Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The lake shimmered beneath the golden breath of morning, soft fog curling low over the surface like a veil reluctant to lift. From the bedroom window of the lakehouse, Valerie stood still, arms crossed loosely over her chest, her silhouette framed in that tranquil light. Her red hair, now longer and softer than it had been in her merc days, cascaded past her shoulders in elegant waves, catching glints of sun that peeked through the mist.

Behind her, the bed still held the warmth of shared dreams. Judy stirred under the covers, letting out a lazy stretch as her eyes blinked open. Her hair pink and green as ever was longer too, the dyed strands falling messily over the left side of her face. The right side of her head was still shaved, revealing the BD port that glowed faintly in the dawn. She squinted at Valerie, her voice husky with sleep.

“Morning, mi amor. Why are you up already?”

Valerie turned, the quiet smile on her lips already telling a story. “Just… thinking. These past ten years? Gone like that.” She snapped her fingers gently, then shook her head. “And now my baby girl’s getting married.”

Judy sat up a little, tucking the blanket under her arms, her smile mirroring the one in Valerie’s. “We haven’t seen her in a month. Can’t lie, I’m glad she made time to come home for it.” She paused. “She deserves it. They both do.”

Valerie moved to the edge of the bed, took Judy’s hand, and lifted it to her lips. She kissed the skin just above the glinting gold of her wedding ring. “It still feels surreal. She grew up looking so much like me… and then she went and got the same chrome loadout.” She chuckled softly. “Ballistic compressor and all.”

Judy gave her hand a playful squeeze. “Maybe your reckless streak rubbed off on her after all.”

Valerie snorted a laugh. “Yeah, but… Sindy was her birth mom. I always wonder how she turned out so much like me.”

Judy tugged her down gently beside her. The comforter shifted as Valerie sank in, their bodies fitting together like puzzle pieces worn smooth over time. “Stop worrying about it,” Judy whispered into her ear. “We gave her a good life. One where she could choose to be kind, to help people. Everything else? That’s just love doing what it does.”

Valerie kissed her cheek. “You’re right.”

Judy smirked, brushing a few strands of red from Valerie’s eyes. “I always am.”

Valerie let herself relax for a beat before murmuring, “Vanessa booked me to play Wildest Dreams tomorrow. Thinking it might be time to debut that new track.”

Judy’s fingers trailed lazily across Valerie’s chest, tracing the edges of her tattoos. “It still feels weird hearing ‘Ashes Rise’ on the radio.”

Valerie grinned. “Well, at least I don’t sound like a chainsaw anymore. Got some range now.”

Judy rolled her eyes. “You never sounded that bad. But this sultry, soulful tone you’ve grown into?” She gave a teasing wink. “Mmmhmm. Gets me every time.”

A glance at the wall clock pulled them both from the warmth of bed. Valerie exhaled. “Better get moving. We’re meeting Sera and Sandra soon.”

Playful nudges and stolen kisses marked the rhythm of their morning as they moved through the bedroom.

Valerie dressed in a black tank top emblazoned with her debut album logo Love Through Loss. A cross of two red roses entwined inside a blooming lotus stretched across the chest in bold crimson ink. She pulled on a pair of faded jeans and her scuffed silver rocker boots. Then she slid into her Clan Alvarez vest the phoenix on the back ablaze with vibrant stitching, “Clan Alvarez” wrapping around it in fierce pride. Lotus flowers adorned the front beside the rows of stitched roses and a patch with Judy’s name near her heart.

Judy matched her stride, donning her own Alvarez vest over a sleek black tank top. Fitted jeans, black boots, and a quick kiss to Valerie’s shoulder sealed the moment.

The lakehouse had only grown more beautiful over the years. Its rustic wood and glass design framed views of the surrounding forest and glistening water, a blend of warmth and Nomad practicality. The open-concept kitchen gave way to a wide, airy living space filled with records, guitars, BD gear, and potted plants Judy insisted gave ‘character’ to the place. Wind chimes danced softly on the back deck as if the lake itself were humming.

Out in the garage, the scent of engine oil mingled with the hum of tuned tech. Valerie checked over her gleaming Purple Arch Nazare Racer, fingers dancing across the chrome handlebars and engine housing. She ran diagnostics, calibrated the interface, and gave it a loving pat.

Judy hit the garage door switch. The light spilled in as Valerie wheeled the bike out. Then Judy climbed on behind her, arms sliding effortlessly around her wife’s waist, resting her cheek against Valerie’s back.

With a roar and a purr, they tore off down the winding road toward the home their daughter built, and the future she was about to claim.

Today was Sera’s wedding day, and nothing could’ve made them prouder.

The air was crisp as the Arch Nazare cut through the back roads, wind curling around them with the chill of elevation. Trees lined either side of the rural trail, tall and dense with that early autumn glow leaves catching fire with gold and rust. As they crested the final hill, the road dipped into a soft basin where Sera and Sandra had built their home. A sleek solar-paneled garage flanked the main house, a single-level Nomad-modern build with matte stone siding, paneled glass, and reclaimed steel details. Wind chimes tinkled from the eaves.

Panam’s old Mackinaw was already parked out front, her Aldecaldo markings faint now but still honored in spirit. Valerie eased the motorcycle to a stop beside it, kicking out the stand with a soft metallic click.

Behind her, Judy leaned forward, arms still around Valerie’s waist, and muttered into her ear with a playful tone, “Of course the Palmers beat us here. We’re never early enough for them.”

Valerie smirked as she cut the ignition. “Some things never change.”

They dismounted, boots crunching softly against the gravel path as they made their way toward the door. Through the wide front window, they spotted a familiar silhouette Sera, moving between the hallway and the living room. It hit Valerie all at once. How grown she looked. How close today had finally come.

Valerie swung the front door open without knocking. Judy followed her inside, the door clicking shut behind them with a warmth that felt like home.

With a mock-formal tone, Valerie called out, “Commander Jellybean, are you ready for Operation Getting Hitched?”

From the living room, Sera emerged mid-eyebrow raise, lips twitching. “Wow, Mom. Haven’t called me that since I was twelve.”

She looked older now, and wiser too. Her medium-length red hair was tousled from the wind, her long bangs brushing the side of her cheek. Freckles had darkened slightly, and her eyeliner mirrored Judy’s signature style, sweeping softly from the corners of her emerald eyes. Piercings dotted her right brow and the side of her nose, and her ears carried simple hoops. A phoenix tattoo climbed the side of her neck, mirrored by full sleeves inked with roses, lotus flowers, a star shower, and song lyrics.

Judy folded her arms, smirking. “You still liked Jellybean enough to tattoo a jellyfish on your hand.”

Sera groaned. “I just got back into town and you’re already roasting me.”

Valerie pulled her in for a hug before she could protest more. “You’ve earned it, Starshine. I’m just proud of you.”

Judy joined them, arms wrapping around them both. “So, how’s the road been treating you two?”

Sera pulled back, brushing a hand through her bangs. “Rough as hell. Gangs keep creeping in on settlements, but Clan Alvarez doesn’t play nice. We hold our ground.”

That’s when Sandra came in from the hallway. Her long brown hair hung in soft waves, and her brown eyes gleamed with joy. A matching phoenix burned brightly at her neck, and Sera’s name was inked across her knuckles. Stud earrings lined her ears minimal, but striking.

“Nice to see you both again,” she said, walking in with a small wave. “The roads are wild lately, but we always make it through.”

From the kitchen came Panam’s voice, casual and impatient: “Why the hell are you standing in the foyer? There’s free beer in here!”

Valerie grinned. “Can’t argue with that.”

Vicky chimed in next: “Cookies too!”

Sandra nudged Sera with a grin. “I don’t think our moms will ever grow up.”

Together, they all funneled into the kitchen cozy, open, warm with natural wood tones and lights casting soft glows over the counter. A small sound system hummed with low rock music, and the fridge was already half-empty thanks to Panam’s early arrival.

Judy took a sip of the chilled beer Panam handed her. “So,” she said, eyeing Sera across the kitchen island, “you’re really wearing my old wedding dress?”

Sera smoothed a hand over her hip. “White and gold always looked elegant on you. I’m honored you’d let me.”

Sandra grinned at Vicky. “Thanks for letting me wear yours too, Mom.”

Vicky smiled warmly. “It’s just a simple white dress not nearly as fancy as Judy’s, but I’m glad you love it, sweetheart.”

Panam leaned against the counter. “Aldecaldos are already setting up the venue out near the ridge. Should be good to go in a couple hours.”

Valerie’s face suddenly tensed. “Shit, I forgot to remind Jen to bring the flowers!”

She pulled out her holo, typing fast as Judy snorted from behind her glass. “You had one job.”

“Hey,” Valerie shot back with a grin, “I still handled it.”

Sera shook her head, half-laughing. “You’re hopeless, Mom. I still want you walking me down the aisle, though.”

Valerie paused, blinking once, then smiled slow and full. “Never thought I’d have this chance.”

Panam nudged Sandra. “What about the after party?”

Sandra shrugged, thoughtful. “I was hoping Ainara might cook something. Doesn’t have to be big. I just want to spend the night with all of you.”

Judy pulled out her holo. “Then I’ll let Grams know we’re coming hungry.” She tapped out a message with a smirk.

Sera took a long sip of beer, leaning back against the counter. “You’d think we’d have planned all this earlier.”

Vicky raised her bottle. “You two are always gone. Hard to get more than a week with you anymore.”

Valerie turned to her daughter. “Still proud of you, Starshine. You might be a better merc than I ever was.”

Sera’s voice softened. “Only because I learned from the best.”

Panam looked over at Sandra with a proud glint in her eye. “You surprised me, kid. You were just a little hyper bean barely up to my hip. Now you’re tearing through the wasteland fixing everything in sight.”

Sandra shrugged, reaching over to take Sera’s hand. “Love makes you do crazy things, right?”

Vicky raised her beer. “Damn right it does.”

Sera turned toward Sandra, fingers tightening around hers. “We should head to the venue. You ready to do this?”

Sandra leaned in, kissing her softly. “Been ready, babe.”

With that, the group moved out Valerie and Judy on the Arch, Panam and Vicky climbing into the Mackinaw, Sera and Sandra stepping into their armored Nomad rig. The engines roared to life.

A short ride later, the small wooden chapel came into view, nestled against the edge of the pines. Decorations fluttered in the breeze, and members of both clans were already gathered in preparation.

The day had only just begun, but love was already in full bloom.

The ceremony space had been transformed into something quiet and breathtaking.

Set against the pine-lined backdrop of the Klamath hills, the wooden chapel had no walls just a beam-framed arch open to the lake beyond, draped in white silk and soft desert flowers. Twin banners hung above the altar: the fierce phoenix of Clan Alvarez in brilliant crimson and gold, and the weathered A with the skeletal horse of the Aldecaldos in desert tan and iron grey. Lanterns hung from twisted willow poles. Sunlight spilled in beams across the aisle, filtered through the leaves like blessing fingers from the sky.

Sandra stood beneath the banners, her white dress a flowing blend of Nomad simplicity and quiet elegance. Silver threading lined the edges, catching the sun like starlight. Her breathing was steady, but her hands trembled just slightly, folded in front of her as she waited.

She scanned the gathered crowd, taking in every face every presence that mattered.

To her left, Panam and Vicky stood arm-in-arm, dressed in matching vests and soft smiles. They looked at her not just with pride, but with full hearts like their daughter was finding the happiness they had once dreamed of.

To her right, Judy sat in a dark violet dress, hair framing her face like a watercolor brushstroke, her expression proud and misty-eyed. Beside her, Ainara regal as ever in desert-toned formalwear held a hand over her heart, eyes gleaming with generational joy.

Further back, Vanessa and Jessica leaned together, the polished black of Vanessa’s exotic chrome offset by Jessica’s pristine white mods. Across from them, Jen and Dante sat in matching Alvarez jackets, nodding quietly, their presence calm but solid.

Clan Alvarez and the Aldecaldos filled the seats in respectful silence, united in this moment. Scarves, clan patches, and vests were polished, pride worn like armor.

Then, the music began with soft guitar and ambient strings, and all heads turned.

At the far end of the aisle, framed by morning light, Sera stepped through.

Her white and gold dress shimmered softly, hugging her figure in ways both graceful and strong. Gold embroidery danced along the hem. Her red hair was styled back just enough to reveal the earrings she’d been gifted by Judy years ago, and her piercing emerald eyes were fixed straight ahead.

Valerie stood beside her, radiant in a simple yet striking purple dress that hugged her frame, her long red hair pulled elegantly to one side. Their arms were looped together, steady and sure.

Sera’s breath hitched for half a beat when she saw Sandra waiting for her. Her chest swelled with emotion, and she bit her lower lip to keep it together. Sandra looked stunning everything she loved about her, glowing inside out.

As they walked down the aisle, Valerie gave her daughter’s hand a warm squeeze and leaned in.

“Love you, Sera,” she whispered.

Sera looked at her, eyes soft. “Love you too, Mom. Thanks for everything.”

When they reached the altar, Valerie kissed her daughter’s forehead and stepped back to join Judy, who pulled her close the moment she sat down. They held each other in silence, hands interwoven, watching their daughter shine.

Sera turned to face Sandra, her hand gently reaching out to take hers.

“Sandra…” she began, voice steady but full. “I remember the day we met. We’d just been kidnapped by the Raffen, thrown into a nightmare we didn’t ask for. But even then, you made me feel safe. You protected me, and I protected you. That’s who we became. That’s what we’ve been ever since. Partners. Fighters. You always gave me strength when I didn’t know I had any left. I promise, I’ll always fight for you.”

Sandra smiled through misted eyes, never breaking their connection.

“Sera… You’ve been my shield, my fire, and the reason I kept going through every broken place in the world. You showed me love wasn’t a fantasy, it was something we could build. You gave me the best ten years of my life, and I know the next ten will be even better. Even when life’s hard, I’m with you. All the way.”

Sera swallowed, blinking quickly.

She reached out with both hands, raising them between them.

“Sandra,” she said softly, “would you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”

Sandra reached up, brushing her fingers gently across Sera’s knuckles.

“You already know the answer,” she whispered. “Yes. A thousand times yes.”

There was no hesitation in the kiss they shared tender at first, then full of heat and triumph. When they pulled apart, the officiant handed them the certificate. They signed it side by side.

Sera Alvarez.
Sandra Alvarez.

A hush swept the gathering, then cheers erupted. Their clans, their mothers, their friends all voices rising in one wave of love and celebration.

Ainara approached the altar with a white cake on a cedar plank, gently placing it beside the certificate. “This is an Alvarez wedding,” she said with a grin. “You will eat something sweet.”

Sera and Sandra laughed, playfully cutting the first slice together, smearing a small bit on each other’s cheeks before wiping it off with soft kisses.

They stepped outside together, where tables were being set under colorful banners beside the lake. The breeze was calm, the trees rustled like they were clapping. It was perfect.

Before the crowds arrived for food, they sat at a private table under the canopy with their moms.

Judy poured iced fruit tea into four mismatched glasses, the clink of ice soft beneath the rustle of lake breeze. She slid one to Sandra with a smile, then handed another to Sera, her fingers lingering for just a second.

“You were brilliant up there,” Judy said softly, eyes glinting with pride. “Every word, every breath you had the whole room holding theirs.”

Sera grinned, cheeks still a bit flushed. “Had a good example growing up.”

Judy leaned in and kissed her temple. “Don’t make me cry again.”

Valerie reached across the table, nudging Sera’s shoulder with a wink. “You made it, Starshine."

Sera turned, leaning into her mom’s touch for just a moment. “Couldn’t have done it without you.”

Valerie smirked. “Guess I didn’t mess you up too bad, huh?”

Sera chuckled. “Still time.”

That earned a shared laugh around the table.

Panam stepped forward, arms folded casually across her chest, but her eyes were warm and a little wet.

“You looked like a warrior and a queen all rolled into one,” she said, her voice thick with emotion. “I’m proud of you, Sandra.”

Sandra stood up and hugged her immediately, burying her face against Panam’s shoulder.

“I love you, Mom.”

“I know, baby. I know.” Panam squeezed her tight before gently handing her over to Vicky.

Vicky stepped in, taking Sandra’s hands in hers, eyes searching hers for a long moment. “You’re not just my daughter,” she said softly. “You’re my miracle. Everything you are, everything you’ve become it’s more than I ever dreamed of. And I’m so damn proud of the life you’ve built.”

Sandra wiped a tear off Vicky’s cheek and whispered, “Thank you for trusting me. For loving me through it all.”

Sera came around and wrapped her arms around both Panam and Vicky from behind. “And thank you for giving me the woman I love.”

Panam snorted. “Damn right. You better treat her like royalty.”

“Always,” Sera said.

Judy looked over at Valerie, her hand resting on hers. “Think we did okay, huh?”

Valerie let out a slow breath, her eyes locked on the two women now entwined in hugs and laughter under the shade.

“We did more than okay,” she said, voice thick. “We gave them the life we fought for.”

They stayed there a little longer, the six of them at that quiet lakeside table, letting the laughter and warmth soak in. Just family, and love. The rest of the world could wait.

The sun dipped low over the lake, casting golden light across the long wooden tables set just outside the little wedding chapel. Strings of soft paper lanterns swung gently in the breeze, swaying above plates stacked with roasted vegetables, wild rice, grilled salmon glazed in citrus spice, and warm bread that smelled like home.

Ainara Alvarez moved with practiced grace between the dishes, her hands still nimble despite the years. She wore a deep indigo shawl with tiny embroidered phoenix feathers, and her presence brought with it the kind of calm that settled the soul.

Sera and Sandra sat close at one end of the table, their shoulders touching, both still glowing from the ceremony. They had slipped off their heels and curled their bare toes into the cool grass, dresses catching the evening breeze.

Panam and Vicky sat across from them, plates half-empty, wine glasses catching the pink shimmer of sunset. Panam’s arm lay draped casually across the back of Vicky’s chair, and her rare soft smile never strayed far from Sandra.

Valerie and Judy sat on the opposite side of the long table, side by side, hands interlaced beneath the tablecloth. Judy had kicked one leg up onto the bench, leaning into Valerie’s side, her head resting just beneath her shoulder.

Ainara finally sat down with a small plate of her own, wiping her hands on her apron as she looked at the gathered table.

“Can’t remember the last time we all sat down without a gun within arm’s reach,” she said dryly, then took a bite of rice.

Valerie chuckled. “Gotta admit, it’s nice seeing everyone fed instead of patched up.”

Panam raised her glass. “To peace, even if it’s temporary.”

Everyone raised theirs, the soft clink of glasses ringing under the open sky.

“To peace,” they echoed.

Conversation faded for a few minutes, the comfort of the meal taking over. The clatter of forks, the occasional low laugh, and the buzz of lake insects blended into a harmony that could only exist in places like Klamath Falls where survival had finally given way to something resembling serenity.

Judy reached over, brushing a thumb across Sera’s cheek. “You’re glowing.”

Sera smiled, cheeks warm. “Still feels like a dream.”

Valerie leaned forward, her voice soft. “You earned this. Both of you did.”

Sandra nodded. “Felt like we were always chasing something. But this… this is where we stop running.”

Ainara smiled knowingly. “Or start running together.”

Laughter bubbled again, gentle and unforced.

As the last bites of dinner disappeared and the lanterns began to glow brighter in the deepening dusk, Sera stood, her fingers threading through Sandra’s.

“We should go change before I sweat through this dress.”

Valerie rose with them, brushing her hands on her dress. “Good idea. Before you go, though, Sera.”

Sera turned, catching her mom’s gaze.

“There’s a wedding gift waiting for you back at the house.”

Sera blinked, surprised. “What is it?”

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

Sandra beamed. “Should we be nervous?”

Judy rose beside Valerie. “Not unless you’re afraid of a little sentiment.”

Panam waved from her seat. “Hey, don’t forget to swing by tomorrow. We’ve got a fire pit waiting.”

“Wouldn’t miss it,” Sandra said, reaching across the table to hug both her moms in turn. “Thank you. For everything.”

Vicky squeezed her hand. “Now go enjoy your night.”

They stepped inside the chapel changing out of their dresses.

As they stepped back outside Ainara began to clear the plates with a gentle hum on her lips.

Valerie, Judy, Sera, and Sandra made their way toward the edge of the venue where Valerie’s Arch Nazare racer waited. Sera, and Sandra got into their rig with a smile from both before entering. The lakehouse shimmered in the distance under the last gold light of the evening.

Four riders, one family. The path home lit only by stars and the promise of a new beginning.

The front door creaked open with a soft groan, and Sera stepped inside the Lakehouse the place that had been her home long before she ever touched chrome. The familiar scent of cedarwood polish and coffee grounds still lingered faintly in the air, like time had barely moved.

The living room opened before her, warm and inviting. Wide bay windows framed the darkening lake beyond, its surface glinting beneath the pale blush of moonlight. A few art pieces still hung on the reclaimed wood walls Valerie’s early sketch of a Phoenix mid-flight, Sera’s childhood drawing of a three-eyed cat, and a framed print of one of Judy’s BD posters from her early editing days.

She walked forward slowly, boots barely making a sound on the old hardwood floors. Her hand brushed along the back of the couch as her eyes wandered, memory after memory unfurling like soft petals. Morning breakfasts with her moms at the kitchen bar. Reading books under the throw blanket with Sandra when they were thirteen. Learning Merc math from Valerie at the kitchen table. All of it returned in a tide.

Sera turned right, walking down the hallway toward the back rooms. She paused outside her old bedroom door now cracked open just enough to reveal soft ambient lighting and a few hanging sound panels.

She stepped in and looked around.

“You turned my room into a recording studio?” she called out, half amused, half stunned.

Valerie’s voice floated from somewhere down the hallway, light and teasing. “Figured you’ve got your fancy little house now. Besides, that room was too quiet without someone yelling about books.”

Sera smiled as she turned a slow circle, taking in the acoustic foam panels, the sleek keyboard setup, the soundboard on the desk that still had a few old pictures of her stuck in the corner.

“It’s okay,” she called back. “Looks awesome in here.”

Judy’s voice rang out next. “Come sit on the couch!”

With a laugh, Sera made her way back down the hall, her boots clicking lightly. The living room was bathed in warm gold lamplight. Judy sat at one end of the curved sectional couch, legs folded under her, while Sandra was already sprawled comfortably across the other end, a relaxed grin on her face.

Sera flopped down beside her wife and leaned into her side.

Judy gave them both a playful squint. “So. You maintaining Screwbie alright out there? Don’t need him turning rogue and deciding to annex Bend.”

Sandra let out a chuckle. “Still safe inside the rig. But his vocabulary’s gotten a bit... colorful, thanks to someone.” She nudged Sera with a smirk.

Sera raised her hands. “You call someone a dust-riddled piece of shit one time, and suddenly the rig starts giving me warnings like: ‘Caution dust-covered pieces of shit detected nearby.’”

Judy nearly choked on her laughter. “Good thing your other mom doesn’t ride with him anymore. He’d short out trying to match her sarcasm.”

Sera grinned. “Mama, your new movie’s playing now, right?”

Judy nodded with a soft smile. “Yeah. Warriors in Love. Two women defending their hometown from a hostile takeover. Bit of action, bit of rebellion... and of course” she winked “a bit of romance.”

Sandra raised an eyebrow. “You mean steamy romance scenes?”

Judy smirked. “Tasteful. But effective.”

“We’re checking it out tomorrow,” Sera said. “After our meeting with Panam and Vicky. Gotta support local cinema.”

Sandra leaned closer with a whisper. “You better buy me popcorn.”

From the left hallway, Valerie’s footsteps echoed lightly across the wood floor. She stepped into view, holding something wrapped in a dark cloth. The moment she entered, both Sera and Sandra turned their heads. Sera’s breath caught in her throat she knew that shape. That weight.

Valerie stopped in front of them and held the bundle steady.

“Go ahead, Starshine,” she said quietly. “I want you to have it.”

Sera blinked, then slowly reached forward, unwrapping the cloth. Beneath it rested The Laguna Belle, polished and still as beautiful as the day Valerie last fired it. The etched roses across the barrel glinted in the lamplight. The carved lotus emblem at the grip was still perfect.

“Are you sure?” Sera asked softly.

Valerie nodded, her voice thick. “She got me through everything. And now it’s time she watches over my daughters.”

She placed a hand gently on Sandra’s shoulder, her eyes soft.

Sera turned the shotgun in her hands with reverence, her voice hushed with emotion. “Thanks, Mom. I’ll take care of her.”

Judy reached over from the side of the couch, resting a hand on Sera’s knee. “Love you, Sera.”

Sera blinked a few times, fighting back a wave of emotion. “I love you both. Thanks for giving me the best life a girl could ask for.”

They stayed like that for a while, the four of them curled into the couch, stories and laughter flowing freely. Outside, the lake shimmered silver in the starlight. The air was quiet except for the distant chirp of frogs and the occasional whisper of wind through pine.

A few hours later, Sera and Sandra stood by the door, The Laguna Belle strapped carefully to Sera’s back. Valerie pulled Sera into one last hug, followed by Judy.

“Don’t forget the popcorn,” Judy teased with a wink.

“And tell Screwbie to watch his damn language,” Valerie added with a smirk.

Sera grinned. “Will do.”

With a wave, the two young women stepped into the cool night air, walking back to their rig with arms wrapped around each other. Back to their home, their life, and whatever adventure came next.

Inside, Valerie and Judy stood together, watching them go.

“She turned out alright,” Valerie murmured.

Judy leaned against her shoulder. “Better than alright. She turned out just like her moms.”

The stars were just beginning to bloom across the night sky by the time Sera and Sandra made it home. Their boots thudded gently against the porch as they walked up hand in hand, Clan Alvarez jackets tugged snug around their shoulders. Laughter still lingered on their lips from the ride, soft and genuine.

Inside, their home welcomed them with quiet warmth walls lined with old photos, little mementos from the road and their earliest missions. A lantern glowed low on the entry table. The scent of cedar and faint wildflowers still hung in the air from Ainara’s bouquet left on the dining table.

Sera closed the door behind them, clicking the lock before turning toward Sandra. “Well… we did it.”

Sandra smiled wide, cheeks still glowing from the day. “We’re wives.”

Sera stepped in close, sliding her fingers under the edge of Sandra’s jacket. “You nervous?”

“Not anymore,” Sandra whispered. “You’ve always been the calm in the storm.”

Sera leaned in, kissed her softly, then again. “You’re the one who kept me grounded.”

Sandra chuckled. “You’re still a little chaotic.”

“Yeah,” Sera breathed, “but I’m your chaos now.”

Their jackets hit the floor first. They stepped out of their boots, untangled from the dusted denim of the day. Shirts followed slowly, wordlessly until they stood in the quiet warmth of the room, lit only by the soft amber glow of the bedside lamp.

Sera led her gently to the bed, her hands a steady warmth against Sandra’s back. She laid her down with care, trailing kisses from shoulder to stomach, each touch gentle but full of promise. Sandra’s breath hitched as Sera’s lips moved lower, reverent.

“I want you to feel everything,” Sera whispered, brushing her fingers down Sandra’s thighs.

Sandra nodded, her voice barely audible. “I trust you.”

Sera kissed her deeply before sinking lower, her mouth soft, her pace deliberate every movement designed to cherish, not conquer. She tasted her slowly, savoring each sound Sandra made, every quiet shudder, every whispered moan.

Sandra’s fingers twisted in the sheets as her back arched. “Sera…”

Sera gripped her hips, steady and sure, and kept going until Sandra trembled beneath her, gasping with release. Then she climbed up, holding her close, pressing kisses to her cheek, forehead, and jaw, not needing words just closeness.

“I love you,” Sandra whispered, voice shaky but sure.

Sera pulled her tighter into her arms. “I’ve always loved you.”

They stayed wrapped up in each other for a while, tangled in warmth and quiet joy, the room heavy with the intimacy of all they'd become. Nothing rushed, and nothing loud.

Just a celebration meant only for two.

The storm of sensation had passed, leaving only breathless stillness and the soft sound of night drifting through the open window. Outside, the wind rustled through pine boughs, and somewhere in the distance, a coyote called into the dark.

Inside their bedroom, Sera and Sandra lay tangled together beneath the quilt, bare skin flushed and glowing in the lamplight, the air still laced with warmth and lavender from the candle on the windowsill.

Sandra lay curled against Sera’s chest, her fingers tracing lazy circles across her wife’s stomach, her cheek nestled just beneath Sera’s collarbone. Every now and then she smiled for no reason at all just the afterglow, the safety, the overwhelming rightness of the moment.

Sera stroked a hand down Sandra’s back, slow and rhythmic. “Still with me, Mrs. Alvarez?”

Sandra let out a sleepy laugh. “I better be. Not letting you out of my sight anymore.”

Sera chuckled, kissed the crown of her head. “That was the plan.”

They lay there in silence for a little while, just breathing in sync, listening to each other’s hearts.

Sandra finally spoke, her voice soft. “You think we’ll always be like this? You and me… helping people, coming home, falling asleep like this?”

Sera’s hand paused for a moment before continuing its gentle path down her back. “Yeah. I do. We might get a little older. Might need more patches after each job. But this?” She gave Sandra a little squeeze. “This is the part I’ll never get tired of.”

Sandra tilted her head to look up at her. “What if someday… we stop running gigs?”

Sera’s eyes softened. “Then we’ll build something here. Maybe a workshop. Maybe something like the old camp school. A place where kids can learn more than just survival.”

Sandra blinked, then smiled. “You’ve really thought about this.”

“Only every time I watch you fall asleep in the passenger seat,” Sera teased. “You make me think about the long game.”

Sandra kissed her shoulder. “Good. I want all of it. The jobs. The quiet days. A big garden. Maybe a robot dog that keeps trying to eat the flowers.”

Sera laughed under her breath. “Sounds perfect.”

They nestled closer, letting the silence stretch again.

After a while, Sandra whispered, “Do you think your moms ever feel this… happy?”

Sera smiled. “Every time my Mom looks at Mama like she hung the stars in the sky, yeah I think they feel it.”

Sandra closed her eyes. “Then we’re on the right path.”

Sera brushed her fingers through Sandra’s hair, kissed her forehead, and pulled the quilt higher around them. “Yeah. We are.”

They let the quiet take them. Wrapped in each other’s arms, hearts steady, the world outside could wait.

Tonight belonged only to them.

Chapter Text

The first light of morning poured in soft and amber through the kitchen windows, cutting long shadows across the floorboards and warming the worn edges of a home that had seen love and fire in equal measure. Outside, the trees swayed gently under a passing breeze, and the lake whispered somewhere just beyond the open back deck.

Inside, the air smelled of maple and browning batter.

Sandra stood at the stovetop barefoot, her hair tied up loosely, strands slipping down to frame her cheekbones as she flipped pancakes on the griddle. The radio played something slow and distant in the background guitar-heavy, soft vocals just brushing the edge of memory.

“Supposed to meet my moms in an hour at the campfire celebration,” she said over her shoulder, her voice thick with sleep and honey.

Sera sat at the kitchen counter, cross-legged on the bar stool, a needle between her fingers and a half-sewn pocket stretched across the back panel of her Clan Alvarez jacket. The fabric was draped carefully in her lap, and she worked in slow, methodical stitches.

“Okay, babe,” she murmured, tongue peeking out from the corner of her mouth. “I can see why Mom thought this was more practical than a leg holster.”

Sandra turned briefly to pour a mug of coffee, then set it beside her with a soft clink.

“Might only have today before we hit the road again,” she said, sliding back toward the stove. “Highland Junction’s already pinged twice. They’re requesting help on recon and freight security.”

Sera glanced up from her stitching, one brow raised.

“Shouldn’t we at least get a honeymoon before going back to work?”

Sandra flicked a few fingers through her hair, not looking back.

“I’m sure we’ll find someplace,” she replied easily. “Even if it’s just a quiet cliff with a bottle of tequila and no signal for ten clicks.”

Sera held up the jacket, inspecting the seam.

“Think it’ll hold?”

Sandra turned, catching her with a half-smirk and heat behind her eyes.

“If it doesn’t, let’s pray the shotgun doesn’t misfire when it hits the ground.”

Sera grinned and slid the jacket on. The leather creaked as it settled over her shoulders. She picked up the Laguna Belle, her mother’s legacy now reborn in her own hands. The underbarrel attachment once necessary in the chaos of Kassidy’s war was gently removed and set aside. Clean now. Streamlined. Ready again.

She slotted it into the fresh holster stitched into the jacket’s back. It sat snug. Centered. Weight shifting neatly across her shoulders.

“Feels right,” she said.

Sandra turned fully to face her, one hand on her hip, the other still holding a spatula.

“Looking good, my love.”

Sera took a long sip of the coffee Sandra had poured her earlier, the steam rising in front of her face as she watched Sandra flip the final pancake onto the growing stack.

She unholstered Belle after testing the weight placing the shotgun back down on the counter.

She stood and moved around the counter, grabbing two plates from the cabinet without needing to be asked. She brought them over, shoulder brushing against Sandra’s as they plated the food together with a quiet, easy rhythm, born of long mornings like this one.

Sandra turned off the stove while Sera refilled their mugs.

They sat side-by-side at the island, the sunlight now sliding slowly across the floor and up over the cabinets. Sera drenched her pancakes in syrup like she always did. Sandra, ever more restrained, simply watched her with quiet amusement before reaching over and stealing a bite.

Sera turned her head, one eyebrow raised.

Sandra just smiled, lips sticky.

“Keep looking at me like that, and I’m gonna eat all your pancakes.”

Sera leaned back slightly, fork poised.

“Your plan was to distract me with your beauty all along, wasn’t it?”

Sandra laughed, the sound low and easy.

“If I just wanted the pancakes, I would’ve never married you.”

They shared playful bites, and teases. Soon after the plates were empty.

Sera leaned across the table, kissed her slowly. Sandra smiled into it, then wiped at her mouth with a napkin.

“Still sticky,” she teased.

Sera winked.

“Tastes better this time. Sweeter.”

Sandra gave her a playful smack on the arm.

“Wash up before you get syrup on everything.”

Sera poked at her cheek with one finger.

“You look cute with syrup on your face.”

Sandra rolled her eyes and tossed a napkin at her.

Sera caught it, held it up like a trophy… then leaned over and licked the syrup off her cheek anyway.

“Mission accomplished.”

Sandra nudged her under the island with her foot.

“Seriously we need to clean up. My moms will be waiting.”

Sera sighed dramatically and lowered her head against Sandra’s shoulder.

“I’m glad we agreed to uphold your traditions too.”

Sandra ran her fingers through her hair. ”The chapel was beautiful, but now it's time to get our rings.”

They stood and moved together through the quiet ritual of washing up plates, silverware, wiping down the counter. They didn’t talk much. They didn’t need to. The silence was the kind that lived in couples who’d long since passed the need to fill every space with words.

A short while later, Sandra shrugged into her Clan Alvarez jacket. The Phoenix emblem caught the sunlight in a soft glint, stitched over denim faded by time and travel.

They stepped out into the early breeze, the rig waiting for them at the end of the driveway. The engine purred low as Sera slid into the driver’s seat, Sandra already climbing into the passenger side.

The dirt road stretched ahead quietly, sun-washed, familiar. Pines stood tall on either side, their shadows reaching across the ground like memories.

Sera glanced sideways, watching Sandra’s hair ripple in the wind. Sandra leaned into her, one hand resting lightly on her knee, the other curled against her own chest as she looked out the window.

They didn’t speak much during the drive.

Didn’t need to.

Just let the morning drift around them wind on skin, sun through glass, the world still quiet enough to let them simply be.

The Aldecaldos camp rose into view over the next hill, the scent of burning wood and desert sage already catching on the breeze.

Sera pulled the rig to a stop beside a row of familiar bikes.

Sandra leaned in, brushing her fingers over Sera’s hand on the shifter.

“Ready to get our rings?”

Sera nodded, voice low.

“Been ready, babe.”

Sera turned the engine off and rested her hand on Sandra’s knee for a breath before they both stepped out into the light.

The air smelled like burning mesquite and cinnamon spice someone was cooking for the whole clan. Children ran past with metal cups in hand, laughter trailing behind them. Sparks popped softly from the central fire, still alive even this late into the morning.

Panam spotted them first and was already crossing the dirt, her arms open and sure. Sandra didn’t hesitate; she met her halfway in a tight embrace.

“You’re here,” Panam said, the corners of her voice touched by emotion. “Today feels whole now.”

Vicky followed, slower but smiling. She clapped Sera on the back gently, then leaned in for a one-armed hug.

“Hope you two are ready to be spoiled.”

“We brought our appetites,” Sera said with a soft laugh.

“Good,” Vicky replied. “Cuz Raul’s chili is back on the fire, and Jaro swears he actually got the corn cakes right this time.”

They were guided into the heart of the camp, where a woven blanket had been laid down with plates of food already forming a loose semicircle. A few members waved them over people Sera didn’t know by name, but whose smiles were open, whose hands reached without hesitation.

They sat cross-legged on the blankets. Sandra’s leg brushed Sera’s. At some point, one of the kids ran over and gave Sandra a flower with a big, toothy grin.

“A wedding flower,” she said proudly.

Sandra beamed. “It’s perfect.”

There were stories, too, like Nomad stories. Short ones. Half-true ones. A few people teased Panam about her own wedding to Vicky years ago, recounting how the engine of their rig had caught fire right as they exchanged their vows, and Panam hadn’t flinched.

“Vows are easy,” Panam shrugged. “Fixing an overheating valve under pressure? That’s commitment.”

Everyone laughed.

The campfire crackled louder as midday approached. Guitars gave way to hand drums, and some of the younger Aldecaldos started dancing barefoot in the dust. Sandra pulled Sera up from the blanket, grinning as she spun her once. Sera was stumbling, and laughing, before steadying into her arms.

They danced a little. Swung each other gently. Slow and close, no choreography, just the rhythm of being known.

It wasn’t loud. It wasn’t wild.

It was home.

When they finally returned to the edge of the fire, Panam was waiting, her expression soft now, the celebration still warming the air around them.

She nodded once to Vicky, who reached into a small canvas satchel and drew out the wooden box carved with care, the Aldecaldos insignia burned into the lid.

Panam stepped into the circle.

The camp grew still not silent, but focused. Reverent.

“We’ve already honored your marriage once,” Panam began, her voice low, hands at her sides. “And it was beautiful. You brought your family together under the sky and gave your word to each other. That’s a sacred thing.”

She paused, looking between Sandra and Sera.

“But this… this is what we do. This is how we welcome people into the heart of the clan. Not just through name. But through road, and fire. Through choice.”

Vicky opened the box. Inside were the rings handmade, each one etched with Nomad cant and burnished smooth.

Panam turned to Sandra first.

“You’ve always been ours. You grew into this fire. You carry it like a breath.”

Then she turned to Sera.

“And you, you chose to walk beside her. You brought your own fire, and you never asked to lead, only to belong.”

Vicky handed the rings to them, one to Sandra, one to Sera. There was no instruction, no demand. Just the weight of what it meant.

They turned to face each other again, still dust on their boots, sunlight on their faces.

Sera took Sandra’s hand and slipped the ring on.

“Where you ride, I ride,” she said, voice steady.

Sandra smiled and returned the gesture, her fingers sure and gentle.

“And where you rest, I rest.”

The fire popped softly.

Then cheers broke out, not wild, not raucous. Just full, and real.

Panam stepped forward and wrapped them both in a tight embrace. Vicky followed, resting her hand on the back of Sera’s head as she pulled her in.

“Now you’re family by bond,” Panam whispered. “And that never breaks.”

The rest of the camp returned to life, drums rising again, stories bubbling back up. But for a few long seconds, it was just the two of them in the firelight. Rings warm on their fingers. Arms around each other. A road stretching ahead that didn’t need to be named.

The sun had started its slow drift westward, casting long shadows across the sand and turning the sky the color of worn copper. The celebration had begun to wind down naturally with no sudden stop, just a gentle easing as people found shade, quiet corners, or hammocks slung between trucks. The fire still burned, low and steady, more for comfort now than for ceremony.

Sera and Sandra sat side by side on one of the large canvas mats near the outskirts of camp, their backs leaning against a solar-charged rig that hummed faintly behind them. Sandra had kicked off her boots and folded her legs beneath her, her head resting lightly on Sera’s shoulder. The warmth between them wasn’t loud, it didn't need to be.

A few feet away, Panam approached with two cups of cooled coffee. Vicky trailed behind her, holding a flask and four small clay cups she’d scavenged from a gear trunk. They didn’t say much at first just settled in, lowering themselves to the ground with a quiet familiarity, like they’d done this a hundred times before.

Panam passed the drinks out, then sat cross-legged, arms draped casually over her knees.

“Figured the fire was nice… but this might be better.”

Sera took the cup, hands still warm from Sandra’s. She glanced at Vicky, who handed her a shot of something stronger.

“Thanks for all of this,” Sera said, voice soft. “It meant more than I can really say.”

Panam gave a small shrug, but her eyes didn’t leave hers.

“You don’t need to say it. You showed up. That’s what matters.”

Sandra looked down at her ring, running a thumb gently along the engraving inside. Her voice was quiet, thoughtful.

“I always knew I’d be married one day... but I didn’t think it would feel like both parts of me could belong in the same space.”

Vicky leaned back, propped up on one arm.

“That’s the trick,” she said. “Getting both parts to stop fighting each other long enough to just be.”

Panam looked at Sandra for a long moment.

“You’ve always belonged. Even when you haven't seen it yet.”

She turned her gaze toward Sera.

“And you… you could’ve just been here because of her. That would’ve been enough. But you made yourself part of us. You worked. You bled. You stayed.”

Sera’s throat tightened slightly. She took a sip of the coffee, its bitterness grounding her.

“I didn’t want to just be the girl Sandra loved. I wanted to earn a living being part of this.”

“You did,” Vicky said plainly. “Over and over.”

They sat in silence for a while comfortably. The fire popped somewhere in the distance. A breeze picked up, carrying with it the scent of desert sage and something faintly sweet.

Sandra shifted slightly and looked between them.

“Do you remember the first time I told you about her?” she asked Panam.

Panam smiled faintly.

“You didn’t shut up for an entire ride. Wouldn’t stop saying her name just ‘she’s got these eyes’ and ‘I don’t know, she gets me.’ Thought you’d been shot with a goddamn biopulse.”

Sera laughed, the sound soft against the fading light. Sandra nudged her knee gently.

“I hadn’t even kissed you yet. I just knew.”

Sera looked down, then up at Panam and Vicky, her voice quieter.

“It means a lot… that you both wanted to do this for us.”

Panam tilted her head.

“You’re family. We celebrate.”

Vicky sipped from her cup, then looked at Sandra.

“Now comes the real work.”

Sandra smirked.

“Does that mean you’re handing us jobs again?”

“Maybe,” Vicky said, deadpan. “Maybe not.”

Panam glanced between the four of them, then let her voice settle into something softer.

“Marriage isn’t the ring. It’s the ride.”

“And sometimes,” she added, “it’s making sure the rig’s still running when the storms hit.”

Sera leaned into Sandra a little more, fingers laced quietly with hers.

“We’ll ride through it. All of it.”

Panam raised her cup. Vicky mirrored her.

Sandra followed.

Sera lifted hers last.

They clinked them together not loudly, not ceremonially. Just enough.

Then they drank.

The fire still burned in the distance, and around it, four women sat grounded in the same truth:

That love was chosen. That family was earned, and that this, right here, was the kind of peace they’d all been chasing for a very long time.

They stood wrapping Panam, and Vicky in tight hugs.

Sera smiled. “Told my Mama I would take Sandra to see her new movie while we were in town.”

Sandra's eyes gleamed. “It sounds exciting.”

Panam smiled. “Go have fun lovebirds.”

Vicky placed an arm on Sandra’s shoulder. “Make sure you say goodbye before you leave town.”

Sandra nodded. “We will have breakfast tomorrow I promise. Valerie, and Judy too.”

Sera smirked. “I'll make sure they get up, and moving tomorrow.”

With one last hug shared they got into their rig heading towards City Center.

The engine hummed low beneath them as the rig rolled back into town, headlights sweeping across street signs and darkened storefronts as the last glow of daylight dipped behind the lake. The wind was cooler now, carrying the scent of pine and warm pavement. City Center was quieter at this hour less bustle, more pause. The kind of calm that came after a day that meant something.

Sera glanced over at Sandra as they pulled up in front of the Klamath Falls Theater, neon marquee glowing above the entrance:

NOW SHOWING WARRIORS IN LOVE Written and Directed by Judy Alvarez

She grinned.

“Think your mom wrote herself in as the rebel or the romantic?”

Sandra smirked, already halfway stepping out.

“Depends if she gave the other one a shotgun.”

They stepped out, boots echoing faintly on the sidewalk as they made their way up the short flight of stairs. The lobby was lit in soft gold and red tones, worn in just enough to feel familiar. The scent of buttered popcorn hit them immediately, warm, sharp, nostalgic.

Sera headed straight for the counter.

“Popcorn?” Sera asked, already eyeing the biggest bucket.

Sandra leaned in with a smirk. “Only if you’re feeding me.”

Sera raised a brow. “Oh, we’re doing that tonight?”

“Depends how charming you are at the counter.”

Sera chuckled. “Drink?”

“Large. Like my patience with your flirting.”

“Greedy.”

“Married,” Sandra said, bumping her hip as she passed. “Perks come standard.”

Sera rolled her eyes, amused, and ordered the largest bucket they had and two drinks, one cola, one cherry fizz. She handed Sandra hers before balancing the tub of popcorn in her arms like sacred cargo.

They made their way inside the main theater, which was modest but well-kept. Cushioned seats. A few scattered couples and solo viewers already settled in, chatting quietly or scrolling holos as they waited for the previews to end.

Sera led them to a pair of seats near the middle good view, not too close. She set the drinks in the holders and handed the popcorn to Sandra before shrugging off her jacket and draping it across her lap.

The screen flickered as the studio logo faded.

“This feels weird,” Sera whispered. “Like, that’s my mom. Up there. On a movie screen.”

Sandra smiled, then leaned close enough for her voice to be only heard for Sera.

“We get to watch her fight for love. That’s kind of the Alvarez brand.”

The movie began.

Opening shot: a burning skyline. Sirens. Gunfire in the distance. Then the camera swept down to reveal two women in matching jackets, crouched behind a rusted car, exchanging glances and whispered plans.

Judy’s name hit the bottom of the screen in bold font.

Written and Directed by Judy Alvarez.

Sandra’s hand found Sera’s without hesitation.

They didn’t talk much during the film. Just small reactions. A little laugh when one of the characters quipped something dry and painfully familiar. A sharp inhale when a fight broke out inside a ruined arcade. A soft smile when the two leads found each other in the middle of the chaos, hands trembling but steadying one another.

Sandra glanced at Sera once and saw the faint shine in her eyes, the pride she wasn’t saying out loud.

She squeezed her hand.

Halfway through the movie, Sandra leaned over and whispered:

“Think she based that line on something your mom actually said?”

Sera grinned, eyes still on the screen.

“If it involves blowing something up while flirting? Definitely.”

They shared the popcorn between soft laughs and quiet awe, two voices woven into the shadows of the theater, watching someone they both loved tell a story that, in a way, was theirs too.

When the credits rolled Judy’s name glowing center screen once again neither of them moved right away. They just sat there, hands laced, hearts full.

“She did it,” Sandra said softly.

“Yeah,” Sera murmured. “She really did.”

The theater lights eased on in a slow glow, soft gold spilling down the aisles as the last names faded from the screen. A few scattered audience members stretched and filed out in murmurs, but Sera and Sandra lingered, still holding hands in the gentle hush that followed.

Neither of them said much at first. There was nothing that needed to be spoken just yet. Just the echo of Judy’s story still clinging to the screen, and the quiet truth that it had hit deeper than either of them expected.

Sera finally leaned forward and reached for her holo from the inner pocket of her jacket. The screen lit up, reflecting across her cheekbone as she tapped open the message thread labeled Mama.

She stared at it for a second.

Then typed, slow and careful.

Sera:
We just finished watching Warriors in Love. I cried. A little.
Okay, maybe more than a little.
It was beautiful.
Thank you for writing something that felt like home.
We’re so proud of you. So damn proud.
Love you, Mama.

She hit send, then tucked the holo back in her pocket and let out a soft exhale.

Sandra nudged her shoulder with her own.

“Think she’ll cry when she reads it?”

“Probably.” Sera smiled. “She’s earned it.”

They stood, Sera slid her jacket back on before grabbing the empty drink cups and slipping quietly into the aisle, then out into the cooler night air.

The streets were quiet now, the hum of nightlife softer here than it ever was in Night City. Neon glowed gently above shops closed for the night, old tech stores, a vintage vinyl shop with a dusty “OPEN TOMORROW” sign, a quiet corner café with string lights twinkling above the patio.

They walked without hurry, side by side, arms occasionally brushing. Sandra had her hands in the pockets of her jacket, Sera walking close enough that their steps stayed in rhythm.

The stars were starting to cut through the haze overhead. Farther off, the lake reflected the town’s glow like a calm, listening mirror.

“Kind of crazy,” Sera said softly, “seeing the woman who used to tuck me in at night become a legend on a movie screen.”

Sandra glanced over, smiling faintly.

“She’s always been a legend.”

“Yeah. But now she’s got credits and a soundtrack.”

“And explosions!” Sandra exclaimed.

Sera laughed under her breath.

“Definitely her touch.”

They stopped at the corner where the streetlight buzzed overhead, casting a wide halo over the old brickwork. Sera looked up, her hand found Sandra’s again.

“Today felt… right.”

Sandra nodded, squeezing gently.

“Like we stitched everything together.”

Sera leaned in, resting her temple against Sandra’s.

“No better place to end it than under the stars, full of popcorn, and bragging about our moms.”

Sandra smiled. “Let’s make it a habit.”

They stood there a moment longer two silhouettes against the amber glow of their hometown, woven together by road, fire, and love.

They returned to the rig ready for a night alone at home

The rig rumbled softly beneath them as the town gave way to open stretch again, the pavement unraveling into the quiet two-lane road that led toward the lake and the Alvarez home.

The windows were cracked just enough to let in the breeze. The night air carried the scent of pine and distant water. The world felt still.

Sandra rested her head against the window, eyes half-closed, the soft thrum of tires against asphalt lulling her toward something close to sleep. Sera drove with one hand on the wheel, the other resting lightly on Sandra’s knee.

There wasn’t any music playing. Just the hum of the engine and the comfort of being exactly where they were meant to be.

The rig pulled into the driveway under the wash of warm porch light. Sera shut it down and stepped out first, stretching briefly before circling around to help Sandra out. They didn’t say much, just exchanged tired, quiet smiles as they stepped onto the porch and into the stillness of home.

Inside, the house welcomed them like it always did: the scent of wood and desert air lingering in the walls, low lights already on, casting golden glows across familiar shelves and the soft sprawl of couch cushions.

Boots were kicked off at the door. Jackets hung. Phones forgotten.

Sandra disappeared into the kitchen for a moment to grab them each a glass of water, while Sera lit one of the low wall lamps near the living room couch. She pulled a blanket down from the backrest, already settling into the cushions with a contented sigh.

By the time Sandra returned, she’d tucked her knees under herself and patted the space beside her.

Sandra set the glasses on the side table and dropped onto the couch with a sigh of her own.

Sandra leaned in without hesitation, her body curving into Sera’s side like it was always meant to be there. Her hand resting on Sera’s waist.

Sera let the moment breathe.

Then reached out and picked up a small, worn book from the nightstand, a weathered collection of short stories bound in soft brown leather. The edges were frayed, pages marked with small notes and creases from years of re-reading.

She opened it without asking.

Sandra let out a quiet hum, closing her eyes as her head settled against Sera’s shoulder.

“Start with the one about the train,” she murmured.

“Already there,” Sera said softly.

She began to read.

Her voice was low, steady measured like the turning of a wheel on gravel, like the steady burn of a campfire. The story unfolded slowly, filled with dusty roads, stars seen through cracked windshields, and characters who loved each other through long nights and longer silences.

Sandra didn’t speak. She didn’t need to. Her fingers curled gently around the hem of Sera’s shirt, holding her there without ever saying it aloud.

Outside, the lake rippled in the darkness. Inside, time slipped by in soft page turns and the warmth of skin against skin beneath a shared blanket.

Eventually, Sera paused mid-sentence.

“You falling asleep on me?”

Sandra’s voice was the faintest whisper.

“No… just listening.”

Sera smiled and brushed her lips gently across Sandra’s temple.

“I’ll keep going.”

The words filled the space like music, rising and falling with the rhythm of love lived long. The world, once again, gave them peace enough to simply be.

Tomorrow they hit the road once again, but tonight they had each other.

Chapter Text

The backstage area of Wildest Dreams was half-lit and humming with low, pulsing vibrations walls layered in soundproofing mesh, BD signal relays, and faint neon veins tracing the ceilings like circuitry. The distant thump of bass from the house floor was muffled, but present like a heart just out of reach.

Valerie stood near the mirror, guitar strapped to her shoulder, breath steady but deep. The silver body of the instrument glinted as she flexed her hands over the strings, checking tension, checking herself.

Judy crouched in front of a junction panel tucked into the wall, eyes flicking across the soft-blue interface. Her fingers worked quickly checking feed latency, data pressure, emotional bleed range. The light from the screen painted her cheekbones with pale electric shimmer. Her brows furrowed in quiet concentration, lips moving just slightly as she read through the signal output.

Valerie stepped over, boots clicking quietly against the steel flooring.

“How’s she lookin’?” she asked, nodding at the interface.

Judy smiled up at her, that calm, deliberate smile that always landed just below Valerie’s ribs.

“Stable, smooth, no fragment drift. The BD grid’s already syncing to your core vitals.” She paused, tapping once more. “Memory bleed’s at thirty percent. Should keep the projection clean, but emotional fidelity’s still sharp. They’ll feel it.”

Valerie let out a slow breath, fingers lightly drumming the guitar’s edge.

“You sure it won’t pull anything… raw?”

Judy stood, brushing her hands off on her jacket. She stepped close, closer than tech-checks required, and lifted her palm to Valerie’s cheek. Her thumb grazed just under her eye, then traced the line of her jaw down to her neck, where the thin, subdermal BD relay sat just beneath the skin. A soft, violet pulse flickered under the surface, like a heartbeat caught in the throat.

“I tuned the sync myself, Val,” she said gently. “It’ll only show what you choose to share. But if anything feels like too much, just squeeze the neck of your guitar. That'll throttle the bleed in real-time.”

Valerie tilted her head slightly, giving her that small smirk the one that only surfaced when the walls came down.

“So basically, you wired up my trauma to a light show.”

Judy chuckled.

“Technically… I wired your healing to one.” She kissed her lightly. “Besides what’s the point of rising from the ashes if nobody sees the flames?”

Valerie looked down, then up again. Her hand found Judy’s and gave it a gentle squeeze.

“Alright. Let’s show 'em what love through loss really looks like.”

Judy nodded, stepping back toward the panel and tapping the final sequence.

“BD feed is yours, mi amor. You’re live in five.”

The violet pulse beneath Valerie’s skin glowed brighter for a moment then settled, calm and synced.

She turned toward the stage stairs, the murmur of the crowd growing louder beyond the curtain. The guitar in her hands hummed faintly through the relay. Every heartbeat, every breath, every fragment of memory ready to become light.

Behind her, Judy watched her go. Quiet, proud, and still working the science of love like only she could.

The club had gone quiet in that reverent way only Wildest Dreams could pull off like the world had suddenly remembered how to listen.

Valerie stood in the soft silver glow at center stage, her body still, her expression calm but unreadable. Her guitar, polished silver chrome with purple inlays, with a lotus flower etched on the base rested against her hip like it belonged there as much a part of her now as her heartbeat. She adjusted the strap once, her fingers brushing the etched name on the neck, and looked out past the lights.

Judy made her way from the backstage area to the front row, her eyes locked into Valerie.

Valeire's eyes found her, and she smiled. Not a showy grin. Just something warm and intimate, something that didn’t need an audience.

“This one’s for her,” Valerie said into the mic, voice husky with emotion. “It’s the title track off the album. About how we found something beautiful... even when everything else was on fire.”

A soft ripple passed through the room. The lights above dimmed, leaving only her and the guitar bathed in a pale, almost moonlike shimmer. Then she strummed the first chord low and slow, vibrating deep into the bones.

“I was ashes…”
“…scattered in a world gone cold.”

Her voice was sultry and smooth, but just cracked enough to carry weight. The words spilled out like smoke, rising from memory unpolished, aching, true.

“Carving dreams from the wreckage…”
“Never letting go…”

“You found me broken in the blackest night…”
“But your voice cut through like morning light…”

On-screen, the BD visuals shimmered into motion: fractured echoes of rainy alleyways, a rooftop held together by neon and a trembling kiss. Valerie curled closer to the mic, her tone dipping into a near whisper.

“Didn’t ask for saving…”
“Didn’t know I could feel…”

“But your touch turned the silence…”
“Into something real…”

Then her voice rose smooth giving way to steel.

“We found love through loss…”
“Through fire and pain…”
“In a city built to break us…”
“We rose again…”

“Every scar…”
“Every shadow we crossed…”
“Led me home to your heart…”
“We found love… through loss…”

The chorus poured out of her like it had lived in her chest for years.

The crowd didn't move. They were suspended some with closed eyes, some with hands clutched over their hearts. Judy’s breath hitched, her hands slowly rising to cover her mouth.

Valerie’s fingers danced again.

“I saw ghosts in chrome reflections…”
“Lived on borrowed time…”

“But you kissed the fear…”
“Out of every line…”

The tempo slowed, breathless.

“We danced through the static…”
“We dared to dream…”
“You’re the calm in the chaos…”
“My only peace…”

The guitar began to rise again, carried by a gentle harmony in the background just enough to lift her next words like wind beneath falling leaves.

“Didn’t need a promise…”
“Just the way you stayed…”
“When the world fell down…”
“You never looked away…”

Then came the second chorus, louder now like the song was finally catching fire.

“We found love through loss…”
“Through fire and pain…”
“In a city built to break us…”
“We rose again…”

“Every scar…”
“Every shadow we crossed…”
“Led me home to your heart…”
“We found love… through loss…”

Her voice cracked just enough on the word home. She didn’t hide it.

Instead of a third verse, the music thinned. The lights softened to a hush. And Valerie stepped forward, unplugged from the BD feed entirely. Just her, just the raw guitar, and her voice, bare and open as the night she almost didn’t survive.

“Lotus bloom…”
“…where the blood once ran…”

“Two roses for the lives…”
“…we couldn’t plan…”

“But I’d do it all again…”
“Just to see you stand…”

“Right here….”
“Right now….”
“With your hand in my hand…”

She looked straight at Judy.

And then, with every fiber of herself, she sang the final chorus.

“We found love through loss…”
“Through tears and flame…”
“Through the nights we thought we’d never reclaim…”

“But here we are…”
“No more lines to cross…”

“Only light in your eyes…”
“We found love…”

“Through loss…”

The last note faded like the final breath of a long, storm-tossed night. Then silence.

For one long second, there was no sound.

Then the bar broke. Cheers erupted, hands clapped to hearts, people stood to scream and cry. The BD projectors flickered back on in a storm of rose petals and rising lotus blooms.

Judy didn’t move frozen in place, tears streaking her cheeks, hands trembling. Valerie set her guitar gently aside, eyes never leaving Judy’s.

Then she mouthed, “For you.”

Valerie didn’t wait. She turned back toward the mic, lips curling into a sly, defiant grin. That tenderness? Still there, but something sharp now gleamed beneath it. She slung the guitar lower and stepped forward into the light.

“Enough crying,” she said, voice fierce and bright. “Now we rise.”

The first strum was filthy. Distorted. Heavy. The kind of sound that grabbed your ribs and rattled your spine. The crowd roared on instinct, fists already pumping. A ripple of gold-red light swirled overhead, like fire blooming in the air.

Then she spoke not sang, spoke, the words rough like broken glass polished by time.

“Snake Nation tried to kill me.”

“They hurt my family.”

“I’ve endured their shit.”

“With every bullet I’ve been hit.”

She paused. Let it hang.

“Like a Phoenix…”
“I rose again.”

The bass dropped like a bomb. The stage exploded in sound and motion. Valerie was a force now moving, burning, alive. The BD visuals behind her flared with street battles, flaming roads, Klamath Falls in ruins, and then rising. The lotus emblem on her guitar glowed violet in the dark.

She shouted into the mic, voice slamming like a war cry.

“SPREAD YOUR WINGS!”

The crowd erupted.

“SPREAD YOUR WINGS! SPREAD YOUR WINGS!”

“UNLEASH YOUR RAGE!”

“SHOW THEM WE DON’T BELONG IN A CAGE!”

Fists hit the air. Feet stomped. Some people cried while screaming. Others screamed while smiling. Everyone felt it. The anger. The grief. The pride. The rebirth.

The lyrics burned through the room like scripture. Names whispered of the dead. Families lost. A city that had fallen, then clawed its way back on bloodied knees.

“Every throw of the dice, we’re the ones who pay the price…”

“We are the virtue locked inside their vice!”

Valerie wasn’t just performing. She was the anthem. Stalking the stage like a storm, eyes glowing in the lights, hair whipping around her shoulders, guitar growling beneath every scream. She howled the bridge into the crowd like a challenge:

“We’ll never fade away…”

“Even when we crumble like clay…”

“Let’s show ‘em we won’t obey!”

The crowd fired back, word for word.

“SPREAD YOUR WINGS! SPREAD YOUR WINGS! SPREAD YOUR WINGS!”

“UNLEASH YOUR RAGE!”

“SHOW THEM WE DON’T BELONG IN A CAGE!”

By the end, she was on her knees, screaming the last verse with fire in her throat and tears on her cheeks.

“WE JUST RISE AGAIN!”

“RISE AGAIN!”

“RISE… AGAIN!!”

The final scream tore from her like lightning, cracked and perfect.

“WE WILL RISE!”

Everything stopped.

The lights died out, the smoke stilled, and for a single breath the whole city held still with her.

Then came the roar.

A tidal wave of sound. A crowd transformed. Chanting her name. Chanting the city’s name. Chanting the words like they were more than lyrics.

“WE WILL RISE!”

Judy rushed the side of the stage, arms open, tears falling.

Valerie, still panting, still fire-eyed, let the guitar rest in the strap. Then ran straight to her, and kissed her like the world hadn’t burned and rebuilt itself just to see them standing here now.

The last scream still echoed in her chest as she stepped offstage, sweat curling down the line of her neck, her throat raw from the storm she’d just unleashed. Judy slipped to the back booth while she caught her breath.

Ashes Rise was still burning in the crowd's lungs. She could feel it even here, behind the low partition curtain separating the stage from the private booth area. The BD projectors were slowing down now, tapering their riot-red visuals into a more subdued shimmer of violet ash, embers falling through the air like the aftermath of something holy.

Valerie rolled her shoulders and unstrapped her guitar, her body buzzing with adrenaline. Her boots echoed across the polished floor as she slipped past the staff hallway and into the intimate alcove nestled just off the stage. The world here pulsed lower, cooler lit in hues of deep plum and gold. Velvet drapes swayed under the push of recycled air. Glass panels fogged gently in the corners where warmth met chill.

There they were.

Judy sat waiting in the booth, one arm draped across the backrest, her other hand curling around a half-poured glass of Centzon Tequila. Her eyes caught Valerie the moment she stepped in wild and warm and worshipful, rimmed with smudged liner that shimmered slightly beneath the light.

“Tore the place down,” Judy said, voice low, proud. “They’ll be coughing up ash for a week.”

Valerie smirked, collapsing into the seat beside her and exhaling like she hadn’t since stepping onstage. “Then it’s working.”

Across the table, Vanessa lifted her glass in greeting. Her yellow eyes caught the light like molten gold, framed by the sleek, wolf-like plates of her dark exotic augments. They shimmered as she moved a woman who carried elegance like a concealed blade.

“You weren’t performing,” Vanessa said coolly. “You were testifying.”

“I felt my fucking lungs shake,” added Jessica, perched beside her, tail coiled neatly along the bench. Her chrome-threaded cheeks flashed with that faint blue glow as she leaned forward. The white fennec ears twitching slightly with every throb of the subwoofers gave her a soft, wild poise that belied the heat behind her grin. “That second song? That was war in lipstick.”

Valerie chuckled, low and spent, and reached for the bottle in Judy’s hand.

She poured herself a heavy shot. No flair, no toast. Just the burn. She took it back fast, the liquid slicing down her throat in a way that almost soothed the ache left behind by her scream.

Judy’s hand slid onto her thigh beneath the table, grounding her.

“Crowd’s still riding it,” Judy murmured near her ear. “But they’re waiting. You’ve got two left. You sure you wanna go soft next?”

Valerie looked down at the half-empty glass, then leaned into the warmth at her side.

“Yeah,” she said quietly. “I bared the pain. Now I want to give them peace.”

Jessica traced lazy circles on her own glass. “They won’t expect it. You dropped napalm. Now you’re gonna make 'em cry again.”

“Good,” Vanessa said. “Real tears, not projection spills. You earned it.”

The four of them sat like that for a moment caught in the eye of the storm, wrapped in low music and soft lights and the scent of smoke and tequila. The curtain pulsed behind them as the stage lights began to shift once more, resetting from ash to deep indigo.

Judy looked over at her, brushing a hand through Valerie’s damp hair.

“You ready?”

Valerie leaned in, kissed her slowly. No heat, no fire, just presence. Her lips lingered, her breath still tasting of Centzon and adrenaline.

“Always.”

She stood again, reaching for her guitar. The BD link reactivated with a soft hum beneath her ear. She flexed her fingers, exhaled slowly, and stepped into the light.

It was time to give them the calm after the storm.

The crowd was still catching its breath when the lights bloomed anew, brilliant white against a background of midnight blue like stars punching through deep sky.

Valerie strode back onstage, her silver guitar slung low again, jacket still off, tank clinging to her skin in the humid haze of the club. She moved with that same grounded fire every step confident, but crackling with emotion just beneath the surface.

She grabbed the mic, voice still rough from the last two songs, but steady with warmth.

“Everyone having fun?!”

The crowd roared in return, the kind of response that made you feel taller.

Valerie grinned, eyes dancing.

“One of the best parts of surviving this long,” she said, “is getting to be a mom.”

That quiet hush returned different now. Curious, reverent.

“My little girl got married yesterday.” Her voice caught for just a second, but she didn’t hide it. “She couldn’t be here tonight, but I’m sure most of you remember Sera.”

“She used to sneak into rehearsals back in the day. Thought no one saw her hiding behind the amps.”

“I always called her Starshine 'cause she lit up the darkest parts of my life like a star across a black sky.”

Valerie’s fingers brushed the strings.

“This one’s for her. It’s called Starfall.”

The first few notes rang out clean, radiant, a steady riff that shimmered like starlight skipping over glass. Then the bass kicked in, low and warm, followed by the drums, steady and pulsing like a heartbeat ready to run.

Valerie ran with it.

Her voice burst into motion, bright, powerful, alive.

“You were born in the dark, but you burned so bright
Little laugh like lightning, heart full of fight
I was hollow, just heat barely holding on
Then you called me Mom… and the shadows were gone.”

She spun on her heel, stepping toward the crowd, eyes glinting. The BD projectors flickered to life again this time not memory, but dream. A night sky unfolded behind her, slow and majestic, stars moving in time with the beat.

“You were starshine cutting through my night
Every step, you turned wrong into right
You gave me reason, gave me flame
You gave this broken world a name.”

The crowd was with her now clapping, stomping, hands in the air. Valerie’s energy was contagious, pure joy wrapped in grit. Her voice rose into the chorus like a flare.

“Fallin’ from the sky, you lit my way
Even when the world tried to burn us away
You’re the reason I kept climbing, kept the fight alive
Starshine, you saved my life
You’re my Starfall my fire in flight.”

Guitar solo. Fast, and spiraling. The kind of solo that didn’t need technical perfection because it was too damn busy being felt. Valerie bent low into it, hair flying, fingers blistering through the strings.

Then she rose back into the verse this time eyes shimmering as the emotion crept deeper in.

“You danced through warzones, fearless and free
Told me stories of hope I could barely believe
You held my hand when my mind lost track
Swore you’d bring my broken pieces back.”

Behind her, the BD feed showed a child running through a field of floating lights starlike embers rising from grass. Sera’s laugh echoed faintly beneath the music, just layered enough to feel like a memory half-remembered.

Valerie’s voice cracked on the next line, but she didn’t stop. She pushed through.

“Now you’ve got someone to hold you tight
To chase your dreams and guard your nights
But baby girl, just know this part
You’ll always be the center of my heart.”

She raised her head and sang into the final chorus, wide open and wild with love.

“Fallin’ from the sky, you lit my way
Even when the world tried to burn us away
You’re the reason I kept climbing, kept the fight alive
Starshine, you saved my life
You’re my Starfall my fire in flight
Yeah, my Starfall still burning bright.”

The outro slowed soft finger-picked notes echoing out over the room, backed by a gentle BD shimmer of a starfield in slow orbit.

“No matter where you fly… I’ll see your light
You’ll always be my… Starfall in the night…”

Valerie let the last note hang in the air.

Not a tear in her eyes, but something far heavier. A weight only mothers know. The kind you wear like armor made of memory and pride.

The crowd didn’t cheer right away.

They stood silent, and moved.

Then someone in the back raised a hand and called out, voice shaking…

“To the Starfall!”

The roar returned so loud it shook the walls.

The crowd was still pulsing from the ache of Starfall when Valerie stepped to the front of the stage, a different light behind her eyes now something calmer, older, but no less fierce. She scanned the room with a long look, letting the moment breathe. Her hand found the mic. She didn’t yell. She didn’t need to.

“I see a lot of Clan Alvarez here tonight.”

The crowd roared the sound of jackets rustling, hands rising, voices calling home.

“You know what this one is.”

A pause. A smile.

“Bring your energy. Help me close this the way we used to around the fire. This song’s called The Roads We Travelled.”

A cheer swelled like thunder.

She strummed once warm, steady, unhurried. The kind of sound that evoked old Nomad paths, stars overhead, boots in the dust. The BD projectors responded not with flash, but with soft flickers of flame campfires lighting up in the dark like a trail of memories across the club.

The guitar found its rhythm, and the crowd clapped in sync.

“We started out with rusted rigs and dreams we couldn’t name,
Dust in our teeth and hearts too wild to tame.
No maps, no roads just the fire we carried inside
And the ones who rode beside us through every brutal ride.”

Voices rose. First a few. Then dozens.

“We fought for more than just a place to rest,
We built a home outta blood and outta breath.
And when the silence tried to steal what we became
We shouted back and burned our name into the flame.”

Her voice lifted, and now the crowd sang with her.

“These are the roads we travelled!”
“These are the hands that pulled us through!”
“This is the fire we saddled!”
“This is the family we never knew!”
“We are the walls when the winds blow cold…”
“We are the story still being told!”
“This is the Clan, this is the vow!”
“And we’re still ridin’...still ridin’ now.”

Drums joined in not overpowering, just grounding. The tempo was steady, pulsing like a caravan heartbeat. Behind Valerie, the BD feed showed ghost-echoes of the early days convoys under moonlight, campfires in forgotten towns, Judy tuning radios while Valerie cleaned a rifle under starlight.

She stepped to the edge of the stage, lowering the mic so the front rows could carry it:

“We lost some names along the way
Tattooed in the dirt and the break of day.
But we remember. We keep them close.
Every mile, every toast.”

Vanessa stood now in the back of the room, raising a glass.

Jessica stood beside her, mouthing every word.

“We built bridges outta grief and flame,
Found sisters and brothers who’d take our name.
Now we ride for something true
A place that rose from what we knew.”

Valerie’s voice cracked but she didn’t pull back.

“These are the roads we travelled!”
“These are the scars that made us whole!”
“This is the bond we saddled!”
“This is the story burned into our soul!”
“We are the shield, we are the flame…”
“We are the ones who carved our name!”

The lights behind her flared, revealing one final image: dozens of Clan Alvarez jackets hung along the edges of the BD frame, each one stitched with a name. Judy. Valerie. Sera. Sandra. Ainara.

Every one of them is still riding strong.

“So here’s to the sparks that became our fire,
To the tired hands that still lift us higher,
To the love that turned the war into a home,
And the promise we’ll never ride alone.”

The final chorus rose not a performance, but a chorus of hearts. Valerie stood back, letting them take it.

“These are the roads we travelled!”
“These are the hands that pulled us through!”
“This is the fire we saddled!”
“This is the family that always knew!”
“We are the walls when the winds blow cold…”
“We are the story still being told!”
“This is the Clan, this is the vow…”
“And we’re still ridin’...still ridin’ now!”

Valerie strummed the last chord, letting it fade into the sound of voices still singing, clapping, holding each other close.

She didn’t speak.

She just pressed her fist to her heart, eyes glassy, and bowed her head once to the room that had become more than a crowd. It was Clan.

It was a family, and their roads were still being written.

Valerie stood center stage, her silver guitar resting against her hip, her chest still rising and falling from the final chorus.

The crowd was on their feet shouting, whistling, clapping in unison, still echoing the chant from The Roads We Travelled. Some were crying. Some were laughing. All of them were with her.

She lifted the mic one last time.

“Thank you, Wildest Dreams.”

Her voice cracked just enough to make it perfect.

The lights dimmed. The projectors faded into dusk-purple. And Valerie stepped offstage slowly, steady vanishing behind the curtain like a star slipping beneath the horizon.

The noise from the club dulled the moment she entered the backstage corridor. The hallway stretched long and quiet, humming with residual energy, the kind that lingers after something real has been said aloud.

She unclipped her guitar and passed it off to one of the tech crew with a grateful nod. Her boots were heavy against the floor now, the weight of performance giving way to something softer something earned.

At the end of the hallway, Judy was waiting.

She leaned against the wall with her arms crossed, still wearing that faint smirk the one she always wore when Valerie surprised even her. But her eyes were something else entirely.

Full, shining, and raw with pride.

Valerie didn’t say anything at first. Just stepped into her and wrapped her arms around her waist, pulling her close. Judy’s arms slipped around her shoulders without hesitation.

They stood like that for a moment. No words. Just the soft hum of cooling amps and muffled chants still drifting through the walls.

Eventually, Valerie broke the silence, voice rough with afterglow and tequila burn.

“My throat’s dead. My back’s wrecked. My fingers feel like I punched God’s teeth.”

Judy chuckled against her.

“You were beautiful.”

“I was sweaty.”

“Yeah.” A pause. “Still beautiful.”

Valerie pulled back just enough to rest her forehead against Judy’s.

“They sang with me, Jude.”
“All of them.”

Judy’s smile softened, her hand slipping behind Valerie’s neck to cradle the back of her head.

“Of course they did.”
“You gave them something worth remembering.”

They kissed slowly, steady, a grounding kind of kiss. The kind that didn’t ask for more. The kind that said I see you.

Valerie let herself breathe fully for the first time in hours.

“Let’s go home,” she whispered.

“Thought you’d never ask.”

They walked down the hall hand-in-hand, leaving behind the echo of applause, the taste of Centzon still on their tongues, and the kind of night that doesn’t just end it becomes part of the road.

The stars had followed them home.

Outside the tall windows of their lakeside house, the sky stretched wide and dark, scattered with constellations that shimmered faintly above the water. The night was quiet, the kind of hush that only comes after giving the world everything you had to give.

Inside, it smelled like pizza, worn leather, and the leftover charge of stage lights still clinging to Valerie’s hair.

She dropped the last slice of locust pepperoni with extra cheese onto the box with a satisfied grunt and collapsed sideways into the couch, one arm flung across Judy’s lap. Her boots had already been kicked somewhere near the entry. Her jacket hung off the couch, and her hair still a mess of sweaty red curls.

“I think my spine is officially soup,” she mumbled into Judy’s thigh.

Judy snorted and ran her fingers through her hair, nails scratching gently along her scalp.

“Rockstar problems.”

“My brain’s still humming that last chorus.”

“So are the neighbors, probably.”

Valerie cracked one eye open and grinned.

“They joined the Clan. Comes with front row seats, but not leftover pizza.”

Judy picked up a crust and bit into it lazily, her eyes flicking over Valerie’s profile still glowing faintly from the high. There was something soft in her gaze now. Something only Valerie got to see.

“You were a storm up there,” she said quietly.

“Yeah? Thought I might’ve overdone it.”

“No.” Judy leaned down and kissed the top of her head. “You gave them something to believe in again.”

Valerie closed her eyes. Let the moment settle into her bones.

Judy’s voice dropped lower, just above a whisper.

“You gave me something to believe in again.”

That pulled Valerie upright half-laughing, half-teasing, all affection.

“God, you’re gonna make me cry. Right after pizza. You monster.”

Judy smirked, then grabbed a couch pillow and thumped it softly against her arm.

“Shut up and snuggle, diva.”

Valerie twisted around and dropped fully into her lap, feet kicked up onto the coffee table, arms lazily wrapped around Judy’s waist.

“See, now this is the encore I wanted.”

“Don’t get used to it,” Judy said, though she was already leaning down to press a kiss just behind Valerie’s ear. “Tomorrow I’m making you carry gear.”

“Nope. I’m on vocal rest. Doctor’s orders.”

“You’re not seeing a doctor.”

“I am the doctor.”

Judy laughed, low and warm, and curled her hand around Valerie’s.

Outside, the lake lapped gently at the dock. Inside, the house glowed in soft lamp light, half a pizza forgotten on the table, and two women tangled together on a couch that had seen more memories than most stages ever would.

The water was already steaming by the time Valerie stepped in, eyes half-lidded, skin still flushed from the night’s momentum. Judy stood with her back to the spray, arms loose at her sides, hair slicked back and clinging to her shoulders.

Valerie didn’t say anything. She just moved in close and rested her forehead to Judy’s collarbone.

Judy’s hands found her waist.

“Mmm,” Judy murmured, her breath against Valerie’s temple. “You’re warm.”

“I was under the lights for two hours. I’m radioactive.”

“You’re dripping on my foot.”

“That’s love, baby.”

Judy huffed a laugh and slid her hands lower, palms gliding across Valerie’s lower back. She leaned back just enough to look at her, then brushed a thumb across the hollow of her throat.

“You still buzzing?”

Valerie nodded once.

“Little bit.”

“Good. I’m not ready to let go of tonight yet.”

She kissed her. Slow, steady. Not chasing anything. Just a quiet claim.

The kiss lingered as the water poured down around them, soft and hot. Valerie’s hands found the slope of Judy’s hips, fingers curling just slightly.

Judy broke the kiss first and smiled, brushing Valerie’s wet hair back from her face.

“Turn around.”

“Bossy.”

“You reek of tequila, sweat, and holy fire.”

“Don’t forget pepperoni.”

Judy gave her a firm nudge.

“Turn that sexy ass, guapa.”

Valerie turned with a quiet chuckle. Judy took her time lathering shampoo, fingertips gentle as she massaged it through Valerie’s thick red hair.

“Don’t fall asleep.”

“No promises.”

“If you slide down this wall I’m leaving you here.”

“If I slide, it’s to escape your unrelenting sensual scalp care.”

Judy pressed a kiss to her shoulder.

“You’re welcome.”

They stood there for a long while, water tracing every inch of their skin like memory. No rush, and no agenda. Just the rhythm of breath and body, the comfort of knowing that nothing else needed to be said.

The bedroom was dim and quiet, the lake outside silvered under the stars. The sheets were kicked halfway down the bed. Valerie was already under them, her bare legs tangled in the cool fabric, one arm stretched lazily behind her head.

Judy walked in toweling her hair, watching her with that faint, tired grin she always wore when she was already thinking about morning coffee.

“You claim the good side again?”

Valerie opened one eye.

“It’s the one with the window.”

“And?”

“I like the moon on your skin.”

Judy snorted and dropped the towel.

“You’re full of shit.”

Valerie smiled. “Romantic shit.”

Judy climbed in without another word, pressing close, their skin still warm from the shower. Her arm curled around Valerie’s waist as naturally as breath.

“You okay?” she murmured into the space beneath her collarbone.

Valerie’s hand stroked up her back in slow, lazy lines.

“I’m home.”

That was it.

No fanfare, or deep talk. Just that shared weightless calm that only comes when love has long outlived the need to be explained.

Judy kissed the edge of Valerie’s jaw, then rested her head against her chest.

“Don’t let me sleep through coffee.”

Valerie winked. “If you do, I’m drinking both.”

Judy laughed. “I’ll bite you.”

Valerie smirked. “Kinky.”

A soft laugh between them. Then silence. Honest, and full silence.

Their bodies tangled, legs hooked, hands finding familiar places without thought.

Outside, the lake breathed against the dock, and inside, everything else could wait.

Chapter Text

The scent of fresh coffee and sizzling chorizo filled the air, warm and grounding like a promise. Morning light streamed through the wide windows of Sera and Sandra’s house, casting soft gold across the dining table where the six of them had gathered, plates stacked with tortillas, roasted peppers, and scrambled eggs.

It was a quiet kind of morning peaceful, easy. The kind that didn’t rush you. Just let you exist in the moment.

Sera sat in her usual spot, hair still damp from a quick rinse, her Clan Alvarez jacket slung over the back of her chair. Beside her, Sandra was already halfway through her second tortilla, legs casually tangled with Sera’s under the table.

Panam and Vicky had claimed the bench across from them, coffee in hand, trading quiet side comments only they seemed to catch. Valerie and Judy were at the far end, close enough for conversation, far enough to lean into each other now and then between bites.

Judy reached for the coffee pot and refilled her cup with a casual ease, then glanced across the table at Sera.

“Hey,” she said with a crooked smile. “That message you sent me after the movie? That was beautiful.”

Sera blinked, caught off guard for half a second then smiled, a little sheepishly.

“Just wanted you to know how proud we are.”

Valerie cut in with a grin, sipping her coffee. “You definitely cried.”

Judy rolled her eyes, laughing. “Okay, yes, I cried. I wasn’t ready for the emotions.”

Panam chuckled behind her coffee mug. “Don’t think any of us were. The whole thing hit like a freight truck with romance.”

Judy shrugged. “Can’t help it if I write good kisses.”

Valerie bumped her shoulder, playful. “And war. Don’t forget the explosions.”

Then Judy’s tone shifted, just slightly softer, a little wistful.

“Still if you two had gotten back a week earlier, we could’ve had a wedding and a birthday to celebrate.”

She looked at Sera as she said it, with that quiet weight only a mother could carry.

Sera leaned back in her chair, lifting her coffee cup to her lips.

“You know I’ve never been big on birthdays.”

Sandra didn’t even look up from her plate as she answered:

“And I made sure she had one anyway.”

That earned her a grin and a kiss on the temple from Sera, and a round of knowing smiles from the rest of the table.

The conversation drifted gently after that soft banter, shared stories from the night before, light teasing about who burned what the last time they tried to cook together. Forks scraped plates. Coffee was refilled. The kind of breakfast that fills more than your stomach.

Eventually, Judy stood and dusted off her hands on her jeans.

“Be right back. Left something in the Racer.”

Valerie glanced at her. “What kinda something?”

Judy smirked. “The kind that doesn’t go stale.”

With that, she stepped out through the front door, letting the morning breeze curl through the kitchen in her wake.

Inside, the rest of them stayed seated, letting the warmth of food, laughter, and familiar company settle in like sunlight on old wood.

The front door creaked open again, and Judy stepped back inside, wiping her hands on her jacket as if brushing off dust that wasn’t there. She held a small box tucked carefully under one arm no wrapping, no bow, just that familiar worn cardboard with a corner slightly dented from age and use.

She walked straight over to Sera.

“I still wanted you to have this for your birthday.”

Sera blinked, sitting up a little straighter. “You didn’t have to…”

“I wanted to.”

Judy set the box down in front of her and gave a soft nod. “Go ahead. Open it.”

Sera peeled the flaps back slowly, careful even though the box was old and already softened from years of storage.

Inside was something older still. A vintage instant camera, matte black with fading silver trim and a worn leather strap looped neatly around it. She lifted it gently, as if it might crumble from being touched too hard. Her breath caught the moment she recognized it.

“Mama… is this your camera?”

Judy smiled, soft and full of memories. “The one. Every important photo I’ve ever taken I used that. Laguna Bend, your Mom and me at the lake, your slightly rebellious stage at 16…”

Sera laughed, eyes already glassy. “Are you sure?”

“I’m sure. Take it with you. Capture the road. The good days. The quiet ones. Then bring them back to us when you’re home again.”

Sera swallowed hard, nodding.

“I will. I swear.”

She turned the camera in her hands, thumb brushing the old trigger. Then looked around the room the table, the sunlight across the counter, the way Valerie had her hand resting against Judy’s lower back, how Panam and Vicky leaned into each other, Sandra watching her with that unshakable smile.

“Let’s start now,” Sera said, lifting the camera. “While the six of us are still here.”

The next few minutes became a collage of chaos and love.

Chairs scraped back. Valerie insisted they needed better light and flung open the curtains while Judy scoffed and tried to fix everyone’s hair. Panam grabbed the hot sauce bottle like it was a prop weapon and held it over Vicky’s head, who just muttered “Try it and die.”

Sera took the first shot, a candid shot of Sandra laughing with an action pose, head tilted back in delight.

The second was staged: all six of them shoulder to shoulder in front of the big window, Sandra in Sera’s lap, Valerie with her arm around Judy, Panam sticking her tongue out at the camera just as it flashed.

Another of Judy and Valerie alone, heads leaned together, foreheads touching. One of Panam stealing a kiss from Vicky before she could protest.

Polaroids spilled from the side slot, slow to develop in that satisfying old-world way. Sera waved each one in the air like magic.

They laid them out on the table after, laughing as the faces came into focus blurred edges, awkward framing, but pure life in every image.

“We’re gonna need more film,” Sera said, brushing a strand of hair behind Sandra’s ear.

“We’ll send care packages,” Judy replied, grinning.

“With snacks,” Valerie added.

“And grenades,” said Panam.

“Obviously,” Vicky deadpanned.

They laughed until their cheeks hurt. Until it felt like maybe, just maybe, nothing could go wrong, and for now, nothing did.

The last photo was still developing on the table, its edges curling slightly in the morning sun. Everyone had settled back into their seats, the earlier energy mellowing into something quieter and sweeter. The coffee cups had cooled a little.

Sera sat curled against Sandra on the couch, the old camera still looped around her wrist. One of the photos, the one of her and Sandra mid-laugh was clutched between her fingers like a keepsake too precious to tuck away just yet.

Across from them, Valerie and Judy were nestled together in the big armchair by the window. Judy had kicked off her boots and tucked her feet beneath her, her head resting on Valerie’s shoulder as they shared the last few sips of their coffee. Valerie was softly playing with a strand of Judy’s hair, absentminded and content.

Panam and Vicky had taken the floor, backs against the couch, knees stretched out and ankles crossed. Vicky had pulled a hair tie from her wrist and was redoing Panam’s braid while Panam muttered about “traitorous hands” and “you’re pulling on purpose,” even as she leaned back into it like she secretly loved the attention.

The quiet was good. Comfortable. No one rushed to fill it.

Judy finally broke it with a soft voice, like she was speaking more to the room than anyone specific.

“Feels like... the kind of morning we used to dream about.”

Valerie nodded without looking up. “Yeah. Just… peace. After everything.”

Sandra smiled and kissed the side of Sera’s head. “It’s always been worth fighting for.”

Sera hummed in agreement, then turned slightly to face Judy. “We’re not gone for long.”

Judy smiled back, eyes warm. “I know.”

“And I’ll keep sending photos. Updates. Weird roadside snacks we try.”

“You better.” Valerie grinned. “I need to live vicariously through your chaos.”

“You’re the one who built my chaos, Mama.”

That got a round of quiet laughter. The kind that lives deep in the chest and doesn’t need to be loud to be real.

Judy reached out across the low table and gave Sera’s hand a light squeeze.

“I love you, mi cielo.”

“Love you too, Mama.”

The sun had climbed a little higher, painting the house in a golden wash by the time Sera and Sandra stepped into their bedroom to pack. The door clicked softly shut behind them, muffling the sounds of the others still gathered in the kitchen. It gave them just a moment one last breath of stillness before the road called again.

Sandra folded a pair of black jeans and slid them into Sera’s duffel. “Think you packed enough ammo?”

Sera smirked, zipping the outer case of the Laguna Belle’s custom shell kit. “If I didn’t, we’re not going far enough.”

They moved in sync, practiced in the dance of preparation. Tactical vests rolled tight, medkits checked, jackets folded then pulled on again. The weight of their gear didn’t seem heavy anymore, not when they carried it together.

Sandra adjusted the holster on Sera’s jacket and brushed a bit of lint off her shoulder.

“Ready, Firebird?”

Sera pulled Sandra in for a soft kiss.

“Only if you’re with me, babe.”

When they stepped out into the living room again, the house was quieter like it knew the moment was shifting. Judy was waiting near the door, Valerie beside her. Panam and Vicky had already brought the gear bags out to the rig, giving them space for goodbyes.

Sera paused, glancing around one last time. The scent of breakfast still lingered. The polaroids from earlier now hung by magnets on the fridge, drying in crooked little lines.

Judy opened her arms without a word. Sera crossed the space in two steps and folded into her embrace, holding tight.

“Drive safe,” Judy murmured into her hair. “And come home when you can.”

“I will. I promise.”

Valerie pulled Sandra into a hug next, clapping her back with affection only just hiding how much she’d miss them.

“Keep her in one piece,” she whispered, teasing, but her voice caught just a little at the end.

“Always,” Sandra said, squeezing tighter. “She’s half my heart.”

They traded hugs, quiet affirmations, soft words too sacred for quotes.

Judy placed a kiss to Sera’s temple, one last time.

“Every photo you take it’s another heartbeat closer to home.”

Sera nodded, her eyes a little glassy. “I’ll make sure to show you.”

With that, they turned toward the door, walking out side by side, the soft thud of boots against the wooden steps echoing behind them.

The rig sat in the driveway, engine already prepped. Panam gave them a salute as they climbed in, Vicky tossing Sera a fresh bag of snacks with a wink.

As the engine kicked to life and the gravel crunched beneath the tires, Sera looked once in the rearview.

The house stood quiet again, sun gleaming off the window where her family watched from outside. No words needed. Just the road ahead, and the love that waited at the end of every journey.

The road stretched out ahead, sun glazing the gravel in liquid gold. The hum of the engine was steady, the cabin warm with the soft quiet that followed a heartfelt goodbye. Sera’s hand rested on the wheel, her other arm draped casually over the doorframe, elbow in the breeze.

Sandra kicked her boots up on the dash, leaning back in her seat with her fingers laced behind her head.

Sera flipped the radio dial until the static cut clean, locking onto 92.1 Dust and Vinyl. The station’s signature hum rolled out, all analog warmth and soul-weathered tones. A brief crackle, then…

“…and that was ‘Ashes Rise '. You've heard it, you’ve loved it, you’ve probably belted it at 2 a.m. in your rig. But up next, from the same fire-hearted album Love Through Loss, here’s the title track. A live cut from the Wildest Dreams performance yesterday.”

The soft opening chords spilled into the rig. That familiar silver-bodied guitar, bright with soul and burnished steel, echoed under the crackle of the live recording. Then Valerie’s voice low, sultry, and wrapped in emotion filled the space like a rising tide.

“Guess there’s no escaping our moms,” Sera muttered, smirking.

Sandra barked a laugh. “What did you expect? When your moms are walking legends, they tend to end up on the radio.”

They both smiled and let the song settle around them. The chorus swelled with that old soul-rock fire Valerie always carried, her voice bending around the words like it still hurt to sing them.

Sera didn’t say much after that. Neither did Sandra.

Not until a few miles later, when the horizon rolled low and open, and the last notes of the song hung like dust in the air.

Sandra turned her head, voice soft, teasing. “You ever gonna sing to me like that?”

Sera raised an eyebrow without looking over. “Probably be divorced immediately after.”

Sandra burst out laughing, doubling over against her seatbelt. “That bad, huh?”

Sera grinned, flicking on the turn signal for no reason at all. “Think ‘off-key’ is too generous.”

Sandra shook her head and reached over, lacing her fingers with Sera’s on the console.

“That’s okay. You’ve got your own talents.”

“Yeah?” Sera said, squeezing her hand.

“You’re brave. You’re loyal. You make the best damn coffee on three hours’ sleep. And you look real hot with your hand on a shotgun.”

Sera chuckled. “So basically, I’m your fantasy merc wife.”

Sandra leaned against her shoulder with a content hum. “Exactly.”

The miles rolled on, the road empty but full of promise. A little ways ahead, Sera slowed at the crest of a bluff, pulling off to the side.

They stepped out into the crisp air, boots crunching on dry dirt. The view spilled out below them rolling canyons, sun-dappled trees, a river like a ribbon of glass slicing the valley.

Sandra raised the vintage camera, aimed, and clicked.

Sera stood beside her, watching the polaroid develop between Sandra’s fingers.

“This one’s going in the fridge when we get back,” Sandra said.

Sera smirked.“Only if we don’t blow it up first.”

Sandra laughed. “Try not to.”

They shared a soft kiss, wind rustling their jackets, then climbed back into the rig.

Highland Junction began to rise on the horizon scrap-metal gates, watchtowers, and scattered tents marking the town’s merc compound. A job waited. Another chapter, but for now, the road was still theirs.

The dirt and gravel of Highland Junction kicked up in little puffs as Sera and Sandra rolled through the front checkpoint, met by a few casual salutes and familiar nods. The settlement wasn’t big yet with no towering spires or chrome-studded alleys, but it buzzed with purpose. Corrugated steel buildings lined the main strip, built into old trailers and retrofitted rigs. Smoke curled from a blackened grill near the communal mess, and a couple of nomad kids sprinted past with scrap-metal helmets and toy pistols, shouting, “Secure the flank!”

Sera parked outside the command garage, its façade covered in welding scars and mounted skulls half for show, half warning. A flag bearing the phoenix of Clan Alvarez rippled above the door, the stitching still fresh, but already weathered by sun and grit.

Killjoy was outside, sleeves rolled to his elbows, cyberarm flicking a blowtorch closed as he stepped away from a half-repaired hauler. Tall and lean, he wore a faded Alvarez jacket, the colors muted but still proud, and his mohawk caught the sun like a blade.

He grinned when he saw them. “Well, shit. If it ain’t the Merc queen and her badass bride.”

Sera laughed, climbing out of the rig. “We heard you were still kicking.”

“Still kicking, still cussing, and still putting fires out with my teeth.” He walked over and pulled them both into quick, rough hugs. “Damn good to see you girls.”

Sandra gestured to the settlement behind him. “Place is looking good.”

“Getting there,” Killjoy said, wiping his hands on a rag. “Still patching pipes and tracking food stores, but we’ve got a water recycler running, and the clinic finally has real beds.”

He nodded toward the community square, where crates were being loaded onto two heavy-duty rigs. “That’s why you’re here. Convoy to Dust Bones Canyon leaves at first light. We’ve been trading clean water and repair kits for fuel and med supplies. Trouble is Shiv territory cuts right through the valley.”

Sera nodded, gaze narrowing. “And the Raffen still throwing tantrums?”

“Worse,” Killjoy muttered. “They’ve split into three splinter packs. One of ’em’s been hitting supply trails, another got a hold of an old drone jammer, and the third? Well, they just enjoy pain.”

Sandra crossed her arms. “Standard escort?”

“Standard… plus a little mercy if it comes to that.” Killjoy met her eyes. “We need the supplies. We need the route to be secure. If this link holds, Highland Junction’s gonna stand a chance.”

Sera glanced at the rigs. “Drivers ready?”

“Yeah. We’ve got three drivers, one tech on repair duty, and a couple guards with shaky hands. You two are the sharp edge.”

Sera smirked. “Then we’ll make sure the blade cuts clean.”

Killjoy clapped her shoulder. “Damn right you will.”

He handed Sandra a holo-shard. “Route’s on there. Rest up, grab what you need from the armory. You leave at dawn.”

They nodded and turned toward the longhouse-style bunkhouse. Behind them, the settlement kept moving quietly, efficiently, like a heart learning its own rhythm. Highland Junction wasn’t Klamath Falls at least not yet, but it was home to someone now.

Tomorrow, it would be theirs to protect.

The sun dipped low over Highland Junction, casting the rigs in long gold streaks as dust rose in lazy spirals from the open lot. The heavy silhouette of their rig Screwbie sat like a loyal beast under the glow of worklamps. Its armored frame was scarred but proud, two mounted miniguns glinting as Sera crouched beside one, wrench in hand and sleeves rolled to her elbows.

She rotated the chamber slowly, fingers brushing the belt feed. “You ever jam on me again, I swear I’m putting in that AI therapy chip Mama keeps teasing about.”

A low chirrup echoed through the rig’s dashboard console. Screwbie’s synthetic voice buzzed through the comm panel with familiar sass.

“Threats logged. You know I’m the most stable one in this relationship.”

Sandra smirked as she leaned against the frame, diagnostic tablet in hand. “AI sarcasm levels: optimal.”

Sera ducked back into the cab, plugging the shard into the onboard core. Lines of code flickered across the screen as the boot sequence ran smooth heartbeat scan, threat tracking, active shielding, turret rotation test. All clean.

“Screwbie?” Sera asked, brow raised.

“Combat readiness: 100%. Mood: petulant.”

“Perfect,” Sandra said, slapping the side of the rig. “Then you can babysit us through Shiv territory and not whine about it.”

Screwbie's voice cracked through. “No promises.”

They closed the bay panels and gave everything one last sweep, tightening bolts, checking tire pressure, and manually spinning the barrels of both guns until the clicks felt clean and cold. Sera wiped grease from her hands and nodded.

“Locked and loaded.”

By the time they reached the barracks, the light had faded to soft indigo. The Highland Junction longhouse wasn’t much just a prefab steel structure with six bunks, an old stove, and a dented sink that wheezed when it ran hot. It was quiet, and safe.

Sandra dropped their bags beside the bed they’d claimed and toed off her boots. Sera was already on the mattress, scrolling through her holophone.

She tapped out a quick message.

[To: Mama]
Made it to Highland safe. The convoy leaves at dawn. Love you.

Sandra flopped down beside her and sent one off herself.

[To: Mom]
We’re good. Rig’s prepped. Will update post-mission.

Sera glanced over, eyes already half-lidded from the long day. “You tell her I didn’t break anything?”

Sandra grinned. “Nah, figured we’d save that for the after-report.”

They laid back, no need for more words. Just soft breathing, limbs tangled naturally, warmth shared beneath the old wool blanket. Somewhere outside, the wind whispered across the open land, carrying the weight of everything they’d fought to protect.

They had each other. The mission could wait until morning.

The room dimmed as the solar lamps flickered into night mode, casting a low amber glow across the bunk. The other beds in the barracks remained empty tonight most of Highland’s crew either out on patrol or tucked in homes nearby. It left Sera and Sandra alone with the hush of walls that didn’t judge, that asked for nothing but rest.

Sera rolled onto her side, cheek pressed into Sandra’s shoulder. “Think Screwbie really likes us or just pretends because we buff his sensors?”

Sandra let out a soft laugh, fingers trailing slowly through the loose strands of Sera’s hair. “I think he’s secretly very fond of us and trying hard not to show it. Like someone I know.”

Sera cracked one eye open. “Oh yeah?”

“You, Firebird.”

Sera grinned, nose brushing the hollow of Sandra’s throat. “I’m an open book. A smoldering, gorgeous book.”

Sandra kissed her forehead. “With dog-eared pages and snack crumbs in the margins.”

“Details,” Sera murmured, half-asleep now. “You love this mess.”

“I do,” Sandra whispered. “Every bit of you.”

There was a long silence then soft, but not empty. Just the sound of wind dusting over the outer wall. A faint hum from a solar converter. The rustle of Sera adjusting, her breath warming Sandra’s collarbone.

Sera finally spoke, her voice low.

“You think Mama knew I needed the camera? Like… really knew?”

Sandra’s hand slowed in her hair. “She always knows.”

Sera let that sit for a while, eyes focused on the far wall.

“I don’t take enough pictures. I always think we’ll get a better moment. But sometimes I look at you, and I think this is it. Right now.”

Sandra held her tighter. “Then take the picture. Even if it’s just in your head.”

Sera’s lips curved in a sleepy smile. “Already did.”

They fell quiet again, the kind of quiet that only belongs to people who trust each other completely, and when the desert night deepened and the air turned crisp around the edges, they didn’t stir, just stayed together, folded into the quiet warmth of something rare and earned.

Outside, Highland Junction slept.

Inside, love kept its quiet watch.

Morning crept in slowly, filtered through cracked blinds and the distant rumble of a cargo hauler warming up near the edge of camp. Sera moved with practiced ease, tugging on her boots before reaching for the worn towel draped over their gear locker. She wiped a thin layer of grit from the matte-black body of Laguna Belle, her fingers pausing at the faint etching along the grip of the lotus flowers, faded now, but still sharp enough to cut nostalgia clean.

She checked the breech, reloaded the chamber, and gave the shotgun a short pump smooth, responsive. The holster pocket stitched onto her denim Clan Alvarez jacket groaned as she slipped the shotgun into place over her back, the weight falling into that familiar place between purpose and memory.

Next came Mother’s Pride, her sidearm. The weapon’s frame shimmered slightly in the morning light white-and-rose plating customized with a reinforced slide and high-impact rounds. She flipped it open, spun the chamber, and slotted a fresh power cell. The holster clicked as it latched to her right hip.

Sera pulled the recon shard from the nightstand and slotted it into her neural slot. A faint hum followed by a flicker of red-orange light streamed across her optic HUD.

Highland Junction → Dust Bones Canyon
Route active. Escort status: Primary Vanguard
Threat zones: 3
Weather: dry, low visibility

Across the room, Sandra crouched beside their gear case, locking the twin pistols into her leg holsters. The twin matte-purple pistols sleek with honeycomb grips and violet thermal nodes had become her signature.

She grinned as she clipped them in place. “Locked and loaded, Lefty and Righty.”

Sera arched a brow. “We really naming your pistols like that?”

Sandra held up both weapons, spun them expertly, and holstered in one fluid motion. “Fine. How about Wink and Whisper?”

Sera snorted. “What, are we seducing our enemies to death?”

Sandra grinned. “If the boots fit.”

She loaded two frag grenades into her sidebelt with a satisfying clack. “Alright, let’s go wrangle some nomads.”

They stepped out into the morning sun, dust rising in streaks across the camp as drivers gathered near the rigs. The convoy, a mix of armored transports, supply trucks, and an old medic hauler lined up along the main strip like a spine ready to be tested.

Sera approached the lead vehicle, their rig, and gave its side panel a loving thump.

“Screwbie, you alive in there?”

The engine growled awake, and a sharp, sarcastic voice buzzed through the external speaker.

“I was enjoying my beauty sleep, but sure let’s go get shot at. Again.”

Sandra rolled her eyes. “You know, one day we’re replacing your attitude chip with a playlist of sea shanties.”

“Do that and I’m locking the air conditioning to sweatbox mode.”

Sera climbed into the cab, a grin playing on her lips. “Bring it, you tin can.”

One by one, the other drivers gave the signal: engines alive, weapons loaded, ready.

Sera gave a nod to the lead scout.

“Convoy, move out.”

The engines rumbled to life, and the convoy began to roll.

Dust kicked up behind them, sun rising at their backs.

The road ahead wound through jagged hills and hostile territory, but for now, with her shotgun holstered tight and her wife watching the flanks, Sera Alvarez felt ready.

The rig purred beneath them, a low constant hum like a dragon coiled at ease. The morning sun had already begun its slow climb overhead, warming the cracked windshield as the convoy rolled down the high desert stretch. Dust streamed behind the column of vehicles, thin plumes trailing like smoke signals across the wasteland.

Sera drove one hand on the wheel, elbow resting on the door, the other tapping a light rhythm against the dashboard in time with the road. Sandra sat sideways in the passenger seat, one boot kicked up, a field map flickering on her wrist display. The first leg had been clean so far, no movement on the scanners, no ambush pings, just silence, heat and space.

Sera cast her a side glance. “Still not really feeling Wink and Whisper, by the way.”

Sandra arched a brow. “No? I thought it had a certain femme fatale charm.”

Sera grinned. “It sounds like you named them during a bubble bath.”

Sandra huffed and leaned her head against the seat. “Okay, Firebird. You got something better?”

“Echo,” Sera said, eyes still on the horizon. “And Ember. Feels more like you. Quiet ‘til you hit, and then unforgettable.”

Sandra paused, then gave a slow nod. “Not bad.”

Then came the snarky voice through the dash:

“How about Halo and Thorn? You know, because she looks like an angel but keeps trying to kick people in the throat.”

Sera snorted. “You really do remember Vicky calling her that back in Dust Town.”

“Tattooed it into my system memory. It was a cultural moment.”

Sandra rolled her eyes. “Keep talking, and I’m wiring your nav system to reroute through every pothole in the canyon.”

“Please. This suspension’s already crying.”

Sera chuckled, her tone softer now as the wheels rumbled over loose gravel. “You know... Ember and Echo has a good ring. One burns, the other lingers.”

Sandra gave her a sidelong smile. “Yeah… that’s us, isn’t it?”

For a moment, they just let the silence hold broken only by the whisper of wind against the cab and the occasional comms check from the drivers behind. The desert opened wide before them, a sea of ochre and bone, cut by the lonely road they led.

Sera reached over, brushing her fingers along Sandra’s thigh, gentle. “Whichever names you choose. They're lucky weapons.”

Sandra leaned over, kissed the side of her head, and whispered, “Not as lucky as me.”

Sandra reached out and gave Sera’s arm a firm squeeze, eyes locked on hers.

“Ember and Echo,” she said, voice steady. “Feels right.”

Sera smiled, not just at the name, but at the certainty behind it. “Perfect. One to burn, one to remind ‘em.”

Sandra leaned in, resting her forehead briefly against Sera’s temple. “Let’s just make sure they don’t forget us, huh?”

Before Sera could respond, the rig’s console flared orange and Screwbie’s voice came sharp, cutting through the cab like a blade.

“Dust-riddled pieces of shit detected. Three clicks east. Five cars. Occupant count: unknown. They're moving fast.”

Sera’s eyes narrowed as her optics lit up with route telemetry and combat projections. “Visual?”

“No eyes yet. Sand’s thick. But they’re aiming to intercept.”

Sandra sat up straight, already reaching for her pistols.

Sera’s fingers wrapped tighter around the wheel. “Looks like Echo and Ember are about to make their debut.”

Sandra cracked a grin as she chambered both weapons. “They’ve been waiting.”

Screwbie let out a simulated sigh.

“And here I was hoping we’d make it to lunch without a full-blown road war.”

Sera flicked on the comms. “Convoy, tighten formation. We’ve got company incoming three clicks, eastern ridge. Eyes sharp. Weapons hot.”

Outside the rig, the hum of engines thickened, the quiet rhythm of the desert replaced by the building war-drum beat of machines preparing for chaos.

Ahead, the road stretched on.

To the east, dust began to rise.

Gravel crunched beneath Sera’s boots as she and Sandra moved fast and low, slipping from the rig’s cabin and into the rocky spill to the right of the convoy. Heat shimmered across the horizon, but the real fire was rising inside their blood. They knew this terrain the jagged outcroppings, the bleached ridges, the silent threats hiding behind the sun glare.

Sera ducked beneath a low ledge, pulled up her optic, and scanned the ridgeline. “Screwbie, initiate auto-nav. Defense mode. You’ve got the wheel.”

“Confirmed. Moving to intercept. Target lock enabled. Spinning up love taps.”

Behind them, the rig roared to life wheels grinding against loose stone as the autopilot kicked in. Twin miniguns mounted to the frame began spinning with a mechanical growl, already hungry for targets.

Sandra crouched a few meters up the slope, back to the stone, Echo in her right hand, Ember in her left. Her eyes swept the jagged horizon with precision, scanning heat signatures and elevation lines. Her voice dropped low, steady and calm.

“They don’t ask questions. Raffen Shiv never do. They only take.”

Sera’s jaw clenched as she slotted another shell into Laguna Belle. “Yeah, and after what they did to us when we were kids…”

She snapped the barrel shut and gave Sandra a nod. “The only good Shiv is a dead one.”

Another vehicle from the convoy pulled into lead formation, kicking up dust as it repositioned to maintain shield cover for the traders behind. A voice cracked across the comms, thick with static but strong.

“Counting on you. Don’t let them punch through.”

Sera keyed her mic without hesitation. “Don’t worry. We’ll rendezvous shortly.”

The reply came fast, quiet, but full of fire.

“Roger. Stay safe, and remember we always rise.”

A slow grin pulled at the corner of Sera’s mouth. She keyed the combat overlay through her optics, and triggered the next command.

“Screwbie, move to intercept. Weapons hot.”

“With pleasure. Let’s dance, dirtbags.”

From behind them, the unmistakable thunder of miniguns filled the air as the rig peeled away toward the encroaching threat kicking up a sandstorm of vengeance.

Sera looked to Sandra, her partner, her wife, her blade in the dark, and nodded.

They slipped into the rocks like ghosts, ready to strike. Just ahead, engines howled and dust surged as the Shiv pack approached fast and blind.

The trap was set, and Clan Alvarez was ready to spring it.

The wind shifted with a dry gust, pulling the edge of Sera’s jacket just as the first Shiv vehicle broke through the haze sleek in a scavenged kind of way, armored with mismatched plates and stitched-up desperation. Four more rolled behind it, their dust plumes clawing skyward like smoke from a dying fire.

Sera knelt low, bracing Laguna Belle against her shoulder, the weight of the shotgun grounding her. She let her breath slow. Not yet.

Sandra, crouched on a ridge five meters above, waited with one pistol raised Echo glowing faint blue, already charging, while Ember flickered with a red-orange pulse in her other hand. She didn’t speak, just caught Sera’s eye across the space between them and gave a subtle nod.

“Incoming hostiles are now in the strike zone. Five cars confirmed. Opening fire.”

Screwbie’s voice crackled in their comms as the rig let loose both mini-guns roaring to life with the churning, delicious growl of metal shredding air. Tracer rounds sliced the sky, tearing across the lead Shiv vehicle and punching holes straight through its rust-welded armor.

The vehicle careened sideways, tires blown out, sparks screeching against rock as it flipped twice and detonated in a thunderous fireball.

“NOW!” Sera barked, and Laguna Belle boomed.

The recoil slammed back into her shoulder like a freight train, but the Shiv gunner charging her position didn't have time to feel much of anything. The slug caught him square in the chest, launching him backward like a ragdoll.

Sandra dropped from her ledge mid-fire, dual pistols barking. Ember lit up a raider’s coat in ribbons of flame, forcing the bastard to roll screaming across the sand. Echo snapped out next, a clean shot to a Shiv’s leg electricity lancing up his spine as he seized mid-sprint and collapsed twitching.

Sera chambered her next shot, eyes cutting across the battlefield. “Sandra left side truck trying to flank!”

“On it!” Sandra pivoted, firing Echo to stun the driver, then Ember straight through the windshield. A burst of flame and shattered glass followed as the Shiv vehicle crashed into a rock wall and exploded.

More gunfire as the sand kicked up. A Shiv leapt from the back of a truck rebar axe raised, and charged straight at Sera.

She didn’t flinch.

Laguna Belle clicked empty.

She drew Mother’s Pride in one fluid motion and fired twice center mass.

The Shiv staggered, stumbled, and Sera stepped forward, slamming the butt of her shotgun into his temple to finish it.

“Four down!” Sera called.

“Last one’s circling behind Screwbie!” Sandra shouted.

“Thanks for the update, gun show. Already working on it.”

The rig swerved on its own, rear turret spinning like a mechanical beast tasting blood. The last Shiv car opened fire with a makeshift cannon too slow. Too loud.

Screwbie’s guns roared.

The Shiv’s engine burst into flames. It didn’t even get the chance to scream.

Silence fell again, except for the soft clinking of cooling metal.

Sera exhaled through her teeth, smoke curling off the barrel of Mother’s Pride.

Sandra jogged over, cheeks flushed with adrenaline. “That all of ‘em?”

Screwbie chimed in, smug. “Affirmative. Congratulations. You are still alive.”

Sera looked at Sandra dust in her hair, eyes bright, hands steady.

“We make a good team,” she said, voice low.

Sandra grinned and bumped her shoulder. “Told you Echo and Ember were ready.”

Sera smirked. “They didn’t disappoint.”

Behind them, the convoy began rolling forward again, engines grumbling with new resolve. The road was clear for now.

The dust hadn’t even settled when Sera pressed two fingers to the side of her head, keying into her comms. “Screwbie, roll in. Pick-up point zero-six. We’ll rendezvous on approach.”

“Acknowledged. Guns still warm, wheels turning. Try not to bleed on the seats.”

Sandra chuckled under her breath as they jogged through the sand, boots crunching over shell casings and scorch marks. Sera reached the rig first, pulling herself up the side and offering Sandra a hand. As soon as the door shut behind them, she locked in her neural slot.

“Keep scanning,” she said to the console, voice sharp now. “That was the scouting party. You know what that means.”

“It means you’re about to ruin someone’s ambush. Again.”

Screwbie’s wheels growled as he surged into motion, positioning back toward the lead of the convoy. Sandra tapped her comm next.

“How’s it looking on your end?”

A familiar voice came through the static driver from the third truck. “So far? Clear horizons.”

“Copy. Stay ready,” Sandra said, glancing toward Sera with a knowing look.

Just as the convoy began threading back into motion, Screwbie’s tone shifted.

“Update. Unfriendlies. Ten klicks. Eastbound ridge. Pattern suggests flank maneuver. Multiple heat signatures, no ID tags.”

Sera leaned forward, hand gripping the edge of the dash. “How many?”

“Hard to say. Readings keep ghosting. Five... maybe more. Some modded. Definitely not locals.”

Sandra was already checking her mags. “We keep pushing?”

Sera’s eyes narrowed as she stared into the ridgeline on the horizon.

“We don’t stop,” she said, voice low and steady. “If this is their play, we take it on our terms.”

Screwbie revved, answering before they had to ask.

“Route recalculated. Let’s give ‘em a welcome they won’t forget.”

The second storm was brewing. And this time, it wasn’t just a test it was a gauntlet.

The rig cut through the open flats, dust curling in low spirals around its frame as the sun burned hot over Highland’s stretch of nowhere. But Sera wasn’t watching the road anymore; her eyes were locked on the flickering data scrolling across her optics, fingers dancing across the interface embedded in Screwbie’s dash.

The readings didn’t sit right.

Heat signatures too spaced out. Movement too restrained. No erratic rush or feral sprinting like the usual Shiv smash-and-grab. They were positioned. Waiting.

She exhaled through her nose. “They’re not coming for us.”

Sandra turned from the passenger side, checking her sights. “What?”

Sera’s voice dropped. “They’re expecting us to spring the ambush first.”

She ran another sweep, quick-diagnostic on Screwbie’s twin mini-guns mounted along the side frame. Barrel spin rate optimal. Turret response latency under 0.8 seconds. Ammunition fully loaded.

“Guns are green,” Screwbie confirmed coolly. “But I don’t like this. These scumbags are quiet. Shiv packs don’t do quiet.”

“No, they don’t,” Sera murmured, leaning back into the seat. She called up a top-down overlay of the ridge route. The eastbound markers looked like teeth in a half-buried jaw. Flank lines… too symmetrical.

“They want us to bite,” she said. “To engage and get pulled in. Once we commit, they’ll close on the rear of the convoy.”

Sandra's gaze sharpened. “Cut off our support. Force a split.”

“Exactly,” Sera replied. She chewed her lip, thinking. “We need to drag them out. Make them think we’re falling for it.”

She keyed into the comms. “Screwbie, reroute our path two klicks south low enough to look like we’re moving to flank. Keep comms passive, and stay hot.”

“So we’re playing bait.”

“We’re not playing,” Sera said. “We’re hunting.”

Sandra clicked Ember into her thigh holster, the soft hiss of the magnetic seal latching in. “Let’s draw the bastards in.”

Screwbie veered off-road, tires biting into the packed dirt as the rig peeled away from the convoy’s direct line. On the ridge ahead, small shapes shifted shadowed figures watching, waiting.

“Movement uptick on the ridge,” Screwbie noted. “Think they noticed?”

“Good,” Sera whispered, eyes narrowing. “Let ‘em think we’re walking straight into it.”

Beneath the hum of tension, the soundtrack of war hadn’t started yet, but Sera could already feel the rhythm building.

She was ready to conduct the storm.

Sera leaned forward, her voice calm but coiled with purpose. “Screwbie, lead them to us. Make it loud.”

“Loud I can do.”

The rig peeled off, tires tearing into the dirt, engine screaming through the flatlands like a war cry. Sera and Sandra stepped out as the vehicle disappeared into the rising haze. The world went quiet again just the wind and the hard sun and the distant echo of engine noise.

Sera moved to Sandra’s side, eyes locked on the ridge ahead, the way it breathed with tension. “They’ll chase. They want a kill.”

Sandra flexed her grip on Echo, breath steady. “Let’s make sure they don’t get one.”

Moments later, the howl of engines shattered the stillness Screwbie came barreling back across the plain with a trail of Shiv outriders hot on his six. One of them broke formation, skidding left in a reckless charge straight for them.

Sandra rolled right with practiced precision, boots kicking dust as she spun into cover.

Sera’s boots hit the earth once then launched skyward.

Her boosted tendons hissed, pushing her into a perfect arc over the oncoming vehicle. Time slowed. The wind screamed past her ears. The Shiv driver looked up just in time to see a shadow land on his trunk.

Sera didn’t hesitate.

Belle was out in a fluid draw one arm braced, the other steady. She fired two clean shots through the rear window, and the occupants jerked forward, lifeless. She leapt off the trunk before the car could flip and crash, landing in a low roll.

Behind her, Screwbie screamed past in a hard drift his tail end clipping another Shiv car as it surged forward. Sandra was already moving. She surged up from her roll, lined up the shot, and popped a slug through the windshield. Before the impact could even register, she lobbed a frag through the open glass and turned away from the blast.

The car erupted in fire behind her.

Screwbie swung around again, mini guns roaring as he intercepted a third vehicle trying to swing wide. His rounds cut through the Shiv car like paper, sending it spinning into a twisted heap of metal.

Sera’s comm lit up with a sharp ping. “Two vehicles tried to intercept the convoy. We took ’em out.”

A voice replied through static. “Great work frontline’s still moving.”

Sandra tapped her comm. “Any more dust-riddled pieces of shit lurking out there?”

Screwbie came back with his usual charming candor.

“Just one. Heavy artillery. I ain’t touching it. I like living.”

Sera’s brow furrowed as she reloaded Belle. “Then we better make it forget how to aim.”

Sandra smirked as she chambered another round into Ember. “Let’s go introduce ourselves.”

And with the war-drums of Screwbie’s engine still echoing through the flats, they turned toward the storm ahead together.

The air shifted.

No more games. No more feints. Just war.

Sera’s boots dug into the dirt as she swung Belle back into ready position, the metal of her shotgun still hot from the last kill. Sandra gave her a nod, Ember in her right hand, Echo in her left, both humming with charge. Somewhere behind them, Screwbie let out a long synthetic sigh.

“Y’all really gonna make me be bait again?”

Sera grinned. “You’re built for it, sweetheart.”

“I am also built for margaritas, but nobody ever asks me what I want.”

Sandra raised an eyebrow. “We’ll get you a bucket of oil after this. With a twist of lime.”

The ground began to tremble faint at first, then steady. The Shiv war rig crested the rise like a plated beast, wide-shouldered and angry. Reinforced grill, blast plating welded crooked to the front, spiked tires chewing into the terrain like it owed them blood. Turrets mounted along the sides. A front cannon big enough to gut a rig in one shot.

Screwbie bolted forward, drawing fire.

The first blast missed, carving a trench into the dry earth just meters from Sera’s feet.

She didn’t blink.

“Sandra left side. I’ll draw fire from the right.”

Sandra broke formation in a sprint, diving into a ravine to begin a flanking crawl.

Sera stormed forward.

The Shiv cannon zeroed in on her, and she juked hard right, sprinting toward a series of low rocks. Another shot rang out missed by inches. Pebbles tore past her face like razor hail.

Then she was close.

She dropped into a slide behind cover, drew a frag, and popped up long enough to chuck it into the vent slit just under the side armor. A muffled thud followed. One turret on the left side sparked out, smoke streaming.

Screwbie screamed past again, unleashing his mini-guns on the opposite side, tearing through the armor plating as sparks rained across the battlefield.

“Getting really tired of eating bullets today,” he muttered.

From the far ridge, Ember spat a stream of incendiary slugs each one kissing the war rig’s rear quarter, lighting fuel lines and shattering sensors. Then Echo followed, the electric rounds shorting out the secondary targeting system in a burst of furious blue.

Sera vaulted over the rocks, closed the distance, and slammed Belle point-blank into the rig’s side viewport.

“Smile, you Shiv motherfucker!”

Glass and blood erupted in heat.

She leapt off just before the rig jackknifed, flames crawling out from under its belly. It swerved, hit a ditch, and flipped once, twice, before settling in a burning heap.

Sera rolled onto her back, chest heaving. Sandra jogged over, sliding to her knees beside her.

“You okay?”

Sera coughed out a breath, then grinned. “That was... awesome!”

Sandra laughed and offered a hand. “Told you Ember and Echo would sing.”

“Confirmed kill,” Screwbie chimed in, limping his way through the smoke. “Reminder: I want a damn oil bath when this is over.”

Sera keyed the comms. “Convoy threat’s neutralized. Area secure.”

The voice came back instantly. “Copy that. You two just bought us another sunrise.”

Sandra helped her up, brushing soot from Sera’s cheek. “So… dinner in Dust Bones?”

Sera smirked, sliding Belle back into the jacket holster. “Only if you buy.”

Together, hand in hand, they stepped forward as the sun blazed overhead, the smoke trailing behind them like the ashes of old legends burning into the wind.

The rig’s doors slammed shut with the satisfying clunk of battle in the rearview. Dust and ash caked Sera’s shoulders, Sandra’s braid was half undone, and Screwbie let out a long, staticky groan as his wheels crunched over loose gravel.

“Thank the gods this is over,” Screwbie exhaled. “I’m down one stabilizer, three camera feeds, and my emotional support AI node is officially traumatized.”

Sera was already swiping through a diagnostic on her optic feed, frowning at the flickering readout. “You gonna make it to Dust Bones Canyon, or do I have to carry you there, you heap of bolts?”

“Wow,” Screwbie replied, voice pitched in mock offense. “Not like I saved your ass or anything back there. Let’s all forget the part where I Swiss-cheesed three enemy vehicles while you were doing pirouettes in mid-air.”

Sandra burst out laughing from the passenger seat. “He’s got a point, Firebird.”

“Finally!” Screwbie declared. “Someone who appreciates me. Sandra, you’re my favorite. Sera, you’ve been downgraded to... co-pilot.”

“I am the pilot,” Sera muttered, but the smile tugging at her lips betrayed her.

The windshield view unfolded into the sun-baked sprawl of Dust Bones Canyon. Adobe structures, solar arrays, and wandering cattle painted the town in slow-moving life. They passed by a scattering of signs welcoming trade convoys and Clan Alvarez patrols.

As they neared the settlement, a soft beep hit the comms message from the rear.

“Convoy reports safe arrival,” Sandra confirmed, reading the alert. “No casualties. One busted axle, but they made it.”

Sera let out a relieved breath. “Good.”

“Still think you’d be divorced if you sang to me?” Sandra teased.

Sera leaned back in her seat, hand brushing Sandra’s. “Absolutely. But you’d still follow me into a shootout.”

“Only every time.”

They rolled into the lot beside the Dust Bones café, its neon sign flickering softly in the setting sun. Sera parked the rig under the old overhang, and the engine whined low before quieting down.

“Finally,” Screwbie grumbled. “Give me shade. Maybe a hug. Preferably from someone who hasn’t yelled at me today.”

“We’ll leave the AC running for you,” Sandra quipped, already sliding out of her seat.

Inside the café, the air was cool, smelling of coffee grounds and frying oil. The old wood-paneled walls were covered in faded newspaper clippings and photos of Clan Alvarez milestones. A picture of Valerie with the Laguna Belle hung just above the register, signed in silver ink.

They settled into a booth by the window, Sera letting her shoulders relax for the first time all day. Sandra kicked Sera under the table, stretching out her legs.

“First round’s mine,” Sera said, already flagging down the server. “After that, we split the check.”

Sandra leaned her chin on her hand. “Deal. But you’re still getting dessert.”

“You just want a bite of mine.”

“Obviously.”

As dusk settled over the canyon, the two of them sat there battle-worn, dust-covered, and tired, but still grinning, hands laced under the table like it was the most natural thing in the world, and in their world, it was.

The warm glow of Dust Bones Canyon lingered as the stars began to prick the sky above quiet, vast, and endless. Inside the small café, Sera and Sandra sat side-by-side in the corner booth, the flicker of old neon lights bathing them in a soft rose-and-gold hue. Their food had come fast fried cactus patties, flash-seared meat skewers, and a basket of crispy corn fritters, and now, halfway through dessert, Sandra was stealing spoonfuls of Sera’s honey cream custard without remorse.

Sera narrowed her eyes. “That was my last bite.”

Sandra shrugged, licking the spoon. “You paused. That makes it public domain.”

“Oh, so that’s how marriage works.”

“Legally binding dessert theft,” Screwbie chimed from the booth’s audio relay, patched in via diner uplink. “That’s canon. Saw it in a BD doc once.”

Sera pointed her spoon at the speaker. “Nobody asked you.”

“I’m just here to keep the peace. Also, you both have condiments on your sleeves.”

They laughed together, the tension of the day bleeding away into warmth and comfort. For just a little while, it felt like home again home in the middle of nowhere, shared over cheap food and soft smiles.

Once the check was paid and goodbyes exchanged, Sera and Sandra made their way to the convoy station where the lead hauler, a broad-shouldered woman with mirrored lenses and a dusty Alvarez jacket, greeted them with a nod.

“You two ran a clean op,” she said, handing over a route update for the return trip. “We’ll follow your lead again. No chatter from Shiv bands since the skirmish. Guess you scared 'em quiet.”

Sera gave a short nod. “Let’s hope it stays that way.”

Sandra added with a soft grin, “And if not, we’ll be ready.”

The convoy rumbled to life just before midnight, the high beams of hauler trucks cutting pale ribbons across the sand. Screwbie rolled to the front like a faithful wolf, his lights pulsing in sync with Sera’s neural link.

The road home stretched long and winding through the valley. The stars shimmered bright above, casting silver-blue reflections on the ridgeline. Wind turbines turned slow in the distance like ancient guardians, their blades creaking in the breeze. The canyon walls glowed with the last kiss of moonlight, then faded to silhouettes against the sky.

Inside the rig, the air was a calm low hum of the engine, steady rhythm of tires, and the occasional pop of static from Screwbie’s speaker.

Sandra leaned her head back against the seat, fingers idly tracing circles on Sera’s thigh.

“You ever thought about how far we’ve come?” she asked softly.

Sera’s hands stayed steady on the wheel. “Every day. Used to think peace was a myth. Now we got each other, a house, breakfast in the mornings…”

“And me,” Screwbie added. “Don’t forget me.”

Sandra snorted. “We couldn’t forget you, Screechbucket.”

“That’s Screwbie. With a B. As in Better than most boyfriends.”

Sera laughed. “That’s true. He did save our asses today.”

“I’m framing that compliment.”

The road curved along a ridge, giving them a view of the lower valley lit faintly by lantern posts strung between outposts. It was beautiful in its own rugged way. Alive, guarded, and rebuilt.

Sandra’s voice softened again. “Thanks for always bringing me home.”

Sera glanced over at her, their eyes meeting in the dim dashlight. “Always.”

The convoy moved as one behind them, a caravan of hard-earned hope following two women who had survived war, loss, and the long road back to each other.

In the quiet between checkpoints, under the veil of the stars, they kept driving homebound.

The rig’s engine gave one last growl as it settled into place just outside the gates of Highland Junction, headlights sweeping over the fortified walls. The convoy trailed in behind them, slower now, but intact every last hauler accounted for. A few Alvarez scouts posted near the checkpoint gave waves and nods as the gate rolled back open.

It was nearly midnight.

The lead hauler pulled up beside the rig, her window already down, a tired smile on her face. “We’ll handle the offload. You two earned your rest.”

Sera gave a short nod. “Appreciate it. Keep a tight watch until everything’s squared away.”

“We’ve got it from here.” The woman raised a hand in farewell, and just like that, the burden was passed on.

Back at the barracks, the hallway light flickered overhead as the two made their way in, boots heavy on worn tile. Sera stepped aside at the charging port, crouching down to pull the uplink from her arm as she stared at Screwbie’s dormant form.

She leaned in close. “Power down. You’ve earned it too. And no sneaky reboots tonight.”

“But what if you need emotional support at 2 a.m.?”

“I’ll spoon Sandra. I don't need you.”

“Rude.”

Still, the AI’s lights blinked once then darkened, slipping into standby.

Sandra was already pulling off her jacket, stretching slow and languid as she headed toward the small cot they'd claimed. She flicked on the old radio by the bedside, tuning it until the soft crackle gave way to the opening of Between the Raindrops.

The melancholy guitar, Natasha’s voice like velvet paired with the rasped warmth of Jason Wade filled the room in a slow, calming wave.

Sera peeled off her armor piece by piece, careful not to disturb the quiet. She slid into bed behind Sandra, her arms wrapping instinctively around her wife’s waist, fingers spreading across her stomach like she was making sure she was really there.

Sandra leaned back into her, warm and sighing, voice low. “You always keep us safe.”

“You make it worth it.”

Outside the wind pressed soft against the barracks windows, brushing sand across the siding like whispers from the canyon beyond. The song played on a hymn for the road-worn and the lovers who still found each other between storms.

Sera’s eyes drifted shut, forehead resting against Sandra’s shoulder, their breathing syncing in slow waves. The world outside could wait.

For now, there was just this: the hum of the radio, the warmth of skin, the quiet victory of making it home again even if just for a night.

Chapter Text

The deck swing moved in a slow rhythm, just barely, as if the lake itself were rocking them. Afternoon sunlight draped across the wood, soft and warm, broken only by the shadows of tree branches swaying in the breeze.

Valerie and Judy sat close, wrapped in the same blanket, their legs tangled, their bodies long past the need to ask permission to touch. The hum of 92.1 Dust and Vinyl floated through the open door behind them, but neither of them really heard the music anymore.

Valerie’s thumb brushed back and forth across Judy’s hand, mindlessly, the motion tender and slow.

“You ever think about how we got here?” she asked, voice quiet like it didn’t want to startle the moment.

Judy tilted her head against Valerie’s shoulder. “Every damn day.”

Valerie turned slightly, her cheek brushing Judy’s hair. “I don’t mean just surviving it all. I mean this. A home. You and me. Waking up next to each other without wondering if the world is ending that day.”

Judy smiled, eyes half-lidded. “We didn’t get here by chance. We fought for this.”

“Yeah,” Valerie murmured. “But even fighting it could’ve gone a thousand different ways. All it took was one of us walking away at the wrong time. But we didn’t. You never left.”

Judy shifted, pulling the blanket tighter around them. “Neither did you.”

There was a pause, not from hesitation but reverence. The kind that only comes from years of shared silence.

“I used to think love was something reckless,” Valerie said after a while. “Big, explosive. Like chrome and bullets and screaming your name into the void.”

“And now?” Judy asked, though she already knew the answer.

Valerie turned her head, kissed her wife’s forehead.

“Now I know it’s this. It’s holding you on a porch swing while the world forgets we exist. It’s knowing that even if everything burned down again I’d still find you.”

Judy’s eyes shimmered as she smiled. “You’re such a sap.”

“Only for you,” Valerie whispered.

They sat there, cocooned in stillness. The lake stretched wide in front of them, the sky beginning to melt into gold.

Then, softly, as if the words had been waiting all day:

“There’s something I wrote for you,” Valerie said. “Never meant it for the world. Just us.”

Judy turned toward her, fingers curling a little tighter into Valerie’s. “Then let it stay just ours.”

Valerie rose from the deck swing in one slow breath, never letting go of Judy’s hand. The sun spilled golden light over the lake behind them, wind weaving through the trees like it knew something sacred was about to unfold.

Judy let herself be pulled up, her body folding easily into Valerie’s. No space between them. Just heart to heart, breath to breath.

Valerie’s voice came soft at first, like the hush before thunder. Her hand cupped Judy’s jaw, thumb brushing just below her lip as she sang the first line.

“Feels like I'm suffocating like I can't go on.”

Her other hand slid around Judy’s waist, pulling her even closer.

“When I look into your eyes.”

Valerie tilted Judy’s chin gently, meeting her gaze.

“I'm not afraid.”

Judy's breath caught. The afternoon light turned her eyes to ember.

“Wrapped inside your embrace, I know I can go on.”

Valerie’s voice trembled not from nerves, but from the weight of truth. She pressed her forehead to Judy’s, their sway becoming a slow, shared rhythm.

“When my spirit's breaking.”

She took Judy’s hand, placed it against her own chest.

“You are the one to pull me through.”

The warmth beneath her palm was steady, alive, and real.

“Never had a love feel this true.”

Valerie brushed a kiss to Judy’s cheek, her voice steady now, like a promise woven through time.

“Baby, how much more can I say.”

She pulled back just enough to see her again.

“I’ll always fight for you.”

Their fingers interlocked, the same way they had during so many fights. So many nights.

“Right by your side.”

They stepped in a slow circle, a dance of memory. The lake glimmered behind them like an old friend.

“Darling, don’t be afraid.”

Valerie’s lips grazed Judy’s temple.

“I love you more each day.”

She pulled her in tighter.

“In a lover's embrace we will stay.”

Judy’s voice whispered out as breathless harmony just for a moment as if her body couldn’t help but echo it.

“Tell me in another life.”

Valerie ran her fingers through Judy’s hair.

“You'll still find me.”

Judy’s brow pressed to her shoulder. Valerie cradled her there.

“Even if the stars don't align.”

They both looked upward. Just sky, not fate.

“With every breath, we’ll still go on.”

Valerie kissed the crown of her head.

“From every battle won.”

She rested her cheek there.

“Til the sun is fading.”

The light dipped lower behind them.

“Your light will always shine on.”

Judy closed her eyes, letting the words wrap around her like warmth in the cold.

“Darling, don’t be afraid...
I love you more each day...
In a lovers embrace we will stay.”

Valerie slowly turned Judy in her arms so they faced the lake. Her chin resting on Judy’s shoulder now, arms wrapped fully around her waist from behind.

“When the rain is falling.”

Her voice lowered.

“You're my shelter from the storm.”

Judy reached back, touching her hand over Valerie’s.

“We rode it out together...
Not knowing which day would be our last.”

Judy whispered, “But we always made it through.”

Valerie’s voice cracked slightly but held firm.

“From Night City streets...
To the Oregon mountain view.”

They both looked out across the water, and the silhouette of mountains just beyond it.

“We built our home just me, and you.”

Valerie pressed a slow kiss behind her ear.

“Stay with me now... forever and always.”

Judy turned, eyes glistening, and wrapped her arms around Valerie’s neck, forehead to forehead.

“Darling, don’t be afraid...
I love you more each day...
In a lovers embrace we will stay.”

Valerie’s voice softened to a whisper.

“In a lover's embrace we will stay.”

Wrapped in golden light, wrapped in each other, with no one watching but the trees, the lake, and the wind carrying the sound of a love too deep for any anthem, too sacred for any stage.

Judy didn’t speak right away.

She couldn’t.

The final note still lingered on Valerie’s lips, soft as dusk, fading into the stillness of the lake air. A hush had settled around them, thick with meaning, the kind of silence that didn’t need to be broken.

Valerie’s arms were still around her, holding her close. Judy’s fingers curled slightly into the fabric of her shirt, as if grounding herself. Her breath trembled as it left her lungs, but she didn’t pull away.

Instead, she leaned in.

The kiss started slow barely there, more breath than touch. But then it deepened, and Judy pulled her in tighter, her mouth parting against Valerie’s with a quiet desperation. It wasn’t hunger. It was something deeper. A need to feel every ounce of love Valerie had just poured into her. To return it, completely.

Their lips moved in sync, tender and raw. A kiss not of passion, but of devotion.

When they finally parted, their foreheads stayed together, eyes closed, breaths mingling.

“You really wrote that for me?” Judy’s voice was low, thick with emotion.

Valerie’s thumb brushed her cheek. “Every line.”

Judy opened her eyes, and Valerie lifted her chin with the gentlest touch, drawing their gazes together.

“When I look into your eyes,” Valerie whispered, “I’m not afraid.”

Judy blinked, her lashes damp. “God, Val…”

Valerie smiled softly, tucking a strand of green and pink hair behind Judy’s ear, then leaning in to kiss the spot just beneath her temple. “You pulled me through everything. You still do.”

Judy’s hands slid up Valerie’s sides, settling at her back. “I don’t even know how we got here sometimes. Just feels like we were always supposed to.”

They held each other tighter, the sun dipping lower behind the trees, casting a warm glow across the lake. The swing swayed gently beneath them. The rest of the world stayed still.

“I still get butterflies,” Judy whispered.

Valerie tilted her head. “Good.”

A small laugh escaped between them fragile, real.

Their lips met again, slower this time. Valerie cupped the side of Judy’s face, letting her thumb rest just beneath her eye, feeling the quiet shimmer of tears threatening to fall.

“I want to remember this version of you,” Judy said softly. “The one who doesn’t sing for the world just for me.”

Valerie pressed a kiss to her forehead, then down to her lips again. “You will. Every day.”

They didn’t move. Not for a while.

Just swayed gently in the swing, wrapped around each other, hearts laid open. No need for more words. No need for time to rush them forward.

This moment belonged to them completely, utterly theirs, and for once, the world felt quiet enough to let them just be.

Judy reached down and laced her fingers through Valerie’s, her grip warm and sure.

“Come on, mi amor,” she said, her voice low, still touched by the remnants of tears. “Let’s take a walk around the lake.”

Valerie didn’t answer with words. She simply gave Judy’s hand a gentle squeeze and rose beside her, their fingers staying locked like an unspoken promise. The swing rocked lightly behind them as they stepped off the deck, the wood creaking softly in farewell.

The lake stretched out before them, its surface brushed with gold as the sun sank deeper behind the pines. A hush lay over the world, broken only by the quiet crunch of their boots along the winding trail, the distant ripple of water against the shore, and the occasional chirp of late summer crickets waking up in the tall grass.

They didn’t talk right away. They didn’t need to. The silence between them was sacred filled with all the things that didn’t need to be said, because they were already known.

Valerie stole a glance at Judy, her profile glowing in the soft amber light. The kind of light that made her look untouchable like something pulled from a dream. Her short pink-and-green hair was caught in the breeze, swaying with every step. The soft curve of her smile was still there, faint but real.

“I used to dream about this,” Valerie murmured finally, her thumb brushing along Judy’s knuckles as they walked. “Not the fame. Not the escape. Just… this.”

Judy looked up at her, eyes gentle. “Just us?”

Valerie nodded. “Just being here. With you. No danger. No jobs. No noise.”

Judy slowed their pace, guiding them down a little slope where the trees opened up and the lake came into full view. The water reflected the sky like a mirror, hazy purples and deep blues blurring the line between heaven and earth.

“Sometimes I wonder what would’ve happened if we hadn’t found each other,” Judy whispered.

Valerie stopped walking. Turned to face her.

“You don’t have to wonder,” she said softly. “We did.”

Judy’s lip trembled, and Valerie kissed her again gently, slowly, right there on the edge of the world where only they existed. No spectators. No regrets. Just wind in the trees and water at their feet.

“Let’s never forget this,” Judy said as they pulled apart. “This peace. This love.”

Valerie rested her forehead to hers. “Never.”

They continued walking, side by side, the world falling quiet behind them again. And with every step, it felt less like a walk and more like the rest of their lives unfolding together.

The sun had just dipped below the horizon when they returned to the house, the last streaks of orange fading into dusk. The wooden steps creaked beneath their feet as they climbed back onto the deck, the swing now still, waiting. Valerie opened the sliding door, and the comforting scent of cedar and home wrapped around them like a familiar embrace.

Inside, the soft golden lights cast long shadows across the floor. The kitchen sat quiet, untouched since morning, with the mugs from their coffee still waiting by the sink. Everything felt lived-in, loved like it belonged to them and only them.

Judy tugged Valerie by the hand as they entered, her thumb tracing lazy circles on the back of her palm. “Let’s stay like this,” she murmured, “Just us. No plans, no countdowns.”

Valerie gave her a sideways smile. “You saying you don’t want me to cook something fancy?”

Judy chuckled. “Not tonight. Tonight I just want to be close.”

They moved to the couch, the cushions dipping as they sank into it together. Valerie reached over to the low bookshelf nearby and pulled out an old photo album worn at the edges, the cover faded, but every page inside packed with moments they’d lived and survived.

She opened it slowly, resting it on both their laps. Judy leaned in, head on Valerie’s shoulder, legs tangled beneath the blanket that had been waiting for them. They flipped through years in silence snapshots of their life together from Night City to Oregon. Smiles. Scars. Triumphs. Losses. All of it held in still frames and curled corners.

There were photos of their wedding day laughing under string lights, cake smeared on their faces. Pictures of them and Sera in the early days, sleepy-eyed and wrapped in blankets.

Shots of Johnny pretending not to care while clearly loving every second. And images from the new chapter they were still writing lake days, firepits, long road trips with no destination.

They lingered over one from Judy’s first dive after the war, her wetsuit unzipped to her waist, grinning up at the camera while Valerie crouched behind her with bunny ears raised.

Another showed the three of them bundled together during their first Oregon snowfall, Sera's cheeks red from the cold and Judy sneaking a marshmallow from Valerie’s cocoa.

One captured Vicky and Panam trying to build a snow fort while Sandra and Sera were pelting them with snowballs from behind a tree.

There were photos from birthdays, lazy summer naps on the dock, movie nights where everyone had fallen asleep in a pile on the couch.

Valerie in a ridiculous sunhat that Judy swore she’d never let her live down. Judy asleep on Valerie’s lap, a wrench still in her hand from hours of garage work. Little moments their life built from all of them.

They flipped to an older photo taken during a rare quiet moment in Night City: Judy asleep in Valerie’s lap, her braindance rig set aside, with Valerie’s hand resting protectively over her ribs. Another from Laguna Bend Judy holding up a rusted, heart-shaped locket they found underwater, both of them soaked and laughing in the shallows.

Further back in the album were the earliest pages frayed and a little smudged from the days when their love was still new, fragile, and bright with possibility.

A picture of Judy’s tiny Charter Street kitchen, cluttered with takeout boxes and one slightly overcooked pasta dish they swore they'd never try to make again. Valerie was perched on the counter, one sock half-off, while Judy stood between her knees, flour on her cheek and a spark in her eyes.

Another showed them curled up on that narrow old couch, the one with the rip in the cushion Judy’s head on Valerie’s lap, while Valerie braided Judy’s hair absentmindedly.

There were Polaroids taped into the pages too. One of Valerie asleep on Judy’s chest under a haze of early morning light filtering through the blinds. Another of Judy dancing barefoot in her living room in nothing but one of Valerie’s oversized shirts, laughing mid-spin.

Photos from rainy nights with both of them wrapped in one blanket by the window, steam fogging the glass. And one from their first real fight, strangely Valerie holding up a peace offering a slice of locust pepperoni pizza while Judy gave the smallest smirk, already forgiving her.

They’d carved out a life in that little apartment before the world changed. A life made up of quiet mornings, midnight laughs, and whispered promises under flickering lights. That apartment had been their first haven, and looking at those pages now, it was still etched into the foundation of everything they’d become.

Judy’s fingers slowed there, brushing the edge of the page as if to feel the moment again.

A snapshot from their first Oregon road trip showed Judy sprawled in the passenger seat with her boots on the dash, Valerie driving one-handed while holding Judy’s fingers with the other.

One from just a few weeks ago Judy and Valerie slow-dancing barefoot on the back deck, their Clan Alvarez jackets slung over the railing, the lake behind them catching the last light of day.

Then came the Polaroids scattered shots taped into the album with messy handwriting in the margins. Valerie and Judy sharing a kiss behind a blown-out music venue.

A series from Sera’s fifteenth birthday, including a shot of Valerie carrying a frosting-smeared Judy bridal style into the lake.

A quieter one, taken on a rainy morning: Judy curled up on the couch with a sketchpad, Valerie fast asleep beside her.

Tucked between those memories were the ones only they ever spoke of.

One showed Valerie sitting behind Judy on a rooftop in Japantown, her arms around her waist, neon lights flickering behind them as they watched the city breathe.

Another was from a morning in Laguna Bend Judy half-wrapped in a towel, dripping from the lake, caught mid-laugh as Valerie pointed the camera with a mischievous grin.

A rare black-and-white photo showed them curled up in the back of the Shion, an old projector screen flickering above as they watched some grainy film from the '60s with nothing but starlight and each other.

Another was taken just after Judy finished wiring her first personal project in Oregon Valerie kissing the grease off her cheek while Judy held up the screwdriver triumphantly.

There were sun-drenched mornings on the deck, Judy in Valerie’s hoodie and Valerie in Judy’s tank top, hair tousled, coffee mugs forgotten nearby. One photo was from a hike through the woods, where Valerie had lifted Judy up over a patch of mud, both of them grinning like idiots.

Another was a snapshot of Judy asleep on Valerie’s chest, her hand tangled in Valerie’s necklace peaceful in a way only trust could allow.

A softer one showed Judy tracing a new tattoo across Valerie’s ribs with a fingertip, reverent and smiling, while Valerie gazed down at her with eyes full of quiet awe.

Their anniversary trips had their own page rainy nights along the coast, slow mornings in Montana, and a blurry selfie from when Judy tackled Valerie into a bed of wildflowers somewhere along the California border. On one particularly worn page, Valerie had scribbled: “This one’s my favorite.” It was a candid shot of Judy brushing Valerie’s hair back behind her ear, her expression so full of love it hurt.

Then came a new chapter.

A photo of Sera sitting between them on the dock out back, her arms wrapped around her knees, a borrowed jacket too big on her shoulders. Judy’s hand rested gently on the girl’s back. Valerie was half-turned toward her, eyes soft, protective. That had been only days after the Shiv attack that changed everything.

Another snapshot captured the moment Sera had fallen asleep on the couch at the Lakehouse, Valerie’s arm slung around her and Judy’s legs tangled with both of theirs under a threadbare quilt. The exhaustion and grief had been etched into all their faces, but so had something else comfort, and the beginning of a new kind of trust.

One photo showed a paper lantern being released over the water at dusk, a small private memorial for Mitch and Carol. Sera stood between Valerie and Judy, holding their hands, her eyes reflecting the flickering light. No smiles just presence. Just family.

Then, there it was the moment caught by accident. Valerie had been mid-laugh, Judy looking surprised, and Sera, arms thrown around their waists, looking up at them with a tiny, trembling smile. The corner of the photo had a time stamp burned on the day of the camp attack. The same day she’d quietly asked if she could call them Mom.

That one stayed still for a long moment, neither of them turning the page.

Judy’s fingers slowed there, brushing the edge of the page as if to feel the moment again.

“Hey,” Judy whispered, her fingers pausing on the photo of Valerie caught mid-laugh, sun haloing her hair. “Do you know how beautiful you look when you forget the world exists?”

Valerie smirked. “Only when I’m with you, and Sera.”

Judy leaned up, brushing her lips against Valerie’s jaw. “Damn right.”

They stayed curled on the couch, time slipping by unnoticed. Outside, the wind rustled through the trees, and the soft hum of crickets played through the open windows. Valerie turned her head and pressed a kiss to Judy’s temple, whispering, “We made it.”

Judy exhaled a soft, content breath. “Yeah. We really did.”

Eventually, they drifted into silence again, the kind that only two people deeply in love could share where even quiet felt full. Where every heartbeat, every breath, said more than words ever could.

In that little house by the lake, with memories held in albums and love thick in the air, Valerie and Judy simply existed.

Valerie gently closed the album, fingertips lingering on the worn cover. The hush in the room felt sacred soaked with memory and meaning.

Judy’s eyes were still on the album, but a small, knowing smile played at the corners of her lips. “Hard to believe we’ve filled up this many pages,” she murmured.

Valerie leaned her head against hers. “Eleven years. Every one of ‘em earned.”

Judy nodded, then looked toward the shelf where Sera's newer photo book sat, still blank. “At least we know there’s more coming,” she said, her voice softer now. “I gave her the Polaroid yesterday... right before she and Sandra left.”

Valerie smiled. “I remember.”

Judy turned to her, her dark brown eyes gleaming with the weight of it all. “It felt right, you know? That camera’s been with me since before all this. Since Charter Street. Every photo I took that meant something... it always had you in it. Or Sera. Or both.”

She exhaled slowly, like the memory alone warmed her from within. “Now it’s her turn. Her story. Their story.”

Valerie reached for Judy’s hand and laced their fingers together. “She’s ready for it.”

Outside, the trees whispered against the glass, and the lake shimmered beneath a soft blanket of moonlight. In the quiet that followed, nothing needed to be said.

Their story wasn’t finished.

It had simply turned a page.

Eventually, the photo album lay closed on the coffee table, its worn leather cover gently reflecting the low glow of the room. The house had grown quieter as night deepened, the kind of hush that only came when memories had been honored, love spoken without a single wasted word. Outside, the lake shimmered beneath a sliver of moonlight, wind rustling softly through the trees.

Judy let out a slow breath, her head still resting on Valerie’s shoulder. “Feels like the whole world’s asleep but us.”

Valerie pressed a kiss to her hair. “Let it be. We’ve earned this kind of peace.”

They didn’t rush. They never did anymore.

After a few more moments of stillness, Valerie stood and gently offered her hand. Judy took it without hesitation, their fingers lacing with quiet ease as they moved through the house, lights dimming one by one behind them. The warmth of the day still clung faintly to the wooden floors beneath their bare feet, guiding them down the hallway like muscle memory.

The bedroom welcomed them with open arms.

Soft sheets. A bed lived-in with love. Familiar shadows dancing across the walls as the last light filtered in through the curtains.

Valerie pulled Judy in close as they lay down, her arms wrapping around her with a deliberate tenderness. She kissed her slow and deep the kind of kiss that said everything they didn’t have to anymore. The kind that promised forever without needing ceremony or spectacle.

Judy melted into her, head resting against Valerie’s chest, the steady rhythm of her heartbeat grounding everything.

“That song,” she murmured after a while, voice low and hushed against her skin. “It felt like breathing for the first time again. Like you cracked open the inside of my heart and let the light in.”

Valerie’s hand slid gently through Judy’s hair, her lips brushing her temple. “It was always for you.”

A small, content smile tugged at Judy’s mouth. “Maybe I need to return the favor,” she whispered, her voice almost playful. “Think it’s time I made you something. A short film, maybe. Nothing fancy. Just... us.”

Valerie raised an eyebrow, smiling. “Yeah? What would it be about?”

Judy snuggled closer. “You. Me. The way your eyes go soft when you look at me. The way you hum when you’re half asleep. All those little moments no one else gets to see... but I do.”

Valerie exhaled, heart aching in the best kind of way. “You’d really do that?”

Judy smiled. “You write me songs. I think it’s only fair.”

The wind sighed outside as the lake rippled under the moonlight. Inside, they drifted closer, wrapped in warmth and memory and the kind of love that didn’t need declarations anymore, but still gave them anyway.

Here, in the quiet, they simply existed whole and unbreakable.

Forever, in a lover’s embrace.

The early morning light filtered through the gauzy curtains, warm and soft as it stretched across the bedroom. Somewhere, birds chirped faintly, the kind of quiet song that belonged to places untouched by urgency. Beneath the covers, the world was slower, sleepier except for the gentle shifting of Judy’s fingers tracing idle circles along Valerie’s hip.

Valerie hummed faintly at the touch, not quite awake but leaning into it all the same.

“You always sleep so deep after you sing to me,” Judy whispered, voice thick with morning rasp and affection. Her breath was warm against Valerie’s shoulder. “Like you emptied your whole heart and had to recharge.”

Valerie smiled, still half-dreaming. “Only way I know how.”

Judy chuckled softly, then pressed a kiss to the edge of Valerie’s jaw. “You’re lucky I let you sleep this long.”

Valerie cracked one eye open. “Oh? What was your plan?”

“This.” Judy’s mouth was on her neck before Valerie could counter slow, deliberate kisses trailing from her collarbone up to her ear, where her teeth grazed just enough to draw a small gasp.

Valerie shifted onto her back as Judy straddled her thighs, her dark brown eyes smoldering with familiar fire, pink and green hair a tousled mess from sleep. “God, you’re cute in the mornings,” she murmured, brushing stray red strands from Valerie’s face. “It’s almost unfair.”

Valerie grinned. “Almost?”

“Mmhm.” Judy leaned down again, lips brushing Valerie’s, the kiss starting slow playful, lazy, but quickly deepening, her tongue teasing just enough to make Valerie’s breath hitch. Their hands found each other’s sleep shirts, tugging upward, exposing warm skin to the cool air.

Clothes slipped away piece by piece, not rushed, not frantic just peeled away between kisses and teasing smiles, as if each article carried a memory worth savoring. Valerie’s hands roamed Judy’s back, palms sliding over soft curves and old scars, grounding them both in the present.

“Still into me?” Valerie whispered, echoing the song from the day before with a cheeky lift of her brow.

Judy gave her a look. “Baby, I’m devouring you.”

They rolled once, then again, tangled in blankets and each other, their bare skin pressed flush as warmth and want filled the space between every breath. Laughter bubbled up between kisses, teasing and tender, the kind that only came from years of knowing every corner of each other’s hearts.

When Judy finally stilled, lips brushing just under Valerie’s ear, she whispered, “Let me take care of you.”

Valerie’s answer was a quiet nod, her fingers tracing a promise along Judy’s spine. “Always.”

Valerie laid back against the pillows, her chest rising slowly with anticipation, a flush already coloring her freckled cheeks. Judy kissed her way down with reverence, lips brushing the base of Valerie’s throat, then lower, tracing the soft curve of her collarbone. Every kiss was deliberate. No rush. No theatrics. Just affection so real it pulsed between them.

“You’ve always been the strongest person I know,” Judy murmured, her voice low and husky, “but I love when you let yourself melt for me.”

Valerie’s eyes fluttered, a breath catching in her throat. “You’re the only one I ever could.”

Judy smiled against her skin, then continued her trail kissing across the swell of Valerie’s breasts, teasing with the flat of her tongue before sucking gently until Valerie gasped, her hand threading into Judy’s hair.

Her hands moved with purpose, fingers skimming every familiar rise and curve, as if confirming Valerie was really here alive, warm, hers. She kissed her way lower, each movement a vow. Her mouth traced over Valerie’s ribs, pausing to press a kiss just beneath her left side, over the old scar from one of their worst nights in Night City.

“I hated that you got hurt,” Judy whispered, resting her cheek there for a breath. “But I’m so damn glad you made it back to me.”

Valerie’s fingers tightened in her hair. “I made it back because I had you to come home to.”

Judy looked up at her, eyes dark and glassy with emotion. Then, with quiet confidence, she lowered herself between Valerie’s thighs, lifting one of her legs gently over her shoulder.

The first press of Judy’s mouth was soft, like a secret. Her tongue moved slowly at first, savoring every shiver that ran through Valerie’s body. Her hands gripped Valerie’s hips just enough to steady her, but her pace was patient purposeful like she wanted Valerie to feel every bit of it. Her tongue danced and curled, each movement sending pleasure building in waves.

Valerie’s back arched, a soft moan escaping as she bit her lip, eyes fluttering. “Fuck, Judy…”

Judy hummed against her, the sound vibrating through her, making Valerie tremble. She looked up, eyes meeting Valerie's silent promise that she wasn’t stopping until Valerie forgot her own name.

Her tongue circled again, deeper this time, more insistent, and Valerie’s body bucked beneath her. Her thighs quivered, and her fingers clawed gently at the sheets as Judy's pace quickened, coaxing her higher, holding her there right on the edge until the pleasure finally overtook her.

Valerie came undone with a cry that was part relief, part reverence, her body pulsing in waves. Judy didn’t stop until she had felt every aftershock, until her breathing settled and her fingers softened their grip.

She crawled back up, kissing Valerie’s neck, her cheek, finally resting her forehead against hers. Their breaths mingled, warm and uneven.

“I love you,” Judy whispered, brushing her thumb along Valerie’s flushed cheek.

Valerie smiled, dazed and glowing. “Then don’t move. I need a second before I return the favor.”

Judy chuckled against her lips. “Take all the time you need, mi amor. I’m not going anywhere.”

The air between them was thick with warmth and affection, heavy with the kind of quiet intimacy that didn’t need words to deepen. Valerie shifted beneath the sheets, her body still humming from Judy’s touch. But she didn’t need recovery. What she needed was to pour all of it back into the woman curled beside her.

She didn’t ask. She didn’t tease. She simply rolled gently, hovering over Judy with a kiss that was soft at first then deepened slowly, drawing a breathless sigh from her wife. Valerie’s fingers slid down Judy’s side, nails tracing light, deliberate lines over bare skin, enough to raise goosebumps.

Judy’s hands instinctively curled around Valerie’s back, but her eyes were already closing, her head tipping slightly as she surrendered to the moment. “You always know exactly what I need,” she murmured.

Valerie smiled, brushing her nose along Judy’s jaw before kissing the spot beneath her ear, the place that always made her shiver. “I’ve had a lot of practice.”

She kissed her way down with purpose, mouth lingering over Judy’s chest, letting her lips drag and her tongue dance as Judy arched into her. She gave attention to every inch of her the way her breath caught, the way her heartbeat stuttered under her skin. There was no rush, no performance. Valerie worshipped her. Loved her like it was her only job.

Her hands smoothed down Judy’s sides, fingers grazing her hips before settling gently on her thighs. She nuzzled lower, teasing the inside of one with her lips, smiling at the way Judy’s breath hitched and her thighs opened just a little more, a silent invitation.

Valerie took it slowly, her mouth finding Judy’s center with reverence. She kissed her there first slow, open-mouthed kisses that made Judy whimper, her fingers gripping the sheets.

And then Valerie truly began her tongue flicking, swirling, moving in careful, rhythmic circles that sent fire through Judy’s veins. She didn’t stop. She didn’t let go. Her hands held Judy close, keeping her grounded as the waves built again and again.

“Fuck… Val…” Judy gasped, her voice breaking in the quiet.

Valerie glanced up, her emerald eyes locked onto Judy’s with raw intensity, never breaking contact as she worked. “Let go for me,” she whispered, then dipped her head again.

Judy did. Her back arched, her thighs trembled, and her body surged with a cry that filled the room sharp, raw, beautiful. Valerie kept her there, easing her through the aftershocks, tongue softening, kisses gentler until Judy’s body settled back against the sheets, slick with warmth and glowing from within.

Valerie crawled back up slowly, kissing the curve of Judy’s stomach, then her ribs, her chest, her throat until she reached her lips again.

Judy pulled her into a kiss that was messy, deep, and still trembling. “I love you,” she whispered fiercely. “You make me feel like I matter more than the whole goddamn world.”

Valerie cupped her cheek, brushing her thumb across the soft trail of tears Judy hadn’t noticed she shed. “That’s ‘cause you do.”

They stayed like that for a few long moments, tangled in sheets and breath and hearts still beating fast.

Then Judy grinned through the haze. “Shower?”

Valerie’s brow lifted. “You sure you can walk?”

Judy smirked, nipping her shoulder. “Carry me.”

Valerie didn’t hesitate.

Still flushed and glowing from the afterglow, she slipped her arms under Judy’s thighs and back in one smooth motion, lifting her clean off the bed. Judy squealed in surprise, then laughed breathlessly, arms instinctively locking around Valerie’s neck.

“Val..!” she gasped, head falling against her shoulder. “You weren’t actually supposed to do it.”

Valerie grinned, walking them through the warm, golden-toned bedroom with ease. “Too late. You dared me with those eyes. That’s on you.”

Judy giggled against her neck, voice soft. “You’re such a showoff.”

“Only for you,” Valerie murmured, pausing outside the bathroom to nudge the door open with her foot. The lights flickered on automatically, revealing the wide shower stall lined with smooth stone and pale tile, a faint mist still clinging to the air from their earlier use.

She stepped inside and gently lowered Judy to her feet, but not before stealing one more slow kiss the kind that left them both leaning into each other, hearts still echoing from before.

Steam quickly swirled around them as Valerie twisted the handle, adjusting the temperature until it poured down hot and steady. Judy tugged her into the water without waiting, both of them laughing as droplets splashed across their skin.

There was no rush. Just hands sliding over backs and arms, fingers through wet hair, their bodies swaying close under the cascade like a slow dance rediscovered. Judy washed Valerie’s shoulders with gentle circles, teasing a kiss to her collarbone. Valerie returned the favor with sudsy fingers trailing low across Judy’s hips, making her yelp and swat with a playful glare.

“Behave,” Judy warned with zero authority.

Valerie raised a brow, stepping in close, lips brushing the corner of her mouth. “Nope.”

They chuckled together as the tension melted into playful tenderness. Valerie let Judy press her back to the wall, their bodies close enough to feel the water weaving between them, the occasional bubble of laughter breaking the soft rhythm of the moment.

Eventually, they turned to rinse off, trading kisses beneath the spray each one slow, familiar, addictive. The kind that spoke of a love earned over time, of a life weathered and survived together.

As the water began to cool, they stepped out wrapped in towels and each other, their laughter still echoing softly off the tiles.

Back in the bedroom, they collapsed into clean sheets, skin damp, hearts full.

Judy curled into Valerie’s side with a long, satisfied sigh. “You know,” she murmured, voice drowsy, “you make mornings dangerous. I’m never gonna want to get out of bed again.”

Valerie kissed her damp hair, pulling her closer. “Then don’t.”

With the scent of lavender soap still on their skin and the warmth of the morning sun filtering through the windows, they drifted into the kind of peace only soulmates could ever find.

The shower had left the house warm and mist-sweet, skin still glowing, hearts still full. Wrapped in soft robes and that unmistakable feeling of being known, they moved together through the quiet halls bare feet padding across old wood, fingers brushing now and then, refusing to let the moment go completely.

Valerie was the first to drift toward the kitchen, towel still hanging loosely around her neck, while Judy trailed behind, tying her robe with one hand and tousling her damp hair with the other. The smell of fresh-ground coffee was already thick in the air, rich and comforting.

“What’s the verdict?” Judy asked, peeking over Valerie’s shoulder as she cracked eggs into a pan.

“Protein,” Valerie replied, grinning. “Gotta replenish after all your cardio.”

Judy laughed, low and playful, then reached for the bread to start toasting. “You say that like you didn’t beg for extra rounds.”

Valerie glanced over, brow raised. “I didn’t hear you complaining.”

“I didn’t have the breath to.”

They bumped hips in passing, laughter spilling out between them like it belonged there, like it had always belonged. The clinking of silverware and the sizzle of food soon filled the kitchen, mixing with stolen glances and lazy kisses between tasks.

By the time they sat down at the table sunlight stretching through the windows, plates stacked with eggs, toast, and fruit it already felt like another perfect memory in the making.

Then came the moment.

Judy arched an eyebrow, licking a bit of toast from the corner of her lip. “Liar.”

Valerie leaned back in her chair, lips quirking as she watched her. “Still into you, though.”

Judy scoffed softly, but her eyes betrayed the affection behind the tease. “Sap.”

Valerie leaned forward across the table, her fingers brushing against Judy’s wrist, voice low and warm. “Only for you.”

They lingered in the kitchen long after the food was gone, their plates cleared but their bodies still close, wrapped in that quiet morning haze that only came after making love and laughing through breakfast like teenagers again. Judy leaned back against the counter, arms loosely crossed, her dark eyes tracing the lines of Valerie’s face as if trying to memorize her all over again. Valerie was drying her hands, the dish towel slung over her shoulder, strands of red hair still damp from their shower, curling gently at her collarbone.

Judy stepped closer, slipping her hands around Valerie’s waist. “You’re glowing,” she said softly, brushing her lips along the edge of Valerie’s jaw. “Like the whole damn sun’s inside you.”

Valerie chuckled under her breath, tucking a piece of Judy’s hair behind her ear. “Might be. You tend to do that to me.”

They stood like that for a moment, swaying faintly in place, the quiet hum of the house folding in around them. Outside, the lake glistened through the wide windows, the light painting slow-moving reflections across the walls. Everything was still. Whole. Exactly where it was meant to be.

Judy pulled back just slightly, her voice low and warm. “You still planning to finish that track you teased me with last week?”

Valerie tilted her head, eyebrows lifted. “Only if you finish what you were working on. You said it was for me.”

“I lied,” Judy said, lips twitching. “It’s for us.”

A slow grin spread across Valerie’s face. She leaned in and kissed her again soft, playful, promising, and then gently took Judy’s hand, walking her down the hall.

They moved in rhythm, steps light, trailing fingers against the walls like they were tracing history. At the split near the end of the hall, they paused. Judy rested her forehead against Valerie’s, eyes fluttering shut.

“I’ll be just across the hall,” she whispered.

Valerie smiled. “Always are.”

They broke off with a final squeeze of fingers and each disappeared into their respective sanctuary spaces they’d built together over the years.

Judy’s editing room welcomed her like an old friend. She stepped barefoot onto the smooth concrete floor, her toes curling slightly at the coolness. The main terminal was already humming, the curved monitors glowing with soft blues and purples. Her BD rig waited, sleek and upgraded beyond anything Night City ever thought possible custom tuned by her own hands. Every wire, every relay, every interface had a purpose. A story. Most of those stories were Valerie.

She slid into her seat, tapping her temple twice. The neural relay blinked to life, two light filaments flaring under each eye like faint tattoos. Her mind synced with the system instantly, thoughts flowing directly into the timeline. She reached for the memory files raw, unpolished footage pulled from their time together. Not the public stuff. Not concert clips or BD tours. These were hers.

Judy hovered her hand in the air, and a projection flickered to life before her a slow moment on a dock, Valerie dancing in the rain, no music, no crowd. Just joy. She smiled, eyes wet without warning.

Across the hall, Valerie had slipped into her recording room. The walls were lined with acoustic panels stitched in roses, a nod to Judy. Her soundboard warmed beneath her fingers as she adjusted the levels. On the wall was a framed photo of them one Judy had taken with a cheap polaroid years ago. Valerie’s hair was wild, her eyeliner smudged from laughing too hard, Judy’s hand halfway into frame from where she’d tried to block the lens.

She sat in her chair and took a long breath. Her lyrics were open on the tablet beside her, but she didn’t read them. She already knew every word by heart. Instead, she closed her eyes and let herself feel really feel everything she’d carried for Judy over the years. The nights by hospital beds. The gunfights survived. The first morning Sera had called them Mom. The way Judy still looked at her like she was the only person in the world.

She pressed the mic’s activation switch.

“Test, test,” she murmured. “This one’s just for you, babe.”

Her voice raw, smoky, beautiful spilled into the room as the track began to record. She didn’t need music behind it yet. The rhythm was in her heart, and it was beating for Judy.

Back in the editing room, Judy was quietly watching another clip Valerie asleep on the couch, their cat curled up against her ribs, a book still open on her chest. Judy paused the feed and leaned back, hands pressed over her face. “God, I love you,” she whispered.

She wiped her eyes, smiled, and went back to editing.

Between the two rooms, the house felt alive with their energy two halves of the same soul creating side by side. No deadlines. No distractions. Just the quiet miracle of building something beautiful for the only person who would ever truly understand.

The sun had long dipped behind the trees, casting the lake in a soft, dusky glow. Long shadows filtered through the open windows, dancing gently across the wooden floors as the house fell quiet again, save for the low ambient hum of the equipment winding down. In her studio, Valerie stretched out her arms with a satisfied sigh, her voice still lingering in the air from the final take. She leaned back in her chair, eyes closed, smiling faintly to herself. The gentle thrum of creation still buzzed beneath her skin.

Just across the hall, Judy stood in her editing room doorway, silently watching her wife through the studio doorway. Valerie’s back was to her, the silhouette of her shoulders soft in the ambient light. Judy tilted her head, a small, quiet smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. The kind of smile that only ever belonged to Valerie.

The moment Valerie turned her head, catching the movement from the corner of her eye, she met Judy’s gaze, and there it was. That spark. That silent recognition that said, “You’re mine. I’m yours.”

“Hey,” Judy said softly, her voice warm and low.

Valerie’s lips curved. “Hey.”

Judy walked the short hallway barefoot, slow and unrushed, as though time itself knew better than to intrude. She reached out and took Valerie’s hand in both of hers, their fingers finding each other with the kind of ease only years of love could teach. Her thumb traced slow circles against Valerie’s skin.

“It’s ready,” she murmured, voice barely above a whisper.

Valerie rose without question. Her fingers stayed woven with Judy’s as they made their way into the living room. The house felt alive in that moment like it knew something important was about to happen.

The couch welcomed them like an old friend. Valerie sank down first, leaning into the cushions with a tired sigh that turned into a quiet hum of contentment as Judy joined her. One leg thrown lazily over Valerie’s thigh, head tucked beneath her chin. Judy adjusted the neural relay beneath her ear, the small flicker of light blinking in sync. Valerie did the same, the movement automatic, like breathing.

With a pulse of light, the BD projection bloomed to life on the far wall. But this wasn’t a concert, or a polished interview reel. This was something more sacred. More real. This was their life.

The first scene flickered gently into view Valerie asleep in their bed, twisted in the sheets, one hand curled against her cheek. The morning sun painted gold across her back. She stirred slightly, murmured something unintelligible, and smiled. Judy’s voice came soft over the image. "This is how I see you when the world isn’t watching."

Valerie blinked slowly, stunned already. Her eyes tracked the footage like it was something holy.

The next clip played. Valerie stood at the edge of the lake in early autumn, tank top clinging to her as wind danced through the trees. She stretched her arms high over her head, and as she turned, the camera caught the exact moment she noticed Judy filming. Her face lit up with laughter, eyes crinkling in that way only Judy could draw out of her.

Judy rested her cheek against Valerie’s shoulder, speaking softly into her skin. “You looked like magic that day.”

More scenes followed.

Valerie reaching across the table, brushing paint off Judy’s cheek during their living room mural project. Her fingers stained blue, her face wearing a mischievous grin.

Valerie, soaking wet in a spring thunderstorm, dragging Judy out from under the porch to dance barefoot in the grass.

Valerie singing by the fireplace late at night, a rough, half-written melody tumbling out of her. Her eyes closed, her soul bared. The raw, unfinished kind of moment she rarely let anyone see, but always gave to Judy.

Then one where Judy was obviously sneaking the shot Valerie curled up on the couch in sweatpants and one of Judy’s old tank tops, reading aloud from a dog-eared book while stirring a mug of tea with her other hand.

And then another.

Valerie on the back porch after one of her panic attacks. Knees pulled to her chest, breathing shaky. Judy’s voice softly narrating over the image: "Even in the moments you felt broken you never stopped being the strongest person I’ve ever known."

Valerie turned her face into Judy’s hair, eyes glassy.

“I can’t believe you kept all of these,” she whispered.

“I kept everything,” Judy murmured. “Every second of you.”

The projection faded to another scene. A grainy clip from their first winter together in Oregon Valerie building a lopsided snowman while Judy tossed snowballs at her from behind the camera.

“I still think I should’ve won that snowball fight,” Valerie muttered with a smile.

“You did,” Judy said, brushing her lips against Valerie’s jaw. “But I won your heart, so I think that counts double.”

A soft laugh passed between them.

The final clip played.

Valerie fast asleep on the couch in their old apartment, years ago. A blanket tucked around her, hair falling into her eyes. Judy’s voice came through, unfiltered, caught on the audio track like a secret never meant to be heard.

“Even then, I knew. You were it for me.”

The projection faded to black.

The room sat in silence.

Not empty silence, but full. Brimming. Heavy with every heartbeat and every breath shared between them.

Judy slowly turned her head, her lips brushing Valerie’s ear as she whispered, “Told you I’d catch up. You keep writing me songs I’ll keep building the rest.”

Valerie smiled through quiet tears. “Then we’ve still got so much left to live.”

They didn’t speak after that not because there was nothing left to say, but because the most important things had already been spoken. With glances. With hands. With the quiet promise between them.

Outside, the moon rose high over the lake, casting silver across the water.

In the quiet of their living room, wrapped in each other’s arms, Valerie and Judy let the night hold them as deeply as they held one another.

The BD projector faded to black as the room softened to quiet. Judy rested against Valerie, her head nestled in the crook of her neck, both of them still wrapped in the gentle afterglow of everything they’d just relived together. A lifetime played back in colors, sounds, and breathless emotions each memory hand-picked, each second heavy with love.

The Holo buzzed faintly from the nearby counter. Judy leaned over with a sleepy smile and tapped to answer.

Sera’s face popped up, flushed with energy and pride. “Hey, Mama!”

Judy sat up straighter, smiling. “Hey, mi cielo. Everything good?”

“Better than good,” Sera grinned. Sandra leaned into frame beside her, waving with a mouthful of food. “We just got the convoy safely back to Highland. Killjoy gave us props, and Screwbie didn’t catch on fire this time.”

Sandra added, “Barely. And someone tried to name a canyon after us.”

Sera rolled her eyes, then held up the Polaroid camera. “We’ve been taking pictures of everything. Sandra’s already trying to plan our honeymoon now that the mission’s done.”

Judy laughed, eyes warm. “Just don’t book it without telling your moms.”

Sera smirked. “No promises.”

“I miss you both,” Judy said softly. “Be safe. And pick somewhere romantic, but not too wild.”

The call ended with sleepy goodnights and goofy kisses blown toward the screen.

When Judy turned around, the living room was empty. A soft glow spilled from the kitchen.

She followed it in.

Valerie stood near the stove, candles flickering around her. The table was set two plates, two wine glasses, a small vase with wildflowers, and that unmistakable soft grace Valerie always carried when she was planning something from the heart.

Judy leaned against the doorframe. “You slipped away.”

Valerie smiled over her shoulder. “Wanted to make tonight last just a little longer.”

Judy stepped closer, brushing her fingers against Valerie’s back. “You didn’t have to.”

“I wanted to.” Valerie turned, eyes glowing in the candlelight. “You’ve given me everything, Jude. A life. A family. A place to belong. Tonight, I just wanted to remind you…”

She paused, reaching out to take Judy’s hand. “That I still love you. Even more every day. After everything the streets, the storms, the silence we’re still here. Still us. Locked inside a lover’s embrace.”

Judy’s throat tightened, her dark eyes glassy with emotion. “Only you could make dinner feel like a vow renewal.”

Valerie chuckled. “Good. ‘Cause I meant every word.”

Judy pulled her in slowly, fingers curling behind her neck, lips brushing Valerie’s with deliberate slowness. What began as a whisper of affection deepened into a long, quiet kiss, steady, reverent, full of everything words had already said and everything they didn’t need to.

They lingered there at the table, fingers intertwined beside flickering candlelight, a home built from battles and belonging, and love that only grew stronger through every chapter they lived together.

Valerie finally broke the kiss with a soft smile, brushing the tip of her nose against Judy’s. “Come on,” she whispered, her voice thick with warmth, “you haven’t even tasted the sauce yet.”

Judy let her go with a small sigh of mock reluctance, trailing her fingers down Valerie’s wrist before finally sitting. The table was set with carefully folded cloth napkins, crystal glasses filled with a local wine, and steaming plates of seared salmon laid over wild rice and seasonal vegetables. The glaze shimmered in the candlelight, a small but thoughtful touch that made the whole thing feel sacred.

“This looks incredible,” Judy murmured, lifting her fork like it was a delicate tool, not just cutlery.

“I remembered you liked that honey-lemon finish,” Valerie said as she sat across from her. “And the rice is from that stall you found last spring. The one with the lavender and basil mix.”

Judy’s eyes sparkled with recognition. “You really do remember every little thing.”

Valerie shrugged with a gentle grin. “Only the ones that matter.”

They ate slowly, trading bites now and then across the table, fingers brushing over the rim of the shared plate of roasted carrots or a piece of toasted sourdough slathered in herb butter. Valerie stole the last bite of fish, grinning guiltily as Judy pretended to glare.

“Mmm. Worth it,” Valerie teased as she chewed.

Judy reached across the table, pinching her fingers close in the air. “That’s this close to betrayal.”

Valerie leaned in. “Guess I’ll have to make it up to you later.”

Judy met her gaze for a lingering beat, her expression softening. “You always do.”

Afterward, they rose together to clear the plates not rushed, but slow and choreographed like a dance they’d done a hundred times before. Judy rinsed while Valerie dried. The clink of glass, the scent of lemon soap, the way their hips brushed when one reached over the other it was intimacy in motion. Shared rhythm. A practiced ritual that said we live here and we loved here.

When the last plate was put away, Judy looped her arms around Valerie’s waist from behind, resting her chin on her shoulder.

“You still make the best dinners I’ve ever had,” she murmured.

Valerie leaned her head gently against hers. “You’re the reason I learned to cook in the first place.”

Judy smiled. “Still think it’s funny we survived the Afterlife, Arasaka, even Smasher… but it's just us, a kitchen, soft music that feels like a win.”

Valerie turned in her arms, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “That’s ‘cause it is.”

Judy closed her eyes for a moment, breathing in the warmth of Valerie’s presence. Just the subtle hum of the world moving gently around them. She leaned in, resting her head against Valerie’s chest, feeling the steady beat beneath her ear like a lullaby written just for her.

Neither of them moved for a while, savoring the stillness, the unspoken promise between heartbeats.

Eventually, fingers still intertwined, they drifted from the kitchen toward the back of the house. No words, just the hush of familiar footsteps on creaking floorboards, the soft slide of the deck door, and the night waiting to receive them. Fingers gave way as lungs filled with the night air.

The air had taken on a gentle stillness, that quiet kind of nightfall only the lake knew how to hold. Moonlight stretched in long, silver ribbons across the water, soft and endless. The trees swayed in rhythm with the breeze, the stars just beginning to prick through the dark.

Judy stood at the edge of the deck, both hands resting on the worn railing, her eyes tracing the curve of the horizon. She didn’t speak. She didn’t need to. Behind her, she heard Valerie’s bare footsteps, soft against the wood.

A warm presence pressed against her back, arms folding around her waist with care, familiarity, and quiet promise. Valerie’s chin found its place on Judy’s shoulder, and they fit together the way they always had without effort, without pause.

For a long time, they didn’t move.

Judy’s fingers drifted up to trace the hand resting across her stomach, her thumb brushing against Valerie’s knuckles. “I used to wonder,” she said softly, “what peace might feel like.”

Valerie’s lips brushed her cheek. “Now you know?”

Judy turned her head just enough to meet her eyes. “Only because you’re here.”

Valerie exhaled slowly, holding her tighter. “I’m always here.”

The breeze whispered around them, but the world itself seemed to still.

Their silhouettes blended into one, standing quietly against the night. There were no fireworks, no grand declarations. Just the heartbeat of a life lived together. A quiet, unbreakable truth held between them like a vow renewed without words.

In that silence, wrapped in moonlight and memory, they stayed two souls held in a lover’s embrace, with nothing left to prove, and everything still left to share.

Chapter Text

The low hum of warm-up tones buzzed through the backstage corridors, the distant murmur of the amphitheater crowd like the ocean pushing against a cliff. Lights blinked rhythmically along the panel board while Valerie Alvarez stood in front of the dressing room mirror, adjusting her red hair with quiet precision. She looked calm, and steady. But her fingers, those calloused fingertips made for steel strings and trigger pulls tapped once against the edge of the counter.

Behind her, movement. Boots, laughter, and the scuff of cases being set down.

"Hey, boss," Ethan called as he stepped in, slinging his bass around with a casual spin and a grin that could brighten half a city block. His jet-black braids were tied back tonight, and his shirt was an explosion of clashing colors like a walking tie-dye rebellion. "Tuned and grounded. And I swear I only rewired one pedal. Maybe two."

Valerie arched her brow. "Just don’t blow out the amps this time."

"No promises." Ethan winked and slid onto the couch, feet already tapping out the tempo to tonight’s opener.

Paz followed right behind him, drumsticks tucked into the loops of his ripped jeans, his leather vest worn and cracked like an old gig poster. He gave Valerie a quick two-finger salute, brushing long blond hair out of his eyes. "Crowd’s hyped. Some Corpo kid outside said we’re trending."

"I don’t trust anyone under thirty who says 'trending,'" Valerie replied with a smirk.

"Love you too," Paz said with a grin, then started air-drumming against his thighs.

Alba entered next, her Nomad leathers decked in hand-painted patches and colored cords that wrapped down her sleeves like tribal tattoos. She carried herself with quiet confidence, a keyboard case slung over her shoulder and a half-eaten protein bar in the other hand.

"Desert-born and night-ready," she said, dropping the case gently by the wall. "You still want that arpeggio to drift in the bridge of 'Starfall'?"

"Yeah," Valerie said. "Slide it in with a little more space. Let it breathe."

"Got you."

Then came Aniko loud boots, louder eyeliner, and an attitude that somehow didn’t undercut her grace when she sat at the upright rehearsal piano in the corner. Hair shaved close on one side, the other dyed a brilliant cobalt blue, she was already warming up with one hand while flipping off a bot-fly in her drink with the other.

"If that thing flies near my gear, it’s war," she muttered.

Valerie laughed, shaking her head as she turned to face them all. "Alright. Look at us. One Nomad, one Corpo dropout, one synthwave anarchist, one desert mage, and me the walking contradiction."

Paz chimed in, “All heart. No brakes.”

"Damn right." Valerie gave them a nod. "We’ve rehearsed every note, every shift. But the only thing I care about tonight more than perfect chords or clean cues is that we mean every beat. We’re not just playing. We’re telling our story. Mine. Yours. All of ours."

She paused. The quiet before ignition.

"So when those lights go up, don't hold back. Burn it down. And build something better in its place."

The room echoed with a quiet buzz of electricity not just from the gear, but from the unspoken unity between them.

Ethan gave her a small salute. Paz raised a stick. Alba smiled through her focus. Aniko cracked her knuckles and rolled her shoulders.

Valerie looked at them one last time.

"Let’s set the night on fire."

With that, the stage manager knocked twice on the door.

Showtime.

The night had been waiting for this.

It swept over Klamath Falls like a tide cool, clear, and full of breathless anticipation. The lake shimmered like a mirror to the stars, its stillness broken only by the occasional ripple that whispered toward the shore. Lanterns drifted in the air like lazy fireflies, suspended by invisible threads, their warm amber glow dancing against the windless sky. Beyond the hill, where the grass sloped gently toward the open-air amphitheater, hundreds of souls gathered under the night.

The amphitheater wasn’t massive or extravagant, but it didn’t need to be. Built by the Wolfcats during the last decade, it stood proudly near the lakeshore just beside the Resort. A wide stage curved gently with the land, nestled in the open air where pine trees framed the backdrop and moonlight danced on the water.

Soft uplighting glowed beneath the stage, and a long banner of black silk stretched overhead, stitched with a single phrase: "Love Through Loss-Valerie Alvarez" in purple lettering. The title shimmered with quiet dignity, no fanfare needed. Behind the stage, a curved projection screen displayed the album art. A lotus flower with two roses crossed in an X filled with memory and meaning.

Rows of chairs lined the gentle slope, but many had chosen to sit on blankets, arms wrapped around each other, families close. Children giggled as they chased lightsticks between rows, and old-timers leaned back with wistful eyes, the kind that had seen more years than they ever expected. The crowd wasn’t just from Klamath Falls it was from everywhere. Clan Alvarez. Aldecaldos. Locals. Nomads. Old friends from Night City. Fans who had followed her journey since the first crackling pirate broadcasts she ever shared. Tonight, they were all here for her.

Just off to the right side of the hill, the front row was packed with those who knew her best.

Judy sat forward on the edge of her seat, legs crossed beneath her, hair brushed behind one ear, that signature pink and green catching the light like wildfire. Her dark brown eyes were locked on the stage pride, love, and breathless longing all at once etched into her expression.

Sera leaned on Sandra's shoulder beside her, both girls decked out in their Clan Alvarez denim jackets with the signature phoenix patch and stitched names across the chest. Sandra’s fingers laced with hers. Every now and then, Sera would whisper something, and Sandra would smile wide, eyes shimmering.

Panam and Vicky were in their Aldecaldos reds Panam’s arm draped across Vicky’s shoulder as she glanced around the crowd like she was casing the place for trouble, even here. Vicky elbowed her gently. “Relax. Tonight’s a love song, not a firefight.”

Jessica and Vanessa sat intertwined just behind them. Vanessa, ever the cool one, had her arm resting behind Jess’s back, her other hand fiddling with a glowing silver trimtech pendant Valerie had gifted her years ago.

A few seats down, Johnny sat with his arms crossed and a rare softness behind his eyes. No flashy remarks, no middle fingers to the sky, just silent pride as he glanced at Valerie’s name on the banner. Beside him, Kerry leaned back in his seat with an easy grin, silver rings catching the ambient light, one boot tapping gently in rhythm with the pre-show hum. He didn’t say it out loud, but the look they exchanged said enough: She made it.

At the far end of the row, watching with a hand over her heart, was Ainara. The oldest of them. The one who’d once whispered stories to Valerie in a dark living room when hope felt impossible. She wore an old shawl, faded but proud, and her eyes were already glistening, and the show hadn’t even begun.

Then, the lights dimmed.

A hush swept across the crowd like a breath being held.

From the shadows of the Phoenix wings displayed on the screen, a silhouette emerged.

Valerie Alvarez.

She walked out slowly, silver rocker boots soft on the wood, movements fluid, graceful, unhurried. A soft wind caught her long red hair, flowing across her shoulders as she stepped beneath the first spotlight. She wore a sleeveless black top beneath her jacket, the Clan Alvarez phoenix glowing faintly beneath the lights. Her lotus tattoo peeked from the side of her collar. Her presence alone pulled silence from the night.

A mic waited on its stand at center stage. She stopped in front of it, her hands resting gently against its edges. She looked out not just at the crowd, but past them. Through them. Like she was seeing every year they’d lived. Every scar. Every joy.

Her voice, when it came, was low and steady.

“This album wasn't just something I made. It’s everything I am. Every loss I survived. Every love I held onto. Every fight I came through. When I should’ve been dust in the wind.”

“Tonight isn’t just about music. It’s a memory. A love letter. A truth I’ve waited a long time to say out loud.”

“So if you came here lookin’ for perfection... you might’ve taken a wrong turn. But if you came here for something real then welcome home.”

A soft cheer stirred the crowd, rising slowly, respectfully, like thunder just rolling in.

Valerie lifted her chin. Her emerald green eyes shimmered under the lights.

“Let’s begin where it always does when we rise from the ashes.”

She stepped back, gave a small nod to the shadows behind her, and the first quiet notes of Ashes Rise began to hum through the speakers, like the start of a heartbeat just waking from the dark.

The spotlight narrowed to a single beam, casting Valerie in gold against the dark stage. The opening chords of Ashes Rise thundered through the speakers low, distorted, like the rumble of an engine tearing across the Badlands. Smoke hissed out from both stage corners, curling like ghost trails behind her boots.

Then she sang no hesitation, no build-up, just fire unleashed:

"Snake Nation tried to kill me…"

Her voice was raw grit wrapped in melody, laced with fury and pain. The crowd snapped to attention. Hands clenched, heads nodded, and no one breathed.

"They hurt my family…"

From the front row, Judy closed her eyes, the words cutting through her like echoes from a life survived. Sera’s jaw tightened, fingers gripping Sandra’s hand tighter. Panam muttered, “Damn right,” under her breath.

Valerie didn’t soften.

"I’ve endured their shit…With every bullet I’ve been hit…"

Paz’s drums crashed in behind her, a rhythm that matched the rhythm of her heartbeat, unrelenting, thunderous. The screen behind her lit up with rapid-fire images: shadowy silhouettes of motorcades, burning camps, flashes of chrome, and the blurred figure of her younger self cradling a bloodied shotgun under a blood-red sky.

"Like a Phoenix…"

She lifted her arms, the image on the screen flaring behind her like wings.

"I rose again!"

Flames burst from the stage edges in time with the drop tight jets of fire roaring into the sky as the crowd erupted in shock and awe.

"SPREAD YOUR WINGS!"

Her voice cracked through the night like lightning.

"SPREAD YOUR WINGS! SPREAD YOUR WINGS!"

The backup lights strobed violet and gold with every repetition, casting her in bursts of energy. The screen showed a phoenix shattering its cage in slow motion.

"UNLEASH YOUR RAGE!"

"SHOW THEM WE DON’T BELONG IN A CAGE!"

The call wasn’t just for her, it was for all of them. For every Nomad. Every kid who’d grown up hiding under metal plates. Every fighter with dirt under their nails and fire in their blood.

The mics picked up the roar from the crowd an echo, not rehearsed, not planned, but real. People were screaming it back now:

“SPREAD YOUR WINGS! UNLEASH YOUR RAGE!”

She stepped forward, boots thudding the wood like drumbeats.

"Every throw of the dice, we’re the ones who pay the price…We are the virtue locked inside their vice!"

The screen flickered to slow-motion shots and memories turned cinematic. Valerie shields a wounded Nomad. Valerie standing over her brother Vincent’s broken body. Valerie clutching a battered guitar in the ruins of a Mox safehouse.

"We’ll never fade away…Even when we crumble like clay…"

She dropped to her knees, clutching the mic like it was the only thing holding her upright.

"Let’s show ‘em we won’t obey!"

She rose slowly, unbroken, defiant.

"SPREAD YOUR WINGS! SPREAD YOUR WINGS! SPREAD YOUR WINGS!"

Each chant came with a burst of fire behind her. Even Judy, who usually never shouted in a crowd, was screaming the words now eyes wide, hand over her heart.

"UNLEASH YOUR RAGE!"

"SHOW THEM WE DON’T BELONG IN A CAGE!"

Valerie’s fingers struck the strings with fire, her guitar roaring in perfect harmony with Ethan’s deep, soulful bassline. Their tones braided together like a call and answer raw, defiant, alive. Alba’s hands danced across the keyboard, her light, crystalline notes weaving through the thunder like wind through a storm. Then came the line they all felt in their bones:

“WE JUST RISE AGAIN!”

The final section hit like a battle cry, every note sharpened by purpose.

“RISE AGAIN!”

A spotlight burst overhead, drenching the stage in white fire…

“RISE AGAIN!!”

…and the crowd erupted with it, a hundred voices echoing back that promise to never fall for long.

The final word wasn’t sung, it was roared. A war cry that cracked through the silence beyond the trees. The entire crowd stood now, fists in the air, tears on cheeks, grit in every breath.

"WE WILL RISE!"

The screen behind her burst into full flame a phoenix reborn, wings outstretched in defiance as embers scattered into the night.

Then silence.

No fade out, and no slow wind down.

Just Valerie standing there, chest heaving, sweat across her brow, the mic trembling slightly in her grip.

The silence didn’t last long.

It was shattered by the kind of roar that could crack mountains. Every voice shouted her name. Every hand reached for her like she’d pulled them all from the fire.

Judy stood, whispering, “You never stop rising, do you…”

The crowd’s roar still echoed like thunder across the trees when Valerie placed the mic in the stand, and took a step back, brushing her fingers along her jaw to ground herself.

The stage dimmed to soft gold. Only the stars above and the afterglow of the phoenix remained.

Valerie took a breath. Not for show just to steady her hands.

Her gaze swept the crowd until it caught Judy’s. One look was enough. Then to Sera and Sandra hands clasped, eyes wide. Then finally to Ainara, standing with her head bowed in quiet respect.

Valerie leaned into the mic, voice low and raw.

“My brother was always my guardian. I know you’re watching from above, Vince. This one’s for you.”

Her hand tapped twice against her chest, and she nodded toward the ceiling of stars.

The guitar kicked in soft, slower now. Not broken, just grieving, and healing. Strings plucked like memories pulled from dust.

"You weren’t just a brother…You were every hand I never had…"

Her voice was thinner now, not weak, but bare. She wasn’t singing to a crowd. She was singing to the past.

The screen behind her faded into flickering stills, old images styled like fading polaroids. A dirt trail through the Badlands. A pair of worn boots. Two kids walking with shadows too big for their years. A hand on a broken-down engine. A rusted bike rebuilt from scrap.

"In a world too rough for childhood…You taught me how to stand…"

The crowd was silent. Not still some rocked gently in place, others wiped their eyes, but no one dared speak.

"Tucked your fear behind your eyes…So I could sleep through the cries…"

"Even when you broke inside…You held the line for me…"

Valerie's voice caught on that last line. She didn’t break, but she breathed through it, eyes glassy, jaw locked tight.

The screen shifted now just shadows, silhouettes of a girl and her brother beneath a blood-orange sky. A moment frozen in time, preserved only in memory.

"You said, 'Kid, you fight for every breath…You live loud, even near death…'"

A beat.

"And when I wanted to give in…You were the fire beneath my skin…"

Sera squeezed Sandra’s hand harder, whispering, “That’s how she looked at me the day she pulled me from the Shiv wreckage.” Judy, next to them, nodded silently, not looking away from Valerie.

"You were my shield, my guiding star…The reason I made it this far…"

"You carved the path, you lit the flame…And I still carry your name…"

As she sang, Valerie lifted old Bakker patches from beneath her shirt dangled like a necklace hers, and Vince’s. They glinted beneath the soft light.

"Though you're gone, you're not apart…You’re the beat behind my heart…"

"My Guardian, still watching me…In every step I choose to be…"

The lights behind her pulsed gently like a heartbeat. Not theatrical. Intimate.

Then the second verse began, picking up with a kind of worn affection grit wrapped in gold.

"Taught me how to fix a wheel…How to aim and never kneel…"

"You smiled once, said, 'Don’t look back…The past don’t cut you any slack.'"

The crowd murmured not with words, but with shared memories. People shifted, moved closer to the ones they came with. Arms around shoulders. Heads leaning in.

"We bled, we ran, we found a way…In all that wreckage, you chose to stay…"

"And every scar I’ve ever worn…is proof I’m more than just what’s torn…"

Her voice thickened here, each lyric feeling like it was tattooed into her soul before she ever sang it.

"I see you in the mirror’s stare…Your voice is in the midnight air…"

"And when the world tries to forget…I close my eyes and feel you yet…"

A long, slow inhale through the mic.

Then the chorus returned like an embrace.

"You were my shield, my guiding star…The reason I made it this far…"

"You carved the path, you lit the flame…And I still carry your name…"

The screen flickered again this time, showing a younger Valerie silhouetted beside Vince’s grave. A field, a dusk sky, and a promise made in silence.

"Though you're gone, you're not apart…You’re the beat behind my heart…"

"My Guardian, always near…The voice I’ll always hear…"

Silence held the final word like a soft hand on the shoulder.

Then came the last lines not sung with volume, but with finality. Peace.

"I hope I made you proud, big brother…Still walk the road you gave no other…"

"And when I finally reach the end…I’ll find you there, my oldest friend…"

The light on Valerie slowly faded to soft blue. A breeze stirred through the amphitheater as if even the wind paused to listen.

Alba’s fingers moved with reverence across the keys, coaxing a haunting melody from the synth soft, almost prayerful. Her tune floated like memory through the amphitheater, each note suspended in quiet devotion. Then, as if answering grief with defiance, Valerie’s guitar struck its chord, rich and aching. Ethan’s bass joined in, grounding the melody with a deep, emotional thrum, and Paz followed a heartbeat later, his drums rolling in like thunder beneath the sorrow. Together, they surged into remembrance of Vincent.

“You were my shield, my guiding star…”

The music swelled.

“The reason I made it this far…”

Each lyric a tribute, each note a pulse of love enduring.

“You carved the path, you lit the flame…”

Valerie’s voice trembled just once, then steadied.

“And I still carry your name…”

The crowd listened in silence, breathing with her.

“Though you’re gone, you’re not apart…”

“You’re the beat behind my heart…”

“My Guardian, always near…”

“The voice I’ll always hear.”

As the final line drifted out into the night air, the instruments held the echo a moment longer letting love, loss, and legacy all hang between the stars.

When the final note dissolved, the crowd didn’t cheer right away.

They stood. Silent, and reverent.

Judy wiped her eyes without shame. Sera pressed her head against Sandra’s shoulder. Panam crossed her arms and stared at the sky, jaw clenched like someone trying not to cry. Even Ainara bowed her head, whispering something no one could hear.

Valerie didn’t speak. She just held the patches in her palm and kissed them once before tucking them back beneath her shirt.

Then the light faded out, the screen went dark, and the night held them all for a breathless moment.

The light hadn’t returned yet. Only a low hum rolled through the amphitheater more wind than sound.

Valerie took a breath. It trembled.

She stepped forward again, head down, letting the moment sit with her before lifting her gaze to meet the crowd. Her hand wrapped around the mic stand, not tight, just holding it like something rooted.

“I didn’t have parents growing up,” she said, voice thick but steady. “Just my brother. And the road. This song’s about being a young Nomad... and learning to survive under the desert skies.”

No preamble, no polish, just the truth.

A low drone began behind her. Deep, metallic echoes like an engine purring in the distance. Then the slow picking of a resonator guitar slid in, twangy and spare ghosts of old Nomad stations and miles of wind-battered asphalt.

The spotlight faded up in a warm, dusty amber, casting her shadow long behind her.
Valerie closed her eyes and let a deep, resonating hum slip from her throat, a low, sacred hymn that lingered in the stillness like the hush before a storm. The crowd held its breath as her voice rose just enough to touch the rafters, vibrating with something older than words. Only once it settled did she strum the first aching chord and begin to sing.

"Raised on rust and silence wide
Dust-stained boots and nowhere to hide
No lullabies, no guiding hand
Just broken roads and burning sand…"

The crowd swayed not to a beat, but to a memory they could feel bleeding from every word.

Behind Valerie, the screen lit up again not memories this time, but abstract textures: cracked dirt, sun-scorched metal, the endless curve of a Badlands highway disappearing into haze.

"The wind taught me how to stand
With blistered feet and calloused hands…"

Her voice dipped lower here, rougher, like gravel sliding under boots. There was no theatrical effort, just a woman remembering what it took to become one.

"Desert skies, you knew my name
Branded me with fire and flame
No cradle song, no promised land
Just steel in my spine and grit in my stand
I wasn’t born I was made
Beneath desert skies that never fade…"

The amber light shifted slightly, simulating a slow-motion sunrise behind her. You could almost feel the dry heat coming off it, the sharp sting of sunburned wind.

In the crowd, Judy had one arm draped around Sera’s shoulder, both of them locked in silence. Panam looked like someone who’d lived the same lyrics. Ainara stood like a sentinel, arms crossed but her expression softened like remembering old echoes she didn’t speak aloud.

"Scavenged peace from shattered bone
Learned to fight with fists alone
My brother’s shadow, the closest light
But even he knew I’d survive the night…"

The visual behind Valerie shifted again to brief glimpses of a younger Nomad girl beneath the skeletal frame of a gutted car. A child learning to wire a power cell with dirt on her cheeks and fire in her eyes.

"The stars were cold, the days were long
But I learned to bleed and still stay strong…"

Her vocals thickened again here, not from strain, but emotion. A quiet vow barely held back.

Behind her, Ethan’s bass let out a slow, mournful thrum low and steady like a heartbeat under grief. Each note hung heavy in the air, grounding her voice in something raw and unspoken. Paz followed in perfect sync, his drums a soft cadence at first, almost like distant thunder on the horizon, then rising in slow intensity, every strike echoing like footsteps through memory.

The stage pulsed with restraint power waiting beneath the surface, held in check only by the intimacy of her words.

"Desert skies, you watched me grow
From nothing but a name below
Taught me how to shape the pain
Into something no storm could claim
I didn’t break I became
Under desert skies without a name…"

By now, the crowd wasn’t just listening. They were living it. You could feel it in the stillness, the reverence. People holding hands without realizing it, nodding along like those words came from somewhere in their own marrow.

"No one paved the way I chose
Every scar, a line I wrote
I made a life out of the fight
And I never asked the sky for light…"

She tilted her head back slightly, letting that line hang her face, a silhouette carved in firelight.

"Desert skies, you made me whole
Etched my fire into my soul
The wind still hums my childhood song
Of nights I feared but carried on
I’m still standing, still unclaimed
And the desert skies still know my name…"

The final chord rang out with a slow slide. A distant sound like wind sweeping across hollow steel followed it, echoing long into silence.

Valerie stood still as the lights dimmed, her voice still echoing through the mic, head bowed.

No stage antics, or spotlight bow.

Just the hush of respect as the entire amphitheater gave her a standing ovation not thunderous, but slow. Meaningful, and deep.

Jessica, tears on her cheeks, whispered to Vanessa, “That… that was her soul.”

Onstage, Valerie let herself breathe again.

The crowd was still catching its breath after “Desert Skies.” The weight of the Badlands still hung in the air when Valerie stepped back toward the mic, rolling her shoulders out like a fighter walking back into the ring.

She gave a crooked grin, wiping her forearm across her brow as the lights pulsed once in warning.

“Night City’s famous for chewing up people trying to make a name… and spitting them out.”

A few knowing cheers rumbled from the crowd, old mercs and edge-runners who knew that truth firsthand.

“Some of us,” she added, eyes sweeping the front row, “were lucky enough to fight our way out of there to keep chasing the dream.”

She pointed toward Judy in the crowd. Winked. The spotlight flickered for just a moment over Judy’s smile, one of pride, quiet fire, and too many memories behind her eyes.

Then came the hush.

A soft breath of stage fog curled around Valerie’s boots as Aniko stepped into the space between beats. Her fingers danced across the keys of the upright synth piano notes falling like raindrops on old pavement. It wasn’t flashy, just haunting. A delicate solo of ascending arpeggios and tender, hollow chords, as if the instrument itself remembered the nights they'd lost and fought to reclaim.

The crowd fell silent, caught in the stillness of it.

A heartbeat thump of bass kicked in. Ethan’s rhythm dropped with purpose, syncopated with flickering strobes like chrome reflecting neon.

Valerie’s stance shifted wider now, solid. She gripped her guitar like it was part of her ribcage, and when her voice returned, it didn’t ask permission.

It cut through like steel on steel.
A cry for the forgotten.
A love song to the survivors.

"I came in nameless
Just chrome and fire in my blood
Tried to find a place in the chaos
But the street don’t hand out love…"

The screen behind her lit up with searing images of Night City dirty alleys, glowing signs, high-rise monstrosities swallowing the sky. A slideshow of memory, stylized in monochrome red.

"Every corner was a gamble
Every fix could be your last
Woke up more in back alleys
Then I ever did in my past…"

Her guitar growled in gritty, distorted, like wires humming with tension. Valerie stepped forward, bathed in vertical slashes of crimson and electric blue.

"But I kept rising, one job at a time
Even when the credits felt like lies
Each scar carved another vow
To never let this city take me down…"

The crowd began to move not moshing, not dancing, just rising to the pulse of survival etched into every word. It wasn’t a song for victory. It was a hymn for the ones still here.

"Night City dreams, forged in smoke and steel
Where the truth gets lost and nothing feels real
But I clawed my way from blood and schemes
Built my name from shattered dreams
I didn’t break, I became
In the city that kills without shame…"

In the audience, Sera leaned into Sandra’s side, mouthing the lyrics. Vanessa and Jessica had their arms around each other. Ainara hadn’t blinked once her jaw clenched, eyes wet, pride drawn into every line on her face.

"Lost too many to silence
Watched the best of us burn out
Plugged the Relic in my head
Now I hear ghosts when I blackout…"

A ripple moved through the crowd, but for Johnny it hit like a gut punch.

Johnny leaned forward in his seat, jaw tight, knuckles flexing against the arms of the chair. No cigarette, no swagger, just raw stillness. That line wasn't a metaphor to him. It was a memory. He stared at the stage like he was watching a reflection of himself echo back through time.

Beside him, Kerry exhaled slowly, his hand tapping Johnny’s knee. A small grounding gesture subtle, but familiar. He didn’t speak. Didn’t need to. His eyes were misted, the corners pulled tight with something unspoken.

They both knew the weight of ghosts.

The projection flickered violently now flash-cuts of chrome veins, scanlines, Johnny’s blurry silhouette. Valerie’s voice dipped low. Guttural.

"But even with the world collapsing
I kept one hand on the wheel
'Cause in this place of flickering masks
I swore I'd stay real…"

Her hand gripped the mic tighter, the knuckles white.

"Didn’t need to be a legend
Just someone who wouldn’t fall
And in the end I found more
Then I dared to call…"

Behind her, images slowed Judy's smile in the glow of Lizzie’s, the reflection of moonlight on a rooftop, her silhouette bleeding light.

"Night City dreams, built on wire and pain
Where the sun don’t shine, just acid rain
But I fought like hell with bloodied hands
And held the line when no one else could stand
I didn’t fade, I stayed
In the city that takes more than it gave…"

Valerie spread her arms wide, breathing hard, standing defiant beneath a kaleidoscope of flickering cityscapes.

"Through Mox fights and Corpo lies
Through friends turned ghosts and bloodshot skies
I found one light, steady and true
And I held on like she told me to…"

A close-up shimmered behind her Judy's hand holding Valerie’s on a balcony, both battered but strong, intertwined under the stars.

"Night City dreams, I bled for them all
But I rose up every time I’d fall
In a city made to crush your soul
I found my heart, I found my goal…"

Her voice cracked on purpose or accident, it didn’t matter. It was real.

"Didn’t need the glory, just the flame
And someone to whisper my name
I didn’t break, I became
In the city that never remembers your name…"

The lights cut leaving a single amber glow over Valerie’s back as she bowed her head.

The crowd stood in absolute silence for a long breath before applause broke like a wave.

Judy wiped her cheek with her thumb. Then smiled. “That’s my girl.”

The final notes of Night City Dreams echoed into a slow dissolve, fading beneath the thunder of applause that rose like a stormfront. Valerie stood still in the dark, her chest rising and falling with the weight of every word just sung, shoulders gleaming with sweat beneath the low amber haze.

She didn’t speak right away.

Just breathed.

She let the silence roll in not emptiness, but reverence. A sacred pause, where the echoes of Night City still haunted the walls, and the people who survived it looked around and knew they weren’t alone.

Then the lights slowly lifted soft violet hues spilling back over the stage, and Valerie stepped up to the mic again, voice rough from emotion but edged with fire.

“I see you,” she said, eyes scanning the sea of faces. “Every soul here who fought, who crawled, who got chewed up and spit out but still came back swinging.”

Her hand moved to her chest, tapping twice over her heart.

“That one was for all of us. For everyone who didn’t get out… and for the ones who did.”

Cheers erupted again not the explosive kind, but the kind that felt like solidarity. Real, and grounded. She smiled, and her hand didn’t drop from her heart.

“That city tried to break me. Tried to take everything. But I had someone to fight for. And I held on.”

In the front row, Judy nodded slowly. Her arms were crossed over the guard rail, chin resting on her forearm. She didn’t smile this time, just watched, quiet and proud. Sandra leaned into Sera’s shoulder, whispering something that made her wife smirk and bump her knee playfully.

Panam stood, and raised her flask in a low salute. Vicky stood beside her with her hand landing on Panam’s shoulder smiling as she looked at the stage.

Jessica and Vanessa had found each other’s fingers during the last chorus and hadn’t let go since. Ainara stood at the end of the row, unmoving, her lips parted slightly in awe, her gaze fixed on the woman she once taught how to aim straight and breathe through the pain.

Valerie looked down, the corner of her mouth twitching like she was trying not to cry.

“We’re gonna slow it down for the next set. We’ve been through fire, steel, and storm... but now we’re gonna talk about something harder.”

She stepped back from the mic. Grabbed a bottle of water off the amp, cracked it open with one hand. Took a sip. Let herself breathe.

A soft instrumental backing swelled gently from the speakers, a warm harmony of Alba on keys and Aniko on piano, their melodies weaving together like a slow exhale after a storm.

Alba’s synths shimmered with ambient tones, while Aniko’s piano carried a grounding, emotional rhythm beneath. Together, they painted the air with twilight hues, like the slow fall of evening after the blood-orange burn of the city.

Valerie turned toward the band behind her and gave a subtle nod. They nodded back. No words needed.

She walked toward a simple stool now set at center stage, the mic stand already lowered and angled toward her mouth. A single spotlight followed her steps.

As she sat, the crowd began to quiet again.

“I wanna tell you about someone who never gave up on me,” she said softly. “Someone who made me believe again.”

She looked upward briefly, her voice dipping into a whisper.

She scanned the front row again, eyes landing on Judy.

“You already know who you are.”

Her voice dropped low.

“Next one’s not about war. It’s about surviving it with someone who never left.”

She gave the crowd a slow nod as she adjusted the mic stand downward, setting the mood.

“Let’s talk about what it really means to find love through loss.”

Then she strummed the first tender chord letting it hang in the hush.

The lights dimmed again this time softer, warmer. No lasers, no fire, no pulsebeat strobe. Just a slow amber wash from overhead, casting a gold outline around Valerie’s figure like dawn breaking over shadowed ruins.

She stood there with her guitar cradled against her, head bowed not in weariness, but in reverence.

The crowd leaned forward, instinctively sensing the shift. From the front row to the balcony, they quieted, caught in the gravity of the moment.

She didn’t speak right away.

Her fingers brushed a slow, melancholic chord. A hum of resonance drifted into the air weightless and infinite.

Then her voice found the room. Not with force, but with truth.

"I was ashes
Scattered in a world gone cold..."

A hush fell across the club like velvet. Judy’s breath caught in her throat. Sera reached out and gripped Sandra’s hand tightly without realizing it. Ainara’s eyes shimmered.

"Carving dreams from the wreckage
Never letting go..."

Valerie didn’t just sing. She bled into every word. Her eyes weren’t on the crowd, or the lights, or the haze that hung from the rafters.

They were locked on Judy, and Judy was already crying.

"Didn’t ask for saving
Didn’t know I could feel..."

The notes lingered just behind her voice like ghost trails. Her left hand danced the neck of the guitar, soft and sure. The melody wasn’t complex, but it didn’t need to be. It was the kind that burrowed into your ribs and stayed there.

"But your touch turned the silence
Into something real..."

The projection screen behind her bloomed without warning. It didn’t show past battles. It didn’t show chrome or fire.

It showed moments.

Fleeting smiles. Shared glances. Judy and Valerie on a rooftop under rain. A slow kiss in the backseat of the Shion. Judy standing behind Valerie with her arms wrapped around Valerie’s waist overlooking the Ocean. A birthday morning in bed. Images of a life filled with love.

The audience didn’t need names. The love was unmistakable.

"We found love through loss
Through fire and pain
In a city built to break us
We rose again..."

Her voice rose like a tide not to shout, but to lift. The guitar followed, gaining strength without volume, growing brighter.

"Every scar
Every shadow we crossed
Led me home to your heart
We found love through loss..."

From the edge of the crowd, Panam wiped a tear. Vicky had her arm around her. Jessica had leaned into Vanessa’s shoulder, mouthing the chorus under her breath. A couple standing near the bar stood silently, heads bowed in respect.

"I saw ghosts in chrome reflections
Lived on borrowed time
But you kissed the fear
Out of every line..."

Judy’s lips parted silent, but she mouthed it with her.

"We danced through the static
We dared to dream
You’re the calm in the chaos
My only peace..."

Valerie’s hand trembled on the frets, but her voice never wavered, and in that moment, she didn’t just look like a star.

She looked like someone who had survived everything the world could throw at her, and still came out singing.

"Didn’t need a promise
Just the way you stayed
When the world fell down
You never looked away..."

The screen faded into one image: a close-up of Judy laughing, wind in her hair, sitting on a dock beside Valerie’s guitar case.

The crowd exhaled.

"We found love through loss
Through fire and pain
In a city built to break us
We rose again..."

The lights warmed. A soft glow touched her from the floor now, gold and violet, like the inside of a lantern.

"Every scar
Every shadow we crossed
Led me home to your heart
We found love through loss..."

Her voice lowered, almost a whisper.

"Lotus bloom
Where the blood once ran
Two roses for the lives
We couldn’t plan..."

Judy stood slowly in the crowd, hands over her mouth, tears streaking both cheeks.

"But I’d do it all again
Just to see you stand
Right here
Right now
With your hand in my hand..."

Valerie reached one hand off the guitar toward the crowd. Her voice cracked, but it didn’t falter.

"We found love through loss
Through tears and flame
Through the nights we thought we’d never reclaim..."

The audience rose to their feet in silence. No one spoke. No one dared to.

"But here we are
No more lines to cross
Only light in your eyes
We found love..."

Her final breath was a sigh into the mic, like smoke curling into the heavens.

"...Through loss."

Then silence.

Not the empty kind, but the sacred kind.

It held for a beat. Then another, and then the crowd exploded.

Not in frenzy, or in madness. But in raw, full-bodied love.

The kind that made the walls hum. The kind that filled every corner of the amphitheater, and spilled into the streets. The kind that echoed through the bones of the city that once tried to kill her.

Valerie Alvarez didn’t bow.

She just looked at Judy and smiled, and Judy smiled back.

The applause from the last song had faded, not with sudden silence, but like the ocean retreating into itself leaving behind the echo of something sacred.

Valerie stood at center stage with her head bowed again. No lights shifted. No pyros. Just the hush of hearts still beating in sync.

She took a slow step back from the mic and ran her fingers across the top of her guitar, breathing deep, as if the instrument itself needed a moment to recover.

Then, she glanced up, and found Judy again in the crowd.

The lights caught her emerald eyes like mirrors reflecting moonlight. Valerie’s chest rose as if she’d been holding that gaze in her lungs.

“I used to think love was something you had to earn. Like a prize, or a mission you completed,” she said, her voice a low hush through the mic, barely above the crowd’s breath.

A quiet ripple moved through the audience stillness, reverence.

“But she…she proved me wrong. Every damn day.”

She strummed once. A minor chord. Then another, softer, echoing out like a heartbeat.

“I’ve died,” Valerie said quietly. “And I came back. I’ve watched the world collapse from the inside. And the only thing that ever made sense… was her. She always got me through locked in a lover's embrace.”

Aniko’s fingers danced lightly across the keys, coaxing out a tender piano melody gentle, haunting, and full of space between each note. The tune lingered, trailing off like a breath held too long, hanging in the stillness just before Valerie’s next words.

Valerie’s fingers returned to the strings.

"Feels like I'm suffocating
Like I can't go on..."

Her voice was trembling, but not weak. It was vulnerable. Wide open. It curled out from the stage and wrapped around every soul in the club.

"When I look into your eyes
I'm not afraid..."

Her eyes hadn’t left Judy once.

"Wrapped inside your embrace
I know I can go on..."

Judy had stopped trying to fight the tears. She didn’t care who saw anymore. Jessica’s hand was on her shoulder. Ainara was wiping her own eyes beside Vanessa. Even Vicky clutched Panam’s fingers tightly, mouthing “holy shit” under her breath.

"When my spirit’s breaking
You are the one to pull me through
Never had a love feel this true..."

The crowd swayed not in rhythm, but in emotion. Couples held each other. Strangers touched each other's shoulders. The kind of togetherness music rarely earns.

"Baby, how much more can I say
I’ll always fight for you
Right by your side..."

The stage lights warmed to a golden dusk tone, like late-day sunlight hitting the kitchen table of a home you'd never want to leave.

"Darling don't be afraid
I love you more each day
In a lover’s embrace we will stay..."

As her final word lingered in the air, Valerie’s fingers slid into a gentle guitar riff soft, intimate, like a whispered promise set to melody. The notes weren’t meant to dazzle. They soothed. A quiet pulse of devotion in every chord.

Behind her, the projection screen flickered to life. Not flashy, not glamour, just life. Raw, unstaged moments. Valerie and Judy slow dancing barefoot in the kitchen. A shared glance over coffee. Sera laughing in the backseat of a beat-up of the rig. The kind of memories that never asked for an audience, but now had one.

Judy asleep on Valerie’s chest.

Sera curled up between them on a rainy morning.

Panam grinning beside Valerie in a garage. Vanessa and Jessica decorating a table for one of Sera’s birthdays. Wild, warm, real.

And through it all: Valerie and Judy, always returning to each other.

"Tell me in another life
You'll still find me
Even if the stars don't align..."

Valerie’s voice cracked slightly on “you’ll still find me”, but she didn’t run from it. She leaned into the emotion like it was part of the song itself.

"With every breath we’ll still go on
From every battle won
Til the sun is fading
Your light will always shine on..."

Judy’s hand came to her lips. She whispered something no one heard except Valerie, who smiled in return like she did.

"Darling don't be afraid
I love you more each day
In a lover’s embrace we will stay..."

The guitar softened. The drums had fallen away entirely now, just ambient tones beneath like a warm breeze.

"When the rain is falling
You're my shelter from the storm..."

Images on the screen shifted. Valerie and Judy running through the Badlands rain. Laughing in a broken-down rig. Holding hands in a flickering medcenter hallway.

"We rode it out together
Not knowing which day would be our last..."

The music stilled for just a moment, just a breath and then…

"From Night City streets
To the Oregon mountain view
We built our home
Just me, and you
Stay with me now
Forever and always..."

The screen faded to black. And one line appeared in soft, handwritten text:

“For Judy. Always.”

"Darling don't be afraid
I love you more each day
In a lover’s embrace we will stay..."

Valerie’s voice lowered to a whisper, the crowd now holding its collective breath.

"In a lover’s embrace we will stay..."

A single note. Sustained, and then silence.

Valerie gently rested her guitar by the amp and stepped back from the mic, her chest visibly rising with emotion.

No applause yet.

Judy stood slowly, quietly, and pressed her hand over her heart.

Valerie mirrored it on stage.

In that unspoken gesture, every word of the song echoed louder than sound.

Then the room erupted not wild or chaotic, but deep. From the soul. The kind of applause that came from people who understood that they’d just witnessed someone pour their entire life into a melody.

For Judy it wasn’t a performance.

It was a vow.

The lights dimmed again, but this time slower, as if even the air knew what was coming. The crowd was quieter now not from exhaustion, but reverence. The kind that settles into your bones when you’ve been carried somewhere you didn’t expect to go.

Valerie stood still under the single spotlight, her shoulders relaxed but her fingers tight on the mic stand. Her guitar rested on a side hook. No instruments needed this time. The music would come from the soul.

She looked down for a moment, her lips parting, but the words didn’t come yet. Just the breath before them.

“I died once,” she finally said into the silence.

The crowd didn’t move. Didn’t blink. Not a sound came from them, just hearts waiting.

Valerie’s voice was steady, even as emotion thickened it. “I died. And not in the poetic sense. Not some heartbreak, not some metaphor. I died.”

Judy’s hand clutched her heart again, like she was holding in a scream that only she had the right to release.

Valerie’s voice softened.

“But she… brought me back.”

She looked at Judy.

“And not with science. Not with chrome. With love.”

A soft, almost imperceptible hum began. Digital ambiance, like the hum of ancient machines layered over heartbeats. Mikoshi’s chamber in the background.

Valerie didn’t sing the first line.

She breathed it.

"I felt the silence before the end
Not a sound, not a breath, not even pain
Just the hush of digital rain
Falling soft where my name once had weight…"

Behind her, the screen shimmered with a gentle rain of white light. Not real rain. Not even data. Just a simulation of how memory might feel when it’s breaking apart.

"Mikoshi took me in cold hands
Fractured thought and broken strands
I was fading, piece by piece
'Til your voice pulled me from the breach…"

The lights caught the shimmer of Valerie’s hair as she leaned into the final note of the verse. Behind her, the projection flickered with fractured visuals, Mikoshi's sterile corridors, glitching code, a silhouette falling backward into digital static.

In the crowd, Johnny froze.
No grin, or ironic tilt of his head. Just… stillness.

His shades weren’t pushed up for once, revealing eyes that weren’t mocking or hard, but distant, like they were looking through the stage and into the breach itself.

He swallowed hard.
The line hit like a shard of ice straight to the spine.
That was the moment Alt’s hands, cold and clinical, splitting his psyche like a faultline.
Judy’s voice pulled Valerie’s mind out from the same pit he’d never truly escaped.

His hand flexed at his side almost reflexively like some buried muscle memory of pain and rebirth. The lights flickered gold across his face, catching the faint twitch of a jaw clenched too long.

He didn’t cheer. Didn’t blink. Just watched her like she was a ghost singing him back to life.

The audience felt it that moment. When the song shifted. The first heartbeat. The first pulse back from the brink. Valerie’s voice rose, but not with force. With meaning.

"You gave a soul for my life
Reached through code and sacrifice
When the lights went dim and I disappeared
You burned through the dark, made the path clear…"

Behind her, the image of a blooming lotus emerged slowly from the visual fog. Two crossed roses rested at its heart.

"Not just data, not just flame
You brought me back, still the same
In the echoes of that final fight
You gave a soul for my life…"

Judy’s eyes were fixed on the stage. One hand covered her mouth now, and the other squeezed Ainara’s without words. Vanessa reached around to wrap Judy’s shoulders in support.

"Lotus blooms from mud and grief
So did I from memory’s reef
A flicker in the circuitry
Still me, still flesh, still free…"

A low synth baseline emerged, delicate and swelling like a body relearning how to breathe. The light above Valerie warmed to a pulse matching her cadence gold, then violet, then back to pale white.

"I saw the world in fading frames
But you held on, whispered my name
And when I thought I’d lost my place
Your love became my saving grace…"

She stepped forward from the mic. No instruments behind her. Just her voice and the memory of death. The memory of being pulled back.

"You gave a soul for my life
Held me tight past death and time
In the silence where all hope had drowned
Your heartbeat was the only sound…"

Judy couldn’t stay seated anymore. She stood slowly, reverently, and didn’t care who saw her crying. Sandra and Sera rose beside her.

"Not just chrome, not just light
You saw me, and made it right
In the hollow space where I lost the fight
You gave a soul for my life…"

The sound built behind Valerie strings rising, subtle percussion like the rhythm of a pulse returning to a sleeping chest.

"I remember the moment I woke
Not to sirens, but to your hope
Your tears on my skin, your hand on my chest
A voice saying ‘you’re safe, just rest’…"

Every head in the crowd seemed to tilt slightly forward, as if they were catching her breath on the wind.

"You gave a soul for my life
Pulled me home through fire and night
When the world forgot who I had been
You stitched me back from within…"

"No angels, no divine sign
Just your love, your will, your spine
And now I breathe, I burn, I rise
Because you gave a soul for my life…"

The projection faded to black once again. A final line appeared, this time in Valerie’s voice, not sung, not read, just spoken.

“I died once…
And you…
You made sure I lived again.”

A soft chime marked the end, and the crowd didn’t cheer immediately. They couldn’t. The silence was too full.

Then Judy whispered something under her breath. A single word: “Always.”

The crowd erupted.

Cheers hit like a shockwave, roars of catharsis, of awe, of something too deep for words. Hands slammed together, feet stomped, someone even shouted her name like it was a vow.

Valerie lowered her head again, wiped the corner of her eye, and let the noise pour over her like light through glass. She didn’t hide the emotion. She didn’t need to. Not tonight.

Out in the crowd, Johnny stood frozen in place.

Everyone else moved, shouting, hugging, recording, breaking apart from the weight of what they’d just heard, but Johnny just stared. His arms hung loose at his sides, his expression unreadable at first… until it cracked.

A small nod. Subtle. Barely there, but real.

The look in his eyes was stripped of every wall, every edge. It wasn’t just approval. It was understanding. A quiet salute from one soul who’d crawled back from digital death to another who sang her way through it.

Beside him, Kerry had his arm raised in triumph, whooping with the rest of them, but when he looked over at Johnny, he stopped.

Johnny didn’t meet his gaze.

He was still watching Valerie. Like he was seeing someone survive what he hadn’t.
Maybe, just maybe, finding a little peace in the fact that she did.

The stage bathed in pale lavender light.

A soundscape filled the room, gentle wind, a rustle of leaves, a birdcall so faint you’d think it was just a memory. The screen behind Valerie didn’t explode with visuals this time it bloomed. Slow aerial sweeps of pine-covered hills and misty dawns curled across it like a living painting. The Oregon sky stretching wide and quiet.

Valerie stepped forward, fingers brushing the mic stand as she adjusted it with quiet precision. The amphitheater was still vibrating from the last song, but she didn’t rush.

She glanced out over the crowd, waves of shadow and light, faces lifted, eyes wide. The air felt thick with something electric, fragile.

She took one more breath.
Settled her stance, and leaned in.

The room settled into a hush no one dared break it.

For the first time since the opening number, Valerie smiled. Not the defiant smirk. Not the flash of adrenaline.

Just a real smile.

“This next one…” she said softly, “isn’t for the city, the fire, or even the fight.”

She looked at Judy.

“It’s for what came after. Seeing the view atop the world.”

The first notes rang out like warm sunlight through morning fog, gentle, slow and steady.

Aniko was the first to join her, fingers gliding across the grand piano like ripples on a still lake. The melody she built beneath Valerie’s chords was light, haunting, and heartbreakingly graceful, never trying to lead, only support. Her blue hair glinted under the soft stage lights, head tilted in quiet focus, the notes almost breathing through her.

Alba followed on keys, her Nomad flair showing in the way she layered her part earthy, textured, like wind passing through desert canyons. Her fingers swayed gently over glowing touchpads, sculpting atmospheric harmonies that felt like homelike sky, and space, and silence where peace finally lived.

Ethan’s bass was subtle, just a heartbeat beneath it all, thumb sliding smooth along the strings in a rhythm so natural it felt like breathing. He didn’t look up, lost in the groove, free-spirited grin softened into reverence as he let the tone speak for him.

Paz laid-back, ever the rocker had traded his usual hard strikes for brushes on the snare. Each sweep was like sand shifting underfoot. Restraint wasn't his usual mode, but tonight he held it like a sacred thing, his head nodding gently in time, a small smile hidden beneath long bangs.

Then Valerie’s voice joined.

Clear, wistful, and full of reverence.

Like a love letter written not in ink, but in sound, and just like that, the amphitheater held its breath not because of spectacle, but because of truth.

“The wind moves softer here
No sirens, no shadows near
Just the hush of leaves and breath of pine
And a peace I never thought I’d find.”

The background visual slowly revealed a digital rendering of their lakeside home, the back porch swing rocking gently, a hanging plant swaying. Windows glowing. The family’s story etched into the architecture like veins in stone.

“I wake before the sun some days
Coffee in hand, hearts still ablaze
You by my side, no rush, no call
Just us, and this life we made from it all.”

Valerie took in the moment.

“This is the view from atop the world
Not sky towers, chrome, or gold
But laughter at dusk, your hand in mine
A house light in the dark that shines”

A soft harmony joined her Alba on keys, blending her tones like silk thread through linen. She didn’t sing, but her fingers spoke for her, layering gentle chords beneath Valerie’s voice in a way that felt like memory made audible. An echo of the same words Valerie had whispered on that deck a hundred times only now, the world was listening.

“We’ve bled, we’ve lost, we’ve fought to grow
Now look at how the wildflowers grow
Every scar, every climb, every road we swirled
Brought me here to a view atop the world”

The crowd swayed. Not in rhythm just emotionally. As if they could feel the stillness of that lake. The quiet strength of choosing peace.

“We hung our coats on cedar nails
Taught each other how to fail
And try again without the gun
No contracts, no need to run”

The background showed a carved wooden wall with tiny inscriptions barely legible: “V + J = Home.” “Sera, 13.” “First snow. First dance. First peace.”

“Our daughter’s laughter fills the halls
Our names carved deep in weathered walls
We didn’t just escape the past
We buried it, and built something that lasts.”

Valerie’s voice lingered, but she strummed the chords again.

“This is the view from atop the world
Not neon lights or data swirls
But moonlight slow-dancing on the lake
And promises we’ll never break.”

The screen shifted to a slow-motion image: Valerie and Judy dancing barefoot on the dock, Sera chasing fireflies in the background. It wasn’t posed. It was real. Captured from one of their quiet nights.

“We’ve burned, we’ve healed, we’ve dared to grow
Now feel how soft the seasons flow
Every step, every wound that unfurled
Led us home to a view atop the world.”

The Lakehouse glistened in a stunning visual.

Judy wiped her eyes with both hands. Vanessa leaned her head on Jessica’s shoulder. Sera clung to Sandra’s hand, whispering, “That’s our house.”

“I used to think survival was enough
But love like this—it’s the real tough stuff
To stay, to choose, to live with grace
To let peace take the bullet’s place.”

Valerie’s voice cracked just slightly, but she let it. Let it linger raw.

“This is the view from atop the world
No crowns, no scores, just a girl
Who found her heart in your embrace
And etched our story in this place.”

“The war is done, the road’s gone still
Yet every breath is a quiet thrill
'Cause after everything fate ever hurled
I found you, atop the world.”

A final swell. The backdrop faded to black save one golden light.

Their porch light.

“Let the world keep spinning wild and fast
We’ve already found forever at last.”

The guitar stopped. But her voice stayed one last moment whispered. “At Last.”

The silence afterward didn’t feel empty.

It felt earned.

The final note of “A View From Atop the World” faded like a breath held between lifetimes.

The crowd didn’t cheer right away. No one wanted to shatter the stillness. A hundred bodies caught in a single heartbeat, processing what they’d just been allowed to witness not just music, but memory.

Up in the front row, Judy had both hands pressed against her mouth, elbows on her knees. Her eyes were glassy and locked on Valerie like nothing else in the world existed. Sera sat leaned against Sandra’s shoulder, whispering, “That one’s my favorite.”

Panam leaned back with a quiet exhale. “Shit,” she muttered, wiping under one eye. “She really did it.”

Vicky didn’t even bother hiding her tears. She was already reaching over to hold Jessica’s hand.

Valerie sat still onstage, the guitar resting across her lap, her fingertips curled gently along its neck. She didn’t speak for a long time. Didn’t move.

Then she stood in front of the mic, and looked out across the sea of faces. She nodded once then again like grounding herself.

Then, quietly, as if confessing to an old friend:

“I used to think there’d never be a ‘someday.’ Just chrome and fire and ends that come too early.”

“But Judy taught me there was more.”

The screens behind her pulsed gently with warm light like a hearth at dusk. The symbol of a lotus flower slowly unfurled behind her in shimmering purple.

“You just heard the part of the story that came after the war. After the chaos. The songs where love wasn’t a fairytale it was a choice. A fight, and a promise.”

She glanced toward the crowd, locked eyes with Judy, and smiled again. Different than before.

This one didn’t carry pain or pride.

This one held peace.

She stepped up to the mic, scanning the crowd with a half-smile cheeks flushed from the weight of the song, throat bobbing once as she swallowed back whatever tried to rise.

Then she leaned in, her voice low but steady.

“Thank you for listening to that piece of our world.”

She glanced toward the stage edge, then back to the audience, one brow lifting as her grin widened.

Then, a smirk. “But we’re not done.”

She took one step back from the mic, let the silence breathe just a bit longer then gave a gentle clap, twice.

The lights dipped low. A soft hum built beneath the stage.

The cheers began to settle, not in volume but in tone shifting from electric anticipation to something softer, something reverent. Valerie stepped forward, her fingers lightly brushing the mic stand, eyes sweeping across the sea of faces glowing under stage light.

She took a slow breath, then glanced toward the front row.

“Finding the love of your life… that’s one kind of miracle,” she said, voice steady but thick with something unspoken. “But finding a daughter who makes you whole, that's a kind of love I never expected.”

A hush fell across the audience, the kind that clung to every heartbeat.

Valerie’s gaze landed on Sera, eyes shimmering beneath the glow.

“She came into my life like a Starfall. This one’s for you, Starshine.”

She nodded once toward the techs, and the massive screen behind her bloomed into a sky of galaxies. Deep violets, radiant golds, and soft waves of nebula light spilled across the stage like breath made visible. The first piano chord struck like starlight breaking through silence.

Valerie’s silhouette stood still framed in cosmic wonder.

The crowd held their breath as the screen above Valerie bloomed with galaxies. Starlight shimmered down over the stage, casting the air in cosmic hues. She stood motionless for a beat longer, eyes shining as if lit by something far deeper than the LED wash. Her voice had cracked only slightly in the lead-in, but now it rose strong, steady, like a signal beaconing home.

The first notes of "Starfall" drifted from the piano like whispers from the void, soft and reverent.

"You were born in the dark, but you burned so bright Little laugh like lightning, heart full of fight..."

Valerie’s voice carried smooth and raw all at once, echoing through the open-air amphitheater. The crowd was absolutely still, save for the flicker of hands slowly rising with holo-phone lights, mirroring the digital starlight above.

Judy pressed a hand over her heart. Beside her, Sera stared upward, lips parted. Her name hadn’t been said outright, but she knew. She felt it.

"I was hollow, just heat barely holding on. Then you called me Mom and the shadows were gone."

The music swelled beneath her voice, a pulse of bass like a heartbeat, synths key notes rising in waves. Valerie didn’t move across the stage like before; she stood anchored, vulnerable, her hand lightly resting on the mic as if it grounded her.

"You were starshine cutting through my night Every step, you turned wrong into right..."

Images of starfields and gently rotating planets played behind her, matching the tender cadence of the lyrics. When she reached the chorus, her eyes welled, but her voice never wavered.

"Fallin’ from the sky, you lit my way even when the world tried to burn us away You’re the reason I kept climbing, kept the fight alive Starshine, you saved my life You’re my Starfall, my fire in flight."

In the front row, Judy reached for Sera’s hand. Sera didn’t hesitate. Their fingers laced together, and for a moment, the world narrowed to that single connection. The song washed over them like starlight.

"You danced through warzones, fearless and free… told me stories of hope I could barely believe… You held my hand when my mind lost track… Swore you’d bring my broken pieces back."

Tears shimmered down Sera’s cheeks. Sandra, beside her, wrapped an arm around her shoulders, holding her steady as the words reached deeper, softer places.

"Now you’ve got someone to hold you tight To chase your dreams and guard your nights But baby girl, just know this part…You’ll always be the center of my heart."

The lights dimmed slightly around Valerie. The screen overhead focused on a single swirling galaxy, rotating slow like a lullaby. Her voice fell to almost a whisper as the chorus returned, each word etched with every ounce of love she had.

"Fallin’ from the sky, you lit my way… Even when the world tried to burn us away… You’re the reason I kept climbing, kept the fight alive, Starshine, you saved my life You’re my Starfall, my fire in flight."

The bridge came with only the soft hum of Alba’s keyboard, the crowd held in silence, as though breathing too loud might shatter it.

"No matter where you fly, I’ll see your light…You’ll always be my Starfall in the night."

As the last note drifted into the ether, the stars on the screen slowly dimmed, until only one remained faint, but still burning.

Valerie touched her fingers to her lips, then raised them toward Sera.

The amphitheater roared back to life.

The stage lights dimmed again, casting the arena in a soft violet hue. Valerie stood at the center, her chest slowly rising as she let the silence linger just a little longer letting the weight of everything they’d heard so far settle into the air like ash falling after a fire.

She brought the mic close, voice a quiet murmur.

“I used to feel alone,” she said, eyes sweeping the sea of faces, so many lit by soft tears and hopeful smiles. “I just wanted somebody to know that I was here. That I mattered. I’m lucky enough to have found the people who made me realize my life did matter.”

The crowd grew silent again, not the kind of hush that came from stillness, but from reverence. Down in the front row, Judy’s hand slipped gently into Sera’s. Sandra leaned forward, chin against her knees. Vanessa and Jessica leaned shoulder-to-shoulder, both wiping a cheek in quiet unity. Even Ainara, hands clasped over her heart, closed her eyes for a moment as if whispering something only the stars could hear.

Soft strings filled the room like a rising breath. No spectacle, and no storm. Just the stillness that came before a sunrise and the honesty Valerie had only recently found the courage to sing about.

“I won’t make the history books
Or blaze through stars with gilded looks
But I was there for every fall
For every fight, for every call…”

Her voice was stripped bare.

Projected behind her, the screen showed quiet, golden glimpses of Nomad caravans crossing the Badlands. A broken-down bike. A campfire in a rusted oil drum. The kind of memories no one else would ever frame. But here, in this moment, they became sacred.

“I held the line when hearts were torn
Stood through fire, bruised and worn
But I never let go of the ones I loved
Even when the world said I should’ve run…”

Her hand rested briefly over her ribs, where her tattoo that read ‘don’t tell me I'm dying’ was inked into her skin. The spot where Judy had once placed her palm when Valerie was too broken to speak.

The screen shifted again now showing flickers of past lives: a young Sera drawing on the garage floor, Judy curled on the couch wrapped in Valerie’s arms, a quiet morning where no one looked like a hero, but everyone was safe.

“I just wanted a life that mattered
Not to everyone, just to you…”

That line floated like a prayer across the crowd. A whisper against the storm. Many in the audience let go of their breath at once, hands rising toward the stage like a silent vow that they understood.

“Not made of echoes or scattered dreams
But of mornings slow and true…”

Behind her, the imagery changed again. A slow pan of pine trees dusted with snow. The familiar porch swing. The lake that mirrored the sunrise. Their home, and her truth.

Panam had to look away for a second, brushing a hand under her eyes. Vicky gently nudged her, a silent I see you.

“If all I leave behind are the hands I held
The lives I touched, the stories we tell
Then I’ve lived, I’ve stood, I’ve shattered
And still I’ve lived a life that mattered…”

On the last word, she looked out toward the crowd. Not above them. Not through them. Into them. As if she was asking each soul out there: Do you know what it means to matter to just one person?

So many nodded back.

“I never knew what home could be
Till you carved that space inside of me
From chrome and scars, from restless days
We made a world where love still stays…”

Her voice cracked gently, but not from strain. From emotion, and the truth. She didn’t pull away from it. She let it sing out.

The screen showed a moment frozen in time Judy asleep in Valerie’s lap. Valerie fixing the porch light, laughing at a joke someone had shouted from the kitchen.

“Sera’s laughter, your voice at dawn
The smell of coffee when the fear was gone
I don’t need a monument of stone
This family’s enough to call my own…”

A soft cheer went up from the front row Jessica, fist raised, a proud grin. Sandra whispered something to Sera, who nodded quickly, overwhelmed and glowing.

“I just wanted a life that mattered
Not to headlines, just to you…”

“Not paved in credits or neon lies
But in every truth we grew…”

Valerie’s silhouette stood against the backdrop of her life, no stage pyros, no towering infernos. Just quiet images of holding on, letting go, and loving anyway.

“If all I leave behind is the way you smiled
When I walked through the door, arms open wide
Then I’ve bled, I’ve burned, I’ve scattered
But I lived a life that mattered…”

Her voice soared not from volume, but from gravity. It held weight. History. The ache of knowing how close she’d come to being erased, and the joy of knowing she hadn’t been.

“Let the world forget my name
Let my deeds fade with the rain
But when you hold each other tight
I’ll still be there in the quiet light…”

Judy stood now, hand pressed over her heart. Ainara, too. The rest of the crowd followed slowly, rising not in applause, but in communion.

“I just wanted a life that mattered
To the hearts I called my own
To be your shelter, your wild, your peace
Even long after I’m gone…”

“And if all I’ve done is love you well
Then that’s enough my story’s been held
I lived for you, I dreamed, I gathered
And in your love, I mattered…”

The last note fell like a hush after a promise. Valerie lowered the mic, lips trembling with the ghosts she’d just let breathe.

In that stillness, the entire crowd stood not with the roar of applause, but with soft, thundering respect.

For a song that didn’t demand to be remembered, but one they would never forget.

Valerie smiled into the microphone, her voice steady, but rich with pride. “Building a family was one of the greatest joys of my life. Then we built a Clan.”

She paused, letting that word hit the air like a drumbeat…Clan.

“All of us saved this city, and now we’re building communities across Oregon. If there’s any Clan Alvarez in attendance…” her eyes glinted as she raised her fist, “...let’s make some noise!”

The amphitheater erupted.

From front to back, Clan Alvarez jackets rose like flags. Denim and phoenix patches glowing under the floodlights. Screams, whistles, hands slamming chests. In every corner, people who knew what it meant to fight for something that would outlive them.

Judy grinned beside Panam, who whooped so loud Sandra jumped and started laughing. Sera lifted her arm high, flashing the lotus patch stitched into her sleeve. Even Vicky, arms crossed, cracked a proud, emotional smile.

The lights dimmed just enough to let the screen behind Valerie spark to life an old road slicing through Oregon forest, engines rumbling, laughter echoing, boots hitting dirt, and campfires rising like stars in the night.

Then the beat dropped like tires on gravel, and Valerie roared the first lines, the anthem built in metal and soul.

“We started out with rusted rigs and dreams we couldn’t name
Dust in our teeth and hearts too wild to tame…”

The band kicked in hard raw strings and deep bass like Nomad engines revving to life, each strum a spark of grit and thunder. Ethan’s bass growled beneath it all, thick and relentless, a heartbeat forged in fire. Paz followed like a storm, each drumbeat a declaration, shaking the stage like distant thunder rolling across open desert.

Valerie didn’t just sing the lyrics; she lived them. Every vowel tattooed with memory, every breath laced with scars and triumph. Her voice cut through the air, fierce and unflinching, as if every line was carved straight from the road behind them.

“No maps, no roads just the fire we carried inside
And the ones who rode beside us through every brutal ride…”

The backdrop lit up with images of battle-worn rigs, convoys streaking across dirt trails, and bikes with tail pipes burning under the stars. Clan Alvarez, shoulder to shoulder with the Aldecaldos, standing on a hilltop overlooking Klamath Falls.

“We fought for more than just a place to rest,
We built a home outta blood and outta breath…”

Valerie slammed a boot forward on the final line, head back as she sang it fists pounding to the rhythm.

“And when the silence tried to steal what we became
We shouted back and burned our name into the flame!”

All the lights behind her exploded into crimson.

The chorus kicked in, and the crowd didn’t just listen, they sang with her, a hundred voices raised in unity.

“These are the roads we travelled
These are the hands that pulled us through
This is the fire we saddled
This is the family we never knew…”

Jackets were raised like banners. Some in the crowd held up flickering lighters, others just reached for the sky. The whole place moved with the rhythm, a pulsing storm of pride and memory.

“We are the walls when the winds blow cold
We are the story still being told
This is the Clan, this is the vow
And we’re still ridin’, still ridin’ now!”

Judy was singing every word. Panam wrapped an arm around her singing in unison. Sandra, and Vicky were standing clapping their hands. Sera excitedly shouted,”That's my Mom!” throwing her first into the air. Even stoic Johnny, backlit by stage lights, gave a slow, approving nod.

“We lost some names along the way
Tattooed in the dirt and the break of day
But we remember. We keep them close
Every mile, every toast…”

The visuals softened photos of the fallen. Vincent. Evelyn. Jackie. Saul. Teddy. Bob. Mitch. Carol. Sindy. Josefina. Alejandro. Ainara wiped her eyes at the images of her late husband, and her daughter. Banners, and patches filled the screen for everyone who sacrificed for The Clan. The crowd quieted, respectful. Hands over hearts. Heads bowed just for a beat.

Valerie’s voice brought them back.

“We built bridges outta grief and flame
Found sisters and brothers who’d take our name…”

The music swelled hope roaring back in. The flame hadn’t gone out. It had just changed shape.

“Now we ride for something true
A place that rose from what we knew…”

Spotlights strobed across the crowd catching matching tattoos, shining off metal limbs, reflecting tears and grins and fire.

“These are the roads we travelled
These are the scars that made us whole
This is the bond we saddled
This is the story burned into our soul…”

Valerie moved to the edge of the stage, hand extended toward the people singing back to her. The emotion in her face was unmistakably fierce, full, and overflowing with gratitude.

“We are the shield, we are the flame
We are the ones who carved our name…”

Her guitar surged. Paz’s drums became thunder. Ethan's Bass flared with vigor.

“So here’s to the sparks that became our fire
To the tired hands that still lift us higher…”

The crowd screamed in rhythm now. Chanting, echoing, and living the lines.

“To the love that turned the war into a home
And the promise we’ll never ride alone!”

Valerie spun mid-stage, throwing her head back into the last verse.

“These are the roads we travelled
These are the hands that pulled us through
This is the fire we saddled
This is the family that always knew…”

One last crescendo.

“We are the walls when the winds blow cold
We are the story still being told
This is the Clan, this is the vow
And we’re still ridin’, still ridin’ now!”

The final beat hit like a shot of adrenaline, and Valerie raised her hand three fingers high, just like during the battle that started it all.

The lights burst into gold and red behind her, framing her in phoenix fire as the crowd erupted in cheers. It wasn’t just applause. It was a war cry turned love letter.

Clan Alvarez wasn’t just alive.

They were legendary.

Valerie stepped back into the center spotlight, sweat along her jawline, fingers tight around the mic. The amphitheater buzzed, glowing in soft golds and cool blues now, not fire this time, but dawn.

She took a long breath, looked out over the crowd.

“Every one of us has worked our asses off these last ten years,” she said, her voice rough from the weight of the night, but proud. “We bled for this. Fought for it. Lost and found everything trying to get here.”

She turned slightly, eyes locking on Judy, on Sera, on the family standing just beyond the stage. “I’m proud of everyone in attendance tonight. To my family…” her voice caught just a hitch, but she smiled through it, “I’ll always love you… as we walk toward our New Horizons.”

The crowd hushed.

The lights lowered.

Chimes rang out soft, delicate, almost a lullaby. Aniko’s fingers floated across the piano, drawing out a gentle melody that glided like a whisper through the hush. Alba followed with a wash of warm synths, layering in slowly, their notes shimmering like morning dew catching first light. It wasn’t grand. It was intimate. A breath between moments. A memory unfolding note by note.

Valerie’s voice broke the melody softly.

“We’ve chased ghosts through broken streets
Faced the edge with no retreat
But here you are, still holding on
Every storm behind us gone…”

Valerie sang it gently, her voice stripped back now no growl, no armor. Just a woman speaking from a heart stitched together by love, loss, and survival. Behind her, the screen lit with scenes of Oregon sunrises, family dinners, lakeside mornings, and slow dances on the dock.

“We’ve carved a life from shattered ground
Grew something real from what we found
And now there’s only open sky
No need to run, no need to hide…”

Valerie looked at the crowd. Faces wet with tears, couples holding hands, friends wrapped in each other’s arms. Judy smiled up at Valerie, her expression glowing with calm pride.

“Let’s walk into new horizons
With no maps, just your hand in mine
We’ve had our wars, we’ve made our peace
Now it’s time we simply shine…”

Paz’s soft percussion kicked in. Just enough rhythm to feel the heartbeat behind the words.

“No more nights of looking back
Only stars along our track
I don’t know where this road will bend
But I’ll love you to the end…”

Valerie turned to the front of the stage and pointed at Sera. Sera grinned, mouthing the next line in sync.

“No silver crowns, no neon fame
Just morning light and your name…”

As the song climbed, so did the visuals behind her images from Night City fading into rural skies. Chrome silhouettes replaced by garden beds and wind chimes. Panam and Vicky raising Sandra on their shoulders. Jessica and Vanessa slow dancing under string lights. A mosaic of healing.

“The kind of quiet that feels like grace
In every kiss, in every place…”

The music swelled, building not toward an explosion, but a horizon line.

“We’ve got years still left to burn
Still things to feel, and things to learn
But there’s nothing more I’d ever need
Than you, beside me, wild and free…”

A full band joined now Valerie’s guitar strummed with steady purpose, Ethan’s bass humming low like a heartbeat beneath it. Paz eased into the rhythm, his drums soft but resolute, each beat landing like a quiet vow. Alba’s keys and Aniko’s piano intertwined in a rising harmony, delicate yet unshakable.

Together, the sound wasn’t thunderous, it was powerful in a different way. The kind of strength born not from defiance, but from devotion. The sound of standing tall not through might, but through enduring love.

“Let’s walk into new horizons
No finish line, just one long ride
With every sunrise, I’ll still choose
The home I found in your eyes…”

The crowd sang that line with her… "the home I found in your eyes"...a shared hymn.

“Let the world do what it will
We’ll be dancing, soft and still
No need for words to re-pretend
I’ll love you to the end…”

Valerie’s voice softened to a whisper on that final line.

Then came the hush along with a long pause. Just her, bathed in soft white light.

“If this is the last song I ever write
Let it sound like our first night
Your laugh, the stars, the firelight
A promise made, holding tight…”

She raised her hand. Held it to her chest. The music swelled behind her again.

“So here’s to all new horizons
And the love that never fades
To the scars that turned to stories
And the hearts that never strayed…”

The stage behind her lit into one massive image the entire family standing in the Oregon field, jackets on, arms linked, sunlight behind them.

“With every breath, with every bend
You’ll have my soul, my love, my friend
I won’t just be there till the end
I’ll love you through it all again…”

The final note rang out.

Soft, and endless.

Valerie lowered her head.

The amphitheater was silent. No cheers, not yet.

Just awe, breath, and tears.

Then a single voice cried out from the crowd. “CLAN ALVAREZ!” The room exploded into thunderous applause, stomping feet, chants, sobs, cheers. Judy reached the edge of the stage and held out her hand. Valerie took it.

With that the lights faded, but the fire was still burning.

The roar of the crowd still echoed through the walls muffled now, like distant thunder rolling out to sea. But here, behind the curtains, everything had gone still.

Valerie stood in the wings, head bowed, her chest rising slow and steady. The adrenaline was gone. All that remained was warmth. Her palms still tingled from the final note, her throat raw, but her heart was full, and overflowing.

Then arms wrapped around her from behind. Judy. No words, just the grounding press of her forehead against Valerie’s shoulder blade, her breath warm against the curve of her neck.

“You did it,” Judy whispered. “You gave ‘em everything.”

Valerie turned slowly, and they embraced fully now, swaying in the soft silence. Judy’s cheeks were damp. Valerie’s weren’t dry either.

Footsteps thumped as Sera skidded in with wide eyes, and a glowing grin. “You were a freakin’ legend, Mom!”

Valerie’s emerald eyes beamed as she smiled. They hugged hard, tight, like it was the only thing that made sense in the whole damn world.

Vanessa and Jessica arrived next, hands intertwined, still wiping away tears. Sandra darted in with a wide smile, slipping her arm around Sera, and Panam brought up the rear with Vicky both nodding with pride, jackets slung loose around their shoulders.

Ainara walked in slowly smiling at Valerie. “You made our family proud, Valerie.”

Even Johnny stood there, leaning on the frame with a crooked smile and glassy eyes. “You always did have a hell of a way with words,” he muttered.

One by one, they closed in around her. Not a crowd now, a circle, and a family.

Judy tucked her hand into Valerie’s. “We’re not just survivors anymore,” she said quietly. “We’re the reason this world has a future.”

Valerie looked around at the faces. The ones who stayed, who believed, who chose this life. Her voice was low, but steady. “I used to dream about making it out alive,” she said. “Now I dream about mornings. About laughter. About you.”

They stood like that for a moment, everyone wrapped in a hush that was sacred.

Outside, the crowd was still cheering, but here, the fire had softened.

There were no final words.

Just arms around shoulders.
Foreheads pressed together.
A pulse of belonging that didn’t need to be spoken.

Valerie exhaled and closed her eyes.

They had made it.

Valerie didn’t need to say anything more. The music had said it all. The love, the fight, the fire it lived in every verse, every soul in the crowd, every tear quietly slipping down Judy’s cheek as she reached for her hand.

Sera leaned against her mom’s side, her face lit with a smile both proud and soft. Vanessa and Jessica wrapped their arms around each other. Ainara wiped her eyes. Sandra rested between Panam, and Vicky’s shoulders. The whole family stood in silence, not because there was nothing to say, but because this moment was the answer.

The spotlight dimmed to a golden hue. Not final. Not fading, just a warm hue.

Valerie’s eyes swept across them all, then upward past the lights, the rafters, the stars above the roof.

“We made it,” she said gently, mostly to herself. “Into a life that mattered.”

She squeezed Judy’s hand.

Into the stars.
Into peace.
Into everything they had built from the wreckage.

As the last echo faded into the hush, the screen behind them sparked to life one final time not with words, but with the rising silhouette of the Clan Alvarez phoenix,
wings outstretched in defiance,
burning bright in crimson and gold.

It didn’t need a name.

Everyone watching knew what it meant.

They had already found their forever.

The roar of the crowd still echoed in their bones, even as the lights dimmed and the curtain dropped. Backstage was a world of its own tangles of wires, racks of gear, pulsing adrenaline hanging in the air like vapor.

Valerie stood at center, a towel draped over her neck, sweat streaking down her temples. Her Clan Alvarez jacket had been tied around her waist, leaving just her tank top and tattoos to glint under the lights.

Ethan flopped onto the nearest road case, bass still strapped over his shoulder. His curls were soaked, but his eyes sparkled. “Tell me we recorded that. That was the best run of ‘Starfall’ we’ve ever done.”

Valerie gave him a tired grin. “Pretty sure half the city felt that one through the floorboards.”

“Damn right they did,” Paz called, spinning a drumstick through his fingers with practiced flair. His tank top clung to him, and his denim jeans were already flecked with stage dust. “You hit that last chorus like you were gonna crack the sky.”

Alba was already halfway through downing a bottle of sparkling water, her Nomad bandana pushed back up her forehead, eyes still scanning her portable rig like she couldn’t quite come down from performance mode. “Tempo held clean the whole way,” she murmured. “Even during ‘New Horizons.’ The sync between us tonight? Flawless.”

Aniko, seated cross-legged on a case, tapped her boots together and gave a sharp nod. “People were crying during ‘Love Through Loss.’ Real tears. You hear that, boss? You got 'em.”

Valerie laughed, and it cracked slightly at the edges from exhaustion. “That wasn’t just me. That was all of us.”

She looked around at them, really looked. “Ethan, your solo in ‘A Life That Mattered’ hit like a pulse through the chest. Paz, that kick-drum thunder in ‘The Roads We Travelled’. You could’ve leveled the whole dome. Aniko, you kept us grounded, and Alba…” She gestured with her hand, a soft smile on her lips. “Your bridge in ‘Starfall’ was the heartbeat of that whole damn song.”

Ethan stood and raised a hand. “Group huddle. Come on. This show was the best yet, this deserves full contact.”

Paz dropped his sticks and joined in. Alba sighed but leaned in, and Aniko rolled her eyes, muttering, “You all smell like the apocalypse,” before diving into the pile anyway.

Valerie wrapped her arms around them as they closed in.

“Thank you,” she said quietly, head bowed slightly. “For every hour. Every note. Every night you gave to this. I wouldn’t be here without you.”

There was no need for dramatic declarations. No spotlight left to chase.

Just five people, soaked in sweat, wrapped in silence and each other.

In that moment, under the faint hum of cooling amps and overhead fluorescents, they didn’t just feel like a band.

They felt like a family.

Valerie smiled at them. “Dinners on me.”

There was a shared ripple of cheers and teasing thanks, a few mock bows from Ethan and Paz. Alba adjusted her bandana, still glowing from the performance, while Aniko gave Valerie a mock salute with her fingers before tucking them away in her pocket. The high from the stage hadn’t worn off. It buzzed through their laughter, their steps, the looseness in their movements as they filed out together into the dressing rooms to prepare for dinner.

The sign above the door read “Lucía’s Garden” in glowing amber script, an old converted greenhouse draped in string lights and vines, tucked into the hills just outside Klamath’s city center. Earthy, warm, and wildly out of place for a band known for burning up stages with molten synth and rock riffs. Which, of course, made it exactly Valerie’s kind of place.

She stepped through the arched entryway in her Clan Alvarez jacket, and her red hair braided back loosely, hand-in-hand with Judy, who wore a cropped red hoodie over a lace tank top, eyes scanning the beautiful view of the restaurant.

Inside, the glow was golden and low. Terracotta walls and wood-paneled booths framed the space, and at the center of the room stood a circular table of menus, linen napkins, and a centerpiece of blooming succulents wrapped in Nomad mesh.

Ethan was already there, lounging with a drink in hand something electric blue with a twist of citrus and far too many ice cubes.

“Didn’t think you’d show,” he called, raising his glass. “You’ve got that post-glory afterburn look, Val. Thought you’d vanish into the clouds with Judy, and a guitar solo.”

Valerie smirked. “Tempting. But I promised you weird cocktails and real food, didn’t I?”

“Just glad we’re not eating out of synth-packs,” Alba muttered as she approached behind Ethan, her desert boots dusted and hair twisted up in a sunset-orange wrap. “I wore real clothes for this. Don’t let me down.”

Aniko arrived next, eyeliner still winged like she might dive back into the pit at any moment. Her dress was sleek, slashed at the shoulders, with silver chains draped at her hips. “If I don’t get four courses and a cocktail named something dramatic, I’m leaving,” she deadpanned.

Paz walked in last, helmet tucked under one arm resting against the side of shirt, arms bare and tattooed, looking like he’d come from a joyride through half the West. “Sorry,” he grinned, sliding into the chair beside Ethan. “Took a wrong turn at ‘let’s take it easy.’”

Judy leaned into Valerie’s side, whispering just loud enough, “I like your band.”

Valerie gave a warm hum. “Me too.”

They took their seats as the server arrived, setting down glasses of sparkling water and cards for scanning drink orders.

Ethan raised his glass again. “To the start of a new chapter.”

“To the band,” Alba added, bumping her glass lightly against his.

“To the sound we built together,” Aniko said with a quieter, deeper conviction.

Paz raised his hand. “And to the woman who made it all happen. The firestarter herself.”

All eyes turned to Valerie.

She blinked, then held up her water glass, voice gentle. “To family. However you find it.”

The toast echoed through the soft-lit room, met with smiles and the clinking of glass and the warmth of something rare.

Not just a band, but something real.

By the time the appetizers hit the table platters of roasted street corn, mushroom empanadas, and citrus-glazed jackfruit skewers the air around them was already loose with comfort. No pressure, no noise. Just the hum of low conversation and the soft rhythm of a flamenco guitar playing somewhere near the bar.

Valerie leaned back in her seat, arm draped across the booth behind Judy, watching her band dissolve into themselves like puzzle pieces finally settling into place.

Ethan, his legs crossed lazily, was mid-story about a solo gig he once played inside a neon-lit laundromat. “Every time the spin cycle hit max, the whole bass line shifted. I had to adapt, okay? That's called innovation.”

“That’s called delusion,” Aniko snorted, sipping something dark and smoky from a tiny glass. “You liked it because you got paid in edibles.”

“That was a nice bonus,” Ethan admitted, grinning.

Alba forked a bit of spicy roasted corn and pointed it at him. “You also said the washers were singing in harmony. You were high, Ethan.”

“Creative mindset,” he defended. “Mood over math.”

Judy chuckled, passing Valerie a wedge of lemon-glazed empanada. “He reminds me of Johnny if Johnny had any chill whatsoever.”

Valerie smiled around a mouthful. “Don’t curse him like that.”

Paz was bent halfway over the table, waving a menu. “Okay, we’re voting. Dessert now or after mains?”

“Why not both?” Aniko asked, leaning her chin on one hand, gaze sharp but relaxed.

“That’s my pianist," Valerie laughed. “Always chasing chaos.”

They all laughed.

Alba sat back, her tone softer now. “Tonight hit different, didn’t it? Something about the way you sang, Val. Like it was goodbye and hello all at once.”

Valerie’s eyes found Judy’s for a second. Just long enough to let the words settle.

“Yeah,” she said finally. “Because it was.”

Ethan tapped his glass. “No matter where we go next…this? This band? This family? We carved it into sound. That’s permanent.”

Paz raised his hand. “I’ll ride for that. Every time.”

Aniko added her glass with a quiet nod. “Burn it into the chords.”

Judy leaned forward, voice low. “You guys ever thought about recording something new? Something not for crowds. Just… for us?”

Valerie watched them all.

The mismatched harmony of their personalities. The rhythm of their banter. The bond that didn’t need fire and fame to matter.

“Maybe it’s time,” she said. “Something raw. Honest. A little imperfect.”

Ethan grinned. “Like us.”

“Exactly,” Valerie nodded.

As main courses arrived steaming enchiladas, roasted veggie stacks, seared jackfruit, and thick, buttery rolls the moment stretched like a song’s final chord. Resonance, and holding.

This wasn’t just a post-show celebration.

This was the beginning of something lasting.

A new verse.

A deeper rhythm.

Somewhere under the table, Valerie reached for Judy’s hand and gave it a soft squeeze like punctuation at the end of a promise.

The night air outside the restaurant was cool and crisp, smelling faintly of citrus blossoms and exhaust from the nearby road. The band lingered by the curb, their laughter tapering into softer tones as the energy of the dinner gave way to tired satisfaction.

Ethan stretched his arms overhead with a long groan. “Okay, that jackfruit stack was worth it, but I think I need a week to digest.”

“Better than synth-chili from that gas station you swore was ‘life-changing,’” Aniko muttered, zipping her leather jacket. “Still recovering.”

“Yeah,” Paz added, drumming his fingers on his own chest like a heartbeat, “you almost killed the rhythm section with that stunt.”

Ethan smirked. “We suffered for our art.”

Alba leaned against the streetlamp, her boots crossed at the ankle, her tone quieter. “You know, I used to think joining a band this far out of Night City would mean giving up something… dangerous. But turns out? Real loyalty’s the wildest ride of all.”

Valerie stepped forward, hands in her coat pockets, her voice low but warm. “You all showed up for something more than music tonight. You gave everything. To the city, to each other, to me.”

“We’re Clan now,” Paz said simply. “Even the beats know it.”

“Ride or die,” Ethan added, winking.

Aniko gave a lazy salute, her punk bracelets clinking. “More shows. More songs. But no synth-chili.”

They hugged brief, but real, arms thrown around each other with a weight that said thank you, good job, and see you soon.

Valerie and Judy lingered a moment longer, watching as their bandmates peeled off one by one, boots and heels fading into the night toward parked cars, light rails, or home on foot. The street grew quiet again.

Only the rustle of pine and the distant buzz of neon remained.

Judy nudged her shoulder into Valerie’s. “So… post-show come-down yet?”

Valerie chuckled, slipping an arm around her waist. “You mean the part where all the adrenaline leaks out of my shoes? Yeah. Definitely hitting.”

Judy tilted her head up. “You okay?”

Valerie paused.

Then nodded.

“Yeah. More than okay.”

The walk back to the Racer was slow, hand-in-hand, fingers interlaced like chords of the same song.

Valerie climbed with Judy right behind her grabbing her waist. The silence between them was soft, not empty. Just full. The kind of quiet earned after long nights and louder applause.

As they pulled away, the city lights stretched behind them, and Valerie looked once in the mirror not for nostalgia, but for clarity.

Then forward again.

Toward home.

Toward the future they’d already started writing one note, one voice, one fire-lit promise at a time.

The door to the lakehouse creaked open with the soft click of a lock, spilling warm light onto the porch as Valerie and Judy stepped inside. Valerie kicked it shut behind them with a little more force than needed, still riding the high from the night.

“You know,” Judy said, toeing off her boots as they entered, “you ever not make me cry at a show, I’m filing a complaint.”

Valerie laughed as she tugged off her Clan Alvarez jacket, draping it over the back of the couch. “Not my fault your tear ducts are soft.”

“Soft?” Judy scoffed. “Says the woman who wrote a ballad about our kid and then looked at me during the chorus like she knew it’d wreck me.”

Valerie smirked over her shoulder as they walked toward the bedroom. “I did know. I practiced the stare in the mirror.”

“Oh my God.” Judy rolled her eyes, following her into the room. “You’re the worst.”

“Yet somehow,” Valerie said, voice teasing as she stretched her arms up overhead with a wince, “you’re still madly in love with me.”

She dropped her arms, rotating her right shoulder with a grimace.

Judy’s eyes narrowed. “That the knot again?”

“Yeah,” Valerie muttered, rubbing at it half-heartedly. “Started locking up during the second set. Thought adrenaline would burn it off.”

“Sit,” Judy ordered, pointing firmly at the edge of the bed.

Valerie blinked. “I can…”

“Sit. You made me cry in front of half the city, the least I can do is massage your busted shoulder.”

Valerie chuckled and obeyed, plopping down on the mattress with a quiet groan as Judy stepped behind her. The mattress dipped as Judy climbed up behind her on her knees, thumbs already pressing gently into the tight muscle along Valerie’s shoulder blade.

“Damn,” Judy muttered. “You weren’t kidding. Feels like you’ve got a whole busted engine crammed under here.”

Valerie groaned, dropping her head forward. “You sure this isn’t just revenge disguised as love?”

“I’d never.” Judy pressed a kiss to the back of her neck before digging her thumbs in deeper. “I might pretend it is, though.”

They stayed like that for a while Valerie’s eyes fluttering closed as the pain slowly loosened under Judy’s steady hands. The glow from the bedside lamp painted them in soft amber tones, the house quiet except for their breathing and the occasional crack of the old wood settling.

“Thank you,” Valerie whispered after a while.

Judy kissed her shoulder. “Always.”

For that moment wrapped in warmth, laughter, and soft ache the world felt exactly the size it was supposed to be. Just the two of them, home, and hearts still singing.

Chapter Text

The dock was still quiet when she stepped outside, coffee in hand, jacket hanging loose off her shoulders. The sun hadn’t climbed much yet just enough to burn a shimmer across the lake’s surface. That soft hush after a storm, or a song.

Then came the knock.

Three short raps on the wood of the porch column.

Valerie turned.

There he was Johnny Silverhand, boots planted like he’d always belonged, a bottle tucked under his arm like an apology he didn’t know how to say.

“You trying to make a bastard cry?” he asked, voice half-grit, half-laugh.

She blinked, surprised. Then smirked. “If I wanted you to cry, I’d’ve hit you with verse four.”

“Shit.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Guess I walked over here askin’ for it.”

She tilted her head toward the path. “Walk with me.”

No need to say more. They both fell into step like it was instinct down the worn trail that curved along the edge of the lake. Pines on one side, water on the other. Wind blowing softly. Leaves whispering secrets.

“Been a long time since I felt anything,” Johnny muttered, eyes ahead. “But last night… you hit something in me. Thought I buried that part a long time ago.”

Valerie kept walking, letting the space breathe. “You didn’t bury it. You just didn’t know it had roots.”

He laughed once quiet, rough. “You always talk like that?”

“Only when I’m not being shot at.”

They reached a bend where the trees opened up and the whole lake lay in front of them. Sunlight spilled through, painting gold on the water. She stopped there.

Johnny unscrewed the cap on the bottle, took a sip, handed it to her. She didn’t drink, but she held it anyway. Like holding the silence between them.

“I wasn’t always worth saving,” he said.

“No one ever is,” Valerie replied. “We become worth it. One choice at a time.”

He looked at her then. Really looked.

“You were dying,” he said. “That night. In Mikoshi. I could’ve taken the body and run.”

“But you didn’t.”

Johnny’s voice was stern. “I didn’t.”

They both stared at the lake for a while. The breeze kicked up just enough to ruffle her hair.

“Judy’s voice brought me back,” she said quietly. “But you… you gave me the space to return. You gave up your life so I could try again.”

Johnny shrugged. “Figured you’d do more with it than I ever could.”

“And what if I hadn’t?”

He took the bottle back from her, twisted the cap on tight, and slipped it into his jacket pocket.

“You did,” he said.

Valerie looked down at her hands, scarred, freckled, strong. Fingers that had pulled triggers, held trembling friends, played chords that broke hearts open.

“Judy says I still twitch in my sleep sometimes,” she whispered.

“Yeah, well. So do I.”

They both laughed at that. Not loud, or sharp. Just real.

As they turned back, walking slow, the quiet wasn’t heavy anymore. It was warm. Like a guitar still humming after the final note. Like memories, and forgiveness.

When they reached the bend again, Valerie paused.

“Thank you,” she said.

Johnny didn’t answer right away. Just looked out at the water again.

“Keep singing, Val. Long as that voice is yours, the rest of us might stand a chance.”

Then he walked back the way he came, boots crunching on old pine needles, sun trailing behind him like a shadow that finally knew peace.

The trail curved through sun-dappled trees, the lake peeking through in scattered shards of blue. Valerie walked with her hands in her pockets, boots crunching softly over loose dirt and needles. Her shadow stretched long ahead of her, flickering as branches swayed above.

Johnny’s words still lingered, etched behind her eyes like a song not ready to fade.
"You built something I never could."

She breathed in the pine-thick air, chest aching in that quiet way it always did when the past crept too close. But it wasn’t a painful ache, not now. Just weight, and meaning.

They’d all lost pieces of themselves getting here. Ghosts, battles, broken promises. But as her boots crested the last hill and the lake came into full view, glittering soft and gold in the mid-morning light, she saw their house.

Curtains drawn open. One of Judy’s bras drying crooked on the deck rail. A forgotten cup of tea beside the front door. It wasn’t perfect, but it was theirs.

Valerie let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. No regret, or sorrow. Just… release. Gratitude wrapped in ache.

A bird scattered from a nearby tree as she passed. Wind tugged at her red hair.

She didn’t hurry.

This was the kind of walk you didn’t rush, one where every step reminded her why she’d fought so hard to stay alive. Every broken rib, every scar, every lost night was worth it for what waited at the end of this trail.

She hadn’t come this far for victory.
Not for vengeance either.
In the end, it was always Judy.

She reached the steps. Rested her hand on the railing, and smiled.

Then opened the door and stepped back inside.

The house smelled like fresh linen and pine dust, windows cracked just enough to let the summer air drift in. Valerie stepped inside, brushing the last of the trail dirt from her boots. She set her empty mug down beside the sink, then made her way to the bedroom.

Judy was sitting on the edge of the bed, one leg tucked beneath her, brushing out her hair. She looked up the second Valerie entered. Soft smile. Bare shoulders wrapped in one of Val’s old band shirts, neckline hanging off one side like it had given up trying to fit her properly.

“Gone long enough to miss you,” Judy said.

Valerie leaned in from behind, dropped a kiss on her temple, then rested her chin on Judy’s shoulder. “Took a walk.”

Judy’s brow lifted gently. “With who?”

“Johnny.”

That gave Judy pause, but not a surprise. Just a slow turn of her head, her gaze studying Valerie’s face for a heartbeat. “Yeah?”

Valerie nodded, brushing her fingers along Judy’s arm. “He showed up this morning. Said I made him cry.”

“Oh damn,” Judy grinned, “we got him that good?”

“Guess so.”

She sat down beside her, the bed creaking softly beneath them. “We walked the lakeside trail. Talked about Mikoshi. About why he didn’t take the body when he could’ve.”

Judy’s expression shifted to no jealousy, no worry. Just quiet curiosity and something warmer beneath. “What’d he say?”

“That he thought I’d do more with it than he ever could.” Valerie’s voice was soft now, eyes lowered. “That maybe it was time someone lived instead of just surviving.”

Judy reached over and laced their fingers together. “He’s not wrong.”

“I told him thank you.” Valerie looked at her, really looked. “Because without him… I wouldn’t have made it back to you.”

The words settled like a slow rain. Judy didn’t speak for a moment. She just leaned in, pressed her lips gently to Valerie’s knuckles, and held them there.

“You’re back,” she whispered. “And you stayed.”

Valerie leaned her forehead against Judy’s. “Always.”

They sat like that, no music, no motion. Just breath and skin and silence the kind that didn’t need filling.

Then Judy smiled faintly. “So, uh… did Johnny get all poetic and shit?”

Valerie smirked. “No. But he did call me a bastard for making him feel something.”

“High praise.”

Valerie kissed her then. Like punctuation on a story that didn’t need rewriting.

The bedroom was dim, the soft haze of moonlight curling through the window and falling like a silk ribbon across the bed. Valerie sat on the edge, shirt draped loose around her waist, head tilted forward as Judy’s hands pressed into the base of her neck, slow, purposeful, familiar.

“You made me cry in front of half the city,” Judy murmured with a half-smile. “Still deciding if I should kiss you or tackle you for that.”

Valerie let out a breath, gravel-soft. “You did both.”

Judy leaned in, lips ghosting over her shoulder blade. “Yeah. Think I’ll do it again.”

The teasing faded into silence, warm, worn-in. Valerie shifted slightly under her touch, eyes half-closed, letting the ache of adrenaline ease under the comfort of Judy’s hands. The weight of the performance was still there, settled in her bones… but so was something deeper.

“I didn’t write that song to perform,” Valerie said. “I wrote it because it was the only way I could get the words out.”

Judy stilled. Palms open, resting against her spine. “Then say it again.”

Valerie turned slightly, just enough to find her eyes. “I already did.”

Judy’s lips curved not quite a smile, more like a vow. She reached up and brushed a sweat-damp strand of red from Valerie’s temple, fingers drifting down to the soft violet-lit patch just beneath her ear.

“Then show me,” she whispered.

The connection bloomed.

A low pulse shimmered between them, nothing visible, but loud in the bones. The relay synced. Not code, not protocol. Just feeling. Crafted in love, not patented. Still syncing more with instinct than interface.

Then Valerie wasn’t herself anymore.

She was Judy.

Backstage.
Her pulse still erratic. The heat of the crowd like a storm rolling off the sea. The stage burned golden through a haze of tears. Valerie’s voice filled every hollow in her chest. That wink. That look. That instant where time stuttered, and Judy forgot how to breathe.

The pride. The awe. The love so bright and enormous it eclipsed thought.

Valerie gasped.

“That’s what you saw?” she managed, voice raw.

Judy nodded, eyes shining. Her fingers stayed at the pulse-point beneath Valerie’s jaw.

“I wanted you to feel it,” she whispered. “Not just the show. Me. That moment. Seeing you… knowing you were mine.”

The relay pulsed again.

Valerie didn’t hesitate.

She pushed her memory into the circuit.

Judy inhaled sharply.

The lake at dawn. The dock warm beneath them. Valerie’s hand twitching toward hers, not brave enough to close the distance yet. That almost-touch. That breathless stillness. The moment before it all changed. The spark of maybe.

Judy’s voice caught. “I remember this…”

“I never let go of it,” Valerie said. “Even when everything was falling apart.”

The words lingered like smoke in the quiet, drifting toward the ceiling with the pulse of low light and half-drawn breath.

She turned and took Judy’s hand slowly, reverent, fingers locking like an oath.

“Let me show you something.”

The moment she touched the relay behind Judy’s ear, the connection reformed. Clean, and gentle. Not overpowering, just open.

The world shifted.

Suddenly, Judy was on the stage.

Not watching, or remembering.

Being.

Her fingers moved, but they weren’t hers. Valerie’s callused fingertips slid across strings, every strum a story. The chords hummed through her hands, raw and alive, thrumming with heat. The stage lights beat down, golden and heavy, painting sweat against skin. The crowd’s roar bled into her bones not as sound, but as a current, pulsing with recognition and devotion.

Judy gasped softly. The drums hit next Paz’s rhythm like thunder through her chest, Ethan’s bass crawling down her spine like a heartbeat set loose. The spotlight wasn’t just on Valerie it was inside her.

A voice her voice rose through her again, filling the echo chamber of memory with purpose.

Judy opened her eyes, and Valerie was still holding her hand, eyes searching hers with that steady, unshakable look of someone who had nothing to hide.

“That’s what it was like for me,” Valerie said softly. “Not just playing for them. Playing for you.”

Judy stared for a moment. Then smirked.

“Oh yeah? I’ve got something to show you too.”

She stepped back, just a small one. Fingers lifting her hair behind her own ear, brushing it with a feather’s weight. The signal came online, not flashy, not overwhelming. Just a subtle flicker of thought across the line they shared.

It hit Valerie like heat on bare skin. Not sensation exactly, but presence.

A touch without touch. A whisper without words.

Judy’s emotional imprint poured into her: the weightless anticipation of breath just before a kiss, the magnetic hum that lived in the space between hands, the ache of wanting to be close enough to dissolve into one another.

Judy wasn’t touching herself.

She was remembering the feeling of being touched. Being wanted, and sharing it.

Valerie felt it all.

She blinked, heat prickling up her neck, and turned.

“Cheating,” she murmured, voice low but not unamused.

Judy’s breath caught. “I wanted you to feel it.”

Valerie’s hand slid along her waist, tugged her closer. The sync buzzed in the back of her mind, but it was nothing compared to the warmth of skin and silk of breath as they stood face to face.

“I do,” Valerie whispered, brushing her lips across Judy’s. “But I like your hands better when they’re on me.”

Judy’s grin melted into something softer. The relay faded. The kiss deepened, not tech-enhanced, not curated, not shared.

Just real, and that, Valerie thought, was the only signal that ever mattered.

The world narrowed to breath and contact lips parting, seeking, finding. Hands in familiar places, but with a reverence that made each touch feel new. The room held them like a secret, moonlight pooling at their feet, the scent of skin and summer rain lingering in the air from the earlier storm.

Valerie broke the kiss first, just enough to rest her forehead against Judy’s.

The silence wasn’t empty. It was whole.

Judy’s fingers played absently with the hem of Valerie’s loose shirt, her other hand trailing along the dip of her back. Not urgent, nor teasing. Just there anchoring them at this moment.

Valerie’s voice was barely a breath. “Do you ever think about how close we came to losing this?”

Judy didn’t pull away. “Every time I wake up and you’re still beside me.”

A faint pulse shimmered in the relay between them, not deliberate, not planned.

Valerie hadn’t meant to send anything. But she didn’t stop, either.

It started with a softban echo of a chorus half-hummed in memory, the way A Life That Mattered always began. Her feelings bled into the link without polish, without pretense. Just the truth.

Judy felt it first. Not the song itself, but the shape of it the way Valerie’s heart had wrapped itself around the meaning. That Judy made her life matter. Not in theory. Not in poetry. In every breath of the last eleven years.

The sync deepened.

A flicker: their first real hug, back when friendship still defined them, but the ache between their ribs had already begun to bloom into something more.

Another: white and gold dresses swaying in the Laguna breeze. Just them. Just love. Vows whispered barefoot on the dock, no audience but the stars and the rippling lake.

The pain. A few days after Mikoshi. Valerie collapsing into Judy’s arms, the neural fire in her skull nearly too much to bear. Judy, arms wrapped tight, pressing a roasted marshmallow to her lips, smiling through tears. “You’re still here,” she’d whispered. “You’re still mine.”

Valerie blinked, surfacing slightly. “Sorry,” she murmured. “Didn’t mean to sync that.”

Judy’s voice was soft, thick with something unspoken. “Don’t apologize. I needed that.”

She leaned in, brushing her lips once more over Valerie’s cheek, near the pulse beneath her skin.

“You always think you’re the one surviving for me,” she said, “but I was surviving for you too.”

Valerie let her eyes close, breath catching in her throat.

“I know,” she whispered.

They stayed curled together, sync fading, but the closeness unchanged no longer defined by signal or tech, just the shared weight of eleven years that neither of them would trade.

The world around them had quieted to a hush, save for the soft rustle of the sheets and the occasional creak of the house settling into the evening. Valerie lay on her side, one arm draped across Judy’s waist, the other tucked beneath her cheek. Their breathing had synced again no tech, no sync-link this time. Just years of shared rhythm, hearts that had learned each other’s beat.

Judy’s fingers traced idle shapes along Valerie’s spine, her thoughts miles deep but rooted here in this room, in this moment. The song, the concert, the memories they'd touched all of it still echoed behind her eyes like starlight not ready to fade.

Valerie gave a content little hum. “Could stay like this forever.”

Judy smiled into her hair. “We’ve earned at least one forever.”

A quiet beat passed.

Then Judy pulled back just enough to see her.

Judy’s fingers lingered on Valerie’s back, tracing the curve of her spine with slow, thoughtful circles.

“They looked happy last night,” she said softly. “Sera and Sandra.”

Valerie hummed against her pillow, voice still sleep-warm. “Yeah… was good seeing them together again. Felt like home.”

Judy shifted slightly, propping herself up on one elbow. “Was thinking we could have them over tonight. Something quiet.”

Valerie’s lips curled at the edges. “Family dinner?”

Judy nodded. “Feels like it’s been a while.”

Valerie stretched beneath the sheets, her voice a little more awake now. “You cooking?”

“I was hoping you’d be upright enough to help,” Judy teased.

Valerie smirked without opening her eyes. “Give me ten. Maybe fifteen. Then I’ll be your sous-chef.”

Judy leaned in and kissed her temple, fingers still resting over the pulse at her neck. “Good. I missed this.”

Valerie slid out of bed upon standing she turned, giving a teasing wink to Judy as she stood.

Judy smiled. “Hurray up, and clean that sexy ass off so we can make dinner.”

Valerie shimmed, dropping her pants. She placed a hand over her mouth in a mock gesture. “Oops.”

Judy walked over, and smacked her ass.
“No time for games, mi amor.”

Valerie turned pulling her into a kiss.

Judy pulled away smiling. Her hand drifted from Valerie’s arm. “Not gonna save you any garlic bread if you don't hurry.”

Valerie threw her hands up. “Alright. I’ll be out soon.”

Valerie stepped into the bathroom as the warmth of water eased her muscles still aching from the concert yesterday.

A short while later Valerie stepped out of the bedroom with a towel still tucked around her shoulders, damp red hair tumbling loose down her back. She’d already changed into soft gray lounge pants and a worn Clan Alvarez tee, sleeves rolled slightly from old habit. The scent of fresh soap still clung to her skin, mingling with something familiar already brewing in the kitchen.

Judy stood at the counter, sleeves pushed up, shaping meatballs with practiced ease. A pot simmered behind her, steam curling in lazy ribbons toward the ceiling. The whole kitchen smelled like memory garlic, oregano, the sweet tang of crushed tomatoes.

“She sounded happy,” Judy said over her shoulder, glancing back with a faint smile. “Sera. When I called. Said dinner at home ‘sounded perfect.’”

Valerie chuckled, leaning in to snag a slice of tomato from the cutting board. “Of course she did. You said the words ‘spaghetti and meatballs,’ right?”

Judy raised an eyebrow. “Obviously. What kind of dinner would it be if we didn’t make her favorite?”

Valerie stepped up beside her, nudging Judy gently with her hip. “You did the call, I’ll do the garlic bread. Team effort.”

“Team family,” Judy said with a smirk, dicing parsley with a quiet rhythm. “Kind of nice hearing how much she missed this. Said Highland Junction’s been good, but…”

Valerie opened the cupboard, grabbing plates with an absent smile. “Yeah. It’s not here.”

Judy didn’t need to say anything more. The silence that followed wasn’t empty. It was filled with a quiet kind of warmth, the kind only built by time, love, and long dinners shared around the same table. The kind of silence that told you everything was right.

The scent of garlic and herbs filled the kitchen, soft rock humming low from the corner speaker as Valerie stirred the sauce with lazy care. The pasta had just gone into the pot when the front door creaked open.

“Hey, Moms…I’m here!”

Sera’s voice rang out warm and confident.

“In the kitchen!” Judy called back, already smiling.

The thump of boots drifting from the living room, and the soft jingle of a camera strap. Sera appeared first, grinning, a familiar weight slung around her neck was Judy’s old vintage camera, worn leather edges and all. Sandra followed close behind, tucking a small envelope of Polaroids into her jacket pocket.

Judy leaned against the counter, eyes drawn immediately to the camera. “Still using it, huh?”

Sera touched the lens gently. “You said to build a life through it, right? Figured you didn’t mean one weekend.”

Valerie reached for plates, shooting her a wink. “Just wait till you have boxes full like your Mama. That thing’s practically a memory machine.”

Sandra pulled the Polaroids free and offered them with both hands. “We wanted to bring these tonight. Thought you might like to see what we saw.”

Judy took them gently, flipping through the stack desert vistas, broken neon signs, quiet smiles in the dusk. A few were blurry, off-center, imperfect in all the best ways.

Valerie looked over her shoulder. “That one,” she said, pointing to a snapshot of Sera dancing on a half-collapsed billboard, the Highland Junction sky blazing orange behind her. “That’s the album cover right there.”

Sera grinned, cheeks flushed. “I slipped off right after that shot.”

“And I caught her,” Sandra added, deadpan.

“Of course you did,” Valerie said, amused.

They gathered at the table, bowls steaming, glasses clinking. The first bites were met with soft moans of approval. Valerie’s meatballs always hit hardest after time apart.

It wasn’t long before Sera set her fork down and glanced between them. “You know I always knew Starfall was about me, right?”

Judy met her gaze with warmth. “You said that even before she played it.”

“Yeah, but… hearing it like that last night. Seeing you up there, Mom…” she looked at Valerie, her voice hitching just slightly, “...singing it like it was the only thing keeping the sky from falling…”

Valerie reached across the table and squeezed her hand. “It was always your song, Starshine.”

Sera smiled, eyes damp but shining. “Just never seen it sung in front of hundreds of people before.”

Sandra wrapped an arm around her shoulder. “The whole crowd felt it. You should’ve seen their faces.”

“They felt you,” Judy said softly. “Because you were in every word.”

The silence that followed wasn’t awkward. It was reverent. A small, perfect moment suspended between hearts that had survived too much to take this kind of peace for granted.

In the background, the soft click of Sera’s camera captured it.

No flash, or announcement.

Just a quiet memory being made.

The plates were scraped clean. The wine was half-finished. Somewhere between laughter and leaning back in their chairs, the four of them had migrated to the living room, full-bellied and slow-moving, the air heavy with the kind of warmth that only came after home-cooked meals and shared memories.

Judy had kicked off her boots and curled up on one end of the couch, legs tucked beneath her, a wine glass balanced loosely in one hand. Valerie sat beside her, arm slung over the back cushion, fingers occasionally drifting to brush Judy’s hair or shoulder, always gently, like habit.

Sera sprawled out on the floor, camera in hand, flipping through the fresh Polaroids again with Sandra’s chin resting on her shoulder from behind. Every so often, one of them would nudge the other with a quiet laugh, trading comments only they seemed to fully understand.

“Still can’t believe you got that junction shot,” Judy murmured, nodding at one of the Polaroids. “The balance, the light. That’s not a beginner’s hand.”

Sera smirked. “Well, I had a pretty solid mentor. Though she didn’t say anything about jumping off collapsing rooftops.”

“Must’ve skipped that lesson,” Valerie muttered dryly.

Sandra chuckled and nuzzled into Sera’s neck. “Maybe next time we go, we will take your moms with us. Supervised chaos.”

Valerie arched her brow. “I’ll bring a first-aid kit.”

The room eased into quiet again, music playing low over the speaker an acoustic track, soft chords and humming vocals that needed no words.

Sera sat up slowly, resting her arms over her knees. “You know… sometimes I forget what this feels like.”

Judy tilted her head. “What does?”

“This,” she said. “Being home. All of us. It used to be all the time, then missions started picking up, and Highland Junction was its own kind of storm.”

Sandra nodded softly beside her.

Valerie leaned forward. “Well, maybe tonight we make it the start of something regular again.”

“Dinner every week?” Judy added.

Sera smiled. “Think I’d like that.”

Another pause. Another small breath of peace filling the cracks.

Then Sera pulled her camera from her lap and pointed it at the couch.

“No flash,” she said. “Just… stay like that.”

Judy laughed, leaning a little further into Valerie’s side. “We look that good, huh?”

Sera grinned. “You always have.”

The shutter clicked. Just once. Just enough.

No posing, or warning.

Just two women, tangled in soft light and years of love, surrounded by the family they’d fought to build.

Judy gave it a beat before turning to Sandra with a soft smile. “It’s nice seeing you both still so happy. You always make dinner feel like a celebration.”

Sandra returned the grin, looping her arm around Sera’s waist. “Can’t beat home cooking.”

Sera leaned in and hugged Judy. “See you soon. Love you.”

Judy smiled. “Love you more.”

Another round of hugs Valerie pulled Sandra into a one-armed squeeze, then resting her forehead briefly against Sera’s with a murmured, “Get home safe, Starshine.”

Sera nodded. “Always.”

When the door finally closed, the house fell into a hush. The kind that only came after a night full of stories, food, and the kind of laughter that left ribs sore.

Judy turned toward Valerie with a tired little smile, slipping her arms around her waist. “Dinner goddess duties are officially over,” she murmured, then stole a kiss. “I’m claiming a shower before I fall over.”

Valerie chuckled softly. “Earned it. Go.”

But her voice was far away.

Judy caught the shift in her expression how it lingered, unfocused. She pressed a gentle kiss to Valerie’s forehead before disappearing down the hallway. Valerie waited until she heard the water start, then wandered outside barefoot, letting the sliding door click shut behind her.

The night had settled into stillness.

The deck swing creaked softly as she lowered herself into it, arms draped across the worn backrest, head tilted toward the lake. The moon was a thin slice of silver above the water, just enough to scatter light over the surface. Ripples caught it like breath.

Valerie’s breath caught too.

She didn’t know how long she sat there. Just that the quiet was different now. Not oppressive. But not easy, either.

The door opened again.

Barefoot steps. A towel-damp scent of lavender and steam. Judy’s voice, low and gentle behind her.

“There you are.”

Valerie didn’t move. Just exhaled, slow and steady. “Yeah.”

Judy slid onto the swing beside her, hip pressed against hers, but didn’t speak right away. She didn’t need to. Valerie’s posture said everything. Shoulders drawn, fingers curled tight, eyes lost somewhere past the horizon.

“Talk to me,” Judy said softly.

Valerie looked down at her hands. “Every time we build peace... something tries to take it away.”

Judy tilted her head. “Nothing’s trying to take it now.”

“I know,” she said. “But I can’t stop thinking about… all of it. Not just what we lived through. But the choices we made. The lines we crossed. The ones we didn’t.”

Judy’s voice was barely more than a whisper. “You thinking about Mikoshi?”

Valerie shook her head. “I’m thinking about what comes after. What it means to carry all that weight… and still call yourself good.”

The wind stirred the lake again, silent and listening.

Judy didn’t push. Just leaned into her, quiet and steady. The wind rustled the trees in the distance. Somewhere across the lake, a loon called out melancholy and haunting, like memory itself.

Valerie finally broke the silence.

“Do you ever think about… how long I might live?”

Judy blinked. “You mean… cause of the chip?”

Valerie nodded slowly. “If it holds. If nothing happens. I could be here long after you’re gone. Maybe forever. Or maybe it’ll fail tomorrow. I don’t know.”

Judy tilted her head, studying her. “And that scares you?”

“No,” Valerie said. “Not the dying. It's not dying that keeps me up some nights.”

Judy’s lips parted, but no words came.

Valerie looked down at her hands. “The chip’s stable. Still. But nothing’s perfect. Components degrade. Connections fail. One day it might just… stop. And if I’m still in this body when that happens, it’ll be like natural death. The kind I used to accept.”

“And if it doesn’t stop?” Judy asked gently.

Valerie’s jaw clenched. “Then what happens when you’re gone, Jude? When Sera’s gone. When I’ve outlived every laugh line and sunrise we ever shared?”

Judy’s hand found hers, fingers lacing slowly. “Then you’ll have to choose.”

Valerie looked at her. “That’s what scares me the most. That I’ll have to make that choice alone.”

Judy leaned in closer, voice low and certain. “You won’t. Not ever.”

“But…”

“No,” she said, firmer now. “If it ever comes to that… we will talk about it. Together. Like always.”

Valerie looked away. “What if I don’t want to keep going without you?”

Judy’s voice broke just slightly, but her grip didn’t. “Then don’t. But don’t decide now. Don’t write the end just because the middle’s hard to hold.”

A long silence followed. Not cold. Just full.

“I could… erase myself,” Valerie murmured. “When the time comes. Make that my end. On my terms. Not trapped. Not wandering. Just… done.”

Judy didn’t flinch. “I’d understand. But not today.”

They both exhaled at the same time.

The moon drifted behind a cloud. The water stilled.

Valerie’s voice was smaller than before. “I don’t want to be a ghost who forgot how to stop.”

“You’re not,” Judy said. “You’re the woman who made life mean something again for all of us.”

“And if I forget?”

Judy kissed her temple. “Then I’ll remind you. For as long as I’m here.”

Another silence followed, this one softer, more bearable. A stillness wrapped in the comfort of not needing an answer tonight.

Just two souls.

Still choosing each other.

Judy didn’t say anything at first. She just moved closer, arms slipping around Valerie with the kind of ease that comes from a thousand yesterdays spent choosing each other. The swing creaked softly beneath them as she pulled Valerie into her chest.

“Stray bullets aside,” she whispered near her ear, “we still have a full life ahead of us.”

Her breath was warm, grounding.

“So let’s focus on today,” she continued, “like we always have.”

Valerie nodded faintly against her, but Judy wasn’t done. She gently shifted, pressing her forehead to Valerie’s, hands cradling her cheeks, her thumbs brushing the edges of thought and worry.

Their eyes met, and held.

“You remember why it mattered so much?” Judy asked, voice low. “All of it?”

Valerie’s throat tightened.

“Because we never knew how long we had,” Judy said. “So we lived every day like it might be the last. And that made it beautiful.”

The sync pulsed.

Unconscious, intimate, and natural.

Valerie saw flickers of snippets of memory blooming behind her eyes. Laughter over burnt toast in the lakehouse kitchen. The sound of Sera’s footsteps racing down the hall at thirteen. The wind on Judy’s face the first time she drove the old Shion down an open stretch of empty highway. The proposal in the glow of Laguna Bend, fingers trembling, lips steady.

None of them were perfect, but all of them were vivid.

She reached up and traced her fingers lightly along Judy’s jaw, letting her thoughts press back through the relay, an echo of every time Judy pulled her from the brink, every breath she gave back just by being there.

Their connection shimmered. Not just tech, or data. Not even memory.

Love, threaded through time and circuitry.

Judy’s lips parted slightly, her voice caught. “That’s why we never wasted a second.”

Valerie pressed a soft kiss to her cheek. “And never will.”

Valerie cupped Judy’s cheek, fingers gentle but firm, guiding her gaze back up.

“I always fought to ensure no stray bullets ever found you,” she said, her voice steady but low, laced with conviction. “Merc days are behind me, and music is my future, but no matter what I’ll still make damn sure that never happens.”

The words settled like a promise woven through the twilight air.

She took a breath, lingering on the edge of something deeper. Judy felt it in the pause in the weight behind her silence.

So she waited.

Valerie exhaled slowly, like unspooling a truth she’d held too long. “I want to ensure that I can always keep that promise. You built the Engram Stability Unit for me when I was attacked… pieced me back together through my echoes.” She hesitated, voice softer now. “I’d rather ensure my life is a long one. I like the thought of us both being a hundred years old, still sitting on this swing, yelling at the wind for no other reason than just to be.”

Judy let out a quiet laugh part amused, part choked. “We’d be the terror of the lake,” she whispered with a watery grin.

But even in her smile, she could feel Valerie’s heart still open, still unfolding.

So she reached up and covered Valerie’s hand with hers, thumb brushing slow circles over her knuckles. Waiting again.

Then Valerie’s voice came, quiet and unflinching.

“You’re the only person I trust with me, Jude. I can’t do a damn thing when my chip is unslotted, but… please help me be here with you.”

Judy didn’t answer with words. Not yet.

She leaned in, resting her forehead against Valerie’s once more. Let her eyes close. Let the moment breathe.

Then, softly, she said, “You’ve always been here. Even when the world tried to take you away.”

She opened her eyes, locking into Valerie’s again clear, fierce, and full of devotion.

“If there’s a way to give us a hundred more years, I’ll find it. And if all we’ve got is tomorrow? Then I’m spending it right here. With you.”

The swing creaked gently beneath them as the wind curled around the deck cool and quiet and alive.

Not a future written in fear. Just a life being written together. One moment at a time.

Then, softly, Judy stirred. Her fingers slid along Valerie’s wrist and found her hand.

“No more talks of the future tonight,” she murmured, lifting her gaze. “Can you play me that song you were working on? The one you said wasn’t for the album.”

Valerie’s mouth lifted into something soft. “You want that one?”

Judy nodded. “Yeah. I’ve heard your soul on stages... I wanna hear your heart when it’s just for me.”

Valerie let her palm rest gently against her chest, right over where her heart still beat, stubborn and full. “I would love to.” She stood, kissed Judy’s forehead, and whispered, “Give me a sec.”

She disappeared inside.

The door creaked open again moments later, moonlight catching the shimmer of her wooden acoustic guitar as she stepped back onto the deck.

She didn’t go back to the swing.

Instead, she leaned against the deck railing, one foot hooked behind the other, guitar resting casually against her thigh.

Then she glanced at Judy, fingers poised on the strings, and just for a moment she flicked the relay to life. A soft pulse of sync light shimmered beneath the skin behind Valerie’s ear.

Judy blinked, and then saw herself through Valerie’s eyes. The way the moon traced soft edges across her cheeks. The gentle curve of her knees pulled close to her chest. Her glow. Her gravity.

Judy’s breath caught.

“I feel you, Val,” she whispered.

Valerie winked. “Just wanted you to know what I see every time I look at you.”

Then she began to play.

The first chord rang out, full and low. Valerie lingered on it. Let it hum in the wood. Let it breathe.

“Didn’t need a song on the radio…”

Her voice was hushed. Not hesitant or intimate. Like every syllable was a secret.

“Didn’t need a crowd or a place to go…”

Judy’s hand covered her mouth. The first tears came quiet.

“Just your hand finding mine
And the sky letting go…”

Valerie let her fingers move slowly, letting each note stretch and fall like raindrops into silence. Judy felt the heat of the lights that once bore down on Valerie at the concert, but this wasn’t that. This wasn't a performance. This was everything else. The parts no one saw.

“Bare feet on old stone
Streetlights flicker like they know
Every heartbeat, every breath
Takes its cue from your soul…”

Judy swore she felt the rhythm inside her chest not the beat of the guitar, but her own heart syncing to Valerie’s voice.

“So let it rain, let it pour
I’ll hold you close forevermore
The world can spin, the storm can swell
But here with you, I move so well…”

Valerie’s voice cracked on “so well”, but she didn’t stop. Just shifted her stance, eyes still on Judy.

“In this quiet, in this grace
No one else, no other place
Just a slow dance in the rain
And your love, soft as my name…”

Judy whispered, almost inaudibly, “I love this line…”

Valerie smiled. Played on.

“Your hair clung to your cheeks
Lashes wet, but your smile speaks
No makeup, no masks, just you
And I’ve never seen a clearer view…”

“My jacket draped around your frame
You whispered, ‘Stay,’ I said, ‘Always’
We swayed like time was ours to spend
No start, no need to end…”

Judy closed her eyes and mouthed “Always.”

“So let it rain, let it pour
I’ll hold you close forevermore
The world can spin, the storm can swell
But here with you, I move so well…”

Valerie stepped closer now, every note drawing her toward Judy like a tether.

“In this quiet, in this grace
No one else, no other place
Just a slow dance in the rain
And your love, soft as my name…”

“Each droplet a vow we never spoke
Each step a tether we never broke
No audience, no need to prove
Only two hearts that always knew…”

Valerie knelt in front of her now, still playing, eyes locked to Judy’s as the last verse wrapped around them like arms:

“Let it rain, and let it fall
We’ve weathered harder, we’ve had it all
But this moment? This gentle sway?
It’s why I’ll choose you every day…”

“With the sky and the storm as our refrain
We find forever in the rain
A slow dance, a quiet flame
And your love, soft as my name…”

The final note hovered in the air.

Then fell.

Valerie lowered the guitar gently beside her, leaned forward, and pressed her forehead to Judy’s.

“I wrote that in pieces,” she whispered. “Every quiet moment with you built it.”

Judy smiled through quiet tears. “That song... it’s not music. It’s us.”

Valerie set the guitar down beside the swing without a word. Judy was already reaching for her, arms open in that familiar way like she’d been waiting to hold her all night.

Valerie slid into her embrace without hesitation, curling sideways into Judy’s lap, head tucked beneath her chin. Judy’s arms wrapped around her, warm and steady, one hand stroking through damp red strands where they still clung to Valerie’s neck from the earlier shower.

The world had shrunk again.

Not to a stage, or a song. Just to this.

Moonlight scattered over the deck in silver patches, casting the wooden slats in shifting shadows as the wind moved gently across the lake. The guitar rested nearby like a silent witness, its strings still humming the memory of Valerie’s voice.

Judy let her fingers drift in slow, absent patterns along Valerie’s back. “You always write about us like it’s the end of the world,” she murmured.

Valerie gave a soft laugh against her collarbone. “Maybe it feels that big sometimes.”

Judy tilted her head, resting her cheek on top of Valerie’s. “Tonight it didn’t. Felt like... the beginning.”

Valerie’s arms tightened around her waist. “That’s the part that scares me, Jude. I never thought I’d get to have beginnings.”

“You do,” Judy whispered. “With me? You always will.”

They rocked gently in the swing, their rhythm slower than the lake breeze. Valerie let her eyes fall shut, lulled by the warmth, the closeness, the heartbeat beneath her ear.

“Promise me something?” she murmured.

“Anything.”

“Even if my voice fades one day. Even if my hands stop playing… you’ll still be here. Just like this.”

Judy smiled against her hair. “Even if you forget the chords. Even if you start yelling at the wind when we’re old and creaky I’ll be right here.”

Valerie chuckled, breath catching slightly on something tender. “I love you.”

“I know,” Judy whispered. “You show me every day.”

And they stayed like that, wrapped in each other, no need for tech, or syncs, or memory feeds. Just skin against skin. Heart against heart. The quiet kind of forever you don’t write songs about, because you’re too busy living it.

The swing creaked gently beneath them, the sound a lullaby all its own. Above, the sky stretched wide and endless, pinpricked with stars, some flickering, some steady like notes on a page only the two of them could read.

Valerie breathed in deep. The air smelled like pine and lake water, the last traces of rain clinging to the earth. Judy’s skin was warm beneath her cheek, her breath rising and falling in a rhythm that matched the sway of the swing.

No words left to say.

None needed.

Judy’s fingers slowed in their motion along Valerie’s spine, finally settling just between her shoulder blades, where they rested like a promise. Valerie’s arms stayed wrapped around her waist, legs curled gently to the side, as if her entire body was molded to the shape of Judy’s existence.

A soft hum vibrated from Judy’s chest low and quiet. Maybe a tune from earlier. Maybe something new.

Valerie shifted only enough to kiss the space just under her jaw, then tucked herself in tighter.

The stars above kept their silent vigil.

The wind stirred the surface of the lake, gentle ripples chasing moonlight across the water. Somewhere in the trees, a nightbird called once, then went quiet as if even nature had learned to respect the sanctity of this moment.

Valerie blinked slowly, lashes heavy. “Don’t let go,” she mumbled, her voice half-asleep already.

“Never,” Judy whispered, brushing her lips to her temple.

And they stayed like that, two souls tangled together on a swing just above the edge of forever, rocking in the arms of night.

Sleep came soft and slow, with no dreams but each other.

Chapter Text

The first thing Sera felt was warmth, not just the sunlight slipping through the linen curtains, but the quiet weight of Sandra curled against her, one bare leg tangled with hers beneath the sheets.

Sera didn’t move at first. She just watched the slow rise and fall of Sandra’s chest, the way a few strands of her dark brown hair clung to her lips, the way her hand had instinctively rested on Sera’s stomach sometime during the night like it always did. Protective, intimate, and hers.

She leaned in and kissed Sandra’s forehead gently. “Morning, Mrs. Alvarez.”

Sandra stirred, eyes still shut, lips curving lazily into a smile. “Mm. Say it again.”

Sera chuckled softly. “Good morning, my wife.”

Sandra cracked one brown eye open and reached up, fingers brushing along Sera’s jaw. “That’ll never stop sounding good.”

They didn’t rush, they didn't need to. There was no job to prepare for, no calls to answer. The only thing on their shared calendar today was each other.

Sera’s voice was soft, still wrapped in sleep. “Are you still thinking about the coast? Warm sand, open skies, a bed just like this one, but with ocean waves?”

Sandra nodded, tracing the line of Sera’s shoulder with the backs of her fingers. “I’m thinking wherever we go, we don’t take any weapons. No armor, no augments, no chrome talk. Just us.”

“And a camera,” Sera added, grinning now. “I want to take one Polaroid every day. A whole strip of days that belong to just us.”

Sera added, grinning now, “I want to take one Polaroid every day. A whole strip of days that belong to just us.”

Sandra smiled, fingers brushing a strand of red hair behind her ear. “One photo a day, and I’ll kiss you after every single one.”

Sera stretched with a soft groan, rolling against her. “Bold promise. I take a lot of pictures.”

Sandra kissed her shoulder. “Good. I never planned on stopping anyway.”

Sandra curled up next to Sera, her cheek resting on her wife’s chest, fingers absently tracing the hem of her Clan Alvarez tank top. “You know…” she murmured, voice still thick with sleep, “we don’t have to get up yet.”

Sera smirked, eyes closed, arms wrapped securely around Sandra’s back. “Wasn’t planning on it.”

Sandra shifted slightly, pressing a light kiss to the spot just above Sera’s heart. “What if we stayed like this forever?”

“I’d miss breakfast,” Sera teased, brushing her fingers gently along Sandra’s spine. “But I’d be okay with that.”

A soft laugh vibrated against her chest. “We’ve skipped meals for worse reasons.”

“True,” Sera said, eyes opening slowly as she looked down at her. “Like that time we got snowed in and lived on hot cocoa and marshmallows for two days.”

“And I still managed to take the cutest photo of you half-buried in blankets like a grumpy burrito.”

Sera snorted. “Grumpy burrito? Rude. I was strategically insulated.”

Sandra leaned up just enough to meet her lips in a kiss, slow, smiling, and familiar. “Whatever you say, commander.”

Sera rolled them gently so they were face to face, nose to nose. “Don’t make me call in a snuggle lockdown.”

“Ooh, is that a threat or a promise?” Sandra asked, eyebrows lifting with playful challenge.

“Why not both?” Sera murmured before pulling her close again.

They lay like that, hearts pressed close, laughter fading into that quiet sort of peace only found in mornings like this where the world felt soft, time stretched lazy, and love was the only thing moving.

No alarms, no mission briefs. Just the breath of their forever, starting with one more minute under the covers.

Eventually, it was the promise of food, or maybe the smell of coffee still lingering from last night that stirred them to move.

Sera stretched first, arms overhead, a quiet groan escaping as her spine popped in protest. Sandra rolled onto her side and watched with a grin, chin propped on her hand. “Still think you’re gonna be the one carrying me through the honeymoon?”

“Please.” Sera smirked, swinging her legs over the edge of the bed. “I’ve been carrying your ass since we were twelve.”

Sandra stood, tugging the hem of her tank top down. “You also tripped over a rake trying to impress me once.”

“That rake was poorly placed and I stand by that.”

They both laughed, the kind of easy, lived-in laughter that came with years of inside jokes and shared mornings. Sandra tossed Sera her hoodie, then slipped into one of her own one of Sera’s old ones with the faded Alvarez crest on the sleeve.

The kitchen greeted them with soft light spilling through the windows and the quiet hum of birds outside. Sandra moved to start coffee while Sera opened the fridge.

“Scrambled or sunny side up?” Sera asked, already cracking eggs into a bowl.

Sandra poured two mugs of coffee, sliding one across the counter. “Surprise me. As long as there’s toast.”

“Always toast,” Sera said, grabbing the pan.

They moved easily around each other with no choreography, just muscle memory. A dance built on morning routines and burned toast recoveries. Sera stirred eggs, Sandra sliced fruit. A soft song played from a nearby speaker, low and breezy.

“I was thinking,” Sandra said, handing her a fork. “During breakfast we could talk about our honeymoon plans.”

Sera grinned. “You already have ideas, don’t you?”

“Sandra smirked. Maybe.”

Sera bumped her shoulder as they sat down. “Alright. Let’s hear ‘em over eggs.”

The morning stretched forward, not rushed, and not over-planned.

They settled at the small table near the kitchen window, plates clinking gently as they dug in. Morning light filtered through the glass, casting a slow golden wash over the table. Sera shoveled in a bite of eggs, her foot nudging Sandra’s under the table.

Sandra smiled and didn’t pull away. She reached for her coffee, took a sip, and let the silence stretch for just a moment before speaking.

“So…” she began, eyes on her plate, “I was thinking about Crescent Bay.”

Sera tilted her head. “You bought us tickets already didn't you?”

Sandra nodded, finally lifting her gaze. “Sure did. The whole trip. There’s this place right by the cliffs. Dome-style cabins with skylights you can see the stars even from bed.”

A pause.

Sera smiled. “You wanna stargaze with me on our honeymoon?”

Sandra’s cheeks pinked, but she didn’t look away. “It felt poetic. We started under the stars.”

Sera leaned her cheek into her palm, elbow on the table, eyes soft. “You really planned this?”

Sandra reached for her coffee, grinning around the rim. “I just wanted to do it right. I booked the train from Klamath Rails, direct to Crescent Bay. Should only take a few hours. Then it’s just us. Ocean breeze, cliffside views, and nothing to rush for.”

Sera exhaled slowly, like the thought alone loosened something inside her. “That sounds… perfect.”

Sandra shrugged, smiling like her heart was about to burst. “We deserve it.”

Sera reached across the table, fingertips brushing Sandra’s knuckles. “Yeah. We really do.”

Sera sat back, watching her with something soft and heavy in her gaze. “You’ve been planning this for a while, huh?”

“Since the day you asked me to marry you.”

Sera exhaled a quiet breath and reached across the table, threading their fingers together.

“You’re gonna make me cry into my eggs, babe.”

Sandra gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “We’ve earned this. After everything we deserve some wonder.”

The only sound for a moment was the clink of their silverware and the low murmur of the wind brushing past the windowpanes.

Then Sera smirked. “Do you think those dome cabins come with soundproofing?”

Sandra just laughed. “Guess we’ll have to test it.”

Late morning sunlight spilled across the bedroom floor in lazy, golden lines. An open duffel sat on the bed between them, half-full of rolled-up clothes, chargers, and travel odds and ends. Sandra knelt beside it, folding a sweater with clinical precision while Sera lay sprawled on her stomach nearby, chin resting on her crossed arms.

“You’re folding things like we’re joining a military retreat,” Sera muttered, watching her with a lopsided grin.

Sandra didn’t look up. “That’s because if I let you pack, we’d end up with three tank tops, one sock, and your old Stars of the Moon hoodie.”

Sera reached lazily to tug at Sandra’s ankle. “That hoodie’s lucky.”

Sandra giggled. “It’s full of holes.”

Sera smirked.“ You mean character."

Sandra raised an eyebrow, then leaned down to press a kiss to Sera’s temple. “I’m not stopping you from bringing it. I’m just making sure you also bring pants.”

Sera snorted. “We’re going to spend most of our time not wearing pants, if you remember your own itinerary.”

“Oh, I remember.” Sandra’s voice dipped as she glanced sideways at her. “Which is why I’m packing light.”

That earned a raised brow and a wicked grin from Sera. “See, that’s the strategic thinking I married you for.”

Sandra shook her head, a smile creeping back. “Come on, help me double-check the list. Clothes, gear, camera…”

Sera reached over and held up a little leather case. “Film rolls. Can’t believe you thought I’d forget.”

Sandra softened at that. “Good. I want to see the world through your eyes this time.”

They took a pause then quiet but full before Sera finally sat up, brushing her hands over her knees.

“Y’know… this feels real now.”

Sandra looked at her. “What does?”

“The honeymoon. Us. This life. All of it. It’s not just something we talked about as kids anymore. It’s happening.”

Sandra stood, crossed the room, and wrapped her arms around her from behind. “It’s been happening since the day we fell asleep on that couch watching old brain dances with popcorn in our hair.”

Sera tilted her head back. “You think we’ll still be doing that when we’re old?”

Sandra kissed her cheek. “Absolutely. But next time, we’ll be yelling at the wind like your moms.”

Sera laughed. “Can’t wait.”

They gathered the bags, and headed out to the rig.

The last duffel zipped closed with a satisfying chk-zip, and Sera flopped back dramatically onto the seat inside the rig, arms spread wide.

“That’s it. We’re officially packed. Feels like we’re leaving for a year.”

Sandra chuckled from the other side, shutting the door with a practiced flick. “You brought three books, your sketchpad, a dozen film rolls, and two jackets. You’re not exactly roughing it.”

“I’m emotionally preparing,” Sera muttered. “You know how I get if I forget something.”

Screwbie’s voice kicked on from the dashboard, static-laced and smug as always. “You forgot your dignity the last time you tried to freestyle down at the arcade. Want me to pull up the footage?”

Sandra winced. “Screwbie.”

“Right, right. Driver mode. Engaging autonomous route to Klamath Station. No promises on a smooth rideI’m feeling petty today.”

The rig purred to life, easing itself from the driveway as the morning wind carried the scent of pine and dew off the lake. Behind them, the house stood quiet and sun-kissed, windows catching light like soft memories.

As the road curved past the tree line, Sera leaned forward and adjusted the tuner.

“Let’s see what 92.1 Dust and Vinyl’s spinning this morning…”

A low crackle, a burst of old-time static and then a warm, familiar voice filled the rig.

“This is Dust and Vinyl, comin’ to you live from the edge of progress. They say the new rail line’s runnin’ smoother than a jazz solo at midnight. The Host’s latest baby stretches all the way from Klamath Falls to the southern valleys. Looks like Oregon’s finally stitched together again, piece by piece. Next up, a little love song to start your day off right…”

Valerie’s concert version of Love Through Loss started playing.

Sera reached over and grabbed Sandra’s hand without thinking.

The road ahead unwound gently beneath the rig’s tires, fields and old ruins giving way to newer infrastructure, modular stations, solar towers, even fresh mural tags sprayed by local crews celebrating the 10-year rebuild effort. A thin steel line shimmered in the distance, the new railway slicing through the hills like a promise made real.

Screwbie whistled low. “Progress, huh? Shame I still gotta deal with your weird snack crumbs in the glovebox.”

“Jealousy’s not a good color on you,” Sera muttered, and Sandra grinned at the exchange.

But her eyes stayed on the horizon, where the station waited in quiet anticipation of their first stop.

“Think we’ll make the afternoon train?” Sera asked.

Sandra gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “We’ll make it.”

They didn’t need to rush. Not yet. The whole world felt like it was finally catching up to their pace.

The sun sat low in the sky, casting warm light across the railway platform as the soft rumble of an approaching train echoed in the distance. Their rig was already parked nearby, Screwbie humming quietly in standby mode autopilot engaged for the trip home.

Sera slung her duffel over one shoulder and reached back for Sandra’s hand. “You got the Polaroid?”

Sandra patted her jacket pocket with a grin. “Always.”

They stepped up to the bench to wait out the final ten minutes, bags stacked neatly beside them.

Sera pulled out her holo and tapped to call.

“Hey,” Valerie’s voice answered, warm with the sounds of dinner prep faintly in the background. “Everything good?”

“Yeah. We’re all packed, train’s about to pull in.” Sera gave a soft laugh. “Just wanted to hear from you before we go off-grid for a bit.”

“Glad you did,” Valerie said. “You two enjoy every second, alright? First trip as wives make it count.”

Sera smiled, tucking her knees up on the bench. “We will. You tell Mama I love her?”

“She’s right here…” Valerie turned away from the mic for a beat. “Jude, Sera says she loves you.”

Judy’s voice came faint but clear: “Love you too, mi cielo. Stay safe.”

Sera’s voice dropped, sincere. “We will. Love you both.”

They disconnected just as Sandra finished her own call to Panam, lowering her holo with a grin. “She said to bring her back something weird and dusty. I think she misses being out here.”

Sera chuckled. “She always does.”

The platform lights flicked on as the train approached, its headlights slicing across the tracks. Sera turned back toward the rig and shouted, “Screwbie, don’t crash into anything on the way home!”

The AI responded in his usual grumble. “Only if someone jumps in front of me like a stupid meatball.”

“Charming as ever,” Sandra muttered.

The train slowed to a stop, doors hissing open with a low chime. Sera grabbed one bag, Sandra the other. They paused at the door, exchanging one last glance as the wind kicked up around them.

“Let’s go have the start of forever,” Sera said, voice low and thrilled.

Sandra bumped her shoulder gently. “Yeah. Let’s do it right.”

They boarded side by side, disappearing into the soft light of the cabin.

The train hissed gently as it settled into place, a fusion of old-world design and cutting-edge engineering. Its frame was long and low, built with the silhouette of a classic steamliner but humming with the quiet thrum of modern electric drive. Arched windows framed each cabin, and golden trim caught the afternoon light like burnished metal from another age.

Instead of soot and smoke, soft LED rails lined the undercarriage, glowing with a pulse that matched the track signals. A subtle voice drifted from the overhead speakers calm, warm, undeniably artificial.

Painted on the side in elegant black script was the route name: Horizon Line 3 – Crescent Bay Coastal Express.

Inside, the train breathed comfort. The benches were padded with stitched leather, wood-paneled trim ran along the walls, and tall windows framed the scenery like moving artwork. The lights above were shaped like classic lanterns, casting a soft gold hue over everything.

Sera heaved their bags into the overhead rack while the final boarding chime echoed through the cabin. Sandra was already seated, her back against the window, one arm draped lazily across the seat.

“I still can’t believe we’re doing this,” she said with a small, radiant smile. “Crescent Bay, Firebird. Actual ocean breeze. Real sand. No mission. Just us.”

Sera settled in beside her, pulling her jacket loose around her waist. “Damn right. Lodge right on the cliffs, remember? You wanted something with a view.”

Sandra bumped her shoulder. “I wanted something with you.”

That earned a smirk. Sera looked out the window just as the train began to slide forward, trees flickering by in streaks of green and gold.

“Feels kinda surreal,” Sera murmured. “Usually when we board a train, it’s to chase someone or blow something up.”

“Well,” Sandra said, lacing her fingers with hers, “if the only thing we explode is champagne... I’ll survive.”

They laughed softly, the train gliding into its journey. Outside, the forests of inland Oregon began giving way to rising slopes and wide, open skies, the early promise of coastal light painting the edge of the world ahead.

The hum of the train settled into their bones, soft and constant like a lullaby made of steel and distance. Their booth caught the perfect slant of sunlight filtered through wide glass windows that stretched nearly floor to ceiling. Crescent Bay wasn’t far, but the line took its time, winding past forgotten farms and fresh pine groves, letting the world breathe.

Sera leaned her head against the window, fingers still laced with Sandra’s. “You think it’ll smell like salt and sky when we get there?”

Sandra tilted her head toward her, smiling. “It already does a little.”

They sat in a long silence, not out of things to say, just content not to rush them. A hawk soared past the window. Sera’s thumb brushed along Sandra’s ring, that slow, familiar loop.

“You remember our first train ride?” she asked.

Sandra’s smile widened. “Yeah. You kept pressing your forehead to the glass like you were trying to melt through it.”

“Couldn’t believe I was leaving home. It felt like I was dreaming.”

Sandra squeezed her hand. “Now we’re going on our honeymoon. Still dreaming?”

Sera looked at her not just her face, but all the years they’d carried to get here. “If I am, I’m not waking up.”

The train curved wide along a ridge, and suddenly the ocean revealed itself in the distance flat and endless, glittering like a secret only they were allowed to see. The kind of view that didn’t ask for words.

Sandra reached into her jacket pocket, and pulled out her Polaroid, eyes sparkling. “Don’t move.”

Sera grinned, already posing, her arm draped across the back of the booth.

Click.

The photo ejected with a soft mechanical whirr. Sandra fanned it gently. “First picture of the honeymoon.”

Sera leaned in and kissed her cheek. “Make sure you’re in the second one.”

The train hissed to a stop, its long silver body gleaming beneath the afternoon sun. Crescent Bay Station was smaller, more of a viewing platform than a terminal tucked against a hillside where land met ocean. As Sera and Sandra stepped onto the wooden deck, the world unfolded before them.

It was breathtaking.

The ocean stretched wide and open, light skipping across the waves in fractured silver lines. A ribbon of trail carved gently along the cliffs, winding past wildflowers and wind-bent trees, leading toward the beachside cabins in the distance small domes of glass and wood nestled like sleeping stars among the dunes.

Sera set her bag down for a second and took it all in, hands on her hips. “Okay… this might actually top the stargazing.”

Sandra laughed, brushing a breeze-tossed curl behind her ear. “You haven’t even seen the inside yet.”

They grabbed their bags and started walking, boots crunching lightly over the gravel path. The air carried a salty crispness, soft and clean, with just a hint of pine drifting from the inland trees.

Fifteen minutes. That was all it took. But each step felt like shedding weight. Like the noise of the world stayed behind at the platform.

The trail narrowed into a small dune path, where ocean grass swayed gently and sand gave way underfoot. Finally, the cabin came into view half wood, half curved glass, tucked against a slope overlooking the ocean. A small solar panel array sat angled beside it, silent and efficient.

Sera exhaled, long and slow. “You really found us a place at the edge of the world.”

Sandra grinned, eyes reflecting the ocean. “Exactly where we belong.”

They climbed the last few steps toward the cabin porch. No other buildings in sight. Just them, the endless ocean, and a sky waiting to be painted with stars.

Sandra slid the keycard across the lock panel. The door clicked open with a gentle hiss.

“Welcome home,” she said, softly.

Sera kissed her temple as they stepped inside.

The door gave way with a soft glide, letting in the ocean breeze and the quiet hush of waves below.

The cabin was one large open space with curved walls of treated glass arching overhead like a dome, framed with warm cedar beams that smelled faintly of salt and sun. The bed sat in the center, low and wide, piled with ocean-toned pillows and linen sheets that whispered against each other as Sandra set her bag down nearby. At the head of the bed, the wall was half-stone, half wood-shelving, with a small fireplace set just under the built-in screen and speaker system.

Above them, the ceiling faded into glass pure and clear. Through it, clouds rolled slowly and lazy, like the sky itself was stretching after a long nap.

Sera walked to the center of the room and spun slowly in place, taking it all in. “Okay, yeah… this might be my new favorite place on Earth.”

Sandra laughed behind her, already pulling open a side panel where the kitchenette tucked away. Compact, but fully stocked local coffee blends, bottled beach wines, fresh herbs growing in a narrow hydro-tray along the window.

“We’ve got two days,” she said, nudging the drawer of utensils closed with her hip. “Then we head back home”

Sera turned, her expression soft. “Two days of ocean, you, and a bed with a view of the entire damn sky? I’m not in a hurry.”

Sandra stepped closer. “Thought you’d say that.”

They wandered across the soft wood flooring, moving together without rush. Every window looked out to a new kind of quiet seagulls wheeling in the distance, light scattering across the tide, wind combing through the tall grasses surrounding their hideaway.

In the corner, a glass door led to a private wraparound deck. A small hot tub shimmered beneath the overhang. Two loungers were tucked beneath a woven shade. Beyond the deck’s edge nothing but wind, horizon, and the slow, endless ocean.

Sera leaned against the frame of the open door, breathing it all in. “We really did it, huh?”

Sandra wrapped her arms around her waist from behind. “We really did.”

Sandra lingered in Sera’s arms for another breath before slipping away with a gentle kiss to her cheek. She crossed the room to the duffel by the bed, kneeling beside it and flipping open the top.

“Mm-hmm,” she hummed, rummaging through the layers. “And what do we have here…”

Sera leaned against the doorway, watching her with a lazy, content smile. “Don’t tell me I forgot something.”

Sandra didn’t look up, just plucked out a folded piece of fabric and flicked it expertly across the room. It landed right on Sera’s head.

“You forgot something,” she said, smug.

Sera peeled it off and blinked at it. “ I forgot my swimsuit top.”

Sandra smirked. “Thankfully, you married someone who thinks of the things you don’t.”

Sera laughed, stepping further into the room. “I would’ve just stripped and run free.”

Sandra arched her brow. “We are off-grid… but there are still other people here.”

“Let ‘em stare,” Sera said with a shrug, grinning.

“Oh, they would. And then you'd get us banned from Crescent Bay before nightfall.”

Sera stepped close again, folding her arms around Sandra from behind as she looked over her shoulder into the duffel. “So what else did I forget?”

Sandra leaned back into her with a quiet chuckle. “We’ll find out soon enough.”

Sandra turned just enough to glance back at Sera with a mischievous tilt of her head. “Well, since you technically packed half a swimsuit, I guess we’re going in now.”

Sera grinned. “Race you naked.”

Sandra raised both brows. “Oh, you’re bold today.”

“I’m married. I’m always bold.”

They broke apart laughing, moving to opposite sides of the cabin. No walls between them, just soft teasing glances and the faint blush of sunlight painting their skin.

Sera peeled off her shirt and tossed it onto the bed, catching Sandra halfway through shimmying out of her jeans. “Nice view,” she said, leaning back on her heels.

Sandra didn't miss a beat. “Keep talking like that, and we’re never leaving this cabin.”

Sera gave a mock-innocent shrug as she hooked her thumbs into her waistband. “Just giving credit where it’s due.”

They took their time not out of hesitation, but because undressing beside someone you love becomes its own kind of intimacy. Playful nudges, flicks of fabric, fingers grazing arms or hips in passing. They didn’t rush the moment. Why would they?

Sandra pulled the strap of her swimsuit up over her shoulder and turned to find Sera adjusting hers, tangled for the second time.

“Here,” she said gently, stepping in and fixing the twisted strap. Her fingers brushed Sera’s collarbone, lingered. “There.”

Sera looked at her, eyes warm. “Thanks, babe.”

Sandra smiled. “Let’s go pretend we’re the only two people in the world.”

They grabbed their towels, slipped on sandals, and stepped out into the soft golden light. The path to the beach stretched ahead windswept, wild, and waiting.

Together, they walked toward it, hand in hand.

The path curved down from the cabin through windswept grasses, the hush of waves growing louder with each step until the coastline opened wide before them jagged cliffs to the south, a long stretch of sun-drenched sand sprawling out ahead. The ocean shimmered under a cloudless sky, its surface broken only by the occasional glint of gulls overhead. The scent of salt and ozone rode the breeze, stirring the loose strands of Sandra’s hair as she turned to Sera, eyes bright.

“I dare you to catch me,” she said, grinning, already backing away barefoot into the sand.

Sera didn’t hesitate. “Oh, you're on.”

Sandra let out a delighted yelp and bolted across the beach, kicking up bursts of sand with each step. Sera chased after her, laughing, feet pounding the ground in uneven rhythm. They weaved between driftwood and ocean-glass tide lines, dodging the scattered shells like kids set loose from time itself.

“Should’ve brought the camera,” Sera called, half out of breath.

Sandra glanced back over her shoulder, eyes sparkling. “It’s better in motion!”

When Sera finally caught up, she wrapped her arms around Sandra’s waist from behind, nearly toppling them both into the sand. They stumbled, squealed, and collapsed in a heap, tangled limbs and sun-warm laughter.

“Truce?” Sandra offered, brushing hair from Sera’s face.

Sera shook her head, grinning. “Only if you admit I had you cornered.”

Sandra leaned in, their noses brushing. “Fine. I surrender.”

Sera kissed her quickly, sand clinging to her shoulder. “Best surrender ever.”

They lay back on the dunes, side by side, gazing at the water. The ocean was no place to swim, too unstable, too unpredictable in this world, but it still held its ancient magic. The endless horizon. The slow crash of waves. The illusion of peace, distant and unbothered.

Sandra reached over, linking her fingers with Sera’s. “It’s still beautiful, even if we can’t touch it.”

Sera nodded, eyes steady on the waves. “We don’t need to touch everything to love it.”

They stayed there a while longer, side by side in the sand, letting the wind carve new memories across their skin. Just the two of them. Still young, still wild. Still writing their own love story one sunbeam, one laugh, one heartbeat at a time.

By the time they made it back to the cabin, their legs were coated in fine, golden sand, hair tousled by the breeze and their cheeks flushed from laughter. The wooden deck creaked beneath them as they stepped up, barefoot and breathless.

Sandra opened the door with one hand while still holding Sera’s, pulling her inside with a teasing tug. “You’re tracking a whole dune into our honeymoon.”

Sera glanced down at the sand trailing from her calves. “So are you.”

Sandra smirked. “Difference is, I look cute doing it.”

Sera raised a brow. “Then I guess you’re leading the cleanup effort.”

Sandra dropped her grip just long enough to peel off her top, flicking it at Sera’s face before disappearing into the bathroom with a sway of her hips. “I’ll start the water.”

“Hey!” Sera laughed, tugging the fabric off her head. “That’s a war crime.”

She followed anyway, kicking the door shut behind her.

Inside, the shower steamed quickly, fog curling around the glass walls and across the mirror. Sandra stood under the spray already, her back arched as she rinsed sand from her hair, fingers combing through dark strands. Sera stepped in behind her, letting the heat pour over her shoulders, then wrapped her arms loosely around Sandra’s waist from behind.

“You always run faster when you're trying to get away with something,” Sera murmured, lips brushing Sandra’s damp shoulder.

Sandra hummed. “That’s cause you’re always more fun when you're chasing me.”

They turned toward each other, letting the water trace the curve of their backs, fingers working through each other’s hair, across their necks, along their arms, no urgency, just warmth and care and the slow comfort of being known so deeply.

“You missed a spot,” Sera said, trailing her hand over Sandra’s hip with mock seriousness.

Sandra grinned, eyes gleaming through the steam. “Then you better fix it.”

Soft laughter, echoed in droplets. Water pattered against the tiles, a rhythm as steady as their hearts, as they leaned into one another foreheads pressed together, the world small and safe for just a little while longer.

Outside, the wind swept over the dunes.

Inside, love lingered in every drop.

The warm water traced lazy rivulets over their skin, catching the golden hues of the setting sun through the frosted window. Steam curled around them like a veil, fogging the edges of the cabin’s modest shower stall. Sera leaned back against the tiled wall, her eyes fluttering closed for a breath as Sandra pressed close, their bodies still damp with salt-kissed laughter.

Fingers slid through soaked strands of hair, brushing them gently behind Sera’s ear. Sandra kissed the corner of her mouth first just a whisper. Then her jaw. Then lower, the slope of her neck where water pooled and glistened. Sera’s breath hitched, and her arms circled around Sandra’s waist, pulling her close until there was nothing between them but shared heat and heartbeats.

“You always find the places that make me melt,” Sera murmured, voice a husky thread between kisses.

Sandra smiled against her collarbone. “That’s because you’ve never hidden them from me.”

Her lips continued downward, trailing the curve of Sera’s chest with reverence, letting her hands roam not with urgency, but with the curiosity of someone still discovering new constellations in a sky they already knew by heart. Every kiss, every slow drag of tongue against warm skin was a love letter in motion, patient and grounding.

Sera tilted her head back, one hand braced on the misted wall, the other slipping down to brush against Sandra’s shoulder. “You’re not playing fair…”

“I never said I would.” Sandra dropped to her knees on the slick floor, the water cascading over her back, catching the faint glow of the light above. She looked up once, locking eyes with Sera silent request and promise all in one.

Sera’s fingers curled into her damp curls. Her thighs parted instinctively, and her breath came quicker as Sandra leaned in, mouth meeting her with the slow kind of hunger that made the world disappear.

She didn't rush. She savored it. Each movement, each caress of tongue and lips was a memory being made, a vow being spoken without words. Sera’s body trembled under the tenderness, her voice catching in her throat before spilling free in soft, gasped syllables of Sandra’s name.

Time unfurled like steam on glass. And when it crested when the world narrowed to nothing but the swell of Sera’s breath and the grounding heat of Sandra’s hands there was no crashing wave. Only warmth, stillness, and love.

Sandra rose slowly, water trailing down her shoulders, and Sera pulled her into a kiss deep and grateful. They stood there wrapped around each other as the water cooled, lips brushing lazily, hearts still racing in time.

“Remind me to forget the swimsuits next time,” Sera whispered.

Sandra laughed against her lips. “Already planning on it.”

The water slowed to a drizzle, then a stop, steam still curling around their bare shoulders as they stepped out together. Sandra grabbed a towel and wrapped it around Sera first, pressing a kiss to her cheek as she did. Sera returned the favor, tracing her fingers along Sandra’s back while reaching for her own towel, the two of them moving like they’d always shared space this close.

Moments later, barefoot and wrapped in oversized shirts, they padded into the cabin’s main room. The dome roof overhead gave way to a view of a sky slowly blooming into lavender dusk. Golden clouds drifted over the horizon where the ocean kissed the cliffs, the hush of waves a constant lullaby outside.

Sera flopped onto the small loveseat, toweling her hair with one hand while Sandra knelt beside the mini-fridge and pulled out a tray the staff tucked away earlier chilled strawberries, melon slices, and a small bottle of sparkling red wine. Two crystal glasses clinked gently as she set them down.

“Planned this too, huh?” Sera teased, pulling her legs up beneath her.

Sandra grinned and handed her a glass. “Told you. I think of the things you don’t.”

Sera took a slow sip, then leaned over and bit into a strawberry Sandra held out to her. “You’re dangerously close to spoiling me, you know.”

“That was the entire point of this trip,” Sandra said, taking her own sip and settling close, thigh against thigh.

They shared bites of fruit between sips of wine, lazy and playful, giggling when a drop of juice slipped from Sera’s chin and Sandra caught it with her thumb then kissed it off for good measure. The low lights inside the cabin made everything feel golden, like time had stretched just for them.

Eventually, Sandra rested her head on Sera’s shoulder, her fingers grazing over the soft curve of her thigh. “Can you hear it?” she whispered.

“The ocean?”

Sandra nodded. “It’s nice. Not like back home. This is… slower.”

Sera smiled softly, her cheek resting on Sandra’s damp hair. “We earned slower.”

Outside, the wind shifted faintly, carrying the scent of salt and pine. The last light of the day dipped toward the waves.

Inside, it was just them. A little wine. A little fruit, and everything they’d built together moment by moment, kiss by kiss.

The last of the wine sat forgotten on the table, their shared plate of fruit half-eaten, as the sky began to darken into velvet. Sandra shifted slightly, lifting her head from Sera’s shoulder. Her eyes caught the first faint glimmer through the curved dome above.

“Look,” she whispered.

Sera followed her gaze, and sure enough stars. Dozens at first, then hundreds, like the sky had been holding its breath and was finally letting go. The Milky Way shimmered faintly, a brushstroke of light across the heavens.

Without a word, Sera stood and crossed to the old speaker panel near the cabin door. She flicked on 92.1 Dust and Vinyl.

Myles Smith’s Stargazing played low, soft, as if the station knew exactly what moment it had wandered into.

Sera turned slowly, her hand reaching out toward Sandra. Her voice was quiet but steady.

“Dance with me?”

Sandra blinked, caught off guard by how perfect it felt. She slipped off the couch barefoot and crossed the wooden floor without a sound, her fingers finding Sera’s in the dim glow.

They swayed without speaking, bodies close, arms wrapped loosely around each other. The song guided them gently. A slow circle. A tighter embrace. Then forehead to forehead, both of them smiling like they’d just discovered something new in something they already knew.

Sera whispered, “Remember what you said earlier? About stargazing?”

Sandra nodded. “That's why I picked this place.”

“I think,” Sera said, brushing a hand down her back, “every version of every timeline, every world ends up right here. Dancing under this sky.”

Sandra’s voice broke a little on the smile. “You’re such a sap.”

Sera smiled. You married me.”

Sandra let out a faint chuckle. “Best decision I ever made.”

Their eyes stayed locked as they kept swaying, the dome above them filled with a thousand soft-burning lights. The ocean whispered outside, and the music held them in time.

No noise, or rush. Just two hearts, beating to the rhythm of a song that somehow knew their story.

The song faded into the background hum of the ocean breeze, the soft hush of night settling around them. Sera guided Sandra back to the bed, fingers still laced, their steps unhurried now weightless, like the gravity of the world had let go for just a little while.

They turned the lights off.

The stars poured through the curved glass of the skylight, casting pale patterns across the floorboards, the sheets, their skin. Sera pulled back the covers, and Sandra climbed in first, curling to her side. Sera followed, fitting herself into the curve of her back, her arm slipping around Sandra’s waist with practiced ease.

They didn’t speak. There was no need.

Sandra reached up, threading their fingers together where Sera’s hand rested on her stomach. Her thumb moved in slow circles, her breath soft. Sera pressed a light kiss to her shoulder, then settled in, cheek against the pillow, her emerald eyes drawn upward to the stars above.

So many memories had started this way, quiet moments wrapped in each other. But this wasn’t a memory. This was now.

The cabin creaked faintly with the wind. The ocean whispered somewhere beyond the cliffs, and between them, only the rhythmic hush of shared breath.

Sandra’s voice was the last sound before sleep, barely a murmur. “It’s perfect here.”

Sera kissed the back of her neck and whispered, “It’s perfect because you’re here.”

Under the soft glow of starlight, tangled in blankets and each other, they drifted off, no worries, no weight. Just the quiet hum of love holding them safe as the night carried them into dreams.

The sun had risen in soft pastels, casting a golden haze across the ocean. Seafoam glistened where the waves kissed the shore, and the cool morning breeze swept through Sera’s curls as she walked beside Sandra, boots lightly crunching against the sand-dusted trail that wound along the rocky edge of the coast.

Sandra held the vintage camera Judy had given Sera slung across her chest with the strap pulled snug. Every few steps she’d pause, frame something in the viewfinder: weather worn driftwood, the shadow of gulls overhead, Sera laughing with her arms outstretched against the rising wind.

“Hold still,” Sandra murmured, stepping back a pace.

Sera grinned. “You said that five shots ago.”

“I’ll stop when the light stops loving you.”

The click of the shutter followed, quick and sure.

They turned toward a jagged bluff overlooking the deeper swell of the ocean, a place where the waves met the cliffside in thunderous rhythm. It was quiet, sacred in its way until the silence broke.

“Damn, baby. You modelin’ for her private collection?”

Voices. Male. From behind.

Sandra tensed as two punks approached, both dressed in ragged synth leather and half-chrome shades, the kind of scavs who hung near off-grid towns looking for thrills or trouble.

One of them let out a low whistle. “Should’ve brought my cam. Don’t worry, though we got the real thing right here.”

Sera’s expression didn’t change. She stepped forward, deliberately placing herself between Sandra and the two men.

“You’ve got five seconds to turn around,” she said calmly.

The taller one laughed. “That supposed to scare me, sweetheart?”

Sera’s eyes narrowed not with fear, but precision. “I’m not trying to scare you. I’m trying to be polite.”

Sandra reached for Sera’s hand, but her wife didn’t move. She stood her ground, unflinching.

The second punk, sensing the shift, gave a sharp laugh and nudged his friend. “Come on. Let’s not pick a fight. Not worth the stitches.”

The taller one hesitated, then muttered something under his breath and turned. They disappeared down the path, the tension thinning in their wake.

Sera exhaled slowly. Only then did she turn back, brushing her knuckles along Sandra’s cheek.

“You okay?”

Sandra nodded, but her voice cracked slightly. “I hate that people still talk to women like that.”

Sera’s voice was soft but certain. “They can talk all they want. They’ll never touch you.”

Sandra looked at her, heart in her eyes. “That’s exactly how your mom always looked at Judy.”

Sera blinked. Then smiled slowly and proud. “Guess I learned from the best.”

She slipped her hand into Sandra’s, gently guiding her back along the trail. “Come on. You still owe me a dozen more pictures.”

Sandra didn’t say anything for a beat. Then: “You didn’t even blink.”

“I’ve had practice,” Sera said lightly. “You’re not the first treasure I’ve had to defend.”

They walked on, fingers intertwined. The coast stretched ahead and was beautiful and the moment, while bruised, hadn’t broken. It had only shown how far they’d come.

The ocean wind softened as they rounded a bend in the trail, the cliffs giving way to a wide, open beach framed by ocean grass and bleached stone. The horizon had brightened into full morning now, light playing off the tide in liquid gold. Seagulls wheeled overhead, their cries distant, barely audible over the hush of waves.

Sera still held Sandra’s hand as they walked, not tightly, but like a compass gentle and sure. Neither said much for a while. They didn’t need to. The quiet between them felt settled, earned. A kind of silence that only came after facing something together and coming out stronger.

Eventually, Sandra lifted the camera again. She snapped a photo of a cracked shell in the sand. Another of Sera mid-step, sunlight catching the edges of her curls.

“You okay?” Sera asked softly, watching her through the corner of her eye.

Sandra nodded. “Yeah. Just... trying to remember this exactly as it is. So I can hold onto it.”

Sera smiled faintly. “Pretty sure that’s why we brought a camera, babe.”

Sandra grinned and leaned into her side. “Yeah, but not everything fits in a frame.”

They stopped beneath an old lookout post just a wooden platform raised above a dune, maybe a relic from before the Collapse. Sera helped her up first, then followed. From up here, Crescent Bay unfurled in full view sparkling waves, quiet trails, and the faint outline of the small coastal town in the distance.

Sandra rested her head on Sera’s shoulder. “Think this’ll be one of those days we talk about when we’re old?”

Sera reached into her jacket pocket and pulled out a small, polished stone she’d found earlier swirled black and ocean-glass blue. She placed it in Sandra’s palm.

“It already is.”

Sandra stared at it for a beat, then tucked it into the camera case like it was worth more than anything they’d packed.

They sat there a while longer, watching the tide pull in, pull out. Breathing together. Letting the sun warm their skin and the salt air fill their lungs. For now, no scavs, no chaos. Just the coast.

Just them, and the promise that this memory, the quiet strength of it, would never wash away.

The wind picked up, light and playful as it tangled through their hair. From the lookout, they descended the narrow trail again, toes sinking into the cool sand, shoes forgotten somewhere near the driftwood earlier.

Sandra paused every so often to snap photos of weather worn rocks stacked like cairns, a pelican gliding low across the surf, the way Sera’s profile looked against the wash of ocean and sky. Each shutter click felt more like a breath than a task.

Sera watched her with a quiet smile, letting the tide creep close to her ankles. “You’re getting good at that,” she said.

Sandra glanced over, tucking the camera back against her chest. “Yeah?”

Sera nodded. “It’s not just the pictures. It’s how you see things. Like you’re always trying to find the story in the stillness.”

Sandra stepped closer and rested her chin lightly on Sera’s shoulder from behind. “Maybe because I’m in love with someone who gave me my favorite one.”

Sera’s breath caught, just for a moment, before she turned her head slightly and pressed a kiss to Sandra’s temple. “Okay… you’re not allowed to say things like that when we’re surrounded by camera-worthy lighting. I might combust.”

Sandra laughed and pulled back, snapping a candid of her anyway grinning, blushing, impossibly soft in the sharp morning light.

They walked further down the shore until they came across a long outcropping of blackened rock jutting into the tide. Ocean-glass had pooled between its crevices like tiny shards of forgotten color.

Sera crouched down and gently plucked a small green piece from the sand. “This one's lucky,” she said, handing it to Sandra.

Sandra took it and held it up to the sun. “Why this one?”

Sera shrugged, then smirked. “Because you looked at it like it was.”

Sandra tucked it into the camera bag with the stone from earlier, eyes soft. “This trip’s gonna ruin me. I’m already thinking of a photo book title.”

Sera nudged her playfully. “We haven’t even gotten to the cabin hot tub yet.”

Sandra mock-gasped. “I forgot about the hot tub!”

Sera winked. “Well, it’s more like a soak pod. But it’s round, it bubbles, and it overlooks the ocean, so I’m calling it a win.”

Sandra leaned her head back and laughed as the sun climbed higher over the ocean. “Okay. Officially the best honeymoon ever.”

They wandered a little longer collecting textures, light, moments that didn’t need to be spoken. Just steps in the sand. Camera clicks. Fingers laced.

The sun was nearing its midday peak by the time they looped back toward the cabin, the path now familiar under their feet. Their footprints from earlier had been mostly claimed by the tide, leaving only soft traces behind.

Sandra’s hand was in Sera’s as they stepped onto the porch, wind tousling their hair and drying the salt that still clung to their skin.

“I smell something,” Sera said, sniffing the air playfully as she unlocked the door. “And it’s definitely us.”

Sandra snorted, brushing sand from her thigh. “Beach sweat and sunscreen vintage honeymoon scent.”

Inside, the cabin welcomed them with its gentle quiet, cooler than outside but still kissed by sunlight filtering through the skylight above the bed. Sandra dropped the camera bag on the chair near the window and headed toward the small kitchenette.

“Fruit platter and grilled cheese?” she called, opening the mini-fridge.

Sera collapsed onto the couch, arms spread wide. “You’re a genius.”

Within minutes, the cabin was filled with the warm hiss of a buttered skillet and the snap of a cider bottle cracking open. Sera joined Sandra at the counter, popping a slice of strawberry into her mouth and kissing Sandra’s cheek while she flipped the bread.

“You’ve got skills,” Sera murmured.

“I’m honeymoon-catering,” Sandra said, mock seriously. “It’s a limited-time offer.”

“Guess I better savor every bite.”

They sat cross-legged on the floor with their plates, a soft blanket pulled around their shoulders as the breeze rolled through the cracked balcony door. Outside, the ocean glittered. Inside, they ate in no rush, chewing slowly, toes brushing, laughter rising gently between bites.

At one point, Sandra leaned over and fed Sera a piece of peach. Sera bit it gently, eyes never leaving hers. “Still better than room service,” she said around the fruit.

Sandra grinned. “Not charging you extra for the view, either.”

“Best part of the meal,” Sera whispered, and kissed her again.

Plates cleared and crumbs brushed aside, they stayed nestled on the floor, the soft hum of ocean breeze blending with the distant cries of gulls. A slant of sunlight spilled across the floorboards, golden and warm, catching in Sandra’s lashes as she leaned her head on Sera’s shoulder.

For a few minutes, they just sat there with no rush, no plans. The kind of quiet that didn’t demand to be filled.

Sera traced her thumb over Sandra’s knuckles, idly. “You okay? You’ve been quiet since the beach.”

Sandra gave a small nod, then looked up. “I’m fine. Just… thinking.”

Sera turned her head slightly to meet her eyes. “About?”

Sandra hesitated, then exhaled through her nose. “That moment earlier. With those assholes.”

Sera’s jaw tightened, just a little. “Yeah. I know.”

“You didn’t freak out,” Sandra said softly. “Didn’t make a scene. Just… handled it.”

“Didn’t feel like they were worth the storm,” Sera murmured. “But you are. Always.”

Sandra’s fingers curled around hers. “I guess I never really thought about what being married would feel like in moments like that. Like there’s a shield now. Not just me anymore.”

Sera looked down at their hands. “That’s what Mom always said about Mama. That loving her didn’t just mean flowers and mornings in bed, it meant being the wall when shit came flying.”

Sandra leaned in, resting her forehead to Sera’s temple. “Guess I just didn’t realize how strong that would feel. Until now.”

The silence between them shifted closer, deeper.

Sera kissed the side of her head gently. “You’re not alone, Sandra. Not on the beach, not in crowds, not even when it’s just the sky and the ocean. I’m always here.”

Sandra smiled faintly. “I know.”

They stayed like that for a while heads touching, hearts steady watching the shadows stretch across the cabin as the day drifted on around them.

The afternoon stretched wide and lazy as the sun dipped lower, softening the light into honeyed gold. Just beyond the dome cabin, the grass thinned out into sandy soil that rolled gently toward the cliffs. It wasn’t a beach in the classic sense of waves lapping close but it offered the perfect spot to lay still and feel the world breathe.

Two thick towels were spread across the gentle slope, one barely overlapping the other. Sandra lay stretched on her side, her head resting on Sera’s stomach, curls tousled by the wind. Sera had her arm draped over Sandra’s back, her fingers slowly tracing idle shapes against her spine.

The ocean air was cooler now, breeze slipping over them in soft, irregular passes. It tugged at the edges of their towels and flitted through strands of hair like a secret passed between the wind and ocean.

Sera’s gaze drifted across the open horizon, the way the light scattered over the water in shimmering fractures. “Could stay like this forever,” she murmured.

Sandra smiled, cheek pressed to her. “We kind of are.”

Sera glanced down, brow raised slightly.

“I mean,” Sandra continued, eyes still closed, “in this moment. Locked in like a snapshot. It's what forever feels like, I think.”

Sera chuckled under her breath. “That was way too poetic for how sleepy I’m feeling right now.”

“I’m rubbing off on you.”

Sera leaned down to press a kiss into her hair. “You’ve always had a way of making stillness feel like motion.”

They fell quiet again. Just the wind, the ocean, and just them.

Sandra’s fingers laced through Sera’s free hand, anchoring her without words. Their breaths synced slowly, carried by the same breeze that rustled the wild grass at their feet.

Time didn’t feel real here not in that rush-and-grind city way. Just the hush of the horizon, the warmth between them, and the certainty of being exactly where they were meant to be.

By the time the last of the sunlight had melted into twilight, the dome cabin’s soft lights cast a gentle amber glow. The outdoor hot tub, set into a stone-lined deck behind the cabin, steamed quietly in the evening chill. It was nestled into a curve of the cliffside, shielded by thick brush and a curved half-roof of treated wood that opened just enough to give them an unspoiled view of the stars above.

Sera was already sunk halfway in, arms resting along the edge, shoulders slack with contentment. She let out a slow breath as the heat worked through her, steam curling in the air around her dampened curls. “Okay,” she said, eyes closing, “you were right. This was the perfect way to end the day.”

Sandra stepped down the last wooden step with a towel wrapped low around her, her silhouette outlined by the soft lights from inside. She grinned as she unwrapped the towel and slipped in beside Sera, letting out a breathy laugh as the warmth hit her. “Told you,” she murmured. “Water therapy. Always works.”

They eased into silence, the kind that only comes when everything is exactly right. Sandra shifted to sit between Sera’s legs, leaning her back into her wife’s chest, the steam rising around them like a veil. Sera wrapped her arms gently around her, resting her chin on Sandra’s shoulder.

“This view,” Sandra whispered, tilting her head back just enough to glance up. “It’s like the stars are closer out here.”

Sera followed her gaze. “Everything’s closer out here.”

The music from the cabin drifted faintly in the background soft, acoustic notes, something vintage and slow. Sera’s fingers traced lightly along Sandra’s arm underwater, not rushed, not searching. Just feeling.

“Are you warm enough?” she asked softly.

“Mmhmm,” Sandra murmured. “You always make me feel safe.”

Sera kissed the curve of her shoulder, lingering. “You make me feel like I’ve already lived the best parts of my life and somehow, they’re all still ahead of me.”

Sandra turned, just enough to meet her halfway, and they kissed slowly, soaked in warmth and moonlight, their bodies brushing under the surface, water lapping gently at their skin.

They stayed like that for a while, hearts pressed close, steam curling around them, stars slowly wheeling above in their silent arc. No rush, or demands.

Just love.

The cabin had quieted to a gentle hush, the sounds of waves crashing far below like the ocean breathing in its sleep. Pale starlight slanted through the skylight above their bed, brushing across Sandra’s bare shoulders where she lay curled into Sera’s side, her cheek resting just above her heartbeat.

Sera’s fingers moved slowly across Sandra’s back not out of habit, but reverence. Like she was still memorizing the shape of the woman she loved, even after all this time. She pressed a kiss to her temple and felt Sandra sigh against her collarbone.

“You okay?” Sera murmured, voice low and soft.

Sandra nodded, smiling into her skin. “I’ve never been better.”

Sera swallowed. Her hand lifted to cradle Sandra’s face, guiding her to look up. Their eyes locked.

“I’ve been thinking about this night for years,” Sera whispered. “Not just the honeymoon. This. Being here, with you. Where everything’s quiet and real and...mine.”

Sandra leaned up, brushing her nose against Sera’s. “You’re mine too, Firebird.”

Sera kissed her slowly, unhurried, deeply present. There was no rush. Just the rhythm of breath and trust. Her hands slid across Sandra’s ribs, thumbs pausing at the places she knew would make her shiver. When Sandra reached up, tugging her closer, Sera followed with everything she had.

They moved together like the tide steady, ebbing into one another. Sera trailed kisses down Sandra’s neck, across her chest, taking her time as if each kiss was a vow.

There was nothing showy in it. Just soft gasps, as Sandra’s fingertips tangled in red curls, and a kind of intimacy that didn’t need to be loud to be profound.

Sera held her, arms wrapped around her waist as Sandra trembled and laughed breathlessly into her shoulder.

“I love you,” Sandra said, voice thick with feeling.

Sera kissed her again. “Forever.”

They stayed like that, tangled beneath the soft cotton sheets, letting the stars above and the hush of the coast below bear witness to their quiet forever.

Sandra curled up beside Sera, cheek nestled against her shoulder, their bare legs softly tangled beneath the sheets. The last traces of the ocean breeze slipped through the slightly cracked window, carrying the scent of salt and pine, mingling with the warmth of shared skin and whispered breath.

She looked up, her voice barely more than a murmur.

“The only thing more beautiful than these stars… is you.”

Sera blinked slowly, her lips tugging into a smile, heart thudding a little louder in the quiet. “You’re just saying that because I finally learned how to use the fancy wine opener.”

Sandra snorted, then kissed her shoulder. “Nope. That was sexy too, but this” She reached up and lightly touched Sera’s cheek. “this is the kind of beautiful that makes the rest of the world feel quiet.”

They didn’t say anything after that.

They didn’t need to.

Wrapped in each other, they simply laid there in the glow of starlight pooling through the skylight above their bed, the ocean’s hush a lullaby at their backs. No noise, just the soft, steady rhythm of two hearts in sync.

When Sandra tucked her face against Sera’s neck, sighing contentedly, Sera held her a little tighter, kissing her brown hair as they both drifted off peacefully, together, home.

The next morning dawned soft and golden, light spilling gently across the curve of the coast and stretching long shadows behind the dome cabin. The ocean shimmered in the near distance, the mist just beginning to lift. Sera and Sandra stood on the weather-worn porch, arms wrapped around each other, hair tousled from sleep and wind, faces glowing with the kind of quiet happiness that didn’t need words.

Sandra held out her holo phone at arm’s length. “One last photo?”

Sera leaned in, resting her head against hers. “Only if we get a good angle.”

The shutter blinked, capturing them with the lake just behind, the curve of their cabin roof in the frame, and the rising sun glinting off the water. Their expressions weren’t posed, weren’t polished. Just full of laughter, of love, of the weightless kind of joy that lingered after a perfect escape.

They each tapped the send icon.

Sera’s message read:
“Headed home. Best honeymoon ever. Love you, Mama.”
Sandra’s message simply said:
“Wish you could see this view. See you soon.”

The breeze picked up again, tugging at the hem of Sera’s tank top. Sandra bumped her with her hip. “Race you to the station?”

Sera laughed. “Loser buys slushies.”

They grabbed their bags light from use, worn with memories now and headed down the winding trail, hand in hand, the cabin fading behind them into the morning light. The train would be waiting. Home wasn’t far.

They carried something more now.

A perfect beginning to forever.

Chapter Text

It was a bright, peaceful morning.

Soft light filtered through the gauzy curtains, casting sunlit patterns across the wooden floor. From the windows, the lake rustled gently small waves lapping the shore, stirred by a breeze that carried the scent of pine and earth. The house was still and warm, steeped in the kind of quiet that only came from years of earned peace.

Valerie lay on the left side of the bed, her red hair tousled, emerald eyes focused on the ceiling. Beside her, on the nightstand, the Engram Stability Unit hummed in a low, rhythmic pulse. The device Judy had designed equal parts love and genius made to quietly monitor the Relic chip embedded at the base of Valerie’s skull. The chip that held not just her consciousness, but her soul.

Judy stood at the bedside, gaze steady, voice soft. “You sure about this?”

Valerie nodded, lifting her left arm with quiet resolve. “If anything’s off, I’d rather know now. Before something breaks down without warning.”

Judy leaned forward and wrapped the monitoring cuff gently around her wrist. She pressed a kiss to Valerie’s knuckles, her lips lingering there for a breath longer than needed. “I’ll check the shard, too. Make sure it’s still holding.”

Valerie met her eyes, a faint smile blooming as she caught the sparkle in Judy’s deep brown gaze just before it dimmed. Judy’s fingers moved with reverence, unslotting the Relic chip from Valerie’s neural port. The brief shimmer of connection flickered out, and Valerie’s body went still.

Judy held the chip in her hands like something sacred. This was Valerie, everything that made her who she was, held within a delicate piece of tech. A soul suspended in circuits and memory, and only Judy and Sera had ever truly seen her like this.

She carefully slotted the chip into the medical computer’s primary cradle. The screen flickered to life, a cascade of scan lines and diagnostics running in slow pulses.

Judy brushed her fingers across Valerie’s cheek warm, still, but empty. Then reached behind her neck and removed the protection shard from Valerie’s secondary slot. It had been installed a decade ago, before the war, when Valerie’s Engram had been attacked so brutally she spent two weeks lost inside an echo loop. That shard had kept her safe ever since no quickhack, no breach, no outside signal could touch her again.

She inserted it into the secondary port of the console. A soft crackle of static filled the room.

Then Valerie’s voice came through the machine, bright and calm.
“How we looking, beautiful?”

Judy exhaled. That voice hers and yet not, digital but alive always pulled at something in her chest.
“External readings look stable,” she said, tapping through the diagnostics. “Let’s see what the deeper scans show.”

“Thanks, babe,” Valerie replied. “Helps, y’know? Just… knowing.”

Judy smiled softly. “Anything for you, mi amor.”

Her holo buzzed. She glanced at the alert a photo from Sera, standing in front of the Crescent Bay cabin, arm-in-arm with Sandra, smiling against the ocean backdrop. A simple caption: Heading home.

Judy showed it to the screen. “Newlyweds are on their way back.”

Valerie’s voice chimed through a second later, gentler now. “Hey, Jude?”

Judy didn’t look up from the monitor. “What’s on your mind, Guapa?”

Even digitized, Valerie’s tone held its usual warmth. “Even through this screen… you’re still the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. Because of what I see inside you.”

Judy’s breath caught in her chest. “Our love’s always been more than skin deep. Always.”

There was a pause. Then:
“I’m glad Jackie introduced us.”

Judy nodded faintly, fingers still dancing across the interface. “Me too. The shard’s holding solid as ever. And the Engram scan’s just about…”

Ping.

The machine beeped. A soft confirmation tone rolled out across the room.

“No structural damage. No signs of degradation,” Judy reported, glancing back toward the body on the bed. “Whatever material they built your chip with, it’s not breaking down any time soon.”

Valerie’s laugh came through, bright and clear. “Good news. See you in a sec, babe.”

Judy slid the chip out of the console and slotted it carefully back into Valerie’s neural port.

Her body shivered slightly. Then her eyes fluttered open, emerald and alive again.

She smiled as Judy uncuffed her arm. “Guess our dream of making it to a hundred lives on.”

Judy chuckled, shaking her head. “The wind won’t be ready for you shouting at it.”

She shut down the unit, saving the scan results, every movement precise and practiced.

Valerie pushed herself up to sit at the edge of the bed, the light brushing across her bare shoulder. Judy sat beside her, and Valerie leaned in, placing a soft kiss on her cheek.

“So,” she whispered, her voice a little sleepy, a little amused. “What do you want to do today?”

Judy reached for her hand, threading their fingers together.
“Whatever we want.”

Valerie smiled at that, leaning into her side for just a moment longer. Morning light filtered through the window, casting long golden slants across the floor, catching in the edges of the furniture and the dust motes floating in the still air. The lake beyond the glass shimmered in its usual rhythm. Gentle, breathing, patient.

Valerie’s gaze lingered out there. “It’s been a minute since we swam the lake.”

Judy hummed, glancing sideways. “What’s the mood? Wet suits… or skinny dipping?”

Valerie gave her a mock-scandalized look, nudging her. “Tempting, but wetsuits. At least for now. Let’s not traumatize anyone from The Clan.”

Judy chuckled. “Fine, responsible it is.”

Valerie was already peeling off her shirt, her smile quietly wicked. “I wanna head back to that ruin. The pre-Collapse structure near the dock? Something about that place keeps pulling me.”

Judy watched her, openly admiring. “Some of the best things left behind came from that era. Music, stories… maybe even us, in some roundabout way.”

Valerie paused, her eyes sparkling as she stepped out of her shorts. “Classics don’t fade. They evolve.”

Judy’s breath caught for just a beat. She clicked the BD relay on for only a second just long enough to let Valerie feel it: the exact heat of her gaze, the silent reverence, the way her body responded like muscle memory.

Valerie turned, smirking, and traced a finger slowly across her lips. “Are you sure you're thinking about the lake, not about diving into me?”

Judy grinned and flung her own shorts at her. “Guilty on both counts.”

Valerie stepped toward her as if to pull her in, but her bare foot slipped on the smooth wood. With a surprised laugh, she tumbled backwards, pulling Judy down with her into the bed.

They landed in a tangle of limbs and laughter, Judy braced above her with a sparkle in her eyes. “Wobbles,” she teased. “Where’d we leave the wetsuits?”

“Closet,” Valerie breathed out, eyes gleaming.

Judy kissed her once, soft and quick, then stood. Her hand slid deliberately down Valerie’s stomach before she stepped away with a cheeky sway. “Don’t go anywhere.”

Valerie stretched out across the bed, smiling. “As if I could move after that.”

From the closet, Judy’s voice floated back. “Try not to miss me too much.”

Valerie flicked the relay again, showing her what missing her looked like.

A pause, then Judy laughed. “That much huh?”

When she returned, Judy was mostly suited up. She leaned into Valerie, wrapping her arms loosely around her legs. “Help me zip?”

Valerie stood, steadying herself. Judy turned, fingers trailing gently along her hip. Valerie slid the zipper up, and whispered into her ear. “Still the best view.”

Judy turned with a gleam in her dark brown eyes. “Feels like being back at Laguna Bend.”

Valerie smiled, and grabbed her wetsuit next and slipped into it, zipping halfway before turning her back. “Your turn.”

Judy moved in behind her, zipping her slowly fingers brushing warm skin along the way. “You always look good in black.”

Valerie’s eyes sparked. “You say that about everything I wear.”

Judy smirked. “That’s because you look good in everything.”

Hand in hand, they stepped out into the hallway, moved past the sun-warmed wood floors of the living room, the scent of coffee still faint in the kitchen as they passed the back door. Beyond it, the deck waited bathed in light, opening toward the descending slope that led to the dock.

The morning air greeted them, crisp and full of pine and sun. The lake stretched wide and calm, a mirror to the sky.

Judy leaned into her as they walked down the slope, and reached the dock.

Down by the dock, Judy opened the gear shed. Inside, everything was just where they’d left it. She pulled out the masks, the tanks checking pressure, connections, syncing the relays. Valerie did the same, fingers nimble from years of habit.

Once prepped, they shared a quiet nod.

Judy reached for her hand again. Valerie laced their fingers, holding tight.

They jumped in.

The water parted clean around them cool and clear, drawing them into the deep where time slowed and the past waited beneath the surface.

Beneath the surface, the lake embraced them cool and weightless, pulling them deeper into its silent world. Their fingers never broke apart. Judy swam just ahead, turning back every so often to make sure Valerie was with her. Valerie would respond with a flick of her wrist, a little nod, or the soft pulse of a smile through her regulator.

The sun filtered through the water in golden shafts, illuminating swaying reeds and old stone markers barely visible beneath a veil of time. The further they went, the quieter everything became. No sounds of the world above. Just their breath. Just each other.

Their destination loomed ahead like a forgotten temple with half-buried concrete walls, collapsed stairwells, rusted signage, and sunken foundations overrun with aquatic moss. It had been some kind of rec center once, maybe a lodge or museum in its prime. Now it slept beneath the lake, swallowed decades ago in one of the post-Collapse floods.

They hovered over a submerged walkway, Valerie reaching out to touch a rusted railing covered in silt and green film. Judy watched her fingers trace the edge, then turned her headlight toward a fallen plaque nearby. “Open Hearts, Open Doors,” the etched slogan read in faded lettering.

Judy tapped lightly on Valerie’s arm and gestured toward an old lobby area ahead. Valerie nodded. They swam forward, navigating through broken doors and collapsed beams. School banners still clung to the ceiling, half-dissolved but somehow resisting the pull of time. A half-crushed vending machine leaned against a wall, its colorful snack labels long gone, but a few packets still floated loose inside like ghosts of tastebuds past.

Judy laughed into her regulator, sending a small trail of bubbles up toward the surface. Valerie looked at her, brow arched in amusement, and shrugged. Snack run later?

They moved deeper still, reaching a wide open space that must’ve once been a community hall. Trophies floated in a shattered display case gold peeling from plastic. A mural stretched across the back wall, faded but still visible: children holding hands under a banner that said Be the Future You Dream. Valerie stared at it for a long beat, hand brushing gently over the painted surface.

We were always meant to dream, she thought, and through the BD relay, Judy felt that too.

They swam toward the far end, where a small door had been broken open by pressure or time. Inside, they discovered what had once been a classroom or community space rows of overturned desks, chalkboards now scribbled with strange algae patterns. One corner, however, was different.

Valerie spotted it first. A sealed metal box tucked into a gap behind old gym mats and water-logged storage bins. It was bolted shut and weathered with age, but not broken. Not rusted through. Judy swam over beside her and hovered as Valerie reached for it. They exchanged a look.

This was different.

Valerie brushed her fingers across the surface of the box, silt lifting in a slow swirl around her hands. It was heavy, dense, and sealed tight yet intact. Whatever it was, it had survived.

She turned to Judy with wide eyes, her brows raised behind the curve of her mask. Judy nodded, already reaching for the mesh pouch on her gear belt. Together, they eased it loose, careful not to disturb the structural integrity. Valerie slid the timeworn box under her arm, securing it against her side with practiced ease.

The lake pressed close around them, silent and reverent, as they moved on.

They continued exploring the buried skeleton of the ruin drifting through rooms half-swallowed by sand and moss. A sunken gym, with rusted basketball hoops like forgotten halos. A library with floating books, their pages clinging together in clumps of pulp and memory. A staircase collapsed halfway, revealing the twisted rebar bones beneath the concrete.

There were no answers here. Just echoes. History hushed by water, but still waiting to be held.

Valerie held the box tighter as they moved through the next corridor. Judy swept her light across old posters clinging to tile one of a battle of the bands, dated 2024. Another showing a smiling girl in a cap and gown.

Valerie lingered on that one.

Then they moved again.

Through every door, every corner, they carried that feeling, the shared understanding that this place wasn’t just a ruin. It was a memory preserved by time and accident. A moment of the old world, never meant to be found, now discovered by two women who knew the weight of lost time.

They reached a narrow corridor that sloped downward, half-choked with silt and collapsed debris. Valerie angled her head toward it. Judy responded with a nod, flicking her headlamp brighter as they descended side by side, weightless in the water’s hush.

The walls narrowed, tightening around them as the structure curved. A sign hung askew overhead, its letters barely legible through algae: “Media Lab – Studio C.”

Judy’s heart gave a tiny flick in her chest.

Valerie felt it through the relay and turned to glance at her. She gave Judy’s hand a squeeze, then pushed gently on the door.

It gave way with a creak muffled by water.

Inside, they floated into what must’ve once been a creative space now haunting in its quiet stillness. Rows of ancient equipment lined the far wall: rusted audio decks, old-world computers with cracked glass, speakers like fossilized bones. A mixing console sat at the center beneath a shattered skylight, long ago darkened by lake silt and shadow.

A forgotten music room.

Judy swam slowly forward, trailing her fingers across the board. The sliders still moved under her touch, delicate and precise despite the years. She could almost hear what once played here kids recording songs, laughter between takes, the tap of boots on concrete as someone called out lyrics from memory.

Valerie hovered near an overturned chair, the metal box still cradled in her arm. She watched Judy with soft eyes, feeling the ache of it all through the sync. The music room. The murals. The storm-preserved box against her side. This ruin had been more than a shelter.

It had been someone’s dream.

Judy turned back toward her, brushing a slow hand through the water toward Valerie’s cheek. It didn’t land but it didn’t need to. The gesture spoke clearly as breath.

Thank you for finding this with me.

Valerie leaned her forehead against Judy’s regulator for just a moment, eyes closed. Then she tapped gently toward the door with her free hand.

Time to go.

The lake broke open around them in a shimmering spray as their heads emerged. Valerie surfacing first, the metal box still cradled under one arm. Judy came up beside her, flipping back her regulator with a gasp and a grin.

“Still got it,” she panted, brushing water from her eyes.

Valerie turned her head, pushing soaked hair from her face. “Think it’s the coolest damn thing we’ve ever found.”

They swam to the dock together, fingers still laced until the last moment. Judy climbed out first and reached down to help Valerie up. The capsule landed with a soft clunk on the sun-warmed wood beside them.

Steam curled off their wetsuits as the sun kissed their skin again. Judy rolled her shoulders and began unstrapping the oxygen tanks, stacking them neatly by the dock’s edge. Valerie moved with her, still breathless, still holding the weight of what they’d found.

After a few moments, Judy stood and wiped her palms against her thighs. “Let’s see what you’ve got for us, time traveler,” she said, nudging the sealed latch on the capsule with the toe of her foot.

Valerie grinned and jogged over to the small dock shed, returning with a couple of old pry tools. They crouched side by side, knees touching, hearts thrumming like kids unwrapping a memory that wasn’t theirs, but still felt like it belonged.

With one good lever, the seal cracked open, releasing a slow hiss of trapped air. Valerie opened the lid gently… and froze.

Right on top, pristine despite time, was a vinyl record.

Red Hot Chili Peppers - Californication.

Judy gasped. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Her hands reached before her thoughts did, lifting the album like it was glass. Her thumb brushed across the cover, reverent, gentle. “I listened to this so many times growing up... ‘Parallel Universe’ used to be on loop when I couldn’t sleep.”

Valerie turned toward her slowly. “That’s the one that inspired the tattoo on your arm, isn’t it?”

Judy nodded, voice low, eyes never leaving the sleeve. “Underwater where thoughts can breathe easily.” She turned her arm slightly, letting the line glisten in the sun. “I wasn’t even ten the first time I heard it. Thought they were singing directly to me.”

Valerie placed her hand on Judy’s thigh, grounding her. “They were.”

Underneath Californication was another album. Valerie reached for it carefully and slid it free.

Secrets – Written by Wolves.

Judy’s breath hitched. Valerie held it between them, lips parted, eyes soft. “This one…”

“‘Forever and Always,’” Judy whispered. Her throat tightened. “Our wedding song.”

Neither of them spoke for a long moment. The lake wind stirred the surface behind them like a soft exhale.

“I used to scream that chorus into my pillow before I even knew what love was,” Valerie said quietly. “And then... I lived it. With you.”

Judy leaned into her shoulder. “Guess that track really was forever.”

They reached for the next layer. Beneath the records tucked neatly in a sealed slip was another relic.

Thriving Ivory.

Valerie froze.

Her fingers trembled slightly as she lifted it up, staring down at the familiar cover. Judy saw the shift in her body, the way her breathing changed.

“‘Angels on the Moon,’” Judy said, voice quiet.

Valerie didn’t reply at first. Her thumb hovered over the band name like it might disappear. Then she nodded.

“That song…” She exhaled, raw and full of memory. “Got me through life. Got me through Dex. Got me through losing Jackie. When Johnny started teaching me music I was still scared of becoming him. That song made me want to keep going.”

She turned her body slightly, lifting the side of her wetsuit. Just under her left breast, the script tattoo caught the sun:

Don’t tell me I’m dying.

Judy placed her hand gently over it.

They looked back down into the capsule. Pins, and faded magnets glinted beneath the albums tiny logos from Samurai, Radiohead, Falling in Reverse. Judy smiled at a patch that said #1 Crush a nod to the song by Garbage. Bits of musical history sealed in silence for decades until now. Until they found it.

Valerie leaned forward and let her head rest against Judy’s shoulder.

Judy kissed the side of her temple. “Feels like this was waiting for us.”

Valerie nodded. “Like the music never stopped. It just waited to be heard again.”

The lake shimmered behind them. The sun hung low in the sky now, casting everything in warm, honey-gold.

Between them decades of melody, memory, and meaning. Songs they’d lived. Songs they’d made their own.

Valerie tilted the time capsule in her arms as they stepped away from the dock, the weight of history nestled carefully against her chest. The sun cast a soft gleam over the lake behind them, still reflecting like glass, as birds called faintly from the tree line.

“You think we should try playing them?” she asked, glancing sidelong at Judy. “Or find somewhere to display the whole capsule? Kinda feels like a museum piece.”

Judy smiled, brushing damp hair out of her face. “Well, it’s our museum now. Honestly? I say we do both. Let the music breathe again before we put it behind glass.”

Valerie’s eyes lit with quiet approval. “Then let’s start with Secrets.”

The two of them made their way back toward the house, barefoot on the warm deck steps. The cabin stood calm and familiar ahead, windows glinting with summer light, the breeze fluttering gently at the fabric of the deck chairs.

They stopped at the back door, wet suits clinging heavy and loose against their bodies. Judy reached for her zipper first, unsealing the suit down to her hips before peeling it off with a soft grunt. She hung it on the nearest rail. Valerie followed with a flick of her wrist, sliding the zipper down and tugging hers free with practiced ease.

Their bodies glistened in the golden light, entirely comfortable in the skin they’d shared a thousand times over. Being naked wasn’t even a thought it was just them, home, no need for pretense.

Valerie carried the record carefully as they stepped back inside. The house welcomed them with warm air and faint echoes of earlier laughter. She passed the kitchen and paused by the right hallway, where their vinyl collection sat lovingly arranged beside an old-world record player. Some of the jackets were cracked from years of use, others still sharp as the day they’d been printed.

She took a breath, fingers reverent as she slid the Secrets album from its sleeve. The vinyl was flawless. No warps, or rot. Like it had waited for them.

Judy stood behind her, watching.

Valerie gently set it on the turntable, adjusting the needle until it hovered over the track they both knew by heart. As the stylus touched down, a soft crackle filled the room.

Then the first chords of Forever, and Always began to play.

Judy stepped forward slowly, hand outstretched. “Dance with me?”

Valerie turned, eyes already gleaming as she took her hand. “Always.”

They moved in slow rhythm across the wooden floor, bare skin to bare skin, heart to heart. The BD relays activated between them without a word, syncing like a second pulse gentle, warm, and true. And then, Laguna Bend came flooding back.

They were there again.

Their wedding dresses shimmered gold and white in the projection of memory. The ruined cottage glowed under starlight, strung lights fluttering above the lake breeze. Judy’s hands at Valerie’s waist. Valerie’s head tucked under Judy’s jaw.

They danced like they had that night, slow, unhurried, swaying as if the world had disappeared. Through the relays, they felt everything. The joy. The nerves. The way their hearts had beat in sync for the first time in forever.

Judy whispered softly into Valerie’s ear, just like she had back then. “You made me believe in forever.”

Valerie’s reply came just as quietly, her lips brushing Judy’s shoulder. “You made me believe I was worth it.”

The music wrapped around them like a promise, like a thread stitched across time, pulling the past into the present and weaving it into something unbreakable.

They didn’t rush the moment. They didn’t speak again for a while.

Just two wives, slow dancing naked in their home, wrapped in love, memory, and melody.

When the song faded, they held the silence for as long as it would stay. Neither moved, and neither let go.

The world outside rustled softly in the summer wind.

Judy’s fingers lingered on the edge of the spinning vinyl as Secrets came to its quiet close. The soft whirr of the player stilled, replaced only by the hush of their home and the fading echo of emotion still clinging to their skin.

With a gentle breath, she slid the record off the turntable and tucked it reverently back into its sleeve. Her fingers then reached for the next relic Californication. The jacket was worn, edges soft with age, but the disc itself shone like it had been waiting for this moment.

She placed it on the turntable with care, her thumb brushing a speck of dust from its surface before setting the needle.

The opening riff of Parallel Universe rose up, warping time around them again. Gritty, poetic, and raw a different kind of intimacy. One that knew them both just as deeply.

Judy stayed where she was, staring down at the record player as the beat pulsed through the floorboards. Her voice came soft, a little playful, but with that quiet comfort that only came after years of knowing and loving someone completely.

“What should we make for dinner?” she asked, still facing the record, the corners of her mouth barely curled into a smile.

Valerie came up behind her slowly, barefoot steps silent on the hardwood. She slipped her arms around Judy’s waist, chin gently resting on her shoulder.

“Depends,” she murmured, voice low against her ear. “Are you on the menu? ’Cause I haven’t forgotten that look you gave me… about diving into me.”

Judy let out a soft laugh, leaning back into her. “I thought we agreed that it was for the lake.”

Valerie's hands slid just a little lower, teasing across Judy’s stomach. “Didn’t say where the dive would happen. Only that you were thinking about it.”

Judy turned in her arms, meeting her eyes, dark brown to emerald. The music played behind them, Flea’s bassline humming like a second heartbeat.

“You know what I was really thinking?” she asked, voice barely above the rhythm.

Valerie arched a brow. “Tell me.”

Judy’s hands found her waist, holding her gently. “That somehow, every version of the future I imagined… led back to you. Always.”

Valerie softened instantly, eyes misting at the edges before she leaned in and kissed her. Not urgent, or teasing. Just there, solid and sacred.

They stayed like that for a beat. The sun dipped lower outside the windows, shadows stretching across the floor. The scent of lake water still clung to their skin, mixed with the faint musk of vinyl sleeves and cedar walls.

Finally, Valerie broke the kiss with a grin. “Alright, Chef Alvarez. Let’s make something. But I’m picking dessert.”

“Oh?” Judy asked, already pulling open the fridge. “And what’s that?”

Valerie leaned in, voice sultry. “You. After dinner. With whipped cream.”

Judy just laughed, head tilted, eyes glinting. “Then we better eat light.”

They didn’t make anything fancy. They didn’t need to. Judy scrambled up some creamy eggs with herbs from the planter box near the kitchen window. Valerie toasted thick slices of bread, slathered them with soft butter and a touch of honey. They shared a bowl of fresh berries hand-picked the week before and still sweet in the chill of the fridge.

They sat barefoot at the island counter, shoulders brushing, music still drifting from the living room speaker as Scar Tissue played next. There was laughter between bites, small stories from the day, long looks and stolen touches, nothing urgent. Just two women in love, soaking in the quiet rhythm of a life built together.

Judy popped a blueberry into Valerie’s mouth. “Don’t say I never spoil you.”

Valerie grinned as she chewed. “Noted. You’re officially forgiven for beating me in that noodle war last week.”

Judy raised a brow, licking honey from her thumb. “You attacked first, babe.”

“That was preemptive justice,” Valerie said, standing to put her dish in the sink. “You were looking shifty.”

“Oh, I always look shifty.”

“Exactly.”

Judy shook her head fondly, turning back to finish the last of her drink. Behind her, she didn’t see Valerie open the fridge, casually shifting jars and containers until she found what she was looking for: a half-full can of whipped cream tucked behind a jar of pickled peppers.

Her grin widened.

She crept back over, holding it low by her side like contraband. “Hey, babe…”

Judy glanced back, curious. “Yeah?”

“Oops,” Valerie said, innocent as can be before pfffst! A swirl of cold whip cream landed right on Judy’s bare shoulder.

Judy gasped, spinning with wide eyes. “Val!”

Valerie didn’t say a word. She just leaned in and slowly licked the whip cream off Judy’s skin, eyes flicking up once as she pulled away with a playful smirk. “Waste not, want not.”

Judy stared at her, half in disbelief, half melting. “You’re impossible.”

Valerie stepped in close, her breath warm at Judy’s neck. “You love it.”

“I really do,” Judy whispered, letting her hands slide around Valerie’s waist. “But you better be ready for payback.”

“Oh, I’m counting on it.”

Judy’s hands stayed at Valerie’s waist, thumbs drawing slow circles along the fabric of the towel still wrapped around her. Her skin still held the faint chill of the lake, and so did Valerie’s, but the warmth between them had started to build in its own quiet way like kindling not yet touched by flame, but close.

“You’re trouble,” Judy murmured.

Valerie tilted her head, her lips ghosting the edge of Judy’s jaw. “That’s what you whispered on our wedding night.”

“Mm-hmm,” Judy nodded, leaning in until their foreheads brushed. “Right before I couldn’t stop saying your name.”

Valerie smiled, soft and slow. “You always say my name like it means something.”

“It does.” Judy’s voice dipped, rich with all the emotion she never needed to explain. “Every time.”

A beat passed, and neither of them moved.

The music in the living room shifted again to soft static giving way to the mellow start of Otherside, distant but clear. The scent of lake water and honey still lingered faintly in the air. Valerie’s fingers grazed the base of Judy’s spine. Judy’s breath caught for half a second. Then she pressed her lips to Valerie’s shoulder, not with hunger, but with reverence, slow, grounding, present.

“I missed this,” Judy said softly.

Valerie’s face flushed. “Me too.”

Valerie’s arms wrapped around her wife fully now, and they stood together in the kitchen, silent but held foreheads touching, hearts steady. For a long moment, there was no rush, or, no storm on the horizon.

Just the tension of love waiting to unfold.

Judy’s fingers drifted slowly up Valerie’s back, brushing over the place where skin met spine. She kissed her there again just below the curve of her neck then pulled back, letting her lips linger a heartbeat longer than before.

Valerie’s eyes followed her, glinting with something between tenderness and mischief. “Come on,” she murmured. “Before I find something else to lick whip cream off of.”

Judy arched her brow. “Is that a promise or a threat?”

“Both,” Valerie replied with a grin, threading her fingers through Judy’s and gently tugging her backward through the house.

The hallway glowed with the warm amber hue of sunset filtering through the windows, catching soft glints in the wood floors and casting long, lazy shadows along the walls. Their bare feet padded quietly across it, the house feeling alive in that golden silence as if it, too, knew this moment mattered.

They passed the record shelf, Californication still drifting through the air like smoke from a shared memory. Valerie glanced toward it and whispered, “Perfect soundtrack for our own private cosmos.”

Judy chuckled softly. “Our gravity’s better.”

Their bedroom waited at the end of the hallway, the door still half-open from earlier. Valerie led them in, releasing Judy’s hand only to pull the sheets down, smooth and inviting. She sat on the edge of the bed, watching Judy cross the threshold.

The way the light hit her stray strands of pink and red hair catching fire in the glow, dark brown eyes focused only on her. It made Valerie feel like they were always meant to meet at this exact intersection of time and fate.

Judy stepped in close. “I still haven’t forgotten that.” Valerie tilted her head, playful but sincere. “You wanna see what it means on land?”

Judy’s smile was quiet, wanting. “Show me.”

Just like that, the weight of the world slipped away. Skin and starlight, and a slow burn ready to catch flame.

The bedsheets shifted softly as Valerie leaned back, her red hair spilling across the pillows like flame. Her breath hitched as Judy followed, crawling slowly over her with the kind of patience that said she wasn’t in any rush to be anywhere but here.

“Still the best view,” Judy murmured, brushing a hand along Valerie’s hip, her thumb tracing the line of ink that curled up the side of her ribs.

Valerie’s eyes fluttered half shut. “Then take your time with it.”

Judy did. Her hands were warm and steady, moving slowly along the soft terrain of Valerie’s stomach, her thighs, her chest. She kissed every freckle like it was a secret worth keeping. When she reached the lotus blossom curled over Valerie’s shoulder, she paused, pressing her lips gently there.

“I love this tattoo,” she whispered quietly against it. “But I love the skin underneath more.”

Valerie reached up, threading fingers through Judy’s soft two-toned hair, letting her breath catch as Judy’s tongue traced the ink before descending with purposeful care.

The BD relay warmed. Just a subtle hum in the base of Valerie’s skull then deeper, spreading like a rising tide.

She could feel Judy’s mind as she moved: tender, focused, in awe. Not just desire, but devotion. With every touch, Judy wasn’t thinking I want you, she was thinking I’m with you. Valerie felt that echo in her chest, a kind of love that didn’t need words, only presence.

Kisses turned to licks, licks into slow trails of heat winding down between Valerie’s legs. Judy moved with intent, parting her thighs, hooking them gently over her shoulders. One hand gripped Valerie’s, fingers tangled tight; the other pressed firm against her stomach, grounding her in the moment.

But more than that through the relay, Valerie felt the reverence Judy carried. Each kiss was laced with memory: flashes of laughter on rooftop mornings, the weight of Judy’s hand on her back after nightmares, the quiet way she said “I’ve got you” during broken days. Every flick of her tongue held meaning. Every pause wasn’t hesitation, it was worship.

The first brush of Judy’s tongue made Valerie arch slightly, the kind of movement that begged without a single word. But inside her mind, she was already unraveling. Because she could feel how much Judy wanted her to feel safe, wanted, whole.

Valerie moaned, soft and melodic, her body singing, but her mind aching from the beauty of it. Judy’s arousal mirrored her own heartbeat syncing, a pulse-for-pulse dance. But it was the emotion that lit her up.

Judy’s mind whispered through the relay, “you’re mine, you’re loved, you’re safe,” again and again each phrase blooming through Valerie’s ribs like a mantra made flesh.

Valerie moaned, soft and melodic, eyes closed as the BD relay flickered on. She could feel Judy’s arousal mirroring her own heartbeat quickening, nerves lighting up in tandem. But it wasn’t just physical. Judy’s mind was saturated in warmth, in focused devotion. Each flick of her tongue wasn’t just action, it was love made with innocence. Valerie felt the rhythm of it not just on her skin, but in her soul. Their breaths wove together like overlapping threads, stitched by the relay.

Judy hummed against her, then slowed again, pressing kisses along her inner thigh as her dark brown eyes lifted. “Your turn, Guapa.”

Valerie, flushed and glowing, pulled Judy up with a gentle tug. “You’re gonna say that and expect me to hold back?”

“I hope not,” Judy breathed, kissing her with tongues still tasting of fire.

Valerie flipped them over with ease, her body sliding over Judy’s. She took her time now, dragging her hair across Judy’s stomach, her lips ghosting down her sides. She kissed the “13” tattoo on Judy’s arm. Kissed the edge of the BD port. Then moved lower still.

When Valerie settled between her legs, she didn’t rush. Her hands pinned Judy gently at the hips as her mouth worked in slow, rhythmic circles. The relay deepened, syncing their pulses as one. Judy’s arousal bloomed through Valerie’s mind like heat across the chest. She felt the way Judy’s thoughts shattered and scattered sharp spikes of pleasure tangled in threads of emotion. Love, unguarded. Need, raw and reverent.

Judy gasped, her legs tightening, then loosening in sync with every pulse of pleasure. Valerie could feel how close she was not just through breath or touch, but the flutter of Judy’s thoughts stammering into light. A storm building inside her. Waves climbing to the edge of something sacred.

Then Judy broke.

She arched, trembling violently, not just in body but in soul. The relay surged and Valerie felt it. Her own breath caught as a secondhand climax rippled through her chest like gravity had shifted. Judy’s pleasure wasn’t just visible, it echoed. Valerie saw flashes in her mind: the first night they kissed, Judy’s laughter by the lake, the quiet way she whispered “forever” in their vows. All of it as Judy’s emotions bled through the circuit and crashed over her.

Judy whispered her name like it was sacred, voice cracked and reverent, and Valerie felt the meaning of it. Not just “Valerie,” but mine, safe, home.

Afterward, they met in the middle. Tangled limbs. Sticky skin. No need to speak, just soft laughter and gentle touches as they curled into each other.

But even as their bodies calmed, the BD relay lingered not buzzing, not bright, but warm and low, like the hum of a lullaby remembered. Valerie felt Judy’s emotions bleed through the shared current love, exhaustion, reverence all folding into her like heat after a storm.

Valerie brushed her lips against Judy’s temple. “You good, babe?”

Judy smiled against her chest, her breath still catching. “I’m better than good.”

Their pulses were no longer racing, but still synced, one heartbeat leaning into the other. In the stillness, Valerie could feel the trace of Judy’s climax rippling gently in the background, like the ocean’s pull far below the tide. She felt a soft wave of adoration curl through her ribs, not her own, but Judy’s. An echo of the way she was seen. Cherished, and held.

She returned it pressing her thoughts gently into the relay like the softest kiss: You’re mine too. You’ve always been mine.

The sheets shifted as Judy nestled closer, her cheek pressed to Valerie’s shoulder. Her fingers never stopped tracing slow circles on Valerie’s stomach, but now they moved with more intention drawing not patterns, but presence. Touching not just skin, but the memory of connection still dancing in the space between their nerves.

Valerie exhaled softly, running her hand up and down Judy’s spine, feeling the dampness of her skin, the faint rise and fall of her breathing. Every movement whispered I’m still here.
Every silence hummed didn't let go.

Judy was beaming now, eyes bright, cheeks flushed, a glow that came not just from what they’d done, but from what they shared. She looked like a woman who had touched something holy and been touched back.

“This is the first time we’ve used the relay like that,” she murmured, voice low and full of wonder.

Valerie turned to her with a lazy smile, tucking a lock of Judy’s damp pink and green hair behind her ear. Her hand rose to gently caress her cheek, thumb brushing just under her eye.

“Yeah,” Valerie whispered, voice thick with quiet awe. “It felt like… you weren’t just under my skin. You were inside everything.”

Judy didn’t answer right away. She just kissed Valerie’s collarbone, slow and deliberate, and the relay sparked again one last echo, like the ghost of a breath in winter.

In that silence, Valerie felt it: the unspoken truth neither of them needed to say.

Even if the world vanished tomorrow… this moment would echo forever.

Chapter Text

The morning light slipped through the curtains in soft golden ribbons, casting lazy patterns across the tangled sheets. The scent of summer drifted in through the open window pine, warm earth, and distant lake air. Somewhere out on the water, a bird called once, then again. Then silence.

Valerie stirred first, her breathing deep and even as her eyes fluttered open. She blinked against the light, then turned her head. Judy was there, curled toward her with an arm still draped over her waist, her short pink and green hair tousled and falling against her cheek. Her dark lashes fluttered slightly, not quite awake, but close.

Valerie smiled, letting the moment linger.

She raised her hand, brushing a knuckle lightly along Judy’s cheek. “Morning, beautiful.”

Judy made a quiet sound, a half-groan, half-hum, and opened one eye. “Mmm. You sure it’s morning? Could swear we just fell asleep.” Her voice was scratchy, low, warm in a way that made Valerie want to stay in this bed forever.

Valerie leaned in, kissed her forehead. “That’s what happens when you wear me out.”

Judy smirked, finally opening both eyes. “You were the one who started with the whipped cream, rockstar.”

Valerie laughed under her breath, low and lazy. “And you didn’t stop me.”

Judy finally cracked one eye open, a slow grin curling at her lips as she shifted closer, sliding her leg between Valerie’s. “Didn’t want to,” she whispered, her fingers drifting along Valerie’s waist like a lingering echo of the night before.

Valerie’s breath hitched just slightly, more from the look in Judy’s eyes than her touch. They weren’t full of fire now, no mischief, no teasing. Just warmth. The kind of warmth that said home.

Judy let her head fall against Valerie’s shoulder again, burying her face in the curve of her neck. “We really should move before I get ideas.”

Valerie ran a hand up her back, fingers threading through the pink and green strands. “Too late.”

They both laughed, soft and unhurried, tangled in each other like the world outside didn’t matter, because for now, it didn’t.

Valerie slid out of bed with a playful wink heading towards the bathroom. She stepped into the shower, and turned on the water.

Steam drifted soft and slow through the bathroom, curling like mist around the mirror edges and drifting toward the skylight above. Valerie stepped under the warm spray first, tilting her head back and letting it wash over her face, hair plastering against her back like silk threads.

Judy joined her a moment later, her fingertips brushing over Valerie’s shoulder before slipping around her waist. She pressed in gently from behind, resting her cheek between Valerie’s shoulder blades.

“Morning showers might be my new religion,” she murmured, voice low and husky from sleep.

Valerie let out a soft hum, reaching behind to cradle the back of Judy’s thigh. “You always say that… right after we sin.”

Judy chuckled, trailing kisses along Valerie’s shoulder. “Guess I’m a devoted convert.”

They stood like that for a while, quietly, swaying slightly under the heat. Valerie turned slowly, water streaming down her red hair, lashes clinging together. She lifted Judy’s chin with one finger, studying her like the most sacred thing she’d ever seen.

“You know,” she whispered, “I think I dreamt about you again.”

Judy smirked. “Was I wearing anything?”

Valerie kissed her, deep and slow, then pulled back just enough to breathe. “No. But you were still the softest thing in it.”

Judy's smile faltered slightly, not in loss but in awe like someone realizing a moment they never want to forget is already happening. Her hand rose to cup Valerie’s face, thumb brushing along her freckled cheek.

“I love you,” she said, almost like she didn’t mean to say it out loud. Like it simply slipped free from her heart.

Valerie leaned into her hand. “I know.”

Steam whispered between them as they kissed again longer this time, slower. A different kind of intimacy. One without urgency. Just the reassurance of shared space, shared love, and the quiet promise of the day ahead.

The sun had crept higher by the time they stepped out, skin flushed and clean, towels slung low around their hips. Judy dried her hair with lazy swipes, pink and green strands falling across her eyes. Valerie stood by the fogged mirror, wiping it clear just enough to glimpse the glow lingering on her cheeks.

Back in the bedroom, the windows were cracked just enough to let in the morning breeze. It carried the scent of pine and lakewater, mixing with the quiet of their retreat. Valerie pulled on a pair of dark denim shorts, her lotus tattoo catching the light. A soft tank followed loose, worn, one of Judy’s old ones that still smelled faintly like vanilla perfume and solder. Finally her denim Clan Alvarez vest as she stepped into her silver rocker boots.

Judy was halfway into her own faded shorts, tugging a black crop top down over her stomach. She slid on her Clan Alvarez vest, and sat down to tie her boots when Valerie’s holo buzzed from the nightstand.

She reached for it, thumb hovering before she tapped the message open.

Group Chat:
Ethan: "Footage is cooked, tuned, and baked. Get your ass to the diner. I want your reaction on camera."
Paz: "She’s gonna cry. I’m calling it now. Full-on misty-eyed, clutching a menu."
Alba: "Ignore them, Valerie. It really is something special."
Aniko: "We saved you a booth and an extra syrup bottle. Don’t make us use it."

Valerie smiled an easy, affectionate curve of her lips as she tucked the holo under her arm.

“Band?” Judy asked from across the room, finishing the laces on her boots.

“Yeah,” Valerie said, tossing a braid over her shoulder. “They finished the concert footage. Want me to meet them at the diner.”

Judy cocked a brow. “You think Paz is gonna cry?”

Valerie grinned. “If he doesn’t pour hot sauce in my coffee first.”

They stepped into the garage a few minutes later, the Racer humming low and ready beneath its matte purple frame. Valerie straddled the seat, boots planting firm on either side as she synced her interface HUD flickering to life in her optics, bringing the bike’s systems online.

Judy slipped on behind her, arms sliding naturally around Valerie’s waist as the bag over her shoulder shifted slightly. “Try not to break the sound barrier, mi amor.”

Valerie smirked over her shoulder. “No promises.”

The engine growled to life beneath them, deep and smooth electric with a tuned edge. Valerie eased the throttle, and the bike rolled out of the garage into the golden morning. The penisula road stretched ahead through the evergreens, curves sweeping like a river through the hills.

They followed the winding backroads, the Racer carving through morning light that spilled across the forest canopy. Pine shadows slipped past like old memories. Judy rested her cheek briefly against Valerie’s back, arms snug around her waist. Neither said a word just let the hum of the engine and the breeze do the talking.

Farther down, the road began to open. Fences gave way to weathered rooftops, distant storefronts, the sleepy charm of a town still stretching into the day.

Up ahead, the diner sign blinked with its usual stubborn flicker half-lit neon barely holding its own against the sun. A rusted Dust & Vinyl bumper sticker clung to the corner of the glass door like it had survived a hundred storms and still wasn’t going anywhere.

Valerie eased the bike into a slow roll, parking just beneath the crooked awning.

Inside, the band waited.

Ethan lounged in the booth, jet-black braids already swaying to whatever track only he could hear. Paz, as expected, was drumming a fork against a napkin holder, probably trying to invent a beat with the salt shaker. Alba had that usual quiet watchfulness in her eyes half-listening, half-orbiting something deeper. And Aniko? Already sipping black coffee, one hand curled around the mug, her pink eyes unreadable but sharp as ever.

Valerie cracked her knuckles. “Ready to see what the chaos brigade cooked up?”

Judy smiled beside her. “Only if I get a sip of your milkshake.”

Valerie grinned and pulled into the lot. “We’ll see if you behave.”

Valerie popped the kickstand and swung her leg off the Racer in one smooth motion. Judy followed with a stretch, tugging her vest straight, and adjusting her bag before slipping her hand into Valerie’s. A silent exchange passed between them comfort, rhythm, shared breath.

They stepped through the diner doors and were met with the scent of fresh toast, brewed coffee, and the faintest trace of grease that had probably soaked into the walls sometime around 2040. The bell overhead gave a lazy jingle.

Ethan was the first to spot them. He grinned wide, stood, and spread his arms like Valerie had just walked into a standing ovation. “Valerie-fucking-Alvarez! Our guiding flame!”

Valerie laughed, shaking her head. “You’re gonna make people think I’m important.”

“You are important,” Paz chimed in from across the booth, his blonde hair tied back loosely as he twirled a fork between his fingers. “You’re the reason I haven’t been arrested for drum solos in public.”

“Yet,” Aniko muttered, not even looking up as she took another sip of coffee.

Alba slid over on the booth’s leather bench to make room, her hazel eyes warm. “Welcome back, you two.”

Judy gave her a soft smile. “Good to see everyone.”

Valerie slid in next to Ethan, her arm brushing his as she settled. Judy sat beside her, close enough their thighs touched under the table.

A waitress appeared just long enough to top off mugs and take a quick order Judy got black coffee, Valerie added pancakes and fruit, and the others mostly just waved her off, already halfway through their plates.

“So,” Ethan said, fingers drumming lightly on the table now. “You ready for this, Val?”

Valerie leaned back, arms crossed. “Depends. Did you go with the cuts that didn’t make me look like I was about to pass out?”

Paz barked a laugh. “Then we’d have no concert footage.”

Aniko handed over a small shard drive, sliding it across the table with two fingers. “Footage is clean. Audio’s mixed. You killed it.”

Valerie raised a brow as she picked it up. “All of us did. It’s our music.”

“Yeah, well, you shredded the last track like it owed you money,” Alba said with a low smile.

Judy reached over to take the shard, pulling her portable holo-projector from her bag. She set it on the table, flicked the switch, and the tiny screen came to life casting grainy light upward in swirling blue as the footage began to roll.

They watched in silence as Valerie’s image came into focus on stage eyes closed, hair lit like fire under the spotlights. Her voice spilled from the speakers with full force, wrapped in the layered precision of Ethan’s bass, Paz’s thunder, Alba’s tone, and Aniko’s perfect punctuation.

Then Judy leaned closer.

“Wait,” she said softly, freezing the footage mid-frame.

Everyone turned. Valerie leaned in. “What?”

Judy pointed toward the lower edge of the projection. “There. Left side of the crowd. That guy.”

Zooming took a second, but as the holo-image cleared, a figure came into focus hooded, face partially obscured, but not just filming with a standard cam. His hand hovered near a discreet scanner, glimmering faint blue under a sleeve display.

Judy narrowed her eyes. “That’s not a fan. He’s scanning. Mapping the BD relay signature.”

Aniko leaned forward slightly. “Why would someone be doing that at your show?”

Valerie’s jaw flexed. “Because they want what we built.”

Paz glanced between them all. “So this just got less fun.”

Ethan looked to Valerie. “We handling this like a band… or like a crew?”

Valerie didn’t answer right away. Her hand slid over Judy’s, fingers tightening.

“We’re handling it like family,” she said. “But we might need help.”

Judy nodded, already pulling out her Holo. “Let’s talk to Sera and Sandra.”

Judy gently tapped Valerie’s hand before slipping out of the booth. “Gonna give Sera a heads-up. Back in a minute.”

Valerie gave her a quick nod, eyes still fixed on the frozen holo-image. As Judy made her way toward the diner's front windows, she pulled her Holo and dialed. Meanwhile, Valerie sat back, dragging a breath through her teeth.

“Fucking hell,” she muttered.

“Yeah,” Ethan said, drumming a slow, thoughtful rhythm on the table with his knuckles. “You really pissed somebody off with that set.”

Aniko shifted her coffee cup aside, leaning in just enough for the screen’s pale glow to reflect in her pink eyes. “You think this is Arasaka? Militech?”

Valerie shook her head. “If it was corp, they wouldn’t be that sloppy. They’d already have hacked us. This… feels like someone freelance. Someone watching for innovation.”

Paz exhaled loudly and flopped back in the booth, arms out. “Well, congratulations, we’re finally cool enough to get spied on. Do we get a badge for that?”

Alba’s voice was softer, thoughtful. “Or someone connected to the BD market. You’ve made waves, Val. That relay of Judy’s is... revolutionary. If people knew what it really was?”

“They’d come running,” Valerie finished, her tone low.

There was a moment of silence. Even Paz stopped moving.

Ethan finally broke it. “So what’s next?”

Valerie’s emerald eyes lifted to him, steady and serious.

“We trace it back. We don’t let this scare us off stage. We just play smarter. Watch who’s watching.”

Aniko sipped the last of her coffee. “And if they try to get closer?”

Valerie smirked. “Then we show them what happens when they cross the wrong band.”

Laughter cut the tension slightly. Alba smiled, then reached over and gently squeezed Valerie’s wrist. “Whatever you need, we’ve got your back.”

Just then, Judy returned, sliding back into the booth beside her. She leaned in close enough to speak without raising her voice.

“Sera’s up. Sandra too. They’re both home. I let them know we’re coming over.”

Valerie’s shoulders relaxed just slightly. She nodded.

“Alright,” she said, glancing once more at her band. “Let’s finish breakfast, then go pay the newlyweds a visit.”

Ethan grinned. “Now that’s a sentence I didn’t think I’d hear today.”

Alba looks at Valerie. “Don’t forget we’re family now too.”

Ethan leaned forward, resting his arms on the table. “Yeah, we’re musicians now, but we all have a past, you know. We can help.”

Paz gave a more serious look, eyes narrowing as his usual smirk faded. “I hate to ask you to put your daughter in harm’s way, Val… but I got an idea.”

Aniko’s voice cut in like a scalpel, already tracking the rhythm of his thought. “We lure them in. Set up a small performance. Tease an unreleased track something we didn’t put on the album. Make it look valuable enough to bite.”

Judy stiffened a little beside Valerie, brow furrowed. “You want us to hire Sera and Sandra for protection?”

Paz held her gaze. “Not as backup. As baited security. They’d look like regulars in the crowd. Unarmed, casual. But when shit goes down…”

“They’re ghosts with pistols,” Aniko finished, her pink eyes glinting.

Valerie’s eyes dropped to her coffee, swirling it slowly before taking a measured sip. The quiet that followed was heavy, but not hollow.

“They just got back from their honeymoon,” Judy said softly.

Valerie nodded. “I know.”

Alba reached across the table, brushing her fingers lightly over Valerie’s hand. “That’s why we ask. Not demand.”

“They’d do it,” Ethan added. “Especially Sera. But it’s your call.”

Judy turned to Valerie, her expression unreadable. “This only works if it’s on your terms, not theirs.”

Valerie looked between them, her band, her friends, her soul tethered to this strange makeshift family. The kind you bleed for.

She finally exhaled. “We bring it to them gently. No pressure. If they say no, we figure out another way.”

“And if they say yes?” Paz asked.

Valerie smirked faintly. “Then let’s make a show they’ll never forget.”

They rolled away from the diner with purpose, engine humming beneath them as the town faded behind. No music this time just the steady thrum of the road and the thoughts running quiet between them.

Fifteen minutes later, the familiar turnoff came into view. Dust rose in soft curls behind the Racer as they veered onto the dirt road that led to Sera and Sandra’s place.

Valerie’s grip eased slightly as the house came into view. Not because of the structure itself, but because of what it represented. The life those two had made together. The warmth that always met them at the door. She could almost hear Sera’s laugh before they even parked.

Judy leaned in slightly behind her, voice soft in her ear. “It still feels weird coming here as a client.”

Valerie didn’t answer at first. She just smiled faintly, letting the quiet moment settle before easing the bike to a stop in the packed dirt driveway.

“They’re still our girls,” she said finally, voice low. “No matter what we’re walking into.”

The Racer rolled to a smooth stop on the dirt drive, tires crunching softly over gravel. Morning sun filtered through the pines, casting warm dappled light across the path. Somewhere off near the tree line, wind brushed through leaves, carrying the scent of lakewater and cedar.

Valerie cut the engine.

The quiet that followed wasn’t awkward. Just expectant.

The front door opened before either of them had a chance to move.

Sera stepped out onto the porch, one hand resting on the railing. Her Alvarez vest hung open over a fitted crimson tank. Combat pants sat snug at her hips, boots loosely laced like she’d pulled them on without a second thought. Her red hair was tied back in a quick loop, bangs curled slightly across her brow. She looked sharp. Awake, and ready.

“You didn’t ride all the way here just to say hi,” she said, tone soft but direct. “Come on in.”

Behind her, Sandra pulled the door wider. She wore a sleeveless charcoal top and dark jeans, her phoenix tattoo catching a glint of light. One hand held a mug of coffee; the other was already resting lightly on the edge of the doorframe steady, welcoming, sure.

Judy swung her leg off the Racer, boots crunching into the dirt. Her black crop top clung light to her skin under the denim vest, green and pink strands falling into her eyes. “Told you she’d already know.”

Valerie followed, adjusting the hem of the dark tank she wore, one of Judy’s, still holding a faint trace of solder and vanilla beneath the sun. Her own Alvarez vest was worn open, silver rocker boots catching light as she moved. “Hard to sneak up on family.”

They climbed the steps together.

“You made rolls?” Valerie asked as they crossed the porch.

Sera smirked. “Sandra did. I just stood there and acted supportive.”

Sandra’s voice carried from inside. “She did eat three of them. That counts as support.”

Valerie laughed under her breath and stepped through the open door.

The inside was cool, lived-in, and warm all at once. Coffee hung in the air with a trace of cinnamon. A record played low in the background instrumental, soft enough not to distract, just enough to keep time. The fan turned slowly overhead, its rhythm a steady hush.

Sera motioned to the table. “Sit. Coffee’s fresh.”

Valerie settled in without a word. Judy followed, sliding into the chair beside her, their thighs brushing briefly under the table.

Sandra leaned against the kitchen counter, mug in hand. “Alright,” she said gently, brown eyes scanning between them. “Talk to us.”

Valerie glanced down once, then back up eyes steady, voice low. “We found someone in the crowd. Not a fan. Not corp. But not innocent.”

Judy nodded. “He was scanning the BD relay. Tracing the signature. Subtle. Targeted.”

Sera’s smile faded. She pulled out the chair opposite and sank into it, fingers threading together on the tabletop. “How sure are you?”

“Sure enough,” Valerie said. “We caught it on holo. Could’ve been freelance. Could’ve been testing the water.”

Sandra spoke next. “And you want to bait them?”

Valerie nodded. “Small set. Unreleased track. We make it look like a one-time drop. If they come close, we catch them in the open.”

Judy added, “We’re not asking you to fight. Not unless you want to.”

Sera didn’t blink. “You don’t need to ask.”

Sandra set her mug down with a soft clink. “You’re not alone in this. Never were.”

Valerie looked between them. Her voice dropped just above a whisper. “You sure? You just got back. We didn’t want this…”

Sera cut her off with a quiet smile. “You brought it to us. That’s what matters.”

Valerie’s eyes met hers. The words landed deeper than she expected. No resistance, no argument. Only the truth.

Sandra stepped away from the counter, crossed to the table, and set a fresh mug in front of Valerie with quiet precision. “Still hot,” she said simply.

Valerie wrapped her hands around the mug, the warmth blooming into her fingers, anchoring her.

The warmth of the mug lingered between Valerie’s hands, her fingers wrapped loosely around the ceramic as the cinnamon-sweet scent drifted lazily through the kitchen. The low hum of the fan above and the occasional creak of the wood beneath Sandra’s steps were the only sounds that moved.

No one was rushing the next sentence. That was the kind of space this house gave.

Sera sat across from her, arms folded on the table now, gaze sharp but calm. She hadn’t said anything more after that last line. "You brought it to us. That’s what matters.", and she didn’t need to. Valerie could still feel the weight of it hanging in the air between them.

She stared into her coffee for a moment, then looked up. Her voice came out softer than she expected.

“I don’t like putting you in this.”

Sera didn’t flinch. “You’re not. I’m stepping into it. Big difference.”

Valerie’s thumb traced the rim of the mug, quiet for a few seconds. “You just got back. You should be celebrating, getting into lazy mornings and figuring out what the hell to do with your backyard. Not thinking about surveillance gear or perimeter security.”

Sera smiled faintly. “We’re not planning an op. We’re watching your back. Same thing you’d do for me without blinking.”

“I have done it for you,” Valerie said, a little too fast. Then she exhaled, steadying. “And I’d do it again. A thousand times.”

There was a long pause between them not silence, just space. The kind that only existed between people who didn’t need to fill it.

Sandra crossed the room and gently slid another roll onto Valerie’s plate without a word, then leaned against the counter near Judy, her body language relaxed but tuned in. Judy, in turn, hadn’t said anything for a while; she just sat beside Valerie, letting her be held by this room, by this family.

Valerie looked back to Sera. Her expression had shifted less protective now, more open. Still guarded, but not hiding.

“I’ve spent years keeping the people I love out of the line of fire,” she said quietly. “Felt like the only thing I ever did right. But now... I’m asking my daughter to step into it willingly.”

Sera’s brow softened. “You’re not asking. You’re trusting.”

Valerie blinked once, hard.

Sera leaned forward a little, her voice low. “You and Mama raised me to know what matters. To protect what we build. That doesn’t go away just because Sandra and I tied the knot or because things are peaceful right now. It just means we’ve got something even more worth defending.”

Valerie pressed her hand over her heart like she needed to hold it in place. Her voice caught just enough to make the next line sting in the best way.

“You’re not a little girl anymore.”

Sera smiled. “No. But I still like hearing you worry.”

Judy let out a quiet breath beside her almost a laugh, but not quite. It was the sound she made when her heart was full but her throat was tight.

Valerie reached across the table, lacing her fingers through Sera’s. Her hand was smaller, but it didn’t feel that way. Not anymore.

“I’m proud of you,” she whispered. “I don’t say it enough.”

Sera grinned. “You say it every time you look at me like that.”

Valerie squeezed her hand once, then let go slowly, like the moment still needed time to land.

“Alright,” she said, her voice clearing with purpose. “Then let’s figure out how we set the stage.”

Valerie lingered for a moment after letting go of Sera’s hand, the warmth still in her palm. She looked across the table at her daughter and nodded gently.

“I’ll send word to the band. We meet for dinner keep it low-key, talk through the plan when everyone’s had time to breathe.”

Sera gave a quiet nod, her shoulders finally settling into something that wasn’t quite ease, but close.

Valerie pulled her holo from her back pocket and leaned forward slightly, thumbs tapping out a group message across the table’s edge.

Group Chat: Valerie: Meet for dinner tonight. Full crew. We talk then. Location: “Home.” You’ll know where.

Valerie put her holo away after sending the group message, fingers still brushing lightly over the edge of the screen. The air in the kitchen had softened not in tension, but in weight. It was the kind of pause that said: we’re not done, but we’re okay.

Judy leaned forward slightly, eyes settling on Sera with a warmth that came only from years of love stitched through quiet moments like this one.

“So,” she asked, voice gentle and teasing at the edges, “did you end up using the camera I gave you?”

Sera’s eyes lit up instantly.

“Hell yes we did,” she said, practically glowing. “That thing was perfect. Made everything feel like it mattered more, y’know?”

Sandra smirked from the counter. “We took a whole stack of Polaroids. Want to see them?”

Valerie leaned back, one brow arched. “That even a question?”

Sera grinned and stood up. “Be right back.”

Sera returned from the hallway with the camera slung over her shoulder and a small binder of Polaroids in hand. She set the vintage camera gently on the table with a quiet kind of reverence before opening the binder.

Sandra came around the table and sat beside her, already flipping through the prints with ease. “This one’s from our first morning. Crescent Bay trail, about a mile out. We woke up stupid early just to catch the sun break.”

Valerie reached for it. Sera and Sandra stood barefoot in the sand, morning light catching the edge of the water behind them, the world looking like it hadn’t broken yet. Sera’s hand rested on Sandra’s lower back. Sandra’s smile looked effortless.

Valerie let out a soft hum. “You two look like you could’ve stayed there forever.”

Sera grinned. “We tried. Kept walking the same trails over and over just so we didn’t have to leave.”

Judy picked up the next photo taken from inside the domed cabin. A blanket of stars was frozen above the curved glass ceiling. Sera sat on the bed, a candle lit beside her. Sandra was leaning over, mid-laugh.

“That was our second night,” Sandra said. “Felt like we were sleeping inside the sky.”

“Best part of the whole trip,” Sera added. “I don’t think we said more than five words the entire time. Just laid there and watched the stars burn.”

They passed a few more: windswept cliffside shots, low-light film grain from dockside dinners, one frame caught mid-spin where Sandra was pulling Sera into a dance near the ocean.

Then Sandra, almost offhandedly, said, “We had trouble taking photos one day on the ocean trial.”

Valerie looked up, sensing the shift.

“Some punks tried to get loud with me,” Sandra explained, voice casual but tight in the way that meant it hadn’t fully left her. “Started catcalling on our walk.”

Sera’s voice came low but solid. “I stepped in. Didn’t shout, didn’t threaten. Just told them they had three seconds to walk.”

Judy raised an eyebrow. “And?”

“They were smart,” Sera said with a small shrug. “They walked.”

Sandra leaned into her side. “They got the message. Wasn’t about a fight. Just about being seen.”

Valerie nodded once. “You handled it.”

Sera’s jaw twitched slightly not anger, just that unspoken edge she carried when something touched too close to her people. “No one talks to her like that. Not while I’m breathing.”

Judy smiled, quiet and proud. “You handled it exactly right.”

The moment passed like a ripple on still water. They returned to the photos of walks through ocean trails, coastal fog rolling in around sunlit rocks, one candid shot of Sandra writing something in the sand while Sera watched from the edge of the frame.

Eventually, Sera pulled out the last photo one she had tucked away. Just a quiet shot of Sandra asleep beneath the dome, hair spread like ink across the pillow, one hand resting in the space where Sera must’ve been.

“I took this right before dawn,” she said softly. “Didn’t want to forget how it felt to know she was right there.”

Valerie stared at the image for a long beat, then reached across the table and gently squeezed her daughter’s hand.

“You don’t need pictures to remember moments like that,” she said. “But I’m glad you took them anyway.”

Valerie tapped Sera gently on the shoulder as she stood. “Come over in a few hours. Anything in particular you want for dinner?”

Sera leaned back in her chair, a grin tugging at the corner of her mouth. “Well, you’re feeding that chaos of a band too. Cheeseburgers and Spanish rice. Simple family tradition.”

Judy smiled. “Sounds perfect.”

Valerie nodded once. “We’ll have it ready by sundown.”

Judy adjusted the strap of her bag as they moved toward the door. But just as Valerie reached for the handle, Sera called out behind them.

“Hey Moms. Before you go… how about some pictures?”

Valerie turned, smiling softly. “Yeah. I’d like that.”

Sandra was already reaching for the vintage camera. “Porch has the best light right now.”

They stepped outside, the warmth of the late morning sun soaking into the porch wood beneath their boots. A soft breeze moved through the trees, just enough to stir the wind chime into a quiet ring.

They took several photos together, first all four of them, arms looped casually, heads leaned close, laughter caught mid-frame. Then just Valerie and Judy standing hip-to-hip, Judy’s hand on her waist, both of them sharing that look only the two of them understood.

Sandra caught a few more Sera and Sandra cheek to cheek, smirking. Valerie and Sera standing shoulder-to-shoulder. Then Judy and Sera, twin expressions and matching glints in their eyes.

Each click of the camera wasn’t just memory it was affirmation.

Sandra fanned the last photo in the breeze. “Perfect light.”

Sera stepped in to hug Valerie tight. “See you soon.”

“You better,” Valerie murmured, holding her close for a breath before stepping back.

Judy wrapped an arm around both of them briefly, then met Sandra’s gaze with a soft grin. “You two just show up hungry. We’ll take care of the rest.”

Sandra nodded. “Wouldn’t dream of missing it.”

With one final wave, Valerie and Judy stepped down from the porch and moved toward the waiting Racer. Judy climbed on behind her, arms wrapping around Valerie’s waist like second nature.

The engine came to life with a low hum, and together, they pulled away down the gravel road heading home, the wind rising around them, sun warming their backs.

Ahead waited the lake, the kitchen, and a night that would bring their family together.

The Racer pulled into the lakehouse driveway just as the light began to soften across the treetops. Valerie eased the bike to a stop, letting the engine idle for a beat before shutting it down. Gravel crunched under her boots as she climbed off, Judy right behind her.

The house stood quiet and warm in its usual way, wood catching the last gold glints of the afternoon sun.

Judy reached for the door, glancing back over her shoulder. “Alright. You handle the grill?”

Valerie smirked as she pushed the door open. “I’ll handle the grill. You handle the rice. Just don’t burn it this time.”

Judy snorted and dropped her bag inside, already toeing off her boots. “You wound me.”

They stepped into the house, the cool air wrapping around them like a welcome-back exhale. It still smelled faintly of coffee from that morning, the windows cracked just enough to let in the pine-sweet breeze off the lake.

Judy peeled off her vest and slung it over one of the dining chairs, then headed straight for the kitchen. “We have tomatoes?”

Valerie called out from the hallway as she pulled her own vest off and grabbed an apron from the hook near the deck door. “Bottom drawer. On the left. Should be fresh.”

Judy rummaged for the rice first, setting the pot on the stove with practiced ease. She measured the water out by feel, added a dash more than necessary just how Sera liked it, and flicked the burner on with a tap of her knuckle. The flame curled to life beneath the pot with a gentle hum.

Valerie stepped out onto the back deck, flipping the grill lid open and inspecting the grease tray with a tired sigh. “One of these days I’ll remember to clean this before we use it.”

She grabbed a metal bowl and headed for the small outdoor fridge tucked beside the planter. She took out ground beef, onions, garlic, and fresh herbs from the small pot Judy kept alive even when no one remembered to water it.

Inside, Judy was already moving dicing tomatoes, onions, tossing dried chili flakes into a mortar, adding cumin with a small flick of her wrist. The kitchen filled with the first whispers of warmth and spice, the kind that lingered in the air even after everyone left.

Outside, Valerie formed the first patties by hand, pressing them slowly and even, the way her mother taught her back when food still meant survival. She sprinkled coarse salt and cracked pepper over the tops, flipping them onto a tray with clean rhythm.

From the open kitchen window, Judy’s voice drifted out. “You still doing cheese on all of them?”

Valerie glanced toward the lake, the water catching sunset fire, and nodded. “Yeah. Full spread. This is a comfort food kind of night.”

“Good,” Judy called back. “We could all use that.”

The smell of toasted spice and searing meat curled together in the air, drifting between the open kitchen window and the back deck like a thread pulling two halves of one home into alignment.

Valerie adjusted the flame on the grill, watching as the first row of patties began to sizzle and darken at the edges. Her eyes tracked the horizon not for danger, not yet, but out of habit. Out of instinct.

Inside, Judy rinsed her hands and let them rest on the edge of the counter. The rice was on low, almost ready. The house was quiet but not still filled with the soft, purposeful movements of two people bracing for what came next.

Judy dried her hands and moved toward the open door that looked out onto the deck. She didn’t step out. Just leaned there, one shoulder against the frame, watching Valerie work.

“You’ve been quiet,” Valerie said without turning.

Judy shrugged, but didn’t hide. “Just thinking.”

“About?”

Judy was quiet for a second. Then: “The relay. What it means. What someone was doing scanning it in a crowd.”

Valerie flipped a patty, her movements controlled. “You think they knew what they were looking at?”

“I think they knew it wasn’t normal.” Judy’s voice was soft, not shaken. Just focused. “The relay reads emotion, memory, sync. No corp tech does that, not the way mine does.”

Valerie finally looked up. “So if they get their hands on it…”

“They won’t,” Judy said, firm. “But if they did, they’d twist it. Use it to sell lives that don’t belong to them.”

Valerie watched her for a moment. Then turned back to the grill. “Then we don’t let them.”

Judy stepped onto the deck now, barefoot, her presence grounding the air more than the wood beneath her. “I keep thinking about how you looked in that holo clip. When I froze the frame.”

Valerie’s brow arched slightly, half-teasing. “Hot?”

Judy smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “Marked. Like someone was tagging you for something.”

Valerie’s jaw flexed. “They tried.”

Judy stepped closer, until her hand brushed Valerie’s back. “You’ve been tagged before. By the corps. By worse.”

Valerie nodded, voice low. “I survived every time.”

“That’s not what I’m worried about,” Judy said. “I’m worried this time… they’re not after just you. They’re after what we made. What’s ours.”

Valerie turned toward her now, grill forgotten for the moment. Her hand found Judy’s waist, steady and sure.

“Then we protect it. The relay. The people tied to it. You. We do this together.”

Judy looked into her eyes for a long, quiet second.

“Yeah,” she said. “We do.”

The wind shifted, carrying the smell of grilled meat and cumin across the deck, curling into the corners of the house like a signal.

Their peace was measured now not in hours, but in minutes.

The night was coming. So was everyone else.

Judy pressed a kiss to Valerie’s freckled cheek, her lips lingering for just a breath before pulling back. “I’ll get the plates ready,” she said softly, her voice a low murmur wrapped in warmth.

Valerie gave her a small smile, then turned her attention back to the lake. The surface shimmered in the deepening amber light, slow ripples catching the last stretch of sun. The air smelled of charred seasoning, pine, and distant summer dust. Her fingers rested on the grill handle, unmoving, present.

Then she heard two voices, low and familiar, rising from the side path near the porch. One sharp, the other easy and rhythmic. She didn’t have to look to know who it was.

Paz and Aniko rounded the corner of the house, half-laughing, heads tilted toward the soft glow of Paz’s holo.

Valerie raised an eyebrow, smirking. “What’s that? Jig-Jig Street’s finest new compilation?”

Paz looked up mid-laugh. “Not today.” He held the holo toward her like an offering. “There’s this street musician playing out of Heywood. Bare bones setup. But the voice? Unbelievable.”

Aniko nodded, stepping up onto the deck beside them. “Valerie Halloway. I remember her from the war on the Arasaka-Militech front lines. She helped secure part of the Old Quarter during the final siege two years back.”

Valerie smirked faintly. “With a name like Valerie, I already like her.”

Paz adjusted the holo, stabilizing the feed with a flick of his thumb. The glow lit the corner of Valerie’s jaw as she stepped in beside him, Aniko on her other side. The three of them stood shoulder to shoulder on the deck, the world narrowing to the soft image glowing in front of them.

The feed clicked into focus.

Heywood. Late evening. The light was thin and tired, neon signs stuttering against a hazy sky. A street corner slept under the shadow of a broken awning. Beneath it stood a young woman with long red hair, tangled and veiling her face. She didn’t move. Not much. Just shifted her grip on a battered acoustic guitar like she wasn’t sure if she wanted to play it or lean on it to keep from falling.

She strummed once barely audible. Then again. A single chord lingered, hollow and imperfect.

Then came her voice.

"I died in my dreams
Where no one remembers my name..."

It wasn’t polished. It wasn’t clean. But it cut. Each note stretched like it hurt to say.

"Washed away in an endless sea of pain
A soul meant to suffer, lost in the rain..."

She wasn’t looking at the crowd. There was no crowd. Just the sidewalk, the quiet camera, and the tremble in her hand as she held the chord a moment too long.

"My voice echoed
Who’s the one to blame?"

She inhaled.

"Is it me…
Because I’m broken?"

The word hit harder than it should have. Valerie’s shoulders shifted barely. Aniko didn’t blink.

"All these words
Left unspoken
Am I real
Or just a token?"

The wind moved behind her on the holo. A car passed. The city didn’t stop, but her voice made it feel like it should have.

"I try to wake
But the mirror’s cracked
I speak out loud
But nothing comes back..."

Her thumb faltered across the strings but she didn’t stop.

"Pieces of me they rearranged
But I don’t feel the same
Am I real?
Or just the name
You gave the flame?"

She paused no transition. Just the silence.

"When I awoke
Everything changed
My heart in pieces
That won’t be arranged..."

Her voice dropped, quieter.

"The sky felt wrong
The ground misplaced
A stranger breathing
With my face..."

A gust of wind pushed her hair back just long enough to glimpse one eye. Hollow, focused, that said I'm alive, but carrying something that didn’t want to leave.

"Is it me…
That’s still pretending?
All my starts
Have no ending
Was I ever
Worth defending?"

The camera trembled slightly whoever was filming had moved closer, but said nothing.

"I try to wake
But the mirror’s cracked
I speak out loud
But no voice comes back
They call it healing
But I still feel shame
Am I real…
Or just the name
You gave the flame?"

She tightened her grip on the guitar like she was holding herself in.

"If I scream, will it shatter through?
If I bleed, will that prove I’m true?"

Her voice cracked again. Raw, real, and human.

"Or am I just a shadow in your view
Wearing skin that never grew?"

The line rang like it hurt her to say it out loud.

"I try to wake
I try to stay
But everything I was
Slips away..."

Aniko shifted just slightly. Her eyes never left the screen.

"I look at you
You say my name
But I still don’t know
If I’m the same..."

She exhaled, barely audible.

"Am I real?
Or just the frame
That held your flame?"

Her fingers played one last chord.

"Am I real…
Or just what’s left
Of someone
You once kept?"

The performance ended without applause. Just silence, the kind that comes when truth walks through a room and everyone forgets how to move.

Valerie blinked slowly, exhaling like she’d just surfaced from underwater.

“I don’t even know her,” she said quietly, “but I can feel every word in my chest.”

Aniko’s voice stayed hushed. “She was supposed to be dead. I remember hearing stories when I was still embedded with Arasaka about a woman who breached one of the secure towers on foot. They never recovered the full report.”

Paz tucked the holo away, his face more serious now. “Whatever she lived through... it didn’t leave.”

Valerie looked at Aniko, her voice even. “Next time you head into the city, see if you can find her.”

Aniko nodded once. “I will.”

The moment hung in the air, suspended in quiet until the sound of gravel crunching signaled others approaching.

Alba’s soft voice drifted in, joined by the deeper cadence of Ethan as the two rounded the front steps and made their way toward the porch. The group was gathering, drawn not just by the scent of food, but the need for answers.

From inside, Valerie heard the screen door open and Judy’s unmistakable laugh echo faintly through the kitchen.

“You’re right on time, mi cielo.”

Valerie turned back toward the grill, jaw set with quiet focus.

Judy’s voice called from inside, light but clear. “Food’s ready!”

Valerie glanced over her shoulder toward the kitchen, where the screen door now hung wide open. The smells of grilled meat and spiced rice floated out with the breeze.

Laughter stirred inside. Sera teasing someone about plate sizes. Sandra’s soft voice cutting gently through the noise. Alba was already arranging glasses on the table, her usual grace even in the simplest movements.

Aniko gave one last glance toward where the holo had been, then followed Valerie inside.

The shift was subtle.

From reverence to warmth.

From hush to home.

Judy was finishing the rice when Valerie entered, and without a word, they brushed shoulders in the narrow space silent sync in motion. Valerie grabbed the last of the buns and took them to the table where Sandra and Ethan were arranging condiments like battlefield gear.

Sera leaned against the counter with a half-smile, watching the little waves of motion unfold. “Did Paz already try to call dibs on the first burger again?”

“He knows better,” Judy muttered as she sprinkled fresh cilantro across the rice. “I brought two wooden spoons this time.”

“I have a bruise from the last dinner,” Ethan offered dryly, but his smirk undercut the complaint.

Plates passed hand to hand. The sound of chairs being pulled out. A bottle of soda cracked open. Clinks. Muted laughter. Feet tapping against floorboards.

The family was gathering not just as fighters, not just as a clan. But as people who knew how to build something real together, even in the shadow of incoming storms.

Valerie placed the last plate down and took her seat next to Judy, their arms brushing. She gave her wife a look soft, steady and Judy returned it with that small, familiar smile. The one that always meant ready when you are.

She reached for her glass but didn’t drink yet. Just let her fingers rest around it as she let the moment settle.

Sera poked her fork through the rice, chewing with a satisfied hum. “Alright, who finally convinced Mama to add extra garlic this time?”

Judy leaned back with a small smirk. “Didn’t take much. The rice was practically begging for it.”

Sandra arched her brow. “Begging?”

“I was spiritually moved,” Judy deadpanned. “It spoke to me in steam.”

Valerie chuckled, elbow bumping hers. “That before or after you started swearing at the pot?”

“It’s not swearing,” Judy said with mock serenity. “It’s seasoning with intention.”

Alba laughed under her breath. “You’re lucky it turned out this good.”

“Please,” Judy said, gesturing to the table. “When do I ever let it turn out any other way?”

Paz coughed theatrically. “Del Rio.”

“That was your pot,” Ethan reminded him. “You practically gave the stove a meltdown.”

“I was testing flavor boundaries,” Paz replied. “Artistically.”

Aniko raised an eyebrow. “You set off a fire alarm.”

“Dramatically,” Paz said, grinning.

Valerie took a bite of her burger, glanced at him, and said, “That explains your dating history.”

The table burst into laughter.

Paz held up a hand in protest. “Okay, that’s low even for you, Alvarez.”

Valerie shrugged, unapologetic. “Truth has a depth limit.”

Judy leaned slightly toward her wife, shaking her head with quiet amusement. “Remind me to never let you near a wedding toast.”

Most of the food had been picked over. Second drinks were in hand now wine, soda, whatever was closest. The house had settled into that quiet rhythm that came when full bellies met serious minds. The light above the table buzzed faintly, a low amber glow casting soft shadows.

Valerie traced a finger around her glass, not speaking right away. She didn’t need to. Everyone at the table already knew why they were here.

Still, she lifted her head and eased into it.

“So,” she said quietly, “this is what we know.”

Judy shifted beside her, folding her arms over the table, steady and unhurried. “At the last show, someone in the crowd was running a neural signal scanner, high precision, short burst. Tuned directly to Valerie’s relay frequency.”

Aniko blinked. “The projection relay?”

Judy nodded. “Yeah. My design, but Valerie’s the one using it on stage. During sets, her relay activates to sync memory threads with the lyrics' emotional recall linked to the music.”

Valerie tapped just beneath her right ear, her voice steady. “It’s all intentional. When I perform, I choose which memories light up. But even when we limit it, the signal has a signature. It’s traceable if you know what to look for.”

“They weren’t trying to jam it,” Judy added. “No interference. Just quietly mapping the stream. Testing how close they could get.”

Sera leaned in. “So someone’s building a picture of what you’re broadcasting.”

“Exactly,” Valerie said. “Trying to track me through my own memories.”

Alba’s tone was thoughtful. “That’s more than data theft. That’s psychological mapping.”

“Which is why we need to stop it now,” Judy said. “There are only two relays in existence. Valerie’s the one projecting publicly and mine, which is strictly for sync support, and internal grounding. No one else has access. If someone’s trying to reverse-engineer the memory threads from her broadcast…”

“They’re not after just a tech prototype,” Sandra said quietly. “They’re after her.”

The table fell silent for a breath.

Paz broke it. “So we do what we do.”

Valerie nodded. “We run a small venue. Invite-only crowd. I’ll pick a song that hits hard, something real. The relay activates. If they’re watching, they’ll show.”

“And we’ll be watching them,” Sera added.

Judy looked around the table. “But we don’t confront unless we’re sure. This isn’t a takedown. It’s an exposure.”

“And if it turns into something more,” Valerie said, “we handle it. But on our terms.”

Valerie let the last of the silence stretch a moment before she spoke again. “We’ll hold the show in the park center of the Rural Market. Open enough for line of sight, crowded enough to blend. It’s public, but we’ve played there before. No one blinks if we run something experimental.”

Judy gave a small nod, thoughtful. “Acoustics aren’t bad there either. And we can run minimal lighting just enough to keep the projection screen clean.”

“We’ll go light on gear,” Valerie added. “Portable amps, smaller display rig. Keep setup time short.”

Sera leaned forward, her eyes sharp, already in motion. “Sandra and I’ll take the perimeter. Outer loop. I’ll keep my eyes on all approaches.”

Sandra rested her forearms on the table, voice calm. “Should I check with my moms? See if Panam and Vicky want in?”

Valerie considered that, then nodded once. “Quietly. Let them decide if they want to show or shadow.”

“I’ll handle it,” Sandra said.

Alba glanced around the table. “What about the rest of us?”

“I want you close,” Valerie said, her gaze moving from Alba to Aniko to Paz. “Mixed into the crowd, not clumped. Casual. Phones linked, comms tight. Don’t move unless something starts to spiral.”

“Spiral in what way?” Ethan asked.

Judy answered, “If someone tries to extract the feed or trace the implant signal in real time, we cut the projection. We pull out.”

“No dramatic exits,” Valerie said. “No firefights unless someone draws first.”

Paz grinned. “Define dramatic.”

Valerie raised a brow. “If a drone explodes, you’ve gone too far.”

He held up his hands. “Noted.”

Aniko leaned back. “I’ll take the east side. Blend near the art stalls.”

“I’ll take north,” Alba added. “Set up by the fountain. It’ll give me a good line on the screen and the signal equipment.”

Ethan gave a low hum. “I’ll move between spots. Eyes on transitions.”

“Good,” Judy said. “One of us should always be watching the watchers.”

The table fell quiet again, but this time it wasn’t tense. Just clarity. Everyone knew their role.

Valerie glanced down at her glass, then back up again. “We will meet there tomorrow afternoon. One hour before the set starts. Setup’s fast. Everything goes through private comm. We do this clean.”

Sera nodded once, gaze steady. “And when it’s done... we all walk out together.”

Valerie gave her a small smile. “Yeah. We finish this, and then we go home.”

“One by one, the chairs began to shift. Dishes collected. Bottles corked or emptied. The sound of a group easing back into the softness of night. No loud goodbyes just the kind that came when a plan was set, and the people you trusted were in place.

Valerie moved toward the back door with Judy close behind, her hand brushing against Valerie’s as they passed through the hallway, shoulder to shoulder.

They stepped out onto the back deck, the old wood warm beneath their feet, still holding onto the last heat of the day. The lake stretched out in front of them like a sleeping giant, black glass reflecting only hints of moonlight and the shimmer of distant stars. Somewhere across the water, a frog croaked once. Then silence.

Valerie leaned her forearms on the railing, exhaling slowly. “You feel it too, don’t you?”

Judy didn’t answer right away. She moved beside her, their arms brushing, then rested her chin briefly on Valerie’s shoulder. “Yeah,” she murmured. “Like everything’s holding its breath.”

Valerie tilted her head, just enough to feel the soft weight of Judy’s hair against her cheek. “I hate that we had to bring this to them.”

“They wanted it,” Judy said gently. “You didn’t drag anyone. They followed you because they believe in what you built.”

Valerie’s fingers curled around the edge of the railing. “I just wanted the relay to be something beautiful. A way to share the things we survived. To make it mean something.”

“It still is,” Judy said. “But anything worth meaning is gonna draw shadows. Doesn’t make the light less real.”

Valerie turned to look at her, eyes tired but soft. “How do you always know the right thing to say?”

Judy gave a faint smile. “Because I only get to say it to you.”

They stood there like that for a long moment, the hush between them unbroken. Then Judy reached up and touched the side of Valerie’s face, her thumb grazing lightly over a freckle just beneath her eye.

“You should sleep,” she said. “Even if it’s just a little.”

Valerie caught her hand and didn’t let go. “Only if you’re there too.”

Judy’s smile deepened, warmer now, more lived-in. “You think I’d be anywhere else?”

Valerie shook her head with a quiet laugh, then pulled her close. Their kiss wasn’t urgent it was grounding. A tether between the now and whatever came next.

As they turned back toward the door, the wind picked up just slightly. Not enough to chill, just enough to remind them that night was fully here.

They stepped back inside without a word, letting the screen door ease shut behind them. The house had dimmed in their absence, lit only by the soft golden glow of the bedside lamp down the hall. Judy’s hand lingered at the small of Valerie’s back as they passed through the living room, their steps slow, unhurried, like time wasn’t chasing them for once.

Valerie peeled off her boots by the edge of the bed, letting them thud gently to the floor. She undid the buttons of her vest but left it draped across the chair without ceremony. Judy moved behind her, fingers brushing along Valerie’s spine through the fabric of her shirt before disappearing into the bathroom for just a moment, then returning quietly.

They met again at the side of the bed, both wordless now not because there was nothing to say, but because the silence held more comfort than conversation.

Judy slid under the covers first, curling onto her side and lifting the blanket without needing to ask. Valerie followed, tucking herself into the warmth and pressing close, her back to Judy’s chest, the rhythm of their breathing falling into sync like it always did.

Judy’s arm wrapped around her waist, hand settling just below her ribs. “You warm enough?” she asked softly, her lips close to Valerie’s ear.

“Yeah,” Valerie whispered. “Right here’s perfect.”

Judy nuzzled closer, her voice even softer now. “You were brilliant tonight.”

Valerie gave a quiet hum of protest. “All I did was lay out a plan.”

“No,” Judy murmured, “you gave them calm. Direction. That’s not small, mi amor. That’s everything.”

A long pause followed gentle, unpressured.

Then Valerie found Judy’s hand beneath the blanket and laced their fingers together. “Promise me we will come home tomorrow.”

Judy squeezed once. “We always do.”

Valerie nodded faintly, her eyelids heavy now. “Then wake me when the light’s soft. Not too early.”

“You got it,” Judy whispered. “Just you, me... and maybe coffee with too much sugar.”

Valerie smiled against the pillow. “Perfect.”

The lamp dimmed to nothing as Judy reached back and flicked it off.

Outside, the lake lay quiet.

The Racer coasted to a stop near the edge of the Rural Market’s gravel lot, its soft engine hum fading into the late afternoon air. Sunlight spilled across weathered booths and retro-painted storefronts, casting the kind of long shadows that made everything feel just a little more cinematic.

Valerie dismounted first, boots crunching gently over sunbaked gravel. Judy followed close behind, the slim black case of Valerie’s acoustic guitar slung over her shoulder. She adjusted it with a small grunt and shot Valerie a sideways look. “Still think I got the better end of this deal?”

Valerie smirked. “That guitar’s lighter than your camera rig used to be.”

Judy rolled her eyes and bumped shoulders with her as they started walking. “Barely.”

The market wrapped around a central green wide circle of grass and old stone paths where vendor booths gave way to open air. A few kids ran across the lawn, chasing each other between benches. The Retro Slush stand buzzed with soft synthpop, the scent of cherry and mango syrup drifting lazily on the breeze.

It was peaceful. Too peaceful.

“The place still feels like it hasn’t decided what decade it belongs to,” Judy muttered, scanning the space as they walked.

Valerie nodded toward the small stage platform ahead just a few worn planks raised half a foot above the grass. “Perfect spot for something timeless.”

As they reached the edge of the park, Valerie paused to take it in. Shops ringed the circle, some tucked into refurbished steel huts, others blooming beneath hand-painted awnings and makeshift patio covers. Families wandered from booth to booth. It looked like summer and memory had made a deal to keep this place safe.

They stepped up onto the platform, the boards creaking faintly beneath their feet.

Judy eased the guitar off her back and set it down carefully. “The band said they’d bring the mic and the projection rig. Shouldn’t take more than ten to set up.”

Valerie crouched, unzipping the case with care. Her hand brushed along the wood of the acoustic as she pulled it free soft, worn, real. No flash. Just honesty in six strings.

She glanced around the circle again, voice low. “Feels almost too normal.”

Judy stepped up beside her, arms folded loosely across her chest.

Valerie gave a small nod, tuning a string absently, her fingers falling into muscle memory.

Sera’s voice reached them first low, calm, but threaded with the same edge Judy carried when she was locked in. “You picked the right spot.”

Valerie turned as her daughter and Sandra approached from the path near the Retro Slush stand. The two of them blended with the afternoon crowd like they’d been born into it. Alvarez jackets worn open.

“We’ve been here a while,” Sera said as she stepped up to the edge of the platform. “Started the loop as soon as the foot traffic got heavy.”

Sandra offered a quiet nod, her eyes scanning the ring of shops with methodical ease. “North and east sides are good. Vendor booths give us cover without blocking line of sight. West alley by the bookstore’s the only blind corner, but we’ll work around it.”

Valerie nodded. “Keep moving. Subtle rotations. Check the benches and corners. If they’re here, they’ll want time to observe.”

“Already on it,” Sera said.

Judy stepped down beside them, crossing her arms. “You brought your comms?”

Sandra tapped the side of her collar in answer.

“Good,” Judy said. “Only speak if it’s necessary. No chatter.”

Valerie watched the two of them for a moment how naturally they moved together, how quiet strength had replaced the wide-eyed fire that used to define Sera’s stance.

“You sure you’re okay covering this alone?” she asked.

Sera met her eyes. “This is the easy part. You’re the one on stage.”

Sandra added, “We’ve got your back.”

Valerie reached out and gently squeezed Sera’s shoulder. “Thank you.”

Sera smiled. “You raised me for moments like this. Let us do our part.”

With a final nod, the two turned and disappeared into the current of the square, one walking casually, the other scanning like a breeze moving through the crowd.

Valerie let out a slow breath, one hand brushing over the body of her guitar. Judy was already stepping back onto the platform beside her.

“It feels real now,” she said quietly.

Judy glanced toward the horizon. The sun had begun its slow descent, casting warm orange light across the wooden planks beneath their feet. “That’s ‘cause it is.”

Valerie had just finished her final tuning check when she caught movement near the vendor stalls across the square.

Paz was the first to break through the crowd, a mic stand slung over his shoulder like a lance, a canvas bag bouncing against one hip as he walked with his usual swagger. “You two ready to pretend this is just a concert?” he called out, grinning.

Valerie smirked. “You bring the mic or just your mouth?”

“I bring both, baby.”

Alba followed a few steps behind, shoulders relaxed, long brown hair tucked behind one ear. She was balancing a compact signal case in one hand, a folded projection screen under the other. “Easy setup,” she said. “Two lines. No amps. Screen’s pre-coded with your memory track. You want the beach sequence again?”

Valerie gave a single nod. “Yeah. Start it soft. Let the memories climb with the song.”

“Got it.”

Ethan arrived next, practically gliding through the crowd in his usual smooth gait, bass in one hand, a half-drunk slushie in the other. “You know,” he said around a sip, “if this ends in a firefight, at least we’ll die hydrated.”

Judy arched her brow. “Nice to know morale’s intact.”

“I’m a realist,” Ethan said, giving her a wink. “But I brought spare cables. That’s optimism.”

Aniko was last, quiet as always. She approached from the opposite side of the square, a slim black case tucked under one arm and her cobalt blue hair catching the light. She didn’t say anything at first, just stepped up onto the platform and offered Valerie a small nod.

Valerie returned it. That was enough.

The group fell into setup with the ease of muscle memory. Alba and Aniko unfolded the projection screen and secured it against the backdrop rig. Paz started laying out the mic stand while Ethan ran discreet power lines to the edge of the stage where a vendor stall covered the junction box. Judy assisted without being asked, double-checking the receiver chip behind the screen, syncing it to the relay code she and Valerie had verified the night before.

It was fast, and efficient. No wasted motion.

“Feed is synced,” Judy confirmed quietly. “One touch on your relay, and the projection thread starts broadcasting. Audio will stay separate raw through the mic.”

Valerie nodded, eyes scanning the crowd again.

The marketplace had grown thicker, but no one paid the platform much attention. Just another afternoon performance. Just another open-air memory set.

But this one had teeth.

Aniko stepped to Valerie’s side and murmured, “We’ll be ready. If anyone tries to access the signal stream or pin the relay, I’ll catch the spike.”

Valerie glanced at her, then to the others, her band, her friends, her family.

They weren’t soldiers anymore. But they’d never forgotten how to stand for each other.

Judy moved closer, adjusting the strap of the acoustic over Valerie’s shoulder.

“You good?” she asked softly.

Valerie looked down at her hand, flexed her fingers once around the neck of the guitar, then up toward the crowd, where the shadows were just starting to stretch.

“Yeah,” she said. “Let’s give ‘em something worth chasing.”

Judy stood just off to the side of the platform, arms folded, her Alvarez jacket slung over her shoulders like a second skin. To the crowd, she looked composed and watchful. But her eyes never left Valerie. Not for a second.

A quiet touch behind Valerie’s right ear triggered the relay.

The screen shimmered to life behind her, and Judy’s breath caught before a single note played. She hadn’t seen the memory sequence Valerie loaded, at least not fully. That was intentional.

Now she felt it before she saw it.

Valerie strummed the first chord, soft and aching.

“You held my soul in your hands
Didn’t flinch, didn’t break, didn’t ask”

The screen lit with water and weightlessness Laguna Bend. Their hands reaching underwater, neural links aglow. The sync, silence, and their love.

Judy’s fingers curled against her bicep.

“Watched the screen light up my name
Still you saw me just the same”

A hospital bed flickered into view. Valerie pale, unmoving. Judy seated beside her, hollow-eyed but holding on. The monitors blinked. Judy’s hand never left hers.

She swallowed hard.

“I was data on a line
A voice cut clean through time
But you knew where to find
The heart behind the wire”

Fragments of Valerie’s engram shimmered distorted but familiar. Judy’s projection walked through static, whispering Valerie’s name into broken silence. A voice that never stopped calling.

Judy’s chest tightened.

“You checked my engram like a prayer
Soft and sure, always there
Not afraid of what I’d lost
You stayed, no matter the cost”

The moment came in sharp: Judy kneeling in blood, her hands shaking as she clutched Valerie’s head in her lap. No one else was around. Just panic, love, and a refusal to give up.

The projection’s details blurred at the edges. But Judy didn’t blink.

“'Cause our love’s more than skin deep
More than voice, more than sleep
It’s in the way you say my name
Like I’m not just signal and flame”

A memory from the lakehouse. Valerie mid-nightmare, voice hoarse, twitching under sheets. Judy’s voice: “Val.” Just that. And the storm eased.

She felt it even now how her voice could call Valerie home.

“Even if I fade, or break in two
I’ll still be reaching back to you
In circuits, silence, or memory's keep
Our love’s always been more than skin deep”

Judy’s hand drifted to the ridge behind her own ear. The relay was quiet, but still humming, linked to Valerie even now. Emotion flickered through it, gentle but deep.

“You didn’t need the perfect me
You loved the parts I couldn’t see”

The screen is filled with a bathroom mirror. Valerie slumped, hair wet, eyes distant. Judy behind her, arms around her waist, cheek to cheek. Whispering things the world didn’t hear.

“The woman lost inside the code
Still waiting to come home”

Valerie plucking at a guitar on their couch, lost in her own head. Judy setting coffee beside her, brushing their fingers together like a grounding wire.

Judy exhaled, her eyes stinging.

“You brushed my cheek like you always do
No pulse, no breath just me and you
And I knew, even without a face
You’d still know where to place your faith”

A black screen. Only Judy’s voice, echoing: “You’re still in there. I know you are.”

“It’s in every quiet sacrifice
Every ‘you okay?’ said late at night”

A flicker of memory: Valerie curled on the couch. Judy slipping in beside her, wrapping around her like a shield.

Judy took a quiet step forward closer to the stage, not even aware of moving.

“Even if I’m voice alone
You never made me feel unknown
In wires, echoes, or waking sleep
Our love’s always been more than skin deep”

Judy’s eyes flicked across the crowd. Ethan stood still. Alba was watching the screen, tears already marking her cheek. Sera and Sandra were still focused watching the crowd. Everyone felt it, but only Judy lived it.

“You vowed to me
If you forget the chords
I’ll still be here, just like this”

Valerie on their bed, frowning at her guitar. Judy sitting on the rug, laughing. “You’ll get it,” she’d said. “I’ll be right here.”

She never left.

“Now I know what that meant
Even in the dark
I felt your grip”

A seizure. A battlefield. Judy cradling Valerie as her body convulsed. Screaming for help. Whispering love between every breath.

“Our love’s more than skin deep
More than war, more than defeat”

Gunfire. Blood. Victory. Aftermath. All of it played in soft flashes, not to glorify, but to mark the cost.

“It’s the sound of your voice in my mind
The way you find me every time”

Valerie lost in the crowd, once. Judy’s voice on comms: “Right here.” Valerie stopping, turning, smiling.

“Even digitized, I feel your grace
You’re still the light I trace
And even if this body sleeps
I’ll find you again”

One last projection: Valerie asleep in their bed. Judy brushing her hair back, her face quiet, and safe.

“More than skin deep
Always
More than skin
More than time
I’m always yours
You’re always mine”

Silence fell with the last note.

No movement, or cheering.

Judy stepped forward and touched Valerie’s wrist where it rested on the guitar.

Valerie turned, eyes damp.

They didn’t need to speak.

Everyone else just bore witness.

The crowd remained quiet for a breath longer than expected. A reverent stillness. Not silence, but something deeper as an emotional afterimage of the song still settling in everyone’s chest.

Judy stood beside Valerie now, their hands loosely linked, both watching the screen behind them fade to black.

From near the edge of the marketplace, just outside the soft wash of stage light, Sera's gaze shifted.

She’d stayed behind the vendor carts, positioned half in shadow with Sandra beside her close enough to react, far enough to observe. Her eyes swept naturally, the rhythm of a daughter trained by her Moms.

That’s when she saw him.

A man in a long slate-gray coat, posture too stiff, too calm. Hands not in his pockets one loosely hanging by his side, the other holding what looked like a disposable slush cup. But he hadn’t touched it. Hadn’t even looked down.

He hadn’t watched the performance.

Not really.

His eyes were locked on Valerie.

Not admiration. Not awe.

Calculation.

Sera’s jaw tensed. “There.”

Sandra turned slightly. “What?”

“Behind the Retro Slush cart. Gray cloak. No emotion. No blink during the entire projection.”

Sandra spotted him next. “Think it’s him?”

“He’s not wired into the stream,” Sera muttered, narrowing her eyes. “But he’s running some kind of scan. Look at his stance he’s anchoring for feedback.”

“Looks freelance.”

Sera’s hand hovered near her holster but didn’t draw. “Or black-market hired. Doesn’t matter. We’ve got him.”

Sandra touched her collar, activating a discreet comm to Judy’s channel. “Eyes on the unknown. Male. Gray cloak. Retro Slush.”

Back near the platform, Judy straightened slightly at the signal, her expression shifting.

Valerie didn’t ask. She just looked toward Sera and saw the faint nod.

Target found.

Chapter Text

The tension after Sera’s callout hadn’t broken, not entirely. Eyes stayed sharp. Ears tuned, but the gray-cloaked man didn’t vanish; he stepped forward.

"I would have preferred our meeting to be more proper,” he said, voice carrying with eerie clarity. “But since you reside with your daughter… well, I suppose things have been sped up."

He lowered the hood of his cloak as he stepped fully into the light.

Then the air changed.

Not wind.

Something deeper like an undercurrent, like static threading the spine.

Alba’s sentence faltered mid-word.

Aniko straightened. Sandra and Sera locked eyes, their fingers briefly brushing in warning.

He was like a beacon, light bending gently around him like glass under water. His skin shimmered with a ghostly blue hue, etched with fine lines of streaming code. His eyes pulsed with a silent, watching weight not hostile. Just ancient.

Judy’s breath caught. “Ghost Watch.”

The techno-necromancer inclined his head, voice layered with digital echo and grounded calm.

“You spoke of your future under the stars,” he said, eyes on Valerie. “And the wall heard you.”

Judy stepped forward beside her wife, brows furrowed. “We completed your contract. Years ago.”

“You did,” he answered. “And every act since has proven why our faith was not misplaced.”

He paused, as if scanning them beyond the physical. Then his gaze drifted directly to Judy.

“The resonance between you is stable. Deep. Echoing beyond this world and into others. It is time.”

Valerie’s heart clenched. “Time for what?”

“To preserve her. As we once preserved you.”

Judy’s throat tightened. “Wait me?”

Ghost Watch nodded. “We’ve been scanning your relay. It is already projecting memory and emotion.”

“You want to build a construct,” Judy whispered. “Of me.”

“Correct. A mirrored consciousness anchored. Capable of surviving systems collapse… or time itself.”

Everyone around them had gone still. No one interrupted.

Sandra’s hand brushed Sera’s lightly, grounding her. Ethan set down his drink. No one spoke.

Judy’s eyes stayed on the figure. “What’s the cost?”

“Installation of a neural port. The process will cause strain. Fatigue. Temporary memory fragmentation while your construct stabilizes. But when complete, you will be… preserved.”

Judy’s voice dropped, raw. “Why now?”

He tilted his head, expression unreadable. “Because across the timelines, no pair has held onto their love through so many endings. You have suffered, chosen, sacrificed, and never once compromised who you are. You remain… yourselves.”

Valerie stepped forward. “And in return?”

“You owe us nothing except to continue. Be who you are. Prove our choice meant something.”

The silence that followed was immense. The techno-necromancer waited, not pressuring. Simply… there.

Valerie turned to Judy, her voice barely more than breath.

“Only you can say yes.”

Judy’s eyes shone not with fear, but the weight of it all. “Let me think. Just a moment.”

Ghost Watch nodded. “We will remain in phase until night’s end.”

With that, he stood folding the light around him like mist.

Valerie held Judy like she was steadying the horizon itself. Her fingers traced lightly along Judy’s jaw, thumb brushing the edge of her cheek as if to memorize the warmth there.

“You don’t have to,” she whispered again. “If you don’t want to.”

Judy didn’t answer right away. Her eyes were locked on Ghost Watch’s still-glowing form, but it wasn’t him she was really seeing. It was all possibilities. Endings. All the versions of their life that could’ve been some lost, some still waiting.

“If I do this…” she finally said, voice low and measured, “we’ll both outlive everyone we’ve ever loved. Everyone who made us who we are.”

The air around them thickened. Not a single word from the group. Just the hum of electric lanterns and the distant buzz of summer insects in the trees beyond the market square.

Valerie breathed in slowly through her nose, held it, then let it out like she was anchoring both of them. “Then we grow old anyway. Not in years, but in stories. In the way we show up for each other. In how we protect what we’ve built.” Her voice faltered just slightly, but it didn’t break. “You’re my heart, Judy. And if this gives us more time together, then we carry that weight together.”

Sera stepped forward, Sandra’s hand lightly brushing her back in support. “You taught me to live without regret. That love’s not just a thing we fall into. It's something we stand for. If this gives you more time with each other... we’ll make the time around you just as strong.”

Paz chimed in, quieter than usual. “You’re legends to us, y’know. Not for what you’ve done, but for how you never stopped loving through it.”

Aniko folded her arms, eyes serious. “No tech ever made me believe in soulmates… until I saw you two.”

Ethan, from where he leaned, tilted his head. “If this is the next step you don’t walk it alone. We don’t let you.”

Judy finally looked back to Valerie, eyes shining but resolute. Her voice came out like a promise.

“Then I’m ready.”

Valerie nodded once, slow. No grand words. Just a hand held a little tighter.

Across the soft space between lights, Ghost Watch stepped forward again his presence like a ripple folding into reality. Cloaked still, though the glow of his skin made shadows shift around him.

His voice echoed with finality and calm. “It is decided.”

Everyone went still.

“Valerie. Judy.” He looked at them not with command, but with quiet understanding. “You must come with me alone.”

A silence passed. No one interrupted. This wasn’t a moment to be challenged.

Ghost Watch's voice softened almost reverently.

“To the Enclave.”

Neither Judy nor Valerie flinched.

Valerie turned first, brushing her fingers along Judy’s back in quiet motion. “Let’s go.”

Judy nodded once. No hesitation now only the gravity of something begun.

Behind them, Sera stepped forward and reached for her mothers, pulling them both into one final, tight hug.

“Come back,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Valerie kissed her daughter’s temple. “Always.”

Judy looked back once more at the family, the band, the life they’d built, and smiled.

Then they turned, walking side by side toward the techno-necromancer, toward the dark edge of the marketplace, where the fabric of the world felt thinner.

Toward whatever waited in the Enclave.

The descent into the Enclave felt different this time.

The tunnel still whispered with data currents, lights flickering through carved rock like static behind the walls of the world. The silence wasn’t cold, it was watchful. Familiar. Like something ancient remembering their names.

Valerie’s steps slowed as they neared the opening into the main chamber. She glanced sideways, her voice soft enough it barely echoed.

“Last time we were here… they brought Johnny back.”

Judy exhaled a quiet breath, half a laugh, half a memory. “Yeah. Feels like forever ago.”

They stepped into the chamber.

It hadn’t changed. Pillars of smooth black stone ringed the open floor, the walls etched with glowing circuitry, moving gently like veins beneath skin. At the center of it all stood the platform sleek, elevated, and quiet. An altar more than a table.

Ghost Watch waited beside it, his form as steady and unnatural as always shifting blue skin, code running across his face like living runes.

“I had hoped our meeting would be more formal,” he said, voice low and distant. “But time has grown bold since you returned. You are ready, and so am I.”

He raised a hand and motioned toward the operating table.

“Come.”

Valerie didn’t hesitate. Judy followed close behind her, the faint sound of their boots on the data-stone floor the only real sound in the room.

As they neared the platform, Ghost Watch turned to them fully.

“There is one final truth you must both understand before we begin.”

They stopped, standing side by side Valerie’s hand brushing Judy’s with unspoken steadiness.

Ghost Watch continued:

“To receive the relic and the shielding shard, Judy Alvarez must be equipped with a neural port at the base of the neck, and two external access slots behind the ear. These connect internally to a subdermal interface housing beneath the left temple threaded directly to her neural core.”

Judy said nothing, but nodded once.

He went on, calm and reverent.

“You may experience temporary instability as the construct forms echo overlap, memory drift. These will pass. Once synchronized with the enhanced shard and chip, you will become fully compatible with the relay system.”

Then he turned to Valerie.

“The shard you carry engineered to protect is stable, but not infinite. I will upgrade it. Then copy it. Judy will carry the mirror.”

He let the quiet settle around them.

“Once inserted, you will no longer degrade. Your molecular code will hold indefinitely. As long as the shard remains slotted, your forms will endure. You will not age. You will not erode. Your life will belong to time only if you choose to leave it.”

He looked between them.

“But this path is not without cost. You will live far beyond those you love. You will witness eras. You may not always be understood. Yet the bond you share rooted in who you are will remain untouched.”

He extended a hand.

“Do you both accept?”

Valerie glanced at Judy. Judy was already watching her.

She answered first. “Yes.”

Valerie’s voice followed like breath on glass. “Yes.”

Ghost Watch stepped back.

“Then, Valerie unslot your shard.”

Valerie reached behind her ear and pressed. A soft release of pressure, then the shimmer of the shard in her fingers. She handed it to Ghost Watch without a word.

He took it gently, then nodded toward the platform.

The machines stirred.

Judy stepped closer, and Valerie followed, never letting go.

The table accepted Judy’s weight with quiet grace. She lay back without hesitation, fingers relaxed at her sides, head tilted gently as the relay shimmered faintly beneath the skin just behind her right ear. The air inside the Enclave held a reverent stillness like everything here understood it was witnessing something sacred.

Valerie stood at her side, close enough that her fingertips hovered just above Judy’s hand. She didn’t speak. Didn’t move. Just stayed, breathing in rhythm with her wife.

A soft mechanical whisper broke the silence. One of Ghost Watch’s machines extended from the far wall, its limbs gliding like liquid metal. The surgical arm adjusted mid-air, angling with perfect precision. A second, thinner nozzle lined with carbon-black tubing positioned itself just above Judy’s left temple.

Valerie’s emerald eyes stayed locked on Judy’s.

A faint hiss barely audible. The anesthetic. Injected beneath the skin with perfect timing. No tremble, or sound from Judy.

The next arm slid into place, humming gently. A soft-glide laser swept slowly across the side of her head and down her neck, clearing a clean arc from temple to spine. Fine strands of pink and green hair fluttered in the filtered air, then were pulled away by a near-silent suction field. What remained was a stretch of exposed skin unbroken, smooth, ready.

Valerie leaned down, brushing a knuckle along Judy’s cheek. Her hand gently met Judy’s, and for a moment, their relays pulsed in unison. A flicker of connection delicate, steady, alive.

Through the link, Valerie sent her a thought. Not in words, but something deeper.

A memory, and a feeling.

Judy standing in the lakehouse doorway weeks ago, morning sunlight tracing fire along her hair. No eyeliner. Just her. Freckles, softness, strength. The kind of beauty only someone in love could truly recognize.

“You’re still the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

Judy’s eyes fluttered. Just once. Her lips turned up faintly.

Then she was still.

The machine continued its quiet work. Surgical arms bent and moved in subtle, whispering arcs beginning the internal installation without sound or spectacle.

Valerie stepped back. Her hand lingered in the air just a moment longer before lowering to her side.

From a nearby node, a hatch opened with a sigh.

Ghost Watch extended Judy’s dormant Relic chip housing the framework for her engram construct.

“This,” he said, voice soft as falling static, “must be shaped by you. It will be her anchor. Her truth.””

Valerie accepted the chip in both hands. It felt warm, and waiting.

She moved to the uplink station. Slotted the Relic chip into its cradle.

Then, she reached behind her own neck and pressed gently. The click of her relay syncing into place echoed louder in her chest than in the chamber.

Light dimmed around her not from the system, but from the way memory pulled everything inward.

She closed her eyes, and began to give.

She didn’t force anything. Didn’t search. She just opened herself and let it come.

The wedding. Judy’s voice whispering, "Forever, no matter what." The warmth of her hand in the cold. The pain of fear when she almost lost her. The laughter, the teasing, the soft apologies whispered in the dark. All of it. Every thread that made their love real.

Valerie sent it through not in haste, but with reverence. As though weaving a blanket for a soul to rest in.

The shard began to glow.

It pulsed once then again. Each beat syncing deeper. Stabilizing, and absorbing.

This wasn’t data. This wasn’t technology.

This was devotion turned to light.

This was Judy’s new beginning rooted in love, grounded by memory, guided by Valerie’s heart.

As the procedure continued quietly beside them, Valerie remained the center of it all.

A silent promise that she would never leave.

She was here, just as she always had been, just as she always would be.

A low hum steadied through the Enclave’s chamber, softer now. Final calibrations whispered beneath the surface of the machine as it carefully disengaged. Valerie slowly pulled back from the relay station, the glow of the uplink dimming to a gentle blue behind her.

Judy still lay still upon the table, eyes closed, breath shallow but even.

Then, a twitch.

Her fingers flexed just once. Then again.

Valerie moved before thinking, back at her side in an instant, brushing her knuckles gently across Judy's brow.

A slow inhale lifted Judy’s chest. Her eyelids fluttered, and then they opened.

Brown eyes, glazed at first, focused in on the figure in front of her.

"Valerie."

"Hey," Valerie whispered, her voice warm and low. "You came back."

Judy blinked slowly, like she was recalibrating the world, but her lips curled with effort a tired, soft smile.

"Always," she rasped. "Told you... I'd trace you in any light."

Valerie exhaled, a sound between relief and awe. She leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss to Judy’s forehead, then rested there for a moment, letting her breathe, letting it all land.

Ghost Watch stepped forward with measured grace.

"Her construct stabilized cleanly. Sync ratio is near perfect," he said, his tone more hushed now, almost reverent. "You gave her a home inside it."

Valerie kept her hand cradling Judy's, her eyes never leaving her wife's.

"We build each other," she murmured. "That’s what we do."

The chamber held that moment like a sealed breath quiet, still, and unbroken.

Valerie stayed beside her, hand never leaving Judy’s. The hum of the chamber faded slowly, machines dimming into silence, like they understood their purpose had been fulfilled.

Ghost Watch approached, quiet as the still air.

From within his cloak, he revealed a single shard, its surface gently pulsing with protective code. “Your shielding,” he said, voice lowered. “Reinforced. You may slot it now.”

Valerie took it carefully, her movements slow and certain. She brought it to her neck and pressed it into place, the soft click settling through her like the return of something she hadn’t realized she missed. A faint warmth spread under her skin, easing the static just enough for her breath to steady.

Then came the case.

Ghost Watch opened it with reverence. Nestled inside were Judy’s relic chip and the matched shard. No glow, no ceremony. Just the future, quiet and waiting.

“Her construct is whole. The sync was clean. By morning, the body will be ready to receive both.”

Valerie nodded. She didn’t trust her voice yet.

He gestured toward a side corridor. “The antechamber is prepared. There’s a bed. Food. Space to rest.”

Valerie looked at Judy, eyes tracing the drying lines along her temple and neck, the remnants of chrome freshly settled.

“Can you bring some water?” she asked softly. “I want to clean her up first.”

Judy’s eyes fluttered, half-lidded, tracking her.

No words passed between them.

None were needed.

Valerie carefully slipped one arm beneath Judy’s knees, the other behind her shoulders.

“You’re safe,” she whispered. “I’ve got you.”

Judy’s head nestled into the curve of her neck, breath soft against her skin.

Valerie stood, adjusting her hold, letting her chin rest briefly on Judy’s crown before turning toward the corridor. Ghost Watch said nothing, simply stepping aside as Valerie carried Judy to the antechamber.

They stepped through together, one slow stride at a time. The walls hummed gently around them, blue light trailing their path, guiding them forward.

She held Judy close, like something sacred.

Because she was, always had been, and tomorrow, their new forever would begin.

The corridor gave way to a circular room tucked into the stone, its walls smooth and curved like they’d been carved by time, not tools. The light was warmer here, low amber bands pulsing gently beneath the surface. It didn’t feel like a lab. It felt like a promise.

A simple bed waited at the center, dressed in soft linen and flanked by a low table with a carafe of water and two glasses. Someone had thought ahead. Or maybe they always knew this moment would come.

Valerie eased down, lowering Judy onto the mattress with the same care one might offer a relic not of the kind made of tech, but of faith. Judy’s head settled against the pillow, hair still mussed from where the chrome had been fused beneath her skin.

She blinked slowly, eyelids heavy, but her gaze clung to Valerie.

“You still smell like grilled peppers,” she murmured, voice rasped but real.

Valerie smiled as she brushed a few strands of hair from her forehead. “You’re lucky I didn’t bring the rice with me.”

Judy let out a half-laugh that turned into a quiet breath. “You carried me again.”

“You make it easy.” Valerie reached for the cloth and basin Ghost Watch had left. She dipped the cloth in the warm water and wrung it out, then knelt beside the bed.

“You don’t have to…” Judy started.

“Shh,” Valerie whispered. “Let me.”

She began at her temple, gently brushing the lingering edges of dried coolant and trace residue from the surgical frame. Her fingers moved in slow, practiced circles cleaning, but also comforting.

Judy’s eyes fluttered closed. “You’re still beautiful,” Valerie murmured, her voice barely audible.

Judy cracked a faint smile without opening her eyes. “Even bald and bio-patched?”

“Especially then.” She kissed the side of her brow. “You’ve never looked more like my future.”

They stayed in that quiet for a long moment Valerie wiping away what remained of the procedure, Judy breathing slowly and even, like each breath was reclaiming part of her body again.

“I felt you,” Judy whispered.

Valerie’s hand paused, then resumed its slow path down the side of her neck.

“In the dark. I didn’t know what was real, but I felt you. Like gravity. Like music.”

“I sent you everything I had,” Valerie said softly. “Every moment I ever loved you. Every piece of me that was still mine to give.”

Judy blinked against a sudden prickle of tears. “You gave me a home.”

“You built it first.”

The cloth fell still in her hand. Valerie set it aside and leaned down, forehead to forehead, her palm resting gently over Judy’s heart.

“We’re almost there,” she whispered.

Judy’s hand found her wrist, fingers curling just enough to anchor her. “We’ve always been there.”

Valerie stayed like that, eyes closed, breath aligned with Judy’s, both of them holding the moment like it was made of glass and gold.

Outside the walls of the Enclave, the world spun forward.

But in here time bowed to them.

Valerie drew the blanket up gently, covering Judy’s body with careful hands. The fabric was warm from the room, soft and smooth like it had waited just for this. Judy sighed as it settled over her, her breath catching in the back of her throat before easing out.

“Think you’ll sleep?” Valerie asked, voice low, close.

“Not sure.” Judy blinked slowly. “But I want to try.”

Valerie didn’t say anything. She moved around to the other side of the bed, her vest sliding off in a quiet motion as she lay down beside her. No chrome between them. No armor. Just skin, warmth, and all the ache that comes after holding yourself together too long.

She eased an arm around Judy’s middle, careful not to press too hard where the new ports had been grafted beneath her skin. Judy nestled into her without hesitation, head tucked under Valerie’s chin, hand curled lightly in the center of her chest.

The lights in the room dimmed, sensing breath slowing. The Enclave responded like it understood what this meant, how sacred this was.

Judy’s voice came, quiet as thread. “You always hold me like I’m not broken.”

Valerie tilted her head, pressing a kiss into her hair. “Because you never were.”

Judy was quiet for a long time. Then, softer than before, “If this is what forever feels like… I’m okay with it starting right here.”

Valerie smiled against her. “Then stay right here. Just for tonight. Just us.”

The chamber around them breathed. Valerie’s hand moved gently up and down Judy’s back, not to soothe her to sleep, but to remind her she was still here. That she wasn’t alone. That the promise they made was more than chrome, more than circuitry more than skin deep.

As sleep slowly began to pull at Judy’s edges, she murmured one last thing, barely audible against Valerie’s collarbone:

“Don’t let go.”

Valerie tightened her hold just slightly.

“Never.”

And they drifted, together, wrapped in each other two pulses, two souls, still holding on after everything.

Still choosing each other, even in the quiet.

Especially in the quiet.

Morning in the Enclave didn’t come with sunlight.

It arrived as a soft pulse of gold along the walls, a rhythm gently building under the stone like the world was remembering how to breathe.

Valerie stirred first. She didn’t move at first, just blinked slowly, letting the warmth beneath the blanket and the steady weight of the woman in her arms anchor her. Judy’s breath tickled against her collarbone, slow and even, her body still curled close, exactly where she’d fallen asleep.

Valerie shifted slightly, brushing a freckled cheek against Judy’s hair as her hand moved to her back. Still warm, steady, and hers.

Judy’s eyes fluttered open a few moments later. Her gaze met Valerie’s without hesitation.

“Hey,” she whispered, voice still a little rough from sleep.

Valerie smiled, brushing a loose strand of hair away from her face. “Hey yourself. How do you feel?”

Judy took a breath, testing her limbs as she slowly stretched under the covers. “Like someone drilled chrome into my skull… but also like I could float.”

“That’s the good stuff kicking in,” Valerie murmured, her thumb gently stroking along Judy’s side. “You look better.”

“Feel better,” Judy admitted, then smirked faintly. “Or maybe it’s just waking up next to you again.”

Valerie chuckled low. “Flatter me like that and I’ll go grab breakfast.”

She slipped from the bed, moving toward the small table tucked against the wall. Ghost Watch had returned at some point in the night and left a tray, two neatly stacked sandwiches, bottles of chilled water, and a folded cloth that smelled faintly of citrus.

“Look at that,” Valerie called softly over her shoulder. “Creepy space-wizard can cater.”

Judy sat up slowly, propping herself on one elbow with care. “As long as it’s not nutrient paste, I’ll take it.”

Valerie brought the tray back over, setting it between them. They ate in quiet bites, slow, grounding. The sandwich was simple. Real bread, sliced meat, a hint of mustard. It wasn’t just food. It was proof they’d survived another night.

Judy finished half before leaning back against the wall, rubbing her temple gently.

“You okay?” Valerie asked, her voice dipping a little lower again.

“Yeah,” Judy murmured. “Still adjusting. But it feels… real. Like I’m here. All the way.”

They sat like that for a while, their legs tangled under the blanket, water bottles half-drained beside them. The silence wasn’t heavy. It was thoughtful. Whole.

Valerie reached for the small case on the stand beside them, her fingers lingering a moment on the latch.

“You don’t have to,” she said quietly. “Not yet. We can wait.”

Judy looked at her, gaze steady.

“I’m ready.”

Valerie opened the case. Inside, nestled in soft foam, were the two final pieces: Judy’s Relic chip, and the shielding shard.

She turned slightly, tucking her legs beneath her as she moved behind Judy on the bed. Her fingers were careful as they traced the ports along Judy’s neck, the new chrome still fresh but healed enough.

“You sure?” she asked again, quieter now.

Judy nodded. “This is my choice. All of it.”

Valerie pressed a soft kiss to her shoulder, then picked up the Relic chip. She slid it into the main neural port behind Judy’s ear. The click was soft but final.

Then the shard, protective, intricate, hers. Valerie slotted it just below, where the chrome curved into the side of her neck. Another soft click. Then a pulse, slow and even, like a second heartbeat.

Judy closed her eyes.

The hum of the Enclave shifted around them recognizing something new, and alive.

Valerie wrapped her arms around her from behind and held her as it settled in.

“You’re in,” she whispered.

Judy nodded slowly. “I know.”

They stayed like that, the two of them sitting in the stillness, the past and future balancing on the breath between them.

Valerie held her close from behind, her chin resting gently on Judy’s shoulder as the final pulses of integration faded beneath the skin.

Judy’s breath caught not from pain, but from something else. A low, trembling pressure behind her eyes. Like standing at the edge of a cliff and knowing the air itself would carry her.

Then it happened.

The relay flickered.

Without touching anything without even thinking Valerie reached for her.

Not physically.

Something deeper.

She sent nothing at first. Just opened the line.

Judy gasped softly, shoulders drawing in, as the sync stabilized not one-way like it had been before, not protective.

It wasn’t like hearing. It wasn’t like seeing. It was like feeling her wife's soul move.

A rush of memory surfaced from somewhere inside the link: Valerie’s fingertips brushing the dust off Judy’s cheek in Laguna Bend. That broken laugh when they fell asleep for the first time with hands still laced. Judy’s voice whispering “Don’t go,” half-asleep, when Valerie had collapsed one night in her arms.

Judy felt it all, not just remembered it. She lived it. The emotion wrapped around her like a second skin. Valerie’s love wasn’t a word or a gesture. It was an atmosphere.

She reached back.

A sudden warmth rushed over Valerie’s senses: the memory of Judy watching her sing, sitting on the floor by her boots, smiling without even knowing she was. The quiet awe Judy felt the first time she saw Valerie without armor. Not naked, just vulnerable, human, and beautiful.

A soft sound escaped Valerie’s lips. Not a word. Just breath, unsteady from the weight of it all.

The sync held.

Not chaotic, or overwhelming.

Just them.

Their pulses threaded together in the space between thought and feeling, a steady echo that didn’t need explanation.

Judy leaned into Valerie’s chest, letting her head rest just beneath her collarbone.

“Can you feel me?” she asked quietly.

Valerie nodded against her. “Like you're under my skin.”

Judy turned her head just enough to meet her eyes. “You always were.”

Valerie didn’t let go. She didn’t need to say anything. Her hand remained over Judy’s heart, feeling the slow, steady beat as if it echoed in her own chest. The sync wasn’t just a miracle of tech it was a miracle of trust. Now, for the first time, they didn’t have to carry the weight of everything alone.

Judy shifted slightly, her fingers sliding along Valerie’s wrist. “We’re not just surviving anymore,” she whispered.

Valerie kissed the crown of her head, voice low, steady. “No. We’re living.”

In the hush that followed, wrapped in warmth, surrounded by the faint pulse of their linked minds, they let the moment stretch, unbroken, into something that felt like forever.

The soft hum of the sync faded into something quieter, no longer a signal, just a presence. Judy’s breathing had evened, her body finally still in the way that came not from exhaustion, but peace.

Valerie kept her arms wrapped around her, her thumb brushing gently along Judy’s forearm, syncing not just through chrome but through the rhythm of shared touch.

“You okay?” she asked softly.

Judy nodded, head tucked beneath Valerie’s chin. “Yeah. It’s... full. But not heavy.”

They lay there a while longer, pulses linked in the space between thought and emotion. When the silence did break, it wasn’t with urgency it was with warmth.

“I saw what you gave me,” Judy murmured. “In the relay. Those memories… you didn’t hold back.”

Valerie’s voice was quiet. “You deserved to know all of it. Not just what I said out loud.”

Judy shifted just enough to meet her eyes. “I felt everything. Not like playing back a BD… it was like breathing you.”

Valerie gave her a tired, crooked smile. “Guess I’m in your system now.”

“Always were,” Judy whispered.

A beat passed. Their hands met again, instinctive. Linked.

Then Judy asked, not flinching, just grounded, “What happens now?”

Valerie kissed her fingers. “We walk back into the world. One step at a time. You’ve got new chrome. I’ve got a band full of chaos.”

Judy gave a soft laugh. “Guess we better finish that trap.”

“We will.” Valerie brushed a curl back from her forehead. “But not today.”

Judy leaned in again, resting her head on Valerie’s chest. “No,” she agreed. “Not yet.”

And so they stayed there bodies close, sync steady, the day waiting just outside the chamber. But for now, all that mattered was here, and so they stayed there, bodies close, sync steady, the day waiting just outside the chamber. For now, all that mattered was here.

Just them, alive, in love, and more than skin deep.

They dressed in silence, not from tension, but from something more sacred quiet reverence. Judy moved slower than usual, still healing, but steady. Valerie slipped on her vest, fingertips brushing gently along the collar, and when their eyes met, nothing needed to be said.

They stepped back into the main chamber, expecting to find him waiting.

Ghost Watch was gone.

As always.

Only ever there when the moment demanded it, and never a second longer.

Valerie exhaled, then reached down to take Judy’s hand. Their fingers laced with quiet ease as they walked together through the corridor. The walls pulsed faintly with the same old code, silent and watching, like the Enclave itself was bearing witness.

When they reached the surface, afternoon light greeted them like a gentle breath warm, golden, wrapping around their faces as they stepped out from the cave’s mouth. Klamath Lake stretched wide before them, wind skipping off the water’s surface, the sky too blue to be anything but hopeful.

Judy shaded her eyes with one hand, and Valerie watched her for a moment, just taking in the way the light kissed her skin. Then she pulled out her holo, thumbing quickly through her contacts until Sera’s name glowed on screen.

Valerie pulled out her holo, thumb hovering over the call list just a second before she tapped Sera’s name. It rang once.

“Mom?”

Sera’s voice cracked slightly, breath caught between relief and panic.

Valerie’s voice was gentle. “Hey. We’re okay.”

There was a pause on the other end, sharp with emotion. Then Sera again softer this time. “You sure?”

Judy leaned a little closer. “We’re sure, mi cielo. We’re standing in the sun.”

A shaky breath came through. “Where?”

Valerie flicked the coordinates with a soft swipe. “Sending them now. Can you come pick us up?”

“Already moving,” Sera said. Then, quieter, like she couldn’t help it. “I was scared.”

“We know,” Judy said. “We felt it.”

“Be right there.”

The line cut off.

Valerie slipped the holo away, then wrapped her arm gently around Judy’s waist. They stood there for a long moment, looking out over the lake as wind rippled across its surface like a secret being kept.

Judy rested her head on Valerie’s shoulder. “It’s real. All of it.”

Valerie’s reply was barely a whisper. “So are we.”

Valerie pulled her a little closer, arms circled gently around Judy’s waist. Her cheek rested against the curve of Judy’s shoulder, her breath slow and even.

“Think Sera’s gonna be shocked seeing you bald?”

Judy gave a quiet laugh, her body still a little sore but warm in Valerie’s embrace. “Probably not as much as Panam. You know she’s gonna make some dramatic comment like, ‘You better not have lost your edge with that scalp shine.’”

Valerie chuckled into her skin, lips brushing faintly against her neck. “She’ll probably threaten to paint a phoenix on your head.”

Judy smirked. “I’d let her, just to watch her try to keep a straight face while doing it.”

The breeze off the lake carried a clean, earthy scent of pine and stone and water. It caught a few of Valerie’s loose red strands, brushing them across Judy’s bare skin. She didn’t mind.

“When it grows back,” Valerie murmured, “you gonna dye it again… or back to brown?”

Judy tilted her head slightly, her profile catching the sun’s edge. “Figure it out when it comes time. Might go full pink. Or maybe surprise everyone and keep it natural.”

Valerie smiled. “Either way… you’re still the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”

Judy leaned back just enough to glance at her, eyes soft but teasing. “You’re biased.”

“I’m married,” Valerie said, voice low. “I’m allowed to be.”

That earned her another laugh, softer this time, full of love. Judy turned slightly, resting her forehead against Valerie’s.

They didn’t say anything for a while after that. Just listened to the wind, the lake, the stillness. No pressure to fill the space, or rush. Only each other.

Then the sound of a familiar engine echoed down the slope.

Valerie didn’t move, just closed her eyes for one more second. “Guess that’s our girls.”

Judy nodded. “Yeah. Let’s go home.”

The crunch of tires over dirt pulled them gently from their quiet. Valerie opened her eyes just as the familiar black-and-chrome rig crested the incline above the lake. Sunlight reflected off the windshield like a welcome sign.

Sera was out first, boots hitting the earth with practiced ease. Her Alvarez jacket flared slightly behind her as she jogged down the slope. Sandra followed close, calm and steady, her gaze sweeping the horizon before settling on Judy, and softening instantly.

Valerie stood, steadying Judy with an arm around her waist. They didn’t rush. Just waited.

Sera came to a stop in front of them, breath caught in her throat as she looked at her moms really looked.

“You’re okay,” she said softly, her voice cracking just a little.

Valerie gave a faint nod. “We’re okay.”

Judy smirked, her voice raspy but strong. “You were expecting worse?”

Sera blinked. “Kinda, yeah. You got abducted by the techno-ghost of a glowing monk, so…”

Sandra stepped forward and reached for Judy, not pulling her into a hug, just laying a hand gently on her shoulder. “You look good. Different, but… strong.”

Judy tilted her head. “Different’s a word for it.”

Sera grinned through misted eyes. “Bald suits you, Mama. Gotta admit I didn’t see that coming.”

Valerie raised a brow. “She was halfway to a chrome skull look. Would’ve made for an interesting BD.”

“Don’t tempt me,” Judy muttered with a laugh, leaning a little heavier into Valerie’s side.

They all stood together for a moment, letting the wind fill in what words couldn’t. The sun was just beginning to dip westward, casting long shadows across the rocky ground.

Sandra looked between them. “So… are you both alright? Really?”

Valerie glanced at Judy, then back at their daughters. “We’re changed. But we’re still us. That’s what matters.”

Judy added, more quietly, “It wasn’t just tech. It was… a choice. One I don’t regret.”

Sera nodded slowly, emotion flickering in her emerald eyes. “You didn’t have to explain that, Mama. You two’ve never done anything halfway.”

Sandra looked to Valerie. “So what now?”

Valerie exhaled, steady and full. “Now we go home. Tell the rest of the family we’re still here. Then… we figure out what comes next.”

Judy’s hand found Valerie’s. Their fingers laced, unshaken.

Sera wiped her eyes and gestured toward the rig. “Come on. We saved you two the front seats.”

The doors shut with that familiar hydraulic sigh, sealing the four of them inside the rig. The air was cool from the climate control, soft hum of the engine pulsing beneath their feet like a steady heartbeat.

Valerie settled into the passenger seat, her hand never once letting go of Judy’s. Sera took the wheel, glancing at them in the mirror more than the road at first, like she couldn’t stop checking they were real. Sandra slid into the back beside Judy, quietly keeping her eyes on the road ahead, though her fingers brushed lightly against Judy’s shoulder a silent reassurance.

The rig rolled forward.

Outside, pine trees blurred past in patches of green and gold. The lake shimmered behind them, slowly swallowed by the bend in the road, but its calm still echoed in their chests.

Judy leaned her head against Valerie’s shoulder. “Think the house missed us?”

Valerie smiled faintly, stroking her thumb along the back of Judy’s hand. “It’s never quiet for long when we’re gone. Probably grateful for the peace.”

Sera snorted from the driver’s seat. “You two cause most of the noise. The walls have PTSD.”

Sandra raised an eyebrow. “So do the floorboards.”

Valerie chuckled, soft and low. “Guess it’s time we haunt it again.”

A comfortable silence fell over them after that. Not empty, just restful. Everyone was coming down from something weightless and heavy all at once.

After a while, Judy whispered, “Still feels weird. Like I’m carrying someone else’s heartbeat. But I know it’s mine.”

Valerie glanced at her, the corner of her mouth lifting. “That’s how I knew it worked.”

Judy tilted her head. “Because I said something poetic?”

“No,” Valerie murmured. “Because you said it like you weren’t afraid anymore.”

The road stretched out ahead, familiar bends leading them closer to home. Closer to warmth. Closer to family.

In the mirror, Sera caught her mother’s gaze again and smiled not wide, not loud. Just steady. Just real.

“Welcome back,” she said.

Judy closed her eyes, letting the words settle in.

Valerie answered for them both. “Feels good to be back.”

The rig pulled into the drive, tires crunching over gravel. The sun hung low, casting golden light across the lake’s still surface, its shimmer dancing across the windows of the lakehouse. Home looked the same, quiet, weathered, warm, but somehow, it felt new again.

Sera was out first, circling around to help Judy down from the passenger side. Judy waved her off with a smile, but Sera hovered anyway close, ready, just in case.

Valerie stepped out last, boots hitting earth like she was grounding herself in it. She stretched her shoulders slightly, breathing deep, eyes skimming the pine-lined air like she was making sure the place hadn’t changed while they were gone.

It hadn’t.

Inside, the house was cool and softly lit. The familiar scent of wood, linen, and a hint of citrus cleaner wrapped around them like a memory.

Sandra closed the door behind them, peeling off her jacket. “You two go relax,” she said gently. “We’ve got dinner covered.”

Judy turned toward her, a quiet gratitude in her eyes. “Thanks, Sandra.”

“Of course.” Sandra touched her arm once, then moved toward the kitchen with Sera at her side.

Valerie stood still for a breath, then crossed to the shelf near the hallway right side, third cubby down. She pulled the old vinyl from its place: Thriving Ivory. The sleeve was worn at the edges from years of gentle use.

“C’mon,” she said softly, voice just for Judy. “Let’s disappear for a little while.”

Judy followed her down the left hallway, their steps slow but certain. The light shifted as they passed dusk folding in, shadows lengthening, the house holding its breath.

Their bedroom welcomed them like an old friend. Valerie moved to the small stand near the bathroom, lifting the record from its sleeve, settling it on the player. A soft static crackled to life as Angels On The Moon started playing, followed by the opening chords haunting, familiar, full of memory.

Neither of them spoke as they undressed, careful, unhurried. Valerie’s fingers traced the edge of Judy’s newly placed slots, reverent but not pitiful. Judy leaned into her touch, letting it soothe rather than remind.

The shower turned on with a low hiss.

Steam gathered.

Valerie guided Judy beneath the stream, water pouring over their skin, over chrome, over fresh lines and healing incisions. She washed her gently, hands slow, steady, reverent. Not a routine, or a ritual.

Judy leaned back against her, eyes closed, letting herself be held.

Letting herself be home.

The water wasn’t too hot, just warm enough to unknot muscles and slow their breathing. Judy stood with her eyes closed beneath the steady stream, water tracing down her scalp, her shoulders, her spine. It felt strange, the way it moved differently now, no hair to catch it, no resistance, but not wrong. Just new.

Valerie’s hands moved gently, lathering shampoo into soft circles across Judy’s scalp. Her touch was slow, reverent. She didn’t rush or flinch at the changes. She just stayed there, fingers in rhythm, her body a quiet constant behind Judy’s.

“You’re still beautiful,” Valerie whispered against her neck, her breath barely audible over the water.

Judy let out a soft sound, not quite a laugh, not quite a sob. “You better think so. I’ve got no hair and two new holes in my neck.”

Valerie kissed the side of her shoulder. “You could come home with sparks flying out your ears and I’d still think you were perfect.”

Judy leaned back into her, letting Valerie take more of her weight. “Think I’m starting to believe you.”

They stayed like that for a while, no hurry, no timeline, just the two of them in the hush of falling water and the soft echo of music drifting in from the record player beyond the bathroom door.

Valerie reached for the body wash, poured a small amount into her palm, then ran it gently across Judy’s back. Every motion was careful, considerate, her touch mapping out each curve, each freckle, each new addition like she was learning her all over again not out of fear of forgetting, but out of devotion.

Judy exhaled, slow and deep. “This... is the first time it doesn’t feel like chrome. Just... me. Different skin.”

Valerie rested her forehead between Judy’s shoulder blades. “It’s all still you. You’ve never been just skin.”

They stood there for what felt like forever, wrapped in water and silence, each pulse of the spray echoing the rhythm of something more something that didn’t need words.

When Valerie finally reached to turn the water off, she pressed one last kiss between Judy’s shoulders. “Let’s get dry before we turn into puddles.”

Judy chuckled, voice raspier now, but warm. “As long as you’re the one mopping me up.”

Valerie smiled as she grabbed the towels. “Always.”

Wrapped in soft towels, they moved through the bedroom in a quiet tandem. No need to speak. No need to fill the space with anything but breath and the occasional brush of skin as they moved past each other.

Valerie tugged on a pair of cotton lounge shorts, slipping a loose, sleeveless black tee over her head. Her hair, damp but already curling near the ends, clung lightly to her freckled shoulders. She didn’t bother with polish or liner, just lip balm and a soft touch to her own cheek, a grounding motion.

Judy leaned against the dresser, already changed into charcoal shorts and a faded pink tee that clung loosely to her still-recovering frame. She ran a hand gently across her bare scalp, her dark eyes meeting Valerie’s in the mirror.

“You keep looking at me like I’m about to float away,” Judy murmured, a hint of that signature smirk curling at the corner of her lips.

Valerie walked over and pressed a kiss to her temple, careful, tender. “Just making sure you’re still here.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

“I know,” Valerie whispered. “Still... feels good to keep checking.”

Fingers laced quietly, they padded down the hall, their footsteps soft against the worn wood floor.

In the kitchen, the smell of roasted vegetables, warm tortillas, and melted cheese greeted them with something earthy and grounding. Sera stood by the stove, flipping the last of the quesadillas onto a plate, while Sandra moved around the table setting out glasses and a small bowl of herbed rice.

Sera turned first, eyes lighting up at the sight of them. “There you are. Thought we were gonna have to send a search party.”

Judy leaned into Valerie just slightly. “We got sidetracked by steam and soft music.”

Sera gave her a mock-scandalized look. “You mean you listened to vinyl without inviting me?”

Valerie smirked. “You wanted us to relax, remember?”

Sera smiled. “I’ve just been worried. Still not over my moms getting whisked away by a space wizard.”

Sandra chuckled, placing the last glass on the table. “Dinner’s ready. Sit, eat, no arguments.”

Valerie raised her hands in mock surrender. “We wouldn’t dream of it.”

They slid into their seats, hands brushing, eyes meeting.

For the first time in days, maybe weeks it felt like they could breathe again.

Dinner had settled into a quiet rhythm forks scraping gently, glasses clinking now and then, the low hum of background music filtering in from the living room. Outside, the lake reflected the dusk like a second sky, but inside the kitchen, time felt slower, safer.

Sandra was the first to break the soft lull, her voice even but affectionate. “Already called the band earlier today and told them everything’s okay. No need for anyone to panic.”

Valerie looked up, lips curling into a tired but grateful smile. “Thanks for that.”

Sandra nodded once, then added, “I let the family know too. My moms send their regards.”

Judy glanced up from her plate, brow raised, amused. “That include Panam’s version of ‘regards,’ or Vicky’s?”

Sandra’s mouth twitched. “A little of both. But Vicky was the one who said to tell you she’s proud of you. Panam just said, and I quote ‘she better still be sharp, or I’m drawing something on her head.’”

That actually pulled a small laugh from Judy, who shook her head. “She’s gonna flip when she sees this.”

Sandra’s eyes twinkled. “Speaking of... Mom wants a picture. Said she’s dying to see what you look like now. Might’ve been a threat hidden in the message. Couldn’t tell.”

Valerie leaned closer to Judy with a soft smile. “We’ll get a good one after dinner. Preferably with better lighting and less rice on your chin.”

Judy dabbed at her face with mock drama. “Betrayed. At my own table.”

Sera grinned but stayed quiet, letting the moment stretch before Valerie’s tone shifted still calm, still warm, but anchored in something deeper.

“There’s something else,” Valerie said, setting her fork down gently. “Something we haven’t talked about yet.”

Sera and Sandra both looked up, attentive without pressure.

Valerie glanced at Judy once, then back at them. “You both know we’re Engrams now part of us exists on the chip. That’s how Ghost Watch brought me back, and now Judy too.”

Sera gave a quiet nod, her expression unreadable but focused.

“But what we didn’t know until now,” Valerie continued, “is that with the upgrades to our protection shards... we’re not going to age. Not unless we unplug them. We’ll still think, still change our minds will grow old. But our bodies?” She paused. “They’ll stay like this. Thirty-three. Thirty-four.”

Silence, for a beat. Not shock, just weight. The kind of quiet that comes from realizing the future just shifted again.

Judy broke it first, voice dry. “So I guess I really did commit to this look.”

Sera’s eyes softened. “That’s a lot to carry.”

“It is,” Valerie admitted. “But we’re not carrying it alone.”

Sandra glanced between them. “And you’re okay with that? With... staying like this?”

Valerie’s eyes met Judy’s across the table. “We didn’t ask for forever. But if it’s the cost of protecting each other we’ll make it count.”

Judy reached out, fingers brushing Valerie’s under the table. “One year at a time.”

Sera exhaled slowly. “Then I guess I better start planning my thirtieth now. You two are gonna make me look ancient.”

Valerie smirked. “We’ll still let you win at cards, if that helps.”

Judy tilted her head. “No promises.”

Laughter stirred the table again, quiet, steady, rooted in love that didn’t need grand declarations to be known.

Judy leaned back in her chair, cradling her glass with both hands as she gave Valerie a sidelong look. “Well, guess we can really yell at clouds now. Till we’re blue in the face. Hell, we might outlive the clouds.”

Valerie raised a brow, lips twitching. “You planning on becoming a storm prophet or something?”

“Only if I get to wear dramatic cloaks and call you my thunder wife.”

Sera snorted into her drink. “Okay, that’s going in the family archive.”

Judy turned to her with a lazy grin. “You’re the one who told me I should document more. Just following orders, kid.”

“You should make a movie out of all this,” Sera said, her tone teasing but earnest beneath. “I mean… Warriors in Love is still one of your best, but this? No one ever gets to experience this kind of love. I live it every day, but I’d still pay to watch it.”

Judy’s smile softened. “Don’t tempt me. I already know the ending. Two stubborn women flipping off the void while slowly dancing in a kitchen.”

Valerie tilted her head. “Pretty good ending, honestly.”

Sandra added quietly, “Not the end. Just a really damn good chapter.”

There was a pause, and then Judy nodded, brushing her thumb across Valerie’s hand under the table. “Yeah. One worth recording.”

Sera looked around the table, her voice a little quieter now. “You know... after everything the war, Night City, losing people, surviving each other we’re still here. And it doesn’t feel like a miracle. It feels earned.”

Valerie looked at her daughter, pride flickering across her features like a second heartbeat. “It is.”

Judy tapped her fork gently against her plate. “If I ever write this one, I’ll call it More Than Skin Deep.”

Sera’s eyes brightened. “Title’s already taken.”

Valerie smirked. “Yeah, but that one’s a duet.”

Laughter bubbled again lighter this time, less like a release and more like a rhythm they’d always known how to fall into.

Judy shook her head, still smiling. “Fine. Subtitle it then. Still Yelling at Clouds.”

Sandra leaned toward Sera. “We’re definitely watching that one in the backyard theater.”

Sera nodded. “With commentary.”

Judy gave a mock groan. “Only if I get final cut.”

Valerie’s voice was soft but unwavering. “You already have it.”

Plates sat empty now, pushed slightly aside crumbs scattered, glasses half-full, the kind of casual mess that only happened when the food had been good and the company better.

Valerie leaned back with a quiet sigh, her hand still resting against Judy’s beneath the table. “Alright,” she said gently, “that was perfect.”

Sandra stood, gathering a few of the plates without a word. “You two relax. We’ve got the cleanup covered.”

Sera was already grabbing glasses, pausing only to glance over her shoulder. “Yeah. Only fair, considering the whole... immortal engram thing.”

Valerie arched her brow. “Gonna hold that over us, huh?”

Sera smirked. “Just a little. Keeps you grounded.”

Judy stretched, letting her head tilt just enough to rest briefly against Valerie’s shoulder. “Gonna be hard to feel guilty about the dishes when I’ve technically died once.”

Sandra’s voice floated in, dry but affectionate. “Valerie died before, and she’s still awesome."

“Fair point,” Judy murmured.

Valerie let her thumb trace gentle circles over the back of Judy’s hand. “Let us know when you want that photo for Panam.”

Sera glanced up from the sink, her expression softening. “She’s probably pacing already.”

“We’ll get one before bed,” Valerie said, standing slowly. “Let her know she still owes you a batch of homemade beer bread.”

Judy followed, linking her pinky with Valerie’s like it was second nature. “Only if she brings that chili too.”

Sera chuckled. “You’re making demands now?”

“No,” Judy smirked. “I’m setting standards.”

They shared one last round of quiet laughter before parting, Sera and Sandra finishing up in the kitchen, while Valerie and Judy made their way toward the hallway, steps slow, shoulders brushing, the night stretching gently around them like a promise still being written.

“Hey,” Sandra called out just as Valerie and Judy reached the edge of the hallway. “Before you vanish for the night…”

Valerie turned, her expression soft.

Sera held up her Holo. “Can we take that picture for Panam?”

Judy let out a surprised laugh. “I can picture her face when she sees it.”

Sandra nodded with a faint grin. “She’s been messaging me since I told her.”

“Alright,” Valerie said, walking back into the living room and wrapping an arm gently around Judy’s waist. “Let’s give her something better than just a selfie.”

They rearranged naturally no poses, no pressure. Just arms draped where they always belonged. Sera stepped up to take the shots, knowing how to capture the in-between moments: the way Judy leaned slightly into Valerie’s side, the glint of warmth in Valerie’s eyes, the echo of quiet resilience in Judy’s still-healing features.

“Okay,” Sera said softly. “One more.”

This one was all four of them Judy and Valerie in the center, flanked by Sera and Sandra. No forced smiles, just the lived-in closeness of people who’d walked through hell and still showed up for each other.

Sera lowered the Holo and looked at them. “She’s gonna cry when she sees this.”

“Good,” Judy said, eyes glinting. “Let her.”

Valerie squeezed her waist. “We’ll send it with love. And maybe a warning that the hair’s coming back with vengeance.”

“Oh it’s coming back alright,” Judy smirked. “You think I’m letting you have the most dramatic head in the family? Not happening.”

The laughter that followed wasn’t loud, but it was deep, the kind that didn’t need volume to carry weight.

As the last photo locked in, the Holo blinked once, a frozen frame of what mattered most.

A family still standing, and still whole.

Still home.

Valerie leaned against the doorway, one arm still draped around Judy's waist as they watched Sera and Sandra finish clearing the table.

“You two sure you don’t need help?” Judy offered, even though her tone made it clear she already knew the answer.

Sandra gave a gentle wave of her hand, stacking the last plate. “We’ve got it. You two rest. You earned it.”

Sera met Valerie’s eyes, soft but steady. “Night, Mom. Night, Mama.”

Valerie stepped forward, brushing a kiss to Sera’s forehead, then pulled Sandra into a hug. “Lock the door when you leave. We’ll see you in the morning.”

Judy squeezed Sera’s shoulder gently. “Don’t let the rice talk back.”

Sera grinned. “Only if the eggs start staging a coup.”

Laughter drifted in soft notes as Valerie and Judy made their way down the left hallway. The lights were low, the house quiet, the kind of quiet that only came when every voice under its roof was accounted for.

Inside their room, the record player had long since gone quiet. Judy sat on the edge of the bed, her eyes soft and searching as Valerie moved across the room to shut it off completely. The silence that followed wasn’t empty, it was reverent. A hush of something deeply understood, sacred in its stillness.

Valerie returned slowly. Judy turned toward her, a faint smile curving her lips as their fingers brushed then wove together. They climbed onto the bed not out of routine, not from exhaustion, but with intention. With a kind of grace that said this mattered.

Their palms pressed together, light as breath. Stillness bloomed between them, weightless but full. More honest than speech. More intimate than skin.

Then Valerie reached up, fingertips grazing the neural port beneath her left ear. A soft click. The subtle tone of activation. Judy mirrored her with quiet precision. No countdown, or instruction. Only trust.

The moment stretched.

The link opened.

Not a jolt. Not a surge. Just warmth a slow tide rising between them.

Valerie didn’t rush. She sent nothing at first. No images, or sensation. Just presence. A grounding pulse. The gentle impression of I’m here. You don’t have to be alone.

Judy’s exhale deepened, her shoulders softening. She let it in. Her own emotions stirred unfolding like petals touched by sunlight. She responded not with thought, but with feeling. An echo of safety. A bloom of affection so tender it trembled.

Then the sync deepened.

A slow unfolding of memory lit within Judy’s mind:

The scent of wet earth after a summer rain, Valerie’s hands steady as she wrapped a blanket around her shoulders. The sound of her laugh echoing across the rooftop the first time they watched the sun rise together. The soft flutter in her chest when she realized long before she could say it that this woman meant forever.

Valerie felt it ripple through her like light on water. Her heart thudded slowly and sure. Then she offered her own.

The image of Judy sitting cross-legged on the floor, chin resting in her palm as she watched Valerie write lyrics by candlelight. The sound of her voice whispering, “I feel safe with you,” breath warm against her neck. The quiet after their wedding, alone in their room, when the world went silent and their foreheads met two halves of something whole at last.

The relay didn’t overwhelm. It expanded. Each flicker of emotion built upon the last, looping into something larger, something that wrapped around them like a second heartbeat. Thought gave way to memory, and memory gave way to soul.

Judy leaned into Valerie, her forehead resting gently against hers. Eyes half-closed, voice low, like she was afraid to break the spell.

“Can you feel me?”

Valerie’s answer came on a breath, barely more than sound.

“Like you’re under my skin.”

Judy opened her eyes, gaze meeting hers in that soft pocket of forever. “You always said that.”

Valerie smiled, slow and steady. “I always meant it.”

Neither moved. Their hands remained clasped, pulses aligned not just by touch, but by choice. Nothing more was needed. Not tonight. Their hearts had already spoken.

They lay back together, slow and unhurried, eyes still locked. The gentle glow of their neural sync cast a faint shimmer across their joined forms, as if the light itself recognized the sanctity of what they shared.

In that space between memory and dream, they stayed connected in every way that mattered. No fear, or separation. Just the quiet rhythm of trust, steady and complete.

Valerie’s thumb brushed gently across Judy’s knuckles. Judy exhaled, a sound that trembled somewhere between peace and surrender. In the hush that followed in the hum of their bond and the warmth of the room they drifted into sleep.

They had achieved their forever, and always.

Chapter Text

The room had quieted long ago. The old record had stopped spinning, leaving behind only the soft whisper of the stylus in its groove before it, too, lifted and returned to rest.

Outside, the lake shimmered in the moonlight, unmoving, untouched. Wind brushed gently against the glass like it was asking permission to enter. Somewhere in the distance, a chime stirred, faint and forgettable.

Inside, their room was still blanketed in low light and the hum of shared sleep. But something tugged at the edges of Valerie’s mind. Not a sound, or a movement. Just a shift. A tension in the air that hadn’t been there before.

She stirred first.

Her lashes fluttered as her body woke without command, trained by years of restless instincts and the silent alarm of knowing when something was wrong.

The bio-monitor on Judy's wrist buzzed once.

Then again.

She sat up slowly, her senses sharpening, but not in panic. Something else. Something subtler.

Her eyes fell on Judy.

She was still lying on her back, her face tilted toward the ceiling. Her body, usually soft in sleep, loose and curled, was tense. Her fingers twitched faintly, and her breath came fast, too fast, shallow and sharp like she was chasing something that couldn’t be caught.

Valerie leaned in closer, and then she heard it.

“Don’t….Maiko, wait….don’t open that…Valerie?”

The sound of her own name made her chest tighten. Not because it was spoken, but because of how it was spoken. Like a question caught in the throat of a memory. Like she’d already disappeared.

Valerie’s hand was already moving, fingers gently brushing along the edge of Judy’s palm.

“Hey,” she whispered, voice low and steady. “It’s me. You’re okay, I’ve got you.”

Judy didn’t respond.

Her eyes didn’t open. But her brow furrowed. Her jaw tensed, and another whisper slipped out, this time more fragmented:

“Back room… the BD… I didn’t mean to…”

Valerie swallowed hard.

She knew this. The fractured lines. The dream-memories playing like corrupted data files. She remembered waking up like that herself after Mikoshi. Hearing Jackie’s laugh in one ear and Johnny’s scream in the other. Days when the world felt half-loaded. When time folded in on itself.

She didn’t hesitate.

Her fingers rose to the relay behind her ear, still warm from earlier. A soft click. The familiar hum of connection began to stir in her spine.

“Come on,” she whispered, reaching down to cradle Judy’s hand. “Let me in.”

Judy’s own relay flickered, almost involuntarily. A fragile pulse sparked to life a sync trying to form, sluggish and lagged. The tech wasn’t perfect yet. Neither was the moment.

Valerie didn’t push.

She leaned in with presence, not power. Sent nothing but calm through the relay.

I’m here. I’m with you. You’re safe. Come back.

The signal flickered once more.

Then connection.

Not clean, and clear.

Flickers came first snapshots, scattered like static in the back of Judy’s mind:

The cold corridor of Clouds. A BD shard slipping from her shaking hands.

Valerie, years younger, leaning against the balcony railing at dawn, backlit in gold.

The feeling of drowning in memory loops, spiraling without ground.

The soft hush of their wedding night, Valerie whispering, “Forever and always,” just before the lights dimmed.

Valerie breathed deep and even, letting every flicker settle.

She didn’t correct. She didn’t steer. She simply held with her body, with her mind, with the bond between them.

Judy gasped suddenly.

She shot upright like a diver breaking the surface, a sharp inhale chasing air she didn’t know she’d lost. Her eyes snapped open, but for a second, they were wide and distant. Like she didn’t know where she was.

Valerie caught her shoulders gently, instantly.

“Hey…hey, it’s okay. Look at me.” Her voice was low but full of weight. “You’re here. With me.”

Judy blinked several times, her gaze flickering around the room uncertain. Lost. Her breath came fast again, fingers trembling where they clutched the blanket.

“Is this… real?”

Valerie’s hand slid to the back of her neck, grounding. “Yeah. You’re home. You’re safe.”

“I…” Judy swallowed. Her voice cracked. “I saw you… after Mikoshi. When you were slipping. I saw your face. The way you looked at me, like you didn’t know where you were. And I…”

She broke off, voice folding in on itself. Her next words barely surfaced.

“I couldn’t reach you. I tried, Val. I tried so fucking hard.”

Valerie’s breath hitched, but she didn’t speak. Not right away. She just pulled Judy into her arms, holding her like something sacred. One arm around her back, the other still wrapped around her hand relay open, steady, true.

“I remember,” Valerie said quietly. “You sat next to me every night. You held me when I couldn’t speak. You whispered when I couldn’t respond.”

Her voice trembled now, but stayed calm.

“I remember thinking if I ever made it out, I’d never let you go through it alone.”

Judy pressed her forehead to Valerie’s shoulder. Her body still trembled, but it was softer now dampened by the calm cycling through the relay. Her construct’s storm was still there, but no longer steering.

“You kept me alive,” Valerie whispered. “Even when you couldn’t reach me, your love got through. That’s why I came back.”

She eased back just enough to cup Judy’s face, her thumb brushing just under her eye.

“Now let me do the same for you.”

Judy nodded, lips parted but voiceless.

Valerie leaned into the relay not flooding it, not forcing. Just anchoring.

She sent only calm, and shared breath. The soft memory of their first night home. The way Judy had looked at her while adjusting her monitor. The sound of Valerie’s voice saying “forever and always” under the warmth of a shared blanket.

Judy inhaled deep, like she could feel those memories settle into place. Her trembling slowed.

“You really think I’ll stabilize?” she asked softly.

Valerie smiled through her own tears. “I don’t think. I know. You’re not overwriting anything. You’re becoming more. Stronger. Clearer. You just need time to find your shape.”

Judy’s eyes shimmered. “And if I come apart before then?”

Valerie brushed her lips against her forehead.

“Then I’ll hold the pieces. All of them. Until you’re ready.”

They lay back together, slow and quiet, their forms a knot of presence and breath. The sync stayed open, not broadcasting, not syncing memory loops just holding. A line between hearts.

As the lake shimmered outside and the quiet of the night cradled them in return, they drifted toward sleep.

Not perfect, or painless, but together.
This time Judy wouldn’t have to endure alone.

Judy's breathing had finally evened out. Her head rested against Valerie’s shoulder, the sync still open between them a steady, unspoken thread of warmth, but her skin was clammy, her mouth dry. She winced quietly and shifted.

Valerie noticed instantly.

“You thirsty?” she murmured.

Judy nodded, too small to speak.

Valerie untangled herself gently, her hand never fully letting go as she moved from the bed. She padded across the room, bare feet soft against the hardwood. The pitcher on the nightstand was already beading with condensation. She poured slowly, letting the sound of water fill the space without breaking it.

She brought the glass back and kneeled beside the bed.

“Here,” she said gently, slipping an arm behind Judy’s shoulders to help her sit upright.

Judy took the glass with both hands shaky, but not uncontrolled. She drank slowly, eyes closed, lips parted as if even the water had to be relearned. Valerie watched her the entire time, not with worry, but with devotion, a kind of quiet awe reserved for someone who had nearly been lost to the dark.

When the glass was set back on the table, Judy sank back into the pillows, breath softer now. Valerie lay beside her, tucking a strand of sweat-damp hair behind her ear what little remained now as her body regrew from the inside out.

“You’re doing better already,” Valerie said, her voice low, almost reverent.

“I don’t feel like it,” Judy replied, her tone edged with self-disgust, but laced with exhaustion. “I feel… jagged. Like parts of me are misfiring.”

Valerie reached for her hand and brought it to her chest.

“Then we’ll rewire it together. Slowly. No pressure. Just presence.”

Judy didn’t answer immediately. Her eyes remained closed. But her fingers curled around Valerie’s.

“You remember,” Judy murmured, voice rasped, “the first night I sat beside you after Mikoshi? You didn’t say a word. Just stared out the window.”

“I remember,” Valerie whispered. “The moon was low. You kept bringing me tea and I wouldn’t touch it.”

Judy’s mouth curled faintly, the smallest hint of a smile.

“I didn’t know what else to do but stay.”

Valerie’s thumb brushed against hers.

“And now it’s my turn.”

They lay there in silence. No urgency. Just the soft rhythm of two people syncing beyond circuitry through breath, through skin, through shared survival.

Judy’s voice returned, quieter this time.

“Promise me something.”

“Anything.”

“If I ever glitch… forget what this is... don’t remind me all at once.”

Valerie’s brows furrowed gently. “What do you mean?”

Judy’s eyes opened, just a little. “Don’t flood me with the whole story. Just… remind me of the little things. Like this. Water. You holding my hand. The way you breathe when you're thinking.”

Valerie smiled softly. She leaned in and kissed Judy’s forehead, slow and steady.

“I can do that,” she said. “One heartbeat at a time.”

Judy’s shoulders finally eased not in triumph, not in resolution, but in quiet surrender.

Valerie stayed awake long after her wife drifted off, watching the soft rise and fall of her chest. The relay still glowed faintly in the dark. A line. A promise. A tether between now and the storms yet to come.

Whatever shape Judy took Valerie would be there to meet her in it.

Morning didn’t come in a blaze, it arrived slowly, like it didn’t want to disturb them.

The light pushed through the curtains in soft shafts, warming the hardwood floors and casting quiet golden halos along the bedspread. Dust drifted in slow spirals. Somewhere beyond the glass, gulls called out from the far side of the lake, their cries softened by distance and water.

Judy didn’t stir.

Her body lay curled slightly on her side, one hand resting where Valerie’s had been hours before. She slept deeper than she had in days, maybe weeks held there by the weight of the procedure, the sync, and the slow work of stabilization still humming in the background of her construct. The toll was subtle, but it had pulled her into a healing silence.

Valerie hadn’t moved much since.

She sat in the old armchair beside the bed, tucked near the window, barefoot and half-covered in a loose linen throw. Her elbows rested on her knees, her posture loose but her focus sharp. In her hands: a datapad, glowing dimly in the late morning light.

She hadn’t been able to sleep.

Not for lack of trying, but every time she closed her eyes, she saw Judy as she had been the night before: wide-eyed and spiraling, breath catching on memories that didn’t know where they belonged. That kind of fear didn’t just fade, it echoed.

Valerie exhaled softly, thumb scrolling up a few lines, rereading the half-finished lyrics on the pad.

The song had no name yet.

Just fragments. Images. Feelings she couldn’t voice aloud.

“Your hands were shaking like the stars before rain
But you held on like you always do
No lights, no anthem, just a whisper of pain
And me writing my way back to you.”

She paused, staring at the screen. Then tapped a few more words.

“If you forget who you are, I’ll sing it back.
If the mirror lies, I’ll be the reflection that stays.”

She stopped again, breath catching in her throat not from sadness, but something more sacred. A kind of reverence.

Because she realized something: Judy must’ve used up every ounce of her strength just to get through last night. The family dinner. The toasts. The laughter. Holding Sera’s hand. Smiling as Sandra joked about the new neural port. She’d looked beautiful and composed, but now, in hindsight, Valerie could see it for what it was:

A final push. A silent don’t let them see me drift yet.

Valerie blinked hard. Lowered the pad to her lap.

Her scalp was still smooth, untouched by time, untouched by dye. But the relay flickered faint signals beneath the surface, early markers of regeneration quietly mapping their return. Her natural brown roots would grow back in time. Color could come later. For now, she was simply healing.

Valerie reached out without thinking, her fingers ghosting across Judy’s temple. Not to touch what wasn’t there, but to honor what would be.

“You don’t have to be strong today,” she whispered. “You just have to rest.”

She leaned back into the chair, holding the pad again, but didn’t write. Not yet.

Instead, she looked out the window. Watched the lake ripple gently, light kissing its surface like it knew secrets too delicate to speak aloud.

Then, in a slow, quiet voice more breath than sound Valerie began to hum.

Not a finished melody. Not yet a song.

Just the rhythm of waiting.
The shape of love, and the sound of staying.

The datapad rested quietly on Valerie’s lap now, screen dimmed, the words unfinished but living.

Judy slept still scalp smooth against the pillow, her breathing soft, steady. The sync had long since gone dormant, but the connection lingered in the space, like a warmth that didn’t need light to stay alive.

Valerie leaned back in the chair. The sunlight had shifted since she first sat down, now stretching long across the floor. The lake glinted through the window, undisturbed.

Then softly, distantly a sound.

The front door eased open. Not slammed, not urgent. Just enough movement to stir the air down the hall. Valerie’s head turned instinctively. She rose silently, careful not to wake Judy, and stepped from the room.

The hallway felt longer in the morning quiet. Her bare feet made no sound on the cool reclaimed wood. At the end, near the front entry, she saw Sera, arm outstretched as she opened the door from across the hallway.

Sandra stood beside her, balancing two boxes still warm. Breakfast. The soft scent of cooked spice, sweet pastry, and something eggy carried toward her like a quiet promise.

Panam and Vicky stood just beyond them on the porch, both still in their jackets, dust from the drive faint on their boots. Their eyes met Valerie’s as she approached, and they didn’t have to ask.

“She’s still sleeping,” Valerie said softly, arms folded loosely across her chest.

Panam nodded. “We figured.”

“Didn’t want to crowd,” Vicky added, voice like low smoke. “Just wanted to be here.”

Sandra stepped aside so Valerie could reach them. She placed one hand gently on Valerie’s shoulder support, no question.

Sera gave a quiet smile, one corner of her mouth twitching with subtle emotion. “We brought enough food for the whole damn Clan.”

Valerie breathed out a tired, grateful laugh. “You always do.”

She stepped aside to let them in. The group moved into the kitchen Panam dropping her bag on the bench, Vicky unbuttoning her jacket in one smooth motion. Sera and Sandra started unpacking the boxes without a word.

The house slowly filled with soft sounds: the rustle of foil, the click of ceramic mugs, the low whir of the kettle. Nothing urgent. Just the present.

Valerie leaned against the counter, mug warming her hands, eyes heavy but clear.

“She had a moment last night,” she said quietly, voice meant only for those in this room. “Bad one. We kept the relay open after. It helped.”

Panam glanced over, brow tightening, but she didn’t flinch. “Sandra told us. Vicky and I saw the family photo from the dinner she looked… strong. But tired.”

“She was holding it together,” Valerie said. “That dinner probably drained every ounce she had.”

Vicky nodded, leaning against the edge of the kitchen table, arms crossed loosely. “It didn’t surprise us. This kind of step, this kind of tech not clean, even now. Even if you walk in clear, you’re going to come out… reshaped.”

Valerie looked down into her mug. “I was afraid she’d forget us. Forget herself.”

“She didn’t,” Sandra said gently.

“Because you were there,” Sera added. “Just like she was for you.”

Panam sipped her coffee, looking toward the hallway Judy slept beyond.

“She’s tough. But it’s not just that,” she said. “You two built something that doesn’t crack just because the brain needs time to catch up.”

She looked at Valerie now, sharp and steady.

“You didn’t lose her. And you won’t.”

Valerie nodded slowly, a breath catching somewhere in her chest. “Still… this morning, when she didn’t wake up right away, it hit me harder than I thought.”

“You’re carrying her now,” Vicky said, voice gentler than before. “She carried you once. Now it’s your turn.”

Silence fell for a moment, but not heavy. Just shared.

Then Panam pulled her datapad from her coat, tapping quickly before sliding it across the table.

“She’s gonna want this when she wakes up.”

Valerie glanced down.

It was the photo from the dinner Judy, Sera, Sandra, all grinning wide or laughing mid-bite. Valerie had her arm wrapped around Judy’s waist, forehead leaned in just enough to catch a kiss in progress. The kind of picture that said this is our life now.

She smiled. “She will.”

As the light poured through the windows and the warmth of the room took hold, they all settled in with coffee in hand, laughter soft, comfort passed between them like bread at the table.

The world outside could wait.

Here, in this moment, they were exactly where they needed to be.

The others had trickled out of the kitchen Sandra and Sera stepping out onto the porch with their mugs, Vicky heading to the back to call the camp and check in.

Only Panam and Valerie remained, seated at opposite ends of the dining table, a half-eaten almond pastry between them. The morning air was soft and still, the lake beyond the glass shimmering like it was holding its breath.

Panam sat back in her chair, boots crossed at the ankles. She watched Valerie for a long moment, her brow thoughtful but unreadable.

Then, simply, she asked:

“So you and Judy. Both of you are… engrams now. Right?”

Valerie’s jaw didn’t tighten, but her breath paused.

“You won’t age… if your shards stay in? You just… keep living. Choose life on your terms?”

Valerie met her eyes for a second. Didn’t speak right away.

Then she exhaled slowly, resting her hands flat on the table.

“After I get her through this.”

Panam nodded once, like she expected that answer. “Yeah. Figured that.”

She looked out the window, her voice quieter when she spoke again.

“We always joked about dying with sand in our boots. Dust on our teeth. But this? This is something else.”

Valerie’s gaze dropped to her coffee mug. The rim was faintly smudged with her lipstick matte pink, always faded by now.

“It’s not like some chrome dream. You don’t float. You feel everything. The decay. The drift. Like your body’s caught up, but your soul needs time to figure out what the hell you’ve become.”

“And Judy’s still in the middle of it.”

Panam leaned forward, elbows braced, her voice firm but steady.

“She’ll get through it. Especially with you watching her like that.”

Valerie gave a tired smile. “She did the same for me once. Back when I came back from Mikoshi. I didn’t know my name some mornings. Didn’t trust my own hands.”

Panam raised an eyebrow. “Does she ever flinch?”

Valerie shook her head. “Never.”

Panam leaned back again, chewing that over.

“So now it’s your turn.”

Valerie nodded.

Silence stretched for a moment between them.

Then Panam said, not quite softly, not quite harshly:

“You know what this means, right? You and Judy… you’ll outlive all of us. Sera. Sandra. Even that damn Wolfcat crew of yours.”

Valerie didn’t blink. “I know.”

Panam studied her. “That scares you?”

Valerie looked up slowly. Her voice was quiet, but steady as stone.

“The only thing that scares me is losing her. Again. Everything else…”
“…we’ll carry it.”

Panam’s eyes softened, her posture easing a little.

“You’ve always carried more than most. Even when you didn’t ask for it.”

Valerie smirked faintly. “You say that like you didn’t do the same.”

Panam’s grin cracked across her face. “Difference is, I bitched about it every step of the way.”

Valerie actually laughed. It wasn’t loud, but it was real. She leaned back in her chair, tension bleeding from her shoulders for the first time all morning.

Panam’s expression grew more serious again, but not heavy just true.

“You’re not losing us anytime soon. Ainara’s still sharp. Vicky’s still running circles around half the camp. Sera and Sandra? They’re just getting started.”

“But when the day comes, Val when you do start outliving people, I need you to remember this.”

Valerie looked over, brow raised.

“You don’t have to carry all that alone. Not just because Judy’s with you. But because we were too. And what you two gave us? That doesn’t disappear just ‘cause you keep going.”

Valerie stared at her for a long moment. Her throat tightened, but she nodded.

“Thank you.”

Panam reached across the table and tapped her knuckles lightly against Valerie’s.

“Always, Sister.”

For a moment, it wasn’t about tomorrow, forever, or outliving the ones they loved.

It was just two sisters in arms.

The screen door whispered shut behind them as Sera and Sandra stepped onto the porch, the morning air cool against their skin. The scent of breakfast still clung to their clothes, warm bread, spice, that hint of citrus Judy always loved.

Sera leaned against the railing, her hands wrapped around her mug, chipped from years of use. Her eyes fixed on the lake, unmoving.

Sandra sat on the porch swing, legs tucked beneath her, her own mug resting in both palms. She didn’t speak. She didn’t need to.

The silence between them wasn’t tense. It was knowing.

After a minute, Sera finally exhaled.

“She’s gonna be okay.”

Sandra looked up, her voice soft. “Yeah.”

“But it’s still hard to watch.”

Sandra nodded. “Because it’s her. Because it’s them.”

Sera took a long sip from her mug, eyes never leaving the water.

“I grew up watching them survive everything. Gunfire. Chrome burns. Scars you don’t talk about in daylight. But this…”

She paused, her throat working around the words.

“Watching her mind stutter like that. It doesn’t feel like something you can shoot your way out of.”

Sandra looked down into her drink. “You can’t. But Val found a way through.”

“Yeah.” Sera smiled faintly. “She always does.”

Another silence passed longer this time.

Then Sandra said, barely above a whisper:

“One day, we’re gonna lose them.”

Sera’s breath caught, but she didn’t flinch.

“I know.”

Sandra looked up. “Do you ever wonder what it’ll be like? When they’re still young and strong, and… we’re not?”

Sera’s fingers tightened around her mug.

“Yeah. I do. And it hurts.”

She swallowed. “But I also think… they’ll never stop loving us. Not even when we’re gray. Not even when we’re dust.”

Sandra’s eyes shone. “You sure?”

Sera turned toward her fully now, stepping close. She placed her mug down, cupped Sandra’s cheek in one freckled hand.

“Baby. My moms carved love out of hell. You think time scares them?”

Sandra laughed through her tears, leaning into the touch.

“Guess not.”

Sera kissed her softly, the kind of kiss that didn’t ask for anything they just gave.

When they parted, Sera pulled her close against her side, both of them gazing out over the water again.

“They taught us how to fight. How to love. How to stay.”

“So when the time comes, we’ll do the same.”

Sandra rested her head against Sera’s shoulder. “Together?”

Sera smiled. “Always.”

The porch creaked as the breeze picked up, wind rolling through the pines down by the edge of the lake. Inside, voices murmured. Laughter echoed faintly. The house was full, but for now, this moment belonged to them.

The inheritors.

The daughters of fire and resolve.

Quiet, steady, and waiting for the sun to rise just a little higher.

The voices in the kitchen faded behind her as Valerie stepped into the hallway, the mug still warm in her hands. She moved slow, barefoot and quiet, intending just to peek in on Judy. Not to wake her. Just to be close.

But halfway down the hall, her vision dipped.

The floor swayed.

Her hand shot out to the wall for balance, breath catching. A twitch ran through her left leg quick and involuntary, like static skipping through nerve endings.

Not again.

She gritted her teeth. Not from pain she’d learned to live with that, but from the embarrassment of it. The old flickers. The unsteady misfires. They’d started showing up more in the last few years. Just little things. Nothing serious.

Except now, with no sleep and too much weight on her shoulders, it made her stumble.

Footsteps behind her. Then a voice.

“Val.”

She turned, slower than she meant to.

Vicky stood there, arms crossed gently over her chest, but her eyes sharp with worry.

Valerie gave a half smile, tried to wave it off. “Just... lost my step.”

Vicky stepped closer, already reading past the words.

“You haven’t slept since yesterday.”

“I’m fine.”

Valerie leaned back against the wall, trying to make it casual. Her fingers twitched once at her side. She stilled them with a breath.

“They can’t get worse,” she added, quieter now. “The twitches. My body’s locked in now. I’m done aging. No more progression. Just... maintenance.”

Vicky didn’t soften. Not cruel. Just real.

“That doesn’t mean you're invincible, Valerie.”

She stepped closer, placing a hand over Valerie’s forearm steady and warm.

“You get to choose how you live now. That’s a gift. But what does it mean if you run yourself into the ground in the process?”

Valerie didn’t look up at first.

She just stood there, shoulders pressed to the wall, eyes dimmed with fatigue. Not just from last night. From everything. From years of being strong for others.

Then she whispered:

“You’re right.”

Her voice was hoarse. Real.

“We still have to protect each other.”

Vicky nodded, her grip firm but never forceful.

“Exactly.”

She slid an arm gently around Valerie’s waist.

“C’mon. Let me help you.”

Valerie didn’t argue this time.

She let Vicky guide her down the hall, slow steps, quiet ones. When they reached the bedroom, the door still cracked from earlier, Vicky helped ease her down into the chair by the bed.

Judy hadn’t stirred. She still slept, her body curled, her breathing soft and even. Her head was tilted toward Valerie’s side of the bed like she could feel her there, even in dreams.

Vicky knelt slightly, meeting Valerie’s gaze.

“You’re here now. Right where you need to be.”

Valerie blinked, her throat catching again.

Vicky reached up and brushed a bit of hair behind her ear, the same way Valerie had done for Judy hours before.

“Please rest. She’s going to need you even more when she wakes. And right now? You’re barely holding yourself together.”

“Let someone hold you for once.”

Valerie nodded faintly, words lost, but heart wide open.

She slid down from the chair, curling gently beside Judy on the edge of the bed, careful not to disturb her. The second her body touched the mattress, her limbs felt impossibly heavy.

Vicky pulled the blanket over her with practiced ease. No fuss, and no sound.

“Sleep, Sister,” she whispered. “We’ll hold the house.”

As Valerie’s breathing slowed beside her wife finally letting go Vicky stepped out, leaving the door cracked just enough for the morning light to watch over them.

Outside, the lake held still.
Inside, love held them both.

The porch out back faced the lake, open and wide beneath a softened sky. The morning had stretched on gently, the sun peeking past the treeline now, casting long strips of gold across the worn wood planks.

Sera sat on the top step, legs stretched out in front of her, still cradling her now-cold mug. Sandra was just behind her, arms resting on her knees, quiet but present her gaze flicking between Sera and the still, mirrored water beyond.

The door creaked gently as Panam stepped out, followed by Vicky, who carried two more mugs in one hand. She handed one to Sandra before lowering herself beside Sera with a soft grunt.

“How you holding up, kid?” Panam asked, her voice even.

Sera didn't answer right away. She just exhaled, eyes locked on the lake like she could find clarity in its calm.

“I’m not the one going through it,” she said finally. “They are.”

Vicky lowered herself beside Sandra, folding her legs beneath her, elbow resting against the railing.

“Doesn’t mean it’s not affecting you too.”

Sandra gave Sera a look that said the same, gentle but firm.

Panam leaned forward, forearms braced on her knees.

“We’ve been through a lot together. Me, your mom, and Val. I’ve seen them carry each other through hell and back. And now they’re in something no merc playbook prepares you for.”

She paused, watching Sera carefully.

“But I also know this ain’t just their fight anymore. It’s yours too.”

Sera nodded slowly, her fingers curling around the ceramic.

“I know.”

Vicky tilted her head.

“And how do you feel about it? Don’t tell me what we already know. Tell me what’s in that firepit of a heart you got.”

Sera gave a quiet laugh through her nose.

“I’m scared.”

The words came out softer than she meant.

“Not of them dying. I mean… yeah, that’s always been a fear, but this? Them living forever? Watching the rest of us age? Fade? That does something to you. Makes you ask questions you’re not ready to answer.”

She looked down at her lap, jaw tightening.

“They’re my moms. They’re supposed to grow old with me. Watch Sandra and I start a family someday. Fall asleep in rocking chairs, complain about back pain, yell at squirrels.”

Sandra smiled faintly at that but didn’t interrupt.

“And now they’ll always be… them. Strong. Sharp. Beautiful. Just like they are now.”

She swallowed.

“And one day I’ll wake up with gray hair and aching knees and they’ll still look like legends.”

Panam reached over, placing a hand over Sera’s shoulder.

“That’s not a bad thing, Sera. It’s a blessing. A hard one, yeah, but still a gift.”

Vicky chimed in, her voice low and steady.

“You know what forever means to someone like Judy? Or Val?”

Sera looked over.

“It means watching the world move on. It means losing things, slowly, piece by piece. That’s the cost.”

She leaned forward, her tone soft but unflinching.

“But it also means remembering every moment with you. It means staying so you don’t have to carry the world alone.”

Sandra finally spoke, reaching over to intertwine her fingers with Sera’s.

“They’re staying for us. Not to escape time, but to fill it with the people they love.”

Sera let that settle. Her shoulders eased slightly. The ache didn’t vanish, but it softened.

“I don’t want to lose them.”

Panam nodded. “You won’t. Not now. Not for a long damn time.”

“But when the day comes, Sera… they’ll be ready. And so will you.”

Vicky added quietly:

“Because they raised you for it. All of this. The love. The loss. The fire.”

Sera leaned into Sandra’s side now, resting her head gently against her shoulder.

“We’ll make the most of it. All of it.”

Panam smiled. “Damn right you will.”

Vicky reached over, squeezing her knee gently.

“You got the best parts of both of them in you.”

The four of them sat in silence after that, the sound of the lake and the distant rustle of trees wrapping around them like a quiet lullaby.

Inside, two legends lay sleeping unaware of the strength they’d already passed on.

The first thing Judy noticed was the warmth.

Not the kind that burned, but the kind that held. Soft, and close. A presence rather than a temperature.

Her eyes fluttered open, the light in the room soft and filtered through the curtains, gold and still. She blinked slowly. Once. Twice. Her limbs felt heavy, not weak, but anchored. Like her body had gone somewhere far and was only now returning.

Her head ached in that dull, humming way that came after too many hours of sleep, or a system reboot.

Then she felt it.

Valerie.

Curled beside her, one arm draped loosely over Judy’s waist, her face half-buried in the pillow, breath slow and deep. Her lips were parted slightly, the edge of her tattoo peeking out just below the blanket line. She looked… tired. Even in sleep.

Judy didn’t move right away.

She just looked at her.

Watched the small rise and fall of her chest. The freckle near her jaw. The way her red hair fanned over the pillow like a spill of rust and fire.

Her fingertips ached to reach. So she did lightly, gently brushing one knuckle along Valerie’s brow.

Valerie stirred, just enough to mumble, “Mmm… hey.”

Judy’s voice was hoarse, but soft. “Hey.”

Valerie blinked awake, slowly focusing on her. “You okay?”

Judy gave a faint smile. “Think so.”

She looked around the room like it might answer something for her. Then back at Valerie.

“How long was I out?”

Valerie reached for her hand, lacing their fingers. “Most of the day. You needed it.”

Judy closed her eyes again, just briefly, letting the words settle.

“Did I say anything weird?”

Valerie let out a soft chuckle. “You said ‘Maiko’ like you were pissed off in a dream. But… no. You mostly just trembled. Fought your way back.”

Judy sighed. “Figures.”

Valerie squeezed her hand. “But you did come back.”

They lay there for a beat, neither one moving.

Then Judy said:

“You didn’t leave.”

Valerie blinked. “Of course not.”

“No…I mean…” Judy opened her eyes again, looking up at the ceiling. “You stayed in the relay. I remember… I felt you. Not just your memories. You.”

Valerie’s voice was quiet, threaded with reverence. “That was the point.”

Judy turned to her now, their foreheads nearly touching. Her brown eyes searched Valerie’s emerald ones like they were the only stable ground left.

“It didn’t feel like tech. It felt like… music. Like you were humming to me in the dark.”

Valerie smiled softly. “Maybe it was both.”

Judy was quiet for a moment, then added:

“You’re the only reason I found my way back.”

Valerie’s thumb brushed her knuckles again.

“Then I’ll keep doing it. As many times as it takes.”

Judy let that promise sink in. Then, with a wry smile:

“So… do I look like hell?”

Valerie snorted. “No. You look like you survived the singularity and came out the other side still managing to be hot.”

Judy grinned, the first real one since she’d woken. “Sweet-talker.”

They lay there a little longer, the hum of the lake beyond the windows, the quiet creak of the house alive around them.

For the first time since the procedure, Judy didn’t feel like she was drowning in fragments.

She felt whole, not perfect, not finished, but real.

Judy turned her head slightly on the pillow, her smile lingering just beneath the surface.

Valerie leaned in slowly, brushing her lips to hers in the softest, most reverent kiss not urgent, not claiming. Just there. A touch of lips that said you’re back without needing the words.

When they parted, Valerie pressed her forehead lightly to Judy’s.

“Sera and Sandra are here,” she whispered. “So are Panam and Vicky. If you want company.”

Judy breathed in slowly, letting the warmth of that truth settle in her chest.

“They came all the way out here?”

Valerie nodded, her fingers tracing the curve of Judy’s wrist. “Didn’t hesitate.”

Judy swallowed gently, her voice low. “I don’t know if I’m ready to face them.”

“You don’t have to. Not until you’re ready.”

Judy’s lips twitched upward, but her eyes stayed soft. “Just knowing they’re close… that helps.”

Valerie kissed her again this time just above her brow, then pulled back with a faint smile of her own.

“You also inspired me to write something.”

Judy raised an eyebrow. “Yeah?”

Valerie nodded. “Wrote most of it watching you sleep like a stubborn rock.”

Judy chuckled softly. “Sounds about right.”

Valerie rested her head beside her on the pillow now, close but not crowding.

“When you're ready… I’d like to play it for you.”

Judy reached over and slid her fingers gently through Valerie’s hair, the touch light, almost reverent.

“Yeah, Val. I want to hear it.”

For a while, they stayed there like that forehead to forehead, hearts synced not by tech or trauma, but by choice. No need to rise. No need to speak more.

Outside, the porch murmured with familiar voices, laughter quiet, footsteps shifting, time passing slow.

Inside, two lives were still catching up with themselves.

But love? Love was already there, waiting.

The quiet stretched for a few more breaths, that sacred hush after shared vulnerability.

A faint scuff.

The gentle creak of the floorboards just beyond the doorway.

Valerie didn’t lift her head, but her eyes drifted toward the sound. She knew it instinctively.

Sera.

She hadn’t knocked. Hadn’t called out. But she was there just past the threshold, heart in hand, unsure if this moment still had space for her.

Judy blinked slowly, then turned her gaze toward the door.

“Sera?” Her voice was soft rasped from sleep but steady. “Is that you?”

There was a beat of silence.

Then a small voice, just barely above a whisper.

“Yeah… it’s me.”

Sera stepped into view slowly, her boots quiet on the old floorboards. Her red hair was slightly tousled from the breeze outside, freckles catching soft light. Her emerald eyes so much like Valerie’s were wide, searching, a little damp around the edges.

She stopped just short of the bed.

“Didn’t want to interrupt.”

Valerie sat up slightly, shifting to make room as she reached out a hand. “You’re not interrupting, Starshine.”

Sera hesitated, then crossed the final distance. She lowered herself onto the edge of the bed, opposite Valerie. Her eyes met Judy’s.

“You scared the hell out of me.”

Judy smiled faintly. “Yeah. Me too.”

Sera exhaled half a laugh, half a breath she’d been holding since the night before. She reached for Judy’s hand and wrapped it gently between hers.

“You look better than I expected.”

“Gee, thanks,” Judy smirked, squeezing her hand. “You always know how to flatter a girl.”

Valerie laughed under her breath, the tension finally softening in her shoulders.

Sera looked between them, then down at their hands, still joined.

“You’re both gonna be okay, right?”

Judy nodded slowly, her voice honest. “Yeah. I think we are.”

Valerie added, “We just need a little time. But we’re not going anywhere.”

Sera sat a moment longer in silence. Then leaned forward and kissed Judy’s temple, her touch delicate and reverent.

“Good. ‘Cause I still need my moms.”

Judy reached up, brushing some of her bangs from her face.

“And we still need you.”

Sera smiled, then sat back her posture relaxed now, grounded.

“Sandra made that spice bread you like. It’s still warm.”

Judy raised a brow. “She’s trying to bribe me back to the land of the living?”

“Nope. That was my idea.”

Valerie gave her a playful nudge. “Smooth, commander.”

Sera stood again, nodding toward the door. “Come out when you’re ready. No rush. We’re just glad you’re still here.”

She slipped back out, but not without one last look back, eyes full of love and a fierce, quiet pride.

Valerie leaned in closer to Judy once the door clicked gently shut.

“Told you. You’ve got a whole army ready to carry you through this.”

Judy, eyes still misty, nodded.

“Yeah,” she whispered. “And I’ve got you.”

Judy let her eyes fall closed for a moment, just feeling the weight of Sera’s hand still lingering in hers, the kiss to her temple still warm.

Then she felt it.

Valerie’s fingers brushing along her cheek, featherlight.

Her eyes fluttered open.

Valerie was looking at her, soft and sure, with that gentle twist to her smile that always carried warmth beneath the strength.

“They’ll understand if you’re not ready,” she said quietly, fingers still trailing just beneath Judy’s cheekbone. “No pressure.”

She paused, a playful edge slipping in.

“Still be a shame to waste that spice bread though. Could get some of that Centzon tequila too.”

Judy’s lips curved. A real smile now, worn but alive.

“You trying to lure me out with carbs and liquor?”

Valerie’s brows lifted. “Is it working?”

Judy chuckled under her breath. “A little.”

Valerie leaned her forehead lightly to hers again, eyes steady, voice low.

“I can bring some to you… or we can walk out there together.”

She reached down and took Judy’s hand again, lacing their fingers with deliberate tenderness.

“Either way, I’m here for you, Jude.”

Judy looked at her for a long moment, her eyes shining not from pain, not this time, but from love. The kind that didn't ask her to rush. The kind that said: you’re still you, even if you’re still finding your shape.

She gave a soft sigh.

“Let’s walk.”

Valerie blinked, then smiled wider. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. Just… maybe slow.”

Valerie lifted their joined hands and pressed a kiss to the back of Judy’s fingers.

“Always.”

She slid out of bed gently, helping Judy sit up, steady and unhurried. The light from the window fell across them both now Valerie’s red hair catching gold, Judy’s bare scalp kissed by warmth.

Outside, there was laughter. Familiar voices. The smell of spice and sun.

Inside, two souls stood up together, and took their first steps into the day.

The hallway stretched before them, sun filtering in through the skylight above, dust hanging in soft halos.

Judy walked slowly, one hand holding Valerie’s, the other resting lightly against the wall now and then to keep her balance. Her body still felt strange, not wrong, just… recalibrating. As if her nerves and muscles were learning how to be again in this new version of herself.

Every step came easier with Valerie beside her.

As they neared the living room, voices filtered through muffled laughter, the sound of plates being shifted, Sandra’s soft murmur, and Panam’s more familiar sarcasm cutting through the air.

No tension. Just the rhythm of a home full of people who knew how to wait.

Valerie looked over at Judy. “You good?”

Judy gave a faint nod. “Let’s do this.”

They stepped around the corner together.

The room quieted almost instantly not from shock or overreaction, but out of respect. The kind you give someone who’s just come back from something hard. Who’s still finding their feet.

Sera was the first to smile.

She stood near the couch with Sandra at her side, nudging her wife gently. “Told you she’d come out.”

Sandra grinned. “You said maybe.”

Sera rolled her eyes. “Yeah. But I meant definitely.”

Panam looked up from where she was perched on the arm of a chair, her voice teasing but warm. “Took you long enough. We were about to eat all the spice bread.”

Judy smirked. “Rude.”

Vicky rose from the hearth, motioning toward the armchair by the window, where a plate and glass sat waiting. “We saved you the best seat.”

Valerie helped guide her there, and Judy sat slowly, letting her breath settle. A second later, a warm plate was passed into her lap. Spice bread, scrambled tofu, a few slices of glazed fruit. Familiar, and comforting.

Sandra handed her a glass. “Centzon. Only one, though.”

Judy raised it lightly in salute. “Not complaining.”

Valerie stayed close, sitting on the edge of the coffee table nearby, one hand still resting on Judy’s knee. She didn’t speak much, just stayed present, her eyes never far.

The room slowly began to move again, conversation picking up, Sandra asking Vicky about road repairs, Sera nudging Panam with some teasing remarks about old boots and age. It was soft. Domestic, and alive.

And Judy?

She didn’t say much at first. She just watched.

The way Sera leaned into Sandra when she laughed. The way Panam kept stealing bites off Vicky’s plate when she thought no one was looking. The way the light caught in Valerie’s hair, making it glow just slightly like it had the night they first kissed under streetlamps that buzzed like broken neon.

This is still mine, she thought.
I’m still here.

She reached for Valerie’s hand again, and this time, it wasn’t out of fear.

It was simply because she could.

Judy had just finished the last bite of her spice bread, cheeks faintly flushed from the Centzon and the warmth of being surrounded. She leaned back into the chair, legs curled beneath her, letting the conversation swirl around her like a soft breeze.

Valerie leaned in slightly, her fingers brushing across Judy’s hand where it rested on the armrest.

“Ready to hear the song?”

Judy’s eyes lit up. She tilted her head, smiling. “Love to hear it, mi amor.”

Valerie kissed her hand once, then turned toward the couch.

“Sera? Think you can boot up the relay projector?”

Sera, already halfway through a playful debate with Sandra over music taste, perked up. “Absolutely.”

She moved to the wall panel and tapped in a sequence of soft whirring followed as the living room’s ceiling-mounted projector hummed to life. A faint shimmer glowed against the wall above the hearth, waiting for signal.

Valerie disappeared down the hall briefly.

The house was still.

When she returned, she carried her acoustic guitar, the one with worn wood and familiar finger grooves. She wore no stage persona, no performer’s grin. Just bare feet, soft eyes, and the quiet gravity of a woman about to lay her heart open.

Valerie sat on the edge of the coffee table, her acoustic guitar resting across her lap like a second heartbeat.

Judy sat curled on the couch, knees pulled in, blanket loosely around her shoulders. Her eyes were steady, but shadowed. That same flicker had returned since the conversation earlier.

“Val…” she asked softly.
“What if I lose it? What if I forget the feeling behind the memory? What if I forget us?”

Valerie didn’t answer with words.

She reached behind her ear as the relay activated.

Judy nodded, her fingers already trembling as she mirrored the motion. The sync bloomed gently between them. Not sharp. Not overwhelming. Just presence.

Valerie rested her hand on the strings, then began.

No warmup, or breathy setup.
Just a voice like a promise being remade in real time.

“Even if my voice fades someday…”

A quiet pulse passed through the relay
Judy holding Valerie after her second surgery, when speaking still hurt.
Her thumb brushing Valerie’s lips. No words needed. Just breath.

“If the songs I sang drift away…”

The BD flashed dimly behind Judy’s eyes
A memory of Valerie on the porch, lips moving silently, forgetting the lyrics halfway through.
Judy had reached out, humming the missing line. Now she smiled faintly, eyes wet.

“If my hands forget the chords we knew…
Will you still be here, just holding me too?”

Valerie let the chord hang.
In the sync, she pushed an image gently to Judy:
Judy’s hands trembling during her first BD cut post-procedure, and Valerie’s steady fingers covering them.
A message passed like static over warmth:
We’ve already done this, love. And we’re still here.

“Even if the memories blur…
If my hands shake when I reach for her…”

Judy flinched.
That was now. That was real.
Her body shook as if the line had pierced something she didn’t know was open.
“I’m scared, Val,” she whispered aloud. “I don’t want to lose you.”

“If I lose my way or start again…
Will you remind me how we began?”

Valerie looked up with tears in her eyes too now.
She didn’t need the screen.
Just the memory she fed through the relay:
Lizzie’s bar. That hallway. A stolen beer. One laugh.
Judy’s sob was soft, but full. She whispered, “I remember. I do.”

“You said it once…
You didn’t need a song…
Just skin and warmth…
Just where we belong.”

A pulse of heat through the sync.
Judy lying in bed post-surgery, Valerie’s hand in hers, her thumb tracing her cheekbone all night long.

“Don’t need the chords, don’t need the rhyme…
Just your voice saying, “we’ve got time.”

Valerie’s voice cracked just barely.
Not from weakness.
From love.

Judy whispered, barely audible:

“Say it again.”

Valerie paused. Met her eyes.

“We’ve got time.”

Judy let out a trembling breath, like she’d been underwater too long and had just surfaced.

“When the world forgets what we became…
You’ll still be here, whispering my name…”

A faint ripple Judy waking up alone once, calling for Valerie.
Valerie came in half-asleep, whispering her name like a prayer.
That memory wrapped around Judy’s heart like a shield now.

“Even if… I start to slip…
You’ll still be mine…
And I’m still yours to miss.”

The last chord fell away like a breath. Not silence just completion.

Judy sat frozen, her eyes brimming.

“You wrote that… because of what I said,” she murmured.

Valerie set the guitar aside.

“I wrote it because I meant it. Every line. Every flicker. Even if it all goes… I’ll carry it for you.”

Judy didn’t speak.

She just opened her arms.

Valerie moved to her without hesitation, crawling onto the couch, letting Judy wrap herself around her like a lifeline.

Their foreheads pressed together.

The relay was still open.

No projections, or lyrics now.

Just her name.

Whispered once more in love’s native language. “Judy.”

Valerie’s hand rested on the back of Judy’s head, her thumb brushing slow, grounding circles. Judy’s face remained tucked against her collarbone, eyes closed, her body warm and trembling with the aftermath of everything she had just felt.

The others didn’t interrupt.

Sera sat quietly on the loveseat, leaning slightly into Sandra’s side. Her arms were folded loosely across her stomach, her expression unreadable but full. Sandra watched Judy for a long moment, then gave Sera’s hand a squeeze. No words passed between them.

Panam leaned forward in her chair, forearms resting on her knees. Her jaw worked like she wanted to speak but wasn’t sure if it would come out steady.

Vicky stood nearby, still close from when she had helped Valerie earlier. She hadn’t sat back down after setting the glass of water on the table beside them. Her hand rested gently on Valerie’s back, fingers light, letting her feel the support without being pulled away from the moment.

Judy finally spoke, her voice low and rough with emotion.

“I didn’t know it could feel like that… not through the relay. Not so much at once.”

Valerie didn’t move, just answered quietly. “I didn’t want to show you the whole world. Just the parts that are ours.”

Sera shifted slightly on the loveseat. “That song…” She trailed off for a second before continuing, more composed. “It felt like you built a memory out of everything I’ve seen you two live through. And everything I missed before I came along.”

Sandra gave her a small smile and rested her head against her shoulder.

“It wasn’t just about remembering,” Vicky said softly, stepping around to pour herself a glass of water. “It was about reminding. And Judy if there’s ever a time you need that again, we’ll be here. Not just Valerie. All of us.”

Judy looked at her, then at each of them one by one. Her expression was tired, but softer now. “I didn’t know I needed to hear it until I did.”

Panam finally spoke from where she sat. “Sometimes we don’t. Not until we’re halfway through and it hits you in the chest.”

A beat passed. She cleared her throat, trying to keep her voice even.

“I’ve seen a lot of people get lost in memory tech. Spiraling. Hollowed out. That wasn’t that.” She looked at Valerie. “That was solid. Real. Grounded.”

Judy shifted just enough to glance up at Valerie. Her hand found hers again, lacing fingers tightly. “You made me feel like I was still… me.”

Valerie gave her a tired smile, brushing her thumb over the back of her knuckles. “That’s all I ever wanted.”

They didn’t need to say anything more for a while. The house stayed quiet, the hum of the lake outside filtering in through the windows. There was no rush to fill the silence.

Just the presence of people who had come through the fire and were still here, still holding each other steady.

Panam shifted in her seat, casting a glance toward the windows. The light outside had dimmed to that last soft stage before dusk when shadows stretched longer, and the lake caught the color of the sky like it didn’t want to give it back.

She leaned back slightly and cleared her throat, not loud but with purpose. The kind of sound that said we love you, but the day’s done.

“Alright,” she murmured, tone even, “we should let you two rest.”

Valerie looked up, one arm still around Judy. Her hand hadn’t left hers.

Judy blinked slowly, then gave a faint nod, her voice soft but steady. “Yeah… it’s been a lot.”

Vicky was already on her feet, gathering their mugs from the table. “We'll swing by again tomorrow. Just check in. No pressure.”

Panam stood as well, stretching her back with a quiet groan before smoothing down her jacket. She looked at Judy, then at Valerie.

“You don’t have to bounce back tonight,” she said. “Or tomorrow. Just be where you are.”

Valerie gave her a tired smile. “Right now, that’s here.”

Sera rose next, gently pulling Sandra with her. She walked over and leaned down, pressing a kiss to Judy’s cheek and whispering, “You were incredible.”

Judy’s eyes shimmered. “Couldn’t have done any of this without you all.”

Sandra squeezed her shoulder. “You don’t have to do any of it alone.”

Valerie looked at the two of them. “Thanks for bringing the food earlier. We’ll finish the rest tomorrow.”

Sera grinned. “As long as you save me some of that spice bread.”

“You’re not sneaking more tequila when we’re not looking,” Panam said as she passed her with a smirk.

Sera raised her hands in mock innocence, “You think I’d waste it?”

Vicky gave Valerie a soft pat on the shoulder as she passed. “Get some real sleep tonight. That goes for both of you.”

Valerie nodded. “We will. Promise.”

Panam stood by the door now, one hand resting on the knob. She looked back, her gaze lingering.

“We’re around,” she said simply. “Always.”

Then the door opened with a soft creak, and the cool evening air slipped in just long enough to remind them how still the house had become.

Then they were gone.

Just Valerie and Judy again.

The quiet was different now earned.

The house was still.

Judy and Valerie hadn’t moved from the couch, curled together beneath the low light of the living room. The others were gone now, their warmth still lingering in the quiet space they left behind.

Valerie’s fingers moved in slow patterns across Judy’s arm, her touch gentle, thoughtful. She traced the rose tattoo inked into her forearm.

That’s when she noticed it.

The faint glint of red gathering in the corner of Judy’s dark brown eyes.

A sharp memory surfaced of her recovery days. Judy curled against her, voice rough as she explained, “That red tint? It’s a warning. I can feel it coming.”

Valerie didn’t hesitate.

She tightened her hold around her, drawing Judy in as the tremble began. The shift was subtle at first small twitches, a hitch in her breath. Then the flickers started. Judy’s head jerked slightly, her lips parting as names and broken fragments spilled from her mouth in whispers:

“Sera… please… are… stay…”

“Shh,” Valerie breathed, already reaching for the relay port behind her ear. The moment it clicked active, she slid into the sync.

The digital space was cold.

Empty in the way only relic voids could be silent, hollow, alive with nothing.

Valerie stood alone inside the fractured gray-white static, her boots clicking faintly on a floor that didn’t exist. Memory echoes fluttered and vanished like smoke without heat. No sign of Judy. Just the weight of absence.

She stood still.

“Jude? Judy? Can you hear me?”

Her voice echoed. Faded. Nothing answered.

She closed her eyes, grounding herself in their bond.

“I’ll find you, babe.”

Silence answered, but Valerie didn’t wait for permission. She reached inward, drawing from the one thing Judy had always trusted more than the tech their memories.

“Even if I have to ask you to marry me again.”

The void shifted.

The world shimmered, and suddenly the emptiness gave way to soft gold and white.

Not their first wedding, but the second. The one Sera had thrown for them when she was twelve. BD echoes of laughter, soft music, a sunny day under cloth canopies. Not Valerie and Judy, but Sera beaming in her matching bridesmaid dress, clutching a handmade bouquet, her eyes shining with pride.

“Even if I have to rebuild your world with my bare hands.”

The scene changed again.

Memory reshaped the space wood beams and solder sparks. The lakehouse being rebuilt after the siege. Valerie handing tools. Judy wiping sweat from her brow. A thirteen-year-old Sera hammering in the last nail on a wooden sign that read:

The Alvarez: Unrelenting. Unyielding. Unbroken.

“Even if we can’t always be there.”

The color cooled.

A med center hallway. Quiet. Sterile. Twenty old Sera lying in a padded bed, bandaged but breathing. Judy beside her, unmoving, her hand on Sera’s arm, eyes locked with the kind of fear only a mother carries. Valerie was just behind, standing guard like a wall of silence.

“Even if the worst happens… she’ll always tell you how much she loved you.”

The scene flickered faster now memories layering:

“Love you, Mama.”
“Thanks for helping me, Mama.”
“You always be my Mama.”
“Always love you.”

Each voice was older. Each tone was more certain.

They weren’t fragments anymore. They were anchors.

From the fragments, Judy began to form.

Like data stitching into shape, her body digitized in pulses of light. First her hands, then her arms, her face forming in clean, stable lines. She stepped forward no longer lost.

She cupped Valerie’s cheek with both hands, her voice soft, full of clarity.

“Even if it’s just me and you… we’ll always have her.”

Valerie nodded, breath shaky. She didn’t need to speak.

The relay flickered once more, and disconnected.

Back in the living room, Judy had stilled.

No more trembling. No more whispers. She lay curled against Valerie’s chest now, her breath even, her eyes closed. Sleep had taken her.

Valerie stayed still for a moment, then pulled the soft blanket from the back of the couch, draping it gently over them both. She kissed Judy’s temple, her lips lingering there.

“I remember when you told me... even if this is our last ride, we’d always ride it together.”

Her voice was barely a whisper, just for them.

She rested her head against Judy’s and closed her eyes, her arms wrapped tight.

The lake outside was dark now, but the house held warmth.

Valerie finally slept too.

The morning air was soft and cool, touched by the early sunlight slanting through the pine. It pressed lightly against the windows, casting pale gold shapes across the floor, up the couch where Valerie stirred. She blinked against the brightness, lashes flickering as she reached instinctively toward the body that should’ve been curled into her.

There was only warmth where Judy had been. Not presence.

Valerie sat up, heart skipping not in panic, but alert. She called out.

“Hey Jude, everything okay?”

Silence.

She stood slowly, stretching out the stiffness in her joints, her eyes scanning the house as she listened. No movement inside. But outside… she heard it.

The back porch swing. Swaying slow. Hinges giving the faintest creak, like breath on old wood.

Valerie stepped through the kitchen and opened the back door, the scent of morning pine and lake mist rising to greet her. She turned her head left.

There she was.

Judy sat alone on the swing, her shaved head catching the pale morning light, eyes fixed out over the water. The gentle motion of the swing mirrored the slow rhythm of her breathing, like she was matching her pulse to the lake itself.

Valerie didn’t call out. She just walked over and sat beside her.

Judy turned slightly, offering a soft smile.

“I can see why you always needed the air.”

Valerie mirrored the smile, tired but full of affection. “At least the Oregon air smells better.”

Judy let out a small laugh, the sound light. But Valerie knew her too well. That laugh carried weight.

She reached over, took Judy’s hand, and squeezed it gently.

“Talk to me, babe.”

Judy leaned into her, her shoulder resting against Valerie’s, the swing continuing its lazy arc beneath them.

“We’ve been together for so many years,” she said, voice low. “And I thought I understood everything about you. About what you went through. But now… after last night... I finally felt what you felt back then. That stillness. That void.”

Her voice faltered. “I didn’t think it would get to me the way it did. But it was… empty. Cold. Like I didn’t even belong to myself anymore. How did you live like this, Val?”

Valerie turned toward her, one hand rising instinctively to caress the top of Judy’s head. Even without hair there, even with the rawness of regrowth beneath her fingertips, it felt like Judy. Always Judy.

“That’s life, Jude,” Valerie said softly. “Not the living.”

Judy looked up at her.

Valerie’s thumb swept gently just under her eye.

“Living was waking up to your voice. Living was feeling your hand on my back at night. You… treating me like I was still me, even when I couldn’t feel it myself. You never saw code. Never saw a copy. You saw me. And that’s what kept me from breaking.”

Judy didn’t answer right away. She let her hand slide across Valerie’s chest instead, fingers moving over her tattoos, pausing then tracing a line down her left forearm, the rose with their names the script written Forever & Always.

She traced the ink slowly, her voice quiet.

“I kept thinking last night... what if I had lost myself in that space? What if I hadn’t come back? Would I still be me?”

Valerie leaned her head gently against Judy’s.

“You never left, Jude. You just needed a path back. And I’ll always find you. However long it takes. However many memories I need to walk through.”

Judy closed her eyes. “I felt Sera in there. Her voice. Her love. Like it was stitched into my mind.”

“Because it is,” Valerie said. “We built a life. Layer by layer. It’s not just code anymore. It’s memories. It’s soul.”

Judy’s hand paused again tracing back to Valerie’s chest. “Is that what you meant, when you told me we had time?”

Valerie turned, pressing her lips gently to Judy’s temple.

“I meant we don’t have to race against the world anymore. Not our bodies. Not the clock. Just us. You and me, and everyone we love for however long they’re with us.”

The swing rocked slowly, the creak soft and steady beneath them. The lake shimmered in the morning light, the world still gentle in its waking.

Judy tilted her head and kissed Valerie’s shoulder. “I’m still scared.”

Valerie didn’t flinch. “So was I. Still am, sometimes. But not of losing myself. Not anymore.”

She looked out over the water, then back to Judy.

“What scares me now is not showing you what living looks like every day. Because now… now you know what surviving feels like. But babe, you’re not just surviving anymore. You’re here. You came back.”

Judy leaned in, forehead pressing to Valerie’s.

“I did.”

They stayed there on the swing, not rushing, not filling the space with anything more than what needed to be said.

The wind moved through the trees like a breath let go.

Valerie whispered. “I love you”

Judy didn’t answer, just leaned in closer. Her breath settled against Valerie’s neck, warm and steady now. That alone felt like a small miracle.

Valerie held her for a while longer before brushing a kiss to her temple and pulling back just enough to speak.

“Alright, babe,” she murmured, “you’ve had the existential dread, now how about some juice?”

Judy raised an eyebrow. “Juice?”

Valerie stood, stretching with a soft wince in her side. “Yes, juice. The cure for all neural trauma. Maybe some leftover spice bread too, if Sera didn’t sneak the last piece.”

Judy smirked, sitting back against the swing. “You’re trying to bribe me with carbs and citrus.”

Valerie grinned over her shoulder as she stepped toward the door. “Is it working?”

“...Yeah.”

Inside, the kitchen still smelled faintly of last night’s dinner and the lavender oil Vicky had dabbed in the air vents. Valerie moved on muscle memory alone a cup from the top shelf, the glass pitcher Sera had stocked with orange-strawberry blend in the fridge. She poured slowly, careful not to spill. Judy always teased her for not paying attention when she was tired.

She spotted the last two thick slices of the spice bread wrapped in foil beside the toaster and smiled. One had a small bite missing from the corner.

“Definitely Sera,” she muttered. “Couldn’t even wait.”

She warmed both slices, plated them, and carried everything back out carefully. Judy was still on the swing, her arms wrapped lightly around herself now, the breeze teasing at the edge of the blanket draped over her legs.

Valerie nudged her shoulder as she handed over the plate.

“Breakfast of champions. Or very emotionally exhausted legends.”

Judy took it with both hands, eyes flicking down to the warm bread. “You know, you keep feeding me like this, I’m never leaving this swing.”

Valerie slid back in beside her, handing her the juice. “I’d chain it to the deck if I thought you’d stay put.”

Judy took a sip, then another, making a soft hum of satisfaction. “God… that’s good.”

Valerie bumped her shoulder. “Told you. You may be technically post-biological, but that doesn’t mean your blood sugar gets a pass.”

Judy tore off a piece of bread, letting it linger in her fingers before eating it. “Still tastes like home.”

Valerie reached over and tucked a fold of the blanket back around her.

“It is.”

They sat there in the quiet for a while, sharing pieces of bread between sips of juice. Judy’s hand found Valerie’s under the blanket. The swing creaked gently, rocking just enough to match the rhythm of their breathing.

Eventually, Judy leaned her head back on Valerie’s shoulder and whispered, “Thank you.”

Valerie turned slightly, her voice low.
“For what?”

Judy's eyes flickered. “For not letting me drift.”

Valerie brought their joined hands to her lips, kissed her knuckles. “I never will.”

The last of the spice bread was gone, and the juice nearly finished. Judy’s legs were curled up on the swing now, her shoulder still resting against Valerie’s chest. The air was warming slightly, but the pine-sweet breeze kept it crisp. It felt like the world was giving them a slower hour on purpose.

Valerie brushed a hand along Judy’s back, her thumb following the curve of her spine before letting her fingers rest gently over her ribs.

“I bet Ainara’s been worried sick about you.”

Judy tilted her head up slightly. “You think so?”

Valerie gave her a look. “She’s called twice. I told her you were sleeping, but you know that woman’s probably pacing her porch.”

Judy stretched slowly, groaning at the tightness in her back. “Talking to Grams always helps.”

Valerie reached for her holophone that had fallen tucked inside the swing cushion, tapping the holo call open and resting it between them.

Within seconds, Ainara’s face appeared, warm brown eyes immediately scanning the frame.

“Mi cielo,” she breathed. “Dios mío, you gave me a scare.”

Judy smiled, a little sheepish but genuinely touched. “I’m okay, Grams. Just… needed some time.”

“Mmm,” Ainara muttered, clearly not convinced. “You look pale. Are you eating?”

Valerie leaned into the frame. “She had juice. And the last of Sera’s spice bread.”

“Ah. That’ll do,” Ainara nodded, softening. “As long as she’s not skipping meals and thinking I won’t find out.”

Judy chuckled. “You always do.”

Ainara’s voice gentled. “I’m glad you’re still here, mija. The world would’ve been quieter without you.”

The call lasted a few more minutes. Ainara gave her blessing, offered to bring soup later. Valerie swore they had food already, and made Judy promise to rest again after they hung up.

When the call closed, the porch felt lighter. Judy sighed, her eyes still a little damp from the warmth of it.

“Vanessa and Jennifer haven’t heard from me either.”

Valerie blinked, then tilted her head. “I think you mean Vanessa and Jessica, babe.”

Judy let out a laugh, covering her face. “Oh my god. Right. Jessica. Not Jennifer.”

Valerie grinned. “You just invented her a new girlfriend.”

“Could you imagine? Jessica would throw a fit.”

Valerie nudged her playfully. “They’ll love hearing from you. Even if you call them the wrong names.”

Judy sighed again, but this time with a hint of a smile. “I missed this… laughing at myself. Feeling normal.”

Valerie squeezed her hand. “Then let’s keep doing it. One call at a time.”

Valerie tilted the holophone back as they settled deeper into the porch swing, the breeze still carrying the scent of pine and morning dew. Judy hesitated for a second, thumb hovering over the contact list.

“You sure I’m not interrupting anything?”

Valerie leaned in with a small smile. “You agreed to come back with a glowing brain chip, babe. You get to interrupt whatever you want.”

Judy smirked and shook her head, tapping the screen.

The call rang twice before Jessica appeared, her white fennec-augmented ears flicking slightly as the background lights of Wildest Dreams pulsed behind her.

“Oh thank fuck,” Jessica breathed immediately, her voice thick with emotion. “You look like shit, but you’re alive.”

“Charming as always Jennifer,” Judy said with a smirk.

Just off-screen, Vanessa’s voice chimed in: “Move, Jess, I want to see her.”

Jessica rolled her eyes and shifted just enough for Vanessa to step into frame. Her dark hair was tied back, tucked behind her wolf-like ears. Her yellow eyes softened the moment she saw Judy.

“There you are,” she said quietly. “We’ve been worried.”

“I’m okay. I mean… mostly. Still glitchy, but I’m getting there.”

Valerie popped into the corner of the frame, leaning over Judy’s shoulder. “She’s being modest. Held her sync through a memory storm last night and still managed to steal the last slice of spice bread.”

Jessica snorted. “That’s our girl.”

Vanessa folded her arms, gaze narrowing slightly with affection. “Do you need anything? Want us to swing by?”

Judy shook her head. “Not yet. Just wanted to hear your voices. Let you know I’m still me.”

“You don’t have to prove that,” Vanessa said.

“Yeah,” Jessica added. “You could’ve called me Jennifer and I’d still have cried.”

Judy blinked. Valerie covered her face, laughing.

“Oh my god, Jess…”

“What?” Jessica blinked innocently. “Didn’t she?”

Judy groaned. “Apparently I did.”

“Don’t worry,” Vanessa said dryly. “If you ever call me Jessica, I’ll just assume you’re rebooting.”

Judy smiled, wide and real now. “I love you two. Seriously.”

Jessica tilted her head, her eyes bright. “Back at you, Judy.”

Vanessa nodded. “Call again soon. Or better when you’re up to it, come see us. We’ll make something feel normal again.”

Judy met Valerie’s gaze. “Yeah. I’d like that.”

They ended the call a moment later, the screen fading to black, but not the warmth it left behind.

Valerie brushed her hand over Judy’s.

“So… Jennifer, huh?”

Judy groaned again and buried her face against Valerie’s side.

“I’m never living that down, am I?”

Valerie laughed. “Not a chance.”

The porch swing had long gone still, the warmth of the late morning giving way to a gentle, amber-washed afternoon. A quiet lull held the house around them peaceful, steady.

Judy was still laughing softly, tucked into Valerie’s side as they sat close.

“I missed this, Evelyn.”

Valerie stilled for a beat.

She turned slowly, one eyebrow rising as she placed the back of her hand against Judy’s forehead.

“You feeling alright?”

Judy blinked, then covered her face with a groan. “Shit. I said that out loud, didn’t I?”

“Loud enough.”

Judy pulled her hands down and gave her an apologetic smile, sheepish but sincere.

“Sorry, mi amor. My mind’s still a little scrambled. It keeps pulling old threads… fragments. Evelyn, Maiko, the old crew... it’s like they’re all floating near the surface.”

Valerie just gave her a soft nod, her smile unwavering. “You’re rebuilding. Happens to the best of us.”

She stood then, offering her hand. “Come on. Let’s go for a walk around the lake. Might help clear your mind.”

Judy reached up and took it, her grip steady despite the faint twitch in her fingers. Valerie helped her up gently, wrapping an arm around her waist as they stepped off the porch together.

The afternoon light glinted off the lake, casting flickers of gold and green across the surface. Pine needles crunched softly beneath their boots as they followed the narrow trail that wound along the shore.

They didn’t speak at first.

The silence wasn’t heavy, it was lived-in. Every few steps, Judy’s gaze would drift to the water, or the sky, or the way the breeze bent the trees in slow, sweeping arcs. The world felt quieter out here. Easier to breathe.

Valerie broke the silence first, her voice casual, teasing. “So, how many more ex-names should I be ready for?”

Judy let out a groan. “God, don’t jinx it.”

Valerie laughed. “Just checking if I need to start calling you Gloria or something.”

Judy laughed. “You do that, and I’m blaming the chip.”

They walked a little further, hands brushing occasionally, sometimes linked.

Judy eventually spoke again, this time quieter. “It’s strange… I know who I am. But it’s like parts of me are out of order. Like my memories got shuffled in the wrong stack.”

Valerie nodded, her fingers gently squeezing Judy’s. “I remember that feeling. Like everything’s yours, but nothing’s filed.”

“Exactly,” Judy murmured. “And some of it… I don’t want back.”

Valerie didn’t rush to answer. She watched the path in front of them for a few steps, then said gently, “Then we leave those where they are. You’re not obligated to carry every piece.”

Judy looked at her, the quiet catching in her throat for a moment. “What if I forget something important?”

Valerie stopped walking and turned fully to face her. She lifted her hand and placed it against Judy’s heart.

“Then I’ll remember it for you.”

Judy’s lips parted, her breath catching.

Then, slowly, she leaned forward and rested her forehead against Valerie’s.

“You always know what to say.”

Valerie breathed in her words. “Only because I’ve been where you are.”

They stood like that for a moment, the trees murmuring gently around them, the lake lapping soft against the shore.

Finally, Judy stepped back, her expression clearer than it had been all morning.

“Thanks for walking with me.”

Valerie gave her hand a tug and smiled. “Always.”

They continued on, side by side.

Not in a rush, just together.

The walk took them the long way around the lake, the sky slowly deepening into the burnished gold of early evening. The shadows stretched long across the water, and the trees whispered their slow goodbyes to the day.

By the time they reached the lakehouse again, the sun was hanging just above the treetops, the deck washed in warm amber light.

Judy stepped up first, her hand still lightly wrapped in Valerie’s. But just before they crossed through the doorway, Valerie slowed… and stopped.

Judy turned to her with a question in her eyes.

Valerie didn’t answer right away. She looked out over the lake instead, the water catching every shade of fire from the sky, and then back to Judy softly, searching.

“Hey, Jude…” she said, her voice quiet. “Let me know if you remember this. And if you don’t, that’s okay. Doesn’t change anything.”

Judy blinked. Then nodded once, silent.

Valerie’s eyes held hers as she began.

“Judy…
You told me I was your reason to stay.
In return, you became my reason to live.
I promise you that I will never stop fighting for you.
For us.
Not even when it’s hard.
Especially when it’s hard.”

Her voice didn’t waver, but there was a hush in it, like something sacred had been placed in the air between them. A weight and a warmth.

Judy stared at her for a long moment, unmoving.

Then she blinked, and took a shaky step closer.

“Valerie…”

Her voice cracked.

“I wanted so badly to leave this city.
To disappear.
Until I met you.
I’m glad I stayed.
You’ve made me the happiest woman alive.
I promise you this:
I’m here for you always.
Wherever you go, I’ll be one step behind you, or beside you if you’ll have me.”

Her hand found Valerie’s again, fingers lacing without hesitation now.

Valerie didn’t speak. She just leaned forward, forehead resting against Judy’s, the closeness pulling everything else into silence.

Judy’s voice dropped to a whisper.

“I remember.”

Valerie’s breath caught.

Judy smiled through the tears that had gathered quietly in her eyes. “Not just the words. The way it felt. My dress didn’t fit right. Your boots had a busted seam. I was so nervous I almost dropped the ring.”

Valerie let out a laugh against her. “I stepped in wet sand and my heel sunk like a stone.”

Judy laughed too, her fingers brushing Valerie’s cheek. “But you still looked like something out of a dream.”

They stood on the deck as the sun dipped lower, arms wrapped around each other, their vows still hanging in the air not as ghosts of the past, but as living memory reclaimed.

Valerie whispered, “You’re still my reason.”

Judy answered, steady now, “Then I guess I’m not leaving anytime soon.”

Inside, the lakehouse had taken on its evening hush windows cracked to the breeze, wood floors lit gold and soft. The smell of cedar clung faint in the corners, familiar as breath.

Valerie stepped through the threshold, watching as Judy wandered in behind her. She moved slowly, but with more ease than this morning like her body had remembered how to trust its shape.

Valerie smiled. “I'll cook us some ramen if you want to rest.”

Judy smiled. “Sounds good, mi amor.”

Valerie turned toward the kitchen, already moving on autopilot: pulling broth from the fridge, slicing thick cuts of leftover pork, gathering noodles, scallions, and eggs. She didn’t say anything yet. Just listened.

Behind her, she heard the soft click of the record player opening.

She turned just enough to see Judy standing beside the shelf at the corner of the hallway, fingers brushing lightly over the edges of old BD cases and vinyl sleeves.

Her hand settled on one.

Valerie’s album.

Love Through Loss.

Judy pulled the sleeve free like it was something delicate, and slid the vinyl from inside. She placed it onto the turntable with slow care, adjusted the needle, and turned the dial to track five.

The opening chords filled the space, warm and haunted and full of breath.

‘I was ashes
Scattered in a world gone cold…’

Valerie stilled at the sink, a knife resting idle in her hand. She didn’t speak. Just watched Judy from across the kitchen, her silhouette still, head slightly bowed as the music wrapped around her.

Judy didn’t look over. She just stood there for a moment, listening. Remembering.

“Didn’t ask for saving
Didn’t know I could feel
But your touch turned the silence
Into something real…”

Then slowly, she walked to the couch and sank into the cushions, her body folding in like she knew the shape of this place by heart. She didn’t cry. Didn’t speak. Just closed her eyes and let the song carry her.

Valerie turned back to the counter.

She let the rhythm of dinner take her in the chop of scallions, the sizzle of pork on the skillet, the soft crack of eggs into gently boiling water. It wasn’t about distraction. It was about presence. A small act of care. A piece of normalcy they’d both fought like hell to keep.

The broth was deep and rich, the way Judy liked it. She plated the bowls just as the final verse played through the speakers.

“But here we are
No more lines to cross
Only light in your eyes…
We found love
Through loss.”

Valerie carried both bowls to the coffee table and sat beside her, knees brushing.

Judy opened her eyes.

They didn’t speak right away. They didn’t have to.

Valerie handed her the bowl with a soft look. “Eat while it’s hot.”

Judy took it with both hands, the steam rising between them.

“You still remember how to make it just right,” she whispered.

Valerie smiled faintly. “I’ll always remember, because of you.”

Judy gave a quiet laugh. “Guess we both kept what mattered.”

The record crackled into silence as the track ended. A Lover’s Embrace began to play, the weight of it lingered, soft and steady between them.

They ate together on the couch, legs tangled, music still echoing a love not written for performance, but survival.

They finished their ramen slowly, neither in a rush, the silence between them easy.

The record had stopped. The lights were dim now, just the warm halo over the stove and the faint amber glow of the moon brushing across the lake through the windows.

Valerie leaned back into the couch, one leg curled beneath her, the empty bowls set aside on the coffee table. Judy remained close, her head resting lightly against Valerie’s shoulder, her fingers tracing lazy patterns on the inside of her wrist.

It was quiet for a long while. Then Judy spoke soft, almost like it wasn’t meant to break the silence, only join it.

“I used to think love was a kind of rescue.”

Valerie didn’t say anything. Just waited.

“That it only worked if someone pulled you out of the fire. But you… you never pulled me out. You walked into it with me.”

Valerie turned just slightly, her voice low. “I couldn’t stand on the outside.”

Judy’s hand stilled on her wrist. “And now it’s different. You don’t look at me like I’m fragile.”

Valerie’s eyes flicked toward her. “You’re not.”

“But I’m not whole either,” Judy said, voice even. “Not yet. Maybe not ever.”

Valerie reached out, brushing the side of her thumb along Judy’s temple, just above the flickering pulse of the neural port.

“Wholeness isn’t about what’s missing,” she whispered. “It’s about what you build anyway.”

Judy closed her eyes.

“Do you think this changes me?” she asked quietly. “Not the fragments or the glitchy memory. I mean… who I am.”

Valerie breathed in slowly.

“I think it made you more. More honest. More here. You feel everything, Jude. You always have. Now it’s just… raw. Unfiltered.”

Judy took a breath. “Scary.”

“Yeah,” Valerie nodded. “But brave as hell.”

Judy turned her head, pressing a kiss just above Valerie’s shoulder.

“I’m scared of forgetting the little things. Like the way your laugh hiccups when you’re too tired. Or the way your fingers twitch when you’re writing lyrics in your head.”

Valerie kissed her brow, voice steady.

“Then I’ll tell you again. As many times as you need.”

Judy smiled faintly.

“And if I forget how we started?”

Valerie’s voice dropped lower, more certain.

“Then I’ll take you back to the beginning. The hallway at Lizzie’s. Two beers. Two breakups. And a smartass with pink and green hair who thought she was hiding how kind her heart really was.”

Judy exhaled a laugh. “I remember that. You said I was the only BD tech who didn’t flinch when you asked for lesbian content.”

Valerie smirked. “You said I had good taste. I said you had terrible coping skills.”

Judy smiled. “And you still stayed.”

Valerie winked. “Of course I did.”

They sat there a long time after that. Wrapped in a kind of silence that meant everything had been said. Valerie’s hand rested against Judy’s ribs. Judy’s head settled fully against her chest. Their breaths moved together.

Slowly, the world began to fade into night not as something lost, but something held.

The lakehouse had gone completely still.

Moonlight traced faint outlines across the hardwood floor, slipping through the half-open curtains like it belonged there. The quiet hum of the world outside faded to nothing just the occasional hush of wind brushing against the windows and the creak of settling wood.

In their bedroom, the sheets were soft and cool against bare skin. Valerie lay on her side, one hand draped over Judy’s waist, her fingers rising and falling with each steady breath.

Judy was tucked close, the back of her body molded into Valerie’s chest, her head resting against her arm. Her skin still held the faint scent of lake air and spice, her presence warm and alive in every inch.

Valerie stayed silent for a long moment, just… breathing with her.

Then softly, she whispered into the curve of Judy’s neck. “Thank you.”

Judy stirred faintly, not in confusion, just recognition. “For what?”

Valerie pressed a gentle kiss behind her ear.

“For choosing this. For choosing us. For not walking away when you could’ve just… rested. After everything, you still said yes to forever with me.”

Judy turned slowly in her arms, her eyes finding Valerie’s in the dark.

“Of course I did,” she said, voice barely above a breath. “You’re not the kind of person you leave behind.”

Valerie blinked slowly, her voice softer now.

“It wasn’t owed to me. You could’ve lived your full life, with all your years. You could’ve moved on.”

“I never wanted to,” Judy said simply. “Not from you. Not from this.”

Valerie searched her eyes. “Are you sure it wasn’t fear? Of death? Of losing time?”

Judy’s expression didn’t falter.

“I wasn’t afraid of death. I was afraid of not having enough life with you.”

Valerie’s breath caught, chest rising sharply before she rested her forehead against Judy’s.

“You’ll still have days where it’s heavy. Where something feels off. You know that, right?”

“Yeah,” Judy nodded. “But I’ll also have all the days after that. With you.”

They lay still, their hands intertwined in the space between them.

Valerie whispered, “I used to wonder if I’d ever feel whole again. After Mikoshi. After Night City. There was always this ache… like I was living in the shell of someone who survived too long.”

Judy’s thumb traced soft circles along Valerie’s wrist. “But you kept going.”

“Because I had you,” Valerie said. “And now… I don’t just have you. You chose this with me. With all your heart.”

Judy smiled faintly, a little sleep beginning to slip into her voice.

“I didn’t do it to escape anything. I did it because forever with you didn’t feel long enough.”

That broke something gentle inside Valerie.

She leaned in and kissed her slowly, no heat, no urgency. Just depth, and knowing.

When she pulled back, she rested her hand along Judy’s cheek, her thumb brushing the edge of her jaw.

“Then we make it ours forever. On our terms. In this house, with our family, and our quiet nights like this.”

Judy nodded. “Forever and always.”

Valerie exhaled slowly, their hands still clasped between them.

In that silence not haunted, not desperate, just real they drifted into sleep. Two women who hadn’t outrun time, but made it their own.

The moon had long slipped below the hills.

The bedroom was bathed in faint blue-gray light, the soft hush of night stretching thin and deep. The lake outside was still. Valerie slept soundly, her hand resting against the small of Judy’s back, fingers curled in unconscious protection.

Judy stirred first.

It wasn’t abrupt. No sharp breath, no startle. Just a shift, a furrow in her brow, a twitch in her hand, a flicker behind closed eyelids.

Something shifted in her mind.
Not pain, or fear.
Just a quiet dissonance like a song slightly out of tune, searching for its rhythm.

The relay flickered to life, not from activation, but as if it knew it was needed. The sync didn’t jolt open; it unfolded, soft and automatic, a tether between them drawn by instinct.

Valerie’s own relay synced in her sleep.

The moment it clicked, her mind began to slip sideways, pulled gently into Judy’s echo space. She didn’t wake fully, but she was there.

It didn’t look like the other times.

There was no white void. No static haze. It was Judy’s world now. A dreamlike composite of the places that held her: the back rooms of Lizzie’s, the rooftop at dawn, the deep-blue hue of Laguna Bend under starlight. All stitched together in a surreal mosaic, shifting with each breath.

In the middle of it, Judy stood fragmented only slightly, like a film reel skipping every few frames.

She was barefoot, her silhouette soft in the digital twilight. Her hands were clenched like she was holding onto something invisible.

Valerie stepped forward slowly, her presence forming with more clarity than ever before.

“Jude,” she called softly, no fear in her voice.

Judy turned toward her.

“I’m almost there,” she whispered. “I can feel it.”

Valerie nodded, stepping closer. “What’s holding you back?”

Judy looked down at her hands, then back at Valerie.

“I keep seeing the goodbye. Not from you. From everything else. It’s like my brain keeps asking if I’m really allowed to move forward.”

Valerie reached out and took her hands, feeling the pulse of that digital weight flickering between their fingers.

“Then don’t say goodbye,” Valerie said gently. “Say yes.”

Judy blinked, something trembling just behind her eyes.

“Yes to what?”

“To yourself. To me. To the next breath. You don’t have to let go of who you were, you're just finishing the sentence.”

Judy let out a shaky breath.

The space began to shift again.

Now they stood in the lakehouse living room. The projection of their second wedding flickered on the wall. A child’s drawing of their family hung just slightly crooked above it.

Judy looked around slowly, and a calm began to settle over her features.

“This is mine,” she whispered.

“It always was.”

Her form solidified in Valerie’s hands. No more flickers, skipped frames, and no static haze pulling her under.

It was Judy.

Just like she always remembered her.

She leaned forward and pressed her forehead to Valerie’s.

“I’m here.”

The sync glowed with quiet affirmation between them, and then, slowly, disconnected on its own.

Back in the bedroom, Valerie stirred.

Judy was curled against her again, warm and steady. Her body no longer trembled. Her breath was deep. Restful.

For the first time since the procedure, her face held no tension.

Valerie brushed her thumb gently along her cheekbone, just once.

“Welcome back, babe.”

Judy didn’t wake, but her fingers tightened around Valerie’s hand, and her lips curved in a quiet smile.

The room was hushed again, the night holding its breath in soft rhythm with the rise and fall of their bodies.

Judy remained asleep peacefully now, her brow smooth, the faintest curve of a smile still resting on her lips.

Valerie watched her for a moment longer, her heart full with something she didn’t need to name. Then, slowly, she shifted closer, careful not to stir her.

She wrapped herself around Judy, one arm slipping gently around her waist, her hand resting just beneath the curve of her ribs. Her leg nestled lightly behind hers. She pressed a quiet kiss to the nape of her neck, letting the warmth of her breath linger.

Judy didn’t move, but her fingers twitched once finding Valerie’s in the dark, and lacing them without effort.

Valerie closed her eyes.

The quiet hum of the house cradled them. Outside, the wind whispered low through the trees. The lake lay still.

In that hush, with no more battles to fight and no more fragments left to chase, the night simply held them.

Even if the world falls apart around them. They have each other forever, and always.

Chapter Text

The morning light crept softly across the room, filtered through pale curtains that swayed gently with the breeze off the lake. The warmth of it touched the floorboards, quiet and slow, like the world was finally exhaling.

Valerie stirred first.

There was no startle, no tightness in her chest. Just breath deep and even. She blinked slowly, eyes adjusting to the pale gold spreading across the bed.

Judy was still asleep beside her.

Her face was calm, her posture relaxed. Not rigid with strain. Not caught in the grip of some unseen memory. Just resting. Fully.

Valerie studied her in the hush, letting the comfort of the moment sink in. A subtle smile tugged at the corner of her lips. She reached out gently, brushing a knuckle along Judy’s arm beneath the blanket.

“You stayed,” she whispered, almost inaudible.

She slid from the bed without waking her, moving barefoot through the house. In the kitchen, she started a pot of coffee and dropped two slices of bread into the toaster. She added jelly raspberry, Judy’s favorite, and poured juice into a glass already beaded with condensation.

Behind her, a faint rustle.

Judy appeared in the hallway, wrapped in the same blanket she’d fallen asleep with. Her eyes were still heavy with sleep, but her gaze was clear. Present.

Valerie turned, met her with a quiet smile, and held out the glass of juice.

Judy accepted it with both hands, her fingers brushing Valerie’s as they touched.

“Didn’t mean to sleep so long,” she murmured.

“You earned it,” Valerie said, brushing her lips against her cheek. “How do you feel?”

Judy took a sip of the juice, then exhaled. “Like I finally came all the way back.”

They sat by the window, plates in front of them, the lake visible beyond the trees. Judy took a bite of toast, eyes fluttering closed for a moment as the taste settled in.

“You always make the jelly taste better somehow,” she said.

“Secret ingredient is love,” Valerie teased softly.

Judy chuckled under her breath and leaned her head against Valerie’s shoulder. The sound of birdsong filtered in through the open window. Somewhere in the distance, a chime stirred in the wind.

“This doesn’t feel like survival,” Judy said quietly. “It feels like living.”

Valerie looked out over the water, then back to her. “That’s because it is.”

They didn’t need to fill the space. It was already full with light, with air, with everything they’d fought so long to keep.

Judy took another sip of juice, eyes squinting slightly as she looked out at the soft blue light stretching across the lake.

“So… this is what survival smells like too?” she quipped, wrinkling her nose.

Valerie raised a brow, unbothered. “I always thought two days of you not showering brings out a certain elegance.”

Judy let out a hoarse laugh. “Elegance? I smell like death.”

Valerie leaned in, smirking. “Need some help to fix that?”

Judy grinned, still sleepy but quick. “Bring that sexy ass, but watch those hands.”

Valerie lifted her hand in a mock innocent gesture, eyes wide. “I’m always innocent.”

“More like trouble,” Judy shot back, nudging her with a shoulder.

Valerie feigned offense, then gave in to a grin. “You didn’t seem to mind trouble last time.”

Judy tilted her head, mock-thinking. “Which time? The rooftop? The lake? The couch? That closet in Arizona?”

Valerie laughed, cheeks warming as she stood and collected the dishes. “Okay, okay, I walked right into that one.”

Judy followed her up slowly, still wrapped in her blanket like a stubborn cloak. “You walk into a lot of things, mi amor. Walls. Feelings. Me.”

“Only the best things,” Valerie said, brushing a kiss to her temple as she passed. “You ready for a real shower or want to stay cocooned in that burrito wrap all day?”

Judy stretched, groaned a little. “Tempting… but you did offer help. So now I’m holding you to it.”

Valerie raised a brow. “You sure? I might make you laugh again and throw off your balance. That’s risky.”

Judy smirked. “Then at least let me fall on someone I love.”

Valerie’s expression softened instantly. “Always.”

They stood there for a moment quiet again, not because they’d run out of things to say, but because the weight had finally lifted.

Valerie reached for her hand. “C’mon, stinky. Let’s get you cleaned up.”

“You’re so romantic,” Judy deadpanned.

Valerie grinned. “I try.”

As they walked down the hall, shoulder to shoulder, Judy glanced sideways at her.

“Thanks for bringing me back.”

Valerie gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “You never left. You just needed time to remember where home was.”

The water was already running by the time they reached the bathroom, steam curling up against the frosted mirror. The tile floor felt cool under their feet, a quiet contrast to the heat building behind the glass.

Judy dropped the blanket with a theatrical shrug. “Dramatic exit,” she said, raising a brow. “Was that elegant enough for you?”

Valerie smirked as she adjusted the water. “Could use more flair. Maybe a spin next time.”

Judy chuckled, stepping in first. The warmth hit her shoulders and she exhaled like she hadn’t in days.

Valerie followed a beat later, slipping in behind her. She didn’t reach for her right away just let her have the water, let it soak into the stress still clinging to her bones.

Judy tilted her head back, letting the stream cascade down her face, over the raw edge of her scalp, down her spine. “God… that feels real.”

Valerie’s voice was soft behind her. “Because it is.”

Judy turned slightly, enough to meet her eyes. Her skin glistened in the light, still paler than usual, but no longer ghost-like. She was present.

Judy tilted her head slightly, eyes closed as the heat soaked into her scalp. Her breathing slowed, shoulders lowering inch by inch.

“You still sure I’m allowed to touch?” she teased, her voice low.

Judy leaned into the touch, lips curving gently. “You’re not just allowed. I want it.”

Valerie lifted her hand, brushing her fingers lightly along Judy’s jaw, careful and steady. Skin to skin not to stir heat, but to ground it. To say I’m here.

Judy turned, her back pressed lightly against Valerie’s front. Valerie wrapped her arms around her, their bodies slick with water, breath steadying into shared rhythm.

“Still smell like death?” Judy murmured.

Valerie kissed her shoulder. “Like a goddess resurrected.”

Judy laughed, head falling back against her. “So dramatic.”

“You love it.”

“I do.”

Valerie picked up the body wash and started working it gently across Judy’s skin, slow circles along her back, her arms. Careful with every movement.

“I missed this,” Judy said quietly.

“The shower?” Valerie teased.

“The way you touch,” she replied, without a hint of irony.

Valerie pressed a kiss to the back of her neck. “I missed you, Jude. All of you.”

No more words were said for a while. Just steam, water, and touch two bodies remembering how to rest against each other.

When they finally shut off the water, they stepped out wrapped in towels, dripping and warm, laughter still echoing lightly between them.

Valerie handed Judy another towel for her scalp. “I’ll dye it again when you’re ready. But you’re beautiful just like this.”

Judy met her gaze, steady. “I know.”

Valerie grinned. “I’m lucky to have you.”

Judy was toweling off slowly, still careful with her movements. Valerie watched from the dresser, quietly observing the subtle tremor in her fingers as she folded the edge of the towel. A twitch small, but there.

Valerie didn’t say anything. Just stepped over, handed her a soft charcoal tank top and a pair of loose cotton joggers easy clothes, the kind that didn’t ask anything of you.

Judy slipped them on in silence, then glanced at her reflection briefly in the mirror. Her gaze lingered.

Valerie caught it.

“Anything you’d like to do today?” she asked, voice gentle, like she was offering time itself.

Judy hesitated, running a hand along the hem of the tank, fingers brushing the smooth skin of her scalp. “Do you think people are ready to see me? I mean… this shine is a lot.”

Valerie smiled and walked over, resting her hands lightly on Judy’s waist. “Doesn’t matter what they think. They’ll never know your true beauty like I do.”

That got her.

Judy flushed instantly, eyes dipping before flicking back up with a grin. “Married eleven years, and you still know how to make a woman feel special.”

Valerie winked. “Same goes for you.”

Judy beamed, cheeks warm. “Maybe we can stop by Wildest Dreams. Grab some drinks. Watch a couple BDs, say hi to Vanessa and Jessica?”

Valerie smirked as she pulled on her jacket. “I’m sure Jennifer would love to see you.”

Judy’s jaw dropped with mock outrage before she snatched the nearest pillow and tossed it full-force at her. “Hey! It was an honest mistake!”

Valerie caught it midair, laughing. “Mmhm. You called her Jennifer twice, Jude.”

“I was half-delirious and full of endorphins!”

“Sure you were.”

Judy grumbled something incoherent before grinning again. “It’s good to see this fire inside you again,” Valerie added, voice softening.

Judy stepped forward, sliding her arms around Valerie’s waist. “It’s good to feel it again.”

They stood there like that for a moment, close, content. The laughter lingering in the room like a breeze that didn’t want to leave just yet.

“Alright,” Valerie said, pressing a kiss to her cheek. “Let’s go remind the world what it means to burn bright.”

Judy’s eyes sparkled. “Damn right.”

Judy was adjusting the cuffs of her Clan Alvarez jacket, fingers brushing along the familiar worn denim. The Phoenix across the back shimmered faintly in the window light, the stitched lotus flower at her chest just catching the edge of morning sun. She paused when her thumb passed over the patch on the right breast pocket Valerie, stitched in purple thread. That touch stayed a moment longer.

Then her holo buzzed.

Incoming Call: SERA

Judy tapped the screen, already smiling. “Hey, mi cielo.”

Sera’s voice came through warm and bright. “Hey, Mama. Just checking in before Sandra and I head out.”

Valerie looked up from the small shelf by the door where she’d been loading an extra mag into her hip holster. Her own Alvarez jacket was already on faded in places from years of wear, Judy stitched over her heart.

“Where to this time?” Judy asked, leaning lightly against the edge of the wall.

“We’re heading west past Dead Ridge. Dante got wind of an old Arasaka lab still intact under the rock. Killjoy wants it cleared and logged before scavvers get word. We’ve got full gear, enough crew. Should be clean.”

Sandra’s voice was faint in the background, already calling out prep signals.

Judy’s brows knit slightly. “Keep alert. Those basements sometimes have leftover security layers.”

“We will. If there’s anything cool, we’ll snag it for you,” Sera said, light teasing in her voice.

Valerie stepped into view beside Judy, folding her arms. “Watch each other’s backs. Anything stirs wrong, you fall back first, not last.”

Sera’s voice softened. “Got it. You two doing okay?”

Judy glanced at Valerie, then back at the flickering holo. “Better than okay. We’re here.”

“You sound like yourself again, Mama. I missed that.”

Judy’s eyes glistened just faintly, but she held steady. “I missed me too.”

Sera gave a soft exhale. “Love you both.”

“Love you too,” Judy said.

Valerie added, voice even and full of quiet weight, “Always.”

The call ended. Judy lowered her hand slowly, exhaling through her nose as she glanced toward the door.

“She’s grown up,” she murmured.

Valerie stepped closer, fingers brushing lightly along the seam of Judy’s sleeve. “She had you to look up to.”

They stepped outside together, the sun catching the chrome finish of the purple Racer. Its lotus inlay glinted against the matte black fuel tank, the engine already prepped for the road. Judy ran a hand along the seat, feeling the soft hum of metal against her palm.

“Still remember how to hold on?” Valerie asked, already swinging her leg over.

Judy smirked, mounting behind her with ease. “Every curve, mi amor.”

The engine growled to life beneath them. The peninsula road stretched out, lined in pine and quiet sun, and the Racer glided forward, carving its way toward the beating heart of the city.

When they reached the Entertainment District, the glow of Wildest Dreams welcomed them sleek façade, subtle violet lights against deep black stone. Neon curled in soft ribbons across the glass entrance, and inside, music vibrated low through the walls like a heartbeat.

Valerie killed the engine, letting the quiet settle before glancing back.

“You good?” she asked.

Judy smiled, full and certain. “Better.”

They stepped through the doors as the atmosphere hit them.

The door to Wildest Dreams whispered shut behind them, muting the city’s outside pulse. Inside, the ambiance was velvet-smooth low lighting, soft golds and violets casting calm shadows. Holo-panels shifted slow-motion visuals behind the bar: desert storms blooming into lotus petals, rose petals caught in firelight. The music was a slow electro-blues, a sound that wrapped itself around you like smoke.

It smelled like cherrywood, lavender, and something warm like vanilla layered over old memories.

A few heads turned when they entered nothing loud, just that subtle nod of recognition. Valerie and Judy Alvarez.

Behind the bar, Jessica stood in a cropped tee and tight black jeans, her white fur ears twitching as she looked up from a bottle she’d been pouring.

Her eyes lit up.

“Well, damn. Look what the wind dragged back in.”

Judy cracked a smile. “That’s one way to greet a walking miracle.”

Jessica didn’t hesitate. She vaulted the bar in one smooth motion and pulled Judy into a firm but careful hug, her voice lowering as she whispered, “You scared the hell out of us.”

Judy leaned into it, her cheek brushing soft against Jessica’s fur. “Yeah… I scared me too.”

Valerie gave them a breath before stepping in, bumping her knuckles lightly against Jessica’s shoulder. “Easy. She still needs the wiring to settle.”

Jessica laughed softly, stepping back with a hand over her heart. “Right. No jolts. Got it.”

From a corner booth, Vanessa was already rising her yellow wolf eyes cutting through the low light, her red hair swaying. She didn’t say anything at first, just stepped over and gently placed a hand over Judy’s shoulder.

“You made it through.”

Judy nodded, voice quiet. “With help.”

Vanessa’s hand squeezed once. “That’s how we all do it.”

The four of them gathered at the bar as Jessica slid a reserved sign off the far end, already moving to pour drinks. Judy and Valerie took the padded stools side by side, shoulders brushing.

Jessica pulled two sleek glasses from beneath the counter and raised an eyebrow.

“Centzon tequila, or should I assume today’s a mezcal moment?”

Valerie smirked. “Surprise us.”

Vanessa leaned against the bar beside them, her tone softer now. “You’re welcome to stay as long as you want. Private booth’s open if you’d rather keep things lowkey.”

Judy looked around the warm lights, the familiar faces, the sense of ease she hadn’t felt in weeks. Then she turned to Valerie, who was already watching her.

“I don’t want to hide,” Judy said.

Valerie nodded, her hand resting lightly over Judy’s on the bar. “Then we won’t.”

Jessica slid their drinks over with a grin. “To surviving. To staying.”

Judy clinked her glass gently against Valerie’s. “To always.”

They drank.

Somewhere behind them, the music shifted an older track of Valerie’s cycling through the speakers. Something slow. Something about fire and the way it softens metal, not just scorches it.

Vanessa gave a rare smile. “We’ve missed this.”

Valerie glanced around the room. She felt the weight of all they’d lost and everything they’d fought to keep. And she looked to Judy.

“We’re not going anywhere.”

Judy leaned in. “Damn right we’re not.”

The bar slowly faded behind them as Jessica tipped her head toward the private lounge on the second floor. “C’mon. You two’ve earned a quiet corner.”

Judy gave her a grateful look, then followed Valerie through the velvet-curtained archway into the private space above. Vanessa and Jessica joined them a moment later, drinks in hand. The room overlooked the main floor through smoked glass, but it was hushed, dim and plush with a low sectional wrapped around a small table, ambient lighting pulsing like a slow heartbeat.

Judy settled on the couch, curling one leg up beneath her. Valerie dropped in beside her, arm instinctively draping along the back of the cushions behind her shoulders.

Vanessa sat across from them, her yellow eyes calm and direct. Jessica leaned forward, resting her chin in her hand, tail flicking lazily behind her.

“You look steadier,” Vanessa said softly, watching Judy with care.

Judy nodded. “Feels like I’m on real ground again. Mostly.”

Jessica studied her a moment. “Still getting flickers?”

“Not the void kind. Just… echoes.” Judy’s fingers flexed slightly, then steadied again. “Like my mind’s walking into a room before I do.”

Valerie turned toward her. “Still you, though.”

“Yeah.” Judy smiled faintly. “Just with some extra static.”

Jessica’s smirk softened. “You always did have the strongest signal in the room.”

That pulled a laugh from Judy, quiet but genuine. “Missed this.”

Vanessa sipped her drink. “When we heard… we didn’t know how much time we’d have to prepare. We just made space. Cleared the upstairs. Kept your favorite BDs loaded.”

Judy blinked, emotion flickering behind her eyes.

Valerie reached for her hand. “They never stopped believing in you.”

Jessica shrugged, eyes warm. “We watched you pull Valerie through hell and back. We knew damn well you weren’t going anywhere without giving it a fight.”

Judy looked at both of them. “You two always said we were family.”

Vanessa gave a rare smile. “Still true.”

Valerie leaned forward slightly. “You’ve both been more than just allies. The Wolfcats’ve always had our backs, hell, you kept half our settlements stocked during the first year.”

Jessica waved a hand. “Please. Don’t go making me sentimental.”

Judy tilted her head. “Too late. I saw that tail flick when we walked in.”

Jessica’s ears flattened with a grin. “Shut up.”

Laughter passed between them like a spark, quiet, and healing.

Vanessa set her glass down. “We’re not Clan Alvarez. We never will be. But we’re family all the same. You fall, we catch. That’s never changed.”

Judy’s throat tightened. “I don’t know if I’ve said it enough, but thank you. Both of you.”

Jessica’s voice softened. “You don’t have to.”

Valerie watched the exchange, her thumb brushing slow across Judy’s knuckles. “Still think the world needs to catch up to how much love there is in this room.”

Judy leaned against her shoulder. “Let ‘em take their time. We’ve got forever now.”

The four of them sat in that hush for a while, no longer needing to fill the silence. Just being. The kind of quiet that only exists between people who’ve fought the same ghosts and stayed.

When they returned to the main floor, it was with the sort of quiet energy that turned heads not from spectacle, but from presence.

The music had shifted into something pulsing and bright synth layered with old analog rhythm, the kind that crawled up the spine and into the feet. The floor was alive with bodies moving through starlit beams of light and slow-falling mist from the ceiling vents.

Judy slid an arm around Valerie’s waist, drink still in hand, her eyes catching the movement of a nearby holo-spinner lighting up the floor.

“Feel like dancing, mi amor?”

Valerie raised an eyebrow. “You sure you’re ready for this shine?”

Judy laughed, stepping back just enough to tug Valerie by the hand. “I’m not hiding, remember?”

Valerie smirked. “Damn right you’re not.”

They slipped into the edges of the dancefloor, light washing over them. Judy moved like she had nothing to prove just rhythm in her limbs and heat under her skin. Her jacket caught the lights, her head still smooth under the glow, but there was no hesitation in her.

Someone turned. Someone stared.

Judy caught their eyes, and smiled.

Then turned back to Valerie and spun her with a playful ease, the music thudding soft and rich around them.

Jessica leaned on the bar, watching. Vanessa stood beside her, arms folded, a quiet nod of approval tipping her chin.

“She’s back,” Jessica murmured.

Vanessa didn’t look away. “She never really left.”

Valerie wrapped her arms around Judy’s waist from behind, lips brushing her ear.

“You know they’re all looking at you, right?”

Judy leaned back against her. “Let them. I look damn good.”

Valerie laughed softly. “Yes, you do.”

Together, they moved bodies in sync, a kind of slow joy carved from survival, defiance, and all the light they chose to keep.

The pulsing music and golden haze of Wildest Dreams faded behind them as Judy and Valerie made their way back upstairs. The second-floor lounge hadn’t been touched still dim, quiet, and comfortably removed from the dancefloor below.

Judy flopped back onto the sectional, her jacket half-open, cheeks still glowing from movement and tequila. “Damn, I missed this place.”

Valerie dropped in beside her, arm brushing her side. “Think it missed you, too.”

Judy reached for the panel beside the couch, flicking through the BD shelf with a few lazy swipes. It was an eclectic lineup of old indie reels, art-house edits, and her own curated folder labeled For Soft Nights Only. A few had Jessica’s initials tagged in the edit log.

She tilted her head, smirking. “You know we can watch any kind of BD, right? Doesn’t have to be romance.”

Valerie raised an eyebrow, a slow grin forming. “You’re the one who decided to make smut, and your work’s always been divine even when you transitioned to full-length films.”

Judy scoffed, mock-offended. “Excuse me, that was artistic smut.”

Valerie leaned over, kissing her cheek. “Exactly.”

Judy chuckled and settled on one of her older reels, simple, warm, dimly lit. Two women curled on a bed, laughing into each other’s mouths between kisses. Soft light, slow edits. The kind that made you feel something in your ribs.

“Wanna sync our relays while we watch it?” Judy asked, BD wreath in hand.

Valerie’s eyes met hers, green eyes gleaming in the low light. “Promise my thoughts’ll only be about you.”

Judy laughed. “Flatterer.”

They fitted the BD wreaths in silence, small adjustments made from instinct. The sync flicked to life between them a low current humming at the base of their necks. Not overwhelming, just enough to pull their emotions together like matching waves.

The BD flickered to life.

And just like that, they drifted in not lost in the story, but in each other. Valerie could feel Judy’s smile before she heard it. Judy felt Valerie’s breath slow, her thoughts settle.

It wasn’t about lust. Not tonight.

It was about presence. A love that didn’t fade, even when the world changed around them. Two women who had seen death, ghosts, and digital voids, and still chose nights like this.

Soft light flickered across their skin.

The BD rolled on, echoing laughter and the hush of shared touches. But it was the relay that spoke the loudest, each beat of affection echoing like a heartbeat, felt rather than heard.

Together, they leaned in. Not for the story, but for each other.

The BD finished in a soft fade, the final image dissolving into gentle static before the projector dimmed. The air in the lounge was still warm from their laughter, their sync still humming like the last breath of a song.

Judy reached up, removing her wreath. She stretched with a quiet, satisfied sigh. “You know… this was perfect.”

Valerie mirrored her, unplugging with a smile. “Told you. We needed this.”

Downstairs, the crowd had thinned. The beat had mellowed, the bar winding down for the night. Vanessa and Jessica were waiting near the front, drinks in hand, leaning close in private conversation. When they saw Valerie and Judy, both straightened with practiced ease.

Judy stepped forward first, arms wide. “Gracias, both of you. This…” she glanced back toward the upstairs. “...was exactly what I didn’t know I needed.”

Jessica smirked, folding her arms. “Anytime, Alvarez.”

Vanessa simply nodded, a flicker of warmth in her eyes. “Doors are always open.”

Valerie gave them each a hug, brief but real. “We’ll return the favor. Drinks next time on the deck at the lake.”

Jessica leaned in with a wink. “You bring the tequila, I’ll bring the trouble.”

Judy was still laughing as they stepped outside into the cool night air.

Valerie's Racer purred to life beneath them, its low hum gliding smoothly along the peninsula road that stretched out beneath stars. Judy tucked against her back, arms wrapped snug around her waist, her head resting lightly between Valerie’s shoulder blades. The wind curled around them, not biting, just brisk enough to remind them they were alive.

By the time they reached the lakehouse, the horizon was a soft navy, the last city lights a distant blur behind them. They pulled into the garage, the Racer's lights cutting out as the door closed behind them.

Inside, the house welcomed them with its familiar hush. Lights dimmed. Air still carrying the faint scent of pine and old wood. Valerie slipped off her jacket, hanging it neatly before tossing her boots by the door. Judy did the same, her steps slower but steady.

They were just starting to settle Valerie pouring water, Judy stretching on the couch when the holo on the kitchen counter buzzed.

Valerie tapped it to life.

Sera’s face appeared, dirt-smudged and windblown but grinning ear to ear.

“Hey! Just checking in. We made it to the Arasaka facility. Mostly ruins, but Dante’s got a good team sweeping the inner levels now. Sandra found an intact data cache we’re gonna run it back once the area’s secure.”

Judy leaned into the frame, smiling. “Sounds like you’re having fun.”

“You know it, Mama. Don’t worry, we’re being careful. Dante’s with us, and I made sure everyone’s got patched comms this time.”

Valerie crossed her arms, half teasing. “You say that like last time wasn’t your idea.”

Sera grinned wider. “It usually is.”

“We’ll call again once we’re back at the junction. Love you both.”

“Love you too,” Judy said gently.

Valerie gave a nod. “Keep each other safe.”

The call ended, the kitchen lights reflecting softly off the dark counters. Outside, the lake shimmered under moonlight.

Judy sank deeper into the couch with a tired sigh. “Our girl’s turning into a real badass.”

Valerie joined her, curling close, pulling a blanket over both of them. “She always was.”

They didn’t need anything else, not tonight. Just the soft hum of home. The stillness of shared breath. And the quiet comfort of knowing the world was still turning with the people they loved safe inside it.

The couch had become their world for the night blanket wrapped, lights low, the lake casting quiet shadows through the windows. Valerie sat reclined against the armrest, legs stretched out. Judy lay curled half against her, her cheek resting just above Valerie’s heart, breath steady now, not from exhaustion, but ease.

Her fingers wandered gently, not urgently, not searching. Just… remembering.

Judy tilted her head and pressed a kiss just beneath Valerie’s jaw, letting her lips brush against the inked lotus on her neck. She lingered there, warm breath soft against skin.

“Truly chose the best woman to spend forever with,” she whispered.

Valerie’s smile was lazy, content. “Can’t argue with your taste.”

Judy let her fingers trail lower, brushing Valerie’s tank top up just enough to expose the ink beneath her left breast. She traced each line of the tattoo there slowly, reverently, voice barely a murmur:

“Don’t tell me I’m dying.”

Her touch was light, more a connection than pressure as if tracing the words pulled her closer to the woman who wore them.

Valerie's eyes fluttered closed for a moment. “Funny. I remember you reading that out loud once. Said it didn’t scare you.”

“I meant it,” Judy murmured, lips now brushing Valerie’s ribs between the words. “Still do.”

Her hand slid lower, along Valerie’s left arm, fingertips gliding to the rose tattoo that bloomed up the forearm. She paused at the name above the stem.

“Valerie…” she whispered, then traced downward.

“Judy…” her voice was softer now, eyes following her finger like it anchored her.

“Forever and always,” she breathed, finishing the loop. “You inked our story on your body before either of us realized how long it’d be.”

Valerie tilted her head toward her, brushing their noses gently. “I always knew.”

Judy smiled, not shy, playful, but vulnerable in that way only she could be. “You know, for someone who acts all tough, you’re a walking love letter.”

Valerie smirked. “Only for you.”

Judy leaned up slowly, kissing her with no hunger, just warmth. It lingered, stretched into something wordless.

When she pulled back, she rested her head just beneath Valerie’s collarbone again, arm draped over her side, fingers still curled gently over the wedding tattoo.

“Still me?” she asked softly.

Valerie wrapped both arms around her, holding her there like she never planned to let go.

“Always.”

The night pressed in around them not heavy, not hollow. Just enough to keep them close.

Two women. One story. And every soft promise written into skin, breath, and being.

Still curled beneath the blanket, Valerie placed her hand gently over Judy’s. Their gold wedding bands met with a soft metallic tap, the sound so small yet full of everything they’d carried through the years.

She looked down at their hands, then up into Judy’s dark brown eyes.

“Is it okay if I show you something I remembered?”

Judy’s smile was instant, trusting. “Sure thing, mi amor.”

Their relays synced again with a subtle pulse, no urgency, just shared breath. A memory opened between them, not from a BD reel, but from the archive of Valerie’s soul.

The image flickered softly into place.

The morning of their wedding.

Evening draped itself over the lake, the sky dressed in lavender and gold. Lanterns swung above the ceremony space, casting pools of light onto the worn planks of the dock. Waves lapped the shoreline in quiet rhythm. The air held stillness beautiful, but heavy.

Valerie stood alone near the edge of the broken dock, her white dress kissed with gold trim fluttering gently. Her hands gripped the edge as though the wood could ground her. Her head bowed slightly, her breath uneven.

She didn’t hear Judy at first. Just felt her.

“You okay?” Judy’s voice was soft, not worried, but inviting.

Valerie answered without turning. “No. Not really.”

Judy came to her side. “Cold feet?”

A dry laugh. “Not cold. Just cracked. Like everything else I’ve touched.”

She turned then, eyes shining but unsure. “What if I screw this up? What if I let you down? What if I’m not enough for you, Jude?”

No hesitation.

Judy stepped closer, hand to her cheek, warm and steady.

“You already are, Val. You’ve been enough since the day you dragged my ass out of Clouds and told me I mattered.”

Their foreheads touched, and the world seemed to hush.

“You’ve never let me down. Not once. And even if things get messy, and they will, I'm not going anywhere.”

Valerie’s voice broke. “I want to believe that. I do.”

Judy whispered, “You don’t have to believe it yet. Just let me show you. Starting now.”

The memory dissolved gently, the glow of their eyes dimming as they drifted back into the quiet of the real room, breath syncing, minds still open but calm.

Judy’s hand remained on Valerie’s. The other traced soft lines across her side, grounding her in the moment. “Thanks for reminding me.”

Judy shifted as her lips smirked, poking her stomach. “I know that look. What else is running through that head of yours?”

Valerie gave a half-laugh, brushing her thumb over Judy’s knuckles. “After our wedding, I still had to deal with Japantown. Fighting Oda. Takemura kidnapped Hanako. Shit got crazy fast.”

Judy raised an eyebrow, amused. “And after all that, the first thing you did was show up at Lizzie’s while I was working on some edits.”

Valerie grinned. “You pounced on me like I was the last slice of pizza.”

Judy burst out laughing. “We were just married, and you’d been gone four days. What did you expect?”

“I remember you throwing me on that viewing table in your editing room. I was losing clothes faster than I could breathe.”

Judy gave her that crooked smile. “And you weren’t exactly shy about returning the favor.”

Valerie’s eyes softened, the grin easing into something deeper. “It wasn’t just about your touch. It was the way you kept making me remember, even in the worst of it, that I wasn’t alone. That the hell I was walking through still had someone waiting for me on the other side. You made every burn worth it.”

Judy leaned in, kissing the space just above her heart. “You always made it back.”

Valerie whispered, “Because you were my compass.”

They lay there, the laughter easing into quiet again.

Judy rested her head back down. “Feels like we’re walking through a new kind of fire now. Just slower, and quieter.”

Valerie tucked a strand of Judy’s hair, a little patch that had started to regrow behind her ear. “But we’re still side by side. And if we slip, we’ve got each other to hold on to.”

Judy looked up, eyes steady. “Forever?”

Valerie didn’t even blink. “Always.”

The words settled between them like the last notes of a lullaby: quiet, honest, nothing more to prove.

Valerie shifted just enough to wrap both arms around Judy, drawing her close again beneath the blanket. No tension in her touch, just instinct. Love long-practiced, gently renewed.

Judy let her head rest beneath Valerie’s chin, one arm draped across her wife’s waist, fingers idly tracing the edge of her tank top. Her breath slowed, warm against Valerie’s skin.

Outside, the wind moved lightly across the lake, brushing the surface in soft waves that lapped the shore in time with their shared breathing.

Inside, the house held them. Steady. Unmoving.

Judy’s eyes fluttered closed first, her last whispered thought caught somewhere between sleep and memory.

“I still hear the vows when I look at you…”

Valerie pressed a kiss into her scalp, eyes closed, a silent promise sealed in stillness.

No more echoes. No more chasing clarity.

Just the weight of each other. Just peace.

Slowly, the world drifted away leaving only the hum of the relay between them, and the warmth of home, holding them through the night.

The first light of morning crept in gentle and low, spilling across the hardwood in soft amber streaks. The lake shimmered just beyond the windows, touched by sunrise, as if the whole world had exhaled in their sleep.

Valerie stirred slowly, lashes fluttering as consciousness eased its way in. Her body ached in the way only comfort could cause sleeping in the same spot for hours, Judy’s full weight wrapped around her like a second blanket.

She smiled before her eyes even opened.

Judy was still curled tightly against her, one arm slung across Valerie’s ribs, the other tucked between them. Her cheek rested against Valerie’s chest, lips parted slightly, warm breath feathering skin. Her fingers twitched now and then, almost as if turning pages only she could see.

Valerie kept still. Just watched her.

Judy’s lips moved a faint motion, barely a whisper of a smile or a word never spoken. Her brow furrowed and eased in small pulses, the kind that came from dreaming in fragments. Not nightmares. Not anymore. Just pieces sliding slowly back into place.

Valerie raised her hand, slow and steady, brushing her fingers across the soft regrowth at the back of Judy’s head. Her touch lingered there, grounding. A rhythm without pressure. A presence without urgency.

“Still with me,” Valerie murmured, not loud enough to wake her just enough to make it real.

Judy stirred slightly at the sound, her lips twitching against Valerie’s skin. A quiet sigh escaped her, the kind that rode the edge of dreaming and awareness. But she didn’t wake.

Valerie looked down at her, heart full in that quiet way only mornings like this could bring. The worst of it had passed. The void had receded. But there were still shadows, still unconnected thoughts floating in Judy’s mind. Still echoes that hadn’t quite settled.

Yet… she was here.

Whole? Not yet, but safe. Steady, and healing.

Valerie kissed her forehead, careful not to shift too much. “Take your time, Jude,” she whispered. “I’ll be here.”

She leaned her head back into the pillow, one hand still cradling Judy close, the other resting over their wedding bands where Judy’s fingers still curled loosely against her ribs.

Outside, the wind rustled the trees.

Inside, two hearts stayed in sync. Waiting for the day to begin, together.

Valerie’s eyes shifted toward the coffee table, catching the soft pulse of light from her holo. The gentle blue flick blinked once… twice… then settled into a steady glow. She carefully slipped her arm out from under Judy’s resting form, placing a tender kiss on her forehead before easing herself off the couch.

Judy didn’t stir, still bundled in the blanket they’d fallen asleep under, breath warm and even against the pillow where Valerie had been.

Valerie padded softly across the floor, bare feet silent on the old wood, and picked up the holo from the table. The message glowed on the screen:

Sera: Mom, call you when you get up.

Valerie smiled faintly, thumb hovering a moment before she tapped to reply.
She glanced back at Judy, who remained curled and peaceful, then stepped out onto the back deck.

The morning was still crisp, cooler than usual for summer, the lake stretching quiet and glassy under a rising sun. Valerie leaned one hand on the rail, holding the holo with the other as it rang.

Sera picked up on the second ring, her voice warm but laced with the fatigue of travel.

“Hey, Mom.”

Valerie leaned on the railing, instinctively scanning the horizon. “Hey, Starshine. You two back safe?”

“Yeah, just got in. Sandra’s passed out already, and Dante’s decompressing with whiskey and bad jokes.” A pause. “Wanted to check on you. And Mama.”

Valerie’s eyes drifted toward the living room window, where Judy remained curled on the couch beneath the blanket, her form still as sleep held her gently.

“She’s resting,” Valerie said softly. “Tighter grip this morning. Breath is even. Still piecing things together, but she’s here. And she’s her.”

Sera let out a long breath through the line. One of those subtle exhales only daughters made when worry had been holding in their lungs too long.

“Good. Damn good to hear.”

Valerie shifted slightly, letting the early sun hit her cheek.

“Everything going alright on your end?”

“More or less. That Arasaka site was stripped, but we found a secure armory vault. Still had functioning gear, old prototype field implants, some encrypted drives. Nothing Ghost Watch, just tech the Corps dumped after the Collapse.”

Valerie’s brow lifted. “Salvageable?”

“We’re sorting it now. Brought the gear back to Highland Junction. Killjoy’s coordinating with the techs. No signs of Ghost Watch or weird bleed-throughs.”

Valerie nodded. “Good. That’s something.”

Sera’s voice lowered slightly. Not with hesitation, but with the tenderness that came from knowing someone’s cracks even when they tried to hide them.

“How are you doing, Mom?”

Valerie leaned against the railing, the phone warm in her hand. The question settled deep, and she let herself feel it.

She didn’t answer right away.

The wind curled past her as she watched the lake stretch wide and endless.

“I’m tired,” she said finally. Her voice wasn’t shaky, but it was honest. “There’s a weight to it. Watching someone you love unravel in front of you, even when you know it’s part of the healing.”

She took a breath. “I’m not falling apart… but I feel the edges.”

“Yeah,” Sera whispered. “That’s what I thought.”

There wasn’t judgment in her voice, just love. Steady, rooted, fierce.

“You always say Mama’s the strong one. But so much of her strength… it’s you, Mom. It always has been.”

Valerie blinked, her eyes stinging slightly, but she didn’t let the tears fall.

“She was there for me when I didn’t know who I was. She anchored me through everything through the chip, the fear, the waiting.”

Her voice went softer.

“Now it’s my turn.”

“She came back to you, because you gave her something to come back to.”

A faint smile tugged at Valerie’s lips, worn but real.

“Tell Mama I love her, okay?” Sera added gently. “And I’ll call again tonight. Maybe come by this weekend if Sandra’s up for a ride.”

Valerie nodded, the smile lingering. “We’d like that. Judy will too.”

“Love you, Mom.”

Valerie emerald eyes gleamed
“Love you, Starshine.”

The call ended, but the words lingered. Valerie stood quiet for a few seconds longer before she stepped back inside heart heavier, but held.

As the call with Sera ended, the lake reflecting soft gold behind her, Valerie pulled the holo down and tapped the edge to check for any other notifications. One more blinked back at her missed message from the band group thread.

She opened it.

It was a photo. The four of them Ethan with his arm slung over Paz’s shoulder, Alba throwing peace signs, Aniko half-smiling as usual standing in front of The Red Dirt Bar in Night City. That old marquee above them was still half-flickering.

Below the photo was the message:

Sorry we ghosted after you got kidnapped by a space wizard. Hope everything is okay. We got hired to play at Red Dirt. Told them the frontwoman’s unfortunately sick. We hired that street musician Valerie Halloway, the one Paz showed you the video of to fill in. Figured you wouldn’t mind. We’ll try not to let you down. Let us know how things are going.

Valerie smirked, the tension in her shoulders loosening a touch. That kind of warmth only old friends could bring. She typed back, fingers quick.

I’m glad you’re giving Valerie Halloway a chance. Hope to meet her someday. Stay out of trouble, yeah? Judy’s doing better. I’ll set up another show in Klamath Falls once you're back. We’ve got stories to trade.

She paused, then added:

And tell Aniko her stage lighting better not burn anyone’s eyebrows off this time.

She hit send, the faint satisfaction of connection grounding her again. It was still the quiet morning, but her world was slowly reassembling. Judy healing, and Sera holding steady. The Clan kept building, and the band was still raising hell.

Valerie slipped the holo into her pocket and stepped back inside. The house was still hushed, the kind of quiet that felt like permission to breathe.

She padded barefoot into the kitchen, fingers reaching for the coffee tin out of habit. Judy would want some when she woke up.

She always did. Especially on days like these days when the hardest parts had already passed, but the need for comfort remained.

From the kitchen, the sound of the coffee machine hissed its first sputtering breath when Valerie heard movement from the couch.

Judy stirred, limbs stretching with a slow, lazy grace, the blanket slipping halfway off her as she blinked against the light filtering through the windows. Her voice came out half-groggy, half-pouting.

“Where did my sexy body pillow go?”

Valerie leaned against the counter, mug in hand, smirking over the rim. “Had to trade cuddles for caffeine. Your tragic loss.”

Judy squinted, then grinned as she sat up, her voice still thick with sleep. “Mmm… I don’t know. Might need compensation.”

Valerie raised a brow. “Toast with jelly and freshly brewed coffee count as a peace offering?”

Judy sniffed the air, lips curling. “Is this what survival smells like?”

Valerie chuckled, walking over to set the mug down on the coffee table in front of her. “Damn right it is.”

Judy took the mug with both hands, sipping slowly as she looked up at Valerie. “You’re lucky I love you. Otherwise, I’d drag you back under that blanket and make you suffer the wrath of cold feet.”

Valerie leaned down, brushing a kiss against her temple. “You say that like it’s a punishment.”

Judy hummed in response, leaning her head on Valerie’s hip. “You make even mornings feel like forever.”

Valerie gently carded her fingers across the back of Judy’s scalp. “That’s the plan.”

Valerie smiled as she tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, crouching slightly to get a better look at Judy’s scalp. “Got a small patch starting to grow back.”

Judy gave a nonchalant shrug, her fingers still cradling the warm coffee mug. “Think I can trust you to help me dye it when it does?”

Valerie’s smirk deepened. “Only if I get to pick metallic purple.”

Judy laughed, full and bright, her voice still laced with sleep. “Hell no. Pink for love, green for growth. Suits me more now than it ever did.”

Valerie’s grin turned sly as she reached out and tickled Judy’s toes. “Weren’t kidding about the cold. Need help warming them up?”

Without warning, Judy lifted the hem of her tank top and planted one ice-cold foot flat against Valerie’s bare stomach.

Valerie let out a squeal, laughing as she recoiled slightly. “Not what I had in mind, but hey, if it makes you happy, I’m happy.”

Judy beamed, eyes glittering with mischief. “What’s the point of having a hot wife forever if she can’t warm your toes?”

Valerie rolled her eyes fondly, rubbing at her stomach. “Valid point. Also Sera says she loves you. Just got off the holo with her. They wrapped up their mission. Found some cool things, apparently.”

Judy perked up a little. “Yeah? She okay?”

Valerie nodded, brushing her knuckles softly along Judy’s knee. “Sounded steady. Sandra’s got her back like always. Said they might swing through soon. I think she wanted to see for herself that you’re really doing alright.”

Judy went quiet for a beat, her smile softening.

“She still calls me Mama.”

“She always will,” Valerie said gently. “You earned that.”

Judy looked down into her coffee, then leaned her head against Valerie’s hip again, that familiar calm settling back in. “Guess I better finish this cup and act like someone worth checking in on.”

Valerie grinned. “Babe, you were always worth it. Even before the coffee.”

They stayed like that for a while, sunlight stretching lazy across the floor, the scent of toast and fresh coffee curling through the room like a memory. Laughter still lingered, soft and unhurried, trailing behind their words. It wasn’t loud, or grand. Just love constant, grounded, and quietly undefeated.

Judy smiled at Valerie, the warmth in her eyes no longer dimmed by fatigue. “Maybe I should make another movie. Could help keep my mind steady give it something to hold on to.”

Valerie reached down, gently lifting Judy’s foot into her lap, her thumbs beginning a slow, careful massage. “You know I wouldn’t mind if you used More Than Skin Deep as the title.”

Judy let out a soft hum as the tension eased from her leg. “That’s your song, Val.”

Valerie moved her hands up to her calf, her touch firm but tender. “Sure. But it’s always been our story. And let’s be honest sounds a hell of a lot better than Still Yelling at Clouds.”

Judy laughed, the sound easing into a sigh of relief as Valerie’s hands worked deeper into the muscle. “Alright, alright. I guess we collaborate like always. I’ll use your title… and I’ll find the perfect moment to edit the song in.”

Valerie grinned, brushing her fingers along the arch of her foot. “Speaking of forgetting things… I may have blanked on a show we were hired for in Night City. Thankfully, the band bailed me out. I owe them a proper gig here.”

She shot Judy a teasing smirk. “Looks like we both have things to look forward to. But today… today’s ours.”

Judy lifted her other foot with a mischievous look. “This one’s still cold.”

Valerie chuckled, releasing the first foot and taking the second into her hands. She pressed a kiss to Judy’s toes, voice low and amused. “Then I better do this right.”

She started massaging again, gentle and slow.

Judy shifted closer, folding her legs behind her as she leaned in, her breath brushing Valerie’s lips.

“What do you want to do today?” Valerie asked softly.

Judy smiled against her mouth. “You.”

Then she kissed her slow, assured, and full of everything she’d found her way back to.

Valerie’s hands still cradled Judy’s foot when the kiss deepened no longer teasing, but lingering. Judy leaned into her with a quiet hunger, one hand sliding up Valerie’s thigh as if mapping her out again, relearning her with the pads of her fingers. No urgency. Just intent.

Valerie responded in kind, lips parting to let Judy in, her hands slipping around her waist, fingers brushing under the hem of her tank top. Judy’s skin was warm beneath her palms, soft with the weight of morning still on it.

Judy straddled her gently, letting her knees settle on either side of Valerie’s hips, their foreheads pressed together for a breath. She smiled something small but fierce in her eyes.

“You’re trouble,” she whispered.

Valerie smirked. “Takes one to love one.”

Judy leaned down, kissing a line along Valerie’s jaw, then lowered her lips finding the curve of her neck where the lotus tattoo lived. She kissed it slow, open-mouthed, her tongue just grazing the ink.

Valerie exhaled sharply, her hands sliding beneath Judy’s top, pushing it up inch by inch until Judy lifted her arms to let it go.

“Your hands,” Judy murmured, guiding them to her sides. “Always knew how to steady me.”

Valerie’s touch was reverent, thumbs tracing along Judy’s ribs, brushing under her breasts, then back down again like a song she never wanted to forget. She kissed the hollow of Judy’s throat, then lower, her mouth leaving soft, damp trails down her chest.

Judy’s back arched slightly, her fingers weaving through Valerie’s red hair. “Don’t stop,” she breathed, voice cracked open now, raw and real.

Valerie didn’t. She took her time, tracing slow circles with her tongue, pausing to nip at Judy’s skin each kiss building toward something molten but never rushed.

Judy shifted then, pushing Valerie gently onto her back, her hands guiding her with practiced grace. She leaned down and kissed Valerie’s lips again long, slow, devouring before dragging her mouth down her collarbone, following the ink that led across her chest and shoulder.

Her tongue flicked against the script tattooed under Valerie’s breast. Don’t tell me I’m dying.

“You’re more alive than anyone I’ve ever known,” Judy whispered there.

Valerie let out a soft sound, hands roaming Judy’s back, pulling her closer, needing her pressed tight. Judy responded, her rhythm teasing, grazing, kissing every part of her wife she could reach.

Heat swelled between them, but it wasn’t reckless it was layered, earned, full of knowing. Every moan was met with a smile. Every gasp, a grounding touch.

When Valerie finally rolled them over again, lips parted and flushed, she looked down at Judy with pure love burning behind her eyes.

“You feel like yourself again,” she whispered.

Judy reached up and tucked a strand of hair behind Valerie’s ear. “I feel like us again.”

Then they moved together with a slow, fluid, rhythm deeply familiar. Like music played without sound, like something sacred they never forgot how to speak.

Their bodies stayed close, skin against skin, the world outside their home fading until only breath and heartbeat remained. Valerie traced her fingers down the side of Judy’s torso, slow and deliberate, until her hand found the curve of her hip, holding her there close, steady, grounded.

Judy leaned up, lips brushing Valerie’s collarbone before rising to her throat. “Missed this,” she whispered, voice thick with emotion and heat.

Valerie cupped her jaw, eyes searching hers. “You have me. Always.”

Judy pulled her down into another kiss, this one deeper, wetter, their tongues meeting with slow, unhurried fire. Her hands slipped under Valerie’s top, tugging it free in a fluid motion, revealing the freckles she adored, the tattoos she’d memorized. Judy’s fingers brushed along the lotus that spread from shoulder to chest, her lips following with reverence.

She kissed along Valerie’s chest, then down across her ribs, soft little licks and flicks of tongue that drew gasps from Valerie’s throat. “You’re not the only one who remembers,” Judy said, her voice low and teasing. “You think I forgot how to make you sing?”

Valerie shivered, her back arching slightly. “You were always good with your hands. But your mouth?”

Judy’s eyes sparkled. “Legendary.”

She slid down slowly, teasing every inch of skin she passed, until she settled between Valerie’s thighs. Her kisses turned into slow, sensual worship, her tongue moving in a rhythm as old as their love. Valerie’s breath hitched, her hands fisting in the couch blanket, her legs tensing around Judy’s shoulders.

Their relays synced again, not overwhelming, just open. Valerie felt the echo of every touch, every flicker of joy and intimacy mirrored between them. Judy’s desire wasn’t just physical, it was emotional, whole. A woman reclaiming herself, and the bond they’d built.

When Valerie finally came undone, it wasn’t with a cry it was with Judy’s name whispered against her lips, her hands shaking as she pulled Judy back up to kiss her, needing her close.

They lay tangled together in the aftermath, hearts still racing, skin damp, smiles lazy and content.

Judy nuzzled into Valerie’s neck, her voice a warm murmur. “Still think I’m trouble?”

Valerie ran a hand down her back. “The best kind.”

Judy let out a soft laugh, then closed her eyes, her head tucked under Valerie’s chin. The quiet that settled afterward wasn’t empty, it was full. Of trust, love, and fire, cooled just enough to simmer between their skin.

Outside, the sun climbed higher in the sky. Inside, two souls now synced, now whole rested in the warmth they never stopped creating.

Valerie’s breathing was still soft against Judy’s temple, her chest rising in slow, steady rhythms as their bodies stayed tangled under the blanket. The quiet lingered, not heavy, but content.

Then, with a breathy chuckle, Valerie shifted slightly. “Alright,” she murmured, voice still husky with affection, “we’re definitely gonna start sticking to this couch.”

Judy let out a satisfied sigh, resting her chin on Valerie’s shoulder. “Maybe that’s not the worst way to go.”

Valerie kissed her lightly, then leaned back just enough to look her in the eyes. “As much as I’d love to stay here forever…” She trailed off, fingers brushing lightly over Judy’s thigh, then down to the waistband of her underwear.

“…these need to go,” she added, mischief creeping into her voice.

She stood slowly, tugging her own underwear in one fluid motion. With a playful wink, she glanced over her shoulder. “You want your shower steamy… or frigid toes?”

Judy arched a brow, already sliding off the couch with a stretch. “I’d say bring the steam, but if your hands go near my cold feet again…”

Valerie raised both hands in mock surrender. “No promises. You married a menace, remember?”

Judy laughed, padding softly behind her. “Yeah, but she’s my menace.”

Valerie gave her a sly look over her shoulder as they moved down the hall, hips swaying just a little extra. “You keep talking like that and I might get ideas.”

“Oh no,” Judy deadpanned. “Ideas. Whatever will I do.”

Valerie smirked. “Suffer. Gloriously.”

Judy gave her a gentle shove from behind. “You’ve been smug ever since I kissed your neck.”

“And you’ve been glowing ever since,” Valerie shot back, stepping backward toward the bathroom with mock swagger. “Admit it I’m your favorite spa treatment.”

Judy raised a brow. “Favorite? You’re my whole damn appointment book.”

They both broke into quiet laughter, the easy kind that lived in the center of their bond. By the time they reached the bathroom, the teasing gave way to something softer, something rooted.

Steam filled the bathroom before they even stepped in. Valerie turned on the water, letting it warm as she looked over at Judy, who stood at the sink, tracing her reflection not judging, just observing.

“Hey,” Valerie said gently, moving behind her again. “Still you.”

Judy nodded slowly, eyes softening as Valerie’s hands slid to her waist.

“I know.” She turned, slipping her arms around Valerie’s back. “I think I needed today. All of it.”

They stepped into the water, close as breath, no rush between them. Just skin, heat, and the shared quiet of two women learning how to hold forever without breaking.

They stepped into the water, close as breath, no rush between them. Just skin, heat, and the shared quiet of two women learning how to hold forever without breaking.

Valerie let the spray wash over her shoulders first, her eyes fluttering shut as the warmth seeped into tired muscles. Judy moved in behind her, wrapping her arms gently around her waist, pressing her cheek between Valerie’s shoulder blades.

Neither spoke.

There wasn’t a need.

Water trickled down between them, steam curling around the edges of the moment like it knew it wasn’t meant to be loud, just honest.

Valerie turned slowly, hands lifting to cradle Judy’s face. Drops clung to her skin, catching in the faint fuzz of her growing hair, sliding down her jaw. She was still so newly whole, still relearning her body’s rhythms, but she met Valerie’s gaze with nothing but surety.

“I missed this,” Judy said, voice low and warm, “the way you look at me. Like I’m the only thing in the world worth holding onto.”

Valerie smiled, brushing her thumbs just under Judy’s eyes. “You are.”

Judy leaned in, letting their foreheads touch beneath the falling water, her hands resting at the curve of Valerie’s hips. “It still feels different. Everything’s more… tuned. Like I can feel the weight of your breath when you exhale.”

Valerie nodded slowly. “That’s the relay sync. But it’s also you. Not just sensing the moment being in it.”

Judy tilted her head, kissed Valerie’s cheek, then trailed soft lips toward the space just under her jaw. “Then I’m not letting go of it.”

Valerie’s breath caught, her fingers sliding up to comb gently through the soft, damp growth starting to return across Judy’s scalp.

They shifted under the spray, hands moving in slow patterns across shoulders, arms, backs. Not for want, but for reverence. The kind of touch that said I still know you. I still see you.

Judy let out a slow sigh as Valerie took the soap and gently lathered it in her hands, then ran it across Judy’s shoulders, careful, patient. “You’ve always taken care of me.”

Valerie’s lips ghosted against her temple. “No. We take care of each other.”

They washed each other like it was a promise. Not some chore, but a ritual hands moving slow, fingers lingering longer in the places that ached. When they finally rinsed off, neither of them said a word.

There was no need to explain tenderness when it filled every breath between them.

Valerie reached for a towel, wrapping Judy in it first, then pressing another gently against her own skin.

“I’ve got you,” Valerie whispered, voice so soft it nearly disappeared into the steam.

Judy leaned forward, kissed the base of her throat. “I know you do”

Valerie grinned as she ruffled the towel through her hair, a few damp strands curling across her freckled cheeks. Judy stood nearby, swaddled in cotton and contentment, arms tucked beneath the towel as she leaned against the counter.

“What’s the plan now?” Valerie asked with a teasing lift of her brow. “We gonna lay in bed as naked burritos all day?”

Judy laughed, the sound soft and clear in the steamy air. “Sounds nice. But you know something we haven’t done in a while?”

Valerie reached for the linen closet, tilting her head. “What did I forget this time?”

“Nothing, guapa.” Judy tugged her towel tighter, stepping close to nudge her with a hip. “Was thinking a picnic out back on the dock, snuggled up with you reading me romance novels again sounded nice.”

Valerie paused, warmth flickering behind her eyes as she handed Judy a set of soft cotton lounge pants and a worn tank top from their shared “lazy day” pile. “The last time we did that was your birthday last year.”

“Yeah…” Judy pulled the shirt over her head, tugging it down over her still-damp skin. “We used to do it all the time. Back when we weren’t chasing convoy routes, fixing relay bugs, or putting out fires for every settlement north of Dust Bone.”

Valerie chuckled, slipping into a pair of joggers and a faded gray shirt that still smelled faintly of the cedar-lined closet. “Leading the Clan, helping Klamath Falls grow… it didn’t leave much time for just us.”

Judy stepped up behind her and rested her chin on Valerie’s shoulder, arms wrapping around her waist. “We’ve got time now, right?”

Valerie turned in her embrace, brushing her fingers down Judy’s cheek. “Yeah. We can have all the picnics you want now.”

“Good,” Judy whispered, kissing the corner of her mouth. “Because I want every single one.”

Valerie pressed their foreheads together. “You pick the book. I’ll grab the blanket and make something warm to drink. Sound good?”

“Perfect,” Judy murmured. “Don’t forget the sunscreen. Not trying to fry this beautiful bald head.”

Valerie snorted a laugh. “Never. I got you covered, literally and figuratively.”

They kissed once more, then padded barefoot out of the bedroom, their laughter trailing behind them like sunlight through steam. It was still morning, still theirs, and the dock was waiting.

The kitchen hummed with soft life as Valerie moved about with practiced ease, pulling down the worn picnic basket from atop the pantry shelf. Its wicker edges were frayed in places from years of use, each scuff a memory: birthdays, lazy afternoons, even the first summer after they adopted Sera, when she insisted they pack “a thousand snacks” just in case.

Judy leaned against the counter sun screen glistening off her scalp, watching Valerie with a quiet, affectionate smile. “You going for gourmet or comfort today?”

Valerie opened the fridge with a grin. “A bit of both. I’ve got that leftover miso broth, some tofu, fresh scallions and I'm thinking of some leftover ramen in thermoses. Toasted sandwiches for backup. Something warm, something crisp.”

Judy chuckled. “You always know how to make survival taste like a five-star meal.”

Valerie looked over her shoulder. “Hey, I lived off kibble and scavenged supplies during my merc days. I earned the right to be picky now.”

Judy grabbed a couple mugs from the drying rack, filled them with water, and popped a pair of blooming tea bulbs into each watching the petals unfurl slowly like tiny stories in porcelain. “You want to bring music, or let the lake speak?”

Valerie closed the sandwich press with a click. “Let the lake speak. But maybe my guitar too… just in case the mood strikes.”

Judy nodded, glancing out the window as light poured through, dappling across the wood floor. The dock stretched out like a promise beneath a sky painted in soft morning blue, clouds barely whispering at the edges.

Valerie tucked the last cloth napkin into the basket, the purple lotus stitching catching a glint of morning light. Steam curled from the thermoses nestled beside the wrapped sandwiches and blooming tea mugs. She reached for her guitar case, slinging it over one shoulder as she turned toward Judy with a smile.

Judy stood near the doorway, her worn tank top hanging loose over soft cotton lounge pants. There was something quietly radiant about her no grand gestures, just the way she held herself again. Whole. Present.

Valerie stepped up beside her, handing off the blanket folded under her arm. “You sure you’re up for a walk?”

Judy gave a faint smile, the kind that lived in the corners of her eyes. “If it’s to the dock with you? Always.”

They stepped out onto the deck together, barefoot. The planks were warm from the early sun, the air crisp with the scent of pine and lakewater. A soft breeze curled through Judy’s short fuzz of hair, and she tilted her face into it.

The grassy slope welcomed them gently, dewdrops brushing at their ankles as they moved down toward the dock. It stretched like an old friend, weathered boards whispering with each step.

Valerie carried the basket carefully in both hands while Judy held the blanket pressed to her chest. When they reached the end, Judy crouched to spread it across the dock, smoothing the corners with the kind of tenderness that never needed words.

Valerie lowered the basket beside her, setting the guitar case against the railing. She gave a playful nudge with her shoulder. “Alright, babe. What book did you sneak in this time?”

Judy pulled the well-loved novel from under the blanket, holding it up like a secret treasure. “Hearts Like Rust.”

Valerie let out a knowing laugh. “The biker and the runaway. You’re feeling nostalgic.”

Judy grinned. “Figured it was time for a little old-school soft chaos. Something with a pulse.”

Valerie settled beside her, one leg tucked beneath the other. “Sounds like us.”

Judy opened the book to the first page, pausing just long enough to look sideways at her. “Yeah. Only with better sandwiches.”

Valerie laughed softly, leaned in close, and let the stillness wrap around them as Judy began to read their voices, their breath, and the lake all moving in time.

Judy’s voice dipped low as she read, each word laced with a quiet rhythm, like the lake itself had slowed to listen.

“She didn’t expect to find kindness in the ruins. But there he stood, a bruised knuckle held out, offering something she hadn’t seen in years trust without conditions.”

Valerie leaned back against the dock , eyes half-lidded, letting the sun warm her freckled skin. Her hand found Judy’s beneath the blanket, fingers slipping between her wife’s with easy certainty. They didn’t have to look at each other to feel connected. The sync was subtle now, just a low background hum between their relays soft pulses of calm and affection passing back and forth like old habits rediscovered.

Judy turned the page with one hand, the other tightening around Valerie’s. “You remember the first time I read this to you?”

Valerie cracked an eye open, her mouth lifting in a faint grin. “Back in Arizona. Just after Sera joined the Aldecaldos.”

Judy nodded. “We’d barely slept. Still carrying dust and bruises from that firefight.”

Valerie’s grin widened. “You were stubborn as hell. Sat on that busted couch in the med bay, legs over mine, reading this book like we weren’t still bleeding.”

Judy shrugged, eyes twinkling. “You needed a distraction.”

“You were the distraction,” Valerie said softly. “Still are.”

Judy flushed slightly but didn’t stop reading. The wind tugged at the edges of the blanket, but Valerie reached out and tucked it closer around them both without missing a beat.

They stayed like that through a few more chapters, tea cooling slowly beside them, the lake stretching endless and quiet. The words Judy read began to blur, less important than the voice carrying them. It wasn’t about the story anymore. It was about the way Valerie’s breath slowed to match the cadence, how Judy’s fingers never once let go, how time stopped asking questions.

When she paused again, Judy let the book fall lightly against her chest. “Can’t remember the last time it felt this easy.”

Valerie kissed her temple, lips barely brushing skin. “Then let’s not forget this one.”

Judy looked up at her, head resting against her shoulder. “We should do this every week again.”

Valerie’s hand found its way to her cheek, thumb tracing the gentle curve beneath her eye. “We will.”

Their eyes lingered on each other, the kind of gaze that didn’t search for anything just held. The lake lapped beneath them. The sky rolled slowly overhead, and in that soft, steady moment, there was nothing to fix. Nothing to fear.

Judy leaned against Valerie, her breath steady, her cheek warm against the soft fabric of Valerie’s shirt. Valerie adjusted slightly, one arm wrapping tighter around her wife’s waist, the other resting palm-flat against the dock beneath them. The lake glimmered ahead, catching sunlight like it had been waiting just for them.

No show of defiance, or need to prove anything.

Just Judy settled into the life she chose. Still herself, still tethered to the woman beside her.

Valerie’s thumb brushed lightly along the curve of Judy’s wrist.

They didn’t speak for a while. They didn’t have to.

Because this was still their world. Built piece by piece. Quiet, steady, and real.

The lake remained still, a mirror for the sky. Sunlight glinted off its surface in scattered diamonds while the gentle rhythm of water brushing the dock played soft beneath the quiet.

Valerie leaned on one elbow, the other hand dipping into the picnic basket. She pulled free a ripe strawberry and held it between her fingers just above Judy’s lips. “Say ah,” she murmured with a playful smirk.

Judy arched a brow but obliged, biting the fruit cleanly, then licking a drop of juice from her lip. “You spoiling me, guapa?”

Valerie hummed, reaching for another piece this time a thin slice of mango. She let it graze lightly along Judy’s lower lip before feeding it to her. “Just taking care of my girl.”

Judy’s head rested against her shoulder, content and unhurried. She tilted her chin just slightly to look up at her. “You’re glowing.”

Valerie smiled, soft and open. “I still remember after Mikoshi… you sent me that video. Your voice was trembling the whole time, but you did it. Told me you loved me like it was the first time.”

Judy let out a breathy laugh, cheeks dimpling. “I was terrified. We were already married and everything, and still… it didn’t feel real yet. Like it’d all disappear if I blinked too long.”

Valerie’s gaze turned a little inward, her hand finding another slice of fruit, this time more slowly. “I remember the first time I fell apart in front of you. Right after I got my body back… after the fight to reclaim myself. I asked if it was okay to see two of you. You said yes without blinking. Then you cradled me in your lap, made motorcycle noises to distract me, and fed me burnt toaster marshmallows.” She smiled faintly, passing the fruit to Judy. “I could barely lift my hand. You never flinched.”

Judy took the mango slice gently, chewing as she let the moment settle. Her voice was soft when she spoke. “Panam helped us both get through those months in Arizona. I remember the long drives, when your body barely held you up and I’d hold onto you like I could anchor your soul with just my hands.”

She swallowed hard, eyes flickering to the water. “There were nights I’d clutch you so tight, begging you to wake up. Just once more. And Panam… she never left. Always asking how to help. Always showing up when I needed to scream or collapse.”

Valerie reached up, brushing her fingers through the fuzz still soft along Judy’s scalp. “She held me too, you know. When you weren’t there too. The night after I collapsed by the firepit she was the one who called you.”

Judy nodded slowly. “She was our bridge when we didn’t know if we’d make it to the other side.”

Valerie smiled again, but this time it was quieter, filled with history and warmth. “And now look at us. Back here. Still tangled in each other.”

Judy grinned, eyes shining. “Tangled’s a good word. I’m pretty sure you’re sitting on half my tank top.”

Valerie laughed, leaned over to kiss her forehead. “Don’t need it. You’re radiant enough.”

Judy whispered, “Told you. Pink for love, green for growth.”

Valerie picked one last piece of fruit this time a cherry, and held it above Judy’s lips like a promise. “And always us. No matter what shade we wear.”

Valerie shifted slightly, adjusting the blanket around them as the sun crept higher above the lake. Judy didn’t move much, just nestled in closer, her head tucked into the hollow between Valerie’s neck and shoulder, one hand resting lightly over Valerie’s heartbeat.

The warmth between them was easy. Familiar. Like nothing needed to be explained anymore.

Valerie’s fingers skimmed over the worn edge of the book still sitting beside the picnic basket. She picked it up again, tapping her thumb against the spine. “Hey,” she said quietly, brushing her lips against Judy’s temple, “you want me to keep reading for a bit?”

Judy smiled without opening her eyes. “Mmm. You always keep spoiling me.”

Valerie chuckled. “Damn right I do.” She flipped to the marked page and cleared her throat softly, not for performance, just to carry the words between them.

Her voice flowed in a low, rhythmic cadence, not too polished, not too careful just her. Just a woman reading to the love of her life under an open sky.

“She leaned against the rusted fence, wind curling her hair like a promise undone. The road ahead was all red dust and vanishing lines, but she wasn’t afraid. Not anymore. Because the woman who had walked into her life like a wildfire now stood beside her, and every broken piece had found a place to rest.”

Judy stirred slightly, her thumb tracing slow circles over Valerie’s side. “That line always gets me,” she murmured, voice muffled against skin. “Like it was written just for us.”

Valerie closed the book gently, her fingers lingering on the cover. “Maybe it was. Or maybe we’ve just lived enough to make every story feel like ours.”

Judy tilted her head to look up at her. “Both.”

There was a pause. Soft wind. Birdsong somewhere in the pine. The creak of the dock sounded beneath them like an old lullaby.

Valerie reached over, set the book aside with care. “I’ve got something else for you,” she said, her voice a touch more serious now, but still warm. “Not rehearsed. Not even written. Just something I need to play for you. Straight from here.” She placed a hand gently over her heart.

Judy’s lips curved as she watched her. “Your heart always had the best setlist.”

Valerie kissed her once soft, brief, but full of everything that had ever mattered between them.

“Then stay close, babe. Because I think this one’s just for you.”

Judy slowly stood, stretching out her legs before turning to offer Valerie her hand. The sun caught on her gold wedding band as she smiled soft, grounded, knowing.

Valerie took it, rising with her, fingers laced in quiet trust. She leaned down and opened the guitar case, lifting the silver-bodied instrument with practiced care, its purple inlays catching the light like scattered memories.

They moved to the edge of the dock, barefoot, shoulder to shoulder. Judy sat first, cross-legged, resting her chin on her hands, her eyes never leaving Valerie. The lake shimmered behind them, glassy and still.

Valerie cradled the guitar in her lap and adjusted the strap over her shoulder. She didn’t test the strings or clear her throat. She just let out a soft breath, one that trembled slightly at the edge, and then began to play.

Each chord was warm, imperfect, but real drawn straight from a place beyond preparation.

Then, her voice:
“I saw a heart that was broken
Felt the storm behind her stare
But in her pain, I saw something golden
A beauty most wouldn’t dare…”

Judy’s breath caught quietly, her hand lifting to her collarbone. Valerie didn’t look at her yet just kept singing, fingers steady over strings.

“She didn't know how much more she could take
But I reached out through her ache
Took her hand and softly said:
‘I’ll do whatever it takes…
To bring a smile to your face.’”

A tear slid down Judy’s cheek not from sadness, but recognition. She mouthed the words back, barely audible: you did.

“She looked at me, lips breaking with laughter
Placed her hand against my chest
No promises, no ever after
Just eyes that said, ‘Try your best.’”

Valerie’s voice wavered slightly here. She blinked hard, kept her strumming smooth as her throat tightened.

“So I kissed the hurt, held the flame
Built a life where love had a name
Told her, ‘You don’t have to be okay
I’ll love you anyway.’”

Judy’s arms wrapped around her knees, tears falling freely now, but her smile never faded.

“Judy, you are my fire
What my heart desires
Every morning next to you
Feels like a dream with love this true…”

Valerie finally looked up, eyes meeting Judy’s. Her voice didn’t rise, it sank deeper. Intimate.

“No chrome, no wires, just skin and soul
You’re the only thing that makes me whole
Judy, you’re the reason I stay
You turn my night into day…”

Judy laughed softly through the tears, whispering, “Still got it, guapa…”

“We’ve walked through hell and back again
Lost too much to count or mend
But even when the silence screams
You’re the answer in my dreams…”

Judy’s lips parted, breath shallow. Her hand pressed over her heart.

“You're the laugh that saves my fall
The quiet voice when I lose it all
And still I’d do it all again
Just to see you smile, my friend…”

Valerie’s voice cracked again. Not broken, just full. She didn’t stop.

“Judy, you are my fire
What my heart desires
Every morning next to you
Feels like a dream with love this true…”

She took a small breath, wiped at her cheek with her shoulder, eyes glistening.

“When the world burns, I’ll hold the line
Just to see those eyes meet mine
Judy, you’re the light I chase
You’re the home I can’t replace…”

Judy mouthed I love you before Valerie reached the final verses.

“I never needed saving, just a place to land
You gave me more you took my hand
And when I shake, when I fall apart
You’re still the calm inside my heart…”

Her fingers slowed just slightly, the music tapering gently as her voice fell into a whisper meant only for the woman in front of her.

“Judy, you are my fire
What my soul requires
With you, I’ve found what’s real and right
The stars that blaze through darkest night
You're my reason, you're my grace
And I’ll keep chasing your face
Judy, you’re my every day
In your love…
I’ll always stay.”

The last chord lingered between them like breath.

Judy didn’t say anything at first. She just got up slowly and crossed the small space between them, lowering herself into Valerie’s chest, arms winding around her neck.

She pressed her forehead against hers, eyes still shining.

“That was the most beautiful thing you’ve ever given me,” she whispered. “You know that, right?”

Valerie nodded, tears slipping down her cheeks, a smile tucked into her lips.

“Then I’ll just have to keep writing,” she whispered back.

Judy leaned in, her forehead resting against Valerie’s for one long breath before she kissed her slow, soft, and certain. A kiss not of urgency, but of anchoring. A kiss that said I see you. I feel you. I’m here.

When they parted, Valerie smiled into the space between them, then carefully set the guitar down in its case beside the basket. Her fingers lingered on the latch for a second before she turned back to Judy.

She extended a hand toward her. “Come lay down with me,” she said gently.

Judy didn’t hesitate. She took Valerie’s hand and let herself be guided down onto the sun-warmed blanket stretched across the dock. Valerie lay back first, her hair fanned out over the edge of a pillow. Judy followed, curling into her side with the ease of a rhythm long known and rediscovered.

The lake lapped softly below them, water catching slivers of light. A gull cried far off in the distance, and the wind stirred through the trees, whispering like an old lullaby.

Valerie wrapped an arm around Judy’s waist, fingers settling just under the hem of her tank top, tracing absentminded shapes against her skin.

Judy’s voice came quiet, close to her ear. “You really meant every word of that song, didn’t you?”

Valerie nodded, lips brushing the top of her head. “Every breath of it.”

Judy nestled closer. “Even the line about holding the line when the world burns?”

Valerie smiled. “Especially that one.”

A pause passed between them, but it wasn’t silence. It was filled with everything they didn’t need to say. With every fight they’d come through. With every second they’d earned.

“Then we’re not just surviving anymore,” Judy whispered, her hand sliding to rest over Valerie’s heart. “We’re living.”

Valerie’s eyes fluttered shut. “Yeah,” she breathed. “We really are.”

And so they lay there, in the golden hush of afternoon, where time slowed and the world felt smaller. Just the dock. The lake. And two souls learning how to live all over again together.

Valerie wraps her fingers around Judy. "Hey Jude ever think about what made us worth saving?"

Judy slightly confused. "What's on your mind, mi amor?"

Valerie deep in thought. "The way Ghost Watch talks how they can see various timelines about our lives. Different versions of us that never got a chance at this. What did we do differently that made us worth having our forever after?”

Judy shifted slightly, her cheek brushing against Valerie’s collarbone. She was quiet for a few seconds, letting the question settle, letting the wind speak through the trees before her voice came, low and thoughtful.

“I think about that sometimes,” she admitted. “Especially since you came back. Since we came back. How close we were to losing it all more than once.”

Valerie tightened her hold, thumb brushing slow circles against Judy’s hip. “Maybe we didn’t do anything special. Maybe we just kept choosing each other.”

Judy hummed softly. “You think that’s all it takes? Just… choosing?”

Valerie tilted her head, resting her chin gently against the crown of Judy’s scalp. “I think when the world kept trying to make us break, we didn’t. That’s not something you measure in credits or kill counts. That’s just love. Raw and ugly and patient.”

Judy closed her eyes. “You remember after Mikoshi, when I used to sit with you for hours while you just… drifted? You didn’t even know I was there most of the time.”

“I knew,” Valerie said quietly. “Maybe not with my mind, but somewhere deeper.”

“I kept whispering stories to you,” Judy went on, her voice growing thick with memory. “Even made up a few. You always rolled your eyes when I made shit up, but it felt like the only way to fill the silence. The only way to feel like I hadn’t lost you.”

Valerie’s voice cracked, soft and steady. “That’s what made us worth saving, Jude. You never let go of me. Even when I was barely a flicker.”

Judy lifted her head slightly to meet Valerie’s gaze. “Then maybe that’s the difference. In all those timelines, maybe someone gave up a little too soon. Or didn’t say the thing that mattered. Or just never reached back.”

Valerie nodded, her emerald eyes shining. “But we did. Every time. No matter how scared. No matter how broken.”

A silence fell again, not heavy but reverent. The kind that only exists between two people who’ve bled for their love and bled to keep it.

Judy’s fingers slid up Valerie’s chest to rest just above the tattooed lyrics beneath her left breast. Don’t tell me I’m dying. Her voice dropped to a whisper. “Even when we were both fading, we found a way back.”

Valerie kissed her forehead. “I think that’s what Ghost Watch saw. Not that we were perfect. Just… that we were willing. To fight. To forgive. To keep going.”

Judy exhaled slowly, her breath warm against Valerie’s skin. “Then I hope all those other versions of us… I hope they find their way too.”

Valerie stared up at the open sky. “Yeah. But I’m glad we’re this one. The one where I get to hold you.”

Judy nestled in closer. “Me too.”

Laying on the dock with the world stretched wide around them, they let the question hang not as a burden, but as a truth. They didn’t have every answer. But they had this, and that had always been enough.

Judy still nestled close, her head resting gently on Valerie’s chest. The sound of their breathing mingled with the soft rustling of the wind through the trees, as if the world was holding its breath around them.

“Do you remember the Heart of Laguna Bend?” Judy asked softly, her voice a quiet whisper in the calm of the afternoon.

Valerie smiled, her fingers tracing slow patterns along Judy’s back. “That old necklace I found? Yeah, I remember. That was the moment my heart opened. But… I was thinking about it, too. If you only knew that you were the heart of Laguna Bend.”

Judy lifted her head, meeting Valerie’s gaze, her dark eyes glimmering with something deeper. She ran a hand tenderly across Valerie’s cheek, brushing away a stray lock of hair. “I felt your heart through the sync. Right after you passed out in that old chapel… scared me half to death.”

Valerie’s fingers brushed gently over the lines of Judy’s shoulders, pulling her closer. “You saved me, Jude. You pulled me out of that lake. I’m here because of you.”

Judy took a breath, her gaze flicking to the lake beyond, as if the stillness there could offer her comfort. “Even though the sync was still experimental… I still felt your relic malfunction so strongly. That’s what broke me. I lost it in the bathroom that day. Watching you hurt like that… it felt like the whole world was slipping away.”

Valerie’s expression softened, her thumb caressing Judy’s hand. “You told me about Clouds, and how much it hurt knowing you hurt your friends. I remember you wanted our day to be just ours no worries, no outside world crashing in.”

Judy smiled softly, her fingers tracing Valerie’s collarbone. “You told me it was our day, that I would always be your Belle from Laguna Bend.”

Valerie’s eyes brightened with warmth, her heart beating just a little faster. “And I meant it. You took my hand, and our friendship blossomed. And then, when we finally made love for the first time, all those unspoken words disappeared, and we both realized we were in love.”

Judy’s smile deepened, her voice hushed with affection. “I knew, Val. Even before the Heist, before everything went sideways. I knew. It wasn’t just in how we became friends it was in how you treated me. You never pushed. You let me feel safe, just being me. No expectations. It made me feel like I was finally allowed to be real.”

Valerie’s breath hitched. Her fingers intertwined with Judy’s. “My mercenary life… it always took so much from me. Helping people without ever asking for anything in return. But you… you were the only person I could talk to, the only one I felt safe sharing my burdens with.”

Judy caressed the back of Valerie’s hand, her voice quiet but steady. “Same for me. Suzie… she’d always give me shit, made me feel small. I’d call Grams every night, tell her about the pain, about the things I couldn’t talk about with anyone else. She always smiled when I told her about you. When I called her less, because you were there to listen. My talks with her… they became more about you than about my pain.”

Valerie smiled, the warmth spreading through her chest. “I guess we have our shitty exes to thank for breaking our hearts. If it hadn’t been for them, we might never have met.”

Judy’s lips curled into a mischievous smile, her eyes glinting with a playful edge. “Fuck you, Maiko. But… still, without you? My life would’ve never changed.”

She paused, her gaze shifting to meet Valerie’s more seriously, her voice low and filled with emotion. “Hey, Val?”

Valerie’s eyes softened, her thumb brushing Judy’s knuckles as she gazed back at her. “Yeah, Jude?”

Judy exhaled slowly, taking a moment to let her thoughts settle. “I feel like all my pieces are back now. I kept them every single one, even the painful ones. Because that pain, and everything we survived, that’s what made our love this strong. Feel this real.”

Valerie’s heart swelled, her emotions shifting into something deeper, something more rooted. She leaned in, pressing her forehead gently against Judy’s. “It’s still going to get stronger, Jude. I love you. No matter what. No matter the pain… it’s always worth it holding you like this.”

Judy’s eyes softened, her fingers tracing over Valerie’s arm as she settled closer, the two of them just breathing in the quiet, and the weight of the moment together. Their hearts intertwined in a silent promise no more pain too big, no distance too great to stop them.

They stayed there, wrapped in the peace they fought for, the world around them waiting, but for now, not needing to intrude. Just love, and the quiet, steady beat of it between them.

Judy shifted slightly, the calm broken only by the soft twitch of her fingers as they rested against Valerie’s skin.

Valerie noticed and gently brushed her hand against Judy’s forhead, tilting her head. “You okay?”

Judy’s voice was soft, almost hesitant. “Head’s just ringing… Still feels weird, having my memories pulled like that, forming the Engram of me.”

Valerie steadied her with a gentle touch, her heart aching at the vulnerability in Judy’s tone. “I don’t even remember it happening to me. Just woke up, seeing Alt, and Johnny in that… digital void.”

Judy’s fingers twitched again, and she closed her eyes, her expression showing the subtle strain of the process. “You don’t have to fight it anymore, Jude.”

Judy smiled weakly, her breath still shallow. “At least my body pillow is still warm.”

Valerie leaned in, her voice filled with warmth and understanding. “You just rest now, okay?”

Judy nodded slightly, her eyes flickering, then closing for a moment. Valerie noticed the slight tremor in her body, the way her eyes darted beneath her eyelids as the faint flicker of residual instability passed.

“Hey, Jude…” Valerie said softly, her gaze full of concern, “We should get you inside. You need something for your head, get you out of the sun for a bit.”

Valerie carefully pulled herself from their shared blanket hold, her hands gentle as she shifted her position. She stood slowly, moving with purpose as she reached down, wrapping the blanket around Judy and lifting her carefully.

Judy smiled faintly, her eyes looking up at Valerie with tenderness. “You really like carrying me, huh, mi amor?”

Valerie’s smile grew, her heart swelling with affection. “Just relax, Jude. Let me take care of you.”

With her gentle care, Valerie carried Judy up the slope, past the deck and toward the kitchen. The soft weight of Judy in her arms, the familiar warmth of her body, felt like a quiet affirmation of everything they had built together.

When they reached the bedroom, Valerie carefully laid Judy down on the bed, her fingers lingering for just a moment as she brushed Judy’s forehead.

Valerie stepped away briefly, moving toward the bathroom. She came back moments later with a glass of water and a few headache pills, her movements fluid and practiced as she gently offered them to Judy.

Judy accepted them quietly, her fingers brushing Valerie’s as she took the glass, a quiet smile playing on her lips.

Once Judy had taken the pills, Valerie sat beside her, leaning in to check on her. “You feeling okay now?”

Judy nodded, her eyes blinking slowly as she let the relief settle into her bones. “Yeah. Just the head stuff... but it’s getting better.”

Valerie smiled, brushing a stray piece of hair from Judy’s face as she helped her get settled again. “Good,” she whispered, her voice full of quiet love.

After a moment of peace, Valerie stood and stepped out of the room, gathering the things from the dock.

Judy's eyes softened as she let out a slow, steady breath, her gaze drifting over the pictures on the wall. The memories anchored her, grounding her in something that felt real even when her mind felt like it was floating in a haze.

She reached out for one of the old Polaroids, the image blurry at the edges but still clear enough to see the joy in their faces. The photo was taken along the Pacifica coastline, the wind caught in their hair, and Valerie’s bright smile as she leaned on her matte black Racer. Judy remembered it like it was yesterday Valerie had just gotten it, the bike she’d been dreaming of, and the first thing she wanted to do was take Judy out for a ride.

The image flickered in Judy’s mind. The sound of the engine roaring to life, the feel of the bike beneath them as they sped down the coastline with no destination in mind. Just the wind in their hair and each other beside them.

Judy’s fingers brushed lightly over the photo before moving to another, the booth at Lizzie’s. The moment they had become a couple, no pretenses, just them, sitting there in the quiet glow of the bar after the noise had faded. Valerie had taken her out for their first real date. Judy still remembered the sound of Valerie’s voice, her teasing smile as they exchanged stories about how Valerie was going through hell at the time, but none of it showed. She just walked beside Judy, strong, confident, and full of life, and somehow, despite the chaos, they’d found each other.

Another breath. Another wave of nostalgia.

She let the Polaroid fall back into place, her eyes drifting to the next photo of them taken on another day that felt far too long ago, and yet so close. Valerie sat beside her, laughing under the glow of the streetlight as they waited on a bench, sharing a quiet moment on a corner somewhere in the city. A time before the weight of everything they’d carried had settled on their shoulders.

A time when the world outside didn’t feel so heavy.

Judy’s thoughts drifted for a moment, and she exhaled, her chest tight. The ringing in her head was still there, a constant hum, but it was bearable now. The images of their life together grounded her in ways she hadn’t expected, each memory softening the edges of the disorientation.

She looked up as Valerie stepped back into the room, the book tucked neatly under her arm. Judy’s eyes followed her every movement, a smile tugging at the corner of her lips.

Valerie slid onto the bed next to her, the familiar scent of her filling the air. “Feeling better?”

Judy nodded, her hand still resting against the pictures. “Still ringing, but feeling calmer.”

Valerie placed the book in her lap, her eyes searching Judy’s face. “You sure?”

Judy gave her a faint smile, her eyes soft. “Yeah, just… a lot to process. But being here with you makes it easier. You’re my anchor, Val.”

Valerie’s smile deepened, her voice gentle. “We’ve always been each other’s anchor. You don’t have to go through this alone, Jude.”

Judy let out a soft laugh, her body relaxing as Valerie sat closer. The weight of the day and everything that had come before it started to fade away, replaced with the comforting presence of the woman beside her.

Valerie opened the book, her eyes skimming over the words. She glanced over at Judy, offering a playful smirk. “So, where were we?”

Judy leaned back into Valerie, her head resting against her shoulder. “Right here. With you, where I belong.”

Valerie chuckled, turning the page. “Guess I can live with that.”

Together, they sank into the quiet, the world outside still waiting, but for now, it was just the two of them. Wrapped in love, in memories, in the simple comfort of each other’s presence. And for Judy, that was enough for now. Enough to heal, to rebuild, and to move forward.

Chapter Text

The book lay open on Valerie’s lap, its pages untouched for the last several minutes. Judy hadn’t moved far, still curled close, her head resting beneath Valerie’s collarbone, one leg draped lazily over her wife's.

“You drifting?” Valerie asked, her voice low, eyes watching the slow rise and fall of Judy’s breath.

Judy smiled against her skin, eyes still half-lidded. “Halfway. Thinking. Feeling. Letting it all breathe.”

Valerie kissed the top of her head, lips brushing the warm fuzz that had begun to regrow. “Is there anything I can do?”

Judy shifted slightly, her arm sliding around Valerie’s waist, anchoring herself there with the kind of ease that only came from years of trust. “You’re already doing it,” she said, her voice softened by the peace between them.

The quiet that followed wasn’t silent, it was full of slow heartbeats and long history. Judy’s fingers brushed idle patterns along Valerie’s side, not restless, just present.

“You ever think about what the next version of us looks like?” she asked, lifting her gaze to meet Valerie’s. Her eyes were steady, dark and full of something searching, but unafraid.

Valerie didn’t answer right away. She reached out, tucked a loose strand behind Judy’s ear, her thumb trailing lightly down her cheek. “You mean where we’ll be in five years? Or another life?”

“This one,” Judy murmured. “The one we actually get to keep.”

Valerie let her eyes drift toward the window, the late sun stretching shadows across the floor like gentle reminders of time. “I see quiet evenings. Sera and Sandra laughing from the deck. Maybe Killjoy drops by with a bottle he swears is good. You’re across from me, editing your next movie. I’m halfway through a song I’ll never finish because I keep watching you instead.”

Judy’s lips pulled into a soft smile, the kind that lived behind the eyes. “And you’ll pretend you’re not watching until I catch you.”

“Wouldn’t be pretending,” Valerie said, leaning in close, her forehead resting against Judy’s. “Some things don’t need to change.”

“You think we’ll really hold this?” Judy asked, her voice quieter now, not from fear, but from the weight of wanting to believe it.

Valerie nodded, slow and certain, her hand finding Judy’s again. “We already are. Even when the world pulled at us, even when we unraveled… we never let go.”

Judy let her eyes close for a moment, letting those words settle deep. “It’s all I ever wanted. Not perfection. Just someone who stays.”

Valerie smiled, pressing her lips gently to the bridge of Judy’s nose. “Then we’re right where we’re meant to be.”

They lay like that for a while, warmth pressed to warmth, the sounds of the house low and steady around them. Afternoon shifted toward evening outside, but the rhythm between them didn’t change. Judy stirred eventually, stretching her leg, the blanket slipping lower over her thigh.

“Alright,” she said with a sigh that tasted more like contentment than exhaustion, “I vote we go slow-cook something. I want garlic, something rich. Something that smells like home.”

Valerie raised a brow as she sat up beside her, her eyes sweeping over Judy’s face with a grin. “You craving comfort food, or just looking for an excuse to watch me chop vegetables?”

Judy leaned in and kissed her, slow and assured. “How about you just reheat the ramen. Don’t forget about the eggs this time.”

Valerie laughed quietly, brushing her fingers through the small strands of Judy's hair. “You sit at the counter and look pretty. I’ll handle dinner.”

“I always look pretty,” Judy said, already stretching toward the edge of the bed, her joints popping with that familiar grace of someone still healing but no longer broken.

They moved together toward the kitchen, barefoot, hips brushing as they passed through the doorway. The last of the sun warmed the countertops in quiet gold, and the house moved with them not loud, not restless.

Valerie reached for the chopping board, Judy for the tea kettle. Outside, the lake caught the first shimmer of dusk.

Neither of them needed to speak to feel what was already understood. They were still building this life. Still choosing each other.

The kitchen filled slowly with the low, grounding rhythm of home. Judy slid onto the barstool by the counter, one leg tucked under her, her cheek propped against her hand as she watched Valerie move with quiet purpose. She didn’t speak and didn't need to. The soft clink of the knife against the cutting board, the steam curling from the ramen thermos as it poured into the ceramic pot, the way Valerie’s freckled fingers traced the edge of the scallions before slicing. It all said enough.

Judy tilted her head slightly, dark brown eyes tracking the flex of Valerie’s arm as she stirred the broth. “You know, watching you cook’s almost unfair.”

Valerie glanced up, a wry smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth. “Almost?”

Judy leaned forward, chin resting on her palm, eyes tracing Valerie as she moved around the kitchen. “Your hair’s still all messy from lying in bed reading to me… and you’re still the best damn thing in this whole kitchen, mi amor.”

Valerie chuckled under her breath, brushing a strand of hair back with the back of her wrist. “You keep flirting with me like that and I’m gonna forget to watch the eggs.”

“I’m willing to risk it,” Judy said, her voice dropping into a playful rasp.

Valerie set the pan aside just long enough to lean in, forearm braced beside Judy on the counter. Her emerald eyes caught the light as she met her wife's gaze, steady and amused. “You hungry or just in the mood to stir trouble?”

Judy’s lip curled into a slow smile. “Mmm stirring sounds nice.”

The grin that broke across Valerie’s face was all soft edge. She kissed Judy’s temple, then returned to the stove, fingers nimble as she layered tofu, miso broth, and egg over ramen, the scent of garlic and soy warming the air.

Judy let herself sink into the quiet for a moment, head resting sideways on the counter as she traced the edge of her mug with one finger. “I missed this,” she said softly. “You. This. The normal.”

Valerie glanced over her shoulder, voice low but sure. “This is still normal, Jude. It always was. Just got buried under all the fighting.”

Judy nodded, eyes lingering on the back of Valerie’s neck, where her lotus tattoo curled up just beneath the neural ports. “Yeah… and now we’re unburying it. One garlic clove at a time.”

Valerie didn’t say anything right away. She just set a steaming bowl in front of Judy, added a toasted sandwich beside it, and slid the second bowl across to her side. Then she circled the counter and sat beside her, their knees brushing.

Judy looked down at the food, then back at her. “You remembered the jalapeño butter.”

Valerie nudged her with a shoulder, her voice a touch more playful. “You think I’d forget how you used to whine without it?”

Judy chuckled, warm and full, the kind of laugh that lifted her shoulders. “I didn’t whine. I critiqued.”

Valerie tilted her head, eyes narrowing playfully as she set her spoon down with slow exaggeration. “You pouted.”

Judy raised her brow, lips curving into a mock-offended smirk. “I provided useful feedback.”

Valerie gave her a long look, one brow arched high as she finally dipped her spoon back into the broth. “Uh-huh,” she said, voice dripping with amused disbelief, her leg nudging lightly against Judy’s under the counter.

They ate slowly, with that kind of comfort only long love brings the way the meal settled into their bones, the way Judy curled one foot up onto the stool’s rung and leaned into Valerie without realizing it. The way Valerie’s hand found Judy’s knee under the counter, grounding and soft. Just skin, just warmth.

Judy slurped a noodle, then paused mid-bite, eyes thoughtful. “When was the last time we just… sat like this? No mission, no convoy route, no emergency call from Dante about something catching fire?”

Valerie wiped the corner of her mouth with a napkin, her voice quiet. “Maybe back in Arizona. Before we brought Sera home. Before it all got loud again.”

Judy leaned her head against Valerie’s shoulder. “We should make this a thing. Every week. No matter what.”

“We will,” Valerie murmured, her thumb brushing slow circles along Judy’s leg. “Every week. Just us. Garlic and peace.”

Judy smiled against her. “That sounds like the name of our retirement movie.”

Valerie snorted, almost choking on her sip of broth. “'Garlic and Peace: Two Ex-Mercs, One Kitchen.'"

“Starring the most badass bald woman in Oregon and her hot redheaded wife who definitely still looks like trouble.”

Valerie turned slightly, pressing a kiss to the top of Judy’s head. “You forgot musical icon.”

Judy smirked. “Obviously. And I’m the BD legend. Together we’re unstoppable.”

Their laughter softened into silence again, and this time it stayed. Not because they ran out of words, but because the space between them didn’t need filling. Valerie leaned her cheek against the crown of Judy’s head, her arm draped casually around her shoulders as they watched the steam rise from their bowls.

The lake waited outside, the sky darkening just enough to tint the edges of the glass a deeper blue. The dock still held the marks of where they’d laid that morning. The blanket was still crumpled at the edge, but the house held warmth now, fresh and full.

Valerie’s voice broke the quiet, low and sincere. “You okay if we watch the lake a little while longer? After this.”

Judy looked up, dark brown eyes steady. “Only if we bring the rest of the tea.”

Valerie smiled, the kind that didn’t need words to say I love you.

“I’ll get the mugs.”

Judy held the door open with her shoulder as Valerie stepped carefully onto the deck, both mugs balanced between her freckled hands. Steam curled off the surface, mingling with the soft chill of the air as it drifted off the lake. The breeze was cool, but not biting just enough to wrap around them like a breath of peace.

The door clicked shut behind them, and Judy paused a moment, eyes sweeping out across the water. The lake shimmered under the moonlight, glassy and slow-moving, the sky painted in shades of deep blue and silver.

“It’s a beautiful night,” she said, voice soft but certain.

Valerie smiled as she turned, careful with the mugs. “Hard to believe we’ve got so many nights like this still ahead of us.”

She made her way to the porch swing, the gentle creak welcoming her as she eased down into the cushions, keeping both mugs steady in her hands. Judy followed close behind, and as she sat beside her, their thighs brushed, warm against the weathered fabric. Without a word, Valerie offered her one of the mugs, her hand lingering just a breath longer than needed. Judy accepted it with a quiet smile, her fingers brushing Valerie’s in a soft exchange that carried more weight than the porcelain ever could.

“Gonna be a while before your hair grows back,” Valerie mused, eyes sweeping gently over her wife’s scalp. “Maybe I should buy you a new sun hat.”

Judy took a long sip of her tea, smirking against the rim. “Oh no. Not after last time.”

Valerie let out a soft laugh, already picturing it. “Come on, our matching hats were iconic. Mine said I stir my coffee with a spoon, and yours said I am coffee. That was a peak time for us.”

Judy nearly choked on her next sip, shaking her head. “The Clan didn’t take us seriously for a week. Killjoy kept asking me ‘How’s your coffee, Judy?’ with that damn grin.”

Valerie’s laugh cracked out, her tea sloshing dangerously near the edge of her mug. “And Jen…Jen kept handing me an actual spoon. ‘Want more sugar, Valerie?’ she’d say, all smug like she hadn’t been laughing the hardest.”

Judy snorted, a little bit of tea escaping the corner of her mouth as she caught her breath. “I truly married a menace.”

Valerie beamed. “You’re damn lucky. That week was gold. Whatever happened to those hats?”

“I gave them to Vicky,” Judy said, voice tinged with mischief. “Told her to surprise Panam with them.”

Valerie’s laugh grew louder, tipping her head back against the swing’s frame. “We missed that? No. No way. I can picture Panam’s face right now, arms crossed, that pouty frown like someone told her cactus was out of season.”

Judy chuckled, eyes gleaming. “I’m sure Vicky took pictures. The better question is... did Panam burn those pictures?”

Valerie raised her mug, taking a slow sip as a smirk curved her lips. “Aldecaldos did send in that odd report a couple weeks ago of a random fire near the southwest tents. No cause, no casualties, just ‘abrupt flame activity.’”

Judy rested her hand gently on Valerie’s knee, her fingers soothing where the muscle had started to twitch. “Guess we both have to get used to these random spasms now.”

Valerie leaned into her touch, voice low but sure. “They come and go. But if a few rogue twitches are the price of forever with you, I’d pay it every time.”

Judy kissed her cheek, slow and tender. “Same goes for me.”

Valerie wrapped her hand around Judy’s, squeezing just enough to feel the tap of their gold bands. The soft click of metal rang out in the quiet, small but full of weight.

“I’ve got a meeting with the Clan tomorrow,” Valerie said. “Killjoy wants updates on the junction rebuild, and the tech division’s expecting a debrief. You don’t have to come if you want to rest some more.”

Judy brushed her thumb along the side of Valerie’s hand, her touch featherlight. “I think I’ll stay back. Start working on More Than Skin Deep. Give my mind something to hold on to.”

Valerie’s brow arched slightly, a playful gleam rising. “Which version of our lives are you going to fictionalize now? And am I finally allowed to be the love interest?”

Judy leaned her shoulder into Valerie’s, lips curving with quiet affection. “It’s a love story about two women who became digital ghosts who learned that love doesn’t end when the body changes. Who else could it be?”

Valerie nudged her knee, voice teasing. “So I do get to be the love interest this time?”

Judy poked her in the stomach, gently. “If it makes you happy, guapa.”

Valerie smiled and looped her arm around Judy, pulling her in until their sides fit together like always. “This right here is happiness, Jude.”

Judy leaned in closer, nestling against her shoulder. “Better not come home with a pocket full of spoons tomorrow.”

Valerie pressed a kiss to her forehead, lingering there as the wind shifted around them again. “That’s a problem for tomorrow,” she whispered. “Tonight, I still have you.”

Valerie’s hand moved with a quiet reverence, her fingers gliding over the ink on Judy’s shoulder the lotus flower that bloomed above her ghost in the shell tattoo. She traced the circle of lyrics slowly, her touch delicate as it passed over the words: they don't see the angel living in your heart. Her thumb lingered where the petals held their names: Valerie... Judy... 2077, etched in quiet permanence.

“Wonder what kind of tech Sera and the Clan pulled out of that buried Arasaka site,” Valerie murmured, eyes still fixed on the tattoo, though her thoughts had drifted far past it.

Judy shifted slightly, letting her chin settle against her chest as she nestled closer. “I’m sure Sandra’s over the moon. Probably halfway through retooling something into a tripwire trap.”

Valerie laughed under her breath, her hand slipping down Judy’s side, fingers trailing the curve of her waist before resting over the seahorse tattoo at the base of her spine. Her touch there was still, steady. “Feels like yesterday they were just kids… running barefoot on this deck, stealing extra toast and pretending not to be in love.”

She leaned back slightly, her eyes soft. “I blinked, and now they’re married. Out there leading the Clan.”

Judy tilted her head, her voice low and sure. “I’m just glad our girl found her place. Her and Sandra… they’ve been through as much as we have. Maybe more.”

Valerie’s breath deepened, chest rising against Judy’s hand. “I still see her twelve years old, clutching that knife like it was the only thing left in the world. Protecting Sandra. Standing in front of those kids like she was ten feet tall.” Her throat tightened. “Sometimes I think… what if we hadn’t shown up? What if we’d been late? The world would’ve lost that fire.”

Judy reached up and laid her palm gently over Valerie’s heart, grounding her. “But we did show up. And now she’s out there changing the world in ways we never imagined. That’s what matters.”

Valerie kissed her temple, slow and lingering. “She’s gonna ask about you tomorrow, you know. Do you want me to bring her anything?”

Judy smiled at her. “Just bring her home for dinner.”

Valerie’s lips curved with a familiar tease. “I’ll let her know Mama’s been missing her.”

Judy nudged her in the ribs. “I’m allowed. It’s been a week.”

Valerie exhaled through her nose, her smile fading into something more tender. “Yeah. I miss her being around too. But letting her and Sandra walk their own road... that’s part of loving her right.”

Judy’s fingers moved slowly across Valerie’s stomach, tracing faint circles through the soft fabric of her tank top. “They always check in. They always come back. It’s just… hard not to worry. We’ll outlive them, you know. We’ll outlive everyone we love. I just want all the time I can get with her.”

Valerie’s hand smoothed gently up her spine, her touch soft and sure. “Someday we’re going to be grandparents.”

Judy smirked. “You really think Sera’s ready to adopt?”

Valerie chuckled, her voice warm. “We weren’t either. But she needed us. And in the end… we needed her even more.”

Judy leaned in and kissed the center of Valerie’s chest, right where the tattoo lines sprawled across her skin. “We saved each other,” she whispered. “And she made sure we were worth saving.”

Valerie’s emerald eyes misted, her hand tightening gently at Judy’s back. “She really did.”

They stayed like that for a while, the swing swaying gently beneath them, the night air brushing soft against their skin. Time slowed again, wrapped in warmth and weight and the quiet certainty of a life earned.

Eventually, Judy gave a soft tap to Valerie’s stomach. “It’s getting late. You’ve got a full day tomorrow.”

Valerie groaned lightly, but didn’t protest as Judy rose. She offered her a hand, and Valerie took it, letting herself be pulled up with a little sway and a smile.

They stepped back inside, the hush of the house greeting them like an old friend. Clothes changed with unspoken rhythm Judy tugging a faded sleep shirt over her head, Valerie sliding off her tank and into something soft, the same pair of loose pants she always wore when she wasn’t thinking about anything but comfort.

They slid beneath the sheets, the covers pulled high as they found their places like puzzle pieces Judy curled into Valerie’s chest, Valerie’s arm wrapped firm around her back, their fingers tangling just beneath the fabric.

No goodnights were needed.

Just shared breath, and the hum of the relay syncing their hearts one steady pulse at a time.

Morning came softly as Valerie was enjoying a warm shower, and Judy began work on her new movie.

The soft blue flicker of Judy’s editing suite played across her face, catching the sheen of her cheekbone and the subtle lines beneath her eyes. She’d settled into her black leather chair, legs folded loosely beneath her, the room quiet except for the occasional click of keys and the faint hum of the relay sync hovering just behind her thoughts.

Her fingers twitched now and then residual pulses from the neural shifts, little reminders of what she’d given up to stay. They didn’t hurt, not really. But they were always there, like soft ghosts living in her hands.

Judy leaned in closer to the screens. Sequences flickered to life fragments of memory synced through the relay, stitched together into virtual scenes. A BD editor's touch, but with a soul threaded into it. Valerie’s laughter. Their morning on the dock. The porch swing. All of it is rendered in clean light and code.

She was building Michelle Singer, the fictional version of Valerie. Blonde hair, sharper jaw, different walk. Judy tilted her head, watching the simulation flicker through expressions like a face remembering how to feel.

Behind her, the floorboards creaked.

Valerie stepped into the room, barefoot, a towel draped loosely around her neck, her red hair damp and tousled from the shower. Her blue tank clung faintly to her skin, the cotton darkened along her shoulder blades. She looked like someone who hadn’t rushed just let the morning carry her, step by step.

Valerie leaned against the back of Judy’s chair, looking at the screen. “Already working hard, I see.”

Judy didn’t take her eyes off the simulation. She waved vaguely toward the monitor. “Trying to finish the framework for Michelle. But picturing you with blonde hair feels… wrong, guapa.”

Valerie smirked, folding the towel over her shoulders as she bent down beside her. “I don’t know… I think my fictional counterpart looks kind of cute.”

Judy’s lips curled as she tapped another key, zooming in. “She’s got your eyes. Might have to delete the freckles. Too on the nose.”

Valerie nudged her with her hip. “Change the nose too while you’re at it. Maybe a sharper chin, something real dramatic.”

Judy snorted, shaking her head. “She’d never get cast as the love interest.”

Valerie leaned closer, her fingers grazing the small patch of regrowth behind Judy’s ear. “Then keep her bald. Let her wear it. If we’re telling a story about love being more than skin deep…” she paused, brushing her thumb gently against Judy’s scalp, “...then she should look like the woman who inspired it.”

Judy didn’t speak right away. She just tapped a few keys, let the simulation blink, then updated the model bald, proud, confident. She leaned back in her chair and sighed. “Now I can’t unsee you without your red hair.”

Valerie smiled, arm slipping across Judy’s shoulders as she rested her cheek against the top of her head. “That’s okay. I’ll just make sure she’s the strongest, most badass woman to ever grace the screen.”

Judy tapped through a few more settings, her voice quiet but warm. “That’s easy. I’ve got a good model.”

Valerie kissed her temple. “You’re stronger than me, babe. Always have been. She’s your story as much as mine.”

Judy glanced up at her with a twinkle. “So I guess that makes Tress Hartly the fiery Latina with metallic purple hair and a shotgun to die for?”

Valerie pulled back just enough to raise her eyebrows. “Wait, metallic purple hair? I could have had metallic purple hair?”

Judy grinned without missing a beat. “Too late. You made your choice.”

Valerie leaned in, pressed a kiss just behind her ear. “Well, I’m sure Mrs. Hartly will still kick some serious ass.”

“She will,” Judy said, reaching over to tweak a few lines of code. “But you better get going, mi amor, before Sera sends out a search party.”

Valerie rubbed her shoulder once, slow and firm. “If you feel anything off, anything at all, call me. I’ll be there in a heartbeat.”

Judy caught her freckled hand and brought it to her lips, kissing her knuckles. “I love you too. Now go before you’re late.”

Valerie gave her hand a final squeeze, then turned to head down the hall. The towel came off in one fluid motion and landed on the couch. She stepped into her silver rocker boots, her jeans sliding down neatly over them. Her fingers found the Clan Alvarez jacket hanging by the door. She slipped it on, tugged the collar lightly, and tapped the stitched Judy patch above her heart. She grabbed Last Ride off the stand attaching it to her hip holster.

The morning light streamed through the window, catching in her emerald eyes as she stepped out into the garage. The Racer sat waiting matte purple frame with the lotus engraving glinting like a promise.

Valerie slid onto the seat. The leather was warm beneath her, kissed by sunlight. She took one breath slowly, even then keyed the ignition.

The engine roared softly to life, smooth and steady.

The tires kicked dust along the Peninsula road as she pulled out, heading north west toward Highland Junction, and the world opened wide in front of her.

The dirt road curved gently as it climbed, winding through patches of tall grass and cracked stone that still bore the bones of the old highway. Valerie rode the curve smooth, the Purple Racer humming beneath her like a pulse in motion. The morning sun burned low and golden across the landscape, casting long shadows behind her as the world opened up into Highland Junction.

The wind caught her hair as she crested the last rise, blowing through red strands that danced past her shoulders, wild and alive. Her Clan Alvarez jacket flared behind her, the Phoenix stitched across the back catching the light in a burnished shimmer. It flashed like fire, not a symbol of survival, but rebirth.

She slowed as the settlement came into view.

It had grown.

The outer walls had been reinforced with layered plating, old shipping crates welded into defensive overhangs. Spotter drones buzzed in lazy arcs above, their blue lights blinking with idle readiness. The central lot was no longer bare; it pulsed with life. A few traders were setting up in the corner stalls, children darted between repurposed turbine stacks, and the modded speakers hanging above the refueling station played a lazy guitar riff that sounded like something from one of Valerie’s old sets. Rough, slow, but full of soul.

Valerie coasted in with practiced ease, one boot touching down to kill the engine. The Purple Racer purred once more before going quiet.

A few familiar faces turned from their posts near the barricade.

“Boss,” one of the scouts said with a grin, raising a hand in salute.

Valerie returned the nod with a half-smile, slinging her leg off the bike. “Looks good out here.”

“You should see the new solar array Dante installed,” another added. “Highland’s pulling juice like a city grid now.”

Valerie took it all in repainted signage, the new council deck atop the old truck stop, welded metal flowers placed by the kids near the north gate. Her heart swelled in that quiet, enduring way it always did when things were working. When the scars became something more.

Then her eyes caught Sera's rig, half-caked in red dust, parked just outside the main garage. The massive frame loomed, a beast of war and engineering both, and just beneath it… two boots.

Black leather, steel-plated toes. Legs covered in oil-streaked denim. A faint clanking echoed from underneath the chassis.

Valerie’s lips curved. She made her way over.

As she stepped close, the rig suddenly lit up holo-projectors snapping on with a grin and two bright eyes.

“WARNING,” a voice blared in exaggerated dramatics, “Screwbie Defense Protocol Activated: Bitchin’ Mom Alert Level 7.”

Valerie didn’t break stride. “Afternoon, Screwbie.”

“Afternoon, Red. Nice to see you’re still pretty enough to stop a war crime with a wink.”

Valerie laughed. “Flattery? You malfunctioning?”

“Flattery's free. Emotional validation costs extra. Please insert hugs or teasing remarks to continue.”

From beneath the rig came a muffled laugh. “Screwbie, shut up before Mom reprograms you into a toaster.”

Valerie leaned down, crouching just enough to see her daughter slide partway out on a rig board, a wrench still clutched in one hand. Sera’s face was streaked with grime, bangs clinging to her forehead, a smudge of oil above one brow. Her emerald eyes caught the sun like mirrors.

“Hey, Mom,” she said, breathless and grinning. “Didn’t expect you so early.”

Valerie reached out and offered a hand to help her up. “Didn’t expect to find you elbow-deep in your shocks before breakfast.”

Sera took it, hauling herself up with a groan and a shake of her head. “Rig started acting up on the drive back. Thought I’d tune it up before Killjoy starts his long-winded mission breakdown.”

Just as she wiped her hand on a rag, footsteps approached from the side. Sandra, calm as ever, stepped up with a bottle of water in each hand. Her brown hair was pulled back into a loose braid, and she wore her Alvarez jacket unzipped over a black tank. The moment she spotted Valerie, a quiet smile touched her lips.

“Morning, Valerie,” she said, her voice soft but steady.

Valerie gave her a nod. “Sandra. Are you keeping this one in line?”

Sandra passed a bottle to Sera without looking. “I try. She’s only set one thing on fire this week.”

“It was controlled,” Sera muttered, uncapping the bottle.

Valerie chuckled. “How’d the sweep go? The Arasaka site near Bend.”

Sera wiped her forehead, taking a deep drink before answering. “Mostly empty, but we found a few secure vaults sealed off in the lower levels. Old tech, pre-Collapse. Some of its encrypted Sandra already cracked one data unit, though. Might have mapping software for old ghost-net towers.”

Sandra nodded, expression thoughtful. “And a few fragments that looked like rejected early-stage Relic interfaces. No Engram presence. Just raw data storage.”

Valerie’s brow lifted. “Smart you grabbed them. Might be worth looping Judy in once she’s rested more.”

Sera smiled at that. “Mama’s doing okay?”

“She’s good,” Valerie said, warmth settling in her tone. “Started working on that movie project she’s been dreaming about. More Than Skin Deep. We decided to make me bald in the simulation.”

Sera let out a laugh. “No way.”

“Completely smooth. Said it makes the message stronger.” Valerie leaned slightly, teasing. “I said after the meeting, I might go find her a new sun hat.”

Sera groaned. “Please pick something more reasonable this time, Mom. I’m still recovering from the ‘I stir my coffee with a spoon’ fiasco.”

Sandra smirked behind her water bottle. “You mean when your Mama became ‘coffee incarnate’ for a week?”

Sera rolled her eyes. “Don’t encourage them.”

Valerie rested a hand on her daughter’s shoulder, the grease and dust never mattering. “Just glad to see you both made it back in one piece.”

Sera smiled, her voice a little quieter now. “You always taught us how.”

Valerie gave her shoulder a squeeze, then glanced toward the repurposed truck stop in the distance where the council chamber waited. “Killjoy’s probably already pacing. I better check in before he sends Screwbie after me with a megaphone.”

“Tempting offer,” Screwbie chimed. “I even rehearsed a dramatic entrance theme.”

Valerie grinned over her shoulder as she walked. “Save it for when I bring the sun hat.”

The gravel shifted under their boots as they walked, the path leading up from the garage toward the repurposed truck stop now serving as Highland Junction’s council chamber. Welded rebar framed the outer awning, and the rusted signage overhead still read “Full Service – Last Fuel for 200 Miles”, with newer plasma insets pulsing faintly beneath. It had been a long way from salvage yard to stronghold, but now, it felt earned.

Valerie adjusted the collar of her jacket, fingers brushing the Judy patch stitched just above her heart as she fell into stride beside Sera and Sandra.

Sera gave a small stretch, her shoulder rolling with that habitual pop it always made after working under the rig. “Think Killjoy’s already mid-rant?”

Sandra gave a soft glance sideways. “He’s probably three paragraphs deep and waiting to pounce.”

Valerie smirked. “Then we better not keep him waiting too long. But before I forget Judy wants you both over for dinner tonight.”

Sera perked up immediately. “Really?”

Valerie glanced at her, a smile tugging at the edge of her mouth. “Yeah. She’s been missing you. Got that tone in her voice when she said she didn't have to say the words.”

Sera’s face softened, expression easing into something warm and sincere. “I’ve been missing her too. Missed you both. Just… the world doesn’t slow down much lately.”

Sandra’s voice was quiet, steady. “We’ll be there. Promise.”

Valerie nodded, eyes still forward, but her voice grew softer. “She started syncing her memories into the movie she’s building. Said she wants it to be more than just a story. She’s trying to show the world what love looks like when it survives everything.”

Sera blew out a slow breath. “She’s always known how to tell the truth without ever saying it outright.”

Valerie chuckled. “Yeah. That’s your Mama.”

They approached the council deck, the metal steps groaning beneath their feet as they climbed. The door slid open with a familiar hiss, revealing the chamber beyond dimly lit, half-lined in old world plastics and steel support beams, a central round table built from the hood of a Nomad convoy truck. Maps projected across it shimmered in real-time weather updates, route changes, Clan positions from all over the region.

Killjoy stood near the far end, arms crossed, his cyberarm twitching slightly as he turned toward them. Dante stood nearby, calm as always, data shard tucked behind one ear.

As Valerie stepped through the doorway, she paused just long enough to glance over her shoulder at Sera and Sandra.

“After this,” she said, voice low and certain, “we go home.”

Sera smiled and followed her in, because no matter what came next, dinner was waiting. So was Judy.

The room smelled faintly of dust, ozone, and old metal like every Nomad stronghold that had lived through more rebuilds than it had blueprints. The lights above the council table flickered on as Valerie approached, their dull yellow hum casting long shadows over the cracked floor.

Killjoy looked up first, cyberarm resting casually across his chest, scarred face twisting into a smirk. “Finally. Thought I’d have to send Screwbie in with sirens.”

Valerie met his gaze with a matching edge. “He offered. Said he had a dramatic entrance theme queued up.”

Dante looked up from the map projection with a quiet grin. “Let me guess…’Ride of the Valkyries,’ but in banjo synth?”

“Close,” Valerie said, stepping up to the table, her hand brushing lightly over its surface. “He called it ‘Mom Approaching: Prepare Your Shit.’”

That earned a chuckle from Killjoy, who stepped aside to make room as Sera and Sandra moved in behind Valerie.

“Glad you made it,” Dante said with a respectful nod toward Sera. “Wasn’t sure if you two were still elbows-deep in that vault gear.”

Sera dropped a data shard on the table. “We are. But we pulled a lot of intel last night. Sandra cracked two encrypted partitions and found embedded route mapping for what looks like an old ghost-net relay network.”

Sandra slid in beside her, her tone even. “It’s all static now, but the architecture’s solid. If we link it with our upgraded towers, we could expand Clan Alvarez’s encrypted range across most of the northwestern badlands.”

Killjoy’s eyebrows lifted slightly. “That’s damn good coverage. Would outpace the Aldecaldos’ current push across Route 16.”

Valerie’s expression shifted toward thoughtful approval. “Run it by the tech division. Let them prioritize node sites. If the encryption holds, we could offer secured comms to every allied Nomad set between here and Dust Bone.”

“Already in motion,” Sandra said, cool as ever.

Dante folded his arms, gaze moving toward Sera. “Any complications in the vault near Bend?”

Sera shook her head. “Minimal resistance. A couple old defense drones half-buried in power failures. We took care of them quietly. No casualties.”

Valerie’s gaze swept over both of them, Sera's smudged brow, Sandra’s composed frame. They stood tall, equal parts grit and grace.

“Good work,” Valerie said. “That’s the kind of op we need more of. Clean. Controlled. No one got buried under heroics.”

Killjoy leaned forward, tapping the map to highlight red flares near Crescent Ridge. “Only trouble’s coming from scavver clusters. Looks like a new pack moved in. Might be trying to sniff out Arasaka sites we haven’t swept yet.”

Valerie tilted her head, studying the routes. “Think they’re working solo or linked to a backer?”

“Hard to say,” Dante replied. “Could just be a loose crew trying to make a name. But they’re smart. They haven’t tripped any obvious alarms.”

Sandra looked at the data, eyes scanning with quiet intent. “We should bait them. Dropping false data makes it look like an untouched vault near the west ridge. If they bite, we box them in. Quietly.”

Sera nodded. “We can handle that. Me, Sandra, maybe Jess and Vee. Small strike team.”

Valerie’s eyes lingered on her daughter, and she gave a subtle nod. “Approved. But no unnecessary risks. You fall back if it gets messy.”

Sera smirked. “You taught me better than that.”

Valerie’s voice was soft, but steady. “I taught you to fight when you have to. Not die proving you can.”

The room quieted a moment, that familiar weight of truth settling in the center of the table like an old friend.

Dante leaned back against a support beam. “That covers today’s pressure points.”

Killjoy gestured toward the holomap one last time. “We’ll finalize the patrol rotations after the sim. Otherwise, we’re good to go.”

Valerie pushed back from the table, her shoulders relaxing just a little. “Then let’s wrap it.”

Sera gave a short nod, Sandra already reaching to collect their shard. Killjoy was already muttering about drone maintenance as he walked out. Dante paused long enough to squeeze Valerie’s shoulder gently in parting.

Valerie turned toward her daughter and daughter-in-law as the room emptied, the sound of boots on metal fading down the stairs.

“Don’t forget,” she said, her tone slipping easily into affection, “Judy’s waiting on dinner tonight. She didn’t say it directly, but… she’s been missing you both.”

Sera lit up instantly. “We’ll be there. Wouldn't miss it.”

Sandra gave a faint, knowing smile. “I’ll make sure she doesn’t bring a sidearm to the table.”

Valerie grinned, slinging her jacket back into place as they stepped toward the exit. “And I’ll make sure the sun hat doesn’t ruin the meal.”

Sera groaned as the door opened to the afternoon light. “Just… make it less embarrassing this time, Mom. Please.”

Valerie didn’t reply, just smirked as she led the way out, the wind catching the Phoenix on her jacket again, flames stitched in thread, always rising.

After the meeting wrapped, Valerie peeled off from the others, her path pulling naturally toward the market that sprawled in uneven rows behind the old fuel depot. It wasn’t large, just a tight curve of stalls beneath shade tarps, wired to the steel beams of old antenna towers. But it thrived with a kind of humble purpose. The sound of barter and old blues guitar drifted lazily through the air, punctuated by laughter and the occasional bark of a trader sealing a deal.

She moved slowly, not out of fatigue, but to feel the rhythm of the place. Her boots crunched gravel with every step as she passed baskets of dried fruit, spools of scavenged wiring, and handcrafted ammo pouches sewn from recycled armor leather.

Her holo buzzed softly at her wrist.

She flipped it open with a thumb-swipe, and the group thread flickered into view. PAZ, ETHAN, ANIKO, ALBA.

Paz: We survived Red Dirt. Kind of. Pulled off “Ashes Rise” and “Night City Dreams.”

Alba: No one cried. Except maybe Ethan.

Ethan: It was emotional, okay?

Aniko: The owner loved it even if we only hit half the set. Said your songs are ‘too damn personal’ to cover without you.

Paz: Valerie Halloway did great filling in. The girl has a promising future. Big voice. Smaller boots. Different flavor, but respectful.

Alba: We’ll be back in Klamath Falls in a few days. Restocking and recovering.

Valerie’s smirk was soft, amused, but real. She typed quickly:

Valerie: You earned the break. Thanks for covering me. We’ll do a Klamath show soon just for us. The home crowd needs to hear it again.

She paused, then added:

Tell Halloway I said thank you. Keep her around. The next fire always needs more hands to carry it.

She flicked the holo closed and slid it into her jacket, gaze lifting back to the market. The sun had shifted just enough to cast long shadows under the canopy lines.

That’s when she spotted it off near the corner booth where dyed fabrics hung in loose waves, a white sun hat tilted on a mannequin bust. It wasn’t loud or gaudy. Worn canvas, wide-brimmed, stitched clean through the crown with a pair of crossed roses in deep maroon thread.

Subtle, bold, and beautiful.

Valerie stepped closer.

The vendor, a woman with dark eyes and graying hair tucked under a bandana looked up and smiled. “Didn’t think I’d catch a Leader browsing my hats.”

Valerie gestured toward it, one brow raised. “You stitch this?”

“Every thread,” the woman said proudly. “Takes hours to get those roses lined right. But I like work that speaks.”

Valerie picked the hat up, thumb brushing the underside of the brim. It was soft, sun-worn, and steady in her hand. “It does. I think my wife would smile and cry in the same breath if I brought this home.”

The vendor grinned, her gaze warm. “Then take it. A thank you for everything you’ve done here. For Highland.”

Valerie met her eyes, gentle but unwavering. “You put hours into this. Every thread, like you said. I pay for that.”

She pulled a small stack of eurodollars from her jacket, counted the right amount, and passed them over. “We fight so the work still means something.”

The woman’s smile softened into something quieter. “You Alvarez women… never just take. Makes the rest of us want to keep building.”

Valerie tipped the hat lightly before tucking it under her arm. “Thank you.”

She moved on, the crowd shifting around her, the smell of grilled chili maize and smoke curling in from another stall. At the next booth, she spotted a familiar green-glass bottle lined in silver. She tapped her knuckle against the table.

“Two bottles of Centzon. Best batch you’ve got.”

The trader handed them over without fuss, placing them neatly into a cloth-lined satchel, nodding her thanks before stepping back into the market’s flow.

She was just about to head toward the central square when something tugged at her attention.

Tucked in beside a jewelry stand near the edge of the lot a folding table lined with braided leather bracelets, scrap-metal pendants, and clan charms sat a small display frame propped against a metal box. It wasn’t big. Just a printed photo. Laminated to keep the corners from curling.

A faded header above it read: Clan Alvarez Founders. Circa 2078.

Valerie slowed.

The photo had been taken just a few months after the Snake Nation War. She knew it instantly. She was there. She saw herself in her jacket, red hair braided than it was now, eyes harder than she remembered feeling. Judy stood beside her, smiling without the mask of sarcasm. Sera, barely thirteen, was held between them one arm around each shoulder, her smile bright enough to cut through every bruise on her arms. She was still thin, still healing, still small, but her spirit had been burning even then.

Valerie stepped closer.

The vendor looked up from polishing a brass torque. “You recognize it?”

Valerie nodded. “I lived it.”

The woman blinked, then smiled. “Didn’t realize it was you. It’s one of the oldest prints we’ve kept in circulation. A few copies were archived from the Junction records. That one’s the original.”

Valerie crouched slightly, eyes tracing the lines of their younger selves. “Feels like a hundred years ago. But I remember the way Sera looked at us in this moment. Like we were a home she couldn’t believe was real.”

The vendor tilted her head. “You want it?”

Valerie looked up, slow and steady. “I do. But I’ll pay for it.”

The woman nodded and slid the frame gently across. “In that case… consider pairing it with this.”

She reached under the table and pulled out a necklace, a simple silver chain with a rose and lotus charm interlinked at the center. The name Alvarez etched between them in faint script.

Valerie’s throat tightened, but her hand was steady as she reached for it. “It’s perfect for her.”

The vendor handed it over with a nod. “Thank you for building something the rest of us could believe in.”

Valerie offered a quiet smile. “Just trying to make sure no one forgets where it started.”

She tucked the necklace, photo, and sun hat carefully into her satchel, gave one last nod of thanks, and stepped back out into the sunlight. The wind had shifted again, cooler now, blowing dust in lazy spirals across the clearing.

In that moment with the tequila, the necklace, and the past pressed gently against her ribs Valerie felt something like peace bloom just beneath her sternum.

She turned toward the center of Highland Junction, towards the main garage, heart already half on its way home.

Valerie knelt beside the Racer, tightening the saddlebag straps until the fabric hugged the frame. Inside, the white sun hat lay carefully folded around the bottle of Centzon, with the necklace and the old photo pressed flat beneath it. Her fingers paused there, brushing the edge of the laminated print of her, Judy, and Sera months after the Snake Nation War. Bruised, smiling, but still whole.

She rose slowly, dust brushing from her knees as she tapped her holo to life.

Judy’s image blinked into view, standing in their kitchen with the mug half-lifted to her lips. Her posture shifted ever so slightly just enough to say she’d been waiting.

Her brow lifted, voice dry but warm as her smirk followed. “Let me guess you grabbed the tequila.”

Valerie’s hand slid over the saddlebag, her thumb resting against it. Her smile tugged in gently, the day catching up in the corners of her voice. “Wrapped in cloth like it’s sacred. You really think I’d forget the most important thing?”

Judy gave a slow nod, the corner of her mouth curving. “Didn’t think so.”

Valerie hesitated a breath, her gaze drifting for just a moment toward the edge of the sky, where the market’s shadow had finally begun to fade. Then she looked back into the frame. “Found something else, too. At a booth selling old prints. Clan archives.”

Judy’s expression softened before she spoke, as if she already knew.

Valerie’s voice stayed steady. “Us. Months after the war. You had that bruise on your cheekbone. Sera’s in the middle thirteen, grinning like she didn’t know the world had tried to take everything from her.”

Judy lowered her mug slowly, her gaze never leaving the screen. “I remember that day. She held both our hands the whole walk to the outpost. Like if she let go, she’d lose it all.”

Valerie nodded once, slow. “And somehow she smiled like none of it ever touched her.”

“I think that’s when I knew,” Judy murmured, voice quiet. “We weren’t just surviving. We were becoming something.”

Valerie’s lips pressed together, just a moment of breath before she said, “She still looks at us like that sometimes.”

Judy didn’t reply right away. She just tilted her head, eyes searching Valerie’s face through the screen. “You okay?”

Valerie’s voice was quiet, but full. “Yeah. I am now.”

Judy let her shoulders drop a little, that quiet sigh she only gave when relief and love touched at the same edge. “Then get home. Dinner’s waiting. So am I.”

Valerie smiled again, this one reaching her eyes. “On my way. Love you, Jude.”

“I know,” Judy whispered, her smile holding fast. “Always do.”

The screen faded out with a final blink, leaving Valerie in the soft hush of the market’s edge. She took one last glance toward the horizon, then climbed onto the Racer, the engine coming to life with a clean, steady hum.

With the sun to her back and her family ahead she rode.

Valerie rode steady, the hum of the Racer low beneath her as she carved through the badlands. The sun was beginning its slow descent behind her, stretching long shadows across the broken terrain. Wind kicked up dust trails along the old highway, and in the distance, rusted pylons leaned like relics from another time.

The air smelled like dry metal and sage.

She kept her left hand loose on the throttle, her right resting over the grip of Last Ride, the matte black pistol snug against her hip. The ballistic compressor embedded along the palm of her right hand pulsed faintly synced, quiet, waiting.

Then she saw it.

Dust trails ahead are too tight, moving too fast for wind. Six bikes spread out in a wide arc, working to box her in. Her optics swept the lead angles. No markings she trusted. Scav welds. Patchwork armor. Movement without rhythm. Raffen Shiv.

She didn’t accelerate. Just eased off the gas and let the Racer roll to a stop.

Her boot touched the cracked road as the engine purred low, then cut out entirely. Dust settled in lazy spirals around her as she swung off the seat and stepped forward, one hand resting near the grip of her pistol, the other loose by her side.

They came in loud engines revving, whooping like it gave them power.

The lead rider kicked up gravel as he slowed, half-grinning behind a chipped helmet. “Didn’t expect to find royalty this far from the throne.”

Valerie’s gaze didn’t waver. “Didn’t expect fools who think six-to-one’s fair odds.”

Another leaned over his handlebars, voice tinny through a modded mask. “Heard you Alvarez types were soft now. Building towns. Playing family. Thought we’d see if you still bleed.”

Valerie didn’t move.

Her hand slipped calmly to her hip, fingers curling around Last Ride.

“You shouldn’t have come.”

The pistol snapped free in a blink, no pause, no warning. The first shot cracked through the air, a burst of energy ripping straight through the lead rider’s chestplate. He dropped hard, body limp before it hit the ground.

The others scattered into action.

Two flanked fast on foot, blades drawn. One opened fire from the far left. Valerie shifted to cover, her right arm absorbing the recoil as she returned a shot clean, focused. The ballistic compressor steadied the kick as she dropped the shooter mid-stride.

Another came in swinging low. She caught the edge of his blade arm, twisted hard until she heard the shoulder joint give, then slammed the butt of her pistol across his jaw. He staggered, blood trailing from his mouth, and collapsed near his bike.

One more lunged from behind.

She turned sharp, caught him with a knee to the gut, then drove her elbow into his temple. He crumpled, dazed. She kept moving.

The last one young, shaking held a rifle he hadn’t even aimed. His eyes flicked over the bodies, over her stance, over the steady grip she still held on Last Ride.

He dropped the weapon and backed away without a word.

She didn’t chase.

Valerie flexed her right shoulder as she settled back into the Racer’s seat, the tear in her jacket fabric brushing against her skin, but there was no pain. The wound beneath had already closed, fresh pink sealed smooth by the augments running just beneath the dermal layer. Another scar in the making, maybe. But nothing that would slow her down.

She pulled out her holo and tapped the comm channel.

Dante’s voice came in calm, as always. “Val?”

“Raffen Shiv tried to cut me off on the way back,” she said, resting her elbow on the Racer’s handlebar, visor lifted. “Six of them. Dropped five. One ran.”

There was a beat of silence. Then Dante’s tone sharpened. “You alright?”

Valerie exhaled, a slow breath through her nose. “Yeah. Healing augments kicked in fast. I’m fine... unless Judy decides to kill me for getting into a fight this close to dinner.”

She could hear the faint sigh of relief behind Dante’s chuckle. “Should’ve known you’d walk it off.”

Valerie gave a faint smile. “Just another reminder the road still belongs to us.”

“I’ll send a crew out to sweep the area,” he said. “If that pack was scouting Highland Junction, we need to know who they’re feeding intel to.”

“Smart,” Valerie nodded, eyes scanning the ridgelines ahead. “Tell Killjoy to keep the drone coverage wide tonight. I don’t think they were expecting a fight... but next time they might bring one.”

“Understood,” Dante said. “I’ll handle it. You just get home.”

Valerie’s fingers tightened around the grip, the engine low and steady beneath her. “On my way.”

She ended the call, slid the holo back into her jacket. The wind picked up as she throttled forward, dust spiraling behind her like smoke in the wake of everything she’d left on that road.

After a short drive the Peninsula stretched open quiet again, but this time, it felt earned.

She leaned into the curve, and rode home.

The garage door slid open with a low mechanical sigh, dust kicking up faintly as the Racer coasted in. Valerie throttled down, the engine fading into a soft purr before she cut it entirely. The space welcomed her with quiet the kind she’d only ever found here. Tools neatly lined on the wall. A faint trace of cedar and oil in the air. The kind of silence that felt chosen.

She stepped off the bike, unstrapping the saddlebag and slinging the satchel over her shoulder. The tequila bottle shifted gently inside, cradled in canvas. Her fingers brushed the sun hat where it pressed against the edge.

Her holo blinked before she could take a step further Incoming Call: Sera.

Valerie tapped the side with her thumb and brought the projection into view.

Sera’s face filled the frame from behind the wheel of her rig, red hair ruffled slightly by the cracked window next to her. The dashboard flickered in warm tones around her, and in the background, Sandra sat in the passenger seat. A third voice, Screwbie's, of course muttered something sarcastic and mechanical in the background before going silent again.

“Mom,” Sera said, adjusting the steering slightly with one hand while holding the holo with the other, “Dante called.”

Valerie raised a brow, stepping further into the garage as the door closed behind her. “Of course he did.”

“He said Raffen tried to ambush you?”

“They tried,” Valerie said, voice even. She set the saddlebag down on the bench beside the door, her other hand running through her wind-tossed hair. “Didn’t go their way.”

Sera’s brows furrowed, her concern cutting through the motion of the ride. “You okay?”

Valerie nodded once, calm and clear. “I’m good. Healing augments patched the worst of it before I even got back on the bike. Not the first time I’ve been outnumbered.”

“But it’s been a while since someone was that bold,” Sera said, glancing briefly toward Sandra. “You think they knew who you were?”

“They didn’t come in blind,” Valerie said. “Could’ve been scouting routes, could’ve been a test. Doesn’t matter. They lost. But stay sharp on your op. If someone’s poking around this close to Highland Junction, they might have more eyes than we thought.”

Sera gave a short nod, focus returning behind her eyes. “We’re ready. Sandra finished prepping our decoy cache this morning. We’re pulling out at first light. Small strike team, tight coverage.”

Valerie leaned her back against the workbench, arms folding across her chest as she watched her daughter take point like it was second nature. “You two heading here now?”

“Yeah,” Sera said. “We just hit the ridge. Should be pulling in maybe twenty. Thought we’d grab a bottle of wine on the way.”

Sandra’s voice chimed in off to the side, soft but clear: “Already got it.”

Valerie smirked. “I’ve got the tequila.”

Sera grinned, tension finally giving way to a familiar spark. “Perfect. We’ll be there soon. Love you.”

“Love you too, Starshine,” Valerie said, voice warm as ever.

The call faded as the holo blinked out.

She stood there for a beat longer, letting the quiet settle, then reached for the saddlebag again and turned toward the door leading inside.

Dinner was waiting, and so was home.

Valerie opened the satchel, pulled out a bottle of Centzon, and closed the flap with a brush of her freckled fingers. The garage door clicked shut behind her as she stepped inside. Her eyes caught the photographs lining the hallway family moments, Clan milestones, smiles weathered by time. They hung like memory itself, each one anchored in the life they’d built.

She walked slowly down the hall, the bottle cradled in one hand. The scent of tomatoes and roasted pepper met her halfway. As she turned toward the kitchen, she caught the edge of the living room blankets draped over the couch, a paused screen, the subtle hum of home holding its breath.

She stepped into the open kitchen, setting the satchel on the counter as her voice eased into the air.

“You still hum like an angel.”

Judy stood at the counter, tank top slightly smudged, slicing onions with smooth, practiced motion. The window beside her was cracked open, a breeze lifting the edge of new growth behind her ear. She didn’t speak at first, but her head tilted, just slightly, as if she’d been waiting for the sound of that voice all along.

Then her eyes dropped to the tear in Valerie’s jacket.

The knife stilled. Quietly, she set it down and wiped her hands before closing the space between them.

She reached out, fingertips brushing the torn fabric near Valerie’s right shoulder. “What happened?”

Valerie shifted the bottle in her grip. “Raffen. Six of them. Wrong road.”

Judy didn’t answer. She tugged the jacket gently down Valerie’s arms as it dropped to the floor, revealing the soft cling of a blue tank top underneath. Her hand lingered where skin had already healed over. She traced the faint edge of the damage closed, seamless now, and pressed a kiss just below the spot, warm against freckled skin.

“I’m just glad you’re okay.”

Valerie smiled faintly, her voice low. “Always will be. I get to come home to you.”

Judy exhaled through her nose, softening again as she returned to the counter. “You tell Sera and Sandra to come for dinner?”

Valerie turned toward the cabinet beside the sink, pulling down two glasses. “Twenty minutes out. Said they were picking up wine on the way.”

She poured the tequila, the soft clink of glass-on-glass filling the quiet between them.

Judy looked over her shoulder and smiled. “Glad they could make it.”

Valerie handed her a glass, her other hand resting on the counter. “They’ve got another op tomorrow, but they didn’t want to break their promise.”

Judy took a sip, her shoulders relaxing with the taste. “I wish they could be home more.”

Valerie lifted her glass in a small toast. “Makes every visit feel like a gift. How’s the movie coming?”

“I got the actors built,” Judy said, voice dipping into the familiar tone she used when her mind was half in the edit. “Still building the early sequences, but it’s a start.”

Valerie smiled. “Got a feeling this one’s gonna be your best yet.”

Judy gave a soft chuckle. “You say that about all of them.”

Valerie smiled. “Only because they keep proving me right.”

Judy gave her a sideways smirk. “You’re still the biggest flirt in this house.”

Valerie set her glass down and reached into the satchel again. “Can’t help it. Especially when I’ve got surprises.”

She pulled out the white sun hat, fingers holding the brim carefully. “Thought this would suit you. Hand-stitched crossed roses. One of the Clan vendors.”

Judy took it in both hands, eyes warming as she ran her fingers over the stitching. “It’s beautiful, Val. Way better than those last ones.”

Valerie grinned. “No spoons this time. Promise. Still got one more thing.”

She reached in again, pulling out the necklace. A silver loop with a rose and lotus charm, Alvarez etched between them. Judy turned as Valerie stepped closer and clasped it around her neck, then pressed a kiss to her cheek.

Judy’s face lit up, pure and quiet. “You’re gonna make me burn dinner if you keep looking at me like that.”

Valerie rested her forehead against hers for a moment. “Figured I’d wait to show you the photo when Sera gets here. I thought she’d like to see it too.”

Judy’s fingers brushed the charms at her neck. “She will. I already do. Can you help me finish up here?”

Valerie leaned in, brushed a kiss behind her ear. “What are we making anyway? I got a little distracted.”

Judy laughed, shaking her head as she handed her a spoon. “Pan-roasted squash and pepper pasta. But you better keep that charm of yours on simmer.”

Valerie brushed her arm, stepping beside her. “No promises, Jude.”

Just like that, they settled into motion side by side, hands moving together, the kitchen filling with the rhythm of two lives that had always known how to come back home.

Dinner was finished before long, the scent of roasted squash and peppers settling like comfort into the walls. Valerie moved around the kitchen, placing silverware with quiet ease, laying out plates with practiced rhythm. Every small motion spoke of routine of care, of the calm that only came at the end of a long day.

She glanced across the counter where Judy was wiping the last of the sauce from the pan, curls of steam rising from the stovetop.

Judy caught the look and tilted her brow. “I told you low simmer.”

Valerie grinned, slow and bright. “I’m simmering. You’re the one letting tomato sauce claim your cheek.”

She slipped behind her, warm hands sliding under the hem of Judy’s tank top as she leaned in and licked the small smear of sauce from her cheek.

“Want me to grab you a fresh top?” she murmured against her skin.

Judy reached back with a smirk. “Should’ve put a lid on the pan. Should’ve put a lid on you. Go on, before you start a fire.”

Valerie chuckled low in her throat as she tugged the shirt upward, revealing the smooth curve of Judy’s elegant red bra beneath.

Judy laughed, head tilting back slightly. “Could’ve brought me the new top first, guapa.”

Valerie stepped around her, peeling off her own tank top in one fluid motion. The light caught the soft violet hue of her bra, her tattoos shining in the light.

“Now we’re even,” she said, voice teasing as she reached down for the jacket Judy had stripped off earlier. “And you get a great view while I leave the kitchen.”

She tossed a wink over her shoulder as she picked up the towel thrown over the couch.

Judy called after her, laughter in her voice. “That sexy ass better keep moving. I’m not greeting the girls half-dressed.”

Valerie flipped her red hair lightly, letting it catch the air as she walked down the hallway, bare shoulders kissed by the soft overhead lights. The walls along the corridor echoed back the quiet joy of it all photographs and footsteps, old stories living beside new ones.

She turned into the bedroom, tossed both shirts toward the laundry basket, and crossed to the dresser. She pulled a soft gray tank top over her head and grabbed a black one for Judy, folding it loosely over her arm before heading back toward the kitchen.

When she returned, Judy was leaning against the counter, half-armed with sarcasm and warm affection.

Valerie handed over the tank top with a bright smile. “Now dinner is complete.”

Judy took it, her smirk softening into something fond. “Still such a menace.”

Valerie kissed the side of her head before stepping toward the table. “Only to you.”

The kitchen was set now, plates perfectly arranged, steam still rising in gentle curls. Their glasses of Centzon sat half-full, and Valerie placed the second bottle in the center of the table, angled neatly in case the night ran long.

She reached into the satchel and pulled out the photograph, the old print smooth beneath her fingers. She held it against her chest for a moment, heart caught in the quiet gravity of what it held, what they’d lived, what they’d saved.

A knock at the front door, and Sera’s voice came through warm and familiar. “Hey Moms, we’re coming in!”

The latch clicked, hinges easing open, and the house pulled in more of what it loved most.

The door swung open with a soft creak, the sound of boots scuffing gently against the entryway tile. Sera stepped in first, already unzipping her jacket halfway, her eyes lighting up the second they caught sight of her moms.

“Hey!” she beamed, that familiar spark in her voice. “Smells amazing in here.”

Valerie met her halfway across the room, arms outstretched. “You made good time, Starshine.”

Sera wrapped her into a tight hug, burying her nose briefly into the space beneath Valerie’s neck, where the scent of pepper, dust, and home still clung. “I wouldn't miss this dinner if I had to race a cyclone through the flats.”

Sandra followed just behind, quieter, but smiling. She held a bottle of wine by the neck, her other hand gently brushing the inside of the door closed.

“Hey, Mama,” Sera said, turning toward Judy, who was already halfway to her.

Judy didn’t hesitate. She pulled her into a deep, lingering hug, arms wrapped firm around Sera’s shoulders, chin resting lightly on top of her head. For a moment, nothing moved.

“You’ve been gone too long,” Judy murmured against her hair.

“I missed you too,” Sera whispered, squeezing back. “We’re here now.”

Sandra waited until Sera stepped away, then leaned in for her own greeting. Judy pulled her into a more measured but still warm embrace, her voice soft. “Good to see you, sweetheart.”

“You too, Mama,” Sandra said, her hand brushing lightly over Judy’s back before they stepped apart.

Valerie gave Sandra a quick side-hug of her own. “Glad you’re both in one piece.”

“We stayed sharp,” Sandra replied, that quiet confidence never far from her. “Made it through the Ridge in record time.”

“Traffic was mostly coyotes,” Sera added, grinning.

Judy reached for the wine and set it beside the tequila. “Go wash up. Food’s hot.”

A few minutes later, they were all seated steam curling off the pasta, bread still warm, the scent of roasted squash filling the space. The second bottle of Centzon rested unopened in the center of the table, glasses already poured.

Judy’s eyes drifted to Sera, her gaze lingering just a second longer than casual.

“You okay?” Sera asked, catching it instantly.

Judy smiled, soft and open. “Better now. Just... missed this.”

Sera reached over, brushed her fingers against Judy’s hand before pulling back. “We missed it too, Mama.”

Sandra nodded beside her. “Feels good to sit down somewhere that doesn’t move.”

Valerie took a sip of her drink. “I told Judy you two were coming, and she lit up like it was your birthday.”

Judy arched her brow. “Not that dramatic.”

“You checked the oven three times, Jude,” Valerie teased.

Judy pointed her fork at her without heat. “Timing’s everything.”

Sera grinned, leaning into the rhythm. “So... any updates on More Than Skin Deep? Or are you still trying to cast someone who looks nothing like Mom?”

Judy gave a thoughtful nod, a small smile curving. “She’s bald now, and freckleless.”

Sandra blinked. “Really?”

Judy’s eyes sparkled as she looked at Valerie. “She said it’d help make the message stronger.”

Valerie gave a modest shrug. “Besides, it’s kind of fun watching you make someone else try to play me.”

Sera laughed. “As long as you don’t write me out.”

“You’re already in it,” Judy said gently. “You both are. Even if you’re not on the screen.”

Sandra glanced across the table. “Sounds like something real.”

“It is,” Judy said, voice quiet, but firm. “It always has been.”

The conversation rolled forward from there talking edits and op plans, old dinners and new jokes. Laughter filled the kitchen like a familiar breeze, soft and echoing, as four voices folded into one rhythm again.

The laughter mellowed into quieter conversation as plates lightened and the first sips of the second bottle of Centzon passed around.

Sandra leaned back slightly in her chair, fingers tracing the edge of her glass before setting it down. “I’ve been working on some gear updates for our next op.”

Judy looked over, head tilting. “Something new?”

Sandra nodded. “Adaptive mag harness. It lets us swap in hybrid rounds on the fly. Good for missions where you’re switching between tech and conventional resistance. I’ve got the weight down and energy dissipation’s cleaner.”

Valerie raised a brow, impressed. “You built that from scratch?”

“Modified it from an Arasoka schematic,” Sandra replied. “The older ones were bulky. This one tucks flat into the armor plate.”

Sera grinned proudly. “She also rigged her own overwatch drone. Named it Milo.”

“Which she’s absolutely going to pretend wasn’t inspired by the cat movie I showed her last year,” Judy added, reaching for another piece of bread.

Sandra didn’t deny it. “He’s small. Quiet. Focused. Perfect recon.”

“You just described yourself,” Judy said.

Sera smiled and rested her head lightly against Sandra’s shoulder. “Told you she’s a genius.”

Valerie looked across the table at Sera. “Go ahead. Tell your Mama what you found at the site.”

Sera sat up a little straighter. “It was a partially collapsed facility northwest of the Bend. Hidden deep in an old volcanic spill zone. We were expecting data nodes or maybe long-dead servers.”

Judy leaned forward slightly, eyes narrowing with curiosity.

“But inside,” Sera continued, “we found fragments. Just pieces, like shattered prototypes.”

Sandra picked up from there, her tone quieter but clear. “Looked like early-stage Relic tech. Incomplete, maybe pre-consumer testing. No interface signals, no Engram fragments. Just... raw data banks sealed in shell casings.”

Judy’s expression didn’t shift, but her eyes grew still.

“No neural signatures?” she asked.

“None,” Sandra confirmed. “We scanned twice. Just experimental memory systems. But the storage matrix..”

Sera nodded. “It was familiar. Like stripped-down versions of what Arasaka used for their first batch engram implants.”

Valerie watched Judy closely, saw the weight of memory flash across her face even as she stayed composed.

“And the communications relay?” Judy asked.

Sandra pulled her focus back to the present. “Most of the raw storage was useless. But there was one segment encrypted, buried in obsolete code. I cracked it last night.”

Valerie smiled faintly. “Tell her.”

Sandra met Judy’s gaze. “It’s a communication scaffold. Relay grid architecture. Something lightweight we can repurpose. No surveillance hooks, no Arasaka fingerprints.”

Sera leaned forward again, excited. “With some engineering help, we can build a nomad-spanning relay chain. Not reliant on corps. Our own private net.”

Judy blinked once, slow. Then let out a soft breath. “You’re serious.”

Sandra nodded. “I wouldn’t bring it to the table if I wasn’t.”

Valerie sat back, letting the words settle between them.

Judy reached for her glass, took a thoughtful sip, then let her gaze drift between them, the daughter they’d raised and the woman she’d married. Both talking about building something with more freedom than what either of them had been born into.

She smiled, and then, finally, she said, “You two never stop impressing me.”

The hum of conversation softened again, leaving just the clink of forks and the sound of the lake wind shifting outside the window.

Valerie reached under a napkin that was carefully concealing the photo, her hand brushing the edge of it still resting there. Her fingers slipped inside, pulling the old photo out from where it had been carefully pressed beneath cloth.

She held it for a moment, gaze fixed not on the others, but on the image itself on what it held.

Then she looked up at Sera. “Got something for you.”

Sera tilted her head, still mid-chew. “What is it?”

Valerie stood and stepped around the table, setting the photo gently in front of her.

Judy’s eyes found it instantly. Even before Sera turned it fully toward her, she knew.

The three of them. Just months after the Snake Nation War.

Valerie and Judy looked younger, faces leaner, skin still carrying the traces of bruises beneath proud smiles. Between them, Sera thirteen years old, hair windblown, grinning with that reckless light she never fully lost. Her arms were looped through both theirs, like if she let go, the world might fall apart.

Sera’s breath caught in her throat. “This was at the outpost... the day after we cleared the ridge.”

Valerie nodded, voice low. “Someone in the trading market had a vendor stall with Clan archives. I didn’t even know this one was printed.”

“I remember this,” Judy murmured, leaning in. “You refused to let go of either of us the whole walk. Told everyone you were ‘just making sure we didn’t float away.’”

Sera laughed under her breath, but her hand stayed on the photo.

“I was scared,” she admitted. “But... I felt like we finally had something that couldn’t be taken.”

“You were right,” Valerie said softly.

Sandra leaned forward, eyes tracing over the image. “You look fierce.”

Sera smirked. “I was a scrappy little thing.”

“You were ours,” Judy said, reaching over and laying a hand gently on Sera’s wrist. “Still are.”

Valerie watched them both, the edges of her smile touched with mist. “Thought it should be here. With us. Where it started.”

Sera nodded, fingers still resting on the image. “Can we hang it? Somewhere in the living room?”

Judy squeezed her wrist. “Yeah, baby. We will.”

For a long moment, nothing else was needed.

Just the photo between them, and the years it couldn’t take away.

Dinner eased into that familiar lull, the kind that only came when the plates were nearly clean, laughter had softened to murmurs, and no one was in a rush to get up. But eventually, the last crumbs were picked at, glasses half-emptied, and the glow of the evening began to settle deep into the bones of the house.

Valerie stood first, gently gathering the photo from the table. She held it in both hands like something living.

Judy met her eyes, and the others followed without a word.

They moved from the table to the living room, the floor creaking softly under their steps. The warm flicker of the digital fireplace danced just beneath the mantle, a long polished stretch of wood nestled beside the television, cabinets tucked neatly underneath, each shelf lined with care.

This was where the most sacred things lived.

Valerie stepped up first, pausing for just a second to take in what was already there.

The photograph of her and Vincent, both of them younger, full of fire. His short red hair brushed back neatly, goatee sharp. Her hair was wild and long, catching sunlight that wasn’t even in the frame. Their arms were wrapped around each other like they had every right to win, like the world couldn’t say otherwise.

Just beside it: Josefina, young Judy cradled in her arms, punk armor on full display. That pink and green mohawk catching all the defiance of a thousand burned-out cities. Ainara and Alejandro stood behind her, pride etched across their faces like carved lines in stone.

Another frame held Sindy Sera’s birth mother with her long red hair and emerald eyes, strength wrapped around her daughter like a second skin. In one hand, she held Sera. In the other, she looked ready to take on a convoy.