Ferral knew he was sick. Sometimes he woke up a little, took a look at himself, and was horrified. But the rest of the time, he existed in the same haze of fear that had settled on him in the Dreadnaught. Sometimes he thought he was still lost in the horrible ship, stumbling through Hive muck, fighting thralls hand to hand, and blundering into huge worms that formed a writhing wall. In those times, it was only Banner's patient, calm voice that guided him, step by step, out of the darkness.

He couldn't seem to get ahead of the hallucinations. Without Banner, he would have forgotten to eat, sleep, or even seek shelter from the rain. He couldn't remember the last time he had bathed or even looked at his appearance.

He was in between episodes, sitting outside in the weak sun, trying to get warm, when a Vanguard ship flew over and landed nearby. Ferral leaped to his feet and stood there, gripping the sidearm he didn't remember drawing.

A guardian approached through the trees. A warlock in an armored robe.

Lethia.

Ferral recognized her with a shock. Why had she come? He had killed her ghost. She hated him. Maybe she had come to take him to prison. Everything was mixed in his brain. Had he killed her ghost on the Dreadnaught? There had been Hive. A wizard. And he'd used his void knives. How long ago was that? He couldn't remember.

Lethia halted and stared at him. She carried her helmet under one arm, but her hair was still combed and trimmed in the same Awoken style. And her eyes - still that odd shade of blue-green.

"Ferral?" she said cautiously.

"Lethia," he said. "You've come to take me back, haven't you?"

"N-no," she said. "I thought you were dead. I've been trying to find you."

"Not dead yet," he said. He realized he had his sidearm trained on her, and returned it to its holster. "Sorry. Still a little jumpy."

"I see," she said. "I brought supplies. I can bring them in, if you want."

Ferral smiled for the first time in what felt like years. "That's kind of you. I'll help."

It felt good to lift boxes and carry them around. His body needed the exercise. His mind cleared a little - enough to notice her ship, the make and model, and ask her about the engine performance. It was refreshing to think about something other than the Dreadnaught.

Back in his shack, he watched her unpack far more food than he could eat, as well as blankets, clothing, and basic necessities like soap and dishes.

"I don't need all this," he told her.

"I need them," she replied. "Because I'm going to stay here and take care of you."

He bristled a little. "I don't need a babysitter, Lethia. I can take care of myself."

"Oh yeah?" she snapped. "Look at yourself. When was the last time you changed those clothes?"

Ferral looked down at his greasy chest plate. His armor was grimy, the gloves filthy black. When had he last taken any of it off? He didn't remember.

"Look," she said, a hand on one hip. "I can see that you're sick. I think I can help, because I watched what they did in the Tower for other sick Guardians. But you have to work with me."

Ferral nodded. Part of him resented being bossed around. But another part of him was relieved to have another person nearby who would look after him, especially during the dark times.

"Tell me one thing," he said. "Did I really kill your ghost?"

Lethia held out a hand. Niki appeared over it. "You stabbed him with a shadow blade. I brought him back with Void Light, which locked him into it. But Ikora thinks he can regain the other kinds of Light, in time."

Ferral frowned at Niki. "That wasn't on the Dreadnaught?"

"Mars."

He sort of remembered Mars - riding a sparrow through curtains of blowing dust. Hadn't Banner been hurt? No, that had been even earlier. Here, in the Reef.

He must have looked confused, because Lethia expression softened. She took his right hand and gently slid off the dirty glove. His hand, beneath, was nearly as dirty, but she didn't mind. She clasped his hand in both of hers.

The warm sensation of being healed by his ghost washed through him. But Banner floated nearby, watching, not doing a thing. Lethia was healing him?

Slowly his mind cleared a little. Yes, he had crashed his ship on Mars. They'd been trying to reach Earth. He'd had engine trouble, trying to rendezvous with the other Guardians before attacking the Dreadnaught, that was it. But he'd had to land at the Reef, and that was where Lethia found him.

It was a relief to straighten out events. Now he wasn't so confused. He looked into Lethia's blue-green eyes and smiled. "Whatever you're doing, it helps. Thanks."

"I'm fine-tuning your Light," she replied. "It's very erratic - super bright one minute, super dim the next. I've almost got it stabilized."

"Your Void power," he said in surprise. "You were so afraid of it."

"I've had training since then," she said. "I still don't like draining Light out of living things. But I can do so much more than that. I can help people. Before I came here, I was out at Hailey's Cross, fixing Taken injuries. I can actually purge Darkness from wounds."

"I wish you'd purge it from me," Ferral muttered. "The nightmares are so bad. I think if I could only sleep, I'd feel better. But I'm always ... always stuck on the Dreadnaught. And there's things in the dark."

He met her eyes. She gazed at him with compassion. "I can try," she said. "But healing this kind of thing takes time. I can't promise much dramatic difference right away. But you're definitely getting some square meals in you. And baths. And clean clothes."

After that, she instructed him to lie down in his bunk and let his Light find its own equilibrium. He obeyed, and watched as she heated his tiny stove and set to work cooking. Before long, the most delicious smells filled the shack.

"You can cook?" he said in amazement.

"I was a cook before I became a Guardian," Lethia replied. "Hearing that you've been living off ration packs offends me." She threw him a wink over her shoulder.

Before she fed him, she made him wash his face and hands multiple times before she was satisfied. Then she fed him the Awoken dish called sarcogi, which was a tender grilled steak over a bed of seasoned vegetables, with a traditional flatbread on the side. Ferral devoured it with the biggest appetite he'd had in months.

After Lethia had cleaned away the dishes, she demanded that he take a bath. This involved hauling water from the nearby spring, heating it on the stove, and filling a large bucket that was supposed to double as a bathtub, but Ferral had never used. Lethia went outside and left him to wash.

Ferral soaked blissfully in the tub for a long time before scrubbing himself off. "Banner, why did I never do this, myself?"

His ghost floated nearby, keeping an eye on him. "Why? Because you've been a complete zombie, that's why. Having a woman around to whip you into shape is a good thing. You might get well, now."

"I want to get well," Ferral said fervently, scrubbing his hair. "I forgot what it's like to think about ... other things."

As night fell, the air grew chilly and damp. Shivering, Ferral dried off and dressed in a clean set of clothes that Lethia had brought him. He stepped outside to find her waiting, leaning against the wall with her arms wrapped around her.

"You look better," she said, looking him up and down. "More like a Hunter and less like a crazed hermit."

"We'll see how I sleep," he replied. "Where are you staying?"

"I'll sleep on my ship," she said. "Come on, let's clean up."

Before leaving for the night, she again held his hands and adjusted his Light. A peaceful feeling settled over Ferral - peace and a bone-deep weariness.

After she went to her ship, and Ferral was in bed, he whispered, "Banner, how long have we been out here?"

His ghost settled himself on the pillow beside Ferral's head. "Six months and twelve days."

"Six months?" Ferral exclaimed. "How has it been that long? We just got here."

"Six months, Fer," Banner said quietly. "You've been so sick. I was frightened."

Ferral stroked his ghost. His mind felt as if he had awakened from a long nightmare - alert and, somehow, sore inside.

"You were scared of me," he blurted. "Because I hurt Niki. Remember?"

"I remember."

"Are you still?"

Banner touched his cheek with a healing beam, a soft touch like a caress. "Entering the Dreadnaught taught me what fear truly is."

Guilt hit Ferral a sudden blow. "You saw it all, too. And you never complained. Are you all right?"

Banner didn't answer, but his eye light dimmed. Ferral watched him.

"You're not all right, either," Ferral whispered. "Ban, I'm so sorry." He lifted the ghost and cuddled him under his chin.

"I watched those other ghosts and Guardians die," Banner whispered. "And I've watched you spiral. It's been horrible. I think ... I think Lethia needs to work on me, too. I may be responsible for your nightmares. Because I have the same ones you do."

"Not tonight, little light," Ferral told him. "Tonight, we're going to rest."

And while they still had nightmares, they were fewer than usual that night.

"I don't know how I'm going to do this, Niki," Lethia said.

She was curled in the tiny bunk on her ship, wrapped in blankets, holding Niki like a teddy bear. She hadn't stopped shivering since they returned.

"Do what?" Niki asked.

"Help Ferral," Lethia murmured. "He's so sick. I had to stabilize his Light twice. I've never had to do that with anyone, even with those kids with the Taken burns."

"I think you've helped him already," Niki said. "His eyes were so empty when we arrived. When we left, they had a little life in them."

"I fed him a meal and cleaned him up," Lethia said. "That's nothing. It won't fix what happened to him."

"It wasn't nothing," Niki argued. "To him, it was a big deal."

Lethia sighed. "I just ... feel like it's nothing."

"Pay attention to that feeling," Niki said. "You knew by instinct how to heal Banner and me, right? Do you have that same instinct with Ferral?"

"You and Banner are different," Lethia protested. "You're ghosts. You needed Light. But Ferral ... he needs everything. Light, and food, and ... and kindness. I'm not a kind person, Niki. Look how I treated you. And him. Just because he's a Guardian." Her voice broke. She had been so cruel in her ignorance. As a fully-trained Guardian, she saw how woefully misinformed she had been.

She looked down at Niki, under the blanket, and saw him gazing up at her. "You can do this," he told her softly. "Even if it takes all eighteen months."

"It'll take longer than that," Lethia said. "It'll be years. I just don't know if I can put up with healing the same person for years."

Niki giggled. "You'd have to marry him."

"Don't even joke," Lethia said. "I want to heal him, not marry him. I am not in the market for a mate. Besides, Guardians don't marry."

"Some do," Niki said. "But I was only teasing. All joking aside, I want to help."

Lethia hugged him a little closer. "You already are, Niki."

Lethia almost dreaded walking out to the little shack of ship parts the next morning. What would Ferral be like this morning? Had she pushed him too far the previous day?

As she arrived in the little clearing, she found Ferral sitting outside on a rock with a pail and a scrub brush, cleaning his dirty armor. She stopped a moment to observe him. His color was better - more blue than gray - and the Light swirled beneath his skin in healthy patterns. He was far different from the maniac who had greeted her with a drawn weapon the day before.

"Good morning!" she called, not wanting to startle him.

He did look up sharply, a little of that animal wariness returning to his eyes. Then he recognized her and smiled. "Good morning, Lethia."

She inquired about his sleep patterns, and he assured her that he had slept better than usual. Leaving him working on his armor, she went indoors to prepare breakfast.

To her surprise, Banner was inside, alone, floating in the middle of the room. He spun to face her as she entered, his segments turning uneasily.

"Hello, Banner," she said. "Is something wrong?"

The ghost looked at her in silence for a long moment. Then he blurted, "Could you help me?"

Lethia blinked. "Help you?"

"Yes." Banner looked down. "I ... need you to stabilize my Light, too."

Understanding flashed through Lethia's consciousness. A ghost and a Guardian were linked on a soul level. Banner had been through the Dreadnaught, too, and was probably just as damaged as Ferral.

She sat at the tiny table. "I'm going to have to hold you. I know it's taboo to touch another Guardian's ghost, but ..." She held out both hands.

Banner hesitated. Then he slowly flew forward and landed in her hands.

Niki appeared at once and watched closely.

Lethia closed her eyes. Banner's spark fluctuated wildly, the way Ferral's had - sometimes blindingly bright, sometimes so dim, it seemed dead. It reminded her of a candle on a breezy night. She focused on coaxing it to a steady flame, calming the flaring and guttering.

Slowly Banner's spark calmed. She couldn't feel him relax, as she did Ferral, but the restless movements of his eye-light slowed.

"How do you feel?" she asked.

"Better," Banner said. He floated into the air. "I think it's going to help Ferral, too." He glanced toward the door. "Well, did it?"

Ferral stood in the doorway, watching in silence as Lethia handled his ghost without permission. She hadn't even heard the door open.

"He asked me for help," she said, a magenta blush creeping across her cheeks.

Ferral frowned at Banner, who flew to him. They gazed at each other a long moment, communicating telepathically. Then Ferral said simply, "Ask me first, next time."

Lethia nodded. "I should have. I'm sorry."

"You keep doing that," Ferral said, sitting on the rumpled bed. "You stole his core to heal it, remember? What is it with you always messing with my ghost?"

"You mean resurrecting him and healing him?" Lethia said, not sure if she was embarrassed or angry. Probably both.

"Yeah, that." Ferral exchanged looks with Banner again. Then he sighed and lay down. "I'm so tired."

Lethia began getting out pans and ingredients. "If you're feeling up to it, would you want to tell me about what happened to you?"

"It's not a pretty story," Ferral said. "Guardians dying, Hive wizards killing their ghosts. It was like what we saw on Mars ... but on the scale of a factory."

Lethia reminded herself to be brave, that this was part of his recovery. "Tell me about it."

He did, for the rest of the day. He couldn't seem to remember it in order. He would mention one event, then jump back to an earlier point, or later on. But slowly, Lethia came to build a picture of the whole awful experience.