Dane headed to the clinic te in the afternoon, his boots kicking up dust along the familiar path. He had heard on the radio while he was on patrol that Hal called into Elian asking if he could see Moozy. Apparently the baker had a bad burn on his forearm—something about a mishap with the oven—and it concerned Dane enough that he decided to go see for himself. Small injuries had a way of becoming serious problems out here, where medical supplies weren't exactly abundant.

  He wasn't going to let anything endanger Elian's morning coffee, as they'd been having a great, solid track on the good days in their retionship. They hit two weeks without a single fight—a personal record that Dane quietly celebrated by actually smiling at townsfolk occasionally. The morning ritual of warm bread from Moozy's bakery paired with Elian's sleepy smile over steaming mugs had become something of an anchor in Dane's life, and he intended to protect it.

  Entering the clinic, he saw Moozy sitting on a cot, one arm outstretched as Elian gently ran a scan over a raw, angry burn that traced the edge of his forearm. The big man's face was pinched in a grimace that looked more annoyed than pained, flour still dusting his beard despite the injury.

  "How the hell does a baker burn himself after forty years of not doing it?" Dane asked with a smirk, leaning against the doorframe. His eyes tracked Elian's careful movements, the way the doctor's slender fingers hovered just above the wound without touching it. The morning light from the clinic's windows caught in Elian's dark curls, and Dane felt that familiar tug in his chest he'd been experiencing more frequently these days.

  Moozy, grinning despite the antiseptic sting, lifted a bandaged hand. "Been a discombobuting week, Sheriff. Can't say I remember the st time I even felt my oven as hot as it got today." His deep chuckle rumbled out, a familiar sound that eased the tension in Dane's shoulders.

  Elian, ever gentle, nodded as he applied a salve to the burn. "Stress does strange things to the body. Even throws off rhythm." His warm eyes met Dane's for a moment, a silent acknowledgment passing between them.

  Moozy snorted, wincing slightly. "I ain't danced in years. That rhythm's long gone." But there was a wistful look in his eyes, memories of a time before the war, before this moon, flickering behind his gruff exterior.

  He went quiet for a moment, then added more softly, "Heard about the mess at the cemetery. That poor girl."

  Dane didn't miss the shift in tone—less anger, more regret. Maybe the storm had shaken more than rooftops. Moozy's gruff exterior seemed to soften, the weight of old memories creasing his brow.

  "Lireya screamed at her, and that was ugly," Dane admitted, his voice low. "Then Commander Vale..." He paused, scrubbing a calloused hand down his face as if trying to wipe away the image. "He grabbed her. Smmed her into the wall. Started choking her." Dane swallowed hard, the memory still raw. "I pulled him off. She hit the stone hard. Could've been worse than it was."

  Elian frowned, but he stayed quiet. Moozy's brows furrowed beneath the sheen of painkillers as he studied Dane with a long, assessing look that cut straight through the sheriff's defenses.

  "She okay?" The baker's voice was rough but tinged with unmistakable worry.

  Dane nodded slowly, his expression grim. "Yeah. Walked away. Shook up. Bleeding. Then not. Elian and I checked on her ter. She was fine." But his tone betrayed the lingering unease that simmered beneath the surface.

  Moozy's lips pressed into a tight line as he absorbed the information. After a weighted moment, he gnced toward Elian, who gave the smallest nod-encouragement, maybe curiosity, maybe just a shared understanding between old friends.

  Moozy sighed, the sound heavy with memories, and shifted on the cot, settling in deeper as if bracing himself. "You wanna know about the girl, huh? Who was she?"

  Dane didn't answer directly, but the intensity in his gaze spoke volumes. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, every muscle taut with anticipation as he waited for Moozy to reveal the secrets of Mia's past.

  Moozy chuckled, the sound rumbling up from his broad chest. "She was a screamer, that one. Colic so bad we thought the stars'd fall from the sky." His gaze drifted, lost in memories of a time before the weight of grief settled on the town. "Her daddy—Jerren—he was brilliant. Just about as smart as you, Doc." He gave Elian a slow wink, earning a soft, wry smile from the doctor as he tended to reorganize the supplies in his bag.

  "But back then?" Moozy continued, a distant fondness in his gruff tone. "You put that man in front of a squalling baby, and he was useless. The war forged him hard. Called him Bonesaw." A haunted look flickered across his weathered features. "Not 'cause he was a doc—butchered more than he saved in the worst of it. Lost everyone when the enemy torched his town. He was out doing a house call, came back to find nothing left."

  Elian's hands stilled, the supplies hanging suspended in the silence that stretched between them. Dane watched, his jaw clenched, as the weight of Moozy's words settled over the room.

  "Man lost his soul that day. Red in his eyes for years after. But then Caelen—Mia's mama—she caught his attention." A faint smile tugged at the corners of Moozy's mouth. "Sky-chaser, that one. Didn't care about anything on the ground until the day her shuttle went down behind enemy lines. They weren't gonna send a rescue protocol, they said. So Bonesaw broke it. Suited up, stole a medbag, and dragged her back himself."

  Moozy's voice dipped lower, softer now. "But that crash—it messed her up more than she ever let on. For a while, she thought they weren't coming. That she'd been abandoned." He let the words hang a beat, then added, "I guess she was."

  Elian paused mid-movement, his brow furrowing. Moozy noticed and gave a slow nod.

  "They waited too long. Would've left her, too, if Jerren hadn't broken protocol. Found her dragging herself through the brush with a busted leg, bleeding and still trying to crawl." Moozy shook his head, jaw tightening. "After that... something changed in Caelen. It broke a piece of her. Like she needed a backup pn for every damn thing, just in case someone didn't come next time."

  His gaze drifted to the clinic ceiling, his voice now barely above a murmur. "Send her into a spiral sometimes. Hyper-prepared. Overwired. Always looking ten steps ahead—because she knew what it felt like to be left behind."

  He gave a low whistle, shaking his head in quiet awe. "For Bonesaw, that was the moment she finally saw him—really saw him. Saving her pulled the doctor back outta him, piece by piece. And her seeing doom around every corner?" Moozy gave a knowing grunt. "He understood that just fine. Doom's always close for folks who lived through the frontlines. Closer than your own damn shadow."

  Elian smiled faintly, his eyes shining with a mixture of sadness and admiration. Dane listened intently, his expression unreadable.

  "Complicated man. Carved more down than he saved. But who could bme him? War was messy." Moozy paused, his gaze distant. "Then Mia came, screaming with colic like she'd been born angry at the universe. That man turned into melted butter. Didn't know how to fix her, but he tried. I just held her. Rocked her 'til she slept."

  He chuckled softly, the sound touched with fondness. "She might've come out swinging, mad at everything, but once she settled? Once her little world was right?" He shook his head, smiling. "She was the cuddliest thing you ever saw. Loved so hard, it knocked the wind outta you. Gave it freely—like her love and loyalty were the bedrock of the whole damn moon. You got a piece of that, and you loved her back harder, whether you meant to or not."

  He paused again, a long breath escaping his lips as if the weight of the memories pressed down upon his broad shoulders.

  "She was smart. Sharp as a splinter. Absorbed everything," Moozy reminisced, his voice taking on a wistful tone. "Her mama had her on flight sims before she could spell her own name. Her daddy used to joke he had to tie her to the floor so she wouldn't fly off."

  He smiled again, the corners of his eyes crinkling with the memory, but it quickly faded, repced by a somber expression.

  "Then Caelen got sick. And Mia never left. Tavrin—Lireya's boy—he left for University. Tried to drag her along. She could've run that school. But she stayed. For the farm. For her parents." Moozy paused, letting the weight of those words sink in.

  Dane leaned back against the cabinet, his gaze fixed on the old baker as he spoke.

  "Everyone knew Tav and Mia were gonna be hitched. And Kerron—the golden boy of the town. Sheriff material, just like you, Dane." He pointed vaguely in Dane's direction, the pain suppressants making his movements a little sloppy. "Some folks said he had a thing for her, too. But she only had eyes for Tav. Kerron? He was her brother in everything but blood. The three of them were inseparable."

  Moozy's eyes misted over as he looked toward the ceiling, lost in memories of a bygone era.

  "They were gonna save this town. Keep it from falling to the Corp. Mia was poking holes in things before anyone else noticed. Told the mayor, the sheriff, the crops were dying. Water was tainted. But who listens to a grieving daughter? No evidence. Just gut instinct."

  His voice dropped, heavy with emotion. "Maybe it was just her mama's illness. Maybe not. But the mayor and sheriff, they weren't gonna go to SVC with no proof, wouldn't even dare. But Mia, she wouldn't drop it. The mayor and sheriff were losing patience with her fast."

  His bushy eyebrows drew together, reflecting on those turbulent times. "Maybe it was a mysterious illness, maybe not. War did hell to people, with SVE it's hard to know if it was illness or a side effect of the Syms and war." A weary shake of his head accompanied the words, as if he'd pondered this question too many times before.

  Moozy gave a big old sigh, his broad shoulders rising and falling with the force of it. "Mia, she wanted answers, and those boys, Kerron and Tav, they would have followed her to the edge of the universe to help her get them. But bombing the dam? Destroying SVC offices? That never sat right with me. Still doesn't." He paused, eyes clouding over with the weight of memory. "But SVC had all the evidence, the proof was on their side. Hell of a thing to accept, even now."

  The room fell quiet, save for the hum of the cooler. The silence stretched between them, thick with unspoken thoughts and lingering questions.

  Elian finished bandaging Moozy's burn, then offered a soft, sincere "Thank you."

  Moozy nodded slowly, his eyes meeting Elian's. "That girl's got fire. Always did. And if she's back? Well... maybe we owe her the space to be more than just the ashes."

  Neither man replied, but the silence that followed was no longer heavy. Just thoughtful, as if they were both weighing the implications of Moozy's words, considering the possibility that perhaps they had misjudged Mia Virelli all along.

  Dane offered a lopsided smirk, trying to lift the air. "Stop touching hot ovens," he chided gently, though his eyes held a hint of mirth.

  Moozy's belly ugh echoed off the walls, the sound as warm and comforting as the scent of fresh bread. "A baker not touch an oven? The town'd riot," he countered with a wink. His gaze shifted, and he pointed straight at Elian. "This one here would break down without his morning coffee and scrambled egg on a bun."

  Elian's sweet smile flickered through, quiet and amused as always. He knew better than to argue with Moozy's teasing jabs, accepting them as the affectionate ribbing they were.

  Dane leaned back and nodded toward Moozy, assessing the older man's condition. "Well, right this second, you're definitely feeling those pain meds. You wanna rest here, or should I go get Hal to drag you back home?"

  Moozy lit up like a sunrise, his eyes twinkling with childlike delight at the mention of Hal's name. "Is he free? Not too close to shift change?"

  Dane nodded, already making a mental note to swing by the tavern. "I'll make it happen," he assured, knowing Hal would grumble, but it would just be all show. Family was family, after all.

  And something in Moozy's soft expression said maybe home was where the warmth waited – be it in the bakery's ovens or the company of those who loved him most.