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Chapter Text

It wasn’t cheap, executing the heist of the century that is.  It wasn’t cheap to maintain their transportation or stock up on supplies, it wasn’t cheap to acquire insider information and it wasn't cheap to run a series of operations set as mere preamble for the Cure Mother Prime heist.  If the rumors were true, it would be well worth the trouble.  

It wasn’t cheap, so that’s how they found themselves in the heart of Galactic Stars First Bank, hacking into the on sight servers to relieve the institution of surplus creds.  

The whole affair had gone smoothly, down to Rita’s ‘Juno proof black box’.  The instrument allowed them to disarm the electronic security system with ease and extract the necessary information from the database.  It also sported Rita’s flare for the dramatic by making absurdly cheerful chirping sounds when connecting and completing commands.  

Juno was pacing behind him, restless as ever.  Keeping an eye out for the security.  

“Isn’t that damned thing done yet?  We’ve been here too long.” and he continued his anxious treed across the floor.  Back and forth, back and forth.  

Nureyev gave a non-committal hum.  “Careful not trip dear.  This space is cramped enough as it is.”  A long finger probed the screen of the black box, he wished Rita had thought to install some sort of progress bar-   

Juno had been particularly…. vocal… . about the myriad of concerns that drew his keen eye.  What Vespa might affectionately refer to as his whining .  He gets like this on big jobs.  Nureyev had become skilled at half listening to Juno when he got like this.  Flagging important information and letting the vague grumbling slip into obscurity.  They all have their different coping styles, who is he to deprive the one he loves of theirs?

“And what’s that supposed too- Ahhh!” there was a loud clatter and some cursing.

Nureyev didn’t even turn “I did try to warn you.”

“Ransom-” his voice took on a cautionary note.

“Another minute Detective,” the box had given a warning chirp signifying it was nearing the end of records.  He did not want to withdraw prematurely “the download hasn’t been completed yet.” 

“Did Buddy say anything about booby traps?”

The lights danced across the black box, “What?  Oh, no.  There was nothing on the schematics to suggest their presence.”  he went back to monitoring the download, just as his mind sorted this question into the important category.  “Why do you ask?”

“I think I found a floor switch-”

“A floor-” he turned looking down and saw a tile recessed into the otherwise flush floor.  The chamber filled with a hissing sound.  Could it be gas? It was clear, they had to leave.  Now. 

They were too far from the door, some hundred meters away, which meant the vents-  A good thief always had multiple escape routes after all, even in a building like this-  He could see all the possible roots, outlined in red in his mind’s map.  The stares were no longer an option and the elevator shaft would be to risky which left- 

“Juno, head for the center vent on your right!” he instructed, hurriedly disconnecting the black box from the server.  He hoped it had enough time to store the data- it had to be enough. 

“On it!” Juno sprinted ahead, sliding on his knees to the vent pulling out his plasma cutter and making a few rushed incisions.  Not a moment too soon.  Panels were sliding open on the walls, small tubes slid out of the orifices.  A great ticking sound filled the corridor, getting faster and faster.  Juno glanced side to side then back at Nureyev “Ransom?” he voiced as the ticking reached a fever pitch.  The first flash of color slid across his vision, pining off the tile opposite.  “Ransom, Get down!” 

But there was no time!

Juno rushed, flattening him to the floor as the air was infused with cyan blue feathers, strong arms wrapped around his shoulders, protecting his face. 

“Juno! I-” he panted, having the wind knocked out of him. His detective wasn’t paying attention though.  

“How the Hell, did we not know about this!”  he was shouting over the sound of ricocheting metal.

“Love-” Nureyev said as soon as he could breathe again, “The vent-” 

“Yeah.” He rolled off, keeping low and belly crawling through the opening, Nureyev on his heels.  He took a moment to snag a few of the projectiles before receding into the security of the air ducts.  

“Are you alright?” Juno asked over his shoulder.  

Nureyev took quick stock, everything seemed to be intact and there weren’t any unwanted punctures-  That was a stroke of luck. 

“Quite, thanks to you.”  He gave an affectionate squeeze to an ankle “and you?”

“Gonna need more than a few technicolored darts to take me down.” he said cheekily “Like a master thief who memorized the map to this god damned maze.  Mind sliping ahead?”

“Well, it’s going to be a tight squeeze, but, I know you don’t mind Detective.” 

“Save it, Ransom.  We gotta keep moving.” Juno was right of course.  

“All work and no play is dreadfully dull love.” Nureyev pouted, but couldn’t resist a nip at Juno’s colar as he shimmied past.  Sharp teeth grazing warm skin- he was rewarded with a delightfully flustered expression.  Some of the tension easing from Juno’s shoulders.  Which was good, because he wasn’t going to like the next part at all.  Sure enough, he screamed all the down the shoot.  So much for stealth- 

With Nureyev up front, they moved swiftly.  Even with Juno grumbling about giving a lady a little warning.  The vents were mercifully free of traps, but that didn’t mean that the floors they darted across were safe.  Juno took out guards and drones with a few well aimed stuned shots.  

“My Detective, you’re getting quite good at that.” he grinded, with a sly glance through his lashes before disappearing.  

His voice crackled with warmth “Less talk, more cut- Hey, wait for me!”  

Nureyev loved this.  Loved this test of strength, endurance and whits.  The thrill of the escape was intoxicating.  Above all, he loved the company.  He was acutely aware of Juno’s presence at his side, the sound of his breath, the shifting of his limbs, the glances of him between floors, coat tails twirling as he set up for the next shot and the brief moments their eyes met.  He loved what a team they were.  

By the time they got to the ground floor, Juno was breathing hard, his hands slipping on the slick metallic surface.  His grumbling had gotten more intense with every floor dropped, his aim more... unsure.  Fatigue, no doubt.  He wasn’t as accustomed to navigating crawl spaces as Nureyev.  The vents seemed to have treated him rougher than anticipated, poor dear.

Unfortunately, Nureyev couldn’t focus on that now.  No doubt the security would know how they were moving from floor to floor.  The building was in full lock down mode, if the red pulsating light was anything to go by.  Sure enough, as soon as they punched through their last grate, a guard shouted into their coms, their blaster trembling in novice hands.  

It was another stroke of luck. 

Nureyev dove forwards, latching on to their wrist while they were locked in indecision and twisted the arm up behind their back in a flourish.  “Juno!” 

A shot was fired, the guard slumped bonelessly to the ground.  Nureyev relieved their blaster of the laser cartridge and the corridor filled with the reverberations of many, many footsteps.  

“Aw Hell !  How many of them are there?!” Juno griped.  “This wasn’t what we were told to prepare for!”  he shouted to no one in particular.  That was true.  If all had gone according to plan, there shouldn’t  have been more than two guards per floor-  Even with tripping the alarms, there shouldn't be this many people in the building at this hour.  The bank seemed to be overcompensating for- for something .

“Cover me.” Nureyev said, darting towards the door.  Using his own blaster to incapacitate one unlucky employee of the Galactic Stars First Bank .  The weapon set to stun, to satisfy his lady’s- sensibilities .  

Juno swore loudly behind him, making his insides flip in excitement? Nerves? he couldn’t say- then all he could hear was the air sizzle with blaster fire.  In one smooth motion he extracted the black box from a pocket and connected it to the doors panel.  There was nothing to do but wait for it to do it’s work, to set them free.  Moments like these were his least favorite parts of a mission.  

The seconds ticked by and Nureyev’s excitement gave way to a writhing bubbling mass of anxiety.  He couldn’t shake the idea of being cornered, pinned down like a butterfly in a glass case.  Waiting for a little black box to decide whether or not they were getting out of the building.  

He glanced behind at Juno, his back to him, framed in the brilliant flash of blaster fire, like the goddess he was.  A reminder that he had someone to rely on.  They were a team.

The next thing he knew the black box was chirping cheerfully and the door slid open.  

“Juno!” he called, unclipping a few pepper smoke bombs from his chest.  

“R-Right!” he called, hot on his heels.  

They took the steps two at a time, bursting into the open night air, twin moons flooding the city with light.  Harder to hide but but there were plenty of shadows to slip into and the security would also have to deal with night blindness.  It may be enough for them to get away.  

Nureyev tossed the peper smoke bombs into the bank as they fled.  There were shouts and a string of desperate coughs.  The red light illuminating the miasma pouring from the open door turning it into a hellish portal.  

They ran towards the city streets, trying to put as much distance between them and their pursuers as possible.  Juno’s stride, normally a steady pound, was growing fainter.  For the second time that day he heard a cry from behind and a skidding thud.  

Nureyev’s insides twisted.  Turning to see Juno sprawled out on the cobblestones and a red thread of light trained on his back.  A few security guards had made it out, the farthest from the door had their pistol drawn, at the ready.  

Changing direction seemingly mid air, Nureyev sprang back, unceremoniously yanking Juno to his feet by his collar as the first shots were fired.  

He couldn’t help the cry that tore out of his throat, as the seering white pain slid it’s way across his leg, knocking him into Juno.  The man stiffened, bracing him as best he could, concern on his lips-  Now wasn’t the time, the ground sparked with blaster fire.   

“This way-” Nureyev rasped, pulling the Detective to the nearest ally way out of the line of fire.  A timer set in his mind, counting down the minutes and seconds before he would really start feeling the wound.  It felt- bad-  Not even a minute fresh and he was already forced to favor that leg.  But he knew he had time before the pain truly kicked in. 

Till then- well- they needed to put as much distance between themselves and their pursuers as possible.

“You’re hurt!” Juno gasped, barely keeping pace to Nureyev’s long legged strides as they transitioned from a full sprint to slipping from shadow to shadow.  

“Not- ideal-” Nureyev affirmed through gritted teeth; regretting that his studies hadn’t been as deliberate with the city plans as the building.  They were already off his planned routes.  What's more, the pain was starting to scramble his internal navigation system.  He could just detect the signs of the chase.  

One thought came back over and over again, ‘ too slow, too slow, too slow too-’

Whether it was luck or the pepper smoke bombs or the pair’s stealth; they managed to put some distance between themselves and the bank.  Juno was lagging worse than ever, calling out Ransom with a growing sense of urgency.  It was hard to focus on that though, between the pain in his leg and that dogged need to push onwards, to escape- to-

“Ransom!  Goddamnit- I need a break!” there was something in the way his voice tore that stopped Nureyev in his tracks.  He turned to find Juno sagging against shipping crates, wrapping an arm around his middle and sucking down great gulps of air.

“We need to- to keep moving.” Nureyev said, unable to keep the strain from his voice.  “We can rest later- Detective.”

“Jus- just a minute-” Juno puffed, closing his eye and leaning over.  Nureyev hobbled closer, noting the exhausted lines on his beautiful face and the sheen of sweat.  Apparently, he needed this- Juno wouldn’t ask otherwise- and the fact he did was- significant . 

“Fine- but only a minute love-” he reached up to cup his cheek, feeling the heat roll off his flushed skin.  That was new.  He moved in closer feeling his concern deepen before he knocked his leg into a crate.  Nureyev hissed in pain.  The pulse of the burn cutting through him with every breath, every step, every-

“Christ Ransom- your leg-” Juno drew nearer, drawing the hem of Nureyev’s coat back to get a better look, but there wasn’t time for that. 

“Nothing a good skin graft and laser treatment wont mend-” he gave a tight lip smile.  Juno looked like he was going to say something more, but was mercifully cut off by a call from their coms.

“Pete, Juno, this is Buddy, report.” 

“Captain-” Nureyev greated “We’ve downloaded most of the financial files and managed to escape the facility but-” he took a steadying breath, trying to maintain his composure.  “We’re having some trouble dodging the security.”

“Ransoms hurt.” Juno added.

“A scratch.” Nureyev dismissed.  There wasn’t anything to be done at the moment.  

“You were hit by a goddamned blaster sh- ahh-!” his knees seemed to cave and Juno caught himself on the crates.  His eye closed tightly once more as he focused on breathing.  His expression twisting into something sharper- heavier.  

Something was very, very wrong-  

“Juno-” The anxiety was back, constricting his chest, threatening to overtake him as he floundered- then Buddy’s voice cut through.

“Pete’s hurt?” 

Fold it away.   Nureyev told himself.  You won't be any use to him if you lose your head! 

“It will have to wait till we get to the ship, Captain.” he said truthfully.  

There was a long pause before “Think you can make it to the rendezvous point?” her voice was clipped, almost- distracted.  Like something wasn’t going according to plan.  

“Yes- we should be able to Captain.” he said, breathing deep against the building throbs of pain in his thigh, threatening to paralyze his hip.  He wasn’t about to let Buddy Auranko down because of a scratch.  “Is there something we need to know?  Captain?” 

“Hold up your end of the bargain and we’ll do the same Pete.”

Nureyev closed his eyes and nodded “A fair arrangement Captain.” 

“Excellent, keep us apprised of your situation dears.  Buddy out.” 

Nureyev exchanged a look with Juno.  “Well that was-”

“Odd.” Juno cut in, brows crinkling with puzzlement in that way Nureyev loved.  

“I was going to say interesting but the point still stands.”

Juno opened his mouth, clearly wanting to discuss the exchange more when snatches of conversation drifted their way.  Nureyev hushed him, finger to lips, Juno picked up right away.  He couldn’t hear much but they were throwing around words like capture and shoot, it was clear who they were.  Nureyev hummed disdainfully and Juno’s hand found his own and squeezed.  It wasn’t wise to stay in one spot too long, they had to keep moving.  

“Time to go-” he grasped the Detective's hand, they had to run, they had to get out of- he moved and agony forced his leg to buckle.

Chapter Text

A brief respite, a moment to catch his breath- his thoughts-  Another throb of pain clawed its way into his gut.  At this rate he was gonna be sick-

“Ransom-” he called holding his stomach and stumbling after his partner.  The man was hobbling along faster on one good leg than Juno was managing on two- something wasn’t right about that-  He had no time to analyze as another shock gripped his core.  “Ran-som-”

They made their way into an ally shaped space- It was hard to tell what it was with the way the walls were dancing.  There was a glint of something fluid in the distance that could be water, or the shiny wrappers that kept Rita's salmon snacks from getting stale- something like a coin toss between the two-  He couldn't decide, his body was dangerously close to calling it quits.

“Ransom- god dammit- I need a break!” he gasped, allowing some nearby shipping crates to do the honor of holding a lady up.  Another spasm of pain had him bent double, sucking in great gulps of breath into his crappy, crappy lungs.

“We need to keep moving-” Nureyev hissed through gritted teeth “We can rest latter-”

“Just-a minute-” Juno found himself almost pleading.  He was concentrating on breathing, concentrating on forcing the world to still- they could afford a moment surly.  At the same time, he knew he was being needy, selfish-  Nureyev could be at the rendezvous point already; Nureyev could be safe-

A resigned sigh issued from Nureyev “Fine- but only a minute love.” he turned, reaching up to cup his cheek.  Juno found himself leaning into the touch, his hand was so cool against his skin, it felt nice.  Then a thud followed by a hiss of pain, and Nureyev was clutching at his thigh.  

“Christ Ransom- your leg-” Juno felt a sympathetic twinge as he pulled aside the hem of Nureyev’s coat to take a better look. He couldn’t see much before Nureyev withdrew but the hole in his paint leg was glistening in what little light there was.

“Nothing that a good skin graft and laser treatment wont mend-” his voice taking on it’s usual musical cadence that Juno loved so much and a flash of teeth.  Juno struggled to find the words until another wave of illness pulsed through.  His legs shook as he curled around his stomach, groaning.  

Just then, they received an incoming call.  

“Pete, Juno, this is Buddy, report.” 

“Captain-” Nureyev greeted smoothly enough.  Juno was glad, he wasn’t sure if he had it in him to do a progress report.  “We’ve downloaded most of the financial files and managed to escape the facility; however-” he took a steadying breath, trying to maintain his composure.  “We are having some trouble dodging the security.”

Juno had a gnawing suspicion Nureyev wasn’t gonna mention it, so he blurted out “Ransom’s hurt.”

“A scratch.” Nureyev dismissed, kick starting Juno’s frustration. 

“You were hit by a goddamned blaster sh- ahh-!” pain tore through, croshendowing with his emotions till his knees buckled.  He only just caught on to the crates.  His eye closed tightly once more as he focused on breathing.  His expression twisting into a grimace as he fought to regain control.  

Something was very, very wrong-  

“Juno-” The bit of anxiety was back in Nureyev’s tone.  He floundered for a moment until Buddy’s voice cut through.

“Pete’s hurt?” 

Juno lifted his head, still not trusting himself to speak, but he was looking at Nureyev now, and he was looking back.  

Nureyev puffed out a sigh “It will have to wait till we get to the ship, Captain.” it was truthful enough, Juno knew.  There wasn’t anything they could really do about it now.    

A calculating silence stretched between them “Think you can make it to the rendezvous location?” her tone was- strange- strained in all the wrong ways, but still held the classic Buddy Auranko confidence.  A few months ago, Juno may not have noticed it at all.  

Something was going on to be sure, but damn it, he trusted her.  If they needed to know something, she'd tell them.  She would-

“Yes- we should be able to Captain.” Nureyev was worrying at his bottom lip, as he did whenever he received troubling news.  Juno should know, he’d been doing it more often as of late; worrying away till their kisses tasted like iron. “Is there something we need to know?  Captain?” 

“Hold up your end of the bargain and we’ll do the same Pete.” Juno perked up.  

“A fair arrangement Captain.” 

“Excellent, keep us apprised of your situation darlings.  Buddy out.” 

Nureyev's eyebrows shot up.  “Well that was-”

“Odd.” Juno's head was spinning so that he had to close his eye and focus once more on breathing. 

“I was going to say interesting- but the point still stands.”

Anxious, Buddy was anxious about something and didn’t want to let them in on it just yet- but what could possibly make her anxious at a time like this?  He was about to pose the question to Nureyev when snatches of conversations drifted their way.  

The guards had caught up.  Nureyev shifted his weight, hissing at the movement.  Juno gave his hand a squeeze.  

“Juno-” he gasped, grasping back firmly.  A few steps was all he could manage before his leg folded.  Lurching forwards Juno just managed to catch him.  Granted, the sick feeling returned with a vengeance.  He pressed hard into Nureyev’s side, finding comfort in his familiar scent. 

Tremors, long and cruel racked through his body so hard that Juno was certain his teeth would give away their position.  

“This way” Nureyev led them down a dark street.  Juno let  him lead, trusting that whenever he took them would be better than what he could have come up with.  His stomach lurched as he missed a step- wet worming it’s way into his boot.  His eye flew open to find Nureyev leading them straight into the water.

Another drop made his lungs constrict as the cold water swallowed him up to the waist.  They ventured still deeper into the murky flowage.  

Nureyev let out a small sigh of relief, taking a moment to rest his head against the concrete of the bridge.  No sooner had they settled into their spot than the guards had rendezvous of their own above them.

They were talking- Juno was sure they were but the rushing of the water drowned out their words.  Impossible to hear anything over that racket.  Another tremor had him, all the while the pain in his stomach kept building and building.  Like small knives were shredding his insides into confetti.  The current tugged at his coat- it was hard to stay up and the putrid smell of the river drowned out Nureyev’s calone; the scent from another world- 

Lips, firm and cool pressed against his forehead.  He realized he had a death grip around Nureyev; with effort he eased his hold.  

Get a grip Steel - he tried to shake himself but all that did was make everything so much worse- Nureyev’s counting on you-he-

The pain doubled if possible, twisting-

A small moan escaped him, he all but doubled over, nose to the water, breaths coming in shallow and pained.  

“Are you alright Love?” warm pressure at his back as Nureyev’s concern got the better of him.

“F-ffine- jus’- cramping up a bit.  Didn’t expect to go swimming so soon after eat- ah!” pain, white hot and angrier than receiving a 450 volts from Rita’s self deffence coffee maker.  His legs gave out so that he was nearly fully submerged in the polluted waters; only prevented from doing so by Nureyev’s sure arms hauling him upright.  He couldn't’ help the strangled cry as it tore it’s it’s way out of his throat.  

“Juno!” for the first time in a long time, Nureyev sounded scared.  

“I’m- fine!” he bit out “I’m fine- I’m-” he took a couple of deep breaths “I’m just- not feeling great-”.  An understatement to be sure, but Nureyev would forgive him for that.  After all, they had a lot to focus on right now without Juno getting in the way.  

Mercifully, the knives in his stomach eased up.  He glanced up and caught sight of the face he loved so much, outlined in the moonlight- under normal circumstances, he’d enjoy this more.  Then again under normal circumstances, that mouth would be quirked up in a foxe’s grin instead of a hard line, brow smooth instead of pinched.  

“Time to move detective.” his voice took on the playful professional tone Juno associated with Nureyev numbing.  They slid to the far bank using the shadow of the bridge as cover.  His body felt heavy in a way that had nothing to do with his waterlogged clothes.  

Nureyev hissed, leg seizing in the shallows.  Juno lurched forwards, lodging himself firmly under arm, grateful for the steadiness of Nureyev’s body against the dizzying dance of the world.  

They hobbled from cover to cover before managing to work their way back to the tangle of urban housing units.  The buildings here were varying mixes of tall with windows too close together. 

His stomach royaled and sour saliva coated his tongue.  He was going to be sick this time for certain.  Of all the lousy times for him to have stomach trouble-  Applying pressure to the affected area only made things worse.  

“Ra-Ransm- I need- stop.”

“No time Detective, we can’t stay in the open like this.” 

It was true, there were puddles of light everywhere here.  Unlike the broken street lamps of Old Town. 

“I-” it was instant regret upon opening his mouth.  He jerked away, making his own contribution to the grime on the street.  Insides twisting and burning with the sheer force of it.  Even when there was nothing left, the dry heaves were strong enough to put him in danger of choking on his throat.  

“Juno!” there was a hand at his sodden back.  Somewhere in the back of his mind he registered that Nureyev was shaking almost as bad as he was.

He coughed his back to the world, willing his body to be done, for the hurt to stop- even for a small while.  Just- stop-

Shouts- footsteps- Nureyev pulling at his arm urging him back onto his feet, pulling him into a run.  And it hurt, dammit, it hurt so much.  

But they couldn't escape- he couldn’t-  So Juno did the only thing he was good at and pulled out his blaster; taking aim at the first shadowy figure he spotted.  The shot went wide, he shook his head vision blurring- wide again.  He cursed, forcing himself to line up the cross hairs faster this time, giving him less time to think and there!  A connection!  The flash of silver catching the guard square in the chest before they could squeeze off another shot.  

Were they safe? Were there more?  He succumbed to the ache at his core with a heartfelt groan.  He was just so dizzy-

Wham

He was plowed over by a hulking figure, the wind knocked out of his lungs on impact.  They had him pinned under muscular legs, using their height advantage to try and wrestle away his blaster.  If he was a different lady, that may have been enough to separate him from the weapon.  But he had a lifetime of being belligerent and disagreeable; like hell he was gonna let them have it, like hell. 

He jammed his forearm up into their chest, trying to keep as much space between them as possible while he fought for control.   He gasped, trying to wriggle free enough to get a knee or an elbow where it would hurt.  He was losing-     

There was a wet thunk and the guard gave a small gasp before going limp.  Nureyev roughly shoved the guard off in Juno yanking the blade out of their back.  

The scent blood filled his nostrils making the nausea return with vengeance.  

"Are you hurt?” Nureyev asked, offering a hand.  

“N-no- I- I don’t think so-” the words were badly slurred, the world spinning worse than before, so that it seemed to buck under him.

It was now Nureyev’s turn to brace Juno.  His lips pulled into a grimace over sharp teeth.  They stumbled forwards as if pulled by an invisible tether.  Juno was dimly aware of the tinny gasps of pain from the man holding him up.  

It couldn’t go on like this, it was too much.  Juno remembered the family meeting and the pirate's promise they all made to one another.  He’d hatted it then, vowing never to have to use it.  But- if it meant giving Nureyev a chance-

“Babe-” Juno gasped, “you- you need ta leave me-”

Nureyev gave no response.

“I’m sslowing ya down-” he tried again. 

More silence.  The pain was once more coming on, threatening to overtake him.  

“Ransom-”  

“I will do no such thing- Detective.” he puffed.

“Y-you’ve done it- before.” 

“These are hardly comparable situations.”

The old familiar frustration rose “I won’t be the reason you get-”

Nureyev cut him off “And we have almost arrived at our destination.  Careful-” he tugged him into a doorway as two guards shot by, tenderly holding him in place.  One guard shouting something about the bay street and an ally check.  

“You’re not- listening-” Juno rasped.  He was dead weight here, why couldn’t Nureyev see that?  

“”I’m not leaving you again Juno-” He turned, even in the dim light, he could make out those bright eyes.  The conviction behind them was enough to make him leave.  “Not if I can help it.” 

“Nnn- Ransom-”

“Move now.” He pulled him into a shared hobble, their uneven tread skittering along the walls.

Juno pressed his face into Nureyev’s side, trusting him to lead the way.  It was easy to allow himself to get sweeped up in the unsteady cadence besides him and the way their pounding feet beat a tattoo into his skull.  

There was a rustle of fabric and metal on metal.  Nureyev disentangled himself and Juno was standing alone; unmourned on undulating pavement.  The throbbing of his stomach was building into a deafening crescendo.

“Nureyev-” he called softly carefully so as not to alarm him.  “N-eyev- some- somethings s' wrong-” he stumbled, holding onto his stomach tighter than what would be recommended.  

“Just a moment longer.” the words were punctuated by a resounding click and once more Nureyev’s arms were around him, guiding him inside the entrance swooshing closed behind.

“Nureyev-” his voice was soft now-pleading.  It hurt so goddamn much “some-somethings wrong-” he gritted his teeth, quaking with the effort to remain upright.

“Juno?” soft- imploring- damn it he loved hearing him say his name “Juno!  Hold on a moment!” scared- he was scared too-  The next thing he knew he was being set back into something blush and soft.  The way he sank into it, it had seen better days.  That was mear background dressing to the kaleidoscope of color triggered by the position change.  

A small whine escaped- he wasn’t proud of it, but whatever was happening was enough to make him sick, again.

He could hear Nureyev moving about, fabric shuffling, things scraping, synth materials clattering against hard stone and switches being flicked.  He was securing the joint. Smart.  Juno knew he should be helping.  With an injury like that, Nureyev could really damage himself.  

At least that was what he thought until he once more succumbed to dry heaves.  

“There now love-” soft kind hands massaging circles into his back and soothing words pressed into his curls.  It was strange how good Nureyev was at this, how he seemed to know exactly what Juno needed.  They stayed like that for a while after the episode passed, shivering and leaning into one another.  At long last Nureyev said “We should really do s-ssomething about those wet clothes.”

Juno gave a shaky laugh “Now’s hardly the t-time ta pull a move-”

“Very f-funny Detective”

Nureyev assisted him in shrugging out of his coat, the cold biting deeper into his bones once the layer was striped away.  

“Damn it all, f-freezing here” he complained.

“Quite.” It faintly registered that Nureyev’s fingers were icy.  This jogged a memory- blaster burns and shock.  It was important to keep warm, blaster burns had a nasty habit of leaching away your body heat in the worst way.  Nureyev ran cool at the best of times and their spontaneous dip couldn't have done him favors.  

“Y-your leg.” That large glistening patch on Nureyev’s thigh- it had to be a hell of wound.  He couldn’t see it now, Nureyev seemed to be going out of his way to keep it covered. 

“I c-can see to it in a m-moment.” he dismissed, still fussing.  A moment later he went stock still “Oh-” 

“You gotta stay warm Ran- ah!” he cried out at the sharp pain in his side. “The hell?”

In answer the thief held out a slender fletched bit of metal and glass out for inspection.

“Afraid you got h-hit love.”

It took a ridiculously long time for him to process the information.  Trying to take in the the wilted ceyon feathers and the wickedly barbed needle.

“Oh- well- that’s probably bad.” he grimaced, clamping a hand over his stomach once more.

Nureyev snorted, an incredulous, anxious thing that really ought not to be capable of conveying as much emotion as it did.

“I-I’m going to get the C-Carte Blanche on-” his teeth were chattering.  The man was shivering head to toe.  “S-see how far they are.” 

He staggered upright, limping into Juno’s blind spot to make the call. 

It took a few tries to get Buddy on the coms.  Juno lost the thread of conversation almost as soon as it began, fading in and out of the discussion until-

“A Day Away!” Nureyev exploded with impatience, his body tencing with every word.  “Captain- I b-believe Juno’s been poisoned-  I’m not r-really sure what sort of time frame we are- ouff-” a sharp intake of breath caused Juno to whip around.  Nureyev was clutching his leg, sagging against a wall.  

With numb fingers, Juno fumbled for his own coms “Nnn- Ransom’s leg- Buddy- we’re sitting ducks here.” he blurted onto the line.  They needed to get back to the ship, needed to get Nureyev treated- The man prided himself on his stealth and agility, he couldn’t lose that on the account of Juno Steel’s two left feet.  

“Juno.” Buddy’s voice was tense.

“Gotta get him ch-checked out- can’t have im hur’ on my account.”

“Juno-” a slender arm wrapped around him as Nureyev slid next to him “I’m f-fine love, just- lay down.”

“Buddy-” Juno called into the coms.  

“Guess again Steel.” crackled another, more fiery voice.

“Thank the stars, Vespa!  Juno’s been-”

“Poisoned, yeah, I heard Ransom.”  

“And the leg wound-” the room was back to spinning.  

“One thing at a damned time Steel.” she snapped before rounding on Nureyev “How the hell did you manage to get poisoned anyways?” 

“The bank was boobie t-trapped-” Nureyev sighed “only just discovered he got hit.”

There was swearing on the other end, clattering, then “Don’t suppose you know what he got hit with?”

Nureyev screwtinized the dart, but only found a few numbers stamped into the surface.  It looked like a custom job. “Nn-No- I don’t.  T-There isn’t any identifying information on t-the darts either.” 

“Are you sure about that?”

He checked again, this time looking for the tell tail striations of micro engraving.  Still.  Nothing.  “Yes, I’m s-sure.” 

“Have your glasses on?” 

“Oh not this again.”

“I’m just saying you’re eyesight is crap Ransom.”

“It is a-adequate for the task at hand, V-Vespa.” There was an irritated clip to his tone and Juno knew why.  Nureyev had put salt in his tea one time and she’d never let him live it down.  It didn’t help matters that he glossed over the mistake by finishing the cup with his typical ease, but, well- “Can we focus on Juno, Vespa?  Please-” 

Rustling from the other end and “Yeah.  Just gonna need you to check him over.  A. through E. got it?”

“What is A. through E.?” Nureyev pinched his nose, like he did whenever faced with a particularly trying problem.

“A- through E., A. through E.!  You know, check Airway, Breathing, Circulation, Disability, Exposure!  A.B.C.D.E.!  Basic first aid!” 

“Yes, ofc-course.” he set the coms down on a nearby crate, enabling the speaker phone.  “R-ready when you are.” 

“Good.  Steel, you still with us?”

Juno let out a small grone “N-not sure- Just driftin’- I guess.”

“Drifting?” he hummed in affirmation.  “Well I’m gonna need a little more than that Steel!”

“H-hurts” he added.  It was hard to focus on the line of questioning.  Now that he had a moment to sit still he felt so tired.  Everything hurt now, Mick’s words with the Proctor came back to him “Feeling a bit-poisoned-” he smiled a little.  “Ransm’ I n-never introduced you to tha’ King of the Freeway- did I?”

“Afraid not Detective.” Nureyev’s eyebrows knit together “but for now, let's focus on you.”

Juno checked out while Nureyev did the ABC whatever.  Choosing instead to focus on how nice his touch was.  Vespa was uncommonly quiet.  She cursed again when checking his pupil dilation but otherwise remained silent.  

From what he gathered, it wasn’t great news.  Juno almost screamed when Nureyev maneuvered him into a recovery position.  The knives were worrying away at his stomach again and the change in position was agony.  

“Please tell me w-we’re done-” he pressed his face into his arm.

“Till the next check up Steel.” Vespa said.  

“Do I have to-”

“Yeah, ya do Steel.  In case you forgot, it’s kind of my job to monitor your condition.” 

Juno knew she meant the poison, knew she was trying to save him but all he could think about at that moment was the martian gunk in his blood- and how he never told Nureyev what was going on.  He wasn’t trying to keep anything from him, it was just- a lot-

“Fine- but R-Ransimm’s leg needs lookin’ after-  You cn' d-do something for ‘im.”

“You t-take priority love.” said Nureyev.

“Not like I’m gonna get un-poisoned- any t-time ssoon.  Your turn.”

“Vespa-”

“It sucks, but all we can do is keep an eye on him until we get there.”

“And w-when will that be exactly?” 

“I don’t know Ransom.  Like Buddy said, we’re under attack.  These things take-”

The pair perked up at that “B-Buddy didn’t mention an attack.” 

“Oh, well-” she seemed flustered, “Just keep an eye on him Ransom!  We’ll get there when we get there.”

“Ya’ know ‘m still here- right?” Juno groaned.

“Naturally love.” 

“You’re s-stalling.” he accused, looking into Nureyev’s bright eyes. 

Nureyev gave a theatrical sight, somewhat ruined by his shivering.  

“I’m gonna need you to get rid of the fabric so I can see what’s what Ransom.” Vespa growled. 

“I’m aware- it’s j-just- I was rather fond of these pants.” he picked at the frayed edges of the hole, “Mute point, I know.” and he cut the material away with a knife.  

Even by blaster standards, this was an evil looking wound.  The weapon had plainly been set to kill.  Juno felt a different kind of sick wash over him that had nothing to do with the poison and everything to do with his partner’s injury.

“N-Ransom-” he reached out, squeezing the thief's good knee in what he hoped was a comforting gesture.  The fabric was still wet, he could feel the fine tremors running through him.  

His fault, that one was his fault- he was the reason Nureyev was hurt- that blaster shot had been meant for him after all.

Vespa swore loudly “Not gonna lie, that’s a nasty burn, still bleeding too-”

“The j-journey here was more eventful t-than anticipated.”

“No crap!  What did you expect?”

“The Ruby 7.” Nureyev arched a meticulously groomed eyebrow.

“Yeah- well-” Vespa sighed. They wouldn’t see the Ruby, yet alone the Carte Blanche, for at least another day or more. Juno closed his eye, squeezing so tight stars burst across his vision.  This was not good, not good at all.  He could almost feel the toxic substance work its way through his system.  

The last time he’d been poisoned, it was a treat from the Proctor.  Mick had been with him- god, Mick.  Would he ever see him again?  Properly introduce him to Nureyev?  Or-

There was another stab of pain and he curled around his gut- doing his best to stay quiet.  Nureyev needed to focus on himself right now- get treatment.  Rather than letting up, the pain grew ever larger, ever sharper-  cutting deep down until he stuffed his knuckles into his mouth to keep quiet.  

“uno- Juno!” a hand to his shoulder, shaking him back to awareness.  Nureyev’s face swam into view, the worry plane on his features- unmasked.  

“P-Present-” he croaked. 

“Yes-yes you are-” he leaned forwards pressing their foreheads together.  There seemed to be a heat there, though Juno couldn’t tell who it was from- That was until they broke apart and he could see the high flush on Nureyev’s cheeks- despite still shivering.  Damn.

“B-babe- don’ take this- the wrong way but- y-you don’t look too good-” Juno reached out for his face, hand waving in midair till Nureyev cuped it to his cheek.  He could feel the unnatural warmth brewing just under the surface. 

In answer, the man hummed tiredly, leaning into Juno’s touch.  “I’d- imagine not.”

“You’ve got a fever-”

Nureyev chuckled “A blaster sh-shot to the leg will do that to you- please love- g-get some rest-”

He really didn’t want to.  Every part of him was screaming that this was not the time to fall asleep.  That they’d be vulnerable.  Even more so than what they were already. 

But- he was exhausted- that bone deep ache that pulled you down at your very core.  

Nureyev was trembling under his fingers- cold- he was cold- and dealing with an injury- one he got because of Juno-

“Only if you rest for a few minutes too-” he pulled back the covers so that Nureyev could slide under.  He hadn’t even noticed he had any till that moment.  The thief hesitated for a moment or two before joining him.  Boney limbs finding all their usual spaces in Juno’s side so that they slotted together with practiced ease.  

Even then, it took a long time for Juno to fall asleep.  

It was reminiscent of their early days in Miasma’s compound, where Juno would force himself to watch Nureyev and the guards for signs of treachery-  Only now, his eyes kept kept drifting to the door.  A simple question playing on repeat in his mind.

Were they safe? 

Chapter Text

Nureyev’s stomach twisted- 

He grimaced trying to breath through it, tightening his hold on Juno.  Feeling his weight and heat against him.  The lady was a veritable furnace, but for all the proximity, Nureyev couldn't seem to get warm. 

The nausea rose again, bringing with it the knowledge he'd be sick before the night was out.  He ran a shaky hand along Juno’s spine, trying desperately to skive off the moment he’d have to stand; leave the warmth of the covers.  

“Juno you fool-” Nureyev whispered into his lady’s curls.  Even in the thralls of sleep, Juno was breathing fitfully; quick, shallow things that worried Nureyev.  His poor lady already had trouble with his lungs- not that he liked to discuss it.  For now, he’d have to keep an eye on it and hope it wouldn’t…..digress.

Another twist and Nureyev lurched to his feet.  He caught himself hard when his leg gave out- Nureyev stilled as the bile threatened to crawl up his throat.  Willing his body to cooperate; or at the very least, operate with a little more finesse-  If not for the sake of his singular audience member, then for the biting throbs of his leg.  

It was a close thing, but he made it to the washroom in time.  Emptying his stomach contents into the toilet with enough force to drive him to his knees.  

Buddy, in her wisdom, had seen fit to choose an old smuggler’s hideout as their safe house.  It was outfitted with basic amenities, a generator, and enough escape routes to be marginally comforting.  Of course, more escape routes meant more areas to watch- but he was up to the task.  Had to be.  

By the looks of the place, it hadn’t been used in some time-  Dust lay thick on every surface, settling in grimy layers on the items in the cabinets; making their footsteps stand out in stark relief on the powdered floor.  

Nureyev couldn’t decide if that was an omen.  Couldn’t decide on anything at the moment.  

When all was said and done, he was feeling rather- feeble-   His back pressed into the tiles as an aching chill crawled over his skin.  He was almost glad that Juno wasn’t awake to see him in such a state.  

And Oh- Juno-

Perhaps- if he’d been a little better , a little more diligent , then Juno wouldn’t have been hit at all-  If he’d been a little faster to the vents then they would have both been sitting vigil now, speculating about what was transpiring on the Carte Blanche.  

It was hard to shake the sensation that he was watching Juno die- again.  

Fold it away-

Scrubbing a hand over his face Nureyev returned his attention to the hideout.  The blurred world resolved itself with the return of his glasses.  This was a prime smuggling route-  The planetoid should be easily accessible, and quick to escape from.  The security seemed lax- and yet- there were cargo crates here encased in as much dust as the rest of the place.  

Nureyev stood, rinsing out his mouth and allowing himself a quick glance outside.  It was still dark and there were no discernible changes to their surroundings.  

That was something at least. 

Sure the crates could have been left here for safekeeping until the smugglers returned or a new pick up was arranged but- they looked as though they had been here for years-  It was unnerving.  Nureyev stooped, examining the surface for markings that may hint as to way was inside, but the surface was unmarked by logos or code.  

Juno was still sleeping.  If sleep was indeed what he was doing with all that twitching, it was hard to say.  Nureyev hobbled back to him and readjusted the blankets, allowing his cold fingers to slip down to the pulse point at his neck.  It took a frightful while before he could register the desperate beat.  

He let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding.  Vespa had cautioned him to check more than his neck and wrist; to make sure there was adequate blood flow to his extremities.  He had done so on a few occasions.  It was threatening to become a nervous tick.

Sitting back Nureyev absently rubbed at the fresh injury- it was in that new wound phase of being oversensitive to even the whisper of a touch.  He’d already gone through his pockets in hope of finding something, anything- to help-  analogue lock picks, a honing stone, soup crackers still in their packaging, something that had been paper once, his automatic stitcher, a gossamer swatch of fabric, a sock- but little that could be used to make his partner more comfortable .  He gave up shortly after extracting the Carte Blanches’ TV remote, faintly registering Rita had been looking for that.

The ‘Juno Proof Black Box’ seemed fine- despite it’s impromptu dip in the polluted waters.  He gave it a few experimental prods, the screen responding with the same fervor as it had in the bank.  He shouldn’t be surprised given Juno’s propensity for spilling fluids, but it was reassuring to see it in action.  

He bit his lip, once more scanning their surroundings for possible threats.  Out here like this, he felt...exposed.  

Juno had been right to say that they were sitting ducks.  Normally, he’d be tucked away in a crawl space, waiting for his opportunity to get onboard a transport.  It was a risky venture for one, but almost impossible for two weighed down by ailments.  

There was nothing for it, they would have to stay put until their crew arrived.  

Trapped-

Nureyev shook himself, filing that thought away too.  

A distraction, that’s what he needed. 

Most of his fidgets had been ruined by the water.  Which was just as well, he’d been meaning to pick up a few more trinkets.  The crates would act as a nice substitute.  Mystery boxes that they were.  

He crossed to the nearest one, about to open it up when he heard it-  A small whining coming from the street- 

His stomach dropped, the sound was unmistakable.

A drone-

A drone?  But how?  They’d been careful hadn’t they?  They’d been safe?

But that wasn’t strictly true.  They hadn’t been careful or safe- Not in their respective conditions .

He eased his way to a window, peering through to the quiet street beyond.  And yes, there was the drone hovering just out of reach of the door.  Oh dear- it appeared to be running some sort of scan- this would have to be dealt with; and quickly.

Nureyev weighed the pros and cons of going topside to take out the drone- versus going out the back way to sneak up behind- but with his leg- could he really maintain the element of surprise?

Probably not.

He chewed on his lower lip - what to do - past experience suggested that destroying a drone would only invite disaster.  Such a brash course of action would undoubtedly draw attention they could not afford.  He had to force it away.

Nureyev gave Juno a peck on the cheek, and left a brief message informing the detective he’d return shortly. 

An earlier study of the safe house suggested there were access points in the roof.  A lofty vantage point may provide him with the leg up he needed, so to speak.  

With one last look at his lady, Nureyev hoisted himself into the ceiling tiles.  It was anything but graceful, his arms quaked with the effort to lift his body weight.  Without his usual controlled motions, he hit his injury.  A sickening ache shooting through his body, nearly paralyzing him.

He bit back a whimper, curling in on himself.  

You don’t have time for this- he reminded himself.  Even now, the drone could find them, reveal their location.  Bring reinforcements.  

Taking great care he pulled himself through the crawl space.  It was as dusty as the rest of the place, but he'd been in worse crawl spaces.  The roof was behind another panel.  He pressed his body to it, deadening the noise of it swinging open.  The stale air of the city hit his face, washing the taste of dust out of his mouth as it sent shivers down his spine.  

He was nearly there , just a bit farther- Just a little closer-   His leg screamed against the low stealth crouch, he forced himself onward, doing his best to ignore the pain.  He trailed his fingers against the steep pitch of the roof for balance.  Fold it away , he urged himself, fold it away, fold it-  

His stomach flipped as he lost his footing on the smooth tile, nearly launching himself off the edge.  Instinctively he flattened himself, scrambling to gain purchase wherever he could manage.  The few inches he’s skidded may as well have been miles for the pounding of his heart.  Once still, Nureyev laid his hot forehead against the cool tiles.

Rule number one of thieving, he chastised himself, don’t make unnecessary mistakes.   

Heart in throat, he belly crawled until the drone below came into sight.  His vision swam.  At first he thought he’d forgotten his glasses but a quick check revealed them to be firmly on his nose where they belonged.  There was a cold sweat on his brow however- that may be the culprit.

A camera fastened in a fixed position atop the drone, four propellers holding it a loft.  That, he could work with.  The propellers were fortunate, easier to disarm than the hover models.  A plan was formulating in his head- if he could cripple one of it’s propellers, he may be able to force it to return to its base for maintenance.

Gingerly rolling onto his side, Nureyev extracted the gossamer cloth from a pocket, tearing a long strip from it.  He lowered himself from the eaves, dangling the cloth out before him like a fishing line.  Waving it back and forth, back and forth, extending the fabric out as far as his long fingers would allow until-  There!  It caught on!  He watched in satisfaction as the propellers greedily wound the material tight about it until it seized.

What he didn’t account for was the noise.  

A horrid shrill thing that escalated his headache in record time.  Cutting through him till he thought he’d be sick.  It was all he could do to push away from the edge onto the relative safety of the roof.

The drone had another parting gift, flashing lights to accompany its siren’s wale.  There was too much light, too much sound-   Nureyev was torn between shielding his eyes or protecting his ears as the drone made its drunken retreat.

He lay there a time after the thing’s departure.  Waiting a few beats before dropping back into the smuggling den.  Quite literally, as it were-   He missed gauged his landing and ended up in a tangled heap on the floor.  He cried out as his injury was compressed. 

Another idiotic mistake that he couldn't afford to make-

Nureyev rolled over slowly- expecting to find Juno’s sharp eye trained on him, a question on his lips.  

There was nothing-  

The clumsy affair didn’t seem to disturb Juno at all and he was such a light sleeper-  Concern cut through the fog of his mind.  Juno’s face was twisted- he looked so- small; curled as he was under the blanket.  He pulled himself over, noticing the stuttering of his chest.  Oh love-  Aching fingers found their way to the lady’s neck-

He called Vespa. 

“This better be good Ransom-” her growl was mussed by fatigue.  

“Apologies- Y-you said to call if there’d been any-” he paused, the correct Solar term eluding him “um- alterations, to Juno’s c-condition.”

“I’m listening-”

“His b-breathing picked up, it’s erratic- and his-s pule is so f-fast.” 

“Is he awake?”

“No-”

“Hugh-” she sounded like she was thinking.  “How’s his temperature?”

Nureyev paused, his temperature- how could he forget to check?  Juno might as well have been a white hot brand against the ice of his hand- setting off the ache in his limbs- this was no good.  

It conjured a scene from one of Rita’s action streams, a ship quarantined on an asteroid belt.  Nureyev had paid it little mind at the time, save to take in the little gestures of care in the main couple.

The little thing's he'd like to try with Juno, if he got the chance-

He pressed his forehead to Juno’s, nearly losing his equilibrium in the process.  He- couldn't’ tell- Perhaps Juno was warm- then again, that could easily be himself- or- more likely both of them.

Nureyev was... compromised-

“What a p-pair we are- Love.” he said softly into his lady’s curls.   

“Ransom!” came the impatient bark. 

“I don’t know- I lack a thermal monitor- and-”

“Thermometer?”

“Yes- t-that’s what I s-said.  Point is- I c-can’t tell.”

“You can’t tell?  Damnit Ransom!” a burst of static air “You’re still chilled aren't you?” 

“I f-fail to see the relevance.”

“It’s relevant thief,” she spat with the air of one explaining something painfully obvious to a particularly obtuse child, “because you’re the one responsible for monitoring Steel.  And a lot of good you’ll do him if you pass out before we get there!”

Did she think he didn’t already know that?  That he wasn’t acutely aware of how vulnerable they were?  

“That is n-not going to-”

“And it’s relevant because I’m your doctor too.  So just answer the damned question!”

His cheeks burned as if he were admitting to some personal failing on his part.  “I c-can’t seem to get warm.”

“Figured.  Listen, we’re still a ways off, if you don’t get warm or something that’s gonna be a big problem.  Just, cover up if you can.  It will make a difference, even if it doesn’t feel like it.” 

“Understood.”

“I’m going to go out on a limb and assume he’s got a fever.  You got water there right?”

“Yes.”

“Use a cold compress to keep it down.  It’s not perfect, but it will have to do.”

“And- if it does not?”

“We’ll navigate that asteroid field if we get to it.  Remember to take fluids, both of you.”

"Of course."

Earlier investigations of the smugglers' den revealed a cabinet filled with mismatched dishware. It was from there that he fished out a grimy bowl and a few cups.  At least this would do nicely.

It was only as he washed out the bowl that he realized he should have mentioned the drones. After all, where there was one there were likely to be more.  A matter for the next check in he supposed.  

Juno stirred when Nureyev laid the cool compress over his brow.  The amber brown of his eye sliding open.  

“It’s b-been a while- Juno-” Nureyev admonished, the relief loosening the knots in his chest.  In truth, he’d been out for little more than two hours, but it felt much longer than that somehow.  

“Already with- the on’ liners-” 

“Of course dear Detective.” He leaned appreciatively into his goddess.  “I’ve had ample time to p-perfect them while Sleeping Beauty slept-”

“Oh ha-” he grimaced, shifting a little “you soun' cold-”

Leave it to Juno to get poisoned and still make time to worry about Nureyev.  

“I-It’s fine love-”

“No it’s not-” weak as his tone was, he still managed to sound petulant.  All Nureyev could do was humm and refresh the compress, taking a moment to run his fingers through the curls.  Juno’s eye fluttered shut as he shuddered “It’s bad- blaster burn-” Nureyev’s heart could break with how slurred and exhausted Juno’s words were.  Like it took effort for him to give them voice. 

“F-for now- it is alright.”

There was a whir and a clatter from the outside.  Nureyev jumped, dread seeping into his chest.  He knew without checking that the drones were back.  

“‘reyev?” Juno inquired. 

“N-not to alarm you Juno, b-but I fear we have-” again he grasped for the term “unwanted stayovers.”

“stayo-”

“Company-” Nureyev corrected, getting laboriously to his feet.  “Somehow, they know w-where to find us-”

“Our location?” Juno sounded so weak- he was painfully aware that all that stood between Juno and their pursuers was himself.  Not the most reassuring line of defense at present.

He pressed the black box into Juno’s hand “Keep yourself hidden love.” and flung the canvas over the top of him before he could protest.  It was a mediocre disguise, but hopefully better than nothing at all.  “I’ll return momentarily.”

He hoped for once, that the Detective would take him at his word and would leave this to him.  

Nureyev peered out a window, counting five, maybe six drones.  There was no way he could face them all at once.  What was more, the trick he used last time would not due here.  

“Nu-reyev-” Juno was struggling to disentangle himself from the canvas.  The thief sent up a silent wish for strength. 

“Love, please- trust me.  I will be back.”  He applied pressure to where he thought Juno’s shoulder may be and the man stilled.  “I’ll always come back to you.”

“Promise?”

“Of Course.  Please love, be still.”  

Just like that, he slipped out the back door, nearly colliding with a previously unseen drone sussing out the perimeter.  Instinctively he jerked the plasma blade up, cleaving the machine in two and grazing a few knuckles in the process.  A shrill chirping emanated from the damaged thing, mirroring the earlier sound of the homebound drone.   Nureyev stooped and cut again, this time more surgically, severing the speaker's connection.  

He knew destroying the thing would only result in more trouble, but that would be for future consideration.  

More drones rounded the corner.  Taking a small moment, Nureyev steeled himself against the burning of his leg, before launching himself forwards into the fray.

A second wave of adrenaline carried him through the first moments of grinding metal and flashes of light.  Luckily, these drones appeared to be more civilian in nature.  Modified to be sure, a few started to produce clumsy blasters from their bodies, but civilian.  Not surprising since most outer rim governments annexed military grade equipment.  Even the wealthiest of companies had yet to recoup the loss. 

He took careful aim at those damned speakers, having no desire to experience a sensory overload in the thralls of a fight.  Hoping against hope that he didn’t damage their Universal Positioning Device.  

His lungs burned and his arms became leaden under the weight of motion, but still he went on.  Forcing himself to dance on one good leg.  Lean left, faint right, upper cut here and- he stumbled, just catching himself on an adjacent wall and rolling out of the way of a drone stunner.  Carving a molten streak down the center of another machine before it too could line up a shot.  

Another drone fell to friendly fire.    

That made five, maybe six by now?  There were more than he'd thought.  

His cheek got clipped by propeller blades, he jerked back in surprise losing his balance- his leg caved, colliding hard with some rubbish bins.  He couldn’t help the piteous cry that was torn from his lips, or the way the world spun around.  He tried to pull himself out, keep moving but slipped and fell back again.  

The remainder of the drones closed in, small blasters sliding out of their metal bodies with mechanical whirs.  He raised his knife, trying to take aim against the whir of color. 

He could hear the laser’s warming up, and knew, this time, there wouldn't be time to disappear. 

Chapter Text

Somewhere in the distance and fog of his mind he registered a door swinging open.  There was a loud clatter and shredding of metal that set his teeth on edge, scattering what little assemblance of thought he’d managed to collect.  

Something- something wasn’t right.

Shrill beeping cut deep into his skull-  Juno pressed a hand to his temple, opening his eye to stare up at the canvas.  

Nureyev was out there- fighting.

Nureyev was out there fighting while Juno was cowering under a blanket like some god damned child-   But no, ‘worse than a child’ , even as a kid he’d probably be out there right now, fists swinging to protect those important to him. 

Damn, even dead Ramses O’Flaherty could still talk his ear off.  

Stop it Steel. He shifted, groaning as stab of pain shot through his stomach- 

He- oh- he didn’t feel good-

There were more sounds from outside, sparking metal and weighty clangs- accompanied by the the telltale humm of a blaster charging- Nureyev didn’t fight with a blaster, which meant-  

No-

Juno forced himself into a sitting position, a sodden cloth sliding off his forehead.  The world washed out in vertigo, the nausea once again clawing at his insides. Damn it-

He groaned, clutching at the couch arm for dear life. 

It felt like an eternity for him to get his bearings-  He needed to get to Nureyev, he needed to help .  That little black box wouldn't mean a damned thing if something happened to his knight in stolen armor.  

You’d just get in his way- a nasty part of himself hissed.  You’re no good to anyone like you are now-   

And god was he aware of that, couldn’t so much as sit up without feeling sick- he gritted his teeth cursing himself for getting hit in the first place.  

Hell, hadn’t Nureyev proven time and time again how he didn’t need Juno?  How could he fend for himself?  He’d practically carried Juno the last leg to their pick up point, probably making his injury worse.  .

The battle wages on in Juno's mind, to go or not to go- To go or not to go, To go-  God, he's had hangovers that treat him more like a lady than this. 

Or not to go-  He hunched over, hugging himself tight-

To go - even the THEIA Soul hadn't done him this dirty- 

Or not to go- admittedly he'd been heavily sedated in a hospital ward at the time and couldn't remember much of the whole thing-

Or not to go-

Or not to go-

Juno was just about to let his aching body sink back into the cushions when he heard something that flooded him with fear.  

Nureyev screamed-

The last time he’d heard the man scream was in Miasma’s compound.  It was something that his nameless thief just didn’t do.

He was hurt-

He needed help-

Juno lurched to his feet, barely able to disentangle himself from the canvas and take up his blaster.  

He heard Nureyev again, this time softer than before.  It only served to spur Juno on.

Juno flung the door open.  Propping himself up on the frame, he surveyed the scene.  A handful of drones were closing in on where Nureyev was tangled in a series of bins.  He was struggling to get upright and not getting very far-

Juno took aim and fired. 

It was hard to aim true with his shaking arms.  The shots never seemed to line up quite right and for a heart stopping moment, he thought he hit Nureyev.  Terror bit deep into his chest as Juno watched the man fold in on himself, getting impossibly small.  

Oh, no, no, no, please no- 

The next thing he knew, the thief leaped up with a flourish.  A flash of silver arced through the air, knocking something to the ground next to Juno’s feet.  

A drone. 

He- hadn’t noticed it- which seemed impossible, it was so close-  He hadn't noticed it until Nureyev acted-

“Nice- shot-”.  He gasped, feeling his face twisting into a grimace.  The knife sensation reared its ugly head; cutting edges worrying away at his core.  It was too much, too much !  God .  It drowned out all thought leaving only pain.   

He let out a low whine and sagged against the door frame, feeling sicker than ever.  Dimly aware of that musical baritone talking to him, saying his name and cool hands cupping his face-

He could scarcely make out the words over the rush of blood in his ears.  But he wanted to, He’d do anything for that wonderful voice.  

“uno- Juno-” Nureyev was saying “love, do you think you c-can stand for me?” 

All Juno could do was let out an unhelpful groan.  Long thin arms wound their way about him, attempting to pull him upright.  But it hurt - it hurt so much.   He folded over the pain, dropping even lower.

“I need you- to work w-with me- Detective-” Nureyev said through gritted teeth.  That’s when he remembered the blaster shot.  

Hell

He needed to help out- he needed to stand-   He rearranged his leaden legs to gain leverage from the ground, pushing up underneath him and- 

Something tore within.  Like so many wet chords snapping- breaking apart.  Juno cried out in agony.

“I know love- I know- but I need you to keep up the stride-” 

Nureyev didn’t know- couldn’t .  How would you know what it would be like?  To come undone from the inside out-  To have every step unravel you piece by piece.

How could you know something like that?  

He wished to be belligerent, to argue back or something , but instead he just keened into Nureyev’s side, his body on fire.  

“Just- a bit- more-” Juno’s stomach lurched as he was deposited back onto the cushions.  Nureyev muttered something soothing in a language he couldn’t quite focus on, before messily transitioning back to Solar.  “I’ll be back Love, I’ve s-strings to tie up.”  

Strings to tie up-  that seemed pleasant.  Juno felt like his strings had been cut.  He curled in on himself trying to bite back another pathetic sound.  Trying to hold himself together even as his heart threatened to hammer him apart.  Trying to breathe.

Just.

Breathe.

By the time Nureyev returned, Juno was feeling- not better- but certainly more stable.  The thief, however, was limping worse than ever.  His hair worked free of the careful styling, his complexion pallid and flushed under what remained of his foundation.  He was shaking too.  At least, Juno thought he was shaking, it was hard to tell through the mental fog.  

“ ‘Reyev- ” he croaked.  

Nureyev’s expression softened, “Juno- How are you feeling?” 

“Like I ate nails fer’ breakfast- you?” 

“Nails f-for breakfast?  What an unusual culinary choice.” 

Juno huffed in amusement immediately tensing around another throb of pain.  They seemed to be getting more frequent.  “Don’ make me laugh- naugh’ fair-” 

“Apologies Detective.” Juno didn’t miss the way Nureyev peered out the window- Worried about being followed- the thought surfaced hazily.  

“Is- are they tracking us?” Juno inquired.

“I’m not sure how they’d be track-” he trailed off, those bright eyes flashing in a shock of recognition.  “Of course- Juno- that’s it!”  Nureyev pressed an excited kiss into his knuckles before hobbling off to retrieve his coat, where it had been left to dry.

“Babe?” Juno asked, not following the frenzied search through all the rubbish packed in those bottomless pockets of his.  

Nureyev made a triumphant noise, extracting a small bundle of cyan fletched darts, their noses buried in a cork.  Juno wanted to ask, but found himself instead enjoying the flush of triumph on Nureyev’s face.  It was an expression that was all Peter Nureyev without a hint of a mask, a smile pulled wide over those pointed teeth, eyes sparkling behind his glasses, hair tussled with strands framing his face.  

“Do I wanna know?” 

“If I told you they caught my eye- w-would you hold it against me?” 

“You telling me you took ‘em because- they were shiny?” Juno chuckled, regretting the act instantly as the pain flared.  

“I s-suppose that’s one interpretation-” he affirmed, freeing a dart and analyzing it.  Looking for ways to disassemble the thing.  The miniscule vial within was still full, which was something. 

Nureyev scrutinized the dart, turning it this way and that before gleaning an understanding of the shell’s mechanics.  Sure enough, a simple twist was all it took to remove the fletching, revealing a small honing chip. 

He let out a short, disappointed hum.  

“I regret to inform you that your hunch was- correct.” He held the chip up for the Detective’s inspection.  

“Ya-you jus’ don’ like surprises-” 

“Don’t be absurd, surprises k-keep life interesting.  However-” he glared at the offending chip over his glasses “T-today has already been more interesting than what w-would be comfortable .”  

Juno rewarded him with a snort, his gentle hand came to rest on Nureyev’s back.  

The touch was light, but sent an achy chill through him even as he chased the pressure.  If he was being honest with himself, he wasn’t feeling well at all- and it was more than the pain in his leg. Juno’s fingers drifted up to his shoulder, his thumb tracing clumsy circles into the damp material of his shirt.  

A trickle of sweat trailed down his brow accentuating the pounding in his temples.  A few minutes rest- then he could deal with the microchips- somehow.  

Perhaps he had said something out loud because Juno rasped “Rita-” Nureyev frowned, wondering why Juno would be bringing up his ex-secretary now.  “She’ll know wha ta do-”

It snapped into place so fast it made his head spin.  If he wasn’t so tired, he’d have kissed Juno on the spot.  Still might.

Of course!  Rita would surely be able to help them deal with the chips!  Of course!

He settled in and made the call.

“Hiiiiii~ This is Rita’s Work Space Spectacular!” came her usual upbeat tone.  Nureyev put her on speaker between the two of them, nothing subtle way Juno perked up.

“Rita- how god it is to hear from you-”

“Ohh!  Mista Ransom!  I thought you was gonna be the Captain!  Checking in on the- well- never mind.  But I heard you was held up somewhere safe till old Rita here can get back to you all but I’m so sorry Mista Ransom!  I don’t know when the Carte Blanche will be able to circle back!  I am trying my best, I really am but this is just like Delton: Age of Destruction!  Where the bad guys weave a real dense net of radioactive algae to capture-”

“Rita-” Juno cut in.

“Princes Valkyrie of-”

“Rita!” he was louder now, raising himself up on an elbow with a pained hiss.  “Rita- please- there's a- chip-”

“Not a Soul -” she gasped, sounding utterly terrified “Mista Steel!  That took a hundred and ten percent of my energy last time, and a whole building collapsin’ on you!  With everythin’ that’s going on right now I don’t know if I can-”

“N-not that Rita- we’re- ugh- ” Juno’s chest stuttered as another spasm passed through “We’re- alrigh-”   

“Really Mista Steel?  You don’t sound alright.”  Rita’s concern mirrored Nureyev’s own.  He almost envied her the luxury in indulging it instead of shoving it to a dark corner of his mind in favor of the more immediate threat.  The only one he was qualified to handle.  

“We have k-kept Vespa in the loop, she is aware of our situation.  Juno is referring to t-the-” he trailed off pinching the bridge of his nose trying to think past the fog “the- locating- er- tracking chip.  Half dozen of the things really- we require your assistance in d-dealing with them.”

“Oh!  Tracking chips?  Why didn’t you say something soona Mista Ransom!  I can do that for you no problem! One Sec!”

Nureyev hummed appreciatively, smoothing back his slackening hair and plucking off residual crawlspace cobwebs.  

“Just put the coms in front of the chips and let me see what’s what.”

“You c-can do that?”  Not for the first time, Nureyev was left in awe by the resident hacker of the Carte Blanche.

“Little trick I picked up with Mista Steel!” he could practically see the large warm smile lighting her face from here.  “Just gotta hack into the Universal Positioning System and tap into the uplink relay and-”

He left her to it, listening to her chirp away about anything and everything that came into her mind.  He’d long held a suspicion that this display was an advanced system of a free association memory palace- rather like those remarkable drawing notes of hers.  Something that seemed to be unique to Rita.

Nureyev leaned back and focused on breathing, threading his fingers with Juno’s and taking the opportunity to search the lady’s wrist for his pulse point.  The Detective gave a violent full body shiver before he could locate the beat. 

“Nur-” he puffed “cold-”

“Apologies.”

Juno hummed, pulling Nureyev’s arm closer to the heat of him.  He was being drawn in, like a moth to a flame.  A beautiful goddess by the name of Juno Steel.  It was nice there, he could feel his heart through his shirt, where his arm rested against his chest.  He drew nearer still, lulled by the rhythmic clacks of Rita’s fingers as they danced their way across the keys.  

“Ah Ha!  And there you have it!  Those nasty drone demons can’t be following you any more, Mista Ransom!”

“Wait-that’s- that’s it?” Nureyev could scarce believe it.

“Yep!  You’re all set!  Rita took care of it for ya!  Actually a lot easier than I thought it would be, which is good cuz it’s really buzzy at the moment!”

Nureyev gave her profuse thanks, a weight lifting from his chest.

“What was that Mista Ransom?  Couldn’t quite understand ya there-” 

“Oh- Just- t-thank you...Rita.” 

“Sure thing Mista Ransom!  If there’s anythin, and I mean anythin else that little ol’ Rita can help you with, don’t be afraid to give me a hollar! And, well, Just take care of yourself and Mista Steel okay?  I know that ain't somethin I gotta ask with you but, you’re far away and I’m just worried sick about you two!  Okay?  And just in case, you should keep an eye on those little devices, just cuz I-” she cut off.  Someone in the background seemed to be talking to her.  “Oh, right away Captain A!  Sorry Mista Ransom, I gotta go!”

“Understood, and thank you again-” but she was already gone.

Conversations with Rita usually left him mentally reeling and oddly touched in a way he couldn’t truly begin to unpack.  This conversation was no different, adding to the mounting folder that was Rita in his mind.

He thought about filing this discussion away in future consideration too, but- that didn’t fit- perhaps it would be saved for an upcoming poetry session when they were once again safe aboard the Carte Blanche.

Yes- that would have to due.

And again- more evidence that something was happening on the ship-

He bit his lip, thinking- and trying his best to blot out worst case scenarios.  

A hand searing with fevered heat, brushed the nape of his neck.  “Babe- come under tha covers- ge-warm.” 

Nureyev hummed, it sounded so inviting, and he was so cold.  

“Perhaps-for a moment Love-” 

Chapter Text

“God Damnit Thief!  Pick up your damned coms when the bloody doctor calls!"

"Again, apologies Vespa, I-" he coughed weakly into his hand, tripoding over his knees. 

"Do you know how many times I had to call you?  Do you?"  

Nureyev sighed "Afraid not-"

"Seven !  Seven goddamn times!  Thought you were dead !  Or Steel!  Or captured or whatever!  We're in enough crap as it is without you two adding to the pile!"

“Vespa, I-”

“If you say you’re sorry one more time, Thief; I swear to god I’ll snap your scrawny neck!"

"I'm-" he caught himself mid apology, "Understood-"

"I haven't heard Steel's voice, where is he?"

"Juno's- sleeping." Which is what he himself had been doing up to the moment Vespa rang. Stupid- a rookie mistake-

"Oh?  And how sure are you of that thief?"

Nureyev wiped the sweat off of his face, "I'm sure-" it had been the first thing he checked when the beeping of the comms woke him.  Even from here he could see the frantic rise and fall of Juno's chest.  The lady wasn't doing well.  

"Completely."  He coughed harder into an elbow.

Vespa sniff on the other end of the line.  Plainly suspicious, but that was nothing new. 

"Fine, now you're on, we can get back to business…."  There was a clatter outside, his head snapped towards it ".... temperature down, or it can cause…." and another- "gotta make sure he's in the recovery…" and another and confound it all Nureyev, focus!  He shook himself back to the conversation just in time for Vespa to say "Did you get that Thief?"

"Hmm?  I ugh-" he floundered.  No, no he had not gotten it, and was just about to say so when he heard voices-

Lord, not now, please not now-

"Thief?" 

Nureyev limped to a window.  Even in the dim light of the street lamps, he could make out the security uniforms of Galactic Stars First Bank.  

No-

Anxiety spiked his chest, making him queasy- or perhaps he already was-

Juno was in danger.  That much, he was certain of.  To say nothing about himself.

He glanced over his shoulder at the sleeping lady.  Even with his features pinched and weary, he was beautiful-  

And vulnerable-

Plans began to formulate in his mind.  His first impulse was to find some crevice to hide in, to disappear.  But even with Juno’s help, he only just managed to get him to the sofa last time-  If they were found- well, he didn’t want to find out what they’d do to him.  

“Thief?!” 

He could lure the guards inside, dispatch them quickly and save his leg the trouble-  But no, that would be too messy.  To say nothing of Juno’s sensibilities, inviting guards into their hiding spot introduced more blind variables than he’d care to gamble with.

Which left luring them away- Sharp teeth worried away at his bottom lip.  The injury would make things- challenging.  But he didn’t have to be fast.  After all, it was a fool who thought the best getaway vehicle was the fastest-  

What he needed now was a strategy; and to know how many employees he’d have to contend with.  

“God Damnit Ransom, the hell-”

“Apologies Vespa, I need Rita.” 

“What?!” 

“Ha-How many guards, am I dealing with- Rita?” Nureyev grimaced, pressing his back tight to the apartment's tinker toy brickwork.  Rita’s voice was going fuzzy around the edges, as though muffled.

It had been harder than anticipated to pick his way past the patrolling guards, yet alone work his way out of the safe house. 

“Two, maybe four in your sector Mista Ransom.” 

“Which is it? ”

“Hugh?”

“Which is it ?  The- er- two, or the four?” there was a throb of pain that made his breath hitch.  Along with that ever present burning, biting its way deep.  

“Not sure but- are- are you alright Mista Ransom?” 

“I- am a tad worse for wear.  Which is why I’d like to resolve this matter quickly.”

“Ohhh, ohh right!  Well Rita can help with that!” 

“Thank you Rita.  Now- which way to the two or four individuals?” 

He allowed Rita to guide him through the quiet streets.  She informed him that a dome wide lockdown had been initiated while the intruders were at large.  Sure enough, when he tried a few doors in passing, they refused to yield under his touch.  The citizens took the lockdown seriously.  

Nureyev made sure to make plenty of noise. He needed a show if he wanted this plan to work.  What worried him was that he was only half acting as he stumbled his way over the cobbles on a stiff leg.  He allowed himself to knock into bins and topple items into cars.  The noise he raised wasn’t loud, per say, but it was conspicuous on the quiet streets.  

“Where are these guards Rita?” 

“They’ll be coming up any minute Mista Ransom, you just keep your eyes Peeled!  Make a right up here-” she directed “Peeled, hugh, ever consider what a weird thing it is to say.  That you should keep your eyes peeled?   I mean you do that and your eyes ain't gonna be good no more, least of all you.  Oh!  But there was this one stream where the monster worked its way out of a beautiful man!  Which was such a waist but what do I know about streams?  And its eyes were doing this crazy-”

“Any- minute?” he was starting to have doubts about using his own injured self as bait. He filed that deep in his mind.

“What?  Oh!  Yeah!  You got some baddies commin’ up right behind you.”

“Behind- Are you sure?” he panted.  

“Yeah of course I’m sure Mista Ransom!” 

A quick turn confirmed Rita’s intel.  He was indeed being followed.  

They shouted something at his back, and Nureyev picked up his pace to a skip-hop, while his pursuers broke into a run.   A plasma bolt shot past his ear, sending a jolt of adrenaline through.  In answer he flipped over several barrels.  They cascaded into the small space, messing the ally nicely.  That should slow them down some.  It had to. 

There was no time to pay attention to the ache of his lungs or the fire coursing through his leg.  Even as each step pushed him that much closer to being physically ill.  

File it away, Damn you- just file it away-

He screwed his eyes shut and pushed forward.  Forcing himself to keep moving, to keep breathing, to keep-

He plowed headlong into an old chain link fence with enough force to knock him to the ground with a strangled cry.  The traitorous links rattled and clinked all the way up to their restraints.  As if to add insult to injury, they stretched maybe ten, fifteen feet in the air.  There wasn’t a hope of making it over before his acquaintances caught up.  

“Mista Ransom?!” Rita sounded scared, she’d even stopped typing.  “What happened?”

“There’s-” he coughed “There’s a- barrier- ” There was another word, a better word, but he couldn’t for the life of him think of it.  It was taking all his effort to push upright on shaking arms, threading his fingers into the wire mesh to haul himself to his feet.  

“A barrier?  Like a wall or a buildin’ or somethin?  None of that is showing up on my schema-” 

“A fence- Is there another way round?”  He took a moment to catch his breath.

“I’m sorry but, there isn’t anythin’ on the map.  Ya gotta get to the other side before ya have options.  Can’t you like, break through or somethin?” 

Break through, of course , Nureyev could kick himself; it was so simple.  He extracted one of his plasma cutters from a pocket, heat humming through the blade.  In the end, it wasn’t even a good fence.  The blade made quick work of the links, slicing through them as one might margarine.  

Another blaster shot forced him through the cherry red ruin of a hole before it had a chance to cool.  He brought his arm up, shielding his face even as the sharp edges racked along his coat, hitting his leg- he hissed, nausea threatening to overtake him.  

“Mista Ransom?” 

He scrambled to the other side, barely keeping upright.  

“Mista Ransom!  You’ve got more company comin’ straight at you!” 

“What-” his voice cracked in exhaustion.  Through the gloom, he could just make out the second pair barreling down the narrow passage.  He could hear them barking orders at him now, probably instructing him to surrender or other such nonsense that he had no intention of following.  

“They’ve brought reinforcements!  They’re gonna’ block your escape roots!” 

“Reinforcements?” 

“There’s at least four more heading straight at you!” 

Nureyev glanced back and spotted the first pair shoving through the debris.  Then that would make six-  Six on one, he didn’t like those odds.  A wrong step sent a jolt through him, his weakened leg nearly buckling under his weight sending him into a wall.  Again the world went fuzzy, blood rushing to his ears.

He wondered if the Carte Blanche really would come back for him if he’d got captured.  Something made him doubt it even as he shoved the ugly thought deep into a file.  

Think Nureyev.

Time, he needed time.  A had drifted to the modest arsenal on his chest.  There were a few smoke bombs he hadn’t touched, but the situation called for something more dire- 

He plucked a pepper grenade from the clip, lobbing it over the fence with the practiced ease of one who’d spent hours on throwing knives.  Smoke tracked it’s flight through the air.  It struck the ground at the guard’s feet.  They yelled, scrambling back just as it erupted.  The choking fumes swallowed them in seconds.  

Nureyev was no longer paying mind to them, attention bent entirely at the remaining guards.  Four on one were more....managable.  

He rushed the closest set, drawing a twin to his first blade wheeling them in tandem.  The man was no fighter, as soon as he got into their space, the man shrank back, his blaster forgotten.  

A tingling burn flushed across exposed skin making his heart plummet.  He’d made a mistake.  Nureyev hadn't accounted for the wind-

Spurred by the change in fortune, Nureyev dispatched the man quickly; maneuvering out of the way as he crumpled.  Life’s blood spilled over the cobbles soon obscured by smoke.

Smoke?  

Twisting and contorting, the smoke seemed to grow till it engulfed everything in its path.  Pouring down the cramped space.  The remaining guards tried to run, but were soon overtaken, same as the Thief. 

Nureyev's throat closed against the onslaught.  He gagged and coughed over the very air, vision hopelessly obscured by tears.  The only good news was that he could hear his attackers do the same.  Panic began to fog his reason.  

He no longer noticed the burning of his skin or eyes, or the way his nose was running; no longer could feel the pain in his leg.  He couldn’t breathe, he couldn't breathe .  The single thought spun round and round in his brain, desperately trying to figure a way around it.  He clung to the wall with every ounce of strength he possessed.  The coughing picked up even harder now till his chest crushed in like a deflated balloon. 

Try as he will, his lungs would not expand.  There was simply no more air.

“Mista Ransom?” Rita, in the coms!  Rita who was still very much with him.  There was hope!  

Just then a hand clenched around a fistful of his hair, dragging Nureyev lower still.  He’d been found, even in a place like this, they’d still found him.  The employees of Galactic Stars First Bank were more like his creditors than Nureyev liked.  Even now she was growling at him in anger.  

Though he couldn’t understand the language, he knew she was asking questions.  Her breaths were short and forced yet still she managed to talk.  Had he not been in the grips of fear, he would have found her admirable.  

“Mista Ransom?!”

Through his bleary eyes, he could make out the cyan glow of a blaster pointed down under his nose.  She meant to shoot him, but was hesitating.  At any other time, he'd wonder why-  Instead he reached up to claw, to cling at her wrist, still with a grip on his knives.  She twisted and he bowed lower, leg quaking, his hand slipped and-

“Ah!” she squealed as his plasma blade bit into her arm, flinging  him back to a wall.  The impact miraculously forced air back into his lungs.  Though as soon as he got it, his body started to cough it back up.  Furiously he clapped a hand over his mouth, trying to hold it in.

It didn't work.

“Mista Ransom!” If Rita had sounded scared before, that was nothing compared to now.  Her voice was small and tentative in a way that would break any heart.  Even so, he latched onto her voice with everything he was worth.  

The light of the guard's weapon danced before him.  She may have been hurt, but she wasn’t down yet.  What’s worse was that she seemed to be calling for backup.  

The blade sang out of his fingers, digging itself into her thigh. This time she screamed and hacked, scrambling for the off switch while Nureyev made his escape.  It hadn't been where he'd been aiming, but close enough.  With any luck, she'd have trouble moving for a time.  

“R-ita-” he choked out, managing tiny gasps, every one a massive effort.

“What’s going on!  Have you been Gassed!!!!!” thank stars he would not have to explain.

“Y-yes-” he gave into a violent coughing fit.

“Oh-Okay, you need me to show you the way out!”

“Yes-” the fight had turned him around, making it impossible to tell which way to go.  He wanted to be free of the smoke as soon as possible. 

“Can Do!  Oh!  This is just like one of those Spy streams like- well, never mind that right now.  Alright Mista Ransom, I’m gonna need you to move forwards about a hundred meters.” She instructed conspiratorially.  He obliged, thankful to leave the thinking to her.  Using the wall to keep him straight.  “Be careful when you reach the fork!” she cautioned “The passage on your left has a few baddies, the one on your right is clear!”  

On his right- he could just make out two voids stretching before him.  Stealing his resolve he propelled himself right and mercifully broke through the miasma.  He crashed into a dumpster, nearly running smack into the center of another set of guards.  

It had been the wrong way.  

There would be no time to recover, no time for rest.  Furiously he wiped his eyes and gulped down recycled air.  

Rita shrieked in his ear, “Not your right, my right!” but he had no choice but to tune her out.  

The fresh opponent rushed him, their partner charging their blaster.  Nureyev stumbled back towards the smoke, just managing to use his attacker’s momentum to spin them round into their partner.  Their partner roared, firing shots off at random as they fell.  Blaster spun out of their grip on impact.  A stray bolt savaged one of Nureyev’s coat pockets, scattering it’s contents on the stones.  Hopefully there wouldn’t have been anything important in there.  

Nureyev readjusted his knife grip and threw at the tangle of limbs.  One of the figures stilled.  He hobbled towards them as fast as he could, retrieving the blade.  He’d already lost one and that was one too many.  

It was a mistake. 

Pain shot through his leg making him cry out.  He fell hard separated anew from his weapon.  He’d been struck down by the spare guard.  They spat words that were sure to be insults as they disentangled themselves from the motionless body. 

Nureyev gasped, twisting away towards the fallen blaster.  It had landed some distance away, but one advantage of long limbs was reach-  The guard growled and caught his foot, drawing him backwards.  He kicked out and the hands clawed higher.  It seemed they both were trying for the same weapon.

"Let go- " Nureyev bit out attempting to dislodge the guard. 

"Never, scum- " they shot back in perfect Brahmese.  Before that could sink in, fingers jammed into his bandages, into the wound-  Nureyev keened, paralyzed by the shock of it.  

First rule of thriving Pete, you can't afford to be loud. 

Rita shrieked all the louder.  Nureyev was at once hot and cold and utterly overwhelmed..  He knew he was hurt, thank you, he knew it!  He could do without the constant reminders.  

The guard made use of their opportunity by clambering over Nureyev.  Hand planted on his spine, pushing him down.  The thief refused to let it be that easy; scanning for something, anything he could use-

There!

His pocket knife!  

Nureyev’s arm shot out, scooping up the tool and flicking it open.  He twisted, simultaneously throwing them off and swiping upwards.  The blade bit into cloth and flesh.  They reared back startled, leaving Nureyev to wriggle free.  On hands and knees he scrambled to the blaster.  

Nureyev may not have the skills of a certain lovely sharp shooter, but at a distance like this, he couldn't miss.  

The stunner went straight to their chest and all went quiet.  He folded over, resting his forehead on the damp of the grimy street, forcing down bile once more.

"Mista Ransom!!!  Oh Mista Ransom!  Are you there?  Please say you're there, cuz I'm not sure how I could face the boss if I…."

"Rita-"

"....got you blown up or somethin, cuz know I'd miss you oh so much but Boss- oh I couldn't imagine-"

"I'm- ha- I'm fine- Rita-" he tried again, louder this time.  His voice was thick and rough, entirely unlike the persona he’d been so careful to maintain around the crew. 

There was a loud clatter from the other end and a sharp intake of breath.  It sounded as though Rita knocked something over "Mista Ransom!  You ought to feel ashamed!  Scaring a girl like that!  Don’t you know that-" she cut off abruptly “Ugh oh, Mista Ransom!  You gotta get out of there, stat!  There are reinforcements on the way and I don't think they are too happy!”

Nureyev groaned and thanked Rita.  He supposed it was a lucky thing that he was so averse to capture.  It had been a long time since cold stone had been so welcoming.  

“What are you waiting’ for Mista Ransom?” 

“N-nothing- Rita.  Merely -becoming acquainted with the cobble work.”  he murmured.  In truth, he was drained to his core.  His head was spinning, body aching, leg burning and he was just so- thirsty.  There was at least something he could do about the last one, but not for a while, and not without getting up.  The entire distraction had taken far more out of him than anticipated.  

“Mista Ransom, you know I don’t speak nothin but Solar-” she started, but he wasn’t listening.  

Distraction .  His mind snagged on the word.

That was right, he was luring Galactic Star’s First Bank away from Juno.  Juno, gorgeous, wonderful Juno who’d taken a poison dart for him, who needed him right now.  

Nureyev had to get back to him, no matter what.  

In the end, Nureyev had trusted Rita to guide him back to the safe house.  She’d insisted after he nearly ran into another set of guards.  He was too tired to fight.  More than once considering folding himself up into a corner and waiting for the excitement to die down.  Moving in the open like this- didn't sit well with him.  

It took a lot longer to return to the grubby street of the safe house, and longer still to check and recheck he hadn’t been followed or bugged.  

“Thank you again- Rita-”  Privately he vowed to do something nice for her if and when they’d return to the ship.

“Oh and Mista Ransom?”

“Hm?”

“Take care of yourself, alright?  Ya make Mista Steel real happy- and- and I want ya both back in one piece okay?”

Nureyev was taken aback for a moment, mind blanking over the words.  It was- touching, and he had no idea what to do with that.  

He cleared his throat.  “I will do everything in my power to make that happen.” and he meant it.  

Chapter Text

The dim light of the safe house shined supernaturally bright after the darkness outside.  The planetoid revolved slowly, so it would be another day or so before they found themselves back in the sun’s rays.  

Hopefully they would be gone by that time. 

Nureyev blinked against the brightness, realizing he cracked a lens during the excursion.  At the moment he was too tired to care.  The Carte Blanch held a spare set or two dozen for just such an occasion.  

No, the only thing he had room to think about was Juno.

Juno, his goddess, was still sleeping on the couch.  Still in the same recovery position that Nureyev had left him in.  The horrid little black box nestled next to his side.  

"It's been a- a while - Juno-" he said to the still form.  Juno didn’t stir.  Nureyev hadn’t expected him to.  

All the same, the Thief stumbled over to the Detective and plopped down on the makeshift coffee table.  If he was being honest with himself, and he rarely was, there was something comforting about being this close to his partner again.  

Juno's chest rose and fell with a frantic rhythm and his eye danced under the lid.  Nureyev frowned.  Whatever dream he seemed to be having, it didn’t look to be a good one.  

Nureyev contemplated the wisdom of waking Juno.  If this was their room on the Carte Blanche, he’d have done it already, chasing away the nightmares that plagued him.  He paused, halfway to the pulse point at the lady’s throat.  

The pepper bomb residue still tingled on his skin.  It probably wouldn't hurt Juno, goodness knows he was a tough lady- but all the same it would be best to wash up beforehand. 

Rita had agreed to message him if she noticed guards near the safe house.  Judging by the live feed she’d sent, the security was still in a frenzy over Nureyev’s earlier theatrics.  That was something, at least.  

He sighed, wilting over his knees.  He should call Vespa.  He should report to the Captain.  He should be securing the safe house.  He should be doing anything other than watching the little dots on the comms screen buzz about his last known location.  

It was some time before Nureyev felt ready to stand again.

The smoke had worked its way into everything .  His hair, skin, clothes, makeup, everything .  This was promising to be a production.

Carefully he shrugged off his coat and set to work in the sink.  A quick glance at the mirror told him what he already knew.  Gone were the knife sharp cat eyes and the carefully contoured cheeks.  Now the coverage was patchy at best and gore splattered at worst.  Nureyev scoured down the grime on his hands and aggressively attacked the makeup streaks.  The water wasn’t working fast enough, each plunge setting him to ache afresh.  Under him, his leg were trembling, threatening to give at any moment.  

There was nothing for it, he’d just have to shower the stuff off.   It wasn’t like he ever dried off from the earlier river dip anyways.  With an impatient puff of air, he sat himself on the toilet and stripped off boots, socks, corset and shirt.  All of these items have been protected from the worst of the fumes by the long coat.  Not so his trousers.  

At first the icy water activated the chemical residue afresh.  He scrubbed his skin raw with a bar of upscale hotel soap.  Well, the hotel it came from may have been upscale, but the soap itself was as mediocre as any other hotel soap.  He glared at it as though it was it’s fault he was in this mess.  Fresh scrapes and bruises blossomed across his chest and arms.  

The water ran off in muddy brown and rusted red, gradually fading sudsy clear as blood stains and dirt alike were rinsed away.  

Nureyev slid down onto the shower stool, fighting off the exhaustion.  In his impatience, he’d forgotten about the bandage.  

First rule of thieving, Nureyev chastised himself, if you want to stay alive, keep a level head. 

Numb fingers struggled with the bandage fastenings.  It was harder to remove the wrappings than it had been to apply them.  He expanded the tear in the leg seam to gain better access, exposing the burn beneath.  The sight churned his stomach, which was something.  He’d never considered himself squeamish.  

The angry red of the burn was expected, unpleasant, but expected.  But he wasn’t prepared for the purple tinged veins webbing out from the injury or how tight the skin was stretched about it.  There was something- unsettling about seeing your own flesh distorted in such a fashion…

File it away- just file it away.

As soon  as he was out of the shower and re-clothed; Nureyev decided to take Vespa’s advice and down a glass of water.  It repeated on him just as quick and he was left bowed over the sink, coughing and sputtering while his stomach roiled.  His knuckles turned to white over the porcelain as he waited for the nausea to die down.  

Confound it all.

He dragged his head up to stair at the mirror.  Face bare and hair free of product, he could plainly see the high flush on his cheeks and bruised circles under his eyes.  “Oh what are you looking at?” he rasped at his haggard reflection.   He should have known better, did know better.  He’d had enough experience to know when he could and couldn’t keep something down.  

That horrid chill bit deeper into his bones, conspiring with the fire of the injury to make him thoroughly miserable.  He shuddered against it.  

This wasn’t right, he knew.  This wasn’t supposed to be how a blaster shot felt- fresh or no.  Goodness knows he’s had enough of them.  

Nureyev sighed, bringing out two glasses of water and a clean cloth ripped in equal parts.  

“Juno, love.” Nureyev coaxed, all but collapsing on the tiny coffee table, water sloshing over his fingers.  He could do this while he slept, but much rather the lady be awake to take his fluids.  “Love-” he coaxed, running his fingers through his curls like he'd wanted to ever since his return.  He was rewarded with a gentle moan and Juno pressing into his hand.  

“Love- You have to drink for me-” 

“Don’ feel good.” his voice was so weak, Nureyev tried not to think about what that could mean.  

“I know-” he said, dipping the cloth in the water and bringing it to Juno’s lips, “J-Just take the water from that.”  

Juno pulled away from the cold, hand wrapping around Nureyev’s wrist.  “Naugh’ a child-”

Nureyev chuckled fondly “Drink, or Vespa will have both our heads.” 

“Vespa?” 

“I d-dare say she isn't too…. pleased at the moment.”

“Wha else ‘s new?” Juno commented, but took the cloth from Nureyev.  He was tentative at first but really started to pull on it, dipping messily back in the cup for more.  

“Slow, if you d-don’t want it repeating on you.” Juno hummed in affirmation.  That would have to do.  

Nureyev took a hit off his own cloth and turned his attention to the injury.  Though the surrounding skin had dried by now, the burn itself was swollen and oozing a clear fluid.  He didn’t need Vespa to tell him that it had been contaminated.  Didn’t need her to explain that the speed at which the inflammation was spreading was concerning.  Didn’t need her to tell him there was nothing that could be done until they returned to the ship.  

File it away.

“Hh-hell, ‘Reyev-” He jumped, twisting to see Juno staring.  His eye was wide, glassy and his parlor was more ashen than before.  

“Lay back love.” Nureyev soothed, gently pushing Juno back.  The Detective collapsed under his gentle touch with a little strangled sound.  “D-don’t look.”  He hadn’t meant for him to see.  The thought of moving to another room, of having to stand another minute, made him sick.  Still, he should have tried harder to spare Juno.  

“It’s- bad-” as distorted as his words were, Nureyev could tell it was a statement, not a question.  

“Nothing that c-can’t be managed.” he shivered.  He almost believed it.  “Have some more water- i-if you can.”  

Nureyev tried to work quickly, using what little remained of the smuggler’s first aid kit to clean the wound and apply burn ointment.  The task was made difficult by clumsy cold hands.  The exercise may prove pointless, but at least nothing else was likely to add to the contamination.  

He should make a report to Buddy, maybe even get some answers as to what was going on with the Carte Blanche.  

Nureyev pursed his lips looking at the comms.  His mind was fuzzy at the edges, from fatigue and stress.  A call with someone who could see through so much of his cover on a good day, was daunting.  

And yet….

“Captain Auranko.” his usual smooth voice was rough and unwieldy.  "I believe it is t-time for a r-report."

"Pete, darling you sound dreadful." Nureyev couldn't tell if she was disappointed or concerned.  Perhaps both.  

"Yes well, a l-lot has... transported."

"Transpired?"

"Quite." He coughed.  "We have e-encountered several….troubles.  The b-box is fine but they are a-aware we are still within the c-city."

"Yes, I've heard something of your predicament Pete.  I assure you we are doing everything we can to collect you."

"When , Captain." He coughed harder, "we are r-running out of the…" he couldn't remember the right word for time "hours- "

There was a pause, voices in the back, urgent and cutting.  He'd lose her- he’d lose her before he’d a chance to get answers, to get help.

"P-please, Captain-" 

She sighed, "I'll be frank with you Pete.   Listen closely, we don't have time for questions." 

The thief cleared his throat "Of course-"

"Planetoid Xnon is owned by Galactic Stars First Bank .  The entire place is on lockdown after our stunt." There was a strange sound like crunching metal  and Buddy gave a sharp intake of breath.  Shouting something to the Carte Blanche team.  

"They know t-the Carte Blanche is there."  Nureyev commented.  He didn't have to be a detective to put that together. 

"Quite."

"Ah." The complicated note of emotion welled up within, there wouldn't be a rescue, they wouldn't be able to get close.  The bank would get them in the end and there would be nothing he could do about it.  Nureyev felt the knot in his throat before he had a chance to file it away.  "S-so we are to be… left b-behind."  Made to follow their pirates deal.  

"And leave two injured crew to fend for themselves against an overgrown bully?  I think not, dear.  Jet and Rita have been coordinating their efforts, we will beat them yet." 

"Captain-"

"There is no need to be such a negative man Pete.  We will get back to you.  These bank executives made the mistake of coveting two things that are mine, my crew and my information.  I'm not in the mood for sharing."

Nureyev let out a strangled sort of laugh that was far from his usual chuckle. 

"I will transfer you to Vespa, keep us in the loop darling."

"No need f-for the transfer.  T-tell her things are much the s-same on our end.  We will await the next contact."

"Very well, I'll defer to your judgement then Pete.  Buddy out." 

 Nureyev sagged at the call end.  He'd the distinct feeling like Buddy was withholding something from them.  He wasn't sure if that was a good or bad thing, so he filed that away for future consideration.

"They knnow 'bout th' ship?"  Juno inquired in the lull.

"It would seem s-so." Nureyev said.  He had no intention of lying to Juno, even in a state like this. 

"J-Jet and Rita are on it though." 

"Rita-" Juno gave a snort, "almos' feel bad- for-” he gasped “'em- ah-"  His face twisted and he curled tighter on himself.  

“L-love, you should- reset.” he said, scooting himself over so that he was within reach of Juno.  

“You’re ss-switchin’ words- Reyev-” he was looking up at him with that glassy eye.  

“What?”  

“Switching- words-” Juno tried again.  “You’ve been- doin’ it a lot-” 

Then it clicked.

“I-" he floundered, " Oh my.  I hadn’t realized-” and he hadn’t.  But now that he was actually thinking about it, he’d been doing it for a while.  His hand drifted up to his traitorous lips.  That was definitely a hit to his professional pride.  It had been a long time since he'd slipped like this; would that only get more common as he got older?  Or.... 

File it away-

"You're- tired- too-" Juno added, reaching out to put his hand on Nureyev's knee.  It seemed to be meant as a squeeze, but his fingers couldn't quite manage.  He'd likely be unable to work a blaster in this state.

He was defenseless.

Just file it all away-

"It's- alright." Nureyev shrugged delicately.

"No- it's s'not." 

Nureyev hummed, wrapping his fingers about Juno's wrist, feeling the pulse point fast and light.  In truth, he would be alright as long as Juno's heart kept beating.

After Juno drifted off once more, Nureyev took to securing the safe house again.  Moving around more than was wise judging by the dizzy spells.  

One eye was on the guard locator Rita sent, another kept on his love.  

Two hours passed, Vespa called, Juno was examined again.  His heart rate was inching up but otherwise, he was much the same.  She didn't know when they'd return. 

Nureyev's eyelids itched to close.  He could not rest yet.

He refused.  

To keep awake, he attempted a few mobility exercises.  A near collapse on the second set led him to abandon the attempt.  The movements weren’t hard, per say, but they were deceptively taxing.  One that left him shaking and gasping on the ground.  Forgetting that was a stupid, foolish mistake.  Nureyev was slipping.

The buzzing of an incoming call forced him back to reality.  He’d been dangerously close to nodding off again, lulled into stillness by the myriad of aches and pains that plagued him.  He groaned sluggishly retrieving the comms.  It was Vespa, goodness, had it really been two hours?  

Her tone held none of it’s usual bite.  If Nureyev didn’t know better, he’d call it concern.   Juno was much the same, fast asleep, curled on his side, face pinched in pain.  Nureyev longed to kiss it away, even as he swayed over him.  As if he was of any use to the Detective now.  

He patrolled the safehouse again, pausing in front of the crates. They easily outnumbered the pair.  The more Nureyev considered them, the more ominous he found their hidden insides to be.  What if they had listening devices inside?  Cameras?  Drones?  It could also be completely innocuous- 

It was reminding him of the old earth thought experiment.  There was a cat in a box, and you didn’t know if the cat was alive or dead until you opened that box.  Until you did, both possibilities remained true at once.  He thought that old earthlings must have been very cruel or cowardly to trap such a creature in the first place and not check on it’s welfare.  In his current state, he related very much to the cat.  

Were the contents of the crate dangerous?  Or harmless?  There was only one way to find out.  

Nureyev pulled up a smaller box for a seat and set a plasma cutter to the side.  Slicing through the synth wood till it hung loose from the hinge left against the floor.  He glanced over at Juno and pulled.  

Tiny vials cascaded from the packing fungus.  Nureyev jumped, jarring his leg and hissing.  It was a far cry from what he’d been expecting.  Cautiously, he reached in and scooped up a tiny glass bottle bearing the legend ‘ Saffron Pharmaceuticals, Venucian SARS-97 Vaccine ’  

He grabbed another squinting at the label ‘ Saffron Pharmaceuticals, Venucian SARS-97 Vaccine ’

A brief investigation revealed the entire crate contained the long expired vaccines.  Nureyev stood, dizzied by the sudden motion and moved to the next crate.  This too contained medical devices, two ventilators and their accompanied equipment.  Another crate contained bandages and antiseptic.  Another filled with tiny computerized vital monitors.  Still another was cramped with some sort of scanning tech.  Crate after crate contained specialized medical supplies.  

Nureyev’s chest constricted, wherever these had intended to go, they were meant to save people on the Outer Rim.  Not be left to rot in a forgotten smuggler den.  

Out of morbid curiosity, he snagged a few of the vials for future consideration.  Then sent a picture of the medical equipment to Vespa with a caption “Would these items still be of use?” 

There would have been many people on Brahma alone that would have benefited from such equipment.  It was near impossible to get on the war torn Outer Rim.  Frustration bubbled out from some locked file.  In his fatigued state, it was near impossible to hold it back.  

Just then, the Detective stirred.  The file snapped shut and Nureyev hobbled back to his love.  

Something seemed to have changed, even through the brain fog, it was plain to see. 

“J-Juno?” Nureyev asked.  

Juno let out a low pained groan, fingers twisting into his stomach. “ ‘Reyev- ” he gasped, his chest stuttering.  “ Nu-reyev- ” he was struggling as if trying to force himself upright.  

“What’s ha-happening love-” 

“Hu- hur’s -” he keened.  Nureyev’s blood ran cold, his hands fluttering over the lady.  Unsure whether he should push him back down or help him up.  

“Hurts?  Juno- w-what hurts?” 

Juno swayed on his elbow, eye screwed shut.  

“Love ?” 

He looked as though he was going to be sick.  Nureyev pushed a bin under him just in time for him to wretch.  His whole body shook from the force of it, he was left gasping from the strain before it hit him again.  A curdled mass of red splattered against the bottom of the bin.  

Blood

Juno was bleeding on the inside. 

Nureyev didn’t wait for him to finish, he called Vespa barely able to keep the panic down.  

“I’m kind of busy thief, if this is about the equi-”

“Juno’s Bleeding !” Nureyev choked out.  

“Whut?” 

“Please Vespa- Juno- Juno is-” he groped for the right phrase, “How do you say- internal bleeding-'' the Brahmese slipped out of his mouth before he could think to stop it.  Juno heaved again, dissolving into dry heaves.  Nureyev wasn’t sure if that was a good or bad thing.  “Sick on blood.” he managed at long last.  

“Wait, you're telling me he’s vomiting blood?”

“Yes.” 

She swore.

“How d-do I stop it?” 

“Ransom-” she sounded tired.  Almost defeated.  He couldn't understand.  There had to be something he could do, anything that he could do. 

“Please- I-” he was hyperventilating now, getting dizzy from it.  Juno was shaking in his spare arm, just keeping himself from toppling over.  He couldn't lose him, not like this. “Please-” his voice broke.  

“Whoa, hey!  First Ransom, I’m going to need you to breathe for me!  Sheish!”  He tried, grounding himself with the heat radiating from Juno.  “Okay look, I can’t promise anything right now, but gonna need you to turn on the video feed, I need to see what’s going on.” He did.  

As before he followed her instructions.  Juno seemed to collapse in on himself, curling around his core.  

“Here’s the story Ransom.” Nureyev perked up, trying with all his might to focus on Vespa’s voice.  “He’s in bad shape.” he snorted, he knew that.  “But judging by the color and texture of the blood, it's a slow bleed.  We have the time to get to you.”

“S-so, I am to s-sit in idle- the entire time ?” 

“Your Job, Thief, is the same as before!” she snapped, sounding more like her usual self.  “His heart and brain need blood circulation so elevate his feet.” Nureyev got a box to prop Juno’s feet on and carefully turned him onto his back.  Juno whined at the motion and Vespa swore loudly “Not on his back Thief!  Damn it!  Want him to choke if he ralfs again?!  Keep him on his side, the recovery position.”  Nureyev could kick himself as he hurried to comply, Juno made another piteous sound that tugged at his heart.  “No, it’s not comfortable, but it will improve his chances of survival.” 

It was harder than it should have been to move Juno, he was panting by the end, the world swirling “What n-now?” 

“If he can keep it down, get water into him.  Mostly just keep him alive until we get there.” 

“When will that be- ” he was frustrated, tired.  He wanted answers.  He pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to massage out the headache that had taken residence in his temples.  

“I don’t know what you are playing at Ransom, but I don’t speak Brahmese!” 

“Wha- I-” he swallowed, he’d done it again.  Maybe if he just ignored it- “W-when are you coming?” 

“Look, we’ll keep you apprised.  And goddamnit, do something about that chill.  I can’t deal with you keeling over on us.  Talk to you next check in.” and she hung up.

He just had to wait it out.

He could do that.  A shiver passed down his spine, clothes scraping over hypersensitive skin.  

He could wait.

It was getting- hard- to concentrate.  Nureyev couldn't patrol the safe house anymore, could scarcely move.  So instead, he was saving what was left of his strength for what was to come.  Whatever that may be.  

The fatigue was crushing and still he kept his eyes open.  He would not leave Juno, not if there was anything he could do about it.  

He squeezed the handle of the blade, the sharp edges of the naked handle digging into his palm.  Over and over he squeezed until it hurt, and backed off, lulling himself into a half hypnotic state.  So long as he could squeeze, he could feel the pain, so long as he felt the pain, he could stay awake.  

That was the hope anyways.

It was different from the consuming burn in his leg, the unruly, hungry sort of agony that was far beyond his control.  Far beyond anything he could file away. 

The squeezing distracted from it, in a small way.  Any relief was welcome.  

Nureyev bowed over his knees, eyes trained on the comms screen and the blurry dots migrating over the surface of the map.  Squeezing the handle.  Paying no attention to the moisture working it’s way down his wrist.  

It had been- hours- since they last heard from the Carte Blanche.  Hours since he heard a peep out of Juno-  The only way the thief could be sure Juno was alive was the heat rolling off his skin.  

They’ve been abandoned.  

He was sure.

Buddy Auranko had promised that the Carte Blanche would be more than a team, that it would be a family.  He snorted derisively.  He should have taken Juno and run right then and there.  Family’s only ever brought suffering.  

The burn gave a particularly nasty throb, Nureyev jumped, hissing against the onslaught, clutching high over the wound.  How long would they last like this?  

The comms started to beep.  Nureyev glanced down and saw activity on the screen.  The details were lost to him, but what was known was that the guards of Galactic Stars First Bank were on the move. 

He wasn’t sure what that could mean, but it couldn’t be good.  

There was a rattling at the door.  Nureyev’s heart plummeted.   Now ?  Of all times.  Why couldn't they just leave them alone?  

Someone pounded on the door, a large someone judging by the racket it made, setting Nureyev’s head to pound.  There were voices from the other end.  Nureyev’s mind stretched them into something sinister and ominous.  He straightened his leaden limbs.  Preparing himself.

If they expected him to go out without a fight, then they were sorely mistaken.  

Juno was depending on him.

The door was flung open and Nureyev used the last of his strength to launch himself at the intruders.  The blade sung through the air, making contact judging by the grunt.  A large blurry person shouted, staggering away from the knife.  

They weren’t fighting back.  

That was strange.  Not only weren’t they fighting back, but they seemed to be calling out to him-  As though they- recognized him.

It did nothing to soothe his fears.

Nureyev collided painfully with the door jam wheeling around and-

“‘ansom!  Ransom!  We are not a threat!  Ransom!”

He staggered, a familiar figure in a tan overcoat swam before his eyes.  

Nureyev- knew that coat. 

“J-Jet?” he asked, bewildered.  How was it possible that they were there?  They’d left them?  Hadn’t they?  Blackness encroached on what was left of his vision.  

“Yes.  We have come to collect you.” 

“ Oh- Thank the stars- ” and Nureyev knew no more.   

Chapter Text

There was an itch -  Well, itch was rather an overstatement.  It was more of a tickle , and it resided at the end of his nose.  A quick scratch would undoubtedly be gratifying.  Satiate that base need.  At the same time, it was clashing with another instinctual desire to remain still-  Certain that it would be a mistake to move.  

Nureyev had drifted deep in the waters of the subconscious.  He wasn’t sure if he liked it there or hated it.  On the one hand, there was nothing to worry about, no snide comments to rebuff, or facades to maintain, no deadlines to meet, or debts to collect.  Almost peaceful .  

Almost .    

Hints of the conscious world broke through now and then; flashes of bright lights, soft conversation- a hand in his own, rough from calluses and warm.  

So very warm -

The tickle persisted.

Oh confound it all.

Nureyev gave in, but his hand got tangled in something.

A threat?

The vague notion forced him to open his eyes.  A blurry scape came to greet him.  There seemed to be- cords- trailing out of his hand-  

No, not cords- tubes .  

A quick inspection found the were leading into and, well, out of his person. 

Nureyev shifted, groaning as a myriad of aches and pains made themselves known.  His leg twinged.  That's when he remembered the injury, the mission of the black box and most importantly-

“Juno?” he asked tentatively to the room, voice croaking with neglect.  

Save for the whir of equipment and the persistent beep of a heart monitor, he was met with silence.  

He must be in the med bay in the carte blanche- that was the only thing that made sense.  And if he was in the medbay of the carte blanche then Juno should be here too- should be with him.  The lady had been so sick- 

“Juno?” he called more urgently.

Nureyev glanced to the side.  A bed was pushed up to his own, so close that they were practically touching.  The crew knew they’d want to be close-  

The bed was empty.

He could see the blurred outline of deep wrinkles and sloppy edge work.  It bore the signs of being made in a rush.

Dread coiled in his gut.  Nureyev reached over, the bedding was cold.  

No.

The bed was empty-

No- please-

The most damning piece of evidence came from the far side table where a thin strip of material lay.  An eye patch.  Juno's eye patch.  He never went anywhere without it covered, he explained the weight of it was comforting.

If it was laying abandoned, then Juno was- 

A harsh, dry sob tore its way out of him, shaking his body so hard he thought his chest would collapse.  

Even after everything that happened-   Everything he did-   It wasn’t enough to protect Juno-

He wasn’t enough-

Another sob broke loose threatening to cleave him in two.  He curled over his knees, bandaged hand pressed to his mouth.  All the stress and strife and the grief of the past few days breaking free of their carefully curated filing system.  

Juno was gone-

Juno was gone and it was his fault.

If he'd been more careful in the first place, more observant- then maybe Juno wouldn't have been on the line of fire to begin with.

Maybe he wouldn't have gotten hurt protecting him.

Maybe Juno wouldn't have left-

He sobbed again, muffled into his knees.  Lungs burning for want of air.

Juno was never supposed to get hurt.  He knew his time with Juno would be brief but this-  

He really couldn’t do anything right-

He shook all the harder, feeling for all the world that his chest would collapse in on itself.  It was too much, just far too much.   

"Babe?"

Nureyev froze, scarcely able to believe his ears.

"Babe?  What's up?" There he was, Juno's fuzzy outline standing in the doorway.

It was the most beautiful thing he could have hoped to see.

At last the tears came.

"Oh hell, Reyev?  What's wrong?" The lady hobbled over, "Are you hurt?   I mean, stupid question- but- should I get Ves-ouff" as soon as he was close enough, Nureyev wrapped his arms around him.  Squeezing as tight as he could manage in their awkward position.  

“You’re- here- ” he choked out.  You’re alive- was what he meant.

“Yeah, of course I am.” Juno hugged back, tenderly though, as though he were afraid of breaking the thief.  "Babe?  What's the matter?" He rubbed his hand up and down his spine in a soothing motion.  

It was a long time before Nureyev was able to answer.  As if his hold on Juno was enough to keep him from falling apart.

"I- I thought you'd l-left-" he murmured into Juno's shoulder, a small broken admonishment of a fear that wouldn't be filled away.

It hadn't come out right, he knew as soon as Juno stiffened "Nureyev, I couldn't-"

Nureyev shook his head, realizing how that sounded.  He pulled away to look at his face, an unsteady hand cupping Juno's cheek.  He wished he had his glasses.

"I thought I had lost you, that you didn’t make - " he could feel a fresh bout coming on, tears spilling over his cheeks.  He let his head fall into the crook of the Detective's neck.  

"Reyev-" Juno's voice was impossibly fond.  "Told you I had reservations for a warm ditch somewhere."

Nureyev laughed thickly, "You're impossible."

"And you're stuck with me.  Scooch over, I’m getting a little dizzy here." 

The thief made room and Juno slid in next to him.  "Man, I leave the room for one minute and this is what happens." he teased.  It was so very Juno- so very different from the lady that had just clung to life in that dreadful smuggler’s den.  

Nureyev forced out another laugh scrubbed at his eyes as more tears fell "I- I know- it's quite foolish." 

"Hey no, not what I meant.  This is good, getting it out or whatever."

Nureyev scoffed "h-hardly feels it-" he coughed.

"Yeah, well, you need to practice more." The thief hummed.  He knew Juno worried about his filing system.  They touched on it now and again after their... poetry readings.  He hadn’t said it in so many words but the Detective was anything but subtle.  

Somehow Juno arranged himself so that he could pull Nureyev into his chest, trailing his fingers up and down the thief’s arm.  Nureyev allowed himself to be drawn in, he hurt too much to resist, tears abating into dampness.  He coughed again, this time more forceful.  His chest felt tight, heavy even.  

"Oh, got ya something." Juno said, sliding a smooth case into Nureyev's hands.  "Your last pair were a blinding hazard.  The crew is down a set of organic eyes as it is."

It was a glasses case.  Nureyev smiled, cracking it open and slipping them on.  

"Better?"

"Considerably."

"Good, it took some time to track them down in your room."

Nureyev chuckled, "Suppose it would.  Thank you, Love."

Juno laughed, giving a gentle squeeze.

“You weren’t the only one thrown for a loop.  Hell babe, you were fighting all on your own, I couldn't do a thing-  And that leg of yours was no joke- heh- The way Vespa was talking, sounded like you weren’t gonna-” he trailed off, voice cracking.  “You were out for a long time." 

A long time?  Nureyev filled that away for future consideration in favor of his partner.  After all, he wasn’t the only one still raw from their- misadventure.  

"And you, Juno?  How are you?" He directed a new coughing bout into his wrist.

"Fine.  My kidneys took a bit of a beating, but I'm-" Nureyev coughed again, "recovering.  You okay?"

“Yes.” the thief rubbed his chest attempting to settle back.  “You said you were- dizzy.” 

“Yeah, lucky there wasn’t any lasting damage.  Our friends at Galactic Star’s First Bank designed it ugly but didn’t bother with a lethal dose.”  

“Not a lethal- Juno, you were bleeding.” he straightened up a little, incredulous.  

“And there won’t be any lasting damage.” 

“But- y-” he coughed “you-” Nureyev dissolved into a full fit.  A rattling wet thing that clawed at his throat.  He pushed away, seeking space while the obstruction cleared.  

"Babe?  Babe , hey- easy-" Juno swore "I- I'm going to get Vespa."

Nureyev's heart plummeted. He reached out and snatched Juno’s wrist with his free hand.  Shaking his head.  

"Nureyev-"

"I'm- alright-" he wheezed a bit breathless "Just- a cough-"

“Just a cough?  Nureyev, I don’t think there is anything simple about-” he stopped, and took a breath, “Look, Vespa will have my head if I don’t tell her you’re up.”

“Just a little more- time.  Before Vespa.” he huffed.  

Juno kissed him on the forehead. “If you hadn’t been out for so long, I probably would be more inclined to do that.”  With that he disentangled himself from the thief, mindful not to interfere with his wiring.  

“Hang on-” Nureyev said weakly, processing what Juno had just said “Just- how long was I out?” 

Juno flashed him an odd sort of smile that didn’t quite reach his eye. “That’s a conversation for you and your doctor.” 

Exhausted, Nureyev sagged back into his pillows.  

"So- sleeping beauty is finally awake hugh."  Nureyev jumped, the heart monitor spiking.  "Christ, calm down Thief, it would really suck if you were to pass out before we get in our little Q & A session."

That wasn't reassuring.

He wished Juno was still there. 

“I- suppose we are.” Nureyev chose his words carefully, arranging himself so that he appeared relaxed, pulling the tension to his core.  His memories were still foggy, but he had a feeling there was a reason he should feel uneasy about this conversation.  “How-" his voice broke, he was still raw from the earlier misunderstanding "How long was I out?” 

Vespa snorted “Four,” she glanced at her watch “almost five days.”

She couldn’t have stunned him more if she slapped him “ Five days?” he hadn't expected that.  

“Yeah Thief, that’s what happens when you run yourself ragged on the goddamned mystery infection of the century.”

Nureyev sat back stunned.  He hadn’t been expecting that.  “And- then Juno-” 

Vespa gave a derisive snort “He’s been up for a few days now, driving me crazy honestly." She turned to him fully “Tell me, do you sleep at all before a heist.”

Nureyev coughed into his sleeve earning him a look “My preparation does indeed involve rest.” 

“That’s not what I asked.” Vespa said flatly.  

He rubbed tiredly at his chest, half heartedly hoping to dislodge the stuffiness there.  If there ever was a time he was in the mood for a lecture on sleep hygiene, this certainly wasn’t it. Vespa was a proponent of it as it helped her manage her condition; however Nureyev had always been able to get away with less sleep when needed.  

"I fail to see why it's relevant."

It was the wrong thing to say.  

" Relevant ?" Vespa sputtered, puffing up "It's relevant Thief, because pulling an all nighter before a heist is an unnecessary risk!  It's relevant because you were in a god damned hostile environment for two days without backup!” He longed to head her off, but that would likely make matters worse.  “When we collected you, Steel was hanging by a thread and you weren’t any better."

Color rose in his cheeks.  Annoyance and shame vying for dominance.  “I seem to recall a number of our plans changing-"

"And it's relevant ." She plowed on "Because it’s a freaking headache trying to figure out why your Solar Thief is babbling at you in perfect Brhamese.”

Nureyev stilled, now remembering precisely why he’d been dreading this conversation.  His traitorous heart beat all the faster.  Vespa’s eyes flicked to the monitor and back.  

“If I recall-” he said slowly, using a cough to cover his nerves “you said you didn’t understand me.” 

“I said I didn’t speak Brahamese moron, I had to deal with my fair share of Brahmese traders and defectors on Rangia.” 

Nureyev tried to school himself as best as he was able.  Vespa had been trying to pry into his personal affairs since he’d signed onto the crew.  “Ah yes, the Rangian swamps-” he countered.  

She flinched visibly. “That’s right, you do your research, don’t you Thief.” her lip curled.

“It’s a matter of public record-” 

“You know I heard what they do on Brahma.  The Guardian Angel System was big news on the outer rim.  And you have the temperament of one of those hoity toity floating city types just lookin for cheap thrills.”

Anxiety spiked at the mention of the Guardian Angel System.  "Oh?"

"Yeah Ransom, oh.  But here's the thing.  I've treated enough Outer Rim refugees in my time to know one when I see 'em.  A life like that leaves marks." 

He didn't say anything.  Ohh he was quite aware of the marks his formative years of scraping together a life on Brahma brought him.  A childhood of malnutrition and stress meant three were developmental milestones he simply missed.  No amount of cosmetic surgeries or finery could hide that from their doctor for long. 

“Is- there a point to this?” his mouth was dry.

Vespa leaned in closer "I wouldn’t have pegged you as an Outer Rim guttersnipe Ransom."  It came out as a statement of fact and more as an accusation.

He didn't have to answer, the heart monitor did that for him.  Dreadful thing.  

Nureyev coughed again.  "Is there a problem?" 

Vespa snorted "A problem?" she laughed without a hint of humor “The problem is that I don’t trust you Thief.” 

"So you've said."

“If you can hide something like that , what else can you do?"  Her eyes bore into his own.  "I don’t trust people I can’t know, thief.”  

That stung more than it should have.  Stupid really.  Vespa’s eyes flicked once more to the monitor, her eyebrow ticked.  He’d never tell, but Vespa had been one of the major reasons he'd chosen to fight with knives.  A younger version of himself had imagined conversations with Vespa and Buddy, had imagined how they'd understand him.  That they’d be his kind of people.  How well they'd get along.  

But you know what they say about meeting your idols-

“Captain Aurinko has been gracious enough to respect my anonymity.” he reminded her tiredly.  Sinking back into the pillows and turning away from her.  

“Leave Buddy out of this.” 

Asleep for five days and he still felt exhausted, remarkable really.  The sigh caught in his throat and turned into another fit.  He doubled over his chest rattling with each cough.  Vespa swore trying to reposition him over his knees to breathe better.  

“God damn it Thief!  Give a little warning before you expel a lung!” she tucked a glass into his hands with instructions to drink.  The water did help, in part, at least.  

Mercifully, his little outburst seemed to reset their conversation.  She checked his vitals, ran a few scans, had him prove to her that he could, in fact, stand if needed.  In turn, she disconnected him from the bulk of the equipment much to his relief.  

It looked like their time was drawing to a close.  As much as Nureyev wanted to be finished with this interrogation, he still had one more thing to ask. 

“Vespa-” 

“What now?”

“How is Juno?”  

"You saw him yourself, didn't ya?"  She fixed him with another look, this one less confrontational than the others.  Might have even been soft on any other face.  “He’s- he’s recovering well.  Once we got him back and flushed his system, got him on a treatment regimen- he perked right up." 

"He- did?" He couldn't hide the hope there.  

"You know you're coming dangerously close to making me puke all over my nice shiny med bay."

"Forgive me, but the last I saw he was-" he trailed off, light years and time away trying to keep Juno from withering to nothing.  "He was so ill-" the words caught. 

"Not gonna deny he needs some serious bed rest, but he's recovering.  And now he doesn't need to moon over the likes of you, I suspect he'll be back on his feet in no time.  Hell, this time tomorrow I'll have you both out of my med bay for good!  Or so help god, I'll give you a couple of reasons to check yourselves in!" 

"So there won't be- any lasting effects?" he pressed, flat out ignoring her latter comment. 

"Fare as I can tell, no.  We'll keep an eye on him."

Nureyev huffed out a laugh curling tighter inwards.  "I- I can't help but feel responsible-" it slipped out before he could think better of it.  Admitting this to Vespa of all people.  Maybe he was hoping for someone to blame him as much as he did himself-

"Oh barff, not you too!"

Nureyev looked up "what?" He eased another cough into his hand.

"If I have to hear another self deprecating-" she sighed "Look, kid.  You two made the best of a crappy situation.  Frankly, there was nothing you could have done differently."

He blinked, this was not what he’d been expecting "I fai-"

“Damn it Thief!  Hasn’t it sunk in yet?  The whole damned pu-ding of a thing was a freaking trap!”  

“A- A what ?” he felt breathless.  The entire affair was a trap? 

“None of the scans indicated hearing damage, Ransom.  A trap!  Lured us in with the promise of riches and then they tried to slap the cuffs on!” 

“Oh- well that’s-” he coughed “What happened-” he sat up a little straighter, ignoring the protests of his aching body as he wrestled Ransom’s persona firmly back into place.  He wanted more information, wanted to fill in the gaps.  Surely he was owed that after the ordeal they went through.

Answers, it seemed, were not forthcoming.  Vespa shook her head “Right now thief, you need to rest up.  Buddy held off the family debriefing until all members were present.” She stood and crossed to the door “And remember, I got my eye on you.” and left, leaving his ears ringing in the silence.  

“Pete, darling, wonderful to see you up and about.” Buddy smiled.

Up and about felt like a generous turn of phrase since he only made it to the kitchen thanks to his lovely goddess. 

It was the next day and far from feeling rested, he was more tired than ever.  Despite spending the night tangled up in Juno.

“It’s all due to Vespa’s careful ministrations.” he acknowledged gracefully.  Earning a smile from Buddy and a harrumph from the resident physician.  She hunkered further into the chair, the scowl somehow carving deeper into her features.  

Since their initial chat, Vespa hadn’t brought up his- language slip.  He supposed he should be grateful, but it made the family meeting all the more nerve wracking.  If Vespa had noticed his little quirk- then the other’s probably had too.  A return to consciousness meant he had time to mull over the mission’s events.  While some details were simply lost to the fog of memory, others were less forgettable.

He coughed into his elbow earning a gentle squeeze from Juno.  

“I agree with Captain A! It is nice to see you movin’ again!  It weren’t right seeing you all quiet and still like that.  Spooky! Like in ‘Age of Desolation, Ghosts Pasts’ Where all the people just abandoned their bodies cuz they were forced out by the Evil Mx. Time!  And- well, I'm not really sure why they did that cuz it made them a whole bunch more powerful and… well- Nice that you’re back Mista Ransom.” she gave a sheepish grin.

“I also agree with this sentiment.” Jet nodded.  “Mx. Time would have done well to leave the people unfrozen.” 

“ Hey!” Juno objected at the same time Rita exalted “ Right ?!”

Buddy let loose a laugh; the warm, full tones somehow captured their attention better than a call to meeting’s start.  “My, I have forgotten how utterly impossible you all are.   It feels like forever and an age since our little family was complete.”

“Indeed.” nodded Jet.

“Before we get too caught up in reunions, there is some long overdue business to attend too.  Juno, Pete, after what you two experienced, you deserve a full explanation.”

Eager for information, Nureyev chimed in “Vespa mentioned a trap.” 

“Quite.” Buddy’s grin soured.  “But before we rehash that bit of history, what happened from your end?  Juno filled us in on the parts he was conscious for- Rita and Vespa discussed your collaboration; however there are pieces missing.  You gave us quite the scare, Pete.  You both did.” 

“Very well Captain.” he nodded, and the pair launched into their story.  It wasn’t his proudest moment.  Equal measure of nerves and guilt vied for his attention as they processed their performance.  The initial part of the mission had gone much as expected, it was only after they triggered the trap that things had gone downhill for them.  He tried, somewhat unsuccessfully, to keep his emotions out of the review.  For professional reasons, of course.  At least, that was what he told himself.  

“So they still had surveillance drones after all- damn.” Buddy sat back into her seat, the picture of contemplation.  

“It would appear so.”

“They weren’t nothin’ fancy though.  Seemed to have been put together in a bit of a rush, their code was a mess.” Rita added helpfully.  

“I do appreciate your swift response on the matter.” the Thief smiled tiredly, and Rita beamed back “And the tracking data too, that was quite reassuring.” 

“Awa shucks!  That weren’t no problem at all Mista Ransom!  Least I could do given you two were trapped Xnon!  All alone without any backup!  Like the dames in ‘ Water Desert 4, Revenge of the Selky !’  Where the cat girls were trapped on a ship attacked by angry seals!  And their fuel supply ran out and they had to fend for themselves until they were rescued by their own DIY blimp!  They shaped it like a seal so that they weren’t detected and it was great!” 

“Is that where you thought of disguising the carte blanche as prisoner transport?” Buddy asked intrigued.

“Oh no, that idea came because I intercepted some of their comms communications to Galactic Stars First Bank main office.  They thought three little encryptions were gonna keep Rita out, but I could crack those in my sleep easy ! Mhnn !”

“You certainly are in a class of your own dear.”  Buddy admonished.  “Thank you Juno, Pete, I know that can’t have been easy to recant.” 

“Easy enough for me, I was asleep for most of it.” the Detective grumbled. 

“Please dear, poisoned half to death is hardly as restful as sleep.  And no fault of your own or Pete’s for that matter.  You two seem intent on self flagellation but I do not see fault with your performance.  I, perhaps, would have liked to have known the extent of Pete’s language abilities sooner.” they made eye contact for the briefest of seconds, making his heart pound all the harder.  

This , he felt, was it.   Buddy would start to infer or pry into his past and he’d be without his usual defenses.  No doubt armed with what Vespa had already deduced.  He braced himself and prepared.  

“But would settle for a more complete understanding of your language competencies; by weeks end.  If it is a matter of comfort Pete, the conversation can stay between the two of us.”

That was unexpected.  Nureyev blinked in surprise and managed a thank you.  It was- novel, having a team leader that had his back.  Certainly not something he was used to.  

“Alright Buddy but you haven’t explained what the hell happened up here.  There are way too many gaps for comfort.” Juno’s voice cut into his musings, as it often did, bringing him back to the present.

“We were just getting to that Juno.” She sighed, “I’m afraid the explanation may be a tad lackluster compared to the ordeal that you just went through.  Our entire venture was founded on faulty information.  Information, as it turns out, that had been put out there by Galactic Stars First Bank , themselves.  A classic Honey Trap.  They lure us in with promises of riches and then they simply refuse to allow us to leave.”  

“Refuse to let us leave-” 

“Not just like anyone can waltz right onto the shores of Xnon and take the creds they desire, Juno.  It requires skill and resources to accomplish such a feat.”

“Ended up doing some diggin’ Boss and found some pretty big names that tried to case the joint before us!  All kept pretty hush hush though.  Looks like they turn in the thieves for a bounty and repurpose their equipment real crafty like!  Explains why their systems were so missmashed!”

“Certainly explains the drones.” Nureyev mulled the information over thoughtfully.  Recalling the odd way the stunners had been welded onto the machines.  Muffling a cough into his elbow.  

“So you’re telling me that they have the entire  planetoid under their thumb?” Juno raised his eyebrows.

“Exactly that dear.”  Buddy shot back airily.  “Not just the ground, but skies as well, it seems.”  

“As soon as you triggered the alarm below, they triangled our location, sent ships after us.  We had to go over to the neighboring asteroid fields to lose them.”

“The neighboring asteroid fields?  But Big Guy- that's-”

“A distance away. We know Steel, we were there.”  Growled Vespa.  

“The Carte Blanche didn’t stand a chance out in open space.  Once we reached that destination, Rita sent out a ghost signal luring our pursuers off course.  At the same time intercepting the signal from Xnon about a prisoner transport.”

“Awwa shucks Mista Jet!  Was only some simple signal bouncin and tapin into the signals of the guys chasen us to make a cloakin’ signal that tricked their systems inta thinkin’ we were their prisoner transport!  Pretty Simple thing to sneak our team onto Xnon then!” Rita beamed.  “Really amazin, ya know?  The kind of information people just leave lying around in encrypted systems on wirelessly accessible servers?  It’s there for the takin’!” 

“Quite.” Buddy’s lips quirked up.  Nureyev was once again reminded that he needed to treat Rita, best to ask Juno about the subject later.  He stifled another cough into his sleeve as Buddy said “And that brings us just about full circle darlings.  It was an all hands on deck situation until we returned back to Xnon and- picked you two up.”  

“Yes.  They were not pleased by the turn of events.”

“Not pleased ?  Well that’s the first bit of good news we got from all this mess.”

“And we were able to get into some of the account numbers before the Bank reported the security breach!  So our systems should be good to go for quite a while!” Rita piped up.  

“Well that’s-good-” Nureyev closed his eyes, fatigue crashing down on him all at once.  

“ Good , isn’t the word I’d use for this Pete.  There are risks that come with any job, but a mission should not cost the life of any member of this family.” 

So she said.  So she kept saying.  What was more Nureyev wanted to believe her-  Wanted it to be true- 

Still the ghost of his debt weighed heavily on him. 

“It really bothers you doesn’t it?”

Nureyev blinked out of his musings.  They’d been laying in bed for a while now, Nureyev’s leg bandaged and iced down, Juno curled against his side.  Just keeping each other company.  After everything that had happened, it was- nice to have time to be with each other.  

“I’m sorry love I’m afraid I don’t follow-”

“The nameless thief ended up making a mistake.” 

“I make plenty of mistakes Juno.”

Juno rolled over onto Nureyev’s chest, resting his chin on folded arms so that they were face to face.  “You know that’s not what I meant.” puffs of peppermint breath tickled his cheeks.  The laugh that bubbled in his chest turned into a cough, dislodging the Detective from his perch; relegating the lady to the crook of his arm instead.  Nureyev curled around him as he coughed, waiting for the urge to die down.

“Oh, sorry love.” Nureyev huffed, coming back to himself.  

“Nu-ah, not a thing to apologize for 'Reyev.” he smiled softly, “But- it’s not often that something like this happens-” 

Nureyev hummed in agreement.  A significant part of him was still nervous that Vespa or another member of the crew would lord this bit of information over his head-  

“Suppose not.”  He tightened his hold on Juno.  Breathing in his scent and reveling in his warmth.  “The fact so little was made of the affair just- makes me a tad apprehensive I suppose.” 

Juno’s arm snaked up and over his chest, a calloused thumb brushing over his collarbone.

“You know- they have our backs, right?” 

He remained silent.  Juno sighed.  

“Look, I wouldn't have asked Rita to do this with me if I didn’t think these people actually- cared.  That Buddy cared.” 

“They trust you, Juno.  They tolerate me.”

“No, they tolerate Ransom.” he rolled up onto his elbow, so that he was once again able to make eye contact.  “They don’t even know you.”  

“Therein lies the problem.” 

“Pretty much.” Nureyev must have been making a face because Juno plowed on quickly “Look, I know privacy is important to you.  And, I may not get your reasons, but I respect that you have them.” his palm pressed flat to Nureyev’s sternum, a light comforting thing just over the ghost Lichtenberg scars left by their time in the tomb.  “But when you were out- god you should have seen how often Rita and Buddy and Jet came in to check on you.  Think they were almost as worried as I was.” 

Somehow Nureyev doubted it.  “Sorry for the bother-” 

“Nugh-uh, you needed the rest.  Besides, can’t help but worry when you care.  Kind of comes with the territory.” he settled in again, fingers once more nestled into the crook of Nureyev’s neck.  Silence settled over the pair again.  The thief gently running his fingers up and down the small of Juno’s back.  Over and over til their limbs became heavy and sleep seemed to be bearing down upon them “‘Reyev?” 

“Hmmm?” 

“Thanks- for having my back.” 

There was an unexpected sting in his eyes, “And you, mine-” 

“Heh- always.” 

It didn’t take Juno long to drop off after that.  But not Nureyev.

He was tired, exhausted even, but his mind refused to turn off.  He kept thinking about the crew- this- family.

As things stood, it was hard to trust them for more than the job.  But when it came to his life- well.  He was holding the person that he trusted with that.  

He planned to do so for as long as he was allowed.