On the way back from Nessus, Ambrose said, "Peach, set our course for Beijing in Old China."

Peach glanced at him from where she floated at the cockpit instrument panel. "Are we visiting Charon?"

Ambrose shrugged one shoulder. "I brought along extra supplies for her."

"I wondered about that cargo," Peach said. She emoted a smile. "I traveled with Charon for a long time, looking for you. She's very good to Ghosts." She hesitated, then said, "Why visit her now?"

Ambrose drummed his fingers on the flight yoke. "Muriel and the others saw a vision of me … and I must travel the Corridors of Time once more … Call it a premonition, Peach. This may be the last time I see Charon."

Peach spun her shell in an unsettled way, but said nothing until she had set the jumpship's new heading. Then she burst out, "Please don't talk that way, Ambrose! Of course we'll come back! You're tougher than any Vex!"

"Where did this come from?" Ambrose said quietly, touching his Dragon's Shadow armored vest.

Peach glanced at it. "Just because that Guardian died in there doesn't mean you will."

Ambrose didn't reply directly. Instead, he opened his mind to Peach over their neural link. She felt his uneasiness, the idea of his own time-image appearing to his fireteam mixed with the thought of the dead Guardian and the dead Saint-14, and of that Ghost in the goblin's claws. He had no assurance of traversing the Corridors of Time successfully. He would be seeking a point that not even Osiris could find. Mingled with this was resignation, a melancholic acceptance.

"No," Peach said fiercely, opening her shell in jolts with each syllable. "You. Will. Come. Back."

Ambrose didn't look at her. He focused on his ship's computer, instead.

Neither of them spoke as they dropped out of near-lightspeed and winged toward Earth's blue globe. Peach kept thinking of Geppetto and of all those Vex he had killed. She had an independent streak a mile wide, but having had a Guardian, she couldn't bear the thought of losing him and going back to a solitary life. Worse, she didn't think she was strong enough to fight Vex like that. She had always fled and hid from danger, never confronted it head on. Geppetto had been fierce-the Ghost of a Titan. He hadn't given up until the end.

The ship dropped toward the Asian continent and zeroed in on the ruins of Beijing. The area was riddled with sinkholes, and from high altitude it looked like asteroids had left craters across the landscape. Ambrose switched on the radio and said, "This is Guardian Ambrose seeking Guardian Charon. Do you copy?"

After a moment, a Ghost's voice replied, "Read you loud and clear. Transmitting coordinates. Welcome to Beijing and watch your step."

Ambrose landed in an old parking lot in the shadow of a factory, now half-collapsed from the ravages of the centuries and scavengers. As he climbed out of his cockpit, Charon stepped out of the ruins and sauntered toward him, one hand on her hip.

Charon had an Asian slant to her features, and her gleaming black hair was twisted up in a knot at the back of her head. She wore the tough pants and vest of a Hunter that hugged her figure and showed off her curves. Ambrose would never have guessed that she was actually a Titan by her gear. A Ghost floated at her shoulder in a black racing shell, quiet and watchful.

"Hello, Charon!" Ambrose said, shaking her hand. To his surprise she pulled him into a hug and pounded him on the back.

"Good to see you, Ambrose," she said, beaming. "What brings you out here?"

"Supplies," Ambrose said. He had Peach transmat a large box onto the concrete.

Charon opened it and looked through the contents approvingly. "All this food! All preserved for travel, too. Thanks very much! I've missed peanut butter." She lifted the box as if it weighed nothing. "My ship's out here. Walk with me?"

The two Guardians circled the factory and wound their way through the streets behind it, talking with the easy familiarity of good friends. Charon talked about the Ghosts she had met and the Guardians they had resurrected. "I hope to have found a whole fireteam by the end of the year. How about you? Having any adventures?"

Ambrose told her about Osiris and his mad quest to save Saint-14. "I'm not sure why I have to do this, other than I'm the one who located Saint's traces in the Infinite Forest."

Charon scrutinized his face, her dark eyes missing nothing. "You're going back, aren't you?"

He told her about finding Saint-14's Ghost and how difficult it might be to find a passage through the Corridors of Time. He fell silent at that point as words failed him.

They reached Charon's ship and she transmatted the supplies aboard. Then she and Ambrose sat on a low concrete wall and gazed out across the ruined city.

"You came to say goodbye," Charon said softly, without looking at him.

Ambrose nodded. "If something goes wrong … I wanted to have seen you one last time. To say thank you. For guarding Peach, and for enabling her to resurrect me. It's been a good life, being a Guardian."

"You sound like you're sure you'll never come back," said Charon, meeting his gaze. "Nothing is certain."

"Better to assume the worst," Ambrose replied. "If I survive this, it will be a pleasant surprise."

They sat there in silence, watching the sun swing westward, casting long shadows behind the tallest buildings.

"If you can save Saint-14," Charon said, "that will be a huge morale boost after losing Cayde-6."

Ambrose nodded. He had resurrected after the Hunter Vanguard's death, and had scrambled through his training any way he could. He'd felt the gloom and grief that still haunted the Vanguard.

"I suppose I'll be doing everyone a favor," he said. "Assuming I survive the attempt." He rested his hand on Charon's small, strong one. "I wanted you to know how much I care for you, while I still have a chance."

She looked at their hands, then up at his face. Her eyes were suddenly moist. "Why did you wait until the last minute, then?"

"I …" Ambrose stammered, suddenly aware that he had stepped into deep water. "I suppose … impending death rearranges priorities. I didn't want to face it with this undone, if that makes sense."

Charon suddenly gripped his hand so hard that his bones creaked. "You'd better come back, you hear me?" A flicker of Light sparked in her eyes.

Ambrose took in her expression and realized what it meant. "Do you mean to say … you care for me, as well?"

"Yes, you idiot," Charon said. "Don't think I haven't noticed how you're always the one bringing me supplies and staying in touch. Muriel mentioned yesterday how you ask her all the time for news of me. I'm not good at relationships, all right? My last few didn't end well. I've tried not to … encourage you. But dammit, Ambrose." She turned away and wiped her eyes. "If you go out there and die, I'm going to be so angry."

Ambrose grinned because he'd lost control of his face. He wanted to leap to his feet and dance like a fiend, to yell and shout and sing. Instead, he sat there beside the girl he loved and grinned and felt like an idiot as she cried. He gingerly put an arm around her shoulders. "I had assumed that all affection was on my side of the equation. You have an effective poker face."

"Yes, well," Charon said, putting an arm around him, too. "The last poor sap who fell for me spent six months in a cage."

On her other side, her Ghost said, "Hey now, it wasn't like that."

"Wasn't it?" Charon said, glancing at him. "I'm not a good person to be in a relationship with. Too much Titan."

"I haven't a clue what you mean," said Ambrose, rubbing her shoulder. "You are exceedingly kind to these Ghosts. I've seen you care for them and protect them. Isn't the measure of a person's character how they treat those weaker than themselves?"

"Shh," Charon whispered. "You're going away, and this is making it worse."

"All right, then," Ambrose whispered, brushing her cheek with his lips. "If I do make it back, I'm coming for you."

"You'd better," Charon murmured.