Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Amirah can't help the grin that spreads over her face as she re-reads the letter in her hand again. She's only read it perhaps two dozen times, so it's still novel enough to fill her heart with warmth every time she reads the words.

My darling Amirah—

The door flies open and Amirah shoves the letter behind her, between the small of her back and the wicker of her chair. Heidi wouldn't open the door like that, so she desperately hopes it's Pablo.

It’s not.

"Dear sister! What a fine day, isn't it?"

Amirah can feel the heat in her face refusing to fade. "Arvio, what brings you here?"

He looks at her, at her cheeks, at the hand that's still behind her. "What do you have there?" he asks excitedly. "A secret?"

"It's a letter, and it's private." She folds it carefully so he won't see so much as a word of the handwriting. As much as she loves and supports Arvio, he can be a bit... traditional. She's not quite ready to share this part of her with him.

Thankfully, he doesn't reach for it when she slips it under the ledger next to her. He does watch her intently, though, and his eyes light up as she tries to hide the paper. "That paper looks like Lucy's make. Oh, my dear, you're in intimate correspondence with someone in town!" He gasps, making absolutely no effort to hide his excitement. "Oh, do tell me who it is!"

"Arvio, please."

"Oh, no matter. I shall watch your body language and I shall guess. I love this game!" He pulls up a chair, sits directly in front of her, and starts off with, "The sheriff."

Amirah isn't going to dignify his absurdity with a response. If he thinks he can guess her pen-pal just from her facial expressions, fine. She schools her features into a mask as refined and unchanging as the porcelain she so loves to work with.

"Perhaps, yes. Quite strong. Steady employment, if a bit dangerous. Hm. No, I suppose it isn't him." He leans in a bit and tries again. "Or perhaps you've caught the eye of a certain innkeeper. Yes, Owen's poured his heart out to you in a well-versed missive. A worthy suitor, certainly. Worldly, wealthy, and a decent storyteller. You certainly won't lack for entertainment."

Firing porcelain is a tricky process, as Amirah well knows. Heat it too high or too quickly, and the delicate structure may crack, or even shatter. Arvio, however, has no clue how to make porcelain. He can barely cook soup without disaster.

"Ah! It is Owen."

"It's not Owen!" she snaps. So much for thinking she was going to have his support. Her mind drifts briefly to the letter hidden next to her. "You'll never guess, so you may as well be on your way."

Arvio jolts upright. "Never! If I'll never guess, then it must be... Ah! Burgess!"

"Arvio."

"Yes, you're right. Of course not. Silly me." He strokes his chin as if massaging the skin might make a beard come in any faster. He narrows his eyes as he studies her, muttering, "Too obvious. Too young. Too old. Too weird." Suddenly, he claps his hands. "Aha! I've got it! Your correspondent is our senior builder!"

He's too close to the truth, and the porcelain mask she's put on explodes. She collects the pieces as quickly as she can, but it's much too late.

"It is Lucy!" he crows, lunging toward her as if he might start an argument.

Amirah coughs. "No! It's not the builder. I mean, she's attractive, but—"

He relaxes once more, sighing wistfully. "Oh, she is, isn't she? She is divine. I daresay the Light made her especially for our fair town, and I could not be more pleased that she's graced us with her continued presence."

Amirah sighs and lets herself sink a little further into her chair as he chatters about whatever comes to mind. She's all too familiar with this verbose mood of Arvio's, so she simply waits for him to work himself into enough of a tizzy to breeze back out from whence he came.

She does wish he could be a bit less like Mum and Dad, with their intense focus on the net worth of her potential partner. Her shop is doing well, though the new kiln set her back and she still hasn't mastered the techniques it requires. In six months or a year, she thinks, she'll have enough squirreled away, and enough of an income stream, to finally bring them out of the hardscrabble life of Barnarock to Sandrock. There's no need for her to find some well-to-do gentleman, because she's doing well enough for herself on her own.

"I've got it!" Arvio crows, jumping up out of the chair and snapping Amirah out of her own thoughts. "We'll have a party! No! A dance! No, a masquerade! Oh, it will be the event of the year, my dear sister! Masks and costumes galore. We'll invite everyone in town, and we'll dance all through the night!" He gasps and claps his hands in front of him giddily. "I can just see it!"

Amirah hopes this idea dies in its cradle like so many of its kin. As much as she'd love to put together a masquerade, masquerades mean masks, and masks mean porcelain, and she's already working herself half to death with all the orders stacking up in her queue.

"Arvio, darling—"

"Oh! If it's to be a town event, we'll have to speak to the mayor. And I have just the thing to say for it! Darling, dearest sister of mine, you are an angel and a muse." He kisses both of her cheeks and flies out the door.

"Oh, joy." She slumps further into her chair, and her attention falls on the ledger. She'd almost forgotten about the letter. Well, she ought to get back to work on her orders, but she has time for one more read first.

My darling Amirah—

You are the sun through a window in the morning. You're a warm cup of tea on a cold winter eve. You are no desert rose as I've heard you described before—you're the delicately-petaled blossom of an Ataran cherryplum tree.

If you haven't guessed already, blossom, I love you.

I want to shout you from the rooftops. I want to whisper you to every grain of sand in the desert. I want to sing you into the canyon until you echo into every corner of the world.

I mean every word, but make no mistake. I cherish you as my dearest friend. Should I have misjudged the smiles that fill my heart with glee, you have only to tell me, and I'll cast them all to the wind, to the corners of the world, never to be seen or heard again. Your friendship means more to me even than the indescribable ecstasy of loving you.

Yours always, in whatever way you'll have me,

Heidi

Logan stops in front of the salon, adjusting his grip on the crate of clothes he's taking to Vivi's. "I'm trustin' you to come straight to Grandma Vivi's if Pablo's done with ya 'fore I git back."

"I know," Andy groans. He's a good kid, but damn if he don't wander off more often than Logan's comfortable with. He kicks at the air, then runs up the stairs and flies through Pablo's front door. Logan winces at Andy's rough treatment of the building. He'll have to work on that, too.

For now, he's got business down the street at Vivi's. The bells chime pleasantly when he gets the door open. Vivi's working on a dressform at the foot of the stairs, straight pins held between her lips. She finishes up with impressive swiftness, and then turns to him with her customary matronly smile.

"My, my, I thought you'd run your trousers to threads before I saw you in my shop again, honey."

Logan winces. He's paid her a visit once or twice with Andy, but he don't come by as often as he should. "I brought some ol' things I found in the house." He hasn't even looked down at the crate since he stepped outside. It was hard enough packing them all in; he ain't keen on dwelling on them any more. "I was hopin' you could get these someplace they'll do some good."

He sets the crate on the table so Vivi can paw through it. She pulls out a brown plaid shirt—linen, for long days in the desert—and holds it up. Logan turns away while she peruses the rest, but she only takes a few more seconds to say, "They'll do plenty of good in your closet."

Logan shakes his head. "Naw, they don't fit, and Pa never kept useless fripperies 'round, 'specially if somebody could make better use of 'em."

"Good quality clothes are hardly useless." Vivi steps up and holds the shirt against him, pushing the seams around a bit. "They could use a bit of fitting, but they're not that far off."

Howlett always impressed on him the value of being presentable. Logan's been trying to do the same with Andy, but getting that boy to sit still long enough for Vivi to measure him's about as easy as hugging a desert jumper. He's not sure how Pablo's going to manage to give him a haircut, but Pablo swore up, down, and sideways he could do it.

Logan shakes his head again. "I got my own things." A few changes of clothes, coupla pairs of socks, plus his boots and outer gear. Plenty. Probably too many, really, but he's gotta keep something clean on hand just in case.

"Logan," Vivi chides. "You take these and put 'em in your closet, son."

"I don't need 'em, Viv."

She takes a second shirt out of the box, a black one with a crisp collar, and holds it up to him. He remembers this one. Pa liked to wear it to the Blue Moon on summer nights when the band was playing, and to the festival for Day of Memories. It's lightly woven and breathes well in the harsh desert summer, but the simple cut and dark color give it a somber air that fits well with the season.

"Really," he insists. "Somebody's gotta need this junk more'n me."

Vivi shakes her head as she folds the shirt and puts it on the table with the other one. "Even if you don't use 'em now, keep 'em a while."

"Viv..."

"It won't go away, y'know. It gets better, with time, but it'll always be there." She gives him a soft smile. "And so will the good things."

Logan sighs and glances at the crate. Tailoring's cheaper than brand new clothes, but wearing his pa's old things don't quite sit right. Regardless, it still ain't something he can afford just yet. "I don't know, Viv. They ain't gonna fit me, and I ain't got time for fixin' 'em. Surely somebody—"

"That somebody is you," Vivi says in a tone that brooks no argument. "Tell you what. I'll take your measurements, and you can leave those things here. I'll get to 'em when I get to 'em, and you can have 'em back when I'm all done. Sound good?"

He promises himself he'll scare up a little something for her trouble before he takes them back, and nods. "I can live with that." He picks up the black shirt and carefully puts it back in the box. "Y'know, maybe I am gettin' the hang of it. I went through three boxes of my pa's old things, and I only got misty-eyed once or twice."

Vivi gives him a pat on the arm and a fond smile, and sets about measuring him for alterations. She's just measuring his trouser leg when the door flies open and Andy bursts in, setting the bell jangling loudly.

"Andy!" Logan snaps. "Ya gotta be gentler with the door, kid!"

Andy's eyes widen and he winces visibly. "Sorry, Grandma."

Patiently but firmly, Vivi says, "It's alright. You go on outside and try again."

Andy ducks back outside and, after a couple of seconds, carefully sneaks back in. Logan resists despair. Sneaking is, at least, nicer on the hardware than barreling in. When Vivi gives him an approving nod, he whips a mask out from behind his back and slaps it on his face. "Ain't it the coolest!" He shoves his hands in all directions, pointing fingers and muttering gun noises under his breath. "I'm gonna be the most awesomest outta everybody!"

He hasn't sat still long enough for Logan to get a good look at his haircut, but it looks more or less the same, if a little neater. The mask is the brilliant red of a summer sunset, though its brightness really doesn't compare to Andy's grin. Logan's vision blurs, and he turns away from Andy to give Vivi a clearer view of his shoulders.

Maybe Vivi's right. Maybe he does need a bit of his pa to keep with him. Maybe it'll give him the strength to keep on being a father to Andy. Might even make him a good one. Light knows the boy needs it.

"Ain'tcha gonna go get a mask?" Andy's asking him.

"A mask?"

"For the mask raid!"

"The... what?"

"The mask raid! I dunno what we're raidin' but it's gonna be awesome!"

"Masquerade," Logan corrects slowly. "It's a fancy party with dancin' and costumes." And a spectacular opportunity for him to make a fool of himself, seeing as he's years out of practice. Even if somebody actually wants to dance with an outlaw, he won't be able to promise their feet'll be safe.

Andy pulls off the mask and looks at it, wrinkling his nose. "Aw, but the mask is so cool."

The bell rings above the door again, and Jasmine skips in, a handful of envelopes under one arm. "Oh! Hi, Logan. Hi, Andy."

Andy hides the mask behind him. "Uh, hey... Jasmine. What's up?"

She gives him a funny look, then takes the stack of envelopes and flips through them. "Grandma, and Heidi, and Hugo," she says, handing Vivi three of them. She keeps flipping, and then hands one to Logan. "And yours, since you're here."

Logan arches an eyebrow. "What's this?" He slips his finger under the seal—stamped by City Hall—and pulls out a fancy-looking piece of thick paper inviting him to the City's fundraising masquerade ball, along with Andy, as guests of honor.

"What's it say?" Andy asks, grabbing Logan's arm as if to pull himself up with every excited bounce.

"Invitation to the masquerade," Logan says, shoving the paper back into the envelope.

"Aw yeah!" Andy does a little jig, then sobers up when he remembers Jasmine is still there. "Uh, I mean, yeah, cool."

"It's going to be pretty fun," she says. "My mom invited some people from Atara, and from Highwind. She says it'll be a good way for the City to raise money for repairs and stuff, plus we can show everyone we're not just a bunch of backwater bumble ants."

Logan winces. He loves this town, but the girl's got a point. Sandrock's got a reputation, and while it's changing now that the town's not being stifled by nefarious foreign agents, that's an uphill battle. As much as he hates the idea of a ball—all those people crammed into City Hall is just asking for trouble—he can't very well say he loves the town and not show up to support it. "Vivi, d'you think... you might see your way to fixin' me up somethin' fit for a social event? I'm sure there's... somethin' in this here box." He doesn't want to wear any of it, but if it's for the town, well, maybe there's enough of Howlett left in those old threads to carry him through the night.

The door chime is a welcome interruption to Heidi's work. She finishes sketching in a column and sets the pencil down, but before she can get up, a familiar face rises over the stairs like the sun. Like the sun through the clouds? Heidi gives up. Pretty poetry was always Pablo's thing, not hers. She prefers to express herself in lines and angles and colonnades.

"Are you terribly busy?" Amirah asks, perching like a bird on the edge of the desk.

Nah, definitely Pablo's thing. "Just workin' on the design for City Hall. Since we're fixin' the damage already, and we're movin' up in the world, Trudy wants to give the ol' place a sprucin' up."

"I see. It's lovely, what you've got there." She winces. "Sorry. Am I allowed to see, or is it a surprise?"

Heidi chuckles. "Not a surprise. It's..." She heaves a sigh. "It's fine, I guess. It just don't say Sandrock to me, y'know?"

Amirah slips delicately off the desk and circles to stand next to Heidi, humming thoughtfully. Heidi hears her say something pensive, but Amirah's delicate hands have stolen her attention as they run over the lines of Heidi's design. She has colorful stains on her skin, and a smear of chalky porcelain on her knuckles. Firing masks, Heidi guesses, though with how much work Amirah's had lately, it could be anything. Aside from tea with Pablo, they haven't hardly had a moment together since Arvio proposed his damn fool idea to Trudy.

Heidi tries to focus on what Amirah's saying instead of the way she smells like clay and flowers, but this is the longest she's had Amirah alone in almost three days.

"Aha!" Amirah says, waving a hand excitedly. "Suppose you moved this over here, and replaced the traditional columns with some rough poplar? I'm sure there are some trunks in the Bend that would be perfect for it."

Heidi closes one eye and peers at the design, then grins. "See, this is why I keep you around. I didn't even think about takin' inspiration from Mama Tree."

Amirah flushes a pretty shade of pink. "Sometimes it just takes a fresh pair of eyes."

"That was more than a fresh pair of eyes, blossom," Heidi tells her. When Amirah hesitates, Heidi chuckles. "Ain't no one else here."

Amirah's answering laugh is nervous. "I know." She turns away, and Heidi refrains from pulling her down into her lap. "Arvio's been insufferable about it. When he isn't going on about this masquerade that we're putting on, he's bombarding me with questions, trying to get me to tell him—well, anything."

Heidi does take Amirah's hand this time, thumb brushing over Amirah's clay-encrusted knuckles. It's telling how overworked Amirah is, if she's walking around town with her work still on her hands. "Take your time. I ain't goin' anywhere."

Amirah's dark hair falls over her face when she ducks her head, obscuring her expression. "I just don't know how to approach Arvio about it, let alone my parents. Especially now that he's dug in about the masquerade and everything."

Heidi wrinkles her nose. The masquerade's become the talk of the town, and Arvio's constantly flying into the barbershop with new ideas. "Light, ain't he just." She puts on a falsetto and says, "Oh, darlin' dearest lovely sister of mine! Let's have balloons filled with glitter!"

Amirah snorts. "Balloons, yes, glitter, no." She throws her hands up and sits up straighter, mocking in her own falsetto, "And for refreshments, a chocolate fountain! With Ataran cherryplums and Meidi strawberries!"

"Where are we gonna get that much chocolate?" Heidi laughs. "I'm sorry, blossom, I know he's your brother and all, but does that boy even think?"

"Oh, don't apologize. I love him, but I'm fully aware he's not the brightest." She clasps her hands over her heart and mimics a dazzled, dreamy Arvio. "Just think! Pablo's designs will dazzle the whole world! And Vivi's execution of them will draw in so much business for her!"

Heidi's eyes widen. "Don't tell me: he's expectin' them to do it on the cheap for the exposure."

"You know him all too well." Amirah grimaces. "It's a very good thing he's not in charge of the budget."

"Sure is. Otherwise we'd be importing—" She puts on the falsetto again, declaring with as much drama and absurdity as she can muster "—a full orchestra!"

"Oh, yes! For our intricately choreographed dance routines!" Amirah lets her hands drop, giggling.

"And we'll have it catered with the fanciest Vega 5 caviar!" Heidi jokes. "All the premium horse divorce from every corner of the world!"

Amirah falters, leaning toward Heidi with a frown. "Horse... divorce?" she asks. "I'm sorry, did you mean hors d'oeuvres?"

"Ain't that what I said?"

She claps a dainty hand over her mouth, shoulders trembling as she shakes her head.

"Sure it is! Premium horse doors!"

Amirah bursts into peals of laughter.

"What?" Heidi jokes. "I like me a good order horde! What's wrong with wantin' to snack on some ore divers?" Amirah doubles over, breathless and gasping, and Heidi reaches out to catch her. Amirah collapses into Heidi's lap, and the laughter catches, rippling through Heidi as she holds Amirah against her.

"Horse divorce!" Amirah gasps, still helpless with giggles. She takes a few breaths to steady herself, calming enough to wipe her eyes. A few more bubbles of laughter escape, and then she hums and leans against Heidi. It's good to hear her laugh like this, even if it's at the point of hysteria. She refuses to admit it, but between her usual work and the masquerade, Amirah's running herself ragged. "Do you think we'll pull it off?" she asks, suddenly serious. "Well, I suppose it's mostly you and Pablo. I haven't done much to help."

Heidi tucks Amirah's hair behind her ear, lingering over the silky texture of it. "We'll pull it off, don't you worry. You just leave it to yours truly." Truth be told, Heidi has the same concern. The event will be the talk of the town, and it's sure to stun the visitors Trudy's invited, but that may not be enough. If Arvio sees it as his grand moment, and he can't make it live up to his dreams, he's sure to go into a fit of hysterics—and the town really can't afford to scare off the kind of tourism and embassy that'll be represented.

Amirah settles into her with a sigh. "Just let me know what I can do to help."

"You're doin' just dandy as you are, blossom. Though... I've been meanin' to ask you somethin'." In truth, she's been meaning to ask ever since she heard about it, but they've both been busy, and she isn't sure Amirah will go for it. "Would you... go with me? To the masquerade."

To her surprise, Amirah nods.

"Really?"

"Of course. Why wouldn't I?"

Heidi frowns. "Blossom, don't take this the wrong way, but what do you mean why wouldn't I?"

Amirah flinches, and Heidi winces internally. "Heidi..."

"I ain't mad, 'Mirah. I'm just a little surprised. You don't want to tell Arvio about us, but you're okay with goin' to the dance together."

Heidi kicks herself then, because her beautiful blossom wilts. If Heidi's not careful, she'll blow away with Heidi's next breath. It's been hard enough lately to get her to land in one place, the way she's being pulled in every direction.

"Hey." Heidi tightens her arms where they rest around Amirah's waist. "I'm sorry. I want to go to the dance with you."

"I don't know if I'll be able to tell Arvio before then," Amirah says quietly. "Would you still go with me, as friends? If it came to it?"

Heidi tucks Amirah's hair behind her ear again. "Blossom, just 'cause you love me half as much as I love you, don't mean we ain't still friends. Best friends, even." She thinks about writing that letter to Amirah, how many drafts ended up in the trash, and how many wrinkles Pablo nearly wore into his nose with how often he grimaced at her writing.

Amirah pulls away, indignant. "Half as much? You love me half as much!"

"Agree to disagree." I'm willing to tell the world just how much I love you, she thinks in a fit of bitter pique. Trying desperately to keep the acid from her voice, she asks, "If we go together as friends, are you still gonna dance with me?"

Amirah smiles and leans her forehead against Heidi's. "I wouldn't miss it for the world."

A chime echoes through the shop, breaking Pablo out of the artistic fugue he’s in. He has no more appointments until this afternoon, and it's unusual to get a walk-in he's not expecting. To his surprise, he sees Logan, of all people, standing by the counter, watching him silently with his thumbs hooked through his belt loops.

Now, that's unexpected. He wonders what possible reason the monster hunter could have to wander into his domain. To his delight, when he walks over, he’s greeted with the answer to his unspoken question.

"Vivi told me to come see you ‘bout a... mask?" The man doesn’t sound certain. Pablo’s been sending everyone over to Amirah for measurements, but Vivi knows that. She’d only have sent him here if she had ulterior motives. Those aren’t terribly hard to guess. Logan’s been looking like a half-wild mess ever since he moved back into town a couple weeks ago.

To be honest, despite what Trudy said, Pablo hadn’t expected the man to attend the masquerade at all. Even before all the drama, Logan was the type to avoid a fancy shindig like the plague. Hoedowns and solstice dances were more his style. A real shame, since no amount of gear or dishevelment can hide that man’s looks. Pablo’s dreamed of dressing him up for years. Up, and down, and—well.

"Oh, sure," Pablo drawls appraisingly. Logan looks apprehensive, but Pablo continues, "We can do some work on that mop of yours as well." Logan frowns, turning away. Pablo rapidly adjusts the amount of teasing his new patron can tolerate. He’s been away a long time, with no one but Haru for company. Pablo's about to invite him to sit before he can get out the door, but Logan stops next to the entrance to hang up his hat and cloak. Well, at least he hasn’t become a complete savage out there in the desert. It is a bit odd that he's in full kit for a barbershop appointment, however impromptu it is, but to each his own, Pablo supposes. Logan settles stiffly into the nearest chair, shoulders tense.

Pablo grabs a nearby notepad and a thin measuring tape, dutifully taking the measurements he knows Amirah needs. She’ll be a little put out that Pablo didn’t send him over to her instead, but she won’t begrudge him the chance to tidy up one of the local heroes.

Logan flinches whenever Pablo’s bare hand touches his skin, though he doesn't say anything. Pablo stifles a frown; it won't do to scowl back at the poor fellow. The man’s skin is significantly less weathered than Pablo anticipated. That must be Haru’s doing. He really does make the best products, on par with the expensive imports from Walnut Groove. Pablo can't wait for him to return from school. Having access to that kind of talent locally will be a game changer.

A particularly strong jerk of the face draws Pablo's attention back to his client. The fact that Logan can’t quite handle even an innocuous touch is troubling. They’ve never been friends, but it wasn’t like they avoided one another. Howlett had prized being clean-cut despite his job—or perhaps because of it—and had done his best to convince his son of the same, so they were both among his regular clientele. This level of avoidance, plus Logan's attire—full armor for town errands is really overboard—points to larger problems beneath the surface. Everyone's been on edge since the occupation, but no one's quite this bad. The more Pablo reviews the evidence, the more obvious it is that Logan's still half-expecting to be driven right back off into the sand.

Pablo breaks the silence before it can become smothering. "Really making me think you want to be here," he says a little absently, taking another measurement along the man’s ear. This close, Pablo can practically smell the tension rolling off of him, layered thickly on top of the leather and faint tang of gunsmoke.

Logan sighs through his teeth. "I ain’t real keen on it, to be honest. But Andy’s excited." Pablo takes a mental note: like Howlett, Logan wants to be a good father. He'll have to save that tidbit for later.

Humming, Pablo carefully baits a trap. "Seems like everyone's excited. The kids, the parents, the couples... I’ve never seen Lucy this excited either." It's not entirely true—he hasn't seen her for more than two minutes at a time since he and Amirah and Heidi started planning the event—but that's really not the point.

Logan stills, pale eyes darting over to catch Pablo’s. "Oh? I ain’t noticed."

The trap snaps shut, and Pablo swings around behind Logan to hide his smile. Heidi swore up and down that Logan wasn't interested in the builder, but Pablo bet fifty gols otherwise. Just because he isn't as obvious as he was when he was younger doesn’t mean Pablo can't see the signs. Heidi's too hung up on the boy she grew up with to consider the man his experiences have made him.

Unfortunately, that's true of most of the town, and Logan’s new habits and change of outlook are throwing off their expectations. No matter that his intentions were good, and that he saved them all from a literal military occupation, almost four years away frayed those few friendships he had. They shouldn’t expect everything to go back to how it was, but it's clear they're looking for someone else in him. If anyone understands how hard that is, it's Pablo.

"Oh, yes, she was in here yesterday." Strictly true—she'd brought him some tea leaves. "She cleans up quite nicely. You could, too." He gives Logan’s hair a pointed and significant stare.

Logan sighs, relaxing slightly into the chair. The little furrow between his eyebrows tells Pablo he knows he’s been caught like a sandfish. "I still gotta be able to tie it back."

Pablo raises an eyebrow. "If I cut it short, that won't be a problem…"

Logan shakes his head. "Naw, can’t have it falling into my face on a hunt."

Pablo keeps his face carefully neutral. This is so much worse than he thought. Even Howlett had kept his hair shorter than this. That Logan isn’t willing to commit to anything shorter than its current chin length confirms he’s already thinking of the next time he might need to vanish for a while. Either Logan hasn't noticed how enthused the town is to have him back, or their insistence on keeping him in town has spooked him. Neither option is particularly pleasant.

Pablo inspects Logan’s hair, finally able to get a good look without the hat in the way. He winces as he takes it in, giving himself a quick mental pat on the back for turning Logan away from the mirror. Poor nutrition and the desert sun have done a number on it, and it doesn't appear to have had any special care from Haru. Or perhaps it had, but even the best products can’t stop everything. It looks like he hacked it off with a knife, maybe more than once—at least, where it doesn't look like it's been caught in briars.

He really is a mess, but Pablo isn't the best barber this side of the Eufaula for nothing. He can salvage plenty. He layers off the worst of the split ends, brushes some oil through for some much needed moisturizing, and cleans up around the neckline and Logan's ears. Now that the split ends are gone, and the lengths are evened up… Well, it’s not runway-ready but Logan at least looks civilized. Hobo chic has been replaced by mildly disreputable ruffian instead. Give it a couple of months to grow out, and Pablo'll get him back in here to fix that, too.

The disheveled look gives him an idea. He reorganizes the costume ideas that have been buzzing around his mind. Arvio wants to be both the flashy one and the mysterious one, of course, but since he's left all the details—and all the real work—to Pablo, he's also unwittingly left all the decisions to Pablo, too. The Light has neatly dropped the better choice for one right into his chair, and now he knows which to assign to Arvio. If he can match Logan's color palette to the builder’s… Pablo grins as he spins Logan around to face the mirror. "Will this do?"

Logan pushes his hand through his hair, nodding. "That guy looks alright. Wish I was that handsome." To Pablo's dismay, he doesn't leave it down, but instead ties it back into its unfortunately restrictive ponytail.

Well, Pablo supposes he can't have everything. This is a different man than the one who used to sit in his chair. For one, he's trying to get up without a shave. "Ah-ah. Not done yet."

Logan sits back down in the chair like he thinks it'll bite him. Pablo starts mixing the shaving cream, the brush quickly bringing it to a smooth lather. Logan looks on apprehensively, but doesn’t tell him to stop. He tenses again when Pablo begins brushing the cream on, until Pablo can see his knuckles white with pressure against the arm of the chair. He’s perfectly still, but his eyes are wild.

This won’t do at all.

Pablo finishes his preparations, then presses the handle of the razor into Logan’s palm. The man looks up, puzzled, but Pablo merely holds up the mirror for him. Tension drains out of his shoulders, and a look of sheer relief crosses his face. The ritual continues in silence, the only sound the rasp of the razor and the soft brush as Pablo applies more cream. When Logan hands the razor back and wipes his face with a towel, Pablo inspects the work and nods.

"Passable job. If monster hunting doesn't work out, you could be a barber."

Now that the patchy stubble is gone, Pablo can see the line of his jaw. It’s significantly sharper than he remembers, and he’s left to wonder again just how harsh the desert was on him. Is that why he doesn't shave? The difference is stark enough that it hardly takes a barber's eye to notice.

"Not sure I could keep up with the famous Pablo," Logan says. His tone is grave, but he's joking back, which is at least a glimmer of the Logan they used to know. "Anythin' else?"

"Alas, I'm afraid my skills have been exhausted, unless you've changed your mind about the short haircut."

"Not today." Logan stands to leave, and the gun at his hip catches Pablo’s eye, reminding him of Logan's new penchant for being fully geared up.

"You aren’t planning on bringing that to the masquerade, are you?" Pablo asks with a raised eyebrow.

"Sure am," Logan replies, not missing a beat.

Pablo lets his displeasure show just a little, in the wrinkle of his nose. "Any way I can convince you otherwise?"

"No." Logan’s eyes turn sharp as flint, his stance tense. Well, Pablo had to try at least a little. He isn't going to push the issue; he's finally gotten Logan into his shop and he's not about to run off a client who so desperately needs his services.

"Perhaps a shoulder holster, then?" When Logan's stare remains expressionless, Pablo elaborates carefully, "Howlett wore one sometimes, on more formal occasions."

Logan takes so long to answer, Pablo starts to think he'll refuse that, too. "I'll try it." He says it slowly, relenting only because Pablo isn't trying to take the firearm away entirely. Pablo waits until Logan's paid and gone to sigh in relief. It’s pretty obvious that the monster hunter won't go to the party at all if he can't take his security blanket. The fact that he thinks he needs it is another problem entirely, but not one that can be solved today.

Chapter Text

Logan’s been counting down the minutes until he can leave ever since he stepped through the doors into this… whatever this is. The hall’s clearly been rearranged for the night, the various displays and desks likely carted off into a backroom somewhere. A temporary stage has been laid out, and Hugo and Cooper are already tuning up. There are a few handfuls of balloons and streamers hung artfully from the upstairs railings, and strewn less artfully near the sideboard laden with the Blue Moon’s typical refreshments.

Given what everyone's been saying around town, he thought this would end up looking a bit like lipstick on a pig. Thankfully, they hadn't asked for his opinion, so it actually looks halfway decent. Still not something he'd call Sandrock, but the town's not the same as the one he left. For one, the town he left could have fit in City Hall with room to breathe.

The crowd shifts and changes like the desert sands, and as more people flow in, Logan shifts further away from the door, toward a corner they haven't yet filled. A cluster of brightly-colored figures pause between him and the main doors for a while; as they move away the door slides open just far enough to admit Fang. The doc’s wearing a raven-black mask and deep navy robes like the ones he usually wears. X's head twists in sharp jerks back and forth across the room, but the bird is silent for once. Fang squares his shoulders and takes a step forward just as a swath of bodies sweep along toward him. He jumps back, then shakes his head and ducks out.

Frankly, Logan’s jealous. If he could do the same, he’d already be back on patrol. Sandrock can keep its parties; he doesn’t need them. Unfortunately, Trudy made it very clear that he had to stay at least a couple of hours. He sets Andy up with a plate from the sideboard, making sure the boy doesn’t have too many sweets this early, before retiring to lean against the wall.

Standing here, surrounded by lights and decorations and people, he doesn’t feel like himself. It doesn’t help that half the clothes are Howlett’s—not that he had any other choice, with money as tight as it is—and the mask limits his peripheral vision just as he feared it would. At least Pablo let him wear a hat, though understandably not his normal one, and the new cape hides the holster he was allowed to bring. He just has to tell himself it could be worse, and get through the night.

About an hour in, Arvio makes his grand entrance, slamming the double doors open and posing between them. Unfortunately for him, few people seem to notice, or to share his opinion that this is a big deal. The music drowns out any words the shopkeeper says, and the doors have been rattling noisily all night from the wind that's picked up outside. Logan stifles a laugh when he sees Arvio look back behind him, as if he’s thinking about trying a second time.

Instead, the man flounces awkwardly towards the refreshment table, the silken feathers that adorn his mask dancing wildly every step of the way. The golden cloth of the costume is a bit much, in Logan’s opinion at least, but it sure does draw the eye. If the man had wanted to be the flashiest thing in the room, he’d certainly accomplished it.

He can’t believe Justice missed this shindig. He'd have swapped places with the sheriff in a heartbeat. Anyone dramatic enough to name themself Justice as soon as they hit deputy belongs at this party significantly more than he does. He’d take a long patrol on the outskirts any day—or night—over being trapped here.

At least while he’s here, he can keep a close eye on Andy. Light knows the kid'll get up to mischief without a watchful eye on him. Until now, he’s just played with Jasmine and Pebbles, running around as kids do, but it seems he’s finally coming back toward Logan.

"Tuckered out already?" Logan asks as the kid slumps against the wall beside him.

"Course not!" Andy replies, but he still doesn't move from where he is. He looks up at Logan, uncharacteristically quiet.

Logan crouches down beside him. "What is it?"

Andy fidgets anxiously, before blurting out, "HowdoIaskJasminetodance."

"Run that by me again?"

"How do I ask Jasmine to dance!" he hisses urgently.

Logan looks at the kid. Shit. He’s a little young for this, ain't he? Then again, if that’s what everyone else is doing, it makes sense. When did his pa teach him? Must have been about this age.

He catches sight of feathers bobbing out on the dance floor. Arvio is repeatedly trying to cut in on the builder’s dance, but so far it looks like Lucy hasn’t wanted to change partners. The man’s doggedly persistent, but Logan worries for his partner's toes. The man clearly hasn’t practiced dancing in the lifts he’d tried to subtly strap to his feet.

Andy follows his gaze. "Oh, that's how ya do it!"

Logan shoots that down immediately. "No. That’s exactly what not to do."

"Why not?" The kid looks up at him, frowning and petulant.

"You always gotta ask first. You can’t just force yourself on anyone."

If there was anything Howlett had been clear on when it came to behaving like a gentleman, it was courtesy. The man had always taken pride in being more than just a common ruffian with a gun, in being an actual pillar of the community. To that end, he’d always done his damnedest to make sure Sandrock lived up to some sort of standard, preventing them from becoming just a bunch of squabbling busybodies.

For once, thinking about his pa doesn’t cause that ache in his chest to flare. It's still there, of course, but it hurts more like an old wound in a storm than a fresh break. Maybe Vivi's onto something. If he just thinks about the good times, it ain't as bad.

"Then how do I?" The whine breaks him out of his thoughts. He can’t help but smile as Andy pouts.

"Well, first ya gotta know how to dance." He stands, taking Andy’s hands in his own. "Here, jus’ step back and forth with me." It’s a simple two-step, but that’s what he’d first learned as well. Andy seems to get a hold of it pretty quickly, but just before he can let go a voice sounds behind him.

"I didn’t know you could dance."

He turns to find the builder watching him with a smile as he shows his son the simple step. "My pa and Miss Vivi made sure I learnt somethin' a mite fancy. They wanted me to be something other than a savage when I grew up." Some amusement colors his tone, but he shrugs at her. "You can be the judge of how that went."

Andy interrupts the budding conversation with a tug on Logan's sleeve. "Logan! How d'ya ask a girl to dance?"

Logan arches an eyebrow. "You just gotta ask real politely. Use them manners I know are knockin' 'round in there somewhere."

Andy nods and turns to Lucy, puffing out his chest. "Lucy, please may I—can you—aw, dangit! Can you dance with me?" He’s looking up at the builder with big eyes. "I wanna practice ‘fore I ask Jasmine."

Lucy smiles fondly at Andy. "Alright, let's get you some practice then. Gotta make sure you’re up to snuff for Jaz, right?"

"Right!"

Logan relaxes against the wall, watching as the two move about the floor. Arvio tries, again, to cut in, but Andy doesn’t let him. Logan rolls his eyes. Clearly, the man thinks it’s more dramatic to cut in than to ask.

The dance floor is fairly busy. Owen and Jane are spinning about the floor like nobody else exists. Logan’s never seen him so taken with someone, though a sinking feeling reminds him he has missed almost four years of his friends' lives. Maybe Owen’s changed. Maybe that doesn’t even mean anything to him.

Owen's not the only one, of course. Jasmine's half-grown, Burgess is a damn minister, and Sandrock's got not one, but two builders in town. He passes people every day that he's never talked to, people he ain't sure live in town or are just here for a visit. He supposes they're there to try to fill the gaps left by people Logan knew. People like Email, and Theodore. The town's changed and grown; he's changed, too.

He tears his thoughts from that downward spiral. If he wants to have any chance of fitting back into town, even if he can’t quite make himself the same shape as the hole he left, he’ll need to stop that.

He keeps scanning across the room, taking in a thousand little details, just like he would on a hunt. There’s more tourists here than he’d have expected, brightly colored bunches flocking together like birds. None have so much as a knife between them, just tittering at the edges of the hall. A fair few are staring at him, but that ain’t nothing new.

Pablo is blatantly moping in the corner, staring out across the crowd as if any minute someone new will appear. His shoulders are slumped in an exaggerated posture of defeat. Nearby, Jasmine motions animatedly to Trudy while they watch Andy out on the dance floor.

A sudden movement catches his attention: a red-faced Jensen has stumbled into Owen. The shorter man bounces off, knocked to the ground by the innkeeper's bulk. The conductor has had, perhaps, a bit too much punch.

He lets his eyes track back across the floor. In a darkened corner near the back, two tourists have started an intense argument. Neither are armed, so he lets his gaze wander.

Andy is still energetically dancing with Lucy, his face alight with delight. Again, Arvio tries to cut in, but Andy doesn’t do much more than stick his tongue out at the man. The shopkeeper huffs, almost tripping as he storms off dramatically.

Unsuur steps forward to help an upset Jensen to his feet, getting the older man to sling his arm across his shoulders. Heidi and Amirah are walking over to talk to Pablo, but even from here it's plain that he's in a sour mood.

Absently, he counts the exits—doors clogged by bodies, windows obscured by drapes—before returning to surveying the scene before him. The deputy is helping Jensen out the door, taking the older man home before he makes a fool of himself. Or at least, makes more of a fool of himself than he already did. Logan ain’t about to let a drop of that drink touch his lips, not in front of so many strangers.

One of the delegates near the refreshment table is pointing him out to another portly gentleman. Both are swaying slightly, entertained and inebriated. He keeps them in the corner of his eye, in case that changes. Heidi’s walking with a purpose toward the dance floor.

When the song ends, Andy skips off to talk to Jasmine. Lucy smiles back at Logan, and he tips his hat to her for dancing with Andy. She ambles back in his direction until Heidi catches her by the arm and says something to her, the look of a secret plain on her face.

Grace wanders over from the depths of the party, breaching his bubble of solitude. So far, any tourist that has taken a look at him has scurried off before getting too close. "I see you’re doing a lot of socializing over here."

Logan sighs. "I already told Trudy I’m jus’ here for Andy. I’m not a prop for tourists to dance with or photograph." He watches the delegates move from the refreshment table back toward a long, cushioned bench. The portly gentleman waves a hand as he sits, looking a mite peaked.

"How about a dance with a friend, then?"

Pablo's got a look of resignation etched into him that Logan's not familiar with as he and Lucy amble back out onto the floor. He's saying something to her, very clearly in a dour mood; her expression is soft and sympathetic as they start to move with the other dancers. "Sorry. Ain’t feelin’ it tonight."

Grace doesn’t have the expectations the rest of the town does. She doesn’t make him feel like he’s constantly trying to squeeze inside the ill-fitting skin of his past self, the happy-go-lucky hunter with a quick temper. He doesn’t know how to be that man any more. These past few years have changed him, burdened him with guilt on his shoulders and blood on his hands.

But if he steps onto that floor, that’s all anyone will want to see. A dance with Grace ain't worth watching the town’s heart break as they realize, yet again, that he’s a different man. Nor is it worth his own pain as he watches them forget that fact, only to be shocked again the next time he has to do something ugly.

Grace turns away from him, staring out into the dance floor. He follows her gaze to the center of the floor where Arvio's cut in on Pablo, finally getting himself that dance he wanted. Lucy doesn’t look terribly happy, though. She looks like she’s trying to pull as far away as possible as Arvio yanks her around the floor. And if he ain’t mistaken, that's more a grimace than a smile…

He doesn’t even realize he’s taken a step forward until Grace steps out in front of him.

"Whoa there, yakboy. You really going out there without a partner?" she asks teasingly. "Do you even know how to do a Lucien waltz?"

He gives her a deadpan stare before briefly sweeping his hat over his heart and extending his other hand. "Ma’am, may I have this dance?"

She takes his hand, replying in a similar deadpan, "What a gentleman."

As they head out to the floor she turns. "Did you just ma’am me?" she asks in a harsh whisper. "How old do you think I am?!"

He chuckles as he pulls her into the starting position for the dance. That’s a game he’d learned long ago not to play. Besides, with her job, who could really say? "Old enough for a proper send-off?"

Grace just rolls her eyes at him. She's endured more than enough of his over-the-top bravado while he played up being a bandit. To Andy’s immense displeasure, Grace is leaving for Atara in the morning, and their little gang will be down to just the two of them and Lucy.

It's been years since he cut a rug like this, but like throwing a knife, it's something his body remembers for him. He lets his attention pass over the rest of the room as his feet take them smoothly across the floor. The two arguing tourists in the back have moved on to a rather intimate embrace, almost completely hidden by the shadows clinging to the corner.

"I didn't expect you to actually know any formal dances," Grace comments quietly, pulling his attention back.

“Formal dancin’? You sayin’ this ain’t jus’ a barnyard hoedown?” he says with a grin, deliberately thickening his accent to the point of absurdity. Her glare is worth the pain of her pointed shoe stomped on his foot.

Logan maneuvers them carefully through the swirling dancers. As they approach Arvio and Lucy, Logan hears part of the absolute river of nonsense pouring out of the man's mouth. He announces, "Oh, Mysterious Beauty, would that I could steal you away from beneath the watchful eyes of this town!"

Lucy catches his eye as soon as she can see him around Arvio's mess of gray feathers. Beneath her polished blue porcelain mask, she's wearing a desperate look he’s only seen on trapped animals, namely the ones considering gnawing off a limb to escape.

Around them, the rest of the town seems content to just watch the show, unwilling to do anything about it. Maybe they think it's all theatrics. Maybe it is. Grace raises an eyebrow at him. He takes a breath.

And steps up.

"Mind if I cut in?" Logan offers his hand, and Lucy seizes it like the lifeline it is. Grace seamlessly transitions to dancing with Arvio, even as he squawks indignantly. Logan pulls them away effortlessly, navigating them to the other side of the dance floor with surprising skill.

Lucy smiles weakly. "Thanks for the rescue."

Logan snorts. "Looked like you were gettin' mighty uncomfortable out there. Man’s gotta know when a girl ain’t interested." He flashes a self-deprecating smile. "Too bad the sheriff ain't here, he'd put a stop to this. Guess you'll have to settle for an outlaw."

It’s the first time she’s ever seen him actually smile, at least without a mask in the way. It’s like the sun rising over the desert, a golden light changing everything. No one would blame her for going a little weak in the knees. That grin is as illegal as he used to be.

"Former outlaw," she manages, mouth dry.

His smile softens. "Right, right. Former outlaw."

She drifts closer to him, far closer than she’d been with Arvio, so that she can hear him better. The party's gotten noisier, and unlike Arvio, she's actually interested in what he has to say.

Beside them, Rocky twirls Krystal around, a grin on his face as she laughs in delight. Pebbles is off on the sideline with Trudy, clapping excitedly as his parents spin about the dance floor in a simple but elegant foxtrot. For all his brutish strength, Rocky's not bad on his feet.

"We could do that, too, if ya like," Logan offers, following her gaze. There’s still the hint of a smile on his lips. When she nods, he pulls her in closer, explaining a couple different steps in a low rumble. It doesn’t take her long to understand at least the basics as he leads her through a few quick examples, though it helps that he is exceptionally patient with her stumbling.

The next song starts slowly, Hugo building up an underlying melody that Cooper latches onto and weaves seamlessly around. Logan catches her eye, inclining his head in silent question. She tightens her grip on his hand, setting the other gingerly on his shoulder, and they start to move.

His hands are warm and certain against her: one firmly gripping her own, and one high on her back, the pressure changing as he prompts when and where to move. Occasionally his booted feet nudge hers slightly, just enough to correct her steps.

Arvio appears in the corner of her eye, question already poised on his lips, but Logan sweeps her away with a flourish, spinning her around as they traverse the floor. A slight push against her hand prompts her to roll out away from him, the skirt of her aquamarine dress flaring as the shimmering fabric catches the light. A light tug brings her spinning back until she’s pressed up against him, his arm pinning her against his broad chest.

“Doin’ alright?” he whispers in her ear as they still for a beat. His eyes gleam as he takes in her bright smile. The room could catch fire around them and she wouldn’t notice, too caught up in the moment. He spins her around under his arm, resetting their position so that his hand is snug against the small of her back. The dark leather collar of his cape is soft beneath her fingers.

Her cheeks hurt from smiling. She can't remember the last time she’d had so much fun. As the song builds to a crescendo, he dips her almost to the floor, knocking a comb askew as her hair brushes against the wooden floorboards.

All too soon, the song ends, leaving her out of breath and pressed tightly up against him. His pale eyes shine as he meets her stare, an unvoiced question hanging gossamer-fine between them.

The crowd starts to clap, shattering the bubble of the moment. She passes people she doesn't recognize, catching snatches and murmurs—moving performance—masterful—flawless—from beneath bright paper masks. What little she can see of Logan’s cheeks are pink. He averts his gaze as he tucks her under his arm, slipping them both through the crowd and back to the edge of the room.

She rests against the wall beside him. There’s no way she’ll top that tonight. "Vivi taught you all that?" she asks, astonished.

Logan looks to the side, rubbing the back of his neck. "Well, there ain’t that much to do in a town this small. Pa said I couldn’t jus’ train all the time, but dancin’ is a bit like fightin’ so… I learned." The pink flush erupts like a sunrise across his cheeks.

Beyond Logan, Arvio appears around a poplar post, searching for something. Lucy presses a little further into the wall, and Logan’s eyes dart behind him. "He still at it?" He shifts just enough that Arvio can’t see past him. "Here’s hopin’ he learns to take a hint."

She frowns, lifting her feet up one at a time to shake them out. Her shoes are cute, but after the last few hours they’re really starting to pinch. "It doesn’t really matter. I think I’m done with dancing for the night."

Logan’s gaze is soft, even obscured as it is by his mask. The deep, earthen brown and matte finish lend a warm contrast to his pale eyes. "Need to put your feet up?" He jerks his chin at an unoccupied couch a dozen or so feet away. When she hesitates, he holds out an arm with a wry smirk. "Come on, let an ol' monster hunter protect you from the overgrown cock-a-doodle-doom."

He's the picture of the perfect gentleman, escorting her on his arm across the room and waiting for her to settle in before he takes up a position between her and three-quarters of the rest of the room. It isn’t the most comfortable seat, but it lets her rest her aching feet and right now that’s heavenly. She sighs in bliss as she curls them underneath her.

"Why even wear 'em if this is what happens?" Logan asks over his shoulder, lip quirked.

She rolls her eyes. "Wasn't my choice. I had to fight Pablo just to keep them this short. I'm just glad I had something in my closet; I hate trying to dance in a new dress." She cranes her neck to keep looking up at him. "Are you going to dance anymore?"

Logan shakes his head. "Naw. Ain't feelin’ it."

Lucy frowns. He's going to try that on her after that spectacle? "You sure looked like you were having a good time."

He sighs, watching the rest of the room as if he expects Duvos to attack again at any moment. "The others don’t know how to act ‘round me yet. They keep pushin’ and lookin’ for someone I ain’t no more. Someone I don’t know how to be again."

The tales she's heard from the townsfolk have never quite matched up with what she knows of him, but she never guessed it might affect him so deeply. "For what it's worth, I like this version of you."

Logan scoffs quietly. Beneath the shadow of his hat she can just barely make out a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Well, you'd be the first."

"Can you sit down or something?" He gives her a funny look, so she adds, "I’m craning my neck here to look at you. You’re too damn tall."

He laughs, but obliges, sitting gingerly on the other side of the loveseat. "Better?"

Before she can reply, the next song starts. Hugo’s piano sings out alone as Cooper steps off the stage to dance with Mabel. "Aww, that’s sweet that Hugo keeps performing so Cooper can dance."

Logan hums in agreement. "They did that even before Rhonda passed. Easier back when the band was bigger, but they keep the tradition goin'."

"Bigger?" Lucy looks over at Logan, surprised. Most of the other locals have been tight-lipped, reluctant to speak about the past while Logan was still at large, a stain on its memory. Even now that he’s back, she hasn’t learned much. Logan himself doesn't seem to have any such qualms about the town's history.

He leans toward her, the better to be heard over the music. "Back when I was a kid there was five of 'em. A couple left, one died. Got caught in a sandstorm one night an’ they never found him."

Lucy shudders. It’s just another reminder of how important the Little Woods are. Someday, those trees will protect Sandrock from the worst of the storms, but it’ll be years until then. They've freed the town from so much of what had crippled its growth, but real safety will take a lot more work.

A thought strikes her, and she asks, "Where’s Andy?"

Logan’s eyes scan the crowd, locating his son with the speed and precision of a hunter. "Gettin’ into trouble," he grumbles. He stands up just as Lucy catches sight of Andy, too. "I’d best go deal with it." He tips his hat to her before he leaves, taking off to stop Andy from sneaking yet another of Vivi's cookies into his already full hands.

Unfortunately, as soon as the monster hunter is out of earshot, Arvio descends like a dark cloud, cutting off any escape.

"Oh, most beautiful and mysterious lady, would you be so kind as to grace this stranger with a dance?" he asks, flourishing his cape. It doesn’t billow like he clearly wants it to, and he flashes a glare at it.

Lucy sighs. Everyone else is having a great time, and she doesn’t want to ruin it by making a scene. Some folks are already starting to stare. "I think I’m done, but thank you for asking this time, Arvio."

Arvio presses the back of his hand against his forehead, bending back dramatically. "Oh, you have seen through my mask to the humble shopkeeper beneath! Only your keen eyes could have pierced the veil of Light!" He falls dramatically to one knee. "Please, I beg of you! Just one dance?"

Lucy's tired plaster smile turns to a grimace as Arvio grows in volume. More people have turned to stare, a few whispering to each other, but no one seems to be interested in intervening. Her feet have only just started to recover, and the last thing she wants is to be trapped out there again. "I’m sorry, Arvio, but I’m too tired."

He shoots to his feet, bowing with a flourish. "Then allow me to fetch you a drink! Surely its restorative properties will refresh you for another dance!" He takes off before she can get another word in edgewise.

Lucy sighs. Now she just has to get out of here before he comes back. As she starts to stand up, Logan walks back out of the crowd, a yawning Andy in tow.

He quirks a lip. "Can’t leave you alone for a second before yer already back in trouble." The teasing tone takes the bite out of the statement. Lucy doesn't comment on the fact that she’s hardly alone. Even though the evening is winding down, more than half the town is still here. Logan is still the only one who's stepped in so far.

She rolls her eyes back at him. "You know me, trouble magnet. First it was bandits, now it's dance partners." The pain in her feet has mostly vanished, but she can’t stop the wince when she steps forward.

He nods at her, shifting his eyes toward where Arvio is getting punch. "Need help gettin’ out ‘fore he comes back?" Andy’s eyes brighten up at the prospect of subterfuge. "We were jus’ headin’ out."

"Yeah, think it’s best I duck out. I can only take so much purple prose," she says with a grimace. Arvio's exultations could hardly be called poetry. Her ears had been tortured even more than her feet before Logan had managed to spirit her away.

Logan chuckles. "Right, well, we can walk you home."

Normally she’d refuse—her workshop is hardly that far—but she can’t deny the appeal of having a living Arvio repellent all the way home after the night she’s had. She steps into his shadow, and together they walk out into the night.

Despite it being early summer, it’s chillier than usual for the time of year. Clouds are scattered across the starry sky, dappled with the faint light of the setting moon. Like Lucy, Logan and Andy have already removed their masks; in the moonlight both they and the town look softer. The desert sun so often bleaches Sandrock to stark contrast and vivid detail, but in this light the town looks picturesque. She can’t make out the faint scars and patches from the Duvos Occupation, even though she knows where to look.

Andy chatters the whole way to the workshop, narrating the events of the dance with breathless excitement, heedless of the fact that he keeps being interrupted by yawns. Along the way, she watches Pablo exchange a subdued wave with Wei, who’s still outside finishing up some work. As the barber turns to walk back toward his house and shop, Lucy sees his face twist into a frown.

All he wanted to talk about during their brief dance was her boss, who had backed out at the last minute for an undisclosed reason. Pablo was crushed, but that didn't deter him from telling her all about it: the mask he'd made especially with Wei's penchant for pinstripes in mind; the veritable eloquence with which he'd convinced Wei to attend; and the devastation he'd suffered when, not an hour before the dance was due to start, Wei had told him he would regretfully be unable to.

She catches Wei still staring after Pablo, accidentally hammering his thumb in his inattention. His swears echo softly out in the night as he shakes his stinging hand out and then holds the offending digit tightly in his other hand.

Lucy manages to keep it together until they’re out of sight, but afterward, she can't help but stop and laugh. Logan looks askance at her.

"What’s so funny?"

She motions back to where Wei and Pablo had been, tears of mirth prickling in her eyes. "Light, they’re both idiots," she gasps. "Did you see them?"

The corner of Logan’s mouth quirks with amusement. "I’m sure they’ll figure it out eventually."

When they approach the Blue Moon, Lucy waves him off. Arvio hasn’t reappeared, and there’s no reason for him to walk her all the way across the tracks. Logan doesn’t push, departing with another tip of his hat, hoisting a sleepy Andy up onto one arm. When she finally reaches her yard, she sighs with relief. She's had a great night, but between Arvio's weird dramatic displays and the lateness of the hour, she's glad to put it firmly into her memory and leave it there.

Tomorrow, things will be back to normal.

Chapter Text

Things do not, in fact, go back to normal. Lucy knows now that she has, in fact, made a terrible mistake.

The first morning after the dance, Arvio appeared at her door. She hadn't thought anything of it. After all, many of her friends liked to show up first thing in the morning for some gossip, and this seemed no different. He offered her some dried sandberries and, like a fool, she ate them while she walked. He chattered non-stop about something or other as he followed her to the commission office, but she tuned out his inane chatter the same way she tuned out Cooper.

Memories of the previous night were still playing out in her mind—a sand and sienna bulwark between herself and an encroaching storm of feathers and gold; a warm hand guiding her by the small of her back; the silver moonlight limning the buildings in the crisp, clear night—as she browsed the commission board and went back to her workshop to get started.

It wasn't until a few hours had passed and Arvio had still not left, that she tuned back into what he was saying. She parsed his ongoing chatter with what little she'd caught during the day: he seemed to think that they were a couple. Before she could correct him of this hilarious misconception, he commented on the time and left dramatically to finally do some work in his shop.

Having Arvio think she'd agreed to be his paramour was bad enough, but after her unwitting encouragement, things only got worse.

The second morning after the dance, Arvio showed up again. This time, she tried to cut through the constant chatter, but no matter what she tried to say the man did not hear her. Instead, he went on about how much money his shop made, how successful he was these days, and how it was so nice that she already got on well with his sister. She wanted to scream.

Townsfolk aren't supposed to loiter inside the commission office—it's a place for Guild business, not a lounge, as Yan was always so fond of reminding everyone—so after Arvio stalled as long as he could putting up a commission or two, he took Wei's frequent glances as his cue to step outside. As soon as the door swung shut, Lucy breathed a sigh of relief. She was drawing out the inspections as long as she could, but she could only stare at a storage box for so long before someone noticed she wasn't actually marking defects.

She took her time on the inspections anyway—the office might not be a lounge, but she's a member of the Guild, and she was technically still doing business—and she was just moving to the last one when the door swung open again. She ducked reflexively, but the person who strode into the office wasn't Arvio, and she let herself breathe again as she inspected a wooden doll.

"Where, oh where is a man supposed to get tea around here?" Pablo asked the open air.

Wei set his pen in its stand and folded his hands on the desk. "Hello, Pablo. Come to commission some more of your favorite tea?"

"Well." Pablo sat on the very edge of Wei's desk and folded his hands over his knee. "Someone has been instrumental in depleting my stock, so I suppose I'll have to put up a request and just hope someone can refresh my stock before my poor tea tin is entirely bare."

Lucy couldn't see Wei's face from where she was sitting, but she could see him lean down and pick up a familiar-looking packet tied with rough twine. So that's what he'd wanted that for.

"I thought it was only fair to get you some more, since you're right. You've been going through more tea than usual."

"Oh! You are good." Pablo took the packet from him, holding it to his nose and breathing deeply. "Mm. I do love this leaf. I don't suppose you'd know anyone who might want to share a pot of tea?" Pablo leaned across the desk, holding the tea close to his chest. His voice carried through the office, but he obviously didn't mean for anyone to hear except Wei when he said, "I still have some of Mabel's cake left."

Wei chuckled. "Hm. I guess I might know someone, but he won't be available till later."

Lucy tore her attention away and went back to inspections, letting thoughts of the masquerade—tales of the lost; a smile thrown over a shoulder; an eager little gentleman—deafen her to the conversation Wei and Pablo were clearly trying to keep to themselves. She was struggling to draw out the last inspection when Wei got up and walked Pablo out. He held the door open with his foot, a strange habit she still didn't quite understand. When he came back in, he stopped at the railing by the inspection floor.

"Everything alright?" he asked.

"Just needed a break," she said. "Did you see anyone outside?"

"No, I think your companion left."

Lucy marked the last defect on the lamp in front of her and got up. "Thanks. I think I should probably go home, then."

Wei nodded, giving her a friendly, sympathetic smile. "Stay safe, Lucy."

She was in a hurry to get home, but she paused at the door long enough to add, "If you need more tea, just let me know. I'm happy to give up some for a good cause. Or, you know, give you a discount."

Wei gasped. "I would never!" He was grinning, though, so her sentiment had done its job, even if, unlike Yan, he was too upstanding to take her up on the offer.

Seeing Wei and Pablo had made her day a little better—it was always nice to help someone foster a little romance—and she was able to raise the sandwall for some privacy. That was enough to get through the rest of her commission work without any weird, unwanted interruptions before she turned in early to get some much-needed sleep.

Yesterday, Arvio was at the gate again. She'd left the sandwall up, hoping he might be deterred by it. It was a futile hope, of course, but she was starting to get desperate. She ignored him as best she could, and resolved to talk to Amirah on her way to deliver some goods around town. Unfortunately, every time she saw her, Amirah was deep in conversation with Heidi. From the way the two of them had their heads together, it wasn't a conversation she was willing to barge into. Heidi had been wanting to make things public between them for so long, and Lucy didn't want to do anything to jeopardize her friend's happiness.

Instead, Lucy rode off to Gecko Station, and spent longer than she might normally, digging out every gram of ore she could get her hands on. Thankfully, when she managed to drag herself back out of the mine, Arvio was gone. Logan tipped his hat to her as he rode back from patrol, and she was able to get home unmolested.

This morning, Lucy lays in bed, dread pooling in her gut. For the first time in months, she doesn't want to get up. What's the chance that Arvio is out there, making a scene again? Pretty high, if the last few days are any indication. She closes her eyes, trying to will time to stop.

Something plinks off her window, startling her out of her doze. Her heart races as she looks around wildly. When the thundering in her ears calms to a dull roar, she hears Arvio outside, shouting for her, and the soft sound of another rock hitting the glass. She puts her head in her hands. This has to stop, or she's going to end up going to jail for murder. She makes sure all the blinds are drawn, before slipping into the bathroom to get dressed. She doesn't think he's a pervert, but there's no way she's getting dressed anywhere with windows now.

She sneaks out the side door and takes stock of the yard. Arvio's got a blanket spread directly in front of the gate—no, a picnic—so that way is out. She sidles around the house as far as she can, then sprints for where Merle is standing in the stable. She forgoes the saddle—Elsie can give her a lecture later—and jumps the fence, not sure whether to curse or bless her past self for putting the sandwall down. Arvio starts after her as she races past him, and she's only got a few seconds to decide where to go. She's already starting to slip, so she pulls Merle to a halt in front of the first safe place she can think of.

She bangs on the door, foot bouncing on the cobble. A breeze blows the last of the morning chill over her and she shivers, more because of the adrenaline than the wind. "Come on," she mutters, and knocks again, louder this time. "Wake up, yakboy." She bounces on the balls of her feet and looks up and down the street. Quick footsteps grow louder behind her as the door swings open, and Andy's smiling face greets her. As soon as he takes in her expression, he lets her in without a word.

Logan's eyes fly open at the sound of someone slamming on his front door. He's out of bed, heart pounding in his chest and gun in his hand, before the rest of his consciousness can gather enough influence to stop him.

Below him, the lock clicks and the door squeaks open. The house needs some maintenance to get out of the shambles it's fallen into, but he just hasn't had the time. "Andy! You can't jus' let random people into the house!" he calls down as he opens his bedroom door.

"It's just Lucy!" the kid calls back up, annoyed.

Logan stops abruptly halfway across the landing, swearing under his breath. He ain't got enough friends that he can casually alienate one by walking out half-dressed. Pa would have tanned his hide if he weren't hospitable.

Dipping back inside his room, he shoves the pistol back in the holster, buckles the gun belt over his sleeping trousers, and throws on a shirt. He steps back out through the door, rubbing his hands over his face, and finishes tying his hair up as he jogs down the stairs. He's not real presentable, but it's a damn sight better than thirty seconds ago.

Anything he had to say vanishes from his mind as soon as he gets an actual look at her. Light, she looks a mess. Andy's done the right thing pulling her inside. He shoots the kid an apologetic look, but doesn't have time to say anything out loud before she jumps in.

"I'm sorry. I didn't know where else to go." There's a fragility in her voice he's never heard before, and immediately his hackles are up. Something's wrong. He approaches her gingerly, like a skittish filly.

"It's alright. You're always welcome here." He does his best to keep his voice soft and non-threatening in case she spooks. "Why don't you come sit down?"

Andy, bless his heart, pulls her over to one of the armchairs. Logan sits across from her so as not to loom, suddenly acutely aware of his own height. She's curled in on herself, radiating unhappiness.

"So... I doubt it's that you need a dance partner this early in the mornin'." It's a terrible joke, but it does draw out a laugh, and she starts to relax.

"Can I... ask you a favor? You can say no, if you don't like it." She still looks apprehensive, but the tension is rapidly leaving her shoulders.

"For you? Anythin'." He owes her more than he could ever begin to repay. Without her, he'd likely be dead in a ditch somewhere.

She starts telling him about what Arvio's been up to lately—following her around, taking no hints, throwing rocks at her window—and anger flares in his chest, hot and bright. He ain't the best with people, or with words, but it also ain't hard to tell she's glossing over a lot. Whatever's going on, she ain't telling him the half of it. By the time she's finished, there's tears gathering at the corners of her eyes.

Even before everything, Logan hadn't known what to do with a crying woman. Add in the complication that she's the closest thing to a real friend he has in town, and he's downright panicked. When he looks over, Andy's just as worried.

"Kid, why don't you go get the builder some water," he says. Andy takes off. Logan almost reflexively calls out to tell him not to run, but decides maybe this ain't the best time for that. In Andy's shoes, he'd run, too. He gets up so he can take a knee next to her chair. "Hey, it'll be alright. Whatever you need, I'm here." After a second of hesitation, he reaches out and pats her on the shoulder.

"I just don't understand," she says, breath hitching as she holds back a sob. "We were friends! And then out of nowhere he goes and turns into this weird thespian nightmare?" She stops, burying her face in her hands. He can barely make out the rest. "He just won't leave me alone! I don't understand."

"Want me to scare him off?" Violence is one of the few things he's good for. It'd probably get him in trouble with Justice, but he won't break something that won't heal easily.

Surprisingly, she shakes her head. "I don't want to start trouble in town." She looks up at him beseechingly, and he already knows he's going to regret whatever comes next. "Can you just… hang around? At the dance, you were the only one he avoided. He can't keep it up forever. Knowing him, he'll get bored within the week."

That… could be worse. Something in the back of his mind is still uneasy, feeling a trap he can't quite see, but they're friends. Friends spend time together, even he knows that much. What's the worst that could happen?

"I can be your shield," he says with a small smile. "Gotta take Andy to school first, but afterward I'm all yours."

She sighs with palpable relief, and Logan cranes his neck trying to see what's taking Andy so long.

He gets to his feet and walks to the door, cracking it open to look outside. Arvio's loitering by the corner. He swears under his breath, closing the door quietly, before the other man can notice. He turns to the builder. "He's still out there. You sure you don't jus' want me to walk ya to the Civil Corps?"

"Looking like that?" she asks, amusement on her face, one eyebrow raised.

He flushes. He must look worse than he thought. "Well, I'd appreciate gettin' to gear up, but if yer in a hurry—"

Lucy laughs, shaking her head. "Go get dressed, then we can talk."

He retreats back upstairs—slower this time, so as not to set a bad example for Andy. The boy's just now walking out of the kitchen with a cup of water. Logan nods at him, ruffling his hair on the way past.

"Hey!" Andy whines, nearly spilling the cup he's filled way too full.

Logan doesn't dawdle on his morning routine, but he doesn't rush through it, either. These days he feels like just a pale shadow of himself, and he'd like to avoid any more comments on his looks, or lack thereof, if possible. He puts his armor on the same way he always does, then washes his face and hands, and stares blankly at the guy in the mirror for a few long seconds. Maybe one day, he'll recognize him.

For once, Andy's ready to go to school on time. Lucy looks nervously at the door. Logan hesitates, but before he can say anything, Andy interrupts.

"We could go out the window!" The boy points excitedly upstairs.

"I ain't leavin' through a window. Not from my own damn house." Logan yanks the door open wide, wincing at the brief shriek it makes. Arvio is, as expected, still there, pretending to be incredibly interested in the brickwork making up Mi-an's house. He perks up as soon as the door squeals, but shrinks right back down when Logan glares at him.

Lucy puts her hand on his arm. "Maybe dial it back a bit."

He grumbles, but stops staring Arvio down. As soon as the eye contact breaks, the younger fella's off like a shot. While Logan wishes that was the end of it, it's more than likely that he'll be back. Thankfully, the walk to the school house is uneventful. He tips his hat to Jane as she takes Andy off his hands. The kid's already talking excitedly about today's lesson, and Logan hopes like hell he actually did his homework this time.

Errand discharged, Logan turns to Lucy. "Where to, darlin'?"

She hesitates for a moment, glancing down the street. "Amirah's," she decides.

"Not the Civil Corps?"

"I was hoping to find someone who could help." She looks him up and down. "Present company excepted."

"You think Amirah can stop this nonsense?"

Lucy shrugs. "If anyone can, it's her."

"I don't know," Logan muses. "I hear the Captain's got a real mean set of claws."

She laughs, and starts down the hill. He keeps pace with her, watching tourists and townsfolk alike as they pass. He tips his hat to her as she disappears inside Amirah's shop, then takes up his post against the wall, one leg drawn up in deliberate, practiced ease.

It's not long before he spies Arvio. The kid seems to think he's evaded him, and Logan carefully doesn't look directly his way. It's ridiculous, the way he's trying to hide behind a post only half as wide as he is. It's all he can do not to laugh.

Lucy comes out of the shop before too long, a furrow between her brows and a slump to her shoulders. Logan steps up beside her, extending his arm and putting himself bodily between her and Arvio. When she looks up at him with one eyebrow raised, he points wryly to the post. She covers her mouth and looks away from him, shoulders shaking with held laughter.

He walks her to the Commission Office next, waiting outside again while she completes whatever business she does in there. He gets the occasional weird look, standing around not doing much, but that's nothing out of the ordinary. Hell, he's pretty sure one of his wanted posters used to hang right here. Maybe that's what's tripping folks up.

Arvio makes a show of walking to the Blue Moon, but Logan doesn't hesitate to glower disdainfully as he does. Sadly, the kid doesn't turn tail and run this time, but slips inside the saloon instead. While he's occupied, Lucy steps back out of the office, a sheaf of papers under one arm.

Falling into step with her is as natural as breathing, and he walks her back to the workshop. Once they pass the inside the fence she sighs with relief, hitting a button to raise the sandwall.

"Want me to stick around?"

She looks hesitant. "If you don't mind? I'm a bit behind on work because of all this nonsense."

Logan nods, nonplussed. "Mind if I do some work while I'm here?"

"What... kind of work?"

He shrugs. "Bit of weapon maintenance, an' Rambo needs some lookin' after. I don't mind doin' Merle too if I can use your supplies."

"Oh, yeah, of course." She smiles awkwardly. "I... thought you were going to ask to use one of the machines."

"I wouldn't mind being able to use the workbench for cleaning this." He drops his hand to the side, resting it on the butt of the gun holstered there. "But I don't wanna be in your way. This is your space, your things. I can use a table or a spare blanket just as well. Even a saddle, in a pinch."

She leaves through the orders in her hand quickly. "You can use the workbench first. I'm not going to need it till later." She starts toward a line of machines, then stops and turns back to him. "Logan, I really can't thank you enough for this."

He starts to say, "It's nothin'," but she cuts him off.

"It's not nothing. You're taking time out of your day for me, and I appreciate it. And if it was really nothing, someone else would have stepped in already."

He frowns, unable to deny that, at least. Someone else really should have stepped in. He'd done so at the party as a matter of course. If he'd been the type to hang around town, he'd have tried to shut down the nonsense of the past few days as well. Though he wants to defend his home, to tell her the others weren't just turning a blind eye, he can't argue with the evidence.

"Well… Yer welcome, I guess." He rubs the back of his neck awkwardly. "I don't mind none. Any time you need, I'm here for ya."

This time when she smiles, it's like the sun coming out from behind a cloud. Something long forgotten jumps in his chest at the sight, but he squashes that feeling before it can linger. This ain't the time for that kinda thing.

Amirah huffs in frustration and pulls the clay off the wheel, massaging it back into a ball. She's never had this much trouble throwing a simple pot. Usually, she can sit down and start up her wheel, and the world melts away. It's just her and the clay. Today, though, there's just too much world, and not enough clay for her to escape it.

But she can try.

She starts the wheel going again, but as the clay begins to take shape under her hands, all she can think about is how terrible a friend she was to Lucy this morning. It wasn't that she didn't want to hear what the builder had to say, but Lucy had come in when Amirah was still trying to sort out her backlog of orders, and they had got to talking. Well, Amirah had, mostly. Before they knew it, Lucy was comforting Amirah and very politely excusing herself so Amirah could have a good cry in peace.

She had, and then she'd sat down at the wheel to get some work done. That was an hour ago, and she's still struggling to shape anything beyond a basic pot. This is hardly the time for her to lose the cool that's gotten her and Arvio this far, but lose it she certainly has. It doesn't help that losing said cool is making it materially harder to do anything to resolve any of her problems.

She can't focus on work, so getting through her backlog of orders is all but impossible. Her brother is singularly obsessed with one of the most respected craftspeople in town, a feeling which is not returned in similar magnitude, if at all. Arvio did manage to kickstart one of the most successful fundraising events in Sandrock history, but all the work fell to Amirah, Heidi and Pablo, which has only put her more behind in her usual work.

She's in love with one of the most beautiful, most wonderful women in the whole world, so getting her parents to approve a serious relationship, let alone a marriage, is out of the question. She's run ragged and so exhausted she barely has time to eat, let alone spend time with her love, which is not helping the relationship that's already starting to show signs of strain. Heidi hates keeping their relationship a secret, even though she refuses to admit it to Amirah's face, and Amirah's afraid that if she doesn't do something soon—

The door flies open. Amirah has stopped assuming it's Pablo, because quite frankly she hasn't seen Pablo since he sulked his way out of the masquerade. She hasn't had time to visit him, and he's too busy pining over the guild commissioner, of all people. Well, to each his own, she supposes.

No, it's just Arvio. Of course.

"Amirah, darling, I need your wisdom," he declares, collapsing into her armchair.

Amirah heaves a sigh and shuts off the pottery wheel. She's not getting any work done anyway, so she cleans her hands and pulls up a second chair to endure whatever inane nonsense Arvio's spouting today. She dons her porcelain kindness and asks what's bothering him.

"The love of my life is stepping out with another man!"

"The... love of your life?" Amirah asks.

"My cactus flower, my mysterious beauty, my precious gem!" Arvio sinks deeper into the armchair in melodramatic despair. "Lucy, of course!"

"Ah."

"And with that villain!" Arvio scoffs in disgust. "I'm upstaged at every turn, sister! The rest of the town believes he's a saint, just because he uncovered a couple of traitors! But I see his game." He scowls. "If he thinks he can upstage me, then he ought to think again! I am unupstageable!"

Is that even a word? "Arvio—"

"He swept her out from under me at the masquerade, too, you know. I worked tirelessly to make the night perfect for her, and he just came in and—" He huffs. "I worked on that outfit for three days straight. I wore lifts for her! And she could hardly even see me past that boring beige cloak he kept up like a bastion between us."

Amirah would hardly have called anything of Pablo's make boring, even something as understated as Logan's attire. "Any woman who'd love you wouldn't care about your height," Amirah tells him as gently as she can.

"Of course she wouldn't," he says quickly. "But, you know, of course I knew she'd be in heels, and I didn't want her to feel gawky while we danced." His eyes light up, and Amirah shifts anxiously in her seat, hoping to cover the exasperation that's fighting to crash between them. "Oh, and the onlookers. Absolutely no class. I heard someone call my dancing stiff. Can you believe it! They likened me to an old lady," he grumbles. "No matter. That fiend spirited her away while I was finding her refreshment."

Amirah had kept an eye on him all night, and, at least from across the room, it had certainly seemed a lot more benign than Arvio was making it out to be. Logan had cut in, true, but Lucy had looked so tormented by Arvio's dramatics that Amirah couldn't quite find fault in that. And when he'd "spirited her away", she'd looked more than ready to go. She's sure if Arvio had his way, she'd have been dragged all over the room until there was no one left to impress. "Brother, perhaps she simply wasn't used to that kind of exertion. Dancing is quite different than the sorts of things she does."

"Oh, naturally!" Arvio lets out a laugh. "I let her go, of course. No need to exhaust the poor dear. And, to that end, I brought her breakfast the next morning, and every morning since. I waited on her hand and foot! I even tried to lighten her workload with my own two hands. And still it isn't enough." He huffs, then sinks lower in the chair with a dejected wail. "She passed me by for his company this morning!"

Amirah sighs quietly. She can feel a headache tickling her temples, a positively wonderful topper to an already terrible morning. She tries to remember a time when Arvio didn't speak entirely in exclamations, but she comes up dreadfully short. She was so sure his obsession was with the masquerade, but it's clear now that was only a prelude to the real fixation. This is by far one of the worst, and she prays to the Light it passes more quickly than all the rest as a result. She isn't sure how much of this she can take.

"Logan, of course!" Arvio crows, even though Amirah hasn't asked. "Oh, the cad! And of course he's escorting her around town. Oh, my dearest sister, what must we do to rid ourselves of this loathsome cretin? And when we can't even communicate!" He manages to collapse further into the chair with another dramatic cry without actually falling out of it, which Amirah finds genuinely impressive. "He keeps us apart as surely as the sky keeps the sun and the moon at a distance!"

Amirah prides herself on her poise, but she's inches from snapping at her little brother. She's only done it once before, back in Barnarock. Whatever narrative Arvio's constructed for himself is purely hysterics and melodrama, but if this follows his typical pattern, he'll run out of steam before the week is through. No one wants to see him put someone else through this, and Amirah is certain that whatever Logan's doing is simple chivalry and in no way nefarious.

She can't tell Arvio that in his current state, of course, so she endures him instead. "I'm sure it'll all work out, darling."

"Oh, please." He throws his head back dramatically for a few seconds, then sits up. "Do you really think so?"

Amirah inclines her head slightly, feeling the hairline cracks of headache at her temples begin to grow and split inside her skull. "Mm."

"Well." He sighs dreamily and stares at the door. Amirah silently begs him to take it. "And you! Don't think I've forgotten that you haven't told me about your love!"

Her heart picks up speed, thundering like a runaway train. "My what?"

"I've seen you together, making your little plans. All your smugness, the talking over tea. Darling, why haven't you simply told me?"

Amirah feels her palms start to sweat, but she maintains her stranglehold on her perfect poise. "Arvio, it's—"

"You know I adore Pablo, don't you?"

The mask slips, and Amirah gapes, but Arvio's not looking at her. He's got his face in his hands instead.

His head pops up to reveal glassy eyes and a watery grin. "Oh! Darling, I am so pleased for you. Such style, and very successful. Mother and Father will be so pleased to have another businessman in the family."

"Yes, of course," Amirah says quietly. The hot panic bleeds out of her, leaving her cold enough to send a shiver down her spine. More fool her, to think Arvio would really be any better than her parents. She'd held out hope that he'd accept her for who she was, but he can't even accept Pablo. Never once has Pablo expressed any interest in anyone other than a man, and yet, he's the one Arvio picks out as Amirah's secret admirer.

Then again, she had promised Heidi she would try, and while she has him here, and they're on the subject... "Arvio, darling, may I bend your ear on a matter of some... delicacy?"

Arvio's eyes light up. "Of course, dearest."

"I have this... friend." Amirah scratches at flakes of drying clay on her palm. "My friend is... well, it's been said that they're seeing someone. And this person they're seeing—well, they're just friends, you know. It's really someone else they're fond of, and the person they're fond of truly does return the affection, and well, I—er, that is, my friend doesn't want to admit their true feelings to the world."

Arvio gasps. "Oh! Why not?"

"Well, it might be seen as... taboo."

He frowns, studying the floorboards at his feet. "Yes, I see." He looks up at her. "Nonsense, darling sister. Love cannot be taboo! Not in a world such as ours. You must tell your friend to dispense with the pretending at once!"

"Oh, I don't think my friend is looking for... advice. But, ah, in case they do, I'll certainly... pass yours along..." Amirah frowns.

"She must already have a plan," Arvio mutters. "I shall have to find out what it is, so I can do my part in it! Yes, of course. She does love this town so dearly. Perhaps there are others—" He surges to his feet. "My darling sister, I do love our chats. Until next time, dearest!"

He's gone as quickly as he came in, leaving Amirah with the distinct impression he's completely misunderstood what she said. Unfortunately, now that he's no longer a viable distraction, she'll have to get back to work.

She has some paperwork to do, balancing her ledger and checking her inventory. She really ought to work on her orders, but she's at odds with the clay, and her chat with Arvio has done nothing to fix that. She's not going to be able to correct his assumptions about her love life, and Heidi won't wait for her forever. What little time she'd managed to scrap out for Heidi before is a distant memory; Heidi deserves so much more than all the things Amirah's failing to give her.

Her work on the masquerade had been underpaid, because she desperately wants this beautiful town to succeed, but it's left her far behind where she'd hoped to be at this point in the year. She no longer knows how long it'll be before she's solvent enough to support her parents, even if she manages to work through her growing backlog before she starts losing custom. Well, losing more custom. She's had three orders canceled in the last week alone.

The ledger stares at her unchanged, and Amirah flips it shut, dislodging the letter tucked in the front cover. It flutters to the floor, and when she picks it up to tuck it away, her eyes catch on the pencil drawing of a cherryplum flower on the outside.

Blossom.

Her eyes blur, and her mask shatters, clattering to the floor with a sob as she leans on the desk. She really thought she could bring her family out of Barnarock, to make a life for herself and her brother that wasn't a scratch in the dirt. She thought she could make a living doing what she loved, instead of scraping by washing laundry in some fancy manor in Lucien. She thought she could fall in love, instead of suffering an arranged marriage to someone she'd learn to tolerate.

She thought she could be enough.

Owen pushes a glass under the counter among its kin and picks another up from the crowd of glistening, clean ones next to him. He enjoys a lot of things about running the Blue Moon—the people, the food, the smiles, the community—but drying dishes isn't really one of them. It's repetitive and dull, but it's this or trade places with Jane at the other end of the bar.

Technically, he shouldn't let her work in the saloon, because she keeps refusing to let him pay her for her time. Apparently he doesn't know what's good for him, though, because she's currently listening to Arvio complain while he gets to enjoy his own thoughts. It's a slow afternoon, and the only other patrons right now—everyone's favorite monster hunter and everyone's favorite builder—are in the back corner booth talking quietly over their food. Logan's hat is slightly askew, but he hasn't noticed it or fixed it for almost ten full minutes; too busy listening to the builder tell a story with her fork and empty hand. At one point he narrowly avoids a chunk of potato, laughing as it flies past his face.

Owen hasn't seen Logan laugh since Howlett's death. Now, though, it lights up his whole face, at least until he tips his hat toward the builder, hiding behind its worn brim. She's laughing too, so it must not be anything too serious. And, well, good for him. Laughter is the foundation of a solid relationship. He doesn't think he's ever seen Logan this intent on a date, but admittedly his memory of them has faded in the almost four years since Logan brought a date into Owen's fine establishment.

That said, those two did save Sandrock together. There's a chance they're just each taking comfort in someone with a shared experience. Owen's not unfamiliar with that either. Hard to tell from over here. Maybe having a friend is why Lucy always pays for both of them, or maybe it's just because everyone knows he's neck-deep in the city fines and damages he refused to waive.

Arvio's groan interrupts his train of thought. The man has slumped forward onto the bar, head on his forearms. Jane winces and, after a pause to make sure he's done with whatever long-winded grievance he's been airing at her, tiptoes to stand next to Owen. She picks up one of the glasses, absently drying it as she turns to him.

"Poor guy," she says. "I didn't think the builder had it in her to lead him on like that. She seems so sweet."

"Lead him on?"

"Isn't it obvious? He adores her, and she won't even look at him. Barely even acknowledges what he's been doing for her."

Owen blinks, before remembering that she's new in town. Painfully new, actually. He takes her by the arm and pulls her into the kitchen, waiting until the door has finished swinging shut to answer the confusion in her face. "How do I say this? It's... weird. He's weird."

Jane chuckles. "Weird? I think it's kind of cute. Taking the masquerade theatrics a little far, but I guess it's entertaining."

Owen shakes his head. "No, cute is when you leave half a piece of jerky in your pocket and Nemo follows you all over town until you give him a snack." He does a double take, finally processing the last part of what she's just said. "What do you mean, masquerade theatrics?"

"Oh, I thought you knew. Everyone's talking about how they put together their little display. It was masterful, really. Historical re-enactment in the form of a subtle melodrama? Genius. A little overdone with the feathers, but they got the point across, anyway. And her dress was gorgeous. It looked just like the oasis. I can't believe Vivi was able to do that on such short notice."

"They?"

"Arvio and Logan and Lucy. I guess people who know him are surprised they got him in on it, but he did really well playing the hero. He must have practiced for weeks to nail that last dance. I can't imagine someone like him knew how to turn a step like that."

"Someone like him?"

"Yeah, you know." Jane waves her hands dramatically. "Public enemy number one, rough and gruff outlaw, big mean monster hunter?"

"Ah. He did grow up here, and his pa was big on gentlemanly skills. It's not heroics, it's just how he is." He waves a hand. "I don't think this is about the masquerade. He's just weird and dramatic. This isn't the first time he's done this."

"Oh. He's really into her, then?"

"No, I mean he's done it with other people before." Owen watches Arvio picking at the plate in front of him through the window set high in the door. The sound from the restaurant proper is muffled, but the shopkeeper's dramatic, heavy sighs are frequent and obvious. "The first was Heidi, a few weeks after he moved in. That didn't last long, mostly because he got in the way of her work. She told him in no uncertain terms that he wasn't welcome in her shop, and he lost interest after that."

"Next was Catori. That one was painful, mostly because we didn't know her all that well and we all thought she was into it. He actually proposed to her, but she turned him down. Publicly too, said he was cute, but that she has a kid his age."

Jane blinks. "I thought Alo was an only child?"

"He is."

"Ah. Yeah, that's… harsh."

Owen shrugs. "He didn't take it well. Took him a long time to recover, but he latched onto Grace pretty quickly when she started working here. Thankfully that one ended practically before it began."

Jane's eyes are wide as he continues to spin the tale. She glances through the glass for a quick second. "Oh," she breathes. "He was so convincing. A little dramatic, maybe, but..."

Owen grimaces, wondering how many others Arvio has managed to convince of his latest madness, before continuing the story. "Then, a couple of years ago, there was Mi-an, the junior builder, and that..." Owen shudders. "We held out hope that maybe she'd return the feelings, at least in part. By the time we realized it was just as one-sided as all the others, he was deeper into it than we'd seen him before. We'd all gotten familiar with his moods, so Trudy and I tried to step in before it got any further. It... did not go well."

He pauses to give Jane time to consider. Out at the bar, Arvio sighs into the last of his Highwind fried rice—in his words, "the food of true love."

"What do you mean, didn't go well?" she asks.

"We thought he'd leave her alone after we talked to him, but he just doubled down. So we tried again. And he doubled down again. Heidi finally put a stop to it because Mi-an was hiding in her shop having a breakdown over it, and he was outside shouting bad poetry at her. It... wasn't pretty. He mourned his lost love loudly and at length to anyone and everyone. Scared off most of the tourists in town at the time."

Jane's wince of discomfort turns into a grimace of outright horror. "Oh, Light."

Owen shrugs. "So when he started in on Nia last year, we all just tried to help her through it till it was time for her to go back to Highwind. It's really not so bad with Lucy, honestly. So far, as much as I can tell, he just follows her around and tries to insert himself in everything she's doing."

"What about the Civil Corps? Couldn't someone put him in jail for stalking?"

"I don't think he's doing it maliciously. He's just... misguided. Logan hasn't even threatened him yet—and you can bet if he had, we'd all have heard about it."

Beyond the kitchen door, Arvio starts and twists toward the back of the saloon. Owen frowns, but by the time he steps out behind the bar, all that's left of Logan and Lucy is the corner of Logan's cape disappearing out the far door. Arvio is already halfway to the nearer door and closing fast, one hand on the strap of his bag. Owen starts to call after him, but he knows it's no use. He doesn't have a valid reason to keep the guy, and before he can get any words out, Arvio's made it out the door.

"She'll be okay, right? She's got Logan with her."

Owen chuckles. "Yeah. I think she'll be alright."

They're only a few yards from the Blue Moon when Logan hears the front door slam open, and the light patter of feet on stone. It's been two weeks and Arvio has still not given up. If anything, he's gotten worse, though whether that's him escalating as Logan stops him or just the natural pattern he'd follow is impossible to know. Regardless, Logan's never been the type of coward who could just look away while someone was being harassed.

Maybe he should just whistle for Rambo, but the goat's been unharnessed all evening, and ideally he'd only ride bareback and reinless in an emergency. Annoying as this is, it ain't an emergency.

Yesterday, he'd ridden by Lucy's workshop after patrol and found the kid in front of her gate, barring her from returning some commissions. Logan would never forget the look on his face when he rode up and scooped the builder up onto Rambo without even a how-do-you-do to acknowledge him. It hadn't taken long to help her with her deliveries once she was no longer trapped by Arvio and his obsessive ramblings.

She interrupts his train of thought, voice thick with exasperation. "Light, is he following us?"

Logan's had it about up to here with the kid. This is far past ridiculous, and honestly he's damn surprised Justice hasn't stepped in yet. Frankly, if it wasn't for Lucy's wishes, he'd have gone and given the sheriff a piece of his mind—at a minimum—days ago.

Instead, he gets an idea. It's probably in the top ten worst ideas he's ever had, but since he doesn't have any others, he turns to her and asks, "Do you trust me?"

The footsteps get louder, but she doesn't hesitate when she turns to him. "Of course."

He pushes her up against the wall and brushes a thumb against her lips. They're softer than he'd expected, not that he'd given it much thought. She looks back at him, wide-eyed, and he raises an eyebrow, waiting for her permission.

When she nods, he presses his lips over hers, right as Arvio turns the corner.

He'd intended it to be quick—a peck on the lips, something to scare the kid off—but then she opens her mouth under his, and the rest of the world blows away like a tumbleweed. The brick under one palm is cold and rough; the skin of her cheek under the other is soft and warm. He's as like to find his way out of here as he is out of a sandstorm. Someone could come up behind him and steal the gun right out of his holster and he can't tell if he'd notice or care.

The thought knocks the sense back into him. He pulls back, breathless and woozy from the intensity. At some point he moved to press up against her completely, and now one of her hands is in his hair, knocking his hat askew as her fingers twine through the strands beneath the leather cord that keeps it up. The other clutches his cape's collar, pulling him even closer.

His hands aren't much better off. Yeah, one of them's just propping them up against the bricks, but the other's moved to her hip. At least it isn't—

He forcibly derails the train of thought there. Too much more and Justice would have to arrest them for public indecency.

He rests his head against the wall, trying to remember how to breathe. No kiss has ever felt like that before. Is that normal? Is this what his pa actually meant by finding someone special, or is this just 'cause it's been a long and lonely last few years?

He's about to ask, desperate to know if that was just him, but she beats him to the punch. "Is he gone?" She's breathing heavily, forehead resting against his shoulder.

Logan blinks, trying to collect his thoughts. Right, he'd done this for a reason. He has no earthly idea when Arvio left, but he sure ain't here now. Light, he hopes nobody else saw that show.

"Naw, he took off." His voice is wrecked, ragged and jagged inside his throat. He winces as Lucy shudders against him, and swallows heavily. He is, he realizes belatedly, still pressing her up into the wall.

"Shit, sorry, didn't mean to—" He fumbles over his words as he pulls back, adjusting his hat. A couple strands of hair fall around his face, but he ignores them; he's almost home safe for the night. Lucy's eyes are still slightly glazed, but when she pulls her focus together, she glances behind him. She looks relieved when she realizes the street is deserted.

"Do you think he's gone for the night?" Logan asks. Lucy shakes her head. She finally pushes herself off the wall, still watching the street for signs of serenading shopkeepers lurking in the shadows. Again.

"I can walk you home, or you can help me teach Andy some constellations," he offers.

She perks up at the latter. "I didn't know you were an astronomy aficionado."

He pauses, trying to parse the words. "A what now?"

She nods up the street to his house, and they start walking. "That you were into stars. I know Qi is, but—well, you know."

Logan snorts. "Not quite the same. My pa taught me how to navigate the desert with them, so we could get home from anywhere. That, and all the stories he knew to go with them. Figured Andy might need to know them for the same reason some day."

"Still sounds like an aficionado to me." She smirks. "Even if you don't have a really big telescope."

When they get home, Andy's back from Vivi's and beyond excited, bouncing off the walls despite the late hour because Lucy is here, too. Logan just ruffles his hair, telling him to calm down, before he pulls the ladder down from the attic.

Outside, the bright cosmos stretching out uninterrupted over them, he quietly tells Andy about the stars. It's a mixture of how to navigate so he'll never be lost, and the old stories his pa used to tell, about the figures written in the cosmos. Lucy joins in, telling him what they're made of, or how far away they are, or the stories she heard as a girl in Highwind.

Before too long, Andy's started to doze beside him, always insisting he's not really asleep. Meanwhile, Lucy's gone and gotten tucked up flush against his side because of the cold. Her head's on his chest, and she too has drifted off. He offered to get her a blanket, but she insisted that if he was going to run as hot as a furnace she might as well make use of it. He can't really protest, not when his mind's still around the corner from the saloon, pressing her up against a wall. He's a man, not a saint.

He stares up at the stars a bit longer, just thinking to himself. Surely she'd say something if she felt it, too. Maybe he's building it up too much. Light knows his pa would have reprimanded him for what he did, shoving her up against a wall like a beast, even if it was for a good cause. Of course, he'd take the lecture if it meant he could ask the man for advice after. Howlett hadn't had much to say about girls; he'd seemed downright mystified by how fascinated Logan was by them after those teenage hormones had kicked in. He'd sure had some things to say about being a gentleman, regardless, and Logan feels like he's gone and stamped all over them.

Before he can get trapped in any spirals, he shakes himself awake. Andy stirs, but the builder doesn't, seemingly dead to the world as she uses him for a heater. Eventually he just picks her up, carrying her down to the extra bed in Andy's room. Once the blankets are pulled up over the kid, despite his sleepy protests that he doesn't need it, Logan finally retires to his own bed. Even though nothing's changed, it doesn't seem as cold and empty as it did the night before.

Chapter Text

"Hey, wanna see something cool?" Lucy asks, picking up the pan off the stove.

Andy's eyes widen. "What're ya gonna do?"

Lucy grins, then with a flick of her wrist, flips the pancake over and catches it smack in the middle of the pan.

Andy lets out an excited howl and jumps up and down. "Do it again!"

"Hang on. I have to wait for this side to cook." She stirs the batter and taps her foot while she counts in her head. When it's ready, she nods. "Okay. Here goes." She flips the pancake and lands it in the pan, then slides it onto the platter next to the stove. Andy's hooting and hollering with excitement, begging her to do it again, and staring at the pancake willing it to cook faster so she can flip it. After three or four, she asks, "Do you want to flip one?"

His eyes go the size of the platter that's slowly accumulating pancakes. "Me? Yeah! Aw, this is gonna be so cool!"

She turns him around so she can hold both of his hands in hers, and very carefully, they both flip it together. It sails up, a little higher than Lucy was expecting, and Andy's resisting her attempts to guide him just enough that it lands off center, the outer edge half an inch or so off the edge of the pan.

"Aw, it landed stupid."

"Hey, it landed in the pan! Pretty good for your first try." She waits a few more seconds, then shakes it down into the pan to finish cooking. "The only way to get better is to practice."

"What if I drop one?"

"What do you mean, what if you drop one?"

"I mean, what if I drop it on the floor?"

Lucy shrugs. "Feed it to Rambo?"

"Ain't that a waste of food?"

Hooves clatter outside the kitchen window. Lucy slides the pancake onto the platter and pours some more batter into the pan. "I suppose it is. When I was growing up, one or two pancakes on the floor was the price you paid for learning to have fun cooking. I haven't dropped one in a long time. Once you get the hang of it, it's pretty easy. Plus, you don't waste water washing a spatula, if you flip all your pancakes."

Andy giggles. "Hey, that's pretty smart."

The door opens, and Lucy hears the familiar shhk of a gun half-drawn from a holster. "Just me and Andy," she calls.

She hears Logan let out a sigh; after a few seconds, he strides into the kitchen. "Thought you two were goin' to the workshop today. Left ya some skins when I swung by," he says lightly, a hand resting on her shoulder as he peers into the pan.

Lucy's stomach does a somersault that has nothing to do with the smell of fresh pancakes. "You sure know the way to a girl's heart," she jokes.

All she can see of Logan's face is his chin as he chuckles.

"Seriously, though, thank you. How'd you know?"

"Tanning rack's been empty three days runnin'. Thought you'd want to get started on 'em, but I see yer a bit busy." He's probing, but she's not really sure how to tell him she invited herself over.

"We're hidin'!" Andy pipes up. "And makin' pancakes."

"Andy!" Lucy laughs nervously.

Logan crouches down and picks up Andy to set him on the counter next to the stove. He grins and swings his legs, heels knocking into the cupboard door with every swing.

By way of explanation, she says, "Arvio tried to start a quartet while I was fixing some window hinges on the backside of the temple. I ducked into the school to avoid him."

"Yeah, an' Heidi wasn't there yet so Miss Jane said I could go with Lucy! An' then Heidi showed up, an' then we said hi 'n' bye, an' then we sneaked right past Arvio!" He laughs. "It ain't real hard, though. He don't see nothin'."

"Don't he?" Logan asks, arching an eyebrow at Lucy.

Lucy slides another pancake onto the platter. Andy says, "I wanted to put a stink bomb in his pocket, but Lucy said I can't." He rolls his eyes dramatically. "Ruinin' all my fun."

"I'm making you pancakes!" Lucy objects.

"Yeah, plain." Andy sticks out his tongue.

"Andy, be nice," Logan chides. "Little varmint. Whaddaya want on your flapjacks?"

Andy's eyes light up, and Logan grimaces. "Whip cream!"

"I shouldn'ta asked."

"Aw, come on! We got sandberries an' raspberries."

Logan throws up his hands. "Fine. How 'bout you, Miss Lucy?" He rests a hand between her shoulder blades as he slips past her to hang his cloak and hat on the nail by the door. "You take whipped cream on your flapjacks?" He starts to roll up his sleeves, a smile spreading over his face.

"Well, if it's an option," she teases, returning the smile.

He reaches around her, hand on her shoulder, to grab the whisk off a nail on the kitchen wall. "Scuse me," he mutters.

She nudges him with her head as he draws away. "Watch it, yakboy. Might cause a pancake incident."

He chuckles. "Wouldn't want that."

She flips the pancake and Andy cheers when it lands directly in the center of the pan. "Bullseye!" he hollers. "Do it again!"

"Gotta wait for it to cook," Lucy reminds him, much to his chagrin.

Logan starts whipping cream, and Andy cheers on Lucy's pancake efforts, and for just a second, it feels like home, when she was a little girl and her own ma and pa made supper in the kitchen while she sat at the table. Andy's cheering Logan on, Lucy's keeping an eye on Andy and the pancakes—if he wiggles any more violently, he's going to fall off—and Logan's valiantly putting up a fight with the whisk.

She only gets through two more pancakes before Logan's done with the whipped cream. "There." He runs the back of his hand over his forehead and stretches his arm. "The things I do for ya, kid, I swear. Lucy, how many you got left?"

Lucy checks the batter. "Three or four?" She pours another one in the pan. "Make that two or three."

"Alright." He grabs Andy off the counter and spins him around. Andy shrieks until Logan sets him on the floor. "Time to wash up. Go on, git."

Andy complains loudly all the way up the stairs, and when he's audibly in the bathroom, Logan leans his chin on the crown of her head. "Little varmint," he mutters. "You got him all riled up."

"I got him all riled up? You spun him around in circles." She leans back into him a little—to balance out the weight of the pancake she's trying to flip—and nudges him with her free arm. "I just made pancakes, that's all."

Logan rests an arm on each of her shoulders and hums. The way they're standing, fitted together like a snugly-mitered joint, makes his voice reverberate pleasantly through her skull. "'Preciate you makin' supper."

She leans her head onto his shoulder. "No trouble. Andy's been begging me to teach him to make more food that, and I quote, 'ain't burnt to a crisp'."

"My cookin' ain't that bad."

"He's a kid. If it's barely brown, it's burnt to a crisp."

Lucy watches the pancake bubble and pop. After a few big bursts, Logan says quietly, "My pa liked makin' pancakes, and I liked eatin' 'em, so I try to make 'em for Andy as much as I can."

"That's sweet. He's lucky to have you, you know."

He scoffs. "Ain't know what to do with him half the time, but... thanks."

An acrid, smoky tang hits Lucy's nose, and she yanks the pan off the burner. "Damn it," she mutters, sliding the pancake onto the stack. She lifts the edge of it to check the damage: it's not inedible, but it's pretty dark

Logan reaches over her shoulder and plucks at the hot pancake. "Guess that one's mine," he says with a smirk.

"Sorry. I was doing fine until you came and menaced my kitchen."

Logan laughs. "Your kitchen?"

She tries to hip-check him away from the stove, but he's about as movable as a stubborn yakmel. "It is if I'm cooking in it."

"That ain't how that works," he says with an amused smirk. "I'll have ya know I can cook a mean flapjack."

"I've heard about your flapjacks," she says. "And from what I've heard, mean is a pretty accurate way to describe your cooking."

"Ha, ha. Come on, I'll show you." He reaches for the pan, and she shoulders him away.

"No way! You'll burn them." She laughs as she slides the second to last pancake on the platter. "You know what, fine." She pours the last of the batter into the pan and steps aside with a flourish, bowing dramatically. "Have at it."

Logan stands over the pancake, watching it diligently. Lucy folds her arms over her chest, and he starts to glance at her. After a minute or so, she realizes he's watching her to see when he should flip the pancake... and he's doing a terrible job of it. The top of the pancake is all bubbles, and she's pretty sure the pan's going to start smoking any second when he finally flicks his wrist and lands the pancake slightly off-center.

"Damn," he mutters. "Lost my touch."

"Hey, it's pretty close to a bullseye."

"Naw, look." He points to a spot near the edge of the blackened pancake that's still golden yellow. "Ain't burnt all the way across."

Lucy steps up to him as boldly as a challenge. "I knew it. You're a menace on purpose."

Logan puts up his hands in surrender. "Man's gotta know what he likes. Y'know, in a flapjack."

"Is that so?"

He's standing over her, electric blue eyes boring into her. She could do it, she thinks. It's not a new thought, but Andy's upstairs, and she could do it.

There's a clatter on the stairs, and then Andy groans from the doorway. "Aw, didja finish the rest without me?"

Logan clears his throat and grabs the pan to slide the overdone pancake on the top of the stack.

"Sorry, buddy," Lucy says. "The good news is, they're done and we can eat. Can you help me set the table?" While she gets plates and Andy gets cutlery, Logan brings the food to the table. Lucy puts thoughts of the Blue Moon and his lips on hers from her mind. Get it together, she chides herself. It was one kiss, it was a whole week ago, and it was for show.

It doesn't escape her notice that Logan only serves himself two pancakes and a sprinkling of pecans from a tin he's found somewhere. Andy, predictably, shovels sandberries on top of his three pancakes, and loads up on whipped cream, too.

"Thiff iff fo coo'," Andy says around a mouthful of food.

"Andy," Logan chides. "Don't talk with food in your mouth."

Andy rolls his eyes and, after a few seconds, says, "I'm just sayin' it's real cool that Lucy makes fluffy pancakes that ain't burnt!"

"Most of them," Lucy mutters, glancing at Logan. He's watching Andy, a fond smile on his face, although he hasn't quite started in on his own yet. His smile spreads a little when he catches her staring.

The window rattles, and Lucy turns to look outside, instantly on edge. If it's Arvio again—but it's just the wind... and a wall of sand. The chimney shrieks, and they all look up for a moment. Well, at least they're all inside for the night, and—

"Logan," she says urgently. "Rambo?"

He frowns at the plate, then looks up at her. "Hm? Oh, I ain't worried about him."

"If you need somewhere to stable him, you can put him up with Merle at my place."

He blinks at her over his food and shakes his head. "Naw, he'll be at Coop's already, makin' friends with the camels. He's got a nose for storms."

"Yeah! Rambo's why we ain't never been caught in a sandstorm afore," Andy says proudly.

"Well, not never."

Andy shrugs. "Close enough." He heaves a contented sigh and slouches back in his chair. "Aw, man, that was so good. We oughta do this every day! Lucy'n pick me up from school, we can get real good at sneakin' away from Arvio, and I'll get so good at flippin' pancakes!"

"Andy—" Logan starts, at the same time Lucy says, "Maybe not every day."

She exchanges a look with Logan; he's got a furrow between his pale eyebrows and his mouth is set in a firm line. "I don't mind picking him up," she explains. "Especially if I'm going to hang out with him later anyway."

Logan looks back at Andy. "We'll talk about it."

Andy sinks further into his chair, pouting. "I promise I'll be good! And if you wanna take a nap again, you can use my extra bed. It's real comfy!"

"A nap?" Logan asks.

Lucy shrugs. "I might have dozed off for a few minutes waiting for Andy to finish his homework earlier."

Logan shoots Lucy a sharp look, then says to Andy, "If you're done with your supper, you can be excused to go bathe."

"Aw, what?" Andy whines. "I don't wanna bathe!"

"You know the rule. Go on, git."

He makes a show of climbing the stairs as if it's the worst thing he's ever been asked to do.

As soon as Andy's upstairs, Logan drops his fork with a clatter and runs his hands over his face. "Light," he mutters. "That boy."

Lucy chuckles. "Come on, he's a good kid."

"He is, but he's... a lot like I was when I was his age." Logan pushes away his plate, even though he's eaten maybe half a pancake.

"Aren't you going to finish?" Lucy asks.

"Ain't real hungry," Logan says with a shrug.

Lucy frowns. She's not sure she's ever seen Logan eat a full meal, even when they go out to the Blue Moon. "Logan, you've been out on patrol all day. Don't ask me to believe you're not hungry."

"Fine. I... lost my appetite," he mutters. "Ain't had flapjacks like this in years. Not since—" He folds his hands together and jams his thumbs in to pinch the bridge of his nose.

Lucy reaches across the table and squeezes his arm briefly. "I can make something else."

He takes a deep breath and puts his hand over hers to squeeze it. "I'm good. Thanks." He studies the table top for a while. His hand's still on hers when he fixes her with a pensive frown and asks, "What'd Andy mean ‘bout Arvio? Y'all snuck past him outta the school?"

"We... may have made a game of sneaking around him while he was arguing with his impromptu singing group." She's not entirely proud of it, but it was better than making a scene. "He's been getting the tourists to play along. I'm not sure what yakshit he's feeding them, but they seem to be enjoying it."

"Did he hang ‘round outside the house?"

Lucy shrugs. "I'm surprised you didn't see him when you came in. Every time we looked, he was out there."

Logan doesn't say anything. His hand drops away from hers, but the furrow between his brow remains.

"I'm glad he's gone, at least," she says, folding her arms over her chest. "We might have tried to make a break for my house, but he doesn't bang on your windows trying to get me to come out and talk to him."

"He did what now?"

"He's only done it before sunrise a few times, thankfully."

"Lucy," Logan snaps. He's got both hands splayed on the table, fingertips pale as moonlight against the worn wood grain.

She winces and shuts up. Obviously, she's said too much. She asked him to help scare Arvio off, not listen to her complain about his antics. "Sorry," she says quietly.

He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. As he exhales, he asks, "What else ain't ya told me about?"

"Not much... He's just a nuisance, mostly."

"What. Else." Logan's fingers press into the table, as if he's trying to sink his claws into something.

"He tried to tag along when Andy and I went fishing the other day. Said it was a nice day for a picnic or something. Merle's quick on her feet, though, and we took the long way around by the tracks."

Logan frowns. "You took the back path down through the huntin' grounds?"

Lucy winces. "We kept moving, and they didn't seem interested in us anyway. It was the only way we were going to get any peace."

"You asked for my help," he sighs, scrubbing a hand over his face. "I can't be a shield if you ain't tellin' me what's gettin' past."

"I asked for your help because I thought he'd get over it after a few days. I didn't mean for it to drag out like this." The more she thinks about it, the more she realizes it really wasn't fair for her to expect Logan to save her for this long.

"A few days, a few years, it's no trouble. Long as you need me, I'm here. I owe you a debt I ain't sure I'll ever repay."

It's a sweet thought, but it doesn't excuse her inaction. It's been three weeks. It's time for her to woman up and face Arvio on her own, like a big girl. She pushes her chair out. "Let me help with the dishes and then I'll get out of your hair."

The wind rattles the windows as if to remind her there's a sandstorm outside. "You can't go out in that," Logan says seriously.

Lucy waves him off as she stacks Andy's plate on hers. "I'll be fine. It's not that far. Aren't you going to eat?"

"It's more than half a mile and dark out. What if ya get lost?"

She leaves his plate where it is and takes the other dishes into the kitchen to wash up. "I'm pretty sure I can find my way from your house to mine in my sleep," she jokes over her shoulder. "Seriously. I'll be alright."

There's a scrape of a chair against the floor, then the muted clatter of cutlery on a plate followed by bootsteps. Logan appears next to her and sets his plate next to the sink. "I got a spare bed upstairs. I'll sleep in Andy's room and you can have mine."

"I'm not going to put you out of your bed, Logan."

"Fine, you can sleep in Andy's room if that's what you want. Just—storms like this are real dangerous, 'specially at night. Sandrock's lost too many folk to sandstorms. Don't be one of 'em. We can't afford to lose ya."

Lucy holds his gaze, considering. She wants to go home to her bed, in her own house, where she can raise the wall and lock the doors. A sandstorm might be the only time she can really count on Arvio leaving her alone.

"Please. The walk across the tracks ain't a joke."

She caves, throwing her hands up in defeat. Without a good look at wind patterns, there's no way to know if this storm's been blunted by the Little Woods. "Fine. I'll stay." He's right, really. The people who've been lost to sandstorms are people he knew, and she doesn't think it's really fair to make him worry about her just because she's feeling choosy about sleeping arrangements.

"Thank you," Logan says quietly. He holds out his hand. "Alright, now since you cooked, lemme clean up." He takes the rag from her and nudges her out of the way with his elbow.

"Do you want me to, uh—" She looks around the kitchen. It's pretty clean, aside from the pan and the bowl she'd used to cook, which he's already dunking into the washwater.

"Naw, you just make yourself comfortable. I'll have this washed up in a jiff."

Lucy meanders out of the kitchen just as Andy bursts out of the bathroom.

"Ha! Ain't a shower alive can defeat a bandit like me!" Andy stumbles down the stairs, hair still wet and pajamas wrinkled. He kicks and punches the air all the way into the living room. "I surviiiiived!"

Lucy chuckles and ruffles his hair, then grimaces when it comes away wet. She's about to wipe the water on her pants when she catches a whiff of something decidedly green. Now that he's not such a wild blur, she thinks his hair might look a little off-color, too. "Andy, come here a second. Hold still." She inspects his hair, nose wrinkling when she picks dark flecks away from his scalp. "What is in your hair?"

"Huh?" Andy puts his hand up to check, and she puts her fingers where he can see the junk she's picked out of his hair. "Aw, yeah, it does that sometimes."

"Logan," Lucy calls. "Where's your water tank?"

"Why?" Logan calls back. There's a clatter and a splash, and he appears in the doorway to the kitchen.

"Andy's got grime in his hair, and I don't think it was there before he bathed."

Logan winces. "It ain't nothin'. Just the filter actin' up."

Lucy puts her hands on her hips. "Under the stairs?" she guesses.

"Yeah, but—"

"Are you asking me, the Sandrock Commerce Guild's number one builder two years running, to ignore a machine in need of repair?"

"I'm askin' my house guest not to do any more work than she's already done for the day," Logan corrects tersely.

"Andy, do you want to learn how to fix a water filter?"

"Well," Andy drawls. "Is it percussive maintenance?"

Lucy laughs. "What? Where'd you hear that?"

"I heard Yan sayin' it a bunch. Then he'd hit the machine with a wrench or somethin'."

"Oh, boy. Uh, we might need some percussive maintenance, but we probably just need to clean the filter." At Logan's frown, she tells Andy, "You probably just need to clean the filter."

Andy takes her to the closet under the stairs where the water tank and the filtration system are. It's a pretty small tank, but serviceable for three or four people. Unfortunately, it's only half full and the light on the filter is blinking red.

Logan goes back into the kitchen with a grunt and Lucy walks Andy through checking the filter. The water in the tank is getting too low to warrant backwashing the sand, but a tin bucket and a skimmer spoon get the filter clean enough to last a few more days until they can either replace the sand or refill the tank. Andy puts the sand core lid back on tight and, because he did such a good job following instructions, she lets him smack it with the spoon for good measure. Percussive maintenance, indeed.

He takes the spoon and brandishes it all through the living room and into the kitchen. Logan's finished with the dishes, and Lucy listens to the filter pump run as it cleans the dishwater. When she's satisfied the filter's filth level isn't going to ruin the motor, she pushes the door shut, noting that she has to lift it a little to get it into the jamb because the hinges are starting to strip out of the doorframe.

"You didn't have to do that," Logan says.

"Do what? Andy did it all by himself. I just gave him a couple of pointers." Lucy gives him an innocent look and drops into an armchair.

Andy runs back in from the kitchen and launches himself at her. She wrinkles her nose—his hair still smells like dirty water—and pats his back. "You're the coolest," he says into her shoulder. "You gonna show me how to do the locks next, like ya promised?"

"Sorry, buddy. I did them the other day while you were at school. Next time I do a lock job, I'll try to wait for you."

Logan sits gingerly in the chair opposite her. "The locks, huh?"

"I just had slip chains," she admits. "I figured it was probably time to install actual locks." She puts up a hand. "Don't worry, I won't teach him how to pick them."

Andy groans. "Aw, no fair!"

Logan doesn't seem to find the joke funny. "Sneakin', door locks, cookin'... What else is Lucy fixin' to teach ya?"

"Everything!" He cranes his neck up at her. "Hey, didja git any more presents today?"

"Nope."

"Aw, dang. The bunny was so cute. I was hopin' ya'd get another one so I could have it."

Andy shifts on her lap, knee digging into her stomach and making her cough. "Sorry!" he squeaks. "We need a couch. Ain't enough room."

"Well, it's a shame you don't know anyone who's good at building," she jokes. "But maybe, if you close your eyes and wish really hard, the Couch Fairy will surprise you the next chance she gets."

Logan clears his throat. "Andy, laundry in the tub, and then it's time to hit the sack."

The boy burrows into Lucy's chest. "But I'm comfy."

"You were just complainin' about the chair."

"I got it figured out," Andy mumbles.

"Hey," she says in a stage whisper. "Maybe you can talk Logan into letting me bunk with you tonight. You know, 'cause of the storm."

Andy perks up at that. "Can we?" he asks, shaking with excitement. "Aw, c'mon, Logan, I'll be real good and go right to sleep. Pleeeease?"

Logan rolls his eyes. "Yeah, ain't like we already planned that or nothin'."

"Yesss!" Andy jumps up off Lucy's lap, grabs her hand, and starts pulling her up out of the chair. "C'mon, you can have the other bed, an' I got an extra pillow 'n' blanket, an' if ya get scared it's okay 'cause I ain't scared a nothin'."

"Andy. Laundry." Logan's voice is sharp enough to cut steel, and Andy hightails it up the stairs. As soon as the door squeaks, Logan says quietly, "D'you not trust me?"

Lucy doesn't get a chance to answer, because the squeak of the door is echoed by the louder squeak of a little boy, flying right back down the stairs. "Logan!" he shouts as he nearly bodyslams the wall. "Logan, the window!"

Logan's out of his chair, hand on his pistol, before Lucy remembers which window Andy's talking about.

Shit.

Logan's halfway up the stairs before he fully processes what Andy's said. He's half-drawn, thumb on the safety, ready to defend his home and his family from whatever's burst through the window. Andy's ahead of him, and when he reaches for the door, Logan snaps, "Andy, don't!"

Andy looks over his shoulder, hand on the doorknob. His eyes flick down to Logan's holster, and his head tilts a little, then he rolls his eyes. "It ain't a monster, just a real big mess."

Logan tenses reflexively as Andy pushes the door open, then lets out a huff of relief when there's nothing in Andy's room except a whirlwind of clutter. The window has one busted pane and a few more rattling noisily as the wind beats against them. He keeps his pistol ready, just in case, while he digs through the sand with his boot and checks just outside the window. If it was broken open on purpose, he don't see hide nor hair of whatever's done it. Loose papers flutter around the room, and sand has already accumulated in little piles all over the desk, the shelves, and the spare bed. What's more, there's broken glass all over the mattress and on the floor next to it, half buried under the sand. Even if they get the window patched up, that bed's not fit to be slept in till it's been gone over with a fine-toothed comb, if ever.

He holsters his weapon. "Son of a boxin' jack."

"I'm sorry," Lucy blurts out behind him. "I'll fix it. I'm so sorry. I thought we fixed it well enough after—"

Logan turns to her. She's white as a sheet behind her hands, babbling like a starby.

"It was when you were still, you know, out of town. I didn't know anything about you, and Elsie was so sure there were clues in here, so we sort of, you know..."

Logan steps toward her so he's close enough to loom a little, fighting off a laugh. "This ‘bout the time you broke in?"

She looks up at him, and the worry is so plain on her face when she nods that he can't help but let her off the hook with nothing more than a smirk. Maybe he's gotten too good at hiding his true thoughts while he was playing at banditry.

"I ain't mad. I'da done the same thing in your boots."

"I am sor—"

"You broke in?" Andy crows. "Like a real bandit?! Aw, man, I knew we was right to make ya parta the gang! Can I help ya next time?"

Logan reminds himself to teach the boy some tact next chance he gets.

"I only trespass if a previously upstanding member of the community unexpectedly goes rogue, so hopefully there won't be a next time."

Andy pouts and kicks at the sand. "Aw, no fair."

"Hardly upstanding," Logan mutters. He tucks a bit of her hair behind her ear with the rest. "I'm glad ya told me anyhow. I really ain't mad, if you were wonderin'."

"Thanks."

"C'mon, Andy, let's get the broom and the bucket." To Lucy, he adds, "Use whatever you need to fix the window."

Her face is the pretty pink of a sunset, and she nods. "I'll have it fixed in no time."

Andy shuffles out of the room slower than Logan's ever seen someone shuffle.

"You heard her. Git a move on."

"I'm goin', sheesh." He glances back at the broken window, then at Lucy.

"Actually, I could use an extra pair of hands. Do you want to help me?"

Logan wants to be annoyed that she's giving in to his theatrics, but the way he perks up when she asks for his help is worth a hundred broken windows. "Guess I'm gettin' the bucket myself. Holler when y'all are done with the window, will ya?"

He stamps the sand off his boots and makes his way back downstairs. He's starting to reconsider pressing her about Arvio when he knew she was gonna be trapped here with him. It might be the only way to get real answers out of her, but it feels cheap, using the storm to make her talk. He's sure she can protect herself, if she really needs to—she's a hunter and a ruin diver—but he wants her to feel like she don't have to hide things from him.

He wants to be the one to protect her.

Fuck.

He grabs the plate he left on the counter and lets his mind wander as he eats. She's right, he's gotta eat more. It ain't like when they were out in the desert and he needed to leave some behind to make sure Andy or Haru got enough. Sandrock's no land of plenty just yet, but it's a damn sight better than a cave in the Eufaula.

Other than the initial moment of panic at finding the lights on, coming home to Lucy and Andy in the kitchen had been... nice. Moments where he and Andy and Haru relaxed together and felt like a family had been few and far between, as hard to come by as clean socks. He's had a wealth of those—the moments and the socks both—since all this started, but like everything, it's full of hidden blades. Lucy made herself at home in his kitchen because a shopkeeper thought he could harass her for the third week running.

He knows she's trying to hide just how bad it is, but he ain't stupid. She damn near jumped out of her skin when the storm rattled the window, and again when Andy came out of his room hollering about the other window. That she's spooked by a rattle is one thing, but then she'd admitted to being woken up before sunrise by banging on her window. And that was just the beginning.

It's one thing to bring somebody flowers or food or the like; a live rabbit is a whole other can of sandworms entirely. It ain't like she has a hutch, so he'd either left it unprotected in her yard, or let it loose in her house. He'd seen Elsie carrying a rabbit one day, scratching it between its floppy ears; when asked, she'd just said she was taking the little fella home.

At the time, he'd figured the animal had run off, but now that he thinks about it, she'd been headed pretty much straight from Lucy's workshop. That, plus Andy's excitement at the possibility of another one, and Lucy's hurry to change the locks... the critter can't have been anywhere else. Hard to keep somebody out if you can't lock the doors behind you. And she'd been spooked enough to fix that problem without waiting for Andy, no matter how excited he was to help her.

He peeks out the kitchen window, leaning over his empty plate. The storm's too thick to even see the light from Mi-an's house just across the way—if she's even home. Her yard's been near silent these last few weeks, but her light still comes on each night.

Don't do nothin' rash, he tells himself, but threatening the kid who's been harassing the town's most respected craftsmaster for three weeks can hardly be considered rash. The way the storm's blowing out there, he's like to get lost, even if the way from here to Arvio's is surrounded mostly by buildings.

He pulls his hand away from the doorknob. He can't go off into the storm after telling her she has to stay put, and he can't put himself at risk for petty revenge. Not when he's got a kid to look after. Arvio can wait, and so can his fury. He can get more information from her, though. She's softening the truth for him, and he's either going to find out why, or find out the truth. If he's lucky, he might find both, but he ain't holding his breath.

He goes back to the kitchen, scrubs his plate off in the sink, and sets the dishes in the rack to dry. There's still an awful lot of banging going on upstairs. Muffled, because Lucy had the presence of mind to close the door against more sand getting all over the house. Logan takes the broom upstairs and sweeps the landing, then sweeps his room for good measure, and then digs around in the closets for some extra blankets.

The hammering stops, but the door to Andy's room remains closed. Logan grabs the broom and raises his hand to knock on the door when he hears Andy whine, "Aw, pleeeease?"

"Andy, we're done."

He knocks once and then pushes the door open. The room is still untidy and filthy with sand, but the window is boarded up with—

"I s'pose I did say use anythin' you needed." He nods to the mattress that's leaned against the wall with the headboard and footboard. "Awful big patch for such a little break."

"Aw, man, it was crazy! Lucy tried ta put a blanket over the hole an' nail it down, but when she started tappin', the one next to it cracked! An' then another one! An' she was so dang fast, except the window kept on crackin'! An' then I had ta hold the blanket over the window while Lucy took apart the bed and put the boards on over the blanket so the glass and the sand ain't gonna get in and then I figured we could make it even stronger if we put boards goin' the other way so I said we should take apart the desk too but she said we ain't takin' apart nothin' else but we really could!"

Logan eyes the blanket that peeks out from behind the boards. What if the window had held another hour? Two? The shards of glass he'd found among the sand hadn't gone far from the window, but the wind's picked up since then. If the window had shattered under that kind of pressure—wind and razor-sharp bits of broken glass—no way to get to the clinic in this weather—

He shakes himself. Nobody's hurt. They got lucky—this time. "That is... quite the story, kid." He ruffles Andy's hair. "Y'all did good. Can't even hear the wind whistlin'."

"Yeah, 'cause we used a blanket to dampen the sound!" He looks at the sand pile where the bed used to be and frowns. "Aw, man. Now where ya gonna sleep, Lucy?"

Logan leans the broom against the wall and grabs Andy's blanket to shake the sand out of it. "Don't you worry 'bout that. You gotta get to sleep." He looks around at the mess and sighs. "We can clean this up tomorrow. It's gettin' late."

Andy climbs into bed and lets Logan settle the blanket over him. "Night, Logan."

"Night, Andy." He ruffles Andy'shair. "Sweet dreams, kid."

Lucy flicks the light off, a soft smile on her lips.

"Lucy?" Andy says in a small voice.

"Yeah, buddy?"

"You ever tucked somebody in before?"

"Hmm. Can't say I have," she says, trading places with Logan. "I think I can figure it out, though. My ma used to tuck me in when I was little. Let's see if I can remember how she did it." She starts to tuck the blanket in around Andy's feet. "I think you start with the feet, and just work your way up like this." When she gets to his arms, she tucks the blanket around him and says, "And then, I think you finish off with a hug. Sound about right?"

Andy nods.

She gives him a hug, and he wraps his arms around her. "Goodnight, Andy." After a couple of seconds, she clears her throat. "Andy?"

"Night, Lucy," he mumbles, finally letting her go. The light's not great, but the kid looks ready to cry. Logan never made a habit of tucking him in, but then Andy never asked. It's never occurred to him Andy might miss things like that—things Logan has no idea about, because it never comes up.

She lets out a long sigh when she pulls the door closed behind her, and he turns, one foot on the stairs. She gives him a tired smile. "He's such a happy kid," she says quietly, ambling toward the stairs. "I forget what he's been through."

"He don't talk about 'em much. I dunno how much of that is 'cause of what happened, and how much is 'cause he was so young." Logan turns to her at the end of the stairs and holds out a hand; even though there's a perfectly good railing, she takes it with a soft smile. "Can't do for ‘im what I don't know he needs."

"You're doing really well so far," she says, squeezing his hand.

"What about you?" he asks when she lets go of his hand to settle into the armchair. "From what ya told me up to now, I oughta go pay the shopkeeper a visit when this storm clears up."

Lucy blanches. "Don't. Please."

"Why in hell not? He broke into your house multiple times. And if y'ain't gonna take this to Justice—"

"I said don't, Logan. He's nothing more than a nuisance. I can handle him. You think I haven't dealt with man-children in my way before?"

"This ain't just some fly buzzin' 'round your hat, darlin'. You think I ain't seen you gettin' jumpy?"

"That doesn't mean I want you to rough him up!"

"I ain't said nothin' about roughin' him up! I jus' wanna talk to him." Logan's fists clench.

"Just talk? I'm surprised you didn't go off and have at him while Andy and I were fixing the window."

Logan grits his teeth. "Can't say I didn't think about it, but I ain't keen on gettin' hauled away in a storm."

"And what about hauled away for murder? Or even just assault? You have a gun, Logan. Free Cities law says you'd be locked up for months, at least." She lowers her voice to add in a whisper as harsh as a desert wind, "What would that mean for Andy?"

That wind buffets him right back into his chair, slumping in defeat. She's right, of course, like she always is. "Fine," he says tiredly.

"Your word, Logan. You won't go after Arvio for any of this."

Logan nods and says through his teeth, "My word. I won't get violent with him 'less you tell me to."

"Thank you."

"But I don't wanna keep guessin' on what he's been up to. If I don't know what's goin' on, I'm gonna have to fill in the gaps, and it ain't gonna be pretty." Before she can start, he holds up a hand. "And don't tell me it ain't that bad. If I'm gonna be the shield an' not the blade, I gotta know what's on the other side."

It's a rough start. She tries to skip over things she thinks he knows, but there's a lot she ain't told him, so he makes her start over and tell him everything, even if she's told him before. While she talks, he takes out his knife and a piece of rabbit femur and starts to whittle it down. It ain't as good for clearing his mind as a round of sparring or a hard ride through the desert, but it keeps him sane as he listens to the mile-long list of insane yakshit she's been dealing with.

She says something he almost doesn't catch; it ain't the words that get his attention, but the broken way she says them. "I've been putting my pistol in the side table at night."

His head snaps up and he sets the knife and the bone aside. "You what now?"

"I know it probably won't do me much good," she adds. "But I couldn't sleep even with the doors locked, and all I could think about was waking up to—" She's sobbing now, words and tears rushing out of her like a burst pipe.

He surprises even himself how softly he says, "C'mon, come here."

She sniffles as she gets up, and she gets that look on her face like she's gonna brush this one off, too, until he holds out a hand. She falls into him with a sob, and he settles her against him, arms around her. He's gonna murder Arvio for this. He's gonna wait till she gives him the okay, 'cause he's a man of his word, and then he's gonna go to that damn little trinket shop and flay that little shit alive.

"I'm sorry," she whispers between hiccups. What for, she doesn't say, but Logan's past caring about trifles like that.

He leans his cheek against the top of her head and rubs her shoulder a little. "Ain't nothin' to be sorry for. You ain't done nothin' wrong, darlin'."

"Why me?"

He sweeps the hair away from her face and adjusts his arms a little more snugly around her. "I don't know," he says, and it's the truth. He can't tell her the answer, because the answer's as simple and as complex as the desert. Arvio's a little shit, is the simple answer. But why her, and not somebody else? What the kid's done's about the furthest thing from an alright way to admire somebody, but Logan ain't gonna deny there's plenty worth admiring in her. "But I'll always be here, whatever ya need."

Her fingertips over his heart startle him a little. "Sorry," she says quietly. "Got your shirt wet."

He tightens his arms around her. "I don't mind none."

She sniffles, and curls a little further into herself. "Thanks. I'm still not putting you out of a bed, though."

"Not like I ain't used to roughin' it. I can sleep on the floor. No trouble."

"You shouldn't have to sleep on the floor in your own house, Logan. Especially when it's my fault there's not an extra bed."

"It's lookin' like I do need a sofa, then," he jokes. "Sleep on it, instead of the floor."

"You're too damn tall for a sofa. Obviously, I'd sleep on the sofa. If you had one."

"Well, I don't, so it looks like we're at an impasse, darlin'."

She hums, then sits up and props herself up with an elbow on the arm of the chair. "I'm not opposed to sharing."

"I... reckon I ain't either. That bed ain't real big, though."

Lucy shrugs. "Neither am I. Besides, it's this or we both sleep on the floor."

"I said I ain't lettin' ya sleep on the floor."

"It's settled then." She covers a yawn with her hand, and her head crashes forward into his shoulder. She shifts her leg and hisses. "One second. I think my leg fell asleep."

"I gotcha." Logan gets one arm around her back and the other under her knees, and gets to his feet in one smooth motion. She lets out a little squeak and clings to his neck. She's small, but he still expected her to weigh more, with all the running around and smashing rocks she does. In fact, he could've sworn she weighed more the last time he carried her inside. Even accounting for the dead weight, he's surprised how much lighter she is. He tries to remember how much she ate at supper, but he can't rightly recall. He can't prove it's that damn fool's fault, but anger flares in his chest anyway.

He carries her up the stairs, and deposits her on the bed he's only now realizing is a rumpled mess. He reaches around her and tries to straighten the blanket out a little, but it's twisted up and his efforts are useless.

"It's okay," she says. "I never make mine either."

He steps back and glances down at himself. His hat and cloak are downstairs, but he's still mostly dressed, and now she's in here. "D'you need the washroom?"

She winces and shakes her foot off the edge of the bed. "Uh, you go first. Still got prickles in my toes."

He doesn't take long—it's getting real late, and he doesn't have much to do anyway—and by the time he gets back, she's dressed down to a soft cotton shirt and linen trousers. Her other gear is stacked neatly by the door, and she's straightening out the blanket. "I've... got an extra shirt, if you don't wanna sleep in those."

She looks down at herself and surreptitiously sniffs at her shirt. "That might be a good idea." He takes her upstairs, shuffling in his closet for a second before he pulls out a long button up shirt. It's probably one of the only things he's got that'll work, though with its size, it'll look more like a dress. It's also, importantly, not Howlett's. He doesn't think he could handle seeing that, no matter the context. She takes it without comment, though her cheeks take on a renewed blush.

She ducks out of the room, and Logan dresses down like he's on fire, till he's in an undershirt and his sleeping trousers. His gear, except the belt, is tossed haphazardly into the back corner. As always, he loops the belt over the bedpost, keeping his gun within easy reach. He grabs an extra blanket and sets it at the foot of the bed, then sits on the edge just as she comes back in.

"You're really tall," she giggles. "But thanks." She sets her other clothes on top of the stack of gear and tugs at the hem of the shirt. It falls nearly to her knees, but she's still pulling at it as if she's self-conscious. Knowing what he knows now—

He drops his eyes to the floor. "Any time," he says. "Uh, I got an extra blanket, if ya need it."

She sits on the edge of the bed next to him and gives him a soft smile. "I think I'll be alright. You run hotter than an industrial furnace. I'd have frozen last week up on your roof otherwise."

He realizes at this exact moment that he has no idea how two fully-grown adults are supposed to fit into a single bed, even if one of them is petite.

"Do you want the wall or the edge?" she asks before he can broach the subject.

"I reckon I can take the wall if you ain't afraid of fallin' out." If the choice is between her potentially falling two feet to the floor, and her almost definitely waking up trapped against the wall—well, she's had enough feeling trapped lately, he reckons.

"Don't worry about me. I haven't fallen out of bed since I was six." She gets up to turn the lights out, and he climbs under the blanket, cramming himself against the wall to give her as much space as he can.

It's dark, the only light a trickle leaking in around the door, and he hears her find the bed with her shin as she gets in. He puts his arm up so she can find him without accidentally putting her hand in his face or something, and after some shifting and shuffling, she settles as far away as she can, which isn't saying much. As his eyes adjust to the darkness, he can just make out her silhouette.

"This alright?" he asks the vaguely-shaped void.

"Yeah. You?" the void asks back.

"Yeah. G'night, Lucy."

"Night, Logan."

It's been a hell of a day—feels more like two or three by now—and it doesn't take him long to slide toward sleep. He startles awake once with a gasp, a sensation like falling yanking him back up toward waking, and then he's one with oblivion.

Since his pa died, he's had mighty trouble sleeping. Between living on the run, hunting in the desert, and nightmares, he hasn't had a good night's sleep in years. But when he wakes up in the soft light of early morning with his arms around her, he feels rested.

She shifts, and he lets go of her. "Hey," she mumbles, pulling the blanket around her and giving him a sleepy smile. She blinks slowly, then lets out a yawn. "Sleep okay?"

"Yeah, pretty well, all things considered."

She pulls the blanket up to her nose and mumbles. "Sorry."

"Naw, don't be like that. You sleep alright?"

She nods. Her eyes flick over his face, searching for something, though he doesn't know what. Eventually, she shifts closer to him and tucks herself under his arm.

He's just about to ask her what her aim is when a cry echoes through the wall, rising in volume and pitch until it's an abject wail. He's up and over Lucy before he can think twice about it. He trips over the edge of the blanket and nearly eats the floorboards, but he manages to catch himself and get into the next room without any real catastrophe.

Andy's not even properly awake yet, still tucked under his blanket. Logan scoops him up, blanket and all, and wraps his arms around the boy, holding him close. It's been a long time since Andy's had night terrors, but Logan remembers more than a few nights just like this one. Kid's been through hell, even if he acts like everything's fine.

"Andy, you're alright, kid," he mutters in Andy's ear. "C'mon, you're okay." The screams subside into sobs, then into sniffles as Andy struggles awake.

Lucy appears in the doorway, blanket over her shoulders like an oversized poncho. She looks worried, but Logan ain't really sure how to explain it to her. He ain't sure he can.

Andy clings to Logan as his sniffles taper off, too; now that he's not trying to pull the boy out of the terrors, Logan sits on the bed with him. Lucy tiptoes closer to sit next to them, and when she's adjusted the blanket around her, Andy crawls off Logan's lap and onto hers.

"Hi there. You okay, buddy?"

He doesn't answer, just burrows into the blanket with her.

"He'll be alright," Logan says quietly. "Happens sometimes. Doc says it's to be expected, after everythin' the boy's been through."

Lucy runs her fingers through Andy's hair and sways back and forth, humming a tune. Eventually, Andy heaves a big sigh and slides off her lap.

His face turns beet red. "I ain't no baby," he mumbles.

"No, you're very grown up and very brave. But it's okay to need comfort after a bad dream." She reaches out and ruffles his hair, and the boy gives her a sheepish smile on his way out of the room. "I should get to work," she tells Logan. "Thanks for putting me up for the night. And for putting up with me."

"I told you, ain't no trouble."

Andy jumps over an ultra tripion and lands in a three-point stance, scaring off a pack of mega geeglers coming up the street. He fires at 'em with his finger pistols as they run away, then runs after a two-headed boxing jack with knife hands. He comes back toward the house to chase off a starby, and then checks if Logan's done getting Rambo ready yet.

"When're ya gonna take me out with ya?" Andy asks. "I ain't a baby, ya know."

Logan buckles the saddlebags onto Rambo's saddle. "When you're older, Andy. We talked about this."

Andy huffs. "Fine. When ya gonna teach me to shoot, then?"

"You ain't shootin' till you got a few more years of school under your belt, kid." Logan checks Rambo's saddle straps one last time, then pats the goat's muzzle.

Andy follows Logan to the door. "But what if we get invaded by mega geeglers? What about the rockyena uprisin'? Or a rabid yakmel stampede!"

Logan laughs as he locks the door. He thinks Andy's joking, but he's really serious.

"What if it happens when yer out in the desert an' I gotta help Lucy save the town, huh?"

"Andy," Logan says. He's using his scary voice, but Andy ain't scared. "I said what I said. Drop it."

Andy scowls at him, then turns and takes his frustration out on a glop monster down the street. It's immune to his finger pistols, of course, but that's alright. He's got a grenade launcher.

"Hi, Andy!" Jasmine calls as she skips up the street toward him.

Andy holsters his finger pistols and his grenade launcher and grins at her. "Hey, Jasmine."

"I'm going to go see Cooper's baby bunnies. They're so cute and fluffy. Do you want to come with me?"

Aw, man. Baby bunnies are really cute. He's about to ask Logan if he can go see the bunnies, but then he sees Lucy wave at him from down by the station. "Uh, I can't right now. Logan's goin' on a hunt, and then I'm gonna help Lucy around town. Y'know how it is."

Jasmine tilts her head at him and gives him a funny look. "Oh. Okay. Have fun!" Jasmine skips off, and Andy waves back at Lucy.

He's such a good shot that he don't have to look to whip out a finger pistol and shoot a bramble monster that's rolling up to him. He's barely even thinking about that, anyway, 'cause he just turned down baby bunnies to go hang out with a grownup.

"Andy?" Logan asks. He's looking at him like he's waiting for something.

Aw, crud. "I think I'm in love with her," Andy blurts out. Crud!

Logan's eyebrow goes up like it does when Andy gets the jump on him. "Who, Jasmine?"

Andy snorts. "Uh, no. Lucy, dum-dum."

Logan's other eyebrow goes up, too. "Ain't she a little old for ya?"

Lucy's closing in, and Andy's gonna run outta time. "Nah, it ain't like that." She's walking toward him, and if he don't get an answer outta Logan, he's gonna have to think about it to himself the whole time Logan's gone, and it's gonna drive him crazy. He lowers his voice so she won't hear him, and says as quick as he can, "Do you think it's okay to fall in love with somebody after you lose your parents? 'Cause you're like my pa now, and she's kinda like my ma, but I ain't never gonna see my parents again anyway, so maybe—"

Logan drops into a crouch in front of him, one hand on Andy's shoulder. "Andy. You love who you love. Y'ain't always been my kid, butcha are now, and that ain't changin'. If Lucy feels about you the same way I do, all you gotta do is ask her about it."

"Ask me about what?" Lucy asks.

A huge bramble monster jumps right down Andy's throat and clogs up his voice, and another one's homing in between them. Andy ain't got space for a rifle or time to line up a shot, so he launches himself at her, throwing his arms around her waist.

Lucy coughs and pats Andy's hair. "Hey, buddy. You okay?"

"Yeah." He squeezes her till she coughs again, and then he ducks away from her, pulling on her arm. "C'mon! We're losin' daylight."

"He's right," Logan sighs. "Y'all don't hafta walk all that way, y'know."

"I've got work to do on that side of town anyway." Lucy shrugs.

Andy lets go of Lucy's hand and dashes to Grandma Vivi's porch. "Hey, Grandma!"

"Hi, honey. Good day today?" she asks with a smile.

"Yeah. Logan's gotta go huntin' so Lucy's stayin' with me!"

"Well, if you get some time later, y'all come on by for tea." She pats Andy's head, and he remembers he's supposed to stay with Lucy and Logan.

"Bye!" Andy leaps down the stairs and runs to catch up with Logan and Lucy.

The walk to the bridge is crawlin' with monsters, but Andy's got his finger pistols and plus he ate his vegetables at lunch so his laser eyes're all charged up 'n' ready to blast. He runs circles around the grownups, fightin' off forty-foot tall robot lizards with ten eyes. He grabs his rifle off his back 'cause he has one of them too, and zaps a giant alien in an astronaut suit that's gonna eat the mayor—it's a laser rifle, with the grenade launcher on the buttstock. He turns around and uses the grenade launcher to blow a swarm of chicken-spiders on Pablo's building to smithereens.

The barber waves at him as chicken-spider legs rain down around them, and then goes back to staring sideways at the yard across the street, where Wei's fiddling with something builder-y.

"Andy!" Lucy calls from the edge of town square. She and Logan are still walking, but Andy's real fast. He passes the general store that's overgrown with big green tentacle vines. The vines are covered in purple spots and yellow spikes, and it looks real poisonous. The vines are real tough, too, and he's still working on making something with enough firepower to blast through 'em.

Family, the vines whisper. Cute kid... Orphan... Not really theirs... Took him in... Just darling. Andy ducks past the little crowd of tourists in front of the shop and catches up to Lucy as she and Logan start down the hill toward the bridge. He fights off a few mega geeglers trying to sneak up from the bridge, till Logan stops at the end of the road.

"I reckon I'll be back day after next," Logan says, tossing Rambo's reins over the saddlehorn.

Lucy looks worried. "Stay safe."

Logan nods. "I will."

She gets quieter, and Andy thinks maybe she's forgettin' that Logan's the best monster hunter ever. "Come back to us in one piece."

Logan tucks some of her hair behind her ear. "Gonna take a hell of a lot more'n a couple of beasts from the edge of the world to do me in, darlin'."

Something hits Andy's leg, and when he looks down, Captain's begging for pets. Andy crouches down and gives him a good head scratch.

"Good."

Captain flops onto his back and paws at Andy's fingers until Andy gives him a belly rub.

"Here," Logan says to Lucy. "It ain't much, an' I couldn't find a cord for it in time, but—it's for you. A thank you, for takin' care of Andy for me."

The grownups don't say anything for a few seconds, and then Captain gets up and bolts away like he'd never asked for pets in the first place. Andy watches Captain run off and then looks up.

Lucy's got her eyes shut and something between her hands, and Logan's got his forehead up against hers. "I'll be back 'fore ya know it."

"Yeah." Lucy nods and steps away.

Logan crouches in front of Andy, one hand on Andy's shoulder. "You be good for Lucy, y'hear? Do as she says and don't be puttin' up too much of a fuss for her."

"'Course I will," Andy scoffs. "You gonna bring me back somethin' cool?"

Logan nods. "Always do."

Andy throws his arms around Logan's neck, and even though Logan's leaving to go on a hunt, it really is like when his pa used to take his turn on the watch at camp. Except this time his pa is the best monster hunter in the whole world, and this time he's comin' back.

When Logan lets him go, Andy grabs Lucy's hand and they both stand at the end of the road and wave, then watch Logan till he disappears over a dune on the other side of the bridge.

"What'd he give ya?" Andy asks. "Can I see?"

Lucy holds out her hand, and in the palm is one of Logan's bone carvings. Andy's seen him work on this one off and on all week. Used to be a rabbit bone, but now it's a flat sorta oval shape with a tree on top. Not as cool as some of the other ones Logan's made, but Lucy likes trees a lot.

She puts it in her pocket and nods back toward town. "Come on," she says. "I have to go to the Guild office before it gets too much later."

"Can we go fishin' after?" Andy asks.

"Lucy!" Arvio shouts. He's standing on a box in front of the shop, which looks dumb 'cause he still can't hardly see over the crowd. "Lucy, dearest, I'm so pleased to see you!"

Andy walks a little faster so he's between Arvio and Lucy.

Arvio hops off the box and rushes over to her, ignoring Andy between them. "Dearest, I know you're terribly busy, but I thought we could have tea. You work so hard; you deserve a break."

"I can't right now." Lucy says.

"I mean nothing untoward, darling. I am, after all, a gentleman." He holds out a hand and does a dumb little bow. Andy snorts, 'cause that ain't how a gentleman behaves. He's still learning, but he knows that much.

Her hands rest on Andy's shoulders, and he turns around and throws his arms around her. "I really can't."

"Oh, the boy can come too, of course. I have a whole herd of stuffed yakmel he can play with." Arvio gives him a smile that looks like it should have a lot more teeth.

"I ain't no baby!" Andy says, grabbing Lucy's hand and pulling her away from Arvio.

"Andy—"

"Lucy!" Arvio steps in front of her, and Andy gets between them again. "Please, darling, won't you come inside?"

"I really don't—"

Arvio steps forward, holding out a hand. Andy feels Lucy back away, but Andy ain't scared of Arvio. He's mad. Ain't nobody gonna scare off his—his Lucy.

"Go away!" Andy snaps, and stomps on Arvio's shoe like the nasty bug it is.

There's a gasp from the little crowd nearby, and some of them don't look too happy about what they're seein'. Well, good. They should leave. They ain't doing nothing but walking around taking up space and singin' bad.

Arvio grunts, then forces a bad laugh through his teeth. "I see how it is," he declares. "Perhaps another time, dearest." He grimaces, but he doesn't move even when Andy pulls Lucy away from him and down the street. "It's quite alright," he's telling the people gathered around. "I'm not hurt. He's just a little boy, and quite confused, poor thing. He isn't even hers, you see."

The people in the crowd start to rumble like pebbles in a rockslide. Some of them start stepping forward, vines reaching out from the shop and grabbing at Arvio. The poison stingers flail and swing, and Andy knows the shopkeeper ain't got a chance.

"Wait! Wait! I can explain!" Arvio cries, but the tourists ain't listening. Besides, Andy can barely hear him over the angry mob. Nobody else is gonna.

Andy's ready to turn around and join in, but Lucy hisses, "You can't do stuff like that, Andy!"

"Why not?" Andy complains. "You said no, and he didn't listen. No means no, don't it?"

Lucy sighs and keeps walking, holding on to his hand so he don't run off. "Like father, like son."

Chapter Text

Andy kicks a rock and it skitters down the road. He kicks another one, harder this time, and it flies out in front of a passing tourist. They're real easy to spot 'cause they always have wicked sunburns and big ol' hats. At least they ain't following him or Lucy around any more. He'd feel better about protecting her last week in town square, if he wasn't so mad at Logan for always sayin' she's busy.

He kicks another rock.

"Andy!" Logan snaps.

"What?" Andy snaps back.

"Quit kickin' rocks. You almost hit somebody twice now!"

"I'm kickin' rocks 'cause we're goin' the wrong way," Andy pouts. "S'posed to be Lucy's day." He locks on to another rock and winds up for a good, solid kick.

"I told ya, kid, I'm pickin' you up from school from now on and—Andy!"

Logan's tone is real mean, and Andy flinches. His foot slips on top of the rock instead of kickin' it, and he loses his balance. He tries to catch himself but all he gets is a skinned elbow and it hurts. He ain't a baby, but it hurts a lot, and he's still mad at Logan. So, yeah, maybe he starts cryin'. So what.

"Light above," Logan mutters. "We ain't got time to patch ya up. We're already late to meet Heidi."

"I don't wanna go to Grandma's," Andy whines. "I wanna go to Lucy's!"

"Andy, I told ya, that ain't the plan this time. C'mon," Logan says, scooping Andy up off the cobble.

Andy keeps sulking, because he feels stinkin' miserable and it's Logan's fault. He ain't gettin' anything outta Logan information-wise, so he changes his interrogation tactic. "What's 'tie the knot' mean?"

It ain't real long, but Andy can tell from the hiccup in Logan's step that he's thinkin' real hard again. "That still ain't something you need to be worryin' about."

Andy growls and sulks harder. Logan didn't tell him last time he asked, either, just asked where he heard it—from Owen, when he was leavin' Miss Jane's before school—and then sent him up to bed. Then he'd sat on the couch and put his head in his hands for a real long time. Long enough for Andy to get bored and go dig out the spaceman Lucy gave him, and the robot from Qi, and make 'em fight back and forth across the new bed Lucy made. After a while, Andy got even more bored and made a fort outta the quilt Lucy gave him, one of the ones her ma sent her, and then he laid in the fort and drew cool pictures in the journal Lucy made for him.

If Logan still ain't tellin' him what it means, maybe it's somethin' real bad. Logan don't like to tell Andy about the real bad stuff, even if Andy asks a bunch. Even in the desert, Logan never told Andy some of the stuff he was doin'. He told Haru, and Andy eavesdropped, but that ain't the same thing.

"Damn it," Logan swears when they stop in front of Heidi's shop.

Andy twists so he can see what Logan's looking at. There's a note on the door. It's signed Heidi, but the writing is kinda messy and Andy's eyes are real tired from reading so much at school. "What?"

"Heidi ain't here."

"Does that mean I get to go with ya? I can get my slingshot and keep away all the jumpers! And I can keep watch at night, too!"

"Andy, no."

"Aw, c'mon."

"You ain't old enough to go on a hunt, and ya sure as shine ain't old enough to go on this hunt."

Andy scowls. "Fine. I'll stay home then. I ain't a baby. I'll lock the door and go to sleep on time and everythin'!"

"Andy, no. Just—give me a second to think, will ya?"

"Ya let me stay by myself at the hideout," he mutters, earning him a real nasty look from Logan. He sticks his tongue out, 'cause he's still real mad at Logan, and this ain't makin' it any better.

"You could ask someone else, you know," Andy hears from the stairs.

He'd know that voice anywhere.

Andy wriggles until Logan lets him go. "Lucy!" he crows, launching himself at her.

"I... didn't wanna impose," Logan says. He sounds like he's in trouble. If Andy had his way, he would be.

"Andy's not an imposition." Lucy sounds like Logan's in trouble, too. Well, good. Maybe Andy can have his way after all.

"Yeah! Lucy, can you come stay with me? I wanna make pancakes again!"

She looks at Logan, and then she says, "Why not have a sleepover at my house? We can make a mess of my kitchen this time."

Well, he likes when Lucy stays over at his house, 'cause it's almost like wakin' up in the wagon with his ma, but her house is better than nothin'. "Yeah! Logan, I'm gonna stay with Lucy!"

Logan sighs. "Thanks. Sorry."

"Don't be." She ruffles Andy's hair. "He's a good kid."

Andy gives her a grin. "C'mon, let's go to the bridge!"

"Actually... you'd better say bye here. I have to go drop off a commission at the saloon."

Andy looks up at Logan. He's got his stone face on, the one he wore when they kidnapped Matilda. It ain't a face Andy likes. "When're ya gonna be back?" he asks.

Logan's face doesn't change. "Same as always. Coupla days. Be good for Lucy." He whistles for Rambo. "I'll... let ya know when I'm back in town," he tells her.

"Yeah. Okay."

Rambo trots up with a snort, and Logan jumps up in the saddle. He tips his hat to Andy and Lucy, and then he rides off.

Andy stares after him, feelin' like he's skinned his elbow all over again, except it's inside his chest.

"Andy, you okay?"

"I'm fine!" Andy snaps, and then he starts cryin' for real, 'cause he didn't mean to yell at her. He wants to yell at Logan, but Logan ain't here. Lucy picks him up—she ain't as big as Logan, but she's still real strong—and carries him down the street, patting his back and tellin' him it's gonna be okay.

He don't believe her.

Haru's only been back in town a day, but he can already tell something's wrong. Logan's letters have never been particularly lengthy or informative aside from his information about the local monster populace, but they've been mentioning the builder more—much more, in fact—until recently.

He hasn't been able to put his finger on exactly what's wrong, until this afternoon. Lucy brought Andy back just before dinner, turning down Haru's offer to stay. She stood her ground politely even in the face of Andy's begging; he sure hadn't seemed to want her to leave. When Logan bent down to talk to the kid and ruffle his hair, Haru saw how Lucy looked at them. Logan wore that same pained longing as he watched her leave after a lingering hug from Andy.

Now that Andy's upstairs sleeping, Haru takes the opportunity to sit Logan down and get some damn answers.

"Logan, what the hell is going on between you and Lucy?"

"I… nothin'. Ain't nothin' goin' on any more." Logan says, looking away.

Any more? That's not a good sign. During their time as bandits, Logan learned to compartmentalize. He's gotten damn good at it, not letting a single thing slip past the mask. But aside from practicing, they'd promised to always be honest with each other. If Logan can't meet his eyes, he's hiding something.

"Okay, well, what was going on, then?" Haru clarifies. Logan isn't going to escape the questioning.

Logan sighs, putting his head in his hands. "Arvio started harassing her. It was… it was real bad." When he looks back up, Haru can see the steel in his eyes. "I'da prob'ly killed him already if she hadn't made me promise not to."

That gets Haru's attention. Despite what others may think, Logan doesn't actually threaten violence very often. Commit it in the heat of the moment, yes, but not threaten. For him to not only be at that line, but actively held from crossing it on his word... Not good is an understatement.

"What was he doing?" he asks, horrified.

Logan sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. "What wasn't he? But it ain't my story to tell. I just let her hide out here in the house anytime she needed to get away."

"How often did she need to hide out here?"

"If we'd had the space I'd have just offered to let her move in." Logan sighs. "Hell, I almost did anyway."

"Okay, but—"

"I'm gettin' there, lemme talk." Logan waves him off. "So, she was here a lot. I'm talkin' every day. Got to the point where I'd just expect to find her here teachin' Andy somethin'. Couldn't stop her from fixing half the damn house, or makin' supper."

"I mean, that might have just been self defense if she was staying here. Light knows your cooking could kill," Haru tries to joke, but Logan shoots him a withering glare. Ah. So this is more serious than the man's let on so far.

"You think I don't know that?" Logan snaps. He's pricklier than a cactus. Haru's going to have to tread carefully or he'll just clam up.

"Alright, I'm sorry. So she cooked, presumably cleaned from the state of the place, and fixed things up. What did you do for her?"

Logan sighs again, looking out into the distance. "Not enough. Let her hide out here, kept Arvio away from her. Brought her whatever it seemed she was usin' a lot of."

Haru raises an eyebrow. "Did she ask you to?"

Logan ducks his head. "Naw, jus' kept track of what she was usin' is all."

"You paid attention to what she needed, and you provided it without asking for anything in return," Haru says. "Did you go out of your way?"

"Didn't need to. Leastways not often. Not like it's hard to pick up more leather or somethin' an' put it in her delivery box." Translated from Logan's habitual understatement, he'd probably built his entire patrol each day around what she needed.

"And you were... happy?"

Logan smiles fondly, his eyes sad. Just how close had they gotten? "Yeah… it was…" His voice fades to a whisper. "It was like havin' a family again."

And isn't that a punch in the gut. Light knows even Haru would kill to bring that feeling back. After Howlett died, he and Logan had tried, and when they had Andy it was better, but it was nothing like what they'd had before. Nothing like a real family.

"So what happened?" Haru pressed. Surely they didn't throw all that away for no reason. To have that back, even for a moment…

"Arvio gave up."

Haru waits for the rest, but Logan stays silent. "Is that all?" He can't believe it.

Logan snaps back, "Whaddaya mean 'is that all'? She was only here to avoid him. What was I supposed to do, trap her here?" If Andy wasn't sleeping upstairs, there's no doubt he'd be yelling right now.

"Well, no, but—"

"If I rope her into stayin' here, how am I any better than him?"

Light above. He isn't serious, is he? He can't possibly be this much of a fool. "Logan…" Haru says, trying to calm the man down. Last thing he needs is for Andy to wake up and witness this, or for the rest of the town to hear. "Don't tell me you haven't seen how Andy looks up to her. Even I can see it."

"Yeah, well, I'm tryin' to break it to him gentle. I ain't gonna tie her down. She's too good for that."

He is that much of a fool. There's no way to break that gently. The boy's imprinted at this point. "Tie her down?"

"Sure. She's here on a contract, y'know. Five years."

Haru blinks. He could have sworn they were three year contracts, but he hasn't known any senior builders besides Mason—and Mason wasn't a very good example, what with all the treason. "A lot can happen in five years. And she seems like she genuinely likes this town." Besides, she's already finished two of the five. Senior builders don't make minor change, as the saying goes, so there's rarely more than one per city, and positions don't open very often. If she wants to keep building, she'll stay here a while.

Logan waves a hand. "She's learned to love it, like I learned to love huntin'. Ain't nothin' to say she won't take a better offer, given the chance, and I ain't gonna stand in her way."

"Maybe Sandrock is the better offer. It's not like it was, not like when we were kids." Not like when your mother met Howlett, he doesn't say. Logan's still mourning her—always has, always will—but Haru knows better than to spotlight that particular grief. Regardless, Logan still sends him a warning look, so Haru changes the subject quickly. "Besides, it was you she came to for help, wasn't it?"

"She only came to me ‘cause I was the only person who bothered to step up. Not anythin' else. I ain't about to force her to stick around jus' ‘cause I caught feelings. I ain't Arvio."

Haru flinches. "I'm sure you weren't the only one."

"Ever'body seemed real keen on lookin' the other way for the last month. An' judgin' by the number of tourists comin' round to watch, they woulda kept lookin' that way, too."

It doesn't sound like Sandrock, but even Haru can't deny the town's not quite the same one he left. Whether they like it or not, Matilda and the other traitors left an indelible mark on the town. "Even if she doesn't feel the same way you do, that doesn't mean she doesn't like you or doesn't want to hang out with you."

Logan stops, taking a deep breath and continuing more quietly. "Sorry, Haru, but she don't need to deal with that kinda burden."

"Logan, your love isn't a burden."

Logan snorts. "Really? What good's it ever done anybody? Got Pa killed, put you on the run for years ‘steada in school. Light knows how it's gonna fuck Andy up." He runs a hand down his face. "She deserves better than a bandit."

"You can't keep using the banditry as an excuse not to let people in."

"The hell I can't. The whole town's still waitin' for their golden boy to come back from the sand, and meanwhile they ain't dealin' with the black sheep screamin' in town square. An' as for Lucy... it ain't fair to put all my yakshit on her." He takes a deep breath and sits up straight in his chair, as if he's trying to make himself believe it. "Man's gotta stand on his own two feet."

Lucy rounds the corner onto Main Street, tensing reflexively as she scans the crowd spilling out from town square. After Andy's outburst, Arvio seems to have lost all interest. Lucy hasn't sought him out, and she's rarely been out of the house or her workshop without either Logan or Andy, but it's been at least a week and a half since she even saw him around town.

Despite his distance, she's still hesitant to take Andy out to town square knowing Arvio will be there surrounded by dozens of tourists and onlookers. She's not convinced this isn't a calm-before-the-storm kind of thing, and she can't shake the fear that he's going to do something even more insane. The Day of Memories festival is in full swing now, busier than she's ever seen it, but she doesn't think that would stop him from making a scene.

Arvio's shop is dark, and a couple of merchants have set up directly in front of his porch. She studies it, looking for anything out of place that might clue her in to whatever stupid stunt he's planning to pull, but if there are any clues, she can't find them. She keeps to the other side of the square anyway, just in case.

Andy's clinging to her hand, practically glued to her side. He's been stuck to her ever since she picked him up from Logan's, for reasons she doesn't entirely understand, though she has a fair idea. He never talks about his birth parents, but this is their first Day of Memories together, and nobody's grief is far from the surface today.

She buys him a puffy confection in the shape of a ghost, then takes him to sign up for the ghost hunting game that's due to start at sundown. "Alright, do you want to be on the same team, or do you want to be on different teams?" she asks. "Maybe I'll be a ghost; I bet you're clever enough to find me."

"Uh, I dunno," he says. He's focused on the last bite of the confection, nibbling at it with a hesitation that's so out of character for him that she pulls him up the stairs and they slip into City Hall. The silence in the vaulted ceilings is deafening, and now she can hear him sniffle.

"Andy, it's okay to miss them, you know." She crouches in front of him and squeezes his arm.

He looks at her, eyes full and glassy, and tears his arm away from her. "I don't wanna go ghost hunting!" he shouts, voice breaking into sobs. "I don't want you to be a ghost," he whispers. "I don't wanna."

"Okay, okay. Hey." Lucy reaches for him, but he skips backward. "Andy, it's okay. We don't have to do ghost hunting. We can make some lanterns, if you'd rather. I've got the materials at my workshop."

Whatever she's said is obviously wrong, because he goes from pathetic sobs to dejected wails. If she's not careful, someone's going to come investigate why she's got Logan's kid all worked up like this. She tries to give him a hug, but he flails his arms, forcing her away.

"Andy! Andy." She doesn't know what else to do—she's between him and the door, but she doesn't really want to chase him through town—so she just dives in and tries again to get her arms around him. If nothing else, she can at least hug him until he calms down a little.

It takes a while, but after a few minutes, his wails calm to hiccuping sobs. She hopes nobody else is trying to get into City Hall, because in her attempts to get him to stop struggling so violently, she lost her balance. They're both on the floor, her up against the heavy double doors and Andy up against her, crying his poor little heart out for reasons she still doesn't fully understand.

"Hey, buddy," she croons. "Talk to me."

"You'n—hic—tell me, yanno. I ain't some dumb baby."

"Tell you what?"

"That you're—you're—" He hiccups, then manages, "dyin'."

She shouldn't laugh. She really shouldn't laugh. The last thing that Lucy should do right now is laugh at the child who just spent ten minutes sobbing into her shirt because he thought she was dying. But she's laughing anyway when she says, "Andy, buddy, I'm not dying." She pulls him back into her and kisses the crown of his head as he sighs with relief.

"Really? No foolin'?"

"No fooling," she says, still chuckling. "Who told you I was dying?"

Andy sits up and frowns. "Well, I heard Owen talkin' to Miss Jane about it 'fore school a couple weeks ago. He said it'd prob'ly be pretty soon. I told Logan what I heard an' he wouldn't tell me anythin' and that's when I knew what was goin' on." He sighs and grins. "Light above, I ain't never been so happy to be wrong about somethin'."

A little voice in the back of Lucy's head stops the laughter cold. "What did Owen say, exactly?"

"He said you was gonna tie a knot, whatever that means." Andy shrugs. "What does it mean, anyhow?"

Lucy panics. "Could mean anything," she lies. "I'm not really sure what he meant by it. I tie a lot of knots as a builder, but I don't know what Owen was talking about." She gets to her feet and holds out a hand for Andy. "Come on, let's go ghost hunting."

She keeps him—and herself—busy for another hour, until she finds herself in a hiding spot that's so good none of the ghost hunters will ever find her. Then, in the navy twilight, she stares at a brick quoin limned in silver moonlight and rests her head in her hands.

Last week, she picked up Andy from school and took him with her to the abandoned ruins down below the salvage shop. Technically, she probably shouldn't take him into the ruins, but the worst thing they've run into so far was a tangle of rusty wire. She made him a little pickhammer a month or so ago, and he always has a blast smashing open rocks and picking out the little shiny bits of metal inside. He doesn't have much of an interest in building, but she gives him pocket money for the stuff he busts open.

After their excursion, she made a quick dinner while Andy talked her ear off, and then she brought Andy back to Logan's and put him to bed. She doesn't particularly like leaving Andy alone in the house by himself, as a general rule, but midnight came and went and she was still waiting for Logan to get home. So, she'd put her boots on, checked on Andy one last time—sound asleep, of course—and slipped quietly out of the house. "Alright, Logan," she muttered as she hopped into the saddle. "Where are you?"

To her surprise, Merle started off toward the clinic. Lucy let the goat clip along past the research center and down the stairs, then around the corner into the north plaza. The streetlight behind her threw long shadows, but the moonlight was bright enough to outline Rambo next to the museum, chewing on one of Catori's hedges. Lucy pulled Merle to a stop and slid down onto the cobble. She stepped carefully toward the graveyard, and stopped when she heard a familiar voice.

"—wish you was here, Pa. You always knew what to do."

She squinted, eyes adjusting to the light, and made out a few locks of white hair peeking up over the top of Howlett's grave. Logan. She breathed a sigh and started toward him, no longer trying to mask her footfalls.

He saw her the moment she came into view. He was already getting to his feet, and she didn't even have the chance to say anything before he gave her a perfunctory tip of his hat and started off toward his house, summoning Rambo with a brief whistle.

"Hey," Lucy called, jogging to catch up with his long strides. "You okay?"

"Fine. How was Andy?"

"He's in bed. I almost wore him out first today, I think." It was supposed to be funny. Usually, he'd at least chuckle at a comment like that. At the time, she assumed he was tired, maybe a little guilty for being out so late, but now... well, he just told her thanks in that brusque Sandrocker accent of his, hopped on Rambo, and rode off. That must have been after Andy told Logan what he'd heard. She'd felt offended with his abrupt manner, then guilty for feeling offended when she'd been the one to interrupt an extremely personal moment, then annoyed that he hadn't let her apologize, let alone help.

Now, though, she's annoyed at him for letting Andy think she was dying, of all things. She's annoyed that he didn't mention it, but it's pretty obvious why. As enjoyable as their arrangement's been, it hasn't been necessary in a while, and if she's brutally honest with herself, she's only been keeping it up because Logan's let her. It's been fun to play house. But if the idea of marrying her puts him off so much he won't even talk to his kid about it, well, she should probably give him some space so he can fill that role with someone else—if he even wants to.

"Found ya!"

Lucy yelps and knocks her head against the underside of the porch she's hiding under. "Ow," she groans, crawling out from her hiding place.

"Oh, shoot! I'm sorry! I didn't think ya were gonna spook like that. Shoot, you okay?"

Lucy grits her teeth, eyes watering, and nods. "Mm." Her stomach turns, and she takes a deep, slow breath through her nose. "I'm alright." She forces a chuckle. "You really are clever, aren't you?"

"Yeah! Hey, that's a pretty good hidin' spot."

"Only works in the dark." She stretches her back, trying to work out the soreness from sitting still for so long. "Aren't you going to find some more ghosts?"

He shrugs. "Don't really wanna."

"Andy, I'm not going anywhere."

"I know." He drops onto the ground next to her and leans against her shoulder. "If you ain't dyin', that's good. I got real scared 'cause, well, I love ya and I know you're not my ma but sometimes I feel like you could be, an' I don't wanna lose my ma again."

Lucy puts an arm around him and pulls him close, squeezing him until he groans a little.

Fuck.

Chapter Text

Haru follows Logan into the Saloon, heading toward the bar as Logan ambles off to grab a table. Haru's more particular about what he drinks than Logan, but admittedly, that's not hard. In the past, Logan could and did drink liquor any sane man would have called rotgut, and gone back for seconds.

"Welcome! Can't say I'm surprised to see you two in here today," Owen says sympathetically.

"Yes, well…" Haru doesn't bother to explain. They aren't the only ones drinking their feelings away today, but it seems they've started later than some. A couple of tourists are already three sheets to the wind and another is gently crying into his beer. He wouldn't be surprised if they're cut off soon.

Owen just nods. "Same ol'?" he asks, reaching back for one of the whiskey bottles. Haru just nods distractedly as he keeps looking around. During the brief time between the trial and heading off to school, he hadn't had a chance to dip into the saloon.

It's still so similar to how he remembered it, and yet the tiny differences are throwing him off. Did he forget those pictures along the wall? Are those bottles organized the same way? How much really changed in the last few years, and how much is just fallible human memory? After four years, it must be a bit of both.

Owen plinks two square glasses in front of him, pouring a measure of whiskey into one and tequila into the other. The amber liquids catch the light, casting a warm glow across the bar. Haru blinks, returning to the present. When he reaches into his pocket, Owen waves him off.

"Not tonight. I know it's the first one since Howlett passed that you weren't…" Owen trails off, unable to come up with a polite way to explain their absence from town.

Haru smiles tightly. Logan's told him about this, but he didn't think it was this bad. No matter. Unlike Logan, he feels no need to repay Owen for his charity. If this is how the man wants to assuage his guilt, Haru won't stop him. Light knows that he should feel guilty. Even knowing Logan and Howlett as well as he did, he'd taken the Church's word at face value.

Haru grabs both drinks, and walks over to the corner that Logan has commandeered. The hunter looks up at his approach.

"Oh, I see we're gettin' the good stuff," Logan says with a wry smile. Haru just rolls his eyes. Anything above industrial solvent is "the good stuff" to Logan, and the joke's worn pretty thin over the last few years. Still, it's good to see he isn't so deep in grief that he can't make jokes. It's a welcome contrast to their first year, when they'd been mourning everything, including the life they'd known.

Logan takes the whiskey, clinking their glasses together and motioning for Haru to start. It's a tradition they started back when Howlett was around: sharing stories about the departed to keep them living, however they can. Often it's just between the two of them, but two's more than enough. There's a fair few to get through before Howlett: older hunters and other folks from the past. Logan makes sure Haru never forgets his parents, even though they died when he was young. The litany changes order every year, but they've always left him for last. At least this year, they won't be overshadowed by the horror of thinking they killed him.

When Haru goes up to the bar for the next round, Owen's excitedly describing the masquerade to some tourists. The man turns to him, pulling him into the conversation as he pours fresh drinks.

"You should have been here for that big dance, Haru. It was like something right out of a play. Arvio's had some spectacular failures in the past, but this sure wasn't one of them. Really, something for the ages."

"It sounds interesting," Haru hedges carefully. Logan had written about it, but only to tell him that Andy had a good time. A pity. Logan had once been a renowned dancer, not that he ever seemed to acknowledge it. Unlike Haru and his two left feet, Logan had been a popular partner during every solstice dance he deigned to attend. Tourists and locals alike had appreciated his skills, and not least because he could be trusted not to press for anything more afterward.

Owen's always been able to weave quite the story, and this one is no different. The detail with which he describes the sights and the sounds, the gorgeous costumes and colorful masks, truly make the scene come alive. Haru finds himself drawn into the narrative, though he really should be getting back to the table.

"I'm afraid one of our local shopkeepers made a bit of a nuisance of himself. He was rather theatrical the whole night, arriving dramatically late, putting on quite the show of cutting in rather than asking for a dance. There were murmurs against his costume, too—I mean, gold and gray?" Owen laughs, then glances towards Haru with a slight grimace, as if he's afraid he's said something offensive.

Haru winces. His friendship with Arvio is well known, but even he can admit that the man can be a bit… much.

"It all came to a head when he refused to take no for an answer, continually trying to pressure our senior builder into a dance. Eventually he cut in when he caught her with a less than enthusiastic partner, but I've never seen an unhappier dance. You'd think he was stepping on her toes constantly!" Owen laughs again, demonstrating how comically far Lucy had been from Arvio. Haru didn't think it was that funny, but he's also aware of what Arvio got up to after the dance. "The bumbling didn't last long, though. Help came from the most unexpected direction…"

Owen pauses as the tourists look on, turning to Haru. "You should have seen it. It was like a switch had flipped, and the Logan we all knew was back again."

Haru leaves, grabbing the drinks and scoffing as Owen continues to regale the crowd with how the town monster hunter had unexpectedly stepped in. How a dashing rogue rescued the lady with a peerless display of skill.

That does sound like Logan, but he's never stopped being the one they knew. Just because they can't see it doesn't make it untrue. So many years practically alone in the desert would change anyone. It had certainly changed Haru.

He and Logan pass through the Howlett portion of the evening, followed by a surprisingly brief jaunt through the expected angry ranting. Sure, there are more than a few unkind words said about Pen, and Duvos, but Logan doesn't seem to focus on it. The fact that it's in the past now, that they were caught and tried, probably helped, but compared to last year... Haru's shocked, to say the least.

Instead of lingering in ire, Logan moves on to Andy and Lucy. Haru's nearly forgotten just how talkative a drunk Logan can be. Before the bombing, he'd always been more of a friendly drunk, though with more of a hair trigger on his temper. Afterward, he tended to fall toward melancholy and depression after a few drinks. While it's good to see the friendly drunk again, Haru needs a break. There's only so much he can hear of Logan's admiration.

Before he leaves town, he'll have to get another side to this story. He barely has to ask Owen about it before the man starts to gush.

"It's crazy. There was a time Logan would've never left the Blue Moon alone, but these days, unless he's with the builder..."

Haru rolls his eyes, exasperated. "Don't start that again. You know it wasn't like that. It was never like that with him, or with Howlett."

"Okay, okay. I'm just saying, since everything calmed down, I've never seen him leave here with anyone but our esteemed senior builder."

Haru pauses, thinking. "Not anyone?"

"Ask anyone in town, they'll tell you the same thing. I mean sure, plenty of people think it was just to help her with Arvio's obsession, but he stopped long before they did. Something's going on there for sure." He pushes the glass across the bar. "He's always watching her, like a flower tracks the sun."

Fuck. Logan's got it bad if everyone knows.

"Is it just him? I mean, would she string him along?" Normally, Haru would have asked that a bit more diplomatically, but he's more than three drinks in now.

"Well, I can tell you she's not exactly leaving with anyone else either. And when he walks in, it's like no one else exists." Owen chuckles. "Arvio claims to have caught Logan ravishing her up against a wall. Might not be true, though from what I've seen of them, I don't think she'd mind too much."

"Excuse me?!"

Owen laughs. "Ah, don't worry. Hugo and I got to talking: consider the source. Knowing Logan, it couldn't have been more than a kiss on the cheek. "

Haru just rolls his eyes. He's never known Logan to press the advance, and he's never known Arvio not to wildly exaggerate. He'd have bet good gols that all Logan did was stand too close to her. On the other hand, from the way they look at each other when they think no one's watching, maybe Arvio's not wrong.

"If nothing else, they sure have formed a cute little family. Andy's hardly seen without one or the other of them these days."

"Yeah, he's with her now, actually," Haru muses, starting back to the table. He's grateful that she was willing to take the kid to the festival. There was no way Logan was going to go, and the kid deserves to have some fun.

Haru tries not to sigh. Alright, so they're both idiots. Great. How's he going to fix this?

Haru's last trip to the bar an hour later is more of an escape than anything else. He has to get away from Logan for a minute, because this mood of his is exhausting. It's good that Logan's no longer living in the past, but Haru's reaching his limit on the maudlin moping Logan's moved on to. He's almost reached his limit on drinks, too. He's nowhere near keeping up with Logan—that's a fool's errand—but he's at least keeping up with the spirit of the evening. The monster hunter not only outmasses him, but like Howlett, has some kind of insane toxin resistance. He's watched the man outdrink the entire salvage crew. Sequentially.

Owen looks past him to where Logan is slumped with his head in his hands. "Do you really need any more drinks?" he asks with a raised eyebrow.

Haru sighs. "No, just a break."

Owen smiles and slides him a sand tea instead. It's just as refreshing as Haru remembers, and he downs it gratefully. He sighs, leaning against the bar as he gathers his wits.

"He still on about her?"

Haru grimaces. He'd hoped Owen wasn't able to hear it, but Logan's not exactly been quiet. They're the last ones in the bar, and it's definitely past time to take Logan home. Andy ought to be deep asleep now, if Lucy hasn't had any troubles with him.

Owen just laughs. "Just wait. Someday you'll fall in love and then you'll finally understand."

It's late by the time Logan and Haru come stumbling home. Logan's leaning on his brother completely, barely able to put one foot in front of the other even with help. Haru looks tired, too. His gaze is a little hazy, and he's got a slight sway in his step. He isn't sober by any means, but he's much closer to it than Logan is. Not that that's difficult at the moment.

Lucy was about to leave. Or least, that's what she's been telling herself. In reality, she's been dithering by the door for the last hour.

Logan's eyes light up when he sees her, a smile tugging on the corner of his mouth. Haru just laughs, letting the hunter slump over on her.

"Take care of this for me, will you?" he asks, heading up the stairs.

She laughs uneasily. "When do I not?" She barely manages to keep it light as a joke, rather than the bitter question that it became somewhere between her brain and her mouth.

Haru laughs again, climbing unsteadily up the stairs.

Logan's different than usual, but admittedly Lucy's never seen him so much as tipsy. This is pretty far beyond that, at least judging by the fact that Logan's wrapped around her like a climbing vine. He's bent low, forehead pressed up against the crook of her neck, with both arms slung low across her back. She's glad to be only a head shorter than him, or this would be much less comfortable.

It's been weeks since they did anything like this, since she's gotten even a short friendly hug. She wants to relax into it, to enjoy the warm comfort of his embrace, but she can't. Andy's fear burns forefront in her memory, his inconsolable sobs still ringing in her ears. I told Logan what I heard. That's when I knew what was goin' on.

Is Logan just not interested in commitment? If so, why adopt Andy? Is he just not interested in her? This alone would at least suggest otherwise. Is he just… not interested in commitment with her? Letting Andy think she's dying was, after all, apparently a better alternative than letting the boy think even for a minute that they might mean something to each other. Is she not good enough in some way? Not dangerous enough, not pretty enough, not… something enough.

Anger and heartbreak race around in her head, circling endlessly like vultures. She doesn't hug him back, letting a hundred and seventy pounds of affectionate monster hunter just hang off her like a heavy coat.

Another thought crosses her mind, cutting through the chaos straight past reason and out of her mouth.

"Logan, where's your gun?"

He tenses in alarm, hand falling to the leather. He doesn't let it get more than three feet from him on a good day, and less when he's working or feeling particularly anxious. To see the holster hanging empty at his side is beyond worrying. As his hand makes contact he suddenly relaxes all at once, remembering. "Haru's got it."

She blinks. She's never seen the man without it. "And... you're okay with that?" If she'd had to bet, she wouldn't have thought even Haru would be able to get it away from him. That said, it isn't like she's ever tried, or even asked.

"Pa says you can't take 'em drinkin' 'less you wanna lose a foot." He sighs heavily, collapsing into her as his stubble scratches against her neck. "I reckon one bad one's enough."

"Seems like you had a good time?" she asks quietly. It must have been, or he wouldn't have come back smiling and snuggly. Maybe Haru pulled him out of some tourist's bed. The man's devastatingly attractive under the leather and scruff; she can't possibly be the only one to have noticed.

He hums something noncommittal quietly into her skin, tightening his arms around her briefly.

"You doing alright?"

He shakes his head minutely, still pressed against her. "No. I just feel lost without—" He trails off into an unintelligible mumble. She guesses, based on the day, he's talking about Howlett. "Can't we just go back to that?"

"I'm sorry. I... know it's hard. But... you know, it'll get easier. Just give yourself time." She has no idea how to help with grief. She's never lost a loved one, let alone a parent. All she can do is parrot the advice she's heard from others, and hope it helps.

He holds her tighter, whispering brokenly, "Please? I know it's my fault, but I ain't askin' for anythin' else."

Her heart breaks for him. He's still blaming himself for his father's death, even after Pen admitted to everything. Guilt's funny like that, though. Patting his back awkwardly, she tries to pull away. "Let me get you some water and then I'll let you rest."

He goes still, sighing, before pulling away from her, folding up his hurts like a tattered map. "'m sorry, I'mma mess. You should go," he said, absently tilting his hat down to hide his face in its shadow. He looks smaller, hunched in on himself in grief.

She tries to step closer, but he flinches a half-step away. Perhaps he feels like he doesn't deserve any help. "You going to be alright?"

He starts walking towards the stairs. "No. Jus' need time to mourn 's all."

She calls quietly after him, "Am I going to see you tomorrow?"

He doesn't turn to look at her, just shaking his head, voice choked with grief. "Prob'ly not."

Something's wrong, but she doesn't know what. Confusion clouds her mind, but she wants what's best for him, so she steps out into the night to give him space. It feels so much colder than it did before.

Haru's gotten used to Ataran travel times, so he's not really surprised when he's ready to go to the station well before the train is due. Andy gives him a groggy, sleepy hug and then burrows back under his quilt and keeps sleeping; Logan stumbles out onto the landing looking like he's been trampled by wild yakmel. Haru wonders if he knows he's making really pathetic groaning noises every time he moves.

"She didn't give you any water, did she?" Haru asks.

Logan winces and doesn't respond.

"Did you talk to her? Please tell me you talked to her."

Logan's answering laugh is as dry as the Eufaula and as bitter as poplar sap. So quietly Haru can barely hear him, he says, "I told 'er how lost I was without 'er, an' she shot me down. Told me she was sorry, but I'd get over it. Jus' give m'self time."

"She said that... after you told her you..." Haru blinks. That's not the response he'd have expected at all, but he doesn't really know Lucy that well. "Are you sure? You were pretty drunk. Maybe you misheard her."

Haru winces under Logan's answering stare. He can't even call it a glare, really, because a glare implies steel or iron and Logan is very clearly nothing but shattered glass. "I begged her. I said I jus' wanted what we had before, nothin' else. She pushed me away, an' saw herself out."

"Huh." That doesn't sound like the builder everyone knows and loves, but then again, nobody thought Matilda was a Duvos spy. "Go back to bed," he tells Logan firmly. "Maybe drink some water first."

"Lemme walk you t' the station," Logan says, grimacing as he takes half a step forward.

"Logan, you're not ready to get out of bed, let alone the house. I'll see you in a couple months, alright?"

It doesn't take more than Haru's raised eyebrow to convince him, which is a bad sign. "Ngh. Fine. Stay safe, will ya?"

Haru hefts his rucksack onto his shoulder and nods. "You, too."

It's already oppressively warm, like any good Sandrock morning, but it's nothing compared to how furious Haru is. He put up with Logan waxing poetic about this woman for hours. He's got a dozen letters in his dorm room from Logan that make it abundantly clear she's an integral part of his and Andy's lives. Haru had been so sure—he'd practically demanded Logan go for it—and then she just bails on him without even making sure he's going to be okay? It makes no sense, and it makes Haru's blood boil.

Haru drops his rucksack on the platform with a nod to Jensen and storms across to the workshop gate. He can see Lucy in the yard, working one of her dozens of machines. As soon as he's close enough to get her attention without attracting too much from anyone else, he snaps, "Hey!"

She pushes her safety goggles up onto her head. She's got dark circles under her eyes, and she looks about as energetic as wet paper. "Hey, Haru," she says flatly. She doesn't seem to care that he's walked right into her yard without so much as a how-do-you-do.

"What did you say to him?" Haru demands.

She flinches, as if taken aback. "What did I say?"

Haru gapes at her. The train rumbles up behind him, gears shrieking as it comes to a stop next to the platform.

"I know he was upset about Howlett. He went on about how he felt lost without him." She drops her tools onto the workbench. "And you know what? I tried, Haru. I really did. I tried to take care of him, but he pushed me away. He told me he just needed time to mourn, but what kind of an excuse is that? I mean, who am I kidding? Andy said he overheard Owen talking about us tying the knot, and Logan never said a damn thing to me about it."

The gears in Haru's head grind to a screeching halt. "What?"

She doesn't repeat herself, voice thick with anger. It takes a second for Haru to catch back up with her as she bites out her next words. "Andy told me yesterday. Apparently, Logan didn't even tell him what it meant.” She pauses for a second to catch her breath, fists clenched at her sides. "He let the poor kid think I was dying."

The train whistles loudly, and Haru mutters a curse, pinching the bridge of his nose. Logan had talked endlessly about her last night, except he kept saying he missed her. Was he wrong to push Logan to talk to her? If he'd been that far off, Logan would have known better. He would have said something, surely. But he'd also been pretty damn drunk.

Dread coils like a viper in the pit of his stomach. Whatever's between them has gone horribly awry, and Haru's pretty sure he's helped push it right off a cliff. "Lucy, you—" The train whistles again, more insistent. "You need to talk to him!" Haru calls as he backs toward the station.

"The hell I do! I'm not the problem!" She turns on her heel.

Haru's out of time to fix this mess, even though it's probably his fault. He turns and sprints to the platform. "I'm here, I'm here!"

"'Bout to leave without ya," Jensen laughs. "Your bag's in the third car. All aboard!"

Haru ducks onto the train, finds a seat in the dining car, and knocks his head against the tabletop as the train pulls out of Sandrock. Idiots, he thinks. Me among them. He should have known better than to trust anything that came out of Arvio’s mouth. When he's done trying to leave a red mark on his forehead, he pulls a pencil and some scrap paper out of his rucksack to draft a letter while the Eufaula glides by in endless yellow waves.

He doesn't even know where to start.

Logan walks through town square, boots clicking quietly on the cobbled street. He took a day to lick his wounds, and to recover from the hangover, but it's long past time to be up on his own two feet. Unlike certain shopkeepers, he ain't dramatic enough to draw out his heartbreak. Instead, he's trying his damnedest to keep his mind on the present. Hopefully the bounty board has something new. He's almost managed to pay off those fines.

Unfortunately, life has conspired to throw it all right back in his face.

Hugo calls out to him from where he's standing by the notice board, ambling over to talk. Logan sighs to himself, but stops in his tracks, letting the older man catch him up.

"Ain't seen any of your art in Arvio's shop these days," the blacksmith remarks.

Logan scoffs. What he does is hardly art, just something to while away the downtime between hunts. Hugo's never called it anything else, though, so he gave up protesting that years back. Like everything else, it's something his pa was better at anyway.

He'd carved a lot while on the run. There hadn't been terribly many entertainment options available. If he could have, he'd have trained and practiced shooting all the time. Unfortunately, bullets were scarce, and running out in the wastes was a death sentence. As a result, there are hundreds of pieces of carved bone scattered across the desert: trees and beasts, shapes and spirals. The trees are the ones he's most fond of, intricate desert poplars sticking out of the sand. The only trees he's ever been able to plant.

That said, he ain't sold Arvio a lick of bone in months. He'd only sold a handful of pieces before the party, and none since Lucy came to him in tears needing help. Even if the money would have been nice, he ain't about to speak to the kid. He won't do any business with Arvio, and Andy won't even go near the place.

He promised her that he wouldn't hurt him, least not till she told him he could. Just 'cause they ain't talking don't mean he'll go back on his word.

"You know how it is," Logan dodges the implied question. He's not about to air this kind of personal business in town square. Not if he can help it.

Hugo just raises an eyebrow, trying to wait him out, but silence hasn't scared Logan in years. There was only so much he and Haru could talk about, so silence filled most of the hours. He just waits for the man to get to whatever his real point is.

It doesn't take long.

"We can all see you're miserable, kid. Why ain't you two made up yet?"

Logan prickles. "It ain't that simple," he gets out through clenched teeth. Damn, he really didn't want to have this conversation.

The only thing he can think to apologize for is falling in love with her. And he can't apologize for that. He won't, not when he still loves her, might never stop—and boy, doesn't that hurt. She's too good for him, but he'd had hope. Maybe that's why it hurts so bad.

He'd really felt they had something at least. Even now, when he sees that sofa, he can't help but think of her. It's like a punch to the gut every time, seeing the pieces of her littered throughout his house and his life. There are dozens of things she's fixed in the house alone; he found two more this morning.

Andy'd snuck out of his room to sleep on the couch a few nights ago. The next morning, Logan found him sprawled out across it. It broke his heart, realizing the kid just wanted to be close to her again. And honestly, if Logan weren't so tall, he'd have already done the same damn thing.

"It's never that complicated. Everyone always thinks it is, but lemme tell you: I was married for years. Nothing an apology can't fix."

He knows Hugo's just trying to help, but damn does he sound patronizing. Something gives way in Logan just a little bit, like a boulder keeping back a landslide, and he can't stop himself from glaring darkly and snapping back.

"Step off, Hugo. You don't know what yer talkin' about. Besides, hardly think you're an expert on apologies, all things considered."

The blacksmith looks surprised at his bite. "What exactly's that supposed to mean?"

"When are any of y'all going to apologize to Lucy? Arvio put her through hell and you did nothing. Light's sake, you didn't even tell me anything so I could help." Logan's fists are clenched, nails digging painfully into his palm, but he's calm.

Alright, that's an overstatement, but he hasn't flown off the handle yet at least. It doesn't help that this is something he's stewed over for weeks, watching helplessly from the sidelines. Even after Arvio stopped, and Lucy no longer needed him, he couldn't let go of his anger.

There's a crowd forming now as more of the locals are drawn in by the sound of his raised voice. This isn't what he wanted, but he has to know. Why did they do nothing?

"It can't have been that bad…" Hugo says dismissively. "With how close you two are, you'd have done something."

Logan's eye twitches. "I'd have done somethin' from the start, but someone asked me not to." He clenches his teeth till he thinks they might crack, till the ache in his jaw grounds him out of the worst of his fury. "Seems they thought I'd go too far. An' frankly, they were prob'ly right."

It's Hugo's turn to flinch.

"Well… no one wanted to upset Arvio again, after what happened last time," Trudy says hesitantly.

Rage boils inside his chest, and he snarls, "Upset Arvio?! Are y'all kidding?" His composure is slipping, the boulder cracking like the walls of his sanity, but he's still managing to keep it together, just barely. "Or is it really upsettin' the tourists that had y'all spooked?" He laughs bitterly, a sound that's as ugly as the flailing fury inside him. "After all, I'm sure that show was quite the draw. Does it matter if it's at someone's expense, if the gols are rollin' in?"

No one answers. Silence falls, thick and final, over the square, leaving only the wind whispering across the stone.

At least until Cooper speaks.

"Aw no, the boy's gonna have ta run off agin."

The world freezes into one crystalline moment of pure disbelief. The crowd stares at Cooper, horrified, but the boulder holding everything back inside Logan shatters.

"Run off? So I can deal with your problems again? Take care of 'em all nice, outta sight and outta mind?" His voice is colder than the winter snow, and he stands so still his shadow's the lively one. “Maybe this time the man that comes back will be the one y'all remember.”

It seems they'd forgotten exactly what he did out there, putting it out of mind once he'd returned to town, then trying to fit him into the box they'd made for him. But even before all this, they'd never wanted to acknowledge that he made his living through carefully applied violence. Logan is very, very good at killing both men and monsters. Seems the town's conveniently forgotten that part of him.

His face is locked in an icy mask as his eyes turn to Trudy. "Were you just gonna stand back when it was Jasmine? In case you upset him?"

Trudy stammers out her reply. "Well, uh, she's a little young for—"

He interrupts. "She's a little young now, sure. But I bet y'all still think this is somethin' he's just gonna grow out of." His eyes scan the crowd. "How well's that worked out for ya?"

Silence is his only answer. Even Cooper keeps his mouth shut this time.

And that "again" hadn't slipped past him. "This ain't even the first time he's done this, is it?" he demands, though he doesn't expect any of these cowards to answer. "Who else have you abandoned to the wolves by lookin' away?"

The crowd mutters, and Logan catches a handful of names among the murmurs.

"How could y'all have let this go on for so long? This ain't harmless! What if he'd run off Mi-an, or Lucy? Would you have still felt like you were doin' the right thing?"

No one can meet his eyes.

"You called her a hero. But you wouldn't step up, even for her. What happened to y'all? The town I left, the town I fought for, never would have done this."

He'd fought, bled, and suffered for these people. Their memory had kept him going through the cold and hungry nights as he did anything he could to expose Duvos and protect the city. He'd probably washed away their flaws, painting them larger than life in his head, but who could blame him? He had to focus on their virtues, had to keep their memory something to fight for.

Turns out, they're just people.

A part of him hopes this is Matilda's doing, twisting what the town thinks of as forgiveness. Light knows it would've been easy for her, pouring that poisoned honey into the town's ears as they showed up each Sunday. He'd hardly been an avid churchgoer before, but he's refused to step in one for a service since. Now that they have a real school, he doesn't make Andy go, either.

"What's next, y'all gonna pardon Miguel? Maybe let him off with a slap on the wrist, despite the fact that he was a traitor workin' against you for longer than I've been breathin'?" He rakes his glare across the crowd, watching as Burgess flinches.

"We forgave you, though!" a voice from the crowd cries back.

"I served as much time as you allowed," he snaps back. "And I deserved a hell of a lot more."

Logan steps straight up to Hugo, staring him down. "You ain't the man I thought you were, Hugo, and you ain't the man my pa knew neither."

"The rest of y'all," he turns, taking in the rest of the crowd. No one will meet his eyes this time. "Y'all did what was easy, not what was right. You disgust me."

Before he turns to go, he finally sees the kid himself at the edge of the crowd. For once, he's not drawing attention to himself. First smart thing he's done in months. Logan walks forward, bodies parting around him as the townsfolk hurriedly make way. He looms over the shopkeeper, watching the blood drain from his face. "And you," he says, voice hard, hand falling to his gun as he channels every ounce of intimidation he can muster. "If I ever see you doin' somethin' like this again, not even your sister's gonna be able to identify what’s left."

Arvio squeaks, eyes wide, unable to respond.

"You can't just threaten the man. That's a crime!"

Logan scans the crowd, but can't identify whatever idiot just spoke out. His eyes narrow. "That ain't a threat.” He leans a little closer to Arvio and whispers, just for him, “It's a promise."

And with that, he turns on his heel and walks off, past the Civil Corps, and out of town. Eventually, he whistles for Rambo, riding off into the desert to clear his head. His day's shot now, but if he wants to be able to go back to pick Andy up from school he's going to need to calm down. Otherwise, he might still deck Arvio next time he sees him, promise be damned, crime or not.

If they could make him stop loving her, that would be the real crime.

Chapter Text

Wei sips at his tea, savoring the bitter, earthy notes. He hasn't really been listening to Pablo's chatter next to him. It's all gossip for gossip's sake so far this morning, paltry tidbits from around town peppered in with various reactions to Logan's outburst the other day in the town square. Wei's sort of hoping for a little more information pertinent to his work, like who's been talking to their friends about moving to Sandrock, or who's looking to start a new business or get married—things he can use to predict the Guild's workload going forward.

"Can I ask you something?" Wei interrupts.

Pablo nods. "Sure, darling."

"You're... pretty savvy about the townsfolk. I don't want to throw any of my people under the bus, but I'm wondering if you've heard anything about my local junior builder."

Pablo grins. "Ooh, Mi-an? Now there's a story."

"That doesn't sound good."

Pablo waves a delicate hand. "Oh, it sounds worse than it is. I've just been hearing she's really focused on botany lately. She's back to building now, but for a while there her workshop was silent. Spent all her time at the Moisture Farm with Zeke."

Wei frowns. "I know she has an interest in plants, but... that doesn't sound like Mi-an." It's why he'd asked; Mi-an's always been one of his most driven team members, but her throughput has noticeably declined.

"It's really not surprising, given what she's been through, poor thing. Everyone's seen Arvio hanging around at her neighbor's; obviously, she's not going to want to be near that again."

"Again?"

"Mm. It was before your time, but Arvio was very interested in her. Now that it's all blown over, I'm sure she'll be back to normal." Pablo shrugs. "I highly doubt Arvio's going to stick his neck out like that again any time soon, especially after that spectacle."

Wei had heard some of it, attention piqued when he heard Logan shouting. By the time he'd come outside, he'd seen Logan looming over Arvio. Logan had turned on the crowd for a moment, growled something Wei didn't quite catch, and then stormed off. "Logan seemed fairly upset. I'm surprised there wasn't more violence."

"Aren't we all," Pablo muses. "Of course, he wasn't in town when Arvio was going after Mi-an, but if he had been—well, I'm sure Trudy and Owen would have been much more successful at deterring him."

"Deterring Logan?"

Pablo chuckles. "No, deterring Arvio."

Wei had heard a bit more of Logan's tirade from Owen yesterday evening when he went to the saloon for dinner. Logan had gone off like a landmine on the whole town for letting Arvio moon over Lucy, when she had made it obvious she wasn't interested. "I must have missed something. I thought Logan was upset because Arvio was interested in Lucy."

"You mean jealous?" Pablo laughs. "Oh, honey, no. I don't think that man has a jealous bone in his body. Not that I've spent much time contemplating it. I would, if I thought it would do me any good, but I don't think he's into men."

Wei pinches the bridge of his nose. "So, Mi-an's been spending all her time with Zeke because Arvio was interested in her, and Logan threw a fit in the town square because nobody stepped in to deal with it? What's Lucy got to do with all this, then?"

Pablo arches an eyebrow, hiding a giggle behind his hand. "I'm sorry. I forget how new you are to town. Don't worry: Arvio's basically harmless, especially now that the Civil Corps got involved."

Mi-an's not the strongest personality, but she is a respected Guild member with a work ethic that makes power stones look lazy. Wei sets his tea down. "The Civil Corps? Pablo, can you just tell me straight for once, without all the teeth-pulling? I don't see how Arvio is harmless if he's driven one of my top builders away from her work, and was then arrested."

Pablo sets his tea down and scoots closer, voice dropping as if he's divulging the filthiest secret he knows. "It doesn't happen terribly often, but every once in a while, a lady around town will catch our shopkeeper's eye. He's a sweet kid, but he's a bit... misguided. He latched onto Mi-an when she first moved here, and when Trudy and Owen tried to confront him about it, he doubled down. Made a huge stink in the town square about how if he was going to be kept from his true love, they'd have to arrest him and throw him in the stockade. So the Civil Corps put him under house arrest, and Mi-an, of course, didn't show up to talk them down. The next morning, when they let him out, he spent three weeks wandering around town bemoaning the loss of his love and scaring off tourists. It was awful."

"So Mi-an's been hiding out at the Farm because... Arvio's renewed his interest in her?" Wei feels like he's missing a critical piece of information here, because at no point in this story has anyone mentioned Lucy. He knows as well as anyone that Lucy and Logan spend a lot of time together, but he's struggling to see how that relates to Mi-an and Arvio, especially if Logan wasn't in town back then.

Pablo blinks. "Really? I know you spend a lot of time in your office, darling, but you ought to get your nose out of your books more often."

"Pablo," Wei begs. "Just tell me."

"Arvio's been over Mi-an for years. It's Lucy he's been hounding the last few months—ever since the masquerade."

Wei forgets how to breathe. Not only did he fail to follow up with Mi-an when her work started to decline, but he's completely failed to understand Lucy's distress. "I thought Logan was just... being overprotective. Jealous boyfriend kind of thing." He'd even asked about Logan, when it seemed the hunter never left her alone, but she'd just laughed and told him Logan wasn't a problem.

Pablo snorts. "Protective, perhaps, but not jealous. He wouldn't hurt a fly. Surely you've seen how he dotes on that boy of his. As for boyfriend, that's taking it a little far, as I understand it."

Wei doubts Pablo's assertion. If Logan's half as competent as any of the monster hunters on Peripheries expeditions, he's done a lot worse than hurt to a lot more than flies. The hunter on his last expedition had been more than happy to make sure he was in no fit state to follow them back to the guild.

A pensive hum pulls Wei back to the present. Pablo taps his chin. "I do see how you could think that, though. He's always chauffeuring her around to deliver commissions, bringing her materials out of the desert, letting her hide out in his house..."

"What?"

"Mm. She said it was because she was taking care of Andy for him, but who's going to believe that, really? Supposedly Arvio caught them canoodling behind the saloon one evening, but I take his reports with a healthy dash of salt."

Wei drops his head into his hands. In retrospect, it's all so obvious. All it would have taken for him to understand was one straightforward question. He could have asked her directly, instead of assuming he understood the situation.

Pablo's long fingers brush over Wei's shoulders. "Aw, it's alright, sweetheart. We all do our best not to stick our noses in when Arvio gets going, especially since that fiasco with Mi-an. It would have been better to just let him burn himself out, but no, Logan had to go and get everyone in a tizzy."

Wei sits bolt upright. "What?"

"We're just getting back on the map. As soon as the Civil Corps lets him go, he's going to caterwaul through the streets again. Light help us, we'd all better hope he doesn't drive off too many tourists this time." Pablo puts up both hands. “At least he has only two more days.”

"Two more days?!" Wei nearly chokes on the words as the numbers resolve themselves easily in his head: six days in jail for the kinds of things Arvio's done aren't even a stern finger-wag.

"I can’t believe they let him stew in there for four days! He’s going to be a nightmare to deal with when he gets out."

"They waited two days to arrest him?"

Pablo shrugs. "The Captain was indisposed. Hairball, I think, though I don't think he likes people to talk about that behind his back."

Wei blinks and discards the entire statement as an affirmative. "I can't believe it's the tourists you're worried about."

"Oh, they'll be alright in the end. They just won't come back for a while, and the town will suffer." Pablo huffs.

"So you knew all this—you knew he was basically stalking her—and you just... sat back?"

Pablo rolls his eyes. "Oh, please. Who didn't know? It's all flashy showboating anyway. Arvio makes a big deal about waiting on her hand and foot, showing up at her house with a picnic spread, things like that. The tourists eat it up, and come back en force for more. I heard some of them even extended their stay to be in his roving band of singers."

Wei grits his teeth. Hard on yourself, easy on others.

"Oh, come on, he's harmless. And the jail time will scare him off any new episodes for a few more years, if Logan's threat of death and dismemberment didn't do the trick."

"Harmless? It took threats of violence and a bona fide arrest to stop him from terrorizing my people! How was anybody alright with this?" Wei snaps.

Pablo gapes, offended. "Well, you sure seemed alright with it, Mister Commissioner. Don't tell me you didn't notice your guild sinking the last couple of months."

"How was I supposed to know? I've only actually been here a couple of months!" Wei exclaims. "I can't even trust the records, thanks to Yan." He can blame Yan for the records, but he can't blame Yan for his ignorance.

"Ha! Yan? Even he did more for Mi-an than you've done for Lucy. He at least paid attention to his guild's output."

"For the worst possible reason!"

Pablo puts his hands on his hips. "Doesn't change the fact that he did something."

"Oh? And what about you, Pablo?" Ignorance or none, he's not about to let Pablo throw stones when he knew exactly what was going on and didn't do anything about it because of tourism. "You knew what was happening, and you let it happen." He shakes his head. "No wonder Logan was so upset. I don't have much of a personal attachment to this town, if I'm honest. I can't imagine what it must be like to put your life on the line for a group of people like that and have them turn a blind eye to—"

Wei stops, because he does know what that's like. He likes this town, but he doesn't have the kind of bond with it that he had with his old guild chapter. Wei put his own life on the line for his guild, more than once, and they had repaid him by leaving him for dead. To watch that happen and know it had happened before...

Wei gets to his feet. "I should go," he says flatly. Before I say something I'll regret.

Pablo gets up, too. "Why are you acting like we're the monsters? If it got too bad, she would have let Logan at him. It's not like we abandoned her."

"Didn't you?"

"Didn't you?"

Wei swallows a retort and turns on his heel. He needs time to process this, preferably alone.

"I see how it is. You call me out for avoiding drama, but you don't have the balls to stand here and face me."

Wei lets go of the door handle. There are a lot of things he can tolerate, especially after his years alone in the Peripheries, but this? He's hardly innocent in all this, but he's not about to let some spiffed up fruity boy with a pair of scissors and half-assed dreams spout nonsense and drivel at him, and then yell at him for wanting to take five minutes to think about a real problem.

The haze of anger clears just enough for Wei to see his own finger, jabbed squarely into Pablo's chest. Pablo's mouth is agape, and he looks white as a sheet.

Fuck.

"Well. Why don't you just tell this fruity boy how you really feel?"

Wei grits his teeth. He shouldn't stoop, not when he's far from blameless himself. He's done enough damage already, clearly.

"Ooh, he's angry," Pablo taunts.

Fuck it. "Next time, why don't you just put her on a yakmel and send her out into the middle of the fucking desert? At least then she'd know just what kind of town this is."

Pablo scoffs and folds his arms over his chest. "How dare you!"

"You are the self-proclaimed king of gossip in Sandrock. If there's anything to know about anyone, you know it! And you stood by and did nothing for weeks." Anyone outside is going to hear him shouting, but he doesn't particularly care. Let them hear just how fucked up this town is.

"What should I have done, O wise one? You think anyone would have stepped up with me, at the risk of three weeks of caterwauling from that idiot?"

"Yes! I think plenty of people would have stepped up with you, starting with Logan and Zeke. At least they did something to help!"

"Oh, yes, let me just ally myself with a washed-up minister and a convicted criminal. I'm sure my business and my survival won't suffer for it."

"Your survival?" Wei stands toe to toe with Pablo, finger in his face. "Don't fucking talk to me about survival. This town might have it harder than Atara or Highwind, but you all have pretty fucking comfortable lives out here."

Pablo doesn't back down. "Do we, now? You'd know, wouldn't you, with your pinstriped suits and your fancy title. Awful big words from a commissioner who doesn't even have to take commissions for his chapter to be successful."

"You don't know what I've had to endure to get here." Wei scowls and steps back. "And you know what? I'm not giving you the satisfaction." He throws up his hands. "You can have your barbershop and your tea parties and your shitty gossip club. I thought—I hoped—that all that was just a veneer. I wanted to believe you were really a nice guy under the catty gossip, but obviously you're just as shallow as you seem." He turns on his heel and storms out of the barbershop, slamming the door without so much as a glance behind him.

It's late enough in the day that the town square is nearing its bustle point. Arvio's shop has been closed for almost a week, but tourists and townsfolk mill about in front of City Hall and a few are starting to trickle toward the saloon. A few have turned to look at him; he ignores them, taking the cobbled street in long strides to his office.

He slams the door to his office, too, glad to find the place empty. He doesn't need anyone else to see him lose his cool like this. He throws his cupboard open—there's still a surprising amount of alcohol stashed in the back from Yan's tenure that Wei hasn't managed to give away yet—and is met with a small package neatly wrapped in paper and twine. He takes it out and stares at it; under the wrapping is a brick of imported Lucien gray tea. He was supposed to take it to Pablo's, a prelude to a conversation he's been working up to for weeks. Of course, his priorities had materially changed in the last couple of days, and it had fallen to the back of his mind. Now, he isn't sure he ought to give it to Pablo, even as a peace offering. The thought of making peace with Pablo—of even talking to him after all this—makes his stomach churn, and not at all the way it used to.

He stuffs the tea as far back in the cupboard as it'll go and takes out a small glass flask of something bluish-green. He pulls the stopper out and sniffs it. It smells like pure acid; he's not sure it's actually potable.

The door opens behind him, and he reflexively shoves the flask back into the cupboard. "What can I do for you..." he asks as he turns around, pasting on a smile. "Lucy?"

She nibbles on her lip and glances over her shoulder toward the door and the board. "Just wondering if the board's empty because you're validating the forms, or...?"

"You've already had four today." He admires her work ethic, but she's got dark circles under her eyes and she looks paler than usual. Her shoulders droop and she's got a tired sort of drawl in her voice. Now that he's been made painfully aware of just a handful of the things that have been bothering her, he thinks it's probably time for her to take a break and recharge. Now that Arvio's out of the way, however temporarily, she deserves to relax.

"There's always more to do, Wei."

"Not for you, there isn't." Wei sighs. "I'm sorry, Lucy. You need to take a break."

"There's something I haven't heard out of a commissioner before. Yan would never have stopped me from picking up more work."

Fucking Yan. Wei swallows the hot coal of anger that rises in his chest. "You're a good builder, and I know you can handle a lot, but I can't in good conscience let you take on more work. I'm of half a mind to put you on a sabbatical for a few weeks."

"Sabbatical?" Lucy gapes. "Wei, please, just let me work. I can only mindlessly cut so many copper screws. I need the work."

"Why?" He folds his hands on the desk in front of him. "Maybe we can work something out."

"I—" Her eyes go glassy, and her jaw clenches. "I need something to drown out my thoughts, and I'm not much of a drinker. I've always preferred the noise of machinery for getting out of my own head."

Wei sighs. "Is this about Logan's tirade the other day?"

She goes stone-still. "What."

He arches an eyebrow. "He shouted down half of Sandrock in the town square. I'm surprised you didn't hear." He hums thoughtfully. "No, I guess I'm not, if you're in here asking me for more work like this." He gets up out of his chair and circles the desk to lean against it in front of her. He doesn't want to have this conversation as commissioner and builder, with the desk like a wall between them. "What's wrong, Lucy?"

She can't keep her eyes fixed on his. "It's nothing."

"It's not nothing. I know what it's like for everyone to stand by and do nothing while your life falls apart around you."

The tears start to fall, but she wipes them away as quickly as she can. "Course," she mutters. "Everyone else knows about it." She sniffles and throws her hands up. "It's fine. I'm sure I can find something else to do. Civil Corps probably has plenty of bounties."

"Lucy, wait. Please." Wei gets between her and the door. He doesn't feel particularly good about it, but he doesn't have much of a choice. "I want to help in whatever way I can, but I can't help you if I don't know what's going on."

She grits her teeth, and her lips press tightly together as her eyes fill with tears again. "It's stupid and childish. I asked for help, I got it, and then it became a crutch, and I just need to forget that I need him."

He's not an idiot—blind, yes, but not a simpleton—and knowing what he knows now, he's certain she's talking about Logan. "I don't think you do." Wei squeezes her shoulder. "Tell you what." He goes to the cupboard and digs out the tea he's not going to use. "You said you're not much of a drinker. Do you like tea?"

"Uh... yeah. Why?"

He holds out the package to her. "Go home, make yourself a nice strong pot of this, and let yourself enjoy it. Feel whatever you need to feel. Get it all out of your system. Then, get some rest tomorrow and come see me the day after. I'll find you a project to throw yourself into, if you still want it."

She stares at him. "This is from Lucien."

"Yeah."

"This is... not cheap."

"I don't like Lucien gray," he says. "Too sweet for me. But I don't think I'll need it any time soon." He doesn't particularly want to go into details right this second, so he's glad when she doesn't ask.

"Oh. I'm sorry," she says. She's not an idiot, either.

"It's alright. We'll fix it all somehow, won't we? We're builders. That's what we do."

"Yeah. I'll... see you tomorrow." She gestures with the tea. "Thanks again."

He waves as she leaves, then folds his arms over his chest, leans against the desk, and studies the floor. He feels a little better having made some kind of reparation at all, but he knows it's not enough. The town owes their senior builder an immeasurable debt, and so far they've only managed to dig themselves deeper.

Wei takes a handful of commission forms out of his desk drawer and riffles through them as he walks back up the street to his workshop. He pins them under a rock, lays his jacket over the fence, rolls up his sleeves, and gets to work while he contemplates how, exactly, Sandrock is going to rally behind its heroes.

She’s been working herself to the bone. Normally, she can push just far enough that the world fades away, that all that matters is the task at hand, the turn of the wrench, the cut of the saw. It’s never been hard to find before, just something that happens once enough pressure and work build up that nothing else matters—that nothing else could matter. It’s saved her more times than she can count in the last couple of years, as despite her best efforts, the town tried to crumble around her.

The last few days she’s worked herself into the ground, trying to find it, trying to escape the loss that nips at her heels everytime she sees them around town. He won’t even meet her eyes, but every single time, she returns to the workshop and pushes harder.

She still hasn’t found it.

If only Wei hadn’t put his foot down. She’s been hiding it fine, but someone had clearly told him that she's falling apart. Of course, she put up a good fight, but the ban stayed. The click of the lock behind her was deafening in the silent evening.

She hadn’t really meant to do it, but her feet took her right to Logan’s door. It wasn’t really surprising. Over the last couple months, she’d walked that path often enough that she could have done it blind. If she was going to have to think about things, she at least wanted to confront the man behind the thoughts.

Unfortunately, when she walked up, the house was dark. Rambo wasn’t out front. His food trough was empty and his water dish dry, so Logan must just not have been home yet from patrol. For all she knows, he could be doing them overnight now. Once, Andy would have—should have—stayed with her for that, but now… she doesn’t know who’s taking care of the boy. If he’d only ask, she’d watch Andy, but it’s been days since he's said so much as a word to her in passing.

She didn’t bother waiting for him. Instead, she’d walked back home, and fallen asleep before three for the first time in days.

When she finally woke up, it was mid-morning. She managed to burn a few hours tidying up, but when the sun started its downward descent, she found herself contemplating whether she should clean her grout again.

She knows she's stalling. It's time to bite the bullet.

She opens her door into the wall of oppressive heat that makes up most seasons of Sandrock. Even this early autumn afternoon is still hotter and drier than any day in Highwind, even in the heart of summer. When she’d first arrived it had been debilitating, but now she thinks she’d miss it, were she to ever leave.

Across the tracks she can hear children’s laughter, including Andy’s distinctive fake-laser noises. She could probably pick him out by ear alone from half a mile away, even if he isn’t—

She bricks that thought back up into the place in her mind where she keeps those kinds of things. He isn’t hers. And there’s no more to that.

When she walks closer, she can see him playing some game with Jasmine at the far end of the oasis, the two of them taking advantage of the new water policies to actually swim for once in their lives. Worryingly, neither of them are doing it particularly well, but maybe Lucy’s biased. No child of East Highwind left elementary school without being able to swim across a mostly safe stretch of ocean. It was just basic safety.

Logan’s there, watching from the sidelines with Heidi. They must be talking, but there’s no way she can make out the conversation. Heidi looks peeved, her back ramrod-straight and fists clenched, while Logan slumps like he's had the wind knocked out of him. He isn’t looking at Heidi—or, more worryingly, at the kids in the water.

Andy sees her before anyone else, paddling over to be closer to her bank—and to the oasis’s outlet into the canyon.

"Careful there, buddy," she calls out. "Don’t go too far."

He grins, swimming closer despite the warning. "Lucy! Look, I can swim!"

"Yeah, that's great." She's about to warn him again when the unthinkable happens.

Water’s not safe. Lucy knows that. It’s been drilled into her head by years of lessons, months of swimming practice, and the long lists of lost sailors that adorn the monuments of Highwind. No city knows its danger more.

Sandrock does not know this. Until very, very recently, the idea of having enough water available for recreation was laughable. If you asked someone what that would conceivably look like, they’d probably be able to imagine at most, a few extra minutes in the shower. Maybe a fancy bath, if they were feeling wasteful. Being able to swim at all has been a pipe dream for these people for longer than she's been alive. People like that, to whom water is both scarce and sacred, don’t understand its danger.

The oasis has no lifeguards, no safety lines. It doesn’t even have a grate over the overflow. Why protect people from something everyone reveres?

Andy gets pulled right into the current, and swiftly carried towards the drop. He doesn’t know he’s in danger, face childishly bright as the water carries him along. He bobs gently, laughing as the water moves him, ignorant of what that really means. Lucy's already following at a jog, hoping he'll hit a bank or a shallows where he can stop himself, when the undertow dunks him. He's under for a frighteningly long time, half a dozen heartbeats thudding in Lucy's ears as she picks up speed, and reappears for a fraction of a second, eyes wild as he gasps and disappears again. This time, he doesn't come up, and even from here, she can see his struggles slowing.

Fear courses through her and she drops into a sprint, shouting his name. She aims downstream—like shooting a moving target, she's got to lead her aim. If she can cut him off before the first drop—

She springboards off the rocks, launching herself into a shallow dive just ahead of him. She gets one arm around him, trying to hold him up and let him take one gasp of air. Before she can grab something—anything—to stop them, they start to fall.

Andy’s in full panic, gasping and coughing as he takes on water. In his desperation, he’s pushing her under too. He's dangerous like this, even as small as he is, fighting for just one more breath of air at the cost of anyone or anything around him. In her own panic, she might have doomed herself as well. He pushes her under again, and she takes in a mouth full of water. Coughing and spluttering, she tries to keep him up, tries to push him out onto the bank at least, but the current’s too fast. They’re being swept away, and she can't even keep her head above water long enough to see a way out, let alone act on it.

It's only been a handful of seconds, but in his panic Andy’s already breathed in too much water. He can’t stop coughing, and she can’t keep him above the water with the current trying its damnedest to pull them both under. Panic grips her with white knuckles as he starts to go limp in her arms. Black spots spill across her vision as she fights for breath, fights to keep her son from drowning, but deep inside she knows she’s doomed. The next fall is just ahead, and the drops only get worse, until they’ll be splattered into the canyon below.

The rope lands around her just before they hit the fall, tightening with a snap. It digs painfully into her flesh, but she’ll gladly trade that pain for salvation. Logan hauls them out, grabbing her roughly by the arm and pulling them up onto solid ground. He crouches next to her, but she can’t see him, still trying to cough up what feels like half the oasis. She tries to lean over Andy, she knows he needs air but she can’t even get a breath for herself. Thankfully, Logan sees what she’s trying to do and takes over, shouldering her out of the way as his calloused hands take over with practiced ease.

As soon as Andy’s eyes fly open he’s coughing up water just like she is, hard enough that it’s painful to hear.

She wants to yell, but she can’t. Not when she’s still trying to get enough air into her own lungs. The black tunnel’s finally started to recede, allowing her to take in Logan’s wild eyes and panicked face. She can’t lecture them, not right now. Not when Andy’s already sobbing through the coughs. And Logan's talking now, too, words coughed up in his panic as surely as if he'd been drowning in them.

How he’s sorry he hadn’t listened. How he hadn’t known. How they’d almost died.

When he saw them go over the edge, his heart stopped. His feet were already in motion, following a command she hadn't yet given, when he heard Lucy scream Andy’s name. He whistled for Rambo without a second thought, the particular shrill tone used only for emergencies. This’ll be the third time he’s ever had to actually use it.

The goat gallops up just after Logan gets Lucy and Andy out of the drink. There’s no tack on Rambo, no saddle, no reins, no nothing, but Logan’s done this before. He boosts himself up bareback, and hooks his legs for balance as he reaches back towards Lucy. She’s coughing, almost bent double, but desperately lifting Andy up to him. He uses one hand to grab the boy and the other her wrist.

"You too, come on," he orders, not waiting for an answer. After that dip, she'll need the doc as well. He hauls them both up in front of him, holding them in place with one arm and grabbing one of Rambo’s horns with the other. Lucy doesn’t protest, letting him manhandle her into position as the goat takes off in a wild burst of speed. He can feel her shaking where she’s pressed against him, and Andy’s hacking cough echoes with every hoofbeat.

Rambo gets them there fast, and in one piece. He’ll owe him later. Grabbing the goat by the horn like that hurts, and Logan wasn’t exactly gentle in his haste. But he can’t worry about that right now, not when he’s pulled up in front of the clinic with a clatter of hooves, hitting the ground hard when he leaps off the goat’s back. He reaches back to grab them, and she hands Andy down to him; without some juggling, he won't be able to carry them both.

She looks half in shock, so he grabs her arm, pulling her down as gently as he can. Unfortunately, considering the situation, and the rush, it ain’t that gentle. She coughs and stumbles as she waves him on, following him into the clinic. The doc's already halfway to the door, roused by the sound of the commotion.

Fang’s unflappable even in the face of Logan’s panic, but that’s not unexpected. This is his bread and butter, just like Logan’s is hoppers and tripions. If Fang was worried, Logan doesn't know what he’d do.

The doc takes the two of them back, shaking his head at Logan, a regretful furrow between his brows. Logan wants to fight it, wants to be there with them no matter what, but he knows how worked up he is. He’d be more harm than good, so he takes the rebuke with as much grace as he can. It ain’t much, but he only mutters the swears instead of shouting them, and leaves the clinic to do so at that.

Under the clinic's awning, he leans his head against Rambo’s, scratching behind the goat’s ears and massaging around the horn he'd handled so roughly. The scene won’t stop playing out behind his eyelids, but he pushes it down with the knowledge that they’re alive. He got to them in time. Eventually, his heart rate calms and the panic recedes until he can take a deep breath. Rambo snorts, gently headbutting him and pushing him back in the direction of the clinic.

Lucy’s on her way back out, almost running into him when he enters the narrow entryway that functions as a lobby. He can’t stop himself; his arms are around her before he can even register the thought.

"Thank you," he whispers desperately into her hair. "Thank you. I already lost you. I can’t lose Andy, too."

She pulls back, a puzzled look on her face. He already mourns the loss of how she felt in his arms.

"What do you mean, lost me?" she asks, voice carefully controlled and razor sharp. "You pushed me away. Light above, Logan, you let Andy think I was dying."

Logan stops short, replaying what she said. "Dyin'?"

"He didn't tell you?" When he doesn’t respond, still trying to figure out what she’s on about, she throws up her hands. "Okay, fine. I'm glad—at least there's that. But it doesn't change the fact that you drove me off. Don’t go saying you lost me."

He blinks. "I asked you, begged you to stay, and you told me I'd get over it." For all he tries not to think about it, he’s replayed that memory half a hundred times, desperately trying to figure out how it might have gone well. Haru’s always told him that ain't healthy, but it was Haru’s damn advice that got him into this mess. Or at least, that part of it.

"Logan," she stares up at him, eyes wide. "What are you talking about?"

"I told you I was lost without you. That I wanted to go back to what we had before, was all." His shoulders slump, and he looks away from her. "I wasn’t pushin’ for anything more. An’ you still said no."

"What do you mean I said no?" she asks indignantly, the whisper harsh in the quiet of the clinic. She whips her head around to check if Fang’s heard, but Logan hasn’t seen him so much as twitch. Either he can’t, or he’s specifically ignoring them. "When the hell did I say no to that?"

"You tol’ me, it'll get easier. Just give yourself time." He wants to spit those words out angrily, but he can’t. The only thing threading through his voice is exhaustion, the adrenaline of the emergency fading rapidly.

"What?" Her hands fly to her mouth, then up to her forehead after a moment spent gawking at him. "Logan, I thought you were talking about your pa! Are you saying—" She pauses, clearly trying to gather her thoughts.

He’s frozen in place, all kinds of thoughts flitting through his head. She’d rejected him. Clearly rejected him. Why hadn’t he asked more questions?

"I don't want what we had before. I don’t want to use you as a shield, Logan, I—"

The traitorous ember of hope that had kindled in his chest is snuffed before it can even start to burn. He turns away. Just his luck, he’d be rejected not once, but twice. At this rate, he’ll be going after Arvio’s record.

Lightning quick, she grabs the strap across his chest, stopping him short. Weird, she never seemed like the type to kick him while he’s down.

"I didn’t want that, because I wanted us to be a real family."

It takes him a breath to even realize what she’s said. He looks down at her face with dawning disbelief, but pulls her into another hug. She hugs him back this time, even tighter than he’d grabbed her a minute ago. "Darlin’, I—" he chokes up. The words can’t get past the lump in his throat. Not now, not yet.

Regardless, he does his best not to hope. He has to hold it together, to balance on this knife edge without cutting himself open again. If all she wants is a family, he can live with that. He’ll cut out the piece of himself that wants more. Whatever scraps she’ll throw him, he’ll take gladly, as long as she’s there. But he can’t deal with having his heart shattered again.

Fang’s finally started to turn around, so Logan shifts his attention towards him. He doesn’t bother to let Lucy go, but as soon as she notices she pushes herself away from him, pink-cheeked. Logan wouldn’t care if the doc or Andy—or hell, anyone—saw. But clearly she does. He keeps back a sigh. If she’ll only hug him in private, fine. Something, anything, is better than the nothing he’s had. It doesn’t matter anymore.

Fang’s got Andy with him. The boy’s more subdued than normal, studying his feet as he walks.

"Rest."

That’s all Fang’s got to say. Logan looks around for X, just in case there’s anything more, but it seems that’s it. Just rest.

Fang looks at him. "Her too."

That’s… more of a shock. Perhaps Fang was listening, if he’s telling Logan this. Or he just worries. Lucy ain’t known to take breaks at the best of times. She’s likely to just keep working through this regardless.

Logan nods back at Fang. "Got it. What do I…"

Fang holds up a hand. "No charge." And with that, he turns, walking back off into the clinic, not even bothering to laugh at Logan’s dumbstruck expression. He normally hates when the townsfolk pull this on him, like he doesn't know the real price of what he's getting, but today he'll take it. Like all the rest, he’ll pay them back someday, somehow.

Logan manages to get himself together quick enough, and starts to shepherd the two back home. Lucy will just have to come with them tonight. After the doctor’s order, he ain’t about to let her go back to work. She can use the new spare bed in Andy's room.

The sun is low in the sky as they walk back through town, long shadows stretching from the buildings. Beside him, Lucy starts shivering. Her clothes are soaked, and Andy, in not much more than a bathing suit, is starting to look equally miserable. Logan doesn’t pause his step, but he does take off his cape, wrapping it around her like a blanket. Afterward, he picks up his pace and Andy, getting the two of them in the house before either of them look too blue.

Andy runs up to his room, some of his usual exuberance starting to return in the comfort of their home, but Lucy just stands there with him, unsure of his plans. He takes her upstairs, tossing her the shirt she's borrowed in the past. She turns around to change as he steps out to make sure Andy hangs up his wet things.

Once Lucy shuffles out of his room, he herds everyone to the couch. She smiles when she sees it. "I’m glad you kept it."

He disguises his flinch by shifting to give Andy a little more space. It’d been tempting to pass it on. Not that it wasn’t a good piece of furniture, not that he didn’t use it, but she’d made it. And seeing it every day, being reminded of her and the touches she’d made on his house and his life, had been torture. That, and the whole town would've had wind of it within the hour. He doesn’t say any of that, doesn’t let it show, just waits for her to sit down with Andy on the couch.

The kid seems happy, at least. It’s been weeks since they were all together for more than a few minutes. If only it hadn’t taken something like this for it to happen.

Logan's soft footfalls on the stairs bring Lucy back to wakefulness. She blinks in the low light; the sun set while they were comforting Andy. Outside the window, the sky is in the last gasp of twilight, the first of the evening stars twinkling through the glass. Andy's out of sight; Logan must have carried the boy up to bed.

His face is cast in shadow, but at least he's dispensed with the hat. There's nothing to block her view of him except the walls he's keeping up. He sits down on the other side of the couch, as far away as possible. Warning bells sound in the back of Lucy's mind. Even when he'd been pulling away she'd still had some clues as to what he was thinking. She's known him long enough now to catch a glimpse of his thoughts in his eyes, or his mood in his gait. She can't see anything now, not behind his guarded withdrawal.

"We need to talk."

His stare is blank, and he's reined his accent so far back that there's only a bare trace of Sandrock drawl spilling out. They're the first words he's said to her since they left the clinic, since he'd called her darling and then cut himself off. She's missed that, missed him. Now, she's terrified.

"Alright…" She tries to contain her nerves, focusing on blinking away the lingering grogginess. Pulling herself upright, she turns to fully face him.

"I liked what we had, before it all fell apart. Being a family, seeing you all the time but I—" he pauses, gathering his composure back up like a cloak around him. "I wanted more. I wanted to actually take you out, to kiss you goodnight, to wake up with you."

He shakes his head; looking at her seems to take an effort of will. "We can go back to what we had, if you're willing. That's all I'm asking for. But I had to get that off my chest. I won't make any more trouble."

She listens intently, heart in her throat, until he finally finishes.

"So... yeah..." He rubs the back of his neck awkwardly, watching her reaction.

Silence falls, swift and smothering. The choking miasma drives the breath from her lungs.

She doesn't know what to say, how to respond to that. There are a thousand thoughts flying through her head, each fighting to escape, and every emotion from joy to despair. How'd she not know, how'd she not seen this? If she had, if she'd seen her own longing reflected back at her, what would she have done?

The only thing she's sure of more than anything else, is that she's hurt him badly. There's no way she'll ever be able to apologize enough for that, but she can at least start now.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

Unfortunately, it doesn't have the effect she had in mind. Logan pulls further back in on himself, head bowed like he's waiting for a blow to fall. If he'd been wearing his hat, she'd be unable to see his face at all.

She tries to reach out, laying her hand across the back of the couch, offering comfort.

He flinches, but still doesn't look at her. She fights past the vise in her throat, trying to make him understand. "I never meant to hurt you, Logan."

It's not nearly enough. He doesn't reach for her or make any move in her direction, so she shifts deliberately into his space.

"Do you trust me?" she asks, trying to remember back to weeks ago, when he'd done something similar. Had he felt then what she feels now, this wish to explain something so important, but being unable to find the words? Or had he really only done it to protect her?

There's no response, just that continued cold stillness. Fear prickles the back of her neck, but she moves closer, until she can brush her thumb across his lips. Maybe this he'll understand.

He finally looks up. His face is blank—not expressionless, but only just. She remembers when they'd confronted him for the kidnapping, how stoic he'd seemed, even as he bantered back. It's that same face, hiding everything beneath a mask of pain.

Finally, he nods hesitantly. She would sigh in relief, if she wasn't still too afraid to breathe. At least she still has that; it's the best she's going to get for now.

She presses her lips against his, and he barely responds. She pours her feelings into the kiss, trying to make him understand what she feels about him, one hand cupped against his face, but he's stock still, chapped lips doing little more than opening under her onslaught. Desperate, she climbs into his lap to press deeper, his hands instinctively catching her hips. She's making all the moves, and he's barely moving.

Not like this.

When she pulls back, his cheeks are pink and his lips are a little swollen, but those blue eyes are blank, unfocused as they follow her. Even the bandit that had ridden past her, water tower burning behind him, had displayed more emotion than this.

The hands on her waist start to pull back. Dread creeps up her throat like a strangling vine.

"It's too late for us, isn't it?" Knowing what she knows now, it's clear that he'd been asking Howlett that night in the graveyard for advice on how to talk to her. She doesn't doubt it was a result of Andy's question. If she hadn't trespassed on his privacy, would he have talked to her? If she had asked a better question, would he have told her how he felt?

Would he have told her he loved her?

She crumbles, curling in on herself until she just sees her hands bunched against his vest. Unable to stop, she fills the silence with words, just like she always does. Words she means, words that she extracts from within her as painfully, as violently as raw ore, dumping them between them unrefined.

"Light's sake, if I'd known—I should have known. I can't believe I fucked this up so badly. You were always there, and I took all of it for granted. I took you for granted, even if I never meant to. I never meant to. You've always been there when I needed you, even when you didn't want to be, and I don't know what I'll do without you." She sniffles, scrubbing a hand across her face to hide the tears. It's not particularly effective, but it's not like she can stop them from falling. "But I'll manage. I will. For you, and for Andy."

His hands tighten on her waist, and when she looks up, his eyes have come back into focus. She watches as a crack breaks through the stone of his expression.

"Wait," he whispers. It's soft, quiet, barely even audible.

His jaw works as he tries to figure out what he's going to say next. He's struggling with something, pale eyes closing as he fights to get out whatever it is he wants to ask, searching for the right words just like she had. Finally, he looks at her—through her.

"Tell me true. What do you want?" The accent he's been keeping clipped is coming back, the words rolling together more as the mask slips. The cracks are wider, but he's still trying to hold himself back.

"You. Whatever you're willing to give." She pleads, begging him to understand.

"No, I need—" His voice breaks, and he looks away for a second to compose himself before continuing. "I need you to tell me. I gotta know exactly what you want. That you ain't just putting up with it for me. I can't—I won't—let you tie yourself down for my sake."

She takes a deep breath, breaking eye contact to look over his shoulder. Really, she should look him in the eye for this, but she can't. If she's going to pour her heart out, really tell him how she feels, she can't watch his rejection. She'd shatter.

"I want to wake up in your arms every morning. I want boys with your hair and girls with your eyes. I want us to grow old together. I want you, and—"

The desperate flow of words dies by the crush of his mouth against hers, catching her mid sentence. This time he presses against her, one hand on her hip the other threaded through her hair. He pulls her closer until she's flush against him and dizzy from the lack of air. Even as her lungs burn, she kisses back, not daring to break away until he does. When he finally pulls back his face is flushed, his eyes brimming with joy.

"Yes, I want that."

"All of that?" she asks breathlessly. She props a hand against his broad shoulder to steady herself, the room spinning unsteadily around her. Around them.

"All of that and more," he responds, squeezing her closer against him and burying his face against her neck. "I love you." She hums happily, rubbing her face against his head.

"I love—love you too," is all she manages to gasp out before feverish kisses begin to trail down her neck. They steal her breath away even as she tilts her head to give him more space, the rough stubble of his jaw causing her to shiver. “Log—” she’s cut off by the nip of teeth beneath the corner of her jaw, the sharp sensation drawing a gasp from her lips. Her hands fist into his shirt as she tries to steady herself, but her heart skips another beat as he drops a tender kiss against her pulse point. The onslaught only stops when he recaptures her lips with his own.

Time ceases meaning anything as her world narrows to just the press of his lips against hers, and the burning feeling of his hands against her skin. It's like the bottom dropped out of her stomach, like she's flying and she never wants to stop.

The next time he pulls away for air, she can't help but wonder, "Light, could we have been doing this all this time?"

He laughs breathlessly. "If ya'd asked…"

"If I'd asked?" she says indignantly. "You could have—" She stops herself as a wide smile breaks out across his face. She hasn't truly seen that smile in weeks, and its return fills a hole in her heart she'd forgotten was bleeding.

"Listen, I ain't so good with words." He kisses the tip of her nose gently, like he just can't stop himself. "You mighta figured that out by now."

She laughs, kissing just beneath his ear and whispering, "More of an... actions guy?"

A happy sigh echoes in her ear as he noses her cheek. His warm hands rub circles into her back where they've snuck up under her borrowed shirt. The weapon callouses lightly catch and drag against her skin. "Yeah, somethin' like that."

She pulls back a little, taking in his hazy gaze and bright smile. Her fingers toy with the top button of his vest. "Do you want me to stay? I can come back—" He shifts, freeing a hand to press a thumb briefly against her lips.

"You really think Andy would forgive me if I let you leave again?" His voice is fond, filled with quiet wonder.

Putting one palm on his chest, she leans forward, looking directly into his eyes as she asks seriously, "Do you. Want me. To stay?" Her face heats, but she carefully punctuates each sentence by popping a button on his vest. After all the miscommunication they've had lately, this had better be clear.

He blinks, eyes sharpening as he looks at her face and takes in her actual question. Her blush intensifies under the scrutiny. What a mess she must look after everything that's happened. His hands fall back to her waist as he pulls her closer, until she's snugly straddling him. Just before he captures her lips in another searing kiss, he whispers in her ear, "Darlin', I ain't ever gonna want you to leave."

Logan walks back from the school at a pace just below a dead run. In his experience, anything more than that tends to get folks alarmed. He only dipped out for a moment, long enough to pop by and tell Jane that Andy won't be in today. He didn't even need to explain why. With Heidi looking on, the whole town knew what happened before they'd even made it to the clinic.

He left Lucy curled up half asleep in his bed, and damned if he isn't eager to get back to her. If someone had told him even yesterday that he'd be able to wake up to her there again, he'd have strongly—and perhaps violently—disbelieved them.

Unfortunately for the fate of his quick jaunt, just as he's rounding the back slope toward his house, he catches sight of Heidi—or rather, she catches sight of him. She moves quickly to intercept him, heels clicking against the cobblestone street.

"Logan!" she calls, stopping directly in his path. She doesn't even give him enough time to say hello before she continues. "I can't believe what happened! Is Andy alright?"

Logan nods. "Doc says he just needs rest, so we're staying home for the day."

Heidi shakes her head. "I'm so glad Lucy was there. It all happened so fast." She sighs. "None of us had any idea it might be unsafe. I'm just glad we got this wakeup call before there was a tragedy."

The fact that it had been so close still chills him down to his bones. That memory is sure to have a starring role in his nightmares. It can share the spotlight with his pa dying in his arms, wheezing a desperate warning through bloody lips and shredded lungs. Perhaps it'll even replace some of the miscellaneous horror that haunts him: the empty eyes of the Duvos dead, the mangled remains of Andy's family, or any of the other travelers he'd been too late to save.

He'd been too caught up in his own personal tragedy, and had only taken his eyes off Andy for a minute as Heidi berated him. Turns out even a minute was too long. And honestly, even if he had been watching, he can't say he'd have known what to look for. Whatever it was, Lucy had obviously known.

Heidi had been tearing into him for not apologizing to Lucy yet, just like her father had, but unfortunately for Logan, she'd come armed with evidence as to what that was doing to the builder. The long days, and longer nights, where she'd thrown herself into work until she was little more than a dark-eyed wraith flitting about town. Not that he could have thrown stones; he'd been doing much the same.

If Lucy hadn't been passing by, he would have lost Andy forever. As it was, if he'd been just a second slower, just a hair less practiced with the rope, he'd have lost them both. And if that had happened—

He can't think about that, about how he'd pull himself along as an empty shell, his few spots of precious brightness snuffed like errant candles.

Heidi reaches a hand out, shattering his reverie, and Logan shies away reflexively. She gives him a sad, almost pained smile, and says, "I'm going to commission a safety grate, among other things, for the oasis."

"I'll chip in." Logan offers. His fines are almost paid, and regardless, when compared to his son's life, or that of his—whatever she is to him now—no price is too high. He'll go into the Peripheries itself for bounties if need be, as long as they're safe.

Heidi's face twists as she tries to think of a way to turn him down without hurting his pride. He won't miss that when it's gone.

They continue to walk toward his house, but Logan slows his usual stride to keep pace with Heidi.

She glances at him quizzically. "Dressin' down some today, are we?"

When he'd ducked out of the house, he hadn't bothered with his usual armor. Someone had done a very thorough job of distracting him as he'd been trying to leave, and before he knew it he'd lost track of time. By then, it wasn't worth the bother to put on more than the basics, and he'd wanted to get out and back as fast as possible.

"Next thing I know, you might even let your gun out of your sight," Heidi teases.

Logan looks away, feeling the tips of his ears burn. He had, in fact, let his gun out of his sight just last night. With everything that had been going on after Andy was asleep—well, he hadn't lost track of it, but he'd sure let it get out of arm's reach.

Heidi, emboldened by his reactions to her teasing, follows him right up to his door.

The door swings open silently, but as he steps inside he sees Heidi startle, eyes widening. He turns. Lucy's walking down the stairs, dressed in the now dry clothing she wore yesterday with one exception: the borrowed button up is pulled on over her shirt and left open like an oversized jacket.

Heidi steps inside after him, staring as Lucy meanders down the steps to the kitchen. Logan tenses slightly. They'd been a mite too distracted to figure out all the exact details of their relationship last night, though at least they're now mostly on the same page. Although, judging by her behavior at the clinic—

His train of thought is forcefully and thoroughly derailed as she walks over and slips under his arm, wrapping her own around his waist and hooking a thumb through his belt loop. Thankfully, he's able to keep the surprise off his face, because Heidi is looking at them like the Day of Bright Sun came early, and she's snagged every gift.

"Oh, thank the Light," she says, hands together over her mouth in prayer. "You made up."

Logan blinks, trying to figure out the correct reaction. They had made up, or at least, figured some things out. But—

Lucy steps in smoothly, picking up on Logan's unease. "Yeah," she says, looking up at him fondly. "I think we figured it out."

Logan doesn't think he could have kept the smile off his face for anything. Distantly, he hears the door close as Heidi slips back out, very likely to go find a recipient for this fresh dose of gossip. He sighs. "The whole damn town is gonna know by midday."

Lucy grins up at him. "Good. It'll save me the trouble of making sure everyone knows you're off the market."

He raises an eyebrow, puzzled. "That I am?"

She shifts to face him, moving so both her arms are twined around his neck. "Well, one of us is an incredibly handsome, talented monster hunter. Seems I'd best lock that down." Her eyes sparkle with mischief.

His cheeks burn as he deflects with a self-deprecating smile. "Oh, you steppin' out on me already?" The look she shoots him is decidedly unamused. Hesitantly, he wraps his arms around her. "Are you sure?" Before she can reply, he forges on ahead. "I ain't nothin' more than I can do with a knife, or a gun. You sure this is what you want?"

Her eyes soften, and she pulls out a pendant from beneath her shirt. It's the same one he'd pressed into her hand on Shonash Canyon Bridge, hoping she'd understand what he was really trying to say. He'd recognize that carving anywhere. Hours of effort had been poured into it, until the tree was practically lifelike, bent slightly by an unseen breeze. He'd had to break out a magnifying glass for the more fiddly detail, like the grain of the bark and the veins on the leaves.

"You kept it?" he asks with quiet amazement, unable to believe his eyes.

"Of course I kept it. I love you. First thing I did when I got to the workshop was forge a chain." Her smile turns fond, and she brushes a quick kiss to his lips, pulling away before he can respond. "I never took it off, just in case it brought you back to me. And it did."

He squeezes her close, pressing his forehead against hers. "Darlin', I love you too, more than I got words for. But—"

She cuts him off with another quick kiss. "No. You're good for so many things, Logan. You're a great father, and a loyal man. You take bad out of the world, and you put good into it." She looks him solidly in the eye. "You're more than I deserve."

Now, that's just not true. Even though he's selfishly glad she's chosen him, he knows she's got infinitely more prospects than he does. She kisses him again before he can spiral too far into self-doubt. He'd be frustrated by her repeated interruption, if he could remember how to think.

Before they can get to the point they were at last night, or again this morning for that matter, Andy bursts out of his room. He takes the stairs two at a time before he looks over, eyes wide with excitement.

"Aw yeah! She's back! Now I ain't gotta eat everything burnt!"

Heidi nearly takes the stairs two at a time in her haste to get to Pablo's. When she'd first heard about Logan's tirade, she'd been livid. How dare he attack her father—even verbally—in full view of the whole town. Of course, then she'd heard what the conversation was about, and she'd been furious that she hadn't been there to back Logan up. Sometimes she wondered where the happy-go-lucky boy with his heart on his sleeve had gone. Then he'd go and do something like that, reminding her that he was still there, lying in wait beneath the desert-scoured surface.

Poetry's still not her strong suit.

"Nobody panic," she declares as she sweeps into Pablo's shop and takes her seat next to Amirah. "I come bearing so much news." She grins.

Amirah leans in, worry etching lines into her perfect, pretty face. "What about Andy? Is he alright?"

Heidi waves a hand. "He's alright. Got the day off school, but I'm sure he'll be right as rain by tomorrow."

Pablo doesn't say anything. She waits a second, just in case, but he's silent. Odd. Normally, he'd at least express concern for the kid. He's not family-focused, but he's not callous.

Heidi leans towards Amirah. "Is he... alright?"

"He's got something," Amirah says. "He won't say what it is. I'm pretty sure it'll be the next thing out of his mouth, though. Look at his eyes."

Pablo tears his eyes away from them and studies the door.

"Well, I'm sure he'll be real happy to know Trudy's already approved the commission for safety measures at the oasis. Wei's barred Lucy from taking commissions for a few days, so I'll be working with Mi-an to get the grate installed as soon as possible."

Heidi had been sure the mere mention of Wei would pique Pablo's interest, but he remains stalwartly distanced from the conversation. "Damn, he is really sulking," she mutters to Amirah. "I wonder if now's a bad time to ask if he might be able to convince the commissioner to give the city a discount, since this is an emergency."

Pablo rounds on her. "I don't mix my work and play," he says primly.

Heidi can feel Amirah's suppressed laughter shaking the couch. "Uh-huh," Heidi says. "Sure ya don't. I'll take that as a 'no', then?"

"I don't want to talk about him."

Heidi exchanges a glance with Amirah, and then Amirah says, "You... don't want to talk about those pinstripes?"

Pablo's jaw clenches. "No. I don't."

Heidi puts up both hands. "Alright, ya don't. Guess I'll just have to keep what I saw this morning to myself, then."

Amirah pouts—for show, because even if Heidi is holding out on Pablo, she'll tell Amirah later—and Pablo's eyes flash dangerously. "You wouldn't."

"You know I would." Heidi holds out her little finger. "I will if you do."

Pablo narrows his eyes, but he hooks his little finger around hers and keeps it there.

"I ran into Logan on the way down the hill from the school."

Amirah clears her throat. "Sorry, love, but that's a foul."

"He didn't have any armor on him," she adds.

Pablo's eyes shoot up. "I had tea with Wei yesterday morning," Pablo scowls.

"Also a foul," Amirah says. "Sorry."

"He seemed to agree with Logan, and he was not nice about it." Pablo's lips thin. "He implied I was just as bad as Arvio because I didn't personally make a big fuss in front of the whole town. As if I wouldn't have done something about it if I could have."

Heidi lets go of his little finger and sits back. She won't rub sand in an open wound. "Oh. Oh, Pablo, I'm so sorry." She's not sorry that Wei tore into him; Light knows the three of them all said things a few days ago that they sorely regretted, things they didn't mean. She is sorry that his argument with Wei affected him like this. In all their time together, she's never known him to be sweet on anyone the way he's sweet on Wei.

"It's fine. Clearly, it was a business relationship, and he wasn't interested even in being friends, let alone—" Pablo clears his throat. "It's fine. I don't care."

Amirah gives Heidi a significant look and tips her head almost imperceptibly toward Pablo. Heidi rolls her eyes. "I don't think that's true. Any of it."

"Oh, I'm sorry. Did I fail to mention that he called me a 'fruity boy' with 'half-assed dreams'?"

Heidi hisses through her teeth. "Pablo..."

"I said it's fine. What else?"

Heidi considers pressing him for more, making him talk about this argument with Wei that's clearly not fine. But he's sitting ramrod straight, which tells her he's barely keeping himself together as it is, and the best thing she can do is chatter. "Well, he was still wearin' the gun, but he seemed real happy."

Amirah's eyebrows shoot up. "You mean...?"

Heidi smirks. "Well, she was wearin' his shirt over the clothes she wore yesterday."

Amirah squeals and claps a hand over her mouth. "No! I don't believe it. Clothes don't prove anything. She stays there so often anyway, and there's never been any indication—"

"She had her fingers in his belt loop," Heidi says flatly. "If he wasn't so tall she'd have kissed him right in front of me. She looked like a cat that's finally got the cream. Mighta been a grain of truth buried in Arvio's saloon story after all."

Amirah flushes a pretty pink and ducks her head. "Ah. Well. I suppose that's fairly solid evidence." She reaches into a pocket and slips a few gols to Heidi. "I don't know why I ever bet against either of you."

Pablo hasn't responded to any of this, which is highly unusual for him. Heidi thought for sure the belt loop tidbit would have at least gotten some reaction from him.

"How did he look?" he asks, feigning disinterest.

Heidi smirks. "Like a man who's finally doin' more than just survivin'."

Pablo stiffens, hands tightening in his lap. "Well," he breathes. "Good for him."

“Speakin' of overstayin' our welcome,” Heidi says. She stacks Pablo's winnings on the table and gets to her feet.

"I'm fine," Pablo repeats. "Stay as long as you like."

Heidi shakes her head. "Nah, I've got to get to work drawing up those commissions."

Amirah gets up and circles the coffee table to press a kiss into Pablo's hair. "We'll see you later, darling."

Pablo still doesn't react. Amirah waits for Heidi by the door, but Heidi's starting to get actually worried about Pablo. "Darlin'," she says, putting her hand over his. "You might take the day off, yeah? Don't bottle all this up."

"I said I'm fine," he whispers, but his eyes are red-rimmed and Heidi just hopes she hasn't pushed too hard. She kisses his forehead, too, and then she and Amirah slip out of the salon into the morning sunshine.

"Poor dear," Amirah says. "What do you think they fought about?"

"What's anyone fought about the last couple of days?" Heidi grimaces. "I don't blame Wei, though. We all shoulda done more."

Amirah hums. "I wish I'd known it had gotten so bad. As the elder sibling, it's my job to keep him in check. I tried to talk him down once or twice, but I think I made it worse."

"You can't keep holding yourself responsible for every bad decision that boy makes," Heidi says. "He's an adult. At least he's admitted to goin' overboard this time, instead of turnin' into a wailing imp about it."

"I know. I just—" Amirah sighs. "I let myself get so wrapped up in so many other things, I simply didn't pay attention." Her fingers brush Heidi's as they walk. "Which is to say, I see now that keeping someone a secret never ends well."

"Blossom," Heidi murmurs. They're not in the center of town square, only at the edge, but they might as well be on the steps to City Hall, for what Amirah's saying.

"I don't want to keep you a secret, Heidi, and I can't live my life in fear of other people's opinions. I love you." Then, in full view of the whole town, Amirah presses her lips to Heidi's, one hand on Heidi's waist and the other brushing her jaw.

Before Heidi can catch all the way up to Amirah, she hears rapid footsteps from the town square. "Amirah!" Arvio shouts. "Amirah, dearest!"

The Civil Corps let him go yesterday, after he admitted he'd taken it too far, and he'd disappeared into his shop for the rest of the day. Amirah wrenches herself away from Heidi. A quick glance tells Heidi that despite her penultimate statement, Amirah's terrified. "A-arvio. Ahem."

Arvio takes a moment to catch his breath, then kisses Heidi's cheek without so much as a beat of hesitation. "Hello, darling." He does the same to Amirah. "Hello, dearest sister." He looks between them, then pouts and gives Amirah a little huff. "You know, I wish you'd have just told me you were in love with Heidi. Well, no matter. No time for that now." He waves it all away with a dramatic flick of his wrist and takes both of Amirah's hands in his.

"Amirah, I have the most brilliant idea!"

Chapter Text

Logan walks down the dusty path, long strides devouring the ground before him as he ambles towards the rag-tag collection of grills scattered around the Blue Moon. Morning patrol had taken up most of his morning, causing him to miss most of the setup. Unfortunately, getting cleaned up after had taken a few more precious minutes out of his schedule, but despite just how strong the average Sandrocker’s nose was, no one wanted to be hanging around long with someone smelling like goat.

He brushes a hand over his now smooth jaw, still second guessing his choice of shaving. It wasn’t something he did terribly often, Pablo’s complaints aside. Would she notice? Did it look like he was trying too hard? The thoughts wriggle in the back of his mind as he walks, finally close enough to smell the assortment of charring meat.

It doesn’t take him more than a moment to spot her, already manning one of the grills with a line in front of her. He ignores them, placing a hand on her back as he slips behind to watch over her shoulder.

“Afternoon darlin’.”

Lucy’d spent the night in her workshop, an event occurring more and more rarely over the last few months. He missed her all the same. It just don’t seem right doing things without her now. Even supper with just Andy feels different, like they’re both waiting for the empty chair to be filled.

She catches his eye, smiling back. “Hey love, patrol go smooth?” Her hand turns the crank slowly, letting the meat cook evenly over the flame.

“Ain’t nothin’ round for miles. Cold’s keepin’ everythin’ shut up tight.” Most monsters don’t bother to move much during winter, but he hadn’t been able to relax until he was sure nothing was skulking around nearby. Not that he’s been able to relax this last week, what with everything on his mind, but it’d have been worse otherwise.

He leans down, dropping a kiss against her temple. She sighs, closing her eyes and pressing her shoulder into his side.

A cough interrupts them, and Logan looks up just in time to catch Hugo’s expression flip from fond to faux-annoyed. He raises a pointed eyebrow, glancing down to where Lucy’s hand has fallen idle at the grill.

She blushes under the scrutiny, pushing Logan away with a shoulder. “Go bother some other folks for a bit, or try cooking some yourself.” He chuckles, giving her shoulder a last squeeze before moseying off.

He knows better than to try manning any of the grills himself. While he’s been working on his cooking skills—mostly to give Lucy a rest in the kitchen—he ain’t what anyone would call good. And since no one else is willing to eat meat that’s practically charcoal, it’s better not to waste anything.

Regardless, he does his best to pop around to a couple of different stands, talking to the few folks he’s once more starting to call friends. More than once they offer him something burnt, or over-spiced, only to laugh when he eats it anyway. Andy watches wide-eyed, still somehow surprised at just what Logan’s able to choke down without complaint. Thankfully the kid’s stopped trying to keep up.

When they were kids, it had always been a bit of a game to see what Logan wouldn’t eat, but his father had taught him young not to waste food. It didn’t help that Howlett wasn’t much better of a cook than Logan was.

Some of the tourists stare a little too long when he takes some obviously over-grilled rooster, and Logan's stomach twinges with embarrassment. Better some gawking from strangers than the concern from the townsfolk he'll get if he starts turning food down.

Once he’s eaten his fill—not that it takes much, what with the state of his nerves—he turns back to bother Lucy. She shoots him a worried look, clearly catching just how much—or rather, how little—he’s eaten, but he can’t help it.

Unfortunately, before he can pester her, Trudy steps up, pulling Lucy into an urgent conversation about the fireworks display. Apparently it’s gone and broke, and as usual Lucy’s the one tapped to bang out a fix. She scowls something fierce at the news, but darts off towards her workshop, not even stopping long enough for him to steal a kiss.

Without her to bother, he falls back on the temporary sanctuary of the Blue Moon. The saloon’s quiet when Logan walks in. Owen’s done a bang up job prettying the place up for the solstice, but most of the town’s still out enjoying the barbecue.

He steps up to the bar. Normally he doesn’t need anything to steady his nerves, but tonight, it might be for the best. He ain’t about to let it become a new crutch, but something small could help with the overwhelming feeling of being here, and of his plans for the night.

“Well, you’ve cleaned up nice,” Grace teases from behind the counter. “What’ll it be then?”

She’d returned a couple months back, and already was fitting back into town like she’d never left. It didn’t seem quite fair, but he couldn’t begrudge her the peace and quiet she was looking for.

Logan doesn’t bother rolling his eyes. It would only encourage her. Truth be told, he had put in some effort, and had at least managed to ditch the chaps and arm guards after he’d finished up work this morning. It's a work in progress, but he’s glad to be at an event where he feels comfortable in his own clothes, his own skin. He knows folks have been worried seeing him go everywhere in full get-up—he ain’t blind—but it’s a hard habit to break. Like with everything else in his life these days, he's trying his best, and Lucy's helping.

“Nothin’ fancy. Whisky, neat.”

Grace's eyes drop briefly to the gun still holstered at his side, raising a brow. Logan sighs.

“Just the one. Ain’t orderin’ any more than that tonight.”

“Alright. I’ll hold you to that, yakboy.”

He places a handful of gols on the counter and takes the drink back to nurse against the wall. From her raised eyebrow, he can tell he's left more than she’d have charged. Even though he's square up with the town and the fines are all paid folks still won't charge him full price for things. It's getting on his last nerve.

As he savors the drink—the vintage a damn sight better than his usual rotgut—a handful more folk wander in. A fair few nod at him as they pass, though Wei’s eyes slide right off him. Logan shrugs to himself, not taking it as a slight. The man looks lost in thought.

He idly scans the room, watching as Grace whips up some shimmering cocktail for a beaming tourist. Owen and Jane laugh together, hands brushing as they help Hugo and Cooper set up on stage. The crowd’s not big enough yet, and likely won’t be all night, for it to be a concern to get to the doors. In a pinch, he can always go out through the kitchen. Light knows when they were young he, Owen and Justice had snuck in and out of this place all the time. The memories of his youth are less bittersweet now that he isn’t on the run—now that his family can’t get caught up in the crossfire.

“Builder must be late if Logan’s watchin’ the door like a dog,” someone comments from the bar. Logan doesn’t exactly know them—must be one of those new townies—but he shoots them an annoyed glare regardless. He’s heard that one a few times before, folks joking they always know where she is by watching his sightline. Ain’t like it’s a lie, but it’s still annoying to be called out on, like he's some kinda lovesick puppy.

Facts are, most everyone in the Saloon tonight is a local of some variety. A fair number are from the outlying villages, little hamlets like the one Haru was born in that get folded into the greater Sandrock area. Others are new folks he hasn’t had a chance to get acquainted with. They haven’t tried too hard to include him, though it ain’t like he’s made much of an effort to get to know anyone outside his old circles.

That they’re there at all—that folks are actually choosing to come to Sandrock and settle here—is still a marvel to him. Slowly, but surely, Sandrock is blooming again, becoming the flower of the desert his Pa had always talked about it being. The town’s growing again, and for once, he feels like he’s growing too. He’s not just trying to be his past self. Lucy’d never met that man; she just accepts and supports who he is, who he’s becoming. He don’t quite know who or what that is yet, but it makes him feel like he has a real future. Like he can actually fill his father's shoes—as both a father and a monster hunter—and maybe more. That might be what he loves the most about her, but it’s hard to be sure with so much competition.

The whiskey finally starts to kick in, blunting the sharp anxiety of the night. It’s not enough to remove it entirely, not by a long shot, but it's enough that he can feel himself unclench a little. Hopefully it’ll last long enough; Grace will hold him to his word on only having the one.

The door opens, and Heidi and Amirah walk arm in arm, looking as lovely as ever. He’s glad it’s working out for them. Lucy’d told him it was rough after Amirah’s folks came to town, but they’ve weathered that storm. Hopefully her parents will adjust from those outdated Barnrock mindsets and appreciate their one good child.

Almost as if summoned, the next person through the door is Arvio, chattering at an exasperated Pablo. Logan doesn’t let the look of disgust cross his face. No matter how much time passes, he still hates the kid for what he put Lucy through. Probably always will.

The barber manages to ditch the kid pretty quickly, and Logan watches from the corner of his eye as Arvio approaches the bar. Grace is serving someone at the other end, distracted, so Arvio strikes up a conversation with a woman Logan doesn’t recognize.

His eyes sweep back over the room, absentmindedly counting the people, the exits, and the knives without bothering to hold onto the meaningless minutiae. So far no one's armed at all, besides himself and Justice of course, and the number of folks he knows in the room still outnumbered the folks he don’t.

Despite the faint buzz from the whiskey, a jerk of unexpected movement snaps his head back to where Arvio’s sitting. The kid’s starting to get a little louder, and Logan’s sharp ears can already pick up the start of his tirade of compliments to the woman's beauty and talent. It’s the first time in months Logan’s heard anything that could start to toe the line he’s threatened to enforce in blood.

But before Logan can take so much as a step forwards, Justice and Trudy descend like a pair of dive buzzards. The sheriff glances up, catching his eye, and Logan relaxes back against the wall, nodding in satisfaction. Unfortunately, judging by how agitated and annoyed the kid’s acting, he ain’t gonna learn a damn thing, but Logan at least doesn’t feel like he’s got to step in and ruin his own evening. He tunes out Justice’s sharp words, letting the kid get dressed down in peace. While the sheriff’s doing his best to cut him down to size, Logan doesn't have much hope that this lesson will do much. He sighs, much as he doesn’t want to, he should really tell Lucy about this later, just so that she’s forearmed.

Trudy pulls the young woman away, and before long their heads are bowed together, discussing something with smiles and sweeping arm movements. Whatever’s going on there, Logan figures the mayor has it covered, and moves his gaze onwards, fingers tapping anxiously against the empty glass in his hand.

His eyes catch Pablo’s hands moving animatedly, talking to a group a handful of yards from where he’s waiting. The barber’s cutting remarks slice through the din of the party.

“Argyle is so last year. Who would wear something so dated to a celebration like this?” Heidi and Amirah look pained, but they don’t speak up as Pablo continues his catty rant. “I wouldn’t be caught dead in that, but then again, I’m not a fussy little busy body.”

Logan sees Wei turning to the source of the noise, a pained expression on his face. It doesn’t take much to puzzle out exactly who Pablo’s needling, even less when he spies the man glancing over at Wei’s hurt expression.

“This really the time for that, Pablo?” Logan speaks up, interrupting the next hurtful remark. “The holiday’s for new beginnings, not bad blood. Cut it out.” Pablo’s eyes narrow in annoyance, but he flounces off to the far side of the saloon, not bothering to challenge Logan’s assertions.

Wei shoots him a surprised look, seemingly unable to believe that he’d stick his neck out for him. Logan doesn't know why not. Despite the man’s standoffish behavior to himself, Wei’s done right by the town, and almost more importantly, he’s always been good to Lucy. He tips his hat, seemingly puzzling Wei even further, before continuing to watch the party.

The band has almost finished setting up on stage. To his surprise, Trudy’s standing up there, talking quietly with the same young woman as before, as well as Cooper and Hugo. The girl’s got a guitar of some sort in her hands, and a bright smile on her face. Logan’s lip twitches, might be some hope yet for new songs tonight. Fitting, all things considered.

He continues to watch the room idly, as the band tunes up. Liquor is flowing more freely as time ticks on, leaving Grace barely enough time to come around collecting glasses. Logan’s left arms crossed, tapping his fingers against his elbow instead, doing his best to burn off the mounting nervous energy.

The first few bars of a lively melody start to fill the saloon. Some folks are already dancing, whirling in circles and grinning, but Logan isn’t yet caught up in the festivities. She ain’t here yet, and he can’t help the worry that’s started to tangle up inside his chest, the pressure only growing with each passing minute.

Surely she’s just late, or something else urgent has come up that can’t be helped. The fireworks can’t take this long to fix, can they? Or maybe she’s in trouble. The workshop’s all the way across the tracks and even though he’d done his patrol, even though he’d checked thoroughly, he could have missed something. Just cause monsters don’t move much in winter don’t mean they don’t move at all. He shoves his thumbs through his belt loops, drumming his fingers sharply against his leg. Is it worth ducking out to check on her, or is that a step too far? It’s only been a couple hours since they saw each other, and yet—

The saloon door swings open, breaking his spiraling thoughts. Lucy finally steps into the saloon, and his breath catches in his throat. Just laying eyes on her snaps the world into focus, as if it wasn’t complete without her there.

As soon as she catches sight of him she smiles, beelining towards him and cutting across the crowded floor. She moves to lean against the wall beside him, but he’s not having any of that, not tonight. He pulls her flush against him, resting his chin on her head and wrapping his arms around her waist. As usual, she puts up with him with a laugh, already adjusting to lean against his tall frame instead of the wall. For a brief second he closes his eyes, the pressure in his chest easing as he buries his nose in her soft hair, breathing deep. He’ll never get tired of the soft and hopeful feeling holding her always brings.

Despite the noise of the music, he can make out where most folks around them are. A sharp click catches his attention, pulling him from his brief reprieve, and his eyes snap back open, whipping across the scene before him. Mabel smiles at him, continuing to walk towards the bar, shoes tapping against the wood. He sighs, eyes already moving back to count the exits—not that they’ve changed.

Her hands squeeze his, drawing him back from the endless watching. He jerks his attention away from the crowd as best he can, focusing on how she feels against him and taking a deep breath.

“Missed you,” he whispers into her ear. She leans against him, tilting her head back to look him in the eye. He wishes there were some unoccupied booths around, somewhere they could sit together so she doesn’t have to crane her neck. Maybe he could—

“Missed you too,” she says, interrupting his thoughts with a smile. “Sorry the fix took forever.” She closes her eyes, pulling his arms even tighter around her as she vents about everything that had gone wrong. “One of those out of town idiots managed to fuck up the timing device. If I hadn’t done something the whole show would have gone off at once. I had to tear the damn thing half apart, and when I did I found the whole thing was just a mess of daisy chains, split wires and cracked solder joints. Almost would have been faster to—”

She stops mid sentence, realizing that she’s talking his ear off. “Oh Light, I’m sorry Logan I didn’t mean to—”

He presses a kiss to the crown of her head. “S’alright darlin’. Don’t gotta understand it to listen. Reckon you can’t dumb it down enough for me anyway.”

She shoots him an annoyed glare. This ain’t the first time they’ve had this talk. “You’re not as stupid as you say you are, love.”

He chuckles. “So you’re agreeing I’m still dumb?”

She groans in exasperation, tugging gently at the collar of his cape until he bends far enough for her to kiss him briefly. The conversation lulls a little, as they listen to the new music, and Logan sways them gently to the slow melody.

The saloon door cracks open, admitting a short and dusty figure. Lucy groans softly, recognizing their son underneath all the filth. “It’s been like ten minutes. How—What did he do?”

Logan just laughs, shaking his head. He’s pretty sure he’d done that more than once to his Pa. The thought doesn’t hurt like it would have once, the pain blunted by time. He concentrates on the happy memories—the frustrated smile his Pa would wear even on days it seemed Logan brought in half the Eufaula with him. They’re faded, and he worries that if he didn’t have some of the pictures he’d have already managed to forget the exact details of the man's face. The grief is still there, a darkness lurking beneath the surface that threatens to swallow him some days, but every day he spends with his family helps keep it buried.

Andy catches sight of them quickly, bounding over and immediately starting in on telling them all about the baby yakmel Elsie showed him. Logan knows Elsie had been worried about one of the mothers on the ranch, cutting her watches short sometimes to double back and check on it. He’s relieved, everything must have gone smoothly for her to be showing the calves off to the kids.

Lucy steps in when he takes a breath, pausing the stream of babble. “Andy, you gotta go wash up. You can’t have any dessert until those hands are clean at the very least.” Her nose wrinkles slightly, and Andy pouts.

Logan chuckles, but quickly catches Andy’s eye. “Come on kid, you know better. You need me to show ya how?”

Andy rolls his eyes at the babying. “Like you know how to use soap,” he sasses. Before Logan can react to the insult he darts off towards the washroom.

He rolls his eyes. “I swear he gets that from you.” Lucy shakes with silent laughter, squeezing one of his hands in hers.

After a few minutes of silence her mood shifts, and she sighs. “I’m worried about him,” she says quietly.

Logan raises an eyebrow, concern bubbling in his chest. “He misbehavin’ more than usual?” A quick glance confirms the kid is already out, mostly cleaned up even, and already hanging out with Jasmine and Pebbles over by the snacks. Luckily Trudy is close enough to step in before he can swipe too many sweets.

She sighs. “No, he’s fine—well alright, he had a bit too much spice trying to keep up with you earlier, but nothing like that.” A frown crosses her face. “It’s the Oasis. He won’t go near the place, even when Jasmine goes down to sit on the shore.”

Logan can’t say he blames the kid. That day still lives rent free in his nightmares, and likely always will. She squeezes his hands and he realizes he’s shaking slightly.

“I think… it might be good for him to learn to swim. Properly.” She paused, looking up to catch his eye. “I’ll teach you too, if you want.”

She’s right. It’s not healthy for the kid to be afraid of the water like that. The oasis is safer now, partially replumbed with proper grates and safety measures. He needs to step up, deal with his own issues around it and help the kid with his.

She sweetens the deal before he can answer. “Maybe you can even get me to wear a bikini…” His face burns at the thought, the image already forming behind his eyes.

“Light’s sake, Lucy. I was already goin’ to agree,” he says, hiding his face in her hair, trying to banish an enticing image of water droplets on her bare flesh.

She laughs, but before she can reply the music’s gone and changed again. This time it is back to something he can recognize, and better yet, dance to. He noses gently at her ear.

“Care to dance, love?”

Her beaming smile is all the answer he needs. He grabs her hand, pulling her away from the wall and towards the stage. As soon as they step out on the floor he pulls her into position. One of his hands grabs hers and the other presses into the small of her back, pulling her shoulder up against his side. She’s not the best dancer here, preferring steps she knows instead of improvising anything in the heat of the moment, but there is no one else in the world he’d rather be with.

They move together in time, stepping lightly as he spins her around him. There’s no skirt to fan out when she’s just in her work clothes, but the smile on her face is what matters. He moves them across the floor, deftly finding space whenever he rolls her out, or just moving to avoid unfamiliar faces. She picks up on even the faintest pressure from his hands, as in tune with him as he is with her.

Owen passes them by, smile bright as he steps together with Jane. He makes a joking motion as if to switch partners, which Logan ignores with long practice. Lucy’s eyes crinkle in humor as they catch his, and he squeezes her hand possessively. He won’t stop her from dancing with anyone she pleases, but he’s never once let anyone cut in.

The grin on her face is infectious, melting away all the doubt he’d been carrying with him. He should see if Owen would open up Saturday dances again, like the saloon had when they were kids. Before so much of the town blew away with the sandstorms, it was one of the major activities.

They stick around through the next song, and the next. Logan can’t help but get progressively fancier, dipping and twisting her—delighting in every grin and laugh. People are watching—staring even—and he hears his name from more than one stranger on the sidelines. He doesn’t much care. Being the center of attention isn’t what matters. Making her happy is.

The music reaches a crescendo, and he spins her out, waiting a beat before aggressively pulling her in and lifting her. She squeaks in surprise, holding onto him tight as he hooks under one knee, pulling her parallel to the floor for a second. Her eyes sparkle with mirth as he pulls her back in tight against him, whirling them around and dodging away from where Arvio just stepped partnerless onto the floor.

As the music for the last set winds down he feels her panting hard against his chest. He presses a kiss to the top of her head. “Need a minute?” She squeezes his hand in affirmation, still trying to get her breathing under control, and he leads her off the floor towards the bar.

He pours them both some water out of the jug Owen’s got set up. There’s punch as well of course, but he’d already seen Elsie spike it. Thin lemon slices float aimlessly inside, lending a slight pop of flavor as he greedily down half his glass in one gulp. Lucy doesn’t seem anywhere near recovered yet, so he walks them both over to the wall where he’d been waiting for her, grabbing her with one arm and anchoring her against his side. She huffs a laugh, leaning into him and closing her eyes.

They’ve been together for months, and yet he still can’t stop touching her—in both public and private. He’s constantly reassuring himself that she’s there, that this is real and not some desperate fever dream. Light knows he’s had more than enough of those.

He hadn’t dared to think he would ever be this happy again, not after he’d gone and killed his Pa. Even after learning the truth he still doesn't, but waking up next to her has a tendency to distract him enough that those thoughts just fall away. Even when he’s out on the trail he finds his thoughts drifting, straying to replay one of the many happy memories from these last few months.

Once he felt trapped in town, like he was trying to fit into a skin two sizes too small, and he’d long to return out to the desert, to patrolling the sands and keeping Sandrock safe. It was simple, and sometimes it was all he felt he was good for. Now he can’t help but run home, back to their family whenever he can. The simplicity he’d craved could be found just holding her in his arms, or ruffling Andy’s hair. She never expected him to be the person he’d left behind in an explosion of stone and flame—hell, she’d never known that man at all. Somehow, despite everything, she’d managed to go and fall in love with him anyway, even after all the bad he’d done.

For whatever reason, she’s resolute at tying herself down, tying herself to him. His pocket is heavy, laden down with promise and doubt. These last few days, he’s wondered if he’s making the right choice, or if he’s just being selfish.

”Not like you to be lost in thought, yakboy,” Lucy says with a smile, interrupting his musings. She gently taps his temple. “What kinda monsters you chasing in there?” Logan blinks, looking down at his glass and finding it empty. Catching her smug expression, he figures he knows where the rest of his water went.

He pulls her closer, leaning down to whisper in her ear, dropping his voice. “Not monsters, not really. ‘Sides which, I ain’t the only one. You’ve been distracted lately too. Doin' alright?” His lip twitches as she shivers and leans further back against him. She’s never said anything about it, but he’s not that stupid. It hadn’t taken him long to figure out what she liked once he’d put his mind to it, though admittedly he’d clearly needed it spelled out the first time that what she liked was him.

Grace makes her rounds, serving-platter rapidly filling with empty glasses. When she approaches they both hand their glasses over readily. The waitress raises a subtle eyebrow at Logan, eyes dipping pointedly to where he’s still got an arm wrapped rather possessively around Lucy. Logan knows he’s being worse than usual, but he just rolls his eyes, glancing over towards where Arvio keeps flitting like an overactive dragonfly. He hasn’t missed the lingering glances the kid sometimes still shoots her way, even after everything has died down.

Lucy laughs, distracting Logan from any further nonverbal commentary. She folds one of her hands over his forearm, squeezing it briefly. “Don’t change the subject. I asked first.” Her tone is light, but there’s something he can’t quite identify lurking beneath it. Is it nervousness, or is he just projecting what he’s feeling?

He puts it out of his mind for now. No use chasing shadows. "I jus’ wanted to chat with you ‘bout somethin' I been thinkin'."

She hums questioningly, tilting her head back and to the side to look at him a little better. "Something you've been thinking about? For how long?”

"A while. Ain't a cause for worry. I just... I wanted to ask you somethin', and I been tryin' to figure out how best to do it." Logan was a bit sheepish. To be honest, he’s been trying to work up the courage for almost a week. Andy was starting to get annoyed with him over it, saying he should have some kind of speech or something, but that's never been Logan’s style. He prefers to just shoot from the hip.

Lucy kisses him on the cheek and gives him a pointed look “With your words?"

She’s right, as always. He takes a deep breath. It’s time to stop pussyfooting around, and just speak from the heart. The solstice is a time for new beginnings, and this is a new beginning if there ever was one.

Lucy feels more than hears Logan take a deep breath behind her, his chest swelling as he grounds himself. One arm pulls her a little closer and his nose brushes her ear. His other hand trembles as it pulls away from where it was pressed against her side. Her curiosity piques as he pulls something from his pocket.

“Darlin’, I love you. I love every minute of bein’ with you,” he whispers, accent rough as his breath gusts against her ear.

She finally catches sight of the shape in his hand as his fingers unfurl. There, sitting inside his cupped palm, is a ring. It’s a polished matte white, and while it doesn’t catch the light or glint like other jewelry, it snares her heart immediately. Intricate carvings run along its sides. He must have spent weeks painstakingly crafting this while she wasn’t watching.

Even without seeing it up close, she already knows it’ll match the motif on the cameo she still wears every day around her neck. He’s made her a handful of other pieces, but none yet that had matched that particular pattern. Perhaps because he was already planning this, and wanted to keep those images special.

“You’re the first thing I think of when I wake up, and the last ‘fore I fall asleep.”

Oh, is he—is he really… Her heart skips a beat as she realizes what he's doing—what's happening. One of her hands falls to his, threading their fingers together and holding it tight against her side. Happy tears well up in the corner of her eyes as she leans back against him, tilting her head so as to hear him better.

“I can’t imagine—”

She can’t stop herself, interrupting him with a soft kiss pressed against his chapped lips. When she pulls away they’re both smiling, and he looks at her fondly as she struggles for words.

“Yes—” That’s all she’s able to get out, too overwhelmed with emotion for any other words to get past the lump in her throat. He squeezes her tightly, a quiet laugh of relief rumbling against her.

“Couldn’t even let me finish, could ya,” he jokes, pale blue eyes sparkling. The squeeze intensifies for a second, and her ribs creak with pressure.

She laughs silently, giddy with joy. “Not like you were doing it properly anyway, yakboy.”

“Oh, is that what ya want?”

She should have known better than to say anything. He denies it, but he’s got a dramatic streak a mile wide. To his chagrin, whenever he tries to protest this point all Lucy has to do is bring up that ridiculous bandit throne. No matter how he tries to blame Andy, she doesn’t plan on ever letting him live that particular decorating choice down.

Shooting her a wide grin, he releases his grip, dropping to one knee in front of her. He looks up at her adoringly. Her face flushes as she watches the rest of the saloon turn and fall silent. Logan can’t see them, his back to the crowd and his eyes only for her. He pulls his hat off, placing it over his heart as he holds up the ring.

“Darlin’, will you make me the happiest man alive?”

It feels like more than half the town is packed into the Blue Moon, and Lucy can feel the heat rising in her cheeks as they all stare expectantly. They don’t really matter though. The only person who does is on one knee before her, smiling brighter than the noon day sun. Happy tears obscure her vision even as she frantically scrubs them away with the back of her hand, the other outstretched towards the waiting monster hunter.

When he takes her hand is his, sliding the ring onto her finger she can’t control the joy bursting inside her. The smile across her face feels like it’s going to split her face in two. Not that she’s the only one. Logan’s sporting a similar grin, one filled with happiness and relief in equal measures.

The rest of the world fades away as they look at each other. He presses a gentle kiss to her knuckles, the very picture of the gentleman he always claims he isn’t. For once, she’s the one who leans down to kiss him instead of the other way around. She can taste the faintest hint of whiskey on his tongue.

They must indulge a little too long, because a wolf whistle shatters the moment. The rest of the world snaps back into focus as the crowd claps and cheers—a little more than the situation warrants, to be honest. She’d all but forgotten they were there, and when she pulls back from the kiss, it looks like he had as well. His cheeks are as pink as a morning sunrise, the flush shading even the tips of his ears, but he still stands back up to embrace her. He shoots a glare off at the laughing busybodies, but his fond gaze returns to her quickly.

Once his arms are securely back around her, his back to the wall and hers to him, she examines the ring. It’s even more intricately carved than she’d first imagined. She’s used to him working on pieces at home. They’ve frequently spent the evening curled up quietly together on the couch, spending time together without the need for words. She’ll tinker, or read, while he does his own weapon maintenance or carves, but she’d never seen this in his hand. He must have been working on it out of sight, maybe whenever he was at the outpost, so that it would be a surprise.

Logan presses a kiss to the top of her head, interrupting her wandering musings. “Figure yer gonna have ta take it off when workin’, but it didn’t seem right t’ask without one,” he whispers to her, accent thick with relief.

“I know, and I will. But I’m not working now, am I?” She smiles up at him, catching his gaze with her own and stealing a quick kiss. To be honest, she’s surprised he remembered. She’d made an offhand comment about rings and other potentially dangerous jewelry more than a month ago. Anytime she works with her machines she’ll need to take it off, unless she wants to chance losing a finger. Whenever it isn’t dangerous though, she knows she’ll wear it with pride, just like she does the cameo.

Unfortunately, it seems the town isn’t content to let them continue to have their moment together. There’s still time in the evening, but Lucy can guess they won’t be able to go out and continue dancing before the band packs up. It seems like the whole saloon is coming by to congratulate them, wasting no time with their well wishing.

Justice and Owen walk over together, each beaming.

“Can’t believe you went and beat us on this too, Logan. First it was having a kid, now it’s getting married.” Owen says, chuckling.

“Slow down, you’re making us feel old,” Justice adds, looking like he wants to slap Logan on the shoulder in good humor. Logan tenses slightly, and Justice hesitates, pulling his hand back in an aborted gesture. It’s been slow going, but at least some people acknowledge the experiences Logan’s been through, and treat him appropriately.

“Ain’t hard to beat a dead horse in a race,” Logan shoots back, a smile teasing the corners of his lips. It’s hardly Logan’s fault Owen's relationship with Jane isn’t progressing at the same breakneck pace theirs is.

Owen mimes holding a hand to his chest as if shot, and Lucy can’t help but laugh at the dramatics. It’s a far cry from the stories she’s been told about their friendship growing up, but it’s amazing compared to the fumbles and missteps after the trial. The renewing relationship is still fragile, but she couldn’t be happier with how they all tried to rekindle it.

Unfortunately, just as the two men take their leave, Cooper strides over. The rancher immediately launches into a rambling rant that would make even the most dedicated listener’s eyes glaze over. “Long past time you made an honest woman outta her, boy! I can’t believe the two of you carried on for so long without someone sayin’ somethin’ ‘bout it, but let me tell you—”

Logan cringes a little, but Lucy attempts to interrupt, “Cooper, you can’t really expect a bandit to do an honest anything.” She feels more than hears Logan groan behind her at the joke, but Cooper takes no notice.

“If yer Pa could have seen how the two of you’d been actin’, I’m sure he’da said somethin’. Now he was an honest fellow. Back in—”

Logan whispers in her ear, “If you wanna run, I’ll distract him.” While she appreciates his attempt to shield her from this, she knows there’s an easier solution. She catches Mabel’s eye, and the ranch matriarch grabs Cooper's arm, leading him away mid-sentence. Both she and Logan let out a sigh of relief, before pasting on a smile as the next Sandrocker walks up with their congratulations.

It takes hours for the flood of well wishers to trickle to nothing. The last one to approach and bother them, for now at least, is Burgess. The minister walks over, practically bursting at the seams with excitement. Logan tenses behind her before forcing himself to relax. Luckily the other man doesn’t notice.

“Howdy! When do you two think you’re going to book the temple! It’s never too early to start making plans!”

Logan’s fingertips dig into her waist, the steady heartbeat at her back increasing rapidly. Lucy jumps in before Logan can say anything.

“Sorry, Burgess, but I don’t think we’ll be using the Church at all.”

The man looks like a kicked puppy, eyes wide and hurt. “But—” he starts out, only to be cut off again.

“I’ve just never been particularly religious.” She shoots him a half smile, shrugging her shoulders. “Makes more sense to me to have the ceremony elsewhere, if we have one at all.”

Burgess rallies and seems to take the rejection in stride. He does have a fair amount of experience with them. “Well, if you change your mind, the Light embraces everyone.” He leaves the two of them alone, heading towards the almost empty refreshment table. Lucy feels momentarily guilty. It’s not like he’s done anything to warrant her ire, but right now his happiness isn’t as important as Logan's.

Behind her, Logan sighs, palpably emanating relief. “Thanks,” he whispers roughly in her ear, leaning in close. “I didn’t even think ‘bout that part. Are ya sure? I’d… figure out how to deal.”

She scoffs fondly. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed how you always take the back way up to the school. I know you. I’d never make you do that.”

No matter what he says, forcing that on him would be a surefire way to lose him. There’s no way she would ever make him return to where his father died in his arms. Even with all her skill, she can barely make out where the fresh paint covers over old scars on the stone facade. Whoever had taken on the reconstruction contract had done a phenomenal job. But she’s also sure that Logan, the reason why it needed to be rebuilt, would always be able to see the damage.

He stays silent, fingers fidgeting against her waist, so she presses onwards. “Whatever we do, it’s for both of us. For our family. Anything that makes you uncomfortable is automatically out.”

He exhales raggedly, the drum of his heartbeat falling back to its normal, calm rhythm. “I don’t deserve you darlin’, I really don’t.”

She turns, pressing a kiss against his cheek. “Of course you do—”

Before she can reassure him further, her ears catch the latest nonsense spewing out of Arvio’s mouth.

There aren’t many tourists in the Blue Moon tonight. This isn’t a particularly popular travel holiday, but that doesn't stop everyone. It was as good an excuse as any to see Sandrock before the blazing heat of any other season sets in.

Almost all of them are gathered around Arvio, eating up his lies like normal. She can’t be too mad, it’s not like they know any better, but it’s still aggravating.

The man won’t stop crowing about how great a match maker he is, and how the new happy couple is only together thanks to his magnanimousness. How if he hadn’t poured so much work into setting them up, surely they’d still be strangers.

It’s a crock of shit is what it is. Arvio’s days in lockup had shaken some sense into him, but like anything else it doesn’t seem to have made as large an impression as it should have. Maybe the town’s still soft-pedaling what he’s done. Someday he’ll need to face more serious consequences.

As it is, neither Mi-an nor she will touch the man’s commissions. The few that get completed are either because a builder from out of town bothers, or Wei takes pity on the man. Though Wei does charge him double for the trouble. He’s still related to Yan, after all.

The shopkeep continues spewing nonsense to his handful of eager listeners. “Really, they should be thanking me! After all I did for them. I’m sure I’ll be the best man!”

Lucy bites down on the inside of her cheek, trying to ground herself. She refuses to let the man ruin her evening, not after it has been so lovely. Logan’s furious, staring daggers at Arvio. If looks could kill, he'd already be dead and buried.

Lucy grabs Logan’s hand before he could step out from the wall. “I don’t care how satisfying it would be, I don’t want you spending the night in lockup.”

Logan grumbles, but obliges, returning to the embrace. Lucy turns, pressing a quick kiss against his jaw to reward his good behavior. “Besides, it’s not like he’s technically wrong. He did a bunch of things that got us together. Just… not quite the way he’s framing it.”

Logan huffs, “Don’t mean I gotta like him takin’ credit. He’s makin’ it seem like I'd have had to get shot to say something to you.”

Lucy laughs. “Well, maybe he’s right. Neither of us were particularly good at figuring it out, even with everything he was doing.” Logan’s mouth twists into a pensive frown, but before he can say anything she continues, “It doesn’t matter how we got here. All that matters is that we’re here now. That we’re together.”

Logan sighs, melting slightly against the wall and looking at her lovingly. “Alright, I can agree with that.”

Thankfully they don't have to listen to too much more yakshit before Andy’s done playing with the other kids. Lucy nods at Trudy as the mayor escorts her daughter out. As always, Andy’s still filled with more energy than should fit inside his body.

“Wait, so's this what ‘tying the knot’ means?” the boy asks, bouncing in enthusiasm.

Logan flushes, looking away as Lucy just laughs, ruffling Andy’s hair. “Not exactly, but it’s related. Nothing’s going to change for us, it’s just more official now.”

Andy’s face falls, “Why didn’t you answer me then, if you knew what it meant?”

“Well Andy, sometimes when adults aren’t talking to each other right, they get embarrassed about dumb things.”

Andy rolls his eyes. “That’s dumb. Y’all shoulda just talked.”

“Yeah well—” Logan begins, but Lucy cuts him off, grabbing his hand and starting to lead the family out of the saloon.

“Eventually, we did.” She squeezes Logan’s hand briefly before releasing it, unable to keep the smile off her face. “And maybe next time we need to, it won’t take as long.”

Andy steps forwards, pushing open the door and holding it for them, and together they step out into the night’s chill air. Lucy catches the door before it could slam back and hit Heidi in the face, sending her an apologetic smile as Andy lets go of it without looking.

“Oops! Sorry, Miss Heidi!” Andy says, realizing what he’s just done.

“No harm done, Andy.” Heidi’s voice is shot through with amusement, her eyes sparkling as she glances again at the ring still proudly worn on Lucy’s finger. Lucy knows that the rest of town will know what happened before too long. She shoots Heidi a smile as the architect walks off, arm around a tipsy Amirah.

“I wanna see the fireworks! Jasmine said this show was going to be extra special!” Andy runs around them in a circle as they walk further out into the street, finger guns flashing briefly.

“Where to darlin’?” Logan takes her arm as if he’s escorting her somewhere.

She smiles at both of them, “Let’s just go home.” She reaches out quickly and tousles Andy’s hair before he can complain. “We can watch from the roof.”

Logan tries to hide a smile when she turns towards his house rather than hers. When Andy runs ahead he turns to her, eyes bright. “Home, huh?”

She blushes. “I—There’s a reason I’m always over at your place, you know. It’s not just because you’re there.”

His gaze softens. “I told ya, yer always welcome. Besides, I miss you when y’ain’t there.”

“I didn’t want to be a bother. You could always have asked me to stick around more if you missed me.”

He grins broadly. “Ain’t that what I just did?” They stop for a brief second, and he presses a kiss to the top of her head, eyes fond. “‘Sides which, didn’t I tell ya I never wanted you to leave?”

She hadn’t been sure how serious he was about that, not at first. But every day he seemed thrilled to wake up with her, or for her to be there when he got back from patrol firmed it up more in her mind until it was unshakable. He’d never bothered hiding any emotion from her after that day. She watched as the love between them only grew in strength. More than that, the family bonds between them grew, until she knew she’d never willingly give up either him or Andy again.

He suddenly smirks as his eyes catch hers, and he nods at the wall next to where they’ve stopped to talk. “While we’re walkin’ down memory lane…” He puts a hand on her shoulder, gently pushing her up against the saloon, just like he had all those months ago.

She laughs, letting him pin her. “I’m glad I’m not the only one with fond memories here.” His gaze grows heated, and he pushes up against her, capturing her lips in a searing kiss.

Unfortunately, Andy interrupts the moment, calling back to them from up ahead, “Pa! We’re gonna miss the show!” Logan breaks away with a soft swear, gaze still heated as he considers the consequences of disappointing the kid versus continuing their activities.

Lucy grabs his shirt to pull him down for one more quick kiss. “You know the walls in the house work better. Less interruptions, or chance that someone’s going to walk by, for one.” There’s still a spark of mischief in Logan’s eyes, but he lets her drag him home with a smile.

By the time they’ve gathered up some blankets and made their way to the roof, it’s gotten even colder. Andy darts around, laughing as he breathes out clouds like a dragon. It’s sure to be one of those rare nights of frost. The first of the firecrackers start to launch, great fiery flowers burning across the sky. They settle into the blanket nest to watch the show, and Lucy immediately cuddles up next to Logan, for his heat if nothing else. He chuckles, pulling her into his lap and wrapping himself securely around her, radiating warmth. Andy sits beside them, looking up at the sky with rapturous attention.

The fireworks burst and flare, colors washing out the surroundings with their bright flashes. They stand out dramatically against the dark and moonless night, competing only with the stars strewn above.

“It’s beautiful.” She sighs, leaning back against him as she watches the bright colors bloom across the sky. There’s something wonderful about fireworks. They’re ephemeral, and yet no less beautiful for their brief existence.

Logan hums in agreement. “Gorgeous even,” he whispers, amusement coloring his tone as he noses at her ear.

Lucy hesitates. They’ve gotten better, but she’s learned that clarifying is important. “Are you still talking about the fireworks?”

Logan chuckles, squeezing her tightly. “Not even a little.” She turns, catching his fond gaze. The show is nothing more than paltry sparks compared to the happiness that lights up his eyes.

She can’t help but smile back, pulling him into a quick kiss. It lasts longer than she’d thought, no commentary interrupting them. When they both glance over they see Andy’s already gone and fallen asleep. Logan turns, tucking him securely in to ward off the chill. While he’s distracted she pulls something of her own from her pocket and kisses him on the cheek.

His eyes widen when he sees just what she’s holding in her hand, but he lets her speak.

“You went and beat me to the punch earlier,” she says, unable to stop the grin spreading further across her face. “But I figured I’d still ask.”

She held up the ring she’d forged with her own two hands. It’d taken her a couple of late nights over the last month, ones she’d sadly not spent beside him. Those nights she’d slept at the workshop, in her old home, the one that still didn’t feel quite safe. It’d been worth it to keep it a surprise.

It’s from the same metal she’d used to make the dagger she’d given him last week. His mainstay weapon had chipped after a particularly rough encounter with something that crawled out of the deep desert. Originally, she'd been going to give it to him now, part and parcel with the ring, but life clearly had other plans. Logan’s already noticed the similarity, hand falling to the hilt at his side.

“I love you. Things are always brighter when we’re together, and darker when we're apart. Will you be my shield, now and always?”

“Yes. Always.” Logan laughs breathlessly, squeezing her tight. “Always. Your shield, your blade, anything you need, darlin’.” He holds out his hand with a grin, letting her slip the ring on just as he’d done to her not hours earlier. As soon as it's settled, he pulls her into a deep kiss.

They stay like this, just wrapped up in each other and deliriously happy for a while. The pyrotechnics keep going, illuminating the world in bright splashes of vibrant color, but she only sees how the light plays out over Logan’s silver hair or reflects off his pale eyes. When the show stops, she considers moving from his arms.

“So, I take it you wanna live here?” he asks quietly, forehead pressed against hers, hair falling around them. She’d knocked his hat off hours ago when she'd tangled her fingers in his silken strands. His breath gusted warm over her lips. “I thought you’d wanna be closer to your machines.”

She shakes her head. “You and Andy are more important than being next to the workshop any day.” Before he can say some nonsense about them moving instead, she continues, “We’ve made it work the last few months. And… your house has been home for longer than that. To me, at least.”

His grin out shines the stars, and he pulls her into another long, toe-curling kiss. The blanket wrapped around them falls slightly, and she breaks away with a shiver. He only laughs at her exaggerated chill, bundling her up again and pressing a quick kiss to her nose before picking up their still sleeping son.

After they’ve tucked Andy in and they’re cuddled up in bed, she adds one last thought. “We might need to remodel a little though.” He hums questioning, already falling asleep and not quite catching her meaning. “In the future… if we ever want a bigger family.”

His eyes fly open, breath hitching as he connects the dots. “How far in the future you thinkin’?” he asks breathlessly, arms tightening around her and drawing her even closer.

She grins, already feeling him shift to pin her against the mattress. Their eyes meet as she whispers a promise, “Whenever you want.”