Brick paced back and forth across the tarmac, backlit by the glow of the flaming buzzards. Lilith listened while he talked.

"He's always like that," Brick said. "He never gets mad. Just acts like a stuck-up little queen. And you know what really pisses me off?"

"What?" Lilith asked.

"He was right. I was bein a idiot. It ain't his fault about Kindle, it's mine. That's why I had to get the stupid necklace. I gotta..." Brick didn't know what he meant to say. Torture himself? "Remember," he finished.

"Brick," Lilith said, catching him with one pale hand as he paced by. She turned him around to face her and looked solemnly into his eyes. "It wasn't your fault."

"You sound like Rocko."

"Good. I agree with him. You're a good person, Brick. That's what I was trying to tell you over the ECHO. I shouldn't have let you go without saying something. Roland is such an asshole sometimes, and I just let him yell at you, so I guess I'm an asshole too. Shep had it coming. What you did to him, that doesn't make you a bandit. It makes you human."

"Hate to break it to ya, Lil, but I am a bandit. I'm a bandit king."

"Oh. Well..." Lilith said. She hugged him unexpectedly, tilting her head back to place a tiny peck of a kiss against the underside of his chin. "I miss the shit out of you. Roland, too, although he'll never admit it. But I understand if you wanna stay here. Don't tell anyone, but sometimes...sometimes, I want to leave, too. You can hit hyperion where it hurts. You dont have follow any rules. And now you've got a big, expendable army, not to mention, an extremely cute boyfriend.

Brick had been grinning, but now his smile faltered. "Donno if I got a boyfriend anymore. I really fucked up."

"He'll cool off. I think he loves you."

"Nah," Brick said, shaking his head. "He's not like that."

Lilith shrugged. "Everybody falls in love."

Brick thought, unexpectedly, of Mordecai, and a pain tugged at his chest- a deep ache, like a dying tooth.

"Did I mess up, comin out here? Should I go back?" he asked.

"I can't tell you that. All I can say is, you're always welcome in Sanctuary."

"But not in the Raiders," Brick said. It wasn't a question. Lilith hesitated, then nodded.

Brick grunted. "Doesn't matter. I gotta stay. I'm the king.

"I figured. And, listen...it won't be so bad. Make up with your boyfriend, murder some Hyperion bastards, and you'll feel better."

"Yeah. Thanks, by the way. For saving my ass. You phased here?"

"Yep. I've never been here before, so I just thought about you. I thought, I have to be with Brick, right next to him. But even with a shit ton of eridium, I thought I wasn't going to make it."

"Eridium? What're you doin with that stuff?"

"It boosts the siren abilities. Makes my powers about a hundred times more awesome, but it can't do everything. I'm just glad it worked."

"Me too," Brick said, and forced a smile. He didn't like that Lilith was using eridium, didn't trust the stuff, but he wasn't about to poke his nose in her business.

"I should go," Lilith said. "Do you need a kit for your nose?"

"I'll just digistruct one," he said.

"I'll visit when I can." They hugged again, Brick wincing where she touched his blistered skin. Now that the heat of battle had cooled and adrenaline drained away, he hurt like hell. His nose, cheeks, forehead, back and legs...it would have been easier to say what didn't hurt.

She stepped back. "Okay. Here I go," she said.

She shimmered like a heat mirage, just for an instant, and then was gone. It was the same way she entered phasewalk. She might have been there still, just on a different plane of existence—on the curve, Brick thought again, not sure where he'd gleaned the term—but he knew she wasn't. She'd jumped much further, all the way back to Sanctuary.

On his way downstairs, Brick ran into a bandit. He put him in a headlock and told him that Omar was dead, and that he was the new king, Brick. Brick and Rocko. Spread the word. He released the bandit—his subject—and nodded him off, watching him scamper away with a pleased chuckle.

"Rocko! Where'd you go?" Brick grumbled. He cupped his hands around his mouth. "ROCKO!"

"I'm here," Rocko's voice came from nearby, in the stairwell between the first and second floors. Brick followed it to the source, but Rocko wasn't there.

"Where?"

"Come down," he said. Brick stomped downstairs, but still didn't see him. "Under the stairs," Rocko added.

Brick edged beside the stairs, a tight squeeze, and slipped underneath. He found the doorway immediately. The corroded metal door sat ajar on it's hinges, spilling light into the dim space. Brick opened the door enough to sidle into the room.

It was a small chamber with a low ceiling, so he had to duck. Rocko lay curled up on a mattress which was pushed against the wall, much larger than the cot he'd been sleeping on in Sanctuary. A tangle of blankets and pillows had been kicked to the end of the bed. Orange crates were heaped against another well, stacked with a clutter of books and DVDs, and a small television sat on another, turned off.

"It's exactly the same," Rocko said. "I don't think they ever found this place."

"I don't think the big one could'a fit," Brick said, grinning. Rocko didn't laugh. Tentatively, Brick crossed the room and sat on the edge of the bed, perched behind Rocko's back. He laid a hand on his shoulder. "Sorry about before."

Rocko responded with a haughty little sniff. Brick frowned, but the shoulder under his hand hitched, and Brick realized it hadn't been a haughty sniff at all. Rocko was crying. He'd never seen him cry before, not even after Kindle died.

"Are you okay?" he asked. Rocko nodded. "You sure?"

Rocko paused, then shook his head. Brick shifted to lie down beside the younger man and pulled him into his arms. "It's not your fault. I shouldn't have said nothin like that. I'm sorry."

Rocko turned over to face Brick and sighed against his chest. "Don't have to humble yourself to me. I ain't your judge or your king," he mumbled, quoting the song he'd started months ago, when he'd forced his way into Brick's cell. I ain't no porcupine...

And, for a blue-eyed miracle, Brick remembered the next line. "Baby, you know you ain't no queen amoeba."

Rocko did laugh, then, hooting against Brick's chest until tears of laughter replaced the others. It took awhile for him to catch his breath. "That's...that's not right. It's...Oh, hell. What are you doing to me?"

"I was tryin to make you feel better," Brick grunted. His face, already warmed by the scratches and the ache of his broken nose, flushed hotly. "Geez. I know I ain't a genius, you don't hafta rub it in."

"No," Rocko admitted. "You're not a genius, but you are a king. My king."

Brick cupped his chin and pulled him close, and pressed their lips together in a chaste kiss.

"It's not your fault, either," Rocko said, his tone suddenly serious. "About Kindle. I said it before, but you didn't believe it. You have to believe it."

Brick didn't, not from him or from Lilith, but he didn't care to argue, either. Instead, he caught Rocko's mouth in another kiss, this one deeper, a sensuous petting of tongues, but had to pull away before long. He gasped for air, unable to breathe through his mangled nose. He touched it, felt how it was still wonked to one side, and winced.

"How do you even kiss me like this?" he asked as he tapped a command into his digistruct module. "I look like hell."

"You look hot. Rugged sexy."

Brick snorted, sending a lightning strike of pain through his nose. It loosed a fresh glut of blood that dripped down his chin and onto the mattress. "Shid," he grunted, "Sowwy."

"Bound to happen anyway. I think you have to reset it."

Brick shuddered. He unclipped the latch on the digistructed med kit, fished out the medicated wipes, ripped open one of the paper packets, and wiped it across his face. His cheeks tingled as new skin filled in the scrapes. "Do id fow me?" he asked, softening the consonants that threatened to send that electric agony though his nose again.

"You want me to set it?"

Brick nodded.

Rocko frowned and leaned in to inspect the mangled nose. "Okay. But you'll owe me."

Brick grunted in agreement. They sat up, facing each other on the mattress, legs sloppily intertwined. Rocko put one hand on the larger man's shoulder and raised the other one to his face, where, flinching as though it was his nose rather than Brick's, clamped thumb and forefinger around either side of the bridge. Brick failed to suppress a groan.

"Sorry!"

"Jud do id," Brick ordered, eyes squeezed shut. Rocko sucked in a hard breath and jerked his nose straight with a firm tug. Brick barked and fell back, automatically pulling away from the source of the pain. His palm came down on something under the blankets and snapped it with an audible crack.

Blood poured freely from his nose, soaking his shirt. Rocko fumbled though the med kit and found a swatch of medicated gauze, which he taped under his nostrils. "How's it feel?" he asked.

Brick grunted. "Fine."

"Now you look like a dork. Hey, what was that? You fell on something."

"Oh," Brick said, and shifted to retrieve the object from under the blankets.

It was a framed photograph of two people: A muscular man, and a little girl who who looked about eight years old. Both were sienna skinned with bluish black hair, the girl's long and braided, the man's short and hooked around under his nose in a bushy mustache. They were grinning and had their arms wrapped around each other.

Rocko's dark eyes turned even darker when they glimpsed the photo. He took it from Brick and held it in his lap, gaze fixed on the smiling duo.

"Is that Stone?" Brick asked.

"Yeah."

"Who's the girl?"

"Ruby. His daughter."

"Daughter...! You never said-"

"She's dead," Rocko said.

"Oh."

Rocko didn't offer any further explanation, but set the cracked frame and the photo aside, tucked it into one of the crates. He laid back down on the bed and pulled one of the blankets up to his chin. Brick snuggled up beside him, laying one arm over his waist. Although their bodies pressed together, Rocko seemed a million miles away. Brick hugged him close.

"I love you," he blurted out.

"You don't have to-" Rocko started to protest, but Brick covered his mouth briefly.

"Just say it. Don't be an ass."

Rocko sniffed. "I love you, too."

"Cool," Brick said, one hand snaking up to brush a lock of hair from Rocko's forehead. He pressed a kiss to the cool skin beneath.

Rocko hummed something like a lullaby. His muscles relaxed in Brick's arms, became slack. His tune faltered. Soon the humming stopped and his breathing became deep and regular. Brick left the single lamp lit. King or not, he was reluctant to sleep in a strange place, surrounded by bandits, and even less inclined in the darkness.

He closed his eyes. When he began to pray, Rocko jolted, squirmed, and mumbled a few of the familiar lines along with. Amen, they murmured, and Rocko slipped immediately into a sleep that Brick envied. His own rest was disturbed, punctuated by vivid dreams about the Garden, and of the patient, hungry moon.