"Host, you are hungry. You must eat."

Miles pressed both hands to his ears, humming loudly to ignore the Walrider and his roaring stomach. Sure he was hungry, but he was also exhausted. He just wanted to sleep.

"You know that doesn't work. We can still communicate with You."

"What if I don't wanna listen to your bullshit anymore? Is there an off switch on you?"

"We do not understand that comment. We need food to function. Give Us food, Host."

Miles had his fair share of shitty living spaces. When he was eighteen, he was kicked out and homeless, confined to sleeping in his jeep.

Later on he moved in with his then boyfriend, who lived in the shadiest tenants known to man. The neighbors were drunk every single night, partying nonstop and screaming their heads off. He never had a good night's sleep when he lived there.

And yet, those obnoxious neighbors didn't even begin to scratch the surface of how annoying the Walrider was. Not only was the Walrider his permanent roommate, but they were stuck in his head all the damn time. He couldn't even sleep without hearing their quips.

He rolled over on his stomach, and stretched like a cat on the surface of car seats in the back. They were quiet now. Maybe he could close his eyes and doze off for a few seconds, he would be fine. He had slept in the jeep dozens of nights before, this would be no different-

"Host."

Miles groaned. "What?"

"We require nutrients."

"I'll get some food in the morning, shut the fuck up now and lemme sleep."

"No, Host. Now."

"Five more minutes." He scrambled for his phone. It read 2:34am. He tossed it to the ground and lay back down. "2am? How can I be hungry at 2am?"

"As our Host, you have a stronger appetite thanks to your connection to Us."

"Well too bad for us, because I don't know this area at all, and I certainly don't know if anyone would let me order food at this hour," Miles murmured, letting his stomach growl. "And I didn't pack any snacks before you ask. The hospital might have a vending machine, but I don't wanna attract any attention."

"Might We propose a suggestion?"

"Sure, shoot."

"We could go hunting." The Walrider's dark strands twisted around him, almost like an embrace. A really cold embrace. It was hard getting used to that without shivering.

"Hunting?" He scrunched his nose, thinking they were joking. "For what, a deer? There aren't any woods nearby even if I wanted to do that. Which I don't."

"No, Host, let Us explain our thought process. You will find a defenseless human wandering alone. You will creep towards it without it noticing, because they are not smart. We will help attack them, and then you will consume its flesh as it screams in ago-"

"What the fuck, no!" Miles tried to slap away the wisps, only for it to disappear. "I am not eating a person either! Gross!"

He had seen Variants eat dead bodies before. When he saw it, he had wanted to throw up, and nearly did. He couldn't imagine being so hungry, so desperate to eat another man. The thought of even breaking the skin with his teeth made him gag.

The Walrider acted like a human in some ways, from the way they spoke and certain mannerisms. But the more he listened, the worse he felt being attached to them.

He tried not to think too hard about how animalistic the Walrider was, and instead focused on his hunger. It was getting worse. "We're getting McDonalds. Do you know what that is?"

The Walrider tilted their head.

He sighed, already punching in his location into DoorDash. It was a new application, and he wasn't certain it would even deliver to where he was. But sure enough, it did.

"Figures you wouldn't, since your first suggestion was cannibalism. God..." He ran a hand through his curls. "That is revolting. What did I do to deserve this?"

The poor DoorDash delivery boy looked incredibly confused and terrified as he dropped off a bag at three in the morning in an empty hospital parking lot. Regardless, once he left, Miles poked his head out the window and grinned.

"Coast is clear. Stay back." He warned, though even as he left his jeep, he felt the presence of something following him. "Christ's sake, you don't need to follow me everywhere like a lost dog."

"We know, Host but...We worry about your safety."

"Please, aren't I invincible now?" He chuckled and picked up the bags, already eating a few fries. The fries were still warm, thankfully.

They didn't answer, so he stared back at the dark cloud. "Uh, Walrider?"

"We have ...We have never had a Host that wasn't connected to the Morphogenic Engine before. And even then, Billy was destroyed."

"Yeah, because I turned off life support. That had nothing to do with you, right?" He returned to the jeep and properly unwrapped his feast. "Guess you're right though. If I was invincible, I'd have my fingers back."

"We healed your broken leg and other minor injuries and yet you still complain."

"The broken leg was technically your fault." He retorted, taking a huge bite of his Big Mac and moaned as his taste buds were greeted with a burst of flavors.

"This food substance is 75% grease." The Walrider commented in disgust. "And the rest is all sugar."

"Mhm..." He inhaled the burger and reached for another.

"That's incredibly unhealthy, Host. Look, the grease is going to stain everything!"

"Now look who's complaining?" Miles licked his fingers and stuck his tongue out. He continued to eat two more burgers, some nuggets and the rest of his fries before washing it all down with soda. He wanted a milkshake but the machine was broken, as usual.

"That was surprisingly delicious."

"See?" Miles leaned back. "I feel better already."

"You wont for long." They snapped. "If We are going to share a body with you, Host then we request a much more balanced diet."

"Fine, I'll get a salad next time, okay? Chill."

The Walrider huffed again, settling down beside him.

"I'm going back to sleep, so don't bug me. And don't make me share a dream with Waylon again. I didn't even know I could do that."

"Only with those who have been exposed to the Engine in some capacity will be able to share dreams with you." replied the Walrider. "And no, it is unlikely you will."

"Good." He yawned loudly as he closed his eyes. "Wake me up before noon."

"Rest easy, Host."

Miles didn't recall ever waking up, but when he did, he realized he wasn't in the jeep anymore. He was awoken by the smell of smoke and possibly shaving cream wafting around the apartment. He was still lying down in a bed, but covered in cotton blankets over his naked body. Well, at least up to the tip of his nipples. Which was weird.

From the chirping birds outside, he could tell it was early morning, but the sky was still dark, a midnight blue with some scattered stars visible through the window.

He shifted his weight slightly. It was then, by the sudden movement, he became aware that he wasn't alone in this bed. Arms wrapped around him, gentle and chilled at the touch. He melted into the embrace, nearly forgetting that comforting feeling, for it had been so long.

"Mm..." his boyfriend Jesse croaked, voice hoarse from sleep. "Alarm ain't ringing yet, go back to sleep."

"It will soon." He found himself replying.

"Stay here a little longer. Please?"

Miles relented, turning around to face his boyfriend's bright eyes, exhausted but alert like shimmering emeralds filled with adoration for him. His smile widened, revealing the dimples across his pale cheeks. He leaned forward, nuzzling the crook of his neck before pressing his lips against his.

"I don't have work today." Jesse commented, placing his fingertips tracing against Miles' fresh chest scars. At the subtle flinch from the touch, Jesse automatically moved away, to play with the strands of stray curls over his face. The chills in Miles' spine reacted like electricity, and he eagerly kissed him again.

"Do you have any assignments? Because if you want...we could spend the day here." He suggested.

"I don't." Miles admitted, wanting to hold on longer. "Shit. I mean I do want to spend the day with you but..." His words were cut off with a yawn.

"But...?" Jesse smirked. "Let me guess, you do have an assignment. What's it this time? Are you gonna interview some sharks on the Gold Coast?"

He was teasing, but honestly that did sound like something Miles would do. He loved exciting stories. Stories that would land him in trouble.

But his stomach twisted in knots, as he looked at Jesse's laid back grin, blissfully unaware of what was about to happen. Miles didn't know how to tell him how this particular adventure-assignment was more dangerous than anything he had ever covered.

Jesse's smile faded. "Miles?"

"I need to tell you something." He sighed, turning to lie on his back. Jesse mirrored him and frowned. "Don't look at me like that, okay? It's good news."

"Okay..." He rested his head on Miles' shoulder. "Then what's up?"

"I do have a new assignment. And you're gonna hate it." He sighed, ripping the bandaid off. "I'm going overseas to cover the war."

"Like hell you are." Even though he couldn't see Jesse's reaction, he could hear the smile behind his words. He thought he was joking. That made everything so much harder.

"Shut up, I'm serious." He said, firmer this time. "I'm going to Afghanistan."

"You- what?" Jesse swallowed, shaking his head. "No...no...are you serious?"

"I got the call last week and I said yes. Can't go back on my word now, it wouldn't be professional." He tried to meet Jesse's alarmed expression, but the other man had turned away, their hands no longer intertwined. "Jess, come on-"

"Don't."

"I know I should have told you but..." He rubbed the back of his neck. "You know..."

He sighed, fiddling with the blankets. "When are you going?"

"Three weeks."

"And you only decided to tell me now?" Jesse's eyebrows furrowed, still refusing to look at him from hurt.

"Because I knew you would react this way! Getting all freaked out over something that's supposed to be a huge achievement."

"Because I care about you!" He snapped back. "You do dangerous shit like this all the time, and I'm constantly worrying that one day you're gonna get yourself killed and..." His face crumpled. "I just can't."

"I won't get myself killed. I'm not going out on the battlefield, I'm just reporting what I can and trying to get real, raw footage."

That was again, a lie. He knew reporters like him-essentially adrenaline junkies were risk takers, and would take the wrong move. He heard about the nine reporters caught in a collision between an exploding building in Kabul last week. Even more civilians were involved.

There were no survivors.

"That doesn't matter, you could still be in serious danger." Jesse's voice distracted him, his eyes pleading him to reconsider. And he almost did. "I know you thrive on interesting stories, but I can't watch you be sent away to your own death, Miles. It'll be a hundred times worse for people like you-"

"I know." He grunted, feeling a twinge of annoyance. Although he knew Jesse was right, he didn't need to be lovingly patronized. "But that isn't going to hold me back. And frankly, if I get to help the people living there-suffering there, in some capacity, then it'll be worth it."

He looked like at him like a kicked puppy

"Hey, it'll be alright." He gently caressed Jesse's cheek, hoping to see him smile again.

"You don't know that." His weak response came out as a whisper.

"No, I guess I don't." Miles frowned. "But I'm gonna do my best to get back to you when this is all over. You an' me against the world, baby. Remember when I told you that?"

Jesse nodded and finally turned his head to meet his gaze, snorting in response. "I do. That was years ago, I thought it was so corny. Still do." His lips formed a small smile, as though he was seeing the memory all over again.

They were both flat out drunk after a party and somehow Miles had dragged him outside to go stargazing. They did, and Miles constantly pointed out the airplanes, insisting they were shooting stars. They were so young then, only freshmen, with bright eyes and huge futures ahead of them. Miles had yet to discover himself at the time, hell, he wasn't even Miles then. By name at least.

That was a long time ago. Jesse and Miles broke apart when the memory faded, and the former's eyes wandered. Even though the decision has not been made, it was clear what Miles intended to do.

"I'm going."

"I know you are. You're too stubborn for your own good." murmured Jesse, and Miles swore he caught him blinking back. "But I just don't get it. After everything we've been through?"

"And I realize this makes me look like I was taking advantage of you this whole time. You were the one who took me in after all. But I do care about you, and I…can't say no to this."

"I care about you too. I love you so much and I can't bear to see you leave."

He couldn't find it in his heart to say those words back.

He woke up with a gasp. The dream, still vivid, was circling around his mind in rapid movements. Like an old timey camera snapping photographs.

It was so clear, not because it wasn't only a dream. It was a memory. He had relieved a memory.

"Okay, what the fuck?" Miles swore, sitting upright to crack his back-only to smack his head directly on the roof of the car. "Ow! Fuck!"

He could hear static rippling throughout the car.

"Walrider..." He rubbed his temples to soothe the bump on his head. "So help me, if you're laughing-"

"We would never do such a thing, Host."

He raised an eyebrow. "Was that sarcasm I just heard?"

"You are a bad influence on Us."

"Ha, probably. You've been around for half a century, so I'm sure you've heard of sarcasm before though." Miles checked out the window-the real window, not his dream window. It had to be mid afternoon by now. Thankfully they were in a corner behind a dumpster, so no one seemed to be interested in checking the suspicious jeep near a hospital parking lot.

"Question...what was last night about?" He waited until the Walrider's misty form appeared. "That wasn't a dream, that actually happened. What did I tell you about invading my privacy? That includes private memories!"

"Your subconscious dreamt that, not Us." replied the Walrider. "We did not mean to intrude, but We did not know it was a memory."

"Yeah, sure you didn't." He scoffed. "Why would I dream of something like that? It happened ages ago."

"We are unsure." But the way the Walrider seemed to swiftly fade from view convinced Miles otherwise. His eyes narrowed, suspicious.

"Liar. You were snooping my memories! Admit it!"

"We live inside your mind, it's impossible for Us not to!" They retorted. "We only wanted to know more about Our Host."

"You don't have the right to do that, you creepy piece of-"

"Host!" They stopped him from attempting to strangle their non physical form by disappearing into thin air, leaving Miles to yell another string of insults at them. "We did not mean to upset You. We...only wanted to understand."

"Understand what?"

"You, Host."

That was not the answer he had been expecting. "You want to understand me?"

"Our...experience with You is limited. You do not share anything about yourself. We understand why because We have not been connected to you for very long. And We were confused to find no memories with other people. Billy had friends and a family. Not good ones but...a family. We saw nothing with you."

"Yeah, I get it, I'm a hermit. What else did you see?"

"Not much. The memories We found seemed distressing, so We did not look further."

Miles hummed. "Distressing, yeah you could say that."

"But then We found the memory with another human-"

"Jesse." He supplied.

"Yes. And we got curious. Was he a companion?"

He stared out the tinted window wistfully, watching a plastic bag blow away with the window. "More than that."

"We know he was not family, because in the previous memory you two were sharing an intimate moment-"

"Okay Walrider, that's enough, don't need to go into that!" He blurted out in flustered frustration. "And yeah I don't have a family. "He was better than family. He was my everything. Then I fucked it up." He closed his eyes. "God, why am I telling you this? You're not even a person. You're some parasite in my mind who invades my dreams and finds all my secrets. I bet you know I'm-"

The Walrider cut him off. "We could help You. These memories are plaguing your thoughts."

"No you can't. He's gone." Miles groaned. "Not dead. Just gone. He left ages ago."

"Why would he leave You, Host? You are strong and powerful."

"You saw the memory, figure it out yourself." He clenched his jaw. "In a nutshell, I fuck up relationships big time, and then they leave. It's a tale as old as time."

"We saw the memory, yes, but We are still confused. Why did he get upset with you?"

Miles wanted to snap back, to yell at the stupid nanite swarm for interrogating him like this about his personal life, no less. And yet, he couldn't. Not because he didn't want to, but the energy in him was lost. Maybe it was the memory coming back to haunt him. Maybe it was the effects of the Walrider telling him to keep talking. It wasn't like he had anyone else to talk to. He had never told any soul about what he experienced.

The Walrider was no human soul at least. He couldn't believe he was about to share his thoughts and feelings to a swarm of microscopic machines.

"About seven years ago, when I was still in college, I was given the assignment to report on the ongoing war in Afghanistan. I accepted, obviously and he tried to make me reconsider. I understand why now, obviously but at the time, I was just so excited to go. I was naive. Plus, it's not like I had anyone besides Jesse who would miss me.

It's weird now, because if I knew what I was getting into, I would have said no and stayed with him. You change as a person going into a war zone. I never went into battle, but I was in the zone, you know? Like a few inches short of getting shot. I was close enough to hear the guns blasting through the air, bullets piercing through their skin. You probably wouldn't get it because you're you, but God, I hated it. I still hear their screams in my dreams. And then I ended up getting fired anyway. So it wasn't really worth it, the trauma I mean."

"We noticed that You were upset." They admitted. "We didn't think much of it, since We assumed it was from the previous night's events back at the asylum where you met Us."

He huffed out a laugh. "It's funny, back in the war, I kept telling myself I should be dead. I should have died back then, I was inches away from death and yet…here I am. Then with Mount Massive, I should have died at least twenty different times. Almost everyone else did. Trager, Walker, Father Martin, all those bodies lying around. I should have been another mutilated corpse buried in the dirt."

"We made it clear You were meant to survive, Host. We made sure of that."

"Yeah, except I wasn't the only survivor. Park was too." His eyes wide comically and he smacked his forehead. "Park! How could I forget? Aw shit. I should probably check up on him."

"It has been a few days, he's most likely dead now."

"Shut up." Miles swung the jeep's door wide open, before glancing down at his attire. "I should probably change. Luckily I came prepared for this." He had packed several clothes and other essentials from DC in the back. He hadn't changed since leaving the asylum, which explained why he smelt like dead bodies. But in all honesty, he had more important things to worry about than smelling bad. The clothes he was wearing currently looked like they would be permanently stained, so he opted for dragging out his duffel bag and changing behind a convenient nearby bush.

When he returned, he was dressed in a Green Day t-shirt and ripped black jeans that he had kept for more than a decade. He already felt cleaner and more prepared to chat with Waylon about their next plan. He obviously could not leave the poor man in the hospital without any clue of what to do. He only wished he could have a nice bubble bath in addition.

The Walrider did not comment on his outfit when they reappeared but he didn't care. He wasn't going to expect the nanite monster to know anything about fashion.

"It's time for Operation Break Waylon Out of the Hospital Because We Need to Go on the Run From Murkoff." His shoulders lifted in a lazy shrug at the Walrider's unamused glare. "It's a working title. Anyway, we'll sneak in, grab him, and take him back home. Shouldn't be too hard."

"What about Us? What will You do once we save the human?"

Miles shivered, glancing at his hands which seemed to look paler than before. He didn't think that far ahead, apart from saving Waylon and exposing Murkoff. Surely he couldn't return home looking like this? He wasn't even sure he was fully human.

He didn't have anyone to come back to, except for his house plants in his apartment. Would anyone miss him? He supposed not. He could still run his blog while cruising around in the jeep. He had done it years ago. He could do it now.

"We'll worry about that later. Now, we can't go the normal way by talking to hospital staff because of my ...condition. So, we'll need to brainstorm. Any ideas?" He started to make his way into the sunlit pavement, hands pressed against the walls and examining the individual bricks leading to the windows. "I could scale this wall, climb up to the windows and see which room he's in. That'll take some time though."

"We could fly. It will make the search go by faster."

"Fly? No way. I am not doing that again-'' Miles shook his head in disgust, but before he could protest, he found himself being lifted into the air by what appeared to be small black insects twitching about. "No, Walrider! Stop! Ugh, put me down you- I command you to- '' He shut his eyes tight, but that didn't stop his stomach from lurching. "I hate this."

"We know, but it is the best way to get to the human, is it not?"

Miles covered his mouth and nodded weakly. "Yeah I guess."

Together, the Walrider helped him land on a somewhat narrow ledge beside a window. He had shimmeyed on ledges so many times from higher feets, that this was a piece of cake. Even if he stumbled, the Walrider would hopefully catch him. The only problem was not being caught by any passerbys. He was still getting used to his transformation, he didn't need more people finding out about it.

It took some time to carefully move across the ledge and check each individual window, but luckily, he managed to find Waylon's room soon enough. But the window was closed, locked, and Waylon was strapped to a shit ton of IVs.

"This complicates things." He muttered, shooting the Walrider a look. "I'm gonna try to get his attention, but you need to hide. He's a little...traumatized by the sight of you. No offense."

The Walrider made a sound that almost sounded like a scoff, which Miles ignored. He carefully knocked on the window, alerting Waylon immediately, who already looked alarmed and terrified. He gave him a quick wave, which Waylon did not respond to, so he tapped again.

"Either he can't move from the IVs or he's not getting the message. Walrider, do you think you could open the-?" The windows snapped open. "Thank you," and crawled inside despite Waylon's obvious protests.

"Heyyy..." He scrambled to his feet and approached the bedside.

"So it wasn't a dream." Waylon croaked. "You really are that... monster."

Miles hadn't had a chance to look at his reflection, but Waylon probably was right. He still scowled. "Hello to you too, asshole. You would think you would show a little more respect to the guy who, I dunno, saved your life!" Miles plopped down on the edge of the bed. "I could have left you back at Mount Massive to bleed out and die. But, nooooo, because I'm such a good person I told the Walrider we would save you. So we did."

Waylon blinked back at him. "You have to understand that this is a lot to process, right?"

"Think about how it is for me!"

"I mean, obviously it's hard for you-but this whole time we were treating the Walrider like a monster, which it is, and now you're acting like you're fully a part of it."

"We are connected to our Host,ungrateful human. How is that difficult to understand?"

"Yeah, but he doesn't get that yet." Miles replied. "And don't call him that."

"Excuse me?"

He froze. "Oh shit, sorry. Just talking to myself. You know how it is."

"I really don't but I'm also high as fuck on painkillers and delirious from my fever so I'm not gonna question it." Waylon sighed. "What are you really doing here?"

"Checking up on you." The answer was forced, but still honest. "You look like hell."

Waylon scowled and rolled his eyes. "Thanks, I just came back from it."

He couldn't hold back a chuckle. "You must be doing better if you're making references to cult classics during a time like this. How you doing?"

"Fine, I guess."

His eyes wandered around, settling not on Waylon, but a lone telephone hanging lopsided away from its cord. "What's that about?"

"What's...what about?"

Miles rose from the bed and walked towards the phone, picking it up from its wire. He thought about putting it back in its holder, then looked at Waylon. "Did you call anyone recently?"

Immediately Waylon became defensive. "So what if I did? It- it was in my room."

"Who did you call, Park?" He demanded, voice shaking with panic rather than anger.

"No one. It fell." He didn't look back at Miles.

"Did you call the cops?"

Waylon was silent. That stressed him out even more. This wasn't supposed to happen. They were supposed to expose Murkoff on their own terms. Not involve the police and get into more danger.

"Park, you better answer me right now-"

"Why does it matter if I did? Shouldn't law enforcement know about what happened?" His voice was dangerously low. "About what we saw? About what happened to you?"

"Absolutely not!" He snarled, smacking the phone aggressively into the holder. "Think for one goddamn second, Park! Do you honestly think the police would believe a story like this? They would think we're lunatics!"

"There's plenty of proof in the asylum-"

"That's burned to the ground by now." Miles replied curtly. "I saw it as we left. You were unconscious."

Waylon deflated, the weight of the situation sinking in.

"We have enough evidence on our cameras but we can't go sharing it right now when we're still being targeted."

"I know. I saw what happened last time I got caught trying to expose what was going on but this-"

"We need to stay quiet and then expose Murkoff not-not do this shit." He wanted to pull his hair out from frustration at Park's stupidity. "And then there's my condition. The police will contact Murkoff, and they'll track me down, put me in hellavua more danger than..."

He whipped around and ground his teeth from the stress, or perhaps the animalistic behavior of the Walrider was finally kicking in. "They'll find me, lock me up as some freaky science experiment and it's game over. Don't go thinking you'll be safe either. You and your family are fucked too. Park, how could you have been so stupid?"

"Miles, I didn't contact the police."

"You-what?" He couldn't help but feel suspicious. "You swear?"

"I thought about it, but ultimately didn't." He said. "I was too worried about what would happen to us, and my family so...I called Lisa."

That name didn't ring any bells. "Am I supposed to know or care about who Lisa is?"

"My wife, Lisa. Can you let me explain before you make wild accusations again?"

He took a deep breath. "Sorry, but in my defense you didn't exactly deny it and I'm under a lot of stress right now! Why did you call her? Aside from the whole, she deserves to know because you're a disgustingly sweet married couple and need to tell each other everything bullshit."

"I'm gonna choose to ignore that comment." Waylon replied dryly. "Um. So I may have told her because...I needed to prepare her for the worst."

"Eh, makes sense. Murkoff probably has eyes on her too, being married to you and all."

"No, Miles, listen." He swallowed and shook his head miserably. "One of the doctors who worked on my surgery, she came in, asked some normal questions. And I might have..." He cringed. "I told her about Murkoff."

"Jesus Christ..." Miles wanted to bang his head against the wall like one of those self mutilating Variants. "Waylon, what the fuck?"

"I know, I know it was stupid! That's why I warned Lisa!"

"That puts our plan on a time crunch." Miles grumbled.

"What do you mean?"

"It's only a matter of time before that doctor tells the police. They probably already have. Then the police'll contact Murkoff, go in for questioning and then Murkoff will butter themselves up, remove any shred of evidence they had and then everything will get pushed under the rug. Basically the whole thing I was ranting about."

"What do you propose We do?" chimed in the Walrider.

"What do we do?" Waylon asked, not having heard what the Walrider said beside the buzz of static.

"See I was thinking we go on the run, have you escaped with your family somewhere once I bring you home. It's not the perfect plan but..."

"No, but it's good enough." Waylon stated firmly. "We need to get out of here as soon as possible, if that's the plan we're going with. The only issue is," He gestured towards his IVs dangling around. "This whole situation."

"Yeah, I can see how that would be a problem." Miles hummed thoughtfully. He perked up. "I'll just pull em' out! Easy peasy!"

"What? No!" Waylon pulled away. "Are you crazy? You're not a doctor, you don't know what you're doing! I'm supposed to be on bed rest anyway."

"We don't have time for that!" Miles retorted. "Don't worry, I've done this once before."

"Wh- what? You have?"

"It was back in college, one of my friends got totally fucked in a car accident and she was hooked up to all these wires, right?" Miles examined each individual IV while Waylon increasingly became more panicked. "So she really wanted to stretch her legs. And I told her, Brit, you're gonna make it worse, just wait until the doc says you're ready. But she said, no I need to walk around. So what else was I supposed to do?"

"Not do that...?"

"So I ripped them out." He explained, checking Google for how to properly do it without harming Waylon. "We didn't have phones at the time, I didn't even Google. I just did it."

"Was your friend okay?"

Miles stared back at him seriously. "No, she was all kinds of messed up. You ready?" He didn't wait for an answer and instead pulled out the first wire on Waylon's wrist. He did the next few in a decent amount of time, then glanced at the urinary one. "Do you want me to-"

"No." Waylon said flatly. "I got it."

It didn't take long to fly Waylon back to the jeep. Both men were quiet, neither of them knowing what to say. The Walrider was also quiet, noticing Waylon's apprehension towards them and even deciding to hang out in the back seat.

"I'll drive." Miles offered. "Obviously. And I pick the music on the radio. Do you need help getting in?"

"No, I've got it." As Waylon opened the door, he stumbled, pulling back on the door and his cane. Miles grabbed him by the waist and helped him inside wordlessly. "Thanks."

Miles climbed inside and turned the keys into ignition. "Ready? Put your address in the GPS for me."

"Got it."

Miles listened to the hum of his old jeep as it pulled away from the driveway and into the main road. They sat in silence, fully focused on the road ahead. Occasionally the GPS would chime in with a direction, but that was it. Finally, Waylon spoke up.

"Our lives are about to change, aren't they?"

Miles' eyes glazed over the rear-view mirror, catching a glimpse of the mountains leading to Mount Massive. He couldn't see the building, if it truly burned in Father Martin's fiery crucifixion. He didn't think he needed to.

"Yeah, they really are."

If he was being honest, he might as well be driving them to their own funeral.