A/N: The full story contains explicit content and is being hosted over at AO3!
Everybody would have understood if the CEO of New Atlas ruled from the comfort of a climate-controlled office, but Rhys still felt like he had to make amends.
The first order of business was finding a place for a few hundred former Hyperion employees. Despite his best efforts at persuasion, the citizens of Pandora were less than keen on hosting permanent lodgers from the company that had regularly rained fiery death down on their heads. As a result, they were still in the midst of a huge construction project run by people with next to zero construction knowledge and not enough robots.
Rhys' delicate programmer hand which had so deftly navigated the ECHOnet was scratched to pieces within hours, and the mechanical side was somewhat lacking in fine motor feedback. Even after he learned how not to break toes by dropping roof beams on them, he couldn't work for long in the desert sun before his scrawny legs would give way under him.
It was one of those days where he ended up sprawled in the shade, desperately pouring water over his face, that he saw Vaughn walk past casually carrying two Technical tyres.
One of the few traditions that carried over from their old life was getting hammered on a Friday. They might throw back a couple of beers with other friends on other nights, but Fridays were for the two of them to keep drinking until the conversation sprung directly from the heart. Sometimes it was fond memories of college, sometimes it was toasts to the co-workers they thought they hated until a bunch of them had burned up on re-entry, and sometimes it just started as complaining about the lack of luxuries on Pandora and devolved into declarations of eternal friendship.
August still owned the Purple Skag, and since his brief stint as a Vault Hunter, customers had flocked to the place. The bar maintained its edgy Hollow Point style, but with room in the budget for subtler security and regular cleaning it attracted even the pickiest of ex-Hyperion employees. Rhys and Vaughn both got massive discounts as a form of ongoing apology, and as the least likely troublemakers they were generally left alone at their favourite table in a dim corner.
There was a new beer on tap, the result of unauthorised experiments at the old Atlas biodome. The early reports of hallucinogenic properties had proven to be false, but it had a pleasant fruity aftertaste and an alcohol percentage that raised some eyebrows. The two men settled into their seats, raised their glasses and started washing away the heat and dust of the day.
Vaughn had looked unusually preoccupied from the time he walked in. Rhys knew that expression well after years of college finals, job interviews and failed-date post-mortems, and he knew that he could wait forever and his friend would still think he was imposing by bringing it up.
"Come on, bro, you can tell me," he said in his best cajoling voice. "What's eating you?"
"Can I get your opinion on something? Like, your honest opinion, not just what you think you should say or whatever," said Vaughn. He was fidgeting with a damp cardboard coaster, tearing it into precise equally-sized squares. Whatever was happening, it was at least a seven out of ten on the stress scale.
"Is…everything okay?"
"Do you think I should get rid the beard?" he blurted out. There was a pleading look in his eyes.
Rhys tried and failed to hold in his laughter out of consideration, and the result was an ungraceful snort. "That's what you're all torn up about?"
"Just answer the question!"
He paused for a moment to take a proper look and frame a diplomatic answer. "It's…very manly."
"You hate it."
"What? No, I don't hate it! It's totally…you know, prophet of the Children of Hyperion…"
"You really hate it."
"Hey, it's not my face, why do you need my opinion?" Rhys threw his hands up defensively. "You do your thing, man."
Vaughn scratched at his chin. "Actually, it's kind of annoying."
"What – why are you even asking me, then? Not fair. That was totally a trap."
He sighed heavily and stared at the wall. "When it was growing out, it bugged me, but I kept it. Helios was gone, you were gone…" he trailed off, still avoiding eye contact. "I just didn't want to look like the old Vaughn anymore. It felt like another life."
"Aww, come on. The old Vaughn was totally cool." Rhys leaned over to give his friend a gentle punch on the shoulder. The mood didn't usually get so sombre so quickly. It was making him a little uncomfortable.
"Ugh. You and I both know that's not true. But it's not just the nerd thing, you know? We were part of this whole other world up there, and it sucked, and now it's gone. There's no way I could go back."
"You don't miss it? It was fun – all that lying and cheating and screwing people over." He knew his smile was unconvincing, but he appreciated the fact that his friend still attempted to return it. "Just don't touch the hair. The hair's nice."
Vaughn's hand flew to his ponytail and Rhys thought he saw a little colour rise in his cheeks. That had always been his reaction to compliments, and it was absolutely endearing. "For real? You're not being sarcastic?"
"No, seriously. It's kind of amazing. Saw you with it down the other day. I'm surprised people weren't mobbing you for like, autographs or something."
The colour graduated to a full blush, and Vaughn hastily tried to hide in his beer. The resulting coughing fit rendered him speechless for a full minute while Rhys patted his arm sympathetically, unable to hide his grin. When his breath came back, tears still in his eyes, Vaughn pulled the band out of his hair, shaking it loose. It really was a sight to behold, falling over his shoulders in loose sun-streaked waves. Rhys was glad he was still on his first beer, or he might have reached out to play with it like some kind of creep.
"Thanks, man. I appreciate it."
"No problem," he said. "For the record, the beard is kinda goofy. Not as much as that weird goth phase you had in college, but you know..."
"We don't talk about the goth phase," Vaughn said sternly. "Unless you want me to remind you about the office Christmas party when –"
"Oh, hey, wow, I totally forgot to say! I heard from Fiona yesterday," interrupted Rhys. "That Springs lady offered her a job as Catch-A-Ride's head of sales. Said it's what Scooter would have wanted." He lifted his glass in the small gesture that indicated absent friends. "She's thinking about it. I told her she'd be great. Fiona could sell teeth to a rakk."
"Neat. Did she say what Sasha's up to?"
"Some kind of gun repair gig, I think. The technical details went way over my head, but she's like a kid in a candy store."
He drained the rest of his beer. Some days it almost felt like he had been born on Pandora and lived his whole life on the ground. The new normal was treating them all well – in his case, far better than he thought he deserved. Every time he passed through the shadow of Helios, he half hoped someone would punch him in the face to even out his karma. In the meantime, he was determined to keep hauling scrap metal until his back gave out.
They always took turns getting the drinks and it was his round. Wading back through the bar with their second beers, taking care not to get stuck to the floor, Rhys was suddenly struck with an idea.
"Heeeyyyy, so, I need your help with something."
"Oh yeah?" Vaughn scooted his chair closer and leaned in conspiratorially. He had been a lightweight his whole life; the first drink had made his eyes glaze over a little. Rhys secretly thought it was hilarious, especially with how bad he was at hiding it.
"I was just thinking…you know, maybe I could work out a little. I'm not much use to anyone out there right now, and you're like…a freaking human Loader-Bot or something." He scratched the back of his neck, doing his best to look embarrassed.
"You think so?" asked Vaughn, smiling broadly.
"Everyone thinks so! You could be my personal trainer. Did your exercise bike survive the crash?"
"I can't tell if you're kidding, but I…never went back to my office. I figured either everything was gone, which would have been too depressing, or everything was still there, which would have been too depressing, but like, in a different way." He traced the rim of his glass with one finger, staring at the reflections in his drink.
Rhys was suddenly animated, and not just from the alcohol hitting his bloodstream. "Maybe we should go together, check out the station properly! Man, I hope they didn't reassign my desk. What if my Concordia coffee is still there? You used to love stealing that stuff from my office."
"You know it's probably all rubble, right?"
"No, wait – look," he said, bringing up a schematic of Helios on his cybernetic hand. The surviving sections were outlined in yellow; he pointed out one wing that was relatively unscathed despite being half-buried in the sand. "Programming and accounts – all of us nerds were in this bit here. We should be able to get in through one of the engineering hatches."
"You're serious about this," Vaughn said flatly.
"One hundred per cent. Come on, bro. It'll be fun. Promise."
"Okay, fine, fine." He folded his arms. "You know I can never say no to your terrible ideas. But we'll go after hours when nobody's there. I don't want anyone to see me having some kind of flashback-induced breakdown."
"Might undercut your authority," teased Rhys.
"Yup. 'Uneasy is the head that wears the crown', and all that," Vaughn sighed. "We'll go tomorrow and get this out of your system, but you can't say I didn't warn you."
They shook on it and raised their glasses once more. Planning a foolish adventure in a shady bar brought back the best kind of memories, and soon they were joking and laughing and feeling like they did just after graduation, inboxes bursting with job offers and their whole lives ahead of them.
Later, weaving his way to the station through the newly bustling streets of Hollow Point, Rhys found himself with a little spring in his step that he hadn't felt in months.