The pale morning light filtered through half-closed blinds, striping the kitchen in gold. The smell of spice and heat lingered in the air.

  Elian's back was arched over the kitchen table, palms ft against the worn wood, chest heaving with each ragged breath. A bead of sweat traced the curve of his brow, catching the dusty sunbeams that snted across his face. His curls clung damply to his neck, dark tendrils stark against the flushed olive of his skin.

  Behind him, Dane's calloused hands gripped Elian's hips with an unyielding intensity, guiding their movements with a harsh, relentless rhythm. The sheriff's breath was hot and uneven against Elian's neck, his jaw clenched as he fought to maintain control. Elian could feel the tension coiled in Dane's muscles, the raw need that drove him.

  "Is this okay?" Dane's voice was low, rough, a rasp in Elian's ear. The question was barely audible, but it hung between them, heavy with meaning.

  Elian nodded, his breath catching as Dane thrust deeper. "Yes," he gasped. "Yes, it's..." He couldn't find the words to describe the storm of sensation that coursed through him, the way his body responded to Dane's touch. He could only hold on, his fingers digging into the worn wood of the table as they moved together.

  Their bodies collided with a force, each thrust, each gasp, the kitchen around them faded away, repced by the heat of their skin, the ragged sound of their breathing, the raw, electric connection that bound them together.

  The tension built, coiling tighter and tighter, until Elian felt like he was teetering on the edge of a precipice. He could feel Dane's release approaching, the way his movements grew more frantic, more erratic.

  Elian's voice cracked, a raw, guttural sound that echoed through the kitchen. He could feel the tension in his body, the coiled spring of pleasure winding tighter and tighter. "I'm coming—" he gasped, his fingers digging deeper into the worn wood of the table.

  His breath hitched as each thrust came harder now, less controlled.

  There was a knock at the door, but neither heard it over the table's protesting creaks and Dane's low grunt of pleasure. The sun had barely lifted above the horizon, but their world had narrowed to heat and friction and grounding each other with every desperate movement. Elian's fingers dug into the worn wood, knuckles white with the effort of holding himself steady as Dane drove into him again and again. Dane's breath came in harsh pants, his broad chest sheened with sweat, muscles tensing with each powerful thrust.

  Outside, Mia stood with a handmade package in her hands, carefully wrapped in a box and tied with braided twine. She tilted her head, brow furrowing slightly. She could've sworn she'd heard something—a voice, maybe, muffled but deep. It had sounded like "Come in." The hint of a frown tugged at her lips as she considered turning away, but the package was meant for Elian. Shrugging, she gently pushed the door open.

  She stopped, eyes going wide at the scene before her. Heat flooded her cheeks as she took in Elian, bent over the table, Dane's muscur form looming over him, hips snapping forward in a relentless rhythm. For a heartbeat, everything seemed frozen—then Elian twisted his head, gaze locking onto Mia with a look of pure mortification.

  Mia didn't gasp. Didn't sm the door. Thanks to the symbiote, her emotional response was filtered, buffered into something clean and calm. The thought she had instead was simple, clear, and accompanied by a rising flush in her neck:

  "Huh. That's really fucking hot."

  She stepped in just far enough to reach the table, her movements unhurried and composed. With precise, quiet care, she pced the package down on the corner, right next to Elian's twitching hand. A faint smirk tugged at the corner of her mouth as she turned and walked out, leaving the two men in their heated tangle.

  Dane had made eye contact with her mid-thrust, eyes wide with shock. Elian blinked, breath catching as her presence registered, his cheeks flushing crimson. But by then, Mia was already gone, the door swinging shut behind her with a soft click.

  Dane froze, panting heavily, his forehead pressed against Elian's sweat-slicked spine. His hips stilled abruptly, the rhythmic creaking of the old table falling into silence. A bead of sweat trickled down his temple as he struggled to process the reality of Mia's unexpected presence and swift departure.

  His muscles tensed, jaw clenched as the thrill of release gave way to a wave of embarrassment and disbelief. "At least one of us got to finish," he muttered gruffly, pulling away from Elian's warmth.

  Elian let out a breathy ugh, still catching his own. "Seriously?" he murmured, voice rough but amused. "You're worried about that now?"

  Dane didn't answer. Just ran a hand through his disheveled hair, already reaching for his clothes like the shame would go away if he got dressed fast enough.

  Elian propped himself on one elbow, watching him with a zy, affectionate look. "You know I'd never leave you hanging on purpose, right?"

  Dane froze with one boot half on.

  "El," he said gruffly, eyes still on the floor, "I'm fine. It's not about that. It's just—she saw. And I—"

  "Got flustered," Elian finished for him, a knowing smile tugging at his lips. "Which is ridiculous, because you're the man who stared down two drunk terraformers with a broken beer bottle and a pipe."

  Dane muttered something unintelligible under his breath and vanished down the hall, still naked as the day he was born, leaving Elian smirking behind him.

  He could hear Elian puttering around in the kitchen. When he came back out, fully dressed in uniform, Elian was standing barefoot by the table, dressed only in a robe, holding the unwrapped package like it was made of starlight.

  It was a coffee maker. Compact, sleek, hand-built with obsessive precision. The brushed metal casing was etched faintly with design flourishes—nothing fshy.. The wiring underneath, the solder points—it was brilliant work. This was not something spped together, nor rushed. This was crafted. Dane felt a lump form in his throat as he studied the intricate craftsmanship, memories of Mia's deft hands flickering in his mind.

  "She made this," Elian said softly, almost reverently. His fingers traced the delicate etchings with a featherlight touch, as if afraid the machine might disintegrate under too much pressure. "She built this..."

  Dane took a slow step closer, his boots scuffing against the worn floor. He stared, transfixed, at the solderwork, the shape of the handle, the wiring style. He'd seen it before, this style, countless times around the city in the st few weeks.

  "Virelli left this for you? As a gift?" Elian nodded, beaming. He reached next to the box and showed Dane the note Mia had left inside. In blocky text, it simply said "Thank you for listening."

  Dane stared harder, his brow furrowing as he studied the intricate machine. And then something clicked into pce, like tumblers in a lock aligning. He leaned down, pressed a distracted kiss to Elian's temple, and turned on his heel, walking out the door like a man chasing a ghost, his coat fpping behind him.

  Elian didn't even notice Dane's abrupt departure. He was too busy preparing the coffee maker, lost in the simple ritual of grinding beans and measuring water.

  Dane stalked into the town square, boots thudding hard against the packed sand. He pulled his compact datapad from the inside of his coat—like a modern detective's notebook—and began cataloguing the changes around him, his eyes narrowed.

  The lights that no longer flicker intermittently.

  Water pressure back to optimal levels, no more annoying sputters.

  Atmospheric sensors are reporting clean data, with no traces of contaminants.

  Upgrades. Not just repairs. Someone had systematically improved half the systems in town and hadn't said a word about it. Dane's jaw clenched as he realized the implications.

  The Nezien brothers watched from their bottlecap table as Dane walked past, his shoulders tense. One of them raised a crooked finger and pointed to a freshly patched vent shaft outside the bakery, the metal gleaming in the morning light. The other chuckled under his breath, a wheezing sound like an old engine turning over, and continued arranging his caps in meticulous rows.

  Dane swore quietly under his breath and turned back toward the sheriff's office, his mind racing. He had a hunch, and he needed to check the logs immediately.

  Gavin had his feet kicked up on the desk when Dane stormed in, the door smming against the wall with a resounding crash. His brow was furrowed, and his jaw was set in a tight line, betraying the barely contained fury simmering beneath the surface.

  "Get your boots off the desk," Dane snapped, spping them down with a forceful swipe of his hand.

  "What the fuck? Seriously?" Gavin yelped, sitting up abruptly, his chair screeching against the floor. His eyes widened in surprise at Dane's sudden burst of aggression.

  "Who did you hire to fix the town?" Dane demanded, his voice low and gravelly, like the rumble of distant thunder.

  "I told you—no one. I couldn't find anyone." Gavin looked genuinely baffled, his brows knitting together in confusion. Dane drilled him with a hard look, his eyes narrowing to mere slits. "You didn't hire Virelli to do the repairs?"

  Gavin's expression morphed into one of utter bewilderment, his eyes widening as he looked at Dane like he had lost his ever-lovin' mind. "Why would I hire Mia Virelli? She is too busy hiding in her storm shelter," he scoffed, shaking his head in disbelief.

  Dane stared at him for a long moment, his gaze unwavering and intense, before turning on his heel without uttering a single word and walking out again, the door swinging shut behind him with a resounding thud.

  He drove to the edge of town and parked at the overlook facing Mia's property, the engine idling softly. The sun was fully up now, its golden rays casting a warm glow over the desert haze that lingered on the horizon, painting the ndscape in soft, ethereal hues.

  The bunker door was shut, the camoufged doors doing well to blend into the mountain, but he now knew where they were located in the mountain face. The pce looked still. Peaceful. But he knew better now, his mind whirring with the newfound realization that had taken root.

  Elian had let her into his home. Not just as a patient, but as a person. Dane had seen the way Elian smiled when he held that coffee maker, a look of genuine warmth and appreciation etched on his features. He'd seen the subtle shift in Mia's face when she caught them mid-thrust—interest, not scandal, flickering in her eyes for the briefest of moments.

  She hadn't asked for recognition.

  She hadn't sought forgiveness.

  She just... fixed things.

  Quietly. Carefully. Better than before.

  And now Dane was starting to see her. Really see her, beyond the preconceived notions and prejudices that had clouded his vision for so long.

  He didn't have answers yet. But now?

  He was looking, his gaze fixed on the bunker door with a newfound sense of curiosity and determination, ready to unravel the mysteries that y within.

  Dane drove onto the Virelli property, the truck kicking up soft clouds of sand that quickly dispersed in the morning light. The bunker sat still and silent, with no signs of life. He leaned against the door for a moment, knocking lightly once. Nothing.

  "She's not here," he muttered, stepping back and squinting across the ndscape. "Probably out fixing the other hundred damn things broken in this town right under my nose."

  Not that he was wrong. That was exactly what she was doing.

  He sighed and turned back to the truck. He wasn't mad. Not really. But he was a dog with a bone now—jaw locked, blood up, unwilling to let this go. He had to know.

  Back in town, he noted Elian's clinic lights were on. Through the side window, he saw the Kade twins moving about with cheerful clumsiness, Elian herding them like half-feral kittens.

  Dane kept walking, letting the sheriff's mask settle back over his features. He pushed open the door to Moozy's, the bell overhead jingling. Warm air wrapped around him, rich with the smell of sweet bread and fried egg.

  Moozy was leaning over the counter, hands moving as he recounted some story to Hal, who, true to form—was standing behind the counter as motionless and sturdy as the building itself. Moozy stopped mid-word when he saw Dane, eyes lighting up with habitual hospitality.

  "Well, look who the sand dragged in," Moozy grinned. "You want some eggs on a bun? Just pulled a fresh batch."

  But Hal, who rarely interrupted anything, said simply, "He's not here for the eggs, Mooz."

  Dane gave them both a look and stepped fully into the bakery, boots heavy against the old floorboards.

  "When you said she was smart," he said, voice low but firm, "you didn't mention anything about her being mechanically inclined."

  Moozy hesitated, then flicked a gnce at Hal. Hal's look back was unreadable—but it held the weight of permission.

  "She's very mechanically inclined," Moozy admitted. "Didn't use to be a thing she couldn't fix. Give her a multi-tool and a busted part, and she'd have it humming like new in a heartbeat."

  Dane slowly sank onto a barstool like the truth had knocked the air out of him. He dragged a hand down his face.

  "She fixed the North Shield Tower, didn't she?"

  Hal didn't blink. "Sure in the hell wasn't me."

  Moozy gave Hal a startled look. "What?"

  Hal just tilted his head, vaguely fond. "That dog of yours? Wouldn't shut up the next morning. Whining at the back door."

  Moozy looked like someone had just handed him the st missing puzzle piece from a years-long game. "I knew he was acting weird," he muttered. "Damn dog never lies."

  Hal poured a gss of cold tea and slid it across the counter without ceremony. "Would've made it stronger, but it's you."

  Dane didn't touch the gss. He stared down into it, mind whirring. "I've been spending the st month thinking she was two steps away from finishing what she started. I had her pegged as—"

  "Yeah," Hal interrupted, giving the bar top a solid knock with his metal knuckles. "Except that's not what you thought after you met her. Not really. She didn't fit the box you wanted her to fit into, and it's been under your skin ever since."

  Moozy didn't say anything. Hal didn't need backup. His words hung in the warm air like hammer strikes.

  "You're paid to be suspicious," Hal added. "But her? She ain't the thing you thought she was. And now she's under your skin in all the wrong ways."

  Dane stared down at the tea, silent.

  It wasn't guilt anymore. It wasn't even a doubt.

  It was something else.

  Something a hell of a lot harder to shake.

  The bell above the bakery door jingled again as Dane stepped out, boots heavy with thought.

  Moozy stood quietly behind the counter, hands resting on the edge of the dough prep table. His smile was long gone.

  "You knew," he said softly, eyes still on the door Dane had just walked through. "You knew it was Mia who fixed that tower."

  Hal didn't answer immediately. He reached up, tugging one of the sleepy kittens from his shoulder where it had curled into the crook of his neck. The little thing gave a sleepy mrrp of protest as Hal gently set it in Moozy's hands.

  "Weren't time to say anything," Hal said finally. His low voice rumbled like tectonic ptes, slow and heavy. "Wasn't anything he was ready to hear."

  Moozy stared down at the kitten now dozing in his hands, letting its tiny cws catch his apron as it kneaded.

  "You know," Moozy said, voice hitching around the edges, "seven years without that girl, without her voice rattling around this pce... it was hard, Hal."

  Hal didn't reply. He just leaned on the counter, cybernetic arm creaking faintly as he folded it across his chest.

  "And Bonesaw..." Moozy's breath shook slightly. "By the end, he couldn't remember anything. Couldn't remember his own damn name. But he remembered her. Kept asking for her. Begged me to go find her. And I—" He looked away, blinking hard. "I ran out of ways to tell him I couldn't."

  The bakery went quiet for a long moment. Just the soft purring of the kitten, and the faint hum of an old cooling unit trying its best.

  Hal shifted, straightened up.

  "This whole big ol' fucked up universe?" he said finally, voice still gruff. "Everyone's just trying their best not to drown in it."

  Moozy gave a tired snort and pulled the kitten up under his chin. "Well, hell. That's about the most you've said in a week."

  "Don't get used to it," Hal grunted.

  But when Moozy looked at him, Hal met his eyes with something solid and quietly reassuring.

  They were all trying. And maybe—just maybe—that girl out there, still fixing things in silence, was trying harder than any of them.