I was inspired to keep writing this, except I made a mistake - I hadn't reread the first chapter in a while, and I wrote this while on the plane back from vacation ... in past tense. So I've updated this chapter to be aligned with the first chapter's tense, but my writing style in present tense is v different from when i'm in past tense (I tend to use present for fight scenes, which the first chap had a lot of... but this one doesn't) so I'm sorry if some of it reads a bit choppy.

I also read the first two asoiaf novels while on vacation so maybe some of George RR Martin's style oozed into my writing. Oops!

Also I don't know what those... boxes? are called that you can see in Andromeda. So. I just sort of... made something up, lol

When Sara Ryder wakes up, it's with a start.

The memory of what happened the previous day must have exhausted her, for she can barely recall the details of what had happened. Bright lights swims in her vision as she sits up, her head ringing hollowly with thoughts and memories half-formed. Where is she? It's a cave, to be sure, but she isn't certain of much else.

Her next sense to come back is her sense of smell, and it's damp. The aroma of dew and musk comes off the surrounding rocks, no doubt in part thanks to the odd, verdant moss that clings stubbornly to the glistening surfaces.

She thinks her hearing comes back next, but she isn't sure. All she hears is a ringing silence. Maybe there's a faint buzzing in her ears, but even that she can't trust.

And though she recognized the sour taste of bile in her mouth, it's the rapidly sharpening image of a person, leaning against a cave, that catches her attention.

His eyes are downcast, facial features aglow in an oddly blue-tinged light. His lips are pressed in a tight line, only parting to leash a swear. "Damned thing is broken." To whom he was talking to, she doesn't know.

And as if he can sense her thoughts, his eyes rip from his omnitool and settle on hers. "You're awake," Reyes Vidal confirms more than observes.

"Where are we?" Her voice is hoarse, almost broken.

"Kadara," he says. Sara narrows her eyes. She vaguely remembers the name, to be frank: whispered on a wind, somewhat habitable, they had said, and she had wrenched her head away before the gossipers could catch her eavesdropping.

"Why?" She manages. Her throat is parched.

Of all things, a half amused chuckle comes from beneath the unkempt facial hair. "There was a mutiny, remember, Ryder?"

If she's honest, she hadn't. But as soon as those words were spoken, it's as if a spell finally lifts from her. Sara doesn't believe in magic, but the way her memories jigsaw together at his very words is quite peculiar to her equally-dazed mind. She can recall the gunfight, the loud ricocheting of bullets splattering above her head, the way she was caught unaware in the middle of the Nexus.

And then him. Reyes Vidal. Her kidnapper.

The very man merely quirks his lips into a half-smile. "Do me a favour would you? Can you check your omni tool?"

Sara ignores him. She's pleased to discover that her strength, at least, isn't as slow to come than her senses. She manages to push herself to her feet. Sara hears him shift in response to her movement, but she ignores that too, opting to merely head for where she swore she can see light filtering through the cavern.

"Where do you think you're going?"

"Out," she shoots to no one in particular, her voice echoing in the cave. "Somewhere else. Back to the Nexus."

His voice is almost amused. "Don't tell me you've forgotten our conversation on that shuttle."

Sara's teeth grit in frustration. "Then away from you."

"Don't think I can let you do that."

"You don't have to let me," she responds, voice dripping with acid.

His hands snake their way around her wrist, a grip far stronger than she had anticipated. "Kadara's a nasty place. Full of nasty creatures and horrible monsters and a terrible, terrible atmosphere." He pauses. "Have you been to Kadara before?"

Sara tries to keep herself firm. "No," is her curt response.

"I have," Vidal says matter of factly, as if that settles it. But she refuses to allow that be the final word.

"So give me a gun," she insists.

And somehow, without much effort at all, his grip wrenches her back. Sara finds herself pivoting around, as easily as if she's merely a doll. Those hazel eyes consume her, dancing with a conviction that's somehow both fire and ice at the same time.

"I'm your kidnapper; don't tell me you've forgotten that too."

.

If Sara had thought he was all talk before, now she's certain that isn't the case. It had been adrenaline that first spurred her movement, but once true strength had returned to her limbs, he had taken the lead. And so they walk.

And Sara can't help but to think Kadara is beautiful.

The sky is awash with hues of pink and blue and gold, the cavernous rocky faces revealing to be the colour of tarnished amber rather than the muted grey she had thought she observed. Contrary to her initial expectation, the same odd smell of dampness persisted out in the open, bright with the tang of sulfur. Back in the Milky Way, it may have repulsed her. In Andromeda, though, the smell of nature and mineral and something was doubly more welcome than the increasingly stale smell of the Nexus; triply so because it reminds Sara of the ocean.

She realizes then where he was taking her. From where they walked, there is a small bundle of what she recognises as the standard Initiative living boxes stationed in an odd semi circle under a rocky overhang. Before she knows what's happening, Vidal half-drags her up the metallic stairs, each one echoing hollowly with every step they take. And then he thumbs in a quick password, too fast for her to see, and before she has a chance to blink, the doors slide open with a pressurized hiss.

Vidal turns to her expectantly. "Get comfortable. Don't touch the whiskey, though."

She can't tell if he's joking. Certainly there's something in his expression that doesn't fit his kidnapper persona, but a look at the pistol that swings on his hip - as well as what she assumes is a shot gun strapped to his back - is more than enough for her her to take him seriously.

Vidal ducks in behind her, thumbing again in a quick rhythm as the doors slide shut behind him. One single inhale tells Sara all she needs; the pressure she had felt since waking up had lifted, and she's suddenly aware it hadn't been fatigue-induced at all.

"Yeah," Reyes says, as if reading her mind. "The atmosphere isn't the most suitable for anyone from the Milky Way. I wasn't kidding about that either."

"I kind of like the smell of sulfur," Sara says, though she's not sure exactly what compels her to say as much.

Of all things, Vidal laughs. "Of course you do. You're a Ryder, aren't you? The rumours are true."

Sara inhales another breath in - it truly reminds her of the Nexus now, complete with that lingering tinge of staleness. "What rumours?" she asks.

Vidal's smile is back. "That you attract things that are most likely to harm you." And then he reaches behind a table. Her fist clenches instinctively, biotic energy pooling at her fingertips ... before his hand produces a - bottle of whiskey, as it were. Vidal's eyes never leave hers, even as he tips the bottle in her general direction before taking a generous swig.

Sara says nothing as he places the bottle back on the table with a satisfied groan. The glass echoes oddly against the metallic surface. "You drink, Ryder?"

"Not really," she replies, wooden.

Vidal's expression doesn't falter. "I must confess, I do remember seeing you at a bar first." Any potential reply dies in her throat; that night seemed so long ago. If Reyes had been nostalgic at all, he doesn't show it. "I'm not sharing, by the way." He half-chuckles at his own joke; Sara merely crosses her arms.

"Where are we?" she tries instead.

Vidal doesn't answer her before he took another generous swig. "A standard issue living box, Ryder. If you meant outside, though," he adds, somewhat cheekily, "settlement 2. Settlement 1 is above us, where the initial exploration team landed."

Sara decides she doesn't like the way he trickles information to her. It was no less satisfying that hammering a tap into a tree, only to receive a few droplets of water instead of a steady stream. Nevertheless, she does gather something from his words.

"You were a pilot."

"Once, sure," he gives her. And curiously, the bottle doesn't tip back this time - he merely eyes her over the lip of the rim. "Are we anyone now that we're not on the Nexus?"

"You're a kidnapper," Sara says automatically.

After another mouthful of whiskey, he only laughs.

.

The door slides open.

Sleep was still thick behind Sara's eyelids, and the filtered light did nothing to chase it away. She forces her body upright, disrupting the sheets underneath her.

Reyes slides his way inside, pushing his helmet off and setting on the table. As fast as that tang of salt had filled her nostrils, the doors hisses shut again.

Sara pouts. "I was enjoying that."

"The smell of poisonous sulfur in the air?" He clicks his tongue. "You really like your flames, don't you, little moth?"

It's a bit of an odd nickname, sure, but he'd been calling her that recently, and maybe two days with no one but each others company had grated on him the same way it had grated on her. It's made worse with the increasingly stale smell of air and the food rations that they had rustled up, all a part of the standardized box that she had learned once belonged Reyes here in Kadara, a lifetime not too long ago.

Her nose wrinkles as he heaves what he had brought in over his shoulder, an odd animal that could've been a pyjak, and has a physiology that kind of reminds her of some game back on Earth.

The contemplations swirl in Sara's mind before she notices him grabbing the kitchen knife. "Is that even edible?" she mutteres.

Reyes must have heard her, for his knife pauses at the flank of whatever creature he had slain. He only laughs again, which she had also learned to be a common response of his when he thinks the answer was obvious. It is, both obvious and edible. Doesn't stop her nose from scrunching, though, as Reyes begins to cut away the hide.

"Fetch me a towel, won't you?" His tone is nonchalant. The sleep truly gone from her eyes now, she slides out of bed and walks around him, ignoring the sounds of sawing as she flips open a cabinet and pulls out a towel or two. Before long, the previously off-white linens stain to a curious shade of bright red; Reyes had flipped a pan onto the stove and the smell of frying meat begins to waft in the air.

"Better than the smell of staleness, isn't it, Ryder?"

She ignores him and the numb clawing of her oatmeal-and-dehydrated-foods-trained stomach. "Don't read my mind."

He laughs again. "If anyone could do that, it'd be you, little moth."

She re-scrunches her nose. She'd tried threatening him with biotics, that first night. And he had invited her to, until he told her that, even if she had taken possessions of his firearms, she wouldn't survive on Kadara. The toxic atmosphere would kill her if she left the box, "and dying alone is a much more grizzly fate than if you have a companion. And besides," he had pulled out yet another disarming mystery object from under the table - this time, a small box-like package. "I have cards."

They had played a lot of cards. Poker, mainly. He was good at Poker. And they'd talked, but Ryder knew most of the time he merely was deflecting or redirecting her questions, as masterful as his bluffing. And he let her take the bed, an odd gesture from a kidnapper in her opinion, but she wouldn't complain. If he was going to treat her with some form of hospitality, she'd take it, even though she didn't understand his motives. "You're a shit kidnapper," she'd told him the second night - and of course, he'd only laughed at that.

Sara decides that the meat is odd. Tough yet chewy, a flavour that isn't quite bacon. And salty, too, but maybe that's the defining feature of Kadara. Salty.

By the time she's done eating, Reyes had made a rather harsh work of the rest of the carcass. Another portion sizzles on the pan as he hauls the remains out0 and disposes of them who knows where before returning. "Your omni tool?" he asks once he's settled back in front of the cooking food.

She blinks, then looks down at her wrist.. A few turns and some useless information later, "nothing," she admits.

Reyes frowns. He tips the meat onto a plate and slides it across the counter, not bothering to start eating before he fixes his own wrist in front of him. He had tried to fix his omnitool when they first arrived, but Sara knew it was no more than mere fiddling. She could've offered to help. She didn't.

His frown only grows deeper before he sighs and cuts himself a piece of meat, chewing derisively. Sara stares at him, watching his jaw move with each chew. And then her gaze flicks to his wrist. "Let me take a look," Her voice says, and she doesn't really know why it does.

Vidal looks just as intrigued. "At what?"

"Your omni tool." At his blank gaze, Sara clicks her tongue. "I didn't just sit at the Nexus twiddling my thumbs. I helped with a bit of the tech department in the Initiative back in the Milky Way, you know."

Reyes doesn't respond right away. "Guess there are some hidden depths to you yet," he finally says with a twinkle of amusement, and he thrusts his arm out. She takes a precursor glance, twisting his arm to catch certain facets of light, and immediately spots a few things off with it. A couple of the inner machinations just slightly offset overtime, seemingly nothing but enough to throw off the delicate technology.

"Toolset," she calls, her eyes never leaving that little bugger alone. When she hears the small package slide across the counter, Sara can swear she can also sense a lingering respect coming from him.

She sets herself to work, listening to the sounds of him chewing and what almost seems like humming. She can feel his eyes on her, watching her fiddle with each piece as she carefully teases each layer of machinery from each other. "There," she proclaims as she set the cover back on. Reyes withdraws his arm and gives it a whirl, and the screen hums to life.

"Thanks Ryder," he says lazily as Sara can see him scrolling through unread messages, which there seems to be a lot of. "I -" he cuts himself off, his eyes suddenly sharp.

"What?"

"Jien is dead," Reyes says stiffly. The head of the initiative, Sara knows. She can remember meeting her a few times, with her father. Emotion suddenly swells at her throat - another link to her family, gone - but Reyes continues. "Kelly defected."

"Sloane?" The head of security, with her bright eyeshadow and stern gaze?

Reyes doesn't immediately reply. "She led the uprising. Ryder-" he suddenly adds, looking up. When they catch hers, chills race down her spine.

"- They're coming here."

.

And just like that, Reyes Vidal - whatever he had become in those three days together - is her captor again.

When he fits the sole helmet over her head, Sara bites back a protest. There's only one spare suit that's stashed away in the living space, and therefore only one helmet to protect them from the sulfur. Maybe she's developing some form of Stockholm Syndrome. Though truthfully, Reyes hadn't treated her badly at all. Or maybe that was just part of the whole thing in the first place.

They pack lightly. She could tell the plan was forming in his head. He doesn't explain much. "Didn't think they would come… Never thought they'd kill her. We need to go…. Sorry Ryder, I know you liked the sulfur."

There's almost a rueful smile on his face, and she's suddenly glad the tinted glass obscures her expression. Now, it seemed like a silly thing to preferred, almost selfish, entirely ignorant to the uprising that had broken out around her - literally. She's being herded again, like when they left the Nexus, and though the whole thing couldn't have taken place for more than an hour, in this moment it feels like it had been a lifetime.

There's a transport vehicle sitting parked a ways away. Something in Sara feels a bit betrayed, if not annoyed, that she hadn't noticed it the first time around.

Once the doors hissed shut, Sara wrestles off the helmet. "Where are we going to go?"

"Settlement 2-B," Reyes responds, his eyes never leaving the wheel. The vehicle buzzes with life, a quiet hum underneath her rear. "It's not too far from here."

"2-B? What's at 2-B?"

There's a long silence, and Sara can tell in her gut that he was very much considering not answering. Then he must've decided to otherwise, though his tone careful. "People," he says vaguely. And yet those two syllables on caused a sudden discomfort to settle in the base of her stomach.

"People? Why didn't we go there in the first place?"

"I need to have some hidden depths too," Reyes says lightly, but Sara knows better.

She knows him better, now.

So Sara says nothing, only pressing her lips thinner and thinner with every passing minute on the transport. He somehow knows the roads quite well, and part of her grows increasingly angrier. Here she thought they were the only two on Kadara from the Milky Way, when he knew of others who were there. It frustrates her, makes her feel silly, makes her feel powerless, makes her feel like a hostage.

"Helmet," he finally says. She follows his order and plucks her helmet back on, the accompanying hiss guaranteeing the helmet's life support system active. And then he parks the vehicle right by another cave.

"This place nearly killed us last time," Sara mutters.

Reyes ignores her, until he hops out the vehicle and releases her door. "Don't be dramatic," he says as Sara fell in step behind him.

It isn't the same cave as before, Sara knows at least that much based off their travel distance alone. Yet Vidal stalks his way through the twists and turns of the cave system, as if he's been here before. She can't smell anything beyond the helmet, Sara notes idly as she follows him with growing caution. Where is he taking her? The theories swirl abundant, each more ludicrous than the one before.

What she doesn't include in her theories is a semi translucent blue barrier, a bubble around - she squints - a small settlement that's further along than the deserted 2.

And 2-B is certainly not deserted.

Reyes steps through the bubble first, and then she does. Her body already feels lighter, like it had the first time they'd entered his standardized box. She doesn't need his gestures to know it's safe to take off her helmet; she was also surprised that the air smelled clean. And maybe only slightly tinged with sulfur.

"People?" Sara asks quietly.

Reyes doesn't lift his sight from the settlement, the quiet hustle and bustle of civilization that she had missed these past three days. "Hidden depths," he corrects suddenly, and part of his voice seems like he regretted exposing them, too.