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Chapter Text

Westbrook – 10:18 PM

The rain hammered Night City in relentless sheets, drumming against pavement slick with oil and neon reflections. The air carried the tang of ozone, gasoline, and the ever-present burn of urban excess. V adjusted the collar of her tailored jacket, shoulders tensed against the drizzle. It was muscle memory—old Corpo habits never really died. You walked with purpose. Kept your head up. Never looked like prey. The job was supposed to be simple. A quick in, quick out—recover a stolen data shard before some gonk pawned it off to the highest bidder. No witnesses, no collateral damage. A fixer gig, nothing extraordinary. But Night City had a way of twisting simplicity into a mess of corpses and bad blood. She spotted the mark, a lanky corpo with a nervous twitch, ducking into a narrow alley. One flickering lamp overhead cast uneven shadows, turning the space into a jagged monochrome. V exhaled and moved in, hand brushing against the pistol at her hip.

“Shitty spot for a deal,” she muttered, leaning against the wall. “Gonna get yourself flatlined doing biz like this.”

The corpo flinched, his cybernetic optics whirring to focus on her. He reached for something—probably a concealed piece. Then another voice cut through the tension.

“Step away from him.”

V turned her head slowly, taking in the figure emerging from the shadows.

The man was built like a wall—broad shoulders, strong frame, the kind of presence that turned heads without trying. He moved with an easy confidence, like someone who’d seen every kind of trouble this city could throw at him and walked away every time. The way his dark eyes locked onto her, steady and unreadable, sent a prickle down her spine.

He wasn’t just any badge.

NCPD.

“Didn’t know cops still gave a damn,” V mused, tilting her head. “Usually, you guys show up after the blood’s dried.”

The officer didn’t react, his gaze flicking between her and the corpo. “I need what he’s got.”

V scoffed. “Yeah? So do I.”

The mark saw his chance and bolted.

“Shit,” V muttered, already moving.

The cop was faster. In two strides, he caught the guy and slammed him against the alley wall, pinning him effortlessly. V barely had time to appreciate the efficiency before the Corpo went limp, gasping against the rain-streaked pavement.

Damn.

V whistled low, crossing her arms. “Didn’t know the NCPD trained you guys to be this quick.”

The man ignored her, rifling through the corpo’s pockets until he pulled out the shard. Examining it under the dim light, he slid it into his jacket like it belonged there. “And that’s that,” he said, straightening. V crossed her arms.

“And me?”

He met her gaze, unreadable. “Not my problem.” Something about his calm indifference pissed her off more than it should have. But before she could retort, the wail of sirens cut through the night. She took a step back.

“Guess that’s my cue.” He didn’t stop her. Just pocketed the shard and said, “Better luck next time.”

V smirked. “At least buy me a drink before screwing me over.”

For half a second, something flickered in his expression. Amusement? Maybe. But before she could read into it, she turned on her heel and disappeared into the city.

She didn’t get his name.

Didn’t think she’d ever need to.

***

The Afterlife – 11:45 PM

V nursed a whiskey at the bar, the ice melting into amber liquid as she rolled the glass between her fingers. She wasn’t even sure why she came here tonight—habit, maybe. The Afterlife was where legends were made, or at least where they tried to be. And yet, even surrounded by the best mercs in the city, she felt restless.

Johnny appeared beside her, flickering into existence with that familiar smirk. 'You keep staring at that drink like it’s got the answers.'

V sighed. “Maybe it does.”

'You got that look, V.' Johnny leaned on the bar, his flickering form unnervingly solid. 'Like something’s stuck in your head. Lemme guess—big guy from the alley?'

V scowled, but Johnny just chuckled. 'Oh-ho. I’m right, aren’t I? Can’t stop thinking about that badge. I'm surprise you got a taste for 'em pigs.'

“Fuck it, Johnny.”

'Sure, sure.' He waved a hand through her drink, glitching as he did. 'Just saying, something about him got under your skin.'

V knocked back her drink, letting the burn settle in her chest. Maybe Johnny wasn’t entirely wrong. Something about that guy that tick her off. Its is his demeanor? Or the fact that he ruined her job? All she knows, she never wish to see him again.

"Fuck"

***

A few days passed before V’s holo rang with an incoming call from an unknown number. She flicked her wrist, answering with a tired, "Yeah?"

The voice on the other end was smooth, controlled—Elizabeth Peralez.

"I assume you know who I am, V."

V leaned back against the window of her apartment, gaze sweeping over the neon-drenched skyline of Watson. "Word gets around. What can I do for you, Mrs. Peralez?"

"A job. High-profile. Discreet. Well-paid."

She got straight to the point—V liked that. "Go on."

Elizabeth hesitated, as if weighing her words. "Can we meet? I think its better if we talk this face to face, I'll send you the co-ords."

"Alright, I'll be there."

***

V pulled up to the given coordinates in Heywood, her Yaiba Kusanagi humming beneath her like a restless beast. She killed the engine and kicked down the stand, scanning her surroundings. A sleek, black luxury sedan sat idling in a garage bay, its tinted windows as impenetrable as Corpo Plaza’s deepest fortresses. Leaning against the car’s frame was a stocky man clad in a bulletproof vest and black cap, arms crossed over his broad chest. His stance was neutral, but the weight of his gaze pinned her in place. Militech, maybe ex-MaxTac. Either way, he reeked of hired muscle.

As she approached, he straightened up and pulled open the back passenger door without a word. V hesitated—couldn’t help the way her mind flickered to another luxury car, another time she stepped inside one and walked out of it dead. But she shoved the thought aside and slid in.

The man in the backseat was crisp, professional, and familiar in that way politicians always were. A tailored suit, pressed to perfection. Neat, well-kept brown hair. A smile that was equal parts warmth and calculation.

“Hello, V.” His voice was smooth, practiced. “I’m Jefferson Peralez.”

Her brain clicked into gear. Peralez. His name had been plastered all over N54 News for weeks now. The guy running for mayor.

“You’ve already spoken with Elizabeth, my wife.” Jefferson gestured to the front passenger seat. V hadn’t noticed her at first, but now that she did, it was impossible to ignore her presence. Elizabeth Peralez had that poised elegance that made V suddenly aware of her own scuffed leathers and the faded shirt riding up over her midriff. She tugged it down and ran a hand over her pants, as if that might smooth out the city grime.

“Nice to meet you, Mr. Peralez. Mrs. Peralez.”

“Right again, Liz,” Jefferson murmured. “Told you she was sharp.”

Elizabeth didn’t acknowledge the comment, only offered a cool nod. “My husband and I have a job for you.”

The muscle in the front seat shifted, then started the car. The hum of the engine sent an unpleasant jolt through V’s gut. The space suddenly felt smaller, more enclosed.

She shook it off.

“So,” V said, forcing her voice to stay even. “What do you got for me?”

Elizabeth took point. “As you’re probably aware, Mayor Lucius Rhyne recently passed.”

“We want to know how,” Jefferson added, voice sharper. “Why. Whatever else is pertinent.”

V frowned. “Far as I know, case is closed already.”

“It is,” Elizabeth said smoothly. “Official story is, he passed away in his sleep. Cardiac arrest, cyberware malfunction.”

“But we’re wondering about the cyberpsycho attack at City Hall a few days prior,” Jefferson cut in, expression darkening. “Police say it was unrelated. We’re not so sure.”

V studied them both. Elizabeth’s face was a closed book, but Jefferson? He looked... earnest. Too earnest, maybe. The kind of guy who still believed in things like justice and truth. That authenticity made her stomach turn a little. People like him? They didn’t last long in Night City.

“These suspicions of yours…” V said, narrowing her eyes. “Wouldn’t have anything to do with the upcoming election, would they?”

“Of course they would,” Jefferson admitted. “If Rhyne was murdered, we need to know.”

“You think the NCPD got it wrong?”

Elizabeth answered first. “Rhyne made cuts to the NCPD budget. Maybe got on someone’s bad side.”

Jefferson nodded. “And then there’s the braindance.”

He held out a shard. “Our chief of security went through it but found nothing. We need a real editor. Someone with a trained eye.”

V exhaled sharply. “All right. See what I can do.”

She pulled out her BD wreath and slotted the shard. The plush interior of the car dissolved, and suddenly, she was standing in City Hall, blinking under sterile fluorescents.

'Well, what do we got here?'

Johnny’s voice curled around her ear before his image even faded in. He stood off to the side, arms crossed, grinning like the ghost of a bad decision.

“Question is, what are you doing here?” V muttered.

'My brain too, isn’t it?'

She ignored him and hit play.

A bodyguard barked orders to the BD scroller. Behind him, Mayor Rhyne paced, reading off a sheet of paper. Nearby, a man in a suit and glasses—Deputy Mayor Weldon Holt.

V listened. Rhyne told Holt he’d be staying at the Red Queen’s Race that night.

She glanced at Johnny. “Red Queen’s Race. Ring any bells?”

'Sure,' Johnny drawled. 'Buncha old farts in powdered wigs shouting ‘Off with their heads!'

V rolled her eyes. “You know, you’re allowed to say you don’t have a clue.”

As Holt left, another figure strode through security. Tall. Long coat. The figure seems familiar but V can't pin point here she recognise it.

“Need to talk to the Mayor’s Chief of Security.”

“Do it after the conference,” the guard replied.

“Cop had something to say,” V murmured.

Johnny snorted. 'Yeah. Probably wanted to tell Rhyne he’d be there to lick his boots later.'

Before she could respond, another man stepped through security. The moment he did, the terminal glitched. Sparks, a flicker, then nothing.

'The hell was that?'

“Péter Horváth,” her optics flagged. Mantis blades. Ex-member of some gonks who got wiped years ago.

A second later, Horváth lunged. Screams. Gunfire. A corpse cooling on the marble floor.

V yanked herself out of the BD. The car interior rushed back. She blinked as Elizabeth and Jefferson stood by an AV outside, waiting.

“Well?” Jefferson asked. “Did you see anything?”

“Whole thing stinks worse than Coronado Bay in July.”

Jefferson’s frown deepened. “Suspicions confirmed, then.”

V exhaled. “I’ll need to talk to the cop, do you know him?”

Jefferson nodded. “River Ward. We have work with him before. Great guy. I’ll send you his details.”

That call led her straight to Chubby Buffalo’s at lunchtime. No pleasantries, just a gruff, ‘Chubby Buffalo’s, lunchtime.’ Then the call ended. "Great guy my ass." V scoff.

Now, standing in the doorway, the last thing V expected was to see him already there, waiting. And Johnny? Laughing his ass off in the corner of her eye.

Chapter Text

Chubby Buffalo’s wasn’t exactly a Night City landmark, but it had character—the kind built on sticky floors, dim neon lights flickering from neglect, and the low hum of a jukebox that hadn’t been updated since 2060. The air inside was thick with the scent of grilled meat and cheap beer, undercut by the occasional sharp tang of synthetic whiskey. A place where off-duty cops, mercs looking to unwind, and the occasional corpo slumming it for ‘authenticity’ rubbed shoulders without much fanfare. Booths with cracked leather seats lined the walls, and the bartop, scarred from years of brawls and bad decisions, gleamed dully under the neon glow. A couple of patrons sat hunched over their drinks, the kind who had nowhere better to be.

River Ward and his partner, Detective Harold Han, sat opposite each other in a booth at Chubby Buffalo’s, each nursing their coffees. They spent so many hours together on the job that comfortable silences had become the norm. Han, as always, kept his personal life sealed away like a classified case file. River respected that—cops who mixed family and work tended to end up in body bags. River had little family left himself: a sister he hadn’t seen in years, three kids who barely knew him. He spent more time at the precinct than in his own apartment.

He took a sip of his coffee, scanning the diner’s interior out of habit. His mind wasn’t on the half-empty booths or the neon lights flickering over the counter. He was thinking about the woman who had reached out to him—digging into Rhyne’s death, stirring up questions he already knew didn’t have clean answers. Someone outside the NCPD looking into this? That alone set off alarm bells. But what interested him more was why. And who was paying her to do it.

“Someone here to see you.” Han’s voice was unreadable, but there was a flicker of curiosity beneath his disinterest.

River looked up.

The woman standing at the edge of the booth wasn’t what he’d expected. She had a beauty that hit like a gut punch—striking, predatory, impossible to ignore. Platinum with inky black streaks framed her sharp cheekbones, and those emerald eyes held a challenge, a knowing glint that made his stomach tighten. She moved with a lazy confidence, the kind that said she was used to being watched. The leather jacket slung over her shoulders was worn but well-fitted, hanging open just enough to reveal a snug white tank hugging a body built for trouble. Fitted leather pants clung to long, toned legs, the sheen catching the diner’s neon light. A merc through and through—dangerous, alluring, unpredictable.

His gaze lingered for a second too long before he caught himself, forcing his scowl back into place.

Then it hit him.

Shit.

She recognized him, too. He could see it in the flicker of her expression—half-disbelief, half-exasperation.

'Oh, you gotta be shitting me.' Johnny Silverhand’s voice crackled to life in V’s skull, dripping with disdain. 'That boy scout? A goddamn cop? Tsk, tsk, V. You sure know how to pick ‘em. Next thing I know, you’ll be kissing badge ass.'

“You River Ward?” she asked, voice low, husky, threaded with something River couldn’t quite place. Interest? Amusement? Annoyance? Maybe all three.

He nodded. “In the flesh. And you are?”

“V.”

He gestured across the table. “Detective Han.”

“Okay,” she said cautiously. “Thanks for agreeing to meet.”

Han leaned back, eyeing her with thinly veiled contempt. “You really plan to work with a merc?”

River exhaled slowly through his nose. “Don’t know what I plan just yet.”

V barely spared Han a glance. Her focus remained on River, studying him like she was trying to figure out how much trouble he was worth. She placed a casual hand on the table, fingers tapping lightly. She leaned in just slightly, just enough that he caught the faintest hint of leather and something else—something distinctly hers. He caught the smallest hitch in her voice when she finally spoke.

“I just want to ask you about Mayor Rhyne’s death.”

“You back on that?” Han turned a sharp look at River. “Boss already told you to drop it. Don’t make him say it again. You know he hates to say things twice. And if you don’t give a rats ass about any of that, heed my advice as a friend. Let this case go.”

River clenched his jaw. He took another slow sip of coffee instead of answering.

Han sighed, rubbing his temple. “Look, you do whatever you want. I’ve got my kid to pick up.” There was no malice in the words, but they landed like a punch to the ribs. A reminder that River had no one waiting for him when his shift ended.

Han stood, giving V one last glance before heading out. She watched him leave but said nothing.

“Didn’t know you had a thing for running into me, detective.”

River exhaled, shaking his head. “Didn’t think I’d see you again.”

She leaned back, stretching her arms across the booth’s backrest like she owned the place. “Guess we’re both unlucky.

“Talk.” River gestured to the seat Han had vacated. His patience was running thin.

“See Detective Han’s not a fan of edgerunners,” V said, lips curving slightly.

“Don’t take it personally.” River smirked faintly. “Han’s not a fan of anybody. Except his daughter.”

Her gaze locked onto his, and for the first time, he noticed the intensity in those green eyes. Sharp. Calculating. And yet, there was something else there too—something that made his stomach tighten. He ignored it.

She leaned forward slightly, voice dropping just enough to force his full attention onto her lips. “Before the attack, you wanted to talk to Rhyne’s muscle. Give him some info. What was it?”

“Let me ask you something first,” he countered. “Who got you sniffing around this?”

V shook her head. “Sorry, can't tell ya. Client-merc privilege.”

"I ain't think that merc have that much honor in them." River scoff, feeling a bit annoyed by this. She wasn’t wrong, but he needed more. He folded his arms, gaze steady. “It’s not just your ass on the line, lady. I need to know who’s listening before I talk—otherwise, it’s mine too.”

V leaned in slightly, eyes flicking over him like she was sizing up more than just his words. Then, with a slow, knowing smile, she batted her lashes.

“And what a fine ass that would be.”

The words hit him like a live wire, heat surging through his body before he could stop it. For a second, he forgot how to breathe. How long had it been since a woman had looked at him like that—let alone thrown it right in his face?

He forced himself to steady, clearing his throat as if that would chase away the sudden tension. This was business. Just business. “You’re still dodging the question.”

'Lord Almighty, get me outta here ,' Johnny whined from his corner.

“Liz hired me. Her and Jefferson.”

River scoffed. “The presumed future mayor?” He shook his head, chuckling darkly. “Yeah. Should’ve seen that coming.”

Johnny whistled. 'Whew. And here I thought I hated politicians. Look at you, Ward, with your big-boy cynicism. Almost impressed.'

He glanced around the diner, suddenly aware of how public this conversation was. “Han was right. Acoustics in here are too good. Got my truck outside.”

She hesitated for just a fraction of a second. Just long enough for River to notice.

“Okay. Sure.”

River sighed again. “My truck’s outside. Let’s talk there.”

V followed him to the parking lot, wary but determined. The city’s lights cast harsh shadows over his Thorton Mackinaw Larimore, the red paint reflecting the neon haze of Night City. As he unlocked the door, she hesitated again before sliding into the passenger seat.

“Quite the gentleman, aren’t ya?” She smirked, resting an arm over the back of the seat as she eyed him. “Kinda feels like a date.”

River’s knuckles flexed on the wheel, cybernetic fingers catching the soft glow from the dashboard. He caught her staring. His lips twitched. “If this was a date, I wouldn’t be armed.”

V let out a low chuckle. “That supposed to make me feel special, big guy? ‘Cause I hate to break it to you, but I like ‘em dangerous.”

He huffed, shaking his head. “Then you’ll love Night City.”

She leaned in slightly, a teasing lilt in her voice. “Oh, I dunno. City’s got nothing on you.”

River didn’t bite—just rested one arm casually on the door, gaze forward, like he hadn’t felt the heat in her words. But his grip on the wheel tightened just a fraction.

V’s grin widened. This is gonna be fun.

"Some of the boys at the precinct saw Horváth in Arroyo,” he started. “Shooting up dumpsters, ranting about having a meet with Rhyne. We brought him in.”

V’s brow furrowed. “Brought who in?”

“Péter Horváth.” He turned to look at her, eyebrow raising slightly, waiting for recognition to hit. “Cyberpsycho who attacked the Mayor later. But before we could get his statement, he got ‘lost.’”

She leaned back in her seat. “Lost, huh?”

“Yeah. Someone didn’t want him counting roaches in a cell that day.” V didn’t have time to open her mouth. “And before you ask me, no. I got no idea who.”

Despite hitting a dead end, something still gnawed at V. She couldn’t resist poking at it. “So, you spotted a potential threat and just decided to warn the mayor? Just like that? ‘Cause… what, you’ve got a good heart?”

River squinted, the tight lines on his forehead easing for the first time. For a moment, she swore she saw something flicker across his face. Pity?

“Make it sound like that’s somethin’ to be ashamed of.”

V blinked, caught off guard by the weight in his voice. An odd tension curled in her chest, and before she could stop herself, she shrugged—maybe a little too flippantly. “Ashamed? Nah.” She huffed, shaking her head. “Just not somethin’ you see every day, is all.”

River hummed, neither agreeing nor disagreeing, letting the silence stretch between them. But he wasn’t one to leave loose ends dangling for long. Before she could push further, he turned the tables.

“My turn. Why’s Peralez looking at this now? And why’s he want it off the record?”

V exhaled through her nose. She had her suspicions, but something told her this puzzle wasn’t as complicated as it seemed. “Could have somethin’ to do with Holt, but honestly? Think Peralez is just scared.”

River scoffed, low and knowing. “Doesn’t want the job of a guy who got carried out feet first?”

“Heh.” V smirked. “Who would?”

River didn’t exactly smile back, but something in his expression softened—just a fraction. Barely noticeable. She let the moment linger, then tipped her head at him with a smirk.

“So, any more questions for me, Detective?” Her voice dipped into something teasing, something deliberately light. The shift seemed to throw him for half a second, just long enough for her to press on before he recovered. “’Cause I got one for you—the Red Queen’s Race. Heard of it? Know what it is?”

River let out a breath. 'God grief' “Maybe I do, maybe I don't. Got anything to do with Rhyne?”

“Guy was headed there the day he died.”

His jaw tightened. “Fine. We’ll talk to my CI first,or we could talk to Horvath’s boss. No one followed up with her. Dealer’s choice.

She raised an eyebrow. “We?”

“Look, this way, you get your job done, I get evidence to reopen the case. Win-win.”

She watched him, considering. Finally, she exhaled through her nose. “Fine. Let’s check out his boss first.”

River nodded, gripping the wheel. “Let’s roll.”

They slipped into the thick, restless veins of Night City, the Mackinaw moving steadily through the midday congestion. Outside, the neon-lit chaos blurred past, casting sharp, shifting colors through the windshield. The city pulsed, alive in a way that never truly stopped, yet in the quiet hum of the truck’s cabin, it felt strangely distant.

V let herself sink into the passenger seat, her body finally relaxing against the worn leather. The weight of the job, the tension of the conversation—it all took a backseat, just for a moment. She let her gaze drift out the window as they passed the looming holo-ads and endless rows of packed storefronts marking the edge of Japantown. It was only mid-afternoon, but the thick, overcast sky smothered the light, making it feel like dusk had crept in early.

She felt it then—his gaze. Not just a passing glance, but something more deliberate, lingering just long enough to notice. Usually, that kind of attention set her on edge. Made her shoulders go stiff, fingers curl, ready to tell some asshole to take a picture and fuck off. But this?

She let him be.

Maybe it was the quiet. Maybe it was the way the city’s glow caught in his cybernetic fingers, the way he gripped the wheel with just enough tension to betray his thoughts.

Or maybe, she was just too damn tired to fight it.

***

He pulled the truck up in an alley filled with piles of garbage bags and old mattresses.

“So, who are we supposed to talk to?” V asked. “Cyberpsycho’s boss, you said?”

His head turned to face her fully as he put the truck in park. “Christine Markov. 42. File has her as Horváth’s sole employer.” He paused. “Sole contact too, actually. Come on, V.”

V followed him out of the truck. They were at the Cherry Blossom Market in Japantown. Despite its flowery name, the market was not an up-scale area, and its vendors sold a wide variety of scavenged and repurposed junk. River walked ahead of her with loping strides, and she broke into a trot to match his pace. He pulled up suddenly and stood with his hands on his hips, surveying the market.

“No idea who we’re looking for,” he said. “Gonna have to ask around. I’ll start from the left, you take the right.”

She felt a flash of irritation. This was his lead, but he had no idea where she was?

She approached a food vendor who directed her to a tech stand on the other side of the market. She waved River over as she approached the tech vendor. She was a middle-aged woman wearing a dated-looking syn-leather vest and a bandana tugged over her greying hair. The repair bench in front of her contained a collection of old radios and radio parts – not exactly state-of-the-art tech.

“You Christine Markov?” V asked. “We have some questions.”

The woman was intent on the radio in front of her and didn’t look up. “You badges?”

“Looking for data on Péter Horváth. Worked here, apparently.”

“Yeah, he did. Then he stopped working, started making fucking speeches all the time.” She waved her screwdriver emphatically.

“Horváth make good scratch here?” V asked. “Coulda bought this whole market with the chrome he was packing.”

Markov laughed bitterly. “Oh yeah, made scads on scads here. Motherfucking millionaire, like we all are.”

“So where’d he get the eddies?” River asked. “Know anything?”

“Look, if I knew, I wouldn’t be here selling scop to tower trash. I’d get myself an AV, fly my fucking slim ass outta here.” She had a broad east coast accent, drawing her vowels out. “Péter showed up one day with all that. Extra worked up too. Whacked enough that I asked him where he got it. He said somebody’d finally seen what he was worth. And then he launched right into one of his tirades.”

“When did the weird behaviour actually start?” V asked.

“When you’re talking about Péter, weird doesn’t mean what it means to everybody else. Horváth never was completely normal. But the post-jail Horváth vs the pre-jail Horváth?” She drew her left hand in the air to illustrate the divide. “Gonks both, but completely different gonks.”

“These speeches… What did he have to say?” V asked curiously.

“’Rhyne – corps got him by the balls and cock but he still managed to fuck me!’” She sighed. “His motto.”

“Why’d he have it in for the Mayor?”

“Ha!” Markov scoffed. “Looking for reason in that whack job? Probably thought Rhyne was talking to him through the TV, promising him all sorts of shit, then ceasing to give a fuck.” She put down the screwdriver and turned to V. “Look, I told you what I think. In Horváth’s world, everyone was out to get him. Lucius Rhyne was out to fuck him, then get him.”

“So as Horváth saw it, who else had it in for him?”

“’Sides Rhyne? Madame President, mostly.” Markov chuckled. “Then Arasaka, the geezer, then when he died it was his son’s turn.” She turned back to her radio, her tone sarcastic. “Would that be all, detectives? You’re spooking my clientele.”

V and River moved away from the stand, making their way through the crowded market while speaking as quietly as they could. River slowed his pace to allow V to keep up with his stride.

“So Horváth had a beef with Rhyne.” River started, “And he had sponsors.”

“We might have guessed as much.” V wasn’t convinced of the value of this little side trip except to confirm Péter’s psychosis. It certainly hadn’t cleared up where he might have got the eddies to purchase half the chrome in Night City.

“Might seem like we didn’t get a lot out of that, but sometimes intel makes sense once you’ve got some context,” River responded, as if he sensed V’s frustration.

V crossed her arms, raising an eyebrow. “Oh yeah? You got some grand cop wisdom to hit me with?”

River smirked. “Say some guy complains about a headache. No big deal, right? Then one day—bam—walks straight into traffic. Neighbor remembers some tech messing with his air con a few days back. Same guy always whining about his head. Coincidence? Or maybe—airborne poison. Neat little hit.”

V arched a brow. “You actually work a case like that?”

“Nope. Pulled it outta my ass.”

She huffed a laugh. “NC at its finest. And you’re tellin’ me this ‘cause…?”

River shrugged, all casual. “Point is, just ‘cause something looks one way at first doesn’t mean that’s the whole picture.”

V smirked, stepping a little closer. "And here I thought you were just another pretty face with a badge."

River chuckled, eyes flicking to hers. "You think I'm pretty?"

"Think your enemies do. Keeps 'em coming back for more."

River shook his head, but the corner of his mouth twitched in amusement. "And you? You planning to keep coming back, V?"

She grinned. "Guess we'll see."

“Okay. Gotta meet my CI. You riding with me?”

V slid her hands into her jacket pockets, giving him a once-over. “Yeah. I’ll ride with ya.”

Johnny’s voice cut in like a static burst in her skull. 'More like you wanna ride him.'

V’s smirk barely faltered. 'Shut the fuck up, Johnny.'

Johnny just laughed, a low, mocking chuckle echoing in the back of her mind. 'Hey, not judgin’. Just sayin’—guy’s got that whole brooding thing goin’ on. Probably smells like cheap whiskey and bad decisions.'

V rolled her eyes and climbed into the truck, the worn leather seat creaking beneath her. River slid in next to her, hands gripping the wheel with practiced ease. The rain had picked up, droplets drumming against the windshield in a steady rhythm. For a moment, neither of them spoke. V was starting to enjoy how unflappable River was. It reminded her of Jackie’s steady presence—like the world could be burning down around them, and he’d still be the same. Annoyingly steady. And maybe a little charming. Rather than staring out the window, her gaze drifted to River’s hands on the steering wheel, the way his fingers flexed against the leather. Strong, steady hands. Good hands. The kind of hands that—

She pressed her lips together and glanced away, distracting herself with the scarce details Markov had given them. Not the time. Definitely not the time.

River drove south, pulling up in front of a—

V blinked. A fucking sex shop.

“My guy works here,” River said, like he’d just driven them to a café. “You go talk to him. I’ll wait outside.”

V’s eyes flicked toward the neon “XXX” sign buzzing above the entrance, then back at him. “Really.”

“Really.”

“And you didn’t think to mention we were visiting a dildo emporium beforehand?”

River grinned, his voice even. “Didn’t wanna ruin the surprise.”

Johnny materialized beside her with a shit-eating smirk. 'Oh, this just keeps getting better. Go on, V, get in there—might find a new hobby.'

V gave him the finger before turning back to River. “So who’s this guy?”

“Owner. Knows a lot ‘cause he’s nosy as hell. Also a coward. Great combo.”

“Right. And why am I the one going in?”

River sighed, rubbing his jaw like he was considering how much to tell her. “Last time we met… didn’t go so well.” He turned to her, leveling her with his organic eye. “You got a better chance of getting him to talk. At least voluntarily.”

V let out a slow breath. “So, you need me to do your dirty work.”

He smirked. “Nah. Just my sweet-talking.”

'Pfft. He’s got it bad.' Johnny whistled. 'If you had half a brain, you’d be milking this for all it’s worth."

V crossed her arms, tilting her head. “And if I come out with a membership card?”

River coughed, fighting to keep his expression neutral. “Then I guess I’m payin’ for it.”

Her smirk widened. “Deal.”

She pushed open the door and sauntered toward the entrance, feeling River’s eyes linger on her back longer than they should. Johnny scoffed. 'This is painful to watch. Guy’s a fucking cop, V. An old one. You got a type, sure, but this?'

She didn’t answer, just let her smirk grow. 'Guess we’ll see, huh?'

Johnny groaned.

She strode inside. The store was surprisingly crowded for 7 PM on a Tuesday. Shelves lined with a rainbow of dildos and butt plugs, VR porn booths glowing in the back. V was barely two steps in when a sleazy voice called out.

“You looking for general inspiration or something specific? ‘Cause I can help with both.”

Behind the counter, a middle-aged guy with cheap gold jewelry and a tragic combover gave her a grin that made her want to stand at least five feet away. Instead, she leaned lazily against the counter, giving him a slow once-over. “Dunno,” she drawled, tapping a finger against her chin. “You look like a guy who knows things. Maybe you can recommend somethin’... special.” His grin widened. “Oh, I got plenty of special, sweetheart.”

V smirked. “Yeah? Igor says hi.”

His smirk vanished instantly. “Fuck.”

Before she could even blink, he was bolting for the back door.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” V muttered, vaulting over the counter. She shoved through the door, chasing him into the alley behind the store. Just as he skidded to a stop, she spotted why.

River was already there, waiting at the other end of the alley, arms crossed.

Neil let out a strangled noise. “Fuck!”

“Hey, Neil.” River’s voice was calm. Too calm.

Neil turned to bolt the other way—right into V. He barely had time to curse before River grabbed him by the collar and slammed him against the wall like it was nothing.

V swore under her breath. Shit.

River was strong. The way his muscles flexed under that coat, the easy way he handled Neil like he weighed nothing—yeah, okay, maybe this was not the time to be noticing that, but fuck it. She liked a guy who could throw his weight around.

Johnny groaned. 'Oh, you’ve gotta be shitting me. You like this? Guy’s got “hardass cop” written all over him and you’re gettin’ wet over a little manhandling?'

V ignored him, watching as River pressed an arm across Neil’s chest, keeping him pinned with zero effort.

Neil squirmed. “Piss off!”

River barely blinked, pulling his revolver with his free hand. He pressed the barrel against Neil’s temple, voice steady. “Relax. Just got one question.”

A passerby hesitated at the alley’s mouth, glancing between them. River’s voice remained level. “Ain’t your business, choom. Ghost.”

The civvie took off.

Neil squirmed harder. “Leave me alone, got it? You can’t make me—”

V stepped forward, cocking her head as she dragged her gaze over him like she was considering something very interesting. Then, she trailed a slow finger down the front of his cheap, polyester shirt.

Neil went stock-still.

"Aw, c'mon, Neil," she purred, voice syrupy sweet. "Don't be like that. You seem like a smart guy… a resourceful guy." She let her nails drag lightly against his chest. “I mean, you do wanna be helpful, don’t you?”

Neil swallowed hard, eyes darting between her and River. “I—uh—”

River shifted his stance. His grip on his revolver tightened just a fraction, but he didn’t say a word.

“Red Queen’s Race,” V murmured, dragging the words out like a secret shared between lovers. She leaned in just enough for her breath to tickle Neil’s ear. “Give us the address, we’re gone.”

Neil’s face twisted. “Already told ya! Last time I helped, they broke all my fuckin’ fingers!”

V pouted, running a hand up his arm. “That so? Well, lucky for you…” She leaned in, lips barely an inch from his ear. “I’m here now. Means I can make sure nothing happens to you.”

Not that she gave a shit about protecting pervy snitches, but fear made people talk, and right now, Neil was terrified of River. Playing the good cop just made sense.

Neil groaned. “Ugh… fine. Outside city limits. Near the river. Bonita Street.”

River’s jaw tightened. “You been there?”

Neil hesitated. “Nope. Not my scene.”

V tutted, trailing her hand back down Neil’s chest. “Now, that’s a shame. Thought a guy like you would be into… all sorts of things.”

Neil made a choked sound.

River suddenly holstered his gun a little too forcefully. “Alright, that’s enough.”

V smirked, pulling back with a lazy shrug. “What? Just makin’ conversation.”

Johnny groaned. 'Fucking hell, V, are you trying to give the guy a heart attack? What, you think lover boy over here ain’t already pissed?'

Neil practically sagged with relief. “Got no idea why you wanna poke around there,” he muttered. “Club’s empty. Shut it down.”

“They shut it down?” River asked. “Before or after Mayor Rhyne died?”

“Uhh… soon after, I guess.”

River exhaled sharply, slipping his revolver back into its holster. “Appreciate it, Neil.”

“Yeah? Well, my fuckin’ luck,” Neil whined, scurrying back toward his store. V barely resisted the urge to throw a rock at his head on his way out.

River turned to her, hands on his hips, and she suddenly realized how damn close they were standing. He was big, broad, and when he straightened, she had to tilt her head up to meet his gaze.Jeez, how tall is this guy? Did he eat some growth spur vitamins or what?

His expression was unreadable for a beat too long. Then, he exhaled, shaking his head. “Y’know, you didn’t have to flirt with the guy.”

V grinned. “Why? Jealous?”

His jaw ticked. “Nah. Just—” He huffed, rubbing his neck. “That guy’s got enough ego issues without you strokin’ it.”

Her grin widened. “You sure that’s all it is?”

Johnny made a gagging noise. 'Oh, for fuck’s sake. This is painful. Just fuck him already so I don’t have to listen to this shit.'

River sighed, like he was regretting everything. “You comin’?”

V blinked. “Uh—”

“I mean—to Bonita Street.” His lips twitched.

Oh, he so walked into that one. But V just smirked and followed.

Behind her, Johnny cackled. 'Oh, this is gonna be so much fun.'

V groaned. River just raised a brow. “Something I should know?”

“Nah,” she said, sinking into the seat. “Just my personal poltergeist being an asshole.”

River hummed, amused. “Sounds exhausting.”

“You have no idea.”

Chapter Text

As he wound the truck carefully through the streets of Heywood, River kept his attention mostly on the road—but his organic eye stole quick glances at the merc in his passenger seat. V sat comfortably, almost too comfortably, one leg tucked up on the seat, leaning back as though the ride were nothing but a lazy cruise through the city. She was staring out the window, absent-minded, her expression betraying little. The glow of neon signs passing by cast ever-changing colors over her face—hints of violet, deep reds, electric blues. It made her look like something out of a dream. A dangerous one. His gaze slid over her platinum white hair, streaked with black highlights, cascading in effortless waves over her shoulders. Full lips, painted with a pale-red smear of lipstick, parted slightly as she exhaled a slow breath. He had the sudden, errant thought that it would probably leave faint prints if she ever—

He realized with a start that her eyes had shifted from the window to him, catching him staring. Brown met green, sharp and unreadable, and he flicked his gaze back to the road, exhaling through his nose.

Shit.

“So… you from Night City?” he asked, adopting his usual detective tone to cover his embarrassment.

She hesitated for just a beat before answering, chewing on her bottom lip as if the question were something difficult to process. “Yeah. Born and raised.”

“Yeah?” He arched a brow, curiosity piqued. “Which part?”

“Corpo Plaza.”

That explained a lot. The expensive implants, the well-maintained polish despite living the merc life. “Parents in the biz?” he asked casually.

She snorted softly, a bitter edge to it. “You could say that.”

Something about the way she said it made him think she wasn’t exactly on good terms with her silver-spoon upbringing. She didn’t elaborate, and he knew better than to push. He’d spent enough time around people with sealed pasts to know when he was up against an ironclad firewall.

“And you?” she asked, tipping her head toward him.

“More or less,” he said, keeping it short. “Grew up outside the city on a farm. Been here since I was a teenager. Heywood’s home now.”

She nodded, taking that in. He could tell she was filing it away, evaluating him. He had no fucking clue what she decided.

The rest of the ride passed in silence.

***

Bonita Street loomed ahead, tucked away in the more upscale folds of Westbrook’s Charter Hill district. Night had settled fully now, bringing with it the neon-drenched glow of the city, the air crisp with a chill that made V tug her jacket tighter around her body.

Joining River on the sidewalk, V leaned against the ramp, her gaze fixed on the warehouse ahead. She cast him a sidelong glance, arching a brow. “This is Animal turf,” she murmured, scanning the area. “So, got any golden cop rules for dealing with ‘em?”

She was pushing, testing the waters. Maybe it was the rush of the job, or maybe it was him—but after a whole day working together, she wasn’t as put off by the idea as she should’ve been. Never hated badges as much as Johnny did, but she’d never been one to cozy up to them either. And yet, here she was, prodding, teasing, wanting to see how far she could push before that steady composure of his cracked.
River let out a low breath, something between a chuckle and a sigh. “Keep your stance relaxed, your tone even… and if they start sniffing too close, don’t be afraid to bare your teeth.”

V’s lips parted before she scoffed, shaking her head. “That your way of saying you bite?”

He finally looked at her, slow and measured, like he was sizing up something dangerous—but there was a glint in his eye, something sharp and unreadable. “Only when provoked.”

The air between them tightened for half a beat, a tension neither of them acknowledged but both of them felt. V let out a short laugh, rolling her eyes as she turned back to the warehouse. “Hah-fucking-hah.”

“Lock up any of theirs recently?”

“Not lately.” He wasn’t biting. “But they’re not exactly fans of badges either. I can’t go in without a warrant. But you…”

“Right. Me.” Her lips curled into a smirk. “This the part where you convince me to sneak into a gang hideout while you kick back and enjoy the view? I thought I was just your sweet talker?”

River exhaled through his nose, his expression unreadable. “I don’t do convincing. You wanna do this or not?”

V chuckled, low and knowing. “Yeah, yeah. Keep your pants on, detective.”

She started moving, quiet as a ghost, scanning the warehouse as she approached. He watched her, the way she moved, calculated and efficient. Even with top-tier chrome, most mercs got sloppy. Not her. She was all precision, all smooth edges. It was almost hypnotizing. She crept toward the side of the warehouse, her fingers ghosting over the hilt of her mantis blades, but she didn’t deploy them just yet. A single Animal thug stood by the loading dock, smoking, his attention half on the alley, half on whatever song was blasting through his chipped-out cyberaudio.

V crouched low, shifting her weight onto the balls of her feet. A second later, she moved.

A single step. Fast. Silent. Then another.

By the time he registered the shift in the air, it was too late. V lunged, clamping a hand over his mouth as she buried a blade into the soft space between his ribs. His body jerked in her grasp, muscles seizing—then he sagged. She eased him down against the metal siding, wiping her blade clean on his jacket. River’s jaw flexed as he watched through his optics. He knew she was good, but this? She moved like a phantom.

“Hope you’re not getting too comfortable back there,” she murmured over the holo.

“Comfortable’s not the word I’d use.” His voice was steady, but there was a quiet edge to it.

V smirked. “I’d ask if you liked what you saw, but you don’t seem like the type to admit it.”

A pause. Then—“Just don’t get yourself killed before I can say ‘I told you so.’”

She huffed a laugh, slipping into the warehouse through a half-open service door. “Guess I’ll have to disappoint you.”

Another guard stepped into view—this one bulkier, chrome arms glinting under the dim light.

She didn’t hesitate.

A quick sprint—then she was airborne, legs wrapping around his thick neck in a tight, calculated chokehold. He staggered, clawing at her, but she rode the momentum, twisting mid-air until snap—he crumpled, dead before he hit the ground.

River’s breath came slow and controlled, but something in his chest tightened. He wasn’t sure what unsettled him more—how effortless she made it look or the fact that he was impressed.

And maybe a little worried.

She was fast, yeah. Smart, too. But even the best got sloppy eventually.

And sloppy got you killed.

And then—

“Found a side door,” she murmured over the holo.

River had already pushed off from the pylon and was heading toward her. “I’m coming in with you.”

There was a pause. “Didn’t think badges could enter without a warrant.”

“Good thing I’m already off duty.”

V studied him for a moment, then simply smirked. Either she welcomed the backup, or she decided it wasn’t worth arguing. Maybe both. She nodded once, then disappeared deeper into the warehouse.

River exhaled through his nose, shaking his head before stepping inside after her.

One of these days, she was gonna get herself killed.

And he hated how much that thought bothered him.

V moved through the darkened garage, her mantis blades ready, their sleek edges gleaming in the dim neon glow from the flickering signs outside. This was Animal turf—chaotic, unrefined, brutal. The place stank of oil, sweat, and the faint metallic tang of blood, but she pressed on, gliding between stacked shipping containers and gutted-out cars.

"Looks like a normal body shop to me," she murmured as she ducked under a half-open garage door. The interior was cluttered—rusting vehicles, crates, scattered tools—but something about the way the place was arranged felt... off.

"Club’s here. I’m tellin’ ya."

"Telling me you got a hunch?" V asked, skeptical.

"Somethin’ like that."

She moved like a whisper, gliding up the metal staircase, boots barely brushing the surface. The lone Animal guard stood on the walkway ahead, oblivious—too relaxed, too unaware. V slid behind him in a single, fluid motion, one hand clamping over his mouth as her mantis blade punched clean through his throat. His body jerked once before going slack, his final breath swallowed by the steady hum of the warehouse machinery. She eased him to the ground, stepping over him without a second glance.

Another Animal occupied an office up ahead—bigger, bulkier. Even with her chrome, choking him out wasn't an option. She circled behind him, then struck—her mantis blade severing his spinal cord in a clean, practiced movement. He dropped like a bag of cement. No alarms. No approaching footsteps. River was right—they'd gotten complacent.

Then she spotted it: a shipping container with a bright overhead light. Weird. Why illuminate a container? She yanked open the double doors and found a stairwell leading to an elevator, bathed in eerie red light.

"Stairs inside. Clever."

"Nice work," River said, a note of approval in his voice. She smirked, running her fingers along the metal frame of the container before stepping inside. "You almost sound impressed, detective."

"I don’t waste my breath."

V chuckled, shaking her head. "Shame. I was starting to enjoy the compliments."

They descended, boots barely making a sound against the metal steps. But as soon as they reached the bottom, the air changed. Heavy bass from deep within the club reverberated through the floor, and a guttural voice shouted from a nearby corridor.

“Intruders!”

A trio of Animals rushed them. V barely had time to react before the first was on her, swinging a reinforced fist aimed at her head. She ducked, slicing upward with her mantis blade, carving a deep gash across his chest. He howled but kept coming, blood soaking into his torn tank top.

Another came from the left, brandishing a sledgehammer. She dodged, barely avoiding the impact that cracked the floor where she had just stood. Using the momentum, she spun low, slicing clean through his Achilles tendon. He collapsed, screaming, just as River moved in.

He grabbed the third Animal’s wrist mid-swing, twisted it behind his back, and drove a knee into his spine. The gang member struggled, but River was stronger. With a sharp twist, there was a sickening pop, and the man crumpled to the floor, unconscious.

V finished off her attacker with a final slash across the throat. Blood sprayed against the wall as the gang member dropped, twitching.

River wiped a hand across his jaw. “Subtle.”

“Not my strong suit,” V admitted, retracting her blades. “Come on.”

They moved cautiously down the dimly lit hallway, bathed in neon red and purple. A security room lay to the right—empty. The double doors at the end of the corridor? Not locked.

"Someone really wanted to cover up whatever went down here," she muttered, moving cautiously. "What are we looking for?"

"Office. Every club’s got one."

She pushed through the doors. The main club floor was cavernous—plush lounges, a bar, BD rooms lining the upper level. Before she could react, an Animal lunge at her. River quickly slammed him down before putting a bullet between his eyes.

'Damn, V. Your pet badge sure is quick.'

The second went down just as easily, a bullet from her silenced Nowaki punching through his skull. The club was still. Almost too still.

Peering into each of the private booths felt like wading through the worst humanity had to offer—sticky shot glasses, half-smoked synth joints, and used condom wrappers littered the floors. A dead end. Until she pulled back the last glittery curtain. An Animal sprawled across the electric blue couch, lost in some twisted BD porn, his dick out, mouth hanging open. V recoiled. If there was ever a list of things she wished she could erase from memory, this shot straight to the top. She must’ve made a face because when she turned back, River was already frowning at her.

“Found somethin’ in there?”

He took a step toward the booth, but V raised a firm hand to stop him.

“Nothin’ you wanna see.” She scoffed, shaking off the image as she tapped his shoulder and brushed past. “Trust me.”

River arched a brow but didn’t push it. Instead, he fell in step beside her, their movements instinctive, quiet.They slipped past the holographic dancers, heading for the back door tucked behind the counter. Inside, the world changed. The air turned stale, tinted in a sickly green hue from the flickering overhead lights. Empty shelves lined the walls, a few handguns stashed carelessly in an open compartment. A cluttered counter and a half-broken vending machine by the door suggested this was nothing more than an employee break room.

Not the office.

They moved deeper, V easing open another door to reveal a hallway lined with identical doors. Almost like a damn motel floor. One door stood slightly ajar. Inside, a BD wreath sat abandoned on a lounge. She hesitated, then reached for it.The second it touched her skin, pain exploded through her skull.

Searing. Blinding. Static screeched in her ears, a violent burst of red glitching across her vision.

She barely heard her name before a rough hand tore the wreath from her head.

Air flooded her lungs. She gasped, body reeling, balance lost. The world pitched sideways, her vision swimming—River’s face loomed above her, blurred, distorted.

"Shit, V! You okay?"

She groaned, gripping his arm for balance. He was solid, unmoving—a wall of muscle and warmth that grounded her against the nausea clawing at her insides. Reality snapped back into focus.

"Thanks for saving my life," she muttered, swallowing against the lingering ache.

River exhaled, somewhere between exasperated and amused. "You normally put on random BD wreaths?"

"What can I say? Curiosity got to me."

She pushed past the embarrassment, rubbing her temples. The pounding in her skull was fading, but she wasn’t at a hundred percent yet.

"Not a heart attack that killed Rhyne."

River’s expression hardened. "Yeah?"

"Someone spiked his BD. That’s what did it."

River swore under his breath. "Fuck… Think you could be right. C’mon."

He helped her to her feet, his grip firm, steady. Even through the haze, she was hyper-aware of him—of how much bigger he was, how close his body was to hers. The heat rolling off him was impossible to ignore. V swallowed. That damn BD must’ve scrambled her brain.

Focus.

They moved cautiously down the hall, stopping outside a set of double doors. Inside, a massive Animal sat engrossed in a holo call. Crouched this close to River, V could hear his slow, measured breathing, feel the solid weight of his frame beside her. His thigh brushed against hers—he was all warmth and quiet power, coiled tension just waiting to be unleashed. Her gaze drifted without thinking—his throat, his collarbone, the open lapels of his coat.

River moved first. For a man his size, he was disturbingly fast. He slipped inside like a ghost, arms snapping around the Animal’s throat in a headlock. The guy thrashed, struggling against the sheer force pinning him. Muscles flexed—River didn’t waver. He tightened his grip, unrelenting, his body pressing flush against his target. The Animal flailed, choked—then went limp. River eased him down carefully, barely making a sound. Then he glanced back at V, his breathing even, gaze unreadable.

"You good?"

V let out a slow breath, her pulse still thrumming from the aftermath. She smirked. "You’re not bad at this whole breaking-and-entering thing, detective."

River just shook his head, that familiar half-smirk tugging at his lips. "Don’t get used to it."

"Looks like an office," V murmured.

"Comps are what we want."

V settled in front of the terminal, fingers moving fast over the interface. Security protocols. A cryptic message from Weldon Holt about a “mutual friend.” But the last file made her stomach knot—a direct report of Rhyne’s death sent straight to Holt. The response? "I'll handle it."

Her pulse ticked up. She dug deeper, opening the only attached video file.

A grainy feed flickered to life. A BD lounge. The quality was shit, but the scene was unmistakable—a lifeless body slumped over in a private booth. A man in a long coat paced outside.

"Yeah. Stiff as a board. No trauma card," the man muttered into his holo.

Then he turned. The dim light caught the metal gleam of an NCPD badge clipped to his chest.

Harold fucking Han.

V sucked in a sharp breath.

' Can’t say you’re really surprised, can ya, V?'

Ignoring Johnny’s comment, V released the breath she’d unconsciously been holding and let her eyes carefully trail to River. River leaned in behind her, his presence a solid wall of heat at her back. He was close—close enough that she could feel the slow, measured rise and fall of his breath. His eyes locked on the screen, jaw tightening as the realization hit.

"Weird… Guy looks familiar, doesn’t he?"

She regretted it the second the words left her lips.

River’s voice dropped, low and edged. "V… I’m not in the mood for jokes."

The room felt smaller. Tighter. A coil winding between them. V hesitated, then reached out, fingers brushing his forearm in a small, grounding squeeze. His muscles were tense beneath her touch—like a spring loaded, ready to snap. But slowly, his posture eased, just a fraction. His expression darkened, but the fire in his eyes burned controlled now. He exhaled through his nose, nodding slowly.

"Think we’ve seen everything we needed to," he said.

V’s gaze lingered on the screen for a beat longer, her mind already racing ahead, connecting dots she didn’t like.

"Yeah," she murmured, pushing back from the terminal.

She met River’s gaze—intense, unwavering.

"Let’s delta."

***

V shifted in her seat, the leather creaking beneath her as she stretched out her legs. The sound was louder than it should’ve been, making her hyper-aware of the space between her and River—what little of it there was. She turned, studying him under the dim dashboard glow. His grip on the wheel was ironclad, muscles taut beneath the sleeves of his jacket. But it wasn’t anger brimming beneath the surface.

No, it was something heavier.

River had been dead set on this case, chasing leads like a bloodhound, and now? Now that they had their answer, now that the truth had teeth—he looked like a man staring at something he couldn’t stomach.

The set of his jaw. The tension at the bridge of his nose. The way his organic eye flickered, dark and stormy, as if trying to shut out thoughts he didn’t want to have.
“So…” V’s voice was softer than she intended, cutting through the silence. “What’s next? You gonna take all this straight to the top? Bring the bastard down?”

His knuckles turned white before his grip slackened, his ‘ganic hand sliding from the wheel to rest on his thigh. “First, I need to talk to Han. Before anything else.” His voice was low, rough.

She hummed, nodding. “Calling him now?”

“Nah.” River exhaled, rubbing a hand over his jaw, gaze flicking to the dark cityscape outside. “Too late. His kid’s home.”

Something about the way he said it—so matter-of-fact, so restrained—had her tilting her head. “Didn’t take you for the sentimental type.”

River let out a breath of a scoff, shaking his head. “Didn’t take you for the reckless type either, but here we are.”

V smirked. “Mm. Don’t lie, you like it.”

His head turned, gaze locking onto hers. Something unreadable flickered in his good eye, something that made the air between them feel charged.

“Not even gonna dignify that with an answer.”

But he didn’t deny it.

V’s grin widened. She stretched, deliberately slow. The movement sent a hint of her scent through the cabin—something sweet and rich, like strawberries drenched in cream. Not overpowering, but enough to linger, enough to crawl under his skin. Something warm and teasing, soft, but dangerous. “Y’know, for all your hard-ass cop bullshit, you’re not bad company.”

River swallowed, barely shifting in his seat.  Some conflict twisting beneath the surface. “That supposed to be a compliment?”

“Guess it depends,” she mused. “You gonna let me ride shotgun again, or was this a one-time offer?”

He side-eyed her, weighing his words, but his grip on the wheel was just a fraction looser. “That depends—can you sit still for more than five minutes without nearly getting yourself killed?”

V gasped, all mock offense. “I’ll have you know, I was very graceful back there.”

River huffed. “Yeah, real graceful the way you nearly fried your brain in that BD wreath.”

“Oh, c’mon, that’s not fair,” she shot back, folding her arms. “Curiosity’s a dangerous thing, Ward. Didn’t know you were the type to play it safe.”

His lips pressed together. His hands twitched on the wheel. “I pick my battles.”

That was what it came down to, wasn’t it? Picking battles. And he sure as hell had picked his fair share. But this? Her? He didn’t even know what kind of battle this was.

Johnny hummed. 'And yet, here he is, sittin’ next to you. Poor bastard never had a chance.'

V ignored the way that comment hit a little too close to home.

The silence between them wasn’t uncomfortable, but it was heavy.

She rolled her shoulder, testing the ache. “Still offering that ride home, or am I hoofing it?”

River barely hesitated. “Where to?”

“The Glen,” she answered, catching the slight flicker of surprise in his gaze.

“Really?” He raised a brow. “Didn’t peg you as the Heywood type.”

V shrugged. “What can I say? Good neighborhood, solid walls, minimal gunfire.”

The drive wasn’t long—maybe it was the quiet, or maybe it was the way the space between them felt... closer than before.

As River pulled up to her place, she hesitated, fingers wrapped around the door handle but not pulling. “Hey, Ward.”

He glanced at her.

She held his gaze, something playful, something real lingering between them. “Try not to lose too much sleep thinking about me.”

River huffed a laugh, shaking his head. “Yeah, I’ll try to manage.”

V smirked. “Liar.”

She was halfway out the door when he called her name.

“V.”

She turned, one hand resting against the open door.

His jaw tensed, like he was debating saying it at all. Then—“Tomorrow. When I talk to Han… I need you there. As a witness.”

V’s smirk faded into something more serious. “Yeah. ‘Course.”

River nodded, expression unreadable. “Be ready. I’ll call.”

“Sounds good.”

She lingered for half a second longer than necessary. For some reason, not looking back as his truck pulled away was harder than it should’ve been.

And damn it if she didn’t already miss the passenger seat.

Maybe she was just too tired to think straight.

The elevator ride felt longer than usual, each floor crawling by in slow motion. V leaned against the wall, shutting her eyes for a second—not that it helped. The fatigue had her in a chokehold, seeping into her bones one limb at a time. Even the dull, familiar throb in her shoulder had turned into a full-blown protest, the pain spreading up her neck like a slow-burning fuse.

Johnny materialized beside her, arms crossed. 'Tough night, princess? Thought you were tougher than this.'

V cracked an eye open. “You try getting body-slammed by a guy built like a chrome-plated truck and tell me how you feel after.”

He scoffed. 'I’ve had worse.'

“Yeah?” She huffed, rolling her shoulder. “Well, you’re also dead, so excuse me if I don’t envy your pain tolerance.”

Johnny smirked, tapping his temple. 'Fair point. Still, gotta say—I’m enjoying the show. Seeing you all soft for a badge? Didn’t think I’d live to see the day.'

V groaned, rubbing her temples as the elevator doors slid open. “Not this shit again.”

'Hey, I’m just saying—looks like someone’s got you thinking about more than just corpo hits and eddies for once.

She didn’t dignify that with a response.

Her apartment was dark, the neon glow from the city outside painting jagged shadows across the walls. She barely had the energy to lock the door before dragging herself to the bed. The second her body hit the mattress, she swore she could feel every bruise, every pulled muscle, every aching nerve from a night spent under the stars.

The sheets smelled like her—gunpowder, sweat, and city grime. But something was missing.

The realization hit her in a way she didn’t expect.

The scent of leather.

Not her own—his.

Johnny let out a low chuckle. 'Well, well. Someone’s got it bad.'

V scowled, rolling onto her side. “Shut the fuck up, Johnny.”

He grinned. 'Sure, sure. Sleep tight, sweetheart. Sweet dreams… or, you know, wet ones.'

She threw a pillow at the wall, but he was already gone.

And, for some reason, the room felt emptier than it should have

***

The drive back was a blur. The city lights smeared against the windshield, neon bleeding into the dark, but River barely saw them. His mind was tangled—too many loose ends, too many unanswered questions.

Han. His own partner.

A man he had trusted with his life. The idea that he could be involved in Rhyne’s death—it didn’t sit right. It couldn’t be right. But the evidence was there, staring him in the face like the barrel of a loaded gun.

Maybe there’s an explanation. Maybe there’s something I’m missing.

The thoughts looped, tangling into knots he couldn’t untie. Han had always been good at navigating Night City’s murky moral lines. But was that just a way to justify looking the other way? How deep did this go?

He exhaled sharply, flexing his fingers off the wheel before gripping it again. If he let himself sink too deep into this, he’d drown. One thing at a time. Talk to Han first. Get answers. Then—

Then what? Pretend like he could just walk away from this? Pretend like it wouldn’t change everything?

A muscle in his jaw twitched as his thoughts shifted, unwillingly, to V. She got under his skin too damn easily. The way she looked at him—like she saw him, past the badge, past the cop bullshit. Like she was waiting for him to figure out just how far he was willing to go.

And the worst part? He didn’t hate it. He should.

She’d been close tonight—too close. The scent of gunpowder, sweat, and something distinctly her still clung to his jacket. It was subtle, but he could still catch it in the air, even now, winding its way into his lungs. 

Tempting. Too damn tempting.

She moved like she was born to prowl the dark, every step silent, every move calculated. But then she’d get that look in her eye, like trouble was the only thing that made her feel alive. And he found himself wanting—fuck—wanting something he had no business wanting.

A distraction. That’s what she was. And right now, distractions were dangerous.

She’s a pain in the ass. Reckless. Too damn quick to jump into the fire

Still, when she had looked at him before stepping out of his truck, told him to get some sleep… something about it made him hesitate. It wasn’t just a throwaway comment. It was something else.

River exhaled, running a hand down his face.

He couldn’t afford to let his guard down. Not with Han. Not with this case. Not with her.

But somehow, as he pulled into his lot, shutting off the truck and staring into the dark reflection of his own face in the windshield, he already knew:

It was too late for that.

Tomorrow, he’d confront Han.

Tomorrow, he’d see just how deep this rot went.

And tomorrow, he’d do his damned best to pretend V wasn’t already under his skin.

But as he stepped out of the truck, into the cold, into the silence of the night, the scent still clung to him. Sweet. Rich. Like something that wasn’t supposed to last but refused to fade.

Chapter Text

V groaned as the sunlight forced its way through the blinds, slashing across her face like a goddamn scalpel. Every muscle in her body protested as she rolled onto her back, inhaling deep, stretching out the stiffness from last night’s shitshow. A dull ache lingered in her shoulder, but it was nothing a hot shower wouldn’t fix.

'Christ, you look like shit.'

V sighed, rubbing her temple. "Good morning to you too, Johnny."

Johnny leaned against her dresser, arms crossed, wearing his usual look of smug amusement. 'Yeah, yeah, rise and shine, princess. Got another suicide mission lined up today, or are you just gonna throw yourself at Ward ‘til he catches you?'

She shot him a glare as she pushed to her feet. "You jealous?"

'Pfft.' He scoffed. ' Of what? Guy’s got a stick so far up his ass I’m surprised he can sit down.'

V smirked. "Mm. And yet you keep bringing him up."

Johnny rolled his eyes. ' Yeah, ‘cause I enjoy watching you dig your own grave. Entertaining as hell.'

"Fuck off, Silverhand," she muttered, kicking the sheets off and sitting up.

'That’s the spirit.' He smirked. ' Gotta say, I half expected you to wake up in Ward’s passenger seat, drooling all over his dashboard.'

She stretched, rolling her neck. "Tempting, but I figured I’d keep things classy."

Johnny snorted. 'Yeah, you’re all about class.'

V flipped him off on her way to the shower.

Warm water streamed down her skin, working out the knots in her muscles as she leaned against the tile. She closed her eyes, letting the heat sink deep into her bones, washing away the remnants of the night before. It was the only time she ever really let herself slow down. No guns, no smart-ass remarks, no fights—just steam curling around her, the dull patter of water on tile.

For a while, she let herself exist in that quiet. Her fingers traced over an old scar on her side, then another on her shoulder. Reminders of how many times she should’ve been dead already. She exhaled through her nose, tilting her head back. No point thinking about it. Not now.

The holo pinged, cutting through the moment.

V groaned, dragging a hand down her face before peeking at the caller ID.

River Ward.

"Shit." She grabbed a towel, shaking out her hair, but the call had already gone missed.

Before she could debate calling back, the holo buzzed again. She answered, expecting the usual gruff greeting.

Instead, silence.

Then—

"Shit—" A cough. "Uh. Bad time?"

She glanced down at herself, then back at the tiny screen where River’s face was frozen in mild horror.

V smirked. "What, never seen a woman fresh outta the shower before?"

River looked off-screen, exhaling sharply, like he was physically restraining himself. "Look, just—get dressed. We’re meeting at Chubby Buffalo’s in an hour. I’m talking to Han. You’re my witness."

"Ooh, so formal." She tilted her head, dragging it out just to watch him squirm. "Want me to wear something nice? Maybe heels?"

"V."

She chuckled. "Relax, Ward. I’ll be ready. You picking me up?"

"Yeah."

"Good." She leaned in closer to the screen, lowering her voice into something syrupy sweet. "I like being your passenger princess."

River’s jaw twitched. "Jesus."

Then the call ended.

***

She was barely fastening the last strap on her holster when she heard the familiar text ping.

[River W.]

I'm here.

She grabbed her jacket. The elevator ride down couldn’t be short enough. When she stepped outside, she spotted the familiar truck pulled up in the lot. A slow smile tugged at her lips as she opened the door and slid into the passenger seat.

"Nice of you to dress this time," River muttered, eyes locked on the road.

She grinned, adjusting her seat. "Still thinking about it, huh?"

He exhaled sharply through his nose. "Buckle up."

That was all. Flat. Clipped. Like he was cutting the conversation off before it could even start.

She fastened her seatbelt, biting back a grin—but whatever heat had sparked between them just moments ago flickered out, replaced by something else. Something thick. Unspoken.

The truck rumbled forward.

And the silence fell.

Not an easy silence. Not even a charged one. It was the kind that crawled , that choked , that dug its nails into the space between them and refused to let go.

V let it stretch. Let it stew.

But River?

River sat in it . Drowned in it. His fingers flexed and unflexed against the wheel, jaw so tight she could hear his teeth grinding. The neon smear of Night City bled across his profile, hollowing the shadows under his eyes, sharpening the tension pulling his face tight.

He looked like a man unraveling by the second, barely keeping himself stitched together.

She studied him—really studied him. The exhaustion clinging to his edges. The way his hands gripped the wheel, knuckles bloodless.

"You sure about this?" she asked finally, breaking the silence.

A long beat. Then—one single, curt nod.  "Yeah."

But the way his fingers twitched? The way he exhaled sharp through his nose, like he was trying to force something down? That told a different story.

"You just gonna stew in it the whole way there?" she prodded. "Or you wanna actually talk about it?"

His grip on the wheel tightened. "Nothing to talk about."

Bullshit.

"River."

His name hung between them, heavier than the city outside.

His knuckles turned white. He exhaled sharply, jaw locking down even tighter. "Han was my partner. My friend. And now I gotta look him in the eye and pretend like I don’t want to put a bullet in his skull."

The words were raw, laced with something lethal. She didn’t doubt he meant them. But that wasn’t all that was eating at him.

"And that’s it? That’s the only thing screwing with your head right now?"

His head turned, just slightly, like he could feel her eyes on him but refused to meet them.

A slow, knowing smile tugged at her lips. "This about Han? Or something else?"

Nothing. No reaction. But his grip on the wheel twitched .

She leaned back, dragging it out.  "Has nothing to do with a certain someone answering your call in nothing but a towel?"

She kept her tone playful, like she wasn’t trying to poke the wound. Maybe she wasn’t . Maybe it was just curiosity. Maybe she wanted to know what went through his head when he saw her like that—if he even allowed himself to feel something about it.

If he ever let himself want .

His entire body went rigid. "V—"

"C’mon, Ward," she teased, voice dripping with amusement. "You’re a detective. Surely you can figure out why you’re so wound up."

She expected a scoff. A side glance. Maybe a muttered real mature, V . A flicker of amusement that would let her know she’d pulled him, even just an inch, out of whatever pit he was in

His hands flexed—once, twice—before tightening into fists against the leather. He should’ve let it roll off him, should’ve cracked some half-assed joke and kept things easy. Should’ve done anything but this. Instead, the words were out before he could stop them—sharp, unfiltered, and cutting straight through the air between them.

"Not everything is a goddamn game to me, V."

The silence that followed was heavier than the snap of his voice. He didn’t look at her, wouldn’t. Just stared dead ahead, knuckles bloodless where they gripped the wheel. But she felt it anyway, the weight of it, the way it landed like a fist to the ribs.

She barely let it show.

Barely.

Her smirk stayed frozen in place—practiced, effortless—but something inside her twisted, sharp and deep.

Ah. So that’s how it was.

She exhaled through her nose, slow. Forced a chuckle. "Didn’t know I was playing."

River didn’t answer. Didn’t move.

But the damage was already done.

He gripped the wheel like a lifeline, like if he held on hard enough, he could keep himself from slipping. Keep himself from acknowledging whatever was clawing its way up his throat. His jaw was locked, his entire body tense as he pulled into the parking lot.

When he finally spoke, his voice was lower, strained. "Stay close."

V swallowed the sting, shoving it down where it couldn’t reach her, twisting it into something that looked like indifference. She flashed a grin, all ease and carelessness, like she hadn’t just felt something between them splinter.

"Relax, Ward."

She stepped out without looking back.

Didn’t have to.

She could feel him watching her, the weight of his stare pressing between her shoulder blades, regret hanging thick in the air between them. But he wouldn’t say anything. Wouldn’t take it back.

Because admitting he was hurting her would mean ripping open a door he’d spent too long trying to keep shut—and if he did that, if he let himself feel it, there’d be no closing it again.

***

Han was already there, leaning against his car, cigarette dangling between his fingers, his long coat draped lazily over broad shoulders. Same dark glasses, same smug bastard from the footage.

"Still running with this punk?" Han jerked his chin toward V, flicking ash onto the ground like she was a speck of dirt on his boot.

"Shut it, Harold." River’s voice was ice-cold, the anger barely leashed. "I know what you did."

Han took a slow drag, exhaled through his nose. "That so?"

River stepped forward, his entire body coiled like a live wire. "Not gonna ask why you covered it up. Or why you even got involved in this shit to begin with. I just want one thing—who gave the order?"

Han blew out smoke in a slow, deliberate motion. "What’s it matter, River? Why d’you even care?"

River’s nostrils flared. "Because it should’ve been me, right?"

Han’s smirk was infuriatingly smug. "Now you’re getting it."

V didn’t react. Just stood there, arms crossed, weight shifted onto one leg. She was done playing cleanup for River. Done pretending she wasn’t seeing exactly what was happening between them.

Han sighed, like he was indulging a slow-witted child. "Your conscience is clear? Good. ‘Cause I took all the responsibility. I always do, to protect that thread morality of yours." His voice was smooth, practiced. "You think your knight-in-shining-armor act means anything? This city eats idealists for breakfast."

Johnny’s voice curled in her ear, dry as desert wind. ' Hey, look, it’s the official NCPD manual on How to Sell Out, delivered by a walking piece of shit.' 

V’s lip curled. "You actually believe that bullshit, or you just trying to convince yourself?"

Han exhaled another plume of smoke, eyes settling on her. "You don't get it yet?"

V tilted her head. Then shook it. "Not really."

Han hummed, something almost amused in the sound. "Where you from?"

She didn’t hesitate. "Corpo."

That got a reaction—a slow, knowing smirk. "Corpo bitch, huh? Figures."

Johnny snickered. ' Gotta say, I’m enjoying this already.' 

Han tapped his cigarette, embers trailing into the dark. "Let me give you some advice, then. See, in this city, there ain't justice. Ain't no good guys riding in to save the day. Just different shades of people willing to do what it takes to survive. You should understand that better than most."

V didn’t respond. Just kept her arms crossed, face unreadable.

Han shrugged. "See, the NCPD—that’s my family, my clan." He gestured broadly, the cigarette between his fingers glowing in the dim light. "You don’t break with your family. You don’t turn your back on your people."

River stepped closer, his breathing heavy. "You were supposed to be one of the good ones."

Han let out a short, humorless chuckle. "Good ones? There are no good ones, Ward. That’s where you fucked up. Thought you could make a difference." He tilted his head, eyes glinting with cruel amusement. "Tell me, how’s that working out for you?"

River’s fists clenched. "Got a scroll, got a motive, got your confession."

Han snorted. "Internal Affairs won’t touch me. But you? Oh, they’ll be all over you like flies on shit. You really think this changes anything? You think you can win?"

He took a step forward, lowering his voice. "Forget it, Ward. That’s my advice. You think you’re fighting for justice, but you’re just another cog in the machine. IA’ll bury the case. Your bosses’ll turn on you. And if you dig too deep? You end up like Rhyne."

River’s breath was sharp, nostrils flaring. "Then I’ll burn it all down."

Han’s smirk faltered—just for a second, just long enough for V to catch it. His fingers twitched before he tucked his hands into his coat pockets, voice dropping to something quieter, almost... exasperated. "That’s the thing about fire, Ward. Burns the ones holding the torch first. You never get that, do you? Always had to be the hero. Always had to believe in something. That’s why I took the fall, every damn time. Because you wouldn’t survive the reality of this city if you had to carry it yourself."

The words sounded like a dismissal, but V caught something else in them. A warning. Not a threat, not quite—but close enough. And something deeper, something more reluctant.

"I suggest you really let it go. It's for the best. Go get some sleep, you look terrible."

With that, he crushed his cigarette under his boot, slid into his car, and drove off without a backward glance

River exhaled sharply. "Fuck." He turned away, storming over to the edge of the lot, elbows braced against the concrete barrier as he stared out over the city. The neon haze reflected in his eyes, but there was no light behind them—just exhaustion, frustration, barely contained rage.

V hesitated. Watched the tension ride up his shoulders. Knew she should say something.

She didn’t.

"So," she said after a moment, voice measured, distant. "What now?"

"Won’t let this go. Can’t." His voice was low, controlled, but there was a dangerous edge to it. "Holt murdered Rhyne. Wanted his seat. Oldest damn motive in the book. That’s why I believe it."

"Same." She leaned a hip against the barrier, but didn’t get comfortable. Already felt the distance settling between them. "Only one who stood to gain."

River nodded, lips pressing into a tight line. "Taking this to Internal Affairs. Got enough to get this case reopened."

Johnny snickered. ' Yeah, ‘cause the NCPD’s just overflowing with integrity.' 

V shot him a quick glare before nodding at River. "Do it."

River didn’t respond right away. Just looked at her, something unreadable in his expression. Expecting—what? A joke? Some easy banter to smooth over the cracks? Not this time. 

"Need ride home?"

She shook her head. "I'll call my bike."

She didn’t give him anything. No teasing smirk, no warmth in her voice. Just a curt nod before turning toward her bike.

River watched her go, jaw tight. He could feel it now, the shift. The way she was pulling away, closing herself off. He thought she’d get over it, thought things would go back to normal.

But there was no normal. Not anymore.

He exhaled, running a hand through his hair, watching her swing onto her bike without so much as a backward glance.

“V—”

She didn’t stop. Didn’t look back.

She paused just enough to make sure he heard. Not warmth. Not anger. Just a cool, professional detachment. "Pleasure working with you, Detective Ward."

The words hit harder than any punch.

Then she twisted the throttle and disappeared into the night.

Johnny hummed, voice curling around her mind like cigarette smoke. ‘Damn shame. Bet he doesn’t even realize what he just lost.’ 

V didn’t answer. Just kept riding, putting more distance between herself and everything she was better off leaving behind. V didn’t try to identify that sinking feeling in her stomach, and instead, decided to phone Elizabeth Peralez. No time to waste.

River stayed where he was, hands clenched into fists, staring at the spot where she’d vanished, the ache settling deep in his bones.

He'd lost more than just a case tonight.

*** 

The elevator to the Peralez's penthouse was slow—too slow for V’s taste. A soft tune played through concealed speakers, pretentious piano notes weaving through the air as if they could mold her mood or win her favor. Instead, they only grated on her nerves. Her foot tapped against the floor impatiently, her fingers drumming a restless rhythm against her thigh.

Johnny materialized by the chrome-covered doors, arms crossed, mouth already curled into a smirk. ' What’s got your damn panties in a twist, V?'

She flicked her gaze to him, willed her foot to chill. “Nothin’.”

He scoffed. Clearly didn’t believe it. She had to remind herself—lying to him was pointless. Not like he’d ever let her forget it.

Johnny didn’t push. Not on that, anyway. 'Just gonna tell you one thing.'

V glanced at him sideways. “What’s that?”

His demeanor hardened. Eyebrows scrunched down, two dark lines shadowing his face. ' Don’t get too deep in this. You tell ‘em too much, you’re askin’ to get burned.'

V’s jaw tensed, but she didn’t answer. Of course, this case had turned into something much bigger than anticipated. Proved Johnny wrong about his “seen crazy coincidences” spiel. The players involved could make her disappear in a heartbeat—corpos and NCPD alike. That much was clear.

But to deny the Peralez the truth? To keep them in the dark when they were the ones most at risk? That was a step too far, even for her.

The elevator doors opened, and she stepped out, leaving Johnny behind with whatever half-baked lecture he still had in him.

Elizabeth Peralez greeted her with a nod, her appearance as flawless as ever. “Hello, V. Please, come in. Make yourself at home. Jefferson will join us shortly.”

Inside, the penthouse was pristine, opulent yet cold. The grand piano played itself, its ghostly melody threading through the vast space. Security cameras lurked in the corners of every other wall—a wise move, considering what she was about to tell them.

Elizabeth led the way to the living room. V sank into the leather sectional, forced herself to relax even though the luxury put her on edge. Across from her, Jefferson entered through the terrace doors, his expression shifting to something more businesslike.

“I didn’t expect to hear from you so soon, but Elizabeth tells me you have answers for us.”

V hesitated only a beat before leaning forward, elbows resting on her knees. “Yeah. I do.”

She started carefully, threading the needle between full transparency and self-preservation. Told them about Rhyne’s death not being a fluke, about the tampered braindance that had fried his neural system. Laid out what she knew, piece by piece, ensuring it wasn’t just digestible—but useful. Left out just enough to keep herself from becoming a target, but not so much that it would leave them blind.

Elizabeth’s lips pressed together, her fingers tightening around the glass in her hand. Jefferson, on the other hand, sat motionless, absorbing every word. When she finished, he exhaled sharply.

“So we were right,” he murmured. “It wasn’t natural.”

“No,” V confirmed. “Not even close.”

Elizabeth exchanged a look with her husband. “We’ll have to be careful, Jeff. Very careful.”

V fought the smirk threatening to surface. The woman had a sharp mind—far sharper than the usual corpo wives who spoke as much as the furniture they decorated their penthouses with.

Jefferson turned his attention back to her. “We appreciate your honesty, V. Really.”

He stood, prompting her to do the same. The gratitude in his eyes was rare—genuine. Almost made her hope he’d win the election. Maybe, just maybe, he could be what this city needed.

Elizabeth moved beside her husband, resting a hand on his shoulder as they discussed something. It was a subtle, unconscious movement, one that spoke of familiarity, of trust, of years spent together in a way that was enviable. Something in V’s chest tightened as she watched them. How easily they leaned into each other, how they instinctively moved in sync.

She forced herself to look away, but the sight of the Peralez—so effortlessly in sync, so certain in their trust—had already carved its way under her skin. The envy hit her like a sucker punch, sharp and unexpected. That kind of connection, that kind of unwavering support—it wasn't for people like her. Not for mercs who lived day by day, always waiting for the next betrayal, the next job gone sideways.

River's face flickered in her mind, unbidden. She had thought they were getting close, that maybe—just maybe—there was something there worth holding onto. But then came his words, sharp, tearing through that fragile notion.  Now, she wasn’t sure if she was more angry at him for saying it or at herself for ever thinking otherwise.

She clenched her jaw, pushing the thought down before it could take root. No point dwelling on things that weren’t meant to be.

She swallowed hard, pushing the thought aside before it could sink in too deep.

“Here’s your fee.”

The 12k eddies came in an instant, his eye implants flashing blue as the transfer completed. V kept her expression neutral, though internally, her cred chip let out a sigh of relief.

“Thanks,” she said. “You two watch each other’s backs. And if you ever need anything, or got another job, just holler at me.”

***

The elevator hummed around her, a quiet mechanical whir as it descended, but the silence in her head was deafening.

V pressed the back of her head against the cold metal wall, eyes slipping shut, but the moment she did

"Not everything is a goddamn game to me, V."

The words rang out again, cutting through the static, sharp as a blade slipping between ribs.

She exhaled through her nose, slow and measured, but it did nothing to steady the sinking weight in her chest. She should be over it. It was just words. Just another conversation gone sideways, another moment she should’ve seen coming before it hit like a goddamn train.

But it stayed. Crawled under her skin, dug deep like a parasite, refusing to be shaken loose.

Because it wasn’t just the words, was it?

It was the way he’d said them. And when he threw those words at her, when he sat behind that wheel and refused to look at her, something had splintered.

She should be over it. It was just another bad night, another tension-filled drive through a city that never stopped grinding people into dust. It wasn’t like she hadn’t been through worse.

But the sinking feeling in her gut? It wasn’t going anywhere. It clawed deep, burrowing beneath skin and bone.

She exhaled sharply. Shook her head. No point dwelling on shit that ain’t meant to be.

The elevator gave a low chime, doors sliding open. The rush of Night City spilled in around her—bright, loud, alive —but none of it touched the gnawing weight inside her ribs.

She pushed forward, boots hitting the pavement with practiced ease. 

“So,” she muttered, knocking on Johnny’s proverbial door. “Was I careful enough for ya?”

For a second, he didn’t answer.

Then—

“Hm.”

No sarcasm. No mocking tone. Just that single, unimpressed grunt.

V scoffed, shaking her head. "Jesus, really? That all I get?"

Johnny finally stirred, flickering into view beside her, arms crossed, leaning against a streetlight that wasn’t really there. His gaze dragged over her like he was reading a book he already knew the ending to.

"What, you want a pat on the back?" His voice was dry, almost bored, but there was something else under it. Something she didn’t wanna name. "You did the job. Got your eddies. Case closed. Ain't that all that matters?"

She knew what he was actually asking.

And she wasn’t about to answer.

Instead, she let out a slow exhale and turned her focus back to her holo, scrolling through the contacts.

The name was already there. Right at the top.

Her thumb hovered over it.

She hesitated.

Johnny shifted beside her, watching. "Tch. So that's how it's gonna be, huh?"

She didn’t bite. Didn’t snap back like she usually would. Just pressed the call button.

The dial tone rang.

Once.

Twice.

Three times.

She shouldn’t have called. Didn’t even know why she did. It wasn’t like she didn’t talk to him all the damn time—hell, they’d just seen each other yesterday. But tonight, the weight in her chest felt heavier, pressing against her ribs like a vice, and she didn’t know where else to put it.

The line clicked.

But then—

"¿V? That you, chica?"

She barely got her voice to work. “Yeah…” She exhaled, the weight in her chest shifting— not gone, but different now. “Yeah, Jackie. It’s me.”

Chapter Text

The days that followed were slow, dragging out like an old wound that refused to close. River spent most of them in his apartment, the steady hum of the city below a dull backdrop to his isolation. Mornings bled into nights with little distinction—time was just a concept when you had nowhere to be, nothing to do but bury yourself in work. Meals were an afterthought, coffee cups stacked on the counter, whiskey bottles replacing them when the caffeine no longer did the trick.

The walls of his apartment felt smaller with each passing hour, cluttered with old case files, crime scene photos, half-written reports that would never see a conclusion. He told himself it was all necessary, that staying busy meant staying sharp, but really? It was just something to fill the silence. Something to keep his mind from circling back to the things he didn’t want to think about.

The report to Internal Affairs remained unfinished, the cursor blinking on an empty document like a taunt. He should’ve filed it by now, should’ve done the right thing—but he didn’t. Maybe it was hesitation. Maybe it was self-preservation.

Or maybe it was her.

He worked late into the night, the air thick with the stale scent of too many sleepless hours, the low flicker of neon from the window casting distorted shadows across his desk. Sleep came in short, restless bursts, and when it did, it brought dreams—dreams of her. Dreams where she was close, where he could hear the smirk in her voice, feel the way she moved just within reach. And then there were the other dreams—the ones where she turned away, face unreadable, disappearing into the neon glow of Night City like a ghost.

He’d wake up still in his chair, stiff and aching, a file open in front of him, or worse—wake up with her name on his lips, the taste of regret thick in his throat. He’d shake it off, pour another drink, and tell himself he was fine. That it didn’t matter.

But it did. And he hated that.

She lingered in his mind like an unsolved case, a puzzle missing too many pieces, and no matter how many times he told himself to let it go, he couldn’t. She was there. In the hesitation before another sip of whiskey. In the flicker of doubt before he dove back into work. In the quiet moments when his mind wandered, and he found himself wondering where she was, what she was doing, if she was thinking about him, too.

And that was the worst part—because he knew better. He knew what happened when you let someone get too close.

Han, to his credit, hadn't pressed him about the IA report. If anything, their interactions had taken on a strange ease—like they were two soldiers in the same war, but on different fronts. They still met for drinks, still shared the occasional case detail that was too sensitive for the department’s ears. River didn’t trust him, not fully, but there was no denying that some part of him still wanted to.

“Gotta say, didn’t expect you to keep talking to me after the way you stormed off,” Han mused one evening, sipping from a glass of whiskey at the back of a dimly lit bar. “Figured you’d either punch me or finally file that IA report.”

River exhaled, rubbing his temple. “Haven’t decided yet.”

Han chuckled. “See, that’s what I like about you, Ward. Always weighing your options. But lemme ask you something—what happens if IA buries this? What happens if Holt’s reach is longer than you think?”

River didn’t answer right away. He already knew the answer, but saying it out loud meant admitting it.

The bar was a dive, a little too loud, a little too crowded, but it served its purpose. Han was nursing a whiskey, his smirk widening as he sized River up. “Damn. You look worse than usual. You been sleeping?”

River shot him a flat look. “Didn’t come here for an interrogation.”

Han snorted. “Yeah? Then why’d you come? ‘Cause let’s be real—you ain’t the type to get a drink just for fun.”

River didn’t answer right away, instead signaling the bartender for his own glass. Han just watched him, waiting, and when River didn’t immediately offer anything, he leaned back with a knowing grin. “Ah. This about V, huh?”

River stiffened just enough for Han to catch it.

“Knew it.” Han chuckled, shaking his head. “Man, you got it bad.”

“Drop it.”

“Nah, see, I’d love to, but it’s kinda hard when you’re out here lookin’ like some lovesick gonk.” Han swirled his drink, eyeing River with far too much amusement. “C’mon, Ward, when’s the last time you let someone get under your skin like this?”

“She’s a merc,” River muttered, taking a slow sip from his drink. “She’s reckless, unpredictable. You don’t work with people like that and come out clean.”

Han raised a brow. “And yet, here you are, thinkin’ about her anyway.”

River leaned back, arms crossed. “Thought I’d do some digging.”

Han’s expression shifted—something flickering behind his gaze before he took another sip. “That one’s a ghost.”

River frowned. “What do you mean?”

Han set his glass down, tapping a finger against the rim. “I mean, I tried looking once. Out of curiosity. Didn’t find shit. No real background, no records worth a damn. Just a name that pops up in all the wrong places, tied to some high-profile gigs. Every time, they come out clean. But—get this—I did find one thing.”

River raised a brow. "Yeah?"

Han smirked. "Arasaka, she used to work there. Perhaps her whole family does. That’s why she’s a ghost. Either she’s damn good at covering her tracks, or someone’s doing it for her."

River absorbed that, the weight of it settling in. “So, what? They’re protected?”

Han shrugged. “Maybe. Or maybe they’re just that good.” He leaned forward, lowering his voice slightly. “Either way, I’d be careful.”

Then Han smirked, eyes narrowing. “But let’s be real here, Ward—you ain’t looking her up ‘cause she’s a security risk. She’s got you twisted up in knots, doesn’t she?”

River’s glare was immediate. “Drop it.”

Han raised a brow. “And yet, here you are, thinkin’ about her anyway.”

River exhaled sharply, setting his glass down with more force than necessary. “It’s complicated.”

Han’s smirk widened. “Yeah, no shit. She’s a corpo runaway with a trail so clean it’s like she never existed. Meanwhile, you? You’re the guy who’s supposed to see things in black and white.” He tapped the side of his glass. “Guess that’s getting a little blurry, huh?”

River didn’t reply, but he didn’t need to. Han already knew.

Han grinned. “Look, man, I ain’t saying you should run off into the sunset with her. But if she’s got you this wrapped up, maybe you oughta figure out why.”

River scoffed. “And what? Ask her over dinner?”

Han shrugged. “Wouldn’t kill you to try something outside the job, y’know. But hey, you do you. Just don’t pretend she ain’t already in your head.”

River ran a hand over his face, suddenly tired. He’d come here to clear his head, but all he’d done was give Han more ammunition. And the worst part? Han wasn’t wrong.

He sighed, downing the rest of his drink. “Gonna regret coming out tonight.”

Han laughed. “Oh, you definitely will. But hey, at least now you know—whatever this thing is with her? It ain’t goin’ away just ‘cause you ignore it.”

River scoffed, shaking his head. “You’re delusional.”

Han leaned back, swirling the last of his whiskey. “Nah, just observant. Man like you? Spends days stuck on one person, digging through files, losing sleep? That ain’t just curiosity, Ward. That’s a problem.”

River exhaled through his nose, jaw tight. He wanted to argue, but what was the point? He had been thinking about her too much, and the worst part? Han noticed. Of course he did.

“Still doesn’t sit right,” River muttered, steering the conversation back. “A corpo turned merc with no past, no paper trail? Either she burned every trace of her old life, or there’s someone out there making sure she stays off the grid.”

Han tilted his head, smirking. “Or maybe she don’t have a history ‘cause she started fresh. Ain’t that what Night City does? Chews you up, spits you out, and makes you someone new?”

River frowned, considering that. But something about V—her eyes, the way she carried herself, the way she seemed to know too much—made it hard to believe she was just another corpo who broke free and hit the streets. No, she had lived through something. More than him, maybe. And now, she was trying to outrun it. He wasn’t looking for dirt, just... something. Some kind of foundation. But if V really was a ghost, that meant one of two things: either they were running from something, or someone was making sure their past stayed buried.

And for some reason, that didn’t sit right with him.

Later that night, River sat at his desk, holo-screen glowing dimly in the darkened apartment. V’s file was open, sparse and frustratingly empty. He frowned, eyes lingering on the details—or lack thereof. 

Name: V.

Age: 23.

Address: Unknown.

Family: Unknown.

She was young. Too young. Twenty-three. Meanwhile, he was pushing forty, his best years already chewed up and spit out by Night City. But somehow, when he looked at her, it never felt that way. If anything, she carried herself like someone who had already lived twice as long as him. There was something in her eyes—something weathered, something tired. Like she had seen too much, lost too much, and had already made peace with it.

That unsettled him more than anything else.

The only official record? A single speeding ticket when she was sixteen. A teenager with too much speed under her and too little fear. He could picture it—the rush, the reckless grin, maybe some song blasting through the speakers as she tore down the street, daring the world to stop her.

It didn’t fit, though. Not the person he knew now. The V he met wasn’t some reckless kid anymore. She was calculated. Sharp. Every move she made was precise, measured. Like someone who had already spent a lifetime learning the cost of mistakes. He huffed out a tired breath, rubbing a hand over his face.

“Sweet sixteen gone wild,” he muttered to himself, the smallest smirk twitching at the corner of his lips before fading.

He tapped the screen, scrolling through the paltry information. That was it. No criminal history. No school records. Nothing linking her to anyone or anywhere. It didn’t make sense. No one lived in Night City that clean—especially not mercs.

His fingers hovered over his holo, the urge to call or even send a message clawing at him. He could already see how it would go—she’d pick up with that same dry amusement in her voice, maybe tease him for getting sentimental. Or maybe she wouldn’t answer at all. Maybe she’d already written him off. That thought sat heavy in his chest.

He ran a hand through his hair, leaning back against the couch. The memories weren’t just in his head—they were in his skin. The way she moved, the heat of her body in close quarters, the scent of gunpowder and something faintly sweet beneath it. The way her lips curled when she got under his skin. And the way she looked fresh out of the shower, skin slick with steam, towel barely clinging to her frame—how easy it would’ve been to tug at the edge, to see it slip, to trace the water droplets as they trailed down the curve of her collarbone, lower, disappearing between her thighs.

He swallowed hard, jaw tightening. The image burned itself into his mind, refused to leave. The way she might look with her head tipped back, lips parted, breath hitching against his skin. The sound she’d make if he pressed his fingers into the dip of her waist, slid them lower. The way she’d feel beneath him—warm, yielding, but always with that spark of defiance, that challenge in her eyes, daring him to keep going.

Fuck.

He clenched his jaw, exhaling sharply through his nose, but it did nothing to clear his head. He'd taken showers hot enough to scald, stood under the stream until his skin turned red, hoping the water would wash her from his mind. But it never did. Every time he closed his eyes, she was there—flashes of bare skin, damp hair sticking to her neck, that knowing smirk that told him she saw right through him.

And then, in the quiet, came the dreams.

They weren’t just about her body. Not always. Sometimes it was her laugh, that low, smoky chuckle curling around him like smoke. Other times, it was the way she looked at him—like she was waiting for him to make a move he wasn’t ready to make. And sometimes, it was worse. Her voice in his ear, breath warm, murmuring things that left him waking up in a sweat, fists clenched in the sheets.

It pissed him off. Pissed him off that she’d gotten under his skin like this, that he couldn’t just shove her into a box labeled ‘work’ and move the fuck on. He told himself it was just a reaction—a normal, human thing. She was attractive. Confident. Dangerous in ways that had nothing to do with the guns she carried. Of course, a part of him wanted her.

But this was more than that, and he hated it.

His thumb hovered over her name on the holo. He could call. Say something. Fix it. But what the hell would he even say?

Sorry? He wasn’t good at that.

Still mad? Too casual. Too open-ended.

He locked the holo and tossed it onto the table. Instead, he turned back to his desk, eyes settling on the too many open cases. Work. That was the answer. It always had been. Bury himself in cases, drown out the thoughts clawing at the edges of his mind. Let the silence stretch, let the distance between them widen until it became too far to cross.

It was better this way. Just another name in a case file. Just another loose end he’d leave untied.

Or at least, that’s what he told himself.

***

El Coyote Cojo was just how she left it. Same dim neon glow, same scent of stale beer mixed with sizzling carne asada from the kitchen. The place had a hum to it, even at this hour—chooms kicking back after long shifts, locals talking shit over drinks, familia in the way only Heywood could make you feel it.

V pushed through the door, letting the familiar warmth of the bar settle over her like a worn-in jacket. Jackie was already there, parked at their usual spot near the back, two glasses of tequila in front of him—one for her, one for him. Predictable as ever.

"Damn, V. Took you long enough. Thought I was gonna have to drink both of these myself." He smirked, leaning back in his chair, that easy confidence oozing off him like always.

She scoffed, sliding into the seat across from him. "Like that’d stop you."

Jackie chuckled, knocking back his shot in one smooth motion. "True that. But figured you’d need this more than me tonight."

V hesitated for just a second before grabbing her own glass. The tequila burned on the way down, but at least it burned away some of the weight still sitting in her chest. Jackie watched her, eyes sharp despite the lazy grin.

"Alright, spill it."

She raised a brow. "Spill what?"

He gave her a look. "C’mon, V. I know that face. You got that ‘been-thinkin’-too-much, not-sayin’-enough’ kinda look."

V snorted. "You got me all figured out, huh?"

"Damn straight. So? Gonna tell me what’s been gnawin’ at ya, or you gonna make me guess?"

She let out a slow breath, rolling the empty shot glass between her fingers. She wanted to brush it off, make some smartass remark, shift the conversation somewhere easier. But this was Jackie. Bullshitting him never really worked, and besides... maybe she didn’t want to bullshit him.

"Had a gig," she finally said. "Usual shit—suits with secrets, backstabbing, people thinking they’re smarter than they are. Got my eddies, got out clean."

Jackie tilted his head. "Uh-huh. And that’s got you lookin’ like someone ran over your damn cat, por qué ?"

V huffed out something that was almost a laugh. "It’s..." She hesitated, staring down at the table. "It’s complicated."

"Complicated how?"

She shrugged, not quite ready to say it out loud. Not ready to put him into words. Not when she could still hear his voice in her head, raw and sharp—

Not everything is a goddamn game to me, V.

Jackie’s gaze lingered on her for a moment before he leaned back, crossing his arms. "Aha. Got it."

V frowned. "Got what?"

"This some gonk that got under your skin?" His grin was teasing, but there was something knowing in his eyes. "Some dude from the gig?"

She scoffed. "Ain’t like that."

Jackie just raised a brow, waiting.

V sighed, dragging a hand through her hair. "It’s... someone I been working with. We... I dunno. Had a moment, I guess. Then he—" She stopped herself short.

Jackie studied her, something softer creeping into his expression. "And lemme guess. He said some pendejo shit."

V let out a humorless chuckle. "Something like that."

Jackie grinned, shaking his head. "Man, V, you gotta stop lettin’ these cabrones mess with your head."

"Didn’t say he was messing with my head."

Jackie gave her a look. "Uh-huh. And I didn’t say I was hungry, but I could sure as hell go for some of Mama’s empanadas right now."

V snorted, shaking her head. "You’re a real pain in the ass, y’know that?"

"Damn right." He knocked on the table, signaling for another round. "But seriously, hermana , whoever this guy is, if he’s making you feel like this? Maybe he ain’t worth the trouble."

V exhaled slowly, drumming her fingers against the tabletop. "Maybe."

Jackie smirked. "Or maybe you just need another drink."

V smirked back. "Now that? That I can get behind."

The drinks came quick, and soon enough, the night blurred into something easier—tequila, laughter, the buzz of Heywood around them. Whatever weight she walked in with, it felt a little lighter now. Jackie had a way of doing that. Always did.

As they were finishing up, a familiar voice called out from behind the bar.

" Hijos, no van a dormir o qué? "

V turned, catching Mama Welles' unimpressed stare as she wiped down a glass.

Jackie grinned. "C’mon, Mamá , you know me—night’s still young!"

Mama Welles rolled her eyes. "You say that now. But don’t come crying to me when you wake up regretting it."

Jackie clutched his chest dramatically. " Oof , cold-blooded. That’s my own madre talkin’ like that. V, you hearin’ this?"

V smirked. "Brutal."

Mama Welles shook her head, but there was warmth behind it. "Both of you, get home safe. No trouble."

Jackie lifted his glass. "No promises."

V chuckled, shaking her head. "Yeah, yeah. We’ll be good."

Mama Welles just sighed. " Mentirosos. "

As they stepped out into the cool Night City air, V inhaled deep, letting it settle in her lungs.

"So?" Jackie nudged her with his elbow. "Feelin’ better or what?"

She glanced at him, and for the first time all night, the weight in her chest felt just a little less suffocating.

"Yeah," she said. "I think I am."

Jackie grinned. "Good. Now, how ‘bout we make this night a little more interesting?"

V arched a brow. "Oh no. What dumbass idea you got now?"

He threw an arm over her shoulder, guiding her down the street. "Couple of Maelstrom punks are runnin’ an underground fight ring not too far from here. Word is, they got bets stacked high. Easy money, if you ask me."

V smirked. "You just wanna punch somebody, don’t you?"

Jackie grinned. "What can I say? A man’s gotta let off steam."

V rolled her eyes but didn’t pull away. "Fine. But if you get your ass kicked, I’m not carrying you home."

"Yeah, yeah, hermana . Let’s go make some eddies."

The night was far from over.

Jackie led the way, his excitement practically contagious as they weaved through the neon-lit streets of Heywood. The promise of an underground fight ring, high bets, and easy eddies had him grinning like a kid in a candy store. V, on the other hand, was still debating whether this was genius or outright stupidity. Knowing Jackie? Probably both.

"You really think this is a good idea?" Johnny’s voice slithered through her mind, dripping with amusement. "Or are we just in the ‘fuck it’ stage of the night?"

V smirked, shoving her hands into her jacket pockets. "A little from column A, a little from column B."

"Atta girl." He chuckled, materializing beside her in that glitchy, flickering way he did. "Though, personally? I’d rather be hitting up Afterlife. But hey, who am I to argue with the allure of bloodsport?"

Jackie nudged her. "You talkin’ to that pendejo again?"

V snorted. "Always."

Johnny grinned. "Damn right."

Chapter Text

The fight ring was tucked away in an abandoned warehouse—no, a repurposed slaughterhouse if V had to guess. Rusted hooks still dangled from the ceiling, swaying slightly as the bass-heavy music from cheap speakers rattled the walls. The stench of blood—both fresh and old—clung to every surface, mixing with the acrid tang of sweat, cheap synth-alcohol, and oil leaking from cyberware that had seen better days.

Dim red lights flickered overhead, casting shifting shadows over the pit—a makeshift cage reinforced with salvaged rebar and chain-link fencing. The floor beneath it was stained, a patchwork of dark blotches from dried blood and spilled booze, evidence of past fights where some poor bastards hadn’t walked out the same way they walked in.

The crowd was mostly Maelstrom, their chrome-plated faces sneering as they watched the current fight. Cybernetic arms clashed, metal grinding against flesh, the sickening crunch of bone snapping under brute force echoing over the hoots and hollers of those taking bets.

Jackie took it all in with a wide grin. "Now this? This is my kinda place."

V exhaled, adjusting the collar of her jacket. "We makin’ money or making dumbass decisions first?"

"Both, obviously." Jackie’s grin widened.

Johnny sighed dramatically, flickering into view beside her, his arms crossed. "Oh sure, let’s throw ourselves into a pit full of psychos with a penchant for murder. What could possibly go wrong?"

Jackie turned to her, bouncing on the balls of his feet, practically vibrating with excitement. "Alright, hermana, who’s first? You wanna punch some chrome-heads, or you wanna watch me do all the work?"

V smirked, cracking her knuckles. "Oh, I’m not sittin’ this one out."

The cage door screeched as it was yanked open, and V stepped inside, sizing up her opponent. The bastard was a walking tank—more metal than skin. Chrome-plated arms bulged with reinforced muscle grafts, his jaw replaced with a reinforced cybernetic implant that clicked when he clenched it. His red optics flickered as they scanned her, predatory, already calculating.

She felt Vik’s words in the back of her mind, his coaching drilled into her from hours of training. Stay light on your feet. The moment you stop moving, you’re a sitting duck

The second the fight started, he lunged.

V ducked under the wild swing, feeling the rush of displaced air as his cybernetic fist missed her face by inches. He was fast, but she was faster. Twisting on the balls of her feet, she slammed her elbow into his ribs, aiming for the small sliver of unarmored flesh where his enhancements hadn’t taken over. He grunted but barely staggered, barely felt it.

"Shit."

He retaliated hard—fist like a wrecking ball slamming towards her gut. She barely managed to sidestep, but the force of the blow hitting the cage behind her rattled the entire structure. One hit and I’m done, she realized. No room for error.

She adjusted, switching to speed over power. A quick jab to his kidney—then another, faster. He growled, tried to grab her, but she twisted away, ducking low before driving her knee into his gut. It was like hitting a steel wall, but this time, he staggered. Found a weak spot.

V pressed the advantage. One, two, three sharp punches aimed at the seams of his cyberware, and his movements slowed. Then, the opening she needed—he overcommitted on a swing, leaving his left side wide open.

V pivoted, wound up, and drove a brutal roundhouse kick into his temple. A loud crack echoed through the warehouse as his head snapped sideways—then he dropped, unconscious before he even hit the ground.

The crowd roared. Jackie whistled from the sidelines. "Damn, V, remind me never to piss you off."

Johnny smirked beside her. "That was borderline unfair. I like it."

Jackie’s turn was next, and if V fought with precision, Jackie fought like an unstoppable force of nature.

His opponent was another Maelstrom bruiser, bigger than the last, his arms modified with subdermal plating that made them look more machine than man. The fight started with an explosion of movement—Jackie wasn’t one to hesitate.

The punk threw a heavy right hook. Jackie took it. Didn’t dodge, didn’t flinch—just absorbed the hit with a grunt before retaliating with a brutal left hook that cracked against the guy’s cybernetic jaw. The impact sent shockwaves up Jackie’s arm, but it did the job. The bastard reeled.

"That all you got, pendejo ?" Jackie taunted, shaking out his fist.

The guy roared, lunging forward with all his weight. Jackie sidestepped at the last second, grabbed him by the back of the head, and drove his knee straight into his face. Blood sprayed across the cage floor, and the guy barely had time to stumble before Jackie finished it—one massive uppercut that sent his opponent flying backward.

The Maelstrom bruiser hit the ground and didn’t get back up.

Jackie raised his arms, grinning like a maniac. "Easiest eddies I ever made!"

The crowd erupted, money exchanged hands, and V swiped her share from the bookie, stuffing the creds into her pocket. Her knuckles ached, her pulse was still racing, but damn, it felt good.

Johnny grinned. "Now that? That was entertainment."

V rolled her shoulders, still buzzing with adrenaline. She caught Jackie’s wild grin and couldn’t help but mirror it.

"Alright, big guy. What’s next?"

Jackie slung an arm over her shoulders, leading her toward the exit. "Afterlife, hermana. Drinks are on me."

Johnny grinned beside her, glitching in and out of view. "Listen to the man, V. Afterlife’s never a bad idea."

She sighed, knowing resistance was futile. "Fine. But if Rogue kicks us out, it’s on you."

With pockets heavier and blood still pumping, they left the warehouse, laughing into the neon-lit streets of Night City.

Afterlife was alive with the usual crowd—mercs, fixers, and big-time players making deals over overpriced drinks. The bass-heavy music pulsed through the dimly lit club, neon strobes casting wild flashes over the sea of people. The air smelled of booze, smoke, and the faint metallic tang of cyberware overheating after a job gone wrong.

V and Jackie shoved their way to the bar, sliding into their usual corner. Jackie slammed his hand onto the counter. "Whiskey. The good stuff. We’re celebratin’."

Claire gave them both a knowing smirk as she poured their drinks. "Another successful night of bad decisions?"

V lifted her glass. "You know it."

They were only a few shots in when Rogue approached, arms crossed, expression unimpressed. "Well, well. If it isn’t Night City’s finest dumbasses."

Johnny snorted, materializing beside V. "Ah, she always did have a way with words."

V smirked, swirling her drink. "Miss us, Rogue?"

"Like a bullet wound." Rogue exhaled, fixing them with a hard stare. "Heard you two cleaned house at some Maelstrom pit. That true?"

Jackie grinned, clearly proud. "Damn right! Easy eddies."

Rogue shook her head, unimpressed. "Try not to get your dumb asses killed, yeah?"

Johnny smirked, nudging V. "She likes you."

V rolled her eyes. "Yeah, yeah."

But she didn’t have time to argue. Jackie was already slamming another drink into her hand. "C’mon, hermana. One night, no stress."

The air reeked of booze, sweat, and expensive cologne mixed with the occasional ozone burn of overused cyberware.

Jackie, already hyped, threw himself into the chaos. He was everywhere at once—greeting old friends, slamming drinks, dragging people onto the dance floor. He had that kind of energy that pulled people in like a magnet, his laughter cutting through the music. V couldn’t help but smile watching him, even as she leaned back against the bar, nursing another drink.

But it wasn’t just Jackie getting attention.

She felt eyes on her. The kind of looks that lingered a little too long, trailing over her frame, waiting for an opening. And for once? She didn’t mind. The whiskey was warm in her stomach, buzzing under her skin, making her feel light and pretty and absolutely reckless.

First guy was some Corpo type, suit unbuttoned just enough to try and pass as relaxed. He slid in next to her, a charming smirk on his lips. "Didn’t expect to see you here."

V tilted her head, giving him a slow, amused once-over. "And you are?"

He laughed. "No one important. But you? You’re making it very hard to focus on anything else."

Smooth. But she was already bored.

She smirked, tossing back her shot. "Then don’t."

He blinked, caught off guard, but before he could recover, she was already moving.

Second guy had more edge. Tattoos crawling up his arms, cyberware gleaming under the flashing lights. He was leaning against the bar when she brushed past him, turning to face her with an easy grin. "V, right?"

She raised a brow. "Depends who’s asking."

He chuckled, shifting closer, fingers grazing the rim of her glass. "Someone who wouldn’t mind buying you another."

Johnny, sitting on the bar like a ghostly spectator, scoffed. "Ugh. Predictable."

V, thoroughly enjoying herself, hummed. "That depends. You just buyin’ drinks, or you got somethin’ else in mind?"

Tattoo Guy grinned, leaning in like he had a shot.

But then Jackie crashed into them, half-dancing, half-dragging Crispin along, and the moment was gone. V just laughed, brushing past her would-be suitor, already hunting for her next distraction.

Then came Tiny Mike.

"Didn’t think I’d see you this fucked up," he said, sliding onto the stool beside her, arms resting casually on the bar.

V smirked, tilting her head. "Guess tonight’s full of surprises."

Johnny groaned. "Oh no. Don’t tell me you’re actually gonna flirt with this guy."

Tiny Mike chuckled, his eyes flicking down to her lips before snapping back up. "Well, can’t say I mind."

She giggled. Actually giggled. A sure sign she was beyond gone. Somewhere in her brain, she knew this was a bad idea. But the whiskey said fuck it.

She let her fingers trace the rim of her glass, glancing up at him through her lashes. "Y’know, Mike, for a guy named Tiny, you sure got a way of makin’ an impression."

His grin widened, shoulders shifting as he turned toward her, their knees bumping. "That so?"

V leaned in just enough for the heat between them to spark, her breath brushing against his jaw. "Mhm. Wonder what else about you is misleading."

Tiny Mike exhaled sharply, his fingers twitching like he wanted to grab her waist. "You keep talkin’ like that, I’m gonna start thinkin’ you got plans for me tonight."

She bit her lip, laughing, the whiskey making everything feel easy . The music pulsed, the bodies pressed together on the dance floor, and before she could second-guess it, she grabbed his hand, pulling him up. "C’mon, Mike. Let’s find out."

The dance floor swallowed them whole. The music was a living thing, curling around her, bass rattling her bones. Tiny Mike had his hands on her waist, and she let him, let the warmth of his touch settle her spinning head. They moved together, bodies close, her fingers sliding up his arms, nails grazing his skin just to hear him exhale .

He was into it. Really into it. His grip tightened when she rolled her hips, his lips brushing her ear as he murmured, "You’re gonna kill me, V."

She grinned, dragging a hand up his chest. "That a promise?"

Johnny appeared beside them, arms crossed. "Wow. Just zero shame tonight, huh?"

V ignored him, tilting her head up, eyes half-lidded. Tiny Mike took that as permission to dip down, just enough for their lips to brush—

And that’s when she had her next brilliant idea.

She yanked out her holo, barely registering her own actions as she flipped to her contacts. Found him .

Johnny’s eyes widened. "Oh, this is gonna be good."

V snapped a picture—herself pressed up against Tiny Mike, lips on his cheek, his hands still gripping her waist. Sloppy, a little blurry, but just incriminating enough.

She giggled, flicking through the filters until she found one that made the neon lights behind them pop. Just enough to make it look effortless. Just enough to piss him off.

Johnny materialized beside her, arms crossed, smirking. "Oh, you’re really leaning into the bad decisions tonight."

V didn’t even look up, fingers clumsy but determined as she typed out the message.

[V] 

Tiny Mike says hi.

Johnny howled with laughter. "Holy shit. You trying to get a bullet in your inbox?"

She shrugged, tossing back the rest of her drink before hitting send. The message disappeared, and for a moment, there was nothing but the pulse of the club, the bass rattling through her bones, Tiny Mike’s breath warm against her skin.

Then—her holo buzzed.

River Ward.

Her stomach twisted, but she ignored it, swiping the call away before tucking the holo back into her jacket.

"Not tonight," she muttered, turning back to Tiny Mike with a wicked grin. "Where were we?"

***

As they stumbled out of Afterlife, Jackie slung an arm around V’s shoulders. "Y’know, we should end the night with a bang."

V arched a brow. "Jackie…"

He grinned. "C’mon, hermana. I got somethin’ special lined up. Underground race. No corpos, no cops. Just the best and the craziest. Winner takes all."

"Jackie, this is the dumbest idea you’ve ever had," V muttered, but he was already grinning.

"Nah, trust me. It’s genius. Night City’s got no rules, just the ones people are too scared to break."

A few calls, a few bribes, and within twenty minutes, the hidden streets beneath Night City came alive. Abandoned tunnels, forgotten highways—places only known through whispers. Custom rides lined the cracked pavement, their neon underglows turning the underground into a fever dream. Runners from every gang, every fixer’s circle, all gathered for the kind of race no one would admit existed.

V revved the engine of a stolen Rayfield Excalibur, its chrome frame gleaming under the flickering neon lights. "Jackie, how the hell did you even get us into this?"

He smirked. "I got my ways. Now quit asking questions and drive."

V leaned out the window, grinning at her competition. A Tyger Claws hotshot with a modded-out Quadra. A Maelstrom bruiser driving something that looked like a tank. Some rich corpo brat who probably thought he could buy his way to victory.

Johnny materialized in the passenger seat, grinning like a madman. "This is gonna be a shitshow. I love it."

The signal flared. Engines roared.

Then, chaos.

They tore through the underbelly of Night City, weaving through crumbling overpasses, dodging burning wrecks, taking shortcuts that barely qualified as roads. Neon lights blurred into streaks as racers took insane jumps over collapsed bridges, cutting through long-abandoned maintenance tunnels, the walls so close they could hear the scrape of metal against concrete.

V swerved, barely missing a high-speed collision with a gang rigging an illegal cyberfight, sending a shower of sparks over the crowd. Behind her, someone exploded. Probably Maelstrom. Too chromed up to know better.

Jackie whooped from his own car, barely keeping up. "V, you’re insane!"

"That’s the point!" she hollered back.

By the time she hit the final stretch—a deathtrap of collapsing scaffolding and unfinished roads—her heart was pounding, her laughter unhinged. The only thing between her and the win was the corpo brat, still hanging on, his car loaded with illegal speed boosters.

She didn’t hesitate.

She jacked into her cyberdeck mid-sprint, flicking through vulnerabilities. The brat’s ride had a Kiroshi-locked control system—arrogant choice. A quick breach, a short-circuit command, and his engine locked up just as he hit a sharp turn. He spun out, slamming into a stack of rusted shipping crates, the impact sending a shockwave through the tunnel.

V shot through the finish line, tires screeching, neon reflected in her wild grin.

The crowd erupted, the underground roaring with cheers and the clinking of eddies changing hands.

She threw the car into a spin, coming to a stop just inches away from the betting pool, stepping out like she owned the city.

Johnny whistled. "You know, if you weren’t already a legend, this would’ve done it."

Jackie pulled up beside her, laughing. "Told you this was a good idea."

V stretched, exhaling slow. "Alright, you get this one."

Before Jackie could answer, V’s holo buzzed against her wrist. She glanced down, the adrenaline still rushing through her veins.

River Ward.

She stared at the name, stomach twisting.

"That your mystery boy?" Jackie teased, glancing over her shoulder.

She swiped the call away, shoving the holo back in her jacket. "Just another cop."

Johnny chuckled. "Yeah, keep tellin’ yourself that."

***

Instead of heading home, V ended up on Jackie’s couch, boots kicked up on the armrest as he tossed a blanket over her. The room smelled of tequila, sweat, and the faint burn of whatever they’d been chain-smoking earlier. Jackie groaned as he sank into his chair, rubbing his temples.

“You good, V?” His voice was rough, still laced with laughter from whatever ridiculous thing they’d been talking about before stumbling through his door.

V mumbled something half-coherent, her head lolling to the side. The world spun—tilted just enough to make her stomach flip—but exhaustion kept her anchored. Jackie chuckled, shaking his head.

“Shit, we are so dead when Mama Welles sees us.”

Johnny flickered into view beside her, arms crossed, leaning against the wall with that signature smirk. “Man, this is some classic Samurai shit,” he said, voice almost fond. “You, passed out after one too many. Your buddy playin’ babysitter. Just like the old days. Maybe next time you’ll puke on his shoes—really complete the experience.”

V grunted in protest, eyes shut tight against the pounding in her skull. Not tonight, Johnny. Not now.

But the night wasn’t done punishing her yet.

Her holo buzzed on the table. She groaned, barely lifting a hand to push it away. River. Again.

Jackie cracked an eye open at the sound. “Gonna get that?”

V exhaled sharply, letting the ringing continue until it cut off. “Not tonight,” she murmured.

Jackie didn’t push. He knew.

Silence settled between them for a while, the kind that felt safe—heavy, but not suffocating. Jackie finally broke it, voice softer this time.

“Did it help?”

V blinked, forcing her eyes open just enough to see him watching her, concern hidden behind his usual easygoing grin.

She huffed out a tired laugh. “Dunno. Can’t even remember half the shit we talked about.”

Jackie smirked. “Then we did it right.”

Johnny scoffed. “Yeah, that’s healthy. Real solid coping strategy. Drink until you forget why you needed to in the first place.”

V ignored him. Jackie, too. The weight in her chest hadn’t really lifted, not fully—but for a few hours, she’d been able to breathe, to forget.

And that was enough.

Tomorrow would come. But for now? She let the night take her.

Chapter Text

V woke up to the sharp sting of daylight cutting through the curtains, her skull feeling like it had been used for target practice by a very enthusiastic sniper. She groaned, throwing an arm over her eyes as the memories of last night slammed into her like a freight train—throwing punches at a chrome-junked Maelstrom bruiser in some dingy fight ring, shots of who-knows-what at Afterlife, shamelessly flirting with half the bar, then—oh yeah—stealing a Rayfield for an underground race where Jackie screamed "faster!" like a lunatic. And then… River’s call.

Shit.

Shit.

The holo buzzed again, its vibration drilling into her already pounding skull. For a second, she debated chucking it across the room, but even in her miserable state, she knew that wouldn’t help. With a groan, she forced herself upright, vision swimming as she squinted at the screen. Unread messages. River, three times. And one from Wakako—probably another gig waiting to be screwed up. She swiped a hand over her face, exhaling slowly. The last thing she wanted to deal with was another fixer or a cop asking too many questions.

Johnny materialized by the window, smirking. "Guess some people actually care if you make it through the night. How’s it feel, V?"

She groaned. "Like I got hit by a MaxTac convoy."

Across the room, Jackie was sprawled on the couch, snoring like a dying engine. His jacket was half hanging off, one boot still on, the other MIA. A bottle of tequila lay empty on the floor next to an upturned takeout container, salsa smeared across the table like evidence of a crime scene. A half-eaten burrito sat precariously on his chest, threatening to tumble with every breath. Whatever the hell they had eaten last night, it reeked of bad decisions and too much hot sauce.

A sharp voice cut through her throbbing skull. "¡Dios mío! What did you two do last night?!"

Mama Welles stood in the doorway, hands on her hips, eyes scanning the wreckage of her living room like a war general surveying a battlefield.

V winced as she sat up, every movement sending spikes of pain through her temples. Her mouth felt like she had chewed on sandpaper, and she was pretty sure her stomach was staging a mutiny. Beside her, Jackie let out a groan that sounded more like a wounded animal, shifting just enough to dislodge the half-eaten burrito precariously balanced on his chest. It flopped onto the floor with a sad splat, adding to the already impressive crime scene of salsa stains and crushed beer cans.

"Uh… long night?" V tried, her voice raspy, offering a weak grin.

Mama Welles sighed the deep, exasperated sigh of a mother who had long given up on being surprised. "Dios mío… mis hijos tontos," she muttered, shaking her head as she stomped into the kitchen. Cabinets slammed, water ran, and soon, the rich scent of coffee filled the air, a warm beacon of hope in their otherwise miserable state. The promise of caffeine was enough to make V consider moving, but only barely. Jackie groaned at the smell, rolling onto his side and mumbling something about his stomach being "full of regret and bad decisions."

Jackie peeled one eye open, hair sticking up in every direction like he had lost a fight with a tornado. His face was a mess of pillow creases and regret. "V... did I fight a Maelstrom guy last night, or was that a dream?"

V rubbed her face. "If it was a dream, we had the same one."

"Never again," he mumbled, voice thick with regret.

"Yeah, yeah," V muttered, dragging herself up with all the enthusiasm of a corpse reanimating. Her muscles ached, her head throbbed, and her stomach was still debating whether to riot. Johnny snickered beside her, looking infuriatingly fresh, untouched by the weight of last night’s excess. "You say that now, but let’s be real—give it a few days, and you’ll be back at it, making the same dumb choices."

"Fuck off."

Jackie blinked blearily at her, his sluggish brain trying to process what he'd just heard. He squinted, rubbing a hand over his face. "Did you just—wait. Are you talkin’ to the air, or did I actually miss someone walkin’ in?"

"Johnny."

Jackie raised an eyebrow, still half-asleep. "Yeah, okay. Y'know, if I didn't know better, I'd think you were still drinkin'."

Johnny chuckled, crossing his arms as he leaned against the wall. "Oh, come on, big guy. If you could hear me, you’d be way more fun to mess with."

V smirked, shaking her head. "Trust me, Jackie, if you could hear what’s in my head, you’d be worried for both of us."

Johnny grinned. "Yeah, keep tellin’ yourself that."

Mama Welles returned, setting two mugs of strong coffee down in front of them with the kind of deliberate care that only masked barely-contained frustration. "Drink. Eat. Then you will clean up this mess."

Jackie groaned but took the mug, cradling it like a lifeline. "You’re the best, Mamá."

"Mmhmm," she hummed, narrowing her eyes at him. "And you are still an idiot."

V wrapped her hands around her own mug, inhaling the bitter steam like it was holy medicine. "Did we, uh… happen to promise anything stupid last night?"

Mama Welles raised an eyebrow. "Besides breaking my couch, leaving hot sauce footprints in my kitchen, and singing—badly, may I add—on my balcony at three in the morning? No, nothing too stupid."

Jackie cringed. "Singing?"

"Mhm. Something about… ‘living fast, dying young, and being too pretty for this city’?"

Johnny snickered, watching V over the rim of an imaginary cup. "Best drunk perfomance I've ever seen"

V sighed into her coffee. "Please tell me there’s no video."

Mama Welles just smiled knowingly. "Drink your coffee, mija."

Jackie muttered something under his breath but took the coffee gratefully. V just wrapped her hands around the mug. She took a long sip, exhaling slow, letting the warmth settle the storm in her gut. The coffee was strong enough to strip paint, exactly what she needed. Jackie groaned beside her, still half-dead, while Mama Welles muttered about their poor life choices. The coffee helped. The breakfast—eggs, chorizo, and whatever miracle broth Mama Welles had whipped up—helped even more. But it wasn’t enough to completely erase the consequences of last night’s debauchery. V and Jackie still felt like roadkill, but at least now they were functioning roadkill.

Her eyes drifting back to her holo.

Unread messages.

Still waiting to be read.

Another buzz.

[River W.]

I’m coming over.

V froze, water glass halfway to her lips, a cold weight settling in her stomach. Shit. What the hell did that mean? Just showing up? He wasn’t the kind of guy to make empty threats, but he also wasn’t the type to just let things go.

Her fingers hovered over the screen before she hastily typed back

[V]

Not home.

A few seconds later, another buzz.

[River W.]

Send me your coords.

Her pulse kicked up. She hesitated, staring at the words, her thumb tapping anxiously against the edge of the holo. If she sent them, he’d show. If she didn’t, he’d probably keep calling. Keep pushing. And the thought of him knocking on her apartment door, waiting outside for her, made her stomach twist even tighter.

Her holo buzzed again—an incoming call. She clenched her jaw before finally answering.

"Where are you?" River’s voice was firm, not quite demanding, but there was something heavy in his tone. Something unreadable.

V exhaled, rubbing her temple. "Jackie’s place."

A pause. Then, "Jackie’s place? Where’s that?"

V chewed her lip, debating. She could lie, brush him off again—but that would just make things worse. "Uh… Heywood."

Another sigh from River. "V, send me the exact location," before he hang up. 

She swallowed, fingers hovering over the screen again. Her instincts screamed to keep him at a distance, but another part of her—one she wasn’t ready to name—told her to stop running.

With a resigned breath, she flicked open her minimap, encrypting the coordinates before sending them over. The message confirmed sent, and all she could do now was wait.

Johnny snorted, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. "Well, ain't this a shitshow. You just rolled out the red carpet for the badge, V. Hope you’re ready for the interrogation—or worse, the concerned boyfriend routine."

Shit. 

Shit. 

V ran a hand through her hair, still feeling the dull buzz of last night’s excess lingering like a bad aftertaste. She turned to Jackie, who was staring at her over the rim of his coffee mug, finally starting to wake up.

"Alright, hermana, spill. What’s going on? You look like you just agreed to sell your soul."

V exhaled hard, rubbing at her temples. "River’s coming."

Jackie raised an eyebrow. "The cop? Thought you were dodgin’ him."

"Yeah, well... I kinda sent him a picture last night—y'know, the one where I kissed Tiny Mike on the cheek like a drunk idiot. And judging by the missed calls and texts he spammed me with after, he did not take it well. Now he's wanting to come over."" She gestured vaguely at her holo. "And like an idiot, I sent ‘em."

Jackie whistled low, eyes widening. "Wait—hold up. You sent him a picture of you kissing Tiny Mike? V, are you tryna get murdered or what?"

"No shit." She groaned, slumping back against the couch. "I don’t even know what the hell he wants. Maybe to chew me out. Maybe to make sure I’m still breathing. Maybe just to..." She shook her head. "I dunno. But he’s on his way."

Jackie took a slow sip of coffee, watching her. "And you’re nervous about that."

"What? No. Pfft. Nervous? Me?" She scoffed, then immediately winced at how defensive she sounded. "Okay, maybe a little."

Johnny chuckled."Oh, this is fuckin’ rich. V, the same V who double-crosses corpos and brawls with Maelstrom like it’s a goddamn hobby, actually sweatin’ over what a cop thinks? Didn’t know you had it in you."

V shot him a glare before suddenly standing. "I need air."

Jackie frowned. "V—"

She was already moving, feet unsteady as she made her way toward the kitchen. Mama Welles turned just in time to see her burst in, still slightly buzzed, still feeling last night’s drinks like a dull hum under her skin. The older woman’s sharp gaze softened just a bit.

"Mija? What is it?"

V opened her mouth, then hesitated. She wasn’t sure why she had come here, only that she needed something—advice, reassurance, someone to tell her she hadn’t royally fucked up. She leaned against the counter, exhaling hard.

"I got a guy coming. And... I don’t know what the hell I’m supposed to do."

Mama Welles studied her for a long moment, then poured another cup of coffee and placed it in front of her. "Sit."

V sat.

"This man... he means something to you, doesn’t he?"

V scoffed, picking at the edge of the table. "Means? Pfft. He’s a cop. A stubborn, good-hearted, pain-in-the-ass cop who doesn’t know when to let things go. And now he’s on his way here."

Mama Welles hummed thoughtfully. "And you’re afraid."

V frowned. "I’m not afraid of him."

"No? Then why do you look like a girl who just realized she’s in over her head?"

V opened her mouth to argue, but nothing came out. Because, damn it, maybe Mama Welles had a point. Maybe she was in over her head. Maybe the way River talked to her—looked at her—was getting under her skin more than she wanted to admit. And now, he was coming. Expecting something. And she had no clue what the hell to do about it.

Mama Welles placed a warm hand over V’s. "Listen to me, mija. Whatever it is you’re feeling—don’t run from it. Face it."

V let out a slow breath, staring down at her coffee. "Yeah. Easier said than done."

Outside, a distant engine rumbled closer. Her heart kicked up a notch, and she swore she could still feel the warmth of the tequila in her veins, making everything feel just a little unreal.

Johnny grinned. "Showtime."

V shot him a glare but couldn’t deny the way her stomach twisted as the low rumble of an engine grew closer, stopping just outside. She barely had time to process it before her holo buzzed again—River.

She swallowed hard, forcing herself to answer. "Yeah?"

"I’m here." His voice was steady, but she could hear something beneath it—controlled, measured, like he was trying to keep himself in check. "Coming in."

Before she could say anything, the call cut off, and a few seconds later, there was a firm knock at the door.

Jackie shot her a look, somewhere between amused and concerned. "You gonna keep him waitin’?"

V groaned, pushing herself up from the chair, rubbing a hand down her face. "Gimme a sec to regret my life choices."

Johnny snickered. "Too late for that, princess. Get moving."

She hesitated for half a second, then made her way to the door, pausing just before opening it. Taking a deep breath, she pulled it open, and there he was—River Ward, standing in the doorway, arms crossed, eyes sharp as they took her in.

He looked like he hadn’t slept—not a wink. Shadows sat heavy under his eyes, his jaw tight, like whatever was eating at him hadn’t let up since the moment she’d sent that picture. But despite the exhaustion, he was still standing tall, broad-shouldered and steady, the kind of presence that filled a room before he even stepped inside. And, goddamn, he was still handsome as ever. Even in the dim light of Jackie's place, he was impossible to ignore.

"You look like shit," he said, but there was no heat in it, just that quiet, assessing tone of his.

V smirked, leaning against the frame, trying to ignore the way her stomach twisted. "Thanks, detective. Real confidence booster."

River exhaled, shaking his head slightly. "You gonna let me in, or we doing this in the hallway?"

For a moment, she thought about telling him no. About shutting the door and pretending none of this was happening. But instead, she stepped aside, motioning him in.

As he walked past, she caught a whiff of something familiar—leather, soap, and that faint metallic tang of gun oil. It was grounding, in a weird way. Too real. Too close.

Jackie, still seated at the table, gave River a once-over, then shot V a questioning look. "Uh… we doin’ introductions, or we just gonna pretend we all know each other?"

River glanced at Jackie, then at V. "Guess not. River Ward, NCPD."

Jackie leaned back, crossing his arms. "Jackie Welles. The one pickin’ up the pieces when this one—" he jerked his chin at V "—decides to go off the rails."

River huffed a quiet laugh. "Sounds about right."

V sighed, rubbing the bridge of her nose. "Alright, now that you two are acquainted, let’s cut to the chase. River, you tracked me down. What now?"

River didn’t answer right away. His gaze flicked over her, taking in the dark circles under her eyes, the way she shifted her weight like she was ready to bolt at any second. His jaw tightened, and he let out a slow breath, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck. That goddamn picture had been burned into his brain the moment he saw it.

He’d been lying in bed, exhausted, waiting for sleep that never came. Then his holo lit up, and there it was—V, pressed up against Tiny Mike, lips on his cheek, his hand gripping her waist like it belonged there. Like she belonged there.

It had hit him like a gut punch. He’d stared at it too long, longer than he should’ve, while a hundred stupid thoughts ran through his head. Had she gone home with him? Had she laughed at River’s missed calls, tossed her holo aside while some other guy had his hands on her? Was she just screwing with him, or had he really been that naive to think he might’ve meant something to her?

Now, standing here, looking at her—hungover, exhausted, still beautiful in a way that made his damn chest ache—he wasn’t sure if he wanted to yell at her or kiss her. Maybe both.

River exhaled through his nose, arms still crossed, weight shifting slightly like he was debating his next move. Finally, he just went for it.

"What were you doing last night, V?" His voice was even, but there was an edge to it, something coiled tight beneath the surface. "Were you all over that guy, or was that just for the camera?"

V raised an eyebrow, lips curving into something halfway between amusement and exasperation. "Damn, River. Didn't take you for the jealous type."

His jaw ticked. "Answer the question."

She sighed dramatically, pushing off the doorframe and sauntering past him toward the kitchen. "Had a good time. Blew off some steam. Nobody died. That what you wanted to hear?"

River followed, his presence pressing at her back, but he didn’t reach for her, didn’t close the space. "That’s not an answer."

V snorted, still holding the lukewarm coffee Mama Welles had made for her. "I don’t owe you one."

River’s fingers flexed at his sides. "I know. But I’m asking anyway."

She took a sip, then set the mug down with a sharp click, turning to face him. "You wanna know what I was doing? Fine. I was drinking, fighting, racing, and making some bad decisions. Happy now?"

His eyes darkened. "Was he one of them?"

V blinked, caught off guard for half a second. Just long enough for River to see it.

Her knee-jerk reaction was to laugh it off, throw out some snide remark and move on. But something about the way he was looking at her made it harder to slip into old habits. He wasn’t just pissed. He was—fuck, he was worried.

She swallowed, forcing herself to meet his gaze. "No."

River’s shoulders eased, just slightly. "Then why send me that picture?"

V clicked her tongue, rubbing at the back of her neck. "Because I was drunk, and I do dumb shit when I’m drunk. And maybe—" She hesitated, the words catching in her throat before she pushed them out. "Maybe I wanted to see if you’d give a damn."

River’s brows furrowed, like he wasn’t sure if he’d heard her right. "You think I don’t?"

She let out a dry laugh, shaking her head. "I don’t know, River. You tell me. You spent all this time keeping things friendly, keeping your distance, saying I was playing games. Figured that's all."

Something in his expression shifted, and for a second, he looked—guilty. "I should’ve reached out. Sooner."

V studied him, arms folding over her chest. "Yeah. You should’ve."

A beat of silence. Then he sighed, running a hand down his face. "I’m sorry. For not calling. For making you think I didn’t—"

She held up a hand. "Don’t make this a thing, River. I’m not mad." She smirked, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. "Okay, maybe I was. But mostly, I was just…"

"Hurt?" he offered quietly.

V stiffened, then scoffed. "Look at you, detective. Solving cases left and right."

River shook his head, but there was the ghost of a smile at the corner of his lips. "You’re impossible."

"And yet, you keep showing up."

He studied her for a long moment, like he was weighing something. Then he just exhaled, shaking his head. "Yeah. Guess I do."

The tension was still there, a low hum beneath their words, but the sharp edges had softened. V nudged his arm as she passed by, heading for the living room. "You sticking around, or was this just a pop-in to make sure I wasn’t dead?"

River followed, that small smirk still lingering. "Depends. You planning on doing anything else I need to worry about?"

V flopped onto the couch, grinning up at him. "Guess you’ll just have to keep checking in."

River rolled his eyes but didn’t argue. Instead, he grabbed a chair and sat, shaking his head with something like reluctant amusement.

Jackie, who had been watching the entire thing with poorly concealed interest, finally snorted. "Well, shit. That was a ride. You two always this dramatic?"

V shot him a look. "Shut up, Jackie."

Jackie just laughed, raising his mug. "Whatever you say, hermana. Whatever you say."

Before V could respond, Mama Welles, who had been quietly observing from the kitchen, clapped her hands together sharply. "¡Ay, Dios mío, Jackie! Stop interrupting like a nosy old woman. Let them talk."

Jackie raised his hands in surrender, grinning. "Just callin’ it like I see it, Mamá."

Mama Welles shook her head before turning to River, her expression softening. "And you must be River. You a friend of my hija?"

River nodded, standing politely. "Yes, ma’am. River Ward, NCPD. It’s nice to finally meet you."

Mama Welles eyed him carefully, then nodded in approval. "A cop, huh? Well, at least someone’s keeping an eye on her. Have you eaten yet?"

River blinked, momentarily caught off guard. "Uh, no, ma’am. Just got here."

"Then sit," she ordered, already moving toward the stove. "I won’t have a guest in my house going hungry. Jackie, set the table. V, make yourself useful and pour the coffee."

V rolled her eyes but stood, nudging River as she passed. "You better do as she says, or she’ll take it personal."

River chuckled, shaking his head as he took a seat. "Noted."

Jackie muttered under his breath but started setting out plates, while Mama Welles busied herself preparing food. The tension from before had eased, replaced with something warmer. More familiar.

As she stirred a pot on the stove, Mama Welles spoke without looking at River. "You seem like a good man, River. Serious. Strong." She paused, giving the stew a thoughtful stir. "But I’ve seen strong men forget what really matters."

She turned then, meeting his gaze with quiet intensity. "So if you ever make something stupid again…" Her voice was light, almost casual, but the weight behind it was unmistakable. "Well, let’s just say, I know people."

Jackie choked on a laugh, barely covering it with a sip of coffee. V just smirked, shaking her head. "Mamá, come on."

River, to his credit, didn’t flinch. He met her gaze and gave a respectful nod. "Understood."

Mama Welles held his stare a moment longer, then nodded, satisfied. "Good. Now, eat. Before it gets cold."

***

V and Jackie strolled up to Misty’s Esoterica, the warm scent of incense curling in the air. The shop was just as cluttered as ever—crystals, tarot decks, old books stacked precariously on wooden shelves. The glow of neon signs reflected off the glass charms hanging from the ceiling, casting slow-moving shadows across the room.

Misty, ever the picture of calm, glanced up from behind the counter, offering a small, knowing smile. "Hey, V. Jackie said you were swinging by. How’s your energy today?"

Jackie chuckled, shifting from foot to foot. "She’s still got energy, alright. Probably enough to land herself in another mess."

V smirked. "Guilty as charged. How about you, Misty?"

Misty’s fingers idly traced the edges of a tarot card on the counter. "Same as always. The city hums, people rush, but the cards stay honest." She glanced at Jackie, her expression soft. "And you, señor romántico, ready for our date?"

Jackie straightened up, puffing his chest out slightly. "Damn right I am. Gonna show my girl a good time, treat her like a queen."

Misty chuckled, shaking her head. "Jackie, you don’t have to try so hard. Just being with you is enough."

Jackie scratched the back of his head, suddenly looking a little sheepish. "Yeah, but I wanna do this right, you know? Make it special."

V grinned, nudging his arm. "Just don’t trip over yourself trying to be Mr. Perfect. Misty already likes you, dumbass."

Jackie groaned. "Alright, alright, I get it. I’ll just sit here, be pretty, and let Misty work her magic before we head out. You good on your own, V?"

V shrugged. "I’ll live. Gotta go see Vik anyway."

Johnny materialized by the door, arms crossed. "Yeah, yeah, let’s not keep the doc waiting. Pretty sure he’s got a tab running just for you."

V waved off Jackie and Misty, stepping out of the shop and into the clinic next door.

V pushed open the door to Vik’s clinic, the familiar scent of antiseptic and old metal filling her lungs. The place was as cluttered as ever—scattered tools, half-assembled tech, and a stack of old boxing magazines that had probably been there since the last century. The doc himself was hunched over his workbench, adjusting a piece of cyberware with the careful precision of a man who had seen it all and still gave a damn.

Vik glanced up from his work, eyes narrowing slightly behind his tinted goggles. "You look like hell, V. What’d you do this time?"

V shrugged. "Same old. Fights, booze, bad decisions. Just here for a tune-up—and maybe some insight on my favorite piece of malfunctioning hardware."

Johnny smirked from where he leaned against the counter. "Yeah, Vik. What’s the good word? Think you can patch up the walking corpse?"

Vik exhaled sharply, shooting her a tired look. "You wanna translate that to something that makes sense? Or do I need to start billing you extra for the attitude?"

V rolled her eyes and hopped onto the chair. "The relic, Vik. Any new developments? ‘Cause I gotta tell ya, waking up every day wondering if today’s the day my brain melts ain’t exactly my idea of a good time."

Vik muttered something under his breath as he prepped his tools. "You know, kid, back in the day, people actually listened to their ripperdocs. Didn’t just waltz in here after another round of bad choices, expecting miracles."

"Yeah, well, you love me anyway," V shot back with a grin.

Vik just sighed, adjusting the scanner. "Yeah, yeah. Now sit still. Let’s see what we’re dealing with."

The monitor flickered to life, a mess of biometric readings, neurological activity—data that might as well be an obituary written in ones and zeroes. Vik’s jaw tightened as he studied the results.

"Still degrading. Slower than before, maybe, but not good. The relic is digging in deeper. More connections. Like it’s…settling in."

Johnny scoffed. "Told you. Squatter’s rights. Ain’t getting rid of me that easy."

Vik shot her a look, waiting. She cleared her throat. "So what, we just keep watching the countdown?"

Vik hesitated, rubbing a hand over his jaw. "Might be something. Some way to slow it further. But it’s a risk. And I know you—" he glanced at her pointedly "—ain’t exactly risk-averse."

V glanced at Johnny, who spread his hands in mock innocence. "Hell, what’s life without a little gamble?"

She sighed. "Alright, Vik. Lay it on me."

Vik shook his head, muttering, "You’re gonna be the death of me, kid." Then, more seriously, "Let’s get to work."

As Vik worked, his movements slowed slightly, like a thought had crept up on him. He adjusted a wire, his voice casual but weighted. "You ever ask yourself why I put up with your stubborn ass, V? Why I keep patching you up, even when I know you’ll just come back busted all over again?"

V arched a brow. "Figured you liked the challenge."

Vik huffed a quiet laugh, shaking his head. "Maybe. Or maybe… I owed someone. Someone who’d want me to look after you."

V tilted her head slightly at that, something about his tone digging into the back of her mind. It wasn’t just a casual remark—there was weight to it, something unspoken. Vik rarely brought up the past, and when he did, it was always in fragments, pieces of a story he didn’t seem eager to tell.

She studied his face, the way his fingers hesitated just slightly over his tools before moving again. "Owed someone, huh?" Her voice was light, teasing, but she was watching him now, searching for the crack in his usual no-nonsense demeanor.

Vik didn’t look up. "Yeah. Someone who mattered. Someone who’d be pissed if I didn’t do right by you."

V frowned slightly, but before she could push further, he shook his head and focused back on the scanner, like the moment had already passed. 

Johnny snorted, shifting his weight against the counter. "Well, ain't that a juicy little secret. Wonder what ol' Vik’s hiding, huh? Maybe he had a thing for your mom—hell, maybe he was your dad’s drinking buddy. Either way, doc’s got skeletons. You should start digging, V."

Vik finished up the scan, turning back to V with an expression she didn’t like—one that said he was debating how much truth to spill. "Look, kid. The relic's doing something different now. It ain't just burning through you—it’s adapting. Almost like it's… learning you."

V narrowed her eyes. "Learning me?"

Vik nodded slowly. "Your neural pathways, your instincts, maybe even your memories. Whatever Arasaka cooked up in this chip, it ain’t just a program. It’s… evolving."

Johnny shifted beside her, expression unreadable. "Great. So not only am I a squatter, I’m a parasite too."

V ran a hand down her face. "So what do we do?"

Vik hesitated. "I might know someone who could help. An old contact, back when I still ran with—" he cut himself off, shaking his head. "Someone who knows more about preem-grade biochips than I do. But it won’t be cheap. Or safe."

V leaned forward. "Who?"

Vik sighed, rubbing his temple. "Name’s Kersh. Used to be a corpo tech, worked on cyberware black projects before he dropped off the grid. If anyone knows how to mess with the relic, it’s him. But finding him? That’s another story."

V frowned. "What kind of black projects are we talking about?"

Vik hesitated, rubbing the back of his neck. "The kind that don’t officially exist. Cyberware that goes beyond just upgrades—experimental neural mapping, human consciousness replication, shit that even Arasaka wouldn’t admit to. Kersh had his hands in all of it, then one day, poof—gone. No records, no sightings. Just whispers."

Johnny scoffed, crossing his arms. "Oh great, so now we're chasing urban legends. What’s next, Vik? You gonna tell us the boogeyman’s real too?"

V crossed her arms, processing. "If he’s as deep underground as you’re saying, how do we even start looking?"

Vik exhaled, shaking his head. "There’s a fixer in Watson, calls himself R3n0. If anyone's got a lead, it’s him. But he won’t just hand it over—you’ll need to make it worth his while."

Johnny grinned, tapping the side of his head. "Corpo ghost hunt, shady fixers, and me along for the ride. Almost makes me feel bad for you. Almost."

V cracked her knuckles, that old familiar rush of adrenaline creeping in. "Guess it’s time to go hunting."

Chapter Text

V walked out of Vik’s clinic, mind still chewing on his words. The name Kersh, the idea of the relic evolving—it all left a bad taste in her mouth. Johnny strolled beside her, hands in his pockets, watching her with that same knowing smirk.

"So, where to next?" Johnny asked. "Gonna chase down this R3n0 guy or just sit around waiting for your brain to short out?"

V sighed, pulling out her holo. She flicked through a few messages before settling on one. "Gotta start somewhere. Let’s see if this fixer’s got something useful."

Johnny smirked, rolling his shoulders. "That’s the spirit. Nothing like a wild goose chase with a side of impending doom."

The ride to Watson was quiet, save for the occasional hum of the engine and the distant wail of sirens in the night. The city never slept, and neither did its problems. V pulled up outside a dingy bar sandwiched between two shuttered arcades, neon lights flickering like a dying heartbeat. This was R3n0’s haunt—a fixer who thrived in the spaces between deals, always with one hand in something dirty and the other counting eddies.

V stepped out of the car, adjusting her jacket. Johnny materialized beside her, scanning the bar’s entrance. "Place screams bad decisions. My kinda joint."

She smirked, pushing open the door. The inside was just as expected—dim lighting, a haze of cheap smoke, and a clientele that looked like they had more debts than brain cells. A few pairs of eyes flicked her way before returning to their drinks.

R3n0 sat in the back, perched on a weathered booth, fingers tapping away on a worn-out cyberdeck. Short, stocky, with optics that glowed faint red. He looked up as she approached, already grinning like he knew something she didn’t.

"V. Didn’t think I’d be seeing you so soon," R3n0 drawled, setting his deck aside. "Heard you’ve been making waves."

V slid into the booth across from him, resting an arm on the table. "Yeah? Hope it’s the good kind."

"Depends who you ask," R3n0 said, leaning back. "But I ain’t one for gossip. So, what’s a girl like you doing sniffing around my turf?"

Johnny leaned against the wall beside her, arms crossed. "Bet he already knows. Fixers don’t like surprises."

V didn’t flinch. "Looking for someone. Kersh. Ring any bells?"

R3n0’s smirk faltered, just for a second. A small tell, but she caught it.

"Now there’s a name I ain’t heard in a while," he said slowly. "And one I’d rather keep that way. What’s your interest?"

V drummed her fingers on the table. "Just a friendly chat. Nothing too crazy."

R3n0 exhaled through his nose, rubbing at his temple. "See, the problem with names like Kersh is they tend to bring heat. Real nasty kind. You sure you wanna stir that pot?"

V locked eyes with R3n0. "I’m already in too deep to back out now. So, you got something for me or not?"

R3n0 studied her for a long moment, then shook his head with a chuckle. "Alright, V. You wanna play in the dark? Fine. But you best be ready for what’s waiting." He leaned in, lowering his voice. "Word is, Kersh ain’t just off the grid—he’s running from something. Something even the corpos don’t wanna touch. Last I heard, he was ghosting around the old docks near Northside. But if you go poking around, expect company. The kind that shoots first."

V smirked. "Wouldn’t be fun otherwise."

R3n0 slid a data shard across the table. "Consider this a favor. You survive? Maybe you owe me one."

V took the shard, slipping it into her jacket. "Appreciate the tip."

The docks in Northside were a different kind of dead at night—abandoned shipping crates stacked like tombstones, the distant hum of automated machinery echoing over water slick with oil. A few old floodlights buzzed intermittently, barely holding back the dark. V parked a block away, preferring to go in quiet.

Johnny appeared beside her as she crouched near a rusted fence, scanning the area. "Oh yeah, real welcoming. Smells like a setup."

V smirked. "Everything’s a setup. Question is, who’s setting who up?"

She moved in low, boots silent on damp concrete. A few steps in, she caught the glint of movement near a cluster of containers. Two guards, kitted out in high-end merc gear, their rifles resting easy but ready. Not your average dock squatters.

"Mercs?" Johnny mused. "Somebody’s paying good money to keep people out. Or keep someone in."

V exhaled, fingers brushing the grip of her pistol. "Guess we find out which." 

She moved around the perimeter, keeping low. Found a vantage point on top of a stack of crates. Below, a small warehouse, lights still on. The guards patrolled around it, scanning the shadows with military precision. V narrowed her eyes. Something about this felt too clean, too controlled. Like it had been left this way on purpose.

Johnny materialized beside her, arms crossed. "Got a feeling we’re about to be real disappointed."

V dropped down, keeping to the edges of the light. Slipped inside the warehouse through a side entrance. The place was stripped bare—empty shelves, dust settling where something large had once been stored. But there was something else—a faint chemical scent still clinging to the air, the kind left behind by hastily wiped data terminals or bio-experiments gone wrong.

She crouched, running a hand over the dust-covered floor, tracing the shallow indentations left behind. Heavy equipment, recently moved. A few footprints near the back, but nothing fresh. Whatever had been here, whoever had been here, they’d cleared out fast.

She scowled. "Damn it."

Johnny let out a dry chuckle. "Called it. Whoever was here is long gone. You got played. Again. Starting to think we should start charging for these little scavenger hunts."

V tapped her holo, pulling up the data shard R3n0 had given her. Ran a scan. The location had been accessed days ago. There was an additional file—a single, corrupted message, barely salvageable. A few scattered words blinked on the screen: “Too late. Burn it all. No loose ends.”

Johnny leaned in, his expression darkening. "Well. That’s not ominous at all."

A noise outside—one of the guards speaking into his radio. V’s instincts flared. The air shifted, tension creeping in like a slow leak in a pressure valve.

She adjusted her grip on her pistol, taking one last scan of the room. A metallic case, small and nearly hidden beneath a fallen shelf, caught her eye. She moved quickly, flipping it open—a few shards, heavily encrypted, and a syringe filled with an opaque, silver fluid.

Before V could grab the shards, a muffled thump came from outside, followed by the unmistakable crunch of boots moving in fast.

"Shit," she muttered. "Time to go."

"Dead end and a firefight? Almost feels like home."

V exhaled sharply, gripping her pistol. "Yeah, well, let’s try not to make it our final resting place."

She stuffed the case into her jacket, bolted for the side door, and the night erupted in gunfire.

Bullets tore through the air as V slid behind a rusted cargo container, the impact of heavy rounds rattling the metal. A quick peek confirmed what she already knew—whoever these mercs were, they weren’t fucking around. Tactical formations, suppressed weapons, military-grade optics. Corpo-funded, no doubt.

"Knew this was a trap," Johnny muttered, crouching beside her. "But hey, at least they rolled out the red carpet."

V pulled her pistol, lining up a shot, squeezing off two rounds. One of the mercs staggered back, armor taking the hit, but it was enough to make them rethink their approach. She needed an out, fast.

A sharp buzz filled her ear—her holo vibrating. A message flashed across her optics: “MOVE. SOUTH EXIT. NOW.”

V frowned. "You seein’ this?"

Johnny tilted his head. "Yeah. Question is, who the hell wants you alive bad enough to help?"

No time to argue. She popped smoke from her belt, the thick cloud swallowing the alley in a dense fog. Using the cover, she sprinted towards the south exit, vaulting over debris. The mercs fired blindly into the mist, bullets ricocheting wildly.

The moment she cleared the alley, a motor roared to life. A blacked-out Quadra Type-66 Avenger, windows tinted, tires screeching as it pulled up beside her. The door swung open. Inside, a masked driver, voice modulated. "Get in."

V didn’t hesitate. She dove in, slamming the door behind her as the vehicle peeled off, gunfire chasing them into the night. Whoever these people were, one thing was clear—they were expecting her.

And they weren’t done yet.

The Quadra rocketed down the abandoned industrial roads, the hum of its reinforced engine barely audible over V’s own pulse hammering in her ears. The masked driver kept one hand on the wheel, the other flicking through a glowing interface on their cyberdeck. The heads-up display in the car’s windshield flashed encrypted text, routing them through backchannels and off-the-grid paths.

V exhaled, pressing her back against the seat. "Mind telling me who the hell you are?"

The driver didn’t turn their head. "You’re asking the wrong questions."

Johnny scoffed from beside her. "Oh, I like this one. Real dramatic."

V gritted her teeth. "Fine. Who sent you?"

The driver’s modulated voice crackled. "Someone who doesn’t want to see you flatlined. Yet."

The Quadra took a sharp turn, dipping into a tunnel beneath an overpass, finally slowing down as they reached an underground service lot. Rows of dim, flickering lights revealed an old maintenance station—long abandoned, except for the handful of heavily armed figures waiting near the entrance.

Johnny leaned forward, watching as the masked driver killed the engine. "Guess this is where we find out if we just got saved, or traded one problem for another."

V sighed. "Only one way to find out."

The car doors unlocked with a click. The figures outside stepped closer. No badges, no corporate insignias. But the way they moved, the gear they carried—these weren’t street thugs.

V pushed the door open and stepped out, resting her hand near her pistol. "Alright. Someone wanna tell me what the hell this is?"

One of the figures—a woman with sleek chrome arms and a half-burned Militech insignia still visible on her jacket—took a step forward, sizing V up before she spoke.

"Welcome to the other side of the board, V."

The woman with the chrome arms tilted her head. "You can drop the iron. If we wanted you dead, you’d already be flatlined."

V snorted but didn’t move her hand from her pistol. "Comforting. You got a name, or are we doing this whole shadowy benefactor routine?"

She stepped closer to V, scanning her like she was checking for fractures. "You’ve been digging in places you shouldn’t, V. Looking for ghosts."

V held her ground. "Not my fault the ghosts left a mess. I just want answers."

"Yeah?" The woman crossed her arms. "And what happens when you don’t like ‘em?"

V didn’t blink. "Guess we’ll find out."

A tense beat passed before the woman exhaled sharply and turned, motioning for V to follow. "Come on. Boss wants a word."

Johnny scoffed, shifting beside her. "Oh yeah, sure, let’s just stroll right into the unknown with a bunch of armed strangers. Nothing bad ever happens that way."

V ignored him and stepped forward. The underground service lot stretched into darkness, leading to a secured bunker entrance reinforced with old Militech plating. Inside, the air was stale with the scent of recycled oxygen and machine oil. Drones hovered along the ceiling, their optical sensors tracking movement. Workstations lined the walls, holo-screens flickering with encrypted data streams.

At the center of it all, a lone figure sat behind a reinforced desk, fingers steepled. The glow of cybernetic eyes cut through the dim lighting as they studied V with an intensity she didn’t like.

"You’ve got quite the habit of stepping on the wrong toes, V."

"Oh, sure. Keep it cryptic. Real original."

The figure chuckled, voice smooth but edged with something sharp. "Fine. You want answers? Let’s talk about Kersh. Let’s talk about why Arasaka wiped every trace of him off the grid. And let’s talk about why you, V, are now tangled up in the same mess that got him ghosted."

V folded her arms. "I’m listening."

The figure leaned forward. "Good. Because if you want to make it out of this alive, you’ll need to be."

The room buzzed with tension, data streams flashing, weapons idly checked by the mercs at the edges of the room. V had stepped into something deep. And for better or worse, she was about to find out just how far down the rabbit hole went.

The figure finally leaned back, their cybernetic eyes flickering slightly as they ran some silent command through their neural interface. A holo-projection bloomed to life above the desk, displaying a fractured data file—half-corrupted, missing pieces like a puzzle that had been deliberately burned before it could be completed. Kersh’s name pulsed in red, overlaid with an old Arasaka research division logo, barely visible beneath layers of encryption.

V studied it, jaw tightening. "This some kind of black project?"

The figure nodded. "Buried deep. Deep enough that not even Arasaka wants to dig it back up. Kersh wasn’t just another runaway corpo. He was working on something—something beyond standard cyberware, beyond the kind of neural implants you’ve got rattling around in your skull."

Johnny sighed, rubbing his temples like he had a headache—if that were even possible. "Oh, great. Another Saka horror show. This one got more brain-melting side effects, or just the usual existential nightmare package?"

The figure tap the holo to expand a grainy surveillance image. It was a blurred shot of Kersh, his face half-obscured by the collar of his coat. He looked older than V expected, worn but alert. He wasn’t running scared—he was planning something.

"Last confirmed sighting was two weeks ago. Pacifica, near the old Netwatch compound. He was looking for something, maybe trying to retrieve whatever data he left behind before Arasaka scrubbed him. But he wasn’t alone."

The holo shifted, showing another figure beside Kersh—a woman, her face turned away, but V recognized the build, the stance. The chrome arms.

V’s eyes snapped to the woman in front of her. "That you?"

The merc crossed her arms. "Does it matter?"

"Kinda does. You already knew I was on this trail, didn’t you? What’s your stake in all this?"

A slow smile curled the woman’s lips. "Let’s just say Kersh and I have unfinished business."

V exhaled through her nose, glancing at Johnny. He smirked but stayed quiet, watching like he was waiting for the other shoe to drop.

"So what now?" V asked. "You gonna keep feeding me breadcrumbs, or are we cutting to the chase?"

The figure at the desk smirked. "We’re going to Pacifica. We find Kersh before Arasaka does, or before he does something worse."

Johnny let out a sharp laugh, voice laced with mock excitement. "Pacifica? Oh yeah, real paradise. Between the scav gangs, trigger-happy voodoo boys, and abandoned netrunner death traps, it’s practically a vacation spot."

V sighed, rolling her shoulders. "Fine. But if this turns into another corpo clusterfuck, I’m charging double."

The merc woman chuckled. "Not your problem anymore."

V narrowed her eyes. "What’s that supposed to mean?"

The figure at the desk leaned back. "We’ll handle Kersh. You stirred the pot enough—now it’s our turn."

Johnny’s expression darkened. "Oh, that’s rich. They drag you all the way here, spill just enough intel to keep you hooked, and then tell you to sit pretty? That’s a load of shit"

"We’ll call you when it’s time," the woman. "Until then? Stay out of Pacifica."

V let out a slow breath, clenching her jaw. "Yeah? We’ll see how long that lasts."

The mercs stepped aside, the bunker doors sliding open behind her. Message received. She was done here—at least for now.

She turned on her heel and walked out without another word, Johnny flickering beside her. "They’re full of shit," he muttered. "And you know it."

V smirked. "Yeah. But now we wait."

Chapter Text

Detective River Ward sat at his desk in the NCPD precinct, the flickering overhead lights drilling into his already pounding skull. The station reeked of burnt coffee, cheap ozone from malfunctioning cyberware, and the sour tang of exhausted officers. Another late shift. Another pile of cases dumped onto his desk—none of them his. Not his department, not his problem.

He wasn’t even supposed to be here. He was on suspension, ordered to take a week off after his last case got too messy, too personal. But sitting at home, pretending not to care, wasn’t an option. So here he was, in a precinct that didn’t want him, staring at a case that wasn’t his.

It had landed on his desk by accident, a misfiled report meant for Missing Persons. River had been halfway through tossing it onto the right pile when something stopped him. A name. A location. Too familiar. A young boy—missing. Parents frantic. Last seen leaving school, never made it home. Another tragedy swallowed by a city that didn’t give a shit. But the details gnawed at him. The timestamps. The district. The pattern.

He pulled up old files. Different kids. Same age range. Same neighborhoods. Same MO. All of them cold cases, buried beneath a mountain of red tape and corruption.

River’s grip tightened around the file. He knew Night City was rotten, but this? This was something worse. Something deliberate. And it wasn’t even his case.

Then he saw it—Harris aka Peter Pan. A name flagged in an ongoing NCPD surveillance op. Undercover officers had been tracking him, linking him to a string of missing minors. The situation escalated when patrol units tried to pull him over in the Watson Industrial Zone.

Dashcam footage attached.

River hesitated, then pressed play. The grainy night vision feed flickered to life. Harris’ rusted, beat-up truck tore through the streets, sirens wailing behind it.

“Suspect refusing to pull over,” a voice crackled over the radio. “Requesting backup.”

The truck swerved violently, clipping a streetlight before screeching to a halt. The driver’s door burst open. Harris bolted.

“Suspect is fleeing on foot!”

Three sharp gunshots. Harris stumbled, then collapsed onto the pavement.

Then the passenger-side door swung open.

A body tumbled out. Small. Bound at the wrists and ankles. A boy.

Officers rushed forward, shouts overlapping, but the camera focused on the child’s lifeless form sprawled on the asphalt. His body was bare—except for a pair of worn-out sneakers.

River’s stomach dropped.

Randy’s shoes.

He ripped the shard from his terminal, breathing uneven. His mind raced. His gut twisted, cold and raw. He had no proof. No certainty. But he knew.

Shoving away from his desk, he grabbed his coat and stormed out of the precinct. His fingers scrolled through contacts before hitting call.

“Hey... I need your help. Can we meet?”

***

Pacifica Blvd and Market St in The Glen was a chaotic mess of rush-hour traffic. Commuters weaved through the streets, dodging each other while incandescent billboards screamed for attention, their neon promises clawing at the sky. The skeletal sprawl of a megastructure loomed overhead, amplifying the noise and pressing down on the city like a crushing weight, a silent reminder of just how small they all were beneath the corporate machine.

River sat in his truck, watching the endless flow of people through the windshield, feeling disconnected from them, from all of it. They moved with purpose, their worries mundane, their struggles pedestrian compared to the storm raging inside him. He clenched his jaw, the muscles twitching with tension, his nerves frayed to the breaking point. The low pressure in the air hinted at rain, but it wasn’t the weather that unsettled him—it was the suffocating weight of everything bearing down on him at once.

He exhaled sharply, his fingers curling around the silver feather charm that hung from his neck. A grounding habit, a silent plea for control he wasn’t sure he had anymore. His other hand clenched the wheel so tightly his synthetic tendons groaned under the strain, the reinforced metal threatening to buckle.

Two sharp knocks on the passenger window cut through the spiral of his thoughts like a blade.

River turned, his earring brushing against his neck, his tired eyes meeting hers through the glass. V stood there, platinum-white hair with black highlights, worn into a half updo, stray strands escaping to frame her sharp features. Her oversized bomber jacket hung open, swallowing her frame, the red baby tee beneath clinging to her form like a second skin. The black leather of her pants gleamed under the streetlights, hugging every curve with dangerous precision.

In her hands, she balanced two grease-stained paper bags, the sheer weight of the XXL burritos inside stretching the thin material. A coffee cup perched precariously on one, sloshing dangerously close to the rim with each subtle movement. In the other hand, an energy drink, condensation trailing down the aluminum like cold sweat.

She tilted her head, her lips curving into a small, knowing smirk, eyes silently asking him to open the door—her hands too full to do it herself. He hesitated a moment longer than he should have, then reached across and popped the lock.

As soon as she slid inside, her scent flooded the cab—fresh and sweet, with an intoxicating depth that was both inviting and dangerously alluring. It was comforting. And right now, that was exactly what he needed.

V set the bags down between them, balancing the coffee and energy drink on the dashboard before turning to him. Her sharp eyes scanned his face, reading him the way only someone who’d been through hell together could. The smirk she’d worn outside faded, replaced by something softer—concern, maybe, though she’d never say it outright.

"Alright, River," she said, stretching out his name like a question. "What the hell happened? You look like you crawled through a landfill and lost a fight on the way out."

River exhaled through his nose, dragging a hand through his hair. "It’s bad, V. Real bad."

She didn’t push, just cracked open the energy drink with a quiet hiss and took a sip, waiting. Letting him get there on his own.

He flexed his fingers against the wheel before speaking. "I came across something. A case. A pattern. Missing kids. At first, I thought it was just another fucked-up night in Night City, but this—" He shook his head. "It’s not random. Someone’s been hunting these kids, and the system’s been burying it."

V’s brows furrowed slightly, her fingers drumming against the can. "You’re sure?"

"Yeah. Harris—Peter Pan—he was the link. They pulled him over. He ran. They shot him. And then..." River’s throat tightened, the image burning behind his eyes. "A kid fell out of the truck. Bound. Barefoot. Wearing my nephew's shoes. Randy's shoes"

V’s expression hardened, her usual smirk fading as she listened.

"The detective on this case? He’s doing fuck-all. Just another name on a list, another kid who’s gonna get lost in the system if we don’t do something. And my sister—" He exhaled sharply, shaking his head. "We don’t talk. Never have, not really. So I don’t even know how long he’s been gone. How much time we have left."

River locked his gaze on the city outside, neon reflections bleeding across the windshield. "I need your help, V.”

V sighed, running a hand through her hair. Then, she reached into the bag, yanked out one of the burritos, and shoved it into his hands. "Eat. You look like you're about to pass out. Then we talk next steps."

The silence settled between them, thick and weighted. The only sound was the occasional rustle of paper as River unwrapped the burrito. He didn’t remember the last time he ate. Hours ago? A day? Longer? It didn’t matter. His stomach twisted in protest at first, but the moment the warm, savory bite hit his tongue, he realized just how empty he was. The exhaustion clawing at his bones dulled, just a little. Not much, but enough.

V leaned back, crossing her arms. "So what’s the play?"

River took in her bruised cheek and bandage arm. "I know I’m askin’ a lot. If you’re not up to it—"

"I’m here, aren’t I? Besides, he’s your nephew. Family. So what’s the next move?"

Her voice was steady, unreadable. Loyalty? Recklessness? Maybe both. He held her gaze for a second longer before looking away first.

"Harris took a bullet to the head. He’s alive, but he’s gone. Brain-fried. Only way we pull anything from him is through his dreams."

Three years might as well have been a lifetime. The weight of River's decision to sever ties with his family pressed down harder than ever.

"They keeping you off the case ‘cause it’s too personal?"

River swallowed, debating how much to say. "More like they locked me out completely. Gonaghal’s in charge—lazy-ass gonk. Had the case for a week and hasn’t done jack shit."

V glanced at him from beneath her hood, her expression unreadable. "What’s the plan?"

River took in her busted lip, the bandages wrapped tight around her arm. "I know I’m askin’ a lot. If you’re not up to it—"

"I’m here, aren’t I? Besides, he’s your nephew. Family. So what’s the next move?"

Her voice was steady, professional. Maybe too professional. He held her gaze for a second longer before looking away first.

"Harris took a bullet to the head. He’s alive, but he’s gone. Brain-fried. Only way we pull anything from him is through his dreams."

"Dreams?"

"Experimental tech. Originally for therapy—kids on the spectrum. Turns out it’s good for digging up evidence too. They record dreams, turn ‘em into BDs."

V’s expression darkened. "That why you asked about BD editing gear? You have access to these recordings?"

"Not yet." River cracked the truck door open, cold night air hitting like a slap. "They’re in a lab across the street."

V stepped out beside him, adjusting her collar. "And I’m guessing we don’t have an appointment?"

He smirked. "Not exactly. We go in together. Just… not through the front."

V arched a brow. "So we’re breaking in. Either I’m rubbing off on you, or you’ve always been like this."

They reached the crosswalk, blending into the late-night flow of pedestrians. The wind howled between buildings, biting through layers. People shuffled past, heads down, lost in their own worlds.

"We find another way in," River said, keeping his voice low. "Quick, clean. Should be empty—there’s an audit scheduled today."

V gave him a sidelong glance. "And you just happened to know that?"

"Did my homework."

She snorted, already stepping ahead. Always moving first. The lab was unmarked, a squat, forgettable building between the neon-stained chaos of Night City. They walked past the front entrance without hesitation, slipping into the alley behind it. The air was thick with the stench of old trash and coolant runoff. V tested the first door they found.

"Utility entrance," she murmured through the comms. "Basic keypad lock. Give me a sec."

River shifted his weight, eyes scanning the street. The city never truly slept, but in the shadows between buildings, it felt like it might.

A soft click.

The door eased open.

V shot him a smirk over her shoulder. "Told you to stop underestimating me."

River huffed but followed her inside.

The lab was cold, sterile. A maze of white-walled corridors, the low hum of servers vibrating beneath the floors. Most rooms were storage—chemical analysis, genetic logs, crime scene evidence. Nothing they needed. Until they found it.

A room set apart from the rest.

River stepped inside and froze.

A child’s space. Shelves lined with books, toys stacked neatly, learning gadgets scattered across a small desk. Too personal. Too lived-in.

"They keep kids here?" V muttered, voice laced with disgust. "This place is fucked."

She turned to a row of filing cabinets, eyes scanning labels. "Name? Harris, right?"

"Anthony Harris."

“Got it." She slid open a drawer and pulled out a thick file. "What’re you gonna do with this BD?"

"Hopin’ it’ll have some content, showin’ where he’s takin’ the victims. Need to find someone with an editor. That’s the next step. You know anyone?"

"Yeah, I can take care of that for you."

"Really? You?"

"Sure. Can’t make anythin’ pretty out of ‘em but use BDs a lot for biz."

Is there anything she can’t do?

s there anything she can’t do?

They were knee-deep in records when a sharp voice cut through the silence.

"River?!"

River tensed. Turned.

"Yawen."

She stood in the doorway, arms crossed, expression sharp as ever. Time hadn’t changed her much—except for the shorter haircut.

"What are you doing here?! You got kicked off the force!"

"Just suspended, actually," he muttered, mostly to V.

V’s eyes flicked between them, quick, calculating. "That true?"

"He hasn’t told you?" Yawen asked, her gaze lingering on V, her lips pressing into a tight line.

V tilted her head, a knowing smile playing at the corner of her lips. "We talk business. And right now, the business is a missing kid."

Yawen’s fingers toyed with the cuff of River’s sleeve, subtle, almost absentminded. "Still getting yourself into trouble, huh? Some things never change."

River stiffened, shifting uncomfortably under V’s gaze. He felt the weight of her eyes on him, analyzing, assessing. Shit. Did she think—

"You gonna help or not?" His voice was rougher than he intended.

Yawen tilted her head, voice dipping low. "Maybe we can work something out… like old times."

V cleared her throat, stepping forward, the sharp click of her boots cutting through the tension. "Yeah, tempting, but let’s skip the nostalgia."

Yawen’s smile faltered.

River exhaled sharply. "Harris' dream BD, where is it?"

"He isn't dreamin'. Bullet fried his cerebral cortex. We only get dissonant urges. Pieces. So, looks like dead end. That’s gotta sting."

She stepped closer still, reaching up as if to adjust the lapel of his coat. The scent of her perfume wrapped around him, familiar and intentional.

River grabbed her wrist, lowering it before she could do more. "Not interested, Yawen."

Yawen chuckled, but there was something sharper behind it. "What, because of her?"

River’s jaw tensed. "Because it’s got nothing to do with this."

She leaned in, lips brushing his cheek, light but deliberate. When she pulled back, a faint smudge of lipstick remained.

"Careful, River," she murmured. "You always did like a challenge."

River stumbled back, eyes dark. "I told you—this isn’t a game."

He turned on his heel, stalking out the door. His voice was tight as he pressed his comms. "V, we’re done here. Let’s go."

She didn’t ask questions, just fell into step beside him. Silent. Calculating. The walk back to the truck felt heavier than before. He yanked open the driver’s side door and exhaled hard, gripping the wheel like it might ground him.

V slid in next to him, watching. Always watching. Her eyes flicked over him, sharp as ever—then caught on something small, but undeniable. The corner of his mouth—just barely, but it was there. Yawen’s shade.

Did she kiss him in that room? The thought tightened something low in her stomach. Old flames rekindled under fluorescent lights, hushed words exchanged in shadows. Had he let her? Did she press close, lips ghosting over his like they were slipping back into something familiar?

River shifted in his seat, jaw tightening. He hadn’t wiped it away. Didn’t even seem to notice. Or maybe he did, and just didn’t care.

V exhaled slow, forcing herself to look away. Didn’t matter. Shouldn’t matter. But the weight in her chest told her otherwise.

“Okay. Lemme hear it…” he said.

“Lost your badge, didn’t tell me about it – why?”

“I… don’t know,” he said quietly.

“Makes you a bit of a leadhead, doesn’t it?”

He looked at her and sighed. “That it do. And no, before you ask, its not about the Rhyne's case. Haven file that to the IA yet. This is just some small issue with some officer, got told to take a few days break.” He paused, took a deep breath. “It’s just, uh… It’s not easy for me to talk about what biting at my ass.”

V studied him in the dim light, noticing the tension in his jaw, the way his fingers drummed absently against the wheel—small signs of frustration he probably didn’t even realize he was showing. She tried to remember the last time she had been vulnerable with anyone.

“Fair enough,” she said simply, shifting her gaze back out the window.

She should’ve left it at that. But something about the way Yawen had touched him back there—it gnawed at her. She knew it was stupid. Knew it wasn’t her business. But the thought of them, of something lingering between them, made her stomach twist.

“Not worried Yawen’s gonna toe the line, rat you out to her superiors?” she asked, keeping her voice neutral.

“Doubt she’d do that,” he said simply. “Plus… not that I’d use it, but I do know one skeleton she’d prefer remain tucked in her closet.”

V hummed, filing that away. “And you think Yawen will actually help us, all things considered?”

“Yeah. These tiffs of ours always end up the same way,” he said, glancing at her. V felt a sudden flash of something she didn’t want to name.

“I’ll tell ya about it over a beer sometime,” he added, as if sensing her discomfort. She tried to read his expression, but he had turned back to the road.

“Sign me up,” she muttered after a moment. “We find Randy, then we find the bottoms of a few bottles.”

“It’ll be my pleasure,” he said, flashing her a faint smile—gone so fast she wondered if she had imagined it.

“Could tell me where we’re headed, though.”

“To Joss’s. Randy’s mom.”

“Your sister?” V asked, an eyebrow raised. He nodded.

“She thinks he just ran away from home. For now, keep the kidnapping between us.” 

"Aight."

Before she could think, her thumb grazed the spot. River flinched, eyes darting to her before he hastily wiped at his mouth with the back of his hand, clearing his throat.

“Uh—thanks.”

She leaned back, forcing a casual shrug. “Didn’t know Yawen was the type to leave a mark.”

River blinked, momentarily taken aback, before wiping at his mouth again, as if double-checking. “Wasn’t—” he exhaled sharply. “—Wasn’t like that.”

V let the silence stretch, watching the city blur past. “Didn’t say it was.”

She shrugged, looking away. “Didn’t want you walkin’ into your sister’s place like that.”

River sighed, rubbing his temple. “Look, I get how it looks, but it’s nothing.”

V’s expression didn’t shift. “Didn’t ask for an explanation, Ward.” 

The way she said his name made something in his chest tighten. He gritted his teeth, inhaling slowly through his nose. “Fine.”

River’s sister’s place was in a trailer park just out of the city. V had driven past a couple of times on the way out to the Aldecaldos’ camp but never stopped—no jobs in the area. Meant it must be a pretty nice place.

“All right, this is it. Sure been a while. Used to come over every weekend… long time ago.”

“Ain’t changed at all since?”

“Places like this never change,” he said.

Johnny was sitting on the front steps, arms folded, the usual shit-eating grin in place.

“Lovely neighborhood. Mwah!”

V ignored him, but her thoughts kept circling back to Yawen. To the way River had looked at her, the familiarity between them. The kiss.

It shouldn’t bother her. It didn’t.

Except it did.

River explained the situation to Joss. V was humbled he let her be there for it. Decided she could trust him—guess he felt the same about her. Didn’t feel like there were any lies between them now… ya know, except for her having a guy living in her head.

It was difficult for River to break the news. Probably harder for Joss—not just ‘cause of seeing him after so long but because of what it meant when your kid’s missing and a cop comes to visit. She didn’t let him have it easy.

Joss let them look at Randy’s trailer.

V must’ve looked a little stunned as River walked past her on the way out.

“What’s on your mind?” he asked.

“Think all the women in your life have… character.”

River’s niece and nephew intercepted them on the way to Randy’s.

“Monique, Dorian. Hey, guys.”

“Is this your girlfriend?” Monique asked.

Damn, Monique. Johnny didn’t need any more ammo.

River blinked, momentarily taken aback, as if the question had thrown him off balance. His mouth opened slightly before he snapped it shut, like he was sifting through the right words.

“Just a friend,” River said, his voice even, but a half-second too late.

River sent the kids inside for dinner, like Joss asked.

They searched the trailer. Found a premium laptop—too expensive for Randy. River leaned over her as she worked, the fur collar of his jacket brushing against her bare shoulder, sending an involuntary shiver down her spine.

“Expensive tech, Randy had the scratch for this?” she muttered, voice tight.

River scoffed. “You’re joking.”

The proximity was… distracting. Too distracting. The warmth of him. The scent of his leather jacket, the faintest trace of aftershave. His cybernetic hand on the back of her chair as he leaned in to read the screen.

Her pulse ticked up. She forced herself to focus. Didn’t dare look at him. Because if she did—

Focus, V.

She cracked the laptop, uncovering Randy’s messages with Harris. Disturbing. A cartoon of a cow being pumped full of god-knows-what looped endlessly.

River’s hand tightened on her shoulder.

They had what they needed.

Dinner with Joss was tense. River barely ate. Joss smoked, stared V down, and asked, “Will you find my boy?”

V’s stomach twisted. What the fuck was she supposed to say?

“River’s a helluva investigator. Randy’s good as found.”

Joss didn’t look convinced. Maybe she just didn’t wanna hope.

Joss let V take Randy’s trailer for the night. River asked her to stay. Didn’t even have to think about it.

“’Course I’ll stay.”

He smiled.

Later, V lay in Randy’s bed, staring at the ceiling. Couldn’t sleep. Not just ‘cause of the weirdness of it.

Conflicted feelings about River. She was definitely… physically attracted. Even when he was killing himself over this crisis, she still found herself drawn to him. Before, wouldn’t even consider it. Can’t date a badge. Wouldn’t even fuck a badge. But… what if he wasn’t a badge anymore?

No, stop.

Johnny, of course, was lounging in the desk chair, watching her.

“Finished talkin’ to yourself now?”

She rolled over, groaned. “Sure. Now if you’re not gonna spoon me to sleep, why don’t you fuck off?”

He chuckled. “Suit yourself. But don’t kid yourself, V. You wanna be where Yawen was.”

She flipped him off. He just smirked.

A soft knock at the trailer door pulled her from her thoughts. She tensed, listening. Then—

"V? You awake?"

River’s voice. Quiet, uncertain.

She hesitated before sitting up. "Yeah."

A pause. Then a low exhale. "Just… checkin’."

V stared at the door, heart hammering in her chest, fingers gripping the blanket. The air between them, even with the door in the way, felt charged—like something unsaid hung in the space between them.

Another pause. Then the door creaked open.

River stepped inside, two bottles of beer in his hands. He hesitated for a moment, gaze flicking to her, then held one out. "Figured you might want some company."

V took in the sight of him—his broad frame filling the doorway, the dim glow from the outside lights casting shadows over his face. He was only wearing his tank top, the fabric stretched taut over his chest and shoulders, his arms bare save for the cybernetics at his forearm, veins catching the light. He looked… tired. But there was something else in his eyes, something searching. Her pulse ticked up, but she kept her expression neutral.

She sat up fully, nodding. "Yeah. Guess I could use a drink."

River handed her a bottle before settling into the chair by the desk, his cybernetic fingers tapping against the glass. The air between them felt heavier now, filled with something unspoken, something dangerously close to slipping past the edge of casual.

He exhaled, leaning back slightly. "You really think there’s something between me and Yawen?"

V scoffed, taking a swig of her beer. "Ain’t my business."

River let out a dry chuckle, shaking his head. "Right. ‘Course it ain’t." He leaned forward, elbows on his knees. "But you keep lookin’ at me like it is."

She set her bottle down with a little too much force. "Maybe I just don’t like watchin’ people make dumb choices."

River huffed a dry laugh, shaking his head, but there was something else there—something pleased, like he was enjoying this. "Yeah? Like sendin’ me a picture of you kissin’ Tiny Mike on the cheek? That kinda dumb choice?"

Her fingers tensed around the glass, but she kept her expression even. "Was just a joke."

"Right. Funny as hell." He leaned in slightly, voice dipping. "You mad ‘cause you think I got somethin’ with Yawen? Well...we did, but it was years ago."

She traced her thumb along the label, jaw tight. "Funny, don’t recall askin’ for your relationship history."

"No? ‘Cause sure seems like you’re mad about somethin’." His voice dipped, teasing. "Jealous, maybe? Like a girlfriend?"

Her pulse jumped, heat curling in her stomach. She scoffed, hoping it masked the way her breath caught in her throat. "You wish, Ward."

River grinned, slow and knowing, and damn if he didn’t look like he was enjoying every second of this. "Never said I didn’t."

She clenched her jaw, looking away. Damn him. The way he said that—low, amused, but with an edge that made something tighten inside her—made her want to throw the beer bottle at his head just to stop whatever the fuck this feeling was.

"You always this dense, Ward?"

He sighed, rubbing his temple. "You really think I'd be here right now if there was somethin’ between me and her?"

Her fingers tightened around the glass. "Didn’t say that."

"You didn’t have to."

The silence stretched. River’s gaze flickered to her mouth, lingering just a moment too long before he took another slow sip of his beer. His throat bobbed as he swallowed, and V hated that her eyes followed the motion. Hated the way her skin burned under his gaze, the way her stomach twisted when his eyes darkened just slightly, like he caught her looking. Like he fucking liked it. And from the way his smirk deepened—slow, deliberate—she was pretty damn sure he did.

The air inside the trailer felt warmer now, thick with something unsaid. V took another sip of her beer, fingers tightening around the glass when she felt River’s eyes on her again. His gaze flickered over her, lingering, but not in a way that felt careless. Measured. Intentional.

"You always get this worked up over nothin’?" he asked, voice low, almost amused.

V shot him a glare. "You always go around lettin’ people kiss you just for the fuck of it?"

River exhaled sharply, shaking his head. "Wasn't like that. And you know it."

"Do I?" Her voice was sharp, cutting, but underneath it—something else. Something she didn’t want to name.

His eyes softened, searching hers. "V… I don’t want Yawen."

Her breath hitched. Just for a second.

Her pulse roared in her ears. He wasn’t just trying to convince her—he was baring something raw, something he had no words for yet. His jaw was tight, his grip firm around the bottle, like he was holding himself back. But his eyes—those damn eyes—held her captive. Searching. Wanting.

Her breath felt shallow. She opened her mouth, then closed it. Looked away, but not before she saw it—the flicker of something else in his expression. The ghost of something deeper. The quiet plea in his gaze that made her stomach twist, made her fingers clench against the bottle in her hands.

Johnny’s voice slid into her thoughts, smug as ever. "Oh yeah, he's got it bad. Just kiss him already, V. Or at least stop pretending you don’t wanna."

She ignored him. But she didn’t look away from River either. Because, fuck—maybe she did. She exhaled, slow and steady. The beer was bitter on her tongue, but the weight in River’s voice was heavier. She didn’t know what she expected when he showed up at her door—small talk, a distraction, maybe a reason to shove down the gnawing thing curling tight in her gut. But this?

This was him drawing a line in the sand.

And now it was up to her whether to cross it.

She leaned back against the mattress, stretching out, playing it casual even though her nerves were taut as a tripwire. “So what, you’re sayin’ you don’t want Yawen.” She tapped a finger against her bottle, watching him. “Fine. But that don’t mean you want me either.”

River went still. Just for a second. Then he set his beer down slow, like he was choosing his next words carefully.

“Don’t put words in my mouth, V.”

A scoff caught in her throat, but something in his eyes made it die there. His gaze never left her, quiet but unwavering. He wasn’t playing games. Wasn’t throwing empty words around.

Her fingers tightened around the neck of the bottle.

Johnny, ever the bastard, let out a low whistle. “Shit, V. He’s layin’ it out for you on a goddamn platter.” His voice dipped into something teasing. “Starting to think you’re just scared.”

She gritted her teeth. “Shut up.”

River blinked. “What?”

“Nothing.” She cleared her throat, pushing past it. “Just thinkin’.”

River studied her, brow furrowing like he wanted to ask—but didn’t. Instead, he leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees, gaze flicking to the half-empty beer in her hands.

“You ever get tired of runnin’, V?”

The question caught her off guard.

She frowned. “The hell’s that mean?”

River tilted his head slightly, watching her. “Means you’re always movin’. Always lookin’ for an out before somethin’ gets too real.” A dry chuckle left him, but there wasn’t any humor in it. “Not just with me.”

She bristled. “Yeah? And what about you?” She set her beer down, sitting up straighter. “You keep your hands clean, Ward?”

Something flickered across his face. A shadow of something deeper.

“No,” he admitted. “Not even close.”

Silence stretched between them, thick, heavy.

V could feel it now, the thing that had been building between them, simmering beneath every conversation, every glance that lasted a second too long. It was all teetering on the edge, waiting for one of them to push it over.

And fuck if she knew what she wanted.

Or maybe she did.

Maybe that’s what scared her.

She sucked in a breath, shoulders tensing. “I should get some sleep.”

River’s expression flickered, but he nodded. Pushed off the chair and grabbed his beer.

“Yeah. Right.” His voice was unreadable.

He turned for the door, hand hovering over the handle. And for a split second, V felt something lurch in her chest—something reckless, something desperate, something that made her want to grab his wrist before he could leave.

She didn’t.

Didn’t know if she regretted it or not.

River hesitated, half-turning back toward her.

“Night, V.”

And then he was gone.

The door clicked shut behind him, and she let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding.

She lay back against the mattress, arm flung over her eyes.

Johnny’s voice was a smug murmur in the dark.

“Y’know, you keep pushing him away like that, you might actually convince yourself you don’t want him.”

V didn’t answer.

Because she wasn’t sure if she could.

A sharp knock at the trailer door yanked V from sleep. She blinked blearily at the ceiling, mind sluggish, muscles slow to catch up. Another knock—louder this time.

“V. Open up.”

River’s voice. Low, urgent.

She swung her legs over the edge of the bed, rubbing at her face as she stumbled toward the door. The second she cracked it open, River pushed inside, moving with that focused, restless energy he got when something big was happening.

He held up a datashard. “Got a BD from Yawen. Harris’ memories. It’s got what we need.”

V exhaled, sleep already forgotten. “Then let’s not waste time.”

River watched from the computer as V dived into Harris’ memories. Even as a kid, the bastard had been obsessed with that disturbing cartoon. Abusive father, abusive teachers, bullied in school and at home. His old man convinced him he’d killed his own mother. That kind of shit warped a person. So afraid he’d do the same to his livestock that he over-supplemented them—ended up killing what he meant to protect. Somehow, that twisted logic carried over. Only now, it was boys with abusive fathers he’d been trying to "help." The BD blurred between past and present, between suffocating childhood fear and the horror of what Harris had become. A boy crawled toward safety, but Harris—limping, dragging a useless leg—still got to him first.

River’s grip tightened on the chair so hard the frame creaked. He was seconds away from snapping the damn thing in half. But every second counted, and he focused on V, watching her pull details from the BD with sharp precision. By the time she yanked off the headset, he already had notes scrawled across the desk, dates cross-referenced, addresses lined up.

“Edgewood Farm.” His voice was tight, controlled.

“You sure?” V asked, breath still coming fast from the BD dive.

River met her gaze. “Yeah.”

V nodded, shaking off the last of the BD’s hold on her. “Then what the hell are we waiting for?”

A rush of adrenaline cut through the weight in his chest. Before he could think twice, he grabbed her face in both hands and kissed her—brief but firm, lingering just enough to make sure she knew what it meant. “You’re the best, V,” he murmured against her lips before pulling back. He wanted to say more, but time wasn’t on their side. He grabbed his keys instead. “Let’s go.”

The drive was brutal. V rocked impatiently in the seat, gaze locked on the horizon, jaw tight. River pushed the truck hard, tires spitting gravel as they cut through the Badlands. GPS said an hour. He made it in just under half.

At the last turn, he barely slowed, only enough to bark out a warning. “Hold onto something.”

V braced just in time. The truck plowed through the front gate, metal crumpling like paper. River hit the brakes hard, stopping just short of a tree.

V was already moving, shoving the door open—then freezing.

“Jesus, River—STOP!”

He skidded to a halt, one foot already out. She grabbed his arm, fingers digging in tight. “Look.”

A faint blinking light. Not far. Too close.

A landmine.

River swallowed hard, scanning the yard. His stomach twisted. “Oh, fuck.”

Mines. Everywhere. Two feet apart, maybe less. Enough to keep anyone from leaving.

“Don’t—don’t move,” V hissed. Her eyes flicked across the minefield, hands flying over her scanner. But then she stiffened, a sharp inhale cutting through the tense silence. “Ohhh, fuck.”

“V?” River tried to keep his voice steady, but the look she shot him made his blood turn ice cold.

Her grip on his arm tightened. “He meant to keep them here. Forever.” Her voice was barely above a whisper. “There’s no way any of those boys could’ve gotten out.”

River clenched his jaw. “Yeah. I’m tryin’ real hard not to think about that.”

She kept working, breath shallow. “I can clear us a path. Enough to get to the barn. But disarming all of them? That’d take all damn day.”

“We don’t have all day.” River scanned the yard, muscles coiled. “There’s gotta be a security override somewhere.”

Inside, the house looked normal—if you ignored the shards scattered across the place. Not just recordings. Manuals. Psychological breakdowns. How to manipulate people. Exploit teens, those struggling with addictions, with depression. How to gain trust. Harris hadn’t just groomed kids. He’d studied for it.

V found a hidden door leading to a security room. The second she shut down the turrets, they bolted for the barn. Climbing to the roof was easy—dropping down through a broken window was the hard part.

Landing in the cattle pens was worse than any BD. The stench. The tools. The quiet, rhythmic beeping of machines meant to keep livestock alive.

Only it wasn’t cattle in those pens.

V gagged, gripping the railing. “Oh, fuck me…”

River clenched his fists. Didn’t let himself stop. He ran, checking every locked pen. “Dispatch, this is Ward—I need every Trauma Team AV you’ve got. Now.” His voice barely sounded like his own. He wasn’t sure it mattered.

V was already moving, yanking out cables, fingers flying over the control panel. “River! Over here!”

Randy. Unconscious. Alive, but barely.

“Just fucking get Trauma here NOW!” River snapped at Dispatch before shoving the phone away.

V was on her knees beside Randy, tilting his head, hands steady despite everything. “C’mon, kid,” she muttered, voice tight. She blew gently over his lips, trying to force a reflex. River hovered, watching every shallow rise of Randy’s chest like it might be the last.

Then—a hard, gasping breath.

River nearly collapsed, hands running down his face as he exhaled hard, shaking from the adrenaline.

V looked up, eyes glossy. “We did it, Riv. We got him.”

River swallowed. Nodded. He wanted to believe it.

Outside, the sun was rising. Trauma teams moved in, stabilizing Randy and the others. The NCPD’s netrunner disabled the last of the landmines. Sirens wailed in the distance, but for the first time in what felt like forever, River let himself breathe.

V sat against a concrete barrier, Trauma’s coffee steaming in her hands. He walked over, dropping onto the ground beside her.

“I can’t thank you enough, V.”

She took a sip. “You don’t need to.”

River watched the medics work, jaw tight. “I’m gonna kill him.” His voice was low. Dark. “Harris. Snap his fucking neck.” His hands curled into fists. “And I want him to suffer.”

V didn’t even hesitate. “I’ll help.”

River turned, meeting her eyes. Searching.

She held his gaze. “I can cut the cameras. If he’s got implants, I can make ‘em hurt.” A pause. “He’ll suffer.”

River exhaled slowly. "I need to do this, V. Alone."

She frowned. "River—"

He shook his head, gaze steady but firm. "No. This is on me. I appreciate it, really, but... it has to be my hands."

V studied him, jaw tight. She wanted to argue, to push back, but there was something in his eyes—something final. He'd already made up his mind.

After a beat, she sighed, leaning back against the concrete. "Just... be smart about it, yeah?"

River nodded. "Yeah."

For a long moment, he just stared at her. This woman—she had his back. Through everything.

And god help him, he wasn’t sure how much longer he could pretend he hadn’t already fallen for her.

He reached into his pocket, pulling out his truck’s keycard and pressing it into her palm. "Take my truck, V. Head back. I’ll handle things here."

She frowned, fingers curling around the keycard. "River—"

"No arguments," he cut in, voice firm but not unkind. "I need you to do this for me. Get home safe. I’ll catch up."

Chapter Text

V took River’s truck straight to Claire’s garage, weaving through early-morning traffic like her body was still running on adrenaline. The front end was mangled from the gate, metal crunched inward, and she could feel the way it pulled to the right. Every pothole sent a fresh jolt up her spine, but the pain barely registered—her mind was still back at that farm, with River, with Randy, with the bodies they had arrived just in time to save. The metallic tang of blood, the sterile hum of Trauma Team's equipment, River's voice low and rough with barely restrained fury—it all clung to her like a bad hangover.

She flexed her fingers on the wheel, rolling her shoulders back as if shaking it off would do a damn thing. It didn’t. But at least the drive gave her something to focus on, something other than the ghosts clawing at the edges of her thoughts.

Claire looked up from under the hood of another car as V pulled in, letting out a low whistle. “Shit, V. What the hell did you do to this thing?”

“Crashed it through a fence,” V muttered, swinging out of the driver’s seat. Her limbs felt heavier than they should. “It’s my friend's. Needs fixing.”

Claire wiped her hands on a rag, stepping closer to inspect the damage. “Yeah, no kidding. You wanna tell me why it looks like you drove through a war zone?”

V exhaled, rolling her shoulders, feeling the tight knots of exhaustion settling in deep. “Long night.”

Claire didn’t press. Just jerked her chin toward the shop. “I’ll take care of it.”

V nodded. “Thanks.”

Instead of walking away, she lingered. The familiar scent of motor oil and burning rubber grounded her more than she expected. She watched as Claire crouched by the bumper, fingers brushing over the deep dents. “Might be a while. I’ll have to swap out a few parts.”

V crossed her arms, nodding absently. “No rush.”

Claire arched a brow. “That ain’t like you.”

V’s jaw tensed. “It’s not my ride.”

That answer seemed to satisfy Claire enough, but the mechanic still eyed her like she saw more than V was letting on. Instead of pushing, she pulled a wrench from her belt and got to work, muttering something about how River owed her a drink after this.

V pulled out her holo, thumb hovering over her contact list before she finally tapped a familiar name. The line rang twice before Jackie’s voice rumbled through the speaker.

“V! You sound like shit, chica.”

She snorted. “Yeah, thanks. You busy?”

“Always got time for you. What’s up?”

V hesitated for half a second before exhaling. “Need a drink. Need to get the last twenty-four hours outta my head.”

Jackie didn’t miss a beat. “Afterlife?”

“Nah. El Coyote. Pick me up at Claire's” She needed something real tonight.

“On my way.”

She hung up, letting out a slow breath. Claire shot her a knowing look, one brow raised, but didn’t pry. Instead, she wiped her hands clean and got back to work, the rhythmic clanking of tools filling the garage. V let the sound wash over her, grounding herself in something tangible.

"Ping me when it’s done, yeah?" V said, nodding toward the truck.

Claire smirked, already half-buried under the hood. "Yeah, yeah. Just don’t take a month to pick it up."

V huffed. "Wouldn’t dream of it."

A few minutes later, the deep rumble of an Arch motorcycle cut through the noise. Jackie pulled up in his usual style, one boot hitting the ground as he swung the bike to a stop. He pulled off his helmet, grinning as he looked her over. “Damn, hermana. You look like you been through hell.”

V smirked tiredly. “Felt like it, too.”

Jackie’s expression sobered a little, catching the weight behind her words. “C’mon. Drinks first, talk later.” He patted the back of the bike. “Let’s go before I start gettin’ all sentimental on you.”

V didn’t argue. She climbed on behind him, the hum of the engine vibrating beneath her as Jackie pulled away from the garage. The cool night air hit her face, sharp and bracing, cutting through the haze of exhaustion that clung to her like a second skin.

The city blurred around them, neon signs flickering past in streaks of red and gold, the scent of fried food and burning rubber drifting in from the open streets. Jackie rode fast, weaving through traffic like it was second nature, and for a brief moment, V let herself sink into the rhythm of it—the steady roar of the Arch, the press of wind against her skin.

She closed her eyes for half a second, inhaling deep. Just until the weight in her chest felt a little lighter.

Jackie pulled into El Coyote Cojo, easing the bike to a stop outside the familiar bar. The neon glow of the sign overhead buzzed faintly, casting a warm amber hue across the pavement. The place wasn’t too crowded—not unusual for this time of night. A few regulars lingered outside, sharing cigarettes and halfhearted conversation, the smell of grilled meat and cheap beer thick in the air.

Jackie swung off the bike and stretched. “Man, I could use a damn drink. You?”

V slid off behind him, rolling her shoulders. “Like you wouldn’t believe.”

They pushed through the doors, the sound of low chatter and the occasional clink of glass filling the air. Mama Welles stood behind the bar, arms crossed as she laughed at something one of the old-timers said. Her sharp gaze flicked toward the entrance, softening when she spotted Jackie.

“Mi hijo!” she called, spreading her arms. “And V, too. You both look like you need something strong.”

Jackie grinned. “You always know, Mama.”

V smirked, sliding onto a stool. “Tequila. Whatever’s strongest.”

Mama Welles nodded knowingly, reaching for a bottle. “Rough night?”

V didn’t answer right away. Just drummed her fingers against the counter, eyes distant. Jackie answered for her. “Let’s just say we got a lot to drink about.”

Two shot glasses clinked against the bar, golden liquid sloshing as Mama Welles filled them generously. Jackie grabbed his and held it up. “To surviving another day.”

V huffed a quiet laugh and clinked her glass against his. “Salud.”

They knocked back the shots in one go, the burn spreading fast and warm in her chest. V exhaled, letting the alcohol do its work, numbing the edges just a little. Just enough to make it through the night without thinking too hard about River, about the farm, about the weight still sitting heavy in her ribs.

Jackie led the way to their usual booth, the one tucked in the corner, far from the entrance but close enough to the bar for easy refills. V slumped into the seat, stretching her legs out as Jackie slid in across from her, watching her closely.

"All right, hermana, spill it. What the hell happened?"

V let out a slow breath, rolling the empty shot glass between her fingers. "Long story."

Jackie smirked. "Good thing I ain’t goin’ nowhere."

She leaned back, running a hand through her hair before finally starting. She told him about Edgewood, about Randy, about Harris and the fucked-up nightmare they walked into. Every detail weighed heavier as it left her mouth, but Jackie just listened, expression unreadable. He didn’t interrupt, didn’t crack a joke like he usually would. Just let her talk.

When she was done, Jackie let out a low whistle, shaking his head. "Shit, V. That’s some heavy biz. No wonder you needed a drink."

She scoffed, lifting her glass as Pepe refilled it. "Yeah, well, doesn’t exactly get easier with tequila, but it helps."

Jackie leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table. "And River? He doin’ okay?"

V hesitated, staring down at her drink. "I dunno. He’s got a lot to process."

Jackie studied her, brow furrowing slightly. "And you?"

V let out a dry chuckle. "What about me?"

"I dunno. Just got a feelin’ there’s more to this."

She rolled her eyes, tipping back her drink. The burn was familiar now, a dull warmth in her stomach. "He kissed me. Brief. Quick. And that was that."

Jackie blinked, then grinned wide. "He kissed you? Damn, V, guess the badge has good taste."

She shook her head, smirking despite herself. "Don’t make it a thing. It wasn’t a thing."

Jackie chuckled, leaning back. "If you say so. But somethin’ tells me you ain’t done thinkin’ about it."

V exhaled, tipping her head back against the booth. He wasn’t wrong. But she wasn’t ready to unpack that just yet.

So instead, they drank.

One shot turned into three. Three turned into a bottle sitting half-empty between them. Pepe had long since stopped raising a brow at how much tequila they were putting away. Jackie was laughing, voice slurring just a bit, rambling about some gonks who tried to hustle him on a job last week. V found herself laughing too, a deep, reckless kind that only came when the weight of the world finally started slipping off her shoulders—if only for a night.

The bar blurred around them, neon lights too bright, laughter too loud, the world spinning just enough to remind her she was alive. Jackie clinked his glass against hers again, though she couldn’t remember what for. Didn’t matter. All that mattered was the burn, the haze, the brief escape.

At some point, Mama Welles slid a glass of water in front of them with a knowing look. "Enough, mis niños. You’ll thank me in the morning."

V groaned, dragging a hand down her face. "Nah, pretty sure I’ll just wanna die."

Jackie chuckled, shoving the water toward her. "Drink up, hermana. Don’t need you pukin’ on my bike."

Somehow, they made it back to V’s apartment. She wasn’t sure how—Jackie must’ve called Delamain, because there was no way either of them had the coordination to drive. The trip was a blur, the city lights streaking past in neon smears. By the time they stumbled through her door, she barely had the energy to kick off her boots before face-planting onto her bed.

Jackie groaned, collapsing onto her couch with a heavy thud. "Your couch is too damn small."

V smirked into her pillow. "Your ass is too damn big."

A deep chuckle rumbled from the couch, then silence. Heavy, comfortable silence. V let out a slow breath, eyes fluttering shut. The night had done its job—the farm, River, the weight of it all had been pushed to the back of her mind. Just for now. Just until morning came crashing in.

Within minutes, they were both out cold, the hum of Night City drifting through the window, wrapping around them like a lullaby.

The peace didn’t last long.

At six in the morning, V stirred, groaning as the first rays of daylight seeped through her blinds, stabbing at her eyes like knives. Her head throbbed, her mouth felt like sandpaper, and her stomach churned—not quite in the gonna puke way, but close enough to be a warning. The price of drowning memories in tequila.

A low grumble came from the couch. Jackie cracked one eye open, looking just as wrecked. He shifted, wincing as he stretched. “Shit. What time is it?”

V groaned, dragging herself upright. “Too fuckin’ early.”

Jackie swung his legs off the couch, rubbing his face. “Damn, I’m starving.”

V’s stomach growled in agreement. She snorted. “Guess we’re both payin’ for last night.”

Jackie smirked, standing up with a grunt. “C’mon, hermana. Let’s find some greasy food before we drop dead.”

V didn’t argue. Food first. Regrets later. 

She dragged herself off the bed, rubbing at her temples as Jackie groaned and stretched on the couch, looking like he'd been hit by a truck. "Think there's still some burritos in the fridge?" he muttered, voice hoarse.

V smirked, wobbling toward the kitchen. "Not unless you wanna risk food poisoning."

Jackie waved a dismissive hand. "Ain't the worst way to go."

V opened the fridge, staring at the sad collection of energy drinks and half-eaten takeout cartons. Nothing that wouldn't fight back. "Yeah, no. We're hitting Tom's Diner."

Jackie perked up. "Frybread and eggs? Shit, now you’re talkin’."

She tossed him his jacket. "Get your ass up, big guy. My treat—if you don’t pass out on the way there."

Jackie laughed, shaking off the last of his grogginess as they stumbled toward the door, both in desperate need of coffee and something deep-fried enough to kill the hangover before it killed them.

Just as V reached to the door, Johnny’s voice cut through the dull ache in her skull.

“Morning, sunshine. You are one crazy bitch, you know that?”

She halted, blinking against the sharp jab of daylight. It took her a second to register that she hadn’t seen or heard from him since they left the trailer park in Red Peaks, like he’d been struck dumb by the horror of Edgewood Farm.

“Where the hell did you go last night?” she muttered, rubbing at her temple.

Johnny grimaced, arms crossed as he leaned against the doorway of her mind like he was physically there. “Not my scene, V.”

She thought back on the long night hunting for Randy. It had played out like a horror movie she’d been forced to live through. Couldn’t blame Johnny for checking out. A vision of dark cattle stalls resurrected in her mind, the metallic stink of blood and rot curling in her gut. She swallowed the revulsion back down as quickly as it surfaced and exhaled.

Jackie nudged her. “You good, hermana?”

V shook it off and pushed open the door. "Yeah. Let’s eat."

***

Tom’s Diner wasn’t too packed this early in the morning. A few tired corpos nursed their coffees in silence, a couple of Night City’s regulars loitered in booths, scrolling their holo-feeds. The smell of grease and burnt toast hung thick in the air, mixing with the low hum of the neon menu board.

Jackie led the way to their usual booth near the window, dropping into the seat with a heavy groan. "Dios mío, I need coffee before my brain starts workin’ again."

V smirked, sliding into the seat across from him. "That ever happen?"

Jackie shot her a lazy grin. "Keep talkin’, hermana. We’ll see who’s the smart one after I’m done eatin’."

A tired-looking waitress strolled over, not even bothering to pull out a pad. "The usual?"

Jackie nodded. "Biggest damn breakfast plate you got. Extra bacon. And coffee. Lots of it."

V tapped the table. "Same. And throw in some hashbrowns."

The waitress grunted in approval and disappeared back toward the kitchen. Jackie slumped against the booth, rubbing at his temple. "You still thinkin’ about last night?"

V sighed, staring out the window. "Hard not to. Shit like that sticks."

Jackie didn’t argue. Just nodded, stretching an arm across the back of the booth. "And River? You gonna see him again?"

V hesitated, fingers tracing the edge of the table. "Dunno. Probably."

Jackie smirked. "Probably? Chica, guy kisses you and that’s all you got?"

V rolled her eyes. "It wasn’t a thing, Jackie. Just… in the moment."

Jackie chuckled, shaking his head. "Yeah, sure. Keep tellin’ yourself that."

Before she could snap back, the waitress returned, setting down two steaming mugs of coffee. V took hers gratefully, wrapping her fingers around the warm ceramic. The first sip was like a shot of life straight to the soul. Jackie let out an exaggerated sigh of relief after his first gulp. "Oh yeah. That’s the good shit."

For a little while, they sat in silence, sipping their coffee, waiting for the food to come. The city outside kept moving, the morning rush slowly picking up, but inside the diner, everything felt still—just for a moment.

V let herself enjoy it. Just a little.

Her holo buzzed against the table, the vibration cutting through the stillness. She glanced down, blinking at the name flashing on the screen—Judy.

[Judy]  

Hey, you up? Got some trouble. Tyger Claws are pushin’ in again. Could use a hand.

V sighed, running a hand through her hair. The peace never lasted long.

Jackie arched a brow. "Biz?"

"Judy," V muttered, swiping a thumb over the screen to reply.

[V] 

Gimme a bit. At Tom’s. What’s goin’ on?

A response came almost immediately.

[Judy]

Usual shit. Some gonks hasslin’ the girls. Fingers ain’t in it this time, but still bad news. Can you swing by the Clouds when you’re done?

V exhaled, rubbing her temple. "Looks like breakfast comes with a side of trouble."

Jackie smirked, tipping his coffee cup toward her. "Ain’t that always the case?"

V sighed, not in the mood for this conversation. "Jackie—"

"Nah, I’m serious, hermana. Every damn time she’s got a problem, who’s the first person she calls? Not the Mox. Not even Rogue. You." He shook his head, taking another sip of coffee. "She’s lucky you got a good heart, but don’t let her use it up. Ain’t sayin’ she don’t care about you, just sayin’ maybe she oughta start fightin’ her own battles instead of expectin’ you to do it for her every damn time."

V stared at her holo for a moment, thumb hovering over the screen. Jackie’s words stuck with her more than she wanted to admit. He wasn’t wrong—Judy always called when shit hit the fan, always expected her to drop everything and handle it. And she always did. Without thinking. Without question.

But today? Today, she was tired.

Her stomach churned, not just from the hangover but from the sheer exhaustion of it all—Edgewood, River, the nightmares that hadn’t faded yet. She needed a break. Just one day where she wasn’t throwing herself into the fire for someone else.

She sighed and typed out a response.

[V] 

Can’t today. Handle it. I’ll check in later.

She stared at the message for a second, then hit send before she could overthink it. Setting the holo down, she picked up her coffee again, taking a slow sip.

Jackie watched her, then gave an approving nod. "’Bout time, hermana."

Then he frowned, setting his mug down with a dull thud. "Man, that chick is one fucked-up piece of work. You ever think about how much you clean up her messes? Always liked your other friend better—Panam. That chica? Knows how to handle her own biz. Stands on her own two feet. Doesn’t call you every time shit goes sideways."

V smirked, arching a brow. "You sure that’s not just ‘cause she’s easy on the eyes? I could tell Misty on ya."

Jackie groaned, shaking his head. "Jesus, no. Ain’t about that. Just sayin’—if you gotta be ridin’ into a mess, at least make sure it’s for someone who’d do the same for you."

When they were done, Jackie stretched with a groan. "Damn. That hit the spot. What’s next, hermana?"

V wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, tossing a few eddies onto the table. "Figured I’d swing by Vik’s. Need some new chrome."

Jackie smirked. "Guess that means I’ll be keepin’ Misty company while you get poked and prodded."

"Like you weren’t gonna anyway," V teased, standing up and grabbing her jacket. Jackie only grinned, not even bothering to deny it.

They left Tom’s, stepping into the bright morning glare. The city was awake now, traffic humming, people moving with purpose. Jackie revved up his bike, waiting for V to climb on before taking off toward Little China.

By the time they reached Misty’s Esoterica, Jackie hopped off without hesitation, pushing open the shop door with a familiar ease. "Misty! Your man is here!"

Misty rolled her eyes, smirking as she glanced up from her tarot deck. "And here I was thinking I’d have some peace this morning."

Jackie chuckled. "C’mon, you love me."

V shook her head, amused, then made her way down to Vik’s clinic. The familiar scent of disinfectant and old leather hit her the second she stepped inside. Vik turned from his workbench, giving her his usual half-smirk.

"Kid. You look like shit."

V smirked. "Feels about right."

Vik gestured to the chair. "Hop in. What are we working with today?"

She settled in, arms resting on the worn leather. "Need a little tune-up. Maybe something extra if you got anything new."

As Vik prepped, his voice turned casual. "Heard things went south tracking Kersh. That true?"

V exhaled, head tilting back against the chair. "Yeah. South is an understatement. The whole damn thing was a shitshow."

Vik hummed, setting up his tools. "Figured. Had a couple fixers mention your name in hushed tones. Whatever happened, it’s got people talking."

V scoffed. "Great. Just what I need."

Vik chuckled. "Hey, at least that means you’re still breathing. Now hold still—this won’t hurt. Much."

V let out a dry chuckle, but her mind was elsewhere. Something Vik had said before nagged at her, a passing comment she hadn’t pressed on at the time. Now, sitting in his chair, the thought surfaced again.

"Hey, Vik," she said, glancing at him as he adjusted his tools. "That thing you said before… about owing someone. That maybe they’d want you to look after me."

Vik paused for a fraction of a second, just enough for her to notice. Then he went back to work. "Yeah?"

She hesitated. "Did you… know my parents?"

Vik didn’t look up right away. Instead, he focused on calibrating the scanner, his movements measured, deliberate. "That’s a long time ago, kid."

V frowned. "That’s not a no."

He sighed, adjusting a setting on his tool like it suddenly required all his attention. "Night City’s a small place in the ways that matter. People cross paths, deals get made, favors get called in. Sometimes, you end up keeping an eye on someone without them ever knowing."

V studied him, her gut telling her he was skirting around something. "That sounds like a yes."

Vik finally met her gaze, expression unreadable. "It sounds like me saying you’re better off focusing on the here and now. Some questions don’t come with answers that’ll do you any good."

She let the silence stretch, weighing whether to push. Her throat felt tight, the weight of unspoken things settling heavy in her chest. Finally, she exhaled. "Y'know… I miss them."

Vik’s hands stilled for the briefest moment before he resumed his work. He didn’t say anything, just let her talk.

"If you knew them, or if they were your friends…" V hesitated, then forced herself to push through it. "I appreciate you looking out for me."

Vik let out a slow breath, his expression unreadable. "You don’t owe me for that, kid."

"Didn’t say I did," she murmured. "Just sayin’ it matters."

A ghost of a smile tugged at Vik’s lips. "Yeah. Guess it does."

"Alright, fine," she muttered, leaning back. "Let’s just get this over with."

Vik nodded, relieved. "Good choice. Now hold still—this won’t hurt. Much."

V rolled her eyes. "You always say that, and it always hurts like a bitch."

Vik smirked as he powered up the scanner, the soft hum filling the clinic. "Yeah, yeah. You want chrome that won’t sting, go find a ripper who works out of a mall kiosk."

V chuckled, but the humor was short-lived as the first jolt of calibration sent a sharp pulse through her nervous system. She clenched her jaw, gripping the chair’s armrests. "Shit, Vik. You ever think about using a gentler touch?"

Vik huffed a laugh. "Tough love, kid. Builds character."

The scanner passed over her optic implant, data scrolling across his screen. "Your Kiroshi’s still in good shape, but I can tighten up the response time. Been noticing any lag?"

V blinked a few times, testing. "A little. Thought it was just my brain catching up."

"Could be, but let’s not take chances," Vik muttered, adjusting the settings. "Alright, what else? You said you wanted something extra. Got a few new toys if you’re interested."

V smirked. "Anything that makes me bulletproof?"

"Kid, if I had that, I’d be selling it to the highest bidder and retiring yesterday. But," he turned to grab a case from the nearby shelf, flipping it open, "I do have some reinforced subdermal plating—might not make you bulletproof, but it’ll keep you walking longer when shit goes south."

V eyed the sleek metallic implant, considering. "How’s it compare to my current setup?"

Vik scratched his chin. "Takes hits better. Less energy drain on your nervous system, so you won’t feel like you got slammed by a freight train every time you get shot. Plus, it won’t overheat under pressure."

V nodded. "Alright. Swap it in."

Vik grunted approvingly, already reaching for the installation tools. "Atta girl. Let’s get you patched up."

As he worked, his tone softened slightly. "You been taking care of yourself, V?"

V scoffed. "You did just say I look like shit."

"That wasn’t an answer."

She exhaled, letting her head tilt back against the chair. "Doin’ what I can, Vik."

He didn’t push, just kept working, but there was something in the way his hands moved—precise, careful, like he was making sure every part of her stayed in one piece, even when she was hellbent on tearing herself apart.

"Well," Vik muttered, adjusting the last connection, "just remember to drop by for a tune-up before you start fallin’ apart next time."

V smirked. "No promises."

Vik sighed but smiled anyway. "Didn’t think so. Alright, all done. How’s it feel?"

V flexed her fingers, rolling her shoulder. The new plating settled under her skin like it had always been there, smooth and seamless. "Feels solid."

Vik nodded, satisfied. "Good. Now get outta my chair and go do something reckless. I know you’re gonna anyway."

V grinned. "You know me too well, Vik."

He chuckled. "Yeah, kid. I do."

She made her way back up to Misty’s, where Jackie was still loitering by the counter, chatting away as Misty patiently listened, twirling one of her tarot cards between her fingers.

"Done already?" Jackie asked.

"Yeah, all patched up. But I’m heading home—think I’ve earned a couple hours of peace."

Jackie chuckled. "Damn right you have. Try not to get into trouble for once, huh?"

V smirked before turning to Misty. "Hey, I might need some company later. Thinking about doing some shopping. Girls only. Might ask Panam to come along."

Misty tilted her head, considering. "You, willingly shopping? Either you’re possessed, or you’ve finally realized the power of good accessories."

V chuckled. "Figured I could use a change of pace. You in?"

Misty leaned on the counter, idly shuffling her tarot deck, a knowing smile tugging at the corner of her lips. "Of course. Shopping’s a window into the soul, you know. What you pick says a lot about you."

V snorted. "Yeah? And what do busted boots and a bulletproof vest say?"

Misty hummed, drawing a card from the deck at random and glancing at it before slipping it back in. "That you’re overdue for a fresh start. Or at least a new pair of boots."

Jackie laughed, shaking his head. "See, this is why you two get along. One of you reads cards, the other reads bullet wounds."

Misty shot him an amused look before turning back to V. "Call me when you’re ready. And bring Panam—I'd love to meet the girl who drags you into the desert for fun."

V nodded, giving them both a lazy wave before stepping outside, the thought of sleep finally pulling her homeward.

She pulled out her holo and called up one of her rides, opting for something smooth and quiet—no more roaring engines today. A sleek Quadra pulled up to the curb. The drive home was a blur of neon lights and sluggish thoughts, the weight of exhaustion finally settling in.

The moment she stepped inside her apartment, she kicked off her boots, peeled off her jacket, and made a beeline for the shower. The hot water hit like a shock to the system, washing away the grime, sweat, and lingering weight of the last few days. She let herself stand there longer than necessary, steam curling around her, muscles finally relaxing.

Clean, wrapped in an old tank top and sweats, she tossed a can of kibble into Nibbles’ dish. The cat barely acknowledged her, stretching lazily before padding over to eat. V smirked. "Yeah, yeah. Nice to see you too, bud."

Feeling halfway human again, she dropped into the chair in front of her computer, scrolling absently through old messages, half-distracted by the faint hum of the city outside.

"Well, ain’t this cozy?" Johnny’s voice cut in, dripping with sarcasm. His flickering form lounged against the wall, arms crossed. "You keep playing house like this, you’re gonna forget what real trouble looks like."

V sighed, rubbing her temple. "Not now, Johnny."

"Oh, c’mon. You get all sentimental with Vik, plan a shopping trip with the girls, and now what? You gonna start baking cookies?"

V rolled her eyes. "Just taking a break, you relic."

Johnny scoffed. "Break’s over. Y’know who we haven’t seen in a while? Kerry. Guy’s probably drowning himself in booze and bad decisions. Might be a good time to go catch up."

V huffed a laugh. "You just miss Rogue."

Johnny grinned, his image flickering. "Like hell I do. But hey, could kill two birds with one stone."

V leaned back in her chair, exhaling. "Later. Right now, I need sleep. And maybe another shower."

Johnny snorted. "Right, ‘cause the city’s just gonna wait around for you to feel refreshed."

"City can wait."

He rolled his eyes but didn’t push it further. "Fine. But don’t keep the old crew waiting too long, princess."

V smirked, already halfway to her bed. "Yeah, yeah. Now shut up and let me sleep."

Johnny faded with a final scoff, leaving the room quiet again. V barely made it to the mattress before sleep finally took her.

***

V stretched as she rolled out of bed, groaning as the stiffness in her muscles reminded her of the past few days. The shower helped, but sleep had done most of the heavy lifting. For once, she didn’t wake up feeling like she’d been run over by a freight train. Small victories.

She rummaged through her closet, grabbing a pair of low-cut jeans that hugged just right, a cute tank top, and her usual jacket—stylish but practical. Not exactly Corpo chic, but she looked good, and that was enough.

Pulling out her holo, she flicked through her messages first, checking for anything urgent. Nothing from River. She wasn’t sure if that was a good or bad sign. He probably had his hands full, but still, a quick message wouldn’t hurt. Shaking the thought away, she scrolled further and found one from Claire.

[Claire] 

Truck’s done. Good as new. Stop by when you can.

V smirked. At least something was going smooth. She typed back a quick

[V]

On my way later. Thanks, Claire. 

Next, she tapped on Panam’s name. The line rang a few times before a familiar, half-suspicious voice answered.

“V? What’s up?”

V smirked. "Morning, sunshine. Feel like gettin’ into trouble today?"

There was a pause. "... Define trouble."

"Girls’ day out. Shopping, maybe some drinks after. Misty’s coming too."

A chuckle came through the line. "Shit, V. Thought you were calling me to help you bury a body."

V laughed. "Nah, not today. Just figured we could use a break that doesn’t involve gunfire."

Panam hummed, considering. "Alright, alright. Could be fun. Where we meetin’?"

"Misty’s shop in about an hour."

"Got it. See you there. And V?"

"Yeah?"

"You better not make me try on heels."

V grinned. "No promises."

Hanging up, she grabbed her boots, giving herself one last glance in the mirror.

"Damn. And here I thought we were meeting Panam, not seducing her."

V groaned as Johnny materialized in the reflection, arms crossed, looking far too entertained. "Don’t you have anything better to do?"

He grinned. "Nope. And if you’re gonna drag me through a shopping spree, least I get a show."

V rolled her eyes, ignoring him as she grabbed her gear.

Yeah. She looked good. Time to have some fun.

V stepped out onto the streets of Watson, the midday sun bouncing off the metal and glass of Night City’s ever-bustling skyline. The hum of traffic, the distant chatter of vendors, and the occasional siren in the background created the usual symphony of the city. She flagged down her ride, a sleek Rayfield Excalibur she 'borrowed' off some gonk who didn't need it anymore. It purred to life as she slid inside, setting the GPS to Misty’s shop.

Johnny appeared in the passenger seat, legs kicked up like he owned the place. "So what’s the game plan here, V? Spend a few hours playing dress-up, then go get shitfaced?"

She smirked, keeping her eyes on the road. "Something like that."

Johnny scoffed, shaking his head. "You know, back in my day, we didn’t waste time on crap like this. We raided Arasaka, burned shit down—y’know, made an impact."

V chuckled. "And look how well that turned out for you."

Johnny gave her a deadpan stare. "Touché."

It didn’t take long to reach Misty’s. She parked, hopped out, and spotted Panam leaning against her Nomad ride, arms crossed, looking like she’d rather be anywhere else. Her aviators shielded her eyes, but the smirk tugging at her lips gave her away.

"Took you long enough," Panam called out. "Thought I’d have to start shopping without you."

"You wouldn’t dare," V shot back with a grin.

Misty appeared from inside the shop, smiling warmly as she tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. "This is going to be fun," she said, her voice calm as ever. "I can already tell."

Panam groaned. "Yeah, yeah. Let’s just get this over with."

Johnny flickered into existence beside V, smirking. "Oh, this is gonna be good."

V kept her expression neutral, knowing full well she was the only one who could see or hear him. It was second nature now—ignoring his commentary in public, making sure no one caught her reacting to his bullshit.

"Not now, Johnny," she muttered under her breath, keeping her voice low enough that neither Misty nor Panam would notice.

"What? I’m just sayin’," he said, lazily circling her. "Between Miss Mystic Third Eye and the hottest Nomad this side of the Badlands, this little outing could actually be entertaining."

V resisted the urge to roll her eyes, instead focusing on Misty’s enthusiastic planning. "Alright, ladies, I know just the place to start. There's this boutique in Japantown—lots of variety, from streetwear to high fashion. Figured we could find something for everyone."

V nodded approvingly. "Sounds solid."

Panam, however, groaned, pushing off her car. "Just promise me I won’t have to try on anything with sequins."

V smirked. "No sequins. But I make no promises about leather."

Panam shot her a warning look, but the corner of her lips twitched upward. "You’re enjoying this way too much."

The three of them piled into V’s ride, Misty humming a soft tune in the backseat while Panam adjusted the seat like she was about to take over driving herself. V tapped the GPS, setting their course for Japantown when Johnny flickered into the passenger seat, stretching out like he belonged there.

"You know, V, I think I like this whole ‘girls' day out’ thing," Johnny mused, grinning. "Haven’t been surrounded by this much beauty since the Samurai tour days."

V exhaled through her nose, keeping her hands steady on the wheel. "Johnny, do me a favor and don’t make this weird."

"Alright, let’s focus, kids. Shopping first, drinks after."

"Now that’s a plan I can get behind," Panam muttered, stretching out in her seat as the city blurred past the windows.

Misty leaned forward. "Ooh, maybe we should stop by a fortune teller’s stall after? Japantown has some really good ones."

Panam snorted. "Let’s get through the shopping first before we start messing with fate, yeah?"

Misty chuckled, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. "You say that like fate isn’t already messing with us."

V smirked, shaking her head as she caught Johnny’s amused expression in her peripheral vision. He lounged lazily in the passenger seat, watching the exchange like it was prime entertainment.

"Oh, don’t mind me," he muttered. "I’m just here for the show."

V ignored him, shifting gears as they wove through Japantown’s neon-lit streets. She could already see the boutique Misty mentioned up ahead, its sleek, holographic storefront displaying the latest trends in both high fashion and streetwear.

"Alright, let’s get this over with," Panam sighed, already bracing herself.

V grinned. "C’mon, Panam, where’s the fun in that?"

The boutique’s doors slid open, and a wave of cool, perfumed air greeted them. Inside, racks of clothing shimmered under the soft glow of neon lighting, ranging from sleek streetwear to high-end fashion. A few mannequins were dressed in outrageous, borderline scandalous outfits, and V smirked as she spotted one particularly revealing dress.

"Think this would look good on you, Panam?" V teased, holding up a deep-cut, form-fitting number.

Panam scoffed. "Yeah, if I was trying to hustle drinks at a Corpo bar."

"Oh, c’mon, you’d turn heads in this," V grinned, tossing it over a nearby rack. "Might even get a free drink or two."

Misty giggled as she wandered toward a section with flowing, bohemian-inspired outfits. "I think you'd both look amazing in anything."

Panam shook her head. "I’ll stick to what I know. A jacket that doesn’t scream ‘walking target’ and pants that let me actually move."

Johnny leaned against a display, arms crossed, watching the exchange. "You’re missing out, Nomad. Nothing wrong with a little attention."

V did her best to ignore him as she plucked a few pieces off the racks for herself. "Alright, let's try some things on."

A little while later, V stepped out of the fitting room in a dangerously high-slit dress, a confident smirk on her lips. "What do you think?"

Panam blinked, then huffed a laugh. "You’re asking me? Shouldn’t you be sending that to someone else?"

V’s smirk widened as she snapped a holo-pic and flicked it off to River with a quick message.

 [V]

[Image insert]

Thoughts? 

Johnny whistled. "Now that’s how you keep a guy on his toes."

Misty peered over V’s shoulder, amused. "I hope he’s somewhere he won’t drop his drink."

V chuckled. "Guess we’ll find out."

As they moved on to more outfits, the conversation shifted to something more casual.

"Alright, spill," Panam said, arms crossed as she leaned against a rack of leather jackets. "V, what’s the weirdest gig you’ve ever taken?"

V raised an eyebrow. "Weirdest? That’s a long list."

Misty perked up. "Oh, this should be good."

V thought for a second before smirking. "Had a job once where I had to steal a guy’s entire wardrobe. Not eddies, not data—just his clothes."

Panam blinked. "What the hell? Why?"

V shrugged. "Client wanted to ‘ruin his life.’ No explanation, just a fat payout."

Misty giggled. "And did it work?"

"Dunno, but I’ll never forget the look on that guy’s face when he woke up with nothing but a pair of mismatched socks."

Panam shook her head, laughing. "Night City is something else."

The shopping spree continued, filled with laughter, sarcastic remarks, and occasional attempts to push Panam into something just outside her comfort zone. By the time they were done, their arms were full of bags, and their stomachs were grumbling.

"Alright," V said, adjusting her jacket. "Drinks next?"

"Now that I can get behind," Panam said with a smirk.

The three of them made their way to The Afterlife, looking for a well-earned drink. The neon glow bathed the booths in soft blue, and the bass-heavy music vibrated through the floor. It was still early, but the place had its usual mix of fixers, mercs, and wannabes trying to look important.

The second they stepped in, eyes turned toward them. Three women walking into a bar like this? They stood out, and not just because they looked good. Panam sighed as she noticed the attention. "We should’ve gone somewhere quieter."

"Oh, relax," V said, nudging her. "A little attention never killed anyone."

Johnny’s voice cut in. "I dunno, V. Some of these guys look like they’d try."

They made their way to the bar, where Rogue’s usual crew worked the counter. V ordered for all of them—whiskey for herself and Panam, something fruity for Misty. The drinks arrived fast, and they clinked their glasses together.

"To surviving Night City," Misty said with a small smile.

"To surviving this day," Panam muttered.

They drank, and the tension eased. But it didn’t take long before the first guy tried his luck. Some corpo type in a crisp suit slid into the seat next to Misty, flashing what he probably thought was a charming smile. "Didn’t expect to see an angel in a place like this. Can I buy you another drink?"

Misty gave him a polite, apologetic smile. "No, thanks. I already have someone."

The guy’s confidence barely wavered. "Ah, c’mon. One drink won’t hurt."

Before Misty could answer, Panam leaned forward, resting her arm on the table. "Buddy, she said no. Take the hint."

The suit hesitated before raising his hands. "Alright, alright. No need to get aggressive. Just thought I’d try."

"Yeah, well, don’t." Panam watched as he left, shaking her head. "Gonks never know when to quit."

Misty sighed, stirring her drink. "They always think persistence is charming."

V chuckled, but her amusement faded as another familiar face approached—Tiny Mike. He was grinning as he slid into the seat next to her, whiskey in hand. "V. Been a while. Thought maybe we could pick up where we left off."

V smirked, taking a slow sip of her drink. "And where exactly was that?"

Tiny Mike leaned in slightly. "Well, last time we got drinks together, you weren’t in such a hurry to leave."

Johnny appeared beside her, rolling his eyes. "Oh, for fuck’s sake. Guy thinks he’s smoother than he is."

V set her drink down, tapping the rim with her finger. "Look, Mike. Fun as that was, I think I’ll pass. Girls’ night and all."

Mike’s grin faltered for half a second before he shrugged, playing it off. "Ah, no worries. Just figured I’d try my luck."

V smirked. "Yeah? Well, luck’s not on your side tonight."

He let out a good-natured laugh, raising his glass in surrender. "Fair enough. Enjoy your night, ladies."

As he walked off, Panam shot V a look. "Do you always have guys trying to pick you up?"

V grinned, swirling her drink. "What can I say? It’s the jacket."

Misty giggled, and Panam just rolled her eyes, knocking back the rest of her whiskey. "Yeah, yeah. Next round’s on me."

V leaned back, enjoying the warmth of the drink and the rare peace of a night out. It wouldn’t last, not in Night City, but for now? It was enough.

As the night wound down, V paid the tab, and they made their way back to Misty’s shop. The streets were quieter now, the neon glow reflecting off rain-slicked pavement. V leaned against her car as Misty stretched with a sleepy sigh.

"Thanks for the invite, V. I needed this," Misty said, giving her a warm smile.

Panam nodded. "Yeah. Even if I’m never shopping with you again."

V smirked. "You loved it. Don’t lie."

Panam just shook her head, but the small grin on her face gave her away.

"Alright, I’m heading out. Try not to get into trouble on the way home, V," Panam said, giving her a pointed look before heading inside with Misty.

V waved them off before slipping into her car, the hum of the engine filling the quiet night. Instead of heading straight home, she turned toward the autoshop, where Claire would no doubt still be closing up shop.

Pulling into the garage, she spotted the familiar truck parked off to the side, gleaming under the dim lights. Claire leaned against it, arms crossed, waiting.

"Figured you’d show up eventually," Claire said with a smirk. "Good as new. Drove like a dream on the test run."

V ran a hand over the hood, nodding in approval. "Appreciate it, Claire. River’ll be glad to have it back."

Claire waved a hand. "No rush, but you let him know next time he wrecks it, you owes me a drink."

V chuckled. "I’ll make sure he gets the message."

Hopping into the driver’s seat, she turned over the engine, the familiar rumble filling the garage. Smooth. Solid. Good as new.

The drive to the Kutcher house was quiet, the roads mostly empty this late at night. When she finally pulled up, the house was dark except for the porch light. Joss was sitting by the porch when she arrived. The door cracked open as V climbed out, and Joss stepped toward the truck, arms folded, looking tired but grateful.

"Didn’t expect you to bring it by tonight," Joss said, eyeing the truck.

V shrugged. "Figured I’d get it fixed before gave them back. Saved River the trip."

Joss nodded, walking up to run a hand along the door. "He’ll appreciate it."

V lingered for a second before stepping back. "Tell him to pick it up when he gets a chance. And… tell him not to wreck it again."

Joss huffed a quiet laugh. "I’ll make sure he hears that. Thanks, V."

She hesitated for a moment, then looked at V, her expression softening. "And… for Randy. For everything. I know I haven't get the chance to say it yet. I don’t even wanna think about what could’ve happened if you weren’t there."

V met her gaze, nodding. "You don’t have to thank me, Joss. But I’m glad he’s okay."

Joss gave her a small, tired smile. "He’s getting better. Slow, but steady. That’s what matters. And that’s because of you."

V didn’t know what to say to that, so she just nodded again, offering a small smile in return.

With that, V climbed back into her car, finally heading home. The drive home was smooth, the city lights streaking past in a blur of reds and blues. By the time she pulled up to her apartment, the exhaustion hit her full force.

She barely tossed her jacket onto the couch before heading straight for the shower. The scalding water helped wash away the night, the lingering smell of whiskey and cigarette smoke finally fading. After toweling off, she threw on a loose shirt and collapsed onto her bed, stretching out with a sigh.

She open up her holo, expecting answer on the dress she send this morning but the screen show nothing. Nothing from River.

V exhaled through her nose, setting the holo down without another thought. Maybe he was busy, maybe he just didn't have anything to say. Either way, she wasn’t about to dwell on it.

She stretched out on the bed, letting the exhaustion pull her under. Tomorrow could wait. For now, she’d take the rare luxury of a quiet night.

Chapter Text

After about a day, Rogue called V and revealed that the Ebunike was an old container ship moored in Night City. She asked V to meet her back at the Afterlife to discuss further. V had almost forgotten that she had even asked Rogue about it—so much had happened, and her mind had been tangled in a dozen different things. Still no word from River, either. Not that she was waiting. Not that she cared.

V arrived at Afterlife, the bass-heavy music thrumming through her veins as she made her way inside. Crispin Weyland leaned against the bar, arms crossed. "Rogue’s waiting," he said, tilting his head toward a dimly lit booth.

Rogue didn’t waste time. "Got what you wanted. Smasher’s trail leads to Grayson. He’s holed up on the Ebunike."

V smirked. "So, we go after him."

"Damn right we do." Rogue reached into her car and tossed V a Replica of Johnny’s Samurai jacket. "Here. Thought you might want this."

V ran her hands over the material, the fabric heavy with history. A flicker of movement in the corner of her vision—Johnny Silverhand materialized, arms crossed, smirking. "Heh. Almost looks good on you."

She slid it on and followed Rogue to her car, the city’s neon glow shrinking in the rearview mirror as they sped toward the docks. The Ebunike loomed ahead, rusted steel and shadows, the water beneath it black as oil.

"Time to move," Rogue said. They scouted ahead, slipping past security, taking down guards with silent precision. The data terminal inside confirmed their target. "Grayson’s on board."

They moved fast, scaling the cargo containers and taking cover as patrols passed by. Then, an alarm blared.

"Shit," V muttered.

"So much for quiet," Johnny said, flickering beside her. "Hope you’re ready to dance."

Gunfire erupted. Rogue moved like a seasoned killer, picking off guards with sharp precision. V ducked behind cover, waiting for the right moment before unleashing a hail of bullets. One goon rushed her—she dodged, countered with a vicious elbow, and finished him off with a well-placed shot to the head.

They pressed forward, storming the upper deck. The firefight was brutal—bullets ricocheted off metal, the ship shaking with every explosion. Finally, they cornered Grayson near the bridge, his remaining guards lying in pools of blood.

Grayson sneered as he clutched his side, blood seeping through his fingers. "You’ve aged well, Rogue. Didn’t think I’d see you again. Not after what happened."

V leveled her pistol at his head. "Where’s Smasher?"

He chuckled, teeth stained red. "Not in Night City. Got promoted. Head of Arasaka Security. He’s in Japan now, sitting pretty."

Johnny’s form flickered beside V, his expression murderous. "Fucking coward, hiding behind Arasaka’s leash."

V didn’t lower the gun. "You’re lying."

"No lies. But tell you what—you let me live, and I’ll give you something special. A keepsake of Johnny’s. Something you might want."

Johnny scoffed. "This asshole’s full of shit."

V stepped closer, pressing the barrel against Grayson’s forehead. "What is it?"

Grayson smirked. "Johnny’s car. Smasher kept it. It’s here. I’ll even give you the code—911."

Rogue’s face hardened. "You’re pathetic, Grayson."

He coughed out a laugh. "And yet, here I am. So, what’s it gonna be?"

V considered it before shoving him aside, letting him live. Johnny groaned in frustration. "You’re way too soft."

"Grayson’s just trying to distract you," Rogue muttered. "Let’s finish what we came for."

After finding the container, V entered the code. The doors groaned open, revealing a pristine Porsche 911—Johnny’s car, untouched by time.

Johnny ran a ghostly hand over the hood, expression unreadable. "Damn… still looks good."

V smirked. "Guess it’s mine now."

Johnny shot her a glare. "The hell it is."

Rogue watched from the side. "Not bad, V. But this isn’t over. We still need to find Smasher."

Johnny clenched his fists. "And when we do… he’s fucking dead."

V revved the engine but noticed Rogue’s expression—distant, her gaze locked on the ship as if staring at ghosts from another lifetime. She let out a slow exhale, shaking her head.

"You okay?" V asked.

Rogue let out a bitter chuckle. "Never thought I’d come back here. Not like this. And Grayson… just proves some things never change."

V leaned against the car. "You were right about him trying to distract us. But you held your own back there."

Rogue scoffed. "Yeah, sure. Doesn’t make it any easier."

Johnny folded his arms, watching Rogue intently. "She’s thinking about the old days. About me."

V glanced at him, then back at Rogue. "Hey, we’ll find Smasher. This is just another step."

Rogue’s jaw tightened. "Yeah. Just another step." She turned toward the docks, composing herself. "I’ll be in touch."

Without another word, she walked away, disappearing into the shadows of Night City’s underbelly.

***

Later, V drove out to the Northern Oilfields, the Porsche kicking up dust as she came to a stop near a desolate patch of land. She stepped out, surveying the barren ground, a hollow weight settling in her chest.

"This it?" she murmured, voice quieter than usual

Johnny appeared beside her, his flickering form more solemn than usual. "Yeah. This is where they dumped me. No grave. Just dirt and dust."

V knelt down, fingers digging into the dry earth. "Guess we should fix that."

She took a makeshift marker and scratched Johnny’s name into the surface, creating a crude but meaningful grave. A memorial no one else would ever see, but one that mattered all the same.

Johnny exhaled, staring at it for a long moment. "Never thought I’d get one of these."

V sat back on her heels. "You deserved one. A real one."

Johnny let out a dry chuckle. "Yeah? What would you have put on it?"

V thought about it, the weight of the moment pressing on her chest. She looked at the crude engraving, then met Johnny’s gaze. "Here lies Johnny Silverhand… guy who saved me."

His voice wavered just slightly, and when V looked up at him, she saw something rare in his expression—something raw, something unguarded. He swallowed hard, as if choosing his words carefully. "I wish that was true."

V's brow furrowed. "It is true, Johnny. If it weren’t for the relic, I would’ve flatlined. You saved me."

Johnny stared at her for a long moment, then let out a rough chuckle, shaking his head. "Huh. Never thought I'd hear that from anyone, least of all you."Johnny blinked. Whatever response he had caught in his throat, and for a long time, he just stood there, staring at the ground. When he finally spoke, his voice was rougher, quieter. "Out of every fucker in Night City, I’m grateful I ended up in your head."

V swallowed the lump in her throat, forcing a smirk. "Getting sentimental on me, Johnny?"

Johnny scoffed, shaking his head. "Nah. Just stating facts."

Silence stretched between them again, the weight of a lifetime—two lifetimes—settling in the air. Johnny glanced at her, rubbing the back of his neck. "Look, I got one thing to ask. Call it my dying wish."

V arched a brow. "Yeah?"

He hesitated for the first time. "Ask Rogue out on a date. One night. Drive-in movie. Just like old times."

V tilted her head. "And?"

Johnny inhaled deeply, as if bracing himself. "And you gotta let me take control. Just for that night."

V exhaled, shaking her head with a smirk. "You really don’t let up, do you?"

Johnny shrugged. "Not about this, no."

V leaned back, staring up at the vast, empty sky. The stars were barely visible through the light pollution of Night City in the distance, but they were there. Somewhere. Like echoes of things long past, still lingering, refusing to be forgotten.

"I’ll think about it," she finally murmured.

The wind howled through the empty fields, a lonely whisper against the dust. They sat in silence, two ghosts bound by fate, vengeance, and the echoes of what could have been. The drive back home was quiet, the hum of the engine the only sound between them. Johnny sat in the passenger seat, gazing out the window, his expression unreadable. For once, there were no snide remarks, no biting sarcasm—just the weight of what had just transpired settling between them like a fog. And somehow, despite everything, V felt like tonight they had taken a step forward. Toward what, she wasn’t sure. But it was something.

***

The next day, V found herself at Jackie's place, hanging out in his garage while he worked on his Arch. The scent of oil and metal filled the air, mingling with the faint hum of a radio playing an old rock station. The warm glow of overhead lamps cast long shadows across the cluttered workbench, where scattered tools and spare parts lay in organized chaos.

Jackie wiped grease off his hands with a rag, flashing that big, easy grin of his. "Damn, chica, thought you forgot about me. Been a hot minute. Figured you’d be out there makin’ a name for yourself."

V smirked, leaning against the workbench. "Yeah, well, hell’s been raising itself lately. Thought I’d come see what you were up to."

Jackie revved the engine, his expression lighting up as the Arch roared to life. "Hoo boy! Listen to that. She purrs like a caladita. Almost ready to hit the streets again."

They fell into easy small talk, catching up on the usual—jobs, street rumors, old times. The rhythmic tapping of a wrench against metal filled the pauses, grounding the moment in a rare sense of normalcy. It felt good, like old times, a moment outside the chaos.

Then V’s holo buzzed. A message. From River.

[River W.]

Sorry for not texting sooner. A lot’s been going on. You free tonight? Thought maybe we could grab a drink.

V stared at the screen, a flicker of something sharp twisting in her chest. Frustration? Annoyance? It had been so long since she’d heard from him—no word, no check-in, just radio silence. And now, suddenly, he wanted to meet? The rational part of her told her to ignore it, let him sit with the same silence she had. But another part of her, the one that always leaned into trouble, couldn't resist.

Smirking, she typed back.

[V]

Depends. That supposed to be a date?

A pause. Then the reply came.

[River W.]

Yeah. It is.

V let out a low chuckle, shaking her head. "Took him long enough."

Jackie raised a brow, glancing at her. "Que onda? Who’s got you grinnin’ like that?"

V slid her holo back into her pocket, pushing off the workbench. "Just someone who finally decided to stop being a ghost."

Jackie smirked, tossing the grease-stained rag onto the bench. "Ohhh, so it’s like that, huh? About damn time. Thought maybe the guy got flatlined or somethin’."

V snorted, stretching her arms over her head. "Would’ve been easier to explain."

Jackie laughed, shaking his head. "Pfft, lemme guess—now you’re all giddy, gonna spend hours pickin’ out an outfit?"

V rolled her eyes. "Oh, please."

Jackie wagged a finger at her. "Hey, no shame in wantin’ to look fresh. You should take the Arch. Show up ridin’ in style."

V chuckled and bid Jackie goodbye before hopping onto her bike, the night air cool against her face as she sped through the neon-lit streets of Night City. The city hummed around her, its usual chaos a comforting backdrop to her thoughts. She reached her apartment, stepping inside and tossing her jacket onto the couch before stretching with a tired groan.

She flopped onto her bed, staring at the ceiling for a moment before pulling out her holo and sending a message to Panam.

[V]

Help. What do I even wear to a date with a cop?

A moment later, another message went to Misty.

[V]

Misty, I have a date. Outfit ideas? Don’t say ‘aura colors’ again.

Both replies came fast. 

[Panam P.]

Why are you dating a cop?! Also, go with black. You can never go wrong with black.

[Misty O.]

Ohhh, a date! Go with something that makes you feel powerful but comfortable. Your aura is fiery red today, by the way.

V sighed, shaking her head. "Great, that's helpful," she muttered, already sifting through her closet, pulling out outfits and tossing them onto the bed.

She held up a sleek black jacket, inspecting it in the mirror. Too much? She swapped it for a fitted leather one—edgy, but casual. Then came the debate between cargo pants or something tighter, more refined.

Her holo buzzed again—Panam.

[Panam P.]

You’re still picking, aren’t you? Just go with what makes you feel like you could kick ass if necessary. You never know.

V smirked, shaking her head. "Typical Panam."

Another buzz—Misty again.

[Misty O.]

Try deep red. It suits your aura tonight. And maybe… a silver necklace? Something grounding.

V exhaled, then hesitated, her gaze shifting to the seductive dress she had bought the other day—a deep crimson number with a daring slit up one side. The same one she had sent a picture of to River before... and gotten no response. She had almost written it off as a waste, but now? Now seemed like the perfect time to see his reaction in person.

She slipped into the dress, the silky fabric hugging her curves as she adjusted the straps. It was bold, far from her usual, but damn if it didn’t make her feel powerful. She added the silver necklace Misty suggested, letting it rest just above her collarbone. Finishing the look with a pair of sleek black heels, she turned to the mirror, smirking at her reflection.

"Ugh, really?" Johnny's voice cut in, dripping with exasperation. He materialized beside her, arms crossed, an unimpressed look on his face. "A cop, V? Out of all the people in this city? Thought you had better taste."

V rolled her eyes. "Not in the mood, Johnny."

He scoffed, pacing the room like an irritated specter. "Fine, fine, do what you want. But at least have the decency to take some damn blockers. Last thing I need is a memory of fucking a badge."

V shot him a dry look. "Wow. Romantic."

Johnny pointed at her accusingly. "Hey, I’m just saying—use protection, don’t get soft, and for fuck’s sake, don’t start spouting cop-loving bullshit afterward."

V smirked "Duly noted, Johnny. Now be a good engram and let me have one night without your whining."

Johnny grumbled, but for once, he didn’t push back. "Tch. Just don’t say I didn’t warn you."This felt different. Exciting? Nerve-wracking? It wasn’t like she hadn’t been on dates before, but this was River. And something about it felt heavier than just another night out.

She gave herself one last look. "Alright, V. Let’s do this."

Before stepping out, she pulled out her holo and sent River a quick message.

[V]

You picking me up? Kinda miss being your passenger princess.

River's reply came almost instantly.

[River W.]

Already on my way. Hope you’re ready, princess.

V smirked at the screen, shaking her head. It was about time he showed some initiative.

She took a deep breath, smoothing down the fabric of her dress as she paced her apartment. The anticipation buzzed in her chest, a mix of excitement and nerves. She hadn't seen River in a while, and though she wouldn’t admit it out loud, the thought of him seeing her like this sent a small thrill through her.

Johnny, of course, had to ruin the moment.

"You're actually nervous. Cute," he drawled, leaning against the doorframe with a smug grin. "What, afraid loverboy’s gonna be a disappointment?"

V rolled her eyes. "You still here? Thought you had some angsty brooding to do elsewhere."

Johnny chuckled. "Nah. This is too good to miss."

Before she could retort, the distant roar of an engine echoed from the street below. V stepped to the window, peeking through the blinds just as a familiar, sturdy-looking police cruiser pulled up in front of her building. The headlights cut through the neon glow of Night City, casting sharp reflections across the pavement. River sat behind the wheel, one hand drumming against the steering wheel, the other resting casually on the gear shift.

Her holo buzzed again.

[River W.]

Outside. You coming down, or do I gotta come get you?

V smirked and grabbed her jacket, more out of habit than necessity. She made her way out of the apartment, the elevator ride down feeling longer than usual. When the doors finally slid open, she spotted River leaning against his truck, arms crossed, looking effortlessly cool in a casual, well-fitted button-down with the sleeves rolled up, paired with dark jeans that made him look effortlessly put-together. It was a refreshing change from his usual look, but he still carried that same undeniable presence. His gaze lifted as she stepped out into the night, and for a moment, he just stared.

V took her time walking over, enjoying the way his eyes trailed over her. He swallowed hard, clearly trying to keep his cool, but the way his fingers twitched at his sides gave him away. "What? No snarky comment?"

River let out a low whistle, shaking his head. "Damn. That’s the dress you sent me a picture of, isn’t it?"

V arched a brow. "Oh, so now you remember? Thought the radio silence meant you weren’t impressed."

River exhaled sharply, rubbing the back of his neck as his gaze darted to the side for a second, like he was gathering his thoughts. "Nah. I remembered. Trust me, I remembered. Just... didn’t trust myself to say something smooth back then."

V smirked. "And now?"

River’s jaw clenched slightly before he let out a soft chuckle, his voice a little rougher, lower. "Now I’m tryin’ real hard to remember why I wanted to take you somewhere public."

Johnny groaned in the background. "Ugh, spare me."

V ignored him, stepping just close enough that River’s breath hitched. "Tempting, but you’re the one who asked me out. So, where we headed, Detective?"

River cleared his throat, shaking off whatever thoughts had been running wild in his head. He opened the passenger door for her, trying to play it cool despite the heat in his eyes. "Guess you’ll have to find out."

V slid into the seat, the familiar scent of leather and faint cologne filling her senses as River rounded the truck and got behind the wheel. His fingers flexed on the steering wheel before he put the car in drive, sneaking another glance her way, his expression somewhere between awe and trouble.

As the cruiser pulled away from the curb, the city lights reflecting in the windshield, she smirked to herself.

"So," she drawled, crossing one leg over the other, her dress shifting just enough to catch River’s attention, "what’s with the outfit? Didn’t think you owned anything but tactical gear."

River chuckled, one hand steady on the wheel. "Figured I’d change it up. Special occasion and all."

V smirked. "Special, huh? Guess that means you actually thought about this. Almost didn’t believe it when you texted."

River sighed, shooting her a glance. "C’mon, V. You know it wasn’t like that. I just… needed to sort some things out. Work’s been crazy, and, well… figured if I was gonna ask you out, I should do it right." He gripped the wheel a little tighter, as if saying it out loud made it more real.

She tilted her head, eyes gleaming with mischief. "Uh-huh. Thought maybe you just got lost in Yawen’s arms."

River visibly stiffened, his fingers gripping the wheel a little too tight. His jaw tensed, and he glanced at her, almost like he was bracing himself for something. "What? No. No, it wasn’t—" He stopped himself, exhaling sharply, adjusting his collar as if the truck had suddenly gotten too warm. "It wasn’t like that. At all."

V bit back a grin. "Relax, River. Just messin’ with you."

He shook his head, muttering something under his breath before glancing her way again. "You really like getting a rise outta me, don’t you?"

She leaned back, stretching lazily, voice smooth as silk. "Maybe. Kinda cute watching you try to keep your cool."

River groaned, shaking his head with a smirk. "Yeah, this is gonna be a long night."

Johnny cackled from the back of her mind. "Oh, this is gonna be fun. But do me a favor—blockers, V. Last thing I need is front-row seats to your cop kink. And for fuck’s sake, if things escalate, at least make sure he knows how to use his handcuffs properly." 

"Duly noted, Johnny. But I think River's got more class than you give him credit for."

River, oblivious to the engram's commentary, focused on the road, though his grip on the wheel was just a little tighter than usual. The city lights flickered past, neon reflections dancing on the windshield as the low hum of the engine filled the comfortable silence. Finally, River spoke, his voice warm but teasing. "So, you always dress this dangerous, or is tonight special?"

V crossed her legs again, the slit in her dress shifting just enough to make his fingers twitch on the steering wheel. "Wouldn’t you like to know?"

River let out a breath through his nose, shaking his head with a lopsided smile. "You really like making my life difficult, don’t you?"

She chuckled. "Just keeping things interesting."

They pulled up to a quiet part of Japantown, the neon buzz still alive but less chaotic than the rest of the city. River parked near a cozy, tucked-away restaurant—one that looked way nicer than the usual dive bars V was used to. He stepped out first, moving around the truck to open her door before she could reach for the handle.

"Wow, a real gentleman." V smirked as she took his offered hand, stepping gracefully out of the truck.

"Wouldn't be much of a date if I left you to fend for yourself, would it?" River’s tone was light, but the way his eyes traced over her—like he was still getting used to the fact that she was really here, dressed like that, for him—sent a quiet thrill down her spine.

V squeezed his hand briefly before letting go, pretending not to notice the way he hesitated before pulling back. "So, this where you take all your dates?"

River snorted. "Yeah, all two of ‘em. Figured third time’s the charm."

The restaurant was one of the nicer ones—real tablecloths, candles flickering between plates, a synth-jazz band playing softly in the background. V let out a low whistle as she slid into her seat, crossing her legs in a way that had River’s gaze flickering downward before he caught himself.

V arched a brow as she sat. "Damn, River. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were trying to impress me."

River settled across from her, resting his arms on the table, that easy smile of his making her stomach do something annoying. "That depends. Is it working?"

She tilted her head, pretending to consider. "Mmm… maybe. Ask me again after dessert."

His chuckle was low, warm, and just a little bit smug. "Guess I better make sure you stay long enough to find out, then."

Before she could answer, the waiter arrived—a sleek, good-looking guy with an easy smile. V turned to him, letting her posture shift, her body language just suggestive enough. She parted her lips slightly, letting her voice take on a slow, sultry tone, teasing grin as she dragged her gaze over him.

"Well, aren’t you a sight," she purred, eyes gleaming as she looked up at him. "What’s good here? And I don’t just mean the food."

The waiter chuckled, clearly enjoying her attention. "Depends. You looking for something light? Or something… intense?"

V’s fingers toyed with the stem of her wine glass, her tongue flicking out to wet her lower lip. "Mmm. I do like something rich. Something that lingers." She let the words roll off her tongue like silk, eyes locking onto his.

The waiter grinned, leaning in just slightly. "I think I have exactly what you need."

Across the table, River’s jaw tensed. His grip on his menu tightened, but he said nothing—just exhaled slowly through his nose like a man counting backward from ten.

V, of course, wasn’t done. She rested her elbow on the table, tilting her chin up to look at the waiter through her lashes. "You sure?" she asked, voice dipping into something sultry. "I’d hate to be disappointed."

The waiter chuckled, holding her gaze. "I’ll make sure you leave satisfied."

Across the table, River shifted. "She’ll take the special," he said flatly, jaw tightening. "And another drink."

The waiter hesitated for just a second before nodding, throwing V one last lingering glance before walking off.

V bit her lip, barely containing her smirk as the waiter hesitated for just a second before nodding, throwing V one last lingering glance before walking off.

She turned back to River slowly, hiding her smirk behind the rim of her glass. "Something wrong, Detective?"

River exhaled hard, rubbing a hand over his jaw. "You always do that?"

"Do what?"

"Flirt. Push people."

She leaned forward, voice nothing but silk. "Only when it’s fun."

River’s fingers drummed against the table, his eyes dark, locked onto hers. "That was fun for you?"

She grinned. "A little."

River huffed, reaching for his drink. "Guess I should’ve let him pull up a chair. Looked like he was ready to sit in my damn lap."

V hummed, tapping a manicured nail against the glass. "Oh, don’t tell me you’re jealous."

River huffed out a short laugh, but there was no humor in it. "Jealous? No. Just wondering how long you planned on making a fool out of him."

She arched a brow. "Him?"

His eyes locked onto hers, voice lower now, rougher. "Or me."

Her stomach tightened. The air between them was charged, electric, humming with tension.

"Now, now," she purred, dragging a slow finger along the rim of her glass, her gaze never leaving his. "No need to get all possessive on me, River. I was just having a little fun."

River exhaled through his nose, fingers tightening around his fork as he shook his head. "You’re a menace, you know that?"

She grinned. "And you love it."

Dinner passed in a blur of slow sips, stolen glances, and barely contained tension. Every time V licked a stray drop of sauce from her fingertip, every time she shifted just enough for her knee to brush against his under the table, River noticed. He tried to act like he wasn’t affected, but she saw the way his grip tightened on his glass, the way his exhale deepened just slightly.

By the time they left, the air between them practically crackled with unspoken challenges. V looped her arm through his as they stepped into the neon-lit streets. "So, Detective. This is usually the part where the night ends, huh? A polite goodnight?"

River glanced at her, something smoldering beneath the surface. "Not if you don’t want it to."

V grinned. "Good answer. Let’s go somewhere else. Somewhere real."

The moment they stepped into El Coyote Cojo, the atmosphere changed. The bar was packed, bathed in flickering neon light and the scent of cheap tequila. The sound of laughter and clinking glasses mixed with the low thrum of a jukebox playing some old rock ballad.

V grinned, sliding up to the bar and rapping her knuckles on the counter. "Pepe! Been too long."

The bartender turned, breaking into a broad smile. "V! Thought you forgot about us."

"Never," she smirked. "Mama Welles in tonight?"

Pepe shook his head, setting down the glass. "Nah, she left a while ago. Probably home, getting some rest."

V nodded, then leaned on the counter. "What about Jackie? Haven’t seen his big ugly mug around."

Pepe chuckled. "Jackie? He’s on a date with Misty."

V’s grin widened. "I think that's two nights in a row already."

Pepe gave her a knowing look, then flicked his gaze to River, eyes twinkling with mischief. "Seems like Jackie ain't the only one on a date tonight."

V smirked, leaning on the bar. "Pepe, meet River Ward. NCPD detective, pain in my ass, and tonight’s very lucky man."

River extended a hand, shaking Pepe’s firmly. "Nice to meet you."

Pepe nodded approvingly. "Any friend of V’s is welcome here. First round’s on me."

V smirked. "That’s why I keep coming back."

Pepe laughed and poured them both a drink, sliding their glasses across the bar. "Enjoy, chica. Try not to start any fights this time."

V feigned innocence. "Me? Start fights?"

Pepe just shook his head, already moving on to the next customer.

She turned to River, lifting her glass. "Alright, Ward. You’ve been suspiciously quiet lately. What’s up?"

River ran a hand over his face, then exhaled heavily. "Been busy with Randy. Making sure he stays on the right track, that he's got everything he needs." His fingers tightened around his glass. "And work’s been... complicated."

V studied him. "Complicated how?"

His gaze dropped to his drink, trying to find the right words. "The Rhyne's case, I still haven't file a report to IA. Hell I don't even know if it is the right move. Han's still talking to me, we're civil. He act like nothing ever happen, like he never help to cover Rhyne's murder...and I don't know if I should even keep the badge anymore."

V leaned in slightly. "You thinking about walking away?"

River let out a humorless chuckle. "Been thinking about it for a while. Feels like I’m trying to fix a sinking ship with duct tape." He exhaled. "Maybe it’s time to let it go."

V watched him, tapping her glass lightly. "But you don’t know if you can."

His jaw tightened. "I don’t know who I am without it."

She let that settle between them before tilting her head. "You know what I think?"

River arched a brow. "Oh, this oughta be good."

She smirked. "I think you already know what you need to do. You’re just afraid of what it’ll cost you."

River looked at her then, really looked at her.

The drinks kept flowing, the tension thick between them like the smoke curling from the corner of the bar. V leaned against the counter, glass in hand, eyes locked on River as she smirked over the rim of her drink.

River wasn’t far behind, his usual composed demeanor starting to crack under the alcohol and her relentless teasing. She had a way of getting under his skin—had since the moment they met. And now? Now she was making damn sure he felt it.

“Didn’t peg you for a tequila guy, Ward,” V teased, swirling the amber liquid in her glass.

River smirked, taking a slow sip before setting his glass down. “Didn’t peg you for the kind to sip anything.”

V gasped in mock offense, pressing a hand to her chest. “Are you saying I have no class?”

River leaned in, voice low, rough. “I’m saying I’ve seen you drink whiskey like it’s water and still talk shit like you’re sober.”

V grinned, tilting her head. “Mmm, and yet, here you are—drinking with me, again.”

River exhaled, shaking his head. “You’re a bad influence.”

V leaned closer, her knee brushing against his thigh. “You love it.”

He didn’t deny it.

The bar was getting rowdier, bodies pressing closer, music thumping heavier. V glanced around before catching Pepe’s eye. “Hey, got a booth open? Somewhere quieter?”

Pepe smirked, already knowing damn well why she was asking. “Back corner’s free. Try not to defile my furniture.”

V shot him a wink, grabbing her drink. “No promises.”

She turned to River, jerking her head toward the dimly lit booth tucked away from the crowd. “C’mon, big guy. Let’s get a little privacy.”

River followed, sliding into the booth across from her, elbows resting on the table as he watched her settle in. The shadows cast across his face made him look even more rugged, more dangerous. Or maybe that was just the tequila talking.

The warmth of tequila hummed in V’s veins, smoothing the edges of the night into something hazy, slow, and dangerous. River was watching her—had been watching her all damn night—but now, tucked away in the dimly lit booth, his gaze was heavier. Darker.

And she was loving it.

She shifted slightly, one leg crossing over the other, her dress sliding up just an inch too far—just enough for him to catch a glimpse of the lace tracing the top of her thigh before she innocently tugged the fabric back down. She didn’t miss the way his jaw flexed, the way his fingers curled around his glass just a little tighter.

“What’s wrong, Ward?” she teased, resting her chin on her palm. “You seem… distracted.”

River exhaled slowly, taking a long sip of his drink before setting it down with deliberate care. “Noticed you’ve had a few wardrobe malfunctions tonight.” His voice was steady, but she didn’t miss the way his eyes flickered downward for half a second before locking back onto hers.

V smirked, trailing a slow fingertip around the rim of her glass. “Mmm… can’t say I noticed.”

“Yeah?” His tone was rough, skeptical.

She leaned in slightly, her knee grazing against his under the table. “You keeping track, Detective?”

His fingers tightened against the glass again. “Not my job anymore.”

She hummed, amused, tilting her head. “Shame. Feels like I could get away with a lot more now.”

River exhaled through his nose, shaking his head. “You already do.”

V bit her lip, her smirk deepening as she trailed a fingertip along her thigh, smoothing out the hem of her dress again. Another subtle movement. Another flicker of lace. Another test.

She saw the way River shifted, the way his hands curled into fists against his thighs for just a second before he forced himself to relax. Still holding on. Barely.

"You keep playing, V," River muttered, voice lower now, rough around the edges. "One of these days, you're gonna find out where the line is."

V leaned closer, close enough that her breath ghosted against his cheek, her lips just inches from his ear. "Mmm… good."

River’s grip on the table was so tight now his knuckles were white.

V pulled back just enough to meet his gaze, half-lidded and dripping with mischief. “You gonna sit there all night, big guy? Or you finally gonna admit you like this game?”

River exhaled slowly, tilting his head. “I think you like pushing it.”

She grinned, running her tongue over her teeth. “I know I do.”

They were so close now, heat thrumming between them, every inch of space charged. The air between them felt like it was held together by a single, frayed thread—one sharp movement away from snapping entirely.

V shifted, her balance faltering just enough from the alcohol and the way she’d been leaning forward. Before she could catch herself, she slipped—right onto River’s lap.

His hands caught her instantly, big and firm, fingers gripping her waist like pure instinct. And fuck, she felt how tense he was.

“Well, well…” She smirked, hands sliding up to rest against his chest, fingers toying with the collar of his jacket. “If you wanted me here, you could’ve just said so.”

River exhaled through gritted teeth, his hands tightening around her waist. “V.”

She tilted her head, voice all soft amusement. “Yeah?”

“You’re pushing it.”

She grinned, shifting just enough that his grip tightened—just enough to remind her exactly how much strength he had, how easy it would be for him to flip this dynamic if he wanted to.

Her voice dipped into something lower, softer. “And?”

River didn’t answer at first, just stared at her, his fingers flexing against her waist. His breathing was slower now, more controlled—but she knew control wasn’t what was winning this battle.

His fingers were tense against her, firm enough that she could feel the strength in them, but not pulling her closer. Not yet. He was still holding back, still trying to keep some illusion of control.

She smirked, fingers toying with the collar of his jacket, her lips hovering just near his ear as she murmured, “You gonna tell me to get up, Ward?”

River exhaled slowly, and fuck, she felt it. The way his chest rose and fell beneath her palms, the way his grip on her waist twitched like he was barely keeping himself in check.

“V…” His voice was low, gritted—half warning, half something else.

She hummed, feigning innocence as she shifted slightly, adjusting herself in his lap.

And there it was.

The unmistakable press of him against her thigh, hot and solid beneath the rough fabric of his jeans.

V stilled for a fraction of a second, lips curving into something wicked. She bit down on her lower lip, eyes flickering up to meet his—waiting, daring him to react.

River tensed, his hands flexing against her hips. His jaw was tight, his breathing sharp through his nose, and fuck, he knew she noticed. He knew—but he wasn’t moving.

He wasn’t pushing her off.

V shifted again, just barely, just enough to feel him against her again, just enough for him to feel her, too.

River let out a slow, heavy breath, his grip tightening like he was at war with himself. “You’re really pushing it.”

V leaned in, her lips brushing the shell of his ear. “Mmm… and you’re really not stopping me.”

His breath hitched, his hands twitching against her hips. One second away.

She pressed in closer, her thigh sliding along his in the process, the friction of it making his fingers tighten hard enough to leave bruises.

He exhaled sharply through his nose, his patience fraying right in front of her.

“V.” His voice was a low growl now, his fingers digging into her like he was on the edge of doing something reckless.

She pulled back just enough to meet his gaze, her smirk lazy, teasing. “Yeah?”

His eyes were dark now, pupils blown wide, chest rising and falling in slow, measured breaths. He was trying—fuck, he was trying to stay composed.

But she could feel it.

Feel how much he wanted to snap.

Feel how close he was to giving in.

And goddamn, she wanted it.

She tilted her head, her voice smooth and taunting. “Tell me to stop, River.”

His hands twitched again, his jaw clenching so tight she thought he might crack a tooth.

For a second, he didn’t answer.

Then—slowly, rough and breathless, his fingers tightening like a silent warning:

“…Don’t start something you’re not ready to finish, V.”

And fuck, that just made her grin.

V smirked, fingers tracing the edge of his collar, teasing, daring. “C’mon, big guy. You gonna keep pretending you don’t want this?”

And that—that was what finally snapped the last frayed thread holding him back.

River moved so fast she barely had time to react.

His hands gripped her hips, hard, pulling her in as his mouth crashed against hers.

The kiss was rough, all heat and frustration, all the nights they hadn’t done this, all the times they should have. His fingers dug into her, pulling her flush against him, no more teasing, no more games.

V moaned into his mouth, her nails scraping up his chest, gripping onto him like she needed him closer. She kissed him back just as hard, just as hungry, tilting her head to deepen it, tasting whiskey and heat and him.

River groaned against her lips, his hands sliding up, one gripping the back of her neck, the other tight around her waist. When he pulled her forward, grinding her against him, she felt it—all of him.

And fuck, that sent a shiver down her spine.

Her fingers tangled in his jacket, gripping tight as she rolled her hips just enough to make him curse under his breath. He broke away for just a second, sucking in air, his forehead pressed against hers.

“V,” he rasped, his voice thick with restraint, like he was barely holding himself together.

She licked her lips, smirking. “Yeah?”

His eyes burned into hers, dark, needy. His breath was heavy, his chest rising and falling fast.

Then he growled, pulling her back in.

The next kiss was desperate, his hands moving, roaming, claiming. His fingers slipped beneath the hem of her dress, just barely tracing along the lace of her thigh-highs, enough to make her shudder against him.

V gasped into his mouth, her grip on his collar tightening, dragging him impossibly closer. She was on fire, every nerve alight, and fuck, she wanted more—wanted everything.

River exhaled hard against her lips, his hands gripping her like he was barely holding on. “You keep grinding on me like that, we’re gonna have a real problem.”

V smirked, shifting just enough to feel the way his fingers tightened in response. “Sounds like a you problem.”

River growled, fingers digging in. “Keep pushing, V. See what happens.”

She tilted her head, voice teasing, breathless. “Mmm, what will happen, Ward?”

His lips brushed against her jaw, hot and rough. “You really wanna find out?”

V grinned, breath hitching when his hand slid just a little higher up her thigh, teasing, testing.

She met his gaze, eyes burning.

“Yeah,” she murmured, voice dripping with challenge.

And fuck, River looked one second away from ruining her right there in that booth.

V was ruined.

Breathless.

Lipstick smudged, her lips swollen from how hard River had kissed her, from how much he had taken. Her platinum-white hair with those dark streaks had fallen messily around her shoulders, strands sticking to her flushed skin.

And fuck, her green eyes—slightly teary from how breathless he’d left her—were locked on his, heavy-lidded, hazy with heat.

She whimpered softly, sucking in a shaky breath as River’s grip on her tightened. His fingers were still firm on her waist, his chest still heaving from the kiss that had nearly broken both of them.

And goddamn, she looked so fucking pretty like this.

Stunned. Wrecked.

Like she had no idea how bad he wanted to pull her in again and ruin her even more.

River swallowed hard, dragging his gaze over her, taking in everything—her messy lips, the way her dress had shifted way too high up her thighs, teasing the lace barely covering her.

His voice came out low, gritted, like he was fighting himself.

“Look at you…”

V blinked, still catching her breath, licking her lips—and fuck, watching her do that nearly snapped something in him all over again.

A slow, lazy smirk curved her lips as she met his gaze, voice soft, teasing. “Like what you see, Ward?”

River let out a slow, heavy exhale through his nose. His fingers twitched against her hips.

“You have no idea.”

V grinned, her hands still gripping onto the front of his jacket, her nails barely pressing against the leather.

Her voice dropped lower, silkier. “Mmm… maybe you should show me, then.”

River’s jaw ticked. His fingers flexed again, like he was this close to grabbing her, flipping her, pinning her against the booth and finally giving in.

V could see it. Could feel it in the way his body was tensed beneath her, the way his fingers dragged ever so slightly along the curve of her thigh, his self-control hanging by a fucking thread.

And fuck, she wanted him to snap.

She shifted in his lap again—slow, deliberate—her thighs brushing against him, pressing just enough to feel the way he was already hard.

River sucked in a breath through his teeth, his fingers tightening so fucking hard she was sure she’d feel it tomorrow.

V smirked, letting out a soft, sweet little hum. “Mmm… is that for me?”

River growled, his grip snapping tighter, his voice barely a rasp.

“V—”

She tilted her head, blinking up at him with those big green eyes, still hazy from the kiss, her lips curling at the edges.

“Say it, big guy.” Her voice was all smoke, all tease, all fucking trouble.

River’s breath was ragged, his eyes dark as he stared at her—fucking ruined, sitting there in his lap, looking like she belonged there.

And fuck, maybe she did.

His grip flexed again, fingers digging in.

“…Yeah,” he admitted finally, voice rough, breathless. “Yeah, it’s for you.”

V grinned, running a slow, teasing finger down the front of his chest.

“Good,” she whispered.

And fuck, River was done for.

River exhaled hard, trying to focus, trying not to just throw her onto this damn table and let this go exactly where they both wanted it to.

But not here.

Not like this.

Not when she was too drunk to feel it the way she should.

River sucked in a breath, forcing his hands to steady. “We should go.”

V blinked up at him, lips parting. “What?”

He swallowed hard, voice lower now, more certain. “Not here, V. Not like this.” His fingers flexed against her hips, his jaw tight. “I don’t want our first time being in the back of some fucking bar when you’re too drunk to remember how good it should be.”

She stared at him for a second, breath still uneven, fingers still clinging to his jacket.

Then—slowly—a lazy, knowing smirk curved her lips.

She leaned in, her mouth barely brushing against his ear. “You really think I won’t remember?”

River groaned low, hands tight on her, his self-control hanging by a damn thread.

“V.” His voice was all warning, all restraint.

She chuckled, breath warm against his skin. “Alright, alright. Let’s go.”

River exhaled sharply, his grip on her lingering a moment longer before he finally helped her off his lap. She swayed a little when she stood, legs still shaky from how deep they’d been in it, and fuck—River’s hands were on her waist immediately, steadying her.

V smirked, looking up at him through her lashes. “You always this much of a gentleman?”

His grip on her tightened for just a second, his voice low, gritted. “Not always.”

Her grin widened. “Good.”

***

The air inside the truck was thick.

V sat close, legs crossed, her dress still riding high up her thighs. River had one hand on the wheel—and the other on her.

His palm rested firm on her thigh, fingers flexing slightly against her skin. Warm, possessive.

V shifted slightly, dragging her nails down his forearm, watching the way his jaw clenched.

"So…" she murmured, voice sultry. "Your place or mine?"

River exhaled sharply, his grip tightening on her leg.

His voice came out low, gravelly. "Mine."

V smirked, dragging a slow fingertip along his forearm. "Good choice."

She leaned in just slightly, her breath teasing the side of his neck, her lips brushing just enough to make him tense. "You’re really making me wait for this, Ward."

River let out a rough, almost pained chuckle, his knuckles white against the steering wheel.

"You think you’re the one waiting?"

V grinned, biting her lip as she let her legs part slightly under his grip. "How long have you been wanting this, River?"

River clenched his jaw, his fingers flexing against her thigh.

Then, finally, he answered.

"Since the first damn time you smirked at me like you knew how bad I wanted you."

V’s breath hitched.

River smirked slightly, watching her expression shift.

"Yeah," he said, his voice deep, rough. "Now you know."

V’s pulse pounded.

"Then drive faster."

River’s grip tightened hard.

And he did.

***

The second River shut the door behind them, the air between them ignited.

V barely had time to take a breath before River was on her—grabbing her by the waist, spinning her, pressing her against the wall. His body was flush against hers, his heat sinking into her skin, his breath warm, ragged.

His hands were everywhere—gripping, teasing, sliding up the curve of her thighs where her dress had already ridden up. His restraint was gone, burned away by the sheer need pulsing between them.

"You sure about this?" he rasped against her ear, voice thick, strained.

V smirked, wrapping her arms around his neck, pulling him down to her. "Ward, if you stop now, I swear to God—"

River was all over her—his lips, his hands, the heat of his body pressing her into the mattress like he never wanted to let her go.

V gasped as his mouth traced along her jaw, down the column of her neck, leaving behind a trail of heat that made her shiver. Her fingers tangled in his hair, tugging just enough to pull a low, wrecked groan from his throat.

"You like that, huh?" she teased breathlessly, smirking as she tilted her chin up, giving him more room.

River exhaled sharply, his breath hot against her skin. "You’re gonna be the death of me, V."

She grinned, rolling her hips up against him, feeling the hard evidence of just how much he wanted her. "Then die happy."

River snapped.

He grabbed her thighs, lifting her effortlessly. V gasped, instinctively locking her legs around his waist as he carried her across the room, his lips never leaving hers.

The back of her knees hit the bed, and suddenly, she was falling—bouncing slightly against the mattress before River was on her again, hands braced on either side of her head.

V looked up at him—breathless, lips swollen, her platinum-white hair with black highlights falling messily around her. Her green eyes were hazily dazed, pupils blown, lips still parted from their last kiss.

River froze.

He just looked at her, something dark and heavy in his gaze.

"Fuck," he muttered under his breath, shaking his head. "You look so goddamn pretty like this."

V smirked, reaching up, curling her fingers into his short hair. "Then why aren’t you ruining me already, Ward?"

A rough chuckle rumbled in his chest, but there was no humor in it—only pure hunger.

"Oh, I will."

And then he did.

Clothes hit the floor in messy heaps. Lips and hands wandered, tracing scars, gripping too tight, leaving marks neither of them would forget. River moved like he was starving for her—groaning when her nails raked down his back, when she whispered his name between gasps.

The room was filled with the sounds of breathless laughter, gasps, groans, the rustling of sheets as bodies tangled together, heat rising between them like an unstoppable force.

When V teasingly whispered, "You keep going like this, Ward, and you might actually knock me up," she felt him freeze for just a second.

And then—his lips curved into a slow, wicked smirk against her neck.

"Wouldn’t mind it," he murmured, voice husky, rough with intent.

V's breath hitched, her teasing faltering for the first time. "Shit…"

River chuckled, dark, low, utterly wrecked for her. "Yeah," he rasped, pressing his forehead against hers. "Now you know how bad I want you."*

She stared up at him, lips swollen, green eyes hazy, platinum-white hair spilled across the sheets.

"Then prove it, Ward."

V leaned forward, her breath warm against his neck. “I can stop if you want,” she teased, letting her lips brush the sensitive skin below his ear.

River's grip tightened. “Not a chance,” he growled, voice rough with need.

She smiled wickedly and ground down harder, eliciting a deep groan from him that sent a thrill through her body. He was already breathing hard, the usual control slipping away as desire took over. She loved seeing him like this—completely at her mercy yet so powerful beneath her.

V sat up and tugged off her shirt in one smooth motion, tossing it aside. The cool air on her bare skin was electric; River’s gaze hotter still as it raked over her exposed curves. She felt his hands slide up from her hips to cup her breasts, thumbs brushing over taut nipples with just enough pressure to make her gasp and arch into his touch.

“Fuck, V,” he murmured appreciatively, the hunger in his eyes making her ache for more.

“Yeah,” she breathed, reaching down to free him from the confines of his jeans. Her fingers worked quickly at the button and zipper, eager and impatient until she finally had him in hand—hard and ready and exactly what she wanted. She stroked him slowly at first, savoring every twitch and low moan that escaped his lips.

River's hands were everywhere now—exploring the curves of her body, tracing the edges of tattoos and scars alike with equal reverence. He hooked a finger under the waistband of her shorts and pulled impatiently. “Off,” he demanded softly but firmly, leaving no room for argument.

V complied with a grin, standing briefly to shimmy out of the rest of her clothes before returning to straddle him again—utterly naked this time and reveling in how his breath caught at the sight of her. She guided him back inside without hesitation or delay; the instant blissful connection making them both gasp as pleasure surged through them.

She rode him hard and fast at first—no teasing this time—driven by an intense need that made their earlier encounter feel like foreplay by comparison. River met each thrust eagerly, matching her pace even as it pushed them both closer to the edge.

As they moved together in perfect sync, V marveled at how easy it was to lose herself in him like this—to let go of everything except for now and here and more. River seemed equally lost; eyes dark with pleasure as he watched her above him: hair wild around her face and mouth open on a wordless cry.

When he flipped them suddenly—itself an impressive feat given how lost he'd seemed—V found herself beneath him with no chance to catch a breath before he filled her again with deep demanding strokes that made coherence impossible. She wrapped legs and arms around him tightly; pulling him closer as he drove into her with relentless intensity.

The air was thick with the scent of sweat, sex, and River’s cologne—woodsy, smoky, grounding. The sheets were tangled around their legs, the mattress still warm from everything they had done.

River lay on his back, chest rising and falling with deep, heavy breaths. His arm was draped over his forehead, muscles still tense, his body humming in the aftermath. The weight of V against his side was the only thing keeping him from completely drifting away.

She was sprawled beside him, her platinum-white hair with black highlights a beautiful mess against the pillow. Her lips—ruined, swollen, smudged lipstick still clinging faintly—were curled into a lazy, satisfied smirk.

River turned his head slightly, gaze locking onto her.

And fuck, she looked unreal.

The faint sheen of sweat on her bare skin, the flush still high on her cheeks, her green eyes glazed, dreamy, a little teary from everything they had done.

Something clenched in his chest.

He wanted her again.

Even after everything—after losing himself in her, after feeling her tremble beneath him, after marking her in ways no one else ever would—he still wanted her.

V let out a breathy, satisfied sigh, stretching her arms above her head, letting the sheets slip lower. "Damn, Ward." Her voice was wrecked, husky from moaning his name over and over. "Didn’t think you had that in you."

River smirked, his hand lazily tracing circles against her bare thigh. "You doubting me, V?"

She grinned, rolling onto her side, resting her chin against his chest as she lazily dragged her nails down his stomach. "Not at all. Just wondering…" She flicked her eyes up to meet his, a slow, teasing glint in them. "So… how much of that was real, and how much was chrome?"

"You heard me, Ward." Her lips curled in amusement, eyes glinting mischievously. "All that stamina, all that power… You got something under the hood I should know about? Or is that all you?"

River let out a short, incredulous laugh, shaking his head. "Only my right arm and my eye aren’t organic," he said dryly. "Rest is all me, V."

She grinned, stretching her arms above her head, the movement making his breath hitch as the sheets slid down her bare skin. "Damn," she muttered, biting her lower lip dramatically. "No wonder I feel like I just got run over by a MaxTac convoy."

River smirked, propping himself up slightly on his elbow. "You complaining?"

V let out a playful sigh, resting her chin on his chest. "Not at all. So... how many times can you go for?"

River exhaled sharply, eyes darkening. "You trying to test me?"

V hummed, fingers trailing lower, nails scraping just enough to make him suck in a breath. "Maybe…"

His grip on her thigh tightened, jaw flexing. "V…"

She grinned wickedly. "That a warning, Detective?"

His hand shot up, gripping the back of her neck, pulling her down until their lips were barely apart. His voice was low, dangerous. "You really wanna find out?"

V shivered, her teasing faltering for a split second.

River smirked.

"Thought so."

Before she could fire back, he flipped them over, pinning her beneath him again.

And just like that—the night wasn’t over yet.

His mouth was on her neck, trailing down, making her gasp, arch. Her breath came in ragged pulls as he pinned her wrists above her head, his grip firm, possessive. V’s mind went blank when he shifted, his weight pressing her into the mattress.

River’s free hand was everywhere—tracing the curves of her body, grabbing at her waist, squeezing tight enough to bruise. His lips moved lower, igniting fire in her skin as he kissed a line down to her chest. When his tongue flicked out and teased the edge of her nipple, she bucked beneath him.

"Shit," she breathed, biting back a moan as he took it in his mouth, sucking, relentless. "River…"

He let go just long enough to growl, "You got no clue how crazy you make me."

The words were rough, raw with desire. She felt herself unraveling under him again, threads of control slipping between gasps and his name on her lips.

When he released her hands to brace himself above her, she tangled them in his hair, pulling him back up for another kiss that was more teeth than lips. She could taste herself on him—something primal that made heat coil low in her stomach.

River groaned into it, rolling his hips against hers until she cried out against his mouth. Her nails raked down his back when he moved again, sliding one hand between them.

V didn’t even try to hold back the noises spilling out of her as his fingers found their target—too much and not enough all at once. He watched her fall apart with a look that was pure, unfiltered need.

"Goddamn," he muttered when she shuddered beneath him. "You’re perfect."

Her laugh was breathless, shaky; she dragged him down by the neck until their foreheads touched. "Then fuck me like you mean it."

River didn’t hesitate. Didn’t hold back.

He pushed into her slowly at first—just enough to make them both groan from the pressure building between them—before setting a pace that made V see stars.

She wrapped her legs around his hips, urging him deeper, faster; clinging to him like he was the only thing keeping her anchored. Each thrust sent shockwaves through them both—his name on her lips over and over as the world dissolved around them.

He drove into her harder when she gasped it brokenly one last time; when she tightened around him so fiercely he thought he’d lose himself entirely. They were both shaking and breathless when V finally went limp beneath him—a satisfied whimper escaping as River followed right after with a low, wrecked sound torn from deep inside.

They stayed tangled together like that for what felt like forever.

Neither of them moved until River’s arms gave out and he collapsed beside her—pulling V against him with a possessive urgency that hadn’t faded at all.

"Damn," V finally said between heavy breaths; dizzy from everything they’d done and already aching for more. "Think you might’ve killed me this time."

River chuckled softly but didn’t loosen his grip—not even close.

"Not gonna happen," he murmured against the top of her head; voice still raw with intent.

***

River woke up to the soft glow of early morning light filtering through the blinds, casting golden streaks across his bedroom. The sheets were warm, tangled around his legs, and the faint scent of V’s perfume—something sweet with a sharp edge—still clung to his skin.

He let out a slow breath, his body aching in the best way possible.

And then he felt her.

V was still curled up against him, her bare back pressed to his side, platinum-white hair spilling over the pillow in wild, careless waves. Her breathing was deep and steady, lips parted slightly, still swollen from last night’s desperation.

River turned his head, watching her.

Shit.

She looked so damn perfect like this—relaxed, soft, peaceful in a way he rarely ever saw her. The sharp edges she carried when awake, the fire, the teasing smirks—right now, they were gone. She was just V.

The woman who had wrecked him last night.

His chest tightened.

He had no regrets—none—but something uneasy gnawed at the edges of his thoughts. Where was this going?

V was the kind of person who burned bright, burned fast. She didn’t do attachment. At least, that’s what he had assumed.

But last night hadn’t been just sex. Not for him.

River swallowed hard, his hand brushing along her bare shoulder, fingers tracing the smooth skin lightly. Was this just physical for her?

Would she be gone by the time night fell again?

He exhaled through his nose, forcing the thoughts away. Right now, she was here. And for now, that was enough.

He leaned down, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to her forehead.

V stirred slightly, mumbling something in her sleep before shifting deeper into the pillow. River smirked. Even asleep, she had a way of making his chest ache. 

With a deep breath, he reached for his holo, checking for messages while trying—and failing—not to think about last night.

[Joss K.]

You alive? 🤨

River smirked slightly, shaking his head before typing back:

[River W.]

Yeah. I’m good.

Joss’s reply was immediate.

[Joss K.]

Mmmhmm. 😏

River rolled his eyes. She didn’t even have to ask—she knew.

Then another message popped up:

[Harold Han]

You planning on showing up to work today?

River sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. He hadn't meant to ghost the force, but after last night, after V, the weight of everything—his job, the badge, the shit with IA—felt like something he could deal with later.

He typed a quick "I'll check in soon" and closed the holo, tossing it onto the nightstand.

Carefully, he slipped out of bed, running a hand through his messy hair before pulling on a pair of sweatpants. His body was sore, satisfied, but another need was starting to creep in.

Coffee. And food.

After last night, they’d both need it.

He made his way into the kitchen, stretching his arms as he moved, then started the coffee machine, the rich scent filling the air almost immediately. He pulled open the fridge—synth-eggs, some pre-cooked meat, bread—nothing fancy, but enough to make something decent. He make some mental note to go groceries shopping soon.

As he cracked eggs into a pan, he let his mind drift back to her.

His hands on her hips. The way she whispered his name like it was the only thing that mattered. The way she looked at him, wild and desperate, like she wanted to consume him whole.

His grip on the spatula tightened. Shit.

The problem wasn’t last night. The problem was he already wanted more.

And that? That was dangerous.

The smell of coffee and something warm, buttery, and slightly sweet drifted through the apartment, stirring V from deep, heavy sleep. She blinked, her vision adjusting to the soft glow of morning light filtering through the blinds. The bed beside her was empty, but the lingering warmth on the sheets told her he hadn’t been gone long.

She stretched, feeling the delicious ache in her muscles, the telltale soreness of a night well spent. A lazy grin spread across her lips before she let her head fall back against the pillow.

Fuck.

Last night had been… something else. Raw. Hungry. Almost desperate. Like they’d both been holding back for too damn long and finally snapped.

She exhaled through her nose, tilting her head slightly—only to see Johnny Silverhand leaning against the wall, arms crossed, expression thoroughly unimpressed.

“I can’t believe you made me fuck a cop.”

V snorted, rubbing her eyes before giving him a smirk. “Technically, I did all the work.”

Johnny scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Yeah, and I had a front-row seat. You got no shame, V.”

She just shrugged, pushing herself upright, letting the sheets pool around her waist. Her gaze drifted across the room, taking in River’s space for the first time in the light.

For a bachelor pad, it was surprisingly clean. Minimalistic, neat, no clutter—except for his desk, which was a goddamn mess.

Stacks of paper, folders, case files. Reports half-scribbled on, post-its stuck to different pages.

V arched a brow. “Shit, looks like he never clocks out.”

Johnny scoffed again. “Of course he doesn’t. Guy breathes justice and due process.” He gestured vaguely toward the desk. “You sure you wanna get tangled up in all that?”

V didn’t answer.

Instead, her eyes locked onto the vinyl records stacked by the bookcase.

She slid out of bed, padding across the room, fingers brushing the dust-covered cases. David Bowie. The Stones. Fleetwood Mac.

Johnny made a sound of disbelief. “Jesus, V, I think this guy is even older than me.”

She grinned, flipping through the records. “Well, I like old.” She glanced toward the kitchen, eyes lingering on River’s broad bare back, the flex of his arms as he flipped pancakes.

Her stomach flipped.

And I like him.

Memories flooded back all at once—his weight against her, his hands gripping her hips, the way he had groaned her name against her throat.

She bit her lip, heat creeping up her spine.

Johnny let out a dramatic gagging sound. “You’re fucking lovestruck.”

V ignored him.

She let the record slip back into place before slowly approaching River from behind.

The kitchen was warm, filled with the rich scent of coffee and frying batter. River stood at the stove, back still turned, focused on the pan in front of him.

V didn’t say a word.

Instead, she slid her arms slowly around his waist from behind, pressing her bare chest against the warm skin of his back.

River exhaled slowly, his grip on the spatula tightening as V’s lips brushed against his shoulder.

It was too early for this.

Or maybe not early enough.

She was pressed against his back, bare skin warm against his, fingers tracing slow, lazy patterns along his stomach—just teasing enough to make his breath hitch.

"V..." His voice came out rough, a warning, but there was no real weight behind it.

She smirked against his skin. "What? I'm just saying good morning."

Her hands slid lower, nails scraping lightly against his hipbone.

River gritted his teeth. She was trying to kill him.

He flipped the last pancake onto the plate and set the pan aside, reaching for the coffee—a desperate attempt to ground himself—but the second he moved, V pressed closer, her arms tightening around his waist.

Fuck.

River felt everything. The soft curves of her body, the way her breath hitched when he tensed beneath her touch.

His pulse pounded in his ears.

V rested her chin against his shoulder, her green eyes flicking down at his hand gripping the counter. "You tense, detective."

River smirked, shaking his head. "You gonna let me make breakfast, or you got other plans?"

V hummed, dragging her lips along the side of his neck, slow, lingering. "I mean... I'm kinda hungry. But not sure it's for pancakes."

River cursed under his breath.

His free hand shot back, gripping her thigh, fingers digging into bare skin, feeling the warmth of her against him. She let out a small, breathy sound—barely a whimper, but enough to send a sharp jolt straight through him.

"V..." His voice was low now, almost dangerous. "You really wanna start something you can’t finish?"

She grinned, nipping at the sensitive spot just beneath his ear. "Who says I can’t finish?"

River snapped.

He turned fast, gripping her hips, lifting her onto the counter in one swift motion.

She gasped, laughing as her legs instinctively wrapped around his waist.

His hands gripped her thighs, pushing them apart, his gaze dark, burning.

"You're gonna be the death of me, you know that?"

V smirked, running her fingers through his messy hair. "Wouldn't be the worst way to go, would it?"

River huffed a laugh, shaking his head, but the way his grip tightened on her told her he was already losing the battle.

His eyes flickered to her lips—ruined from last night, still swollen, still too damn tempting.

V tilted her head, teasing. "You gonna kiss me or just stand there looking pretty?"

River didn’t hesitate.

He crashed his mouth against hers, rough, deep, desperate.

She moaned into the kiss, fingers tightening in his hair, pulling him even closer.

He growled, hands sliding up her thighs, thumbs teasing along her inner legs—just enough to make her shiver.

The kiss turned hotter, sloppier, like they had unfinished business from last night.

River pulled back just enough to whisper, "Breakfast can wait."

V grinned, breathless. "Knew you'd see it my way."

And just like that—morning got a little more... distracting.

***

Eventually, they made it to breakfast.

River sat across from V at the small dining table, shirtless, hair a complete mess, bruises from last night barely hidden beneath the low collar of his sweatpants.

V wasn’t much better. She sat there in his oversized hoodie, the sleeves hanging over her hands, looking like she had no plans of giving it back.

She smirked as she chewed on a pancake. "Gotta admit, detective, you make a mean breakfast."

River scoffed, cutting into his own plate. "Surprised?"

She shrugged. "A little. Thought you’d be more of a ‘grab a burrito and call it a day’ kinda guy."

River huffed a laugh. "Normally, yeah. But you wrecked me last night—felt like I owed you a good meal after that."

V grinned, swallowing down her coffee. "I’ll keep that in mind next time."

River paused at that—fork lingering mid-air. Next time.

His gaze flicked up to her, watching the way she leaned back in the chair, looking at home in his kitchen like she belonged there. That thought sat heavy in his chest. River wasn’t a man who believed in luck, but sitting here, watching her steal the last bite of pancake from his plate with a smug little smirk—he was starting to think maybe he was the luckiest son of a bitch alive.

But that feeling came with something else—unease.

Because he didn’t know where this was going. Didn’t know if it was just physical, if it was just something fun for her. He needed to know.

So he put down his fork, exhaled, and said, "V... what are we doing?"

The second the words left his mouth, he saw it.

That slight shift in her expression. The way her shoulders tensed just a fraction before she forced herself to relax. Like she knew this conversation was coming.

She set down her coffee cup, fingers curling around it. "We’re eating pancakes. Thought that was obvious."

Deflection.

River shook his head. "V..." His voice was soft, steady. "You know what I mean."

V licked her lips, hesitating. She didn’t break eye contact, but he could see her gears turning—trying to figure out how much to say.

Finally, she exhaled, leaning back in the chair. "You wanna know if this is something real."

River didn’t answer. He didn’t need to.

V dragged a hand through her hair, pushing it back. "I ain't the kinda person who’s good at talking about shit like this, but… fuck, River, I need you to know something before you get in too deep."

She tapped her temple. "There’s something wrong with me."

River’s stomach twisted. He didn’t like the way she said that.

V let out a bitter little laugh, shaking her head. "Guess I should start at the beginning, huh?" She exhaled, voice quieter. "A few months ago, I took a gig. Simple heist. Smash and grab at Konpeki Plaza."

River frowned. "Arasaka’s place?"

V nodded. "Yeah. Turned into a fucking mess. Jackie and I—we got our hands on something we weren’t supposed to have. A prototype Relic, something high-grade corpo shit. Next thing I know? Jackie’s almost bleeding out in my arms, we’re on the run, thank god we got out before he flatlined, next think I know, I got a goddamn biochip in my head. "

River’s jaw clenched. He didn’t interrupt. Just listened.

V swallowed hard. "Thing is, that biochip? It's got a construct in it. Johnny Silverhand." She let out another sharp laugh, shaking her head. "Yeah, that Johnny Silverhand. And before you ask—no, I ain’t fucking crazy. He’s real. Like, real enough to talk to me, to take up space in my goddamn head."

River stared at her, processing.

V rubbed a hand over her face. "It’s killing me, River. The chip—it's rewriting my engram, replacing me with him. And there ain't no 'off' switch. No cure. Vik says I got weeks. Maybe months if I’m lucky."

Her voice wavered for just a second. "Jackie, Vik, the Aldecaldos—everyone’s trying to help. But it ain't simple. Every day, I wake up wondering if it's my last. If I'll still be me tomorrow. And I ain't got answers. Ain't got some neat little plan that'll fix this."

She finally looked at him, eyes glassy, raw, searching.

"So if you’re asking where this is going? I wish I could tell you. I wish I could say we got all the time in the world, that this is gonna be something simple. But it ain’t. I don’t even know if I get a future, River."

River let out a slow, controlled breath, his hands curling into fists against the table. He had no words.

She sniffed, shaking her head, laughing softly. "And to top it off? Johnny fucking hates you."

River blinked. "What?"

V smirked, wiping at her eyes. "Yeah, he’s got a thing against cops. You should’ve heard him this morning. Stood there, leaning against the wall, arms crossed like some judgmental asshole, and said, 'I can’t believe you made me fuck a cop.'"

River barked out a laugh, shaking his head. "Jesus Christ."

V grinned, a little watery. "Yeah. He’s a fucking delight."

River let the moment settle, let her words sink in. Then, after a beat, he asked, "Was he... there? Last night?"

V made a face. "God, no. Took a bunch of blockers before things got interesting. No way in hell I was letting him watch."

River exhaled, relieved. "Good. 'Cause that’d be some next-level weird shit."

V laughed, and it was real this time.

But then River reached across the table, taking her hand in his.

Her laughter died down.

River held her gaze, his voice low, serious. "V, I don’t care how fucked up this situation is. I don’t care what’s in your head. You’re still you. And I still want this."

V sucked in a sharp breath. "Even knowing how messy it is? How much of a goddamn disaster I am?"

River squeezed her hand. "Yeah. Even then."

Her lip trembled, and she cursed under her breath, blinking quickly. "Damn it, Ward, you got a bad habit of making a girl feel something."

River smirked. "Guess you’re stuck with me, then."

V chuckled, shaking her head. "Not stuck. Just... lucky."

River leaned in slightly, teasing. "You sure? 'Cause Johnny sure as hell ain’t gonna make this easy for me."

V groaned. "Oh, trust me, he won’t. He’s gonna bitch about it every step of the way."

River chuckled, finally letting go of her hand. "Then I guess I better make it worth it."

V grinned. "Oh, you already did, detective."

River smirked. "Good. Now I think we both need a nice relaxing bath."

Steam curled around them, the sound of water hitting tile filling the small space.

River stood beneath the spray, hands braced against the shower wall, eyes closed as warm water cascaded down his broad back. V stood just behind him, fingers tracing idle patterns over the hard planes of his back, feeling the tension in his muscles beneath her touch.

She smirked, voice husky from sleep. "Y'know, for a guy who spends all day chasing bad guys, you got a lotta knots in your back. You sure you ain't just gettin' old?"

River let out a low chuckle, tilting his head slightly. "Keep talking, and I'll remind you exactly how much stamina I’ve got."

V grinned, pressing up against him, letting her nails scrape lightly down his spine. "Tempting, detective, but I think you already made your point last night."

River turned then, water dripping down his face, dark eyes locking onto hers. He reached out, fingers sliding into her wet platinum-white hair, brushing it back from her face. Her green eyes looked brighter under the dim bathroom light, lips still a little swollen from last night’s bruising kisses.

She was a goddamn sight.

His thumb brushed along her cheek, then down to her lips, where the faintest trace of smudged lipstick still lingered.

V smirked against his touch. "Y'know, if you keep looking at me like that, we're never getting out of this shower."

River exhaled through his nose, stepping back slightly with a teasing smirk. "As much as I’d love to see what round three looks like, we should probably eat something more than just each other."

V pouted, but grabbed the soap anyway, lazily running it over her arms. "Fine. But you’re cooking again."

River chuckled. "Demanding."

She winked. "You like it."

River didn’t argue.

Chapter Text

After drying off and throwing on one of River’s oversized shirts—which smelled exactly like him—V sprawled out on his couch, hair still damp, legs stretched out comfortably.

River stood in the kitchen, shirtless, towel slung over his shoulder as he fixed them both another round of coffee. V watched him from the couch, her gaze tracing over the flex of muscle in his arms, the deep scars on his skin that spoke of years in the NCPD.

She let out a small sigh, finally pulling out her holo to check her messages.

A few unread gigs. Some corpo wanted someone “neutral” to mediate a deal. A fixer in Japantown had a gang problem that needed handling. Nothing urgent.

Then came the personal messages:

[Misty O.] 

So? How’d the date go? Are you still alive? Was it steamy? 👀🔥

[Panam P.] 

Well?? Details, V. Or I swear to hell I’ll come to the city and shake it out of you myself.

V snorted, shaking her head. Nosy, the both of them.

Then her eyes landed on the missed call from Jackie.

And a single message from Vik.

[Viktor V.]

Heard you had a “big night.” Just don’t push too hard, kid. Take it slow. Don't forget protection.

V narrowed her eyes. Either Misty had run straight to Vik with the gossip, or Jackie had a death wish.

River walked over then, placing a steaming mug of coffee in front of her, eyebrow quirking at her amused expression. "What?"

V just held up her holo, shaking it slightly. "Either my ripperdoc or my best choom is too invested in my sex life. Or both."

River took a sip of his own coffee, smirking. "Guess I made an impression."

V grinned, scrolling back to the missed call. "Jackie called too. Wonder if he was checking to see if I was still breathing."

River raised an eyebrow. "He’s protective."

"Yeah." V hesitated, her smirk softening into something more fond. "He’s family."

River studied her for a moment, then nodded, as if he understood exactly what she meant.

V sighed, tossing her holo onto the coffee table before stretching her arms above her head. "Alright, detective. What’s the plan for today? You taking me in for questioning, or are we just lazing around?"

River chuckled, shaking his head. "Lazing sounds good."

V grinned, patting the couch beside her. "Then get over here, Ward. You make a great pillow."

River smirked, but he didn’t argue.

The rest of the day slipped by in a slow, easy haze of warmth, soft touches, and stolen kisses.

Neither of them had anywhere to be. No responsibilities, no cases, no gigs—just each other, tangled in sheets, wrapped up in lazy limbs, talking in hushed tones between moments of comfortable silence.

River had never done this before.

Not like this.

Sure, he’d had relationships. But they were always fast, fleeting—never a moment to breathe, to just exist with someone.

But with V?

It was different. She was different.

They ordered takeout for dinner—some good, greasy Chinese from a local spot River swore by. V teased him about his obsession with dumplings, claiming she was starting to think he loved them more than her. River just smirked, popping one into her mouth before she could finish the joke.

They sat at his small kitchen table, boxes of food spread between them, bare feet brushing under the table.

V looked… soft.

Still wearing his oversized shirt, hair a mess of platinum and black, eyes slightly hooded from the day spent doing nothing but lying around with him.

River watched her for a long moment before finally speaking. "So… what’s your story, V?"

She paused, chopsticks hovering over her plate.

"What do you wanna know?"

River shrugged. "Whatever you wanna tell me."

V leaned back in her chair, swirling her drink in thought before exhaling slowly.

"Alright, detective. Here’s a scoop you won’t find in your fancy police databases."

River smirked. "Oh? Should I be taking notes?"

V chuckled. Then, her expression softened.

"Valerie."

River blinked. "Huh?"

She looked at him then, something unguarded, vulnerable in her gaze.

"My real name. Valerie DiLucca."

River’s brows raised slightly. "Valerie, huh? Suits you."

V snorted. "Yeah, well, no one calls me that anymore. Just V."

She took a sip of her drink, gaze flickering away for a second before continuing.

"My parents worked for Arasaka. High-level shit. They were… successful. Important. Which, in Night City, doesn’t always mean much."

River stayed silent, listening intently.

"I was practically a trust fund baby. Or, y'know, nepo baby if you wanna be a dick about it." She gave a wry smile. "Lived in a fancy house, went to a fancy boarding school. My biggest problem back then was whether my uniform skirt was too long."

Her voice turned quieter.

"Then… they died. I was sixteen."

River’s chest tightened. "Shit, V…"

She waved a hand. "It was a car accident. At least, that’s what they told me. But my parents were working on some high-security project. Some deep Arasaka shit. Maybe that’s what got them killed. Maybe it really was just bad luck. I’ll never know."

She took a deep breath. "I wasn’t even there. I was stuck at school, halfway across the country. The second I heard, I bolted—stole a car, gunned it straight back home. Got my first speeding ticket that night."

River chuckled softly. "Somehow, I’m not surprised."

V smirked, but her eyes held something else. A weight. A memory.

"After that, I did what I had to. Graduated. Landed a job at Arasaka." She let out a bitter laugh. "I mean, what else was I supposed to do? I grew up in that world. It was all I knew."

River nodded, already knowing where this was going.

"Then the fallout happened."

V exhaled. "Yeah. Worked my ass off, climbed the ranks, but… Arasaka? It eats you alive. Found out the hard way when they threw me under the goddamn bus. One minute, I was a rising star. Next? Framed for a deal gone bad, my own boss stabbing me in the back."

She met River’s gaze, something dark, raw flickering in her green eyes.

"I lost everything. My job. My cushy apartment. My whole fucking life. My parents, for all their corpo loyalty, weren’t stupid. They planned for everything, even their own deaths. Left me an inheritance. Enough to keep me on my feet after the fallout."

She exhaled. "But the reason I became a merc? That was revenge. Something in me just… wouldn’t accept that they simply ‘died.’ That it was all just a tragic accident. Maybe it was paranoia. Maybe it was the truth. But I needed to know."

Her fingers tapped idly against the table.

"Jackie and his family were my saving grace. They took me in when I had nowhere to go. Nothing to hold on to."

A small, sad smile crossed her lips. "Jackie used to say, ‘Revenge is a fool’s game.’ Maybe he was right. But it’s the only game I knew how to play back then."

River stayed silent, his expression unreadable. Then, finally, he spoke.

"And now? You still playing?"

V considered that for a moment before shaking her head. "I dunno. Feels like I’ve got too much to lose now."

She glanced at him, eyes warm despite the weight of the conversation.

"Still wanna stick around for the sequel, detective?"

River didn’t hesitate.

"Yeah."

V blinked. "No second thoughts? No running for the hills?"

River smirked. "After last night? I’m already in too deep."

V chuckled, shaking her head before looking at him again, this time a little softer, a little more open.

"Thanks for listening."

River shrugged. "I like listening to you."

V grinned, then pushed a dumpling toward him. "Eat, detective. Or I'm gonna start thinking you only brought me here for my tragic backstory."

River rolled his eyes but took the bite, feeling something warm settle in his chest.

Something new. Something good.

And for the first time in a long, long while, River felt like he was exactly where he was meant to be. V leaned back in her chair, twirling the chopsticks between her fingers as she let herself slip into old memories.

"Y'know, for corpos, my parents weren’t so bad."

River arched a brow, intrigued. "That so?"

V smirked. "Surprised? Thought I was some neglected rich kid?"

River shrugged. "Wouldn’t be the first time I heard that story."

She chuckled, shaking her head. "Nah, they actually gave a shit. More than they probably should have, given the world they worked for." She glanced at River, a bit wistful. "They say I got my mom’s eyes and hair, but I got stuck with my dad’s nose."

River huffed a quiet laugh. "Lemme guess, you hated it?"

V grinned. "Oh, with a passion. But my mom? She always said it gave me character. That and the way I talked back to teachers."

River shook his head, smirking. "That part I believe."

V took a sip of her drink, gaze distant. "Even when I was stuck in boarding school, they always found time to visit me. Dad would fly in for a weekend, bring me whatever stupid thing I wanted. My mom? She was always trying to teach me something, like… something to keep me ahead of the game."

Her fingers tapped lightly against the table. "They were good people, River. I know how that sounds, but it’s true. Whatever Arasaka had them doing, it didn’t change who they were to me."

River nodded, letting her words sink in.

Then, her voice dropped just a little.

"I have a brother too. Alex. Or… I guess I had one. Don’t know if he’s dead or alive."

River stilled. "You never found out what happened to him?"

V shook her head. "After our parents died, Alex just… vanished. Gone. Like a ghost. Maybe he left the country. Maybe he wanted out of Night City for good. And honestly? I didn’t resent him for it. Not at first."

River frowned. "Not at first?"

V sighed, rolling her drink in her palm. "I hate him at first. God know I do. Can you imagine? Leaving your 16 years old sister just like that, all alone. Make me think I'm just some luggage he don't wanna carry. But...then get it, okay? He did what he had to do. He was a child himself back then. If I’m being honest, I probably should’ve done the same."

Her eyes flickered with something almost unreadable. "But that’s not who I am. I couldn’t let it go. I needed answers."

River watched her carefully, his jaw tight. "And if you found out the truth?"

V let out a breath, a wry smile playing on her lips. "Then maybe I wouldn’t be sitting here, sharing takeout with a cop."

River didn’t laugh. He just held her gaze, his expression unreadable.

V studied him for a moment before shaking her head, forcing a small smirk. "Guess it’s a good thing I never found those answers, huh?"

River finally exhaled, reaching across the table to steal one of her dumplings. "Yeah… guess so."

But as he chewed, his gaze lingered on her, like he was trying to piece her together—the sharp merc with a corpo past, the woman who carried her parents in the details no one else noticed.

"So that’s why you never changed your hair." His voice was softer now, thoughtful. "And your eyes... even after swapping to Kiroshi optics, you kept the same color."

V nodded. "It was my mom’s. The one thing that never had to change. The one thing I could still keep as mine."

Her fingers traced the bridge of her nose absentmindedly. "Even my nose, as much as I hated it, it’s the only piece of my dad I got left." She laughed, but there was something fragile in it. "Guess in some ways, I didn’t really want to let go."

River sat back, arms crossed, watching her. "You hold onto the things that matter. Ain’t nothing wrong with that."

V glanced at him, lips quirking. "Yeah? What about you? What do you hold onto?"

River exhaled, rubbing his jaw. "Guess I don’t have much left to hold onto."

V frowned slightly. "Joss? The kids? They’re still here."

River nodded. "Yeah, and I’d do anything for ‘em. But sometimes, it feels like the things I held onto the hardest just... slipped away anyway."

His words sat between them for a moment. There was a weight in them, something he didn’t say outright, but V understood. He’d lost things too. Maybe not the same way she had, but enough to know what it felt like.

V nudged his foot lightly under the table. "Guess that means we’re both stubborn, huh?"

River snorted. "Yeah, I’d say that’s about right."

River leaned back in his chair, arms crossed over his broad chest as he let V’s words settle. It was a lot—more than he’d ever expected to learn about her in one night. But he was glad she told him.

And maybe… it was his turn now.

He exhaled, picking up his drink, swirling the amber liquid before taking a slow sip.

"Guess it’s only fair I share, huh?"

V smirked, propping her chin on her palm. "You don’t have to. But I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t curious, detective."

River huffed out a soft laugh before setting his drink down. He rubbed the back of his neck, gaze flickering toward the window, as if gathering his thoughts.

"Joss and I—our parents ran a small farm, back before the corps swallowed up everything." His jaw tensed slightly, fingers tapping against the table. "Didn’t last. Eventually, they had to shut it down. Tried running a grocery store instead. Wasn’t much, but we made do."

V tilted her head slightly, sensing there was more.

River exhaled slowly, rubbing a hand over his face.

"One night, some junked-up thugs broke in, looking for cash. When they didn’t find any in the register, they came upstairs—into our home."

V’s smirk faded instantly.

River’s voice dropped lower, more controlled, but she could hear the edge in it.

"They demanded more money. My dad swore we didn’t have anything else. Didn’t matter. One of ‘em shot him right there, in front of us." His fingers curled into a fist. "Then they put the gun in my hand. Pointed it at my mom. Told me to pull the trigger."

V’s breath hitched slightly, eyes widening.

River’s gaze flickered to her briefly, but he kept going.

"I couldn’t do it. Just stood there, frozen. Thought maybe if I stalled long enough, someone would come. Maybe they’d leave. Maybe something." He let out a bitter chuckle. "Didn’t matter. Bastard got bored, took the gun back, and killed her himself. Left me and Joss alone."

Silence.

V stared at him, heart heavy. "River…"

He shook his head, taking another drink, letting the burn settle in his throat. "NCPD never found ‘em. Never even tried that hard. Just another case, another couple bodies in Night City." He scoffed. "Guess that’s when I knew—I had to do something. Make sure no one else ended up like us. Thought maybe if I became a cop, I could change something."

V let out a slow breath. "And? Have you?"

River tilted his head, considering. "Not sure yet. Still trying to figure that out."

She nodded slowly, then, with a teasing glint in her eye, she gestured at him. "Y’know, I’m starting to think you’re the real nepo baby here, River Ward. All that ‘protect and provide’ instinct? Born for it."

River rolled his eyes but couldn’t fight the small smile pulling at his lips. "Yeah, yeah. Laugh it up."

V grinned, but her fingers brushed lightly against his hand again—a silent reminder that she understood. That she was listening.

The night stretched on, filled with soft conversations, teasing remarks, and the kind of warmth neither of them had felt in too long.

And for the first time in years, River felt like maybe—just maybe—he wasn’t carrying it all alone anymore.

After the heavy conversation, the two of them settled into an easy, comfortable quiet. The kind that only came when you didn’t feel the need to fill the silence with meaningless words.

River stretched out on the couch, one arm draped over the back, while V curled up next to him, feet tucked beneath her. She had stolen one of his shirts—because after last night, why the hell not?—and he had to admit, seeing her in his clothes was doing something to him.

"So," he started, nudging her side lightly. "Movie?"

V smirked, grabbing the remote. "You got shit taste in movies, detective?"

River huffed out a laugh. "Depends. If you ask Joss, she’d say yeah. But she also thinks those old pre-4th Corporate War romcoms are peak cinema, so I don’t trust her judgment."

V snorted. "Fine. You pick, then. But if it sucks, I’m never letting you live it down."

River rolled his eyes, scrolling through the selection before finally settling on some old noir crime flick. Something about a detective getting tangled up with a femme fatale. Fitting.

They watched in comfortable silence, the occasional comment from V about how predictable the plot was, or River pointing out how inaccurate the detective work was. At some point, she shifted, resting her head against his shoulder. River stilled for a moment, then let his arm drop, resting loosely around her waist.

Felt… right.

"Y’know," V murmured after a while, "I was thinking."

River raised a brow. "Dangerous."

She elbowed him lightly. "Shut up. I mean, I was thinking about Mama Welles. About… properly introducing you."

River glanced down at her, amused. "Pretty sure we already met, V. Or did you forget how she was about two seconds from smacking me with a frying pan the first time?"

V laughed, tipping her head back. "Yeah, well. That was different. That was you showing on her doorstep after Jackie and I trashed her living room....which is cause by you bit..." She tilted her head slightly, looking at him. "This would be… different."

River’s gaze softened slightly. He nodded. "Alright. If I’m meeting your family, seems only fair you do the same."

V arched a brow. "So what, Joss and the kids? Or do you have other secret family stash somewhere?"

River smirked. "Mhm. You agreed too fast—I might just bring you to one of the big family barbecues. Whole extended family."

V groaned dramatically. "Shit. If I knew I was signing up for that, I’d have kept my mouth shut."

River laughed, squeezing her waist slightly. "Too late now."

V huffed, but her smirk gave her away. "Fine. Deal. But don’t blame me when your family starts asking when I’m making an honest man out of you."

River snorted. "Joss is gonna love you."

V leaned against him a little more, smiling. And for the first time in a long time, it felt like things were moving toward something more. Something real.

Chapter Text

A few days had passed since V had last seen River. Since that night at Joss’ trailer, the only thing keeping them connected were a steady stream of flirty texts and daily updates. She got it—he had his hands full getting things ready for Randy’s return home from the hospital. And while part of her missed the easy heat of his presence, she was too caught up in her own shit to dwell on it.

The gigs kept rolling in. Between tracking down leads on the relic, dealing with the never-ending gonk jobs fixers threw her way, and trying to keep up with Takemura’s insane plans, V barely had time to breathe.

That old man would be the death of her.

Every time she thought they had a solid lead, he had some new brilliant scheme that usually ended with her either dodging bullets or sneaking into places no choom in their right mind would step into. And for what? Blank promises. No concrete answers. The relic was still rotting her brain, and he hadn’t given her a single goddamn reason to believe that Arasaka will actually fix it.

She wasn’t keen on doing their dirty work, but at this point, options were running thin.

Today, though, she had no plans. Just a rare moment of quiet as she weaved through Night City’s chaotic streets, engine growling beneath her as the skyline blurred past. For once, no bullets, no explosions. Just me, the city, and—

Her holo rang, cutting through the hum of the radio. Elizabeth Peralez.

V frowned, tapping her earpiece. Didn’t think I’d hear from them again.

“V, thank god,” Elizabeth’s voice came through, tight with tension. “It’s urgent. Can you come to our penthouse?”

V exhaled, gripping the wheel a little tighter. “That bad?”

“Worse.”

Shit. She had a gut feeling this was more serious than their last gig together.

“Alright, I’m on my way,” V said, then paused. “You mind if I bring backup? Got a choom I’d like to tag along. Two heads are better than one.”

Elizabeth hesitated, then sighed. “Fine. Just be careful.”

“Always.”

V cut the call and immediately dialed the next number. It barely rang before the familiar voice came through.

“Chica! Been too long. Don’t tell me you forgot about your number one partner in crime.”

V smirked, already making a sharp turn toward Heywood. “Jackie. Got a gig. Thought you’d wanna tag along.”

“You know I’m in. Where we headed?”

“The Peralezes.”

A low whistle. “Oh shit. Think it’s got something to do with that last mess?”

“Wouldn’t be calling if it wasn’t.”

“Damn. Alright, lemme grab my gear. Where should we meet?”

“I'll ping you the coords. See you there.”

V ended the call, her grip firm on the wheel as she sped toward the meeting point. Something about this felt off. But then again, when did anything in Night City ever feel right?

One way or another, she was about to find out.

Elizabeth greeted them at the door, her usual poise laced with tension. Jackie gave her an easy nod as they followed her inside, eyes sweeping over the luxurious apartment. The place reeked of money—every piece of furniture, every inch of the floor was curated for perfection. But that wasn’t the issue.

The issue was the way Elizabeth looked at them, the way her eyes darted toward her husband, who sat slumped on the couch.

Jefferson was already waiting in the living room, his face drawn. The man looked worse than before—dark circles under his eyes, the slight tremor in his fingers as he rubbed his temples.

“Few nights ago, I woke up to an intruder in our apartment,” he said, his voice tight with frustration. “I shot him. But then... I blacked out. Next thing I knew, I was in bed, and SSI swears nothing happened.”

V exchanged a look with Jackie. That was bad. Real bad.

“Let’s check it out,” she said, keeping her voice steady.

Elizabeth led them on a brief tour before leaving them to investigate freely. The place was pristine—too pristine. Jackie nudged her as they passed a diploma on the wall. “Hey, recognize that name? Asukaga-Berkeley. Fancy.”

V scanned it but kept moving, digging through the apartment’s details. Something was off about Elizabeth’s memory. She swore Jefferson never smoked, but V had seen him with a cigarette. The wedding roses? She said blue, but the photo showed red. A message on a terminal mentioned Jefferson’s failing memory. Not good.

A deeper dive into the security room’s computer revealed something even worse—SSI was aware of the break-in. They were covering it up.

“V, check this out,” Jackie called, pointing to a hallway upstairs. Scans revealed patched-up bullet holes, scrubbed blood residues leading toward a broken smart glass panel. V repaired it, only to get a jolt that made Johnny flicker beside her, cursing. Elizabeth noticed nothing.

Following the trail, they reached a hidden door. V forced it open with a grunt, revealing a secret surveillance room monitoring the Peralezes without their knowledge. Elizabeth clutched her head, dizzy. V frowned but pressed on, scanning the strange computer. A signal cable led to the roof.

Outside, an old Militech transmitter blinked in the moonlight. “Looks ancient,” Johnny muttered. “Like the ones from the war.”

V traced its signal to a van parked in Japantown. Jackie cracked his knuckles. “Time for some action, hermana.”

They hit the road, catching up to the van just as it peeled out. A high-speed chase led them to a Maelstrom hideout. Jackie went in first, clearing the way with brutal efficiency while V slipped in through the scaffolds. One by one, they took down the gonks inside.

On one agent, V found a shard labeled Project Condin. A quick scan revealed something nightmarish: personality manipulation, memory wipes—Jefferson and Elizabeth were being reprogrammed. Before V could download the data, it deleted itself remotely.

“Someone’s watching,” Johnny muttered darkly.

V called Elizabeth. “We need to talk. Now.” V asked Jackie to head home first, saying she would take care of the rest.

They met at a ramen shop in Yagami Market, tucked away in a narrow alley bathed in neon light. The smell of broth and sizzling meat filled the air, but neither of them was in the mood to eat. Elizabeth sat stiffly across from V, her fingers wrapped around a steaming cup of tea she hadn’t taken a sip from. Her normally sharp features were dulled by exhaustion, her eyes distant, haunted.

“I know Jefferson’s changing,” she finally said, voice barely above a whisper. “I think I am, too.” Her fingers twitched slightly against the ceramic cup. “He can’t know, V.”

V studied her, searching for any trace of hesitation. The woman in front of her was unraveling, strands of her carefully constructed life fraying at the edges.

V’s jaw tightened. “You sure about that?”

Elizabeth inhaled sharply, looking away as if afraid to meet V’s gaze. “He wouldn’t take it well,” she admitted, a flicker of something like fear crossing her face. “If he starts asking questions, if he realizes how deep this goes...” She shook her head. “I don’t know what would happen.”

Later that night, V made her way to Reconciliation Park, the city's distant hum drowned by the rustling of the wind through skeletal trees. The artificial lake reflected the glow of neon advertisements flickering in the distance, distorted by ripples in the water. Jefferson was already there, standing rigid near the railing, his silhouette outlined against the cold glow of streetlights.

He turned at the sound of her footsteps, exhaustion written into every crease of his face. "V," he greeted, voice low, wary. "Did you find anything?"

V opened her mouth, but before she could speak, her optics glitched. A sharp static hiss crawled into her ears, followed by a distorted voice, cold and disembodied: Don’t cross the line.

Her vision blurred. The edges of Jefferson’s form pulsed and warped as if something unseen was reaching into her mind, adjusting, erasing. Then—silence. The glitch passed as quickly as it came, leaving her breathless.

Jefferson frowned. "V? You alright?"

She hesitated, fighting the urge to rub her temples. "Yeah. Just... tired."

She wanted to tell him. The words burned in her throat. The SSI was corrupt, Holt was paying them off—hell, the entire system was stacked against him. But something deep in her gut screamed at her to stop. Whoever was pulling the strings had eyes everywhere.

So she swallowed the truth.

Jefferson exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair before slamming his fist against the cold metal railing. "This is fucked. Completely fucking fucked." His voice was rough, shaking with barely restrained fury. "They think they can screw with my goddamn life?" He turned, eyes burning with rage, his jaw clenched so tight V thought his teeth might crack. "No more games. No more bullshit. I’ll win the election, and then I’ll burn Holt and every single bastard behind this to the fucking ground."

V nodded, forcing a smirk she didn’t feel. "Yeah. Sounds like a plan."

But as she turned to leave, an eerie sensation crept up her spine, a prickling at the back of her neck like unseen eyes were drilling into her skull. The city lights seemed just a little dimmer, the night air colder, heavier—like the weight of something watching, waiting. Her instincts screamed at her to turn, to search the shadows, but she didn’t.

Instead, she heard Johnny’s voice beside her, quiet but firm. "Let it go, V. This ain't a fight we can win. Not against them."

She clenched her fists, jaw tightening—but she knew he was right. Whatever was out there, pulling the strings, was far beyond their reach.

This was far from over.

The ride home was rough—streets blurred past in neon streaks, the weight of the night pressing heavy against V’s shoulders. The Peralez gig had left a bad taste in her mouth, the kind that lingered long after the job was done. Too many unanswered questions, too many shadowy hands pulling the strings.

She exhaled through her nose, gripping the wheel a little tighter as the city hummed around her. Night City never sleeps, and neither do its ghosts.

Pulling into her parking space, she killed the engine and dragged herself to the elevator. The ride up felt longer than usual, the low hum of the machinery filling the silence in her head. Her reflection in the dull metal doors stared back at her—tired, but still standing.

The doors slid open with a soft chime. Stepping into her apartment, she immediately spotted Nibbles curled up on the counter. The cat lifted its head, stretching lazily before padding over with a soft purr. V smirked, grabbing a small packet of kibble from the cupboard and pouring some into the dish. “There. Enjoy, queen.”

The soft chime of her holo brought her attention back. A notification blinked in the corner of her vision—eddies transferred. The Peralezes paid up.

She smirked, scrolling through to find Jackie’s number.

[V]

Job’s done. Payment’s in.

[Jackie W.]

Nice. That means we celebrate.

[V]

Not tonight, big guy. I need a shower and maybe a bullet to the brain after all this conspiratorial bullshit.

[Jackie W.]

Aight, aight. Mañana then.

Shaking her head, she tossed the holo onto the couch and made her way to the bathroom. The hot water felt like heaven against her skin, steam curling around her as she let her muscles relax for the first time in what felt like days. The tension never truly left, but it was enough to take the edge off.

Just as she stepped out, towel wrapped around her, the holo buzzed again.

A message from River.

She opened it, and her lips curled into a soft smile. A picture of him, Joss, Randy, and the twins sitting around the dinner table. Randy looked exhausted but happy, his face finally free of that haunted look he’d worn for too long.

[River W.]

He’s back home now.

[V]

That’s good. I’ll drop by soon.

Still wrapped in towel, V sat at the end of her bed. This time, she sent another message.

[V]

You busy?

The reply was almost instant.

[River W.]

No. Why?

[V]

Would be nice if you were here.

There was a brief pause. Then—

[River W.]

Give me 10 minutes.

[V]

Can you please pick up some food too..I'm starving.

[River W.]

Okay, princess.

V grinned, tossing the towel aside. If he was making the effort to come all the way here, she might as well make it worth his while. Digging through her dresser, she pulled out something softer, silkier—something she knew would get a reaction out of him. The fabric clung in all the right places, cool against her skin as she adjusted the straps. She gave herself a quick once-over in the mirror before dimming the lights, letting the neon glow from the city outside bathe the apartment in soft, flickering hues. She took a blocker pill just so she won't here Johnny unnecessary comment throughout the night.

She dimmed the lights, allowing the neon glow from the city outside to seep into the apartment. The shifting hues of red and violet painted the space in an otherworldly glow, casting seductive shadows over her figure. Just as she draped herself onto the couch, settling in with a languid stretch, the elevator chimed. The doors slid open, revealing River, slightly breathless, carrying a takeout bag in one hand and drinks in the other, dressed in a white tee and sweatpants.

V smirked, arms folded as she leaned back. "Didn’t dress up for the night?"

River’s gaze roamed over her—slow, appreciative, heat flickering behind his eyes. His voice was rough when he answered, "Ain’t wearin’ it much longer."

V chuckled, pushing up from the couch. "Sounds fun, but let’s eat first. I’m starving."

"Yeah? You sure you wanna eat?" River teased, stepping inside and placing the food on the coffee table. His gaze flickered to her legs as she stretched out on the couch, her silk nightwear riding high on her thighs. He exhaled sharply. "Damn, V."

She grinned, knowing exactly what she was doing. "C’mon, big guy. You brought all this food, least we can do is eat first."

River sat beside her, opening the takeout containers, trying to focus on the meal, but his eyes kept drifting. She made a show of stretching again, her legs draping over his lap. He swallowed hard, his fingers tightening around his chopsticks.

"You enjoyin’ yourself?" he muttered.

V smirked, popping a dumpling into her mouth. "Mmm. Best meal I’ve had in days."

River let out a sharp breath, his fingers tightening around his chopsticks as he tried—really tried—to focus on opening the takeout containers. But every time she shifted, every time her knee brushed against his thigh, every time she licked sauce from her lip with an exaggerated slowness, he felt his resolve slipping.

Nibble, curled up beside him, gave a pointed chirp, nosing at his elbow. River barely spared the cat a glance before reaching over to scratch between her ears, but his attention snapped back to V when she let out a quiet, knowing chuckle.

"You enjoyin’ yourself?" he muttered, shooting her a look.

V smirked, plucking a dumpling between her fingers and popping it into her mouth. She let out a quiet, pleased sound, licking a drop of sauce from her thumb. "Mmm." She stretched again, dragging her toes up the inside of his calf, feeling the way his muscles tensed beneath his jeans. "I think I might need another round."

River’s grip on his chopsticks faltered. He swallowed hard, exhaling sharply through his nose. "Damn, V."

Her laughter was soft, teasing, but it dimmed slightly when his gaze sharpened. His amusement faded, replaced with something else—something more knowing. He set his food down, shifting slightly beneath her legs.

"Alright," he murmured, his voice lower now. "What’s really goin’ on, V? You don’t usually get this… needy."

Her smirk wavered. She hesitated, her fingers playing with the edge of her robe, suddenly hyperaware of the warmth of his hand resting on her thigh. He wasn’t just asking. He was seeing her.

She sighed, rolling her head back against the couch, staring at the ceiling for a long moment. Then, quietly, she said, "Been a hell of a day."

River didn’t push. He didn’t press. He simply gave her the space to speak, his hand a steady, grounding presence against her skin.

So she told him.

She told him about the Peralezes—the memory manipulation, the secret surveillance, the warning implanted in her head, urging her to stay quiet. She spoke of the unease curling in her gut, the way the shadows in the city suddenly felt heavier, more oppressive. As the words spilled out, River listened, his expression darkening with every revelation.

Nibble, sensing the shift, nosed at V’s wrist before curling in her lap, purring softly.

By the time she finished, River’s jaw was tight, his fingers curling slightly against her knee as though holding himself back from lashing out. His silence stretched, weighted, before he finally exhaled through his nose, shaking his head.

"Jesus, V." His voice was low, rough. "That’s messed up."

She let out a breath, running a hand through her hair. "Yeah."

River studied her, something unreadable flickering behind his eyes. Then, without a word, he leaned in, pressing a lingering, feather-light kiss to her temple. The simple gesture unraveled something tight in her chest.

"You need anything, you know you can call me. Right?" he murmured.

V smiled, softer now. "I know."

His hand trailed down her leg, fingers tracing slow, deliberate circles against her skin. The tension shifted, morphing into something else—something electric.

"Still hungry?" he murmured, his lips barely an inch from her ear.

V tilted her head, eyes glinting. "Not for food."

River let out a low chuckle, his fingers tightening just slightly. "Good." He pulled back just enough to meet her gaze, heat burning between them. "‘Cause I ain’t wearin’ this much longer."

V barely had a second to smirk before River moved.

His hands slid up her thighs, fingers spreading over the silk, pushing the fabric higher. His grip was firm—possessive—but his touch, slow, teasing. He exhaled sharply through his nose, his restraint hanging by a thread as he took in the way the dim city lights painted over her skin.

"You’ve been teasin’ me all night," he murmured, voice thick with heat. "How about I return the favor?"

V let out a soft, breathy chuckle, but it turned into a sharp inhale when his lips found her neck. The first kiss was slow, deliberate, a ghost of warmth against her skin. Then another, lower, rougher—his teeth grazing, tongue soothing, lips pressing harder, drawing a soft, needy sound from her throat.

"River—"

"Shh." His hands moved beneath the silk, exploring, mapping. "You started this. Now you’re gonna feel what it’s like."

His breath was hot against her collarbone, his hands steady but relentless as they roamed over her, teasing, skimming just close enough to drive her crazy.

V arched beneath him, gasping when his teeth found her pulse, when his fingers trailed up her thigh, slipping under the delicate fabric that barely covered her.

"You feel so damn good," he murmured, voice rough, strained. "Been thinkin’ about this since the second I walked in."

She smirked, even as her breath came shorter, heavier. "Then stop thinking and—"

River cut her off with his mouth, his kiss deep, consuming, a mix of heat and hunger and something that made her toes curl. His hands tightened on her, pulling her closer until there wasn’t an inch of space left between them.

Nibble, sensing the shift in energy, let out a soft chirp before hopping down from the couch, before wandering to the kitchen.

"Smart cat," River muttered against her lips.

V barely had time to laugh before he was on her again, hands sliding lower, lips traveling downward, breath hot against her skin. The tension coiled tight, the anticipation burning between them like wildfire.

River barely gave V a chance to catch her breath before he scooped her up, his hands firm beneath her thighs, lifting her with effortless strength. A surprised laugh escaped her, but it quickly turned into something else when he pressed her against the wall, his lips claiming hers in a deep, consuming kiss.

She tangled her fingers in his hair, tugging just enough to make him growl against her mouth, the sound sending a shiver straight down her spine.

"You always this impatient, big guy?" she teased, voice breathless.

His grip tightened, pressing her closer. "You’ve been drivin’ me crazy all night," he murmured against her skin, nipping at the sensitive spot just below her ear. "Now I ain’t holdin’ back."

With that, he carried her toward the stairs, his pace steady but deliberate, every step sending a thrill through her. The anticipation coiled tight between them, heat simmering, rising with every touch, every stolen breath.

By the time he laid her down on the bed, she was already pulling at his shirt, fingers dragging over firm muscle as she pushed it up, desperate to feel him. He let her, shucking it off and tossing it aside before leaning over her, bracing himself with one arm as his other hand skimmed up her thigh, pushing the silk higher.

"Still playin’ with fire, V?" His voice was low, teasing, but there was something darker underneath—something hungry.

She smirked, hooking a leg around his waist, pulling him down flush against her. "Guess you’ll just have to see if I can handle the heat."

River groaned, his restraint snapping as he captured her lips again, deeper this time, his hands moving with purpose, exploring, claiming. The city lights filtered through the window, casting their bodies in a soft neon glow as he took his time unraveling her, savoring every reaction, every sound. His breath came heavy, rough, as his eyes raking over her like he was seeing her for the first time all over again.

“Three days,” he muttered, voice thick with something dark, something hungry. His hands found her waist, sliding up, his thumbs brushing over soft, heated skin. “You know how bad I’ve wanted you?”

V smirked, but it wavered when his grip tightened, pulling her flush against him. “I might have an idea.”

River let out a low, guttural sound—half frustration, half reverence—before crushing his lips to hers. The kiss wasn’t slow, wasn’t teasing anymore. It was deep, raw, all-consuming, the kind that stole breath and sent fire licking down her spine.

She moaned into his mouth, tilting her head to take him deeper, to taste the heat and want that had been simmering between them for days. Her fingers traced the hard lines of his shoulders, his back, nails dragging just enough to make him hiss against her lips.

“Damn tease,” he growled, lifting her effortlessly, her legs wrapping around his waist on instinct. He carried her up the stairs, his lips never leaving hers, never giving her a moment to catch her breath. Every step sent delicious friction between them, heat coiling tight in her belly, her pulse a frantic rhythm against his.

By the time he reached the bed, they were both breathing hard, their bodies already flush with anticipation. He laid her down, hovering over her, his gaze drinking her in, as if memorizing the way the neon light painted over her skin.

V reached for him, but he caught her wrists, pinning them above her head with one hand. His other hand traced the silk of her nightwear, his fingers dragging down slowly, agonizingly, over the curve of her body.

“You have any idea how many times I thought about this?” he rasped, voice almost a growl. His lips ghosted over her jaw, down her throat, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses as he made his way lower. “Three damn days, V.” His teeth grazed her skin, his breath sending shivers through her. “You gonna make me wait any longer?”

She gasped, arching beneath him, desperate for more, for him. “No,” she breathed, her legs tightening around his waist. “Not a second more.”

That was all he needed.

River’s control shattered as he crashed back into her, their bodies molding together, the last of the space between them disappearing entirely. Hands roamed, mouths explored, every touch, every movement filled with aching hunger, as if they were trying to make up for every second they had spent apart.

His name left her lips in a broken whisper, her fingers gripping him tighter, nails raking over his back, dragging him closer. He groaned, his own name a curse on his tongue as he let himself drown in her—every sound she made, every sharp intake of breath, every way her body moved with his.

Outside, the city pulsed with neon light and the hum of Night City’s sleepless streets. But here, in the dim glow of the bedroom, time slowed, and all that mattered was the fire between them, the way they came together as if the past three days had been unbearable, as if neither of them could stand to be apart a second longer.

And when River finally collapsed beside her, breathless, sweat-slicked, his fingers still tangled with hers, he let out a hoarse chuckle, pressing his forehead against hers.

“Next time,” he murmured, voice rough, spent, “I’m not waitin’ three days.”

V smiled, curling into him, her lips tracing lazy patterns over his shoulder. “Next time,” she whispered, smirking against his skin, “I won’t make you.”

They lay tangled in the sheets, skin still warm, breath still uneven, but neither in any rush to move. The world outside hummed with the distant sounds of Night City, but here, in the quiet sanctuary of their bedroom, everything felt still. Peaceful.

V exhaled softly, realizing that the exhaustion that had weighed on her earlier—the stress, the weight of the day—was gone. Somehow, without even realizing it, River had stripped it away, piece by piece, until all that remained was the warmth of his body against hers and the slow, steady rhythm of his breathing.

Smirking, she pushed herself up, climbing onto his chest. River let out a small grunt of surprise, but his hands instinctively found her waist, steadying her.

“Not done with me yet, huh?” he teased, his voice a low, content rumble.

Instead of answering, V leaned down and began pressing soft, lingering kisses across his face—his forehead, his cheeks, the bridge of his nose, the corners of his lips. Each kiss was light, affectionate, a stark contrast to the fire they had just shared, but just as intoxicating.

River chuckled, the deep sound vibrating against her as he held her close. “Damn. I really like this side of you.”

V pulled back just enough to meet his gaze, her expression softer than usual. She didn’t say anything at first, just studied him—the warmth in his eyes, the way he looked at her like she was something precious, something he’d hold onto as long as she’d let him.

A lump formed in her throat, but she swallowed it down, her fingers brushing along his jaw. “I don’t wanna stay apart from you,” she admitted, voice quieter now, more vulnerable. “And if it’s okay with you… I’d really like for you to move in.”

River blinked, his lips parting slightly as the words sank in.

V smiled, a little wry, a little wistful. “If my time’s running low, then I’d rather spend it the way I want. No regrets, no fear of choices I didn’t make.” She exhaled, her fingers tightening against his skin. “And I want to spend it with you.”

For a moment, he just stared at her, expression unreadable. Then his lips slowly stretched into the biggest, brightest smile she’d ever seen from him—one that reached his eyes, that softened every sharp edge, that made her chest feel too full.

“V…” His voice was hoarse, thick with something he didn’t bother to hide. And then it was his turn to pull her down, rolling her onto the bed as he showered her with kisses, laughter rumbling between them.

He kissed her forehead, her nose, her cheeks, his lips pressing against every inch of her skin with a joy that was impossible to contain.

“You serious?” he murmured between kisses.

V laughed, trying to catch her breath, but she didn’t stop him. “Dead serious.”

River pulled back just enough to look at her, his fingers trailing along her jaw, memorizing the moment. Then, without another word, he kissed her again—slow, deep, lingering.

“I’m all yours,” he murmured against her lips. “For as long as you’ll have me.”

V smiled, tangling her fingers in his hair, pulling him closer.

Chapter Text

V took the long way home. She wasn’t sure why—maybe she thought the extra time would help settle the storm in her head, maybe she just wasn’t ready to close herself off in four walls again. The city's neon glow blurred past as she rode through the streets, the hum of her bike beneath her the only steady thing in her world.

Before she even realized it, she was in Corpo Plaza.

Her breath hitched as she rolled to a stop, staring up at the towering monoliths of power and privilege. And there it was—her old home. The place she had been raised, back when she still had a family, back when she wasn’t just another ghost wandering through Night City.

She could almost feel it, the warmth that once existed here. The echo of her mother’s laughter, soft but strong, the way her father used to ruffle her hair, calling her his little overachiever. A home filled with expectations, rules, and yet... love. Real love.

V swallowed hard, gripping the handlebars like they might anchor her to the present. Would they even recognize her now? The chrome, the scars, the weight in her eyes—would they see their daughter in the person she had become, or just another relic of the city's cruelty?

A familiar flicker of light sparked beside her, and then Johnny was there, leaning against thin air, arms crossed, watching her. For once, he didn’t immediately throw out some snarky remark. He just looked at her, like he understood.

"Not exactly the homecoming you pictured, huh?" His voice was still laced with sarcasm, but there was something softer beneath it.

V huffed out a laugh, one without humor. "Didn’t exactly think I’d ever be back here at all."

Johnny tilted his head, considering her. "You ever wonder how they'd react? If they saw you now?"

V let out a slow breath, eyes still fixed on the building. "All the time."

A beat of silence passed between them. Then Johnny smirked. "Well, I’ll tell you one thing—your old man? He’d probably lose his shit over the company you keep."

V chuckled despite herself, shaking her head. "Yeah... yeah, he would."

Johnny’s smirk faded slightly, and for a moment, he looked almost—what, concerned? Nah, that wasn’t his style. But still, he stayed there, didn’t disappear into the ether, didn’t mock her for lingering in the past.

V took a deep breath and spoke before she could stop herself. "Y’know, I remember this one time... I had this big school recital. I was maybe ten, all dolled up in some stupid dress my mom picked out. My dad, he was supposed to be there, front row, no distractions. He promised."

Johnny said nothing, just listened.

"Show starts, I’m up there, nerves shot to hell... and I spot an empty seat where he should’ve been. Thought I was gonna pass out right there. But then, right as I open my mouth to sing, the doors slam open. There he is, late as hell, still in his suit, looking like he just ran a damn marathon. He didn’t even sit down, just stood there, watching. The whole time. Didn’t take his eyes off me once."

V let out a short, breathy laugh. "Afterward, he picked me up, spun me around like I’d just won the goddamn lottery. Said he was proud. I remember thinking—that’s all I wanted. Just that."

Johnny watched her for a long moment, something unreadable in his expression. "Sounds like he gave a damn. In his own corpo way."

V nodded, swallowing against the lump in her throat. "Yeah... he did."

Another pause, then Johnny spoke, voice quieter than usual. "You miss 'em."

It wasn’t a question, and she didn’t answer right away. Just stared up at the building, at a life long gone. When she finally spoke, her voice was barely above a whisper. "Every damn day."

Johnny didn’t say anything else. No biting remarks, no jabs at corps or sentimentality. He just stood there, existing with her in the moment. And for once, she was grateful for the silence.

She took a shaky breath. "My mom used to sit right there, by the balcony. Every morning, coffee in one hand, newsfeed in the other. She had this way of watching the city, like she wasn’t just looking at it—she was studying it, breaking it down piece by piece. She used to say, ‘You gotta know the game if you wanna survive it.’”

Johnny’s gaze didn’t waver. "Sounds like she had a good head on her shoulders."

"Yeah... she did. She was the one who taught me to think three steps ahead. But she also made the best damn pancakes every Sunday morning, no matter how busy she was. Dad said it was the only time she ever let herself slow down." V smiled faintly. "Alex always tried to steal extra syrup. Mom would pretend not to notice, but she always gave me a look like we had a secret."

Johnny crossed his arms. "Your brother."

V nodded, gripping the handlebars tighter. "He was... everything. Smart. Too smart for his own good, but he had this way of making people feel safe. Always looked out for me. No matter how bad things got, I knew he had my back. And then..."

She trailed off, jaw clenching. Johnny didn’t push. He didn’t have to.

"The day I got the news... it felt like someone ripped my heart out. I was sixteen, stuck in that goddamn boarding school they sent me to because ‘it was best for my future.’ I hated it. Hated being away from them, from Alex. I used to count down the days until I could go home again.

Then, one day, I got pulled into the headmaster’s office. I remember thinking I was in trouble for skipping out on a lecture. But no. Instead, I got a message on my holo—polite, sterile, telling me my family was dead. A ‘tragedy.’ A ‘miscalculation.’ A fucking ‘unfortunate event.’

I don’t even remember leaving the office. One second, I was staring at that screen. The next, I was in a stolen warden’s car, tearing through the streets like a lunatic, racing back here. Back home. But by the time I got here... it wasn’t home anymore. Just an empty shell. Just a place where they used to be.

I remember standing outside, gripping the gate so hard my fingers went numb, waiting for someone to tell me it wasn’t real. That Alex would come running out, pissed as hell, calling me an idiot for stealing a car. That Mom would scold me for being reckless. That Dad would—" her voice cracked, and she exhaled sharply. "But no one came. No one was left. And the worst part? I couldn’t even scream. Couldn’t break. Just had to nod, say I understood, and get back to school. Like their deaths were just another number on some corpo report."

Johnny’s jaw tightened, his eyes dark. "Fucking corps."

V swallowed hard, shaking her head. "Yeah. But that’s not what haunts me. It’s that I wasn’t there. That I never got to say goodbye. Never got to tell Alex I—" Her voice cracked, and she looked away. "Doesn’t matter."

Johnny didn’t call bullshit. He just let her have the moment.

After a long silence, he finally asked, "You gonna go in?"

V exhaled, long and deep, the kind that felt like it carried something away with it. "No," she said, revving the bike. "Not tonight."

Johnny tilted his head, watching her. "Yeah, probably for the best. Last thing you need is some corpo security schmuck calling you in as a ‘suspicious individual.’” He smirked. "Might break their delicate little brains if they found out you used to live here."

V huffed out something close to a laugh. "Yeah. Maybe."

"Still, gotta say—kinda poetic. The corpo princess turned merc, staring at the castle gates, deciding if she wants to storm ‘em or let the ghosts rest."

V shook her head. "You really got a way with words, Johnny."

"Hey, somebody’s gotta keep things interesting."

She tore her gaze away from the building and sped off, leaving the ghosts of Corpo Plaza behind—at least for now.

By the time V climbed onto her bike, the sky had opened up, rain pouring down in heavy sheets. It almost felt merciful, masking the tears she hadn’t even realized were falling. For the first time in years, she let herself cry for them—her mother, her father, Alex.

Maybe it was because of what Vik said, about Alex. The possibility that he was still out there. That he had never come back, never reached out. If he was alive, why hadn’t he come for her? Why hadn’t he sent anything, a message, a sign—something?

The rain blurred the city lights as she sped away, her heart heavier than it had been in a long time. And for the first time, she whispered a thought she never dared before.

"Where the hell are you, Alex?"

By the time V reached home, she was drenched, the cold rain soaking through her clothes, clinging to her skin like a second layer. Every breath she took was heavy, as if the night itself was pressing down on her. She stepped inside, the door shutting behind her with a soft click.

The house was quiet. Too quiet.

Nibbles lay curled up on the couch, barely stirring at the sound of her entrance. The cat flicked an ear but didn’t wake, oblivious to the weight V carried on her shoulders. She didn’t even know how long she had stood outside that house, lost in memories, nor how long she had been riding through the rain, trying to outrun the ache in her chest.

The space around her felt hollow, but then—warmth.

A faint, almost forgotten kind of warmth drifted from the kitchen. The scent of something cooking, soft light spilling through the doorway. And there he was—River.

He stood by the stove, stirring something in a pan, his broad frame relaxed in the soft glow of the kitchen lights. He looked so natural there, so steady—like an anchor in the raging storm of her thoughts.

For a moment, she just stood there, watching him, letting the sight ground her. It was something warm, something real. Something good.

She tried to call his name, tried to say something, anything, but no sound came. Her throat was too tight, choked with emotion and exhaustion. Her body trembled, not just from the cold, but from everything she had let crash over her tonight.

And then, as if sensing her presence, River turned.

His eyes widened the second he saw her—soaked through, shaking, eyes red-rimmed and glassy. His entire demeanor shifted in an instant, from casual to urgent, a deep concern etching itself onto his face.

"God, V—are you okay?" His voice was thick with worry as he rushed toward her.

She opened her mouth to answer, to tell him she was fine, that she was just tired—but before she could get the words out, her vision swayed.

The world tilted.

She felt warm hands grab her before she even realized she was falling. Strong arms wrapped around her, pulling her against River’s chest before she could hit the floor. His warmth bled through her soaked clothes, a stark contrast to the freezing rain still clinging to her skin.

"V? V!" His voice was frantic now, full of panic as he held her close. She could feel his heartbeat against her temple, steady and alive.

She tried to blink, tried to fight the dark edges creeping into her vision, but her limbs were too heavy, her mind sinking into the void.

Then came another voice—distant, yet close. Familiar.

"Shit, kid , don’t do this now."

Johnny.

But for once, there was no sharp-edged sarcasm, no exasperation. Instead, there was warmth in his voice, steady and grounding. Like he was keeping her tethered, keeping her from slipping too far.

"Not checkin’ out yet, you hear me? Not tonight."

She wanted to answer him, to tell him she wasn’t going anywhere, but she was already falling, already drifting.

Somewhere, River’s voice cracked with worry. Maybe he was calling for Vik, for Jackie, for someone—but it was all fading, muffled like she was underwater.

And in the darkness, Johnny’s presence remained.

"You’re not alone, V. Not anymore."

Then, nothing.

***

The world was hazy, soft around the edges, like a watercolor painting left out in the rain. V wasn’t sure where she was at first, only that everything around her felt warm. The sky was an endless stretch of blue, the sun casting golden light through the branches of trees that swayed in a gentle breeze.

And then—laughter.

A sound so familiar, yet so distant. It pulled at something deep inside her, like a thread unraveling, tugging her toward the source. She turned her head and saw them—her family.

Her mother sat on a soft checkered blanket, carefully unpacking a picnic basket. She was graceful, even in the smallest of movements, her hands delicate as they arranged plates and food with practiced ease. Her platinum white hair was neatly styled, the way it always had been, and though her face was somewhat blurry, those kind eyes shone through, watching everything with warmth.

"Valerie, honey, can you pass me the plate?"

V froze.

That voice. That soft, familiar voice. It cut through her like a blade—not from pain, but from the sheer weight of memory crashing over her.

She looked at her mother, searching, as if the more she stared, the clearer her face would become. But no matter how hard she tried, the details remained just out of reach, like trying to grasp smoke with her fingers. Still, she was beautiful. Still, she was Mom.

V reached out, hands steady but breath shaky, and passed the plate.

And then another sound—her name, shouted across the park.

She turned toward it.

There was Alex, standing by a massive oak tree, waving her over with an impatient grin. His dark hair ruffled by the breeze, his brown eyes so full of life.

"Come on, V! What are you waiting for?"

Beside him, their father stood tall, hands in his pockets, watching them both with that same, steady warmth he always carried. The sun hit his dark hair just right, making the strands glow a soft brown, but his face—his face was hard to see. No matter how much V tried to focus, it was blurred, as if her mind refused to fully remember.

But the voice.

"Are you okay, my princess?"

God. She missed that voice.

It was deep, steady, full of unspoken strength. It wrapped around her like a shield, made her feel safe in a way nothing else ever had. And when she looked up, she could see his smile—warm, gentle, the way it always was when he looked at her.

Her throat tightened.

A shadow moved in the corner of her vision, and before she could react, Alex was suddenly at her side, grinning wide, a small flower in his hand.

"Here." He reached up and tucked it into her hair, his fingers barely brushing against her temple. "Pretty flower for my pretty sister."

That was it. That was the moment her chest caved in.

A sob ripped through her before she could stop it. Her vision blurred, hot tears spilling down her cheeks as the weight of everything—years of loss, years of silence, years of aching for them—came crashing down all at once.

"Mom… Dad… Alex…" Her voice broke around their names, shuddering with the sheer force of grief. "I miss you. I miss you guys so much."

Her father’s smile faltered, his face darkening ever so slightly.

Then, softly, carefully—"Oh, honey… we’re here. We’re always here."

V shook her head, gripping the fabric of her own shirt as if it would hold her together. "Then why does it feel like you’re so far away?"

Her father stepped forward, placing a strong hand on her shoulder. "Because it’s not time yet. Not for you."

Alex suddenly wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close. His embrace was warm, grounding, exactly how she remembered it.

"When the right time comes," he murmured against her hair, "you and I will visit Mom and Dad together, okay? But not yet. Not now."

V clung to him, eyes squeezing shut as if she could freeze this moment, make it last forever.

"Don’t cry," Alex whispered, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

As V clung to Alex, her sobs quieting into soft, shuddering breaths, she felt him shift slightly. His chin rested gently atop her head, and then—

He started to hum.

A soft, familiar melody.

Their lullaby.

The one their mother used to sing when they were little, when the world still made sense. The same one she whispered to them on stormy nights, her voice a warm beacon in the dark. The same one Alex would hum whenever V had trouble sleeping, a quiet, wordless promise that he was always there.

The moment the tune reached her ears, her body went still.

It sounded so real. So vivid. As if she was home again.

Her mother’s gentle presence moved closer, and V felt her warmth before she even saw her. A soft touch, a hand brushing back damp strands of hair from her face. Then—a kiss, pressed gently against her forehead.

Warm. So warm.

Then another—her father this time. Stronger, firmer, lingering just a little longer, like he was trying to make sure she felt it. Like he wanted her to know he was there.

She did.

She felt them.

Her breath hitched as she squeezed her eyes shut, holding onto the sensation, desperate to make it last. To never let it go.

But even as she willed herself to stay, to sink into their warmth, she could feel the dream unraveling at the edges.

Alex’s humming grew softer, distant.

Her mother’s fingers, once steady and real, began to fade.

Her father’s warmth, the press of his lips against her forehead—vanishing.

She reached out, panicked, pleading.

"Wait—please, don’t go—"

Alex’s arms tightened around her one last time, voice no more than a whisper in her ear—

"I never left, V."

The words sent a chill down her spine, her breath catching in her throat.

Alex pulled back just enough for her to see his face—his features still blurred, shifting like smoke, but his eyes… His eyes were sharp. Real. Alive.

"I’ll find you," he murmured, pressing a final kiss to her forehead. "When it’s time."

Then—

Everything disappeared.

The warmth. The light.

V drifted in the empty dark, weightless, caught between nowhere and nothing. There was no sound, no city hum, no neon glow. Just blackness stretching endlessly in every direction.

Then—

A whisper.

Soft at first, like a breeze rustling through old paper. Then louder.

Familiar voices, calling her name.

"V..."

"Valerie..."

Her breath hitched.

A blinding light.

It burned through the darkness, searing into her closed eyelids. Too bright. Too sudden.

V let out a soft groan, instinctively turning her head away, but even that small movement sent a sharp, stabbing pain through her skull. Fuck. It felt like her brain was splitting apart, like someone had jammed a rusty ice pick behind her eyes.

Her body was heavy—too heavy. Every nerve screamed in protest. She tried to move her fingers, her arms, anything—but pain shot up her spine, jagged and relentless.

The world around her was a hazy blur. A mix of dim neon lights, sterile air, and the faint mechanical hum of machinery. But the smell—the scent of metal, antiseptic, and engine grease—that was familiar.

Vik’s clinic.

She was back in Viktor Vektor’s ripperdoc shop.

A sharp breath hitched in her throat. How? Who—

A weight pressed against her hand.

V blinked sluggishly, turning her aching head slightly to the side. Her vision swam, unfocused, before finally settling on a figure slumped over by the edge of her bed.

River.

He was sitting there, one hand gripping hers tight, his fingers warm and firm even in sleep. His other arm was propped on the edge of the bed, his head resting against it. His breathing was slow, even—but his face… God, his face.

Even in the dim light, she could see the deep creases of exhaustion on his forehead, the slight redness around his eyes, the unshaven stubble shadowing his jaw. He looked worn out. Broken down.

Like he had been sitting there for hours. Worrying.

V’s throat tightened.

She wanted to say something. Call his name. Reach for him. Tell him she was here. That she was okay.

But her voice—it wouldn’t come.

She tried again, forcing air through her parched throat, but all that escaped was a rough, barely audible whisper.

River didn’t stir.

V let out a slow breath, her eyes scanning the room.

Across from her, near his workbench, Vik was hunched over his desk, moving fast, scrambling through his tools like a man running out of time. His usual easy-going demeanor was gone. His hands worked swiftly, eyes narrowed in laser focus as he sorted through something—chrome parts, diagnostic readings, vials of some unknown substance.

V forced her lips to move.

"Vik…"

Her voice was hoarse, weak—barely more than a breath.

But he heard her.

Viktor froze. His hand, mid-motion, clenched around a tool before he quickly turned to face her.

Shock. Relief. A flicker of something else—guilt.

“Shit… V.”

River stirred at that, his grip on her hand tightening as he let out a small grunt, blinking awake. His eyes were groggy at first, unfocused. Then they landed on her—and everything changed.

Relief, raw and unfiltered, crashed through him like a wave. His breath hitched, his hand shaking slightly as his thumb brushed over her knuckles.

“V…” His voice was rough, thick with exhaustion.

She tried to smile. Tried to reassure him.

But all she could do was close her fingers weakly around his hand before the darkness started pulling her under again.

Viktor was at her side in an instant.

The chair he had been sitting on scraped harshly against the floor as he rushed toward her, a whirlwind of movement and barely contained emotions. His hands hovered over her like he wasn’t sure where to touch, where to check first. His fingers brushed over her wrist, then moved to her forehead, his cybernetic optics scanning her vitals even as his flesh-and-blood instincts took over.

A deep, shaky sigh.

Relief, heavy and overwhelming, crashed over him.

Vik swallowed hard, his jaw clenching like he was fighting something back. His breath was uneven, and when he finally spoke, his voice was soft, raw.

Like a father who had just gotten his daughter back from the dead.

“You really worry me, kid.”

V blinked sluggishly, the weight of her eyelids still too much, but she heard him. Felt the emotion in his words.

Her throat was dry, her body weak, but she forced out a whisper. “How… long?”

Vik exhaled through his nose, rubbing a hand down his face. He hesitated, just for a second, like he didn’t want to tell her—like the truth itself was a punch to the gut.

“Two days.”

V’s breath hitched.

Two days? She had been gone for two whole days?

Her eyes flicked to River, still at her bedside, his grip on her hand so tight it was like he was afraid she’d disappear again if he let go. The exhaustion carved into his features made sense now. He had been here. Waiting.

For her.

V turned her gaze back to Vik. His normally steady hands trembled as he reached for a scanner, running it along her arm, then to the side of her head. Checking. Rechecking. Even now, after she had woken up, he wasn’t convinced.

She saw it—the tightness in his shoulders, the moisture in his eyes that he refused to let spill.

The sight of it nearly broke her.

Vik never let himself break.

But now, he was standing there, holding himself together by a thread.

She managed a weak smirk, her voice barely above a breath. "Missed me that much, old man?"

Viktor let out a sharp breath that was almost a laugh. He shook his head, blinking fast, before muttering, “You have no idea, V.”

V swallowed, her throat raw, voice barely above a whisper.

"What... what happened? Was it the Relic?"

Vik sighed, rubbing his temples before meeting her gaze. He hesitated, like he was trying to find the right words. Like he wasn’t even sure himself.

"No," he said finally. "It wasn’t the Relic. Not exactly. It’s like… your system reset itself. Like it’s trying to fight back, slow the Relic down on its own.” He exhaled, frustration evident in his furrowed brows. "I don’t know what triggered it, V. Maybe something in your head, something deep—who the hell knows. But whatever it was, your body shut down to compensate."

V frowned, her mind sluggish, trying to piece it together. A trigger.

The memories.

Her parents. Alex.

The dream.

She barely had time to process before a familiar voice cut through the air—low, dry, laced with something dangerously close to concern.

Johnny exhaled sharply, pushing off the wall, arms still crossed as he studied her. "Jesus, V. You really know how to scare the shit outta people, y'know that?"

V tried to smirk, but her muscles barely cooperated. "Were you worried, Johnny?"

Johnny scoffed, shaking his head. "Nah. Just figured if you kicked the bucket, I’d have to haunt some other poor bastard. And let’s be real—not many people out there with your kind of stubborn stupidity."

But there was something off in his voice. A hesitation.

V didn’t miss the way his jaw clenched, how he looked away for a split second—like he hated what he was about to say.

"Listen…" He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "I, uh—shit, I dunno. Maybe pushed you too hard back there. Shoulda backed off."

That was the closest thing to an apology she’d ever get from him.

V stared at him, blinking slowly. She could’ve teased him, could’ve pushed him for more. Instead, she just whispered, "I’m still here, Johnny."

He met her eyes then, the usual fire dimmed just a little. He gave a sharp nod, exhaling through his nose. "Yeah. Yeah, you are."

There was no mistaking it. He was worried.

Even now, standing there with his usual cocky posture, there was a tension in his face, in his stance. His fingers tapped against his bicep—an anxious tic he probably thought no one noticed.

V let out a weak breath, a ghost of a smirk on her lips. "Aww, you were worried."

Johnny scoffed, rolling his eyes. "Tch. Yeah, yeah. Don’t get used to it."

But his voice lacked its usual bite.

Vik ran another scan over her vitals, his brow furrowed in deep concentration. Even though the initial panic had passed, she could see it in his eyes—he was still worried.

"Alright, kid," he finally muttered, stepping back and rubbing his temples. "Everything looks… stable. For now." His voice was gruff, but there was that rare softness in it. That fatherly edge he tried so hard to downplay.

V sighed, shifting in the chair. Every muscle in her body felt like lead. "So I’m good to go?"

Vik shot her a look. "‘Good’ ain’t the word I’d use, but you ain’t dyin’ on me either." He turned to River, who was still hovering like a watchdog, eyes flicking between her and the monitor. "Listen, big guy—she needs rest. Real rest. None of this 'I’ll be fine after a few hours' bullshit she pulls."

River gave a firm nod, like he was committing every word to memory. "Got it."

Vik crossed his arms. "And absolutely no physical activity for at least a week."

V perked up slightly. "Wait—hold on—"

Vik cut her off with a sharp glare. "No arguments. I mean it, V. No jobs, no gigs, no—" He paused, eyes narrowing. "And for the love of all that’s holy, no… extracurricular activities either."

V’s face burned instantly. "Jesus, Vik."

River coughed, rubbing the back of his neck, ears going a little red. "Right. Of course." He stepped toward the door. "I’ll let Jackie and the others know she’s okay." He gave her hand a small squeeze before heading out.

The clinic settled into a heavy silence.

Vik sighed, rubbing his hands over his face before leaning back against his desk. His usual sharp gaze softened, something troubled lingering in the way he looked at her.

"You scared the hell outta me, kid." His voice was quieter now. More strained.

V swallowed, leaning forward slightly. "Didn’t mean to."

Vik exhaled, shaking his head. "I shouldn’t have—" He hesitated, jaw tight. "I shouldn’t have brought up Alex. Feels like I set something off in you, and now…" He gestured vaguely, guilt written all over his face. "Now I got you droppin’ like a goddamn sack of bricks in your own home."

V blinked. For a second, she almost laughed. Viktor Vektor. The legend himself. And here he was, blaming himself for something that had been long overdue.

She shook her head. "Vik… don’t do that. Don’t blame yourself."

He frowned but didn’t argue.

She took a slow breath. "You saying his name—it didn't hurt. It reminded me." She bit the inside of her cheek, eyes dropping to her lap. "Reminded me how much I missed them. How much I tried to forget. And maybe… maybe that’s what triggered all this. I dunno. But I’m glad you did."

Vik's brows pulled together, still unconvinced.

V forced a tired smile. "Really. I never let myself think about them, y’know? Always moving, always surviving. It’s easier that way. Or at least, I thought it was." She swallowed the lump in her throat. "But I didn’t know how much I needed to miss them. So… thank you."

Vik looked at her for a long moment, then sighed, shaking his head with a small chuckle. "Damn kid. Always the tough one, huh?"

She smirked weakly. "Somebody’s gotta be."

Vik exhaled, resting a firm hand on her shoulder, giving it a light squeeze. "Well, just this once… maybe let someone else carry the weight for a bit, yeah?"

V didn’t answer right away. Just leaned back in the chair, staring at the ceiling.

"Yeah."

Vik gave her shoulder one last squeeze before stepping back, exhaling like he was still processing everything. Then, predictably, his doctor mode kicked right back in.

"And just to make sure it sinks in—no gigs, no jobs, nothing strenuous. Got it?" He shot her a firm look.

V shifted in her seat, rubbing at her temple. "Yeah, yeah, I hear you, Vik."

There was a beat of silence.

"Although…" she drawled, glancing at him from the corner of her eye.

Vik narrowed his gaze instantly. "V…"

She gave him an innocent shrug. "I might have a Samurai gig this weekend."

Vik’s eye twitched. “V.”

She held up a hand. “Just one set. I sit on a stool, play a couple of songs, and call it a night. No shootouts, no heists, no corpo bullshit.”

Vik pinched the bridge of his nose. “And what part of ‘rest’ do you not understand?”

V smirked tiredly. “The part where I have to miss a once-in-a-lifetime gig.”

Vik sighed, shaking his head. “Just… don’t push it. You start feeling off, even a little, you walk off that stage and call it a night.” He pointed a finger at her. “And if I hear even a whisper about you jumping off a speaker or smashing a guitar over some gonks' heads, I swear to god—”

V chuckled weakly, holding up both hands in surrender. “Alright, alright. I promise, no guitar smashing. Maybe just a little pyrotechnics.”

Vik groaned. “You’re gonna be the death of me.”

She grinned, but there was warmth behind it. “Not if I go first.”

Vik scowled. “Not funny, kid.”

V exhaled, rubbing her temples. “Yeah… I know.”

River stepped back inside, slipping his holo into his pocket, his sharp eyes scanning over V as if checking to make sure she was really awake this time, really here. His shoulders eased just slightly, relief flickering in his gaze before he walked over to her, resting a hand gently on her shoulder.

“You ready to get out of here?” His voice was softer than usual, the usual toughness laced with something more fragile—worry, maybe.

V stretched her arms slightly, wincing as the dull ache shot through her muscles. “Hell yeah. Place smells like oil and antiseptic. No offense, Vik.”

Viktor scoffed from his desk, rubbing his temples. “Yeah, yeah. Just remember who pulled your ass back from the brink before you start complaining about the damn air freshener.”

River let out a short chuckle but didn’t move just yet. His grip on her shoulder tightened slightly. “You sure you wanna go straight home? Might be better to stay at Mama Welles’ for a bit. She’d take care of you.”

V snorted. “Yeah, and she’d take care of me alright—by throwing a sandal at my head for almost flatlining. You know how she is. Besides I gotchu.” She smirked.

River let out a short chuckle, but there was still something guarded in his expression. "Alright. Our place it is."

As he helped her up from the chair, she instinctively leaned into him, the warmth of his body grounding her. Her legs wobbled slightly, but she steadied herself. Her body felt heavy—drained—but her stomach? That was completely empty.

She groaned dramatically. “God, I’m starving. River, please tell me you’ll cook when we get back.”

He raised a brow. “Depends. You actually gonna eat real food this time? Or just chug a can of NiCola and call it a meal?”

V gasped, placing a hand over her chest as if he’d just deeply insulted her. “Excuse you. I am a recovering patient. I deserve a proper home-cooked meal. Something warm. Something good. Something made with love.”

River smirked, shaking his head. “Fine. I’ll cook.”

V grinned, then clasped her hands together, looking up at him with exaggerated puppy-dog eyes. “And ice cream.”

River’s smirk faded into a deadpan stare. “V—”

She grabbed his hand with both of hers, squeezing it like a child begging for a new toy. “And cookies. Please. I almost died. I deserve cookies.”

Vik let out a groan from behind them. “Christ, kid, you’re worse than a teenager.”

River let out a heavy sigh, rubbing his face. “Fine. But you’re not eating a whole tub of ice cream. And don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing with those damn eyes.”

V beamed. “No idea what you’re talking about.”

River shook his head, but there was warmth in his gaze. He adjusted his hold on her as they started making their way toward the exit. "Let’s get you home first. Then we’ll worry about stuffing your face."

The cool night air hit V as soon as they stepped outside, crisp and almost refreshing after the artificial chill of Vik’s clinic. She inhaled deeply, letting it settle in her lungs, but there was still something heavy in her chest. A lingering exhaustion that even fresh air couldn’t wash away.

She turned to River, her voice quieter this time. “Hey… what happened the last two days? While I was out?”

River’s expression darkened slightly, and his grip on her hand tightened just a fraction. “You had people worried, V. Vik wouldn’t let anyone near you except me and him. Thought it might make things worse.”

V glanced to the side, half expecting Johnny to appear right then and there with some half-assed insult, but he didn’t. 

Maybe Johnny had been lingering in the background, keeping an eye on her while she was trapped in her own mind.

The weight in her chest grew heavier, but this time, it wasn’t just exhaustion—it was something else. Something softer, something she didn’t know what to do with.

She didn’t say anything for a long moment, just walking beside River in silence, listening to the city hum around them.

Finally, she muttered, "Guess I owe a lot of people an explanation."

River shot her a sideways glance. “Yeah, but it can wait. Right now? You just focus on getting better.”

V scoffed, shaking her head. "And eating ice cream."

River sighed, but there was warmth in his gaze. “And eating ice cream.”

***

The moment V stepped inside, a familiar warmth wrapped around her—not just from the cozy atmosphere of her apartment but from the small ball of fur that immediately brushed against her legs.

"Nibbles."

V grinned, crouching down despite the dull ache in her body. The cat purred loudly, pressing herself against V’s leg, her tail curling around her ankle in a slow, deliberate motion. She’d never admit it, but V swore the little feline had a way of showing just how much she’d been missed.

"Yeah, yeah, I’m back. Didn’t mean to scare ya, girl." V ran her fingers through Nibbles’ soft fur, scratching behind her ears, earning a pleased rumble in return.

Meanwhile, River had his hands full with the bags of groceries they picked up on the way back. He moved straight to the kitchen, setting everything down on the counter before methodically loading the fridge.

V, on the other hand, had a much simpler mission.

Armed with a fresh tub of choco-mint ice cream, she made a direct beeline for the couch, plopping herself down with a satisfied sigh. With one hand, she reached for the remote, flicking the TV on to some mindless late-night program, and with the other, she popped the lid off the ice cream.

The first bite was heaven. Cool, creamy, the perfect balance of chocolate and mint melting on her tongue. Fuck, she missed this.

She barely got three spoonfuls in before River’s voice carried from the kitchen.

"V, slow down."

She looked up, spoon still in her mouth. "Wha’?"

River shot her a look as he finished stacking away the vegetables. "You were out for two days. Your stomach's empty, and filling it with nothing but ice cream is gonna wreck you."

V huffed dramatically but didn’t argue. Instead, she took another spoonful—a smaller one this time, just to avoid the lecture.

River sighed, shaking his head with a small smirk before turning back to the kitchen. "I’m making real food. Try not to kill yourself with sugar before then."

V just waved him off lazily, stretching out on the couch, Nibbles curling up beside her. "Yeah, yeah. But I make no promises."

As the sounds of chopping and sizzling filled the apartment, V let her body sink into the cushions. For the first time in what felt like forever, things felt… normal.

And for now, that was enough.

The apartment hummed with a comforting familiarity—the soft glow of the TV flickering across the walls, the quiet purr of Nibbles curled up beside V, and the rhythmic sounds of River working in the kitchen.

V let herself sink deeper into the couch, lazily scooping up another bite of her choco-mint ice cream. She was still sore, still tired, but damn if this moment wasn’t exactly what she needed. No bullets flying past her head, no corpos breathing down her neck, no damn relic glitching out. Just a quiet evening, the scent of something warm and home-cooked filling the air, and River actually unpacking his things for good this time.

Her eyes flicked toward the kitchen, watching him move with ease—pulling out ingredients, chopping vegetables with that focused expression he always had when he was serious about something. He wasn’t just cooking. He was making sure she had a real meal, something good to eat after everything.

“Smells nice,” she murmured, setting her ice cream aside—more because River was probably right about her empty stomach than because she was actually full.

River glanced over his shoulder, raising a brow. “Told ya—gonna make sure you eat actual food, not just sugar.”

V smirked, stretching out on the couch. "C'mon, sugar keeps me running."

"Yeah, right until you crash and burn."

She huffed dramatically but didn't argue. Instead, she just watched him a little longer, taking in the way his shoulders tensed, how he kept sneaking glances at her like he still couldn't quite believe she was awake.

“So,” she started, propping her feet up on the coffee table, “what exactly happened while I was out? Two days is a long time in this city.”

River sighed, setting the knife down and wiping his hands on a dish towel before leaning against the counter. "You mean besides me almost losing my goddamn mind?"

V smirked. “Yeah, besides that.”

River exhaled. "Jackie was ready to storm the clinic the moment he heard. Mama Welles had to practically hold him back. He and Misty stopped by to check on you. Even Rogue sent a message, checking in."

V raised an eyebrow. “Rogue?”

“Yeah. And… Kerry.”

V blinked. "Kerry?"

River nodded, his expression shifting into something almost amused. “Yeah, sent me about three dozen messages asking for updates. When I didn’t answer fast enough, he called Vik.”

V let out a short laugh. “Shit.”

“That’s not even the best part.” River continued, crossing his arms. “After he found out you were stable, he—get this—sent over a ridiculous amount of supplements, herbal teas, and some high-end, corpo-grade vitamins. Had ‘em all delivered right to the clinic.”

V groaned, running a hand down her face. “Kerry-fucking-Eurodyne. Why am I not surprised?”

River smirked. “It was kind of sweet, actually. Guy was worried sick about you. Even wrote this long-ass note about ‘proper recovery nutrients’ and how ‘Samurai can’t afford to lose their best talent.’”

V shook her head, laughing softly. "Damn. He really went all out, huh?"

"Oh yeah. Pretty sure Vik has enough vitamins now to open a damn pharmacy."

V exhaled, something warm settling in her chest. Kerry could be dramatic as hell, but… that was just his way of showing he cared.

"Well, at least he didn’t threaten to cancel the gig," she mused.

River shot her a look. "Speaking of—which, you’re not seriously still planning on doing that gig, right?"

V smirked. "What, and waste Kerry’s precious recovery supplements? No way.”

River sighed, shaking his head. "Vik’s gonna kill you."

V licked her spoon clean and grinned. "I got Vik's approval for the gig."

River sighed, shaking his head. “How the hell you pulled that one off.”

“Charm, charisma, maybe a little guilt-tripping.” V smirked. "Besides, Kerry would have lost his mind if I backed out."

She grinned, closing her eyes for a moment, listening to the low hum of the TV and the steady sounds of River cooking. There was something so stupidly comforting about it all. Maybe it was the way he was just here—moving in, settling in, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“Y’know,” she murmured, eyes still closed, “kinda weird finally having you here for real.”

She heard him pause before he responded. “Weird how?”

V cracked one eye open, watching him over the back of the couch. "Just... not used to sharing my space, I guess." She smirked. "Hope you’re not expecting some kinda housewarming party or shit."

River let out a soft chuckle. "Nah, I think the near-death experience was enough excitement for one week."

V hummed, reaching out to scratch Nibbles behind the ears as the cat stretched lazily beside her.

"Guess that makes this official, huh?" she murmured.

River turned, leaning against the counter, watching her with something unreadable in his eyes. "Yeah... guess it does."

For a moment, neither of them spoke. It was comfortable—this quiet understanding between them.

Then V’s stomach grumbled loudly.

River raised a brow, smirking. "Told you. Ice cream doesn’t count as dinner."

V groaned, throwing an arm over her face. "Fine, fine. Just hurry up before I start eating the couch or something."

River just chuckled, turning back to the stove.

And for the first time in a long time, V let herself relax.

River set the plates down on the table, the rich scent of spiced meat and roasted vegetables filling the small space. He pulled out a chair for V before sitting down himself, watching as she stretched, groaning in satisfaction at the sight of real food.

Before she could dig in, a flicker of light sparked beside her, and then—

"Well, well. Look at you, playing house again."

V sighed, rolling her eyes as Johnny Silverhand leaned against the counter, arms crossed, signature smirk in place. His gaze flicked between her and River before landing back on her, the teasing glint in his eyes barely masking something softer underneath.

"You here to criticize my life choices, or did you just miss me?"

"Oh, don't flatter yourself, V." Johnny smirked. "Not my fault you keep giving me material. First it was a corpo penthouse, then a dingy motel, now this—a nice little love nest. What’s next? White picket fence?"

V huffed a laugh, shoving a forkful of food into her mouth instead of responding.

Johnny's expression shifted, the usual edge of sarcasm still there, but something else too. Relief. He wouldn't say it outright, but it was there.

He sighed, shaking his head. "Look, just—text Kerry or something, yeah? Old guy’s been losing his shit over you. Would hate to see him fall off his balcony from all the stress."

V snorted. "Wouldn’t be the first time."

Johnny chuckled. "Yeah, but you weren’t half-dead last time. Just let him know you’re alive, before he starts composing a tragic ballad about it."

V exhaled, nodding. "Yeah, yeah, I will."

Johnny studied her for a moment before rubbing the back of his neck, looking almost… sheepish. “And, uh… thanks. For going through with the gig. Even after everything. For doing this for me.”

V raised an eyebrow. “Johnny Silverhand, saying thank you? Who the hell are you, and what have you done with the real Johnny?”

Johnny scoffed. “Don’t get used to it.”

And with that, he flickered out of sight.

V sighed, picking up her phone and shooting a quick text to Kerry.

[V]

Still breathing, old man. Don’t go jumping off any balconies.

Within seconds, her phone buzzed with an incoming call.

The second the call connected, Kerry’s voice came through, rough with frustration but tinged with unmistakable relief.

"V, what the hell?! Do you have any idea how worried I’ve been?"

V leaned back against the couch, letting out a tired chuckle. "Yeah, yeah, I got your care package. Real subtle, by the way. Thought I was waking up from a coma in a damn health retreat."

"You were out for two days, V. Two. Fucking. Days. And no one could tell me if you’d wake up or not. You think I give a shit about subtlety?"

V winced. The weight behind his words made it clear—he’d been scared. More than she expected.

"I’m sorry," she said, softer now. "Didn’t mean to ghost you like that."

Kerry exhaled sharply. "Look, I get it. Shit happens. But don’t pull that again, alright? You’re lucky I didn’t show up at Vik’s and start shaking people down for answers."

V could almost picture it—Kerry, storming into Vik’s clinic, demanding to see her, probably causing a scene. She shook her head with a smirk. "Pretty sure Vik would’ve tranquilized you before you got through the door."

"Would’ve been worth it."

V sighed. "I’m good now. Vik cleared me. And hey, I’m still on for the gig, alright?"

A beat of silence. Then—

"You sure?" Kerry’s voice had softened, his usual bravado giving way to something more cautious. "If you’re not up for it, we can push it. No shame in taking a damn break, V."

V smiled, even if he couldn’t see it. "Nah, I need this. Feels good to have something to look forward to. Besides, wouldn’t wanna let down the legendary Kerry Eurodyne, right?"

Kerry scoffed. "Damn right you wouldn’t." But the amusement was short-lived. "Just... take it easy, alright? Don’t need you flatlining on me mid-set."

"Promise," V said. "Now stop fussing, old man."

"Fuck off."

V laughed, the tension easing. "See you at rehearsal, Kerry."

"Yeah. See you soon, V."

The call ended, and V set the phone down with a sigh.

River, who had been watching her the whole time, smirked. "He really does care about you, huh?"

V shrugged, but there was warmth in her voice. "Guess I got more people watching my back than I thought."

River reached over, squeezing her hand. "Yeah. And we’re not going anywhere."

For once, V let herself believe it. She sighed dramatically, tilting her head toward River. "Feed me."

River scoffed but smirked. "Really?"

V nodded, leaning into him, resting her head on his shoulder. "Mhm. Almost died, y’know? Need someone to pamper me a little."

River chuckled, shaking his head. "You’re impossible." But he didn’t protest. Instead, he cut a piece of steak, speared it with the fork, and brought it to her lips.

V let him feed her, humming in satisfaction as she chewed. "Damn, this is good. Maybe having you move in wasn’t such a bad idea after all."

"Oh, so you were having doubts?" River teased, nudging her lightly.

"Nah," she murmured, voice soft, almost sleepy as she curled closer against him. "Feels nice, having someone here."

River didn’t say anything to that, just pressed a kiss to the top of her head and kept feeding her. It was quiet for a while, the only sounds being the occasional clink of silverware and the hum of the TV playing in the background. V liked this—the simplicity of it, the warmth of his arm around her, the steady beat of his heart.

But then, River’s voice came, softer this time. "V… before you blacked out. What happened?"

She stilled for a second, the fork hovering near her lips.

River must have noticed because he quickly added, "You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. I just—" He sighed. "I just wanna understand what happened to you. One second, you were fine, and then… I thought I lost you, V. That scared the hell out of me."

V swallowed the lump in her throat. She could feel how much he meant it. The worry, the helplessness he must’ve felt watching her slip away like that.

She exhaled. "No, I want to tell you."

She adjusted, pulling back just enough to look at him. His eyes met hers, patient, steady, waiting.

"It started with Vik," she said. "When I went to see him, he mentioned Alex."

River’s brows furrowed slightly, recognizing the name. He didn’t interrupt.

"I hadn’t thought about my brother in a long time. Not really. I mean… I did, but not like this. When Vik said his name, it was like something cracked open in me. And then I ended up in front of my old house. I don’t even remember how I got there."

She swallowed, staring at a point on the table. "Everything came rushing back. Memories I hadn’t let myself think about in years. Alex and I sitting on the rooftop, talking about what we’d do when we got older. Sneaking out at night just to watch the city lights. The way he used to hum our mom’s lullaby when I had trouble sleeping."

River’s grip on her hand tightened just slightly.

"And then I remember, the day they had...unfortunate inccident. I guess I've been trying to surpress that memory. Then, it start raining," V continued. "I don’t know how long I stood there. Then I got on the bike. I don’t even remember deciding to, but the next thing I knew, I was on the road, the rain hitting me, and everything felt… heavy. Like I was carrying something I hadn’t realized was still there."

She exhaled. "I don't even know how I reached home, and when I saw you, god River, you don't know how relief I'm when I saw you standing in the kitchen. Next thing I know everything was dark."

"Then, the dream. The doors. My family, Alex, everything. It felt so real."

She hesitated, then looked up at him. "I think… I think I was supposed to remember."

River was quiet for a long moment. Then, finally, he spoke, voice low. "You never really talk about them."

V let out a small, humorless chuckle. "Yeah, well… I guess I thought if I didn’t, it’d be easier."

River shook his head, brushing his thumb over her knuckles. "You don’t have to carry all of that alone, V."

She swallowed past the lump in her throat, nodding.

River was quiet for a long moment. Then he sighed, brushing a thumb over her knuckles. "Sounds like… your mind was trying to show you something."

V nodded. "Yeah. I don’t know what triggered it, but it felt different. Like it wasn’t just the relic messing with me… It was something else."

River’s brows furrowed, concern flickering across his face. "And you’re sure you’re okay now?"

V gave him a small smile. "I’m here, aren’t I?"

River huffed, but the worry didn’t fully leave his eyes. "Just… promise me you won’t push yourself too hard. Please."

V leaned up, pressing a kiss to his jaw. "I promise."

River gave her a look, hesitant, then asked, "Alex… you think he’s out there somewhere?"

V met his eyes. "Yeah. I do."

Something flickered across River’s face—understanding, maybe. Or just quiet support. He didn’t push further, didn’t ask for details she wasn’t ready to give. He just pulled her close, pressing a kiss to her temple.

"Alright, then. But that doesn’t mean I’m done spoiling you." He picked up another piece of steak and brought it to her lips. "Open up."

V grinned, letting him feed her again. Maybe, just for tonight, she’d let herself be taken care of.

The night had been peaceful. She stirred slightly, feeling the warmth beside her. River’s arm was draped lazily over her waist, his breath slow and steady against the back of her neck. His presence was grounding—safe.

For a while, she just lay there, listening to the faint hum of the city outside, the occasional car passing by, the muffled voices from the streets below. It was strange how something so chaotic could feel normal, even comforting.

Eventually, River groaned softly, his arm tightening around her as he buried his face against her shoulder. "Mmm… morning."

V smirked. "Barely. It’s almost noon."

He sighed, finally shifting onto his back, rubbing a hand over his face. "Guess we overslept."

"Not complaining," she muttered, stretching out like a cat before rolling onto her side to face him. "First good sleep I’ve had in a while."

River smiled at that, brushing a stray lock of hair from her face. "You needed it."

They stayed like that for a moment, just enjoying the quiet before reality started creeping back in.

River finally sat up, running a hand through his hair. "Big day tomorrow. You ready?"

V exhaled, sitting up beside him. "Yeah. Should be fine."

River gave her a look. "V—"

She rolled her eyes, nudging his arm. "I got Vik’s approval, okay? And I know my limits. Promise."

He sighed but didn’t push further. Instead, he leaned over, pressing a quick kiss to her temple. "Alright. Just don’t push too much."

V grinned. "You sound like Vik."

"Maybe 'cause the old man’s right."

She snorted before standing, stretching again. "C’mon, let’s grab some food. Then maybe head over to Mama Welles’."

River raised a brow. "Yeah? You wanna visit her?"

V smirked. "The longer I wait, she might actually throw me her chancla."

River chuckled. "Maybe. But she’s been worried sick about you."

V hummed, walking toward the bathroom. "You sure you’re ready for this, River? Meeting Mama? Big step, y'know." She shot him a teasing look over her shoulder. "She might start planning the wedding."

River snorted, leaning against the doorway as she turned on the sink. "Already met her again while you were out, remember?"

That made V pause. She turned to him, curiosity sparking. "Oh yeah? How’d that go?"

River crossed his arms, thinking back. "She was… nice. Apologetic, even." He exhaled. "She saw the state I was in and told me not to blame myself. Said you are strong—like her son."

V let a small laugh out.

"She also made sure I ate. Swore I looked like I hadn’t slept in days."

V chuckled. "You probably didn’t."

He smirked. "Nope. But she took care of me like a real mom would. Even packed me food for when I got back to Vik’s."

V grinned. "Told you she’d like you."

River rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah. C’mon, let’s go before she starts thinking I kidnapped you or something."

V laughed, tossing a towel at him before heading off to get ready.

***

The drive to Jackie’s place was smooth, the city passing by in a blur of neon and hazy daylight. V leaned back in her seat, watching the way River’s hands rested on the wheel—steady, controlled. He looked better than he had a few days ago, the exhaustion no longer weighing him down as heavily. But there were still shadows beneath his eyes, proof of sleepless nights spent worrying over her.

Her chest tightened at the thought.

How much did this man love her to let himself get to that state? To nearly break himself over the fear of losing her?

V exhaled, shaking the thought away as she pulled out her phone, typing out a quick text to Jackie.

[V]

On our way. You better have food.

Jackie’s response was almost instant.

[Jackie W.]

Haha, chica, I always got food. Mama’s gonna hug the soul outta you though. Fair warning.

V smirked, slipping her phone back into her pocket before turning her attention to River. He looked focused on the road, but more at ease now, his fingers tapping idly against the wheel.

She tilted her head, watching him for a moment before asking, "So, how’s Joss? Everything good at home?"

River glanced at her, his expression softening. "Yeah. She’s doing good. Worried about you, though. Kept asking for updates. Said she’d cook you something next time we visit."

V smiled. "Man, I really am spoiled, huh?"

River chuckled. "Guess so."

She leaned back, stretching slightly. "And Randy? How’s he holding up?"

River sighed, but there was no heaviness in it. "Better. We’ve been working on things, y’know? Talking more. He’s… healing. Slowly."

V nodded. "That’s good. He’s got you, Joss… people who love him."

River’s grip on the wheel tightened briefly before he exhaled. "Yeah. Just gotta make sure he knows that."

There was a brief silence before V grinned. "So, is he excited for the Samurai gig tomorrow? Bet he’s losing his mind over it."

River smirked. "Oh, you have no idea. Keeps asking me if I think you’ll get to play with them on stage."

V chuckled. "Oh, he won't be expecting the surprise, huh?"

"Understatement."

They drove in comfortable silence for a while, the city shifting as they neared Heywood. V watched the familiar streets pass by, the neighborhood she had once called home feeling both distant and familiar all at once.

Jackie’s place wasn’t far now. She could already feel the warmth of Mama Welles’ hug before they even pulled up.

And for the first time in a while, she felt ready to face it.

River safely parked the car in front of Mama Welles' house. As soon as V and River stepped inside, the warmth of Mama Welles’ home wrapped around them like a familiar embrace. The rich, savory scent of slow-cooked birria filled the air, blending with the faint aroma of incense that Misty had probably lit earlier. It smelled like home—comforting, safe. A feeling V hadn’t even realized she had been missing. Before she could take another step, she heard a sharp inhale, and then—

"¡Mija!"

Suddenly, Mama Welles was in front of her, arms wrapping around V in a tight, warm hug. There was so much relief in it that V could feel it in her bones.

"Oh, my niña… I was so worried." Mama’s voice wavered, and for a second, V thought she might cry.

V hugged her back just as tightly. "I’m sorry, Mama. Didn’t mean to scare you."

Mama Welles pulled away just enough to cup V’s face, her sharp, knowing eyes searching hers. "You gave us all a fright. Two days, mija. Two days you were gone from this world." She glanced over at River, her expression softening. "And this poor boy—"dios mío, the state he was in when he told me…" She shook her head before turning back to V, placing a hand over her heart. "I thought I was losing another one of my children."

That hit V like a bullet straight to the chest. She felt her throat tighten, but before she could speak, Mama Welles turned to River, a teasing smile breaking through the lingering worry.

"And you, mijo, don't think I didn't notice." Her eyes gleamed as she patted his arm. "Fretting over her like a good novio."

River blinked. "A—what?"

V barely managed to bite back a laugh.

Mama Welles smirked, switching to English just for him. "Boyfriend, my dear." Then, just as smoothly, she added in Spanish, "Though if you don’t marry her soon, I might just do it for you."

V did laugh at that, covering her mouth as she watched River’s ears turn red.

But the real moment of panic hit when he subtly reached for his translator, setting it to detect Spanish.

And then—his eyes widened.

V could see the exact moment the words registered, could almost hear the imaginary wedding bells clanging in River’s head.

"Oh," was all he managed to say. His jaw worked slightly, as if trying to form words, before he glanced at V, eyes searching.

She barely had time to take another breath before a familiar voice rang out from the kitchen.

"Well, well, well. Look who finally decided to wake up from her beauty sleep!"

V turned just in time to see Jackie leaning against the kitchen counter, arms crossed, a cocky smirk on his face. He looked just like he always did—big, solid, larger than life—but there was a softness in his gaze. A flicker of genuine relief.

Misty was beside him, perched on one of the chairs, her ethereal presence grounding the room. Her sharp blue eyes assessed V carefully before she smiled, soft and knowing. "About time, V. We were starting to think you just really liked the astral plane more than this one."

V let out a chuckle, shaking her head. "Wouldn’t dream of leaving you guys hanging."

Jackie’s grin widened. "Damn right you wouldn’t." Then his gaze flicked to River, standing beside V, and something mischievous sparked in his eyes.

"So, yerno, how’s married life treating you?""

V snorted as River groaned, rubbing a hand down his face. "What? When? Huh?"

Jackie let out a booming laugh, clapping River on the back—hard enough to make the man stumble slightly. "Bienvenido a la familia, hermano. Ain’t no escaping now."

River sighed, shaking his head, but there was no real frustration in his expression. "Yeah, yeah. Guess I better start brushing up on my Spanish, huh?"

Misty giggled, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "Couldn’t hurt. You know, in case you ever need to ask for V’s hand in marriage the proper way."

That did it.

V burst out laughing as River groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I swear to god, I walk into one conversation unprepared and suddenly I’m a married man."

Mama Welles, who had reappeared from the kitchen with a plate of freshly made tamales, smiled warmly. "No hay prisa, mijo. But… when the time comes, you’ll know."

Something in her tone made the room go quiet for a moment. Something tender.

V glanced at River, expecting to see exasperation, but instead, he was just… looking at her. A strange, unreadable softness in his dark eyes.

For a moment, she almost forgot to breathe.

Jackie, of course, broke the silence.

"Anyway! Before you two start making googly eyes at each other, sit down, eat. Mama’s cooking can revive even the half-dead. Trust me, I would know."

River muttered something under his breath about conspiracies, but there was no real frustration in his voice. If anything, there was an odd softness in his expression, as if the thought wasn’t entirely unwelcome.

Mama Welles just shook her head with a knowing smile, before gesturing them toward the table. "Come, come. You must eat. Jackie is right—my food could bring someone back from the dead. And after what you’ve been through, mija, you need it."

As they settled in, V caught River stealing a glance at her, something unreadable in his eyes.

She smirked. "Better keep that translator on, big guy. Who knows what else Mama has planned for you?"

He sighed dramatically, but there was a small, fond smile on his lips as he reached for the food.

Misty poured tea, Jackie piled food onto everyone’s plates, and Mama Welles kept shaking her head every time she caught River looking at V like she was the only thing in the world.

Maybe, just maybe…

She was.

Chapter Text

V stood in front of her mirror, rolling a guitar pick between her fingers, feeling its familiar edges bite into her skin. The air in her apartment buzzed with something electric—anticipation, maybe? Or nerves? It had been a long time since she felt anything close to excitement. But this? This was different.

The holo on her desk blinked, Nancy’s message glowing on the screen.

[Nancy H.]

 We’re set. Samurai reunion’s happening tonight at Red Dirt. You in?

V exhaled slowly.

[V] 

Like you even have to ask.

Before she left, she sent another message—this one to River.

[V] 

Gotta head to the Red Dirt for the gig. You still bringing Randy & Natalie?

His response was almost instant.

[River W.]

Yeah, just picked them up. Jackie and Misty will meet us there later. You sure you're up for this?

[V] 

Vik gave me the green light. You’ll see, big guy—gonna blow your mind tonight. 😏

She grinned, slipping the holo back into her pocket before grabbing her jacket. Time to raise some hell.

Night City pulsed with life as V weaved through the streets, the distant hum of synthwave beats blending with the growling engines of passing cars. Neon signs flickered overhead, their reflections bleeding onto the rain-slicked asphalt. The city smelled of ozone, street food, and the ever-present haze of pollution, but tonight—tonight, none of it mattered.

Tonight was about something else entirely.

She pulled up to Red Dirt, the bar already alive with a different kind of energy. The crowd outside was massive, an eclectic mix of old-school rockers wearing patched-up leather jackets, fresh-faced kids sporting Samurai merch, and seasoned fans who looked like they had seen the band live before it all fell apart. Smoke curled into the air from the cigarettes clutched between fingers, the occasional neon tattoo glowing in the dim light. The buzz of conversation, the occasional laugh, and the low thrum of anticipation filled the air like static before a storm.

Nancy had been right. This wasn’t just a gig.

This was a resurrection.

As she stepped inside, the atmosphere shifted. The bar was dimly lit, the walls lined with old posters—Samurai, Cutthroat, and other relics from a time before corpos swallowed the soul of the music scene. The air was thick with sweat, alcohol, and the faint, lingering scent of leather and old amplifiers. The stage at the far end of the room loomed like a shrine, waiting for ghosts to bring it back to life.

Her holo buzzed in her pocket.

[River W.]

Outside. Just parked. Bringing the kids in now.

V turned toward the entrance just as River stepped through, Randy and Natalie in tow.

Randy looked overwhelmed, his eyes wide as they scanned the bar, taking in every little detail. He was wearing one of V’s old Samurai shirts—one she had given him months ago, faded and a little too big on him but clearly well-loved. Natalie clung to his arm, rolling her eyes at his excitement but unable to hide the smile tugging at her lips.

River, on the other hand, looked… good. Better than he had in days. The dark circles under his eyes had faded slightly, his posture more relaxed, though he still kept a protective hand on Randy’s shoulder. When his gaze met V’s, a small smile tugged at his lips, the kind that made warmth bloom in her chest.

"Damn, V," Randy breathed out, looking around like he had just stepped into another world. "This is insane."

V grinned. "Wait till you see the stage."

Randy shook his head in disbelief.

"Thanks, V. For this. For everything. You didn’t have to… but you did."

V tilted her head, studying him for a second before ruffling his hair. "Told you, kid. You're family."

Before Randy could say anything else, the doors swung open again, and Jackie came strolling in with Misty at his side.

Jackie whistled, scanning the bar. "Damn, hermana. You really know how to pick your gigs."

Misty smiled softly, giving V a once-over before nodding. "You look… lighter, V."

V raised a brow. "That so?"

Misty hummed. "Like you’ve remembered something you didn’t know you’d forgotten."

V didn’t have a response for that.

Nancy was waiting by the bar, arms crossed, scanning the crowd. Her gaze landed on V, and a slow smirk spread across her face.

"There she is. Ready to make history?"

V chuckled, adjusting her jacket. "You tell me. Got everything set up?"

Nancy motioned for her to follow, weaving through the bar’s dimly lit interior. The neon lights flickered above them, casting long shadows over the walls plastered with old Samurai posters. Nostalgia hit V like a sucker punch.

Near the worn-out couch at the back of the bar, Nancy stopped and gestured toward a guitar case resting on it.

"Before we start, got something for you."

V arched a brow, crouching down to flick the latches open. The second the lid lifted, Johnny materialized beside her, his flickering form still as he took in what was inside.

His old guitar.

Johnny let out a breathy chuckle, running a hand through his hair. "No way… This real, Nance?"

Nancy crossed her arms. "Private collector had it. Cost me a few favors, but figured this night wouldn’t be the same without it."

V brushed her fingers over the strings, feeling the weight of history under her touch.

"Shit," she muttered. "Heavier than I thought."

Johnny smirked, eyes filled with something close to pride. "You’ll get used to it, chaos queen."

Nancy clapped V on the back. "Kerry’s on his way. He’s bringing Drausin from Cutthroat to fill in. Henry’s already inside if you wanna talk to him before we start."

V nodded, gripping the guitar strap as she made her way across the bar.

Henry sat in the corner nursing a glass of whiskey, the dim lights casting deep shadows across his tired features. He barely looked up as V approached, eyes fixed on the ice swirling in his glass.

"Didn’t think you’d actually show," V said, sliding into the seat across from him.

Henry snorted, shaking his head. "Didn’t think I would either." He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his graying hair. "When I hit rock bottom… Denny walked out. Can’t blame her. I fucked up too many times." His voice dropped, almost like he was ashamed to say it out loud. "Refused to talk to me since. Thought this gig might be my shot at… something. Kerry helped get me back in shape. Guess he still gives a damn, despite everything."

V watched him for a moment before nodding. "You got a second chance, Henry. Don’t waste it."

He let out a dry chuckle, swirling the whiskey in his glass. "Yeah, well. Let’s see if I can still play first."

As the minutes ticked down, V slipped away to the bathroom, locking the door behind her. Her fingers trembled slightly as she pulled out the Pseudoendotrizine. She could feel Johnny watching her through the mirror, his reflection leaning against the sink.

"No turning back now, V."

She popped the pill, and the world blurred.

When she blinked again, it wasn’t her staring back in the mirror.

It was Johnny.

He cracked his neck, rolling his shoulders. "Fuck yeah. Let’s do this."

The lights dimmed, and for a moment, the crowd was nothing but a sea of silhouettes. Then—

The first chord rang out.

A shockwave.

The entire bar exploded with sound, bodies moving as one, the music hitting like a bullet to the chest. Johnny felt the guitar in his hands like an extension of his own soul, every note thrumming with the weight of something ancient and untamed.

From the VIP section, Randy was frozen, his hands gripping the railing so hard his knuckles turned white.

Randy’s jaw had practically hit the floor. "Is that—? Holy shit, is V playing with Samurai?!"

River chuckled beside him. "Told you she was something special."

Jackie let out a low whistle. "Damn, hermana. You really didn’t tell us you had this in you."

The energy in the room was unreal. The crowd felt it—this was more than just a show. This was something that had been waiting to happen.

The final notes of A Like Supreme rang through the Red Dirt, vibrating through the walls, through the bones of every person in the room. The crowd roared, the sound a tidal wave crashing over the stage. Sweat dripped from Johnny’s brow—V’s brow—her body thrumming with adrenaline and something else. Something deeper. A sense of completion.

He turned his head, eyes scanning the faces of the band before landing on Kerry.

Kerry looked different in this moment. His usual smirk was gone, replaced by something softer, something almost vulnerable. His fingers were still curled around the mic stand, knuckles white, chest rising and falling as he caught his breath. The years had weighed on him, but right now, in the dim glow of the stage lights, he looked almost young again.

Johnny let the weight of the moment settle between them.

Then, with deliberate care, he stepped back from the mic stand, slung the guitar strap over his head, and walked to the bar at the edge of the stage. He ran a hand along the worn, chipped wood of the instrument. This guitar—it wasn’t just a relic. It was history. His history. The last true piece of himself he had left in this world.

And now… it didn’t belong to him anymore.

Without a word, he slid it across the bar.

Kerry’s brows furrowed, his lips parting in disbelief.

"The fuck, Johnny?" His voice was hoarse, still raw from singing. "This is yours."

Johnny—V—shook his head. "Nah." His voice was quiet, but firm. "Had my time. My fight’s done. It’s yours now."

Kerry hesitated, staring at the guitar like it might shatter in his hands if he touched it. Then, slowly, he reached out. The moment his fingers wrapped around the neck of the instrument, something shifted in the air. A silent exchange. A torch passing from one legend to another.

Kerry exhaled sharply, nodding once. "You better not be fucking with me, Silverhand."

Johnny smirked. "Wouldn’t dream of it."

A beat of silence, then—

"I’ll take care of it." Kerry’s voice was softer now, raw in a way he rarely allowed himself to be. "I swear."

Johnny nodded. "I know."

Kerry exhaled sharply before nodding, accepting it.

V’s vision blurred for a moment as she adjusted back into herself. The rush of music still pulsed in her veins, a high she wasn’t sure she’d ever come down from. The crowd was still wild, their voices merging into a chaotic symphony of cheers, whistles, and excited chatter. The night stretched on in a blur of neon lights, music, and laughter. The Red Dirt was alive with energy, the kind that only came from a room filled with people riding the high of something unforgettable.

V had spent most of the night between her friends, the occasional fan coming up to offer a drink, a word of praise, or a simple “Holy shit, that was you?” She took it all in stride, but her mind was still reeling from the weight of it all.

Eventually, she found herself back at the bar, a glass of whiskey in her hand, boots propped against the stool beside her. Kerry slid onto the seat next to her, looking far too comfortable, a lazy smirk on his lips as he swirled his own drink.

"Hell of a night, huh?" he mused, his voice still hoarse from the performance.

V chuckled, taking a sip of her drink. "Not bad for a bunch of old legends and a borrowed body."

Kerry let out a low laugh, shaking his head. "You did good, V. Johnny would’ve been proud. Even if he’d never admit it."

V hummed, glancing toward the stage, where the instruments sat, now silent, the air still charged with the echoes of their music.

Kerry reached into his jacket, fingers wrapping around something solid before setting it down on the bar between them.

A gun.

Not just any gun.

A custom-built Overture, sleek and black with silver engravings along the barrel. It gleamed under the dim lights of the bar, almost too pristine for a weapon that had undoubtedly seen its fair share of blood and battle.

V raised a brow, tilting her head. "Didn’t take you for the sentimental type, Kerry."

Kerry scoffed, nudging the gun toward her. "Yeah, well. Even old rockers got their soft spots."

She picked it up, running her fingers along the engravings. The weight of it was perfect, balanced—lethal but elegant.

"This ain’t just any piece," Kerry continued, watching her closely. "This baby’s been with me through a lotta shit. Fought off some corpo assholes, settled a few scores. But I think… it’s time she had a new owner."

V looked up at him, searching his face for any hint of hesitation. There was none.

"You sure?"

Kerry smirked, taking another sip of his drink. "You earned it."

There was something unspoken in his words, something heavier than just a simple gift. This wasn’t just about the show, about Johnny, or even about their shared history with Arasaka.

It was trust.

A passing of something personal, something that carried weight.

V exhaled, gripping the pistol a little tighter before tucking it into her holster. "Thanks, Kerry."

He raised his glass in a mock toast. "Just don’t go wasting all my bullets on some gonk trying to steal a fucking Kiroshi implant, yeah?"

V chuckled, clinking her glass against his. "No promises."

Kerry grinned. "That’s my girl."

She turned her head—and there was Randy, standing at the edge of the VIP section, completely frozen. His hands were gripping the railing so tightly his knuckles were turning white.

"Holy shit." His voice was barely above a whisper, his eyes darting between V and the stage, like his brain was still trying to process what he just witnessed.

V wiped a hand over her face, sweat still clinging to her skin, and smirked. "Not bad, huh?"

Randy let out a sharp, disbelieving laugh. "Not bad?! Not bad?! That was fucking legendary!"

River chuckled beside him, shaking his head as he draped an arm over the kid’s shoulder.

V turned to Randy, smirking. "Wanna meet Kerry?"

Randy’s eyes widened, his breath hitching. "Are you serious?!"

V chuckled. "Go on, before he gets mobbed."

Randy didn’t need to be told twice. He practically bolted from the VIP section, nearly tripping over himself as he ran toward Kerry, who caught him with an easy laugh. The kid launched into a flurry of excited ramblings about how he’d been a fan since forever, his words tumbling over each other so fast it was almost incoherent.

And Kerry, to his credit, loved it. He clapped Randy on the back, signed whatever the kid shoved at him, even handed him a guitar pick from his pocket like it was the most casual thing in the world.

River, standing beside V, let out a soft chuckle. "That just made his entire life."

V smirked. "Yeah, well. That’s what rockstars do."

River turned his head, watching her for a long moment. Then, with a small smile, he leaned in, pressing a kiss to the side of her head. "Come on, rockstar. Let’s enjoy the afterparty."

And with that, the night was just getting started.

The real show started after the Samurai reunion—when the Red Dirt bar emptied out and Kerry’s mansion lit up like a neon inferno against the dark hills of North Oak.

The place was already alive before they arrived, but the moment V stepped through those massive doors, the energy turned electric.

The bass thrummed deep in her bones, the scent of synthetic smoke, expensive liquor, and body heat hanging thick in the air. The walls pulsed with the shifting neon, flickering between shades of violet, crimson, and burning electric blue.

The living room had been transformed into a dance floor, bodies moving to the beat, caught somewhere between sin and celebration. The DJ—a gothic-looking rocker with half their head shaved and neon tattoos pulsing like circuitry—was spinning a mix of old-school punk and modern synthwave, the kind of music that made you want to drink, fuck, and fight—all at the same time.

Kerry’s mansion-wide sound system blasted through the walls, rattling the windows and sending waves of heat through the crowd. Every room had its own scene—drunken conversations, poolside flirting, backroom deals, private encounters whispered against ears slick with sweat.

And smack in the middle of it all—Kerry Eurodyne, looking like the wild bastard of legend he was.

Kerry was already a few drinks deep when V arrived, standing behind his custom-built bar mixing drinks like some rockstar bartender. He wore a half-buttoned silk vest, tattoos glowing under the shifting neon light, golden chains resting against his collarbones.

The moment he saw V, he grinned like the devil himself and shoved a shot in her direction.

“’Bout time you showed up, rockstar! Thought I’d have to carry this whole fucking party on my back.”

V smirked, sliding onto the barstool. “Wouldn’t put it past you.”

Kerry poured another shot—something amber and deadly, the scent alone promising poor decisions and good memories.

“Then let’s make it real, huh?”

They clinked glasses before slamming the shots back. The burn was sharp, electric, spreading through V’s chest like liquid fire.

Jackie had fully claimed the dancefloor.

The man was a fucking tank, towering over the swaying bodies, a shot in one hand and a girl in the other. He was laughing, spinning a dark-haired beauty around before seamlessly passing her off to another dancer, sliding into a rhythmic, tequila-fueled groove.

Misty, surprisingly, wasn’t just watching—she had been dragged into the chaos.

A guy in a glowing jacket and cybernetic arms had convinced her onto the floor, and for once, Misty let herself go. Her usual quiet, mystical aura melted into the movement—hips swaying, silver rings flashing as she threw her hands up, spinning under the club lights.

Jackie, of course, hyped her up. “That’s my girl! See? I told you you had moves!”

Misty just laughed, her cheeks flushed from a mix of alcohol and adrenaline.

As the music pulsed through the mansion, the drinks flowed like liquid fire, and bodies swayed under shifting neon, a small sanctuary of quiet mystery had formed in one of the lounge corners.

Misty had set up her tarot cards.

She had claimed a low glass table, candles flickering softly, smoke curling from a stick of incense resting in an ashtray. The atmosphere was completely different from the wildness of the party—a pocket of calm in the storm.

At first, the guests ignored her, too drunk, too caught up in their own indulgences—but then, curiosity won. A small crowd had gathered, some laughing at the idea, others watching with wary fascination as Misty shuffled the deck, her silver rings glinting under the dim light.

Jackie, ever the enthusiastic believer, was her first willing subject.

“Alright, chica. Lay it on me. What’s the stars got in store for ol’ Jack?”

Misty smirked, pulling three cards from the deck, laying them out carefully.

Her expression shifted slightly as she studied them.

"The Fool. The Tower. The Chariot."

Jackie raised an eyebrow. “Lemme guess. I’m either gonna be a rich legend, or end up in a ditch.”

Misty chuckled softly, tapping her nails against the Fool card. “No, Jack… This means a new journey. But one that comes with chaos, destruction, and change.”

Jackie’s grin faltered, just for a second. Then he shook it off. “Eh. Sounds like a regular Saturday night in Night City.”

V, watching from nearby, felt something uneasy settle in her stomach.

Something about The Tower always made her feel like she was staring down the barrel of fate.

As the party raged on, Misty’s corner became a quiet attraction.

A corpo woman in a silk dress asked about her future, only to receive The Devil card, which made her visibly pale before she stumbled back to the bar.

A nomad with cybernetic arms wanted to know if he’d live past thirty.

“Death,” Misty murmured, placing the card down.

The guy just laughed, slamming back his drink. “Figures.”

Even Kerry, drunkenly wobbling with a shot glass in hand, plopped down in front of Misty at one point.

"Alright, future lady," he slurred. "Tell me how much of a mess I am."

Misty just sighed, pulling a single card.

The Lovers.

Kerry blinked. Then snorted. "Well. That’s fuckin’ funny."

V, watching from across the room, smirked over the rim of her drink.

“Maybe it’s time you start listening to the cards, Kerry.”

Kerry waved her off. “Cards don’t know shit. Love’s a goddamn illusion.”

Misty just smiled softly, tucking the card back into the deck. “Maybe.”

The party was in full swing—music thundered through the walls, neon lights casting shifting shadows, laughter and wild conversation mixing with the scent of liquor and cigarette smoke. The air was thick, charged, the kind of night where anything felt possible.

V, sprawled out in a plush barstool, nursed her drink with lazy amusement, watching the people around her spiral into the night.

That’s when they came.

First, a ripped nomad, all sun-kissed skin and half-shaved head, dressed in a loose V-neck that showed off just enough muscle to make a statement. He slid in beside her, his arm draping over the back of her seat, close but not touching—yet.

“You were insane up there, chica,” he said, voice as smooth as the whiskey in his glass. “Never seen anyone light up a stage like that since… well, since Samurai was still a thing.”

V smirked. “Big words, considering you never saw Samurai live.”

The nomad chuckled, eyes gleaming under the neon. “I make up for it with good instincts.”

Then came the netrunner.

Tattooed, piercings catching the light, an air of effortless danger wrapped around them like a well-tailored jacket. They leaned in from the other side, the scent of ozone and liquor clinging to their breath as they spoke low into her ear.

“You feel like trouble.” A grin. A glint of metal flashing over their teeth. “You taste like it too?”

V chuckled, swirling her drink. “That depends… you up for a little danger?”

The netrunner traced a slow finger along her wrist, eyes locked onto hers.

And then—

A strong, familiar hand landed on her thigh.

River stood behind her, his large hand warm, firm, a silent claim as he leaned slightly forward, presence overwhelming. His fingers pressed, just enough to remind her he was there—watching.

His jaw was tight, hazel eyes dark with something simmering just beneath the surface.

The netrunner stilled.

The nomad raised an eyebrow, but his smirk didn’t fade. “Didn’t know you had a bodyguard.”

River didn’t look at them, his eyes locked on V instead, as if daring her to push him just a little further.

“Don’t mean to interrupt,” he said, his voice even—too even. “But I’m borrowing her.”

V tilted her head up at him, lips curving into something mischievous. “Jealous, detective?”

River exhaled through his nose, slow and measured, his fingers tightening just barely before he released her leg. “Just looking out for my girl.”

The netrunner lifted their hands in mock surrender, though a knowing smirk lingered.

“Mmm. She looks like she can handle herself.”

“She can,” River admitted, his tone unreadable. “But she doesn’t have to.”

The nomad clapped River on the shoulder, laughing. “Hey, no hard feelings, man. Lucky guy.”

The netrunner simply winked at V before disappearing into the crowd, leaving a trail of neon tattoos and temptation in their wake.

V turned in her seat, facing River fully now, knees bumping his.

“You enjoy making me crazy, don’t you?” he murmured, voice dropping low, for her ears only.

V grinned, setting her drink aside and pulling him closer by the belt loop. “A little.”

River huffed, shaking his head, but his hands braced against her thighs, holding her in place—a subtle claim, a quiet promise.

“Your flirting time is up.”

V arched a brow, playful. “Oh yeah?”

His lips brushed against her ear, voice dangerously low. “Yeah. Only flirt with me.”

And then he kissed her.

Hard, possessive, like he was setting something straight.

V melted into it, the party fading into static.

There was no one else—just him, just her, just the fire between them.

Eventually, after a few more drinks and a long makeout session with River in the corner of the room, V found herself drawn to Misty’s little sanctuary.

Misty looked up at her, warm, knowing eyes meeting V’s gaze.

“Ready?”

V exhaled. Was she?

She sat down anyway.

Misty shuffled the deck slowly, her hands steady. The candlelight flickered, the world outside their little space dimming into silence.

She placed down three cards.

The Hanged Man. The Moon. The Wheel of Fortune.

V swallowed.

Misty studied them, then looked up at her.

“You’re waiting for something,” she murmured. “Hanging in limbo. But things aren’t what they seem, V. There’s still more hidden beneath the surface.”**

V’s heart pounded. She thought of the dream. The voices of her parents. Alex’s last words.

“I’ll find you. When it’s time.”

She clenched her jaw.

Misty’s fingers traced over the Wheel of Fortune. “And when the time comes… everything changes.”

V let out a slow breath.

She didn’t know what the future held.

But she had a feeling she wouldn’t have to wait long to find out.

The music surged back into focus, the weight of the cards still heavy on her mind.

And the party continued, neon burning against the dark.

Kerry, already tipsy, leaned against her with an arm slung over her shoulders, guitar in hand. “One more, V. For the road.”

V grinned, pulling the mic closer. “You sure you won’t pass out mid-song, old man?”

Kerry snorted, strumming a few opening chords. “I’m not that washed up yet.”

And so they played—something soft and raw, stripped down from the chaos of Samurai’s sound, just the two of them. The crowd had thinned, but those still standing swayed, caught in the moment. Even the most hammered of them stopped to listen.

At the bar, Jackie and River were in a drinking battle, shot glasses piling between them. River, usually the composed one, was red-faced, laughing too much. Jackie was holding his liquor like a champ, tossing back another shot and slamming it onto the counter with a victorious smirk.

“Come on, detective—don’t tell me that’s all you got.”

River grumbled something unintelligible, swaying slightly before grabbing another shot.

On the other side of the room, Misty’s tarot reading corner had become a full-blown fortune-telling shrine. People gathered around like moths to a neon flame, hanging onto her every word. A corpo guy looked visibly disturbed, eyes flicking between his reading and his drink like he wasn’t sure which would kill him first.

V chuckled against the mic, watching the scene unfold.

The night had settled into a hazy afterglow, the energy from the party still buzzing in the air, but quieter now. The once-roaring house was a battlefield of the aftermath—empty glasses, half-finished drinks, and bodies sprawled across every available surface.

At some point, Jackie passed out on the couch, his arm wrapped around Misty in a lazy cuddle. She had dozed off too, nestled against him, tarot cards still clutched in her fingers.

River was out cold on another couch, one arm hanging off the edge, legs sprawled out, looking far too comfortable for someone who just lost a drinking contest.

V stood there, hands on her hips, laughing quietly at the sight. She never thought she’d see River in such a state.

Kerry sat slumped at the bar, staring into his glass, completely wasted. His usual cocky smirk was gone, replaced with something tired, something fragile.

She slid into the seat next to him, nudging his arm. “You okay?”

Kerry let out a dry, humorless chuckle. “You’re really asking me that?” His voice was slurred but held something deeper, something heavy.

V raised an eyebrow. “Yeah. I am.”

He sighed, rubbing his face before staring down at his drink. “This house… you ever think about how quiet it gets? How big it feels when you’re the only one in it?” His voice dropped lower, almost like he was talking more to himself than to her. “At some point, you start filling it with noise just so you don’t hear the silence.”

V didn’t answer right away. Instead, she let the silence settle between them.

She knew that feeling too well.

The nights alone. The echoes of voices long gone. The weight of an empty space that once held warmth.

Finally, she spoke. “Yeah. I get it.”

Kerry scoffed, shaking his head. “Nah, you don’t. You still got people, V. River. Jackie. That kid, Randy. Misty, even. And somehow, even me.” He laughed, but it was brittle, barely holding together.

V leaned against the counter, watching him. “Yeah. You do too, dumbass.”

Kerry blinked, caught off guard.

She nudged his arm again. “You’re not alone, Ker. You got me. And, hell, even the lugheads passed out in your house right now.” She smirked, motioning toward the disaster zone behind them. “You call this house empty?”

Kerry let out a breathy laugh, shaking his head, but his expression softened. “Yeah… maybe you’re right.”

He hesitated before looking at her, eyes glassy, distant. “You and me… we’re family, huh?”

V’s lips quirked, but there was nothing teasing in it—just honesty, warmth. “Yeah, Kerry. We are.”

His breath hitched, and for a second, he didn’t move. His fingers clenched around the glass, his jaw working, like he was trying to swallow something down but failing.

And then, his shoulders shook.

A quiet, broken laugh escaped him, but it wasn’t laughter at all—it was a sob, strangled and caught in his throat. He wiped his face aggressively, trying to hide it, but it was too late.

“Shit,” he muttered, voice cracking. “Fuck, I hate you.”

V grinned, leaning against the counter, letting him have the moment. “Love you too, choom.”

He sniffed, still wiping at his face, muttering curses under his breath. “This is embarrassing. I should’ve stopped at the last shot.”

V shrugged. “Nah. You needed this.”

After a while, Kerry sniffed, wiping at his eyes aggressively. “Fuck off. You’re not seeing this.”

V smirked. “Oh, I’m seeing it. And I’m never letting you live it down.”

Kerry groaned, muttering something about ruining his street cred, before pushing off the bar. “I’m going to bed before I embarrass myself more. You crash here. All of you.”

He stumbled toward the stairs, mumbling curses under his breath. V watched him go, the weight in his steps a little lighter than before.

As the night quieted, V leaned back against the bar, staring at the ceiling, letting the hum of the city beyond the windows fill the silence Kerry had left behind.

V stayed behind at the bar, letting it all settle around her, the weight of the night pressing into her bones. She traced the rim of her glass absentmindedly, feeling the cool condensation against her fingertips. It was a rare thing, this kind of night.

The kind that reminded you that you weren’t alone.

She closed her eyes for a moment, exhaling deeply.

“You should get some rest too, ya know.”

V opened one eye to find Johnny materializing beside her, arms crossed, looking at her with a mixture of his usual smugness and something more restrained.

Something almost… grateful.

She smirked. “Didn’t know you cared.”

Johnny rolled his eyes. “I don’t. Just don’t need you passing out on the damn floor.”

V huffed a quiet laugh, shaking her head. “That worried about me, huh?”

Johnny didn’t answer right away. He just stared at her, his expression unreadable before finally sighing. “Just… you did good tonight. For Kerry. And for yourself.”

That caught her off guard.

She looked at him, really looked, and for the first time, Johnny wasn’t just an engram in her head.

He was there.

He was real.

And maybe, in some weird, fucked-up way, he was family too.

V let out a slow breath. “Yeah, well. Guess I’m just a sucker for washed-up rockstars.”

Johnny snorted, shaking his head. “Fuck you.”

V sighed, pushing off the barstool. “Come on, Rockerboy. Let’s go pass out before one of us starts crying.”

Johnny snorted. “Yeah, yeah. Whatever you say, Samurai.”

V made her way to the couch where River was, careful not to trip over discarded bottles or Kerry’s expensive rug.

She stood there for a moment, watching him. The way his brow was slightly furrowed even in sleep, like he was still carrying the weight of the last few days.

V knelt down beside him, brushing his cheek. He stirred slightly at the touch, his eyes fluttering open.

“Hey,” he murmured, his voice rough with sleep.

V smiled. “Hey yourself.”

River blinked blearily at her before reaching for her, his hand finding hers in the dim light. “C’mere.”

She hesitated for half a second before sighing and crawling onto the couch with him, fitting herself against him like they were two pieces of the same whole.

River wrapped his arm around her, pulling her close, his warmth immediately seeping into her, grounding her.

“You okay?” His voice was barely above a whisper.

V nodded against his chest. “Yeah. Just… long night.”

River exhaled, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to the top of her head. “Mhm. But a good one.”

V hummed in agreement, her fingers absently tracing patterns along his forearm.

For a while, they didn’t speak. They just lay there, tangled together, the weight of the night settling around them in a way that didn’t feel heavy—just real.

And for the first time in a long time, V let herself be held.

Be safe.

Be home.

***

The sun was merciless. Its golden rays cut through the mansion’s large, sleek windows, illuminating the wreckage of last night's party. The air was thick with the stale scent of whiskey, smoke, and sweat, a sharp contrast to the gentle sound of waves lapping against the cliffside below. The once-lively party house now sat in eerie silence, broken only by the occasional groan of the hungover souls strewn across the mansion like fallen soldiers.

V groaned, rolling over, immediately regretting it. Her head throbbed, her stomach twisted with the distinct nausea of too much alcohol and too little food. But what weighed on her more was the solid warmth draped over her waist.

River.

He was still asleep, face buried against her neck, his arm locked around her like a human seatbelt. He smelled like whiskey, cigarette smoke, and something undeniably him. The man radiated heat, and for a second, she thought about just staying there, letting the world burn while she nursed her hangover in his arms.

She tried to shift, but River only grumbled something unintelligible before pulling her closer.

Across the room, Jackie was passed out on the couch, his arm lazily draped over Misty. The tarot cards from last night were still scattered across the coffee table, some of them flipped over, foretelling an unknown fate. Misty, still curled up beside him, had one hand resting on his chest, her slow breathing syncing with his.

The mansion itself? Absolutely wrecked.

Empty bottles cluttered the bar. Someone’s leather jacket was thrown over the back of a chair. A few stray articles of clothing—probably belonging to some guests who had snuck out in the early hours—were left behind. Someone had drawn a terrible, almost offensive sketch of Johnny Silverhand on a napkin and placed it by an empty shot glass.

The coffee table? A crime scene.

Napkins with poorly drawn dicks, a smudged lipstick print, and some drunken attempt at Kerry’s signature were strewn across it. Half-eaten snacks, a deck of playing cards, and—was that someone’s bra?

And then, a heavy, uneven shuffle came from upstairs.

A loud groan. A curse.

Then—thud.

Kerry Eurodyne nearly missed the last step as he came stumbling down the grand staircase, barely catching himself on the railing. His sunglasses were still perched on his nose, crooked, and his shirt hung open halfway, revealing the remnants of hickeys and faded tattoos. His usually immaculate hair? A disaster. He looked like he had been hit by a cargo truck and then resurrected purely to suffer.

He gripped the railing like it was the only thing keeping him upright as he trudged into the room, scanning the devastation with bloodshot eyes.

"Jesus fucking Christ..." he rasped.

V smirked, head still pounding. "Morning, Sunshine."

"Morning, my ass.Fucking hell… who the fuck let me drink that much?" Kerry mumbled, his voice hoarse and grumbly as he dragged himself toward the bar.

V smirked, sitting up with effort. "I dunno, Rockerboy. Maybe the same person who kept making shots till sunrise?"

Kerry grunted. "Past me is a fucking menace."

He grabbed an empty whiskey bottle, inspected it, then sighed dramatically before setting it down.

River groaned beside V, his face half-buried in the cushions. "If you’re making noise, bring coffee."

Kerry responded with a middle finger before stumbling his way to the bar, surveying the damage.

Jackie stirred on the couch, cracking one eye open. "Ugh… what time is it?"

Misty groaned, face still buried against his chest. "Time for us to rethink our life choices."

River finally attempted to sit up but immediately regretted it. "Fucking hell."

"Welcome to hell," Kerry muttered. He eyed the chaos that was his once-pristine mansion and let out a long, regretful sigh.

Misty sat up, rubbing her temples as she started gathering her scattered tarot cards. She picked one up, squinting at it.

"Should’ve drawn The Tower last night. Might’ve saved us from making bad decisions."

Jackie chuckled. "Nah, Misty. The only thing that could’ve saved us was divine intervention."

Then came a horrified groan.

They all turned to see River sitting up, blinking in utter betrayal at his own reflection in the blacked-out TV screen, like he had just remembered something unforgivable.

"Did we… make out in front of everyone?"

V smirked. "Oh yeah. You got territorial, too."

River groaned again, dragging his hands down his face. "Fucking kill me."

Jackie cackled. "Bro, you were like a jealous golden retriever. If V so much as looked at another person, you were ready to throw hands."

V stretched out lazily, grinning. "Yeah, what was that thing you said? Oh right—'Your flirting time is up. Only flirt with me.'"

River flopped backward onto the floor. "Nope. Not talking about it."

Kerry let out a long, exhausted sigh, glancing around his disastrous mansion.

"You know, I used to hate mornings like this," he muttered. "Waking up hungover, in an empty house, nothing but silence. But this?" He exhaled slowly, rubbing his forehead. "This, I don’t mind."

V studied him for a moment. His voice was quiet, but there was something vulnerable in it.

She shifted, watching him carefully. "Johnny would’ve liked this, you know."

Kerry blinked, looking at her. "Yeah?"

V gave a small smile. "Yeah. Said something about how it was good to see you like this. That you’ve gone soft, sentimental."

Kerry scoffed, but his lips twitched. "Fucking bastard."

V chuckled. "Also said last night was one hell of a show."

Kerry exhaled, rubbing a hand over his face. "Yeah. Yeah, it was."

She nudged his arm. "Told you, Kerry. You got a family whether you like it or not."

Kerry let out a small, tired laugh, shaking his head.

"Yeah, guess I do."

Kerry, in his half-dead state, fumbled for his holo, squinting at the screen like the brightness alone was personally attacking him.

"Alright, fuck this—I’m calling my chef."

"Ariel. Yeah. It’s me. I need the hangover cure special—no, not just for me, for a few people. Yes, I’m alive. Barely. Just get here. Fast."

He hung up with a deep, regretful sigh.

V chuckled, stretching out her sore limbs. "Chef, huh? How bad do your hangovers usually get?"

Kerry ran a hand through his wrecked hair. "You ever had whiskey, tequila, vodka, and something labeled ‘DO NOT DRINK’ in one night?"

River rubbing his face. "Self-inflicted. No sympathy."

Kerry slumped forward onto the bar, forehead resting against the cool surface as if it could somehow absorb his suffering.

"Alright, new rule." His voice was muffled. "No more drinking like crazy motherfuckers."

V snorted. "Good luck enforcing that."

Kerry lifted a hand and lazily waved her off. "No, seriously. I want to survive the next forty-eight hours without feeling like my liver is actively filing for divorce."

Jackie, still sprawled out on the couch, groaned. "Too late, man. Pretty sure mine already packed its bags and left."

River muttered, "Told you, self-inflicted. No sympathy."

Kerry shot him a glare but was too drained to put any heat behind it. Instead, he sighed, rolling his shoulders like even his bones were hungover. "So, you all staying?" He lifted his head slightly to look at them. "Figured we could do something that doesn’t involve—" he motioned vaguely at the wreckage of bottles and shot glasses, "—actively trying to kill ourselves."

V caught the shift in his tone instantly. It wasn’t just an invitation; it was a request. A quiet, unspoken ask.

She stretched, still sore from the night before, and nudged River with her knee. "What do you think? Feel like spending the day here?"

River tilted his head back, sighing, his voice still hoarse from whatever ungodly mix of alcohol they had consumed. "I mean… what’s the alternative? Go home and stare at the walls while regretting my life choices?" He glanced at Kerry. "What are you thinking?"

Kerry perked up slightly, trying not to seem too eager. He shrugged, playing it cool, but his fingers tapped idly on the countertop. "Figured we could do something that doesn’t involve trying to actively destroy our livers. BBQ sounds nice."

Jackie, half-conscious on the couch, let out a groan. "Food? Good. Moving? Bad."

Misty sat cross-legged in a chair, absentmindedly shuffling her tarot deck. "Could be a good way to reset. Let the house absorb some good energy for once."

Kerry snorted. "That, or just fill it with the smell of grilled meat and regret."

V laughed, leaning forward on the counter. "You got a grill, Rockstar?"

Kerry raised a brow, insulted. "Do I look like someone who cooks? No. But I got one installed ‘cause my chef bitched about it. Ariel’s gonna handle most of it."

V smirked, glancing at River. "Still, someone’s gotta flip some burgers. You in?"

River grunted. "Do I have a choice?"

V grinned. "Nope."

Ariel arrived within the hour, looking entirely unfazed by the disaster zone that was Kerry’s mansion. He carried a large cooler filled with ingredients, set his bag down with practiced efficiency, and immediately got to work. The kitchen was soon filled with the rich scent of coffee, eggs, crispy bacon, and the ominous green liquid that was, apparently, a hangover cure.

“Drink this,” Ariel commanded, handing them each a glass. “Don’t ask what’s in it.”

Jackie took one sip and immediately gagged. “Tastes like ass.”

Misty, ever the wise one, downed hers in one go. “That means it’s working.”

V and River exchanged wary glances before taking cautious sips. It was disgusting, but almost instantly, the nausea eased, and their heads felt slightly less like they were being crushed in a vice.

Kerry, however, just stared at his drink, debating his life choices.

"Do I have to?"

"Yes," Ariel deadpanned.

With a theatrical sigh, Kerry chugged it like a shot of the worst liquor imaginable

Even rockstars had to clean up their mess.

Misty, ever the peaceful presence, started organizing things with quiet efficiency, stacking glasses and clearing tarot cards off the floor. Jackie, on the other hand, picked up a single bottle, sighed dramatically, and immediately collapsed back onto the couch.

“I tried.”

River shook his head, picking up empty cans. “That’s weak, hermano.”

Kerry moved a single chair back into place before grabbing his coffee and dramatically slumping into it. “Delegating. That’s what real leadership looks like.”

V smirked. “That’s what laziness looks like.”

By noon, the backyard was bustling with movement. The once chaotic mansion now radiated a rare sense of peace, the aftermath of their wild night slowly giving way to the promise of a lazy, sun-soaked day. The sleek, high-tech grill on the patio was finally fired up, glowing softly with its built-in neon-blue interface. It looked like something straight out of a Corpo kitchen catalog—far too expensive for someone who never cooked.

Kerry, of course, kept a respectable distance from it, leaning back in a lounge chair with his sunglasses back on, beer in hand. "I supervise," he declared, exuding the energy of an overpaid CEO watching his employees do all the real work.

V raised an eyebrow. "Supervise, huh? You sure you're not just avoiding doing anything?"

Kerry smirked. "Delegation is a skill, sweetheart."

Ariel worked efficiently, marinating steaks, skewering vegetables, and preparing enough food to feed an army. River, having rolled up his sleeves, was flipping burger patties like he’d been doing it his whole life. V leaned against the counter, watching him with a slow grin.

"Damn, look at you. Mr. Policeman turned master chef."

River glanced at her with a smirk. "Told you I knew my way around a grill."

Jackie, ever the opportunist, hovered near the food, sneaking bites whenever he thought Ariel wasn’t looking. Misty was helping with the sides, slicing tomatoes and onions with delicate precision, her usual quiet presence blending seamlessly into the moment.

Then, of course, came the inevitable moment when the heat really hit.

V, deciding that the sun was way too intense to be standing around fully clothed, disappeared inside for a moment before stepping back out onto the patio in a sleek, black swimsuit. The cut was teasing, low in the front, open in the back, the kind of thing designed to grab attention.

And oh boy, did it work.

River, in the middle of flipping a burger, faltered, the spatula nearly slipping from his fingers. He swallowed hard, doing his absolute best to focus on literally anything else. "You, uh… you plan on swimming, or just trying to kill me?"

V grinned, stepping up beside him, leaning in just enough to make it worse. "Who says I can’t do both?"

River let out a slow exhale, shaking his head. "You're impossible."

Meanwhile, Jackie had just caught sight of Misty stepping out in her own swimsuit—a simple, soft lavender one-piece that still managed to have him staring like he’d forgotten how to breathe. His usual confident demeanor flickered for a moment, and V had to bite back a laugh as he quickly busied himself with grabbing a beer, anything to distract from how red his face had gotten.

Misty, completely unaware, tilted her head. "Jackie? You okay?"

Jackie coughed into his drink. "Yeah, yeah. Just—uh—hot out here, ya know?"

Kerry, watching all of this unfold from his lounge chair, sighed like an exhausted father who had somehow been roped into babysitting a bunch of hormonal teenagers. "You idiots," he muttered under his breath, shaking his head as he took another sip of his beer.

But beneath the sarcasm, there was something else—something softer. A small, almost invisible smile tugged at his lips as he watched them laugh, tease, exist.

Yeah. He could get used to this.

With the food devoured and the afternoon heat creeping into that lazy, golden hour haze, the natural next step was the pool.

Jackie, now fully embracing the relaxed atmosphere, was the first to declare, “Ain’t no way I’m sitting in this heat any longer.” Without a second thought, he walked straight to the pool’s edge and flopped in like a giant kid, water splashing up in waves.

V stood at the edge, arms crossed, watching him float on his back. "Graceful."

Jackie lifted his head, grinning. "Like a fuckin' dolphin."

Misty giggled, stepping closer. "More like a beached whale."

Jackie clutched his chest, pretending to be deeply wounded. "Oof. Right in the heart, chica."

River, meanwhile, was rolling his sore shoulders, trying to decide whether it was worth jumping in himself. The hangover was still lingering at the edges, but the water did look pretty damn inviting.

V, ever the troublemaker, nudged him with her hip. "C'mon, big guy. You afraid of a little water?"

River shot her a look. "Afraid? Please." And before she could react, he grabbed her hand and dragged her in with him.

V yelped, arms flailing as she hit the cool water, sending a massive splash over the edge of the pool. She surfaced with a gasp, flipping her soaked hair out of her face, eyes immediately locking onto River.

"Oh, you bastard."

River just smirked. "You challenged me. This is on you."

Misty laughed from the side, before sitting at the edge of the pool, dipping her feet in the water. Kerry, still in his chair, raised an eyebrow at her.

“You getting in or just spectating?”

Misty hummed, considering it. “I think I like the view from here.”

Kerry let out a dramatic sigh. "Fucking lightweights."

Jackie, however, wasn’t about to let that slide. He pulled himself up, water dripping off his shoulders, eyes locked on Kerry like a predator who had just found its prey.

“You’re getting in, old man.”

Kerry barely had time to process the very bad energy coming his way before Jackie lunged.

“JACKIE, DON’T YOU F—”

SPLASH!

The impact sent a wave of water spilling over the poolside, Kerry resurfacing seconds later, sputtering, sunglasses floating beside him. “You absolute—fuck!”

Jackie, laughing way too hard, swam away like a man who knew he had just committed a grave sin. "Love ya, Kerry!"

V wiped water from her eyes, gasping between laughs. “Okay, okay, that was worth it.”

Kerry groaned, running a hand down his face. "I'm never inviting you assholes over again."

V grinned. "Sure, sure. Keep lying to yourself."

Kerry didn’t respond—just flipped her off before floating on his back, eyes closed.

And for a while, that was all there was. Just existence. Laughter. Splashing. The golden sun dipping toward the horizon, reflecting off the water in a hundred scattered diamonds.

For someone who had spent most of his life living in the fast lane, drowning in the noise of the world, Kerry suddenly realized—

This?

This was nice.

The pool water had settled into a gentle ripple, golden reflections dancing across its surface as the sun slowly dipped toward the horizon. V leaned against the pool’s edge, arms resting on the cool tiles, her head tilted back in sheer contentment. Jackie had drifted to one side, floating lazily, while Misty kept her feet in the water, watching him with amusement. River had pulled himself up onto the steps, half-submerged, one arm resting along the edge near V, his fingers idly trailing through the water.

And Kerry?

Kerry was still dramatically floating on his back, sunglasses now retrieved, arms spread like some tragic, washed-up god of rock. He let out a long, exhausted sigh.

“You know…” he started, voice dripping with self-inflicted tragedy. “Back in my day, parties weren’t just one-night things. They were marathons. Days blurred into nights, cities blurred into each other. We lived on cheap booze, bad decisions, and whatever the hell we could get our hands on.”

V smirked, turning her head toward him. “Yeah? And look where that got you—face down on your own bar with a hangover that could kill a lesser man.”

Kerry scoffed, lazily kicking one foot through the water. “Pfft. Like I haven’t had worse. I survived the ‘20s, kid.”

Jackie finally cracked an eye open. "Damn, Kerry, how many times you almost didn’t make it?"

Kerry snorted. “Oh, too many to count. I should’ve died, like, six times, minimum.”

Misty tilted her head. "The cards never had death in store for you, Kerry. You're one of those who just... refuses to go down."

Kerry sat up, finally, his wet hair sticking up in every direction. He stretched out his arms dramatically. "Damn right. But man, let me tell you—those days? Wild. I had it all. Fame. Fortune. Women. Men. All of it."

V chuckled. “And somehow, all that still led to you being hungover with us losers, huh?”

Kerry grinned, shaking his head. "Nah, see, that’s the thing. I don’t regret this. Hell, this is the most fun I’ve had in a long time."

River, who had been quiet for most of the conversation, finally lifted an eyebrow. "You don’t miss the old life?"

Kerry let out a short laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. "I miss parts of it. The high of being on stage, the fucking rush of it. The way the world seemed like it belonged to me for those few hours. But the rest?" He exhaled, shaking his head. "The media hounds, the leeches, the fake-ass people that only showed up when they needed something? Nah. I don’t miss that one bit."

V watched him carefully, sensing there was more beneath the surface. "What about your family?"

Kerry went quiet for a moment, his jaw tightening slightly before he sighed, rubbing a hand down his face. "That’s… complicated."

Jackie pushed himself up from his float, suddenly looking a little more invested. "Wait, wait—you mean like, actual family? You got kids?"

Kerry gave a short, dry laugh. “Surprised? What, you thought I just existed this whole time with zero evidence of bad life choices?”

Jackie whistled. “Shit, Kerry. Never pegged you as the dad type.”

Kerry shrugged. “I wasn’t. That was the problem.” He sighed, leaning back on his hands, eyes on the sky now. "Had two kids with my ex-wife. Was too busy being Kerry Eurodyne to be anything else. Sure, I paid for everything—best schools, best care, all that corpo luxury bullshit. But being there? I was too fucked up in my own world to be a real father."

V didn’t miss the way his voice dipped slightly at the end.

Misty, ever gentle, asked, "Do you still talk to them?"

Kerry shook his head. "Nah. One's full corpo now, working for Biotechnica. Other one? Last I heard, he’s somewhere in Atlantis, doing god-knows-what. Neither of 'em wanna hear from me, and I don’t blame ‘em."

River, frowning slightly, crossed his arms. "You ever think of reaching out?"

Kerry scoffed, shaking his head. "And say what? ‘Hey, sorry I wasn’t around, but I’m totally ready to play dad now at my old-ass age’? Yeah, that’d go over real well."

V nudged his arm. "You don’t know that."

Kerry exhaled, shoulders slumping slightly. "Maybe. But some wounds don’t just... heal. Sometimes you just gotta live with ‘em."

There was a beat of silence before Jackie, ever the master of timing, decided to break the tension in the most Jackie way possible.

"So wait—does this mean you’ve been married?"

Kerry let out a loud groan, flopping onto his back. "Ugh. Don’t remind me."

V grinned. "How many times?"

Kerry groaned louder. "Only one. Fell plenty. Just never landed right."

Jackie laughed, slapping the water. "Damn, Kerry, you really did live the full rockstar life."

Kerry pointed at him, sunglasses sliding down his nose. "Don’t ever fucking do it, Jackie. Trust me."

Misty raised an amused eyebrow. "And what about love?"

Kerry let out a groan, scrubbing a hand down his face. "Oh, fuck love. That’s a fairy tale, Misty. Lust? Passion? That shit’s real. But love? That’s a fucking trap."

Chapter Text

A few days had passed since the night at Kerry’s. Life didn’t slow down, not in Night City. V found herself pulled back into the rhythm of gigs—this time, running with the Aldecaldos, helping them transport supplies through dangerous routes and keeping scavengers at bay.

It was different from the usual merc work. There was a sense of family in everything they did, in the way they shared meals, in the way Panam always had something to say about V’s driving, in the way Mitch grumbled but always had her back.

After one particularly long day of escorting a convoy through the Badlands, V stood by her bike, watching the sun dip below the horizon. The sky burned in shades of orange and violet, casting long shadows over the sand.

"You sure you don’t wanna stick around longer?" Panam asked, nudging V’s shoulder. "Got some ice-cold beers waiting."

V smirked, shaking her head. "Tempting, but I got a certain detective waiting for me back in the city. Besides, if I stick around too long, you might start calling me an Aldecaldo."

Panam chuckled. "Like that’s a bad thing."

V glanced over at the nomads, watching as Mitch and Saul went over a map, Cassidy laughed over something with Carol, and a group of younger Aldecaldos cleaned up their bikes. There was something comforting about the way they moved, always working together, always looking out for one another.

Maybe it wasn’t such a bad thing.

But Night City still had its claws in her.

"I’ll come by again soon," she promised.

Panam gave her a knowing smirk. "You better."

By the time she made it back to Night City, the neon glow had overtaken the skyline, painting everything in electric blues and pinks. Instead of heading home, V took a detour to Heywood, where River’s new office was still coming together.

It was small, but solid. Second floor of an old building, far from the corpo glare but close enough for steady work. The paint on the walls was fresh, a deep blue that made the place feel more serious. A wooden desk sat in the center, still half-buried under paperwork. The couch against the wall looked like it had been sat on maybe once.

And outside, flickering in neon letters:

R. WARD, PRIVATE INVESTIGATOR.

The office still smelled like fresh paint and burnt ozone from soldering equipment—part new beginnings, part stubborn DIY spirit. The walls were mostly bare except for a few framed badges and commendations Jackie had convinced River to hang. Misty’s potted plant—a squat little jade with a pink ribbon tied around its pot—sat in the windowsill like a silent guardian. And in the corner, a humming security panel blinked green, hooked into a decent network setup tucked discreetly in the backroom.

V stepped inside, boots clicking against the scuffed wooden floor. She paused, hands on her hips, taking it all in with a crooked smile.

“Looks… professional.”

River looked up from where he was wrangling with an old-fashioned coffee maker that hissed like it resented being dragged out of retirement. He gave her a dry look. “That supposed to be a compliment?”

She shrugged one shoulder, eyes twinkling. “Maybe. It's just... weird seeing your name up in neon. Like you're a real adult or something.”

Outside, the sign flickered a little as if on cue—R. WARD, PRIVATE INVESTIGATOR—blazing red with a soft blue underglow. V had picked the colors. River had rolled his eyes, but let her win that one without a fight.

“Jackie helped haul in the desk,” V said, stepping further in. “Misty brought the plant for vibes. And I rigged up the tech, so technically, I co-founded this place.”

River chuckled, cracking his back as he stood. “That right? Should I start calling you my business partner now?”

“Only if I get a cut.” She grinned. “And an espresso machine.”

He laughed under his breath. “You’re lucky this one even turns on.”

“Still smells like dust and paint in here.”

“Gotta start somewhere.”

River leaned back against his desk, folding his arms across his chest. His tone shifted, turning more serious. “First case came in this morning. Missing kid.”

V’s smirk faded. “How old?”

“Fourteen. Emilio Vasquez. Disappeared on his way to school. Parents are wrecked, but NCPD won’t touch it. No gang ties, no big corp interest. Just another kid from Heywood.”

Her expression darkened. “That’s bullshit.”

“Yeah,” he muttered. “It is.”

She nodded once, sharp and sure. “Alright. So what do we got? Street cams? Friends? School logs?”

River paused, his gaze flicking to her. “We?”

V met his eyes, a challenge there—stubborn and fond. “I did help build this place. Feels like I got some ownership, no?”

He didn’t answer right away, just looked at her. There was that flicker in his eyes again—concern he tried to hide behind the usual dry humor and casual posture. But she wasn’t buying it. Not with how long they’d known each other. Not after everything.

“You’re still wiped out,” he said softly. “I can see it in your eyes. You’re running on fumes.”

V smirked, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Nah, I’m fine. Just—long few weeks. You know how it is.”

River stepped closer, tilting his head as he studied her. “V.”

Her shoulders dropped a bit, the weight she was trying to carry alone finally starting to show in the sag of her posture.

“…Fine,” she relented, softer now. “But I’m swinging by Vik’s first. Just routine. He’s been on my ass about regular checkups.”

River’s hand dropped to her waist, squeezing gently. “Alright. Tell Vik I said hey. And if he pokes around too much, you’re allowed to kick him.”

“I always do.” She smirked, then leaned in, pressing a quick kiss to his jaw. “You better not fall asleep at your desk, old man. I’m expecting company tonight.”

He grinned, eyes warm. “Wouldn’t miss it.”

He smiled against her skin. “Go. I’ll dig into the files. We’ll talk when you’re back.”

She lingered a second longer, her fingers brushing the back of his hand as she turned to leave. “Don’t start without me.”

“No promises,” he called after her, already flipping open the folder on his desk.

As the door swung shut behind her, River glanced up at the glowing red sign outside.

R. Ward, Private Investigator.

It had a nice ring to it. But it felt a hell of a lot better knowing she was part of the story too.

***

Vik’s clinic hadn’t changed.

Same old cluttered workspace, same sterile tang of antiseptic fighting a losing battle against the smell of oil, solder, and something vaguely burnt. The hum of outdated machines filled the background like a familiar old song. Tools lay scattered on every surface, stacked between outdated medical journals and empty energy drink cans. It was chaos—but functional chaos, the kind that somehow only Vik could make work.

The man himself was hunched over his desk, thick lenses over his eyes as he adjusted something small and delicate on his cyberdeck, fingers moving with patient precision.

"Well, well," he said without looking up. "Look who’s still alive."

V stepped inside, letting the door swing shut behind her with a soft click. She smirked, hands shoved into the pockets of her jacket. “Don’t sound so surprised.”

“I’m always surprised with you.” He finally turned in his chair, pushing the lenses up onto his forehead and rubbing his temples with a tired sigh. “Half the time I expect to find your cyberware walking in here without the rest of you.”

“Harsh,” she said, hopping onto the worn exam chair like it was her throne. “But fair.”

Vik just grunted and picked up the scanner from his desk. The metal wand whirred to life as he waved it slowly over her, his eyes flicking between the data readout and her face. She watched him in return, searching for that subtle shift in expression—the twitch of a brow, the purse of his lips—that always came before bad news.

The silence stretched, filled only with the soft beeping of the diagnostic machines and the distant rumble of traffic outside.

After a minute, he sighed and rubbed at the back of his neck. “Well… could be worse.”

She tilted her head. “Not exactly a confidence booster, Vik.”

He gave her a look. “Relic’s still in play, yeah. Still embedded like a tick, but… it’s stabilized. Progressing slower than it was before. Honestly, it’s kind of weird.”

“Weird how?”

“Like your system’s adapting. Mutating around it. Slowing it down. It’s not stopping, but it’s not rushing toward the finish line anymore either.”

V let out a long breath, tension bleeding from her shoulders. “So I’m not gonna drop dead tomorrow?”

Vik huffed, setting the scanner down with a clack. “Not if you don’t do anything stupid.”

She grinned. “No promises.”

He muttered under his breath, something that sounded suspiciously like 'damn stubborn girl' before setting the scanner aside and wiping his hands on a towel. “Look, just keep doing what you’re doing. Whatever the hell it is. Eat, sleep, drink less—hell, find something good"

“Aw, you getting all sentimental on me, old man?”

Vik grunted, but his expression was softer now, the usual lines on his face easing a little. “I’m just saying… the universe finally stopped trying to kill you every second of the day. Maybe don’t tempt it. You’ve danced with death enough for one lifetime.”

V hopped off the chair, stretching until her back gave a satisfying crack. “You know what I think?”

He raised an eyebrow, already suspicious. “Do I want to?”

“I think it’s your turn to find someone, Vik.”

He blinked slowly, like the words hadn’t quite translated. “…The hell are you on about?”

She grinned, walking over to him with that same mischievous glint in her eye she used to have when she’d stroll into his clinic bleeding, grinning, and asking for a patch job and a lollipop. “I’m serious! You’ve been holed up in this cave long enough. You need a nice girl. Someone who’ll make you eat actual food, maybe throw out that top you’ve been wearing since 2040.”

“It’s not crusty,” he muttered, glancing down at it, affronted. “It’s vintage. There's character.”

“Yeah, it’s growing character,” she said, nudging him with her elbow. “You ever think maybe you’re the one who needs a little saving now and then?”

Vik crossed his arms, trying to stay gruff, but the corners of his mouth were twitching. “What kind of meds did I give you today? 'Cause you're clearly high.”

“I want a mom, Vik,” she announced dramatically, spreading her arms. “A hot mom. Someone cool enough to do drive-bys and help me pick out earrings. Someone who’ll put me in my place and give you grief for never using the good plates.”

“Jesus, V,” he groaned, dragging a hand down his face.

“I’m thinking a nomad lady,” she continued, undeterred. “Someone tough, drives a beast of a ride, knows how to weld and swear, maybe even take you on a few joyrides through the Badlands—”

“Are you trying to give me a heart attack?” he said, looking genuinely scandalized now.

She laughed, really laughed, the sound filling the cramped clinic. “C’mon, you deserve someone. You’ve taken care of everyone else all these years. Me, Misty, half the street. Time someone took care of you for a change.”

There was a pause—just long enough for the words to settle.

“You’re a pain in the ass,” Vik muttered.

She leaned in, nudging him again. “You love me.”

He was quiet for a beat, then looked at her—really looked at her. That same look he gave her years ago the first time she stumbled into his clinic, too proud to admit how close to breaking she was. That same look he’d given her after Johnny happened, after she came back changed and quieter, all hard edges and defiance.

But under all that… she was still his girl.

“Yeah,” he said, voice rougher than before. “I do.”

He reached out, hand finding her shoulder. This time the squeeze was firm, lingering. Not just support—but pride. Worry. The kind of love that didn’t always say itself out loud, but showed up in a steady hand and a place that was always open, no matter how late the hour or how bad the wound.

“You’re still running on borrowed time,” he said, voice low, steady. “But now maybe it’s not that borrowed. That means something. So don’t waste it. Find something good.”

“I intend to,” she murmured, voice a little quieter now.

They stood like that for another breath—just two souls who’d seen too much of the world, stubborn and scarred and still standing.

Then she pulled away with a smile, slapping his arm. “Alright. Enough mushy stuff. I’m getting out of here before I start crying or you make me eat real vegetables.”

“Don’t tempt me,” Vik grumbled, already turning back to his tools.

As she stepped out onto the street, the city hit her all at once—distant gunfire, neon glare, the hum of engines and a thousand conversations stacked on top of each other. But today, it didn’t feel so loud. Didn’t feel so heavy.

She walked a little taller, a little steadier.

Things still weren’t perfect. Might never be.

But she had time now.

And she wasn’t going to waste a single second of it.

***

The city hummed outside, neon reflections crawling up the rain-slicked streets like electric veins. Sirens in the distance. A soft hiss of steam rising from sidewalk vents. Everything felt just a little too alive for how late it was.

The moment V stepped inside her apartment, she let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. The heavy door thunked shut behind her, sealing her off from the chaos. She leaned her forehead against the metal for a second, eyes closed, letting the hum of the building settle into her bones.

It was late. Or early. Or both. Time had started to lose its shape these days. All she knew was that exhaustion had hollowed her out, and Night City didn’t give a damn.

The air inside was familiar—gun oil, stale takeout boxes, faint ozone from her charging weapons—and beneath it all, the subtle ghost of River’s cologne, still clinging to the cushions from where he’d sat that morning. Something cedar and clean and warm. Her throat tightened for half a second.

She thought about calling him. Just hearing his voice. But the silence was too comfortable, too easy to fall into. So instead, she kicked off her boots, peeled off her jacket, and collapsed into the worn-out chair in the corner like her bones had liquefied.

A soft weight landed on her lap a moment later—familiar and warm.

“Nibbles,” she murmured, lips curling into a tired smile. The cat stretched across her thighs and nuzzled into her chest, purring like a tiny engine.

"Yeah, yeah. I missed you too, fuzzball."

She scratched behind the cat’s ears absentmindedly, her other hand lazily opening her personal console. A few new pings lit up the display. Most of it was noise—ads, spam, a few fixer updates, and some automated system warnings that she'd long since learned to ignore.

Then her eyes caught on something strange.

A message.

No sender. No subject. No timestamp.

Just… there.

Her brow furrowed. She leaned forward, gently shifting Nibbles off her lap. The cat made an indignant noise but settled into a patch of warm clothes on the floor.

V stared at the message for a second longer. A ghost email. Not on the grid. Not archived. Not part of any net she could trace.

Her hand hovered over the console’s input pad.

“What the hell?”

She tapped it open.

The screen flickered.

Once. Twice.

The blue-white glow shifted into a faint, glitchy haze. The cursor blinked slowly, like it was waiting. Listening.

A wall of symbols appeared—chaotic. Disjointed. Rows of corrupted characters that scrolled in every direction. No obvious language, no discernible pattern. Like a dead language thrown through a shredder.

She sat up straighter.

This wasn’t just spam.

This was a message meant to be buried.

She pulled up her security net, ran a scan—deep-level, multi-layered, pinged it through Vik’s diagnostic software.

Nothing.

No viruses. No backdoors. No heat signatures. Whoever sent this knew what the hell they were doing.

“Alright,” she muttered, fingers flying across the keyboard, “let’s see what you’re hiding.”

First decryption attempt: failed.

Second: nothing. The code shifted again, symbols rotating like tumblers in a lock.

She narrowed her eyes, heart beginning to pick up its pace.

Third attempt—

The characters froze.

Like they’d been watching her.

The console screen flickered again, this time longer. Glitched out with a sound like a distant whisper caught in static.

V,

I know what’s happening to you.

They won’t be able to help. Arasaka—don’t believe a word they say.

They’re fumbling in the dark, chasing ghosts of their own making.

I’ve been watching. Always. I miss you, and I’m sorry.

One day, when it’s time—I’ll find you.

Trust no one.

–AX

V stared at the screen, heart pounding.

The email felt… wrong. Familiar and distant at the same time, like a whisper from a dream she couldn’t quite remember.

AX.

Her mind raced through possibilities, but no fixer, no corpo, no underground netrunner. Nothing.

And yet—

Something about it gnawed at her, like a memory just out of reach. The way it was written. The way certain words lingered.

"I miss you."

"I’m sorry."

Her stomach twisted.

She moved fast, pulling up a decryption program, running scans, trying to trace the source, but as soon as she made a copy in her neural drive, the email vanished. Just—gone. Like it had never been there.

Nibbles stretched in her lap, completely unfazed by the sudden tension in the room.

V leaned back, staring at the empty screen.

Her mind turned over the words again, trying to dissect them, piece them together. Always watching.

She exhaled sharply.

It couldn’t be.

Her fingers hovered over the keyboard as she mouthed the letters under her breath. A… X…

Her chest tightened.

A name wanted to form in her mind, but she pushed it down.

No. It was just a coincidence. Just another ghost haunting her past.

Because if it wasn’t—

She wasn’t ready for what that meant.

"Well," Johnny’s voice broke the silence, his body form leaning against the wall. "That wasn’t ominous as fuck or anything."

V exhaled through her nose. "Yeah. No kidding."

Johnny tilted his head, watching her with something almost like concern. Almost. "You gonna keep pretending you don’t recognize who sent that, or…?"

V didn’t answer. Instead, she shut down the computer and stood up, rolling her shoulders as if trying to shake off the weight of the past. "I'm taking a shower."

Johnny smirked but didn’t push. "Hot water won’t wash away all your problems, but hey—whatever helps you sleep at night, V."

"Guess I'll have a cold one then."

The cold water hit her skin like a shockwave, stealing the breath from her lungs. A sharp gasp echoed in the tiled bathroom as she braced her hands against the wall, the ice-cold rivulets cascading down her back, washing away the weight pressing against her chest.

She needed this.

She needed to feel something real.

V exhaled slowly, resting her forehead against the chilled tile. The cryptic email still burned in her mind, each word etched behind her eyes like neon afterimages.

I miss you. I’m always looking out for you.

Her fingers curled into fists against the wall.

Her brother.

The idea of him being out there—watching, waiting—sent a shiver down her spine that had nothing to do with the cold. Was it really him? After all these years?

Why now? Why this?

The water pounded against her shoulders, numbing the storm raging inside. Maybe she was just imagining things, looking for meaning where there wasn’t any. Or maybe… just maybe…

She clenched her jaw.

No. No more overthinking.

The cold was her anchor, her reset. It chased away the exhaustion, the frustration, the grief she hadn’t realized was creeping back in. She stayed like that for a long time, letting the icy cascade strip everything away until all that remained was the sound of her own breathing.

After a while, she shut off the water, running a towel through her damp platinum-white hair before throwing on a tank top and some shorts.

Still, the weight of the email sat heavy on her shoulders.

She needed something else—something more.

Her hands moved without thinking, reaching for the fridge, scanning the limited ingredients she had. Then, a thought hit her. A memory.

Chicken and tomato stew.

A dish her mother used to make—simple, warm, something that felt like home, even in a city that tried to steal that feeling from her.

She set to work, grabbing a few tomatoes, slicing them with the practiced ease of someone who had done this a hundred times before. Their juice bled onto the cutting board, pooling alongside finely diced onions and crushed garlic. The scent filled the air as she tossed them into a hot pan, the sharp sizzle echoing in the quiet space.

The glow of her Kiroshi optics adjusted slightly to the steam rising from the pot, her cybernetic fingers deftly stirring as she added in the chicken thighs, letting them brown. The broth thickened, turning a deep, rich red as she let it simmer, the aroma wrapping around her like a long-forgotten embrace.

For a moment, she closed her eyes.

She could almost see it—her mother standing at the stove, her platinum-white hair catching the kitchen light, green eyes soft with warmth. The way she would hum quietly while cooking, offering a small taste off a wooden spoon.

Would she be proud of the person V had become? Would she even recognize her?

Her holo buzzed, yanking her back to reality.

[River W.] 

Gonna be late, still wrapping up a case. Don’t wait up for me.

V exhaled through her nose, staring at the message for a moment before shaking her head.

Instead of putting the food away, she grabbed a container, carefully spooning some of the stew inside. River might not have asked, but she was bringing him dinner anyway.

Johnny’s hologram flickered to life beside her the elevator close.

"Taking dinner to your man? That’s real domestic of you, V. Next thing you know, you’ll be knitting sweaters and talking about mortgage rates."

V rolled her eyes, adjusting the food container under her arm. "Shut up, Silverhand."

He grinned. "Never."

River’s office wasn’t far from her apartment, just a few streets over. The night air was cool, carrying the usual hum of Night City’s restless energy.

The neon glow of streetlights flickered against puddles, the occasional rumble of a distant car breaking the relative quiet. Despite everything—the chaos, the danger, the uncertainty—this city still had its moments.

She walked with purpose, Johnny keeping pace beside her.

"Y’know, it’s kinda funny," he mused, hands in his pockets. "You, all decked out, badass merc, gun for hire—carrying a dinner box like a doting wife."

V smirked. "You jealous, old man?"

"Me? Pfft. Please. I just never pictured you playing house. Not that I’m judging," he added, raising his hands in mock surrender. "Riv looks like the kind of guy who’d build a white picket fence for you if you asked. Maybe even one of those little garden gnome things."

She chuckled, shaking her head. "Don’t think I’m the picket fence type."

"Not yet, anyway," Johnny teased.

Before she could shoot back a retort, they reached the office. The building was nondescript—nothing flashy, just a simple space tucked between a barbershop and a laundromat. The lights inside were still on.

V adjusted the food container, took a breath, and stepped inside.

Whatever was waiting for her in River’s office, she knew one thing—this night was far from over.

The chime of the doorbell echoed softly as V stepped into the office. The air inside was thick with the scent of coffee and old paper, mingling with the faint metallic tang of cyberware oil. It was a stark contrast to the neon-drenched streets outside—quiet, focused, a space meant for work.

River sat behind the desk, one hand rubbing at the tension in his neck, the other scrolling through reports. His coat was slung over the back of his chair, sleeves rolled up to his forearms, exposing the corded muscle underneath. He looked tired but focused—until he glanced up and saw her.

For a second, his expression softened, lips twitching into a small, almost-smirk before his eyes dipped lower, taking in the sight of her.

V had thrown on something comfortable before heading out—a snug tank top under her jacket and a pair of shorts that barely reached mid-thigh. Practical for the heat of her apartment but maybe not the best choice for walking into her boyfriend’s office.

“Didn’t think you’d wait up,” he said, pushing back from the desk.

V smirked, holding up the container. “Didn’t. Figured I’d just bring dinner to you. Didn’t want you living off vending machine burritos and whatever the hell that coffee sludge is.”

River exhaled a laugh, standing up to meet her halfway. “It’s not sludge,” he defended, taking the container from her hands. “But… thanks. Smells amazing.”

She watched as he peeled back the lid, the warm scent of stewed tomatoes, garlic, and chicken filling the room. His brows lifted slightly.

River leaned back in his chair, stretching slightly, muscles shifting beneath his shirt. "“This… homemade? You cook?"

"Don’t sound so surprised."

He chuckled, shaking his head. "Not surprised. Just wondering what I did to deserve this." 

V rolled her eyes but grinned. She perched on the edge of his desk, one leg crossing over the other, the motion slow, deliberate. River’s gaze flickered down—just for a moment—but it was enough.

His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed, shifting slightly in his chair.

V pretended not to notice.

River reached for a fork but paused, fingers brushing lightly over her thigh as he grabbed it.

It was subtle. Barely a touch. But the warmth of it sent a shiver up her spine.

"Thanks," he murmured, before digging in.

V watched, amused as his expression shifted—pleasure flickering over his face as he tasted the food. She leaned forward slightly, resting her elbow on her knee, chin propped in her palm.

"Good?"

River huffed a small laugh, shaking his head. "Damn good. Should’ve had you cooking for me a long time ago."

V smirked. "Mm, careful. Keep saying things like that, I might start charging."

River glanced up, eyes dark with something more than amusement. "I think I’d pay."

There was something heavy in the air now. Not just the warmth of the office or the smell of food—but the way he was looking at her. Like he was debating something. Fighting something.

She smirked, tilting her head, watching him with playful curiosity.

"You’re staring, detective."

River exhaled through his nose, like he was trying to steady himself, but his jaw tensed, his grip on the fork tightening just a little. "Hard not to."

V hummed in amusement, stretching her arms above her head, knowing exactly what she was doing. The way River’s gaze flickered lower, the way his throat bobbed as he swallowed—yeah, she had him.

V uncrossed her legs, deliberately shifting just enough that her thigh brushed his knee.

"You sure you’re hungry for food?" she teased, voice sultry, low.

River leaned back in his chair, gaze dark, burning. "I’m always hungry."

The way he said it sent a pulse of heat straight through her, like a live wire snapping against her skin.

River exhaled through his nose, setting the fork down. His fingers flexed on his thigh like he was debating reaching for her, pulling her closer.

Instead, he pushed his chair back slightly and patted his lap.

"Come here," he said, voice deep, commanding.

V arched a brow, her lips curving. "Thought you were eating?"

River smirked, lifting a hand to brush his fingers along the edge of her shorts, feather-light, teasing. "I am."

A shiver ran up her spine, her pulse quickening as he gripped her hips, pulling her onto his lap. The heat of him burned through the thin fabric of her shorts, and she let out a slow breath, her hands finding his shoulders for balance.

"You really gonna tease me all night?" River murmured against her ear, his lips just barely brushing her skin.

V tilted her head, giving him more access, her fingers slipping into his hair. "Maybe."

His grip on her hips tightened. "Bad idea, babe."

"Oh?" She smirked. "What’re you gonna do about it?"

River didn’t answer—not with words.

Instead, he surged forward, capturing her lips in a kiss that was nothing short of desperate. Rough, deep, the kind of kiss that left no room for doubt. His hands slid lower, fingers digging into her thighs, dragging her closer, until there was no space left between them.

V gasped into his mouth, one hand fisting his shirt, the other tangled in his hair. His scent—warm, musky, laced with the faintest trace of whiskey—wrapped around her, drowning her in him.

He kissed her like he’d been starving for it. Like she was the only thing in the world that mattered.

And fuck, it felt good.

V pulled back just enough to catch her breath, her forehead resting against his. River's gaze flickered to her lips, still dark with hunger.

"You drive me crazy," he murmured.

V grinned, breathless. "Good."

River growled softly, flipping her onto the desk in one smooth motion, his body pressing against hers, his lips trailing down her neck, hot and possessive.

"You flirt with anyone else tonight?" he murmured against her skin.

V smirked, tilting her head to give him better access. "You jealous, Ward?"

River’s teeth skimmed the sensitive skin of her neck, his lips following with a slow, deliberate kiss that sent heat pooling low in her stomach. His hands roamed, rough fingers tracing the curve of her waist before gripping her hips, pressing her against him.

His voice was low, thick with something primal. "You love pushing me, don’t you?"

V smirked, nails dragging teasingly down his back. "Maybe. You gonna do something about it, detective?"

River growled, his grip tightening as he leaned in, breath hot against her ear. "Oh, you’re in for it now, babe."

Then his lips crashed into hers—hungry, desperate, all restraint snapping as he pulled her even closer, making damn sure she knew exactly what she did to him.

The heat between them built fast, searing through the air like a live wire. V gasped as River lifted her effortlessly onto the edge of his desk, his body slotting perfectly between her thighs. Papers scattered, forgotten, as his hands gripped her hips, pulling her flush against him.

His mouth was demanding, lips and teeth teasing her neck, her jaw, before capturing her lips again in a kiss that left no room for hesitation. He tasted like coffee and something darker, something heady that sent a shiver down her spine.

V smirked against his mouth, fingers threading through his hair as she pulled him closer. "Thought you were working late, Ward."

River chuckled, the sound low and rough. "Yeah? And whose fault is that?" His hands slid under her jacket, pushing it off her shoulders.

She arched into his touch, reveling in the way he responded to her. "Mine, apparently."

His grip tightened, his breath warm against her ear. "Damn right it is."

Just as he dipped his head lower, the shrill ring of his holo cut through the moment like a cold blade. River cursed under his breath, resting his forehead against her shoulder.

"You gotta be kidding me."

V laughed, breathless, her hands still tangled in his hair. "Answer it. Could be a case."

He exhaled sharply before pulling back, locking eyes with her. "Don’t move."

V smirked. "Not going anywhere, detective."

River grabbed his phone, scowling as he checked the caller ID. His entire demeanor shifted in an instant. "It’s about the missing kid."

That snapped both of them back to reality. V straightened, adjusting her clothes as River answered. His voice turned sharp, all business. "Yeah? What’s the update?"

She hopped off the desk, watching the tension return to his shoulders. Whatever was said on the other end, it wasn’t good. River’s jaw tightened as he listened, then finally replied, "I’m on my way."

He hung up and turned to her, the fire from before replaced with grim determination. "They found something. Not the kid—just a lead. I need to check it out."

River ran a hand through his hair, still looking a little dazed from the heat between them, but reality was already pulling him back. Duty called. 

V smirked, adjusting the strap of her tank top as she leaned back against his desk, legs crossed deliberately. "Guess work really doesn’t wait, huh?"

River exhaled, his gaze flickering over her before he shook his head. "Yeah. Can’t afford to waste time."

V tilted her head, her smirk deepening. "Shame. And here I was, planning on keeping you up all night, detective."

River groaned, half in frustration, half in something else entirely. He stepped closer, his hands landing on either side of her, caging her in. His voice dropped lower. "You’re really not making this easy for me."

She dragged a finger down the front of his shirt, her touch featherlight. "I wasn’t trying to."

His breath hitched for half a second before he huffed out a laugh, pressing a firm, lingering kiss to her lips before pulling back. "You’re trouble."

V grinned, watching his expression darken as she leaned in, her voice a sultry whisper against his ear. "And when you get back? I’ll be waiting. In your favorite set."

That did it. River let out a sharp breath, gripping the edge of the desk as if it was the only thing keeping him grounded. "V." It was half a plea, half a warning.

She gave him an innocent look, biting back a laugh. "What? Just giving you something to look forward to."

He muttered something under his breath, shaking his head as he took a reluctant step back. "You better be there when I get home."

V’s smirk turned wicked. "I’ll even keep the lights on for you."

River ran a hand over his face, then grabbed his coat, clearly trying to focus on the job ahead—but the tension in his shoulders made it obvious he’d be thinking about her the whole damn time. "You're evil."

V winked. "And you love it."

He gave her one last look, like he was memorizing the sight of her before turning toward the door. "Lock up when you leave."

V watched him go, listening to the way his footsteps faded into the city’s night. The second the door shut behind him, she let out a soft chuckle, stretching her arms above her head.

"Damn, that was fun."

Johnny flickered into view beside her, arms crossed, wearing a smug look of his own. "You really do enjoy torturing that man, huh?"

V shrugged, pushing off the desk. "What can I say? He makes it too easy."

Johnny scoffed. "Right. And you’re not dying to jump him the second he gets back?"

She didn’t answer, just shot him a knowing smile as she glanced around River’s office. The place was a mess—papers scattered across the desk, empty coffee cups stacked precariously on the edge, and a couple of fast-food wrappers tossed carelessly onto the side table.

"For a detective, guy sure doesn’t know how to investigate a trash can," she muttered, rolling up her sleeves.

Johnny flickered into view beside her, arms crossed and a knowing smirk on his face. "And look at you, playing house again. First dinner, now cleaning? Damn, V, next thing you know, you’ll be picking out curtains."

She shot him a look, shaking her head as she grabbed a handful of wrappers and dumped them into the trash. "It’s called basic hygiene, Johnny. Maybe you’ve heard of it?"

"Oh, I know what it is." He drawled, watching as she wiped down River’s desk.

V scoffed but didn’t stop. The place really needed it. She stacked the stray files neatly, sorting through the paperwork that looked like it had been shuffled through in a hurry. Most of it was related to ongoing cases—missing persons, corporate disputes, some personal notes River had jotted down.

Johnny leaned against the wall, eyes scanning the room. "So, what’s the plan, housewife? Gonna leave him a little love note?

V chuckled, shoving an empty cup at his holographic chest, which, of course, went straight through him. "Smartass."

"Seriously though, this is a whole new side of you. Cleaning up after a man, making him dinner, teasing him with lingerie—if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re getting soft."

V stopped for a moment, looking around the now much more organized office. It still had that ‘lived-in’ look—scattered case notes, the faint scent of coffee and leather—but it wasn’t drowning in trash anymore.

She smirked, tossing the last wrapper into the bin. "Soft? Nah. Just taking care of what's mine."

Johnny raised a brow. "Yours, huh?"

V shrugged, grabbing her jacket. "Damn right."

With one last glance at the cleaned-up space, she flicked off the lights and stepped out, locking the door behind her.

***

V stepped through the door of her apartment, toeing off her boots with a sigh. The place was dimly lit, only the neon glow from the city outside casting fractured light across the walls.

"Well, look at you, homemaker extraordinaire. First cleaning up your man’s office, now back here playing house again," Johnny’s voice dripped with amusement as he materialized beside her, arms crossed.

V rolled her eyes, tossing her jacket onto the back of the couch. "If you’re just gonna talk shit, at least make yourself useful and grab a dish towel."

"Oh, absolutely. I’ll just reach out with my ghost hands and scrub those plates real good," he mocked, shaking his head. "Admit it—you like this. A little slice of normal life. Makes you feel grounded."

V didn’t bother responding, heading straight for the kitchen. The sink had a few dishes from earlier, nothing major, but enough to nag at her after spending the last half hour cleaning River’s office. She rolled up her sleeves and started scrubbing, the warm water soothing against her fingers.

Nibbles sauntered up to her, brushing against her legs with a soft purr.

"Yeah, yeah, I know. You’re starving, huh?"

She dried her hands and grabbed a can of cat food from the cabinet, popping it open before setting it down on the floor. Nibbles immediately dove in, tail flicking happily.

With the dishes done and the apartment tidied up, V found herself standing in front of her wardrobe. She opened it, running her fingers over the hangers. The usual mix of mercenary gear, leather jackets, and casual outfits lined the rack, but something else caught her attention.

A few pieces of River’s clothing were hanging there—one of his button-downs, a well-worn hoodie. She smiled, shaking her head.

"Sharing a closet now? You sure you don’t wanna go ahead and get matching mugs while you’re at it?" Johnny teased from behind her.

V ignored him, pushing his voice to the back of her mind as she reached for a deep crimson set of lingerie buried in the back of her wardrobe. She had bought it after their first day, got River's engine up real good each time she wears it.

She slipped into it, adjusting the straps as she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. The lace hugged her curves just right, the color a sharp contrast against her pale skin. It was bold, sultry—just the kind of thing that would make River forget whatever case he was working on the second he walked through that door.

With a smirk, she grabbed one of River’s hoodies and pulled it over herself, drowning in the warmth of it as she padded back to the living room.

The TV droned on in the background, flashes of neon light from the screen casting shifting patterns across the darkened apartment. V sat curled up on the couch, legs tucked under her, River’s hoodie draped over her barely-clad frame. The scent of him lingered in the fabric—leather, a hint of cologne, something warm and unmistakably him.

Johnny was standing near the window, arms crossed, looking out over the city like he had some kind of personal vendetta against the skyline. He hadn’t spoken in a while, just stood there, brooding like only Johnny Silverhand could.

V smirked to herself before breaking the silence. “Hey, Johnny.”

“What, finally bored of staring at the screen?” He turned, one brow arched, his usual cocky smirk in place. “Or just need my expert commentary to spice up your night?”

She chuckled. “Neither. Just thinking.”

“Shit, never a good sign.” He flopped onto the arm of the couch, stretching out like he had all the time in the world. “Alright, out with it.”

She hesitated for a second, then shrugged. “If you could go back—y’know, fix shit—would you have married Rogue?”

Johnny blinked. For once, he didn’t have a snarky response locked and loaded. He ran a hand through his messy hair, exhaling slowly.

“Huh.” He tilted his head, thinking. “Dunno if she’d have let me.” His voice was quieter now, almost reflective. “Rogue wasn’t the type to play house. Neither was I, really. But if shit had gone different? Yeah. Maybe.” He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Not that it would’ve been some fairy-tale ending. Think we’d have just burned each other down in the end.”

V smirked. “That what you tell yourself to sleep at night?”

Johnny scoffed, shaking his head. “Nah. What I tell myself is that I was a stubborn son of a bitch who had a good thing and didn’t know what the fuck to do with it.” He exhaled, rubbing his temple. “You ever tell her that?”

“What would’ve been the point?” He shot her a sideways glance. “By the time I had a second to think about shit like that, I was already in too deep. No turning back.”

She studied him for a moment, watching the way his fingers flexed, restless energy in his hands. “You ever think about it? What life would’ve been like if you didn’t go full ‘burn-the-corpos-to-the-ground’ mode?”

Johnny chuckled, but there wasn’t any real humor behind it. “All the fuckin’ time.” His cybernetic fingers tapped against his knee. “But thinking about it won’t change a damn thing.”

He turned the question back on her. “What about you, V? You ever wonder what life would’ve been like if things went different?”

She leaned back, staring up at the ceiling. “Yeah. Sometimes.” She glanced down, fingers playing with the hem of River’s hoodie. “I think about my parents. Alex. About how things might’ve been if I never left.”

“And?”

“And…” She sighed. “I don’t think that life was ever really mine. Maybe this—Night City, merc life, the shitshow I’m in now—maybe this was where I was always meant to be.”

Johnny studied her, something knowing in his gaze. “Yeah… you and me both.”

Silence stretched between them, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was heavy, full of unsaid things, of ghosts lingering in the space between past and present.

V sighed and reached for her holo, the screen’s glow casting blue light over her hands as she typed out a message to River.

[V]

How much longer? Starting to think I’ll have to warm this bed all by myself.

A smirk tugged at her lips as she set the holo down. No immediate response. Not that she expected one. She make her way upstair to the bed pulling the sheets over her. The lace of her lingerie was cool against her skin, but it was the oversized hoodie that truly kept her warm.

River’s scent. River’s presence. Even in his absence, he was still here.

As her eyelids grew heavy, V let out a small sigh, sinking deeper into the warmth of the sheets. She shifted slightly, turning her head toward where Johnny’s projection still lingered by the window, his figure barely illuminated by the neon glow outside.

“G’night, Johnny.” Her voice was quiet, drowsy, but there was a softness to it.

A beat of silence. Then, almost too soft to catch—

“Night, V.”

And with that, she let sleep take her, the weight of old ghosts and new promises settling into the quiet of the night.

***

The drive home stretched longer than it should have. River’s fingers tapped restlessly against the wheel, his thoughts caught somewhere between exhaustion and anticipation. His holo blinked with an unread message—two hours old.

[River W.]

On my way back.

Shit.

His jaw tightened as he exhaled through his nose, rolling his shoulders in an attempt to shake off the tension. He hoped she was still awake. But knowing how long he took, she’d probably given up and gone to bed. Damn it.

The elevator ride didn’t help—felt like the damn thing was moving at a snail’s pace. River rubbed a hand over his face, staring at the numbers creeping up, his foot tapping impatiently.

When the doors finally slid open, he stepped into the apartment. Dark. Quiet.

But the air was thick with the familiar scent of her perfume—the one she only wore when she was in a certain kind of mood. Fuck.

His grip on his jacket tightened. She’d been waiting for him. She’d planned something. And he was too damn late.

Guilt settled heavy in his chest as he carefully set his things down, kicking off his boots with as little noise as possible before making his way up the stairs.

Then, he saw her.

V was curled up in their bed, wearing his hoodie—his favorite one, the one that always ended up in her wardrobe no matter how many times he reclaimed it. Even in the dim glow of the city lights bleeding through the blinds, he could see the delicate straps peeking from beneath the oversized fabric, the soft lace teasing against the curve of her thighs.

His breath hitched.

River ran a hand over his face, swallowing hard. Christ. He really had fucked up by taking too long.

He lowered himself onto the edge of the bed, his weight barely shifting the mattress as he reached out, brushing away a few strands of silver-white hair that had fallen over her face.

Beautiful. Even now.

She let out a quiet sigh in her sleep, instinctively tilting into his touch.

A slow smirk tugged at his lips as he leaned in, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to her forehead. Then another against her temple. Then lower, his lips barely grazing the curve of her jaw.

"V…," he murmured, voice rough, thick with something dangerous.

She stirred slightly, a soft noise escaping her lips as her breath hitched.

River’s hand trailed down, fingers brushing the lace beneath his hoodie, teasing over the soft skin of her waist. Warm. Always so damn warm.

She shifted again, her lips parting as she blinked, still caught between sleep and wakefulness. Her green eyes met his, hazy, unfocused, before she registered the look in his.

Her lips curled into a knowing smirk. "Took you long enough."

River huffed out a quiet laugh, his forehead pressing against hers. "Yeah… I know," his fingers tracing the edge of the lace as his eyes roamed over her, drinking in every inch of her like a man starved.

V stretched slightly beneath him, her body arching just enough for the fabric of his hoodie to shift, riding higher, revealing more of the delicate lingerie she had chosen for him. His breath hitched at the sight. Black lace, intricate patterns teasing over smooth skin, hugging every curve in a way that made his throat go dry.

Her smirk deepened as she watched him struggle to keep his composure.

"You gonna keep staring, or…?" Her voice was laced with amusement, but there was a heat underneath it—an invitation.

River’s jaw tightened, fingers flexing at his sides before he finally gave in, letting his hands slide up the bare skin of her waist, his rough palms tracing slow, deliberate circles.

"You know exactly what you’re doing," he muttered, voice low, thick.

V hummed, her nails dragging lightly down his chest, the teasing touch sending a shiver through him. "Maybe."

River leaned in, the warmth of his breath ghosting over her lips. "And you think I’m just gonna let you get away with it?"

She tilted her head, eyes gleaming. "Guess that depends on what you're gonna do about it."

A low growl rumbled in his chest before his lips crashed against hers.

The kiss was deep, hungry—all the pent-up tension, all the hours spent apart, all the silent promises of the night before spilling over as he claimed her mouth with raw intensity.

V moaned softly against his lips, her fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him closer.

River groaned, his grip tightening on her hips, pressing her against him as he deepened the kiss, letting her feel just how much she had affected him.

She gasped, and he took the opportunity to explore, his tongue teasing against hers, slow and deliberate, savoring the taste of her.

V shuddered, nails biting into his shoulders, and fuck if that didn’t send a jolt straight through him.

River pulled back just enough to look at her, his breathing heavy, his gaze dark and smoldering. "You’re playin’ a dangerous game, V."

She licked her lips, her smirk never fading. "Good. I like danger."

Damn her.

With a growl, he flipped her onto her back, pressing her into the mattress, pinning her beneath him as he kissed her again—deeper, slower this time.

His hands roamed, memorizing every curve, every dip of her body, fingers tracing the lace teasingly before tugging at it, testing just how much patience he had left.

V arched beneath him, her breath hitching as he left a trail of slow, open-mouthed kisses down the column of her throat, his stubble grazing her sensitive skin, sending shivers through her.

Her fingers tightened in his hair, a quiet, needy sound escaping her lips.

River smirked against her skin. "That all for me?"

V let out a breathless chuckle. "Maybe."

His grip on her hips tightened, his teeth grazing her collarbone in a way that made her shudder.

"Let’s find out."

***

Life in Night City had snapped right back into its pulse-pounding rhythm—gig after gig, another merc job here, a high-stakes infiltration there. One moment she was neck-deep in corps’ dirty secrets, the next dodging bullets in some back-alley firefight. V had stopped counting the days; they all bled into each other. The only constant was the grind.

So when Kerry called her up out of the blue, voice all cryptic and urgent, asking her to meet him at some sketchy-ass dive in Rancho Coronado before the sun was even fully up, she was understandably suspicious.

Still, curiosity always won.

The Foodscape Bar looked like it’d been assembled from leftover shipping crates and bad decisions. Wedged between a half-burned laundromat and a pawn shop advertising “Authentic Militech Parts” (spoiler: they weren’t), the place looked one short circuit away from collapsing in on itself.

Its neon sign blinked in a weak loop—FOO∂SCA_E BAR—like the D had wandered off in shame. A lone joytoy loitered across the street, vaping something that smelled faintly of battery acid, while a cyber-hound chased a drone down the alley behind the building.

V spotted Kerry right away.

He was leaning against the driver’s side of what looked like the reanimated corpse of a car—a rusted-out Galena G240, dented and wheezing in the early light. It looked like it had barely survived the Fourth Corporate War and then got run over by a Nomad caravan for good measure.

She strolled up, hands tucked in her jacket, smirk already forming. “This your new ride, Eurodyne? Midlife crisis hitting you real hard, huh?”

Kerry gave her a mock-glare but couldn’t hide his grin. “Borrowed it. Tryin’ to keep a low profile.”

“Yeah, well… you failed,” she said, thumping a hand on the hood. The car groaned in protest. “This thing screams ‘wanted criminal with questionable taste.’”

Kerry gestured at the passenger door. “Get in. I’ll explain.”

The inside was worse. The seats smelled like wet synthleather and despair. The dash flickered between different languages, none of which matched the radio that kept jumping from KPOP 808 to a conspiracy nut ranting about subliminal Arasaka mind control.

V wrinkled her nose. “Did this car die recently or… like, a decade ago?”

Kerry smirked as he started the engine. It coughed like a dying rhino before growling to life.

“Johnny’d love this piece of crap,” V added.

And like he’d been summoned, Johnny materialized in the backseat, legs crossed, leaning back like he owned the joint. “Shit, this car’s got about two more bumps before the doors fall off. I’d almost call it charming.”

“Don’t encourage him,” V muttered.

Kerry ignored her and focused on the road, speeding through the quiet streets of Rancho Coronado. The city was just beginning to stir—neon lights blinking to life one by one, steam rising off the manholes, and street vendors setting up their stalls.

Inside the car, the silence stretched just long enough for Kerry’s knee to start bouncing.

V cut a look at him. “You’re twitchier than usual. Something eating you?”

Kerry tapped the wheel, not looking at her. “Us Cracks. Signed a deal to do a tour in the NUSA.”

She blinked. “That’s good, right? Big break for them.”

“They’re doin’ a cover. Of one of my songs,” he said, bitterness sharpening the edges of his words.

Johnny rolled his eyes. “Lemme guess—didn’t ask permission, didn’t pay the man.”

V whistled low. “Damn. So what? You wanna drop a cease and desist?”

Kerry’s grin turned downright devilish. “Nah. Thinkin’ we send a message.”

V blinked. “A message.”

“Yeah.” He nodded ahead. “Explosive kind.”

Johnny leaned forward in his seat, looking way too pleased. “Now that’s my boy.”

V groaned. “I swear, you and Johnny are gonna get me shot one day.”

Kerry chuckled. “C’mon. You love it.”

They drove out of the city and into the dusty sprawl of the Badlands. The air turned dry, the skyline behind them shrinking into a haze of pollution and neon. They pulled up to a cracked roadside bus stop that hadn’t seen a bus in twenty years. It was rusted to hell, covered in layers of sun-bleached graffiti, and half-shaded by a leaning billboard that advertised Real Water—Now With Less Radiation!

Kerry popped the trunk.

Inside: a tangle of gear. Stinger road spikes, a DIY toolkit, a couple of homemade EMP charges, and—because of course—explosives wrapped in cloth and tucked beneath a false panel.

Johnny gave a long, impressed whistle. “Shit. This is better than most gigs I played back in the day.”

V raised a brow. “Please tell me you at least watched a how-to before rigging these?”

Kerry grinned. “Babe, I watched three. And a half.”

“Comforting,” V muttered, already unrolling the stinger trap across the sand-scattered road.

They worked in silence, the morning sun slowly warming the sand beneath their boots. Insects buzzed in the dry brush. Far off, a Nomad convoy rumbled past, minding their own business.

Kerry dusted off his hands and slumped against the shelter. “Now we wait.”

V kicked a rock and flopped down beside him, stretching out her legs.

“Been a while since we blew something up together,” he said, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth.

V snorted. “You say that like it’s a team-building exercise.”

Kerry shrugged. “Hey, it is in my book.”

They sat in the half-shade, sharing a rare moment of peace. The kind of calm that felt stolen. V glanced over, catching Kerry watching the road, his usual cocky demeanor softened by something almost… nostalgic.

He tilted his head toward her. “So. You holdin’ up okay? Been hearin’ things. About the relic. You… alright?”

She hesitated, then nodded. “For now. Had a checkup with Vik. Said I’ve got a little more time than before. Still tickin’.”

Kerry exhaled. “Good. Don’t go dyin’ on me, V.”

“Not in the plan,” she said, nudging his leg with her boot. “Besides, River’d kill me for real if I bailed on him now.”

“River, huh?” Kerry smirked. “That still a thing?”

V laughed. “That’s... complicated.”

Johnny piped up behind them. “Isn’t it always?”

They both ignored him.

Kerry looked thoughtful, gaze on the road. “Y’know, I envy you sometimes.”

V arched a brow. “Me? Why?”

“You got people. Real ones. Friends. Love. All that shit. I spent so long chasing stardom I forgot to chase anything real.”

She nudged him gently. “You’ve got people too. I’m here, ain’t I?”

Kerry gave her a crooked smile. “Guess you are.”

Then—headlights.

A dusty, matte-gray tour van crested the ridge, cruising along the road at a slow but steady pace. Unmarked, but unmistakably corpo-funded. Probably on its way to shoot some soulless promo vid in the desert.

Kerry stood up, cracking his knuckles.

V smirked. “Showtime.”

Johnny grinned, leaning in close. “Better hope this works, Eurodyne. Or you’re gonna be famous again—but for all the wrong reasons.”

Kerry pull out the remote detonator. “Eh. Infamy’s still a brand.”

V crossed her arms, watching the van approach. “Guess some things never change.”

Kerry glanced at her, expression wild and alive. “Yeah. And thank fuck for that.”

The van neared the trap.

Kerry’s thumb hovered over the trigger.

He looked at V.

She nodded once. “Do it.”

Click.

For a split second, everything held still. The sun beat down on cracked asphalt, dust hovered midair, and the world felt like it had paused to take a breath.

Then the van hit the spikes.

THUNK-thunk-thunk.

And then—

BOOM.

They rushed the smoking wreck, boots crunching over debris, weapons raised. The van’s doors creaked open—barely hanging on their hinges—and two guys stumbled out coughing, eyes wild. They looked more like interns than hired muscle: matching cheap suits, sweaty brows, and not a spine between them.

“Easy, chooms!” one of them yelped, hands sky-high. “We—we don’t want trouble! Just promo junk, we swear!”

V tilted her head. “Promo junk, huh?”

The other one, shaking like a leaf, held out a black keycard. “Access card. Opens the van. Just… take it and let us walk, yeah?”

She glanced at Kerry. He nodded once, jaw clenched.

V snatched the card. “Smart choice. Run before the wind changes.”

They didn’t need telling twice. The two bolted, tripping over their own feet as they sprinted into the dust.

V swiped the card and popped the rear doors. Inside, the van was stacked—guitars, custom amps, crates of merch, sleek lighting rigs, a whole touring setup wrapped in padded foam and corporate branding. The Us Cracks logo gleamed across everything like a bad tattoo.

Johnny appeared beside her, arms crossed. “So what’s the play, Rockstar? Toss in a Molotov? Piss on their speaker rig?”

Kerry stepped forward, staring at the gear like it had insulted his mother. “They didn’t ask. Didn’t even call. Just took my song, chewed it up, spit out a corpo-friendly remix.”

His lip curled. “Burn it.”

V raised a brow. “All of it?”

Kerry’s eyes didn’t move. “Every fuckin’ cord.”

V pulled a frag from her belt. “Your call.”

She lobbed it into the van with a lazy arc.

BOOM.

The van erupted from the inside, fire blasting out through every seam. Flames curled around the shattered frame, curling paint and melting merch. The Us Cracks logo twisted and blackened, peeling like cheap vinyl in the heat.

Kerry stepped back, laughing—not manic, not cruel, just… satisfied.

“Now that’s a fuckin’ encore.”

Johnny chuckled behind them. “Y’know… if you squint, this almost feels like the old days. Rage, fire, stolen van—just missin’ a bottle of cheap bourbon and a rooftop escape.”

V watched the flames roar, hands on her hips. “Huh. Wonder what their tour manager’s gonna say when their trailer shows up crispy.”

Kerry exhaled, shoulders a little lighter. “Not my problem. Let ‘em know they can’t just use my shit without a price.”

Johnny smirked. “And what a price.”

As the fire crackled behind them, V pulled her shades down over her eyes, already hearing sirens in the far-off wind.

“Alright, boys,” she said, turning on her heel. “Let’s vanish before someone tries to bill us for this party.”

Kerry followed with a grin. “Think this’ll make the news?”

V grinned back. “Only if we’re lucky.”

They hurdled into the Galena, tires screeching as they sped off into the desert, dust and fire in their wake. After shaking off the cops, Kerry directed them to a small café tucked in a quiet corner of Westbrook.

The sign flickered weakly, its letters glowing a soft orange: Capitán Caliente. The scent of fresh coffee and fried dough cut through the usual Night City mix of gasoline, metal, and synthetic air fresheners.

V stepped out of the car, stretching her arms as she looked around. "Didn’t peg you for a hole-in-the-wall kinda guy, Kerry."

He smirked, running a hand through his messy blonde hair. "Yeah, well… back in the day, wasn’t exactly rollin’ in eddies. After every gig, Johnny and I used to come here. Spent what little we had on coffee and talked about how we’d take over the world."

Johnny materialized beside her, leaning against the café's rusted metal railing. He let out a dry chuckle, arms crossed. "‘Course, we never had shit left for sugar or cream, so we choked down the bitterest swill imaginable. But hey, caffeine’s caffeine."

V smirked. "Lotta things change, huh?"

Kerry exhaled sharply. "Yeah. Lotta things."

They stepped inside.

The café was small, cozy, the kind of place that had seen better days but still held onto its soul. Faded posters of long-gone concerts lined the walls, the counter was covered in coffee stains, and a retro radio played some low-fi jazz mix in the background. A couple of old timers sat in the corner, muttering over their drinks. No corpo suits, no gangoons—just people.

The waitress—a middle-aged woman with deep brown skin and sharp eyes—perked up the second she saw Kerry.

"Well, well," she said, resting a hand on her hip. "Look what the cat dragged in. Thought you went all fancy on us, Kerry. Forgot about the little people."

Kerry laughed. "You kiddin’? Best coffee in the city, Carmen. Could never forget."

She scoffed, eyeing him before glancing at V. "And you? You the one keepin’ this troublemaker in check?"

V smirked. "Somethin’ like that."

"Good. Someone’s gotta." She turned back toward the counter, already prepping their drinks. "Your usual, rockstar?"

"Yeah. And one for her, too."

V leaned against the counter, watching the old espresso machine hum and whirr, steam curling into the air. Kerry was oddly quiet now, eyes drifting over the café, like he was somewhere else—some other time.

She nudged him. "Penny for your thoughts?"

He exhaled, rolling his shoulders. "Y’know… last time I felt like this? That rush? That high? It was back on stage. When Samurai was still Samurai. When it was me, Johnny, the guys… when we really had somethin’."

Johnny, standing off to the side, snorted. "Damn right we had somethin’. Anarchy, music, a couple of stolen bottles of tequila. What more could you need?"

V smirked. "And now? How’s it feel?"

Kerry gave her a slow grin, picking up his coffee as Carmen set them down. "Like I could do it all over again."

Johnny’s expression softened—just for a second, before he scoffed and looked away. "Yeah, well. Ain’t dead yet, are ya?"

V lifted her cup. "To rock n’ roll, then."

Kerry chuckled, clinking his against hers. "To rock n’ roll."

The coffee was hot, rich, a little too bitter, but she barely noticed. They sat there for a while, talking about old times, music, and what came next.

Eventually, Kerry leaned back, stretching his arms. "Alright, enough nostalgia. Next time I call, you better pick up."

V smirked. "Wouldn’t miss it for the world."

He gave her a lazy salute before they both heading for the door. V sat in her car outside Capitán Caliente, watching Kerry’s Galena disappear into the city’s neon sprawl. The warmth of the café still lingered—memories, music, a fleeting glimpse of what things used to be. But now, the night stretched on, and she wasn’t ready to head home just yet.

She pulled out her holo and dialed.

After a few rings, a familiar voice, loud and full of life, answered. "Chica! What’s up?"

V grinned. "Feel like a drink?"

"Pffft, does the sun rise in the East? You even gotta ask?"

V chuckled. "El Coyote Cojo, twenty?"

"Make it fifteen. Think I hear a beer callin’ my name already."

V smirked, shaking her head. "See you there."

The warm glow of El Coyote Cojo’s neon sign welcomed her like an old friend. The place was packed tonight—Valentino jackets and leather-clad mercs crowded the bar, laughter rolling over the tables, the scent of grilled meat and cheap cigars thick in the air.

As she stepped inside, Pepe looked up from behind the bar and grinned, already reaching for a bottle.

"Look what the cat dragged in! You still alive, V?"

She smirked. "Last I checked."

Before she could take another step, Jackie appeared, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and pulling her into a one-armed bear hug.

"There’s my choom!" he boomed. "C’mon, let’s get wasted."

V let herself be led to their usual booth, sliding in as Jackie set a shot in front of her.

"To bad decisions and good company."

"The only kind worth makin’," he grinned, and they knocked back the tequila.

The familiar burn hit her throat, warm and grounding. This was home. This was familia.

The place was alive tonight—music loud, laughter rolling over the tables, the scent of sizzling street tacos drifting through the air.

V leaned back, savoring the moment. "So, what’s new? Still busting heads, making Mama Welles proud?"

Jackie chuckled, running a hand through his hair. "Yeah, you could say that. Workin’ some gigs, helpin’ out the Valentinos when they need a solid hand. You? Still runnin’ around Night City like you own the place?"

V chuckled, setting down her glass. "Somethin’ like that. Just helped Kerry blow up a van full of Us Cracks’ gear."

Jackie barked out a laugh. "Wait, wait—hold up. You and Kerry Eurodyne, blowin’ shit up? Fuckin’ legendary."

"Yeah, well, don’t tell the cops."

Then came Tiny Mike.

The man swaggered up to their booth, already half-drunk, slicked-back hair, gold chain, and a cocky grin.

"V, V, V," he drawled, dropping into the seat beside her. "Been too long, hermosa."

V arched a brow. "Not long enough."

Jackie, already nursing his beer, smirked at the interaction, clearly enjoying the show.

Mike leaned in. "C’mon, don’t be like that. One drink, for old times' sake?"

V swirled her shot glass between her fingers. "Already drinking. No need for an excuse."

Mike chuckled, dropping his voice. "Okay, okay. But how ‘bout we pick up where we left off back in the day? Y’know, you and me, one wild night—"

V cut him off with a laugh. "Mike, that ‘wild night’ was me dragging your drunk ass home ‘cause you passed out before we even got to the good part."

Jackie choked on his drink, coughing as he laughed.

Mike put a hand over his heart. "Hey, I’m just sayin’—the offer’s still on the table."

V smirked. "Nah, Mike. We’re better as friends."

He sighed, shaking his head before flashing her a genuine smile. "Yeah… guess you’re right."

Jackie clapped a heavy hand on V’s shoulder. "Damn, chica, you got guys fallin’ over themselves for ya."

V just shrugged. "Can’t help it if I’m irresistible."

The bass thumped through the floorboards of El Coyote Cojo, mixing with the sound of laughter, drunken singing, and the occasional slam of a shot glass hitting the bar. The place was alive, a small sanctuary in the heart of Heywood, where mercs, Valentinos, and old friends could drink and forget the weight of the city pressing down on them.

V and Jackie moved with the crowd, the tequila in their veins making everything looser, easier. The music shifted to something lively, the kind that made people jump up and move before they even realized it. Jackie, big as he was, had deceptively smooth footwork, guiding V through the packed dance floor, his grin wide and infectious.

"Still got it, chica!" He called over the music, spinning her once before letting go.

V laughed, rolling her shoulders. "Never lost it!"

Johnny appeared beside her, arms crossed, watching the chaos with his usual smirk.

"Gotta say, you clean up nice, but you dance even better."

V raised an eyebrow. "You complimenting me, Silverhand?"

"Hah. Don’t get used to it."

Jackie grabbed another drink from a passing waiter and shoved it into V’s hand. "One more, for the road."

V clinked her glass against his, downing the fiery liquid without hesitation. The warmth spread through her, mixing with the high of the night.

Pepe swung by their table again, still buzzing with gossip.

"You two hear ‘bout that fixer over in Pacifica? Got his whole gig wiped out by Maelstrom. Heard he didn’t even see it comin’."

Jackie shook his head. "Man, Pacifica’s always been a shitshow. You’d have to be crazy to try runnin’ biz there."

V leaned back, her fingers idly tracing the rim of her glass. "Or desperate."

The mood at the table shifted slightly, the weight of reality creeping back in. In a city like this, you either played smart, played dirty, or got wiped off the board.

Johnny, watching from across the table, sighed. "And here I thought tonight was just about gettin' shitfaced."

V exhaled, pushing the thought away. "It is." She turned to Jackie. "One last dance?"

Jackie grinned. "Choom, I thought you'd never ask."

And just like that, the world outside melted away again.

Chapter Text

By the time V finally stumbled out of El Coyote Cojo, the night had stretched into early morning. The streets were quieter, but never silent. A few stragglers hung around outside the bar, a couple Valentinos leaned against their bikes, talking in low, lazy voices.

Jackie was nowhere to be seen—probably off to grab a bite or pass out in the back booth.

V pulled her jacket closer, the cold air biting at her skin.

The faint buzzing of her holo pulled V from the haze of the night. She squinted at the screen, trying to focus through the tequila fog clouding her brain.

Missed Calls: River W. (3)
Messages:

[River W.]

Hey, you out late?

[River W.]

You okay?

[River W.]

V, why aren’t you coming home?"

She winced, guilt seeping in through the alcohol. It wasn’t like she meant to ignore him—just got caught up in the night, in the buzz, in the city.

V stumbled away from the curb, hands in her pockets, feeling the weight of the night settling into her bones. There was no way in hell she was driving—not in this state. The apartment wasn’t far, and the cold air might actually do her some good.

"You’re a mess," Johnny muttered beside her, arms crossed.

"Yeah, yeah," she grumbled, rubbing her temples. "Not like I haven’t been worse."

"Sure, but that was when you didn’t have a guy blowing up your phone worried sick about you."

V rolled her eyes but sighed, typing out a reply to River.

She didn’t expect an immediate response—he was probably still asleep.

She walked the familiar path back to her apartment, the holo billboards flickering overhead, advertising everything from custom cyberware to black-market braindances. A few street kids ran past her, laughing, their pockets undoubtedly full of something stolen. It was Night City in its purest form—always moving, always alive, always on the edge of chaos. The walk home felt longer than usual, every step dragging her toward the inevitable hangover she was about to suffer.

By the time she reached her apartment building, her stomach was turning, twisting in rebellion.

She barely made it inside before the nausea hit her like a freight train.

The moment the apartment door slid open, V stumbled inside, kicking off her boots in some half-assed attempt at getting comfortable. The apartment was quiet—too quiet, the kind of silence that made her wince.

She was so not ready for the morning lecture she knew was coming.

Her stomach twisted, rolling with the poor life choices she had made at El Coyote. Before she could even think about it, she bolted up the stairs, practically tripping over herself as she rushed to the bathroom.

The second she hit the cold tile floor, she was heaving into the toilet, hands gripping the porcelain like it was the only thing keeping her tethered to the world.

The noise must’ve woken River, because before she could even catch her breath, heavy footsteps coming toward her.

"V?"

His voice was rough with sleep, but she could still hear the concern beneath it.

V, forehead pressed against the cool toilet seat, groaned. "Ohhh, shit—look who’s up. ‘Bout time, old man."

River rubbed a hand over his face, sighing. "You serious right now?"

V slowly lifted her head, blinking at him through the drunken haze. "What? I feel great."

She immediately doubled over again.

River crouched beside her, one strong hand resting on her back as she heaved once more.

"How much did you drink?"

V lifted a lazy finger, pointing at him. "You sound like my dad."

River just arched an eyebrow, waiting.

She sighed dramatically, flopping back onto the floor. "Dunno. All of it?"

River exhaled through his nose, shaking his head. "You’re a mess."

V grinned, eyes half-lidded and mischievous. "Nah. You’re just old."

River gave her an unimpressed look. "Oh yeah?"

She tapped her fingers against the floor, pretending to count. "Lemme see… you’re, what, forty? I’m twenty-three."

She paused, staring up at the ceiling like she was deep in thought.

River crossed his arms, waiting.

V snapped her fingers. "Seventeen years. Damn."

Her eyes widened slightly, as if she’d just made the realization. Then, she smirked. "You were already legal drinkin’ age when I was born."

River groaned, shaking his head. "Really? We’re doing this right now?"

V giggled, rolling onto her side. "Yup. You’re a fossil.

River stared at her, caught between the urge to laugh and the temptation to groan in frustration.

V, completely shameless, was still grinning up at him, her cheeks flushed from alcohol, eyes half-lidded with amusement.

"A yummy fossil," she corrected, pointing at him like she’d just made some groundbreaking discovery.

River's brow twitched. Did she really just—?

His mouth opened, then closed. He wasn't even sure how to respond to that.

V nodded to herself, apparently pleased with her conclusion.

"River Ward, Night City PD’s finest—reduced to a pervert dating a younger girl."

River let out a long, suffering sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. He still didn’t know if he should be offended or laugh his ass off.

On one hand, she was so wasted she’d probably forget half of this by morning.

On the other hand… “pervert”? Really?

River let out a long, suffering sigh. "You’re killin’ me, V."

She just cackled, kicking her feet like a kid thrilled with herself. "C’mon, admit it—you like ‘em young, huh?"

River rubbed a hand down his face, groaning. "That’s it."

Before she could react, he grabbed her.

"Wha—River, hey!"

She flailed, but she was too drunk to fight back properly.

"Put me down, you prehistoric bastard!"

River hauled her up, effortlessly scooping her into his arms.

She gasped, clutching at his shirt like she thought he might drop her. "Wait, wait—! I was kidding!"

River ignored her, carrying her out of the bathroom.

"You’re done here."

V, realizing she wasn’t winning this fight, huffed. "You’re lucky I like you."

River glanced down at her. "Oh yeah?"

She blinked up at him, all drunken warmth and sleepy affection.

"Yup."

River just shook his head, laying her down on the bed before pulling the covers over her. He sighed, running a hand down his face, eyes fixed on the absolute menace sprawled out on their bed. V lay there smug as hell, her arms stretched lazily above her head, a devilish little smirk still plastered on her lips. One of her legs dangled off the mattress, her boot half-untied, as if she’d lost interest halfway through taking it off.

She was a wreck, but damn if she didn’t look pleased with herself.

V peeked up at him, voice suddenly softer. "You didn’t answer my question."

River sighed, sitting on the edge of the bed. "Which one?"

"Do you love me?"

River stared at her for a long moment, then leaned down, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to her forehead.

"Alright, come on, troublemaker," he muttered, reaching out to adjust her properly on the bed.

The second his hands were on her, V latched onto him, her fingers fisting his hoodie and pulling him down with a strength that shouldn’t have belonged to someone so sloppy drunk.

"Nope. Not done talking," she declared, her breath warm and whiskey-sweet against his face.

River grunted, bracing himself so he didn’t crash onto her completely. "I think you are."

V snorted, poking his chest with one finger. "Don’t think, Ward. You’re a fossil. Old men shouldn’t overwork their brains."

River narrowed his eyes. "Uh-huh."

She tilted her head, pretending to look thoughtful, even as she swayed slightly, like her brain was struggling to keep up with her mouth.

"Wait… does that mean I got a thing for old guys?" she asked, her brows furrowing like this was an actual crisis.

River exhaled through his nose, his patience hanging on by a thread. "V—"

"Shit," she muttered, half to herself. "I mean, not all old guys. Just you. Guess I got a thing for you, old man."

River stared at her.

V stared back.

Then, her lips curled into a grin.

"Damn. You're a lucky bastard."

River rolled his eyes, biting back a smile despite himself. "Yeah? And why’s that?"

"‘Cause I’m hot."

River huffed a laugh, shaking his head. "Jesus, V."

V giggled, looking way too pleased with herself, then propped herself up on her elbows—or at least, tried to, but lost balance and flopped right back down.

River caught her before she could smack her head against the mattress, one arm braced on either side of her.

That was a mistake.

She was so close now—her messy hair spilling across the pillows, her cheeks flushed, her tank top hanging loose enough that he caught a hint of the black lace lingerie she’d definitely worn for him.

River swallowed hard, his pulse picking up.

V blinked up at him slowly, then grinned. "You checking me out, Ward?"

River sighed, deep and controlled, his jaw tightening. "You're drunk."

"So?" She looped her arms around his neck, tugging him just a little closer. "You like it when I'm a little messy, don’t you?"

River closed his eyes for a second, silently counting to ten.

She was so fucking smug right now.

"You’re gonna be a pain in the ass tomorrow," he muttered.

V snickered, but then her expression softened.

"Hey, River."

"Hmm?"

She blinked at him slowly, her grip on him loosening slightly, like she was suddenly lost in thought. "You love me?"

His throat tightened.

"You asked me that already."

"I know," she mumbled, her voice smaller this time. "Wanna hear it again."

River let out a slow breath, his eyes searching hers.

She was drunk as hell, probably wouldn’t remember much of this tomorrow… but shit, that look on her face—so unguarded, so soft, like she needed to hear it, like it meant something, even in this messy, tequila-fueled haze.

He leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead.

"Yeah, V. I love you."

She let out a content hum, her fingers loosening completely in his hoodie, and within seconds, she was out like a light.

River just shook his head, exhaling through his nose.

She was gonna be hell in the morning. And he was right. V woke up to the worst headache of her life.

It was like a pack of cybernetic mules had been tap-dancing on her skull all night, each movement sending fresh waves of pain radiating behind her eyes. Her mouth felt like sandpaper, her limbs heavy, her stomach doing slow, uneasy flips.

She groaned, shifting under the blankets, only to feel an arm tighten around her waist.

River.

His warm breath tickled her neck, and she could feel the slow, steady rise and fall of his chest against her back. Even half-conscious, he was holding onto her like he was afraid she’d disappear.

V blinked sluggishly, her memories from last night coming back in pieces—El Coyote, the drinks, way too many shots, Jackie laughing at her expense, Tiny Mike trying and failing to flirt, and then… oh.

Her face burned.

Shit.

She groaned again, trying to hide her face in the pillow. How much of last night’s rambling bullshit had River actually heard?

Judging by the way he was holding her, probably all of it.

She sighed, stretching carefully—which turned out to be a mistake because the movement sent a fresh spike of nausea through her gut.

"Fuck me," she mumbled.

A low chuckle rumbled behind her. "Maybe when you're less hungover."

V froze.

River was awake—his voice still rough with sleep, but laced with so much amusement that she could already picture his smug-ass face.

Slowly, she turned over to face him, glaring weakly. "You think you're funny, old man?"

He grinned, clearly enjoying himself. "Yup."

"I hate you."

"Mmm." He pressed a kiss to her temple, his voice way too damn soft. "Still love you, though."

V groaned louder, covering her face with both hands. "You are so annoying."

River just laughed, his fingers tracing slow, lazy circles against her hip. "Want some coffee?"

"Want a new liver."

"I'll see if Vik's got one lying around."

She huffed, cracking an eye open. "Seriously, how are you so upbeat in the morning? I had half the bar in my stomach last night—"

River raised a brow, smirking. "I wasn't the one doing rounds of tequila with Jackie like I was in some kind of death match."

V narrowed her eyes at him, rubbing her temple. "You weren't even there."

"I wasn't about to tell my grown-ass girlfriend what to do."

"Your grown-ass girlfriend was wasted off her ass."

V groaned, grabbing a pillow and shoving it over her face. "Kill me."

"Nah." River pulled the pillow away, grinning down at her. "I like you too much."

She squinted at him. "You sure? 'Cause I'm feeling pretty killable right now."

River chuckled, brushing a strand of hair away from her face. "Yeah, I’m sure. Besides, I wanna hear more of your drunk ramblings."

V froze, suddenly very aware of what she’d been saying last night.

"Oh. Oh shit—"

River grinned, but before he could tease her, she clamped a hand over his mouth.

"Nope. We are not talking about this."

River leaned in, voice low and teasing. "You also asked me, like, five times if I love you. Just over and over. ‘Do you love me? River, do you love me?’"

V peeked at him from under her arm, cheeks burning. "And what did you say?"

River's smirk softened slightly, his fingers brushing over her wrist before lacing with hers. "Told you I do. Every time."

That shut her up for a second.

Then she pushed him onto his back and climbed on top of him, straddling his waist. "Well, then. If you love me so much…"

River arched a brow, hands settling on her hips. "Yeah?"

She leaned down, lips just barely ghosting over his. "Then you’ll forget everything I said last night."

River laughed, flipping them over so fast V yelped. "Not a chance, baby girl. This is blackmail material for life." His eyes twinkled with mischief, but he just kissed her palm and chuckled. "Alright, alright. Coffee first. Public humiliation later."

V sighed dramatically, flopping back down onto the mattress. "I really do hate you."

River just shook his head, pressing another kiss to her forehead before climbing out of bed. "Yeah, yeah. I’ll go make your coffee, fossil’s honor."

As he disappeared downstairs, V let out a long breath, staring up at the ceiling.

She was never drinking that much again.

V groaned as she shifted in bed, her head pounding like a bass drop at a Maelstrom rave. The world around her tilted, making her stomach churn uncomfortably. She felt like she’d been run over by a speeding AV, then backed over for good measure.

From the kitchen, she could hear the faint sounds of River moving around, the clatter of pots and pans mixing with the low hum of the radio. The smell of food drifted into the room—eggs, toast, something greasy—exactly what she needed and exactly what her stomach was ready to violently reject.

V groaned and rolled onto her stomach, burying her face into the pillow. It was a mistake. The sudden movement made her stomach flip, and a wave of nausea hit her so hard she nearly gagged right then and there. She reached for her holo with one barely functioning hand, blinking at the blinding screen. Squinting through her hangover haze, she managed to fire off a message.

[V]

u alive?

A few moments later, a string of gibberish came through.

[Jackie W.]

mjle mfn mm aLIVEEE*

V huffed out a weak laugh, but even that tiny motion made her queasy.

"Jesus…" she muttered, dropping the holo onto the mattress.

"That for me or Jackie?"

V turned her head, moving as little as possible, to see River standing by the end of the stair, one arm crossed, a smirk entirely too pleased with itself stretched across his face.

She groaned. "You. For existing. And for being way too functional this early."

River chuckled, stepping toward the bed with a tray in hand. "It’s noon, V."

"Exactly. Too early."

She barely managed to push herself up into a sitting position, head swaying from the effort. River placed the tray on the nightstand and sat beside her, the mattress dipping under his weight.

The scent of food hit her full force.

V’s entire body seized up as nausea punched her right in the gut. Her stomach lurched, sweat pricked at her skin, and she immediately regretted everything—every single decision that led to her drinking that much last night.

River, completely unaware of the battle waging inside her, held up a fork with toast and egg already speared. "C’mon, eat something."

V clenched her jaw, nostrils flaring. "If I do, I will literally die."

"You’ll die if you don’t eat."

"That’s the plan."

Shaking his head, River nudged the fork against her lips. "Open up, baby fossil."

V snapped her head toward him, glaring. "Oh, so now I’m the fossil?"

River grinned. "Mhm. The way you were slurring last night, you aged at least twenty years. I’d say we’re about even now."

V smacked his arm weakly, but he barely flinched. "Keep talking, old man, and I’ll make sure to remind you just how ‘ancient’ you are when I’m feeling better."

River smirked, voice dropping just a little. "Looking forward to it."

V rolled her eyes but finally took a small bite of food. The moment it hit her tongue, she hummed despite herself.

"Okay, fine. This is good."

"Told you."

River leaned in, kissing her temple, then pressed another bite of food to her lips.

"Now, be a good girl and eat before I have to carry your ass to the clinic."

V grumbled but relented. She took another bite. Then another.

Then—her stomach revolted.

A cold sweat broke out over her skin, bile rising so fast it felt like her insides were flipping over themselves.

"Shit—" V gasped, slapping River’s hand away as she threw the blanket off herself and practically fell out of bed.

River sat up straight, alarmed. "V?"

But she was already stumbling out of the room, one hand gripping her stomach as she ran for the bathroom, legs barely cooperating. Her vision blurred, her head pounded, and the overwhelming wave of nausea nearly took her to her knees before she crashed through the bathroom door.

River followed close behind, just in time to hear the wet, miserable sound of her retching violently into the toilet.

V clung to the rim, body trembling as her stomach emptied itself with brutal force. She coughed, gasped for air, then heaved again. Her fingers dug into the cold ceramic, knuckles going white. She squeezed her eyes shut, willing the room to stop spinning around her.

"Fuck," she groaned, voice hoarse and raw. Her throat burned. Her stomach felt like it was trying to cave in on itself.

River sighed, stepping inside. He crouched next to her, one big hand finding the curve of her back, rubbing slow, soothing circles.

"You know," he mused, voice far too amused, "for someone who acts all tough, you really are terrible at handling your drinks."

V weakly lifted a hand and flipped him off.

"Shut up and hold my hair," she mumbled.

River chuckled, but did exactly that.

His fingers threaded through her damp hair, lifting it away from her face as she braced herself against another round. He held it securely, his other hand never stopping its slow motion against her back.

"Not how I pictured our morning going," he murmured, amusement laced in his voice.

V gasped for breath, forehead pressing against the rim of the toilet. "Oh? And how exactly did you picture it, old man?"

River huffed a quiet laugh. "For starters, didn’t think I’d be holding your hair while you try to cough up a lung."

V groaned. "Don’t remind me."

She sat back on her heels, letting her head fall against River’s shoulder, eyes shut. She was drained, completely spent, body aching from the sheer force of her stomach rebelling against her.

"Feel better?" River asked, voice softer now.

V hummed. "I think my stomach’s finally given up the fight."

River smirked, pressing a kiss against the side of her head. "Good. I was starting to think I’d have to take you to the clinic."

V groaned again. "Don’t even joke."

She sat there for a moment longer before finally forcing herself to move, gripping the counter for support as she pulled herself up.

River followed, keeping a steadying hand on her waist. "C’mon, let’s get you some water. Maybe a shower."

V blinked up at him, tired but teasing. "You offering to join?"

River snorted. "Not unless you want me carrying your passed-out ass out of there when you inevitably collapse."

"Mm. Kinda romantic."

"Yeah, real romantic."

V laughed—well, more like wheezed—before letting him guide her out of the bathroom.

The day was officially a lost cause.

***

V stayed curled up on the couch, looking half-dead, her face buried in a pillow while River stood in the kitchen, stirring the pot of soup. Her stomach was a traitorous bitch today—either demanding food or immediately rejecting it. There was no in-between, no compromise. The TV was on, but she wasn’t watching—just letting the neon glow flicker across the darkened apartment while she nursed her misery like a wounded animal.

River had called Vik earlier, asking for any tried-and-true home remedies. The ripperdoc had given a gruff laugh, told him to force fluids, keep food simple, and—if all else failed—pray.

Not exactly promising.

"How’s the soup coming?" V croaked from the couch, her voice still hoarse from all the puking her guts out earlier.

"Almost done," River called back. "You sure you’ll be able to keep it down?"

"No, but I wanna try."

That was the most determination she’d had all day, so River took it as a win.

Still, soup alone wouldn’t cut it. He knew V had specific cravings when she was sick or hungover.

So, while the broth simmered, he grabbed his jacket and keys and glanced at her. "I’ll be back in a few. Try not to die before I get home."

V managed to lift her head just enough to smirk. "Where you going, Officer Ward? Off to fight crime while I rot?"

River snorted. "Something like that."

"Better come back with something good."

"Yeah, yeah."

River walked down the street, the cool morning air biting against his skin, the streets of Night City already buzzing with life.

His destination? The market nearby.

His shopping list?

Kimchi and ice cream.

Something about the spice from the kimchi shocking her back to life, while the ice cream cooled her boiling insides.

He grabbed a jar of the strongest-smelling kimchi he could find, along with two tubs of ice cream—one of V’s favorites, strawberry mochi, and something for himself, plain vanilla, because he was a simple man.

As he paid and left, he shook his head to himself. This woman had him wrapped around her goddamn finger.

When he got back to the apartment, V was exactly where he left her—half-dead on the couch, still groaning at whatever garbage was playing on the TV.

River held up the kimchi jar, shaking it lightly so she could hear the sloshing of fermented vegetables.

"Got your nasty-ass snack."

V perked up immediately, eyes brightening. "Oh, you beautiful, perfect man."

River arched an eyebrow. "Funny. Pretty sure you called me a fossil last night."

V smirked. "A yummy fossil."

"Right. Should’ve let you die instead."

He set the groceries down, grabbed the soup, and poured her a bowl, then set everything up on the coffee table in front of the couch.

V slowly sat up, wincing as her stomach threatened to revolt.

River handed her the spoon. "Alright, you asked for this misery—eat."

She took a cautious sip of the broth first, then a small bite of tofu. It took a second, but she sighed and nodded.

"Okay… this is good. You might actually be useful after all, old man."

River rolled his eyes. "Keep calling me that, and I swear, I’ll make sure you never see another jar of kimchi in your life."

V gasped dramatically. "You wouldn’t."

"Watch me."

She stuck out her tongue but continued eating, piling disgusting amounts of kimchi onto her spoon like it was some kind of delicacy.

River grimaced.

"You know that shit is literally rotten cabbage, right?"

V smirked, taking a big bite, moaning obnoxiously as she chewed.

"Mm. Delicious."

River leaned back, eyeing her like she was actively committing a crime.

"You’re sick in the head."

V grinned, chewing another piece of kimchi with exaggerated delight, eyes gleaming with mischief.

"You know," she said, licking a bit of red spice from her thumb, "guess I just got a thing for old, fermented stuff."

River narrowed his eyes. "Oh yeah?"

She smirked, popping another piece in her mouth. "Mhm. Guess I always had a knack for appreciating something aged, well-seasoned... got that deep, complex flavor."

River exhaled sharply, shaking his head. "You're really comparing me to rotten cabbage?"

V snickered. "Not just any cabbage. Premium, high-quality, gourmet-level aged perfection."

River groaned, rubbing his temples. "Jesus, V."

She grinned wider, pointing her chopsticks at him. "Admit it—you love that I keep you on your toes, old man."

River leaned in slightly, voice dropping just enough to send a small shiver up her spine. "Oh, I do. But keep calling me old, and we'll see who wears out first next time, lightweight."

V paused mid-bite, cheeks warming, before quickly stuffing more kimchi in her mouth.

"Mm. Rotten cabbage. Delicious."

River just smirked, shaking his head. "Brat."

"Come on, try some."

"Not in a million years."

V laughed, scooting closer to him and holding up a piece of kimchi with her chopsticks. "Just a little bite. For me."

River leaned back like she was holding out a live grenade. "Not happening, V."

"You're supposed to suffer with me, babe. That’s love."

"Love has limits."

V rolled her eyes but kept eating, satisfied with her victory.

About halfway through her meal, V groaned and flopped back against the couch, holding her stomach.

"Ugh. I swear I’m never drinking again."

River smirked. "You promise?"

"Dead serious."

River crossed his arms. "Uh-huh. I give you two weeks before Jackie ropes you into another round at El Coyote."

V groaned louder. "Don’t put that evil on me. Let me live in denial for a little while longer."

River chuckled, reaching out to brush a strand of hair from her face.

"Alright, alright. No more drinking. For now."

V sighed, closing her eyes as she leaned into his touch. "For now…"

And that’s when her stomach betrayed her.

She froze. Her face paled.

"...Shit."

River narrowed his eyes. "V?"

And then she bolted.

River followed her just in time to see her barely make it to the toilet before violently throwing up everything she just ate.

"Goddamn it, V…" River sighed, rubbing his temple as he stepped into the bathroom.

V was on her knees, gripping the toilet bowl like it was the only thing keeping her tethered to reality.

She groaned, head resting against her arm. "M’never eating again…"

River sighed, crouching down beside her, rubbing her back in slow, soothing circles.

"Told you that kimchi was a bad idea," he muttered.

V weakly lifted a hand and smacked his arm.

"Don't rub it in. Let me suffer in peace."

River chuckled, shaking his head. "You’re an idiot."

"Yeah? Well, you’re dating me, so what does that make you?"

River smirked, leaning in slightly. "A saint."

V snorted, then groaned. "Don't make me laugh. I think I might actually die."

River sighed, pulling her hair back, pressing a light kiss to the top of her head.

"Come on, lightweight. Let’s get you back to the couch."

And despite her very weak protests, he scooped her up effortlessly and carried her back to the couch.

V groaned, curling up again. "Still feel like shit…"

River grabbed the tub of ice cream and popped it open. "Here. Maybe this’ll help."

V peeked up at him through her misery. "...You really do love me, huh?"

River chuckled, handing her the spoon. "Yeah, yeah. Now shut up and eat before I change my mind."

***

The dim, ambient glow of the TV cast flickering shadows across the apartment. The film’s dramatic orchestral score swelled, filling the space with an intensity that, to River, felt comically excessive. The lead actress stood in the pouring rain, clutching a letter to her chest, her sobs echoing through the speakers.

River exhaled deeply, flipping through the case file on his lap, only half-paying attention. His other hand rested on V’s bare thigh, his fingers lazily tracing circles on her skin. Her legs were comfortably draped across his lap, her posture completely at ease. She was absorbed in the movie, eyes fixed on the screen, lips slightly parted in concentration.

River glanced at her, then back at the TV, then back at her.

"V, you actually like this crap?"

"Shhh," she hushed him without looking away. "It’s the best part."

River groaned, shaking his head. "Unbelievable."

He leaned back into the couch, rubbing his thumb along the side of her knee absentmindedly as he reached for his holo. If he was gonna suffer through this ridiculous love story, he might as well check in with his actual loved ones.

Joss’s name popped up on the screen, and he quickly typed out a message:

[River W.]

Hey. How’s everyone doing? Might swing by this weekend. Need anything?

As he waited for a reply, he absently skimmed through the case file in his other hand. He wasn’t exactly making much progress—too distracted by the godawful movie and the warmth of V’s body curled up against him—but he still liked having it nearby. A small reminder that there was work to be done.

His holo buzzed a few moments later.

[Joss K.]

Hey! We’re all good. Kids are driving me crazy, but what’s new? Would be great to see you. Think we’re running low on a few things—milk, eggs, and… oh, the kids wanted more of that stupid cereal. You know the one.

River smirked, shaking his head. He could already hear the kids begging for it in his mind.

[River W.]

Got it. I’ll grab ‘em before I come by.

He locked his holo and stretched, rolling his neck. He needed to move, do something, anything to break up the boredom creeping in.

The movie wasn’t helping.

The woman on screen had now transitioned from crying in the rain to dramatically chasing after a departing train, shouting the name of her lost love like she was performing an opera.

River’s patience snapped.

He turned his head to V, raising an eyebrow. "V, this is… this is torture."

V barely acknowledged him. "Shhh," she muttered again, reaching for a handful of snacks from the bowl on the coffee table.

River sighed, grumbling under his breath as he rubbed his hand over his face.

"This is worse than a stakeout."

V grinned, still staring at the screen. "You just don’t appreciate art."

"Art?" River let out a disbelieving laugh. "Art is something that takes skill, depth—not whatever the hell this is."

V finally turned to look at him, her eyes glinting with amusement. "Oh, c’mon, big guy. You mean to tell me you’ve never enjoyed a good romance movie?"

"Not like this. This is painful."

V smirked. "You’re just mad ‘cause you’re not the leading man."

River scoffed. "Oh please. The ‘leading man’ in this garbage? He’s about as deep as a puddle. Probably spends more time looking in the mirror than actually talking to her."

V laughed, the sound light and unapologetically entertained. "Well, lucky me, I landed a guy with a little more depth, huh?"

River smirked, but before he could respond, the movie’s climax hit full force—the lead couple finally reuniting, a slow-motion embrace, a kiss under the now magically appearing sunset.

V, on the other hand, sighed dreamily, sinking deeper into the couch.

"You seriously like this?" he asked again, still in disbelief.

V nodded without hesitation. "Yup."

River just stared at her, then turned his attention back to the screen.

"I’m never gonna understand you," he muttered.

V grinned. "That’s half the fun."

His fingers absentmindedly traced circles on her thigh, a comforting rhythm, while V, fully engrossed in the movie, popped another chip into her mouth.

Then, in the most casual tone—like she wasn’t about to flip his entire world upside down—she asked,

"Hey, River."

"Hmm?" His eyes stayed on his holo, flipping through a report he wasn’t absorbing.

"How many kids would you want?"

River froze.

His fingers stopped moving. His eyes snapped to her.

"What?"

V was still watching the screen like she hadn’t just sent his brain into free fall.

"How many kids would you want? Y'know, if—" she gestured vaguely, "—things were different."

River just stared.

His mind short-circuited.

"Uh…" He blinked, looking down at her like she’d just thrown him into deep water without warning, trying to process. Was she serious? He had not been prepared for that. Not while sitting here, watching some over-the-top sob story, legs tangled together like it was just another night.

V didn’t even turn from the screen. "Kids," she repeated casually, like they were talking about the weather. "Ever think about it?"

River genuinely didn’t know how to answer that.

It wasn’t like the thought had never crossed his mind. He’d helped raise his nieces, knew exactly what went into being a father—the weight, the love, the responsibility. But hearing it come from her, so casually, so effortlessly, like it wasn’t something that should make his chest tighten and his pulse stumble—

That was new.

"I—" he rubbed the back of his neck. "Hell, V, you really know how to put a guy on the spot."

She finally turned her head to look at him, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "What? Can’t answer a simple question?"

River exhaled a slow breath, leaning back against the couch. "Never really let myself think about it."

V studied him for a second before nodding. "Okay, but if you had to pick—how many?"

River chuckled, shaking his head. "Shit, I don’t know. One? Two? More than that, and I’d be outnumbered."

V smirked, popping another chip into her mouth. "You’re built like a tank, River. I think you could handle a couple of toddlers."

"Yeah, 'cause that’s what I need. A mini version of you running around causing trouble," he shot back, smirking.

V laughed. "Damn right."

The warmth of it settled deep in his chest.

"And names?" she asked next, eyes playful, but her voice a little softer.

A name?

River swallowed. That was… a lot more intimate.

"If I had a son…" he hesitated, then shrugged. "Maybe something solid. Leo, maybe. Or Elias."

V nodded approvingly. "Leo Ward. Elias Ward. Sounds strong."

River exhaled, his grip on her leg unconsciously tightening. Jesus. Why did hearing her say that sound so… real?

"And for a daughter?" she prompted.

River barely registered what he was saying before the words slipped out. "Celeste. Or Isla. Something beautiful. Something that lasts."

V smiled. A real, soft smile. "Celeste Ward. Isla Ward. Yeah, those are pretty."

River let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.

She had no idea what she was doing to him right now.

He could feel his heartbeat in his throat, his head spinning at the thought of a little girl with V’s eyes and his stubbornness. A son with her fire and his sense of loyalty.

And what hit him the hardest?

The fact that he actually wanted it.

With her.

"How about you?" he asked, voice a little rougher than he meant it to be. "Ever thought about it?"

V stretched slightly, fingers idly tracing patterns on her stomach. "You know, when I was a kid, I used to dream about this kind of thing."

River raised an eyebrow. "Yeah?"

"Yeah." She grinned, almost wistful. "Always thought some prince would sweep me off my feet one day, y’know? Silly childhood fantasies."

River chuckled. "Didn’t take you for the princess type."

She shrugged. "My mom used to tell me stories, make it sound like love could fix anything. I believed her, for a long time." Her smile softened, but there was no sadness in it. Just memory. "Still, guess I never imagined my ‘prince’ would be some big, broody ex-cop with a thing for old-school values."

River smirked, shaking his head. "Big, broody, and old, you mean."

V laughed, swatting his arm. "You're not old, just… seasoned."

River groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Jesus, V."

"What?" she grinned. "I like old things. Guess you’re lucky I have a taste for history."

River shot her a look, but his chest felt tight in a way he couldn’t explain.

He wasn’t the kind of guy who let himself hope.

Not in this city.

Not with this life.

But fuck, when she said things like that, when she looked at him like that—like he was something solid she could lean on—

He couldn’t help but wonder.

Maybe… just maybe… a future with her wasn’t such a crazy thought after all.

V stretched her arms lazily, eyes still fixed on the screen, but River could tell she wasn’t really watching anymore. Her fingers tapped absently against her stomach, her lips pursed in thought.

Then, almost offhandedly, she mused, “You think I’d make a good mom?”

River’s head snapped toward her so fast it was a wonder he didn’t get whiplash.

Did she just—?

V finally turned to face him, amusement flickering in her gaze at his stunned silence.

He opened his mouth, then closed it. Tread carefully, Ward.

“I—yeah, of course,” he said, voice coming out a little rougher than he intended. “Why wouldn’t you?”

V smirked. “I dunno. Don’t exactly scream ‘motherly instincts,’ do I?”

River huffed a laugh, squeezing her calf where his hand still rested. “Yeah? And what does ‘motherly’ look like to you?”

She rolled onto her side, resting her head on her hand. “Oh, you know. Apron, warm cookies, bedtime stories.”

River gave her a look. “V. You can cook, but I’ve seen you nearly burn water.”

She snorted. “Okay, fair. Maybe I wouldn’t be that kinda mom.”

She drummed her fingers against his knee, a small, almost shy smile tugging at her lips.

“But, like… I could be the cool mom, right?”

River raised a brow, intrigued. “Cool mom?”

“Yeah.” She grinned, eyes glinting with mischief. “Teaching the kid how to throw knives, maybe how to break into a car—y’know, important life skills.”

River choked on his laugh. “Jesus, V.”

“What? It’s practical!” she defended, smirking.

River pinched the bridge of his nose, shaking his head, but he was grinning too hard to be mad. “Our kids would be a menace to society. No way in hell am I letting our kids near sharp weapons."

V scoffed. "Pfft. Like you could stop me." V smirked, leaning back against the couch. "A whole gang of mini-V’s running around, causing havoc. Night City wouldn’t stand a chance."

River sighed dramatically, running a hand through his hair. "I can already tell—I’d be the one pulling ‘em out of fights, while you’d be cheering ‘em on."

"Exactly," V grinned.

River groaned, rubbing his temples. "I’m already exhausted just thinking about our kids like that. "

V smirked. “Our kids, huh?”

River’s breath hitched.

He tried to recover but she caught it. The way his whole body went still for half a second, the way his fingers twitched on her skin.

She was fishing, and damn it, he walked right into the hook.

“Uh—” River cleared his throat, rubbing the back of his neck. “I meant hypothetically.”

V grinned.

“Relax, old man. I’m not asking you to put a baby in me right this second,” she teased, stretching like a lazy cat.

River groaned, half in exasperation, half because—fuck, his brain did not need to go there right now.

V saw it.

V knew.

Her grin turned wicked.

She shifted closer, her fingers ghosting up his arm, her voice dropping into something almost purring. “But, you’d like that, huh?”

River tensed.

She was not playing fair.

“V—”

She laughed, throwing her arms behind her head, the picture of smug satisfaction.

River exhaled a slow, deep breath, willing himself to get a damn grip.

He had no business thinking about things like that. About her like that. Standing up, he stretched, rolling his shoulders before making his way to the kitchen. "Gonna make dinner," he announced over his shoulder.

He could hear the lazy amusement in V’s voice. "Mmm, surprise me."

A small grin tugged at his lips. He’d been doing nothing but surprising himself lately.

River moved toward the kitchen, his mind still tangled in the conversation from earlier. It was rare for him to let himself daydream—he was too much of a realist, too aware of how quickly good things could be taken away. But damn if V didn’t make it tempting.

He started pulling ingredients from the fridge, moving on autopilot as the smell of sizzling onions and garlic filled the apartment. He had no idea what he was even making at this point—just something warm, something that might actually stay down after V had spent the entire day trying to win the battle against her stomach.

The knife moved smoothly under his hands, chopping vegetables with practiced ease. Cooking was something he liked—calming, straightforward. Unlike everything else in his life.

A soft rustling from the couch made him glance over. V had finally pulled herself off the cushions, stretching like a cat before making her way toward her desk. Nibbles trailed after her, weaving between her legs with a loud, demanding purr.

River smiled to himself, shaking his head. That damn cat had it easy.

He returned his focus to dinner, stirring the simmering broth. The gentle bubbling, the scent of spices filling the air—it was grounding. Yet, in the back of his mind, that damn picture wouldn’t leave him alone.

Would they have V’s wild streak or his stubbornness? Maybe a mix of both? Would a daughter end up running circles around him while a son tried to out-stubborn him at every turn?

The thought was ridiculous. Unrealistic. He knew it.

And yet, he couldn’t stop grinning like an idiot.

Jesus.

He exhaled sharply through his nose, stirring a little too aggressively. What the hell was he doing?

Meanwhile, across the room, V was lost in her own world, scrolling through emails. Most of them were junk, just fixer requests or random spam, until—

She frowned. A subjectless email, no sender.

No sender. No subject.
“Tomorrow. No-Tell Motel. Room 210. No questions. Just come.”

V’s brows furrowed slightly. Suspicious as hell.

"That’s never a good sign," Johnny’s voice piped up from behind her.

She sighed, rubbing her temple. "No shit."

Johnny leaned against the desk, arms crossed. "So? Gonna ignore it like a smart person, or are you gonna go running straight into a setup?"

V smirked. "You already know the answer to that, old man."

Johnny scoffed. "Goddamn adrenaline junkie."

V stared at the email a little longer. She’d go. Of course she would. But tomorrow. Right now, she had more pressing matters—like dinner, and the fact that River was still in the kitchen, wasn’t paying attention, still caught up in the war between his heart and his head. If he had been, he might’ve noticed the way V stiffened slightly, her eyes scanning the screen with sharp focus.

She lingered on the message for a few seconds longer before sighing, shutting the screen. 

V pushed off her chair, padding toward the kitchen with quiet steps. The moment she got close, she wrapped her arms around River’s waist from the back.

"Whatcha thinking about, detective?" she teased, resting her chin against his back.

River jolted slightly, chuckling under his breath. "Nothin’."

V raised an eyebrow against him. "Yeah? ‘Cause you’ve been stirring that sauce for like five minutes straight."

River blinked down at the pan, realizing she was right. He’d completely zoned out, lost in a daydream of something too good to be true.

He sighed, setting the spoon down. "Just… stuff."

V hummed, squeezing him lightly. "Stuff like?"

River turned in her hold, facing her fully now. His hands instinctively settled on her waist, thumbs brushing over the fabric of her tank top.

"Stuff like how I apparently have a ‘knack for old things.’"

V smirked, not missing a beat. "You do. I stand by it."

River huffed a laugh, shaking his head. "Yeah, yeah."

She looked up at him with that little half-smirk that always meant trouble, and he felt that dangerous pull—the one that made him forget all the reasons he used to keep his distance.

V was trouble. The best kind.

River felt V’s arms tighten briefly around his waist before she pulled back, her teasing smirk still in place. "You just gonna stand there and distract me, or you actually gonna help?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

V hummed, tilting her head in mock consideration. "Hmm… tempting offer."

Then, without answering, she leaned up and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek before slipping away, heading straight for the fridge. River watched her, shaking his head as she grabbed a drink, popped it open, and took a slow sip. "Yeah, that's what I thought," he muttered, going back to stirring the sauce.

But instead of coming back to him, she veered off toward the pool table near the kitchen.

River glanced over just in time to see her climb up onto it, settling herself down with that same lazy, smug grin. He raised a brow, setting his spoon down. "Okay. What exactly are you doing?"

V stretched out her legs, crossing them at the ankle, taking another sip from her drink before flashing him a wicked look. "Enjoying the view."

River huffed, shaking his head as he turned back to the stove. "You’re impossible."

"Mmhmm," V hummed, her voice playful. "But you love it."

She watched him work, muscles flexing as he moved, that natural ease in the way he handled the knife and pan. He was focused, but she didn’t miss the way his jaw tensed just a little.

She smirked. Oh, this was fun.

"Y'know," she mused, her voice dropping just a little, "watching you cook is kinda turning me on."

River nearly choked on nothing. His hand hesitated for just a fraction of a second before he resumed chopping, his ears definitely a little red.

"V." His voice carried a warning, but she could hear the rough edge to it.

She grinned, licking her lips. "What?"

River sighed through his nose, "You’re not gonna let me focus, are you?"

V stretched her arms out, feigning innocence. "Hey, you’re the one who asked if I was gonna help or just distract. You got your answer."