Of course, things were not ok, as Johnny quickly discovered the first time his new body felt the call of nature. Stubborn as always, his insistent self reliance very quickly led to an accurate facsimile of a fish out of water as he fell onto the floor (Johnny wondered when the last time he saw a real fish was), knocking over the IV stand, limps flopping around weakly as they are wont to do after excessive physical trauma and enough painkillers to drown a small dog.
Still, though, he dragged himself in the direction of where he last remembered a bathroom to be, which was not actually where he thought it was, scant memories of his awakened time in V's body earlier hardly sufficient to direct him, scaring a few people like a semi mummified corpse dragging itself out of the deep (he managed to ask them where the bathroom was politely enough, before they ran away).
And of course, after he reached the bathroom, he was immediately reminded of his current reality. V was a woman. A woman who could down shots with the best of them and had enough testosterone coursing through her veins to match that one Animals fighting champion, but a woman nonetheless. It had been many years Johnny had been in school, even before his unintentional 50 year hiatus from life, but he was pretty sure he still remembered the differences between men and women from birth, which was that women generally didn't have dicks. Not that he didn't know a few that did, there were plenty of options for self realisation these days.
But, shaking his head as he dragged himself on top of the toilet seat, this was going to take some getting used to he thought, as the last time Johnny checked, he was still a dude, most of whom had dicks, which were quite convenient for the purposes of pissing in the toilet standing up and generally leaving a mess everywhere for someone else to clean up.
He mused about getting fitted with one of those cyberdongs that certain people had been raving about. Certainly it was an option, but in the end he decided it against it. This was V's body, after all, not some kind of mannequin to dress up how he wanted, it would be disrespectful to her memory to do something that invasive and personal to her body. He supposed, deep inside, that some part of him still held out hope of seeing her again, like he was simply a chauffeur for her body - a temporary pilot keeping her safe until she could best use it again.
It was during this musing that the door to the bathroom clicked from red to green as someone overrode its lock and Johnny was greeted with Rogue's frustrated face.
"Do you mind? I'm tryin'a take a piss here," He drawled, an eyebrow raising. Rogue opened her mouth to say something, and then closed it, crossing her arms in front of her, leaning against the frame of the bathroom door in the way she always did when she was decidedly annoyed with him. He felt a smirk crawl onto his lips.
"What, are you gonna enjoy the show instead? Didn't take you for that kind of lady, Rogue."
She rolled her eyes.
"Just hurry up so I can drag your sorry ass back into bed. Having terrified guests yelling about a mummy from beyond is hardly a reputation I'd like to acquire, Johnny."
"Well excuse me for needing a piss," He retorted, shakily getting to his legs and wiping, stumbling over to the sink as the toilet flushed automatically, "Can't be helped that some of us mere mortals gotta deal with nature's call when there's no one around."
"That's what the urine bottles are for, Johnny."
Johnny looked at her as if she had grown a second head.
"Are you crazy? There's no way I'm using one of those," He insisted, trying to walk to the door. He tripped over his half dead legs instead, ending up in Rogue's arms as she caught his fall.
"Somehow, this situation feels backwards," He remarked dryly, looking up at her from her chest.
"Shut up and put your arm around me," She snapped, supporting his weight. He raised his hands up weakly in surrender, shuffling one arm around her neck, as she started walking them back in the direction of the back room.
"I could just crawl back, y'know. Maybe you should make that a feature. Afterlife - featuring mystical warriors of the afterlife!" He said, waving one hand majestically through the air as though spreading a banner.
"Don't give yourself that much credit. I haven't had you put back together only to have something tear open because of your own bullheaded stupidity, Johnny," She replied.
"Yeah, but you'd fix me up anyway."
"Just watch, one of these days I'll just refuse to help you, and then where would you be?"
"I doubt it. You could never stay away."
Rogue rolled her eyes but said nothing, as the door to the back room slid open in front of them.
"Are you going to behave yourself now?" She asked, as she helped Johnny onto the bed.
"I don't know, am I going to have a maid coming at my beck and call- oof!" He grunted as Rogue shoved him flat onto the bed, "Hey! Injured patient here!"
"Exactly, you're seriously injured, now lie down and stay there. I'll get someone to give you a hand," She said, holding up a hand to stall his predictable protest, "Just do what I tell you, for once, and you'll be out of here sooner than later."
Johnny groused to himself as she left the room, staring up at the uneven ceiling with a sigh.
"Well… shit."
He had fallen asleep at some point, though he had no idea how long exactly. Rogue hadn't left him with a clock or anything and by the time he thought about checking his Agent, it was helpful in telling him what time it was now but not how much had passed.
And then his phone started going off in his head.
"Oh shit."
Caller ID: Judy Alvarez. V's lover. There was no way in hell he was going to be able to pick up. The call rang inside his head and he closed his eyes, willing for it to go away. Eventually it did. Judy had left a voicemail, but there was no way he was going to look at it. Better for everyone to think V had died or run away than to show them the truth. To reveal the stranger wearing her skin, stealing her life.
No. It was better this way.
He opened his eyes again, trying to lift himself upright on the bed, pleasantly surprised when his arms actually did what he told them to. His arms. He looked at them again, with a frown, running a hand across an arm, feeling the smooth partition between flesh and metal. With a muscle memory he didn't remember having, he watched the arm split into the mantis blade V favoured for close up work. Still razor sharp; self sharpening as they were. With another mental flick, the arm closed again, only pale, thin lines marking the cyberware beneath.
He blew the curtain of hair out of his face. That was going to take some getting used to as well, seeing bleached white hair on the edge of his vision instead of the black locks he had sported for the better part of 20 years.
He let out a sigh, inwardly cringing at the pitch of the voice. He had already noticed V's voice speaking in his typical monotone drawl, which was just wrong in so many ways. It hadn't been a problem before, those times when he had been using her body. He'd just thought there was a way to fix it, to separate the two of them safely.
He stopped himself before he could get angry, instead trying to will his legs over the side of the bed. The cold metal floor seeped into the soles of his feet immediately, but he relished the sensation. Slowly, but surely, he stood up, legs still a little weak but much better than before. He blew a lock of hair out of his face again. A mirror, he decided. There was one on the far side of the room and he stared daggers at its insolence. How dare it be so far away? But slowly, he shuffled his way over, using the IV stand as a crutch, until he could look at himself. At his new body.
He looked at himself and saw V staring back and all the repressed guilt, and the shame, and the fury came rushing out of him against his will and he screamed in anguish as the mirror shattered under his fist. He dropped to his knees, fist weak against the unforgiving floor, tears streaming unbidden from his eyes.
He didn't resist when someone dragged him away and put him back into the bed but looking at Rogue's sympathetic face as he lay back down just made everything worse.
A week passed by in all its silence. Rogue made sure he was well fed and taken care of, as to be expected, though there was still no tequila to his dismay. He tried pushing himself a little further each day, desperate to be out of here, each day his strength returning a little more. The mirror had been replaced, though he hadn't looked at it since then, trying to pretend he wasn't the ghostsitter of V's body, though that was impossible, really, with all the reminder he needed every time he looked down or had to go to the toilet. But he felt like it was time to hit the road.
When Rogue next came around with a platter of brothy noodles, he voiced his thoughts, between mouthfuls.
"Hey, Rogue. Where are V's clothes?"
If she noticed the way he referred to them as her clothes, she didn't say anything.
"In your apartment, one presumes. The ones you were wearing when we brought you back were in no state to be worn again," She replied, eyeing him cautiously. Johnny let out a huff.
"Great. So what, I gotta walk around here half naked now?" He complained.
"Don't be ridiculous, Johnny, I would never do my guests a disservice like that. I'll have some clothes for you by the morning," She said, still looking at him with a knowing glint in her eye. "Johnny… what are you planning?"
"You know me. Thinkin' it's high time I got out of here, hit the road and all that. There's nothing in Night City for me anyway," He replied. Rogue frowned.
"Nothing."
"Yep. Nada."
"Johnny-"
"You would never join me and you know it. You've got yourself far too nice a setup here to leave it now," He retorted, crossing his arms and then thinking better of it. He hesitated. "That and… well… You've moved on, Rogue."
"I-"
"Don't deny it. It's… it's good that you have. I'm glad," He lied.
Silence filled the room as they stared at each other. She turned away first. Wordlessly, she collected the platter, standing up.
"I'll have some clothes for you by the morning," She said, as she left the room.
Johnny sat back against the pillow, rubbing his chin in frustration. At least he'd be out of the awful gown soon. If he didn't die of boredom first.
"What," He asked, when Rogue came in with a pile of clothes in her arms, "the fuck is that?"
"Don't be stupid, Johnny, god knows how many you've taken off in your life."
"It's a bra."
"Yes."
"Why is there a bra?"
"I don't know if you've noticed, Johnny, but you need one now."
"I am not wearing a bra."
"Spare me your tantrums, Johnny. You'll regret it if you don't wear one."
"I'm Johnny motherfucking Silverhand. I take bras off hot women. I don't wear them."
She shut him up with a ball of clothes to the face. With a grunt, he started looking through the pile, though the look and feel was awfully familiar, like his face with the floor after a long gig. He held a jacket in front of his face.
"You made more of these?"
"Samurai merch is still sought after, Johnny. Especially after that reunion gig you helped Kerry throw."
Johnny grinned at the reminder, looking at the flaming oni skull on the back of the leather jacket. He put it down, picking through the rest of the clothes. A plain white shirt, leather trousers, his favourite ensemble.
"Ah, Rogue, you know me so well."
"I should hope so, considering how often I had to throw them at you."
He let out a hum of not quite agreement, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and stretching (he could touch his toes now, which was definitely new), before standing up. He looked at the clothes sitting on the bed, at Rogue, then back to the clothes.
"So, are you going to stay for the show, or?..."
Rogue rolled her eyes and left the room, leaving him to his own devices. He waited until he was sure she wasn't just waiting outside the door before stripping off the hospital gown and tugging on the boxers. He thanked non specific deities that they were boxers. He wasn't sure he'd have been able to cope with panties or something. He grabbed the shirt from the bed and frowned. Something was wrong about the shirt but he couldn't put his finger on why. He tugged his arms through the sleeves and started to button it up when he realised what had been nagging at him. The buttons were on the wrong side.
This was, of course, not the world ending discovery that he might have played it up as, but it was a little frustrating to realise that it was a blouse and not a shirt as he had first assumed. Johnny wondered who exactly Rogue saw when she looked at him. He finished putting it on. It fit perfectly. It was far too tight across the chest.
The door slid open.
"So how does it fit?" Asked Rogue as she walked in.
"Perfectly," He replied, "Just…"
"What?"
"I dunno. Just feels… tight." He said. Rogue frowned.
"They shouldn't. They were sized perfectly."
"Yeah, well, maybe it's not a size problem."
"What is that supposed to mean?" She asked, looking offended.
"Don't get your knickers in a twist, Rogue, it's not a you thing. It's just…" He let out a wordless urgh of exasperation, "It just doesn't feel right."
Rogue pursed her lips but said nothing, instead looking pointedly at the underwear left on the bed.
"I'm not wearing that, Rogue."
She looked at him.
"No. I will not."
She looked at the bra and back at him.
"Rogue-"
She pointed at it. He threw his hands up in the air and started unbuttoning his shirt, fumbling with the flipped buttons, throwing it at her face.
"Alright, I'm putting it on, happy?" He groused. She smirked, looking away. He grumbled the whole while as he started struggling with the bra.
That, of course, was how he ended up looking at himself in the mirror again.
By the time he had finished putting everything on, complete with his favourite pair of aviators tucked into his front jacket pocket, he felt a little more complete and even more like an imposter.
"How do I look?" He asked, tugging at the lip of his leather trousers.
"Like an obsessive groupie, one that isn't sure whether she wants to be with you, or be you," Rogue drawled.
"I can't believe you compared me to one of them," He groaned. She shrugged.
"Just telling it like it is, Johnny."
He shook his head, blowing a loose strand of hair out of his face.
"Well, whatever, it'll do. So do I check out now, nurse?"
"No. You should be resting for another few weeks at least but we both know you're not going to listen."
He smirked at the admission.
"And my gear?"
She pointed over her shoulder at a small pack on the floor by the bed.
"Everything's in there. Everything that was salvageable, that is," She said.
"What's that supposed to mean?" He asked with a frown, walking over to the bag and taking a look inside.
"You'll see."
He did see, eventually. V's shoulder rig, spare munitions and her trusty RT-46 tech revolver, all there and accounted for, but no rifles, and more importantly-
"Where's my gun."
"Johnny-"
She hadn't needed to say anything. Johnny could already tell by the look on her face.
"Fuck! Seventy fucking years-"
"Johnny, I'm sorry-"
Johnny opened his mouth and then shut it again, gritting his teeth and letting out a long, hissing breath. It was just a gun. Just a gun, he repeated to himself. Sure, it was his favourite gun, custom made to his specifications by Malorian Arms so many years ago, and it still blew most guns today out of the water in performance, but it was still just a gun.
Just a gun that was as much a part of his identity as his now nonexistent, self proclaimed 'impressive cock'.
He let out another frustrated groan as he slipped the shoulder rig on.
"Johnny-"
"It's ok. I'm fine," He lied. He had been doing a lot of that lately. He tugged the lapels of his jacket forward, relishing the familiarity of the flared collar, checking the revolver and holstering it. Silence filled the room again.
"... Where will you go now?"
"Well, I gotta take care of a few things first. Make sure V's apartment never gets sold, pay my respects, that sort of thing. Probably stay in Pacifica while I'm doin' that. After that? Well, it's anyone's guess," He said, looking at Rogue. It was weird to be looking her in the eye and not be looking down at her.
"Why don't you stay here while you do that?" She asked, an unreadable expression on her face.
"Can't. Won't."
"Which is it?"
"Both. Neither," He replied, looking away from her intense stare, "I appreciate everything you've done for me these past couple weeks, Rogue, but I can't keep taking advantage of your hospitality."
"It's not taking advantage if it's offered freely."
Johnny let out a snort.
"Rogue, you're Night City's best fixer. You'd find a way to make use of me eventually."
"Is that what you think?"
"You'd be a fool not to."
Rogue didn't say anything to that.
"And what about V's friends?" She asked, eventually.
"What about them?"
"Don't they deserve to know what happened?"
Johnny shook his head slowly.
"Better they think she's dead than find out what really happened. I'm just a ghost wearing the face of the person they really love."
Rogue let out a noncommittal hum. Johnny crammed the rest of V's belongings into the bag, hefting it onto his shoulder, brushing more hair out of his face.
"So you're just going to leave again. Just like that."
Johnny looked at Rogue again, listened to the words unspoken on her lips, and plastered a grin on his face, taking out his aviators and putting them on with a flick.
"Yeah. I am. See ya around, Rogue. Take care."
