Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Kerry woke up, and for a moment the shadows of old memories haunted him. Then the tacky wood flooring and silver silk sheets registered, realizing he was home, their home, and that the other side of the bed was still warm, if empty. 

The distant sound of the shower running instantly reassured him, and as he made his way out of bed and down the stairs, he was stopped dead in his tracks by the vision of a ghost. 

A strange mix of two people, sitting on the chair with one of his guitars and a shadow on their face. It was his lover’s face, his sad eyes, his body, and yet... V was slouching in a way Kerry really wished wasn’t so familiar, the chrome of metal fingers haunting the instrument as the memory of leather shoes took residence on the stool, the phantom of dark aviators heavy on Kerry’s mind. ‘ Maybe it was Johnny after all’ , the thought alone half scared Kerry into slapping himself awake from the fever dream. He didn’t. Instead, he carefully approached, dragging closer a chair of his own. 

“V?” Biding his time as his heart threatened to shatter. 

“Hey.” The simple answer coupled with the soft hand brought to the older man’s knee was all the affirmation Kerry needed to know it was his input in there after all. He gave him a smile, undoubtedly full of hope.

“Didn’t know you could play.” He said, a touch more excited. There was still so much to learn. So much to understand and love.

“I couldn’t, not that good” the answer was soft, so soft it nearly blended with the note that was strummed out of the cords. Then, a bit louder as V plucked the tune of Black Dog. “It started with muscle memory y’know. Noticed a while back I just knew how to do things different. It isn’t always bad, just...” V took his vengeance out on the guitar, clasped his fingers on it. Silencing it. “Just not me .”

The revelation sank its claws into Kerry’s throat just a little more. Something he knew but didn’t want to admit.

“Ker, I’m fading and I’m scared I’ll be too late to fix it.” 

Kerry threw the instrument out of the way and took the other in his arms. This was still his V. He hadn't faded away yet , and Kerry made sure to tell him so, to print his words on the merc’s skin with his lips. Leave a trace of each other in his songs, write his pain out and stand by whatever decision V was going to make as for the future.

This was still his V. Johnny be damned, he could go haunt some other poor fucker.

“Johnny” V was busying himself cleaning the blood from his hands with a rag. The day had been long, shadows stretching through the debris, bathing his silhouette in darkness. He felt Johnny turn to him more than saw, the telltale static manifesting in their mind. The rockerboy didn’t say anything, just kept smoking his digital cig in V’s peripheral. 

“Don’t think I know how to go on alone.” His voice sounded more strained than both of them would ever threaten to admit.

For a second their thoughts split, one mind cleaved in half, enough so that Johnny couldn’t get a full read. It felt like scratching an itch through fabric. Wrong, worrying . It manifested into annoyance. “What the fuck are you sayin’?”

“After we’re done. After Mikoshi. If-”

“ When ” Johnny takes another drag.

“When we make it. I-“ V passed his hands through his hair in an attempt to stay above, exhaling a shaky breath. “Fuck! This fuckin’ city’s taken too much already. I don’t think- I can’t handle losing another friend.”

Friend . A sickening wave of guilt and affection that resonated loud and clean through them. Their memories intertwined, sinking with fears and regrets. Understanding one another .

The rockerboy felt like something had to be said. They looked at the skyline, the metallic towers clawing at the heavens, the columns of holographic lights and countless boxed lives in tiny windows. The silence dragged on. There was nothing to say. “We’re in it deep, huh.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I guess we are.”

“No. No! Fuck no . Doesn’t make any fuckin’ sense. I’ve seen the blueprints, I have them memorized for fuck’s sakes. I learned how it works!” Johnny interjected a small ‘it’s true. Took him hours. Days’, but V was already standing and pacing in front of Alt, dinner booth abandoned. “Fuck this. Fuck you -” V jabbed his finger at the red outline of code, “ ‘m not letting my body rot from the inside out just ‘cause you couldn’t figure it out. I know we can make it work.” V turned to his accomplice.

A direct link, to Johnny from their mind. An idea floating in there that made sense, if completely mad. 

Blaze your way down the rebel path.

He hummed, fingers drumming on the counter “Shit V, ‘know I said you’re not exactly the brightest light on stage but ‘s good enough to pull us from the gutter.” Johnny leaned in on the table, slamming his hands on it. “Fuck it then. If V thinks he’s got a way out, I say we do whatever the fuck he says.”

V turns to the infinitely expanding presence of Alt. “Put me the fuck back into my body. We’re getting outta here.” 

“ We, huh?” The anarchist was going for levity, but concern tainted his voice, pulling at his heartstrings. 

“ I say we make another chip. Hope ya don’t mind being stuffed into another gonk’s empty brains.”

“Uh huh. And then?”

“Then we go shoot some ‘saka fuckers.” There was determination in his eyes. It turns into a consuming fire. Bright enough for the both of them.

Leaving you here would be like killing a part of myself.

Johnny stared. V stared back. Eternity stretches in a strange way when you’re dead. Then again, maybe it only took a second.

Johnny nods and they’re on their way back. The rockerboy engram tucked safely in the pocket of a jacket that used to belong to him, borrowed, and V shoved back into a body that wasn’t his anymore, returned. A promise .

They had moved, not long after Mikoshi. Weeks later and V was steadily recovering, even if it came at the cost of spending half his days hooked to his netrunner chair with wires poking out everywhere. It freaked Kerry out, like maybe it was becoming an extension of his input, never to wake up again. Of course, it got worse, much much worse before it got better. Long nights with red stains in the sink, empty gaze in dark sockets and more time spent on that cursed chair . But then the merc would bounce out of it, eyes a little brighter everyday, voice clearer and laugh louder. It mixed well with the tempo in Kerry’s heart.

V had tried to explain what had happened. To warn his lover that maybe he won’t ever be the same again. Things had changed, irreversibly. Kerry sometimes saw it in the way V would carry himself or how his lips would twist in a smile that was just too Johnny . There was still V, and maybe Kerry was being wishful but it was V a little more everyday, just different. A change he also found in Johnny, who sported not only two flesh hands but seemingly a new soul. He left the city at some point, saying his goodbyes and departed with the Aldecaldos. Kerry could tell it was hard for V. He wasn’t ready to be alone in a mind he had spent nearly a year sharing. A kind of sharing that can’t be equaled by anything, not when someone else’s hopes and fears become yours like theirs had.

Nine months later, and the netrunner chair was now mostly only ever occupied for gigs. They had their routine, tinged with bouts of disorder and fire, kisses as they outrun explosions and stick it to anyone standing in their way, echoes of laughter and good times as they settle for early morning coffees and middle of the night takeouts. Some other times it was just them, Nibbles and Little Big Corporate reruns. The Johnnyness was still there, but it was something Kerry had come to associate with it being irrevocably V’s instead. 

It took a year. 

An entire year before Johnny came back to see them again. Kerry and V were lazing in bed, half paying attention to the series on the screen and half on their way to dreamland. It was late, the holographic screen indicating close to two in the morning. They had had a long day, V with poor information leading to a botched job and then a visit to Vik - few bruises, a stab wound, the usual - while Kerry spent most of his being fussed over by publicists and then chain smoking, worried sick about his input when he received a text from Viktor. They had met back home around eight, V with his lover’s favourite takeouts as an apology for the concern, and Kerry with two new riffs about raw nerves and destructive tendencies.

They’ve had this conversation a thousand times, and they would have it a thousand more. They skipped it for the night.

Kerry’s soft snoring was rudely interrupted by Nibbles, angrily jumping on the covers and demanding nutrition. The rockstar ran his hands on his face, semi conscious. “Mmh?” He reached for V, who took his hand and gave it a squeeze.

“S’okay, I’ll go. Gotta take my meds anyways.”

Taking the cat in his arms with him down the landing, V set on as fast he could to quickly return to the embrace of his input and bed. He heard Kerry drag himself to the bathroom, probably removing his makeup to not wake up in the morning with smudged eyeliner on his pillows. V found it completely endearing as much as it unnerved Kerry, the indigo traces mystifying for somebody not quite used to waking up again and again next to someone who had no intentions of going anywhere.

Thinking about being liked, let alone loved, floored him momentarily, just enough to distract him from the disgust of swallowing his cocktail of pills. They mixed into an acidic burn in his blood, made his fingers and cyberware course with numbness, lungs heavy for a moment as V forced himself to move despite the discomfort and consequent lack of coordination. As he set his feline friend’s food down, the sensation was dulled, now just an ache in his spine and a slowed processing of his senses. 

Now served, Nibbles devoured away, little golden chain clinking on her ceramic bowl. It blended with the distant sound of the sink running upstairs with Kerry humming, the cars passing down the streets outside and the rustling of the palm trees in the garden. It felt like home . Something V never thought he’d find in his lifetime. He breathed it in, eyes closed, thoughts drifting to the distant fears of an uncertain future, to the assurance of having self-made options for once .

Then the moment was gone, interrupted by the chime of the elevator, having V instinctively run for his gun and wait by the entrance’s chrome portal. Three knocks, nearly as loud as V’s blood in his ears, and the merc inched towards the control panel for the door. The only people who knew where they had moved wouldn’t visit without calling first, and never at this hour. He adjusted his grip on the gun’s handle. “How’d you get this address?”

A sigh. “ Always asking the wrong questions. Misty told me you’d moved. Just open up.” The voice bled with an intrusive familiarity, V’s heart not in the least calming down as the identity of the intruder was recognized. 

“Holy fuckin’ shit,” he wheezed, tossing the gun to the kitchen counter and practically punching the door controls to get it open.

There, duffle bag on one shoulder, unmistakable aviators perched on his nose and guitar case in hand stood Johnny Silverhand. He let himself in, setting down his baggages, brown irises revealed as the shades were put to rest in a pocket, scrutinizing the interior of V’s apartment. “ Definitely an upgrade from that other dive” he mused, and the hint of wrinkles appeared at the corner of his eyes, unmistakable smile on his face as he turned his gaze back to the merc. V stared at Johnny, who started fidgeting with a leather wristband, shoulders bunching with something and eyebrows burrowed. Uncertain .

Realizing he’d just been standing there like a gonk, V pushed himself forward, tripping on Johnny’s bag, stubbing a toe over the guitar case, cursing his lack of synchronicity. A laugh echoed, a spiteless ‘ shut it asshole ’, and then the ex rockerboy was pulled into a hug, tension leaving his back as the relief of being welcomed washed over him. 

It felt like eternity. It felt like being whole again.

After a moment, V pulled back, hands on Johnny’s shoulders as they gave each other a thorough inspection. “Well, look at you, ” Johnny hunted for fresh bruises on the merc, who swatted the inquisitive hand away.

“What the fuck did you do to your hair? ” V ran his fingers in the cropped black strands, smile so bright the scorching fire in Johnny’s heart paled in comparison. “Ugly bastard.”

“Could say the same to you” Johnny tsked. “Swear I left you in a better state.”

There was a pause as they eyed one another, minuscule, insignificant before they collided again, a bond that traversed time and space recognized, embraced.

The bathroom glass door opened, a very tired rockstar sliding out to lean over the balcony “V, who-” Kerry scoffed, face lighting up as he registered the who. “No fuckin’ way” he threw himself down the steps to join them, blanket previously draping bronze shoulders falling off on the floor in his hurry. “You son of a bitch! Couldn't even bother to gimme a call before coming over”, Kerry half grappled, half hugged him before pulling back, Johnny patting his friend’s cheek, old habits kicking in, familiar . Kerry frowned. “What happened to your hair?”

“Jesus fuck, that all you two gonks have to say?” V punched his arm, Johnny poked a bruise.

It took the merc a solid second to get over the relief of having that missing piece of himself just walk back into his life, because as hard as he tried to deny it that’s what Johnny had become . There, in his home, reconciled with his other half and his better half, maybe things would really be alright after all. Johnny’s eyes crinkled again. “Stop thinkin’ about corny shit all the time. You’ll turn into Kerry before you know it.”

Said rockstar made a point of sticking both his middle fingers up. “Fuck you too!”

They spent the rest of the night seated outside on the balcony catching up, Kerry and his blanket curled to V’s side, ‘making good use of that black belt in cuddling’ as he had put it while Nibble took residence on Johnny’s lap, content. Not that he would ever admit it, but she had always been his cat first and foremost.

The low table and beanbags were surrounded by bottles, some empty and some half full, one still in the hand of the ex rockerboy. Their conversation had slowed to a halt to look at the whisper of a sun beginning to rise through hostile skyscrapers and foggy streets.

Johnny returned to petting his cat. “Might have a job for you. Something big.” Nibble purred, bundle of joy sprawling further. The man glanced back up at V, more serious this time. “ If you’re up for it, of course.”

V snorted “Since when do you have the budget to pay my fees?” he joked, but felt Kerry tense at his side, a poor facade of indifference crumbling the moment their eyes met. A complicated history with death, bandaided with a few apologies from both of them wasn’t enough to make up for Johnny nearly ending V’s life and giving Kerry fifty years of heartache.

When is it enough? The feeling of home returned. The memory of dark, narrow stairs guarded by chrome knuckles, leading to a cool underground. The music vibrating through the walls and bar top, the cushion of his favourite stool at the Afterlife with Claire, meeting clients with intricate lives and setting up the contracts of a lifetime, making sure he kept others safe with his information and not his own flesh as a shield. Getting to go home with his blood still well inside his body and not all over his clothes . He cleared his throat.

“Actually, I uh… been thinkin’ bout leaving the hands-on stuff behind. Maybe just stick to being a fixer. ‘Course, I’ll still take a few exclusive gigs here and there from my regulars....” The regular in question saluted with a tilt of his bottle. Other memories surface, of people lost and people met. “But I’m tired of dying and worrying my chooms. I like livin’ . Plan to keep at it for a long time.” Kerry put his hand on top of his, calluses tracing scared knuckles. V knew his input was bracing for the ghost of cruel words that won’t ever come. Kerry had been living with a Johnny shaped tormentor in his mind for too long.

Johnny, real flesh and blood Johnny sighed, sinking deeper into the cushions. “Kinda hoped you’d wisen up sooner than later.”

Kerry waved an accusatory finger at the terrorist, disbelief tackling his vocal cords “Oh? oh , that’s rich. Look who the fuck’s talking!”

“Can’t say shit Ker, last I know you were waving a gun around like it was your dick.”

They kept going back and forth for a minute, V lost in the rhythm and ease of their banter.

Johnny doubled down, the unassuming edges of his smile still new for all of them. “But seriously V, you’re stubborn and good at problem solving. If I didn’t know you, I’d even say smart.” Kerry kicked in his direction, not quite reaching, and Johnny kicked back “I’m sure fixing suits you. Real good to see you’re not throwing everything you worked for away for some illusion of livin’ on the edge. Trust me, it’s not worth it.” The ex rockerboy considered his half empty bottle, watching the liquid swirl around for a second before setting it down on the end table. He sighed. “Guess we’ll just have to go fishing or somethin’ to pass the time.”

“Fishing? On water ? Who are you and what have you done with the real Johnny?”

“Alright Jesus, you're a cunt to deal with, ‘know that?”

“And you’re-“ 

“A dick, yeah, so I’ve been told.”

They fell into silence once more, eyes fixed on the sunrise, inescapable this time. The blazing light swallowed the remaining darkness of the early morning, guiding the city into a new day.

“Guess we really did fit together after all, huh?”

The bond remained, stronger. An echo of their past. Friends . No guilt or fears coursing through it, no regrets or pain this time.

Just the feeling of belonging.

“Yeah. Yeah, I guess we do.”

Chapter Text

If you ever were curious what V (Vegas) and Johnny looked like by the end of that very first chapter I posted:

Now you know why V and Kerry were grilling him about his hair.

Chapter Text

Johnny stretches, hears Kerry choke on his drink and cracks his eyes open to see his friend with his gaze fixed to V’s rear. His rear, at the moment. “Shit Ker, while I’m here? You ain’t even being subtle.” 

Kerry swallowed, not looking the least bit apologetic, eyes darting back up “it’s the, y’know-” he gestures in his direction, pointing up and down at the attire V had put on that morning. Johnny takes a moment to look down at himself, at V, the netrunner suit with the combat boots, feeling leagues lighter with the thick neurotron jacket off, discarded to the armrest. Somehow Johnny had let it become their usual, V’s silhouette in the shadows synonymous with the curve of his body even as he snapped the necks of unsuspecting victims. It left too little to the imagination for Johnny’s taste, but it made up for it more than enough with its practicality. He nods as he goes to sit back down. “ The suit. ” 

“The - the suit . Man. Who the fuck wears that for work?” He pours himself another glass, voice wheezing with the laugh that just wouldn’t come through, shaking his head at the absurdity of himself, there with an old friend in a stranger’s body, criticizing wardrobes while all he had on himself was his silk robe and flip flops.

Johnny twirls the whiskey in his glass, kicking his legs up on the table in slow motion, knocking over a knife and some uncapped pill bottles. “Gonks eager to prove themselves,” he sighs and downs the rest of the alcohol in one go.

“Don’t know if there’s anything to prove there Johnny. You sure as shit could never pull off something like that .”

“Ker, you do realize you’re the proud owner of the flattest ass known to man, right?”

“Come into a man’s house and insult his ass? Bet you used those fifty years in limbo to think of that one.” Kerry grumbles as he gets up and waves a hand that Johnny knew an invitation to follow. “Fuck, anyways. Had enough of your gonk fuckin’ ‘back from hell’ bullshit. C’mon, let’s go get nostalgic!” And the clip clopping of his sandals filled the mansion’s empty hall as they moved to slump over another cluster of couches, getting just as drunk but to the beat of their old singles this time, projector wall illuminated with old scrolls, reminiscing and planning Samurai’s return from the dead.

And that’s when he first met V. It wasn’t anything spectacular or a shock from the heavens. No cherub came to spit arrows down on them. It was a moment nearly lost to the haze of the night's events, overshadowed by the haunting of an old ghost. Kerry saw his friend fall from his seat, nose bleeding, coughing fit and eyes barely focused on him as he pushed the other back up into the couch. He patted his cheek, too familiar for someone different behind eyes he had started to associate with another name. The voice wasn’t the same somehow, as V pursed his lips and asked if they had fun, at least. Remorseful and maybe a bit bitter from the imposed disorientation, Kerry couldn’t tell. V wiped the blood off his face, the cost of the little reunion paid in red staining the furniture. Kerry didn’t mind, not at the time. V smiled, slow and bright in a way Johnny could never and the rockerboy’s brain gobbled the vision for the contrast it bore, appreciative for the handsome features and bright soul, dimming a little every day. Later, his brain would cling to any and all differences he could spot. Cradle it, late at night, when the same note just kept playing in a loop on his strings. The memories would hurt into a song, songs, a soundtrack for deadmen with a desperation to be remembered.

Kerry’s only regret was not considering V sooner as more than just an outlet for the chaos he deserved to rain down on his misfortune.

Chapter Text

Kerry was just about ready to trash and burn the villa to the ground. He’d spent the last five hours trying to concentrate on music but he was hungry, he was tired, he was thinking about V again.

It had been four days since they had seen each other, and thirty-six hours since the last text. He cursed himself out of giving V a call to request he drops everything to join him. As if the thought had summoned the devil himself, his holo rang, loud chime accompanied by the icon he had chosen for V, a candid picture of him eating a greasy burger during one of their late-night outings. 

“Hey V.” I was thinking about you. I miss you.

Kerry was glad he had kept his mouth shut when the familiar voice, with a rougher edge, simply answered “Try guessin’ again.”

Kerry’s mind came to a screeching halt. “Johnny? That you?”

“Yep.”

“Thought you two were done exchanging seats,” he murmured, voice shaky with uncertainty.

“We went for a nap and woke up like this.” Johnny sounds mocking, terrible comedy pursing his lips.

Kerry laughed, not knowing what else to do, but Johnny’s face remained closed. It hit Kerry like being plunged in ice water.

“Fuck. You’re serious?”

“ ‘Think it’s gonna pass. Otherwise, I’ll just rip the fucker back out myself.” And Johnny took a long drag, numbing his nerves with the nicotine. He lit another cig when this one was burned to the filter, hunched over his bouncing knee, the ashtray in front of him full. “Anyways, thought I’d take the opportunity to give you some advice. You’re gonna need it. V’s denser than expired milk.” Kerry could tell the words were said affectionately, and it struck him as alien. Johnny had always been an expert at fooling himself into thinking he doesn’t get sentimental over people. The handful of times Kerry had seen him like this had ended with Silverhand in fits of rage camouflaging self-hatred and guilt.

“The fuck, Johnny? Last person I need advice from is you. Should be focusing on getting your choom back ‘stead.”

Johnny exhales another cloud, looking like he would have rather been spitting fire, frustration knitting V’s brows. “Went to check with the ripper, there’s nothing I can do. Already took the pills - five of ‘em, they just made us puke more blood. Been sick all morning.” Another cloud of smoke fills Kerry’s vision on the line. “Just shut the fuck up for five seconds, man. I have something to say and all you can do is whine like a bitch?”

There he is. There’s the Johnny he knows. The one who needs to spew sermons when his nerves are raw, both of them stuck in a dance they know by heart when the precipice of the abyss is just too jarring to face, and maybe Kerry stood there himself a few too many times on his own. He gets it. He hates it. He wanted to see V back in those eyes that have the power to soothe. Kerry rakes his hands through his hair, down his face and keeps them over his mouth. He nods.

“ ‘Kay.”

He hears a scoff. “Man, you got it bad. Look at you.” Kerry frowns, lips pulled into a line. Insults were ready to fly free and Johnny immediately threw his hands up in surrounded. “Not judging. Just telling you how it is.” His expression sobers, crushing the cig in a pizza leftover.  “Actually, ’s on-brand with the theme. Ker, V’s a good lil’ boy scout, dropping things at a sec’s notice more than once for divas like you just ‘cause they ask. It’s borderline hysterical when you consider he’s shut tight to admitting his own shortcomings. ‘Feel like an underpaid babysitter and the kid keeps trying to shove daddy’s gun in his mouth.” There’s a pause, and Kerry wonders if he’s supposed to know what to answer to that, but it felt more like a prelude to actually talk than another tirade of Johnny complaining every which way. It’s oddly familiar to arguments they had before, during and after gigs, mind ready to tune out and get lost in the lull of Johnny’s voice until the real screaming match begins. Kerry knew it wouldn’t come to that, not now that V’s own personality acted as a potent tranquilizer for Johnny’s anger. He pretends he doesn’t see the shaking in Johnny’s hand when he goes to brush V’s hair out of their eyes. “Truth is, we’re running out of options. When the time’s right, I’m going to give up my spot so he can keep his. And he’s gonna feel alone.” He taps a finger to their temple “can’t help it, after being wired together for so long. But he can’t do this shit alone, no matter how much he denies it. Guess he’s not been paying attention to my memories very well, even if he’s a quick-learner.” And it makes Kerry snort, grumbling that Johnny himself was never one capable of owning up to his fuck ups and it makes the other on the line narrow his eyes and twist his lips in a knowing smile before he continues. “But it’s not enough. He’ll need someone to help him pick up the pieces. Someone who’ll listen even when he won’t wanna talk.”

Kerry was good at filling in the blanks. Johnny being himself had provided enough opportunities for him to hone the skill, until Kerry himself became adept at leaving the real meaning behind his words omnipresent, if unaddressed. All this leading to a phone call by a distressed ghost in the middle of the night. Seeking contact, understanding from an old friend. It was never asked out front with Silverhand, always disguised behind insults and bouts of discord. This was as close as they ever got to a heart to heart. “You’re telling me this so I can be there for him. You want me to be there for him.”

Johnny nods, aviators reflecting pink light, framing gaunt cheeks. “Listen, I’ve come to realize I didn’t judge you right, back then. That’s on me. You tried to be there for me, be real, an’ I-“ Kerry watched as Johnny swallowed the rest of his words, not quite there yet. The apology came fifty years late, for things Kerry had already moved on from. It still meant something to Johnny. To him. He nodded, a new sense of calm blanketing his anxiety momentarily.

“Yeah, you fucked it up. But hey. You’re here for V now, right? Gotta count for something.” It was a cheap acceptance, but it was something neither of them had ever given the other before. And Johnny smiles, leaning back into the couch. They talk for a while more, until Kerry’s exhausted from the worry, stomach beckoning him to find sustenance and Johnny hangs up with a goodbye that feels more hopeful than it had any right to.

It happened from time to time after that. Moments, days when V got lost and Johnny was shoved to the front in his stead. Kerry could tell he was trying to be considerate, keeping away from trouble as much as humanly possible for Johnny fucking Silverhand. But no matter what, V always came back, either a blend of himself and the involuntary passenger or back to his regular old self. It was a disturbing transition, painful to watch. Kerry offered V his home as a respite, his heart to tap into the pool of affection and his chaotic streak to distract. He told himself it was enough, and he almost believed it when V would kiss him slow, hands rubbing small circles on his knuckles.

Chapter Text

Kerry couldn’t remember how the argument started. Maybe it was something to do with V’s willingness to throw himself in harm’s way, maybe it was Kerry’s reluctance to open up about the pit of anguish in his chest. But they had been tired and a shit week corroded into a shouting match. What he does remember, is how they had slipped.

“You couldn’t even give me a fucking call? Let me know you weren’t, in fact, lying dead in some back alley for the rats to pick at your corpse? Couldn’t think about how I’d feel?”

“Jesus, Ker! What the fuck’s your problem? I was gone for two days, happens all the time. Stop being such a fucking bitch about it!”

And Kerry snapped his head back up at V, anger turning destructive, awfully comforting with its familiarity. He threw his jacket to the couch, spinning on his heels as he pointed his finger like it was a weapon.

“What the fuck? What the fuck did you say to me?”

“Kerry-“ 

“No, fuck you. Do you know what my fucking problem is? You realize who you sound like? Fuck, can’t even tell who’s standing in front of me right now. You’re just like him.”

And the anger turned to ashes the moments the words left his mouth, following silence so incredibly loud it was suffocating. He was left confronted with the wounds his words had opened, invisible line he had crossed now searing red. V’s face, twisted in shame. Cold coils around his heart, simmers down his spine. 

Two unstoppable forces staring at each other across a room, space charged between them as V’s eyes suddenly seem too deep to not drown in their sadness. Kerry looks away, and V bristles.

“I’m just- I have to-“ and he swallows his words, unable to formulate anything past expressing a need for an escape. His senses spin with the intake of danger danger danger, nothing to do with any real threat but getting his heart shattered, incapable of handling the fear of being seen as anything but himself. V flees, wordless as their two orbits untwine, if only momentarily, needing distance unless he does something stupid, ruins something that is good for once in his worthless existence.

He jumps on his bike, and rides until the city is but a looming shadow behind him, stopping only when he reaches the end of the road at the precipice of the badland’s canyon. He screams at it, then to his echo, reflected at him and sounding just like Johnny, even in his anger, soaked in it like it could hide the fear. He threw trash over the edge and collapsed on the concrete road, stayed there until he didn’t feel like flinging himself down it next. 

“Feel better after that little outburst?” Johnny manifested in front of him, propped up on a concrete half wall. 

“Shut the fuck up, can’t even get angry without throwing a Johnny-tantrum anymore. ‘Was all your fault.”

“Oh, sure.” He laughs, humourless and cold “things go sideways? Blame good ‘ol Silverhand. That was your anger, not mine.”

“They were your words out of my mouth!” He yells, palm colliding with the hard ground. V deflates with the sting of the impact.

“I’m inside your fucking head. As a professional fuck up, I can tell when you’re trying to shift blame and ‘void the real problem. Stop being a cunt.”

V picks gravel from the ground, throwing it at Johnny. It passes through the glitching body, barely phasing the engram as he lit a cigarette.

“Go back to Kerry. Apologize to him.”

“Go fuck yourself, Johnny.”

“Not an option in this hallucinatory purgatory.” He pulls his aviators up over his head, jabbing a finger in V’s direction. “Go back to see him. I know how he gets after a pissing contest like that. We were at each other’s throats half the time, and if I regret anything, it’s acting like he didn’t deserve a single fucking ‘thank you’ for the shit I put him through.” Johnny shifts, walking to tap his boot to V’s ankle. “Don’t let him down, V. I’ll make you regret it.” And his smile as he stared down at V was nothing short of a promise. 

It took an hour to ride back home, the dark in the villa greeting him. Kerry was sitting in the booth upstairs, maybe waiting for him, with his shoulders hunched, elbows in his knees and head hung. V intruded, planting himself on the other end of the cushions, and the rockerboy did a good job at keeping his hands steady, at remaining composed.

“I fucked up”, was the first thing Kerry said. “I’m sorry, V.” It took a second for him to meet his eyes again, worried lines creasing his brow. “I just got so fucking angry. But you didn’t deserve me to spit in your face like that. ‘Knew it would hurt you to say that shit. Really didn’t need the reminder that…” you’re changing you’re turning you’re fading. He takes a sharp inhale, and V nods before letting Kerry continue. “What you told me brought back some old hang-ups and I lost it, y’know? Not trynna make shitty excuses just...” he forces himself to breathe, red eyes heavy with more tears. “ Shit .”

V slides his arms around him, seeking comfort, seeking contact and forgiveness. “I’m so fuckin’ sorry, too. Didn’t mean what I said, I get that you’re worried. ‘N for the record, I never ever thought for a second you were anything less than a force of nature.” 

“No, no. You got something right, I was being… Fuck! I’m scared, V. That it’ll all be gone too soon. I just started opening up, being real with someone for the first time in over twenty fucking years” he laughs with a broken voice, a cruel, self-deprecating laugh “and then- then seeing you back home with the prospect you just won’t come back the next day fucks me up real bad, V. I want you, alive ‘n safe. It’s just all so fucking crazy .”

“I don’t have a choice, Ker. Not- not for now. If there’s any possibility it’ll-“ if there’s any chance I get to make it “if we want a chance at this long term at all, I have to keep going. I’m sorry, I really fuckin’ am. Wish things were different. Wish I had options.”

“I know, I’m… I’m not asking you to give up.” And his voice sounds small, too small for the range it possesses, carrying the weight of his sorrow as he cradles V's Face in his hands. “Can you just promise me to be careful? To think about the people who l-“ who love you, he stops himself, knowing this was a hard subject for the both of them, raw in the case of V, but he understands. “Who care about you when you’re out there defying all odds?”

“I can do that.” And it’ll have to be enough for the both of them, clinging to one another when time is slipping through their fingers. 

For the collection of good and bad days, Kerry writes and sings himself raw, lays his emotions down for V to see, the world to see in his songs, and V comes back nearly every night, blood on his lips, blood on his hands and a double-edged knife of hope and desperation that dug deep inside Kerry’s heart.

Chapter Text

Saying Kerry had had a rough fucking day would be an understatement. He’s had his share of shit spit at him from the record, the lawyers, his fucking ex-wife. But the icing on the cake was that the one song he had been composing since the beginning of his new loop just didn’t feel like enough anymore. Dark little clouds like vultures swam over his heart, creating a battlefield for anyone who dared cross him. He had spent a solid hour just driving, or, more like, avoiding going back to a maybe-empty home.  

V hasn’t been answering his messages today. Jury was still out on the good or bad of that.

He didn’t even think about stopping by anywhere for dinner, near nauseous as he pushed the Caliburn faster up the North Oak slope, into his driveway. He almost runs over one of his bots, Roberto jumping out of the way at the last second. 

The first thing he noticed after entering the villa was the sheer amount of trash bags everywhere. Then, it was the lack of said garbage littering the floor, the walls, the surfaces. There were still some of it stubbornly glued to the ceiling, but Kerry sure as shit wasn’t going to turn up his nose at the amount of work that had been put into this. He frowned, noticing the faint echo of a radio in the distance, signalling the presence of an occupant, and he made his way up the stairs, guided by the sound until his eyes crossed the blotchy little red stains on the otherwise mostly clean floor. “V?” He called, his breath hitched at the prospect of the merc being in danger in his own home, head snapping up to look around and he fasted his pace, following the trail all the way to the second bathroom door.

It was ajar, just enough for him to peek inside and he instinctively reached for the handle of his gun, cursing when he realized it wasn't on him, wasn’t his to wield anymore. He slides the door open, met with the sight of V in the bathtub, comically small despite his height with his cig in hand, head tilted back on the white marble rim, with the aviators on and his eyes closed. Kerry strides to the side of his lover, using his HUD to turn off the blaring radio and it makes V’s eyes flutter open, fresh blood flowing from his nose as he forces himself to lift his head with a wince. 

“Woah, ok. Lay back down for me, baby.” And Kerry settles his hand on V’s arm, on his shoulder, framing himself over his input in what he hoped was reassuring more than cagy. “You want me to call Vik?”

And V’s eyes barely stay open as he tries to first shake his head, eliciting a groan out of him before he swallows, voice gruff when he tries to speak. He wipes the blood off his lips, washing it away in the tub. “Nah, s’gonna pass. Can you- can you just turn off the lights, please?” Kerry hesitates for a second, and V closes his eyes again. He dims the room light with a flash of blue in his irises, hands carefully reaching to remove the aviators off from V, letting them clatter on the floor tiles.

“How’s this?”

“Much better, thanks. Can you pass me my pills?” He reaches a hand out, dripping water on the floor and it’s then that Kerry notices the blood swirling around in the bath, much more than he thought possible from a nosebleed, how fucking long has he been like this, making his heart scream and he takes a breath, reaching for V’s emergency tin box, full of first aid, emergency blockers and painkillers. His hands are steadier than they have any right to be, slipping one pill in the other’s fingers, that was then swallowed.

“Thank you.”

“The house’s clean,” he remarks, coming to sit on the edge of the bath. “That what you been up to today before coming up here to- to bleed out?”

“Wanted to surprise you, but I guess I kinda ruined it. Lost track of time after a lil’ while.”

“You look out of it,” Kerry says sombrely, hand reaching out to caress his lover’s cheek. “Really think I should give Vik a call.”

“’s fine, already took something for it.”

“V, how long you been like this?” 

And to that V tilts his head to the side, off to look at the center of the room. His expression shifts after a second, silent discussion with a ghost ending with V snorting. He turns back to Kerry, little smile dancing on his lips when he answers. “Five hours.”

Holy shit. “Have- have you been in the bath for five fucking hours?”

He blinks more than he nods. “Wanted to feel warm, ‘m always so fuckin’ cold. S’actually really comfy. Can’t remember if it was Johnny that suggested it or...”

“Baby, we gotta get you out of the water. You’re gonna turn into a weird sea slug or something soaking like that.”

“Wouldn’t be the worst thing to happen to me.”

“I happen to like you human, ya gonk.”

“Mmh, I think you need to relax, Ker. C’mon, there’s plenty of space in ‘ere.” he sluggishly pats at the water, making it ripple around him, splashing and some of it gets on the rockerboy’s arm.

“Urgh, V. There’s blood in there.”

And to that, V put the cig between his lips, turning the tap on again and opening the drain, replacing the old dirty water with new, clean and hot one. “That better?”

To Kerry's hesitation, V fidgeted with his cigarette. “I… I just don’t want to go back out there for a lil’ while. Just wanna enjoy somethin’ normal for a couple of hours.”

Kerry laughs incredulously. “Normal? And you choose cleaning my mess today of all fucking things?”

V folded on himself, knees drawn to shield his chest, feeling minuscule in the face of his vulnerability. Looking for excuses to escape, even for a few hours, to pretend it was really fine, that he wasn’t going to sink to the bottom of the black void and leave Kerry behind. “Yeah.”

Kerry had seen V like this before. Where he was open, but raw, hinging between emotions. It was always precarious, push and pull between folding to brush the subject away or dig deeper to tug it loose. Fuck it. He wasn’t sure which one to take a step forward this time, so instead he itched a leg over the rim, water splashing around him and V spilling an amused laugh over tired nerves as he fully sat in the water, bubbles emerging from his boots, his pants and the weird feel of the fabric on his skin made him grumble, but V’s spark in his eye returned. He held out his hand for V to pass the cig, and it’s with a big sloppy kiss that he obliged. “Scoot over, gotta tell you about the fucking day I had.”

Chapter Text

V had taken him to his spot, in the badlands. The fire pit rekindled, a cheap mattress and sleeping bag lying where they had last left them, tucked between a hill and an old caravan V had grown fond of. The city was far enough its echoes couldn’t reach them, replaced with the windfarm creaking through the breeze, burning wood and the faint sound of the radio inside the trailer the last guard against the silence. They weren’t paying any mind to the sounds but instead to the view, even as their focus wilted to cherish the hold of each other, Kerry in V’s arm as they shared a cig, the merc’s eyes fixed on the fingers tracing the cybernetic scars running from Kerry’s optics. “Why’d you change ‘em?”

“Hm?”

“Back then. I remember... Your eyes used to be this really warm brown. Always thought they made you look hot when you’d smile. Suited you.”

Kerry practically hears the cracks form in his heart at the realization of who he was talking to. Johnny . He disengaged from the embrace, giving space to his lover’s body, away from the ghost inside. “Fuck Johnny, could’ve said it was you in there.”

“Kerry?” 

“Shit, I don’t understand when…” his voice trails, making a series of noncommittal hums as he tries to remember exactly when V had slipped away. “Ugh, fuck , this is messed up.”

V’s brows furrowed. Voice too caring and shit , longing to belong to johnny as he says “Ker, it’s me .” And Kerry thinks he understands.

There’s a pause as he processes it, recognizes V’s way of fidgeting with the cig, how he chews at his bottom lip, and yet . There’s a doubt there that haunts him. “How’d you know about my eyes?”

“I saw memories n’guess I... I forget they’re Johnny’s sometimes.” He admits, tapping his finger to the side of his head. “Easy to forget he’s turning’ me into him.”

“So what? He’s there all the time? Even when...” Kerry gestures between the two of them, golden sunset catching at rings adorning his fingers.

V snorts, smile tugging even as he admires the other in the last of the daylight, long shadows stealing the little warmth left under his skin. “Nah, it’s nothing like that, Ker. ‘Thought I made it clear I was just in this because of you, no brain parasite. You and me… it’s just us.” His response is cryptic, maybe purposefully so, because they both knew Johnny could never be out completely. 

The rockerboy hummed, face turning to the horizon, fire crackling as it consumed the dying wood. “Can you... Ah, y’know, try to explain again? Still don’t know what the fuck to think about all this.” And he reaches out, a hand open for V to take, as much demand for reassurance as it was an offer of support. 

V ponders, taking a slow inhale of the cig, eyes searching the windfarm fields for words to express the convergence of two minds. Barely-there layers were pulled back, and he felt Johnny just as he felt his own skin, like he sat in his bones, like their lungs overlapped every breath, memories crossed and voices blended, more and more. There even now, present somewhere in their mind like the warm licks of the flames.

With a shiver, V cast the cigarette into the fire and locked his fingers with Kerry’s, needing the contact of something tangible , cold against warm. “S’more like, we’re two ice cubes melting into a singular puddle. No matter how hard you try to separate the water that’s me from him, it’s never gonna work. All you can salvage is what’s left of the ice cubes, I guess. The rest is just...a whole. We’re both changing.” Johnny’s disapproval manifested through a recoil in their mind, close to hurting but not quite.

Not bad. Could make a lyricist out of you, yet.

“Fuck” Kerry brings himself closer again, resting his head with his ear to V’s heart, as if its rhythm could tell Kerry all about the issue, the secret to saving the merc who had become so important to him in the last few months. Science was beyond him, but music? Music he knew. V’s heartbeat wasn’t a regular beat, a little too slow, out of tune for his liking when V was so alive right here and now. Betrayed by his own body to tell a story he didn’t like the ending of. Kerry swallowed the scream that wanted to claw its way out. “I can’t fucking imagine what it’s like in there, V. But, if there’s anything I believe, ’s that you’ll find a way.”

“I have to be ready in case I don’t, too. Kerry-“ he frees Kerry’s hand, fingers instead curling into fists, shaking with the pressure of anxiety and all the fury of an undeserved fate. “Things are going to get rough. And I- I’d understand, you know. It’s not your- I’d understand if you didn’t want to... I made shit choices and I have to deal with them.” And Kerry was being patient through worrying words, held still while V realized he was rambling “I guess what I’m trying to say is, you don’t have to stick with me. You don’t owe me anything.”

And V, in all his misguided sense of giving Kerry the out of his life, the chance to let go of another grief, to rule his kingdom without a set of daggers in his heart, forgot that he sat already deep in his blood, and it wasn’t some easy lyrics that Kerry could float out of his mouth, wasn’t anything close to a storm he could rein in and be close to normal for the short period they had known each other. Couldn’t find words to express it, and the frustration thundered in his voice, in his head shaking disapprovingly and his leg bouncing. He sighs, face turning back to project his meaning, if by nothing else but by his eyes.

“V, you’re fucking crazy if I think I’m going to let you go now. Actually, your life’s fucking crazy. Johnny’s crazy. Your cat, your talking gun, whatever . That’s alright with me. I’m not- Fuck kid, I’m not here talking feelings with you because I feel some twisted sense of, what? Obligation, towards you or Johnny? I’m just here, I wanna be there, and you just gotta fuckin’ accept that.”

“Or what?”

“Or, I’ll just have to say it over and over till it finally gets into that thick skull of yours.”

V’s smile was shy, a tentative little sliver of hope, cheeks flushed as a doubt was lifted. “ ‘Kay. Just making sure.”

“Yeah, yeah. And you make sure you're seeing this thing through. I’ll drag you out of hell myself if I have to.” He watches as V’s smile turns into laughter, pours into his veins with the licks of the firelight casting sparks in his lover’s eyes.

“Promise?”

“Mhm.”

Chapter Text

V leaned a little harder than perhaps required on the counter, one leg bouncing with the rhythm of the music as he took another sip of his drink, a Silverhand, his second one in the night. Rogue observed him from across her booth, how the ever-present tension in his shoulder seemed to have been alleviated, how he let himself look young, even for just a moment - but there was the presence of a shadow still obscuring his eyes. With a sigh, she got up, giving a nod to Weyland as she walked past him. 

V didn’t turn immediately, unaware of her presence in the stool next to him, and she was caught again thinking how carefree he looked for a second.

“Have a good night?”

He whips his head around at that, eyes turning mischievous when he recognized her. “Me? In this fucking city? ”

Rogue gave a pointed look to his neck, prettily decorated with blooming bruises left by his lover a few hours before.

V”s smile illuminates his face as he tilts his head. “You should see the other guy.”

It makes Claire laugh, V turning to share a conspiratorial wink with her before turning back to the queen of the afterlife. Her eyes flash blue for a second, and V’s smile falters, very much aware of what was to come. 

“Eurodyne, huh? Have a predisposition for sad rocker boys?” V watched her muse on it, her thumb grazing the pistol at her side in contemplation. “Don’t think I need to elaborate that I’d break both your legs if you ever break his heart.”

“No ma'am.” He says, shy smile wide on his face despite the knowing clarity in his eyes.

“Good. Now, why don’t you tell me why you’re really here?”

V’s grip around his glass tightened before relaxing, nearly quick enough for anyone to miss, but Rogue’s optic still caught the small change. His back tense, his jaw clenched. He takes a shaky exhale as his fingers instead go to fidget with the gold band around his finger. Interesting . 

“We- I’m still dying, Rogue. I don’t wanna die. ‘M tired of it. 'S not how I…”

“I know kid, I know. No one would want to go like that.”

Her words stuck to him, two weary souls from a dangerous lifestyle bearing the scars from a certain terrorist. She knew, had fifty years on him to understand. “I think-“ he clears his throat “think I may have a plan. ‘Just need help from the best fixer in town setting up a course.”

“Johnny put you up to this before he left? Another wild goose chase?”

V’s eyes flicker around the bar momentarily, Rogue realizing it was to look for something that wasn’t there anymore, then back to her, leaning in with a sad gleam to his irises catching the neon light of the bar. “Nah, that’s all me this time. He would go insane if I knew how long this took me to scrounge together.”

She huffs, “that’s the bastard for you.” She squints for a second, eyes flashing blue as V shifted excitedly in his seat.

“Alright, we’ve got an hour in the booth. Tell me what you’ve got so far, and I'll see what I can do.”

Chapter Text

They had been seeing each other for ten months now, still on the stage of finding a balance on account of neither being remotely good at it. Kerry appreciated the space V gave him to rattle his own feelings loose, out to be collected like they were treasures in the merc’s gentle hands, tucked away in his heart with a kiss.

V was like a steady pressure on a wound, stopping the blood loss so Kerry could coagulate, leave the bad days behind. A solid rock, a steady and calming presence while he sometimes lost his mind, catching him before he spiralled too far. On his side, the rockerboy had to pry the merc open with a fucking crowbar . It was driving Kerry insane, how much he could poke and prod and pull without causing so much as a ripple on the surface. Tough skin, light bones, steady aim and soft eyes. He had to sit him down, coax the words out of him with gentle pushes or a rough hand depending on the days, red coughed up with sometimes anger, sometimes fear, hidden deep below the untapped well of sadness. Sometimes they were quieter emotions, vicious in their self-reflection, splitting feelings that expanded with Johnny’s presence. The weight of his regrets, his mistakes, his mortality and the never-ending race to the end.

I’ll drag you out of hell myself if I have to.

Kerry could have easily said that the night he had made that promise he wasn’t meaning it. After all, it was all just some playful words uttered to make V smile, and god knows V was the first to expect him to jump ship once things got too real, too bad . They talked about it, Kerry concerned that this is what his input had thought would happen, that it was the reason why V had kept silent about how shit his situation’s gotten. The discussion didn’t go smoothly, ending with the both of them with voices raw from yelling and huddled on the steps of the villa for a shred of hope in the clusterfuck of their destiny in Night City. 

“ Fuck, V! Talk to me, you never tell me anything and I’m fucking afraid! ” He had ripped the admission out for V, who, for once, didn’t brush away the care he thought he didn’t deserve with an ‘I’m fine, it’s fine’ . 

“I want to know I can trust you to tell me about this stuff.”

“I know.”

“Shit, V. It’s fuckin’ important. I want - fuck, I don’t know. Wanna be part of this . Don’t keep that stuff away from me.”

“ ‘M sorry.”

“Don't be, I know you meant to do me right, just-'' Kerry sighs, deflating with the weight of his anxiety. “ doesn’t make you weak, y’know? If you have stuff going on, I’m here, I’ve been here for a while.”

So V sat there and spilled his guts about everything . Vulnerable, small, with his back hunched, face turned to the ground and his voice raw from the force of his emotional turmoil. Shaking hands found solace in the twisting of the golden band around his middle finger, a gift from his lover, and it disarmed Kerry completely.

It was overwhelming . For him, for V, because all the things unsaid before were chipping away, and V was afraid giving them his voice would mean his fate had won over him. They spent the rest of the night talking, shared the pain for what they couldn’t cure, held what they had, and built on new grounds a tower of hope as the sun rose on a new day.

Kerry saw how easily V had slipped into his life, essential in the ebb and flow of his existence, and he hoped with every fibre of his being that he managed to be the grounding presence V needed just as much as him. The memory of the night in the badlands and his words, I’ll drag you out of hell myself if I have to clinging to his mind, conviction growing with every passing day.

Not because of guilt, or pity, but because until V finds his own monument to topple and perish in the flames of its destruction - a scenario that plagued his nightmares - he might as well make the best out of what they had and be there where he was needed. With who he himself needed. There had been some more ‘you don’t have to do this for my sake ’s which were always answered with V being tackled with kisses and an armful of Kerry.

He had been there every step of V planning the heist on the Crystal Palace, composing Nomads in space and preparing to use it as a giant ‘fuck you’ distraction to the suits lodged up there in orbit, his own little brand of revolt and chaos. Mostly to the rockerboy’s insistence, V poured over every exit routes, few and far in-between as they were, still enough to appease the nerves of his input somewhat.

On the day, Kerry spent hours pacing around the apartment, high on stress and sleep deprivation.

“Kerry, put that down. You’re gonna scare the sandwich. What even are you making that for? Del’s waiting for you.” V takes the butter knife from a nervous Kerry who was now fussing at the kitchen, around it, distracting himself with what he could find in the fridge. He grumbles, frowning, which tugs at V’s core. “What, were you planning on assaultin’ Arasaka on your lonesome with it?”

“If I have to!” Kerry bursts and throws his hands up in the air, turning to V and biting at his nail.

“You take your meds?”

“Yeah.”

“And you sure you’re good? ‘Seem a little out of it. Yesterday, too.”

“Just tired.” And before Kerry marches on a warpath he quickly adds “Ker, everything’s fine. Will be fine.”

“Mhm.”

“We spent a month planning this thing. ‘Sides, I won’t be alone up there.” V rationalizes, maybe more to himself than the other.

Kerry bites his lips, eyes roaming the kitchen counter and tapping his foot to a rapid tempo. Their eyes meet, the smile V had tried to keep concealed for his input’s sake breaking free. Kerry throws his hands up in defeat. “Alright fine, fine . But at the first sign of shit going sideways you call me, alright? If I have to pull you out of there myself, I will- but not before kicking your ass.”

“Yessir.”

“Ok. Ok.” He sighs, expelling some of his worries out, grabbing V’s face and meeting their lips for a quick kiss. He pulls back, leaning on the counter to get one final appraisal to V’s appearance, inconspicuous compared to his regular wardrobe. He was stalling, but they had to do this if he wanted a chance at seeing the man he loves healthy again, at seeing him stand strong and free like Kerry knew he deserved.

This had to be it.

“I’ll see you up there. And don’t be late . ”He gave one last good slap to his input’s ass, for good luck , as he passed to embark the Delamain transport.

Kerry had barely been there for two hours and he was already bouncing around backstage like an addict looking for his next fix. Maybe he was, in a way, but his big score came in the shape of slow, shy smiles on his input’s face, which was nowhere in sight and it was driving him insane . The staff had pointedly stayed out of his way as he snapped at the sound system, the instruments, the lighting, drank enough coffee to warrant a heart attack and chain-smoked the pack he had stolen from his lover the day before. He stayed clear of booze and drugs, keeping his mind alert in case of an emergency, in case V needed him to jump in the fray with his gun out and god, was he just about ready for it now.

Weyland was posing as station security and he came to visit Kerry once, if only to make sure on V’s orders the rockerboy hadn’t set the carpet on fire or worse . It melted Kerry to think that his input was thinking about him even in the midst of it all. Then he shooed Wayland, grumbling about him not being at his post, and the man had the grace to laugh and nod to the rockerboy on his way back.

V had sent him one text, furtive picture of a camera feed from the security grid he was merged into. It was of a spacious room, what Kerry could guess was a lab of some sort with one large coffin-looking case in the middle of it and two tables full of briefcases. The walls were lined with tubes, not unlike the ones he had seen at the Afterlife when visiting V, and he didn’t dwell too much on what fucked up experiments were stocked inside. It was simply titled ‘ bingo’ . 

Kerry didn’t bother answering, knowing V was probably busy setting up the finishing touches. His own part of the show was nearing, literally, as the stand-in band arrived and were getting ready for the night.

Kerry had been halfway through the bridge of Last descent when finally, finally the two half-lit silhouettes came into view of the panoramic window facing the stage. One of them waved, who he assumed was V. For a second, all his worries alleviated and he wondered how he even allowed himself to doubt the plan, to doubt his input, who was nothing less than a professional. The merc who had withstood all abuses a twisted destiny had thrown at him, stolen from Arasaka once and now twice, tempted his fate and came back from the dead just to lay with him by the poolside and complain about the heat. Skilled, silent and deadly, heart twice as big as it had any right to be. Floating off to space to retrieve all of their hopes contained in a box, and it spurred Kerry to scream into the mic with renewed fervour.

He counted two songs, and then the power went out, just as planned. The events ticking the little boxes in Kerry’s mind were a reassurance in the chaos that followed, wealthy and pompous pricks screeching as objects and people started to float. Weyland came to grab him as Kerry tuned to their private channel, listening as Nix gave them a countdown for the power reinitialization and mapping their course in the now gravityless station.

“Where’s V?” Kerry asked neither Weyland nor Nix in particular, stomach twisting with worry over his lover’s radio silence.

“ With me, he’s with me .” It was Rogue, a little out of breath. “ Something scrambled his systems, can’t use the halo .” There is a pause, during which she chuckles. “ His leg’s a deadweight, but we’re managing. Should arrive onboard in a sec .”

Nix tells them to take a sharp turn, avoiding security as Kerry nods, gun in hand, finding his voice again “take care of him for me.” Weyland finds the suits intended for their escape nestled behind a wall panel, tossing one to the rockerboy.

Kerry felt nauseous, disoriented with no concept of up or down and the suit hissing around his neck as the threat of the infinite expanse of space swallowed all sounds, shadows with unreachable lights and it feels like swimming into the abyss.

His mind slips, lump in his throat as the Afterlife merc clips them off from the Crystal Palace, grabbing onto Kerry with a “ don’t look down ” and a laugh as he pushes them off towards the shuttle, Earth coming into view for Kerry’s heart to hammer as he flips two birds to the grey orb. The gesture makes Weyland’s laugh resound again, smile easing some of the stress off from Kerry’s coiled nerves as they glide steadily to the shuttle door.

The pressurization hisses around them and  Kerry nearly rips his helmet off, never a fan of confining spaces. He pulls at the second door, pushing it out of the way with frustration and nearly trips over himself and the suit halfway off his legs as he looks everywhere inside.

“Kerry.”

He turns to see Rogue beckoning him closer, the shape of V slumped unconscious on the ground, next to the metal case. Kerry’s eyes snap to Nix, wired into his input to monitor his vitals, and without hesitation, the netrunner starts debriefing them. “he’s stable, just passed out the moment he got on board. Don’t know for sure what happened in the station. Could have been some kind of last stand from the dwellers we didn’t account for, even with both of us digging in there - though, I’d honestly be surprised. He seems ok, but better get him to the ripper soon.” And Rogue nods, already on the line with the specialists they have waiting for them on touchdown.

“I’ll get it ready. Weyland?”

“Should be there in a ‘couple.”

And Kerry stays silent as he helps Rogue pull V up onto the bench, more comfortable than the cold press of the metal ground. The rockerboy was maybe a little bit in shock, the relief of having made it not yet blanketing the stress of seeing V pale and unconscious and his limbs feel stiff as he runs a hand in V’s damp hair. It had gotten longer in the last few months, annoying the other but Kerry thought it just made him more handsome. Maybe I should have told him .

He rips his eyes away, opting to peer at the small window of the metal coffin taking most of the space in the tight shuttle, frost obscuring a face framed with shadows he knew all too well.

The moment they had touched down, V’s vitals started dropping, like he had politely held on long enough to save Kerry the embarrassment of a heart attack while on board the shuttle. Everything happened in a blur of shouting and desperation as the people who had been selected to aid them rushed to assist. Kerry recognized a few faces, Panam being the one that took a second to look at him in the eyes and squeeze his shoulder to shake him out of his stupor.

“C’mon rockstar, he’ll pull through.” And they both ignore her voice shaking as she turns to put in motion her own part of the plan, departing with a few other nomads to create a distraction, a grand last stand faked for future funerals. The rest orbit around the coffin and V, various professionals and friends doing their best. There was no time to greet any of them as they were all shoved inside two Delamain convoys, taking off to return to the city.

Time was running out , but somehow they made it in time to pull V back from the brink of death, again and again, his brain activity becoming erratic and Kerry’s hands trembling with an unhealthy mix of fear and hope. A whine, coughed up with blood, flows out of V’s mouth.

“He’s in pain.”

“I know.”

“Give him something. ”

“That pain may be the only thing keeping him alive right now.”

They pulled V out of the vehicle alongside Johnny’s body and the briefcase. They carry him inside, and Kerry feels so light he might as well be floating up the stairs until he is stopped by Vik’s firm hand on his shoulder pushing him away. Kerry was pulled out of the room when V started convulsing on the chair, Misty guiding him out outside to the garden with a steady hand and orders to stay put that barely registered in Kerry’s panic.

“Please, can you two keep an ear out for the Aldecaldos?” She holds out a talkie, modified tech making it look heavy. A hand, not Kerry’s, reaches for it and it startles him out of his stupor, for the first time noticing Rogue was right by his side.

“We’ll make sure they’re alright.”

“Thanks, Rogue.” She smiles, thin and nervous as she rushes back inside to help with the procedures.

“C’mon Ker,” she tugs Kerry by the forearm, familiar in the mirror of this specific scenario that had taken place fifty years prior. This time, there’s no jagged edges of anger, just… sickly heartache and Kerry feels like his blood was drained from his body. The focus of the plan helped dull it, and he clears his throat as he follows Rogue to a cluster of seats around a low table, already covered in maps and radio equipment. “Gotta make sure Night City’s bad boy dies on official records.”

“Right, yeah. Let’s - let’s do this.”

Fourteen hours pass, and Kerry watched the metal towers stretch with the horizon’s light. His eyes felt heavy, head full of cotton and heart sunk low in his chest. He takes a deep breath, taking in the steady rustle of the palm trees, the barely-there buzz from the pool and people down in the street. It brought along a strange sense of calm, exhaustion prominent in his mind. He reopens his eyes and turns at the sound of a door opening, Misty coming down the steps to tiptoe on the concrete with a medical gown thankfully devoid of blood. “can’t sleep?” She settles down next to him, legs folded to her chest.

Kerry finds his voice again, glad for the distraction of her company. “ As if . V’s flatlining on the operation table and I’m sitting out here with my thumbs up my fucking ass.”

Misty gives him a warning look, but her eyes remain open. “I get how it feels, I do. But I think we did everything we could. We all had our part to play, and you did yours by helping up there.”

And they fall back into silence for a little while, both of them observing life slowly seeping back into the arteries of the city. “Seems like fate, doesn’t it? Everyone drawn to V are insomniacs.”

And when he turns to her, her eyes were fixed on him. Two orbs mirroring his soul. Kerry swallows. She offers a hand. “Wanna go back in? They’re stable enough.”

The door hisses open again as they near it, this time to reveal Rogue red-handed in making a hasty exit, coat flung on her arm as she presses her fingers to her mouth. Kerry reaches out to her, knowing exactly what was going on behind those piercing eyes, now full of old pains.

“I have to go. It’s…” it’s a lot . “I need to take some time for myself.”

“Yeah, I get it,” he says, because he does. Both of them had a lot to work through still, but Kerry found himself reborn in the face of the challenges, electricity through his veins even as he felt the heartache, while Rogue had endured much more, weighted the soul of an old warrior, had it all deconstructed into tiny boxes in the recess of her mind to never be opened. Today, they overflowed with grief.

“You know where to reach me,” he offers, letting her go with a reassuring squeeze to her shoulder, and she gives a genuine smile, if a little faint.

“ Thanks .” It was nearly whispered, breathed out as she pushed on to the Delamain waiting on the terrasse. Kerry takes a second to watch her go, steeling himself for what was to come, nerves ablaze with both excitement and anxiety.

Inside, they’re met with Vik slumped in one of the bland placeholder recliners, head tilted back and snoring. Misty puts a hand on his shoulder to shake him and immediately he jumps awake. “Easy, Vik, didn’t mean to startle you. Kerry wants to go see them.”

The ripper doc pinch at his nose bridge, a bone-deep sigh escaping him. There’s a pause, filled with the not-so-distant tv broadcasting news of Arasaka losing its grip and a certain beloved merc dying. “Yeah, should be fine. Brigitte and Nix managed to hotwire a connection between Silverhand and V. They’re still precarious for the moment, but holding on. I gotta go get some horse tranquillizer for that bastard to sleep,” he mumbles exasperatedly the last sentence, settling back in the seat. “Just gonna catch a wink or two. Wake me up if anything happens.”

Allowed to the second floor, Kerry’s met with the steady beeping of V's heart on the machine, matched that of Johnny’s. They were still plugged into each other, minds melding in the hope it would regulate both of them after the critical state they had been left in. His eyes instantly jump to V, reclined in his chair with the screens surrounding him like a digital halo, blue light overpowering the early morning rays seeping in from the glass wall opposite him.

“ Oh, V ,” he murmurs, voice wavering with worries choking him up as he steps closer to the immobile man. His eyes catch movement from the other side of the room, and he tears his gaze away from his lover to look around.

Johnny’s head snaps around to the sound of the cautious footsteps, Kerry first met with a scowl that quickly turns into a head-splitting smile. It was devoid of malice, perhaps a little incredulous, full of wonder that he had thought lost years ago.

“Kerry! Come ‘ere.” Johnny manages all of half a step off his bed, arms previously wide open to beckon the other closer flying to catch himself on the metal frame of the bed as his wobbly legs make him slip, Kerry rushing to help him back to a sitting position without pulling off any of the cables connected to him. He tries not to notice the way Johnny clings to his shoulder when his hand fists in the back of his shirt, firm hug disguised as simple support. Kerry knows , feels welcomed all the same.

It’s good to be back.

“Holy shit Johnny,” he exhales, blinking away the marvel of feeling his old friend’s warmth after all this time, after the mourning, after the reunion, after everything . “You doin’ ok?”

It earns him a scoff, amused smile dancing across the other’s face, corner of his eyes crinkling with joy, smoothing over the usually prominent frown. Johnny’s free hand, the one that hadn’t let go of his shirt yet, came to cup the other’s cheek and give it a gentle pat, old habits secured back between them. “I’m here, aren’t I?”

There’s a second, during which Johnny’s eyes shift to V’s prone form, a shadow passing in front of his eyes that he knew from observing V, silent conversation happening somewhere between them. He takes the opportunity to really take in Johnny.

At first glance, he was still the same insufferable bastard, with his long hair framing dark eyes, although they shone brighter than the usual mad spark of rage in them, pale skin from years of being just a body hidden away from the sun, bags under his eyes, still with fresh stubbles - then cybernetic scars lined his frame just under the collarbone, subtle , but they were new, replacing old used to’s . His fingers came to trail the ones decorating Johnny’s left shoulder, devout of any chrome, seeming so... Alien . A weight, an anchor, stolen from him. The rockerboy’s gaze snaps to the contact point, turning away like it had cut him , eyes cast down in his shame when Kerry shot him an inquisitive look.

He attempts a bitter smile, quickly overtaken by anger and - guilt?

“Damn ‘saka fuckers. They had fun cutting away at my body until it was nothing but a synthetic meat shell.” His hands retract abruptly, clenching into fists to hide the fidgeting of his limbs.

A series of consecutive beeps are produced from V’s side of the room, monitor previously lit up with a simple ‘V’ glitching with the beat of a conversation that catches both their attention.

“Easy for you to say. They just cubed another piece of brain into you, while I was pulled apart and experimented on, shredded like a piece of meat thrown to the fuckin’ dogs!”

There is more electronic noises, making an argument known to Kerry.

“New soul my fuckin’ ass. I ate yours, don’t count.”

“It’s our soul. Part of it s’yours.”

The last words resonate, deafening, taking the lull and tone of V, projected through Johnny’s vocal cords. It startled both of the men, shutting the tirade up instantly as shadows cast over the two conscious men as they stare at each other, V’s monitors giving way to more incoherent beeping, none urgent, none indicative of a greater threat. It takes all moment for Kerry to process it, and then realization dawns on him.

V wasn’t in his fucking body. Fear rolls down his guts and spine, torrent of panic around his lungs and head.

“V - “

“He’s here, he’s alright.” Johnny’s eyes shift to the side again, and if it had been anyone else, or more accurately, if it had been fifty years prior, he would have been inclined to believe Johnny had just abandoned the interaction. But he had seen that same back and forth before, knew the shift for what it was. 

So he waits.

“Our- his body just needs to be reset,” there’s more beeping, and Johnny groans, waving his hand dismissively. “Yeah - alright - fuckin’ Christ can ya just - slow down ! I’m doing my best here, give a guy a fuckin’ chance!” Johnny shakes his hands, frustrated frown on his face until V’s beeping regulates again.

“Says his body spent too long with me inside of it to be a clean transition, would be fatal any other way. So, he’s makin’ some... adjustments .” The last word pulls a grimace from Johnny, barefoot tapping annoyedly, or maybe nervously, but he doesn’t stop projecting that gratuitous air of confidence in himself, now extending all the way to V.

Cute, but Kerry wasn’t going to settle for V’s overarching explanations and Johnny’s poisonous presumptivety.

“What the fuck does that mean, Johnny?”

“Fuck, Kerry,” Johnny was waving his hands around in frustration, clasping them back down on his knees for effect. “ ‘M not good with the technobabble and neither’re you. V’s alright . Gonna be alright. They fixed his fuckin’ chip, now he’s fixing his brain, his body. He’s fine! ” By the last shout, Kerry knew, he knew that it was all blanket reassurance over a very real worry that it might be too late, that V might not-

Kerry takes in a deep breath, too sharp for it to do him any good, tide of fear bubbling into anger.

“Oh yeah ? You sure about that, Johnny? Or y’just sayin’ that to reassure your fuckin ’ self you didn’t kill my mainline? Fuckin’ months with you rotting him from the inside-” His words were thrown with anger, speared at his old bandmate, half deserved. It simmered instantly, replaced with another stab of heartache.

Poor little Eurodyne, never could reshape his aches into rage like Johnny.

“Kerry...”

“It’s - I don’t want to hear it. Fuck it. You’re both back. Gotta be enough.”

But when the fuck is it really enough?

Kerry exhales a shaky breath he wished had sounded amused, or maybe relieved. It was a wet choking sound all the same, with his vision blurring and his hands forgetting what to do with themselves as he shifted and tried looking anywhere but the pale body of his lover laid mortuarily over the netrunner chair. But the other monitors surrounding him indicate a steady heartbeat, and the brain scans have activity, if it was a little chaotic. Kerry swallows a sob and tilts his head back to prevent any tears from escaping.

“Shit - I, I thought this was it.” The weight of the last few weeks, hell, months , finally catches up to him, crushing him and it’s a lot all at once, it’s too much. He stumbles, Johnny’s firm hand pulling him backwards to sit on the bed as Kerry collapses in front of his old friend and the ghost of his lover. Johnny’s fingers are feather light on Kerry’s spine at first, forgetting what being tangible felt like — and then he’s grabbing Kerry’s wrist to uncover his face from his hands. 

“You know, he’s… V’s done the impossible a couple of times. He told you about the landfill?”

Morosely, Kerry nods, weak “ yeah ” uttered, wiping away the threat of noticeable tear tracks to no avail.

“Shit, what’re you hidin’ for, man. Thought you were past that now” Johnny breathes out a humourless laugh, twisted with fondness . He lays his hands on Kerry’s shoulders, giving a grounding shake. 

“Listen, Ker. The landfill wasn't exactly the most gracious walk out of hell, but the fucker did it. Seen him die twice - wait no, make it thrice, and every single time he would come back asking for more .” He points to Kerry’s chest with his index, driving his point home. “More living, more pain, more time spent in this fucked up world. Faster, harder. Wanted to punch his fuckin’ teeth in for it. I mean, this whole thing was to wake up people to the meat-grinder world. Couldn’t let him get away with playing into it like he was grateful for it.”

“Obviously” it was noted with a tentative smile, but Kerry recognized the itch for a smoke in Johnny’s fingers fidgeting with the seam of his shirt, hands still framing his hunched shoulders, giving Kerry no place to run or hide. So instead, he reached to his pocket, to the last smoke from V’s pack and he lights it to share with his old bandmate.

“ Obviously . Thanks,” Then, he smiles, disarming with this melancholic look in his eyes “fuckin’ missed this.” They feed their addiction in silence for a second, enough to quiet Kerry’s nerves, interrupted only when the stick is nearly down to the filter and Kerry leaves it for Johnny.

“Anyways. then, I don’t know... There was that other time, at the GIM, where he just fuckin’ took a bolt to the brain… I was worried, angry. Another good soul lost to the fucking wolves, was just another tragedy in this city. But I had to sit there and feel it, had nothing else to do but look at him, looking way worse than he does now. Can’t even begin to describe the fuckin’ heart attack he gave me when he started breathing again. Maybe it was the chip, I sure as shit would like to take credit for bringing him back. But a dreamer like that doesn’t owe his survival to chance, or fate, or whatever the fuck passes as karma these days.”

“Point is, he can do it again. I’m not saying that he’s got some fucked up magic powers, or that he’s some holy messiah - ‘m not that delusional yet. Just that he does this stuff to survive. And I’ve never seen anyone fight this hard for it, just be able to live another day and remember dead friends, or pet his fucking cat, or see those he loves just one last time. It’s something that you can’t really forget once you see it. Like liquid in the iron grip this twisted City has on all of us - just slips right through it, makes his own way. I thought I had it in me to break it, had enough fire in me to lit the fuse and make it all blow. I wanted to die for it.

But V? He gave up on death long ago, he’s not about to let it take ‘im now.”

“Yeah-“ they’re interrupted by another series of consecutive beeps, Johnny disentangling from his friend to recline on one arm, staring at the space just behind Kerry, toying with the burned-down cig in his metal hand before placing it on the side table. “He wants you to know he’s happy he got to know you, and he’s looking forward to the future like a lovesick puppy. What you’ll do, how hard you’ll shine, y’know” he waves dismissively with his tattooed.

“He used those words?”

There’s more beeping, and Johnny laughs, deep and carefree. “Close enough. V’s no lyricist.”

“Thanks, Johnny.”

He gets a fond smile and a chrome hand on his knee. “Anytime.”

It had taken nearly two weeks for Johnny and V to be able to get back on their feet. The bassist was in a considerably better state than his companion, to which he was practically glued to the moment their minds had been unlinked. 

Kerry had watched with a morbid obsession the brain scans. His and Johnny’s twin minds. They had similar curves in their improvement, the ingrams in them taking their place, making it home. Johnny was turning a blank canvas into a field of colour while V rewrote all the damage, see his cheeks turn a healthy shade of pink, his fingers warm up with better circulation, his ribs fill in without the constant exhaustion. See V take back the time that had been stolen from him, and Johnny by his side. When he wasn’t unconscious, V liked to spend his time lazing in the sunlight, barefooted in the garden or lounging in one of the recliner chairs by the pool.

Johnny had left after a while, said his goodbyes and headed out to join the Aldecaldos, unable to find where he fits in this untarnished future yet, needing to take some distance from V, from the pain and memories, from the curse of Night City. On his own again, V was growing restless, not used to simply being , nothing shooting at him, nothing to do, and his unspent energy and frustration was starting to rub off on everyone. So, Rogue came up with a solution. It came under the guise of her needing a vacation, handing over the reins of the Afterlife to V in her absence. He took to it like he was born for it, ruling from a distance at first, a healthy dose of work in the form of intrigues, contracts, rumours and information brokering.

As time went on, Kerry and V let themselves pile their lives in the penthouse. V had taken over the armoury, tucking the netrunner chair in there, hidden away in a corner so they wouldn’t have to think about it outside of its room. It was V’s solution, an amalgamation of powerful minds, experience and skills borrowed from all corners of Night City and Earth’s orbit. But V had made it work, had done the work. It wasn’t what Kerry had expected. Maybe it had been naive of him to hope for a miracle pill, something V could have just swallowed and have been whole again. Instead, what he got was more sleepless nights staring at V’s inert shape in the vault, more days spent strumming at his strings in the fear that if he’d stop his whole world would too, more red stains found in the sink in the morning.

But for every bad day there was one good, then two, a week, a month. It kept going and going. Relapses, times he found V passed out on the floor with Nibbles yelling for attention by his side, experimental pills that would accelerate the progress but numb V and adjustment to the chair and its Supernova program that were painful to experience. He hated it he hated it he hated it . Wish he could burn it and leave the ghosts behind.

But it helped V. It helped so much so the rockerboy nearly forgot the sick figure that haunted his dreams, for the first time getting to see V, the real V. It had never occurred to Kerry that their story had only begun when he was already fading . A shadow of who he was. 

V was never going to topple monuments. He was becoming one .