Harley was lying in his cell, trying his best to sleep. He hadn't slept well even before being arrested and now it was nearly impossible. Most nights, he just stared at the ceiling, thinking.

That night, he was thinking about faith. He knew that Guardians could become so attuned to the Light that they could go without food and sleep, letting the Light sustain them entirely. Harley could scarcely comprehend having such a level of trust for something like that to be possible. To place so much faith in the Traveler - so much devotion; could he ever do it himself?

The Traveler had spoken to him once.

During the Guardians' invasion of the City during the Red War, Harley had crashed The Immortal - Dominus Ghaul's ship - in the City's outskirts. It had cost him his life. Even when the Traveler broke free of its cage, Prism had been unable to bring Harley back.

While he was dead, he had met the Traveler in a garden. It had used the appearance of a woman to advise him. One of the things they'd talked about was Harley's failure to follow a vision the Traveler had sent during the Red Legion's takeover. Harley knew other Guardians had also received the vision, yet of those who'd tried, none had gotten their Light back. So what difference would it have made if Harley had gone?

He returned to the question often in the time since the Red War and was still no closer to an answer. He always told himself that following the Traveler's vision would have changed nothing; the Light would have stayed locked away and the resistance would have played out exactly the same. But deep inside himself, Harley had harbored the fear that maybe he was wrong. Maybe if he'd gone to the Shard, the Light would have come back to him. Maybe fewer lives would have been lost.

It was a thought that would never stop plaguing him, especially since the Traveler had spoken to him itself. Nearly every Guardian would kill for a vision from the Traveler; many of them had.

Yet out of all the Guardians touched by its Light, out of people like Ikora, Zavala, and all the Guardians who had been around long before Harley's time, the Traveler had decided to speak to him. The Hunter that had lost faith when the City and the Traveler needed him the most.

Since then, Harley had waited in vain for the Traveler to talk to him again. From long meditation sessions in the Infinite Forest to sleepless nights in the Reef. Yet the Traveler had remained silent, either unable or unwilling to provide Harley with the guidance he so desperately wanted.

Something squeaked.

Instantly, Harley was alert. He hadn't had many visitors while in Praxic custody; but whenever the door to his cell was used, it would squeal loudly. As it had just done.

Harley sat up, squinting into the darkness. He could just barely make out a large silhouette in the doorway. Part of him wanted to call out in case it was a Praxic Warlock but his instincts warned him not to speak. Harley had always trusted his instincts to keep him alive when he was out in the wilds. And right at that moment, they were screaming "danger." Whoever had entered his cell was there for a nefarious purpose.

Silently, Harley set his feet on the floor. There was a light switch in his cell. It wasn't particularly bright, but he figured turning it on would disorient whoever had come in. Maybe enough for him to get the advantage. Moving slowly, he rose to his feet and felt along the back wall.

Mentally preparing himself for the flood of light, he pressed the switch.

For a moment, his eyes were dazzled by the light filling the cell. He blinked them rapidly to clear his vision. The man was tall and broad-shouldered, packed with muscle. A knife was slotted through his belt, its blade sharpened to a wicked point. Harley instantly knew that any advantage gained from attacking first was soon to be lost. As a Guardian, he was stronger and faster than non-Lightbearers, but that wouldn't make up the difference here. Still, he had no choice.

Hoping to preserve his dwindling element of surprise, he launched himself at the other man, landing a succession of quick blows to his midsection. The man doubled over. Grabbing him around the head, Harley bashed his knee into the man's nose. His opponent bellowed in pain, lurching upright to retaliate.

The Hunter was able to dodge the first few blows but then one of the man's fists caught him on the chin, causing his head to snap back.

Harley staggered backward. His assailant delivered a devastating follow-up, hitting the Hunter in the side. Harley wheezed as pain blossomed from the impact point, but kept his arms raised in a guard.

The man came at him again. Harley blocked his punches and kicked him square in the chest, buying himself some breathing room. But it wasn't long before the man came after him once more.

Harley ducked under his guard, driving an elbow into his stomach. Reflexively, his attacker clutched at his midsection and Harley seized the opening, catching him in the face with a roundhouse kick.

Maybe he'd make it out after all.

He repositioned for another kick but just as his leg snapped forward, the other man caught it and shoved him backward.

Harley hit the ground forcefully with a groan. As he tried to get his bearings, his assailant delivered a harsh series of kicks to the Hunter's abdomen.

Harley curled inward, trying to get his breath back. His eyes were watering. He was dimly aware of the attacker moving away and wondered why the man hadn't used the knife he'd brought.

A scream pierced the air, ringing out as much inside his head as out loud.

Harley's eyes flew open. "Prism!"

He saw the assailant moving toward the bench where Prism still lay, bound by the Praxic restraining band. The man pulled out the knife and raised his arm, preparing to stab the Ghost.

Harley scrambled to his feet and lunged, hand outstretched to intercept the blade. Instead of hitting Prism, the knife pierced through the Hunter's hand, burying itself hilt-deep. Putting all of his remaining strength into the motion, Harley shoved against the attacker's grip, stopping the blade from reaching his Ghost.

Instinctively, he reached for the Light, only to find nothing there. The Praxic cuffs were blocking his connection. Using his other hand, he grabbed Prism and held her to his chest. The rest of his strength failed and the knife plunged into the bench where his Ghost had been a second before.

Harley knew there was nothing he could do to stop the assailant. He had no Light, no weapon, and no Ghost-assisted healing. The man could simply crush Prism and then do the same to Harley. The Hunter curled around his Ghost as best as he could with his hand pinned, trying to shield her for as long as he could.

There was a zapping noise, followed by a loud thud. Harley looked up. The assailant was now sprawled on the floor of the cell, out cold. Standing in the spot the man had occupied were two much friendlier figures.

Rogue winked at him. "Someone call for a rescue party?"

"I'm just glad we weren't too late," said Tristan.

Harley felt like he could cry. "I've never been more happy to see two people in my life," he told them.

"Not even when Jade and Fyr saved you from the Vault of Glass?" asked Prism, her voice slightly muffled.

Harley found himself cracking a smile. "No, but that's a close second."

"Glad we could help," said Rogue, "Damn, they almost had ya, Ace."

"Don't I know it," said Harley dryly, "Who was that guy?"

Rogue and Tristan exchanged a look. "We're not sure," Tristan admitted, "All we know is that he and another man were sent to kill you."

"His name's Doug," added Rogue helpfully.

Harley frowned at his attacker's - Doug's - form. "Well, I guess you'd better let the Praxic Order know. They might be able to launch an investigation into it."

The other two Guardians exchanged another look.

"The organization that sent the assassins has people inside the Order," said Tristan, "One that we know of, but there could be more."

"Ah… So what are we going to do?"

"We're gonna break you outta jail, Ace!" said Rogue brightly.

"...I don't mean to criticize my rescuers," hedged Harley, "But that seems like a terrible idea."

"Maybe, but it's the only way. These guys want you dead, kid. You can handle gettin' on the Praxic Order's naughty list."

Harley relented. "You make a good point."

"It's settled then," said the Titan, "Let's get the hell out of this joint."

"It might be a good idea to take care of that first," said Tristan, pointing.

Harley followed the Warlock's gesture to the knife embedded in his hand. "Oh."

Now that his attention was brought to it, he noticed a building heat around the wound. The adrenaline must be leaving his system.

Tristan's hands moved toward the knife before pulling back slightly. "May I?"

Harley nodded, gritting his teeth against the pain. He felt a slight tremor go through the blade as the Warlock grasped it, before pulling it out in one swift action. Harley couldn't stifle the gasp that escaped him. He held the hand in front of his face, examining the wound. It was bleeding, but not excessively. The knife must have missed the arteries.

"Right," said Rogue. He glanced over his shoulder. "We should probably bounce before the Praxics come sniffin' around."

"Or the other assassin," said Tristan gravely. His eyes studied Harley. "Can you walk?"

The Hunter considered it for a moment. "I think so."

"I'd rather he didn't," Prism interjected, "He has some broken ribs. I don't want one of them to shift and pierce a lung."

"Fair enough," said Rogue.

Kneeling down, the Exo slid one arm around Harley's back and the other under his knees, lifting him up in one smooth motion. Harley couldn't even find the energy to protest.

Rogue shot a glance at Tristan. "Let's go."

The Warlock nodded, leading the way out of the cell. As they passed through the lobby area of the Praxic headquarters, Harley noticed how dark and empty it was.

"How late is it?" he asked.

Tristan glanced at his interface. "Seven minutes to midnight," he replied.

Harley found himself surprised by the answer. Somehow, he had thought it was later. He remained silent as Rogue carried him through the sublevels of the Tower.

Eventually, he noticed that they were heading away from the Chasers' quarters.

"Where are we going?" he asked.

They rounded a corner. "Here," said Tristan.

Ahead of them were the silver doors of the Tower's elevators. Moving forward, Tristan pressed one of the buttons and the group waited for the car to arrive.

Harley felt kind of stupid sitting there in Rogue's arms. He hated being treated like glass.

The doors opened with a soft ding and the Guardians stepped inside. Tristan pressed the button for the ground level. The door closed and the car began to move.

"Why are we going into the City?" asked Harley.

"You've gotta ask?" said Rogue. Harley felt the Exo's chest vibrate as he chuckled. "It ain't safe for you in the Tower, Ace. Not with those assassins looking for ya."

"Yes," agreed Tristan, "The Praxic Order will also search for you, in all likelihood. Unfortunately, there is no way to tell who among them is trustworthy. So it's best for you to remain hidden. Speaking of which…" Tristan held up the end of Cayde's cloak. "It would be beneficial for you to change cloaks. Cayde's cloak is one of a kind, and highly recognizable."

Harley bristled. He had refused to wear any other cloak since taking up Cayde's. There was no way he was taking it off now. Tristan seemed to read the disagreement in his eyes.

The Warlock sighed. "I know that this is not easy, Harley. But it must be done to ensure your safety."

Prism piped up from where she was clutched against Harley's abdomen. "I agree with Tristan. As much as I wish there was another way, neither of us has the Light right now. Secrecy has never been more necessary."

Harley sighed. He could see their point.

"Besides," Rogue rumbled, "If you don't take it off, then I'll do it for you."

The prospect was not one Harley enjoyed considering, especially with fractured ribs. "Alright, fine," he conceded, "I'll do it."

Tristan looked relieved. "Thank you… Rogue?"

The Titan lowered Harley so he could stand upright. Harley winced as the movement aggravated his ribs. Meanwhile, Tristan had produced another cloak from somewhere and was holding it up for him to see.

The cloak was light teal, with slightly darker shades marking patterns across it. The back was decorated with strange silver symbols and the end split into two pieces - as if a shape had been cut out of the middle.

"Where'd you get that?" he asked.

"It's from Liv," said Tristan, "She sent it from the Dreaming City. I didn't think she would mind if you borrowed it."

Harley ran his uninjured hand over the cloth. "I've never seen anything like it. What's the Dreaming City?"

"It is...a long story," Tristan said, sounding slightly apologetic, "I'm sure Liv will want to tell you herself upon her return."

Harley accepted the answer. After a moment of hesitation, he passed Prism over to Rogue.

Guardians rarely let other people handle their Ghosts. The nature of the bond that developed between them over time ensured that Ghosts were deeply intertwined with their Guardians. There were a host of rules regarding the handling of Ghosts. Restrictions differed according to the circumstances and whether the Ghost in question was bonded to a Guardian.

Letting another person handle your Ghost was a sign of incredibly deep trust. It was something Harley had never fully understood until Kyler had come along. Seeing Prism in his grasp with a gun pointed at her had hammered home why there were so many rules about Ghosts. It was difficult for him to see Rogue holding her, and Rogue was a fellow Chaser - his friend.

Moving as quickly as he could without inviting too much pain, Harley removed Cayde's cloak and exchanged it for the teal one Tristan had brought. He pulled up the hood, discovering that it was very deep.

"How do I look?"

Tristan looked him over. "Acceptable."

Rogue barked out a laugh. "Shit, Tristan, you could do better than that!" He gave Harley a once over. "You look great, Ace."

"Aside from the blood," said Tristan dryly, gesturing to Harley's hand. The Warlock now had Cayde's cloak folded over his arm. "Don't worry," he assured him, "Trillian and I will look after it."

Harley was about to ask who Trillian was when a Ghost appeared in a flash of sky blue, stored the cloak, and then vanished just as fast.

Rogue held Prism out. Harley had to stop himself from snatching her back, but from Rogue's quiet chuckle, he hadn't entirely succeeded. He held his Ghost up, looking into her eye.

"Now I know how you felt when those other Ghosts wouldn't leave me alone," he joked.

Back before the Red War, Harley and Sebastian Gale had hunted down Zarok Halaax, a Taken zealot who'd been trying to corrupt Ghosts. After freeing the Ghosts Halaax had captured, they had become attached to Harley; following him around and sleeping near him until Prism had told them off.

Evidently, she still wasn't over it, because her eye narrowed. "Those Ghosts should've known better!" she griped, "Following a bonded Guardian around like that."

Harley chuckled. "Aw, give them a break, Prism. Halaax just shook them up, that's all."

"Maybe. But I know they've been visiting you. Don't pretend otherwise!"

She was right. Every now and again, one of them would drop by when Harley was in the Tower, usually just to say hi.

"They don't mean anything by it," said Harley, "Besides, you know you're the only Ghost for me."

Prism made a "hmph" noise but seemed mollified.

Then the elevator dinged again as the car came to a gentle stop. The doors opened, revealing the City skyline glowing against the surrounding darkness. Harley fought back a shiver as the brisk wind found its way into the elevator. Unlike the other two Guardians, he didn't have armor or an undersuit to stave off the chill.

"Right," said Rogue, "Know any places we can hole up in, Ace?"

"What?" said Harley, "You were the ones with the escape plan. Why are you asking me?"

"You're the Hunter," the Exo pointed out, "Hunters are supposed to be good at knowing places to hide."

Harley opened his mouth to retort, but then a thought occurred to him. "As it happens…" he said grudgingly, "I think I might actually know a place."

"You see? What'd I tell ya?" Rogue sounded triumphant. "Now we just need a way to get there. I don't think a Sparrow's gonna cut it."

"We'll have to walk into the outer districts," said Tristan, "Taxis only drive out this far when they've been ordered, and I would rather not let anyone know where we're going." He looked at Harley. "Are you ready?" Harley nodded. "Very well," said the Warlock, "Rogue, if you wouldn't mind…"

Harley knew what was coming and he made his protests known. "Guys, that's really not necessary. Look! I'm standing up right now! I can walk just fine."

An arm curling around his back was the only warning he had before his feet were no longer touching the floor. "Sorry, kid, but I ain't letting you be the judge on that one," said Rogue, not sounding sorry at all.

With that, they stepped out into the cold night air. Harley looked back, peering around the Exo's shoulder as the Tower grew steadily further away.

Next to them, Tristan's head was tilted back to look at something - either the stars or the Traveler, Harley wasn't sure. He could just make out the faint puff of mist that accompanied the Warlock's exhales.

It occurred to Harley then that he wasn't sure what time of year it was. When he'd left after the Red War, he thought it had been late winter or early spring. But he had traveled around a lot since then. The climates of different planets and moons made seasons tricky to discern. His time in the Infinite Forest and the Reef had not helped matters. Then again, nights in the City were generally cold no matter the time of year.

Suddenly, he was a little grateful that he didn't have to walk. Rogue's internal systems were whirring away, radiating warmth. The Titan practically doubled as a space heater.

After a few more minutes of walking, Rogue broke the silence. "You know what the best part of being a Titan is?" he asked. Harley and Tristan both shot him quizzical looks. "It's bein' able to hold your friends!" He grinned. "I'd like to see either of you try to carry another Guardian as easy as I can."

"I could do it," said Harley.

Rogue laughed. "Liv doesn't count."

Harley rolled his eyes. "Whatever you say, Mr. Titan."

"Kid, I don't think you know how light you Hunters are. You weigh nothing to me... Back me up here, Brainiac."

"I would prefer not to be involved," said Tristan.

"Point is, Ace, I'm a Guardian. A Titan. An Exo Titan. I could toss you in the air right now and it wouldn't be even a little bit difficult. Watch."

Harley felt Rogue's muscles tense.

Tristan whirled, grabbing the Exo's arm. "Perhaps you should refrain from further demonstrations of strength until Harley's ribs are no longer injured."

Rogue tilted his head. "Good point."

Tristan let go, visibly relaxing. As they continued to walk towards the City, Harley decided he took back any gratitude he'd felt toward Rogue. The teasing really was not necessary.

He was relieved when they reached the outer districts and managed to flag down an autonomous taxi. Rogue helped him into the backseat. He also tried to help with the seatbelt but Harley swatted his hands away.

"I don't need that!"

The Exo looked unimpressed. "Kid, I dunno if you noticed, but you and Prism are down for the count Light-wise. If something happens, you'd be a goner."

Harley glared at him but fastened the seatbelt. Rogue moved to sit next to Tristan in the front seat.

The Warlock looked back. "What is the address?"

Harley sighed but told him. He needed some help from Prism, as he hadn't actually been to the house itself. He hoped it hadn't been one of the ones destroyed in the Red War. And hopefully, no one else had moved in.

As the taxi started to move, he let his head rest against the window. His hand was throbbing. He had suffered much worse injuries, but the pain never got easier to deal with. He suspected he'd have to be a Guardian for much longer before that became the case.

The rumbling of the car's tires over the road was oddly soothing. Harley's eyes kept closing, but he wouldn't let them stay that way. Every time it happened, he forced them open again. Nothing good ever happened when he closed his eyes.

It felt like they'd been traveling for only a few minutes when the car slowed to a stop. Harley looked out the window as Tristan and Rogue got out. If his bearings were right, they were still a block or so away from where they needed to be.

He frowned in confusion when Rogue opened his door. "What are we doing here?"

"I didn't want to take the chance that someone could have tracked the taxi," said Tristan, "We will walk from here."

Harley knew that "walk" for him meant "be carried by Rogue." He swung his feet out of the cab and stood up to make it a bit easier on the Exo, ignoring how his ribs twinged in the process. After they'd sent the taxi on its way, they set off on foot.

Harley felt trepidation build in his chest as they neared the house. The windows were dark, the yard overgrown with weeds. He knew that somewhere in the field behind the house, that old oak tree would still be standing.

"Think anyone's home?" asked Rogue.

"Not sure," said Harley.

Tristan strode ahead, moving up the walkway to knock on the front door. After a long pause, he knocked again. There was no response.

"I think it's safe to say that no one currently lives here," he said.

Harley watched as the Warlock tried the handle and found it unlocked. Tristan pushed the door open and stepped inside. Rogue followed a few steps behind.

"Aww look Ace, it's like we just got married," the Exo teased, "...People still do the threshold thing, right?"

Harley didn't even react to the joke, preoccupied with the house they had just entered. It felt like an empty shell. A mausoleum of dust and preserved memories. But none of them belonged to him. He felt like he was trespassing on hallowed ground, somehow. As though his very presence was an intrusion and an affront to the house's history.

"Somethin' wrong, kid?" asked Rogue.

Harley shook his head. "It's fine."

"I hope so," said the Titan, "You'd better get cozy here, Ace, 'cause this is your new home until all the Praxic shit gets sorted."

A/N: Sorry, this was a bit later than usual because I lost track of time. Hope you enjoyed!