The square was left in a stunned hush—no more shouts, no more fury. Just dust and whispers, settling over the cobblestones like ash after a fire. The sudden quiet was almost painfully loud.

  Dane and Gavin worked fast, clearing out what remained of the crowd. Dane helped right Lena Hystien's stand while muttering promises they'd get someone to fix it. Gavin ushered two older citizens back to their porch, hands gentle, voice calm.

  The Kade twins stormed into the square, both full of fire and fists. Their parents were among the st to die due to poisoned water. Their grief and anger was a permanent scowl.

  Dane caught Gavin's eye and gave a subtle tilt of his head.

  Gavin sighed and made his way to the twins. He didn't scold—just murmured something low. A promise to come talk to them ter. The brothers gred, puffed up—but eventually nodded and stepped back. Gavin had become something like a father to them. A hard one. But a good one.

  While Gavin dealt with the twins, Dane headed straight for Elian, his boots crunching on the dusty path.

  His doc was still standing by the clinic, hand pressed against his head, blinking off the daze. Dane's jaw clenched at the sight.

  He was already in full growl mode, shoulders tense, eyes narrowed to slits. "Elian," he barked, voice rough with anger and concern. "Are you okay? What the hell happened?"

  Elian gave him a crooked smile, trying to soothe the storm brewing in Dane's expression. "I'm fine. Just a bump. Spoiled by how quiet it's been around here—I forgot what an angry crowd sounded like." Even as he spoke, there was a weariness to his tone, a slight tremor to his hands.

  Dane looked him over anyway, hands hovering like he might reach out and check for damage himself, needing that physical reassurance. His gaze caught on a faint trickle of blood at Elian's hairline.

  Elian patted him, literally patted him on the chest. Like a dog being calmed. "Dane. I'm fine," he repeated, more firmly this time.

  Dane didn't buy it, a muscle in his jaw twitching. "What was she doing here?" he demanded, voice low and edged with a simmering rage he could barely contain.

  Elian's smile disappeared, repced by a look of quiet resolve. "That's none of your business." When Dane's eyes fred, he added calmly, "Doctor-patient confidentiality. You know the rules."

  Dane exhaled through his nose, the sound harsh and frustrated. It wasn't that he didn't want to argue—it was that they'd already had this fight before. Years ago, back when fresh scars still ached. And they both knew how it ended.

  With respect for the boundaries they'd drawn. The lines they didn't cross.

  He sighed, the anger draining from his frame, leaving only weariness behind. Still growly, still deeply unsettled, but pushing it down for now. Then he pulled Elian into a hug, arms wrapping around the doctor in a fierce embrace.

  A real one, not just a quick, awkward pat on the back. The kind that shuts out the rest of the world and all its troubles. The kind that said you're safe, you matter, I'm here. Elian let himself be pulled in, tension slowly seeping from his body as he breathed in the familiar, comforting scent of Dane. Let himself be grounded, if only for a moment, in the solidity of their bond.

  There was a soft whisper of words into his hair, low enough just for him to hear. "I'm sorry. For this morning."

  Elian's anger had already burned itself out, about the same time he threw that radio against his wall. The satisfaction of watching it shatter hadn't sted long, repced by a faint embarrassment at the outburst.. Enjoying the feel of Dane against him now—solid, warm, real—he gave him a small nod to let him know he heard and that he accepted the apology. Some things didn't need words; they'd known each other long enough for silence to carry meaning.

  Dane rumbled, his voice a low gravel of concern, "Do I need to be worried?" His arms tightened fractionally around Elian, as if preparing himself for whatever answer might come, his breath stirring the doctor's hair.

  "No," Elian murmured into his chest, the doctor's voice muffled but reassuring. "She was respectful. Kind. But we didn't get far. She didn't get the chance before..." He trailed off, the unspoken weight of Mia's interrupted moment hanging between them.

  A familiar voice cut in then, amused but with an undercurrent of wariness. "Is he fine? I can't even see his face in there."

  The deep voice belonged to Gavin. He must have been able to get the Kade twins sent on their way, probably with a stern warning and that signature look that made even the most rebellious teenagers think twice. Gavin was used to Dane and Elian's rocky moments, having been in the backseat of their shaky retionship for nearly two decades. He'd weathered their arguments, their reconciliations, and everything in between—a constant, steady presence through war and peace alike.

  Dane stepped back slightly, arms still loosely wrapped around Elian in a protective embrace. He met Gavin's questioning gaze, allowing the moment of vulnerability.

  Gavin raised an eyebrow, taking in the scene with a faint smirk. "Nice to see you two in one piece. More or less." His eyes scanned over them both, checking for injuries with the casual expertise of a veteran.

  He looked around the ruined square, surveying the aftermath. The damage wasn't permanent—a few knocked-over crates, a broken stand, bruised pride. But it was a mess all the same.

  "Well," he said dryly, "there goes our peaceful town hall meeting."

  Elian gave Dane a gentle nudge, anchoring him back to the present, and stepped out of the hug with obvious reluctance. "I'm going to grab my bag. Do rounds. Patch what needs patching." His voice was determinedly calm, a balm against the lingering tension.

  The two men watched him go, their gazes heavy with unspoken worry and a protectiveness that ran bone-deep. Elian was too gentle for the brutalities of this world—but he refused to be sheltered. It was one of the infinite things they loved about him.

  Gavin crossed his arms, the metal of his cybernetic limb glinting in the harsh sunlight. Guilt pricked at the back of his neck, an old familiar ache.

  "I said something to her," he admitted quietly, not meeting Dane's eyes. "To Mia."

  "I know," Dane muttered, his tone a strange mix of resigned and relieved—at least Gavin was being honest. "My Gen7 sym still works, you know."

  Gavin grimaced, the expression tugging at his scarred face. "She looked like a kicked animal." The rawness in his voice spoke volumes about the Marines they'd once been.

  "She also looked like she might bolt again," Dane added, reading between the lines of Gavin's unspoken concern.

  "Yeah." Gavin hesitated, repying the moment in his mind's eye as he tried to put words to the enigma of Mia's return. "There was... something in her eyes. A shimmer. I know it. I should know it. But I don't."

  Dane was silent for a long moment, reality sinking in like a stone. "Buried under trauma," he said at st, his deep voice ced with the same haunted knowledge they both carried. "Just like the rest of us."

  Gavin didn't respond, just pressed his lips into a tight line and gave a barely perceptible nod. They were all too familiar with that particur demon.

  The square still buzzed faintly with the echoes of chaos, but the crisis had passed. For now. An uneasy truce.

  Dane's gaze drifted toward the town hall, jaw set with grim determination. Meetings, order, pns—these were the threads he could grasp, the fragile sense of control he could maintain.

  "Come on," he said gruffly, already turning on his heel. "We've got a meeting to start."

  Later that night, nearly the entire town packed into the town hall. Hot, stuffy, with a busted cooling unit that hadn't worked in over a year, the pce reeked of sweat and resentment. Bodies pressed together, the air thick with tension and unspoken grievances.

  Dane stood at the front, posture rigid as an iron rod. Gavin fnked him, arms crossed over his broad chest, his cybernetic limb glinting dully in the low light. The sheriff's face was set in grim lines, eyes scanning the restless crowd.

  "She served her time," Dane repeated, his deep voice carrying weight. "Her nd is her right. She has the legal clearance to be here. Whether we like it or not, she's back. And she deserves peace." His st words hung in the air, challenged by the mutterings and shuffles of the gathered townsfolk.

  Lireya stood then, back ramrod straight, her face a mask of cold fury. "My son doesn't get to come back. Why does she?" she bit out, eyes boring into Dane's. Her words sliced through the murmurs like a bde, drawing a heavy silence.

  Murmurs rippled once more, growing in volume. Commander Thane, standing towards the back, gave a grim nod of agreement, his haunted gaze fixed on some distant point.

  Dane inhaled through his nose, the sound loud in the tense quiet. "I hear you. All of you. I understand your fear, your anger." His eyes swept over the crowd, holding the gazes of those who met his stare. "But violence will not be tolerated. Because when you make one person a target, it spreads. Today, our town physician was injured in the chaos. That's on all of us."

  His words seemed to sink in, the weight of them pressing down on the gathered throng. The crowd eventually thinned, people muttering and shaking their heads as they left in clumps, still unhappy but perhaps slightly chastened. Dane watched them go, his expression unreadable, while Gavin remained an immovable pilr at his side.

  Back at the office, Dane and Gavin were elbows-deep in paperwork. Dane was writing the town hall summary like it might someday matter, his brow furrowed in concentration as the pen scratched across the page.

  Elian strolled in, a purplish bruise blooming on their forehead but their arms full of savory aromas wafting from the covered dishes they carried. "Mystery berry pie and mystery meat pot pie. You're welcome. Moozy and Hal send their love." Elian with a wide grinned.

  Dane took the bag and handed it to Gavin, but not before brushing a gentle kiss against Elian's bruised forehead. Elian returned the gesture with a soft hand pressed to Dane's chest, their eyes meeting in a lingering look.

  "I'll run the wand over it ter," Elian said, smirking. "You can help."

  Gavin let out a loud snort, rolling his eyes good-naturedly. Dane, serious-faced but with the tips of his ears reddening, nodded once. "Absolutely," he rumbled, the corner of his mouth twitching upward ever so slightly.

  They sat down to eat, Gavin dishing out food. Dane, soft at his core, fixed a pte and carried it into the holding cell, giving the town drunk privacy with a quiet gesture before shutting the door. He knew the man would be grateful for the small kindness, a brief respite from prying eyes and judgmental whispers.

  When Dane came back, he eyed the confiscated pulse baton sitting in their weapon closet, a frown creasing his brow. "What the fuck is Nezien doing with a fucking pulse baton? I've read every file in this town—he's not a soldier." His voice carried a hard edge, honed from years of dealing with unruly situations.

  Elian shrugged, but Gavin focused a little too hard on his pie, avoiding Dane's questioning gaze. Elian leaned forward, amused by Gavin's sudden discomfort. "Gavin. Gaaaavvvin." He drew out his name teasingly.

  Dane narrowed his eyes, sensing Gavin's reticence. "What the fuck are you hiding?"

  Gavin shot Elian a pleading look, silently begging him not to push further. Elian offered nothing but a palms-up shrug, his expression one of innocent curiosity.

  With a swift motion, Dane reached over and plucked Gavin's second pie from his pte, holding it hostage.

  Gavin nearly wept at the loss, his shoulders slumping in defeat.

  He caved. "They're not soldiers."

  Dane's eyebrow climbed, curiosity piqued. Elian looked intrigued, leaning in closer. "Then what were they?"

  "There are other positions during the war," Gavin said, his tone carefully measured, keeping his voice level to avoid provoking Dane's temper. "You know that."

  "What the ever-loving sand pits does that mean?" Dane's impatience was clear, his words clipped, the gruff tone betraying his mounting frustration.

  Elian chortled, his eyes sparkling with mischief as he leaned back in his chair, seemingly entertained by the exchange. "Spies? Assassins?"

  Dane waved the pie threateningly, the fky crust nearly crumbling in his tightening grip. "Both? Were they both?" But his tone was ced with sarcasm, an attempt to deflect the weight of Elian's implication. This was the Nezien brothers they were discussing – two wiry, cantankerous old men who appeared to be two steps shy of senility as they sat and pyed some inexplicable game with bottlecaps outside the tavern day after day. Bottlecaps, of all things. Gavin shook his head, and Dane made a motion to throw the pie away, his patience wearing thin. Elian, still amused but a little shocked by the turn in conversation, leaned forward, his brow furrowing. "No wait, really? They were both?"

  Gavin sighed, mournfully eyeing his pie held hostage in Dane's grip. "I can't confirm or deny anything," he said, choosing his words carefully. "But what I can tell you is this—twenty-four years ago, back on Drekos Prime, I was on a te patrol looking for Zen-Cyb stragglers. The Nezien brothers walked out of a high-clearance building like ghosts. Saw me. Told me I saw nothing."

  "And?" Dane prompted, his interest piqued despite his earlier skepticism.

  "The next day, the Zen-Cyb leader was dead. No prints. No sign. Just dead." Gavin's gaze was steady, his voice low and serious, inviting them to read between the lines.

  Dane stared at him, the weight of the implication settling over the table like a heavy shroud.

  "And then we come here. First week, they show up in my bedroom. Bedroom, Dane. Told me again—I saw nothing. Then disappeared." A shudder rippled through Gavin's broad shoulders at the memory.

  Elian reached over and gently took the pie from Dane's loosening grip, calmly sliding the pte back to Gavin. "Yeah. I can see it," he murmured, his voice hushed, as if speaking too loudly might summon the enigmatic brothers.

  Mouth full, Gavin added around a mouthful of pie, "You should return that baton. Before one of them comes looking for it." His tone was deadly serious, an unspoken warning ced between the words.

  Later that night, after cleaning up, Dane and Elian left Gavin on watch at the sheriff's office. Dane grabbed the confiscated pulse baton and, on the walk to Elian's pce, they found the brothers pying their usual bottlecap game under the weak glow of a streetmp outside The Rook's tavern.

  He approached the one in the faded orange woolen coat and held out the baton, an unspoken offer of return.

  They locked eyes for a tense moment, Dane's throat tightening as he met the brother's piercing gaze.

  The brother nodded once, a slight dip of his weathered chin, and accepted the baton.

  Dane walked away, feeling like he had barely survived an encounter with something primal and dangerous that he couldn't quite name or understand, his pulse thrumming in his ears.

  Elian ughed softly beside him, seemingly unbothered by the exchange. Or perhaps he simply hid his disquiet better.

  Neither of them noticed the angry eyes watching from the shadows of the dipidated motel across the street, burning with a cold, bitter fury.