I Wanted to Stay. Wanted it More Than Anything.
The wet cough struck V like its predecessors—without preamble.
It struck amid curtains of steam, as warm water washed away the sweat and grime gathered on her skin, loosening her aching muscles—God, when was the last time she'd even sat down? Felt like years. Decades. Couldn't have been, though. She didn't have that sort of time left.
These wet coughs, growing more frequent each day, were a harsh reminder of the draining sands in her busted hourglass. They tore through her throat like shards of glass coated in acid. They shook her insides like a punch from Razor Hugh, Night City's three-time heavyweight champion, the walking, trash-talking brick house of flesh and chrome she'd pulled an upset victory over despite being farther apart in size and chrome than your average, greedy Corpo rat was to a Nomad.
Bracing her right hand against the shower wall, V slapped her left over her mouth as she coughed once, twice, three and four more times, face contorting in a painful grimace. She squeezed her eyes shut tighter and tighter with every renewed gasp for air cut short by a body-shaking cough.
She wheezed, rasped a wet, gurgling noise. Then lowered her wet palm, eyes creaking open to examine the damage through a blurry haze.
It was bad.
Thick globs of blood stained the cold metal of her chrome palm. Chunks of food or God-knows-what floated amid the crimson river, cradled in her violently trembling hand, while fat strings of blood resembling honey slowly dripped towards the shower floor.
A chrome hand?
V blinked, then squeezed her eyes shut tightly.
No. No, that wasn't right… Johnny's hand was chrome. She still had plenty of meat left. Hadn't lost an arm like him in a war. The Relic, it was acting up ag—
"Argghh!"
The sharp cry clawed apart her dry throat, it reverberated off the bathroom walls, pounding against her eardrums as the world itself seemed to shudder and vibrate violently. Her legs trembled, her torso quaked with a wheezing cough; V would've collapsed without her hand already braced against the wall. Still nearly did.
Sick to her stomach, the shower wall became infected by phantom pixels, as though reality itself and Cyberspace were merging into one. Searing white-hot pain drilled through her skull again, tearing another cry from the mercenary; her right knee buckled, or maybe she merely lost control of it, for it suddenly braced against the shower floor without conscious command. Without any sensations she could feel.
Her vision darkened. Her skull throbbed. It felt as though that fat bastard Dexter Deshawn had clawed his carcass out of the landfill, waltzed into her bathroom, and splattered her brain across the shower walls with another bullet.
Shit!
The curse echoed within her mind like it was shouted into a metal barrel, mixed by some untalented, never-was DJ into a strange, unpleasant harmonic melding her voice with the gruff rocker boy voice of Johnny Silverhand—the personality construct living in her head rent free thanks to Arasaka's goddamn Relic.
The Relic, that goddamn nightmare both responsible for saving her life and potentially ending it, was overriding her existence. Killing her soul to shove Johnny's into her body—something neither of them wanted.
If they didn't reach Mikoshi soon, she'd cease to be, and then Johnny Silverhand would prowl the streets of Night City once more. And then he'd have an even bigger score to settle with Arasaka.
Not yet. Geh!
V grit her teeth, shut her eyes against the intensifying flare set on burning a hole straight through her skull.
Not yet…
When V opened her eyes next she was sitting on the shower floor, warm water pouring over her lap. She blinked wearily.
When had she even sat down?
The world was still vibrating. Still infected by bits of Cyberspace, or so it appeared. Her stomach was swirling. Nuclear heat burned within her skull; she couldn't feel her right leg, couldn't move it.
Blood, she realized, hovering in a state of half-consciousness, was pouring from her nose, the trails of crimson dripping down her chest like vibrant red veins against the void black tattoo. V blinked again, trying to focus. Then grimaced at what she saw.
There were more of those godawful chunks.
Was this it?
The terrible thought made her aching chest tighten beneath a vice grip. Her eyes stung.
Was she going to die like this? Not in a blaze of glory. Not in a final hurrah to save her own life. Would she simply…fade away? Would she vanish, never even realizing she left, never stepping foot in Mikoshi?
That seemed to be her fate. Her worst fear turned reality in this never-ending nightmare.
V felt herself slipping further and further away. She felt herself, her consciousness, her ego, slip off the edge of a cliff where nothing waited. Nothing except a void that was absent and cold.
Suddenly where she began and Johnny ended was no longer clear. Their eyes glanced weakly at their left arm—it was chrome, the whole thing, just as it used to be. With enough effort they could bend the toes on their right foot.
Who was in the driver seat now?
Who were they?
Was V in control or Johnny Silverhand?
Shit, was it too late for Mikoshi?
Had V faded before he could save her sorry hide?
Fuck.
At that moment, that annoying ringtone V selected filtered through their ears like every other soulless copy-pasted alert, with an unnatural and downright sickening pleasant chime.
In their optics a small square appeared in the upper left quadrant of their vision. The caller ID: an image of a highway road leading towards the sun with the words Aldecaldos, Forever Free circling it.
Panam fucking Palmer.
The part that was Johnny was struck by exasperation and, as was his nature, anger. Every single instinct he had commanded him to curse V, that well-meaning gonk, for punching out early. Right before they managed to save her life.
Right when Panam called, the woman who set her panties on fire every time she smiled or glanced V's way. Not that he could blame the mercenary.
In women alone V had supreme taste, he could admit. Maybe it was his influence, who could say? He'd like to think he offered the mercenary something worthwhile, besides his obvious magnetic charm.
Should've been her here now. He should've been feeling that spark, that puppy-like giddiness V always felt when Panam was near. You know how kids are. He remembered being young and full of spunk—still had plenty of it left, frankly.
Yet instead of fighting like hell to speak to her, instead of tearing him out of the driver seat, V was punching her ticket and leaving the body to him. That goddamn gonk.
Had to push her luck, didn't she? Had to be a good soul at the end of her life, wasting her precious time helping every freak under Night City's sun, including him, when she should've been living for herself.
Way to go, V, he wanted to say. In the selfish quest for survival, you decided to be a selfless fool. Went out of your way to help your chooms instead of yourself. Did you forget what city you lived in? Think you'd get to fix everyone's problems, get the woman, and walk off into the sunset?
Not in Night City you don't.
The soulless chime pinged again. Panam's caller ID was like a hot brand at the base of their skull. It was a reminder of their quest for Mikoshi.
He should've pushed her harder to go sooner. Should've left his past in the past, should've never let her take so many of those pills; they'd finally found common ground, finally aligned at the oil field serving as his final resting place, and that's how it should've ended.
Instead he asked to have a few selfish moments of life, taking control of her body with the help of Misty's pills, progressing her symptoms to this point, all so he could say and do the things he'd wanted while alive. Tie up his last loose ends.
He'd forgotten what city they were in.
Now he was here, covered in V's blood. Maybe he needed a different epitaph on his headstone. It should've read,
Here lies Johnny Silverhand
He died as he lived: Always screwing over those closest to him.
Guess you could say it was the story of his life. The running theme, anyway.
Another ping of that incessant chime. The highway and sun taunted them, cursed him for his selfishness.
Somewhere deep within their being, however, Panam's caller ID burned like a sun instead of a brand. It glowed amid a void, and for the dying fragment that was V, slowly fading, it was a reminder of what she'd found on their quest for Mikoshi.
Friends. Family.
A chance at love?
What else was worth fighting for if not that?
Not yet…
Another white-hot bullet pierced their skull. Their lip curled in a pain-filled snarl.
They welcomed the pain. It gave them focus. Kept them awake, reminded them they were alive.
They grit their teeth and squeezed their eyes shut, annoying chime echoing in their ears, nearly on the verge of fading away.
I'm not…done yet…
With every scrap of willpower within their hemorrhaging body, the part that was V clawed their way from the abyss, inch by inch, drawn in from the darkness by the chime, drawn to the sun blazing above—one of the few lights she had left in her life.
At the precipice of light and eternal darkness, the part that was Johnny appeared before her, kneeling on the edge, reaching his chrome hand out. She took it without hesitation, grasping him at the forearm.
Johnny nodded once. With all of his strength he pulled her from the abyss, back into the light, all but throwing her into the driver seat once again.
V gasped for air, then coughed. She was suddenly aware of the warm and wet floor beneath her buttocks, the water pouring onto her lap, the blood flowing from her nose, and that incessant chime she'd been meaning to change for months now. She could feel her right leg again.
On purest instinct V answered the call.
The highway and sun flickered away. In its place, Panam appeared bearing a friendly smile on the video call.
"Panam," she greeted. Groaned, really.
"Hey V—"
Panam's eyes went wide. She sat up straighter, her soft and warm expression twisting in horror.
"Shit! V, you're bleeding! Where are you?"
Weakly, V brought a trembling hand to her nose. Fresh blood dripped down her fingers, into her palm, and down her wrist and forearm.
Yeah. She needed to plug this leak. Before she lost consciousness again.
A frail groan broke from her lips as she shifted off her buttocks onto her hands and knees. Her arms nearly gave out, her legs trembled beneath her weight. Faint, she paused a beat, shut her eyes. The whole world was spinning beneath her.
"V! Where are you?" Panam pressed.
"I'm…"
Where was she? It shouldn't have been such a difficult question.
Move, she commanded. The mercenary opened her eyes, lifted her head, and grunted feebly. Weakly. Like a vulnerable, dying beast.
She locked onto one of two pristine white towels hanging beside the door—that would work. About a mile between her and it, but she had to reach it. No other choice. So, V forced herself to crawl forward.
Keep…moving. And get the bleeding under control.
I'm not dead yet… C'mon. Wanna live, don't ya?
Her wet palm slapped against the floor. Then the other.
Gotta live… Wanna…
Wanna see her again…
Determined, centered like a monk by that single, selfish desire, her knees and hands carried her across the floor. Closer to the towel.
"Dammit, V. I need you to…"
Panam shut her eyes and took a breath. She was on the verge of panicking, a reaction she obviously decided wasn't helpful.
"V, talk to me," she said instead. "Just tell me where you are."
Finally crossing that hellish mile, the mercenary grasped the edges of the towel beneath a weak and trembling grip, then tugged it down. She turned over, rested her back against the cold wall and buttocks on the colder tile, tilting her head back and pinching her nose with the towel.
Gonna see her again…
Her optic glitched again. This time there was no pain, only a pain in the ass in the form of Johnny appearing from nowhere like a ghoul. He sat on the toilet adjacent to her, on the opposite side of the bathroom door, leaning forward on his knees, wearing that familiar shit-eating grin she'd come to know him for.
"Ladies and gentlemen, I give you the power of love," he remarked.
V felt her lips lift into a grin behind the towel.
"You were worried about me…" she replied weakly.
"Just your gonk imagination." He tapped the side of his head. His grin didn't leave his lips. "The result of all that blood you lost."
"Aw. You're…embarrassed," she teased.
"Don't kid yourself. 'Sides, I'd be more worried about Panam, if I were you."
"Huh?"
"You really are out of it. You're talking to me again."
"V, tell the construct to fuck off and focus," Panam commanded.
"Sure, blame me," Johnny drawled.
"Where are you?" the Nomad asked again.
"I'm…" V cleared her throat. "…not sure… Johnny?"
"Heywood, in The Glen. You were dead on your feet," he recounted, making a small gesture with his hands. "Been tying up loose ends for the last sixteen hours. Needed to rest and plan our next step."
V shut her eyes against the remnants of a splitting migraine, briefly
"Heywood… The Glen…" she repeated. "Send you…the deets. Now. But…I think I'll be—"
"I'm on my way."
"Panam…"
"Don't argue. And whatever you do, stay with me."
"I…" V swallowed roughly. "I can do that."
Panam smiled. "Good."
V couldn't help the upwards twitch playing at her lips. Just seeing her smile again, even when clouded in anxiousness and fear… The world steadied just a little bit more.
"How cute. Look at you two, like lovesick puppies covered in grease and gore," Johnny deadpanned.
Careful, she thought. Jealousy is a bad look on you.
"Not jealousy. Hell, might even say I'm proud of you. Never imagined a gonk like you could land a woman like Panam."
V shut her eyes, grinned.
Fuck off, Johnny.
"Trying to. But you don't seem to be in a rush to get rid of me anymore."
What can I say, think I'm fallin' for ya.
"Think you're gonna make me puke."
C'mon, Silverhand. Serenade me.
"Rather stick my cock in a blender."
"Heh!"
Their banter was familiar. Comfortable. Like Panam's smile, it made her forget for a moment about her swirling stomach and splitting skull.
"What are you laughing about?" Panam asked, a smile in her voice and on her lips.
"Ah, just Johnny," V replied aloud, voice still weak. "Got a way with words. Should've been a poet."
"Wanna hear a limerick?" Johnny asked, grinning like an idiot.
She shrugged.
Go for it.
"There was a woman named V, who was filled with glee, Panam, her knight, set her loins alight, that's why, kids, I set her free."
Wow. That was surprisingly romantic.
"Got another one. V, V, what a screaming banshee."
"Heh," the mercenary exhaled a weak laugh. All right. Two could play at this little game.
Got one for you, too, she thought.
"Can't wait to hear this."
Johnny, my Johnny, once brash and cold, his heart now gold, I call him brother, that man, my Johnny.
Silverhand cocked an eyebrow at her. "Tryin' to make me cry, V?"
Nah. Just couldn't figure out a rhyme for Alpha Centauri.
"Hmph. Better be careful," he grinned. "The lizard lords may be listening in."
"Hehe," she exhaled a weak chuckle.
"V?" Panam sounded concern.
V couldn't blame her. Looking at it from the Nomad's eyes, between the jet of blood gushing out of her nose before and forgetting to internalize her interactions with Johnny, even chuckling out of the blue because of him, probably looked like she was drifting into cyberpsychosis.
Yeah, she couldn't blame Panam for being concerned. Not after helping Regina with all those cyberpsychos. Not after learning how each and every single one progressively lost themselves.
Shifting against the wall, V shut her eyes, swallowed roughly. "Sorry. I'm all right," she tried to sound reassuring. "Just trading limericks with Johnny."
The Nomad blinked. She shifted her head to the side, a hint of a smile tugging at her lips.
"Limericks? Really, V?"
"What can I say. He's growing on me."
"Like a tumor. Literally," Johnny deadpanned. Then he vanished.
"Should turn around," V said to Panam. "Gonna be all right—"
"V. Shut up."
"Heh," she exhaled another weak but sincere chuckle. "Yes ma'am."
She didn't have the strength to add a salute. Would've otherwise. If she wasn't woozy and weak, would've given the Nomad a crisp salute like a soldier fresh out of bootcamp. Would've grinned like a fool, too, as though Jackie had sauntered into the bathroom, took in her appearance, and marched over to her side to help, all while smiling that classic, Jackie smile. The one that made everything feel like it'd be all right.
"Christ, Chica," he would've said. "Look at you! Can't leave you alone for five minutes. C'mon, let's get you cleaned up, eh? Be good as new soon enough, you'll see."
V's eyes stung again. God, she missed him.
She would've done the salute and the grin in a heartbeat if holding the towel up didn't leave her quaking. Anything to get Panam to smile. To roll her eyes and chide her with a laugh in her voice.
Anything for a chance to see the sun shine through what seemed to be a long march beneath grey skies to the gallows.
For a long, silent moment V merely looked at Panam. She listened to her heartbeat, her pulse vivid in the silence, and slightly elevated.
The sun, yeah, that's what Panam had become. She was a light at the end of a pitch black tunnel, a hope she didn't dare voice, a gravitational force pulling her far from the cold grips of Night City towards something else. Something new. Something warm.
The Nomad noticed her staring.
"Something on your mind, V?" she asked, a hint of flirtation in her voice.
"You."
"Mhm. Not Silverhand this time?"
"Nope. Just you. Only you."
"Charmer," Panam smiled. "Anything I'd like to hear?"
"Just thinkin' of…how much I 'ppreciate you."
"O- oh! You're, uh, you're being serious."
"Wouldn't lie to you about something like this."
"Well, um… Good." V snorted. Panam glowered at her. "Shut up, damn you. You know I'm awful at this."
"Mmhm."
"V, I swear, if you don't wipe that stupid, smug grin off your face…"
"How do you know if I'm grinning or not? The towel's covering my face," she teased.
"Because I know you. And I can hear it in your voice!"
"You know, you're pretty adorable when you're flustered."
The glower would've sent Saul retreating had he seen it. V did her best to keep the towel over her nose and mouth, if only to hide the stupid, smug grin splitting her lips. It didn't hide her snort, unfortunately, which she tried to cover up afterwards by clearing her throat.
"Oh no, go ahead. Laugh it up," Panam coaxed, frustrated. "I'm glad you're enjoying yourself. I'm sure it's hilarious to watch me get tongue tied and stumble like a fool."
Her heartbeat jumped into her skull, pounding harshly, blurring her vision again. Her stomach gurgled noisily. Trying to remain calm and in control, V shut her eyes and focused on her breathing.
"V? Come on, stay with me."
"Mm," she hummed. "I am."
"You need to keep your eyes open."
V took in another long, calm inhale. Then exhaled. As she did, she opened her eyes. Panam was visibly anxious.
She's worried, thought the mercenary. You damn gonk. Probably should've thought about that before teasing her like nothing's going on.
"Mean a lot to me, you know," she said tenderly.
"V…" Panam sighed. "You mean a lot to me, too. Just…keep talking to me, all right?"
"Doing my best."
"I know."
"Only 'cause of you I'm here now. Perfect timing, really." And it was true. About today, as well as all the other days that had followed since they met.
"Yeah? Well, I'm glad I called when I did. But let's not test our luck a second time, all right?"
You're right, she thought, we shouldn't test our luck.
Johnny, need to talk.
At her call, Johnny glitched into reality. Now he was lying on the bathroom floor in front of her, hands clasped behind his head, eyes locked onto the ceiling, and left leg bent so his foot was on the floor, tapping to the beat of one of his songs. Probably.
"Thought you only had a mind for Panam," he drawled.
Bein' serious. Need to talk 'bout Mikoshi.
Johnny hummed lowly. "All right. Talk. Not still thinkin' 'bout talkin' to Arasaka, are you?"
No.
She fought to keep her head still, to keep from shaking it as instinct guided her to do. Didn't want to tip Panam off to their conversation.
You were right. Can't trust Hanako. They prolly want to stuff us both in soul prison.
"Finally," Johnny sighed, half in exasperation at the reminder of their tired old argument, half in relief that it was finally over. "Thought I'd never get it through your thick skull," he added, sitting up with a grunt.
Runnin' out of time, she thought. Can't waste anymore being forced to play Arasaka's puppet.
" 'Bout time you realized that. Better late than never," he nodded once in appreciation, resting his chrome arm on his bent knee. "All we gotta do then is talk to Rogue. After you rest. Know you won't like it, but we won't make it to Mikoshi if you're dead on your feet."
He was right: She didn't like it. But she knew he was right. In her current condition, they wouldn't make it far. Definitely not with what she had planned.
I know. But we're not involving Rogue. Not involving anyone.
"Come again?"
Just gonna be you, me, and Arasaka Tower. No one else.
"Huh, almost sounds like a Eurodyne lyric," Silverhand mused. "What brought this on all of a sudden?"
It isn't all of a sudden. Been givin' it a lot of thought, actually. This moment just made it clear. Real. Prolly gonna laugh, but I…I think I finally figured out why I'm fightin'.
"You're wrong," Johnny shook his head, looking her straight in the eyes. "Not gonna laugh at all. So, do you have a plan?"
Plan was a liberal use of the word. But it was better than nothing.
Based on everything we've learned, she thought, Mikoshi is on the lower levels. So, we grab our iron, march through the front doors, and cut down everyone between us and the elevator. Make our own path through the lower levels.
"Huh, ballsy," he noted with appreciation. "And downright suicidal."
I know, she admitted. But I don't… I can't choose which of my friends are gonna die for me. I already lost Jackie. If I asked Panam and she or any of the others died…is my life worth all of that sacrifice?
"Mm. I get it," Johnny nodded again. He smiled wryly. "Good news is you've got this choom who's already dead."
Johnny…
"Be honored to join you on this wild suicide run."
V squeezed her eyes shut tightly for a moment, overcome by the touching and grim gut punch. 'Cause they both knew the odds. Yet, even still, he was with her. Like he'd always been since this whole journey began.
Honors mine, she thought sincerely.
Here, at the end of the road, where their next step would either land them at the heart of Mikoshi or abandoned in another landfill for scavengers, his solidarity to follow her, alone, straight into the depths of hell, it meant everything.
If I gotta die, V thought, gonna go to my grave gun in hand and on fire, without dragging anyone else with me. You know?
"You just figured out what it takes to become a legend in this city," Johnny nodded. "As soon as you rest, we'll mobilize. And go fucking Nova."
Right.
Once more Johnny vanished.
The plan was set, then. What little of a plan it was. A final, wild suicide run, a chance at living without the blood of her friends on her hands.
Sounded like a hell of a story. She planned to live to tell it, and to hear Panam curse her a hundred different ways.
Internally, she grimaced. Being on the opposing side of Panam's powerful lungs wouldn't be fun. But there was no way around it. Panam was gonna be pissed when she found it. Even more pissed if she didn't make it through.
Guess I gotta live then.
V removed the towel from her nose, sniffed, and waited for a beat. No blood flowed. Seemed she'd finally managed to plug the leak. Luckily. Taking a breath, the mercenary set the towel aside and, with a grunt, began to shift in order to rise.
"V, what are you doing?" Panam asked.
"Nose stopped bleeding. Gonna…"
On her knees, her words trailed off amid a black void overcoming her vision.
You're all right, the mercenary commanded. C'mon. Breathe, go slowly. You'll be all right.
She inhaled a long breath and waited for the sensation to fade.
"Gonna wash this blood off," she finished when the shadows filtered away.
"V, just sit. I'll be there in five minutes. Ten, if this light doesn't decide to change."
"Huh, just enough time to get clean and dressed for company."
"You stubborn ass."
"Heh," she exhaled a chuckle. "Maybe you rubbed off on me."
"Bullshit."
V made it to her feet. She stumbled once, but caught herself on the wall. Panam cursed. Then cursed more colorfully at the mercenary for her stubbornness, who could only snort.
Using the wall for support, V crossed the mile she crawled in a few short, careful steps. She washed the blood from her body, then slowly walked back to the towel bar, pulling the clean spare.
Drying was tedious. Difficult. Yet she managed.
At the bathroom counter she moisturized her skin, then pulled on her Samurai tank top and the white gym shorts she set out prior for a relaxing evening.
Yeah, relaxing. So much for that.
V glanced at the mirror, and grimaced.
God, she was pale. How much blood had she lost?
Just focus on getting downstairs, she pushed the worrisome thought aside. Panam's almost here. Just get downstairs.
Staggering out of the bathroom, the cold metal floor pricked the soles of her feet as she rounded the bed and arrived at the stairs. The mercenary paused, hesitating. If the crawl across the bathroom floor was a mile, standing here was like being asked to climb down the edge of a cliff. Without equipment.
Exhaling a long suffering breath, she gripped the railing and began the slow descent. One step at a time. By the time she made it to the floor she was leaning heavily into the railing, her heart was pounding, and she could taste bile burning at the back of her throat.
But she made it to the bottom, even did it without falling flat on her face. It was an achievement worth celebrating. Some other day.
V was out of breath and teetering like a drunk when she reached the couch, and that's when her stubbornness died. Her skin was cold and clammy. Her vision darkening.
With no strength left she collapsed onto the cushions and sank into them, pressing a hand to her sweaty forehead as she fought to stay conscious.
"I'm almost there," Panam promised.
Johnny suddenly glitched into existence. He sat on the coffee table, plucking the strings of an electric guitar.
"Know you're on the verge of puking," he said, "but should grant her access before you spill your guts all over yourself. Otherwise that stiff necktie at the front desk will try turning her away. Would get messy, knowing Panam's state of mind. Don't want this romantic rendezvous stifled by the police."
"Mm."
He was right. She did feel ready to puke.
Breathing in and exhaling deeply, she forced her sweaty body to calm down, then set about granting Panam permission to enter, which took a few moments.
"Sending you…access codes," she said, the words hard to form. "Should just be able to walk in now. Without fighting security."
"Guess they should count themselves lucky." Panam smirked. It was quite charming. "I just finished parking."
"Heh. Perfect timing."
"V." She flicked her eyes to her brother-in-arms. "Gonna leave you two alone. As best I can anyway."
What? Not gonna serenade us, Johnny Guitar? she internalized.
"No." He shook his head, expression serious. "Chance we may not come back. You gave me control to tie up my loose ends. Time for you to tie yours. Understand?"
He gave her a long, knowing look. She dipped her chin slightly.
Yeah. And thanks.
"Make the most of it, V. Don't leave anything unsaid, like I did."
He strummed a familiar set of chords; V recognized them immediately, those of Samurai's Never Fade Away. Yet they were slower. More haunting, even, and yet somehow…gentler.
A cheeky grin formed on Johnny's lips. "It's a thing of beauty, I know. May your love never fade away."
Ugh. V feigned disgust, but her upturned lips betrayed her. Think I'm gonna barf.
"Heh." The elevator dinged and the doors slid open. "Have fun, kids."
Then he vanished.
Panam hurried out of the elevator, disconnecting their call as she did. When they met gazes V lifted her hand off her forehead in a weak wave.
"Hey. Would've made us a few drinks if I knew you were stopping by," she added with a hint of cheek.
Panam rolled her eyes, rounding the end of the couch. "Of course you'd still be a smart ass even while looking half dead."
"Told you. I'll be all right."
"All right?" Panam exhaled a heated laugh. She wasn't smiling when she stopped beside the seated mercenary. "V, you didn't even know where you were. You lost who knows how much blood. You're pale and you've lost weight since I last saw you."
Had she lost weight? She'd been so focused on tracking leads, running around town tying up loose ends…
"Panam—"
"You're not all right dammit! You were bleeding all over the place," Panam cut her off, making an absent and impassioned gesture at the apartment.
Overwhelmed by frustration and fear, the Nomad shut her eyes, pressed a hand to her forehead. Then cursed.
"Dammit. Fuck! I should've called sooner. I should've…"
Lowering her hand, Panam looked at her, and V felt every bit of her mortality in her softening gaze. She saw every bit of how tragic she was, and how tragic her memory would be if all failed. And dammit, did it sting.
"It's gotten worse," Panam stated. And the truth of that stung, too "In your condition I could tear you off that couch and drag you off to god-knows-where, and you'd be too weak to stop me."
"Eh, you could've done that before," V tried to brush it aside.
"Bullshit. The whole city knows you beat Razor Hugh. He was, what? Four times your size?"
"Prolly five or six of me, with top-of-the-line implants," V considered softly. Then shrugged. "Lucky for me I had Vik in my corner. Knew he had a weak spot, told me how to utilize it. Otherwise might not have beaten 'im."
"That doesn't change—"
"Panam."
Leaning forward, V reached out and curled her pointer and middle finger around Panam's. She looked the Nomad in the eyes.
"It's all right. I'll be all right."
"What about the next time?" Panam asked anxiously. "What if no one calls? What if you're in the middle of a firefight and this happens again? What then?"
"There won't be a next time."
"You can't promise that."
V winced. Another stinging truth. She couldn't promise that, not really. It was a growing fear in the back of her mind, truth be told.
Until they reached Mikoshi, another incident could happen at any moment, and her bloody noses were growing more frequent. This one was just the worst of the most recent.
Mikoshi is the only way this gets fixed. It's the only way I can live. It's my only chance to see you again. To stay. Just a bit longer.
"Tomorrow," she said suddenly.
Panam blinked and recoiled slightly. "What?"
"Tomorrow I'll tie up my final lead," V explained. "All goes well, this'll be the last time. Be good as new. Promise."
Panam wanted to believe her. God, they both wanted to believe it, didn't they? More than anything they wanted to believe this incident would be the last time, that somehow, someway, she'd be able to walk away good as new and give this city the finger for all it had tried to take from her. Then start again.
Nothing was that simple, though. Not in Night City. They both knew that. And the other side of the coin had to be addressed.
"And if it doesn't?" Panam asked hesitantly.
V's fingers tightened. She looked away, blinking and breathing to stay calm as her emotions swelled. To hide her tragic and pathetic vulnerability as best she could.
"…If it's possible," she began after a heavy silence, "I'd like to spend my final days with you."
"V…"
"I'm almost out of time, Panam."
The admission came in a trembling voice. It struck them both with the same harshness of one of Razor's punches. She felt Panam's fingers grip hers a little tighter, as if that might buy them a little more time.
V hated it. She hated her tragic vulnerability, she hated how it was hurting the people around her. She hated that she was dying. She hated her trembling voice for revealing her vulnerability and fear, she hated how real it was. But her strength to hide it was waning. She'd been running for so long, now…she was just tired.
"God knows I've fought to get my life back," the mercenary said. "But…if this falls through, I've got nowhere else to turn. So…if you'd have me, even for a little while… I know its selfish. I shouldn't—"
"Shut up, V."
She obeyed. She watched Panam shut her eyes, gathering herself, it seemed. Then the Nomad exhaled a long breath.
"You don't have to ask," Panam said softly. "You're already apart of our family. Saul, Mitch—everyone, even the kids, they ask me about you all the time. Some are a bit nosier than they should be," she added with a small chuckle. "But that's family for you. They all want to know when you'll be back. We're waiting for you, you know?"
V squeezed her eyes shut. It was almost too much to bear.
"Besides," Panam said, "I'm the one who asked you to stay, remember? Offer still stands. Always will. You're one of us, whether you like it or not," she added with a smile.
Her smile was both the sun warming her skin and lighting her way, and a terrible knife twisting inside her heart. Because she knew the odds.
"Wanted to join you back then," V admitted, fighting with everything she had to hold herself together. "Still do. The Aldecaldos, you—it's everything I'm fighting to keep ahold of now."
Panam's fingers curled around V's a little more warmly. A little more gently.
"Tomorrow then?"
"Yeah. Tomorrow."
It all ended tomorrow. One way or another.
"No matter how this lead goes, if you'd have me—"
"Stop saying if."
"All right."
"If…" Panam paused a beat, glanced away, then exhaled. "If the construct takes over…"
"Let Johnny go free," V said without hesitation. "Let him live however he wants. It'll be his body then. I'll be… I'll be gone."
"…Fuck," Panam looked away. "I hate that I even asked."
"It's fine."
"It's not fine."
Kneeling beside the couch, the Nomad exhaled a deep, weary breath through her nostrils. When she spoke again her voice was softer, woven with the crushing powerlessness they both felt.
"It's not even close to fine," she said. "You're out here fighting for your life, slowly losing yourself little by little to this goddamn construct…and there's not a damn thing I can do to help. I've tried to find leads. Answers. Something that might cure you or at least buy us more time, but…"
V said nothing. She rubbed her thumb along the back of Panam's hand.
"Been terrified lately," she said after a moment.
Panam met her eyes with a gentle gaze. "Of dying?" she asked.
The mercenary hesitated, briefly. Then swallowed down her nerves, tasting bitter from shame as she prepared to expose another vulnerability. She had to, though. There wasn't time to leave anything unsaid.
It was now or never.
"All my life," she began, "I had nothing to lose. I was just another street rat out of Heywood who wanted to be a legend. Just wanted to be remembered. Wanted my life to mean something, you know? Funny thing is," she exhaled a humorless laugh, swallowed roughly, "here, when I'm staring down a loaded gun, I've finally found everything I was looking for—Family, friends…and a foolish feeling. It's got me shakin' even now, thinkin' I might lose it all."
"…A foolish feeling, huh?" the Nomad asked.
"Is it?" V wanted to know, her voice nearly a whisper, weak and weary.
"Maybe."
Panam rose, then sat on the edge of the couch. She smiled as she intertwined their fingers.
"Lucky for you, we're both fools."
V smiled faintly. "Sure you want to be a fool? I may be a fading ghost—a bad memory you'll wish you never had."
"Are you seriously trying to shake me off at the last moment?"
"Nah," she shook her head. "Just…feeling like a parasite, is all. Feels like I'm eating away at your time. You deserve better than that."
"V," Panam was looking straight into her eyes, "I wouldn't trade a minute we've shared together for all the eddies in the world."
V's throat tightened. Her eyes stung. The last of her strength crumbled beneath those warm, sincere words.
"I wanted…I wanted to stay," she said, voice wavering. "Wanted it more than anything."
"I know."
Panam's hand slipped free. She then brought it to V's cheek, caressing her knuckles down her jawline, beneath her chin, cupping her opposite cheek.
V exhaled a shuddering breath. Gooseflesh flourished across her skin.
You should go, she wanted to say. Hit the road and get as far away from me as possible. Put me in your rear view and never look back. Just…Just go. Go look after your family. Forget I ever existed. It'll be easier that way.
It was in Panam's best interests to turn away now. To leave. Chances were their suicide run tomorrow would live up to its name. It would be cleaner if they went their separate ways now. At this point…she was just a ghost. A pleasant dream.
Something Panam needed to wake up from.
Swallowing roughly, she shut her eyes and…
The words didn't form. They caught in her throat, snagging on the bloody hooks of long-shot hopes and foolish dreams.
I know its selfish, V thought, opening her eyes only slightly. Just enough to look down and away from the Nomad. I know I should push you away. You deserve better than…a dead woman walking. But I…
V gently curled her fingers around Panam's wrist, blinked and felt warm tears glide down her cheeks.
I can't. I can't push you away. How could I? This, you and I, is the only real thing I have.
It's everything I'm fighting for.
So she held on. Selfishly. Timidly. She held on. It was all she could do.
Turning her head slightly, V pressed a gentle kiss against Panam's warm palm. She then shut her eyes and leaned deeper into the Nomad's hand, savoring the intimate and tender gesture, anchoring herself to it, to the thumb caressing her cheek, silently wishing there'd been more of these soft, quiet moments together. Hopeful—hoping—for a chance they'd have more.
Soft lips pressed against hers. Tender, but brief. Then, with her eyes still shut, the mercenary felt Panam's forehead gently rest against hers, and for a few moments, in-between tender and vulnerable gazes and shut eyes, they simply breathed.
They collapsed their walls, they lowered their guards, and in doing so they freed themselves to just be. Here. Together. No construct. No responsibilities. No bloody noses or arguments. No troubled pasts. No grim futures.
The Nomad's hands glided up her shoulders, her neck, and behind her head, threading gently into her fiery tresses.
V inhaled calmly, though it was difficult with the way her heart was beating. She opened her eyes but found Panam's were shut.
Timidly, still feeling weak, she rested her hand on the Nomad's thigh and, with the touch of a feather, began to slowly draw her palm over the fabric of her jeans, at times tracing just her fingertips along her leg.
Again their lips met. This kiss was longer, full of longing, yearning for more. More of this connection. More time for this foolish feeling to blossom. More chances to share in quiet, private moments like these without other business drawing them apart, as it always seemed to do.
As their kiss ended they brought their foreheads together again, chests rising and falling with calm breaths. Neither were in a hurry. Not now. Tomorrow was still far away.
Panam leaned away first, shrugging her jacket off onto the floor.
Once free of the extra layer she first lay a hand upon V's bare shin, then tenderly glided her warm palm up and along her bent knee, down her bare thigh.
V inhaled a sharp breath as Panam's hand, now on the inside of her thigh, began to ascend her leg again, this time with her nails painlessly drawing along her skin.
A pleasant shiver shot through her body, she squirmed ever so slightly. Panam noticed. Her eyes flickered with triumph and confidence, her lips split in a grin, and V couldn't help but try to hide a smile behind her hand.
Dammit, Johnny was right. How the hell did a street rat like her ever get so lucky?
Emboldened, the Nomad gently split V's legs apart before leaning in so there noses nearly touched, hands moving to the mercenary's hips; she gave them a gentle pull towards her open lap, silently asking for permission instead of cooperation.
In response, V gently nudged her nose with her own. Panam's smile, warm as the desert sands, joined with a soft giggle, was enough to forget her mortality. It grounded her in the moment, flushed out all the viruses plaguing her systems and left only relief, warmth, and excitement she'd only felt in a handful of occasions since waking up in the landfill. And most of those occasions involved the Nomad in some way.
Panam kissed her again. Then guided V into her lap. Every act was gentle, conscious of her weakened condition. It was a side of the fiery and impulsive Nomad rare to see, especially when she and Saul were at each other's throats.
They met palm to palm amidst slow kisses. Fingers entwining, V felt herself lean further into Panam, trying to close a distance that didn't exist. Hoping, longing, for this moment to never end, for these feelings to never fade away. Longing to live. To stay as long as she could. Here. With her.
She let these feelings flow through her. Her longing, her hopes, even her fears and grief, she put them into every kiss. To say the things she couldn't say, didn't know how to say, or lacked the courage to give voice to.
And for all she gave, Panam reciprocated. Here, in a rare moment of privacy, amidst slow, tender kisses, they shared those vulnerable pieces of themselves. In every squeeze of their hands, every kiss, in longing stares and gentle breaths as they rested forehead to forehead, they said all they could without saying a word.
Beyond the couch, beyond their sphere of awareness, rain began to patter on the big picture windows.
V ran her hands slowly along the Nomad's shoulders, tracing lightly up her neck, bringing their lips together once more in a deep kiss. Panam's hands slipped beneath her tank top, first gliding up her bare back, then, gently, without hurrying or causing pain, she drew her nails down it.
Another pleasant shiver raced down her spine. Warmth pulsed in her core.
Soon enough her back was against the cushions, Panam leaning over her. The Nomad's lips roamed down her neck, along the expanse of skin laid bare by the tank top. V lay beneath her, trying to control her breathing while enthralled by arousal, enthralled by kisses that seemed to send electricity shooting through her skin.
Guiding the tank top off her abdomen, Panam began to press soft pecks against the mercenary's exposed stomach, brushing her lips along her skin in-between kisses.
When the Nomad's hand glided up the inside of her thigh, V inhaled another sharp breath, smiled, then chuckled warmly, lowly, deep in her chest. She felt Panam smile against her abdomen.
Again she hooked her arms behind the mercenary's back. Again, gently, she lifted V into her lap, and then rose off the couch while securing her.
V hummed a throaty laugh, held on, and locked her legs around the Nomad as she moved them from the couch, up the stairs, and finally to the bed, where the cold sheets greeted her back.
The Nomad lay with her, one leg between V's, fingertips tracing up and down her bare thigh. It rose higher on one pass, pinching her buttocks playfully, coercing a light squeak and grin from the mercenary, who leaned in and kissed Panam while smiling.
Panam's hand remained there. She raised her thigh, resting between the mercenary's legs, higher as passion and arousal intermingled and enflamed, and soon she began to guide V's hips in a light, slow rocking motion, coercing breathless gasps here and there between low hums of pleasure.
Amid ardent kisses and intimate acts they would forget about tomorrow. They would exist only in the moment, lost in each other, in their tender gazes, in affectionate smiles, in aroused giggles and gasps, and a foolish feeling they never named out loud. But they felt it, they felt it deep in the soul this city tried to rip out of them.
And in that moment they were happy.
They were free.
"Welcome to Arasaka Tower," the cheerful automated voice greeted. "Weapons and other hazardous materials are not allowed on the premises. We wish you a pleasant day!"
She approached the security gate with purpose driven strides. With a tactical vest on, a satchel of ammo strung over her shoulder, the mercenary marched forward equipped for a war; Mox, a gift from Judy Alvarez, a dear friend, was slung over her back; Johnny's iron, a Malorian Arms 3516, was secured in a shoulder holster beneath her left arm; Stinger, Scorpion's trusted knife, gifted to her by Mitch, was strapped to her leg; finally, Fenrir, her trusted submachine gun, capable of belching thermal rounds, hung around her neck, her hands already clutched around its grip and fore grip.
Around her neck she wore Johnny's dog tags and Dex's bullet pendent—the latter had tried to take her life, the former was the guy who saved it.
Today was the day. Today it all ended, one way or another.
V spotted three Arasaka guards in the lobby; two were on the other end of the lobby, by the reception desks, while the third was nearest to the security gate. She was already breaching the systems of the farthest two when the closest spotted her.
He sensed the threat immediately. Hard not to, she bet, given her equipment and the grim resolve she exuded. His hand reached for his sidearm.
"Ma'am," he warned, less to her and more to alert his comrades. He knew she wouldn't turn back. And he was right.
She was going all-in.
Johnny glitched into reality inside the lobby. He strutted forward, pretending to throw a pair of dice as he said,
"Time to party like it's 2023."
V said nothing. Fenrir rose quickly as she stepped through the red barrier, quicker than the guard could pull his pistol free of its holster.
The loud rapport of Fenrir reverberated through the lobby in a controlled burst. The guard never stood a chance. Thermal rounds shredded through his security uniform. Flecks of blood sprayed through the air. Then he fell to the floor, never to rise again.
The other two guards, startled, spun to face her, guns flashing into hands. Just then the grenades on their belts went live; her hack had activated just in time.
Even at a distance she saw their eyes widen. Both men reached for their belts, two more bursts kept them from saving themselves.
The explosions nearly drowned out their screams. An alarm blared over the speakers and that sickening cheerful automated voice was ordering an evacuation.
V gripped Fenrir tightly. Her resolve didn't falter. Instead, her strides became longer, quicker, moving her from a fast walk into a run.
This was it. No way to go but straight ahead. Straight to freedom.
Back to Panam.
Let's go fuckin' Nova.
Disclaimer: I do not own Cyberpunk 2077, nor do I make any profit off of the writing of this fan fiction. Cyberpunk 2077 is developed and published by CD Project Red, and the Cyberpunk universe it is based upon was written by Mike Pondsmith and is published by R. Talsorian Games. All copyrights belong to their respective owners. This is merely a fan creation.
A/N: Hope you enjoyed this fic!