"I drive myself to the edge of madness trying to explain the truth." - From the Journals of Toland, the Shattered


The wafting scents of hot broth and steamed buns filled the cramped confines of the alleyway shop. A light rain fell outside, the steady patter of droplets on the awning mingling with the sizzling hiss of oil from the open kitchen. The sounds were accompanied by the sporadic clink of chopsticks and ceramic spoons against porcelain bowls, a quiet chorus of satisfaction underscored by the soft buzz of conversation.

Even though the lunch rush had already come and gone, every seat in the house was occupied. And rightly so. Kanikama Ramen was one of the best-kept secrets in the Peregrine District. It was the sort of hole-in-the-wall that had practically become an institution amongst district locals yet remained blissfully unknown to outsiders. It had been a regular haunt of Meren's and Hiro's for years, ever since they'd accidentally stumbled upon it. Since then, its popularity had only continued to grow.

The proprietors were an older couple, a wife and husband team, the former a retired shipwright whose stories were equal parts harrowing and hilarious, while the latter was the culinary wizard behind the restaurant's fare. Between the two, the small space was kept clean and tidy, the food fresh and hot. The service was unbeatable.

Seated at her and Hiro's usual corner booth, Meren stirred her bowl of ramen absently, watching the steam curl and fade. She hadn't even touched it yet. Her mind was elsewhere. A seemingly frequent affliction over the past two weeks. Ever since she'd handed her situation report over to Zavala.

Across from her, her Exo companion had no such qualms. Already, he'd finished his first bowl and was currently working his way through a second plate of fried dumplings. His abject gluttony threatened to turn her stomach. On the positive side, the food was at least keeping him quiet for the time being.

Meren prodded a wedge of marinated egg with her chopstick, forcing it back under the cloudy surface of the broth. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched an unlikely pair of patrons a few booths over. Judging by the two Ghosts that hovered near the table's condiment rack, they were Guardians. A Titan and Warlock, their armor and robes traded for casual clothes.

The Exo Titan wore a highlighter yellow raincoat over her polka dot shirt and checked slacks, while the gangly Human Warlock sported a pair of dark blue trousers and a plain grey knit pullover, the sleeves pushed up to his elbows. The latter - Ikharos, from what she'd overheard - did not look like he wanted to be there.

The pair's conversation had been going on for the better part of ten minutes, though the topic remained wildly inconsistent. Every so often, the Warlock would say something, and the Titan would respond, bobbing her head or shrugging. Then, the conversation would lapse, and the process would repeat. Meren caught snatches of the discussion here and there, the Warlock's voice occasionally rising above the background din.

"Are we talking wish-dragons here or dragon dragons?" Ikharos was asking, his tone curt. "Because one is fictional, and the other is a legitimate threat to the well-being of everyone in the system. Or was."

The Titan, Olympia-4, gave it a moment of thought before seizing a napkin from the condiment tray and a pen from her jacket pocket. Her Ghost bobbed over her shoulder, watching intently as she began scribbling. After a moment, she flipped the paper around, presenting her hasty drawing to her companion.

"O-kay, that's an Ahamkara," Ikharos drawled, staring at the napkin, "minus a few eyes. And you want to know..."

The Exo opened her mouth and a crackle of static issued forth. Beneath it, a faint, distorted word came through.

"If."

"Nah, they're gone," Ikharos replied. "All dead. Believe me, the system- hell, the galaxy's better for it."

Olympia's shoulders drooped slightly, but she gave a decisive nod and took back her napkin, scrawling something beside her original doodle.

"Eggs, too," Ikharos confirmed.

Olympia sat back, folding her arms and fixing the Warlock with a steady gaze. He stared right back.

"What?" he asked.

Olympia cocked her head and brought a fist to the palm of her opposite hand. A silent inquiry.

"Uh...yeah," Ikharos said. "Yeah, I killed a few. A couple during the Great Hunt, a couple more back in the Dark Age. Why?"

The Titan shook her head.

"Look, believe me or not, that's your choice, but I'm telling you, they're-"

A snap of static cut him off. Olympia hunched forward and tapped the napkin twice before adding one final flourish to her drawing.

Meren couldn't see what it was from where she sat, but Ikharos seemed to have no trouble making it out. He looked down at the paper for a few seconds before letting out a long, slow breath.

The Titan's Ghost finally chimed in. "Olympia and I just wished we'd get to see one someday, is all."

The Warlock's expression darkened, his brows pinching together. His gaze flicked between the Ghost and Olympia before settling on the latter.

"Wishing's a dangerous thing," he muttered, the words heavy.

Before he could say anything more, their food arrived. Ikharos and Olympia sat back, and the table lapsed into silence, both parties turning to their meals.

Meren returned her attention to the bowl before her. The broth had grown lukewarm. With a sigh, she set down her chopsticks and reached for the teapot at the edge of the table, pouring herself a fresh cup. She'd barely gotten a sip down before the Exo across the table snapped out of his food spell, a sudden thought seeming to occur to him.

"Hey, you gonna eat that?" Cayde asked, pointing to her bowl.

Meren stared at him for a second. "I was planning on it, yes."

"Well, if you change your mind, lemme know."

"Cayde."

"What? Just sayin', no food goes to waste on my watch!"

Meren took another sip of her tea, eyeing the assortment of empty dishes scattered around him.

"I can see that," she said dryly.

Cayde's optics flicked up at her, narrowing slightly. "Oh, c'mon. Lighten up, will ya? I know it's been a rough couple of weeks, but-"

"Rough?" Meren interrupted, lowering her cup. "That's an understatement. Try 'disastrous' or 'life-altering' or, better yet, 'utterly humiliating'."

"And we're back," the Exo muttered.

Meren didn't let up. "Do you understand the position I'm in right now, Cayde?"

"Listen, so maybe things aren't ideal, but you have to look on the bright side. It's not all bad."

She fixed him with a level stare. "Really?"

For once, Cayde's reply didn't come immediately. He hesitated, then reached for his own drink and took a long swig. He was clearly stalling and not without reason.

After departing the Tower's restricted detention facilities, Meren had returned home and set straight to work. A torrent of words had flowed from her fingertips, spurred on by bitter indignation at the injustice of the situation. That righteous anger had fueled her writing, the hours and pages ticking away without pause. That night, she'd foregone sleep, choosing instead to burn through a pot of coffee and a blister of stim pills while she worked. By the end, her head had been throbbing, and her hands had been cramped. But the situation report had been done. A day early, at that.

On Monday, she'd marched off to Commander Zavala's office and had laid her report on his desk, as promised. There'd been no small talk. Zavala had simply picked up the datapad and skimmed a few lines in silence, his brow furrowing further and further as he read. After a minute, he'd put the report aside and folded his hands on his desk. The look he'd given her could have frozen Mercury over.

Technically, the document she'd handed in had been less of a situation report and more of a manifesto denouncing the conditions the Eliksni prisoners were being kept in. In no less than thirty-one pages of scathing rhetoric, she had called out the Speaker, the Factions, and not least of all, the Vanguard for their continued mistreatment of sentient beings. She hadn't held anything back, either. Her criticisms had been unflinchingly harsh and her demands resolute.

And they'd deserved every word of it.

If her last visit with Itrik and Yalsis was any indication, the situation was getting markedly worse, not better. What infuriated her more than the Eliksni's suffering, though, was the fact that it was all for nothing.

It had become clear that the Consensus and the Vanguard, by association, had no intention of charging them with any legitimate crimes, much less bringing them to a fair trial. It couldn't be said that their incarceration was tactical, either. With some diplomatic foresight, the City could have used them as political bargaining chips, leveraging them for concessions in negotiations with the earthbound Houses. But that had never happened. Instead, they had simply been left in the dark, forgotten and wasting away. All because the powers that be had no idea what to do with them and were hell-bent on pretending they didn't exist.

The Eliksni's silent plight had deluded Meren into thinking that the Vanguard would heed her words. That they would carry some weight and spur the Consensus to enact a long-anticipated change in policy. Something would give. It had to.

All those hopes had died the instant Commander Zavala had looked up at her.

To his credit, he hadn't immediately thrown her out of his office. Instead, he'd calmly offered her another chance to rewrite the situation report. His exact words had been, "I will give you the opportunity to redact some of your more inflammatory statements, Professor Hale. Consider this a professional courtesy. I advise you take it."

In all her stubborn wisdom, Meren had refused.

Commander Zavala had suspended her on the spot.

The next day, Meren had been summoned back to the Tower. There, she'd found herself standing before the Vanguard commanders, the Speaker, and the Future War Cult faction representative, Lakshmi-2. No time had been wasted on formalities or greetings. Without preamble, Commander Zavala had launched into a brief lecture detailing the merits of following orders and the importance of obeying the chain of command.

Meren had stood there, arms clasped behind her back, and silently seethed.

The Speaker had gone next, his words muted and serene. His tone had been fatherly, almost concerned, as though she were a wayward child. It had made her blood boil.

What came after that, however, had been far worse.

In a move that had felt like a slap in the face, Commander Zavala had stepped back up to the proverbial podium and, in front of everyone present, had given her a thorough dressing-down. His words had been pointed, each syllable cutting deep.

Her actions had been nothing less than a blatant violation of the Vanguard Code of Conduct. By failing to follow a direct order, she'd displayed a shocking lack of integrity and professionalism. In his mind, she had not only betrayed the institution's trust but had been dangerously close to betraying humanity as well. The words 'fraternizing with antagonistic alien entities' had come up more than once.

When Zavala's reprimand had ended, Ikora had inserted a few choice words on Meren's decorum, or lack thereof. Her disappointment had been palpable in her curt tone. Though Ikora had said the least, her words had hit the hardest.

Cayde and everyone else in attendance had remained painfully silent.

In the end, Meren's insubordination had cost her dearly. Not only had she lost the Vanguard's confidence and respect, but her suspension had been final.

The meeting had ended with her stripped of all privileges, her clearance rescinded, her credentials revoked, and her contract terminated.

Across the table, Cayde shifted awkwardly.

"I mean, it could be worse, right?" he offered.

Meren sighed, the frustration beginning to drain out of her. It was hard to stay angry when the target of her ire was being so damnably amiable.

"Yeah," she muttered. "I suppose it could."

If there was a bright spot in the whole debacle, it was that at the end of the proceedings, both Zavala and Ikora had made a backhanded remark about opening a probe into the matter with the Eliksni, citing the need to reexamine the current policy regarding alien detainees. Whether they would make good on those words, Meren had no idea. Still, for Itrik's sake, she prayed they would.

"See?" Cayde said, a hopeful note creeping into his voice. "Not all bad! I mean, sure, you're technically banned from the Tower and all Vanguard affairs for the rest of your life. And, well, you might be kinda unemployable for the foreseeable future when it comes to a second job. But hey, you've got plenty of free time now! Maybe take up a new hobby. I hear crochet's all the rage these days."

"Crochet?" Meren repeated. "Seriously?"

"What? You like doing all that book-making stuff, don't you? Crochet's like that, but with yarn and needles."

"Hooks."

"Hooks, right. My point is, you have options now. No more boring meetings or reports. It's sorta like a vacation, only longer."

"And more permanent," she deadpanned.

"Eh, details," Cayde brushed off. "Look, you're smart, you'll find something to do with yourself. Trust me."

Meren's eyes fell to her untouched bowl of ramen. Cayde wasn't exactly the most reassuring person to receive a pep talk from. He'd always seemed more of the 'shoot first, ask questions later' type. But who else could she turn to?

She'd already bemoaned the situation to Hiro several times over several dinners. Initially, he'd been sympathetic, offering all the support, platitudes, and suggestions he could muster. After the third go-round, though, he'd grown decidedly more detached, his responses becoming more terse. Eventually, she'd sensed that her self-inflicted predicament was beginning to wear on him and had stopped bringing it up altogether.

Most of her other colleagues were likewise out of the question. They didn't know the half of the story and wouldn't take the time to hear her out. Even if some did, and she just happened to feel like outlining the whole thing from the beginning for the umpteenth time, she had a feeling they'd only add fuel to the fire. The distinguished rumor mill of academia would spin her tale into a preposterous scandal, and her reputation would suffer the consequences. She didn't need that.

That's why when Cayde had dropped by her office that afternoon and invited her to join him for an early dinner, Meren had reluctantly accepted. If nothing else, it would keep her from wallowing at her apartment all evening.

"I...Thanks, Cayde," she finally said.

He waved her off. "No problem. What are friends for, right?"

A faint smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. Even if Cayde wasn't the best with words, at least his intentions were sincere.

"Now, c'mon, dig in, would ya?" Cayde urged, grabbing a dumpling with one hand and flagging down one of the proprietors with the other. "Food's getting cold."

"Alright, alright," Meren conceded, taking up her chopsticks.

They lapsed into a comfortable silence, focusing on their respective meals. Her food, thankfully, was still warm enough to be tolerable. Cayde, meanwhile, went right back to stuffing his face regardless of the food's temperature.

As they ate, Meren couldn't help but glance back over at the Titan and Warlock pair. From the state of the booth, Olympia was either extremely hungry or had no concept of money, because her half of the table was piled high with empty dishes. Ikharos, by contrast, was picking at a comically small bowl of noodles. Every so often, he'd take a sip from his glass. Whatever he was drinking had been refilled several times already.

A jovial cry of "Irasshaimase!" from the kitchen drew Meren's attention to the main entrance, where a trio of customers had just come in. Outside, the rain hadn't let up, but that didn't deter the queue forming in front of the shop. The bright neon noodle sign in the storefront window was clearly doing its job.

A few seconds later, an older woman in a red apron emerged from the kitchen and passed their table, pausing briefly to drop off a bowl of strikingly red noodles in front of Cayde. He looked up and gave her a quick thumbs-up before returning to the third plate of dumplings he'd ordered.

The alarming rate at which the Exo was putting the food away had suddenly become more concerning than impressive. He didn't seem to be slowing down at all.

Meren leaned forward slightly, eyeing the new bowl.

"Who's picking up the tab for this? You or me?" she asked.

Cayde paused mid-bite, looking at her blankly. "Uh, you?"

"Oh, for the love of..." Meren muttered. "Then stop!" She reached across the table and grabbed the plate, moving it out of Cayde's reach. "I can't afford to feed your bottomless pit without a secondary income."

Cayde let out a muffled sound of protest and reached out to take it back, but Meren swatted his hand away.

"The sign said all-you-can-eat!" he fussed.

"On Tuesdays."

"Today's Tuesday."

"It's Thursday."

Cayde's gaze alternated between her and the bowl as though weighing the merits of trying to fight her for it. "Feels like a Tuesday."

Meren's eyes flicked to the ceiling, and she sat back, taking the plate with her.

"Unbelievable."

"What? A guy's gotta eat."

Meren plucked one of Cayde's prized dumplings from the plate and popped it into her mouth. The pan-seared wrapping gave way under her teeth, revealing a savory pork filling. It was shockingly good, too. Though, she questioned how a small shop like Kanikama Ramen had gotten its hands on real pork.

Cayde looked scandalized. "That was mine."

"You know," she began, ignoring him, "technically, Exos don't need to eat. At all."

He crossed his arms and stared her down, a challenge in his slitted optics. Only a second or two passed before his expression softened, and he dropped the act.

"Know what you need? A drink," Cayde announced, making a cryptic hand gesture in the kitchen's direction. "That'll loosen you up."

"Cayde, I don't-"

Before she could finish her thought, one of the proprietors was already approaching, carrying a bottle and two cups. Cayde took them from her and poured a healthy amount of vivid green liquid into the first cup, then slid it across the table to Meren.

"There," he said, pouring a second portion for himself. "Drink up."

Meren stared down into her cup. It looked strong and smelled even stronger.

"First ramen, then dumplings, and now alcohol?" she remarked dryly. "If you think I'm footing the bill for your hangover tomorrow-"

"Relax, buddy," he said, taking a sip. "Everything's on me."

"That's not what you said a minute ago."

Cayde shrugged, not quite meeting her eyes. "Yeah, well, that was then, this is now. Besides, it's the least I can do. Now, c'mon, drink."

Meren didn't need to be told a third time. She raised her cup and took a sip. It tasted awful and seared her throat going down. A shudder ran through her as it hit her stomach.

"Good stuff, right?"

Meren grimaced. "What is this, turpentine?"

"Nah, that's for Titans," Cayde jested, his cup already drained. "This is straight-up rocket fuel. Just like the good old days."

All Meren could do was shake her head at him in consternation as she picked up the bottle, eyeing the label. It read 'Rasputin's Revenge', which didn't help clear up the mystery of its contents. She turned it over and skimmed the back, looking for a description or ingredient list. All she found was a brief paragraph touting the drink's strength, along with a satirical warning that it 'may not be suitable for Warmind consumption'.

Letting the mystery drop, she helped herself to another sip, hoping it would taste better the second time around. It didn't. She pushed her cup aside and returned to her dinner in an attempt to wash away the lingering burn.

"So, uh, look," Cayde began after a moment, the playfulness gone from his voice. "I know you're not exactly having the best week ever, and, well, you could probably use some cheering up, right? So, I was thinking, what's better than ramen and drinks? How about ramen, drinks, and an impromptu trip out into the wilds?"

Meren nearly choked on a noodle.

"What?" she sputtered.

"Yeah, I know, totally spur-of-the-moment, but there's this place. An abandoned Fallen encampment we've had our eye on for a while, not too far past the third marker. I figured you and me, we could go check it out. Do some reconnaissance or, uh, research? Whatever it is you big brain types like to do. What do you say?"

Meren was momentarily speechless. He wanted her to leave the relative safety of the Last City. On an unsanctioned and unauthorized scouting mission. With him. Just before dusk. To visit a purportedly abandoned Eliksni relay post. Not two weeks after the Vanguard had reprimanded her for her misconduct and insubordination.

It was absurd.

"You're joking," she managed to get out.

"Nope. Completely serious. See? This is my serious face. Can't you tell?"

His face looked exactly the same as it always did.

"Cayde," she began, struggling to find the words. "I...I appreciate the offer, really. But this is just- it's just not the best idea right now."

Cayde reached for the bowl of offensively red noodles and pulled it closer.

"What do you mean? It's a great idea! You get some fresh air, a change of scenery. And, y'know, maybe even a chance to scavenge some interesting Fallen tech. Show-and-tell for your next class, eh? The kids would love that."

Meren's grip on her chopsticks tightened. "They're grown adults," she corrected.

"Uh, right," Cayde said, shoveling a heap of noodles into his mouth.

Even across the table, the sheer heat of the spices coming off his food threatened to make her eyes water. She shifted back slightly and took another sip of her drink, using the cup to block her view of him.

"It's too risky," she argued.

Cayde swallowed his mouthful and waved off her objection.

"Pfft, risky," he scoffed. "Please. You're talking to a professional risk-taker here. On the scale of one to 'harrowing', this ranks like a two at most."

"No," Meren asserted.

Cayde was unfazed. "Oh, come on. Live a little."

Meren eyed him over the rim of her cup.

"Have you considered what will happen once Commander Zavala finds out we left the City together? You're technically not even supposed to be speaking with me, remember?"

Cayde didn't appear the least bit bothered by her words. "What Big Z doesn't know won't hurt him," he stated matter-of-factly.

As ever, his grasp on reality was tenuous at best, and it took most of Meren's restraint not to roll her eyes at him.

"You really think they're not keeping tabs on me right now? The minute we pass the walls, the defense Frames will flag me."

"So we transmat out and avoid the checkpoints," he replied. "Problem solved."

For a second or two, she just blinked at him before taking another sip of her drink.

"Cayde, this isn't a game," she finally said.

"You bet your cotton socks it's not! It's a recon mission!"

Meren let out a sigh of frustration. Cayde wasn't going to let up. She could see that. But there was no way she could let him drag her into yet another mess. Her hands and head were full enough dealing with the current one.

"I can't," she reiterated. "And anyway, it's pouring out."

Cayde gestured toward the storefront window. Outside, the rain had begun to come down in sheets, blurring the view of the other shops and their bright signage that lined the alley.

"So?" he asked. "It'll stop any minute now."

"The forecast begs to differ."

Cayde just shrugged. "Say the weather bot's wrong and it lets up. What say we give it a shot, huh? We could grab my Sparrow and-"

"Hold on," Meren interrupted, "I thought someone stole it."

"Soo, funny story." His expression somehow managed to convey sheepishness. "See, turns out it was in the hangar the whole time. Right where I left it."

"Oh, for Traveler's sake…"

"Anyway," Cayde pressed on, "say the rain stops. We transmat out, hop on my Sparrow, and hit the open road. It'll be in and out, a couple hours tops. Easy peasy."

Meren set her cup down and forced a disingenuous smile.

"Oh, sure. And while we're at it, why don't we just take your ship out on a little side tour of the Manhattan Nuclear Zone."

Cayde either ignored or missed her sarcasm completely, because he abruptly leaned forward, his elbows coming down on the table.

"You wanna?"

"No!"

"Man," he mumbled, sounding genuinely disappointed. "Don't get my hopes up like that."

Meren took another long, fortifying sip of her drink. It still tasted terrible, but the warmth that bloomed in her chest was a welcome counter to the frustration simmering there. She set her cup down and tried a different tactic.

"Listen," she said, doing her best to sound reasonable, "if the situation was different, I'd be all for it. I mean, visiting an Eliksni encampment? It's the kind of field study I've only dreamed about." She saw Cayde raise a finger and continued quickly before he could comment. "But," she emphasized, "right now, it's not worth the risk. To either of us."

She was expecting more argument. Instead, Cayde was quiet for a moment, his head cocked thoughtfully to one side. Finally, he reached for the bottle and topped up both their glasses.

"Alright," he said, holding his cup out toward her. "Here's to the rain, then. May it never stop."

"Cayde…"

"Seriously, though," he added, his voice lowering slightly. "I'm not gonna keep pestering you, but if you change your mind, the offer stands. Anytime. Just...y'know, think about it, would ya?"

Meren hesitated, momentarily torn between her better judgment and her curiosity. She looked down at her drink, then back up at Cayde. His expression was difficult to read, but if she had to guess, he looked hopeful.

"Yeah," she finally replied. "Alright, I'll think about it."

Her words were a small concession, of course, and a hollow one. No matter how much she thought it over, her answer would invariably be no. There was simply too much at stake.

Oblivious, Cayde lifted his glass. "To the rain."

"To the rain," Meren echoed, reaching out and clinking the rim of her glass against his.

As she sank back into her seat and took up her chopsticks again, she couldn't help but shake her head.

Even if she wasn't in hot water with the Vanguard, she still wouldn't have taken Cayde up on his offer. Unlike him, she only had one life to lose, and no matter which way she sliced it, every bit of his plan was a disaster waiting to happen. A solo expedition outside the City walls at night? Unbeknownst to the Vanguard and with no backup? To an unsecured, potentially surveilled Eliksni encampment in hostile territory?

It was, without question, the worst idea she'd ever heard.


AN: Thank you many times over to Keltoi for his ever-diligent proofreading and editing.

A few more thanks are in order, again to Keltoi, and JaxxCapta(AO3) for allowing me to borrow their wonderful OCs, Ikharos and Olympia.