Archive of Our Own ^beta

It takes two weeks- two weeks post the Vault. It takes two weeks for Rhys’ weakened hold on his broken mind to falter. Two weeks of little sleep, of constant interrogations, of celebrations. Of visiting Sanctuary and meeting other Vault Hunters who praised him, the very ones who had killed the ghost that once consumed him.

It’s when Rhys is sleeping soundly for the first time in months, comfortable under a roof with the rest of his friends, that the nightmares return. He wakes up like normal, hoping no one can notice the constant twitching of his metal arm. His head spins with each step but Rhys only swallows down the bile in his throat. He shares plans of a new corporation with Vaughn, he teases Fiona’s near constant rambling about just how cool a certain redheaded vault hunter was.

He smiles at Sasha and she smiles back and it’s almost enough to put him back together. 

Almost.

It’s later in the day when Rhys zones out, when the ghostly voice is back and taunting him despite how hard he screws his eyes shut. 

Of course Vaughn notices first, his concern not quite heard by Rhys. And of course Vaughn, his best friend, his soulmate, the man who saved him time and time again, reaches over to grab his shoulder from just out of Rhys’ line of sight.

Rhys, the idiot, the Eradicator of Evil, the hero, punches the one person that meant more to him than anything straight in the jaw, sending him to the ground. 

The only silver lining from the rather horrific sight of Vaughn on the floor, clutching his face, is that Rhys used his human hand.

‘Good one, Rhysie.’

Rhys knows he doesn’t deserve much. He doesn’t deserve his friends, he doesn’t deserve to really be alive either.

But his friends think differently. 

The aftermath of punching his best friend was one that seemed so long ago, yet so recent as Rhys stares up at the gray ceiling of the new bedroom he's laid claim to. He thinks back to the arguments, the tears, the screams. 

He was dramatic, of course.

Rhys had tried to run, then and there, his eyes wide and entire figure shaking. He was stopped by Fiona of course, the woman holding him in the kitchen of her apartment as Vaughn cried for him to stop- that it was okay. Sasha helped him up and Vaughn only shrugged her off as he tried to get close to Rhys, to his best friend, his brother. But Rhys only responded by driving the final nail into the metaphoric coffin that was his happiness.

‘Get away! All of you get the fuck away!’ He had screamed, going as far as to pick up the dirtied knife slathered with some unknown jam, holding it up at the trio. His hands had shook, his eyes flickering around the room as he anticipated, he waited for that voice. That apparition. 

Unlike what usually happened, Jack didn’t show up. 

So Rhys was subdued, rather embarrassingly, as Vaughn tried to comfort him. Fiona had easily gotten the knife out of his hand, slow and cautious, a sisterly effort that somehow worked against the only child. And just like that, solutions were spoken of between the three, talks of seeing various not exactly medically licensed doctors, of talking things out. 

And Rhys only made things worse. Or better. He wasn’t sure yet. 

'You won’t ever be safe around me,’ He confessed, nearly hysterical. ‘You better kill me before I kill you.’

Rhys can still see Vaughn's teary eyes, Sasha’s deflated and terrified figure, Fiona’s concern. Most of all, he could see just how disappointed they were in him.

So here Rhys laid, hundreds of miles away. Away from Vaughn. From Fiona. From civilization.

"I made dinner,” Sasha’s voice floats over, Rhys opening his eyes at the sound but not moving. “Come eat.” 

Rhys waits till he's heard the old door creak shut before climbing to a stand. 

The nearly deteriorated farm that Rhys now calls home was barely a standing structure. The location was one of the few things he likes about it, that and the fact his bedroom door locked from the outside. 

It was a mostly wooden building, located in the middle of what Sasha called the Thousand Cuts region. There was a small field fenced in beside the two story farm, once used for agriculture and now overgrown with weeds. The bottom level held a decent enough kitchen, paired with a small living and dining room before a staircase broke into the top floor. The master bedroom had gone to Rhys, much to his own defeat, a bathroom attached without having to leave the room. Sasha had taken the only other bedroom in the home, located parallel to Rhys’. 

It wasn’t much and Rhys loved it.

And so Rhys went to work, his knees digging into the dirt of the field as he used his bare hands to dig out various weeds and invasive plants. It was disgusting, filthy work, but it did the job of keeping his mind off of the countless murders that rested on his shoulders.

It helps him forget the fact that Vaughn had no idea where he was. 

Rakks flew above the man, nowhere close enough to be a threat, their caws loud under the burning sun. Sasha was somewhere within the building, murmuring her own day plans that Rhys had already struggled to remember. 

His sunhat doesn’t feel as silly as it probably should. 

As much as he hated Sasha’s presence- hated the fact she hadn't left him to rot, he's thankful at the very least she held a weapon on her person at all times. That if his hold on himself had lapsed, she would protect herself. 

It was rather fucked just how thankful Rhys was. 

Dirt embeds under his fingernails, the pile of ripped out weeds behind him. Rhys knew a decent enough idea of just what gardening was, the bio-dome up in Helios a place he had preferred to relax with Vaughn and Yvette after a long ten hour shift of hell. He had even done a few reports on the renewable energy that powered the base, the requirements of taking care of the plants and flora that bloomed up there being the main subject- if their growth was worth the cost. 

That was nearly an eternity ago.

“I’m coming in, Rhys,” Sasha speaks then, the man blinking as he sits up on his knees, turning to face her. He nods wordlessly, ignoring just how belittled he feels with Sasha’s new habit of announcing everything before she did it.

He would never admit how much it helps.

Sasha pushes the gate open, leaving it ajar as she walks through the small field, her eyes searching the ground with a satisfied smile. She comes to a crouch beside her friend, her entire figure in his eye line as she holds out a bottle of some strange liquid. 

Rhys’ brows furrow as he blinks, looking up with the slight tilt of his head. 

“You’re doing awesome work out here,” Sasha speaks, a genuine smile on her lips. “Seriously, you are cranking away at this stuff and it’s only been-” She pauses, looking up to the sky before looking back at him. “-Three hours!” 

Rhys shrugs, hesitating before taking the yellowed bottle into his palm. He starts to speak, only to stop, clearing his throat.

“What i-is it?” He asks, his voice much scratchier and nowhere near as recognizable as it had once been.

“Some type of juice,” Sasha answers, holding her own bottle in her palm. “I made it with some of the fruits we brought with us.” She shifts to sit flat onto the dirt. “I kept the seeds for out here.” 

Rhys nods, his brows still furrowed as he lifts his sleek gray hand up to uncap the bottle, twisting it slowly. 

'She’s poisoning you.' 

Rhys takes a large gulp, his metal hand digging into the soft ground as he awaits for the taste to settle in. He blinks before nodding his head once more, unable to deny just how refreshing it felt.

He can’t recall the last time he actually tasted a meal. 

“S’Good,” He murmurs, capping the bottle again. He can’t quite meet her gaze as he looks up to the woman, the telltale fluttery feeling in his stomach immediately being squashed down as he digs his fingernails into his flesh palm. 

Sasha smiles, her brunette locks shifting as she looks around the field. It was enough of an excuse for Rhys to look her over, taking in her usual beauty. She wore a pair of loosely fitting brown pants paired with a white tank top over it, snugly fitting her figure. Her waist was decorated with an orange belt filled with tools, a pistol hidden mostly out of view as her hair rested just a few inches above. 

If Rhys thinks hard enough, he can almost remember just how warmly she held him.

“I think you’ve done enough today,” Sasha states, looking back at him. “Come on, I can use your help rearranging some furniture inside.”

Rhys nods as he climbs to a stand, brushing off his hands as he follows her once again.

The days easily blend together, Rhys discovers early on. He usually loses track of time, something Sasha helps him out with pretty often. She was his usual reminder to eat, to get out of the field, to wake up. He would find it endearing if he wasn’t so busy wallowing in self-pity.

It’s a rainy day two weeks into their ‘vacation’ that finally keeps Rhys inside. The rain pounds down onto the fields surrounding their temporary home, the usual canyons off in the distance no longer visible amongst the clouds and fog. Occasional rumbles of thunder sound out early in the morning as Rhys sits across from Sasha at the table, her hands occupied with a tablet device he could probably identify if he cared enough.

But Rhys is busy with his own plans, his human hand holding a slotted screwdriver as he digs the thin metal through the grooves of his metallic arm. The arm usually required some cleaning after a week or two of use but the amount of dirt that Rhys was suddenly around made it so that he had to clean it more often. 

His metal arm sits laid out against the wooden table, still attached to his shoulders as he digs the screwdriver through the metal, careful not to scratch the delicate material he had salvaged back in the Atlas Dome. The majority of the dirt easily comes out, falling onto the strategically placed sheet below him as he furrows his brows in concentration.

“Rhys?” Sasha starts, immediately calling for Rhys’ attention. 

He blinks, clearing his throat as he sits up. “Yeah?”

“The nearby town is having a little open market tomorrow,” She murmurs, smiling a bit. “It’s only a thirty minute walk from here, just past the canyons. You want to come?” 

Rhys thinks for a beat, swallowing the sudden weight in his throat. “I-I’ll stay,” He replies, quieter. “Probably safer.”  

Silence falls back over the two, Sasha staring at him with a weird look as he goes right back to cleaning his arm. He feels the hair on the back of his neck come to a stand as her gaze fails to falter, his hand shifting to place the screwdriver on the table before looking up, meeting her soft green eyes. 

“I’d be safer with you than I would be alone,” Sasha states, almost simply. “Not that I can’t handle myself, but it’s statistically proven that walking with someone else is safer than walking alone.” 

Rhys’ brows furrow once again. “Does that study include a guy who once had his own mind taken over by a bloodthirsty CEO?” He would flinch at his own harsh tone were it not for Sasha’s gaze locked on him. 

Sasha stares for another beat before looking back down to her tablet. “No, I guess not,” She whispers.

The well accustomed feeling of guilt that twists in his gut greets Rhys’ once more, his throat much tighter as he looks down at his lap, letting out a puff of air. He picks up the screwdriver, digging into arm without a care. 

Well, as little a care Rhys can pretend he had, the guilt in his stomach growing even more powerful as the silence wore on. He casts multiple glances up at the woman within a few minutes, finally giving in as he places the screwdriver down onto the table with more force then meant to. 

“W-Will it be long?” He mumbles, looking down at his lap. 

“No,” Sasha answers immediately. “You don’t have to come-” 

“I’d rather be with you,” Rhys interrupts, not having much time to think about just how embarrassing he sounds. 

The silence returns with a vengeance, Rhys staring down at the table, struggling to look up at his friend. 

“It’ll be good to get out,” He whispers, blinking the pressure in his eyes away. 

Sasha stays quiet for another beat, long enough that Rhys looks up, his gaze filled with fear. A small smile rests on her lips, her eyes crinkling. He almost flinches.

It’s nearly enough to make Rhys promise he’d never leave her.

The market is crowded and bustling with people and noises and all too many unfamiliar smells. But Rhys sticks close to Sasha, thinking about the days he used to do things without feeling like he was about to choke on his own spit. He walks alongside her, her hand pointing out various signs and stalls that piqued her interest.

The particular stall they stood out had various plants that didn’t really look edible, yet Sasha peered over them all, a wide smile on her lips. She speaks with the owner, a short heavy built man who held a tray of more plants in his palm, a thick black mustache over his lip. Rhys studies the man, losing interest quickly as his eyes search the plaza, his eyes locking on another stall. 

Rhys’ heart nearly skips a beat. 

The stall was a bit out of the way, nearly hidden between two buildings that appear as broken as the rest of Pandora. Still, Rhys slowly drifts away from Sasha, his feet almost moving automatically as he shifts through the crowd, his hands screwing into fists as he feels the cobblestone beneath his shoes. He comes to a stop just in front of the stall, his eyes searching the goods as his brows pinch together.

“Got anythin’ particular in mind?” The elderly woman asks, her aged brown skin reflecting the colors of the goods. She wears a small, loose-fitting red sweater paired with a black long skirt. 

Rhys looks over the stall before nodding his head, pointing at the bright yellow and white bundle before looking up, meeting the woman’s gaze, noting her all-white eye. 

“Twelve dollars,” The woman states, reaching forward to grab the bundle, picking it up in her trembling hands.

“Oh,” Rhys breathes out, blinking as he turns around looking through the crowd, unable to spot Sasha. 

Shit. Money. Fuck.  

Rhys deflates, turning back to the woman to shake his head and apologize, only to find her waving him off already, pushing the bundle into his hands.

“B-But-” 

“I gotta sell them today,” She states, waving him off once more. “The plucked ones will die without care and I don’t got the space for them all.” Her cool hands connect with Rhys’ near frigid ones as he holds the flowers in both palms, his eyes wide as she keeps her palms there. “Water ‘em every night and put ‘em in a decent vase, they’ll last a long time.” 

Rhys begins to shake his head, only for the woman to start once more. 

“Things die if you don’t take care of them,” She states, her right sleeve slipping down, a pale blue tattooed swirl peaking out. “You’ll learn that lesson early on or you’ll learn it the hard way.” 

Rhys watches as she let go of his hands, stepping back before waving him off. “Get outta here before I charge ya, kid,” She snaps.

Rhys nods, whispering a quick thanks before disappearing into the crowd again. He holds the bouquet in his hands loosely, the thorns alongside the stems pricking his human palm as he searches around for Sasha.

The people bustle right by him, shoulders and hips bumping against him without a care. Rhys continues to scan the crowd for the familiar sight of a bright blue bandana over brown locs, his brow twisting into a frown as his concern piques. 

“Rhys!” A voice sounds out from his right. He's already spinning around to face the noise, eyes shifting through the crowd in a fury before finally coming to a stop on the source. Sasha is all but sprinting through the people, her face flickering with concern and worry before she finally stumbles to a stop ahead of Rhys. She looks no doubt ready to berate him, only for her figure to deflate, bags of fruit in her hand lowering as her eyes lock onto the bouquet in his palms. 

Rhys manages a half smile, a fluttery feeling in his chest as he pulls the bundle up higher. 

“For you,” He mumbles out, looking over her features. 

And Sasha smiles. She does that embarrassed little thing where she shifts the weight on her feet, looking to the side for a breath meeting his gaze, lifting a hand to tuck a stray loc behind her shoulder, falling into another smile.

And Rhys. Rhys tries his hardest not to fall right after her. But he does anyway. 

They walk home, shoulders touching, Sasha boasting about the amazing dinner coming their way. 

Rhys holds onto the flowers with both palms the whole time. He plans to take care of them for a long time.

Things were good, they were really, really, good. Rhys was up at sunrise, tending to the plants with a unique type of love. Sasha was no longer locking his door at night, he was no longer a threat.

But like all good things that came to Rhys, they left quickly.

It’s been almost a month but Rhys doesn’t have the time to congratulate himself. It’s been almost a month without a nightmare, without his fear gripping his throat, without feeling like he was very much on the edge of the great cavern he called insanity. 

Rhys’ figure shakes in the near-freezing night time air, his sheets sticking to his sweaty skin as he sits on his bed. He's already powered off his metal arm, the fear of accidentally hurting himself or her overcoming his senses.

‘What’s wrong, Rhysie? Fell in love with a Pandoran girl? God. It's hilarious!’ 

Rhys shoves a trembling hand into his hair, pulling at the growing brown strands as he digs his teeth into his lip. He ignores the taste of metal. 

“D-Don’t- Don’t think of it,” Rhys repeats to himself, the stinging in his eyes growing painful. “H-He’s gone!”

Doesn’t mean he’s wrong, He berates himself silently, shaking his head. You stupid, selfish, fucking idiot! She doesn’t even like you like that- she never will!  

Rhys digs his hand into his scalp, his knees nearly against his mouth as he curled up as tightly as possible. He thinks hard about the various soft instructions Sasha had once given him, how to calm down when panicked, what to do when you felt like the world was falling apart.

Except the world wasn’t falling apart, Rhys was.

“Rhys? A-Are you-”

Rhys all but screams, his chest heaving with frantic breaths as he feels his eyes burn. “N-No! No- Do-Don’t come in!” He cries out, his hand unclasping the hold he has on his hair. He shifts, digging his fingers into the thin material of his sweatpants, his bare chest pricking with goosebumps. 

“Rhys,” Sasha speaks, her voice bleeding through the door. “Rhys-” 

“Sasha- Sasha you promised!” Rhys wails, shaking his head. “You promised! You promised y-you wouldn’t-t come in- Di-Did you lock-lock the door?!” He doesn’t think too hard about the rough sound that leaves his throat, breaking past his lips as he awaits in fear, his eyes locked on the door. 

“I’m coming in,” Sasha nearly spits out, giving Rhys no time to protest as the door slowly unclicks. 

Rhys seizes his last moment of fear to back away, his bare spine slamming into the wall behind his mattress as he feels his world spin. 

“Y-Your gu-gun!” Rhys cries out, his vision blurring. “Y-You don’t- You don’t have i-it-!” 

“Rhys,” Sasha interrupts, slowly entering the room with both palms out, coming to a stop at the end of the bed. “Rhys, it’s okay-” 

“You-You’re not su-supposed to come in!” Rhys whimpers, his chest falling and rising in fear. “You s-swore yo-you’d always keep it- keep the gun.” 

Rhys stares, his chest burning as each breath agonizingly burns, his gaze locked on Sasha alone, the confusion on her face growing. He watches as she focuses on him and him alone, the silence in the room interrupted only by his panicked breathing. 

It was as if the world stood still, a slow, frigid wave of understanding crashing over Sasha. It's followed almost immediately by pure horror as her shoulders fall, her hands beginning to shake.

“Rhys,” Sasha whispers, utterly heart broken. “Rhys… Rhys the gun, the gun was never for you.”

The world around Rhys doesn’t quite make sense. He doesn’t understand the blurriness of his vision, he doesn’t understand why Sasha doesn’t have her gun- doesn’t have a way to stop him. Most of all, he doesn’t understand why her eyes are suddenly wet.

“Wh-What?” Rhys whispers, his voice hoarse.

Sasha’s eyes fill with a familiar heartbreak, a familiar sadness that he witnessed not so long ago. 

“Rhys,” She starts, her voice barely audible over his frantic breaths. “Did… Did you think the gun was for you?"

Rhys can only feel so confused by the question, his eyes moving wildly as he finds himself nodding. “Y-You hav-have to be safe- I-I can’t always-always be in the r-right mental s-state-” His words are cut off by a hyperventilating breath, his chest growing tighter. “He- He could come back an-and- I can’t.” 

It’s then Rhys feels his world crumble, his hand landing over his eyes as he feels tears push past his defenses, sliding down his face. He shakes with each broken breath, with each hiccuped sob. 

“I c-can’t hu-hurt you,” Rhys wails, shaking his head as he gives up, his hand falling to his lap. “I-I hurt- I hurt V-Vaughn- I hurt-t Fiona- I can’t… I can’t hurt you.”

Rhys screws his eyes shut, refusing to look up as shame consumes him. There was a reason he was here, a reason he wasn’t with the others. He was too dangerous, he was too cowardly. He was the hero and the villain. He was a savior and a murderer. 

Rhys was shattered, every piece of him disappearing off into different times, never to be reunited again. 

By the time Rhys feels the mattress dip, he’s lost all fight in him. He’s too weak, too cowardly to do anything. To stop Sasha- to keep her from trying to find those pieces again, to tell her they’re gone forever. 

“Rhys,” She whispers, her voice laced with pain. 

And Rhys jumps, nearly an inch in the air with a gasp, as her hand lands on his calf, her eyes, her beautiful green eyes, filling with tears. Her grip is as gentle as always, her lips parting. 

“Rhys,” She starts, her words pained. “Sweetheart-” 

And it’s the wrong thing to say, to call him. Rhys can’t control his sobs as he shakes his head, silently begging the woman to not care, to just leave him the way he was. 

But of course, Sasha never does. 

“-I was never, ever, go-going to hurt you,” She breathes, her eyes still wide and filled with big tears. “N-Nothing you could d-do would ever, ever, make me hurt-t you.” She pauses, squeezing his leg. “I-I’m here, I’m here with y-you because I want to-to be.” 

“B-But I-I’m-” Rhys begins, letting out another broken sob with a shake of his head. “I-I’m a-a murderer, I-I killed, I-I’m– I’m the b-bad guy.” He reaches his hand up to angrily wipe his face, rubbing with all the strength he has. “I-I’m a monster.”

“J-Jack- Jack was i-in my head,” He continues, openly crying. “H-He– He’s-s not go-going to ever l-leave!” 

Sasha shakes her head, scooting even closer to the sobbing man. “Rhys, Rhys y-you killed him,” She stammers out, beginning to speak only for Rhys to cut her off once more.

“H-He’ll come back,” Rhys cries, swallowing loudly. “H-He’ll co-come back and he’ll make me ki-kill you- he said– He sa-said he would.” 

Rhys’ entire being heaves with a shudder, his tears still steadily sliding down his face as he looks away.

“He’ll kill y-you, th-then Fiona, th-then Vaughn,” He whispers hoarsely. “A-And he-he’ll ma-make sure I-I se-see it all.” 

It’s then that Rhys feels the weight on his shoulders shift, an ugly confession feeling more like a doomed prophecy as he shakes in the cold air. He doesn’t have the strength to look at Sasha, to see her disgust and disappointment. To see just how horrified she was with him, just how dangerous he really was.

Maybe she would grab the gun. 

“Rhys,” Sasha speaks, and Rhys nearly jumps out of his skin. He doesn’t turn to look at her, nearly jolting as she calls for him again, finally turning with a sniffle.

“H-He’s gone,” Sasha promises, and she’s much closer, her hand wrapping around Rhys’, squeezing his palm. “You killed him. Y-You got rid o-of him and he won’t ever, ever, hurt y-you again.” 

Her other arm is in full view yet Rhys still jolts at the feeling of it wrapping around his side, pulling him away from the wall and against her chest. And at first Rhys is confused, he doesn’t understand but he shakes and trembles, his eyes wide.

It takes a minute to register that Sasha was now hugging him but when it hits, Rhys falls unequivocally deeper into the unnamed emotion he has for her. 

The touch is fiery yet chilling at once, like being lost in the woods yet coming home at the same time. It’s a beautiful feeling yet it terrifies Rhys to his core. He wants to push her away but hide forever in her arms at the same time. 

“You are Rhys, a-and no one else,” Sasha whispers, her hands wrapped around his waist. “Y-You’re not Jack. You’re not a hero. Not a murderer. You’re Rhys a-and you are safe. You’re with me, Rhys.”

Rhys trembles in her arms, his eyes wide as he stares at the floor, his shaking only growing in intensity. Sasha’s grip doesn’t lessen up but the voice in his head that sounds all too much like a ghost does, so Rhys wraps his arm around her waist, flinching when he comes into contact with her skin. But it’s not enough to push him away.

And like waves crashing onto shore, like the birds rising at dawn, Rhys finds Sasha’s arms to fit perfectly natural around him.

Rhys feels safe for the first time in a very, very, long time. 

Rhys sits besides Sasha at their dining table, the woman scrolling through the same old tablet that Rhys learned was her connection with the outside world. She would read the news and even communicate with others and it was something Rhys was thankful she had.

He had lived in his own head in the Atlas dome and hated every second of it. He wouldn’t wish it on anyone else. 

Besides, Rhys was more focused on the feeling of her palm on his thigh, playing with the seam of his sweatpants idly. 

“Fiona wants to visit,” Sasha starts, pulling Rhys out of his thoughts as she looks over, meeting his gaze. 

Rhys blinks, his brows furrowing. “Oh,” He breathes out, clearing his throat. “Alone?”

“Only if you want her to be,” Sasha replies effortlessly, putting down her tablet as she grabs a hold of his human hand, squeezing his cold palm. 

“When?” Rhys ask tentatively, looking to the door of the house.

“As soon as she can,” Sasha murmurs, her thumb running over his knuckles, her hand still on his thigh. 

Rhys nods, clearing his throat. “The house is a mess,” He mumbles, looking back to Sasha. “But yeah, that’s fine.” 

And Sasha beams, squeezing his hand with as much strength she had. Rhys stared down with his own smile, trying hard not to think about just how close she was. 

So Rhys gets up, hiding his own smile as Sasha lets out a giddied laugh, sprinting up to her bedroom with a childlike energy. He makes his way through the bottom floor, tidying up the few things that were actually out of place. His arms work to sweep away the dust that blew in from the windows. He shuts the windows but keeps the curtains open. It takes all but an hour before a knock erupts from the front door, Rhys stiffening. 

I know I look like shit.  

And Rhys can only smile as the footsteps above erupt again, Sasha practically sprinting, dressed in a black pair of pants and orange sweater, her long braids held together with a bandana. He makes his way to the entryway, standing a good few feet away as Sasha flings the door open.

Rhys’ eyes barely keep up with the flurry of movement, Fiona practically jumping into Sasha’s arms, the pair swinging as they hug each other with all the strength they have, their laughter floating into the air. Rhys holds himself, watching with a big grin as Sasha comes to a stand, her hands on Fiona’s shoulders. Fiona meets his gaze after a beat, gasping. 

“Rhys!” Fiona cries out, quickly making her way over, only to stop.

It doesn’t take long for Rhys to figure out her instinctive older sister urges. So he steps forward, closing the distance with a big hug. 

Fiona doesn’t hesitate to hug him back, Sasha joining in after a beat. It’s sweet and fills Rhys’ chest with a fluttery feeling, trying to focus on that rather than the missing pair of arms around him.

“How have you guys been?!” Fiona explodes, a wide grin covering her lips as she nearly shakes. “Wow- Sash it’s beautiful in here!” 

“Good!” Sasha immediately answers, her hands taking Fiona’s palms. “Come look! We decorated.” 

Smiling, Rhys follows the duo as Sasha takes Fiona from one room to the next, explaining the little things here and there, most of which were already in the home from before their moving in date. He wasn't exactly sure how the house had come about- what it's history was. He's not entirely sure he cares. 

The white and yellow flowers, still bright, sit on the kitchen table in a clear vase. 

Fiona and Sasha’s laughter is easily audible from Rhys’ room as he leaves them after an hour or so, letting the pair catch up. He lies down in bed, his gray sweatpants and black t-shirt helping keep him cool in the warm Pandora air. But his mind drifts, his brows furrowed in a consistent frown as he thinks. 

If Vaughn were here he’d tell him that was dangerous. 

But he isn’t and as much as Rhys has tried to keep it down, he missed the man more than anything in the world. He misses his laughs, his little nerdy mannerism. He misses his hugs and he misses the way he always stood by his side through everything.

Rhys hurt him and Rhys hurt him again. And he’d keep hurting him till he was sure that he was no longer a threat.

The same beautiful lie repeats in his mind.

It’s better this way.

Rhys’ arms twitch as he sits up, the quiet conversation below nowhere near as intriguing as he reaches over into his nightstand. He digs around, finding an old notepad within. and ripping out a page as he crosses his legs, the paper against his knee. 

He stares down at the blank page, swallowing the lump in his throat as he raises one hand to his hair, running a hand through it. He hates the trembling of his fingers as he taps the pen against his thigh, sighing angrily before beginning to scribble his words down.

It takes another hour before Rhys is finished with his note, not a moment too soon. Fiona is standing at the door as he stumbles down the steps, coming to a stop beside Sasha. He waits until she’s done hugging Fiona before holding out the folded note. 

“I-If you don’t mind,” He murmurs, not quite able to meet her gaze.

Fiona nods, taking the note delicately. She places it into the front pocket of her jeans without hesitating, smiling softly. Leaning forward, Rhys gives her a quick yet firm hug goodbye. He barely leans back before Sasha’s hand intertwines with his, raising her other hand to wave goodbye.

Rhys looks to Sasha and she’s already looking up at him, a smile on her lips. 

Those same green eyes look into his mismatched ones with a small smile that said a million things Rhys could never understand. But he tries. And he always will.

“I’m proud of you,” Sasha murmurs, swinging his hand a little. “I know this was different.” 

Rhys nods, swallowing loudly as he looks out the small window beside the door, the world now dark. He tries to ignore the lump in his throat as he speaks, looking to Sasha.

“C-Can I sleep wi-with you tonight?” He stammers out.

He doesn’t have enough time to regret his words as Sasha’s lips split into a wide smile, her eyes glistening. 

“Yes, you can,” She answers. 

“I-I can turn off my arm,” Rhys mumbles, looking away. “Just t-to, you know, stay safe.” 

Sasha reaches for his metallic arm, taking a hold of both hands with a shake of her head. “How about we try tonight with both?” She asks.

And Rhys wants to believe that it’d be as easy as that but he can’t. He can’t risk hurting her. So he shakes his head, swallowing loudly. But Sasha is as understanding as always and nods her head before leading him upstairs. 

Rhys hides that same fluttering feeling in his stomach as he squeezes her palm. 

Rhys is out in the field, digging deep into the dirt, pulling out a few weeds that had managed to find the place to grow between his plants. It’s frustrating that his efforts against the menace fails time and time again, frustrating enough that he complains enough for Sasha to laugh at his frustrated grumbles over dinner. 

It was weird to think that a little over a year ago he was fighting for his life on a base and now he was fighting his own garden. 

Sasha was inside, preparing their dinner as Rhys worked, their usual routine. Sasha handled the majority of indoor work and fixing things that often went wrong in the home, while Rhys handled the garden. He wondered if it were on purpose that things happened this way. 

Rhys feels the hairs on the back of his neck stand up, immediately sitting up on his knees with wide eyes. He spins around to the home, finding Sasha peeking out the window, waving at him. He stumbles to a stand, brushing his hands off once again before making his way out of the garden, before entering the home.

“Dinner’s ready?” Rhys asks, confused. He enters the kitchen, finding Sasha standing up with a wide smile, holding her tablet. “Is everything okay?” 

Sasha nods, stepping over to show the man the tablet. He blinks, looking down to find a photograph of Fiona, the woman standing beside a few barely recognizable vault hunters.

“She works with them now!” Sasha explains, excitedly. “She’s a Crimson Raider!” 

Rhys smiles, his arm wrapping around her shoulders as he looks down at the photo again. “Tell her I said congrats,” He states, "And that she looks more nervous than she probably should be."

Sasha bellows out in a laugh, nodding in agreement. “Thank you! I’ve told her like a million times!” She giggles, leaning her head onto Rhys’ shoulder, already typing up the message. 

Rhys holds her shoulder tighter, smiling at the pure glee that left the woman’s figure. 

The three months since he left were kind to Fiona, Rhys thinks, unable to feel anything but happiness at the thought of the woman finding a home. 

He hopes Vaughn would be finding one too. 

Rhys curls up in Sasha’s arms, the woman holding him tightly, her face nestled in his chest. His arms are both wrapped around her waist, her thin tank-top raised. The heat from the outside is barely moved as the fan above them lazily spins, Rhys’ chin in the woman’s hair. He hopes he's still enough to not wake her, his heart in a frenzy once again. He's much better at fighting the memories that attack his mind, Sasha now only a tap away if he grows too frightened to handle the thoughts on his own.

But Rhys is stronger. More confident. He knows that the moment he wakes up from a nightmare to pull away from all his surroundings, ensuring he won’t hurt anyone. He's already practiced numerous times with Sasha, the majority of his nightmares no longer ending with screams of terror and panicked breaths.

So Rhys only holds the woman tighter, focusing on the feeling of her face against his bare chest. It was rather odd considering he had yet to make the first move and kiss Sasha. But here he laid holding her nearly half naked.

She probably didn’t want him to. 

It doesn’t seem to matter for long as the woman shifts in his arms, Rhys’ eyes widening as he looks down. He settles on holding her tighter, hoping she doesn’t grow uncomfortable and pull away. 

Rhys is nowhere near prepared for Sasha to practically jump up, the top of her head colliding with his nose as she lets out a cry, Rhys flying back with a yelp. He hits the ground, thankfully on his back, a hiss slipping past his lips as he meets Sasha’s horrified face peeking over the side.

“Rhys!”

The man sits up on the hardwood floor, rubbing his back for just a beat before Sasha drops to her knees beside him, her hands immediately cupping his face as she gasps.

“Your face!” She cries, blinking away the wetness in her eyes.

Rhys’ brows furrow as he reaches up to the strange wetness beneath his nose, blood immediately coating the tips of his fingers. He stares for a beat before looking back to her wet and shocked eyes, shaking his head.

“A-Are you okay?” He asks, brows furrowed. “Y-You, l-like screamed.” He doesn’t wait for the woman to speak as he reaches up his non-bloodied hand, holding her face as well. 

Sasha stammers for a beat, shaking her head. “Y-Your nose!”

Within minutes the pair are in the kitchen, the dull light above them lighting the room up as Rhys holds an ice-pack to his nose, his spine leaning against the countertop. Sasha is hugging him tightly, the side of her face against his bare chest as she trembles, Rhys’ human arm around her waist, holding tightly.

“M’fine, Sasha,” He murmurs for what felt like the millionth time, rubbing the dip in her back. “It’s okay.” 

Sasha doesn't reply, still holding onto the man tightly. She sniffles, immediately rubbing at her eyes angrily. 

“Was it a bad dream?” Rhys whispers, shifting his hand up to the back of her head, holding her against his chest in hopes she could feel the steadiness of his heart.

The room fills with an anticipated stillness, Rhys holding still as he waits for the woman to speak. He doesn’t wait long.

“Y-You didn’t g-get out of Helios,” She whispers, her voice uncharacteristically small. 

Rhys swallows slowly, staring at the clock that hung on the wall across from him. He feels the woman’s grip around him tighten, her figure shaking in the warm air. 

“Y-You didn’t a-and–” She chokes on her own words, shaking her head as she firmly plants her face into his chest. 

The silence goes on for another moment, Rhys looking down at the woman before shifting. He moves the hand that held the ice pack, placing it onto the countertop behind him before moving to hold her with both arms. He wraps one arm just over her lower back, the other around the middle of her back as he places his face in her hair, hunching over a bit with little regard to the discomfort. 

Sasha sniffles before looping both arms around Rhys’ neck, her eyes shutting. Her hands clasp around one another, resting over the ridges on the back of his neck. 

Rhys swallows loudly, pursing his lips in her hair as he holds her tightly. He focuses on the familiar smell that spoke Sasha, rubbing the soft cotton of her tank-top with both hands, trying his best to ground her in the present.

“I’m not going anywhere,” He murmurs, his voice soft. “Not without y-you by my side.” He places a long kiss into her hair, his eyes shutting. 

“Nothing will ever take me away from you,” He whispers, feeling brave. “Not t-today, not tomorrow, never. I-I came back to you.” He pulls back, slowly moving his hands to cup her face, wiping away the tears that slide down her cheeks with his thumb. Rhys leans close, resting his forehead against hers, shutting his eyes again. 

“I-I’m so-sorry for a-almost breaking your nose,” Sasha croaks. 

Rhys laughs, his figure shaking as he rubs his forehead against hers. “It’s not broken, you’re b-being almost as dramatic as me,” He replies, relief flooding his chest when the woman snorts. “But I do think I deserve breakfast in bed tomorrow.” 

Sasha laughs once more, pulling back. She wipes her face for good measure using her arm, looking up to Rhys with big eyes. 

Rhys offers a smile, his arms draped around her lower back, holding her against him. He watches as she reaches up to his face, brushing away the now dried blood hanging on the tip of his nostril with a sad hum. 

“I’m really sorry, genuinely,” She breathes out, swallowing slowly. “I’ve n-never hurt Fiona wh-when I wake up-” 

“Accident prone,” Rhys interrupts, shaking his head. “You know I am, and this was just that, an accident.” He reaches to fix the straps of her tank-top, raising them before holding her lower back again. Heat blossoms the back of his neck as he finds Sasha’s gaze searching his bare chest, losing any momentum he had. 

“Garden works been good on y-you,” She teases, watching as Rhys’ entire face becomes red, his eyes wide as her palm rests over his abdomen. 

Rhys clears his throat, trying to find an excuse that would deter the conversation as he feels his stomach flip, that fluttering feeling returning ten-fold. His heart races as Sasha moves her hand from his abdomen, placing her palms on both sides of his jaw. She meets his gaze, her swirling green eyes filled with something both familiar and new. 

He doesn't have enough time to prepare himself as Sasha stands on the tips of her toes, reaching up before interlocking her lips with his. 

And Rhys freezes, he freezes for a moment, his eyes wide as he takes a second to realize that this is really happening. His heart races, his eyes finally screwing shut as he leans into the kiss, his arms around Sasha tightening. 

The moment is nowhere near long enough as Sasha pulls away first, her eyes locking back on Rhys’, her palms still holding his face. 

Rhys stares, his heart nearly giving out as he forces himself to live in the moment- that his dream is coming true. He stares into her eyes, waiting for the next move, fear growing in his throat at the idea that she regretted it all.

“Was that okay?” Sasha asks, genuine concern in her words.

Rhys wordlessly nods, taking a moment to gather himself before stammering. “C-Can we do i-it again?” 

It is Sasha’s turn to nod, her lips pulled into a wide grin as she leans back up, placing another kiss onto his lips. Rhys doesn’t hesitate to lean into the touch as he holds her tighter, their kiss growing into multiples. The pain in his neck is growing more noticeable, an agitated grunt leaving him as he pulls back from Sasha.

Rhys doesn’t give the woman a moment to recover as he promptly lifts her up, turning around to place her onto the countertops. He stands between her legs, his arms wrapping around to hold the outside of her thighs as Sasha’s fingers dig into his hair, her other hand on the side of his neck before leaning forward and taking a hold of Rhys’ lips once again. 

Sasha’s hand reaches to the back of his neck as she pulls Rhys even closer, their kisses growing more fervious. The two stay locked around one another, only stopping when Rhys begins to see stars, leaning back to breathe. His chest rises and falls quickly, Sasha looking just as out of breath as she smiles.

“I-I’ve be-been wanting to do that for a long ti-time,” Rhys breathes out, his eyes wide.

Sasha chuckles softly, holding the man’s face again. “Me too.” 

Rhys blinks, confused. “W-With me?” He asks, his voice a pitch higher.

There is no way in the world Sasha had actually liked him for anytime longer than maybe a week. It doesn’t make sense. Sasha is brilliant and beautiful and had a million qualities Rhys could never name.

Rhys was… Rhys.

“No, with that old fruit vendor,” Sasha replies, raising a brow before rolling her eyes, leaning forward to place a quick kiss on Rhys’ soft lips. “Yes, with you.” 

Rhys’ shaking figure deflates with a laugh, leaning past her to rest his face in her shoulder, hugging her tightly. Her arms instantly wrap around him, placing another kiss on his neck. 

“What’d I do t-to deserve you?” Rhys mumbles out, holding her tight. 

Sasha is quiet, placing a trail of kisses along his neck, gently messing with his hair before speaking onto his warm skin.  

“Exist,” She murmurs. 

And Rhys laughs, his whole figure shaking with the chime as Sasha takes to placing more kisses along his neck, moving to his shoulder, kissing the skin alongside the metal appendage. 

“I’m serious,” She whispers, leaning back with a frown, holding his face. “Being so damn hot also helped.” 

Rhys snorts. “Coming from you?” He breathes out, shaking his head before the pair fell into a series of laughs. He pulls the woman back to his chest, holding her tightly as he gently rocks back and forth, his eyes shut. 

The pair stayed wrapped around one another long into the night, the morning star greeting them. 

If one were to tell Rhys a few years ago that one of his favorite pastimes would be gardening, he would have thrown his head back in a laugh. He would have looked to Vaughn with that same disbelieving look, rolling his eyes before going back to whatever corporate bullshit he thought was important.

Rhys is glad that part of him is long dead.

The Pandora sun and rain had done its job, blossoming multiple bunches of the fruits and vegetables that they had planted in the fenced in plot of land. Sasha had already left for the nearby town, selling the half they wouldn’t need for food. 

Rhys hung back, focusing on preparing the plot for the seeds they still had left over. His hands dig deep in the ground, pushing past the various worms and leaves with his hands. The warm sun beats down on him from above, its warmth more welcome than usual. The various birds and wild animals squawk in the distance, a few Rakks fighting atop one of the canyon’s with their noises echoing through the valley. 

It is a weird type of peaceful. 

The sound of an engine quickly pulls Rhys out of the ground, the man standing up on his knees as his eyes grow wide, looking in the direction of the noise. His heart races at the sight of an approaching Outrunner, the all too familiar feeling of fear grappling his stomach. 

Rhys isn’t entirely sure what to think of the incoming guests, his legs carrying him to the front of the house, locking the gate behind him before making his way to the rundown porch. He stands on the creaking wood, trying to think of the closest thing that would be a weapon. 

At least Sasha had her gun.

The vehicle comes to a stop just a few feet away from the home, Rhys standing up straight as he watches two people he barely recognized jump out, his eyes widening.

Vault Hunters?  

The red-headed vault hunter he recognizes from the celebrations walked up first, her hand on her hip as a much skinnier man walked beside her, his face hidden behind a thick pair of goggles, a large sniper on his back as a small bird-like creature sits on his shoulder. 

“Rhys?” The woman calls out, coming to a stop just in front of the home, looking him over.  

Oh boy.

“What can I do for you?” Rhys speaks, his arms crossing over his chest, hoping to hide the inkling of fear in his stomach.

The taller man shifts, his hands on his hips as he frowns. “We didn’t know you had a certain someone implanted into your head,” He speaks.

It is as if all the air around Rhys disappeared, a certain buzzing erupting in his head as his throat goes dry. He blinks hard, hoping to push away the onset dizziness he felt, his shaking hands thankfully hidden from view.

“You didn’t think it was important to tell us about Handsome Jack being implanted in you?” The red-haired woman speaks, stepping closer.

Rhys can't help himself as he steps back, eyes wide, flickering between the two.

“Your little friend spilled the beans,” The man adds with a shake of his head.

Fiona?!

“How about we go inside?” The woman speaks, walking forward and past Rhys, pushing the door open. Rhys hesitates before following after her, the man behind him following immediately, shutting the door before locking it.

Rhys follows the other woman through his home, watching as she leans against a nearby counter, gesturing for Rhys to sit down at the kitchen table.

“I’ll… stand,” Rhys states, swallowing the dryness in his throat.

“So, what’s the deal, man?” The vault hunter speaks, standing in the doorway. “You didn’t think it was important to tell us you had that bastard implanted in your head?”

“He couldn’t do anything,” Rhys replies, trying to keep his anger out of his words. “He was a termite. Nothing more, nothing less.” 

“Is that why you dropped Helios?” 

Rhys hesitates, losing a bit of his resolve. “He got into Helios’ mainframe,” He mutters, not quite able to meet their gazes. “So I crashed it, yes. It was that or he’d take complete control over the base and everyone on Pandora would be fucked.” 

Silence filled the small kitchen, the buzzing of the fridge and old light the only noise in the space. Rhys shuffles his feet, growing a bit more courageous in the moment. 

“I ripped him out of me,” Rhys continues, looking between both vault hunters. “Literally. He was in my Echo-eye and my arm, I ripped them off and he’s gone for good.” 

Rhys looks away, holding himself tighter as he tried his hardest to hold back the shaking of his figure. His chest feels as if it were going to burst at any moment, his eyes locked onto the ground as he awaits his punishment. 

“You’re sure he’s gone?” The woman speaks, jolting Rhys’ gaze up to her. “Never to return?”

Rhys nods.

“And we just gotta take your word for it?” The man questions, leaning off the doorframe. “You don’t got any evidence to prove that your lil’ corporate asshole isn't still in your head? That you didn’t keep him hiding around?” 

“Why would I kill almost everyone I’ve ever known just to keep that termite in my head?” Rhys hisses, narrowing his eyes. “I destroyed my own home, killed thousands of people, and lost my own eye and arm.” 

“You genocidal maniacs have never cared about people,” The man replies with a sneer. “You all murder thousands-” 

“Mordecai,” The woman interrupts, her frown bleeding into her words. “Enough.” She steps forward, looking over Rhys before meeting the other man’s gaze. “Fiona wouldn’t lie.”

“Then why did you come out here?” Rhys sneers, his hands curling into fists. “If you trust her-” 

“We wanted to hear it from you,” The woman replies, her hand back on her hip. 

Rhys can understand that. 

“I made sure he was dead,” He speaks, his voice much quieter. “There’s no more AI’s of him, no more little hidden ‘saves’. Nothing. He’s dead and I made sure of it.”

Rhys’ frown falters, looking between the two before nearly jumping at the sound of a loud bang from the front door, his eyes wide. 

“Rhys!? Rhys!” 

“Sasha!” The man cries, pushing past Mordecai without another care. He unlocks the door, swinging it open. 

Rhys doesn't have a second to prepare as the woman all but jumps onto him, hugging him tightly, her right hand carrying her pistol. She pulls away, looking to the two near-strangers, trying her best to hide Rhys behind her much smaller figure.

“Relax, lady, we didn’t lay a hand on him,” Mordecai mutters, staring down at the woman.

“Get the fuck out of my house,” Sasha demands, her voice icey. 

“We were leaving, Sasha,” The red-haired woman speaks, frowning a bit. “You know Fiona-” 

“I don’t care , Lilith,” Sasha snaps, “Get. Out.” 

Rhys stands behind Sasha, her grip around his wrist growing painful as the two vault hunters shuffle out of the home. She doesn't hesitate to slam the door behind them, staring through the window as they drove off. 

“Sash-”

“Why did you let them in!?” Sasha cries, spinning around to face Rhys with wide eyes. “Th-They could have hurt you- D-Did they?!”

Rhys shakes his head quickly, holding her upper arms. “Sasha, I’m fine,” He assures, squeezing her arms. “Breathe, it’s okay.” 

“No it’s not!” Sasha all but shouts, staring up at the man. “Th-They could have hurt you! You didn’t know what th-they wanted.” Her chest heaves with a panic breath as she curls her hands into fists, her eyes burning.

“They just wanted to make sure he was dead,” Rhys whispers, reaching a hand up to brush one of her locks behind her ear. “I promise, they didn’t-”

“It’s not their business!” Sasha replies, shaking her head. “You’re not some- some criminal to be interrogated at their will!” Her chest heaves with a panicked, angry breath, her eyes locked on Rhys’. “I’m serious!” 

“I know, babe,” Rhys murmurs, leaning forward to rest his forehead against hers. “But I’m okay. We just talked.” 

Sasha sighs, shifting to hug the man, her face nestling back in his chest as she holds him tightly shutting her eyes.

“Fiona called, sh-she told me she messed up a-and they were coming for you,” She breathes out, her hands bunching up the back of his shirt.

“They didn’t seem mad,” Rhys whispers, his hand in the back of the woman’s scalp. “Just wanted answers. And I gave them. So they won’t be around for a while.” 

Sasha sighs, not quite ready to let go. “She was panicked, I-I thought they would h-hurt you.” She squeezes him tighter, tilting to rest the bottom of her chin on his chest, meeting his gaze. 

Rhys shakes his head, forcing a smile onto his lips, deciding it is better to take the easier route. “They wouldn’t dare, not if they knew you were around,” He murmurs, holding her face with his human palm, brushing her cheekbone. “You’d eat them alive.” 

Sasha snorts, looping her arms around his neck, her hand curling in the root of his hair as she raises a brow. “Yeah, you’re right,” She begins, smirking. Her hand brushes his hair for a beat, focusing on the man in her arms for another beat before speaking.

“You need a haircut,” She teases. 

Rhys chuckles softly, resting his forehead against hers. “I’ll get on it, captain.”

“Let me do it,” Sasha breathes, growing excited. “I promise I won’t ruin your hair. I’ll make it extra cute.” 

Rhys blinks, unsure before giving in with a smile. “Fine, but if you give me a mullet I’m going bald,” He states, rubbing his nose against hers.

“Deal,” Sasha replies, smiling into the kiss she gave him. 

There were more nights than Rhys would have liked where he felt that his thoughts were not his own. Where sleep would evade him, the air too suffocating around his very soul as he fought the demons in his mind. 

At least he isn’t alone with those thoughts anymore.

Rhys feels Sasha’s soft fingers trail up and down the ridges of his spine, the dark room illuminated by the candle on the nightstand beside their bed. She was sitting behind him, her pale blue nightgown reflecting the soft light of the candle as Rhys nearly doubles over, both hands in his hair with his eyes screwed shut. His chest heaves every few seconds with a shaking breath, occasionally muttering to himself angrily all the while Sasha sits silently, her hand the only constant in Rhys’ mind. 

‘Did you ever tell her there were families up there, Rhysie?’ 

“D-Do we-we have water on th-the nightstand?” Rhys stammers out, his voice scratchier than he could ever recall. He hears a quick ‘mhmm’ from the woman behind him, followed immediately by the plastic bottle landing on the mattress beside him.

Rhys grabs at the plastic desperately, raising it to his lips before taking in a large gulp, screwing it shut after a second before tossing it behind him. He settles his hands back in his hair, forcing out a long breath as he repeats the same mantra in his head again.

He’s dead and you killed him. It’s just you. 

His whole figure trembles with a shiver, his bare upper body igniting in goosebumps despite the warmth in the air. Sasha’s fingers continue trail up and down his back.

It was a rather sad sight. 

“I-I’m fi-fine,” Rhys forces out, shaking his head as he digs into his hair. “I-It’s Rh-Rhys.” He forces himself to swallow the lump in his throat, opening his mouth again. “I-I’m in- I’m in control.” 

“That’s right,” Sasha replies, her voice a calm in the storm that was Rhys’ mind.

Rhys forces himself to nod, dropping his hands from his hair and refusing to turn around and face the woman behind him. He both loves and hates the fact she was present for this whole catastrophe. He couldn't shield her from the monstrosity he truly was with her right beside him.

It was hard considering just how well Sasha knew him. 

Sasha’s other palm lands on Rhys’ lower back, this time not startling the man as she scoots closer. Her hand moves to his side, wrapping her arm around his lower back before slowly pulling him to her chest, her chin nestling into his hair. 

Rhys holds his cries in as best he can. He still shakes violently.

“I have you, Rhys,” Sasha murmurs, holding him still. “No one will hurt you and you’re not going to hurt anyone. It’s okay.” She pauses to place a kiss in his scalp, shutting her eyes. “It’s just us, baby.” 

Rhys nods, holding himself as he keeps his eyes screwed shut, refusing to admit to himself just how safe he feels in Sasha’s arms. 

“Talk to me, Rhys,” Sasha breathes out, promptly frightening the man further into himself.

The room grows silent, Rhys going still as he fights the various urges in his mind. He struggles between shunning Sasha away and confessing his whole heart out. Between yearning for it all to end or fighting every cursed moment. 

The lines blur more and more every second. 

Rhys feels his chest cave in as Sasha’s thumb brushes his jawline, his heart breaking as he turns to face her with big eyes. Her hands are holding his face in both palms, her lips only an inch away before landing softly between his eyes and once more on the tip of his nose. He can only dwell in the touch for a moment before she turns his face, placing a kiss onto his temple port as well.

It's softer than anything he thinks he'll ever really deserve.

Rhys goes still, nearing on terrified. He stares, meeting Sasha’s gaze as she shakes her head slowly, his heartbreak mirrored right back.

“You’re not what your brain tries to convince you of,” Sasha whispers, mere inches away. “You’re not a monster, you never have been and you never will be, Rhys.” 

Rhys’ gaze falls to his lap immediately, his heart beginning to race as he thinks about all the untold horror stories he's been hiding. He thinks about the children who lived on Helios, he thinks about his old friends, the few he had, and he thinks about-

“F-Families l-lived u-up there,” He whimpers, his eyes screwing shut. “B-Brothers an-and sisters a-and moms-” He chokes on a sob, biting down on his lip as he pushes to hide his face in Sasha’s collarbone.  

“I k-killed them.” 

Sasha stays quiet, her hand back in his hair as Rhys’ figure shakes from the sheer effort of holding in his sobs.

“I-I haven’t- I haven't e-even met all the fam-families of those I ki-killed” Rhys stammers, desperate to make himself more of a villain than he ever truly was. “A-And Vaughn- h-he didn’t- he never mentioned that- that I-I ki-killed s-so many!” 

Another choked sob leaves his chest, his arms wrapping around his own stomach, holding himself. 

“H-He hates m-me, h-he’ll always h-hate me,” Rhys weeps, his words barely recognizable. “M-My best fr-friend in the wh-whole fucking galaxy a-and h-he hates me!”

Rhys shakes his head, trying and failing to pull out of Sasha’s hold, the woman hugging him to her chest with an even tighter hold. He can just barely recognize the soft, loving, voice that belonged to her and her alone. It falls on near deaf ears as Rhys finds his mind shattering.

He gives up soon after that, drowning in a pit of tears and ravaging sobs that leave him quivering in Sasha’s arms. He doesn’t have it in him to pull away from the woman, his tears sliding down his face in rapid succession. 

Rhys hides from his own mind in Sasha’s arms, praying he'll never have to leave.

The sun slowly sets over the farm, casting a hue of purple, reds and oranges over the world around them. It's one of the most peaceful times of the day, one Rhys spends with Sasha at the end of their busy routines. He sits against the pillar of the old porch, the wood below him creaking with each movement as Sasha sits between his thighs, her back against his chest and a fruit from their garden in her mouth.

Rhys is sure this is the closest thing to heaven he'll ever get.

“I never got sunsets like these back home,” Sasha murmurs, biting into her fruit soon after. “Not this pretty.” 

Rhys hums out a note of agreement, the arm loosely wrapped around her stomach tightening a bit. “Seems a bit cliche now that I can actually watch the sunset,” He states, focused on her alone. “Beautiful.”

“I guess you never really got to watch a sunset up there,” Sasha breathes, turning her head to look at him. “Is it what you imagined?” 

Rhys thinks for a beat before leaning forward, placing a quick kiss between her eyes. “I’ve seen prettier things,” He answers, a smirk growing on his lips. 

“Ha ha,” Sasha giggles, elbowing him gently before settling back against his chest. “You really grew a lot more bold after becoming my boyfriend.” 

Rhys stiffens, his eyes widening.

Boyfriend!?

He figures his sudden shift is easily noticeable as Sasha spins around, her face a slight shade of pink. 

“I-I’m your- your boyfriend?” Rhys squeaks out. 

Sasha’s eyes flicker to the side, not quite able to meet his gaze as the flush on her cheeks deepen. “I-I mean, I thought that but-but I don’t want you to think you have to be-” 

“You like me that much!?”  

Sasha blinks, meeting his gaze with furrowed brows. “What… did you think…?”

“I thought m-maybe ‘cause you’re stuck w-with me, I don’t know!” Rhys stammers, shaking his head. “You- Me?!”

Sasha tilts her head, leaning forward with a frown. “Stuck- Rhys, I chose to be here,” She states, her hand curling around his wrist. “The only thing I didn’t choose here, is liking you- which before you start, is a good thing!” 

Rhys stares for another beat, his mouth agape. “I-I can’t be your boyfriend!” He nearly cries out, shaking his head. “I-I’m- you could do so much better! You deserve better!” 

Sasha's frown only deepens. “I deserve a million dollar mansion in New Opportunity,” She begins, her brows still furrowed. “And I deserve a boyfriend who I like, not a random guy I have to pretend to like for a job.” She puts down her fruit, wrapping her stickier hand around Rhys’ other wrist with big eyes.

“Rhys, if you don’t want to be my boyfriend, that’s okay,” Sasha murmurs, her voice firm. “But if you do like me, and you want to be in a relationship with me, I have no gripes.” 

Rhys blinks, swallowing slowly. “Y-You actually li-like me?” He mumbles out, still shocked.

Sasha nods firmly, squeezing his wrists. “I really, really, like you, Rhys.” 

Rhys can’t contain the relieved laughter that breaks past his lips. “I-I really, really, like you too!” He cries, throwing his arms around her, hugging her tightly. They giggle in each others arms, melting into one another. Sasha's the first to pull away, placing a soft kiss on his lips, her hand bunching up the side of his hair as she climbs up and onto his lap as his heavy arms wrap around her lower back.

“None of that dumb thinking anymore,” She teases, lips hovering over his. “I’m not stuck with you, I want to be here. And I want to be your girlfriend.” 

Rhys nods slowly, clearing his throat. “I-I wanna be your boyfriend,” He replies, laughing halfway through his sentence. “Holy fuck- You like me!” 

“Way to pay attention,” Sasha giggles, smiling. “I’ve liked you for a while, Rhys.” 

It doesn’t quite make sense. 

“Oh,” He breathes out, blinking for a beat. “I-I’ve liked you fo-for a while too, a really long while.” He pauses, securing her against his hips. “You really want to be my girlfriend,” He repeats, his voice quiet. 

Sasha smiles, rolling her eyes as she slips back down to sit between his legs, her back resting against his chest with his arms immediately looping around to hold her. “First decree as your girlfriend,” She begins, looking out to the sunset. “Is getting rid of your ugly socks.” 

“Ugly!” Rhys cries, his offense only growing as Sasha giggles. “They’re not ugly! You just don’t know fashion!” 

“Fashion isn’t the word I’d use.” She shakes her head against him, picking up her fruit once more, raising it to his mouth as he takes a bite. “Fine, you keep the socks but you’re seeing a doctor about your snoring problem.” 

Rhys shakes with a laugh, leaning forward to place a kiss in her hair, holding her tighter. “Fine,” He sighs, “Only for you.” 

The woman giggles, finishing up her fruit before leaning deeper against the his chest, sighing happily. She looks out to the sunset, staring at the vibrant colors as she idly messes with the man’s fingers. 

Rhys rests his cheek into Sasha’s hair, shutting his eyes as he lets the last of the sun’s rays shine over him.

Rhys holds the tablet in his shaking hands, curling up tight on the cool tile flooring of the kitchen. He's doused in darkness, save for the one source of light in his palms dancing over his features. His thumb hovers over the call button, heart slamming in his chest as he finds himself ready to vomit. 

Sasha had given him the okay to call from her device, even going as far as to go to bed early so he’d have privacy. That doesn’t mean Rhys was anywhere near brave enough to actually use it. 

The blaring white font bleeds into Rhys’ eyes as he stares down at the device, his throat dry. His ears are filled with a painful buzzing, his head spinning with each deep breath he takes as he struggles to gather the very much needed bravery to call.

You miss him more than anything in this world. 

That was an understatement.

Rhys screws his eyes shut, nowhere near courageous enough to see his actions unfold. 

The dull ringing of a dial disrupts the quietness of the kitchen, Rhys physically flinching at the noise as he keeps his eyes screwed shut. The device continues to ring, eventually leading to Rhys opening his eyes, staring down with wide eyes.

“You’ve reached Vaughn and I couldn’t pick up! Please leave a message and-”

Rhys hangs up promptly, the robotic nearly fraudulent sound of his best friend’s voice nearly sending him over the edge. He closes out of the screen, pushing the device onto the ground before screwing his eyes shut, resting his head against the wall of the kitchen.

He doesn’t even want to talk to you. Not after you aband-

The violent ringing of the tablet beside Rhys jolts him a good few feet in the air, the device vibrating against the tile floor as he stares at it. He feels his throat instantly dry up, picking up the tablet with wide eyes before bringing his shaking finger over the green button as he swallows.

“H-Hello?”

Rhys nearly throws up.

“V-Vaughn?” 

The sound of shuffling erupts over the call, followed almost immediately by a desperately human cry. 

“Rhys- Rhys is that you?” 

Rhys nods, berating himself silently as he forces himself to speak. “Y-Yeah, bud, i-it’s me.” He pauses to clear his throat, sniffling. “I-It’s Rhys.” 

Silence floods the call, each ticking echo of the hanging clock serving as another punch to his stomach, his eyes screwed shut in horrified anticipation.

“Rhys- Rhys I fucking miss you dude,” Vaughn sniffles over the phone, clearing his throat soon after. “Wh-What- How are y-you?”

Rhys lets out a cry, reaching up to angrily rub his face, hating just how blurry his vision is. “I-I’m good,” He stammers, swallowing loudly. “I-I’ve been-been doing so-some gardening.” 

“Gardening!? A-Are you serious?” 

“Y-Yeah- I-I’m d-doing a lot of gardening st-stuff,” Rhys answers, sniffling again. “I-It’s like, fr-fruits and so-some vegetables.” 

“Dude- That’s si-sick!” Vaughn replies, his voice wavering dangerously despite the obvious excitement in his words. “Do y-you like it?”

Rhys hums out a ‘mhmm’ , wiping his nose as he stares down at the kitchen floor. “H-How’re y-you?” He asks, his voice breaking dangerously. “I-I mis-miss you.”

It’s a sob on the other end that nearly sends Rhys into a volatile breakdown, only for a voice to crackle over the other side.

“I-I miss you a-a lot too, man,” Vaughn whispers, his voice cracking. 

Rhys’ chest hitches with a sob as he nods to himself, holding his knees against his chest. “I-I’m so-sorry, V-Vaughn,” He cries, his voice breaking, “I-I’m so-sorry for everything-”

“Rhys don’t–”

“No, V-Vaughn, I-I ne-need to,” Rhys interrupts, shaking his head. “I-I’m sorry f-for hitting y-you, for-for not telling y-you about Jack.” He stops, much against his own will as a hiccup leaves his throat, reaching up to rub his eye. “I-I’m sorry a-about Helios. A-And- And-”

He chokes on a sob, his hand covering his mouth as he sobbed.

“I-I’m sorry fo-for leaving.” 

The strange buzzing returns tenfold, Rhys flinching at the silence as he tries his hardest to stifle his sobs. 

“Rhys? Y-You still there, bro?”

Rhys rubs his nose and eye, sniffling loudly as he stifles another sob into his palm. “Y-Yeah.” He barely registers the string of sniffles that erupts on the other side of the call, his eyes wide as he awaits the incoming yelling from the man.

“I-I never bl-blamed you, Rhys,” Vaughn says, and Rhys nearly passes out.

“Rhys, you-you had no choice i-in half the things y-you did,” Vaughn continues, his voice wet and filled with tears despite his fiery tone. “I-I don’t ha-hate you, dude. You… You’re my best fucking fr-friend, Rhys. You’re family.”

Rhys shakes his head, preparing a list of confessions and crimes but Vaughn doesn’t give him the opportunity.

“I-I’ve never h-hated y-you or blamed yo-you or anything like that, Rhys,” Vaughn practically sobs out. “Y-You’re my best friend and-and-”

“I lo-love you, Rhys.”

Rhys can’t quite hold his relief in any longer, sobbing into his palm as he holds his legs tighter around himself, ignoring the probable bruising he was doing onto himself. 

“I love you, ma-man, and I-I fuck-fucking miss you. I-I’m worried-”

“D-Don’t be,” Rhys stammers out, hiccuping. “I-I’m s-safe, I-I’m ok-okay.” He pauses, clearing his throat. “I-I have a-a gi-girlfriend.”

Vaughn laughs and it’s almost enough to make Rhys get up and run all the way back to Sanctuary.

“Really? F-Finally?!”

Rhys joins in with a chuckle, wiping his face again. “Y-Yeah, t-turns out Sasha l-likes me b-back,” He mumbled.

“No shit! I tol-told you so!” Vaughn laughs again, his voice still wet. “I can’t believe it, did y-you–”

“Do-Don’t eve-even say it,” Rhys all but shouts, falling into a fit of giggles. “Sh-She’s perfect, l-like too g-good for me.” 

“Shut up-p,” Vaughn replies, snorting. 

Silence falls over the two, their sniffles and hiccups the only noise for a long moment. Rhys sighs, shuddering as he rests his head back against the wall, closing his eyes. 

“H-Hey, Vaughn,” He breathes out, waiting for the man to respond before continuing. “I-I love y-you too, a-a lot.”

Vaughn sniffles loud enough to be heard over the call, followed by some more shuffling.

“I-I know,” He replies back quietly. “I-I just– just please promise m-me you’re t-taking care of-f yourself.”

 “I-I am,” Rhys assures quickly, “I-I swear. I-I’ve e-even got something like abs now.” 

“No way, dude! I-I’m supposed to b-be the buff one! Stung by bees, remember?!”

Rhys laughs, his shoulders shaking as he smiles through his words. “I’ll lose it all wh-when I come back, don’t worry,” He replies, still smiling through his tears. “Just f-for you, like a r-real bro.” 

Vaughn laughs again, this time ending with a loud yawn. Rhys blinks, looking up to the clock with wide eyes.

“Sh-Shit, I-I didn’t realize i-it was so late,” Rhys mutters, sitting up. 

“N-No, I-I’m not tired, dude-”

Rhys feels a pang of guilt at the desperation in Vaughn’s voice, swallowing slowly. 

“V-Vaughn, go-go sleep,” He murmurs, shutting his eyes. “I-I’ll… I’ll see you so-soon.” 

Silence fills the kitchen once more, Rhys’ bracing himself for the man’s words. 

“Promise?”

Rhys nods once more, forcing himself to speak again. 

“I-I promise,” He whispers, his chest hitching with a heavy breath. “I-I’ll s-see you soon, r-really so-soon.” 

Vaughn is quiet again, the line interrupted only by the man’s sniffling. Rhys waits, thinking of what he can say to make him feel better, before his voice crackles through again. 

“Okay, Rhys,” He speaks, his voice shaking. “I-I’ll be w-waiting.”

Rhys swallows the lump in his throat, nodding once again as he hugs his knees tighter. “S-See you l-later, Vaughn,” He breathes into the phone. 

“See yo-you soon.”

Rhys is the first to hang up, holding the tablet to his chest for a long beat. He forces himself to calm down, taking in deep, stabilizing breaths as he hugs himself with as much strength as he can manage.

It takes an upwards of ten minutes for his shakiness to finally reside, Rhys forcing himself onto his feet, placing the tablet onto the table, his weak legs carrying him up to the bedroom. He shimmies through the left over door, moving to climb onto the mattress as quietly as possible. He crawls under the sheet before scooting over to Sasha, pulling her back to his chest as he wraps his arms around her, tangling his legs with hers. He places a kiss on her bare shoulder, hiding his face in her neck as she holds his hands at her front. 

Rhys shuts his eyes, taking a long time to fall asleep. 

The bustling noise from the kitchen is intertwined with Sasha and Fiona’s combined laughter, the two preparing a large dinner to the best of their ability. Fresh fruits and vegetables rest on the dinner table as they take turns chopping them up before seasoning them and cooking them. Sasha reads off the instructions for a cake rather confusedly, Fiona trying to correct her as she goes along.

Rhys… Rhys is trying to stop his violent shaking. 

He is thankful that Fiona had held onto one of his suits, the woman bringing it with her as he slides into each clothing. His shirt fits a bit more snug around his arms, bringing a weird smile to his face at the idea of having some form of muscle. Rhys moves to run a hand through his hair, stealing Sasha’s comb to brush out the less cooperative strands. 

Rhys has already cleaned up the house, multiple times at that, reorganizing and organizing the same few items until he was satisfied. Sasha had thankfully let him do what he felt was appropriate, despite Fiona’s teasing. 

‘Come on, Rhysie! We both know he hates–’

“Rhys, can you come down for a second!” Sasha called out. 

Rhys doesn’t hesitate to run down the steps, stepping into the kitchen in his black suit. He immediately grows red at Fiona’s whistle, his eyes widening as he looks to Sasha, the woman busy admiring his clothing.

“Okay, maybe the wardrobe doesn’t need to be changed,” Sasha murmurs, her hand resting on his stomach as she smiles. 

Rhys clears his throat, beaming at the woman. “Told you, I’m a master of aesthetic,” He states rather proudly. 

Fiona booms into a laugh, nearly keeling over with the bowl in her hands.

“I think you look great,” Sasha agrees, standing on the tips of her feet to place a quick kiss on Rhys’ forehead. She leans back, tucking in the pockets of his slacks with a happy smile. “Can you help us get this jar open? Fiona screwed it back shut and of course now she can’t get it open.” 

“I promise you he did it when we weren’t looking,” Fiona cries out, stirring the contents of her bowl. “He just has you wrapped around his finger, you’re too blind to see it!” 

“It’s the other way around,” Sasha points out, smirking. “Ain’t that right, baby?” 

Rhys only rolls his eyes, taking the jar out of her hands. He uses his metal arm to unscrew the top easily, handing it back to her with a soft smile. “Anything for you.” 

Fiona audibly gags, sending Sasha into a fit of giggles. She blows Rhys a kiss before turning back to the countertop, unloading the contents within into the bowl. Rhys watches with a gentle look, leaning against the doorway, as her hands delicately hold the vase of flowers, moving it a safe distance away from Fiona’s volatile creation. 

It makes Rhys happier than he could ever articulate. 

Rhys steps away from the kitchen, deciding to leave the two women to their own devices as he looks out the living room window, peering into the garden he had curates himself. He eyes the various plants and vegetables he had watered and cared for over the last few months, already setting out his plans for what he’d need to do tomorrow to ensure their survival. 

“How long have you kept these flowers?” Fiona asks from the kitchen, calling Rhys’ attention back.

“Rhys handles them,” Sasha answers, nonchalantly. “He’s never had a single plant die since we’ve been here.” 

Rhys smiles a bit at that, his chest filled with a fuzzy warmth. 

The man’s legs carry him back to the kitchen, a soft smile on his lips as he tucks his fingers into his pockets, peering in. He finds Sasha to be nearly shoulder to shoulder with Fiona, the older of the two chopping up more food. Sasha stands over the stove, stirring a large pot with a keen eye, her brows furrowed as she looks over the four bowls on the dining table.

Rhys never wants the fuzzy feeling in his chest to leave. 

It’s a knock at the door that startles the trio still, Rhys’ eyes wide as saucers. The duo in front of him spin to look at him, Fiona sporting an excited smile while Sasha’s eyes twinkle. 

“I-I got it,” Rhys stammers out quickly, ducking out of the kitchen. He pulls his hands out of his pockets, the shaking of his fingers barely phasing him as he reached for the door. 

Rhys smiles and the sun smiles back.