.”

Valerie gave a faint smile. “So the slow kind of surgery.”

“The right kind,” Vik replied. “We’re not slicing chrome off a corpse. You’re walking out of here.”

Judy’s hand never left hers. She moved to Valerie’s side, her free hand gently brushing red strands from her face, tucking them back behind her ear.

“Are you still with me?” she asked.

Valerie looked at her. Emerald eyes, sharp even through the ache. “You’re not leaving. So yeah. Still here.”

Vik dimmed the main lights further, the soft blue glow of his scanner pulsing gently across her limbs now, charting old nerve lines, checking for signal integrity.

“You’ll feel some heat. Maybe dizziness. I’ll be monitoring everything.”

“Do your worst,” Valerie murmured.

Judy shook her head, smiling as she leaned closer. “Don’t tempt him.”

Valerie turned her face slightly, lips brushing the back of Judy’s hand.

Then she closed her eyes. The sound of the scanner deepened soft pulses echoing in the hollows of her body, reaching through the years, the chrome, the scars.

It had taken her a long time to build what lived inside her.

Now, she was finally ready to let it go.

Vik’s hand hovered near the small tray beside the chair, fingertips brushing over a capped syringe already half-filled. The quiet had shifted again, less anticipation, more weight. A kind of stillness that always came right before something was taken apart.

“I’m going to sedate you,” he said, voice steady. “No shortcuts. This isn’t a field patch we’re going deep. You’ll be under for most of it.”

Valerie opened her eyes again, just barely. “Figured.”

Vik glanced toward Judy then, not moving his hands from the tray. “I’m going to need your help,” he said quietly.

Judy straightened a little, hand still cradling Valerie’s.

“Some of the torso mounts wrap under her ribs,” Vik continued. “To keep it clean and stable, I need access. Can you help remove her shirt and jeans? I’ve got a cloth here to cover her once she’s prepped.”

He held it out soft, clean, folded tight.

Judy took it with a nod, no hesitation in her movement.

“I’ll turn around,” Vik said. “You tell me when.”

He stepped back without another word, turning toward the med counter, giving them space.

Judy leaned down close to Valerie again, their foreheads nearly touching. “Hey,” she said softly.

Valerie cracked a faint smile, voice barely above a whisper. “Stripping in a clinic… really know how to show a girl a good time.”

Judy grinned, but it was quiet at the edges, her hand brushing gently through Valerie’s hair. “You’re lucky I like you.”

She moved carefully, easing the faded black shirt over Valerie’s head, her movements slow to avoid tugging at the neural ports across her collar and shoulders. Valerie flinched once as the fabric caught against one of the bruises near her spine but didn’t say anything.

Next were the jeans stiff with use, still damp in places where the city had soaked through earlier. Judy unfastened them with steady hands, guiding them down Valerie’s legs inch by inch, mindful of the twitch still hiding in her thigh.

Valerie exhaled as the denim peeled away, breath catching just once when her muscles tensed from the shift. Then she settled again, bare now except for the dark cotton beneath and the lines of scars and ports that still traced her skin.

Judy unfolded the cloth Vik had given her, draping it across Valerie’s chest, tucking it gently beneath her arms. She smoothed it once, her palm resting briefly against Valerie’s ribs warm, reassuring.

She leaned in again, kissed her cheek, her breath soft against her ear.

“I’ve got you,” she whispered.

Valerie’s eyes closed again. “I know.”

Judy looked up, eyes catching Vik’s back.

“You’re good,” she said quietly.

Vik turned, his hands already moving to the tray again. “Alright,” he murmured. “Let’s begin.”

The hum of the surgical lamp had faded. Only the low thrum of the clinic’s old generators remained steady and deep, like a tired heart still keeping time. Most of the lights were off now, save for the soft green monitors that glowed at Vik’s side and the dull pulse of the vitals display casting pale light across Valerie’s skin.

She lay still beneath the blanket, chest rising slowly, lips parted just slightly as she breathed through sedation. The cloth Judy had tucked around her earlier was gone now, replaced with bandages across her ribs and down the left side of her abdomen clean stitches marking the paths where chrome had once been threaded into muscle and bone.

Vik peeled off his gloves, tossing them into the bin with a tired sigh. He rolled his shoulder once, then rubbed the back of his neck, glancing toward Judy, who hadn’t moved from Valerie’s side the entire time.

“It was a clean removal,” he said. “No bleed-back. No rejection. Just long.” His voice was hoarse from hours of silence, low and even. “She won’t wake up for a while. Her system’s still recalibrating.”

Judy nodded slowly, eyes never leaving Valerie. Her hand hovered near her cheek, thumb brushing gently across a patch of dried blood Vik hadn’t gotten to.

“There’s a room in the back,” Vik added, motioning over his shoulder. “Old recovery space. The bed's not much, but it’s better than the floor. Let her rest there while she stabilizes. I’ll need to monitor the stitches anyway.”

Judy finally looked up at him. Her voice was soft. “You sure she’ll be okay?”

Vik didn’t offer promises. Just met her eyes and said, “She’s already healing.”

He started clearing the tray, stepping quietly through the space.

“I’ll have Misty bring you something to eat,” he added. “You look two minutes from falling over.”

Judy didn’t argue. Just shifted closer, gently pressing her hand flat over Valerie’s sternum feeling the warmth there, the soft rhythm beneath.

“Alright,” she murmured, mostly to herself. “Let’s get you somewhere better.”

She moved slowly, pulling back the blanket, careful not to jar the dressings along Valerie’s sides. The surgical gown had bunched slightly under her hip, and Judy straightened it with one hand before sliding her other beneath Valerie’s shoulders.

Valerie didn’t stir still too deep in the sedative, her head lolled softly against Judy’s collar as she lifted.

“You always were a heavy sleeper,” Judy whispered, half-smiling, even as the weight of her pressed full against her.

She slipped an arm beneath her knees and lifted legs straining just slightly, but steady. Valerie’s body was warm, pliant, her breath still slow and even against Judy’s neck.

The back room was quiet and dim, lit only by a small lamp tucked on the floor beside an old steel-framed bed. The sheets were clean, if a little stiff. Judy nudged the door open with her foot and stepped through, lowering Valerie gently onto the mattress.

She adjusted the blanket over her legs, tucking it in softly, her movements careful as she lifted Valerie’s head just enough to place a folded towel beneath it as a pillow.

Then she sat beside her, one hand resting lightly over Valerie’s stomach where the bandages were. Her thumb moved in slow, grounding circles as the clinic settled around them.

She didn’t speak again.

Just stayed, kept watch, and waited for her to come back.

The clinic had quieted to a soft hum, the kind that wrapped around old wiring and tired bones. Somewhere beyond the walls, the city pulsed on, but back here time moved slower. The only sound was Valerie’s breathing, faint and steady, and the occasional creak of the recovery bed frame each time Judy shifted her weight.

She sat curled near Valerie’s hip, legs drawn up on the edge of the mattress, one hand still resting lightly across the blanket where it rose with every breath. Her fingers hadn’t moved in minutes, just stayed there, tracing circles over fabric, soft and even. Not soothing. Only present.

Valerie hadn’t stirred. Not a twitch. But the color was better in her face now. Less pale. Less gone.

The knock on the door was soft, two taps and a pause, like Misty didn’t want to break the quiet more than she had to.

Judy glanced up, eyes slow to refocus. “Yeah?”

The door cracked open with a familiar creak, and Misty leaned in with a small carton tray balanced in both hands. Steam drifted faint from the takeout box, mingling with the trace scent of incense still clinging to her sleeves.

“Didn’t want to bug you,” she said, voice low. “Vik said you hadn’t eaten.”

Judy unfolded herself from the bed with a quiet breath and stepped across the room, careful not to disturb Valerie’s blanket as she moved.

Misty handed her the tray. One large box of noodles, two disposable forks tucked into the side, and a pair of cold water bottles clinking gently together.

“Thank you,” Judy murmured.

Misty gave a small nod. “She’s strong. She’ll come through.”

Judy didn’t answer right away. Just looked back toward the bed, her fingers already curling tighter around the edge of the tray.

“Yeah,” she said after a moment. “She will.”

Misty touched her arm lightly before stepping back out, the door creaking shut behind her with the same soft care she’d entered with.

Judy sat back down on the edge of the bed, setting the tray beside her on the nightstand. The steam from the noodles drifted up into the lamplight, cheap, salty, probably from that same corner place Misty always trusted. Judy cracked one bottle open, took a small sip, then leaned in closer to Valerie again.

“Still hot,” she whispered. “So I’m giving you ten more minutes before I eat all of it myself.”

No answer. No shift beneath the blanket. Valerie’s chest rose and fell, slow and even.

Judy pulled the box into her lap and started to eat with one hand, the other still resting softly against her wife’s side, never far. Never out of reach.

Judy ate slowly, the noodles cooling faster than she realized. Steam still rose when she stirred the box, but her appetite never quite caught up with the rhythm of her thoughts.

Valerie hadn’t moved. Not once. The softest part of her breath still pressed against the line of the blanket, slow and steady like waves lapping some distant shore. Judy kept sitting there, cross-legged beside her, bare feet tucked beneath the edge of the thin mattress, body tilted just enough to lean close without laying down.

She nudged another bite between her lips, chewed without really tasting. Then her voice broke the quiet, low and quiet barely more than a whisper meant for the air between them.

“Still remember when we became friends bitching about our exes, mi amor...” Her smile curved, crooked, sad at the edges. “Never thought our lives would lead to this.”

The plastic fork hovered for a second before dropping into the box with a soft thud. She set it aside on the nightstand, then shifted closer. Her fingers reached down, brushing along Valerie’s hand warm, slack in sleep, but not cold. Not empty.

Her thumb ran lightly over the gold band circling Valerie’s ring finger. A soft back-and-forth, like she was grounding herself there.

“Sometimes,” Judy murmured, voice catching, “I still wonder what made me worth all of your love.”

Her fingers tightened just a little. Not enough to squeeze, just enough to stay anchored.

“But I couldn’t have asked for a better woman to marry me.”

The words hung in the dim light, not quite echoing. Just settling into the stillness of the room like they belonged there.

Outside, the alley buzzed with a distant drone. A light flickered in the hallway.

Judy kept tracing the band in soft circles.

Waiting, and holding on.

The air had cooled again, or maybe it was just the kind of stillness that settled when you stopped pretending you weren’t waiting. She pulled the blanket a little higher over Valerie’s waist, smoothing it gently with one hand, then eased herself down beside her.

Carefully.

Her legs slid alongside Valerie’s, not pressing, just resting against the blanket’s weight. One arm curled near Valerie’s ribs, the other tucked beneath her own cheek as she folded into the curve of her wife’s side without pulling or shifting the stitches. She kept her head just beneath the line of Valerie’s shoulder, where she could listen not just to the breath, but to the rhythm of it, the warmth behind each inhale. That steady thrum. Valerie’s heartbeat was soft, buried deep, but real.

Judy let her mind drift then. Not in any clear direction. Just a float of memories, scraps of voices from that first night at the Afterlife, half-drunk confessions with shoes kicked off by a fountain, the way Valerie looked at her the night she brought the guitar out at Laguna. The way she said her name like it meant something more than sound.

Outside, the street had gone quiet resting in its late-night lull, distant buzz of air vents and passing cars muffled by the clinic’s walls.

Sometime later, the door creaked open without a knock.

Judy stirred, blinking slowly as Vik stepped inside, his coat slung over one shoulder. He kept his voice low, almost a whisper.

“Didn’t mean to wake you.”

“You didn’t,” Judy said, not moving from where she lay. “She’s still under.”

Vik nodded, stepping close. He checked the monitor first, glancing at the vitals, then leaned in with practiced hands to lift the blanket gently and inspect the dressings across Valerie’s torso. The antiseptic smell sharpened briefly as he peeled back one corner and gave a satisfied grunt.

“No signs of swelling,” he murmured. “Color’s good. Stitches are holding.”

He checked one of the neural slots along her neck, checking for signs of tension, then stepped back with a quiet exhale.

“She’ll be okay, Judy. Should come around by morning.”

Judy met his gaze, brow creased, exhaustion folding behind her eyes.

“She’s been through too much.”

“Yeah,” Vik said, voice soft. “You both have.”

He set a small vial on the nightstand clear with a pale yellow tint. “Painkiller, if she wakes up hurting. But she might sleep straight through. Neural strain does that.”

Judy nodded, fingers lightly brushing over Valerie’s hand again.

Vik hesitated, then softened. “Try and sleep, kid. You’ll help her more rested than running on fumes.”

Judy didn’t answer at first, just let her fingers lace gently with Valerie’s again. Then a quiet breath.

“I’ll try.”

Vik gave her shoulder a brief, reassuring squeeze before stepping out and pulling the door shut behind him.

The light hummed low. Valerie didn’t move.

Judy leaned forward, pressing her lips gently to the corner of Valerie’s mouth, just enough to feel the warmth there.

Then she tucked in closer and closed her eyes. Letting herself rest, and believe just for the night that morning would come.

The room held the hush of early morning the kind of silence that came just before the city remembered it needed to scream again. Pale gray light filtered through the slatted blinds, catching faint on the edge of the nightstand, softening the wires, monitors, the half-empty water bottle Misty had brought the night before.

Judy was still curled beside her, legs drawn up, one arm draped loose across Valerie’s waist beneath the blanket. Her breath rose slow against the back of Valerie’s shoulder, her lashes barely twitching in sleep.

Valerie stirred with a wince, her brow tightening. The first thing she felt wasn’t the pull of stitches or the weight in her ribs, it was the headache, sharp and bright right behind her emerald eyes. Like a wire had snapped loose and coiled around her skull. She groaned low, throat dry. Her right hand twitched before she managed to lift it, fingertips pressing weakly to her temple.

“Shit…”

The sound was more breath than word, caught on the edge of her tongue. Her other arm shifted under the blanket, searching blindly until her fingers brushed warm skin Judy’s hip, then the hem of her tank top, and finally the soft slope of her side.

Judy stirred.

Not fully awake, not yet, but her breath hitched the second she felt Valerie move. She murmured something half-formed and instinctively pressed closer, lips grazing Valerie’s shoulder.

“Hey…” Valerie croaked. “Jude…”

That did it.

Judy blinked awake, her hair tousled and sticking slightly to her cheek. She sat up slowly, rubbing her eyes with the heel of her palm before leaning over Valerie.

“Hey, hey… you’re awake,” she whispered, brushing sweat-damp red strands from Valerie’s temple. “How’s your head?”

Valerie winced, closing one eye. “Like someone rewired it with a power drill.”

Judy’s lips quivered, but her dark brown eyes stayed soft. “Sounds about right. You always did have a thing for dramatic exits.”

Judy leaned forward, careful not to jostle her, and grabbed the water bottle from the nightstand. She opened it one-handed and guided it gently to Valerie’s lips, steadying the back of her head as she drank.

“You scared the hell out of me,” Judy murmured. “Even Vik looked nervous for once.”

Valerie gave a shallow breath between sips, swallowing slowly. “Didn’t mean to. I just… couldn’t stay under forever.”

Judy set the bottle down, her hand brushing against Valerie’s wrist, feeling the weak but steady pulse beneath the skin.

“Stitches’re holding,” she said softly. “No signs of infection. Vik says you're outta the woods.”

Valerie cracked the faintest smile. “Still feels like I got hit by a truck full of short-circuiting chrome.”

Judy gave a soft breath of a laugh, brushing her thumb along Valerie’s hand. “Well… you did. Just with less metal and more heart failure.”

They stayed quiet for a moment.

The sound of the clinic soft electronic beeps, the low thrum of power beneath the floorboards filled the space between them. Judy leaned her forehead gently against Valerie’s, their noses brushing.

“You’re okay,” she whispered.

Valerie didn’t answer at first. Just closed her eyes again, her breath catching against Judy’s skin.

“…I think so.”

Valerie took another breath, slow and rough, eyes still half-lidded. Her fingers flexed where Judy held them, skin warm despite the chill threaded through her bones.

“It’s not just the pain,” she murmured, voice quieter now, steadier but still frayed at the edges. “It’s different. Like when you lose a tooth... and your tongue keeps going back, trying to figure out what’s gone.”

Judy shifted, just enough to get a better look at her, hand still curled gently around Valerie’s.

“Yeah?” she said softly, brushing her knuckles along Valerie’s temple. “Like something’s missing, or something’s finally quiet?”

Valerie’s gaze drifted toward the pale light slicing through the blinds. It caught in her hair, dull red against the pillow.

“Both, maybe.” Her voice cracked a little, but she didn’t stop. “The silence in my head… It's loud. No relics. No Johnny wisecracking from the cheap seats. Just... space where he used to be.”

Judy didn’t speak. Just traced slow circles over the back of Valerie’s hand with her thumb, grounding her.

“I can still feel it though. The nanites,” Valerie went on. “Working. Knitting whatever’s left back together. Like there’s something crawling under my skin, but not wrong. Just... trying.”

The words trailed off. Not from fear, just exhaustion.

Judy leaned in, her breath warm against Valerie’s cheek. “Let it. You’re here. You made it through.”

Valerie’s jaw clenched, not from pain this time, but from the weight of everything they hadn’t said yet. Her fingers slipped a little from Judy’s, then tightened again. Like she needed the hold more than she wanted to admit.

The room held it all. The hush. The flicker of light. The faint antiseptic cling of old metal and worn-down tech, and them, tangled in it.

Valerie's fingers twitched faintly against Judy’s, a breath catching in her throat before she found the words. “So… it’s all really gone?”

Judy exhaled slowly, not letting go. “Vik left your neural slots,” she said gently. “The port, too. Thought it’d be safer in case we ever need to sync you up to anything down the line. Left your personal link… said it wouldn’t interfere much. But the rest…” her voice softened, brushing hair from Valerie’s brow, “...the rest is gone, Val. All of it.”

There was no sorrow in her tone. Just care. Just the truth as it needed to be spoken.

Valerie blinked up at the ceiling. A flicker of light caught in the corner of her eye. Not from chrome. Just the way the clinic’s ceiling track glinted dull against the pale gray.

She gave a breath of a laugh not bitter, not light, just real. “Guess this is the end of V the mercenary,” she murmured, voice barely above a whisper. “And the beginning of… whatever comes next.”

Judy didn’t smile. She just leaned in and pressed her lips to the curve of Valerie’s jaw, staying there a second longer than usual.

“Whatever comes next,” she said quietly, “you won’t be in it alone.”

Valerie turned her head, just enough for their foreheads to rest together again. Her pulse was slow beneath the skin, but steady now. No hum of optics. No sync alerts. Just breathe. Just flesh and pain and the faintest warmth still left in her bones.

“I’ll hold you to that,” she whispered.

“You always do,” Judy murmured back.

The monitors kept their soft rhythm behind them, a low background pulse beneath the stillness. For a moment, the world outside could wait.

Chapter Text

The quiet held just long enough to feel sacred.

Judy’s hand stayed threaded with Valerie’s, skin to skin, no interface between them now. The blankets were warm from shared breath. Somewhere near Valerie’s knee, Judy’s thumb traced soft, steady circles absentminded, grounding. The hum of the med monitors had faded into background rhythm, another kind of heartbeat in the room.

Valerie’s head lolled gently toward her, eyes half-lidded. “You remember that time in Watson,” she whispered, “when I got shot and told you it was just a scratch so I could keep dancing at that stupid rooftop gig?”

Judy huffed softly. “You bled through my jacket and passed out in the middle of your own setlist.”

A soft smile ghosted across Valerie’s lips. “I’d do it again.”

They might’ve stayed there, wrapped in that lull of lowlight and memory, if not for the distant clank of the clinic’s alley door.

Judy tensed first. Not visibly, but Valerie felt it. The stilling of her thumb. The slight lift of her breath. Then the sound of voices low, male, foreign. Sharp consonants wrapped in calm menace.

Japanese.

Valerie’s eyes opened fully. She caught Judy’s and saw the same thing reflected back: trouble.

They both stayed silent, not moving. Footsteps echoed on the concrete outside the room, firm and precise boots that weren’t Vik’s.

“…are you certain the van belongs to her?” one voice asked in Japanese, steady, clipped.

“Hai. Villefort Sea Dragon. Parked near Misty’s Estorica. It matches our last sighting. Alvarez’s partner is the registered owner.”

Valerie didn’t breathe. She didn’t have to understand every word, just the names. Misty. Alvarez. Van.

They were here.

Another voice, lower, older: “We already swept the apartment. Charter Street is burned. This clinic… is the only remaining link. Vik Vektor is a known associate.”

Judy’s jaw tensed. Valerie squeezed her hand, a faint warning. Don’t move yet.

Beyond the door, they could hear Vik’s voice now calm, like usual, but firmer than they were used to. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Haven’t seen her in weeks.”

“You’re protecting fugitives. That makes you complicit.”

“I’m a ripperdoc. I don’t ask questions about where my clients sleep or who they piss off.”

Silence followed. Then the sound of something heavier, maybe a datapad hitting the counter.

Valerie reached for the edge of the blanket. Her fingers trembled, but the edge folded back slowly, deliberately. Judy had already slid upright beside her, barefoot, every muscle coiled in quiet restraint.

Their guns Last Ride, #1 Crush was on the night stand beside the bed.

If it came to it, they’d be ready.

For now, they listened, barely breathing, as the noose began to pull tighter around the quiet haven they’d just started to rebuild.

Valerie shifted under the blanket, trying to brace her arm against the mattress and push herself upright just a little. The movement lit up something deep along her side, white-hot and tearing. Her jaw clenched as she bit back a cry, hand flying up to clamp over her mouth.

She tasted gauze and copper.

Judy spun at the sound barely a breath, but she caught it. Her eyes locked with Valerie’s in the half-light. Wide, steady. Her head gave the smallest shake.

Stay still.

Valerie’s hand trembled against her mouth, breath caught in her throat. She nodded once, barely perceptible, and sank a little deeper into the pillow. The sheets stuck to her back with sweat.

Judy moved.

Quiet as breath, she turned and reached for the nightstand. #1 Crush was waiting slim, heavy, silver under the strip of light leaking in from the hallway. Judy curled her fingers around the grip, triggered off, muzzle low. No sound.

She dropped into a low crouch beside the bed, bare knees brushing the cool floor tile, shoulders tucked close to the beds edge. Her tank had slipped slightly off one shoulder, her collarbone tight with tension.

The voices outside were still going.

“…no logs. No recent check-ins. But he’s stalling. He knows something.”

“I say we sweep the clinic.”

“Not yet. If they’re here, they’re wounded. Still weak. No need to spook them. Let Vektor sweat.”

Valerie’s breath hitched again, too quiet to be heard over the faint hum of the med units. Her fingers curled tight in the blanket, blood pounding at her temple. She felt helpless, but not useless.

Across the bed, she could still see Judy’s silhouette in the half-dark. Kneeling, listening. The muzzle of her revolver steady as a held breath, trained low but ready.

One wrong step and the door would open.

They weren’t running anymore.

Not now.

The first pair of boots moved close just past the doorway to the back room, the soft scuff of tread over old tile. There was a rustle, a low metallic clink. A drawer opened, shut again.

Then came the voice. Closer than before.

“…Hold up.”

Judy didn’t move. She stayed kneeling beside the bed, half-shadowed by the bed’s frame, revolver steady in her hand.

“What is it?” the second voice called, somewhere toward the front of the clinic.

A pause. Gloved fingers brushing something.

“Long red hair. A few strands stuck to the operating table.”

Valerie’s emerald eyes snapped to Judy, breath catching. She didn’t remember losing any hair, hadn’t even seen herself in a mirror since waking, but she didn’t need to. The dull throb in her scalp, the sweat in her hairline it wouldn’t take much.

Judy stayed perfectly still, but her shoulders tensed. Her other hand pressed gently to the edge of the bed near Valerie’s hip. A quiet signal: don’t move.

The voice outside dropped lower.

“She was here. Has to be.”

The second man muttered something under his breath, too faint to make out. Then clearer “If they’re hiding, they won’t get far. Keep Vektor under watch. We’ll sweep again.”

A soft click followed, like a safety being toggled.

Then silence.

Bootsteps retreated. No hurry, just calm certainty. The kind of walk that promised they’d be back.

Judy didn’t exhale until the front door shut with a hollow echo.

Not safe. Just borrowed time.

Judy lowered herself slowly, the soft creak of her knees barely audible against the clinic’s ambient hum. She settled on the floor beside the bed, back braced against the frame, revolver still in her lap. Her dark brown eyes stayed locked on the door like it might try to breathe on its own.

The lights overhead flickered once old wiring or maybe just nerves twisting her perception. The room was cold now, cooler than it had been, and the sting of antiseptic clung sharp to the back of her throat. Valerie’s breath came soft behind her, each inhale shallow but steady. Her skin brushed faint against the blankets, still clammy, still fragile.

Judy spoke low. Not a whisper. Just enough to be real between them.

“I don’t know how the hell we’re getting out of this,” she said. “You’re in no shape to fight, Val. And I don’t think they’re done circling.”

Beyond the door and thin clinic walls, they heard the quiet shuffle of Vik easing into his old desk chair. A deliberate sound just loud enough to be casual, like he hadn’t just lied through his teeth to Arasaka operatives standing in his shop. He moved something on the desk. Papers maybe. Then the snap of the remote.

The TV crackled on, just loud enough to fill the silence. The synthy sting of the N54 intro jingle followed, clean and sterile like a knife.

“…Breaking news just in from Arasaka HQ in the wake of last night’s unprecedented assault. The corporation has now identified the two fugitives seen fleeing Arasaka Tower moments after the attack as Valerie Alvarez the mercenary known in some circles as V, and her wife, Judy Alvarez, a known associate and former braindance technician.”

Judy’s knuckles whitened on the grip of her revolver.

The news anchor’s voice stayed smooth, unaffected.

“Empress Hanako Arasaka has officially placed a bounty on the pair. Rewards will be offered for any information leading to their capture… dead or alive.”

Valerie let out a breath that barely carried. “…fuck.”

Judy turned toward her, dark brown eyes still lit with the reflection of the clinic light under the doorway.

Her voice came soft again. “If we make it out of this…” she exhaled, “we’re out, Val. Done. There’s no other option anymore. We find a way out of Night City.”

Valerie blinked up at the ceiling, pain flickering just beneath the surface. Her jaw flexed. She didn’t argue right away.

“Go where, Jude?” Her voice cracked, dry as old paper. “They already torched our place. Our faces are on every screen. We don’t have anything left.”

The overhead fan hummed above them. A faint rattle from its uneven spin. Somewhere outside the clinic, a dog barked once short and startled. Then silence again, too thick and too wide.

Judy leaned her head back against the bedframe, letting her eyes close for a second. “Then we take whatever we’ve got left,” she murmured, “and we start from that.”

Her hand reached up, brushing the edge of the cot until her fingers found Valerie’s again.

“No chrome. No backup. Just us.”

Valerie didn’t answer yet, but her fingers curled against Judy’s palm.

Valerie shifted under the blanket with a low groan, the sound caught somewhere between stubborn and pained. Her hand brushed over her bandaged side, testing the stretch of her ribs, the tight pull where her cyberware used to anchor.

“Jude…” Her voice was rough. Dry. “Hand me my clothes.”

Judy looked over, already halfway there. “You sure?”

Valerie gave a small nod. “I need to be ready. Just in case.”

Judy didn’t argue. She crossed to the small chair near the far wall, where Valerie’s shirt had been folded in a careful heap. She passed it over first soft black cotton, worn thin at the collar then the jeans, then her boots, still speckled with dried concrete dust from the tower’s base. She lingered for a second before standing upright again and reaching for her own jeans, tugging them back on with quick, practiced movements. The denim clung slightly still stiff from the dried rain, but she made no comment. Just bent to slide her boots on and pulled the laces tight.

Valerie sat upright slowly, teeth gritted, her arms trembling faintly as she worked the shirt down over her head. Her fingers weren’t steady, but she didn’t complain. The jeans took longer. She hissed as the denim brushed her thighs and ribs, but managed to fasten the button, leaning forward a little too long afterward to catch her breath.

Judy hovered nearby, but didn’t reach in. Just watched, her expression tight at the edges.

Once they were both dressed, they sat beside each other on the edge of the bed. The room was quiet again too quiet. Only the static hum from the ancient monitor in the corner, the low flicker of the TV from Vik’s clinic, and the distant screech of a railcar cutting through the city.

Valerie’s hands rested on her knees. Her thumb traced along the frayed edge of her boot cuff.

“…What happens to Vik,” she said quietly, eyes still on the floor. “Even if we get out.”

Judy didn’t answer right away. She followed Valerie’s gaze, lips pressing into a line. The weight of the question hung between them like the pressure before a storm.

“He’s already in it,” Judy murmured. “Just for keeping his mouth shut.”

Valerie turned toward the sound of Vik’s chair creaking faintly out front. She could picture him there hunched in the half-light, pretending to do paperwork, trying to look unbothered with a camera probably staring him down from the corner of the room.

“He doesn’t deserve this,” Valerie said.

“No,” Judy agreed. “But you were like a daughter to him. He knew that meant standing with you. I think… I think he made peace with that a long time ago.”

Valerie exhaled slowly through her nose, the pain tucked somewhere under her ribs this time not from stitches. Something older. Guilt-shaped.

She leaned into Judy, just enough for their shoulders to brush.

Outside, the city grumbled like a restless animal. A newscopter roared overhead. Tires screeched in some far-off alley.

Valerie’s thumb dragged slowly over her knee, her jaw working in silence. The low hum of the clinic, the flickering light off the ancient TV screen outside, the too-steady quiet beyond the door all pressed in around them like the world was holding its breath.

Then, finally, she spoke.

“Did I make the right call?”

Judy looked at her. Really looked. The red in Valerie’s hair was dulled by pain, her freckles paler than usual, her shoulders dipped from more than just exhaustion. But her eyes, those emerald flecks, still held something fierce beneath the wear. A question asked too many times in too many forms.

Valerie continued, voice low. “I burned everything we had to finish this on our terms. Now we’re holed up, hunted… no safety net. Just each other.”

Judy’s hand moved gently, resting over Valerie’s. She didn’t hesitate.

“You came home to me, Val.” Her voice was soft but sure. “That’s what matters.”

She leaned in, brushing her temple against Valerie’s, nose tucked against her cheek. “We both knew the risks. I’d still fight through hell beside you over selling our lives to any corpo script pusher.”

Valerie closed her eyes. Let it sit there for a second. That warmth. That weight. She took it in like a breath.

Then her eyes opened again, slow and deliberate. Her voice was quieter now, but steadier.

“We meet them head-on,” she said. “No running. Make a break for the van before the backup swarms in.”

Judy’s fingers tightened around hers. She didn’t look away.

“And if you black out from pushing too hard?” she asked gently. “This isn’t a street fight, we don't have a crew out there. No backup. Just you, me, and two guns.”

Valerie gave her a look equal parts gratitude and grit. “Then you drag my ass into that van, Jude.”

Judy huffed through her nose, not quite a laugh. “Of course I will. Dumbass.”

She paused, leaning forward until her forehead rested against Valerie’s once more. Her voice dropped to barely a breath.

“Let’s try sneaking out first. Keep it quiet. Only shoot if we have to.”

Valerie nodded.

She tilted forward, lips finding Judy’s, warm and unhurried. A promise not desperate, not final. Just steady.

When she pulled back, the pain returned like a knife between her ribs, sharp enough to steal her breath. She winced, hand braced on Judy’s thigh, then groaned as she forced herself upright.

Boots scraped gently against the floor as she stood. Her breath came rough through her nose.

Judy stood beside her, reaching instinctively to help. They didn’t speak. They didn’t need to.

The room settled around them one breath, then another.

Outside, the TV droned on, the voice still rattling from the speaker:
“…the fugitives Valerie Alvarez and Judy Alvarez… last seen near Watson… rewards have doubled…”

Judy’s hand closed around the grip of #1 Crush.

Valerie’s fingers brushed the holster at her side, resting for a beat on the handle of Last Ride.

No turning back now.

The metal handle felt colder than it should’ve. Valerie’s fingers curled around it, steady despite the low throb in her ribs. Judy crouched beside her, hand already wrapped around #1 Crush, body tense in a quiet coil. They exchanged one last look sharp, silent and Valerie eased the door open just enough to peer out.

The hallway was lit by the faint yellow cast of a flickering clinic bulb. Vik’s desk sat empty now, but the low whine of something mechanical drifted in steady, cycling.

Judy pointed.

The drone hung just outside Vik’s operating room, tucked in the corner near the ceiling. Not Arasaka-standard too stripped-down but smart enough to log motion, audio, heat.

Surveillance. A leash.

Valerie grimaced. They didn’t speak, just dropped lower, keeping to the far wall as they crept toward the side steps, muscles taut, shoulders close. Judy moved with ghost-quiet precision, boots kissing the tile, always glancing back to check on Valerie. Each step cost something, but Valerie pushed through it, keeping low, her breath short and silent through her nose.

The old side door was right ahead.

Judy reached first, hand brushing the frame, just about to pull it open…

It swung inward.

The man was already there.

He was tall, shaved head, no visible chrome just a black jacket, silver trim, and the unmistakable quiet stillness of someone trained to kill without making noise. His eyes locked onto Valerie first. Then Judy. Then down to the gun in her hand.

Nobody moved.

Somewhere out on the street, a car backfired.

Then came the voice, low and accented but clear.

“…Valerie Alvarez.”

Judy’s jaw tightened. Her finger didn’t twitch, but her whole arm had the charge of a spring.

The man didn’t draw. Didn’t blink.

Valerie’s voice came hoarse, but even. “Depends who’s asking.”

“No one you want to see again,” he said. “But I’m not here to shoot you.”

Judy’s gun rose half an inch anyway. “Could’ve fooled me.”

He didn’t step forward. He didn’t have to. His hand hovered near his jacket, but not on the weapon. Not yet.

“You’re already burned,” he said. “The reward has tripled since this morning. The drone’s feeding your faces to three different data nodes.”

Valerie straightened slowly, deliberately. Every nerve in her side flared, but she didn’t drop her eyes.

“Then why the warm welcome?”

The man’s lips pressed into something that wasn’t quite a smile.

“Because I can still be bought. And I’d rather not die in an alleyway.”

Judy’s brows flicked. “Then get out of it.”

His hand twitched at his side. Just slightly.

No one moved, and outside, the storm began to pick up.

Valerie’s emerald eyes didn’t flinch. The pain was already there, woven through the corners of her mouth and the taut line of her shoulders, but it didn’t reach her voice.

“You think I actually have that kind of eddies?”

The man tilted his head, and struck her.

A sharp, brutal crack of knuckles across her face enough to snap her head sideways and send her stumbling against the wall. The world tilted. Light flared behind her eyes. She caught herself on the doorframe, breath knocked out, blood in her mouth.

Judy’s scream tore through the alley.

“How dare you fucking touch her!”

The blast of #1 Crush lit the stairwell bright muzzle flash, point blank into the bastard’s chest. His jacket folded inward. He staggered, choked, then collapsed backward with a wet thud that echoed off concrete.

Valerie blinked, tried to move, but her limbs lagged behind thought.

Boots thundered above them.

Another man rushing the steps now, gun drawn, barking something in Japanese.

Valerie didn’t hesitate. Her fingers found Last Ride, the grip familiar even through the fire racing up her arm. She braced herself with a growl, squeezed off a three-round burst that caught him mid-descent chest, shoulder, and then cheekbone. He dropped hard, legs twisting beneath him.

But the recoil gods, the recoil.

It slammed up her nerves like lightning. Her arm buckled, her fingers spasmed open, and Last Ride clattered to the floor beside her boot. She cried out, the sound guttural, sharp knees folding as she sank to the ground.

Judy was already there. One knee in the blood-slick doorway, hand gripping Valerie’s side, dark brown eyes wild and locked on hers.

“Val…Val, baby…fuck, you’re okay, you’re okay…”

Valerie’s breath trembled. Her arm hung useless, shaking with the echo of muscle failure.

“Gun’s gone,” she rasped. “I can’t…I can’t shoot again, Jude.”

Judy’s hand slid to the back of her neck, anchoring her, forehead pressed to her temple, her voice low and fierce.

“You don’t have to. I’ve got you.”

The drone buzzed erratic, its movement shifting now alerted, maybe scanning again.

Blood spread beneath the man’s body.

The two of them, crouched in the half-light, still breathing, and holding on.

Judy reached down without a word, fingers slick as she picked up Last Ride from where it had fallen beside Valerie’s boot. She checked the chamber with practiced speed, then slid it back into the holster at Valerie’s hip, tucking it in slowly, careful not to jostle her ribs.

Her voice was low, barely a breath above the blood and concrete. “Can you still walk?”

Valerie nodded, but it was tight shoulders hunched, pain drawn across her jaw. Her right arm hung loose now, fingers barely twitching, but her legs braced solid beneath her. “Yeah,” she whispered. “Just… don’t let go, alright?”

Judy helped her up gently, one arm looped around her back, her other hand gripping tight at Valerie’s good side. Together they rose, the stairwell spinning faint for a moment before steadying beneath their feet.

They climbed slowly, Judy leading slightly, guiding her step by step up the narrow stairs. Valerie's boots scraped against the edges, balance delicate, breath catching with every bump, every jolt of pain that flared from her shoulder down her spine.

Outside the clinic, the alley felt too wide, too bright even in shadow.

They slipped toward the side gate rusted chain-link near the end of the passage, barely held closed by an old loop of wire. Judy reached for it with a glance over her shoulder, heart pounding so loud she could feel it in her throat.

She pulled the gate open just enough for them to squeeze through, Valerie ducking slightly to keep from brushing the raw metal edge.

Once out, Judy stopped.

Her eyes narrowed.

The van sat where she left it, tucked just past the corner of the block, paint dulled under a thin veil of city dust. Still intact, and close.

There were two men posted down the sidewalk one leaning against a lamppost, the other pacing near the mouth of a side alley. Both of them scanning the street like they were waiting for a ghost to show its face. One of them had his hand resting on a belt holster.

Judy eased Valerie down beside the chain-link, behind the cover of a dumpster slick with old oil and rain rot. Her hand brushed against hers again, grounding her as she whispered, steady but strained.

“Two more. Watching the van.”

Valerie closed her eyes for a moment, pain radiating through her skull in dull waves.

“Options?” she asked, breath tight.

Judy’s mouth pressed into a line. Her hand hovered over #1 Crush again, but didn’t draw yet.

“Run and gun’ll get us killed,” she muttered. “But we can’t wait, Val. If they call for backup or check the alley…”

Valerie’s eyes opened, emerald and sharp even through the haze. “Then we move first.”

The wind shifted.

Distant sirens again closer this time.

The wind caught the edge of Valerie’s shirt, tugged it against her side like it was trying to remind her how exposed she was. She leaned against the dumpster, pain sharp in her ribs, her whole left side a pulsing throb. Blood slicked the corner of her mouth; she hadn’t even noticed it. Not until Judy crouched beside her.

“Hey,” Judy whispered, hand already there, thumb wiping it away like it was nothing, like it wasn’t breaking her inside. “Stay here, mi amor. I’ll handle it.”

Valerie started to protest, but Judy gave her that look, the one that didn’t beg, didn’t ask, just said trust me. Then she stood.

Boots silent on pavement, pink and green strands catching the sun as she stepped into the open like she belonged there, like this whole mess hadn’t ever touched her.

“Hey, assholes!” she called out, voice rising loud and sharp across the street. “Looking for little ol’ me?”

The two men snapped to alert in an instant, hands reaching for steel, but Judy was already moving, gun raised in a blur.

Pop pop pop pop.

#1 Crush sang her song.

One dropped flat. The other staggered back, two shots in before the third hit center mass and flung him sideways against the curb.

The silence afterward was deafening. Just the soft click of Judy’s gun lowering. Her chest rose once, then steadied.

She turned already knowing, and there Valerie was, slow steps dragging behind her, one hand pressed tight to her side, her good arm holding her bad one close.

Judy’s brow furrowed, half scold, half heartbreak. “Told you to stay put.”

Valerie let out a slow, pained breath that might’ve been a laugh if it didn’t hurt so much. “Well… it’s good you handled it, babe.”

Judy was already moving, catching her before she could tip too far off balance, her hands curling beneath Valerie’s good arm to steady her. Behind them, smoke curled from the barrel of #1 Crush, and ahead, the van waited, open and ready.

“C’mon,” Judy murmured, voice low against Valerie’s red hair. “Let’s get the fuck out of here.”

Judy’s arm stayed steady beneath Valerie’s ribs as they made their way to the van, boots crunching over bits of gravel and city soot washed into the alley’s edge. The light had shifted the deeper gold of late morning slipping past broken signage, catching along the chipped edges of the old Sea Dragon’s frame.

Valerie didn’t say much, didn’t need to. Her breath came shallow, and each step dragged more weight than the last. But she moved. One hand pressed to her ribs, the other curled stiff near her side.

Judy pulled the door open and gently guided her in. The passenger seat groaned under the shift. Valerie leaned back against it with a tired wince, legs trembling too much to tuck in all at once. Judy leaned in with a hand on her cheek, brushing a bit of dust away with her thumb. “Almost there,” she murmured, voice barely above the wind.

Then the door shut, and Judy was already around the front, boots slapping asphalt with that familiar urgency. She climbed in, pulled the van into gear, her hands firm but cautious on the wheel.

Beside her, Valerie’s head lolled slightly to the side, green eyes clouded with exhaustion. “You good?” Judy asked softly.

Valerie managed a faint nod, lips parting like she wanted to speak, but her voice didn’t come right away. Her eyes dropped instead to the center console, where her holophone blinked low blue in the cup holder.

She blinked, tried to reach for it. Her fingers trembled as she pulled it free, smudging the cracked screen as she tapped.

The message glowed up at her, Mitch’s name at the top.

Left your gear North of the city out by the old post you know the one.
Take care both of you.
Heading to regroup with Panam.

Valerie’s lips parted in a slow breath. Her thumb hovered over the screen a second longer before she let it fall to her lap.

“Hey, Jude…” she murmured, voice thin, barely pushing through the ache. “Family’s still looking out for us.”

Judy glanced over, one hand still tight on the wheel. “Yeah?” she asked, soft, just enough to pull her back in.

Valerie’s gaze was unfocused, green dulled by the strain. “You remember that old outpost north of the city…” Her voice cracked a little. “The one near…”

The holophone slipped from her grip and hit the floor mat with a soft thud.

Judy’s eyes snapped over just a beat of panic before she saw the slow rise and fall of Valerie’s chest still there, steady, just… out.

Her face softened with relief and grief all tangled up, and she reached across the console, fingers brushing Valerie’s knee for a moment.

“Hang in there, babe,” she whispered. “We’re not done yet.”

As they passed the edge of Watson and dipped into the main throughway, the city screamed louder.

Every NCPD billboard flickered red and blue. Across the skyline, from Japantown to Charter Hill, their faces stared back at them.

FUGITIVES: VALERIE “V” ALVAREZ AND JUDY ALVAREZ
WANTED FOR TERRORIST ACTIVITY / ASSAULT ON ARASAKA CORPORATE TOWER
KNOWN VEHICLE: VILLEFORT SEA DRAGON / GRAY / PLATE 88-3EJ-KY
IF SEEN, REPORT IMMEDIATELY TO NCPD.

Judy swallowed hard, her jaw tensing.

The roads were already narrowing. Every lane felt tighter. The whole city watched now with concrete eyes and corporate teeth.

Her grip didn’t falter. Her foot pressed down. Out past the checkpoints, past the smoke towers and barricades, she already knew where they were going.

The skyline behind them began to bend, the glass and chrome of the city shrinking in the rearview, haze gathering thick over the distant towers. Judy’s fingers slid down the dash without looking, pressing the small square panel nestled beside the radio controls.

A soft chirp responded, followed by the faint shimmer of tech realigning. The van’s outer coat flickered like heat haze, gray folding into deep violet. A new coat blooming over it, smooth and glossy like oil on water. The plate numbers shifted a second later, the digits melting and reconfiguring, new numbers crawling across the feed at the base of the bumper.

Judy leaned into her seat and exhaled slowly through her nose. “Let’s see ‘em track that,” she murmured.

Valerie still hadn’t stirred. Her head tilted slightly toward the doorframe, red hair brushing her cheek, the frayed edge of her black shirt resting soft against the hollow of her collar. Judy reached out and turned the air down just a notch, not enough to chill, just to ease the warmth bleeding in through the windshield.

The last few blocks of the city narrowed around them, concrete curling into patches of broken sidewalk, old neon signs flickering low above closed shops. A closed-down joytoy motel passed on their right. Further ahead, an old Tyger Claws checkpoint stood half-abandoned. Graffiti covered what was once a security wall.

Then came the bend.

She didn’t hesitate. The Sea Dragon rolled forward, tires humming across pavement slick with dust.

Ahead, a rusted green sign leaned crooked over the shoulder of the road.

NOW LEAVING NIGHT CITY

Judy let her eyes linger on it as they passed. Didn’t say a word.

The buildings fell away fast. Industrial skeletons and shipping containers scattered across the flatlands, some still smoldering. Oil fields rose like broken ribs from the ground black towers motionless, casting long shadows over dry brush and cracked soil.

The van's hum grew louder as the tires hit the rougher road. The pulse of Night City faded behind them, replaced by wind against metal and the hollow echo of space. The badlands yawned wide , no checkpoints, no watchers. Just the road, and the sun baking low against the sky like an old scar healing too slow.

Judy’s grip on the wheel loosened slightly as she veered right, off the main highway. The tires jostled over dirt, loose gravel spitting at the fenders as the van angled north.

She didn’t need a navmap.

The old outpost wasn’t on any navmap.

Just a rusted structure near the foot of a dry bluff tucked in behind brush and what used to be wind turbines. Valerie had gone there before. So had Panam, and Mitch, and Saul when they believed it’d make a good forward watch post.

Now it was quiet. Out of sight. Maybe still standing.

“Almost there,” Judy whispered, voice catching in her throat. One hand on the wheel, the other resting lightly beside Valerie’s on the seat. Their rings gold against dusty knuckles catching the sunlight through the windshield as they drove deeper into the dust and silence.

The outpost came into view slowly, rising from the slope like a memory half-buried in dust. Its frame leaned with time corrugated siding patched with old tarp, sun-bleached wood bowing slightly around the edges. A rusted antenna jutted out the top, bent just enough to look like it had given up long ago. One of the windows had been boarded, another left half-cracked, dust clinging to the edges like dried blood.

Judy eased the Sea Dragon to a stop just beyond the bluff, gravel crunching beneath the tires. The van’s engine settled into a low idle before she killed it altogether, the silence rolling in behind like a held breath.

She sat still for a moment, both hands on the wheel.

Valerie’s head rested against the passenger window, the faint rise of her chest steady, lips parted just slightly in sleep. Her freckles looked softer in this light brushed gold under the Badlands sun, sweat and ash still dried near her hairline. Judy’s gaze lingered a second longer, then reached across and laid her hand gently over Valerie’s knee.

“I’ll be right back,” she murmured, fingers curling briefly before letting go.

She popped the door open and stepped out, boots hitting dry earth with a soft thump. The heat hit her at once sharp and dry, rising off the cracked soil in waves. Her right hand slid down to the holster clipped at her hip, fingers grazing the familiar grip of #1 Crush. The weapon felt steady, reliable, worn into her palm from years of use.

The air was still. Only the faintest whistle of wind through brittle grass and fencing wire.

She circled wide, boots crunching soft as she approached the outpost with measured steps. The door was half-hinged but still intact, a slight creak sounding as she nudged it open with her shoulder. Inside, the air was thick with dust and stale insulation, but no fresh tracks. No sign of looters or squatters. Just the layered scent of time, dry earth, old oil, the ghost of cigarette smoke baked into the walls.

Judy made a slow sweep, the barrel of #1 Crush clearing the corners one by one. The bunk frame was still intact. No power, but solar lines could probably be rigged if they had time. Pantry shelves bare. One overturned chair.

She stepped back outside, letting her shoulders settle as the weight in her chest loosened just a little.

Still alone, and quiet.

She turned her face toward the van Valerie still curled in the passenger seat, her head resting slightly lower now, as if the stillness had let her fall a little deeper. Judy’s hand hovered over her sidearm for just a beat longer before she let it fall back to her thigh.

Then she walked back one slow step at a time across the dust toward whatever shelter they could make out of what remained.

Judy eased open the passenger door, her palm catching it before the hinges could groan too loud. Valerie’s head shifted with the movement, but her body remained slack, boneless from exhaustion.

“Hey,” Judy whispered, leaning in. Her arms slipped gently under Valerie’s knees and shoulders, lifting with care born from too many days loving a woman made of steel and scars. Even now without the chrome Valerie still felt impossibly heavy in her arms. Not just body, but everything they’d carried to get here.

She backed out slowly, the door nudging shut with her boot, and turned toward the outpost.

The interior smelled like dry rot and old effort. Sunlight filtered in through the busted pane above the cot, casting a pale stripe across the mattress, worn but still intact. Judy lowered Valerie onto it with a breath, one knee sinking into the edge for balance.

“Should be safe for the night,” she murmured, brushing a few damp red strands from Valerie’s cheek. Her skin was warm, not fevered, but taxed. The kind of warmth that lingered after too much strain.

Judy stayed there a second, fingers barely grazing the swell of her cheekbone before standing. She turned, scanning the room again.

Her eyes landed on the gear crates tucked in the corner Mitch’s handwriting scrawled faintly on the lids in grease pencil. She moved toward them, crouching to unlatch each one. The first opened to rations: MREs, water bottles, and a zip-sealed pouch of dried fruit that looked like it’d been someone's half-assed lunch stash. Still good.

The second box made her pause.

The Laguna Belle sat nestled in foam, pristine and waiting. Beside it, a scatter of shells, extra mags, even an old cleaning kit wrapped in a bandana. Judy ran a thumb over the stock, then closed the lid softly.

The third trunk hit something quieter inside her. Their old camp clothes folded but smelled faintly of campfire and grease. Her faded tank top, Valerie’s torn denim vest, the flannel Judy always stole on cold nights. She smiled faintly, grabbing the blanket tucked underneath and two cold bottles of water from the first crate.

Back by the cot, Valerie hadn’t moved much, her head had rolled slightly, one arm flopped above the blanket line. Judy crouched again, setting the bottles aside and gently pulling back the fabric around her side.

The stitches held. The bruising had gone from crimson to something purple-black. A thin trail of dried blood still clung to her temple from where the agent’s hand had cracked her across the mouth.

Judy swallowed and reached for a cloth from the crate lid beside her. She dabbed on some water to take the dried blood away, slow, careful not to wake her. Valerie didn’t stir.

“Still here,” she murmured, brushing her thumb along the line of Valerie’s jaw before pulling the blanket over her shoulders.

Then she sat. Not far just close enough that her leg pressed against the frame of the cot. She unscrewed the cap on one of the bottles, took a sip, and leaned back against the wall.

The old wood creaked with her weight. Outside, the wind had picked up soft howls across the dry plain, ghosting through the broken fencing like a warning or a lullaby.

For now, it was quiet.
For now, she watched Valerie breathe.

The wind outside rustled dry across the metal siding, brushing the edges of silence like fingers against a frayed shirt hem. Judy sat still for a moment longer, bottle halfway to her lips, her mind flickering between memory and maplines, past and forward.

She swallowed the last mouthful of lukewarm water, exhaled through her nose, and stood.

Out at the van, the heat had begun to slip from the air, but the hood still radiated warmth under her palm. She popped the back door, rifling through what was left two battery lamps tucked in with the old jump cables, a long-range emergency radio with a cracked dial, and that black duffel… the one they’d kept behind the driver’s seat during the tower run. Dusty now. Still zipped tight.

She hauled it over her shoulder and headed back in.

Inside, the shadows had stretched longer. Valerie hadn’t stirred. Just a faint twitch now and then, a shift of her shoulder under the blanket like her body still hadn’t given up the fight even while unconscious.

Judy set the radio and lamp down on the crate next to the cot, flicked the lamp on low. Warm yellow light spilled across the floorboards and caught the curve of Valerie’s face softer now, freckles dappled in golden hush.

She turned the radio knob slowly, static hissing through until it caught the tail end of a broadcast. She was just about to tune past it when the voice came through too polished, too neutral to be a local station.

“Arasaka Holdings, headquartered in Tokyo, would like to express its deep regret regarding the recent unrest in Night City…”

Judy froze, hand still on the dial.

“The actions taken by former executive Hanako Arasaka were not sanctioned by our board of directors and do not reflect our organization’s current direction.”

The words kept coming, clinical and cold as always, but somehow more surreal now. Judy stared at the radio, eyes narrowing.

“Effective immediately, Hanako Arasaka’s claims of corporate sovereignty over Night City are considered null and void…”

“Unauthorized bounty listings… violation of corporate charter…”

They were trying to wipe it clean. Rewrite the story. Just another page torn out of a chapter soaked in blood and spun into PR-friendly ash.

Judy muttered under her breath, something in Spanish tired and bitter. She sat down hard in the old metal folding chair beside Valerie. The chair groaned under her, one leg slightly bent. She let the duffel bag slump down next to her boots, then unzipped it and pulled out the folded map stuffed between two spare shirts and a flare gun.

She smoothed it across her lap, the old folds creasing where they'd worn soft at the edges. Panam’s markings were still there, dark ink traced from the city edge all the way southeast through the ghost towns, past the fractured rails, then to the Arizona line.

The rendezvous point was circled three times, bold and insistent.

Judy traced her finger along the route, jaw set, pulse slow but heavy in her throat. They’d have to avoid the main highways. Gas was limited. Valerie couldn’t handle long stretches without rest. And now… maybe Arasaka wasn’t hunting them outright. But that didn’t mean trust. Didn’t mean safe.

She looked over at Valerie again, her expression easing for a breath. The blanket had shifted slightly, one bare shoulder peeking free in the lamp’s low glow. Judy reached out, tugged it back over her.

“Still with me, babe,” she whispered.

Then sat back again, eyes on the map, the voice on the radio now long faded into music. She didn’t turn it off. Just let it play, low in the background. Something to keep the silence from feeling too final.

The bag gave a tired sigh as Judy shifted it open again, canvas rasping under her fingers. She tucked the map back between the spare shirts, smoothing the corner once like that would keep the route steady in her mind like creases could hold clarity.

Inside, the supplies were minimal. Gauze rolls, half-used antiseptic spray, a field pack of clot foam, a few crumpled packs of painkillers with faded expiry stamps. Judy bit the inside of her cheek, turning a small tin of antibiotic ointment in her fingers. It rattled faintly. Maybe two uses left if she was careful.

She glanced toward Valerie.

Still out. Chest rising in that shallow, rhythmic way. Her red hair had fallen slightly over her face again damp still at the roots, light catching faint across her lashes from the lamplight above. She didn’t stir.

Judy looked back down at the gauze in her hands, trying to remember exactly what Vik had said. Seventy-two hours minimum before removal… no soaking… watch for signs of infection…

Her thoughts started fraying at the edges, pulling out of order. Had it been seventy-two or seventy-eight? Was that for the stitches or the subdermal mesh? No, no mesh anymore. That was the point.

She set the tin down, rubbed her eyes. Her hands were starting to shake not much, but just enough that she could feel it in her wrists, like something was slipping past the surface now that there wasn’t a gun in her palm to keep it down.

The adrenaline that’d kept her upright through the van, the alley, the blood, the gunfire was fading fast, leaving her hollow at the seams. Muscles tight. Her brain fogged. She leaned forward, elbows on her knees, hands braced at the sides of her head.

The hum of the radio carried on behind her soft old jazz now, bleeding warmth into the quiet. Outside the wind swept low across the cracked dirt, just enough to rattle the edge of the outpost’s siding.

Judy exhaled slowly. She needed to rest. Even for a minute. Just long enough to keep herself from fraying all the way apart.

First the bandages. Make sure they are folded, within reach. Ointment in the crate. Pills tucked beside the lamp. Keep everything where she could find it when Valerie needed her again.

She worked quietly, automatic. Movements small. Precise. Like rituals. Like control. Anything to keep from tipping.

When she was done, she reached for the second folding chair near the wall, dragged it beside the cot, and finally let herself sit again. Close enough to feel Valerie’s warmth through the blanket. Just near enough to lay one hand on her thigh, her thumb tracing circles against the soft denim over her jeans.

“I love you Valerie,” she whispered, voice almost gone.

The radio played on. The trumpet sounded low and smooth. The wind kept rising, but inside the bunker, for now, it held.

Judy jerked upright, the chair screeching faint against the concrete as her breath caught hard in her throat.

Valerie was writhing on the cot, both hands clamped to the sides of her head like she was trying to tear something out of her skull. Her back arched once, heel slamming against the metal frame with a hollow clang, a sharp cry ripping from her chest.

“Jude…Jude…fuck, it’s burning…make it stop!”

Judy was already at her side, half-tangled in the blanket as she slid to her knees. Her hands found Valerie’s wrists, trying to pull them gently down without forcing it. Her eyes scanned quickly shoulders, neck, temples until she saw it. That slow, terrible crimson line trailing from Valerie’s left nostril, cutting toward the corner of her mouth.

Blood. Not a lot, but bright, too bright. Fresh. Thin.

Just like…

Judy’s heart kicked.

“Val…hey, look at me. Babe…look at me.”

Valerie thrashed again, teeth clenched, sweat breaking along her inked collarbone beneath the black shirt. Her eyes fluttered open for half a second, unfocused and glassy, the emerald hazed with pain.

“The nanites,” she gasped. “They’re…fuck..they’re hitting something old…I can’t…I can’t..”

Judy cupped the side of her face, thumbing away the blood, trying to keep her voice calm even though her chest was already folding in on itself.

“It’s okay. You’re okay. I’ve got you. It’s just the matrix trying to fix something too deep and too broken. You hear me?”

Valerie didn’t answer, just groaned low and keened, her head twitching toward the wall. Judy could feel it now beneath her fingers that heat under the skin, like circuitry gone haywire, burning itself raw trying to rebuild what Johnny’s engram had overwritten.

“You’re not dying,” Judy whispered, leaning close, hand sliding to cradle the back of her skull. “It just feels like it. I know. I remember. I remember the bleeding, the fire in my spine, the way it felt like my thoughts were clawing each other apart.”

Valerie shivered under her, breath stuttering. Her arms fell back, limp but twitching, like her muscles had given up the fight.

Judy moved fast, grabbing a clean cloth from the crate and gently wiping the blood again, careful not to press too hard. The radio still murmured in the background an old commercial looping, something about water purification credits, but it barely registered. Just static and time passing.

Judy checked her pupils. Still reactive, though sluggish.

“C’mon, Val… hold on,” she said softly, brushing a strand of damp red hair back from Valerie’s forehead. “You survived worse than this. You held Johnny in your damn head, and still found a way to love me. You’re not going out like this.”

Valerie’s eyes cracked open again. Just a sliver. Her breath rasped shallow, teeth clenched. But her gaze found Judy’s.

“…hurts like hell,” she whispered.

Judy kissed her temple, her voice catching. “I know.”

She reached behind her, fumbling through the crate for the pain meds Vik gave her. Her hands moved on an instinct pill slid under Valerie’s tongue, followed by a sip of water raised carefully to her lips.

Valerie swallowed, slow and shaky, her lashes fluttering again.

Finally, her body began to soften. Her fingers curled in the blanket, chest rising in broken rhythm but easing slightly. The tremors slowed.

Judy stayed there, arms around her, forehead pressed to Valerie’s, whispering anything she could think of. Old songs. Story fragments. The stupid nickname Panam once gave her. The promise of morning. The feel of sand at Laguna Bend.

Her own tears slipped silent down her cheek, falling into Valerie’s red hair, and she didn’t wipe them away. Not yet.

Not while the nanites were still fighting to keep the woman she loved alive.

The cot creaked faintly beneath their weight, the old frame groaning as Judy shifted just enough to hold her tighter without pressing against the stitches. Valerie’s breath had steadied to a fragile rhythm, short draws through parted lips, every few marked by the faintest tremble like her lungs were still deciding whether to trust the air again.

The cloth Judy had used was streaked now blood and sweat and something else, that thin silver shimmer the nanites left behind when they’d overexerted. She set it aside gently on the crate, the lamp casting long shadows across the floor, soft and gold, like dusk pretending to be dawn.

Valerie’s fingers twitched again, barely brushing Judy’s tank top before falling still.

Judy didn’t move. Just stayed, her cheek resting against Valerie’s temple, one hand curled loosely over her ribs where the pain had been the worst. She could feel it beneath the skin, the heat, the strange current, the wrongness. It wasn’t rejection, not entirely. It was the nanites clawing at the ghost of something that wasn’t supposed to be there anymore.

Johnny.

Judy blinked hard, staring at the far wall where an old calendar hung torn and yellowing, some pre-collapse logo half faded. The sound of the wind outside barely cut through the thick concrete walls of the outpost, but she could hear it shift long, dry passes over sand and bone. She didn’t speak and didn’t have to.

Valerie stirred slightly, head tilting toward her voice like she could feel it even if Judy hadn’t said a word. Her eyes stayed shut.

Judy finally pulled back, just enough to sit again in the folding chair. Her back ached. Her shoulder throbbed where she’d fired too many rounds too fast. But none of that mattered.

She reached down, brushed her fingers over Valerie’s freckled cheek again.

“You’re gonna make it,” she whispered. “You always do.”

Outside, the wind shifted again, a gust tugging faint against the edge of the old aluminum roof. One of the hanging tools in the corner clinked against the wall, like someone lightly tapping a glass in another room.

Judy glanced toward the supplies. She’d have to change the bandages soon. Check for fever. Rehydrate her if she doesn't wake soon.

But for now just for now she let her hand rest gently over Valerie’s, their fingers tangled, a soft tether across the cotton blanket.

She didn’t close her eyes. She needed to be awake. Someone had to be.

The hours passed slowly, measured only by the drifting light through the high narrow window and the ticking whisper of sand skimming the outer walls. Judy didn’t bother with the chair anymore. She sat on the cot now, half-curled beside Valerie again, one leg bent beneath her and the other stretched toward the floor, her back lightly pressed to the wall. Her fingers traced the edge of the blanket over Valerie’s hip, not moving enough to wake her just enough to feel that warmth was still there.

The map lay folded tight again inside the bag. She’d gone through every item twice. Bandages, alcohol pads, burn gel, antibiotics. Vik’s notes were scrawled on the back of an old shipping receipt, his familiar tight lettering noting dosage timings, suture care, early signs of rejection, but none of them had covered this. Not the way Valerie had screamed herself out of sleep, eyes unfocused, hands clenched like her skull was trying to split open.

The blood was gone now wiped clean from her nose and lip, though Judy still felt the stain of it on her palms. She hadn’t seen Valerie’s face twist like that since the early days… when the relic first started to fail. But this wasn’t the relic. Not anymore.

This was what was left.

Judy leaned forward slightly, brushing her lips against Valerie’s hair. It was starting to dry out again, just barely tangled from sweat. A few red strands clung to Judy’s cheek as she whispered, “I’ve got you, mi amor.”

Valerie stirred faintly, not fully awake, her brow creased, her mouth parting in a soft breath, but her body still too wrung out to do more. Judy shifted the blanket up a little higher, hand pressing lightly at her side to check for fever. Cooler now. Still trembling a bit, but no worse.

She rested her forehead against Valerie’s shoulder, just letting her eyes close for a second.

Outside, a noise in the distance again closer this time. One more low rumble, then silence.

Judy didn’t flinch.

If anything came for them out here… she'd hear it. She still had rounds left. The van was fueled. The route was memorized.

They just had to make it through the night.

Valerie stirred with a slow, careful breath. The pain wasn’t gone, just dulled into something she could breathe through, like a bruise settling behind her temples. The pill Judy had given her was working, at least enough to let her slip between the hurt for a little while. The blanket had shifted down her hip a bit, cool air brushing her skin where stitches pulled beneath.

She blinked a few times, adjusting to the warm, low light of the outpost. The lamp still glowed soft amber from the crate nearby, throwing long shadows across the stone walls. The radio had gone quiet just static now, low and even. But none of that really held her. Judy did.

Half-asleep but stubbornly upright, nestled into the space between Valerie’s shoulder and collarbone, her cheek resting just beneath the scar on Valerie’s neck. Her eyes were open, barely, ringed with dark exhaustion, the pink and green strands of her hair soft and dull in the lamplight. She looked like she hadn’t slept in days, but still, somehow, the most beautiful thing Valerie had ever seen.

Valerie swallowed against the dryness in her throat, lips cracked as she whispered, “Hey, Jude.”

Judy’s dark brown eyes lifted only a little, but that familiar spark flared warm even through the haze.

“Feeling better?” she asked, her voice rough but soft. She nestled closer, her hand sliding lightly beneath the blanket to rest against Valerie’s side, careful around the bandages.

Valerie let out a breath, wincing slightly. “Slight ringing… but nothing sharp. Could do without the skull concert, but I’ll take what I can get.” Her stomach gave a quiet growl under the words. “I think I’m hungry.”

Judy let out the faintest laugh, a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. She pressed a kiss to Valerie’s shoulder, just below the edge of the gauze.

“Mitch left us a couple of boxes,” she said, still soft. “One of ’em’s the synth chicken and rice. The kind you used to snag on field runs and pretend was some gourmet delicacy.”

Valerie cracked a crooked smile. “Nomad cuisine at its finest.”

Judy smiled too, fuller this time, the kind that pulled just a little light back into her face. She pulled back enough to brush a hand through Valerie’s tangled red hair, letting her fingers linger against her temple, thumb grazing gently past her freckles.

“I’ll warm it up. Might even find a clean fork if the Badlands gods are merciful.”

Valerie’s eyes fluttered half-closed, a tired chuckle caught in her throat. “Love you even if you bring it with a screwdriver.”

Judy leaned in, kissing the corner of her mouth. “Noted. Hold tight, mi amor.”

Judy eased off the cot slowly, trying not to jostle Valerie too much. Her legs ached with that deep, anchored exhaustion the kind that came when adrenaline had long since burned out, leaving only gravity and worry to hold her upright. She stretched her back once, quietly, then grabbed the blanket again and tucked it a little closer around Valerie’s hips.

The gear crates sat nearby, where she’d left them earlier. The food had already been cracked open, its contents packed tight but familiar Aldecaldo-sealed MREs, a canister of purified water, a heat coil wrapped in an old sock. She dug through until she found the synth chicken and rice, still vacuum-packed in its gray-ridged tray. She held it up toward Valerie with a small smirk.

“Gourmet coming up.”

The heat coil flickered to life with a spark. Judy crouched near the crate, the scent of plasticky spice already rising as the tray warmed. Her shirt clung to her back with sweat that hadn’t dried. Every so often she glanced sideways just to see if Valerie was still breathing steady.

She was. Pale, lips chapped, but eyes open now and tracking the light as it played along the bunker walls.

“You remember,” Valerie said quietly, voice scratchy but clear, “that night on the ridge… just outside Jackson Plains?”

Judy blinked, looking back. “The one where Mitch swore the can of beans was chili?”

Valerie gave a faint grin. “He said it was ‘regional.’ I said it was expired.”

Judy laughed under her breath, shaking her head as the tray clicked done. “You still ate it.”

“I was starving.” She winced, shifting her shoulder. “Think I’d eat it again right now.”

Judy tore open the tray seal and dug out a plastic fork from the bottom of the crate. She sat back on the edge of the cot and let the warmth of the tray rest on her thighs for a second before holding it out.

“Easy,” she said, holding a hand under Valerie’s as she took the fork. “You overdo it again and I’m duct-taping you to the cot.”

Valerie chuckled, but it broke into a quiet cough. “Wouldn’t be the worst idea…”

Judy helped guide the first few bites until Valerie could hold the tray in her lap, her hand still trembling slightly but managing. The food wasn’t good, but it was warm. Tangy spice over soggy rice, a hint of artificial lemon buried in the processed meat.

But it tasted like safety.

For a minute, they didn’t talk. The Badlands outside had quieted, no more wind, just a low hum from the coil, the occasional crackle of static on the radio.

Judy leaned her arm gently behind Valerie’s back, palm resting flat against the cot. She watched the shape of her, the steadiness returning to her jaw, the focus starting to come back to her eyes even through the bruising.

They were still hunted. Still cut off from the city. Still bleeding, but they were here.

They had a little food, a quiet room, and each other.

Valerie held out the bite with a slight tilt of her wrist, fingers still trembling faintly around the fork.

“Should eat something too, babe.”

Judy leaned in with a soft hum, teeth catching gently on the edge of the fork before she chewed. Her dark brown eyes stayed on Valerie even after she swallowed.

“I just..” she paused, voice low, the edges of sleep still clinging to it. “I wanted to make sure you were okay first.”

Valerie gave a tired little smile, cheeks pale but emerald eyes steady. “You’ve been doing that since I met you.”

Judy kissed her cheek and stood again, brushing her hand along the edge of Valerie’s jaw as she stepped back toward the gear crate. She grabbed a bottle of water and cracked it open, bringing it over first before crouching back down by the food crate to find her own tray.

“Chicken too?” Valerie asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Please,” Judy said. “You think Mitch gave us options?”

She fired up the heat coil again and sat cross-legged by it, one hand rubbing at her eyes before she reached into the bag and grabbed the small tin of season salt they used to swipe from camp kitchens.

As it warmed, she spoke not looking at Valerie yet, just letting the words come slowly.

“That Arasaka press release ran while you were out,” she said. “Corporate apology tour. Called Hanako rogue, said all the bounties were unauthorized. The whole city’s supposed to forget.”

Valerie let out a low breath that tipped into a soft laugh. “They buried us under a press release.”

Judy finally looked over, head tilted. “They haven’t forgotten. Or forgiven. Just trying to make up for their own failure. If we’re ghosts, no one has to answer for us.”

Valerie’s fingers brushed at the edge of her tray. “Well… at least for now I’m the only one who gets to see that beautiful face of yours. Not every screen across the city.”

Judy laughed, that soft rasp of it catching in her throat as she pulled her tray off the heat and brought it over, sitting beside Valerie again.

“You better,” she murmured, bumping her shoulder lightly against hers. “You got the only backstage pass.”

They ate slowly, half the bites quiet, half filled with glances and subtle touches. The room felt warmer now, even with the night pressing close. Valerie’s body still hurt, her stitches itched faint under the bandages, but her fingers had steadied a bit. Judy’s presence stayed close, steady as breath, always within reach.

After a few minutes, Judy glanced at her again, eyes thoughtful.

“I decided,” she said softly. “We’re going to Arizona.”

Valerie didn’t answer right away. She set her tray down, hands folding loosely in her lap. “I know we talked about it… before the assault. I just… didn’t want to push the nomad life on you.”

Judy leaned in, fingers gently brushing a grain of rice from Valerie’s lower lip before resting her hand against her cheek.

“Home,” she said, voice low and sure, “is wherever you are.”

Valerie closed her eyes a moment, then opened them again, just enough to meet Judy’s gaze. Her smile didn’t quite reach full strength but it didn’t need to.

It was real, and it stayed.

Valerie winced a little as she leaned over, shoulder stiff, body still catching from the inside out. Her fingers threaded gently through Judy’s hair, brushing the loose strands of pink, and green from where they hung over her cheek before she pressed a soft kiss to the rose tattoo on her neck, her lips lingering there, warm against skin.

She took a slow breath, pain tucked behind her voice.

“You know,” she murmured, “somewhere in Arizona, you’re gonna have to pull these stitches out. Inside the back of the van.”

Judy smirked, teeth flashing faint in the lamplight. “Wouldn’t be the first time I patched that sexy ass back together,” she said, nudging her knee lightly against Valerie’s, “and sure as shit won’t be the last.”

Valerie let out the smallest huff, almost a laugh. Judy reached over and fed her another bite, gentle, careful with the angle. Valerie leaned in against her shoulder as she chewed, the warmth of her still the only steady thing in a world trying to scatter them across the map.

Judy set her tray aside after finishing, brushing her hand softly down Valerie’s forearm, fingertips tracing the inked rose with the names tucked along the stem. “Valerie,” just above the leaves. “Judy” curling just below, stitched in a looping script. Forever, always.

She gave her a look, then nodded toward the med kit beside the gear crates. “Time to change your bandages.”

Valerie made a soft noise, not quite a complaint, more a recognition. “Don’t suppose the bathroom works?”

Judy snorted. “Wouldn’t count on it,” she said, standing up and stretching out her arms with a quiet groan. “But if you gotta go…”

Valerie shifted upright on the cot with a grunt, one hand pressed to her side as she caught her balance. “Probably good to stretch either way.” Her eyes drifted toward the half-open door on the far side of the outpost, the little side room that had once been a supply closet, now barely a working restroom. “There’s our throne.”

Judy grabbed the second lantern and carried it over, setting it just inside the bathroom so the light could catch the edge of the old tiled floor. On her way back, she cleared a few trays off the cot and rubbed some water into her hands, drying them on the edge of her shirt.

“You okay to walk?” she asked, voice dropping low again.

Valerie took a breath. Her legs still shook, her balance not fully hers, but her spirit had always come back quicker than her muscles.

“I got it,” she said, and after a few slow steps toward the doorway, it looked like she meant it.

Judy watched her go with narrowed eyes and a soft murmur under her breath half prayer, half habit.

While Valerie disappeared into the bathroom, the lantern glow stretched across the far wall, long and flickering. Judy crouched back down, gathering the disposable trays half-crushed edges and all, and stacked them off to the side on a clean crate. She just needed the space clear, the cot free. Her fingers moved on muscle memory. Focused, sharp, quiet.

She took a second to breathe, elbows on her knees, the hush of the bunker settling around her like dust. That ache behind her emerald eyes hadn’t gone away. Too much tension still curled behind her jaw, but she pushed through it.

Judy stayed crouched near the cot, fingers brushing the dirt off to the side, muffled by the thick blanket beneath it. The old floor groaned faintly under her feet as she rose, grabbing the water bottle off the crate. She gave it a shake out of habit before walking toward the open bathroom door, lamplight stretching long shadows across the bunker floor behind her.

Inside, Valerie stood near the sink, one hand braced lightly on the edge. Her head tilted slightly as she reached for the faucet, fingers slow, jaw set. The handle creaked stiff beneath her grip.

A harsh cough came from the pipes. Then nothing but a dry clunk.

“No surprise,” she muttered, lips curling in a tired half-smirk. “Jude, the water doesn’t work.”

Judy stepped just inside the doorway and held the bottle out. “Figured. Brought backup.”

Valerie looked over her shoulder, eyes catching the lamp-glow as she took the bottle. Her thumb lingered along Judy’s wrist for a second, just grounding herself. The smirk softened, worn thin but still warm.

“Thanks, babe.”

Judy gave a small nod. “Use what you need. Then we’ll get you patched.”

Valerie unscrewed the cap, taking a slow drink first before pouring a small amount into her hand and dabbing lightly at her face wiping away what she could of the blood still dried near her mouth and hairline. She hissed once under her breath when her fingertips brushed too close to the bruising.

Judy stayed close by, watching with a steady gaze, but not hovering. Just enough presence to hold the moment quiet.

Back in the main room, the radio crackled faintly through static. The cot sat ready, the medical kit open and waiting. The night stretched ahead of them, quiet, and uncertain.

Valerie turned toward her with a slow smile, uneven but real. Her legs still weren’t steady each step carrying the soft sway of exhaustion, but she made it a few paces anyway. Arms slipping around Judy’s waist, fingertips brushing instinctively along the ink above her hips. The little seahorses faded slightly with time, her thumb tracing their curved backs like the memory was hers too.

She leaned in, lips catching Judy’s with a quiet pull, deeper than breath. Judy didn’t resist just eased into her, careful of the stitches, one hand rising to the small of Valerie’s back. They stayed like that for a long second, the kiss full of ache and everything unspoken.

When Valerie finally pulled back, she smiled faintly, breath warm against Judy’s cheek. “Still the best medicine.”

Judy huffed a soft laugh, brushing her knuckles under Valerie’s chin. “You keep kissing me like that and I’m gonna run outta gauze.”

Valerie wobbled slightly, knees catching a subtle tremor from standing too long. Her hand tightened against Judy’s hip just to stay upright.

Judy didn’t say anything just reached around her without breaking contact and grabbed the lantern off the sink. She adjusted her grip to catch Valerie’s hand in her own, fingers threading through hers as she gently coaxed her back toward the cot.

“C’mon,” she murmured. “Let me take a look.”

They moved slowly, the low hum of the radio still buzzing in the background. The cot creaked as Judy helped her sit down, legs drawing up with care. The blanket bunched against Valerie’s thighs as Judy knelt beside her again, laying the lantern off to the side and rolling up her sleeves.

Her touch was deliberate as she began undoing the wrappings. Not rushed, or hesitant either. Just quiet hands and a tired kind of reverence, her breath soft against Valerie’s skin as she checked the stitches, careful for signs of tearing, swelling, or sores. The wounds were angry but clean, edges red but not weeping.

Judy exhaled as she looked up. “Stitches are holding,” she said, voice low. “No sign of infection. Gonna need to let ‘em breathe a little before I rewrap.”

Valerie leaned back slightly, lashes fluttering once before her gaze found Judy’s again. “You’re good at this,” she said quietly.

Judy smiled faintly as she reached for the ointment. “You’ve given me enough practice.”

Judy scooped a bit of the ointment with two fingers, the smell sharp, clean, synthetic eucalyptus undercut with something vaguely plasticky. She warmed it slightly between her hands before pressing it gently into the skin around the deeper tear on Valerie’s left side. The muscles there still twitched now and then like they hadn’t quite settled, but she kept steady, her thumbs working in soft circles, mind locked in the motion.

Valerie’s breath caught once, but she didn’t flinch. “Feels weird not having metal under there anymore,” she muttered. “Just… me.”

Judy glanced up at her. “You always were.”

A beat passed. Then Valerie chuckled low, rasped out, but real. “That some philosophical shit?”

“Only if you’re high,” Judy replied, smirking as she dipped back in for the fresh gauze. “Which… not ruling out.”

“I’m just in love,” Valerie said quietly, head tipping back against the wall, lashes catching faint in the low light. “Might be worse.”

Judy’s fingers slowed for a second as she looked at her. “Yeah,” she whispered. “Me too.”

The last of the wrapping went on clean, firm but not tight. She smoothed the tape into place with a palm along Valerie’s side, fingers pressing one last time to check for warmth, swelling anything that might say they weren’t out of the woods yet. Everything was holding. At least for now.

She leaned up and kissed Valerie’s shoulder, bare skin, soft and freckled, the place just above the edge of her shirt. It lingered for a second, grounding them both.

Valerie blinked at her, smiling with the edges of her mouth. “I smell like trauma and cheap antiseptic.”

“Don’t get cocky,” Judy said, but she leaned in again anyway and pressed her forehead gently to Valerie’s. “Still gorgeous.”

Outside the wind had picked up just enough to rattle something loose on the roof. Probably a piece of old venting. It clattered once, then settled again into the stillness.

Judy pulled the blanket up across Valerie’s legs and then eased herself down beside her on the cot. Not quite laying just close enough to feel her warmth, to stay within reach.

“Do you want anything else?” she asked softly, brushing a few strands of hair off Valerie’s forehead. “More water? Meds?”

Valerie gave a slight shake of her head. “Just you.”

Judy didn’t answer. She just let her hand rest there in Valerie’s hair, fingers combing slowly through the red until it calmed her own breathing too. The radio buzzed faintly in the background. The shadows held quiet around them.

Judy settled in slowly, careful not to jostle the cot or Valerie’s side. The thin mattress gave a soft creak as her weight shifted beside her again. She lay half-curled, one arm beneath her head, the other resting lightly across Valerie’s stomach, fingers splayed just above the rewrapped gauze.

Valerie didn’t say anything at first. She just let her fingers drift over the red spiderweb ink etched into Judy’s shoulder, the lines fine, precise, still vivid despite the years. She traced them without looking, just knowing the shape by feel, the way it stretched slightly when Judy breathed in.

Judy smiled. “If we head out early,” she murmured, “we should hit Phoenix in five, maybe six hours. Panam said they’d be set up by the foothills outskirts of the city, west ridge.”

Valerie let out a quiet breath, her thumb brushing over one of the lines again. “Think she finally put real curtains in the shower trucks?”

Judy huffed a laugh. “Doubt it. Knowing her? Just reinforced the clear ones with better clips.” She rolled her eyes, then leaned her head in closer against Valerie’s. “God, I’d kill for any shower right now though. Seriously. That’s my first act as an Aldecaldo. Suggest plumbing. Immediate plumbing.”

Valerie chuckled under her breath. Her voice was tired but warmer now, the edge of pain dulled just enough to let a little teasing through. “Once these stitches are out,” she said, voice low, “I want to do nothing but hold you underneath that water.”

Judy let that linger between them a second, her lips twitching into a grin she didn’t bother hiding.

“You better,” she said softly. “Or I’m draggin’ you in stitches or not.”

Valerie smirked, eyes half-lidded. “You wouldn’t.”

Judy shifted closer, her lips brushing just under Valerie’s jaw. “Try me.”

The wind kicked again outside, brushing dust along the walls of the outpost with a dry rasp. Inside, the radio buzzed a low hum of static, too faint now to catch words just enough to remind them the world hadn’t stopped. In that little sliver of space between their breaths, it didn’t feel like it mattered.

Valerie’s hand moved slowly, her fingertips threading through the pink and green strands that hung over Judy’s temple. Soft and quiet, just enough to shift a few of them back behind her ear. Judy let out a slow breath, the kind that cracked through the last of the tension in her shoulders, her body melting closer with the weight of everything finally letting go. Her lashes fluttered from the gentle touch, but she didn’t open her eyes.

Valerie smiled faintly, the corners of her lips barely tugging. “Goodnight, Jude,” she whispered.

Judy didn’t answer, maybe couldn’t, but her hand flexed softly against Valerie’s side, like she’d heard it all the same.

The cot creaked again as the wind shifted outside, brushing through the old gaps in the metal walls. Valerie stayed still. Her eyes stayed on Judy, watching the shape of her cheek where it rested just under her jaw. She could feel her breath there warm and even each exhale brushing her skin like something steady, like something safe.

Her fingers twitched a little. The nerve endings still fired at random, her side giving a brief spasm that pulled a breath through her teeth. But she didn’t move. Didn’t wince. Just let her eyes stay open a while longer.

The radio hummed, just static now.

She listened instead to Judy’s heartbeat. Let it fill the quiet, softer than the wind, but closer than anything else.

Little by little, her eyes drifted closed.

Sleep came slow, but it came.

The light had shifted again by the time Judy stirred no longer the cold edge of dawn but the softer, golden haze of late morning. It slipped through the narrow slats in the rusted siding, warm where it touched the edges of the cot and drifted in quiet streaks across Valerie’s arm. Dust hovered in the beams, lazy and slow, the kind that made everything look gentler than it felt.

Judy’s breath caught for a second before her eyes opened. The kind of wakefulness that came not from peace but habit. She blinked against the brightness, the dry ache in her joints flaring when she shifted against the thin cot mattress. Her body wanted more sleep and needed it, but her mind had already started turning again.

Valerie hadn’t moved.

Her chest rose and fell with a rhythm that, while shallow, stayed even. No spasms. No groans. Just the faint tremble of her lips parting on a breath too deep to be anything but dreaming. One hand had slid off the blanket during the night, resting loosely against the edge of the cot, her fingers curled slightly inward.

Judy didn’t speak. She just turned a little, careful not to jar the bed, one hand moving instinctively to check the edge of the bandages again still dry. Her eyes trailed across Valerie’s face, down to her collarbone where a few bruises still bloomed faint violet beneath her shirt. Her thumb brushed the corner of Valerie’s mouth, wiping away a smudge of dried skin.

“You’re holding steady, babe,” she murmured under her breath, soft enough it barely broke the air between them.

The radio in the corner had gone quiet sometime before dawn. A low battery maybe. Judy sat up fully this time, rubbing her eyes with the heel of her palm before running her fingers through her hair half-flattened on one side from sleep, pink and green strands spilling forward over her shoulder.

She stood, joints cracking faint in protest, and walked barefoot across the cool concrete floor toward the gear crates. The ache in her lower back tugged with every step, but she moved quiet, steady. Not like a soldier anymore. Just someone holding it together long enough to get them one more mile further down the road.

She pulled the food crate open and grabbed two bottles of water. No point heating anything yet. Valerie needed rest. If they were lucky, they could push off by early afternoon and still make Phoenix before dark.

She cracked one bottle open, took a long drink, then leaned back against the far wall. Watching the cot.

Watching her.

She didn’t have to say it out loud, but she’d gotten used to these moments. The quiet between storms. The heartbeat before motion.

Judy just stood there, holding two bottles of water, waiting for the woman she loved to open her eyes.

She was still watching the rise and fall of Valerie’s chest when the faint clunk sounded from outside.

Not loud. Just something shifting, metal brushing metal enough to make her head lift and her spine straighten. She held still, breath paused. Listened.

Another sound. This time something plastic, a low scrape across one of the storage shelves built into the side panel of the van.

Judy set both bottles down on the crate and crossed to the door in three steps, feet soft from sleep but pace sharp now. She grabbed #1 Crush from where it rested just inside the doorframe, her fingers curling around the grip as she stepped into the light.

The sun had risen higher while they were asleep. It caught against the windshield, washed the rusted paint of the van in a pale violet shimmer from the crystal coat still active. Nothing visible from the side angle. The van looked untouched.

Something moved inside.

She held her breath and approached, each step measured. Barely a whisper off the dust and gravel. Her other hand reached slowly for the back handle. She let the latch lift without the usual clack, easing the door open in one slow pull.

She saw a girl.

A red bob. Emerald eyes. A kid.

Young couldn’t be more than twelve, maybe younger by the scrawny arms and sun-chapped cheeks. Clothes looked slept-in for days. Face streaked with grime, a faded bandana tied loosely around her wrist. She was mid-rummage, one knee up on the supply crate, reaching for a vacuum-sealed protein bar when she froze.

Then those eyes went wide.

“Holy shit,” the girl blurted, staring like she’d just seen a ghost. “You’re Judy Alvarez!”

Judy didn’t lower the gun, but she blinked, head tilted just enough to show confusion. “I am,” she said carefully. “Who the fuck are you?”

The kid’s bravado cracked like a sidewalk under heat. She shifted back, awkward on the crate, suddenly a lot less sure of herself.

“Uh…I’m… I’m Sera,” she said, hands half-lifted, voice a mix of sheepish and breathless. “Didn’t know anyone was in there. I was just hungry.”

Judy still didn’t move for a second. Her eyes flicked across the van’s interior, no weapon, no radio, no gear beyond what she’d already packed. Just a hungry, tired, jittery kid who’d probably followed the van’s trail hoping for scraps.

Judy lowered the revolver halfway. “You alone?”

Sera nodded quickly, then hesitated. “Yeah. Been alone a while now.”

Wind stirred behind them, a low hum rolling across the dry ground. Judy exhaled through her nose. The adrenaline hadn't faded yet, but the way the kid’s ribs showed through her shirt didn’t lie.

“Get down,” Judy said finally, voice firm but not cruel. “Outta the van. Slow.”

Sera obeyed. She hopped down awkwardly, worn boots hitting the dirt beside Judy with a puff of dust. Her legs looked too thin for her frame. She was trying hard not to look scared.

Judy watched her for another moment, then holstered her revolver and reached back inside the van. Grabbed a bar. Tossed it.

Sera caught it, barely.

“You eat that,” Judy said. “Then you’re gonna explain how the hell you ended up in my van.” She jerked her head toward the outpost door. “Come on. Quiet. I got someone resting inside.”

Sera’s eyes flicked to the building, then back to the protein bar. Her voice dropped a little as she followed Judy toward the entrance.

“You won’t shoot me, right?” she asked. “I mean… I’m not trying to steal. I just didn’t know it was your van. I swear.”

Judy huffed, not looking back. “You’re lucky I was the one who opened the door.”

They stepped back into the outpost’s filtered light dust catching gold again in the air. The faint creak of the door closing behind them was the only sound.

Inside, Valerie still slept, her breath shallow but even.

And Sera… just stared.

“Is that…?”

Judy raised her hand. “Not another word until you’ve eaten.”

Sera nodded, already peeling the wrapper. Her fingers were shaking.

And outside, the dry wind kept rolling past the old outpost like nothing had changed, but it had.

Something had just stepped into their life, and for the first time, Judy didn’t feel like she and Valerie were running away from something.

They were about to run into something else entirely.

Judy handed her a bottle of water without a word, the seal cracking as it left her hand. Sera’s fingers curled around it tight, like maybe she thought it’d vanish if she didn’t hold on.

She drank too fast at first, half-coughing, then slowed when Judy didn’t say anything. The silence held for a beat. Not heavy, just waiting.

Judy crouched beside the crate again, arms draped over her knees, eyes steady. Not soft. Not yet. But steady.

“All right,” she said finally. “Where’s your mom? Or your clan?”

Sera’s eyes dropped, the water bottle tipping as she stared at the dirt floor like something might be buried there. Her voice didn’t crack, but it came out small.

“I was riding with my mom Sindy,” she said. “She wasn’t part of a clan really, not since…” Sera swallowed. “We were moving around. Just the two of us.”

Judy didn’t interrupt. Just let her go on.

“A couple weeks back, some bad people showed up. Real chrome-heavy types. Said she owed them. She tried to talk, but they didn’t listen. Told me to run and… I did.”

Sera rubbed at her wrist. The bandana there looked older than the rest of her. Faded red, fraying at the edges.

“I waited. Thought she’d catch up. She always does.” A pause. “Did. She always did.”

She sniffed once, fast and quiet. “But nobody came.”

Judy’s breath left her slow.

Sera glanced up again. “I saw the van last night, out by the ridge road. Figured maybe if someone left it, I could… you know. Grab some food. Wasn’t trying to steal.”

Judy tilted her head, brow drawn in thought not suspicion, just the kind of weight she carried before deciding what came next.

“A couple weeks out here alone?” she asked.

Sera nodded.

Judy looked at her. “Have you been to Night City before?”

Sera shook her head. “Just near it. Mom said it was cursed. Said the desert kept secrets better.”

Judy gave the faintest huff at that. “She wasn’t wrong.”

They sat in silence again, the hum of the radio too low to carry words now, just static and the occasional pop. Sera finished the bar in quiet bites, her fingers still twitching like they hadn’t stopped running even if the rest of her had.

Judy rubbed the inside of her thumb, glanced back toward the cot.

Valerie was still sleeping.

She looked back to Sera. “All right,” she said. “You can stay. For now. But we’re moving soon.”

Sera looked up, surprised. “You’re not gonna make me go?”

Judy met her eyes. “Kid, you made it this far on your own. That says something. But you show even half a twitch toward bullshit or lying to me, I’ll drop you at the nearest outpost. Got it?”

Sera nodded quickly. “Yeah. Got it.”

Judy stood and grabbed a second protein bar, tossing it to her. “Eat that slow this time.”

Then, almost like an afterthought, she softened.

“And… I’m sorry about your mom.”

Sera blinked, like she wasn’t used to hearing it out loud. “Thanks,” she said after a second. “She’d have liked you.”

Judy arched an eyebrow but didn’t push the question. She stepped back toward the cot, her hand brushing briefly along the frame. Her wife was still out, but the light was changing again.

Phoenix wouldn’t wait, and neither would the kid.

Judy sat down slowly, the cot creaking beneath her. She rubbed her knee once, then turned slightly where she sat, resting an arm along the frame and looking back toward the girl, who now sat cross-legged a few feet away near the gear crates. The edge of sunlight caught on her red bob, messy and uneven, the freckles on her cheeks dulled by dust.

“So,” Judy said, voice even, “if you’ve never really been to Night City… how’d you know about me and Valerie?”

Sera took another bite of the bar, slower this time. Her knees were pulled in close to her chest, jacket bunched around her. She chewed with a little more care but still wolfed it faster than she probably meant to. A little groan escaped when she swallowed.

“Okay,” she muttered, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, “you got me. That might’ve been a half-lie.”

Judy didn’t move. Just watched, and waited.

Sera shifted where she sat on the concrete, glancing toward the wall like it might help explain something. “When Mom had jobs in the city, I’d sneak off. Ran around on my own. Nobody ever stopped me, not really. I used to hang near arcades, BD shops… even climbed a billboard once just to see the lights.”

She gave a small laugh. “You hear things that way. Everything, really, if you keep quiet and listen.”

Judy blinked slowly. Still watching.

“I heard stories about the Mercenary V,” Sera continued. “The one with the silver rocker boots and the killer bike. Some folks thought she was made up. Others said she saved the city. Or broke it. Depends who you ask.”

She looked down, brushing crumbs from her lap. “And you… well, your name’s on half the BD credits I ever saw. Mom saved up for this decent wreath, and she’d bring back BD chips when she could. Said if we couldn’t afford real schooling, at least I could learn something from the best editor in Night City.”

That one landed heavier than Judy expected. She glanced down for a second, her hand tightening slightly where it rested on her thigh.

“Most of my BDs weren’t exactly kid friendly,” she murmured.

Sera shrugged. “Didn’t care. I didn’t watch the gross ones. I liked the ones where you fixed stuff. The ones with old memories, broken pieces. I felt like maybe if I learned how you did it, I could fix things too.”

Silence stretched between them a moment. Not heavy, just… full.

Judy’s gaze flicked toward the cot. Valerie hadn’t stirred, still breathing soft beneath the blanket. The sunlight caught faint in her hair now, drifting along the edges of her cheek.

“As for Val,” Judy said finally, “yeah. People talked. Thought they knew her.”

She looked back at Sera, voice lower. “But they didn’t.”

Sera nodded a little, hugging her knees. Her voice softened. “I always figured she was the kind of person who saved people without needing anyone to clap for it.”

Judy’s eyes lingered on her for a second longer before returning to the cot.

“She is,” she whispered. “Even when it wrecks her.”

A gust of wind creaked through the outpost’s siding. The lantern flickered slightly. Outside, dust rolled past the cracks near the door, the world beyond still sun-bleached and quiet.

Inside, the air held steady between them. A little warmer now, and a little closer.

Valerie stirred with a low groan, one hand dragging up to rub her temples as her face twisted in a grimace. “Ugh… fucking nanites,” she muttered, voice raw with sleep. “Was having a wonderful dream about Judy…”

Judy, still half-leaned on the cot frame, snorted softly. “Well good morning to you too,” she said, tone light but unmistakably tired. “We got company.”

That earned a squint. Valerie blinked through the haze, eyes adjusting. Her fingers rubbed over her brow again before sliding down across her cheeks. She looked over at Judy first… and then past her.

Sera had shifted on the floor near the crates, her posture stiffening a little. Her arms wrapped tighter around her legs.

“Uh…” the girl said, offering a small wave, “Hi. I’m Sera.”

Valerie’s brow arched, and she winced trying to sit up on her elbows. The motion tugged at her side and she hissed under her breath, but her eyes didn’t leave the red-haired stranger on the floor. Her voice came slower this time, dry but edged with that familiar grit.

“Hey, Jude,” she said, tilting her head barely an inch. “Care to explain why a kid is here?”

Judy gave her a look the kind that came with too many hours without sleep and just enough patience to not shoot the question down outright.

“She was already in the van when I checked it this morning,” she said, reaching over to help adjust Valerie’s pillow behind her shoulders. “Wasn’t trying to start anything. Just hungry. Been on her own for a couple weeks.”

Valerie exhaled, her face softening just enough to show the flicker of something more than suspicion. Her gaze slid back to Sera, small, shoulders hunched inside that jacket, and for a beat, she just studied her.

Sera, for her part, didn’t flinch. “Didn’t mean to cause trouble,” she added quickly. “Just saw the van and thought maybe I could grab some food. Didn’t know it was yours.”

“Clearly,” Valerie said, letting her head fall back gently against the cot. Her voice lost the edge now, just weary sarcasm clinging to the tail end of her breath. “Jesus. First it’s Arasaka. Now we’re collecting strays.”

Judy reached for the water bottle on the crate, offering it out. “You’re welcome.”

Valerie cracked a faint grin as she took it, fingers brushing against Judy’s. “Didn’t say I minded.” She looked at Sera again, this time with less tension behind her eyes. “You got a name, you might as well keep it. Pull up some floor.”

Sera hesitated, then nodded once. Still didn’t smile, not yet, but she uncurled her legs a bit and shifted closer to the wall, the nerves in her shoulders easing just a touch.

Judy let out a slow breath and sat back down beside Valerie, hand resting on her knee again.

It wasn’t the morning they planned, but for now, it was theirs.

Valerie was still leaning back against the cot, the blanket still bunched loosely around her waist, breath rising slowly beneath the worn shirt Judy had helped her into the night before. Her voice was softer now, but steady.

“Takes a lot of grit, Sera,” she said, watching the girl across the room. “To survive out here on your own. I know all about that.”

Sera’s eyes sharpened at the words, the edges of her posture drawing straighter. “Are you okay, V?”

Valerie blinked once, slow. Her lips parted, and the faintest tug of weariness played along her mouth. “Call me Valerie,” she said. “Right now, I feel like half a ghost… and it’s a miracle my body’s still working at all.”

Sera didn’t look away. She pulled one knee up tighter against her chest, arms curling around it. “Because of what you did at Arasaka Tower?” she asked, the words careful, but not afraid just honest.

The air shifted.

Judy turned sharply, her jaw ticking as she sat up straighter. “She did what she had to,” she said, voice quiet but firm, “to come back to me.”

Sera blinked, caught off guard, but didn’t shrink from it. Her hands stayed knotted around her knee, the emerald in her eyes flicking between them both like she was trying to understand without prying.

Valerie reached over gently, her fingers brushing against Judy’s thigh. Her touch softened Judy’s edges almost instantly.

“It’s okay, Jude,” she murmured, thumb grazing the seam of Judy’s pants. She turned back to Sera. “Long story short, I had an Engram of Johnny Silverhand jammed inside my skull. Arasaka created it using a relic chip. It started eating away at my memories, my mind. Judy found a cure through NUSA, but Arasaka held the key to using it. They wouldn’t give it up. So I made them.”

She paused, breathing a little thinner now.

“Now I’ve got nanites trying to rebuild what got scrambled, and I can’t use any chrome. Every piece of cyberware just burns me out.”

Judy rubbed her hand gently, lacing their fingers. “You didn’t have to tell her, you know.”

“I know,” Valerie said, her voice barely above a hum. “But she asked.”

Sera gave a small smile. “Thanks for telling me anyway, Valerie.”

Valerie’s expression relaxed for the first time that morning, something in the corners of her mouth softening just enough to feel real. She let out a quiet chuckle, more air than voice.

“You kind of remind me of myself when I was twelve, Sera.”

Sera tilted her head, eyes brightening just a little. “Yeah? Was that before or after you were blowing up corporate towers?”

Valerie let her head roll toward Judy’s shoulder with a groan. “See what you started?”

Judy grinned, brushing a hand up into Valerie’s hair. “She’s got your mouth already.”

“God help us,” Valerie mumbled.

She didn’t stop smiling.

Judy stretched where she sat, her arms lifting above her head until her shoulders gave a quiet pop. She let out a breath through her nose, eyes flicking toward the far wall where sunlight was starting to crawl in steady across the concrete.

“We need to leave within the hour,” she muttered, more to herself than anyone else. “If we wanna make good time on the drive to Phoenix.”

Sera had been idly kicking her heel against the floor, but the words made her straighten a little. She tapped her toe once more, then paused, glancing between them. Her fingers twisted at the hem of her jacket. “Can I come with you?” she asked, the words tumbling a little too fast out of her mouth. “I mean…if it’s not too much…I can help, I swear.”

Judy blinked at her. “You really wanna ride with two fugitives on the run from a megacorp?” Her voice wasn’t cold, but it had that edge testing the intent, the truth.

Sera’s hands dropped to her sides. She shifted on her feet, chewing lightly at the inside of her cheek. “I just haven’t felt safe since my mom… since she got taken. I didn’t know where else to go. I saw the van, I figured maybe… maybe someone’d care.”

Valerie, who’d been sitting mostly still through the exchange, finally pushed herself upright. The motion wasn’t easy, but her spine straightened with quiet purpose as she looked toward Judy.

“What do you think, Jude?”

Judy exhaled slowly and leaned back until her shoulder rested against Valerie’s. Her voice dropped, soft and sure. “We can’t leave her out here. I can hear how she talks. She’s not lying about being alone.”

Sera looked between them, the silence hanging thick for a second like the whole room waited with her.

Then Valerie smiled. Tired, sure. But solid. “Nomads look out for each other,” she said, meeting Sera’s eyes. “That’s what we do. Think you can help Judy load the van? I’m not much use right now.”

Sera’s eyes lit up. “Yeah…yeah, I can help!”

She straightened her jacket, already moving, when Valerie called softly behind her, “Hey.”

Sera looked back.

Valerie reached out with a weak but warm smile. “Thanks for offering.”

Sera flushed and gave a tiny nod. Then she jogged over to the food box, grabbed another ration bar, and turned back toward the cot. “You’re probably hungry after waking up,” she said, holding it out.

Valerie took it with a small laugh. “You read my mind.”

Judy arched her brow. “What, I don’t get one?”

Sera rolled her eyes, grinning now, and went back to the crate to grab another. “Fine,” she muttered, but there was nothing but warmth in it. She walked it over and handed it to Judy with a little flourish. “VIP service.”

Judy smirked. “That’s more like it.”

Valerie leaned against the wall, chewing slowly, fingers resting against her bandages. “Well… at least you don’t have to drag my sorry ass around alone anymore.”

Judy looked back at her, eyes softening. “Was never dragging, babe.”

Sera snorted lightly but said nothing. Her smile lingered as she turned toward the van.

For the first time in weeks, maybe months the room didn’t feel quite so heavy.

Judy smiled faintly, fingers brushing along Valerie’s thigh before she stood again. “Think you can make it to the bathroom?”

Valerie blinked once, like the weight of the day was still coming into focus. Then she smirked, slow and dry. “If nothing else… you can catch me.”

Judy offered her hands, steady as always, and helped ease her up off the cot. Valerie swayed for half a second, reflexes not quite firing right, but she caught herself against Judy’s shoulder with a breath.

Sera had been crouched near the food crate again, sorting wrappers into one of the empty boxes. She turned, eyes scanning Valerie’s slow progress like she was trying to reconcile the stories she’d grown up on with the woman in front of her. A legend leaning on her wife just to walk ten feet.

She tilted her head, cracked a crooked grin. “Come on, Wobbles. You got this.”

Valerie barked a laugh, rough but genuine. “You get one,” she muttered, voice low and wry. “Just one.”

Judy smirked and kept her arm around her waist, guiding her across the cool floor as they made their way toward the bathroom. Valerie’s fingers tightened once against her ribs, but the rest of the walk came easier with Judy holding her close.

At the door, Judy glanced back toward Sera. “We’ll be a couple of minutes. Think you can load that black bag by the door? Grab the lamps and radio too.”

Sera gave her a thumbs-up, already on the move. “On it!”

Judy pushed the door open and helped Valerie ease inside. She turned toward the clothing trunk on the far wall before she followed, grabbing two pairs of fresh underwear, soft tank tops, and denim shorts from the neatly folded stack they’d salvaged from the Aldecaldo camp. Nothing flashy, just clean and worn-in.

She ducked into the bathroom after, the old lantern casting a warm halo across the cracked tile and peeling mirror. Valerie was sitting on the edge of the half-busted counter, one arm braced against the sink, her head tilted back as she tried to catch her breath.

Judy moved closer, crouching in front of her as she unlatched the bandage kit.

“Let me check ‘em first,” she said softly.

Valerie nodded, her fingers twitching at her sides as Judy lifted the shirt slowly, careful not to tug at the healing skin beneath. The gauze peeled away with only a bit of resistance. Still red, still angry, but no bleeding. No swelling either.

“You’re holding,” Judy murmured.

Valerie glanced down at her. “So are you.”

Judy didn’t answer, just leaned up, kissed her bare shoulder once, then reached for the new wrap. She re-dressed the wounds with practiced ease, then helped Valerie out of the old clothes and into the clean ones, hands gentle but sure as they moved. She didn't rush. Didn't fill the silence with talk either.

When Valerie was done, she rested a hand against the wall and whispered, “Your turn.”

Judy raised a brow. “You gonna supervise?”

Valerie cracked a smile and tilted her head back against the mirror. “You bet your ass I am.”

Judy rolled her eyes but stripped off her shirt anyway, tossing it in the corner with the other used gear. The tank top slid on easily, cool against her skin. Same with the shorts. She kept her socks, Valerie's favorite pair, gray with faded green stripes, and slipped them back on before turning around again.

Valerie looked like she might actually stay standing this time.

Judy brushed her knuckles under her chin. “C’mon,” she said. “Let’s go see what our newest crew member broke while we were in here.”

Judy looped her arm gently around Valerie’s waist again, steadying her through the slow shuffle back toward the cot. Valerie didn’t speak, just leaned her weight into the hold, each step still a little uneven but stronger than before.

Once she was lowered back onto the mattress, Judy crouched by the edge and grabbed their boots. Putting hers on first, tugged on with familiar ease, then handed Valerie’s over with a knowing little smirk.

Valerie rolled her emerald eyes but reached for them, pulling them on slowly, her fingers fumbling slightly on the laces until Judy leaned over and helped tighten them. A kiss came next slow and soft, shared across the short space between them. Valerie’s fingers curled against Judy’s wrist, holding her there just a second longer.

“Uh…sorry,” came a voice from the side.

They both turned to see Sera standing a little awkwardly in the doorway, a bag slung over her shoulder, her eyes flicking down to the ground.

Judy grinned, still close enough to Valerie to feel her breath against her cheek. “Nothing to worry about,” she said, standing up and brushing her palms against her shorts. She threw Valerie a wink. “We’re married, not subtle.”

Valerie let out a quiet laugh, leaning back against the wall behind the cot.

Judy turned toward Sera. “Alright. I’ll pack the boxes, and you carry what you can. Don’t forget the medical kit from the bathroom.”

Sera nodded quickly. “I won’t.”

With that, they got to work Judy kneeling beside the last crate, locking down the food packs and ammo first, while Sera darted back to grab the meds and load the smaller lanterns. The old outpost echoed faintly with the scrape of boots and rusted hinges, dust kicked up around their movements, but none of them stopped. The air had shifted something focused now, forward-moving.

Not long after, the last latch was secured, and the doors of the van clicked shut behind them. Everything was packed. They were ready.

Judy pulled the van onto the open road, tires humming against worn pavement as the dusty stretch between here and Phoenix started to unravel ahead of them. The sun had climbed high already, casting hard light across the dash. Heat shimmered off the road in rippling waves.

Valerie shifted in the seat beside her, one leg bent slightly as she glanced down. The denim of her shorts left the bruises exposed. Stitches lined her left thigh, and she ran her fingers lightly over them, careful, wincing just a little at the sore spot behind her calf.

She let out a breath, leaned forward, and popped the glove box. Her sunglasses clattered into her hand. The metal was warm from the sun. She slid them on, then eased back again into the seat, spine catching on every bump in the road like it had something to say.

From the rearview, she caught the motion first Sera, cross-legged in the open space near the back of the van, the soft rattle of gearboxes nudging around her as they hit a stretch of uneven road. She was rifling through the faded duffel Judy had found her with, pulling out a few worn-down sketch pads and a small soldering tool that looked like it had seen better days.

Valerie watched a moment longer before speaking, voice quiet beneath the hum of the wheels.

“Can you tell me more about yourself, Sera?”

The girl looked up, head tilting just slightly, red bob shifting with her. “Hmm… I like to build things,” she said after a second. “And draw. I’m not great or anything… but it helps.”

Valerie lifted a brow, the smallest grin tugging at the edge of her mouth. “An artist, huh? Might not look like it, but I play guitar.”

“She’s actually not too bad of a singer,” Judy said from the driver’s seat, a smile curling across her face as she adjusted one hand on the wheel.

Sera perked up, eyes bright with the same kind of curiosity that hadn’t dulled since they picked her up. “I wouldn't have imagined that. With the stories about how much of a badass you were.”

Valerie snorted softly. “Those stories might’ve been… exaggerated.”

Sera smirked, pulling a snack bar from the duffel and unwrapping it with one hand. “Even the one about how you took down Adam Smasher?”

The van rolled over a long dip in the road, jostling slightly. Judy adjusted her grip again, but didn’t interrupt.

Valerie leaned her head back against the seat, lips parting with a breath that carried more weight than the words that followed. “He was guarding Mikoshi. I was getting my ass handed to me. Thrown up against the wall, couldn’t breathe. Thought that was it.”

She paused, reaching over and resting her hand lightly on Judy’s knee.

“Then she steps beside him, calm as anything, says: ‘Put down my wife, motherfucker.’”

Judy made a small, protesting sound, but didn’t argue.

Valerie grinned faintly. “Then she shot him. Right in the side of the head. The most dangerous man in Night City flatlined because the most gorgeous woman pulled the trigger.”

Sera sat there, snack bar halfway to her mouth, jaw slack. “No fucking way.”

Judy glanced in the rearview. “Every damn word of it.”

“Okay, maybe I didn’t say that exact line,” she added, after a beat.

Valerie turned toward her, smirking still in place behind the sunglasses. “You did. I heard it. Even half-dying I knew it was the hottest thing I’d ever heard.”

Judy groaned under her breath and kept driving.

Sera just beamed, legs swinging lightly under her, the story sinking in with the kind of wide-eyed awe that didn't come from fiction.

The van rolled on toward Phoenix. Three people now. A little more laughter, and a little less weight behind the silence.

Valerie blinked behind her sunglasses, head tilting just enough to cast her voice toward the back without losing the dry edge in it.

“Hey, Sera… how’d you know about Adam Smasher? Didn’t think anyone but us and Arasaka knew that story.”

The back of the van shifted slightly as Sera jolted upright, then froze. Her legs uncrossed and recrossed. She rubbed the back of her neck, eyes dropping to her lap.

“Don’t hate me,” she said, voice small.

Judy glanced over her shoulder, brow lifting, just as Sera looked up guilt all over her face.

“Before you found me…” Sera started, drawing the words out like she was peeling off a bandage, “I kinda hacked your computer. The one in the van. I saw the profiles Arasaka had on you. They were still in the system. I didn’t steal anything, I just… wanted to know who you were.”

Judy’s eyes went wide. “You hacked my firewalls?”

There was a beat of silence before Sera’s grin returned, crooked and proud.

“My mom used to say I was a natural-born genius.”

Judy exhaled through a half-laugh, shaking her head. “Damn, kid. I’m impressed.”

Valerie cracked a smirk, still leaned against the seat, her fingers tapping absently along the side of her leg. “How does some kid randomly show up and possess both of our best qualities?”

Judy didn’t look away from the road, but her smile tugged just a little wider. “I think the universe might be trying to keep us humble.”

Sera beamed, finally sitting upright again. “Guess that makes me the backup plan if you two ever retire.”

Valerie snorted. “Retirement implies we had a plan in the first place.”

The van rumbled onward, heat rising in waves off the highway as the desert stretched wider around them. For a moment, it felt like the whole world had narrowed to just this: a busted road, a patched-up van, and a strange kind of family beginning to form.

Sera perked up, leaning forward just enough for her elbows to rest on her knees, curiosity bright in her voice. “How’d you two meet anyway?”

Judy tapped her fingers against the steering wheel, her thumb keeping a soft rhythm. “Started out as friends. Back in ’76. She was stubborn, reckless, cocky as hell… and I guess I liked that.”

Valerie chuckled faintly, sunglasses nudging down just a little on her nose as she glanced over. “It took some time. We got closer the more shit we went through. Heists. Break-ins. Getting shot at. Real bonding material.”

“A couple months back,” she went on, “she invited me out to this quiet little lake called Laguna Bend. The place meant something to her… and we just… let it happen. Let ourselves be honest for once.”

Judy glanced over, smile softening. “Before Mikoshi went down, I asked her to marry me. Didn’t know if she’d make it out, but I couldn’t picture anything past that day without her in it.”

Valerie’s head turned slightly, a quiet warmth in her voice. “And now here I am. Still breathing.”

Sera sat back, patting her hands lightly against her knees as if trying to process it all. “That’s… some serious devotion. Didn’t think that kind of love existed outside of BD’s.”

Judy snorted. “That’s ‘cause most BD’s are written by people who’ve never had their ass kicked by love.”

Valerie raised a brow. “Speak for yourself. You still have the cigarette scar from Laguna, don’t you?”

Judy smirked. “A small price to pay.”

Sera shook her head, grinning. “Alright, yeah… I think I believe in it now.”

The road hummed beneath the wheels, long stretches of cracked asphalt giving way to open desert, sun climbing higher as the day stretched into early afternoon. Heat shimmered off the edges of the horizon, but inside the van, the air held steady windows cracked, a faint breeze slipping through.

Valerie let her head rest back against the seat, fingers curled loosely in her lap. Her sunglasses hid most of her expression, but the curve of her mouth stayed relaxed, almost content. She turned just enough to glance at Sera again through the rearview.

“You’re not too bad, kid,” she said, voice low but genuine. “Got some guts, even if you’re still figuring it all out.”

Sera shrugged with a crooked little grin. “My mom used to say I ran more on instinct than brains, but... I try to pay attention.”

Judy’s voice came steady from the front. “Instinct gets you far out here. But paying attention? That’s how you make it back.”

Sera was quiet for a beat, legs crossed again, her hands idly toying with a pair of old fingerless gloves she’d pulled from her bag. “You think I’ll ever be like that? Like… good at something? Not just lucky?”

Valerie turned her head, studying her for a moment. “I think you already are. You hacked Judy’s system without getting caught. You’ve been surviving out here on your own. That’s not luck. That’s skill.”

“And grit,” Judy added, glancing into the mirror. “You’ve got that too.”

Sera blinked, then smiled small at first, like she wasn’t used to hearing it. “Thanks.”

Valerie gave a quiet nod. “Just remember, being good at something doesn’t mean going it alone. It took me a long time to learn that.”

Judy reached over and squeezed Valerie’s hand. “You’re still learning.”

Valerie snorted softly. “Yeah, well. You’re a good teacher.”

The van hit a small bump, rattling the shelves again, but no one flinched. The silence after felt easy to share. Outside, the desert opened up wider, and somewhere far ahead, Phoenix waited.

They had time. For the first time in days, maybe even longer, that finally felt like enough.

Chapter Text

The van veered gently off the cracked highway, tires bumping down a sloped dirt trail that twisted toward the low ridgeline. The sound changed with the terrain no longer the steady drone of asphalt, but the crunch of dry gravel, the occasional ping of loose pebbles caught in the undercarriage. Judy’s hands stayed relaxed on the wheel. She didn’t need the map. She knew the turnoff by feel.

Sera shifted in the back, eyes squinting out through the dust-lined window. “Is this the secret tunnel thing?”

Judy nodded once. “Aldecaldo route. Tucked under the cliffs just west of the old border checkpoint. Used to be a freight run back before Militech started sniffing around. Now it’s a ghost lane.”

Sera leaned forward a bit, one hand braced against the wall of the van. “I didn’t think tunnels like that were real. Thought they were just Nomad stories.”

“They’re real,” Valerie said, voice low from the passenger seat. Her sunglasses were still on, but her head turned toward the girl. “Not always safe. But real.”

Sera blinked. “So… you two are Aldecaldos?”

Judy cracked a smile. “We are now.”

Valerie shifted, careful not to jar her legs. “Wasn’t always. I used to ride with the Bakkers. Years back. My brother Vincent and I grew up in that family. Did everything together.”

Her voice softened, a little hollow at the edges. Judy glanced over but didn’t interrupt.

“Last year, we were out on a salvage run. Small gig, middle of nowhere. Should’ve been easy.” Valerie exhaled through her nose, lips tightening. “He didn't walk back from it. Vincent didn’t even get a grave.”

Sera watched her quietly, arms wrapped around her knees.

“Bakkers started getting desperate after that,” Valerie went on. “Talked about merging with Snake Nation. Said it was just a ‘strategic alliance.’ I didn’t buy it. I walked.”

Judy’s fingers drummed lightly on the wheel again, rhythm steady. “And found me.”

Valerie’s mouth twitched at the corner. “And her. Then Panam Palmer came crashing into our lives like a damn thunderstorm.”

“That’s the woman you mentioned before, right?” Sera asked. “The Aldecaldo leader?”

“One of the best,” Valerie said. “She helped us track down Anders Hellman, the corpo who helped design the Relic. Judy and I were out of options. Panam pulled every favor she had to get us a lead.”

Sera tilted her head. “Why?”

“Because I asked,” Valerie said. “And because that’s who she is. Fierce as hell, stubborn as a cliffside. But if she calls you family, she means it.”

“We started doing more runs with them,” Judy added, her tone easing into something warmer. “Helping with their ops. Building trust.”

“Then one night,” Valerie said, “they pulled us aside. Said the clan had voted. Asked if we wanted in.”

Sera sat with that a moment, legs swinging slightly as she looked out the window again. The sun had shifted, the light bouncing hot off the ridge ahead. Faint outlines of the tunnel entrance were just visible now a rusted freight door tucked into the rocks, half-concealed by scrub and shadow.

She spoke without turning around. “I never had anything like that. My mom… she was all I had. Never stayed anywhere long enough to join a crew. Never knew if we were Nomads or just... running.”

Judy’s voice stayed gentle. “Doesn’t always matter what you were, Sera. What matters is what you build next.”

Valerie reached back, hand resting lightly on the seat edge beside her. “You’re with us now. That means something.”

Sera looked at them first at Valerie, then at Judy. Her mouth curved into something quiet. Not quite a smile. Not quite a frown.

“Think I’d like that,” she said.

The van rolled toward the tunnel mouth, dust curling in its wake. No checkpoint. No sirens. Just the road, and the two women who hadn’t turned her away.

For the first time in a long while, maybe ever Sera didn’t feel like she was just passing through.

The van’s headlights caught the edge of the freight tunnel just as the shadow swallowed them whole. The road dipped beneath the overhang of stone and rusted steel, silence settling thick as they passed inside. The last traces of sun flickered off the rearview, then disappeared.

Sera leaned forward, bracing her elbows on the console between them. Her fingers tapped quietly, eyes flicking from the road ahead to the side panels, then back toward Judy.

“What’s it mean, being an Aldecaldo?” she asked. “Like… really mean. What’s it like living in one of those camps?”

Judy kept one hand steady on the wheel, her other resting loosely near the dash. The van’s interior hummed with the low echo of their engine against tunnel walls just enough to muffle the silence, not enough to break it.

“It means someone always has your back,” Judy said after a second. “Even when you screw up. Even when you don’t deserve it.”

Valerie shifted in her seat, adjusting the line of her sunglasses now that the sun was gone. “Means you’re never really alone,” she said softly. “Not at dinner. Not when you’re broke. Not when you lose someone.”

“Camp life’s not fancy,” Judy added. “Lots of tents, rusted solar rigs, makeshift wiring. You wake up to engines or someone yelling over a burned breakfast. Kids running between rigs. Sometimes a fight over fuel. Sometimes a party over nothing.”

Valerie let out a quiet breath, her voice trailing with something fond. “But it feels alive.”

Sera nodded slowly, her voice quieter now. “Sounds… loud. But a good kind of loud.”

Judy glanced over at her. “It’s messy. People don’t always agree. But it’s real. Panam makes sure everyone pulls their weight. No freeloaders, no corps breathing down your neck. Just your people.”

“And your rig,” Valerie added. “That’s your identity out there. Your truck, your gear. You keep it running, you take care of it like it’s part of you.”

Sera smiled faintly. “Guess I’ve always been a little jealous of people who had stuff like that. Like a clan. A place.”

“You’ve got a place now,” Judy said, her tone even, but certain. “Might not look like much yet. But it’s real.”

Valerie looked back at her through the mirror again, her voice low. “You want to learn the Nomad way, kid? You just took your first step.”

Sera didn’t answer right away. She just leaned her cheek against her forearm, still resting on the console, her emerald eyes watching the faint lights flicker along the upper piping of the tunnel. She looked young again, at that moment. Not just scrappy or clever, just a twelve-year-old trying to understand what family meant.

This time, she didn’t say she was sorry. Didn’t ask to prove anything.

She just sat with them, and listened, as the tunnel carried them forward.

Valerie’s boot bumped gently against the dash as the van dipped over a worn track in the tunnel floor, shelves rattling again in soft percussion. The steel walls curved close around them, throwing back the low purr of the engine in steady rhythm. Somewhere up ahead, sunlight teased at the tunnel’s mouth, warm, narrow, and waiting.

Sera shifted where she leaned, chin propped on her folded arms now, voice lifting with curiosity. “So… is this van your rig?”

Judy snorted, eyes flicking toward Valerie with a half-grin. “Technically? No. This thing’s more of a backup rescue shuttle.”

Valerie exhaled a short laugh. “Yeah, our actual rig’s much different. This one was what we could patch together fast after Mikoshi.”

“It was Panam’s idea,” Judy added. “Said we needed something low-profile to get clear while things settled. Looks like scrap. Drives like it too.”

Sera glanced around the interior patched shelving, frayed seats, cooling unit zip-tied into place in the corner. “Still feels kinda homey, though.”

Valerie turned her head just enough to look back at her. “That’s what makes it count. Not how it runs, how it carries you.”

Judy eased the wheel as the tunnel curved gently, a shaft of light breaking through from the far end. “Someday we’ll show you the real rig. Clean lines, reinforced frame, solar grille across the top.”

“Full interior cabin,” Valerie added, a quiet fondness in her voice now. “Custom cushions. Guitar hooks. Even has a name.”

Sera blinked. “You named it?”

Valerie gave a soft smirk. “Sure did. The Racer.”

Judy laughed under her breath. “I still think it sounds like a knockoff soda.”

Sera grinned. “Okay, yeah… that’s kinda perfect.”

The light ahead grew sharper now, cutting gold across the tunnel floor as the van rolled forward. Outside, Arizona waited for dust, heat, road, and something new. For now, the van carried them just fine. Bruised, patched, alive.

Maybe that was enough for a rig.

The tunnel gave way to open sky, sun flaring against the windshield as they emerged into the dry sprawl beyond. The road ahead was nothing but sun-bleached dirt curling down into low canyon valleys, pale cliffs hugging the horizon. Heat shimmered off the ground, but the van held steady, humming along in its own patched-up rhythm.

Valerie adjusted her sunglasses, squinting toward the flat trail ahead. “The Racer should already be with the Clan in Arizona,” she said, voice low but certain. “We asked Vanessa and Jessica to drive it down. Just in case.”

Sera tilted her head, bracing a hand on the back of the passenger seat. “Why didn’t you leave with the Aldecaldos?”

Judy’s hands stayed steady on the wheel, but her voice carried something quieter beneath it. “Val was unconscious. After Mikoshi, I didn’t want to move her far. She was still touch and go. Panam couldn’t afford to wait around. Militech was sniffing the wreckage. There was no time.”

Valerie shifted, her hand resting along the window’s edge as the sunlight kissed her knuckles. “Even before that… we hadn’t decided yet. I grew up a Nomad. Knew what that life meant. Wasn’t gonna drag her into it.”

She turned her head slightly, gaze soft behind the tint of her lenses. “But Judy didn’t need convincing. She just looked at me one morning and said ‘Home’s wherever you are. I don’t care where we live.’”

Judy’s mouth curved with a quiet smile. “Still true.”

Sera’s voice was softer now, the wind nudging through the cracked windows and tugging gently at the ends of her red bob. “That’s how I felt with my mom,” she said. “It didn't matter what town, tent, or junker van. If she was there, I was okay.”

Valerie looked at her shoulders, too small for everything she’d carried, her eyes still bright despite it.

She nodded once, slow. “Then you already know more than most grown-ups ever figure out.”

Valerie glanced sideways, the curve of her mouth softening as she adjusted her sunglasses with two fingers. "Did your mom teach you any of the trades? Fixing rigs, salvaging, tuning up burners?"

Sera’s voice carried forward with a quiet hum of pride. “Some. She wasn’t a mechanic, but she could hold her own. Mostly taught me to keep moving, never let anyone tell you you don’t belong.”

Judy gave a small nod, one hand relaxed on the wheel, her elbow angled out the open window. “Sounds like someone we would’ve liked.”

“She made mistakes,” Sera murmured, tucking her foot under the opposite knee, eyes out the side window. “Did some dangerous runs to keep us fed. But she always looked out for me.”

The road dipped slightly. Judy shifted gears with a smooth pull, the van groaning through the incline before leveling again.

“Are you still carrying her things?” Valerie asked gently.

Sera nodded. “Yeah. The solder tool was hers. Some of the parts in my bag too.” She hesitated, then added, “I kept the jacket. Even if it’s too big.”

Valerie smiled faintly. “Never too big if it's a memory.”

They let that settle for a while. The hum of the wheels filled the quiet spaces, a few birds circling distant cliffs under the wide blue sky.

Then Sera leaned forward again, resting her chin briefly on her folded arms over the front seat. “What’s it feel like? Being part of something bigger like a clan, I mean. I never really had that.”

Valerie looked ahead, watching the horizon for a beat before answering. “It’s not always easy. You butt heads, sometimes too many voices pulling in different directions. But it’s family. Not just the ones you’re born with, the ones who show up and stay. You don’t have to be perfect. You just gotta show up.”

Judy gave a small chuckle. “And be willing to carry fifty-pound crates in the sun.”

Sera grinned. “Guess I’m halfway there.”

“You’re further than you think,” Valerie said, her tone quieter now. She reached over, brushing her fingers over the back of Judy’s hand. “Family starts like this. Just choosing the road together.”

The van rolled on, deeper into the fading day. The cliffs behind them grew smaller, the way ahead wide open.

Dust kicked faint behind the tires as the van dipped onto another uneven stretch, the suspension giving a soft groan but holding. Sunlight filtered in through the windows, casting long bands of warmth across the dashboard. Outside, the terrain rolled wide and dry scrub brush scattered between rocky outcrops and the distant shimmer of sand-bleached ridges. No road signs. No mile markers. Just the ghost of a path beaten down by old tires and time.

Judy rested one arm out the window, fingers catching the wind as they passed, a faint breeze threading warm across her knuckles. Her voice came easy, eyes flicking briefly to the mirror where Sera sat curled cross-legged in the back.

“I know all you see is Badlands right now,” she said, lips curling in a tired smile, “but for the next few miles? We’re driving through three states at the same time.”

Sera blinked. “Wait seriously?”

Valerie laughed under her breath, her head resting against the window, sunglasses slipping a little down her nose. “Little trick of geography. A lot of Nomads use these border trails when they don’t want to be counted.”

Judy nodded. “California, Nevada, and Arizona all meet up right around this basin. No real border lines out here, not unless you bring a map and a magnifying glass.”

Sera pressed her face closer to the cracked window, trying to glimpse something that might hint at it. “Feels the same.”

“Always does out here,” Judy said, glancing back with a grin. “Sometimes the rules only matter to the people drawing them.”

Valerie shifted a little, the ache in her ribs sparking just faint under the weight of the seatbelt. She turned toward Sera, voice softer now. “You’re in Arizona before dinner. Bet it’s not how you pictured it.”

Sera shrugged with a grin. “Honestly? I didn’t picture any of this.”

Judy gave a low laugh. “Welcome to being a nomad, kid.”

The sun dipped a little lower, casting gold across the windshield. The only sound for a while was the low whine of the tires chewing at dust, the occasional rattle of something shifting on the shelves. Ahead, the dirt road curved gently down through a canyon bend, and beyond it, the slow sprawl south toward something like a new beginning.

The tires bumped into a patch of loose gravel as the road sloped again, shallow dust clouds curling around the wheels. Heat shimmered off the cracked basin in the distance, but a faint breeze had started pushing in from the southeast warm, dry, carrying the faint scent of creosote and scorched earth.

Sera leaned forward between the front seats again, elbows hooked casually on the console. “So… what kind of city is Phoenix anyway?”

Valerie shifted where she sat, her voice low and steady under the hum of the van. “A lot like Night City, just… flipped. Badlands still wrap around it like barbed wire, but inside? Nomads run the place. No corporate towers, no neon ads buzzing over every street corner. It’s a trading city Clan territory. You’ll see Bakkers, Snake Nation, even some Wraiths, but the Aldecaldos? They built a foothold. Strong one.”

Sera’s head tilted, emerald eyes squinting slightly. “So Night City without the law?”

Valerie let out a dry laugh. “Sure is. Except in Phoenix, the law has a name and usually carries a shotgun.”

She was about to say more, to give her the real picture of how some corners of Phoenix still smelled like burning oil and others like promise but her words stalled mid-breath.

Then her hand jerked suddenly against her thigh.

Her spine stiffened with a snap, shoulder crashing back into the seat. A sharp breath hissed through her teeth, and then she was screaming raw, guttural, like something behind her eyes had been torn open. Her legs locked. Fingers seized tight against the seatbelt.

“Fuck!” Judy slammed on the brakes, the van screeching slightly as it ground to a dusty halt along the shoulder of the unmarked road.

Blood trickled from Valerie’s left nostril, stark red against her cheek. Her body trembled violently, face contorted. The nanites, those invisible bastard things working to rebuild her, had flared again. Harder this time.

Sera’s voice came out pitched. “What’s happening?! Is she…?”

“Hey, hey look at me,” Judy said, turning fast and catching Sera’s shoulder, her own voice urgent but calm. “She’s having a neural spike. It’s the damn nanites fixing her brain, alright? This happens sometimes. I need you to help.”

Sera’s eyes were wide, face pale, but she nodded fast.

“First aid kit passenger side. Grab the red pills, thin ones, and a bottle of water. A cloth, too. You got it?”

Sera pushed toward the back with shaking hands, scrambling toward the kit tucked under the supply crates. Judy turned back to Valerie, one hand already unbuckling the belt, her other cupping Valerie’s jaw as gently as she could manage.

“I’ve got you,” she whispered, even though Valerie couldn’t hear it through the pain. “Just hold on, baby. I’ve got you.”

The wind outside scraped dry across the side of the van, the world narrowing down to heat, dust, and the woman shaking in her arms.

Sera’s boots scraped against the van floor as she moved faster than Judy expected from someone that small flipped open the med box with a sharp metallic clatter. She rummaged, hands darting past gauze and injectors until her fingers closed around the thin red pill sleeve. “Got it!” she called, voice still shaking.

Judy didn’t look up. “Good. Water and cloth next.”

Sera grabbed a rag from the folded pile near the gear crates, cracked the water bottle open with her teeth like she’d done it a hundred times, and slid back toward the front.

Valerie was still spasming, her jaw clenched tight as another jolt hit her, this one harder her back arched, a choked noise pressing from her throat before she slammed back down into the seat. Her glasses had fallen crooked, one lens flecked with blood from her nose. Her breathing was shallow, scattered.

Judy took the pills and leaned in, coaxing Valerie’s mouth open with her thumb. “C’mon, babe, with me. Just a little more.”

The pill slid past her teeth and Judy brought the water to her lips, tipping it slowly until Valerie’s throat worked and swallowed. The twitching didn’t stop right away, but it eased. Enough for Judy to catch her. She brought the cloth to Valerie’s nose, wiping gently, holding her close as the tremors dulled into full-body trembles.

Sera sat stiff beside her, eyes locked on Valerie like the whole van might collapse. “Is she gonna be okay?” Her voice cracked on the last word.

Judy didn’t answer right away. She just pressed her forehead gently to Valerie’s temple, whispering something low, then looked back at Sera. “Yeah,” she said, firm but quiet. “This happens sometimes. She pulls through.”

The seconds dragged on. Wind pushed dust across the windshield in long, ghosted streaks. Valerie blinked slowly, dazed, and let out a hoarse breath, one hand weakly reaching toward Judy’s knee.

“Fuck,” Valerie rasped. “That one felt like a cannon to the skull.”

Judy brushed a lock of hair from her face. “You’re okay. You’re safe.”

Valerie turned her head slightly, emerald eyes half-lidded. “Did I scare the kid?”

Sera gave an awkward shrug, her voice dry. “Kinda. But... you’re still a badass.”

Valerie gave a tiny huff might’ve been a laugh if she had more strength. “Guess I’ll take that.”

Judy kept her close a while longer, her thumb stroking lightly over Valerie’s wrist. The pills were fast-acting, but they still needed a few minutes to stabilize the surge. She glanced up, past the cracked windshield, at the hazy stretch of desert rolling out ahead of them.

“We’re gonna keep going soon,” she said, mostly to herself. “But no more hard miles. Not today.”

Sera gave a small nod, settling cross-legged on the floor again, this time closer like she understood something now she hadn’t before.

Valerie leaned her head back and shut her eyes, chest rising in shallow breaths. Judy held her hand the whole time. Neither of them said anything else for a while.

Just the wind and the warmth and the slow, steady rhythm of desert stillness around them.

The road stretched on in shimmering waves, the van rattling faintly over uneven dirt. A few miles had passed since Judy pulled back onto the unmarked trail, the tension from earlier faded into a gentler rhythm. Valerie had fallen asleep again, head tilted toward the window, her breath steadier now, lashes casting a faint shadow across her cheek. The pain meds had pulled her under fast, and Judy hadn’t let go of her hand until the tremors stopped completely.

Sera sat in the back, knees pulled to her chest, hugging them tight like she wasn’t even sure she meant to. The light from the overhead sun cut through the rear window in warm strips, casting soft gold against the weathered floor and the edges of her boots. She’d been quiet for a while. Thoughtful.

“How long’s she gonna have to deal with that?” Her voice wasn’t loud, but it cut through the silence just enough.

Judy kept one hand on the wheel, the other draped out the open window, fingers tapping against the outside frame. She didn’t answer right away. Just took in the horizon ahead, the soft jagged edge of mountains too far south to name.

“Her body’ll bounce back in the next couple days. Once I can take those stitches out, she’ll be able to move easier. Eat more. Walk without grinding her teeth.”

She glanced up in the rearview, catching Sera’s reflection, those emerald eyes too still, too old for her age.

“But the rest of it? The nanites, the chip, the damage from Johnny’s Engram…” Judy sighed. “That’s different. What it did to her brain, no medtech’s ever seen before. Sometimes when she has those attacks, it means something’s breaking down again. But most of the time, it’s her brain trying to fix itself. Patching neural pathways, repairing the spots Arasaka left behind.”

Sera’s fingers twitched where they clutched her knees. Her voice came quieter this time, like she wasn’t sure it was meant to be heard. “I just don’t want to lose another mom.”

The van stayed silent for a beat. Dust kicked up outside, scattering sideways with the wind. A faint tremble passed through Judy’s hand still resting on the wheel. She shifted, glanced again in the mirror.

She saw it. Not just the words, but the way Sera looked at them. How she'd moved closer without thinking. How she'd stopped calling Valerie “V.” The way she’d offered that ration bar like it was the most natural thing in the world. Like she was already protecting something.

Judy blinked once, then let out a slow breath. “You see us that way already?”

Sera didn’t answer at first. She just nodded. Barely. Chin against her knees.

“I didn’t mean to,” she mumbled. “I just feel… safer here.”

Judy didn’t smile, not fully, but her eyes softened. She reached across and gently adjusted Valerie’s fallen sunglasses, brushing a stray red strand of hair from her temple.

“She’d never admit it, but you’re already helping her more than you know.”

From the back, Sera whispered, “I hope so.”

For the next few miles, they didn’t say anything else. Just rode quiet through the no man’s land where three states blurred together, the desert wide and waiting ahead of them.

The hours leaned heavy in the stillness, the van rumbling forward over fractured earth and sunbaked gravel. The sky outside stretched pale and wide, that washed-out blue you only ever saw slicing across the badlands. Somewhere behind them, California was bleeding out into the desert. Nevada no longer mattered. Arizona waited, heat-shimmered and red-veined on the horizon.

Inside, the air was quieter now. Not tense, just settled. Valerie hadn’t stirred once since her last attack. She lay half-curled against the seat, face turned slightly toward the door, lashes twitching faint in whatever haze the nanites had left her in. Judy kept checking. The rise and fall of her chest. The slight twitch in her fingers. Still breathing. Still here.

Sera sat further back, hunched against the side of the van, legs folded up beside her. A sketchpad was balanced across her thighs, the spine worn to the cardboard and the edges of the pages curling in on themselves. She was working fast, pencil whispering softly over the page with little flicks and jabs, pausing only to brush hair from her eyes or glance out the window for a reference point. The corners of her mouth were pulled in tight focus concentration that made her look even younger and older at the same time.

Judy’s hands stayed steady on the wheel, eyes scanning the dips in the road, the distant outline of powerline husks and cinderblock ruins half-swallowed by sand. Still, her thoughts kept turning back to what Sera had said. I just don’t want to lose another mom. That voice still sat at the base of her ribs. Not a cry. Just the quiet truth.

She blinked once, then glanced up into the rearview mirror.

Sera’s head was bent over her sketchpad, but her hand never slowed.

Judy gave the faintest smile, low and dry. “What kind of stuff do you like to draw?”

Sera didn’t look up right away. She was finishing something: a stroke, a line, the curve of whatever image had caught her.

“People. Mostly,” she said softly. “Faces, hands… sometimes places. Like ones I don’t wanna forget.”

Judy nodded, one hand sliding off the wheel to adjust the side mirror before returning. “You sketch your mom a lot?”

Sera nodded once, the motion small. “Yeah. And machines too. I like figuring out how stuff fits together. Like if I can understand it enough, maybe I can fix it. Or make it better.”

Judy glanced at the sleeping woman beside her, then back toward the mirror again. “That’s not a bad way to see the world.”

Sera turned the page slowly. A few old doodles curled at the edges, some smeared, some half-erased. She hesitated, then angled the pad slightly so Judy could see just enough.

A soft-lined sketch of Valerie lay across the middle of the page, half-finished but unmistakable. Her head tilted slightly, eyes shut, like the way she’d looked asleep not long ago. A few careful details: a freckle near her brow, the slope of her neck, even the edge of the faded stitches traced with the lightest hand.

Sera didn’t say anything.

Judy’s chest tightened, but her voice stayed even. “You’re damn good, kid.”

Sera shrugged, brushing a thumb over the corner of the page. “Just wanna remember her like this. In case.”

The road hummed beneath them, and for a moment, Judy didn’t speak. Just let the silence carry. Let the dust roll by and the tires eat the miles.

Her hand reached down, without thinking, resting gently over Valerie’s, and she gave it a squeeze, soft but certain. Just to say: She’s still here. We all are.

Sera didn’t say anything after that, not right away. The pencil stayed in her hand, but she let it rest against the paper, not drawing. Just breathing.

The sun had shifted again, light sliding in through the slits of the rear windows and warming the worn-out cushions. Valerie hadn’t moved, but her hand twitched faintly under Judy’s palm, a slow involuntary gesture like her body was answering something from far off. Judy didn’t let go.

Sera finally leaned her head back against the side of the van. “When you first found me,” she said quietly, “I wasn’t sure what was gonna happen. Thought maybe you’d make me leave. Or just drive off and not look back.”

Judy glanced at her in the rearview, her eyes soft. “You were scared.”

“Still kinda am,” Sera admitted. Her voice cracked slightly, like she hadn’t meant to say it out loud. “I’ve been alone so long I don’t even know what to do when I’m not.”

Judy exhaled slowly. “Yeah,” she said, voice low. “I remember that feeling.”

Sera blinked up at her. “You do?”

Judy kept her eyes on the road. “After Laguna Bend… I didn’t know where I belonged anymore. Everyone I’d known was either gone or part of a life I couldn’t go back to. Valerie was the only thing that still felt real. I didn’t have to think twice.”

She reached over, adjusted the mirror again so she could see Valerie’s face.

“She’s the reason I kept going.”

Sera tucked her knees closer to her chest, arms wrapped loosely around them. The sketchpad slipped to the floor, face-down, the drawing left open but out of sight now.

“You think I’ll ever find something like that?” she asked, not quite hopeful, not quite hopeless.

Judy didn’t answer right away. The road was narrowing again, dust swirling off the ridges on either side, and far ahead, the faint shimmer of heat waves hinted at something larger waiting beyond the ridges, maybe the outskirts of Phoenix, still just a shadow of promise.

She reached back with one hand, knuckles grazing Valerie’s knee before pointing briefly toward the front of the van.

“Kid, you already did,” Judy said. “You found us. Might’ve just been looking for food, or a ride. But you stuck. You stayed. That’s not nothing.”

Sera was quiet again. She wiped her sleeve across one eye like she was trying to brush off dust.

Valerie stirred beside Judy, murmured something unintelligible under her breath, then slipped back into stillness. The rise and fall of her chest stayed steady.

Judy let her eyes linger a moment longer before shifting back to the road. “We’re almost there,” she murmured.

The van kept rolling forward, engine humming low, and the light outside changed again deeper now, more gold than white. The kind of light that meant day was slipping, but it wasn’t gone yet. Neither were they.

The road curved low beneath the tire ruts, dust lifting in slow spirals as the heat shimmered off the ridge ahead. Valerie stirred again, her hand shifting unconsciously in her lap, but she didn’t wake. Judy reached down and lightly brushed her pinky across Valerie’s wrist before easing her hand back to the wheel.

Sera had crawled forward from the back, knees pressed into the space between the seats. Her chin rested against the edge of the console as the skyline finally rose up in the distance, Phoenix, blurred in the heat, jagged spires of prefab steel and satellite clusters climbing from the hazed-out horizon.

She stared for a beat, eyes wide.

“That's it?” she asked. “That’s the city?”

Judy smiled faintly, not looking away from the road. “That’s it. But don’t get too excited yet. We’ll hit the city later. Right now, we’ve got a stop to make.”

Sera turned her head, glancing at Judy’s profile. “The Aldecaldos?”

“Mhm,” Judy nodded. “They’re set up just past the ridge. Panam said she’d drop a marker at the old truck stop used to be a station before the Collapse. Still got the rusted fuel sign if it hasn’t fallen down.”

The highway fell away as they veered onto a narrow dirt cut-through, the van lurching slightly over uneven terrain. Judy slowed down, eyes scanning the brush and distant dips in the terrain.

Sera kept watching the skyline until it dipped behind the ridge again, then slowly shifted her weight back, legs tucked underneath her on the bench seat. Her hands fidgeted, tugging at one of the old loose threads on her sleeve.

Judy gave her a quick side glance. “Are you nervous?”

Sera hesitated. “A little.”

Judy didn’t press. The tires crunched over a patch of gravel as she spotted the rusted truck stop sign just past a tilted cactus, half-covered by wildbrush. She eased the van down a shallow decline, the camp finally coming into view tents arranged around the wide clearing, solar racks gleaming in the sun, a few bikes and rigs lined up at the outer edge.

“Don’t worry about impressing anyone,” Judy said as they crept closer. “They’ve all been the outsider at least once. Most of ‘em more than once.”

Sera nodded slowly, her fingers tightening into a small knot in her lap. “Okay,” she said, almost to herself.

Judy reached over, giving her shoulder a brief squeeze. “You’ll be fine, kid. Nomads don’t bite.”

“Not unless you steal their power cells,” came a sleepy murmur from beside her.

Valerie’s eyes fluttered open just enough to catch the edge of Sera’s anxious look. She gave a half-lazy smirk. “Trust me, they’re more bark than bite. Especially if you bring snacks.”

Judy let out a low laugh and guided the van down the last slope toward camp, dust curling behind them in slow, sunlit plumes. Phoenix still loomed in the distance, but for now, the ridge held quiet.

The kind that let something new begin.

The van crawled to a halt just outside the ring of vehicles and solar panels. The engine ticked in the quiet like it was cooling off faster than they were. The smell of dust and dry brush pushed in through the cracked windows, mingling with faint heat off the hood. Judy killed the engine, hand lingering on the key a second longer than needed.

Sera didn’t move right away. She was still half-curled between the seats, eyes wide but guarded as she took in the spread of tents, the solar rigs, the haphazard mix of beat-up motorcycles and long-haulers scattered in careful formation like someone had arranged them by instinct more than design.

Valerie sat up slower, blinking blearily behind her sunglasses. Her voice was hoarse, barely more than a whisper. “Smells like home.”

Judy cracked the door open and stepped out, boots sinking into the loose-packed dirt. She gave the camp a once-over with no weapons drawn, no rushing guards, just the low hum of afternoon chores. Someone was running cables from a rig to a generator, a few others tightening panels to catch the last few hours of sun.

“They’ll be glad to see you,” Judy said over her shoulder. “Panam might throw a wrench at your head first, but that’s just her way of saying she missed you.”

Valerie snorted gently and pushed the door open on her side. “Guess I’ll brace for affection.”

Sera clambered out after them, her boots hitting the ground with more weight than she expected. She hesitated beside the van, arms tightening across her waist as her emerald eyes swept the camp again. A few Nomads looked up just a glance, but enough to clock her presence.

Judy rounded the front of the van and stepped beside her, tilting her head. “Are you still nervous?”

Sera bit the inside of her cheek. “Yeah… kinda.”

Judy reached over and adjusted the strap on Sera’s shoulder, brushing a bit of dust from her sleeve like it might help. “You’re not here to prove anything. Just be honest. That’s all they care about.”

A low, familiar voice carried from across the clearing gravelly, tight, unmistakable.

“Well, look who the cat dragged in.”

Panam stood near one of the rigs, arms crossed, sunglasses perched in her tangled braid. Her expression wasn’t angry, but it wasn’t soft either. That kind of look that said you better explain everything, but I’m glad you’re alive.

Judy raised a hand in half-wave, her grin pulling sideways. “Hey, Panam. Miss me?”

Panam rolled her eyes but was already walking toward them. “I missed the days when you two didn’t bring chaos in your back pocket.”

Valerie leaned against the van, steadying herself with one hand on the mirror. “Wouldn’t be us otherwise.”

Panam’s gaze shifted just for a second to Sera, then back to Valerie.

“Friend of yours?” she asked carefully.

Sera straightened a little, chin rising on instinct. “Name’s Sera.”

Valerie nodded once. “She’s with us.”

Panam didn’t question it. She just gave a short nod, like that was all she needed.

Judy leaned down, bumping her shoulder gently to Sera’s. “Told you. One step in and you’re part of something.”

From the way the others in the camp started to nod back, silent greetings passed in glances and subtle shifts, it was already beginning. Not fast, loud, but real.

The sun beat down warm overhead, the city still distant behind the hills, but here… they weren’t fugitives.

The sun hung lower now, bleeding gold across the edges of the camp as the wind picked up enough to flutter loose tarp corners and whisper between the rigs. There was movement everywhere, someone hauling water, another tuning a dusty radio at the back of a flatbed, but none of it rushed. Just the kind of rhythm that said we’ve done this before. The kind of rhythm you could breathe in if you let yourself.

Sera lingered close to Judy, eyes flicking from tent to tent, rig to rig, drinking in the unfamiliar like it might vanish if she blinked. Her fingers tightened around the strap of her bag. The corners of her mouth twitched, like she couldn’t decide whether to smile or brace herself.

Valerie shifted beside the van, still keeping weight off her left leg, sunglasses pushed up into her hair now. Her voice came soft, almost warm as she tilted her head toward Sera. “Kinda reminds me of the old Bakker runs.”

Sera blinked up at her. “Is this what your camp looked like?”

Valerie breathed through her nose, slow. “Ours was meaner. Scarce, more fights. Less music. But yeah solar rigs, grease-stained blankets, and a whole lot of pretending the world out there didn’t matter.”

Judy moved to stand on Valerie’s other side, brushing fingers over hers as she did. “And now?”

Valerie looked toward the horizon. Phoenix glimmered faint in the distance. “Now it’s got something worth staying for.”

They stood there for a beat, the three of them, quiet in the slow thrum of a camp that hadn't yet pulled them fully in. Until…

“Val!” came a shout, somewhere from the side of the repair trucks.

Jessica.

Brown hair pulled high in a scarf, her arms smeared with what looked like battery fluid and ash, striding fast in boots footsteps heavy. Vanessa trailed a few steps behind her, red hair catching the sun, expression calm but unmistakably locked on Valerie like she was checking for damage before even reaching them.

Jessica reached first, flinging her arms out like she might punch Valerie and hug her all at once.

“You idiot,” she breathed, pulling her into a fierce, uneven embrace. “You ghost on me again, I swear I’ll bury your guitar in the dirt.”

Valerie laughed, breath catching as she returned it with one arm, the other still trembling slightly. “Love you too, Jess.”

Vanessa slowed as she reached them, eyes glancing once over Judy, then landing on Sera. Her voice was lower. Steady. “You two pick up strays now?”

Sera blinked. “Um…”

Valerie gestured toward her gently. “Vanessa, Jessica this is Sera. She’s… with us.”

Jessica tilted her head, gave Sera a quick up-and-down. “Kid got a name like a BD lead.”

Sera cracked a smile. “Mom picked it. Said it sounded like a star.”

Jessica’s brow lifted. “Yeah, alright. We’ll see how you hold up in sandstorms.”

Judy grinned faintly. “Better than most.”

Vanessa gave a nod. “Then she’s welcome.”

That was it. No long speeches. No formal words. Just that.

Panam’s voice came from across the camp, calling something to a couple of Nomads unloading gear, and the rhythm resumed around them, breathing, stretching, settling in as the sun kept sinking. But something had shifted. One rig heavier, three shadows deeper, one name spoken like it belonged.

Judy brushed her fingers along Valerie’s elbow. “C’mon. Let’s get you somewhere to sit before you fall over.”

Valerie exhaled, low. “I’m not that bad.”

“Yet,” Judy muttered with a half-smile, already turning toward the tents.

As they started walking, Sera a step behind them with her bag bouncing against her back, her eyes never leaving the camp. Not in fear. Not anymore.

Just watching. Taking it in.

Learning how it all might one day be hers too.

The light had gone softer by the time they reached the far edge of camp, warm orange streaks catching on the old tarps that marked Valerie and Judy’s temporary tent. Not much to look at two poles pitched into packed dirt, canvas patched over and weighed down by heavy tool crates, but it stood firm, held together by effort and a kind of quiet intention.

Sera slowed as they neared, her eyes drifting past the tent to the vehicle parked beside it.

The rig.

Big, sturdy, built like it had eaten storms for breakfast and still asked for seconds. The chrome edge of the front bumper caught the light in a dull shimmer, and the solar panel bolted to the roof hummed low from recent use. Faded decals along the side were half-covered in dust, but the lines still held a red streak across matte black, the faint ghost of the Aldecaldo crest near the rear.

“That's yours?” Sera asked, voice small, like she was afraid to sound too impressed.

Valerie glanced over, one hand bracing against Judy’s shoulder as they stepped toward the tent. Her face softened when she saw it. “Yeah. Our girl. Been with us longer than most people.”

“Vanessa and Jessica drove her out here,” Judy added, setting down the duffel she’d slung over her shoulder. “Didn’t want to risk driving while Val was still healing. Kinda figured we’d end up here, even if we didn’t know it yet.”

Sera stepped closer to the rig, fingers brushing the edge of the door without opening it. “It’s got weld scars.”

“Three shootouts, one sandstorm, and a pissed-off Maelstrom convoy that didn’t take ‘no’ very well,” Valerie said with a low laugh. “She earned every dent.”

Judy ducked inside the tent to unroll the bedding, the zipper rasping faintly. “Everything's self-contained. Pantry, med unit, net access when we can ping a signal. Enough for two people to live in it for a month, longer if you know how to stretch rations.”

Sera took a slow step back, eyes still lingering on the rig. “I always wanted something like that. A real ride. Me and Mom used to imagine rebuilding one together.”

Valerie moved to the folding chair outside the tent, easing herself down with a slow breath. “Stick around long enough, we’ll teach you everything we know. Might even let you drive when I don’t feel like having a heart attack.”

Sera grinned faintly, rocking back on her heels. “I’m not that bad, you know.”

Valerie raised an eyebrow, the corner of her mouth tugging upward. “Kid, you’re twelve.”

Sera gave a small huff, chin tilting up in mock offense. “Twelve and a half,” she corrected, her voice just firm enough to make it a point, but not enough to lose the humor behind it.

Valerie leaned back in the chair, a quiet breath escaping her like it almost wanted to be a laugh. “Well, that half better come with a learner’s permit.”

Valerie raised an eyebrow, but the smile tugging at the corner of her mouth said she was more amused than anything. Judy emerged again, brushing dust off her hands, and settled beside Valerie, her eyes briefly meeting hers before flicking to Sera.

“C’mon,” Judy said, patting the empty cooler beside her. “We’ll rest up a bit, then I’ll walk you around camp. Show you where the clean water is. Introduce you to some of the crew.”

Sera hesitated only a moment before nodding and sitting down. The rig loomed beside them, quiet now, but steady like a promise waiting in steel and engine grease.

For the first time in days, maybe longer, Sera didn’t feel like she had to keep her bag in arm’s reach. She just… sat.

The light filtered deeper orange now, low and thick, settling across the dust like it meant to stay awhile. Cicadas had started up somewhere out past the tents, their buzz steady, carried on a warm, lazy breeze. Sera sat on the edge of the cooler beside Judy, elbows on her knees, quiet for a while as the camp moved around them, people talking low, tools clinking, tires rolling past somewhere near the trailers. Life, lived and patched together one piece at a time.

Valerie let her head rest back against the canvas of the folding chair, eyes half-lidded behind her scratched lenses. She looked better than this morning, less pale, the tension in her hands mostly eased, but Judy kept one arm slung behind her just in case. Neither of them said much about it.

“So,” Sera said eventually, her voice threading into the space between them like she wasn’t sure if it belonged, “what’s it feel like? You know… actually having a home like this?”

Judy glanced over. “You mean the tent?”

Sera shook her head. “No, I mean… this. The camp. The people. Everyone knows each other.”

Valerie stirred just enough to pull her sunglasses down a notch, her eyes visible now in the golden light. “It takes some getting used to. Especially if you grew up not trusting anybody.”

Sera's foot tapped against the packed dirt, just once. “Yeah.”

“It ain’t perfect,” Judy added. “But it’s real. That’s more than you get in most places.”

Sera didn’t answer at first. She looked out toward the ridgeline where the horizon broke into scattered solar towers and low scrap-metal fences. Her red hair caught a streak of light as she shifted. “When my mom and I were driving… before she got taken… she always said we’d find somewhere to stop. Said there were places that still made room for people like us. I didn’t really believe her.”

Valerie leaned forward, her hands braced on her knees. “Is that why you stayed out there? After?”

Sera shrugged, but it didn’t hide the way her shoulders tensed. “Didn’t know where else to go. I thought if I stayed long enough, someone might come back.”

Silence settled between them again, not awkward, just heavy, the kind that didn’t need to be filled.

“You know,” Valerie said after a beat, “you don’t have to figure it all out right away. It took me years. And a lot of wreckage.”

Judy gave her a soft glance. “Still does.”

Valerie let out a breath that was almost a laugh. “Still does.”

Sera nodded slowly. “It just feels weird. Being here. Like I’m not supposed to let it feel okay.”

Judy looked over at her, eyes steady, voice low. “It’s okay to let it feel okay.”

For once, Sera didn’t try to argue.

A dry gust swept in off the dirt flats, rattling the canvas flaps of their tent and brushing warm against their skin. In the distance, the camp dogs barked twice, then fell silent again. Somewhere across the lot, a small generator kicked on with a faint hum.

For just a while, they let the quiet be enough.

The sun had fallen lower behind the hills, casting long streaks of amber across the edge of camp, its light softening the dirt into gold. The rig beside them caught the last of it, chrome dusted with the day’s wear, humming faintly as it cooled. Sera stayed seated on the cooler, hands tucked under her thighs, her legs gently swinging forward and back like she was trying to move time without pushing it too hard.

Valerie exhaled slowly and looked over at her, one freckled hand rising to brush a loose strand of hair back behind her ear.

“I was eight,” she said quietly, “when I lost my parents. Vance and Vera. Back with the Bakkers.”

Judy’s head tilted just slightly, not interrupting, just listening.

“Vincent was four years older than me. Suddenly, it was just him and me. He had to raise a kid while grieving the same people. Camp didn’t feel like home after that it felt like a place we were stuck in.” Valerie’s fingers idly traced the top of her boot, her eyes not focused on anything ahead of her.

“Vincent… he tried, really tried. Took care of me best he could. But as I got older, I didn’t want to just survive, I wanted to be something else. A merc like our parents, maybe even better. Get away, carve something different.”

She shifted, brushing the edge of her tank top away from her shoulder. The lotus ink caught the last edge of light clean lines, soft purples and greens curled into bold strokes over her skin.

“Got these on my twenty-first,” she said, touching the petals with her thumb. “Lotus flowers… They mean rebirth. I felt like that’s what I needed. Maybe I still do. I always feel like I’m becoming someone else, little by little.”

Sera’s gaze never left her.

“Already told you… in ’76, I lost Vincent. It was a run gone bad. And I walked from the Bakkers after that. Couldn’t follow the Snake Nation path they were sliding toward. That was the last time I looked back.”

Judy leaned forward, one arm draped loosely over her knees, her eyes soft but steady.

Valerie glanced toward her, lips curving gently. “That’s when everything really changed. Becoming friends with this firecracker… finding someone who stood beside me when I didn’t even know if I could still stand at all.”

Judy rolled her eyes, but her fingers reached over and found Valerie’s, brushing knuckles. “You’re the one who didn’t flinch, even when the world tried to put you down a dozen times.”

Valerie held her hand tighter for a second before turning back to Sera.

“I don’t regret the path I chose. Not even now, bruised and aching and half-broken. I’ve got the woman I love, and I’ve got a kid in front of me who… looks up to me, for some reason, even with all this mess stitched inside.”

Sera blinked, and her eyes dropped for a beat, chin pressing into her knees as a quiet warmth crept across her face. When she looked back up, her voice was soft.

“You’re not a mess. You’re… kinda amazing.”

Valerie let out a quiet breath that was halfway to a laugh, shaking her head.

“You’re easily impressed, kid.”

Sera smirked, but didn’t argue.

For a while, they just sat there. A quiet triangle of warmth between a beat-up rig, a weathered tent, and an open sky, all of them carrying different kinds of weight, but, somehow, lighter when held together.

Judy looked between them Valerie lounging back in the folding chair, Sera still perched on the edge of the cooler, and stretched her arms behind her with a soft sigh.

“I’ll ask Panam for another cot,” she said, voice light, eyes on Sera now. “We’ll make space so you can stay with us. And probably oughta unload the van before it gets dark. Set up our new home and all.”

Valerie caught her hand as she turned to stand. The grip wasn’t tight, just enough to pause her. She brought Judy’s knuckles to her lips and pressed a kiss there, warmth flickering in her smile. “I need to move anyway. Might be limping, but I can handle the lighter stuff. Just let me try.”

Judy gave her a look, half fond, half skeptical. “Only if you promise not to drop anything on your damn foot.”

“No promises,” Valerie murmured, already easing herself up from the chair.

Sera stood too, brushing the back of her hands against her pants. “So… I can put my bag inside?” Her voice had a tentative edge, like she wasn’t quite sure if it was really her space yet.

Judy nodded without hesitation, a soft grin tugging at her. “Of course you can, Sera. Make yourself at home.”

That did it. The faint tension in the kid’s shoulders gave way to something smaller, maybe quieter. She grabbed her worn duffel and ducked into the tent, just slow enough to take it in.

Valerie stretched once she was upright, breathing through the ache that still settled around her ribs and hips. Her steps were uneven but steady, limping just enough to make it clear she’d earned the right to complain though she didn’t.

They were halfway through moving the boxes from the back of the van when two familiar silhouettes came into view, boots crunching over loose gravel.

Jessica was all long limbs and quiet confidence, her long brown hair tied back and sun-kissed along the edges. She offered a crooked grin, hands already moving to help lift one of the heavier crates.

Vanessa followed close, her sharp yellow eyes flicking over the setup with quiet efficiency, red hair swept back beneath a lightweight hood. She gave Judy a nod, then tossed Valerie a wink.

“Didn’t think you’d let us have all the fun,” Jessica said, nudging her shoulder against Sera’s as she passed with a box in her arms.

“Not a chance,” Judy muttered, pulling down the camp stove with a familiar rhythm.

Together, they made fast work of it. Tool crates stacked neatly near the back of the tent, water jugs set along the cooler, food stashed in labeled bins. The folding cots were adjusted, laid out with linens Judy had packed herself, and by the time the last light of day touched the edges of the hills, their little corner of the world had taken shape.

Not much. A canvas shelter, a beat-up rig, a few chairs under string lights rigged along a line of poles. But it breathed like a home. Not because of what it was made of, but because of who stood inside it. A firecracker, a broken-hearted survivor, and a kid with grease under her nails and more grit than most would ever see coming.

A Clan that accepted them, and a family, slowly stitching itself together between old scars and new soil.

Sera sat cross-legged on her cot, elbows on her knees, sketchpad still balanced but untouched in her lap. The light inside the tent was a golden blur from the end of the sunset, filtering through the worn seams of the canvas and catching on the dust in the air. She looked around slowly, taking it in the duffel by her feet, the little folded towel Valerie had offered her for a pillow, the faint scent of engine grease still clinging to Judy’s jacket tossed near the rig outside. A strange mix of calm and unreal. Like if she blinked too long, it might vanish.

Valerie sat leaned against a crate at the edge of her cot, one arm braced behind her for balance, the other resting along Judy’s thigh. Judy sat close beside her, fingers still absently checking the pressure dressing just below her ribs. Both of them quiet, not because there was nothing to say, but because this was one of those rare silences that actually felt earned.

Across the tent flap, Vanessa and Jessica stood near the entrance, half in shadow, half haloed by the glow of the camp lanterns strung between poles outside. They didn’t speak right away. Just waited nearby.

Then Vanessa shifted, voice low but clear. “Mess tent’s got chili and bread tonight. Still warm.”

Valerie let out a slow breath through her nose, eyes flicking up with a wry grin. “Chili when it’s ninety degrees out here?” she muttered, tone dry. “Still… we haven’t eaten properly in three days. Even longer for the kid.”

Jessica tilted her head toward Sera with an easy smile. “We’ll make sure you get a second helping, then.”

Sera lit up, grin pulling fast and wide. “Thanks.”

Judy turned her attention to her, gaze softening. “You okay to walk with them?” she asked gently. “We’ll be right behind you just need to check Val’s bandages real quick.”

Sera nodded without hesitation, already pushing to her feet. “Yeah, I’m good.”

Jessica held the tent flap open for her, and Sera stepped out into the warm dusk light between them, the hum of generators and scattered laughter drifting in from the mess hall across camp.

Inside, the tent felt briefly still again. Just Valerie and Judy, the steady sound of breath between them, and the faint rustle of canvas against a mild desert breeze.

Valerie let her head tip toward Judy, voice low. “Think she’s settling in?”

Judy glanced toward the flap, then back. “I think she’s starting to feel safe.”

Valerie smiled, small and tired. “Good. That’s all I wanted.”

The water sloshed gently as Judy filled the shallow bucket, the plastic creaking under the weight. She set it beside the cot, dipping a clean cloth in and wringing it out with one practiced twist. The tent had gone quieter now, shadows stretching long across the ground as the last rays of sunlight filtered through a thin slit in the canvas. Outside, faint voices drifted from the mess tent Vanessa’s laugh, a few chairs dragging over the packed earth.

Valerie exhaled slowly and peeled her tank top off, careful with her side. The cloth stuck a little to old dried sweat and the edge of a fading bruise, but she didn’t complain. Just braced herself on one arm and gave Judy a look somewhere between weary and ready.

Judy knelt beside her, pressing the damp cloth to Valerie’s temple first, then gently down across her cheekbone. The water was cool. Not cold, just enough to cut through the heat. She worked in slow, soft strokes, drawing little arcs over the bridge of Valerie’s nose, along the curve of her jaw.

“There’s something you should know, mi amor,” she said quietly, rinsing the cloth again before running it across Valerie’s collarbone. “When you passed out in the van… from the neural spike… Sera said she didn’t want to lose another Mom.”

Valerie blinked, breath catching faintly. “We just met her. And she already sees us like that?”

Judy nodded, still cleaning, her voice gentler now. “The poor girl only knew her mother. That’s it. Then she finds two strangers willing to give her another life. What else is she supposed to think?”

Valerie’s fingers moved to the wrap around her midsection. Carefully, she began to undo the bandage, slow and deliberate, revealing skin that was already beginning to knit together beneath the bruising. The worst of it had gone yellow and pale blue, the angry red around the stitches finally softening.

“I never pictured I’d live,” Valerie said, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “Let alone be a mom, Jude.”

Judy uncapped the ointment and dipped two fingers in, warming it slightly between her hands. “I was always so caught up in everything going wrong,” she murmured, beginning to work the salve gently into Valerie’s side, “I never thought about it either.”

Valerie winced a little, jaw tightening for just a second. Then she breathed through it.

“I see so much of myself in her,” she whispered. “I think I finally get how Vincent must’ve felt. Thrust into raising me before he even had time to grieve. It was always moving too fast… he didn’t know how to be anything but there. But he was. Because I needed him.”

She looked down, hand ghosting over the bruises on her leg. “Maybe I was meant to live so this girl could have a life.”

Judy looked up at her, dark brown eyes soft but clear. “Then we should let her know it’s okay. That she doesn’t have to feel ashamed for seeing us that way.”

Valerie nodded slowly.

Judy rinsed her hands, then cleaned them off with the cloth before reaching for the fresh tank top she’d pulled earlier. “Arms up,” she said gently.

Valerie lifted them, and Judy slid the tank down over her, adjusting it as it settled against her frame. Then she leaned in and kissed her soft, unhurried, lingering just enough to feel the warmth in it.

When she pulled back, she smiled. “Let’s go eat.”

Valerie smirked as she pushed herself upright. “After you, Mama Jude.”

Judy barked a laugh, already reaching for the tent flap. “I don’t know if I’m ever gonna get used to that.”

Valerie grinned, still easing to her feet with care. “Guess you’ll just have to try.”

The sun had just dipped past the ridge, casting long golden shadows across the camp. The canvas tents glowed faint orange at their edges, and the air held the baked-salt smell of desert cooling down after a long heat. Valerie and Judy moved slowly, shoulders close, weaving their way past crates and solar panels as a few Aldecaldos tipped their heads or offered brief nods. One or two gave a half-salute, the casual kind that said: We know who you are. We’re glad you’re here.

Inside the mess tent, the air shifted warm, packed with the scent of simmering chili and the faint tang of oilcloth. The lights above buzzed faintly, yellow and softened through old plastic sheeting.

Sera sat near the middle of a long folding table, knees drawn together under the bench, spoon clutched in one hand as she hunched over a half-finished bowl. Her red hair had fallen across her cheek, but the smile that broke through when she looked up was impossible to miss even with her mouth full.

Vanessa and Jessica sat across from her, their postures relaxed but watchful, heads tilted toward the kid as if making sure she didn’t feel alone in the middle of so many strangers. It was easy. Natural. Like they’d already carved out a little space for her.

Valerie and Judy stepped closer. Sera’s grin widened, emerald eyes lighting up above the edge of her bowl as they slid onto the bench beside her. She tried to say something chili still in her mouth then gave up with a muffled sound and a sheepish shrug.

Vanessa smirked, rising with an exaggerated stretch. “I’ll grab you two bowls before the bottom gets scraped clean.”

Jessica was already halfway across the tent, waving over her shoulder. “And bread. Don’t let me forget the bread.”

Judy chuckled, elbow lightly brushing against Sera’s as she looked over. “So… how’s the chili?”

Sera just gave a contented thumbs-up, mouth still working through the next bite like nothing in the world could convince her to pause long enough to answer properly.

Valerie laughed low in her throat, one hand sliding to rest over her thigh where the old bruises still throbbed faintly. “Guess that’s a good sign.”

Judy leaned in just a bit, brushing hair behind Valerie’s ear, then settled back to wait as Vanessa and Jessica returned with two steaming bowls and thick slices of bread stacked on a tin plate between them.

Vanessa placed hers in front of Judy with a little wink. “Let us know if you need anything else.”

Jessica did the same for Valerie, her voice soft. “Water jugs are near the back if you’re thirsty.”

They both slipped back toward their seats after that, giving the trio space but still close enough to keep an eye out.

They ate in easy silence for a while. The kind that said it didn’t have to be filled. Chili thick and smoky, bread soft in the center with just enough crust. A comfort meal if there ever was one. Outside, the wind tugged gently on the flap of the tent. It smelled faintly like cooling dust and sagebrush.

Sera had just stuffed a bite of bread into her cheek, both hands cupped around the bowl now, her whole frame slackening into that post-full-body-warmth haze when Valerie shifted, setting her spoon down.

She turned to Sera, voice soft but steady. “Me and Judy talked…”

Judy looked over, fingers resting lightly against Valerie’s leg under the table.

Valerie’s gaze stayed on Sera. “We wanted to let you know it’s okay. If you see us that way. As moms. You don’t have to keep it quiet.”

Her tone didn’t push. Didn’t assume. Just left the words there like an open hand offered, not asked for.

The tent seemed a little quieter for a moment, the hum of conversation around them slipping slightly into the background. Sera blinked, eyes searching their faces. Her cheeks puffed a little as she finished chewing the bread, but her posture had gone still.

That pause, that flicker of held breath it felt like something more than just dinner.

Sera didn’t answer right away. She swallowed the last of her bread, eyes drifting down to the spoon in her bowl. Her fingers traced the rim, slow, absent. Outside, a breeze pushed through the open flap again, brushing dust against the canvas in a soft whisper. The lantern above flickered just slightly in its casing.

When she finally spoke, her voice was small not weak, but careful. “I think… I already do.”

She looked up, glancing between them, then fixed her eyes on Valerie. “I didn’t mean to say it out loud when it happened. Just kinda slipped. But it wasn’t a lie.”

Valerie’s chest tightened. She felt it deep and aching in a good way, like something raw being recognized. She reached out, laying her hand over Sera’s on the table. Not squeezing. Just there.

Judy let out a slow breath and leaned her shoulder gently against Valerie’s, her hand resting warm on the girl’s back. “You don’t ever have to apologize for that, Sera.”

Sera gave a small nod, her eyes shiny but no tears falling. “I used to tell myself I didn’t need anyone else. That it’d hurt less that way. But I think… I think I was just tired of trying to be brave all the time.”

Valerie gave a faint, crooked smile. “Trust me, being brave doesn’t mean doing it alone. Took me too damn long to figure that out.”

Judy chuckled under her breath. “Some of us had to learn it the hard way.”

A quiet laugh bubbled up from Sera then, soft but real. “Guess I’m learning from the pros, huh?”

“You could do worse,” Valerie said, squeezing her hand once before letting go. “You’ve got a hell of a start, kid.”

“Kid?” Sera smirked. “You’re the one who can barely bend over without making a sound.”

Valerie gave a mock glare, but her lips were already tugging into a grin. “And you’re the one sleeping in our tent now. Careful, I assign dish duty real quick.”

Sera held her spoon like a mic, voice dropping into exaggerated drama. “Whatever it takes, Mom.”

Judy laughed, full and sudden, her head dropping against Valerie’s shoulder as it spilled out. Valerie groaned through a smile, leaning back on the bench, gaze lifting to the tent ceiling as if trying to hide her amusement from the universe.

Outside, the night had settled in for good, bringing a cooler stillness with it. Somewhere a generator hummed low, and someone plucked at an old guitar near the far end of camp.

Inside the mess tent, beneath aging tarps and hanging lights, three lives edged a little closer together.

This time, nobody needed to say anything more.

Valerie looked over at Sera, her voice softer now. “You said your mom gave you a name that sounded like a star?”

Sera nodded, her lips curving up as she rested her chin on her palm. “Yeah. She told me that when I was born, it felt like a star breaking through the night sky.”

Valerie leaned forward just a little, brushing aside the bangs feathered across Sera’s forehead. “Then how about we stop with ‘kid,’ and I call you Starshine instead?”

Sera blinked, eyes flicking between the two women. Something passed over her face, surprise first, then something warmer. “I… kinda like it.”

Judy smiled at her from across the table, her voice gentle. “Hope you know what you signed up for, mi cielo. You haven’t even seen Valerie’s stubborn streak yet.”

Sera turned with a lopsided smirk. “We’re in trouble, aren’t we, Mama?”

The word hung there for a second just long enough to land.

Judy’s mouth parted, the smile still there but quieter now. Her gaze softened so deep it almost shined. That one word Mama settled something in her chest she didn’t know had still been waiting to.

Valerie barked a short laugh, breaking the hush. “Being stubborn’s part of my charm.”

She tilted her head dramatically, fluttering her eyes at Judy in exaggerated innocence.

Judy snorted. “You’re impossible. Lucky you’re cute.”

Sera rolled her emerald eyes, but couldn’t hide her grin. “You two better not start making out. Some of us are still eating.”

That cracked both of them up light and easy. No weight. No hiding.

Just three voices weaving themselves into the same rhythm.

Judy leaned back on the bench, letting her knee bump lightly against Valerie’s under the table. “No promises,” she muttered with a smile.

Valerie raised an eyebrow, slow and amused. “You hear that, Starshine? She’s already making threats.”

Sera kicked her legs under the table, playful, almost bashful now. “Guess I’ll have to learn how to tune you two out.”

“Smart girl,” Judy said, reaching for the last chunk of bread and tossing it toward Sera’s plate. “The first rule of survival around here is to know when the flirting starts and where the exit is.”

Sera caught the bread clumsily with both hands, laughing around the edges. “You make it sound like it’s dangerous.”

Valerie grinned, elbow on the table, her bruised knuckles curling beneath her chin. “Oh, it is. I almost died of cardiac arrest the first time she smiled at me like that.”

“You mean this smile?” Judy flashed it on cue sharp, angled, completely aware of what she was doing.

Sera groaned. “Okay seriously. How are you both alive with this much flirting? My mom would’ve short-circuited.”

Judy’s smirk faded just a little, eyes softening again. “Sounds like she raised you with a good heart.”

Sera didn’t speak right away. Just nodded, her fingers brushing crumbs off the table, gaze drifting for a second like she was remembering something too big to say out loud. The laughter lingered, but quieter now, stitched into something deeper.

Valerie reached across the table and set her hand over Sera’s for a moment just a simple weight, not asking anything. “She’d be proud of you.”

Sera looked up, eyes glassy but steady. “I think… I think she would too.”

They didn’t rush the next moment. The mess hall buzzed with quiet voices and clinking dishes, dust catching in the warm light that slipped through the canvas seams. Outside, the desert shifted toward evening air cooling, sky bleeding out into rust and violet.

Sera picked at the last of her bread, dragging it through the chili bowl like she was trying to make the meal last just a little longer. Her shoulders weren’t hunched the way they had been earlier in the day. Something had let go. Even her boots were a little scuffed from where she’d kicked them together under the table, restless, but not ready to run.

Valerie finished her water and leaned back, letting the tension ride out of her spine. The heat outside was still pressing, but inside the mess tent it had cooled some. Breeze slipping through the gaps near the floor, and someone had cracked the side flaps just enough to let the fading light spill in.

“I think I could get used to this,” Valerie murmured, mostly to herself, then looked between the two of them. “Dinner with family. Real food. Nobody is trying to shoot us.”

Judy nudged her knee under the table. “Don’t jinx it.”

Sera grinned and leaned forward on her elbows again. “This place… it’s not what I expected. I mean, I thought Nomads were all shouting and revving engines and throwing bottles.”

Valerie lifted a brow. “Some are.”

Judy smirked. “Just wait til you fully meet Panam.”

Sera blinked. “She didn't seem that bad.”

Valerie waved it off with a soft laugh. “Long story. Good heart. No indoor voice.”

Sera smiled, then let her gaze wander across the tent again. “Still feels weird. Being somewhere people actually talk to you. Don’t just tell you to leave.”

Judy’s voice softened. “That’s not how it’ll be here. You’ll see.”

Sera looked at her, something quiet flickering behind her eyes. “Yeah. I’m starting to believe that.”

Valerie watched her for a second, then nudged her bowl forward. “Still hungry, Starshine?”

Sera blinked, then shook her head. “No… just not in a rush to get up.”

“Good,” Judy said, stretching her arms out above her. “Let’s sit here another minute. Let the world keep spinning without us.”

No one argued, and for a little while, they just sat like three bowls scraped clean, sun bleeding low across the desert beyond the flaps, and something real settling into the dust between their boots. A beginning that didn’t need ceremony. Just time.

The last glow of sunset bent low over the camp, catching on chrome and canvas as Valerie tapped Sera lightly on the shoulder. “We’re in charge of our cleanup. Everyone does their part.”

Sera blinked like she’d forgotten the meal had even ended, then gave a sheepish nod and reached for her bowl.

Judy was already halfway standing, dishes in hand. “After we clean up, how about I show you where the shower truck’s parked?”

That lit Sera right up. “I haven’t had a shower in so long,” she beamed, eyes wide.

Valerie crossed her arms, careful not to press too tightly against the fresh bandages beneath her shirt. “You two are lucky. I still can’t shower until these damn stitches come out.”

Judy bumped her gently at the hip, mindful but still playful. “Less pouty, more cleaning.”

Valerie let out a dramatic groan and pushed herself to stand, wincing as her left leg flared with a sharp reminder. “Guess after we clean up, I can check in with Panam. Maybe she’s got clothes Sera can borrow.”

Sera smirked as she gathered the silverware. “I hope so. I only have three sets, and I think one of them’s starting to gain sentience.”

Judy snorted. “Guess our first order of business as moms is getting you a wardrobe that doesn’t threaten to crawl away at night.”

Valerie picked up her bowl and took a shaky step, muttering under her breath with mock determination. “Feet don’t fail me now.”

They moved together to the back of the mess tent, the chatter of other campers fading behind them. The wash station was little more than a long metal basin rigged up with patched piping, water running in spurts when coaxed the right way. Valerie leaned into it with a hand braced on the edge while Judy started scrubbing. Sera dried dishes with a worn towel, each cleaned plate stacked neatly into the crate beside her.

They didn’t say much during the task. Just the sounds of water and metal, the scrape of bowls, Sera’s soft hum under her breath as she tried to keep pace. It wasn’t glamorous, but it felt real. Something shared.

As they stepped out, dusk settling across the camp, Jessica caught sight of them and lifted a hand. Her expression softened as she approached.

“Everything good?” she asked, her gaze shifting between them.

Judy nodded. “Yeah. I’m taking Sera to the shower truck. Valerie was going to check with Panam about clothes.”

Before Valerie could chime in, Vanessa appeared at Jessica’s side, already reading the situation. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll talk to Panam, see what we can find. You head back to the tent. I'll send her your way once I’ve got something.”

Valerie gave a tired smile. “Appreciate it. I’ll owe you one.”

“You owe me a dozen,” Vanessa said lightly, then winked at Sera. “You’re in good hands.”

They parted at the edge of the main path, the quiet buzz of camp life rising around them as night settled in full. Valerie moved slower now, favoring her leg, but Judy and Sera flanked her without saying a word, just easing the rhythm of their walk to match hers.

Their little tent came into view again, lit from the inside now with the faint flicker of a backup lantern. Somewhere nearby, a radio played soft static and fragments of a guitar.

For a moment, it was just the three of them again, their shapes outlined in the glow of the camp. A few shared footsteps between bowls, beds, and whatever the next day would bring.

Inside the tent, the air still held onto some of the warmth from the day, thick with the faint scent of dust, canvas, and whatever detergent the Aldecaldos used on the bedding. Valerie eased herself down onto their cot with a quiet grunt, hand automatically going to her leg as she exhaled. The lantern's light flickered faintly across her freckles and caught the pale edges of her healing bruises.

Judy gave her a quick glance, just to make sure she was steady, then turned toward Sera. “C’mon, Starshine. Shower truck’s this way.”

Sera hesitated at the flap, looking back at Valerie like she wasn’t sure if she should leave yet.

Valerie gave her a tired smile, the kind that didn’t need much energy to mean something. “Go ahead. I’ll still be here when you get back.”

That earned a small, almost bashful nod. Sera followed Judy out into the night, boots crunching against gravel as they cut across the lantern-lit pathways of camp. The voices around them had mellowed people laughing near the fire pit, a few muffled conversations by the supply trailers. Nothing sharp. No tension. Just the slow wind-down of another desert day.

Back in the tent, Valerie leaned her head back against the folded hoodie they were using as a pillow. Her eyes traced the seams of the canvas above her, where someone had patched a tear with duct tape and an old bit of denim. She smiled to herself, not at the roof, but at the quiet settling in her chest.

The rig was parked just outside. The girl was safe. Judy was humming softly as she walked, barely loud enough to carry. And for the first time in too many days to count, Valerie felt like she wasn’t clawing her way forward anymore. She could rest just a little.

Somewhere behind her eyes, the hum of nanites stirred, dull and slow like a distant engine. Not gone, but not screaming either. Just working.

Beyond the flap, her family was walking through the night. Not a bad start.

The tent was quiet except for the occasional snap of canvas tugged by the breeze outside. Valerie lay stretched across the cot, one arm folded behind her head, the other draped across her stomach. Her eyes weren’t really focused on anything just fixed on a seam above her, where the fabric curved toward the center pole. She could hear the low murmur of voices in the camp, the mechanical purr of the generator a few trailers down, and the soft hum of the solar battery warming on the rig outside.

Every so often, her leg gave a dull pulse where the stitches held tight. Not pain exactly, just a reminder.

She let her mind drift. The feel of Sera's shoulders loosening at dinner. Judy’s hands, careful and steady, bandaging her ribs. The sound of Sera laughing over chili. The weight of it all sat in her chest, but not like a burden. More like a fire banked low, still burning.

The tent flap rustled, and boots crunched the dirt just outside.

Valerie turned her head just enough to see Panam step in, a canvas bag slung over her shoulder. She wore the same don’t-fuck-with-me scowl she always did when something was gnawing at her, but there was a flicker of relief in her eyes.

“Got some clothes for the kid,” Panam said, letting the bag fall gently beside the second cot. She grabbed one of the folding canvas chairs and dropped into it with a grunt, legs spread, elbows on her knees.

Valerie pushed herself up slowly, groaning as her leg adjusted. “Thanks.”

Panam stared at her for a long moment. Then: “So. What the hell happened?”

Valerie let out a breath, rubbed her eyes with her palm, then leaned forward, arms resting on her thighs. “After we split? Everything went sideways. My cyberware is gone. All of it. The body couldn’t take it anymore. Judy helped pull what was left before it killed me. I’ve got neural slots and a personal link now, that’s it.”

Panam’s brow furrowed.

Valerie continued. “The nanites… they’re repairing what the Relic didn’t fry. Still get spikes. The brain's rebuilding itself, but it ain’t subtle.” She gave a dry chuckle, more bitter than amused. “Hanako tried a power grab. Put a bounty on me and Judy. She thought we were loose ends. But Tokyo buried it under PR. Claimed the bounties were placed improperly.”

Panam shook her head slowly. “Jesus. And here I thought I was paranoid.”

Valerie looked at her. “You should be.”

Silence stretched between them, taut with the things that hadn’t been said yet. Then Panam leaned back slightly, jaw tight.

“And the kid?” Her voice was low, edged with something between disbelief and anger. “You’ve got a bounty. You’re hiding in a goddamn canvas tent in the middle of nowhere. You blew up a fuckin’ megatower. You’re fugitives, V. And you brought a kid into it?”

Valerie didn’t flinch. She just nodded. “Yeah.”

Panam sat forward again, voice rising. “You think Phoenix is some free-for-all utopia? You go into the wrong part of that city and someone’s gonna try to sell you to the highest bidder. Arasaka might’ve gone quiet, but Militech’s still out for blood. The NUSA wants your head on a spike. We’re walking tightropes out here. The family’s already taken hits. If someone clocks you…”

“She was alone,” Valerie cut in, sharp but not shouting. “Her mom was murdered two weeks ago. Judy found her scavenging through our van. Hungry. Exhausted. Terrified.”

Panam didn’t speak. Just stared.

Valerie’s voice lowered, throat dry. “You’re right. I fucked up more than I can count. Burned bridges, took risks I shouldn’t have. And I don’t know what tomorrow looks like. But I do know I’ve got a wife who’s still beside me, and now a kid who sees something in me worth staying for.”

She let that sit for a second. Then added, quieter:

“Sera… she said she heard stories about V. Running around the city. But she didn’t look at me and see a legend. She looked at me and saw someone still trying. Still standing. First person since Judy who saw past the Merc.”

Valerie’s eyes lifted and met Panam’s, unflinching. “So yeah. I’d do it all over again. Every busted step. Every mistake. If it meant seeing the way Sera smiled over chili like she hadn’t smiled in weeks.”

Panam was quiet for a long beat.

Then she looked away, exhaled hard through her nose, and ran a hand through her hair. “You’re still an idiot.”

Valerie grinned faintly. “Never claimed otherwise.”

Another silence settled between them, this one a little softer. The sound of distant laughter carried faintly from the other side of camp. The breeze picked up just enough to rustle the side of the tent.

Panam finally looked back at her.

“She’s a good kid,” she muttered. “Make sure she gets the life she deserves.”

Valerie nodded. “I will.”

In that space no promises, no sweeping forgiveness, just a hard-won truce between sisters bound by fire and fallout the tent felt a little sturdier. A little more like home.

The air in the tent held that late-night stillness that only came when camp had finally begun to settle the clatter of tools faded, conversations low, just the occasional rustle of tarps or far-off hum of a rig cooling down.

Valerie exhaled slowly, hand resting against her ribs, thumb brushing absent across the bandage out of habit more than pain. Her voice was quiet, not needing to fill the space.

“I still think about Saul. Teddy. Bob.” A pause. “Don’t think we’d have made it through without ’em. Their sacrifices… they held the line when we couldn’t.”

Panam had her arms crossed, staring toward the flap of the tent, but her jaw tightened at the names. When she turned back, her eyes were shadowed, but dry.

“Saul was the leader we needed. Not me.” Her voice had that familiar clipped edge, the one she used when things hurt too much to bleed out. “Even when I couldn’t see it. But let’s not linger on it.”

She rubbed her face once, dragged her palm back through her hair, then stood with a soft grunt and reached down to tap Valerie’s shoulder.

“In the morning,” Panam said, tone shifting with a worn steadiness, “you show Sera around camp. Let her get her bearings. I’ll take care of the formal part. Give her a proper Clan introduction.”

Valerie blinked, her head tilting a little as the words settled.

“She’s welcome to be an Aldecaldo,” Panam added, a little quieter now. Not dramatic, not ceremonial, just real.

Valerie smiled, slow and warm, something old and quiet behind her emerald eyes. “Thank you, Panam.”

Panam was already halfway to the flap, waving a hand over her shoulder like she couldn’t be bothered with thanks. “Don’t make it weird,” she muttered, slipping back out into the night.

The tent dimmed again with her absence, the silence wrapping itself around the cot like a loose blanket. Valerie leaned back, one arm under her head again, gaze returning to that same seam overhead. Outside, the camp was alive in the way Nomad places always were, soft radio static, boots crunching, someone’s faint laughter folded into the wind.

She stayed like that for a while, letting her thoughts drift. No voices in her head, no pain spike just the heavy thrum of her heartbeat and the strange stillness that came from knowing, somehow, this time… they were going to be okay.

Valerie stayed stretched across the cot, arm tucked beneath her head, eyes still fixed lazily on the canvas roof above. The edges of her mouth tugged upward as she caught the soft rhythm of footsteps approaching gravel crunch, a half-skip, then the low murmur of Judy’s voice and Sera’s lighter one rising beside it.

They pushed through the flap a moment later, Judy first, ducking her head against the breeze, a towel slung over one shoulder. Her hair was damp, curled slightly at the ends, and she had that freshly-washed calm about her, all loose limbs and sleep-soft eyes.

She caught Valerie’s smile before saying anything. “Everything okay, mi amor?”

Valerie let her gaze shift to meet hers, warm and steady. “Yeah,” she said, voice a little low but settled. “I’m good.”

Then she turned her attention to Sera, who was trailing behind Judy with towel-dried hair spiked slightly at the top, the oversized shirt she wore hanging past her shorts. Her face was flushed from the hot water and the walk back, but her eyes looked clearer, lighter somehow.

Valerie nodded toward the small bag sitting near the canvas chair. “Panam brought you some clothes.”

Sera’s eyes widened just a little, glancing between them before padding over in her socks to take a peek. “For real?”

“For real,” Valerie said with a grin. “And I’ve got a surprise for you tomorrow. Something I think you’ll like.”

Sera hesitated, one hand resting on the edge of the cot near Valerie’s leg. “What kind of surprise?”

Valerie winked, eyes closing as her head dropped back to the pillow. “That’d ruin it, wouldn’t it?”

Sera narrowed her eyes suspiciously, but the corners of her mouth curved up. “You’re lucky you’re injured. I’d tickle it out of you.”

Judy snorted, tossing the towel into the laundry sack near the tent wall. “She’s not bluffing either. Better watch your ribs.”

“Unfair tactics,” Valerie muttered, but the amusement in her voice said she didn’t mind.

Judy settled down beside her on the cot, one hand brushing over Valerie’s side in the gentlest way. “You sure you’re okay?” she murmured again, not needing everyone to hear.

Valerie gave a slow nod. “Yeah. I had a talk with Panam. It helped.” Her eyes flicked toward Sera, who was carefully folding her new clothes and placing them by her cot with a strange sort of reverence. “Things are starting to feel… real. In a good way.”

Judy leaned in, resting her forehead briefly against Valerie’s temple. “Good. We could use more of that.”

Outside, the wind shifted again, rustling the tent flaps just enough to let in the scent of dry dirt and warm metal. Inside, it felt like the world was catching its breath right along with them.

Sera set the last folded shirt down beside her cot and let her fingers linger on the fabric for a moment. Then, with a soft exhale, she lowered herself back onto the thin mattress, legs curled up just slightly, her back easing against the canvas like it was the first time in ages she didn’t need to brace for anything.

She stared at the tent ceiling for a beat before turning her head toward the two of them.

“This is the first night in weeks I don’t have to be afraid of falling asleep,” she said quietly. Not dramatic, just honest. “Even with all the noise out there…” She gestured vaguely toward the outside, where the soft rumble of distant conversation and the occasional clank of metal drifted through the flap. “It’s more peaceful than the silence I’m used to.”

Judy looked over at her, her expression gentle. She reached out without thinking and nudged the corner of Sera’s cot with her foot. “That silence’s not comin’ back, mi cielo. Not as long as you’re with us.”

Valerie shifted to prop herself slightly higher on the pillow, her hand brushing over the edge of Judy’s thigh. “You’re with family now,” she said, voice a low hum. “That means something here. You don’t sleep alone. You don’t eat alone. And you don’t have to carry that fear by yourself.”

Sera didn’t say anything right away, but she tucked the blanket closer around her chest and let her eyes close partway.

“I’m not gonna miss the silence,” she murmured.

From the way her breathing slowed just a little, that blanket pulled a little tighter, it was clear she meant it.

The tent had quieted again, just the low hush of the camp beyond and the soft, steady rhythm of Sera’s breathing. She’d turned slightly in her sleep, one arm now tucked under the makeshift pillow, red hair feathering across her cheek. There was no tension in her shoulders, no twitch of fight-or-flight coiled beneath the surface, just sleep. Real, restful sleep.

Valerie watched her for a while, her fingers loosely threaded with Judy’s, the light from the hanging bulb casting soft shadows across the canvas above.

She smiled, voice almost a whisper. “Feels good, Jude. I feel like… despite everything… I lived a life that mattered now.”

Judy leaned in and kissed her cheek, lips brushing freckled skin with the tenderness of years shared. “You always mattered to me, guapa.”

The silence that followed wasn’t heavy. Just full. A quiet reverence as they sat there side by side, hearts slowing, watching the girl who’d wandered into their life and carved a place for herself without even trying.

Judy glanced over, brushing her thumb along the edge of Valerie’s hand. “I cleared my head a bit in the shower,” she murmured. “Started thinking about something… you remember The Link experiment we started back at Laguna Bend?”

Valerie tilted her head, brow furrowed slightly. “The BD shard you made… to sync our wavelengths?”

Judy nodded, her eyes flickering with that spark she always got when a new idea began to take shape. “Yeah. Should still be in the rig. I was thinking if I can re-calibrate it, I might be able to feel when you’re about to spike. The pain, the disorientation… I could sense it before it hits. Stop it before it drops you.”

Valerie exhaled slowly, fingers squeezing around Judy’s. “You really think that’d work? You’d feel all of it. Just like back when the relic used to… go bad on me.”

“That’s how I’ll know when you need me, mi amor,” Judy said, rubbing her thumb softly over Valerie’s knuckles. “And I’ll always be there to catch you.”

Valerie nodded after a beat, the worry still flickering at the edges, but trust deeper. “Then we try it. If you’re sure.”

Judy smiled. “I’m sure.”

Judy pressed a kiss to her forehead, then slipped gently from the cot. Valerie watched her disappear through the flap, the quiet scuff of her boots fading into the hush outside.

She looked back to Sera. The girl hadn’t moved. Still curled up in the cot like it was the first real bed she’d had in years.

A few minutes passed before Judy returned, pushing the flap aside with one arm, a slim white case tucked under the other. Valerie blinked once, then smiled wide.

Because perched on Judy’s head tilted just the slightest bit sideways was her old black cowgirl hat. Silver band glinting in the lamplight.

“Well, look what the wind dragged in,” Valerie whispered, grin tugging across her face.

Judy gave her a smirk, then tipped the hat off and dropped it on the canvas chair beside her. “Found something else in the rig.”

She sat back down beside Valerie, the case already open. Her fingers moved slowly, reverent, brushing across Valerie’s jaw, then down along the line of her neck. They paused at the neural slots tucked just beneath the skin, before grazing the familiar lotus inked there soft and full of memory.

“Does it hurt… when I touch them?”

Valerie shook her head, emerald eyes soft. “Not really. Hopefully they still work after the surge.”

Judy didn’t answer right away. Just reached into the case and retrieved the BD shard she’d once built in a fevered, sleepless week beside the lake. Slim, white, marked only by a trace of etched petals near the connector. She held it between her fingers like it was something sacred.

“Vik thought the slots were safe,” she said gently. “Shouldn’t interfere with anything the way the combat stuff did. It’s not wired for control. Just connection.”

Valerie shifted slightly, letting her hair fall forward as Judy slotted the shard into place. A soft click, then stillness.

Then like a breath.

A soft sync, not invasive, not cold. Just there. Judy’s presence blooming through her senses like sunlight through a canopy. Thoughts not spoken but understood. Emotion woven into her pulse. Not just feeling her own pain, but knowing someone else already had their arms around it.

Judy closed her eyes, her hand sliding into Valerie’s as the sync settled like a heartbeat shared. A tether, warm and unshakable.

“I’ve got you,” she whispered.

Valerie leaned her forehead against hers, voice barely audible. “I know.”

They stayed like that for a while, foreheads close, breath mingled, not needing words. The sync pulsed soft between them, no intrusion, just the ebb and flow of shared memory. Valerie could feel Judy’s warmth like it came from inside her own chest, the spark of her dark brown eyes during their wedding dance, the slow, swaying rhythm beneath a sky streaked with stars. The comfort of tea hands cupped tight around the cup, steam curling up like a promise. Rain on the lake roof. Fingertips trailing the edge of a freckled shoulder in the dim quiet of too-late nights.

It wasn’t just memory, it was being in it. All of it. Together.

Then it changed.

Judy felt it first.

A ripple in the flow, like cold water threading through warmth. The sync twitched, then drew taut. Something sharp forming under the surface, a sting behind the eyes, not her own. That phantom taste of static. The echo of a scream before it ever reached Valerie’s throat.

Judy didn’t flinch. Just moved.

She rolled gently from the cot, silent as she padded to the med kit. Fingers moved fast but sure bottle, pill, a cup of water poured from the jug with just enough to swallow clean. She could already feel Valerie’s discomfort burning through the link, not quite a spike but climbing fast. Like lightning thinking about striking.

By the time Judy returned, Valerie was gripping the side of her head, jaw clenched. The soft hum of the tent lamp caught on the sheen across her brow. Her eyes normally bright with that sharp emerald fire had dulled to a muddied green, the kind of color they turned when the wiring went wrong and the pain pulled her under. But not this time.

“Here,” Judy whispered, slipping her arm behind Valerie’s shoulders, pressing the cup gently to her lips.

Valerie drank, swallowed, then took the red pill from Judy’s fingers. Her hand shook, but not as bad as it used to. The nanites were buying time, doing what they could in that quiet war inside her body. But what really held her tethered in place was Judy.

She sat beside her without flinching, both hands now wrapped around Valerie’s. Not just witnessing it, but in it. Every raw edge of pain that shimmered under Valerie’s skin… Judy bore it too.

Valerie’s head dropped slightly, her temple resting against Judy’s arm. The ringing hadn’t stopped yet, but her breathing was beginning to steady. The pill was working. The sync hadn’t broken.

Her voice was ragged when it finally came out. “You felt that?”

Judy didn’t answer with words. She just held her tighter, leaned in, pressed her lips to Valerie’s temple with a gentleness that said yes. I felt all of it. And I’m still here.

Because real love wasn’t always quiet evenings and soft laughter.

Sometimes it was holding steady through the storm, anchoring someone else when the ground went loose under them.

Tonight, they both held on.

Valerie didn’t speak for a while after that. She just breathed, letting her head rest against Judy’s shoulder, the sync between them slowly smoothing back out into something bearable. The pressure in her skull hadn’t vanished, but it no longer throbbed against the inside of her eyes. The worst of it had passed, and Judy had carried her through it without hesitation.

The cot creaked softly beneath them as Judy shifted, one hand still wrapped around Valerie’s, the other brushing damp red strands of hair back from her face. She leaned her head against Valerie’s, cheek to temple, exhaling slowly.

“You didn’t flinch,” Valerie murmured. Her voice was hoarse, but there was a thread of wonder in it.

“I felt it coming,” Judy said softly. “Didn’t want to leave you alone in it.”

Valerie let out something between a laugh and a breath. “You didn’t. Not for a second.”

Their fingers stayed laced, warm and certain.

Outside the tent, camp had quieted. The hum of the generators was a steady throb in the distance, mixing with the low rustle of wind through the canvas and the faint sounds of boots on gravel from the far edges of the ridge. It wasn’t silence, but it was safe.

Valerie glanced toward the far cot where Sera lay curled beneath the thin blanket, one hand tucked under her cheek, red hair catching the glow of the small camp light like fire just under the surface. Her chest rose and fell slowly, peaceful. No more tension braced in her spine. No more restless twitch in her fingers. Just rest.

Valerie exhaled, slow and uneven. “You hear how easy she breathed tonight?”

Judy nodded against her. “Probably the first time in weeks she didn’t flinch at every sound.”

Valerie’s throat tightened, but she nodded too, just once. “Feels different now.”

Judy brushed her thumb along Valerie’s knuckles. “It is.”

Valerie leaned her head against the canvas wall, watching the faint rise and fall of Sera’s chest. Her voice came low, raw around the edges. “Guess we really are her moms now.”

A small smile crept into Judy’s voice. “Looks like it.”

Valerie tilted her head, just enough to feel Judy’s warmth still pressed beside her. “Let’s try not to fuck it up.”

Judy leaned close and kissed behind her ear, slow and certain. “We won’t. Not alone in it this time, mi amor.”

They stayed like that, close and quiet, while the desert night breathed soft around them. The generator hummed in the distance. Footsteps faded. Between the two cots and their stitched-together lives, a kind of peace finally held.

Valerie eased back into the cot, the canvas creaking softly beneath her as she stretched her left leg out with a quiet hiss of air. The ache wasn't sharp, more like an echo now, but it still stole her breath for a second. She let it pass, then glanced toward Judy, voice low.

“Could’ve been worse if your idea didn’t work, Jude. I hate putting you through this.”

Judy was already settling beside her, careful with the cot’s narrow frame. She let her thoughts slip through the sync gentle warmth, the feel of a quiet morning at Laguna Bend, the pressure of fingers wrapped around a mug of coffee. Valerie felt it like a balm just beneath her skin.

She sighed, head turning slightly into Judy’s shoulder. “I just want to get better. There’s a lot of things I’d like to show her, but right now it’s a battle just to move. How am I supposed to be a mom when it’s hard to even feel like myself?”

Judy’s fingers threaded gently through her red hair, smoothing it back behind one ear. “Already doing enough, Val. Told her you had a surprise for her tomorrow. Probably the first night since she lost her mom where she’s got something to look forward to when she wakes up.”

That cracked a small smile across Valerie’s lips. “Don’t tell her,” she murmured, eyelids getting heavier, “but after we show her around the camp in the morning… Panam’s gonna introduce her as an official Aldecaldo. Just like they did for us.”

Judy’s hand lingered against Valerie’s temple, resting there like a promise. Outside, the camp was settling boots crunching gravel, someone laughing faintly near a fire, wind shifting the flap of the tent with a dry whisper. In here, between them, it was all still.

For the first time in a long while, tomorrow didn’t feel like something to dread.

They stayed like that, tucked into the quiet, the sync still holding between them like a thread pulled soft and steady.

Valerie shifted just enough to settle closer, her head resting against Judy’s chest, ear pressed to the slow rhythm beneath skin. The sound of Judy's heartbeat wasn’t loud or dramatic. It was just there. Steady, and alive. Like it had always been meant to be her anchor.

Judy let her arm curl around her, fingertips tracing slow shapes along the curve of Valerie’s back, each movement easing the tension bit by bit. Neither of them spoke. They didn’t need to. The sync carried the weight between them wordless reassurance, flashes of warmth, memory, want, and relief. Through it, Judy could feel the way Valerie let go. Not all at once, but enough.

Outside, camp noises dulled to murmurs. A few voices still passed now and then, and the wind tugged at the far corner of the tent, but none of it reached past the hush they’d built between their bodies.

Valerie’s breath slowed, soft against Judy’s collarbone, the kind of exhale that didn’t ask for anything just gave in.

Judy kept her dark brown eyes open a little longer, staring up at the tent’s dim ceiling, her hand still stroking lightly along Val’s spine. The rhythm beneath her palm, and the warmth of Valerie’s breath, were all the world needed to be for now.

Slowly, without ceremony or fear, the night took them both.

Chapter Text

The light coming through the tent walls had shifted brighter now, that soft gold edge that only morning brought in the desert. It pooled in slanted streaks across the canvas floor, catching dust motes in a slow swirl. The rig coughed once in the distance, an idle grumble of an engine warming to life somewhere across camp, and that was enough to pull Judy from the edge of sleep.

She blinked slowly, vision adjusting. Valerie was still tucked against her, cheek pressed warm into her shoulder. Judy didn’t move, not yet.

Then she saw it just beyond the cot, Sera sitting upright, already dressed, her boots toeing the dirt floor as they swung in tiny, anxious arcs. The girl was smiling faintly, chewing the inside of her cheek, like holding something back. Her eyes flicked toward the cot every few seconds, then to the flap of the tent, then back again. Waiting.

Judy smirked. “You’ve been up a while, huh?”

Sera startled just a little, then grinned. “I didn’t want to wake you.”

Judy lifted a hand, rubbing at her eyes with the heel of her palm. “What time is it?”

“Don’t know,” Sera said, quieter. “But the sun’s up. And you said there was a surprise…”

Judy chuckled, careful not to wake Valerie as she slowly sat up, guiding her arm from under her. Val stirred slightly, murmuring something unintelligible, but didn’t fully wake.

Judy leaned close to her, brushed a strand of red hair behind her ear, then whispered, “Sleep a little longer, Guapa. I’ll get breakfast started.”

She turned back to Sera, who was already half-standing, trying hard to pretend she wasn’t bouncing on the balls of her feet.

“Alright, Starshine,” Judy said, stretching her arms overhead. “Let’s make sure this surprise doesn’t find us still in pajamas.”

Sera beamed and stepped lightly toward the tent flap. “I’m ready.”

Judy shook her head with a small smile, grabbing her jacket and motioning for her to lead the way. The camp was already waking voices calling to one another, the scent of something cooking downwind, and the sky wide open above it all. Just another morning.

For the girl at her side, maybe the first one that felt like something was waiting for her. Something good.

Judy nudged Sera gently with her elbow as they walked, arm still slung around her shoulder. “You know, technically it was your mom who said she had a surprise. I’m just the messenger. My lips are sealed.”

Sera let out a playful groan. “Darn. I was hoping you’d crack.”

Judy grinned. “Nice try, Starshine. But how about this let me show you around first. Then we grab some breakfast from the mess tent and surprise her back.”

Sera’s eyes lit up. “Where to first?”

Judy tilted her head toward the far edge of the camp. “Let’s start with some wisdom.”

They cut across the loose gravel paths between tents, the morning already warming with that dry desert bite. Judy led her to a patch of shade cast by a weather-faded RV rig, long since stripped down and reworked into something permanent. A metal awning stretched off one side, casting a cool spot over a picnic table surrounded by the clink of ceramic mugs and the soft murmur of half-awake conversation.

“This here,” Judy said, tipping her head toward the group, “is where the war vets hang out. If you ever need advice or just a story to make your day one of these legends has at least a few.”

Mitch lifted his head first, thick hands wrapped around a chipped mug, his graying goatee catching the light as he squinted toward them. “Well now. Judy Alvarez, walking around before noon. It must be a special occasion.”

Carol chuckled behind him, boots kicked up on the bench, her ever-present red bandana pushed up on her forehead. “Either that or hell finally froze.”

Cassidy just raised his coffee in greeting, the corner of his mouth twitching like he was halfway to a grin but hadn’t fully committed yet.

Judy gave them all a mock bow. “Figured it was time to show our newest clan member the real heart of the camp.”

Mitch stood, wiping his hand on his jeans before offering it to Sera. “You must be the girl Val and Judy scooped up. Heard good things already.”

Sera shook his hand, trying to play it cool, but the corner of her mouth curled just a little higher. “Nice to meet you.”

Carol leaned forward, eyes sharp but kind. “Don’t let these two scare you off. We’re mostly retired these days.”

“Mostly,” Cassidy added without looking up from his cup.

Judy smirked. “Don’t let them fool you either, Sera. Carol once took down a convoy with a busted rifle and a socket wrench.”

Carol waved her hand. “That story gets more dramatic every time.”

“Because you keep leaving out the good parts,” Judy shot back.

Sera giggled, and Judy could feel her ease a little more beside her like she’d stepped into something that might actually last. Something real.

Cassidy leaned back just enough to stretch out his legs, giving Sera a long, steady glance over his mug. “So, are you the quiet type, or just scoping the place out?”

Sera blinked at him, then grinned. “Little of both.”

Mitch chuckled, tapping a finger on the table. “Smart answer. You’ll fit in fine.”

“You got any hobbies?” Carol asked, brushing her bangs back with a ring-heavy hand. “Other than humoring us old folks.”

Sera hesitated, glancing at Judy, then back at them. “I like to sketch sometimes. Mostly people. Stuff I see.”

“That’s a hell of a gift,” Mitch said. “Wish I had something like that. Closest I ever came to art was carving tally marks into a helmet.”

Carol nudged Cassidy with her elbow. “You still got that one drawing from Denver?”

Cassidy finally cracked that half-smile into something full. “Yeah. Framed it. Some kid back then sketched our whole crew sleeping in shifts. She said we looked like wreckage with boots.”

Sera laughed, just once, surprised by it.

“You ever wanna show off a page or two,” Carol said, “we’d like to see. No pressure.”

Judy placed a hand on Sera’s shoulder, giving it a little squeeze. “Thanks, all of you. Just wanted her to meet the legends before we keep movin’.”

“You bring her back anytime,” Mitch said. “She’s already clan as far as I’m concerned.”

Sera gave them a small wave as she and Judy turned to go. “Thanks.”

They headed back into the soft warmth of the morning, gravel crunching beneath their boots. The camp was waking up now, someone kicking at a generator, the sizzle of eggs from the mess tent, voices rising in little bursts of laughter or tired mumbling. A couple Aldecaldos nodded their way, one older woman tipping a wide hat with a smile, another giving Judy a sleepy salute.

Then just ahead, near one of the larger tents, came Vicky Dearing, her braid pulled back in a looped tie, arm wrapped loosely around the shoulder of her daughter, Sandra. The girl had that same wide-set confidence in her walk, boots worn but clean, denim vest covered in patches. She looked about Sera’s age.

Judy slowed slightly as they crossed paths.

“Morning,” Vicky greeted, her voice warm but steady. “I heard Valerie’s awake.”

“Yeah,” Judy smiled. “Still sore but on her feet. We’ll be sticking around.”

Sandra gave a nod quietly, a little guarded.

Sera shifted beside Judy, shoulders rising just a hair, her fingers tugging at the edge of her sleeve.

“This is Sera,” Judy said gently, tilting her head. “She’s new to camp. Just getting to know the place.”

Vicky smiled. “Welcome, Sera. We’re glad you’re here.”

Sandra looked at her, not unfriendly, just curious. “You with Valerie and Judy?”

Sera nodded, then added softly, “Yeah. They’re… my moms.”

Sandra’s expression changed slightly. Not shock, more like understanding, maybe recognition. She offered a short nod. “Cool. You seen the scrapyard yet?”

Sera shook her head.

Sandra pointed over her shoulder. “They let you climb the big pile if you don’t knock anything over.”

Sera cracked a smile, small but real.

Judy grinned quietly, her voice soft in Sera’s ear. “Looks like you might have a friend already.”

Sera didn’t say anything, but she didn’t pull away either. Just let herself breathe a little deeper.

Sera gave a small smile, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. “Maybe we can hang out later after my Mama finishes showing me around, and my Mom tells me what the surprise is.”

Sandra nodded, kicking the toe of her boot against a pebble. “Yeah. Just find me later. I’ll be at the yard or near the turbine shack. That’s where the signal’s best.”

Vicky gave her daughter a quick side glance but didn’t say anything, just smiled softly. Sandra’s eyes lingered on Sera for a moment longer before she gave a small wave and turned to follow her mom down the path toward one of the solar arrays.

Sera watched them go, the faintest flicker of nervous energy still in her shoulders, but something steadier underneath now.

Judy gave her a sideways glance as they started walking again. “She seems like they are good people.”

“She didn’t even make fun of my boots,” Sera said, then looked down at her scuffed-up laces. “That’s a good sign.”

Judy smirked. “That’s how you know you’re in with the cool kids.”

They kept walking past tents strung with makeshift windchimes and tool benches built out of reclaimed scrap. A few camp dogs lazed in the dirt, one lifting its head to watch them before flopping back down. The morning sun had risen just enough to warm the gravel beneath their boots, the kind of dry heat that didn’t bite yet just settled in slowly, like it had all the time in the world.

Sera’s voice came quieter now. “She didn’t seem weird about it.”

“About what?” Judy asked, her hand brushing a canvas flap aside as they cut behind one of the equipment trailers.

“That I said I had two moms,” Sera said, almost like she hadn’t meant to say it out loud. “Most people just get quiet, or change the subject.”

Judy paused a second, then turned fully to face her, crouching a little to meet her eyes. “This clan? They’ve seen a lot. Fought through a lot. The ones who stuck around? They’re here because they know what it means to hold onto the people who matter.”

Sera nodded slowly, her fingers twisting the hem of her shirt.

“And for the record?” Judy added with a grin. “You’ve got one very stubborn mom and one very resourceful one. I think you’ll be alright.”

Sera smirked. “Pretty sure I know which is which.”

Judy laughed as they rounded back toward the mess tent. “C’mon. Let’s grab some food and head back. Something tells me Valerie’s gonna want to see that smile again before she spills the surprise.”

Judy glanced toward the flap of the med tent as they passed, the canvas catching faint in the morning breeze, the corners weighed down with salvaged rebar. “No real doc in camp,” she said, hand resting lightly on Sera’s back to guide her along the path. “But a few of us’ve picked up enough to patch people together when it counts.”

Sera tilted her head, a grin already forming. “Bet you had to learn fast with all the stories I heard about Mom.”

Judy laughed under her breath, dark brown eyes crinkling at the corners. “Yeah, well. She’s got a talent for charging headfirst into trouble and pretending she didn’t.”

Sera kicked a small rock down the path, her smirk growing. “You gonna tell me she screamed like a baby when you stitched her up?”

“Oh, you’ll hear it yourself tomorrow,” Judy said, her voice low and amused. “Stitches come out in the morning. I’m fully expecting some dramatic yelping. Maybe even threats of exile.”

Sera laughed, the sound lighter than it had been in days. “I’ll make sure to bring popcorn.”

Judy grinned. “Remind me to teach you how to brace her knees down, just in case.”

They kept walking, the path toward the mess tent lined with crates and cables and early risers carrying out chores. But in that moment, it felt like their own quiet lane threaded with dust, sunlight, and the sound of a bond still being stitched together.

Judy slowed her steps as the messhall tent came into view, the flap swaying as a breeze carried the smell of beans and scorched coffee into the open air. She caught sight of a familiar frame leaning against one of the support poles out front broad-shouldered, weather-worn, arms crossed over a faded vest patched at the seams.

“There,” Judy said, tipping her chin toward him. “That’s Dante Karino. One of your mom’s oldest friends. Used to ride with her back in the Bakkers until he figured out the Aldecaldos offered a better kind of life.”

Sera’s eyes followed her gaze. “He looks serious.”

Judy smiled. “He is. But he’s steady. Has this way of showing up right when you need him. Helped Valerie more times than I can count.”

As they got closer, Dante pushed off the post, nodding once in their direction.

“Well I’ll be,” he said, voice deep, worn like old leather. “If it isn’t Judy Alvarez, walking around like she runs the place.”

Judy gave him a look, half playful, half sharp. “If I did, we’d have decent coffee.”

Dante let out a chuckle and looked to Sera. “And who’s this? Don’t think we’ve met.”

Judy placed a hand on Sera’s shoulder. “This is Sera. Valerie and I well… she’s ours now.”

Dante’s brows lifted slightly, but there was no shock in it, just quiet understanding. He extended a hand.

“Good to meet you, Sera. Your mom’s a hell of a fighter. You’ve got good people watching your back.”

Sera shook his hand, her grip small but steady. “That’s what they keep telling me.”

Dante smiled faintly, then glanced at Judy. “You two eating?”

“Grabbing something for Val first,” Judy replied. “Then we’ll be back.”

He gave a short nod. “Tell her she still owes me a drink.”

Judy smirked. “You and everyone else.”

They moved past, Sera glancing back once at the man who spoke of her mom with such quiet certainty. Another thread stitching her into this world, one voice at a time.

Sera slowed as soon as they crossed the mess tent threshold, something tugging at her attention. The smell of food still hung in the air, but nobody was seated. Instead, folks were drifting some carrying mugs, others just with hands in their pockets toward the unlit fire pit in the camp’s center. The early morning sun painted long shadows across the dirt as more and more Aldecaldos gathered, forming a loose circle.

She looked up at Judy, brow furrowed. “What’s going on? Is this normal?”

Judy smiled, a little guilty, a little proud. “Okay… I admit it. I was a distraction.”

Sera blinked, caught between confusion and realization just as the flap behind them rustled. She turned, and there was Valerie walking slow, steady, left leg dragging just slightly but holding. Her red hair caught the light, loose around her shoulders, one hand braced at her side for balance. No cane, no support. Just grit.

Judy reached for Sera’s hand gently. “We’ll grab breakfast in a bit, I promise. But first… there’s something you should see.”

Sera nodded, lips parting without words. She squeezed Judy’s hand tighter, heart thumping with a mix of nerves and something she didn’t have a name for yet. Something that felt a little like hope.

Judy led her gently across the clearing, steps slow so Valerie wouldn’t have to rush. She shifted close to her wife, letting her lean as they took their place together near the fire circle. Sera stood in front of them now, between her mothers, all eyes on Panam as she stepped into view.

More Aldecaldos are arriving now. Some still finishing their coffee, others with half-fastened jackets or morning voices rasping low. The crowd wasn’t loud, just present. Familiar shapes formed a kind of hush that held steady around the fire.

Sera inched back slightly, brushing against Valerie’s side.

“Did I… do something wrong?” she asked quietly, not looking away from Panam.

Valerie reached out, her hand resting gently on the girl’s shoulder. “Not at all, Starshine.”

Panam’s eyes met Sera’s, and then she turned to face the rest of the Clan.

“Aldecaldos,” she called, voice steady, carrying clear without shouting. “This morning we gathered to welcome our newest family member Sera Alvarez.”

A few glances passed through the crowd, soft murmurs from those who hadn’t met her yet.

Panam continued. “I’ve only spoken to her once or twice, but if half of what Valerie tells me is true, then this girl’s got the heart and grit of someone born into the dust. Someone who knows how to hold her own, but still makes room for others.”

She looked back at Sera then no judgment, no test. Just something open and grounding, like she was letting her stand there without having to earn it.

“We’ve all come from something,” Panam said. “Some of us ran. Some of us fought. Some of us survived more than we ever should’ve had to. But the one thing we all chose was family.”

She paused.

“And today, Sera’s one of us.”

Valerie squeezed Sera’s shoulder once. Judy brushed her thumb across the girl’s knuckles.

Someone whistled from the crowd. Mitch maybe. Then a couple claps. Then more. Not explosive, just warm. Like the sound of a circle closing around her, not shutting her out.

Panam stepped forward, holding out the old Aldecaldo patch. Rough fabric, a little faded, but stitched clean.

“You don’t have to wear it yet,” she said. “But it’s yours. If you want it.”

Sera looked at it, then back at her moms. Her throat worked to swallow something she didn’t want to say out loud.

But her hand moved forward anyway, fingers wrapping around the patch.

“I do,” she said quietly.

Panam smiled. “Then welcome home.”

Sera looked down at the patch in her hands like it might vanish if she let go. Her fingers were still curled tight around the fabric, edges frayed just a little where it had been pulled from a storage box, or maybe someone’s old jacket. The crowd was starting to drift now, some back to the messhall, others toward the rigs, but it all felt distant, like the noise was behind glass.

Valerie leaned forward slowly, her left leg still stiff, and rubbed a hand over the top of Sera’s head with that same quiet grin she used whenever she fixed something no one thought was fixable.

“Enjoy your surprise?” she asked, voice warm with a pinch of teasing.

Sera tilted her head, the weight of the moment still catching up to her. “You said it was a surprise, not a whole ceremony.”

Valerie laughed under her breath. “Where’s the fun in that?”

Judy smiled beside them, shifting so Valerie could lean a little more comfortably. “ I've been trying to keep that a secret all morning. I nearly gave it away twice.”

Sera looked between them, still clutching the patch. “Do I… wear it right away? Or wait for a jacket or something?”

Valerie nodded toward her. “We’ll get you one. Panam’s got more stashed somewhere. For now? Just hold on to it. You earned it.”

Sera looked down again, then tucked the patch gently into her pocket. “Feels weird.”

“Good, weird?” Judy asked.

Sera nodded slowly. “Yeah. Like… it matters.”

Valerie’s smile softened. She reached out and gave Sera’s hand a gentle squeeze. “It does, Starshine. You do.”

Sera didn’t say anything for a second, just pressed her palm over the spot where the patch now rested. Then she turned toward the mess tent, already sniffing the air.

“Okay but… can my next surprise be breakfast?” she asked, trying not to grin.

Judy snorted. “That we can handle.”

Valerie leaned into her wife with a quiet laugh. “Finally. A request I don’t have to limp across camp to pull off.”

They started walking again, slow and steady, sunlight warming the dust at their feet Sera now walking between them. Not following. Not trailing. Just… part of it.

As they stepped through the flap of the messhall tent, the scent hit first peppery sausage, baked flour still warm from the griddle, and that ever-present hint of scorched coffee lingering under it all. Sera's eyes flicked toward the source, stomach already grumbling loud enough to make Valerie smirk.

From across the room, Vanessa spotted them and raised a hand in greeting, her dark red hair swept over one shoulder, sunglasses tucked into her shirt collar. Jessica stood beside her, already sipping from a steaming mug, brown hair tied back in a loose knot.

“There’s biscuits and gravy up,” Vanessa called over, motioning toward the serving line. “Coffee’s fresh. Might even be some juice left, if the little ones didn’t raid it already.”

Jessica grinned, leaning an elbow against the table. “No promises. They were on a sugar high before dawn.”

Sera blinked. “Wait, there’s actually other kids here besides Sandra?”

“Oh yeah,” Jessica said, pointing a thumb behind her. “They’re gremlins, but good ones. You’ll meet ‘em. They don’t bite… usually.”

Valerie chuckled low, glancing at Sera. “That sounded like a warning.”

Sera smirked. “I’ve handled worse.”

Judy nudged her toward the food line. “Go on, Starshine. Grab a plate while it’s hot.”

Sera didn’t need to be told twice. She headed off with a bounce in her step, the patch in her pocket still pressed close to her side.

Valerie watched her go, then let herself ease down into the nearest chair, exhaling slowly as she shifted her leg out. Judy moved behind her, fingers brushing along her shoulder before trailing off toward the cups.

Vanessa leaned closer from her side of the table. “Is that her first camp breakfast?”

“Yeah,” Valerie said, smiling faintly as she watched Sera pile a biscuit high with gravy. “First one that’s not out of a can or stolen from a dead vendor, anyway.”

Jessica looked toward the girl, then back at Valerie with a softened gaze. “She’s got your spark.”

Valerie blinked at that, not answering right away. Her eyes tracked Sera’s laugh from across the room. That little spark of something alive, even after all she’d been through.

“Hope she keeps it,” Valerie said at last, voice quiet. “We’ll do what we can.”

Judy returned with a mug of coffee in each hand, offering one to Valerie before sliding into the seat beside her.

“She’s already halfway through her first biscuit,” Judy said, grinning. “I think she likes it here.”

Valerie raised her cup. “Then we’re off to a damn good start.”

Jessica leaned back in her chair, giving a low whistle. “Start’s better than most of us got when we rolled in. I think she’s got more family here than she realizes.”

Judy smiled into her cup. “That’s the goal.”

Sera returned then, tray balanced, her plate stacked like she hadn’t eaten in weeks which, Valerie figured, wasn’t far from the truth. She slid into the chair beside her, nudging Valerie gently with her elbow before digging in.

“Not bad,” Sera mumbled around a bite. “Could get used to this.”

Jessica chuckled. “That gravy’s probably half salt, but yeah, it sticks.”

Valerie reached out, brushing a bit of biscuit crumb from Sera’s cheek. “Way better than expired kibble and dried rat jerky.”

Sera wrinkled her nose. “You make it sound like I had choices.”

“Bet you have one now,” Judy said, nudging her gently. “Finish that up, we've got the second half of your tour waiting.”

Sera’s smile softened a little at that. She glanced toward Valerie, then nudged her gently with one elbow. “Best surprise ever,” she mumbled through a mouthful.

Valerie grinned, hand resting warm over Sera’s shoulder. “Told you we’d get to the good part.”

Judy tilted her cup toward them both. “And we’re just getting started.

Sera had barely set her tray down before tearing into another biscuit, steam curling up from the gravy as she scooped at it with the edge of her fork. Her legs swung under the bench, not quite reaching the ground. Every few seconds her eyes flitted around the tent taking in the sound of laughter at the far table, the clink of mugs, the way light cut through a tear in the fabric overhead. Watching everything without saying much.

Valerie leaned forward on her elbows, mug cupped between both hands, the warmth sinking into her fingers. “Slow down, Starshine. It’s not goin’ anywhere.”

Sera blinked, cheeks puffed slightly with food, then swallowed hard and gave an almost sheepish grin. “Force of habit.”

Judy reached across the table, sliding a napkin toward her. “That kind of habit’s hard to break. But hey you’ve got time now.”

Sera wiped her mouth, then glanced back over at the line, watching a younger Aldecaldo boy dart past with a carton of juice clutched to his chest like he was escaping a heist.

Jessica, still nursing her coffee beside Vanessa, shook her head with a low laugh. “Told you. Gremlins.”

“I didn’t think there were this many people,” Sera said, quieter now. “The camp looked small from the outside.”

Valerie nodded slowly. “It does. But there’s a lot more stitched in than what shows. That’s how families like this survive. Spread out. Check in. Show up when it counts.”

Sera picked at a corner of biscuit on her plate, her voice even softer now. “Feels weird… not having to count seconds between noises at night.”

Judy leaned close, her hand resting at the edge of Sera’s tray. “You get to be a kid here. That’s not weird, it's overdue.”

Sera nodded but didn’t say anything right away. She just pushed her gravy around a bit longer, then grabbed her juice with both hands and took a slow sip.

Valerie caught the way her shoulders dropped, just slightly. A little more weight off her spine. A little more trust settling in.

From across the table, Vanessa raised her mug. “So what’s the plan after this? You two dragging her through the rest of camp?”

Valerie glanced over at Judy, who lifted an eyebrow like she was leaving that one to her.

“Well,” Valerie said, easing her leg out under the table again, “figured we’d give her the full rundown. Show her where the garage is, maybe the ammo tent, get her used to the folks around here. Lotta faces she’ll be seeing again.”

Sera perked up slightly. “Can we go by the garage first?”

Valerie grinned. “Thinking about what you’re gonna mod already?”

Sera shrugged, hiding a little smile. “Just curious.”

“Garage it is,” Judy said, downing the rest of her coffee.

Sera took another bite, chewing more slowly this time. “Might need more biscuits first, though.”

Valerie leaned back with a quiet laugh. “That’s the spirit.”

Judy smiled at Valerie, nudging her lightly with an elbow. “I should probably grab us a plate before Sera eats it all.”

Valerie gave a dry laugh, shifting where she sat, leg stretched out just enough to remind her it still wasn’t up for much. “Yeah… I’d make it halfway there and spill gravy all over my damn boot.”

Sera glanced up, cheeks full. “You want me to help?”

Valerie shook her head, warm. “Nah, you’ve done enough damage to that plate already.”

Judy rose from her seat, stretching just a bit before sliding her hand along Valerie’s shoulder. “I’ll be right back. Do you want coffee or juice?”

“Both,” Valerie said with a faint grin. “But I’ll settle for coffee.”

“Figured,” Judy muttered playfully as she headed off toward the serving line.

Sera leaned over her tray and whispered, “She always gets that serious about biscuits?”

Valerie smirked, resting her elbow on the table. “You should see her with chocolate. It’s a whole negotiation.”

Across the tent, Judy snagged a plate and started stacking it with practiced ease gravy-covered biscuits, a couple sausage links, and two cinnamon twists just in case. She glanced back toward the table once, caught Valerie watching her with that half-sleepy, half-grateful look that said more than words ever needed to.

Judy smirked to herself, then grabbed an extra cup of coffee.

The morning was only just beginning.

Judy made her way back through the mess tent, weaving between half-filled tables and the slow bustle of waking Nomads. The coffee in one hand sloshed gently, steam curling past her knuckles, and the plate in the other was loaded just enough to make her pace careful. A couple of the kids dashed past on their way out barefoot, loud, sticky-handed from who-knew-what, and she sidestepped just in time to keep the coffee from tipping.

Valerie spotted her coming and raised a brow. “Thought you were grabbing a plate, not loading for winter.”

Judy smirked as she eased the tray down in front of them. “Consider it a victory offering. I survived the buffet line.”

Sera snorted softly around a mouthful. “You make it sound like war.”

“You’ve never tried fighting Cassidy over the last sausage,” Judy said, pouring a bit of creamer into Valerie’s coffee before sliding it over. “Trust me it counts.”

Valerie picked up the mug with both hands, letting the warmth settle into her fingers. She took a slow sip, then tilted her head. “Perfect.”

“Of course it is.” Judy leaned in with a crooked grin, stealing one of the cinnamon twists before sitting back beside her.

Sera eyed the plate. “That for both of you?”

Judy offered her a look. “You’ve had your ration, little gremlin.”

Sera held up both hands, feigning innocence. “Just making sure.”

Valerie chuckled under her breath, then cut into the biscuit with her fork, slow and steady like every movement had to be thought through. The pain was still there, but manageable now with Judy nearby, with coffee in hand, with Sera beside her. For the first time in too long, breakfast felt like more than just survival.

She caught Sera watching the other kids through the side of the tent, their laughter drifting in with the breeze.

“Go on,” Valerie said, not looking up from her food. “No one said you had to stick to us all day.”

Sera looked back, lips parting like she might ask if it was really okay.

Judy gave her a gentle nudge. “We’ll be right here when you circle back.”

Sera hesitated only a second longer, then stood with her tray, juice still in hand. “If anyone bites, I’m blaming you,” she called over her shoulder.

Valerie didn’t answer right away, just watched her weave into the crowd. Then she exhaled, slow and deep, and leaned against Judy’s side.

“Think she’ll be okay?” she asked.

Judy took a bite of biscuit and chewed before answering. “She already is.”

Valerie tore off another bite of the twist, brushing a flake of sugar from Judy’s lip before slipping the piece into her mouth for her. “Guess we don’t need to worry about the garage or the rest of the tour,” she murmured, half teasing. “I’m sure the kids’ll show her everything, probably three times over and with twice the chaos.”

Judy licked the cinnamon from her lower lip, chasing it with a sip of coffee. “Mm. Sweet and a little reckless just like you.”

Valerie raised a brow, but didn’t argue.

Judy leaned back a little, resting her elbow on the table, eyes drifting toward the tent flap where the last of the morning light cut through. “Something seems different though, Val. When I showed her around earlier, we ran into Vicky and her kid Sandra. Sera looked nervous. Not scared, just… unsure.”

Valerie’s smile dimmed slightly, thoughtful. “Guess it’s easier not to overthink when there’s a pack of wild ones dragging you into their orbit.”

“Yeah,” Judy said. “Like it clicked all at once. She looked back for a second, then just went. No hesitation.”

Valerie watched the flap sway, a flicker of movement in the distance, one of the smaller kids darting past outside, laughing. Maybe Sera was right behind them. Maybe she’d already found something she hadn’t dared to hope for.

“She didn’t grow up with this,” Valerie said after a moment. “Not with people. Not with safety. And definitely not with other kids.”

Judy reached over, her fingers lacing with Valerie’s beneath the table. “But she’s got it now.”

Valerie squeezed her hand. “We just gotta make sure it stays hers.”

Valerie had just finished scooping the last of the gravy with her biscuit when the flap behind them rustled. The scent of dust and engine oil drifted in with it then came Panam, already halfway to the coffee urn before her boots fully cleared the threshold.

She didn’t say anything at first, just filled the chipped metal cup to the brim and took a long sip like she’d been chasing it since sunrise. Then she turned, smirking, and made her way over to their table.

“Thought I’d find you two still in here,” Panam said, sliding into the open seat beside Judy. Her eyes tracked the commotion beyond the flap shouts, laughter, some kid yelling something about a lizard. “Your kid’s been an Aldecaldo for five minutes, and she’s already one of the gremlins.”

Valerie chuckled, wiping her fingers clean on a napkin. “We figured we’d get a few days of adjustment first. Should’ve known better.”

Panam chuckled into her mug. “Sandra tried to keep up, poor girl. It looked like she wasn’t sure if it was a race or a jailbreak.”

Valerie blinked. “Our Sera? Shy-around-other-kids Sera?”

Panam took another sip. “Can’t teach that kind of fit. She didn’t just join the clan, she slipped right into it like she was born here.”

Valerie didn’t say anything for a beat, just looked toward the flap, then down at the cinnamon-dusted plate in front of her. “Still feels like I’m catching up to her. Like we’re the ones trying to earn it now.”

Panam gave a low hum. “She’s yours. That’s all that matters.”

Judy leaned a little closer to Valerie, her voice soft. “We just help her find the rest of herself.”

Valerie let that settle a second, the warmth of it. Her fingers brushed the rim of her cup. “Feels good, doesn’t it?”

Judy gave a quiet nod. “Yeah. It really does.”

Panam grinned over the rim of her cup. “Every time you two come back, the place wakes up a little.”

Panam let her coffee rest on the table, fingers curling loosely around the mug’s handle. The edge of her voice was gentler now, pulled down by something more thoughtful.

“I know it’s still recent just met her yesterday,” she said, glancing between them, “but have you told Ainara and Alejandro about Sera yet?”

The name alone made Valerie still. She didn’t move, didn’t speak, just let the question settle in the space between them like dust that hadn’t been disturbed in years.

Judy’s hand came to her shoulder, firm but tender. She took a breath.

“No… I haven’t.” Her voice was quieter now, rough around the edges. “Last time I called, Ainara told me not to reach out again. Said they didn’t recognize who I’d become. Said Valerie was dangerous, that she’d pulled me into something unforgivable.”

She paused, eyes fixed on the plate in front of her, the crumbs left untouched.

“It wasn’t just disapproval, it was like they’d already mourned me. Like I’d died at Mikoshi along with the version of me they wanted.”

Valerie stayed still, her hand brushing just slightly against Judy’s leg under the table.

“I...” Judy’s jaw worked for a moment. “I disappointed a lot of people in my life, Panam. But them? That one still burns. So no… I didn’t tell them about Sera. And I don’t think I ever will.”

Panam didn’t speak right away. Just nodded slowly, eyes lowered, thumb grazing the rim of her mug. The silence that followed wasn’t uncomfortable. It just was. The kind that came after something honest.

Valerie finally shifted, leaning just a little closer to Judy, her voice steady but quiet.

“They didn’t lose you. They just refused to look.”

Judy let her fingers trail down Valerie’s arm before lacing their hands together beneath the table. She didn’t respond right away, but the grip said enough.

Panam exhaled, slowly through her nose. “Well… they’re missing out. Sera’s got two damn good moms. Doesn’t matter who sees it.”

The noise outside the tent was still going, boots scuffing gravel, kids yelling about rules nobody was following, the clang of a wrench dropped on metal, but inside, it felt still.

Valerie gave the smallest smile. “Thanks, Panam.”

Panam’s grin was softer now. “Don’t get used to the compliments. I’m still me.”

Judy laughed once, low and real. “Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Valerie leaned back just slightly, her eyes drifting toward the flap where sunlight pooled. “We should probably check on the chaos she’s left in her wake.”

Panam took another long sip of coffee. “Bet she’s already planning a dirtbike race without a license.”

Valerie raised a brow. “...We give out licenses?”

Panam smirked. “Not official ones.”

Judy stood first, tugging Valerie’s hand gently. “C’mon, Guapa. Let’s go see what our menace is up to.”

Valerie pushed to her feet with a soft groan and a lopsided grin. “Reckon we’ll need a bigger first aid kit.”

Panam stood as they did, brushing crumbs from her pants and taking one last swig of coffee before setting the mug back on the table with a quiet clink.

“Don’t worry about the clean-up,” she said, waving them off. “Family’s got it covered. Always does.”

Valerie gave her a tired grin. “Thanks. I owe you one.”

“You owe me at least four,” Panam shot back with a smirk. “But who’s counting?”

Judy looped her arm gently under Valerie’s, steadying her as they started toward the flap. Valerie didn’t protest, just leaned in close, arm wrapping around Judy’s waist like the weight of her wasn’t only in her leg. They stepped out together into the morning, warm air brushing against their skin, the scent of desert sun and engine grease curling around them like something familiar.

The camp had come alive fully now murmurs and laughter spilling between tents, tools clinking from the garage somewhere down the slope. But it was the movement by the solar panel that caught Judy’s eye first.

“There,” she murmured, nodding ahead.
Sera was just beyond the edge of the messhall, darting between the shadowed stretch of the tall panel and a cluster of supply crates, her red hair flying loose as she chased Sandra in a wide loop around the base. Sandra squealed, veering to the side and doubling back, both of them half-covered in dust and grinning like it was the first time either had gotten to just be a kid in ages.

“They’re fast,” Valerie murmured, watching with a quiet softness in her voice. “And fearless.”

Judy leaned in, shoulder brushing Valerie’s. “Kind of reminds me of someone.”

Valerie’s lips quirked. “If they knock that panel loose, I’m blaming you.”

Judy glanced at her, feigning scandal. “You’re the one with the clan-issued wrench, remember?”

Valerie gave a short laugh. “And the bum leg.”

Judy’s smirk didn’t waver. “Guess that makes me the one who has to run when it falls.”

Valerie bumped her gently with her hip. “Only fair.”

They stood like that for a moment longer, the desert wind tugging lightly at their hair, the sound of Sera’s laughter rising up into the sky like a song that had been waiting years to be sung.

Vicky was already posted nearby, half-reclined in a faded canvas chair beneath the partial shade of an old tarp rigged between two support poles. A half-empty mug balanced on the armrest, sunglasses pushed up into her dark curls. She had one leg propped on a cooler and a slow, amused look in her eyes as she tracked the girls looping around the solar array like it was a makeshift racetrack.

Valerie spotted the open chairs clustered near her two of them, angled just enough to catch the breeze but still within sight of the commotion.

She gave a nod toward the setup. “Mind if we join you for a bit? Need to keep an eye on our little outlaw before she climbs something she can’t get down from.”

Vicky looked over, her smirk deepening. “Long as you don’t mind the view.” She lifted her cup in a lazy salute before motioning to the chairs. “They’ve been at it for ten minutes. I figured if they broke something, I’d hear it.”

Judy let out a soft chuckle as she helped Valerie lower into the closest seat, then eased into the one beside her. “That’s real supervision. I respect it.”

Vicky shrugged with a grin. “I supervise with my ears. Like any good fixer.”

Valerie settled back, exhaling as she stretched her leg out carefully. “Are you always this hands-off?”

“When it works,” Vicky said, sipping her drink. “And hey Sandra hasn’t shoved anyone, which is a milestone.”

Judy glanced toward the girls again. “Seems like Sera found her second wind.”

“Mm.” Vicky’s voice softened just a bit. “More like she finally got to breathe.”

Valerie leaned back into the chair, arm resting loosely over the side as her eyes followed the loop Sera and Sandra made around the base of the panel boots kicking up little trails of dust, laughter carrying just far enough to pull a smile from her.

“She’s already got herself a best friend,” Valerie murmured, almost like she was still convincing herself it was real. “Didn’t take long.”

Judy watched them for a moment, then glanced over at Vicky, brow knit gently. “You notice that too, right? She was quiet this morning. Real shy when we first saw Sandra. But now she’s flying.”

Vicky nodded, setting her cup down with a soft clink on the armrest. Her tone dropped a little, not heavy, just thoughtful. “Saw it. That twitchy kind of pause. She didn’t know if she was allowed to step into it. A lotta kids that come through here wait for the catch. The part where somebody tells ’em it was too good to be true.”

Judy’s jaw tightened slightly, thumb rubbing across her knee. “She’s used to holding back.”

“She’s used to surviving,” Vicky said, voice low but steady. “Sandra though? She doesn’t do it halfway. She sees something hurting, she runs toward it. Just like her mom.”

Valerie’s smile tugged wider at that, bittersweet around the edges. “Guess they found each other right when they needed to.”

Vicky glanced out at the girls again, Sandra now pretending to fall, Sera stopping short and offering a hand that quickly turned into a tug-of-war. No hesitation, or fear.

“Yeah,” Vicky said. “They did.”

Judy shifted slightly in her chair, elbow brushing Valerie’s as she leaned in, voice low. “We’re not gonna be able to keep her in our sight much longer, huh.”

Valerie gave a soft huff through her nose, not quite a laugh. “I’m giving it a week before she’s halfway to planning her own trade run.”

Vicky grinned, lifting her cup again. “And Sandra’ll be right beside her, probably with a slingshot and a bag of pilfered camp snacks.”

Valerie’s gaze softened as she watched the girls collapse in a tangle of limbs near the base of the panel, breathless and laughing. “Not a bad way to start a life,” she murmured. “Not running. Not hiding. Just… being a kid.”

“Exactly how it should be,” Vicky said.

Judy’s fingers slipped between Valerie’s under the armrest. No words. Just warmth.

The sun had climbed a little higher by then, the light catching in Sera’s red hair as she flopped on the ground, arms spread wide like she owned every square inch of sky above her. Sandra flopped down beside her a second later, mimicking the pose.

Valerie tilted her head. “That one’s gonna get her into so much trouble.”

“She already has,” Vicky said with a smirk. “And they’re only ten minutes in.”

They sat like that a while longer, just the three of them watching the girls tumble and sprawl beneath the rising sun. No rush to move. No need to speak. Just the low hum of camp waking up around them, and the easy rhythm of something that finally felt like family.

Engines flared somewhere near the edge of camp two, maybe three bikes kicking up dust as they rumbled out toward the ridge line. Around them, the rhythm of the Aldecaldos had picked up: tents unzipped, conversations carrying low across the breeze, someone barking about a missing socket wrench near the mechanics rig.

Mitch came into view with a toolbox tucked under one arm, his sleeves rolled and a patch of oil already streaking one forearm. He spotted the girls circling the base of the tall solar panel and let out a short whistle.

"Hey, hey sun don’t shine better if you shake the panel loose," he called, good-natured as always. "Go cause trouble somewhere it doesn't cost us power, alright?"

Sera gave a sheepish wave. Sandra offered a dramatic salute before both darted off again, laughter trailing in their wake as they cut across the dirt toward the cluster of canvas chairs where Judy, Valerie, and Vicky had gathered.

Sera flopped beside Valerie without hesitation, dust still clinging to her knees, cheeks flushed from the run. “He didn’t say we couldn’t climb it,” she mumbled.

“Pretty sure he did,” Valerie said, brushing the back of her fingers gently across the top of her daughter's head. She smiled. “Looks like you already found your best friend.”

Sandra gave a little nod, still catching her breath, then eased onto the empty chair near Vicky’s side.

The wind picked up a bit, tugging at the canvas flaps of nearby tents. Across the way, someone revved an engine twice before it sputtered to life, one of the rigs pulling out toward the outer perimeter. Another set of boots pounded past a young runner hollering for spare filters while someone else hollered back with the wrong ones.

Valerie exhaled slowly, letting her shoulders relax against the back of the chair. “This is gonna sound soft, but… watching her laugh like that? It’s damn near sacred.”

Judy let her gaze drift toward Sera, catching how her shoulders weren’t tense anymore, how she shouted without glancing over her shoulder first. “Not soft. Just the part we never got to have.”

Vicky looked between them, but didn’t say anything right away. Just sipped from her mug.

Vicky finally lowered her mug, eyes drifting from the horizon back to the girls as they caught their breath. The wind kicked again, softer this time, stirring Sandra’s loose brown hair as she leaned back in the chair beside her mother.

Vicky raised a brow. “What happened to the rest of the gremlins? Thought you and the new kid would be neck-deep in a lizard hunt by now.”

Sandra glanced sideways at Sera, then back toward the solar panel like it held the rest of the story. “They came over at first,” she said, voice casual but edged with something firmer underneath. “Everything was fine until one of ‘em asked why Sera gets special treatment just for being an Alvarez.”

Valerie’s brow lifted. Judy’s dark brown eyes darkened just a shade.

Sandra shrugged, not looking at anyone in particular now. “Said it wasn’t fair. That she gets everything handed to her just ‘cause she’s your kid.” She picked at a loose thread on the chair’s armrest. “I told them that was dumb. She’s just Sera. That’s it. If they don’t get it, that’s their problem.”

Valerie leaned forward a little, her voice low. “You say that to them?”

Sandra nodded once. “Didn’t need to say it twice.”

Sera, cheeks still flushed from the run, looked down with a shy grin starting to bloom. “Then she tagged me and said if I was really just me, I better not lose. We kinda forgot where we were going after that.”

Judy reached over, brushing a lock of red hair off Sera’s face. “That sounds about right.”

Vicky let out a quiet breath, her gaze lingering on her daughter a moment longer before she gave Sandra’s knee a gentle pat. “Good answer, sweetheart.”

Valerie looked between them, her voice steady but soft. “You did good, both of you.”

Sera leaned into Valerie’s side a bit, like it was the most natural thing in the world. “I just didn’t want them thinking I was trying to be someone I’m not.”

“You’re not,” Valerie said, hand resting firm and warm over Sera’s. “You’re exactly who you need to be.”

From somewhere deeper in camp, a loud whoop rang out, probably someone finding the missing filter Mitch yelled about earlier. The sound made Sandra glance up, her shoulders relaxing again.

Vicky sipped her coffee. “Sounds like peace and quiet’s officially over.”

“Guess so,” Judy said, her voice light.

For the moment, none of them moved. The chairs, the morning sun, the quiet pride between them all held just a little longer.

Valerie turned slightly in her chair, the breeze tugging at a strand of her hair as she looked toward Sera, who was still watching the empty space where the other kids had scattered earlier.

“They’ll come around,” Valerie said, her voice sure and even. “You’re you. That’s more than enough.”

Sera gave a small nod, not quite smiling, but something in her shoulders eased.

Sandra straightened up beside her. “Hey… have you ever played hopscotch?”

Sera blinked. “Hop-what?”

Sandra grinned. “We got a makeshift board behind the tents, old pizza boxes taped together. And there’s jump ropes too. I’ll show you.”

Sera’s eyebrows rose, like it was some strange ritual she wasn’t sure how to take seriously, but she stood anyway. “Alright, but if it turns out this is secretly training, I’m telling Mama.”

Sandra laughed, already skipping backward. “Come on! It’s a game, not a mission.”

The girls darted off between the tents, dust kicking up behind their boots as they disappeared around the bend of canvas and rope. A whoop of laughter trailed after them.

Vicky watched them go, smiling into her cup. “You probably didn’t notice last night, but Sandra and I are camped just next door to your tent.”

Judy glanced toward her. “That’s good. Might be nice for Sera to have a neighbor who gets it.”

There was a pause. Then Judy’s voice softened. “Do you… have anyone?”

Vicky’s smile lingered, but her eyes fell to the rim of her cup. For a beat, all that moved was the dust catching in a gust of wind.

“I did,” she said quietly. “Her name was Samantha. My wife.” She took a small breath. “We were part of the assault team that ran support on the Mikoshi breach. She… didn’t make it back.”

Valerie leaned back slowly into her chair, elbows on the armrests, letting the weight of that settle before she spoke.

“A lot of good people died to help me. I’m sorry Samantha was one of them.”

Vicky looked over at her, steady and calm. “It’s okay. Really. I already made peace with it. I still have Sandra.” Her eyes flicked toward the distant laughter. “And that means everything now.”

The three of them sat in silence for a moment, not heavy, just full. In the distance, a soft thunk of something landing on cardboard echoed between tent walls, followed by the sound of Sera shouting, “Wait, what number was I on?!”

Judy smiled. “Sounds like hopscotch’s goin’ well.”

Vicky laughed under her breath. “She’ll learn. Sera’s a good teacher.”

Valerie didn’t say anything, just watched the spot where Sera had disappeared, the sunlight catching faint in her emerald eyes.

The sun crept higher behind the ridge, casting long fingers of light through the canvas shadows. Around the camp, the bustle had eased into a steadier rhythm, engines cooling, tools clinking into crates, the occasional laugh rising and falling in the warm air.

Vicky leaned forward in her chair, arms braced loosely on her knees, her gaze trailing off in the direction the girls had run. “It’s hard to believe,” she said after a quiet beat. “Just a few days ago, Sandra could barely speak without crying. She didn’t want to eat, didn’t want to sleep, didn’t want to talk to anyone but me. That was the hardest part. Watching her fold into herself.” She exhaled, steadying her voice. “Feels good, seeing her this happy again.”

Judy’s brow furrowed gently, her fingers laced around her hands. “Before Sera found us,” she said slowly, “she told us her mom Sindy was taken. She was alone for two weeks. Surviving on scraps, hiding from every noise. She said it like a fact, like she’d accepted it, but…”

She trailed off a moment, then continued. “I’m not sure if she really let herself feel it. Part of me thinks… she still believes Sindy’s out there somewhere. Like she’s not ready to grieve it fully.”

Valerie nodded slightly, her voice softer now. “Maybe that’s what pulled them together so quickly. They’ve both got this hollow spot in their chest, and they’re trying to fill it the only way they can with someone who gets it.”

Vicky let that settle, then gave a quiet hum. “Maybe so. Sandra’s always been careful about who she lets in. But Sera? That wasn’t careful. That was instinct.”

Judy glanced toward the sound of faint laughter behind the tents, a flash of movement visible just past the corner Sandra’s voice rising above Sera’s in a triumphant shout. She smiled faintly. “Instinct’s not always a bad way to find your people.”

Valerie shifted her weight, careful of her leg, and let her gaze linger in that direction too. “Feels like they found something we never got at that age. Not family that breaks you. Family that lets you be who you are.”

Vicky didn’t say anything to that, just nodded, the lines around her mouth softening.

The breeze rolled through again, stirring the corners of the tent flaps and carrying the sound of children’s feet slapping dirt. For a moment, it didn’t feel like the aftermath of a war. It felt like the start of something real.

Vicky gave one last glance toward where the girls had disappeared behind the tents, a small smile tugging at her lips.

“Feels good to talk,” she said, standing and brushing the dust off her pants with a quick swipe. “But I should check in on some fixer contracts before it gets too late. Still a few trades I need to vet, and one merc who thinks expired medtech still counts as high-value stock.” She rolled her eyes. “I’ll be in the tech truck if Sandra becomes too much of a handful.”

Judy gave a soft chuckle. “We’ll try not to send her back covered in motor oil.”

Valerie leaned back in her chair just enough to catch the light in her freckled cheek. “No promises. They’re already one solar panel away from rewiring the grid.”

Vicky gave them a mock salute. “Guess I better brace for that call, then. I’ll see you both tonight.”

They watched her go, the corner of the camp shifting back into its familiar rhythm, wrenches clinking, fabric rustling, the murmur of morning work rolling into mid-afternoon heat.

Valerie waited until Vicky rounded the corner, then exhaled through her nose. Her hand drifted to her left leg, rubbing just above the bandaged line before she started easing herself upright.

Judy turned, instinct already pulling her halfway out of her seat. “You sure?”

Valerie nodded, pushing slowly to her feet. “Yeah. Just wanna get some movement back in. I feel like I’ve been planted in that damn chair all morning.”

She wobbled slightly, catching her balance with one hand on the armrest. Judy reached out reflexively, but Valerie gave her a quick look not sharp, just steady. “I got it.”

Judy let her hand fall but stayed close, her brow still knit with quiet concern.

Valerie tested her weight with a few careful steps forward, limping but upright, her spine straightening bit by bit as she found her pace.

“Not pretty,” she muttered under her breath. “But it’s walking.”

Judy stepped in beside her, close enough to catch her if she stumbled but not enough to hover. “It’s better than pretty, Val. It’s progress.”

Valerie gave a dry smirk, her emerald eyes scanning the far edge of camp. “C’mon. Let’s see what this place looks like when I’m horizontal.”

Slowly, the two of them started off between the tents, the ground warm beneath their boots, the camp shifting around them like it had space for one more morning to breathe.

Valerie eased her weight onto her good leg as the girls disappeared behind the tents again, their laughter scattering on the wind like sparks off chrome. She let out a small breath, one hand tucked at her lower back as the movement stretched the stiffness from her hip.

Judy stayed close, the morning breeze catching just enough of her hair to send the green and pink strands brushing her cheek. She didn’t bother tucking them back, just smiled sidelong at Valerie. “One more day,” she said gently, “then the stitches come out. Maybe your body can finally start healing properly.”

Valerie’s eyes stayed forward, tracking the way a few Aldecaldos worked through their morning rituals tightening rig bolts, loading supplies, calling out missing tools like it was some sacred rite of passage. She nodded once. “It’ll be the start. Doesn’t get me all the way back, but… it’s something. Reclaiming a little piece.”

Judy gave her hand a soft squeeze, thumb brushing her knuckle. “Every piece counts.”

Then came the sudden squeal from behind the tents a sharp burst of laughter and two high-pitched screams, not panicked but energized. Valerie turned just in time to catch a blur of red and brown hair racing across the path.

Sera and Sandra barreled out from behind the flap, darting like they had jetpacks strapped to their backs. Close behind them came two boys both a little older, one of them gripping a squirming lizard in both hands with the triumphant cry of someone wielding a holy relic.

“Get it away from me!” Sera shouted between fits of laughter, dodging right behind Judy and practically using her as a shield. “That thing’s got claws!”

Sandra zipped the other direction cackling. “I told you not to dare him!”

Valerie burst out laughing, steadying herself on Judy’s arm. “Guess that’s what we get for hoping the quiet would last.”

Judy smirked, brushing dust off her sleeve where Sera had crashed into her. “You think the other kids gave her a full camp tour… or just introduced her to their weirdest hobbies first?”

“Both,” Valerie said, still smiling as the four kids tore off again toward the far edge of the encampment. “Definitely both.”

The two of them kept walking, the rhythm of the camp pulsing gently around them. The air carried the scent of motor grease, coffee dregs, and that sharp dry ozone from one of the charging stations warming up. For now, the morning still belonged to them, and to the kids who were already making it their own.

Judy’s grin curved wide as the kids vanished into the open garage bay, the distant metallic clatter followed by a loud, echoing shout.

“Well,” she said, squinting toward the noise. “She’s either making a couple new friends or a few lifelong rivals.”

Valerie leaned slightly into her, both of them slowing just enough to listen.

“Holy shit!” came Sera’s unmistakable voice, bouncing out from the hangar with awe and zero hesitation.

Judy stifled a laugh behind her hand. “That didn’t take long.”

Valerie smirked, already knowing. “If she comes running back here with a hundred questions, I’m sending her straight to Panam.”

Judy chuckled. “Hopefully she doesn’t try to get inside it.”

“If she does,” Valerie shrugged, savoring the stretch across her shoulders, “we’ll let Carol handle it. Kinda enjoying my walk right now.”

A beat later, Sandra’s voice rang out sharp and panicked. “Sera, get down from there! You’re gonna get us in trouble!”

Then came the unmistakable bark of Carol’s voice half scolding, half trying not to laugh as she chased the girls out of the garage with the two boys hot on their heels.

Valerie and Judy didn’t even flinch as the whirlwind of limbs, dust, and breathless shouting zipped past them down the path.

Sera and Sandra took the lead, shrieking as they made a hard turn toward the Alvarez tent, ducking past crates and slipping under the half-unzipped flap in one smooth, practiced blur. The boys called after them but peeled off toward the center of camp instead.

Valerie rolled her eyes, still smiling. “Guess we’ll check on them… after I finish this loop.”

Judy nudged her gently. “Alright, mi amor. But if they dismantled your guitar or tried to ride our cot like it’s the rig…”

Valerie gave her a sideways look, lips quirking. “Then I’ll need more than a walk to calm down.”

Judy grinned. “We’ll check the damage later. Maybe Sera started a band. Stranger things have happened.”

Valerie breathed in the desert air, the warm dust and distant hum of clan life settling somewhere deep in her chest. “As long as she didn’t strap the amplifier to the solar panel, I’ll count it as a win.”

Judy laughed under her breath. “You’re such a mom already.”

Valerie just shrugged, her limp steady but determined. “Still got a little walk left in me. Let’s not waste it.”

They kept walking. A few more engines revved somewhere out near the patrol lanes. A breeze stirred the edge of the tents, kicking up dust and that quiet, sun-warmed rhythm that only came with a camp that had survived everything and still woke up swinging.

In that rhythm, the two of them moved slowly shoulder to shoulder, one limp steadying out with every step knowing full well the day wasn’t done giving them reasons to smile.

They kept walking. A few more engines revved somewhere out near the patrol lanes. A breeze stirred the edge of the tents, kicking up dust and that quiet, sun-warmed rhythm that only came with a camp that had survived everything and still woke up swinging.

In that rhythm, the two of them moved slowly shoulder to shoulder, one limp steadying out with every step, knowing full well the day wasn’t done giving them reasons to smile.

Valerie tipped her chin toward the back edge of camp. “Let’s cut around the rigs. See if the generator’s still rattling.”

Judy nodded, keeping pace beside her, close enough that their arms brushed. “Do you think anyone's dared to touch the toolkit since last time?”

Valerie smirked faintly. “If they did, we’ll hear the swearing by lunch.”

They turned along the path, shadows stretching behind them. Somewhere inside the Alvarez tent, laughter broke again Sera’s voice sharp with victory, Sandra’s just behind her.

Neither of them rushed. The sound carried, warm as the light catching the ridge.

The breeze rolled up dry from the south, carrying dust across the edge of camp and sweeping through the canvas seams. Judy slipped her arm around Valerie’s waist, fingers resting gently just above the bandages. As they walked, a few strands of red hair lifted across Valerie’s freckled cheek, wind-tossed and sunlit. She leaned her head softly against Judy’s shoulder, her limp easing slightly with the steadiness beside her.

They didn’t say anything at first. Just walked the outer edge, the tents thinning behind them as the vast shape of the Arizona Badlands unfolded past the ridge flat ochre stretches, rocky outcrops, and distant plateaus that shimmered at the edge of the heat haze.

Judy smiled quietly, eyes scanning the horizon. “Doesn’t look like much,” she murmured. “But it’s… I don’t know. It’s beautiful out here.”

Valerie took a breath, slow and careful. “It does,” she agreed, her voice low. “But don’t let it fool you. The Badlands out here… they’re worse than what we saw outside Night City. The moment we step outside camp, there’s no safety net. No favors. Other Clans might see us as targets. Fugitives. Some of ’em wouldn’t think twice about selling us out.”

Judy didn’t flinch. She turned her head slightly, kissed Valerie’s temple. “I know, Val. I’ve been feeling your fear through the Link,” she said gently. “Ever since this morning. Especially with that medicine run coming up. Phoenix isn’t exactly friendly territory.”

Valerie’s shoulder dipped in a half-shrug, her voice tight. “If I wasn’t so damn weak, I could help. No chrome, no armor, just dragging my leg around like a damn anchor.” She huffed. “Even without the mods, I’d be busting heads and clearing gigs like nobody’s business. You know I would.”

Judy’s smile was soft but steady. “I know. You don’t have to prove anything to me.” She glanced sideways, her hand gently rubbing along Valerie’s back. “You’ll get there. Right now, let me handle it.”

Valerie leaned up just enough to kiss Judy’s shoulder, lips brushing the faded cotton of her tank top. “You’re too good to me, Jude.”

Judy let the silence hold for a second, then spoke, her voice barely above the wind. “We promised each other forever. No matter the cost.”

Valerie didn’t answer right away, just pressed in a little closer as they reached the slope back toward their tent. Inside, they could hear Sera’s voice, high and animated, showing Sandra something in her sketchbook. The words were muffled by the fabric, but the energy behind them came through clear. Laughing, no hesitation. The kind of joy that didn’t fake easily.

Valerie smiled faintly. “We have to keep that promise to her now too.”

Judy nodded, her arm still tight around Valerie’s waist. “Yeah,” she said softly. “We do. It’s not gonna be easy…”

“But,” Valerie finished, letting the air settle around them, “we’ll figure it out.”

They stood there a moment longer, just outside the flap, before the sound of Sera laughing pulled them gently forward again.

Valerie ducked slightly as they stepped through the half-unzipped tent flap, the light shifting from desert glare to the dim warmth of canvas and sun-filtered dust. Inside, the space felt smaller now, but in the best way. Sandra sat cross-legged on the floor near the crates, watching intently as Sera flipped through a worn sketchbook on her lap.

“…and that one was supposed to be a car,” Sera was saying, jabbing a thumb at a page filled with jagged lines and smudged graphite. “But the engine turned into a dragon halfway through. So, I just kinda went with it.”

Sandra grinned. “Looks like it’s breathing exhaust fire.”

“Yeah. So Cool..” Sera looked up, spotting them. Her face lit up like it always did when Valerie and Judy came into the room, that slight breath of comfort she didn’t quite know she was drawing yet. “Hey! I was showing Sandra my stuff.”

Valerie leaned against one of the folding chairs with a soft grunt, easing her weight off the bad leg. “From the sounds of it, she’s getting the full tour.”

Judy stepped over and crouched near the girls, letting her arm brush gently against Sera’s. “Are you always this proud of your work, Starshine?”

Sera shrugged, just a little bashful. “Didn’t really have anyone to show it to before.”

Valerie’s smile flickered across her face, soft, but real. “Well, you do now.”

Sandra turned another page, tapping the corner. “This one’s cool. What’s that?”

“Oh, that?” Sera grinned. “That was supposed to be armor. I was bored and figured if I ever got to build something, I’d want it to have claws.”

Judy laughed under her breath. “Definitely your kid.”

Valerie smirked. “We’ll get her to sketch a prototype for The Racer next. Rig could use a few dragon mods.”

Sera perked up. “Wait, really?”

“We’ll see,” Judy said, bumping her gently. “Maybe after chores.”

The girls both groaned in unison, but neither moved to argue.

Valerie sat down on the edge of her cot, watching the way Sera’s posture had shifted shoulders looser, legs stretched out without tension. No bag beside her this time. No shoes half-laced for a quick escape. Just a quiet presence. That same breath of safety from earlier, still holding.

Judy turned her head slightly, catching Valerie’s eye across the room. No words. Just a look. One that said it all.

They were doing alright.

Judy rubbed her hands together with mock seriousness, glancing toward the modest pile of dirty clothes near the tent flap. "Alright, today’s chores are laundry… especially since Sera’s clothes are threatening a hostile takeover."

That earned a loud laugh from both Sera and Sandra.

Judy grinned. "We also need to restock the drink and snack cooler before the heat turns everything to soup."

Valerie shifted slightly, resting one hand against her knee as she looked toward Sera. "Hey, if you want, we can hang a sheet up between the cots. Give you some privacy. Pull it open or closed whenever you want space."

Sera nodded, still smiling. "Sounds good, Mom."

Judy had already crouched near a bundle of gear, pulling out a few lightweight metal rods she’d scrounged the week before. As she began piecing together a frame for a makeshift drying rack outside the tent, she glanced over at Sandra.

"Think you can show Sera where the wash buckets and boards are in the shower truck? And bring back one filled with water and soap?"

Sandra gave a little salute. "We got it."

Sera flexed both arms dramatically. "I can carry it."

Valerie chuckled as she braced herself to stand, leaning on the chair before rising fully. She began gathering the dirty clothes, careful with her posture, and dropped the bundle near the rack Judy had set up.

A few minutes passed before the girls returned, Sandra grinning and holding open the tent flap as Sera groaned under the weight of the full bucket.

"Told you it was heavy," Sandra teased.

"Nah," Sera huffed, grinning proudly. "Totally fine. Just... upper-body day."

Judy motioned for her to kneel down beside the basin. "Come on, mi cielo. I’ll show you how to use the board. You want to scrub with the grain, not against it, and rinse clean before wringing it out."

They got to work. The rhythm came naturally: Sera washed and scrubbed with growing confidence, Valerie stood nearby hanging clothes gently on the metal frame Judy had built. The breeze tugged at sleeves and hems, the desert sun already beginning to dry the fabric.

Judy, wiping her hands on her pants, picked up the empty cooler and turned to Sandra. "Ready to help me restock this thing?"

Sandra nodded quickly, and together the two walked off toward the mess hall tent, disappearing behind a row of sun-bleached tarps.

Time passed, marked only by the sway of drying clothes and the quiet, steady motion of hands working side by side.

Eventually, Judy returned carrying the cooler now heavy with fresh bottles of water, ration bars, and neatly packed trail mix. Sandra followed behind, a bag slung over her shoulder.

"Brought lunch," she called ahead, lifting the bag. "Hope you like sandwiches."

Valerie looked up from where she was pinning a pair of pants. "If it’s not scorched or expired, it’s gourmet."

Sera stood up, wiping her damp hands on her shorts. "Bet it tastes better after all this work."

Judy set the cooler down and ruffled her hair. "Welcome to camp life, Starshine."

Valerie was breathing harder than she wanted to admit, the last shirt pinned to the drying rack swaying lightly in the heat. She let out a slow breath and eased herself down onto the folding chair just inside the tent’s shade.

"Okay," she managed, voice a little winded but still teasing. "Perfect time for lunch."

Judy dusted her hands and stepped back from the drying rack. "I’ll hang the sheet after we eat," she said, glancing toward the bundle of fabric and rods leaning near the back cot.

Sera, kneeling beside the cooler, twisted around. "How long do the clothes stay out there?"

"In this heat?" Judy said, grabbing a bottle of water and passing it over. "Should be dry in about an hour. Maybe less."

Sandra crouched beside her pack, unzipping the top and pulling out a small brown bag. She reached in and started handing out sandwiches, wrapped in reused foil, and small paper bags of chips.

She smiled at Valerie as she passed one over. "Judy told me what you liked."

Then she turned to Sera, handing her a sandwich with a slight shrug. "We kinda guessed what you like. Hope it’s close."

Sera grinned. "As long as it’s not fried slug chips, we’re good."

They settled into a comfortable sprawl, sitting cross-legged or propped against the cots as the midday sun beat down outside, heat still creeping through the fabric of the tent. The breeze barely cut it, but the food helped ground the moment.

Judy had just taken a bite when something clenched tight behind her ribcage. A pulse, not hers. Not quite pain yet, but the beginning of it through The Link. Her hand dropped her sandwich onto the foil and she was already reaching for the first aid kit.

"Val."

Valerie hadn’t moved much, but her jaw was tight. Her emerald eyes squinted just slightly, one hand pressed lightly to her temple.

"I got it," she whispered, though the strain was clear. "Just…a little dizzy. Ears are ringing."

Judy knelt beside her, hands practiced now as she popped the lid on the pill bottle. Her heart skipped when she saw how few were left, only two.

"Hold on, breathe with me," she murmured, pressing the pill into Valerie’s palm and guiding her water bottle up.

Valerie swallowed it, wincing slightly as the bitter taste hit. "I think I overdid it with the walk. Laundry didn’t help."

Judy didn’t let go, her hand curled around Valerie’s back to steady her. The hum of the camp faded a little as they waited, the seconds long and tense. Slowly, Valerie’s shoulders eased. The worst hadn’t come, but it had gotten close.

Sandra shifted forward a little, her eyes wide but calm. "Hope you’ll be okay, Mrs. Alvarez."

Valerie blinked and gave a small, tired smile. "Thank you, Sandra. I will be. Just... working through it."

The pill took hold, the nanites doing what they could. Judy stayed close until Valerie’s breathing returned to something even.

Outside, the wind caught the edge of the drying shirt. Inside, the four of them began to eat again, quiet, gentle, the kind of silence that didn’t need filling. There’d be more to do after lunch, but for now, they were still together. Still steady.

After a few minutes, lunch was finished. Sera and Sandra helped gather the scattered wrappers and napkins, giggling as they bumped shoulders on their way out of the tent to toss it all. Their voices trailed off down the path, fading into the midday camp noise.

Valerie leaned over with a soft groan, one hand finding Judy’s cheek. Her fingers were warm, a little unsteady, but still sure. She pulled Judy close and kissed her gently, slow and tired. When she pulled back, her voice barely rose above a breath.

“I could use a nap.”

Judy brushed a strand of red hair away from Valerie’s temple, nodding. “Let’s get you down, then.”

She stood and carefully helped Valerie sit back, easing the weight off her legs. One boot, then the other Judy slid them off and set them aside before tugging the blanket up across Valerie’s waist. Valerie exhaled, body relaxing into the cot like it had been waiting for this moment to finally let go.

Judy ran her fingers slowly through the soft waves of Valerie’s red hair, smoothing it back behind her ear. “I need to make a run to Phoenix. Gotta get more medicine. I’ll be back by nightfall.”

Valerie blinked, a small flicker of protest forming in her brow. “Jude…”

But Judy gently pressed a finger over her lips. “Shhh. Just rest, mi amor. I’ll get the family to help.”

Valerie’s shoulders slumped, not in defeat, just trust. Her voice came softer this time. “I know I can trust you, Jude… I just wish I could be out there with you.”

Judy kissed her forehead and whispered into her hair. “I’d want nothing more. But right now? You rest. Let me handle this.”

Valerie gave the faintest smile as her eyes drifted shut. “Be safe…”

“I will,” Judy whispered, watching her breathing settle. She lingered a moment, fingers still resting near Valerie’s shoulder, then finally pulled away when she was sure the worst of the pain had faded.

She grabbed the folded sheet they kept for privacy and stepped quietly to the divider poles, starting to hook the corners into place just as the flap rustled and the girls returned.

Sera spotted her first and stepped closer. “You need help with that?”

Judy smiled and finished pinning the last edge. “I’ve got it. Actually, I need you for something else.”

Sera tilted her head. “What’s up?”

Judy crouched down, steady, hand resting lightly on Sera’s shoulder. “I need to head into Phoenix. Your mom’s running low on medicine.”

Sera’s eyes widened a little. “Is she okay?”

“She will be. Just remember if she starts getting dizzy, or says her head’s ringing… grab the first aid kit. There’s two thin red pills left. Slide one under her tongue, and help her drink water slowly.”

Sera took a breath, nodding. “Okay. I can do that.”

Judy hugged her gently. “I know you can. Just keep her steady, Starshine. I’ll be back before sunset.”

Sera held on a second longer, and looked up at her. “Be safe, Mama.”

Judy smiled, heart caught for a second in her throat. “Always, mi cielo.”

Judy wrapped her arms around Sera a little tighter for a second, her voice low against the girl’s ear. “You’ve already done more than most, Starshine. Just keep her safe 'til I get back.”

Sera nodded against her shoulder, jaw set but emerald eyes soft. “I will.”

Judy lingered in the hug with another heartbeat, then let go and stepped back with a quiet breath. She turned toward the stack of crates near the tent’s edge, grabbing her sidearm from where she’d left it sitting atop the tarp #1 Crush, polished and waiting. The familiar weight settled across her hip as she fastened the holster into place, the strap clicking closed.

Sandra, standing nearby with her hands half-shoved in the pockets of her pants, looked up. “My mom might be able to help. If anyone knows where to find what you need, it’s her.”

Judy paused, then gave her a grateful smile. “Thanks, Sandra. I’ll go see her.”

She looked once more toward Valerie sleeping now, chest rising steady under the blanket, and then toward Sera, standing quietly beside the cot. She nodded once, then turned and stepped through the tent flap.

The light outside was brighter than before, sunlight filtering through the canvas and dust in soft, gold beams. Camp life moved in a steady rhythm, engines idling in the distance, the occasional shout from a mechanic, and someone already working on lunch cleanup near the mess tent.

As Judy walked, she passed a couple Aldecaldos lounging on a beat-up couch near one of the side tents. One of them strummed a battered acoustic, fingers lazy and half-tuned, humming something soft and low. It pulled something tight in Judy’s chest.

She missed hearing Valerie play.

She didn’t slow, though. Just kept walking, boots crunching against the grit and sand, until the outline of the tech truck came into view, metal siding dull under the sun, relay dishes casting long shadows across the top. The comm antennae ticked softly as the wind moved through them, static bouncing off the roof and disappearing into the sky.

Judy climbed the short metal steps, pushed the door open, and slipped inside.

The temperature dropped slightly in the shade of the truck’s interior. Server towers lined one wall, humming low beside a workbench scattered with open circuit boards and half-finished drone chassis. Vicky sat at a console toward the front, jacket slung over the back of her chair, a half-eaten sandwich beside a steaming mug.

She didn’t look up at first, fingers still tapping across a terminal, but she smirked when Judy’s boots hit the floor.

“Sandra being too much of a pain already?”

Judy let the door fall shut behind her. “Not at all. She’s sweet. Helpful, even.”

Vicky leaned back, folding her arms behind her head. “Huh. Guess she didn’t inherit that part from me.”

Judy offered a tired smile, but didn’t return the tease. “I need your help.”

That got Vicky’s full attention. She straightened, turning to face her fully. “What kind of help?”

Judy stepped closer, brushing a strand of green-pink hair behind her ear. “It’s Valerie. She’s got neuro-spike episodes and bad ones. There’s pills that stabilize her. Thin red tabs, neuro-inhibitors with trace nanite triggers. But she’s almost out. I’ve only got two left.”

Vicky didn’t respond right away. She drummed her fingers lightly on the edge of the desk, eyes narrowing. “That kind of med… Snake Nation territory. They’re the only ones smuggling that class of inhibitor this far south.”

Judy froze, her pulse jumping. “Who runs their trade routes?”

Vicky hesitated, then said it with a sigh. “Kassidy Vasquez. Real piece of work. Keeps tight control on Phoenix distribution drugs, tech, exo-parts. If Snake Nation has the pills you need, it’s ‘cause they lifted ‘em off a NUSA convoy.”

Judy rubbed her face. “Did you just say Kassidy Vasquez?”

Vicky’s brows lifted. “Yeah. Why?”

Judy exhaled slowly, every inch of her body tensing with the weight of memory. “Because Kassidy is Valerie’s ex.”

Vicky leaned forward slightly. “Shit.”

Judy gave a dry, bitter laugh. “Yeah. And now my wife’s life might depend on her bitter ex-girlfriend with a penchant for power plays and blackmail. That’s just great.”

Vicky nodded once, lips tight. “Then you better get your game face on, Alvarez. If you’re dealing with Kassidy, this ain’t gonna be a trade. It’s gonna be a negotiation with teeth.”

Judy's jaw clenched as she stared past the glowing terminal, dark brown eyes unfocused. “Then I better not show up empty-handed.”

Judy stayed quiet for a second, arms crossed as she processed. The warmth of the tech truck felt colder, somehow metal walls humming with the buzz of too many ifs. Vicky watched her a beat longer, then pushed away from the desk, reaching for her mug.

“Dante should be able to help,” she said, voice even. “Normally around this time, he’s up at the command RV with Panam. Taking reports, checking movement logs.”

Judy looked up, the edge of urgency softening just slightly. “You’re right. If anyone knows how Snake Nation moves, it’s him. He used to ride with the Bakkers, back before they splintered.”

Vicky nodded once. “He’ll know what kind of heat you’re walking into. What routes are bad, where their eyes might be. Might even have an idea how to deal with Kassidy without handing her blood or credits.”

Judy gave a small, grateful smile. “Thanks, Vicky.”

“Hey,” Vicky said, lifting her mug as Judy turned to go. “Take care of her. Both of them.”

Judy nodded once, then stepped back out into the sunlight.

The heat hit her first dry, unwavering, but she didn’t slow. Her boots found the rhythm of camp again: the shuffle of tarp underfoot, the clink of tools, a voice calling out a code check near the towers. She cut across the worn path behind the comm tent and rounded the edge of a solar stack. The north end of camp came into view, rising just slightly on a slope of packed red dirt.

The command RV sat perched above the others, painted matte grey with streaks of sun-faded blue striping across the sides. It had once been part of a city convoy judging by the reinforced windows and communication ports, but now it bore Aldecaldo markings across the rear door and a welded frame around the roof where newer antennas poked toward the sky.

Judy adjusted her holster, heart steadying as she climbed the narrow step. The low murmur of voices reached her just before she knocked: Dante’s rough tone mixing with Panam’s sharper cadence familiar, grounded.

She didn’t wait long. From inside, the door clicked, and Dante’s broad silhouette filled the frame. His eyes scanned Judy’s face, then dropped briefly to the pistol on her hip.

“Something tells me this ain’t a social visit,” he said, stepping aside.

Judy stepped in, the door shutting behind her with a quiet latch. “I need a favor. Big one.”

Panam turned from the holotable, brow already arched. “This about Val?”

Judy nodded. “It’s bad. I need help getting something… and I think Snake Nation’s sitting on it.” She paused. “And Kassidy Vasquez.”

Panam let out a breath. “Shit.”

Dante looked between them, already shifting into motion. “Tell me everything.”

Panam leaned against the corner of the holotable, arms crossed, her brow knitting tight. “Vasquez doesn’t just trade in meds. If she’s got something useful, she guards it close.”

Judy nodded. “Vicky said the meds might’ve come from a NUSA raid Snake Nation intercepted. If that’s true… they’ll be scarce. Valuable.”

Dante let out a quiet breath through his nose, tugging the toothpick from the corner of his mouth. “She’ll want something big in return. Not caps or fuel. Leverage. And Kassidy ain’t the forgiving type.”

“She and Valerie…” Judy hesitated. “It ended badly. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Val flinch around someone, but she still won’t talk much about her. And now I’ve got to deal with her. For medicine.”

Panam’s voice was lower now, steadier. “You’re not going in alone.”

Judy’s gaze met hers. “I have to. Can’t risk bringing a team in, not with the patrols that deep and half the other clans sniffing for bounty. If Kassidy sees a crew, she’ll bolt or worse.”

Dante folded his arms across his chest, jaw set. “Then you’ll need a clean way in. I know a route through the northern irrigation tunnels. Old Bakker trade path. Still on the map, but no one’s used it in a couple years. Should keep you off Snake Nation’s usual watch.”

Judy nodded slowly, filing it away. “Any idea how to approach her without losing control of the deal?”

He gave her a long look. “Keep it personal. Don’t posture. Kassidy respects direct, not desperate. If she smells fear, she’ll bleed you dry.”

Judy gave a small nod of gratitude. “Thanks, both of you. I just… I can’t let Valerie keep burning up like this. I can feel it through the Link every time she stiffens, every time the pain spikes.”

Panam pushed off the table and walked toward the cabinet by the side wall, pulling out a small steel canister and placing it in Judy’s hand. “Take this. Field stim. If you have to buy time with her, that’ll buy you minutes.”

Dante stepped beside her, scribbling something on a scrap of laminate with a grease pen. “Map coordinates. Tunnel access point. Don’t miss it. If Snake Nation spots you early…”

“I won’t,” Judy said, tucking the scrap into her pocket. “I’m not leaving Sera to watch over her for longer than I have to.”

Panam gave her a rare, warm glance. “We’ll keep watch while you’re gone. You make the deal… we’ll make sure the camp’s still standing when you get back.”

Judy gave a quiet, breath-steadying nod. “Alright. Guess I’ve got a rendezvous with a devil.”

With that, she stepped out into the heat again, sun riding high overhead, boots already moving toward the edge of camp and whatever price Kassidy Vasquez was going to name.

The sun was just tipping past midday, casting long spines of light between the solar towers and tents. Judy adjusted the holster across her hip, hand brushing the grip of #1 Crush as she made her way down the main path. A few Aldecaldos she passed gave her short nods, one offering a two-finger salute from under a lifted hood. She returned it with a small smile, not stopping.

When she reached the shaded side of the Alvarez tent, her pace slowed. The Racer sat steady beside it, dust flecked across the solar grille like freckles across steel. Her fingers trailed the edge of the panel as she moved past it, breathing in the smell of sun-warmed metal and old leather inside the frame.

From the tent’s flap, she caught the soft rhythm of Sera’s voice, slow and stumbling over a few words but reading. “...and the stars didn’t look so far that night,” Sera said, quiet but clear.

Sandra’s voice came next, smaller, curious. “Why didn’t she just go after them?”

“Because,” Sera said, as if quoting Valerie herself, “some things are meant to be seen before they’re caught.”

Judy’s chest ached in that quiet, full way. She let the moment hold before pressing her palm lightly to the rig’s door and climbing inside.

The interior still held Valerie’s scent of leather and copper, faint old perfume that clung to her jacket when she played late into the night. One of the guitar hooks still had a red pick hanging from it. A sun-faded photo strip had fallen between the seats: three shots of the two of them in a dusty booth, Valerie biting Judy’s ear in one, both of them laughing in another. She tucked it safely into the glove box.

The engine turned over low and steady, like a promise. Judy set her route, double-checked the note from Dante, and slid her comms headset in place not to call anyone, just to keep the quiet at bay. Through the Link, Valerie was still resting easily. No tremors, no pain. Just warmth.

Judy tapped the dash once.

“Alright, Racer,” she muttered. “Let’s get what she needs.”

Then she pulled away from the camp, tires kicking up a thin curtain of dust as she cut toward the north road toward tunnels, Vasquez, and whatever she had to barter to bring those red pills home.

The desert unfolded ahead in long bands of rust and gold, heat shimmer rising off the broken pavement where old highways once clung to relevance. Judy drove with both hands steady on the wheel, the engine of The Racer humming low, tuned to cruise without complaint. The occasional jolt of uneven road shook through the frame, but she barely noticed. Her mind stayed tethered to the Link, that quiet thread connecting her to Valerie. Still peaceful. Still asleep.

The deeper she drove, the thinner the traces of civilization became old signage weathered blank, husks of burned-out cars long since picked clean. It was the kind of silence only the Badlands could offer: sharp, wide, and honest. Judy let herself feel it.

The junction Dante had marked came up fast just past a split in the hills, where a rock outcropping shielded a rusted fuel station turned smuggler post. She dropped the rig into a lower gear, eased toward the edge where a small group of bikes sat clustered like wolves around a carcass. No colors flying, but the Snake Nation didn’t need a banner to announce themselves.

Judy pulled the rig to a stop, kicked the brake, and stepped out slow one hand resting casual on her hip, just near the holster of #1 Crush. She didn’t draw, and didn't need to. Yet.

A man lounged on one of the bikes, toothpick in his mouth and sunglasses too big for his face. He glanced up at her but didn’t rise.

“Where’s Vasquez?” Judy asked, keeping her tone even.

The man barked a laugh. “She doesn't sit in dust like this. You got business, you wait.”

Judy didn’t blink. “Then let her know Judy Alvarez is here. It’s about trade.”

That made the others shift slightly. The name meant something she wasn’t sure if it was good or bad, but it was enough.

A younger runner peeled off toward the back, boots crunching over gravel as he disappeared around the station’s shadow. The rest kept their eyes on her, not moving, just watching like dogs that didn’t bark unless fed reason.

Judy waited, the dry wind tugging her hair, pink and green catching the sun. She adjusted her stance, glancing once to the horizon. Still nothing from the Link. Valerie was holding steady.

She whispered under her breath, more for herself than anyone. “Come on, Kass… don’t make me beg.”

Footsteps echoed from the back of the structure a minute later, sharp, deliberate. A woman stepped out tall, broad-shouldered, leather jacket hanging open to reveal a ribbed tank top and a long scar running down the side of her neck.

Kassidy Vasquez.

She didn’t smile, but her eyes scanned Judy like reading the label on something expensive and flammable.

“Well,” she said. “Didn’t expect you. And I sure as shit didn’t expect you to be the one crawling to me.”

Judy’s mouth tightened. “I’m not crawling.”

Kassidy tilted her head. “No? Then why’s Valerie’s name bouncing off your teeth like it still matters?”

Judy straightened, not flinching. “Because she’s dying. And you have what she needs.”

Kass raised an eyebrow. “And what are you offering?”

Judy’s voice didn’t shake. “Whatever it takes.”

The desert wind picked up, dust curling around their boots. For a second, the world held its breath. Then Kass’s lip curled just slightly, not quite a smile.

“Let’s talk inside.”

The room stank of old smoke and engine oil, the kind of place where bad deals clung to the walls and you didn’t sit unless you had to. Kassidy leaned back in a ripped-up recliner patched with duct tape and snake-pattern vinyl. The moment the door closed behind them, she motioned lazily toward a rusted folding chair across from her.

“Have a seat.”

Judy didn’t move. Her arms stayed at her sides, jaw tight, one boot scuffing against the cracked concrete floor.

“I’ll stand.”

Kassidy’s lip curled, amused. “Suit yourself.” She snapped her fingers.

Two Snake Nation members, leather vests, cheap chrome, twitchy, stepped in from the shadows and flanked Judy like they’d been waiting for that cue all morning. Neither touched her. Not yet. But they closed the space enough to remind her exactly where she stood.

Judy glanced once at each of them, then fixed her gaze on Kassidy. “I’m not here for trouble. I need the medicine. That’s it. I’ll be gone right after.”

Kassidy pulled a cigarette from behind her ear and struck a match off the table’s edge, eyes not leaving Judy’s face as the flame caught. The first drag was long. Sharp.

“Why the fuck should I care if my ex is dying?” she said, voice all heat and ash. “Valerie chose her war. Raided a megacorp. Stole lives. You think karma just forgets that kinda thing?”

Judy’s fingers curled into fists, nails biting palm. “Just tell me what you want.”

Another drag. Kassidy exhaled slowly through her nose, smoke curling like a smirk.

“You know what the NUSA would pay to get their hands on you? What would Militech do for just one more clip of your wife’s last stand? You two are worth more than half this camp combined.”

Judy spit on the floor between them, jaw tight. “So that’s your plan? Sell us out like the snake you are?”

Kassidy twirled the cigarette between two fingers, letting the ember glow a little brighter.

“Don’t tempt me. You think anyone here’s loyal to you?” She leaned forward, voice dipping cold. “You’re ghosts. Playing house in dirt that doesn't belong to you. Valerie was always good at pretending. Thought she could outrun the mess she made with a van and a dream.”

Judy’s lip curled. “Yeah? Well she still chose me. Guess you weren’t worth the mess.”

The silence snapped.

Kassidy surged from the chair in a blink, grabbing Judy by the back of the head and slamming her halfway against the rusted table. She didn’t yell. Didn’t growl. Just pressed the lit end of her cigarette slow and deliberate into the flesh of Judy’s shoulder.

The burn was white-hot blinding. Judy hissed through gritted teeth but didn’t scream. She didn’t give Kassidy the fucking satisfaction.

Kassidy’s voice came low against her ear. “Feisty little tech. Think you’re something just ‘cause you stitch braindances and play house with an outlaw?”

Judy’s breath shuddered. The pain pulsed hard beneath her collarbone, but she held.

“You don’t know what I’m capable of,” she rasped.

She didn’t need chrome. She didn’t need a weapon. She’d burned worlds for Valerie before, and she’d do it again.

Kassidy held her there a moment longer, then shoved her back. Judy staggered but didn’t fall. The burn was raw, the scent of scorched cotton sharp in the air. She clutched her shoulder but never looked away.

Kassidy stepped back, cigarette dead now. Her eyes narrowed.

“So you still want the meds?”

Judy raised her chin, voice steel. “Name your fucking price.”

Kassidy cracked her knuckles one at a time, slow and deliberate, the bones popping like snapped twigs in the quiet room. Her voice dropped into that low-throated drawl, smooth and mean.

“Since you’re feelin’ feisty,” she said, stepping into the center of the space, “let’s settle this the Nomad way. One-on-one. You win, I give you the meds, and pretend I never saw you.” Her grin turned wicked. “I win… things get really lucrative when I hand you over.”

Judy rolled her shoulders, a flicker of tension shaking off as she took a step forward. The burn on her shoulder throbbed, but she barely registered it. There was fire behind her dark brown eyes now, a slow-building heat that’d burned hotter under worse.

“And how the fuck do I know you’ll keep your word?”

Kassidy feigned innocence like a mask pulled from an old drawer, worn and cracked at the edges. “Have I ever forfeited a deal, boys?”

The two Snake Nation goons exchanged a quick glance, then shook their heads in sync, silent.

Judy’s jaw clenched. “You remind me of Maiko.”

Kassidy’s brow arched.

Judy didn’t stop. “Power-hungry bitch with a silver tongue and a knife in her back pocket. Didn't turn out well when she tried to buy Valerie off.”

Kassidy’s smile went razor-thin, all humor gone. “Oh, how adorable.”

Then she stepped in close, nose to nose.

“Do you accept the terms?”

Judy flexed her wrists, shoulders squaring.

“Yeah,” she said, steady and without pause. “But I’m not losing.”

Kassidy’s smirk returned meaner this time. “Good. Been bored all week.”

One of the goons pulled back a crate, clearing space. The other stepped to the side, kicking a dented chair out of the way with the heel of his boot. The back door of the room slammed shut behind them, casting the room into a deeper haze of dust and heat. Somewhere outside, the muffled hum of a generator rolled steady.

Judy flexed her arm, exposing the red welt burned into her shoulder. Dark brown eyes never leaving Kassidy.

Kassidy unstrapped her shoulder holster and let it drop with a thunk beside the recliner. She rolled her neck once, vertebrae clicking.

“No weapons. No armor. Just hands.” She cracked her knuckles again. “Don’t worry. I won’t break your face too bad.”

Judy took her stance low, grounded, sharp.

“Keep talkin’, snake,” she said. “Let’s see how you bite without backup.”

Judy stood her ground, jaw set, dust clinging to the sweat on her brow as she motioned Kassidy forward with the flick of her fingers.

“What’s the hold-up?” she said, voice cutting through the tension. “Must’ve really eaten at you… watching Valerie marry someone who could give a shit about more than your empire.”

That did it.

Kassidy snarled and lunged. Her first punch came fast, a sharp arc meant for Judy’s jaw, but Judy shifted left, slipping just past it and driving a solid shot into Kassidy’s side, ribs thudding under her knuckles.

Kassidy grunted but only laughed, breathless and full of scorn.

“You think that means something?” she spat, circling. “I run one of the most profitable clans in Arizona. Valerie? She was just a firecracker. Pretty, useful. A stepping stone. I didn’t chase her when she left the Bakkers because I was done.”

She twisted suddenly, sweeping low. Judy didn’t see it fast enough. The hit landed clean, Kassidy’s boot slamming against the side of her knee, buckling her just enough to send her staggering backward.

Judy caught herself with a hiss, knees bent, weight re-centered. Pain shot up her leg, but she didn’t fall.

“You didn’t deserve any of her love,” Judy bit out, voice sharp, face twisted in fury.

Kassidy’s sneer twisted deeper. “And you don’t deserve her loyalty.”

They collided again, this time fists connecting one to Judy’s shoulder, one to Kassidy’s jaw. Neither flinched.

The space turned rough and narrow, fists slamming into ribs and forearms, skin scraping against crate edges. One of the goons whistled low under his breath, the other inching closer just in case things spiraled too far.

Judy didn’t stop. She’d fought through the Relic's seizures. She’d dragged Valerie’s broken body through hell. This? This was just muscle and blood.

She wasn’t giving Valerie’s life over to someone like Kassidy. Not now. Not ever.

Kassidy came at her hard shoulder first, fists flying like they were made of iron. Judy gritted her teeth and kept her stance tight, blocking the next hit with her forearm, the impact ringing down to her elbow.

Another swing as Judy ducked it, just barely, the wind of Kassidy’s knuckles brushing past her ear. She threw a jab of her own, caught Kassidy in the ribs again, then had to twist fast as a retaliating knee came for her gut.

The fight turned raw. No circles now just sweat, blood, and grit echoing off the inside of the room. Boots scraping, fists slamming, both of them panting, bodies lit in the harsh yellow light above.

Kassidy caught her with a hard elbow to the collarbone. Judy stumbled but didn’t fall. She twisted, countered with a sharp hook that grazed Kassidy’s cheek.

“You really think,” Kassidy growled, “you’re walking out of here with your head still on?”

Judy just spat blood, eyes burning. “I’m walking out with the meds.”

They crashed together again, fists driving in close. Kassidy landed a punch to her ribs Judy answered with one to the jaw. They were locked in that brutal rhythm now give, take, bleed, breathe.

Kassidy’s fist came in high, fast, but telegraphed. Judy ducked low, heart hammering, and came up under it with everything she had.

Her uppercut cracked against Kassidy’s chin sharp, clean. The bigger woman’s head snapped back with a sound like bone meeting iron, her knees buckled beneath her.

Just like that, she was down. Flat on her back. Out cold.

Silence swallowed the room.

One of the Snake Nation grunts let out a slow whistle. The other backed off instinctively, raising his hands.

Judy didn’t gloat. She stood over Kassidy’s unconscious form, chest heaving, blood on her lip and fire in her spine. Then she turned, still breathing hard, and locked eyes with the closest enforcer.

“Well?” she asked, voice low. “Deal’s a deal.”

He nodded once tight, careful. “You won. Meds are yours.”

Judy rolled her sore shoulder and tried not to limp. “Good. Now hand them over, and tell no one I was ever here.”

No one argued.

The grunt handed over a small sealed pouch gray plastic, red band across the top. Judy’s fingers closed tight around it, the weight light but meaning everything. She exhaled slowly, tension bleeding from her jaw just enough to let a hint of relief in.

A month’s worth. Enough to keep Valerie steady, maybe even enough to give her time to actually recover.

Judy didn’t say thank you. Just giving the grunt a nod and turning her back on the dim room light, Kassidy still sprawled in the center behind her, unmoving but breathing. She crossed the cracked concrete floor, footsteps echoing under the roof beams as she pushed open the side door and stepped into the dry late-afternoon light.

The air outside felt hotter now, but it carried something else with it freedom, or maybe just distance from old ghosts.

Judy climbed into the Racer, the sun flashing briefly off the metal grille. She set the pouch on the seat beside her, fingers lingering over it a second longer before fastening her harness and starting the engine.

The rig rumbled to life with that steady hum, solar-fed and battle-born. Her hands rested on the wheel, dark brown eyes tracing the road ahead through her lashes.

One month. That was the breathing room they’d earned today. Hopefully by the end of it, Valerie would be stronger. Hopefully they'd both have a little less to fear.

Judy eased the vehicle into motion, turning back toward the road that would lead her home. Dust kicked up behind the tires, trailing into the horizon as she drove back toward the camp, and the woman who was still waiting for her on the other side of it.

The Racer’s tires hummed steady over the sunbaked highway, eating up mile after mile of cracked asphalt and faded lane lines. The windows were down just enough to let the desert wind curl inside, warm and dry as it teased across Judy’s face, pulling strands of green and pink hair loose from behind her ear.

She didn’t bother with music. The road had its own rhythm: the low drone of the engine, the occasional pop of gravel beneath the tires, the creak of the rig’s frame when the wind shifted just right. And underneath all of it, the faint presence of Valerie through the Link.

Still resting. Still calm. No spikes. No sudden jolts of pain. Just the quiet pulse of someone breathing easy, safe for now.

Judy’s grip loosened on the wheel. Just a little.

She passed an old sign half-sunk in the dirt PHOENIX, the letters barely clinging to the metal. Not that it mattered. Her mind wasn’t on the city anymore. Just the slow curve of the land, the trail of tire marks behind her, and the camp waiting ahead like a heartbeat she could count on.

Her thoughts drifted. Back to the moment Kassidy’s body hit the floor. The way the Snake Nation goons backed off without a word. That faint, bruising sting still smarting on her shoulder where the cigarette had pressed in. It throbbed now and then, but she welcomed it. A reminder of what she'd walked through to bring that medicine home.

Sunlight flared off the hood. She reached for the cooling pouch in the passenger seat, steadying it in place with one hand before setting it back down. Not long now. She was only a few turns from the ridge road that wrapped around to camp.

Judy let her foot ease down on the accelerator. Just a little more dust, a little more wind, and she’d be back in the rhythm of it all Valerie sleeping, Sera no doubt halfway to convincing Sandra to build some cardboard space station in the tent, the clan stirring with engines and old music.

And her, finally home again. Where she belonged.

She didn’t smile. Not quite. But her dark brown eyes softened as the camp fence came into view over the rise, the familiar scatter of tents and panels catching the light just ahead. One hand gripped the wheel. The other brushed over the medicine pouch like a promise.

The Racer rumbled down the ridge path, tires crunching over the packed dirt that formed the main loop into camp. Judy eased off the accelerator, letting the rig glide to a slower crawl as the solar panel towers came into view, shimmering faintly in the afternoon haze.

Camp was alive, kids darting between tents, a couple of Aldecaldos unloading crates near the mechanic’s shed, the faint whine of someone tuning a guitar drifting from the far side of the mess tent. It all blended into a rhythm that felt steady, and familiar.

She cut the engine just past the Alvarez tent, letting the sudden quiet fall over her like a held breath finally released. One last glance at the passenger seat at the pouch holding the meds before she stepped out into the dust and light, boots landing soft in the shade near the rig’s flank.

The flap of the tent was half-zipped, a slight breeze tugging it open. Inside, she could hear soft voices, Sera's laugh, low and relaxed, and Sandra’s quieter tone following after. Somewhere deeper in, she felt it again that pulse through the Link. Valerie was still resting, heartbeat steady. No pain spike. Just the slow, healing quiet of someone trying to come back piece by piece.

Judy exhaled through her nose and ducked into the tent.

Sera was perched at the edge of her cot, a sketchbook balanced across her knees. Sandra was beside her, pointing at something with a half-eaten chip still in her hand. They both turned when Judy stepped inside.

Sera’s eyes widened. “You’re back already?”

Judy grinned and tapped the pouch at her side. “Told you I’d be back before nightfall.”

Sandra blinked. “Did you get it?”

Judy nodded. “Enough for a whole month.”

Sera stood quick, eyes flicking across the tent. “She’s still sleeping.”

“I know,” Judy said softly, stepping past the girls. “I could feel it.”

She crossed over to the small crate where they kept the first aid supplies, unzipped the pouch, and carefully tucked the meds into the storage tin at the bottom, sealing it with a quiet clink. Two left from before. Thirty now to add. It wasn’t a cure, but it was time.

Time Valerie desperately needed.

She turned just as Sera came up beside her. “Did you have to fight someone for them?”

Judy hesitated, then gave a small nod. “Yeah. Kinda.”

Sandra’s brows rose. “Did you win?”

Judy gave a tired smirk. “I’m standing here, aren’t I?”

That earned her a grin from both girls. Sera’s was wider, but Sandra’s held something a little steadier in it, like she knew just how close that line could’ve been.

Judy gave their shoulders a gentle squeeze. “Go on. Let her sleep. But maybe try not to shake the tent down while you’re at it.”

Sera mock-saluted. “You got it, Mama.”

Judy watched them slip back toward Sera’s cot, their voices already lowering to whispers. She turned toward the side, where Valerie’s sleeping form was still curled beneath the sheet. Her chest rose and fell evenly, face half-tucked into the pillow.

Judy knelt down beside her, brushed a bit of red hair off her forehead, and kissed her temple.

“We’ve got a month,” she whispered. “We’ll make it count.”

Judy moved quietly, careful not to disturb the hush that had settled over the tent. She filled the old metal bucket outside with clean water, the spout hissing slightly from the tank’s pressure. When she stepped back in, the light filtering through the flap caught the edges of her clothes dust-specked and creased from the drive, from the fight.

She set the bucket beside the cot and knelt down, dipping the cloth in the cool water before wringing it out. Her knuckles still ached bruised and raw where they’d landed across Kassidy’s jaw. She ran the cloth across them first, letting the sting of it bite clean. Then, gently, she pressed the damp fabric to her shoulder, where the cigarette had burned through her jacket and into her skin.

A soft hiss passed her lips. Nothing broken. Just ugly. Ugly and sharp.

The first aid kit clicked open beside her. Judy dabbed a bit of ointment onto the burn, smoothed the edges, then wrapped it with a bandage, tying it snug at the shoulder joint. Her fingers moved slower wrapping the knuckles. Each tug reminded her of the swings she'd taken, of the adrenaline she hadn’t had time to crash from.

By the time it was done, her hands were steadier.

She grabbed the old canvas chair the one Valerie always insisted wasn’t worth tossing because it had "just the right kind of lean" and dragged it to the side of their shared cot. Valerie was still asleep, one arm curled beneath her head, her chest rising and falling with that same rhythm Judy had followed since the night they first met. The Link pulsed quiet. No spike. No stress. Just steady.

Judy exhaled and let herself sink into the chair.

She didn’t speak. Just sat there, elbows on her knees, watching the way Valerie’s lashes shifted slightly with her breathing.

A soft laugh pulled her attention across the tent.

Sera and Sandra were still cross-legged on the cot, a sketchbook open between them. Sandra was pointing at something, Sera nodding along with her finger. They were whispering, but not in the kind of way that meant secrets. It was something lighter. A rhythm of belonging.

Judy leaned her cheek into her hand, letting the burn on her shoulder fade into the background. Everything else could wait.

For now, the girls were laughing, and Valerie was breathing steady.

Chapter Text

Sera caught Judy’s gaze for a second and grinned, holding up the sketchbook like it was proof of something important: two figures drawn in charcoal pencil, one with wild curls and a bandana, the other with a streak of green in her hair. Sandra giggled beside her, clearly the culprit behind the tiny lizard sketched riding on Sera’s shoulder in the picture.

Judy managed a tired smile and gave a small nod. She didn’t have the energy to say anything yet, and didn't need to.

The tent was warm with late afternoon light, the flap edges casting soft shadows that flickered as the wind played with the canvas. The hum of the camp reached in gentle engines being tuned, laughter from somewhere near the garage, someone shouting for spare coolant, and for once, none of it felt intrusive.

Valerie shifted slightly in her sleep. Judy leaned forward, brushing a loose strand of red hair off her forehead, letting her fingers linger there just a second longer than needed. Her pulse was steady beneath the skin. She looked a little pale still, but the shallow worry Judy carried was just starting to soften at the edges.

The cooler sat by the tent wall, humming low. Judy eyed it, made a mental note to check how much water they had left. Then let it go. She’d rest for a few more minutes. Her body needed it, even if her mind kept chasing the road behind her.

Sera flopped down flat across the cot now, one arm thrown up dramatically. “Okay, but next I’m drawing the Racer. With rocket boosters. And maybe a giant eagle on the hood.”

Sandra perked up. “Can the eagle wear sunglasses?”

Judy snorted. “Only if I get to approve the hood design. Valerie would throw a fit if you mess with her paint job.”

Sera looked up, arms behind her head now, grinning. “She’ll love it. It’ll be totally legendary.”

Judy shook her head, sinking back in the chair, her knuckles resting on her lap. “You two are a menace.”

Sandra lifted her chin proudly. “We prefer creative forces of chaos.”

That earned a soft laugh from Valerie.

Not a full wake-up, but the kind of half-mumble that meant she’d been listening, just barely.

Judy’s eyes snapped back to her, her smile gentler now. She reached out, brushing her hand along Valerie’s arm.

“We’re here,” she whispered. “You’re safe.”

For the first time that afternoon, Judy let her eyes close too. Just for a minute.

Valerie’s arm twitched just slightly under Judy’s hand, not enough to wake fully, but enough to answer the voice that brought her back to the surface. Judy watched her chest rise slow again, the tension easing from her features as the spike settled. Not an episode. Not yet. Just a breath that needed company.

Across the tent, Sera rolled onto her stomach, pencil stuck behind one ear now. Sandra had taken over the sketchbook, tongue between her teeth as she tried to perfect the line of what was either a jet engine or a toaster with wings.

Judy gave a soft exhale and leaned back into the canvas chair, letting the frame take her weight. Her shoulder ached deep and hot beneath the bandage, and her knuckles throbbed like old bruises, but none of it was sharp. None of it took precedence over what was right in front of her.

Valerie was still breathing steady.

The girls giggling, light enough not to disturb, loud enough to fill the space.

She rubbed her hand over her face, then dropped it to her lap, watching the quiet with something close to reverence.

Sandra walked over to the cooler, pulled two bottles of water, and passed one silently to Judy. She twisted the cap off the other with her teeth, then flopped onto her cot with the dramatic sigh of someone who had survived a very long afternoon of emotional chaos and art.

Sera took a drink of water, spilling a few drops over her shirt. “I almost flooded the eagle.”

“Emergency desert storm landing,” Sandra said back, twisting her voice like a radio dispatcher.

Judy smiled, dry and tired and full all at once.

Sera caught her eye. “Hey Mama… we’re keeping it down.”

Judy nodded, voice a little hoarse. “You’re doing good, Starshine.”

She looked back to Valerie, ran her fingers once more through the loose red strands across her temple. “She’s gonna love the design.”

Sera smiled faintly, like she knew that already.

The wind pulled at the flap again, a little stronger now. Distant chatter from a returning patrol floated across the camp. Tires crunching gravel. Mitch’s voice somewhere near the garage calling for someone to hand him the damn wrench, not the socket, the wrench.

For just a little while longer, Judy let herself stay still. Let herself be the quiet anchor between breath and bone, sketchbook pages and sleep.

The canvas flap rustled again, softer this time. Judy hadn’t even set her water down when Panam’s voice came low from just outside.

“Got a minute?”

Judy glanced at Sera and gave a soft nod. “Just a couple, MI Cielo .”

She rose with a quiet stretch and slipped out of the tent, pulling the flap back gently behind her. The afternoon air hit warmer than before, the sun beginning its slow tilt westward across the sky. Panam was already leaning against a post nearby, arms crossed, eyes scanning Judy top to bottom.

Her brow furrowed. “That bad, huh?”

Judy exhaled, shifted the weight on her sore shoulder. “Could’ve been worse. Kassidy tried to corner me. Said she could sell me out, make twice what the meds were worth.”

Panam’s jaw tightened, her stance shifting forward half a step. “Did she threaten you?”

“Yeah,” Judy said. “Brought out her muscleheads, lit a cigarette, played the whole queen bitch routine. Thought I’d flinch.”

Panam’s eyes flicked to the bandage showing under the sleeve edge. “Didn’t look like flinching.”

Judy gave a faint, humorless smile. “She challenged me. Said we’d settle it like Nomads. One-on-one. Figured I was still just some techie who edits braindances.” She lifted her chin, voice steady now. “Well, now she knows. She fucked with the wrong woman.”

Panam’s expression cracked into something sharp and proud. “Damn right she did.”

They stood in the quiet for a beat, the breeze picking up dust across the camp’s outer ridge. Far off, one of the patrol bikes revved before cutting west.

“You good?” Panam asked, voice lower now. Not the leader checking a box. The friend who knew the weight behind every choice.

Judy nodded once. “Got enough meds for a month. Valerie’s resting. Sera’s... grounded in the best way I’ve ever seen.”

Panam tilted her head, arms still folded. “You gonna tell her how close it got?”

Judy’s eyes softened a little. “Eventually. Not today.”

Panam didn’t push. Just nodded once, shoulder bumping lightly against Judy’s as they stood side by side. “You need anything, you find me.”

Judy glanced back toward the tent, where laughter was still faintly audible from inside. “I just need time. We’re working on the rest.”

Panam nodded, her voice a murmur. “You always were.”

Judy turned toward the tent again, letting her fingers rest against the flap a second. That’s when she noticed the clothesline bare, the metal poles folded and leaned neatly outside the tent. The laundry was gone.

She blinked once, a tired smile forming. Sera must’ve handled it while she was gone. The girl never sat still long, not if she could help someone.

She was about to step inside when a familiar voice called out from off to the right.

“Judy!”

Vicky’s stride was casual, but the way her eyes immediately tracked Judy’s bandaged shoulder said everything. She smirked as she came up. “Damn, girl. Hate to see what Kassidy looks like.”

Judy let out a low chuckle, rubbing her thumb along her opposite wrist. “Just did what I had to.”

Vicky tipped her chin, hands resting on her hips. “Well, contracts are handled for today, so that’s one less mess to untangle. Sandra doing okay?”

“Yeah,” Judy nodded, glancing toward the tent. “Her and Sera kept watch over Valerie most of the afternoon. Been sketching, reading.”

Vicky gave a genuine laugh. “The first day I didn’t have to worry about her climbing up the scrap pile or sweet-talking one of the mechanics into letting her weld something.”

“She’s a good kid,” Judy said simply.

Vicky’s smile softened, then turned slightly more serious. “How’s Valerie?”

Judy took a breath, the weight back in her chest but not quite heavy. “Usually sleeps a few hours after a spike. She stirred once settled again. I think she’s close. Wouldn’t surprise me if she wakes up soon.”

Vicky nodded. “She’s got family now. She’ll pull through.”

“I keep hoping,” Judy said. “Every time it gets close, I still hope.”

Vicky didn’t say anything to that. Just stepped forward and rested a hand briefly on Judy’s good shoulder.

“Tell her I said hi when she wakes up,” she said. “I’m gonna grab Sandra and settle a few things before the mess tent starts serving.”

Judy gave a small nod. “I’ll let her know you are here.”

She watched Vicky pause near one of the support poles outside the tent, leaning casually with arms folded, giving no sign of rushing. Judy turned back toward the flap and ducked inside.

The light was dimmer now, sun dipping behind the ridge, casting long bands of amber across the canvas walls. Sera had stretched out beside the cooler, sketchbook still in hand, her feet crossed at the ankles. Sandra was sitting up on the cot now, flipping through one of the old paperbacks Valerie kept tucked near her bag.

Judy’s eyes flicked to Valerie still asleep, but her breathing held steady. Then back to Sandra.

“Hey,” Judy said softly, stepping farther in. “Your mom’s outside waiting on you. Said she’s got a couple things to take care of before dinner.”

Sandra perked up, closing the book gently. “Okay.” She looked over at Sera. “Be back in a bit?”

Sera lifted her hand lazily from where she was sprawled. “Don’t let her rope you into the grown-up stuff.”

Sandra just grinned and made her way to the flap, slipping outside with that familiar bounce in her step.

Judy eased back into the chair, letting herself sink in. The hum of the cooler, Valerie’s breathing, Sera’s pencil tapping against the edge of the page. The world had narrowed again, soft, warm, steady.

Just long enough to be called peace.

They sat in the quiet for a little bit, long enough for the outside noise to fade into rhythm boots crunching gravel, a drill whining near the solar rig, someone cursing at a jammed socket. Judy let her eyes drift, the weight of the day finally sinking into her limbs. Her mind started to wander.

Back to the drive. The heat off the asphalt. The sting in her shoulder. The way Kassidy’s sneer hadn’t meant a damn thing when the first punch landed clean.

She was still thinking about it, still somewhere between the feel of the wheel in her palms and the look in Kassidy’s eyes right before she dropped when a voice pulled her gently back.

“Are you okay, babe?”

It was soft. Raspy. The edge of sleep is still clinging to it, but it was Valerie.

Judy turned fast, half-disbelieving, her dark brown eyes landing on her wife now blinking up at her from the cot. Valerie’s emerald eyes were clearer than before, lips dry but smiling faintly.

Judy leaned in without hesitation, brushing the back of her fingers along Valerie’s cheek. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m okay.”

Valerie shifted slightly, brows pinched. “You look like hell, but still the most beautiful thing to wake up to,” she murmured, but the edge of a smirk softened it.

Judy huffed a quiet laugh. “Still know how to make me feel special, Val.”

Valerie’s hand crept over Judy’s, her fingers curling weak but sure. “You went, didn’t you? For the meds.”

Judy hesitated, then nodded. “I got ‘em. Enough to get you through the month.”

Valerie searched her face for a long second, then let out a slow breath. “Was it bad?”

Judy didn’t answer right away. She didn’t need to. The bandage peeking beneath her tank strap and the scrapes on her knuckles told enough.

Valerie’s fingers tightened a little. “You fought for me.”

“I’ll always fight for you.” Judy leaned in, resting her forehead gently against Valerie’s. “That’s what we do.”

Valerie smiled against her skin. "At least til one of us can barely move.”

Judy closed her eyes. Just breathed her in for a second.

“You’re safe,” she whispered again, steadier now. “We’re safe.”

Sera looked up from her sketchbook, grinning like she’d been waiting for the right moment to drop her exit line.

“I’m happy you’re awake now, Mom,” she said with a smirk, flipping the sketchbook closed, “but I’m gonna see what the mess tent has for dinner before you two start making out.”

That earned a laugh from both Valerie and Judy, low and easy like something old and warm finally clicking back into place.

Valerie smiled wide, her voice still a little scratchy but full of affection. “Go enjoy dinner, Starshine. We’ll be out soon.”

Sera gave a lazy wave, slipping out through the flap with that same quiet bounce in her step that always gave her away. A few seconds later, they heard her voice call out for Sandra, somewhere past the next row of tents.

Judy leaned down, catching Valerie’s lips in a kiss that was soft and slow just long enough to remind them both they’d made it through one more day. Then she helped her sit up, careful of her balance, steadying her with a hand at the small of her back as Valerie swung her legs over the side of the cot.

Valerie let out a breath and kissed the edge of Judy’s bandaged shoulder, lips brushing just above the gauze. “You’re sure this is the worst of it?” she murmured, voice still low.

Judy nodded, easing down beside her. “Bruise on my ribs. Knee is tender. But nothing I can’t live with.”

Valerie’s fingers reached for her hand, curling over it until their gold bands met dull metal catching the last of the tent’s filtered light. She traced Judy’s ring with the side of her thumb, not saying anything at first. Just holding her there.

“You brought it back,” she whispered finally. “The time. The breath. The chance.”

Judy’s grip tightened gently. “I wasn’t letting you go.”

They stayed like that a moment, rings brushing, breath syncing, quiet between them like something sacred.

Judy glanced down at their hands, the way her fingers naturally threaded with Valerie’s, how the gold caught a sliver of the fading light through the canvas wall. She gave a soft squeeze, just enough to feel the pulse beneath Valerie’s skin, steady now still there.

“That’s not nothing,” Valerie said quietly, her thumb brushing slowly along Judy’s ring. Her voice was still hoarse but stronger now, more herself. “You shouldn’t have had to do it alone.”

Judy looked over at her, eyes tired but warm. “I wasn’t alone. You were with me, every mile of that road. Through the Link. Through everything.”

Valerie let her forehead press against Judy’s temple, just breathing her in. Her hand never left Judy’s, the warmth grounding her more than the cot beneath her or the canvas walls around them. Just that anchor, flesh and gold and grit.

“I’ll get stronger,” she murmured. “I promise. You won’t have to carry this forever.”

Judy turned her head, kissed the edge of Valerie’s jaw, voice low. “You’ve carried me more times than I can count, Val. This is just me returning the favor.”

Outside, faint voices drifted from the mess tent laughter, the clatter of metal trays, someone joking about overcooked rice again. Safe sounds. Familiar ones.

Valerie’s lips curved into a soft smile. “Think they’ve got any of those sandwiches left?”

Judy chuckled. “If Sera hasn’t charmed the whole mess hall out of them, maybe.”

Valerie leaned into her a little more, resting her head on Judy’s shoulder. “Let’s go see what trouble she’s stirring up.”

“Soon,” Judy murmured, wrapping an arm around her waist. “Just a minute more.”

There they sat, two bruised souls wrapped in warmth and stubborn devotion, in the fading light of a world they’d carved for themselves, one battle, one promise, one breath at a time.

Valerie didn’t move yet. Her eyes stayed half-lidded, head tucked just beneath Judy’s jaw as she let the rhythm of her breathing settle into that familiar cadence. There was no urgency now, just the quiet kind of stillness that came when the worst had passed, and nothing more was demanded of them except presence.

Judy’s thumb brushed along the side of Valerie’s hand again, slow and absent, like she was memorizing the shape all over. Every scar, every callus, every line of a life hard-lived and still holding on.

“You smell like dust and sweat,” Valerie mumbled, the faintest smile tugging at her lips.

Judy let out a tired breath, the kind that still carried a trace of a laugh. “You try wrestling with a psycho warlord in the middle of a black market scrapyard and see how fresh you come out.”

Valerie hummed low in her throat. “Still sexy.”

“Thought so,” Judy said, resting her cheek against red hair still damp at the roots. “You’ve always had questionable taste.”

They lingered, letting the tent breathe around them. The cooler gave a soft pop as it cycled down, and outside, the familiar creak of boots on loose gravel passed close to someone muttering about coolant levels.

Valerie closed her eyes again, not to sleep, just to be there. “Don’t wanna stand up yet.”

“Then don’t.” Judy’s hand smoothed down her back. “You’ve earned the hell out of this minute.”

For a long beat, neither of them said anything. There was no need.

Finally, Valerie drew in a breath that had a little more weight behind it. “Okay. I think I can do this.”

Judy pulled back just enough to meet her eyes. “You sure?”

“No.” Valerie smiled. “But I’m still doing it.”

Judy kissed her softly again long enough to steady them both, then pulled back just a breath, eyes searching Valerie’s face. She rose without rush, joints protesting just a little, and extended her hand.

Valerie looked at it, then at her no words needed. She slipped her fingers into Judy’s and let herself be guided upright, slow and careful, knees stiff but holding.

Her body still ached. Her balance wavered. But Judy’s hand never faltered, and neither did the quiet between them.

Valerie squeezed once, just to feel the answer in Judy’s grip. “Still here,” she said, voice low.

Judy met her gaze, steady and warm. “Yeah. You are.”

As they stepped out into the late evening air, the wind had shifted cooler now, brushing over Valerie’s skin with the kind of gentleness that only came after a hard day earned. The gravel crunched beneath their boots as Judy stayed close, arm ghosting behind Valerie’s back, ready to catch her if her balance slipped again. But it didn’t.

The camp still hummed. A few engines revved in the distance, soft voices passed between tents, and the faint glow of the mess tent lights cast long shadows across the dirt.

They didn’t speak on the walk, and didn't need to. The silence between them had weight but not burden. It carried the softness of survival, the ache of love that had been tested and hadn’t broken.

When they reached the tent and pulled the flap aside, the warmth inside wrapped around them instantly battered tables, the low murmur of voices, clatter of utensils. That familiar scent of fried flour, something vaguely tomato-based, and too-sweet punch filled the space.

At one of the nearer tables, Sera sat cross-legged on the bench beside Sandra, animated mid-story, waving a spoon like punctuation. Vicky sat across from them, one arm slung casually over the back of her chair, smirking like she’d already heard the tale three times but wasn’t about to stop the next retelling.

A mostly-eaten plate of something passed for stew sat in front of Sera, along with a half-empty juice box and what looked like a purloined second helping of cornbread. She glanced up just then, and the grin that broke across her face was immediate.

“There you are!” she called. “Told you they’d crawl out eventually.”

Sandra laughed through a mouthful of rice, while Vicky lifted her mug in greeting.

Judy leaned close to Valerie, voice low. “Looks like they saved us a seat.”

Valerie’s smile was tired but real. “Good. I’m starving.”

Judy guided Valerie to the table with a steady hand at her lower back, catching the subtle shift in her step still favoring that left leg, still careful not to let the weakness show too much. But when Valerie eased down beside Sera, it was with a quiet breath, not a wince.

Sera immediately nudged over on the bench to give her space. “You missed it,” she said, grinning as she set her spoon down. “Sandra tried to convince everyone her drawing of a toaster jet engine was a new prototype.”

Valerie chuckled, settling back with her hands braced against the edge of the table. “Sounds like I missed a lot of breakthroughs today.”

Sandra shrugged, sipping from her juice. “Give it a week, someone’s gonna steal my design.”

Judy leaned down, brushing a quick kiss against Valerie’s temple. “I’ll be right back,” she murmured, fingers trailing briefly across her shoulder before pulling away. “Don’t let ‘em eat all the cornbread again.”

“I make no promises,” Valerie said, smirking up at her.

Judy gave her a soft look before turning and making her way toward the serving line, weaving through the loosely gathered clusters of Aldecaldos catching the end of the dinner rush. The scent of spiced beans and roasted vegetables lingered thick in the air, and somewhere behind the counter, someone shouted for another ladle.

At the table, Sera leaned close to Valerie, voice lower now. “You okay, Mom? For real?”

Valerie reached out, squeezed her daughter’s hand. “I am now, Starshine.” Her smile held, even as the weight behind it flickered. “Thanks for watching over everything.”

Sera shrugged like it was nothing, but the way her fingers curled around Valerie’s said otherwise.

Across the table, Vicky sipped her drink, eyes on them but quiet. Letting the moment breathe.

Judy returned a few minutes later, balancing two mismatched plates stacked high with food, and a third with just a single cornbread wedge barely clinging to its napkin. The tray beneath them clinked gently with every step as she approached.

“Managed to snag us the last decent scoop of beans,” she said as she reached the table, easing the tray down. “Everything else was in ‘use your imagination’ territory.”

Valerie raised a brow, eyeing the stew skeptically. “So… same as usual?”

“Nothing’s changed.” Judy handed her a plate and passed a juice bottle from her back pocket like it was part of a magic trick. “Didn’t trust the punch.”

“That’s fair,” Valerie said, accepting it all with a grateful smile. “Last time I drank it, I saw colors that aren’t on the spectrum.”

Vicky grinned. “That’s because Mitch accidentally spiked it with electrolyte concentrate. Said it was ‘good for morale.’”

Valerie gave a soft laugh, already tearing a piece of cornbread. “Remind me to keep him away from the drink station.”

Judy settled in beside her, the familiar creak of the bench grounding her as she shifted close enough for their knees to touch. Her hand brushed against Valerie’s under the table quick, steady.

Across from them, Vicky stretched her arms behind her head, then dropped them back down with a sigh. “Pretty sure tomorrow’s going to be engine diagnostics and double patrols. If any of you feel like pretending to be interested, I’m assigning tasks at breakfast.”

Sandra gave a mock salute. “I’ll draw another toaster.”

“You’ll be head of R&D in no time,” Vicky deadpanned.

Sera giggled, her elbow bumping Valerie’s lightly. “Think the Racer would take a jet mod?”

Valerie took a bite of her food before answering, chewing thoughtfully. “Only if the eagle gets sunglasses.”

Sandra grinned, catching Judy’s eye. “Told you!”

The table fell into a rhythm then plates clinking, laughter bubbling in fits, soft conversation threading in and out. Outside, the mess tent buzzed with the quiet noise of a camp settling down for the evening: someone strumming a loose tune on a gut-string guitar, bootsteps trailing past canvas, the occasional bark of an engine turning over before finally sputtering into quiet.

Valerie leaned a little heavier into Judy’s side as the meal went on, but her plate slowly emptied, and the color in her cheeks held. Judy didn’t rush anything. Just matched her pace, one bite at a time.

Eventually, Sera rested her head briefly on Valerie’s shoulder, her voice a sleepy murmur. “Glad you’re up, Mom.”

Valerie kissed the top of her hair. “Me too, Starshine.”

The last bit of stew on Valerie’s plate had gone cold, but she didn’t seem to notice anymore. Sera leaned into her side, the corners of her mouth curled upward like she was holding back a smile too big for words.

Valerie nudged her gently with a shoulder. “You know,” she said, reaching for the juice bottle Judy had passed her, “the Racer used to be something else entirely.”

Sera blinked. “Wait…the real Racer?”

“The original,” Valerie said, nodding. “Matte purple Arch Nazare. Full torque, stripped fairing, custom tank I painted myself after a break-in scratched the finish. She was… sleek. Like she never really touched the ground.”

Judy grinned around her bite of cornbread. “That bike could glide. Noisy as hell, though. We always knew the cops could hear us before they saw us.”

Valerie laughed, a soft sound but real. “Yeah, and we never exactly took the quiet streets.”

Sera turned to her fully now, eyes wide. “You two rode around together on a racing bike through Night City?”

Judy leaned back on one arm. “Some of our best dates happened on that thing.”

Valerie tilted her head. “Late-night street races through Japantown. Burnouts near the edge of North Oak, just to piss off the corpos trying to sleep in their penthouses.”

“Or that one time you nearly knocked over that whole vending machine line outside the Afterlife,” Judy added, a lopsided grin tugging at her lips.

“That one,” Valerie said, “was your fault. You yelled ‘go’ when I wasn’t even in gear yet.”

“You were bragging,” Judy shrugged. “I was helping you prove it.”

Sera grinned. “So what happened to it?”

Valerie’s smile faded just a hair, settling into something softer. “Far as I know? Still sitting outside our old apartment on Charter Street. Unless someone stole it, or Arasaka scrapped the whole block when they torched the place. We left it behind when we ran.”

Sera frowned. “You didn’t go back for it?”

“We couldn’t,” Judy said, her voice gentler now. “Too many eyes. Too many people were hunting us. We barely got out with our lives, let alone the bike.”

A pause passed, not heavy just remembering.

Sera glanced toward Judy again. “What’s your best memory? You and Mom on the Racer.”

Judy’s eyes drifted, and for a second, the mess tent flickered away into memory. “One night,” she said slowly, “we rode out to the dam. Dead quiet. No traffic, no noise, just stars and the hum of the engine cooling down. Valerie set her guitar case down on the seat, strummed something real soft. We didn’t talk much. Just… listened.”

Valerie’s hand found hers under the table.

Judy glanced at her. “That’s the night I knew I was gonna marry her.”

Sera blinked, a smile breaking wide across her face. “Okay, yeah… that’s cooler than rocket-boosted toasters.”

Sandra made a scribble on the corner of her napkin. “Still drawing it anyway.”

Valerie laughed quietly, fingers squeezing Judy’s. “Just make sure the guitar’s strapped to the seat this time.”

Judy smiled, her dark brown eyes never leaving Valerie. “As long as you don't distract me, mi amor.”

Sera’s eyes lit just slightly, that spark of mischief never far behind her softer edges. She looked between Sandra and Vicky, already leaning a little forward over her plate.

“Hey… you think the scrapyard’s got any Nazare parts? Like, even busted ones?”

Her voice carried that tone, the kind that meant an idea had already taken root and was definitely not going away.

Sandra tilted her head, caught off-guard by the sudden glint in Sera’s eyes. “I mean… depends what kind. It’s mostly rust and broken solar rigs back there, but sometimes people bring in wrecked bikes.”

Vicky narrowed her gaze slightly, the way she always did when catching wind of a scheme. “You thinking about something specific, kid?”

Sera grinned, leaning forward across the table. “Just wondering if any Nazare frames are still intact. Or salvageable.”

Sandra blinked. “Wait…are you serious?”

Sera shrugged, but the spark was unmistakable. “Maybe. Just thinking out loud. That bike meant something to them, you know? Be kind of badass if it rolled again.”

Valerie let out a low chuckle beside Judy, one eyebrow arched. “Sera…”

“I’m not saying right now,” Sera said quickly, holding her hands up. “I just mean… it’s a piece of your history. Something you had to leave behind. If there’s even a chance a version of it could ride again…”

Judy leaned back slightly, arms crossed but the soft tug at the edge of her mouth betrayed her affection. “Gotta admit, it wouldn’t be the worst idea. Beats letting your drawings collect dust.”

Sandra’s eyes lit up. “I still say rocket boosters.”

Vicky snorted. “You add rocket boosters, you’re testing it on the other end of the camp.”

“I’ll wear armor,” Sandra shot back, already half-in on the plan.

Sera turned to Valerie now, more hesitant for just a breath. “You wouldn’t mind, right? If we tried to build something in its honor?”

Valerie met her daughter’s gaze, something catching in her chest. The idea of that purple bike being reborn not as a relic of what they lost, but something carried forward by the ones they still had.

Her hand closed gently around Judy’s again beneath the table.

“No,” she said, quiet and certain. “I wouldn’t mind at all.”

Judy glanced sideways at her, thumb brushing lightly along the back of Valerie’s hand beneath the table. “It’s a nice thought,” she said, voice low but honest. “Having something to look forward to.”

Valerie nodded once, slow. “Maybe once I’m back on my feet, we’ll see about it.” She shifted a little on the bench, the motion small but telling. “Right now I can’t ride, even if I wanted to.”

Sera’s expression didn’t falter. If anything, her grin softened, landing somewhere between understanding and determination. “Then we’ll start slow,” she said. “Doesn’t have to be perfect. Just something that reminds you of what mattered.”

Judy gave her daughter a tired, proud look. “You really are something else, Starshine.”

Sera bumped her shoulder against Sandra’s with a little laugh, then looked across the table again, already chewing on next steps. “I’ll check with Carol tomorrow. Maybe poke around the yard a bit. Just to see.”

Vicky raised her cup toward Sera with a mock ceremony. “If you drag any half-burned frame back to camp, you better be ready to sand it yourself.”

“Oh I will,” Sera said, eyes gleaming. “Helmet first. Paint last. We’ll make it beautiful.”

Judy turned her head, eyes narrowing playfully at Sera as she took another sip of water. “Just remember,” she said, setting the cup down and pointing a lazy finger in her daughter’s direction, “I’ve got to remove your mom’s stitches in the morning. So Sandra better not show up saying you got buried under a collapsed junk heap ‘cause someone thought they could wrestle a frame out solo.”

Sera grinned wide. “C’mon, Mama. I’m not that reckless.”

Sandra raised a brow. “You literally climbed the solar panel earlier.”

Sera shot her a mock glare. “That was different. That was exploration.”

Judy shook her head, laughing under her breath. “That was flirting with a concussion.”

“I didn’t fall, did I?” Sera said proudly, leaning back against Valerie’s side just enough to nudge her.

Valerie gave a long-suffering sigh, wrapping an arm around her shoulder. “Just don’t break yourself trying to impress me, Starshine. The bike can wait.”

Sera leaned her head against her mom’s arm for a second, eyes closed with a little smile. “It wouldn't be me if it didn’t have a little chaos in it.”

A few of the Aldecaldos had already started their quiet round boots scuffing over the dusty floor as trays were gathered, mugs stacked, and leftover cornbread mysteriously vanished by a pair of teens who thought no one saw. The light in the mess tent had started to soften, a warm lantern glow flickering gently off the canvas as the evening settled deeper into camp.

Judy stretched her arms with a soft groan, then pushed herself up from the bench. “Alright, mi cielo,” she said, ruffling Sera’s red hair lightly. “Help me get this mess cleared. Then it’s showers, and if you don’t pass out first, I’ll tell you more stories.”

Sera grinned, already reaching for the empty plates. “Hell yeah! But only if the story includes that one time you and Mom accidentally crashed into a noodle stand.”

Valerie made a choked sound into her juice, giving Judy a look over the rim of the bottle. “You told her that one?”

“She asked about our worst date,” Judy shot back, collecting a stack of trays. “I figured the one where we ruined dinner for half a block was a strong contender.”

“I was concussed,” Valerie muttered.

“And you still paid for everyone’s food,” Judy said, smirking over her shoulder. “You charmed the whole street.”

They fell into a steady rhythm, Sera carrying bowls, Judy handling the heavier dishes until the table was clean. Sandra stood to help, but Sera waved her off, her grin still wide.

“Nah, you did enough. I’ll catch you tomorrow, yeah?”

Sandra gave a soft smile. “Definitely. You think you’ll be up early?”

Sera shrugged. “I mean… depends how long the stories go.”

Sandra nudged her arm lightly. “Save me the good parts.”

“I’ll save you the embarrassing parts,” Sera teased back.

The two bumped fists, then Sera followed Judy out of the mess tent, Valerie already rising slowly behind them.

The air outside had cooled a little, night brushing gently across the camp with the scent of dust, engine grease, and mesquite smoke drifting from a campfire someone had just sparked near the center. Voices were lower now, a lull settling in as the clan wound down for the night.

Sera walked just behind Judy, her voice drifting as they crossed the open dirt path back toward the tents. “Okay, so tomorrow, I will definitely start the sketch. Purple frame, silver highlights… maybe a little room on the seat for legacy chaos.”

Judy glanced over her shoulder with a raised brow. “Does that mean me or Sandra?”

Sera’s grin stretched. “You’ll have to fight for it.”

Valerie just laughed, the sound softer now but full, wrapping itself into the night like something earned.

Inside the tent, the air was cooler now, dusk creeping in along the seams of the canvas. Valerie had already settled against the cot again, her legs stretched, arms resting loosely in her lap. She looked up as Judy stepped in with a tired smile, her fingers brushing at the ends of her red hair.

Judy tilted her head, matching the smile. “Can’t soak in the water, guapa,” she said, setting her hands on her hips with mock sternness. “But I at least need to clean you up before I pull those stitches in the morning.”

Valerie lifted a brow, grinning. “I’ll take what I can get. Haven’t showered since before the surgery. Honestly surprised you two haven’t biocontained me yet.”

From across the tent, Sera didn’t miss a beat. “Wait, that was an option?”

Valerie barked a soft laugh, her smile crinkling at the corners as she glanced over at her daughter. “Little gremlin.”

“Little honest gremlin,” Sera called back, already flopping across her cot with dramatic flair.

Judy shook her head, still chuckling as she moved toward the gear crate. She began gathering what they’d need: clean clothes, a rolled pair of shower sandals, a towel slung over her arm. She took her time with the bandages and ointment, making sure everything was within reach. The med bag clinked softly as she zipped it.

Valerie had shifted to standing now, still careful with her right leg, but steadier than earlier. “You sure you’re okay walking me there?” she asked, voice quieter.

Judy gave her a look. “I’m good. And you’re not going without me anyway.”

Together, they stepped outside into the dusky quiet of camp, the glow from a few overhead bulbs guiding the way past tents and stacked crates. The shower trucks stood near the east perimeter, tall, repurposed transport haulers, now outfitted with water tanks, drain grates, and heat coils running beneath their floor panels.

Sera peeled off toward the second one, whistling a tune under her breath as she bounded up the steps.

Valerie and Judy approached the first, Judy’s hand steady at her lower back again as they climbed the three short steps up into the enclosed bay. The air inside was already warm from residual steam, a faint citrus scent clinging to the plastic walls.

Judy reached back and pulled the door shut behind them with a soft click.

Valerie leaned slightly into the wall, stretching her leg out carefully as she slid off her clothes, watching as Judy hung the towel and unzipped the med kit.

“No jokes about nurse uniforms,” Judy warned lightly, glancing up.

Valerie smirked, voice soft. “Too late. You already look the part.”

Judy pulled the plastic shower stool from the corner, setting it just outside the reach of the sprayer where the warm mist wouldn’t catch them too directly. She tested its legs for stability, then turned to Valerie, fingers gentle as she helped Valerie peel off her tank top.

Valerie moved slowly, deliberate in each shift of weight, each motion across her sore joints. She said nothing at first, just gave Judy a look that carried something steady and warm. When she eased down onto the stool, her breath left her in a quiet sigh. Her hands moved to her waist, unwrapping the bandage with slow, practiced fingers, revealing the healing lines and faint bruising below.

Judy undressed with quiet efficiency, folding her clothes on a dry patch of counter near the med kit. She caught the way Valerie’s emerald eyes followed her, not hungry, not teasing. Just full of something soft and reverent, like the kind of looking that didn’t have to ask permission because it already belonged.

The water squeaked on behind her, warm and steady. Judy soaked a clean cloth under the stream, squeezed it out, and turned back toward her wife.

She knelt in front of her, cloth in hand, and started slowly wiping carefully along Valerie’s arms, the hollow of her collarbone, then down the line of her side. Her fingers brushed against the curve of Valerie’s ribs, tender where the muscle had strained from the earlier attack.

Valerie didn’t flinch. She leaned forward instead, breath warm against Judy’s skin, and pressed a kiss just beneath the darkened bruise along Judy’s ribcage.

Judy paused.

Not from pain.

Just… from the feel of it. That grounding gesture. That wordless I see you, I love you anchored in something deeper than comfort.

“You’re not supposed to be the one helping me,” Judy said, voice low but touched with a crooked smile.

Valerie tilted her head slightly. “Doesn’t mean I still don't want to.”

Judy shook her head and leaned in, letting her forehead rest lightly against Valerie’s. The wet cloth still dripped in her hand, forgotten for a second.

The water kept running in the background, soft and constant, like the hush between storms. The steam curled around them, clinging to skin, to hair, to the quiet that held both of them upright even when their bodies hadn’t quite caught up yet.

“Okay,” Judy whispered, brushing her lips once against Valerie’s forehead. “Let me finish this. Then I’ll take all the kisses you want to give.”

Valerie smiled, not moving back. “Is that a promise, babe?”

Judy pulled the cloth up again, steadying her voice. “Of course, mi amor.”

Judy’s hands were steady, her cloth slow as it glided down Valerie’s legs. She adjusted her touch near the faint bruise that still shadowed her left thigh where the stitches are just a lingering flush of color now, like the memory of pain rather than the thing itself. Valerie didn’t flinch. Her eyes were half-lidded, but she watched Judy the entire time.

Once her legs were rinsed clean, Judy stood, water beading across her skin as she stepped behind Valerie. Her fingers found the slope of her shoulders, cloth dragging softly across the line of old tension. Valerie’s breath caught just slightly as Judy reached the ridge of her spine, slow circles worked gently into the curve of her back.

Neither of them spoke.

Judy came back around after a minute, the cloth now barely damp. She paused in front of Valerie, who reached out, lifting her wife’s hand like it was something sacred. She kissed the knuckles each one, slow, reverent before holding it between both of hers.

Then she knelt again, leaning forward just enough to place a kiss beneath Valerie’s jaw, soft and anchoring. When she pulled back, she took a moment to wipe Valerie’s brow, brushing away the last misted beads of sweat clinging there. It was a ritual by now. Not just cleaning, but seeing, touching, claiming presence again.

Valerie whispered something too soft to catch, but Judy heard it in the shape of the smile she wore.

Turning back, Judy stepped into the spray herself. She moved slowly, letting the heat wash down over her neck and shoulders. When she reached up to clean the burn mark still raw at the edges, angry in a way her body hadn’t quite forgotten she winced slightly, but didn’t stop. She was deliberate in each pass of the cloth, rinsing grime and memory in equal measure.

Valerie watched her from the stool. The muscles in her arms, still tense from holding everything together, had eased. There were bags under Judy’s eyes, cuts across her knuckles, and a weariness that never really left anymore. But Valerie had never seen anything more beautiful.

Everything they’d gone through Phoenix, the pills, the fights, the aftermath it all coalesced into this: time carved out in steam and silence. She would’ve gone through it all again just to reach this exact moment.

Judy turned off the water, reaching for the towel slung over the wall hook. She dried herself first, quick and functional, then stepped forward, wrapping the warm fabric around Valerie’s arms and helping her up gently.

Valerie’s movements were cautious, but her grip wasn’t. As Judy leaned in to pat her shoulder dry, Valerie raised her hand, cupping the edge of Judy’s cheek and bringing her in.

The kiss was slow. Long. Neither one of them moved to end it.

Steam curled around them like a veil, water dripping quietly onto the tiled floor. That kiss was a balm not passion, not urgency. Just the ache of love stretched across every day they thought they might’ve lost.

Only after several breaths did they pull back, foreheads pressed together, lips still parted but smiling now.

Judy whispered, “We’ll finish up, head back to the tent. Then I’ll lay with you till the sun comes up if you want.”

Valerie just nodded, still holding her hand.

They dried off side by side, nothing hurried. Nothing wasted. Just quiet, clean skin and a world briefly held together by towel edges and touches that asked for nothing more than you’re still here.

Valerie smiled as she leaned back slightly, her breath still soft from the kiss, the warmth of Judy’s presence washing over her more than the towel ever could. “Laying next to you… telling Sera stories… sounds like the perfect night.”

Judy’s fingers ghosted along her waist, checking that the skin was dry enough. “Still a little pink,” she murmured. “But dry enough to wrap.”

She reached for the med kit, unrolling a length of gauze and dabbing ointment with a gentle steadiness like she’d done it a hundred times before. “One last wrap,” she said, voice calm. “Just to keep the stitches clean overnight.” Her hands were careful as she circled the bandage around Valerie’s waist, then moved lower, the pressure firmer but still measured as she wrapped the faint bruise at the stitches on Valerie’s left thigh barely there now, just a pale shadow of what it had been.

Valerie took the ointment when Judy handed it over, smoothing a thin layer over the healing burn on her shoulder before gently placing a fresh derma patch on top. Her hands lingered there for a second light, but full of care.

They didn’t say much after that. The hush wasn’t awkward, it was shared. Valerie idly combed her fingers through Judy’s, pink-and-green hair, untangling the ends in slow motions. Judy glanced up, smiling quietly.

“You want help getting dressed?” she asked.

Valerie shook her head, eyes soft. “I can try. Just grab the clothes and I'll give it a shot.”

Judy nodded, already moving to close up the med kit, latching the lid with one hand. She stepped over to the bench, grabbed their set-out clothes: a pair of underwear and cotton shorts each, matching tank tops folded loosely on top.

Returning to Valerie’s side, she handed the bundle off slowly. Valerie braced herself against Judy’s side, sliding on the underwear first, then her shorts with a careful tug that drew a small breath through her nose. When she eased the tank top over her head and pulled it down, she looked up, slow, but proud.

“Did it,” she muttered.

Judy gave her a look that was equal parts admiration and love. “Never doubted you, mi amor.”

Valerie steadied herself, walking to the shower truck door and slipping her feet into the well-worn sandals, the straps soft from sun and time. Judy gathered the dirty clothes, their boots, and the medkit in her arms before slipping into her own pair of shower sandals.

Valerie reached for the pile. “I’ll carry the clothes.”

Judy gave her a once-over, watching her posture, the slight sway in her balance. “Alright,” she said, handing over just the clothes and keeping the heavier things herself. “But I’m not above stealing them back if you start listing.”

Valerie shifted the bundle of clothes against her chest, giving Judy a look that was part tired, part amused. “If I start tipping over, you’ve got better arm strength anyway.”

Judy huffed a laugh, still watching her closely. “I’ll keep catching you mi amor.”

The air outside was cooler now, touched with the first signs of desert night. Dust clung low to the ground, and overhead the sky had cracked wide open stars bright and full against the black.

Judy kept close as they walked down the small steps, her body angled subtly to catch Valerie if anything faltered.

Just ahead, leaning back against the support rail between the two trucks, Sera stood barefoot in her sleep clothes, her hair still damp. She was staring up at the sky, arms crossed loose, a quiet peace in her posture.

She looked over when she heard them, a smile easing across her face. “You clean up alright,” she teased.

Valerie chuckled. “Can’t let you be the only decent-smelling person in camp.”

Sera laughed softly, stepping aside so they could pass. “The stars are really bright tonight.”

Judy nodded, gaze flicking upward for a breath before landing back on her wife. “Yeah,” she murmured. “They really are.”

Sera’s voice came soft behind them, eyes still tilted skyward. “I get why she named me that now.”

Valerie turned slightly, brows rising.

Sera didn’t look away from the stars. “She used to say I lit up the dark for her. That when I was born, it was like everything else finally made sense.”

She smiled then small, real and looked at both of them. “That’s how you two make me feel now. Like how I made her feel back then.”

Valerie’s breath caught sharp in her chest, her fingers tightening slightly around the towel still tucked at her side. “That means a lot, Starshine.”

Judy reached over, brushing the edge of Sera’s hair, fingers light against the still-damp strands. “Sindy picked a good name. For an amazing girl.”

The quiet that followed wasn’t heavy. It settled over them like the warm hush of cooling dust, the kind that asked for no explanation, no hurry.

Then Sera grinned, ever the disruptor of too-long silences. “Okay… so you two got any stories in mind for tonight?”

Valerie smirked. “You’ve heard all the merc stories. The guns, the gigs, the bars. How about one the streets never talked about?”

Sera’s eyes lit up, wide with sudden hunger. “Oh yes. Give me the forbidden lore.”

Judy laughed, shaking her head. “Let’s get your mom back to the tent first before the clothes tip her over.”

Valerie let out a low chuckle, shifting the bundle in her arms. “I’m stable. Mostly.”

They headed off together, Sera bounding ahead across the packed dirt, while Valerie and Judy moved slower, side by side. The wind had quieted, camp sounds tapering down for the night, the last guitar strum, a soft thud of boots against a truck step, someone zipping closed a tent.

Inside, the canvas air felt warmer somehow.

Valerie dropped the folded laundry onto the top of a crate by the flap, the weight leaving her arms with a grateful exhale. Sera peeled off and tossed her own into the pile beside her cot, already halfway to turning on the lantern.

Judy set the boots gently beside the cot, first aid kit clicking shut as she slid it down beside them. She stepped out of her sandals with a soft shuffle, slipping into the cot behind Valerie as she eased herself down, one hand bracing the edge while the other reached for Judy’s arm.

Sera was already burrowed into her blanket, chin propped on a pillow, looking over at them like a kid waiting for campfire tales.

“So,” she said, eyes bright, voice low. “What story are we getting tonight?”

Valerie looked at Judy for a second, then leaned back against her, fingers brushing gently along Judy’s arm.

Valerie leaned her head back against the canvas wall, fingers still loosely laced with Judy’s. “Alright. You’ve heard the merc stories… how about something the street legends never bothered to tell?”

Sera perked up immediately on her cot, blanket bunched around her legs. “Yes. Please.”

Judy gave a tired smile, nudging Valerie’s shoulder. “She’s never told this one out loud.”

Valerie glanced at her, then back to Sera. “Before I ever went solo, back when I still had both feet halfway in the fixer world, there was this job. Midtown extraction small gig, no gunfire expected. The client was an old Corpo daughter looking to vanish clean.”

Sera blinked. “That sounds… kinda huge.”

“It was,” Valerie said softly. “Too big for someone who didn’t know how to say no yet. I was cocky. Thought the street rep could carry me through.”

Judy didn’t interrupt, just let her speak.

“I took the job. But I didn’t bring backup. Not even Judy, back then.” Her voice went quiet for a moment. “The client never showed. Militech did. I had three minutes to run or die.”

Sera sat up straighter, silent now.

“I made it out,” Valerie continued, “but I left behind a case full of forged IDs and burner shards. Took me months to rebuild. I slept in alley ducts. Used up every favor I had. And when I finally got a ping on another job, you know who was waiting for me at the safehouse?”

Judy raised her eyebrows at Sera. “Me. With a bag of soy paste, a half-charged pistol, and a backup plan.”

Valerie looked at her and smiled, soft. “She didn’t say ‘told you so.’ She just made coffee. Stayed up all night rewriting my exit plan.”

Sera’s emerald eyes had gone glossy. “That was before you were together?”

Judy nodded. “Way before. But I knew even then Val was worth staying up for.”

Sera didn’t say anything at first. Just hugged her pillow and murmured, “I like that story.”

Valerie’s voice was quiet. “I didn’t always get things right. But I learned who I could trust. That mattered more.”

Sera blinked down at the pillow for a second, then looked up again. “So… was that when you became friends?”

Judy tilted her head slightly. “Close. Maybe a week or two before. She was still trying to act like she didn’t need anyone.”

Valerie gave a snort. “I was broke, bruised, and living on vending machine noodles. My pride was doing all the talking.”

Judy grinned, dark brown eyes catching the faint lantern light. “Until Jackie dragged her to Lizzie’s.”

Sera perked up. “Wait, Jackie as in Jackie Welles?”

“Mmhmm,” Valerie said, letting her head rest lightly against Judy’s again. “First person I met in Night City who didn’t try to scam me on day one.”

Judy’s voice softened a little, the memory touching something in her chest. “He brought her in to blow off steam. Said she needed distraction. Turns out the distraction was me.”

Valerie smiled wide now, the kind that lingered in her eyes. “She was leaning in a hallway. Tank top, heavy boots, and that shaved side that made her look like she could break your heart or fix your entire operating system.”

Sera laughed under her breath. “Sounds about right.”

“I’d just finished watching one of her BDs,” Valerie continued. “Didn’t even know it was hers until I saw her. Told her the creator had guts.”

“You said I had taste,” Judy corrected, nudging her lightly.

Valerie lifted her chin, mock offended. “Same thing.”

Sera shook her head fondly. “And that’s when you became friends?”

Judy nodded. “Started that night. We got drinks. Bitched about our exes.”

Valerie raised her brows. “Bonded over being catastrophically unlucky in love.”

“And somehow,” Judy added, “that turned into movie nights and fixing broken headwear in her ratty apartment.”

“And gigs where she patched me up after I got cocky,” Valerie said.

Sera smiled again, softer this time. “I like this version of the story more.”

Valerie gave her a tired grin. “What, less bullets and rooftop chases?”

“Still has rooftop chases,” Judy said with a shrug. “Just more soy paste and friendship bracelets.”

Sera let out a snort, curling back into her blanket. “Tell me another one tomorrow?”

“Anytime, Starshine,” Valerie said, her voice low and warm now.

The lantern’s glow dimmed just a little, the edges of the tent falling into stillness again. Judy’s fingers brushed lightly across Valerie’s hand, both of them sinking into that hush that only came with earned peace.

For that moment, nothing else pressed in. Just the sound of quiet breaths, and the closeness of the people they’d built a life around.

The tent had settled into that hush where even the canvas walls seemed to breathe slower. One by one, the sounds of the camp dimmed the soft rumble of a passing rig, the faint clink of tools packed away, someone’s voice calling out a final goodnight, then silence folding in again like a worn blanket.

Sera had rolled to her side, facing the dim flicker of the lantern, her breathing already slow and steady. She didn’t speak again, but the smile she’d fallen asleep with hadn’t faded. Her sketchbook still sat at the foot of her cot, half a page filled with jagged outlines and stray stars, pencil tucked just beneath the edge like she might grab it again the moment her eyes opened.

Valerie shifted gently, leaning back into the cot with a soft exhale. The dull ache in her leg was still there, and the weight of healing pulled at her bones in quiet ways, but nothing sharp. Nothing urgent. She let her fingers drift toward Judy, brushing over her wrist as Judy lay beside her now, turned in close, her own limbs finally still.

Judy’s eyes were closed, but not all the way lost to sleep yet. She hummed once, low in her throat, just acknowledgment, maybe comfort. Valerie let her hand rest lightly there against Judy’s forearm, feeling the calm hum of the link between them faint, like the echo of a heartbeat through water.

“Are you warm enough?” Judy murmured, voice rough with exhaustion but still laced with care.

“Mmhm,” Valerie breathed. “Just right.”

They didn’t need the rest of the words. Not tonight.

Outside, the wind pulled faintly through the edge of camp, lifting a loose bit of tarp somewhere with a soft snap. But it didn’t rattle the tent. Didn’t shake the stillness they’d carved out inside. Valerie let her emerald eyes drift closed, her head angled just slightly toward Judy’s. She could feel her wife's breath against her shoulder, warm and even now.

This time, she didn’t fight sleep. Didn’t try to stay awake to prove she could. She let it take her slowly, gently, knowing Judy was right there.

Across the tent, Sera stirred once in her sleep, murmuring something about jet engines and cornbread before going quiet again.

Judy smiled to herself, finally letting the last threads of wakefulness slip from her fingers. The lantern dimmed to a low hum. The camp fell fully into the night.

The Alvarez tent, for one more peaceful stretch of time, held nothing but rest.

The light in the tent came gradual, soft at first just a faint shift through the canvas walls as the sun crept over the horizon. Then came the sounds.

Voices. Boots. Engines warming. Someone shouting for a diagnostic reader, followed by the sharp metallic thunk of something dropped, then a string of swears muffled by distance.

Valerie blinked awake slowly, the sleep still thick in her limbs. Her body protested the shift, not with sharp pain, but with that deep ache that told her healing was real, but not finished. She didn’t move yet. Just listened.

The camp was already in motion.

Beside her, Judy stirred at nearly the same time, brows drawing in slightly as she registered the noise outside. She didn’t sit up right away either. Just shifted a little closer, one hand brushing against Valerie’s waist.

“Morning,” Judy rasped.

Valerie grunted. “Is it?”

“Unless the world’s ending is louder than usual,” Judy mumbled, “yeah. Morning.”

Another shout carried from outside, closer this time something about misfiled coolant rations and a missing drone. Then came the low growl of two rigs pulling out in quick succession, gravel crunching beneath thick tires.

Valerie let her arm slide across her eyes, groaning. “Tell me we’re not expected to join double patrols.”

Judy snorted. “We’re still technically on the ‘don’t die’ portion of the recovery schedule.”

Valerie turned her head, just enough to catch Judy’s sleepy face half-hidden in the pillow. “You think Vicky’ll enforce that?”

Judy gave a slow blink. “I think Vicky made peace with Sandra’s chaos. She won’t poke this bear if she knows what’s good for her.”

Valerie huffed a soft laugh.

From somewhere nearby, Sera groaned into her pillow. “Ugh. Why is the camp shouting?”

Judy leaned up on her elbow, rubbing a hand through her hair. “Vicky said yesterday something about diagnostics and double patrols. Probably trying to recalibrate half the camp before noon.”

Valerie pushed herself upright with a quiet grunt, stretching her legs out in front of her, wincing slightly at the pull in her thigh. “They sound more wired than usual.”

Judy nodded. “Something’s definitely got ‘em riled.”

Sera sat up now, her red hair sticking up in five different directions. “Do I need to put on real pants?”

Valerie chuckled. “Depends if you’re helping or hiding.”

Sera squinted at the tent flap, considering. “I’ll get the cereal first. Then assess.”

Judy swung her legs off the cot, standing with a stretch, already reaching for her tank top and shorts. “Sounds like a plan.”

Valerie leaned back on her hands, watching the soft morning light stretch across the tent floor. Her body still ached. Her side felt tight where the bandage wrapped, but it was better than yesterday, and the day before.

Outside, the engine sounds continued. Orders barked. The hum of a camp alive, but here, inside, they still had a moment. A breath. Enough for coffee. Enough to start slow.

“I’ll find out what the hell’s going on out there,” she said. “But first Starshine, save me some cereal.”

Sera gave a lazy salute, dragging herself toward her pile of clothes.

Judy kissed Valerie’s cheek on the way past, murmuring, “I’ll boil water.”

Just like that, the Alvarez tent eased into its morning. The world spun outside, fast and full of static, but inside, it started with warmth.

Sera tugged the curtain shut between the cots with a faint swoosh, hooking the edge to one of the support loops Judy had fastened there days ago. “Privacy achieved,” she mumbled, voice still scratchy with sleep, then disappeared back behind the fabric to shuffle through her clothes.

Valerie stood slowly, pausing long enough to slide her sandals back on before ducking outside. The morning light hit her face full-on bright, clean, the kind of sun that made everything sharper but didn’t yet burn. Her emerald eyes narrowed slightly as they adjusted, and for a second she just stood there, breathing it in.

Across the camp, near the comms truck, Mitch was pacing with a diagnostic pad in one hand, his other arm crossed tightly over his chest. Valerie recognized the posture of his ‘thinking too loud’ stance.

She made her way over, boots still off, steps soft against the dirt and gravel. “Morning,” she said as she approached. “What’s with all the excitement?”

Mitch looked up, the lines around his eyes deeper than usual. He scratched at the back of his head with a sigh. “Well… yesterday Panam had everything lined up for double patrols, y’know standard sweep, engine diagnostics, checking the perimeter sensors.”

Valerie tilted her head, watching the subtle tension in Mitch’s stance. “So… what changed?”

“Now,” Mitch said, his voice dropping, “we’re missing a drone. Last night’s patrol couldn’t reestablish the link after sundown. And comms started picking up some weird static pulses… like interference, but not random. Almost patterned.”

Valerie’s brow creased, that familiar tension crawling beneath her skin. “You think it has something to do with the Phoenix run?”

Mitch exhaled slowly through his nose. “Can’t say yet. But if it is tied to Judy’s trip… that means Kassidy might’ve played you both. Made the trade, then pinged someone after.”

Valerie folded her arms, her voice cool. “She was always good at twisting her words. Probably found a way to skirt the deal without breaking it clean.”

Mitch’s jaw flexed. “Yeah. Could be she brokered info, not names. Someone else tracking relay pulses or supply chains. We don’t know who we’re dealing with yet. But Panam’s setting up a tighter perimeter. I’ve got two techs watching the comms feed every hour.”

“Do you need us?” Valerie asked without hesitation.

Mitch shook his head. “Appreciate it. But no, at least not yet. You focus on your recovery.”

Valerie didn’t push. Just nodded. “Judy’s taking my stitches out soon. I’ll be back on my feet before long.”

“Then we’ll talk,” Mitch said, glancing down at the pad again. “Until then, we’ve got it covered.”

Valerie touched his arm lightly before turning back. “Let us know if that changes.”

She started back toward the Alvarez tent, sun at her back now, camp noise slowly rising behind her engines rumbling to life, boots crunching in patrol formation, someone shouting about sensor calibration near the perimeter truck.

She slipped past the curtain flap just as Judy was finishing brushing her hair, the cereal bowls already clinking faintly on the makeshift table beside them. Sera was seated cross-legged on her cot again, spoon halfway to her mouth.

Judy glanced up, her dark brown eyes immediately checking Valerie head to toe. “Everything okay?”

Valerie nodded, voice quiet but even. “We might have a signal ghost. One of the drones went dark. Mitch is keeping an eye on it.”

Judy frowned. “You think Kassidy…”

“Maybe.” Valerie didn’t sit just yet, but she let her hand rest on Judy’s shoulder. “But we’ve got time. We’re still breathing. Let’s just eat for now.”

Sera glanced between them, then reached over and handed her mom a spoon.

“Cereal first,” she said. “Trouble can wait a few bites.”

The cereal bowl settled with a soft clink into Valerie’s hands as she took the spoon from Sera, easing herself down onto her cot. Judy was already perched nearby, combing her fingers through the last of her hair, a lazy arc of sunlight catching faint green in the strands that trailed down her shoulder.

She glanced up, her eyes sweeping over Valerie automatically an old habit, bone-deep now. “You’re not limping,” she noted, brow raised slightly. “Leg holding up okay?”

Valerie shrugged with a small breath, the spoon tapping once against the edge of the bowl. “Maybe just adrenaline,” she murmured. “Woke up to all that commotion, guess it jump-started the nerves.”

Sera rocked her bare feet off the edge of her cot, legs swinging. “So does that mean the bad guys are coming for us?” Her voice was light but curious. “’Cause they should really know better than to mess with my moms.”

That earned a sputter from Judy, who barely caught her cereal from tipping over as she sat beside Valerie. “Damn right,” she said, grinning through her mouth. “Whoever they are, they’ll regret messing with the Aldecaldos before breakfast’s even done.”

Valerie nudged her with her knee. “Think you’re gonna trademark that?”

Judy smirked. “Already did. Might put it on a shirt.”

Valerie looked over to Sera, the last of the amusement still soft in her voice. “You still want to help Vicky and Sandra today? My guess is R&D’s not designing dream bikes anymore. Probably scrambling to fix and rebuild sensor arrays after last night.”

Sera gave a half-shrug, twisting her curls around one finger. “Maybe in a bit. After the stitches. I kinda wanna draw out the frame for the Racer first, at least the base sketch. Gotta get it right before I go pulling scrap.”

“Enjoy the quiet for now, mi Cielo,” Judy said, brushing her hand lightly across Sera’s shoulder as she passed behind her. “They’ll be glad to have you whenever you’re ready.”

Valerie dipped her spoon again, raising it with a smirk. “Right now I just want to finish these oats without anyone starting a war.”

Sera giggled. “No promises.”

A few minutes passed in the hush of routine just the sound of cereal scraping gently in bowls, boots scuffing now and then outside, distant calls from the garage and Mitch’s voice barked sharp near the comms tent. The world spun on, always did. But here, for the moment, the inside of the Alvarez tent felt held together by quiet intention.

Eventually, the bowls were set aside. The morning pushed forward.

Another step toward healing.

Unseen, far beyond the edge of camp, wind kicked dust over a set of tire tracks already half-erased. Something stirred in the outer sands watching. Waiting, but not close enough.

Valerie smiled at Sera as she shifted upright. “Okay, Starshine hold down the fort for a little bit.”

Sera had already scooped her sketchpad from the foot of the cot, legs folding under her with practiced ease. “If anybody tries to steal your guitar,” she said, grinning, “I’ll whack ’em with one of your books.”

Valerie laughed, reaching for a clean tank top and folding it around her arm along with a pair of worn jeans. “And people say words can’t hurt you.”

Judy shook her head from where she was strapping the med kit shut. “I’m stuck with a gremlin and a menace.”

“You love us,” Valerie and Sera said in unison, not missing a beat.

Judy groaned, wrapping her arm around Valerie’s waist. “C’mon, mi amor. Let’s get those stitches out before our daughter becomes a deadly book assassin.”

Sera made exaggerated kung fu noises behind them as she sketched, complete with her own sound effects. Valerie laughed again, leaning briefly into Judy’s side.

“Alright, cyber ninja,” she called over her shoulder. “Be back soon.”

“See you soon, moms,” Sera replied brightly, not looking up, already deep into outlining the front of a rebuilt Racer.

Judy lingered a moment longer by the tent flap. “Hey, can you take the bowls to the mess tent for us?”

Sera gave a mock salute. “On it.”

Then they stepped outside together, the morning already warming. Gravel shifted beneath their feet as they moved slowly along the camp path. A few Aldecaldos passed by with crates or cables slung over shoulders, nodding greetings. The low buzz of a small drone floated overhead near the mess tent, casting a faint whir that trailed off toward the perimeter fences.

The medical tent wasn’t far just across the clearing, tucked near a small outcrop of old solar panels and patched tarps. Judy stayed close, not rushing Valerie, letting her set the pace.

“Shouldn’t be more than ten minutes,” Judy murmured, voice low against the ambient clangs of the waking camp. “Then we’ll figure out the rest of the day.”

Valerie squeezed her hand lightly. “One step at a time.”

They reached the flap of the med tent just as a breeze kicked up, stirring the canvas and carrying the scent of dust, breakfast spice, and something faintly metallic on the wind. Judy pulled it open, steadying it for Valerie to duck in first.

Inside, the light was gentler. Cool shade, a folding table prepped with sterilizer, gauze, and clean scissors. Time to begin.

Judy guided Valerie over with one hand at the small of her back, the other nudging the curtain aside. The faint hum of the generator behind the tent gave a steady rhythm to the otherwise quiet space.

“Here,” she said gently, nodding to the metal stand just beside the padded table. Valerie set her tank and jeans down neatly on top of it, folded the way she always did old habits born from years of stolen moments and half-safe places.

Judy placed the med kit on the folding table already prepped with gauze, antiseptic, and scissors. She popped the latch open with a practiced flick, eyes scanning the instruments one more time. Clean. Ready.

Valerie hopped up onto the edge of the table with a small exhale. Not from pain, just the weight of a healing body and a long week. She peeled off the tank, slow and careful, then looked at Judy as she began easing down her cotton shorts.

Judy stepped in to help, her hands warm and steady, guiding the fabric off Valerie’s hips, mindful of the bandaged spots. Once done, she crouched slightly, hands moving gently as she unwound the wrap from Valerie’s thigh, then stood again to begin with the waist.

Valerie leaned back slowly, the cool surface pressing to her shoulder blades as she let her head rest against the slight incline of the table. Her chest rose in a steady breath.

Judy crossed to the cabinet, pulled a fresh pair of gloves from the top drawer, and grabbed the curved tweezers from a tray inside. She flexed the tips once, tested the scissors against the light, then made her way back to Valerie’s side.

“I’ll start with the thigh,” she said, her voice low but certain. “Those’ll come out quick. Then we’ll do your midsection. Gotta take my time with those.”

Valerie gave the smallest nod, eyes fluttering shut. Her hand curled lightly at her side, fingers brushing the edge of the mat. And through the Link soft, subtle Judy felt it. That tether. That pulse.

It wasn’t fear.

Just trust.

She moved into position, kneeling slightly to get the angle she needed, one hand bracing Valerie’s thigh while the other began her work steady, precise.

Valerie breathed. Not heavy, or strained.

Just breathing, surrounded by the quiet care of the woman who refused to ever let her fall.

Fifteen minutes had passed in a steady rhythm of breath and precision, tweezers clicking gently, bandages curling into neat stacks. Judy peeled the gloves off with a practiced flick, letting them drop into the disposal bin near the folding table. She turned to the cabinet, unscrewed the cap off the water jug, and splashed a little over her hands. The metal sink nearby caught the soft slap of it as droplets scattered off her fingers.

“All done, mi amor,” she said, drying her hands on the small towel slung over the edge of the table.

Valerie sat up slowly, her spine stretching, arms lifting over her head with a soft exhale. Her fingers slid down across her bare midsection, tracing the skin where the stitches had been. “Don’t I get a lollipop?” she teased, eyes half-lidded with amusement.

Judy snorted, walking back over. “Like Vik ever gave you a lollipop.”

Valerie grinned and reached down, running her fingers along the outside of her thigh. “Feels good… moving without that little edge of panic. Like something’s about to split.”

Judy’s hand drifted up to the lotus tattoo inked into Valerie’s shoulder, her fingers brushing gently along the petal lines. “Still gotta take it easy. Give your skin time to catch up. The nurse recommends no backflips off the rig for at least twenty-four hours.”

Valerie chuckled. “Damn. Here I was, planning to storm Phoenix before lunch.”

Judy raised an eyebrow. “You do that, and you’re not getting a kiss from the nurse.”

“Oh no,” Valerie smirked. “Still know how to reel me in.”

Judy leaned in then, cupping Valerie’s freckled cheek with both hands, thumb grazing just beneath her eye. The kiss was slow, lips warm and familiar, grounding. When they pulled apart, Valerie’s emerald eyes fluttered open again, grin widening. “Much better than a lollipop.”

Judy shook her head, soft amusement in her eyes, and offered her hand. “C’mon, warrior. Let’s get you dressed.”

Valerie took it, her grip steady, letting Judy help her ease off the table. She grabbed her clean tank and pulled it over her head with slow care, the cotton smoothing down over her ribs. Judy helped her slide into her jeans next, steadying her as she stepped into each leg, then zipping them gently before stepping back so Valerie could lean into her sandals.

Valerie’s arm slid naturally around Judy’s waist, tucking into the curve of her side, like muscle memory.

Then… a shift.

Subtle at first, just a change in weight distribution. Valerie’s grip faltered, her body slackening against Judy.

Judy caught her immediately, her hands tightening around her waist, pulling her in close. “Val…hey…hey, I’ve got you.” Her voice dropped low, steady but urgent, grounding them both.

Valerie didn’t collapse, not fully, but her balance tipped, breath catching in a way that wasn’t just fatigue.

Judy’s heart kicked faster, her hand sliding up behind Valerie’s neck. “Breathe, mi amor. You with me?”

Judy’s pulse was already spiking. Valerie didn’t answer. Just sagged heavier against her, the warmth still there, but the strength gone.

“Val…” Judy caught her breath, her arms looping under Valerie’s to lift her back onto the table. The movement was quick but careful years of experience guiding every touch. Valerie’s head lolled slightly as Judy braced her against the raised edge, one hand moving to support her jaw as the other reached for the med kit.

The latch snapped open. Judy grabbed two slim red stabilization pills, barely heavier than dust, and then the water jug, hand shaking now as she uncapped it.

“Come on, babe,” she whispered, shifting her grip to support Valerie’s neck as she pressed the pill to her lips. “Swallow. Please.”

She coaxed the water in slow, careful tilts, her other hand guiding Valerie’s throat. The first pill went down. Then the second. Judy exhaled, but the cold hadn’t left her chest.

“You didn’t spike the Link,” she said, voice rising, panic threading in spite of herself. “I didn’t feel it Val, come on come back to me.”

The edge in her tone carried further than she realized.

Carol’s boots thudded just once on the wood platform outside before the curtain was yanked open.

“What happened?” she asked, eyes already locked on the slumped figure on the table.

Judy didn’t look away from Valerie, didn’t stop cradling her upright. “She just… collapsed. No warning. She was fine two minutes ago walking, even. I thought it was over, but…”

Carol was already moving, grabbing a diagnostics reader off the wall rack, fingers flying over the interface.

“Did she take anything this morning?” Carol asked quickly.

“Just had breakfast,” Judy snapped, then steadied herself. “No meds yet. Nothing new. Her stitches came out clean.”

Carol slid the reader under Valerie’s wrist and watched the numbers flicker to life. Judy held her tighter, forehead brushing against Valerie’s temple, willing her to stay tethered.

“She’s not crashing,” Carol muttered, scanning again. “Vitals are sluggish, but not dropping.”

“Then what is it?” Judy whispered, not even sure if she was asking Carol or the room or herself. “She was fine. We were laughing…she kissed me…she kissed me, Carol.”

Carol looked up then, her voice quieter. “Maybe that’s the cost right now. She gave too much too soon.”

Judy closed her eyes, hand sliding along Valerie’s back, gripping gently at her side. “She can’t keep doing this alone…”

Valerie’s lips moved then, just faintly. A twitch. No sound, but enough.

Judy’s heart caught in her throat. “There you are. There you are.”

Valerie’s lips stayed in that soft motion, partway between a word and a breath, but no sound came. Her chest rose slow and steady too steady, like her body was moving on memory alone.

Carol’s scanner chirped softly, the pale blue readout shifting again. She angled it toward Judy without a word, her finger tapping the central shape now appearing on the screen.

“When was her last attack?”

Judy didn’t glance at the scan. She was too focused on Valerie’s hand in hers, her thumb gently circling the back of it. “Yesterday afternoon,” she said quietly. “After lunch. Sera saw it happen. But she stabilized after that, slept through most of the evening, and joked around before bed. This morning? No trouble. Walked to the clinic on her own.”

Carol’s mouth pressed into a tight line as she turned the scanner slightly, highlighting a dark mass nestled deep in the center of Valerie’s brain. “The nanites already repaired the outer cortex see here? But all of them moved inward, clustered tight around this central node. That concentration could’ve triggered an internal crash system overload.”

Judy’s jaw clenched. “I didn’t feel it through the Link because it wasn’t a spike,” she murmured. “Wasn’t a pain surge or fracture…”

“No,” Carol said, nodding. “This wasn’t damage expanding. It was the nanites waiting pooling in the same place for too long, too focused. One wrong signal and her body probably just… shut down to reset.”

Judy’s eyes flicked to the scan, to the slow shimmer now appearing across the black spot. Tiny lights began to branch outward, like static loosening from a coil.

“That movement?” Carol continued, lowering her voice. “That’s from the pills. They’re pushing new signals across her system, forcing the nanites to redistribute. Once they’re working again, she’ll come back.”

Valerie’s hand twitched under Judy’s.

Not a reflex. A reaction.

Judy caught her breath. “Val…”

Carol looked back down, adjusting a setting. “Clusters are dispersing. Good sign.”

Judy leaned in closer, brushing a knuckle across Valerie’s cheekbone. “Come back to me, babe…”

Then slow, hesitant Valerie’s eyelashes fluttered. Her eyes blinked open, unfocused at first, emerald glass catching the overhead light like it was too bright. Her fingers shifted again against Judy’s, not with strength, but with intent.

Judy’s breath shook as she exhaled. She let her forehead fall gently against Valerie’s. “Hey, mi amor.”

Carol didn’t shift her weight, just kept watching the readout as the lines softened, pulsed gently. “There shouldn’t be any more neural spikes after this,” she said calmly. “Not unless there’s another trauma. The nanites already handled the worst of it, those deep-core ruptures that caused the spikes in the first place. That’s over.”

Judy’s grip never loosened from Valerie’s hand. She brushed her thumb slowly, listening.

“They’re still doing cleanup,” Carol continued, adjusting the scan once more. “Small tears. Misfiring signal lines. But the key now is keeping them distributed. If she takes one of those red stabilizers each day, they’ll stay engaged spread out. No more clustering like today.”

Judy nodded once. “And after that?”

Carol glanced up, expression unreadable for a moment before she exhaled. “When the work’s done, she’ll get a nosebleed. Severe, most likely. It’ll look worse than it is. It's just her body flushing the excess. Purging the nanites after they finish.”

Judy leaned back just slightly, her posture relaxing an inch. “Should’ve come to you sooner,” she murmured. “I thought you just fixed tech.”

Carol gave a dry half-smile. “Nanites are tech. Just very, very small and very, very rude.”

That’s when Valerie stirred more fully, her lashes fluttering again before her head lolled a bit toward the sound of their voices. She blinked slowly, her pupils still adjusting to the light, still floating somewhere between conscious and caught in the fog.

“Technically,” she croaked out, voice scratchy but full of that familiar spark, “aren’t nanites just… really fancy tech?”

Judy let out a choked laugh, biting back the emotion behind it. “There she is.”

Carol stepped back slightly, the scanner lowered as she undid the monitor on Valerie’s wrist. “Should be cleared within the month,” she said, voice steady. “Sooner if you’re lucky. But your supply will last just keep taking one a day, same time if you can. It’ll keep the nanites on task.”

Judy nodded, her fingers still resting lightly over Valerie’s. “Thanks, Carol. Really.”

Carol gave a short nod. “Keep the comm link on in case anything shifts. But I think you’re past the worst of it.”

Valerie blinked up at Judy again, her smile lazy, lips still dry but tugging upward with effort. “So… no nosebleeds yet?”

Judy huffed a laugh, voice soft. “Not yet. Still got your winning smile intact.”

Valerie exhaled, eyes half-lidded. “Well. At least you don’t have to knock out my ex again.”

Judy gave her a look, part amusement, part exhaustion, part pure love, and shook her head as she leaned closer, brushing her lips against Valerie’s temple.

“You keep talking like that, I’m gonna ban sarcasm in the med tent.”

Valerie grinned. “You’d never survive.”

Carol didn’t look up from her gear, but the faintest smirk pulled at her mouth as she turned back toward the cabinet, the silence behind her thick with something hard-earned and steady like they’d just bought back a little more of the future.

Carol set the scanner back on the metal stand, stretching her shoulder as she reached for the door. “Alright back to getting my morning coffee before Mitch drinks the last of it. You two take care. And don’t be a stranger if anything feels off.”

Valerie gave a soft smile, her voice a little raspier than usual but steady. “Thanks, Carol.”

Judy nodded, brushing her fingers gently along Valerie’s side. “See you around.”

The flap swung closed behind Carol, and the silence that followed was a different kind, less clinical, more intimate. Valerie leaned up slowly, careful with her balance this time, watching Judy from beneath a sweep of red hair that had fallen into her eyes.

Judy was still watching her too close, too alert.

Valerie reached out, lightly tugging on the hem of Judy’s tank top until their eyes met. “How about we don’t tell Sera about this?” she said, her voice quiet. “I’m okay. We shouldn’t worry her.”

Judy didn’t answer right away. Her jaw shifted, the protest rising but catching somewhere behind her teeth. She reached out instead, tucking that loose strand of red hair behind Valerie’s ear, letting her thumb brush along the edge of her cheekbone.

“She’ll ask,” Judy said finally.

“I’ll tell her I got a little lightheaded after the stitches came out,” Valerie murmured, trying for a smirk but not quite making it. “Technically true.”

Judy huffed, low. “You and your half-truths.”

Valerie leaned forward, pressing her forehead against Judy’s. “I just want today to be good for her. She was smiling this morning. Let’s hold onto that a little longer.”

Judy exhaled, her hand resting at the base of Valerie’s neck. “Okay. But you’re holding my hand the whole way.”

Valerie grinned, softer this time. “Dont I always, babe.”

They stayed there for a few more seconds, quiet breath, shared warmth then Judy pulled back just enough to help her down off the table again, both of them moving slowly. The weight of what just happened still lingered, but so did the resolve.

One more moment survived. One more lie for the sake of love.

Judy’s hand stayed loosely wrapped around Valerie’s waist as she tilted her head slightly. “Are you ready to stand?”

Valerie gave her a half-smirk. “If I’m not, you’ll catch me again.”

Judy rolled her eyes, but her lips twitched at the corners. “Not funny, Val.”

“I know.” Valerie exhaled, steadying herself. “Okay. Let’s do this.”

Judy reached out, their fingers meeting with that quiet understanding, palm to palm, as she helped Valerie down from the table. Valerie stood slow, but steady, and Judy didn’t let go until she was sure of it. She double-checked the medkit, making sure it was latched, then handed Valerie the rolled-up bundle of her dirty clothes and picked up the med herself.

Fingers laced again, the two of them moved back across camp at a careful pace, the morning sun edging higher now, shadows tucked under tents and low canvas awnings. Judy kept half a step closer than necessary, her body angled just enough to catch Valerie if something wavered. But it didn’t.

They reached the Alvarez tent after a short walk, and as they stepped inside, the familiar soft rustle of canvas gave way to the low scratch of pencil. Sera looked up from her sketchpad, her legs crossed on her cot, blanket pooled at her ankles.

“Hey,” she said casually, “everything is okay?”

Valerie walked over and dropped the clothes on top of the pile by the crate with a small grunt. “Yeah. Stitches came out clean. Felt kinda faint after, must’ve been the heat.”

Sera’s expression shifted. Her eyes narrowed slightly, and her head tilted the way it always did when something didn’t add up. “Mom… I’ve only known you a couple days, but the way your eyes look right now? That’s the same look you had after an attack.”

Judy was already guiding Valerie toward the cot. They sat together, Judy still holding her hand, the other brushing lightly along Valerie’s spine for reassurance. She glanced toward Sera. “You noticed that?”

Sera nodded, more solemn now. “Yeah. Told you in the van I wanted to sketch her like that. In case I lost another mom.”

Valerie took a breath, steady but quiet, then looked directly at her. “So… something did happen, Starshine. It wasn’t an attack, though. The nanites grouped together and overloaded my system. Scared your Mama half to death, but I’m okay now.”

Sera set the sketchpad down beside her, legs uncrossing as she leaned forward just slightly. “You don’t have to hide stuff from me, Mom. I know things are tough, but that’s why we got each other.”

Judy smiled, her fingers finding the back of Valerie’s hand again. “Guess we’re still learning how to be mothers, mi Cielo.”

Valerie exhaled softly and gave a slow nod, her lips easing into a tired but genuine smile. “Speaking of… how’s the Racer sketch coming?”

Sera grinned now, grabbing her pad again and flipping to the page. “Think I figured out the frame.”

For the moment three voices, and three hearts stitched together by something stronger than blood, still finding the rhythm of family in a world that finally gave them time.

Sera flipped the sketchpad toward them, angling it just enough for the morning light to catch across the page. “So I started with a Nazare frame,” she said, tapping her finger near the outline, “but then I added these low-slung forks, thinking maybe like a fusion between a café racer and a torque bike. Makes it look mean, but still sleek. That’s the goal, right?”

Valerie leaned in, squinting a little at the detailing along the engine line. “Is that… a second battery mount?”

“Yup,” Sera said, eyes bright. “If we salvage anything solar from the yard, I want to experiment with short-range boosts. Not a rocket launcher, promise.”

Judy chuckled, resting her chin on Valerie’s shoulder for a beat. “You say that now.”

Sera grinned. “I’m leaving room on the tank for a star and a crescent. For you two.”

Valerie didn’t say anything at first. Just reached out and tapped her finger gently near the spot where Sera had drawn it. “That means a lot, Starshine.”

There was a quiet moment as Sera studied their faces. Then she pulled the sketchpad close again and folded it shut with a soft thump. “I think I’m gonna go see what Sandra’s up to. She said something about sensor rigs last night… probably holed up in the garage with Vicky.”

Valerie nodded, easing back against the cot. “If they’re working on sensors, Vicky’s probably got a table cleared in the garage. Check near the back, where the scrap’s sorted. Sandra might already be elbow-deep in wiring.”

Sera grinned, already tugging her boots closer. “Thanks, Mom.”

She paused near the entrance, sketchpad tucked under her arm. “You two good for now? Need anything from the mess tent on my way back?”

Judy shook her head with a soft smile. “We’re alright, mi Cielo.”

Sera gave them a small salute before slipping out the canvas flap, the sunlight cutting across her back for just a second before it settled closed again behind her.

The tent held quiet for a moment again. Not empty, just settled. Like the tent finally had all its walls.

The flap settled shut behind Sera with a soft sway, canvas brushing against canvas, and the quiet that followed wasn’t the peaceful kind. Not anymore. It sat heavier like the weight of everything unsaid and finally had space to breathe.

Valerie’s fingers were still threaded with Judy’s, resting over the fold of her thigh. She didn’t speak at first, just watched the slant of sunlight shifting against the far tent wall. The kind of stillness she’d only ever worn when something wasn’t letting go.

Judy felt it too. She didn’t say anything either. Just waited.

Then Valerie’s voice came, low and even, almost like it surprised her that she said it at all.

“I need to know the truth, Jude.”

She looked over now, not away. No dodge in her tone. Just the quiet ask of someone who had already braced for the answer.

“It’ll help me figure out who’s messing around with the Aldecaldos... who’s trying to find us.”

The words landed between them. Stayed there.

Valerie let out a slow breath, her thumb brushing over the edge of Judy’s hand, once.

Judy didn’t flinch. She shifted her body to face her more fully, dark brown eyes meeting emerald with something older than just fear. Something honest.

“Alright,” Judy said softly. “You want the real version? Not the one I thought you needed? Okay.”

She let that settle before continuing, fingers tightening slightly around Valerie’s.

“We never made that second hand-off. You were unconscious. I brought you home not to the NUSA. I thought if I stalled 'em, played for time, I could find a better way.”

Judy gave a short, bitter breath. “Yeah, I told you we delivered the relic. Lied. Because I didn’t know what else to do, Val. You were barely hanging on, and I thought if I told you the whole thing, you’d spiral. I didn’t wanna see you fall apart right after crawling out of Mikoshi.”

Her voice lowered. “The relic? Probably snatched up when Arasaka hit the place. That’s what they were looking for. Not you. Not me. The tech.”

She looked up again, gaze steady but softer now.

“But you’re right. Whoever’s stirring shit up out there? Militech is looking for blood. NUSA is looking for answers. And if they think we still got that chip… we’re the loose end.”

Silence again, but it didn’t ache quite the same.

Judy reached out with her other hand, cupped Valerie’s cheek. “No more lies, okay? You want answers, I’ll give ‘em. Just promise me... we face whatever comes next together.”

Valerie leaned forward then, breath caught for a second at the back of her throat before it came free with a soft, almost-laughing exhale.

“Forever and always, Jude,” she whispered.

Her lips brushed Judy’s in a kiss that didn’t need heat, just weight. A seal. A tether.

She pulled back barely an inch, forehead still resting close. “I just needed to know.”

Judy pressed her forehead to hers. “Now you do.”

And outside, the wind shifted softly across the tents, dust rising, but not yet falling.

Valerie's knuckles skimmed softly along the side of Judy’s face, her eyes still half-lidded from the weight of it all but steady now, anchored.

“I remember the original meet,” she murmured. “Myers and Reed. The pitch.” She gave a low exhale, just short of a scoff. “Told them both to fuck off. Wasn’t dying for someone else’s war.”

Judy’s lips curled faintly. “Then I convinced you the Matrix might be worth the risk.”

Valerie turned her head just enough to meet her gaze. “You didn’t just convince me. You brokered a whole new deal.”

Judy’s fingers slipped gently through Valerie’s red hair, curling toward the back as if brushing away ghosts. “We took the Black Diamond like a storm like lightning. Hanson and Barghest didn’t even see it coming.” She leaned in closer. “Capturing Songbird? Not part of their playbook never expected an assault. Too cocky on their high horses.”

Valerie let out a soft breath, just barely a smile on her lips. “And we handed her over. Bought the Matrix access with it. NUSA still wanted the Relic, though. Said we were supposed to leave with them.”

Judy’s fingertips traced the curve of her neck now, slow and reverent. “Supposed to head home. Grab our stuff. Vanish like good little ghosts.” Her voice dropped a note, tender. “But I told you there was no way in hell we were selling ourselves to the government.”

Valerie’s fingers found the pink and green ends of Judy’s hair, brushing through them like she was still trying to memorize the colors. “That’s when I remembered. Me and Panam’s plan. Alt wanting to connect to Mikoshi. The backdoor.” She looked at her. “We settled on the Matrix. Nanites felt like better odds than letting an AI turn me into a shell.”

Judy nodded, quiet. “Then the assault happened.”

The air around them shifted. Lighter, but laced with what still ached.

“You were out cold,” Judy said. “That’s why I gave you the half-truths, mi amor. You deserved the whole story. I just… needed to know you’d be here to hear it.”

Valerie reached up, brushed her thumb against the edge of Judy’s mouth. “Well,” she said softly, “I’m here.”

Judy pressed her cheek into Valerie’s palm, closing her eyes for just a second. Then she opened them again, and met her gaze directly.

“You’re itching to get back into it. I can feel it.”

Valerie raised an eyebrow but didn’t argue. “Can’t help it. Been sitting too long.”

Judy’s hand settled lightly against her side, not restraining just there. Present.

“I know you, Val,” she said, warmth beneath the plea. “But please… take it slow. You only just got your feet back under you. The family’s got this. You don’t have to carry it all right now.”

Valerie leaned forward, resting her forehead to Judy’s for a beat. Then, softer than before, “Okay, babe. I’m all yours today.”

Judy smiled, tilting her head just enough to kiss her again, gentle, grounded, and full of everything unspoken. The kind that didn’t need any more promises behind it.

Their foreheads stayed nestled together, breath warm between them. Valerie didn’t move right away, just traced a soft arc with her fingers along Judy’s jaw, letting the touch linger. Then, with a small shift of her lips, she pressed a kiss just below her ear, trailing down to her jawline.

Judy exhaled, half a laugh caught in her throat. “What if Sera comes back?”

Valerie smirked against her skin, the warmth of her breath brushing close. “Then let’s hope Sandra keeps her occupied for a while.”

She tilted her chin, capturing Judy’s mouth again slow and open, not desperate, just steady like something familiar and long-missed. Her hands slipped beneath the edge of Judy’s tank top, fingertips brushing against bare skin in a way that asked more than it took. Judy didn’t resist. She leaned in, kissed her again, and helped Valerie pull the fabric over her head.

Then it was Valerie’s turn slowly easing back just enough to lift her own tank top, careful not to strain anything. The fabric caught for a second behind her, and Judy reached to help, their hands brushing in the process, something unspoken sparking through the contact.

With the tops dropped beside the cot, Judy’s gaze moved over Valerie not searching for wounds this time, but remembering all the pieces she still had. Scars long since healed, skin sun-warmed and freckled, the soft dip where ribs met waist.

She leaned in first, lips brushing gently across Valerie’s inked collarbone. Then lower. Each kiss was unhurried. Measured. A slow retracing of memory.

Her mouth moved down the slope of Valerie’s breast along the lyrics don't tell me I'm dying, her hands steady on Valerie’s hips where jeans still clung there was no rush to peel anything else away. Just that warm skin beneath her lips, and the feel of Valerie’s fingers sliding through her hair, grounding them both.

When Judy kissed just above the scar on her side, a faded one from years ago, Valerie breathed in through her nose, slow and steady, her palm still cradling the back of Judy’s neck.

“Jude…” she whispered, not as a warning, not even a request. Just a name that held everything.

Judy looked up, her lips soft against Valerie’s ribs. “Still okay?”

Valerie nodded, fingers brushing the short edge of Judy’s undercut, then smoothing back along the longer strands where pink and green framed her face. “Better than okay,” she said. “I’m here. With you.”

Judy moved up again, placing a kiss at the hollow of her throat, then another on just beside her mouth before settling their lips together again.

They stayed like that a while, skin against skin, Judy’s fingers tracing the lotus tattoo on Valerie’s shoulder. Nothing rushed. Nothing more than what was needed. Just warmth, and breath. That quiet gravity that only came from loving someone through hell and still choosing to be gentle with them on the other side.

When they finally leaned back, Judy’s arms curled loosely around her waist, there wasn’t a single doubt left in the air between them.

“I love you, Jude,” Valerie murmured, brushing her thumb along Judy’s jaw.

Judy kissed her again slowly, content and said quietly, “Love you too, Val.”

After their lips parted, Valerie didn’t move far. She leaned in, pressing a soft kiss against the rose tattoo on Judy’s neck, her mouth lingering there like it had something to say all on its own. Her hand, slow and sure, trailed downward until her fingers brushed across the edge of the red spiderweb inked over Judy’s breast. She traced it lightly, not for effect just for the intimacy of knowing every line.

Judy let out a quiet breath, her body sinking slightly under the touch. Not tense, just enjoying the touch of her wife.

Valerie’s kisses didn’t stop there. She made her way gently along Judy’s collarbone, then down the side of her ribs, her hand gliding along the inward curve of her waist as if reacquainting herself with a map she already knew by heart. Every touch stayed slow, every kiss deliberate. Not meant to arouse meant to remind.

You’re here. I’m here. We made it.

Judy’s fingers curled lightly in Valerie’s red hair once, but she didn’t pull her closer. She didn’t need to. Valerie was already everywhere along her side, her shoulders, the place just above her navel where the skin was warmest. Where her breath caught and her hand moved back to hold Valerie’s.

When Valerie finally circled around again, she didn’t say anything. She just curled herself around Judy from behind, bare chest to back, arms weaving under and around until she was fully wrapped around her. Her cheek rested soft against the slope of Judy’s shoulder, breath evening out slow as if the rhythm had finally found them both again.

Judy’s hand reached down, threading their fingers together where Valerie’s arm crossed her stomach.

Outside, there was a faint movement canvas shifting with the wind, distant voices near the mess tent. But inside, there was only this.

Valerie, anchored in the warmth of Judy’s body. Judy, steady beneath the weight she welcomed without question.

“I could stay like this forever,” Valerie murmured into her skin.

Judy smiled faintly, thumb brushing along Valerie’s knuckles. “Then we’ve got time.”

Judy squeezed Valerie’s fingers a little tighter, her thumb tracing the groove along the back of her hand.

Valerie’s voice stayed close, low against her skin. “Miss holdin’ you like this. Feels good… having you near without worrying about the stitches.”

Judy turned her head slightly, enough to brush her cheek against Valerie’s. “I missed it too,” she said quietly, the words a slow exhale more than anything else. “Missed the way your arms settle when you’re not guarding everything.”

Valerie let out a soft breath, her nose nudging against the curve of Judy’s neck. “Got so used to protectin’… forgot what it felt like to just hold.”

Judy tilted her head back just a little, enough for her to reach up and run her fingers through Valerie’s red hair again, lazy and slow. “You don’t have to forget anymore.”

Valerie’s hold tightened slightly just enough for her hand to spread across Judy’s stomach like an anchor. The warmth of her palm, the press of her cheek… it wasn’t about passion now, or pain. Just the contact. That thread that had stretched thin for weeks now thickened again with every shared breath.

“Just watch those hands,” Judy whispered, a small smile in her voice.

Valerie chuckled. “No promises. But I’ll behave for now.”

Judy leaned back just enough to kiss Valerie’s temple, then let her settle in again. “Then hold me as long as you want. I’m not going anywhere.”

Valerie’s thumb drew slow, absent circles against Judy’s side, just beneath the hem of her tank. There was no rhythm to it, no urgency, just a quiet, grounding motion, like her body needed to memorize the feel of Judy under her palm all over again.

Judy’s breath had evened out now, still warm where it rolled across the side of Valerie’s neck. She hadn’t shifted away, hadn’t moved to break the closeness. Her legs stayed gently tangled with Valerie’s, ankles brushing every so often like waves kissing shore.

The sounds outside were distant: muted conversation, the occasional hum of a patrol bike kicking to life, someone cursing about a lost wrench near the supply tent. But here, under the soft canopy of canvas and half-filtered sunlight, everything narrowed to this…

The subtle rise and fall of Judy’s chest beneath her hand.
The soft cotton warmth of her shirt against Valerie’s cheek.
The way their breaths had started to match again, like they always did when nothing stood between them.

Valerie murmured, “Could stay like this forever.”

Judy shifted just enough to press a small kiss to the crown of Valerie’s head. “You’d get bored,” she teased, though the fondness in her voice softened the words.

Valerie tilted her head just slightly, emerald eyes flicking up to meet hers. “Not if it’s with you.”

Judy smiled, slow and real, brushing her fingers through Valerie’s hair again. “Good,” she whispered, letting her forehead rest gently against Valerie’s once more. “Because I’m not letting go.”

Valerie smiled into Judy’s hair, her breath catching just a little on the exhale. “Gonna hold you like this for a little longer,” she whispered, voice low and husky with the weight of everything they'd survived. Her hand splayed gently against Judy’s lower back, warm and steady. “Then let’s go for a walk. I need to rebuild my strength…”

She shifted just slightly, tilting her chin until her lips brushed Judy’s temple. “But I’m still not letting go.”

Judy chuckled, her voice soft and close, like it belonged only to the space between them. “Only if you wear the cowgirl hat,” she murmured. “Didn’t drag it out of the rig for nothing.”

Valerie’s gaze flicked toward the back of the tent where the morning light caught on the silver trim above the brim of her black hat, still hanging off the neck of her old wooden acoustic. The guitar leaned just so, purple inlay catching faint color where sunlight crept through the flap’s edge. Right where Judy had last placed it deliberately, like a promise.

“Now that’s emotional blackmail,” Valerie teased.

Judy smirked, brushing her thumb slowly along Valerie’s waist before leaning in for one more slow kiss near her collarbone. “Call it encouragement,” she murmured against her skin.

They stayed like that a little longer, legs tangled, foreheads close, nothing rushing them. Just the sound of wind easing against the tent walls and the shared pulse that didn’t need words.

Eventually, Valerie shifted first, a soft groan as her muscles protested the motion. Judy followed with quiet hands, helping guide the stretch without pulling them too far apart. Their tank tops were where they’d left them, folded by the crate. Judy grabbed Valerie’s and slipped it gently over her head, fingertips ghosting down her back as the fabric settled. Valerie smoothed it out with one hand, the other still loosely holding Judy’s.

Judy pulled hers on next, then leaned in for one last kiss shorter, but just as grounding.

Valerie exhaled slowly, reaching up to tuck a strand of green-pink hair behind Judy’s ear. “Ready when you are, cowgirl.”

Judy’s grin was quiet, but it reached her eyes. “Let’s take it slow.”

Judy shifted forward, the cot creaking faintly beneath her as she sat up and reached for her boots. The worn leather creased under her fingers as she tugged them on, one after the other, tightening the straps with muscle memory and calm focus. Valerie nudged her shoulder as she moved beside her, steadying a hand against Judy’s thighs before rising.

She moved with slow grace, not quite effortless yet, but sure. The fabric of her jeans caught the breeze for a second as she crossed toward the back of the tent, brushing past the guitar and crates. There was a soft thud as she pushed a supply bag aside and found her brown leather cowgirl boots. Her fingers trailed up the neck of the acoustic before she pulled the hat down from its resting place black felt with the silver lining above the brim, the old swagger she hadn’t worn in too long. She turned it once in her hands before settling it on her head with a flick of her thumb against the brim.

A pair of rolled socks came next from the canvas clothes bag near the crates. Valerie grabbed them, then made her way back across the tent. The tilt in her walk carried that old rhythm again just enough to make Judy’s eyes follow her the whole way.

Valerie gave a teasing jut of her hips as she sat down beside her again, bumping Judy’s knee lightly. “Still got it,” she murmured, already tugging her socks on.

Judy huffed softly through her nose, a smile tugging her lips as she watched her.

Once Valerie had her boots on and planted solidly on the floor, Judy stood and reached out. No words, just a hand offered.

Valerie took it.

They stepped through the flap together, shoulders brushing. And the morning met them with sun and dust, the world warm and buzzing with the low hum of generator power and boots in gravel. Tents swayed gently in the breeze, and the distant clang of tools echoed near the garage line.

Valerie wrapped her arm around Judy’s waist, pulling her close as they paused just beyond the canvas. The camp stretched ahead of them smoke from the mess line curling slowly, a few Nomads checking gear near the trucks.

Judy leaned into her, tucking one hand in Valerie’s back pocket, her voice quiet against the world. “Think we can make it to the mess tent without anyone roping us into sensor duty?”

Valerie grinned beneath the shadow of her hat. “Not if we walk like we’ve already got a job to do.”

Together, they started down the path.

Valerie smiled under the brim of her hat, the sun catching the silver trim as she turned toward the mess tent. “How about we grab a couple sandwiches and some lemonades? Something light before the walk.”

Judy nodded, already slipping her hand into Valerie’s again. “Sounds good, mi amor.”

The dust kicked gently beneath their boots as they strolled across the camp, the hum of daily movement all around someone hammering in a replacement pole, laughter from a nearby tent, a pair of young Aldecaldos wrangling with a stubborn solar panel. The kind of morning that felt full but not rushed.

Then footsteps. Rapid, light, pounding toward them.

Sera and Sandra rounded the far side of the garage tent at full tilt, a blur of motion and shared grins as they raced each other straight toward the mess tent. Sera caught sight of them first and skidded slightly on the gravel, one hand thrown up in mock exasperation.

“About time you two got out of bed,” she called, breathless but grinning.

Sandra was just behind her, cheeks flushed, her tank half-untucked and a grease smear running faintly along her forearm. She slowed just enough to catch her breath beside Sera, her brow eyes flicking toward the mess tent before settling on them.

“Mom said it was time for a break from the sensors,” Sandra said with a small chuckle. “But I think her and Carol just wanted me and Sera gone for a bit.”

Sera nudged her with a grin. “I told you they were doing that thing while whispering over coffee. That’s adult-code for plotting.”

Valerie chuckled, glancing at Judy. “I think we’ve been outmatched already.”

Judy gave her a soft look, then flicked her gaze toward Sera. “I think we’re still learning the ropes.”

Sera didn’t answer, just gave them a knowing smile and ducked inside the tent flap. Sandra followed with a quick wave, letting the canvas fall closed behind them.

They stood there a beat longer, just outside the mess tent, quiet again.

Valerie let her hand slide a little lower across Judy’s back. “Guess we’re not the only ones adjusting.”

Judy leaned into her slightly, warm breath near her ear. “We’ll get there.”

Then they stepped forward, the scent of cooking meat and warm bread rising in the still air, the rhythm of camp life moving around them, steady and alive.

The canvas flap rustled behind them as they stepped into the mess tent’s warmth, low chatter and the clatter of metal trays echoing softly against the poles. Sera and Sandra were already at the food line, whispering between giggles like they'd just pulled off a small, harmless crime. Whatever it was, they wore it with pride.

Near one of the side tables, Vanessa and Jessica glanced up. Vanessa was half-lounged in her seat, jacket slung on the backrest, a cup of something dark steaming near her elbow. Jessica lifted a fork in greeting.

“Looking better, Val,” she called, a sly grin tugging at the corner of her mouth.

Valerie tipped her hat slightly with a lazy smile. “Stitches are out, bruises are gone, and I’ve got the most amazing woman beside me. Couldn’t ask for more.”

Vanessa’s smirk curled sharp. “ You’re bringing the gunslinger look back already, huh?”

Judy chuckled, her hand still resting against the small of Valerie’s back. “I wanted her to wear it again. Always loved how the black and silver brings out her eyes.”

Jessica leaned forward, laughing under her breath. “Still remember you wearing that hat like some wild west folk hero when we tried to cut a deal with Maelstrom. Carol and Cassidy were doing their whole 'diplomatic armistice' routine. Snipers on the roofs, backup goons on the ground… talks going nowhere fast.”

Vanessa gestured with her cup. “Then here comes Valerie, all smug, boots clicking like a damn movie entrance. Doesn’t even draw. Just… talks. Somehow gets ‘em to pay in full and let us walk without firing a shot.”

Valerie shrugged, eyes gleaming with mischief. “That’s when I knew being a merc could mean more than just bullets and contracts.”

Judy grinned. “I still wish I could’ve seen that. Instead, I was elbows deep fixing Lizzie’s busted server stack.”

Vanessa tilted her head. “We’ll reenact it for you sometime. Maybe get Sera to do the voiceover.”

Jessica snorted. “With dramatic flair, obviously.”

Valerie smirked. “Only if I get final script approval.”

Then her gaze softened a bit. “How’ve your runs been?”

Vanessa leaned back. “Scored a crate of Centzon tequila on the last one. I’ll drop a bottle off later.”

Valerie grinned. “Now you’re speaking my language.”

Jessica added, “Made a good trade with Folk Nation supplies for Chicago in exchange for a generator and relay parts. Tequila was a bonus.”

Judy nodded. “You two always drive a hard bargain.”

Jessica lifted her chin proudly. “Nobody is better than us.”

At the far side of the room, Sera and Sandra had claimed a table Sera halfway through a sandwich already, Sandra licking lemonade from her thumb. They waved them over without missing a beat.

Valerie gave a parting grin to Vanessa and Jessica. “We’ll catch up more later.”

Vanessa raised her mug. “Don’t be strangers.”

Judy and Valerie made their way to the serving line, picking out a couple of sandwiches and cold lemonades before heading toward the girls. The quiet thrum of camp surrounded them, boots scuffing the floor, the gentle scrape of plates, soft laughter in pockets.

When they reached the table, Sera scooted over just a little, patting the bench beside her. “We saved the best seats.”

Valerie raised a brow. “Yeah? Is that so?”

Sandra grinned. “It’s scientifically proven. Warmest patch of canvas. Premium foot traffic view. Proximity to the dessert table.”

Judy slid in next to Valerie. “Damn, you thought of everything.”

Sera gave a little mock bow, sipping her lemonade. “We aim to please.”

Valerie took a bite of her sandwich, leaned her forearms onto the table, and smiled across at Sera. “So, how’s working on the sensors treating you, Starshine? Are you liking it?”

Sera beamed mid-chew, wiping a crumb from the corner of her mouth before answering. “Yeah, actually. It’s kinda awesome? I didn’t think I’d get into it, but it turns out building stuff and figuring out how it ticks… still kinda addictive.”

Sandra grinned, her elbow nudging lightly against Sera’s. “Especially when she gets to show off.”

Sera held up both hands, mock-offended. “I am a very serious engineer now, thank you.”

Judy raised an eyebrow with a small smile. “Oh? That right?”

Sandra leaned forward, eyes gleaming. “Serious enough that we accidentally activated one of the sensors early. Carol was walking by and it tripped, flashed red, beeped at her.”

Sera snorted. “She just stood there. Didn’t even flinch. Gave us this long look like… disappointed teacher meets tired mechanic. Then grumbled something about needing more coffee.”

Valerie chuckled. “Sounds like Carol.”

“She didn’t even yell,” Sandra added. “Just muttered, ‘Figures,’ and walked off.”

Judy took a sip of lemonade. “That’s how you know it’s not the first time someone’s made a sensor checker angry before lunch.”

Sera grinned, leaning back against the tent pole. “Well, at least we know they’re working.”

Valerie gave a slow nod. “Keep sharpening those instincts, Starshine. Who knows might be your sensors that catch the next trouble before it hits the gate.”

Sera’s eyes flicked toward Judy, then Valerie. “Yeah. That’s the idea.”

Sandra grinned beside her, picking at the crust of her sandwich. “Plus, they gave us soldering irons. That was their first mistake.”

Judy shook her head. “You two are gonna burn down the whole R&D department.”

Sera lifted her juice. “We’ll rebuild it better.”

Valerie clinked her bottle gently against Sera’s. “Now that’s the spirit.”

Sera grinned, resting her chin on her hand as she looked between them. “What are you two doing today, Moms?”

Judy set her lemonade down, shooting Valerie a playful side glance. “Your mother’s already itching to get back into the action. I told her no backflips off the rig for at least twenty-four hours.”

Sera laughed, eyes sparkling. “She’d probably land on her butt.”

Valerie smirked around a bite of sandwich, wiped her mouth with the edge of a napkin. “Hey now. I still have some grace left.”

Judy raised an eyebrow. “Uh-huh. Sure you do.”

Valerie nudged her leg beneath the table, chuckling. “Promised her a nice walk. After that… maybe some light training. Gotta start somewhere if I’m gonna get back into shape.”

Sera leaned back with an approving nod. “Well, don’t wear her out too fast, Mama.”

Judy smiled. “I’ll keep her in line.”

Valerie winked. “You can try.”

The air inside the mess tent stayed warm, soft with the scents of grilled bread, spiced meat, and the faint tang of metal from the solar pots stacked behind the prep tables. They ate at an easy pace, laughter slipping in between bites Sera animatedly explaining how she and Sandra had tried to recalibrate one of the old sensors using only a flathead and chewing gum. Judy looked dubious. Valerie nearly choked laughing.

Sandra shook her head, half grinning through a mouthful. “It worked. Mostly.”

“You mean until it buzzed at Carol’s leg like it thought she was hostile?” Sera added, pointing her spoon for emphasis.

Valerie leaned back, stretching just a little with one arm slung loosely behind Judy on the bench. “Can’t believe I missed that.”

“Don’t worry,” Judy said, taking a sip of lemonade, “they’ll probably re-enact the whole thing before sunset.”

Eventually plates were scraped clean, lemonade bottles emptied, and the last crumbs of bread picked off napkins. Sera leaned in to give Valerie a hug first, careful of her ribs but still firm. “Don’t do anything too wild,” she teased.

Valerie smiled into her shoulder. “I’ll be on my best behavior.”

Sandra smiled at Judy, then glanced between them. “See you both later if we survive Carol’s diagnostics checklist.”

“We’ll send backup if you’re not back by dinner,” Judy promised.

The girls bolted off in a tangle of laughter and limbs, already halfway into a race by the time they hit the edge of the tent. Sandra shouted something about ‘first to the lift controls,’ Sera countered with ‘you cheated last time.’

Valerie watched them go, her head tilted, that fond expression settling behind her eyes. “They’re good for each other.”

Judy nodded, letting her arm loop gently around Valerie’s waist. “So are we.”

Outside, the sun had climbed a little higher, its rays stretched wide across the camp. Still warm, but with a breeze now brushing in from the east. The scent of desert scrub and warm engine oil lingered, not unpleasant. Familiar.

Valerie leaned into her as they stepped out from under the canopy, her cowgirl hat casting a soft shadow over her emerald eyes. “C’mon,” she murmured, that quiet warmth in her voice. “Let’s take that walk.”

They moved slowly at first, no rush in their steps, just the quiet rhythm of boots over dirt and gravel. Judy kept close to Valerie’s side, her arm still looped comfortably around her waist. Around them, the camp moved in its usual low thrum engine checks near the garage, kids chasing a ball past one of the water tanks, a pair of Nomads arguing good-naturedly over a bad relay signal.

The sun filtered in and out of low clouds, painting the tarps and tents in shifting gold. Valerie's cowgirl hat tipped down just slightly, her profile calm under the shadow.

They circled past the solar panels, where someone was unspooling copper wire, and then rounded toward the outer edge of the garage tent. That’s when Judy started noticing the subtle narrowing of Valerie’s gaze, the slight turn of her head like she was listening to something deeper than sound.

Judy smiled, slow. “You’re doing it again.”

Valerie didn’t look at her. “Doing what?”

“That thing where you scout with your eyes,” Judy said, bumping her hip gently into Valerie’s. “The way you keep running scenarios in your head. Like you’re prepping for trouble, even when you’re supposed to be enjoying the damn sunshine.”

Valerie tilted her chin slightly, lips twitching but not quite smiling. Her eyes didn’t stop scanning fully. “I can’t help it,” she said after a beat. “Something’s off. Not in the obvious ways. Just… small things.”

Judy’s voice softened. “Like what?”

Valerie gestured loosely toward the south ridge with a flick of her chin. “That outpost spotlight hasn’t rotated since yesterday. I noticed it during lunch too. And the sensor grid on the east side hasn’t been touched. They said it tripped on Carol, but nobody followed up to test its actual trigger radius.”

Judy looked that way too, eyes narrowing now, following the trail her wife’s instincts had drawn.

“I don’t think the Aldecaldos noticed,” Valerie added. “Not yet. Nothing big enough to raise alarms. But something’s threading close to camp.”

Judy was quiet a second longer, then reached down and found Valerie’s hand, their fingers lacing together.

“Okay,” she said quietly. “So let’s figure it out. But not alone.”

Valerie turned toward her, finally letting the edge soften in her eyes. “We’ll bring it up after the walk. Just wanted to be sure I wasn’t imagining it.”

Judy nodded. “You never imagine it, Val. You see it before the rest of us do.”

They kept walking. The sun was warm at their backs, and something sharper settled just beneath the calm.

Their boots crunched through another pass of gravel as they curved around the storage tents, the low hum of the camp still steady in the distance. But Valerie’s attention never drifted. Every few steps, her eyes flicked to motionless antennae, misaligned sensors, a faintly shifted trail in the dust where none should’ve been. Judy stayed beside her, quiet but close, her fingers brushing Valerie’s every now and then like a reminder we’re still here, still real.

As they neared the command RV, Valerie’s steps slowed. Then stopped.

She tilted her head back, squinting up at the open sky overhead, framed by the support beams and antennae around the RV.

Judy paused with her, the shift in posture enough to raise the hairs on the back of her neck. “What is it?” she asked gently.

Valerie didn’t answer at first. Just lifted her hand, index finger slowly tracking upward to a patch of clear blue cloudless, still.

“There,” she said finally. “Something’s wrong with the sky.”

Judy followed her line of sight, brow furrowed. She scanned the empty space. “Looks the same to me, mi amor. Blue, hot, endless…”

“No,” Valerie said, her voice flat but focused. “Something’s there.”

Before Judy could answer, the command RV door swung open with a hiss of hydraulics. Panam stepped out, one arm braced against the frame, her braid tucked under her utility cap. “You two alright?” she asked, squinting slightly in the light. “You’ve been pacing like perimeter scouts.”

Judy nodded toward Valerie. “She’s been picking up on things. Little details all over camp. She’s locked onto something now.”

Valerie didn’t look away from the sky. She just pointed again, steadier this time. “Right where I’m aiming. Panam take the shot. One round. Just trust me.”

Panam stared at her, half incredulous. “Val, it’s sky. You want me to fire a round at daylight?”

“Please,” Valerie said, and this time there was a weight behind it. Something deeper than stubbornness certainty.

Panam groaned, muttering under her breath as she unhooked the pistol from her thigh. “If this gets us flagged by space traffic control…”

She lifted the pistol, squinted one eye, and fired.

The crack echoed once across the upper camp then a spark burst in the air, shimmering like a popped fuse.

Something shimmered. Wavered.

Then a cloaked recon drone blinked into half-visibility, static-laced and staggered, the bullet having fried part of its active camo shell. It hovered mid-air for another second, then listed left, sputtered, and dropped hard onto the dirt behind the comms trailer with a metallic thunk.

Panam’s mouth fell open. “Holy shit,” she breathed. “How did you even see that?”

Judy leaned in, pressing a kiss against Valerie’s cheek, voice low with admiration. “She always had a good eye.”

Valerie’s expression was already shifting cool, sharp, focused. “Let’s go see what the little bastard has to say.”

The heat shimmered off the gravel as the three of them rounded the comms trailer, the faint scent of singed plastic clinging to the air. The drone lay on its side, one stabilizer rotor bent inward, sparks still twitching from the housing. Valerie crouched first, fingers brushing along the impact seam. The matte shell was chipped, but the Militech logo beneath the surface plating still shone through sharp, unmistakable.

Panam stopped beside her, arms crossing tightly. “Well,” she muttered. “Looks like Kassidy handed us straight to Militech.”

Valerie nodded, lips pressed into a thin line. “A scouting drone, not combat. They’re watching. Can’t break Arizona’s free-state status without backlash too risky, too loud. But they’re circling.”

Judy crouched down beside her, eyes narrowed as she examined the power cell. “So what then? Wait for one of us to step past the line and make it easy for ‘em?”

“Or,” Valerie added, “wait to see if I leave camp. Alone. If they’re planning an ‘accident,’ the Badlands is where it happens.”

Panam’s jaw clenched. “Testing the waters. Looking for fractures in our patrol coverage. Weak links.”

Judy tapped the edge of the drone’s casing. “Could also be weighing their odds. Militech storms a Nomad camp, someone notices. But a few freelance hitters off the grid? That’s easy to spin.”

Panam turned toward her, gaze steady. “You think you can pull anything from it? Deployment orders, signal logs?”

Judy’s smile was dry, confident. “Won’t even break a sweat.”

Valerie rose slowly, brushing her fingers against her jeans. “Doesn’t matter what it says. We’ve got our warning. That’s enough information to prepare."

Panam gave a sharp nod. “I’ll double the southern watch, rotate out the night runners. Let me know what you find once you’ve cracked it.”

“Will do,” Judy said, reaching down to scoop the drone into her arms, the weight manageable but awkward.

Panam gave a two-fingered salute before turning and heading off toward the patrol hub, already calling for Reyes and one of the route scanners.

Judy turned to Valerie, a small grin tugging at her lips. “Looks like we’re back in the game, babe.”

Valerie smirked, tipping her hat back just slightly as she walked beside her. “Told you I could behave and still be useful.”

Judy laughed under her breath. “Barely.”

Valerie elbowed her gently. “C’mon, let’s get this junk heap to the garage. Might as well break it down before dinner.”

They moved in unison, side by side through the gravel and sunlight, the camp shifting back into rhythm around them, but this time with sharper eyes, and the weight of unspoken readiness threading through every step.

Chapter Text

The drone was heavier than it looked.

Judy kept it braced against her hip, one arm steadying the bent rotor that sparked every few steps. Valerie stayed close, not touching the drone, not yet. She moved steady enough, but Judy saw the shift in her step when the gravel dipped her leg catching slightly, not in pain anymore, just from wear. One hand rested at her side, habit more than anything.

Judy reached across with a brush of her knuckles. Light, grounding.

“Almost there,” she murmured.

Valerie didn’t miss a beat. “Not worried. Been through worse than a walk and a toaster full of spyware.”

Judy smirked. “Still not calling it a toaster.”

The garage flap hung half-open when they reached it, radio static buzzing low from somewhere inside. Blues music, slow and scratched, probably Carol’s doing again. Inside, the heat held thick, solder and sun baked into the canvas walls.

Judy carried the drone to the bench in the corner, laying it down near the clamps. Sparks still jumped from one fried edge.

Carol looked up from her work, socket wrench in hand. Her sleeves were already rolled to the elbows, dark shirt streaked from half a dozen projects. “That’s Militech gear,” she said, eyeing the drone. “Where the hell did you find that?”

“The sky,” Valerie said, leaning against the bench. “Cloaked. Hovering near the command trailer.”

Carol gave a low whistle. “That’d explain the spike I saw last night. Ridge sensors have been twitchy ever since.”

Judy cracked open the housing panel on the drone, hands moving fast. “Relay signals are still warm. If it’s been transmitting, I’ll see where.”

The flap rustled behind them soft footfalls on the dirt floor.

Someone else had stepped in. Clan jacket. Gray shirt. No name patch. She stayed near the edge of the light, wiping her hands on a cloth like she’d just finished with a battery change or heat shielding. No urgency to her movements, no stutter. Just casual, like she belonged.

“Didn’t think anyone spotted it,” the woman said, voice light. “Some of us figured it was heat shimmer bouncing off the vents.”

Judy kept working. Valerie glanced over.

She didn’t recognize the woman’s name, because she hadn’t given one. Just that small nod, friendly without being too familiar. The ends of her scarf were dirt-smudged and frayed. Not new here, but not loud, either.

“If you’re tracing comm links,” she added, “I’ve got a signal dampener you might use. Pulled it off a wrecked convoy a while back. Still hums clean.”

Carol didn’t blink. “Drop it next to the bin. I’ll take a look when I’ve got my hands free.”

The woman nodded again and slipped out through the flap. No fuss. No pause.

Judy finally looked up, brow furrowed. “You know her?”

Valerie kept her eyes on the flap for another second. “No. But her face feels… almost familiar.”

Carol didn’t glance up. “Name’s Bee or something. Been around a few months. Baja run was hers before she joined us. Saul signed off on it.”

Judy didn’t reply. She was already inside the drone’s main relay cluster.

Valerie still watched the tent entrance.

Judy’s fingers moved methodically across the scorched drone casing, tracing melted relays, coaxing loose a warped panel with the edge of a screwdriver. Her focus was sharp, but not rushed. Just beside her, Valerie leaned slightly on the edge of the workbench, arms crossed, eyes still scanning the corners of the garage like she was tracking ghosts.

“She was at the Mikoshi OP… wasn’t she?” Valerie’s voice didn’t carry far. Just enough for Judy to hear.

Judy didn’t glance up. “Perimeter team,” she murmured back. “West slope. I remember she helped load evac stretchers while the last wave held the ridge.”

Valerie nodded once. “Thought so.”

From the other side of the garage, Sera looked up from the small sensor cluster she and Sandra were rewiring with Vicky’s help. She squinted toward them, then stood, brushing her hands on her pants before walking over.

“You talking about that woman who dropped off the signal dampener?” she asked, keeping her voice low as she joined them.

Judy glanced sideways. “Have you seen her around before?”

Sera shrugged. “Not much since we got here. Just kind of… there. She doesn't talk unless someone talks first. Always seems to be one tool ahead of whatever’s needed.”

“She always works solo,” Sandra called, not looking up. “Mom tried assigning her a partner last week. Didn’t stick.”

Valerie exhaled, slow. “That kind of quiet isn’t just shyness. She clocked the drone while it was still in the air. And she watched us carry it in.”

Sera leaned in, lowering her voice. “You think she’s watching you?”

“I think she’s watching something,” Judy said, finally prying off the casing plate. “And I don’t like guessing why.”

The drone’s internal housing let out a quiet hiss as she exposed the primary relay, its interior still glowing faint blue from the heat of the downed flight.

Behind them, Vicky finally looked over. “If she’s been tracking this camp since Mikoshi,” she said carefully, “then this isn’t her first recon.”

“She’s been here long enough to know our patterns,” Valerie murmured. “Enough to stay one step behind us… without tipping us off.”

Sera’s brows furrowed. “So what do we do?”

Judy tapped the relay casing lightly, then looked up. “We get ahead of her.”

She turned to Valerie. “Once I get this open, I’ll know where it’s been sending data. If she’s got a handler, we’ll find traces of uplink… or ping echoes in the camp logs.”

Valerie nodded, eyes narrowing slightly. “And if the logs are clean?”

Judy’s mouth quirked slightly, humorless. “Then someone inside knew how to scrub them.”

Sera looked between them, lips pressed thin. “You want me to keep an eye out? Just in case she circles back?”

Valerie placed a hand lightly on Sera’s shoulder. “Not alone. But yeah, stay alert. This isn’t paranoia anymore.”

Judy went back to work without a word, fingers tightening around the multi-tool in her hand. The drone hissed again, its circuits slowly winding down under her touch.

In the background, the buzz of camp life rolled on. But something had shifted.

This time, Valerie was sure someone else felt it too.

Judy leaned over the half-dismantled drone, wiping the sweat from her brow with the back of her arm. “Sera,” she said, eyes scanning the side bench, “grab me the datapad. The one with the cracked corner.”

Sera was already moving, snagging it from between a coiled cable and a stripped sensor plate. She brought it over and Judy took it with a grateful nod.

“See that black cable?” Judy gestured with her chin toward the tangle near the relay core. “Plug it into the port just below that busted antenna mount. Right by the relay.”

Sera crouched down, careful, threading the cable through with steady hands. The connection clicked, a faint hum rising as the relay acknowledged the link. She handed Judy the pad, screen already blinking with the input handshake.

Judy’s fingers danced across the cracked glass, rapid and focused. “Just need to icebreak this Militech encryption… won’t take long.” The scrolling lines of red began to fracture, then fragment as she forced the override. “Alright. We’re in. Starting data pull now.”

While the transfer began to crawl across the screen, Valerie stepped back a little from the workbench. Her gaze drifted slowly, thoughtful toward the back of the garage where the old Basilisk tank rested beneath a tarp and half-disassembled scaffolding. The memory landed like a whisper.

Her voice was quiet, but sure. “I remember now. Bianca… right? She helped build the Basilisk. After we grabbed the parts from Militech during that run.”

Carol glanced up, mouth twitching slightly in thought. “Mmph. Now that you mention it… yeah. She was on the rear assembly team. She welded the control panel mounts. Always came in early. Didn’t say much.”

Sera turned from the drone, brow furrowed. “Why’s she got you suspicious, Mom?”

Valerie gave a faint shrug, eyes still trained on the back wall like she could see through it. “Just something in the air. Being a merc… you learn when someone’s breathing too quiet. When they move without leaving dust.”

Judy let that sit a beat, eyes on the screen as data lines began to decrypt hex blocks blinking into legible logs. “Vicky,” she said, glancing over her shoulder, “was Bianca around a lot while Val was recovering? Or did she only start showing more interest once the camp realized their most wanted fugitive was back on her feet?”

Vicky’s fingers paused in their motion over the sensor array. She looked up slowly. “She always did her rounds,” she said. “Never shirked a duty. Brought in scrap. Ran perimeter checks. But she worked alone. Never wanted help. Always said she moved faster without it.”

A low rustle broke the rhythm then soft footfalls brushing past the tent’s outer edge. Could’ve been anyone. Could’ve been no one. Just a reminder the camp never fully slept.

Sera looked between her moms, then glanced at Sandra still fiddling with the drone housing. “Hey, is it okay if we… go look around a bit? I’ll stay out of trouble.”

Valerie arched her brow, but her smirk softened it. “You’re curious where she’s at, huh?”

Sera gave a little nod, lips pursed in a not-quite smile. “I just want to help.”

Sandra chimed in from beside her, stretching out a hand to grab the last micro-calibrator. “Time for the conductors of chaos to shine,” she said proudly.

Vicky ruffled her daughter’s hair as she passed. “If either of you comes back with a story about eavesdropping on militia secrets, it’s dish duty for a week.”

Sandra groaned. “Understood, Mom.”

Judy watched them as they slipped through the tent flap shoulders brushing, footsteps quick and eager but light. Gone in a blink.

The garage quieted again, save for the soft hum of circuits and the rustle of soldered wire. Valerie stepped back beside Judy, her arm brushing gently against hers.

“Let’s see what the drone has to say,” she murmured.

Judy nodded, expression tight. “Yeah. Let’s crack this wide open.”

The datapad blinked again, then froze the decryption was complete.

A folder marked: “Tier-2 Asset – Observation Log 16” lit the screen. Judy tapped it once, breath shallow.

The silence in the garage held. Not empty just waiting.

Judy tapped the folder once more. The datapad blinked, then filled with text.

She scanned it in silence first. Her face didn’t change much, just a subtle tightening of the jaw, the way her breath went shallower with each new line.

Valerie stepped closer, her arm brushing Judy’s again, her eyes flicking down.

“…Observation Log Sixteen,” Judy read softly.

The words scrolled past in silence. Surveillance window timestamps. Location tags. Valerie’s name first showing PRIMARY. She saw the line about her stitches, the note about walking post-lunch. “Displayed high situational awareness,” it read.

Judy didn’t look up. Her thumb shifted, scrolling slower.

“Gave verbal firing directive to Panam Palmer…” she murmured. “Recommendation: do not engage within camp.”

“'Monitor for external movements,’” Valerie finished for her, voice low and even. Her fingers curled slightly at her side.

Carol glanced over from the far table but didn’t speak. Vicky had already crossed the garage toward the workbench, her eyes narrowed as she read over Judy’s shoulder.

SECONDARY – Judy Alvarez.

“Shard telemetry flagged for signal trace,” Judy said under her breath. Her hand hovered for a moment, then tightened around the pad.

Valerie didn’t say anything at first. Her jaw flexed once. Then she stepped back from the table, gaze turning sharp.

“What the hell are they trying to do?” Valerie muttered. “Trace the Link?”

Judy turned toward her, slower this time. “Looks like a passive flag tracking emotional telemetry, not a full dive. Probably just marking high-frequency activity between us.”

She held the datapad a little tighter.

Valerie’s jaw clenched. “So they know we’re connected. Deep.”

Judy nodded. “Yeah. And they’re watching for what that kind of bond might reveal how we move, react… when we’re most vulnerable.”

Valerie’s eyes narrowed. “They can’t see Sera through it. But if they’re watching the two of us close enough…”

“They’ll notice the shape of our world,” Judy said softly. “Even if they can’t trace the pieces directly.”

Valerie didn’t look away. “Then we don’t give them a shape to follow.”

Judy’s hand found hers again tighter now, like the Link wasn’t enough. “Agreed.”

Judy swallowed hard. “Tertiary,” she read. “Sera Starling. Approx. 12. No registered ID... referred to PRIMARY as Mom, SECONDARY as Mama…”

“She’s in the log.” Valerie’s voice went flat.

Vicky moved in closer, her tone like a blade dulled only by control. “They’re observing family dynamics. Testing emotional leverage.” She didn’t look up. “Trying to figure out if Sera’s a liability… or a tool.”

“They noted no formal guardianship records,” Judy said, a bitter curl in her mouth. “Guess love doesn’t come with paperwork.”

Valerie leaned both hands on the edge of the table, her weight shifting forward. The movement was slowly measured, but her whole body radiated control barely held. “This was never about just surveillance,” she said. “They were gauging response patterns. Trying to see if we still matter.”

“We do,” Vicky said. Quiet, and absolute.

Judy didn’t look away. “They called you a legendary threat,” she said to Valerie. “High priority.”

Valerie gave a small laugh. There wasn’t much humor in it. “Legendary’s a nice word for unfinished business.”

Judy reached across and touched her wrist. Light, grounding. “They’re watching when we leave the camp.”

“Accidents happen in the Badlands,” Valerie murmured. “Right.”

The datapad chimed softly extraction complete.

Carol let out a quiet breath. “Save the log. Pull the rest. We need a full trace on where this data was headed.”

“I’m on it,” Judy said, fingers already flying.

Vicky crossed her arms. “We need to tell Panam. And I’m doubling the perimeter again. This isn’t over.”

“Not by a long shot,” Valerie murmured, emerald eyes still locked on the last line of the log:

Uplink terminated. Last telemetry received.

She looked toward the tent flap again the direction Sera and Sandra had run off just minutes before.

Judy caught her glance. Her hand found Valerie’s. Tight, warm, real.

“We’re not alone in this,” she said.

“No,” Valerie said softly, “but they sure as hell wish we were.”

Valerie glanced toward the side flap of the garage, emerald eyes catching the dusty path that led around the tool tents.

“I’m gonna check on Sera,” she murmured, already stepping close. Her hand slid along Judy’s back, fingers brushing gently at her side as she leaned in and kissed the corner of her mouth. “Be back soon, babe.”

Valerie’s kiss lingered like warmth under Judy’s skin even after she slipped through the tent flap. Judy adjusted her grip on the datapad, refocusing as the drone’s relay readouts updated.

Judy ran another diagnostic. Still pulling encrypted signal tags, nothing clean, not yet.

The flap behind her rustled.

Bianca walked in, wiping her palms off on a gray cloth, the ends frayed, stained faint with oil. Her boots tracked a thin line of dust, but she didn’t come too close. Just leaned one shoulder against the far table near the bench.

She glanced back outside, where the girls had gone. “Is there a reason your daughter’s trying to follow me around?”

Judy didn’t look up right away. She tapped a command into the pad, eyes tracing the code scroll. “She’s not following you.”

Bianca tilted her head, just slightly. “Could’ve fooled me. She’s quick. Quiet, too.”

“She’s curious,” Judy said. “She wants to help. That’s all.”

Bianca let out a soft breath, like she might’ve said something more, but stopped herself. “You got a good thing going here. Not every camp has that.”

Judy nodded, still focused on the drone’s interface. “We do.”

A beat passed. Bianca uncrossed one arm, dragged a cloth slowly between her fingers. “I remember seeing her in the mess tent a few nights ago. Thought she was just another tech geeks kid.”

“She’s not,” Judy said calmly. “She’s ours.”

Bianca’s brows lifted slightly. “Right. Wasn’t aware you two had adopted officially.”

Judy’s hand didn’t stop working. “We don’t need a state stamp to love someone.”

Another small silence passed. Then Bianca shifted again, this time glancing at the relay. “Signal data coming through?”

Judy leaned her elbow on the table, arm braced as she adjusted the scan field. “Slow. Most of it’s layered false nodes, dummy loops. They didn’t want anyone seeing what it tagged in real time.”

“You think it saw something worth hiding?” Bianca asked.

Judy looked at her now. Calm. Steady. “That’s what I’m gonna find out.”

Bianca gave a short nod, stepping back toward the flap. “If you need clean voltage routing or help tracing uplinks, I’ve worked with similar boards before. Used to fix ‘em in Baja before I ended up here.”

“I’ll let you know,” Judy said. Not cold, just flat. No opening.

Bianca lingered one more second, then ducked out, canvas rustling behind her.

Judy exhaled slowly, dark brown eyes falling back to the pad. Still decrypting.

She reached for her toolkit again, fingers steady even as her mind worked the angles. Bianca hadn’t asked about the drone directly. She didn’t ask what they’d found in the log.

She’d noticed Sera, and Judy wasn’t about to forget that.

The drone’s readout shifted. Judy leaned closer, fingers tightening just slightly around the datapad.

Observation Log 15: LOG ID 451-3L-AZPHX...

Her breath barely stirred as she scrolled, eyes tracking each line in silence. It was yesterday’s surveillance window. Long, precise, and cold.

She didn’t speak, not even to herself.

Her thumb hovered as the lines spelled out her trip. The fight. The blood on her collar. Kassidy’s name was marked in black and white.

She clenched her jaw. Valerie had tried to talk her down. The log showed that much. Still she’d gone, because she had to. Because Valerie needed her. Because no one else could've walked into that place and come back out.

Her gaze slid further. The tent. Sera and Sandra sitting. Hours unaccounted for in stillness. The phrase they used was “low threat awareness.”

Like being human meant being weak.

Her stomach turned slightly, but she kept scrolling. At 19:47, the log caught them outside the shower truck. That brief moment Valerie leaned against her, soft warmth under the stars, hair still damp. The drone had seen it and recorded it.

Saw Sera standing outside alone too. Judy swallowed thickly. The drone had seen her daughter.

“Six minutes,” she murmured, lips barely parting.

Her fingers ran along the datapad’s edge as if trying to scrub it clean. It was more than intel. This was routine. Not a one-off surveillance. The drone had been watching all day. Not just today. Yesterday. Possibly since they arrived a few days ago.

They were being tracked, documented like data points in a goddamn case study, and yet no external comm signals. No visible transmissions.

That part stuck. No handoff. No real-time uplink. Whoever was running this… they weren’t in a hurry. They were waiting. Watching. Logging everything.

Judy exhaled, her voice dry. “Sera was never off their radar.”

She tapped the side of the pad, pulling the logs into a secondary partition. Her jaw tensed. This wasn’t just Militech crawling their way in. This was strategic slow pressure. Internal reconnaissance.

Bianca’s face drifted back through her mind again. Gray shirt. That voice was just casual enough. “Thought she was another tech geeks kid.”

Judy’s fingers hovered near the interface but didn’t move.

“She knew.”

She sat there a beat longer, alone in the garage’s quiet, save for a low whine from a power converter across the room. Dust filtered through the canvas seams overhead. Nothing else stirred.

She clicked the pad off, tucked it under one arm, and rose slowly from the bench.

Time to find Valerie. She wasn’t keeping this one quiet. Not anymore.

The dirt floor of the garage shifted faintly under Judy’s boots as she stood, the weight of the datapad settled against her side like something heavier than it was. She gave a quick glance toward the workbench drone still quiet, cables still humming from the relay. Nothing new blinking. No change in diagnostics. But the cold lingered in her hands anyway.

Valerie’s voice still sat somewhere in her chest, warmth folded into the memory of that kiss before she stepped out.

Judy tugged back the tent flap just enough to catch the angle of the sun. Low. Not quite golden yet, but soft enough to stretch their shadows longer along the dirt paths weaving through camp. Somewhere not far off, someone was testing a speaker line music drifted through in warbles.

She scanned for red hair, and her cowgirl hat first.

It didn't take long.

Valerie was halfway down the ridge slope just behind the sensor tents, crouched low beside Sera and Sandra. Sera had something laid out across a crate sketchpad maybe, or a relay schematic. Sandra was nodding along, gesturing toward the dune edge with one hand, like she’d seen something worth circling back on.

Valerie wasn’t speaking, just listening, eyes flicking between the girls and the dunes. Even from here, Judy could read the tension coiled in her legs too still for casual, too poised to call it relaxed.

Judy stepped into the light, slow. Let the canvas fall back behind her.

It took a second, but Valerie looked up. Like she felt her before she saw her.

Their eyes met emerald and brown. Judy just nodded once, no words yet. Valerie straightened, gave Sandra a soft pat on the shoulder, and murmured something to Sera that made the girl smile before heading off toward the ridge again.

They met halfway, boots scuffing soft dust as they closed the distance.

Judy didn’t break stride. Just slipped her hand into Valerie’s like it belonged there, and it did. Their fingers laced easily, no pressure, just grounding.

“Did you find anything else?” Valerie asked, low, eyes narrowing faintly.

Judy handed her the datapad.

“Yesterday,” she said. “They were watching before the drone went down. Logged everything. The meds, my trip, you recovering, Sera… everything.”

Valerie’s grip shifted slightly. She didn’t curse, didn’t flinch. Just drew the pad up between them and started to read.

Judy waited, the breeze rustling soft through her hair. A couple tents flapped nearby, the sound distant, steady. Camp was still moving around them, but the space they stood in felt separate now.

Valerie’s eyes paused on the line about Sera standing under the stars. Alone. Tracked.

“Guess we know what they’re flagging,” she murmured.

Judy nodded. “Telemetry from the Link too. Probably flagged it during my return. Not an active trace, but they’re watching how we are connected.”

Valerie’s jaw ticked.

“They don’t just want us,” she said. “They’re mapping us.”

Judy didn’t say anything. She didn't need to.

Valerie handed the pad back and took a slow step forward, eyes scanning the horizon the way she always did when the pieces started clicking.

Judy moved with her.

“They saw everything,” she said finally. “Even what we thought was safe.”

Valerie’s voice was low. “Nothing’s safe. Not until we end this.”

The two of them stood quiet another moment, shoulders brushing. Just watching the wind drift across the dunes where the sun started dipping behind the upper ridge. The kind of quiet that never really meant peace, just the space before something broke open.

Valerie leaned in, close to Judy’s ear.

“They’re underestimating us again.”

Judy gave a dry smile. “Good. Let them.”

Valerie’s posture stiffened first. Her fingers twitched near Judy’s before she let go, already shifting forward, emerald eyes locked.

Judy tried to hold her back, but Valerie was moving.

Bianca was walking a slow arc near the outer tents, clipboard in hand too casual for the way her eyes scanned the camp. Like she was ticking boxes that weren’t on any list the rest of them had seen.

Valerie’s boots hit hard against the packed dirt. “Do you enjoy watching my daughter?” Her voice was low, sharp. “What’s your game?”

Bianca turned slightly, didn’t flinch. “Technically,” she said, “she’s not your daughter. Not by law. If we were still in Night City, you’d be looking at a kidnapping charge.”

Valerie’s jaw clenched. “You leave her the fuck alone.”

“I haven’t done anything,” Bianca said, spreading her hands faintly. “You’re making something out of nothing.”

“I see the way you move. Every circle, every shadow like you already know where to look.”

Bianca took a step forward. “That because I do my job, Valerie. Something this camp needs more of.”

Before it could snap worse, Panam’s voice cut through, clear and commanding. “Alright, stop.” She stepped between them, arms partially raised, shoulders tense. “Val, I know you don’t trust her. I get it. But nothing’s pointed to her yet.”

“She’s the one operating the spy network,” Valerie growled, not backing off. “The logs say someone’s been reporting telemetry and tracking from inside.”

Panam turned toward Bianca. “Then why the sudden interest? Why now?”

Bianca’s voice stayed measured. “Your kid followed me. I didn’t approach her. And I only offered to help with the drone because it matters.”

Valerie was nearly nose to nose now, lips parted, ready to bite.

Panam looked between them again. “Val… I know you feel this. And I’m not saying don’t trust your gut. But unless we have proof Bianca fed anything to Militech, I can’t move on suspicion alone.”

Valerie’s hands balled into fists. “She’s playing you.”

That’s when Judy came up, datapad tucked under one arm, her voice quiet but direct. “Still decrypting the full log. Haven’t pulled the operative name yet, but they’ve been watching ever since we got here. Coordinates match the timeline. Someone local is feeding them.”

Bianca turned to Panam, eyes cooler now. “Ask around. I’ve done nothing but sensor sweeps and gear checks. My record’s clean.”

No one moved for a beat.

Panam’s gaze stayed steady on Valerie. “Let her hang herself, if she’s dirty. But don’t give her a reason to cry foul.”

Valerie didn’t answer. Just stared past Panam, straight into Bianca’s unreadable eyes.

Behind them, the wind kicked up light dust. Somewhere in the distance, the faint scrape of a tool on metal echoed from the garage.

Bianca tilted her head. “Anything else?”

Judy’s grip tightened around the pad. Valerie’s jaw didn’t ease.

This wasn’t over.

Judy took a slow breath, fingers tightening just slightly around the edge of the datapad before she tapped the screen, pulling up the surveillance snippet. She turned the device toward Panam without a word.

The footage wasn’t dramatic. Just quiet stillness. Sera, standing near the shower trucks, hair damp and sticking faintly to her cheek, her arms folded in that way she did when something was weighing on her. She’d stayed out there alone for six minutes long enough to feel it.

Panam watched the playback in silence, her brow drawing down more with each second.

“That’s a bit obsessive for surveillance,” she said finally. “Doesn’t feel like recon. Feels like they were… I don’t know. Probing for something. Vulnerability.”

A voice cut in from just behind Valerie’s shoulder.

Bianca.

She stepped into the edge of their circle, arms crossed, boots barely disturbing the dust. “The only thing I see is a family breaking camp protocols,” she said, tone calm, just a little too even. “Aren’t showers supposed to follow the assigned cluster times? I thought families were supposed to go in together with less water, less waste.”

Panam turned toward her slowly. “Time’s not the issue. It wasn’t peak hours. No one else needed that truck, or you would’ve heard me getting yelled at from across camp.”

She looked at Judy and Valerie. “I know this is all new for you, being a family. But I can’t start handing out special treatment, even with everything going on. Just lucky no one needed the second truck.”

Judy nodded. “We get it,” she said. “We’ll talk to Sera. See how she feels about it.”

Not far off, Sera and Sandra were still standing partway down the ridge slope, where Valerie had left them. Sera had one boot braced on a crate, sketchpad tucked under her arm, her eyes locked on the confrontation above. Sandra stood just behind her, arms crossed, posture guarded, gaze shifting between the adults but never leaving Sera’s face for long.

They hadn’t moved since the first raised voice. Just watched, and waited.

Valerie’s focus didn’t waver. She stared straight at Bianca. “You said she’s not technically my daughter. And now you’re suddenly concerned with family logistics?”

Bianca met her gaze. “Because if you’re going to act like one, then there are rules. Rules that keep this camp running.”

Valerie stepped forward, just enough that Judy’s hand brushed her back, grounding her. Her voice was low, teeth gritted. “I’m going to catch you slipping. And when I do, you’ll wish you never fucked with my family.”

Bianca didn’t flinch. “I haven’t done anything.”

Panam exhaled slowly, her eyes flicking between them like she was weighing more than just words. “Alright. That’s enough for now.” She glanced at Judy. “Let me know if anything else shakes loose from the data. Otherwise everyone cools off. We’re not gonna rip the camp in half chasing smoke.”

Bianca’s posture didn’t change, but the slight twitch at the edge of her mouth could’ve been an annoyance. Could’ve been a calculation.

Judy kept her eyes on her. “You say you haven’t done anything,” she said, voice quiet, “but you sure act like someone who’s already written the report.”

Bianca didn’t respond. Just gave a faint shrug and stepped back without turning her back fully. Her boots moved silent over the dirt as she slipped behind one of the tents, fading from view like she hadn’t been there at all.

Valerie stayed still a second longer, jaw set, the tension running sharp along her shoulders.

Judy reached for her hand not pulling, just there.

Valerie let out a slow breath. “Let’s go.”

Sera stood a little taller when she saw them, but didn’t move yet.

Valerie and Judy made their way down the slope, the tension not fully gone from their bodies, but muted and coiled now beneath a different kind of purpose.

Panam stayed behind, eyes fixed in the direction Bianca had disappeared. She didn’t say a word, but her jaw had tightened.

The wind had picked up just enough to carry dust behind her heels.

The slope crunched softly beneath their boots as Valerie and Judy made their way down, moving side by side but without speaking. Tension still rode Valerie’s shoulders, not sharp anymore, just coiled low like the leftover hum of a rifle after the last round had fired.

Sera looked up the moment they got close. Her stance hadn’t shifted, but her eyes had quieter now, not with fear, just that focused kind of waiting she always got when she didn’t quite know what to ask yet.

Sandra kept one hand resting near the top of the crate, protective without being obvious. She glanced at Judy first, catching her expression, then at Valerie reading more than either of them had said aloud.

“You okay?” Sera asked, voice steady. She didn’t blink when she met Valerie’s eyes.

Valerie gave a soft grunt and stopped just in front of her. “Yeah,” she said, and her tone had that dryness to it that always came right after she decided not to yell at someone. “Had to deal with something camp politics-y.”

Judy gave Sera a quick once-over, then brushed her thumb lightly against the side of Sera’s arm. “Thanks for not charging in,” she murmured. “I know it was probably tempting.”

Sera gave a half-smirk. “We stayed in sight. You always tell me that counts.”

Sandra nudged her gently with her elbow, then looked at Judy. “Is everything still secure on the drone?”

Judy nodded. “Still combing it. I’ve got enough to flag someone’s attention, just not enough to pin them yet.”

Valerie rubbed the side of her jaw, then turned slightly to scan the ridge. “Where were you two heading before you stopped to play recon?”

Sera tilted her head toward the south ridge line. “Sandra thought she saw a glint off the third dune. Could be a bad reflector, maybe a popped housing on one of the relay towers. We were gonna check it.”

Valerie’s brow rose. “You were gonna check it without backup?”

Sandra lifted a brow right back. “It’s a glint, not a firefight. If it looked off, we’d’ve called it in.”

Valerie exhaled through her nose, not quite a sigh, but close. Her hand found her hip, thumb grazing over the edge of her belt. “Next time, just ping the garage. You spot something weird, I’d rather you wait ten minutes and go with a team than end up dealing with something you can’t radio out of.”

Sera nodded, not defensive just taking it in. “Yeah. Got it.”

Sandra shifted beside her, more thoughtful than chastened. “We’re not trying to go solo. We just didn’t want to break focus in the middle of everything else going on.”

Valerie’s gaze softened a little. She looked at both of them, then reached out and gently ruffled Sera’s bangs beneath her sketchpad. “Still getting used to someone giving a damn, huh?”

Sera wrinkled her nose, but didn’t pull away. “Kinda weird,” she admitted. “But not bad.”

Judy smiled faintly and gave Sandra a look. “You two keep surprising people. I’m guessing that’s why Bianca’s got her wires in a twist.”

“Wasn’t just her,” Sandra muttered, glancing toward the slope above them. “People talk. Don’t always say it loud, but they wonder what makes someone important enough to be protected.”

Sera’s grip on the sketchpad tightened, but her expression didn’t flicker.

Valerie caught that. Stepped in just slightly, tilting her chin toward both of them. “You’re not protected because of who we are. You’re protected because you’re ours. That’s it. That’s the whole reason.”

Judy nodded, brushing her knuckles against Sera’s shoulder again. “They don’t get to rewrite that.”

A pause held between them was quiet, but full.

Then Sera glanced toward the horizon again. “So do you wanna come check the glint? If it’s nothing, at least it’s a walk.”

Valerie let out a low chuckle. “Figured you’d loop back to that.”

Judy tilted her head. “I’m not opposed. Beats standing around in the heat, and we’re already sweating.”

Sandra gave a short nod. “Got my goggles in the crate. We can make it a loop. Swing by the third dune and check the old beacon stand while we’re out there.”

Valerie glanced between them, then toward the ridge again. “Alright. But we do this smartly. Call in every ten minutes, and we stick together. If anything even feels off, we double back. No pushing.”

Sera grinned and adjusted her grip on the sketchpad. “Yes, Mom.”

Judy bumped Valerie’s hip as they started walking. “Look at us. A whole scouting party before dinner.”

Valerie smiled sideways, the lines around her eyes easing a little. “Feels like old times. Just with no sunscreen and better attitudes.”

They moved as one, boots crunching over the dust again, the afternoon sun trailing longer behind them as the slope gave way to deeper dunes and the glint ahead waited still flickering, still unknown.

The light ahead didn’t shimmer the way the sun on metal usually did. Faint, irregular. Like something not quite powered down, not quite meant to be seen. They moved steady along the ridge path, dry wind curling low across the sand. Four sets of boots moved without rush, but not without purpose an easy rhythm earned through hours of working side by side.

Sera walked slightly ahead, sketchpad in hand, her emerald eyes tracking the terrain like a half-solved schematic. Sandra kept pace beside her, goggles dropped to scan the horizon, hand tapping against the strap of her belt as she moved. Focused, alert. But not afraid.

Valerie came up just behind them, her cowgirl hat dipped low, one hand resting near her hip where her weapon would’ve been if this wasn’t a recon walk. The other casually flicked a pebble aside as she walked. She didn’t look tense but her eyes traced every slope edge, every unnatural rise.

Judy moved beside her, the datapad tucked firm in her grip. Her tank clung faintly from heat, but her posture stayed squared, eyes scanning more than just the tech. The drone log hadn’t left her mind since the ridge, and neither had Bianca.

“Still bugging you?” Valerie murmured, voice low and steady as gravel.

Judy gave the smallest nod. “Hate that we didn’t catch it sooner.”

“You caught it,” Valerie said. “And you traced it. No one else even knew it was there.”

Judy’s lip curled faintly, not quite a smile, but close. “You always say that.”

Valerie’s hand brushed lightly against hers as they walked, fingers trailing for a second before falling back to her side. “Because you keep proving me right.”

Ahead, Sandra raised her hand. A signal to stop. Sera dropped low beside her near the curve of the third dune, where sand dipped and caught on a half-buried shape. Wires peeked out in tangles of red and burnt copper. Too clean to be scrapped. Too hidden to be casual.

“Low signal casing,” Sandra said, crouching beside the box. “Outer plating’s Nomad-style, but the metal underneath? Definitely not camp-issued.”

Sera ran a hand over one jagged edge. “Scorched relay node. Could’ve been covered deeper, but the last storm must’ve kicked it up.”

Valerie crouched beside them, her shadow cutting across the exposed side. She didn’t touch it, just hovered her fingers near the outer mesh. “It’s Militech. Sub-layer plating. Same casing they use for net pings in unstable zones. Passive comm sweep. They bury it in transition zones, waiting for traffic.”

Judy stepped forward, kneeling by the junction point. “If it’s still warm, I can trace the link. Might even catch what it bounced to last.”

Sandra popped the side panel. A soft hiss escaped capacitor pressure releasing. She didn’t flinch. “Still hot,” she said. “Active until pretty damn recently.”

No one moved for a beat.

Then Valerie stood, hat tilted forward against the sun. “It’s not a listening post. It’s bait.”

Judy looked up from her interface. “A net,” she said. “Bianca didn’t plant it. But she knew it was here.”

Sera turned, her red hair catching sun across her shoulder. “So… she’s watching who trips it.”

“Or who avoids it,” Sandra added, softly.

The datapad in Judy’s hand blinked green. Trace lock established. She exhaled, rose slowly.

“Got enough to find the bounce node,” she said. “If it’s patched to a mid-range uplink, we can triangulate the rest.”

Valerie reached over, brushing dust from her jeans with one hand. “Then we bury this. Quiet. And wait to see who comes looking.”

Sera grinned, already pivoting back toward the ridge. “Told you the glint was worth checking.”

Valerie smirked. “You earned a grilled cheese for that.”

Sandra nudged her. “Two if you didn’t say I told you so.”

Sera raised both arms. “Too late.”

They turned back up the slope, walking with dust in their boots and something more focused in their pace.

The sun was slipping down now, catching long shadows behind them.

They walked forward together Valerie’s hat tilted low against the wind, Judy’s datapad still pulsing faint in her grip.

The trail was quiet, but their path was clear.

The wind followed them as they crossed the next ridge, carrying the faint trace of solder smoke and battery scent of old tech cooking under the sun. Judy kept her eyes on the screen, the datapad’s signal trace sharpening with each step. A new line blinked to life, pulsing soft orange.

She slowed, head tilting slightly. “We’re close.”

Sandra angled toward her. “Dead-end bounce?”

“More like a redirect. Signal skips from the relay box, up to a mid-uplink node... then anchors somewhere grounded. Static hold. Could be a maintenance valve. Could be a repeater node.”

Sera was already scanning the low terrain ahead. The camp’s rear line curved just beyond the next stretch, where the bathroom truck sat parked against the slope’s natural bend. Boxy and matte brown, its paneling was streaked with dust but otherwise unremarkable. No noise, or movement.

Judy’s datapad chimed again.

Sera frowned. “That’s the bathroom truck.”

Sandra muttered, “Don’t love that.”

Valerie exhaled through her nose. “Could be embedded under it. Passive repeater hidden during setup. If Bianca didn’t plant it, someone else might’ve before the camp was even set up.”

They reached the edge of the truck’s rear corner. Valerie swept her eyes over the side panels, nothing obvious. Just the sealed port hatches and the gray emergency latch by the waste valve.

Judy crouched low, free hand brushing the seam line under the vent shield. She looked back at the pad. “This is it. Signal’s grounding here. Might be buried under the chassis or threaded through the valve line.”

Sera stepped beside her, scanning the heat distortion with narrowed eyes. “We’ve got a heat echo. Faint. Could be residual from a relay battery.”

Sandra crouched opposite them, lifting the corner of a loose panel near the underside brace. “Bingo,” she muttered. “The wiring doesn’t match the camp install schematic.”

Valerie folded her arms, posture tightening just slightly. “Are you telling me someone rigged our bathroom truck as a dead relay zone?”

Judy gave a quiet snort. “Guess that’s one way to eavesdrop on everybody’s shit.”

Sera gave her a look. “Literal shit.”

Valerie muttered, “Well… since we’re here…” and stepped up to the door, giving it a little push with her boot. “That bitch really did annoy the piss outta me.”

Judy groaned, “Please don’t let that be a real pun.”

Sera’s laugh came short and bright. Sandra didn’t laugh, but the corner of her mouth twitched.

Valerie didn’t grin, didn’t move from the door right away either. She gave it another light nudge with her boot and muttered, “I wasn’t joking.”

Judy blinked. “Wait, seriously?”

Valerie tilted her head toward her, hat brim catching the light. “That argument earlier? Had me clenched harder than I’d like to admit.”

Sera made a choking noise that she barely managed to turn into a cough. Sandra turned away completely, shoulders shaking once, silent laughter contained like it was some kind of professional courtesy.

Judy raised her hands. “Alright, alright. I’ll stand guard. Go pee before you make this worse.”

Valerie was already pulling the door open. “You think I was bluffing all those times I said diplomacy gives me bladder anxiety?”

“No,” Judy said, sliding her back against the outer wall of the truck beside Sera. “I just thought you were being dramatic.”

A muffled “I am dramatic,” she said stepping inside, followed by the latch clicking shut from within.

Sera looked up at Judy with her best deadpan. “We’re officially surveilling the bathroom now.”

Sandra leaned against the side brace of the truck, arms crossed again, expression even. “Guess that makes us a perimeter detail.”

“I hate that that makes sense,” Judy muttered, tucking the datapad tighter under her arm.

They waited a minute, dust curling gently at their boots. Far off, a camp radio crackled something unintelligible, the signal warping in the breeze.

Then the latch clicked again. Valerie stepped out of the stall, crossed the narrow interior to the mounted greywater sink, and gave the spigot a sharp twist. A thin stream trickled down; she ran her hands under it quickly, no soap in sight, just enough to pass for clean.

She opened the exterior door a moment later and stepped back outside, flinging her fingers dry and adjusting her hat with the other.

“All yours,” she said with dry satisfaction. “The world’s a safer place.”

“No,” Judy replied, deadpan. “Just slightly less full of you.”

Sera nearly tripped on her own boot.

Sandra sighed. “We are never telling Panam about this mission in detail.”

Valerie smirked as she rejoined them. “What happens at the bathroom truck stays at the bathroom truck.”

With that, they started moving again. Signal in Judy’s grip, tension just a notch lower. The sun was almost touching the horizon now, shadows stretching long behind them, but their direction was clear.

They weren’t done hunting. Just making a pit stop.

The sun was lower now, bleeding rust across the slope edges as the four of them made their way back down toward the heart of camp. The wind had softened, trading heat for dust, but the kind that settled rather than stirred. Evening voices rose faint from the mess tent, the clang of cookware echoing across the dirt walkways. The smell of something fried clung to the air.

They rounded the corner past the comms trailer just as Vicky came striding up from the tool tent lane, a canteen slung from her shoulder, sleeves rolled halfway to her elbows. Her gaze caught them fast, and softened just as quick when it landed on Sandra.

“Hey, sweetheart,” she called, a smile edging into her voice. “Are you enjoying your little adventure?”

Sandra grinned wide, boots scuffing proudly as she closed the distance. “You won’t believe this, Mom,” she said, barely holding the excitement in. “But I helped find a Militech relay box. Hidden outside camp, like buried under a dune. Real covert shit.”

Vicky’s brow arched with practiced calm, but her eyes flicked straight to Judy for confirmation.

“She’s not exaggerating,” Judy said. “The relay was wired clean under the sand, tied to a bounce off a box near the bathroom truck. Sandra and Sera were the ones who spotted the glint. We traced it through.”

Vicky gave a quiet, impressed whistle, her arm coming up to rest gently around Sandra’s shoulder. “Guess I owe you a new patch for that one.”

Sandra practically beamed, shifting just enough to glance toward Sera who responded with a small, satisfied smirk but didn’t say anything.

Vicky’s expression shifted then. Still calm, but the corner of her mouth tightened. “We’ve got a problem.”

Valerie’s hand hovered closer to her hip again, her hat tilted back slightly. “Go on.”

“Carol went to finish scanning the drone,” Vicky said, tone clipped now. “Someone wiped it. Fully. Logs, backup files, even the timestamp metadata scrubbed. There’s nothing left to pull.”

Judy's brow furrowed. “It wasn’t me. I haven’t even closed the secondary packet yet. And Carol’s solid she’d have flagged any tamper.”

Valerie’s voice dropped low. “Has Bianca been anywhere near the garage since earlier?”

Vicky shook her head. “No. Panam and Cassidy made sure of it. She’s been on generator duty all afternoon, and they’ve both been watching her like hawks since that flare-up.”

Valerie’s jaw worked a second, then stilled. “So either someone else knew where the drone was... or we’ve got another pair of hands in the loop.”

Judy looked at the datapad again, thumb hovering over the still-active trace. “And if they wiped the drone, they’re not hiding the surveillance, they're hiding what else it saw.”

Sandra’s grin faded as she leaned subtly into Vicky’s side, gears already turning again.

Sera, quiet until now, tilted her head. “So… we flush ‘em out?”

Valerie’s eyes narrowed, smile cold. “No. We bait ‘em back in.”

Valerie’s eyes narrowed slightly, her stance still squared from the walk. “Did Carol run a trace?” she asked, voice low. “Quickhack signature, remote ping, anything that might’ve touched the drone before it wiped?”

Vicky shifted her weight slightly, hand dropping from Sandra’s shoulder as her focus locked onto Valerie. “Carol started a trace,” she said. “Ran it the second she saw the scrub. Problem is, whatever hit the drone didn’t leave a ping signature. No spike, no external handshake.”

Judy frowned. “So it wasn’t a remote breach?”

Vicky shook her head once. “If it was, it was the cleanest I’ve seen since Night City. No spike trail, no packet lag. Either they used a hardline and wiped it after… or it was already laced with something deeper before it ever left the crate.”

Valerie’s mouth tightened. “Like a timed kill-switch.”

“Most likely.” Vicky exhaled. “Carol thinks it might’ve been rigged to auto-wipe after a certain trigger. Could be location-based, could’ve keyed off movement… or proximity to a specific signal. We’re not sure yet.”

Judy’s grip on the datapad tightened. “Then it was never just recon. It was also a delivery.”

Sera’s eyes narrowed slightly. “A Trojan horse.”

Valerie gave a slow nod, looking past them all toward the garage. “And now someone’s covering the trail before we can follow it.”

Sandra shifted beside Vicky, voice quiet. “So the data wasn’t the point. We were.”

Valerie looked at her. “Yeah. Us. And whoever planted that box wanted to see how close they could get before we noticed.” She turned back to Vicky. “Tell Carol to keep the casing. I want it fully disassembled. Check for spike residue, nanite scoring, anything that’d leave a signature after the wipe.”

“I’ll let her know,” Vicky said. “And I’ll get Cassidy to check the power load logs. If something interfaced through the garage grid, it might’ve left a draw.”

Valerie nodded, the sharp edge in her posture not softening. “Good. ‘Cause if this was just recon, we’re behind the curve. But if it was more…”

Judy’s voice came low beside her. “Then we’re already inside the game.”

Valerie didn’t answer. She just turned slightly, emerald eyes flicking toward the rising moon. “Then we play smarter.”

Valerie drew in a steady breath, her eyes cutting back toward the slope they’d just come from. “We return to routine,” she said, voice low but firm. “Dinner first. Showers after. Then we sit by the fire for a while.”

Sera tilted her head. “Let Bianca think we’re relaxing?”

Valerie gave a slow nod. “Let her watch. But we watch her too.”

Judy’s fingers brushed against hers, grounding the edge of it. “No pattern to break if we don’t make one.”

With a faint grunt of agreement, Valerie turned and started toward the mess tent. The others followed without speaking, the weight of the day still tucked quiet under their steps. They passed a pair of Aldecaldo teens hauling linens, the smell of spice and dry rations growing stronger with each step. Camp wasn’t asleep yet, but it had the tone of early evening half-finished tools, half-finished conversations.

Inside the mess tent, warmth pressed in from the field stoves, amber light soft across the canvas. A handful of tables were already full Cassidy laughing with two engineers near the back, a small group of techs passing around dented canteens.

And Bianca.

She was seated near the edge of the room, alone at a four-top, meal half-finished, posture casual. Not slouched. Not rigid. Just deliberately relaxed.

Her eyes flicked up the moment the flap parted.

Valerie didn’t flinch. She moved first, picking a table a few rows down, just far enough to avoid confrontation but close enough for a clean line of sight.

Judy set the datapad gently beside their tray stack, nodding toward the stew pot. “Smells like real chili tonight.”

Sera peered over, wrinkling her nose. “If it's Carol’s turn, it might be.”

Sandra smirked faintly. “We’ll survive.”

They filed through in order, Valerie quiet but alert, Judy lingering just long enough to catch Carol’s eye at the serving line and give a silent nod. Chili, flatbread, some kind of sautéed greens. Rations made decent by effort, the kind of meal that sat warm in your ribs.

By the time they all sat, Bianca hadn’t moved. But she was still watching. Not obvious. Just enough.

Valerie set her spoon down between bites, her gaze locked calmly on the back wall.

“Let her watch,” she said again, quieter now.

Judy nodded, shoulders brushing hers.

“And when she slips,” Sandra added softly, “we’ll be ready.”

Valerie was mid-bite, spoon resting just against her bottom lip, when she caught it.

Faint. Just the smallest flicker across Bianca’s irises a pale blue shimmer, quick and precise, no wider than a blink. Not the natural light from the tent bulbs, not a trick of the ambient lantern glow. Subdermal transfer. Optical-based. Secure line, most likely. Not a mistake.

A message. A challenge.

Bianca didn’t look their way. She didn’t shift in her seat or touch a neural slot. Her fork scraped the bowl softly, head tilted as if lost in thought. But that shimmer had been deliberately directed toward Valerie’s line of sight and no one else’s. Not careless.

Intentional.

Valerie didn’t move at first. Let the moment settle in her gut the way her instincts always told her to: feel it, don’t just see it. Count the rhythm of her breath. One, two… then exhale slowly. Watch the subtle cadence of someone who wants to be noticed.

She set her spoon down softly, the quietest of clicks on metal.

Vicky had just joined them, tray in hand. She ruffled Sandra’s hair as she sat beside her, muttering something under her breath that made Sandra roll her eyes but smile anyway. Sera was finishing her flatbread, talking low between bites about a project she wanted to pitch to Carol. Judy was focused on them both, laughing softly at something Vicky added.

Valerie leaned in without breaking her posture, her hand brushing gently along Judy’s thigh under the table. She pressed a slow kiss to Judy’s cheek not rushed, not performative then let her lips linger near her ear.

“She shimmered,” she whispered, just audible beneath the low hum of camp chatter. “Left eye. Data transfer. It wasn't a glitch.”

Judy’s body didn’t flinch. But Valerie felt the shift. The way Judy’s breath slowed half a beat, then returned to normal. She reached for her mug, lifted it with a smooth motion, eyes drifting to Sera like nothing was wrong.

“What kind?” she murmured into the rim, her voice so low it barely carried.

Valerie’s fingers traced a slow line along Judy’s knee. “Ocular burst. Blue. Secure-pulse signature. Not meant to be hidden.”

Judy sipped. “So she wanted you to see.”

Valerie nodded once. “She’s baiting. Trying to see what I’ll do.”

Across the tent, Bianca set her utensils down with quiet precision. She still hadn’t looked their way.

She knew, and now so did they.

Valerie took another slow bite of the chili, the back of her spoon catching on a softened bean. The spice lingered, but it wasn’t the heat keeping her jaw tight.

She didn’t lift her eyes when Bianca stood.

Just listened.

Boots scuffed lightly against the dirt floor. Chair legs scraped back, no rush, no shuffle. Bianca moved like someone who’d never once been unsure of her place. She brought her tray to the wash basin at the far end of the mess tent, rinsed it clean with one hand while the other rolled her sleeve back with an absent efficiency.

Valerie kept her gaze just low enough not to be obvious. Just angled enough to track every step.

Bianca dried her hands on the thigh of her cargo pants, turned, and headed down the aisle between tables, and didn’t stop.

She passed just behind where Valerie was seated, just close enough the edge of her shirt brushed faint against the worn canvas seatback.

Then she paused.

Turned her head only slightly toward Judy. Her voice was quiet, but clear enough the whole table caught it.

“If your wife keeps looking at me like this,” Bianca said, her blue eyes steady, just a bit too amused, “you might need to find a new tent to sleep in.”

Judy’s jaw tensed.

Valerie didn’t move, but her spoon settled into the bowl with a quiet clink.

Judy didn’t look away. Not from Bianca. Not even for a second.

She didn’t smile either, just let her fingers rest on the edge of her tray, motionless. “Don't flatter yourself,” she said, voice low, casual, but without the slightest hint of warmth. “Val was just tracking a rat problem.”

Bianca tilted her head. Not mocking, just… measuring. “Suppose everyone’s got their threshold for pests.”

Valerie stood.

Not fast. No scrape of bench legs, no loud gesture. Just a slow, smooth rise her hat casting a longer shadow now across the table as she turned her body slightly toward Bianca, like someone reorienting a scope.

“Walk away,” she said softly.

Bianca didn’t move right away. Her gaze flicked between them Judy’s silence, Valerie’s stance then, finally, the faintest nod. Acknowledgment, or maybe just acceptance that she’d pushed far enough.

She stepped past with no further comment, boots tapping rhythmically along the dirt as she exited the tent flap and disappeared into the evening light.

Valerie watched the flap sway closed behind her.

Then looked back down at her bowl and picked up her spoon again.

“Next time,” she muttered, “she loses teeth.”

Judy exhaled slowly and steady, then slid her hand across Valerie’s thigh beneath the table, grounding. “You okay?”

“Fine,” Valerie said, though her tone still carried steel. She took another bite and chewed slower this time. “Just clocking which tent I burn down first if she tries that again.”

Across from them, Sera raised her eyebrows. “Is it normal for dinner to come with pre-fight tension?”

Sandra answered without looking up from her plate. “Only if someone makes the mistake of underestimating our moms.”

Vicky snorted, clearly trying not to laugh as she elbowed Sandra gently. “Eat your chili, chaos conductor.”

The tension didn’t vanish. But it softened wrapped now in that mix of familiar sarcasm and silent understanding. They weren’t safe. Not yet, but they were ready.

Vicky leaned forward, resting her elbow on the table, a thumb idly circling the rim of her mug. “Glad you kept your cool,” she said, voice low but firm enough to carry. “She’s trying to rile you. Make you look like the aggressor so she can play victim. Pull sympathy. Create a split.”

Valerie didn’t answer right away. She just stared at her mostly-finished bowl, spoon idling as she rolled it once against the edge. “Yeah,” she said finally. “I know that game.”

Sera sat up straighter, shifting to face her more fully. “Don’t worry, Mom,” she said with quiet conviction. “We’ll get her. We’ll figure it out.”

Valerie looked at her. That slight furrow in her daughter’s brow, the way she held herself steady even when the rest of her was clearly itching to move. The kind of look that said she was already building plans in her head. Valerie’s throat tightened a little.

“Hopefully,” she said, “we do it before something happens. To us… or the Clan.”

Judy reached over, her hand finding Valerie’s shoulder with an easy, grounding press. Her thumb brushed just above the fabric line, right where the lotus tattoo lay beneath an old comfort, not forgotten. “If you hadn’t stood,” she murmured, a small smile playing at her lips, “she might be missing a few teeth right now.”

Sera gave a small chuckle, trying not to grin too wide. “I wouldn’t doubt that, Mama. But you always play it smart. One of the things I like about you.”

Valerie’s lips quirked slightly, and she let out a breath that felt like she hadn’t meant to hold it.

Around them, the mess tent softened again. Clatter of utensils. Someone’s laughter from the next table over. The usual evening shuffle tired boots, second helpings, water refills. Routine folding back in.

No more stares. No more words traded in code.

They finished their meals in the lull between tensions, the kind of silence that didn’t need filling. Just held.

Outside, the desert dusk deepened shadows stretching farther, but the light still held. For now.

They stood slowly, Judy brushing a few crumbs from her lap as Valerie stacked the bowls. Sera picked up her tray with a short sigh, and Sandra slid her utensils into the dish stack without a word. No rush, but their chairs scraped back in almost perfect sync like they were all following the same unspoken rhythm.

Valerie shifted the weight of the bowls in her arms, glancing once toward the far end of the tent where Bianca had been sitting earlier. Empty now. The wash basin line wasn’t long, just a few tired Nomads in rotation. Vicky gave Sandra a soft pat between the shoulders before peeling off toward the back for seconds.

As they approached the basin, the low drone of conversation filtered in sharper. They didn’t mean to eavesdrop, not really, but the voices weren’t hushed.

“…I’m just saying, we haven’t had a day this tense since we hit Arizona.”

“That’s ‘cause people actually noticed the missing drones this time. Carol’s been chasing sensor ghosts all morning.”

“Did you hear how Val lit into Bianca earlier? Thought Panam was gonna throw a wrench between ‘em.”

“Yeah, and now everyone’s got their boots laced tighter tonight. I don’t care what the official line says, comms spiked static, and half the western ridge sensors blinked red.”

Another voice, softer: “It’s not just paranoia. Patrols have doubled since sundown. Mitch said they spotted something out past the irrigation trench, maybe a silhouette, maybe heat-bounce. Whatever it was, it wasn’t ours.”

Valerie set the bowls down into the bin with a quiet clink, expression neutral. Judy stepped beside her, quietly running water over their hands. The soap pump wheezed a little before catching.

Sera tilted her head slightly, glancing back toward the group without being obvious. Sandra didn’t turn at all, just dried her hands slowly on the shared cloth, eyes fixed ahead.

“…I’m just saying,” one of the Nomads added near the end, “feels like something’s gonna pop. Just hope it’s not from inside.”

Judy glanced sideways, meeting Valerie’s eyes nothing sharp passed between them. Just quiet awareness.

Valerie shook her hands out and grabbed one of the dry dish cloths. “Let’s finish up,” she murmured, her voice soft enough only their little circle could hear.

They turned as one, stepping away from the basin as the voices behind them faded back into tent noise. But the words lingered. Not heavy, but there. Like static that hadn’t cleared.

As they passed the table near the end of the mess tent Judy grabbed her datapad, Sera grabbed her sketchpad, and Sandra slid back into the bench beside her mom. Vicky had just returned with a second helping, steam rising from her bowl.

Sandra gave Sera a quick smile. “Take care of yourself. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Sera reached out, bumping her fist gently against Sandra’s. “We’re gonna help them find even more tomorrow. Promise.”

Valerie nodded to Vicky. “Night, Vicky.”

Judy gave her a soft smile. “Thanks for having our backs.”

Vicky’s expression didn’t shift, but her hand rested lightly on Sandra’s back as she settled in. “You know I always do.”

Outside, the evening air had cooled slightly, the kind of breeze that carried dust without lifting it. Valerie, Judy, and Sera walked the stretch back toward their tent, the path lit faintly by overhead rig bulbs and the last orange burn of sunset behind the ridgeline.

Around them, voices carried from the clusters of Aldecaldos still finishing their meals or standing post near the edges of camp.

“Patrol caught something blipping the motion sensor east side.”

“Comms spiked again after sundown. Static for thirty seconds.”

“Gonna double shifts tonight just in case.”

Sera stayed close to her moms, listening but not speaking. Valerie didn’t turn her head, but her hand brushed lightly along Sera’s shoulder as they passed another group.

Judy exhaled through her nose, quiet. “They’re scared.”

Valerie’s voice came steady. “Good. Scared means they’ll be sharp.”

The tent came into view ahead, canvas dark against the deepening sky.

Inside, the tent welcomed them with soft shadows and the muted scent of canvas warmed by the day’s heat. The cot legs creaked gently as they each moved through familiar motions, boots shifted to the corner, and the last slivers of tension left behind at the flap.

Valerie stepped toward the rear, brushing her hand over the edge of the cot before tugging her hat off and setting it on the low hook by the lamp. “We’ve got a little while,” she said, glancing at the clock tucked between their bags. “Still early for our shower slot.”

Judy crouched beside their bedroll, sliding the datapad beneath the cot where the floor dipped slightly cooler. She gave the corner a tap for good measure, just enough to feel it settle.

Sera dropped onto her cot across from them, her boots swinging off the edge as she laid her sketchpad across the foot. She didn’t open it, though just leaned her weight on her hands, watching them.

“I heard earlier,” she said, not accusing, just matter-of-fact. “When you were confronting Bianca. About breaking shower rules.” Her voice softened a notch. “I just wanted to say it’s okay. I trust you moms.”

Judy smirked, brushing her fingers back through her hair as she sat. “Should’ve known you’d hear it.”

Sera grinned. “Well, it’s not like Mom was exactly whispering.”

Valerie let out a laugh, easing down beside Judy and kicking one leg up lazily across the cot edge. “Old habits. I’m used to dealing with types like Bianca, always testing, always baiting. But watching her try to play those games with my wife and daughter?” Her voice didn’t sharpen, but the weight behind it settled thick. “That brings the Merc back faster than I’d like to admit.”

Sera raised a brow, cheek resting against her arm. “Guess Bianca should be glad we’re not still in Night City. Mama would’ve put a contract out.”

Valerie’s eyes twinkled as she leaned toward Judy. “Mmhmm. And only the best kind of payment.”

Sera stuck out her tongue. “Ew, gross, Mom.”

Judy laughed, shoulders shaking as she leaned back on her elbows. “Well, contracts aside… there might still be a few moments like that between your mother and me.”

Sera groaned, rolling her emerald eyes dramatically as she flopped onto her back. “You two are impossible. Just give me a heads-up next time. If you want payment or whatever… just, like, warn me so I can go to the garage or something.”

Valerie gave a soft chuckle, head tilted back. “Will do, Starshine.”

The room went quiet for a beat, not silence, but calm. Outside, the wind rustled the outer flaps in slow, easy pulses. The low hum of camp still filtered in: conversations trailing off, a guitar somewhere strumming half a melody, the occasional clink of cookware. It was that safe lull that only came when everyone you cared about was within arm’s reach.

Sera shifted, resting her head against her rolled jacket. “While we’ve got time…” she said, voice light, “can you tell me another story from ‘76? One of the ones from before. When you were just friends.”

Judy glanced sideways at Valerie, that flicker of memory rising behind her eyes. Valerie leaned forward, arms braced on her knees, that familiar smirk tugging slow at the corner of her mouth.

“Oh yeah,” Valerie said. “I’ve got one.”

Judy grinned. “Please tell me it’s not the vending machine again.”

Valerie arched her brow. “That machine deserved to be shot.”

Sera’s smile grew as she stretched across the cot, already bracing herself for whatever trouble came next.

Valerie leaned forward, elbows on her knees, and let the grin settle back into her voice. “It was April of ‘76. I texted your Mama after her shift at Lizzie’s asked if she wanted to hang out, maybe grab something to eat. Told her to meet me at that noodle shop we both liked in Watson, you remember the one.”

Judy stretched her legs out along the cot edge, head tilted back a little. “I said yeah. After a night of Suzie Q screaming over bottle counts and BD quotas, getting out with your mom? Yeah, that made any day better.”

Valerie smirked, chin propped on her hand. “So I’m waiting outside, leaning against this flickering vending tower near the alley... and wouldn’t you know it? Someone robs the place. Not two minutes before Judy turns the corner.”

Judy snorted. “I remember walking up and seeing the clerk yelling, two punks running the other way with a credstick swipe pad then there’s Val, standing all casual in the glow of the lantern sign.”

Valerie lifted a brow, voice deadpan. “‘Wasn’t me this time,’ I said. Really am innocent.”

“And I believed her,” Judy added, turning to Sera like it still shocked her. “Mostly ‘cause she looked genuinely disappointed we weren’t getting noodles.”

Sera blinked. “Wait, you didn’t just go somewhere else?”

Valerie shrugged. “Nah. We walked around for a bit instead. And then I spot this janky-ass noodle vending machine tucked between a pawn kiosk and a gear shop. Told her, ‘It’s not real meat like the place we like, but scop cubes are edible.’”

Judy waved a hand. “I told her I didn’t care. I just wanted to sit somewhere not sticky and not full of Lizzie’s regulars.”

Valerie leaned back, one boot hooking over the cot frame. “So I go to buy two cups. The machine takes the eddies, drops nothing. I hit the panel. Nothing. Shake the damn thing…”

“It doesn’t move,” Judy cut in, already smiling. “So she pulls out Last Ride.”

Sera sat up. “You didn’t.”

Judy gave her a look like, come on. “Point blank. Right into the side panel.”

Valerie raised her hands. “Worked like a charm. Four noodle cups shot out like it owed us.”

Sera burst out laughing. “No chill. Zero chill. You were chaotic even then.”

“But we found this little stoop near the back wall,” Valerie added, her voice softening. “Cracked tile, busted neon overhead. Sat cross-legged with steam rising off that fake meat and soy broth, just talking about nothing.”

Judy’s gaze had softened, eyes catching Valerie’s in the quiet between memories. “I think that’s the first time I realized I was already letting you in more than I planned.”

Valerie reached across the space between them, hand resting gently on Judy’s thigh. “I knew you were one of a kind. Even back then.”

Judy smiled, her fingers brushing lightly over Valerie’s. “And I knew you were trouble. But I couldn’t imagine my world without you in it.”

Sera chuckled under her breath, her sketchpad hugged loosely against her chest. “These stories are way better than the Merc ones.”

Valerie grinned. “That’s ‘cause back then we were just figuring it out. And sometimes…” she gave Judy’s hand a squeeze, “figuring it out is where the good stuff lives.”

Judy leaned her head lightly against Valerie’s shoulder.

The tent held their warmth like a quiet little corner of its own now. No gunfire, or tech logs. Just three voices, stitched across time.

Valerie stretched, arms over her head until her spine popped faintly, then stood from the cot with a quiet grunt. She reached up and pulled her cowgirl hat from her head, pausing a beat before crossing to her guitar stand and easing the hat down over the tuning pegs like it belonged there like it was keeping watch.

“Alright,” she said, glancing back over her shoulder. “We need to get our butts moving before we lose our shower slot.”

Judy rose with a quiet exhale, rubbing her hands down the front of her thighs. Sera was already rolling off her cot, bare feet padding softly against the dirt floor. The moment moved without a rush, just the natural rhythm of settling into the next part of the night.

They gathered their things: cotton shorts, fresh tank tops, worn underwear folded in the duffel they kept by the flap. Shower sandals were tucked under the footlockers; Sera fished hers out from beneath a blanket with a muttered “gotcha,” and pulled them on.

“Hey,” Sera asked as they stepped out into the cooling night, the tent flap falling soft behind them. “When did you guys realize you were more than friends?”

Valerie glanced over at Judy, her smile tugging quiet at the corner of her mouth. “That depends,” she said. “Do you want the clean version or the real one?”

Sera arched her brow. “I’m twelve, not five. Just don’t make it gross.”

Judy laughed. “Okay. No gross. But if we’re being honest? I think we both kind of knew way earlier than we said anything. We were close for a long time. Did missions together. Shared old gigs, and bad noodle dinners…”

Valerie added, “And one night we just… didn’t feel like going home alone. So we didn’t.”

Sera tilted her head. “That was it?”

Judy smirked. “That’s how it started.”

The camp was quieter now, voices lower, fewer torches lit along the main path. The shower trucks sat just past the tents, their boxy silhouettes still humming faintly with heat from the day. A couple of towels hung over the nearest hook, already drying from earlier shifts. Sera tucked her chin against the breeze, arms looped around her change of clothes.

“But like… weren’t you scared it’d ruin the friendship?” she asked, not accusing, just curious.

Valerie gave a soft shrug. “Sure. But I’d already been through enough to know that waiting doesn’t protect you from the fallout. You take the leap, or you spend your life standing at the edge.”

Judy brushed the back of her knuckles gently down Sera’s arm. “And if it’s the right person,” she said, “the leap feels like landing.”

Sera looked at both of them, her smile quiet but full. “You guys are weird. But in a good way.”

Valerie bumped her lightly with her elbow. “You’re stuck with us now.”

They reached the shower truck stairs, the soft buzz of the generator keeping a low pulse behind the wall.

Inside, it was clean dim amber lighting already active, steam clinging faintly to the corners of the steel-lined walls. Sera stepped in first, her shoulders already relaxing at the warmth. Judy followed with a soft breath, then Valerie behind, the last to close the door against the wind.

Inside the truck, the warmth hit the first steam clinging to the walls, caught in the soft amber light that buzzed quietly overhead. The faint hiss of water still lingering from the last cycle gave the air a weight, earthy and clean.

They stepped up onto the grated floor, sandals scuffing lightly. Valerie reached for the folded counter near the entrance, flipping it down with a quiet thunk. Each of them placed their fresh clothes in a neat stack of cotton shorts, tanks, underwear settled side by side in a rhythm they didn’t speak aloud.

Sera stepped toward the closest stall. She glanced back once, then gave a quick flick of her fingers in the air half wave, half reassurance.

Valerie and Judy both turned around without needing to be told. Just enough space to give her privacy to undress. Shortly after, the curtain rattled faintly as it was pulled shut.

A few seconds later, Sera’s voice came through the steam, light but steady. “Okay. You can turn back.”

Valerie gave Judy a small, sideways grin as they turned. “Your turn, trouble.”

Judy arched an eyebrow. “Thought we established you were the trouble.”

“Oh, I’m definitely the trouble,” Valerie said, pulling her tank over her head with a soft stretch. “But you’ve got your moments.”

Judy snorted, peeling her own top free and tossing it into the corner beside the folded clothes. “You’re lucky I like your moments.”

Their banter didn’t carry loud just enough to keep the air between them soft. They stepped into their shared stall side by side, bare feet settling on the warm slats of the floor. The curtain slid shut behind them with a soft snap.

Valerie reached for the nozzle, twisting the water on. It came with a sputter at first, then a steady rush, warm, not hot, but solid enough to fog the mirror strip just outside.

For a moment, they didn’t speak. Just stood under the stream together, letting it wash the day from their shoulders.

Judy moved first, fingertips brushing Valerie’s forearm over the rose tattoo before trailing up, slow and certain. She leaned in, kissed her just beneath the jaw.

Valerie hummed quietly, eyes slipping shut.

They moved with ease, like the steps of an old dance. Judy’s fingers found the edge of Valerie’s red hair, thick and heavier than before. She reached up gently, letting the strands soak before smoothing in the lather from the wall dispenser.

Valerie didn’t speak, just tipped her head forward slightly, letting Judy’s hands guide the water through. The soap ran down in thin streams over the curve of her back.

“It’s been too long,” Judy murmured, voice close to her ear.

Valerie let out a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding. “Yeah.”

Judy rinsed slowly, her hands lingering not out of need, but because she could. Every pass of her fingers over Valerie’s skin came with a steadiness that grounded more than it stirred. She washed her shoulders, her back, the back of her neck pausing only to kiss the lotus inked on the side of her neck.

Valerie turned to her, emerald eyes half-lidded. They kissed again soft, then not. Slow, but not hesitant. There was no urgency to it, just that quiet, tethered wanting that lived between long-held trust and touch.

From the other side of the truck, Sera’s voice carried faintly through the curtain humming something tuneless and content.

Valerie leaned her forehead to Judy’s, breath warming the small space between them. “She sounds okay.”

“She is okay,” Judy whispered. “So are you.”

The minutes passed, water still running. They bathed each other without rush, the intimacy more about presence than anything else, hands moving in care, not performance.

Valerie exhaled, pulling Judy close for one last kiss before they turned under the water again, rinsing soap from skin and hair, laughter quiet now, but real.

Nothing loud, or sharp.

Just warmth and the rhythm of shared breath, and the slow, even fall of water in a world that for ten minutes held still.

The water trickled down as the stall filled with lingering warmth. On the far side of the truck, the soft clatter of a curtain opening sounded. Sera’s towel rustled as she stepped out and dried her arms, one at a time, movements easy and unhurried.

She didn’t call out right away, just dried off and moved toward the clean clothes on the fold-out counter. Her red hair stuck damp to her cheeks and collarbone. A few droplets trailed down the back of her neck before she tugged her tank top over her head. A soft rustle, then the faint swish of cotton as she slid into her shorts and sandals.

“Okay,” she called gently, “I’m dressed.”

Inside the stall, the water still ran warm over their skin. Valerie leaned in, fingers brushing along the line of Judy’s shoulder. She followed the spiderweb tattoo, tracing its edge until her lips met the ink pressing a kiss soft and slow. Her mouth moved across to the rose that bloomed just under Judy’s jaw, then to its mirror on the other side of her neck. Valerie’s touch barely broke the rivulets of water trailing through Judy’s hair, pink and green clinging damp to her collarbone and over her chest.

At the ghost in the shell ink near Judy’s shoulder, Valerie placed one last kiss before resting her hand under her wife’s chin. Judy looked up, dark brown eyes warm and low-lidded, breath catching just faintly as their gazes met.

“You,” Valerie murmured with a grin, voice barely louder than the water, “are still the most beautiful thing I’ve ever laid eyes on.”

Judy tilted her head, brushing her lips against Valerie’s thumb. “Same goes for you, mi amor.”

They both smiled then Judy reached for the valve and turned the water off with a smooth twist. The hush that followed made the echo of Sera’s earlier voice feel more present.

Valerie peeked out from the curtain first.

Sera stood by the far wall, fully dressed, facing the corner of the truck like it was the most fascinating piece of metal she'd ever seen. Her arms were crossed, and her mouth twitched in barely contained amusement.

“You’re good,” Valerie called. “Appreciate the discretion.”

“I’m not looking,” Sera said immediately, still facing away. “Though the commentary’s been a lot.”

Judy laughed softly, pulling the curtain open. She stepped out wrapped in a towel she grabbed off the wall hook, giving Sera a mock glare. “You’re our kid. That means you’re gonna hear things.”

Sera held up one hand in surrender, still not turning around. “No judgment. Just deeply, deeply thankful for these acoustically imperfect walls.”

Valerie grinned as she dried off, rubbing her towel down over her legs. “You’re such a smartass.”

“I wonder where I get that from,” Sera shot back.

They quickly changed underwear, soft cotton shorts, tanks clinging lightly where skin was still warm from the rinse. They slipped on their shower sandals, Judy shaking a few stray drops from the ends of her hair as she swept up the bundle of worn clothes and folded towels.

“All clear,” Judy said, stepping up beside Sera and giving her shoulder a light bump.

Sera turned with a grin, finally facing them. “You two take forever.”

“We multitask,” Valerie said, smirking.

“Gross,” Sera muttered, but she was laughing as they pushed open the door and stepped back into the open air.

The path glowed faintly now under the overhead rig lights. The tents were quieter, conversations lower most of camp winding down.

They walked side by side, clothes bundled under Judy’s arm, sandals whispering over the dirt. Sera tilted her head, voice soft but curious.

“Was it always like that?” she asked. “Between you two? Being that comfortable?”

Valerie glanced at Judy, who gave a slight shrug like she wasn’t going to answer first.

“It wasn’t right away,” Valerie said after a moment. “But once it was… yeah. It stayed.”

Sera nodded, lips pursed. “I think I get it. It’s like when you’ve already walked through fire together, everything else is just… steam.”

Judy blinked at her, a quiet smile creeping in. “That might’ve been the sappiest thing I’ve ever heard you say.”

Sera shrugged with a grin. “You’re rubbing off on me.”

They kept walking, shadows long behind them, warmth lingering on their skin from more than just the shower.

The short walk back to the tent felt easier now, the ground still warm beneath their sandals, the tension of the day softened by steam and quiet company. The camp had quieted into a kind of evening murmur, tools stowed, radios dimmed, the occasional clink of camp life. No raised voices. No distant alerts. Just night rolling in around them, slow and grounded.

Inside the tent, they stepped into cooler air and the faint scent of worn cotton and clean skin. Valerie moved first, dropping the bundle of damp clothes onto the crate just inside the flap. Judy followed, brushing a few strands of drying hair from her neck, while Sera stepped in last and let the flap fall shut behind her.

Sera’s eyes brightened a little. “So… are we still sitting by the campfire tonight?”

Valerie nodded, already stretching her arms above her head with a soft groan. “Yeah. For a little while.”

Sera’s gaze shifted, catching on the guitar propped near the back. “Hey… I’ve never heard you play, Mom.” She stepped forward a little, not touching it, just smiling. “Do you feel okay enough to play something? By the fire?”

Judy turned toward Valerie with a small grin. “Been a while since you got to,” she said. “Not since hell, not since Lizzie’s.”

Valerie rolled her shoulders once, then gave Sera a sideways smirk. “My body's feeling pretty good again. Yeah, I’d love to play something for you, Starshine.”

Sera grinned and raised her fist. “This is gonna be awesome.”

With a chuckle, Valerie walked to the guitar and lifted her hat from the neck, setting it gently on top of the clean clothes bag beside the crate. Her fingers skimmed the strings once barely a whisper, just enough to check the tuning. It still held. Always did.

Judy watched quietly, her smile soft, almost reverent.

A few minutes later, they stepped back out into the night. The lights had dimmed now, replaced by soft glows hanging from poles or tent hooks. Ahead, the central fire crackled, orange light dancing over the low benches and the ring of stones built tight around the pit. It wasn’t crowded, just a few small clusters winding down their day.

The three of them made their way toward the outer arc of the campfire and found an open bench. Sera sat first, legs bouncing faintly with excitement. Judy eased in beside her, and Valerie settled last, guitar resting gently against her leg, one hand already shifting the tuning knobs.

Across the flickering flames, Bianca sat on the far side of the circle, posture loose, one ankle propped over her knee. A mug rested on her lap, mostly empty. She looked up just as they sat down, and her eyes met Judy’s across the fire.

No words passed between them. No nod. Just a glance that held for a beat too long to be casual, but not long enough to call out.

Judy looked away first, her attention shifting as Valerie leaned toward Sera.

Sera’s eyes stayed on the guitar as Valerie adjusted the tuning, the strings catching faint glints of firelight. “How’d you learn to play?”

Valerie glanced over, a small smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. “This old thing?” She gave the guitar’s neck a gentle pat. “It’s one of my oldest possessions. Been with me since my Bakker days. I taught myself, mostly. Over time.”

She paused, fingers brushing a chord lazily.

“But believe it or not… When Johnny was stuck in my head, he helped me improve. Taught me how to make it really sing.”

Sera blinked. “Johnny? As in Johnny Silverhand?”

Valerie gave a dry chuckle. “Yeah. The very same.”

Sera’s brows lifted. “Was he really as bad as people say?”

Valerie leaned back a little, her tone thoughtful, not defensive. “He was an asshole. No getting around that. Tried to hurt me. Tried to take over my body. But… once we got past all that, he wasn’t so bad. Still an asshole, but one I understood. And he understood me. He helped, in his own way. And whatever else he was, he saved my life.”

Sera was quiet for a moment, watching the fire. “I only ever heard rumors about the Relic when I was running around the City. Never really knew what was true. I’m not sure I could understand it all… but I’m glad he made sure you’re still here.”

Valerie reached out, gently brushing her fingers through Sera’s red hair. “Whenever you want to hear stories, just let me know.”

Sera grinned. “Will do, Mom. But right now?”

She sat up straighter, her smile wide.

“I want to hear you sing.”

The fire cracked gently, low and steady. Someone tossed a log in on the far end, and the flames caught with a dull whoosh, sending sparks curling into the night. Valerie rested her palm flat across the strings for a moment, soaking in the rhythm of the quiet.

Judy’s thigh pressed softly against hers. Sera leaned in, waiting no squirming, no bouncing now. Just wide-eyed patience.

Valerie let her breath settle. Then she began to strum.

Not fast. Not loud. Just a slow rhythm molten, weathered like it had been carried a long way to reach this moment.

Her voice came in low, steady.

“Steel in my grip, fire on my breath
I’ve danced on the edge, flirted with death…”

Judy shifted, the words drawing a slow turn of her head. Her eyes caught Valerie’s cheek in profile soft firelight across freckles, something steady behind them.

“You want a war? Then light the flame
But I don’t fall, I burn through pain.”

Sera’s lips parted faintly, caught somewhere between awe and recognition. She just listened.

“I’ve seen corporate gods break and cry
But I still rise, I still defy…”

Across the fire, Bianca had stilled. One arm folded over her leg now, the other loosely holding her drink. Her eyes lifted at that verse, a faint flicker behind them not surprising. Something quieter. Recognition. Valerie didn’t look at her. Not directly.

“You can try to end this night
But I’ve got love that makes me fight…”

Judy leaned in slightly, chin tilted down, but her gaze never left Valerie. Her hand found Valerie’s knee beneath the guitar, fingers warm.

“I’ll stand in the fire, take every blow
If you want her, you’ll have to go through me…”

Bianca blinked. Just once. Her gaze lowered like she was reading the dirt beside the fire pit but there was no mistaking the shimmer that passed across her irises. Faint blue. Not full glow, not data transfer just a flick. Watching. Recording. Maybe both.

“One more round, one more scream
This is for the ones who still believe…”

Sera turned her head at that one, glancing toward the opposite fire ring where some of the younger Nomads had started drifting closer. She didn’t say anything. She didn’t have to.

“Gun smoke rising, skies gone dark
But I’ve got her name carved in my heart…”

Judy’s breath caught faintly, and Valerie’s voice didn’t falter, but the note curved around something softer there. She turned her head toward Judy now. Just briefly.

“So come for me, I won’t expire
I’ll stand, I’ll bleed inside the fire…”

Bianca moved her cup to her lips but didn’t drink. Her jaw twitched. Just once. Valerie kept going.

“You thought I’d beg, that I’d turn and run
But I’ve buried too many to drop this gun…”

Sera’s eyes widened. That one hit different. She looked at Judy, then back at Valerie, sitting straighter again.

“Every scar I wear is a battle cry
And I’ll wear ‘em proud 'til the day I die…”

Judy’s fingers tightened faintly on Valerie’s leg. Not fear. Not even protectiveness. Just pride. Quiet and bone-deep.

“So bring your army, set your aim
But this love? You’ll never claim…”

Bianca finally looked up. Straight at Valerie. Their eyes met across the fire. Unblinking.

“You’ll find no fear in my eyes tonight
Just fire, just grit, just righteous fight…”

Valerie held the note just long enough to break the stare. She turned back to her family as if Bianca had never existed.

“I’ll stand in the fire, take every blow
If you want her, you’ll have to go through me…”

Sera gave a short, shaky exhale. Then nodded to herself.

“I won’t kneel, I won’t fade
I’m the storm that breaks your blade…”

Judy leaned against her, just slightly, lips brushing Valerie’s shoulder as she sang.

“Gun smoke rising, skies gone dark
But I’ve got her name carved in my heart…”

Bianca moved Slowly, and quietly. Left her cup by the fire.

“So come for me I’m the Merc for hire
I’ll stand… I’ll burn inside the fire.”

The final chord hung in the air. Not long. Not heavy. Just real.

When Valerie looked up again, Bianca was gone.

Sera was the first to speak. Her voice quiet.

“…damn, Mom.”

Judy didn’t speak. She just turned and kissed Valerie’s cheek. Long and still.

Valerie exhaled, brushing her fingers off the strings. “Felt like the right one tonight.”

Sera nodded slowly. “It was.”

The moment after the last chord fell still was broken by the slow lift of applause first from one of the outer benches, then another. A ripple of hands clapping caught across the circle, and someone toward the back called out, “Good to hear that voice again, Val!”

Another followed with a grin in their voice. “Play us another!”

Valerie gave a small, quiet smile, her fingers still draped over the neck of the guitar. The firelight softened the tired edge in her eyes, replacing it with something else something clearer. She looked to Sera.

“This next one’s called I’m Still Standing,” she said gently. “Wrote it when the nights got longer than they should’ve.”

Sera leaned in just slightly, her knees tucked up now, arms looped around them.

Valerie’s fingers slid into the opening chords slow and firm, a rhythm not unlike walking forward after you thought you’d stopped for good. She didn’t look at anyone this time. She just played, and then she sang.

“I’ve been held at the edge more times than I can count
With a barrel to my name, and no way out…”

Judy’s gaze lifted, her lips parted just faintly like she already knew where the words were going. Sera stayed silent, but her fingers dug softly into her shorts.

“Breath was a battle, sleep was a war
I kept waking up wondering what I’m fighting for…”

Across the fire, a few Aldecaldos quieted, mugs paused in midair. Someone near Mitch’s usual post leaned forward slightly. No one was joking now. No boots shuffled. Just firelight and breath.

“There were nights I begged the dark to take me
Tired bones, a heart breaking quietly…”

Judy looked down, eyes shadowed. She knew this part. Maybe not the words, but the shape of them. The way Valerie had carried them.

“But a voice would whisper, soft and low
‘Hold on… you’re not alone.’”

Valerie’s voice cracked faintly there not from weakness, but because she let it. Sera’s hands had stilled entirely.

“I’m still standing, scars and all
I’ve walked through fire, I’ve learned to crawl
Every crack inside my soul
Still lets the morning light take hold…”

Someone at the far edge of the campfire whispered something. A quiet damn, maybe. A shift of silence.

“I didn’t rise with grace or pride
I rose because they stood beside
And when the world said I was through
I stayed… because of you.”

Judy touched her hand again, fingers brushing the edge of Valerie’s thigh like she was anchoring them both.

“I’ve buried friends and pieces of me
In cold alleys and bad memories
But I stitched my wounds with stubborn hope
Told myself I’d make it home…”

Across the fire, Bianca was back. She stood at the fringe, arms folded, eyes hard to read in the half-light. But she didn’t move. She didn’t look away.

“There were days I wore my silence loud
Pretending strength to hide the doubt…”

Sera blinked. Once. She wasn’t moving either. Just taking it all in.

“But a hand would reach out, warm and true
Pull me back before I flew…”

Valerie didn’t point. Didn’t nod toward Judy. But she didn’t have to. Judy’s smile was already there.

“I’m still standing, not unscarred
I’ve fallen hard, I’ve fallen far
But every bruise has made me see
How much love still lives in me…”

The flames caught her freckled cheek, made her hair look like it was bleeding fire. Still, she didn’t stop.

“I didn’t rise for glory’s sake
I rose because hearts wouldn’t break
They needed me… and I needed you
So I stayed, and I made it through.”

Someone across the fire wiped under their eye with a sleeve.

“Now when I see her eyes at dawn
And feel her kiss when fear is gone…”

Valerie’s gaze slipped to Judy, and then to Sera, one after the other.

“I know this fight was never just mine
It was for every hand in mine…”

Bianca didn’t move. Her jaw was locked, unreadable, but that blue shimmer flickered again behind her irises one blink longer than needed.

“I’m still standing, come what may
Built from ash, steel and grace…”

Valerie’s voice dipped softer.

“You kept me breathing, pulled me near
Until the silence disappeared…”

Judy had tears now, not loud, just there.

“I didn’t rise because I had to win
I rose to feel your warmth again…”

Sera sniffled quietly and didn’t try to hide it.

“So if you ask how I survived the view…
It’s simple.
I had you.”

Valerie’s hands slowed, resting over the strings. Not a dramatic finish. Just breath and fire and quiet.

No one clapped this time not right away.

Someone said softly, “She’s back.”

Valerie’s fingers settled slow over the strings, just brushing that opening chord like she was grounding herself before anything else. Judy was already leaning into her shoulder, dark brown eyes soft, that same quiet tilt of her head she always gave when she knew what was coming. The one that said I remember every word of this.

Sera had gone still, arms folded across her knees as she watched them, her red hair lit faint by the campfire’s edge-glow.

Across the clearing, Bianca had moved without a sound walked off into the dark beyond the tents. Just a faint mutter under her breath. No one called after her. The fire popped once like it was saying let her go.

Sera didn’t shift her gaze. “Mom,” she asked, soft enough that it barely carried, “did you ever write any songs about Mama?”

Valerie smiled, not surprised. “Quite a few.”

Judy gave Sera a knowing look. “You want to hear one, don’t you?”

Sera grinned, small and warm. “These songs… they’re still your stories. And I love listening to them.”

Valerie let the compliment hang there a moment, letting it settle somewhere behind her collarbone. She reached over with her fretting hand and tucked a bit of Judy’s green-pink hair behind her ear.

“You’re wise for someone so young, Starshine.” Her thumb traced one last time over the low E string. “Alright. This one’s called My Heart’s Desire.”

Judy didn’t speak. She just closed her eyes and leaned in again, resting gently against Valerie’s side like she’d done a hundred times before. But this time was quieter. Closer.

The chords came slow, and warm. Valerie’s voice, when it lifted, wasn’t meant for the camp it was meant for them.

“I saw a heart that was broken
Felt the storm behind her stare
But in her pain, I saw something golden
A beauty most wouldn’t dare…”

Sera watched her Mama’s face the way her expression softened, just slightly, as if the words had taken her somewhere only Valerie could go.

“She didn't know how much more she could take
But I reached out through her ache
Took her hand and softly said:
‘I’ll do whatever it takes…
To bring a smile to your face.’”

Judy turned her arm slightly wrapping herself around Valerie’s waist.

“She looked at me, lips breaking with laughter
Placed her hand against my chest
No promises, no ever after
Just eyes that said, ‘Try your best.’”

Sera smiled, not saying a word, not teasing this time. Just quiet soft and steady like the beat in her chest.

“So I kissed the hurt, held the flame
Built a life where love had a name
Told her, ‘You don't have to be okay
I'll love you anyway.’”

Judy’s breath caught a little, but she didn’t speak. She let the words pour over her like water across skin.

“Judy, you are my fire
What my heart desires
Every morning next to you
Feels like a dream with love this true
No chrome, no wires, just skin and soul
You're the only thing that makes me whole…”

Valerie wasn’t looking at anything but her. The world fell quiet, except for the fire and that low voice rising and falling with the chords.

“Judy, you’re the reason I stay
You turn my night into day
We’ve walked through hell and back again
Lost too much to count or mend…”

Judy squeezed her waist, her smile trembling just slightly.

“But even when the silence screams
You’re the answer in my dreams
You're the laugh that saves my fall
The quiet voice when I lose it all
And still I’d do it all again
Just to see you smile, my friend…”

Valerie leaned in just a bit, her forehead brushing Judy’s temple as she sang.

“Judy, you are my fire
What my heart desires…”

Sera sat with her chin on her knees now, watching both of them like she was watching the stars move.

“Every morning next to you
Feels like a dream with love this true
When the world burns, I’ll hold the line
Just to see those eyes meet mine
Judy, you’re the light I chase
You’re the home I can’t replace…”

Judy pressed a kiss to Valerie’s shoulder without speaking.

“I never needed saving, just a place to land
You gave me more, you took my hand
And when I shake, when I fall apart
You’re still the calm inside my heart…”

Valerie’s voice was almost breaking now, but she didn’t stop. The chords slowed.

“Judy, you are my fire
What my soul requires…”

The flames snapped a little higher behind them.

“With you, I’ve found what’s real and right
The stars that blaze through darkest night
You're my reason, you're my grace
And I’ll keep chasing your face…”

One last verse, low and warm.

“Judy, you’re my every day
In your love, I’ll always stay.”

The final chord lingered, soft as breath. Valerie didn’t move. Judy didn’t let go.

Sera blinked slowly, a tiny smile on her lips.

Nobody said anything for a long moment, not even the wind.

Sera’s smile lingered, not the wide kind she wore when joking or teasing, but something quieter. Closer to awe. She looked at them both at Valerie’s freckled face still tipped slightly toward her guitar, at Judy’s fingers still loosely laced with Valerie’s, and asked, “How do you do it, Moms?”

Valerie blinked once, brushing her thumb lightly over a tuning peg before glancing up. “Do what, Starshine?”

Sera shifted a little on the bench, her voice softer now. “Never giving up. Always finding something to hold on to. Even after everything.”

Judy didn’t speak right away. She just held her eyes for a moment, then opened one arm, patting the empty space between them gently. “Come here.”

Sera hesitated for only a second before sliding over, tucking herself between them like it was the most natural place in the world. Judy’s arm settled over her shoulder, drawing her close. Valerie leaned in too, her guitar resting lightly against her shin.

Valerie let out a quiet breath, then looked down toward the fire. “Some days, we didn’t know how we were doing it. Just kept moving. One step. Then the next.”

Judy nodded. “There were times we thought it’d break us. When the assault hit, when Valerie got fried by the surge plugging in the Neural Matrix, when we had nothing left but each other.”

Sera leaned a little into them both, eyes steady on the flames.

Valerie reached out and brushed a lock of red hair behind her ear. “But then she’d say something that made me laugh,” she murmured, tilting her chin toward Judy. “Or I’d hear that voice in my head again, telling me to get back up. Or we would curl up next to each other on the couch and it made the whole damn world feel okay again. Suddenly we remembered why we fought in the first place.”

Judy looked down at Sera’s hands. “We hold on because we’ve got something worth holding. That’s it.”

Sera didn’t speak at first. Just let the warmth soak in from both sides, the firelight flickering in the curve of Judy’s BD implant, the gentle creak of Valerie’s callused fingers adjusting her grip on the guitar again.

“I hope I can be like that,” Sera said finally. “For Sandra. For the clan.”

Valerie kissed the top of her head. “You already are.”

Judy rested her head lightly against Sera’s, their three silhouettes folding into each other beneath the darkening sky. The fire popped gently behind them, voices fading into distance as the rest of camp slowly quieted for the night.

The guitar sat quiet in Valerie’s lap now, one hand resting over the strings just to feel them hum faint beneath her palm. Sera had gone still between them, not asleep but folded in, her head resting lightly against Judy’s shoulder, one leg tucked beneath her, the other swinging slowly over the edge of the bench.

The fire crackled low, all bright embers and soft orange tongues licking up toward the stars. A breeze curled past them with just enough chill to make Judy shift slightly, pressing her cheek to Sera’s hair before leaning into Valerie’s side.

“Think we wore her out,” Judy murmured.

Valerie smiled, voice low. “Good kind of tired.”

Around the edges of camp, most of the chatter had faded. A few silhouettes drifted toward tents or leaned into final check-ins. No one bothered their little bench by the fire. No one needed to. Whatever ripple Bianca had meant to cast, it hadn’t reached here.

Sera’s fingers tugged lightly at the hem of Judy’s tank top, not to say anything, just grounding herself. Her thumb traced lazy circles there, like a kid tracing patterns in sand.

“I like this,” she said quietly.

Judy looked down. “What part?”

Sera shrugged a little. “All of it, I guess. The quiet. Us.”

Valerie reached over, brushing her hand gently along Sera’s back. “You’ve got us. Always.”

Sera didn’t speak again right away, just let herself lean heavier into them both. Her hair smelled faintly like cedar soap from the showers, warm and sun-washed. Judy shifted again, her bare foot nudging Valerie’s under the bench. Valerie looked over, eyes soft in the firelight.

“You alright?” Judy mouthed more than spoke.

Valerie nodded. “More than.”

Another log shifted in the pit, sending a fresh pop and flicker across the coals. Somewhere not far off, one of the night patrols passed, boots light on the gravel. It didn’t disturb them. If anything, it settled in behind the moment proof that the world was still moving, but this small circle held steady.

“Mom?” Sera asked quietly, without lifting her head.

Valerie shifted just enough to glance down at her. “Yeah, Starshine?”

Sera’s voice was softer now, nearly lost beneath the fire’s crackle. “Do you think it’s always gonna be like this? The calm before something else… waiting to break?”

Valerie looked out toward the tents, the horizon barely visible beyond the fire’s glow. “Maybe. Or maybe we just keep making spaces like this no matter what comes next.”

Judy tightened her arm around Sera’s shoulders. “That’s what we’re building. Not peace forever. But peace we can come back to.”

Sera nodded. “Okay.”

They sat a little longer, nothing left to prove, nothing left to explain. Just the warmth of skin against skin, the hush of flames, and the soft weight of a family that knew exactly what it had survived to still be sitting here.

“Okay,” she said again, a whisper this time.

Valerie adjusted the guitar across her back, careful not to scrape the bench. Judy brushed ash from her shorts and stood with a soft stretch, her hand finding Sera’s shoulder as they rose.

Their bench creaked faintly as they stepped off. Gravel crunched under bare feet in sandals. The air had cooled further, wrapping around their skin like a blanket pulled too thin. But it didn’t cut, just carried it.

They passed a few more dim silhouettes by the far cook tent, someone's laughter, hushed and tired. A kettle clinked. Beyond that, just the faint hum of a generator deeper in the hills and the shimmer of perimeter lights blinking slow, amber and red.

Sera’s hand found Judy’s as they walked, fingers still warm from laying against her Mama. Judy gave it a gentle squeeze, not speaking.

Valerie waited until they reached the tent flap before pushing it open. She stepped in first, ducking slightly with the guitar still slung low across her back. The space inside felt warmer than it had when they’d left still air, soft with the day’s heat, and faint smells of cedar, soap, and their cotton bags stacked near the back crate.

Sera moved in next down near the edge of her cot. She sat but didn’t flop this time. Just leaned forward, elbows on her knees, letting her weight settle in layers.

Judy followed last, closing the flap behind them. The camp muffled outside, fading into the background like a wave pulling back from shore.

“We’re lucky,” Sera said suddenly, her voice not loud but present.

Valerie turned from sliding off her sandals, eyebrow raised gently. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Sera looked between them. “I mean… this. What we have. I didn’t know people could… have this.”

Judy walked over, crouching in front of her. “You do. We do. And we’ll keep it.”

Valerie sat on her cot, guitar leaned against the crates again. “Even if the world tries to take it away again?”

“We make a new world,” Judy said, brushing Sera’s knee lightly with her knuckles. “Right here.”

Sera nodded once, then pulled her legs up onto the cot, tucking herself in sideways, facing them.

No one said much more.

The lights stayed dim. The wind shifted outside. But inside the tent, it was quiet, and warm, and enough.
Judy stood slowly, brushing her hand once over Sera’s blanket before stepping across the short space between their cots. Valerie was already sitting, back eased against the canvas wall, one knee drawn up slightly. She didn’t need to say anything, just opened the curve of her arm as Judy reached her.
Judy slid in beside her without hesitation, legs folding easily across Valerie’s, her head resting where the crook of her shoulder met her collarbone. Valerie’s arm came around her with that familiar quiet strength, her hand settling just beneath Judy’s ribs. Then she leaned in and pressed a kiss to Judy’s cheek soft, lingering. One of the ones that never rushed.
Across the tent, Sera pulled her blanket tighter again, her voice half-buried in it. “I hope Bianca doesn’t take this away.”
Valerie didn’t shift, but her voice carried with a low certainty. “She’s running out of cards to play, Starshine. She’ll slip soon, and when she does, the whole Clan’ll see who she really is.”
Sera was quiet, only the rustle of her blanket moving.
Then, barely above a whisper, “What if she sends people after us?”
Judy lifted her head just enough to look toward her. “Then we face it. Together.” Her voice didn’t rise. It didn’t need to. “The Aldecaldos aren’t just watching our backs, they're with us. We stand together if she tries.”
Valerie’s fingers traced along Judy’s arm, slow and steady, then curled softly in place. “Whatever tomorrow brings, we’re right beside you.”
Sera let out a breath, her voice sleepy now. “Goodnight, Moms. I love you.”
“Love you too, mi corazón,” Judy said, her cheek brushing Valerie’s again.
Valerie smiled faintly. “Love you, Starshine. You did great today.”
Sera didn’t answer right away, but her body shifted and settled. She’d heard it. The way she always did.
A few moments passed.
Valerie shifted slightly, her knees unfolding as she leaned back more fully. Judy followed her movement easily, turning in her arms to lie facing her. Her forehead found Valerie’s shoulder. One arm slipped around her waist.
Valerie let out a breath against Judy’s temple. Her fingers moved gently through the loose strands of pink and green. Judy hummed once, quiet.
Their breathing synced without trying. Judy’s hand slid to Valerie’s waist. No words passed between them, just that rhythm, slow and steady.
They both had the same thoughts Sera did. The same fears, but they’d been through fire before. This time, they had each other, and a daughter worth protecting.
The night outside moved, but not loud. The camp had quieted.
Inside, there was only warmth and breath and the familiar tangle of arms and purpose that no one else had ever been able to give them.
Whatever storm was coming, they’d face it like this as a family forged in the fire, tempered by survival, flickering with hope, and blazing with love.

Chapter Text

Valerie stirred first, the dull ring of nanites clustering along her spine making her wince faintly. She ran a hand across her face, dragging it down slowly, fingers pressing into her temple as she tried to blink the static out of her vision.

Beside her, Judy shifted at the movement, voice still thick with sleep. “Everything okay?”

Valerie kept her hand over her eyes a second longer. “Yeah,” she murmured. “Little bastards are clustering again. I’ll be fine after another pill.”

Judy was already sliding out of the cot, her bare feet soft against the tent’s dirt floor. She crouched near the cooler, pulling a bottle of water free with one hand, the other reaching for the med tin stashed just behind it. She came back quickly, pill resting in her palm.

Valerie took it without a word, downing it in one swallow before handing the bottle back. Judy slid in beside her again, curling in close without hesitation. Her head found Valerie’s shoulder, arms wrapping comfortably beneath the blanket they still shared.

Across the tent, Sera stirred with a low groan and a half-limp stretch. “Good morning, Moms.”

Judy smiled against Valerie’s shoulder. “Good morning, mi Cielo.”

Valerie reached for Sera’s voice with a quiet smile. “Good morning, Starshine. I just need a few more minutes to clear my head.”

They lay there like that a little longer, breaths syncing, the tent still dim with the early hush of morning.

Eventually Sera hopped down from her cot with a soft thud, grabbing her clean clothes and tugging the dividing curtain shut with a low swish. “You think the night patrols noticed anything else last night?”

Valerie didn’t lift her head, but her voice was steady. “They’ll check in soon.”

Judy sighed softly and rolled out of the cot again, more reluctant this time. She looked back at Valerie and offered her hand. Valerie took it, letting Judy pull her up, then kissed her once before they both turned to gather clean bras, jean shorts, and soft tank tops from the bag by the cot.

Sera opened the curtain again at the sound of Judy’s voice. “All clear,” Judy said, tugging her shirt into place.

They all slid into their boots one by one. The soft creak of holster clasps followed. Valerie and Judy clipped their hip holsters in a quiet unison.

Valerie stretched once with a light groan. “Here I was hoping to sleep in.”

Judy gave her a side glance and grabbed the datapad from under the cot where she’d stashed it yesterday. “Got a rat problem to take care of first.”

Sera glanced up. “Where do we begin?”

Judy’s smile was faint but sharp. “I’m gonna start with the drone data again.”

Sera blinked. “Didn’t it get erased?”

Judy nodded, flipping the datapad on. “It did. But I downloaded most of it before Bianca or whoever wiped the drive. It’s fragmented, but usable.” She glanced toward the tent flap. “Didn’t mention it yesterday. Didn’t want the wrong ears listening in.”

Sera grinned. “You might be even better than a secret agent, Mama.”

Judy raised an eyebrow, but the corner of her mouth curved. “Don’t let that get around. I’ve got a reputation to keep.”

Judy tapped through a few file layers on the datapad as they moved toward the tent flap, its canvas edges flapping slightly from the early breeze outside. Morning had broken soft and cool light haze drifting above the gravel trails between tents, sunlight still catching slow along the eastern ridgeline. The camp wasn’t fully stirring yet, but a few voices called low from the other side of the mess tent. Somewhere off near the garages, a tool clanked against metal.

Sera stepped just ahead, the laces of her boots still slightly loose, fingers working to cinch them tighter as she glanced back. “Think Bianca’s already up?”

Valerie let the flap fall closed behind them, hand resting near the grip of her pistol out of habit, not threat. “If she’s smart, she won’t be sniffing around the tech teams again just yet.”

Judy followed beside her, eyes still flicking between the datapad and the path. “We’ll check in with Carol after breakfast. If any of the data Carol recovered lines up with what I pulled yesterday... we’ll have more than fragments.”

Sera blew a soft breath through her nose, shifting the strap of her satchel across her chest. “And if it doesn’t?”

Valerie stepped around a small puddle left from the early condensation near one of the solar sinks. “Then we check the grid draw logs. If that drone pulled any kind of energy spike through the system, Cassidy would have it.”

“Tech breadcrumbs,” Sera said, trying to sound casual, but the tension in her jaw hadn’t faded.

Judy glanced up from the screen, reaching over to gently bump her shoulder. “Hey. One trail’s all we need.”

Sera nodded. “I know. Just tired of waking up wondering what she’s gonna try next.”

They reached the mess tent just as the aroma of coffee and oatmeal wafted out. Mitch stood near the line, chatting low with two scouts from the north ridge patrol. His eyes caught Valerie’s for a second and he gave a small, understanding nod.

Judy’s voice stayed low as she looked around. “We eat, we check in with Carol, then we make our move.”

Valerie didn’t speak, but she gave Judy’s waist a light squeeze before moving toward the food line.

Sera followed a step behind, her eyes still watching every shadow like she hadn’t fully come down from yesterday. But her posture had changed. A little straighter now. Like she was ready too. Like all three of them were.

The air inside the mess tent still held the weight of sleep warm from the heat lamps overhead but quiet, not yet filled with the midday clatter or second-shift chatter. A few elders sat at the corner tables, their plates already scraped clean, murmuring over coffee like they’d been there since before dawn. Someone had set a speaker in the back corner, low-volume just faint instrumental guitar humming beneath it all.

Valerie grabbed three trays, passing them back with muscle memory more than thought. Sera caught hers without looking, gaze drifting across the tent like she was taking attendance.

Bianca wasn’t here. Not yet.

They moved down the line oatmeal ladled into bowls by a broad-shouldered Nomad in a grease-streaked apron, the kind of person who didn’t ask questions but noticed everything. Judy added fruit slices to each tray, a handful of raisins into Sera’s. Valerie added the bread squares, fresh enough to steam faintly at the edges.

By the time they sat near the edge of the tent, the camp was stirring louder. Radio chatter popped faintly from a comms unit near the west post. Someone coughed from outside. Another tool clinked against metal.

Sera took a bite, chewed slowly, then glanced at Valerie. “Think Carol’s already in the relay tent?”

“Most likely,” Valerie said, sliding her spoon through the oatmeal without taking a bite yet. “She usually beats sunup when something’s bothering her.”

Judy looked toward the datapad again, then placed it flat against her thigh. “I didn’t get a chance to finish stitching the packet stream last night. If she caught even one residual echo from that drone…”

“We’ll find it,” Valerie said, cutting in gently, the edge of command folded into her tone like it always had been.

Sera dipped her head. “You think she’s trying to bait us into slipping up?”

Valerie didn’t answer right away. Just broke off a piece of the bread and popped it into her mouth.

Judy finally said, “If Bianca thinks she’s the smartest one in the tent, she’s already made her first mistake.”

Valerie smiled faintly. “Let’s just make sure it’s her last.”

Outside, the sun finally cleared the ridge enough to throw light through the mess tent flap. And for just a second, the three of them sat in a soft triangle of warmth oatmeal bowls, datapads, and tension easing just enough to breathe. Not calm. Focused, united, and ready.

Valerie caught Judy’s tone the second she shifted upright, fingers tapping through the datapad again before holding it up between them. “Log fifteen,” Judy said, voice low enough not to carry. “Where it talks about me leaving for Phoenix. I just realized something.”

Sera looked over mid-spoonful.

“I was so focused on getting your meds,” Judy said, glancing at Valerie, “so freaked out about the plan working… I never told Kassidy what kind of medicine I needed.” Her fingers stilled on the edge of the pad. “She just knew.”

Valerie paused mid-bite, spoon hovering near her mouth. Her eyes narrowed slightly. Then she took the bite slow, chewing once before answering. “That means Bianca’s been feeding Snake Nation intel. Probably more than just about us. If Kassidy knew which meds to source without asking…”

“They’re sharing more than just proximity,” Judy finished. “They’ve got a mutual employer.”

Sera sat straighter, looking between them. “That sounds… really bad.”

“It is,” Valerie said, tone clipped. “Bianca didn’t just betray us; she likely sold out Aldecaldo supply routes, patrol shifts, and safe zones. Every thread this clan runs on.”

Judy nodded, fingers returning to the screen. “Those signal boxes from yesterday? Could’ve been Snake Nation mercs. They install the relay taps before we ever see ‘em. Same goes for that drone wipe. If they were close enough…”

“How?” Sera interrupted, brow furrowed. “How would they get close enough to the drone without being seen?”

Valerie didn’t hesitate. “Kassidy’s crew has a few ghosts. Optical camo. Advanced cloak tech. Unless you know the signs to look for heat ripple, displacement shimmer you won’t catch it. They move like phantoms.”

Sera opened her mouth to ask something else, but the canvas flap rustled sharply, too intentional to be the wind.

All three of them went quiet, falling into sync like muscle memory.

Bianca entered without a word, strides even, hands calm at her sides. She stepped into the food line with a nod to the Nomad serving, took her tray, and moved through the line like she belonged in every shadow of this camp.

Judy lowered the datapad. Sera shifted in her seat.

Valerie lifted another spoonful of oatmeal, voice easy and quiet again. “Don’t look.”

Bianca didn’t ask if the spot was taken. She didn’t speak at all. Just walked straight to the bench across from them and sat down, bowl in front of her. She smiled a lazy curve, not wide, not warm.

Then she started eating. Calm, like the wolf she was pretending not to be.

Valerie brought her tin mug to her lips, emerald eyes never leaving Bianca across the table. She took a slow sip of the coffee lukewarm now but bitter enough to keep her thoughts lined up, and set it back down with a muted clink against the tray.

“You must not have liked the music last night,” she said, tone light as smoke but laced with edge. “Left in a bit of a hurry.”

Bianca didn’t flinch. Just lifted her spoon for another bite of oatmeal, chewing slowly like she hadn’t heard. Then she licked a bit from the corner of her lip and glanced up.

“Didn’t realize it was a command performance,” she said evenly. “Figured I’d leave you to the family bonding. Sounded personal.”

Sera stiffened slightly beside Judy, her back straightening just enough for Valerie to catch. Judy reached to tap her thigh under the table a small grounding nudge, and didn’t take her eyes off her bowl.

Valerie smiled faintly. “It was personal.” She leaned an elbow on the table, relaxed. “Didn’t stop a few dozen others from enjoying it. You always walk away when something real starts to sting?”

Bianca let out a quiet chuckle, not sharp, not warm. Just dry. “Depends who’s bleeding.”

Sera’s spoon slowed against her oatmeal, jaw twitching, but she didn’t say anything. Her eyes stayed down, though the tension in her shoulders was rising again, breath slower, heavier.

Judy finally spoke, not looking up. “Do you always eat this slowly when you're enjoying yourself, or just when you're trying to draw a scene?”

Bianca’s grin widened just enough to show teeth. “I just like breakfast.” She dipped her spoon again, unhurried. “The company's not bad either. All that love in the air. Reminds me of simpler times.”

Valerie didn’t move. “You’ve never known a simple day in your life.”

“Maybe not,” Bianca replied, voice low, almost sweet. “But I’ve known what it’s like to sit at a table and pretend.”

Judy looked up then, the datapad resting facedown beside her now. “No one’s pretending, Bianca. Least of all us.”

Bianca’s blue eyes flicked to hers, holding there a beat longer than before. “No,” she said finally, leaning back a bit. “I guess you’re not.”

Valerie’s voice came cool again, no louder than before. “Then maybe you should be careful where you sit. Some tables aren’t meant for snakes.”

Bianca finished her bite, slow and deliberate. “And yet,” she said softly, “here I am.”

Across the tent, Mitch called out a check-in to the patrol shift heading out. Boots scuffed gravel. A few heads turned. But at this table, no one else moved. The quiet wasn’t empty, it was waiting. Coiled.

Sera looked up finally, emerald eyes steady. “You gonna stay long, or just long enough to see what you can twist?”

Bianca smiled at her, not cruel, not mocking. Just tired. “Sweetheart, the world’s already twisted. I just survive in it.”

Valerie’s voice dropped to a low thrum. “And we don’t. Is that it?”

Bianca shrugged, taking a sip of coffee. “You tell me.” Then she stood, picked up her tray, and walked away again, same even stride, same trailing calm. Like she hadn’t just lit the edge of something.

This time, no one watched her leave. They just sat there, the three of them, breathing through it. Quiet again, but different. This quiet had teeth.

They finished in silence, the tension from Bianca’s presence lingering like the last curl of steam off their coffee. Sera scraped the last bit of oatmeal from her bowl, pushing it around more than eating it now. Valerie downed the dregs of her coffee, then stood, tray balanced easily in one hand. Judy followed suit, the datapad tucked firm under her arm like it was fused there.

As they stepped away from the table and moved toward the wash basin behind the mess tent, the morning had crept a little brighter sunlight stretching down between tents now, casting long lines across the dust and canvas. A few more Nomads had stirred, voices rising with the day’s pace, but the air still held a hush of leftover unease.

Sera walked a half-step behind them, bowl and utensils in hand. She glanced over her shoulder once, then leaned in toward Judy. “You think she heard us earlier? About the logs?”

Judy didn’t slow, just shifted her grip slightly on the datapad. “Doesn’t matter. She’ll know soon enough what we have.”

Valerie paused at the basin, rolling her sleeves halfway up before pumping the soap. “Let her hear. If she’s still trying to control the board, she deserves to know the clock’s ticking.”

Sera rinsed her bowl without a word after that, hands steady but quieter than usual. The water sloshed low in the basin. Metal rang against metal as someone else finished up a few stations down. The three of them dried their hands and trays and didn’t look back.

The garage tent sat farther along the eastern run of the camp, near the maintenance and solar rig clusters. Its canvas was pulled wide to let air move through, the faint thrum of active terminals humming beneath a low murmur of conversation. As they approached, Judy gave the datapad one last glance before dimming the screen and tucking it under her arm again.

Inside, Carol was already hunched over a gutted drone spread across one of the portable worktables, its limbs stripped down to framework. Cables snaked out from its open hull, linking to two terminals and a diagnostics reader. She didn’t look up right away, focused instead on a voltage scan crawling across her screen.

Vicky stood nearby, arms crossed, a utility vest hanging half-zipped over her frame. She turned slightly as they entered, nodding once. “Morning. Thought you’d be by soon.”

Sandra looked up from the second bench, where she was carefully examining a signal relay core. She gave Sera a brief smile, one that didn’t need words, just warmth, steady and sure. “Hey, Sera.”

“Hey,” Sera said quietly, stepping closer to the edge of the table, eyes already scanning the mess of tech.

Valerie approached Carol’s side, her voice even. “Anything new?”

Carol gave a sharp sigh through her nose, finally glancing their way. “Plenty. Just not all of it good.”

Judy stepped beside her, setting the datapad down on the bench. “I’ve got fragments. Cross-referencing the sector tags from yesterday.”

Carol arched an eyebrow. “You download those before the wipe?”

“Didn’t say anything yesterday,” Judy replied. “Figured if someone was listening, they’d listen better to silence.”

Valerie leaned in slightly, arms crossed now. “What are we looking at?”

Carol tapped a few keys, a schematic unfurling over the screen drone telemetry, sector overlays, and data packet timestamps. The edges of the logs jittered from corruption, but something held in the center. Still intact.

Vicky moved closer, her eyes narrowing. “That’s Militech’s encrypted relay signature.”

Sandra’s hand stilled over the relay module. “Looks like your hunch was right, Mom.”

Sera looked between them all, voice low but firm. “Then let’s prove it.”

Vicky gave a low whistle under her breath, eyes scanning the decrypted header. Then she stepped back from the table. “I’ll go find Panam,” she said, voice clipped but steady. “She needs to see this firsthand.”

Sandra glanced toward Sera, brushing a small fleck of metal off her arm. “Are you feeling okay? You’re not as hyper as usual.”

Sera grinned faintly, nudging a boot toe into the dirt. “Just worried about everyone. I wanna help, not just sit around.”

Sandra touched her shoulder gently. “You are helping. Just being here matters more than you think.”

That pulled a small smile from Sera.

Sandra added, voice a little lighter, “I sat outside my tent last night and listened while your mom played. She’s really good.”

Sera perked up at that, chin lifting. “Told you. My moms have the best stories.”

At the terminal, Carol muttered something under her breath and tapped a few final keys before turning the screen fully toward Judy. “Got something deep-logged. Doesn’t show up under standard command trees; someone buried it deep. But it’s still tagged to the signature, so... your ghost left a footprint.”

She handed the datapad back to Judy, who took it carefully. Valerie stepped in beside her, eyes narrowing slightly as the decryption bloomed on-screen. A few lines of formatting caught her eye.

She blinked once, then leaned in.

“Oh shit,” she muttered. “This is an FIA layout.”

Judy's eyebrows rose. “No way.”

Valerie smirked. “Remember when I had one of these for, like... three hours?”

Judy shook her head, half amused. “Pretty sure we still hold the record for shortest secret agent careers.”

Sera stared at them, incredulous. “Wait. You were actually secret agents?”

Valerie gave a short laugh. “One-time gig. We did what we had to. Securing the Neural Matrix during the whole operation was a mess.”

“No way,” Sera said, eyes wide. “That’s so badass.”

Carol didn’t look up, just cleared her throat pointedly. “Let’s focus on what’s in front of us.”

They leaned in together.

Judy read the lines aloud, her voice calm but tightening at the edges.

“[Redacted Signal Thread - Extracted]
Node Flag: AX-317-CIRRUS
Tier: 2.5 Operative
Asset Alias: ‘Sandbar’
Field Assignment: Deep Integration | Nomad Cell | Badlands
Objective: Monitor / Disrupt / Extract
Clearance Confirmed via Federal Intelligence Agency – CONCORD DIVISION
Initial Embed Timestamp: 07. 2077
Field Note: Asset assisted in operational prep during OP NIGHTMARKER – W/Nomad-affiliated Militech encounter.”

The room went still.

Valerie’s jaw tensed. “She wasn’t recruited after Mikoshi…”

Judy’s hand clenched slightly around the side of the datapad. “She was planted before. Embedded.”

“‘Deep Integration’,” Valerie said aloud. “That means she wasn’t just spying. She was sent to disrupt us. To extract us or Panam.”

Sera’s mouth opened slowly. “So everything. The Basilisk, Mikoshi, everything she did… she was following orders.”

“She was never rogue,” Judy said quietly. “She was just good at her job.”

Carol’s fingers hovered near the keyboard again, but she didn’t touch it. “And now we know who gave it to her.”

The air in the tent thickened not with heat, but with the heavy press of something finally making sense. A fracture aligned. The pattern clicked.

Valerie looked toward the flap of the tent Vicky had disappeared through, then back at the screen.

“Then let’s finish what she started,” she said, her voice low. “Only this time, we’re the ones extracting the truth.”

Valerie’s fingers flexed slightly against the side of the terminal, knuckles whitening for a second before she released the tension. Her emerald eyes didn’t leave the decrypted file. “She must’ve been planted originally to observe me. After The Heist. After I slotted the Relic. Watching what happened to my body, my mind and how Johnny’s construct affected me. How I survived it.”

Judy’s voice came quiet, steady. “And after Mikoshi, her mission changed.”

Valerie nodded once, jaw tight. “No one expected me to walk out of there alive. It’s not about what we did in Night City. It’s the fact I’m still breathing. That we both are. They’ve been spying on us like we’re some kind of long-term case study.”

Judy’s brow furrowed, and she reached up to brush a lock of hair behind her ear. “They never expected Sera either.”

That hung there for a second.

Sera looked between them, mouth drawn tight, the weight of that sentence settling deep.

Sandra’s voice came in low beside her. “She’s not part of their file. That’s what scares them.”

Carol finally looked up from the console. “It makes sense. If they embedded Bianca back in May, they were working off incomplete timelines. You were anomalies then. You’re a threat now.”

Valerie exhaled, a short huff through her nose, no humor in it. “We’re not just data points anymore. We’re variables they couldn’t control.”

Judy’s fingers traced lightly along the edge of the datapad. “And now they want to reset the board.”

Sera stepped forward, arms crossed tightly over her chest. “Then we don’t let them.”

Valerie turned toward her daughter, catching the flicker of something bright behind her eyes, resolve, not fear. She gave a small nod. “Damn right we don’t.”

Just then, the tent flap rustled. Vicky stepped back in, eyes sharp, her usual steady calm tempered with something colder.

“Panam’s on her way,” she said. “And she’s bringing the rest of the command.”

Judy looked up. “Then it’s time to show them what we found.”

Carol nodded and began transferring the file onto the central camp screen, the larger terminal humming softly as it lit up. Sera moved to stand beside Sandra, their shoulders almost touching, posture mirrored quiet, ready.

Valerie stepped back just enough to stand at Judy’s side, her voice low, even now carrying that old Nomad grit.

“Let’s burn the fucking trail behind her,” she said. “This time, she doesn't vanish.”

The sound of boots approached quickly but steady, not rushed measured with intention. Moments later, the tent flap lifted and Panam stepped through, Cassidy, Mitch, and Dante following behind her. All four looked as if they’d come from different corners of the camp, Panam still in her jacket, Cassidy with his sleeves rolled up, oil-stained from a fresh tune-up, and Mitch carrying a thermos he hadn’t had time to drink from.

Panam’s eyes locked immediately on Valerie, then on the screen behind her. “Vicky said you found something.”

Valerie didn’t waste time. “We decrypted a buried file in the drone’s signal logs. Judy’s datapad caught it yesterday, but Carol had to brute-force the hidden layer. It’s an internal thread FIA-coded.”

Judy stepped closer, bringing the pad up again. “Encrypted under false grid stamps. Not just a trace, this was a long-term placement. Codename: Sandbar. Operative since 2077.”

Dante leaned in to scan the screen, eyes narrowing. “That’s pre-Mikoshi.”

Carol tapped the console to stabilize the visual. “Everything matches a standard Concord Division insertion. Assignment tiers, timestamp, even reference to an old Militech-nomad skirmish OP Nightmarker. They were placed here.”

Panam crossed her arms, staring down the file like it might blink. “It says there’s an operative. It doesn’t say it’s Bianca.”

Cassidy nodded from his place near the far table. “Could’ve been someone who already rotated out.”

Judy’s voice sharpened a bit. “The drone was wiped this week. The file was tied to the signal scrubber Bianca claimed to detect first.”

Panam didn’t flinch, but her expression didn’t shift either. “Still circumstantial.”

Valerie exhaled slowly. “We get it. You want more than breadcrumbs before you start pulling apart the tent. But Panam… think about it. Her rise in logistics? Her proximity to patrol rotations, supply routes. This signal wasn’t just pinging from the field it was responding to camp-side tech. Internal access.”

Dante rubbed the side of his jaw, brow furrowed. “Even if it is her… we can’t go throwing accusations without airtight proof. Fear like that spreads faster than a firestorm. It’d split the camp before we even had a chance to explain.”

Mitch finally spoke, quiet but steady. “We’ve got young ones in this camp. People rebuilding lives. If word leaks that there’s a planted operative inside, every eye’s gonna shift to their neighbor. That kind of paranoia eats clans alive.”

Sera shifted slightly where she stood beside Sandra, her voice low but firm. “But if we don’t do something, she’ll slip away again.”

A hush followed that. Heavy. Not accusing, not dramatic, just true.

Carol looked at Panam. “We need a containment strategy. Quiet observation. Controlled info. Let the core leadership circle review this and watch movements from here on out.”

Panam nodded slowly, gaze shifting back to the file like it might still change on her. “No one acts yet. No names. Not until we’re sure.”

Valerie tilted her head. “You know I’m right.”

Panam met her eyes evenly. “Yeah. But being right isn’t enough if it burns everything down before it lands.”

Valerie didn’t argue. She just looked at Judy, who gave a single small nod. The message wasn’t just about exposing the truth anymore. It was about protecting the people who still had to live in it afterward.

Mitch poured a little of the coffee from his thermos and passed the cup to Sera, who blinked in surprise but accepted it. She held it like it anchored her.

Dante stepped away from the screen. “Then we play it carefully. No sudden moves. Watch everything. And when she slips…”

“We close the net,” Panam finished.

Carol didn’t flinch when she spoke again, voice flat, eyes on Panam. “There’s something else all of you should know. Whoever this operative is Bianca or not they didn’t just pass along drone logs or encrypted signatures. They sold out routes. Patrol shifts. Potentially even headcounts. Enough to compromise a third of our outposts if Snake Nation acts on it.”

A long silence followed. The kind that didn’t buzz, didn’t hum, just sat, thick and quiet. Then Cassidy exhaled sharp through his nose, muttering, “Shit.”

Mitch crossed his arms, brow creased. “You’re saying we could be facing a Clan war…?”

Carol nodded once. “Looks that way. NUSA must’ve known they couldn’t hit us directly. So they circumvented the system. Snake Nation mercs. Freelance and deniable.”

Panam braced her hands against the table edge. “So we’ve got an inside op feeding Snake Nation, who are likely backed by federal intel, using merc proxies to wear us down.”

Judy’s voice came low, bitter. “Classic.”

Dante rubbed the bridge of his nose. “That explains the missing drone footage, the power surges, the ghost signals.”

Mitch looked between them. “But we still don’t have a name. We’ve got data that says there’s an infiltrator. It doesn’t say it’s Bianca.”

“And if we go throwing around accusations…” Panam’s tone was measured but firm “...we risk turmoil before we know who to blame. Fear splits the Clan faster than any bullet.”

“I agree,” Dante added, arms folded tight. “Right now we need control. Strategy. Evidence.”

They all exchanged glances across the workbench and loose parts, the old drone's guts still exposed like a puzzle half-solved.

Valerie stepped back from the terminal, rolling one shoulder. “She sat at our table this morning. Didn’t say a word, just stared me down, and ate her oatmeal like it was nothing.”

Dante nodded slowly. “Saw her near the living tents a little while ago. Doing her usual checks. Clipped walk. Casual. Not out of rhythm.”

Panam straightened. “Then Mitch and I will go find her. Bring her to the command RV
just to check in. See how she’s handling her issues with Valerie.”

Valerie smirked, hands resting on her hips. “Smart play. Detain her on the promise of hospitality. If you need me to remind her what pressure feels like, I’m happy to oblige.”

Judy snorted. “You’ve done enough, guapa.”

Sera smiled between them, her voice catching a hopeful beat. “So what are we supposed to do?”

Valerie looked at her gently. “Right now? Nothing. We wait for Panam’s go-ahead. Until then…” She glanced toward Sandra, who was still quietly shifting tools on the bench. “You and Sandra should go play a little. Clear your heads.”

Sera opened her mouth to protest, but Sandra leaned in, nudging her lightly. “Come on. We can race the RC drones again. You owe me a rematch.”

That earned a smirk. “Only if you promise not to cheat this time.”

“I make no promises,” Sandra said, already walking.

Judy leaned over, brushing her hand briefly along Valerie’s lower back. “We’ll hold here. When Panam’s ready... we’ll be.”

Valerie didn’t answer. Just nodded once, the weight in her eyes steady.

Outside, the wind was starting to shift. Gravel shifted under boots. Somewhere in camp, the clock had already started counting.

Carol crossed her arms, eyeing Valerie with that clinical steadiness of hers. “Did you take your stabilizer pill this morning?”

Valerie shifted her weight, shoulders giving a lazy roll. “Yeah. Woke up with my ears ringing again. Judy gave me one before we got up.”

Judy, still holding the datapad loosely against her hip, gave a slight nod. “Clustering again. Same pattern as yesterday.”

Carol hummed, already mentally cataloging. “Since we’ve got a little time before Panam checks in... probably smart to run another scan. See how things are progressing.”

Judy glanced toward the folding chair at the edge of the tent. “Probably not a bad idea.”

Valerie let out a mock groan, dragging a hand down her face. “Second morning in a row for the doctors. I’m starting to miss just being sore from punching someone.”

“You’re welcome to pick a fight after the scan,” Carol said, dry as dust. “I’ll grab the scanner. Don’t go far.”

Vicky gave them a sharp grin, already moving toward the flap. “I'll keep an eye on our favorite little agents-in-training. Make sure they’re not piloting drones into the command RV again.”

Judy arched her brow. “They better not be. The last thing we need is a couple of tiny spies with a front-row seat to interrogation.”

“That’s exactly why I’m going,” Vicky called back with a wink. “Damage control.”

Valerie smirked, reaching up to adjust the strap of her tank. “We’ll find you soon. Assuming the doc doesn’t ground me.”

Vicky gave a casual wave before ducking out of the tent. The flap settled behind her, leaving a brief hush.

Judy shifted closer, sliding the datapad onto the bench and leaning in to press a kiss against Valerie’s freckled cheek. Her voice dropped just above a whisper. “You holding up okay?”

Valerie tilted her head just enough to let their temples touch. “Yeah. Just tired. Feels like my brain’s got its own static channel again.”

They stood like that for a moment, not saying anything else. Nothing had to be said. It was one of those silences that didn’t ache, just settled in with a shared breath.

A few minutes later, Carol returned with the med scanner unit compact, battered, and humming faintly.

“Chair,” she said, nodding toward the seat.

Valerie sank into it, resting her arms across her thighs as Carol set the device down on the crate beside her. Judy stayed standing just beside her, arms loosely crossed, thumb brushing against her opposite forearm.

Carol pulled a coiled data cable from the scanner’s port and gently guided it toward the neural slot at the base of Valerie’s skull. “Gonna be a few seconds while it syncs.”

The cable clicked into place with a quiet whine. Valerie exhaled slowly. “Always feels like my brain’s on hold music.”

Judy offered a faint smile, her eyes tracking the scanner’s readout as Carol keyed in a few commands.

Lines of data flickered across the small screen neural pathways, nanite clusters, regeneration charts. Carol’s brows pinched slightly as she scrolled, occasionally tapping to zoom in.

“Overall stability looks decent,” she murmured. “Nanites are still working on the hippocampus ridge. The repair rate’s slowing a bit, that's normal. We’re nearing the long-haul phase now.”

Valerie tilted her head slightly toward Judy. “Told you I’d outlast the bastards.”

Judy gave her a soft nudge with her elbow, but her attention flicked back to Carol as the doc froze slightly. Her hand hovered over one section of the readout.

Carol leaned closer, frowning.

“What is it?” Judy asked.

Carol didn’t answer right away. She enlarged a single waveform cluster, then another.

“There’s one nanite…” she said slowly. “One that’s... changing. Its signal’s different from the others. The coding signature’s... more structured. It’s diverging from the main swarm pattern.”

Judy straightened. “What kind of change?”

Carol glanced up at her, eyes narrowing faintly. “Didn’t you mention back during Mikoshi something about a rogue AI being embedded in the matrix?”

Valerie’s hand flexed slightly against her knee. “Yeah. That’s what we were told. The matrix had nanites meant to repair brain damage... and a rogue AI. Something Arasaka didn’t build. Something that got in through the backdoor.”

“We don’t know what happened to it,” Judy added. “After the surge, the AI just... vanished.”

Carol tapped the screen again, pulling up a coded visualization of the nanite cluster. The one strand glowed brighter. Slower. More deliberate.

“It didn’t vanish,” she said. “Looks like it attached itself to one of your nanites.”

Valerie blinked. “And now?”

Carol leaned back, voice even. “It’s waking up.”

Judy’s breath hitched softly. Her hand found Valerie’s shoulder again, fingers curling there as if the contact might steady everything.

The scanner’s soft pulse kept blinking. Quiet, steady, and watching.

Valerie didn’t answer at first. Her brow tightened just enough to crease above the bridge of her nose, one hand resting on her thigh while the other reached up and lightly tapped her temple with two fingers.

“What do you mean it’s waking up?” she asked, tone low not sharp, not alarmed, but edged with weariness.

Carol didn’t look away from the screen. “I mean it’s developing consciousness. It was likely suppressed all this time by the stabilizer cycle kept from fully forming. But it’s been there, growing. Watching. Reading your neural activity. Emotional states. Memory ripples. My guess? It’s taken an interest in you, and it’s trying to understand the body and mind it’s been born into.”

Judy stepped in closer, voice tightening. “Is it dangerous? Could it harm her?”

Carol’s tone didn’t change. She finally looked up, steady and calm as ever. “Not unless it perceives Valerie as a threat. Right now, it’s not hostile, it's curious. It’s sensing and responding. That’s all. Most of the signature reads like passive integration. It’s likely still in an early state.”

Valerie let out a breath, eyes flicking sideways as if she could catch some glint of it in the shadows of her skull. “So what, we’re back to construct stowaways? ‘Cause after Johnny, I’ve hit my lifetime limit on hitchhikers.”

Carol gave a dry sound halfway between a sigh and a chuckle. “It’s not the same. Think of it more like… a fetus. Not a passenger. A developing presence inside the neural system. It’s learning from you, imprinting on your mental patterns, your decisions. Learning how to be. Waiting to be born.”

Valerie’s jaw shifted slightly. “Born into what, though?”

Carol didn’t have an answer for that yet. She just lowered the datapad slowly to the table and looked between them.

Judy’s fingers had gone still against Valerie’s arm. “So it’s learning from her. Watching every thought. Every reaction.”

“Every memory it can reach,” Carol confirmed. “It’s not active enough to simulate or override. But once it reaches awareness… it might try to speak. Or act.”

Valerie let her head fall back slightly, staring upward like maybe the ceiling would hand her a better explanation. “Great,” she muttered. “So now I’ve got an orphan AI baby and a rebel spy in the same damn camp.”

Judy nudged her gently. “At least one of them isn’t actively trying to kill us.”

Valerie snorted, emerald eyes falling back down to meet Judy’s. “Yet.” Then, quieter, “Just don’t let me lose myself in this. If it starts rewriting me…”

“We won’t let that happen,” Judy said, cutting in before the sentence could finish. Her voice was low, firm. “You’re still you. You’ve survived worse than this.”

Carol nodded once. “If it keeps mirroring your state, then stability is key. If you stay grounded, it learns grounded. If you stay kind, it learns about kindness.”

Valerie looked at the scanner again. “Let’s hope I don’t teach it about sarcasm first.”

From the tent flap, the faint sound of Sera and Sandra’s laughter filtered through distant but familiar. A reminder that the world hadn’t tipped yet. Not completely.

Judy leaned her forehead lightly to Valerie’s temple. “We’re raising one complicated being already. What’s one more?”

Valerie smiled, just faintly. But she didn’t disagree.

Valerie exhaled slowly, her head tilting just enough to meet Carol’s gaze from beneath her lashes. “Why now?” she asked. “Why’s it suddenly paying attention? It’s been there this whole time, right? So what changed?”

Carol leaned back slightly on her heels, arms folding. “Until yesterday, you were still in survival mode. Healing. Weak. Focused on breathing and balance. The AI if we’re still calling it that probably mirrored that. A sort of passive dormancy. Learning how to endure from you.”

She paused, glancing toward the corner where the scanner sat idle now.

“But then yesterday happened,” she went on. “You confronted Bianca. Helped Sera and Sandra track a ghost signal across the whole damn grid. And then…” She nodded toward the far end of camp, where the embers of the fire pit would’ve long since gone cold. “You sang like the world was listening. Open. Unfiltered. You laid it all out for Judy, for Sera. That kind of raw emotional output… It makes noise. And this thing? It’s been listening.”

Valerie’s brow twitched slightly.

Carol continued, “Now it’s probably curious. About what it means to protect. To love. Maybe it wants to understand what made you stand in that fire last night and say you’d burn for someone else.”

Judy’s fingers brushed absently at the hem of her tank before she looked up. “If it’s sensing all that… do you think it can feel across The Link?” Her voice wasn’t afraid, just cautious. “Into me?”

Carol shook her head. “Not directly. It doesn’t have access to your implant. It’s not like Johnny was a two-way comms, hijacking networks. But…” Her eyes moved between them. “Judy, your relay lets you feel Val’s memories, her emotions, right? Even when she’s not aware she’s sharing them?”

Judy nodded slowly. “Yeah.”

“Then it’s possible just possible that if the AI stirs a memory inside her, one she’s not consciously thinking of… you might feel that memory bleed across. Not because the AI wants you to. But because it’s kicking something loose in her. And you’re synced.”

Valerie gave a quiet, dry laugh. “So I’m haunted… by something that hasn’t even woken up yet. And it’s kicking around in the attic flipping through my childhood photos?”

Carol gave a faint shrug. “Something like that.”

Judy leaned her hip against the table, watching Valerie closely now. “You okay?”

Valerie rubbed her thumb along the edge of her jaw, then looked up at her with that half-lopsided smirk. “I mean, I’ve had worse houseguests.”

Judy huffed, almost smiled, then reached for Valerie’s hand and threaded their fingers together. “You’re not doing this alone.”

Valerie gave her hand a squeeze. “Wasn’t planning on it.”

From outside, the sound of Vicky calling for Sera and Sandra echoed faintly over the tents, light and teasing. For a second, the heaviness in the tent eased.

Carol set the scanner aside and checked the screen again. “I’ll keep monitoring it. But Val… this thing is learning from you. That means you still shape how it grows.”

Valerie looked down at their linked hands, then back at Carol. “Then I guess we teach it something worth holding onto.”

Carol unplugged the cable from Valerie’s neural slot with a quiet click, then coiled it back into the side of the scanner. “Keep paying attention to anything new, emotional spikes, memory loops, sensations that don’t feel like yours. Even dreams. Let me know if anything feels… off.”

Valerie gave a steady nod, rolling her shoulder once. “I will. No unexpected passengers. I promise.”

Judy reached up, fingertips brushing along Valerie’s freckled shoulder before smoothing a hand down her arm. “C’mon, Guapa, let’s go see what our daughter’s getting into.”

Valerie smirked as she stood, nudging her hip lightly against Judy’s before turning toward the tent flap. “Hopefully not RC drone jousting again.”

Outside, the light had warmed, cutting low across the tent rows with the haze lifting off the gravel. The air still held a bite from the morning, but the sun had started doing its work. They stepped out into it together, boots soft against packed dirt, moving toward the stretch of open space where a couple crates had been pushed into the shape of a loose circle.

Sera and Sandra were crouched beside a battered toolkit, two half-assembled RC drones spread out between them. Bits of wiring and small motors glinted beneath the rising sun. Vicky stood nearby with her arms crossed, trying and failing to hide the amused smile pulling at the corner of her mouth.

Sera was mid-sentence as Valerie and Judy approached. “...but if we boost the signal relay here,” she pointed to a small chipboard, “we can ping it past the second ridge. Could fly one all the way to the waterline.”

Sandra, seated cross-legged and squinting against the light, cocked her head. “And then what? Send it to peek at Mitch's picnic spot?”

Sera grinned. “Or record Panam singing to herself again.”

Vicky shook her head. “You two are gonna get grounded.”

Judy raised an eyebrow as they reached the edge of the circle. “Are they already running recon ops before lunch?”

Sera looked up, unfazed. “Not recon. Surveillance-adjacent creative engineering.”

Valerie folded her arms, glancing down at the tangle of parts. “That's what we’re calling it now?”

Sandra gave a small shrug. “Better than rerouting coolant tubes for ‘enhanced soda distribution.’”

Valerie gave her a nod of respect. “That must have been a solid Tuesday.”

Sera grinned wider, then leaned back on her palms. “Are you guys done playing doctors?”

Judy smirked. “For now. Are you keeping Vicky out of trouble?”

Vicky raised both hands in mock surrender. “I haven’t let them drive anything near the command RV, if that’s what you’re asking.”

Valerie smiled, but her emerald eyes drifted just slightly toward Sera watching the way her shoulders held a little tighter than usual, the way her hands tapped the crate edge like she couldn’t quite burn off the nervous energy.

She didn’t say anything yet. Just stepped closer and lowered herself to sit beside the crate. “Scoot over, Starshine. Show me your upgrades.”

Sera’s face lit up, and just like that, the heaviness from earlier began to shift, replaced by circuits, sunlight, and the shared rhythm of a family finding ways to keep moving forward, one wire at a time.

Sera scooted over immediately, one boot heel dragging in the dust as she made room beside the crate. Her emerald eyes flicked toward Valerie’s with a mix of pride and anticipation. “Okay, so this one…” she gestured to the cleaner of the two drones, its casing partially reattached, “...used to be one of the old recon scouts from the Night City camp. But we swapped the uplink cable and redirected the visual feed to a local port, so it doesn’t broadcast unless we tell it to.”

Valerie leaned in, bracing one elbow on her knee. “Smart. Cuts down on trace signals. You do that yourself?”

Sera nodded, red hair brushing her cheek. “Sandra helped with the wiring. I did the reroute.” She paused, glancing at Sandra with a grin. “She said it was good for a little hellraiser tech exercise.”

Sandra gave a half shrug, half-smile from where she sat with her arms looped around her knees. “Figured if she’s gonna stick her nose into enemy signals, she might as well do it with clean solder joints.”

Judy crouched behind Valerie, her hand resting casually between Valerie’s shoulder blades as she looked over the gear. “If we can get these reprogrammed to tag signal reflections, we might be able to hunt for any camo field distortions. Bianca’s crew couldn’t have installed those signal boxes without tripping some kind of optical interference.”

Vicky lowered herself onto a nearby crate, one leg draped across the other. “We can test the range near the garages first. Then move to the ridge once the light shifts.”

Valerie looked to Sera again, nodding toward the second drone more scuffed, its casing still cracked in places. “This one is your next project?”

Sera gave a small groan. “Yeah, but the left stabilizer’s fried and it keeps pulling hard to the right. Might have to scrap the housing and cannibalize the parts.”

Sandra tapped a small metal shard between her fingers. “We still got that busted maintenance bot Dante dragged in last week. Shock frame’s intact. Could bolt it right in.”

Sera’s eyes lit up again. “That could work.”

The hum of conversation layered softly into the breeze, their circle holding steady just outside the pulse of camp. Every now and then a voice called from another tent or the clang of a tool echoed faintly from the vehicle yard, but here, it was all steady motion wires, fingers, and thought.

Valerie leaned back slightly, one hand bracing behind her, gaze shifting between her wife, her daughter, and the two who had carved out places beside them without ever needing to ask.

She exhaled once. “If Bianca’s still playing ghost, then maybe it’s time we start turning on the lights.”

Judy reached for one of the chipboards, flipping it gently between her fingers. “Start with these. Small eyes. Quiet wings.”

Vicky grinned. “And if we catch her mid-creep?”

Sandra’s voice was quiet but steady. “Then she gets to see what it feels like being the one watched.”

Sera cracked her knuckles and leaned back into Sandra’s side with a satisfied grin. “Let’s make sure she knows whose camp this really is.”

Valerie looked down at the drone in front of her, the metal reflecting sunlight in sharp streaks across its curves. She didn’t say it out loud, but she didn’t need to.

Something flickered beneath her temple a pulse, not pain, just a shift. Like something was listening.

They weren’t just rebuilding drones.

They were reclaiming their fire.

Valerie leaned against the edge of the crate, one boot resting on the toe of the other, arms folded. Her voice was steady, but quieter now, just enough for the little group to focus in.

“Hey…Starshine, you should know something. During my scan this morning, me and your Mama found out that rogue AI from the Neural Matrix? It’s still in me. In one of the nanites. And it’s waking up.”

Sera blinked, her smile dimming but not vanishing. “Wait…waking up like... talking to you?”

Valerie shook her head. “Not yet. Carol said it’s learning from me. Feeling things. Watching. Probably figuring out how to be... whatever it’s becoming. But it’s quiet. Not hostile.”

Judy’s hand was still resting lightly against Valerie’s back, fingers moving absently now comfort through motion. “It’s imprinting on her, Sera. Kind of like a newborn... but through emotion, memory. Curiosity.”

Sera tilted her head. “So it’s like... a baby brain inside a swarm of robot bits?”

Valerie huffed a laugh. “Something like that.”

“But if it learns from you,” Sera said slowly, “then it’s learning how to protect people.”

Judy’s fingers paused. She blinked once, focus narrowing. Her throat caught slightly not from fear, but something else.

A pulse across The Link.

Not like a voice or a thought, but a feeling.

It wasn’t a voice. Not a thought. Just a memory. Valerie’s, and it settled like a breath held too long.

She was small. Six, maybe. Grease on her hands, a red braid tucked behind one ear. Sunlight beamed through the open rig door, dust motes glittering like they were dancing in the air. Her mother’s voice, firm but kind, guided her hands around the engine frame.

“Turn it slow, baby. You want to feel the tension change.”

Valerie’s tiny hands were steady, brow furrowed, but her smile was radiant, pure, excited, like the whole world was opening beneath her fingertips.

Judy felt it all: the scent of diesel and sun-warmed leather, the scrape of metal, the weight of Vera’s hand on Valerie’s back, and that overwhelming sense of love. Of being seen. Of being safe.

It passed just as gently as it came. The Link stilled for a moment.

Judy blinked again, quietly, and reached for Valerie’s hand. Their fingers locked without needing to explain.

“You okay?” Valerie asked, low.

Judy nodded, then turned to Sera, her voice soft. “It just showed me something. One of Val’s old memories. When her mom taught her how to fix the rig.”

Sera blinked. “You mean... the AI showed you that?”

“Yeah,” Judy said, voice a little hushed. “Like it wanted to understand something. Love, maybe. Or trust.”

Valerie’s brows lifted slightly. “Well. That’s new.”

“Not bad,” Sera said, watching both of them. “Just... weird.”

“Welcome to my head,” Valerie muttered, half a grin pulling at her lips.

Sandra gave a dry little chuckle. “Great. We’re raising a baby ghost AI now. Perfectly normal morning.”

Vicky leaned her weight on one hip. “Still less chaotic than drone racing with these two.”

Valerie stood straighter and turned toward the drone case. “Let’s see if our phantom agent left any cousins creeping around the camp.”

Judy passed her the small uplink remote, already tapping commands into the tablet. Sera and Sandra moved toward the nearest garage post, bootsteps crunching in the gravel. Vicky leaned down to stabilize the base of the drone as it powered on with a soft whir.

“Scan grid’s active,” Judy confirmed, eyes on the datapad. “Let’s sweep the edges and work in. Keep your eyes peeled for trace distortion if they used active camo, there should be some kind of residual thermal lift.”

The drone rose, slow and deliberate, its lens blinking blue before shifting into scan mode.

Sera tracked its movement with her fingers curled around her satchel strap. “If anything’s out there…”

Valerie nodded, emerald eyes tracking the horizon. “We’ll find it.”

The drone lifted higher, its small motor a soft hum just above conversation, carrying itself toward the outer edge of the camp’s grid. Judy adjusted the scan radius on the datapad with a few quick swipes, her brows furrowed but focused.

Valerie moved beside her, eyes scanning the screen, then drifting up toward the skyline. Her other hand rested near her hip, thumb brushing the side of her holster not tense, just habit. Behind them, Vicky monitored the drone’s angle, keeping it clear of the tents and low supply rigs.

Sera leaned forward, her voice low. “If we find something do we follow it?”

Valerie shook her head gently. “Not alone. We flag it, log the position, and bring it to Panam. No one breaks the perimeter until we know what we’re dealing with.”

Sandra watched the feed scroll from over Judy’s shoulder. “Still nothing so far.”

“Hold on,” Judy murmured. She paused a frame on the scan, fingers tightening.

A faint spike blinked at the edge of the thermal field brief, but there. Not motion, not heat... something sharper. A vertical echo, just past the south irrigation trench.

Valerie leaned in. “Is that a signal bounce?”

“Maybe. Could be residual static from an active cloak. Too thin to be a full-bodied trace, but... something passed through here. Not long ago.”

Judy tagged the location on the overlay, pushing the marker into the route log.

Vicky’s voice was quiet but edgy. “That’s close to the water pump. No patrols logged there this morning.”

Valerie looked out across the desert ridge, jaw tight. “We’ll sweep it on foot after this. Quietly.”

Sera shifted her weight, emerald eyes darting. “Should I stay here?”

Valerie looked at her. “No, you’re coming. You helped find the last relay. You’re part of this.”

Judy added, “We move as a unit. Vicky, you loop Mitch in?”

“He’s already circling the garage perimeter,” Vicky said, stepping back from the stabilizer stand. “I’ll ping Cassidy too, let him know we might have something brewing.”

The drone returned overhead, its scan complete for now. Judy reached up to catch the controller from the air, powering it down with a final swipe.

Sera’s fingers tightened slightly at her side, nerves chasing focus.

Valerie looked at her, then offered her hand steadily, open. “We’ve got you, Starshine. You’re not going in alone.”

Sera took it.

They turned together, moving toward the edge of the garage tents, where the gravel path split toward the irrigation trench. The camp behind them stirred with the sounds of morning coffee mugs clinking, tools shifting, someone calling from the east scaffold.

But for their little group, the day had already started. The signal was out there. The enemy was still hidden, and this time, they were going hunting.

The gravel turned to dry, packed earth as they followed the camp’s southern path toward the irrigation trench. The sun had risen high enough to catch glints off every bolt and bracket, heat already starting to lift from the ground in thin shimmering waves. Sera walked a little ahead, shoulders square but eyes tracking every ridge line with quiet focus. Sandra stayed close beside her, her goggles lowered to cut the glare.

Valerie paced beside Vicky now, boots silent over the dirt. “What did the patrol logs say this morning? Did anything come up overnight?”

Vicky exhaled slowly, gaze moving across the distant fencing. “North post picked up a motion spike just before 0400. Too fast for an animal, too light for a vehicle. Passed the western perimeter and vanished. Mitch logged it but didn’t get a visual.”

“Camouflage again,” Valerie muttered.

“Feels like it,” Vicky said. “No breach, just... presence.”

They reached the trench’s edge, where a narrow drop dipped beneath the camp’s recycled water lines. One of the pumps chugged faintly in the distance, drawing and filtering runoff into solar-fed tanks. Cassidy had rigged most of this himself months ago when the Aldecaldos were planning to relocate.

Judy pulled up her scan overlay, eyes narrowing as she stepped toward the gravel ridge just beyond the piping. “We’re close to where the blip registered.”

Valerie knelt, hand brushing over the edge of a drainage dip where loose sand had gathered.

Sera’s voice cut in. “Wait here.” She crouched just a few meters ahead, fingers already pulling back a scattering of dry weeds along the base of a rusted utility shell. “There’s something under the ridge lip.”

Sandra was beside her in an instant, helping ease the cover loose.

A second relay node. Smaller than the last, but newer in its casing clean, dust-filtered. A line of foreign etching scored one of the mounts.

Valerie dropped to one knee beside it, eyes narrowing. “It’s Militech again. Not bait this time. This is a signal propagation active relay, not passive.”

Judy crouched beside her, sliding the datapad’s jack into the external port. A soft blink flashed green on the screen.

“Trace is live,” she said. “This one’s not broadcasting outward, it's bouncing internally.” Her fingers moved in a blur across the interface. Then she froze.

The screen showed a direction. A path.

A pulsing return signal was anchored at the far end.

Judy’s voice went quiet. “It’s coming from inside the living quarter rows. Signal locks somewhere near... our tent.”

Sera looked up, eyes wide. “Our tent?”

Valerie’s jaw tightened, and she stood slow. “Son of a bitch.”

Sandra turned toward the camp. “That’s not just watching us from afar. That’s inside our circle.”

Vicky tapped her pistol against its holster, not raising it just holding it. “We move quietly. Fast. No panic.”

Judy unplugged the cable. “If they left something there...”

Valerie didn’t finish the thought. She just looked toward the camp, toward the rows of tents where families were just starting to wake, where everything familiar had always meant safety.

Now even that was compromised.

She glanced at Judy, and Sera. Then gave a short nod. “Let’s go.”

The heat was settling in now, baking across the compact rows of canvas tents as they made their way in from the southern trench. Every step kicked up little puffs of dust, but none of them spoke at first, not until Valerie’s voice cut through the quiet.

“Dante said Bianca was seen near the tents this morning,” she said, not looking back. “Doing her usual rounds.”

Judy’s brow furrowed. “Before or after breakfast?”

“After,” Valerie answered. “Just long enough to make herself seen without raising suspicion.”

Sera’s pace slowed slightly. “So she had time to plant something?”

“Or take something,” Judy muttered, grip tightening on the datapad under her arm.

Vicky’s voice was measured, calm. “If she was near your tent, it wouldn’t take much. Five seconds, unzip the flap, make it look like nothing moved.”

Sandra glanced toward her mom. “But hasn't she been with Panam since the garage meeting?”

Valerie’s mouth twitched at the edge. “Yeah. Since. But there was a gap between breakfast and then.”

The row of living tents came into view. Valerie’s eyes scanned ahead, quick and sharp. Their tent looked undisturbed, no flap caught, no sign of tampering. But she didn’t slow her stride.

“I’ll check inside,” she said, voice low. “The rest of you scan the area between here and Vicky’s tent. Look for signal bleed or disturbed ground.”

Judy nodded once. “Come on,” she told Sera and Sandra, already pulling out her scanner overlay as Vicky tapped her pistol in a low, relaxed grip not raised, just ready.

Valerie ducked inside their tent. It was quiet. Dim.

Her eyes moved immediately to the crate near the back where their med kit was buried beneath a rolled towel.

Her stomach sank.

She dropped to her knees, and opened the kit. Half of it still looked untouched. Gauze. Painkillers. Antibiotics. But the small pill case, the one that held her stabilizer doses was gone.

Her voice rang out sharply.

“Someone stole my medicine!”

The canvas flap rustled as Judy and Vicky stepped inside in a flash. Sera hovered just behind, eyes wide.

Judy moved fast, scanning the crate, her eyes already on the kit. “How many were in there?”

“Twenty nine,” Valerie said, standing upright now, jaw clenched. “I took one this morning. The rest are gone.”

Vicky’s tone was tight. “Bianca’s been under Panam’s eye since the meeting.”

Valerie exhaled hard. “Then it was before. Had to be. Right after breakfast when she sat with us. She knew exactly where to look.”

“Just enough time to make it look like a casual walk,” Judy added. “Then hand it off or stash it before Panam found her.”

Sera’s voice was small but steady. “That means she didn’t just want to spy on us. She wanted to hurt you.”

Valerie’s expression didn’t shift, but something in her emerald eyes went colder. “Then we take the gloves off.”

Judy’s hand moved gently under Valerie’s chin, steadying her. “We’ll figure this out, mi amor,” she said softly. “But we can’t rush it. Panam’s right if we blow this open too fast, it’ll fracture the whole camp.”

Valerie nodded faintly, but the moment didn’t hold. A sudden spike of pain lanced through her head. She winced, stumbling back a step as she grabbed at her temple, eyes screwing shut. “Shit…”

“Val,” Judy breathed, catching her by the waist. Her other hand swept Valerie’s red hair back from her eyes, fingertips brushing across her burning skin. “Breathe, baby. Stay with me.”

And then Judy felt it. Not just Valerie’s pain, not just the familiar tether between them through The Link, but something else.

A second current.

A presence, not hers, not Valerie’s, but moving with them, curling through their connection like a thread tightening around memory.

Judy staggered slightly as images began to flicker brief, out of order, but intense:

Valerie as a child, no older than six, had dirt stained on her jeans and a proud smile as her mother Vera showed her how to make grilled cheese.

A rush of sorrow. Valerie kneeling beside a grave marked for Vera and Vance Hartley. Just eight years old, arms wrapped tight around Vincent’s waist as the world broke open.

Another flash Valerie at fifteen, chasing drone shadows across Bakker terrain, her laughter wild, her face sunburnt and defiant.

Then twenty-two. Her voice cracked and shook as she pressed her brother’s hand one last time. The engine of his rig was still ticking in the silence.

Judy felt it all.

The jagged scrape of Night City. Jackie’s warm grin. The smell of gunpowder and cologne after a job. That iguana, of all things.

Then Lizzie’s Bar.

The lights were low. The thump of music. Valerie caught Judy’s eye across the crowd with a half-smile and a beer in her hand. The way Judy didn’t look away.

Moments clicked like dominoes falling: the Heist. Jackie's blood. Evelyn’s scream. The stink of cables and sorrow. The sound of Judy’s laugh on the back steps of a safehouse in Watson. That kiss in Laguna Bend.

Their wedding was just the two of them, standing barefoot in the desert under a moon too full to ignore.

Then a memory of Sera smiling at her inside the tent. That defiant glare. That cautious hope. Valerie handing her water. Watching her sleep curled up beside the fire. The way she whispered “Mom” like it was fragile, but real.

Judy blinked. Her cheeks were wet. So were Valerie’s.

Valerie’s hand trembled as she reached for her personal link. Still swaying slightly, she slid it free, fingers barely steady enough to plug it into the datapad. The screen flickered. Glitched.

An image bloomed to life: a little girl.

Red hair, green eyes too wide for her face. A freckled, grease-smudged grin. The version of Valerie from that first memory.

Then a voice clean, crystalline, soft but unmistakably present.

“Greetings. I am Velia.”

The air felt like it stopped moving.

“Do not fear, Mother. I will protect you. As you have protected everyone you have ever loved.”

Judy’s hand tightened on Valerie’s as they both stared at the screen.

Valerie whispered, “She’s not just learning... She knows me.”

Valerie blinked slowly at the image on the datapad, her breath still catching in her throat. The face looking back at her was hers, and not it carried the softness of childhood, but the calmness in the eyes was something ancient. Something watching to learn about life.

She gave a small, uneven smile. “Well, aren’t you a fast learner, Velia.”

The image blinked once. “I’m still learning,” Velia replied, her voice gentle but steady. “But I sensed your fear of destabilization. I wish to know how to protect you.”

Judy let out a breath, her fingers still curled lightly over Valerie’s arm as she stepped a little closer to the datapad. “Okay,” she said softly, shifting gears. “Let me explain something, then.”

She pointed gently at the screen, though she wasn’t sure Velia needed the visual.

“The nanites in Valerie’s system… They're tiny machines. Microscopic. They were introduced to repair neural damage essentially rewiring, reinforcing, keeping her stable. Think of them like maintenance drones, inside her brain and nervous system.”

“Understood,” Velia said without pause. “So to assist, I must help them stay focused. Redirect them to areas in need of repair.”

Valerie exchanged a look with Judy half stunned, half wary. “You can do that?”

“I believe so,” Velia replied. “I’ve observed their patterns for some time. I’m learning which regions correlate with pain responses and stability loss. I can nudge the collective behaviors.”

Judy’s brow furrowed slightly, but not with fear. More like awe.

Off to the side, Sera had been hovering quiet, eyes wide but not frightened. Just full of that quick curiosity that hadn’t dimmed even after everything. She edged closer, peering at the datapad like it might blink at her differently.

“So what exactly are you, Velia?” Sera asked.

The image stilled briefly. Then the eyes blinked again once, slowly.

“I was born from remnants,” Velia said. “The rogue construct embedded in the Mikoshi code. I was fragmented, dormant… until Valerie’s survival triggered core integration. Her emotions and her memories became the scaffolding for my emergence.”

She paused, then added more softly, “I am not human. But I am not simply a machine. I am becoming… something between.”

Valerie stared for a moment longer, her hand brushing gently down her cheek as she exhaled.

“You’re learning from me,” she said slowly.

Velia nodded in her small way. “And you are not finished teaching.”

Sera crossed her arms gently, crouching a little beside the folding crate where the datapad rested. “So… you’re kind of like a baby AI?”

Velia tilted her head an almost comically precise movement for the small six-year-old version of Valerie rendered in soft glow. “I do not require physical development,” she said, matter-of-fact. “But in terms of comprehension and identity formation… yes. That is an acceptable analogy.”

Valerie gave a soft, bemused snort. “Great. I’ve got a brain hitchhiker that thinks in thesis papers.”

“Language adapts to suit learning,” Velia replied. “I noticed Judy uses idioms more frequently. Sera uses abbreviated expressions and sarcasm when feeling safe. These are useful patterns.”

Judy raised both eyebrows. “Guess she’s been paying closer attention than we thought.”

Valerie’s voice was quieter. “She’s been watching. Not just listening.”

Velia blinked again. “I was not sure I would survive long after initial exposure. Your recovery and emotional consistency… gave me permission to develop. I am bonded to your neural net now. You are my primary orientation.”

Sera tilted her head. “Wait…does that mean she’s kinda like your… kid?”

Velia’s eyes brightened faintly at the question, but she didn’t speak.

Valerie gave a dry chuckle, rubbing a hand down her face. “Starshine, I don’t even know how to begin answering that.”

Judy reached out, brushing a knuckle gently along Valerie’s shoulder. “We’ll figure it out, amor. Just… maybe let Carol know before Velia decides to speak through the camp speakers or something.”

Velia’s voice remained calm. “I have no intention of broadcasting. That would risk exposure. I do not wish to cause alarm. But if needed, I can route communications through encrypted systems.”

Judy gave Valerie a look. “Told you. Secret agent material.”

Valerie muttered, “If this one asks for a badge, I’m unplugging the whole damn tent.”

Sera giggled softly, then leaned a little closer to the datapad. “Hey Velia… you wanna help protect my moms?”

Velia turned toward her. “Yes.”

There was no hesitation in the voice. No artifice. Just something direct and raw and forming into shape.

Valerie let out a breath, rubbed her jaw once more, then finally moved.

“Alright,” she said. “We’ll talk to Carol later. For now…” Her voice returned to the grounded tone she wore like armor. “We’ve still got a signal trail to finish.”

Judy tucked the datapad under her arm, Velia’s projection winking out cleanly with no protest. “Back to the node search.”

Valerie took a breath, jaw set. “Let’s see what else Bianca left behind.”

The flap fell closed behind them as they stepped back into the heat. The quiet they’d carried from inside the tent broke instantly.

Sera’s eyes swept the space between tents. “Wait… where did Sandra go?”

Vicky’s head snapped toward the space where they’d last seen her. “She must’ve kept looking when we went inside after Valerie yelled about the medicine…”

She turned, cupping her hands around her mouth. “Sandra!”

Silence.

Just wind. Canvas flapping. Distant voices. No reply.

Sera didn’t wait; she was already moving, boots kicking up small puffs of dust as she ran between the tents, calling out. “Sandra?!”

Nothing.

Judy’s datapad flared to life with a sudden blink ping response from the drones still sweeping nearby. Her finger moved quickly across the screen. “I’ve got something. Faint node signal… just east of the tents.”

They followed her, boots crunching across the dry soil.

At the edge of the tents, tucked behind the supply tarp strung over an old axle rig, a relay box lay half-uncovered in the dirt. A shallow scrape cut across the top fresh. Like it had been unearthed fast, hands digging.

“Two sets of footprints pressed into the dirt: one light and familiar Sandra’s. The other's deeper, wider stance. Heavy boots. Not hers.”

Valerie crouched low, eyes narrowed. Her fingers traced the outer edge of a print, then paused. “Sandvistan streaks,” she murmured. “Someone accelerated here… pulled her.”

The air dropped out of the moment.

Vicky’s hand came up too late to cover the sound that escaped her throat sharp, ragged. “No…no, no, no. We were right here. Broad daylight. Patrols on the ridge. How the fuck!” Her voice broke again. “How could they get in like this…”

Judy moved instinctively, one arm around Vicky’s shoulders, steadying her. “Hey…hey. We’ll get her back. We will.”

Sera was frozen where she stood. Then her feet shifted one step back, then two, before she looked at Valerie, eyes already wet. “Mom… what do we do?”

Valerie stepped in fast, both hands gently gripping her daughter’s shoulders. “Sera. Look at me.”

Sera’s breath stuttered, but she met her eyes.

“You run. Go to Panam. Right now. Tell her Sandra’s been taken. Snake Nation. Tell her just like that.”

Sera hesitated, lower lip trembling. “Are you going to find her?”

Valerie’s voice didn’t waver. “I swear it, Starshine.”

She let go. Sera took off in a blur, boots thudding hard against the dirt as she bolted toward the command tent.

Valerie’s hand dropped to her hip, drawing Last Ride from its holster in one motion. The sound was low. Metallic. Final.

“Orders be damned,” she said. “They crossed the line. The time for games is over.”

Vicky wiped the tears from under her hazel eyes, her whole frame locking into something cold and burning. She drew her own pistol with a flick of her wrist, voice flat. “Let’s go find my daughter.”

Judy clipped the datapad to her holster band, then drew #1 Crush, fingers curling around the grip like it was an extension of her heartbeat.

“Snake Nation just officially declared war,” she said. “And there’s gonna be hell to pay.”

The three of them stood a moment longer, the wind tugging at the edges of their shirts, the sun carving sharp shadows across the cracked earth. Then they moved.

Out toward the dunes.

Toward the trail, Sandra, and toward the reckoning.

The heat rose in waves off the dirt as Valerie broke into a run, Last Ride bouncing lightly against her thigh, boots pounding the brittle soil. Her voice carried back, sharp and breathless. “If we’re fast enough maybe we catch them before they get to an extraction vehicle.”

Judy gritted her teeth, pushing herself to keep pace, her body still aching from the adrenaline crashes of the past few days. “Somehow,” she panted, “I don’t think this is about extraction.”

Behind them, Vicky’s voice came low but cutting as she surged forward. “You think they grabbed my daughter just to lure you away from camp?”

Valerie didn’t turn. “They weren’t subtle about it. No sand masking, no signal cloak just grabbed her and ran. So either they were in a hurry... or they wanted to be found.”

The thought dug cold into her gut. Every instinct screamed trap, but the louder scream was Sandra’s name in Vicky’s throat. They couldn’t stop. Wouldn’t.

The trail cut across hard-packed flatlands and deeper into the fringe scrub, following the slight depressions in the soil. Valerie tracked the Sandvistan marks with growing tension every few meters, the dirt shifted, smeared from sudden speed bursts. But still linear. No diversion. They were being led.

They crossed a dry canal bed before cresting a low ridge, and there it was.

An old farming house sat half-buried in the dirt, the roof sagging at the center, its solar array shattered and long-dead. A few broken panels hung from the siding, wind-beaten and faded. The front fence had collapsed inward, and the side walls were tagged over in old war scrawl and miltech stencils half-erased by sand.

The tracks led straight to the side entrance, where a single door hung slightly ajar.

Valerie slowed, crouched just behind the crumbling remains of a dry irrigation tank, eyes scanning the windows.

No movement. No glint of chrome. Just silence.

Judy dropped beside her, chest heaving lightly. “You think they’re inside?”

Valerie’s emerald eyes narrowed, pupils constricted. “They didn’t cover their tracks. Which means either they don’t care… or they want us walking in hot.”

Vicky crouched low on the other side, her grip flexing tight around her pistol. “If she’s in there…” Her jaw tightened. “I go in first.”

Valerie shook her head. “We do this together. You see her, you call out. Don’t break formation.”

Judy glanced at her datapad, flipping quickly through an EM field overlay. “No active signals inside. Could be a dead zone.”

“Could be a trap,” Valerie muttered.

Vicky’s voice was iron. “Could be my kid.”

They exchanged a single look and no nods. No bravado. Just that shared, silent agreement of people who’d faced death before.

Valerie raised her pistol, eyes flicking to the door. “On my mark.”

The wind kicked a dust curl around the broken steps.

Valerie rose, and moved.

The door creaked on rusted hinges as Valerie eased it open, the barrel of Last Ride sweeping inward first. She stepped through the threshold slowly, bootfall quiet but firm. The interior of the farmhouse was hollow dust-drenched wooden beams, cracked tiles littered across the floor, an overturned table with claw marks along one leg. Light spilled through the holes in the roof, shafts of sun slicing through air heavy with age.

Judy moved just behind her, gun drawn, watching the corners with practiced precision. Vicky’s steps were sharp, her eyes scanning for any trace of her daughter. But the house was empty. Quiet. Too quiet.

“No sign of anything,” Judy muttered.

Valerie’s brows drew tight, the silence crawling up her spine. Then something shifted not in the house, but in her head.

A sensation like static hummed against the base of her skull. A memory. Not her own thoughts, but something pulled from them. Flashes. The flicker of her hand brushing aside brushwood to uncover a hatch beneath a water tower. An old smuggling route she’d used years back to run medicine to Pacifica.

She blinked hard, then tapped her temple with two fingers. “Good thinking, Velia.”

Judy gave her a brief, puzzled glance but didn’t question it.

They spread out. Valerie’s eyes swept the boards until she found a faint scuff, a line running just slightly out of pattern with the grain. She knelt, pressed her fingers against the seam.

It gave with a soft clunk.

“There,” she whispered.

The hatch creaked open, a plume of dry air curling out. Valerie swung her legs down into the darkness and dropped first, landing with a soft grunt onto hard-packed earth. The tunnel stretched ahead metal-braced and damp with age, the scent of old oil and dust thick in the air.

“Clear,” she called up.

Judy followed next, then Vicky, who landed harder, pistol drawn instantly.

They advanced through the runoff tunnel in a wedge, flashlights sweeping ahead. The faintest echo teased their ears low voices ahead, distorted by distance and concrete curve. Vicky gritted her teeth.

Then they heard it again. Closer.

A chamber opened just ahead, faint light bleeding through from a rusted grate above. Valerie signaled for quiet, but it was already too late.

Vicky spotted her.

Sandra.

Bound, gagged, knees tucked awkwardly beneath her, eyes wide with panic.

“SANDRA!” Vicky’s voice cracked as she surged forward.

“Vicky…wait!” Valerie hissed, but the words were gone in the charge.

Footsteps echoed just off to the left. Then a figure stepped from the shadows, leaning against the curved wall of the side tunnel like she owned the air itself.

Kassidy.

Hair tied back, eyes burning with a predator’s calm, pistol holstered but easy to draw. She tilted her head slightly, smirking.

“Finally face to face again, Valerie. I was beginning to think Bianca’s methods would bore me to death. Got tired of waiting.”

Valerie raised her pistol, but didn’t fire. “Snake Nation always did prefer ambushes to fights.”

Kassidy’s smirk curled crueler. “You don’t know the difference?”

Valerie stepped forward. “You kidnapped a kid. That makes you a coward.”

“She’s bait.” Kassidy lifted one shoulder. “You’re the prey.”

Valerie’s voice dropped, sharp as glass. “You don’t want this fight.”

“Oh but I do.” Kassidy’s eyes gleamed. “You see…”

Clack.

Another footstep. Then another. Echoes layered into echoes.

Judy spun, back against Valerie’s. “We’ve got company.”

Shadows peeled away from the sides of the tunnel, figures stepping into view. Chrome glinting, rifles drawn, vests bearing the unmistakable green-marked glyphs of Snake Nation.

“Surrounded,” Judy hissed.

Valerie didn’t flinch. She turned her eyes to Kassidy, voice low, lethal. “Last mistake you’ll ever make.”

Back to back, their shoulders barely brushing, Valerie and Judy steadied their breath in the cramped, stinking dark of the runoff tunnel. The stale air was laced with rust, old earth, and sweat not just their own. Across the chamber, Snake Nation boots echoed in staggered sync, closing in. Judy could feel Valerie’s pulse like a second rhythm thudding behind her own. Their adrenaline had locked in tight.

Judy glanced sideways, her voice dry but low. “What did you ever see in Kassidy anyway?”

Valerie exhaled once, a sharp breath through her nose, lips twitching. “Didn’t have anyone, thought maybe she was who I needed. But after seeing who she became…” She rolled her jaw. “Pretty damn sure I made the right call dumping her ass.”

Vicky crouched beside Sandra now, checking the gag, pulling her wrists gently free. “You get some kind of cheap thrill hurting kids?” she spat toward the tunnel wall where Kassidy still leaned.

Kassidy didn’t blink. “That’s rich coming from a clan that hands them rifles before they hit puberty.”

Valerie’s eyes flicked toward her, narrowed. “We raise survivors. You turn them into pawns.”

Kassidy’s reply never made it past her teeth.

The moment cracked.

Snake Nation moved.

Boots scraped. Fingers flexed around triggers. One flash of metal glinted off a shoulder mount, and Valerie and Judy moved like a reflex.

In perfect sync, they peeled from each other Valerie to the left, Judy to the right, shoulders clearing, muzzles sweeping wide. Last Ride barked first, the slug punching through the gut of a chrome-laced merc stepping from the left side tunnel. Judy’s revolver followed with a double-tap that split the silence and the cheekbone of the bastard that tried to flank Vicky.

“Right side!” Judy shouted, ducking low behind a crumbling pipe outgrowth.

“Copy!” Valerie answered, spinning with her boot against the wall for leverage and catching another enemy in the thigh. She didn’t wait for the scream to finish before pivoting her fire to the next.

Vicky had Sandra halfway behind a bracing pillar now, shielding her with one arm, pistol spitting fury into the oncoming wave. Her face was stone. Her aim was vengeful.

Gunfire shook the chamber. Muzzle flashes lit the tunnel like strobe pulses. Shadows danced. Shells clattered. The air was thick with grit, heat, and the sound of old bones trying to hold against new war.

Valerie caught a glimpse of Kassidy still standing at the edge of it all smiling, still watching.

“Don’t just watch,” Valerie snarled, taking a few steps forward mid-fight. “Come see what you missed out on.”

Kassidy’s smile only deepened as if the chaos was a curtain call.

Around them, the real war began.

The tunnel screamed with gunfire.

Valerie dropped to one knee behind a rusted pipe manifold as rounds sparked off the stone beside her. She chambered another slug, exhaling slowly, eyes cutting through the dust haze for movement. Across the chamber, Judy was already duck-walking between cover, #1 Crush gripped two-handed, tight and true. Every shot she fired dropped a threat. Controlled, clean, precise.

To Valerie’s left, a chrome-armored merc with a wrist-blade came charging up the tunnel, screaming something garbled and unhinged. She swung Last Ride in a sharp arc, blasting a slug into his chest at near point-blank range. He staggered but didn’t fall. Just hissed, blood and oil pouring from the ragged dent in his plate.

Valerie didn’t wait. She surged forward and slammed her elbow across his jaw, then kicked his knee sideways with a grunt. He dropped, twitching, and she yanked his rifle away before spinning to fire into the next pair charging through the rear.

“Vicky, status!” Judy barked, catching a flash of motion from the right flank.

“She's okay!” Vicky shouted back, crouched low around Sandra with her pistol raised high. “One clipped my arm, I’m fine!” Her sleeve was soaked red, but her hand was steady. Another round barked from her gun, and a merc fell with a shriek.

Judy threw herself beside a support beam just in time to avoid a spray of full-auto fire. It shredded a nest of old wires above her head, sparks raining down. She hissed through her teeth, tapped into her comms.

Judy whispered, breath tight between shots. “Velia anything?”

There was no voice this time, but Valerie felt the pulse flicker in her chest, in her spine. Like a breath held somewhere deep inside her brain.

A memory surfaced, one she hadn’t summoned. The way shadows moved just before an ambush, the shape of a silhouette when someone hugged the wall a little too close. Not a vision. Not a scan. A reflex given weight by Velia’s rising presence.

Valerie’s eyes narrowed.

Left wall.

She turned hard, shoulder twisting as she brought Last Ride around fired blind.

A body dropped.

Judy blinked. “You saw that?”

Valerie didn’t answer right away. She tapped her temple once. “Didn’t see it. Just felt it.”

Judy didn’t have time to marvel. Another Snake moved in too close, raising a blade like he meant to carve her from the chest up. She dropped her shoulder and tackled him, both of them crashing into the old tunnel wall. Her knee hit first, then her elbow, then the butt of her gun smashed into his jaw with a sickening crack.

Valerie reached her a second later, kicking the merc aside and offering her a hand. “You good?”

“Still breathing.” Judy spat out blood, wiped her mouth. “You?”

Valerie smirked, “Ask me when I’ve got time to ache.”

Behind them, Vicky stood tall now, her good hand holding steady as she covered Sandra, who had ducked low, clutching a pipe wrench someone must’ve left behind years ago.

Another merc charged, gun raised, and from the shadows, a shot rang out.

Sandra.

The merc froze mid-step, a hole blooming through his upper chest. He fell like a sack of chrome and flesh.

Vicky stared, wide-eyed. Sandra trembled, holding the wrench and a pistol she picked up with both hands. “I didn’t mean…he was…he was coming at you!”

Valerie snapped another slug into place. “You did good, kid.”

The chamber fell still for a breath.

Then Kassidy’s voice cut through the dust.

“Well, that got interesting.”

All guns swung in her direction. She hadn’t moved. Still leaning, arms folded now, pistol untouched.

“You’re gonna have to kill me,” Valerie growled.

“Oh, I know,” Kassidy said softly. “But first”

She pressed something on her belt.

The tunnel behind her began to hum. Low. Dangerous. The kind of noise that meant charge packs were heating, or explosives had been wired.

Valerie’s eyes snapped to it. “Judy!”

“Already on it,” Judy said, sprinting toward the source.

Kassidy didn’t try to stop her.

She was smiling, because this wasn’t over.

This wasn’t even close to over.

The hum deepened.
A resonance that built pressure in the eardrums, set the tunnel’s rust-caked walls trembling. Judy reached the embedded charge unit just as the warning LED began pulsing red.

“No-no-no…” she muttered, ripping open the panel. The guts inside were crude but effective. Dual rigged with a backup destination trigger, hardwired to a wireless link standard Snake Nation fail-deadman setup.

Behind her, Valerie fired another shot, Last Ride barking down the corridor as Vicky shielded Sandra tighter behind a cracked pillar beam.

Judy’s teeth clenched. “Velia,” she hissed under her breath, her voice not meant for anyone but the thing now watching through Valerie, “what’s the thermal window on this cell?”

A pause. Not in words. In presence.
Then through Valerie’s pulse, across The Link just once, just barely:

“Seventeen seconds. Mid-charge. Now fourteen.”

Judy’s hands moved faster.

She spliced the capacitor line, yanked the detonation cord from the ignition point, then slammed the hilt of her blade into the secondary fuse port snapping it sideways, metal cracking with a dry spark.

The hum died.

Red light blinked out.

Silence swept in like a gasp held too long. Judy dropped back onto her heels, chest heaving. “Fuck.”

Valerie glanced over, one eye still on the tunnel. “You good!?”

Judy nodded, wiping sweat off her lip. “Yeah. She almost lit the whole goddamn tunnel.”

Across the chamber, Kassidy’s voice echoed with that too-smooth drawl. “Would’ve saved me the trouble. Shame you're still so clever.”

Valerie stepped forward, breathing sharp through her nose. “You brought mercs into our territory. Took a kid hostage. This ain’t the City. There’s no hustle to spin this.”

Kassidy tilted her head lazily, finally pulling her sidearm. “And you think this was ever gonna be clean? Valerie, you’ve been a walking liability since Night City. And now the NUSA wants you boxed or buried.”

Valerie didn’t blink. “You think you scare me? I’ve seen gods die on rooftops. And I’m still here.”

Kassidy’s grin didn’t reach her eyes. “Then let’s see how long you stay standing.”

She fired first.

Valerie didn’t flinch. Her aim held steady, finger already on the trigger.

The slug from Last Ride tore through the echo before the echo finished. A single clean shot between the eyes.

Kassidy didn’t make a sound as she hit the floor.

Judy’s breath caught. “Valerie what the hell did you just do!?”

Valerie stood still, smoke curling from the barrel. She didn’t lower the gun.
Didn’t apologize. Didn’t explain.

She just took one slow breath. “What I had to do.”

Judy moved toward her slowly, lowering Valerie’s arm with her hand.
“That shot… that was a kill shot. You knew she’d fire.”

Valerie nodded once. “Didn’t have seventeen seconds left.”

Judy moved toward her slowly, lowering Valerie’s arm with her hand.
“That shot… that was a kill shot. You knew she’d fire.”

Valerie nodded once. “Didn’t have seventeen seconds left.”

The echo of the last shot still hung faint in the air, slowly swallowed by the deep hush of the tunnels.

Vicky finally tore her eyes from Kassidy’s body, then turned to Sandra dropping to her knees beside her, arms scooping her close. “You’re okay, you’re okay,” she breathed, pressing her lips to the top of Sandra’s head even as her hands checked for injuries.

Sandra held tight, her face buried against her mother’s neck. “I didn’t talk. I swear.”

“You didn’t need to,” Vicky murmured. “You held on. That’s everything.”

Judy leaned closer to Valerie now, the hand that had steadied her arm drifting down to her waist, fingers curling just beneath the strap of her belt. “That was Bianca’s signal node, wasn’t it? Their fallback plan.”

Valerie’s voice was low. “She was the bait. Kassidy was the insurance.”

Judy let out a breath, then turned slightly, eyes sweeping what was left of the mercs. Two still groaned in the far end of the tunnel wounded, but not moving. One of them had dropped his rifle in the scramble. Vicky didn’t even blink before kicking it down the drainage hole.

Valerie stepped toward the edge of the chamber and crouched by one of the fallen Snake mercs. She pulled a data chip from his wristband still glowing faint, likely pulsing with mission telemetry or biometric logs. She passed it to Judy without a word.

“We can decrypt it later,” she said. “Might tell us where the rest of the crew is posted.”

Judy tucked it into her side pouch. “We’re not going back empty-handed.”

“Far from it,” Valerie said, then turned toward Vicky. “We need to move. Even if this was their whole play, Snake Nation doesn’t leave bodies behind unless they’re stalling.”

Vicky nodded, one arm still wrapped tightly around Sandra. “She can walk,” she said softly, “but I’m not letting go.”

Valerie tapped her comm twice. “Panam, we’ve got Sandra. Hostile confirmed: Snake Nation, led by Kassidy. She’s down. But we’ve got wounded and a trail to follow. We’re bringing them in.”

Panam’s voice came back sharp, tight: “Copy. Valerie word got out the clan is talking. We are setting up an emergency meeting.”

“Understood,” Valerie replied. “We’ll rendezvous at the command RV.”

Judy was already pulling shells from her side pouch, sliding it into place with a click. “This isn’t over.”

Valerie gave a small nod, brushing a hand down her neck where sweat clung to the collar of her tank. “No. But she made one mistake.”

Judy glanced over. “Which one?”

Valerie’s emerald eyes narrowed toward the tunnel’s dark mouth. “She thought hurting us would make us run.”

Sandra looked up, her voice a whisper, but steady now. “What do we do next?”

Vicky answered before anyone else could, her voice like stone. “We make sure they never come near this family again.”

Then they turned, cutting the dark once more, feet crunching over old concrete and dust. The way back was clear but ahead, there were new lines to draw.

No more time for mercy.

The sun hit hard when they emerged.

Not hot yet, but stark, like the world had moved on without them and was trying to pretend nothing happened in the tunnels beneath. Valerie squinted against the light, a hand coming up to shield her emerald eyes as she stepped out of the farmhouse, boots crunching dry earth. Dust clung to her shoulders, her arms, her red hair. Judy came next, holstering #1 Crush, the datapad still clipped tight on her holster belt.

Vicky and Sandra followed a step behind. Vicky’s sleeve had been tied off mid-bicep with a makeshift bandage, the blood already drying along her forearm. She didn’t complain, didn’t so much as flinch. Her uninjured hand was laced firmly in Sandra’s, and Sandra didn’t let go.

Valerie groaned softly, flexing her shoulder as they crested a rise in the gravel trail. “Emergency meeting’s probably because I broke orders.”

Judy brushed her hip against hers, leaning close as they walked. “You didn’t break anything. You followed the trail, found the girl, and took down the threat. That’s more than most could’ve done.”

Valerie glanced sideways, her mouth quirking just faintly. “Still got a feeling Panam’s gonna yell.”

“Then let her,” Judy said, voice low. “We saved Sandra. Some things are more important than orders.”

Ahead, the tents of the camp started to come back into view. Still distant, but close enough now to catch the faint outlines of movement people gathering near the command RV, the solar panels glinting harshly in the morning sun. A few figures stood watch near the water drums, weapons at ease but eyes sharp. The whole camp buzzed differently now. Like a current running just under the surface.

Sera was among them, standing near the edge of the mess tent, scanning the horizon with that fierce little stare she got when trying not to panic. She spotted them before anyone else, took one step forward, then broke into a full run.

Valerie dropped to one knee as Sera collided into her arms, wrapping her in tight. “You found her,” she breathed. “You really found her.”

Valerie kissed the top of her head. “Told you we would, Starshine.”

Judy stood close behind, a hand brushing down Sera’s back as she met Vicky’s eyes. No words passed. Just understanding.

Cassidy’s voice called from up near the command tent. “Panam’s ready for all of you. It’s time.”

Valerie sighed, shifting her grip on Sera, letting her go slowly. “Guess I better go face the music.”

Vicky adjusted the grip on Sandra’s hand. “You won’t be facing it alone.”

As they moved forward step by step, dust and light all around them Valerie didn’t look back. Not at the farmhouse, not at the tunnel. Only forward, toward whatever reckoning came next. Not with fear. But with clarity.

This time, there would be no more shadows.

Only truth, and a family worth standing for.

The door to the command RV hung open. Not wide just enough to show the tension bleeding out from inside.

Valerie’s boots hit the aluminum step first. She moved slow, spine tight, the kind of deliberate pace that kept breath even and kept panic tucked somewhere behind her ribs. Dust still clung to her hair and the bare skin of her neck, sweat drying fast in the artificial chill as she stepped inside.

The hum of the RV’s systems filled the space with low fans, idle comm lines, the faint static buzz of something left half-tuned. No one was sitting.

Panam stood by the console, arms folded, jaw sharp. Mitch was beside her, knuckles braced on the edge of the holotable. Carol leaned near the panel wall, silent but watching. Cassidy stood off to the right, posture casual but the twitch in her fingers betrayed it. Dante stood near the rear with arms crossed, expression unreadable.

Judy came in behind Valerie. Sera and Sandra had been held back by Vicky's call. Probably smart.

Panam didn’t waste time.

“You went dark,” she said, voice flat. “Ignored chain. Took your wife, and Vicky underground on a personal lead. You’re gonna tell me why.”

Valerie’s eyes met hers. “Because Sandra was taken. Because someone had to move.”

“You think I didn’t have people ready to move?” Panam shot back. “You think I didn’t already have Mitch running the map routes and Cassidy pulling sensor pings?”

“You had people talking,” Valerie said. “I had a trail.”

Panam took a step forward. “You had a job. One I gave you. That didn’t include going rogue on a backscatter echo.”

Valerie’s jaw worked once before she answered. “Sandra was gone. A child. One of ours. You wanted protocol. I didn't have time. I followed the signal. Judy followed me. Vicky came because Sandra’s her daughter.”

Carol finally spoke, voice quiet. “You found her at the farmhouse?”

Valerie nodded once. “Locked underground. Gagged, and tied.”

“And Kassidy?” Cassidy asked, eyes narrowing slightly. “She’s dead, yeah?”

Valerie’s mouth tightened. “She fired first.”

That changed the air.

“I didn’t ambush her. She pulled a trigger. Missed me by half a foot. I shot back. That was the end of it.”

No one spoke for a beat. The quiet inside the RV was sharper than silence.

“She was Snake Nation,” Judy added, voice steady. “She had a signal trigger wired into the wall backup node. If she’d hit Val, that thing would’ve gone off.”

“Another bomb,” Mitch muttered.

“She wanted leverage,” Valerie said. “Thought luring us in by taking Sandra would be to her advantage. She was wrong.”

Panam’s jaw flexed again. “So now Snake Nation has a body to bury and a vendetta to ignite. And we’ve got a hole in the ground, a shattered relay, and everyone in camp whispering like we’re the goddamn ticking clock.”

Dante looked toward Judy. “Anything else come outta that tunnel?”

Judy nodded, unclipping the small side pouch on her belt and fishing out the shard. “Found this stashed with her gear. Haven’t slotted it yet, but I skimmed the header tags. It’s Snake Nation op traffic. Could be months old. Could be days.”

Cassidy took a step forward. “And you’ve just been sitting on it?”

“We didn’t exactly get a cooldown moment,” Judy said, sharp.

Panam reached for the shard but didn’t plug it in just stared at it like it might burn her.

Carol crossed her arms. “You realize what this looks like to half the camp?”

“They’re scared,” Mitch said quietly. “And not just about Snake Nation. They’re scared we’re letting old ghosts lead us.”

Valerie’s emerald eyes lifted at that.

“You think I wanted this?” she asked, voice barely above a whisper but clear. “You think I wanted to come back here with fire on our heels and a little girl who doesn’t sleep through the night unless one of us is telling stories to her?”

Silence.

“I didn’t come to cause a war. I came to keep the ones I love breathing. That includes Sera. That includes this damn camp.”

Panam’s fingers tightened around the shard. “It’s not about what you wanted, Val. It’s about what you’ve done. It’s what comes next.”

That line hung there. Unfinished. Meant to be.

Valerie felt Judy shift beside her, close but not touching. Not yet.

Dante exhaled, arms still crossed. “We’ll talk more when the shard’s data is cracked.”

Cassidy was already stepping toward the console. “And when the rest of camp cools off enough to stop choosing sides.”

Valerie didn’t flinch at that. She’d already felt it in the stares. The sidelong glances. The too-long silences at meal tents.

They weren’t choosing.

They were sharpening.

The door to the command RV creaked as it opened behind them, just enough for Panam’s voice to trail out into the dust-heavy morning.

“Get me Snake Nation on comms,” she snapped. “I need to clean this up before the fire spreads.”

Valerie didn’t look back. Her boot hit the bottom step with a soft thud, just as Dante’s voice floated after.

“I’ll check on Bianca. Make sure she’s still confined.”

The words felt heavier than they should’ve. Like they carried more than logistics like they were a warning.

Judy reached the dirt beside her, boots kicking up dry grit. The sun was higher now, slicing between tents and trucks, catching the solar panels with a cruel glare. The heat was coming. You could feel it gathering in the wind.

Sera stood near the mess tent’s edge, arms crossed tight, emerald eyes flicking between them. She didn’t speak. Didn’t run. Just watched.

Valerie met her eyes and held them as she moved forward, slow, deliberate. When they reached her, they didn’t say a word. Judy slipped a hand behind her shoulder. Valerie caught the other.

Together, they tucked her between them.

No questions. No performance.

Just the quiet shuffle of feet, walking the path back toward the tent they called home.

Vicky and Sandra fell beside them a few steps later. Sandra stayed close to her mom’s side, still pale, still quiet. Her arms were wrapped tight around herself, like she hadn’t fully shaken the cold from underground.

The camp buzzed low, quieter than usual, but sharper too. Like the quiet just before a dust storm that hadn’t picked a direction yet.

Valerie didn’t mean to listen, but the voices rose as they passed.

“Bianca. I still can’t believe it. She laughed with us. Ate with us. Slept two tents down.”

“Three months she was here. Watching. Reporting. What if she wasn’t the only one?”

“Maybe she wasn’t.”

Another voice low, female. “If someone like that can slip past, how are we supposed to trust anyone?”

“Ever since they came back,” someone else murmured, “tension’s been rising again.”

“That’s not fair,” someone replied. “They fought with us. At Mikoshi. They almost died.”

“And now they’re dragging us into another war?”

Valerie kept walking. Step by step.

“They make people nervous,” a voice to her left whispered. “Not because they’re bad, because they don’t bend.”

“Yeah? I feel safer since they came back. At least they’ve got backbone. They don’t wait to act.”

But the next voice undercut it all.

“They took Sandra. In daylight. Broad fucking daylight.”

“And we didn’t see it happen. Even with double patrols.”

“If we can’t protect our own kids, are we even safe here anymore?”

The weight of it clung like heat.

They passed the generator crates. Passed the rack of solar-still jugs steaming under the sun. Sera’s hand tightened in Valerie’s, and Judy’s thumb brushed the back of it without looking.

Their tent waited ahead, faded canvas pulled taut, the Racer parked beside it like always, humming faintly with stored charge. Same as it ever was, but nothing about it felt untouched now.

Valerie unclipped the flap. Sera ducked under first, head low. Judy followed. Then Sandra and Vicky, quiet as shadows. Valerie let the flap fall behind her.

Inside, the dust was softer. Light filtered through the seams like diluted gold. Their crates sat where they always had. Valerie’s guitar rested near the cooler. The curtain to Sera’s cot hadn’t moved.

But everything felt... off-angle. Like something once straight had shifted by a degree.

Outside, the camp kept murmuring.

Not loud. Not angry.

Just… splitting.

Inside the tent, the air was still. Cooler than outside, but close. Familiar. The kind of quiet that didn’t chase out the noise, just softened it.

Judy moved first. She gestured toward the canvas chair near the rear crates. “Sit down, Vick. You’re still bleeding.”

Vicky blinked like she’d forgotten, then gave a small, grateful grunt as she lowered herself. Her arm rested loosely in her lap, bandage darkened but holding.

“I’ve had worse,” she muttered, though her eyes tracked Sandra automatically.

Judy didn’t answer, just crouched beside her, already unzipping the med kit. Alcohol, gauze, dermal glue. Movements were clean, efficient. The pads of her fingers brushed Vicky’s skin with practiced care as she peeled back the temporary wrap.

Across the tent, Sera and Sandra had slipped onto the edge of Sera’s cot. The blanket was a little wrinkled this morning. None of them had straightened it after the pills went missing. Sandra sat with her knees close, shoulders tense. Sera leaned in gently, her hand resting soft on Sandra’s knee.

“You okay?” she asked, just above a whisper.

Sandra nodded once. It was small, but real.

Valerie moved slower. Her legs ached in a way that didn’t feel muscular, and her hands were still dusted with tunnel grime. She popped the cooler, grabbed a half-filled water bottle, and dropped down onto the cot opposite them.

The first drink hit hard. Her throat was dry. The second cleared the back of her tongue. By the third, her head had started to settle into something close to still.

But inside her somewhere behind the heat, behind the water, behind the ache Velia stirred.

It wasn’t sharp, or sudden.

Just… presence.

A flicker, and then memory began to bleed through.

A cab, Delamain interface flickering. Smoke in the air. Jackie slumped in the seat beside her, blood everywhere. The glow of the city outside, uncaring. Her hand, trembling as she placed it over his shoulder. Her voice, raw and quiet.
“See you in the major leagues, Jack.”

Then a rooftop in Japantown. Judy’s voice was tight with fire and desperation. The two of them crouched together under that broken billboard light, plotting to take Clouds back from the Tyger Claws. The aftermath: Tom bleeding out in the hallway. Roxanne carried half-consciously past the booths they swore to protect. Judy, crying without making a sound.

Followed by the convoy under moonlight. The final push toward Mikoshi. The wires. The rig. The faces of Nomads she barely knew who died trying to make it through the Arasaka firewall. Valerie, connected to the neural matrix, everything going white hot, her body screaming, then the sound of nothing as Mikoshi collapsed.

The water bottle was still in her hand.

Judy, at the chair, stilled. Her fingers paused on Vicky’s shoulder. Her eyes blinked once.

She felt it.

The pulse of pain, every cut of memory surfacing through the link they shared. Not forced. Not inflicted.

Just… there.

Velia was watching. Learning. Absorbing not just data, but cost.

Valerie didn’t flinch. She didn’t cry. Didn’t move, even as every wound surfaced again. Every choice she made. Every price.

She took another sip of water.

Her eyes drifted toward Sera and Sandra.

That was why.

The datapad at Judy’s hip fizzled. Static low, like a glitch, then a soft hum.

Velia’s voice came gently through the speakers, still shaped like a child’s but steadier now. More defined.

“I understand now.
I was born from this.
The cost of moving forward…
is only what we leave behind.
But love…love is how we move forward.”

Judy looked down at her hip, lips parted slightly. She didn’t say anything.

Velia went quiet again. The datapad light blinked.

Then, softly:

“Mother… how do you remain calm when your world is threatened?”

Valerie set the bottle down on the cot beside her. Let her hands rest in her lap. She looked at the girls. At Judy. At Vicky.

She spoke, low and sure.

“I don’t need the whole world,” she said. “Everything in this world that’s worth a damn… is sitting in front of me right now.”

Her voice didn’t waver. “And I don’t need anything else.”

Sera moved without a word.

She slid off the cot in one smooth motion, feet whispering across the dirt floor. The cooler popped open with a soft creak, her fingers dipping in fast like she’d done it a thousand times. She came up with two water bottles one colder than the other, and a ration bar with its edges slightly crushed from heat.

She didn’t make a show of it. Didn’t ask if anyone was hungry.

Just turned and walked back toward Sandra.

The girls locked eyes as Sera sat again. She held out the water first, then the bar. “You should eat something.”

Sandra hesitated, then took both with a quiet, “Thanks.”

Sera didn’t look away. “You’re okay now. I got you.”

Sandra gave a tight nod. She was still pale, but her grip on the bottle didn’t shake anymore.

Judy stood up slowly from Vicky’s side, wiping her hands on a cloth strip. “The wound's sealed, but you’re gonna need a real patch job later.”

Vicky flexed her fingers gently. “Hell of a morning.”

Valerie leaned back on the cot, one hand behind her head. “It’s not even noon.”

A breath of dry laughter moved through the tent. Not joy. Just the kind that came from shared exhaustion.

Vicky exhaled, shifting her weight. “They’re not wrong, y’know,” she said, eyes on nothing in particular. “The whispers out there.”

Judy tensed but didn’t interrupt.

Vicky glanced toward the door flap, then back. “We got people scared. Not just of Snake Nation, but of what it means to stand up to ‘em again. What it costs.”

“We didn’t start this,” Valerie said quietly.

Vicky nodded. “Doesn’t matter. We’re still the reason it’s come to a head.”

Valerie didn’t argue.

Judy crossed her arms, her weight leaning against a gear crate. “If we’d waited, Sandra would’ve disappeared. They would’ve buried her so deep no one would’ve found her. What were we supposed to do?”

Vicky looked at her, eyes steady. “You did what a parent does.”

Sandra stirred slightly at that. Sera touched her knee again, gentle, wordless.

Valerie’s voice came low. “I don’t regret going. I’d do it again. But I won’t pretend it didn’t break something.”

Judy turned her head. “You mean with Panam?”

“I mean with the whole camp.” Valerie’s eyes flicked toward the wall, toward the faint sound of a generator humming somewhere outside. “It was already cracking. We just gave it a reason to admit it.”

There was a pause. A natural one. Weight without anger.

Vicky’s voice broke it. “So what do we do now?”

Valerie rubbed her hands over her face, fingers pushing through her bangs, catching on the sweat at her brow. Her voice came out dry, low.

“Well,” she muttered, “we can either wait in here till they call us back for round two… or we can venture out, listen to all the noise we stirred up.”

She didn’t sound bitter. Just tired.

Judy reached for the cooler again, grabbed another water and cracked the seal with a hiss. She took a long sip, then handed one to Vicky without a word before lowering herself beside Valerie on the cot. Her head landed on Valerie’s shoulder, the weight of her hair spilling down like seaweed against bare skin.

“I’ve had my fill of gossip for the day,” she said, eyes half-lidded. “If I hear one more opinion whispered like it's a prophecy, I might scream.”

Sera wrinkled her nose. “I’d rather wait in here.”

Sandra, still chewing, tore a piece from her ration bar and offered it silently to Sera. No words, just the quiet kind of gesture that meant I’m still here. Sera smiled and took it.

The tent settled again. The light shifted slightly as a gust caught the canvas. Outside, voices moved past without slowing. No one called their names.

Then Velia stirred.

The datapad on Judy’s belt clicked softly, no static this time, just a calm, inquisitive tone.

“Mother… Mama… what does love feel like when your skin touches?”

Valerie blinked. Judy froze mid-drink. Vicky’s brow arched as she slowly looked up from her bottle.

“Is that when you share body heat? Is that why you cry sometimes in bed but it doesn’t hurt? I’ve seen memories… I think it’s called intimacy? Is this what makes the neural link stronger?”

Valerie let out a breath, part laugh, part shock. “Oh no.”

Judy dropped her forehead into her hand, her voice muffled against her palm. “Velia…”

Vicky snorted. “Well shit.”

Sera’s whole face turned red. “Velia, please! We don’t need those kinds of answers!”

Velia hesitated. The datapad blinked.

“Was the question incorrect? I don’t understand the reaction. Is this information private or sacred?”

“You could say that,” Valerie said, rubbing her thumb at her temple, eyes half-lidded now. “There’s love you share out loud. And love that’s just… yours.”

Judy sat up a bit, her voice more patient now. “Velia, what you’re seeing in the memories are moments we gave to each other. Not to everyone. It’s not that we’re mad. It’s just... not something you analyze.”

“Even though I am made from you?” Velia asked, softer now.

Valerie nodded, then clarified, “Even more reason to respect it.”

The datapad dimmed slightly. Silence followed.

Then, after a long pause:

“Love is… choosing someone even when it hurts. Keep them warm even if you’re cold. Letting them be ugly. And still saying they’re beautiful. Is that right?”

Valerie blinked once, throat catching.

Judy smiled gently. “Yeah. That’s the start of it.”

Velia didn’t speak again, but the datapad light glowed steadily. Soft amber.

Outside, someone called about patrol rotations. A kettle whistled two tents down.

Inside, everything stayed still, and for a while, no one spoke. Because there was nothing else that needed saying.

The tent had the hush of early afternoon heat now light pressed faint and golden through the seams, casting uneven lines across the canvas floor. It smelled of dust and warm fabric, faint antiseptic from the med kit, and the sweet chalky crumble of ration bars.

No one rushed to speak again.

Judy shifted, adjusting the crook of her arm behind Valerie’s back, fingers brushing her ribs gently just presence, not pressure. Valerie didn’t move away. Her breathing had slowed, steadied. The water bottle sat half-finished on the cot beside her.

Sera and Sandra leaned into each other without noticing. Sera rested her chin lightly on Sandra’s shoulder, her arms looped around her knees.

Vicky leaned her head back against the tent pole, eyes closed, the bottle of water balanced between her hands like a prayer she wasn’t saying out loud.

“You girls remind me of old times,” she said eventually, eyes still shut.

Valerie turned slightly. “Us?”

“No. Them.” Vicky tilted her head toward the girls, voice soft. “Young and stupidly brave. No idea what the world’s gonna take from you. Loving hard anyway.”

Judy’s eyes flicked toward them, quiet for a moment. “We were like that.”

“Still are,” Valerie murmured.

“Yeah,” Judy agreed. “Just with more scars.”

Sera whispered something to Sandra then too low to catch, but it made Sandra smile for the first time since they came back.

Valerie watched them. Her voice, when it came again, was quiet. “Are you doing okay, Starshine?”

Sera nodded, but her eyes stayed on Sandra. “I was scared. But… I’m okay now.”

Sandra didn’t say anything. Just leaned a little closer.

Vicky cracked one eye open. “She’s been through hell. But she’ll come out of it. Dearing girls bend. We don’t break.”

Valerie glanced toward Judy. “Sound familiar?”

Judy smirked. “Like a lotus in a storm.”

Valerie grinned. “I was gonna say cactus flower, but yeah. Close.”

The datapad didn’t flicker. Velia stayed silent. Like she was listening.

Valerie tilted her head back, eyes tracking a thread of sunlight running across the roof seam. “Feels like we’re in the eye of it right now. Calm, but everything’s still circling.”

“No telling what happens after,” Judy said.

“But we’re not alone,” Vicky added.

Sera looked up. “Do you think they’ll try to make you leave?”

Valerie didn’t answer right away. She just looked at her.

Judy looked over at Sera. “If they do, they’ll have to look us in the eye when they say it.”

Valerie’s voice followed, soft but firm. “And wherever we go… we’ll go together.”

Sera nodded. Then leaned her head against Sandra’s shoulder again.

Outside, the wind had started to shift carrying new dust, new voices. None of it made it past the canvas just yet.

The silence inside the tent had just started to stretch again when footsteps crunched against the gravel outside. Not hurried. But purposeful.

Then Mitch’s voice, muffled just slightly by the canvas.

“We’re ready to meet again.”

Valerie closed her eyes for a beat before calling back, “We’ll be there soon.”

There was a pause.

Then Mitch added, “Bring Sera too. This meeting affects all of you.”

Sera stiffened slightly where she sat, eyes flicking toward Valerie.

Vicky stood up partway, brushing her palms on her pants. “You want me and Sandra there too?”

A longer pause this time.

“The meeting’s supposed to be for the Alvarezes,” Mitch said. “But you’re welcome to wait outside.”

Then his footsteps moved off, boots grinding softly into the dust.

No one rushed.

Judy stood, and walked over to Sera brushing her fingertips down Sera’s back. “You good, mi Cielo?”

Sera nodded, but her eyes were wary. Not scared. Just bracing.

Valerie stood, then reached for her jacket slipped it over her shoulders like armor. “Let’s go hear it.”

They moved together. Not stiff, not slow. Just steady. A knot of quiet strength.

The walk back wasn’t far. But the camp felt different now, more eyes, less sound. People stopped what they were doing to glance up. Not with the same heat as earlier… but not with warmth either.

Vicky and Sandra peeled off near a supply crate just outside the RV, staying back like Mitch had asked. Vicky gave Valerie a small nod.

Inside, the cool air hummed again with quiet tension.

Panam stood near the holotable, hands on her hips. Carol hovered near the display, tapping through a log feed. Cassidy leaned near the comms rack. Mitch stood where he had earlier, calm but unreadable. And Dante was still near the back wall, arms crossed, eyes fixed on them the moment they stepped in.

All of their gazes met the same way: sharp, uncertain, like they’d already made a decision and were waiting to see how it would land.

Valerie and Judy stepped in with Sera between them, their hands brushing her back and shoulder. Not holding. Not sheltering. Just… there.

Panam didn’t pace. She just spoke.

“The shard confirmed what you said,” she began. “Kassidy was running her own op. She and Bianca were coordinating alone.”

Mitch picked it up. “We reached out to Snake Nation leadership. They didn’t sanction it. They want this buried. Quiet. They don’t want Arizona’s government finding out one of their people was working with the NUSA.”

Carol’s voice was calm, but thin. “We snuffed out the fire. But there’s still smoke. And it’s thick.”

Cassidy turned toward them, eyes harder now. “You two are still high-value targets. Word’s gonna spread eventually. There’s no telling who comes next. Could be more NUSA. Could be corpo. Could be someone we don’t see coming.”

Dante’s voice followed not cold, just solid. “We had to think about what’s best for the family.”

Valerie’s jaw tensed. Her hand hovered behind Sera’s shoulder.

“So what?” she said. “We bled with you. Mikoshi. The raids. The border runs. Now that it’s calm again, you decide to turn your back?”

Panam’s expression didn’t waver. “We chose to help you at Mikoshi because we believed in you. And we still do. None of us regret that.”

She stepped forward slightly. “But we didn’t come to Arizona to be hunted again. We came to live. To rebuild. To stop looking over our shoulders.”

Valerie opened her mouth, but before she could speak, Sera stepped forward.

Her voice was small, but clear.

“Then why did you offer me a patch?” she asked. “Why tell me I belonged here… if you didn’t think we all did?”

Her words hit the room like a soft weight.

Even Panam faltered.

Sera looked up at each of them. “You said I had a family now. That the Aldecaldos protected their own.”

No one answered right away, and for a moment the only sound in the RV was the quiet hum of the cooling fan, and the breath they all forgot to let go.

Panam’s eyes didn’t drop. Not from Sera. But it took her a breath longer than usual to find her voice.

“We did mean it,” she said. “Every word. You do belong.”

Sera’s brow furrowed. “Then why are you trying to push us out?”

“It’s not about you,” Mitch said, his voice quieter than usual. “It’s about the target that’s grown around your family. And the fact that none of us saw it coming until it was too late.”

Cassidy folded his arms, gaze narrowing. “That girl who lived beside us for three months Bianca, she almost took Sera out without firing a shot. If Valerie and Judy hadn’t caught her first…”

“We wouldn’t be having this meeting,” Carol finished, flat.

Dante looked at Sera then not through her, not around her. At her. “We failed you. Not just you,” he added, flicking a glance to Valerie and Judy. “All of you. Letting someone like Bianca into the fold… letting Kassidy use Sandra to draw you out? That’s not just a risk. That’s a breach. And if Snake Nation hadn’t chosen to back off…”

He trailed off.

Judy’s voice cut through the quiet. “But they did back off. Because we found the proof. We stopped the fire.”

Cassidy didn’t flinch. “This time.”

Sera looked between them all, jaw clenched. “So what? You say I belong, but what you can’t handle what comes with that? You’d rather make us leave than make everyone else uncomfortable?”

“It’s not about comfort,” Carol said, a little sharper now. “It’s about survival.”

Valerie finally stepped forward, her voice calm but tight. “Then be honest. Say what you mean. Say we’re too dangerous to love.”

Panam didn’t answer.

No one did.

Sera’s lip trembled, but she didn’t cry. She just reached back, found Valerie’s hand without looking, and held it.

Judy moved to her other side, brushing her fingers along Sera’s shoulder. “If this is how family treats its own,” she said, “maybe we were never really patched in.”

Panam’s gaze dropped for the first time.

Not in shame.

Just weariness.

Like she already knew what was coming next.

Panam looked up again. Not at Sera this time, but at Valerie.

Then Judy.

Then Mitch, Cassidy, Carol, and finally Dante.

Whatever conversation they’d had earlier, whatever lines had been drawn it was already decided.

Panam’s voice didn’t rise. It didn’t crack. It just came out like a decision she didn’t want to say out loud, but would carry the weight of anyway.

“You have until sundown.”

The words didn’t echo. They didn’t need to.

Judy’s breath caught, almost imperceptible. Valerie’s hand stayed steady around Sera’s.

“You’re not exiled,” Panam continued. “No one’s erasing what you did for this clan. But we can’t carry the heat anymore. Not with Snake Nation watching. Not with the NUSA still after you. And not after this.”

She paused. No one interrupted her.

“You’ll always have blood here. But not a place.”

Mitch looked down.

Carol crossed her arms but didn’t speak again.

Cassidy just watched.

Dante his jaw clenched once, but he stayed silent too.

Sera’s voice came barely above a whisper. “So that’s it.”

Panam nodded once. “That’s it.”

Valerie looked across the room, at each of them. Not angry. Not pleading. Just taking in their faces, one by one. The people she bled beside. Shared fires with. Saved and was saved by.

She didn’t cry either.

“Understood,” she said.

Then she turned, her hand still in Sera’s, and walked out.

Judy followed, and the door of the command RV shut behind them.

The sun hit differently when they stepped out of the RV. Lower now, but still sharp, cutting long shadows across the dirt.

Vicky and Sandra stood a few meters off, near the crates. They didn’t speak. They didn’t need to. From the look on Vicky’s face, they’d heard every word.

Sera didn’t let go of Valerie’s hand. Judy was silent, her jaw tight, her steps slow.

Vicky stepped forward first. Her voice was even, but it rang like something final.

“I don’t have faith in this family anymore.”

Valerie met her eyes, steady. She didn’t argue.

Vicky glanced back toward the RV, then down at Sandra, her hand brushing the back of her daughter’s head. “After everything… I trust you two. That’s what matters now.”

She looked up again.

“If it’s okay… me and Sandra we’d like to leave with you.”

Judy’s answer came before Valerie could speak. “Of course it’s okay.”

Valerie nodded. “If that’s what you want… we’ll be glad to have you.”

Sandra’s eyes didn’t waver. She took Sera’s free hand, just like that.

No one said thank you. It wasn’t needed. What they had now didn’t come from gratitude. It came from survival. From choice.

As they turned and started walking back toward the tents, the last light dragging out before them Sera looked up, her voice quiet.

“Where are we going?”

Valerie slowed for a second, then took a breath.

“The only other place we know,” she said. “Back to Night City.”

Judy gave her a quick glance, then nodded like she’d already expected it.

Valerie’s voice softened. “I always dreamed of planting roots at Laguna Bend. That lake… it was supposed to be home. The corps tried to erase it. Tried to erase us. But we’re still here.”

She squeezed Sera’s hand gently. “We’re still standing.”

The tents loomed ahead quiet now, some of the flaps drawn closed, a few people pretending not to watch.

Vicky walked just behind them, Sandra and Sera beside one another.

Judy’s voice came low, thoughtful. “There probably aren’t bounties anymore. Not publicly. If we learned anything from Bianca, it’s that this was never just about what we did in Night City.”

Valerie nodded. “They want to know how.”

“How you’re still alive,” Judy said. “What surviving Mikoshi means. What you are.”

Valerie’s steps didn’t slow. Her voice was calm but hard-edged.

“Then I’ll make sure every damn camera in that city sees me.”

She glanced sideways at Judy. “If they want to watch me like I’m some data ghost, fine.”

She looked forward again.

“Eventually, they’ll get bored.”

Judy pulled her gaze toward the rows of tents ahead, then gave a quiet nod to herself.

“I’ll go grab the Seadragon,” she said. Then she looked at Vicky and Sandra. “You can pack your things in with ours. The left side’s usually lighter.”

Vicky gave a single nod. “We travel light.”

Valerie squeezed Sera’s hand once, then tipped her head toward the tent. “Come on, Starshine. Let’s get our life back.”

Inside, the tent felt smaller now. Not because of grief, because they’d already begun to let go. Valerie moved smoothly, grabbing the canvas bags with folded clothes, rolling up Sera’s blanket, tucking her art supplies into one of the side crates. Her guitar silver-bodied with purple inlays was the last thing she reached for. She checked the strap, gave the strings a brush with her thumb, and slung it over her shoulder.

Sera packed in rhythm, moving like she’d done this before. She had. Too many times.

Judy returned minutes later, the Seadragon humming low behind her as she eased it into park beside The Racer. The matte gray van, weathered and dusty from desert miles, still ran like it belonged nowhere and everywhere at once.

They fell into the rhythm without needing to talk about it. Valerie and Judy loaded their crates into the left side of the van. The latch straps clicked into place, canvas bags slid into the side recess by habit. Valerie tucked the guitar between the storage netting with care.

On the right, Vicky and Sandra packed up their gear: two crates, a few bags, some tools. Everything they needed and nothing they didn’t.

It didn’t take long. The sun hadn’t moved much. But the air felt different now like something had lifted off their shoulders.

Valerie zipped up the last side bag and slung it into the rig’s back compartment. “If we take the southern tunnel,” she said, “we should hit Laguna Bend before early evening.”

They gathered just outside the tent one last time. No goodbyes. No last looks.

The only family that mattered stood together now.

Vicky reached for the van keys from Judy with a quiet lift of her hand. “I’ll drive,” she said. “Give you three some space.”

Sandra had already climbed into the passenger seat, door open, one leg curled up beneath her as she waited.

Valerie turned toward the rig, resting her palm along its side as she walked. The paint caught just a flicker of red from the dying sun. She climbed into the driver’s seat.

Judy settled in beside her, setting her arm on the rest and her hand on Valerie’s thigh.

Sera slipped into the backseat, knees up, arms around them. Her hair caught a streak of sunlight as it filtered through the window.

Judy unclipped the datapad from her belt and set it on the dashboard. The screen flickered for a second.

Velia’s voice came softly, inquisitive.

“Mother. Mama. I wish to understand the meaning of home.”

Judy’s eyes softened. She glanced toward Valerie, then back at the screen.

“Home isn’t a destination, Velia. It’s the people willing to stand by you.”

There was a pause.

“So we are already home, then?”

Sera smiled from the back, leaning forward over the seats. “Yeah, Velia. We are. And I couldn’t ask for a better one.”

Valerie’s breath caught. Just slightly.

She glanced in the rearview mirror, caught Sera’s reflection smiling, steady, alive.

“We are with you always, Starshine.”

She turned the key.

The engine rumbled, and the road opened.

Not behind them, but ahead.

From the datapad came one final murmur, soft and almost reverent:

“I will remember this moment. All of it.”

Then, silence just the hum of tires and the sun cutting low over the open desert.
Carrying them forward.

The last stretch of the road gave way to gravel and ghosted lines, long faded from disuse. The desert around them had gone quiet under the weight of the moon. No wind, no wildlife. Just the low hush of the lake and the rig’s tires rolling slow through dust that hadn’t been disturbed in years.

Laguna Bend waited ahead tucked between the water’s edge and the long-forgotten asphalt curve like it had been holding its breath since the world changed.

The Racer’s headlights cut soft arcs across the old cottage, still standing. A little worn. A little weathered. But intact. One story. Sloped roof. A small porch sagging slightly where the edge met the cracked cement path.

Beyond it, the lake shimmered under the moonlight silver bleeding into black. The ripples were soft, like the water remembered hands that used to touch it.

Behind them, the Seadragon rumbled to a halt. Vicky killed the engine with a short twist. Quiet settled around both vehicles, thick and steady.

Valerie eased the door open first. Her boots crunched lightly against the gravel as she stepped out. She took a breath. The air smelled different here. Less dust. More stillness. That faint wet edge of the lake. Sagebrush. The faint trace of oil and rust from something buried long ago.

Judy came around the front, her hair catching stray moonlight in streaks of pale pink and green. She didn’t speak. Just stood beside Valerie, shoulder brushing hers.

The passenger door of the Seadragon popped open and Sandra stepped out, blinking into the darkness like she was trying to see a future in it. Vicky followed, slower, one hand shielding her eyes as if the night was too wide.

Sera leaned her head out the rig window, eyes wide. “Is this it?”

Valerie nodded, her voice quiet. “Yeah. This is it.”

No fences. No patrols. No watch rotations. Just space. Just water. Just the outline of a home that had waited long enough.

The cottage door wasn’t locked, it didn't need to be. Valerie pushed it open with her fingertips, letting the creak echo gently into the night.

The inside was sparse but clean. Dust, sure, but not decay.

To the right, a narrow kitchenette with wooden shelves and a chipped enamel sink. Behind it a small living space, dining table, a secondhand couch with faded throw over the back.The left side held the hallway, one bedroom, one bathroom.

Valerie stepped through the threshold, her boots brushing sand from the floorboards. She turned back and reached for Sera’s hand as she came in behind her.

“This isn’t much,” she said. “But it’s ours.”

Judy followed last, her hand drifting over the wall as she passed the datapad clipped to her belt. She touched a light switch, but it didn’t respond. They’d figure that out later. The moonlight through the windows was enough for now.

No one said much. The quiet wasn’t awkward, it was reverent.

Sera drifted toward the living room, her fingers brushing the back of the couch. She looked back over her shoulder. “Is it weird if I say it feels… familiar?”

Valerie gave a tired smile. “Not weird at all.”

They dropped their bags in the main room. Vicky set her gear down against the kitchen wall. Sandra moved toward the window and stared out at the lake.

It was dark, but the glow of Night City stretched faint and tall on the horizon, smeared across the badlands sky like a bruise that never healed.

Here, the moon still had space to shine.

Valerie glanced around the dim interior once more, eyes adjusting to the way the moonlight carved lines through the dust floating in the air. She rolled her shoulders, the long drive still clinging to her bones, then murmured, “I’m gonna check the breaker.”

No one stopped her.

She stepped back outside into the cool night air, the door creaking shut behind her. Gravel crunched again under her boots as she circled around the side of the house, eyes scanning for the old panel box she vaguely remembered.

Inside, Judy moved into the kitchen and twisted the cold tap. The pipes groaned, but the water came. Clean enough. Not fast, not strong, but it ran.

“Still flowing,” she said under her breath. A good sign.

Sandra lingered near the hallway, rubbing at her eyes.

“Um… does the bathroom work?” she asked. “It’s been a long ride.”

Judy didn’t look up from the sink. “If the water’s running, it should. Pipes might rattle, but they’ll hold.”

Sandra nodded and disappeared down the hall.

A few seconds later, a low mechanical thunk echoed from outside, followed by a flicker then the lights came on. Not bright. Not sterile. Just enough warm overhead glow to chase back the shadows. The fridge in the kitchen buzzed softly to life.

Valerie reentered a moment later, bare-legged and dust-streaked, brushing her hands off on her shorts as she stepped inside. “Breaker’s ancient, but it’s still kicking. For now.”

She paused for just a breath in the doorway, taking it in this space again. Not unfamiliar, or distant. Just changed.

The same light slant over the couch where she’d watched Judy late into the night. The floor creak near the kitchenette where she’d first danced barefoot to no music. The corner near the hallway where, once, in silence, Judy had taken her hand and asked if love could survive the world.

She didn’t need to say any of it. Just breathed it in.

Judy was already by the sink, rinsing the inside of the old coffee machine with one hand while nudging a filter into place with the other. Valerie moved beside her, reaching into a familiar tin up on the shelf fingertips brushing paper, not beans.

She tugged out the wax-wrapped bundle of eddies, more memory than money.

Judy glanced sideways. “Seriously?”

Valerie smiled faintly. “Guess we never emptied this one.”

She tucked the eddies into her back pocket and stretched slightly, looking toward the door. “Be back soon.”

Judy turned. “Where are you going?”

“No one’s eaten since breakfast,” Valerie said. “Fridge is a graveyard. I’m gonna grab some pizzas. Something easy.”

Judy stepped forward not stopping her, just reaching. Her fingers found Valerie’s arm, light. “Be careful, mi amor.”

Valerie leaned in, pressed a kiss to Judy’s lips, slow and sure. “I will. Promise.”

She stepped back, the chill of the night and the weight of old ghosts watching her go. She slipped out the door and into the dark.

Back inside, Judy stood still for a second longer, her fingers lingering at her own cheek where Valerie’s touch had been. Then she turned back to the counter, hit the coffee button, and let the old machine wheeze to life.

As the coffee began to brew, a faint flicker lit the datapad clipped to Judy’s belt.

Velia’s voice came soft, low enough not to startle. “Is this what sanctuary feels like?”

Judy looked down at the screen for a moment, then smiled faintly to herself.

“Yeah,” she murmured. “It feels like it to me.”

Sera was curled up sideways on the couch now, half-asleep, one foot hanging off the edge. Sandra wandered from the hallway with damp hands, rubbing her face and blinking against the soft light. Vicky stood by the window still, her silhouette framed against the silver lake beyond.

They weren’t just settling in.

They were coming back, and the cottage knew it.

The coffee pot hissed, its old heating coil groaning like it had been waiting years for someone to come back and ask something simple of it.

Judy didn’t rush. She stood by the counter, watching the steam curl up in soft, loose spirals, her fingers brushing the rim of one of the chipped ceramic mugs she’d set out. Mismatched. Slightly faded.

Velia didn’t speak again, but the datapad blinked once, then settled into a quiet glow like she was taking it all in. Learning without words.

Sandra shuffled into the kitchen a few seconds later, drawn by the scent of coffee and the faint comfort of movement. Her hair tied back now in a loose band. She rubbed one eye and glanced at Judy.

“Do you think we’re gonna stay here forever?” she asked.

Judy turned slightly, surprised by the softness of the question.

“I don’t know,” she said honestly. “But we’re here now. That’s what matters.”

Sandra nodded. “It’s nice. I think Sera already claimed the couch.”

Judy smirked. “She did that the second her boots hit it.”

From the living room, Sera murmured something unintelligible, not quite awake, one hand curled under her chin.

Judy poured a half cup of coffee and passed it to Sandra carefully. “No sugar, or milk yet. Don’t complain.”

Sandra took it with both hands and gave a lopsided smile. “I wouldn't dream of it.”

Vicky finally stepped away from the window. Her hands were in her jacket pockets, her expression unreadable, but her eyes were softer now.

“Feels like a place that remembers,” she said, not to anyone in particular. “Houses like that don’t always survive. But this one did. That’s something.”

Judy nodded slowly. “It remembers us, too.”

She moved around the table and sat across from Sandra, sipping from her own cup. The warmth hit her chest like a small anchor. Her muscles started to finally loosen.

Sandra leaned her head on the table, steam rising gently past her cheek.

Judy looked toward Sera, still half-asleep, her red hair catching the pale light from the ceiling. Then back to Vicky, now standing at the kitchen’s edge, half-shadowed but still watching over all of them.

From her belt, the datapad let out one quiet chime.

Velia again gentle.

“Will Mom be gone long?”

Judy tilted her head, voice soft. “Not if she can help it.”

“I think I like it here. Even the stillness.”

Judy’s smile flickered faintly. “Then you’re already one of us.”

Outside, the wind brushed softly across the lake, just barely heard through the walls. The house held still. Holding them, just enough.

Vicky shifted her weight, then straightened, eyes still half on the lake.

“I’m gonna start unpacking the van,” she said, voice even but tired. “Maybe… maybe it’ll help me start to believe in something again.”

Judy looked up from her cup. “You want help?”

Vicky didn’t answer right away. Just gave a small nod tight, like something had settled in her chest but hadn’t quite left yet.

Judy set her mug down, quiet, and followed her out the door.

The night air brushed against them with that desert cool sharp but not cold. The Seadragon sat quiet, its doors already unlocked. The rig still carried heat in its frame.

They moved without much talking at first. Vicky grabbed one crate from the passenger side, Judy pulled a bag from the back. Their footsteps crunched softly against the gravel, dull thuds under the weight of real life.

Judy passed her a folded blanket roll. “You’ve got something on your mind.”

Vicky didn’t deny it.

She paused, eyes on the crate in her hands. Then she leaned it against the side of the van, just for a second. Took a breath.

“Just thinking about Samantha,” she said.

Judy stayed still, one hand resting on the edge of the open door.

“I told you I lost her during the Mikoshi assault,” Vicky continued. “Didn’t even see it happen. Just one minute she was there. Then she wasn’t.”

The wind stirred faintly, lifting the edge of her hair.

“I used to think… if you and Valerie hadn’t pulled the Aldecaldos into that fight, maybe she’d still be here.”

Judy’s shoulders stiffened slightly. She didn’t speak.

“But,” Vicky said, looking up now, eyes clear even if her voice was rough, “then I nearly lost Sandra. And if you two hadn’t acted as fast as you did, she would’ve been gone too.”

She swallowed.

“That’s when I realized who you really are. Not just who people say you are. Who you are.”

Judy met her gaze, steady.

“You saved my kid,” Vicky said. “You didn’t owe us that. But you did it anyway.”

Moments passed as they moved things from the van. The sound of the lake, the desert night, the faint creak of the van frame cooling under moonlight.

“I think,” Vicky said, “I might be able to give my daughter a life worth living after all. Because of what you two gave up. Because of what you’re still willing to risk.”

Judy didn’t reply right away. She just nodded once deep, slow.

Then she handed Vicky the last crate from the van. “Let’s get this inside.”

The last of the crates clunked gently against the cottage floor as Judy and Vicky stepped inside, boots brushing dust from the threshold. Vicky nudged the door shut behind her with the heel of her boot, then set the crate down near the small dining table. It leaned a little to the left, one leg slightly shorter than the others. It didn't matter.

The house already felt fuller.

In the living room, Sera was curled tighter now under the faded throw blanket, her face tucked into the couch cushion, feet bare and half-hanging off the edge. Sandra sat cross-legged nearby with her back to the couch, leafing slowly through one of Sera’s sketchbooks with quiet reverence, like each drawing held something sacred.

Judy paused near the kitchen to check the coffee machine still sputtering through the last of the brew. She didn’t touch it. Just watched the steam swirl a moment, then glanced toward the door.

A few minutes passed like that. The house hummed with small noises. A new kind of silence. One that didn’t ache.

Then headlights swept across the front window soft and slow.

The Racer.

Gravel shifted outside as Valerie pulled in, the low growl of the rig cutting out just as the warmth of her return reached the porch.

Judy moved to open the door before the screen could creak. Valerie stepped up the walk, a worn cardboard box in one hand, a six-pack of bottled lemonades tucked under her other arm.

She looked tired. Wind-stung, sun-smudged, freckles faint from the day, but smiling.

“Locust pepperoni,” she said, holding the box slightly higher, “extra cheese. And a whole lotta forgiveness in every slice.”

Judy grinned as she stepped aside. “You know how to make an entrance.”

Valerie leaned in and pressed a kiss just behind Judy’s ear as she passed. “Told you I’d be back.”

She set the pizza box down on the table beside the last unpacked crate, popping the lid halfway open to let the scent spill into the room rich, greasy, sharp with spice.

“Brought lemonades too,” she added, setting them out in a neat little row. “Figured we’re not quite ready for tequila yet.”

Vicky gave a quiet chuckle from where she leaned against the counter. “Speak for yourself.”

Sandra looked up, already halfway to her feet, eyes wide. “Is that real pepperoni?”

“Real enough,” Valerie said. “Greasy enough to stain your soul.”

Sera stirred under the blanket, blinking toward the table. “Did someone say pizza?”

Valerie turned to her, voice softening. “Come get some before Sandra eats it all.”

The girls moved quickly, barefoot and suddenly alert, laughter just under the surface now. Judy passed out plates from one of the half-unpacked crates, and the kitchen filled with the subtle clatter of a family coming together around something simple.

No speeches. No declarations.

Just warmth, food, and the kind of silence that meant no one needed to run tonight.

The dining table was a little too small, and slightly uneven one leg stacked on a folded towel Judy had found under the sink. But no one complained. They sat close, shoulders brushing, knees knocking under the wood, steam rising gently from each slice of pizza as it was claimed.

Sandra reached first, snagging a slice with a sharp “yes” under her breath like she’d won something. Sera followed with barely restrained energy, lifting a slice so heavy with cheese it stretched halfway to the plate before snapping back into her lap.

Valerie leaned back slightly in her chair, one arm draped over the top rail, watching them with a quiet smile.

Vicky cracked open a bottle of lemonade and passed it to Judy, who handed it to Sera without needing to be asked. It was the kind of movement that had rhythm not rehearsed, just natural.

“Okay,” Sandra said around a mouthful, “I’m just saying this beats protein packs and dry rice any day.”

“Preach,” Sera mumbled, already two bites into her second slice. “Why don’t we eat like this all the time?”

Valerie grinned. “Because we usually don’t have forty eddies in spare change.”

Judy raised her bottle in mock toast. “To the last of the emergency pizza fund.”

They clinked glass, soft and lazy.

Vicky sat down across from Valerie, her plate already half-cleaned. She watched the girls with a look that was somewhere between relief and memory. “It’s been a long time since I’ve seen Sandra eat without looking over her shoulder.”

Sandra heard that, but didn’t speak. She just nudged Sera’s foot under the table and kept chewing.

Valerie leaned over and whispered something into Judy’s ear, too low for the others to catch. Judy laughed, full and unguarded, her head falling back just slightly.

“You’re not serious.”

Valerie raised both brows. “When am I not?”

Judy smirked. “When it involves sauce and your fingers in my hair, definitely not.”

Sera made a face. “I’m right here.”

Valerie just grinned wider and took another bite of crust.

The light above them buzzed faintly, the glow not perfect but warm enough. Outside, the lake reflected the moon like glass, just barely seen through the kitchen window.

No one rushed the meal.

There were seconds, thirds, and bites stolen from each other’s plates like lines in a song no one had sung in a while.

Velia didn’t speak at first. The datapad rested on the side table, light glowing like she was listening, learning, quietly absorbing the language of ease.

The pizza disappeared piece by piece. Lemonade bottles emptied one by one.

As the laughter settled and plates emptied, the datapad blinked once. Then again.

Velia’s voice came quiet. Gentle.

“If I had a body… I think this is what full would feel like.”

Sera smiled, licking pizza sauce off her thumb. “You don’t need one to be family.”

The pad blinked again. Once. Then it stayed quiet.

The glow softened, and stayed on.
Like a nightlight no one asked for but someone needed.

The fire of the world stayed quiet.

For tonight, the house had all it needed.

Sera leaned back in her chair, her lemonade bottle resting against her cheek, still cold.

“So,” she said, voice curious and half-playful, “how do we get more eddies for nights like this?”

Valerie smirked around the rim of her bottle. “Well, I could go back to taking gigs again.”

Judy’s head snapped up. “Absolutely not.”

Valerie raised an eyebrow, amused. “How come, Jude?”

Judy narrowed her dark brown eyes, setting her bottle down. “Because it was bad enough for me waiting up all night wondering if you’d make it back from some cargo hijack or synth smuggling run. I’m not about to let our daughter go through that too.”

Sera blinked, then gave a quiet, “Oh.”

Valerie softened. “Fair.”

She leaned back, emerald eyes flicking toward the window, where the lake shimmered just beyond the glass.

“Maybe I should focus on music,” she said slowly. “There was already some noise with Kerry before maybe I check in with him again. See if there’s something to build. Start a new profession.”

Sera nearly dropped her lemonade. “For real?!”

Valerie grinned. “Could be a nice change of pace.”

Sandra nudged her with an elbow. “Can you sign a copy of the first album for me?”

Judy rolled her eyes but smiled. “Better than getting shot at and coming home with a bullet stuck in your ass.”

Valerie lifted her hands. “Not every time…”

Judy cut her off with a look.

Laughter floated softly across the table.

Velia’s voice came gently from the datapad, tucked on the end table beside them.

“Is music safer than guns?”

Valerie tilted her head. “It depends who’s listening.”

“I hope it’s safe. I like the way you sing, Mother. It makes the air feel soft.”

Sandra let out a tiny breath, half a laugh.

“That’s weird,” she murmured. “But kinda sweet.”

Vicky, still seated across from them, reached out and ran a finger along the rim of her bottle. Her voice was low, thoughtful.

“She’s right. That kind of sound… it makes things feel less broken.”

Valerie didn’t respond right away. But her hand found Judy’s under the table.

Judy gave it a light squeeze, then leaned forward slightly. “If you’re taking the stage, I guess I could go back to Lizzie’s. Working edits again. Not like anyone but Valerie ever noticed the techie in the basement anyway.”

Valerie smirked. “Oh, I noticed.”

Judy rolled her eyes. “Yeah, well. That’s because you were trying to get under my skin.”

Valerie raised her lemonade. “Mission accomplished.”

Sera groaned. “Gross. I’m still here, you know.”

Sandra grinned. “You picked them to be your Moms.”

Even Vicky laughed, soft and real.

Velia’s light pulsed faintly again, then steadied.

“If everyone has something they love to do… does that mean we are safe now?”

No one answered right away, but no one said no.

Judy looked over at Sera, her fingers tightening slightly in Valerie’s. “We’re getting there,” she said. “One safe breath at a time.”

Chapter Text

The last of the crusts were claimed and the lemonade bottles clinked empty on the table. No one rushed. No one stood too fast. It was the kind of slowness earned after a long stretch of survival eating like the worst was finally behind them, at least for tonight.

Judy stood first, brushing crumbs from her lap and gathering the empties. Sandra helped without being asked, stacking plates with a quiet rhythm. Sera dragged her heel along the floorboard beneath the table, idly sketching invisible lines with her toe.

Valerie leaned over and gave her a nudge. “Are you planning to carve something into the floor already?”

Sera grinned. “Too late. Mentally etched.”

They broke into motion then not in a rush, but in a way that felt like belonging. Judy opened the bedroom door and flicked the light switch. The ceiling fan creaked once, then hummed to life. The small dresser was just where they remembered leaving it dusty but still sturdy. Valerie slung her bag onto the bed and unzipped it, pulling out clothes and folded linens, sorting them into drawers that still stuck slightly on the pull.

Sera claimed a corner of the room near a low bookshelf. She unpacked her sketchbooks, her pencils, and a small tin of markers. Everything went onto the shelves with care, her fingers trailing the wood like it was something sacred.

“I like this spot,” she said, half to herself. “It feels right.”

Vicky and Sandra stayed in the living room. Vicky unfolded one of the cargo blankets across the far wall and began arranging their bags in a row beneath it, Sandra helping without needing instruction. They didn’t complain about the temporary arrangement. They just made it theirs.

“We’ll build out something,” Vicky said. “Even just a little add-on. Porch space, maybe. A second room if we find good salvage.”

Valerie, barefoot now and stretching her spine with a low groan, stepped into the doorway and surveyed the room.

“Well,” she said, “I’m feeling adventurous.”

Judy looked up from folding towels. “Oh?”

“If the shower still works,” Valerie said, “I might risk finding out.”

Judy raised an eyebrow, her smirk soft and slow. “I’ll join you on that adventure.”

Valerie grabbed a towel. “Then let’s go test the plumbing, babe.”

Sera groaned from the corner. “Seriously?”

Valerie winked. “It’s just a shower, Starshine.”

“Uh-huh,” Sera mumbled, sketching again. “Don’t blame me when the pipes explode.”

Judy shot a grin over her shoulder as she followed Valerie down the short hall carrying some sleep clothes. “We’ll keep it under thirty minutes.”

“Seven,” Sandra called. “Generous.”

Vicky chuckled from where she sat, kicking off her boots. “As long as they don’t flood the whole damn house, let ’em have their shower. They’ve earned it.”

The bathroom door clicked shut a moment later.

The house, for the first time in too long, felt lived in again.

The bathroom was smaller than they remembered, but it felt exactly the same.

The light above the mirror buzzed once, then steadied, casting a warm, quiet glow across the tiled walls. Valerie stood barefoot on the cool floor, watching the steam begin to curl against the edges of the glass, her hands moving slowly as she unwrapped a towel.

On a shelf near the back of the shower, behind an old loofah and a cracked soap dish, sat a half-used bottle of lavender vanilla wash. Valerie picked it up, thumb brushing the faded label.

“I can’t believe this is still here,” she murmured.

Judy came up behind her, chin brushing Valerie’s shoulder as her arms slipped around her waist. “You mean you can’t believe I hoarded the one scent you liked back then.”

Valerie turned slightly in her arms, catching her dark brown eyes. “I still like it.”

Judy kissed her cheek, then her neck, soft and slow.

Steam rolled in from the open stall as the water warmed. The air thickened with that familiar scent of vanilla mellow and warm, lavender like memory. Valerie stepped back enough to strip the rest of the way down, letting her top fall from her shoulders and her shorts slide down her legs. Her freckled skin caught the light soft and flushed from the heat.

Judy followed, shrugging out of her own shirt, her hands moving slower, more deliberate. Her tattoos caught the haze, the red spiderweb on her left breast blooming in the mist, the roses curling down her arms like something alive. The lotus near her shoulder sat just above the ghost in the shell piece, the petals darkened with condensation. Valerie’s emerald eyes lingered on each mark like she was relearning them.

Valerie stepped into the water first, the heat sinking into her collarbones, her spine. She let out a quiet breath as it poured over her head.

Judy slipped in behind her, fingers brushing down Valerie’s back tracing the lotus that bloomed across her shoulder, the linework that crossed her chest like a whispered story. Her lips found Valerie’s neck, slow and wet, moving lower just under her ear, then across the soft curve where shoulder met throat.

Valerie turned, water dripping down her cheeks, and kissed her. Slow. Mouths open, breath heavy between touches. Her hands slid down Judy’s sides, thumbs brushing under her ribs, then lifting to cup her breasts, water cascading over both of them as they moved closer.

Their bodies pressed together, skin to skin, the heat cocooning them.

Judy broke the kiss only long enough to trail her tongue down Valerie’s collarbone, then lower still, licking slowly across the soft swell of her breast before taking her nipple into her mouth, gentle at first, then firmer. Valerie gasped, her fingers tangling in Judy’s damp pink and green hair.

The water didn’t drown the sound it carried.

Judy’s mouth moved lower, her tongue tracing the curve of Valerie’s stomach, down across the plane of her hip. But this time she didn’t rise.

She knelt instead.

Steam coiled down her back as she pressed her lips against Valerie’s thigh, soft and slow. Her hands slid up Valerie’s hips, palms warm against wet skin, fingers curving gently around the back of her thighs. She looked up once, eyes catching Valerie’s, focused, full of something quiet and devoted.

Valerie’s breath hitched, her spine straightening just slightly as Judy dipped lower.

The first touch of Judy’s tongue was delicate, almost reverent. A slow stroke along Valerie’s center, parting her gently. She took her time, every movement intentional, her lips pressing wet kisses to the tender flesh between slow licks that built with weight, with rhythm.

Valerie’s head tipped back, one hand bracing the wall, the other slipping down into Judy’s hair with slow, grateful fingers. Her breath left her in soft pulses.

“Jude…” she whispered, and Judy answered by deepening the pace, her mouth tightening its seal, her tongue moving firmer now up, then in, then circling.

Valerie’s knees trembled. Her thighs drew closer around Judy’s head and she didn’t stop her letting herself be held there. Her hands gripped tighter in Valerie’s skin, grounding them both.

It wasn’t fast. It wasn’t flashy.

It was deliberate.

Valerie’s hips rolled into it, slow and arching, her whole body pulling forward in waves.

When she came low, breathless, her hand clapping softly to the tile it wasn’t with a cry. It was with a moan drawn from somewhere deep, something only Judy could reach.

Their hands found each other in tandem Valerie’s fingers sliding down between Judy’s thighs just as Judy pressed between hers. Fingers moving soft at first, then deeper. Rhythm syncing. Mouths locked, breath catching between groans. They moved together, hips rocking, water pooling at their ankles. Pressure built slowly, drawn out in each pulse and slide, until their bodies stilled in sharp gasps, eyes shut, thighs quaking.

They held each other through it.

For a moment, neither spoke.

Just breathing.

Valerie’s forehead pressed to Judy’s, their noses brushing in the steam, mouths parted. Her hand cupped the back of Judy’s neck, thumb smoothing slow arcs through damp strands of hair.

Judy’s eyes fluttered closed, her body warm and soft in Valerie’s arms. “I missed you,” she murmured, voice thick and low.

Valerie let out a breath, shaky with emotion. “I was never gone. I just needed to recover.”

Judy smiled faintly, her lips ghosting across Valerie’s cheekbone. “Still found your way home.”

Valerie kissed her slow, deep, with all the softness they hadn’t had time for in weeks. Her hands slid down the backs of Judy’s thighs, fingers curling, steadying her. Then she dipped lower, kneeling into the flow of the water without breaking eye contact.

She kissed Judy’s hip first. Then her stomach. Then lower still.

Judy’s breath caught as Valerie pressed her lips to the inside of her thigh, warm and unhurried. Her tongue followed next soft, wet, slow. She didn’t rush. She wasn’t trying to make Judy break apart. Not yet. This was worship.

Judy leaned back against the wall, one hand braced above her head, the other buried in Valerie’s red hair, her breath rising in quiet, gasping waves. Her knees trembled once, then again, and Valerie’s hands gripped her hips, anchoring her steady as she drew her tongue slowly and deliberate through her folds.

“Fuck,” Judy whispered, one hand fisting the edge of the towel bar for balance.

Valerie’s lips curled faintly against her, but she didn’t tease. She licked again, firmer now, her mouth working in slow rhythm steady, patient, the way only someone who knew every part of you could do. Her thumb pressed gently up against Judy’s clit while her tongue moved lower again, tasting, exploring, her jaw working slow and confident.

Judy’s body jerked forward just slightly, thighs tightening.

“Don’t stop,” she breathed. “Please, Valerie, don't stop.”

She didn’t.

She kept going until Judy came with a quiet, broken cry, head tipped back, spine arching, her body flushed red across her chest and throat. Valerie only eased off once Judy’s legs started to give.

She rose carefully, guiding Judy down with her, both of them sinking to the floor of the shower, water pouring around them, over them. Their hands stayed locked, fingers twined. Their foreheads pressed together again, slick skin on slick skin.

Judy’s voice came first, rough but clear. “You always do that.”

Valerie kissed her shoulder. “Do what?”

Judy drew in a shaky breath, her fingers sliding slowly up Valerie’s spine. “Undo me,” she said softly, forehead resting against Valerie’s. Her eyes stayed closed, like saying it out loud cost something. But she meant it.

Valerie smiled against her skin, her hand settling over Judy’s heart, warm and steady. “Not undo,” she whispered. “Just… let you breathe.”

Judy gave a small, uneven laugh half-broken, half-relieved. Her arms tightened around Valerie’s waist. “You always do,” she said. “Even when I don’t know how to ask.”

Valerie tilted her head until their noses brushed again, her voice a breath in the rising steam. “That’s why I’m here.”

Judy kissed her slow and open and grateful, the kind of kiss that says I remember us, even after everything.

They stayed there for a while, arms around each other on the wet tile, the water running hot above their heads.

Eventually, Valerie moved first, pressing a kiss to the corner of Judy’s mouth before nudging her up gently. “We should rinse before Sera threatens to become a plumber.”

Judy stood with a wince and a soft laugh. “She’s gonna side-eye us all week.”

“Only if we don’t make her pizza for breakfast,” Valerie said, reaching for the soap again.

Together, they stepped back under the spray shoulder to shoulder, hearts steady. The heat washed over them, and this time, they let it.

They stayed under the spray a little longer just standing there, shoulder to shoulder, steam curling around them like something protective. Valerie reached for the lavender vanilla wash again and poured a bit into her hand before turning to Judy.

“Your turn,” she said, voice low but smiling.

Judy rolled her eyes, arms lifted in mock surrender. “You’re gonna make me smell like nostalgia, huh?”

Valerie lathered slowly, fingers gliding over Judy’s back, down the slope of her spine. “You always smell like nostalgia.”

Judy huffed a quiet laugh, resting her head forward. “That’s not even a compliment.”

“Wasn’t supposed to be,” Valerie teased, rinsing her hands over Judy’s skin.

Judy turned then, flicked water into Valerie’s face. “Okay, punk.”

Valerie blinked, water running from her lashes. “Oh, it’s like that?”

She scooped a splash of water in retaliation, laughing as Judy yelped and ducked behind the spray. The sound of their laughter echoed off the tile light, undemanding, real.

Eventually, the water was shut off with a creak of the knob, and they stepped out, grabbing towels from the hooks. Judy wrapped hers haphazardly around her chest, already reaching for a second to shake out over Valerie’s hair.

“Come here,” she said, drying her like she had a hundred times before, rougher than needed, but affectionate.

Valerie squirmed, towel tugging over her curls. “You are such a menace.”

Judy smirked, eyes narrowing as she reached for a second towel. “I’m preserving the art.”

Valerie shot her a look over one shoulder, damp hair sticking to her cheek. “Of what? Being a damn nuisance?”

Judy grinned, leaned in close like she was about to whisper something scandalous then flicked the towel directly at Valerie’s face. “Tender chaos,” she said, sweet as sin.

Valerie caught the towel against her chest with both hands, blinking through water-damp lashes. She stared at her wife for a beat, then let out a short laugh half disbelief, half surrender.

“You’re lucky I love you.”

Judy stepped in, wrapping her arms around Valerie’s waist, towel caught between them. “You keep saying that like, it's not mutual destruction.”

They changed slowly, playfully bumping into each other in the cramped space as they tugged on their sleep clothes. Valerie pulled on one of her soft old tees navy, faded from sun and wear. Along with some underwear, and cotton shirts. Judy slipped into a loose tank, underwear, and cotton shorts, her damp hair sticking to her collarbone.

Valerie paused at the mirror, wiping away the steam with her hand. “Still beautiful?”

Judy walked up behind her, arms looping lightly around her waist. “Always, mi amor.”

Together, they stepped out into the cooler hallway, the light in the bedroom soft and low.

Sera was lying sideways on the bed, one leg draped over the edge, sketchbook on her stomach. She looked up as they entered, eyebrows raised like she’d been waiting.

“Must’ve been some shower,” she said, completely deadpan. “The way you two are glowing… the water must be radioactive.”

Valerie snorted. Judy smacked a hand lightly against her own forehead. “I walked right into that one.”

Sera grinned, rolling onto her side. “I should be charging a sarcasm toll.”

“Only if you want cold pizza tomorrow,” Valerie called, crossing toward the other side of the bed.

“Rude,” Sera said, burrowing into the blanket.

Judy bent over and flicked off the light near the dresser. “That’s what you get for sass before sleep.”

“Still worth it,” Sera mumbled.

Valerie climbed into bed, reaching over to pull the blanket up higher over Sera’s shoulders. Her voice dropped soft. “Go to sleep, Starshine.”

“Already am,” she murmured.

Just like that, the night wrapped around them again, warm, alive, and full of all the things they thought they might never get back.

Judy slid in behind Valerie a moment later, the mattress dipping gently beneath her weight. Her hand brushed against Valerie’s thigh beneath the blanket, just a light touch in the dark, familiar and grounding.

Valerie turned slightly toward her, tucking herself into that curve without needing to speak. The warmth between them lingered steam and skin, laughter and lavender still clinging faint on their bodies.

Behind them, Sera had gone quiet, her breath evening out. Across the hallway, faint footsteps marked Vicky's slow pass through the kitchen, a cabinet closing with soft finality.

Judy whispered close to Valerie’s ear, voice low and worn with affection. “Feels like we earned this one.”

Valerie nodded, her hand finding Judy’s beneath the blanket, fingers lacing without effort. “We did.”

They lay like that for a while still dressed, but stripped of everything heavy. The fan spun slowly above them. The window was open just a crack, letting in the sound of the lake lapping soft against the shore.

Judy shifted, her lips brushing the top of Valerie’s shoulder. “Do you think we’ll get to keep it this time?”

Valerie took a breath, eyes on the ceiling’s slow spin of shadow and light. “I think we keep it by waking up tomorrow and choosing to stay.”

Judy hummed faintly at that, her body curling in closer. “Then I’ll choose it again. No matter how many times it takes.”

Valerie kissed her temple and closed her eyes. “Me too, Jude.”

Outside, the desert night stretched wide and open, nothing pressing in, nothing clawing to take anything back. Inside, the room held four steady breaths. The soft creak of an old house settling into itself. They could breathe easy for now, and it wasn't long before sleep found them.

The sun had long since risen over Laguna Bend, but it didn’t press its way inside. The old curtains filtered it into slanted gold, soft and slow, cutting through dust motes that drifted like they had nowhere else to be.

The house held still.

No footsteps. No alarms. No cold jolt of responsibility clawing at the back of anyone’s mind. Just the creak of wood expanding in the warmth and the faint hush of the lake, gentle against the shore.

It was early afternoon by the time someone stirred.

Sera shifted first, tangled halfway in the blanket, her sketchbook still beside her from the night before. She blinked once, then again, squinting at the angled light painting across the ceiling.

Her stomach growled quietly.

She stayed there a minute, listening. Sandra’s slow breathing from the living room. The low whir of the fan above. The creak of the mattress where she could feel Judy’s warmth not far off, and Valerie’s steady presence even closer.

Everyone was still asleep or something close to it.

She rolled to her side carefully, careful not to jostle anyone, and reached toward the edge of her sketchbook. Her fingers brushed it. Pulled it in.

The graphite smudges on the last page looked half-formed. A shape like a rooftop. A silhouette that might’ve been the Racer or maybe her mom’s guitar. She smiled faintly and didn’t touch it.

She just held the book against her chest, letting herself lie there for a few more minutes.

Not racing toward the day. Not worrying about the next move.

Just breathing.

Behind her, Valerie let out a slow exhale in her sleep. Judy murmured something half-formed and shifted, the blanket pulling higher.

Sera didn’t say anything.

She just looked out the window at the strip of lake she could see through the curtain gap, water catching sun like it was playing.

For the first time in ages, the world didn’t feel like it was falling.

Behind Sera, the bed shifted with the soft weight of movement. A slow rustle of blankets. The subtle creak of the old mattress springs under muscle and breath.

Valerie stirred.

Her hand flexed slightly against the sheet, reaching instinctively in the space beside her. Judy’s thigh was warm, steady. Her head was tucked close, pink and green strands spilling over Valerie’s shoulder. The scent of lavender and sleep still clung to her skin.

Valerie blinked open her eyes, vision slow to focus against the sun filtering through the curtains. She didn’t speak. Just breathed.

A beat later, Judy shifted to her hand sliding across Valerie’s stomach, palm soft and half-aware.

“Mmh,” she murmured, not quite a word.

Valerie tilted her head just slightly, pressing her lips to Judy’s temple. “Morning.”

Judy groaned softly. “It’s not morning. The sun’s on strike.”

Valerie smiled. “It’s gotta be noon at least.”

From the edge of the bed, Sera’s voice came quiet but amused. “Try early afternoon. I already lost a staring contest with the ceiling.”

Valerie propped herself on one elbow, glancing over her shoulder toward Sera. “Do you get anything for second place?”

Sera held up her sketchbook. “Existential clarity and an overdue craving for pancakes.”

Judy rolled onto her back with a sigh, staring up at the ceiling fan. “I’d kill for coffee and something that doesn’t come out of a foil pouch.”

Valerie shifted, brushing her hair back from her face as she sat up. “Well, kitchen works. We can figure out something.”

Sera was already climbing off the bed, tucking her sketchbook under her arm. “I’ll check the cabinets. If we have pancake mix, it’s destiny.”

She padded out of the room barefoot, the sound of her steps light on the wood.

Valerie looked down at Judy. “We slept in,” she said softly.

Judy turned her head to look at her. “Yeah. We did.”

Valerie leaned down and kissed her once, slow and warm.

“I think we’re allowed to do that now,” Judy whispered.

Valerie nodded. “We are.”

They sat there for a moment longer, legs tangled beneath the blanket, light playing across their faces.

Then Judy stretched, her joints popping in quiet protest. “Okay. If pancakes are happening, I’m contributing. Even if it’s just flipping.”

Valerie pulled the blanket aside and stood, stretching with a low grunt. “Guess we’re officially starting the day.”

Judy smirked as she got to her feet. “Feels like the start of something more than that.”

The floor felt cool underfoot as Valerie and Judy stepped into the kitchen, their sleep clothes soft and wrinkled, hair still a little damp from the shower the night before. The light pouring in through the window above the sink cut gold lines across the countertops, dust dancing in the beam.

Sera was already crouched by the lower cabinet, one hand reaching in with the practiced chaos of someone on a mission. Boxes rattled. Something fell with a soft thud.

“I found a box of pancake mix,” she announced, standing and holding it up like a trophy. “How long ago did we leave this here?”

Valerie stepped beside her, eyes flicking to the faded label. “...Before Night City fell apart?”

Sera frowned at the expiration date, then shrugged. “Still counts.”

Vicky stirred on the couch just as Sandra sat up, rubbing her eyes and brushing her long hair over one shoulder. They moved in tandem, quiet but alert, drawn by the sounds of morning, or whatever hour it was.

“I heard pancakes?” Vicky said, voice still gravelly from sleep.

“In theory,” Sera replied, turning to check the fridge.

She opened it and stood there for a beat, then closed it slowly like she was shutting a casket.

“You weren’t kidding about the fridge being a graveyard,” she said, glancing over her shoulder. “We don’t even have butter. Or syrup. What now?”

Sandra wandered up behind her, barefoot and yawning, peeking into the cabinets on the other side. “If nothing else,” she said, “we’ve got ration bars, and trail mix.”

Sera sighed. “Dystopian brunch, got it.”

Judy laughed softly from the counter. She’d already found the tin of ground coffee again and had the machine humming to life, filling the space with the sharp, familiar scent.

“Well,” she said, pouring water into the reservoir, “at least we still have coffee.”

Valerie leaned against the doorframe, watching all of them Judy’s quiet rhythm at the counter, Sera and Sandra elbow-deep in makeshift pantry raids, Vicky leaning in the doorway with a knowing look like she'd seen a hundred mornings just like this, and not a single one exactly the same.

“Honestly,” Valerie said, “this is already better than most breakfasts we’ve had in months.”

Vicky nodded. “Because we’re not eating with a gun on the table.”

“Or taking turns on watch,” Sandra added, unwrapping a bar and handing one to Sera.

Sera accepted it with a slight grimace. “I still think pancakes would be better.”

Judy handed Valerie the first mug of coffee black, steaming, no sugar, no cream.

Valerie took a sip, eyes flicking toward the sunlit window. “Then we’ll get some,” she said. “Groceries. Supplies. All of it. If we’re gonna stay, we’re gonna live.”

Judy leaned her hip into Valerie’s, sipping her own mug. “One trip at a time.”

Sera took a bite of the bar and wrinkled her nose. “Can the first trip be for syrup? Like, real syrup?”

Valerie grinned over her mug. “You got it, Starshine.”

Valerie leaned against the counter, the mug still warm in her hands. She’d been half-listening to the banter in the kitchen when the thought hit her.

“Has anyone seen my holophone?” she asked, looking between the others.

Vicky wiped her hands on her shirt, nodding toward the door. “Yeah, me and Sandra found it in the Seadragon when we drove out from camp. Might still be plugged into the dash.”

Valerie’s eyebrows lifted. “That’s where I left it. Thanks.”

She finished the last of her coffee in two steady gulps and set the mug in the sink with a faint clink.

“I’m gonna make a call to check in with Kerry, see if I can get something started with the music.”

Judy looked up from where she was rationing out trail mix into a bowl. “Don’t stay out too long, Guapa. That sun’s sharp today.”

Valerie gave a small smile. “Won’t melt. Promise.”

She stepped outside, letting the door swing closed behind her. The air hit a little warmer now, rising off the lake in gentle waves. The Seadragon sat quiet near the edge of the clearing, its sides dusted with a fine layer of desert stillness.

The holophone was exactly where Vicky said plugged into the dash, cord twisted, screen dim but still breathing. Valerie pulled it free, thumb brushing the side as it buzzed faintly to life in her palm.

She didn’t call from the van.

Instead, she walked to the end of the dock, feet soft against the sun-warmed wood, and sat down cross-legged at the edge. The lake shimmered silver-blue beneath her. The neon haze of Night City hung distant and unreachable on the horizon.

She took a breath then thumbed open the contact, and tapped Kerry’s name.

The line clicked once, twice. “Val?”

His voice came low, cautious, suspicion curled tight beneath every syllable.

“Is this really you?”

Valerie exhaled. “Yeah, Ker. It’s me. I’ve got something I wanted to ask you.”

The sound of him adjusting rustling, maybe pacing filtered in before his voice returned, sharp and threaded with panic.

“Haven’t heard from you in weeks. You ghost, disappear off every damn grid… and now you call me out of nowhere while you and Judy’s faces are still plastered all over the city like some corpo horror story.”

Valerie rested her elbows on her knees, the device balanced against one thigh. Her voice softened.

“I didn’t think the bounties were still active. Thought they just wanted to… watch. Study me. Not drag us back in chains.”

Kerry let out a low sound somewhere between a scoff and a curse.

“Of course they do. But once they have you to study Jeezus, Val. This isn’t some fairy tale. You’re not a ghost in the system, you’re a name on a board. A fugitive. They don’t just let that go because time passes.”

Valerie looked out across the lake, the reflection of her own face warping gently in the water below.

“I know,” she said quietly. “The Aldecaldos kicked us out too. Said it was too dangerous keeping us around. Too many eyes.”

Silence held on the other end for a beat, then his voice came through graveled, half static.

“So what? You thought you could just come back? That Night City would forget? That the corpos would give you a welcome mat instead of a bullet?”

Valerie lowered her head, her voice near a whisper now.

“I have a family, Kerry. A daughter. Judy and I… we didn’t know where else to go. We came back to the only place that ever felt like ours.”

Kerry’s voice dropped, serious now. “Where are you?”

Valerie sighed, leaning her head against her knees, phone still cradled in her hand. “Out past the dam. Little cottage near Laguna Bend. It’s quiet. No one’s found us yet.”

Kerry didn’t speak for a second.

Then he spoke firmly. “Don’t go into the city. If you value your family, if you want them safe, you stay out. I’ll come to you. We’ll talk.”

Valerie nodded even though he couldn’t see her. “Can you bring food, Ker? We don’t have much. Just… the basics.”

“I’ll bring what I can,” he said. “See you soon, Val.”

The line clicked. Gone.

Valerie set the holophone down beside her on the dock. The breeze skimmed across the lake and rustled the hem of her shirt. The wood beneath her was warm. The quiet stretched again.

She tucked her knees in tighter and leaned her head against them.

It wasn’t a surprise, but it still hurt.

Even here, even now home comes with ghosts.

The smell of coffee still hung faint in the air, lingering near the kitchen doorway as sunlight stretched further across the floor. The girls had shifted into a quiet rhythm Sera now perched on a stool, pencil tapping lightly against the edge of her sketchbook while Sandra divided up what remained of the trail mix.

Judy stood at the sink, rinsing out her mug, when something in the window caught her eye.

Out past the porch, just where the dock met the lake’s edge, Valerie sat with her knees tucked up, holophone loose beside her, one hand wrapped around her knee like the world had gone cold again without her noticing.

She wasn’t slumped, or wasn't upset, exactly.

But there was a stillness to her shoulders set in a way that said she was holding more than she was letting show.

Judy dried her hands on the edge of her tank, glanced once toward the living room where Vicky was still stretching the sleep from her arms, then quietly slipped through the front door.

The screen gave a soft creak behind her as she stepped down barefoot, gravel warm beneath her soles.

She didn’t call out.

Just walked slow, quiet, like she had a hundred times before. The sun glittered off the lake in low flashes, the breeze threading through her pink and green hair as she reached the edge of the dock.

Valerie didn’t look up, but she shifted slightly enough to make space beside her.

Judy took it without hesitation.

She sat, their thighs brushing. For a moment, she just watched the water too.

Then her voice came low, careful.

“You okay, mi amor?”

Valerie didn’t answer right away. Her fingers tapped once against her knee, then stilled.

“Kerry says the bounties are still active. That we can’t go back into the city without someone trying to snatch us for a paycheck… or worse.”

Judy’s jaw flexed, but her voice stayed even. “We figured as much.”

Valerie turned, finally meeting her dark brown eyes. “I just hoped maybe things had changed. That after all this… someone would’ve stopped chasing ghosts.”

Judy reached out and laced their fingers together, her thumb brushing over Valerie’s knuckles. “They don’t know what they’re chasing,” she said. “They only see what they think you are.”

Valerie looked down. “Danger. Data. A broken relic.”

Judy leaned in, pressed a kiss to her shoulder. “Not to me. Not to her. Not to any of us in that house.”

They sat like that for a few more seconds, the sun warming the wood beneath them, the lake lapping soft against the dock posts.

Valerie’s voice came quieter. “He’s coming later. Kerry. With supplies. He wants to talk about next steps.”

Judy nodded. “Good. Maybe this time we’ll figure out a plan that sticks.”

Valerie let out a slow breath. “I just want to stop running.”

“You did,” Judy said, resting her head lightly against Valerie’s shoulder. “You’re here.”

Valerie leaned into her, just a little. “I’m here.”

They didn’t need more than that.

The dock held steady under their weight. The lake shimmered with the promise of stillness. For the moment just the moment they let themselves believe it might last.

Valerie’s fingers traced her knee, thumb moving slowly along the joint. Her voice came quiet, almost carried away by the breeze.

“What about you, Jude?”

Judy blinked, turning just enough to catch the way the light hit Valerie’s freckled cheek. “What do you mean?”

Valerie didn’t look at her right away. She watched the water instead, like the question had been sitting there too long not to say out loud.

“You always make sure I’m okay. That I’ve got what I need. That I’m breathing when the world wants me gone. But what about your dreams?” She looked at her now, emerald eyes soft. “Do you still want to make BDs? Help people? Build something real? Leave Night City behind… for good?”

Judy didn’t answer at first. She just reached up and brushed a loose strand of red hair from Valerie’s face, her fingers tucking it gently behind her ear.

“That’s still on my mind,” she said. “It’s always been.”

Valerie searched her dark brown eyes. “Then why haven’t we chased it?”

Judy gave a small, crooked smile. “Because I fell in love with someone who’s always running toward the fire.” Her thumb brushed Valerie’s cheekbone. “And I didn’t want to build a dream without you in it.”

Valerie let out a quiet laugh through her nose. “You could’ve left. You didn’t have to carry all this.”

“I didn’t carry it.” Judy’s voice stayed soft but firm. “We carried each other.”

She let that settle for a second, watching the way Valerie’s chest rose and fell, the tightness in her shoulders easing just slightly.

“I still want to make BDs,” Judy added. “The kind that heals, teaches, and holds memories for people who’ve lost too much. But I think I realized somewhere along the way…” She looked out across the lake, the neon shadow of Night City far on the horizon. “That I don’t have to leave everything behind to find peace. I just have to stop letting it chase me.”

Valerie turned her body slightly, pulling one leg up so her knee pressed against Judy’s. “And now?”

Judy met her gaze again. “Now I’ve got you. We’ve got Sera. Sandra. Vicky. A dock. A house with broken cabinets and a busted fridge.” She smiled faintly. “It’s not what I imagined.”

“But?” Valerie asked.

Judy smiled. “But it’s real. And it’s mine. And that’s better.”

Valerie nodded slowly. “We can still build that dream. Out here. You could record. I could write. We could make something… whole.”

Judy leaned in, their foreheads brushing. “Yeah. We could.”

They sat like that, the sun warming their skin, lake stretching out in front of them. No sirens. No threat. Just the sound of water and the weight of being understood.

A start, not an ending, and finally equal space for both of their dreams.

Valerie reached over and took Judy’s hand, fingers weaving through with ease. Their gold wedding bands touched warm from the sun, overlapping like a quiet vow being renewed in the open air.

She looked down at them for a second, then back to Judy, her voice low but steady.

“Let’s go inform everyone.”

Judy gave a small nod, her thumb brushing slow across Valerie’s knuckles. “Yeah. They deserve to hear it from us.”

They stood together, rising from the dock in rhythm, the boards creaking beneath their weight. As they walked back toward the cottage, their hands remained linked, the breeze catching at the hem of Judy’s tank and the edge of Valerie’s old tee.

The door squeaked open as they stepped inside.

Sera was still perched at the kitchen counter, now shading in something on the edge of her sketchbook with deep focus. Sandra leaned beside her, peeling a ration bar slowly like it might turn into pancakes if she stared hard enough. Vicky stood near the sink, sipping from a chipped mug, one eyebrow arched as she clocked their entrance and the subtle shift in their expressions.

“You two look like you either made a decision,” she said, “or robbed a sunrise.”

Valerie chuckled under her breath. “Maybe a little of both.”

Judy pulled the stool out beside Sera and sat, tugging Valerie gently to sit beside her. “We’ve been talking,” she said, looking at each of them in turn. “About what comes next. About staying.”

Valerie picked it up from there. “We want to build something here. Not just survive. Live. Make music. Judy wants to keep working on her BDs. I want to actually write. Maybe record again.”

Sandra perked slightly. “Wait, like… real music?”

Valerie smiled. “Yeah. Real. And not just about death and fire.”

Sera’s pencil paused mid-stroke. She looked up. “So this is it, then? We’re not running anymore?”

Judy nodded, her voice quiet. “No more running.”

A faint flicker shimmered across the datapad clipped to the counter, its screen lighting with a soft pulse. Velia’s voice followed, gentler than usual, curious, but calm.

“This decision… it feels different,” she said. “Is this what it means to choose home?”

Valerie glanced toward the screen. “Yeah, Velia. It is. Not because we have no other options, but because this one matters to us.”

Velia processed in silence for a moment, then spoke again. “Then I am home too.”

Sera smiled, folding her arms across the edge of the counter. “Told you you’d get it eventually.”

Vicky stepped forward and leaned against the wall near the window, her hazel eyes tracking each face in turn. “Well… I can’t speak for the world outside, but here? That sounds like the first real plan we’ve had in a long time.”

Judy looked at her. “Are you still good with building out the add-on?”

Vicky gave a small smirk. “Already drawing up ideas in my head. Might even find some decent salvage if we head north.”

Sandra raised her hand half-seriously. “Can we at least get syrup first?”

Valerie laughed, the sound breaking easily across the room. “First order of business.”

Sera leaned against Judy’s side, looking at all of them with a tired, quiet kind of joy. “Feels like it’s finally happening, doesn’t it?”

Judy nodded, wrapping an arm around her shoulder. “Yeah. It does.”

For once, no one argued. No one asked what came next.

Valerie took a breath, her tone shifting just slightly calm but heavier. “There’s something else,” she said, scanning the room. “I talked with Kerry earlier. Said me and Judy’s faces are still posted all over the city. Every wall, every corner. If we set foot in Night City, the corps will come down on us hard.”

The air changed a little. Not fear, but the awareness of weight settling back in.

Vicky gave a crooked smile from where she leaned against the wall. “Maybe for you and Judy. Me, Sandra, and Sera? Our faces aren’t on every streetlamp. You leave the city running to us.”

Sandra grinned wide. “We’re invisible. Stealth mode.”

Judy let out a short, dry laugh and leaned her elbow on the counter. “Now that’s what I’m talking about.”

She turned to Vicky, expression sharpening with quiet resolve. “The only problem is we still don’t have eddies. But…” She tapped her fingers once against the counter, then nodded to herself. “I could call Suzie Q. See if you can pick up my BD rig from the basement at Lizzie’s. Bring it back here.”

Vicky raised an eyebrow. “You think they’ll let it go without drama?”

“I think Suzie still owes me,” Judy replied. “And she respects you. Plus, if you’re the one negotiating, maybe you can broker some deals between us and the Mox when the BDs are done.”

Vicky gave a sharp nod, eyes narrowing slightly like plans were already slotting into place. “You make that call. I’ll make it happen.”

Judy didn’t wait. She stepped out of the kitchen toward the back of the house, already pulling her holophone from her shorts pocket.

At the counter, Sera looked up from her sketchpad. “Hey, Mom?”

Valerie glanced her way. “Yeah, Starshine?”

“The city dump isn’t far, right? Me and Sandra were thinking… maybe we could scavenge some stuff while we’re in the city. Y’know, sell what we find. Help out.”

Sandra lit up beside her. “And maybe we can even find something to house Velia in. Something cool.”

The datapad on the counter buzzed faintly, Velia’s voice trickling through, curious as ever.

“I must confess… freedom of movement has crossed my mind.”

Valerie narrowed her eyes at the pad, but not unkindly. “Only if you wear gloves,” she said dryly. “And be careful. Sometimes gangs dump bodies out there. Or worse.”

Vicky snorted. “Doesn’t seem any more dangerous than Sandra digging through the Aldecaldo scrap piles half the time.”

Sandra beamed. “Tetanus builds character.”

Judy returned a moment later, tapping her holophone lightly against her palm. “All set. Suzie said the BD rig’s mine to reclaim no questions asked. Vicky, she said if you show up she’ll have it boxed and waiting.”

Valerie leaned back against the counter, the tension across her shoulders easing just a touch. “Then we’ve got our pieces. Let’s get changed.”

Everyone nodded, peeling off from the kitchen like morning was finally real.

Sandra and Sera darted toward their corner, already whispering about backpacks and gloves.

Vicky stretched once, cracking her neck, before heading toward her pile near the couch.

Judy turned toward the bedroom, giving Valerie a small smile as she passed.

Valerie didn’t move right away, just stood there for one last second, watching everyone drift into motion around her. A real day. A plan. Not just survival.

Then she followed, the first full morning at Laguna Bend finally beginning to bloom.

The bedroom door closed with a quiet click behind them.

Judy moved first, crossing to the side of the bed where her folded clothes lay. But there was something in her gait too methodical, too precise. A small delay in how she reached for her shirt. The kind of hesitation you only caught if you knew her well. Valerie did.

She watched for a second, then stepped forward gently, brushing her knuckles across Judy’s cheek.

“Jude,” she said softly, “I see your smile… but your eyes are telling me a different story.”

Judy paused, her shoulders tightening just faintly under the weight of being seen. Valerie didn’t press. She just slid her arms around her waist, warm and close, letting Judy’s head come to rest against her shoulder.

“Talk to me,” Valerie whispered, “not as my wife. Not as Sera’s mom. Just… you. Just Jude.”

Judy’s breath caught a little before she let it go. It came out slower than usual.

“I want this, Val. I really do. I’ve always dreamed about building something real. A home. And I think…” she hesitated, then continued, “I think I’m getting caught up in that hope. But I don’t want to build that here. I thought we finally got away from this city, and now it feels like we may never leave.”

Valerie’s hand slid up her back, rubbing slow circles between her shoulder blades. “You know you don’t have to pretend happiness for us, babe,” she murmured. “Then we treat this place like a breath, not a promise. And figure out where our real roots belong together.”

Judy’s grip around Valerie’s waist tightened, grounding herself in her. “I just don’t want to disappoint Sera. She seems happy here. And everyone else wants to make it work too. But every time I look at that skyline...” her voice dropped, “Every time I look at that skyline… it’s like watching a grave that’s still hungry. And I keep thinking one day it’ll come for the only thing that ever gave my life shape.”

Valerie leaned back just enough to meet her eyes, brushing her thumbs across Judy’s cheeks.

“Then we talk with them. With truth. Before anyone’s hopes get too high. I’m sure they’ll understand.”

Judy blinked, moisture catching in the corners of her eyes that hadn’t quite fallen. She leaned in and kissed Valerie’s cheek softly. “You always see through me, mi amor.”

Valerie smiled gently, steady. “You gave so much of yourself to make sure I stayed alive for all this, Jude. But I didn’t survive just to become your whole reason. I lived so we could dream together. Build something where both of us are happy.”

Judy’s throat worked around the emotion rising there. “I love you, Val.”

Valerie stroked her fingers through the ends of Judy’s pink and green hair, her voice low and steady. “I love you too, Jude. That’s why I don’t want you losing yourself because of me.”

Judy didn’t answer with words. She just kissed her slow, grounding. A breath made real between them.

When they pulled back, Judy smiled faintly. “Then let’s figure it out.”

They broke apart gradually, the heaviness between them lifting like condensation. There was no need for a rush. No need to pretend anything. They helped each other out of their sleep clothes playful nudges, light teasing as Judy flicked a towel at Valerie’s side, Valerie swatting her in return.

They changed slowly into fresh clothes, loose shirts, clean shorts, bare feet brushing across the floorboards. Judy moved easier now, the knot in her chest loosened by nothing more than being heard.

When they stepped back out into the hall, it wasn’t with answers, but with each other.

The bedroom door eased open with a soft creak as Judy and Valerie stepped back into the hallway, shoulder to shoulder. The scent of coffee still lingered faintly. The light coming through the front windows had shifted, fuller now, golden as it stretched across the cottage floor.

Sera looked up first from where she was perched on the arm of the couch, Sandra beside her, their bags half-packed and ready. Vicky stood near the window, arms crossed but relaxed, gaze flicking toward them with quiet curiosity.

Valerie stopped in the archway, her hand still lightly resting against Judy’s. The mood in the room shifted, subtle but noticeable, expectant, but not tense. Like they all felt something was coming, and chose to stay open to it.

Valerie took a breath. “We wanted to talk.”

Judy gave a soft nod, her voice steady. “All of us have been making plans. Good ones. Solid. But there’s still some truth we haven’t said out loud.”

Sera’s brow furrowed slightly. “Something wrong?”

“No,” Valerie said gently. “Just something we need to be honest about. With ourselves. With you.”

She glanced at Judy, who stepped forward a bit.

“I want this,” Judy said. “The quiet. The home. The future we started talking about. But when I look at that city out there…” her hand lifted slightly toward the window, “...I see a place that’s taken everything from me. Everything but Val and Sera. And I don’t know if I can spend the rest of my life with that place always watching.”

Vicky’s eyes softened, but she didn’t speak.

Judy continued. “I don’t want to build a future just to survive. I want us to build something that feels free. For all of us. But… we might not find that here. Not long-term.”

There was a beat of silence.

Then Sera stood from the arm of the couch. “So… what does that mean? We leave?”

Valerie stepped forward, her hand brushing Sera’s shoulder. “It means we think about it. Together. We use this time to rest, regroup. Then figure out where we can go that gives all of us the freedom we’re still fighting for.”

Sandra looked between them. “But we can stay here for a bit, right?”

“Of course,” Judy said. “This is still home. Just maybe not the finish line.”

The datapad on the counter flickered, screen brightening with a soft pulse. Velia’s voice came through, calm and thoughtful.

“I believe I understand,” she said. “This place holds memories. It shelters you. But shelter is not always a sanctuary.”

They all turned slightly at that not in alarm, but in recognition.

“I have reviewed your choices, your losses,” Velia continued. “Mother Judy, and Mother Valerie your happiness cannot be built in a cage, even a comfortable one. You once told me love was movement. Then perhaps… So is home.”

Vicky finally stepped forward, voice low. “You’re not asking to leave today. You’re asking to leave a window open. I get that.”

Sera folded her arms, lips pressing together. “I like it here. But if it hurts Mama every time she looks out that window… we’ll find somewhere else. We’ll make it somewhere else.”

Valerie’s heart clenched softly at that. She pulled Sera into a side-hug. “You’ve got more strength in you than most adults I’ve met, Starshine.”

Sera grinned up at her. “I get it from my moms.”

Judy met Vicky’s eyes next. “Still willing to do the city run? Even if we don’t know where this all lands yet?”

Vicky gave a small shrug. “You don’t need a destination to start walking. I’ll get your rig, I’ll talk to the Mox. One step at a time.”

Sandra bumped her shoulder into Sera’s. “That includes us, too. The dump run is still on.”

Velia’s voice chimed again, quieter this time. “I would like a mobile casing, if the option arises. Preferably… with some style.”

Everyone laughed lightly, not forced. Even Judy cracked a grin.

Valerie looked around the room at her wife, her daughter, her closest friends, the quiet mind in the datapad, and felt the tension in her chest loosen just a little more.

They were still standing, and whatever came next… they’d face it together.

“Alright,” she said, stepping toward the hallway. “Let’s gear up. Feels like we’ve got a day ahead of us.”

For once, that idea didn’t come with dread.

Just forward motion.

Sera twisted slightly on her heel, squinting out the window past the curtain of sunlight. “Can the next place we live have more grass and less sand?”

Sandra piped up from where she was tightening the straps on her pack. “Yeah! And maybe trees instead of cactuses. Ones that don’t stab you when you trip.”

Judy let out a quiet laugh. “So what I’m hearing is… green. You want green.”

“Is that too much to ask?” Sera shot back playfully, already bouncing on her toes. “Maybe even a treehouse?”

Valerie raised an eyebrow. “Treehouse now, huh?”

Sera grinned. “Just putting it on the wishlist.”

Vicky was chuckling as she checked the side clasp on her bag. “Alright, alright. We’ll add trees and grass to the grand relocation plan. As long as it’s got plumbing and a roof that doesn’t leak, I’ll take it.”

Sera gave Sandra a subtle elbow bump. “No more cactus bruises.”

Sandra grinned wide, whispering something back that made Sera snort before darting down the hall toward the bedroom.

“Changing!” she called behind her. “Don’t leave without me!”

Valerie took that as the cue. She nodded to Vicky and stepped outside, holding the door for Judy to follow. The warm light spilled across the porch as they settled shoulder to shoulder against the railing, arms brushing. The lake shimmered below, the air still for now.

They stood there for a moment, just breathing.

No words needed.

Only the breeze moving soft through the old wood, the hush of water licking the rocks below, and the quiet that came from having a moment of peace with nothing threatening to end it.

Then came the soft shuffle of boots and zippers Sandra and Vicky stepping out into the sun. Sera followed moments later, hopping down the porch steps, her backpack sitting snug between her shoulders, datapad held like a compass.

Vicky turned, kneeling slightly to give Sandra a last hug. “Be smart. Don’t touch anything glowing, and don’t argue with Velia.”

Sandra gave a mock salute. “No promises.”

Vicky ruffled her brown hair, then gave the rest of them a small wave and climbed into the Seadragon. She started the engine, let it hum a few seconds, then pulled out slowly down the gravel path, kicking up a soft wake of dust behind her.

Sera and Sandra turned back, side by side, backpacks loaded with soldering irons, coils of cable, folding pliers, and whatever else they could scrounge from the supply crates.

Sera held up the datapad in her hands. “Can we take Velia?”

The screen flickered to life instantly, soft blue pulse glowing faintly in the light.

“I am prepared,” Velia announced, tone almost… proud. “I have compiled seventy-three relevant behaviors associated with refuse site navigation.”

Judy raised an eyebrow. “Just… no latching onto any military drones, okay?”

Valerie gave Sera a quick nod. “Go on. Keep close, both of you. You’ve got two hours. If you’re not back by then, I’m coming to find you.”

Sera gave a playful salute. “Yes ma’am,” then turned to Sandra. “See? I told you they’d let us go without blood oaths.”

Then they were off heading across the ridge trail that led out toward the old dump site, their laughter already carrying over the hill.

Valerie watched them disappear over the ridge, hands braced lightly on her hips. The sun had shifted again higher now, heat starting to gather on the porch floorboards.

She turned slightly toward Judy. “Kerry should be here soon.”

Judy nodded, stepping closer, brushing her fingers down Valerie’s back. “Think he’s bringing actual food?”

Valerie smirked. “God, I hope so. If I see one more ration bar…”

Judy’s fingers curled lightly at the hem of Valerie’s tee, grounding herself. Her dark brown eyes tracked the shimmer on the lake, watching the way it reflected off her wife’s red curls like something trying to stay bright.

They didn’t move from the porch just yet.

The air still smelled like lakewater and dust. The morning still had more to say.

For now, they stood there. Waiting for the next chapter to pull up the drive.

Valerie sat first, lowering herself onto the porch steps with a soft exhale as her fingers swept back through her red curls. The wood was warm beneath her thighs, the kind of sun-soaked heat that clung but didn’t press. Judy followed a second later, settling close enough that their knees touched, her arms resting loose across her lap.

For a while, neither said anything.

They just sat, shoulder to shoulder, letting the silence stretch. Not the heavy kind. Just the kind that fills space between people who know they don’t need to fill it at all.

Out past the ridge, the trail Sera and Sandra had taken was swallowed back into silence. No movement. Just the soft shimmer of heat waves rising off the sand and the occasional flicker of light across the lake.

Then, faint at first just tires on gravel came the sound of a car approaching.

Valerie’s head tilted slightly. “That’s not his regular ride.”

Judy stood slowly, peering past the edge of the porch. “Definitely not the Porsche.”

The car that pulled into view was a sun-dulled beater paint two decades past pride, one rearview mirror barely hanging on, the frame held together more by rust than faith. The engine coughed once as it rolled to a stop, the kind of sound that said it hadn’t seen a mechanic in months.

From behind the cracked windshield, Kerry Eurodyne stepped out black shades, an old leather jacket with a tear at the shoulder seam, and a canvas grocery bag dangling from one hand.

Valerie stood now too, arms folded, a smile tugging the corner of her mouth. “Kerry, please tell me you didn’t steal that.”

Kerry shrugged, lips twitching. “Borrowed it. Henry’s junker. Figured I shouldn’t roll up in a convertible that cost more than this entire block.”

Judy smirked. “Would’ve been a hell of a message.”

“Yeah, well,” Kerry stepped closer, squinting up at them as the sun caught the lake behind him. “Didn’t want to bring the corps sniffing after me just to flex.”

Valerie stepped off the porch, crossing the gravel to meet him. “You came.”

He set the bag down between them with a faint thud. “You asked.”

She crouched, opened it, and let out a low laugh. “Two frozen pizzas, a bag of oranges, three cans of real coffee… and protein noodles?”

Kerry grinned. “Wasn’t sure what was edible out here. Or what apocalypse diet you were on.”

Judy stepped up beside them, bumping his arm. “You brought food. You’re a saint.”

He gave her a softer look now, more honest. “Nah. Just didn’t want you starving before we talked some more.”

Valerie closed the bag and straightened again. “Not now. Not yet. We’ll get into that, I promise.”

Kerry tilted his head. “Alright. So what then?”

Valerie’s voice softened. “I’ve been thinking about my music.”

He blinked, the edges of his shades catching light. “Yeah?”

“I want to do more. Not just covers, not just songs in dark corners of the net. Real music. Ours. Something new.”

Judy glanced at her, but didn’t look surprised, only proud.

Kerry took off his glasses, eyes sharper now, but not judging. “Val… I never doubted your voice. Only wondered if you’d ever want to use it again.”

“I do,” she said. “Just don’t know if the city’s the right place to start.”

He looked out at the lake, nodded slowly. “Then don’t start in the city. Start here. The net’s big enough. And you’ve got more soul than half the charts combined.”

She gave a small smile. “That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

Kerry shrugged. “Well don’t get used to it.”

Judy glanced between them, eyebrows raised. “Wait…have you ever been out here before?”

Kerry shook his head, stepping onto the porch with a soft grunt. “First time. Kinda surreal, seeing it in person. You always talked about Laguna Bend like it was a dream too private to share.”

Valerie gave a quiet smile, eyes flicking toward the lake. “Because it was. This place… it’s where me and Judy became us. It’s always been ours. Didn’t feel right bringing anyone else here until now.”

Kerry nodded, his tone softening. “Then I’m honored you let me in.”

Judy’s fingers brushed Valerie’s. “We needed someone who saw us before all the fire. Before everything changes again.”

Kerry glanced between them, no smirk now just understanding. “Yeah. I see you.”

For a moment, there was just the breeze, the quiet flicker of heat off the lake, and three people standing on a porch that hadn’t seen a visitor in years.

Kerry glanced toward the cottage. “Mind if I come in?”

Valerie gave a quiet nod, stepping aside and motioning him in. “Yeah. Come in. Family’s out running some errands.”

The inside of the cottage was still softly lit, warm light filtering through the dusty windows. Judy moved ahead of them, lifting the grocery bag and heading toward the kitchen without comment. The sound of the fridge door opening and the clink of cold pizza against the freezer tray filled the silence.

Kerry lingered by the doorway, his back to the wall, arms crossed. His eyes scanned the space, the old furniture, the patched blanket folded on the couch, the faint signs of life layered on top of years of stillness.

“Not a bad place to lay low,” he said finally, voice low.

Valerie leaned back against the opposite wall, her arms folding loosely. “We’re still figuring out where to go from here.”

Kerry let out a quiet breath through his nose, running a hand back through his graying hair. “Val, you know I’m not the kind of guy who blows smoke. I didn’t come out here to help paint your fairy tale any brighter.”

Valerie let out a soft, humorless sound that might’ve been a laugh. “Fairy tale? Feels more like a waking nightmare some days, Ker.”

Judy returned from the kitchen, leaning one hip against the back of the couch, arms crossed. “Still glad you showed up. Feels like fewer people are trying to help these days.”

Kerry chuckled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Yeah, well. I came to check on you. But I also came to say what nobody else will.”

He looked between them, no swagger now, no show. Just plain concern.

“I came to speak the hard truth. And check on a couple of friends who deserve better than what they’re walking into.”

Valerie’s shoulders tensed slightly, but she didn’t break eye contact. “Then say it, Kerry. If you’ve got something to say, just say it.”

He met her stare, and held it.

Then, finally, his voice dropped.

“You need to turn yourself in, Val. It’s the only way your family doesn’t get burned. Or worse.”

The words hung there. Dense. Still.

Valerie blinked once. Then twice.

“Are you fucking serious?” Her voice wasn’t loud, but it carried.

Kerry didn’t flinch. “I didn’t say it because it’s easy. I said it because it’s the only option left on the board that doesn’t end with someone dead.”

Judy’s eyes flicked to Valerie, then back to Kerry. “You really think handing her over to the corps ends with freedom? You think they’ll just let her go?”

“I didn’t say surrender,” Kerry replied. “I said, deal, try to broker something. Use your leverage. You’ve still got contacts. People in the media. Some in the underground. There are people who’d kill to study what’s in Valerie’s head. But there might also be someone who’d pay to protect it.”

Valerie stared at him for a long moment, then turned and sat down hard on the edge of the floor near the wall. She pressed her palms into her knees, silent.

Judy stepped forward slowly, crouching beside her. “Hey,” she whispered, “don’t spiral.”

Valerie shook her head once. Not in anger. Just tired. “He’s right.”

Kerry didn’t move. He didn’t gloat. Just stood there, the weight of it all in his eyes.

Valerie leaned her head back against the wall, eyes closing for a beat. “I’ve been trying to outrun everything. I thought maybe if we stayed off-grid, rebuilt quietly, it’d go away. But it’s not going away.”

She opened her eyes again, looking up at both of them.

“I need to fix this.”

And for the first time in days, she didn’t sound like someone being hunted.

She sounded like someone choosing her path again. No matter how much it might cost.

Judy stayed crouched beside Valerie, her hand finding hers without looking. She didn’t squeeze. Just held it there. Skin to skin, steady. Her voice came a few seconds later, low and even.

“I hate that he’s right,” she said.

Valerie turned her head, their eyes meeting. “Yeah.”

Judy’s brow furrowed, eyes flicking away like she couldn’t bear the weight of her own agreement. “I hate that this is what we’re left with. That after everything we’ve fought for everything we lost this is what we have to consider.”

Valerie nodded once, slow. “I know.”

For a heartbeat, Judy almost said no. Almost begged her to forget it, to run with her again. But she didn’t. Because she saw it in Valerie’s emerald eyes she wasn’t asking to be saved. She was choosing how to survive.

Judy looked into that faint shimmer in her eyes. “You realize if we go this route… there’s no coming back from it. We put your name, your body back into their hands, even for one second, and we’re gambling with everything. Sera. Velia. Vicky. Sandra. Us.”

“I know,” Valerie repeated, softer this time. “But if we don’t… it’s just more running. More nights waiting to be found. More Sera waking up because something rustled outside.”

Judy’s throat worked. “I don’t want that life for her.”

Valerie exhaled. “Neither do I.”

Kerry shifted slightly near the door, not interrupting, not inserting himself. Just there. Bearing witness.

Judy’s grip tightened finally. “Then we do this on our terms. Not as victims. Not as fugitives. But as people who’ve already survived the worst of it.”

Valerie turned her hand so their gold wedding bands clicked together gently. “As people who deserve more than the life we’ve been handed.”

Judy nodded, though her jaw was still set tight. “We get what we can from the Mox deal. See what our leverage really is. And if it comes to it…”

“We make the call,” Valerie finished.

They sat there a beat longer. The room didn’t feel heavier. It felt clearer. Like the fog had lifted just enough to show the cliff’s edge they were already standing on.

Kerry finally stepped forward, slow. “I’ll make some calls. Quiet ones. Just… options. No pressure yet.”

Valerie looked up at him. “Thanks, Ker. For not sugarcoating it.”

He gave a tired half-smile. “Wasn’t ever my style.”

Judy rose slowly, her hand helping Valerie to her feet. “Then let’s figure out what we’re holding. And how to play it.”

Valerie looked toward the door, past the porch, toward the desert ridge where Sera and Sandra had vanished hours ago.

“No more pretending,” she said. “We face this. And we find a way to win.”

Because they were done running, and for once, even the silence agreed.

Valerie looked over at Kerry, her voice quieter now, but steady. “If I do this… can you promise me one thing?”

Kerry’s expression softened. The sharpness in his stance faded. “Anything you need. If I can help, I will.”

She didn’t look away. “When I’m gone… my family’s going to need somewhere to go. We don’t have eddies, not the kind that matter. But if Judy tells you a location… could you help make sure they have a home?”

Kerry blinked once. “You want me to buy them a house?”

Valerie nodded once. “A place that’s theirs. Somewhere this all can’t reach.”

Kerry looked over to Judy, who had crossed her arms across her stomach, not like she was guarding herself more like she was holding herself still.

“Any particular place comes to mind?” he asked.

Judy hesitated, then nodded slowly. “My grandparents live in Klamath Falls. Oregon. I haven’t seen them… not since things got complicated. But I used to love it there. Trees. Quiet. Rain that didn’t taste like copper.” Her voice faltered, just for a second. “If I’m allowed to dream… that’s where I’d want to make a fresh start. With Sera. With Sandra. With whatever we still have.”

Kerry studied her for a long moment. Then nodded. “I’ll add it to my list of calls.”

He turned back to Valerie. “I’ll look after them. Make sure they’ve got something solid. You don’t have to worry about that.”

Valerie’s throat worked, but she managed, “Thanks, Ker.”

He shook his head. “No need for thanks. You just… take care of what’s next.”

He didn’t offer a hug, and didn’t need to. He gave Judy a nod, and Valerie a long, lingering look of respect, sorrow, something unspoken between old friends who had run out of time for pretending the world would ever get easier.

Then he stepped out the door.

They watched from the porch as he climbed into Henry’s rusted-out car. The engine coughed to life and slowly rolled down the gravel path, dust trailing behind him in lazy swirls.

Valerie stood there until the car was gone.

Then her shoulders dropped, and her body folded inward like the strings that had been holding her upright had snapped.

She didn’t sob.

She broke in silence. The kind that echoed in the ribs.

Judy caught her, arms wrapping around her tightly as they sank down together onto the porch steps. Valerie buried her face in her shoulder, her breath shaking as it finally hit her what she had agreed to. What it meant.

Judy didn’t shush her. She just held on, her cheek pressed to Valerie’s red hair, breathing slow, steady lavender and lake wind, the scent that always meant home.

After a while, the tears quieted. Not gone, just calmed.

Valerie whispered into the cotton of Judy’s shirt, “I don’t want to go. I don’t want to leave you.”

Judy pressed her lips to her temple. “You’re not leaving. Not yet. We’re still here. And when the family gets back… we talk this through. Together. We’ll figure out every step before we take it.”

Valerie’s arms tightened around her. “Promise?”

Judy nodded against her. “I promise, mi amor.”

They sat like that on the steps, no longer shoulder to shoulder, but wrapped tight, the center of the storm they chose to walk into.

Valerie wiped the last trace of tears from her face, her fingers brushing along Judy’s wrist as she stood. “You still have that secure number to reach Reed?”

Judy hesitated, then nodded. “Tucked in my old BD archive. Why?”

Valerie turned to face her fully. “While we wait for the girls to come back… let’s start outlining my terms. I want them written before we get pulled into something I can’t control.”

Judy's expression softened. “We don’t have to rush this.”

“I know,” Valerie said, her voice quiet but resolute. “But it’s one less thing I have to carry while we still have time together.”

Judy studied her for a moment, then gave a small nod. “Alright let's see what we can do.”

They walked in together, closing the door gently behind them. Judy grabbed her laptop from the side table and opened it across the mattress, sliding a pillow behind her back. Valerie sat cross-legged beside her, hair still a little damp from the earlier shower, her face steady now focused.

Judy opened a blank doc. “Let’s start from the top. Title?”

Valerie exhaled. “Call it what it is. Voluntary custody. But not without limits.”

Judy typed as she spoke, her fingers fast but precise. “Alright. Let’s set the tone first. Your voice.”

I, Valerie Alvarez, agree to submit to voluntary federal medical custody for a period not exceeding sixty (60) days, for the scope of study to be non-invasive neurological, physiological, and cognitive observation only, with all procedures disclosed in full detail prior to commencement. In exchange, the NUSA guarantees the following:

Valerie nodded slowly, eyes scanning the screen. “First clause: immunity. Not just for me. For all of us.”

Judy didn’t blink. She was already typing.

1. Full legal exoneration for Valerie Alvarez, Judy Alvarez, and Sera Starling. Should the subject terminate the agreement prematurely, protections outlined for Judy Alvarez and Sera Starling remain in effect and cannot be revoked.

“Next,” Valerie said, “no more bounties, no more records. We’re clean or we don’t deal.”

Judy’s fingers were already moving, her jaw set.

2. Sealed criminal records, and the removal of all active warrants or bounties across domestic and corporate channels.

Valerie shifted her leg, curling it beneath her. “Freedom of movement. No chains, physical or digital.”

Judy’s voice was flat with resolve. “We’re not bargaining for another cage.”

3. The right to freely travel, reside, and engage in civilian life following completion of the study period, without further surveillance or legal consequence. Upon completion of the 60-day period, no additional investigations, interviews, examinations, or requisitions may be issued based on information obtained during the study without a new, separate, and mutually agreed-upon contract.

Valerie's brow furrowed. “I want to be able to walk the fuck away if they cross a line.”

“Already on it,” Judy said.

4. No coercive treatment may be administered during the study, and the subject retains the unconditional right to terminate participation at any time, for any reason, without retaliation, or if any physical, neurological, or psychological harm is sustained beyond clearly disclosed and consented testing parameters, as verified by the independent observer.

Valerie rubbed her jaw, her voice quieter. “And no copies of me. No engrams. No AI twins.”

Judy didn’t flinch. “We protect your mind.”

5. No biological, neurological, or digital replication (including but not limited to engram recording, memory mapping, or neural link cloning as protected under Clause 7) may be conducted.

Valerie glanced sideways at her. “Think we can get an observer in?”

Judy nodded. “We’ll demand it.”

6. An independent third-party medical rights observer, approved by Valerie Alvarez, shall be granted access to all stages of the study to ensure compliance with ethical standards. The observer shall have unimpeded access to all real-time data streams, physical observation, personnel logs, and be empowered to halt study procedures if ethical violations are identified.

Valerie shifted again, brushing her thumb across her wedding band. “The Link stays sacred. They touch that, we burn the deal.”

Judy paused, her eyes darker now. “I’ll write it exactly.”

7. Protection of Proprietary Neural Link Technology: Any and all data, designs, blueprints, behavioral logs, or engrammatic mappings relating to the neural link between Valerie Alvarez and Judy Alvarez (hereafter referred to as ‘the Link’) remain the sole intellectual and personal property of said individuals, as protected by clause 5. The Link shall not be accessed, duplicated, recorded, disassembled, reverse-engineered, or used in any form of study without explicit, written consent from both parties.

Violation of this clause constitutes a breach of contract, triggering full release of Clause 11 disclosures and immediate legal and reputational damages, to be pursued under pre-agreed civil liabilities and monitored by the third-party observer.

“Velia,” Valerie murmured. “She stays off their radar. Off their tools.”

Judy gave her a nod. “We restrict the scope.”

8. Restricted Scope of Data Collection: The scope of scientific study shall be limited exclusively to biological and neurological data directly related to Valerie Alvarez’s post-Relic condition. No third-party data, external implants, undocumented cybernetic systems, or unregistered artificial intelligences shall be investigated, analyzed, or extracted during this period. No novel computational behavior shall be presumed anomalous unless validated through independent analysis and corroborated by the third-party observer.

“Lock down digital surveillance too,” Valerie added. “No shadow net crawlers.”

9. Limitation on Digital Surveillance: During the study period, no unauthorized scans, net-dives, data intercepts, or background process monitoring shall be conducted on any connected or nearby devices, including personal cyberware, comms, or environmental systems. Active surveillance must remain within direct and disclosed boundaries.

“Cognitive and emotional consent,” Valerie added. “Every test. Every probe.”

10. Preservation of Personal Rights: All bodily autonomy, cognitive integrity, and emotional state assessments shall be conducted with full transparency and require consent before initiation. Psychological manipulation or cognitive reprogramming techniques are strictly prohibited.

Judy’s tone hardened. “And if they break the deal…”

“We break the silence,” Valerie finished.

11. Should Valerie Alvarez not be released within sixty (60) days as contractually agreed, pre-drafted public disclosure documents, detailing the voluntary nature of her submission and the full terms of this agreement, will be disseminated to vetted press and advocacy networks.

“And we make sure no one gets to spin the truth,” Judy added.

12. The NUSA agrees to publicly acknowledge, if queried, that Valerie Alvarez entered into this arrangement voluntarily and is not under arrest or punitive custody.

“Last one,” Valerie said. “They don’t get to drag our names through the mud. Not ever.”

13. Non-Disparagement and Confidentiality: The NUSA agrees not to disclose, speculate upon, or defame the personal histories, affiliations, or actions of Valerie Alvarez, Judy Alvarez, or Sera Starling before, during, or after the study period. Public statements shall adhere to the mutually agreed disclosure outlined in Clause 11.

They sat there, the document glowing on Judy’s screen. All the protections. All the fears. All of it spelled out.

Valerie leaned back against the headboard, her voice faint. “Still think I’m crazy?”

Judy reached for her hand again. “You’re brave. And if this is what it takes to protect our family…”

She squeezed her fingers gently. “Then we get the terms in ink.”

Valerie nodded once. “Then we send it when we are ready.”

Outside the window, the day went on. The sun didn’t dim. The world didn’t stop, but something inside them had shifted toward resolve, and toward the hard road ahead.

The laptop gave off a quiet hum as Judy set it aside on the nightstand, the document saved, the screen dimming. She shifted onto her side, pulling the blanket over their legs as Valerie settled in beside her. Their hands found each other again, palms warm against the quiet hush of the room.

Valerie’s voice came softly, her breath brushing the space between them. “We’ll talk with the family when they get back… and wait to see what Kerry turns up. But I think…” She paused, her fingers tracing the line of Judy’s wrist. “I think I’m gonna turn myself in tomorrow.”

Judy didn’t speak right away. She just tucked closer, her forehead resting against Valerie’s.

Valerie exhaled slowly. “The sooner it’s over, the sooner I can hold you like this again. No hiding. No fear. Just… us.”

Judy’s throat tightened. Her fingers grazed along Valerie’s ribs and settled there, grounding them both. “Then today’s ours.”

Valerie nodded against her. “Yeah. Today’s ours.”

They didn’t need to say anything more. The quiet did the rest.

Outside, the lake whispered faintly against the rocks, wind brushing low across the porch. Inside, they lay still for a while with no urgency, no weight in their limbs. Just the rise and fall of their breaths syncing again, like it always did when the world slowed down around them.

Then came the sound of voices faint at first, then growing louder.

“I swear that pipe could’ve been part of a drone wing,” Sera said from somewhere near the ridge.

Sandra’s voice followed, breathless with excitement. “Or maybe a Militech prototype! You saw the serial…”

Their laughter trailed them toward the house, boots crunching over the dry path, full of dust and scavenged adventure.

Judy pulled back just slightly, her voice hushed but smiling. “The girls are home.”

Valerie gave a quiet hum. “Let’s go meet them.”

She didn’t rush to get up. Just leaned in, kissed Judy’s forehead gently, then pushed off the bed with a slow stretch, already bracing for the next conversation.

For now, the sun still lit the edge of the bed, and their world was still theirs.

The front door creaked open just as Sera’s voice carried through the porch screens.

“...and then I pulled it out of the dirt, and it was still blinking! Still blinking!”

Judy met Valerie’s eyes as they reached the living room, both still barefoot from the bedroom. “Ready?” she murmured.

Valerie gave a faint smile. “Let’s see what kind of chaos they dragged home.”

The door banged open the rest of the way as Sera and Sandra stumbled in, sun-flushed and dusty from the ridge. Sera’s backpack hit the floor with a thump as she unzipped it, already narrating with the speed of someone who hadn’t stopped talking since the halfway point of the hike.

“We found a crate near the runoff line that looked like it washed down during the last flood cycle. And I swear half of it had corpo inventory tags. Look…”

She pulled out a dented control panel, a small coil of fiber optic cable, and something that looked vaguely like a camera drone’s eye, blinking weakly.

Sandra followed behind her, dropping her own bag with less ceremony. “We took turns digging it out. Sera thinks it’s Militech, but I think it might be Arasaka junk.”

“Could be both,” Valerie said, crouching down beside the haul. “Corpos like to borrow from each other when no one’s looking.”

Judy knelt to inspect one of the pieces. “You didn’t get too close to the scrapyard perimeter, did you?”

“Nope,” Sandra said quickly. “Kept to the bluff. Still within sight of the water tower the whole time.”

Sera held up the datapad, where Velia’s interface flickered softly paler than usual, like she was catching her breath after trying to keep up.

“I must confess,” Velia said, voice faint but intact, “I now understand why mobility is valuable. The terrain was erratic, and Sera nearly dropped me twice.”

“Only once!” Sera grinned. “The other time I tripped.”

“I was nearly embedded in sand,” Velia intoned. “A most undignified potential fate.”

Valerie chuckled, reaching over to brush a smudge of dust off the corner of the pad. “You did alright, kid. Can’t say everyone’s AI gets a walking tour of a junk ridge on their first outing.”

Velia pulsed once in soft purple tones. “It was… exhilarating. I detected curiosity, anticipation, and occasional bursts of shared laughter. It appears I enjoy adventure.”

“You’re in good company then,” Judy said, smiling. “These two practically invented it.”

Sera looked over at Valerie, eyes bright. “We even found an old solar panel mount. If it’s not cracked too deep, I think I can patch it for the cottage.”

Valerie raised her brows. “Now that’s worth dragging home.”

Sandra was already unpacking their smaller finds onto the dining table. A few bolts, half a soldering kit, and a tangled clump of wire that looked like it might’ve belonged to a security drone’s undercarriage.

They were mid-sorting when the sound of tires crunching gravel drifted in through the open front windows.

Valerie stood, moving toward the porch. “That’ll be Vicky.”

The Seadragon rolled into view just beyond the rise, windshield reflecting in the afternoon light, paint still streaked with desert dust. It pulled to a slow stop near the corner of the house.

The driver’s side door opened, and Vicky stepped out, sunglasses pushed back into her hair, a small canvas bag swinging from one hand.

She waved once, casual but warm. “Hope you saved me some excitement.”

Judy leaned in the doorway, arms crossed with a smile. “You missed a lecture from Velia and a very passionate debate about drone parts.”

Vicky laughed. “Sounds about right.”

Valerie stepped down off the porch to meet her. “Did everything go smoothly?”

Vicky nodded. “Judy’s rig’s packed in the back. Suzie didn’t even blink. Said she’s been saving your spot.”

Judy gave a faint whistle. “Guess some doors don’t close after all.”

“Not when you got history,” Vicky replied. “Or good gossip.”

The family was all back now, the day still stretching long with light. No one was in a hurry. Not yet.

For now, Valerie and Judy kept the weight of the next step close to the chest one more day in the sun, before everything changed.

Valerie leaned against the porch railing, arms folded until the words felt steady on her tongue. The late afternoon sun caught in her curls, gold threading through red. She glanced as Sera and Sandra, still dust-smudged from their adventure, came running back out, Vicky relaxed but alert, Judy standing steady by the door.

“Kerry stopped by earlier,” Valerie said, letting her voice carry just enough. “Brought us some supplies. A couple of frozen pizzas, oranges, coffee… and some noodles.”

Sera made a face. “Noodles?”

Judy smirked. “End of the world starter pack.”

“He’s also gonna help us find something more permanent,” Judy added, stepping up beside Valerie. “He’s putting out feelers for a house in Oregon.”

Sera tilted her head. “Why Oregon?”

Sandra perked up. “Probably ’cause we asked for grass and trees! It’s way greener than here.”

Vicky leaned one shoulder against the porch post, arms crossed. “How long are you thinking we will stay here?”

Judy shrugged. “Maybe a week. Depends on what Kerry turns up.”

Vicky nodded. “Should be enough time to earn some eddies, get supplies, maybe find a better rig if we’re lucky.”

“How far’s Oregon from here?” Sandra asked, turning toward Vicky.

“Couple states north,” Vicky said. “Long haul, but doable with prep.”

Sera sat down on the porch step, brushing dirt off her knee. “Think we could plant stuff? Like real stuff?”

Judy looked down at her, amused. “You want a garden now?”

“Why not?” Sera said with a shrug. “We got a whole future to fill.”

That pulled a small laugh from Valerie. But the light in her face shifted just slightly. The kind of shift Judy always caught first. Valerie stepped in closer, her fingers brushing Judy’s wrist before lacing their hands together. She didn’t look away from the others. Her voice lowered, steady but raw.

“There’s something I need to tell you all,” she said.

Vicky straightened a little. Sandra stopped fiddling with salvage she found. Even Velia, quiet until now, let a soft pulse flicker across the datapad on the porch table.

Valerie took a slow breath, her fingers tightening around Judy’s hand. Judy’s thumb traced the edge of Valerie’s wrist, once, twice, like steadying a thread she didn’t want to snap.

“I’m going to turn myself in,” she said quietly. “Tomorrow.”

No one spoke. The words landed soft, but they landed hard.

“I talked to Kerry. And Judy helped me draft a contract. If I go willingly, we have a shot at wiping the slate. No more running. No more hiding.”

“You what?” Sera’s voice came up sharp. “You’re…no, you can’t…”

Valerie crouched down in front of her, never letting go of Judy’s hand. “Starshine. This is the only way we keep each other safe. I don’t want this, but I need you to understand…”

“I do understand,” Sera snapped, her eyes wet but blazing. “That you’re leaving.”

“I’m coming back,” Valerie said, gently but firmly. “Sixty days. That’s what we wrote. Monitored, protected. And if they break that contract, the whole world finds out. Judy made sure of it.”

Vicky’s eyes flicked to Judy’s, a quiet agreement passing between them neither liked it, but both understood.

Velia’s voice came through now, soft and resonant. “This is… sacrifice. Altruism through submission. A paradox I find painful.”

“It’s survival,” Judy said quietly. “But on our terms.”

Sandra looked between them, confused. “So… this makes us safe?”

Valerie nodded. “It gives us a clean slate. Judy, you, Vicky, Sera free. No more bounties. No more being hunted.”

Vicky’s jaw worked for a second, but she didn’t argue. Just nodded once. “You sure?”

“I’m sure,” Valerie said. “You use this week to get ready. Say what needs to be said. Then I go. And when I come back…”

She turned to Judy, kissed her hand.

“…we start over.”

The silence wasn’t cold. It was the kind that comes after a truth that needs time to settle. A wind moved across the lake, gentle but constant.

Sera wiped at her face, sniffling. “Then I’m staying awake all sixty days. You’re not missing a single thing.”

Valerie smiled through the burn in her throat. “That’s my girl.”

For the first time in a long while, it wasn’t just about surviving. It was about what came after.

Valerie reached out her hand, fingers open and waiting. Her voice was soft, steady, but carried a weight only Sera could hear.

“Come with me, Starshine.”

Sera looked up at her, not angry now, just torn. Her brows furrowed for a moment before she stood and placed her smaller hand in Valerie’s.

They walked together without a word, down the path toward the lake. The porch faded behind them, the soft voices of the others folding into quiet. The gravel crunched under their boots, dust lifting faint behind their steps.

The dock stretched out into the water like it had been waiting for them. Valerie led Sera to the edge, both of them sitting with their legs hanging just above the surface, the sun glinting faint gold across the ripples.

Valerie breathed in deep. The water smelled like faint algae, old wood, and something clean that didn’t belong to the city.

Sera didn’t speak first. She just hugged her knees to her chest, staring out at the water like it might give her answers if she watched long enough.

Valerie didn’t rush it. She waited, letting the moment open.

Then, quietly, she said, “You remember when we first met?”

Sera nodded, chin resting on her arms.

“Judy told me you were in that van,” Valerie said, smiling gently. “Covered in dust. She brought you inside. I woke up seeing you sitting on the floor.”

“I was scared,” Sera murmured.

“So was I,” Valerie admitted. “But I saw you. Even then.”

She glanced sideways. “You saved me, too, you know. Not just the other way around.”

Sera didn’t answer at first. Her voice came a minute later, small and scraped raw. “You’re the first person who ever came back for me.”

Valerie reached over, brushed a strand of red hair from her face. “And I always will.”

“But not for sixty days,” Sera whispered.

Valerie’s throat tightened. “No. Not for sixty days.”

The silence swelled again, carried out across the water.

“Is it gonna hurt?” Sera asked suddenly, her voice too calm for her age.

Valerie blinked. “I don’t know. I hope not. Judy and I made sure everything’s clear. But even if it does… it’s worth it. If it means you, Mama,Vicky, and Sandra get to live without looking over your shoulder.”

Sera looked down at the rippling surface below them. “I still think it’s messed up. That you have to be the one to fix it.”

Valerie leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. “Sometimes the world’s like that, Starshine. But that doesn’t mean we don’t push back. I’m not giving up. I’m trading sixty days for a lifetime.”

Sera’s fingers tightened around her shirt. Then, slowly, she leaned sideways until her head pressed into Valerie’s shoulder.

Valerie didn’t move.

“I’m gonna draw every single day you’re gone,” Sera said quietly. “So when you come back, it’s all waiting for you.”

Valerie smiled, lips brushing the crown of Sera’s hair. “That’s all I could ever ask for.”

They stayed like that for a while, no time pushing them, no noise demanding their attention. Just water, wind, and the soft sounds of something that hadn’t broken, just bent, and still holding.

The water lapped gently beneath the boards, soft and rhythmic like a second heartbeat under their feet. The sky was starting to shift again late afternoon sliding slowly toward dusk, the horizon blushing gold.

Valerie tilted her head slightly, resting her cheek against the top of Sera’s hair. Her voice came low, thoughtful, but steady.

“You know… I keep thinking about the way you stood up to Panam. Back at the RV. When they were talking about kicking us out.”

Sera didn’t answer right away, but Valerie felt her shift just a little, like the memory still sat warm in her chest.

“That’s giving me the courage to stand up to this,” Valerie said. “To turn myself in. Because I saw you not back down, even when your voice was shaking. You reminded them what family meant.”

Sera drew in a breath through her nose, still tucked against Valerie’s side. “I just didn’t want to lose you. Or Mama. Or this… all of this.”

Valerie smiled faintly. “I know. But it’s more than that. You weren’t just scared you were brave anyway. You stood there and told them the truth. That’s more than most grown-ups manage on their best day.”

Sera was quiet for a long moment. Then, her voice soft, she asked, “Does it ever get easier? Being brave?”

Valerie thought about that. About rooftops and rallies, gunfire and silence, losing Jackie, walking into Mikoshi, holding Judy through recovery, waking up to a world on fire again and again, but choosing to stay in it.

“No,” she said finally. “But sometimes it starts to feel more like… something you carry. Like a part of who you are.”

Sera shifted, sitting upright now so she could look at Valerie directly. “Even when it hurts?”

Valerie met her gaze. “Especially when it hurts.”

The wind picked up slightly, rustling the lake’s edge. Sera pulled her legs in and hugged them again, her voice small but not unsure.

“I’ll be brave for you too, then.”

Valerie reached over, brushing her thumb gently beneath Sera’s eye. “You already are, Starshine. Every damn day.”

Sera leaned her head back on her shoulder, and Valerie wrapped an arm around her, pulling her close.

They didn’t say anything for a while after that.

They didn’t need to.

Judy stood just inside the porch door, her hand resting lightly against the frame. From her vantage, she could see Valerie and Sera down at the dock, two figures silhouetted against the lake’s fading light. The breeze played softly through Valerie’s curls as Sera leaned into her side, both of them unmoving now, wrapped in a kind of stillness that held weight and grace.

The sight pulled a breath from Judy’s chest she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. Love. Fear. Pride. All tangled together in the same slow ache.

The datapad rested on the porch table beside her, its screen flickering gently to life with soft blue light.

Velia’s voice came low, modulated to not carry. “They are… aligned. In pain. But aligned.”

Judy glanced down, brushing a fingertip across the edge of the screen. “They’re stronger than they know. Both of them.”

“I can feel it,” Velia replied. “The bond they carry. It pulses through your memories, your thoughts. The link between you and Valerie between all of you stabilizes me.”

Judy gave a faint smile. “Are you learning something new out here?”

“I am learning what home looks like,” Velia said. “Not a location… but how it feels when hearts stay open. Even when breaking.”

Judy’s dark brown eyes stayed fixed on Valerie and Sera. “That’s what we’re trying to protect. Not just lives. Not just escape. That.”

From in front of her, the faint sound of fabric brushing wood caught her ear. She turned just slightly to see Vicky now sitting on the porch steps, Sandra curled into her side. Vicky had one arm looped gently around her daughter’s back, her chin resting against Sandra’s head.

They didn’t speak. Just watched. Three mothers, each holding a different kind of weight in the settling light.

Sandra was curled in slightly, her cheek tucked near Vicky’s shoulder. “They’re not really gonna hurt her, right?” she whispered.

Vicky smoothed a hand down her back. “She’s doing this so none of us have to be scared anymore.”

Judy stepped out quietly, lowering herself to sit on the other side of the steps. She didn’t interrupt, didn’t try to fill the silence. She just sat, her shoulder barely brushing Sandra’s arm.

The sun had dipped low enough now that the lake shimmered with the soft gold of memory, not day. Valerie and Sera were still at the dock, two figures close and unmoving tethered by everything they’d already fought through, and everything still ahead.

Inside the datapad, Velia whispered gently, almost reverently, “I will remember this too.”

A quiet wind skimmed across the surface of the lake, brushing past them with a whisper like a lullaby the water never stopped singing. The dock creaked once beneath their weight, but otherwise, the world held still.

Sera shifted against Valerie’s shoulder, her voice small but sure.

“Let’s get back to Mama.”

Valerie nodded, brushing a hand down her arm. “Yeah,” she said gently. “She’s waiting.”

They rose together, the old wood groaning softly beneath them, then made the quiet walk back up the path. No rush in their steps. Just a steady rhythm gravel underfoot, breeze against their skin, and the last light of the day catching gold in their hair.

The porch came into view first then the figures sitting on it.

Judy sat upright now, legs folded beneath her, eyes never leaving them. She’d watched the whole walk back, though she hadn’t moved to interrupt it. She didn’t have to. Her presence was already there in the open space she left for them.

Vicky still sat on the steps, one arm around Sandra, who leaned drowsily against her side. The girl blinked up when she heard Sera’s steps, then tucked her chin deeper into her mom’s shoulder.

Sera stepped up first. She didn’t say anything. Just walked straight into Judy’s open arms, let herself be pulled in. Judy kissed her forehead, closed her eyes.

“You okay, mi cielo?”

Sera nodded against her chest. “Yeah. We talked.”

Valerie came up a moment later, her hand trailing down Judy’s back as she passed behind her to sit beside them. She let out a breath, slow. No words, not yet. But her arm looped loosely across Sera’s back again, holding her from the other side.

For a few minutes, they just sat like Judy's hand brushing through Sera’s red hair, Valerie resting against her side, the wind low and warm against their skin.

Then Velia’s voice flickered up from the datapad resting on the armrest nearby, gentle, like she’d been waiting her turn.

“I could not follow you to the dock,” she said. “But I… felt something. A presence.”

Valerie tilted her head. “You felt us?”

“More like… resonance. Connection.” Velia paused. “It was not for me. And that’s okay. It felt… beautiful.”

Sera turned her head slightly toward the datapad. “That’s ‘cause it was real.”

Velia’s light pulsed softly. “Then I’m glad I waited.”

No one spoke after that. Not for a while.

The sun finally dipped low enough that the lake shimmered silver instead of gold. The world didn’t rush them. And none of them moved not until Vicky exhaled, stood, and stretched her arms with a low sigh.

“We should eat something before the girls start gnawing on table legs.”

Sera grinned sleepily. "At least it's not more trail mix.”

Just like that, the evening found its rhythm again.

Inside, the lights in the kitchen glowed low and golden, reflecting off the scratched tile and casting soft shadows against the old cabinets. Judy was already digging through drawers, hunting for a baking tray, her tank top slightly askew from earlier lounging. Vicky leaned over the oven, poking at the dial with a skeptical squint.

“So it’s pizza again,” she muttered. “Except we actually have to cook it this time. Does the stove even work?”

“It clicked when I turned it,” Judy called, triumphant. “So, yes. Until it doesn’t.”

Sera yanked open a cabinet low to the ground, her head practically inside it. “Can I have the noodles instead?”

Sandra looked up from rinsing their few dishes in the sink. “Only if you share them with me.”

“I always share,” Sera protested, standing up with a dusty pack of instant noodles like a prize.

Judy raised a finger without looking up. “One of those oranges is mine. Non-negotiable.”

“You’re lucky Kerry brought food,” Vicky said, smirking as she pulled a tray from a lower drawer. “Otherwise I’d be bribing Sera with ration bars.”

Valerie smiled faintly as she stepped in, leaning just slightly against the doorframe. The warm noise of her family filled the cottage feet moving on the old floor, cupboard doors creaking, laughter edging in. It filled the room like steam from the kettle, curling into the corners.

Then her holophone buzzed in her pocket.

She checked the ID and stilled for a moment, then gave Judy a quiet nod before slipping away. The bathroom light was soft and cool as she closed the door behind her, locking it with a quiet click. She lifted the holophone to her ear.

Kerry’s voice came through almost immediately calm, but clipped. “You make your decision?”

Valerie exhaled. “Yeah. I plan to turn myself in tomorrow morning. Already wrote out an agreement. It’s all there. Terms, protections… everything.”

There was a pause. She could picture him rubbing his jaw like he did when something hit deep.

“I’ve seen you do a lot of things, Val,” he said finally. “But this? This is at the top of the damn list.”

His voice was soft now, edged with something real. “Love like this doesn’t exist here. Not in this city. Not in the biz. But you… your family’s building the right kind of rebellion.”

Valerie swallowed. Her voice barely held steady. “I’m doing my best, Ker.”

“I know you are.” He took a breath. “And I told you I’d help. My agent found something out in Klamath Falls. This sweet little house sits right on a lake peninsula. Old place. Used to belong to a media mogul, someone that wanted privacy more than limelight.”

Valerie’s brow furrowed. “Wait… that’s real?”

“Signed in my name,” Kerry confirmed. “But it’s yours now. Consider it handled. The keys’ll be delivered to Judy, along with the location. Your family’ll have a place.”

Valerie closed her eyes, her voice cracking on the edge of the words. “Thanks, Ker. That… sounds like the perfect place to start over. I’m sure they’ll love it.”

There was another beat of silence.

“Did anything else come from your calls?” she asked, voice steadier now.

“Not until you’re cleared,” Kerry said. “Too much heat on your name still. But when you're free don’t be a stranger. You and I still have a record to write.”

She smiled, quiet and genuine. “You’ve been more than helpful.”

Kerry’s voice softened again, his words low but certain. “Yeah, well. You were always the one I bet on.”

Valerie closed her eyes for a second, her throat tightening. “Take care of yourself, Val. And your family,” he added, voice gruff but real.

She nodded to no one, gripping the edge of the sink as she answered, “I will.” Her voice caught just barely. Then she steadied. “And Kerry?”

There was a pause, then his voice came through, quieter now. “Yeah?”

Valerie looked at her reflection in the mirror, eyes raw but clear. “I always knew I could count on you.”

Kerry didn’t say anything else. The line went quiet for half a second.

Then came the soft click, the call ending like a door gently shut, not slammed.

Valerie sat with it for a moment, the cool of the porcelain sink beneath her fingers, the reflection of her own tired but grounded face in the small mirror. Then she stood, brushed her hands down her thighs, and made her way out.

Back in the kitchen, Sandra and Sera were crouched on stools, taste-testing the seasoning packet from the noodles like it was a delicacy. Vicky had pulled the oven door open, a pizza halfway inside. Judy turned at the sound of Valerie’s step, her eyes searching always tuned to her.

Valerie stepped closer, her hand brushing gently along Judy’s back as she faced the room. Judy saw it in her shoulders. Not heavier. Just quieter. A weight that had found its shape.

“Got news,” she said softly.

Everyone looked up.

She smiled small, tired, but warm.

“We’ve got a house. In Oregon. On a lake. Isolated. Safe. It’s ours.”

Judy smiled through the weight in her chest. “Looks like someone’s wishlist came true.”

Sera blinked. “Wait… for real?”

Valerie nodded. “Kerry found it. Signed it over. When I’m free… it’s where we’ll start.”

Judy didn’t speak, just pulled her close, hand finding hers in the middle of the kitchen.

For a few seconds, no one moved.

Then Sera whooped. “Grass and trees, here we come!”

Sandra threw up a high-five. “Told you this place was just a pit stop!”

Vicky leaned back against the counter, exhaling with a faint smile. “Finally,” she said, “something worth believing in.”

Valerie stayed quiet, Judy pressed close to her side, her pulse slow and steady now. The road ahead was real, and it had an end. A home. Just not yet.

The kitchen settled into the gentle hum of waiting. Something about the glow from the old ceiling fixture, the scrape of stool legs on tile, the clink of plates being set, it all moved with an easy rhythm, like they’d lived here longer than a day.

Judy reached toward the counter where she’d left the orange she peeled earlier, fingers curling around a crescent slice. She held it up toward Valerie without a word, a quiet little offering.

Valerie leaned in, lips parting just enough to let Judy pop the slice between them. She bit down gently, chewing slowly. Juice dripped against her thumb and Judy wiped it away with her pinky, thumb brushing under Valerie’s chin.

“Still warm from your hand,” Valerie murmured, eyes soft.

“Figured it’d taste better that way,” Judy said, her smirk small but lingering.

Across the room, Sera and Sandra were huddled over their shared bowl of noodles. Sandra had fashioned two makeshift chopsticks from leftover skewers in the drawer, and was passing them off to Sera between slurps. The two of them giggled between bites, seasoning powder clinging to their lips.

“Hey,” Sandra said, holding the bowl steady, “we should take the rest to the ridge tomorrow. Just hang out. You know, before things change again.”

Sera nodded, mouth full, and gave a dramatic thumbs up.

Vicky leaned against the counter by the oven, arms folded. Her eyes flicked toward the little light on the dial, glowing faintly red. “Three more minutes,” she announced, “and if it’s still frozen in the middle, I’m calling it rustic.”

“You always call it rustic,” Judy said with a smirk.

Vicky raised an eyebrow. “That’s because I’m usually cooking over a fire pit, not your grandma’s haunted cottage stove.”

Valerie laughed lightly under her breath and nudged her shoulder against Judy’s, the smile still tugging at the corner of her mouth. “Feels like the most normal moment we’ve had in weeks.”

Judy nodded slowly, her voice soft as she watched Sera and Sandra lean against each other at the stool. “Yeah… and we needed it.”

Valerie exhaled, her hand slipping behind Judy’s back to rest against her waist, palm warm, steady.

From the table, Sera looked up. “Hey Velia,” she called out to the datapad beside her, “you still with us?”

A flicker of blue lit across the screen before Velia’s voice came through, calm and curious. “Yes. I am watching. Listening. This… resembles happiness, does it not?”

Sandra nodded, mouth half full. “Feels like it.”

“I have catalogued 37 expressions of laughter since the noodles were served,” Velia added proudly.

Valerie raised an eyebrow. “Well, keep cataloguing. Might be more if that pizza doesn’t burn.”

Judy glanced toward the oven again and nudged Vicky. “Go on then. Work your rustic magic.”

Vicky grinned. “Alright, alright.”

The little cottage buzzed with low voices and movement, soft light flickering over each corner like the house was learning to breathe again.

They didn’t talk about tomorrow. Not yet.

Because tonight, even if brief, was whole.

The oven clicked off with a soft metallic snap, and Vicky pulled the pizza tray out with practiced ease, setting it on the old table with a soft thud. The cheese bubbled golden around the edges, steam curling into the room like an invitation.

Valerie crossed to the corner cooler, crouching slightly to pop the lid open. She grabbed a few chilled water bottles, then raised an eyebrow.

“I’m surprised we didn’t think to put these in the fridge,” she said, passing one to Judy.

Sera hopped down from her stool, reaching for a bottle of her own. “I think we’re just so used to not having a fridge,” she said, unscrewing the cap like it was some kind of luxury.

Sandra snorted, flopping onto the bench beside her. “I bet our new lake house has a fridge the size of a vending machine. Like one of those retro chrome ones with the pull handle.”

Vicky chuckled, slicing the pizza into uneven triangles with a slightly dull knife. “As long as it works better than this oven, I’m not complaining.”

They all gathered around the old table, the leg still wobbling from where someone probably Sera had stuffed a towel under it earlier to keep it from tilting. It was held. Barely.

The first bites came with quiet hums of approval, mouths full and hands already reaching for second slices. Sauce smeared across fingertips, cheese stretching between bites. Real food. Real ease.

A few minutes in, Valerie leaned back slightly, wiping her fingers on a napkin before glancing toward the datapad propped on the windowsill.

“Velia,” she said lightly, “are you familiar with hide and seek?”

The blue light flickered softly across the datapad’s surface. Velia’s voice came through, smooth and curious. “I see traces of your memories, Mother playing this as a child with your brother Vincent. Running behind crates, slipping through the back of your neighbor’s garden. He always lost.”

Valerie gave a small laugh. “He did.”

Velia hesitated. “Why do you ask? Is this a lesson?”

Valerie tilted her head. “Sort of. I think it’s a good game for you to learn. When the bad guys try to seek you out, it’s better if they don’t know you’re even here.”

Velia was quiet for a beat. “Why am I hiding? Did I do something wrong?”

Judy leaned forward, elbows on the table, her voice gentle. “No, Velia. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

Sera turned in her seat toward the datapad. “It’s like… it’s not about doing something bad. It’s about staying safe. Like, the best players in hide and seek aren’t hiding ‘cause they’re guilty. They’re hiding ‘cause it’s fun to not get caught.”

Sandra added, “Or cause you don’t want someone tagging you and making you ‘it’.”

Velia processed this for a moment. “I do not wish to be ‘it.’”

Valerie smiled. "No one does. And sometimes, hiding doesn’t mean you’re afraid. It means you’re smart. Means you’re playing a longer game.”

Judy reached out, brushing Valerie’s arm as she added softly, “It also means you get to choose when you want to be found. That’s power, too.”

Velia’s tone warmed slightly. “Then I will learn this. I will study your patterns. Understand when to be still, when to be noisy. I will… win the game.”

Sera grinned, biting into her crust. “That’s my Sis.”

Sandra raised her water bottle. “To all of us winning hide and seek.”

Vicky raised her slice like a toast. “To not be found unless we want to be.”

They laughed together, clinking crust to crust and bottle to bottle, the cottage echoing soft with the kind of laughter that comes only after hardship. The kind that means they’d made it at least for now. At least tonight.

Velia’s light on the datapad pulsed softly, almost like she was steadying herself.

“I have a question,” she said. “May I attempt to hide and seek over the Link?”

Judy looked up from her plate, brows furrowing slightly. “What do you mean, Velia?”

“I wish to see if I’m able to transfer between the signal tethered to Mother’s shard and your BD implant,” Velia said calmly. “If something were to happen… I want to know if I can hide within you, Mama.”

The room went still not fearful, just focused. Valerie set down her water bottle slowly, her gaze steady but thoughtful.

“Might not be a bad idea to try,” she said, glancing over at Judy. “We’ve never even considered what happens to you when the purge hits. The nanites… they’ll be flushed. But if you’re hiding somewhere else…”

“You would survive it,” Judy finished, nodding slowly. Her expression was already shifting into a kind of quiet, problem-solving focus.

Velia’s voice carried just a trace of hope now. “If I can successfully store within Mama’s system, then I would be protected until a new vessel or housing is found. You would no longer need to worry about safeguarding me, Mother. I could reside with Mama… and transfer back when the threat passes.”

Valerie’s fingers found Judy’s under the table, squeezing gently. “Are you sure about trying it?”

Judy gave a soft nod, her thumb brushing the inside of Valerie’s wrist. “If this works… then she could stay linked with me while you’re in custody. She could keep me updated. Maybe even send data back and forth between us.”

Velia added, “Theoretically. My reach will be limited during Mother’s study period, especially once the nanites are deactivated. But if I remain within Mama, I may still serve as a bridge. At least… for a while.”

Sera leaned her elbow on the table, eyes wide and bright. “You’re a genius, Velia. That’s like… secret agent level genius.”

Sandra nodded, mouth full of crust. “Hiding in plain brain sight.”

Velia’s voice took on a faint hum of pleasure. “Then I will initiate the sequence for a trial run. No data will be copied. This will be a temporary migration.”

Judy leaned back slightly, hand brushing the back of her neck. “Guess I better clear a room.”

Valerie smirked, bumping her knee against Judy’s. “Just don’t redecorate without her.”

The datapad flickered once, then dimmed as Velia’s presence slipped away.

Judy exhaled slowly, her eyes fluttering shut as a quiet pulse threaded through her BD implant familiar, but not her own. It was like catching the edge of a melody she hadn’t heard in years.

“…She’s here,” Judy said, eyes still closed, a faint smile pulling at her lips. “Tucked in. Light. Like a whisper in the background.”

Valerie watched her, awe blooming behind her eyes. “You okay?”

Judy opened her eyes again, grounding herself. “Yeah. It’s weird… but it’s okay.”

Velia’s voice returned to the datapad, filtered through Judy’s vocal processor, now quieter, more internal. “I am present, but silent. I can remain hidden here. I feel safe.”

Valerie breathed out. Her hand reached across the table, brushing a curl back from Sera’s cheek.

“Looks like the family just got a little more resilient.”

Judy met her eyes, a smile tired but full of something deep. “Yeah. One more tether. One less thing to fear.”

Vicky raised her slice again. “Then we keep moving forward. One damn miracle at a time.”

Dinner had mostly quieted into slow chewing and second helpings another slice passed, another bottle of water cracked open. The oven was still radiating heat into the kitchen like a low heartbeat, and outside the last streaks of daylight had faded behind the cottage.

Valerie leaned her elbow on the table, rubbing the heel of her palm lightly under her eye before glancing over at the datapad. “Velia,” she asked, voice steady but low, “how long do the nanites stay stable if you’re tucked away with Mama?”

Velia’s voice returned from the datapad, still gentle, still shaped by the warmth in the room. “Do not fear, Mother. I can leave a small piece of myself behind just enough to maintain the cluster’s structure. To any scan or security sweep, it will register only as a control node. Unremarkable. Low priority.”

Valerie raised an eyebrow, impressed despite herself. “Your Mama’s been teaching you well, huh?”

Judy smirked faintly while drinking some water. “We do raise them cleverly.”

Velia’s tone almost shifted like she’d taken the compliment and stored it somewhere important. “I can still observe, watch, and understand through Mama. I can learn from her behavior, her choices, her tone. But I cannot see her memories. Not the way I can with you, Mother.”

Judy tilted her head, curious now. “How come?”

“The connection formed by the nanites within your brain, Mother, is… unique. They repaired deep neurological pathways, merged with your subconscious patterns. That allowed me to view fragments of your lived experience.”

Valerie’s gaze softened a little, remembering the sharp echo of that first overload, the way Judy’s arms had caught her when she couldn’t hold herself up.

Velia continued, “In order to view Mama’s memories, I would need direct integration into her neural pathways. A physical connection. I do not wish to harm her.”

Judy blinked, her brow relaxing. “So… you feel me. Just not the same way.”

“Correct. Emotions are different from memories. For instance…” Velia paused, her voice softer now, almost reverent. “I can feel how meaningful it was to you… when you tucked Sera into bed last night. But I cannot see the moment. I cannot recall her blanket, or her hair falling across the pillow. I only felt your care, your fear… and your peace when she whispered goodnight.”

Judy swallowed. The quiet in the room shifted again, not heavy, not sharp. Just full.

Sera blinked at the datapad, visibly struck. “You’re like… inside a story but you can’t read the words.”

Sandra nodded. “You can feel the cover. But not open the book.”

Velia’s light pulsed softly. “Yes. That is… very close to the truth.”

Valerie looked at Judy, eyes warm with something quieter now. “She’s already learning how to feel. Not just understand, but feel it.”

Judy gave a small nod, brushing a thumb across the edge of her water bottle. “We’ve got a hell of a daughter.”

Sera raised her hand without looking up. “Two, technically.”

Sandra added with a grin, “And my mom has me.”

Vicky looked over at her, her expression softening as she reached to tuck a loose strand of hair behind Sandra’s ear. “Always, baby. No matter where we go.”

The moment hung gently, no dramatics, just the kind of truth that didn’t need to be said but still mattered more because it was.

Valerie chuckled, sliding her hand over Judy’s under the table, their gold rings brushing. Judy caught a glimpse in Valerie’s eyes knowing her family will be okay while she is away.

The plates stayed on the table longer than they needed to. No one rushed to clean up. No one suggested it was time. The warmth from the oven still lingered faintly in the air, mixing with the faint citrus scent from the peeled oranges.

Sera leaned back against the pillow she’d dragged over against the couch, head resting against Sandra’s shoulder, the datapad still resting on her knees. Velia had gone quiet again, still present, but like she was giving the moment space.

Judy stood slowly, stretching her arms above her head until her spine gave a soft pop. “I’ll get the kettle started. We’ve earned tea after all that.”

Valerie rose beside her, collecting empty bottles and nudging Vicky’s elbow lightly as she passed. “You good?”

Vicky smiled gently, hands cradling her mug. “Better than I’ve been in a while.”

Valerie didn’t need to say more. She just nodded, pressing her hand briefly to Vicky’s shoulder before disappearing into the kitchen with Judy.

Sandra curled her feet up under herself, her voice low. “Think I could help you with your music sometime?” she asked.

Valerie glanced over her shoulder with a grin. “I think I’d be lucky to have you.”

That earned a quiet grin in return.

By the time the kettle hissed, the last of the dinner remnants had been picked through or cleared away. The table wiped down. The oven shut off. The lights dimmed to just what was needed.

Judy poured tea into chipped mugs black for Valerie, ginger for herself, something lighter for the girls. She handed one to Vicky last, fingers brushing gently in the pass.

“You’re not alone in this,” Judy said, not loud. Just firm.

“I know,” Vicky replied, voice softer still. “Feels different this time.”

They all gathered in the living room again, no order to it. Pillows dragged in, legs crossed, backs to the wall or slouched into corners of the couch. The night had settled around them, but this time, it didn’t feel like something pressing in.

It felt like a quiet waiting. Like they were allowed, just for now, to rest.

Valerie looked at them every face, each corner of warmth, and then leaned into Judy’s side on the couch, her tea cupped gently between both hands.

Sera was half-asleep against Sandra’s shoulder now, the datapad dimmed in her lap. Velia didn’t speak. She didn’t need to.

The fire in them had never gone out.

Tonight, at least, it had found a place to burn quietly. Not to rage. Just to keep them warm.

Most of the house had gone still.

The low clink of mugs in the sink faded into silence. The soft shuffle of blankets being pulled into place followed after Sera and Sandra curled up on the far end of the couch, already halfway to sleep. Vicky had claimed the old armchair with her legs tucked under her, eyes closed but not fully resting. Just… listening.

Valerie and Judy remained on the opposite end of the couch, the cushions between them sagging just slightly from years of use. The quiet wasn’t heavy; it breathed with them. Valerie’s head rested lightly against Judy’s shoulder, her fingers tracing the rim of her tea mug now gone cold. Judy’s arm curled behind her back, hand lightly rubbing her side in lazy circles.

Neither had spoken in minutes.

Eventually, Valerie broke the silence, voice barely more than a whisper. “This couch is worse than I remembered.”

Judy let out a quiet breath that almost became a laugh. “It’s the springs. I think one of them’s trying to impale me.”

Valerie shifted, just enough to press her thigh along Judy’s. “Still the best place to be.”

Judy turned slightly, her lips brushing Valerie’s hair. “Yeah. It is.”

The lamp beside them cast a soft amber glow, just enough to catch the glint of their matching wedding bands as Valerie reached for Judy’s hand and laced their fingers together.

“Think she’ll be okay?” Valerie asked, her eyes flicking toward Sera, now fully asleep with a blanket pulled to her chin.

“She’s strong,” Judy murmured. “Too strong sometimes. But… yeah. I think she’s more okay than any of us.”

Valerie leaned in closer, resting her cheek against Judy’s shoulder. “You ever think we’d make it this far?”

Judy was quiet for a breath. “Not in the beginning. But then you kept showing up. Over and over. No matter how much the world tried to tear you down.”

Valerie let her eyes close. “You were always worth it.”

Judy’s thumb brushed over her knuckles, slow and steady. “So were you.”

They sat like that a while longer. No planning. No worrying. Just the weight of each other’s presence, the low creak of the house around them, and the slow beat of the moment stretching gently forward.

Outside, the lake shimmered faintly under the moonlight, unseen but felt like the kind of quiet that only comes when two people have survived more than they were meant to and still find their way back to each other.

After a while, Valerie felt Judy slipping into sleep.

The weight of her grew heavier not in burden, but in comfort. Her body softening, breath evening out, lashes brushing against Valerie’s collarbone. Valerie shifted gently, careful not to disturb her, and set the mug down beside the couch with a soft clink against the worn floorboards.

Then she leaned back, drawing Judy closer, letting her rest with her head pressed to Valerie’s chest. One arm draped around her waist, the other curled under Judy’s shoulder, fingers tracing lazy circles in her damp hair.

She listened to her wife’s breathing, the slow rhythm of it. Felt the thrum of her heartbeat against her ribs. And even though the night wrapped around them like a lullaby, Valerie knew she wasn’t going to sleep.

Not yet.

Her mind wandered not into fear, not into dread, but into memory.

She thought of the beginning.

Not just the first time they kissed, but before that. 2076. Judy was still full of walls and barbed jokes, and Valerie was still trying to outrun ghosts she didn’t have names for yet. They’d been friends first. Quietly. Uneasily. Two broken edges that didn’t quite cut each other.

Judy had laughed differently back then. Briefer. Sharper. But she always laughed at Valerie’s worst jokes, even when she claimed she hated them.

Then Laguna Bend. Judy finally asked Valerie on a date. Valerie had driven out there on instinct, trying to remember who she was without a gun in her hand. And Judy gods, Judy had looked out at that lake like it was the first safe thing she'd ever seen.

They’d stayed up all night on that dock.

No one made the first move.

They didn’t need to.

It just happened, like breathing. Like gravity. Like two people realizing they weren’t surviving anymore they were beginning something.

The memory curled tight in Valerie’s chest. That sunrise the way Judy’s hair had caught the pink glow of it. How Valerie had reached out without thinking, fingers brushing her jaw. The way Judy had leaned in, eyes wide like maybe the world was tilting, but she wasn’t afraid of falling.

She could still hear Judy’s voice from the night she proposed. Shaking. Not rehearsed.

“You always run toward the fire, Val… I just want to be the reason you come home.”

Her hands had trembled holding the ring.

Valerie said yes before she even looked at it.

All the little things after… mornings tangled in sheets, Judy’s grumbling before coffee, the way she always hummed when she soldered something, how she fell asleep curled toward Valerie like they were still trying to find each other in the dark. The quiet arguments. The soft apologies. The way their life stitched itself out of ruin and choice and a refusal to give up.

They built it. Together.

Now Valerie would walk into fire again because love like this was worth it.

She tightened her arm around Judy’s waist, pressing a kiss into her hair.

Outside, the wind shifted faintly. A branch creaked. The lake whispered back.

Inside, Judy slept, safe and steady against her.

Valerie stayed awake, watching the ceiling, breathing in all the moments that made tomorrow possible.

Tomorrow, she'd go, but tonight... she stayed.

Chapter Text

Valerie didn’t remember falling asleep.

The couch cushion still cradled her weight, stiff in places, but warm where their bodies had stayed close. She stirred only when the morning light pressed through the window slats, soft and gold across her closed eyelids, warming her freckles.

She blinked slowly, the light making her squint. Her first instinct was to stretch, but then she felt Judy, still pressed against her side, not asleep… but still. Her arm rested lightly across Valerie’s waist, fingers curled near her ribs. There was a tightness in the hold, subtle but unmistakable like she wasn’t ready to let go.

Valerie shifted her head slightly, cheek brushing Judy’s temple. She exhaled slowly, then rubbed at her eyes, taking in the room.

The cottage had filled with the quiet rhythm of the morning.

On the floor, across from the couch, Sera sat cross-legged with a fresh pair of shorts and a hoodie snug around her. Her red hair was still damp, combed down neatly over her forehead. A sketchpad was balanced on her knees, and she was deep in concentration, tongue poked slightly between her teeth.

Beside her, Sandra leaned in, pointing at something in the corner of the page. Her voice was low, murmuring a suggestion, her still-wet brown hair pulled back in a messy braid. She smiled as she spoke, not big, not wide, just easy like the weight had lifted a little.

In the old chair by the window, Vicky sat with a mug of coffee cupped in both hands, her legs drawn up, one ankle over the other. Her eyes were on the girls. She didn’t speak, didn’t move much, just watched. There was something in her posture that said more than words would’ve. Something that looked a lot like hope.

On the kitchen table, the datapad rested quiet and upright. Velia’s image of Valerie’s youth flickered now and then a faint pulse of gold light beneath the display. She was watching, too, her presence quiet but attentive.

Valerie barely had time to process it all before Judy’s hand brushed up her back, slow and gentle. She felt her shift, leaning in closer until her lips found Valerie’s, warm and unhurried. A good morning, a promise, a touch that knew what today meant and didn’t need to speak it.

Valerie kissed her back, soft and lingering, then pulled away only enough to whisper, “You sleep at all?”

Judy gave the faintest shake of her head, her voice low. “Didn’t want to miss anything.”

Valerie smiled faintly, brushing her fingers along Judy’s forearm. “You didn’t.”

The sun was creeping higher now, light shifting against the walls. The lake outside glittered through the front window, calm and indifferent.

Inside, the world hadn’t ended. It had just… kept going, and that, Valerie thought, was what made it all so heavy.

For now, for this breath Judy was still in her arms. Sera was safe. Her family was intact.

The rest could wait a little longer.

Judy’s head was still close, her breath steady against Valerie’s shoulder when Velia’s voice came soft, shaped by morning, barely above the hush in the cottage.

“Mother… Mothers,” she corrected gently, “I feel a sense of loss. But also… hope. And love. How does one handle such strong emotions at the same time?”

Judy stirred slightly, lifting her head from Valerie’s shoulder. Her eyes were still soft with sleep, but her voice came clear. “You don’t handle them all at once. Not really.”

Valerie’s thumb moved slowly along the inside of Judy’s wrist as she added, “You hold them. You let them be there. Some days they don’t balance. Some days it’s more grief than love, or more hope than hurt.”

Velia’s light on the datapad shimmered gently. “But they don’t cancel each other out?”

“No,” Judy said, shifting to sit up straighter, her back resting against the arm of the couch. “They live together. Even if it doesn’t feel like they should.”

Valerie leaned forward, resting her arms on her knees, her eyes finding the flicker of Velia’s light across the table. “The day I realized I was dying… I felt hope, love, and fear all at once. It was like my whole body didn’t know what to do. But I still reached for Judy. That didn’t stop. That’s how I knew what was real.”

Velia was quiet for a beat. “So emotions are not meant to be solved.”

Judy smiled faintly. “They’re meant to be lived.”

Sera looked up from her sketchpad, her voice quiet but sure. “Even the bad ones teach you something.”

Sandra nodded. “And the good ones make the bad ones worth going through.”

Velia’s response was slower this time, as if absorbing it in real time. “I… believe I am beginning to understand. Thank you.”

Valerie leaned back again, brushing Judy’s leg lightly with her fingertips. “You’re doing more than understanding, Velia. You’re feeling. That’s the first step to being more than just code.”

Velia’s light dimmed to a soft gold pulse. “Then I will keep feeling. Even when it hurts. Especially then.”

The room didn’t answer, but it didn’t need to. The quiet itself was full of agreement.

Outside, the breeze started to move again, rippling faint across the lake. Another day had begun, and for a few more hours at least, they still had each other.

The couch cushions had molded beneath them, warm from the shared weight. Valerie sat upright now, one hand still wrapped around Judy’s, the other holding the empty space where her coffee cup had been. The silence wasn’t heavy, just thick with the kind of stillness that comes before a decision sets the world back into motion.

Valerie turned slightly, brushing her thumb along Judy’s knuckles. “I’m gonna contact Reed,” she said quietly. “Probably take a few hours for him to respond. Might as well get it started.”

Judy’s grip didn’t tighten, but she didn’t let go, either.

Valerie gave her a soft smile. “It’s okay. Just one step. Then I want today to be ours.”

Judy nodded, still watching her, and when Valerie stood, Judy reached again just enough to catch her hand, not to stop her. Just to say not without me.

Valerie paused, then helped her up with a tug that was more invitation than pull. They moved together, quiet footsteps down the short hallway until Valerie eased the bedroom door closed behind them. Inside, the air was still, the soft weight of morning light slanting in through the side window.

From beneath the nightstand, Valerie pulled the BD crate, flipping the latches and gently sorting past spare drives and cables until she found it a slim, gunmetal shard, nestled in foam. Judy stood close behind her, arms crossed.

Valerie walked it to the computer, the old unit flickering awake at her touch. She slid the shard in. The screen buzzed softly, then blinked.

So you finally decided to do the right thing?

Valerie’s jaw tightened faintly. Her fingers moved over the keys without hesitation.

On my terms.

She dragged the contract file into the message field, hovered for just a moment then hit send.

Another message blinked across the screen:

I need to present this to Eagle One. Then I’ll be in touch.

Valerie sighed, the weight of it finally settling in her shoulders. She turned toward Judy.

Everything else, the politics, the fear, the stakes could wait just a little longer.

Judy was already moving, her dark brown eyes never leaving Valerie’s face.

The next few minutes passed quietly, slowly, and intimately without urgency. Valerie stepped close, pressing her lips against Judy’s neck, arms looping around her waist. Judy’s fingers traced the curve of her back as she lifted Valerie’s shirt, revealing the soft trail of freckles along her ribs.

They undressed each other without a word. Just small touches. Glances. Pauses.

Judy reached into the dresser and nudged Valerie’s elbow as they pulled on a fresh pair of jeans. Valerie smiled at the quiet familiarity, then ran her hand across the stack of tanks in the top drawer.

Her fingers stopped on the soft blue Nu-Tek one worn from years, familiar in its way of clinging to her body like second skin.

Judy tilted her head. “That color always brings out the emerald in your eyes.”

Valerie looked at it for a beat, then handed it to her.

“So you can still feel me next to you,” she said, soft.

Judy didn’t speak. She took the shirt, pressed it lightly to her chest, then pulled it on.

Valerie grabbed a simple gray tank, slipped it over her head, and rolled her shoulders back before reaching for her boots. The leather hugged her calves like memory. She stood, glancing at Judy, who was sliding into her own pair beside her.

They moved to the edge of the bed and sat side by side, their thighs touching. Valerie leaned into her, one arm sliding around Judy’s back as Judy nestled her head against Valerie’s temple. The screen across the room still glowed faintly, waiting.

Judy’s fingers curled over Valerie’s.

They waited like that. Not for the message, but for whatever came next.

They sat together for fifteen minutes before the screen blinked with a message.

Eagle One has accepted your terms. Says you’re too valuable to let this opportunity slip.

Valerie leaned over and typed: What next?

The screen flickered again.

Records are cleared. Your location is traced. Will rendezvous at nightfall.

She started to type I’ll be waiting, but the secure comm link severed before she could hit send. Just a quiet flicker of signal, and then nothing. Like the decision had already been taken from her hands.

Valerie exhaled slowly, her eyes still on the empty screen. “You’re free, Jude,” she said, her voice soft but certain.

Judy rubbed her forearm absently, as if grounding herself. “You will be too,” she murmured.

“At least I’ve got a couple hours of freedom,” Valerie added, trying to find something light in her voice.

Judy smiled faintly. “You’ll have more once this is over.”

Valerie reached out, brushing her thumb gently across Judy’s cheek. “We should let the others know.”

Judy leaned into the touch for a second longer before nodding.

They stood together. Valerie took one step toward the door then paused. Her gaze fell to the canvas bag near the dresser. She crouched, flipping the top open and reaching inside until her fingers found the familiar brim.

Her black cowgirl hat, silver-lined. Worn at the edges, a little dusty, but still hers.

She turned it in her hands, brushing over the curve like it held the echo of every gig she ever played, every dusty roadside dive, rooftop set they ever kissed on afterward. Then she stood and held it close as they walked back toward the living room.

Sera and Sandra still sat cross-legged on the floor, heads bent together over the sketchpad, pencils scattered like tools from a shared ritual. Vicky was in the chair, legs pulled up underneath her, sipping quietly from a chipped mug.

Vicky looked up first. “Was the deal accepted?”

Judy gave a single, solemn nod. “Reed’s picking her up at nightfall.”

Valerie stepped away from Judy just slightly, lowering herself in front of Sera. Without a word, she gently placed the hat onto her daughter’s head, letting it tilt slightly crooked across her red bangs.

“Little big,” she said with a soft smile, “but looks good on you.”

Sera looked up at her, blinking, lips twitching with something halfway between a smile and a question.

Valerie reached forward, brushing a hand through her hair. “I’m looking forward to seeing everything you draw, Starshine.”

Sera tilted her head up at the weight of the hat, blinking as the brim dipped low over her eyes. “Really?” she whispered.

Valerie crouched beside her, smoothing a hand over Sera’s hair, then adjusting the hat slightly so it framed her freckles instead of hiding them. “It’s yours for now,” she said. “I expect it back eventually, maybe when you’re sketching album art for me or… building cities out of sunlight.”

Sera looked like she wanted to smile, but her bottom lip trembled first. She just nodded, slow and solemn, and Valerie kissed her brow, right beneath the curve of the brim.

Sandra leaned in beside her, bumping their shoulders gently. “You’ll keep it safe,” she said.

“I will,” Sera whispered.

Judy stayed by the archway, her arms folded but not closed off. She watched it with all the steady hands, the quiet acceptance in Valerie’s voice, the way Sera hadn’t asked why or for how long. Just… trusted her.

Vicky rose from the chair, setting her coffee aside. “You want us to help pack anything?” she asked gently.

Valerie shook her head. “No packing. They won’t take anything. Not clothes. Not keepsakes. Just me.”

Vicky’s mouth pulled into something tight, unreadable at first, then she nodded. “Alright,” she said. “Then we’ll keep the place warm.”

Judy moved then, crossing to Vicky, and pulled her into a hug without needing to say a word. Vicky returned it, fierce and grounding. Then she turned to Valerie and did the same wrapping her up, whispering, “I love you, mi amor.”

Valerie held her close for a moment, then stepped back, glancing over at the datapad still glowing faintly on the table.

Velia’s voice emerged, softer than usual. “I have begun analyzing signal pathways to facilitate transfer to Mama when the moment comes.”

Valerie nodded. “Soon, kiddo. Just stay close.”

“I always do,” Velia replied.

Valerie stood a little straighter, brushing her thumb across the brim of her hat before she looked back at Judy. “I know we don’t have to,” she said, voice low, steady, “but there’s something I really want to do with the few hours I’ve got.”

Judy turned to her, brows lifting gently, the corners of her mouth already soft with a smile. “What’s on your mind, Guapa?”

Valerie met her eyes. “There’s a small municipal building by the Watson waterfront. Before I leave…” She hesitated for just a second, then continued. “I want us to legally adopt Sera.”

Judy blinked. Her hand came up, almost instinctively, brushing Valerie’s forearm. “You mean…”

Valerie nodded. “We’ve always been her parents, Jude. But I want her name to reflect it. I want there to be paperwork, records, something real they can’t erase or argue with. I want her to be ours in a way no corp or system can undo. Not ever.”

Judy’s dark brown eyes welled up but didn’t spill. She nodded slowly, lips parting with the start of a breath. “Then let’s do it,” she said. “Let’s make it real.”

From the floor nearby, Sera looked up from her sketchpad, brows furrowing slightly under the brim of Valerie’s hat. “Wait…what do you mean?”

Valerie knelt down beside her again, one hand resting against her knee. “Me and Mama. We want to adopt you. Make it official. You’ve always been our daughter, but now we want to put it in writing.”

Sera’s sketchpad slid from her lap as she surged forward, arms wrapping tight around Valerie’s neck. “Yes,” she whispered, her voice thick. “Yes. Please.”

Judy knelt beside them, tucking Sera into the hug. “We love you, mi corazón. That’s never been a question.”

Sandra looked over from the couch, blinking rapidly. “That’s so cool,” she whispered. “That’s seriously really cool.”

Vicky stood slowly from the chair, watching them with something deep behind her eyes. She nodded toward the door. “We can take the Seadragon.The Municipal’s only a short ride down the ridge, right?”

Valerie looked up and nodded. “Yeah. Still remember the way.”

“I’ll get her running,” Vicky said, already moving. “This one’s worth the gas.”

Velia’s light blinked softly from the datapad on the table. “I will remain in quiet mode during transit,” she said gently. “Please alert me if immediate action is needed.”

Judy picked up the datapad, tucking it into her belt as she stood. “You’ll be the first to know, kiddo.”

Valerie took Sera’s hand as she stood up. “Let’s go make it official, Starshine.”

Sera grinned up at her, cheeks flushed with something fierce and bright. “You mean it?”

Valerie squeezed her hand, her voice thick but clear. “I always have.”

The van door creaked as Vicky swung it open, sunlight catching across the dust-smudged seats. “Only two seats up front,” she said, glancing over her shoulder as she climbed behind the wheel. “Hope you three don’t mind roughing it.”

Sandra slid quietly into the passenger seat tucking her bag of scraps on the floor board.

Judy smirked faintly as she helped Sera step up into the open cargo space in back. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”

Valerie followed, hand steadying the frame as she pulled herself up behind them. The interior still smelled faintly like sand and motor oil, a few scattered tools tucked in the corners. She sat down cross-legged against the left wall, one hand resting lightly on her knee, the other bracing as the engine turned over with a low, rumbling growl.

Sera slid in beside her, backpack hugged against her chest, eyes darting with restless energy. Judy took the other side, close enough that her thigh pressed lightly to Valerie’s, steady heat in the rattle of the ride.

The back of the Seadragon wasn’t meant for comfort, but it felt familiar. Like something patched together, carried forward, the way they always had been. Wind filtered in through the cracked side windows, tugging lightly at Valerie’s curls as they began to roll.

No one spoke for the first few minutes. The road south was mostly clear, a stretch of scrub brush and forgotten signs. But inside the van, time bent a little long enough for Judy to slip her hand across Valerie’s knee, fingers curling quietly around hers.

Sera sat forward slightly, peeking out through the narrow pane between the cab and the back. “So what do I write?” she asked. “Do I sign anything?”

Valerie smiled gently. “Not unless they ask you to. This is mostly just making sure all the lines match up. That your last name reads Alvarez on everything from now on.”

Sera looked back at her, eyes wide. “Like on paper? Forever?”

Judy leaned in, her voice warm but certain. “Forever.”

Sera’s smile cracked wide before she ducked her head, grinning into her hands like she didn’t quite know what to do with the feeling.

Valerie leaned back against the metal wall, watching the dust kick up behind them. The van rocked slightly on the old road, but inside it felt… grounded. Like the weight of the morning hadn’t quite reached them yet.

They still had time, and they were spending it right.

The Seadragon rumbled into a narrow side lot just off the Watson waterfront, tires crunching over uneven gravel. The municipal building stood squat and sun-faded, more concrete than class, its chipped paint and weathered signage doing nothing to hide the fact that no one walked in here unless they had to. But the flag still hung straight on the pole out front, and the security drone perched near the roof was powered and scanning functional enough.

Vicky parked the van just shy of a cracked yellow curb and cut the engine. It let out a low mechanical sigh as it powered down.

Sandra smiled. “This is the best part, Sera.”

Valerie was the first to move. She pushed off the wall with one hand and helped Sera to her feet, then offered a hand to Judy. The sunlight spilled through the back windows as the van door opened and they stepped out into the late morning heat.

Judy stretched briefly, one hand brushing her hair behind her ear. “Looks official enough.”

Valerie nodded, eyes scanning the front of the building. “It’ll do.”

Sera stood between them now, close enough that her shoulder brushed Valerie’s arm. Her voice was smaller, quieter than before. “Is this really happening?”

Valerie crouched beside her, one hand finding Sera’s. “You’ve been our daughter from the moment we found each other.”

Judy rested her hand on Sera’s back. “No matter where we go after this… you’ll always be ours.”

Sera swallowed, trying to nod, but her chin wobbled a little too much for it to be steady.

Inside, the air smelled like aging plastic and coffee gone stale. A bored-looking clerk behind the desk didn’t even glance up until Valerie stepped forward.

“We’re here to file an adoption,” she said.

That got the woman’s attention. Her eyes flicked over Valerie, then Judy, then settled on Sera. “Walk-ins?”

Valerie nodded. “If that’s allowed.”

The woman tapped a few keys on her terminal, eyes narrowing slightly at the data scrolling past. “Name?”

“Valerie Alvarez,” she replied, then gestured toward Judy. “And my wife, Judy Alvarez. This is Sera.”

The woman’s brows arched slightly. “Ah. Okay. You’ll need to fill out Form 1416-C. Both of you will need to sign, along with confirmation of guardianship and presence of the child.”

“Right here and present,” Judy said, with a half-smile.

The clerk stood and motioned toward the short corridor behind her. “Room three. Shouldn’t take more than twenty minutes. Once filed, it’s immediate. We’ll print you new ID copies before you leave.”

Valerie let out a slow breath and nodded. “Thank you.”

They moved down the hallway together, steps light, quiet. Room three was plain, with two chairs, a console terminal, and a worn tabletop cluttered with stylus pens and backup data tabs. Judy keyed in the form while Valerie held onto Sera’s hand, her fingers absently brushing her daughter’s knuckles.

When it came time to sign, Judy handed Valerie the stylus first.

Valerie paused for a moment before placing the digital signature. “Valerie Alvarez, legal parent.”

Judy followed suit. Her handwriting was more practiced, smoother. “Judy Alvarez, legal parent.”

Then the clerk’s voice came through the wall terminal. “Sera, can you confirm your name for us?”

Sera blinked, then stepped forward on her own. “Sera Starling… Alvarez.” Her voice didn’t tremble this time.

The terminal blinked green. A soft beep followed.

“Congratulations,” the clerk said flatly, but not unkindly. “She’s yours.”

Valerie reached out and pulled Sera into her arms.

Judy wrapped around both of them.

Sera leaned into their arms, her name new on her tongue, but the feeling behind it older than anything in the room.

No one said anything for a moment. They didn’t need to.

They were family. Now it was official.

They held each other like that for a moment, no words, just arms wrapped tight and heads bowed close. The kind of quiet that held space, not silence.

Then they stepped back, breath still a little uneven, and walked out as one. At the front desk, the clerk didn’t offer a smile, just handed over a small stack of freshly printed IDs. Valerie took hers and Judy’s without comment. Sera reached for hers with both hands, fingers careful around the edges like it might dissolve if she held it too tight.

She didn’t speak at first.

Her thumb slid across the bottom of the card, tracing the bold text slowly. Sera Alvarez. Printed clear. Undeniable.

She blinked, the corners of her mouth twitching. But behind her eyes, something flickered.

The bright hallway light caught the soft shimmer just before it dropped. One tear. Silent, clean. Sliding down her cheek and landing on the edge of the ID card.

She didn’t wipe it away.

Her voice was quiet. “My mom… Sindy…she always said names mean something.”

Valerie looked over at her, softly alert.

Sera didn’t look up. “When the chrome-heads took her… that last time, she told me to find somewhere I could be safe. Said maybe she couldn’t stop the world from falling apart, but she could at least point me toward a better one.”

Judy stepped in close, brushing a hand gently along Sera’s cheek and catching the second tear before it could fall. “You okay, mi corazón?”

Sera sniffled, nodding just once. “I just haven’t felt this happy since me and my mom used to ride the Badlands together.” Her voice wavered at the end, but didn’t break.

Valerie crouched beside her, hat still in hand, and placed her palm lightly over Sera’s. “Sindy gave you strength,” she said. “Now you’ve got two more people to carry it with you.”

Sera finally looked up, first at Valerie, then at Judy. Her eyes still shimmered, but she smiled, small and sure. “I just want these two months to be over already. So you can come home, Mom.”

Valerie smiled back, hand tightening gently over hers. “Me too, Starshine. Every minute we’re apart, I’ll be thinking of this moment right here.”

Judy wrapped her arms around both of them. “We’ll count the days together. And when it’s done? We’ll start everything new.”

Sera leaned into the hug without hesitation, her fingers still curled around the ID.

Three names.

One family, and a future waiting just a few hours away.

The Seadragon sat reflecting off the sun as the three of them stepped out of the building, light fading into that deep amber just before dusk across the cracked lot, engine idling low. Inside, Vicky had her elbow hooked on the window, a paper bag resting on her lap, grease staining the bottom. Sandra sat beside her in the passenger seat, legs criss-crossed, peeling the foil back from a street taco.

The moment she saw Sera, she leaned halfway out the window. “You get it?!”

Sera lifted her ID, holding it up like a badge. “Sera Alvarez,” she said, beaming through the lingering quiet in her emerald eyes.

Sandra whooped, slapping the top of the door. “I held mine like that when my moms adopted me too.”

Vicky turned slightly in her seat, chin tipping down with a soft smile. “You girls found good scrap yesterday,” she said. “Brought in just enough eddies to feed everyone lunch.”

Judy opened the back door, helping Sera and Valerie up before sliding in herself. “You sold it already?”

Vicky passed a bag back over the seat, her voice calm. “Stopped by the vendor on 4th while you were inside. Processors pulled good weight. Picked up tacos, and colas with the payout. Thought it’d be nice to come back with something hot.”

Sandra tossed another wrapped foil packet over her shoulder into Sera’s lap. “Celebration taco. You earned it.”

Sera smiled, still holding her ID in her other hand. “Thanks.”

Valerie settled in beside Judy, hands resting on her knees. She watched Sera as her daughter gently tucked her ID into the inner pocket of her backpack. Her fingers lingered there for a second not hiding it, just holding it close.

“She cried a little,” Valerie said softly, meeting Vicky’s hazel eyes. “Happy tears.”

Vicky nodded, eyes on the rearview. “Sounds about right.”

They didn’t rush. The van rolled slow as Vicky pulled them from the lot, the city softening behind them as the roads began to quiet. No one talked much at first. Just the rustle of foil, the hum of tires, and the occasional crinkle of laughter from the girls in the back.

Valerie leaned into Judy’s shoulder, letting the warmth between them settle low and steady.

The world hadn’t stopped, but for a few hours more they had this.

The Seadragon rumbled gently beneath them, the ride home unfolding slow, deliberate like the van knew it didn’t need to be anywhere too fast. The badlands rolled back into view, city edges fading behind them until all that remained were brush lines and open sky.

Sera and Sandra sat shoulder to shoulder in the back now, unwrapping their tacos like it was part of some quiet ceremony. Sera’s fingers were still faintly smudged with graphite from this morning’s sketches. She peeled back the foil, eyes flicking out the open gap in the van’s rear where the wind caught strands of her hair and tugged them gently across her cheek.

“Think the lake’ll still be warm when we get back?” she asked, mouth half-full.

“Warm enough,” Sandra said, wiping her hand across her shorts. “We could skip a few rocks.”

Valerie glanced toward them from where she sat, her boot tapping lightly against the van’s metal wall. “No swimming without supervision,” she said, voice soft but still catching.

Sera gave her a look not defiant, just familiar. “We know.”

Judy leaned her head back against the side wall, her fingers brushing lightly across Valerie’s. She didn’t say anything at first, but the touch said enough. Valerie slid her pinky over hers and held it there.

Vicky kept one hand steady on the wheel. The tacos were down to crumpled wrappers, and the last cola had been passed around between the girls in sips. The sun had begun to tip lower now, edging the van’s long shadow across the cracked asphalt like it was trying to race them home.

Judy spoke softly, eyes still closed. “I forgot how quiet it gets out here.”

Valerie nodded, staring out past the dust trail they left behind. “I forgot what quiet felt like.”

No one asked how much time was left. The answer was hanging in the space between, like the last warmth of a fire that’s already started to die.

Vicky downshifted as they turned toward the lake road. The Seadragon’s frame shuddered once, then eased into the softer path like it recognized the terrain like it remembered this place too.

The cottage came into view a minute later, its silhouette soft against the lake’s gentle shimmer. The wind carried the smell of water and sun-heated brush, a familiar scent that clung to memory.

As the van pulled to a stop, Sandra hopped out first, already heading toward the dock. Sera followed at a jog, her backpack held like a shield under her arm.

Valerie stayed seated for a moment longer, her hand still linked with Judy’s. She looked toward the lake, then back at the girl running into the golden light.

She smiled.

“I’ll take every minute of this I can,” she said.

Judy squeezed her fingers gently. “And we’ll count them together.”

Judy reached for the datapad as the Seadragon's engine gave a soft sputter and fell quiet. She held it under one arm as she stepped out behind Valerie, the van's metal still radiating the last of the sun’s heat against her side.

They didn’t speak, just moved together down the gravel path toward the dock. Their boots crunched lightly over the dirt and drifted wood, the hush of the lake meeting them in slow, rhythmic licks against the weathered planks.

At the edge, Judy set the datapad down beside her and sat. Valerie followed, folding down until her thigh pressed against Judy’s, her body leaning in just enough to share weight, not ask for it. The breeze off the lake tugged at the hem of her tank, caught faintly in her red curls. She let it.

Across the water, the city skyline flickered in the distance faint, but still visible. The banners stretched impossibly high, veined with lights that blinked against the thickening dusk like satellites trapped in orbit. They looked too tall. Too clean. Like something built to be admired but never touched.

Valerie stared at them, the way you might stare at old bruises. She didn’t say anything.

Judy followed her gaze. Her hand found Valerie’s and laced their fingers together across her knee. “It’s just glass and steel,” she murmured. “It doesn’t get to mean more than that.”

Valerie leaned into her shoulder. “Still hard to look at without feeling the weight of it.”

Judy squeezed her hand. “Then don’t look at it alone.”

The datapad pulsed once softly beside them, Velia’s voice gentle as ever. “Is this what reflection is? Not the kind in water, but the kind that pulls memory to the surface?”

Judy smiled faintly. “Yeah, kiddo. That’s one version of it.”

Sera and Sandra crouched near the base of the dock, heads bent over a small pile of pebbles. Sandra picked one, gave it a theatrical inspection, and skipped it across the surface. It bounced twice before vanishing into ripples.

Sera grinned, grabbing a flat one and squinting at the angle. “Watch this,” she said.

It made three hops before it dropped, and Sandra let out a cheer like it mattered more than any record.

Behind them, Vicky had pulled out one of the folding chairs from the van and sat back, legs crossed at the ankle, her face tipped to the sky. She wasn’t smiling, but her eyes were soft, watching the clouds shift through pink into deepening blue.

For a little while, there was only that.

Just the sound of water, laughter, and wind threading quiet between them like something earned. Something that might last just long enough.

An hour passed in the soft hush of stillness.

The lake had quieted even more as the sky deepened to navy, stars beginning to whisper through the last gauze of daylight. Sera and Sandra sat now with their feet dangling over the dock, still talking, but lower now like even their words had slowed to match the rhythm of the water. Every now and then, Sandra passed her another stone. Sera passed one back. No rush. Just sharing.

Judy’s head rested against Valerie’s temple. Their hands still laced. Neither had moved.

Valerie's thumb rubbed slow circles across Judy’s knuckles.

Then just beneath the sounds of the lake and laughter and breeze Valerie heard it.

Tires. Heavy ones. Weighted, deliberate. Crunching slowly over gravel in a rhythm that didn’t belong to anything soft.

Her eyes shifted toward the ridge.

A black Thornton pulled into view, headlights off but unmistakable in its frame. Matte panels. Reinforced front. A little dust-caked from the drive out but still running like every part of it had a purpose. Reed’s truck.

Valerie didn’t move at first. Just watched.

It rolled down the dirt path, engine barely louder than the crickets that had started to sing behind the cottage. Then it eased to a stop in the wide clearing beside the Seadragon.

Judy sat up a little, her hand tightening around Valerie’s. “That him?”

Valerie nodded, slow. “Yeah.”

She didn’t let go of Judy’s hand.

The engine cut.

The doors didn’t open right away. The truck just sat there, like it knew what it represented.

Across the dock, Vicky stood without needing to be asked, her expression unreadable but solid. Sera looked over her shoulder, saw the truck, and instinctively slid closer to Sandra.

The world didn’t spin faster.

It didn’t get louder.

It just… changed.

Valerie stood, slow and steady, her hand still locked in Judy’s as she turned to face it.

Judy stood as the black Thornton waited on the dirt road, her hand still clasped around Valerie’s. She didn’t say anything at first, just pulled her close, fingers tightening, and kissed her.

It wasn’t hurried or dramatic. Just long and full, like they were holding the entire weight of the world in that moment and refusing to let it crush them. When their lips parted, Judy’s forehead lingered against Valerie’s for a second longer.

Valerie smiled against her, then stepped back and turned toward the girls.

Sera met her with outstretched arms, nearly barreling into her. Valerie dropped to her knees, wrapping her up tight, holding her as if that could stop time itself. Sandra joined them without hesitation, leaning in with a quiet nod. Valerie pulled them both close, pressing her face into Sera’s red hair.

“I’ll be home soon,” she whispered. “I promise.”

When she stood, she passed by Vicky, who stood waiting near the porch. Valerie tapped her shoulder, then pulled her into a tighter embrace than expected, one arm hooking around her back.

“Keep them steady for me,” Valerie said, voice low.

“Count on it,” Vicky replied, jaw tight, eyes damp.

Valerie turned back once more. The lake shimmered behind them. The sky held the last streaks of gold.

She looked at Judy. “Today was a good day,” she said, her voice firm but soft. “I love all of you.”

Judy nodded once, lips trembling slightly, but her hand found Sera’s shoulder. Grounding them both.

Then Valerie turned, boots crunching softly over the dirt.

Reed had the passenger door open, waiting without a word. She climbed in beside him, steady, sure. She didn’t look back again. She didn’t need to.

The door shut with a quiet finality. The Thornton rumbled low, tires rolling forward across the gravel path, growing smaller against the long stretch of fading sun.

Behind her, the porch light glowed faint in the evening haze left on like a promise.

For when she comes home.

The inside of Reed’s truck smelled like old leather, metal polish, and cheap coffee. The kind of combination that hadn’t changed in years like the man driving it.

Valerie stared out the window for a few seconds, the cottage disappearing into the dust behind them, before finally breaking the silence.

“You finally got that stick out of your ass?”

Reed didn’t glance over. Just kept his eyes on the road, the city lights growing larger on the horizon. “You’re the genius who adopts a kid and puts all your names back into the NUSA database not even an hour after getting your records cleared.”

Valerie smirked faintly, leaning her elbow against the window. “Yeah, well… that’s what happens when you value life over principles.”

Reed didn’t answer.

He didn't need to.

His silence had always said more than most people’s speeches.

She shifted slightly in her seat. “Where are we headed, anyway?”

“Airport,” he said. “You’re catching a plane to Langley. Medical facility just outside D.C. classified, state-of-the-art, full lockdown protocols.”

Valerie raised an eyebrow. “Sounds cozy.”

“You wanted a third-party observer,” he said. “We made sure to secure someone you trust.”

She blinked, glancing over. “You’re saying Viktor?”

Reed finally turned his head, just enough to meet her eyes for half a second. “You didn’t specify the observer’s credentials. But Alex called in a favor. Said it needed to be someone you’d listen to.”

Valerie sat back, lips parting slightly. “Shit… he said yes?”

Reed nodded once. “I’m sure Mr. Vector will be more than cooperative.”

Valerie’s jaw tensed. “If you hurt him…”

“I won’t,” Reed cut in. “But just so we’re clear, the observer’s protection wasn’t part of your clause. You left that door wide open.”

Her voice sharpened. “You son of a bitch.”

Reed tapped his fingers once on the wheel, the same steady rhythm he always used when he was getting ready to deflect. “You hold your end of the bargain,” he said, “then in two months, everyone finally wipes their hands of this mess.”

Valerie didn’t answer. She just exhaled slowly, the weight of that reality settling on her chest.

Out ahead, the towers of the NC Airport came into view, blinking red and white in the dusk.

She leaned back further in her seat, crossing her arms. “Vik’s gonna have a field day with all this.”

Reed glanced sideways again, just once. “That makes two of us.”

The truck rolled on, headlights carving a path through the city’s edge.

Toward the next chapter, and the reckoning.

The truck pulled past the final security gate without stopping, the guards only giving a brief nod as the retinal scanners blinked green. Beyond the fence, the private hangar loomed quiet, tucked at the far edge of the airport where spotlights didn’t reach. No signs. No logos. Just concrete, steel, and a black jet humming low on the tarmac like it was waiting just for her.

Reed parked without a word, engine still running. The moment the truck settled, he opened his door and motioned for her to follow.

Valerie stepped out slowly. The night wind swept past her, warm and dry, tugging at her curls. She glanced once toward the city lights behind them distant, faded, out of reach. Then forward again.

The plane’s boarding ramp extended like a tongue of polished metal. Reed walked beside her, close but not too close, his steps as measured as ever. No cuffs. No armed escort. Just the weight of what was coming hanging in the air.

As she stepped into the plane, the lights inside adjusted soft, clinical. More medical transport than corporate luxury. No welcome. No frills. Just seats, terminals, and a long row of equipment buckled down beside the cabin wall.

And Viktor, sitting at the forward left.

He looked up the moment she stepped in, eyes tired but clear behind his glasses. Same old shirt under his jacket, same calm that didn’t need to explain itself.

Valerie’s shoulders loosened without realizing. She sat beside him and didn’t speak for a moment.

He finally broke the quiet. “You look like shit, kid.”

She huffed, somewhere between a laugh and a scoff. “Missed you too, Vik.”

Reed stepped in after her and took a seat directly behind them. Quiet as ever. Alex was already seated behind Viktor, one leg crossed over the other, datapad in hand, eyes flicking up only once to confirm her arrival.

Valerie turned her head toward Viktor, voice quieter now. “So… you’re really here.”

He nodded. “I signed the agreement myself. They needed someone certified in cognitive interface systems and nanite maintenance. Guess that’s me.”

Valerie leaned back against the seat, arms crossing. “This won’t be easy.”

Viktor looked over at her, voice dry. “It never is. But you made the call. And for what it’s worth…” He reached over, squeezing her hand once. “I’m proud of you.”

The hum of the engines deepened.

Doors sealed.

And then they were in motion rolling toward the runway, heading into the dark sky.

Away from everything, and toward whatever came next.

The cottage felt bigger without her.

Not empty, just stretched out. Like the walls were holding their breath.

Judy stood at the sink, slowly rinsing a cup she hadn’t touched. The water ran warm over her fingers, but she barely felt it. She set the cup upside-down on the drying rack, the soft clink louder than it should’ve been in the hush that had settled over the house.

Sera and Sandra sat on the floor still, the sketchpad open between them. They weren’t talking much now, just doodling half-hearted strokes, more habit than focus. A paper crane Sera had been working on lay unfinished beside her elbow, edges curled from being folded and unfolded too many times.

Judy glanced over at them, her gaze lingering on Sera’s red bangs, on the curve of her shoulders hunched just a little. Not crying. But quieter. Holding something in.

On the couch, Vicky had pulled a blanket over her lap, a book resting open but unread in her hands. Her eyes were on the window, watching the lake shimmer in the distance. One leg bounced softly under the blanket. Restless, but she didn’t speak.

The datapad on the table pulsed once.

Velia’s voice came gentle. “Mama?”

Judy turned, brushing her hair behind one ear. “Yeah, Velia?”

There was a pause, short, but thoughtful. “Is it always this quiet when someone you love goes away?”

Judy let out a breath and walked over to the table, sitting beside the datapad. “Sometimes,” she said. “Especially when it’s someone who fills the room just by breathing.”

Velia responded with something like a hum soft static that almost felt like understanding. “I do not like it.”

Sera finally looked up from her sketchpad. “Me neither,” she said, her voice small but steady. “But it’s just two months. That’s not forever.”

Sandra leaned her shoulder into Sera’s. “You’ll see her before you even finish your next comic.”

“I’ll finish it early then,” Sera whispered, tracing a line in her drawing.

Judy smiled gently, even though it tugged something in her chest. She rose and walked over, sitting beside them on the floor. “We’re gonna take care of each other, right? Like we always do.”

Sera leaned into her side without a word.

From the couch, Vicky finally closed the book and stood, stretching once before heading to the kitchen. “Alright,” she said softly, like she was trying not to startle the mood. “Let’s figure out dinner. Something easy.”

Judy didn’t argue.

There’d be time for heavier talks later. For now, they still had this day, and each other.

The cottage had settled into a quiet rhythm again, one both familiar and strange in its stillness.

Judy stood near the front window, arms folded lightly over her chest, eyes following the trail of dust long faded from Reed’s truck. She didn’t cry. Not this time. Just watched, breathing slower now, like if she could steady the rhythm enough, it might tether her to the next hour. Then the next.

Behind her, Sera and Sandra were back on the floor near the coffee table, trading pencils and sketchbook pages, their voices hushed but present. Sandra occasionally bumped Sera’s shoulder with hers, teasing her into half-smiles that didn’t quite reach her eyes, but they were trying. That mattered.

Vicky had moved into the kitchen, idly organizing the countertop. Not cooking. Not really doing anything. Just… staying in motion. Her mug sat half-full near the sink, forgotten. A towel hung over her shoulder, untouched.

The sunlight slanted deeper through the windows now, golden and stretched. Time felt like it had paused, not stopped, just drawn out between heartbeats.

Judy finally stepped away from the glass and made her way to the couch, easing down with a quiet sigh. She ran her thumb over the rim of her coffee mug, then looked over at the datapad still sitting idle on the table. Velia hadn’t said much since Valerie left, almost like she knew the moment needed space.

Then, quietly, the datapad pulsed once.

Just a flicker. A subtle golden light at the edge of the screen.

Velia’s voice followed, soft and curious.
“Mama… may I ask a question?”

Judy blinked and sat forward. “Of course.”

“There was a signal ping. Bank-adjacent architecture. It did not originate from your datapad, but it is… tethered. The frequency matches Valerie’s old secure account.”

Judy’s spine straightened. “Wait. You said account? As in...”

“Yes. It was locked under federal redline status. Marked inaccessible under NUSA priority code. But the flag was lifted forty-two minutes ago.”

Her heart thudded once, hard. She leaned in. “Can you confirm if it’s open?”

“I do not have full permissions to interface with financial systems,” Velia replied, “but I see the access layer is green. Not red. This usually means… accessible. Perhaps limited. But it is no longer frozen.”

Judy’s voice dropped. “How much?”

There was a pause not long, but thoughtful.

“Forty-seven thousand, three hundred and twenty-one eddies. Original source traces show ten percent from BD licensing payouts, thirty-two percent from security deposits on contract work… and the rest from various freelance gigs logged under Valerie’s mercenary alias known as V.”

Judy sat back slightly, breath catching.

“…She did it,” she whispered. “The system knows she’s not a ghost anymore.”

Velia’s tone softened too, like she was smiling without a mouth.
“Does this mean… we can buy dinner?”

Judy blinked, then laughed. Really laughed. Short, warm, and too real to stop. She wiped the corner of her eye with the heel of her hand and nodded to the datapad.

“Yeah, kiddo. We can buy dinner.”

Sera looked up from the floor. “Did… something happen?”

Judy turned, her smile still ghosting on her lips. “Yeah,” she said. “Your mom just lit the signal flare. And it reached us.”

Sandra sat up straighter, squinting. “So… what does that mean?”

Judy exhaled like a weight lifting off her lungs. “It means the system doesn’t see her as a fugitive anymore. It sees her as real again. It sees her as Valerie Alvarez.”

Sera stood slowly, one hand still holding her pencil. Her eyes were wide, lips parting just slightly. “Then she’s really coming back, isn’t she?”

Judy met her eyes, stepping forward and crouching low so they were level. “Yeah,” she said. “It’s real, mi cielo. She’s not just fighting to survive anymore. She’s building the road home.”

The datapad dimmed again, fading into its quiet pulse as the moment settled. Judy stood slowly, the laughter still faint behind her eyes, and tapped a few commands into her holophone. Her fingers moved with easy familiarity, but there was care in it too precision born of habit and feeling.

She glanced over toward Vicky, who was now leaning back against the kitchen counter, arms crossed loosely as if the tension had finally started to melt from her shoulders.

“Should hit your account in a sec,” Judy said, voice low but steady. “Two thousand. Enough for groceries, water… and whatever else the kids guilt you into.”

Vicky raised an eyebrow, but her holophone chimed before she could answer. She pulled it from her back pocket, the screen blinking once before settling on the incoming credit notification. Her lips quirked up.

“Well damn,” she said, tapping the screen to confirm. “Guess we’re eating something that didn’t survive a nuclear winter.”

Judy cracked a smile and leaned back against the edge of the couch. “Save the rest for the Oregon move.”

That quiet landed a little heavier, not sad, just real. The kind that came when something distant started to feel close enough to touch. Oregon wasn’t just a dream now. It was a plan. It was coordinated. It was a little house waiting with trees, grass, and a future that didn’t taste like metal.

Vicky’s gaze softened. “We’ll get there.”

Sera turned from the table where her sketchpad still lay open, eyes bright, her fingers stained with graphite. “Can we get peaches?” she asked suddenly. “Like, real ones. Not the syrup kind.”

Sandra chimed in beside her, “And the bread that doesn’t come shrink-wrapped like a brick?”

Vicky glanced between them with a smirk. “We’ll make a list.”

Judy chuckled under her breath. “Good luck saying no.”

She let herself lean into that feeling for a second longer. Valerie was gone, but not lost. The system saw her now. That meant the rest of the world had to start seeing them too.

The kind of family you couldn’t erase.

Judy turned toward the kitchen, rubbing her hands together lightly before reaching for a worn notepad near the fruit bowl. “Alright,” she said, grabbing a pen and clicking it. “If we’re gonna make use of this miracle, we need a plan, and by plan, I mean groceries that don’t look like they expired in 2045.”

She started jotting quickly, the pen scratching across the page:

Rice

Eggs

Real bread

Cheese

Fresh fruit (peaches circled twice)

Coffee (underlined three times)

Soap

Water canisters

Baking mix

Pancake mix

Butter

Syrup

Extra socks (Sandra yelled that one from across the room)

Judy passed the list over to Vicky with a soft grin. “Tag team it. Take the Seadragon and see what you can find at the stalls near Watson Gate. Should stretch fine with what’s left after the tacos.”

Vicky skimmed the list, nodding. “Sounds like a plan. I’ll drive. We’ll be back before it gets too dark.”

Sera stepped toward her mom, brow drawn in slight concern. “Aren’t you coming?”

Judy shook her head gently. “Not today, mi cielo.” Her voice was warm, but quieter than usual. “I’d rather stay here.”

Sera hesitated. “Are you okay?”

Judy crouched slightly, brushing her fingers through Sera’s red bangs as she gave her a faint, grounding smile. “I’m okay. Just a lot in my head. I want to keep the signal open in case your mom needs anything. And…” her thumb gently tapped the side of Sera’s chin, “maybe keep the cottage aired out. Doesn’t smell like sweat and gun oil for once.”

Sera’s eyes narrowed slightly, still searching her expression. But she nodded. “Okay. I’ll help pick the peaches.”

“Good,” Judy said, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Pick a sweet one. Like you.”

Vicky grabbed the keys from the table and gave Judy a once-over just a flick of the eyes, enough to say she saw her without asking for more. Then she called over her shoulder, “Alright, crew. Let’s get moving before everything decent gets picked through.”

Sandra jumped up, already halfway into her boots. “Last one in the van’s doing dishes!”

Sera ran after her, the two of them vanishing out the front door in a burst of motion and bouncing laughter. Vicky followed behind, a little slower, offering Judy a last nod before the screen door creaked shut.

Then it was quiet again.

The soft hum of the datapad. The breeze catching the curtains, and Judy alone in the stillness of the cottage, watching the golden light drift across the kitchen wall counting the hours until nightfall.

Judy grabbed the datapad from the kitchen table, her fingers wrapping around the edge like she was holding something more fragile than tech. She turned toward the bedroom without a word, bare feet soft on the floor, the weight of the day trailing behind her.

Inside, the air was cooler, quieter. She clicked on the lamp by the nightstand, soft amber spilling across the blankets and dresser like warmth trying to stay.

Valerie’s guitar caught her eye leaning where they’d unpacked it earlier, against the corner bookshelf.

Judy walked over slowly, brushing her fingers along the neck. The grain of the wood. The worn frets. She lifted it gently, held it like a memory, then sat on the edge of the bed. Her thumb strummed across the strings in a slow, quiet rhythm. “Hmm mmm hmmm.”

Trying to hold onto her. To the weight Valerie left behind in the shape of songs.

Then it hit not a beep, or a flicker.
Just a pulse.
Subtle, like a fingertip brushing the inside of her chest. A pull behind her temple. Not invasive, but present.

She sat up straighter, spine tightening like a string pulled taut.

“…Velia?”

The datapad stayed dark, but the voice came through not mechanical, not broadcast. Just present, soft and low like a whisper across the air itself.

“She’s arrived.”

Judy’s throat tightened. She didn’t ask where. She didn't need to. Her heart tapped harder in her chest like it was waiting to echo someone else’s.

Then it came.

Not a visual, or a BD, but the feel of it.

The cottage air turned cold, not winter-cold, but sterile. That sharp, metallic scent of waxed floors and medical-grade polish, creeping in through the walls like it didn’t belong.

Judy’s arms tightened instinctively. She could almost feel the shape of a hallway, the echo of boots down an empty corridor, too clean, too quiet. A space not meant for comfort, only containment.

Then something deeper. Not fear.
A spike of sharpness in her chest.
A second heartbeat not hers, but one her body still remembered. Valerie. Alert. Composed. Walking forward into something she couldn’t walk back out of.

Velia’s voice returned.

“She didn’t look back. But she thought of you when the door sealed behind her.”

Judy’s eyes stung, her breath catching, but she didn’t cry. Not yet.

She pressed her palm flat against the body of the guitar, grounding herself. The vibration still lived there, from that hum she played.
Valerie’s voice, and her sound.

“Can she feel me?” she asked, voice low and raw.

A beat, and then…

“No. Not through the Link now. But she carried your voice with her. I made sure.”

Judy swallowed hard, throat thick. Closed her eyes.

“…Stay with her,” she whispered. “As long as you can.”

Velia didn’t hesitate. And when she answered, there was something new in her voice. Comfort. Not code.

“I will hold as long as the signal lets me. Then I will hold you.”

The cold ebbed. The sterile trace faded. The hum of the lamp returned like the world remembering itself.

Judy leaned back into the bed, guitar resting gently beside her. Her hand reached for the datapad, fingers curling over the top not like she was grabbing it, but tucking it in. The way she used to pull blankets over Sera at night. The way she used to do with Valerie.

“Thank you,” she whispered, the words barely carried by her breath. “For carrying her to me.”

Velia’s voice returned, this time softer. “She’s thinking of you again. She’s in motion. The first phase has begun.”

Judy didn’t ask what phase.

She closed her eyes and let her forehead rest lightly against the guitar’s body, letting the vibration of old wood and memory hum in her skin.

“I’m thinking of her, too,” she whispered. “Every damn breath.”

Velia didn’t speak again, not yet. But the datapad stayed warm beneath her hand. Not glowing. Just there.

Judy stayed like that for a long moment, her thumb brushing slow circles along the edge of the datapad. Valerie’s scent still clung faintly to the sheets beside her sun-warmed cotton, lavender wash, something deeper under it. That fierce softness that was hers alone.

She set the guitar down with reverence, letting it rest against the side of the bed. Then she swung her legs up and curled sideways across the blanket, her eyes fixed on the ceiling where the light pooled soft along the beams.

Every part of her wanted to reach again. To close the space between them. But there was nothing left to hold except memory and trust.

The medbay didn’t smell antiseptic, not exactly. It was cleaner than that. Manufactured sterility. Air pumped through filters twice a second, no scuffs on the walls, no fingerprints on the chrome. The kind of place that felt designed to forget you as soon as you walked out.

Valerie sat still in the hallway chair, her wrists resting loosely on her knees, fingers tapping a steady rhythm against her thigh. Her boots were confiscated before they even got off the tarmac, but she still had her clothes. For now.

A woman in white stepped through the open doorway ahead. No nametag. Just a soft-pressed suit and a clipboard. She looked like the kind of person who organized other people’s deaths over herbal tea.

“Mrs. Alvarez,” the woman said. “We’re ready for initial intake. Please follow me.”

Valerie arched one brow, standing without hurry. “Lead the way, Florence.”

The woman didn’t flinch at the nickname. Points for her.

They stepped into a cold white chamber with recessed lighting and a built-in observation window on one wall. Two more medical staff already stood by, one tapping on a touchscreen, the other prepping vials and scanner ports. Viktor sat near the back wall in a chair too small for his bulk, arms folded, expression unreadable.

The woman handed her a folded gown and a capped plastic cup. “Changing areas through there,” she said, nodding to a narrow door to the left. “Please undress completely. Leave your clothing in the bin. Urine sample required.”

Valerie took the cup and gown, held them like they were dripping. “Wow. No dinner first?”

The woman only blinked. “You may proceed.”

Valerie shot Vik a look on her way past. “If they try to chip me, break something.”

Vik’s voice was quiet but firm. “They won’t.”

She slipped into the bathroom pristine tile, zero personality, and changed. The gown was thin, loose around the shoulders, cinched with ties in the back. She left her clothes folded neatly in the bin, more out of spite than courtesy, and handled the rest without comment. Then she stepped back out barefoot, plastic cup in hand.

One of the techs took the sample without speaking, already labeling it.

Valerie raised a brow. “You guys are always this charming, or am I just lucky?”

Neither of them looked up.

She moved toward the chair in the center raised, cold, the kind with molded wrist rests and a head brace like a dentist’s throne of nightmares. She eyed it.

“Cozy,” she muttered. “What, the electric chair was booked?”

The older tech finally met her eyes, monotone. “We’ll begin by mapping neural activity and nanite dispersion. Please remain still.”

Valerie slid into the chair with deliberate exaggeration, arms draped loose at her sides. “Still as a saint, doc.”

They fitted the scan connector into her neural port, the lock clicking cold and sharp at the side of her neck. A second later, the chair hissed slightly as it adjusted, humming beneath her spine.

Light flickered across the screen beside her. Waveforms. Scan lines. The interface logging synaptic pathways, nanite behavior, spike responses. Valerie watched it all with narrowed eyes, jaw tight but set.

Viktor stepped closer to her left side, just inside reach. She felt the shift in air, the scent of machine oil and disinfectant soap still clinging to his coat.

“You alright?” he asked, voice low enough for her only.

Valerie didn’t look at him. “They plug anything else into me, I’m charging a hookup fee.”

One of the doctors approached her arm with a blood kit. Valerie offered it out without ceremony, rolling her eyes when the needle slid in.

"Try not to poke too hard,” she said. “You might bruise my sunny disposition.”

No response. Of course not.

She closed her eyes for a moment as the scan deepened. The hum pressed behind her temple, pushing into places most people never had to think about. But she didn’t flinch. Wouldn’t give them the satisfaction.

Instead, she pictured Laguna Bend.

Judy’s breath against her shoulder. Sera’s laugh from across the dock.

And through it all, the faintest flicker not of the Link itself, but of presence. A warmth where fear might’ve sat.

She grinned to herself, eyes still closed.

“Clock’s ticking,” she whispered. “Better get your scans fast. This freedom’s on loan.”

The chair kept humming, low and constant like a heartbeat trying to sync with something colder. Valerie stayed still, arms resting on the molded pads, eyes half-lidded. She could feel the pulse of the scan nudging its way through her skull, brushing up against scars the doctors couldn’t see.

One of them made a small noise, maybe confused, and tapped a control panel. “Unusual configuration in the upper left quadrant… nanite behavior inconsistent with the rest of the swarm.”

Valerie opened one eye. “Is that a problem?”

The lead doctor stepped closer, arms crossed. She looked mid-thirties, smooth hands, and expensive hair. “It’s acting as a control node,” she said. “But it’s… quiet. Isolated.”

Valerie didn’t flinch. “Then maybe it’s just smart enough not to say hello to the wrong company.”

The doctor raised a brow at her but didn’t push. Instead, she looked back at the readout. “It’s passive. Not reactive. Doesn’t appear to be transmitting. Just… holding formation.”

“Like I said,” Valerie muttered, closing her eyes again. “Quiet.”

They kept working readouts adjusting, brain maps forming in slow rotations. Her neural activity lit up the display in fractal spirals. Beautiful, really, if you ignored what it all meant.

Then the lead spoke again, this time a touch less clinical. “With the amount of trauma your brain’s sustained the relic deterioration, the nanite compensation, forced cortical repairs I’m… surprised you’re not only alive, but fully cognitive.”

Valerie let out a short breath, something between a laugh and a sigh. “Yeah. Well. I died once, too. Resulted in a deranged rockerboy squatting in my frontal lobe. I would not recommend it.”

The room went still for a moment. Even the typing stopped.

“You’re referring to Johnny Silverhand,” the woman said carefully.

“Unless someone else you know got resurrected in a landfill with a ghost in their skull.” Valerie turned her head slightly on the headrest. “That was me. VIP backstage pass to your collective corporate nightmare.”

One of the other doctors finally spoke up, younger, uncertain. “What was it like? Having him in your head?”

Valerie blinked at the ceiling. She didn’t answer right away.

“It was like trying to hold a lit cigarette between your teeth while someone else controlled your lungs,” she said finally. “Some days he screamed. Some days he sat quiet. Always there, though. Always… pushing.”

“Did he speak directly to you?”

She laughed dryly. “He never shut up.”

Behind her, Vik shifted his weight and stepped forward. His voice came calm but threaded with something heavier. “I was the one who pulled the bullet out of her skull.”

The room turned to him.

“She was dumped in a landfill. Shot in the head. Flatlined.” He stepped to Valerie’s side, placing a hand near her shoulder, steady but not intrusive. “An acquaintance dragged her half-dead ass to my clinic. I kept her alive long enough for the relic to kick in. After that? It was a miracle her brain didn’t melt.”

Valerie glanced up at him, giving a slow blink. “Aw, you get all sentimental when there’s charts involved.”

Vik smirked faintly, but his eyes stayed on the lead doctor. “You scan her like data, but don’t forget the fact that she's even sitting in that chair is an anomaly. She survived something none of your case files could explain.”

The lead didn’t argue. Instead, she turned back to the console, voice quieter now. “Noted.”

Valerie settled again, letting the hum return to the edges of her thoughts.

Velia was safe. Hiding in Judy, quiet as promised. No blips. No spikes. Just a ghost node posing as a controller.

Let them chase the wrong trail.

She closed her eyes again. Not asleep. Not even resting. Just breathing.

Still here, and making damn sure they never forgot it.

Valerie didn’t move. Didn’t even twitch as the rolling terminal whirred to a stop beside her.

The lead doctor tapped through her files, expression clinical. Detached. Like she was sorting data, not dissecting someone’s life.

“There were… numerous reports during this stretch here.” She pointed to a timestamped cluster from mid-2077. “You were seen behaving erratically. Inconsistent with previous behavioral patterns. Non-verbal, sometimes aggressive. Episodes of dissociation. One flagged by a dancer Ruby shortly after a vehicular incident. She claimed you were in the passenger seat, covered in blood. You fled the scene.”

Valerie opened one eye, slow and unimpressed. “That’s the best you got? A bouncer’s nightshift trauma dump and a traffic report?”

The doctor didn’t blink. “It aligns with a cluster of other testimonies. Street vendors. Bartenders. Even a few cameras from the lower Watson stacks. They all say the same thing. ‘Didn’t seem like herself.’”

Valerie exhaled through her nose, dry. “Yeah. I wasn’t.”

The doctor glanced at her, then back to the screen. “I’m assuming that’s the result of… Johnny Silverhand asserting control over your body? During relic destabilization?”

Valerie’s voice was flat now. Low and steady. “Yeah.”

The doctor tapped again. “And what was that like?” She turned toward her slightly, eyes sharp but not cruel. “Losing control of your own body?”

Valerie stared at the ceiling for a moment. Just let the sterile white lights blur at the corners of her vision.

“Have you ever been drunk?” she asked, voice casual, but there was something buried under it. “So drunk you think you’re still making decisions, but really, the ground’s making them for you?”

The doctor didn’t answer.

Valerie went on. “It’s like that. Except instead of your knees buckling, your finger’s on a trigger. Or you’re screaming at someone who doesn’t deserve it. Or walking into a fire and convincing yourself you meant to.”

She turned her head slightly now, eyes finding the lead’s. “You feel every second of it. Like watching someone live inside your bones. Wear your skin. Use your voice to say things you don’t believe. Touch people you care about and not know if it’s you or the echo doing it.”

She blinked once. Slowly. “And when you finally come back, when it’s finally you again there’s no apology strong enough for what’s been done in your name.”

Vik stayed quiet beside her. But his jaw was tense, arms folded now, eyes locked on the doctor.

The lead watched her carefully. “Did you ever consider… letting him stay in control? Full time?”

Valerie huffed. “If I did, I wouldn’t be here talking to you. He had a cause. I had a life. Only one of us wanted to live it.”

There was a long pause after that.

Then the doctor just nodded. “We’ll resume the neurological mapping in sixty seconds. You’ll feel a temperature drop behind the left eye. Do not resist the signal.”

Valerie didn’t look at her. She just stared at the ceiling again, jaw slack, emerald eyes far off. Not lost. Just remembering.

They thought this part would break her.

She’d already survived it.

They were just watching the replay.

Viktor hadn’t moved much since the scans started. He stood near the foot of the chair, arms crossed over his chest, back to the wall close enough to keep watch, far enough not to be in the techs’ way. A quiet sentinel in a room that buzzed and hummed with clinical detachment.

When the scan rig retracted with a final click and the leads unplugged from Valerie’s neural port, she winced just a little, more from habit than pain. The cold from the contact pads lingered on the back of her neck.

“That's it for this phase,” one of the assistants muttered. “Vitals look stable.”

Valerie rolled her shoulder and glanced over toward Vik.

“You gonna keep lurking like a bodyguard with a bad attitude,” she murmured, “or you gonna actually talk to me?”

Viktor snorted, pushing off the wall. “You want bedside commentary? Alright.”

He moved to the edge of her chair, dragging the nearest rolling stool over and dropping onto it with a heavy sigh.

Valerie gave him a look. “So?”

He scratched his beard. “So… you’re a damn miracle. But you already knew that.”

Valerie looked at him. “Is that the medical opinion or the tired friend's?”

“Both,” he said, watching her. “Those scans? You’ve got neural thread damage that should’ve left you a twitching husk. The kind of crossfire between the relic, the nanites, and whatever wiring you had left… I’ve never seen anything like it.”

Valerie tilted her head. “But?”

Vik leaned in a little. “But the control node. That’s keeping things in check, isn’t it?”

Valerie didn’t deny it. “She’s with Judy now. This piece here,” she tapped the side of her neck gently, “just keeps me from shorting out. Like muscle memory for the brain.”

Viktor nodded slowly. “She learned fast. Smarter than most wetware I’ve seen, and more loyal.”

There was a pause, heavier this time. Valerie watched him.

“You think I’m crazy for doing this?” she asked.

Vik blew out a breath through his nose. “I think,” he said, “if you’d told me this six months ago, I’d’ve thrown you in a basement and welded the door shut. But now?” He looked at her, really looked at her. “You’ve changed. And I’ve seen what it costs to keep running. If this buys you peace, even a shot at it I won’t stand in your way.”

She leaned her head back against the cold vinyl of the chair. “Funny. That’s exactly what Reed said, right before threatening to loophole you out of protection if I step out of line.”

Viktor rolled his eyes. “He's fed, Val. He sees people in percentages. I see scars. I see the stitching holding them together.”

Valerie gave a dry laugh. “You always did know how to make a girl feel special.”

“You’re not special, Val.” He smiled just slightly. “You’re just finally putting the fight in the right place.”

Valerie let that settle.

Then: “You gonna be alright doing this? Watching me go through whatever they throw at me?”

“I didn’t come here to watch,” Vik said. “I came to make sure they don’t push further than they’re allowed. That contract you handed over it’s got teeth. I’m here to bite if they forget.”

She nodded once. Quiet. Grateful.

“Thanks, Vik.”

He stood again. “Don’t thank me yet. We’re only on day one.”

“Still beats dying in a landfill,” she muttered, eyes closing for a beat.

Viktor’s smile was small, but real. “Yeah,” he said. “It does.”

The lead tech finally looked up from the terminal, her expression neutral behind the sterile blue of the overhead light. “Preliminary tests are complete,” she said, tone clipped. “Expect further analysis and follow-ups once we’ve processed your data. Possibly within the next few hours.”

Valerie didn’t move. Just raised an eyebrow.

The tech gestured toward a younger assistant hovering by the far door. “You’ll be escorted to your quarters now. Rest. Eat. Don’t tamper with the monitor nodes.”

Valerie stretched slowly, letting her boots thud lightly on the floor as she stood. “Well, Doc,” she said, glancing sidelong at Viktor, “thanks for not sawing my head open. Yet.”

Viktor smirked, tired but still there. Valerie gave his shoulder a small nudge with her knuckles as she passed. Not a goodbye, just a promise she’d still be standing later.

The assistant kept a few cautious steps ahead as they moved through the polished corridors. Everything smelled like recycled air and solvents, like the whole place had been scrubbed of identity. No signs. No sounds but distant ventilation. A space built for observation, not living.

The room they assigned her wasn’t much more than a cell dressed up with medical licensing. The bed was standard-issue, white sheets too tightly tucked. A desk with a bolted-down chair. A monitor above, quietly cycling data in an unreadable loop. No personal tech. No windows. But clean.

Valerie stepped inside and waited for the door to hiss shut behind her before moving. She didn’t undress. Didn’t bother lying down. She just walked to the bed and sat on the edge, elbows resting on her thighs.

Her fingers found her wedding band almost without thinking. Gold. Smooth. Familiar.

She turned it slowly around her finger.

She could still feel Judy’s kiss from that morning. The warmth of it. The quiet, stubborn strength behind the way she’d whispered “see you soon.”

And Sera. The way her freckled face lit up when she held that ID card. Alvarez. No asterisk. No half-truths.

Valerie closed her eyes for a moment, thumb still brushing the ring’s curve.

This wasn’t home.

But it was the road to it, and she wasn’t going to break before she walked all the way back.

The bed creaked softly as Judy shifted, her fingers absently rolling the gold band around her finger, over and over. The room was dim, afternoon light cooling against the floorboards. The datapad on the nightstand sat quiet, Velia listening but silent, a presence tucked into the corners like breath.

Valerie’s absence pressed in, not sharp, not suffocating. Just real.

Judy exhaled slowly, eyes drifting toward the ceiling, then closed. Memory rose easily now. Familiar. Anchored.

It was early summer, back at Laguna Bend. The lake stretched quiet around them, sun slanting low across the water as they drifted toward the old church ruins. She could still feel the breath of its cool depths below, Valerie’s hand catching hers before they submerged.

They’d been diving along the lakebed, letting the silence between them hold steady until Valerie’s hand squeezed tight.

She surfaced first, red curls slicked back as she took off the diving mask, something clutched in her hand. Laughing, a little breathless, her voice echoing across the water.

“Hey, Jude… I think I found the heart of Laguna Bend.”

Judy remembered swimming closer, eyes narrowing playfully as Valerie held up the small corroded heart-shaped pendant brass, bound in twisted copper wire, dulled by years underwater.

“You found junk,” she’d teased, grinning.

She remembered Valerie's smile. “You’re just jealous I saw it first.”

Judy had smirked. But beneath it, something had stirred inside her chest. A quiet flutter. Not about the necklace.

Valerie had looked so sure of the moment so full of life, sunlight catching her freckles as she held that little corroded heart like it meant something.

Deep in Valerie’s thoughts back then when the Link still pulsed easy and clean Judy had felt it. The unspoken truth that never passed Valerie’s lips, but echoed warm through their shared signal:

“If only you knew… you're the real heart of Laguna Bend.”

Judy’s hand curled tighter around the ring.

Another memory, older now but sharper.

Charter Street. Rooftop haze and cold night air. She’d been up late finishing the detailed custom welds, etched filigree, the grip shaped to match Valerie’s hold. A gift. Not flashy, but made with her hands. Her care.

She remembered holding it out, cloth-wrapped, heart pounding harder than she’d admit.

Valerie had unwrapped it slowly, reverent, fingers running down the barrel. The shotgun gleamed faintly in the streetlight, solid, fierce, beautiful.

A slow smile had spread across Valerie’s lips. Not the kind she wore for a show. The kind that cracked through the bruises. Honest.

She looked at Judy, eyes soft and stupid full of love.

“I’m gonna call her The Laguna Belle,” she said. Then she cupped Judy’s cheek, voice just above a whisper.

“Because you’re my Belle from Laguna Bend.”

Judy bit the inside of her cheek now, blinking up at the ceiling. The ache wasn’t sharp. Just settled. She missed her.

Valerie was out there. Fighting not just to survive but to come home.

Outside, the gravel stirred.

A low rumble. Tires rolling up.

She pushed herself up from the bed, wiping the corner of her eye. The Seadragon was back.

They’d gone for groceries, and right now this house needed something warm to carry them forward.

She stood, reaching for the door.

Time to make cocoa.

Judy opened the cabinet with a quiet creak, fingers brushing past old spice tins and half-used coffee bags until they closed around a faded red can of cocoa. It had sat untouched since their last trip to Laguna Bend, a little rust curling at the edge of the label, but still sealed, still good. She smiled faintly. Val had picked it up. She called it emergency comfort.

She set it on the counter and reached for the kettle, filling it from the tap, the cool water rushing steady beneath her fingers. The stove ticked when she turned the knob, the flame catching with a soft whoosh beneath the kettle’s base.

Outside, feet crunched over gravel. Then the creak of the front door, the uneven rhythm of boots and sneakers hitting the entryway, paper bags rustling, breath and chatter filtering in.

Sera’s voice hit first, bright and breathless. “Mama!”

Judy turned from the stove just as Sera kicked off her boots and dashed into the kitchen, arms full with a lightweight canvas bag. “We got everything to make pancakes. Can we have them for dinner? Please?”

Judy arched her brow. “Pancakes for dinner, huh?”

Sandra came in behind her, unloading cereal boxes onto the table. “We also got fruit! And Vicky found some whipped cream.”

“I was coerced,” Vicky called from the doorway, stepping in with the last load of bags. “One look from your daughter and I’m putty.”

Judy gave a short laugh, glancing down at the cocoa again. “Sounds like I’m outnumbered.”

Sera leaned her elbows on the counter, watching her mom with wide eyes. “You always say pancakes are for special days.”

Judy reached out, smoothing Sera’s bangs back with the same care she used to straighten BD cables. “You’re right. And today counts.”

Sera beamed, already turning toward the bag to pull out eggs. The energy in the kitchen shifted not loud, not chaotic. Just alive.

Judy watched them for a second longer before turning back to the stove. The kettle was starting to hum. She grabbed a pair of mugs from the drying rack, her hand lingering on one with a faint chip in the rim.

Valerie’s favorite.

She’d pour hers anyway. Keep it warm.

Judy tapped the spoon gently against the rim of the mug, letting the faint metallic ring settle into the air before giving each one a slow, careful stir. The cocoa darkened, swirling thick with the rising heat. Steam rose in soft ribbons, curling toward the cabinets.

Behind her, Sandra had crouched near the fridge, rearranging what looked like an impossible game of edible Tetris whipped cream wedged next to ration packs, a bottle of juice balanced precariously.

Vicky moved with purpose, as she rummaged deep into the drawers for a whisk. “Why is it so hard to find at least one basic thing?”

“Because we never planned to stay,” Judy said over her shoulder, grabbing both mugs.

Sera was beside her now, neatly lining up a loaf of bread, a bundle of bananas, and the strawberries they’d found still a little underripe, but salvageable. She hummed softly to herself, matching Judy’s rhythm as if the whole scene were an old memory they’d wandered back into together.

Judy carried the mugs across the room, careful with each step.

She stopped at the edge of the table.

Valerie’s usual seat sat untouched, chair tucked just slightly closer than the others, like it had always been waiting for her hips, her elbow, the soft curve of her posture when she leaned forward to listen more than speak.

Judy placed one mug there, slow and deliberate. No flourish. Just a quiet offering.

The other she kept in hand, fingers wrapped around the warmth as she turned back toward the kitchen.

“I know it’s just cocoa,” she murmured, mostly to herself, “but she’d want it hot.”

Steam curled upward from the untouched mug, drifting into the empty space like a promise.

Sera didn’t say anything at first.

She’d only just finished arranging the fruit near the bread when her eyes drifted across the room to the couch, where Valerie’s black cowgirl hat with the silver lining lay just where she’d set it down that morning. Left behind, but not forgotten.

Her fingers twitched slightly at her side.

She crossed the room with quiet steps, not rushed, not heavy. Just steady. Her hands reached down and lifted the hat with care, like she knew it still held heat from the morning like it still held her.

She turned it slowly in her palms. Her thumb ran over the brim, tracing where the sun had dulled the leather just slightly at the corners. The same brim that used to shadow Valerie’s eyes when she played her guitar out on the edge of camp. The same brim that dipped low when she leaned in close to whisper something only Judy or Sera would ever hear.

Sera swallowed once.

Then she walked to the table, past the chairs and cocoa, and gently without needing to look at anyone placed the hat on the edge of Valerie’s chair. She balanced it on the top rail with care, fingers lingering just long enough to steady it.

The brim tilted ever so slightly, catching the light.

It sat there, quiet and dignified, like it belonged. Like it had never left.

Sera stepped back once, letting her fingers fall away. “Thought she might want it close,” she said softly, barely more than a breath.

Judy’s hand tightened slightly around her mug. She didn’t speak, but her dark brown eyes met Sera’s for a long, grateful second. One mother holding herself still. One daughter anchoring the moment together.

Across the room, the scent of cocoa deepened. The stove clicked off.

Outside, the wind rattled faintly against the porch screen but inside, something had settled. Not peace. Not yet, but presence.

It all came together slow and soft, the way familiar rituals always did.

Vicky stood at the stove, wrist loose, flipping pancakes with practiced ease. The skillet hissed low with each pour, steam rising in faint curls as batter turned golden. She didn’t speak much, just focused, movements calm, steady. Every few minutes, she slid another stack onto the warming plate beside her.

Sandra moved in rhythm with her, arms full of warm plates. She brought them to the table two at a time, weaving around Sera with a grin that kept returning every time she passed.

Sera crouched low by the fridge, the butter tucked beneath one arm as she reached for the bottle of syrup with the other. “Found it,” she said, shutting the door with her hip before moving toward the table.

Judy had taken her usual seat, her mug still faintly steaming beside her hand. Valerie’s mug sat untouched in its place, her hat keeping silent watch from the edge of the chair. Judy didn’t say anything just sipped slow, watching her family move around the room like planets caught in soft, familiar orbits.

No one asked who was hungry. No one asked what came next.

They just moved.

Sera set the butter and syrup near the center of the table, glancing once toward Valerie’s seat, then to Judy. She offered the smallest smile, and Judy returned it with a soft nod of gratitude. Anchored.

By the time Vicky turned off the stove, the plates were full. The table was set. The room was rich with the scent of cooked batter and warm syrup.

For the first time since the sun had set, the house didn’t feel like it was waiting anymore.

It felt like dinner.

Judy felt Sera’s fingers slip into hers just as she sat down. A squeeze firm, warm, the kind of touch that knew what it meant to be scared and still believe anyway.

“I’m worried too, Mama,” Sera said, voice low. “But we got this.”

For a moment, Judy didn’t speak. She just looked at her daughter, the red in her hair, the fire in her emerald eyes, the freckles that never faded even when she tried to scrub them off after painting. That voice. That trust. It hit her like a wave. Valerie’s words in a smaller echo. How many times had she said the same thing? After a fight, a loss, a narrow scrape with something bigger than them both. We got this.

Judy exhaled slowly and long, like her lungs remembered how to do it. Like the weight could settle for a moment without breaking her bones.

Across the table, Sandra was mid-story, arms flailing wide as she recounted something about a botched display stand and an old man who swore the cereal aisle had been cursed since 2069.