Chapter Text
The bus doors fold shut with a hydraulic hiss. Johnny barely reacts. He drops into the seat by the window, studying his signature aviator sunglasses in his hand. The only tether left to the real Johnny Silverhand.
Steve is trying to chase the bus down, waving the guitar Johnny purchased but never intended to take with him. Steve is trying to tell him he forgot it. But he didn’t.
He’ll never forget anything again.
Outside, Night City slides past in ugly streaks and pillars of concrete buildings. He’s already pretending he was never part of it. The city has changed so much, but still remains the same in so many ways.
His fingers curl instinctively toward his chest.
The bullet pendant isn’t there.
He left it at the grave. V’s grave.
No speeches. No drama. Just a holographic message: “V. Dreamer.”
He had to leave the pendant behind. It resembled the guilt, the unrelenting turmoil Johnny had felt since leaving Mikoshi.
He’ll never forget V and the sacrifice he made - how could he? He was wearing his goddamn face.
Johnny had stood there longer than he meant to before finally letting the pendant fall from his hand. He still didn’t know if that was for V… or for himself.
His holo vibrates for the fiftieth time. He’s lost count.
Incoming call.
Panam.
He doesn’t answer.
It buzzes again.
And again.
Texts stack up, unread. Missed calls pile on top of each other. Johnny keeps his eyes on the window as the bus pulls onto the highway.
Then the screen switches.
New video message.
Johnny exhales and opens it.
Panam’s face fills the display immediately, she looks like she is sitting beside a campfire. No pretense. Just raw fury. Eyes blazing, jaw clenched so hard it trembles.
“Really? You’re just gonna avoid me? Of course you would, you fucking coward,” she snaps. “Here’s a bit of advice for you, Johnny. Enjoy your new lease on life. Cause it’s not gonna last long. I’m serious.”
She’s not even there in person, and still her words make him flinch. Feelings that don’t belong to him begin to surface, and his guilt thickens.
He mourns a future that never was, that never could be. A future only meant for V.
He continues to watch her message, feeling like he deserves her anger.
“Believe me when I say I’m gonna find you, you fucking psychopath,” she doesn’t stutter. “Wherever you’re hiding. And when I do, I’m gonna rip V out of your head. Don’t ask me how, but so far I’m counting on sheer will.”
Johnny doesn’t move. Doesn’t blink.
“You know what you are, Johnny? A parasite, a fucking tapeworm! You hear me?!” she continues. “Enjoy the little time you have left.” She spits, then ends the message.
The screen goes dark.
Johnny lets his arm drop, the holo resting limply against his thigh. Around him, the bus hums with ordinary life - someone coughing, someone dozing, someone laughing.
Parasite. Tapeworm. He accepts it.
The guilt settles deep in his chest, heavy and familiar. It’s been there since Mikoshi. Since the moment he woke up and realised V truly disappeared beyond the Black Wall.
He misses him.
The thought comes sharp and unguarded. Misses the way V stood his ground. Misses the stupid confidence, the stubborn hope. Misses the way he treated Johnny like more than a ghost or a mistake.
Like a brother.
Johnny thinks about the life V will never get.
Panam at his side, loud and fierce, loyal to the bone.
A seat at the Afterlife as Night City’s newest living legend.
All gone.
Because when Alt opened the way past the Blackwall, V followed her into cyberspace and left Johnny behind with his body, his memories, and his unfinished life.
Johnny presses his forehead to the cold glass of the window.
The holo vibrates again.
Another missed call.
Johnny doesn’t answer.
Panam isn’t giving up.
She calls him again.
He just watches Night City shrink in the distance.
-*-
2 months later
The rain hits the roof of the dive bar in a steady rhythm. He had landed somewhere in Oregon. Outside smelled like pine. Inside, the air is thick with cigarette smoke. A kind of place where you came to drink your sorrows away, where nobody asks questions and everybody forgets your name by the time you leave.
He sat in a booth in the far corner. A drink in front of him he hasn’t touched. He just stared at it.
Panam drops into the booth opposite him without a word. She keeps her bolero on, her wet hair plastered to her face.
She looks wrecked, in agony. Struck with grief that shows no end. Dark circles around her eyes like she hasn’t slept in months. Resembling a long and relentless journey to get to this point.
Her hand slides under the table. The cold steel of her gun is pointed at his crotch before he even realises it. He hears her click the safety off, the sound echoes and bounces off the walls.
“I finally found you.” she threatens. Her voice is low and strained.
Johnny doesn’t flinch. Deep down he knew this day was coming.
“You’ve got the wrong guy.” He responds, but he is looking in the reflection of his aviator glasses that were on the table before him. He only sees V’s face looking back at him. It was a bad lie, and they both knew it.
Panam’s eyes seer with anger. “Wrong guy? Wrong guy?! Don’t make me laugh. I’ve been following the trail you left since Night City. Every bar, every cheap motel, every dead-end highway. And now I find you here, hiding in a puddle of your own cowardice and piss.”
He lifts one hand, slowly, like a man trying not to start a fight he already lost. “Panam… I..-“
Her hands shake that are holding the gun under the table. “Shut up!”
Johnny swallows. Something flickers in his eyes - fear? Respect? Guilt? Maybe all three.
Outside, the rain drums harder. The world feels like it’s holding its breath. Waiting for her next move.
Johnny doesn’t move. Doesn’t try to run. He just leans back, places one leg up on the table. The taste of whiskey and regret heavy on his tongue. “I’m not who I used to be.” he mutters.
Panam’s hand tightens on the trigger. “Tell me one reason I shouldn’t shoot right now.”
“I’m not gonna fuck this up,” he says quietly. “V gave me a second chance… and I respect him, his body, his choice. I won’t waste it. Not now. Not ever.”
She hisses, voice low, dangerous, eyes burning through him. “Respect him? Then why the fuck are you in his body? He’d still be here, with me, if you hadn’t taken it!”
Johnny exhales, voice quiet, almost fragile. “Panam… I didn’t have a choice. Mikoshi… V… he had maybe six months if he came back. My biochip had already taken over too much. There was no… leaving him whole.”
Panam’s jaw tightens, the gun trembling slightly in her grip. “Don’t you dare,” she spits, “You took him from me. You live in his face, his body, and you dare tell me you respect him?”
“You don’t want to believe it, I get that.” His shoulders sagged, defeat resonating strongly through his composure. “But it’s the truth, whether you like it or not.” He sighs.
Panam’s breathing quickens. She tightens her grip on the gun, a single tear or rainwater running down her cheek. “You’re living his life, Johnny. Maybe I should just..-”
The words die on her tongue as her eyes lock with his. The face staring back at her is V’s. And she realises she can’t do it. She can’t bring herself to pull the trigger. Her fury falters. Melancholy settles instead.
She thought about this moment for months, but she can’t do it. Not with V staring back at her.
Abruptly, she pushes back from the table, without a word, she stalks toward the door leading to the bar’s balcony. Rain lashes through the open doorway, soaking her completely. Regardless, she steps outside, standing against the railing, inconsolable, sobs wracked her entire frame.
Johnny sits there silent for a long moment, feeling the weight of her absence, the distance she’s put between them. He asks himself what would V do, or what would V want him to do.
Did V ever consider this would happen when he breached the Black Wall? Did he think about Panam and the people he left behind?
Eventually, he gets up and follows her outside. Rain is pelting against his coat. It doesn’t slow, it’s completely drenched them both.
Johnny never really mastered empathy for the badly beaten and down trotted. Something he was slowly learning from V.
But he tries, anyways, for V’s sake. For Panam’s sake. It’s the least he owes her.
“Panam… hey…” he places an awkward hand on her shoulder, she immediately shrugs him off.
She doesn’t respond. He feels another rush of guilt hit him solid in his chest.
“I’m sorry,” Johnny says, clumsy with the words. “I didn’t ask for this… none of it. And V… never wanted to… hurt you.”
She laughs bitterly, a sound that shakes his core. “Hurt me? You’re walking around in his skin, Johnny. You’re him, and I didn’t even get a heads up..” her arms hugged herself, trying to comfort herself.
He swallows. “I know. And I’ll carry that… forever. Trust me that if he had another choice, he would have chosen you.” Johnny shrugs, his eyes now focusing on the ground. “But that’s the thing, he didn’t have a choice. Wrong city, wrong people.”
A pause. She leans over the balcony’s railing, staring down into the rain, her body is shaking.
After a long and thick silence, “I… I… loved him… I still love him. And I never got to say it. I… never...” She says more to herself than to him.
The words hit him harder than the rain. He wants to say something, anything but the words are stuck in his throat.
Johnny only nods back, letting her grief have the space it needs. The rain mixes with her tears she’s no longer fighting to hold back. He’s feeling awkward but he stays.
She steps back, wiping her face hard, trying to pull herself together. She’s holding herself together by force alone.
Johnny doesn’t look at her. Feeling like every time he does, it’s like reopening a wound neither of them knows how to close.
Minutes pass.
Then Panam lets out a bitter laugh, staring at the night. “You know what really fucks me up?”
Johnny exhales but he’s attentive.
“It should’ve been you,” she snaps, turning on him suddenly. Her eyes are blazing again, wet and furious. “You’re the one who deserved to rot in Mikoshi. Not him. He had a life. People. A future.”
Each word is a knife. Johnny doesn’t dodge a single one.
“You think I don’t know that?” he says quietly.
Another agonising silence settles between them.
“I never told him,” she whispers. “I kept waiting. Thought I was protecting myself.” Her breath stutters. “I was just being a coward.”
Johnny’s throat tightens.
“I could..-” he starts, then stops himself. Shakes his head. “Forget it.”
Panam scoffs. “What. Gonna tell me it’ll be okay?”
“No,” Johnny says. “I was gonna offer you something stupid.”
She turns back slowly, suspicious.
He hesitates, then forces himself to say it. “I could pretend to be him. For a bit.”
Her expression hardens instantly. “You’re sick,” she says flatly. “That’s fucking sick.”
Johnny agrees. “I know.”
She laughs sharply, tears spilling over again. “You think wearing his face isn’t bad enough? Now you wanna wear his voice too? His feelings?” Her hands clench into fists. “You really are a piece of shit.”
Johnny takes it on the chin, knowing he deserved that for even suggesting it.
She stares at him, breathing hard, anger and grief warring in her chest.
Suddenly she folds forward, elbows on her knees, hands covering her face as the sobs finally rip free loud, broken, uncontrollable.
Johnny doesn’t move. Doesn’t reach for her. Just stands there, taking it, guilt flooding him again as flashes of V and Panam together slam into him without mercy; laughing, arguing, touching and yearning for each other.
But these are memories he has no right to.
“I just need to say it,” Panam cries. “I need him to hear it. And he’s gone.”
Johnny closes his eyes. “I know.”
She drags in a shaky breath, wipes her face angrily. “If you do this,” she says, voice shaking with fury and fear, “you don’t get anything from it. No comfort. No absolution. You don’t touch me unless I say. And the second I say stop, it’s over.”
“Understood.” Johnny says immediately.
She hesitates again. Long enough that he thinks she’s going to back out.
Then, barely audible “…Okay.”
Johnny doesn’t move right away. When he does, it’s subtle. He lets the borrowed memories guide him; not copying, not mocking. Just remembering.
“Panam,” he says softly.
She inhales sharply, like the sound punched her straight in the ribs.
She doesn’t look at him at first.
When she finally does, tears spill freely again, unguarded now.
“I love you,” she says, voice wrecked and heavy. “I love you and I was scared and I thought I had more time.”
She leans in slowly, hesitantly, like she’s afraid the illusion will shatter if she moves too fast. Her forehead presses against his.
“I wanted a life with you,” she whispers. “Wanted to run away from Night City with you. I miss you so much.” Her lips brush his but she’s trembling, unsure how fully she can commit to the illusion.
Johnny realises this isn’t desire. It’s grief.
A goodbye she never got to say.
Johnny’s chest aches as he meets her kiss carefully, gently, the way V did. It’s precious and devastating at the same time.
When she pulls back, she’s crying hard now, fingers clutching his coat.
“I love you,” she sobs. “I always will, and I’ll remember. Always.”
Johnny’s voice is rough when he answers. “He loved you too.”
That’s when she finally breaks collapsing forward, forehead against his chest, crying like she’s been holding it in for months.
They stay like that for a long time.
Eventually Panam pulls back. Her hands hesitate at his coat, then fall away like they don’t belong there anymore. She wipes her face hard, breathing uneven.
Then she turns and walks away.
Johnny doesn’t follow.
If she needs him to be the villain in her world so V can remain untouched in her memories, he accepts it.
He’s been worse for a lot less.