Harley felt bad about taking off on the two older Hunters. He felt even worse about stealing Kaedro's ship, and he knew Prism certainly hadn't been on board with either one. She floated in stony silence, staring at him accusingly.

He'd tried to explain to her that if he'd stayed at Felwinter Peak, it would've been only a matter of time before the people chasing him showed up. If that happened, Kaedro, Shiro, and all of the Peak's occupants would have been in danger. The Praxic Order was on the side of the law as far as Guardians were concerned, but they had never been the only ones after him.

Even if no one had been able to track him to the Peak, Lord Saladin would have eventually found out he was there and there would've been nothing preventing him from calling the Vanguard or Praxic Order down on Harley's head. So as far as Harley was concerned, he'd saved everyone else the trouble by leaving himself and hiding elsewhere in Sol.

But as hiding places went, none of the nearby options sat well with him. He didn't know many of the planets and moons well enough. He could have returned to the Infinite Forest but after the colossal mess he'd gotten himself into, he was pretty sure Osiris wouldn't be too happy to have him back.

So he was going off the grid: a place with no Vanguard patrols, outside of the City's jurisdiction. A place that Harley had never wanted to see again.

"They're not going to just sit back and let you fly off on your own, you know," said Prism, "They're going to come after you."

"Them and what ship?" Harley tried for bravado but there was no substance behind the words.

"I'm sure Shiro has one."

Harley was sure too. Jumpships were a standard part of a Guardian's arsenal. It's a good thing he was already being pursued. It made him careful.

"They won't know where I went," he told his Ghost, "I scrambled the ship's ID. We were in warp before they ever could've known we were gone. And Kay would never expect me to go back to the Reef... Trust me, they won't be able to find us."

"And that's a good thing I suppose?" she snarked, "What's to stop me from sending a beacon?"

"Nothing, aside from the fact that if you do, you'll be letting the Praxic Order and any number of hired assassins know where we are as well. Trust me, this is the best outcome… For them and for me."

Prism's silence spoke volumes. Harley never liked fighting with his Ghost but there was no way he'd back down now. He didn't want his friends helping him if it meant he was making them into targets for anyone on his trail.

After a long moment of silence, his Ghost spoke up again, sarcasm lacing her tone.

"You've really done it now, Harley. You managed to successfully ditch anyone that could have possibly helped you at a time when half of the City is looking for you."

Harley refused to rise to her comments.

"Now you're flying off alone into a place where you almost lost yourself - where you almost lost your life. You have no Light, no backup, and you're about to enter one of the most hostile edges of the system with no one knowing you're there. It looks like you finally got what you wanted... I hope you're happy."

Still, the Hunter held his silence. She kept going.

"Do you really blame yourself so much for what happened to Cayde that you want to die like him too?"

The words wrenched a choked gasp from Harley's throat. A sudden searing pain tore through his sternum and his hands fell away from the ship's controls as her comment played over and over in his head like a demented recording.

He felt as though a giant hand was squeezing his lungs, compressing the air out of him. He was dimly aware of his Ghost speaking once more. Her tone was softer but his mind, still reeling, refused to process anything else she said.

Harley didn't speak to Prism for the rest of the flight.

Truth be told, he wasn't sure what he'd even say to her. He and his Ghost had gotten into arguments before but there was something different about it this time. Before, it had always felt like they were still on the same team; still working towards the same goal even if their methods and opinions were at odds. This time, it was like they were on two different sides.

He never thought Prism would make a comment like that about Cayde. The wound was still so fresh. He must have underestimated how mad she'd be because his Ghost had never said anything like that before and he knew she'd been just as upset at Cayde's death as he was.

As he piloted the ship, his body and mind became disconnected. Flying was usually when he was the most present, but this time he was just going through the motions. His hands operated independently of his thoughts.

While he didn't speak to his Ghost, he noticed that she hadn't spoken again either. Harley had no idea what kind of impact that moment might have had on their relationship and it wasn't something he particularly wanted to attempt to figure out right then.

He tried turning inward but the only thing he felt was a bone-deep weariness. And if that didn't just sum up the direction his life had taken. Always a new problem to solve, a new foe to fight.

He was so tired. He wanted it all to just stop.

He wished he could say he was relieved when they dropped out of warp, but all he felt was dread. Staring at the lashed-together collection of asteroids ever-shrouded in an eerie purple haze was like staring into the yawning depths of his own grave. The Reef, he decided, is where Guardians go to die.

Cayde had died there. Sundance had died there. He himself had almost died there at the hand of the Rifleman. Fortunately, this time he would have a better idea of which places to avoid.

As he skimmed above the asteroids, he consciously kept the ship away from the populated areas - or at least as populated as places on the Shore could be.

Finally, he set down in the shadow of a rocky outcropping on an otherwise barren stretch of land.

Nothing stirred on the empty stretch of rock. Even so, Harley carefully surveyed the landscape before opening the ship's cockpit, listening to the rush of air escaping as it eased upward.

He hadn't forgotten about the thinness of the air in the Reef. The Awoken seemed accustomed to it, but Harley had always experienced an initial feeling of suffocation. It was not dissimilar to his experience on Felwinter Peak, though distinctly more pronounced.

After taking a few moments to breathe, Harley pulled himself out of the cockpit and slid down the ship's hull until his boots met the ground with a dull thump, raising small clouds of dust that were quickly stripped away by the wind.

There always seemed to be wind on the Shore. Occasionally it could grow to be devastatingly strong, but most of the time it was nothing more than a background current, a constant presence that whistled through the hollows in the rocks, pouring across the asteroid plains like a vast river.

Harley pulled his hood up and walked away from the ship, leaving Prism to lock it down. Despite previously noting the absence of other lifeforms, Harley's hand was never far from his holster. He had learned on his first trip to the Shore not to underestimate it. He'd never before seen an environment that evoked such bleak ferocity.

After several minutes of walking with nothing but the mournful drone of the wind to keep him company, Prism's voice echoed loud in his mind.

"So this is your plan, is it? Just keep walking forever? Or do you have a destination in mind?"

She still didn't sound happy with him. That was fine. He wasn't happy with her either. And he had no intention of answering.

Still, her questions prompted him to consider his options. There were few civilized places in the Tangled Shore. And those that existed, well… They had taught him the meaning of "uncivilized civilization."

The Shore looked out for no one. There were no outposts here, Guardian or Awoken. Fallen and Scorn comprised most of the population.

Harley knew he couldn't go to the Spider. He had dealings with the Underlord and the Hunter could never be sure of where he stood with the Fallen mob boss. The Spider was first and foremost interested in his own profit and a lot of people were looking for Harley.

His second thought was to find Yyrhicks, the other Fallen Shore-dweller that had helped him last time. But he had no idea where he was in relation to the place where he'd met Yyrhicks or if the Fallen was still using that place.

Harley tried not to let Prism notice his frustration. He didn't want this. He didn't want to be back on the Shore, he didn't want the Praxic Order hunting him down, bringing trouble to his friends.

He didn't want to be in a fight with his Ghost either, but whenever he thought about her, her words echoed back at him. Do you really blame yourself so much for what happened to Cayde that you want to die like him too?

Harley wanted to scream at her that maybe he did. Maybe that's what he deserved. Maybe that was the big reason. Why this all was happening to him. Why he'd returned to the Tangled Shore - the place where Cayde had died - of all places in Sol.

But he voiced none of that, knowing how his Ghost would respond. Instead, he kept walking. No goal, no destination. Just the wind in his ears and the pounding of his feet against the ground.

Night fell swiftly on the Shore. The distant Sun passed out of view of the gravitational lens and the temperature dropped. Thin atmospheric shells were all that prevented the Shore's inhabitants from freezing where they stood.

Harley couldn't feel the cold. He knew that wasn't good because he'd felt cold earlier but he also couldn't bring himself to do anything about it. And really, what could he do? Thanks to the Praxic suppression bands, he couldn't summon any kind of Light. Prism couldn't "heal" the cold away. There was nothing to do but keep moving.

He wasn't sure how long he'd been walking, though he knew it was a while by the pain in his legs and the weariness in his body. He hadn't slept at all on the Peak. He couldn't remember the last time he'd slept before that.

Still, he walked on.

"Harley, you need to take a break." His Ghost sounded worried. "You've been going nonstop for hours. You need to rest or you're going to crash. I can't fix exhaustion."

Harley knew that. He ignored her, pushing onward. She fell silent, but he could feel her concern through their bond like a nonstop buzzing in his head.

He'd long since given up all pretense of having a destination. Now it was simply movement for movement's sake. Inertia. The burning in his muscles distracted him from his thoughts. He didn't want to find out what would happen if he stopped now.

The miles passed under his feet; the wind was unrelenting, changing directions as though it couldn't decide what it wanted. Should it speed him along or hinder him?

He was the only thing around for miles, a single obstacle. The wind tossed dust into his eyes and snatched at his borrowed cloak as he trudged forward.

Harley didn't notice when his legs finally gave out on him. All he knew was that one second he was walking and the next, he was crumpled on the unforgiving ground.

Any thought of getting up was banished when it took him nearly all of his strength to just roll onto his back. So instead he just lay there, staring out into the infinite dark under the cold eyes of the stars.

Looking at it, he could almost believe that - should the wind propel him just right - he would fall out of the Shore and into the black.

Prism appeared above him, passing a beam over his body. Scanning for injuries that didn't exist. Her eye blazed with a piercing brightness and Harley closed his own until he heard her vanish once more. She said nothing, though he knew she wanted to.

He gazed out at the stars, the wind passing over and around him like a shroud. Would he get up and continue walking after some energy returned to him? Or would he remain?

If he stayed, something unfriendly would find him. It was just a matter of time. Would Prism still be able to revive him even if his own Light was suppressed? Some part of himself was morbidly curious. Still, he decided that he didn't have to do anything about it just then.

His mind began to stray, his thoughts wandering far afield as he peered into the starry void.

After an unknown amount of time, Harley came back to himself.

He wondered idly if he had fallen asleep, but that couldn't have happened because he didn't remember closing or opening his eyes.

His vision was hazy - the stars appeared as indistinct dots, lacking their previous clarity. His body felt oddly stiff, his lips dry and cracked, the moisture having been stripped away by the thin air and the wind.

He heard a faint noise from somewhere nearby - a slight scraping of footsteps. The air currents shifted slightly.

Harley was no longer alone.

He didn't know who or what, but something else was nearby. And if his hearing was still to be trusted, it was drawing nearer. Yet he still couldn't make himself turn his head or otherwise move.

And really, what did it matter? He had no Light and there was no way he'd escape on foot in his current state. Whatever it was would either be friend or foe - the latter being the more likely of the two - and he'd find out which it was very quickly. However, he did blink a few times in an effort to clear his vision.

It was moving faster now, he could tell by the rhythm of its footsteps against the rock. With one last burst of speed, it was upon him, skidding to a stop.

The figure peered down at him and Harley's eyes stung as he stared into the lantern they were holding. His eyes found the person's face behind the lantern's glare.

Of course. Of all the people on the Shore, only Harley would have the improbable luck of running into the same one twice.

"We have to stop meeting like this," said Kyler.

Harley could tell the mechanic was aiming for a joking tone, but his underlying concern shattered the facade.

"Kyler." The name came out hoarse, scraping against Harley's vocal cords.

"The one and only," replied the mechanic with a sigh. He set the lantern down and knelt next to Harley. "Light, Ace… What did you do to yourself this time?"

Harley frowned. He wanted to remind Kyler that he'd hardly been responsible for the events of their last meeting.

"Wasn't me," he rasped.

Kyler frowned and began messing with something on his belt. Before Harley could try to ask what it was, the mechanic produced a canteen. He began to lean closer but stopped himself.

"Are you ok with me doing this?" he asked, "It's water."

Harley felt the briefest flicker of warmth towards Kyler for remembering how he'd reacted when the mechanic had first attempted to come to his aid the last time he was on the Shore. He nodded, not trusting his voice.

Kyler lowered the canteen and tilted it slowly so Harley could drink. The water was soothing to his mouth and throat.

After he'd swallowed a few mouthfuls, Kyler screwed the cap back on and refastened it to his belt. "Can you sit up?" he asked, "...Any bullet wounds I should know about?"

"Not this time," Harley replied, "And... I can try."

To his immense gratitude, Kyler helped him sit upright. He wasn't entirely sure he could have managed it on his own at the moment.

"So," said the mechanic in a faux-light tone, "Wanna tell me why you're back on the Tangled Shore lying half-dead in the middle of nowhere again?"

"Not particularly," muttered Harley, "And I'm not half-dead."

"Agree to disagree."

"At least I don't have a Devourer Bullet in me."

Kyler snorted. "The fact that the lack of a Devourer Bullet is the best news about your situation says a hell of a lot... But I'm glad too. Mainly because this time, I'm not sure I'd be able to get you back in time to remove it."

"How did you even know I was out here?" asked Harley. He may have improbable luck, but Kyler running into him again on an out-of-the-way barren asteroid was pushing it.

"Your Ghost told me," said the mechanic.

Harley's irritation bent towards Prism. Leave it to her to find a loophole when it came to people she could contact.

"I had to ride for a while to get here," Kyler continued, "Crossed several asteroids. Lots of Scorn territory still around. I left the pike parked about a quarter of a mile back. Didn't want to risk running you over in the dark... I know you'd survive but I don't think my conscience would."

Harley remained silent as he processed that. He wasn't sure how he felt about Kyler finding him. He supposed it was better than the alternative. Though, in some ways, he might have preferred the alternative.

"Anyway," said Kyler, getting up and dusting himself off, "C'mon. You're coming back with me."

"I'd rather not," said Harley.

A flicker of hurt crossed Kyler's face and the Hunter was quick to clarify. "I just mean that you probably don't want me around," he said, "I'll just bring trouble to your door."

Kyler's tone indicated that he wasn't the least impressed. "Tough shit, Ace, I'm not leaving you out here."

"I can take care of myself," protested Harley.

Kyler raised an eyebrow, making his point far more efficiently than if he'd employed the use of words. "It wasn't a request," he said simply, "I know you can probably vaporize me with one finger but I'm fully prepared to use force."

Harley could tell the mechanic's resolve was iron. He wasn't sure what kind of "force" Kyler was threatening but he was pretty sure he wasn't referring to weapons or anything deadly. Kyler was still very obviously aware that Harley didn't trust him as he once had.

Still, whatever force the mechanic used would probably be enough. Harley was bone-tired and couldn't use the Light even if he wanted to. Any resistance he put up would be short-lived, so he decided to spare them both the unpleasantries.

"Fine," he sighed, "I'll come with you."

Kyler's relief showed blatantly, even as he tried to hide it. He'd obviously been prepared for Harley to put up more of a fight. He extended a hand to pull the Hunter to his feet.

Harley fought back a groan at the deep ache in his body. He knew Kyler could tell his legs weren't as steady as usual because the mechanic was eyeing him with concern.

"Are you ok to walk to the pike?" he asked. Harley nodded. "Are you sure? Because I can…"

He let the sentence trail off, but Harley knew what he was suggesting.

"I can walk," he said shortly, "I don't need to be carried."

He'd already been carried far too much in recent memory.

Kyler seemed surprised at Harley's snapping at him, but he didn't say anything about it. He bent to retrieve his lantern and began to walk back in what was presumably the direction he'd come from, slowing his pace a bit for Harley's benefit.

Even that small accommodation was irritating to Harley, and he pushed himself to walk faster. Just because he agreed to go back with Kyler didn't mean he had to be happy about it.

As the mechanic and the Hunter traversed the dark face of the asteroid, Harley found himself wondering what trouble awaited them down the road.

A/N: This was one of my favorite chapters to write, if not my most favorite. Harley and Kyler's dynamic is one I never get tired of, apparently. Feel free to make guesses on how the story will end, if you're up for it :)

Until the next chapter!