Veracity

by NightjarPatronus

Part 1 of Veracity Verse: The 8/8 Cluster sets out to free Wolfgang. A woman with a secret conspires to reveal sensates' existence to the world. Sensates are disappearing faster than ever as a new drug makes its way into the Archipelago. A Cluster in alliance with BPO returns with a vengeance. Our heroes may have won the first battle, but the war is just beginning.

38. What is human?

What is human?

Summary

In which several people get closure and begin to move on.

"What is human? An ability to reason? To imagine? To love or grieve? If so, we are more human than any human ever will be."

— From S1E10, "What is human?"

---

August, 2017

The Cluster and their extended family spent two weeks in London after the battle wandering around the city in a blissful daze. For the sensates, this reprieve meant running into more of their kind whenever they went, forming more connections than they thought was possible. For the sapiens, it was a time to observe.

Dani and Felix spent most of those days talking. It was nice for Dani to get to know Felix without this whole impending-doom threat looming over their heads, but their conversations weren't all that different from before: friendly bickers over breakfast turned to ridiculous cooking challenges at noon (Felix always won, and Dani was impressed with how many surprisingly edible things he could whip up with limited supplies); small talk in the afternoon turned into drunken philosophical discussions at night (Dani always won, though Felix could now stay sober 'till midnight, which was something)…

By the end of the month, Felix was like a lifestyle Dani had grown accustomed to. There was no other way to describe it. So Felix had insisted on seeing her off to the airport in late August after she'd said goodbye to everyone else, and she saw no reason to object.

The smirk Wolfgang had given Felix when they got into the minivan could only be categorized as "unashamedly amused", like the two best friends were sharing some kind of insider-joke about Dani. But Wolfgang had enough sense to not comment and assumed the driver's role in silence. Lito and Hernando had less luck staying quiet, but Dani gave them a look, and they turned to the window and spent the whole ride admiring trees.

The drive to Heathrow Airport was, needless to say, too short.

Felix had insisted on pushing Dani's luggage cart, too, even if his injured arm and shoulder were still bound in a sling. After two failed attempts to get the cart to move straight, Dani suggested they do it together. He spent the whole walk staring at her instead of ahead. She knew this because she stared back.

Dani could see the smile pulling at the corner of his mouth as they walked to the security checkpoint. Not his usual "I told you I'm an awesome fighter" smile, but a tentative one, the one he'd worn when they'd watched Conan the Destroyer in Manchester — when he'd spent half the movie staring at her instead of Conan.

Thinking about his smile made Dani look at his lips, and looking at his lips made her wonder what it would feel like to kiss him. Surely, he'd blush. Maybe he'd freeze, too. Mostly, though, she imagined he'd break into that stupid, dopey grin.

Fuck. The thought of Felix's grin made Dani really want to kiss him.

When they reached the security checkpoint and Felix and Wolfgang had to say goodbye, it finally hit Dani that she wouldn't see Felix for a while. They'd all been invited to Nomi and Amanita's wedding, but no date had been decided as of yet — and she didn't want to leave him with only a goodbye. After everything, a goodbye didn't seem like enough.

"So," Felix started, "I guess this is goodbye."

A goodbye was definitely not enough.

"You better call me after I land," she said, walking closer, close enough for her to feel his body heat. She didn't get how he could stay so warm when all he was wearing was a flimsy (and very orange) Hawaiian shirt.

"Yes, ma'am."

She put her hand on his good shoulder and closed the distance between them, standing on tip-toes so she could look into his eyes. It was one of the only times she wasn't wearing heels, and she wished they were the same height. He was looking at her with a puzzled expression, nearly crossing his eyes as their faces were so close.

Before Dani could think of a reason to draw away, she leaned in, closed her eyes, and gave Felix a close-mouthed kiss, a quick peck on the lips. His lips were softer than she imagined. It made her a little giddy. Why didn't she try it sooner?

And then she let go. She grabbed her luggage cart and pushed it over to the security checkpoint, Lito and Hernando following behind. Lito was looking at Felix, then Dani, then back at Felix, his expression a bizarre hybrid of scandalized and pleased. Hernando blinked thrice and nudged up his mended glasses like he was seeing Dani with new eyes.

Dani felt the overwhelming urge to skip all the way to the gate, but she restrained herself. Instead, she turned, waved and gave Felix a wink. He waved back and — there it was. That grin. The grin she would remember him by until they met again.

"Wolfie," she heard Felix say in a hoarse voice after she turned back to load her luggage onto the conveyer belt, "I need new shoes."

During the flight, Dani scrolled through the photos on her phone, if only to remind herself that this was all real. She smiled when she stumbled upon a selfie from the day she and Felix went to that fancy bar in Soho for Salsa Night. Felix was wearing that same dopey grin, posing in a borrowed suit that was too big for him, and she was smiling, too — half-exasperated at his antics, half-amused.

She set the selfie as her lock-screen background.

Felix did call her the moment she landed, as promised. They talked during the whole ride home. They talked while Hernando whipped out his favorite kitchen utensils and made them all a welcome-home dinner, after which Lito and Hernando curled up on the couch to watch Legally Blonde. They were still talking when her boys decided to call it a night and called Dani over to bed, patting the space between them.

She finally hung up when, an hour later, Hernando pulled off his glasses and burrowed himself into the giant comforter, grumbling about Felix stealing her away.

A week after that was Dani's birthday, three days before she and her boys would be heading to LA. She woke up on August 31st to find dozens of messages waiting for her: happy birthday videos from every member of Lito's Cluster and their extended family, a package from María and Andy… and text messages from just about every ally, sensate or sapien, that she'd come across.

Amanita gave her a video call after breakfast that day.

"Happy birthday, Dani!" she said. Then, cutting straight to the chase, "Did you get that video message from Felix?"

Talk about priorities. Dani chuckled. "I did."

It was the first message she had opened when she woke up. The moment she hit "play", the sound of Felix singing Porque Yo Te Amo blasted through the speaker on her phone. From the looks of the video, Felix had situated himself in a bathroom for the sake of quality acoustics. Unfortunately, it did nothing to hide the fact that he had utterly butchered the tune and the lyrics. Hernando, who was on the verge of waking up anyway, buried his face in his pillow and shook uncontrollably with laughter. Poor Lito, on the other hand, was so spooked by the sheer volume of the song that he rolled over and promptly fell out of bed.

"Wolfgang told Noms to tell Lito to warn you," Amanita explained. "But Noms said Lito's still asleep. So, here ya go."

"It's a little too late for a warning, but thanks."

"Oh, well." Amanita flashed Dani a knowing smile, her eyes twinkling. "So. How's Felix?"

"How would I know?"

That was a lie. Dani and Felix talked every day, and Felix had made it his duty to update Dani on every little aspect of his life. Judging by Amanita's quirked eyebrow, Dani guessed she knew it, too.

"He's in Paris this week to visit Wolfgang and Kala," Dani caved. "He's been whining about being a third wheel."

And he'd been whining about sandwiches made from baguettes. (Okay, we're in France, I get it. This is fucking overkill.) And berets. (They're hats for people who don't know what a hat is, Dani. They're a disgrace to hats.) And escargots. (How the fuck did some rich dude back in history see a fucking snail and think, 'Hell, yeah, I'd eat that'?)

"Mm. Sounds like a problem you can fix," Amanita said.

"I'm not going to Paris, Neets."

Amanita groaned. "You are unbelievable, honey. I meant invite him over! Show him the movie studio or something. He'd love that."

"He would," Dani admitted. "I did ask when we were on the train to Manchester. He said he might. But I don't know. Maybe I'll wait 'till your wedding."

"You sure you can wait that long?"

Dani wasn't sure she could. One week, and she was already wishing Felix was still around, sauntering around the kitchen all smug-like with a pounder of beer. But she put on a poker face. She wasn't gonna prove Amanita right. Not yet, anyway. "Depends. When's the wedding, do you know?"

"We're thinking somewhere around New Year's Eve. It's not gonna be a huge wedding, so I don't think the planning's gonna take forever."

"Four months. I'll manage," Dani lied. "But thanks, for the birthday call and… everything."

"You are unbelievable," Amanita repeated, tutting her tongue. "Fine. He'll be in California then. But you gotta ask him to stay after."

"Alright." Dani smiled. "I miss you."

Amanita blew her a kiss. "Miss you too, babe. Promise you'll ask Felix to stay?"

"Do I have to?"

Dani was asking for the sake of it now, really. She was pretty sure she wouldn't be able to let him just leave a second time. No way.

"Don't make me ask again," Amanita said, putting on her stern voice.

"Fine," Dani relented. "Promise."

---

September, 2017

The last thing Will expected to receive in the mail was a switchblade.

It was the same switchblade he had confiscated from Mavis when they first met. Seeing it again made him chuckle, remembering how different things were the last time he held the blade. As well as first meetings went, their confrontation could have been a lot less hostile. But neither blamed the other. They understood the reason behind their mutual suspicion.

Dear Will, she'd written in the letter accompanying the blade in the envelope (her handwriting was surprisingly neat — he'd pictured her as someone who scrawled out words in a hasty cursive).

I've decided that I don't trust myself to hold on to my old weapons. I keep telling myself that I carry it everywhere in case I need it for self-defense, but I think I'm making a terrible habit of it. A few days ago, a guy bumped into me at The Luz Station, and my reflex told me to stab him.

It still took Will a few seconds to remind himself that Mavis was in São Paulo, even though she had visited him a week back to catch up. Mavis was volunteering with Gabriel at the Overpass Shelter in the city, a chain of homeless shelters created by the Archipelago to help sensates get back on their feet after the war. A few nights a week, she took classes to figure out what she wanted to pursue academically. (Kiira's been asking if I wanted to go into neuroscience, she'd said. So I listened in on a lecture. It was harder than spying.)

His eyes skimmed the next paragraph of Mavis' letter, and he laughed. Riley, who was sitting across from him eating her breakfast, raised an eyebrow but didn't say anything. He knew she expected him to hand her the letter after, anyway.

For all we know — and yes, I know part of this is coming from excessive spy-paranoia — the guy may have been an actual Headhunter. But I don't think that explanation could have sat well with the police if I really did act on my suspicions.

What I mean to say is, my spy days are behind me (thank God!), so I feel this is the appropriate way to move on. You're a cop. You might actually need it sometimes, but what you do with this is up to you. Use it well, since you seem to always have a target on your back. Unfortunately.

P.S. Yes, I'm aware that we're sensates, and I could have visited and informed you about this parting gift ahead of times, but where's the fun in that?

"She's not wrong," Riley said, looking up from the letter after she read it. "You put yourself in a lot more danger than most."

Instinctively, he looked at the cast on his leg. It wasn't going to come off for another month, and every time he used his crutches, it was a reminder that things could have gone a lot worse. "Alright. Guess I'll keep the blade."

Will knew Riley would be a lot less worried if he weren't going to return to his old job. But she'd never ask and put him on the spot. She knew he loved being a cop. Besides, safety hadn't been part of their life since the beginning. Maybe they were making a habit out of this occasional adrenaline rush.

Riley shrugged, having heard his thought. "I can't believe they let you back on the force so soon. Those hackers are good."

In San Francisco, Nomi humphed, wondering why they ever doubted hacking could get the job done.

All it took was a few classified-looking documents and a hospital record — as far as the others cops knew, Will was sent on an undercover mission to uncover corruption in BPO, only to find much more sinister secrets in the process. He'd gotten injured trying to bring innocent employees to safety during the final confrontation, apparently "an internal struggle gone out of control".

Will had told Diego the cover story. The other guys at the station were mad that Diego had gotten Will to spill the beans but kept the secret from the rest of them, but Diego was smug that he was the only one who knew the truth. He was, however, super mad that Will had gotten married in Iceland without inviting him, and would be staying with Gunnar until Christmas — he didn't have to return to work until the start of next year.

(The fuck you need a four months honeymoon for, Gorski? Diego had asked over the phone.)

Riley and Will had said their vows in front of the volcano with the name he still couldn't pronounce. Per Riley's wish, her dad had become an ordained minister online so he could officiate the ceremony. Unlike her last wedding, there were no flower bouquets or white gowns or church bells, only rings exchanged and promises made. The Cluster had visited and stayed, offering their congratulations after.

A grin stretched across his face. He reached his good leg forward under the table and bumped his foot against Riley's, making her smile in return. "I can't believe we're getting our lives back. You sure you wanna move back to Chicago with me?"

"I've DJ'd in most of Europe." She swirled her spoon around her black-with-one-sugar coffee. "I think it's time to branch out."

"Mm. The one and only Riley Blue, traveling across the pond." He took a swig of identical coffee from his own mug. "Chicago's been missing out. Maybe you'll see a couple more sensates at your next rave," he added, remembering the last time she performed.

She nodded and spread some whipped cream over her pancakes, lost in thought. Will waited for her to start. "It's so weird, coming out of hiding," she said.

"I keep expecting to be recognized," Will agreed.

"I mean, we were."

Two mornings ago, Will had gone grocery shopping with Riley. It was nice to go out and get some fresh air, even though his crutches made it nearly impossible for him to carry anything. The shopping itself was uneventful, but their cashier had looked at them, eyes wide with recognition. Their first instinct was to run as far away as possible. And, if the cashier didn't mutter thank you, if they didn't hear an Echo from an unfamiliar mind and figure out they were meeting another sensate, they very much would have.

But even as they made their way back, chuckling about the latest encounter, a voice in the back of Will's mind had asked, What if she turns out to be another Jonas?

It was his dad's voice. His dad had never been the trusting type, and hearing it now, after spending so long trying to forget it, made a shiver creep up Will's spine.

Riley's hand found his from across the table. He was aware of the two rings on her finger, the metal pleasantly warm against his skin. It relaxed him. "Even if she is, there's no more BPO to betray us to," Riley pointed out.

"Yeah, you're – you're right," he replied absentmindedly.

They were quiet for a minute. Will could hear the thoughts swirling around Riley's mind, fragments of words spoken over and around each other in her voice. She was piecing together a plan. Finally, she said, drawing her hand away, "Talk to him."

"Who? Jonas? Why?"

She raised an eyebrow. "Are you scared to confront him?"

"How can we even know if it's real? He's – he's a –"

Jonas appeared by his side. "Yes, Will, I'm a memory."

"Holy shit!" Will nearly fell off his chair, but stopped himself in time. Jonas — the memory of Jonas — sat down without making a comment.

Riley looked at Jonas, then decided this was a conversation best left to Will and Jonas alone. She excused herself and went to visit Nomi.

"My presence in your mind is a projection of all that you know about me, and all that you've ever thought about me or suspected of me," Jonas continued, unfazed by Will's apparent shock. "Another part of your memories of me comes from Angelica. A sensate birth transfers memories. But you don't know all of my memories, except for the ones I've shared with Angelica, and the ones she experienced with me."

"So why did you want to keep Whispers alive so badly?" Will blurted out. He wondered if Jonas, his version of Jonas, would even know the answer.

"I'm not sure I can answer that fully, based on what you know." That confirmed it. "But everything I did since Angelica died was because of her."

"Is that why you protected us? Because she would have wanted it that way?"

"Yes, and no."

Will didn't think Jonas could get any more confusing. But trying to understand Jonas wasn't any easier, even now that he was dead. "You – what?"

"I know I'm not the most reliable person. You were right not to trust me. But no matter what you think about me, Will, I'm not a Headhunter. I wasn't simply going to let you die." I'm not a murderer, Jonas added as an afterthought.

"People have died because of you, Jonas. Angelica died because of you."

At the sound of her name, Jonas flinched. But his expression stiffened back to a mask of calm before Will could catch him at it. "I may have been the catalyst to Angelica's death, but I was not the one to pull the trigger. It was her choice."

"You manipulated her!"

"I admit, I do not care about the effects of my actions on others as much as you would want me to, Will. I'm no savior." Will's mind's version of Jonas, at least, had the decency to speak the truth.

"I'm not a savior –"

"Aren't you, Will? You see it as your duty to fix things you didn't break. You take responsibility for things greater than your own life. All of your Cluster do."

"And you don't." After spending so much time with people who believed in the same things he did, Will found that difficult to comprehend.

Jonas nodded, a knowing nod. "I don't. But I admire people who do."

The realization came out before Will knew he had the answer. "People like Angelica?"

"Angelica had made selfish decisions. Everyone does or will do at some point in their lives. But at the end of the day, she chose to be selfless."

And that choice, Will realized, was the difference between them. Jonas would never have done the same. Even in the end, he tried to keep Whispers alive.

"Perhaps it's just as well that I died," Jonas said before he disappeared from view. "If I had lived, if I had kept Whispers alive, this war would not have ended."

With that last thought, Jonas' presence in Will's mind fading back into the depths of his memory, not to be called up again until next year's anniversary of his death.

Will may never have come to understand Jonas, no matter if he had lived or died. In a better world where Whispers had never existed, perhaps he could have. Maybe Jonas would never have found it in himself to convince Angelica to end her own life had things gone differently. And then, maybe Will and his Cluster would have come to see Angelica as who she was, to get to know her, instead of Jonas' version of her.

But Will didn't live in that world. Still, that didn't mean Will had quite gotten over Jonas dying. He couldn't get over Whispers dying, either, though the two deaths shadowed him in different ways. Whispers' death left him haunted; Jonas' death left him wondering what could have been.

Pelzer's death haunts me, too, Mavis thought.

Will caught a glimpse of Ibirapuera Park through her eyes. Night had already fallen in São Paulo, and she was strolling by with Gabriel, in no rush to get home. Very uncharacteristic of her, but then again, Will had only known her in the context of war.

It's the cop, Gabriel observed, stopping them in their track.

Yup. It's the cop, Mavis confirmed. And he's all morbid here, thinking about death.

Gabriel chuckled, but otherwise remained silent, waiting patiently as they moved to a bench and sat down. Will suspected Mavis would relay all of their conversations to him later, anyway.

"So. Milton's dead. We know that much." Mavis appeared by Will's side and sat down where Jonas was moments ago. She waved hello to Riley, who was sitting still, having joined Nomi and Amanita in watching a movie before their bedtime. "That should be a relief."

"Pelzer's death still haunts you," he pointed out. Then, nodding at the letter lying on the table, "Is that why you sent this?"

She laughed. "It's the first step in my five-year-plan in letting go after I murdered my enemy. And yes, he still haunts me. It helps that he's not a physical threat anymore, though."

That, Will could agree with wholeheartedly.

"But killing was self-defense for both of us, wasn't it?" Mavis asked. "It gets rid of a major problem, but it's not a solution. Morgan's still dead."

And Henrik. And Damien's mom. And countless others. "They shouldn't have died."

Mavis sighed. "You're right. They shouldn't. No one should have died."

"I should have -"

"If anyone, it should have been me," she insisted, cutting him off before he could spiral again. "I mean, when I volunteered, I hoped I wasn't gonna die — of course I didn't wanna die — but I half-expected to, well, die. "

"But you didn't." We didn't.

"Yeah. Lucky my allies happened to be a pack of survivors."

"Not all our allies."

"Not all," she agreed. "But we made sure those were the last deaths."

Will thought back to that night again, that moment he and Riley pulled the trigger on Whispers together. Something had lifted in his chest then, a feeling he couldn't quite describe. It wasn't happiness; killing never had, and never would bring him any twisted joy, no matter how much he thought the person deserved it.

But he also felt better, now that he no longer thought of Whispers every time he closed his eyes. He no longer worried he or any other sensates out there, could be killed in their sleep.

Mavis, he knew, thought the same. "There's one good thing that came out of them being dead." She eyed her blade on the table with a nostalgic look.

"Yeah? What's that?"

"I can keep going. And I can start over."

"You can."

"And hey -" she looked up, meeting his eyes - "you, too."

---

Sun had never fallen asleep in a car because she had always traveled alone. Sleeping in the car would have rendered her unprotected, and if there was one thing she hated being, it was defenseless. It was not a risk she was willing to take.

But when Sun and Kwon-Ho finally got out of the airport, she couldn't stay awake any longer. Sometime during the car ride back, she had dozed off into a dreamless sleep in the passenger seat, pressing her head against the pleasantly cold glass window. She woke up to the feeling of Kwon-Ho shaking her gently by the shoulder, smirking as she blinked twice and registered where they had stopped.

He had parked their car by the front door to her teacher's house.

Suddenly awake, she all but ripped the seatbelt off her and ran out of the car, knocking the front door open. Her dog, Jinju, barked as she ran out from the living room. Her teacher followed the enthusiastic puppy out, chuckling who chuckled as he took in the sight of Sun and the detective.

"You had a nice trip?" Teacher asked.

"Very," Sun said, sitting cross-legged on the ground as she cuddled her dog.

Her teacher looked at Kwon-Ho. "I am assuming he is here to help you clear your name."

"I am," Kwon-Ho promised. He crouched down to pat Jinju on the back, scratching the back of her neck. She turned to lick his hand, and Kwon-Ho chuckled.

"She likes you," Sun observed. It pleased her that Kwon-Ho was able to get Jinju to warm up to him so quickly. No matter how much she had come to tolerate the detective's presence, if Jinju didn't like him, it would have been a deal-breaker.

"I'm honored." Kwon-Ho stood up. Jinju was running circles around him now, sniffing at his shoes, barking in content.

Dogs are good judges of character, you know, Nomi thought. Sun tutted her tongue and shook her head, before lowering herself to cuddle with her dog some more.

"We will come back to get her after we sort things out," Kwon-Ho told her teacher.

It only occurred to Sun the next morning that Kwon-Ho had said "we" instead of "she".

Per Kwon-Ho suggestion, Sun had spent the night at a love motel and walked to his station at five in the morning to turn herself in. Kwon-Ho had insisted on questioning her himself. His Lieutenant had, thankfully, granted him permission, since it had been his case.

Compared to the other battle Sun had recently fought, the trial that put her brother in prison once and for all seemed almost anticlimactic.

"Do you want to talk to him alone?" Kwon-Ho asked as he escorted her to the meeting room at the men's prison two weeks later.

She shook her head. "Come with me."

Joong-Ki was all teary eyes and shameless groveling as soon as she and Kwon-Ho stepped inside, the same mask he had worn when she had confronted him about the embezzlement in her father's office. Nothing had changed except for the fact that she no longer had a promise to fulfill. She had done her part, and she was offered a fresh start when her father decided to tell the truth. Joong-Ki had taken that chance away from her, too.

This was no longer a family matter, but a personal one.

"Please, Sun," Joong-Ki pleaded, his head so low, his nose could be touching the surface of the table. He couldn't look her in the eye. It didn't take a detective to figure out why. "Please. Bail me out."

Sun thought she would be angry. She had asked Kwon-Ho to be here to make sure she didn't lose her temper and attack him. She had vowed that their last confrontation on the street would be the last time they hurt each other.

But she wasn't angry. She hadn't been since the judge had made his final verdict, and she had been freed. Now she felt nothing. "I am afraid that's not how it works. And the punishment for contract killing is much worse."

"Please," he said between sobs, "I'm your family."

Family. Family was the reason she had taken the fall for Joong-Ki last time. But family was certainly not the reason he had attempted, time and again, to silence her.

Pathetic. Wolfgang scoffed.

Kwon-Ho tightened his hold on her shoulder. He had been hovering protectively behind her since they had come in, and for once, she didn't mind the protection. Her Cluster appeared behind Joong-Ki, watching the pathetic prisoner beg for his freedom. They rolled their eyes simultaneously. In a less intense situation, Sun would have laughed.

Sun looked up at the same time Joong-Ki did, but her eyes didn't linger on him. They saw through him, taking in the faces of the seven people who had risked their lives to protect her. To protect each other.

"Not anymore," Sun said before she walked out without looking back.

The drive back to her apartment was a silent one. Sun had moved back a week ago, and Kwon-Ho had volunteered to help, even though she didn't ask. Not that she saw a need to refuse — the sooner she got her life back to normal, the better.

"Is this goodbye, then?" Kwon-Ho asked when they reached her door.

Don't let him go, Lito thought. Sun rolled her eyes at the drama of it all.

Kwon-Ho raised an eyebrow. "Is that Lito?"

She laughed. Lito certainly had a way of making an impression.

Ask him out, Nomi suggested, at the same time Riley thought, Invite him in.

"Not just Lito," Sun said, pushing her key in. "All of them."

Jinju had run to the door before she opened it, barking excitedly. The moment the door opened to reveal Kwon-Ho, she jumped, putting two little paws against his legs. He lowered himself and scratched her behind her neck again. Her favorite spot.

"I can't stay long," Kwon-Ho told her, still standing in the hall. "My shift starts in half an hour. So." He twiddled his thumb. "I guess…"

"Meet me at the park tomorrow," Sun blurted out. "Yeouido Park. By your station."

In a movie studio in Los Angeles, Lito Rodríguez jumped up and shouted Yes! in Blake Huntington's face, never mind that he was in the middle of a romantic confession.

The grin that broke out on Kwon-Ho's face was unmistakably pleased and smug, all in one. "Is it wise for us to have a rematch so soon? You're still recovering."

"Not a rematch." She crossed her arms. "Just to talk."

She wanted to add that if it were a rematch, she would still beat him. But she held her tongue. That was a discussion they could save for tomorrow. In case he challenged the idea, she'd give him a chance to prove himself then.

"Okay." His grin grew wider. "I'd like that."

"Meet me at King Sejong's statue. Seven o'clock."

"That works." He checked his watch. "So I'll see you tomorrow?"

She nodded.

Kwon-Ho gave her one last wave goodbye before he walked down the hall. She watched him go, peeking her head out the door. Jinju nuzzled her on the ankle, trying to get her attention. When he was standing at the elevator, she called out again, "Kwon-Ho?"

"Yes?"

"Thank you."

---

Nomi felt Amanita's nightmares in the same way she felt her Cluster's fears. She, herself, was in-between dreams, dancing with Teagan one minute, riding flying elephants the next. But Neets' whimpers worked their ways into Nomi's dreams until Nomi realized it wasn't part of the dream, but something happening real time.

She woke moments before Amanita did. Nomi watched as Neets' eyes shot open, the dark brown of her irises glinting under the dim light from the window. Neets huddled closer for comfort. Nomi wrapped her arms around her shoulder and pulled her up, so they were leaning against the headboard. They sat without speaking for a while, in complete silence, save for the occasional engine sputtering from car roaming around the street after midnight.

Nomi's Cluster wasn't the only one affected by the nightmarish war against BPO back in August, one that left them reeling in the aftermath even a month after it had ended. Their extended family had shared some of the memories. The fact that Amanita had shot Kolovi had come back to haunt her after they left London. Sometimes Kolovi would come back alive in her dreams.

"Neets," she prompted gently. "What happened this time?"

"I shot him. I shot him, and he fell, and he was dead, Noms, he was clearly dead - he was bleeding. He was bleeding from his mouth, and there was blood on the back of his head and blood on the wall behind him but -" she broke into tears.

"I'm sorry, Neets." Nomi pulled her into a hug. "You don't have to keep going if -"

Amanita shook her head. "No, it's - he came back alive this time." Her voice was barely louder than a whisper. "I shot him. He fell. He was dead. And then his eyes opened, and he stood up, and he grabbed me -" she motioned in front of her neck with her hands - "and he said - I don't remember what he said, I woke up, but he came back to life, Noms. Again."

"I'm sorry." Nomi kissed her on the forehead, and Amanita buried herself face-down on her shoulder. "I'm sorry you had to go confront him. God, I'm sorry I dragged you into this -"

"Noms, no." Amanita's voice was muffled by Nomi's nightgown. "That's the thing: I'm not sorry. I wanted him to die, he - I pulled the trigger after he told me they trapped you in an elevator. And I was furious, and he was right there, and I thought, 'he has to die'. So I don't -" she sniffled - "I don't know why I keep seeing him. In my head, in my dreams -"

"He's gone," Nomi reassured, pulling the blanket over both of them. She eased them back against the headboard where their pillows were propped. "You saw him die, Neets. Hell, you made sure he's dead. He's not gonna come back."

"I wish he'd stop bothering me," said Amanita.

"Me, too." Nomi kissed her again. She swallowed the guilt she felt every time Neets found herself plagued by another nightmare.

Nomi wished it was she who had pulled the trigger. She knew Henrik haunted both their memories, slipping into their thoughts when they least suspected it, but she wished she alone was the one seeing dead professor come back to life on top of that. And it wasn't because Neets regretted killing him. Death haunted people in one way or another, no matter how it happened or why.

"You have enough to deal with without seeing him creeping around your dreams, Noms," Amanita half-joked, meeting her eyes. "I'll take one for the team. I'll be fine."

"You sure there's nothing else I can do to help?"

"You've been wonderful, Noms." Amanita crinkled her nose slightly, a surefire sign that she was in deep thought. Nomi watched her with a smile. "It'd be nice if there's some kind of support group," she said finally, after a pause.

"For people who fought Headhunters?"

Amanita shrugged. "Maybe. Somewhere people like us can talk. People who know the truth about all this."

"There's the Archipelago. But the thing is, we don't really know most of them," Nomi pondered. "It's more like a chain."

"Yes!" Amanita squealed and turned to her.

"What are you thinking?"

"We should get to know more sensates! Leon and the others know a lot. I mean, yeah, if you run a free Airbnb, you would."

Nomi envisioned what an Airbnb-style-house like Leon's would look like in San Francisco. This was something nice to talk about, so they may as well entertain the idea. "How are we gonna find a house that big?"

"Is there a house that big in the city?" Amanita laughed. "Maybe. But we'll need to find a - I don't know, a patron or something."

"A patron." Nomi chuckled. "Sounds fancy. But it would've been so fun if we got all that. Magically. Somehow."

"Yeah." Amanita huddled closer to her underneath their blanket. "That'd be lovely."

By that point, Kala had woken up in Paris, and she'd dropped by to inform Nomi that she believed it would, hypothetically, be a fantastic idea, if only they had the resources.

It turned out it wasn't as difficult to find sponsors as Nomi believed. Especially not if she was part of the most famous Cluster in the Archipelago at the moment, and especially not if she kept in touch with Veracity hackers. Or, more precisely, if they kept in touch with her.

She had forgotten that, with all the new connections her Cluster had established over the past two months, the whole Archipelago had overheard her idea.

A Guy from Veracity messaged Nomi the very next morning with the contact detail of someone looking to donate their old townhouse in The Mission, conveniently a 15 minutes' ride by motorcycle from her apartment. This was someone in the know about sensates — the sapien brother of a reputable sensate in the Archipelago. And then three sponsors called her that afternoon asking to meet up so they could talk business.

They checked out the townhouse the week after. It was a large but unassuming house sitting at the edge of a row of townhouses, sandwiched between a front and a back garden. The slope of the ground elevated it above the other houses of its kind so that the attic had a view of the pier. It was perfect.

By the end of the month, the Lilac Inn had a dozen staff, five rooms, a cozy, second-hand bookshop converted from the garage, and a website. The website would show the place to be fully booked, always. Only a sensate with connections would know who to call, and who to talk to about making a real reservation.

The website wasn't entirely a lie. The house hasn't been fully refurnished yet, and already, the rooms were fully booked for November. After the war, sensate travelers and company were eager to find a safe space to stay, and what better place than a hostel run by a member of the August 8 Cluster and her fiancée?

One of the walls of the townhouse faced the outside, and the beige, white wall was well-worn at this point, with muddy streaks and chipped paint all over. By Hernando's suggestion, Nomi had reached out to Leon to ask if he would like to design a mural.

She had been reluctant to seek out her friend. They had parted on quite distressing terms last time, and she wasn't sure what the expectation would be when she met him again. But she knew he and his Cluster would have wanted to help. But was this a good time?

To her relief, Leon replied in an hour with just three words: See you soon.

Three days later, Leon had shown up in San Francisco with Damien in tow. Nomi didn't expect the kid to come along, though she did know Leon had decided to take him to London. She and Bug were the ones who'd expedited his adoption paper, after all.

"Hi, Nomi. Amanita." Damien gave them a wave. His smile, though infectious as always, lacked the carefree innocence Nomi remembered from a mere two months ago.

"Hey there, Damien." Amanita crouched down to meet his eyes, smiling in return. "Shouldn't you be in school?"

Damien looked at Leon. "Nah. I'm his apprentice now."

"He's working with a tutor to bring him up to speed. He'll start school in January." Leon chuckled, ruffling the boy's hair. "But he's not wrong. He's my finest protégé. Got quite a fine eye for artistic details."

Nomi nodded, happy that the boy found a new passion. "Are you gonna paint the mural together, then?" she asked.

"Mhmm." Damien opened his backpack, revealing paintbrushes and tubes of acrylic paint. "Leon taught me color theory."

"Ooh." Amanita's eyes widened. "I don't know the color theory. You are way ahead of me."

Damien tilted his chin proudly, and for a second, he beamed like he used to do before everything went south, crinkling his eyes, showing all his teeth except for the two canines that hadn't fully grown in.

Nomi pulled her fiancée in for a quick kiss. Kids were drawn to Neets, and Neets had a way of making them smile. Every time they did, Nomi fell a little more in love.

"Paint with us," Leon offered both ladies. "He'll teach you."

The four of them spent most of the morning sketching out the rough outline of the mural on the wall. Leon had designed it on his flight over. Damien had picked the colors, mixing all the different painting techniques he could think of.

The mural was going to be a vibrant painting of origami shapes arranged in a chain against a blue background — an abstract representation of an Archipelago. The islands looked like they were formed on a tangram puzzle, and the juxtaposed geometric shapes would be filled with unique, layered textures, bunched up together like Clusters.

It was eye-catching and whimsically symbolic. It was perfect.

Damien, true to his word, spent the afternoon lecturing Amanita on color schemes. ("I used a color triad in a lot of these patterns. Leon said that was genius.") He spoke in an animated way, flailing the brush in his hand about as he talked in an enthusiasm rivaled Leon's. They filled in the shapes on the lower portion of the wall together, occasionally climbing up an office table that had been brought outside to give them a boost — none of the adults agreed to let him paint on a ladder.

After working for hours on the background, the rings of lighter blue surrounding the islands, gradually growing darker as they neared the depth of the ocean, Nomi and Leon sat back to take a break, watching Damien and Neets stick gold leaves on a purple triangle.

"He's a pretty good teacher," Nomi said.

"He's better at teaching than me, that's for sure." Leon's smile was sad. "He told me he wants to be a teacher when he grows up. Like Henrik. But he wants to teach art."

The mention of Henrik made Nomi look back at Damien, her heart breaking at the thought of the boy losing two people so close to him. "How are you holding up?"

"I'm not used to - I'm not used to the silence. I used to be able to hear Henrik's thoughts all the time, like it was part of my mind, too. Know what I mean?"

Nomi nodded, not trusting herself to speak.

"And now it's gone." Leon's voice broke. Nomi offered him a hug, and he accepted. He took a deep breath and carried on, speaking close to her ear. "Feels like losing a part of myself, not just a part of my family."

"I'm sorry."

"Thank you." He pulled away, sniffling. "People tell me I'll get used to the silence, like a new normal. But from where I'm at, I don't know if I can."

"Hang in there, okay?" she said. Saying you will seemed harsh. Early August didn't feel like so long ago, even as October drew closer.

"I hope I will." Leon seemed to have heard her thought regardless. "I mean, he's not coming back. He isn't. I've accepted that now. The only way to move on… is to move on."

"If you need anything, let me know."

"Thanks." Leon turned to face Damien again. He and Amanita had finished the tricky triangle and were now tracing the outline of a parallelogram in the middle of one of the larger islands. "Gina's taking it the hardest."

"I can imagine."

Amanita turned with a raised eyebrow, silently checking up on them. Nomi gave her a nod. She beckoned them forward, a brush in hand.

"We're keeping an eye on her," Leon said, reaching for his palette knife. We've lost Henrik. We're not going to lose her, too."

"That's good." Nomi looked at the sketch Leon had put on the table, trying to figure out what colors to fill the next shape. "Anything we can help with?"

"You are helping." Leon gestured to the house. "Many of you."

"This isn't the only new sensate establishment?"

"Far from it." Leon shook his head. "Support groups are formin' all over now. Kids' shelters, too. Every third sensate I run into on the street's a volunteer of some kind. With all of us off Blockers, everyone wants to help. It's like we're all making up for lost time."

Maybe we are, Nomi thought.

Leon thought about it as he mixed three shades of yellow paint on his palette. "I think it's good that we're coming out of hiding. Getting to know each other, you know, instead of keepin' to ourselves all the time."

"Yeah." Nomi, too, had met sensates on the street as she went about her day. It was astounding how many people there were like her, how many people she wouldn't have gotten to know if BPO was still at large. "It's been - it's been great."

"It has." Leon climbed up the ladder. "After BPO took everything from us, rebuilding seems like the best way forward."

Nomi picked up a brush and begun the small square with flecks of metallic purple. "It is."

---

Kala could tell Wolfgang was sweating through his shirt, and it wasn't just because of the overwhelming Mumbai heat.

They stood outside the Dandekar Restaurant for a minute without going in. Though the doors were transparent, no one had noticed them — Kala's family was sitting in their own dining room upstairs, waiting.

We'll be fine, Kala reassured in their minds, for her own sake as well as Wolfgang's. Dad said he already talked to mom.

Wolfgang nodded but didn't look any more relieved. Kala took his hand. It was Sun who finally pushed the door open in their place, forcing them to enter.

"You're here!"

Daya had wrapped her arms around Kala before she realized her sister had been waiting for them downstairs. A second later Daya was pulling away again. She looked at Wolfgang, then back at Kala, raising an eyebrow. "We've been waiting for you upstairs. Is this him?"

"Good morning," Wolfgang said, hoping his voice was audible. Kala knew he was aware that he stood out in the restaurant more than he would have liked, and that made him uneasy even before he was to meet Kala's parents.

"You speak Hindi?" Daya asked.

Kala and Wolfgang looked at each other, mindful that Lito was chuckling as he dropped in on this much-dreaded meeting. They were still not used to having all their connections. Even before they went on Blockers, they conversed without the presence of others.

"Oh! Is this part of the connection?" Daya whispered now, pulling Kala past the customers towards the back stairs by the arm when it was apparent that her sister and her new boyfriend was too frozen to move. "Rajan told us. He didn't say anything about languages."

"Yes," Kala said, relieved it was a simple question. "Yes. Language is part of it."

Daya continued to talk the whole way as they walked upstairs. She complained about being holed up in a safe house all day, of having to close the restaurant, and of not hearing from Kala for weeks, all of which Kala felt guilty for. But as they reached the second floor, her sister had pulled her into another hug, and it was clear that Daya wasn't mad, just worried.

They stopped by the door leading to their apartment. "Mom will be pleased that you speak Hindi," Daya looked at Wolfgang, a sly smile on her face.

"Daya, has mom said anything about -"

But Daya had already opened the door, and before Kala could finish the sentence, she saw her parents standing in the doorway. Her father broke into a grin at the sight of Kala, while her mother surveyed Wolfgang, her expression inscrutable.

"Good morning," Wolfgang said again, deliberately in Hindi this time. "I'm Wolfgang."

Daya ushered them all inside and closed the door behind them. Now they were trapped in the narrow doorway, within arm's reach.

"Wolfgang," Kala's dad repeated the name. "Come inside."

Wolfgang let go of her hand to shake her father's, and although he was the one being scrutinized, Kala felt like she'd lost an anchor.

"You're the German?" Kala's mom asked, still watching Wolfgang impassively as they made their way to the kitchen. Kala imagined what Wolfgang must have looked like to a sapien: blond, very visibly foreign, speaking fluent Hindi. Oh dear.

"Yes," Wolfgang replied, not knowing what else to say. You have a lovely home sounded a lot more natural in theory, but with the cluttered state of the apartment — cardboard boxes and suitcases were strewn about, half-unpacked — it just seemed forced.

"Come, sit," Kala's mom offered. It sounded more like a command.

Kala and Wolfgang sat opposite of their parents and Daya, three against two as if this didn't already feel like an interrogation. Kala surveyed the food on the table, all her favorites, things she would have happily dug into but couldn't bring herself to touch right now. Their hands found each other's under the table again. Daya gave them a knowing wink.

Her dad smiled, a warm smile, but it only made Wolfgang's heart beat faster. Kala could feel it beating in sync with hers. "I heard there was a raid in the BPO headquarters in London. Were you two involved?"

It was not the question they had been expecting. Kala had mulled over the answer to the question they were expecting while they sat on the flight. No version of I saw him doing karaoke, and he appeared again at my wedding, naked, and told me not to marry Rajan would have sat well with her parents.

But she didn't stop to consider how much of everything else she wanted to divulge. And if she lied, she had a feeling they'd know. If only Kala were as good at lying as Lito.

"Tell the truth," Lito said as he appeared by their side, looking between Kala and her family.

She shot him what she hoped was a subtle glare. Now you want me to tell the truth?!

Lito shrugged. "Lies only delay the inevitable."

"We were," Wolfgang said, sounding calm, though he tightened his grip on her hand. "But we're all safe now."

Her mom nodded, a curt nod. "Rajan let us out of hiding a few weeks ago."

At the mention of Rajan's name, Kala's throat tightened. "How – how is he?"

It was more of an obligatory question than one she would have liked to ask. But it would be unnatural for her to merely acknowledge the fact and change the topic, especially since she had a feeling Rajan was not faring as well as he claimed about the divorce. They had only spoken once since she had moved to Paris, and only so he could give her the contact information of the divorce lawyer.

"Ajay was involved with BPO," Daya told them when her parents looked hesitant, taking the liberty to divert the topic away from the divorce herself. "Rajan was mad about that. He was talking to an agent about it."

"What? What happened?" Kala sat up in her chair, letting go of Wolfgang's hand.

She knew Wolfgang was listening intently, too, his eyes fixed on her sister. They had uncovered the truth the same day they found out Joaquín was involved. Evidence of Ajay's involvement was released to the public on their birthday thanks to the hackers, along with everything else.

First Wolfgang's aunt, then Rajan's business partner, though the former was a coincidental relation due to blood, and the latter was a newly uncovered secret. She really was involved with criminals, criminals who led to each other's downfall.

"Rajan said Ajay's Russian contact was one of the heads of that company," Daya continued. "He was funding her operations. But it was weird, Kala — the day after your birthday, Rajan told us we could come home."

Kala frowned, pretending to be puzzled though she already knew the answer. "But how?"

"Ajay made a full confession," her dad told them. "He turned himself in. It was odd."

"Odd," Kala agreed at the same time Wolfgang nodded.

It was a wise choice, really, considering the scandal the newly released information had caused for several other businesspeople who had funded BPO's operations with full knowledge of their experiments. It would mean less time in prison. But the important thing was, he was exposed.

"We should eat," her mom said, bringing an end to the discussion. Her eyes surveyed the couple, trying to uncover some hidden secrets beneath the surface.

Of which there were many.

Scrutiny or not, Kala knew Wolfgang was visibly relieved at that suggestion. Wolfgang waited until everyone put something on their plate before helping himself, likely self-conscious of the fact that the entire Dandekar family was not-so-discreetly watching him out of the corners of their eyes.

The dal tadka was just as Kala remembered. All the trepidations of seeing her family again, of bringing Wolfgang home to see her family again, subsided for a few moments as Kala relished in the familiar taste of her favorite dish.

"I made it just for you." Her dad smiled, pushing the plate forward.

"It's so good," Kala declared.

Wolfgang dipped into the dal tadka on his plate with his naan, eagerly trying to get on her dad's good side. He took a hearty bite before Kala could warn him it was –

Hot, Wolfgang thought, frantically searching for water as he scanned the room. Scheisse.

To his utter embarrassment and relief, Daya pushed forward a mug full of tea, already poured in anticipation. He downed the whole cup.

Kala was the first to laugh, no thanks to her six other selves who did the same in various parts of the world. Her sister joined her a moment later. Upon seeing the pot of tea still in Daya's hand, her dad lost it, too. Finally, after rolling her eyes, her mom let out a chuckle, her eyes softening as she urged the poor gora to get some mango lassi from the fridge.

"You're – you're so – so cute!" Daya exclaimed, panting as she tried to stifle her laugh.

"I'm sorry my cooking has made a poor first impression. Please give my pakoras a chance." Her dad gestured to another plate. "They're not spicy at all."

"Thank you," Wolfgang said, blushing visibly.

Kala knew Wolfgang was grateful for the awkward turn of events, even though his taste buds still burned excruciatingly in protest. The tension in the air had dissipated as they stopped laughing, and her mom, in particular, was looking at Wolfgang with more amusement, the wariness from earlier fading away. Because for all his apparent broodiness and inability to smile at anyone other than Kala (or Felix, who would cackle like a madman when he finally heard of this), he was defeated by a spicy pot of curry.

This little interlude also gave Kala the courage to smile openly at him, never mind the three pairs of eyes that watched them. She reached up to ruffle his hair teasingly as she felt her cheeks burn in his place. Daya let out an aww, and when she finally looked at her family, she was relieved to see all three of them smiling.

Wolfgang grumbled at her touch, then helped himself to some much more benign pakoras. Kala tried some of that, too, just to keep him company. It was delicious, if not underwhelming compared to the dal.

"Welcome home," her mom said. Kala didn't need to meet her eyes to understand it was directed at both of them.

---

Before Capheus said goodbye to Liam and Kiira's parents on his birthday, they promised they'd make plans to visit. He had welcomed them, knowing his mother would love to see her long-lost daughter and her family more than anything, but Kiira hadn't updated him on the situation since. She had visited countless times, but each time, Capheus got the feeling she was hiding something.

Two days ago, his sister finally surprised him by showing him their visas.

For someone who hadn't flown on a plane for the first twenty-eight years of his life, Capheus found it amusing that he was driving to the airport for the third time this summer. What was more amusing was the fact that his girlfriend was sitting in the passenger seat, throwing him endless questions about being a sensate like she had been doing for the past month. In thirty minutes, half his Cluster had shown up to talk to Zakia through him per her request, trying to demonstrate sharing as they explained the pros and cons of having all your thoughts exposed.

"This is weird," Zakia concluded as Capheus made a turn on the highway, following the too-familiar route from memory. "It's like I'm talking to you, but not you. You sound different, but it's not… it's not you. You know what I mean?"

Capheus laughed. "Does it look like I'm possessed?"

"I haven't seen too many horror films," Zakia said, humoring him. "But I do believe you lack the prosthetic makeup of a demon."

"How's that?" He looked at her in challenge.

"Oh, I don't know. Maybe scary eyes, and a hoarse, creepy sort of voice -"

"Zakiaaaaa," he whispered in his best impression of a ghostly voice.

"Hmm." She suppressed a giggle. "That's more like it."

"I should audition for a horror movie," Capheus declared. "Lito, shouldn't I be in a movie?"

Lito appeared behind him, settling himself in a second-row seat in the rented minivan. "That ominous voice isn't going to be your only line, you know," he told Capheus. "You also have to do a lot of thrashing, and strangling, and -"

Capheus turned to Zakia. "Lito doesn't think I can do it."

Zakia turned back and stared right at where Lito was. "Doesn't he?"

"Lito doesn't think the representative of Kibera should be the face of a horror film," Lito said through Capheus.

Somewhere in Mumbai, Wolfgang chuckled to himself.

"Wolfgang, back me up here," Lito called, pulling Wolfgang's consciousness out of his hotel room, to Kala's utter dismay.

"I think it'll be memorable." Wolfgang pointed out, appearing next to Lito.

Capheus snorted, slowing down as they neared the airport. "Says the man who blew up a car to make an impression."

Zakia looked at her boyfriend before turning to the ostensibly empty seats behind them, nodding at where Wolfgang and Lito sat, watching her with identical smirks. "Is someone else here? Is it Will?"

"It's Wolfgang." Capheus beamed, gesturing between his visiting Cluster-mate and girlfriend. "Wolfgang, Zakia. Zakia, Wolfgang."

"Evening." Zakia waved. "That's the German gangster?"

"Is that how you introduced me to her?"

"I told Zakia you fight well, you're deadly with a gun, and you can pick locks. And you're a fan of explosions," Capheus listed, pulling over in a parking space by the gate. "She drew her own conclusion."

Wolfgang shrugged. Of course, he couldn't argue with that.

"He's not just a gangster." Capheus got out of the car and walked around to open the door for Zakia. She got out and pulled him into a quick, impromptu kiss, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt.

"Is he a spy, too?" She asked, pulling away with a wink.

He locked the car and took her hand, walking them over to the waiting area. "I told you Sun is the spirit of Jean Claude, yes?"

"You did."

"Well, I think of Wolfgang as the modern version of Conan."

Zakia paused to think. "Is that the Arnold Schwarzenegger movie?"

"Yes!"

"I haven't seen it," she admitted.

"Ahh!" Capheus was incredulous. They walked in through the automatic door, and he looked around, trying to spot Kiira. "We have to fix that. Have you got plans tomorrow?"

"I have the day off tomorrow," Zakia told him.

"Perfect. It's a date."

With an approving nod, Wolfgang excused himself and went back to Mumbai. Lito gave him a pat on the back before he disappeared to rehearse for a scene.

"What's your sister look like?" Zakia asked.

"She looks like my mother - oh!"

Capheus felt Kiira's glee a second before he felt someone tap on his shoulder from behind. He turned and saw Kiira standing there, tossing a bunch of keys — his car keys — between her hands. "Evening, Capheus."

"How did you -"

"Capheus! Hello!"

Kiira's parents and Liam came over, suitcases in tow. Mr. Anderson, a balding man with round, gold-rimmed glasses slipping off his nose, was taking pictures of the airport. Mrs. Anderson, with blonde hair tucked neatly into a bun and warm hazel eyes, tutted her tongue at Kiira's antics while a grinning Liam offered his sister a high-five.

As they exchanged pleasantries and Capheus introduced Zakia to the family, Kiira slipped the keys back into his pocket and went to unload the luggage from the cart. One of my Cluster, she thought, unveiling the mysteries behind her new skill.

Ahh. Right. Capheus had forgotten he wasn't the only one who had come off Blockers. For the longest time, Mavis and Gabriel were the only things that came to mind when Capheus thought about his sister's Cluster. Is your Cluster-mate a ninja?

They headed back to the car, and Zakia struck up a conversation with Kiira's parents about English literature. Liam looked around quietly as he stepped outside, admiring the sunset and the heat. ("England," he declared, "is too bloody cold.")

"He's a pickpocket," Kiira whispered as she climbed into the seat behind him. "But he says ninja sounds like a good career path."

Both siblings were quiet during the ride back, bracing themselves for the reunion with their mother. Zakia engaged Mr. and Mrs. Anderson in a conversation, for which Capheus was infinitely grateful. Liam, for the most part, was looking out the window, admiring the view.

(You have a lot in common, Riley thought, recalling the time he dropped in on her during her plane ride back to Iceland. Capheus couldn't help but agree. After the initial awkwardness of their first meeting had worn off, he and Liam had met up a few more times before he left for home, sharing stories about Kiira. They had come to see each other as friends.)

No amount of preparation could have accounted for the way mother and daughter stared at each other in silence, close in resemblance save for the indicators of age that set them apart. Capheus and everyone else lingered at the door to Zakia's apartment, where his mother had been waiting for them, preparing enough food to feed a small army. It was another minute before Kiira opened her arms, allowing her mother to pull her into a hug.

"My Kiira," she whispered, looking into her eyes. "I've missed you."

Kiira smiled. "It's good to see you."

Most of the dinner was spent catching up on Kiira's life. At first, they exchanged small facts, hesitant to share the more intimate moments. It was a delicate situation, and no one was sure where to go about addressing the elephant in the room. But upon Liam's suggestion, they had opened their suitcase and brought out photo albums they wanted to share, evidence of dance recitals and birthday parties down to the most excruciating detail. That seemed to have cracked the ice. Their mother looked visibly relieved that Kiira's parents were letting her back into her long-lost daughter's life, and their shared love for Kiira won over their initial fears.

Capheus, for the most part, sat back and listened, smiling appreciatively at the way mother hung on to every word. He had access to all of Kiira's memories, and they had spent the past month exchanging childhood stories, the good and the embarrassing (which Kiira made Capheus swear not to share). But telling his mother about the things he'd learned through his connection wasn't the same.

"I remember when Kiira was four," Mrs. Anderson, who insisted that Capheus called her Eleanor, told his mother as she helped herself to some sukumawiki. "She's always been such a curious child. Curious to a fault – oh my goodness, Vern," she called, tapping Mr. Anderson on the shoulder, "Vern, you've got to try this – oh Shiro, you must teach us the recipe –"

Kiira and Capheus exchanged a smirk there. He had seen her memories of her mom's attempts at cooking, most of which resulted in the endless blaring of the smoke detector as everyone tried to fan the smoke out of an open window.

Mr. Anderson — Vern — sampled some off his wife's plate. "Mm. Marvelous!"

"You're too kind, Eleanor." Capheus could tell his mom was blushing. "It's one of my favorites. One of Capheus' favorites, too."

"Yes, yes, and one of mine." Eleanor beamed. "Anyway, what was I saying –"

Vern laughed. "Are you telling the telephone story, dear?"

"Not the telephone story." Kiira planted her face in her hands.

"Oh, mom, you must," Liam egged her on. "Go on, tell them the story."

Kiira kicked Liam underneath the table. Capheus wondered if she would have been the same with him if they'd grown up together. He had a suspicion that, with their bigger age difference, the relationship would have turned out differently: more protective, less friendly rivalries. He pushed the thought away. Today, especially, he wanted to focus on what was, not what could have been.

"When Kiira was four years old," Eleanor started again, suppressing a chuckle as she dabbed at her mouth with her napkin. "We liked to read her all these storybooks. The classics. Dr. Seuss, Roald Dahl… anyway, it was right after she read Horton Hears a Who. I received a call from my colleague one night, and Kiira was downstairs, watching me, and she asked, 'Mommy, how do voices get through the telephone?'"

Liam jumped in. "Yes, how do voices get through the telephone, Kiira? Tell them your theory. What was your theory?"

"That there were little men trapped inside the wires playing messenger," Kiira mumbled, sinking into her seat as she glared. If looks could kill.

"Kiira wanted to see how telephones worked," Vern chipped in. "She wanted to see the machines behind the buttons. She wanted to see wires, and cogs and gears, you know. And - and she wanted to talk to the little men, to see what they looked like!"

"And, being such a good scientist," Liam added, "she decided the only way to collect evidence of the little men's existence was to tear the telephone apart."

Capheus let out a cackle. Kiira gave him a look of betrayal.

Eleanor laughed. "So I come home one night after I picked up Liam from school, and the telephone was in shambles. Absolutely ripped apart. Dear God, at least she was smart enough to pull the cord out from the plug before she disassembled the whole thing — it could've been disastrous, she could've ended up in the hospital. Right. I stepped around the room to go find Vern — mind you, there were wires everywhere, and – and these bits and pieces lying on the floor –"

"I was supposed to be watching her," Vern added, "but I dozed off at the kitchen table — I'd been marking papers all day — and the little bugger ran off and took apart the telephone. The entire thing!"

Their mother looked at Kiira, incredulous. "Really?"

"I was four!" Kiira explained, in a fruitless attempt to get everyone to stop laughing.

"And Kiira was crying — bawling, practically hysterical — because she couldn't fix the telephone back up," Eleanor continued. "She was convinced the little men had run off because she'd destroyed their home and couldn't piece it back together, and she said – she said she ought to be arrested."

"And Liam decided to jump in on the joke, didn't you?" Vern added. "Liam offered to call the police for her, but then he took a look at the telephone and went, 'Oh, but you broke the telephone. I suppose the police will have to come find us when the little men's family reported you on.'"

"Yes." Kiira lifted her head. It was clear that she'd been laughing, too, embarrassment aside. "That was quite despicable of you."

"Took us an hour to try and convince her this wasn't a serious felony," Liam quipped, patting Kiira on the shoulder. "But the telephone was broken."

"Oh, yes, completely broken," Eleanor agreed. "We had to get it replaced. And poor Kiira was inconsolable for the entire day! 'Oh, mommy, but what if there are no books in prison?'"

"Mo-om," Kiira whined. "Are you finished?"

Liam turned to face his parents. "Should we tell them the story about Santa –"

"No!" Kiira shouted, at the same time her parents exclaimed, "Yes!"

---

October, 2017

By the middle of October, the interior space of Lilac Inn had been painted various shades of light and dark purple, true to its name. The second-hand bookshop was already up and running, selling donated books to fund the Archipelago's many post-war humanitarian operations. Many of the donations so far were made by members of Nomi's Cluster, who had mailed boxes of old books in various languages across the world.

Hernando had been invited to San Francisco to help Nomi and Amanita pick out the rest of the furniture, an invitation he was glad to accept. Lito and Dani were preoccupied with shooting Iberian Dreams on most days — Dani had convinced Kit to give her a role, too. Whenever Hernando visited the set, he would see Dani engaging in conversations with not only her co-stars but Kit Wrangler himself. He had a growing suspicion that Dani wanted his job someday.

And if Lito's latest role was any indication, Dani tended to get what she wanted.

As for Hernando, talking to Blake about Chekov on set had been fun, but there was only so much literature they could discuss before Hernando wished he could engage in conversation like this with more than one other person. It would appear that living in a safe house with Lito's Cluster had spoiled him. Lito's Cluster-mates and extended family all made for good company. Nomi and Amanita, in particular, were keen to discuss books.

"You finished museum-hopping in LA already?" Amanita asked, assuming control of their Ikea shopping cart as they strolled along the bedroom section.

"Not all of them." Hernando chuckled. "I'm saving the other half for later."

Nomi was walking behind them, ticking things off a checklist. "Do we want three rooms with bunk beds, or just two?"

"Huh." Amanita stopped in front of a wooden bunk bed with blue bed sheets and pull-out steps instead of ladders. "I don't know. Do we want more guests at a time?"

"Or we can charge more if there are more private rooms," Nomi suggested. "Hernando?"

He paused to think. It was a good question, a question that could determine the influx of guests at any given day in their hostel. His own experiences of traveling between safe houses had given him a new perspective on sharing a living space, not to mention the sensate condition as a whole. Based on his observations, Cluster-mates tended to congregate subconsciously even in others' presence.

"It depends on what you prioritize." Hernando nudged up his glasses, walking over to examine the unusual bunk bed. "The bonding experience of meeting new people in close proximity versus the need for private intimacy. How many of your guests are in pairs?"

Nomi scrolled through a list stored on her phone. "I think half of them are Cluster-mates, meeting up, traveling together –"

"In pairs?" Hernando asked.

"Some are pairs. Some are groups of three."

Amanita chuckled. "Not eight?"

"Most Clusters aren't so big," Nomi told them. "The average number's around four."

Show off, Amanita mouthed dramatically, giving Hernando a wink. He chuckled as Nomi turned and threw her fiancée a teasing glare.

They browsed through all the bed options and moved on. When they stopped in front of the swatches of curtain patterns, Amanita beamed. "We can add dividing curtains!"

"It's certainly versatile." Hernando ran his hand through a polyester fabric with a bird design, drawn in a style that imitated children's drawings, with the colors all out of line. "The illusion of a divided space when necessary."

"You make every decision sound like a good decision," Nomi complained half-heartedly. But she looked thoughtfully at rack fixed to the ceiling, testing how the curtains parted.

He chuckled. "I am offering you the implications of every choice. The choices are neutral in themselves. It's a matter of perspective."

"What does your perspective think of pull-out beds?" Nomi asked. There was a catalog on the wall, and she took it out, flipping through the pages.

"Those that double as couches?" Amanita pointed to a beige one. "That one could work for our darker purple room."

Hernando examined it. "It's a flexible color to use. Is this for the private room?"

"Yeah. More sitting space during the day," Nomi pointed out.

As they strolled through Ikea, their discussion evolved from interior decorations and indoor plants to a debate about the merits of lamps versus overhead lights, until finally, they had ventured around the entire store twice, exhausting their energy and their budget. After waiting in an excruciatingly long checkout line and placing delivery orders for the larger pieces, the store closed, and Amanita drove them back to the inner city in their rental car.

It was a productive day, if not an unusual one, considering the last time Hernando furniture-shopped was not that long ago, and back then, there was a lot more aesthetic considerations and a lot less strategic planning. A hostel was more about the practicalities, creativity within boundaries. And a home… well, living with Lito and Dani had taught him that there was no such thing as "too much."

"I really should learn how to drive now," Nomi muttered, yawning as she leaned her head against the window.

"You should, Noms," Amanita agreed as they stopped at a red light. "I mean, you're not gonna be in a car chase any time soon, but just in case, right?"

"We're all accustomed to danger, aren't we?" Hernando pondered.

Amanita laughed. "Can you blame us?"

"Considering our biggest predicament two months ago? I believe not," Hernando quipped.

Nomi was silent for a few seconds before she reported, "Capheus just offered to teach me."

"I can teach you," Hernando volunteered.

"Don't you wanna get back to LA?" Nomi asked.

He shrugged. "I can stay a couple days. Capheus and I can switch back and forth. Hands-on instructors might give you a new perspective."

They were still contemplating the advantages of traditional learning over sensate-based knowledge acquisition by the time they reached Nomi and Amanita's apartment. Instead of helping Hernando look for a hotel, they had offered to lend their pullout couch to their "guest of honor" without much hassle. Judging by their too-many plates and the beanbag chairs strewn about the living room, their home was, truly, a home made in preparation of visitors. Managing a sensate-friendly hostel seemed right up the couple's alley.

The moment Hernando settled down at the dining table for some late night cereal, he fell into another round of small talk with them, this time discussing The Matrix. It felt like another guarding shift, just without the possibility of danger looming over their heads. Nomi even went so far as to joke they had absolutely no reason to stay up so late — they could all go to bed at once and not expect to be raided in the middle of the night. But no one did. They all relished in the comfort of staying up for the sake of staying up.

"How's the wedding planning going?" he asked.

"Pretty good. Our wedding planner's actually someone I know," Amanita told him. "Oliver Thomas. We were in kindergarten together."

She exchanged a smile with Nomi, sharing a wordless secret between them.

"What made you choose New Year's Eve?"

Nomi and Amanita looked at him with some trepidation, and he could guess they knew about his parents' death through Lito. It must have come up as part of the discussion. Maybe it was one of the reasons they invited Hernando here.

"It's not set in stone," Nomi started, "we can move it to early January -"

"It's okay," Hernando told them.

Amanita leaned closed across the table. "Are you sure?"

He nodded. "It's fitting, after all that's happened this year."

"Yeah? Why's that?" Nomi asked.

"My New Year's Eve tradition had been the same for years," he explained. "But now everything's changing because of this war. In your lives, in Lito's, in mine, too, by extension. Maybe the dates are meant to coincide. Now I have something else, something beautiful, to associate with New Year's Eve."

Amanita nodded. "Are you sure you're okay with that?"

"I am," he assured them. "I can't spend the rest of my life living in the past. I can't spend New Year's Eve entirely in mourning, every year. I would like to try and change things."

"The ceremony's gonna be at night," Nomi said. "And we can stay up 'till midnight."

"Sounds perfect," Hernando said. It would give him enough time to visit his parents' grave in the early morning with his family before coming over to California again. A tribute to the past, followed by a promise into the future.

"Okay, then, it's settled," Amanita declared.

"Congratulations," he said, raising his half-full cereal bowl. They laughed and played along, raising their own bowls.

"Cheers," Amanita said.

"What are we toasting it to?" Nomi asked.

"To new traditions," Hernando said, clinking their bowls as the clock struck twelve.

"To new traditions!"

---

On Felix's birthday, Dani was the first to call. She'd waited until it was midnight in Paris to FaceTime, and he'd picked up after a mere two seconds. It wasn't like he was looking at his phone waiting. But he'd been sitting in his bed in the hotel room, thinking about her kiss as he scrolled through the selfies they'd taken in London in the two weeks after he got out of the hospital. Her call was a pleasant surprise.

"Woah," she looked at him, all wide-eyed. "Miss me much?"

He looked longingly at her face over the screen. "Every moment of my life, Dani."

As expected, she rolled her eyes. "Happy birthday, silly."

"Thanks." He leaned against the headboard of his too-large bed, picking at the corner of his quilt with his free hand. "You're the first to call. You beat Wolfie."

"Should I hang up to give him a chance?" she offered.

"Nah. Let him wait for two hours."

"Why aren't you with him?"

Felix laughed. It would seem pretty reasonable to spend his birthday with his brother, sure, but he didn't really fancy third-wheeling. "We're gonna meet up at noon. Right now he's too preoccupied with someone else."

"Aww."

"I know." Finally, someone who could understand his woes. "They're insufferable. I don't know how Lito and the others put up with them."

He could tell Dani was thinking: she always twitched her nose a little whenever she did, and Felix found it adorable. "I think they're probably pro at it now. Screening out what you don't wanna see and all."

"Maybe." That was a fair point, but it wasn't like Felix could know for sure. He wasn't the fucking psychic here. "Hell, okay, I can't believe Wolfie kept a secret girlfriend from me at all. A girlfriend. For over a year!"

"I don't know, Wolfgang seems like a guy who can keep secrets."

"Wolfie tells me everything."

"Sure he does."

"Fine." He huffed. "I thought he did. He betrayed me."

She chuckled. "You got any other birthday plans?"

He didn't. But he didn't know where their conversation could go from there, and he really wanna keep Wolfie waiting for two hours to call him and say happy birthday for the hell of it. "Maybe I'll go to a pub."

"Two months and you've already found new drinking buddies?" Dani quirked an eyebrow.

But you're not here, Felix wanted to say. And the guys at the pub are lame. They can barely hold their liquor. I miss drinking with you.

"I'm practicing," he told her.

"For what?"

"For beating you at two truths and a lie the next time we meet up."

That made her snort. "You wish."

"You'll see."

"Alright, then." She didn't look entirely convinced. It only made Felix wanna prove her wrong. Call it a friendly competition, belated as it would have to be.

"I miss having you around," he blurted out. Fuck. Did he say that out loud?

"Miss you too," Dani said. She looked a little hesitant, like she wanted to say something else but decided not to. "You staying out of trouble?"

"Sure," he said with confidence.

But of course, Dani saw right through it. "Don't tell me you got into another fight."

"Well…"

"Ay." She sighed, shaking her head. "What was it this time?"

"Well, I wasn't in any life danger."

Dani didn't look amused, and Felix could guess why. You don't usually get into life-threatening dangers unless you were Wolfie. Felix only got the short end of the stick last time because of those fucking zombies. Which, in a way, was also related to Wolfie.

Why was it always him?

"It was a bar brawl," Felix explained. "People were pissed because their team lost. Took it out on Wolfie and me."

"Did they? Why? Were you trash-talking?"

"No!" he said immediately, in a tone that suggested yes.

"Unbelievable. I leave you alone for two months, and you've -" Dani tutted her tongue, trying to think of the right word - "relapsed."

"I told you I couldn't be trusted." He grinned that stupid grin which always got her off his case. It seemed to have worked — she looked like she was hiding a smile.

"You are such a child," she chastised half-heartedly. Then, in a lower voice, "So did you win?"

"Please. When have I ever lost?"

Dani rolled her eyes.

"Plus Wolfie was there to back me up."

"To back you up, huh?"

The truth was, Wolfie had been there to save his ass from getting beat by six dudes. He'd thrown a few punches, then pulled Felix out the door before the fuckers could retaliate. They weren't in a mood for a full-on brawl, not after the fucking fiasco that was their battle against BPO only a short while ago. But Dani didn't need to know that.

"Come to Paris," Felix pleaded. "Come keep an eye on me."

"I'd love to," Dani said, and Felix was pretty sure she meant it. She was looking longingly at his face through the screen — or maybe his brain was deceiving him. "But I can't. Kit's given me a role, too. I'm in the studio a lot these days. Poor Hernando's getting lonely."

"What's Hernando's cure for loneliness?" Felix asked. He could take note. Wandering around Paris, bar-hopping all over Europe, and trying to sell the old key shop back in Berlin was getting too old, too quickly.

"I think he's seen, like, all the museums in LA by now."

"Ahh. Maybe I'll try the Louvre."

"Hernando would be so jealous." She laughed.

"That's why I'm doing it."

"You're so mean."

"I know."

They paused there, wondering what they could say next. Maybe Felix could've called it a night. But he didn't really want to. Talking to Dani was an excellent start to his birthday.

"We, umm," Dani started, "we'll be done with shooting before Christmas."

Before Christmas, huh? "Is that an offer?"

"Maybe."

"I'll take that as a yes."

She winked. "We'll see."

As Felix finally fell asleep at two in the morning on his birthday, his last thought was that New Year's Eve couldn't come soon enough.

Okay. Fine. Four months apart from Dani had its perks, however little they may be. For one thing, Felix had enough time to learn how to dance. Proper dance, not the clubbing type of dance he used to do. He didn't feel like going to clubs these days anymore. Playing drinking games with random strangers had lost its appeal.

The hackers at Veracity must've been loaded. After they all parted ways in late August, everyone who had taken part in the battle was compensated big time, and no matter how many times they tried to give the money back, the Guys wouldn't have it. They insisted there were sponsors among the Archipelago who wanted to thank the August 8 Cluster and allies for their contribution.

So Felix got himself a salsa instructor, and new shoes, and a proper tuxedo to go with the new tie Leon had sent him as a birthday gift. He couldn't go back to wearing an oversized suit jacket again.

His instructor, Mariana, was the type of woman Felix used to long for.

She was always wearing some shade of red, and the color made her glow in a dangerously intoxicating way. There was no denying her allure. She was hot, smoldering hot, especially when they danced. And she was three years older than Felix, which generally would have made him want her even more.

Her crimson dress billowed in the air as they spun around the dance studio. Felix pulled Mariana towards him and watched her twirl. When her body was close enough for him to make out the small beauty spot beneath her collarbone, he did look, for a second — he wasn't blind.

"What's on your mind?" Mariana asked, a teasing smile on her face.

She quirked an eyebrow, daring Felix to make a witty remark, something that would get her to laugh and maybe even tease him back.

The old Felix would have jumped at the chance to flirt with Mariana. He would have claimed he was a genius at salsa; honestly, he was just out of practice. And Felix would try to bait her with his moves and get her to talk about herself as he gawked and pretended to listen. Now and then he'd throw in something completely made-up from his own life, like that time he and his friend Wolfie took down four bouncers and stole a motorcycle and rode to the fucking Berlin Wall with five police cars chasing them down, then managed to get away by stowing away underneath an Erdinger delivery truck.

But instead of wanting to say something funny the moment Mariana showed interest, Felix found himself wishing he was dancing with someone else.

"I'm preparing this dance for someone special," he said instead, meeting her eyes.

Dark brown eyes, accentuated by black eyeliner and a dash of gold. Brown like Dani's.

But not like Dani's, because if he'd seen Dani's eyes again, he didn't think he would have been able to look away. With Mariana, he could. He looked at his new golden shoes and admired the way the metallic leather caught the warm glow of the ceiling light.

Mariana stopped dancing. "She's a lucky woman."

"No." Felix let go of her and shook his head, loosening his tie. "I'm the lucky one."

---

A/N:

So. Major announcement for all the Veracity fans out there:

I am not ready to say goodbye to this little universe I've built around the Sense8 canon. Not even after the special comes out. This is what happens when you make too many OCs, I tell ya. Ya get attached.

Anyway, since I'm not ready to let go, and there's so much left that I can weave into stories, AND some of you have expressed the same sentiment (that you want MORE from me), I've decided to expand this work into its own little series.

I call it the Veracity 'Verse, and it will feature stories of my OCs (or the canon characters, so long as it's compliant with the details of this fic) before, during, and after Veracity's timeline.

I'm taking short prompts right now because I'm graduating in May so I don't have time to start on my other big WIPs yet. In case you were wondering what kind of prompts I meant, here are the ones on my list so far:

- A Leon x Genevieve fic, taking place 2 years after Veracity has ended.
- A Kiira-centric fic about her coming to terms with her unusual family, before and after meeting Capheus.
- A fic about Lito and María as children.
- A fic about Lito and María's life after Veracity's timeline, when they meet up again and hang out with Lito's kids (I actually have ideas about his crazy mess of a family).

So, yeah! Anything you'd like to see, you can drop me a comment here, or send me an ask on my tumblr blog, chaptersonetoinfinity. I can elaborate on my OCs' backstories, or "deleted scenes" in Veracity itself (e.g. Lito trying to explain his sensate situation to a very baffled Lito and Dani, Kalagang being soft and sappy and fluffy as Kala worked in the lab, etc.), or I can show you what some of the characters are up to as they pick up the pieces after the war :)

I will say, though, that I have limited knowledge about smut, so if you're looking for a smutty fix, I suggest you check out the works of many other fic writers in this fandom. I'll leave that to the experts, and stick to what I do best: angst and fluff, usually a combo of both XP

(And in case you were wondering, no, this is not an April Fool's prank. I mean it. Throw prompts at me. But I can't guarantee how fast they'll be filled, m'kay?)