It was what had kept her going up until this moment. SRIV.

Something short based off of the prompt - Breathe Again for Johnny and V. This is a scene that I've wanted to tackle for forever now.


There had been a time back when they first landed in Steelport, back when V had forced herself to get into that car with Shaundi, and drive so she wouldn't be able to stop and think, let alone think about the plane that was crashing towards the water, that she'd told herself it wasn't true.

Until there had been a body, or some trace of evidence, she wouldn't believe it. That Johnny was dead, and the last chance she'd had to see him or talk to him had passed, and she'd never have a chance to do it again. That when she woke up the next morning she wouldn't run into him outside of his room, or hear him grumble at her as she darted inside to steal an extra towel from his bathroom before running back to hers.

That she wouldn't wake up in his bed again, an accident that kept on growing more and more common, to see him resting next to her. Still asleep as his chest rose, and he'd mumble something under his breath too low for her to hear. Or he'd be moving around, watching her as she straightened her shirt and bid a hasty exit, because it'd felt comfortable. Too comfortable, and too close to those nights where Troy's arms would slide around her while he'd whisper to her, his words as gentle as his touch.

But time passed. The Saints grew, and she started to believe it. Maybe. That one word made her hair stand on end as she charged into the Morningstar's headquarters and blew it sky high.

Because even after that, what they had was nothing. No trace, not a single sign of Johnny, and in that moment with the reflection of the fires growing dimmer in their rearview mirror, V let herself believe it, and nearly crumpled at the wheel.

That last shred of hope seemed so foolish after everything that had passed, but she'd held onto it tightly then, and it was that which kept her running now. That kept her moving to the location Kinzie had broadcasted to the power armor, holding her as she saw Johnny's mark everywhere.

Because this time it wasn't some idle hope. Something that she'd dreamed of, and held on to. She'd heard his voice, fought right next to him, and she didn't have to lie to herself, not anymore.

The doors in front of her erupted when the missile slammed into them, and she didn't wait for the heat and smoke to dissipate before shoving the fragments out of the way. The metal groaned as the robotic arms warped it, and a line of warnings flashed as the armor punched the rest of the way through.

Once she was clear, she scanned the hallway and flooded it with fire, removing the last three Zin before grabbing at her harness and the controls. The cockpit flew open and V jumped, sprinting as soon as she hit the floor.

She ran. She ran as fast as she could with a rifle in her hands and her blood pumping in her ears towards that room. The only room at the end of the corridor, and she was so close now. So close to an answer.

Her feet almost slipped on the slick floor by the malfunctioning door, and she saw the bodies. Under the light she could see the room had them littered left and right, and she pushed through. Stepped over the singed Zin and her rifle hit the floor. She couldn't hold it. Couldn't keep a proper grip on it as her voice stopped working.

Johnny was all calm motion. Casual, not in any hurry, or concerned about the alarms blaring through the halls, and she watched him. Didn't even bother to blink as he plucked his sunglasses off of the head of the struggling Zin he'd pinned to the floor, and she couldn't breathe. Couldn't get anything past her lips as her mouth went dry, and when he saw her, that's when she started to believe it.

Saw that slow curve of his smile – it'd become harder and harder to recall over the years, but the warmth that came with it hadn't dulled one bit – and felt her legs carry her right up to him.

And they'd done their old greeting at first, clasping each others' hands in their own, tightly. Johnny put a hand on her back to draw her close, and V held onto him, grabbed his arm to steady herself and felt her voice crack.

"You're real. You're fucking real," she murmured, as she reached up to touch the side of his face, and his smile slipped shortly before he crushed her against him.

Her arms slid up and around his neck, the shit from the tank getting everywhere as he buried his face in her hair, and she pressed her cheek to his pulse, but she didn't care. She held on, felt her body shake as she squeezed her eyes closed, and heard him repeat her name, over and over with each harsh breath.

And if her grip went tight enough to bruise he didn't say. Only kept her close as she choked down air and refused to let go.