Staring at myself in my bathroom mirror, I ran my hands down the black, silver, and red metallic dress that fit me like a second skin. The sheer front exposed my squeezed together breasts, shoulders covered with cap sleeves and the length cut off at mid-thigh. I didn't often throw on a dress, but when I did, you better be damn sure it'd make a statement. I bought it on a whim passing on the street in front of the Jinguji store downtown. I'd be lying to myself if I said the Samurai colors didn't call to me.

Slinking from the bathroom, I pressed my ass against the doorframe, waiting for Johnny to notice me. He sat on my couch with his booted feet propped on the center table, hand mindlessly scrolling screamsheets on the holopad. His eyes lifted, seemingly sensing my presence and his gaze lit on fire.

"Goddamn. Someone plans to get laid tonight." He flashed a wicked grin and tossed the holo on the table, pushing to his feet and grinning like an idiot.

"Bet your ass I do. Gotta make use'ah those parts you got now." I bit my bottom lip, heat swirling in my stomach watching him cross the room to me.

He pressed his chrome hand against the wall above my head, his other hand tracing over my breasts, my stomach, and settling on my hip. "It's missin' somethin' though. Let's take the Porsche. Hopin' there's something I left in the trunk still there."

"The Porsche? You 'member how to drive?" I quirked a brow and slid my knee up his side.

"Fuck no. You're drivin'. I'm gonna sit back and enjoy." A flicker of white teeth shone through the darkness of his beard and he took hold of my chin with two fingers, wiggling it.

Lightly, I jabbed my knee into his side, chuckling when he grunted louder than I expected. "Think you're gonna get away with orderin' me around much longer, Silverhand?"

"Yes. Because I know secretly—you love it." Pokes her in the forehead with his middle finger.

"Fuck. You."

"Later, princess." With a carnal smile, he pressed his hips against my stomach, that thick hardness obvious through the leather pants.

Groaning, and fighting everything in me to say to hell with going out, I slipped my hand to the back of his head and kissed him instead. "Speakin' of missing somethin'."

I pulled away from him, grinning at his groaning protests, and unwillingness to let go out of my hand as I strolled past him. Moving to my arsenal room, I bent over to yank the miscellaneous drawer open and rummage for one particular item. Johnny's hand soon appeared on my calf, trailing up my thigh and once it reached my ass, he smacked it—loud and crisp.

After I let out a pleasure mixed with pain hiss, I stood tall and held the ruby Aviators between us. "Can't imagine you without 'em. Did'jah want your tags back too?" I dug my fingers into the neck piece of my dress, but Johnny's hands caught mine.

"No. Those are forever yours, Val." With surprising delicacy, he took the sunglasses from my grasp and slid them over his eyes. "Fuck is it nice to physically feel these again."

Taking his face in my hands, I pressed my lips to his and inhaled his scent. "And it's fuckin' nova to feel you."

Johnny pressed his forehead to mine and traced his fingers through my hair. "Let's go raise some anarchy, princess."

When we got to the Porsche, Johnny popped the trunk, shoved aside Burrito XL wrappers, old school physical magazines with Samurai on the cover, and beneath all the scattered junk, rested his Samurai jacket.

"Somethin' tells me this'll look better on you." He snapped it open and raised his brows, waiting for me to give him my back. Smiling, I obliged and he slipped it over my arms, nestling it atop my shoulders. Johnny grabbed my hips and turned me to face him, letting out a mix between a groan and a sigh. "There's my girl."

His girl.

"Not sure if you can understand it, but—" I pulled the jacket tighter around me, reveling in Johnny's scent even after all these years still settled into it. "—means so much more hearin' it like this."

"Yeah?" Johnny tugged the jacket's collar, beaming at the sight of me in it. "Think how much better it'll be with me balls deep in you and you wearing nothin' but this."

My insides flipped over themselves and I pulled the sleeves over my hands, the jacket being two sizes too big making it easy. "Mm, but first, where'd ya wanna go, Johnny?" I scraped my nails down his arms.

"Red Dirt," he answered without an ounce of hesitation and moved to the driver's side door opening it for me with a flourish.

"Red Dirt? A little ballsy, in't it? What if someone recognizes you?" I crawled into the car, staring up at him as I rested my hands on the steering wheel.

He ducked his head in, kissing me, running his tongue along the seam of my lips before replying, "I'm countin' on it."

At Red Dirt…

When we first entered, several pairs of eyes stared quizzically but after waving off the gonk notion that Johnny Silverhand just walked into the bar, they went back to their drinks and conversation. Johnny leaned his forearms on the bar, still sporting the Aviators, and waved the bartender over.

"What'll it be?" The bartender looked from Johnny's face to my Samurai jacket.

Johnny held up to two fingers. "Two shots. Make 'em doubles."

"Of?" The bartender flipped two shot glasses onto the bar top.

"Tequila. But top it with beer and add some chili," I answered for him, peeling back my sleeve for him to scan for payment.

Johnny raised a brow, his touch trailing to my hip and squeezing it.

"You realize how much you look like the late Johnny Silverhand?" The bartender asked as he poured.

"I get that a lot, yeah," Johnny responded cooly.

A snort escaped my mouth and I rested my chin on Johnny's shoulder. "But my guy plays better than Johnny ever did."

Johnny drummed his fingers on my waist in approval.

"Bold claim," the bartender said through a hearty chuckle.

Johnny slid the sunglasses from his nose, pinching it. "Shit. Sorry, Val. I keep forgettin'I don't have a chip to pay."

"Ain't like you haven't used my eddies without me knowin'." I elbowed him in the side.

Smirking, he curled an arm around my shoulders, pulled me to his side, and gave my cheek a sloppy kiss.

Once the shots were resting in front of us, we lifted our glasses and turned to face each other.

"Here's to bein' alive," Johnny said.

"And to second chances," I added before we clanked our glasses and downed the liquor.

Thirty minutes and several more shots later…

Johnny sat on a stool and I had my arm draped over his shoulder. "Johnny, Johnny, Johnny," I said in unusually high-pitched tone, pointing at the empty stage where two lonely guitars and a mic stand stood. "Look."

Johnny swigged down the shot waiting for him and ran the back of his hand over his mouth. "You thinkin' what I'm thinkin'?"

"Aren't we always?" Sprouting a grin, we pushed away at the same time, clamoring to the stage, and paying no mind to the raised brows and side-long glances the patrons gave us suddenly hijacking it.

Johnny slid the Aviators back over his eyes as he nabbed one guitar, grabbing the other and handing it to me with a pearly grin. "Song preference?"

"If I'm playing rhythm?" Ruffling my hair, I plugged into the amp and let my fingers drag down the strings. "Never Fade Away."

"Preem." Johnny threw the guitar's strap over his head after plugging in and moved to the mic stand, adjusting it.

Several patrons turned in their stools, eyes fixated on Johnny and probably wondering why he looked so familiar—that it couldn't possibly be.

We didn't bother with introductions and after standing beside each other, we strummed into the first riff together in perfect harmony. We had no drums to accompany us, so instead I kept the beat pounding the stage with my foot.

"We lost everything," Johnny sang into the mic.

I pressed my back and ass to his side, playing my part on the guitar vertically.

"We had to pay the price." Johnny's gaze roamed the Samurai jacket draped over my shoulders.

After he repeated the verse another time, we turned to face each other, playing the song together and growing hotter and more feral with each passing note. The next verse had back up vocals and I gladly stood on my tip-toes to shove my cheek against his and sing with him. Sing with Johnny Silverhand. My Johnny.

We'd seemingly been launched into our own world, forgetting we were anywhere but on this stage together and not in a dive bar. Until one miserable drunk had to remind us.

"Who's this gonk think he is? The real Johnny fuckin' Silverhand?" A portly man in a stained ribbed tank and a plaid shirt cut off at the shoulders yelled over the music.

Simultaneously, we stopped playing and cut our gazes to Mr. Plaid.

"That's because he is," I answered, not thinking before I spoke, but the buzz in my brain from the alcohol made me not give a shit.

Several people laughed, but not as loud as Mr. Plaid and he folded his arms over his chest, making the fat on his sides bulge. "Might wanna put a muzzle on your bitch there, Johnny."

Johnny's face fumed and he tore the strap from his neck, letting the guitar drop to the stage. In what seemed mere seconds, he leapt down, crossed the room and slammed a punch with his chrome hand square into Mr. Plaid's nose.

Blood oozed down Mr. Plaid's chin, collecting on his shirt. His hands flew to his face and he let out a monstrous cry.

Clearing my throat, I removed the guitar and spoke a parting into the mic. "It's been a pleasure playin' for you all. Have a nova night."

Cackling, I hopped from the stage, hand grasping Johnny's out-stretched one and we sprinted from the bar, stumbling into a nearby alley. Johnny's hands pressed to my shoulders, pinning me against the wall, our chests pumping up and down from labored breathing—the sprinting, the adrenaline from Johnny punching a man in my honor, performing together on stage.

"Lift your leg," Johnny growled into my neck, his warm breath moistening my skin.

No sooner had I lifted my thigh, his hands were on them, hiking up my dress. I reached his belt, undoing it in a frenzy, pulling down the zipper, and releasing his hard as sin cock. He gripped my ass and hoisted me up, encouraging me to wrap my legs around his waist, to circle his neck with my arms. After one flick of my thong's thin fabric, parting it aside, he plunged into me without recourse, pumping, driving, and plowing over and over with grunts so primal it had my insides roaring. People passed us fucking against an alley wall but didn't give one glance in our direction. Witnessing sex in public in twenty seventy-seven became the least odd thing one could see on any given day.

"You any idea how fuckin' hot—" Johnny thrust once hard and paused. "Badass—" He thrust again, with such force this time it lightly beat my head against the brick and I gasped. "And crazy you are, Val?"

I clenched around him making a snarl bubble from his throat and he pushed further inside me. "Johnny Silverhand. Such a charmer."

His lips dipped to my ear and he nibbled the lobe. "Don't you forget it. But sounds like, you don't want any more of this impressive cock."

Grabbing his face with one hand, I pushed the Aviators up and into his hair. "You pull outtah me right now, Johnny and I'll never fuckin' forgive you."

He grinned and went back to thrusting. Several moments later we both came, my cries echoing off the alley walls. Once my feet touched solid ground, I shimmied the dress back to mid-thigh, and bit my lip, watching Johnny stuff his cock back into his pants, noting he liked to shift it to the left.

"Let's storm Lizzie's," I said, flashing a wicked grin.

Johnny slid the sunglasses back to his nose and raked a hand through his long dark hair. "Lizzie's? Doesn't really seem our scene."

"Yeah. Figure we could fuck wit' people in their BDs." I waggled my eyebrows.

He cupped my face, smiling and circling his thumbs over my cheeks. "You're my perfect kinda crazy."

Lizzie's and Even More Shots Later…

We stumbled over each other as we sneaked into another VIP area, a room secluded from the outward BDs throughout all of Lizzie's. Johnny dropped his pants, nearing his ass to a man's face, pressing it to his cheek. The man remained oblivious, his lips twitching, hands grabbing at the air in front of him. I draped a hand over my mouth, stifling a laugh to keep security away. The center table had an array of half-empty bottles, cigarette butts and conveniently…a marker. Smiling, I snorted and scooped the black ink into my palm, using my other hand to steady myself against the table as my body swayed. Johnny caught me by the hips, standing me upright.

Giving his lips a quick peck, I held the marker up between us.

"Oh, you're bad," Johnny said, snickering and nudging his head toward a woman with teal hair—her mouth slack-jawed, hands clawing at the pink couch she sat on.

Between the two of us, we drew moustaches, jizzing dicks on cheeks, glasses, and the words "Corpo Scum" on each and every face within the VIP room.

When we snuck out, shutting the door as quietly behind us as possible, but making so many snorting and laughing sounds it probably hadn't mattered, a familiar voice called out her name. "V?"

Judy.

Tensing, I shoved Johnny toward the wall face-first hiding precisely that, his face. "Judy! What uh—what you doin' here?" Every other word ran together, slurring.

"Uh, I work here?" She took a step forward, her multi-colored hair shifting. "You drunk?"

I held up two fingers, making a small gesture.

"Who's this?" Her gaze fell on Johnny.

I shifted in front of him, bumping into his hip. "Just some guy I picked up. Gotta get laid sometimes, amIright?"

"You wanted it that bad why not get a Joytoy?" Judy squinted at Johnny like she recognized him.

"Thrill of the chase?" A nervous chuckle fluttered from my gut and I cemented my feet to the floor to keep from swaying.

"Uh huh."

"Well, it was preem seein' ya, Jud. We should get goin'." I pressed my hand between Johnny's shoulder blades, ushering him toward the exit.

Right before our palms flew into the door handle, Johnny peeked over his shoulder and said, "Nice meetin' you in the flesh, Judy."

Judy's eyes went wide but we were already outside and halfway down Sutter Street.

"While we're fuckin' with people's heads, why don't we make a pit stop at Afterlife?" Johnny asked, tripping on the curb and laughing.

I cackled and grabbed onto a street lamp pole, swinging around it like a stripper. "Rogue would bust a gasket."

"Gotta tell her at some point." Johnny grabbed the same pole and twirled behind me. "Might as well be sloppy ass drunk."

Stopping, Johnny crashed into me and we toppled to the curve, snickering.

"You still have feelins for her?" I blurted, uncharacteristically jealous all of the sudden.

Johnny curled an arm around my hips and pulled my closer. "Val," he crooned before removing a cigarette and lighting it. "You're my girl. Rogue and I are ancient, I've been dead, history."

"It's the alcohol." I leaned against him, throwing an arm over his leg and tilting my head back in an unspoken plea for a drag on his cigarette.

He offered it to me, moving hair that'd fallen over my eyes from my face as I took several puffs.

"Fuck it. Let's go." I slapped a hand on his thigh and hoisted to my feet.

Afterlife After Three Rounds of Silverhand Specials…

We'd found a vacant booth and I sat next to Johnny with my feet propped on the wall, head dangling off the seat. The room spun in unending circles but it was hard to tell how much of it came from the alcohol and how much was something I didn't want to think about. Not now. Any time but right now.

Johnny's hand trailed my stomach and he tugged the jacket. "Val. You alright?"

Pinching my eyes shut, I pushed from the wall, spun and turned my back to him so he couldn't see my pained expression. "I'm good. Just gotta go to the restroom."

"I'll go with you."

Holding my palm out, I mustered a smile at him over my shoulder. "First time gotten to take a shit alone in weeks, Johnny."

Johnny pushed his Aviators further up his nose with a finger. "Right. I'll uh—I'll be here."

"You better." After squeezing his knee, I hobbled to the bathroom, gripping tables, walls, and doorways on the way there.

I found a vacant stall and sunk to my knees, gripping the edges of the toilet and fighting every urge I had to puke my guts out. The Relic glitched in my brain, surging agony down my spine, and piercing jolts in my skull. I stayed there, waiting for the episode to pass. People came and went in the bathroom and no one knocked to see if I was alright or reached anything under the stall to help me. I could've died with my head in the toilet and no one would've been the wiser. Such was Night City.

Coughing, I sputtered blood all over my hand, but the hacking meant the anomaly withered. Eventually I was able to wash my hands, splash cold water on my face and return to Johnny. He remained in the same booth, but Rogue stood in front of him with her arms crossed, looking anything but happy.

"Rogue, how ya doin'?" I asked, moving to sit beside Johnny.

Rogue cocked a brow and looked between us. "Better than you I imagine, V. This asshole filled me in on everything."

"Yeah? Don't look all that happy to see 'im."

Johnny smirked and jostled my shoulders. "Trust me. This is her happy face."

"Listen. You two are welcome to stay as long as you want, just behave. Alright?" Rogue pointed at Johnny. "And I'm mostly talkin' to you, asshole."

Johnny kissed the air and Rogue stood there another heartbeat, staring at Johnny in disbelief before she turned away, grabbing a bottle from the bar top on her way back to the office.

"Let's delta, Val," Johnny said, his voice gravelly.

My brow rose. "Oh?"

"Yeah. Afterlife'll always be here. Let's explore." Johnny shot to his feet and motioned to me. "Hop on. I'll be your gallant steed."

Sucking on my bottom lip, I sauntered to his side. "You're certainly hung like a steed."

Johnny peeked over the rims of his Aviators and winked at me.

Instead of hopping onto his back like I knew he expected, I jumped to his front, wrapping my legs around him and pressing our chests together.

His arms stayed extended to either side before he held my ass. "Was goin' for a piggy back ride, but this is much fucking preferred."

"Figured you'd approve." I grinned and twirled a finger through his hair.

He carried me outside to the sidewalk, the nightlife and neon lights hitting us like a backdraft. I curled forward and rested my head on his shoulder, enjoying the feeling of being wrapped around him and supported for the first time in what may have been ever. Sleep could come easy like this. My eyes felt heavy.

Johnny patted my ass. "Hey. Got an idea."

Lazily lifting my head, through the hazed vision of wooziness, the lit red sign blinking "Parlor" came into view.

"We gettin' matching tats?"

"One of us is," he mumbled against my nape.

The realization dawned on me and though the jacket covered it, I lifted my right arm, staring at the inside of it, knowing what was inked into my flesh there.

After the artist greeted us, he asked Johnny what he wanted and Johnny slipped the jacket from my shoulders, turning my right forearm over for the tattoo artist to see—the heart with an arrow through it, reading "Johnny + V" that he'd gotten when he took over my body and partied until I got a hangover the next morning.

"I want this exact tat in the exact spot on my forearm but make the V into Val."

My insides beamed, positively burst and I snapped my gaze to the artist. "Can you add the a and l to mine too?"

"Can do. This'll be quick. Why don't you both have a seat." He gestured to two recliners positioned beside each other.

We lay side-by-side, the same as when Johnny got his body back. Only this time, Johnny was breathing, alive, and smiling at me. We walked some of the alcohol off trekking back to my apartment afterward and I kept grabbing his arm to reassure myself Johnny had actually done it—got the matching heart tattoo with our names. He had. He really had. Right there perfectly nestled between two tattoos he already had on the inside of his bicep and above his wrist.

No sooner had my apartment door whisked shut, the Relic malfunctioned again, sending my vision in a barrage of overlapping glitches and flashes. There was no hiding it from Johnny this time and I gripped my head, falling to my knees, but never met the ground because Johnny caught me.

"Val, don't you die on me," Johnny yelled, the decibel pounding in my ears.

Blood trickled from my nose and over my lips. Johnny turned me to my back, cradling the back of my head as he slowly lowered me to the ground. I blinked, but couldn't find the strength to hold my own damn head up and let it relax into his palm.

Johnny's face appeared in mine, his expression worried and tortured. He kissed the bridge of my nose and used his thumb to swipe the blood away from my mouth. "Why didn't you tell me, Valerie? Hm? You damn fool. Why didn't you fuckin' tell me?"

"This—" I croaked, wincing. "—is why."

"What's happening? You barely coughed when we split psyches, you never—" He stopped, his grip tightening at the back of my neck.

"Yeah. Misty told me this could happen." I reached for his hand on me, running my fingertips over his rings. "Your chip stole too much of my mind. Can't survive on what's left."

"Then we'll put it the fuck back in. I'll live in your head until you die if it means you can live, Val."

Curtly shaking my head, I held back another cough. "Don't be a gonk, Johnny. Even if that were possible, not a guarantee it still wouldn't kill me."

Johnny huffed a breath and pressed our foreheads together. "I just got you. Gotta be somethin' we can fuckin' do." His last words were a roar.

"We need'tah talk to Alt. And we need'tah do it now," I whispered.

He peeled back, his eyes searching my face. "You got somewhere you can deep dive without turnin' heads?"

I gave a shaky nod. "Panam and the Aldecaldos. In the Badlands."

"We're there." Johnny scooped me in his arms and I rested my ear against his chest.

"Thought you couldn't remember how'tah drive."

"I'll figure it out real fuckin' fast."