Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Chapter I | Into the Fire
Come on, come on, put your hands into the fire.

It all started with that damn smile.

And fists finding their target. But let’s not get ahead of ourselves.

This year, the Pittsburgh Dolls were going to be unstoppable. Off-season acquisitions had bolstered their ranks, and the old roster had made significant progress. Their first match of the season ended in a five-goal blowout, and they were poised to dominate the league. The moment they stepped off the bus, they knew it would be another walk in the park. Nothing could hold them back, especially not the Night City Tyger Claws. The so-called stadium was a crumbling wreck, a testament to the local gang’s unwillingness to invest a single eddie into renovations. It barely deserved the name, more a patch of worn-out turf and rusted bleachers than a proper arena.

Fifteen minutes into the game, Dolls were already two goals ahead.

The Claws, or as most fans mockingly called them "The Nails", were the league’s laughingstock, consistently finishing at the bottom of the standings for the past three years. Even with Meredith Stout on their roster, they weren’t a threat. The veteran defender was past her prime, coaxed out of semi-retirement by a ridiculous sum of eddies - more money than any player had ever been offered in the league’s history. It was a desperate move by a desperate team in a city that reeked of decay and corruption.

Back in the old days, Stout was a living nightmare on the field, a player whose name was whispered with a mix of awe and dread. She clinched four championships with Chicago before moving on to Miami, where she added another title to her collection. Stout’s ruthlessness was legendary - she didn’t just play to win, she played to dominate, to crush any semblance of resistance. In one infamous final, she shattered the nose of a former teammate, a brutal reminder that loyalty had no place in her game. Around the league, tales of her tyranny were rampant. She was said to have no friends on any team, treating rookies with cold indifference, if not outright disdain. They were mere tools to her, joytoys at best. It was rumored that she coached the coaching staff, dictating tactics and strategies, asserting her dominance not just on the pitch, but off it as well. Even if only half of these stories were true, they painted a picture of a merciless tyrant who bent everyone to her will.

Stout announced that this season would be her swan song. She accepted a massive payout under the guise of settling in Night City, the so-called city of dreams, to help rebuild the floundering Tyger Claws. With a new manager and a few fresh faces on the squad, there was a flicker of hope that maybe, just maybe, they wouldn't finish last. But everyone knew it was a charade, a PR stunt orchestrated to sell tickets and boost ratings. Meanwhile, Stout capitalized on her return, securing new sponsorships, giving provocative interviews, and plastering her face on billboards all over the city.

The bubble of inflated hopes burst spectacularly after their first match of the season. They suffered a humiliating defeat on the East Coast, and to add injury to insult, their best striker - Rachel Casich - was sidelined during training. Some rumors said that Stout broke her leg in retaliation for the loss with New York’s team, but no one really believed it.

It was clear - despite the fanfare and the grand promises, nothing had really changed for the Tyger Claws. Their season was off to a dismal start, and the shadows of past failures loomed large. And now, as the match progressed, it was clear the Dolls were in a different league altogether. Their passes were crisp, their defense impenetrable, and their attacks relentless. The Claws were little more than helpless spectators to their own demise.

At the heart of the Dolls’ symphony of destruction was their captain, Judy Álvarez. Her signature pink and green hair, vibrant and untamed, made her instantly recognizable on the pitch. Five years into her senior career, she wasn’t merely building a reputation - she was forging a legacy. Álvarez wasn’t just like any other striker. She was a visionary, the architect of every calculated play. Her presence on the field was magnetic, a quarterback with cleats, orchestrating her team with the precision of a master tactician. Her vision turned opportunities into inevitabilities, her passes threading needles where none seemed to exist and her goals rewrote the game in real-time, bending it to her will. On the league’s top-scoring charts, her name wasn’t just frequent - it was a constant.

Yet, Judy Álvarez was far more than a collection of numbers and statistics. To Pittsburgh, she was a hero, the embodiment of grit and resilience. The team’s heartbeat. She poured every ounce of herself onto the field - her blood, her sweat, her unyielding spirit - refusing to yield even a fragment of ground to her opponents. For a city that loved its fighters, Judy wasn’t just a player - she was a symbol of their unbreakable pride, their enduring hope, and their unshakable will to persevere. She inspired, she led, she fought - and she intended to win.

Judy carried the weight of unfulfilled dreams - a championship that had always danced just out of reach. The sting of last year’s narrow defeat clung to her, a persistent ghost haunting the edges of her mind. But this season was different, it had to be. Determination burned in her veins, her hunger for victory reflected in every stride, every kick.

Behind her, her team was an unbreakable force, a juggernaut. Rita Wheeler and Roxanne Summer, Judy’s closest friends, formed the foundation of the team’s ironclad defense. Their partnership was a seamless blend of power and intuition, each knowing the other’s next move before it was made. To opponents, they weren’t just a backline - they were an impassable wall, a fortress that stood unshaken.

In the midfield, Ruby Collins brought her years of experience to the fore, her presence steadying the team like a lighthouse in a storm. Surrounding her were fresh faces - rookies and new additions who had found their footing with surprising speed. The Dolls' midfield, a blend of seasoned wisdom and raw potential, thrived on adaptability and precision.

Anchoring it all was Iris Tanner, a goalkeeper whose reputation preceded her. One of the league’s finest, she turned would-be goals into fleeting dreams with breathtaking saves that defied both logic and physics. Every dive, every catch, every impossible stop solidified her place as the last line of defense, the guardian of the Dolls’ ambitions.

Together, the Pittsburgh Dolls were more than a team, they were a force of nature that commanded the pitch. They weren’t just contenders for the championship, they were its inevitability. As if destiny itself wore their colors. For Judy and her team, this season wasn’t about proving their dominance - it was about claiming what had always felt like theirs.

During a particularly fierce attack on Claws’ goal, Judy’s shot ricocheted off the post, missing it by inches. She clenched her jaw, frustration flashing in her eyes before she quickly reset, scanning her surroundings with laser focus. She saw Stout, spitting blood onto the pitch and shouting something inaudible at the Claws’ coach. The referee quickly signaled for substitutions. A defender and a striker were trudging off the field, their heads hung low as the blond-haired tyrant berated them, cans and jeers raining down from the stands.

Taking the place of one of the departing players was a petite, dark-skinned girl with a shaved head. She looked bewildered, like a lamb led to slaughter. But it wasn’t her that caught Judy’s attention. No, her focus was on the other newcomer - a tall, blue-haired player with loose, flowing hair and piercing gray eyes burning with determination. As this new player sprinted onto the field, she felt a jolt of something unfamiliar - a mixture of curiosity and anticipation. The striker moved with a fluid grace, her presence on the pitch immediately commanding. Judy couldn’t tear her eyes away, sensing that this was the beginning of something significant, something that went beyond the game itself.

It took the newcomer barely five minutes to make her mark. Stout, with a deft touch, sent a beautiful lob that arced across half the field, landing perfectly at the feet of the blue-haired striker. She took the ball with ease, effortlessly outmuscling one of their midfielders before weaving her way past two defenders. Even Rita couldn’t stop her, although she was inches away from a bone-crunching tackle. Approaching the penalty area with remarkable composure, the forward fired the ball into the top right corner, just beneath the crossbar. Iris had no chance.

The rafters erupted into a frenzy, the Claws celebrating as if they had just clinched the championship. Even Stout cracked a rare smile. But the blue-haired striker remained stoic. She didn’t join in the revelry, instead, she simply turned and jogged back to her position in the midfield. As she passed by, her eyes met Judy’s for a fleeting moment. She smiled and winked, leaving the Dolls’ captain stunned.

Who was this girl? That play had been a highlight reel moment - darting past four rivals and slotting the ball in with such precision. That was no rookie’s move. And soccer was Judy’s entire world since she was a kid - she knew every major player by heart, even those who played overseas. She studied their techniques, memorized the strategies of various clubs, and watched matches from around the globe daily. How had she never heard of any Bakker?

Judy froze, rooted to the spot, her breath caught in her chest as her gaze locked onto the stormy gray eyes staring back at her. For a moment, everything else faded, the world narrowing to the defiant smirk curving those lips and the challenge that danced in her gaze.

Then the moment shattered.

It happened too fast for Judy to process. A blur of motion from behind, the dull thud of impact, and the blue-haired woman crumpled to the ground with a sharp exhale of pain. Judy’s stomach twisted, her mind screaming at her to move, to do something, but her body refused to obey.

Rita stood over the fallen figure, her face contorted with a fury Judy had never seen before. Sure, she'd witnessed her friend’s temper - sharp words, cutting glares, and the occasional shove during match - but this wasn’t the usual bluster. This was something raw, unrestrained, terrifying in its intensity.

“Fuckin’ doper!” Rita snarled, her voice laced with venom, and before Judy could intervene, Rita’s boot lashed out, connecting with the woman’s ribs.

“Reet, stop!” Judy’s voice cracked, trembling under the weight of her shock, but it was swallowed by the crowd’s collective gasp.

The woman coughed, blood trickling from the corner of her mouth as she turned her head slightly to spit onto the grass. Even now, her eyes held that unmistakable glint - unyielding defiance, cutting through the haze of pain. She didn’t beg, didn’t cry out, just glared up at Rita with a silence louder than any protest.

And then, chaos erupted. Stout barreled into Rita. Shouts turned to screams, whistles blared, and bodies collided in a flurry of fists and limbs. Judy’s instincts kicked in, her heart hammering as she rushed forward, her only thought to reach the fallen girl. But before she could, an elbow smashed into her face, the sharp burst of pain making her stumble. Someone’s hand yanked her hair, dragging her backward into the fray.

The pitch devolved into pure anarchy. Players clashed, their shouts blending with the deafening roar of the crowd, which had gone from ecstatic to bloodthirsty. Officials darted between skirmishes, their whistles useless against the surge of violence. Judy fought to stay on her feet, her vision spinning, her focus fractured.

Security swarmed the field, a flood of black uniforms hauling players apart. Even in the chaos, Judy knew this wasn’t just another brawl. Hard hits, being dragged down by your jersey or catching an elbow to the face were part of the game, sure, but attacking someone from behind and kicking them while they were down? That wouldn’t be overlooked. Not even in this league.

The match was called off in record time. The stadium’s cheers curdled into jeers and boos, fans hurling insults and trash in equal measure. The players were herded off the field by staff and security, a procession of tense, bruised egos and simmering tempers. Judy followed her team, her movements mechanical, her head pounding. She caught a glimpse of Rita still raging. She exchanged curses with someone from the stands who’d pelted her with an empty can. Their manager stormed over, grabbing the purple-haired defender by the collar and dragging her to the bus with a fury that almost matched hers.

The ride to the airport was oppressively silent, the weight of what had happened pressing down on everyone. No one spoke, not even the coach. Judy sat by the window, her cheek resting against the cool glass as she stared out at the sprawling neon haze of Night City. The lights bled into one another, ribbons of color streaking through the darkness. This city had once been her home, but now, looking out at its altered skyline, it bore little resemblance to the place she remembered. Long ago, she had fled from here, seeking escape from the stench of decay and the pervasive violence that seemed to seep into every corner of the city. And she didn’t miss it, not one bit.

As the bus sped towards the airport, the team sat in contemplative silence, each player lost in their own mind. Judy’s thoughts were a whirlwind, replaying the scene over and over - the skillful goal, the intense gaze, the enigmatic wink, the fight. She couldn’t shake the image of the girl from her thoughts. The mystery of her identity gnawed at Judy, mingling with a newfound curiosity and an insistent desire to uncover the story behind those gray eyes.

They knew their coaches would ensure they felt the weight of their recent defeat during the morning practice. The sun was still hidden when they began, but now it loomed high above them. They had been running drills for the past three hours, the intensity unrelenting.

The brawl with the Tyger Claws had left its mark. Not only had it resulted in a few black eyes, a broken nose, a sprained ankle, and a two-match suspension for Rita, but neither team had earned any points, complicating their standings for the season. Also, their next match against the Los Angeles Angels - their main rival - ended in a loss. The official reasons cited were the absence of their best defender, another midfielder out due to injury, and the lingering physical toll from the recent altercation. But deep down, Judy blamed herself. She had been unfocused, hitting the posts two times during the match and missing a crucial opportunity to tie the game in the final moments.

There were consequences. And now the whole team was paying for her mistakes. Most of the players looked exhausted, nearly on the verge of passing out. Faces were flushed, breaths came in ragged gasps, and legs trembled with fatigue. Judy, mostly because of her guilty conscience, ensured everyone had something to drink during the brief breaks between exercises and tried to keep the team motivated, despite the torturous regimen.

Judy moved among her teammates, offering words of encouragement and helping them push through the grueling training session. She could see the strain etched into their expressions. "Hang in there," she called out, her voice carrying a note of steely resolve. "We're almost through this. Keep pushing!"

The team responded with nods and murmurs of agreement, drawing strength from their captain's words. The morning sun climbed higher, casting long shadows across the training field.

"Suicides!" the plump assistant coach barked. "Get your lazy butts off the ground and run to the line! Especially you, Wheeler! Hope you are enjoying your vacation and learned something by watching the last game from the rafters."

"Aye aye, sir!" Rita shouted as she started jogging.

Judy was immediately by her side, sensing her teammate's legs giving out. Rita looked like she was on the verge of vomiting.

"I learned how good Bianca’s ass looks in those shorts," the purple-haired woman murmured as they reached the end of the field and started running back.

"What did you say, Wheeler?!"

"I learned how we should position ourselves to block the shots!" she shouted back, and Judy chuckled slightly.

Finally, when they all reached the last line, the sharp blast of the whistle echoed through the air, signaling the end of the training session.

"Hope you enjoyed this quick jog, ladies," the assistant coach said as the entire group collapsed onto the ground. "Don't get too comfortable - there's more to come. Catch your breath, refresh, grab a bite, and we'll reconvene this evening… Álvarez, make sure no one vomits on the grass. And get your fuckin’ team back in shape. Yesterday, you led a bunch of useless weaklings, not the fighters I trained. Dismissed!"

The team lay sprawled on the grass, their bodies aching from the relentless drills. Judy, breathing heavily, looked around at her exhausted teammates, determination flickering in her eyes. She knew they had it in them to rise to the occasion, to prove they were more than just the sum of their recent failures.

As they entered the dressing room, the silence was almost palpable, only broken by the sound of their ragged breaths and the distant, gut-wrenching retching from someone vomiting in the toilet. They slumped onto the benches, sweat-drenched and weary, their faces etched with fatigue.

Roxanne leaned back against her locker, eyes closed, struggling to steady her breathing. "That was fuckin’ brutal," she muttered, her voice barely above a whisper.

Judy nodded, wiping her face with a towel. "Yeah, but we needed it," she said. "We knew winning the league wasn't going to be easy."

“It’s all because of that bitch,” Rita interjected as she peeled off her soaked shirt.

“Please, Reet, don’t start this again,” Judy pleaded.

“No one ever heard of her, she came out of nowhere and put a beauty behind Tanner without breakin’ a sweat!” Rita exclaimed, standing up. “She’s either doping or has some fuckin’ hidden cyberware that officials missed during scans! She got a hat-trick against the Aces yesterday. Come on, Jude, you know this is fuckin’ impossible!”

“Stop it,” the Dolls’ captain responded more firmly this time, the authority in her voice unmistakable. “Those conspiracy theories are just a bunch of bullshit. You know they’ve tested and scanned her. She’s just that fuckin’ good. Accept it an’ find a way to stop her.”

Their eyes locked, Rita’s gaze challenging, but Judy held her ground. After a tense moment, the purple-haired woman scoffed and stormed off towards the showers. Judy took a deep breath, feeling frustration boil within her. She was determined to lead her team through this, no matter what it took.

She had watched the Tyger Claws match this morning, meticulously making notes. Though she wouldn’t admit it in front of the team, Bakker might be one of the best strikers she had ever seen. Judy had only watched one full match, but what she saw made her anxious. The blue-haired forward’s agility, resilience, and precision were impossible to ignore. Judy decided then and there to make it her mission to learn everything she could about her new rival. She needed to find a way to stop her next time. The challenge was daunting, but as the team captain, she knew that their success hinged on her ability to rise to this occasion, to be the leader they needed.

The championship was within their grasp, and she would not let it slip away.

Judy stirred as the first light of dawn bled through the thin, faded curtains of her apartment. The early gray washed over the room, quiet and still, wrapping around her like an old, familiar comforter. She blinked the haze of sleep from her eyes and turned her head toward the glow of her digital clock perched precariously on the cluttered bedside table. 5:55 AM. Five more minutes before her alarm would split the silence.

She sighed, savoring the last stretch of peace, and slowly pushed herself upright, wincing as her neck cracked when she rolled her head from side to side. With a quiet groan, she swung her legs over the side of the bed, her bare feet meeting the cool, unforgiving floor. Rising, she padded across the small room, her steps quiet on the worn hardwood. She stopped by the wide window, resting her hands on the cold sill as her gaze swept over the sleepy city below. Streetlights flickered uncertainly, their amber halos fading into the crisp winter air. Across the street, her neighbor - gray-haired man, perpetually wrapped in a worn brown jacket - walked along the cracked sidewalk with his shaggy, tail-wagging mutt. The dog sniffed eagerly at damp leaves clustered in the gutter, oblivious to the season’s growing chill.

A faint smile tugged at her lips, fleeting but real. Turning back inside, her eyes landed on her laptop, still resting on the corner of her desk where she’d abandoned it the night before. She flipped it open, its pale glow spilling into the room, harsh against the soft dawn. Her calendar blinked to life - appointments, training sessions, reminders - all meticulously arranged in precise blocks. No room for error, no missed tasks. She scanned the entries, ensuring nothing urgent had slipped her mind.

Some people called her obsessively organized, but she didn’t think that was entirely fair.

Sure, she kept the important things in order. Her gear was always packed and ready for the training. Her schedule was color-coded, synced across all devices, and backed up in three different places. Her notes were meticulously labeled and arranged. The clothes in her wardrobe were lined up with military precision. That wasn’t obsessive - it was just practical.

The rest? A different story.

She was messy. Dirty dishes often sat stacked in the sink longer than they should. Laundry she’d meant to throw in the wash three days ago still cluttered the bathroom floor. A couple of abandoned coffee mugs gathered dust - or worse, sprouted mold - in forgotten corners of her apartment. Traces of protein powder streaked across the kitchen counter from yesterday’s rushed breakfast shake. Life left smudges she didn’t always wipe away.

She could be spontaneous, sometimes. Like last week, when her calves still burned from a brutal training session, and she skipped the crowded Friday market entirely, ordering takeout from a restaurant she’d never tried before. Or just last night, when she let Rita pick her drink at their favorite bar, fully aware it would be something strong and far from her usual alcohol-free standby.

She could handle a little chaos, too. Like when she finally flirted back with that blue-eyed barista who’d been undressing her with every post-run latte order - though, in fairness, that only happened because someone bumped into her, spilling hot coffee all over her shirt. Or like last year, when her hairdresser decided - without asking - to ditch her signature pink-and-green hair for an electric red experiment. She hadn’t killed him. Hadn’t even yelled. Just left an anonymous bad review online and endured the unfamiliar color for a month before quietly requesting her usual shades again.

See? Not obsessive. Not really. She had her quirks, she liked things neat, predictable. It kept her calm and anchored. There were no surprises in a well-planned day.

Rita never called her strict or rigid or disciplined like other people did. Rita just called her a fucking nerd with her spreadsheets, routines, meticulously curated calendar, and backup plans for even the most trivial things. But Judy was happy in her carefully crafted bubble where she could always know what was coming next, what she’d be doing this time tomorrow - or even next month.

Most people didn’t understand why she needed that kind of control. Why sudden changes felt like cracks in her armor. Like the ground shifting beneath her feet. They didn’t understand why the pitch was the only place where she let it all go.

Only Rita understood.

Rita, who found her that day on the living room floor, shattered and silent. Rita, who wordlessly packed up Judy’s things and took her back to her own place. Rita, who didn’t push, didn’t demand explanations when Judy couldn’t speak about what had happened. Rita, who stayed. Who picked up the pieces Judy couldn’t bear to touch.

Right on cue, her alarm blared, its sharp buzz slicing through the quiet. Judy exhaled slowly and shut her laptop with a soft, resolute click. The familiar weight of the coming day settled over her shoulders - not oppressive, but steady.

Turning toward the old wooden wardrobe near the corner, she pulled the creaking door open, fingers brushing against well-worn fabrics. Her running gear waited where she’d left it - black leggings snug from countless miles, a fitted thermal top designed for the biting chill, and her favorite weathered hoodie, its cuffs frayed but comforting. She could’ve replaced it long ago - but some things felt better broken in, earned through time and use.

As she dressed, the soft rustling of fabric was the only sound in the still room. She tugged the hoodie over her head, its familiar weight settling around her like an old friend. Outside, the winter wind whispered against the windows, carrying the distant hum of the waking city - indifferent, relentless. Anticipation thrummed faintly in Judy’s chest, stirring beneath her skin. The streets would be cold, the air sharp enough to sting her lungs - but that was exactly what she wanted. Out there, it was just her breath, her steps, the steady rhythm pounding out whatever she couldn’t quite shake. No noise she couldn’t outrun.

The party was in full swing, the room buzzing with laughter and conversation, the air heavy with the mingled scents of perfume and the sharp tang of alcohol. Judy and Rita found themselves in a cozy corner, away from the main throng. Rita, glassy-eyed and unsteady, was leaning heavily against the wall, a drink clutched loosely in her hand. Judy, in stark contrast, sipped a mocktail, her gaze drifting across the room with a blend of amusement.

“You know, doll, you should relax for once,” Rita slurred, her words tumbling over each other like mismatched puzzle pieces, “Have a drink, live a little. We’re not playin’ for another three weeks. You’ve been tense lately. Chill, babe, grab a drink.”

Judy shook her head, a small smile playing on her lips. “Nah, I’m good, Reet. Don’t wanna wake up feelin’ like shit tomorrow. I’m gonna leave partyin’ to you.”

Rita waved a dismissive hand, nearly spilling her drink in the process. “You’re such a buzzkill, Alvy... Alright, no booze for you, Captain Buzzkill. But you gotta indulge in something… How about you look around, so many cuties here. Why don’t you choose one and have a quickie in the bathroom?”

Judy chuckled, her eyes scanning the lively room. The music's rhythmic thump seemed to mirror her own heartbeat. Her attention was instantly drawn to a group of women chatting animatedly near the pool table. One of them, a tall, light-skinned girl with long, curly blue hair, had been casting interested glances her way since they arrived. Judy found herself wondering if she had piercing gray eyes.

She sighed and cursed under her breath, annoyed that even now, during the winter break, Bakker still occupied her thoughts. She blamed it on the lingering frustration of being dethroned as the league’s top scorer. The Claws’ forward had two goals more than her, but Judy still had half a season to reclaim the title, and she was determined to do so. She made a mental note to set her alarm an hour earlier, committed to extend her morning jog. If she was going to catch up with Bakker, she needed to push herself harder than ever.

“I appreciate the concern, Reet,” she said, her voice carrying a note of weariness, “but I’m not sure this is the right time or place for that.”

Before her move to Pittsburgh and taking on the captaincy, she had been awkward and shy. Often omitted, entangled in toxic relationships with girlfriends who treated her poorly. Loyalty had always been her downfall, so even when her partners cheated, she never strayed. Somehow this left her hesitant to talk to random strangers at bars or parties, always afraid she wouldn’t handle her feelings well in the next morning. Her last girlfriend made her think she was too emotional and temperamental, and it stuck with her for a long time.

However, hanging out with Rita and Tom - the Dolls’ physiotherapist who was around their age - had changed her. While she wasn't a natural flirt or social butterfly like the other two, she had grown more confident over the years and could now easily convince a stranger to come home with her. No strings attached, of course, as she didn’t have time or energy for serious relationships.

The Dolls' growing reputation throughout the city also helped. The team’s recent successes had only made it easier for Judy to attract interest and hit on girls. They didn’t have groupies following them everywhere like some male players, but enough people recognized them and wanted to brag to their friends about spending the night with local celebrity. Rita took advantage of that constantly. Judy, on the other hand, liked a challenge, and there probably wouldn’t be one here.

The purple-haired woman tapped the captain’s arm lightly, pulling her from her thoughts. "You’re impossible. How long has it been since you had a nice, curvy, sweaty body in your sheets? A little freak in the sheets could be good for your stress. And Bianca is practically throwing herself at you, and let’s be honest, she’s a ten, but you’re ignoring her. If I were you—”

“But you’re not,” Judy interrupted with a deep sigh, taking another sip of her mocktail. “Fuckin’ a rookie isn’t exactly on my agenda. And ‘member what happened when you didn’t call Skye back? I’m not about to ruin this team with stupid decisions.”

“Oh, come on, it wasn’t that bad,” Rita said with a chuckle, rolling her eyes dramatically. “And unfortunately, she was just as good in bed as she was on the pitch… so, y’know, really fuckin’ sloppy. Her transfer was a blessin’.”

“Not worth it,” Judy commented dryly.

“I still think you need to get laid, doll,” the purple-haired woman grinned. “It doesn’t have to be the rookie… but if you won’t choose, I will.”

She straightened up, scanning the crowd with exaggerated focus. After a moment, she pointed towards a petite brunette sitting on a nearby couch, alone. “What about her? She’s cute and she’s been checkin’ you out all night.”

Judy followed her friend’s gaze, her eyes landing on the brunette. She was indeed beautiful, with a warm smile, piercing amber eyes, and a lively energy that was hard to ignore. Judy hesitated, feeling a mix of curiosity and reluctance. “She is cute,” she admitted. “But I d—”

“No buts!” Rita interrupted, her tone suddenly serious. “You deserve to have some fun too, Jude. You’re always so focused on everyone else, on the game, on being the perfect captain. Tonight, just for a few hours, let fuckin’ gooooo. Please. For me. For the team’s sake.”

Judy sighed. “Alright, alright. I’ll talk to her. But if she runs away screaming, I’m blamin’ you.”

Rita laughed, a loud, uninhibited sound that drew a few glances their way. “Deal. Not a chance she’s runnin’ from Punchin’. Now go get her, tiger!”

Taking a deep breath, she set her mocktail down and made her way through the crowd toward the brunette. As she approached, the girl looked up, her eyes meeting Judy’s with a spark of interest.

“Hi, mind if I join you?”

The brunette smiled. “No, I don’t mind at all.”

The morning sunlight spilled through the windows in golden streams, softening the edges of Judy’s small apartment. She stood at the door, her fingers lightly brushing the frame as she kissed the brunette goodbye. The warmth of the night persisted in the way their lips met. Judy's touch was deliberate as her fingers traced the lines of the dreamcatcher tattoo inked on the girl’s neck, a fleeting gesture that drew a quiet, breathless whimper from her.

Rhea - that was her name, as Judy had learned over laughter and tangled sheets the night before - deepened the kiss, her hands lingering at Judy’s sides as though reluctant to let go. The taste of her, a blend of something sweet and elusive, lingered even as their lips finally parted.

“Call me,” Rhea said softly, her voice carrying the tentative weight of hope and something unspoken. Her lips curved into a smile that lit up her face, her eyes searching Judy’s for a fleeting moment before she stepped back. She turned and descended the stairs, her steps a gentle rhythm that echoed faintly in the stairwell.

Judy leaned against the doorframe, watching her go with a small, satisfied smile tugging at her lips. Just as she moved to close the door, the sound of a creak broke the stillness. Across the hall, the opposite apartment door swung open. Rita stood there, one hand on the frame and an unmistakable grin spreading across her face. Her eyes sparkled with mischief, the corners of her mouth twitching like she was holding back laughter.

“Well, well, well,” Rita drawled, her voice lilting with playful sarcasm. “Another one bites the dust, huh?”

Judy rolled her eyes but couldn't suppress her own smile. "Don't start," she replied, trying to sound exasperated but failing miserably.

"Come on, Cap, give me some credit," Rita teased, her grin widening. “I knew you’d like her. She's exactly your type.”

“Oh, and what’s my type then?” Judy asked, arching an eyebrow in challenge.

"Someone nice-looking, little rough around the edges. Maybe little damaged, mysterious, not too tall, with tattoos and beautiful eyes."

"Wow," Judy exclaimed after a short pause. "Reet, you're way too invested in my sex life. Mind your own business."

Rita laughed, a light, carefree sound that filled the hallway. "Admit it—I’m right."

She winked and retreated back into her apartment, leaving Judy alone with her thoughts. Judy closed her door and leaned against it for a moment, a satisfied sigh escaping her lips. Maybe Rita was right. Maybe she did need to let go every once in a while.

She made her way back into her apartment, feeling lighter, more at ease, as she started changing into her track pants and thermoactive longsleeve, her usual attire for the morning jog during winter.

Despite waking up extra early and skipping her usual morning shake for breakfast, Judy still found herself racing against the clock. Maybe, but just maybe, her morning routine had been derailed by the hours spent rewatching last night’s match between the Claws and the Witches instead of following her standard plan of the day.

She wouldn’t call it an obsession, but Judy had meticulously studied every goal Bakker had scored this year - each replay scrutinized at least five times over. She marveled at the blue-haired striker's agility, the effortless speed and grace with which she navigated the field, dribbling past defenders as if they were mere traffic cones. The sheer power behind her strikes and the pinpoint precision of her passes captivated her.

But it wasn’t just that. She admired Bakker's toned arms and legs, the tattoos peeking from beneath her jersey, the enigmatic twinkling of her eyes whenever she scored - despite the stoic façade she maintained, never celebrating with the team. Judy even found herself charmed by the freckles that adorned the forward’s face, a detail that humanized the otherwise formidable athlete.

However diligently Judy searched for information about Bakker beyond the pitch, her efforts yielded scant results. The striker's profile on the league’s official site was disappointingly sparse, offering little more than basic statistics. There were no mentions of junior leagues or previous teams to shed light on the blue-haired woman’s early career. Despite being Night City’s best player, she maintained a mysterious silence with the media, adding to the enigma surrounding her persona.

The only fragment of her past came from an interview with the Claws' coach, Wakako Okada - a silver-haired figure known for her astute judgment in talent scouting. Okada disclosed an improbable tale - she had accidentally discovered Valerie Bakker while observing her nephew's amateur match in Heywood. Despite Okada's invitation to join the team, Bakker initially declined, requiring the coach to make several persuasive visits before she changed her mind.

The story seemed straight out of a nostalgic sports film from the early 2000s, filled with unbelievable twists of fate and moments of reluctant heroism. Judy couldn’t definitively verify its authenticity, but one undeniable truth emerged from her observations - Bakker possessed an innate, raw talent - potentially even a generational talent - that had remained hidden from the spotlight until now.

No, Judy insisted to herself, she wasn’t obsessed. She just couldn’t resist delving deeper into the mystery that was Valerie Bakker, driven by a curiosity that bordered on fascination. Really - she wasn’t obsessed.

She drummed her fingers impatiently on the worn steering wheel, stealing anxious glances at the dashboard clock that seemed to mock her with each passing minute. Frustration bubbled up within her, fueled by the sluggish crawl of morning traffic in Pittsburgh. Her old, trusty blue van crept along the congested streets, the city awakening around her with a cacophony of honking horns and bustling pedestrians.

Sunlight filtered through the urban jungle of towering buildings, casting long shadows across the pavement. The van rumbled along, its engine protesting the relentless stop-and-go rhythm of the morning rush. Judy cursed softly under her breath, silently willing the traffic to magically disappear.

After what felt like an interminable journey, she finally arrived at her destination and maneuvered her van into the underground parking, pulling up next to Rita’s sleek pink Quadra. Judy hurried towards the entrance of the training facility, her steps quick and determined.

Inside the building, the bustling corridors blurred around her as she rushed forward, offering hurried apologies to those she nearly collided with. Her footsteps echoed with urgency, her heart pounding in her chest as she realized she was already late for the meeting with the coach. Finally, she reached the threshold of the meeting room and paused to collect herself, drawing in a deep breath before pushing open the door and stepping inside.

The room was hushed. Rita was seated on the couch by the far wall, playing with her phone. Regina Jones, their head coach, was engrossed in a stack of papers, absently chewing on her pen.

Judy knew exactly what was running through her coach’s mind - they were nearing the dreaded final battle of the season, a rematch with the Tyger Claws, and they needed to prepare for it. The memory of their last encounter, nearly six months ago, was still fresh. The match had been halted before halftime, ending in chaos. Fortunately, the team had rallied in the following matches, winning almost every game and tying once with Chicago’s team. The Tyger Claws had matched their performance stride for stride. For the first time in years, the championship hinged on the outcome of the final match.

The coach’s voice sliced through the room, abruptly ending her reverie. "Ah, Álvarez, glad you could join us," Regina said, her tone neutral as she gestured for Judy to take a seat on the opposite side of the desk.

"Sorry, got stuck in traffic," she mumbled as she settled into the chair.

"Being late, that’s so unlike you," Regina responded with a smile, finally meeting the team captain's gaze. "But since it's your first time since… well, ever… I'll let it slide."

Their relationship stretched back to Judy’s days playing for the Salem Juniors’ team, where Regina had been an assistant coach. She had taken Judy under her wing, training her after hours, explaining different techniques, strategies and teaching her how to read the rival’s game.

Regina’s mentorship extended beyond the pitch. For Judy's fifteenth birthday, she had gifted her pupil a treasure trove of cassettes with old matches, knowing Judy’s grandfather had an old VHS player at home. She always waited with Judy in the parking lot, even in pouring rain, ensuring her grandparents picked her up, as they were often delayed by work. Regina had even given Judy her own tampons when she had her first period during one of the trainings. To Judy, Regina was more than a coach - she was the mother she never had.

This black-haired woman had also been the catalyst for Judy, Roxanne, and Rita’s departure from Night City. The trio had walked away from the Tyger Claws locker room after their last manager had demanded they throw a match, given the gang’s heavy bets against their win. Regina had been there, offering them a fresh start in Pittsburgh and taking them under her wing. Again.

"I’ve got the training schedule sorted," Regina said, handing a piece of paper with a timetable to the younger woman. "It’s going to be a busy couple of days. It might be worth taking the team out for dinner later in the week. I can send Micah a note to help you arrange that."

"No need," Judy replied. "I’ve already reserved us a space in the Green Room."

"And that’s why you’re the captain," Rita chimed in, standing up. "I’m gonna hit the gym. I don’t think you need me for the whole plannin’ and shit talkin’."

After Rita left the room, Judy turned to her coach with a smile.

"Do you think they'll be ready for the big match on Friday?" Regina asked, scribbling something in her notepad.

"I'll make sure they are," Judy responded, determination in her voice.

“Are you ready, Jude?”

“Always.”

The Green Room, known for its sophisticated ambiance, was an oasis of calm amid the city's hustle. The interior boasted lush greenery that cascaded from the ceiling and adorned the walls, creating a vibrant, verdant atmosphere. Warm, ambient lighting bathed the space in a golden glow, highlighting the elegant wooden furniture and the polished, earthy tones of the decor. It was a perfect blend of nature and urban chic, with wide windows offering a panoramic view of Pittsburgh’s skyline, the lights twinkling like stars in the night.

The team sat around a large table near the center of the room, their laughter and chatter filling the space. Plates of gourmet dishes were passed around. The aromas of roasted vegetables, herbed meats, and crusty bread mingled in the air, blending with the faint citrus and mint scents of their mocktails.

Judy’s eyes roamed the table, taking in the familiar faces of her teammates. Rita, always the life of the party, was midway through a particularly animated story about training mishaps, her hands cutting through the air as she mimicked the scene. Laughter erupted as Bianca, their rookie midfielder with a promising debut season, tried and failed to suppress a grin, her shoulders shaking. Even Regina, who usually carried the weight of her leadership with quiet intensity, seemed lighter tonight, her features softened by the glow of shared warmth.

“Let’s make tomorrow count,” Judy said, lifting her glass high. Her voice carried a confident steadiness she wasn’t entirely sure she felt. “To the Dolls! And to kicking some serious ass tomorrow.”

“Hear, hear!” her teammates echoed the toast, glasses clinking together in a symphony of determination.

Around the table, heads nodded, smiles sharpening into focused resolve. Tomorrow wasn’t just another match - it was their chance to prove they belonged among the best. It was their time to become immortal. And they were ready to face the challenge, to fight for their dream, and to prove to everyone, and to themselves, that they were a force to be reckoned with.

The Green Room had offered them this reprieve - a momentary escape from the mounting pressure and endless preparation. But as plates were cleared and chairs pushed back, the calm began to give way to an undercurrent of anticipation. Judy stayed back as her teammates moved toward the exit, her gaze drawn to the vast expanse of city lights outside the windows. The world below was alive, the flickering brilliance of a million tiny bulbs mirroring the hopes, fears, and dreams that churned within her.

“Lost in thought?” The voice startled her. Judy turned to see Bianca standing beside her, the younger woman’s lips curled into a smirk. There was something in her eyes - hesitation mingled with a spark of courage, as if she’d been building up to this moment for months. “Wanna celebrate some more?”

Judy was well aware of Bianca’s crush. She had caught the young midfielder staring at her too long, blushing every time Judy was around. But she had never before mustered the courage to ask directly, like she did now. Maybe after so many months of being encouraged to do this by Rita, Judy would entertain the idea of taking the rookie back home and spending an evening beneath the sheets. For a brief moment, she considered it. Bianca was striking, with her raven-black hair and unguarded enthusiasm, and there was a certain charm in the way she wore her heart on her sleeve.

But tonight wasn’t the night for indulgence. Tomorrow loomed too large, its weight pressing against her ribs like a second heartbeat.

Judy forced a smile, the edges tinged with apology. “Not tonight, Bee. We’ve got a championship to win.”

Bianca’s smirk faltered, her shoulders dropping slightly before she masked her disappointment with a nod. She walked away, her retreat marked by an air of quiet acceptance. Judy turned back to the city, her fingers brushing against the cool glass. The lights outside seemed to pulse in time with the rhythm of her racing heart.

The tunnel hummed with an almost palpable energy, the kind that made the air thick and sharp, like the charged stillness before a storm. Shadows danced along the damp, narrow walls, reflecting the restless movement of players from both teams. Judy stood amid her teammates, her shoulders squared, her gaze fixed straight ahead, yet her mind was buzzing with the sharp-edged rhythm of strategies and counterplays.

Beyond the tunnel walls, the muffled roar of the crowd pulsed like distant thunder, a steady reminder of the chaos awaiting them on the pitch. She could feel it seeping in, vibrating through the soles of her cleats and into her very bones. But Judy didn’t falter - she thrived on this edge of chaos. It was just soccer, ball, two goals and the grass - a place that felt like home.

Still, as the seconds ticked by, something else gnawed at her focus - a thread of awareness tugging her attention sideways. The presence beside her loomed larger than the others. Judy shifted her gaze slightly, her chest tightening as her eyes landed on Valerie Bakker. The Claws’ striker stood just inches away, a quiet force of composure amid the crackling tension.

Their eyes met then, a brief, electric connection that lingered a heartbeat too long. Valerie’s gaze held a depth that made the air catch in Judy’s throat - a silent challenge layered with curiosity and something unspoken, something that set Judy’s pulse skittering. The tunnel seemed to collapse inward, the other players dissolving into blurry shadows. All that remained was the sharp clarity of Valerie - the faint mist of her breath in the cool air, the subtle flex of her fingers as she rolled her wrists, the determination etched into the lines of her face, and the bruise blooming green and purple along the edge of her jaw.

Judy’s hand moved before her mind could catch up, her fingertips brushing over the tender mark on Valerie’s face. The bruise hadn’t been there during the Claws’ last match - a fact Judy knew with certainty, given how intently she had focused on the blue-haired striker while rewatching it multiple times. She must have earned it off the pitch, sometime in the past week, and the thought of it sent an unexpected pang of protectiveness through Judy.

Valerie didn’t flinch. Instead, she stilled under the touch, her lashes lowering as a soft sigh escaped her lips. Judy’s fingers lingered, tracing the delicate contours of Valerie’s jaw and cheek, until the other woman’s hand rose to meet hers. Slowly, Valerie curled her fingers around Judy’s palm, lowering it with a gentleness that sent a hot flush racing up Judy’s neck. Judy’s heart stuttered, and she looked away, her cheeks burning as she processed what she had just done. But Valerie didn’t let go. Her thumb brushed lightly against Judy’s knuckles before releasing her hand, and when Judy dared to meet her gaze again, she found herself caught in that same intensity, that same quiet pull that made the world feel distant and muted.

For a fleeting moment, the roaring crowd and the impending game ceased to exist. The tunnel around them blurred into insignificance, leaving only the two of them suspended in a quiet bubble.

“It’s nothing,” Valerie murmured, her hoarse voice breaking through the charged atmosphere. It wasn’t the words themselves but the texture of her voice - rough like gravel and edged with a vulnerability Judy hadn’t expected - that made Judy’s pulse quicken. It was the first time she’d heard Valerie speak, and the sound carried an unspoken weight, peeling back a sliver of the mystery surrounding the enigmatic striker.

Judy tilted her head, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. “Didn’t really ask,” she quipped. Her gaze flickered to the darkening bruise. “But that looks nasty. Where’d you pick it up?”

For a moment, Valerie’s sharp gray eyes softened, her guard slipping just enough for Judy to catch a glimpse of something unguarded. Then, just as quickly, it was gone. The blue-haired woman glanced down, her lips twitching into something that wasn’t quite a smile. “Ah, last match,” she said, the casualness of her tone at odds with the faint tension. “Took a knock to the head. You know how it goes.”

Judy did know. Injuries were a brutal inevitability in their line of work. But she also knew a lie when she heard one. She’d watched that game. No such hit had landed. Her eyes narrowed slightly, studying Valerie’s expression, but before she could press further, a voice cut through the charged quiet.

“Hey, rook. No flirting with the enemy.”

Judy turned to see Stout standing at the far end of the tunnel. The sharpness of her words was matched by the unwavering intensity of her gaze, which was fixed squarely on her rookie. Judy couldn’t help but notice the flicker of something in Stout’s expression - jealousy, maybe? Or was it just the steely protectiveness of a leader keeping her star player in line? Knowing the rumors about Stout, it would be out of character for her to show such vulnerability.

Judy glanced back at Valerie, who met her gaze evenly, the faintest hint of amusement playing at her lips. The moment stretched, questions brimming in Judy’s mind, her emotions a tangled mix of curiosity, caution, and something else she didn’t dare name. Then, sharp and piercing, a whistle sliced through the tension. The tunnel exploded into motion. Players surged forward, cleats pounding against concrete filling the confined space.

“Good luck,” the blue-haired striker said as they jogged shoulder to shoulder toward the pitch. Her voice was low, almost conspiratorial, and a sly wink followed her words. It was infuriating how easily she could unsettle Judy with a single gesture.

Then they were out, stepping into the cacophony of the stadium. The roar of the crowd hit them like a physical force, a wave of sound and energy that washed over them. The lights overhead were blindingly bright, illuminating the field in stark detail, every blade of grass sharp and vivid beneath their feet. She took a deep breath, letting the cool night air ground her, and cast one last glance at Valerie, now her opponent on the pitch. The blue-haired striker stood opposite her now, her expression unreadable, her focus razor-sharp.

This was no ordinary game. It was a proving ground, the culmination of months of sweat, sacrifice, and relentless training. Every step she’d taken had led her here, and now, there was no room for doubt or distraction. Judy straightened her shoulders, her jaw setting with quiet determination.

This was her moment. It was time to play.

The game was brutal from the outset. The Claws moved with a fluidity that spoke of relentless practice, their defense unusually tight, allowing no leverage whatsoever. But the Dolls were no less formidable. Judy directed her team with precise commands, her voice a steady anchor in the storm of the match.

Bakker was everywhere, darting past defenders with a speed and agility that seemed almost supernatural. Judy found herself in a never-ending duel with the striker, each encounter a test of skill and willpower. Sweat dripped down her forehead, her muscles burning with exertion, but she refused to give an inch.

Both Judy and Valerie had already scored. Bakker seized her opportunity when the Dolls' defenders focused on the other striker, finding just enough space to put the ball in the net with a powerful, precise strike that left everyone in awe. Judy, on the other hand, timed her run toward the goal perfectly and received a flawless cross from one of their midfielders. She launched herself into the air, and as her head connected with the ball, she sent it rocketing toward the goal. The Claws' goalkeeper dived, but it was too late. The ball hit the back of the net with a satisfying thud, and the stadium erupted into a deafening roar.

The match continued with relentless intensity, neither side willing to back down. The pitch became a battleground, where every pass, every tackle was fought with ferocity. Judy's voice echoed across the field, rallying her teammates, urging them to push harder, press on and dig deeper. As they were approaching a final whistle, with barely ten minutes remaining on the clock, Judy could feel the pressure mounting. A draw would not be enough - they needed a victory.

The final minutes were a blur of movement and adrenaline.

Tension peaked as Bakker broke free from the pack, streaking toward the goal with only Rita standing in her path. The blue-haired striker made a feint to the left, but the skilled defender anticipated her move with a deft slide tackle that disrupted her rhythm. The ball rebounded off Rita's foot and found its way to a Dolls' teammate, triggering a mixture of relief and frustration among the crowd - cheers from the Dolls' supporters and groans from the Claws'.

A few passes later, Judy seized control of the ball and surged down the right flank towards the rival goal. Despite the burning pain in her legs and the strain in her lungs, she remained focused. Two defenders, including the towering Stout, closed in on her, blocking any direct path to goal. Judy scanned the field quickly, spotting Bianca stealthily maneuvering into position amidst the Claws' defense.

Timing her move with precision, Judy waited until the defenders were within striking distance, then deftly shifted the ball to her left foot, feinting a shot that forced them to commit. Instead of firing at goal, she whipped a cross into the penalty area where Bianca was already waiting. The rookie needed only a touch to redirect the ball. The stadium erupted in a cacophony of cheers as the rookie’s strike hit the back of the net.

The next thing Judy registered was the piercing sound of the final whistle. Instantly, the entire team and coaching staff flooded onto the field, jubilantly converging on the raven-haired girl who had scored the decisive goal. They enveloped her in a chaotic embrace of cheers and celebration, their elation filling the air.

Judy struggled to catch her breath, glancing at the joyful chaos from her previous position on the right flank. Ignoring the urge to join her teammates in celebration, she made her way towards the center of the field, determined to uphold the tradition of shaking hands with the opposing captain. However, Stout was conspicuously absent, nowhere to be found. Exhausted from the intense match, Judy's legs faltered, and she sank to the ground.

They had done it. They were now the league champions! The realization washed over Judy like a wave. Her lifelong dream had been fulfilled, and her name would forever be etched into the annals of history. Overwhelmed by emotions, she buried her face in her hands, trying to steady her racing pulse.

"Congratulations," a familiar husky voice spoke from behind, causing Judy's heart to skip a beat. “Great game. You deserved it.”

She lifted her head slowly, turning to find the source of the voice. There, just inches behind her, stood Valerie Bakker, the Claws’ blue-haired striker, her eyes reflecting a blend of respect and admiration. Despite the intensity of the game they had just played, Bakker wore a genuine smile. Judy felt her hands lightly trembling, scolding herself inwardly for showing any hint of vulnerability, yet unable to completely compose herself. There was something more than just the result of the match unsettling her and she tried to bury that feeling.

“Thanks,” Judy replied, her cheeks flushed. “You scored an amazing goal.”

“Yeah, but it wasn’t enough,” Valerie sighed, extending her hand to help Judy to her feet. “We’ll get you next year.”

“I’d love to see you try,” she retorted with a grin, accepting the other woman’s hand and rising to her feet.

Their eyes locked as their fingers intertwined, Judy feeling her stomach twist with anticipation. She couldn’t tear her gaze away from Valerie’s piercing gray eyes, captivated by their twinkling intensity. In that moment, Judy knew she was in trouble.

She realized it wasn’t just fascination with the striker’s raw talent. She yearned to unravel the mystery surrounding this stunning woman. Every detail about the blue-haired woman stood out and lived rent-free in her mind - the confidence in her stance, her unwavering smile, her toned arms adorned with tattoos, and the challenge in her sparking eyes.

She couldn’t lie to herself anymore - it was an obsession. She had watched countless videos of the striker, and now she understood it wasn’t just to learn her game. They had spoken briefly once, in the tunnel, and Judy didn’t know much about her. Yet, she was longing to take another step and get closer to the blue-haired woman. It seemed ridiculous, but she couldn’t shake the strangely familiar feeling she had about Valerie.

Well… fuck. Apparently, she had a massive crush on Valerie Bakker. And she didn’t know until now.

The other woman said something, but Judy didn’t hear it. Her mind was racing, thoughts silencing everything around her. The match, her celebrating teammates, the fans storming the field, media around them - everything seemed to fade into insignificance.

“What?” she asked, hoping Bakker would repeat herself and cut through the fog of her turbulent thoughts.

“I asked if there’s something in my teeth because you’re staring so hard,” the gray-eyed woman replied with a smirk.

Judy blushed profusely, realizing how intense her stare had been, how she had blacked out everything else, and how Valerie had noticed.

“I was just thinkin’… um… how about we exchange shirts?” she blurted out the first thing that came to her mind.

“Already wanting to see me half-naked?” Valerie chuckled. “At least invite me to dinner first.”

“I can even offer you breakfast in the morning,” Judy responded without hesitation, winking, unable to stop herself.

“Álvarez, are you trying to seduce me?”

Something shattered inside her mind. Valerie wasn’t backing away from the conversation. She wasn’t dismissive - on the contrary, she was obviously flirting back. That realization made Judy feel warm inside, confirming that she wasn’t the only one interested in pushing this further. She decided to take the next step. She could play this game as well as the one they just finished.

“Trying?” she replied with a wide grin. “I think I’m succeeding.”

Valerie just smiled and pulled off her shirt. The sight took Judy's breath away. Her lips parted slightly at the unexpected view. She noticed the scars that adorned the other woman’s body and finally saw most of the tattoos on her arms. Her gaze lingered a bit too long on Valerie’s sports bra and the way her nipples hardened under the cold air. Judy’s mouth watered instantly as she started imagining taking the rest of her rival’s clothes off.

“Oh yeah, I think I won that round,” Valerie said with a smirk dancing on her lips. “Your turn.”

Judy finally snapped out of her trance and, with a chuckle, pulled off her own shirt. Instantly, she noticed a change in Valerie’s features. The striker was looking at her body intently, hunger and lust clouding her eyes.

No, she definitely hadn’t won.

“You were sayin’?” the Dolls’ captain teased, her voice tinged with playful impatience. “Are you going to stare all day or are we finally exchanging shirts and posing for a photo?

Valerie nodded, evidently unable to form a coherent sentence. The photographer was already beside them, ready to capture the moment. They swapped shirts and stood shoulder to shoulder. Judy felt the warmth radiating from Valerie’s body, and it took all her willpower to silence the intrusive thoughts urging her to grab the blue-haired woman right then and there.

They posed for a few photos, smiling for the cameras. But once the photographer signaled that he was done, they were left looking at each other with awkward smiles. Judy realized this fleeting moment was about to end. Soon, she would be swept up in the celebrations with her teammates, raising the trophy high, parading through Pittsburgh’s streets. Meanwhile, the Tyger Claws would head to the airport and return to the West Coast. Who knew when they would see each other again?

In a spur-of-the-moment decision, she stopped the photographer. "Do you have a pen or something I can write with?" she asked, her urgency evident. He eyed her suspiciously but handed her a felt-tip pen.

Judy jogged back to the Claws’ player and without hesitation, she reached for the blue-haired woman’s forearm, pulling it toward her with a firm yet unspoken confidence. The pen in her hand moved swiftly, scrawling digits across pale skin. Valerie didn’t so much as flinch. She stood there, still as stone, watching Judy with a wide grin.

“Text me,” Judy said as she finished, her voice steady despite the wild fluttering in her chest. Her lips quirking into a playful grin as she winked at the woman before her.

Time seemed to hang suspended when their gazes locked… and then it shattered. Judy barely had time to register the collective cheer of her teammates before she was tackled with all the force of a tidal wave. Arms wrapped around her from every direction, dragging her into a swirl of color and chaos. She stumbled, nearly losing her footing as Rita’s familiar, ear-splitting shout rang out right beside her.

“Cap, you fuckin’ legend!”

More bodies pressed in, laughter and shouts blending into a cacophony of celebration. Judy’s ribs protested the exuberance, and her lungs burned as someone nearly crushed her in a bear hug. She couldn’t tell where one set of limbs ended and another began. The heat of bodies and the overwhelming joy threatened to overwhelm her. Her vision swam, and for a moment, she thought she might pass out from the sheer intensity of it all.

Finally, with a laugh that was half gasp, half triumph, she wriggled free from the sea of her teammates, her breath coming in short bursts. She staggered a step, brushing loose strands of hair from her face as her eyes instinctively sought the tunnel.

There, retreating into the shadows, was the figure she had been searching for. Valerie’s gait was casual, almost lazy, as if she hadn’t a care in the world. Yet just as the darkness threatened to swallow her whole, she paused. Slowly, she turned, sending Judy a final, radiant smile. She raised her arm, the one with Judy’s hastily scrawled number, high into the air.

Judy couldn't stop smiling.

Chapter Text

Chapter II | Fade Into You
I wanna take the breath that's true.

The city of Pittsburgh was alive with celebration, its streets overflowing with the aftermath of the Dolls’ championship victory. The team had become legends overnight, their triumph igniting a wave of revelry that showed no signs of slowing. Rita had taken it upon herself to orchestrate the party - a bar crawl that seemed destined to cover every hotspot in the city. So far, they’d hit several iconic bars, each venue welcoming them like heroes, the drinks flowing freely courtesy of enthusiastic fans.

Now Judy found herself in a strip club. How Rita had managed to lead the team here remained a mystery - though, considering it was Rita, maybe it wasn’t surprising at all. The place pulsed with life, a cacophony of laughter, loud music, and jubilant shouts. The air was thick with sweat and perfume, a cocktail of scents that brought a pang of nostalgia. It reminded Judy of Lizzie’s, the bar in Night City where she’d spent countless nights unwinding with the rest of Claws during her time with them.

Her teammates, sprawled across the VIP section’s plush, slightly worn couches, were fully immersed in the experience. Two stunning women danced on the poles before them, their movements drawing whistles and cheers from the Dolls. Judy, however, had excused herself, retreating to the bar where she sat nursing a drink she had no intention of finishing. The chaos behind her was a blur of sound and color, a backdrop to the gnawing uncertainty in her mind.

She barely noticed the bartender at first - a striking woman with sharp eyes and a playful smile - until the second or third attempt to draw her into conversation. The woman leaned in, offering flirty banter and casual compliments that might have sparked Judy’s interest on any other night. But now, her mind was elsewhere, tethered to a single, persistent thought.

Judy glanced at her phone, the screen lit with nothing but the time and a glaring absence of notifications. Hours had passed since she’d scrawled her number on Valerie’s arm, her pulse quickening as she pressed the pen into the striker’s skin, daring to hope the moment meant as much to Valerie as it had to her. But now, with every minute of silence, doubt was clawing its way deeper into her thoughts. No messages, no calls.

What if she misread her? The question had been spinning in her mind, taunting her with the possibility that Valerie had no intention of following through, wasn’t interested at all. Judy’s gaze dropped to her untouched drink, and she stirred it absently, the ice clinking softly against the glass.

“Hey,” the bartender’s voice broke through her spiraling thoughts, pulling her back to the present. “You okay? You look... distracted.”

Judy forced a small smile. “I’m fine. Just not much of a drinker, I guess.”

The bartender raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. “Looks like more than that. Waiting on something?”

“Someone,” Judy admitted with a shrug, her tone betraying a mix of frustration and vulnerability.

“Must be someone special to have you sitting out that party,” the woman quipped with a knowing grin, gesturing toward the rowdy VIP section.

“Could be,” Judy murmured, more to herself than to the bartender. She glanced at her phone again, her chest tightening when it stayed silent. “Or maybe I’m just batshit crazy.”

Her grip tightened around the glass, and for a moment, she debated joining her teammates, if only to drown out the restless energy building in her chest. Behind her, Rita’s voice rose above the din, commanding attention with her infectious cheer. Judy felt a pang of longing—not just for the carefree celebration but for something deeper, something she couldn’t put into words.

Then, just as she prepared to give up hope and return to the chaos, her phone buzzed in her hand. The vibration was like a spark, her heart leaping as she fumbled to unlock the screen. A single notification lit up the display, a message that seemed to glow brighter than anything around her. Her lips curved into a faint smile, and with a quick, apologetic glance at the bartender, she tapped the message open, every part of her suddenly lighter, the doubts slipping away like a fog burned off by morning light.

Hey, it’s Valerie.
How’s the celebrating going?

Do you really wanna know, or were you just lookin for a way to start a conversation?

Ouch, way to shoot me down and clip my wings.
I spent half an hour staring at my phone, trying to write something coherent.

And that’s the best you could come up with? :P

You’re not going to make this easy, are ya?

Nope :>
You’ve gotta earn this, rook.

If I remember correctly, just a few hours ago, you invited me to diner.
And breakfast, let’s not forget about that part.

Heat of the moment.
Just won a championship, y’know. I was feelin a bit vulnerable.

Uh-huh. And your number just magically appeared on my forearm?

It’s a mystery :>

Judy stared at her phone, her fingers trembling as they hovered just above the screen. Her lips curved into a slow, involuntary grin, the kind that started deep in her chest and spread outward, warming every inch of her. The moment she’d been hoping for had finally come, and with it, a wave of relief washed over her, cool and revitalizing, like stepping into shade on a scorching day. She hadn’t misjudged things after all.

Her heart fluttered, its rhythm quick and uneven, as if it was trying to keep pace with the flood of emotions coursing through her. Giddy didn’t even begin to cover it. She felt weightless, like a teenager caught in the heady rush of a first crush, where every word and every glance carried the gravity of a secret universe. A faint blush bloomed across her cheeks as she reread Valerie’s messages, savoring each word as though they were sacred, a private treasure meant only for her.

Around her, the club pulsed with energy, yet it faded to a distant hum, the vibrant chaos dimming as if someone had turned the volume down on reality. In that suspended moment, the world seemed to contract, leaving just Judy and the glowing screen in her hand, a quiet pocket of joy amidst the din.

“Hey,” the bartender’s voice sliced gently through her bubble of reverie. “Judging by that smile, I’m guessing you got the text you were waiting for?”

Judy looked up, blinking as if waking from a dream. She couldn’t suppress the broad smile that lit up her face. “Yeah, I did. Sorry if I seemed out of it earlier.”

The bartender chuckled, her expression amused, eyes crinkling at the corners. “No worries. I’ve seen that look before—pure bliss, right?”

Judy giggled softly, a sound bubbling up like effervescent champagne, her earlier tension melting away entirely. Her gaze dropped back to her phone as the screen lit up again - three new messages from Valerie. Her chest tightened, excitement coiling in her stomach as she scanned the words. The grin widened, her thumb brushing lightly over the keyboard before it began to dance, crafting a reply with a speed that mirrored her racing pulse.

We're at the airport, and they've sat us in a lounge in front of an ad with your and Wheeler’s faces on it.
It took us about ten mins to get our hands on some markers.
You still look beautiful with a mustache, by the way.

Heard a lot of bad pick-up lines, but that one has to be in my top five.

Hope to hear the other four soon :>
We’re boarding in few mins, so… to be continued.

Not discouraged yet?

Nope. Not even a little bit.

Have a safe flight, Val.

Judy’s laugh bubbled up unbidden, a soft, breathy sound that surprised even her. It felt like an exhale after holding her breath for too long, a release of tension she hadn’t realized she’d been carrying. Her chest felt lighter, as though the weight of the grueling season, the pressure, the doubts - it had all been lifted in that fleeting moment. The weight she’d carried earlier in the night was gone, replaced by something lighter, something infinitely better.

Sliding her phone back into her pocket, she cast a quick glance at her drink, now abandoned on the bar. With a small shake of her head, she left it behind, her steps carrying her toward the VIP section where her teammates were still in full celebration mode. The noise grew louder as she approached, the bassline of the music thrumming through the floor, mingling with the boisterous laughter and shouts of her team. Rita spotted her first, her sharp eyes lighting up as she waved Judy over, her grin wide and full of mischief.

“Hey, Cap! Finally decided to stop broodin’ an’ join us?” the defender teased, leaning in close to be heard over the cacophony. Her voice was playful, but her tone carried its usual edge of warmth. “We did just win, in case you forgot. We are the champions, ‘member?”

Judy smirked, already loosening the knots in her shoulders. “Just needed a minute to myself,” she replied, her voice steady but softer than she intended.

Rita, never one to let anything slide, slung an arm over her friend’s shoulders, her grin growing impossibly wider. “Somethin’ different ‘bout you,” she said, her tone sly, her gaze narrowing as if she was piecing together a puzzle. “What’s goin’ on?”

Judy hesitated, her pulse skipping for the briefest second before she shrugged, her expression effortlessly casual. “Nothin’,” she said, the word slipping out just a fraction too fast.

Rita’s brow arched, a single, knowing quirk that made Judy roll her eyes. “Uh-huh,” the purple-haired woman drawled, dragging out the syllables like a detective in a bad cop show. “You’re terrible at lyin’, y’know that?”

Judy chuckled, shaking her head as if to brush it off. “Not lyin’. Just not tellin’. Big difference.”

“Oh, I’ll find out anyway,” Rita shot back, her grin taking on a wicked edge. “Y’know I will. Save us both some time and spill now. I promise I’ll go easy.”

“Good luck, doll,” Judy retorted with a smirk, sidestepping Rita’s probing as effortlessly as she’d dodge an opponent on the field.

Rita clapped her hands together in mock defeat, turning to the rest of the team. “Alright, listen up! Her Majesty has finally decided to grace us with her presence. Let’s celebrate properly!”

The room erupted in cheers, arms reaching out to pull Judy into the circle of her teammates. She let herself be swept up in their jubilant chaos, their shouts and laughter a living, breathing thing that wrapped around her like a favorite blanket. She laughed along with them, the tension melting away completely as she let herself be—part of the team, part of the moment. For the first time in weeks, she wasn’t thinking about anything but the here and now. The music thudded in her chest, the joy of her teammates filled the air, and for a little while, everything else faded away.

We just landed.
Ah, you’re probably sleeping now.
Dreamin’ of me?

You wish.

What the fuck are you doin up?
Isn’t it like five am your time?

It is, gettin ready for my morning jog.

You just won a championship.
You can take a day off.

Discipline wins those championships, kid.
Something you’ll have to learn :>

We’re the same age.

In soccer years - you’re just a baby.

I’m a quick learner.

We’ll see about that :>

Sure will.
Btw, I’m exhausted.
And I fuckin love sleeping.
Something I was deprived of during the flight.

Got too hot for you during our shirts exchange?

You wish.
Actually, I wish. Mer made me rewatch the match with her.
I had to take notes, list our mistakes.
Wanted to slit my wrists :)

You should be glad, probie.
Playing with Stout has its pros and cons.
Also “Mer”? Are you allowed to call her that?

Definitely not in front of her.
“Probie”?

That’s how they call rookies in Salem.

You played in Salem?

Don't act like you haven't memorized my profile yet :>

Busted :D
You’re amazing, you know.
As a player, I mean.

Go to sleep.
Sleep deprivation makes you say weird things.

I'm already in bed. Just couldn't resist sending another text.

Have a good night, Val.

Have a good jog, Jude.

As Judy left her apartment that early morning, the city was still cloaked in the quiet tranquility of dawn. She lingered by the elevator doors, realizing she had left her phone on the kitchen counter. However, after a brief debate on whether to go back for it, she resisted the temptation, knowing this jog was a time to clear her mind without any distractions.

The crisp air kissed her skin as she briskly made her way towards Frick Park, her breath forming gentle clouds in the chilly morning air. It was a routine she cherished, a solitary communion amidst the bustling city slowly stirring to life. The streets remained mostly deserted, save for a few early risers walking their dogs or preparing for the day ahead. At the entrance to the park, Judy paused to absorb the familiar sights and sounds - the soft rustling of leaves in the breeze, the distant murmur of traffic, and the chirping of awakening birds. Finding her stride, she ventured onto the winding path that meandered through the park's verdant expanse.

Despite her best efforts to keep her mind fixed on her surroundings, Judy’s thoughts strayed to the woman who had stepped into her life with all the subtlety of a storm. Valerie Bakker. The name hummed in her mind, persistent and melodic, like a song she couldn’t silence. She didn’t even want to. The memory of their intense encounter during the championship match played vividly behind her eyes, every glance, every brush of their bodies sparking anew in her imagination. She had tried to shake it off, to chalk it up to adrenaline and the high stakes of the game. But it wasn’t that simple.

Now, as the initial rush of excitement began to fade, a creeping apprehension took its place. Until yesterday, she had been certain she’d left that reckless, impulsive side of herself behind, buried under the weight of past heartbreaks and lessons learned. After what had happened in Night City, she’d become adept at guarding herself, withdrawing from the inevitable messiness. She had built her life carefully, structured around soccer, training, and a rigid avoidance of emotional entanglements. Distraction was a luxury she could no longer afford, and intimacy was a risk she wasn’t willing to take. Or so she thought.

But Valerie had been different. Judy couldn’t deny the pull, the way the other woman had captured her attention with an ease that felt almost unfair. There was a magnetic quality about her - something unpolished, raw, and undeniably captivating. Something that she found irresistible, something that made her heart race with excitement. It wasn’t just her sharp wit or the way her smirk seemed to promise trouble - it was the way Valerie had looked at her, like she wasn’t afraid of the edges Judy tried so hard to hide. That gaze had left Judy feeling exhilarated and exposed all at once.

She tried to tell herself it was nothing. A passing infatuation. But even now, her heart raced at the thought of Valerie, that mixture of excitement and fear twisting in her chest. Fear, because she knew what it was to open herself to someone, to let them in only to watch them leave. She had paid that price before, and the cost had been almost unbearable. The walls she’d built weren’t just for show - they were for survival. And yet, Valerie had breached them effortlessly. Without even trying, she’d slipped past the defenses Judy had spent years fortifying, leaving her both thrilled and terrified.

The idea of letting her guard down felt as foreign as it was tempting. It was uncharted territory. What would it mean to trust someone again, to take that leap? The very thought sent a ripple of unease through her, but also - quietly, stubbornly - a flicker of hope.

Lost in thought, Judy quickened her pace. The steady rhythm of her footsteps on the trail offered a small comfort, a grounding counterpoint to the whirlwind in her head. She passed familiar landmarks - the old oak that cast its wide shadow across the path, the pond where ducks glided lazily over the surface, and the weather-beaten bench she often stopped at when her thoughts became too loud. Today, she didn’t stop. She already knew the answers.

The possibility of something real, something special, loomed ahead of her like the horizon - distant and uncertain, but worth chasing. For the first time in a long while, she felt a cautious tug toward the unknown. She wasn’t ready to dive headfirst, not yet. But maybe, just maybe, she could take one step forward.

In the sterile glow of the training room, Judy moved like a dancer locked in perfect rhythm with her craft. Her muscles flexed and strained with each deliberate motion, her body a machine fine-tuned through years of discipline. The clang of weights meeting their racks punctuated the air, blending with the steady cadence of her controlled breathing and the muted squeak of rubber soles on polished flooring.

The routine was second nature to her, a symphony of effort she’d composed and refined over countless seasons. The Dolls’ athletic trainer hadn’t bothered her this year - there was no need. Judy knew her body, its limits, and how to push them without breaking. Her teammates, too, had learned to give her space. During these moments, she existed in a world of her own making, a bubble of focus and purpose that she cherished.

Her muscles burned as she powered through her final set, her body screaming for rest even as she pushed through the last rep. Finally, she racked the barbell with precision, the sound echoing satisfyingly in the quiet gym. With a sigh of contentment, she pulled her headphones off, the world around her rushing back in muted waves. She took a deep pull from her water bottle, the cool liquid soothing her parched throat.

Surveying the empty gym, Judy felt a sense of calm settle over her, the kind that only came after pushing herself to the edge. She loved the solitude of evening workouts, the way they left her body spent and her mind quiet. With a final glance around, she slung a towel over her shoulder and made her way to the locker room, ready to shower away the sweat and fatigue before heading home to her waiting bed.

The locker room greeted her with its familiar hum - the faint hiss of water from a distant shower, the low buzz of fluorescent lights. As Judy rounded the corner toward her locker, a flash of color caught her eye. One of the lockers stood slightly ajar, its door plastered with photographs that drew her in like a magnet. She paused, drawn closer by the smiling faces in the snapshots. One photo, in particular, snagged her attention - a memory frozen in time from her first days in Pittsburgh. In the picture, she was seated cross-legged on the floor of Rita’s apartment, trying to assemble a bed frame while Rita busied herself with everything except helping. Judy smirked at the memory, the warmth of it blooming in her chest.

Another photo showed the trio they’d come to call "the Moxes" - Judy, Rita, and Roxanne - grinning triumphantly in their pink Dolls uniforms, fists raised high after their first win with the team. Judy’s finger brushed lightly over the image, her smile widening as she sank onto the bench. The memories washed over her in vivid waves, transporting her back to those early days of chaos after their transfer, when everything had felt new and thrilling.

The soft chime of her phone cut through her reverie, the sound echoing faintly off the tiled walls. Judy blinked, pulled back to the present, and reached for her bag.

Mer invited the whole team for a party at her place.
I’m a bit scared.

I’m pretty sure she has a sex dungeon.
What if she’s gonna make us her slaves.
Save me.

You’re talking as if you wouldn’t actually enjoy it :D

Wanna make some bets?

I’ll bet 100 eddies on collection of whips.

I’ll bet a date on gimp costume.
You’re paying.

I’ll need evidence :D

Do you think I’m some kind of amateur?
You’re talking to professional. Best spy in the whole NUSA.

If you get caught, we don’t know each other.

Even if she waterboards me?

Especially then.

Judy sat on the bench, her back against the cool metal of the lockers, her phone resting lightly in her hands. Her fingers moved across the screen with an absentminded grace, her lips curving into a soft, unmistakable smile. The burn of her earlier workout still lingered in her muscles, but the fatigue had already started to dissolve, replaced by a pleasant warmth that had nothing to do with exercise.

Valerie.

The name alone sent a little spark through her, the same electric thrill she felt every time her phone lit up with a new message. Lately, Valerie had become an almost constant presence in Judy’s life, woven seamlessly into her days and nights. Whether it was the sleepy haze of the morning or the quiet moments before she drifted off to sleep, there was always a text waiting - or one she was eager to send.

They didn’t call. They didn’t need to. Their connection had found a rhythm in the rapid exchange of texts, each one a window into Valerie’s sharp wit, her quirky sense of humor, her unexpected tenderness. Flirty banter was a regular fixture - playful, quick, and often leaving Judy smiling like an idiot. But there were other messages too, ones that hinted at the scars they both carried, the unspoken weight of lives lived on edges too sharp. Neither pushed too hard. Not yet. They danced around the darker parts, cautious but curious, sharing pieces of themselves with an intimacy that felt all the more profound because it was unspoken.

There were so many little things that made Judy fall for Valerie - her keen intelligence, her genuine care, and her unwavering interest in everything Judy had to say. Val always knew how to make her laugh, even when she tried not to. And Judy was helpless to resist. She craved these exchanges, craved Valerie. This relationship was becoming an addiction, a constant source of excitement and curiosity that Judy found irresistible. Each message felt like uncovering another piece of the puzzle, every fragment of Valerie’s personality drawing her in further. It was thrilling and terrifying, this pull she couldn’t quite name. It left her wanting more.

The locker room door creaked open, shattering the stillness. Judy’s head snapped up, her thumb immediately locking her phone and slipping it into her bag. Rita strolled in, a fluffy towel slung loosely around her body, her colorful hair dripping onto her shoulders. Her sharp gaze landed on Judy, and her lips curved into a knowing grin.

“Well, well,” Rita drawled, sauntering over to her locker, conveniently right next to Judy’s. “What’s got you all dreamy-eyed, Cap? You’ve been grinnin’ at that phone like you’ve won the lottery. Been chattin’ with some hottie?”

Judy forced her expression into something more neutral, though the effort was futile. “Just catching up on some messages,” she said, shrugging as casually as she could manage. “Abuela wanted to know about my flight. She made a dumb joke.”

Rita gave her an unimpressed look, crossing her arms as she leaned against the open locker. “Sure, sure. Because Ainara’s known for her killer sense of humor,” she teased, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Come on, Jude. I know that look. I know you. You can’t hide this from me… Lately that fuckin’ sound of new text is workin’ on you like Pavlov’s experiment. You’ve been practically glowin’ these last two weeks, so who’s the lucky girl?”

“Maybe I just really love leg day,” Judy quipped, smirking as she reached for her water bottle.

Rita narrowed her eyes, her grin turning wicked. “Uh-huh. And maybe I’ll just take a little peek to find out for myself.”

Before Judy could react, Rita darted forward, faster than anyone had a right to be after a grueling workout, snatching Judy’s phone from her bag. Judy lunged after her, heart racing, but Rita had already flipped the screen up, her smirk widening as she saw the glowing notification.

“Locked,” Rita said, laughing as she held the phone just out of reach. “Smart. But—oh, what’s this? ‘V’ sent you a message.” Her brow arched as she turned the screen toward herself, her grin widening like a cat that caught the canary. “V, huh? Is this the mysterious someone who’s been turning you into a lovesick little puppy?”

Judy’s cheeks flushed a deep crimson. “Give it back, Reet,” she said, her voice firm but betrayed by the laughter bubbling just beneath the surface.

Rita’s smirk turned downright devious as she dangled the phone like bait. “Oh, I will. But not until you spill the beans. Come on, Cap. Who’s ‘V’? What’s the story? I want details.”

Judy hesitated, torn between annoyance and amusement. Her lips twitched as if fighting a grin. “It’s just… someone I’ve been talking to. That’s all.”

Rita’s eyes narrowed with exaggerated suspicion. “You’re using some kind of code name for your dirty little secret, Jude?”

“Maybe.” Judy finally managed to snatch her phone back, clutching it protectively. She glanced at the screen, her pulse quickening as she read the message waiting for her. Rita watched her closely, curiosity burning in her eyes.

Send a rescue party if you don’t hear from me tomorrow.

Before Rita could unleash another round of interrogation, the locker room door creaked open, and Regina strode in, her face aglow with uncontainable excitement. Her arrival cut through the moment like a bolt of lightning, drawing both Judy and Rita’s attention instantly, their earlier conversation momentarily forgotten. The coach beamed at them, barely containing her joy, she was practically bouncing on her heels.

“Girls!” Regina called, her voice ringing with delight. “I’m so glad I caught you before you took off. I’ve got incredible news! I’ve just been named assistant coach for the World Cup! I’ll be working alongside Rogue herself. This is everything I’ve dreamed of!”

Judy’s face broke into a wide grin. “Reggie, that’s amazing!” she exclaimed, stepping forward to pull Regina into a tight hug. “Congratulations—you deserve it!”

“Hell yeah, Reggie!” Rita chimed in, throwing her arms around both women. “This is huge! Just don’t forget to tell Rogue how awesome we are, yeah?”

“Oh, believe me, I’ll have plenty to say about you two,” Regina laughed, pulling back to beam at them. “And don’t worry, I’m pretty sure you two will make the roster. The official list is out in two weeks, but if I hear anything early, you’ll be the first to know.”

For the moment, even Rita’s playful taunts faded into the background. She shot Judy a knowing look, her earlier teasing still simmering beneath her grin, but she let it slide - for now. Judy allowed herself a breath of relief. There’d be time for questions later, but for now, this moment belonged to Regina.

Heard an interesting rumor yesterday.

Is Rachel going to Salem?
Is Stout staying for another season?

Why are you not responding?
Don’t be overdramatic with the suspense.

Val, for fuck’s sake.

Took a shower in the meantime.
Sorry.
But not really - you’re cute when you’re mad :>

Tell me!

The rumor is about you :>

What?

I’ve been informed that you and Maiko were a thing.
Can't really picture it, so I wanted to hear it from you.

Ugh…

Ugh as in “I’ve heard this untrue rumor so many times it makes me sick”
Or ugh as in “I was in relationship with Maiko Buttlicker Maeda”??

The latter, unfortunately.

Whaaaat
Wow. Just wow.
Wasn’t expecting that.

I was young and stupid.
And lonely.
Let’s call it an eye-opening experience.
Unfortunately, figured her out a bit too late.

Ugh, indeed.
How long were you together?

Too long.

Do you want me to break her nose during next training?

Nah. The past is the past.
I’d rather focus on the future :>

Oh. I’m blushing.

Who said it has anything to do with you?

Just readin’ between the lines, babe.
PS. I owe you eddies. Found an extensive collection of whips.

Judy sat by the window of the bus, her forehead resting lightly against the cool glass as her fingers traced absent patterns in the condensation. The familiar sights of Salem passed by in a blur of muted colors, the autumn evening casting long shadows over the town she used to call home. The hum of the engine and the low murmur of voices around her faded into the background, her thoughts pulling her inward.

When the bus rounded a corner, her old high school came into view, unchanged despite the years. Its red-brick facade stood sturdy against time, the wide steps leading up to the double doors as imposing as ever. A tide of memories washed over her. She could still feel the nervous flutter of her first day, transferring in the middle of the semester, unsure if she would fit in. She remembered the long, punishing hours on the soccer field, the sting of cold air as she pushed herself through drill after drill, and the rebellious thrill of sneaking behind the locker rooms for her first cigarette.

Back then, she hadn’t been popular. Friends were few and found only among her teammates. The other kids had sneered at her scuffed shoes and threadbare clothes, whispering behind her back about her being poor. That changed after she punched a bully hard enough to break his nose, earning herself the nickname - Punchin’ Jude. She smirked at the memory, though in hindsight, she suspected the boy might have been trying to flirt with her in some clumsy, juvenile way. Too bad for him - she already knew who she was by then. Boys’ advances weren’t just unwelcome, they turned her stomach.

Most people at school didn’t know she was gay. Her first girlfriend, Jenni, had insisted on keeping their relationship secret. Judy had hated it - hated hiding, hated pretending - but she’d gone along with it, infatuation clouding her better judgment. They’d stolen kisses behind the rafters, slipped into empty theater halls, and once nearly got caught in the locker room. At the time, it felt thrilling, even romantic, but looking back, Judy could only see the cracks.

That first serious relationship - if you could call it that - ended in humiliation. At a party celebrating their championship win, Judy, a little tipsy and full of bravado, had tried to kiss Jenni in front of everyone. Jenni shoved her away, her voice ringing out above the music as she denied being a lesbian and claimed she wanted nothing to do with Judy. The next day, though, she acted like nothing had happened, meeting Judy in their usual spot behind the lockers. When Judy tried to confront her about it, Jenni dismissed her, calling her overdramatic.

Judy cringed now at the thought of how long she’d stayed in that toxic relationship. Three more months of stolen moments and empty promises until Jenni finally ended it, declaring she’d fallen for the quarterback - a rich prick, golden-boy cliché. Judy’s heart had been shattered, and in that wreckage, she built walls. After that, she stopped chasing friendships, stopped letting anyone in. She became a lone wolf, pouring all her energy into soccer and training, into something she could control.

At least until she moved back to Night City, on her first senior contract. Until she met Rita, Roxie, Anna and Maiko.

The bus jolted slightly, pulling her out of her reverie. They were passing a coffee shop on the corner, its windows glowing warmly in the dimming light. She smiled faintly. That had been her refuge - a place where she could retreat from the chaos of high school. She could still smell the sharp, comforting aroma of fresh coffee, hear the soft strains of indie music that always played in the background. The barista had known her by name, always having her order ready before she even asked. She’d spent hours there, scribbling strategies in her notebook or just watching the world outside.

But as the bus rumbled into her old neighborhood, her smile faltered. The streets that had once buzzed with life now felt hollow. The buildings were worn, their facades cracked and windows boarded up, the vibrancy of the past eroded by time and neglect. Judy’s chest tightened as she looked out at the skeletal remains of what had once been home.

She remembered how it used to be - children playing on the sidewalks, neighbors chatting on stoops, the smells of home-cooked meals wafting from open windows. Laughter and voices used to fill the air, a constant hum of life. Now, silence hung heavy over the crumbling streets, broken only by the occasional rustle of wind. The warmth was gone, replaced by a sense of abandonment, a ghostly reminder of how quickly things could decay. Judy’s fingers stilled against the glass as she stared at the scene. It wasn’t just the neighborhood that had changed - she had too.

Lost in her thoughts, Judy almost missed her stop. She stood up, pulling the cord to signal the driver. As she made her way to the front of the bus, she took one last look at the passing scenery. Each landmark was a piece of her past, a chapter in the story of her life. Stepping off the bus, she felt a mix of nostalgia and resolve. The past was behind her, but it had shaped who she was today. The faded memories and decaying landmarks were reminders of where she had come from and the journey she had taken to get to this point. With a deep breath, she squared her shoulders and began walking towards her grandparents’ house.

The neighborhood had an old-world charm, a stark contrast to the bustling city she now called home. As she approached the building, a wave of pride washed over her. It was a standard single-story home with a white picket fence and neatly mown grass, the quintessential picture of suburban comfort. She had bought this house for her grandparents when she received her first big payout during her first season with the Dolls. It had been a dream come true for her, a way to give back to the people who had given her so much.

The house stood out in the neighborhood, not because it was grand or ostentatious, but because it was meticulously cared for. The white paint gleamed in the fading light, the flower beds were bursting with color, and the lawn was perfectly trimmed. It was a testament to the love and care her grandparents put into their home.

Judy walked up the cobblestone path, her footsteps echoing softly. She reached into her back pocket and pulled out her phone, her heart skipping a beat as she saw a new message from Valerie. She smiled to herself, feeling a warmth spread through her chest as she read the message. She chuckled softly, her fingers moving quickly to respond.

I had the weirdest dream.

Oh, do tell.

We were playing soccer, but instead of a ball, we were using a giant donut.
And every time we scored, we got to eat a piece of it.

What happened when the donut was gone?

We won the game, of course!
But then you turned into a donut.
I woke up cravin donuts so bad.

Judy stepped into the warm embrace of her grandparents' home, the familiar scents of fresh-baked cookies and lavender wrapping around her like a comforting blanket. The soft clatter of dishes from the kitchen greeted her as she closed the door behind her.

“Judy, ¿eres tú?" Ainara's voice called out, full of warmth and affection.

"Sí, abuela!" Judy replied, a smile spreading across her face.

The silver-haired woman emerged from the kitchen, wiping her hands on a floral apron. Her face lit up when she saw her granddaughter, and she hurried over to give Judy a tight hug. "Oh, ranita, it's so good to see you! You’re just in time to help me with dinner."

In the living room, her granddad, Felipe, sat on the couch with a newspaper spread open, his reading glasses perched on his nose at a comically exaggerated angle. He looked up, a broad smile breaking across his face. "Mi niña, come give your old abuelo a hug."

Judy walked over, laughing as she took in his ridiculous glasses. "Abuelo, those glasses look like they belong to a cartoon character." She bent down to hug him, feeling the strength in his arms despite his age.

Felipe chuckled, "These old eyes aren't what they used to be. But they still see enough to know my granddaughter is looking happier than I've seen her in a long time. Our little champion! We’re so proud of you."

Judy felt a blush creep up her cheeks as she straightened up. "Thanks grandpa."

"Come on, ranita," Ainara called from the kitchen. "There are vegetables to chop and a stew to stir."

Judy followed her grandmother into the kitchen, the aroma of simmering spices and fresh ingredients filling the air. She washed her hands at the sink and then glanced at her phone, which buzzed with another message from Valerie.

I had to. I just bought two donuts - one with pink and one with green frosting.
I’m calling this the Jude’s special.

Judy couldn’t help but grin at the message and the photo attached, her heart fluttering. Ainara, who was chopping onions at the counter, noticed the change in her granddaughter's expression.

"Who is it, Judy?" she asked, her eyes twinkling with curiosity.

Judy quickly pocketed her phone, trying to play it cool. "Oh, it's just Rita, abuela. You know how she loves to joke around."

The silver-haired woman raised an eyebrow, clearly not convinced, but didn’t say a thing.  

Judy settled into the old couch in her grandparents' living room, its sagging cushions and stubborn springs a bittersweet reminder of her childhood. The fabric, worn smooth in places, felt familiar against her skin, but the sharp jab of a wayward spring was an unwelcome reminder that her abuela had refused to part with it. Judy had bought the house for them, but furniture was another battle entirely. Ainara had insisted, with her usual unyielding smile, that their old things were still perfectly fine.

Now, Judy winced as she shifted her weight, trying in vain to find a position that didn’t promise a stiff back by morning. The couch was worlds apart from her big, plush bed back home, where the mattress seemed to embrace her every curve. She could already feel the ache that would settle into her muscles tomorrow.

She pulled the old quilt Ainara had made over her, its patchwork squares a kaleidoscope of colors and textures. Some of the fabric pieces were decades old, scraps of her abuela’s dresses and leftover bits from old family projects. Judy ran her fingers over a corner with fraying stitching, smiling faintly at the thought of Ainara grumbling about "one more thing to fix." The quilt smelled faintly of lavender and sunshine, a scent so uniquely tied to her grandparents’ home that it made her heart ache with nostalgia.

The house was quiet now, save for the rhythmic ticking of the hallway clock and the occasional whisper of wind brushing against the windows. It was the kind of silence that felt alive, not empty - a comforting backdrop that seemed to settle into her bones.

Judy leaned back, closing her eyes for a moment before the uneven cushion beneath her forced another adjustment. With a sigh, she reached for her phone, the screen casting a pale glow in the dark room. Her thumb hovered for a moment before instinct guided her to a familiar thread.

The messages there were a blend of banter and tenderness, a lifeline she often found herself clutching to when the quiet became too loud. The sight of Valerie’s name, paired with her most recent reply, made Judy’s lips curl into a soft smile. For a moment, the ache in her back, the protesting couch, and even the pull of sleep faded into the background.

Ready for the night?

I’m already missing my comfy bed.

Sleep tight, don’t let the bedbugs bite.
Unless they’re offering a back massage :D

I’d kill for a massage right now.

I have very skilled fingers, y’know :>
And you’re not that far.
How about a little detour before heading back to Pittsburgh?

Judy bit her lip as she re-read the last message. The thought of visiting Valerie had crossed her mind more than once. She was already on the West Coast, not that far away from Night City. It would be easy to change her travel plans and rebook her flight to Pittsburgh. Now the invitation was on the table, and it was tempting.

I’ll think about it :>

Come on, don’t make me beg.

I mean… maybe begging is a way to convince me.

What happened next took Judy by complete surprise. Her phone buzzed with a new message notification, and as she opened it, her breath hitched in her throat. Valerie had sent a photo.

The image was intimate in a way that made Judy's pulse spike. The soft, amber glow of low light bathed Valerie’s naked body, throwing her curves into sharp relief, while the shadows curled around her like something alive, hiding and revealing at once. The bed was a tangled mess around her, the covers cast aside as though discarded after a restless night. Valerie's right hand rested on her stomach, her fingertips just disappearing into the darkness that consumed the lower half of her body. Only part of her face was visible – the rest half-hidden in the dim light. A smirk danced at the corner of her lips, the expression both knowing and teasing.

Judy’s heart pounded, her body reacting almost instantly to the image. The excitement that surged through her felt like an electric jolt, every nerve alight with anticipation. She could almost feel the warmth radiating from Valerie’s skin, the softness that invited her touch.

Her thoughts started to wander, and suddenly she was imagining the touch of her own lips against Valerie’s body - mapping every inch of her skin, tracing the scars with soft, reverent kisses. She could see it in her mind - her lips finding their way to Valerie’s chest, to those rose-tipped breasts, teasing, testing, her fingers gently pinching and pulling until Valerie’s breath caught, her body trembling beneath her. The thought sent a rush of heat through Judy, her fingers tightening around the phone as her imagination ran wild, fueled by the vision of Valerie laid bare before her.

NC has amazing views, y’know.
You can enjoy them up close.

Tease.
Evil tease.

That’s me begging, babe.

Judy woke up feeling exhausted and sore, even before her alarm had the chance to go off. The old couch had done a number on her back, its lumpy cushions offering little support. She stretched, wincing at the persistent ache in her muscles, a stark contrast to the luxurious bed she was used to.

However, the discomfort wasn’t solely due to the uncomfortable couch. Throughout the night, she had barely slept. Every couple of hours, she found herself reaching for her phone, unable to resist looking once again at the photo Valerie had sent. Each time, she discovered new details about the blue-haired woman’s body that made her heart race anew. She noticed a long scar running along Valerie’s ribcage. Other one, smaller, was visible on her abdomen, right next to the naval. There was also a tattoo that adorned her shoulder, its intricate design half-hidden in the shadows.

She spent way too much time studying the toned muscles of Valerie’s arms and stomach, her curiosity piqued by the shadows that concealed the most intimate parts. The way the woman smirked in the photo, a blend of mischief and invitation, was intoxicating. Judy felt a deep longing, an almost painful ache, to touch and explore every part of the woman who had captivated her so completely.

As the early morning light filtered through the curtains, Judy realized the extent of her situation. She was in big trouble, and she knew it. The desire for Valerie was no longer a distant fantasy but an insistent, all-consuming need. She closed her eyes, trying to banish the image from her mind, but it was no use. That blue-haired woman had taken root in her thoughts, and there was no escaping it.

With a sigh, Judy forced herself to sit up, swinging her legs over the edge of the couch. She rubbed her eyes and ran a hand through her hair, trying to shake off the remnants of sleep and desire. Today, she needed to focus on something, anything, to prevent herself from daydreaming the whole time. She decided to visit her old club’s facilities, hoping to catch the Juniors training.

After a quick, bracingly cold shower, Judy found herself walking down the familiar streets of Salem, savoring a take-out latte. The morning air was crisp, and as she sipped her coffee, she felt a tiny bit more grounded. Yet, in the back of her mind, Valerie’s image lingered, an insistent presence she couldn't shake. The battle with her thoughts was a losing one, and Valerie had decided to torture her a bit more this morning.

Rest well, beautiful?

You’re evil, you know that?

Oh, did my picture keep you awake? :>

Fuck you, Val :)

That’s the idea.

Judy groaned in frustration, her fingers trembling slightly as she tossed the empty coffee cup into a nearby bin. She found a spot on the bleachers, settling down to watch a group of young girls kicking a ball and weaving through cones. The crisp morning air filled her lungs, and she leaned back, her mind momentarily soothed by the simple joy of observing the girls’ practice. A distraction, that’s what she needed. Despite her inner turmoil, there was a comforting familiarity in the rhythm of the drills, a reminder of her own journey and the countless hours she had spent on this field.

A tall, blonde woman with a neat ponytail, clad in the team's colors with a whistle around her neck, commanded the group with confident authority. There was something achingly familiar about her. Suddenly, she blew the whistle, her voice ringing clear across the field. "Alright, ladies, two more laps around the field and then we're done for the morning!"

The blonde caught sight of the unexpected visitor sitting on the bleachers. Their eyes met, and recognition flashed in the coach's gaze, followed by a hesitant smile. As Judy watched her approach, a memory surfaced. She recalled her first girlfriend, Jenni, who had broken her heart long time ago. Seeing her here, in this different context, shaping the next generation of athletes after so many years, was surreal.

As Jenni drew closer, Judy's thoughts swirled with a mix of nostalgia and unresolved emotions. This field had witnessed the start of their relationship, the stolen kisses, the shared dreams, and ultimately, the painful breakup. And now, it seemed, it would witness something else entirely - a reunion of sorts, marked by time and change.

"Judy," Jenni greeted softly, her voice carrying a mixture of surprise and warmth. "I didn't expect to see you here."

"Hey, Jenni," she replied, a faint smile tugging at her lips. "I didn't expect to be here either."

Jenni's eyes softened as she looked at her former girlfriend. "It's been a long time."

"Yeah, it has," Judy said, her voice tinged with the weight of the years that had passed. "You've done well for yourself."

Jenni glanced back at the field where the girls were running their laps. "It's a rewarding job. My oldest girl, Joss, made the U-8 team last year, so I’m looking after both the academy and the U-8. You know how kids are, always secretive and keeping everything to themselves. Coaching gives me a way to stay close to her."

Judy couldn't help but smile at the irony of it all.

"But enough about me and my mundane job," Jenni continued, her eyes twinkling with mischief. "I've got nothing on you. You're a champion now. A dream come true, right?"

"Yeah," Judy replied, her gaze drifting to the group on the pitch. She spotted a petite blonde who bore a striking resemblance to the woman standing in front of her. "Want me to say hi to the girls?"

"Would you?" Jenni's face lit up with a broad grin. "That would mean the world to them! You know, some of the troublemakers have already dyed their hair pink and green after your last match. You're their hero."

Judy laughed, feeling a warmth spread through her at the thought of inspiring the next generation. "I'd love to. Let's make their day."

The next evening, Judy found herself walking back to her grandparents' house after an unexpected meeting with Jenni. The sunset bathed the streets of Salem in a warm, golden light, casting long shadows that danced with her footsteps. The encounter with her ex-girlfriend had been both strange and cathartic. Over steaming lattes, Jenni had apologized for the way things had ended between them, acknowledging the pain she had caused years ago. Judy had accepted the apology, finding a surprising sense of closure in the conversation.

As she walked, Judy sent a few messages to Valerie, sharing the surreal experience.

I’ve had the weirdest day.
Just had coffee with my ex, the one I’ve mentioned yesterday.
She apologized.
I didn’t know I needed that but fuck yes.

Judy watched the screen, waiting for Val's response. The familiar three dots appeared, signaling that the other woman was typing, but they would disappear without any message coming through. It happened several times, and with each instance, Judy’s curiosity and concern grew.

Was she jealous? Or simply busy? Did something happen?

The streetlights flickered on as she neared her grandparents' house, casting a soft glow over the white picket fence. She hesitated on the porch, glancing down at her phone one last time. The screen remained stubbornly blank. The anticipation gnawed at her, and a knot of unease tightened in her chest. Sighing, she pocketed her phone and opened the door, stepping into the warmth of her grandparents' home. Her mind, however, was still preoccupied with Valerie’s silence. Was she overthinking things? Did she really need to worry?

As she hung her jacket and kicked off her shoes, Ainara's voice called from the kitchen. "Judy, querida, dinner's almost ready. Come and help me set the table."

"Coming, abuela," she replied, forcing a smile as she headed towards the kitchen. She joined her grandmother, taking plates and silverware from the cabinet, her movements automatic.

Later, as she settled onto the couch for the night, she pulled out her phone once more. The screen was dark, no new messages. She sighed, typing one last message before setting her phone on the table beside her.

Hope everything's okay on your end.
Talk tomorrow?

Just as she felt herself drifting, the gentle pull of sleep tugging at her eyelids, a sudden chime from her phone sliced through the quiet. Startled, she jolted upright, her heart racing with a mix of hope and anxiety. She reached for the device, blinking rapidly against the harsh glow of the screen that momentarily blinded her. Through squinting eyes, she saw Valerie’s name flash across the screen, causing her pulse to quicken even more. With a swift motion, Judy opened the message, her heart pounding in her ears.

This graet, jude.

Are you drunk or having a stroke?

Def the first.
Fuck. Sorry.

A tight knot of unease twisted within her chest, its grip unyielding. The earlier anxiety surged back, enveloping her in a swirl of concern for Valerie’s well-being. Rising from the couch, Judy stepped outside, settling onto the porch steps as the cool night air washed over her. She felt an undeniable pull to reach out - something was wrong, and she sensed it.

Her fingers lingered hesitantly above the icon on her screen, wavering between hesitation and resolve. They had never called each other before, this felt like the moment that would change everything, a tipping point that could redefine something between them. Judy took a deep breath, steeling herself as she pressed the video call button. It rang once, twice, thrice - each ring amplifying the tension coiling in her stomach. Just as she felt the urge to hang up, the fourth ring was answered, and she heard Valerie’s voice, slightly slurred but unmistakably warm.

“Hey… Judy?” Valerie’s tone was thick with a mix of surprise and something else - perhaps vulnerability.

“Val,” Judy said, her heart racing. “Are you okay? I got your messages, and… you got me worried. What’s happening?”

There was a pause on the other end, a fleeting silence that spoke volumes. “Yeah, I’m fine… jus’ a bit drunk. Been one of those nights,” Valerie replied, her voice softening. “Didn’t want you to see me that way.”

Judy tried to figure out what she was seeing on the video. The darkness enveloped everything, but she could just make out Valerie's silhouette. She was seated on the ground, her back resting against a bike, its frame barely visible against the night. The weariness etched across her features spoke volumes, and Judy’s heart tightened as she noticed the glimmer of blood streaking across Valerie’s cheek and the collar of her shirt. The sight filled Judy with a deep, unsettling concern, urging her to reach out, to bridge the distance between them.

“Where the fuck are you?” Judy demanded, her voice sharp with worry.

“In the heart of the Badlands, baby,” Valerie replied, a hint of nonchalance in her tone. “I needed to clear my head, so I grabbed a bottle, hopped on my bike, and escaped the city.”

“What the fuck, Val?” Judy exclaimed, her heart racing with alarm. “It’s dangerous out there! The Wraiths could ambush you at any moment - your kidney could end up on the black market by morning. Get the fuck out of there. Now!”

“But ’m safe,” Valerie shot back, her words accompanied by a smile that never reached her weary eyes. “I’m under protection… and I’m just a stone’s throw from the Sunset Motel. Seriously, don’t worry.”

“Don’t you dare tell me not to worry,” Judy burst out, her frustration boiling over. “And don’t pretend you’re fuckin’ fine. I can see the scratch on your cheek and the blood on your shirt. What happened?”

For a fleeting moment, Valerie’s gaze shifted to the right, a subtle movement that sent a wave of unease crashing over Judy. Was there someone lurking nearby? Was she in danger? Was she truly safe out there in the shadows? The questions swirled in her mind, each more troubling than the last.

“Are you out there all alone?” Judy pressed, her voice steady despite the rising tide of concern. “Is someone there?”

“Are we ever truly alone?” Valerie responded cryptically.

“What do you mean?”

“It’s alright, Jude. I’m honky-fuckin-dory,” she insisted, though the bravado felt hollow.

“Don’t ‘Jude’ me. Quit dodging the fuckin’ issue,” Judy retorted, frustration simmering just beneath the surface.

“Honestly, it means a lot that you care, it really does. No one…” her voice trailed off, the unspoken weight of her words hanging in the air. “But there’s no need for you to worry. I’m fine. I’ll wrap this up soon and head back to the motel to sleep it off.”

“Of course I fuckin’ care,” Judy shot back. “So, are you going to tell me what’s really going on?”

“It’s… um… long and complicated story…”

“I have time,” Judy replied immediately, her determination hardening. She needed to understand, to uncover the truth behind Val’s enigmatic state.

Valerie let out a heavy sigh, locking eyes with Judy. It was clear she was wrestling with her thoughts, weighing the decision to reveal what had transpired that day. With a deliberate motion, she retrieved a cigarette from the pack resting on the ground, lighting it as if it might offer her some comfort in the gathering darkness.

“Didn’t know you smoked,” Judy remarked, disbelief mingling with worry as she watched Valerie bring the cigarette to her lips, noticing blood on her knuckles.

“Not a smoker. It just helps with silencin’ the annoying voice in my head for a moment,” Valerie replied, her eyes narrowing slightly as she took a drag. “And I need it to shut up, so I can gather my thoughts if you want to hear this story.”

“I’m all ears,” Judy said, shifting her position and leaning against the wall of her grandparents’ porch, attempting to find some comfort in the creaking wood beneath her.

“As I’ve told you before, I was born and raised in Heywood… and by Heywood,” she began, her tone growing serious. Judy nodded, recognizing the familiar path of the other woman’s past. She had heard fragments of this story before. “Always goin’ from one place to the next, sometimes livin’ in whatever abandoned building was available, or in an alley, behind a dumpster. Wasn’t easy, being out on those streets alone, just tryin’ to survive. And I was a gonk, so in search for safety, I got mixed up with the wrong crowd, ran with the gangoons… and I was still jus’ a teenager when I first pulled the trigger.”

Valerie paused, allowing the weight of her words to hang in the air, giving Judy a moment to absorb the revelation. The woman she was falling for was not only fierce but had a past stained with violence. Yet, Judy had anticipated this reality the first time she learned about Valerie’s upbringing on the gritty streets of Heywood. She understood how survival in the unforgiving landscape of Night City’s slums often necessitated desperate choices. It wasn’t a shock to learn that Valerie had taken a life. Rather, it deepened Judy’s understanding of her resilience.

“Hey, where we come from, it’s kill or be killed,” Judy said softly, her voice a gentle reassurance meant to anchor Valerie in the storm of her memories. “I understand.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right…” Valerie conceded, her gaze drifting away as if searching for solace in the darkness. “I was Valentinos’ delivery girl for a while, constantly balancin’ on the edge of danger. Being underage meant I could evade jail time if caught, so they exploited me for all sorts of grim shit. Then, by some twist of fate, I met someone who saved my life. She took me away from Heywood, offered me help, roof under my head, real job and guidance. But it came with a price. That experience… the years I spent far from Night City, that changed me. But then… it all fell apart, all the hell let loose at once - she betrayed me and vanished. I returned here lookin’ for her.”

“For revenge?” Judy probed, curiosity tinged with worry.

“No, for answers,” Valerie sighed, the weight of her past heavy in her voice. “I never truly understood why she left… not fully.”

“Were you two…?” Judy hesitated, a pang of jealousy mixed with guilt pricking at her. She yearned to know more but feared crossing a line.

“No, we were more like sisters,” Val shot back, recognizing the unspoken implications behind Judy’s question. “At least, I thought we were… but you're not supposed to abandon your family like that, especially not in such a shitty situation.”

“What was her name?” Judy asked gently, sensing Valerie’s reluctance to delve too deep, yet driven by an innate desire to understand.

“So Mi,” she whispered after a brief pause, reaching for another cigarette and lighting it. In the dim glow, Judy caught sight of a solitary tear tracing its path down the blue-haired woman’s cheek, a proof of the pain still haunting her.

“What does this have to do with your current state - sitting on the ground in the middle of nowhere, drinking and smoking, blood staining your shirt and face?”

“She resurfaced,” Valerie murmured, her voice barely above a whisper as she wiped away her tears with the frayed sleeve of her shirt. “After three long years, she came back into my life. I found a guy who might know where she was, I rushed, demanding answers like a desperate fool. Gonk fuckin’ move, I know. Things escalated… I just needed to find out, Jude. ’m so sorry.”

“Why are you apologizing?”

“Because I’m a mess. I almost killed him… two more blows to the head and he would be dead. That’s why I ran.”

Judy's eyes widened in astonishment as the layers of Valerie's character unfurled before her. Until now, she had only glimpsed the playful, flirtatious woman who often lit up a room with her charm. Yet, beneath that vibrant exterior lay a shadowy past, one Judy had only begun to piece together through fleeting glimpses. This revelation, however, was a deeper dive into Valerie's tumultuous history than she had ever expected to encounter.

Though the narrative painted Valerie as someone who had danced dangerously close to the edge, Judy felt no fear. Instead, she was drawn in, compelled by an instinctive understanding that beneath the surface of danger was a survivor - a fighter navigating a world rife with chaos. And it might not be her fault to find herself in that situation.

“But you didn’t.”

“Jude, there’s no need to sugarcoat it. I know ’m a monster,” Valerie murmured, her voice trembling slightly after a thoughtful pause. “I’d understand if you wanted nothing to do wi—”

“You’re not a monster,” Judy interjected firmly. “You’re just trying to survive in this fucked up world. I may never fully grasp what you’ve faced, but I’m here for you if you need someone to listen. That’s the least I can offer.”

Valerie’s gaze drifted back to the screen, her expression softening into a faint smile, one that carried the weight of gratitude and vulnerability. “You’re givin’ me so much more than that,” she replied, her voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t deserve you.”

“Nah, you deserve the world,” Judy replied softly, her heart aching with a longing to be by Valerie’s side, to wrap her in warmth and offer solace for her pain. Yet, here she was, perched on her grandparents’ porch, a vast expanse of over 900 miles stretching between them. In that moment, she made her decision. “Do you still want me to come visit? Or are you plannin’ to look for S—”

“I’d love for you to come,” Valerie interjected, her voice bright and unwavering, a grin spreading across her face like dawn breaking after a long night. “After today’s fiasco, I won’t chase after her anymore. If she’s truly back and wants to reach out, she’ll find a way. If not, I’ll let it go. Like you said, the past is the past, and I’d rather focus on the future.”

“Are you ready to head back and sleep it off?”

“Yeah, I think I am. Thank you, Judy.”

“For what?” Judy inquired, her brow furrowing with curiosity. “I didn’t do anythin’.”

“For listenin’ to my rambling. For helpin’ me keep my head straight. You’re amazing, Jude, I’m so…” Valerie began, her tone shifting to something more profound, a hint of a confession bubbling beneath the surface. But she hesitated, choosing instead to offer a weak smile. “I just wanted to say thank you.”

“You’ll find a way to repay me on Saturday,” Judy said, a teasing lilt to her voice.

“I already have a couple of ideas in mind,” Val replied, her eyes glinting with mischief, the shadows of the past slowly fading into the promise of tomorrow.

Chapter Text

Chapter III | Love on the Brain
I'm fist fighting with fire just to get close to you.

Judy stood at the entrance of Night City's bustling airport, the acrid scent of oil and smog curling into her lungs - a bitter, familiar burn that clawed at her throat. The air was heavier than she remembered, thick with the city’s usual blend of exhaust fumes and garbage stink. It settled on her skin like a second layer, sticky and suffocating. She had sworn she'd never come back to this chaotic metropolis, this steel-and-chrome labyrinth that swallowed people whole. Yet here she was, standing in the shadow of flickering holoscreens and blinking ads, waiting. Waiting for Valerie.

Doubt slithered in, cold and persistent. Was this a mistake? Judy’s arms folded tightly across her chest, more for comfort than warmth. The unease wasn’t just about the city or the ghosts it conjured. No, it was about Valerie - her past, the jagged edges Judy had glimpsed lately. Despite the initial understanding and acceptance, Val's revelations had unsettled Judy. The snippets of a violent, turbulent history haunted her thoughts. What if there were darker, more sinister secrets lurking just beneath the surface? The idea gnawed at her, casting a shadow over her anticipation.

Yet, beneath the coiling anxiety, there was something stronger. A pull. Valerie had burrowed into her mind these past few weeks - uninvited and impossible to shake. That sharp wit, the rare softness that flickered through her rough edges, the fleeting vulnerability she tried to hide. Judy couldn’t forget it, couldn’t escape her. That fragile connection, brittle yet burning, had been enough to drag her back to this suffocating city.

She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, dragging in another breath that stung going down. The crowds ebbed and flowed around her in a blur of muted colors, pollution and artificial light, their faces indistinct, as if the city itself blurred them into irrelevance. Judy scanned the crush of bodies and idling cars, wondering if Valerie would spot her first - or if she would even recognize Judy at all. Would it be awkward, this meeting they’d both let stretch out for too long? Or would it ignite like dry tinder, exactly how she pictured it on restless nights?

"Jude!" a loud, rough and unmistakable voice sliced the noise. “Over here!”

Her head snapped toward it. And just like that, every ounce of doubt dissolved. Valerie was leaning halfway out of the window of a sleek silver Quadra, one arm waving high above her head, the other gripping the steering wheel. The machine purred beneath her, polished chrome catching the glow of distant lights. She looked impossibly alive, blue hair wild and glinting under the city haze, grinning like she had just won something.

Judy’s lips curled into a grin before she even realized it. She started weaving through the dense crowd of travelers, her gaze locked on the silhouette of the car parked nearby.

"C’mon, get in!" Valerie called, reaching over to slam the passenger door open. It hissed upward with a sleek hydraulic sigh, a mechanical invitation Judy didn’t think twice about. Sliding into the leather seat, Judy let the door close behind her with a solid thunk, sealing them in. The cabin smelled faintly of ozone and old cigarette smoke.

Valerie’s hands tightened on the wheel as she pulled from the curb, neon lights washing over her face in fractured colors. That wicked grin still plastered across her face. "Mornin’, welcome to Night City,” she said, her voice was warm, teasing, threaded with something deeper. "Ready for an adventure?"

Judy laughed, breathless and real, the sound tangling with the low growl of the engine. The city blurred around them, a smear of lights and shadows, but Valerie was sharp and steady beside her.

"With you?" Judy leaned back, feeling the tension start to bleed out of her. "Always."

After half an hour of playful banter and Judy’s relentless attempts to pry their plans from Valerie, the Quadra finally purred into the shadowed embrace of a Megabuilding’s garage. The car’s engine rumbled low before falling into silence, leaving only the distant hum of Night City’s ceaseless life filtering through the concrete walls. For a beat, they sat in the stillness. Judy glanced sideways, catching the faint curve of a smirk on Val’s lips, that infuriatingly calm expression that gave nothing away.

“You’re really not gonna tell me?” she nudged, her tone light but edged with curiosity.

The blue-haired woman only grinned, a slow, knowing tilt of her mouth. “Where’s the fun in that?”

Judy rolled her eyes, but the spark of anticipation coiled tighter in her chest.

The elevator ride was a slow crawl upward, the metallic groan of the old lift filling the space between them. Valerie leaned casually against the wall, answering Judy’s pointed questions with little more than a shrug and a smirk. Judy tried to stay annoyed, but it was impossible. The secrecy only made her pulse quicken.

When the doors slid open with a soft chime, they stepped into a dim hallway. The walls were a patchwork of peeling paint, vibrant graffiti, and forgotten posters - layers of life and defiance clinging to the building’s bones. The scent of old metal and something vaguely synthetic lingered in the air. Valerie led the way, her strides confident, until she stopped at a door near the end of the corridor. A quick swipe of her keycard, a mechanical click, and Valerie pushed the door open.

Judy followed, expecting something wild - something that matched the blue-haired striker’s sharp edges and reckless charm. But the apartment that unfolded before her was surprisingly understated. The main room was spacious and thoughtfully arranged. Industrial minimalism softened by personal touches. A sleek couch sat opposite a wall-mounted screen casting muted news reports in the corner, its glow flickering over scattered magazines and cluttered documents on the low table. The compact kitchen gleamed under soft lighting, its metallic counters spotless and cold. The walls were adorned with a few pieces of edgy art, adding a splash of color to the otherwise muted palette, like flashes of violence on an otherwise still canvas.

Her gaze drifted to an intercom panel, positioned beside closed door leading to an additional room, hinting at a level of privacy and security that piqued her curiosity.

Valerie’s voice cut through Judy’s observations. “Welcome to my humble abode,” she grinned, leaning casually against the doorframe as if she was presenting something grand. “Not exactly a penthouse suite, but it does the job.”

Judy let out a soft laugh, her eyes still exploring. “Honestly? It suits you.”

Valerie raised an eyebrow. “Yeah? And what exactly does that mean?”

Judy shot her a sly smile. “Rough around the edges but hiding something interesting.”

Valerie chuckled, the sound low and easy. She tossed Judy’s bag onto the couch and stretched. “Fair enough. Guess I should give you the grand tour.”

Before Judy could answer, the blue-haired woman was already moving, draping an arm casually over the smaller woman’s shoulders. The sudden closeness sent a flicker of warmth through Judy’s chest. “So, kitchen’s yours—raid it if you want. Bathroom’s through there. Bed’s here. And this,” Val’s hand gestured toward the intercom and the closed door, “this is my little sanctuary. Where I keep… projects.”

“Projects? That sounds sketchy.”

Valerie’s eyes glinted. “Maybe it is.”

“Should I be worried?”

The blue-haired woman leaned in just enough for her breath to ghost over Judy’s ear. “Never while I'm around.”

Judy laughed, shaking her head. “I’ll just assume it’s a sex dungeon.”

Valerie pulled back with a slow, wicked grin. “Kinky, babe. But not yet.”

The air between them tightened, a silent challenge hanging in the space.

Val was the first to move, her tone easing. “Shower’s all yours if you want to freshen up before we head out. Red towel’s clean.”

Judy’s eyes flicked toward the bathroom, its glass partition barely offering privacy. Heat crept up her neck at the thought of showering in such an open space, of being exposed, so close to Valerie.

Val caught the hesitation, her smirk softening. “Relax. I get it. I can stay on the bed. No peeking. Unless, of course, you want me to.”

Judy laughed nervously, brushing a hand through her hair. “I think I’ll take the privacy. For now.”

“Fair enough. But I make no promises if you take too long," Valerie said as she held up her hands in mock surrender and winked. Then she sauntered over to the bed with an easy, unbothered grace, letting herself fall back onto the mattress. She sprawled out, phone in hand, the soft glow of the screen casting faint light over her sharp features. Judy watched her in silence, the steady rhythm of her own heartbeat drumming loud in her ears. The bruise on Valerie’s face caught her eye - faded now, a mottled green where a scratch had once burned red during their last call. That conversation, full of half-spoken truths and shared vulnerabilities, still lingered in Judy’s mind like a ghost refusing to leave.

But Valerie wasn’t a flicker on a screen anymore. She was here. Real. Close. No miles of cracked roads or city skylines stood between them now. Judy wasn’t sitting in her grandparents’ house, in different state, staring at a pixelated image, wondering how Valerie’s skin might feel under her hands. She was in the same room. Breathing the same air. And yet, words felt heavier now. Playful banter, so easy to send through texts, now sat just out of reach on the tip of her tongue. Valerie’s presence - solid and warm - was both a comfort and a challenge. It quieted some of Judy’s nerves but stirred others, leaving her suspended between the urge to close the distance and the fear of shattering the fragile moment.

For weeks, Judy had imagined this reunion, conjuring scenarios where they would run toward each other, embrace tightly, and kiss passionately, like a scene from a cheesy romantic movie. Birds would flutter around them, and a guy with a violin would appear out of nowhere, serenading their kiss. She knew it was ridiculous. The reality felt starkly different from her fantasies – there was no music, no grand declarations, just the quite hum of the city beyond the walls. It was devoid of the cinematic flair she had envisioned, grounded instead in the raw, genuine feelings of the moment. And it was better.  

Still, Judy felt the awkwardness creep in, the weight of all the things she wanted to say, the things she wanted to do. Weeks of tension simmered under her skin, a knot of happiness tangled with a fluttering nervousness, making her heart race. The anticipation that had built up over their conversations now hung heavily in the air between them, charged with unspoken desires and unfulfilled longing. Valerie’s presence stirred every dormant feeling awake. Judy’s gaze traced the easy sprawl of Valerie’s body, the way her worn, plaid shirt clung to the sharp angles of her shoulders, the faint flicker of her fingers scrolling absentmindedly across the screen.

Judy wanted to learn every inch of her. Slowly. Thoroughly.

She wanted to press her lips to the hollow of Valerie’s throat, to follow the curve of her collarbone with a reverent mouth. She wanted to taste the salt of her skin, to map every sharp edge and soft curve, to feel the way Valerie’s breath would catch when she sank her fingers inside her. She wanted to hear the sounds Valerie would make, low and raw, wanted to know how far she could push until Valerie forgot everything but the way Judy touched her.

The thought ignited something deep and hot in her chest, spreading outward until it burned at the edges of her skin.

But Judy knew better than to rush it. There was time. Those moments could wait. The day stretched ahead, unwritten and waiting. She could wait. Let it build. Let it simmer. For now, being here - sharing this space, this quiet - was enough.

Drawing in a steadying breath, Judy tore her eyes away and turned toward the bathroom. She hesitated for a beat, glancing back over her shoulder, half-hoping Valerie would break her promise and follow. Some selfish part of her wanted to feel Valerie’s hands on her even here, under the hot spray of water. But Valerie stayed put. Or at least, she didn’t follow.

Still, Judy could feel her eyes. Watching her disappear behind the corner. That thought alone sent a rush of heat spiraling through her.

Then, with quick, practiced motions, she shed her clothes and stepped beneath the waiting stream. The water hit her skin like a balm, hot and relentless, washing away the stiffness from travel, the lingering nerves that had clung to her since landing in Night City.

But it didn’t wash away Valerie. No, Valerie was still there - etched into her thoughts, woven into every beat of her heart. The doubts and fears that had gnawed at her during the flight, at the airport, now seemed distant, drowned beneath the steady drum of water and the growing anticipation curling tighter in her chest. Whatever the day held, whatever this was between them, Judy was ready to find out.

After a few minutes, she turned off the water and grabbed the red towel. She wrapped it snugly around herself, the plush fabric clinging to her damp skin, still flushed and tingling from the heat. Steam curled lazily in the air, softening the edges of the cramped bathroom, and for a brief moment, Judy just stood there, letting the warmth sink in.

Quickly, she dried off and dressed in fresh clothes, feeling more like herself with each passing moment. She pulled on a simple white tank top, the cotton cool against her skin, and slid into a pair of well-worn skinny jeans. The familiarity of the outfit settled over her like armor. Stepping out into the softly lit room, Judy’s eyes found Valerie seated on the edge of the bed, the other woman casually leaning back on her palms. Her blue hair caught the light in uneven strands, wild and bright, framing a face that lifted into a grin the second their eyes met.

"Feel better?" Valerie's voice was warm, unguarded, like they were already halfway through a conversation.

Judy nodded, a shy smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. "Much better. Thanks for giving me a moment."

The air between them shifted - subtle, but they knew it was there. The kind of pause where the room feels smaller, quieter. Valerie’s gaze lingered, flicking down to Judy’s lips and back up again, her own parting slightly as if she had words on the tip of her tongue but couldn’t quite let them go. The silence stretched, thick with something Judy couldn’t name, until a soft chuckle escaped her, breaking the spell like glass cracking under pressure.

"Lost in thought?" she teased, head tilting just enough to let a smirk creep in.

Valerie blinked, like waking from a daydream, and pushed herself up from the bed. Her eyes gleamed, and that familiar cocky grin slipped back into place. "You look amazin’," she murmured, softer now, like it wasn’t meant to be heard but slipped out anyway. "I’m just... really fuckin’ glad you’re here."

Judy’s stomach flipped, heat rising under her skin for a different reason now.

"Come on. Let’s go. Got a whole day planned, and trust me, it’s gonna blow your mind."

Judy raised a brow, following as Val headed for the door. "You do realize I’m not a tourist, right? I’ve been living in Night City longer than you’ve had that shirt."

Valerie glanced back over her shoulder, flashing a grin that was all teeth and something warmer. "Yeah, but these? These are my spots. The good ones. The secret ones."

And just like that, Judy found herself smiling again, drawn forward by the promise of whatever Valerie had planned.

The day had been stitched together with laughter and quiet glances, each moment unraveling into the next like a story they were writing without meaning to.

It had started at the amusement park. Valerie had stood at a shooting gallery, her focus sharp, lips tugged into a smirk as she leveled the rifle. With effortless precision, she knocked down every target, earning not just the wide-eyed admiration of passersby but a giant, plush koala that dwarfed even Valerie in size. She gave it to Judy, who had laughed, her heart light, and leaned in to press a soft kiss to Valerie’s cheek. It was brief, teasing, but the pink flush that crept up Valerie's neck didn’t go unnoticed.

Later, the hum of the city pulled them toward El Coyote Cojo. The bar buzzed with life, the thick air steeped in the scent of sweat, beer, and the faint smoke. Laughter mingled with the twang of old guitars from a jukebox in the corner. Valerie led Judy through the crowd with a confident ease, weaving past patrons to the bar where the bulky, black-haired man stood polishing glasses with a rag that had seen better days.

“Pepe,” Val called out, that smirk curling again. “Got someone I want you to meet.”

Pepe’s eyes flicked up, warm and knowing. Judy felt the weight of his gaze, assessing, curious. But whatever he saw in Valerie’s posture must’ve been enough. His grin widened, and the tension eased. They shared a couple of non-alcoholic beers, the cool bottles sweating in their hands as conversation flowed easily. Pepe spun stories of Valerie’s younger, wilder days - tales of reckless nights and daring escapes that made Judy laugh, eyes crinkling at the corners. Valerie just rolled her eyes, though her grin never faded.

Eventually, the bar's noise began to blur, and they slipped back into the quiet streets. The city hummed around them, neon signs flickering like distant galaxies. They stumbled upon a small Polish restaurant, its chipped sign promising the best pierogis in town. The windows glowed softly, inviting, the kind of place you’d miss if you weren’t looking. Inside, the air was thick with the smell of butter and fried dough. Judy, grinning, reached over and stole a steaming pierogi right off Val's plate when the other woman was busy talking to their waitress.

“Hey!” Valerie’s mock outrage was betrayed by the spark in her eyes.

Judy just smirked, biting into the stolen prize with exaggerated satisfaction. “Should’ve guarded it better.”

Valerie leaned in close, voice dropping low. “Keep that up, and Miss Koala will ride shotgun instead.”

They left the restaurant in high spirits, warmth in their bellies and something softer, heavier, settling in their chests. The enormous koala was wedged awkwardly into the backseat of Valerie’s Quadra, its plush limbs sprawled gracelessly. The city lights blurred past them, streaks of color against the dark. Night City was alive, but they drifted above it all, chasing quieter places. Valerie’s fingers drummed lightly against the steering wheel as they wound along the edge of the dam. The air cooled, thinner this high up. Without a word, Valerie reached behind the seat and produced a soft blanket, holding it up with a quiet, satisfied smile.

“For the hood,” she explained, a glimmer in her eye. “Figured we could stargaze.”

“Actually,” Judy said slowly, a playful challenge curling into her voice, “I know a better spot. Safer. More secluded.”

Valerie shot her a sideways glance, one brow arched in curiosity. “Oh, do you now?” she drawled, the corners of her mouth twitching. “Got a secret hideout you’re keeping from me?”

Judy’s smirk deepened. “Something like that.”

Val laughed softly, the sound low and rich. “Alright, Judy. Lead the way.”

The hum of Night City faded behind them, swallowed by the stillness of the outskirts. Judy’s pulse quickened, not from the adrenaline of city chaos but from the quiet thrill coiling in her chest. Guiding them through winding roads she knew by heart, every twist and turn stirred old memories, blending nostalgia with the heady anticipation of now. The Quadra’s engine rumbled beneath them, a steady counterpoint to Judy’s racing heart, until Valerie eased the car to a stop on the uneven gravel path.

Before them, the cottage stood in the soft glow of the moon, its weathered frame tucked beside the lake like a forgotten secret. The sight pulled at something deep in Judy - a bittersweet tug of old summers spent chasing freedom beneath the water’s surface. Now, it shimmered under the moonlight, the lake stretched out in glassy stillness, holding its own kind of invitation.

Judy moved first, instinct guiding her toward the narrow pier that jutted into the lake’s quiet expanse. The wood groaned faintly under her boots, each step syncing with the soft lap of water against the supports. Valerie’s footsteps followed close behind, steady and sure. Reaching the edge, Judy eased herself down, legs dangling above the mirrored water, the cool air skimming her skin. She glanced back, catching Valerie in the moon’s pale light. A slow, soft smile curled at Judy’s lips as she patted the empty space beside her.

“Come sit with me.”

Valerie didn’t hesitate. She lowered herself with a fluid grace, their shoulders nearly brushing as they sat cocooned by the quiet. Above them, stars pricked the sky, cold and distant, yet somehow comforting. The lake reflected their glow, a dark canvas flecked with light. Judy felt it settle around them - the kind of silence that didn’t need to be filled. A sense of peace.

But something restless stirred in her. After a moment of overthinking and second-guessing her next move, she laid back. Her head found Valerie’s lap, fitting there as if it had always belonged. She barely had time to draw breath before Valerie’s fingers threaded through her hair, slow and tender. Fingertips traced idle patterns, not rushed, not demanding - just present. Judy exhaled, tension bleeding out with every careful stroke, each touch grounding her more than words ever could. And under the vast, quiet sky, she let herself fall deeper into that quiet comfort, feeling more at home than she had in years.

“This place is incredible, Jude,” Valerie murmured, her voice low, blending with the quiet. Her eyes lifted to the stars, reflecting something softer than the city ever allowed. “It’s so peaceful here.”

Judy let her eyes drift shut, breathing in the damp scent of the lake, the earthy wood beneath them, and Valerie’s closeness. “Yeah,” she whispered, the word curling on her tongue like a secret. “It’s always been one of the few places where I could actually breathe. I used to come here to clear my head… especially when things got rough.”

The quiet stretched, but not uncomfortably. Judy could feel the subtle shift in Valerie's posture, the way her gaze flickered downward, lingering on her with something tender beneath the surface. Concern shadowed the softness in her eyes, a quiet question that didn’t need to be spoken.

“Rough, huh?” Val’s voice broke the silence, careful and measured, threading that delicate line between curiosity and care. “Did I… do something wrong?”

A faint smile tugged at Judy’s lips. She shifted slightly, cheek pressed against the warmth of Valerie’s lap. “No, Val. You didn’t,” her voice was soft but steady, carrying the weight of unspoken reassurance. “Everything’s good. Better than good.”

She let her eyes flutter open, lifting her gaze to meet Valerie’s searching one. There was something in Valerie’s expression - a tension coiled just beneath the surface, waiting to snap. “Being here with you…” Judy began, voice thick with quiet conviction, “it feels right. Like this is exactly where I’m supposed to be. I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else right now.”

The tension in Valerie’s shoulders softened, barely perceptible but there. Something unspoken slipped away, leaving behind only the steady rhythm of her breath and the gentle sweep of her fingers trailing over Judy’s neck. A slow smile crept across Valerie’s face, warmer this time, her touch softer, as if she’d exhaled something she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. “Same.” The word was simple but full, sincere in a way that made Judy’s chest tighten. “Does this place… mean something to you?”

Judy’s breath caught for a moment. She turned her head to glance out at the water, the lake shimmering like dark glass under the sky’s silver sprawl. “It does,” she murmured, her voice dipping lower, rich with a quiet weight. “My home’s at the bottom of this lake.”

Valerie blinked, then let out a soft, exaggerated gasp. “Oh, that explains it. You’re a mermaid. It all makes sense now.”

The teasing lilt in her voice made Judy’s lips curl into a grin. The smaller woman pushed herself up slightly, the playful spark in her eyes catching the moonlight.

“And if I don’t kiss you by midnight, you’re going to slip back into the water and disappear, huh?”

“Probably,” Judy leaned in, her voice dropping, slow and deliberate, each word a challenge. “Do you really want to take that risk?”

Valerie’s smirk widened, her face inching closer, so close Judy could feel the brush of her breath, warm and soft against her lips.

“Oh, I wouldn’t dare.”

The night tightened around them, the world shrinking until it was only the hush of the lake, the sky stitched with stars, and the tension that thrummed between them. Judy didn’t wait, she couldn’t stop herself anymore. Her hand fisted in the front of Valerie’s shirt, fingers curling into the fabric as she pulled her in. Their lips met in a kiss that started slow, exploratory, as if they were testing how they fit together.

But it didn’t take long to find the answer.

Valerie’s mouth was soft, yielding, yet there was something heady in the way she moved - measured, coaxing. Judy deepened the kiss, her tongue teasing, tasting, urging more. And Valerie gave it, met it, matched it. The world blurred at the edges. Judy could only feel - the press of Valerie’s lips, the way their breaths tangled, the faint scrape of teeth. Her hand slipped up to cradle Valerie’s neck, thumb brushing along the line of her jaw, while her other hand gripped Val’s waist, pulling her closer. In one slow, fluid motion, Judy shifted, straddling Valerie’s lap. The blue-haired woman welcomed the change without hesitation, hands sliding up Judy’s thighs, roaming with a hunger that left heat and goosebumps trailing in their wake.

Judy gasped softly when Valerie’s hand slipped beneath her shirt, fingers skating over bare skin. The sudden contact made her breath stutter, but she didn’t pull away - instead, she pressed closer, chasing the warmth, the steady thrum of Valerie’s heartbeat beneath her palm.

After what felt like an eternity, Judy broke the kiss just enough to meet Valerie’s gaze. Desire clouded her eyes, but there was something more - something softer, glowing like embers beneath the heat. It left Judy breathless, chest rising and falling as she stared into that endless gray. Time seemed to slow, stretching impossibly thin between them, each second weighted with all they weren’t saying.

They both laughed then, soft and breathless, a bubble of sound that broke the tension without shattering it. Judy's heart raced, pounding against her ribcage as if yearning to escape and leap into this new, thrilling reality.

“Hey there,” she whispered, her voice barely more than air, but it carried.

Valerie’s smirk softened into something warmer. “Hey.” Then, a glint of playfulness flickered again. “Since you’re not turning into a mermaid anytime soon… maybe we should head back to my place. You know, continue this somewhere more comfortable.”

Judy’s smile deepened, slow and certain.

“I’d love that.”

The door slammed shut behind them with a muted thud, sealing them off from the hum of the outside world. Judy barely registered it, too consumed by the fire in Valerie’s kisses - hungry, desperate, like they could devour each other whole. They stumbled through the dimly lit apartment, limbs tangling in their haste, colliding with walls and furniture they barely noticed. Somehow, they made it to the plush couch - Valerie fell back into it with a soft gasp, Judy followed without hesitation, straddling her lap in one fluid motion, never breaking the fevered press of their mouths. The taste of Valerie, the heat of her breath - it was intoxicating, grounding Judy in the moment and setting her alight all at once.

Her fingers worked quickly at the buttons of Valerie’s shirt, deft despite the tremble in her hands. One by one, they gave way, revealing inch after inch of warm skin. Valerie’s hands didn’t stay idle either, sliding beneath the hem of Judy’s tank top, palms skimming over bare flesh, rough and reverent all at once. Judy shivered at the touch, the chill of the room paling in comparison to the burn beneath Valerie’s fingertips.

Fabric fell away between them – Judy’s top, her jeans - carelessly discarded, leaving her half-naked and aching against Valerie’s body. Their kisses deepened, turning feral, teeth clashing, breaths stolen. It felt like they were trying to crawl inside each other, to make up for every second they’d been apart.

“Fuck, Jude,” Valerie groaned, her voice rough, barely more than a ragged breath against Judy’s lips.

The last button came undone, and Judy shoved the flaps of Valerie’s shirt aside, her breath catching in her throat. She drank in the sight - the sharp lines of muscle along Valerie’s abdomen, the dark edge of tattoos peeking out beneath the thin lace of her bra, scars tracing stories Judy ached to learn with her mouth. Weeks of wanting, of imagining this exact moment, ignited in her chest. That encounter after the championship match had planted a hunger in her that hadn’t dulled. If anything, it had sharpened, leaving her craving more. The photo Val had sent days ago - a teasing glimpse of skin and ink - had done nothing but feed that desire.

This was real. Warm. Alive. Her hands moved reverently, palms gliding over Valerie’s torso, fingers brushing the raised edges of old wounds. Judy felt Valerie tense, a slight hitch in her breath, but she didn’t pull away. She let Judy explore, let her fingers map every scar, every mark, like charting stars in a sky she could finally touch.

Judy leaned in, lips brushing the curve of Valerie’s neck, teeth grazing the soft skin just behind her jaw. The quiet sound Valerie made - a soft, breathy whimper - spurred Judy on, heat coiling low in her belly. She wanted more. Needed more. She wanted to hear Valerie come apart beneath her, to have her gasp Judy’s name into the dark. This was why she’d come back to Night City. All for her.

Judy leaned in to claim her mouth again, desperate to taste more, but the sharp buzz of Valerie’s phone fractured the moment like glass.

The blue-haired woman paused, pulling back slightly, irritation flickering in her eyes. She reached blindly for the device, fingers curling around it, but she didn’t even look at the screen. With a scoff, she tossed it further down the couch.

“Fuck it,” Valerie muttered, mouth already seeking Judy’s again.

But the phone buzzed. Again. And again. Persistent. Demanding.

Judy stilled, breath ragged. “Val,” she murmured, brushing loose strands of hair from Valerie’s face, “maybe you should check. Could be important.”

Valerie groaned, head tipping back in frustration. Her hands still gripped Judy’s waist, holding her in place, as if letting go would break the spell. “It can wait.” The words were a growl, thick with impatience. She leaned in, lips ghosting over Judy’s, ready to drown in her again.

But the phone vibrated once more, insistent. Judy cupped Valerie’s face, thumbs brushing her cheekbones, grounding her. “Please,” she whispered, voice softer now. “Just check. I’m not going anywhere.”

Valerie's eyes searched hers, the sharp edge of frustration softening into something more resigned. With a heavy sigh, she slipped from beneath Judy, rising to snatch the phone from where it lay. Her gaze flicked to the screen, and in an instant, something in her shifted. The irritation melted away, replaced by a tension that settled deep in her shoulders - a quiet, sharpened concern that darkened her eyes.

"I'll be right back," Val muttered, voice distant now, drained of its earlier playfulness. It felt hollow, mechanical.

Judy watched as the blue-haired woman disappeared, the quiet slide of a door closing behind her sounding impossibly loud in the thick stillness that followed. The air in the room cooled with her absence, though Valerie's touch still clung to Judy's skin like a fading echo. Judy leaned back, exhaling slowly, her eyes fixed on the space where Valerie had been. Uncertainty gnawed at her. The distance between them stretched, heavy with questions left unspoken. Judy tried to slow her racing heart, telling herself this wouldn't overshadow the night they'd shared. She let her head rest against the couch, staring up at the ceiling as her mind spiraled through possibilities.

But the seconds dragged on, and the simmering anticipation that had burned so brightly began to flicker. Clad only in her underwear, Judy felt the chill of the room creep in, coiling around her limbs. Instinctively, she reached for the plaid shirt draped over the arm of the sofa. As she slipped it on, the scent of sandalwood and faint traces of cigarettes enveloped her, soft and familiar. Valerie. It was like pulling her close again, even if it was only fabric. Judy pressed her face to the collar, inhaling deeply, embarrassed by how much comfort it gave her.

Minutes stretched unbearably thin. Ten, maybe more.

When Valerie finally returned, the woman who stepped back into the room was not the same one who had been with Judy earlier, who had touched her like she was something precious. The cocky smirk was gone, replaced by a guarded stillness. Valerie's eyes seemed distant, clouded by thoughts that weighed her down. Her shirt hung open, exposing skin that once felt so inviting, now vulnerable in its stillness.

Judy straightened, rising to her feet, though they remained apart - more than just a few steps. A space dense with tension kept them separated, the air thick with things left unsaid. "Did something happen, Val?"

Valerie's gaze flicked away, her jaw tightening. "It's nothin'. I don't want it to ruin our night."

But Judy didn't move. "Val, it already has. Something’s wrong."

Valerie sighed, fingers raking through her blue hair in frustration. She forced a smile, but it faltered, never quite reaching her eyes. "It’s just... family stuff. Complicated. But it can wait."

Judy hesitated, then stepped closer, close enough that her hand hovered near Valerie's arm, unsure whether to close the gap. "If it’s botherin’ you, it’s not nothin’. You can talk to me."

For a moment, Valerie seemed to wrestle with the words. Then, finally, she met Judy's gaze. "It was an old friend. He knows about So Mi. Said she’s in trouble. She might need my help."

Judy's heart softened, understanding threading through her concern. "Do you need to go?"

Valerie shook her head, though her stance was taut, conflicted. "No. Not yet. I just... need to think. A moment to process this. I’m sorry, Judy. I didn’t mean for this to mess up... everything."

Judy closed the remaining space, her hands reaching for Valerie’s, fingers threading gently through hers. "Hey. It's not ruined. I know we were about to… um… but we don’t have to rush anything. Besides, I was hoping this wouldn’t be the last time you invite me over."

A flicker of light returned to Val's eyes. "You kidding? I’m gonna ask for a transfer to Pittsburgh tomorrow."

Laughter bubbled between them, easing the knot of tension. The promise of more - of something beyond tonight - hung softly in the air. They had time to take another step. This was only the beginning. Judy still ached to drag Valerie to bed, to drown in the warmth they'd kindled, but she knew better. Valerie’s mind was far away now, and Judy wasn’t about to be selfish.

"I could offer you a fresh t-shirt if you want. Might be more comfortable than my stinky shirt."

Judy flushed, realizing Valerie had noticed the plaid she’d stolen. "Yeah... that’d be nice."

With a soft chuckle, the blue-haired woman rummaged through a drawer and pulled out a worn, soft t-shirt with the Samurai logo cracked and faded. She handed it over, their fingers brushing in the exchange. "One of my favorites. Super comfy."

Judy took it, cheeks still warm. "Thanks."

Valerie's expression softened. "I’m gonna take a quick shower, clear my head. You don’t have to wait up. I’ll crash on the couch tonight."

Disappointment flickered behind Judy’s eyes, but she masked it with a small nod. "If you insist."

Valerie noticed the reluctance but chose not to comment on it. She offered a quiet smile before disappearing into the bathroom, leaving Judy in the dim, quiet space.

Judy lingered for a moment, the silence pressing in. She stepped toward the bed, fingers methodically undoing the buttons of the plaid shirt. The fabric slid from her shoulders to the floor, followed by her bra. She pulled Val’s t-shirt over her head. It draped over her small frame, the scent of Valerie clinging to it, grounding her, wrapping her in an invisible embrace. The mattress dipped beneath her weight as she settled in, the cool sheets warming quickly against her skin. Judy stretched out, the remnants of Valerie’s presence lingering in the space, intertwining comfort and yearning in a way that made her chest ache. She let her head sink into the pillow, inhaling deeply. The scent of Valerie was everywhere, woven into the fabric of her room, her bed, her life.

From the bathroom came the steady cascade of water, its rhythm soothing the turmoil in her mind. The night had taken turns she hadn’t entirely expected, moments that veered between vulnerability and something unspoken but electrified. It wasn’t perfect, not by any stretch, but there was a kind of magic in simply being here, in Valerie’s world, entangled in sheets that smelled like her. Judy felt herself slipping further, falling faster than she wanted to admit. It was becoming increasingly difficult to contain her feelings and she knew Valerie felt it too. She caught it in the fleeting glances when she thought Judy wasn’t looking, in the laughter that bubbled too freely after one of Judy’s jokes, in the subtle softening of her expression when their eyes met. It was mutual, this pull, undeniable even if the sharp edges of their lives hinted at trouble ahead.

Judy didn’t want to stop herself from feeling this - excitement, hunger, unease, all blending into something heady and irresistible. Would it end in heartbreak? Probably. But in that moment, she didn’t care. She only wanted to feel the warmth of Valerie’s body wrapped around her. The risk seemed worth it, just to hold onto this fleeting magic a little longer.

Judy was already nestled beneath the covers when Valerie appeared, her damp hair curling at the ends, droplets of water tracing faint paths down the loose white t-shirt she’d changed into. She moved to the edge of the bed, her fingers brushing through Judy’s colorful strands, a touch so gentle it almost unraveled her.

“You okay?” Judy asked softly, her voice lilting like a purr in response to the unexpected intimacy.

Valerie nodded, her smile reassuring but tinged with weariness. “Yeah, just a lot on my mind. I’ll be fine.” Her lips quirked into a familiar smirk. “Came to say goodnight and steal one last look at the goddess in my bed.”

Judy rolled her eyes, but the warmth in her chest betrayed her. “Goddess, huh?”

“Undeniable fact,” Valerie’s tone was light, but her gaze lingered as though committing Judy’s face to memory. “Get some rest, Jude. We’ve got an early start for your flight.”

Judy hesitated, then reached for her, fingers curling lightly around Valerie’s hand. “Are you sure you want to sleep on the couch? There’s plenty of room here. Besides…” Her lips curved into a sly smile. “I heard someone bragging earlier about being the best cuddler in the country. I was hoping for the full VIP experience tonight.”

Valerie froze, her resolve flickering in her gray eyes. After a moment, she sighed, her expression softening. “Alright,” she said, her voice quieter now, gentler. “But I have to warn you—it’s life-changing. You’ll never want to sleep without me again.”

Judy grinned, a spark of hope and relief lighting her features. “I’ll take my chances.”

Valerie smirked, the teasing glint returning to her gaze. “I’ll remind you of that tomorrow when you’re begging me to fly across the country just to cuddle you.”

Val vaulted over her, slipping beneath the covers and settling onto the second pillow. Her movements were smooth, deliberate, as though careful not to disturb the fragile peace that had settled between them. Their bodies maintained a polite distance, but the warmth radiating from Valerie felt magnetic, pulling at Judy in ways she wasn’t entirely prepared to admit. Her fingers twitched with the temptation to reach for her, to close the space that suddenly felt like miles. The silence of the room was rich, punctuated only by the low hum of the city outside, distant and inconsequential. Judy let her eyes drift closed, her heartbeat steady yet insistent, each beat marking the passing of time, counting down to when she might surrender to the desire to pull Valerie closer.

A subtle shift in the mattress drew Judy’s gaze back to Valerie, her eyes finding those unmistakable gray irises. They gleamed softly in the dim light, enigmatic and layered, holding a complexity that Judy couldn’t quite decipher. Despite her best efforts, the emotions behind that gaze eluded her, a secret that Valerie seemed intent on keeping. The mystery was intoxicating, a puzzle Judy both craved and feared to solve.

Without fully realizing it, her hand moved. Her fingers brushed against Valerie’s damp hair, smoothing it away from her face before tracing the elegant curve of her neck. The soft rise of her shoulders followed, each caress tender, exploratory. Beneath her touch, Valerie tensed - a small, involuntary response that made Judy falter.

“Sor—” Judy began, but her apology was swallowed by Valerie’s lips, the kiss sudden but not unwelcome. Strong hands found her waist, pulling her closer with a confidence that left no room for doubt. Judy melted into her instantly, her hesitation dissolving right away.

This time, their kiss wasn’t rushed or urgent. It was deliberate, tender, a quiet exchange that spoke of unhurried affection. As if they had all the time in the world and no pressure to hurry. Valerie’s lips moved with a softness that sent Judy’s senses into overdrive, her heart pounding in her chest as though trying to match the rhythm of their shared breaths. They shifted toward one another instinctively, their bodies aligning as if drawn by some unseen force.

Judy trembled beneath the sensation, her body betraying her as soft, involuntary moans escaped her lips, only to be captured and swallowed by Valerie. Every nerve felt alive, the heat simmering beneath her skin building with each moment. Valerie’s hands roamed lightly, anchoring her in the moment yet refusing to rush. Judy surrendered completely, letting Valerie take the lead, allowing herself to be swept away by the warmth of her lips and the weightlessness of forgetting everything beyond the two of them.

When the kiss finally broke, they both gasped softly, their chests rising and falling in unison. The quiet felt reverent, the shared breaths between them a delicate thread binding the moment together. Judy’s fingers lingered on Valerie’s cheek, tracing the curve of her jaw and the fullness of her lips with an almost worshipful care. Valerie met her gaze, her face flushed, her hair slightly tousled, and a radiant grin curving her lips. It wasn’t just beauty Judy saw - it was vulnerability, raw and exposed, a truth she wasn’t sure Valerie often shared.

In that moment, Judy was struck with a realization - she had never experienced a kiss like this before, not one that tender, soft, and unguarded, each second cherished as if time had suspended itself.

“No, I’m sorry,” Val whispered, breaking the stillness as she took Judy’s hand, pressing a gentle kiss to her knuckles. “I’m not used to this kind of touch. It’s like my body reacts before my mind can catch up.”

Judy’s lips quirked in a soft smile, though her breath still felt unsteady. “If that’s your way of apologizing…” she let her words trail off, her tone teasing but her eyes still searching Valerie’s.

Valerie chuckled softly, her thumb brushing over the back of Judy’s hand. The silence that followed wasn’t awkward - it was thick with unspoken understanding, each glance and touch saying what neither of them could articulate.

“I’m sorry for getting lost in my head earlier,” Valerie murmured after a while, her voice barely above a whisper. “I didn’t mean to ruin this.”

Judy shifted, resting her head against Valerie’s shoulder, her arm draping loosely over her waist. “You didn’t,” she replied softly. “It couldn’t have been more perfect.”

Valerie tilted her head slightly, pressing a kiss to the other woman’s temple. “You look good in my shirt,” she murmured. “You should keep it—something to remember me by.”

Judy smiled, the faintest laugh escaping her. “I doubt I’ll be able to forget you anytime soon,” she said, settling in further and feeling Val’s smile against her scalp. She entwined her fingers with Valerie’s, anchoring herself in the moment as her eyes grew heavier.

“Goodnight, Jude,” Valerie whispered, her voice soft and tender.

“Goodnight, Val,” Judy murmured back, her gaze lingering on their tangled hands as she finally let herself drift off, feeling wrapped in a warmth she wasn’t sure she’d ever known before.

The first light of dawn crept tenderly through the half-drawn curtains, painting soft gold across the room. Judy stirred, the gentle glow coaxing her from sleep. She blinked slowly, her senses gradually stitching together the hazy remnants of the night before. Beneath the quiet hum of morning, she became aware of the warmth beside her - the steady rise and fall of the chest beneath her cheek, the subtle intertwining of their fingers, as natural and effortless as breathing.

They were still tangled together, limbs knotted in a closeness that felt sacred, untouched by the outside world. Their bodies fit together with such quiet perfection, as though the universe had spent a lifetime arranging them into this moment. Judy let her eyes flutter shut again, allowing herself to drift in the quiet intimacy, surrendering to the sensation of pure contentment, savoring the sweetness of this fleeting paradise. For once, sleep had come easily, wrapping her in a rare, unshaken calm. The ever-present weight she carried seemed to have lifted.

A deep, slow breath filled Judy’s lungs, but with it came the familiar sting of reality. In a few short hours, she'd be on a plane back to Pittsburgh. Back to her cold apartment, back to a city that suddenly seemed impossibly far from the softness she found here. The thought tightened in her chest, a dull ache blooming at the edges. She wished she could fold this moment into her pocket, keep it safe, carry it with her across the country.

But the weight of uncertainty pressed in. They hadn’t talked about what this was - what it could be. Was this something more, or simply an extended version of an extraordinary first date? Judy bit down on the thought before it could unravel her. This wasn’t the time to question or define. Not now, not while Valerie grappled with the shadows of her past. Judy wasn’t about to ask for more than what Val could give.

She could wait. For this woman, for this complicated, beautiful mess of a woman, she could wait.

Her gaze softened as it drifted to Valerie’s sleeping face, the early light casting a pale halo across her features. Judy reached up carefully, tracing the delicate line of the blue-haired woman’s jaw with the tip of her finger, light as a breath. It was a silent promise, a tender vow to hold onto this fragile, growing thing between them. Her touch followed the curve of Valerie’s cheek, the corner of her mouth, memorizing every soft detail.

Valerie shifted slightly beneath her, a soft sound escaping her lips - a sleepy hum, half yawn, half sigh. Then, a small smile, slow and unguarded, tugged at the corner of her mouth. “Just five more minutes,” she mumbled, her voice thick with sleep, as she nestled closer, instinctively seeking the warmth radiating from Judy.

Judy huffed a quiet laugh, her heart fluttering at the sight of Val's unguarded vulnerability. “You know I have a flight to catch, right?” she teased, though the words held no real urgency.

“Five more,” Valerie repeated, softer this time, the words melting into the pillow.

God, how easy it would be to stay. Judy tightened her grip on Valerie’s hand, letting herself sink a little deeper into the quiet, savoring every heartbeat in the stillness. Five more minutes couldn’t hurt. The outside world could wait five more minutes - in this fleeting moment, everything felt utterly perfect.

But, as often is the case, the universe had other plans. The shrill buzz of Judy’s alarm shattered the fragile calm, cutting through the soft morning like a blade. Valerie let out a groan, burying her face in the pillow, her brows knitting together in a delightful display of sleepy annoyance. Judy smirked, slipping carefully from Valerie’s hold, though her own body protested the loss of warmth. She reached for the glowing screen, silencing the alarm with a single swipe.

When she turned back, Valerie was watching her through barely open eyes, sleep still clouding her expression but softening into something warmer. Judy leaned down and pressed a lingering kiss to her lips - a slow, tender thing that seemed to pull Valerie back from the edge of sleep. Valerie’s breath caught, a quiet hum against Judy’s mouth, before a lazy grin spread across her face.

“You are so fuckin’ soft,” she murmured, voice rough and low, still thick with sleep. “Could stay like this forever.”

Judy chuckled, shaking her head as she pulled away.

“Don’t tempt me,” she whispered, casting a glance over her shoulder as she padded to the bathroom.

The shower greeted her with steam and warmth, the water cascading down and rinsing away the haze of sleep. Yet, no matter how the heat seeped into her muscles, it couldn’t erase the memory of Valerie’s lips, nor the phantom imprint of her fingertips ghosting over sensitive skin. The water ran in rivulets down her spine, but it did nothing to soothe the ache left in Valerie’s wake.

Wrapped in fresh clothes and slightly more anchored to the present, Judy padded softly back into the living room. She stole a glance toward the bed. Valerie lay sprawled in tangled sheets, her eyes were fixed on her phone, brows knit together in quiet tension. That familiar smirk was nowhere to be found - instead, a faint frown tugged at her lips, worry etched into every line of her face. She seemed far away, lost in a world that felt distant from the lazy warmth of their morning together.

Judy lingered at the edge of the bed, the atmosphere suddenly heavier, like a thread pulled too tight. "Everything alright?"

Valerie’s gaze flicked up, her gray eyes shadowed with something unreadable. “It’s just... some things,” she murmured, her voice low, distant. “Stuff I need to sort out.”

The weight of unsaid words hung between them. Judy took a step closer, the soft morning light filtering through the window, casting delicate shadows that danced across Val’s face. "Do you want to talk about it?" she asked, her tone gentler now, an offering without pressure.

Valerie’s shoulders loosened just a fraction. A small, tired smile flickered. "Nah. Not right now. Let’s just... stay here a little longer. Enjoy the moment."

Without waiting, she reached out, catching Judy’s wrist and tugging her forward until Judy straddled her lap. The sheets shifted, cool against Judy's thighs as Valerie’s arms looped around her waist, pulling her in close. Their lips met in a kiss, slow and unhurried, a tender press of mouths that spoke of comfort more than desire. But as the kiss deepened, Valerie abruptly pulled back, mischief glinting in her eyes.

Before Judy could react, Valerie’s fingers darted to her sides, skimming over sensitive skin. The sudden ticklish assault made Judy yelp, laughter bubbling up uncontrollably. “Val! Stop! That—oh my god—that tickles!” she gasped, twisting in Valerie’s hold, trying and failing to escape.

Valerie chuckled, her grip unyielding, clearly delighted. “Who knew the fierce, fearless Punchin’ Judy was this ticklish?” she teased, eyes bright with playful triumph.

Breathless, Judy tried to glare but couldn’t suppress her grin. “How the fuck did you even know?”

Valerie leaned back, smug satisfaction curling on her lips. “You shivered yesterday when I brushed your waist. I simply had to confirm.”

“You could’ve just asked,” Judy shot back, narrowing her eyes.

“Yeah, like you’d admit it,” Val’s grin widened, the playful tension easing back into something softer. Their eyes held for a beat, something unspoken passing between them. But Valerie’s curiosity wasn’t done yet. “Speaking of things you’d rather not admit… I wanted to ask about that place we visited yesterday.”

“What about it?”

“You meant it literally, right?” Valerie’s tone softened, but there was a thread of seriousness woven in. “Your home. You said it was underwater. Laguna Bend, right? I remember hearing about the protests when I was younger.”

A shadow passed through Judy’s eyes. She nodded slowly as she settled on the bed beside Val. “Yeah. They flooded it. Left us with nothing.” Memories flickered to life - the imposing church steeple, the abandoned wrecks of cars dotting the landscape, the diner where her grandparents would occasionally take her. “We moved to Night City after that. Cramped into some musty, falling-apart apartment in Watson with my grandparents. I hated every minute of it. My friends were gone. Everything was gone. The new school was full of assholes and bullies… and then we had to move again when my abuelo lost his job. Same shit, different place.”

The blue-haired woman listened in still silence, her expression unreadable but attentive.

“Met Reggie in Salem. She pushed me to try out for the junior team. That’s how it started. The rest is history.”

Valerie’s head tilted. “Reggie… as in Regina Jones? Your coach?”

Judy cracked a small smile. “Yeah. She changed my life. Twice, in fact. She helped me get out of Night City.”

Valerie smirked. “If you’d stayed, we’d be teammates right now. You could’ve crashed at my place any day.”

Judy snorted, a dry laugh escaping. “I wouldn’t have lasted five minutes in the Claws’ locker room. Or in this fuckin’ city. They wanted us to throw a match. That was it for me. Reet and Roxanne walked out with me.”

“They wouldn’t try that now. Not with Meredith breathing down their necks.”

“Stout does have that effect on team’s owners,” Judy noted. “Out of curiosity - what do you think of her, anyway? I never played with her, but I’ve heard quite the tales.”

Valerie paused, her face thoughtful. “Honestly? She’s not what people say. She’s tough, yeah, but she’s genuinely caring and incredibly passionate about the team.”

Judy raised a brow. “Seriously?”

Valerie’s straight face cracked into a grin. The serious facade didn’t last long - soon, Val burst into laughter.

“I almost believed you,” Judy said, a playful smile creeping onto her face.

“Yeah, you shouldn’t take everything I say at face value,” Valerie replied, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “Nah, she’s the worst, but she does push us to the limit, we’re better because of her.”

As their laughter faded into the soft morning air, an abrupt, insistent beep cut through the moment - a sound unmistakably belonging to Valerie’s alarm. She groaned, her playful demeanor giving way to a pressing urgency. “Ugh, we really need to get moving,” she said, pushing herself upright from the bed, her expression a blend of reluctance and determination. “If we don’t hurry, you’ll miss your flight. And as much as I would love to keep you here longer, I know your training schedule waits for no one.”

Judy sighed, a wave of melancholy washing over her at the thought of leaving this warm place and the vibrant presence of Valerie. In this moment, she felt inexplicably at home, largely because of the radiant spirit beside her. “Right. I suppose the world can’t wait forever,” she replied, swinging her legs over the edge of the bed, her heart heavy.

Valerie stretched, her arms reaching high above her head, the movement underling the lack of gracefulness that seemed to radiate from her. Then, with a playful glint in her eyes, she turned to Judy. “What do you say we grab a bite on the way to the airport? There’s a charming little spot I know for some quick chow.”

“Sounds perfect,” Judy agreed, a small smile tugging at her lips. “Lead the way.”

As they gathered their belongings, the morning light continued to pour through the window, casting a warm, golden hue across the room. The day ahead loomed, but for now, they lingered in this shared moment, savoring the fleeting hours they had left together.

As they stepped into the bustling airport terminal, the vibrant cacophony of travelers and distant announcements enveloped them, a vivid contrast to the quiet intimacy they had just shared. Judy and Valerie navigated the throngs of people, their fingers entwined, each moment stretching out as they faced the bittersweet reality of parting, the inevitable farewell. The weight of the impending goodbye pressed down on them, yet they were resolute in their determination to savor every fleeting second, to hold onto it fiercely.

Valerie’s gaze darted nervously about, her eyes frequently returning to Judy, as if she was trying to etch every detail into her memory. “I can’t believe you’ll be on the other side of the country again,” she murmured, her voice a soft blend of longing and affection. “This really sucks.”

Judy offered a soft smile, a flutter of warmth blooming in her chest. “Unfortunately, we can’t stop time,” she replied, her tone playful yet heavy with a weight of emotion. “But we’ll see each other at the training camp, won’t we?”

For a fleeting moment, Valerie’s expression shifted, revealing a brief flicker of disappointment and regret that tugged at Judy’s heart. It was a subtle change, but one Judy couldn’t ignore, sparking a cascade of unanswered questions in her mind. Was Valerie truly planning to attend? Would helping So Mi take so much time? In what sort of trouble she was? Would she jeopardize her chances at the World Cup for an old friend who had once abandoned her?

“Yeah,” Valerie replied, her voice edged with a false cheer, a smile stretched across her face that didn’t quite reach her eyes. Judy had spent enough time with her to recognize the façade, she could sense that Valerie had agreed merely to ease Judy’s worries. “Promise me you’ll text when you land?”

Valerie stepped back, her eyes searching Judy's face as if afraid to sever the bond that tethered them in that moment. Judy resolved not to dwell on her doubts - not now. She would have six hours in the air to unravel the significance of everything that hung between them. For now, she wanted to remain present, cherishing these final moments with Valerie, as her heart was aching at the thought of leaving.

“Of course,” Judy replied, her voice steadying as she took a deep breath, summoning every ounce of courage within her. “But first…”

With newfound determination, she gently cupped Valerie’s face in her hands, leaning in for a kiss that was anything but gentle. It was a fervent exchange, brimming with all the unspoken words and shared dreams that lingered just beyond their reach. The kiss spoke volumes, echoing their connection and the undeniable chemistry that had sparked between them. As they finally pulled apart, Judy felt the rush of emotions surging through her, each one vying for her attention.

“Something to remember me by,” she whispered, her voice barely rising above the gentle hum of the terminal.

Valerie nodded, her eyes reflecting a blend of desire and hope. Judy waved one last time, a soft smile lingering on her lips as she turned toward the security entrance. Each step felt heavy, weighted with the promise of their next meeting. Behind her, she could feel the warmth of Valerie’s gaze. Yet, when she turned to steal one final glance, her heart sank at the realization that the blue-haired woman had vanished into the throng of travelers. The space where Valerie had stood earlier felt suddenly empty, echoing the ache of departure, leaving Judy with a bittersweet longing that clung to her like a shadow.

She was gone.

Chapter Text

Chapter IV | Say Something
Maybe I'm looking for something I can't have.

Judy pushed open the door to the Dolls' locker room, the metallic creak of the hinges swallowed by the vibrant hum inside. The air was thick with the scent of sweat and disinfectant - a sharp, familiar blend that clung to the walls like an old friend. Laughter echoed off the tiled walls, mingling with snippets of conversation and the rustle of gear bags being unzipped. It was chaos, but the kind that settled into her bones and whispered, home.

"Hey, look who’s back!" Rita's voice cut through the noise, bright and teasing. She was lounging on a bench, grinning like she owned the place. Heads turned, conversations faltered, and warmth bloomed in the room as eyes landed on the team’s captain.

"Cap!" Roxanne hollered, bounding toward her with the unrestrained energy of a kid on Christmas morning. She wrapped Judy in a bear hug, nearly lifting her off the ground. "How was your break?"

Judy chuckled, squeezing her back. "It was... eventful," she replied, the word lingering on her tongue, tasting of memories she wasn’t ready to unpack. Memories of Valerie’s smirk, her touch, the way her presence filled a room and then left it hollow.

Rita’s brow arched with mock suspicion. "Eventful, huh? That sounds suspicious. Care to spill?"

Judy smirked, slipping free from Roxanne's grip and making her way to her locker. "Maybe later."

Bianca’s voice rose from the corner, bright with excitement. "Can you believe it? Spain in two weeks! Training camp and the tournament... it’s gonna be insane!"

"Insane doesn’t cover it, rook." Rita stretched languidly, arms above her head. "But we’ve been through worse."

Iris, bent over tying her cleats, chimed in, "Still wild they’re breaking the tradition and bringing two rookies. But Bakker? Girl's not even a real rookie anymore. Earned her stripes."

The sound of Valerie’s name sent a jolt through Judy, sharp and sudden, as if her stomach had flipped inside out. It wasn’t something she could control. Like a reflex, an image tore through her mind - Valerie sprawled across tangled sheets, bare skin kissed by the dim glow of the room, that unmistakable smirk curling on her lips.

But it wasn’t just a picture anymore. Judy knew the way Valerie tasted, the scent of her skin, the ghost of laughter caught in a kiss. She knew how gentle Valerie's hands could be, how they could map every line of her body with a patience that felt like reverence. She knew the soft, breathy sounds Valerie made when her mouth found the sensitive skin along her throat. And those scars - raised and rough under her fingertips - she’d traced them slowly, memorizing every inch like they told a story only she was meant to understand.

It wasn’t fantasy anymore. It was real. Vivid. Alive in her bones.

“Hey, I had a decent first season too!” Bianca exclaimed, her voice pulling Judy out of her reverie.

Iris scoffed. "Decent doesn’t top scoring leader."

Roxanne snorted. "Just don’t fangirl over Aurore when we play France, rook."

Bianca’s face turned a deep shade of red, her eyes flickering toward Judy for the briefest moment before she bolted toward the field, boots clattering against the concrete. Rita’s laughter followed her like a crack of thunder, loud and unfiltered. "Your little groupie’s got it bad for France’s golden girl." Then she shifted, eyes narrowing with a glint of mischief that set Judy’s nerves on edge. "But what about you, Cap?" her voice dropped into something silkier, slyer. "Anyone catching your eye this tournament?"

Judy met her friend’s gaze head-on, masking the sudden spike in her pulse. Rita’s smirk deepened, that smug, knowing curl of her lips making Judy’s fists itch. It was the kind of look that said - I know something you don’t want me to know. But how could she know? Judy had been careful. Careful not to linger too long on certain thoughts, careful not to let Valerie’s name slip past her lips when it wasn’t supposed to. She hadn’t told a soul.

Her fingers tightened around the laces of her cleats, pulling them taut. "What exactly are you implying?" she asked, voice measured, but her heart thudded against her ribs, loud and uneven.

Rita leaned in, close enough for Judy to catch the faint trace of her peppermint gum. Her voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. "Absolutely nothing," she purred. "Except... a little birdie told me you didn’t come straight here from Salem."

The words hit like a punch to the gut. Judy’s breath snagged in her throat. For a moment, she couldn’t move, couldn’t think - just stared at Rita, who grinned wider, basking in the small victory. And then the purple-haired defender spun on her heel, sauntering off with a careless flick of her hand, leaving Judy frozen in place, standing there like a deer in headlights.

It took a second - two, maybe three - before Judy snapped back to herself, her pulse roaring in her ears. Her hands dove into her bag, trembling, searching until her fingers closed around her phone. She yanked it free, screen lighting up with familiar notifications. She opened the thread without thinking, scrolling through the familiar sea of messages and photos they'd shared over the past two days.

There was a photo of her sprawled across the bed in Val’s Samurai shirt. She’d taken it right before drifting off, comforted by the faint scent of Valerie clinging to the fabric. Another picture - Valerie, watching the sun bleed into the water by the docks, head tilted just so. There was something quiet in that image, something that tugged sharply at Judy’s chest.

And then - a new message. A giggle bubbled up, sharp and unexpected, threatening to spill over. She bit down on her lip hard, the sting grounding her, but it didn’t stop her fingers from moving, already flying over the screen. She couldn’t help herself. Not when it was Valerie.

I kinda miss you.

Just kinda?

Nope.
I’d kill for another day like that last one.
Minus the interruption.

I miss you too, Val.

Judy’s chest tightened, a slow, steady bloom of warmth spreading beneath her ribs - a tangled knot of affection and desire that caught her off guard. Like that, it became a thing. Something they were doing from now on. Missing each other.

They’d crossed some invisible line, shifting from playful banter into deeper, uncharted territory. Not quite declarations, but close - edging toward truths Judy hadn’t allowed herself to speak in years. She hadn’t peeled herself open like this in so long, hadn’t let those heavier words - love, need, stay - form even in the quiet of her own mind. But the feeling was there, simmering beneath the surface, undeniable and insistent. Not a crush. Not some thrill doomed to burn out. It was something more, something that scared her in how natural it felt.

Amid the noise and energy surrounding her, that connection with Valerie felt like an anchor in the storm. Judy squeezed her eyes shut, drawing in a slow breath, grounding herself against the swell of vulnerability threatening to drag her under. She almost forgot what she was supposed to ask, lost in the haze of it all. But then, like a cold hand on her neck, Rita’s teasing voice slid back into her thoughts. The words churned in her gut, twisting her stomach into knots, diverting her thoughts back to the alarm set off in her head just minutes before. Had Val slipped up? Had someone seen them together? Or was Rita just poking around, looking for cracks to pry open?

Judy's mind spiraled, questions tripping over each other in a rush of panic. She wasn’t sure which was worse - that Rita might know something, or that Judy wanted to tell her everything.

Random question.
Did you mention to anyone that I was visiting you?

Sounds like there is nothing random about that question.
But nope, I didn’t. Why?

Just some weird comments from Reet.
She’s just fishing, I guess.

Am I your dirty little secret? :>

Yes. My dirty, cute, quirky, gonk secret.
Is that okay?

Sure.
You said it yourself - we don’t need to rush anything.

By the way, I have to go. Family stuff.

Be safe, Val.
Don’t do anything reckless.

Reckless? Me? Never. No fuckin’ way.
Seriously though, I’ll be careful.
Don’t worry.

A slow, unbidden smile crept across Judy’s lips, softening the tension that had knotted in her chest. She trusted Valerie, and for now, that had to be enough. Carefully, she slipped her phone back into the depths of her bag, fingers lingering for a heartbeat longer than necessary, as if the thin screen could tether her to Valerie’s warmth a moment more.

The line at Judy's favorite coffee shop inched forward, but she barely noticed. Her fingers hovered over her phone, scrolling through the same thread of messages for the third - no, fourth - time. The screen glowed back at her, stubbornly unchanged. No new notifications. No teasing texts. No Valerie.

It had been over a day now. It was unsettling.

What was once a part of Judy’s routine, a steady rhythm between them - those late-night jokes, half-sarcastic check-ins throughout the day, and the quiet comfort of knowing Valerie was just a message away - had dissolved into a silence that gnawed at Judy like a loose thread she couldn’t stop pulling.

She stared at Valerie’s last message, a brief note about handling some family issues. That was all. No details, no warning of how long she’d be gone. Just enough for Judy to start spiraling. Her thumb paused over the keyboard. She typed out everything okay? Then backspaced it. Replaced it with need anything? Deleted that too. Too clingy. Thinking about you. No. Too much.

Judy let the phone fall to her side, her grip tightening around it until her knuckles whitened. She hated this - this useless waiting, the thousand anxious possibilities running laps in her head. She knew Valerie was dealing with something important, something related to So Mi. That name hung like a shadow in the back of Judy’s mind. Valerie had mentioned her before, skimming over details like skipping stones across dark water. Someone from her past. Someone who left her behind. Judy had never pushed for more, but now her mind filled in the blanks with every worst-case scenario it could conjure.

She’s fine, Judy told herself. Valerie was strong. Fierce. She’d survived things most people couldn’t even imagine.

But that didn’t quiet the knot in her stomach.

“Latte for Judy!”

The barista’s voice broke through her thoughts. She blinked, forcing herself to move, to smile - though it barely touched her eyes - as she took the cup with a mumbled thanks. She took a deep breath and decided to give Valerie the space she needed. If she said she would be careful, Judy had to trust her.

As the day wore on, Judy found it increasingly difficult to focus on anything else that wasn’t Valerie Bakker. Minutes turned into hours, and still no response. During practice, her mind wandered, causing her to miss cues and make mistakes she normally wouldn’t. Judy’s usual edge dulled, her focus scattering like glass. Her passes lacked weight, her timing was off, and twice she lost the ball in drills she could run blindfolded.

Rita noticed, of course. Rita always noticed.

“Hey, Alvy.”

The voice came from behind her, light but edged with concern. Judy turned to find Rita, arms crossed, studying her.

“You’re off today.”

Judy gave a tired shrug. “Just distracted.”

Rita’s brow lifted. “Uh-huh. You wanna try that again but sound like you believe it?”

Judy smirked faintly, but it didn’t stick.

“Seriously, if something’s eating at you, I’m here. No judgment.”

For a moment, Judy considered it. Letting it spill out. Admitting how much this quiet from Valerie was messing with her head. But the words caught in her throat.

“Nah. I’ll be fine. Thanks, Reet.”

She wasn’t fine. By the third day of silence, Judy was anything but. Fear had crept into her chest like an insidious shadow, wrapping itself around her heart with a tightness that wouldn’t ease. The gnawing unease in her gut had taken root, growing steadily as the hours dragged on in agonizing stillness. She hadn’t bitten her nails in years, but now the habit resurfaced, every ragged tug a reflection of her growing panic.

She hated the way helplessness consumed her, how it felt to be so completely unaware. The more she thought about it, the more she realized how little she actually knew about Valerie’s past and the people in her life. Valerie had always been an enigma, a beautiful, dangerous puzzle that Judy had tried - perhaps a little too hard - to solve. But now, in this void of silence, the pieces seemed more distant than ever. Her mind, racing with worry, couldn’t help but wonder if there were anyone who could offer any sort of information on the blue-haired woman’s whereabouts.

The list for the World Championships had been released, and as expected, both her and Valerie’s names were on it. The players had access to the full roster, which showed who had already accepted the invitation, allowing reserved players to step in for those who were injured or otherwise unable to attend. Judy had seen the list more times than she cared to admit. It was almost entirely green, with confirmations from nearly everyone. But one name remained stubbornly tentative.

Judy refreshed the roster every chance she got, her fingers trembling with each click, desperate for some sign, any sign, that Valerie had made up her mind, that she had made contact. Each time, though, she was met with the same disheartening sight - Val’s avatar was blank, a void where certainty should have been.

The waiting - this endless, aching uncertainty - was eating her alive. Each hour stretched out into what felt like a century, and the ache in her chest deepened. She found herself replaying their last conversation over and over, desperately combing through each word, each look, each fleeting gesture, as though some hidden clue might reveal itself if she looked hard enough. But all she found were more questions—questions that tangled into an insurmountable knot of anxiety in her mind. And with every unanswered minute, the gnawing fear in her stomach grew stronger.

And then it reached the boiling point.

Judy stood in her bathroom, naked, her body still warm and damp from the shower. She gripped the edge of the sink with a desperation that turned her knuckles white, as if the porcelain could anchor her to the present moment and keep her from collapsing. Tears streamed down her face, hot and relentless, mingling with the water droplets still clinging to her skin. Her chest tightened, each breath coming in short, shallow gasps.

The walls seemed to close in around her, a suffocating pressure that brought with it dark memories she had long buried. She tried to ground herself, focusing on the cold tile under her feet, the harsh fluorescent light above, anything to stay in the present. But her mind was relentlessly drawn back to a haunting image - a blue-haired girl lying motionless in a tub, surrounded by a pool of blood. The scene played over and over, an unending loop of despair.

The weight of the past bore down on her, each memory a crushing blow. She remembered every detail with painful clarity - the sharp, acrid smell of bleach as she scrubbed the tub clean, the bloodied rags she discarded, the callous jokes of the NCPD officers as they packed a lifeless body into a black bag. And she just stood there, watching them joking around, unable to move a muscle, to yell at them. Shout that it was just too much. That Judy have tried to help, but failed miserably.

The pain was overwhelming, an abyss threatening to swallow her whole. Judy gazed into the mirror, desperately seeking a glimmer of resilience within the fractured reflection before her. She had survived this once before. She would survive it again. She needed her control back. But the path ahead felt daunting, the echoes of her past reverberating with an intensity that felt almost unbearable. The girl looking back seemed utterly broken, yet Judy was determined that this would not be the end of their story.

Grief would not consume her this time - she refused to lose another soul she loved. Because that was what she was feeling. After the disorienting silence and distance, she had come to realize the tumult within her heart and the flutter of hope at every mention of Valerie meant exactly that. She had fallen for Valerie, irrevocably. She reached the point of safe return already and took another step over the line with a big smile on her face, back then when she boarded plane to Night City.

Denial wrapped around her like a shroud, shielding her from the chilling thought that something might have happened to the blue-haired woman. The idea was too much to bear - she could not withstand the thought of bidding farewell to another remarkable woman who had changed her life. Valerie was a warrior, marked by scars that told tales of survival on the unforgiving streets of Heywood. Judy had heard enough of her story to know that strength coursed through Valerie's veins. She was a fighter, and there was no doubt in Judy's mind that she would navigate through whatever darkness loomed, finding her way back to Judy, no matter how dire the circumstances she faced.

With a deep, calming breath, Judy sought to anchor herself in the present moment. She needed to concentrate on the life she was building, the love blossoming within her, not the dark past. Valerie's smile flickered in her thoughts - a radiant beacon of hope cutting through the shadows. Judy clung to that image, allowing it to guide her back from the edge of despair. For now, that was enough.

Judy stepped out of the bathroom, not bothering to grab a towel as she padded across the cool floor. Her skin still glistening from the shower, the coolness of the air sending a shiver through her body. She slipped into Valerie's Samurai t-shirt, its fabric holding a faint trace of the blue-haired woman's scent - a bittersweet reminder that lingered just out of reach. The shirt hung loosely on her, almost offering a semblance of protection, yet it was insufficient against the onslaught of anxiety that loomed over her.

Dragging herself to the bed, she flopped down onto the soft sheets, hoping they might absorb some of her turmoil. Gripping her phone, she opened their conversation, a lifeline in the storm of her emotions.

Val? Are you there?

Setting the phone down, she tried to distract herself with a book, but her gaze repeatedly flickered back to the screen, yearning for the sound of a new message. Minutes turned into hours, and still, there was no reply. In a moment of determination, she resolved to call Valerie. Each ring was a heartbeat, a mixture of hope and dread. After five rings, however, the automated voice message interrupted her anticipation, a cold reminder of the distance between them.

"Please, call me, Val," she whispered into the silence, her heart aching with longing. The message lingered in the air, a fragile plea woven from vulnerability as she waited, fingers tightly gripping her phone, hoping for a response that seemed to grow more elusive with each passing second. Closing her eyes, she inhaled deeply, trying to calm the storm of anxiety within her. Valerie would reach out when she could. Until then, all Judy could do was wait, clinging to hope that everything would be alright.

Hey, you’re getting me worried.
It’s been almost a week since your last text and you’re not picking up.
Val, please let me know if everything is alright.

Judy stood alone in the dimly lit gym, where the soft hum of fluorescent lights provided the only soundtrack to her restless thoughts. It was the middle of the night, and the world beyond the windows felt distant and muted, as if wrapped in a shroud of stillness. She faced the heavy punching bag, her fists tightly wrapped, knuckles gleaming with perspiration under the harsh light. Each strike was not merely a physical blow, but an urgent release - a frantic attempt to wrestle with the swirling chaos of concerning thoughts that had settled deep within her chest.

With every jab against the weathered bag, her mind raced through a barrage of scenarios concerning Valerie’s silence. Each punch echoed her fears, a rhythmic mantra of worry. “Come on, Val,” she muttered under her breath. “Where the fuck are you?”

Each word was punctuated with a sharp jab, her frustration manifesting in the energy she expelled. The impact reverberated through her, each hit serving as an outlet for the growing tension. She imagined reaching for her phone, yearning for the reassuring ping of a message or the soothing cadence of Valerie’s voice. Yet, as the days dragged on, the absence of news gnawed at her like a persistent ache, deepening the pit of unease in her stomach.

She paused for a moment, resting her forehead against the bag, allowing the cool fabric to soothe her heated skin. The mingling scents of sweat and rubber enveloped her senses, grounding her in the present.

Judy's mind raced through a series of possible scenarios. The first and most hopeful was that Valerie was still entangled in the mess with So Mi, leaving her too preoccupied or exhausted to respond to Judy’s calls. There was also the possibility that Valerie was dealing with some other pressing issue, one she hadn't mentioned. This thought, while concerning, didn’t fill Judy with the same dread as her darker imaginings.

The second scenario, still somewhat reassuring, involved an incident where Valerie had lost her phone - perhaps during a fight or while on the run. This idea sparked a fresh surge of concern within Judy. The thought of Valerie in distress fueled her punches, each strike landing on the bag once again, but this time with renewed ferocity, the dull thuds echoing through the empty space.

The third scenario was the worst-case one - Valerie was hurt or, even worse, dead. Judy's breath quickened, her strikes becoming more frantic and desperate. The bag swayed violently, bearing the brunt of her growing anxiety. She couldn't shake the sound of Valerie's carefree laughter from her mind, a stark contrast to the oppressive silence that had taken its place. She couldn’t stop thinking of the tenderness in Valerie's gaze, the spark that had ignited between them.

“You’re strong, you’ll get through this,” Judy muttered to herself, channeling her turmoil into each punch. Every hit was a plea for Valerie’s safety, a fervent wish that she was okay.

The gym echoed with the sound of her relentless efforts. The late-night solitude amplified her fears, but she pushed through, determined to exhaust herself in the hope that, somehow, clarity would emerge from the chaos. She fought not just against the punching bag but against the suffocating weight of the unknown, clinging to the hope that Valerie would soon break the silence and bring her back to a place of peace.

And then a dangerous thought struck her like a bolt of lightning.

What if Valerie no longer wanted Judy in her life? What if her visit to Night City had changed things between them? What if Judy had been deluding herself all along? Maybe Valerie had lost interest. Maybe she was ghosting Judy on purpose. Perhaps, since the very beginning, she had only been toying with her emotions.

Judy shook her head fiercely. She refused to accept such notions. She had seen the truth in Valerie's eyes, felt it in the tenderness of her touch. Valerie had feelings for her - she was sure of it.

The final blow landed with a satisfying thud, and Judy stepped back, her breath coming in ragged gasps. Her heart pounded, not just from the physical exertion but from a fierce determination to cling to the connection they had built. She would wait for Valerie, no matter how long it took. And when they reunited, Judy promised herself, she would let her know just how much she mattered.

Judy sat at her desk, the soft glow of her laptop casting a gentle light on her troubled face in the dimly lit room. The screen displayed her travel arrangements to Barcelona, every detail meticulously filled out, sealing her commitment to the upcoming World Cup. This should have been a moment of triumph - making the roster for the tournament, likely being named co-captain, and preparing to compete with a cadre of incredible athletes at the highest level. Her dreams were materializing in front of her.

Yet, instead of the natural happiness she had anticipated, a hollow emptiness gnawed at her insides. It felt as though someone had chewed her up and spat her out, abandoning her in a dark alley to be consumed by her own frantic thoughts. She felt utterly alone, a sense of resignation settling over her like a heavy shroud.

Her eyes flickered to the other tab open on her laptop. She looked at roster again, a list of names scrolling down the screen. Each name was accompanied by a green checkmark, signifying confirmed attendance. But her gaze lingered on one entry - Valerie’s. The space next to her name remained frustratingly blank, a stark reminder that Valerie had yet to confirm her participation. With only five days left until the flight and the confirmation deadline looming just a day away, the uncertainty was unbearable.

Judy sighed deeply, a knot of anxiety twisting tighter in her stomach. She picked up her phone, her fingers moving almost mechanically as she composed another text to Valerie.

Are you going to Spain?

Please, pick up your phone.

Are you ghosting me?

She stared at the message for a long moment before hitting send, a sense of resignation washing over her. The silence from Valerie had been deafening, each unanswered message a blow to her hope. Perhaps that dangerous thought that had crept up during her late-night punching session wasn’t so far from the truth. Maybe Valerie was no longer interested in having any sort of relationship with Judy. Perhaps that beautiful adventure was over. They had their day, and now Judy would be left with nothing but memories.

With a heavy heart, she began packing her bag for the training session she was supposed to attend shortly. She methodically folded her clothes, each crease and fold a small, temporary distraction from the turmoil in her mind. The routine action felt strangely detached, almost surreal, as if she was watching herself from a distance. When she zipped up her bag and slung it over her shoulder, the weight of it seemed to press down on her even more.

Taking one last look around her apartment, Judy felt the familiar surroundings grow increasingly oppressive, the walls closing in on her. The once comforting space now seemed to mock her. Steeling herself, she stepped out of her apartment complex and into the world outside, the cool air a stark contrast to the storm of emotions raging within her. The city was alive with the hustle and bustle of everyday life, but Judy felt disconnected, her thoughts consumed by Valerie’s absence and the meaning behind that.

As she approached the facility, she took a deep breath, steeling herself for the practice ahead. Her teammates would be there, full of energy and excitement for the upcoming tournament. Judy forced a smile, determined not to let her worry show. She would push through the training, even if her heart wasn’t in it.

Judy managed to keep up her façade for another two hours. During the scrimmage, she played with an aggressive intensity that bordered on reckless, almost knocking Bianca out in the process. She scored two goals but didn’t celebrate either. After the practice, while her teammates jogged towards the locker room, she lingered on the pitch a little longer. She ran a few more laps, kicked the ball into the goal from different angles, and then stretched on the grass, trying to dissipate the restless energy swirling inside her.

By the time she finally made her way to the locker room, hoping for solitude, she was met with the unexpected sound of cascading water from the showers. Her heart sank, praying it wasn’t Rita, who had been watching her like a hawk all week, demanding answers and trying to reach out. Judy wasn’t ready to confront her. She didn’t have the strength to go through the story that unfolded since that league’s championship match. Not yet.

She glanced at her phone again, and seeing the blank screen with no new notifications, something shattered within her.

That was it. She couldn’t do this to herself anymore. She felt ridiculous, furious at herself for ever considering a relationship with Valerie. It wasn’t that hard to write a simple text, anything to confirm she was okay. Just a ping to ease her disturbing thoughts. But Valerie hadn’t done it, and unless she was dead, it meant she didn’t care. This was the end of the line.

Okay, I’m done.
Seems you weren’t worth my time.

Frustration boiled over as she threw her phone back into her bag and started shedding her sweat-soaked clothes. When she was fully naked, she grabbed a fluffy towel and walked toward the showers, the sound of running water echoing her inner turmoil.

Judy hesitated for a moment before entering the showers, bracing herself for who she might encounter on the other side of the doors. She stepped into the humid air, the steam swirling around her like a fog. As she approached the row of stalls, she noticed Bianca standing in one, fully naked. Bianca hadn't bothered to draw the curtain, probably assuming she was alone in the locker room. The water cascaded over her athletic contours, her muscles taut and defined under the soft light. The sight caught Judy off guard, but she couldn’t tear her eyes away from the view before her.

Bianca was a striking woman - smooth, polished, a beacon of warmth. She had long, thick, dark hair that often cascaded in loose waves. People naturally gravitated towards her, drawn by her radiant smile. Her eyes were a captivating green, framed by naturally arched eyebrows that added to her expressive gaze. She was everything the rough and lean blue-haired woman who had dominated Judy’s thoughts for the past months wasn’t. And she was here, in Pittsburgh, standing right in front of her, not out of reach.

Clearing her throat, Judy inadvertently startled Bianca, who spun around with wide eyes, taken aback. Instantly, she turned off the water, hastily snatching a towel to wrap around herself, her cheeks flushing a deep shade of red that contrasted vividly with her pale skin.

"Sorry," Judy murmured, a wave of guilt washing over her for both the intrusion and her earlier roughness on the field. "I didn't mean to... I just didn’t expect anyone to still be here."

Bianca managed a soft, reassuring smile, though a flicker of concern danced in her eyes. "It's alright, Judy. Honestly, I was thinking the same thing." She paused, her expression turning serious. "But… are you okay?"

Judy let out a weary sigh, her fingers raking through her damp hair as she felt the weight of the past few days pressing heavily on her shoulders. Unspoken worries and fears loomed just beneath the surface, threatening to overflow. "I've just been... dealing with some stuff. I’m sorry for earlier, I didn’t mean to play so rough. It's just that... I haven’t quite felt like myself lately."

Bianca stepped closer, her towel draped loosely, revealing more than it concealed. "I can tell something’s bothering you. If you need to talk… or blow off some steam, I’m here.”

The playful lilt in Bianca's voice gently chipped away at Judy’s defenses. A lump formed in her throat as she met piercing green eyes, which seemed to demand answers, urging her to confront what she had been avoiding for months. Bianca’s gaze lowered, lingering on Judy’s naked body with a predatory hunger. Her eyes darkened, and she swallowed hard, her desire evident.

Judy’s breath hitched in her throat. Before meeting Valerie, she had toyed with the idea of sleeping with Bianca. She knew the young black-haired woman was attracted to her - following her every move, laughing at her smallest jokes, and looking at her for just a beat too long. But as the team’s captain, Judy had resisted, keeping it out of the locker room. Now, however, feeling devastated and resigned, the thought resurfaced with renewed intensity.

Bianca stepped closer, her presence both comforting and electric. Her hand reached out, resting lightly on Judy’s shoulder, her thumb tracing gentle patterns against her collarbone. The touch sent a shiver down Judy’s spine, igniting a familiar tension of arousal in her lower belly.

She could easily stop it, but she didn’t want to. She craved the rush, the release, the thrill. She wanted to grab the smaller woman by her neck, press her against the cold tiles, and fuck her mercilessly. She wanted to hear her moan, to scream her name, to come undone over and over again. She wanted her control back. And there was nothing stopping her now. Just minutes ago, she had decided to let go of Valerie, and maybe this was the distraction she needed.

With a resolute step forward, Judy locked the doors and seized Bianca by the back of her neck, capturing her lips in a heated, messy kiss. It took the younger woman only a moment to respond, pressing herself against Judy and opening her mouth to let her explore. A rush of raw, desperate need swept through Judy as Bianca’s body melded with hers.

Judy hooked her arms around the raven-haired woman’s waist, lifting her effortlessly and pinning her against the cold wall. Bianca’s back hit the tiles with a force that knocked the breath from her lungs, but she made no sound, surrendering herself entirely, letting her captain do with her whatever she desired. That’s exactly what Judy needed - someone obedient, someone who wouldn’t talk back or shoot a witty comment. A little innocent joytoy, completely at her mercy.

Grinning, Judy pinned Bianca’s hands above her head, granting herself free access to run her lips down the woman’s jawline and neck. She sucked roughly on Bianca’s pulse point, and the younger woman couldn’t stay silent any longer. A loud whimper escaped her lips, fueling the desperate need coursing through Judy’s veins. Their bodies fused together again, the searing heat of Bianca’s skin igniting her own. This wasn’t about romance - it was about raw, unfiltered desire. Judy reveled in the thrill of making someone her plaything, abandoning all pretense of gentleness or affection.

Judy's free hand roamed over Bianca’s body, her fingers groping hot flesh and scratching every surface, eliciting a cacophony of sounds. Her touch traveled down the raven-haired woman’s hips, tracing the curve of her buttocks to the back of her thighs, then grazing along her ribcage. Bianca gasped a shuddering breath as Judy's hand moved lower. Judy repeated the motion again and again, each time bringing her fingers closer to Bianca’s pleasure point without ever quite touching them. By the time Judy was ready to move on, Bianca was trembling under her touch, moaning openly with every flick of Judy's wrist.

Judy's mouth moved from Bianca’s neck and collarbone to her full breasts, nipping roughly at the soft skin and leaving blossoming marks. The sensation had the younger woman throwing her head back with a needy groan. Sensing Bianca’s readiness, Judy ran her digits along the inside of her thigh, dipping them into her heat, first one, then two, moving and exploring. Bianca was soaking wet.

Groaning at the soft touches, she immediately ground her hips down on Judy’s fingers for more friction, but the older woman drew away completely. Judy was supposed to be the person who was setting the pace, not the other way around. She was in charge, she needed to teach the rookie a lesson. Bianca whined at the loss of contact but understood, nodding slightly and trying to stay still.

“Good girl,” Judy whispered into her ear, latching onto the side of her neck, her tongue tracing over Bianca’s jugular in a gesture of possession.

As a reward, Judy found her clit again and started rubbing hard circles into it. She smirked to herself, feeling the wetness on her hand, evidence of the profound effect she had on her teammate. The raven-haired woman wasn’t resisting the grip on her hands, wasn’t moving against the palm of Judy’s hand anymore. The power dynamic was palpable, Judy reveling in the control she held over Bianca.

"Please," Bianca breathed out, bracing herself against the wall.

Judy paused, lifting her mouth from Bianca’s neck to meet her gaze. Bianca’s eyes were darkened with lust, silently begging for Judy to take her right then and there. A flush of crimson colored her cheeks, and her mouth was slightly parted, a trickle of blood was visible on her lower lip from biting down to stifle her moans. Judy withdrew her hand from between Bianca's thighs and gently touched the injured lip. Bianca trembled, whether from the sudden loss of contact or the sensation of her own taste on her lips, Judy couldn't tell. Judy then pushed two fingers into Bianca's mouth, watching her lick them fervently. The younger woman understood that her performance was tied to the reward she craved.

Judy couldn't hold back any longer. Retracting her fingers, she kissed Bianca again, this time more gently, but with a stark contrast to the moment she pushed two fingers inside her. There was no resistance – the raven-haired woman was so wet that Judy could have easily added more. The captain’s fingers wriggled inside her, stretching her walls and moving in and out tentatively. Bianca struggled to remain still, her body betraying her with involuntary thrusts against Judy's hand. When Judy curled her fingers, the younger woman let out a strangled cry and arched her back. Jackpot, Judy thought, realizing she had hit the spot that made Bianca's hips buck involuntarily. She targeted that spot, rubbing it rhythmically, eliciting another cry and feeling Bianca's inner muscles clench around her fingers, desperate for release.

Judy reveled in swallowing the sounds escaping Bianca’s mouth. She varied her strokes, rubbing that sensitive spot every few thrusts, causing Bianca to twist her body towards or away from the touch. Judy knew she was moving too slowly to bring Bianca over the edge. She was playing with her. Bianca's legs trembled from prolonged teasing, her body quivering at the precipice of release. She pressed her head into Judy's shoulder, panting and moaning in a mix of frustration and resignation, getting close but never close enough.

"Fuck… please," she began to beg, her voice shaking.

"Shhh… Patience, you'll be there in a moment," Judy murmured into the side of her head, leaving a gentle kiss on her scalp.

Judy maintained her rhythm, sliding in and out, but after a moment added her thumb to the equation, rubbing Bianca's hardened clit. She pulled the smaller woman closer, ensuring she wouldn’t collapse as her legs shook uncontrollably.

“Y-yes… Fuck... I’m going to—”

Judy finally loosened her grip on Bianca’s wrists, letting her fingers trace a delicate path along her cheek and down to her chin, gently lifting it to direct her gaze upward. Their eyes locked, and Judy increased her pace. She watched as Bianca’s eyes rolled back, her mouth parting soundlessly. Bianca climaxed in complete silence, shuddering and shaking in Judy’s arms as her orgasm rushed through her. Judy held her firmly yet gently, supporting her through the aftershocks while continuing her thrusts.

Bianca panted, struggling to catch her breath, but showed no sign of wanting Judy to stop. This was just what Judy wanted – control. She wasn’t done playing yet. She moved down, nipping and sucking at the younger woman’s creamy skin until she dropped to her knees, never retracting her fingers from the girl’s core. The mixture of Bianca’s scent and the up-close view of her puffy, pink, glistening lips made Judy's mouth water.

She pulled Bianca closer by the waist until she had her positioned exactly where she wanted. She began to lick slowly around her fingers, eliciting a scream from the rookie. Judy moaned in response to the other woman’s taste, feeling a fist in her hair pushing her even closer. She closed her mouth over Bianca’s clit and sucked hard, the noise that escaped the raven-haired girl was almost inhuman - wild, uninhibited, raw. Judy's tongue swirled frantically, matching the relentless rhythm of her fingers.

"Yes, fuck," the younger woman breathed. "Oh, god, please."

It didn't take long to bring her back to the edge, her walls clenching and pulsing around Judy’s fingers indicating another impending climax. Judy quickened her pace, and within seconds, Bianca came undone again, screaming her captain’s name. Her grip on Judy’s hair tightened painfully as she bucked against her mouth. Judy didn’t slow down or stop, continuing to fuck her through it, sucking and licking until the last wave of pleasure ebbed, leaving Bianca a trembling mess. Pulling back, Judy licked the taste of the other woman from her lips and rose to her feet. Panting and trying to catch her breath, Bianca placed her hands on Judy’s shoulders for balance. After a moment filled only with gasps, she straightened and traced her hands down Judy’s body, following the lines of her tattoos on her neck and arms, intertwining their fingers.

As Judy looked at their laced hands, a memory flooded her mind.

Valerie’s voice echoed in her head. Suddenly, she was back in Night City, wrapped around the blue-haired woman’s body, watching the slow rise and fall of her chest, feeling the warmth radiating from her.

Goodnight, Jude.

“Do you want me to—” Bianca began, her voice trembling, pulling Judy from her reverie.

Startled, Judy took a sudden step back, disoriented. No, she wasn’t back in Valerie’s apartment, tangled in her sheets, breathing the same air as her. She was in Pittsburgh, in the Dolls’ locker room. And she had just fucked the rookie. Guilt washed over her, even though she knew Valerie no longer had any claim on her.

“No,” she said firmly, her voice tinged with an edge of panic. “I’m— I have to go.”

“Judy? What’s…” Bianca’s question lingered, unfinished, as Judy moved swiftly.

She was out of the showers in an instant, pulling on her clothes with frantic urgency and stuffing the sweaty ones into her bag. Without a backward glance, she left the locker room and stepped into the cold evening air, her breath visible in the chill. Each step away from the locker room echoed with a tumultuous mix of relief and regret. Bianca's voice faded behind her, swallowed by the quiet of the night.

Judy didn’t look back.

Judy knew she had to tell Rita the whole story. Keeping it bottled up any longer would surely make her explode. Yet, as she stood in front of her friend's door, her face soaked with tears and the bitter taste of regret lingering on her tongue, she hesitated.

Rita couldn't say anything to absolve Judy of her guilt. All she could do was hold her while she cried her eyes out. Just like she did back in Night City.

And Judy despised showing vulnerability, even in front of her closest friends. She knew it was all her fault. She had given Valerie her number, lowered her defenses, and allowed the other woman to walk into her life without truly knowing anything about her. She had fallen for her after just one day spent together. And what she found the most pathetic about the whole situation - her heart still longed for Valerie, even after almost two weeks of silence.

She made a big mess, not only in her own head. It was all her fault, and there was no denying it. And she wasn’t looking for pity. Maybe the purple-haired woman could punch some sense into her.

Without knocking, Judy stormed inside her friend’s apartment, Rita’s name already on her lips. The sight that greeted her stopped her dead in her tracks. The familiar scent of weed hung heavily in the air, and there, on the couch, sat Vanessa. Naked and languid, she was lazily smoking, her eyes half-lidded with the haze of intoxication. She looked up, surprised but not particularly concerned, as if Judy's sudden appearance was a mild curiosity rather than an intrusion.

The blonde raised an eyebrow, her gaze sliding over Judy’s tear-streaked face. “Hey,” she drawled, exhaling a cloud of smoke. “You okay, Jude?”

Vanessa was someone Judy would call Rita’s girlfriend, though their relationship had always been fluid, never confined to labels. As wide open as possible. They had met during their first year in Pittsburgh, at one of the wild parties Tom had dragged them to. In fact, it was Judy who had taken Vanessa back to her place that night, not Rita. The stunning blonde had stuck around them longer, seamlessly occupying a place within their inner circle of friends. They became close quickly and easily, even though Judy had never slept with her again. Rita, before making a move on Nessie, had even asked Judy for permission, which to this day she had found comical. Now, over two years later, Rita was wrapped around the blonde’s finger.

Judy’s eyes darted past Vanessa to the kitchen, where Rita was rummaging through a drawer, evidently looking for something important. Startled by the sound of the opening door, the purple-haired woman turned, her expression shifting from surprise to concern as she took in her friend’s appearance. “Jude, what happened?”

Judy swallowed hard, her throat tight. “Reet, I need to talk to you. It’s… it’s important.”

Rita’s brow furrowed, her eyes flicking between Judy and Vanessa. “Sure, sit.”

Judy stepped inside, her movements stiff and mechanical. She sank into the armchair, her eyes following Rita as she opened a bottle of tequila and gathered a couple of lemons from the basket on the kitchen counter.

“Gonna take a shower, give you two some privacy,” Vanessa said, standing up and stretching lazily before heading to the bedroom. She left a gentle peck on Rita’s lips and disappeared behind the doors to the other room. The apartment felt suddenly quieter, the tension in the air palpable.

Rita sat at the end of the couch, her concern deepening as she started pouring shots. She looked at Judy, her eyes filled with worry. “Jude, I’m here, talk to me. What’s goin’ on?”

Judy struggled to find the words, the weight of her confession pressing down on her. She felt a sob rising in her throat as she opened her mouth, but she fought it down, focusing on Rita’s steady presence. The purple-haired woman, fully aware of the chaos inside her friend’s head, pushed a shot glass closer to Judy.

“Drink, it’ll help,” she said firmly and sank her own shot.

Judy took the glass, her hand trembling slightly. The tequila burned as it went down, but the searing sensation steadied her, giving her the courage to speak. She looked at Rita, the words finally tumbling out, raw and unfiltered.

“I’m a mess,” she started, her voice shaking.

“I’ve known that for a while,” Rita chuckled softly. “What’s new?”

“No, I mean it… I really fucked up this time.”

“Does this have anything to do with that mysterious V?” Rita asked, leaning in closer, her eyes never leaving Judy's.

“Yup, it has everything to do with her.”

“You haven’t been yourself since you got back from Salem. I talked to Ainara, I wanted to surprise you at the airport, but she said you went to Night City. Why?”

“I went to see her,” Judy said after a short pause, feeling tears burn her eyes. “She was… Fuck. This is so hard, Reet.”

Rita nodded, her expression softening, and poured another round. Judy took it without hesitation and sank it down her throat. This time she sucked on a lemon, trying to burn out the bitterness that lingered. She took a deep breath, her heart pounding as if trying to escape her chest.

“Start from the beginning,” Rita said softly, placing a comforting hand on Judy's knee.

“That would be… well, the second match of the season,” Judy said after a moment, her fingers raking through her hair nervously. “Before you knocked her down…”

“Wait,” Rita interjected, turning towards the bedroom. “Nessie, you won! It’s fuckin’ Bakker.”

Judy looked at her, confused and not fully grasping the situation. Suddenly, Vanessa burst into the living room, now clad in a loose t-shirt and some underwear. Her long, light hair was damp, sticking to her face and the fabric of the shirt. She grinned as she sank onto the couch next to the purple-haired woman and punched her lightly in the arm.

“Told ya,” she said. “And you bet on Maiko. Silly guess. She had her in her contacts as V. That was the obvious clue.”

Then she understood. “You were… betting on who I was talking to?”

“Not only talkin’… do you want to help us solve another mystery we bet on?” Rita asked with a grin, lighting up a joint.

“We didn’t have sex, if that’s what you’re trying to figure out,” Judy sighed with resignation.

Rita laughed loudly. “Okay, we kinda knew there had to be a dealbreaker,” Nessie said with a smile. “There was a third bet, but don’t feel obligated to confirm it.”

“The fuck you talkin’ about?” Rita exclaimed, sitting up and pouring another round of drinks. “She has to spill it.”

“Gonk, she wouldn’t be here, cryin’ her eyes out, if it wasn’t true,” Vanessa retorted. “I won.”

"What’s the last bet?” Judy interjected firmly. She needed this to end - the exposure was too much. The fact that her friends had been fully aware of her turmoil somehow made it easier to speak and relive these memories, even though she knew deep down it was ridiculous. She should be furious with them. But the thing was… she wasn’t. In their own messed-up way, they had been looking out for her the whole time, not intervening, knowing she would open up when she was ready. And she needed that. She had to figure it out by herself.

Nessie and Rita exchanged glances before looking back at her, hesitant to pose the question. “Did you love her?” the blonde asked softly.

The question hung heavy in the air. Judy had admitted it to herself not long ago. She knew she had fallen head over heels for the mysterious girl who had captivated her thoughts for months. At first, she was obsessed with her raw talent, then with her piercing gray eyes, daring smirk, and toned body. In the end, it was her tender touch, confidence, and kind heart that ensnared her. But she had never said it aloud. Never told anyone else. Not even Valerie herself. But she needed to say it now, to make it real. Maybe then she could move on.

“Yes, Nessie, I love her,” she finally said, her voice breaking but resolute.

As Judy’s confession hung in the air, her friends moved instinctively. They stood up, closing the small distance between them, and enveloped Judy in a tight embrace. They whispered words of encouragement into her ear, caressed her back, and left gentle kisses on her shoulders. Judy, who had been holding back so much, finally broke down. Sobs wracked her body as she clung to her friends, the weight of her emotions finally finding release. They held her until her tears began to subside, their presence a comforting anchor she desperately needed.

When they finally parted, Rita looked at Judy with concern. “How do you think it’s going to play out when we’re in Spain?”

Judy looked up, her eyes red and puffy. “What do you mean? Valerie didn’t confirm she was coming to Spain. I haven’t talked to her in the last two weeks. For all I know, she might be… she might be dead.”

Rita’s expression shifted to one of understanding. “Hold on,” she said, moving towards the kitchen counter where her laptop sat. She brought it over and opened it, quickly navigating to a familiar page. She turned the screen towards Judy, pointing to the updated roster for the tournament.

There, highlighted in green, was Valerie’s name.

Judy’s breath caught in her throat. She stared at the screen, her mind reeling. “She’s… she’s going to be there?”

Rita nodded. “Seems like it.”

Judy’s heart pounded, a surge of panic flooding through her body. How could this be happening? She felt foolish and naïve. These past few weeks, full of worry and sleepless nights, meant nothing.

She had been consumed with fear for Valerie’s well-being, convincing herself that something terrible had happened to her. It fucked up her head, made her do things she wouldn’t normally do. The anxiety had driven her to the brink of a mental breakdown, dredging up painful memories and making her afraid to face the bathroom mirror at night, dreading to see the ghost from her past in the reflection.

As she lay awake night after night, tormented by images of two lifeless blue-haired bodies and the gnawing claws of insomnia, Valerie had been simply ignoring her. Judy’s desperate pleas for a sign of life had gone unanswered. It left her feeling worthless and discarded. She was nothing more than a passing fling, a plaything to be tossed aside once the novelty wore off. Barely another chick who almost spread her legs open for the Claws’ striker.

She wiped her eyes, trying to steady her breathing. “Pour another round,” she commanded, reaching into her back pocket for her phone. With shaking hands, she typed out the final message she would ever send to Valerie Bakker.

Fuck you, Valerie. Have a nice life.

Judy woke up to the dull throb of a pounding headache, her mouth dry and her thoughts muddled by the haze of a hangover. The first thing she noticed was the unfamiliar softness of the bed beneath her, the sheets cool against her bare skin. She shifted slightly, the faint scent of vanilla and weed lingering in the air, and then she became aware of a warm presence beside her. Turning her head slowly, she saw Vanessa lying next to her, naked, her long, light hair fanned out across the pillow.

The memories of last night were a blur, but the ache in her chest and the anger simmering just beneath the surface were all too familiar. Valerie’s name, her face, her betrayal, all flashed through Judy’s mind, reigniting the fury she had felt.

She carefully slid out of bed, not wanting to wake Vanessa. Her body protested the movement, every muscle aching as she made her way to the bathroom. The cold tile floor sent a shiver up her spine, but it was a welcome contrast to the heat of her emotions. She splashed water on her face, staring at her reflection in the mirror. Her eyes were red and puffy, her hair a tangled mess. She looked as exhausted as she felt.

Judy braced her hands on the edge of the sink, taking deep, steadying breaths. The events of last night came back in fragments - the comforting embrace of her friends, the bitter taste of tequila, and the overwhelming need to purge Valerie from her life.

“Mornin’, how’re you feelin’?”

Nessie was leaning against the doorframe, looking at Judy with concern evident in her blue eyes. She wore an oversized t-shirt, probably one of Rita’s, it hung loosely over her frame, falling just above her knees. Her hair was a mess, her lips dry, her gaze still a bit foggy.

“Like shit,” Judy replied, her voice hoarse.

She felt warm hands slip around her waist from behind, pulling her into a gentle embrace. It was a comforting touch, she simply let herself lean into it. Vanessa buried her face in the crook of her neck and pressed soft kiss against it. Then she put her head on Judy’s shoulder and watched them both in the mirror while rocking them slightly from side to side.

“Did we…?” Judy hesitated, a pang of guilt pricking at her.

“Nah, you just needed someone to hold you.”

“Where did Rita sleep?” she asked with a smile.

“On the couch,” Vanessa murmured. “She passed out when we opened the third bottle.”

“I don’t even remember the second one.”

“For a non-drinker, you put surprisingly fast pace,” Nessie chuckled as she untangled herself from the embrace.

Before Judy was able to form any sort of apology, they heard the sound of closing doors. “Breakfast arrived!” Rita’s voice revibrated through the whole apartment.

They left the bathroom and found the purple-haired woman in the kitchen, already awake and brewing coffee. The smell was both nauseating and enticing, a promise of temporary relief from the hangover. Vanessa left a peck on Rita’s lips and started unpacking the bag that was sitting at the kitchen counter.

“Morning, sleepyheads,” Rita said softly, her eyes scanning Judy’s face. “How are you feeling?”

“Dead,” Judy sighed. “And still angry as hell.”

Rita nodded, pouring a cup of coffee and handing it to her. “I figured. You want to talk about it?”

Judy took a sip of the coffee, the warmth soothing her throat. “There’s nothing more to say. She ignored me for weeks, and now she’s going to be in Spain like nothing happened.”

Rita leaned against the counter, crossing her arms. “I get it, Jude. But you need to focus on what’s ahead. We’ve got a tournament to win, and you can’t let that bitch mess with your head.”

Judy sighed, rubbing her temples. “I know. It’s just… it hurts, you know? I really thought we had something.”

Rita placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “Fuck her, she’s got nothing on you, I will rough her up during first training... Don’t worry, Jude, I’ll be there. We’ll get through it together.”

After finishing breakfast, Judy thanked her friends once more, her gratitude genuine despite the turmoil roiling inside her. Vanessa gave her a lingering hug, and Rita squeezed her shoulder, offering a silent promise of unwavering support. Once inside her own apartment, she leaned against the door, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath. The familiar surroundings offered a slight sense of normalcy, though the tension in her chest remained. She walked to the kitchen, the quiet of her place pressing in on her, a stark contrast to the emotional storm raging within.

With a sense of foreboding, she picked up her phone, the screen lighting up with a series of messages from Valerie. Judy’s heart pounded as she opened them, her eyes scanning the words quickly.

I’m sorry, Jude.
I’m so fuckin’ sorry.
But I’m no good for you.
You deserve better.

The anger she had managed to tamp down flared up anew, a scorching heat searing through her veins. With a scream of frustration, Judy hurled her phone against the wall. It shattered on impact, pieces scattering across the floor like the fragments of her broken heart. She stood there, breathing heavily, her chest heaving as the anger and sorrow battled for dominance.

The silence in the wake of her outburst was deafening. Judy sank to the floor, her head in her hands, tears mingling with the remnants of her fury. The release, though violent, brought a strange kind of clarity. She had broken the physical representation of her connection to Valerie, a symbolic severing of the tie that had caused her so much pain.

She stayed there for a while, letting the emotions wash over her, until the tears subsided and only the exhaustion remained. Slowly, she stood up, wiping her face. She looked out the window, the morning light casting a gentle glow over the city. With a deep breath, she straightened her shoulders. There was still a tournament to prepare for, a life to live, and a self to reclaim.

Chapter Text

Chapter V | Goddess
You shoulda crowned her, 'cause she's a goddess, you never got this.

Judy and Rita stood in the bustling hotel lobby, surrounded by the hum of conversation and the clatter of luggage. The lively atmosphere contrasted sharply with the tension building between them as they studied the list of room assignments posted on a large board near the reception desk. The team, as usual, was separated into pairs, two people in each room. Judy expected to see her name beside Rita's, just as it had been for every training camp before this one.

But not this time, apparently.

“No fuckin’ way,” Judy muttered, her voice low and tight as disbelief tightened her chest.

Rita, unbothered by the initial disarray, traced the list with her finger, finding her name easily. “I’m with Stout,” she said, confusion clear in her tone. She turned to Judy, her brows knitting together. “Who’re you with?”

Judy’s gaze darted back to the board, her stomach sinking as she confirmed what she’d hoped was a mistake. There it was, clear as day. “Bakker,” she said, the name falling from her lips like a curse. Dread curled low in her gut, icy and unrelenting.

She was utterly fucked.

The very last person she needed to share a room with was the Claws’ striker. The unresolved tension between them - the unspoken words, the texts Judy had sent that never got a reply, the raw emotions left to fester - threatened to close around her throat. She took a deep breath, trying to steady her nerves, but the thought of confronting the blue-haired woman, of spending the next month in such close quarters, was almost too much to bear. It felt like a punishment.

“Maybe we can switch,” Rita offered, her voice hopeful but unsure.

Judy didn’t get the chance to respond. Before the purple-haired defender could say more, a shadow fell over them, commanding their attention. Rogue Amendiares. She seemed to materialize out of nowhere, as if she’d been conjured by their mere hesitation. She wasn’t the kind of presence anyone could ignore. Her platinum hair fell in immaculate waves around her sharp features, her blue eyes as piercing as they were unforgiving. Everything about her - from the crisp set of her shoulders to the way she carried herself with an almost regal authority - demanded respect.

Rogue - better known in soccer circles as The Fixer - was a legend in her own right. She had built a reputation on salvaging sinking teams, molding them into champions with an almost surgical precision. From Brazil to Spain, the United Kingdom to Japan, her career spanned continents, each stop leaving behind a trail of transformed squads and shattered expectations. Last season, she’d set her sights on Los Angeles, and now, here she was, leading the national team.

Judy had encountered her once before - four years ago, back when she was just a wide-eyed rookie trying to find her place. That memory still sat heavy in her chest. The last World Cup. Judy had made the roster as part of the tradition – adding a promising rookie to the squad, so they can learn from more experienced players. She'd spent most of the tournament warming the bench, relegated to the shadows while the veterans took center stage. When it counted most - during that brutal quarterfinal against Japan - she’d watched helplessly as a controversial penalty shattered their dreams. It had been a hard lesson, one that still gnawed at her when she let it.

But Rogue? She’d been watching. Studying. Judy remembered the way the coach’s gaze would sweep over the field like a hawk searching for its next move, lingering on players who hadn’t even realized they were under scrutiny. Even back then, Rogue had been a force - one of the best coaches in the world.

And now, she was here, watching them with an expression that hinted at a challenge.

“No, you can’t switch,” she said, her voice cutting through the din with the precision of a blade. “Assignments are final. You’re paired by position, need to get used to a person that will be playing alongside you. This isn’t a summer camp or a couples’ retreat. You’re not here to tan under the sun, play bingo, or sip cocktails by the pool. You’re here to train and win.”

Judy braced herself, but beside her, Rita grinned like she hadn’t just been scolded. “Oh, do they have a pool?”

Rogue’s exasperation was visible, her lips pressing into a thin line as she pinched the bridge of her nose in a gesture of frustration. It wasn’t the first time Rita had tested her patience, and it wouldn’t be the last. Judy found herself chuckling despite the weight in her chest.

The coach sighed, glancing at Rita with something like resigned fondness. “Wheeler, will you ever change?”

Rita flashed a wide, unrepentant grin. “Not a chance, ma’am.”

Rogue rolled her eyes, her composure fraying. “Just get the fuck out of here. I don’t want to see either of you again until tomorrow morning.” She shifted her attention to Judy, her expression softening just enough to acknowledge her role. “Álvarez, as alternate captain, I need you in the conference room at six sharp. Your roommate won’t be here until late tonight, so I suggest you invest in or borrow some earplugs to ensure your beauty sleep isn’t disturbed.”

“Earplugs?” Rita interjected, her curiosity undeterred. “Who’s keeping you up at night, Coach? Must be a snorer!”

Rogue’s cheeks flushed a sharp red, her irritation flaring. “Get out of my face. Now.”

With no further protest, the two retrieved their keycards from the front desk and stepped into the elevator. As the doors slid shut and the car began its ascent, Judy sagged against the wall, exhaling a deep, weary sigh that seemed to pull the weight of her emotions to the surface. The tension in her shoulders was palpable, her unease written plainly across her face.

Rita placed a hand on Judy’s shoulder, her touch a quiet offering of comfort. “Hey,” she said softly, her voice calm but laced with encouragement. “It might not be as bad as you’re thinking. You could talk things out. Or, at the very least, figure out how to coexist for the next month.”

Judy nodded, though the gesture felt half-hearted, her uncertainty still lodged firmly in her chest. “Yeah… maybe,” she murmured, though the faint quiver in her voice betrayed her nerves.

When the elevator slowed at the third floor, Rita stepped out, turning back to offer a warm smile and a small wave. “You’ve got this, Alvy,” she said, her words brimming with conviction. The doors slid closed before Judy could summon a reply, leaving her alone with her thoughts and the oppressive quiet of the ascending elevator. Her fingers found the keycard in her back pocket, the slim piece of plastic feeling far heavier than it had any right to be. It was absurd, she thought, how something so small could carry so much weight - how it symbolized the unwelcome confrontation looming ahead. The inevitable talk with Valerie.

Valerie. That name itself stirred a tangle of emotions - anger, hurt, longing, and that gnawing ache of something unfinished.

The elevator chimed, announcing her floor, and Judy stepped into the hallway, her boots echoing faintly against the carpeted floor as she scanned the room numbers. Finally, her eyes landed on 516. She hesitated for a moment, her thumb brushing over the keycard before sliding it into the lock. The faint click of the mechanism sounded unnaturally loud, as if punctuating the trepidation coiled tightly in her chest. The door creaked open to reveal a room bathed in the soft glow of sunlight. The expansive windows framed a view of the sea, the horizon shimmering with hues of orange and gold as the sun began its descent.

She stepped inside and dropped her bag unceremoniously onto the floor. The bed nearest the balcony beckoned her, and she sank onto it, curling into a tight ball. Arms wrapped tightly around herself, she buried her face in her knees, as if she could somehow shield herself from the weight of reality. The prospect of sharing space with Valerie, especially under these strained circumstances, was anything but ideal. She had hoped to evade the blue-haired woman for as long as possible - ignoring her during training sessions and interacting with her only out of necessity. Yet, it seemed the universe had other plans, forcing her into a situation she was ill-prepared to face.

The wound still throbbed, achingly raw and too recent to be touched. The pain of Valerie’s abandonment an ache she hadn’t been able to dull. Judy had tried to convince herself it didn’t matter, that she didn’t care, but the truth was a thorn that refused to dislodge. The memories clung to her - Valerie’s touch, her voice, the way she had made Judy feel seen and wanted, only to leave her feeling discarded, unwanted, and utterly insignificant.

Over the past weeks, she had tried to navigate her emotions - anger, denial, even brief stints of bargaining with herself - but she hadn’t yet found her way to acceptance. Not when her mind insisted on returning to Valerie, replaying every word, every glance, every lingering moment. She hated that she still cared. Hated that she couldn’t let go. Hated that her heart betrayed her every time she thought of Valerie’s smirk, her laugh, the way she had felt in her arms.

You deserve better, Judy reminded herself, though the words felt hollow. She had whispered them to herself countless times, a mantra meant to armor her against the sting of rejection. She had convinced herself that the day they spent together meant nothing to Valerie - that she meant nothing to her. Just a fleeting distraction.

Yet, her mind stubbornly remained ensnared by thoughts of the blue-haired woman, unable to fully erase Valerie from her life. She had bared her soul to Val, allowing her defenses to crumble with surprising swiftness, only to be left shattered and heartbroken without so much as an explanation. Valerie had left - left without an explanation, without a backward glance. And still, here Judy was, caught in the aftermath, her heart too stubborn to let go. She was a goddess, wasn’t she? Beautiful, talented, someone who could have anyone. And yet, she’d fallen for someone who hadn’t even bothered to stay. Again.

And now, cruelly, fate had conspired to make them roommates for the next month.

Rising from the bed, she wandered to the balcony, the ocean breeze tugging at her hair as she stepped outside. The view was breathtaking, the sun sinking lower and igniting the water in fiery hues of orange, pink, and gold. It was the kind of beauty that demanded attention, that made you stop and remember how vast and indifferent the world was to your heartache. Judy leaned against the railing, the metal cool beneath her palms, and let the sight wash over her.

Judy's attempts to find solace in sleep were fruitless. The bed became a battleground of tangled sheets and restless limbs as she tossed and turned, unable to quell the storm raging in her mind. From the moment her head hit the pillow, her thoughts were consumed by Valerie. She had spent so long convincing herself that the blue-haired striker was in some kind of danger, clinging to the irrational hope that seeing her safe and whole would silence the flood of doubts raging in her thoughts. But beneath that fragile hope lay the undeniable truth - Valerie had never been in danger. She had never been caught in some twisted plot. No, Val’s silence had been a choice, deliberate and final, and Judy was left to grapple with the weight of it alone.

Another restless turn brought her eyes to the glowing red digits of the clock on the nightstand. Two in the fucking morning. The numbers blinked back at her with quiet indifference, a mocking reminder of the few hours left before dawn would drag her into another day she wasn’t ready to face. Frustration welled up inside her, a slow burn that she couldn’t extinguish, and she clenched her jaw, cursing herself for caring so much.

Then, a sound. A faint creak, barely audible, yet it sliced through the thick stillness of the room like a blade. Judy froze, her pulse hammering in her ears. Her heart, already heavy with too many emotions, sank deeper with foreboding as she recognized the shadowy silhouette by the door. Ice curled in her veins, and instinctively, she squeezed her eyes shut, feigning sleep with slow, measured breaths. If she pretended hard enough, maybe Valerie would just disappear. Maybe it was all just another fragment of her strained imagination.

But the illusion shattered when the door groaned again, this time louder, followed by a soft thud and a whispered string of curses that punctuated the silence. Valerie’s voice, familiar and edged with annoyance, cut through Judy’s defenses like a knife through silk. She jolted upright, fumbling for the lamp, fingers trembling as she flicked the switch. Harsh, artificial light flooded the room, chasing away the shadows and exposing everything in unforgiving detail.

Valerie stood in the middle of the room, a far cry from her usual poised self. Her blue hair was a chaotic mess, strands sticking out in every direction, and dark circles marred the space beneath her eyes. She looked exhausted, worn down to the bone, yet despite it all, a sheepish smile crept onto her lips, slow and uncertain. Her gaze locked onto Judy, lingering in a way that sent an unwelcome shiver down her spine.

“Sorry for waking you,” Valerie mumbled, rubbing the back of her neck, her voice laced with exhaustion and something dangerously close to relief. “Didn’t mean to... I must’ve hit something on my way in.”

Judy’s eyes narrowed, the weight of Valerie’s presence pressing down on her like a physical force. The anger she had clung to so fiercely wavered for a fleeting second, replaced by an unwelcome pang of sympathy. But just as quickly as it surfaced, she shoved it aside.

“Yeah,” Judy muttered, her voice rough from disuse. “It’s fine. Just... maybe be a little quieter next time?”

Valerie nodded, her smile faltering as she moved toward the bed beside Judy’s. Every step she took was sluggish, heavy with fatigue, and Judy watched, unable to look away as Valerie began to undress with slow, methodical movements. The hoodie slipped off first, followed by the jeans, then the t-shirt, each item of clothing discarded without thought. Now standing in nothing but her underwear, Valerie rummaged through her bag with a kind of absentminded exhaustion, oblivious to Judy’s unwavering gaze.

Judy’s breath hitched as her eyes landed on a fresh scar marring Valerie’s abdomen - an angry, red line that stood out against her pale skin, stitched together in a crude, almost desperate fashion. Something deep within Judy twisted at the sight, dangerous cocktail of concern and frustration she couldn’t afford to entertain. She wanted to ask, to demand an explanation, but the words stuck in her throat, choking on the remnants of her pride.

Instead, she turned away, her eyes finding solace in the dark horizon beyond the balcony window. The waves rolled in steady and indifferent, their rhythm a stark contrast to the chaos simmering beneath her skin. Out of sight, out of mind, she told herself, forcing her breathing to slow, willing the thoughts to dissipate into the night. Sleep was a priority, and she couldn’t afford to let her curiosity or her suddenly dry mouth distract her.

Judy woke with a low groan, the weight of a restless night still clinging to her limbs like a stubborn fog. She blinked groggily, adjusting slowly to the morning light spilling through the balcony windows. The room was bathed in a muted glow, soft and golden, dust motes drifting lazily in the quiet air. She shifted slightly, feeling the familiar stiffness in her shoulders, the residual tension from a night filled with uneasy dreams.

Turning her head, her gaze landed on Valerie sprawled across the bed beside her, limbs thrown in every direction in a position that was both absurd and oddly endearing. Her hair was a tangled mess against the pillow, fanning out in wild disarray, and her lips were parted slightly, a small glistening smudge of saliva pooling at the corner. Judy couldn’t help the warm smile that tugged at her lips, a flicker of amusement breaking through the lingering weight in her chest. In sleep, Valerie looked so unguarded, so far removed from the sharp edges that usually defined her. For a moment, Judy allowed herself to just watch, committing the sight to memory—the soft rise and fall of Val’s chest, the way the morning light caught in the strands of her hair, the slight twitch of her fingers as she dreamed. There was something fragile in it.

A fleeting sense of peace settled over her, rare and delicate, but she knew better than to hold onto it for too long.

Carefully, she slipped out of bed, moving with the precision of someone accustomed to sneaking away unnoticed. Judy reached for a hoodie draped over the chair, tugging it over her head before tiptoeing toward the door. Valerie didn’t stir, she was still blissfully unaware of the other woman's gaze. Judy's fingers grazed the handle, but before she could slip out, something caught her eye. Valerie shifted in her sleep, her shirt riding up just enough to reveal an angry red wound slashed across her abdomen. Judy froze, her breath catching in her throat. Where had she gotten that? What had happened? The questions slammed into her, one after another, a rapid-fire interrogation her mind wasn’t ready to face. Did it happen because of So Mi? Was she in pain?

Judy clenched her jaw, tearing her gaze away. The answers weren’t hers to know. They shouldn’t be. Valerie wasn’t hers to worry about anymore. She had made that clear when she left. It was none of Judy’s business. It shouldn’t hurt the way it did. She pressed her lips into a thin line, pushing the ache back down where it belonged.

With a quiet sigh, she slipped out into the dimly lit hallway, closing the door softly behind her. The hotel was wrapped in an early morning hush, punctuated only by the distant murmur of voices and the soft hum of a housekeeping cart rolling down the corridor. Judy walked briskly, her footsteps light, each step carrying her further from the thoughts she didn’t want to confront.

By the time she reached the stairs, the weight in her chest had shifted into something more manageable, something she could tuck away for later. The upcoming briefing loomed ahead, a welcome distraction, something she could throw herself into instead of dwelling on blue-haired woman and aching wounds.

When she stepped into the conference room, the harsh fluorescent lighting cut through the remnants of morning haze, forcing her to blink and adjust. Her heart sank slightly at the sight of the only other person in the room - Meredith Stout. Judy squared her shoulders instinctively, a small knot of apprehension coiling in her stomach despite the countless times she reminded herself they weren’t rivals anymore.

Meredith was intimidating, to put it mildly. She stood at least a head taller than Judy, with her usual imposing presence, broad-shouldered, her sharp gaze like a scalpel that cut through everything it landed on. There was an effortless authority about her, a quiet confidence that demanded respect, and perhaps a little bit of fear. Judy had no desire to test her patience.

Swallowing down the tension creeping up her spine, Judy forced a polite smile and cleared her throat. "Good morning."

Meredith’s piercing eyes flicked up to meet hers, assessing for a moment before the hardened edge in her expression softened - just a little. She gave a curt nod. "Morning, Álvarez."

The simple acknowledgment carried a weight that Judy couldn't quite place, but she took it for what it was. With a deep breath, she stepped further into the room, pushing aside everything else. Valerie, the confrontation, the unspoken questions - they would have to wait. For now, there was work to be done.

The conference room was eerily quiet, save for the low hum of the air conditioning, filling the silence like white noise. Judy stepped further inside, her footsteps echoing lightly against the polished floor as she made her way to the front row of chairs. Meredith, already seated, was meticulously scrolling through notes on her tablet. Judy couldn't help but envy the woman's composure, the way she carried herself with an effortless authority Judy often struggled to find in herself. She rubbed her eyes, stifling a yawn as the weight of last night pressed down on her shoulders.

Sliding into the seat beside Meredith, Judy rolled her neck, trying to shake off the grogginess clinging to her.

"Jet lag?" the defender asked, her voice low but not unkind.

"Probably," Judy muttered, rubbing her temples. "And your rookie waking me up in the middle of the night."

Meredith's brow arched slightly, her expression unreadable. "Bakker is here?"

"Yeah," Judy said, watching her closely. "You didn’t know if she was going to show?"

Meredith exhaled, rising to her feet and heading toward the coffee table. "We’re not exactly close," she admitted, pouring herself a cup. "But I tried calling her when I noticed she hadn’t confirmed. Figured she was caught up in... other things." She hesitated, eyes flicking toward Judy before adding, "There have been rumors."

Judy tensed, her stomach twisting. "What rumors?" she asked, her voice coming out tighter than she intended. She cursed herself internally - she wasn’t supposed to care, wasn’t supposed to let it show. And yet here she was, letting Meredith Stout of all people see her raw edges.

Stout stirred her coffee, her silence hanging heavy before she spoke. "That she’s not coming back next season."

Judy’s breath caught. "You mean... she signed with another team?" she asked, the words tasting bitter on her tongue.

"No," Meredith said plainly. "I mean, she’s not coming back at all."

Judy felt something inside her sink, heavy and cold. Valerie’s sudden disappearance and the rumors painted a picture far darker than she had imagined. She swallowed hard, fists clenching beneath the table, trying to ground herself before the rush of emotions could sweep her away. There was so much she wanted to ask, but before she could, the door swung open. Rogue strode in first, her steely demeanor as imposing as ever. Regina followed close behind, a sharp contrast to the head coach’s intensity with her pragmatic calm. Lucy Kushinada, the team’s other alternate captain, entered last, a step behind the others, her sharp gaze scanning the room.

"Mornin’," Rogue said, her voice clipped and to the point. "Let’s get down to business. We've got a lot to cover and not much time."

Judy sat up straighter, forcing herself to refocus as Regina began running through the agenda, detailing the grueling schedule ahead. Training sessions stacked on top of strategy meetings, video analysis briefings, and conditioning drills - all meticulously planned to ensure peak performance for the tournament. Judy nodded along, taking notes, but her mind kept drifting back to the weight of Meredith's words, to the nagging ache in her chest that wouldn’t quite subside.

The sharp blast of the whistle cut through the crisp morning air, signaling the start of the scrimmage. Judy’s gaze instinctively darted across the pitch, landing on the familiar figure standing on the opposite side. Valerie stood with her hands on her hips, legs slightly apart, a picture of unwavering focus. Her blue hair, damp with sweat, clung to the nape of her neck, stray strands framing her face in a way that made Judy’s stomach twist. Sunlight glinted off the beads of sweat gathering at her brow, highlighting the intricate tattoos snaking up her forearms where she’d rolled up her sleeves.

A shiver ghosted down Judy’s spine as she recalled the photo Valerie had sent her, a memory that seemed like it belonged to another lifetime. Even though she hadn't looked at it in weeks, it remained imprinted in her mind, an insistent echo that surfaced at the worst possible times. Judy exhaled sharply, forcing air deep into her lungs, willing the distraction away. Not now. Not here. With a quick shake of her head, she jogged toward the left flank, her cleats biting into the turf with each determined stride.

As the inaugural training session of the camp commenced, an air of competitive eagerness enveloped the field. Every player was eager to display their skills and secure a spot in the starting lineup. Rogue, ever the strategist, had orchestrated a high-stakes matchup - her team’s premier defense against the elite offense, a duo of which Valerie and Judy were the linchpins. Judy squared her shoulders, burying the emotional turbulence beneath layers of grit and focus. Whatever had happened between them off the field had no place here. Here, there was only the game.

As the minutes passed, it became evident that, despite everything, she and Valerie were a formidable force. They moved together with an effortless synchronicity, their connection a seamless thread woven through each pass, each sprint, each goal. It was as if the ball was drawn to them, obeying their unspoken commands, dancing between their feet with an almost sentient grace. The defenders – led by Stout and Rita - fought tooth and nail, but they struggled to keep up with the duo’s relentless tempo. They pressed hard, closed passing lanes, forced Judy and Valerie into tight spaces, but it wasn't enough. No matter how well they anticipated, Judy and Valerie were always one step ahead, their instincts too honed.

Judy could feel it - the intoxicating rush of perfect synergy. Valerie was always exactly where she needed her to be, reading her movements, responding before Judy even had to think. They dribbled past defenders with ease, weaving intricate patterns through the opposition, leaving a trail of frustrated shouts and hurried footsteps in their wake. Even their blind passes found their mark with a kind of inevitability that defied logic. It was chemistry, pure and simple.

From the sidelines, Rogue and Regina watched with narrowed eyes, nodding occasionally, the weight of their approval tangible in the air. Each goal, each perfectly timed run, each effortless combination between Judy and Valerie was a silent testament to what they could achieve - if they could keep their personal history from bleeding onto the pitch.

As the training session dragged toward its grueling conclusion, Judy felt like her chest might explode, each breath ragged and raw, her lungs waging a losing battle against exhaustion. The relentless tempo of the scrimmage had worn her down to the bone, but it was Valerie - gliding through the pitch like a streak of blue lightning, her hair cascading behind her in a mesmerizing display - who truly tested her limits. She was relentless, elusive, and utterly untouchable. Judy had pushed herself to match that tempo, her muscles screaming in protest, yet she refused to yield. Not when Valerie moved like that. Not when the stakes felt so damn personal. So, she was performing at a level that perhaps rivaled her best, driven by sheer willpower.

But even through the blur of fatigue, Judy caught the first signs of the storm brewing before anyone else. Her gaze flicked to Rita, taking in the small but telling shifts in her stance - the slight hitch in her step, the growing rigidity in her posture, her movements losing their usual fluidity, becoming choppy, reactionary. Judy had seen it too many times before. Valerie's constant assault was wearing her down, striking at the cracks in Rita’s usually unshakable defense. The tightening of her jaw, the twitch in her fingers - little warnings that spelled trouble.

Judy could practically see the frustration creeping up her friend’s spine, knotting tighter with each missed tackle, each failed interception. And she knew how this would end. It was an old pattern, one she could predict with unsettling accuracy. Rita’s patience was a fuse, and when it ran out, there was only ever one reaction - aggression. Judy braced herself, instinct telling her it was just a matter of time before the purple-haired woman snapped. Before she lunged in too hard, too reckless, driven more by frustration than tactics.

Valerie, oblivious or perhaps indifferent to the warning signs, surged forward again, her steps fluid, predatory. She danced past Rita with a finesse that seemed almost effortless. The storm Judy had anticipated struck without warning. Rita’s elbow lashed out with brutal force, catching Val squarely across the face in a sickening impact that echoed across the field like a gunshot.

Judy’s heart plummeted into a pit of despair as she watched Valerie stagger and collapse to the ground, her body folding in a crumpled heap. The game seemed to freeze, a collective gasp of shock hanging in the air as the blue-haired forward lay there, her face twisted in agony. Blood trickled from a gash on her lip, painting a stark red streak against her pallid skin.

"Take it down a notch - this is just practice!" Rogue's voice cut through the silence like a whip, but it did little to deter the inevitable. Valerie, fueled by something far darker than pain, shoved herself upright, eyes blazing with a fury. The field erupted into chaos as Valerie lunged at Rita, fists clenched and ready to strike.

Judy moved without thinking, her pulse roaring in her ears. She reached Valerie in a heartbeat, hands gripping her shoulders, desperate to restrain the cyclone brewing beneath the surface. "Bak—" she started, but before she could finish, the other woman lashed out blindly, her head snapping back. The sharp crack of bone against bone sent Judy stumbling, a searing pain blooming across her cheek as blood smeared hot against her skin.

Still, she held on.

"Fuck's sake, Valerie, calm down!" Judy hissed, tightening her grip, her arms locking around Valerie's torso in a desperate embrace. Val thrashed against her, raw fury burning through every muscle as she fought to break free, but Judy didn't let go.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Stout dragging Rita away, the defender's face marred with guilt and something deeper - regret, perhaps. Rogue and the others trailed behind, their expressions a mix of tension and relief as they herded Rita to the sidelines. The field felt emptier now, leaving Judy and Valerie alone in the aftermath of the chaos.

Judy pressed her forehead against Valerie’s shoulder, her voice dropping to a low whisper. "It’s over, Val. Let it go." The familiar nickname, the steady weight of Judy's presence, seemed to cut through the haze of Valerie’s rage, her thrashing gradually subsiding as the adrenaline began to drain from her veins. Slowly, the tension in her body ebbed, but Judy’s embrace remained firm and unyielding.

For a moment - just a moment - Judy allowed herself to feel it. The warmth of Valerie’s body pressed against hers, the way her scent, familiar and intoxicating, wrapped around her like a ghost of something lost. It was overwhelming, stirring something deep in her chest that she couldn’t quite name. And just as quickly, she pushed it aside.

She loosened her hold, stepping back, and Val turned, her expression shifting from anger to something rawer. Her eyes widened in horror as they fell upon Judy, whose face was streaked with blood from the earlier sucker punch.

"Judy, shit—I'm so sorry," Valerie whispered, her voice thick with remorse. Her hand trembled as she reached out, fingers hovering just above the wound she had inflicted. But Judy flinched away, her gaze hardening, the ache in her chest far deeper than the physical pain.

Without a word, she turned on her heel and walked away, each step deliberate, her back rigid with the weight of everything she couldn’t say. Valerie’s voice, desperate and pleading, followed her. "Jude, please..."

But Judy didn’t stop. She kept moving, her strides purposeful as she neared the sidelines. The others watched her approach, concern etched across their faces, but Judy ignored them all. Her gaze locked onto Rita, a silent, simmering storm of emotions brewing behind her eyes.

And for once, Rita looked away first.

Judy eased herself into the ice bath with a sharp, involuntary gasp, the frigid water swallowing her whole in a merciless, numbing embrace. The sting of the cold was immediate, shocking her system, but she forced herself to endure it, to let the icy tendrils weave their way into her aching muscles. Pain radiated through her body, a dull, throbbing reminder of the brutal scrimmage - the relentless exertion on the field, the crushing tackles, and the brutal punch that had nearly broken her nose. But the physical wounds were nothing compared to the deeper ache that gnawed at her, an exhaustion that burrowed into her bones and refused to let go.

She leaned back against the edge of the tub, closing her eyes as she tried to steady her ragged breathing, focusing on the rhythmic rise and fall of her chest. But no amount of deep breathing could dispel the storm brewing in her mind.

The contrast of Valerie's warmth against the icy water was almost unbearable, an aching reminder of what had been, of what could never be again. The heat of Val’s body so close, the brief but charged contact that had left her feeling vulnerable and disoriented. Valerie's apology, whispered amidst the chaos, had been so fervent, so painfully sincere that it had cut deeper than the blow itself. Judy could see it in her eyes - the unspoken regret, the weight of all that had gone unsaid. But the punch, the scrimmage, the raw frustration - they were only symptoms of something far more profound. It wasn't just that sucker punch on the field that Valerie needed to atone for - it was the weight of everything that had transpired between them before – a festering wound of abandonment, the deafening silence that had followed.

A shiver coursed through her, but it wasn’t from the cold. It was the memory of betrayal, of trust shattered into fragments too small to piece back together. Valerie had walked away once, leaving Judy to gather the remnants, to bear the weight of what they had been alone. And now, she was trying to claw her way back, but Judy couldn't - wouldn't - let her. Forgiveness seemed a distant possibility, if it was to come at all. The wounds were too raw, the hurt too deep, and Judy was resolved to keep her walls firmly in place.

As Judy wrestled with the tangled web of her thoughts, striving to dispel the echoes of lingering affection and pain, drown them in the icy water, the door to the medical room creaked open. Bianca stepped in, her face framed by a cascade of dark curls, her expression etched with concern as her eyes fell upon the sight of her captain submerged in the frigid bath.

A lump formed in Judy’s throat, her pulse quickening at the unexpected intrusion. Since that night in the showers, the silence between them had grown heavy, stretched taut by unanswered questions and lingering tension. Judy felt the familiar pang of guilt gnawing at her ribs, knowing she had used Bianca’s vulnerability, had sought comfort in her touch only to vanish, leaving the rookie with nothing but confusion and unfulfilled promises. The irony was bitter. Judy had despised Valerie for walking away, for leaving her in the dark without a word - but now, she was no better. She had done the same to Bianca, left her to wrestle with feelings Judy wasn't ready to confront.

She owed Bianca something - an explanation, an apology, the truth, no matter how painful it might be. But could she give it? Or was she too much a coward to face what she had done?

Bianca's voice sliced through the heavy silence, soft yet unwavering, a stark contrast to the oppressive quiet that hung between them. "Hey," she said, stepping closer, the warmth in her tone a soothing balm Judy wasn’t sure she deserved. "I saw what happened out there. How are you holding up?"

Judy shrugged, her expression carefully composed, though inside, the storm raged on. "I'm fine," she murmured, her voice a tightrope walk between detachment and the truth that threatened to unravel her. She knew Bianca could see through the façade, could feel the tension humming beneath her skin, but Judy wasn’t ready to give it voice.

"Are you sure? It looked... pretty rough."

Judy exhaled sharply, a touch of annoyance flickering across her face before she looked away. "I'll be okay. It's just... one more thing to deal with." The words felt hollow even as she spoke them.

Bianca didn’t push. Instead, she settled into the chair nearby, her watchful eyes never leaving Judy. The unspoken weight between them grew heavier, pressing down on Judy’s chest, squeezing the air from her lungs. For a moment, the echoes of the day’s chaos and the sting of Valerie’s actions began to recede into the recesses of Judy’s mind.

She knew they couldn't keep skirting around it forever. "Look, Bee," Judy began, her voice trembling, raw and unsteady. "We need to talk about what happened."

Bianca's cheeks flushed a deep crimson, her eyes darting away for a moment before meeting Judy’s again, vulnerable and open. Judy could see it - the relentless replay of that night behind Bianca’s eyes, the searching for fault, for missteps, where things might have gone wrong. But Judy knew the truth. The blame lay solely with her. On her selfishness, anger, and unresolved hurt that had driven her to make a grievous mistake that night.

"I was..." Judy started, the words sticking in her throat like shards of glass. She stumbled over her thoughts, struggling to articulate the weight of her regret. "I... ugh. Fuck."

Bianca shook her head gently, her voice barely above a whisper, almost resigned. "We don’t have to talk about it, Judy. I get it."

"No," Judy’s reply was sharp, final. Her eyes burned with unshed emotion. "We have to. I made a mistake. I don't want to mislead you. This... this was a one-time thing. It won’t happen again."

She watched the hurt bloom across Bianca’s face, the slight sag of her shoulders, the way her hands trembled in her lap. Judy felt the weight of it settle deep in her gut, an ache that gnawed at the edges of her conscience. Power over Bianca once felt intoxicating, but now, it was suffocating.

She longed to retreat to the sanctuary of her bed, to curl into a tight ball and escape the reality she had crafted. Yet, there was no solace there. She was sharing that space with someone she didn’t really want to see right now. An impending conversation with Valerie loomed in her mind, unavoidable and oppressive. As roommates, they were bound to confront each other, and Judy knew evasion was impossible. But she wanted to avoid it for as long as she could.

Bianca’s voice wavered, brittle as cracked glass. "Did I... did I do something wrong?"

The question pierced Judy’s resolve. She climbed out of the icy bath, each movement heavy with remorse, and approached the distraught woman. Her guilt was a tangible ache, a visceral pang that tightened her chest. Seeing Bianca in such distress, Judy felt like a monster, mirroring the same cruelty she had endured from Valerie. The thought struck her with painful clarity - perhaps she and Valerie were two sides of the same coin, destined to inflict pain and suffering, not only upon each other. It was a bitter realization, but one she could not ignore.

"No, you didn’t do anything wrong," Judy's voice was a whisper, an apology wrapped in tenderness. She took Bianca’s trembling hand into her own, the warmth of her touch a stark contrast to the lingering chill of regret. "This is all on me. I shouldn’t have— I’m sorry. I’m so fuckin’ sorry, Bee."

A single tear slipped down Bianca’s cheek, and instinct took over - Judy brushed it away with a gentle touch, the intimacy of the gesture more painful than comforting. Their eyes locked, and before Judy could react, the raven-haired woman leaned in, pressing a tentative kiss to her lips. The contact was soft and unexpected. For a moment, Judy let herself drown in it - until reality crashed back in, sharp and unrelenting. She pulled away abruptly, regret pooling in her chest. The sob that escaped Bianca’s lips broke Judy’s heart.

Judy didn’t hesitate. She wrapped the rookie in her arms, holding her tight, her fingers tracing soothing patterns along her back, whispering apologies that felt hollow in the face of the damage done. She held on until Bianca’s breathing steadied, until the shuddering sobs faded into quiet acceptance.

"Do you... regret it?" Bianca's voice was so small, so uncertain, it nearly shattered Judy.

The question hung in the air, heavy and suffocating. Judy needed time, needed space to untangle the mess of emotions inside her.

Did she regret it? The answer wasn’t simple, and that scared her. Even back then, she knew in her heart that a relationship with Bianca was an impossibility. The truth was, she had used Bianca to quiet the ache Valerie had left behind, to fill the hollow spaces within her, if only for a moment. She played with her emotions for her own gain. And for that, she despised herself.

She should regret it. But she didn’t. And that was the worst part of all.

She accepted, with grim honesty, that deep down, she was capable of cruelty, a monster of her own making. It helped her, even though consequences for Bianca were grim. She was no better than Valerie, but she wanted to avoid causing further harm.

So, she lifted her gaze and chose to lie.

Judy dragged herself back to her room, each step heavier than the last, her body aching from the brutal training session and her mind reeling from the conversation with Bianca. The exhaustion settled deep in her bones, but it was nothing compared to the weight pressing down on her chest - the inevitable confrontation with Valerie looming like a storm on the horizon. She felt stretched thin, frayed at the edges, and in no state to wade through the tangled mess of betrayal and unspoken truths that lingered between them.

Her thoughts churned restlessly, conjuring scenarios she wished she could suppress. In one, they screamed at each other until their voices were raw, the air thick with accusations and bitter truths laid bare. In another, far more preferable, they retreated into the silence, each too weary to bridge the distance growing between them. She knew, however, that the latter was less likely. The quiet wouldn’t last.

The door creaked softly as she pushed it open, and her breath hitched at the sight before her. Valerie stood on the balcony, the glow of the city lights spilling over her figure, a phone pressed to her ear. Her back was turned to the room, but the tension in her shoulders was unmistakable. Judy lingered in the doorway, watching the rigid set of Valerie’s spine, the way her free hand clenched the railing tight. She was speaking in low, clipped tones, and though Judy couldn’t catch every word, the weight of the conversation seeped into the air like a heavy fog.

“Don’t bullshit me, Sol... You know I never wanted that... Did it all for her and now you’re telling me she’s still trapped... We shouldn’t have done it... Yeah, try it sometime. Might discover somethin’ wonderful about it..."

Judy’s stomach twisted at the raw edge in Valerie’s voice, a strange blend of frustration and regret that cut deeper than she expected. She didn’t want to hear any more. Not when the exhaustion gnawed at her resolve like an unrelenting tide. Moving quickly, she slipped towards the wardrobe, pulling out a fresh t-shirt with careful, quiet movements. Clutching the fabric, Judy padded silently across the room and slipped into the bathroom, closing the door behind her. She leaned against it, pressing her forehead to the cool wood, breathing deep in an attempt to steady herself. But even through the door, Valerie’s voice hummed in the background, carried in fragments, each syllable pressing against her like an unwanted intrusion.

She slipped out of her clothes and stepped into the shower, letting the warm water cascade over her skin. The sensation was soothing, a brief reprieve from the chaos circling inside her head. She closed her eyes, wishing the water could wash away the tension, the fatigue, the gnawing ache in her chest that refused to subside.

But no matter how long she stood there, the weight remained. Minutes passed, the steam curling around her like a fragile cocoon. She pressed her forehead against the tiled wall, letting out a shuddering breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. The tears came unbidden, mingling with the water as they slid down her face, silent and unnoticed in the stream. She took deep, steadying breaths, trying to center herself, but the emotional weight was relentless. She was caught between the need to confront her feelings and the overwhelming desire to escape, to find a moment of respite from the chaos. She stayed like that, chasing the illusion of peace, until the water began to cool and she had no choice but to face the reality waiting outside.

She toweled off with slow, deliberate motions, catching a glimpse of herself in the mirror. The reflection staring back was a stark reminder of the day’s toll - dark circles under her eyes, a faint bruise blooming where Valerie’s head had knocked into her during training. With a sigh, she pulled on the t-shirt, the fabric soft and familiar against her skin, offering little comfort but enough to carry her forward.

Steeling herself, Judy opened the door and stepped back into the room. Valerie was sitting on the edge of her bed, the muted glow of the TV casting flickering shadows across her face. Her gaze shifted as Judy entered, locking onto her with an intensity that made Judy’s breath catch. There was no lust in Valerie’s eyes, no teasing glint - only regret, and something softer. Something like concern.

“Hey,” she said, her voice quiet, almost hesitant. “I didn’t notice when you came back.”

Judy forced a small, tired smile, moving past her with purpose. “Yeah,” she replied, her voice level but distant. “Didn’t want to disturb you.”

Judy perched on the edge of her bed, the binder Regina had handed her earlier resting heavily in her lap. Its weight felt disproportionate, stuffed with notes on strategies, rival statistics, and intricate formations - all the information she needed to prepare for the upcoming tournament. She hoped diving into its pages would provide some reprieve from the tension thickening the air around her. But before she could so much as flip the cover open, the soft click of the television shutting off snapped her attention away. Valerie shifted closer, the mattress dipping beneath her, until she sat just inches away, their knees nearly brushing. The proximity sent a shiver of awareness through Judy, tightening her grip on the binder.

"Can we talk?" Valerie's voice was quiet, hesitant, and when Judy met her gaze, she felt a familiar sense of vertigo. Those stormy gray eyes had a way of pulling her under, making her feel like the ground beneath her feet was unsteady, the walls closing in.

This was it - no more running, no more putting it off. The confrontation was inevitable. Unless...

"No." The word left Judy's lips like a knife, sharper than she intended.

Valerie flinched, just slightly, but she didn’t retreat. "Jude, please..."

"No!" Judy's voice cracked through the room like a whip, her chest tightening. "And don’t you fuckin’ Jude me. You lost that right weeks ago."

Valerie's lips parted, her face softening with something that almost looked like regret. "I'm so fuckin' sorry, Judy. I just... I want to explain."

A lump rose in Judy's throat, heavy and aching. She wanted to drown Valerie's words out, to bury the hurt deep and never let it see daylight again. But she needed to hear it, didn’t she? She needed to understand why, even if it meant unraveling all over again. Right now, she was convinced everything between them had been a game to Valerie, something fleeting, something disposable. The air grew thick, suffocating, pressing in on her from all sides.

"We’re way past apologies, Val," she said, crossing her arms tightly over her chest, as if to brace herself for the inevitable letdown. "They won’t fix what you did."

Valerie exhaled, her voice low, tinged with something Judy couldn’t quite place. "It’s fucked up, I know, but... I couldn’t contact you. It would’ve put you in danger."

Judy let out a bitter laugh, her head tipping back against the wall. Deep inside, she knew she wouldn’t get a real explanation. Valerie would dance around the truth, bending it to make her actions seem like they were meant to protect Judy, that she never wanted to hurt her. A noble sacrifice. But Judy wasn’t buying it. She wouldn’t let Valerie lead her on again. It seemed all the blue-haired striker wanted was to get into her pants, worm her way back in, no matter what lies she had to tell.

"Are you fuckin' serious right now?" The mixture of pain and anger in her voice surprised even herself. "You don’t get to hurt me and then pretend it was for my own good. Enough of that bullshit. I know the truth - you were done playin’ with me. I was just... a distraction."

Valerie’s shoulders sagged, her face crumpling like she was finally beginning to feel the weight of her choices. "No, Judy, I never meant to—"

"Save it," Judy interrupted, her voice steady and resolute. "I’m done listening. You were right about one thing—I deserve better. And I’ll find someone who isn’t a fuckin’ coward. Someone who won’t break my heart."

A flicker of something crossed Valerie's face - pain, regret, maybe both. She sighed, dragging a hand through her hair, her fingers clenching into fists in her lap.

"This wasn’t— I didn’t want this to happen," she murmured, voice raw with sincerity. "I’m sorry."

Judy held her gaze, steady and unflinching. "Well, it did happen. And there’s nothing between us anymore. There never will be. I’ve moved on, Val. You should, too. Don’t make this any harder and more awkward than it has to be."

With that, Judy shifted to the other side of the bed, with her back to the other woman. The weight of the conversation pressing against her chest like a vice, her heart pounding against her ribs as she willed herself to shut out the pain, to shut out the memories. Behind her, Valerie remained seated, silent and still, like a ghost of something that had once been real, now fading into the background.

Chapter Text

Chapter VI | Strangers
We're not lovers, we're just strangers, with the same damn hunger to be touched, to be loved, to feel anything at all.

Judy sat alone in the bustling cafeteria, her tray of food untouched. The clatter of dishes and the murmur of conversations surrounded her, a constant hum that barely registered in her ears. She stared down at her plate, her thoughts far from the noisy crowd around her, trapped instead in the lingering shadows of last night. The conversation with Valerie played on an endless loop in her mind, each word, each glance dissected and examined from every angle. Valerie’s cryptic remark about putting her in danger echoed the loudest, gnawing at the edges of Judy’s carefully constructed sense of control. What had she meant by that? Was it an excuse, another half-truth? Judy's instincts told her it was just another lie, but doubt lingered, gnawing at her resolve.

The evening had passed in strained silence, they hadn’t exchanged a word. Judy had buried herself in Regina’s notes, pouring over strategies and formations with a desperate intensity, while Valerie sat across the room, absent-mindedly scrolling through her phone. The air between them had been thick, charged with words unspoken and wounds too fresh to touch.

This morning, the tension had broken in the form of absence. Judy had woken to an empty room, Valerie already gone. A small mercy, perhaps. Alone, she could move through the motions of her morning without the weight of those gray eyes following her, without the constant reminder of unfinished conversations and unresolved emotions.

Judy craved the comfort of her routines - she craved the rigid structure that gave her life a semblance of order when everything else threatened to spin beyond her control. The past few weeks had unraveled her in ways she couldn’t quite articulate, each day a blur of uncertainty and doubt, leaving her drained, raw in a way she hated to admit. Chaos clung to her like smoke, seeping into her thoughts, disrupting even her most guarded moments.

Routine - unforgiving, relentless routine - was her anchor. Training drills that left her gasping for breath, morning runs that burned away the unease in her chest, the sharp sting of muscle fatigue that told her she was pushing forward, inch by inch. It was tangible. Pain she could measure. Progress she could track. Routine wasn’t just habit – for her it was survival. It steadied her, kept her sharp, kept her from drowning in the noise. It didn’t ask questions, didn’t shift beneath her feet like everything else in her life seemed to. Discipline was constant. It didn’t lie. It didn’t leave. And right now, she needed it more than ever.

Lost in her thoughts, she idly pushed a piece of lettuce around her plate, watching it wilt beneath her fork. The scrape of a chair beside her barely registered until familiar voice cut through the haze.

“Hey, Cap.”

Judy blinked, looking up to find Rita settling in beside her, the defender’s eyes filled with quiet concern. “You okay?”

Judy forced a small, tired smile, the weight of her thoughts pressing heavily against her chest, squeezing tighter with every breath. “Yeah,” she said, the lie slipping too easily from her lips. “I’m fine.”

But even as she spoke, the words settled awkwardly, a flimsy barrier against the tide of emotions she wasn't ready to confront. Rita studied her for a beat, eyes flickering with something close to suspicion, but instead of pressing further, the purple-haired woman launched into an effortless stream of small talk. She rambled about how some of their teammates went skinny dipping at the beach last night, what Vanessa was up to back in Pittsburgh, and how Roxanne had been shamelessly flirting with the bellboy.

Judy nodded occasionally, offering half-hearted hums of acknowledgment, but her mind was elsewhere. Her gaze wandered across the bustling cafeteria, and inevitably, it found Valerie.

There she was, sitting with Lucy and Rebecca, laughter spilling from her lips like it belonged there, like it wasn’t a cruel contrast to the turmoil churning inside Judy. Valerie looked relaxed, carefree in a way that made Judy’s teeth grind. It was infuriating - how easily she seemed to move on, like none of it mattered, like Judy didn’t matter.

Rita kept talking, her voice a distant hum, but Judy couldn’t focus on her friend’s words. She was too busy picking apart Valerie’s vague excuse from the previous night, replaying the words, dissecting them for hidden meanings that probably didn’t exist. The more she thought about it, the more it gnawed at her, an ache deep in her chest. She couldn't let herself be drawn back into Val’s web of deceit. She needed to stay strong, to hold the line she'd drawn, to keep her distance.

And yet... her eyes stayed locked on the blue-haired woman. On Lucy’s hand resting too comfortably on her shoulder. On the way the midfielder leaned in a little too close, practically sitting on Valerie's lap. On the way Lucy’s gaze lingered, predatory and possessive, and Valerie didn’t seem to mind. Judy felt a simmering anger bubbling within her. Why was she so mad? Valerie seemed to have surrendered, doing exactly what Judy had asked her to do - move on, stop dwelling on their past, and focus on the tournament. So why did it feel like her heart was being squeezed in a vise?

Judy swallowed hard, the bitterness rising in her throat. She knew what this was - jealousy. A sharp, unwelcome thing eating out her insides. But she shouldn’t feel it. She reminded herself, over and over, that Valerie was part of her past now. A closed chapter. A ghost she refused to chase anymore. And yet, the ache of that closure was sharper than she'd anticipated.

“...and then Babs tried to surf but ended up tangled in fuckin' seaweed,” Rita was saying, snickering at the memory.

Judy forced a chuckle, her smile barely reaching her eyes. She wanted to focus, to be present, but her mind was caught on what they were now and what they used to be. She watched as Valerie leaned in closer to Lucy, their heads almost touching, their shared laughter piercing through the din of the cafeteria. Another pang twisted in her gut, but she shoved it down.

“Jude?” Rita’s voice cut through the haze, sharp and questioning. “You even listenin’?”

Judy blinked, snapping her attention back. “Sorry, Reet,” she murmured, shaking her head as if to dislodge the thoughts rattling inside. “Just... got a lot on my mind.”

“You’ve got someone on your mind,” Rita corrected, following Judy’s gaze straight to Valerie. “After the briefing, come to my room. Turbo Dracula’s set up and waitin'. We need to discuss some important shit.”

Judy rolled her eyes but couldn’t help the tug of a smile. “Thanks, Reet, but I think I’m gonna hit the gym… Really, I’m fine. Just need to sort my shit out.”

Rita didn’t buy it. She grinned, then, without warning, threw an arm around Judy's shoulder and squeezed tight, nearly crushing her. “Chicken,” she declared loudly, drawing a few amused glances from nearby tables.

Judy squirmed out of the embrace, pushing her away with a scowl. “Fuck you, Reet.”

“Turbo Dracula. My room. After briefing,” Rita repeated, standing with a triumphant grin. “We’re kicking HelsingCorp’s butts again!”

Judy watched her go, managing a small chuckle despite herself. But as she turned back to her food, she couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched. Lifting her gaze, she found gray eyes on her, so intense that it made her stomach flip. Valerie wasn’t listening to Lucy anymore, wasn’t laughing. She was just... watching. Their gazes locked across the crowded cafeteria, and for a moment, it felt like the noise around them faded, like they were the only two people in the room. Valerie’s expression was inscrutable, but there was something there, something Judy didn’t want to name.

Judy was the first to look away, standing abruptly and grabbing her tray. She forced herself to walk out with purpose, not glancing back. But even as she left, she could feel it - Valerie's gaze burning into her back, goosebumps prickling her skin.

The soft glow of the screen bathed the room in a cool, bluish light, flickering across Judy and Rita as they sat cross-legged on the bed, gamepads in hand. The eerie soundtrack of Turbo Dracula filled the air - a macabre symphony of blood splatters, haunting organ melodies, and the guttural roars of the monstrous creatures they were slicing through with ruthless precision.

It had become a cherished ritual for them, a sacred tradition. Each training camp, they would attempt to conquer a full game, an unspoken challenge that bonded them further. This latest installment of the series was uncharted territory, its unfamiliar twists and relentless enemies demanding their full attention.

Rita leaned forward, eyes locked onto the screen as her character unleashed a devastating combo, eviscerating a grotesque chimera in a blur of pixelated carnage. "Alright, Cap, spill the tea. What’s goin' on with you and Bakker?" she asked, and even though her voice was casual, there was an unmistakable thread of curiosity woven through it.

Judy's thumb slipped, causing her character to miss an attack and take a brutal hit. She cursed under her breath, forcing herself to focus, though Rita’s question hung heavy in the air. "It’s... complicated," she finally muttered.

Rita’s character executed a flawless parry, turning the tide of battle with effortless skill. She smirked, not missing a beat. "If you need me to, I can always kick ‘er ass during training. Again. Jus’ say the word."

Judy let out a short laugh, a genuine smile tugging at her lips despite herself. "Thanks, Reet, but it won’t be necessary. Last time was uncalled for anyway." Her fingers tightened around the gamepad, her character springing back into action. "We talked—or tried to, at least. She couldn’t explain anything, so I ended it. Told her we both needed to move on."

Rita's avatar dashed ahead, dispatching a wave of grotesque, genetically spliced werewolf-zombies with merciless efficiency. "Maybe that's for the best... but, uh, choom, the way you were starin' at her today? You were practically droolin' into your breakfast, Jude."

"Did not!"

"Come on, Cap, it's me. I know you," Rita said as her character took a hit but recovered easily, and she stole a quick glance at Judy, her smirk deepening. "You were fuckin' jealous."

"Give me a fuckin’ break, Reet. I know it’s over. I’m fully aware of it... but seein' her with Lucy? Yeah, it gets to me."

Rita paused the game, turning to face Judy, her expression serious. "Well... don't you think that means something?"

Judy exhaled sharply, her shoulders sagging. On the screen, her character stood frozen, a second away from being torn apart by a monstrous foe. It mirrored how she felt - always one moment away from unraveling completely. She opened her mouth, ready to brush it all off, to claim it meant nothing, when the door flew open. Meredith stormed in, her presence cutting through the thick air like a blade. She halted, her sharp eyes narrowing as they landed on Judy and Rita sprawled on the bed, gamepads clutched in their hands. The bluish glow illuminated her perfectly arched brow as she crossed her arms with an air of condescension.

"Video games? How... childish," she remarked, shaking her head in disapproval.

Judy and Rita exchanged a glance, a shared understanding passing between them. The intrusion sliced through the tension of their conversation like a scalpel, leaving Judy feeling both irritated and relieved. She suppressed the urge to snap back at Meredith’s tone and instead refocused on the screen.

"It's called stress relief, Stout," Rita drawled without missing a beat, and resumed the game. Her character carved through another wave of enemies with surgical precision. "You should try it sometime. Might do you some good."

Judy chuckled, appreciating Rita's quick-witted retort as she dove back into the game, her fingers moving with renewed purpose.

"Not really your concern how I unwind," Meredith replied, her tone laced with cool indifference as she moved across the room. "But you'll get a taste of my stress relief techniques tomorrow. We've got a day off."

Rita groaned theatrically. "Great. That means today’s training is gonna be pure hell."

Judy sighed. "Rogue booked the field for three hours. It's gonna suck."

"Stop whining," Stout said, settling onto her bed with a dismissive wave. Her eyes flicked to the screen with a begrudging hint of curiosity. "We need to be ready for our rematch with Japan. Those fuckers are lightning-fast, and their defense is brutal. You need to figure out how to break through."

Rita rolled her eyes but didn’t argue. The room fell into a comfortable silence, broken only by the chaotic sounds of their game - monsters snarling, their guts spilling onto the floor, weapons clashing, the occasional triumphant chime of a level cleared.

After a moment, Meredith spoke again, her tone almost hesitant. "Alright... show me how to play this thing."

Rita and Judy exchanged another glance, identical grins spreading across their faces.

Judy feinted left, then cut sharply to the right, her movements fluid but calculated, a desperate attempt to shake Beatrice off her tail. Sweat slicked her skin, the afternoon sun beating down in relentless waves, but she barely registered it. Her focus was on the field, on the shifting lines of defense, searching for an opening. There - a fleeting gap, an opportunity. Without hesitation, she sent a long, arcing pass toward Rachel, who was already sprinting toward the goal with single-minded determination. The ball soared through the air, a perfect trajectory - until Claire intercepted it with ease, her touch deft, sending it sailing back toward midfield without a moment's pause.

Judy swore under her breath, her jaw tightening as she watched her carefully crafted play fall apart. The frustration gnawed at her, but it wasn't just about the mistimed pass. The truth stung deeper. Rachel lacked the raw, blistering speed Valerie possessed—a speed that would have put her exactly where Judy needed her, no hesitation, no miscalculation. But Judy had deliberately avoided that option.

"Stay sharp, Álvarez!" Rogue's voice cut through the din of the practice field, sharp and uncompromising. "Bakker was wide open! Look for other options!"

Judy ground her teeth, sprinting back into position, the weight of Rogue's words pressing against her chest. It was the third time she had directed a pass to someone else when, deep down, she knew that involving Val was the right choice. She did it intentionally, allowing her personal turmoil to seep into her professional focus - an act of rebellion against the resolve she had sworn to uphold. But the image from earlier that day burned in her mind, refusing to let go - Lucy, leaning in close, pressing a kiss to Valerie's cheek as she handed her a water bottle. The easy familiarity of it, the way Lucy had smiled, the way it had twisted something inside Judy so tight it hurt.

The scene replayed in her head like a slow, torturous loop, stirring something primal within her, sending a bitter twist through her gut that she struggled to suppress. And so the bad decisions kept piling up.

Minutes later, it happened again. Another poor pass, another squandered opportunity. The tension on the field was thick, oppressive, and it coiled around her chest with every mistake she made. The storm clouds gathering on the horizon mirrored the turmoil inside her. When Rogue's whistle sliced through the air, calling for the team to regroup, Judy felt the weight of it settle heavily in her gut.

She barely had time to catch her breath before Valerie was there, jogging toward her with that unmistakable stride, all power and purpose. Judy didn't need to see her face to know what was coming. The sharp set of her jaw, the tightness in her shoulders - she could feel Valerie's frustration radiating off her in waves. Her eyes, gray and stormy, locked onto Judy’s with a fire that made the smaller woman feel exposed, cornered.

Judy was acutely aware of her own missteps, the weight of her actions pressing heavily upon her. She had no justification for her current actions, the logic of it all was tangled and contradictory. Her mind was a battlefield where reason and emotion clashed, and the result was a painful, undeniable certainty that she was in the wrong here.

“What the hell is your problem?” Valerie demanded, her voice low but carrying the weight of restrained fury. “Why aren’t you passing me the ball?”

Judy swallowed, pulse thrumming in her ears. "You were out of position," she lied, the excuse hollow even to her own ears.

"Bullshit," Val snapped, stepping closer, crowding into her space, her presence a force that made Judy's skin prickle. "You know I wasn't. What the fuck is going on with you?"

Judy exhaled sharply, her frustration bubbling to the surface. "Why is this such a big deal? It's just practice. I'm trying different opti—"

"Stop lying!" Valerie's voice cracked like a whip, raw and cutting. "I need to be in the first squad. I can't make that happen if you keep sidelining me!"

"You'll be in the starting lineup," Judy muttered, but the conviction in her voice was paper-thin, and they both knew it.

"I can't risk it!" Valerie's voice wavered, trembling with something deeper, something that clawed at Judy's chest. Her eyes burned with desperation, with fear barely masked beneath the anger. "My whole fuckin' life depends on this."

Judy scoffed, forcing a smirk that felt unnatural on her lips. "Don't be so melodramatic," she replied, turning, trying to walk away, to escape, ready to put distance between herself and the heat of Valerie's gaze.

But Val wasn’t letting her go that easily. Her hand shot out, fingers curling around Judy's forearm with a force that startled her. It wasn’t rough, but it was firm - a silent demand. Judy froze, feeling the warmth of Valerie's touch sear through her skin, her heartbeat spiking. Gray eyes, stormy and unwavering, searched hers. And then, after a beat, as if realizing the pressure of her grip, she let go, fingers ghosting away, leaving a lingering heat in their wake.

When she spoke again, her voice was quieter, raw, stripped of pretense. "Judy... just... please, pass me the ball."

For a moment, Judy couldn't breathe, caught in the space between Valerie's plea and her own stubborn pride. Valerie stood so close, the sincerity in her voice cutting through the noise of everything else. But still, Judy couldn't quite bring herself to nod.

The sun hung high in the sky, a golden orb casting its warm, honeyed glow over the stretch of sandy shore. The air shimmered with heat, carrying the bracing scent of salt and sunscreen, mingling with the distant laughter and chatter of beachgoers. Judy reclined on a sunbed, her toned figure bathed in the sun's embrace, the light glinting off the beads of condensation clinging to her fingers as she nursed a colorful mocktail. She traced lazy circles over the glass, savoring the coolness against her skin.

A pair of oversized sunglasses shielded her eyes, allowing her to watch the world unfold without interruption. Her teammates were a blur of energy before her, engaged in a spirited, if somewhat chaotic, game of beach volleyball. Sand erupted in soft clouds beneath their bare feet, sticking to glistening skin and adding to the carefree atmosphere that enveloped them. For once, the weight of competition and expectation felt distant, and Judy let herself sink into the rare moment of tranquility, the rhythmic crash of waves providing a soothing backdrop.

The whistle around her neck hung loosely, a mere formality at this point. She hadn’t felt the need to blow it, nor had she bothered to keep score. Today wasn’t about performance - it was about release, about soaking in the sun and laughter with the people who made the endless training sessions and grueling matches worth it. These lighthearted moments always reminded her why she loved being part of the national team. Here they were, on the opposite side of the earth, training tirelessly and then unwinding together. She wouldn’t trade it for anything.

Judy's gaze drifted toward the court just as Rita’s familiar, booming voice shattered the languid serenity. "Come on, Panam! That was an easy one!"

She was taking the game far more seriously than anyone else, her competitive spirit evident in every exasperated gesture when a teammate missed a strike or sent the ball out of bounds.

Judy chuckled, her lips curling into a smirk. "Reet, we’re soccer players, not volleyball pros," she called out, her voice lilting with amusement.

Rita turned to her with a dramatic sigh, hands planted firmly on her hips. "Yeah, well, you'd think we'd have better coordination!"

The next serve launched, and Carol, with all the enthusiasm but none of the finesse, sent the ball sailing straight into the net. Rita groaned, the sound carrying even over the steady rhythm of the surf.

"You’ve got to be kidding me! That’s like the fifth time! You desert rats are worthless!"

Panam arched a brow, tossing a smug grin in her direction. "Watch it, champ. Pretty sure our referee wouldn’t interfere if we decided to kick your ass."

Judy lifted her glass in a mock salute, eyes twinkling behind her shades. "Patience, Reet. It’s all about having fun, remember?"

Rita shot her a mock glare but couldn't suppress the smile creeping onto her face. "Easy for you to say, you’re just sitting there!"

Judy took the final sip of her mocktail, the sweet, tangy burst of fruit lingering on her tongue. She stretched, feeling the pleasant pull of sun-warmed muscles. “Hey, someone has to keep an eye on you lot and make sure you don’t take things too seriously."

Rita rolled her eyes but turned back to the game, determined to redeem her team’s dubious performance. Judy watched for a while longer, enjoying playful banter, the way her teammates teasing and laughter blended with the sounds of the waves and the distant hum of music from a nearby beach bar. Eventually, the promise of another cool drink lured her from her sunbed. She slid her feet into the soft sand, feeling it shift beneath her weight as she strolled towards the bar.

The bartender greeted her with a friendly smile, and Judy leaned casually against the counter, ordering another mocktail. For the first time in what felt like forever, she let herself breathe, let herself simply be. Judy took a moment to take it all in - the golden sun stretched high in the cloudless azure sky, the rhythmic murmur of the waves rolling onto the shore, and the bursts of laughter from her teammates scattered across the beach. Her gaze drifted over the bustling beach, watching the happy chaos unfold while she waited for her drink to be prepared.  

At the bar, the other bartender, a young guy with an easy smile, was thoroughly enjoying the attention of Rebecca. The goalkeeper leaned across the counter, twirling a strand of hair around her finger, her signature playful smirk firmly in place. Judy watched the interaction with mild amusement - Rebecca could flirt with a rock if it gave her enough attention.

Spotting Judy, the petite goalkeeper brightened and all but tackled Judy in an enthusiastic hug. "Alvy! Enjoying your day off?"

Judy laughed, returning the embrace with a grin. "Yeah, it's been great. Just soaking it all in."

As the bartender handed over her drink, Judy took a slow sip, letting the cool, fruity taste wash over her. She glanced back at Rebecca. "Where's Lucy? You two are usually glued together at the hip."

It was true. Rebecca and Lucy had been inseparable since day one, their careers woven together like an unbreakable thread. No matter where the sport took them - Japan, Germany, Australia - Rebecca was always right behind Lucy, steadfast and unwavering. Judy was convinced the woman would follow Lucy to the moon, no questions asked. But today, the midfielder was conspicuously absent, and a thought wormed its way into Judy's mind, unwelcome and persistent. She could almost picture Lucy now, enjoying her day off, lost in the sweaty sheets, limbs entangled with a certain blue-haired striker. The image settled heavily in her gut, a dull ache she tried to push away.

Rebecca's voice pulled her back to reality. "Oh, she's running some errands for the beach party tonight. Are you coming?"

Judy raised an eyebrow, feeling both surprised and relieved. “Oh, are we havin’ a beach party?”

Rebecca grinned, her eyes sparkling with excitement. "Hell yeah, we are! It's gonna be epic. You better show up."

Judy chuckled, nodding. "Alright, I'll be there."

Rebecca wasted no time turning back to the bartender, inviting him to the party with a wink that earned her an immediate nod of agreement. Judy shook her head fondly, retreating from the bar with her drink in hand. She meandered back to where the others were still immersed in their game, their laughter and playful taunts carrying over the sand. Rita's exasperated voice rang out, punctuated by cheers and teasing jeers as the competition raged on. A soft smile tugged at Judy’s lips as she eased down onto the sunbed, the fabric warm beneath her skin. She took a slow sip of her mocktail, the sweetness lingering on her tongue, and let the sun’s heat envelop her, trying to lose herself in the easy rhythm of the afternoon.

Her attention drifted, drawn away from the game and toward the shoreline, where the rolling waves met the sun-drenched sand. There, amidst the lively scene, was a figure that commanded her gaze without effort.

Valerie.

Dressed in a sweat-drenched sports bra and tight shorts, she moved with a kind of effortless grace, her body glistening under the midday sun. Each stride sent a ripple through the taut lines of muscle beneath her skin, a hypnotic display of control and power. Judy watched, spellbound, as Valerie slowed from a steady run to a walk, her chest rising and falling in a measured rhythm, a fine sheen of sweat darkening the blue strands of her hair where they clung to her forehead and neck. There was something magnetic in the way she moved, each step purposeful, the air around her charged with something Judy couldn’t quite name.

Rita’s voice broke through the haze. “Panam, for cryin’ out loud, aim higher!” Judy laughed, but her eyes remained fixed on the blue-haired striker, following her approach with an intensity she couldn't shake.

As Valerie finally reached their little oasis of sunbeds and half-empty drinks, she sank down beside Judy with a soft exhale, letting her weight settle into the cushion. "Hey," she murmured, her voice a low rasp of exertion and satisfaction.

Judy couldn’t look away. Valerie's skin, flushed from exertion, was taut and glowing, every inch of her lean frame a proof of the countless hours she’d poured into her training. Her collarbone rose and fell with each heavy breath, the swell of her chest glistening in the sunlight. Her eyes, vivid and intense against her flushed cheeks, shone with a fierce determination. As she drew in breath, she tilted her head back slightly, allowing the sun’s warmth to embrace her face, a contented smile playing at her lips.

Judy swallowed hard, her lips pressing into a thin line as she slid her sunglasses down the bridge of her nose, peering over the rim with a smirk she didn’t quite feel in control of. A familiar, possessive urge surged through her - a fierce desire to reclaim what she once believed was hers alone, not to let Lucy have what she considered her sloppy seconds. The attraction was undeniable, an intoxicating pull that defied reason and caution. Her mind screamed at her to compose herself, to remember the pain and betrayal Valerie had inflicted. Yet, in the face of such raw, physical allure, those rational thoughts seemed to dissolve, leaving Judy caught between longing and resentment.

"You do realize it’s our day off, right?" Judy teased, voice deceptively casual. "Shouldn’t you be kicking back with a drink instead of running yourself into the ground?"

Valerie’s lips curled into a slow, knowing smile. "Needed to clear my head," she replied, her gray eyes locking onto Judy’s with an intensity that sent a shiver down her spine. "Cool off."

Judy was about to fire back with some sarcastic retort when her gaze fell to the bandage on Valerie’s side. What was once a clean strip of gauze was now stained with deep crimson, the blood seeping through with alarming persistence. In an instant, the lighthearted atmosphere shifted, a cold wave of concern washing over Judy’s chest.

"Valerie… your wound," Judy said, her voice dropping, all amusement gone. In one swift movement, she was on her feet, grabbing a shirt draped over the backrest and slipping it on. Without waiting for permission, she reached for Valerie’s hand, her grip firm and unyielding. "Come on," she said, tugging the blue-haired woman up from the sunbed. "We need to take care of that."

Valerie blinked in surprise, caught off guard by Judy’s sudden urgency. "Jude, it’s fine, I just—"

"It’s not fine," Judy cut her off, her jaw tight, her gaze hard as steel. "Stop arguing with me. Let’s go."

With a resigned sigh, Valerie let herself be led away, their fingers laced together as they navigated the hot sand, leaving the shouts and laughter of their friends behind. The distant roar of the waves faded into the background, and as they crossed into the cool shadow of the hotel lobby, the contrast of the chilled air against their sun-warmed skin sent a shiver down Judy’s spine.

She didn’t let go of Valerie’s hand, not even when they reached the elevator. The soft hum of the doors sliding shut sealed them inside a space that suddenly felt too intimate, too small. Valerie’s eyes lingered on her - watching, waiting - but Judy kept her gaze fixed downward, refusing to meet them. Instead, she focused on the faint tremor in Val’s fingers, her own breathing, and the ache that pulsed deep within her own ribcage, sharp and relentless. Because, despite everything, despite the pain and the lies, she still cared. More than she should.

The silence stretched between them, punctuated only by the low murmur of the elevator’s machinery. Judy’s grip on Valerie’s hand was too tight, she realized suddenly, her knuckles white against Valerie’s skin. A jolt of awareness shot through her, and she pulled away abruptly, as if burned. A flush crept up her neck, and she mumbled an apology under her breath. Valerie only smiled in response, that gentle, infuriating smile that softened the sharp edges of the moment, as if they weren’t standing on the precipice of something fragile and dangerous.

Once inside the hotel room, Judy shed her hesitation like a second skin, her movements becoming brisk, purposeful. She motioned toward the bed with a firm nod. “Sit down. Stay put.”

Valerie arched a brow but complied without protest, settling onto the edge of the mattress with a fluid grace that made Judy’s chest tighten. There was something in her expression - a flicker of amusement beneath the exhaustion, a hint of that damnable cockiness that never quite faded. Judy ignored it, disappearing into the bathroom only to return moments later with the first aid kit clutched tightly in her hands.

Valerie watched her with quiet curiosity, her lips quirking at the corners. “You know, I could’ve handled this myself,” she said, voice light, teasing.

Judy shot her a sharp look, dropping to her knees beside the bed. The kit snapped open with a decisive click. “Yeah, well, I’m handling it now. Sit still and lemme take care of it.”

With practiced efficiency, she peeled away the bloodied bandage, revealing the wound beneath. The sight of the raw, angry gash twisted something deep inside her, but she didn’t falter, didn’t let her hands tremble. Instead, she soaked a piece of gauze in peroxide and pressed it against Valerie’s skin without warning. A sharp inhale hissed through Valerie’s teeth, but she didn’t flinch, didn’t utter a word of complaint. Her gray eyes held Judy’s steadily, unwavering despite the sting, despite the antiseptic burning through her flesh.

The silence between them was heavy, thick with unspoken things - concern, tension, something deeper that neither of them dared to name. Judy worked methodically, her touch firm yet careful, each movement a reflection of the worry she refused to voice. The minutes stretched, and when she finally spoke, her voice was quieter, but no less insistent. “How’d you get this, Val?”

Valerie’s expression flickered, a shadow passing through her eyes. “Got stabbed,” she said, the words too casual, too flippant, almost nonchalant.

Judy froze, her breath catching in her throat. “Stabbed?!” she echoed, the word heavy on her tongue. “What the fuck, Val? How did that happen?”

“There was a guy,” Valerie shrugged, as if that explained everything. “He had a knife. I was in the way.”

Judy exhaled sharply, frustration simmering just beneath the surface. “Val.”

“Yes, Jude?” Valerie’s lips curled into that familiar smirk, and Judy’s irritation flared hot and bright. She wanted to wipe that grin off the blue-haired woman’s face. This was serious, she was injured, and she wasn’t taking it seriously at all.

“This isn’t funny,” Judy muttered, carefully pressing a fresh bandage into place. Her fingers lingered, tracing the edge of the gauze. “You could’ve—”

“But I didn’t,” Valerie interrupted gently, her voice softer now. “And you’re here, taking care of me.”

Judy swallowed, the weight of those words settling uncomfortably in her chest. Her mind raced, a mix of anger and fear swirling within her. Val’s reluctance to reveal the full story puzzled her, yet lately it seemed less like deception and more like something deeper, something complicated. Judy couldn't understand how Valerie’s actions would endanger her, and the mystery gnawed at her. She decided she needed the full picture before she could even think of letting Valerie back into her life.

“This is fuckin’ serious, Val.”

Valerie’s smile widened, her eyes sparkling with amusement. “You’re adorable when you’re angry,” she murmured, her fingers lightly grazing Judy’s cheek. “And you’re calling me Val again. I’ve missed that.”

Judy felt her heart skip a beat at the unexpected touch, her irritation momentarily forgotten. She sighed and shook her head. “Shut up. I need to know what happened.”

Valerie’s smile faded slightly, replaced by a more serious expression. “I know,” she said quietly. “But right now, I just want to enjoy this moment with you.”

She looked up, meeting Valerie’s gaze head-on, searching for something - answers, honesty, maybe even reassurance. What she found instead was that same quiet concern, the sincerity that always managed to catch her off guard. The moment stretched between them, the air thick with things left unsaid. Judy’s hands lingered longer than they should, her fingers tracing featherlight patterns across Valerie’s skin, memorizing the warmth, the shape of her. She wanted to demand answers, to push, to pry, but she found herself hesitating. The exhaustion in Valerie’s eyes, the way she looked at her with something dangerously close to tenderness - it made Judy pause.

“The moment’s gone,” she murmured finally, pulling away.

Valerie studied her for a beat before rising to her feet. And then, without warning, she leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to Judy’s cheek. The touch was featherlight, warm, and it stole the breath right from Judy’s lungs. “Thank you,” she whispered against her skin, then disappeared into the bathroom, leaving the door slightly ajar.

Judy remained where she was, frozen in place. Her hand instinctively reached up to touch her cheek, fingers ghosting over the spot where Valerie’s lips had been. A swirl of confusion, longing, and something far more dangerous churned inside her. The room felt too still, too charged with lingering ghosts of moments she couldn’t afford to dwell on.

Judy’s mind raced, replaying the brief but intense interaction. She felt the warmth of the kiss lingering on her skin, a poignant reminder of Valerie’s constant presence. She found herself staring at the bathroom door, anticipation and uncertainty battling within her. She felt dizzy with lust, the urge to claim Valerie almost overpowering. Taking a steadying breath, Judy turned toward the exit, her resolve hardening. She couldn’t do this - not now, not yet. And with that thought, she stepped out of the room, the soft click of the door behind her feeling far heavier than it should have.

Night draped itself over the beach like a heavy velvet curtain, the sky above a vast canvas of indigo sprinkled with scattered stars. The bonfire at the heart of the gathering burned high and bright, flames licking at the night air, their flickering glow casting dancing shadows across the sand. Laughter and music wove together, drifting through the crisp evening breeze, blending with the rhythmic murmur of waves rolling onto the shore.

Judy sat on a weathered wooden bench, close enough to feel the fire's heat but far enough to remain an observer rather than a participant. The sharp scent of burning driftwood mingled with salt and sun-warmed skin, wrapping around her like a memory she couldn't quite place. Beside her, Rita settled in, drink in hand, her eyes flitting between the flames and the thrumming crowd beyond.

"So," the defender’s voice cut through the ambient hum, casual but tinged with unmistakable curiosity. "What happened earlier?"

Judy stiffened, her gaze snapping to Rita before quickly diverting, her fingers tightening around the can of Spunky Monkey in her lap. "What do you mean?"

Rita took a slow sip, studying her with a knowing glint in her eyes. "Oh, come on. We all saw you and Bakker disappearing into the hotel. You practically dragged her in there. It looked... intense."

A flush crept up Judy's neck, and she shrugged, feigning nonchalance. "It wasn't like that. Valerie got hurt. I was just helping her with her bandage. Had to clean the wound."

Rita’s lips curled into a sly grin. "And were there any scissors in that first aid kit?"

Judy let out a short, bitter laugh. "Nothing happened, Reet."

Rita leaned back, her amusement deepening. "I think half the team assumed you two were fuckin’ in there. Lucy definitely heard the rumors - probably why she's been glued to Bakker all night."

She nodded toward the edge of the crowd, where Lucy stood, a sleek red dress clinging to every curve, shimmering under the firelight like something otherworldly. The dress accentuated her lean, athletic frame, and her asymmetrical neon blue hair gave her an almost ethereal, dangerous beauty. She was stunning, a picture of undeniable desire and confidence. But despite her captivating appearance, it was clear that Lucy's efforts to catch the blue-haired woman’s attention were in vain. Valerie, standing beside her, seemed far removed from Lucy’s orbit, her attention wandering elsewhere. Lucy's flirtatious laughter and light touches went unanswered, falling into an abyss of indifference.

“She still thinks she stands a chance against you, but your girl keeps glaring this way. She’s definitely not appreciating the attention.”

Judy watched, biting the inside of her cheek to suppress the smirk threatening to break free. And then, as if sensing the weight of Judy’s gaze, Valerie’s stormy eyes lifted, locking onto hers across the fire. A sheepish smile played at the corners of her lips, and despite herself, Judy mirrored it, a silent exchange crackling between them like embers carried by the wind.

Before she could savor it, a shadow fell across her vision.

"Well, well," a familiar voice purred.

Judy looked up, her stomach knotting at the sight of Maiko standing before her. Her slender yet athletic build was accentuated by a confident and poised stance. Asymmetrical bangs framed her face. Her sharp, almond-shaped eyes were currently locked onto Judy, exuding an intensity that was impossible to ignore. Her lips curled in a smirk that sent a chill crawling down Judy’s spine.

"What do you want, Maiko?" Judy asked, leaning back, gripping her can tightly.

"Why the hostility, Jude?" Maiko’s tone was playful, but the predatory gleam in her eyes betrayed her amusement.

Judy exhaled sharply. "I don’t feel like talking to you."

"Ouch," Maiko said with mock offense, placing a hand over her chest. "Just wanted to see how you’re holding up. I heard you’ve been trailing after our rookie like a love-struck puppy."

Rita bristled beside her. "You always had a big mouth. Fuck off, Maeda. Judy doesn’t want to talk to you."

Maiko’s smirk didn’t falter. "Oh, so you’ve got this rabid dog speaking for you now? Cute," she sneered, reaching out to brush a fingertip along Judy’s cheek. Judy flinched away, avoiding her ex-girlfriend’s touch. "You’re breaking my heart, Jude. You used to like it when I touched you."

"That was a long time ago. Forget it ever happened. I certainly have."

She stood abruptly and without waiting for Maiko's response, she turned on her heel. She walked away, her steps quick, deliberate, carrying her toward the water’s edge.

The ocean stretched out before her, endless and dark, waves lapping against the shore in a steady, soothing rhythm. She closed her eyes, letting the sea breeze cool the heat on her skin and ruffle her hair, trying to push away the memories Maiko had stirred up so effortlessly. But the ache in her chest wouldn't subside.

After a moment, she glanced back toward the bonfire, searching for that familiar sight of blue. But the spot where Valerie and Lucy had been standing was empty now, their absence leaving behind an unsettling hollowness. A sinking feeling settled in her chest, an unwelcome heaviness that pulled her spirits down. The flickering firelight cast long shadows on the sand, but none of them belonged to the person she was looking for.

Judy sighed, turning her gaze back to the endless expanse of the ocean, feeling smaller than she had in a long time. The waves rolled on, indifferent to the turmoil twisting inside her, and she let them wash over her feet, wishing they could sweep away the weight of longing pressing against her ribs.

Chapter Text

Chapter VII | Begging for the Sun to Go Down
I'd turn the tides for you, if I still thought you'd notice if I do.

Judy woke up startled, the soft glow of moonlight spilling through the half-open curtains and casting ghostly patterns across the walls. She rubbed at her eyes, blinking the haze away, and turned her head toward the clock on the nightstand. 2:47 AM. Her limbs felt heavy, muscles stiff and cold, the weight of exhaustion pressing down on her chest. It took a moment for the fog to clear, for the disjointed pieces of consciousness to snap into place.

The quiet stillness of the night shattered in an instant as the door swung open with a bang, the handle smacking against the wall. Judy jolted upright, her heart leaping into her throat. Valerie stumbled inside, and even in the dim light, Judy could see the telltale signs of intoxication - glassy eyes, unsteady steps, the way she leaned against the doorframe like it was the only thing keeping her upright.

"Valerie?" Judy's voice was sharp, cutting through the tension that had suddenly filled the room. She swung her legs over the side of the bed and stood, every nerve alert. "What the hell are you doing?"

The blue-haired woman didn’t answer. She kicked off her boots carelessly, the heavy thud of them hitting the floor making Judy flinch. She swayed slightly, one hand gripping the wall, the other raking through the wild mess of her hair. The smell hit Judy next - booze, sweat, and the faint trace of sea salt still clinging to her clothes. It made Judy’s stomach twist.

Frustration bubbled up beneath her skin, a slow burn that threatened to ignite. When cornered, angry, and uncertain, Judy did what she did best - pick a fucking fight. She could already feel the familiar edge creeping in, the sharp need to lash out, to force an answer out of Valerie before the silence suffocated her.

"Valerie," she snapped, stepping closer, her pulse pounding in her ears. "Answer me. Where the fuck were you?"

The silence stretched too long, and it gnawed at her, sinking its teeth in deep. She already knew the answer - she was certain of where Valerie had disappeared to, into whose room and whose inviting arms. Judy had spent the entire evening at the beach, waiting, hoping Valerie would return. But midnight had come and gone, and with it, Judy’s patience. She’d walked back to their room, the ache in her chest growing with every step, half-expecting to find a sock on the handle of their door or on one down the hall. But there had been nothing. Just the still, empty room mocking her.

And now here Val was, stumbling in hours later, disheveled and reeking of bad decisions.

"Were you with Lucy?"

The words slipped out before she could stop them, soft and raw, barely above a whisper. It was an accusation wrapped in fear, surrendering to the worst thoughts that had plagued her all night.

Valerie’s eyes, though clouded, still held their usual sharpness, a flicker of defiance cutting through the alcohol-induced fog. "It’s none of your business, Judy," she slurred, pushing off the wall and taking an unsteady step forward.

Judy’s heart clenched, heat rising to her cheeks, a volatile mix of anger and worry simmering beneath the surface. "It is my business! You can’t just—"

"Can’t just what?" Valerie’s voice sliced through the room, edged with bitterness. She closed the distance between them in a heartbeat, standing too close now, the scent of alcohol thick in the air between them. "You don’t own me."

The words hit harder than they should have, lodging somewhere deep in Judy’s chest. She clenched her fists at her sides, struggling to keep her composure. They were inches apart now, the stench of alcohol heavy on Valerie's breath. Judy could see through the haze in her eyes, noticing a flicker of something red and defiant. It was as if Valerie was challenging her, intentionally being harsh to provoke anger and push her away.

"It’s not about owning you, Val. It’s about knowing you’re safe."

For a fleeting moment, something in Valerie’s expression wavered, a crack in the armor she always wore. Vulnerability, raw and fleeting, before she blinked it away, shaking her head and shoving past Judy toward the bathroom.

"Maybe you should stop carin’ so much," she muttered, the door clicking shut behind her.

Judy stood rooted to the spot, staring at the closed door, the sound of the faucet running inside the small bathroom filling the space around her. The steady stream of water mocked her, drowning out the racing thoughts in her head, the words she wanted to scream. Her chest heaved with the weight of it all - anger, fear, hurt, exhaustion pressing down on her like a lead blanket.

Judy wanted to follow Val, to demand answers, to make sense of the turmoil. But instead, she sank back onto the edge of the bed, her hands trembling as she tried to steady her breathing. The night that had once felt calm and promising was now a battlefield of things left unsaid, and Judy had never felt more lost. With a strangled cry, she grabbed the nearest pillow and buried her face in it, muffling the frustrated scream that tore from her throat. Tears burned hot trails down her cheeks, stinging and relentless, but she let them fall. There was no one here to see, no one to judge the way she clutched the pillow tight, as if it could hold her together.

Judy stood at the edge of the pitch, stretching out limbs that still ached from the restless hours spent lying awake, staring at the ceiling, listening to Valerie’s breathing, while the night stretched endlessly before her. Every shift of fabric, every muted sigh, had been a tormenting reminder of the unspoken words that hovered between them.

“Are we warming up, or what?” Valerie's voice broke the quiet, arching with a provocative edge, her brow lifting in challenge.

Judy's gaze dropped before she could stop herself, catching the way Valerie's jersey had ridden up, revealing a sliver of toned stomach above the waistband of her shorts. Her fingers rested there, idly tracing the exposed skin, a casual gesture that sent a sharp twist of something unwelcome through Judy’s chest. It wasn’t just the sight of her - it was the weight of everything unsaid, the thick, charged air between them that felt ready to snap at the slightest provocation.

They were the first to arrive that morning, the field stretching before them in the pale dawn light. Valerie, for all her sharp edges and cool facade, looked frustratingly unaffected by the events of the previous night, while Judy felt both physically and mentally drained. No trace of the hangover, no sign of the turmoil Judy had endured. Valerie was here to train, while Judy was still trying to gather the pieces of herself from where they'd shattered.

Judy had risen early, unable to stand the suffocating quiet any longer. She'd made enough noise getting ready to ensure Valerie woke up - the deliberate kick of her boot against the floor had done the trick. Valerie had stirred, blinking blearily before rolling out of bed with a muttered curse, packing her things in silence. They'd left the room together, but Judy had taken the stairs instead of the elevator, unwilling to endure any awkward conversations on the way to the pitch. Val’s curt remark was the first communication since their altercation the previous night.

Now, instead of answering Valerie's challenge, Judy lunged for the ball, the muscles in her legs coiling with the familiar thrill of movement. She understood that the blue-haired striker sought more than casual passing and idle chatter while the rest of the team trickled onto the field. If Val wanted a fight, Judy was ready to give it to her.

Her foot connected with the ball, sending it spinning past Valerie with a precision that left the other woman momentarily caught off guard. Judy pivoted smoothly, slipping past before Valerie could react, the brief victory sending a flicker of satisfaction through her.

“Nice one,” Val acknowledged, her tone devoid of its usual teasing lilt, eyes dark and unreadable.

They both were aware that it wasn’t just another one-on-one game of ball control between two teammates. Valerie’s smile, though outwardly friendly, did little to mask the storm brewing beneath. The atmosphere between them had abruptly transformed. Valerie, now a feral creature wounded and cornered, launched into a ruthless assault. She was relentless, her elbow pressing into Judy's side, her shoulder driving forward with enough force to steal the breath from her lungs. Judy stumbled, momentarily thrown by the sheer force of it, and a flash of regret flickered in her mind - she should have known better than to get caught up in this game.

Valerie reclaimed the ball with brutal efficiency, her movements precise and merciless. Judy bit down on the inside of her cheek, frustration boiling up alongside something darker. Her body burned, not just from the physical strain but from the unrelenting push and pull between them - it was as though every ounce of anger, every flicker of jealousy, and every grievance from their recent confrontations converged, overwhelming her.

The intensity between them surged like a wildfire. They weren’t just training - they were fighting. Engaged in a battle of wills, each struggling to outmaneuver the other. Every touch, every move, every kick carried an edge of something far more dangerous than mere competition. The ball was no longer just an object - it was a weapon, a means of asserting control, of pushing back against the weight of everything they refused to say aloud.

And then, without warning, desire surged through Judy with an intensity that left her breathless. It was raw, primal, and completely misplaced. She wanted to pin Valerie down right there on the field, to take control in the most visceral way possible, to make her submit in a way that had nothing to do with the game they were playing. She wanted her to be exposed, to be vulnerable, just as Judy felt around her. The thought hit her like a sucker punch, and it took every ounce of willpower Judy possessed to forcibly shove that intrusive thought aside, to bury it beneath layers of stubborn resolve.

Valerie moved with an effortless grace that only fueled Judy's frustration. Every touch felt intentional, every stolen moment a taunt. Judy matched her step for step, their bodies colliding in ways that sent electric jolts through her veins. Their fouls became more deliberate, their jabs sharper, and still, neither of them yielded.

Judy, breathless and slick with sweat, managed to regain control, her foot driving the ball forward with precision born of sheer determination. But Valerie was right behind her. With a sudden, brutal tackle, her shoulder slammed into Judy's midsection, sending her sprawling to the ground. Pain exploded through Judy's ribs as she hit the turf, the breath leaving her in a ragged gasp. A sharp sting bloomed in her mouth where she’d accidently bitten down on her lip, the metallic taste of blood filling her senses.

“Oh fuck, Judy...” Valerie's voice cut through the haze of pain, rough with alarm. She dropped to her knees beside her, hands hovering uncertainly before they finally settled, trembling, on Judy's shoulder. “Are you okay?”

Judy stared up at her, breathing hard, caught between the ache in her ribs and the way Valerie's touch sent another, entirely different kind of pain spiraling through her chest. Val's expression was tight with worry, her brows drawn together in a furrow of concern. The rough, unyielding edge Judy had expected was nowhere to be found, replaced by something disarmingly tender. Valerie's hands moved with gentleness, skimming over Judy's ribs and side, carefully seeking out damage.

“I’m—” Judy began, her voice strained and breathless. She tried to sit up, but the sharp stab of pain that lanced through her side forced her back down with a wince. “I’m fine. Just… gimme a sec.”

She turned her head and spat a thin stream of blood onto the grass, her tongue cautiously exploring her teeth to ascertain whether her injury was limited to a split lip or if there was more damage. Copper flooded her mouth, thick and metallic, grounding her in the here and now. She let the pain settle in, welcomed it, even - a sensation she understood and could quantify, could endure. It was easier to focus on the sting in her lip than the riot of emotions still churning in her chest, emotions she couldn't quite name, let alone control.

Valerie's touch didn't falter. "Let me see," she murmured, her voice laced with something that sounded like guilt. Her fingers found Judy's chin, tilting her face up, eyes scanning for signs of deeper injury. Judy met her gaze, and noticed that in the Spanish sunlight, Valerie's eyes seemed unnaturally bright, like burnished steel catching the light.

Judy wanted to hold onto the anger, the raw frustration that had fueled their clash just minutes ago. She wanted to shove Valerie away, to demand answers, explanations - something to make sense of the chaos between them. But the worry etched into Valerie's features, the sincerity shimmering just beneath the surface, made it impossible.

“I’m sorry,” Valerie said softly, her thumb ghosting over the corner of Judy's mouth, smudging away a bead of blood. Her voice was stripped of bravado, laid bare in a way Judy hadn’t expected.

Judy swallowed, her throat tight. She could feel the heat radiating from Valerie, the closeness of her, and it was suddenly too much. Valerie’s eyes wandered down to Judy’s bloodied mouth, lingering there with an intensity that felt both unsettling and intimate.

“Don’t worry about it,” Judy said, her words barely holding together, like they might break apart under the weight of everything left unsaid.

A cough shattered the quiet between them, and both their heads snapped toward the sideline. A small crowd of teammates lingered there, watching with a blend of curiosity and barely concealed amusement. Judy groaned inwardly, the embarrassment cutting through her daze. She could already hear the teasing remarks forming behind their eyes, see the knowing glances exchanged.

“I’m gonna...” Judy gestured vaguely at her bloodied lip, pushing herself upright with Valerie's steadying grip. The ache in her muscles screamed in protest, but she forced herself to stand, to shake off the vulnerability. “Need to clean this up.”

Valerie's expression shifted, sliding back into the well-worn armor of professionalism as she nodded. Together, they made their way to the sidelines, setting aside the tension of their earlier confrontation to face the team and the day’s remaining practice.

As they approached, Rita's grin widened, her mouth already opening to deliver some undoubtedly clever remark. Judy shot her a look - sharp, unyielding. It was enough to make Rita reconsider, her smirk faltering as she snapped her mouth shut.

Judy exhaled slowly, rolling the tension from her shoulders.

Judy was deep in sleep when a sharp, ragged scream shattered the fragile quiet of the room, tearing her from the depths of unconsciousness. Her heart slammed against her ribs, the rush of adrenaline instant and merciless as she bolted upright. For a moment, disorientation reigned. Her eyes darted wildly, scanning the dark space for the source of the disturbance. The faint glow from the lamps outside seeped through the blinds, painting jagged patterns across the walls, twisting familiar shapes into something foreign and menacing. She held her breath, ears straining for any sign of an intruder lurking in the shadows. But there was nothing - no footsteps, no threats, just the distant hum of Barcelona pressing in from outside.

And then she heard it - a low, ragged murmur drifting from the other side of the room. Judy's gaze snapped toward the tangled mess of blankets on the bed across from her. The shape beneath them shifted, and another fractured whisper slipped through the dark.

Valerie.

Judy's jaw tightened, the bitter taste of something unresolved rising in the back of her throat. She shouldn't care. Not after everything. Not after the lies. Valerie had left - walked away without a word, left her drowning in the dark. Judy had promised herself she wouldn't be the one to come running anymore. And yet... despite herself, despite the anger coiled tight in her chest, Judy found her feet moving.

She crossed the short distance, standing at the edge of Valerie's bed, hesitating as she watched the woman thrash beneath the sheets. Sweat beaded on Valerie's forehead, hair clinging to damp skin. Her lips moved in frantic whispers, lost to whatever nightmare held her in its grip.

"So Mi... No, please... Song... I’m begging you... Please..."

Judy swallowed, her throat tight. “Val,” she murmured, careful, soft. “Val, wake up.”

Nothing.

Valerie only turned onto her side, her body taut with an unseen tension, muscles coiled tight beneath sweat-dampened sheets. Her breath came in shallow, ragged bursts, the kind that spoke of something lurking deep, something that refused to let go.

Judy exhaled slowly, lowering herself to her knees beside the bed. Her fingers hovered just above Valerie’s shoulder, hesitant, uncertain. With gentle insistence, she gave a small shake. “C’mon, Val. It’s just a nightmare. Wake up.”

The reaction was instant, and brutal.

Valerie’s eyes snapped open, wide and wild, pupils blown with panic. Before Judy could even draw breath, an iron grip clamped down on her wrist, vice-like and unrelenting. A startled gasp caught in Judy’s throat as Valerie shot upright, shoulders squared, the other hand curling into a tight, trembling fist - ready to strike, ready to fight. For a brief, breathless moment, there was nothing human in those storm-gray eyes. Just survival, raw and feral, the desperate instinct to defend, to destroy if necessary.

Then, recognition flickered like a weak signal breaking through static. “J-Jude?” Val’s voice cracked, husky with sleep and something close to relief, or maybe something far more fragile.

Judy forced herself to swallow the spike of fear, willed her pulse to slow even as it thundered in her ears. “You had a nightmare,” she said, keeping her voice even, steady, as though grounding them both with it. She flexed her fingers slightly under Valerie’s grip, a quiet reminder of presence. “It’s okay. You’re safe.”

The tension bled out of Valerie’s frame in slow, measured waves, her hold loosening, fingers slipping away, but hesitant, reluctant - like letting go of something she wasn’t quite ready to lose. But she didn’t pull back entirely. Instead, she just stared - searching, studying, as if trying to convince herself that Judy was real, that this wasn’t just another cruel trick of her mind.

Judy held her gaze, the exhaustion etched across Valerie’s features cutting deeper than it should. That familiar tug in her chest returned, the one she’d carried for longer than she cared to admit. But it wasn’t the same sharp-edged frustration, that helpless anger that used to burn hot in the pit of her stomach - the anger born from too many unanswered questions, too many nights wondering if Valerie was even still breathing. No, this feeling was softer now, worn down by too many soft moments like this. It made her want to chase away every ghost that refused to let Val rest, to fight battles she didn’t even understand yet.

She scolded herself silently, the bitter edge of self-reproach settling in. It shouldn’t have been this easy to let the gentleness creep in - the little gestures, the tender moments, the fleeting apologies that never quite amounted to the truth. It shouldn’t have mattered. Not without the full picture. Not without Valerie explaining what was so damn important that she couldn’t even send a message, couldn’t let Judy know she was okay. Judy wasn’t ready to let go the anger fully. Not until she could understand it all, every messy, complicated piece of it.

But the truth was - it did matter. Every small gesture, every soft smile, every tender touch. It all mattered.

And now, with Valerie sitting there - vulnerable, raw, almost broken - it gnawed at something deep inside her. Judy felt it in the way her fingers curled into the bedsheets, in the way her heart betrayed her with every too-soft beat. She despised it. Hated herself for it. For still wanting to reach out, to pull Valerie in and whisper that everything would be fine, even when she wasn’t sure if it ever really would be.

Judy sank onto the edge of the bed, releasing a slow, unsteady breath. “You scared the shit outta me, y'know,” she muttered, her voice quieter than she intended. “You said So Mi’s name... in your sleep. It sounded—” She hesitated, searching for the right word, but all she could settle on was, “—intense.”

Valerie exhaled, long and heavy, dragging a hand over her face as if trying to scrub away the exhaustion clinging to her. The shadows under her eyes were deep, dark hollows that told stories Valerie would never speak aloud. Once again, she offered no explanation. Same old story. Judy watched her, the vulnerability etched in the lines of her face, in the tired drop of her shoulders. And despite every reason she had to hold onto her anger, despite all the times she’d told herself she was done - really done - she couldn’t bring herself to walk away. Because no matter how much hurt Valerie had caused, Judy still cared. And she wanted to understand.

“Sorry,” the blue-haired woman murmured, her voice barely more than a breath. “For doing this again.”

Judy’s gaze sharpened. “Doing what?” she asked, confused.

A faint chuckle slipped from Valerie’s lips, tired but genuine. “Interrupting your beauty sleep, of course.”

Judy rolled her eyes, but the smile tugging at the corner of her mouth betrayed her. Damn her. Damn her for still being able to do this - make her smile, make her soften when she didn’t want to.

“Yeah, well…” Judy started, pushing herself to her feet with a jerk of her thumb toward her own bed. “Gonna try to get some of that beauty sleep.”

She made it all of one step before Valerie’s fingers curled lightly around her wrist - gentle this time, hesitant. Judy froze, heat prickling up her spine as she turned back, their eyes meeting in the darkness.

“Thank you,” Val whispered, the words so soft they nearly got lost in the stillness of the room.

Judy didn’t trust herself to respond. She only nodded, lingering in the moment for a heartbeat longer than she should have, before slipping away and retreating beneath her own covers.

Lying there, staring at the ceiling, she tried to make sense of it all. The distance between them felt smaller now, but it wasn’t gone. Forgiveness wasn’t something she could offer - not yet. But something had shifted. Something unspoken, fragile, hovering in the air between them like a question neither of them dared ask. Valerie looked different tonight. She was raw, vulnerable in a way Judy hadn't seen before. Not like someone who was here to use Judy, to take what she needed and leave, but like someone who’d been through hell and had come out the other side with scars too deep to show.

Judy was still mad. She had every right to be. But the iron grip of her resentment wasn’t as tight as it had been when she first arrived at the training camp. And that scared her more than she cared to admit. She tried to sort it out in her mind, but it was too complicated, too tangled for this moment. Sleep was a far simpler enemy to fight. So, she closed her eyes, forcing herself to push it all aside - at least for now.

The training session had been brutal, an unrelenting assault of drills and exercises that left Judy feeling as though her world was crumbling around her. Mistakes piled up like wreckage in her wake, each misstep heavier than the last. Her usually pinpoint passes veered off course, skimming past their intended targets with frustrating inaccuracy. The power behind her free kicks - once a source of quiet pride - was nowhere to be found, her shots dull and ineffective. Even the forechecking exercises, something she could usually execute in her sleep, felt alien, her timing consistently off by an annoying half-second. It was as if her body no longer obeyed her, weighed down by something heavier than fatigue.

She could have blamed the lingering ache in her side, a stubborn reminder of Valerie’s punishing tackle from the previous day, a dull throb that refused to be ignored. Or perhaps it was the constant awareness of Valerie's gaze, sharp and unyielding, tracking her every movement with an intensity that sent heat crawling up Judy’s neck. But deep down, she knew the truth. Her mind was elsewhere, tangled in thoughts she couldn't escape, emotions she couldn't name.

The breaking point came during the final scrimmage. The atmosphere on the field was thick with expectation, the kind that pressed down on her shoulders and made every step feel heavier. She could sense it in the way her teammates moved around her, the silent weight of their trust, their unspoken hopes. Judy had pushed through exhaustion, sprinting the length of the field with everything she had left, the goal looming ahead like salvation. And then—

She hesitated. A fraction of a second. A heartbeat too long. It was all Rebecca needed.

The goalkeeper lunged forward, her tackle a force of nature, all muscle and unrelenting power. The impact was seismic, sending Judy sprawling onto the turf. Pain exploded through her side, sharp and immediate, her ribs protesting with every labored breath. The world tilted dangerously, her vision tunneling, sound distorting into a distant murmur. Her teammates’ shouts seemed far away, muffled beneath the pounding in her ears, the unforgiving ache radiating through her body.

She lay there, dazed, frustration burning hotter than the pain. Before she could gather herself, Valerie was there. She dropped to her knees beside Judy, her touch both firm and careful, strong hands guiding her into a sitting position.

"Judy, are you hurt?" Val’s voice was a low murmur, but the urgency beneath it was unmistakable. Her eyes scanned Judy's face, the tension in them coiled tight.

Judy shook her head and winced, gritting her teeth as she tried to steady her breathing, the fire in her side refusing to fade. She barely had a chance to respond before she caught the movement out of the corner of her eye - Lucy standing just beyond Valerie’s shoulder, arms crossed, a smirk tugging at the corners of her mouth. The amusement in her gaze was unmistakable, a spark of something cruel and taunting.

Valerie stiffened, her expression darkening, sharp edges cutting into her features. Judy saw it coming before the words even left her lips.

"What the fuck is your problem?" Valerie’s voice was low, but there was no mistaking the venom in it. Her eyes, usually stormy and unreadable, burned with something fierce and protective.

Lucy's smirk wavered but didn't disappear entirely. She held her ground, her posture loose but defiant, the challenge clear in the tilt of her chin.

Judy, still fighting for breath, reached out, her fingers curling around Valerie’s arm in a silent plea. She didn’t need this - not now, not here, not with everyone watching. "Let it go, Val," she muttered, her voice rough with exhaustion, but resolute.

For a long, tense moment, Valerie didn't move. Then, with a slow exhale, she relented, her grip on Judy's shoulder gentling as she turned her focus back to her. Judy could see the battle in her eyes, the struggle to hold back the fire simmering just beneath the surface. Judy sighed, closing her eyes briefly, grounding herself in the steady pressure of Valerie’s hand, the distant hum of the field, and the ache in her ribs that promised to linger long after the game was done.

The sharp trill of the whistle cut through the heavy evening air, signaling the end of the session. Judy stood frozen, the weight of her failures pressing down on her like a lead blanket. Her mistakes lingered in the atmosphere, each one echoing in the distant chatter of her departing teammates, in the mocking ghost of Lucy’s smirk that refused to leave her mind. Resignation crept into her bones, dragging her shoulders into a slump, defeat settling in like an unwelcome companion.

Beside her, Valerie stood still, her breaths heavy, eyes flickering sideways with an unspoken concern that Judy refused to meet. The pitch around them emptied slowly, players trudging toward the showers, their steps dragging, exhaustion etched into every movement. Soon, it was just the two of them, the fading light stretching their shadows long across the turf.

Regina waited until the last player disappeared into the locker room before approaching, the steady thud of her boots on the artificial grass a warning in itself. Her sharp eyes flicked between them, reading the tension that pulsed in the silence, the way neither of them spoke nor looked at each other directly.

Arms crossed tightly over her chest, Regina’s voice was clipped, edged with that familiar authority that brooked no nonsense. “Both of you played like shit today,” she said, the bluntness of it landing like a slap. “There’s something going on between you - something that’s screwing with your game. And it’s starting to mess with the team’s chemistry.” She let the words settle, her gaze cutting through their silence. “So, care to explain?”

Judy shifted, resisting the instinct to glance at Valerie, knowing they were walking a thin line. She could feel Val’s presence beside her, tense and guarded, and she silently prayed she’d keep her mouth shut. Whatever this was - whatever tension was unraveling between them - there was no way Regina could know the truth. The past was theirs to carry, too messy and too raw to lay bare now.

When neither of them spoke, Regina sighed, exasperation curling at the edges of her voice. “You two were unstoppable during that first training,” she said, softer now, almost wistful. “It was thrilling to watch... one of the best duos I’ve seen in a long time. And now?” Her eyes narrowed. “It’s like you’re strangers out there. What changed?”

Judy swallowed hard, searching for the right words - something that wouldn’t give too much away but might satisfy Regina enough to end the interrogation. “We just weren’t in sync today, Reggie,” she said finally, the lie slipping through her teeth with practiced ease. “We’ll be better.”

Valerie nodded beside her, too quickly, her voice just a touch too eager. “Yeah. We’ll get there. Just need more time... more training together.”

A scoff sounded from behind them, cutting through the tension like a blade. “Oh, you’ll train all right,” Rogue’s voice carried across the empty pitch, hard and unrelenting. She stepped forward, arms at her sides, her expression a mixture of impatience and steely resolve. “Right fuckin’ now.”

Judy’s stomach dropped as Rogue’s gaze pinned them in place, cold and unyielding.

“Let’s see if a little extra conditioning helps you two figure your shit out.” A slow, almost cruel smile tugged at the older woman’s lips. “Start with suicides. Run to the line. Now.”

Judy’s muscles ached in protest before she even moved, but one look at Rogue's expression told her there was no arguing. Beside her, Valerie let out a low groan under her breath, but they both turned toward the pitch without another word. The air between them was thick with tension, their mutual frustration simmering beneath the surface, an unrelenting undercurrent that neither was willing to confront - not with Rogue and Regina’s watchful eyes on them.

The moment their feet hit the ground, everything else faded away. The punishing rhythm of their sprints became an outlet, each stride an attempt to outrun the turmoil festering inside. The sound of their ragged breaths, the dull thud of their soles pounding against the ground, all served as a welcome distraction from the words they weren't ready to say. When they reached the end of the first sprint and turned to start again, their gazes locked - brief, sharp, charged.

Judy’s patience snapped first. "You just had to suggest we train more," she hissed through clenched teeth, the strain in her voice betraying her irritation.

Valerie shot her a look, sweat glistening on her brow. "You know I didn’t mean right now, for fuck’s sake," she countered, her pace quickening as if trying to put distance between herself and the conversation.

Judy knew where this was heading, but she couldn't stop herself. She needed to release the pent-up frustration boiling inside her. Another run started, another dangerous thought escaped Judy’s lips. "You were so fuckin’ sloppy today," she spat, matching Valerie's pace stride for stride.

"I was sloppy?" Valerie's voice bristled with anger, her eyes narrowing. "You couldn’t deliver a precise pass to save your life!"

"You wanted the fuckin’ ball, I got you the fuckin’ ball," Judy snapped. "Didn’t matter, though—you lost it every fuckin’ time."

"I was double-teamed, and you did nothing to help! It’s like you wanted Rita to knock me flat again."

"If that’d help, why the fuck not?"

Valerie’s eyes darkened. "Well, in the end, you were the one eating grass. Didn’t help much, did it?"

Judy gritted her teeth, sweat rolling down her temple. "You weren’t watching their formations. You got trapped every single time. Learn to read the defense, rook."

"It would be easier if you passed the ball where I was actually going, not five miles off!"

"Bull-fucking-shit!" Judy yelled, her voice raw with emotion. "You weren't focused on them at all!"

"Because you were distracting me the whole fuckin’ time!"

Judy’s feet faltered, her breath catching in her throat. She reached the line and turned, her mind spinning as Valerie sprinted ahead. Her heart pounded with something far more potent than exhaustion. "How was I distracting you?" she called out, her voice strained.

Valerie didn’t answer, only ran faster. The realization hit her with the weight of a sledgehammer - they had crossed a line, spoken words that cut deeper than intended. But she wasn’t letting it end there. Ignoring the searing protest of her calves and the burning ache in her lungs, she surged forward, her determination driving her faster than she thought possible. With a desperate reach, she caught Valerie’s arm and yanked her to a halt.

Valerie’s chest heaved with exertion, her face flushed, damp strands of blue hair sticking to her forehead. The storm in her eyes flickered between anger and something more vulnerable. Yet, Judy remained resolute, her own gaze intense and unyielding. She needed answers, needed to unravel the tension that had been brewing between them for so long.

“Tell me, exactly how the fuck was I distracting you?” Judy demanded, her voice edged with raw intensity.

"Fuck, Jude," Val muttered, shaking her head. "This isn’t the time or place."

Judy tightened her grip on the other woman’s arm, her pulse hammering against her ribs. "No, fuck that. You’re going to tell me right now," she said, her voice was unwavering, her eyes locked onto Valerie’s. "You can’t just brush me off, play with your new toy in front of me, and then act like it’s none of my business who you’re with or where you’re staying. And now you're saying I’m the one distracting you?"

Valerie’s lips parted, and for a moment, Judy saw hesitation flicker across her face before it was replaced with defiance. "There’s nothing between me and Lucy," she snapped, her voice low and venomous.

"Cut the crap," Judy shot back, her breath ragged and uneven. "I’m done with the bullshit."

Valerie’s jaw clenched, her nostrils flaring. "There isn’t anything between me and Lucy!" she spat, stepping closer until their faces were mere inches apart. "I just needed something from her—but it doesn’t matter anymore. I told her to back off, to find someone who’s actually available—because I’m not. I left, Jude. Went to a bar just to clear my head. Just to get away from all this mess."

Judy’s eyes widened, disbelief etching her features. The words struck her like a jolt of cold water, but Valerie was far from finished.

Valerie's voice was raw, scraping against the thick tension hanging between them. "And you still don’t get it," she said, her eyes locked onto Judy’s face, searching, pleading. "For fuck's sake, Jude, it wasn’t just some fling. I wasn’t waiting for you to spread your legs so I could toss you aside like some plaything I’d grow tired of. What we had was real. I wanted you—all of you. The one who saw something more in me than just a broken mess. The one who showed me I was still capable of falling for someone. The one who made me feel at peace, who was there for me when I felt like I was about to explode. The one I’ve been dreaming about for months."

Her voice cracked on the last word, and she exhaled sharply, shaking her head as if to rid herself of the weight pressing down on her. "Fuck you for thinking you meant nothing to me. That’s the furthest thing from the truth."

Judy’s breath stuttered in her chest, the weight of Valerie’s words pressing down on her, sinking deep into the marrow of her bones. Silence stretched between them, heavy and suffocating, wrapping around her throat like a vice. Her hands trembled, betraying the maelstrom inside, and her lower lip quivered, a delicate tremor she couldn’t control. Tears blurred her vision, stinging and unrelenting, and she swallowed against the tightness coiling in her chest. Her gaze flickered down to Valerie’s lips for a fleeting moment before meeting her eyes again, and there it was - that unmistakable intensity, the heat that burned in Valerie's storm-gray gaze, tracing the shape of her mouth, lingering, waiting.

"Then why..." Judy's voice cracked, a whisper barely clinging to the charged air between them, her question trailing off into uncertainty.

Valerie swallowed hard, her expression shifting, softening in ways that made Judy's heart ache. "I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I ever put you in danger," she murmured, the confession barely above a whisper, a quiet admission of guilt.

Judy's throat worked around a lump she couldn't quite swallow. "What..." The word barely formed before it dissolved into the warmth radiating between them, the unbearable closeness of their bodies. Their fingers brushed together - hesitant, fleeting, a whisper of a touch that felt like an electric shock.

Valerie's gaze darkened, the vulnerability etched into her features carving itself deeper. "I can't," she said softly, voice trembling. "Please, Jude, don’t ask me... I’m not trying to keep things from you, and I’m not trying to hurt you. But some things... I just can't say. I need you to trust me."

The moment shattered like glass, the fragile tension giving way to something heavier, more unbearable. Judy stumbled back a step, the space between them suddenly feeling like a chasm she couldn’t cross. Valerie's shoulders sagged, her face carved with exhaustion, and Judy saw it then - the weariness, the weight of things left unsaid. And yet, the betrayal still festered deep inside Judy, a wound that refused to close without the answers she so desperately needed.

Her eyes darted around the empty field, the silence stretching endlessly now that the coaches and teammates had long since left. The realization hit her - they must have been running and shouting at each other for a long time, lost in their own turbulent emotions. In that moment, Judy felt the crushing weight of it all - the fight, the feelings, the questions clawing at her throat that she couldn't force out.

Her feet moved before her mind could catch up, and without a second thought, she pushed past Valerie, a collision of desperation and heartache that left them both reeling. She didn't look back, couldn't. The heat of Valerie’s stare burned into her back like a brand, but Judy kept moving, her pulse thundering in her ears, her breath ragged as she stumbled into the locker room. She barely registered the sound of the bathroom door slamming behind her, the sharp crack of it echoing like a gunshot through the hollow space.

Judy braced herself against the cold porcelain sink, fingers clutching the edges in a white-knuckled grip. Her reflection stared back at her, eyes wide and lost, the tremble in her lips betraying the chaos beneath her skin. This couldn't be happening. Not again. The familiar weight of panic settled over her like a dark tide, creeping up her spine, pressing against her ribs until each breath felt like a battle. Tears welled at the corners of her eyes, slow and inevitable, tracing down her flushed cheeks in thin, silver lines.

Her breath came in sharp bursts, shallow and uneven, the rapid rise and fall of her chest mirrored in the glass before her. The sound of it filled the small space, bouncing off the tiled walls in jagged, gasping echoes. A dissonant symphony of distress. Judy’s shoulders curled inward as if to shield herself from the relentless grip of emotion, but it was futile - she felt it all, raw and unyielding.

She was unraveling. Watching herself from the outside, helpless to stop it. The fear, the helplessness - old ghosts that refused to stay buried - wrapped around her ribs like iron bands. She thought she’d left this behind, thought she’d learned how to keep it at bay. But it had found her again, and she didn’t know how to fight it anymore. She found herself at a loss for how to reassert control when she couldn’t even feel her own emotions properly.

Beyond the door, Valerie’s presence lingered, a distant echo of footsteps pacing across the locker room tiles. Each soft sound was a reminder that she wasn’t alone, and yet it only made the walls press closer. The air thickened, heavy with the weight of unsaid words, unspoken fears. Valerie was there, just beyond reach, but Judy couldn’t let her in - not when she could barely hold herself together.

"Jude?" Valerie’s voice slipped through the crack beneath the door, quiet and uncertain, laced with something that sounded too much like fear.

Judy closed her eyes, willing the voice away, willing everything away. But the panic didn’t subside. It throbbed beneath her skin, curled tight in her gut, a storm that refused to break. She’d faced this feeling countless times before, rehearsed every outcome - but preparation meant nothing against the creeping grip of anxiety. It struck without warning, insidious and unforgiving, smothering reason beneath its crushing weight.

The cramped bathroom felt impossibly small, the air thick and stagnant. The walls seemed to edge closer with every shaky breath, pressing in until even the simple act of breathing felt like a battle she was losing. Her mind raced, craving escape into the fresh air outside, yet the knowledge that Valerie lingered just beyond the door intensified her distress.

She slid down against the door, the cool surface grounding her as she folded in on herself, knees drawn close to her chest. A strange certainty settled over her then - that Valerie was mirroring her on the other side, their bodies separated only by inches of wood and silence. The thought tethered her, a fragile thread in the suffocating dark.

And then, hesitantly, Judy reached out. Her hand found the narrow gap beneath the door, fingers trembling as they pressed against the cold tile. Desperate for connection. She expected nothing, but then she felt it - the softest brush of Valerie’s fingertips, a whisper of contact, tentative yet solid, real. The touch burned through her like a lifeline, grounding her, anchoring her to the slow, steady rhythm of Valerie’s breathing. Like an antidote to the tremors that gripped her.

Judy’s own breath hitched, then slowed, syncing with the quiet rise and fall on the other side of the door. The panic didn’t vanish, but it softened, easing its grip just enough for her to pull in a deeper breath, to feel something beyond the fear. They stayed like that for a long time, connected by touch and silence, until Valerie’s fingers slipped away, the soft shuffle of retreating footsteps leaving Judy alone once more. The absence was immediate, and it left Judy hollow.

Even when the quiet stretched on and her breathing steadied, Judy didn’t move. She remained there, curled against the door, listening to the fading echo of Valerie’s steps. She didn’t know if she could face her again, if she could find the words to explain what she didn’t fully understand herself. And the thought of that alone terrified her.

Judy burst into Rita’s room like a force of nature, the door crashing open with a resounding thud that echoed through the space. She stumbled inside, a ghost of herself, draped in the heavy cloak of sorrow. Her eyes, swollen and raw, burned with unshed tears, and her face - tear-streaked and pale was a landscape of grief. The agony carved deep into her features. Each sob wracked her slender frame, stripping away the last remnants of composure until all that remained was a fragile, trembling shell.

She wanted to speak, to force the words past the suffocating tightness in her throat, but they remained trapped, strangled by the weight of her anguish. Her lips trembled, parting in silent pleas that never fully formed, and her breath came in ragged, uneven gasps, punctuating the tense silence with their desperation.

Rita, curled up on her bed with a book resting lightly in her lap, startled at the sudden intrusion. The noise, the sheer force of it, shattered her quiet solitude. Her wide eyes darted to Judy, and in an instant, surprise melted into deep, unspoken concern. Without hesitation, she discarded the book with a flick of her wrist and rose swiftly, crossing the room with purpose.

"Shh, I’m here," Rita whispered, her voice a soft, soothing melody against the storm raging within Judy. She reached out, her hands steady but gentle, guiding Judy forward with the kind of tenderness reserved for something fragile, something precious.

The cool sheets beneath Judy’s knees felt alien against the heat of her emotions, the stark contrast making her feel even more raw, exposed. Rita’s hands remained firm, steady, as she coaxed Judy onto the mattress with deliberate, careful movements, pulling her close in a silent offering of comfort. Judy collapsed into the embrace, feeling Rita’s body curve protectively around hers, shielding her from the ghosts that clung to her skin like a second layer.

From the corner of the room, a flicker of movement - Stout, perched with her ever-present tablet in hand, observed them with quiet detachment. The blue light reflected off her impassive features, her gaze flitting briefly from the screen to the two women intertwined on the bed. She didn’t intrude, didn’t ask questions. She simply watched, clinical and distant, before returning to whatever data she was meticulously scanning, offering them privacy in the only way she knew how.

Judy let out a shuddering breath, pressing her face into the soft fabric of Rita’s shirt, inhaling the faint scent of her perfume. Slowly, the rigid tension in her muscles began to ease, dissipating like mist under the steady warmth of her friend’s touch. Gentle fingers smoothed through her hair, a rhythmic motion that soothed without words, grounding her in the quiet rhythm of Rita’s steady breathing. Each whispered reassurance was a thread, weaving through the jagged edges of Judy’s turmoil, pulling her back from the edge, tethering her to something solid, something safe.

The sobs that had once wracked her chest with violent force softened, tapering off into quiet, shuddering exhales. Her body, once locked in tension, gradually surrendered to exhaustion, the weight of it pressing down heavily. Rita’s arms tightened just slightly, a silent promise that she wasn’t going anywhere. The room, once filled with Judy’s ragged cries, settled into a lull, the only sounds left were the soft, even rise and fall of her breathing against Rita’s chest.

As the weight of exhaustion began to pull at her, Judy’s eyelids grew heavy, the embrace of sleep gently overpowering her distress. The world around her dulled, fading into a gentle haze of warmth and security. The room fell into a serene hush, its tranquility a stark contrast to the earlier storm of emotions. Judy’s breathing became a soft pulse against Rita’s chest, blending seamlessly with the quiet ambiance of her friend’s words of comfort.

Chapter Text

Chapter VIII | Through the Valley
I can't walk on the path of the right because I'm wrong.

The first light of dawn seeped through the curtains, painting the room in fragile glow. The air was thick with silence, the kind that felt like it had settled in long before she arrived, weaving itself into the walls, the floor, the very air she breathed. Judy stepped inside on bare feet, each movement slow, deliberate, as though she was wading through something dense and unseen. The soft press of the carpet muffled her steps, but even so, she held her breath, as if the slightest sound might shatter whatever uneasy peace remained.

She had hoped, irrationally, that Valerie would still be asleep - that she could gather herself before facing what she had come here to face. But that hope dissolved the moment her eyes found her.

Valerie sat on the edge of the bed, her back turned to the door, clad only in a pair of black shorts and a sports bra. The dim morning light traced the sharp angles of her shoulders, the curve of her spine, casting shadows that made her seem smaller than she was. A tremor ran through her, barely noticeable at first - until Judy heard it. A broken sound, raw and quiet, but undeniable. A sob.

Judy froze. A sharp ache speared through her chest, knocking the breath from her lungs. She had never seen Valerie like this. Never so open, so stripped of the walls she always kept between herself and the rest of the world. The tears that tracked down Val’s face caught in the weak light, shimmering like fault lines, exposing everything she had refused to say.

Judy felt something in her unravel, her heart breaking all over again.

Slowly, she sank down against the door, her back pressing into the solid wood as her legs folded beneath her. The carpet gave way beneath her weight, swallowing the soft rustle of her movement. She pulled her knees to her chest, wrapping her arms around them, as if holding herself together would keep everything else from breaking apart.

The silence between them stretched, thick with words left unsaid, with hurt that neither of them had been willing to touch. But now, with Valerie sitting there, shoulders shaking, unable to hold it in any longer - it was impossible to ignore. This moment wasn’t just a collision of their pain - it was the precipice, the turning point where everything that had been avoided would finally come to light. Judy couldn’t run from it anymore, and neither could Valerie.

Her fingers dug into the fabric of her jeans, knuckles turning white. She swallowed hard, trying to steady herself, but the truth was a living thing in her throat, clawing its way out.

“We can’t keep going like this, Val.” Her voice barely rose above a whisper, but it cut through the quiet like a blade. The words trembled, raw and worn, heavy with everything she couldn’t bear to lose. She exhaled, shaky, and let the truth settle between them, undeniable. "It'll destroy us both."

Valerie didn’t respond immediately. Her hands rose to her face, wiping at the tears with slow, trembling movements, as though trying to compose herself but lacking the strength to fully do so. After a moment, she shifted, her body moving with an almost reluctant grace. She turned and lowered herself to the floor, sitting directly in front of Judy, close enough that their knees nearly touched. Her gaze dropped to the space between them, her fingers fidgeting as though searching for courage in the patterns of the worn carpet.

Finally, she reached out, her hand brushing against Judy’s in a hesitant, tentative gesture. Judy didn’t pull away. Instead, she let their fingers entwine, her grip steady but not forceful, a small anchor in the tumult. Valerie’s gray eyes flickered up to meet Judy’s, the vulnerability in them striking like a blow. Val’s lips parted, but her voice, when it came, was barely above a whisper.

“I know,” she said, her tone raw with a mix of regret and understanding.

Judy exhaled shakily, the weight of her emotions threatening to crush her chest. “We have tournament coming up,” she began, her voice cracking as the words fought their way out. “One of the biggest events of my career. And I feel... broken. Because of you. Because of this.”

Valerie flinched, her expression tightening like she’d been struck. But Judy pressed on, her voice trembling with the strain of holding herself together. “You’re my teammate, Val. I have to share a field with you, a room with you. Every time I’m near you, I’m on the verge of another panic attack. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. I feel… empty inside, and there’s absolutely nothin’ I can do ‘bout it. And I... I can’t keep doin’ it. I can’t focus on soccer—not with you here, not ‘til we resolve... us.”

Valerie’s gaze fell again, her eyes tracing their joined hands as though trying to find an answer there. “You won’t look at me the same way,” she murmured, her voice barely audible.

“There’s no other way, Val,” Judy shot back, her tone thick with frustration and hope. “I’ve tried to ignore it. To move on. But I can’t. Not while you’re here, breathing the same air. Not after what you said to me yesterday. I can’t hate you anymore, even though I know I should. Instead, I hate myself for letting you in so easily, for trusting you without question. But it’s too late now. I’m broken. Ruined. You’re in my head, and I can’t erase you.”

Valerie’s eyes glistened, her lips pressing together as if to contain a sob. “Jude... I’m scared that what I’m about to tell you will ruin you even more.”

Judy let out a bitter laugh, the sound sharp and fractured. “I want to say that nothing could break me more than this, but I’d be lying if I did. So just... stop dragging it out, Val. Tell me the truth. There’s nothing else we can do.”

Valerie swallowed hard. Her voice was heavy when she finally spoke, each word thick with dread. “So Mi… she... she got herself tangled up with the wrong people. The kind of people who don’t just ruin lives but destroy them completely. Arms dealers. Corrupt officials. Mercenaries. The kind of danger you can’t just walk away from. And I had to help her.”

Judy’s breath caught in her throat, her pulse thundering in her ears. The air between them felt impossibly fragile, as though one wrong word might shatter what little connection remained. But she held Valerie’s gaze, her resolve unbroken, even as her heart splintered further.

“Start from the beginning,” Judy said quietly, her voice steely despite the tears threatening to spill.

Valerie yanked the door shut behind her, the heavy metal groaning before clicking into place. She leaned back against it, letting out a sharp breath as the quiet of the hallway pressed in. A dim, flickering neon sign outside the cracked window cast jagged shadows along the walls, its sickly pink glow stuttering unevenly across the grime-streaked floor.

Her phone buzzed in her pocket, the vibration thrumming against her palm as she pulled it free. She didn’t bother checking the screen before answering.

“The fuck you want? I’m busy.” Her voice was low, clipped, her irritation bleeding through every word.

The response came immediately, the tone on the other end sharp and unyielding. “You know damn well what this is about, V. Word is you nearly put your old informant in a coma last week.”

Valerie’s jaw clenched as she stared down at the scuffed floorboards, her free hand curling into a fist. “Wouldn’t be a big loss,” she bit out. Her gaze flicked toward the door she’d just closed, to the warmth radiating from the other side – to Judy, who was waiting for her. She was wasting time here. “Cut the sanctimonious crap. You’ve got more skeletons in your closet than I do, too much blood on your hands to be preachin’. What the hell do you want?”

A frustrated sigh crackled through the line, static lacing the silence. “She’s in Dogtown. Doesn’t care about the heat she’s drawing, not with Hansen pulling strings. But he’s playing her, V. The second she stops being useful, she’s dead. She’s in danger.”

Valerie let out a sharp, humorless laugh. “And why the fuck should I care?”

“Don’t play dumb. I know you better than that. You care, even when you don’t want to. Look, I’ve got an offer. You know what needs to be done. And if we do it, you’ll get exactly what you’ve been chasing.”

Her grip on the phone tightened, knuckles whitening. “No. I’m out. Done with your bullshit. I’ve got bigger priorities.”

“I need you on this, V. We both know I can’t do it alone. And you owe me.”

Valerie barked out another laugh, colder this time. “Owe you? That’s fuckin’ rich. Don’t act like she was the only one who left me to rot. You did the same fuckin’ thing—just three years later.”

The line went quiet for a moment, the weight of her words hanging between them. When the voice returned, it was steadier, quieter. “And yet, you forgave her. You always do. Look, I showed you last time that I’m on your side. If that’s not enough, remember this—you’re still one of us, V. Myers botched Brazil for you. Deployed another team, threw the mission to shit. That’s the only reason you’re alive. And couple months ago I dragged you out of that hellhole. I put you back together when no one else gave a damn.”

Her throat tightened as old wounds reopened, memories clawing their way to the surface. “Fuck you,” she muttered, her voice trembling with restrained fury.

“You want out, don’t you? Myers signed off on it. Clean slate. No more files, we scorch these. Isn’t that what you’ve wanted from the start?”

Valerie hesitated, the silence stretching out. Her reflection caught her eye in the cracked window across the hall - a worn, tired face staring back at her, sharp-edged and haunted, stuck between the weight of her past and the fragile hope of a future.

“I need assurance,” she finally said, her voice colder now, tempered steel.

“Tomorrow. 1900. Usual spot by the docks. Don’t be late.”

The line went dead. She lowered the phone slowly, the emptiness of the hall swallowing her whole. A long exhale escaped her lips as she stared at the faint glow of the neon, its flicker matching the unsteady rhythm of her thoughts.

***

The air inside the abandoned building was thick with dust, the scent of rust and decay clinging to every fractured beam and crumbling surface. Valerie moved carefully, boots crunching softly over scattered debris, her senses attuned to the silence that stretched between each cautious step. Beside her, the dark-skinned man moved with heavy, deliberate grace of someone accustomed to the dark. His broad frame blended into the gloom, muscles coiled beneath his jacket, ready to strike.

They were searching for a way into Dogtown - a backdoor past Hansen’s patrols, a gap in the net that wouldn’t set off alarms. Hansen was always watching, his men burrowed into every broken street and shadowed alley. A misstep would cost them more than just their cover.

A soft buzz broke the tense quiet. Valerie felt the familiar vibration against her ribs, the subtle pulse of a tether she wasn’t ready to sever. She reached for her phone, the screen glowing in the dim light, illuminating a name she knew by heart. Judy. Her lips quirked at the sight, a reflex, something small and private. In a world of ghosts and betrayals, these messages had become her one real thing - a connection she couldn’t afford to lose.

But before she could read it, a hand shot out. “No comms past this point,” the man muttered, voice low, edged with command. His fingers closed in, reaching to rip the device from her grasp.

Valerie shifted, quick and instinctive, dodging his grip and tucking the phone close to her chest. Her heart kicked up a notch, the resistance automatic. “Not happening.”

He exhaled sharply through his nose, irritation flickering in his sharp, dark eyes. “We’re on our own now,” he said, voice tight with warning. “They’ll track you through that thing. Disconnect it.”

“But—”

A scoff. Dry. Unimpressed. He turned away, inspecting the ruins - the rusted skeleton of a car half-buried in debris, the sagging mattresses piled against the far wall, the remnants of lives abandoned. “You really gonna bitch about this?” he muttered. “What are you, twelve? What’s so damn important anyway? You waiting for a transfer announcement? Hoping some sponsor finally gives a shit? Or is it some groupie desperate for another taste of Night City’s biggest star?”

Valerie’s teeth clenched. “Fuck you.”

In one fluid motion, she yanked the data shard from her phone and shoved it into the inner pocket of her jacket. Then, without a second thought, she hurled the device over the edge. It spun once through the air before vanishing into the darkness below. A second later, a distant crack echoed from six stories down. It was gone.

The cold pit in her stomach didn’t go with it.

That phone had been her lifeline. A thread tying her to something outside this goddamn nightmare. To Judy. To the only person who made her feel real, like she wasn’t just a weapon waiting to be used. Now, Judy would be in the dark. No word. No warning. Just silence. Valerie could only hope this wouldn’t take long - that Judy would still be there when she came back.

She swallowed hard, forcing down the bitterness curling in her throat. The man watched her, arms crossed over his chest. He wasn’t gloating. Wasn’t mocking her now. Just studying her with that unreadable, knowing expression.

“This was a dream, V,” he said, quieter this time. “Let it go. You got too attached to this fake life. Your mark was Tyger Claws, Stout and Militech. We got what we needed. Time to move on.”

Her jaw tightened. “What if I don’t want to move on from this?”

He let out a dry, humorless chuckle. “That’s your retirement plan? You like the spotlight that much?” His head tilted slightly, eyes narrowing. “Or is it the groupies?”

Valerie’s expression darkened. “I’m good at this,” she murmured, voice firm, steeled against whatever bullshit he was about to throw at her. “At soccer.”

His gaze locked onto hers, steady and sharp. “You’re also good at killing.”

The words sat heavy between them.

Valerie inhaled slowly. “The difference is—I don’t want to kill anymore. I don’t want this fuckin’ mess. I want out. I want something normal.”

The man didn’t so much as blink. “Normal,” he repeated, the word tasting foreign on his tongue. Then he exhaled, shaking his head slightly. “That’s funny... But right now it doesn’t matter what you want. We’ve got a mission.” His eyes flicked to the door ahead, his hand resting lightly on the weapon at his hip. “Non-lethal’s off the table. Three guys in the next room. Hansen’s dogs, I’d bet.”

Valerie’s fingers found the knife at her belt. Cold steel. Familiar weight.

“We get Songbird back, and I’m free,” she said, steady, each word deliberate. “You promised. Don’t break that promise, Sol.”

A grim nod. “You’ve got my word. Now go.”

She held his gaze for a moment longer. Then, with a slow, steady breath, she slipped into the shadows ahead.

***

The Black Sapphire pulsed with synthetic opulence, a mirage of wealth and power draped in golden light and shifting shadows. Crystal chandeliers refracted the glow into splintered halos across the marble floors, where the city’s predators prowled in silk and steel. Laughter rippled beneath the hum of conversation, the clink of crystal against crystal ringing like quiet gunfire. The air was thick with the scent of aged whisky, expensive cigars, and the kind of secrets people killed for.

From the balcony above, Valerie watched it all unfold. The polished underbelly of Night City’s elite - politicians fattened by corruption, gang lords lounging with the ease of kings, corpo sharks masked in charm, their teeth hidden behind polite smiles. They were all here for something - power, leverage, a name whispered in the right ear. Nothing in this place was given freely.

She leaned against the steel railing, the cool metal grounding her as she swirled the amber liquid in her glass. The whisky burned low and steady as she took a sip, its heat settling the coil in her gut. The emerald sheen of her suit caught the light, its fabric blinking faintly, alive with quiet energy. She didn’t belong here - but then again, neither did half the people milling about, wearing masks of civility over sharpened teeth.

A touch - light, barely there - settled on her shoulder. Not enough to startle, but enough to pull her from her thoughts.

“Val… you’re here.”

She didn’t need to turn to recognize the voice. Still, she didn’t speak. Just lifted the glass to her lips, drawing out the moment, giving herself a breath before she faced the past. The presence beside her didn’t waver, lingering even as the silence stretched thin between them.

Finally, Valerie shifted her gaze. So Mi stood beside her, but she wasn’t the same. Not entirely.

The last time Valerie had seen her, there had still been something human in the way she moved, in the way she carried herself. Now, chrome curved along her back, seamless plating fusing with flesh in an intricate, unnerving blend. A ghost of who she once was, her humanity eroded piece by piece, reforged in metal and circuitry. Valerie’s chest tightened. The sight of her felt like a blade slipping between her ribs - silent, precise, cutting deeper than she wanted to admit. More machine than woman now. Cold metal where warm skin had been.

So Mi caught the look, and for a moment, her carefully composed mask wavered. Then, with a forced smirk, she exhaled through her nose. “Not what you expected, huh? Is it the haircut?” Her voice held the shape of a joke, but the edges were too sharp.

Valerie let the corner of her mouth twitch in the ghost of a smile. “Dress looks good on you.”

So Mi stilled. Just for a second. A flicker of something unspoken passed over her face, quick enough that most wouldn’t have caught it. Then she sighed, shoulders shifting under the weight of something unseen. “Val, I want to explain. I’ve made… a lot of mistakes.” Her voice dipped, quieter now, raw beneath the polished exterior. “What happened in Brazil wasn’t—”

“We’re taking you back to Langley, Song. You’re in danger.”

So Mi stilled. Her hands curled into tight fists at her sides, the polished metal of her knuckles catching the low light, gleaming like sharpened steel. But it wasn’t the chrome that unsettled Valerie. Not anymore. It was the look in her eyes - raw, unguarded.

Fear.

She had never seen Song afraid. Not even when they were outnumbered and outgunned, neck-deep in some godforsaken operation where the odds were stacked against them. Back then, So Mi had been untouchable. Calm. Professional. Playful, even - a quiet smile on her lips as she carved through enemies like they were nothing. But now… now she looked like a cornered animal.

"I’m afraid that won’t be possible," So Mi said, her voice barely above a whisper. "I still have things to do here. And Hansen… he won’t let me go."

Valerie’s grip on her glass tightened. The condensation on the surface made it slick, the cold pressing into her fingers. "What are you doing here, Song? What the fuck is this about? Let me help you. Please. Come with me. We’ll figure it out."

So Mi’s lips parted, but no words came. Her gaze flicked past Valerie’s shoulder, and in an instant, the color drained from her face. A presence loomed behind them, draped in darkness and gold. Reed. His tailored suit fit him like a second skin, the subtle gleam of its gold-threaded accents catching the ambient glow of the room. He didn’t need to speak to be a threat - his mere existence was one.

"Did you make up for lost time already?" His voice was smooth, measured, but devoid of warmth.

"I’m not going anywhere, Sol," So Mi replied, deadpan.

Solomon tilted his head, watching her with a quiet calculation. "Figured. We want either you or the device. Your choice." A pause. Then, with a slow, knowing smirk, he added, "Oh… and did you fill in our precious V on why you're actually here?"

Valerie’s eyes snapped to Songbird. Her jaw tightened.

"Of course, you didn’t tell her the whole truth," So Mi’s voice was laced with something sharp - disappointment, maybe. Her gaze flicked back to Reed, scrutinizing him. "Manipulation and half-truths. Your favorite tricks. Guess the old dog didn’t learn any new ones. But… it makes sense. Otherwise, she wouldn’t be here."

Solomon chuckled, a low, knowing sound. "Why would an old dog need new tricks? The old ones still work just fine." His gaze flicked to Valerie, as if gauging her reaction. "True, she wouldn’t be here if I’d told her everything. Thought you’d take care of that part. In case she decided to break the messenger’s jaw."

Valerie’s patience frayed, snapping like wire under tension. "What the fuck is happening here?"

So Mi inhaled, slow and shaky. "I’m dying, V." The words came out like a confession, bare and unadorned. "Got too close to the Blackwall. Hansen has the cure. So, I need to stay. If I run, I’m dead. And Sol’s not here to save me - he’s here for the neural matrix."

The words hit Valerie like a fist to the ribs, knocking the breath from her lungs. She swallowed hard, fingers twitching against the glass in her hand.

"Secret’s out," Solomon muttered, tossing back a glass of champagne with a flick of his wrist. “And, Song, just so we’re clear—I’m here for you. I’d rather take you back than that device. Myers made it clear, it’s your choice.”

Before Valerie could respond, the atmosphere shifted. A presence pressed into the space like a blade slipping beneath the ribs. Kurt Hansen. He moved with a calculated ease, dressed in simple combat trousers, and black t-shirt - but there was nothing simple about him. His gaze slid between Valerie and So Mi with an unsettling curiosity, as if weighing them against some unseen metric.

"Care to introduce me to your friends?" His voice was smooth, dangerously pleasant. "It’s not often I’m simply not familiar with guests attending my own party. And I never forget a face." He extended a hand, the movement slow, deliberate. "Kurt Hansen."

Valerie stared at it, unmoving.

"Name’s V," she said finally. "So Mi’s plus one."

Hansen chuckled, dropping his hand. "Plus two, I’d say." His gaze lingered on Solomon before shifting back to So Mi. "In any case, enjoy your evening. Well… I need to grab you, darling. There are guests dying to meet you."

So Mi didn’t look at him. Instead, she set her empty glass carefully on the table beside Valerie, her fingers lingering against the rim for just a second too long. Then, with a quiet finality, she said, "I’m all yours, Kurt. See you soon, V."

As Hansen led So Mi away, Reed leaned against the railing, watching them go with disinterest. Valerie, however, kept her focus on the champagne flute Song had left behind. Something glinted at the bottom. A data shard. With a practiced sleight of hand, she slipped it into her jacket pocket before the dark-skinned agent could notice.

Her pulse quickened. Whatever game was being played here, she was already a part of it. And she wasn’t planning to lose.

***

Valerie sat hunched on a filthy, stained mattress, the stuffing clawing through its torn fabric, the stink of mold heavy in the air. The room was suffocating with damp and decay, walls cracked and smeared with old graffiti, the floor littered with debris long abandoned by those who had once holed up here. In the distance, Night City still pulsed, neon bleeding through shattered windows, a fractured heartbeat she could never quite escape. But here, in Dogtown’s rotting core, the city’s roar faded into something dull and ghostly. Here, the lights didn’t dance. They flickered, sputtered, and died. A graveyard for the forgotten. A place where shadows stretched long and promises went to die.

And Valerie almost felt at home in its cold indifference.

Beside her, the burner phone lay discarded on the ground, its cracked screen catching a sliver of flickering light. Her data card, heavy with the weight of unsent words, sat untouched in the inner pocket of her jacket.

Seven days had passed since she last reached out to Judy. Seven days of silence thick as the smog rolling over the skyline, seeping into her lungs, settling deep in her bones. Seven long, suffocating days, swallowed by Dogtown’s shadows. She wondered how Judy would sound if she called - angry, hurt, or worse… indifferent. Maybe she’d stopped waiting. Maybe she’d given up. The thought coiled in Valerie’s gut, a sick twist of fear and guilt that wouldn’t loosen.

Her fingers twitched above the burner phone, the urge almost unbearable. One call. One message. Just enough to let Judy know she was still breathing, still fighting, still intending to come back. Let her know that she still cared.

But fear clenched around her throat before she could move. It wasn’t just Hansen watching anymore. The FIA was circling too, their reach was longer. And they played dirtier. A single call would be all it took - for them to hear, to dig, to follow the thread back to Judy. They had eyes everywhere, hands in places she hadn’t even considered. She knew how this worked. If they found out what Judy meant to her, they wouldn’t hesitate. They’d use her as leverage. That’s all love ever was to people like Reed, people like Myers. A leash to keep her compliant, to own her, to drag her back in line.

Hansen might have been watching her before, but now she had a second noose tightening around her throat. One wrong move, and it wouldn’t be her suffering the consequences. So, she let the phone sit. Let the silence fester, stretch wide and empty like a canyon too vast to cross. Maybe it was cowardice. Maybe it was the only way to keep Judy safe. Either way, Valerie swallowed the ache and let the loneliness settle in.

Her gaze dropped to the data shard in her palm instead. She turned it over between her fingers. It had been burning a hole in her thoughts all evening, an itch she couldn’t scratch. Answers, maybe. Lies, just as likely. The urge to slot it in burned in her veins, but time wasn't on her side. Reed would be back from his patrol soon, and digging into the information on the shard now wasn't worth the risk. Not yet. She exhaled sharply, stuffing the shard back into the inner pocket of her jacket. For now, she’d wait. For now, she’d sit in the dark, with only her ghosts for company.

The door creaked open, breaking the suffocating stillness. Reed stepped in. His presence was solid, unshakable as always. He scanned the room before giving her a curt nod. No tails tonight. No ghosts lurking in the dark. For now, they could breathe.

The chair scraped against the floor as he dragged it closer, spinning it around before sinking into it backward. He rested his arms across the backrest, posture loose, but the tension in his shoulders told a different story. A weight that hadn't yet settled. His face, usually carved from stone, had softened just enough for something to slip through - something that almost looked like regret.

“I can explain,” he said, voice low, measured. The air between them thickened, weighed down by the unspoken.

Valerie sat up straighter, muscles taut, every instinct telling her to brace for impact. Her eyes narrowed, but her voice remained steady. “I’m all ears.”

The room felt smaller now, like the walls themselves had leaned in to listen. Outside, Dogtown’s restless hum pulsed through the cracks, neon reflections twitching against the dirt-streaked windows.

Reed exhaled, slow and deliberate. “Brazil was a smokescreen,” he began. “A cover for something bigger. Much bigger. Songbird had to betray you. It wasn’t personal. She needed to get in deeper.”

The words struck like a slow-moving bullet - quiet, precise, and inevitable.

“At first, Myers wasn’t willing to compromise the mission to pull you out,” he continued. “You were signed off as collateral.” A pause. Barely a breath. Then, almost reluctantly, “But in the end, she made a different call. We got you out. You were too important to lose.”

A sharp laugh almost escaped her, bitter and mirthless, but Valerie swallowed it down. Collateral. That’s what they were. What they had always been. Just pawns. Just pieces on Myers’ board, moved and sacrificed as needed. Maybe she had changed her mind at the last second. Maybe she hadn’t. Didn’t matter. The only reason Valerie was still breathing was because it suited someone else's agenda.

She forced her expression into something unreadable, but Reed was watching her too closely. Looking for cracks. “It didn’t matter,” he said after a moment, his voice quieter now. “A few weeks later, Song went rogue for real. Ignored orders. Disappeared with the group she was infiltrating.” He shook his head slightly. “I don’t know why... She was off-grid until recently. First sighting was here, with Hansen.”

Val felt her pulse drum against her ribs. The pieces rearranged themselves in her head, shifting, forming new patterns, new inconsistencies.

“That new chrome?” she asked, though she already knew the answer.

Reed’s jaw tightened. “Not by choice.” He hesitated, just for a fraction of a second, then continued. “It’s probably the only thing keeping her alive.” He leaned forward slightly, voice dropping lower, weightier. “She got too close to Blackwall, V. Way too close. She’s dying. Whatever Hansen has… it’s the only thing that can save her. A cure, or something close to it.”

He let the words settle, let their weight press down between them before delivering the final blow.

“Myers wants one of two things—Songbird or the device. Doesn’t care which.”

Valerie’s breath remained steady, but her mind was already racing ahead, cutting through the noise, the misdirection, the half-truths wrapped in careful deception. She sifted through the pieces, searching for the ones that didn’t fit.

Reed watched her, patient but expectant. Then, with a voice edged in quiet resolve, he said, “But I want both. I won’t leave her here to die.” His gaze, stripped of all pretense, locked onto hers. “We can help her.”

Valerie’s jaw tightened. The pieces still didn’t fit. So Mi - desperate, cornered. Myers - playing her usual long game. Reed - caught somewhere in between, tangled in the wires of his own convictions. And her - just another piece on the board, whether she liked it or not. She couldn’t trust either side.

Her throat felt dry as she swallowed. “So all of this,” she murmured, her eyes flicking up to meet Reed’s, “dragging me here, keeping me in the dark… was just to make me a pawn in your game?”

He didn’t flinch. “You were never a pawn. You’re the only one who can get close to her. And now, you’re the only one who can finish this.” Then, softer—just enough to be dangerous—“We can get a happy ending here, but only if you get involved.”

A hollow laugh almost made it past her lips, but Valerie bit it back. A happy ending. What a fucking joke.

Her gaze drifted past him, out toward the cracked window where neon flickered faintly like a dying heartbeat. She didn’t answer right away. The weight of it all settled over her, thick and suffocating. She could walk away. Leave So Mi to whatever fate Hansen had in store for her. Let Reed chase ghosts on his own. Let Myers pull the strings without another disposable piece to move. But it wouldn’t matter. If she left, they’d all end up dead.

Her fingers brushed against the burner phone beside her, tracing the cold, lifeless screen. She couldn’t call Judy. Not now. Not with the walls still closing in, not when every move she made was being watched. But the thought of staying in this game, of being Myers’ weapon again, made something deep in her chest twist.

Reed was still watching. Waiting.

“You still in, V?”

She didn’t look at him when she answered.

“I don’t have a choice, do I?”

***

The air was thick with the metallic tang of rust and rain as Valerie perched on the edge of a cracked concrete block, one boot idly tapping against its chipped edge. Behind her, Dogtown murmured in the distance - gunfire popping like distant fireworks, engines growling low against the wind, the ever-present hum of a place that refused to die. But here, just outside the tunnel’s gaping entrance, the chaos felt muffled, held at bay by crumbling walls and the uneasy stillness of what lay ahead. The place reeked of damp decay, like secrets long buried but never forgotten.

A few feet away, Reed stood with arms folded, his sharp gaze cutting into her like he was trying to pry open her skull and pick apart the tangled mess inside. He was patient, sure, but not endlessly so. She met his stare with a smirk, the kind that said she knew exactly what he was thinking - and didn’t care enough to explain.

“Donnybrook?”

“Yup.”

Reed exhaled sharply, his irritation barely restrained. “You know that’s not a plan, right? That’s just a fancy way of saying we’re about to drown in shit.”

Valerie shrugged, pushing herself off the concrete block with an easy grace. “Any better ideas?” Her boots hit the ground with a dull thud, her motion fluid, effortless. She tilted her head toward the tunnel’s entrance, dark and yawning. “This is it. Best shot we’ve got. Song showed us a way into their hideout. Heavily guarded, sure, but it’s that or nothing. Unless, of course, you’ve got some hidden masterstroke of genius you’ve been sitting on?”

Solomon’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t take the bait. “Could be a trap,” he said instead, voice measured. “Song might be stringing us along, making sure we don’t screw up her plans.”

Valerie’s expression didn’t so much as flicker. “She could’ve killed us at the Black Sapphire if that was the play,” she countered smoothly. Adjusting the weight of the bag slung over her shoulder, she turned to face him fully, gaze unwavering. “And in case she decides to get cute, we’ve got something that’ll burn her.”

She took a step closer, the space between them shrinking, the air crackling with something unspoken. “So, decision time, Reed. You coming with me to haul that stubborn idiot out, klep the tech, and drag her back to Langley? Or are you just gonna stand around and watch me do all the heavy lifting?”

Reed didn’t move, didn’t blink. “Why the rush?”

The question landed heavier than it should have. For a second - just a second - Valerie hesitated. Not enough for most people to notice. But Solomon wasn’t most people.

“I need this to be over,” she said finally, each word deliberate, measured. “I want my freedom, Reed. I want out.”

His gaze sharpened, searching her face for something, anything. She met it head-on, impassive, refusing to give him the satisfaction of peeling back her layers. Because beneath it all, the truth was more complicated than freedom. There was someone waiting for her. Someone she hadn’t seen in far too long. Someone she couldn’t keep waiting forever. Judy’s face surfaced in her mind, unbidden - a flash of warmth, of something safe and steady in a world that refused to be either. A reminder of what was at stake. Of what she stood to lose if she didn’t see this through.

But that wasn’t for Reed to know. That was hers to carry.

After a long beat, Sol sighed. “Alright,” he said, his tone resigned but firm. He stepped forward, falling into stride beside her as she turned toward the tunnel’s black maw.

***

Pain pulled Valerie from the abyss, slow and grinding, like the relentless tide eroding jagged rock. It throbbed behind her eyes, deep and pounding, each pulse hammering in sync with the shallow drag of her breath. The coppery tang of blood thickened her throat, clinging to her tongue, metallic and bitter. 

The memories hit - sharp, jagged flashes slicing through the fog. The tunnels. Winding, stretching deep beneath Dogtown’s bones. Her own breath, slow and measured, lost in the heavy silence. The weight of the pistol in her grip. Each step calculated, shadows her only cover, pulse hammering against her ribs with the knowledge that one misstep meant death. The hideout looming ahead, tension coiled in every muscle as she crept closer, only to realize too late—

The fight had already begun.

The acrid stench of burnt flesh struck her first, curling in thick plumes of smoke that coiled toward the ceiling. The taste of it clung to the back of her throat, sour and sickly. She barely had time to take it in before her gaze snapped forward to the lone figure. Song. She stood at the center of it all.

She was poised, backlit by the smoldering ruins of a body at her feet. The emergency lights painted her in harsh reds and deep shadows, turning her into something almost unreal, a specter cut from fire and violence. In her hand, the neural matrix - ripped from the device.

And then—

Pain. A flash of silver, too quick to track. A sharp, searing pull at her side. Valerie barely registered the impact before the world tilted, her knees buckling beneath her. The floor rushed up to meet her, cold and slick beneath her palms, the taste of iron sharp against her teeth.

Too fast. She’d been too fucking slow. And now she was paying the price for her sloppiness.

A groan caught in her chest as she forced her eyes open, blinking against the haze that blurred the edges of the world. The room swam into focus in fractured, stuttering pieces. She tried to move, but her body rebelled. The knife lodged deep in her side pulsed with every breath, the raw, searing agony forcing a choked sound from her lips. She slumped back against the cold metal column she’d been thrown into, her vision tilting as she struggled to steady herself.

Across the warehouse, bathed in the pulsing glow of crimson light, stood So Mi. But not the So Mi Valerie had once known. Not the woman who had laughed with her, protected her, even abandoned her. That woman was gone. This was someone else - something else. Her posture was unnaturally rigid, her expression one Valerie didn’t recognize - cold, detached, and brimming with something inhuman.

“Song…” Valerie rasped, her throat raw, her voice barely more than breath. She braced her forearm against the column, forcing herself upright despite the way her body screamed in protest. Blood trickled from the corner of her mouth, warm and metallic as it smeared against her sleeve. “Don’t—don’t do this.”

So Mi turned with an unsettling slowness, her movements liquid, too precise. When she spoke, her voice carried an undercurrent of distortion, layered and jagged like overlapping frequencies. “Do you even understand what you’re asking, Val?” The red glow around her hands crackled, lightning arcing between her fingers. “Do you understand what they—”

“You’re still in there,” Valerie cut her off, her words sharp, desperate. She gritted her teeth against the pain and lifted a shaking hand, gesturing weakly toward the storm of energy coiling around So Mi like a living thing. “I know you. You can fight this.”

So Mi’s laughter was sharp and bitter, echoing through the warehouse. “You know nothing,” she spat, the words slicing the air between them. “They used me, Valerie. Just like they used you. Like they’re still using you. They turn us into weapons, and when we break, they toss us aside.” Her fingers twitched, and the warehouse trembled. “You think you’re capable of helping me?” You’re only playing their game.”

Valerie’s earpiece crackled to life. Reed’s voice cut through the suffocating tension, steady but urgent. “V, ICEbreaker’s almost there. Just hold on.”

Hold on. Fucking hold on. Easy for him to say. Valerie coughed, tasting copper. “Song,” she croaked, her vision tunneling at the edges, darkness creeping in. “You’re not… alone. You don’t have to fight this by yourself. We can help you. I can help you.”

Something flickered across So Mi’s face - a crack in the armor, fleeting but real. But then it was gone, replaced by something colder, more resolute. “Don’t you get it?” she murmured. “I’ve been alone this whole time.”

The glow in her eyes intensified as she raised her hand, red lightning licking hungrily at her fingertips. “And you… you’re just another chain I have to break.”

The sharp clang of boots echoed from the entrance. More Barghest reinforcements flooded in, their rifles raised, their orders lost in the charged air. But So Mi barely spared them a glance. With a flick of her wrist, she sent them flying like ragdolls, their screams cut short as their bodies slammed into steel and concrete.

Valerie’s breath hitched, pain flaring white-hot as she clutched her side. The knife shifted against torn muscle, her strength waning. She watched, helpless, as So Mi turned back to her, a slow, dark smile curving her lips. This wasn’t So Mi. This wasn’t the woman she had fought so hard to save. This was something else entirely.

“Song… please…” Valerie whispered, her voice barely audible over the chaos. “Don’t let them take everything from you.”

For a moment - just a moment - So Mi hesitated. Her eyes flickered, something human still fighting in the depths of the red haze. But then she shook her head. The glow flared.

“They already have,” she said, softly. Almost regretfully.

The last thing Valerie saw was So Mi’s hand rising again. Then, a flash of red. A scream. A sob.

And then - nothing.

***

Valerie crouched low, the chill of the concrete wall at her back seeping through the fabric of her jacket. The sniper rifle was a familiar weight in her hands, solid, steady - unlike the storm brewing in her gut. Night City stretched before her in its usual haze, neon bleeding through the smog like dying embers, casting eerie reflections on the scope as she adjusted her position. Across the expanse of cracked asphalt and shattered glass, she could just make out Reed’s form, hunkered down behind a concrete barricade.

The convoy was inbound. And with it, Songbird - alive, unconscious, or something much worse. This was it. This was their one shot. A few minutes to extract her before MaxTac buried her in some black site or, worse, before she woke up and turned the streets into a slaughterhouse. Valerie clenched her jaw. She wouldn’t let it happen. Wouldn’t let them erase her like some corporate fuckup they didn’t want the world to see.

The comms crackled in her ear, slicing through the thick silence. Reed’s voice, calm as ever. “You know how this ends, V.”

Her fingers tightened around the rifle. “I know what I saw, Reed. She’s still in there.” The words came out a growl, half spit, half prayer. She willed them to be true.

“Rabid AI,” he countered, tone even, steady. It was infuriating. “You’re letting your feelings cloud your judgment again. So Mi’s gone. What’s left is just a ghost running on bad code.”

Valerie sucked in a sharp breath, her pulse hammering in her ears. Through the lens, she spotted him - just a silhouette in the dim glow of a broken streetlamp, rifle slung across his back, posture rigid but unreadable.

“Fuck you, Reed,” she hissed. “You’ve changed, choom. Back in the day, you told us no one gets left behind.”

Sol was quiet for a beat. When he spoke, his voice carried something dangerously close to sincerity. “I’m not leaving her behind,” he said, and for a second, it almost sounded like the old Reed. Almost.

“Right.” The word dripped with bitterness. “Not leaving her behind because you need that neural matrix, huh? Two birds, one stone? Gonna put a bullet in her and rip it out yourself?”

His sigh filtered through the static, heavier than before. “Not gonna kill her, V. I promise. But she belongs in federal custody. They can help her.” A pause. “Maybe.”

Maybe. The word tasted like rot in her mouth. She exhaled sharply, adjusting her grip, resisting the urge to look at him through the scope again. She couldn’t understand what had gotten into him, why his tune had changed so suddenly. She didn’t want to see the man who had once fought beside her, now spouting corpo-fed justifications like they weren’t both standing in the gutter.

Then the line crackled again - different voice this time. Cold. Unfamiliar. Clinical. “We’ve got eyes on the target, sir. Confirmed visual.”

Val’s stomach sank. They were close.

“They’re almost here, V,” Reed said, urgency creeping into his voice. He turned, looking straight at her. For a moment, it was just them. A breath held between crosshairs and consequences. “Are you still with me?”

Her lips curled into a bitter smirk. “I’ll bring her back,” she muttered.

Then she cut the feed.

Her fingers flexed around the trigger, steadying her aim as the convoy rumbled into view, armored vehicles slicing through the filth of the city streets. Somewhere inside, So Mi was waiting. Or maybe she wasn’t waiting at all - maybe she was already gone, already lost to whatever hell had rewritten her from the inside out. Valerie didn’t let herself dwell on it.

One shot. One chance to make this right.

***

The hatch groaned in protest as Valerie forced it open, the shriek of metal on metal cutting through the suffocating silence. A beat later, it slammed shut behind her with a hollow clang, sealing her inside. The air here was stale, thick with the sterile, artificial chill of recycled oxygen, humming with the low thrum of unseen machines. A dim red glow pulsed from emergency lights along the corridor, casting jagged, shifting shadows across the grated floor.

She ran. Her boots struck the metal in a relentless rhythm, each impact echoing down the tunnel, swallowed by the darkness ahead. The corridor stretched on, long and unyielding, an artery leading to whatever waited at its end. Her breath came in sharp bursts, but she didn’t slow. Couldn’t. The weight in her gut pressed heavier with every step, a leaden certainty dragging at her limbs, but she forced herself forward. She had been running from Cerberus for at least an hour, ducking through rusted passageways and labyrinthine tunnels, her body screaming at her to stop—but she refused to listen.

She wasn’t done. Not yet. Not when So Mi was still here. Not when some part of her was still clinging to whatever was left. She rescued her from Cerberus. It meant she was there.

Then she reached it - the central chamber. And stopped dead. The flickering light of a console cast uneven shadows across the walls, its glow illuminating the lone figure at the center of the room. So Mi. She knelt like some kind of offering in a grotesque shrine, her body small, almost fragile, bathed in the dying light.

Valerie’s pulse slammed against her ribs. Her eyes flicked over the scene, absorbing every horrifying detail. Wires and tubes coiled around So Mi’s body like an iron grip, threading through her wrists, her spine, disappearing into the pale column of her neck. Her arms hung limp at her sides, her hands twitching slightly, fingers curling and uncurling in unconscious spasms. Sweat matted her dark hair to her forehead, strands sticking to the hollow of her cheek. Her breaths came shallow, uneven, as if each one was a battle she was losing.

“Song…” Valerie’s voice broke around the name, barely more than a whisper.

At the sound, So Mi stirred, her head tilting weakly, the motion sluggish and disjointed. Her eyelids fluttered, struggling against the weight dragging them down, and for a brief, fleeting moment, recognition flickered in her eyes. But it was distant, wavering, like a candle struggling against the wind. Her lips moved, shaping words that never came, her breath too shallow to give them voice.

Valerie was at her side in an instant, dropping to her knees, hands hovering over So Mi’s trembling shoulders but afraid to touch. Afraid she might break. The woman she had known - the warrior, the unshakable force - was now barely held together by wires and the last remnants of her will. A ghost of herself wrapped in steel and circuitry.

The need to free her surged like wildfire, but logic held her back. One wrong move, one severed connection, and she might do more harm than good. Instead, she forced herself to tear her gaze away, scanning the console beside them. Her fingers found a thick cable, and without hesitation, she yanked it free.

A hollow beep filled the chamber. So Mi sagged instantly, her body collapsing forward like a marionette with its strings cut. Valerie caught her, wrapping her arms around the frail form before she could hit the ground. Song was cold - too cold. The weight in Valerie’s chest tightened like a vice as she brushed trembling fingers over her friend’s damp cheek, her thumb skimming across skin that had lost too much color.

“What did they do to you?” she murmured, the words barely holding back the anguish choking her throat.

So Mi’s eyes fluttered open, the effort costing her, her breath shallow and uneven. “It’s good you’re… here,” she rasped, voice a mere thread of sound. Every word came slowly, dragged from her lips like it hurt to speak at all. “Second chances… funny thing. Never really got one, did I?”

Valerie shook her head, swallowing hard against the tightness in her throat. “Don’t,” she pleaded, her voice trembling. “Don’t waste your strength on this. I’m here. I’ve got you. Reed’s on the way. You’ll make it through.”

So Mi’s lips twitched into something that barely passed for a smile - weak, bitter, resigned. “No… they’ll never let me go.”

Fury surged inside Valerie, raw and suffocating, but she forced herself to push it down. Now wasn’t the time. She unclenched her fists, fingers stiff as she focused on the woman before her. “I’m getting you out of here,” she swore, the promise thick with desperation, even as tears burned in her eyes.

But Songbird only shook her head, the movement barely more than a twitch. “I’m… fading, Val.” Her voice was thinner now, a wisp of sound, slipping through her like the life draining from her body. “Help me out. I tried on my own… don’t have the strength.”

Valerie’s breath caught, her body going rigid as she understood - really understood - what So Mi was asking. Her stomach turned to ice. “What are you saying?” she whispered, but she already knew the answer.

“Please,” So Mi rasped. “End it.”

“No,” Valerie snapped, her head shaking violently, her voice cracking under the weight of it. “No, we have the neural matrix. We’ll use it to cure you. We can fix this. It’s all good. It’ll be.” The words came fast, frantic, desperate, as if saying them would make them true.

But Song only sighed, a barely-there exhale, her eyes distant, unfocused. “It’s too late for me, Val,” she murmured. “Blackwall… it’s taken almost all of me. Dying… it’s my only hope, only way out. Please, Val.”

Valerie’s hand trembled as she cupped So Mi’s cheek, her fingers barely brushing her skin. The warmth was still there, but fading, slipping away with every second. “Don’t ask me to do this,” she whispered, her voice breaking, her grip tightening as if holding her would be enough to keep her here. “I can’t. I won’t.”

“Please,” So Mi begged, the word thin, fragile, like it barely held together. “You’re leaving me… to a fate worse than… worse than death.”

The sound of footsteps echoed down the hall, getting closer. Valerie wrenched her hand away, shaking her head, the choice already made. “I can’t,” she said, voice raw, final. “I’m sorry. I’m not killing you.”

So Mi’s body shuddered, a broken sob tearing free, her face contorting in something beyond pain, beyond despair. Her lips parted, the final words a whisper of breath, barely audible.

“You already have.”

***

Reed drove in silence, his expression unreadable, hands steady on the wheel. Outside, Night City shrank in the rearview, swallowed by the expanse of the Badlands. They were close now.

Valerie’s fingers found the cool weight of the NUSA coin in her jacket pocket, the metal biting against her skin like a reminder, a brand. It had never felt heavier. Slowly, deliberately, she tucked it into the inner fold of her jacket. One last loose end.

The barricade emerged - soldiers moving around, weapons at the ready, their voices sharp against the desert air. The car rolled to a stop. Reed’s fingers flexed on the wheel, his glance brief but weighted. Valerie didn’t return it.

She didn’t wait for the orders barked their way. Instead, she stepped out, boots crunching against gravel, the cold wind cutting through the lingering heat of the city they’d left behind. She rounded the car and pulled open the back door. The moment she did, So Mi’s body slumped against her, unnervingly light. Barely conscious. Barely breathing. Still alive.

“Fuck,” Valerie muttered under her breath, adjusting her grip as she lifted her. Song’s head lolled against her shoulder, her breath ghosting weakly against Valerie’s neck.

Medics rushed in, a stretcher appearing between them. Valerie hesitated, just for a fraction of a second, before lowering So Mi onto it. Her fingers lingered at the torn hem of her shirt, feeling the faintest tremor of warmth beneath it. Then, they were pried away. The medics moved fast, securing her in place, strapping her down.

The wind picked up, the sharp, rhythmic thrum of rotor blades slicing through the air. A black helicopter descended ahead. Valerie’s stomach twisted. The side door slid open, and then she stepped out - President Myers, pristine as ever. Her white suit remained untouched by the desert wind, dark glasses concealing whatever calculation lay beneath. She moved with quiet purpose, boots barely dusted by the sand.

She stopped at So Mi’s side. She reached out, a gloved hand resting on the unconscious girl’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, So Mi. We’ll help. This’ll be over soon. We got you. You’re coming home.”

The words were smooth, practiced. Hollow. And in that moment, Valerie understood. She understood everything.

It had never been about the neural matrix. Never about the technology, Hansen, taking over Dogtown or rogue operation. It had always been about her. About So Mi. They didn’t want to kill her. They wanted to use her. To shape her, mold her into something else. Something inhuman. Their own AI. That was the fate worse than death she had feared.

And Valerie had just handed her over.

The medics wheeled the stretcher toward the waiting medical chopper, So Mi disappearing from reach, slipping further and further away. Valerie stood frozen, the wind whipping against her, fingers curled into fists at her sides. It didn’t matter that she hadn’t known. That she hadn’t understood the full scope of it until now. It didn’t make her any less complicit.

Myers turned then, stepping toward her - closer than Valerie would have liked. Close enough that she could see the precise calculation in her expression, the cool detachment of someone who had already moved past this moment, past her.

"Congratulations on a successful mission, agent."

Valerie scoffed, the sound sharp and bitter, cutting through the roar of the nearby choppers. A muscle in Myers' jaw twitched - almost a smirk, almost nothing at all. She tilted her head, as if considering some distant, fleeting thought before settling on a detached smile.

"The price wasn't yours to pay."

Something burned in Valerie’s throat, thick and heavy. Her chest ached, an unbearable pressure mounting behind her ribs. She fought to keep her breath even, to keep her face unreadable. She would not let Myers see. Would not let her win.

But then, she already had. Myers got exactly what she wanted.

"Fuck you," Val said, her voice raw.

The President merely smiled. "You're no longer FIA. Got what you wanted. You're free. Unless..."

Valerie didn’t let her finish. She spat at Myers’ feet, then turned on her heel, walking away before the fury swallowed her whole. Behind her, Myers barely reacted - just the slightest incline of her head, as if it was nothing more than an expected inevitability. And then, just like that, she was gone, stepping onto the waiting helicopter without another word. The door slid shut behind her, sealing away whatever final verdict she had passed.

The engine roared to life.

Across the way, another chopper stood ready. Medics were strapping So Mi onto the stretcher, locking her down like cargo - restrained, secured, processed. Reed stood beside it, his face unreadable as ever, watching with that same detached neutrality that had made him so easy to hate.

Valerie stepped closer, the wind whipping around her, the scent of burning fuel thick in the air. "Did you know?" she asked.

Reed didn’t flinch. "Not at the start," he said. "Not until we got out of Dogtown."

A fresh wave of anger rose in Valerie's chest, but she swallowed it down, forcing herself to focus on the body in front of her. So Mi's hand was cold when she took it, her fingers slack, unmoving.

"She asked me once," Valerie murmured, barely loud enough to be heard over the wind, "She asked if I’d be there when she fucked up." Her thumb brushed over Song’s knuckles. "I said I wouldn’t miss it for the world." A tremor ran through her breath. "She didn’t believe me. Just smiled. Shook her head. Wasn’t buyin’ it. I could tell."

Her throat tightened. Her grip on So Mi’s hand loosening, slipping.

"Don’t you become my enemy, Val, she said,” Valerie swallowed hard, blinking against the sting in her eyes. "She was right not to believe me."

The rotors spun faster, the wind howling, kicking dust into the air. Valerie stood frozen. She didn’t move. Couldn’t move.

Always a pawn in their game. And this time, she had been the one to push the queen into checkmate.

Judy listened intently through the whole story, her brow furrowed in deep concentration as she tried to make sense of the tangled mess Valerie had just unraveled before her. Every revelation felt like a piece of a puzzle she hadn’t even known existed, a picture far larger and darker than she’d ever imagined. Her mind raced, trying to weave together the intricate web that had ensnared Valerie, but she held back from demanding more details, resisting the urge to ask the hundred questions clawing at the back of her throat. Instead, she simply nodded every so often, small, measured gestures meant to show she was listening, that she understood - at least as much as she could.

Her silence wasn’t from shock or indifference. No, it came from something deeper - a quiet, unspoken agreement to let Valerie tell her story at her own pace, to let her peel back the layers without being forced.

“And I didn’t understand it then, not fully,” Valerie said, her voice thick with exhaustion. She wiped at her eyes, smearing the evidence of tears she hadn’t wanted to shed. “But she was right. I got my freedom… but the price was hers to pay. They didn’t help her. Instead, they’re using her as a weapon. I should’ve—” She exhaled sharply, shaking her head. “I killed so many on my way to reach her, but… not her. I couldn’t. It would’ve been the easy way out, her only way out. But I was a coward. And in the end…” Valerie’s voice faltered. “I lost both of you.”

Judy stared at her, unable to form words. It felt unreal, like something ripped straight from a cliché spy thriller - some James Bond-level, high-stakes political drama. Yet, the weight behind Valerie’s words, the raw emotion cracking through her voice, told her that none of this was fiction. This was Valerie’s reality. And in that moment, Judy realized just how little she actually knew about the woman sitting in front of her.

She had always sensed there was more to Valerie than what she let on, had caught glimpses of something jagged beneath the surface, but she had never imagined anything like this. She knew fragments of her past, bits and pieces of her troubled history, but not this. Dogtown. The FIA. A mysterious cure. Rogue AIs. Betrayals stacked on top of betrayals. The casual mention of killing, spoken like it was just another part of life.

Judy swallowed hard. “You’re a spy,” she said, her voice laced with something between disbelief and reluctant awe. It wasn’t even a question, but Valerie nodded anyway.

Judy let out a short, breathless laugh, more out of incredulity than amusement. “You’re a fuckin’ spy.” She repeated the words, as if saying them again would somehow make them more believable. In that moment, everything clicked for her. The fragmented details from their previous conversations suddenly aligned, and all the pieces fell into place. The complexities of Valerie’s life, which had once seemed like a tangled web of mystery, now made a disturbing kind of sense.

Her instincts screamed at her to run. To get up, leave, and never look back. She should have wanted nothing to do with any of this, should have been terrified that she was even sitting here, tangled up in something that reeked of danger and death. But she didn’t move. She couldn’t. She was in too deep.

"What the fuck are you doin’ here then?" The question came out sharper than she intended, but her mind was spiraling, struggling to reconcile the Valerie she knew with the Valerie who had just confessed to things Judy could barely wrap her head around. “Seems like your whole life revolves around somethin’ completely different than soccer.”

“I know I don’t belong here,” Valerie admitted, a bitter edge to her voice. “Playing soccer was never part of the plan when I was pushed to infiltrate Tyger Claws’ ranks. But then Stout pulled some strings and got me onto the starting lineup. And… I got hooked. On the feeling of having a normal life. Of being good at something that didn’t involve hurting people. That didn’t leave blood on my hands.” Valerie paused, her gaze flickering toward Judy, softening slightly. “And I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

Judy’s breath caught.

“FIA agreed to let me go,” Valerie continued, running a hand through her hair, her frustration evident. “I agreed to this deal because of you. Meeting you, being around you, getting to experience something… real. It changed me.” Her voice turned quiet, almost wistful. “This assignment let me step into your world, and for the first time, I felt like I could be someone else. I saw it as a chance to start over, to leave all of that behind. To at least try and build something real… but things don’t always work out the way you want them to, right?”

Judy could only stare. She had no words. None that would be enough for what she was feeling. All this time, Judy had thought she had Valerie figured out. That she understood the woman who had wormed her way into her life. But she hadn’t known a damn thing.

And then - another thought hit her like a freight train.

She swallowed past the lump in her throat. "If you were their little soldier…" Judy’s voice trembled as she pieced it together, horror dawning in her chest. "It means they’ve chromed you up."

The words hung between them, heavier than anything that had come before.

Valerie released Judy’s hand and stood up, taking a few measured steps back. Her movements were careful, as if each step carried the weight of a thousand regrets. The sorrow in her gray eyes was a living thing, coiling around Judy’s ribs, making it hard to breathe. Then, with a swift, almost mechanical precision, Valerie flexed her arms. A sharp, metallic sound cut through the silence as sleek mantis blades slid out from beneath her skin, their edges catching the dim light in an eerie shimmer. They were impossibly sharp, inhuman, a stark contrast to the woman who had once held Judy with such gentleness.

Judy’s breath hitched, a visceral reaction she couldn’t suppress. She scrambled to her feet, her pulse hammering in her throat as her mind struggled to process what she was seeing. The room felt smaller now, the walls closing in, the revelation pressing down on her like a vice. This wasn’t just cyberware - it was a reminder of what had been done to Valerie, what had been carved into her body without care for the soul beneath it. Judy’s mind raced, struggling to reconcile the woman she loved with the lethal instrument now standing before her. She was speechless, unable to form a single word, her heart breaking anew with each passing second.

Valerie stood still, her face unreadable, though the pain in her voice was unmistakable. “This is what they turned me into, Jude. A monster. This is what I’ve been hiding. Mantis blades, titanium bones, optical camo… a busted chip in my head. I’m a fucking mess.”

The words gutted Judy. Her gaze darted back to the blades - sleek, deadly things extending from Valerie’s arms like cruel extensions of herself. And then, with a quiet click, they retracted. Valerie rolled her shoulders, her movements so fluid it was almost like they’d never been there at all. Almost. But now, Judy could see it - how the dark ink of Val’s tattoos concealed the near-invisible seams of augmented skin. A layer of deception, designed to make her look whole when she’d been shattered and rebuilt into something else entirely.

Judy’s fingers curled into fists at her sides, not from fear, but from the raw ache twisting inside her chest.

Then Valerie looked at her again, those storm-gray eyes searching for something - understanding, forgiveness, maybe even permission to hate herself just a little less. “This is why I couldn’t let you in fully. I didn’t want you to see this part of me. I didn’t want you to know what I’m capable of.” Her voice was steadier now, but the emotion behind it hadn’t faded. “I thought you deserved better. I still do.”

Judy’s throat tightened, the war of emotions inside her threatening to break free. She took a step forward, then another, closing the space between them. Her hand lifted, fingers brushing against Valerie’s forearm - against the place where metal hid beneath skin. The blue-haired woman flinched at first, but didn’t pull away. It was a small thing, that touch, but it felt like a bridge spanning a chasm neither of them had known how to cross.

Judy swallowed hard. Her mind was a whirlwind of thoughts, doubts clashing against something far deeper. The woman she loved was still standing in front of her, but now with a truth bared that made it impossible to look away. And maybe that was the point. Maybe Valerie needed her to see - not just the cyberware, but the fractures beneath it, the pieces of herself she thought were too jagged to hold onto.

Judy held her gaze. “Val, I…” She faltered, her voice barely more than a whisper. “I don’t know what to say.” And it was the truth. There were no easy words for something like this. “This is a lot to take in.”

Valerie exhaled, a sound caught somewhere between exhaustion and relief. “I know,” she murmured. “Take all the time you need.”

Judy could hear the unspoken part of it. I won’t blame you if you walk away.

But that wasn’t even a question in her mind anymore.

She looked at Valerie - the woman who had fought so hard to keep her at a distance, not because she didn’t care, but because she cared too much. The woman who thought she was too broken to be loved, too dangerous to be held, too far gone to ever deserve something good. She saw raw vulnerability laid bare, a silent plea for understanding, for something real. It struck Judy like a blade through the ribs - the unspoken hope for a life beyond the weight of past sins, a chance to shed the shadows of what she’d never chosen for herself. Val’s voice, fractured but resolute, echoed in Judy’s mind - a whisper of longing for something better, something she feared might never come. A life free of the ghosts that hunted her.

And Judy thought about her own scars, the ones that couldn’t be fixed, the ones that lived in the quiet corners of her heart. She thought about all the times she’d convinced herself she wasn’t worth the fight, that people left because that was just how the world worked. And yet here they were - two people with ghosts clinging to their backs, standing on the edge of something terrifying and real.

Some people were worth the risk. Worth the ache and the struggle. Worth facing down every shadow that threatened to swallow them whole.

And Valerie?

She might just be one of those rare souls.

Judy let out a slow, steadying breath, grounding herself before she spoke. “We’ll figure this out, Val.” Her fingers tightened around Valerie’s hand, firm and certain. “I’m not going anywhere.”

The silence stretched between them, thick and heavy with unspoken emotions. Time seemed to bend, holding them both in a fragile moment suspended between the past and the future. And then, slowly, Valerie’s lips parted, revealing a smile - a small, hesitant curve that trembled with the weight of her vulnerability but was real, unmistakably real. Judy’s heart fluttered, a quiet ache blooming in her chest as she squeezed Valerie’s hand once more. It was a promise, silent yet powerful, and the hope in Valerie’s eyes sent a warmth rushing through Judy.

No, she wasn’t going anywhere.

Valerie’s shoulders relaxed slightly, a visible sign of the immense relief that washed over her. The weight of her secrets, no longer hers alone to bear, lightened ever so slightly. Judy stepped forward closing the distance between them, her movements urgent with tenderness. She enveloped the blue-haired woman in an embrace that was both firm and gentle, pulling her close until the steady beat of Val’s heart synced with her own.

Valerie, responding instinctively, pressed delicate kisses along the curve of Judy’s neck and shoulder, each one a soft balm to the raw edges of her soul. The warmth of her breath danced against Judy’s skin, grounding them both in the intimacy they had almost forgotten. In that moment, the storm of revelations faded, and Judy felt a calmness settle over her.

“Can you… can you promise me something?” Judy’s voice was barely above a whisper, fragile and earnest, as she shifted Valerie’s head with careful hands, locking their gazes. The intensity of her question hung in the air, heavy with expectation. “From now on, please promise me you won’t hide anything from me. Promise me you’ll answer all my questions, no matter how dark or complicated it is. No more secrets, Val. Can you promise me that?”

Valerie’s eyes softened, the flicker of resolve in them deepening as she met Judy’s gaze. The tremor in her voice was palpable when she spoke, a quiet vow to the woman in her arms. “I promise, Jude,” she murmured, her words carrying the weight of a lifetime’s worth of unspoken truths. “No more lies.”

Judy nodded, a small but heartfelt smile curving her lips. In that simple promise, something in her heart unraveled, the last of her doubts slipping away. All the cards were on the table now, and Judy had already made her decision. She chose to silence the faint voice of caution that whispered warnings in the back of her mind, telling her of the dangers of letting this person back into her life. Despite all the heartbreak and struggle, she realized that she still trusted Valerie. The bond between them, though frayed and tested, was far from broken.

And then, as though the universe held its breath, everything stilled. The world outside seemed to pause - no sounds of traffic, no rustling of trees, only the soft cadence of their breathing. It was just the two of them, suspended in a moment that felt both infinite and fleeting. Judy leaned in and pressed her lips to Valerie’s.

Valerie’s hands cradled Judy’s face with gentle reverence, drawing her in closer until their bodies seemed to melt together. The kiss that followed was a beautiful contradiction - fierce yet tender, sweet yet laden with desperation, new yet eerily familiar. Every detail of it etched itself into Judy’s memory - the shape of Valerie’s lips, her intoxicating taste, the raw, needy sound that escaped Valerie when Judy nipped at her lower lip. The kiss deepened, more urgent now, yet still tender, as if they both understood the gravity of the moment, the meaning behind each touch, each press of their mouths.

When their lips finally parted, the sound of their separation was soft, almost sacred. Their mouths still felt the imprint of the kiss, swollen and glistening in the muted light. They rested their foreheads together, breath mingling in the space between them, a shared rhythm that grounded them both. Judy’s fingers, trembling slightly, reached up to brush a loose strand of Valerie’s hair from her face, tracing the curve of her neck with a tenderness that belied the storm of emotions swirling inside her.

“Do you want to lie down?” Valerie’s voice, low and filled with concern, broke the quiet, noting the fatigue in Judy’s eyes.

Judy nodded, her voice wavering as she admitted, “Yeah, I feel like I’m about to faint. Would you… can you stay with me?”

Valerie’s smile was warm and reassuring, her eyes soft with a promise. “I wouldn’t have it any other way,” she whispered.

The two of them moved together seamlessly, as if their bodies had memorized the rhythm of one another. Judy slipped out of her jeans, Valerie’s hands gentle as they helped, and the denim fell to the floor with a quiet rustle. Judy slid beneath the covers, now clad only in her shirt and underwear, feeling the cool sheets against her skin. Valerie followed, her movements graceful and cautious, as though afraid to disrupt the fragile peace that had finally settled between them.

Once they were both settled, Judy enveloped Valerie in her arms, her fingers pressing lightly into the small of her back. Her head rested on Valerie’s shoulder, the comfort of the embrace filling the empty spaces inside her. The intimacy was both exhilarating and soothing, a balm for the wounds that had scarred her heart over the past weeks. She inhaled Valerie’s scent, a tantalizing blend of sandalwood and something uniquely hers, and felt the tension slowly ebb away from her body.

For the first time in what felt like an eternity, a profound sense of calm washed over Judy. Despite the myriad questions still swirling in her mind, the storm of emotions that had raged within her for so long began to subside, replaced by a deep, soothing peace. Valerie’s presence, her warmth, and her steady heartbeat became a steadfast anchor in the turbulent sea of Judy’s thoughts.

Valerie’s hand moved in slow, comforting patterns, her fingers threading through Judy’s vibrant green and pink hair with a touch that was both tender and soothing. She pressed a soft kiss to the top of Judy’s head, her breath warm against her scalp.

"Rest, Jude," she whispered, her voice a gentle caress. "I’ve got you."

Judy nodded, a small, contented smile curving her lips as she nestled closer. In that moment, she felt the walls they had built around themselves finally crumble. There was no more distance between them, no more unspoken things. She felt the depth of Valerie’s truth in the warmth of her touch, in the steadiness of her breath. And in that moment, Judy believed - for the first time in a long while - that everything could be okay.

Chapter Text

Chapter IX | Tautou
I'm sinkin' like a stone in the sea. I'm burning like a bridge for your body.

Rita slipped into the dimly lit room, careful to push the door closed behind her without so much as a whisper of sound in case Judy was sleeping. The morning light filtered through the sheer curtains, casting soft golden streaks across the walls, illuminating dust motes that drifted lazily in the air. The space smelled faintly of sleep and warmth, the kind of comfort that came from bodies tangled together.

She hadn’t seen Judy at breakfast. Hadn’t heard her voice, hadn’t caught that familiar, sharp-edged humor that masked too much exhaustion. And concern - no, something deeper, something protective - had led her here, to check in, to make sure that whatever wounds the day before had left hadn’t bled into the morning.

Her gaze adjusted to the dimness, sweeping across the small room before landing on the bed. Two figures, curled into each other like they had been made to fit that way. Judy’s head rested against Valerie’s shoulder, her colorful hair fanned out across bare skin, an arm thrown possessively across the blue-haired woman’s chest. In sleep, she was unguarded, her features softened in a way Rita rarely saw. Valerie held her close, an arm wrapped securely around her waist, their bodies pressed together, as if even unconscious, neither of them could bear the distance. Their breaths moved in quiet tandem, slow and steady, two heartbeats lulled into the same rhythm.

Rita felt something in her chest loosen.

Judy had never been good at letting people in. Not since Night City. Always bristling, always wary, like a stray cat that had learned too well what happened when hands got too close. And yet, here she was - pressed into someone’s arms, clinging even in sleep. A silent admission of trust. A kind of safety she had spent so much of her life pretending she didn’t need.

Rita stepped closer, and as she did, she met Valerie’s eyes. The woman had woken at the sound of her entrance, though she hadn’t moved, her body still a protective cocoon around Judy’s smaller frame. Her gaze, a stormy blend of exhaustion and softness, held steady on the purple-haired defender, but she made no move to break the quiet moment. Instead, she simply lifted a finger to her lips - a request for silence.

Rita sighed. The tension she had carried with her into the room melted, if only slightly, into something quieter, something accepting. She made her way to the second bed, sinking onto the edge, the mattress dipping beneath her weight.

“I’m guessin’ you talked this whole mess through,” she murmured, her voice barely more than a breath in the stillness.

Valerie gave a slow nod, her lips curving in a small, tired smile.

For a moment, Rita simply watched them - watched the way Valerie held Judy, the way Judy unconsciously leaned into that warmth. But then, her expression hardened just slightly, and she leaned forward, her elbows resting on her knees.

“If you ever make her cry again,” she said, voice quiet but sharp as cut glass, “I swear, I’ll end you.”

Valerie didn’t flinch. She just watched the purple-haired woman, waiting.

“She puts on a tough front, but she’s not as strong as she pretends to be,” Rita continued, her gaze never leaving the woman across from her. “She dives in headfirst, no hesitation, if she believes someone’s worth it. And for whatever reason, she’s decided you are. So, I’m givin’ you another chance too, ‘cause in her troubled little mind, you deserve it.” Rita tilted her head slightly. “Which means I’m trustin’ you with her. But I’ll be watchin’.”

She leaned back slightly, fingers tapping idly against her thigh. “Don’t fuck this up, Bakker. If you do, I won’t wanna be in your shoes. I’ve got a special skull-crushin’ bat just for such occasions. Understood?”

Valerie’s eyes didn’t waver. She only nodded, slow and deliberate, a quiet promise written in the depths of her gaze.

Satisfied - for now - Rita pushed herself to her feet, heading for the door with the same quiet steps she had entered with. But before she stepped out, she glanced back one last time, catching the way Valerie’s lips brushed against Judy’s temple, the soft press of a kiss meant for no one but the woman in her arms. Judy murmured something unintelligible, shifting slightly, now sprawled even more completely atop Valerie, who only smiled and held her closer.

Rita huffed a quiet laugh, shaking her head. “Make sure she eats,” she said, her voice softer now, her sharp edges dulled by something fond. “She didn’t eat anything yesterday.”

Then, without another word, she slipped out the door, leaving them to whatever fragile, precious peace they had found in each other’s arms.

Judy drifted awake slowly, her senses stirring before her mind could fully catch up. It took her a few seconds to fully comprehend her surroundings, to realize that she was sprawled across Valerie’s chest. There was warmth - steady, unwavering - beneath her, wrapping around her like a blanket. The rise and fall of Val’s chest beneath her cheek was hypnotic, a soothing rhythm that lulled her back toward sleep. The world outside their cocoon of tangled limbs and rumpled sheets barely existed. There was only this - only the faint golden glow of morning light filtering through the curtains, the ghost of breath against her hair, the scent of skin and sweat and something unmistakably Valerie.

For a moment, she let herself sink into it, drifting in that liminal space between dreams and reality. But it wasn’t a dream, this wasn’t some phantom memory from the past. This wasn’t another echo of the nights she’d spent chasing the ghost of Valerie’s touch, longing for something that had slipped through her fingers. No, this was real. The heat of Valerie’s body. The faint twitch of her fingers against Judy’s waist, the absentminded way they traced half-formed patterns on her skin. The slow, steady breath against the crown of her head, ruffling strands of her hair. The golden Spanish sun creeping across the sheets.

Real. All of it was achingly real.

Judy had to fight the urge to pinch herself. It felt impossible - like something she shouldn’t be allowed to have. And yet, here she was. Here they were.

She couldn’t pretend that nothing had changed, that Valerie was still just an exceptional soccer player, just the woman who had challenged her, taunted her, sent her pulse into a tailspin every time their gazes locked. Not anymore. That illusion shattered under the weight of everything Judy knew now - everything she had been forced to confront.

Valerie wasn’t just a soccer player. She was something far more dangerous. Judy had seen the truth, had traced her fingers over the warm skin that hid the lethal steel, had watched those hands - capable of such impossible gentleness - reveal a history far darker than she had ever imagined. She should have been afraid. The knowledge should have made her pull away, should have made her view Valerie through a different lens. And yet—

She wasn’t afraid. Not even a little.

Maybe she should have been. Maybe she should have looked at the blades and felt a different kind of shiver. Maybe she should have questioned what it meant to be here, tangled up in the arms of someone who had lived in the shadows long before she ever stepped onto a field. But the only thing she felt was certainty. A deep, bone-aching certainty that no amount of bloodshed or secrets could erase.

Because Valerie was still the same woman who had won her that ridiculous, oversized koala. The same woman who had sat beside her on the pier, fingers threading through her hair, grounding her when she thought she might come undone. The same woman who, even now, was impossibly tender, holding her close like she was something fragile and precious - something worth keeping safe.

Judy’s fingers curled slightly against Valerie’s side, pressing into the steady beat of her heart. She understood now – Valerie had been trying to protect her. Pushing her away not out of indifference, but out of some twisted sense of protection. She thought of herself as a monster. And maybe, to the rest of the world, she was. But not to Judy. Because Judy had seen something else in her - something raw, something vulnerable, something human beneath all the sharp edges. And that changed everything. Valerie had made herself known in a way she hadn’t before, had let Judy glimpse the depth of what she felt, the way she cared - fiercely, recklessly, in a way that meant there was no turning back now.

She exhaled softly, pressing her forehead against Val’s collarbone, letting their heartbeats fall into rhythm. There was still so much left uncertain. So much they had to figure out. The road ahead was littered with dangers she didn’t fully understand, and the weight of the truth loomed just beyond the edges of this stolen moment. But she knew, without a doubt, that she wasn’t going anywhere. Whatever storm was coming, whatever darkness lurked beyond the safety of these sheets - she was in this. Fully.

When she finally felt ready, her eyes fluttered open. Valerie lay beneath her, propped lazily against the pillows, one hand scrolling through her phone. Her other arm remained draped around Judy’s waist, her fingers continuing their slow, absentminded circles against her skin. Her blue hair was a tousled mess against the pillow, framing the smirk that curved at her lips. At the movement, she glanced down, and the shift in her expression was immediate - focus melting into something softer. Amusement. Affection. 

“Morning, drool monster,” she teased, voice thick with sleep and warmth.

Judy blinked, disoriented, before following Valerie’s gaze - to the damp spot on her chest where Judy’s face had been resting.

“Oh, fuck,” she muttered, a mortified groan tore from her throat, and she immediately buried her face against Valerie’s shoulder. “That’s so gross. I’m so sorry.”

Valerie chuckled, a low, comforting sound that rumbled through her chest. “Don’t worry about it.” A pause, then, teasingly, “Kinda cute, actually.”

Judy peeked up, leveling her with a glare that was more pout than anything else. The blue-haired woman only grinned in response, clearly enjoying her embarrassment. But despite herself, Judy didn’t pull away. Instead, she let herself sink back down, resting against Valerie like she belonged there. Her fingers moved on instinct, tracing the long, jagged scar stretching across Valerie’s ribcage. Her touch was light, reverent, following the ridges of old pain with slow contemplation.

A quiet understanding passed between them, unspoken but undeniable. There was no running from this. And, truth be told, Judy didn’t want to. They stayed like that for a while - wrapped in silence, the kind of silence that didn’t beg to be filled.

But eventually, the weight of the early morning pressed in, and with it, the reality of everything Valerie had told her. Words still lingered in the air, waiting to be unpacked, truths barely touched upon.

Judy exhaled slowly, steadying herself before she spoke. “So… about what you said earlier,” she began, her voice quieter now, careful. “I still have a lot of questions.”

Something flickered behind Valerie’s eyes - a shadow, there and gone in an instant. A wariness that told Judy she was bracing herself, waiting for the inevitable. Waiting for Judy to say she had changed her mind, that she couldn’t handle what lay beneath the surface. That she was going to run.

Judy swallowed against the tightness in her throat. “I want to know everything. But at the same time, I’m scared of what else is there.” Her fingers moved absentmindedly, tracing the raised edge of a scar that marred Valerie’s ribcage, following the uneven path like she could find answers in the jagged line. “I was so mad at you for leaving without a word. I was sure you just… ghosted me. That I meant nothing. But now I know… I know you went through hell. Lost your friend. Got used by FIA. And I—” Her breath hitched, frustration curling at the edges of her voice. “I get it. It’s still a lot, Val. I’m still processing it all. But I’m here. I’m not going anywhere. I trust you. And I want to know everything.”

Valerie studied her for a long moment, searching. Then, something in her expression softened, the tension in her shoulders easing just slightly. “You can ask me anything,” she murmured. “I told you—no more lies. And I meant it.”

Judy hesitated, biting her lip as she debated where to start, her mind a tangled mess of questions. There were too many, all of them demanding space, some so heavy they threatened to crush whatever fragile ground they stood on. But she had to start somewhere. Somewhere small. Somewhere that wouldn’t break them apart before they’d even begun piecing things together.

Her fingers skimmed the rough skin of Valerie’s scar one last time before she whispered, “Where did you get this?” She glanced up, voice almost tentative. “Thought we could start with something easy.”

Val’s eyes brightened, the glint of memory flickering behind them. When she began to speak, her tone was almost casual, as if she was recounting an old war story over a drink rather than revealing the ghosts etched into her skin.

“It’s from one of my first missions,” she said, her voice steady, betraying none of the chaos that must have lived in that moment. “One of those nights where everything that could go wrong did. So Mi had taken care of all the cameras and drones around the mansion, cleared the way for me to slip inside and plant a bug in some high-profile Argentinian politician’s office. But there were two Rottweilers on the second floor—big, mean bastards—that she somehow missed. They were dead asleep until they caught my scent.”

Judy felt the breath catch in her throat as she listened, her fingers still tracing the scar, as if the simple touch could rewrite history. She wanted to tell Valerie she didn’t have to do this, that she didn’t have to relive it, to turn her pain into a story for Judy’s sake. But Valerie pressed on, a faint, wry smile tugging at the corner of her lips, as though there was something darkly amusing in the sheer absurdity of survival.

“They woke up and came straight for me,” she continued, the ghost of laughter in her voice, a humor so dry it cracked. “I had about two seconds to decide between trying to fight them off or getting the hell out of there. So, I did the only logical thing—dove out a window.”

Judy flinched, the image flashing through her mind in sharp detail - the shatter of glass, the burn of adrenaline, the heart-stopping weightlessness of freefall.

“A shard caught me on the way down,” Valerie added, tapping the scar absentmindedly. “Got stuck in pretty deep. No choice but to stitch myself up in the back of a jeep bouncing down a dirt road to our safe house. Not exactly the sterile environment you’d want for that sort of thing.” She flashed a lopsided grin, gesturing to the uneven mark. “As you can see, my sewing skills left a lot to be desired. But hey, I hear chicks dig scars.”

Judy let out a quiet huff of laughter, but the ache in her chest remained. Valerie told the story like it had happened to someone else, like it was nothing more than a scene from some action flick. The casual detachment in her voice didn’t dull the weight of it, though. It only made it worse.

Judy had faced her own share of nightmares, but they paled in comparison to what Valerie had endured. She had lost friends to overdoses, to street violence, to deals gone bad. She had seen what desperation turned people into. How Night City twisted them, chewed them up, spat them out, and then demanded more. But Valerie - she had walked through something worse, something beyond what Judy could fully comprehend. She hadn’t just survived the darkness, she had been forged in it. A weapon - lethal and efficient - sharpened by hands that never cared what it cost her. And now, somehow, she was trying to be something else, someone beyond what they had made her into. Valerie was searching for herself, trying to piece together an identity beyond the role of a government-made killer.

Judy swallowed hard. She should have been afraid. By all logic, she should have been looking for an exit, putting distance between herself and the woman who had been trained to kill without hesitation. But she wasn’t. She stayed. Her fingers traced the places where pain had left its mark, where Valerie’s body had been broken and patched back together again.

Why? Why did she trust her? Valerie was the danger, a force to be reckoned with, and Judy understood that better than anyone. Yet, inexplicably, she felt no urge to run. She couldn’t explain the quiet certainty that settled in her bones when she was with her, the unshakable belief that this girl - who could so easily break her heart or her neck - wouldn’t do either. It was a trust that defied logic, a trust that terrified her even as it anchored her in place. There was something magnetic between them, a connection that made Judy’s entire body come alive whenever their eyes met. And it had to be more than just physical attraction.

“That sounds… intense,” Judy murmured at last, her voice gentle as she lifted her gaze. “Yeah, I have to admit, it does add a certain rugged charm.”

Valerie shrugged slightly, careful not to disturb Judy, who still rested against her. Then, a teasing glint sparked in her eyes. “If it earns me a few sympathy points with you, I’d say it was worth it.”

Judy chuckled softly, a quiet, unguarded sound that warmed the space between them. “Tell me more about So Mi,” she requested. “If—if you want, of course.”

“Yeah, I want you to know,” Valerie started, exhaling slowly, her gaze turning distant. “Song… she was a force of nature. Always two steps ahead, always seeing things the rest of us were too blind—or too scared—to recognize. She figured it out long before anyone else. That what they did to us… it wasn’t a gift. It was a curse. And she wanted out. She fought for it, begged me to see things the way she did. But I didn’t listen... She wanted Myers and the FIA to pay for what they did to us. And then… Brazil happened. She put a bullet in me, left me lying in a pool of my own blood. Missed the artery, though. That wasn’t luck—it was intentional. I get that now. She had a plan all along. But that anger, that obsession with making them pay? It cost her everything. She got too close to Blackwall chasing revenge… and now—” Valerie broke off, jaw tightening. “Fuck. I can’t believe how blind I was.”

“It wasn’t your fault, Val,” Judy said softly, but there was steel in her voice. “They manipulated you. Used you.”

“I know, but… I should’ve done what she asked me to. I should have—” she hesitated, the words catching in her throat.

“Val, she was your friend."

The blue-haired woman shook her head, frustration flickering behind her eyes. “Still, I should have—”

Judy didn’t let her finish. “Stop, Val.”

It was a whisper, but it carried enough weight to halt Valerie in her tracks. Their gazes locked, a silent battle waged in the quiet between them. Then, slowly, Valerie exhaled, her breath unsteady as she gave a small nod. Judy knew she couldn’t erase the ghosts that clung to Valerie’s past, couldn’t undo the things that had carved themselves into her like wounds beneath her skin. But she could hold her here, anchor her to the present, keep her from drifting too far into the places she couldn’t follow.

Without thinking, she leaned in, pressing her lips to the jagged skin along Val’s ribcage. A whisper of a kiss, her mouth lingering as if she could rewrite the past with nothing more than tenderness. Her fingers followed in its wake, tracing the faint ridge with careful reverence before wandering upward, searching. Another scar. A smaller, fresher one along the blue-haired woman’s collarbone. Judy’s touch barely ghosted over it, fingertips moving lightly, as if trying to read the story written in the lines of her skin.

Valerie didn’t pull away, didn’t tease, didn’t flinch. She just watched her, the sharp glint in her eyes softening into something quieter, something unguarded.

“How about this scar?” Judy’s voice was hushed, the question slipping from her lips as naturally as a breath.

Valerie didn’t answer right away. Instead, her gaze turned inward, distant now, like she was sifting through old memories, dredging up ghosts she hadn’t summoned in a long time. The quiet stretched, not uncomfortable, but heavy. Weighted with things unsaid.

Judy could feel the rise and fall of Valerie’s chest beneath her cheek, steady, grounding - but there was tension there now, a barely-there stiffness, a hesitation that hadn’t been there a moment ago. She went still, unwilling to push, knowing that some wounds didn’t take well to prodding. Instead, she let Valerie decide.

After a moment, she moved, her fingers sliding over Judy’s where they rested against her scar. A light touch, barely there, but enough. Enough to mean something. Reassurance, maybe. Or a silent request for the same.

Then, finally, Val spoke. “Bullet,” she murmured, the word clipped, factual. But there was something else beneath it. A weight. A shadow. A name carved into her bones. She felt it before Valerie even said it. “I lost a friend that night. His name was Jackie.”

Judy didn’t miss the way Valerie’s voice tightened, the way her breath hitched just slightly over the name, as if speaking it aloud made the loss sharper. There was grief in those few words, quiet but palpable, woven into the careful way she held herself, into the lingering sadness that flickered across her face like a shadow cast by some distant flame. Judy’s fingers stilled beneath Valerie’s hand, offering nothing but presence, quiet understanding. The scar had healed, but the wound it left behind clearly hadn’t - not entirely.

"Was he an agent too?" she asked softly, the words careful, barely above a whisper, as if anything louder might shatter the fragile intimacy of the moment.

Valerie’s response was immediate. "No," she said, and the word carried regret, heavy and unshakable. "He was just this goofy, quirky, big-hearted Valentino who had no idea what he was getting himself into."

Judy hummed, brushing her lips over the scarred skin, a silent gesture of empathy. "That's a bit cryptic," she murmured.

Valerie exhaled, her gaze flicking to the ceiling as if she could find the right words written somewhere up there, as if the memories she was recounting played out above them. "Sorry," she muttered, her voice tinged with a quiet weariness. "Not trying to be. It’s just... fresh. Three months fresh, and I’m still trying to make sense of it."

She paused, gathering herself, and when she spoke again, her voice was steadier, but no less burdened. "We got word that Militech was making a play for some new piece of tech—something they called a relic. Soburo’s son had it, he stole it from his father. Some low-life fixer had a plan and was looking for someone stupid enough to grab it before Militech could sink their claws into it. Jackie—" Her voice caught slightly, just for a second. "—he jumped at the chance. Before I could stop him. So, I played along, backed him up. Pissed off my supervisor, but I didn’t care."

Her jaw tensed, something dark flickering through her expression. "But it all went to hell," she murmured. "And I couldn’t stop it."

Judy swallowed, a deep ache settling in her chest. "I’m sorry," she whispered, knowing the words were small, knowing they wouldn’t change anything - but saying them anyway.

Judy shifted slightly, angling herself so she could meet Valerie’s gaze. The other woman hesitated, as if caught off guard by the weight of Judy’s attention, but after a moment, their eyes locked. And in that brief instant, before Valerie could mask it, Judy saw it - raw emotions. An old wound, not yet healed, buried beneath layers of bravado. But just as quickly as it appeared, it was gone, smoothed over by a weak smile that curved her lips without ever reaching her eyes.

Valerie reached out, her fingers tracing a light touch along Judy’s jaw, a silent connection in the absence of words. "You would’ve loved that guy," she murmured, her voice softer than usual. "A mama’s boy. Reckless. Dumb as a brick sometimes. But the most loyal, lovable bastard I ever knew."

Judy listened, watching the way Valerie’s expression shifted - somewhere between fondness and grief.

"When I got back to Night City, he was the one who took me in," she continued. "Helped me get back on my feet. Though, to be fair, he almost shot me in the face first." She let out a quiet laugh, but there was no real amusement in it, only the echo of something long past, something she couldn’t quite let go of. "We did a lot of questionable shit together. But I was proud to call him my best friend."

Judy’s fingers brushed against Valerie’s side, tracing absent, soothing patterns. “Do you miss him?”

The question made Valerie pause, just for a fraction of a second. Her smile wavered, but she held onto it, as if letting it slip would make the truth too heavy to carry. "Yeah," she admitted, her voice lower now, tinged with a blend of longing and fondness. "I do."

She exhaled softly, her fingers still grazing Judy’s cheek, as if grounding herself in the touch before continuing. "Wish he was here to see us kick Japan’s ass. He would’ve loved it. Soccer was his thing, you know? Had this signed jersey from Rogue hanging in his garage like a fucking trophy. Never missed a game, dragged me to every Claws match whether I wanted to go or not." Valerie shook her head slightly, a half-smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth. "And it wasn’t just a game to him. It was an escape. A way to feel like he was part of something bigger than just surviving. Eventually, it became that for me too."

Judy let the silence linger for a moment, then her hand slid lower, resting at Valerie’s waist, her touch light but deliberate. "Is that how you got into soccer?"

Valerie’s expression shifted, her gaze unfocusing slightly, lost somewhere in the past. “Nah,” she murmured. "Got hooked when I was still a kid. Back at the FIA base in Langley. They had this makeshift field we’d play on whenever we could. Just to burn off steam, pretend we were normal kids for a while."

Judy could feel the way Valerie’s breathing changed as she spoke, the subtle shifts in her body betraying more than her words ever could. There was a distant quality to her voice now, quiet resignation that made Judy’s heart ache.

"We used to show off during scrimmages. Tried to prove we were the fastest, the most skilled. Our handlers were always watching, evaluating us, deciding who was ready. Even on that field. We thought if we played well enough, impressed them enough, we’d get our shot. Our first mission. That was all we wanted... But we were so fuckin’ naive. We didn’t know what that really meant. What it would cost us."

She fell silent for a moment, her thumb idly stroking Judy's jaw. "Some of the kids who got their chance never came back," she finally said. "They weren’t ready. None of us were, not really. We were just kids, playing at being soldiers, trying to live up to what they wanted us to be. And when the reality hit, it hit hard."

Judy felt her chest tighten, the weight of Valerie’s words pressing against her.

"And those who did come back?" Val let out a quiet breath, barely more than an exhale. "We weren’t the same anymore. We couldn’t be. It changes you, makes you see the world differently. Makes you see yourself differently "

She looked at Judy then, really looked at her, as if daring her to see it - to see the truth she didn’t let anyone else glimpse. And Judy did. She saw it all. The girl who had once played on a dusty field in Langley, believing, if only for a fleeting moment, that she could be enough. The girl who had survived when so many others hadn’t. The girl who had lost her innocence far too soon, stripped of choice and autonomy, reshaped into a pawn on someone else’s board.

Judy didn’t speak. Words felt too small for the weight of what she saw, what she felt. Instead, she pressed in closer, resting her forehead against Valerie’s, her hand slipping to the nape of her neck, fingers threading through short strands of hair. She held her there, not to keep her from slipping away but to remind her she wouldn’t. That she was here. That she saw her. Valerie exhaled slowly, her eyes fluttering shut as if she could momentarily surrender to the quiet. Then, she let her own forehead rest fully against Judy’s, her grip loosening slightly - but never letting go.

Judy’s heart clenched at the rawness of it all, the quiet tremor in Valerie’s body, the weight of a past written in scars both visible and unseen. The woman lying beneath her was a contradiction - a hardened survivor, yet so vulnerable in this moment, stripped of the armor she had carried for so long. Judy tried to imagine it, the childhood that had been stolen, the lessons written in blood and betrayal, the merciless world that had forced Valerie to carve out a place for herself with gritted teeth and clenched fists.

She searched for something to say, some phrase that could shoulder even a fraction of that weight, but nothing felt right. No words could erase the years, no words could mend what had been broken. And so, she let silence speak for her. She tightened her embrace, pulling Valerie closer, as if she could shield her from the ghosts of her past. Offering her the only thing that mattered - the promise that she was here, and she wasn’t going anywhere.

Judy’s breath mixed with Val’s as she leaned in, pressing a soft, lingering kiss just below her ear. Then another, slow and deliberate, tracing the line of her jaw. She could feel the tension in Valerie’s body, the way she fought against the instinct to hold herself together, to brace against tenderness the same way she braced against pain. So, Judy took her time, her mouth traveling with quiet reverence across the sharp angles and soft curves of Valerie’s face. She kissed the slope of her cheek, her brow, the corner of her mouth, each touch featherlight but filled with purpose - silent vows written in skin and breath.

When their lips finally met, the kiss was unhurried, gentle, a careful intertwining rather than a claiming. There was no urgency, no rush to deepen it, only the steady press of lips, a shared moment suspended between them. Judy poured herself into it - everything she couldn’t say, everything she needed Valerie to feel. That she was safe here. That she didn’t have to fight, didn’t have to guard herself. That this wasn’t about needing or taking, but about giving, about being. And if it took all morning, if it took a lifetime, Judy would show her.

As they reluctantly parted, Judy’s gaze flickered toward the nightstand, landing on the blinking numbers of the digital clock. A cold jolt shot through her, the outside world creeping back in like an unwelcome intruder. For one blissful, fleeting moment, soccer had ceased to exist. The demands of the world had faded into nothing, leaving only Valerie’s lips, Valerie’s hands, Valerie’s whispers against her skin. But now, reality crashed back in, relentless and impatient.

“Shit!” The curse left her lips in a breathless rush, and she bolted upright, limbs tangling in the sheets in a frantic attempt to scramble out of bed. "We’re late! We’ve got training, and if I don’t get moving, I’ll be in serious troub—”

Before she could fully escape, Valerie’s arms looped around her waist, pulling her back with a firm but unhurried strength. The motion was so seamless, so effortless, that Judy barely had time to resist before she found herself pressed snugly against Valerie’s chest. Her protest died on her lips, muffled against the other woman’s skin as she wriggled in a vain attempt to break free.

“Relax,” Valerie murmured against the crown of Judy’s head. “Training’s been pushed back an hour. We’ve got time.”

Judy stilled, the frantic pounding of her heart slow to catch up with the revelation. She lifted her head, narrowing her eyes in suspicion. “Wait, seriously?”

Valerie smirked, her grip on Judy loosening just enough to let her nestle more comfortably against her. “Yes, seriously. Stout sent me a message while you were too busy drooling all over me.”

Judy huffed, swatting at Valerie’s arm in mock irritation. “You could have mentioned that before I nearly had a heart attack.”

Valerie’s laughter, soft and melodic, filled the space between them, dissolving the last of Judy’s tension. “But then I wouldn’t have had the pleasure of watching your adorable little panic. Besides,” she added with a playful glint in her eye, “I wasn’t quite ready to let you go just yet.”

Judy rolled her eyes, but her lips twitched, betraying her. Despite herself, she let out a long breath, melting back into Valerie’s embrace. The other woman’s warmth was intoxicating, her scent a blend of sweat, musk, and something distinctly her own, something Judy could never quite describe but always recognized.

A comfortable silence settled between them, the urgency of the outside world momentarily forgotten. Then, as if remembering something, Valerie’s fingers began threading lazily through Judy’s hair, fingertips massaging against her scalp in slow, hypnotic circles. “By the way,” she murmured, “I ordered us breakfast. Rita mentioned you didn’t eat anything yesterday.”

Judy’s eyes snapped open, her head lifting slightly as realization dawned. She turned sharply, meeting Valerie’s gaze. “Rita was here?” she asked, her voice tinged with equal parts surprise and terror.

Valerie chuckled, eyes glinting with amusement. “Oh yeah. She gave me the whole ‘if you hurt her, I’ll kill you’ speech. Pretty terrifying, honestly.”

Judy’s response was a simple, noncommittal “Oh,” as she absorbed the unexpected revelation.

“Oh, indeed,” Valerie’s smirk deepened as she propped herself up on one elbow, studying Judy with that familiar, unreadable intensity. Then, her expression softened, her eyes twinkling with a blend of mischief and seriousness. “Speaking of… you can’t tell anyone about what I showed you yesterday. Not even Rita.”

Judy met her gaze, searching for something unspoken in those storm-gray eyes. She could feel the weight of whatever Valerie wasn’t saying pressing against the moment, stretching the silence between them. Eventually, she let out a small chuckle, shaking her head. “Not that anyone would believe me,” she said wryly, lips quirking up into a faint smile. “But yeah. You don’t have to worry about that.”

For a minute, Valerie didn’t say anything. She just watched Judy, her expression unreadable, something shifting beneath the surface of her gaze. Then, finally, she exhaled, her fingers trailing one last time down the curve of Judy’s spine before she pulled her closer again, pressing a kiss to her temple.

“Good,” she murmured, and the word carried a weight Judy couldn’t quite place.

After a moment, Judy shifted onto her side, the mattress dipping slightly beneath her as she turned to face Valerie. Their noses nearly brushed, the space between them shrinking until it felt nonexistent. The warmth of the sheets, the soft scent of Valerie’s skin, the quiet rhythm of their breaths - all of it wrapped around them.

“As long as we’re discussing secrets,” Judy murmured, her voice low, cautious, “how do you slip through all the tests and scans with your chrome? Officials don’t just let that slide.”

Valerie’s fingers stilled where they had been absently twirling a strand of Judy’s hair, and for a moment, her gaze drifted as though weighing what to say. Then, with a measured inhale, she spoke. “It’s a daemon,” she admitted, her voice carrying a faint, almost reluctant edge. “A custom hack designed by FIA for field operatives. When I’m scanned, it cloaks my cyberware, makes it appear like I’m just another player, as though there’s nothing out of the ordinary about me.”

Judy blinked. Her mind flickered back to Rita’s sharp, scathing words during their first match, the accusations that had lodged themselves in the pit of her stomach and never quite left. A slow, creeping unease curled in her chest, winding tight. A subtle shiver of doubt began to take root.

Was it all an illusion? Just smoke and mirrors? Had Valerie truly been that good, or was she simply manipulating the system? Had the chrome done the heavy lifting, and the enhancements gave her an edge no one else had? Soccer wasn’t just a game to Judy - it was sweat, grit, raw talent honed through endless sacrifice. The idea that someone could manipulate it, tilt the balance in their favor with lines of code and concealed chrome, felt like a betrayal of everything she had fought for. Victories should be hard-won through relentless effort not through unfair advantages or hidden cheats.

Valerie must have sensed the shift in her, because her fingers, once so idly tender, paused their movement entirely. Her expression softened. “What’s wrong?” she asked, her voice laced with genuine concern.

Judy swallowed, searching her face. “I need to know,” she said, her voice betraying the depth of her uncertainty. “Is this real? Have you been playing fair, or is it just… a trick?”

Silence settled between them, thin and fragile, before Valerie let out a breath, her shoulders relaxing just slightly, as if bracing for impact. “I used it once,” she confessed, each syllable heavy with regret. “Not my proudest moment. I was desperate to prove myself, to make the first squad, to stand out. And, well…” A wry, self-conscious smile flickered at the edges of her lips. “I might’ve also wanted to impress a girl from the other team. I know that’s not an excuse, especially when I see how sacred this sport is to you. I’m truly sorry, Jude.”

Judy’s stomach tightened. The first match. Their first match.

The memory of that night hit her all at once - the way Valerie had smirked at her across the field, the pulse of adrenaline when they had locked eyes, the electric moment of connection that had felt so undeniable. That goal. That wink. All of it had been the start of something, something that had felt real, so pure and promising. But now, the edges blurred, the certainty crumbling beneath the weight of this new truth.

The pain cut deeper than she had expected, twisting in ways she couldn’t control. It wasn’t just about the chrome - it was the fracture it left in the foundation of what they had built, the way it rewrote their beginning. She hated herself for the depth of her hurt, yet she could not deny the bitter sting of betrayal.

“I haven’t used it since,” Valerie continued, her voice quieter now, raw. “I made sure to deactivate it before every game after that. I can’t undo the past, nor can I change many other things… but I swear to you, Jude. I won’t use it again.”

Judy exhaled, slow and measured, her fingers lifting of their own accord to brush against Valerie’s jaw. The touch was gentle, but her heart was anything but steady.

“I believe you,” she murmured, though there was still the faintest echo of pain in her voice. “Just… never again.”

Valerie’s eyes fluttered shut for a moment, as though letting the words sink into her bones. Then, with a softness that felt almost reverent, she leaned into Judy’s touch. “I promise,” she whispered, and there was something so unguarded in her tone that Judy felt herself thaw, just a little.

Their eyes met, the world around them narrowing, the moment stretching between them, fragile yet full, the tension from earlier giving way to something quieter, something waiting to be mended. Their faces were so close now, a breath away, drawn together by the silent pull of everything unsaid. And then—

A knock. Gentle, hesitant, shattering the spell in an instant.

Judy startled slightly, blinking as reality reasserted itself. Valerie exhaled a quiet chuckle, her lips curving into a small, amused smile. “Breakfast,” she murmured.

She slipped from the bed, moving with the effortless grace that always seemed to define her. As she pulled on a shirt, Judy let her gaze linger, tracing the lean lines of her form, the way she rolled her shoulders, the quiet familiarity in the gesture.

When Valerie opened the door, the scent of fresh coffee and warm pastries filled the space, rich and inviting. Judy sat up slowly, watching as Valerie wheeled the cart inside, her earlier solemnity now cloaked in something easier, lighter. It was a small, simple act - bringing her breakfast - but there was something profoundly intimate about it, something that made the ache in Judy’s chest lessen.

Still, as she watched Valerie pour them both coffee, she couldn’t shake the lingering thought - there were still layers to Valerie’s story left to uncover, secrets tucked away beneath her calm exterior. Valerie remained a mystery, a series of truths and half-truths, a puzzle Judy was far from solving.

The sun hung high in the sky, its golden rays stretching across the field, casting long shadows that danced with the players’ movements. As she stood catching her breath after a grueling round of corners drills, the sensation of sweat trickling down her spine was oddly comforting. It was a reminder that she was here, that she was still pushing, still fighting. Her fingers tightened around the water bottle in her hand as she took a slow sip, her gaze drifting across the field.

The air carried the crisp scent of freshly cut grass, a fragrance so familiar to Judy that it felt woven into the fabric of her memories. It was more than just the smell of the game - it was the scent of home, of safety, of every battle fought on the pitch, every dream chased with relentless hunger. On the soccer field, Judy was free - free to be herself. This was her sanctuary, the place where her love for the game burned brightest. Soccer wasn’t just a sport to her - it was her lifeblood, her one true passion, the one thing she was certain would lead to a happy ending. Despite the injuries, the setbacks, and the bitter taste of past defeats, it had all forged her into something stronger.

The scent of grass transported her back to those nerve-wracking tryouts in Salem, when every step she took had been scrutinized by Regina’s sharp eyes, her natural talent laid bare under the relentless analysis of her first coach. It had been there the first time she pulled on the national team’s jersey, standing on the edge of the field, heart pounding as she waited for her moment. She’d only played ten minutes that day, the rest of the tournament spent warming the bench, but it had never dampened her hunger.

This time, it was different. This time, she wasn’t a hopeful kid waiting for her turn - this was her team. And she would lead them, push them, drive them forward until they reached the summit. A World Cup was in her future - she could feel it in her bones. It had to be. She had poured everything into this game, bled for it, fought for it. There was no other ending she was willing to accept. She was ready.

Her thoughts were interrupted by movement across the field. The rookies were gathering the scattered soccer balls, stuffing them into the ball bag. Valerie moved with an effortless kind of grace, her every motion fluid, almost absentmindedly precise. As she bent to pick up another ball, her gaze flicked up, catching Judy’s for the briefest of moments.

And then she winked.

It was a small thing, an almost inconsequential gesture, but it sent an unexpected wave of warmth through Judy, spreading from her chest out to her fingertips. She bit down on a smile before it could fully form, but her heart betrayed her, giving the slightest flutter in response.

“You’re starting to look like yourself again.”

The voice came from beside her, steady, familiar. Judy turned to find Rita watching her, arms crossed over her chest, a knowing grin tugging at her lips. “But are you sure about this?” her voice softened, a note of caution slipping into it. She didn’t have to say what this was. It hung between them, unspoken but understood.

Judy’s gaze flickered back to the field. Valerie was talking with Bianca now, the two of them laughing over something, their heads close as they worked. And then, as if sensing the weight of Judy’s attention, Valerie glanced over her shoulder. Their eyes met again, and this time, she didn’t wink - she smiled. Soft, almost shy. It was in these moments - these fleeting, ordinary interactions - that Judy felt a stirring inside her, heat she hadn’t experienced in a long time. Something she was only just beginning to understand.

“Yeah,” she murmured, nodding to herself as much as to her friend. “I’m sure.”

Rita was quiet for a moment, her gaze studying her captain as if searching for cracks, for any sign of hesitation. Whatever she found must have satisfied her because, with a soft sigh, she nodded.

“Good,” she said, her voice quieter now, carrying a quiet weight. Then, after a beat, she added, “Just make sure she doesn’t break your heart again. Or I’ll have to break her jaw.”

The words, half-joking, half-serious, settled between them, laced with unspoken fears and unvoiced hopes. Judy didn’t respond. She simply stood there, watching as Valerie turned back to her task, completely unaware of the quiet storm brewing in Judy’s chest. Rita let the silence linger before stepping away, leaving the other woman alone with her swirling thoughts and the echoes of what had just been said.

After a sharp whistle cut through the air, Rogue's voice followed, crisp and commanding. “Alright, split into two groups. One-on-ones in the zone,” she barked, her tone leaving no room for hesitation.

The team moved like clockwork, dividing with practiced ease, each player falling into formation as if guided by instinct rather than instruction. Judy found herself beside Valerie, their shoulders nearly brushing. The silence between them wasn’t awkward, nor did it need filling - just the quiet pulse of shared focus, the game unfolding before them. Across the field, Panam made the first charge. The thud of the ball against the turf, the clipped shouts of teammates, the distant hum of traffic beyond the training grounds - all of it blended into the familiar rhythm of the game.

Then, a whisper of contact - so light Judy might have imagined it. Fingers, just barely grazing hers.

The touch was fleeting, delicate, but it sent a current up Judy’s spine nonetheless. Her breath caught, her pulse stuttered, but before she could react, the touch came again - this time unmistakable. Valerie’s fingers slipped between hers, a quick, reassuring squeeze before letting go, the warmth lingering even after their hands parted. Judy turned her head slightly, searching Valerie’s face, but the blue-haired striker remained as composed as ever. Eyes locked on the field, her expression unreadable save for the faintest curve at the corner of her lips - so subtle, so maddeningly small, that Judy almost questioned if she had imagined it. Almost.

There was something deeply intimate about the moment, something that made Judy’s heart skip a beat despite bustling activity around them. As her gaze shifted, a flicker of movement at the edge of her vision made her glance toward the sidelines. Regina. The coach stood with arms crossed, her sharp gaze fixed on them. Something in that look sent a ripple of unease through Judy. Did she know? Could she see it - the quiet, magnetic pull between them, the way Judy’s breath always caught just a little differently when Valerie was close?

But there was no time to dwell, no moment to unravel whatever Regina might be piecing together. A shift in the field demanded Judy’s attention, and instinct took over. The ball was at her feet before she had fully processed its arrival, and then she was moving, surging forward into the open space. The world narrowed to the familiar rhythm of footfalls against turf, the measured push and pull of momentum, the sharp intake of breath as the next challenge loomed ahead.

Stout. The defender planted herself firmly in Judy’s path, her stance wide, her expression a mask of determination. But Judy had seen this before - read it before. It was like a second language, writings in invisible ink - the way players positioned themselves, the way their weight shifted a fraction of a second before their next move.

Judy didn’t hesitate. A deft flick of her foot sent the ball spinning just beyond Stout’s reach, her movements fluid, effortless. She glided past, leaving the defender grasping at nothing but empty air, her frustration palpable in the way she turned too late, too slow.

Her gaze swept the field in search of her next move, scanning for the next teammate in line. A calculated shift of weight, a sharp inhale, and then she sent the ball slicing through the air, its trajectory precise, purposeful. The pass landed perfectly at Sandra’s feet. As Judy slowed to a halt and took her place at the end of the queue, the adrenaline that had surged through her veins began to ebb, replaced by a deep, satisfying sense of accomplishment.

This was her team. And no matter what, she would do everything in her power to lead them to the championship.

The sharp, commanding blast of Rogue’s whistle tore through the air, a shrill punctuation against the rhythmic shuffling of exhausted feet and the labored breath of spent bodies. Instinctively, Judy and the rest of the team formed a loose circle at the center of the field, their sweat-damp jerseys clinging to their skin, muscles burning from the relentless drills. Despite the fatigue weighing on them, there was something electric in the air - anticipation, tension, the knowledge that the tournament was close enough to taste.

Rogue stood at the front, arms crossed over her chest, exuding the kind of presence that could make even the most seasoned player straighten up. Beside her, Regina was a study in quiet calculation, her sharp gaze scanning the team with a kind of omniscient awareness, reading each of them before a single word was spoken.

Rogue cleared her throat. “Listen up, ladies,” she began, her tone brisk but laced with something fiercer, something close to pride. “You’ve given everything to this. Poured your heart out. Every drop of sweat, every sacrifice, every goddamn second you’ve spent pushing yourselves past your limits. And now, we’re standing at the edge of something bigger than us. The tournament’s in a few days. This is our shot. This is what we’ve bled for. This is our moment to show what we’re made of.”

Her words reverberated through the team like a rallying cry. Judy felt it deep in her chest - that pull, that fire that made her body thrum with something beyond exhaustion. She could see it in her teammates too, the way backs straightened, chins lifted, the air shifting as determination settled over them like armor.

Regina stepped forward then, voice smooth but edged with quiet intensity. “We know you’re ready,” she said, measured but firm. “We’ve seen it in the way you play, in how you fight for every inch of the field. But the next few weeks aren’t just about skill. They’re about trust. In yourselves. In each other. You don’t win championships alone. And you sure as hell don’t win them if you’re carrying baggage onto the field. But you’re ready. Believe it. And remember that this is more than just a game - it’s our opportunity to make history.”

A murmur of agreement rippled through the team, a slow-burning charge that flickered between them, strengthening the bond forged in sweat, bruises, and a shared hunger for victory. Someone let out a low whistle, another a half-smothered whoop, and then, as if a match had been struck, the team erupted into cheers. For a moment, the weight of expectation lifted, the exhaustion melted away, leaving only raw, unfiltered determination in its place.

Judy felt Valerie at her side, the brush of her arm, the brief squeeze of a calloused hand on her wrist as they turned and started walking off the field. But before they could step away, Regina’s voice rang out once more.

“Hold on a moment, you two.”

Judy’s stomach twisted as she exchanged a glance with Valerie. The field gradually emptied, leaving only the three of them beneath the artificial glow of the floodlights, their shadows stretching long against the turf. Regina fixed her steady, discerning gaze upon the pair. Her eyes were sharp as ever, but there was no anger there - just understanding, and something weightier. She exhaled slowly, crossing her arms.

“You’re not as subtle as you think,” she said, voice even, betraying no emotion.

Judy felt the heat rise to her cheeks, but she held the coach’s gaze, refusing to shrink under the weight of it. Val stood beside her, silent but solid, the picture of calm restraint.

Regina sighed, shaking her head. “Look, I get it. It’s too late to tell you to bury your feelings. And I’m not asking you to. What I am asking is that it doesn’t affect your game. The tournament starts in a few days, and I need every player locked in. We cannot afford distractions. So, it’s far from ideal… But as long as you maintain professionalism on the field, I’ll turn a blind eye. I want to prevent a repeat of what happened during these past few days.”

Judy swallowed hard, the weight of guilt settling deep in her stomach. She had sworn to herself - after the chaos of her rookie season - that she would never again allow personal matters to bleed into the game. That boundary had been set in stone, unyielding. And yet, Regina wasn’t wrong. The past week had been a mess. Tense, volatile, charged with emotions neither she nor Valerie had fully confronted at that time. It had followed them onto the turf. 

But Regina had seen it all. She had watched Judy fight, rise, fall, and claw her way back again, had observed Judy through every triumph and challenge. She knew that whatever tangled emotions brewed beneath the surface, Judy would never let them compromise her loyalty to the team. 

The raven-haired woman studied them both, her voice lowering. “Tomorrow evening, we have a team dinner. But before that, I want you two to take the day off. Go somewhere, anywhere away from this damn hotel. Talk. Get your shit together. Resolve whatever needs to be resolved. Because when we step onto that field, I need you both playing at your best. And I won’t have heartbreak or jealousy screwing with my locker room. Am I clear?”

Judy bit the inside of her cheek, glancing at Valerie. After a beat, she gave a slow nod. Judy followed suit. Regina’s gaze lingered a second longer before she turned, heading toward sidelines. “Good,” she said over her shoulder, her voice carrying a finality that left no room for argument. “Don’t make me regret this.”

As she disappeared into the dim corridor, Judy let out a slow breath, the tension finally releasing from her shoulders. She turned to Valerie, finding those sharp gray eyes already on her, studying, calculating. The faintest hint of a smirk played at her lips.

“So,” Val murmured, voice low, teasing. “Guess we’ve got a date.”

Judy stood in the bathroom, staring at her reflection in the mirror as she mechanically went through the motions of her nighttime routine. The face looking back at her was one she knew well, yet tonight it seemed burdened with something heavier than mere exhaustion. Shadows clung beneath her eyes, a testament to the long hours spent on the field, the lingering strain coiled tight in her muscles. She ran a hand through her damp hair, fingers combing through the residual tension, but it did little to ease the weight pressing against her chest. Regina’s words echoed in her mind, the coach’s voice laced with something between warning and quiet concern. Judy had tried to shake it off, but it followed her, threading through her thoughts even now.

She exhaled slowly, shutting the medicine cabinet with a quiet click. Her gaze drifted to the slightly ajar door, where a sliver of golden light seeped in from the bedroom beyond. The warm glow felt like an invitation, a quiet promise of respite from the heaviness pressing in on her. And on the other side of that door - Valerie.

The thought of her waiting there sent a small, involuntary smile to Judy’s lips. She could picture it already - Val sprawled across the mattress, her blue hair tousled against the pillow, watching the doorway with that patient, unwavering gaze Judy had come to crave more than she liked to admit.

Flipping off the bathroom light, she stepped into the bedroom, her eyes immediately finding Valerie’s. As expected, she was propped up on one elbow, watching her with that quiet intensity, the kind that always felt like it saw more than Judy was willing to lay bare. There was something else in her expression tonight, though - something softer, a flicker of vulnerability that made Judy’s heart squeeze unexpectedly tight in her chest.

For a beat, she simply stood there, soaking in the sight of Valerie, the way the dim lamplight cast shadows across the sharp lines of her face, the slow rise and fall of her breathing. The weight of the outside world faded, its edges blurring as she crossed the room, drawn into the quiet pull between them.

“This isn’t your bed, y’know,” Judy quipped, tilting her head, a teasing grin dancing on her lips.

Valerie’s eyes widened slightly, caught off guard. She sat up, the flicker of panic in her expression almost imperceptible, but Judy caught it anyway. “Oh… I thought—”

Judy huffed a quiet laugh, shaking her head. Before Valerie could stumble through another word, she reached out, fingers brushing lightly against her arm. “Relax, I’m messing with you,” she murmured, her smile softening. The tension in Valerie’s shoulders eased, though her lips pressed together in a small, self-conscious smirk.

Judy didn’t give her a chance to dwell on it. With a gentle nudge against Valerie’s sternum, she coaxed her back down, slipping into the space beside her. “Stay,” she said, quieter this time. A request, not a tease.

Valerie let out a breath of relief, a small, shaky laugh escaping as she sank back into the mattress. The tension in her frame unraveled, dissolving like mist in the warmth of the bed, and without hesitation, she pulled the covers up and over them both. The fabric whispered against Judy’s skin, cocooning them in a quiet, intimate warmth - one that felt safer than anything she had known in longer than she cared to admit.

Then came the instinctive shift, the unspoken understanding between them. Valerie’s arm curled around her waist, firm but gentle, drawing her in with an ease that made Judy wonder how this had happened so naturally, as though their bodies had been meant to fit together like this all along. Judy let herself sink into it, into the solid warmth of Val’s body against hers, the steady rhythm of her breathing beneath her fingertips. The weight in her chest didn’t disappear entirely, but in here, in Valerie’s embrace, wrapped in the hush of the night, it felt just a little lighter.

There was something about this - about them - that felt inevitable, as if they had always been moving toward this moment, step by step, without even realizing it. How effortlessly they had found their rhythm, how they fit into each other’s spaces as though they had done this a thousand times before. It amazed Judy, how something so new could feel so familiar, how comfort and desire could weave together so seamlessly, how effortlessly they had fallen into this routine, as though they had been building this unspoken bond for years.

But it was also complicated, and that’s what tomorrow was supposed to address.

Judy had always been careful about keeping her personal life from bleeding into her career. She had learned, painfully, that emotions tangled with ambition could lead to ruin. But Valerie - Valerie was different. This thing between them was different. It felt… significant.

She craved this closeness, the quiet solace of leaning into Val’s warmth, of being held in a way that made her feel safe and cherished instead of simply desired. It unraveled her, sent shivers through her even as it soothed something deep in her bones. And the way Valerie looked at her - like Judy was her whole damn world - was enough to make her dizzy. She had never had this before, never let herself believe she could. And yet, here they were. It was thrilling, intoxicating, and terrifying all at once.

The weight of the day pressed down on her, her eyelids grew heavier, the pull of sleep creeping in despite her need to hold onto this moment just a little longer.

“So,” Valerie’s voice broke the quiet, a hesitant note beneath the usual confidence. “Do we have any plans for tomorrow?”

Judy met her gaze, searching those storm-colored eyes as though they held the answer to a question she hadn’t yet figured out how to ask. There was uncertainty there - mirroring her own - but also something steady, something unyielding.

“Yeah,” she said at last, the word coming out quieter than she intended. “I think we should follow Reggie’s advice. We have a lot to talk about.”

A flicker of understanding passed through Valerie’s expression, and she nodded. That was another thing about her - she never pushed, never asked for more than Judy was ready to give.

Valerie’s hand found hers beneath the blankets, their fingers tangling together in a quiet, grounding touch. It was a simple gesture, but it held the promise of unraveling the layers of mystery that still lay between them. Judy squeezed gently, feeling the heat of Valerie’s skin against hers - a warmth that settled deep inside her, electric and calming all at once. “Let’s make the most of tomorrow,” she murmured. “Let’s figure this out. Together.”

A small smile played at Valerie’s lips before she leaned in, brushing the lightest of kisses against Judy’s mouth. It was soft, unhurried - filled with a thousand unspoken promises.

“Together,” Valerie echoed, and the word settled into Judy’s heart, soothing the anxiety that had been gnawing at her all evening.

“I might even have an idea of where we could go,” Judy whispered, her voice trailing off as her eyes fluttered shut.

They lay there in the stillness that settled over them, wrapped in each other’s arms as the world outside receded into a distant murmur. Judy felt the gentle rhythm of Valerie’s breath beside her, a steady cadence that seemed to sync with the beat of her own heart. For the first time in what felt like forever, she allowed herself to believe that maybe, just maybe, they could make this work.

Chapter Text

Chapter X | There’s Nothing Holding Me Back
'Cause if we lost our minds and we took it way too far, I know we'd be alright, I know we would be alright.

The train hummed beneath them, a steady rhythm of steel gliding over tracks, its low murmur blending with the faint rustling of pages from an old newspaper held by a man seated a few rows away. Morning sunlight spilled through the wide windows, casting golden streaks across the empty seats and warming the skin of Judy’s bare arms.

Valerie sat beside her, turned slightly in her seat, watching her with that quiet, unreadable curiosity. There was a subtle eagerness in her expression, an anticipation that made Judy’s lips curve into a small, knowing smile. “So, what exactly is in Mount-es-serrat?” she asked, her voice soft, almost reverent, as if she was speaking in a sacred space.

They slipped away right after the morning briefing. None of their teammates bothered to ask where they were going. Whether out of distraction or an unspoken understanding, no one pried. The freedom of it sent a quiet thrill through Judy, a flutter of anticipation settling deep in her stomach, warm and restless. It only grew stronger with each glance Valerie stole in her direction, each subtle brush of their arms as they moved through the bustling streets. The way Valerie’s lips quirked into a knowing smile when they arrived at the train station, made Judy’s breath hitch, as if they were sharing something only the two of them could understand.

The train carried them out of the city’s tangled streets and into the waiting arms of the mountains, the shift in scenery unfolding like the slow turn of a page. Though the journey lasted less than an hour, it felt like they were crossing into another world entirely. Judy leaned against the window, watching the colors shifting from the muted grays of the city to the earthy greens and sunbaked browns of the Spanish countryside.

Something stirred in her chest - nostalgia, maybe. The memories of her first trip to Spain surfaced unbidden, carrying with them the haze of summers past, the taste of salt and sun on her skin. It had been a long time since she’d felt this way - this light, this free.

“Montserrat,” she corrected, the name rolling smoothly off her tongue. “It’s this mountain range just outside of Barcelona. There’s a monastery up there, so high it feels like it was carved right out of the cliffs. The views are insane—you can see for miles, like the whole world is laid out beneath you.”

“Sounds like you’ve been there before.”

Judy nodded, glancing at the passing landscape, though her mind had already wandered years back, to a time when she had walked these same tracks, watching the same scenery slip past. “Yeah. First offseason after changing teams, I took my grandparents to Spain. They’d never traveled before, never left the country, and I wanted to give them something special.”

She could still see it clearly - the wide-eyed wonder on her abuelo’s face, the quiet reverence in her abuela’s whispered prayers as they stepped into the monastery. The way the sunlight hit the mountain peaks, turning them into something almost celestial. It had been one of those rare moments in life that felt untouchable, frozen in time. And she wanted to live through this again, only this time she needed a certain blue-haired soccer player by her side. 

Valerie studied her with a hint of admiration shining in her eyes. “That’s really sweet, Jude. How’d they like it?”

“My abuela loved it. She’s super religious, so visiting Montserrat was like a pilgrimage for her. I remember the way her face lit up when we reached the top—like she was seeing something divine. She kept whispering prayers under her breath the whole time.” She paused, lost in the memory for a beat, then added with a smirk, “But my favorite part was this sculpture. You’ll see when we get there.”

A slow, mischievous grin spread across Val’s lips. “Is it one of a naked lady with big tits?”

Judy let out a bark of laughter, shoving her lightly. “No, you perv.”

Valerie chuckled, her smirk widening. “Shame. That would’ve made for an interesting pilgrimage.”

Judy shook her head, still smiling, and let the quiet settle between them, but it wasn’t an empty silence - it was comfortable, easy, the kind that made her stomach feel light and warm. It struck her then, how naturally conversation flowed between them, how effortless it felt to be here, talking like this, watching Valerie absorb her words as if they were worth something. There was no pressure, no expectation - just a genuine interest that made Judy want to keep talking, to keep unraveling the tangled threads of her thoughts and feelings.

Judy had spent years guarding her emotions, keeping things close to the chest, but here, with Valerie, the walls didn’t feel necessary. It was a strange, yet liberating experience, but it felt right. In this quiet, intimate space, she was stripped of her armor, and somehow, that made her feel more secure than ever.

She let her fingers slide against Valerie’s, intertwining them with a deliberate slowness. “Have you ever been to Spain before?”

Valerie’s gaze flicked to their joined hands before returning to the window. She hesitated, as if weighing her answer. “I have,” she admitted. “But it wasn’t like this. It was for… well—work. Barely saw anything beyond safehouses.” A pause, then, softer, “So, in a way, it feels like I’m really here for the first time.” She turned to her then, a small, sincere smile playing at her lips. “And I’m glad I get to experience it with you.”

A slow shiver ran down Judy’s spine, her pulse stuttering. It was so simple, the way Valerie said things - without embellishment, without pretense. Just raw honesty. And yet, it made something tighten deep in her chest, made her want to lean in, to press closer to the warmth beside her. So, she did. Resting her head against Valerie’s shoulder, she sighed, her body easing into the quiet comfort of their closeness. Valerie’s fingers squeezed hers, her thumb brushing absentmindedly over Judy’s knuckles before she pressed a lingering kiss against the side of her head. Judy let her eyes slip shut, wanting to capture this moment, keep it pressed between the pages of memory like a dried flower.

And for a while, it felt like time was on their side. But then, the mountains emerged on the horizon, jagged and breathtaking against the sky. And as Valerie’s breath hitched ever so slightly - just enough for Judy to catch it - she found herself watching her more than the view outside, mesmerized not by the grandeur of Montserrat, but by the wonder reflected in Valerie’s gray eyes.

“So,” Judy began, her voice carrying that familiar lilt of mischief, anticipation curling at the edges of her words. “Are you ready to see why I brought you here?”

Valerie shot her a playful grin, the kind that usually came with a sharp retort, but whatever teasing remark she had prepared died on her lips the moment they stepped onto the terrace. The view alone was breathtaking, but it wasn’t the skyline that stole Valerie’s breath - it was the sculpture at the terrace’s heart. Judy heard the sharp inhale, saw the shift in her companion’s expression - awe flickering across her face, momentarily unguarded. A rare, genuine gasp escaped her, gray eyes widening. Judy could practically feel the weight of realization settling over her, the sheer gravity of what stood before them.

“Told ya,” Judy murmured, a small, satisfied smirk tugging at her lips.

The sculpture loomed above them, an ascending illusion of balance and defiance. The heavy slabs, worn and solid, stacked skyward in a way that made the whole structure seem to teeter on the edge of possibility. A stairway that led to nowhere - but begged to be climbed anyway. A fence surrounded the installation, an obvious deterrent for anyone foolish enough to get too close. But the way Valerie’s gaze flicked up the sculpture, the way her fingers flexed at her sides - it told Judy everything she needed to know.

“You wanna get closer?” she asked, the words left her lips before she could stop them.

Valerie turned to her, frowning at first, as if puzzled by how they could possibly close the distance between themselves and something meant to be admired from afar. Then, realization dawned, and that grin - the one that made Judy’s pulse trip over itself - spread across her lips.

It was a lazy Thursday afternoon, the grounds almost deserted, save for a few distant figures lost in their own worlds. Judy barely had time to register the plan forming before Valerie grabbed her wrist and pulled her forward.

The fence was unguarded. The coast was clear. The jump was easy. And then, just like that, they stood at the base of the towering stones. Judy sucked in a breath, suddenly aware of the sheer scale of it. The stones stacked far higher than she’d remembered. The first block alone rose to her hip, solid and immovable, the smooth surface worn by wind and time. But Valerie didn’t hesitate. She moved with the fluid confidence Judy had always admired - had always envied - gripping the edge of the first slab and hauling herself up like it was nothing.

Judy hesitated for only a second, adrenaline pulsing hot in her veins, before she followed. The climb was easier than she’d expected, the stones cool beneath her fingers, her heartbeat hammering in her chest - not from exertion, but from the sheer thrill of what they were doing. By the time they reached the third block from the top, Valerie settled, legs dangling over the edge, her expression a blend of triumph and happiness. She turned to Judy, her grin gentler now, more intimate.

“Let’s take a picture,” she said, her voice unexpectedly sincere. “I want to remember this forever.”

The word caught Judy off guard. Forever. It was a word too big, too heavy, too complicated, and it settled like a stone in her stomach. She exhaled slowly, pushing aside the weight of it, and pulled out her phone.

Valerie reached for her, drawing her close with an easy, natural kind of intimacy. Judy found herself nestled between her legs, Valerie’s arm curling around her waist, just beneath her breasts. The hold was loose but certain, grounding her. Judy lifted the phone, angling the shot. They were a mess - wind-tangled hair, flushed faces, the adrenaline of the climb still thrumming beneath their skin. But their eyes sparkled, wild and exhilarated. It was imperfect, unfiltered, and exactly right. Perfect. Valerie shifted closer, pressing against her, the heat of her body a contrast to the cool stone beneath them. Judy felt the moment stretch.

She snapped a photo, and as she did, Valerie’s lips brushed – featherlight - against the curve of her neck. “Fuck, Jude,” the blue-haired woman exhaled, her voice barely more than a whisper, rough and unsteady. “I still can’t believe we’re here.”

Of all the things Valerie could’ve said, it was this - this breathless confession against her skin - that made Judy’s pulse stutter. Truth be told - neither could she.

Her fingers clenched around the phone in her hand, but her grip faltered, a sudden dryness coating her throat. The words sent a shiver down her spine, lodging themselves somewhere deep inside her chest, where they burned with an intensity she wasn’t ready to face. Acting on pure instinct, she spun around so quickly she nearly lost her footing on the sculpture. But before she could even think about falling, Valerie caught her, hands strong and steady, pulling her in before she could slip away.

And then she was pressed against the cold stone, the warmth of Valerie’s body trapping her there, thighs bracketing her own. It was sudden, feverish, the heat between them unbearable. The phone slipped from her grasp, landing on the step with a dull clatter, but Judy barely registered it. Her hands had already found Valerie’s waist instead - fingers curling around the waistband of her shorts, tugging, desperate to erase the space between them. Judy couldn’t stop herself, didn’t want to stop.

Valerie’s lips crashed against hers, hot and slick, the taste of her dizzying. Her hands tangled in Judy’s hair, pulling her in for a better angle, as if she needed more, as if the kiss alone wasn’t enough. And maybe it wasn’t. Maybe nothing ever would be. Their mouths moved with frantic urgency, clashing, claiming, taking. Valerie pressed closer, her hips rolling against Judy’s, sending a sharp thrill through her body. Every thought, every need, every unspoken desire surged through her in a tidal wave, erasing any lingering doubts.

Judy gasped, her fingers digging into Valerie’s sides, nails catching on fabric, trying to hold onto something - anything - as the world narrowed down to the feeling of Valerie against her, against her mouth, her skin, her heart. She didn’t hesitate. Didn’t stop to think. Just acted. Pushed harder, bit roughly, fought back against the dominance the blue-haired woman always threatened to claim. They were both burning, their need an unrelenting fire, leaving them breathless, desperate, raw.

"Fuck," Valerie rasped, pulling back just enough to suck in air, her forehead falling against Judy’s. Her eyes were dark, pupils blown wide. "Jude, I—"

Judy knew what she was about to say. Felt it in the way Valerie trembled against her, in the way she hesitated, in the way her voice cracked around the weight of it. She should let her say it. Should let her put those words between them, tangible, real.

But she wasn’t ready.

Instead, she surged forward, capturing Valerie’s lips in another heated kiss before she could speak, before she could shatter the moment with something Judy wasn’t sure she could handle. And Valerie let her. Let her take, let her consume, let her drown in it. A buzz shot through her body when she felt the slight tremor in Valerie’s limbs, the way she reacted instinctively to Judy’s warmth. Valerie - strong, untouchable, always in control - was giving her all of herself. And Judy wanted to watch her break.

Her fingers slid down the length of Valerie’s back, pressing against muscle, pulling her in, closer, closer, until there was nothing left between them but heat. Valerie wrapped her legs around her waist, locking them together, her body a furnace against Judy’s own. Judy was losing herself in it, in her, in the feel of Valerie’s skin, the taste of her, the way she breathed against her lips like she was the only thing that mattered. The only thing that had ever mattered.

And underneath it all - beneath the frantic need, beneath the desperation, beneath the burning desire - something deeper stirred. Something that had been quietly growing in the hidden corners of her heart for a while. Something Judy had been trying to ignore. She’d felt it before, had recognized it during their time apart. She’d spent weeks running from it, pretending it didn’t exist, convincing herself it was something fleeting, something temporary. Something she could erase.

But now, pressed against Valerie, lost in the haze of her body, her hands, her lips - there was no denying it. In this moment, with them finally in a good place, she let that feeling flood back into her, stronger than ever. She was falling apart in Valerie's arms, but she didn’t mind. For the first time in a long time, falling felt like the most natural thing in the world.

By the time they broke apart, they were both gasping for breath, their chests rising and falling in tandem. Struggling to reclaim the oxygen they had so willingly sacrificed. Judy’s heart pounded, each beat a relentless echo of the truth she couldn’t run from anymore.

Valerie’s lips were red and swollen, her pupils wide and dark. When their gazes met, Judy saw it - everything she needed to know, everything she’d been too afraid to name. Vulnerability. Longing. A hunger that mirrored her own. A desperate need for more. A confirmation that Judy wasn’t alone in her inability to hold back.

"Val," she whispered, barely aware of the word as it left her lips.

Valerie’s fingers brushed against her cheek, skimming the line of her jaw, her touch impossibly soft. Then, without a word, she kissed her again - slower this time, lingering, reverent. And Judy melted into her, let her take her apart piece by piece, let herself fall even deeper. When they finally pulled away, Valerie’s fingers wove through her colorful hair, her touch grounding, soothing. She stared at Judy like she was memorizing her, committing every detail to memory, as if she was afraid she might disappear. And Judy couldn’t look away, held captive by the intensity of Val’s gaze, like she was under a spell.

“Thank you for not giving up on me,” the blue-haired woman said, the words escaping her in a rush, as if she couldn’t keep them in any longer.

Judy’s heart clenched, the weight of unspoken thoughts pressing against her ribs. She exhaled slowly, letting her forehead rest against Valerie’s, their breaths mingling. A warmth spread through her chest, something deep and aching, something too big to ignore. There was so much to say. So much that needed to be unraveled, understood, agreed upon. But the words felt tangled, caught somewhere between her heart and her throat, and she wasn’t sure how to begin.

Still, those three words - the ones that had been lingering on the tip of her tongue since morning - kept crawling back, relentless in their demand to be spoken. She had swallowed them when Valerie kissed her lazily before slipping into the shower, let them settle unspoken in her chest while their fingers twined together on the way to the train station, bit them back on the ride, even as they sat close, folded into each other, feeling the world shrink to just the space between them. And now, standing here, Valerie so close she could count the flecks of silver in her gray eyes, the urge was unbearable.

Judy could feel it rising, an insistent burn spreading through her veins, urging her forward. Her lips parted before she could think better of it, her body moving on instinct, pulled by something undeniable. Valerie was looking at her, gaze steady, expectant, and Judy could feel the moment stretching, teetering at the edge of something irreversible. The confession hovered on the tip of her tongue, on the brink of release. She just had to spit it out. She just had to—

A sudden eruption of noise shattered the fragile quiet. Judy jerked, pulse spiking, and turned her head toward the commotion. Two security guards were storming toward them, their expressions set in grim determination. The moment between them splintered, the bubble of intimacy bursting in an instant.

“Shit, we need to get out of here,” Val muttered, eyes flicking to Judy’s before darting back to the guards closing in.

Judy let out a breathless laugh, the sharp jolt of adrenaline cutting through the haze of emotion. Without another thought, she grabbed her phone and turned, taking off down the steps with a sharp burst of movement. And even as they ran, even as the world tilted back into chaos, Judy could still feel those three words burning at the back of her throat, waiting - just waiting - for their moment.

They crashed through the entrance of the train station, breathless and laughing, their wild energy spilling into the cavernous space. The sound of their footsteps echoed against concrete, chased by the lingering pulse of adrenaline that still thrummed through their bodies.

Judy stumbled first, her back hitting a rusted pillar, and let herself slide down just enough to catch her breath. Her heart pounded, half from exertion, half from the sheer joy still bubbling inside her. The thrill of their impromptu escape shimmered in her chest like a live wire. Beside her, Valerie collapsed with an unrestrained grin, her blue hair falling in tousled waves around her face, cheeks flushed with exertion.

Laughter spilled between them, bright and unchecked, winding around the dim station like something tangible, something alive. Valerie looked at her, eyes glinting with unspoken happiness, and it sent a ripple of warmth through Judy’s veins. That grin - sharp-edged and reckless - held everything in it. A high Judy didn’t want to come down from. She shook her head, trying to suppress another burst of giggles, but it was impossible. The moment had them both in its grip, and neither wanted to let go.

As the laughter ebbed, leaving behind only the occasional breathless chuckle, the world around them seemed to quiet. The distant murmur of waiting trains, the occasional announcement crackling over an old speaker - it all blurred, faded into insignificance. The only thing that mattered was the space between them, thin as a whisper, charged with something heavier than just shared exhilaration.

Valerie reached for her first. Quick, almost desperate. Her arms circled Judy’s waist, pulling her in with a force that made Judy’s breath hitch, her body colliding against the familiar warmth of Valerie’s. It wasn’t just an embrace - it was something that spoke of everything they had been running from, everything they had been running toward. Judy melted into it, her face finding the crook of Valerie’s neck, where she could inhale the mix of sweat, perfume, and something distinctly, maddeningly hers.

For a brief eternity, nothing else existed. The chaos of their lives, the weight of the past, the uncertainty of whatever waited beyond this station - it all disappeared. Here, there was only the steady rhythm of Valerie’s heartbeat, the way her hands clutched at Judy’s back like she never wanted to let go. Slowly, Judy pulled back just enough to meet her eyes, their foreheads nearly touching, breath mingling in the sliver of space left between them. Her fingers traced the line of Valerie’s jaw, thumb brushing against the still-warm skin of her cheek. The smirk that had lingered on Valerie’s lips softened, the wildness in her gaze shifting into something quieter, something deeper. The distance between them seemed to shrink with every heartbeat, their lips drawing closer, the promise of another kiss hanging in the air, sweet and inevitable.

Then, just as their mouths were about to meet, a small tug on Valerie’s sleeve jolted them from their trance. They turned to find a young girl standing before them, wide-eyed with a mixture of awe and shyness, clutching a small notepad against her chest. She wore an oversized Spain national team jersey, the fabric swallowing her tiny frame, making her look even smaller. Just behind her, a woman - presumably her mother - hovered with a sheepish, apologetic smile, shifting her weight as if debating whether to step in or let her daughter have this moment.

“Perdón,” the girl said softly, her voice tentative yet threaded with quiet determination. “¿Puedes darme tu autógrafo, por favor?”

Valerie’s eyes widened slightly, the unexpected request momentarily derailing her from their shared moment. But then, as if something within her clicked back into place, a gentle, genuine smile broke across her face. The sharp edges of the moment softened, her excitement giving way to serene, grounded warmth. She crouched to meet the girl’s gaze, moving with the kind of care that Judy had only ever seen when Valerie let her guard down completely. “Claro,” she said, her Spanish tinged with an adorable mispronunciation. She took the notepad from the girl’s small hands, her fingers careful as they brushed the pages.

Judy swallowed hard, something warm and bittersweet knotting in her chest. The day's experiences had momentarily dulled her awareness of Valerie's past struggles. Made her forget that, despite all the ghosts still clinging to Valerie’s past, this was who she was now. Someone tender and loving. Not a shadow-drenched figure of secrecy and steel, but someone who could smile so easily, who could kneel before a child with nothing but patience and kindness in her eyes.

Judy watched as Valerie signed the notepad with an effortless flourish, even adding a tiny, playful doodle of a soccer ball next to her name. Then she glanced up, her expression soft with curiosity. “¿Cómo te llamas?” she asked.

The girl’s face lit up instantly, her shyness dissolving into pure delight. “Lola,” she said, the single word bright with excitement. Her grin stretched wide enough to outshine the dim station lights. “¡Gracias!”

Judy found herself smiling, unable to resist the quiet magic of the moment. She took the notepad next, adding her own signature beside Valerie’s, embellishing it with a small heart. When she handed it back, she glanced at the girl’s mother, who stood behind her with a smile that spoke volumes of appreciation and amusement. “Aquí tienes,” Judy murmured, her voice a gentle murmur of affection.

Lola clutched the notepad to her chest like a treasure, her joy bubbling over in a chorus of “Gracias, gracias!” before she turned and skipped away, her tiny sneakers tapping a rhythmic beat against the tiled floor.

Valerie straightened beside her, watching the girl disappear into the crowd, the moment stretching between them like something fragile and unspoken. When she turned back to Judy, there was something different in her expression - something quieter, sweeter. Without thinking, Judy reached for her hand, their fingers intertwining like second nature.

Valerie squeezed once. A silent question.

Judy squeezed back. A silent answer.

They wandered through the labyrinthine streets of Barcelona, their footsteps naturally syncing with the rhythm of the bustling city. The air was thick with the scent of grilled seafood and warm bread, the distant melody of a street musician weaving through the hum of conversation around them. The glow of street lamps bathed the cobblestones in golden light, casting elongated shadows as they walked, their silence filled with the weight of unspoken thoughts.

The day had stretched long and full between them, a haze of breathtaking views from Montserrat and quiet, stolen glances that neither had dared to acknowledge aloud. Regina’s advice still echoed in Judy’s mind - talk, be honest, lay it all out - but instead, they had danced around the edges of something too fragile to name. There had been moments, fleeting but undeniable, where Judy had felt the words forming on her lips, only to bite them back, afraid that giving them shape might crack the perfection of a day that felt too good to be true.

She nudged Valerie gently, breaking the silence with a grin. “You were really sweet with that little girl,” she said, recalling the child at the train station, how Valerie had crouched to her level and spoken in careful, measured Spanish. “And gotta say, your Spanish wasn’t half bad. You didn’t make her cry, so that’s a win in my book.”

Valerie chuckled, low and warm, the sound threading through Judy like an ember catching fire. “Glad I passed your test,” she said, amusement tugging at her lips. “Think I need a tutor?”

“Definitely,” Judy quipped, cocking an eyebrow. “Can’t have you butchering the language when I’m around.”

Valerie’s smirk deepened, effortless and devastating in its effect. That smile always did something to Judy, made her heart beating faster, made her want to press closer, fall into it. The city swirled around them, vibrant and alive, but all Judy could focus on was the easy rhythm between them, the way Valerie’s fingers brushed hers in passing, fleeting yet deliberate.

A sudden memory sparked, bright and insistent, and Judy halted mid-step. “I’ve been craving something since we landed,” she announced, her voice tinged with excitement. “It’s actually pretty close.”

Valerie arched a brow, her smirk turning wicked. “I’m right here, Jude.”

Judy groaned, rolling her eyes even as heat crept up her neck. “Not that,” she huffed, though her lips betrayed her with a smile. “There’s this tiny ice cream parlor just around the corner. I went there last time I was in Barcelona, and you have to try it.”

Valerie tilted her head, considering, before nodding. “Lead the way. I’m always up for something sweet.”

Judy grabbed Valerie’s forearm, tugging her along with newfound urgency. They ducked into quieter alleyways, where string lights crisscrossed overhead like scattered stars, the warmth of the evening wrapping around them. The faint sounds of a Spanish guitar drifted from a nearby plaza, the city’s heartbeat steady and unyielding. After a few more turns, they rounded a final corner, and there it was - a tiny, unassuming shop tucked between two ancient buildings, its colorful awning lit softly by the amber glow of street lamps.

The sight of it sent a surge of delight through Judy, and she turned to Valerie with barely contained glee. “You're going to love this place,” she declared, her voice light, almost breathless.

Valerie’s eyes sparkled as she took it in, a smile playing at the edges of her lips. “This day just keeps getting better,” she said, reaching out to intertwine her fingers with Judy’s as they stepped inside the cozy parlor.

“Wait till the night.”

The words tumbled out, unfiltered, before she could think twice. Silence stretched between them, thick and charged. Heat rushed to Judy’s cheeks, but she held her ground, heart hammering as Valerie’s grip tightened, her smirk softening.

“Oh,” the blue-haired woman murmured, her voice dipping lower, teasing, promising. “Now I’m really looking forward to it.”

As they approached the counter, the vibrant array of ice cream flavors seemed to beckon them. Swirls of deep purples, rich caramels, and soft pastels shimmered under the bright lights, each promising something indulgent, something worth savoring. Judy eyed the selection, her gaze flitting over each label before turning to Valerie with a playful smirk.

"So, what’s your poison?" she asked, leaning in, her fingers still laced with Valerie’s.

The blue-haired woman tilted her head slightly, considering the options, before offering a casual shrug. "Vanilla, usually."

Judy barely suppressed a snort. "Vanilla? Seriously, Val? That’s the most basic choice you could possibly make."

Valerie rolled her eyes, but the corners of her lips twitched upward. "It’s a classic for a reason," she defended, lifting her chin slightly. "Sometimes, simplicity is perfection."

Judy shook her head, amusement dancing in her eyes. Without missing a beat, she turned to the server and switched to Spanish, her voice smooth, effortless. "Una bola de coco para mí, y dragón para ella, por favor."

The server nodded and set to work, scooping out a pale, creamy ball of coconut for Judy and a striking pink-and-white swirl of dragon fruit for Valerie. When Judy handed over the cup to the other woman, their fingers brushed - just for a second, a fleeting, almost accidental touch. But it was enough. Valerie’s gaze flickered up, and Judy felt it like a slow burn, a warmth that curled in her stomach, lingered at the edges of her breath.

They wove through the parlor, finding a quiet booth tucked away in the corner. The hum of conversation around them blurred into background noise, the soft clinking of spoons against bowls filling the space between their words. Sliding into the seat, their knees brushed under the table, a simple, unspoken closeness that neither of them pulled away from.

Judy dug into her coconut ice cream, sighing as the first bite melted on her tongue, sweet and rich with a perfect hint of tropical freshness. She pointed her spoon at Valerie’s vibrant pink scoop with a knowing grin. "Now this—this is a flavor with some personality."

Valerie arched a brow, scooping up a tentative bite of her own. The moment the tart sweetness hit her tongue, she let out a low hum of approval, nodding. "Alright, I’ll admit it. It’s good. But don’t knock vanilla till you’ve actually given it a chance."

Judy let out a dramatic sigh. "Maybe next time I’ll take a walk on the wild side and order vanilla."

Valerie laughed, the sound low and warm, curling around Judy like something tangible. It was ridiculous how much she liked that sound, how it tugged at something deep in her chest.

On impulse, she scooped up another bite of her own and held out her spoon, the creamy coconut offering balanced just so. "Here. Try this. It'll change your life."

Valerie leaned in, her lips wrapping around the spoon without hesitation. Judy tried not to think too hard about it. About how close they were. About the way the blue-haired woman’s eyes flickered with something unreadable as she pulled back, licking her lips thoughtfully.

"Mmm, okay," Val conceded, sitting back with an exaggerated nod of approval. "That’s pretty good. But I still like mine better."

Judy smirked, shaking her head. "Told ya you’d love it."

Judy finished her coconut ice cream with a slow, contented sigh, setting her spoon down with the quiet satisfaction of someone indulging in something simple yet perfect. Her gaze flickered toward Valerie, who was still finishing the last spoonfuls of her dragon fruit treat, her movements unhurried, almost lazy. The soft lighting cast a glow over her features, accentuating the sharpness of her cheekbones, the playful arch of her brow, the way her lips - painted with a smudge of pink - curved slightly as she enjoyed her dessert.

Judy’s focus caught on that smudge, the small trace of melted ice cream lingering at the corner of Valerie’s mouth. A tiny, fleeting thing, yet something about it snared her attention, held her captive. Maybe it was the innocence of it, the contrast against the sharp edge of Valerie’s usual smirks and knowing glances. Maybe it was the way Judy’s stomach gave the smallest flutter, an impulsive urge stirring in her chest before she had time to talk herself out of it.

She leaned in. It wasn’t hurried, wasn’t rushed - just a slow, deliberate movement, her intent clear in the way her eyes never left Valerie’s lips. The space between them closed, and then Judy kissed her, catching her lips in a gentle, lingering press.

She felt Valerie still against her for half a second, surprised, before the tension melted from her shoulders, before she softened into the kiss, responding in kind. It was sweet at first - just a ghost of pressure, a taste of coconut and dragon fruit shared between them - but then it deepened, became something more. The careful restraint unraveled, and Judy lost herself in the warmth of it, the way Valerie’s lips moved with an urgency that sent sparks down her spine.

By the time they parted, their breaths mingling in the small space between them, Judy’s lips tingled, her pulse thrumming in her ears. A quiet moment stretched between them, unspoken words lingering on their tongues, but instead of addressing them, she simply smiled - a slow, knowing curve of her lips.

"You had something on your lips," she whispered, her voice teasing.

Valerie’s gaze held hers, there was something bright and unreadable in those gray eyes before she let out a quiet, breathy chuckle. Her thumb ghosted over her lips as if tasting the sensation. "I’m glad you took care of it," she shot back, her voice dipping low.

The moment stretched, charged with something fragile and electric all at once. Neither of them moved, neither of them spoke. But as the last of their ice cream melted in their cups, the air between them shifted again. The tension that had been lingering - unspoken, undeniable - came creeping back, urging them forward a conversation that had been avoided for too long.

Judy hesitated, searching the blue-haired woman’s face, and as if caught in the same current, Val turned to meet her gaze at the same time. They both opened their mouths—

"I think we should—"

"Maybe we can—"

They stumbled over each other’s words, the collision breaking the moment awkwardly. Judy let out a quiet, breathless laugh, her cheeks warming as she glanced down, suddenly self-conscious. Valerie mirrored her, lips quirking into a lopsided smile, her fingers fidgeting absently against the table’s edge.

"Sorry," Judy muttered, rubbing the back of her neck before daring to look up again. Her voice was quieter now, more hesitant. "You go first."

Valerie exhaled slowly, like she was steadying herself. When she finally looked up to meet Judy’s eyes, her expression softened, resolve settling over her features. "Alright," she began, her voice taking on a more serious tone, though the faint sparkle of humor still glimmered in her gaze. "But I have to warn you, Jude—it might get a little cheesy."

Judy nodded, leaning in slightly as if to brace herself for whatever was about to come. "I think I can handle it," she replied, her smile small, but her voice steady.

Valerie’s fingers brushed against the tabletop, her hand sliding over the surface until it found Judy’s. The gesture was simple, yet the weight of it settled between them like an unspoken promise. There was a tenderness in the way their fingers intertwined, a quiet reassurance that spoke louder than words ever could. Valerie paused, her gaze lingering on their joined hands as if searching for the right way to continue.

Her voice broke the silence, quiet and uncertain at first, but it steadied as she spoke. “What I’m trying to say is...” She hesitated, as though the words were both too big and too fragile to speak aloud. “I think we’ve been dancing around something real here. And we both know it’s not just... a fling. It’s not. It never was. Today... today was everything. Just fuckin’ amazing. And I want more days like that. More days like that with you.”

Judy’s heart leaped at the sincerity in Val’s words, a warmth spreading through her chest. There was no denying the shift in the air between them, a deepening that couldn’t be ignored. Her fingers tightened around Valerie’s, the motion instinctual, a small smile tugging at her lips despite the playful tone she tried to maintain. “Ugh,” she said, feigning irritation. “I hope that’s the end of the cheesy part.”

Valerie’s smile softened, her eyes filled with a warmth that made Judy’s teasing feel like a gentle caress. “Afraid not,” she replied, the mischievous glint in her eyes revealing the affection she wasn’t hiding. “There’s more where that came from, unfortunately.”

With a subtle shift, the blue-haired woman pulled her sleeve back just far enough to reveal a faint red mark on her wrist. Judy’s gaze followed the gesture, surprise flickering across her face as she studied the mark. Judy was quiet for a moment, not sure what to make of it, but Valerie’s voice broke the silence, soft but earnest.

“I’ve been pinchin’ myself all day, just to make sure this isn’t a dream,” Val confessed, her tone uncharacteristically vulnerable. “I’m scared, Jude. I’m scared of messing this up, of screwing up what we have. Because I never wanted anything more in my life… There’s something I need to say, something I’ve been holding onto for a while. I know it sounds crazy—we’ve only known each other a few months, and most of it was spent over texts—but I can’t keep it inside anymore. And I don’t want you to say it back—not yet.”

The words hung in the air, unspoken but heavy. Judy’s breath caught in her chest, her heart beating faster. “Val…” she whispered, her voice barely more than a breath, unsure of whether she should be bracing herself or sinking into the moment.

She knew what was coming - the three words they both danced around, the three words neither of them could quite bring themselves to say the whole day. Judy’s chest tightened, a mix of hope and fear swirling within her. She didn’t know if she was ready to hear them, didn’t know if she was ready to say them back, but the desire to hear it from Valerie was undeniable.

But before she could voice her own tangled thoughts, Valerie spoke again, the urgency in her voice sharp, intense. “There’s still a lot you don’t know about me, parts of my life that... I haven’t shared. We’ll get there, in time, but right now, it doesn’t feel fair for you to say it out loud—make it real—when you don’t fully understand everything that’s happened, everything I am.”

“I know enough, Val,” Judy protested softly, her voice firm, but the blue-haired woman shook her head gently, her gray eyes filled with a quiet resolve.

“No, Jude,” Valerie’s voice was low, pleading, desperate. “I need you to know everything before you say it. I want to be the person you saw today, the one you deserve. But inside... I still feel like this thing, this monster with blades and a chip in my head. I’m fighting it. I’m fighting it for you. I want to make you happy, to show you how much you mean to me. I want to spend lazy days with you, to be beside you, to play soccer with you, to see you smile like you did today. But I need to get myself sorted out first. Because I can’t... I can’t let you love me until I’m whole. Because that’s what I wanted to say… I love you. And I’m terrible with feelings, but I’m sure of this one. I love you, Jude.”

The weight of her words was like a tidal wave crashing over Judy, leaving her breathless. She wanted to respond, to say it back, but the words were stuck, trapped in her chest. Valerie didn’t wait. Before Judy could find her voice again, warm lips were on hers, soft yet firm, gentle yet insistent. It was a kiss that answered everything, that sealed the unspoken promises they’d made over the past few hours. Judy’s body melted into it, into Valerie’s warmth, her touch, unable to fight against the flood of emotions that surged within her. She wanted to push back, to break away and voice the feelings she had kept bottled up for so long, but the kiss silenced her, softened her, drew her deeper into the moment.

When they finally drew back, it was as if the world around them had momentarily stilled. Their foreheads remained pressed together, a gentle, unspoken bond holding them in place. Neither wanted to move away just yet. Valerie’s eyes searched hers, hesitant but hopeful, asking without words if this was okay, if she had overstepped, crossed a line. Judy’s response was a soft smile, a small nod, her heart full with the certainty she’d been waiting for.

Valerie let out a breath, a little lighter, and a slow grin spread across her lips. The tension in her body eased. “We should probably get going,” she said after a minute, her voice quieter, almost regretful. “If we don’t, we’re gonna be late for dinner.”

Judy’s smile widened, a playful glint in her eyes as she teased, “Yeah, Rogue would kill us.”

Valerie chuckled softly, pulling back just enough to break the delicate contact of their foreheads. She still held Judy’s hand as they slid out of the booth.

They moved swiftly through the grand expanse of the hotel lobby, their steps quick and purposeful, each stride an attempt to make up for lost time. The cool marble beneath their shoes, the ambient hum of conversation, and the golden glow of the chandeliers all seemed to blur together, background noise against the lingering thrill of the past few hours.

Their return had been a whirlwind - rushing through the streets, hands clasped tight, smiles glued to their faces. They’d barely had a moment to stop and sit down, let alone prepare properly for the team dinner that awaited them. The frantic dash to change clothes in their hotel room had been just as chaotic, filled with more laughter than efficiency. Between search for misplaced accessories and half-buttoned garments, there had been teasing fingers, lips brushing against bare shoulders, whispered protests lost between breathless kisses. They had let time slip away too easily, too willingly, wrapped up in each other, until reality had forced them apart. Now, with their teammates waiting, they hurried forward, the remnants of that stolen time still clinging to them like the ghost of a warm embrace.

The moment they stepped into the lobby, a dozen pairs of eyes locked onto them. The team was already gathered, dressed in sharp suits and sleek dresses, their polished appearances a stark contrast to the slightly disheveled elegance Judy and Valerie now carried. The air in the room shifted - amusement mingling with curiosity, subtle smirks playing on familiar faces, someone letting out a low whistle.

Judy fought the urge to laugh, biting the inside of her cheek to suppress the grin threatening to break free. Her heart was still racing, the adrenaline of the day refusing to settle. She tugged at the hem of her black dress, the smooth fabric cool against her skin, clinging just right to her form. Her hair was a mess, still slightly damp from the rushed shower, barely tamed. At least she’d managed a bold swipe of dark lipstick and a precise winged liner - small victories in the chaos.

Beside her, Valerie was effortlessly composed, as if the scramble to get ready had never happened. The deep navy of her suit contrasted perfectly against her light skin, the open collar of her shirt lending an air of deliberate ease, though Judy knew better. She knew about the rushed knot of the tie that had been discarded at the last second, the buttons she had helped fasten with fingers that had lingered too long. But none of that showed now. Now, Valerie carried herself with the kind of unshaken confidence that made heads turn without trying.

They moved toward the biggest group, the weight of expectant gazes following them. Judy could hear the barely contained chuckles, the silent questions forming behind knowing smirks.

“Finally decided to join us?” Roxanne’s voice cut through the air, thick with amusement. She leaned against one of the lobby’s grand pillars, arms crossed, her smile teasing. “We’ve missed you today.”

Valerie shot back a grin, her gray eyes gleaming with blend of mischief and affection. “We thought we’d make a grand entrance.”

Judy rolled her eyes, exhaling a laugh, but she couldn’t suppress the smile tugging at her lips. “Fashionably late, right?” she quipped, her voice light, betraying the pulse of excitement still thrumming beneath her skin.

“Actually,” Panam interjected, nodding toward the massive windows, “you’re right on time. Our ride just pulled up.”

As if on cue, headlights flickered against the glass, and the low rumble of an engine settled outside the entrance.

Before anyone could comment further, the sharp click of boots against marble signaled Regina’s arrival. She strode into the lobby with the commanding presence of someone who had no patience for drawn-out reunions. Her sharp gaze swept over the group, assessing, before landing on Judy and Valerie with little more than a raised brow.

“Alright, ladies,” she said, her voice edged with dry amusement, but mostly impatience. “Let’s get moving. I’m starving.”

Without another word, she turned on her heel, leading the way toward the waiting bus. Judy exhaled, exchanging a glance with Valerie. For a moment, she almost wanted to laugh - at the rush, the teasing, the way Val still looked at her like she was the only thing in the room that mattered. But instead, she just smiled, shaking her head as she let Valerie’s fingers brush against hers in a fleeting, secret touch.

“Guess we’d better not keep her waiting,” Val murmured, the corner of her lips quirking up in that way that made Judy’s breath catch, just for a second.

The team spilled out of the hotel in a cascade of laughter and chatter, their voices rising into the cool night air as they made their way toward the waiting bus. The vehicle was a familiar sight, sleek and imposing, its dark-tinted windows concealing the world within, while the bold NUSWNT logo on the side gleamed under the streetlights.

As the team clambered aboard, the usual scramble for preferred seats began - playful jostling, inside jokes traded across the aisle, a rhythm as familiar as pre-game drills. Judy barely had time to take it all in before she caught movement ahead - Valerie, cutting a direct path toward the back of the bus, her stride unhurried but deliberate. Judy didn’t hesitate. She followed, pulse quickening with every step down the narrow aisle, the din of their teammates fading into background noise.

When they reached the last few rows, Valerie paused, her fingers brushing against Judy’s before curling around her wrist with a gentle, insistent tug. The touch was fleeting, almost imperceptible, but it was enough - enough to make Judy sink into the seat without a second thought. Valerie settled in with a contented sigh, stretching one arm along the back of the seat. There was always a purpose to Valerie’s touch, even in the smallest gestures. This wasn’t just casual – it was a gesture that screamed about possession.

Their shoulders touched, the warmth of Valerie’s body bleeding into her own, and Judy let herself lean into it, just slightly. She turned her head, met Val’s gaze, and nearly lost herself in the depth of those gray eyes. That knowing smirk lingered, teasing and unreadable, and for a fleeting second, Judy thought about closing the distance, about kissing it right off her lips. But she held back. Not here. Even if most of their teammates probably already had them figured out, it wasn’t something she was willing to lay bare in a setting like this. Instead, she let their knees press together, let the quiet touch say everything she couldn’t in this moment. A promise of more to come when they were finally alone again.

A slow, lazy voice interrupted them before either could say a word.

“Well, well, well,” Rita drawled from the other side of the aisle, sprawled out across the seats like she owned the place, her legs stretched out, one arm draped over the backrest. Her dark eyes sparkled with mischief as she regarded them. “Look who finally decided to grace us with their presence. Thought for a second you two might skip the dinner and head straight for dessert.”

Judy rolled her eyes, though the corner of her mouth betrayed her with a twitch of amusement. “You’re one to talk, Reet. Heard you already got that hot receptionist’s number. Should we be expecting a sudden disappearance later tonight?”

Rita grinned, completely unbothered. She stretched, then shrugged with an air of exaggerated nonchalance. “Can’t confirm or deny.” She shifted, sprawling out even further as she smirked. “But I’m not the one running around like a lovesick teenager.”

Judy felt heat creep up her neck, but before she could even form a retort, Valerie chuckled beside her, entirely unphased. Her hand slid down, resting on Judy’s knee - a touch so effortless it could have been mistaken for nothing. But it wasn’t nothing. Not to Judy. Not to Rita either, whose grin softened into something less teasing, more understanding.

“Just make sure you save some energy for the tournament, dolls,” the purple-haired defender said, shooting them a look that was half amusement, half approval. Then, as if to spare them further torment, she turned her gaze toward the window, leaving them to their own quiet world.

Chapter Text

Chapter XI | Skin and Bones
Wrap me in your skin and bones. Oh, I'm gonna lose control as you pull me close.

The team gathered around a long, sleek table, its surface gleaming like polished onyx beneath the soft, flickering light of the candles. The restaurant exuded effortless opulence, an atmosphere of hushed indulgence that settled over them like velvet. Floor-to-ceiling windows stretched along one side of the room, offering an unbroken view of the city sprawled beneath them.

Judy sat near the end, the vast urban sprawl unfurling before her like a living mural. She let her gaze wander over it. Beside her, Valerie reclined with the kind of ease that made it seem like the world bent to accommodate her. The soft, ambient glow caught the edges of her sharp features - those storm-gray eyes flickering between the skyline and the woman at her side.

The hum of conversation swelled around them, the easy cadence of shared familiarity punctuated by bursts of laughter and the chime of clinking glasses. Across the table, Rita had taken center stage, her voice animated as she spun some half-believable story, gesturing wildly, her laughter rich enough to draw the others in like moths to a flame. The energy was light, effortless.

In the midst of this lively scene, Judy suddenly felt a gentle but deliberate pressure against her knee. Her breath hitched, though she masked it well, keeping her expression neutral as she darted a glance around the table. No one seemed to notice. Their teammates remained absorbed in Rita’s theatrics. Yet beneath the table, unseen to the world, Valerie’s fingers pressed again - soft, teasing, tracing slow, idle circles against the bare skin of Judy’s thigh.

The touch was featherlight, deceptively innocent, but it set off a chain reaction beneath Judy’s skin, a slow-burning heat pooling low in her belly. She swallowed hard, pulse stammering as she turned slightly, just enough to catch a glimpse of Valerie’s face. Nothing. Not a single sign of mischief, no telltale smirk betraying her actions. Valerie remained the picture of composed elegance, her attention seemingly fixed on Rita’s story. But her fingers told a different story, creeping higher, the warmth of her palm a slow-moving brand against Judy’s skin.

Judy tensed, torn between anticipation and restraint. Her breathing came quicker, her pulse an erratic beat in her ears as Valerie’s fingers traced lazy patterns along her inner thigh, nudging the hem of her dress incrementally higher with each stroke. The bastard was doing it on purpose - pushing her, testing how far she’d let this go.

She shifted in her seat, crossing one leg over the other in an attempt to dissuade the wandering hand, but Valerie was relentless. The momentary movement only gave her an opening, and before Judy could stop her, warm fingers slipped beneath the fabric, gliding against the sensitive skin where her thighs met. Judy clenched her jaw, forcing down a sound that threatened to slip free. Valerie, still the epitome of calm, lifted her glass to her lips, taking a slow sip of soda as if she wasn’t currently driving Judy insane beneath the table. The contrast was maddening.

The final straw came when Valerie’s digits traced the edge of her underwear, teasing the elastic band before slipping just beneath it. Judy jerked slightly, a sharp inhale betraying her, and she barely caught herself before she could let out something embarrassing. She gritted her teeth, forcing her voice into a low whisper as she leaned toward Valerie.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

Valerie’s lips twitched, a smile barely restrained as she tilted her head, feigning innocence. “What does it look like?” she murmured, voice soft, teasing. “Just making sure you’re enjoying yourself. Would you like me to stop?”

Judy closed her eyes for a brief second, gathering whatever remained of her composure. She should have told her to stop. Should have pushed her hand away, ended the game before it got out of control. But when Valerie’s fingers moved again, tracing a delicate path over the slick heat waiting for her, Judy exhaled something dangerously close to a whimper.

Valerie stilled, just for a moment, scanning their surroundings. Their teammates were still engrossed in conversation, but one wrong move, one sound too loud, and they’d be caught. The thrill of it sent another pulse of heat spiraling through Judy.

She knew this was reckless. Knew it was dangerous. But instead of pulling away, she parted her legs just slightly, offering Valerie more access. A soft hum of approval rumbled from Val’s throat, masked by the clatter of silverware against porcelain. Her fingers moved with more intent now, shifting aside the last barrier between them, gliding through the warmth that had gathered there. Judy’s fingers clenched into the fabric of her dress, her body screaming for more even as she struggled to remain still.

“Fuck,” she mouthed silently, biting her lower lip as Valerie’s fingers found her clit, teasing the bundle of nerves with slow, deliberate circles. The tension coiled inside her, tighter and tighter, an unbearable pressure waiting to snap. She gripped the edge of the table, knuckles white, every muscle in her body wound taut as a bowstring. The boundary between public and private blurred into a thrilling haze as she surrendered to the ecstasy that threatened to consume her completely.

The blue-haired woman leaned in, breath warm against the shell of Judy’s ear. “You look incredible in that dress,” she murmured, voice a low rasp, thick with heat. “I’d do anything to rip it off. I need you right fuckin’ now.”

Judy’s eyes fluttered shut for a moment, fingers clenching into fists beneath the table, pulse thrumming beneath her skin as she fought for control. She barely managed to choke out a reply, her voice thin, breathless. “Be patient.”

A cruel request, considering her own restraint was hanging by a thread.

The evidence of her unraveling was undeniable - the damp heat between her thighs, the way her body had betrayed her so easily, responding to Valerie’s touch with humiliating eagerness. She had to get out of here before she completely lost herself, before she melted under the ministrations of those skilled fingers. With a quiet exhale, Judy adjusted her dress under the table and pushed back her chair, mumbling something about fresh air - an excuse as flimsy as the control she was desperately clinging to.

Her legs were unsteady as she crossed the restaurant floor, heat thrumming through her with every step. She didn’t need to look back to know Valerie was watching her. She felt the weight of those sharp gray eyes tracking her every movement. Waiting.

The moment she stepped into the bathroom, she braced herself against the sink, gripping the cool porcelain like an anchor. Her reflection in the mirror was almost unrecognizable - flushed cheeks, lips parted as she pulled in shallow breaths, pupils blown wide with want, her chest rising and falling in rapid succession. She looked wrecked already, and Valerie had barely touched her.

Judy shut her eyes, allowing the wave of heat, desire, and barely-contained impatience to wash over her. This. This was what she had wanted, what she had imagined in stolen moments of weakness - Valerie touching her, teasing her, coaxing her to the very edge. She had dreamed of this, but no fantasy could have prepared her for the reality of it. For the way Valerie unraveled her without even trying. And - of all possible places - she did it in front of their teammates.

Now, with Valerie’s whispers still echoing in her ears, the impending reality of their shared night was almost unbearable. Her pulse quickened at the thought of Valerie’s hands on her again, of losing herself completely in the blue-haired woman’s warmth.

Her pulse hammered against her ribs as she swallowed hard, fingers trembling slightly as she smoothed down the fabric of her dress. A poor attempt at composure. The woman staring back at her in the mirror was not composed - she was a portrait of want and anticipation, of a hunger that could no longer be ignored.

With one final breath and resolute nod to her reflection, Judy straightened, set her jaw, and turned toward the door. The night was far from over.

The elevator doors slid shut with a soft chime, enclosing Judy, Valerie, and Rita in a space too small for the silence pressing between them. The mirrored walls reflected their tension back at them, amplifying it, stretching it thin like a wire poised to snap. Judy kept her gaze fixed on the glowing floor numbers above, her pulse thrumming in her ears. Each passing second brought them closer to their hotel room, closer to something that felt inevitable.

Rita stood slightly ahead, her weight shifted onto one hip, arms crossed in a way that seemed entirely too knowing. A slow, amused smile toyed at the edges of her lips, as if she could hear the unspoken words crackling in the air between Judy and Valerie. The space was humming, buzzing, heavy with something electric, something reckless. One wrong word could set it all off, but none of them spoke. The silence only thickened, charged with anticipation, with heat.

At last, the elevator eased to a stop. The doors slid open with a soft exhale, revealing the corridor beyond. Rita stepped out first but lingered just before the threshold, one boot planted in the hallway, the other still inside, keeping the door from closing. She glanced over her shoulder, catching Judy’s eye, and winked. Her smile stretched wider, and then - just before the doors could shut her out - she let out a quiet chuckle, low and knowing, like she had figured something out before either of them had.

Then she was gone, and Judy and Valerie were alone. Finally.

Judy exhaled, only now realizing she’d been holding her breath. Slowly, she turned to Valerie, her pulse kicking up a notch when she noticed the blue-haired woman was already watching her - gray eyes dark, glinting under the dim elevator lights. The weight of that gaze sent a shiver through Judy’s spine, but she steadied herself, steeled herself against the way her own body betrayed her so easily in Valerie’s presence.

“What you did back there at the restaurant,” Judy murmured, voice low, roughened by the effort to keep herself composed, “was reckless and stupid.” A pause. A shift. A flicker of something warmer in her gaze. “And unbelievably hot.”

Valerie’s lips curved into her signature smirk. There was amusement in her expression, something playful, something cocky. But whatever response Valerie had been about to give was swallowed whole when Judy closed the space between them, crushed their mouths together in a kiss that was anything but restrained.

The world outside the elevator blurred, faded, ceased to exist. The only thing that mattered was the press of Valerie’s lips against hers - hot, insistent, a fierce collision of need that had been smoldering too long. Judy’s hands tangled in Valerie’s jacket, pulling her closer, needing her closer. Valerie answered in kind, her hands sliding lower, fingers curling just above Judy’s thighs before she moved - swift, effortless, like it was the easiest thing in the world to lift Judy into her arms.

Judy barely had time to gasp before her back hit the elevator wall. Valerie’s grip was firm, steady, holding her up like she weighed nothing. The soft hum of the elevator faded beneath the sharp, uneven breaths between them. Valerie’s lips left hers only to trail lower, down the curve of her jaw, to the pulse hammering in her throat. She kissed her there, then journeyed lower, her breath scalding against Judy’s skin. Judy tilted her head back instinctively, a sharp inhale slipping from her lips as Val’s mouth found the delicate spot just beneath her ear.

God, she was losing herself in this.

Then, just as she felt herself start to slip, her control unraveling beneath Valerie’s mouth, Judy forced herself to move. She pressed a hand to Val’s shoulder, a gentle push, her fingers flexing against the fabric of her jacket. “Val…” she breathed, her voice uneven, a breathless plea wrapped in a ribbon of restraint. “Wait. P-put me down… Not here.”

Valerie stilled, her grip tightening for just a second before she pulled back enough to meet Judy’s gaze. Her breathing was ragged, her pupils blown wide, but beneath the heat simmered understanding. A moment passed, and then she nodded, her hold loosening as she carefully set Judy back on her feet.

The tension between them didn’t dissipate - it only grew heavier, thicker, a promise hanging between them like a held breath. Without another word, they moved. Out of the elevator, down the hall, their steps hurried, purposeful, barely restrained. The distance between them and their hotel room stretched long, too long, every second unbearable. But when they reached the door at last, when Valerie fished out the keycard with slightly unsteady fingers - Judy knew neither of them would waste another second.

She barely registered the sound of the door clicking shut before a jolt of adrenaline surged through her, igniting her nerves like a live wire. The memory of Valerie’s touch at the restaurant still lingered on her skin, phantom traces of fingers grazing over her inner thigh, a reminder of the tension they had been holding between them all night. And the kiss in the elevator - hot, urgent, all-consuming - still burned on her lips, a taste she wasn’t ready to let go of. It was as if a fuse had been lit, slow at first, smoldering beneath the surface, but now the flame was roaring, impossible to extinguish.

Before she could think, before she could talk herself out of it, she grabbed Valerie and spun her around, pressing her back against the closed door with a force that surprised even herself. Valerie let out a soft gasp, startled, her eyes going wide for a brief moment before a slow, knowing smirk curled at the edge of her lips. That look - half surprise, half challenge - only fueled the fire raging inside Judy.

She didn’t hesitate. Her hands found Valerie’s wrists, catching them and pinning them high above her head against the wood. She felt the strength in those arms, the restrained power humming beneath smooth skin, and she knew - if Valerie wanted to, she could break free in an instant. But she didn’t. She allowed it, let Judy take control, let herself be held. That willing surrender sent a sharp thrill down Judy’s spine, made her pulse thunder in her ears.

For a moment, the air between them thickened with silent tension, a battle of wills fought in locked gazes and bated breaths. Valerie’s chest rose and fell in slow, measured inhales, her lips parted just slightly, waiting, daring Judy to make the next move.

And she did.

She leaned in, her breath warm against the soft skin of Valerie’s throat before her mouth found its target with a hunger that bordered on desperate. She kissed her like she was staking a claim, like she was starved. Her lips trailing the delicate curve of Val’s neck before her tongue flicked out, tasting, teasing. Valerie’s scent - something faintly smoky, something uniquely hers - wrapped around Judy like a haze, and she drank it in, her heart pounding in time with the pulse she could feel beneath her lips.

Valerie let out a quiet exhale, a soft, barely-there sound that sent heat curling low in Judy’s belly. Encouraged, she bit down, harder than she meant to, enough to leave a mark, enough to brand the blue-haired woman. Valerie shuddered against her, a sharp inhale breaking the stillness, and the noise that followed - a breathless moan, so soft, so unguarded - nearly undid Judy entirely. She pressed closer, her body molding against Valerie’s as she reveled in the way the other woman responded. The arch of her spine, the slight tilt of her head, the way her lips parted on a silent plea - it was intoxicating.

A strange current hummed through Judy’s body, electric and unsettling. She’d seized control, she’d pushed them into this, driven them toward this collision. Valerie held the real power, but she had chosen to surrender it to her. She wasn’t resisting, wasn’t fighting her for control. She was giving in, melting into her touch, letting Judy take what she wanted.

Normally, seduction was a game Judy played with calculated precision. She thrived on the spark of need she saw in others, their helpless ache, their vulnerability, their willingness to be laid bare and utterly at her mercy. She was the one who dictated the pace, set the limits, controlled the inevitable outcome. Power was her weapon, her shield. It was what kept her safe, what kept anyone from looking too close, from seeing the fractures beneath the surface. It was a role she played flawlessly, a practiced rhythm honed through years of survival. Keeping the upper hand meant never showing her true self, never exposing the fragile, broken thing she guarded behind seductive smiles and teasing words. It meant knowing when to pull harder, when to bite down, when to let the world think she was invincible. It kept her steady, composed, untouchable - a carefully constructed illusion shielding the hollow shell she’d long since accepted as reality.

But with Valerie... it wasn’t like that.

The need to dominate, to command, to keep herself one step ahead - it faded the moment she saw the way Valerie looked at her. Not just with hunger, not just with want, but with something deeper, something that made Judy’s breath catch in her throat. She knew that feeling. She knew it because she had spent years trying to bury it, to pretend she didn’t crave it.

Trust. It was there, raw and unspoken, in the way Valerie let herself be held. In the way she surrendered - not out of weakness, but because she chose to. Judy wasn’t just taking - Valerie was offering.

And that terrified her. Because for the first time in longer than she could remember, Judy didn’t just want to take. She wanted to give. She wanted to lose herself in the warmth of the blue-haired woman, to follow Val’s lead and lower her own defenses. To allow herself to be vulnerable. To offer something genuine, something soft and real, untarnished by games or need for domination.

Judy loosened her grip, her fingers slipping from Valerie’s wrists as the tension in her muscles melted away. Instead, she reached up, cupping Valerie’s face in her hands, the gesture softer than she intended, almost hesitant. She pulled her closer, until their foreheads brushed, until the heat of their breath mingled in the space between them. Their lips hovered, so close, barely a whisper apart, but Judy didn’t close the distance - not yet. Instead, she searched Valerie’s eyes, needing to see, needing to know if this was real. And what she found there - dark, smoldering, aching, unspoken longing - made her feel like the ground beneath her had just disappeared.

This was real. This was happening. And there was no going back.

Judy swallowed hard, something fragile catching in her chest, a feeling too big, too real, too dangerous. Valerie wasn’t a conquest, wasn’t a quick fix, wasn’t a fleeting distraction meant to burn out loneliness with meaningless sex. She was something more. A chance - one so rare, so unexpected, that it made Judy’s hands tremble just slightly as she held her.

She wasn’t sure she was ready. Wasn’t sure she could handle the weight of what this meant. But as Valerie tilted her head ever so slightly, her lips grazing against Judy’s in the lightest, most tentative of touches - a silent question woven into the gesture - Judy realized she already had the answer. There was no hesitation as she surrendered to the quiet inevitability of it all. She let herself fall without a second thought.

"I want you," Judy murmured, her breath mingling with Valerie’s as their lips brushed together in a kiss so fleeting, so delicate, it felt like the whisper of an oath. "But I don’t want this to be rushed... I need you, Val. More than anything. But I want this to be special."

Valerie’s response was immediate - a sound, low and involuntary, spilling from deep within her, a quiet moan that sent a shiver down Judy’s spine. It wasn’t just arousal, it was something more, something raw and unguarded. For a moment, Valerie hesitated, as if weighing the depth of Judy’s confession, letting the weight of those words settle between them. Then she nodded, a small, almost imperceptible motion, but it spoke volumes. She closed the last bit of distance, her lips capturing Judy’s in a slow, reverent kiss, as if sealing the silent pact. She understood, completely and instinctively, what Judy wanted.

Judy took a few measured steps back, her gaze locked intently on Valerie’s, a silent current of anticipation sparking between them. She reached behind her neck, fingers finding the zipper of her dress. The soft hum of metal sliding down filled the quiet room, a sound laced with promise. Valerie stood utterly still, her back pressed against the door, watching - devouring - each movement as if afraid to blink and miss a second of it.

Moonlight spilled in through the window, painting Judy’s skin in silver, turning every curve and hollow into something ethereal. As the dress slipped from her shoulders, it cascaded down her body in a slow, fluid motion, pooling at her feet like liquid silk. She stepped out of it with a grace that was both effortless and deliberate, letting Valerie take in the sight of her - bare, vulnerable, yet unafraid.

Judy tilted her head slightly, a teasing smile ghosting over her lips, her gaze burning with challenge and desire. "Your turn," she murmured, her voice a velvet-soft command that hung between them, waiting to be obeyed.

Valerie’s lips curled into a smirk, there was pure, raw lust in her gaze. Without breaking eye contact, she shrugged off her jacket in one smooth motion, tossing it aside carelessly. Her fingers moved to the buttons of her shirt, unhurried, as if savoring the charged atmosphere between them. One by one, the buttons gave way, revealing glimpses of skin beneath, until the fabric slipped from her shoulders and joined the growing pile on the floor.

Judy’s breath caught as Valerie stepped closer. Her hands hovered at her belt, but before she could undo it, Judy closed the gap, brushing her fingers over Valerie’s knuckles, silently asking to take over. She let her. Judy worked the belt free, letting it drop to the floor with a soft thud. Then, with the same aching slowness and tenderness that contrasted the earlier urgency, she unfastened the button of Valerie’s pants, her fingertips lingering as she slid them down over her hips. As she knelt, she pressed a trail of tender kisses along Valerie’s thighs, her lips mapping the warm skin in a quiet act of worship.

When the fabric pooled at Valerie’s feet, Judy rose, her lips curving into a soft, almost shy smile. She wrapped her arms around Valerie’s neck, pulling her in, their bodies meeting in a slow, deliberate press. Skin against skin, warmth against warmth. Valerie melted into her, strong arms circling Judy’s waist, her face burying into the crook of her neck as if she could breathe her in. They stayed like that for a moment, holding onto something fragile yet unbreakable, letting the weight of it settle. The world outside ceased to exist. There was no past, no future. Just this - this moment, suspended between them, waiting to be unraveled.

Judy led Valerie backward with a touch both gentle and insistent, guiding her toward the edge of the bed. There was purpose in the way she moved, a quiet certainty in her hands as they skimmed along Valerie’s sides, a silent promise in the way her fingers curled around her wrists for just a moment before releasing. With fluid ease, she settled herself onto Valerie’s lap, her thighs bracketing her hips, the warmth of their bodies fusing in a way that sent a shiver up Judy’s spine.

She could feel the steady, eager rhythm of Valerie’s heart against her own, the beat thrumming between them, setting the pace for the slow burn unraveling in the space they shared. Their closeness was intoxicating, electric yet unhurried, as if neither of them wanted to rush this moment, as if they both wanted to savor every breath, every touch, every quiet sigh. Judy leaned in, her lips finding Valerie’s in a kiss that was soft but searching, tasting of longing, of reverence, of something far deeper than just desire.

As her hands moved, Judy traced the shape of Valerie’s back, fingertips mapping out the curves and dips of muscle and skin, stopping at the clasp of her bra. Her fingers fumbled slightly, but she felt the way Valerie’s breath warmed her cheek, steady and patient, waiting. Encouraging. When the clasp finally gave way with a soft, satisfying click, Judy eased the fabric aside, letting it slip from Valerie’s shoulders and fall away on the bed beside them, forgotten.

Their kiss deepened, slow but hungry, a contradiction of tenderness and intensity. Judy’s hands, now free to explore, roamed across Valerie’s newly exposed skin, following the intricate lines of tattoos that marked her body, tracing over the faint scars she found along the way. Each caress was reverent, as though she was committing Valerie to memory, as though her hands could tell her all the things she hadn’t yet found the words to say. She wasn’t just touching - she was worshiping.

She pulled away just enough to meet Val’s gaze, gray eyes dark and lidded with something unspoken, something desperate. Then, without a word, Judy leaned down, her lips brushing against the swell of Valerie’s breast before closing around a hardened peak. The first touch was tentative, a slow, teasing swirl of her tongue. But soon, her hunger deepened, and she took more of Valerie into her mouth, sucking, flicking, lavishing her with a mixture of delicate sweeps and firm, insistent strokes.

Valerie’s reaction was immediate - a sharp inhale, her fingers threading into Judy’s colorful hair, not pulling, not forcing, but guiding, urging. The soft sounds she made sent heat pooling low in Judy’s stomach, a sweet, whispered plea in every broken breath, every subtle movement of her hips. The room was filled with the sound of rustling sheets, with the quiet, desperate gasps that fell from Valerie’s lips, the low hum of pleasure in Judy’s throat as she lost herself in the sensation of tasting the blue-haired woman.

Judy lingered, savoring the intoxicating contrast of soft skin and hardened flesh, of velvet and heat, before trailing open-mouthed kisses across Valerie’s sternum. She moved with purpose, finding the neglected side, giving it the same fervent attention, letting her tongue dance over the sensitive peak in slow, deliberate motions that had Valerie trembling beneath her. The way her body responded - hips shifting, breath catching, hands tightening in Judy’s hair - sent a rush of satisfaction through her, knowing she could unravel Valerie like this, that she could turn her into something breathless and wanting. Judy wanted to give her more. To give her everything.

Without breaking contact, she pushed lightly against Valerie’s chest, urging her back, guiding her down until she was lying beneath her. Valerie let herself be moved, reclining into the mattress with a sigh that was equal parts surrender and anticipation. Judy followed, never straying far, letting her lips continue their slow, burning path along the curve of Valerie’s chest and collarbone, up the graceful column of her throat, over the sharp edge of her jaw. Finally, she captured Valerie’s lips once more, kissing her deeply, drinking in every sound, every twitch, every heartbeat.

“Jude…” Valerie’s voice broke against her mouth, breathless and raw, the faintest tremor woven into the syllables. “I need you.”

Judy pulled back just enough to meet her gaze, her own breath coming fast, her pulse hammering in her ears. A small, knowing smile ghosted across her lips, her hands already moving lower, already claiming, already answering. The time for teasing had passed. She wanted to make Valerie hers. Wanted to watch the moment she came undone, to hear those breathless sounds spill from her lips and take them as her own. To feel the trembling of her body beneath her hands.

“I got you.”

With a steady touch, she slid Valerie’s panties down, peeling away the last barrier. The heat of her skin, the slickness of her arousal, sent a rush of want through Judy so sharp it nearly stole her breath. She let her fingers linger on the inside of Valerie’s thighs, tracing the warm, sensitive flesh with slow deliberation. A silent moment stretched between them - Judy’s gaze searching Valerie’s, offering her the space to pull away, to retreat if the weight of it all became too much. But Val didn’t waver. Her stormy eyes burned with deep, unspoken longing. That was all the invitation Judy needed.

Her fingers drifted lower, the flat of her palm pressing against Val’s soaked heat. The reaction was instant - a sharp inhale, the smallest tremor in her thighs. Judy started slow, rubbing in steady, teasing strokes, letting Valerie feel every bit of the anticipation before she gave her more. At first, Valerie remained still, her breath shuddering at every delicate movement, but soon, her hips moved instinctively, chasing the touch, seeking more pressure, more friction.

Judy gave it to her in maddening increments, her fingers slipping along the wetness, her touch light but deliberate. She found the delicate bundle of nerves and brushed against it, drawing a loud moan from Valerie, her body tensing at the contact. The bedsheets twisted in her grip, her knuckles white as Judy continued, the pressure still measured, still coaxing rather than overwhelming.

Judy leaned in, capturing Valerie’s lips in a deep, searing kiss, swallowing the whine that escaped her throat. She reveled in the way Valerie’s body fused into hers, how she moved with her, seeking, pleading without words.

“You’re so beautiful like this,” she whispered against her lips, her voice thick with admiration.

Valerie shuddered, her back arching as Judy increased the pressure just slightly, her fingers moving more insistently now, sliding through slick heat, circling, teasing her clit. Her arousal coated Judy’s fingers, velvet and warm, as she let them glide lower, brushing against her entrance, teasing with the promise of more.

With her free hand, she cupped Valerie’s chin gently, tilting her face just enough to meet her gaze. “Do you want me inside?” she asked, her voice a breath against the blue-haired woman’s parted lips.

Valerie let out a soft, helpless whimper, her hand moving instinctively to cover her mouth, as if to stifle the sound. But Judy wouldn’t have that. She caught Valerie’s wrist and gently moved it away, her fingers threading through hers instead. “Please,” she murmured, her lips brushing the curve of Valerie’s jaw. “I want to hear you.”

Valerie’s only response was a fevered nod, her grip tightening around Judy’s hand - a silent plea, a surrender, a consent, a need laid bare. And Judy, never one to deny her, gave her exactly what she wanted.

When she eased into her, Val inhaled sharply, the breath catching in her throat, teetering between a gasp and a moan. Judy’s gaze flickered over her, drinking in every inch of the sight before her. Valerie was undone beneath her touch, her face a portrait of flushed desire, strands of cerulean hair clinging to her damp forehead, lips parted in something between bliss and surrender. She looked otherworldly like this, fragile and exquisite all at once, and the sight sent a deep ache through Judy’s chest.

Judy moved deliberately, slow and sure, her fingers sinking deeper with each thrust. The heat of Valerie around her was intoxicating, pulling her in, consuming her. Judy savored every second, ensuring Valerie felt every inch of her, never giving too much too fast, drawing her up inch by inch. She pressed kisses along Valerie’s neck and throat, her lips mapping out the delicate skin there, murmuring silent promises against her pulse.

And then, a shift - her fingers curling inside Valerie, seeking that perfect, sensitive place, that spongy ridge of flesh that she knew would elicit the most intense pleasure. Val’s breath stuttered, the sound spilling from her lips in a high, desperate whimper. Judy felt the way her muscles clenched around her fingers, how her hips lifted instinctively, seeking more, pleading without words.

“Jude—” Valerie gasped, her voice strained, breaking apart at the edges. “Y-yes, please—”

Judy didn’t answer, not with words. Instead, her thumb pressed against Valerie’s clit, moving in tandem with her thrusts, slow at first, then more insistent as the heat coiled tighter inside her lover. Valerie’s legs trembled, her body arching, chasing the pleasure that built with a relentless intensity. The air was thick with the sounds she made - the broken whimpers, the ragged gasps, the breathless pleas that sent a shiver of satisfaction straight through Judy.

Then, the tipping point - Valerie’s body tensed, her breath catching as the last fragile thread snapped. She reached the crest of her climax with a shuddering cry, back arching violently as her orgasm crashed over her, wave after relentless wave. Judy felt it in the way she clenched around her fingers, in the helpless way she writhed, in the sharp, desperate sobs that spilled from her lips as pleasure wracked through her body. She was keenly aware of how much she needed this - of the profound fulfillment in seeing Valerie lose herself completely in pleasure, and in the act of ensuring that every fiber of her being was touched by it.

Judy kept moving, guiding her through it, prolonging the moment, watching with quiet reverence as Valerie unraveled completely beneath her. Even as the tremors subsided, as Valerie’s cries melted into soft gasps, Judy didn’t pull away. She stayed, fingers still moving in slow, lazy strokes, helping her come down, grounding her in the aftershocks.

Valerie’s eyes fluttered open, heavy-lidded and dazed, a hazy kind of wonder softening their edges. “Jude…” Her voice was hoarse, barely above a whisper.

Judy understood the plea before Valerie could speak it. With a final, careful movement, she withdrew, slipping her fingers from the warmth of her body. She moved automatically, settling beside her, wrapping the blue-haired woman in her arms, pressing her lips to her temple. The scent of sweat and sex lingered in the air, but all Judy could focus on was the way Valerie felt against her - warm, pliant, safe.

For a while, there was only the quiet, the sound of their breathing syncing in the dim-lit room. The sheets were a tangled mess beneath them, moonlight casting silver-blue streaks across sweat-slicked skin. Judy traced lazy, loving paths along Valerie’s body, each stroke a silent vow of devotion. Valerie’s breath gradually slowed, the residual quivers in her body easing as she surrendered to Judy’s touch. Her eyes, heavy with the afterglow of ecstasy, fluttered open from time to time, meeting Judy’s gaze with a blend of serene vulnerability and soft wonder.

Then, slowly, Val shifted. She turned onto her side, her lips brushing over Judy’s collarbone, the touch featherlight, almost loving. Judy exhaled, shivering as Val’s mouth traveled lower, warm kisses trailing across her chest, her stomach, pausing only to savor, to taste. Judy sighed, a soft hum of approval as Valerie took her time, her hands mapping out unfamiliar territory.

Fingers toyed at the waistband of Judy’s underwear, a silent question. Valerie lifted her gaze, and the way she looked at her - lust and tenderness intertwined - sent a pulse of desire straight through Judy’s core. She didn’t hesitate. She lifted her hips in wordless invitation. The grin that flickered across Val’s lips was knowing, almost cocky, but there was something else beneath it, something gentler. With one swift motion, Valerie peeled the fabric away, discarding it.

Judy felt the cold air ghost against her skin, a contrast to the warmth pooling between her thighs. Valerie hummed in approval, her touch skimming down, down, but never quite where Judy wanted her. Instead, she lingered - her lips brushing against the soft skin of Judy’s mound and inner thighs, her breath hot and teasing.

A frustrated groan slipped from Judy’s lips, her body caught between pleasure and agony as her hips twitched, searching for more. She reached down, fingers tangling in Valerie’s soft hair, pressing lightly at first, then tightening as impatience coiled in her belly. The blue-haired woman only chuckled, the sound vibrating against her skin.

“Patience, baby,” she murmured, her voice a teasing caress, warm breath ghosting over the delicate skin, provoking another whimper. A sharp nip followed, the brief sting of teeth against flesh, and then the slow, deliberate glide of her tongue soothing the mark. Judy shivered, breath catching, her fingers clenching harder. She could feel Valerie smiling against her, the smug, unhurried kind of smile that made her insides twist with anticipation.

But fortunately, the teasing didn’t last forever. Valerie’s fingers ghosted along the slick heat, parting Judy’s wet folds with reverent precision, her touch light yet deliberate. Judy’s body responded instantly, her breath breaking into a soft, stuttering moan as she was exposed, opened under Valerie’s gentle fingers.

And then - finally - Valerie’s lips brushed against her. Featherlight, barely there, a whisper of warmth that sent a helpless shudder rolling through her. Judy squeezed her eyes shut, lips parting, her entire body attuned to the slow, unrelenting torment of Valerie’s tongue. The blue-haired woman worked with aching patience, tracing along the swollen folds, teasing, learning, savoring every reaction. A long, languid stroke from base to tip, then another, circling, tasting, the rhythm of it maddeningly slow.

Judy gasped, biting down on her bottom lip, but the pleasure made her restless. Her hips moved instinctively, seeking more, but Valerie’s hands were already there, pressing her down, keeping her right where she wanted her. “Fuck,” she exhaled, the curse barely a sound, lost in the haze of sensation.

A soft, approving hum vibrated against her clit, and Judy’s heart stopped for a second, her fingers tightening in Valerie’s hair once more, tugging now, trying to pull her closer, to make her stop playing and finally give her what she needed.

Judy whimpered as Val’s lips finally wrapped around her, drawing her in, sucking slow and deep, her tongue flicking in measured, precise strokes. Every touch sent fresh heat pooling in Judy’s belly, pressure mounting higher, spiraling dangerously close to the edge.

And then Valerie added her fingers. A slow, teasing slide inside, a stretch that sent Judy arching off the bed, a sharp cry escaping before she could swallow it down. Valerie moved deliberately, curling her fingers just so, finding that perfect spot with instinctual ease. Judy’s breath broke, her body tightening around the intrusion, a sharp wave of pleasure crashing over her as Valerie set a steady, devastating rhythm - fingers thrusting deep, mouth working relentlessly above, her tongue circling, flicking, dragging her higher and higher.

She squeezed her eyes shut so tightly that bursts of black and white dots danced behind her eyelids. She was astonished by Valerie’s instinctive precision, her touch finding the most erogenous spots in mere moments. Despite it being their first time, Val seemed to possess an innate understanding of Judy’s body, her touch measured yet wildly effective, sending Judy spiraling closer to the brink of release with each motion.

The sensation built like a slow, unstoppable crescendo, starting from her fingertips and racing toward her core, a tidal wave threatening to burst forth. Judy couldn’t think anymore. Couldn’t breathe right. Everything narrowed to the pressure building inside her, the heat between her thighs, the slick sounds of Valerie’s fingers moving in and out, the obscene, sinful pleasure of her tongue.

“Oh—fuck—Val, right there,” she gasped.

Valerie obeyed, pressing harder, thrusting deeper, drinking in every moan, every shudder, until Judy felt herself unraveling, spiraling helplessly toward something inevitable. She squeezed her eyes shut, white-hot pleasure crackling through her, her thighs trembling violently as the wave crested—

And then she broke.

Her body seized, everything inside her erupted. A strangled cry escaped her throat as the orgasm tore through her, pleasure so fierce it left her boneless, undone, shaking apart in Valerie’s hands. She arched, gasping, drowning in it, her entire body pulsing with the force of release. She barely registered Valerie slowing, drawing out every last tremor with careful strokes of her tongue, her fingers easing the aftershocks with a tenderness.

When the waves finally ebbed and her body relaxed, she forced her eyes open, still hazy, still trying to catch her breath. And there was Valerie, poised between her legs, kneeling on the mattress, a wicked smirk curving her lips, her fingers still buried inside her. Judy watched, helplessly entranced, as Val, without breaking eye contact, withdrew her fingers - slowly, carefully, purposefully - and brought them to her lips. Their gazes locked, electric, as she sucked them clean, licking off Judy’s essence with an almost decadent relish.

A fresh wave of heat flushed through Judy’s already spent body, and a breathless sound escaped her throat. Valerie’s grin widened, pleased as she continued to savor every lingering trace of Judy's arousal with her tongue. “You taste incredible,” she murmured, her voice warm, full of quiet admiration.

Judy barely had time to recover before Valerie crawled up beside her, sliding effortlessly into her arms, the heat of her skin pressing against hers. The room, bathed in moonlight, felt impossibly quiet now, the afterglow settling over them like a soft, silken haze.

Judy turned her head, meeting Valerie’s gaze, and something in her chest clenched tight. Something deep, something terrifyingly real. The way Valerie looked at her - like she was something to be cherished, something to be memorized, to be worshipped - made her breath catch for an entirely different reason than moments ago.

Neither of them spoke. They didn’t need to. Their eyes conveying everything that needed to be said, their feelings laid bare. Stripped of pretense.

Time seemed to dissolve as they lay there together, the warmth of their passion gradually cooling, leaving Judy with goosebumps as the sweat on her skin evaporated, replaced by a delicate chill. Noticing the change, Valerie simply gathered her close, tucking her against her chest, pulling the blankets, their legs tangling together as she pressed a lingering kiss to the top of her head.

They lay together in comfortable silence, their bodies still damp and exhausted, breathing in each other's scents as sleep began to claim them. Valerie mumbled something softly into her teammate’s hair, a whispered promise or a lingering sentiment, but the words were lost to the encroaching exhaustion that pulled Judy gently into slumber.

The morning light bled through the curtains in slow, golden waves, washing the room in a soft, dreamlike glow. Judy lingered in the fragile space between sleep and wakefulness, her body heavy with the remnants of deep rest. But something tugged at the edges of her consciousness, a gentle pull coaxing her back to reality. A touch. Soft, reverent, moving across her skin with delicate precision.

Her eyes fluttered open, adjusting to the glow of morning, and she turned her head toward the source. Valerie lay beside her, sprawled on the sheets, her blue hair tousled and messy, catching the light like strands of silk. But her attention wasn’t on Judy’s gaze - she was focused on something else entirely. Judy’s arm lay between them, and Valerie’s fingers traced the ink there, her touch featherlight, mapping out each line, each swirl, as if committing them to memory.

The sight made Judy’s chest tighten. Not from discomfort, but from something deeper, something she wasn’t sure she had words for.

Valerie must have felt her stir, because she glanced up, catching Judy’s gaze with a sheepish smile. “Sorry,” she murmured, her voice low and rough from sleep. “Didn’t mean to wake you. Couldn’t fall back asleep, and I guess I got a little curious.”

Judy blinked away the last traces of sleep, the lingering echoes of the previous night slipping back into her mind like heat rising from embers. The press of Valerie’s body against hers, the teasing smirk that played on her lips, the slow drag of lips along skin, the breathless moans that had filled the space between them. The memory sent a flicker of warmth curling through her stomach, and she swallowed, suddenly aware of how exposed they both were beneath the sheets.

Valerie’s fingers didn’t stop moving, still tracing the ink in quiet fascination, absorbed in the simple, almost innocent act of studying the marks on Judy’s skin.

“What are you looking for?”

Valerie huffed a quiet laugh, her gaze drifting back down to the tattoo beneath her fingertips. “Dunno,” she admitted. “Guess I just wanted to know more about you.” Her voice was softer now, more thoughtful. “Feels like these are pieces of a puzzle.”

Judy's heart swelled at Valerie’s words, and she shifted onto her side, propping herself up on one elbow to watch the other woman more closely. The way Val looked at her tattoos - not just as ink on skin, but as stories, as fragments of something worth knowing - made her insides twist in a way she wasn’t sure how to deal with.

“You know you could just ask,” she said, a small smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. “Don’t have to go full detective on me.”

Valerie grinned at that, the playful glint returning to her eyes. “Yeah, but where’s the fun in that? Also… there’s something special about this… about learning you through the marks you’ve chosen to carry on your skin."

The words hit Judy with unexpected force, sinking deep. Chosen. Her tattoos were hers - not just symbols etched into flesh, but stories she claimed, memories she shaped. They were declarations of defiance, of survival, of beauty forged from broken places.

But Valerie’s skin carried marks of a different kind. Scars - brutal, unyielding - etched not by choice but by cruelty. Ugly reminders of blood and grime, of battles fought and losses endured. Not so long ago, Judy was tracing those scars with trembling fingertips, listening as Val spoke of things better left forgotten. Stories that hurt to tell but couldn’t be buried, no matter how hard she tried. Still, Valerie had let her in. Had trusted her with those pieces, jagged and sharp. And now, here she was, tracing Judy’s tattoos with that same reverent tenderness - as though they held secrets worth discovering. And Judy wanted to let her in as well.

Valerie’s hand drifted lower, fingers brushing over a delicate script that curved along Judy’s forearm. She hesitated there, thumb ghosting over the ink before murmuring, “This one… Underwater where thoughts can breathe easy?”

Judy followed her gaze, eyes landing on the tattoo - a lyric, a memory, a tether to a time long gone. She let out a slow breath, her fingers instinctively finding Valerie’s, intertwining them in a brief but grounding gesture.

“It’s from a song,” she said finally, her voice quieter now, tinged with nostalgia. “Red Hot Chili Peppers. My granddad used to play them while working on his bike in the garage, back in Laguna Bend. I used to sit there with him, pretending I was helping. He’d let me pass him wrenches, hold his beer… made me feel like I was part of something.”

She smiled faintly, though there was an ache beneath it. “This song… it stuck with me. Like carrying a piece of that time, of him and Laguna Bend, wherever I go.”

Valerie’s expression shifted, something unreadable flickering across her features. The weight of Judy’s words settled between them, not heavy, but present. But then, just as the moment threatened to slip into something too raw, too close, Val’s hand moved again. Lower. Her fingers ghosted over the lines of another tattoo, one that spanned Judy’s chest - a red spiderweb stretching across her breast. Judy felt the shift in atmosphere before she even saw the smirk forming on Valerie’s lips. A slow, lazy stroke of fingers. A teasing glide that sent heat pooling low in Judy’s stomach.

“Val…” she whispered, a note of warning in her voice, but it was already too late.

Valerie grinned, all mischief and heat, her fingers circling lazily before pinching the sensitive peak of Judy’s nipple between her fingers. Judy sucked in a sharp breath, her body betraying her as a fresh wave of desire surged through her.

“Just admirin’… your ink,” Valerie said, voice dripping with false innocence.

Judy let out a breathless laugh, shaking her head even as a shiver worked its way down her spine. “Yeah? That what we’re callin’ it now?”

She should stop this. Should call Valerie out for the tease, maybe shove at her shoulder, make some half-hearted attempt at putting space between them. She was caught in a delicious struggle, torn between surrendering to the growing lust that Valerie’s ministrations were stoking and the urge to rein it in before things spiraled into something more.

But she didn’t stop her. She let her stay close. And when Val leaned in, pressing her lips to the same spot her fingers had just teased, Judy knew she was already lost. The slow drag of Valerie’s lips, the heat of her breath, the careful way her tongue flicked against oversensitized flesh - it all set Judy alight. A reminder that she had woken up wanting this, craving Valerie’s touch long before the first kiss had landed against her bare skin. And now, with her sprawled beside her, hands and mouth mapping her body like she had all the time in the world, Judy was drowning in it.

She needed more. More of Valerie’s warmth, more of the way her body molded perfectly against hers, more of the tension winding so tight inside her she thought she might snap. She craved that intoxicating attention that seemed to pour from Val effortlessly, as if it was the most natural thing in the world. The ache coiled deep, sharp and insistent, growing unbearable with every second her lover spent dragging this out. It wasn’t enough. It would never be enough. It was a craving she could no longer suppress.

Her pulse hammered as she made her choice, instinct overriding thought. With a swift, fluid motion, she shifted, straddling Valerie’s lap in one decisive move. She felt the sharp intake of breath beneath her, the momentary jolt of surprise as Valerie’s playful grin vanished, replaced by a wide-eyed look of intrigue and excitement. Before she could react, Judy caught her wrists, pinning them down against the mattress, fingers wrapped firm around them.

For a heartbeat, she hovered above her, their faces inches apart, breaths mingling in the charged space between them. Val’s eyes flickered with dangerous mixture - part challenge, part anticipation. Judy watched the rise and fall of her chest, the way her breath hitched just slightly, the way her lips parted, wordless. She was waiting. Daring her.

Judy smirked. Accepted the challenge. And then she kissed her.

Not soft, not tentative. It was fierce, demanding, a collision of heat and hunger as she poured everything into it - the slow-burning frustration, the unbearable want, the need to wipe that smug grin off Valerie’s lips and replace it with something breathless, something desperate. Val made a small, startled sound before she melted into it, her body arching, pressing into Judy’s as if pulled by an invisible force. Her wrists tensed beneath Judy’s grip, testing the hold, but she held firm. Not to restrain her, not to hurt - just to remind her who was in control now.

The kiss deepened, spiraling into something reckless, something wild. Judy’s tongue flicked against Valerie’s lower lip before she bit down gently, teasing, savoring the way Valerie gasped at the sensation. A ripple of pleasure shot through her, electricity snapping through her veins as she drank in every little reaction, every tremor, every sharp inhale. The heat radiating between them was unbearable now, a slow-burning fire threatening to consume them whole. Soft whimpers escaped Valerie’s lips, quiet pleas that only made Judy hungrier, made her want to drag this out just a little longer.

She pulled back just enough to catch her breath, her lips brushing against Valerie’s, teasing, ghosting over them but never quite closing the space. "Thought you could tease me, huh?" Judy murmured, voice thick with arousal, each word deliberate, drawn out, meant to taunt the woman beneath her.

Valerie’s smirk flickered back in an instant, her eyes darkening with lust. The shift was so fast, so seamless, that Judy barely registered it before she was the one caught in the trap. Valerie moved fluidly, slipping from her grasp like water, her body unfurling with practiced ease until she was the one sitting upright, back pressed against the headboard, Judy still straddling her lap. One firm hand settled against Judy’s chest, fingers splayed just above her sternum, holding her in place with a pressure that wasn’t forceful, but undeniable. The other hand, however, had already found its way between Judy’s legs.

The first stroke was devastating.

Judy’s breath stuttered in her throat, her hips jerking instinctively, her body responding automatically as Valerie’s fingers moved with an almost lazy precision, tracing through the wetness she had so meticulously coaxed from her. A soft, broken moan slipped past Judy’s lips before she could bite it back.

She hated how easily Valerie unraveled her, how effortlessly she wielded control with nothing but these sure, deliberate movements of her hands. Judy looked down, her eyes locking onto Val’s, frustration flickering across her features like static before melting away. She had spent so much of her life fighting for control - of her career, her body, her heart. It was instinct, survival. But as she met Valerie’s gaze, the need to reclaim it dissipated like smoke.

This wasn’t some one-night stand, some nameless face she would forget by afternoon. This was Valerie - the woman who had slipped past her walls like she was meant to be there, who had found all the vulnerable places she had kept hidden and handled them with care. The one she dared to imagine something real with, something that stretched beyond tangled sheets and stolen touches. Judy could see it in her eyes - that hazy, lust-drunk daze tempered by certainty and love. Valerie looked at her like she was something precious, something sacred, something to be memorized and held onto.

And so, she let go.

Judy surrendered to that gaze, let herself be open in a way she never had before. Her body moved on instinct, hips rolling into Valerie’s touch, a pulse of pleasure driving her motions, following the unhurried rhythm of Val’s fingers. Each movement sent pleasure coiling tighter in her belly, until it felt like she was fraying at the edges, unraveling with every deliberate stroke.

Her nails found Valerie’s shoulders, digging in hard enough to leave faint crescent marks against the skin, but the blue-haired woman didn’t even flinch. She was completely steady, completely focused, like she existed solely for this - to pull Judy apart, to put her back together. Then, just as Judy thought she might spiral over the edge, Valerie’s free hand moved slowly until her fingers found the firetruck inked onto Judy’s chest. Her touch was barely there, tracing the outline with a tenderness that sent a different kind of shiver through Judy.

“What’s the story behind the truck?” Valerie’s voice was quiet, curious, teasing in that way that made Judy’s chest ache with something more than just lust.

Judy’s head snapped forward, her gaze half-lidded and dazed, yet sharp with disbelief. “Val…” she gasped, her breath catching in her throat. “Are you fuckin’ serious right now?”

A slow grin curled at the blue-haired woman’s lips. “What? I like this one… Am I disturbing you somehow?”

Judy let out a sound between a groan and a laugh, her head falling back again. “I think you—fuck—know exactly what you’re doin’ to me.”

Valerie hummed in acknowledgment, the vibration of it sending another pulse of heat straight through her. “Do you want me to stop?”

Judy’s eyes snapped open, sharp and warning. “Don’t you fuckin’ dare.”

The words left her lips in a breathless growl, her hips bucking against Valerie’s fingers as if to drive the point home. Valerie chuckled, low and smug, but she didn’t stop - if anything, she slowed down, dragging out each touch, keeping Judy right on the precipice without letting her fall.

“My granddad,” Judy forced out, her voice shaking, “was a—ah, right fuckin’ there—a firefighter.”

Valerie made a small sound of approval, a soft hum as her fingers pressed just a little deeper, just right, making Judy’s world shatter. Her other hand shifted lower, her touch traveling down, following the swell of her breast, curve of her abs, until her fingers hovered just above another tattoo – a cat. Valerie traced the delicate lines with the same lazy reverence. “I think this one is my favorite,” she said, voice barely above a whisper.

Before Judy could even process a response, Valerie dipped her head, lips parting, tongue flicking out to tease her nipple - slow, deliberate licks that sent heat pooling low in her stomach.

Judy shuddered, hands flying back into her lover’s hair, gripping tight. “You’re gonna drive me insane,” she choked out.

Val just smiled against her skin, her breath warm, her voice a low, wicked whisper. “Good.”

Judy’s body tensed, her breath catching in her throat. She had been teetering on the edge since she woke up, her senses heightened, every inch of her skin attuned to Valerie’s touch. She knew it wouldn’t take long - Val wielded pleasure like an art form, an expert in unraveling her piece by piece, pushing her buttons, exposing every raw, vulnerable part of her with a precision that felt almost supernatural. Each touch, each stroke, was calculated yet effortless, drawing her closer to the breaking point with an inevitability that left her trembling.

For the first time in longer than she could remember, surrender didn’t scare her. Here, in Valerie’s arms, she felt safe. Completely, wholly safe. There was no fear, no hesitation - only trust, deep and unshakable, wrapping around her like a second skin. And it made everything sharper, every sensation heightened, every pulse of pleasure more intense. She willingly let go, allowing herself to be vulnerable, knowing that Val wouldn’t do anything to harm her.

Judy's hips moved with a mind of their own, chasing the friction, as though she was fucking herself with Valerie’s fingers, rather than the other way around. The pressure built rapidly, swelling into something all-consuming, pushing her closer and closer to the edge - until she couldn’t take it anymore. Her hands shot forward, grasping Valerie’s face with a desperate urgency. She didn’t pull her into a kiss, didn’t need to - she only held her there, their foreheads nearly touching, her eyes dark with need.

A silent confession passed between them, heavy in the small space that separated them. I trust you. This is yours. I am yours. Take me.

Valerie’s breath hitched, her pupils dilating just slightly as understanding dawned. “Let it go, baby,” she whispered, her voice low, coaxing. “Let it go for me.”

The words shattered something inside her. A sharp gasp tore from Judy’s lips as the final barrier crumbled, pleasure crashing over her in waves so intense they bordered on overwhelming. Her body tensed, then convulsed as she came, her thighs snapping shut around Valerie’s hand, trapping her there as ecstasy surged through her like wildfire. A strangled cry spilled from her throat, raw and unrestrained, every pulse of pleasure radiating outward, unraveling her completely.

Valerie didn’t stop. She guided her through it with steady, patient hands, her fingers still working her clit with a gentleness that only prolonged the aftershocks, drawing every last tremor from Judy’s overstimulated body. She held her firm, grounding her, tethering her to reality even as she floated in the aftermath.

The world gradually came back into focus, the edges of her vision no longer blurred by pleasure. Judy exhaled shakily, her chest rising and falling in rapid succession as she slowly unclenched her thighs, releasing the grip she hadn’t even realized she’d had on Valerie. Her body still hummed with the remnants of her climax, but warmth, not exhaustion, settled in her limbs.

A small, breathless laugh escaped her as she reached out, looping an arm around Valerie’s neck and pulling her close. Their faces hovered inches apart, their breaths mingling, damp skin pressing together. They didn’t speak, didn’t need to. The moment stretched between them, delicate and unbreakable, the weight of it pressing into the space where words might have gone.

Judy was the first to break the stalemate. She smiled - soft and genuine, a bright, unguarded thing that crinkled the corners of her eyes. She saw the flicker of recognition in Valerie’s gaze just before she was pulled into an embrace so tight, so all-encompassing, it felt like being held together. Valerie’s arms wrapped around her, locking her in place, like her whole life depended on it, like she had no intention of letting go. And Judy? She never wanted her to.

“Hi,” Valerie murmured when they finally pulled back, her grin lazy, her voice still edged with warmth.

Judy exhaled a soft laugh, brushing her nose against Valerie’s. “Hi.”

Valerie tilted her head, studying her with that sharp, unreadable gaze that always seemed to see more than Judy was willing to say. “That was okay, right?” she asked, teasing, but beneath the lightness was something real, something uncertain.

Judy hummed, her fingers tracing idle patterns over Valerie’s shoulder, grounding herself in the warmth of her skin. “More than okay,” she murmured. “A bit… surprising though.”

One of Val’s brows arched, her smirk deepening. “Surprising in a good way or a bad way?”

Judy stretched, shifting slightly so they both settled against the pillows, the aftershocks still buzzing faintly beneath her skin. “Amazing,” she admitted, her voice quieter now, more intimate. “I’m not usually one to… give up control so easily.”

Valerie’s expression softened. “Then I’m honored.”

Judy rolled her eyes but couldn’t fight the smile tugging at her lips. She let the moment linger before sighing and sitting up. “Shower?”

Valerie glanced at the clock, then back at her, eyes narrowing with playful suspicion. “We don’t have much time before the final briefing.”

“Exactly,” Judy said, already swinging her legs over the edge of the bed. “Showering together saves time… and water. You know, for the penguins.”

Valerie snorted, propping herself up on one elbow. “Oh, sure, for the penguins… And here I thought you just wanted an excuse for round two.”

Judy shot her a look over her shoulder, a glint of mischief in her eye. “Would that be a bad thing?”

Valerie chuckled as she sat up. “Not at all.”

“Then get your ass in the shower before I change my mind.”

Valerie was already moving, grin widening as she followed. “Bossy,” she teased, voice dripping with amusement.

Judy smirked. “You love it.”

The blue-haired woman just laughed, stepping in behind her, hands already reaching.

Chapter Text

Chapter XII | Never Be the Same
Just like nicotine, heroin, morphine - suddenly, I'm a fiend and you're all I need.

Driven by a hunger that refused to be sated, Judy pressed Valerie against the cool, slick tiles, her hands mapping now-familiar territory, her lips reclaiming every inch of the blue-haired woman’s skin. Their urgency stretched time, pulling them into a languid, breathless rhythm that neither was willing to break. Nearly half an hour passed before they finally emerged from the hot stream, their bodies spent, their laughter mixing with the rush of water swirling down the drain.

Well, the penguins wouldn’t be saved that day.

Judy was fairly certain that their cries of pleasure had traveled well beyond the confines of their bathroom, echoing down the corridor like a siren’s call. Her suspicions were confirmed when they finally strolled into the cafeteria, damp hair tousled, skin still flushed from both heat and exertion. It was impossible not to notice the way heads turned. A few stolen glances. A couple of whispered words passed between teammates. A smirk here, a knowing look there.

Yeah, they knew. But Judy didn’t care.

For the first time in what felt like forever, she felt light. Whole. Happiness, deep and radiant, settled in her chest, something warm and golden blooming where uncertainty and anxiety used to reside. It was a rare thing, a gift she wasn’t sure she deserved. And she wasn’t about to let it slip through her fingers. She glanced to the side, watching the blue-haired woman dig into her bowl of cereal with blissful ignorance - or perhaps, sheer indifference - to the attention they’d drawn. Judy could only smile.

It was almost laughable, the contrast between the woman who had just make her come undone and the one now chewing absentmindedly, utterly fixated on her breakfast. There was something endearing about the ease of it, the way Valerie simply existed in the aftermath of their shared storm, completely unfazed. As if the world hadn’t just shifted on its axis.

Judy reached for a piece of toast, but before she could take a bite, the scrape of a chair against the tile floor cut through the air. Rita dropped into the seat across from them, arms crossed, a mischievous gleam lighting up her sharp eyes.

“Sounds like you two had yourselves a pretty eventful mornin’.”

Judy’s grip tightened slightly on the toast, her heart skipping a beat - not in nervousness, but in sheer, unfiltered annoyance. But before she could formulate a response, Valerie smirked around a mouthful of cereal and shrugged.

“No idea what you’re talkin’ about.”

Rita’s grin widened. “Oh, come on, Blue. Y’know, you two are sharin’ a bathroom wall with Rachel and Georgina… and well, let’s just say there’s been some talk.”

Judy’s stomach flipped.

The purple-haired defender feigned innocence, swirling her spoon idly in her coffee. “Seems like someone was expressin’ themselves enthusiastically this mornin’. And given the circumstances… well, let’s just say no one’s buying that it was pre-game nerves.”

Judy felt the heat creep up her neck, a slow burn that settled in her cheeks. But she refused to break, refused to let Rita see even a flicker of embarrassment in her expression. Instead, she lifted a brow, feigning nonchalance. “Could’ve been anyone,” she said, voice smooth, controlled.

Rita barked out a laugh, shaking her head. “Oh, sure. Yeah. ‘Cause we got a whole team of folks just havin’ themselves a spiritual experience at the crack of dawn. All of them love—jus’ fuckin’ love spendin’ some time on their knees, y'know, prayin',” she said with a grin. “All I wanna say, Cap—it’s about damn time you loosened up.”

Valerie finally glanced up from her cereal, her smirk widening as she turned to Judy. “I mean… Jude’s overdue for a lot of things.”

Rita’s brows shot up, delighted. “Oh, is that so?” she exhaled a chuckle, tilting her head as she took in Judy’s flushed skin, the barely concealed amusement twitching at her lips. “I can agree with that. I’m glad someone’s finally taken charge of her well-bein’.”

Judy groaned, rolling her eyes even as a traitorous smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. “Alright, you two, that’s enough,” she muttered, reaching for her coffee. “Can we focus on something else? We’ve got a match to win today.”

“Sure, sure,” Rita said easily, leaning back in her chair. “Just hope you didn’t wear yourself out before we even hit the pitch.”

Judy groaned again, and Valerie just grinned, shoving another spoonful of cereal into her mouth like she hadn’t just turned Judy’s morning into headline gossip.

“Tell me—does your girlfriend already know just how superstitious you are?”

Judy’s stomach twisted, the word girlfriend ringing in her ears, louder than anything else her friend had just said. It caught her off guard, settled uneasily in her chest, like a question she hadn’t been ready to ask herself. She had thought about it, of course - more than once over the past few days. It wasn’t like she and Valerie had danced around what they were, not really. Their actions spoke loud enough, the way they gravitated toward each other, the quiet assurances, the exclusivity that neither of them had outright claimed but was just understood. But they hadn’t said it. Put a name to it.

And now, here it was, sitting right in front of her in Rita’s teasing grin.

“Oh, do tell,” Valerie said, her voice warm with curiosity. She nudged her empty bowl aside, leaning forward on her elbows, chin resting in her palm. The flicker of amusement in her gaze was easy, almost as if Rita’s words hadn’t fazed her in the slightest.

Judy shot her friend a warning look, as if that might somehow deter her. “Reet…”

But Rita, naturally, was undeterred. She grinned, launching into her list like she had been waiting for this moment all morning.

“Well, there are the usual ones—touching the doorframe of the locker room before heading to the field, stepping onto the pitch with her right foot first, always being the last one off the field.” She paused just long enough for effect, delighting in the glare Judy was shooting her over the rim of her coffee cup. “And then there are the truly ridiculous ones—folding her clothes on the bench in a specific order before putting them on, wearing the same boots for an entire tournament, tying and retying her right one, always.”

Judy sighed, shaking her head, but the exasperation she felt was softened by the warmth of Valerie’s quiet laughter beside her.

“That’s kinda adorable,” Val mused, bumping her shoulder lightly against Judy’s. “Your own little rituals.”

Judy groaned. “You’re the fuckin’ worst, Reet.”

“Why?” Rita said, feigning innocence as she stretched her arms above her head. “I’m just saving you from those awkward pre-match questions. We all know how much you hate bein’ disturbed before a game.”

Judy rolled her eyes, but Valerie spoke before she could. “No need to worry about me botherin’ you,” she said with a casual shrug. “I got my own ritual.”

Judy looked at her, genuinely intrigued now, relieved to hear she wasn’t the only one with quirks. “Oh yeah? What is it?”

“Nothin’ weird. Just need to be alone for a bit, juggle the ball, listen to music.”

Rita tilted her head, curiosity piqued. “What kind of music?”

“Samurai,” Valerie said, her voice quieter, gaze drifting slightly like she had momentarily stepped out of the conversation and into some memory of her own. Judy followed her line of sight, searching for whatever had pulled her away for that brief second, but there was nothing. Just the sun cutting slanted light through the mess of breakfast dishes.

Rita snorted, pushing back from the table. “Those old farts, huh? Well, whatever keeps you in the zone, I guess.” She grabbed her plate, then pointed at the both of them. “And I know it’s just the Kangaroos today, but don’t let that make you cocky. We need you both locked in. So, no funny business, got it? You’ve had your fun this mornin’.”

Judy smirked. “Sure thing, Mom.”

Valerie laughed, a warm, easy sound, and Judy felt the weight in her chest lighten. Maybe they hadn’t said it yet. Maybe they hadn’t named whatever it was between them. But she knew. And, looking at the way Valerie was smiling at her now, she knew Valerie did too.

The locker room pulsed with a restless energy, the kind that built in the moments before a big match. Teammates buzzed around like charged particles, some pacing, others stretching, each lost in their own rituals. The sharp tang of sweat and liniment hung in the air, mingling with the low murmur of last-minute strategies and the occasional burst of laughter meant to chase away nerves. Cleats scuffed against the tile, shinguards snapped into place, and somewhere in the distance, the deep rumble of the stadium crowd sent a thrumming pulse through the walls, a visceral reminder of the battle waiting just beyond the tunnel.

Judy stood in the center of it all, suited up, ready to jog out onto the pitch, but strangely lost. The adrenaline should have been taking hold by now, should have been working its way through her limbs, sharpening her focus to a fine edge. Instead, something tugged at the edges of her thoughts, a quiet but insistent pull. Valerie.

She hadn’t talk with her since they stepped off the bus, each slipping into their own pre-game routines. During Rogue’s speech, they had exchanged a glance, a fleeting moment where their eyes met across the locker room, and Judy swore she saw something there - a quiet promise, a shared understanding that didn’t need words. But then Valerie was gone, swallowed by the tide of the team, vanishing into the pre-match chaos. And now, as the minutes bled away, Judy scanned the room again, searching for the familiar glint of blue in the sea of white and black.

Nothing.

A knot of unease tightened in her chest. She knew Valerie could take care of herself - hell, she was the last person who needed looking after - but something about her absence didn’t sit right. As the team began to file toward the tunnel, their movements synchronized like a well-oiled machine, Judy hesitated. She should go with them, should fall into step and let instinct take over. But her feet remained rooted to the tile, and before she could second-guess the impulse, she turned, heading in the opposite direction.

The locker room was emptying fast, the buzz of voices fading into the distance. That was when she heard it - a low murmur, barely audible beneath the ambient noise. A voice, rough and edged with frustration, coming from the direction of the showers.

Judy slowed her steps, her pulse quickening.

“...just come out and say it, Johnny. You don’t trust them… c’mon, you know it’s a lose-lose clusterfuck of a sitch… might not be any other way… we tried the other leads before, what else can I do?”

She stopped just outside the slightly ajar door, her breath caught somewhere between concern and curiosity. Valerie’s voice, raspy, unmistakable, tinged with something she couldn’t quite place. And the name - Johnny. It meant nothing to her, yet it curled in the air like something weighty, something not meant to be overheard. Judy hesitated, torn between knocking and simply walking away. But the match was minutes away, and if something was wrong…

With a quiet breath, she pushed the door open just enough to slip inside. “Val?” she called, her voice soft, careful not to startle.

Valerie spun toward her, eyes wide, the tension in her body unmistakable. For a fleeting second, there was raw surprise - maybe even alarm - before she schooled her expression, slipping behind the mask Judy knew too well. A flicker of something passed across her face, quick as a breath, before she forced a lopsided smile.

“Jude,” Valerie exhaled, rubbing the back of her neck. “Didn’t think anyone was still back here.”

Judy frowned, glancing around. No phone. No earpiece. Nothing that explained who she had been talking to. Her worry only deepened. “You good?”

Valerie nodded, a little too quickly. “Yeah. Just—y’know. Pre-game jitters.”

It was a lie, or at least a half-truth, but Judy didn’t push. Not now. It was clear that this wasn’t the right moment or place for explanations. Instead, she closed the distance between them, reaching up to brush a stray lock of blue lock from Valerie’s face, letting her fingertips linger a second longer than necessary. The tension in Val’s shoulders eased, just a fraction, and she leaned into the touch, exhaling softly.

“We’ve got this, Jude,” Valerie murmured, their foreheads almost touching, her voice quieter now, steadier.

Judy smiled, letting her fingers trail down to Valerie’s jaw before tilting her chin up. “Of course we do,” she replied and pressed a kiss to Val’s lips, brief but grounding. “Let’s go remind them who the fuck we are.”

Valerie let out a breath of laughter, some of the tightness in her stance slipping away. She nodded, her smirk - familiar, confident - finally returning.

“Let’s give ‘em hell.”

The stadium loomed before them, a vast, breathing colossus alive with the fervor of thousands. The air pulsed with the rhythmic chants of fans, their voices blending into a singular, deafening roar that resonated deep in Judy’s chest. As she and Valerie emerged from the tunnel, the floodlights flared overhead, momentarily blinding her. She blinked rapidly, her vision adjusting to the breathtaking sprawl before her - a sea of faces, banners undulating like waves, flags snapping in the wind, the collective anticipation thick enough to taste.

The noise crashed over her in waves, immense, consuming, and for a moment, she felt the weight of it all. Years of sweat-drenched training sessions, relentless drills, the sacrifices made in the pursuit of this very moment - it had all led her here, to the center of this roaring coliseum, where the line between glory and heartbreak was razor-thin.

Beside her, Valerie stood still, her presence steady, grounding. As the opening chords of the national anthem swelled through the air, Judy turned her head just enough to catch Valerie’s gaze. Their eyes locked, and in that fleeting second, nothing needed to be said. They knew. They were here, together, ready to carve their names into this match, this tournament, this history. The atmosphere crackled with electricity, the kind that could either fuel them to greatness or crush them under its intensity. Judy chose to harness it, letting the energy course through her veins, setting every part of her on fire.

The formalities passed in a blur. Stout shook hands with the Australian captain, the teams assembled, and soon, Valerie stood at the center of the field, the ball at her feet, waiting. She shifted, weight settling into familiar readiness, and cast Judy a glance, the ghost of a smirk playing at her lips. Judy felt her own mouth mirror the expression, the silent acknowledgment of what was about to come.

The whistle split the air.

The stadium roared anew as the match ignited into motion. Judy’s pulse quickened, her body moving before thought could intervene, the rhythm of the game flowing through her veins as instinct took over. She barely felt the ball as it passed through her feet, so natural, almost like it was an extension of herself rather than an object to be controlled. She was in her element now, the world outside fading away as her focus zeroed in on the pitch.

She played the ball back to the midfielders, pivoting on her heel and darting toward the flank, positioning herself for the return pass. Though Australia wasn’t a powerhouse in this tournament - its roster dotted with names unfamiliar on the international stage - Judy knew better than to underestimate them. Soccer was unpredictable, its beauty woven in the chaos of the unexpected. Even the underdog could defy the odds.

The first possession was everything. Judy knew they had to set the tone, to seize control of the game from the outset. Her thoughts turned to Regina’s reports, the meticulous scouting that had highlighted a weak link in their defense - the left-back, vulnerable under pressure. A flaw Judy was eager to exploit at the first chance she got.

She moved with calculated precision, feinting right before slicing left, leaving her defender stumbling in her wake. A sharp call from the center of the pitch drew her gaze just in time to see Panam launching a cross-field pass in her direction. The ball swerved slightly off-target, but she had space, and that was all she needed. With a deft touch, she brought it under control, scanning the pitch in a heartbeat.

Valerie was already in position. Judy didn’t hesitate. Her pass was crisp, clean, slicing through the humid night air with surgical precision. The blue-haired striker received it flawlessly, her movements quick, assured, a predator circling her prey. Judy watched, pulse hammering, as Valerie feinted, sending the nearest defender lunging at nothing but air. She had space now, a clear shot at goal, and Judy expected her to take it. She had seen Valerie bury chances like this a hundred times before - a delicate lob over the keeper’s head, a thunderous strike into the top corner.

But Valerie had other ideas.

Without even looking, she flicked the ball back, a soft, deliberate pass that rolled perfectly into Judy’s path. The weight of it was impeccable, almost as if Valerie had read her mind, as if she had known exactly where she’d be before she even got there. Judy didn’t second-guess it. She met the ball in stride, her body aligning instinctively, her foot connecting. The moment of impact was a whisper of contact, a heartbeat stretched into eternity. The ball soared, curving through the air, the goalkeeper lunging, fingertips grazing - but not stopping.

The net rippled. Then the stadium erupted, a tidal wave of sound that engulfed everything. The roar was deafening, a collective exhale of exhilaration, and Judy barely registered any of it, her mind still catching up to what her body had just done, still processing the sequence of events.

Slowly, a wide grin spread across her face as the realization set in. They had done it – first match, first possession, first goal. It was the perfect start.

And then she turned. Val was already running toward her, and Judy met her halfway, crashing into a spontaneous embrace as their teammates swarmed around them. The world blurred - cheering voices, flashing lights, the sheer euphoria of the moment wrapping around her like an intoxicating haze. Valerie’s arms tightened around her, and Judy felt herself laughing, the sound lost in the cacophony of the stadium but unmistakable in its joy.

They pulled apart just enough for their gazes to meet again, eyes shining, breathless, victorious.

“Told you we’ve got this, Jude,” Valerie murmured, her voice just barely cutting through the surrounding chaos, the smirk still lingering on her lips.

Judy let out another breathless laugh, shaking her head as her heart pounded, soaring higher than ever.

“Yeah,” she said, grinning like an idiot. “We really do.”

As always, Judy was the last to leave the pitch. Even after the final whistle had echoed through the stadium and the roar of the crowd had begun to fade into the cooling evening air, she lingered. She walked slowly across the turf, the blades of synthetic grass soft beneath her cleats, letting the moment stretch just a little longer. The adrenaline still hummed in her veins, the thrill of victory not yet dulled by the passage of time.

She stayed to sign jerseys and scrawl her name onto posters, pausing for selfies with fans who called her name, their faces alight with excitement. She loved this part - the genuine joy of those who had cheered them on, the shared victory. Meanwhile, her teammates had already retreated into the tunnel, eager for hot showers and the beginning of a well-earned celebration.

It had been a perfect game, better than she could have hoped for. The memory of her first goal still pulsed vividly in her chest, a moment she could almost relive with every heartbeat. Panam had doubled their lead soon after, her free kick slicing through the air like a blade. In the second half, Valerie had put the game to bed with two more goals, each one assisted by Judy - a proof of their partnership on the field, a connection that felt almost telepathic.

They had played like a machine, seamless and fluid, reading each other’s movements before they happened. It was instinct, muscle memory, the kind of understanding that couldn’t be taught. The Kangaroos hadn’t stood a chance. Every time they tried to close the gap, Judy and Valerie were already a step ahead, threading passes between them like a well-rehearsed dance. And when the final goal hit the back of the net, Valerie had spun toward her, beaming, and Judy had thrown her arms around her without thinking, caught in the sheer, electric joy of it all.

Now, as she finally made her way toward the tunnel, she spotted Regina standing just beyond the sidelines, her sharp, confident grin unmistakable as she spoke to a group of reporters. Even from a distance, Judy could see the enthusiasm in the way she gestured, reliving the game through every word. Their eyes met briefly, and her coach’s smile widened, an unspoken acknowledgment of the victory they had just secured. Judy returned the expression, her own grin lingering as she strode past, a silent promise of more triumphs ahead.

The transition from the high-energy pitch to the locker room’s relaxed aftermath was almost jarring. The air inside was warm, thick with the mingling scents of sweat and turf, but the tension of competition had already dissolved into easy laughter and idle chatter. Some players were already out of their uniforms, slipping into casual clothes, while others stretched out on benches, recounting their favorite plays of the match. It was a scene she had experienced countless times, yet it never lost its charm.

Judy let herself soak it in - the low hum of voices, the buzz, the occasional burst of laughter, the quiet sound of cleats being stowed away. This was her world, the place she belonged. And tonight, everything in it felt right.

“Congratulations, ladies.”

Rogue’s voice cut through the noise, and just like that, the room quieted. The coach’s presence was enough to command attention, even when her tone carried that familiar edge of dry humor.

“But don’t get too comfortable,” she continued, arms crossed, eyes sweeping over the team. “That was the easiest of our opponents. Save the real celebrations for when it actually counts.” There was a pause, her expression softening just slightly. “Get back to the hotel, cool down, get some rest. We regroup tomorrow—quick session in the gym after breakfast. The bus is waiting outside. You’ve got ten minutes.”

Then, just before turning, Rogue’s gaze flickered toward Judy, and a smirk played at her lips.

“The bus will make another round in an hour,” she added, her voice teasing, “for Alvy, and any other stragglers.”

Judy smiled, shaking her head. Rogue knew her well. The post-match haze always clung to her a little longer, kept her from moving on as quickly as the others. The coach never pushed, never questioned it. Rogue’s subtle nod to her post-game routine wasn’t just a casual gesture - it was a recognition of the unspoken trust between them. She just gave her space, knowing Judy would return when she was ready. And tonight, Judy thought, as she finally sat on the bench and reached for the laces of her cleats, she wasn’t in a rush to leave the glow of victory just yet.

The locker room had emptied slowly, teammates trickling out one by one, voices fading into the dimly lit corridors beyond. Judy took her time, as she always did, relishing these quiet moments after the storm of the match. There was something sacred about this - the ritual of winding down, the deliberate slowness of it, the way the adrenaline still hummed beneath her skin, refusing to be subdued so easily.

She peeled off her jersey and underwear, the fabric damp with sweat and victory, and reached for a towel, savoring the plush warmth as she wrapped it around herself. The echoes of the game still rang in her ears - the deafening roar of the crowd, the rhythmic chant of her name, the pulse of the stadium lights burning into her memory. But beneath all of that, there was something else, something more personal. The weight of a particular gaze following her across the field, the knowing glint in steel-gray eyes that saw her in ways no one else did.

Judy turned, glancing around the room, expecting at least a few teammates to still be lingering as well, but found only one other figure remaining. Certain blue-haired striker.

She stood by her locker, also wrapped in a towel, hair still damp, strands curling at the ends as they clung to her bare shoulders. She met Judy’s gaze without hesitation, and for a moment, neither of them moved, the silence between them thick and brimming with something unspoken. Val’s smirk was subtle, but unmistakable, mirroring the one that played at the corner of Judy’s lips.

The realization settled over Judy in a slow, delicious wave - they were alone now. Just the two of them, no hurried footsteps in the hall, no lingering voices from the others. The locker room was theirs.

Judy felt the shift in the air, as if someone had turned up the thermostat suddenly - thick with warmth and the ghost of anticipation. She tilted her head slightly. “Looks like it’s just us,” she said, her voice a soft invitation.

Valerie leaned back against the lockers, her posture easy, but there was something sharper beneath the surface, something barely restrained. “Seems like everyone else was in a rush to get out.”

Judy shrugged, feigning nonchalance, but the way she took a step closer betrayed her. Her fingers brushed, light as air, against Valerie’s bare arm, the briefest touch, but enough to send a current crackling through her veins. The silence between them felt charged, a lingering tension thrumming beneath the surface.

“Not everyone knows how to savor the moment,” Judy said softly, her voice dipping lower, carrying more weight than the words themselves. A promise wrapped in silk.

Valerie’s gaze never wavered, never faltered. If anything, it darkened, sharpening into something nearly tangible. “Lucky for us,” she murmured, “we do.”

Judy held that gaze for one lingering second longer before turning toward the showers, a slow sway in her step, deliberate, measured. The soft rustle of her towel was nearly lost in the stillness of the room, but she knew Valerie could hear it. More than that - she knew Valerie was watching. The weight of her gaze was electric, burning through Judy’s skin like a physical touch. It sent a thrill down her spine, her breath catching in her throat as she reached the shower and let the towel slip from her shoulders. The fabric pooled lazily before coming to rest, leaving nothing between her and the open air. She stepped into the shower, fingers twisting the dial, and let the warm cascade of water trace its way down her skin.

She didn’t pull the curtain closed. She left it open - a silent invitation, an unspoken dare.

She sensed Valerie before she felt her - the shift of air, the presence so familiar it sent a shiver down her spine. The sensation was almost palpable, as though an invisible thread drew them together with an irresistible pull. Then - warm hands, rough in all the ways Judy loved, slid around her waist, drawing her backward into solid heat. The contact sent a sharp jolt of pleasure rippling through her, her breath stuttering as she leaned into the embrace, surrendering to the feeling, allowing herself to be enveloped by the comforting warmth of Valerie’s body pressed against hers.

Steam curled around them, blurring the edges of the world, leaving only the press of bare skin against bare skin, the slick slide of Valerie’s body molded against her own. Judy bit her lip as she felt Val’s hardened nipples drag against her back, the friction sending another wave of heat pooling low in her stomach. Valerie’s fingers traced idly over her abdomen, teasing at the edges of her ribs before skimming higher, ghosting over her breasts without committing.

Judy let out a breathy sigh, tilting her head back, resting it against Valerie’s shoulder. A single pinch at her nipple sent her hips jerking forward, a sharp, delicious ache spreading through her body like wildfire.

“You know,” Judy murmured, her voice carrying the faintest tremor, “we’ve got plenty of time before the bus comes back. Any plans for the next hour?”

Valerie didn’t answer with words - not at first. Instead, she leaned in, her lips brushing against the delicate curve of Judy’s neck. The flick of her tongue traced along the sensitive skin before her teeth grazed the flesh, biting down just enough to make Judy gasp. Heat bloomed beneath the surface, radiating outward, sending a ripple of need through her.

When Valerie finally spoke, her voice was a low, sultry whisper, laced with promise. "I’ve got a few ideas."

Judy exhaled a quiet laugh, her amusement mingling with the steam-heavy air. Shifting in the cramped space, she turned to face the blue-haired woman fully, drinking in the sight of her. Valerie was stunning under the harsh fluorescent lights, her body gleaming with a soft sheen of moisture, the contours of her muscles accentuated by the dim, flickering glow. Judy’s fingers, trembling with anticipation, slid along her waist, tracing upward, feeling the shiver that danced through her teammate’s body.

Their gazes locked, and for a brief moment, the world beyond the shower stall ceased to exist. Judy leaned in, her lips brushing against Valerie’s in a kiss that was both tender and fervent, filled with unspoken words and unrestrained desire. The tension that had coiled within her loosened, giving way to something deeper, something intoxicating. They had fought for this moment, earned this celebration. It felt infinite, stretching out before Judy finally pulled back, her breath ragged and her cheeks flushed with a vibrant flush.

“I’ll make you feel good,” Valerie whispered, her voice roughened by want. The kiss that followed was anything but gentle - brimming with hunger, with devotion, with the kind of urgency that left no room for doubt. “Because you deserve it, Captain. For such an amazing performance."

And she made good on that promise.

Valerie was already halfway dressed, the snug V-neck settling over her frame like a second skin, clinging in ways that still made Judy's breath hitch. The denim of her jeans sat low on her hips as she adjusted the waistband, her movements slow, unhurried. With one hand, she raked damp fingers through the wild mess of her hair, tousling it without care, and Judy could still see the red mark at the side of her neck, a brand she left.

Just minutes ago, Judy had unraveled beneath her touch - come undone against Valerie’s mouth, shattered into something raw and breathless. The release - unexpected and all-consuming – left her weightless in its wake. It was the kind of pleasure that left no room for thought, only sensation - pure, uninhibited, freeing. Even now, warmth pulsed faintly through her veins, a quiet hum beneath her skin.

And she couldn’t stop smiling.

She forced herself to look away, biting back the urge to just watch. Instead, she reached for her flannel, the fabric soft and familiar as she pulled it over her shoulders. She rolled up the sleeves just so, giving her hands something to do, grounding herself in the simple rhythm of it. But even as she moved, her mind kept circling back to something else, something that had been pressing at the edges of her thoughts since before the match.

A fleeting image. Valerie, standing alone, speaking in hushed tones, the weight in her voice something just shy of tense. The name had slipped past her lips like a ghost - Johnny. It had stuck with Judy, lingering beneath the surface, even through the post-match rush, even through the tangle of limbs and whispered touches that followed. Even now, in the afterglow, it sat there, an unanswered question pressing against her ribs.

“Hey, Val,” Judy began, breaking the comfortable quiet that had settled between them. Her voice was steady, but there was curiosity woven into it, the need to understand. “Can I ask you something? It’s about earlier.”

Valerie glanced up, mid-adjustment, her fingers stilling against the hem of her hoodie. Her expression remained open, unguarded, an easy warmth in her gaze. “Yeah, of course.”

Judy hesitated, rolling the thought over in her mind before setting it free. “I overheard you talking before the match. In the showers. You mentioned someone—Johnny. I didn’t quite catch the details, but it sounded like you two were having a pretty intense conversation.” She tilted her head, searching the blue-haired woman’s face. “Who is he?”

Valerie’s eyes momentarily shadowed with an enigmatic flicker before she offered a gentle, reassuring smile. “He’s just a persistent nuisance,” she said lightly, almost nonchalantly, but there was a weight beneath her words, a subtle depth of frustration and resignation. “Takes up space in my head without paying rent. And he always shows up at the worst damn times.” She exhaled, shaking her head slightly. “When I said I needed to sort things out—that’s exactly what I meant.”

Judy frowned, her thoughts tangling in the cryptic response. A thousand questions surfaced, each one reaching for clarity, but before she could voice any of them, something shifted. A single, jarring detail cut through the haze. A thin, dark trail of red.

Judy’s breath caught. “Val, you’re bleeding.”

The words left her in a rush, her voice sharp with sudden alarm. Her hand shot out, pointing to the thin line of blood slipping from Valerie’s nose, stark against the pale of her skin.

Valerie blinked, her expression briefly unreadable before her fingers lifted in delayed realization. She touched the warmth spreading beneath her nostril, and for a second, her brows knit in confusion. Then the shift happened - subtle, but unmistakable. The tension in her shoulders coiled tighter. Her breath, once steady, turned sharp, uneven. She swayed, barely perceptible at first, but then she reached for the lockers, bracing herself against the cold metal as her body betrayed her.

Judy’s instincts surged to the forefront, overriding her initial confusion. She moved before she could think. “Hey, hey, sit down,” she urged, already steadying Val as she guided her onto the bench.

The playful, post-match, post-orgasm ease had evaporated, replaced by heavy, urgent tension. Concern sharpened into focus, her every sense attuned to the way Valerie’s breaths came in stilted gasps, the way she cradled her head in shaking hands. Her fingers gripped and tugged at her hair with a wild, desperate force, the motion raw and frantic, a visceral display of inner torment.

She had never seen her like this.

Valerie was always composed, always in control, even in the most chaotic of moments. But now, watching her pull at her hair, her hands shaking, her body taut with something deeper than pain, Judy felt her own heart clench. This wasn’t just exhaustion. It wasn’t just some lingering ache from the match or old injury. This was something else. Something unseen, creeping beneath the surface.

Judy crouched in front of the blue-haired woman, positioning herself between her legs, shortening the distance between them. Without hesitation, she reached for Valerie’s hands, gently prying them away from her tangled hair, guiding them instead to rest against her own chest. A silent reassurance, a grounding touch, force aimed at calming Valerie’s swirling emotions.

“Baby, look at me,” Judy whispered, her voice steady despite the worry threading through it.

Valerie’s gaze was wild, flitting between the floor, the ceiling - anywhere but her. But Judy held firm, squeezing her hands just enough to anchor her.

“I’m right here,” she whispered. “Stay with me.”

Gradually, Valerie’s breathing evened out, each rise and fall of her chest becoming steadier, more measured, though Judy could still feel the tremors in her fingers where their hands remained clasped. The worst had passed, but the aftershocks lingered, reflected in Valerie’s stormy eyes - worn, haunted, sad. When they met Judy’s, when they finally held onto something steady, a fragile relief flickered in them. She was grounding herself in Judy’s presence, pulling herself back from whatever abyss had threatened to swallow her whole.

Judy didn’t let go. She held onto Valerie’s hands, keeping her grip solid but tender, her thumbs tracing over the rough callouses of Val’s knuckles in slow, deliberate strokes. She wanted her to feel it, the reassurance, the unspoken vow. That she was there, and she wasn’t going anywhere. No matter the storm.

“You scared the shit out of me,” Judy murmured, her voice barely above a breath, the remnants of fear still clinging to her words.

Valerie’s lips curled into a smile, but it was thin, wavering, more muscle memory than genuine ease. It didn’t reach her eyes. It was the kind of smile people wore when they were trying to reassure someone else that everything was fine, even when they had nothing left to give themselves. And fuck, Judy hated seeing it on her.

Then Val lifted a trembling hand, brushing the back of her fingers against Judy’s cheek - a featherlight touch, tentative, like she needed to make sure Judy was real. That this was real. Judy caught her wrist before she could pull away, pressing her palm flush against her own cheek and kissing her wrist, anchoring her there.

“No,” she said, shaking her head, her voice firmer now as she sensed Valerie's inclination to deflect with a casual quip. “No way, fuck no. You’re not dodging this one, Val. What’s going on?”

Valerie hesitated. Judy felt it in the way her fingers twitched, in the way her throat bobbed with the effort of swallowing down whatever she didn’t want to say. Her gaze flickered away, drifting to the lockers around them, to the scuffed floor beneath them - anywhere but Judy’s eyes.

“I…” A pause, a breath. Then, finally, “I have these episodes sometimes.” The words came out quiet, halting, as if admitting them out loud gave them more weight. “Haven’t had one in a while.” She exhaled, something like regret shadowing her expression. “I’m sorry you had to see me like this. Sorry I scared you.”

Judy’s fingers tightened around hers. “What triggers them?”

Val’s jaw tensed. “It’s this damaged chip in my head,” she said, and for the first time, her voice cracked. Not much, just a hairline fracture, but Judy felt it like a goddamn fault line splitting open. A single tear slipped down Valerie’s cheek, and before she could think, Judy was reaching up, brushing it away with her thumb, cradling her face in her hands.

Valerie sucked in a breath, shaking her head slightly. “What you saw… it was a glitch.” The last word came out hoarse, nearly inaudible. “I’m working on fixing it. But it’s not that easy.”

Judy searched her face, taking in every flicker of pain, every ounce of exhaustion carved into the sharp lines of her features. It fucking hurt to see her like this. To hear that in her voice.

“Is there anything I can do?” she asked, and there was an urgency to it, a desperate need to do something, to fix what was breaking Valerie from the inside out. “Anything at all, Val?”

Valerie’s eyes met hers, tired but grateful. “No,” she whispered. “Just you bein’ here is enough.” Her lips twitched slightly, something softer, something more real this time. “Thank you, Jude.” She hesitated, then sighed. “Would you help me get to the bus? I’m still a little dizzy. I need to sleep it off.”

Judy didn’t need to be asked twice. She pressed a quick, reassuring kiss to Valerie’s lips - just a whisper of contact, a fleeting promise that she’d be right there, no matter what. Then she moved, shouldering her teammate’s duffel bag along with her own, looping an arm around the blue-haired woman’s waist as she pulled her to her feet. Valerie didn’t fight it. She leaned into Judy, letting her take some of the weight, her arm draped heavily over her shoulders. Step by step, they made their way through the winding corridors of the stadium, the world around them blurred by the dim artificial light and the hush of midnight stillness.

When they reached the bus, Judy carefully eased Valerie down into one of the seats, watching as she slumped back with a sigh, exhaustion finally catching up to her. And then, without hesitation, Valerie turned her head, resting it against Judy’s shoulder as if it was second nature. Judy stilled for a moment, then let herself relax into it, pressing a slow, gentle kiss against Valerie’s temple. The scent of soap and something uniquely Valerie’s filled Judy’s senses as she let her lips linger against blue strands of hair, her fingers moving instinctively to comb through them in slow, soothing, loving strokes.

The weight of the moment settled heavily in her chest. She had never felt like this before. Her feelings for Valerie were overwhelming, unlike anything she had ever experienced before. It wasn’t just the intensity of it - it was the sheer depth, the way it coiled around her ribs and settled into her bones, into her marrow, leaving her raw in a way that almost terrified her. There was something about this woman, something that cracked Judy wide open, made her feel seen in a way she never had before.

And she wanted to protect her. With everything she had.

But beneath that need, beneath the fierce protectiveness curling in her gut, was fear. A gnawing, insidious fear that burrowed into her thoughts like a splinter beneath the skin.

What the hell was happening to Valerie? Judy’s mind raced, questions tumbling over one another like dominoes, ricocheting through her mind like a stray bullet. Was this because of the FIA? Had they done something to her? Was it something that could be controlled, or was it unpredictable and dangerous - something that could strike at any moment? And that chip in Valerie’s head - what exactly was on it? How long had she been dealing with this? How much was she not telling her?

Judy swallowed hard, forcing herself to push the questions aside. Now wasn’t the time. Valerie needed rest. Answers could wait until she was back on her feet.

Outside, the bus rumbled to life, pulling away from the stadium, but Judy barely noticed. Her world, right now, was here - wrapped in the quiet rise and fall of Valerie’s breath, in the warmth of her weight against her, in the unspoken promise that, whatever happened next, Judy wasn’t going anywhere.

She stayed. Held her close. Let her fingers stroke through Valerie’s hair in slow, rhythmic motions, her touch steady even as her thoughts roiled with unease.

Chapter Text

Chapter XIII | Running Up That Hill 
Do you wanna know, know that it doesn't hurt me?

The walk back to their room was steeped in silence, the kind that stretched heavy between them, filled with thoughts too tangled to voice. The late hour worked in their favor, shielding them from prying eyes. No curious glances from teammates, no questions they weren’t ready to answer. Only the night clerk at the front desk bore quiet witness to their return, and Judy felt a small surge of relief at the lack of an audience.

Valerie moved on her own, but just barely. Her steps, though determined, were unsteady, her balance betrayed by exhaustion and whatever lingering effects still clung to her. Judy hovered close, her palm resting against the small of Valerie’s back, fingers pressing lightly - there, but not overbearing, ready to catch her at the first sign of weakness.

By the time they reached their room, the stillness of the night had settled deep within its walls. Shadows stretched long and soft, cast by the faint glow of the bedside lamp, wrapping them in a quiet cocoon. Judy guided Valerie to the bed with care, her touch deliberate, reverent in its tenderness. She said nothing as she helped peel away the layers of clothing. Valerie didn’t resist - she barely reacted, save for the slow, unsteady rise and fall of her chest. Fatigue clung to her in a way that made Judy’s heart ache. Her eyelids drooped, struggling to stay open. It was clear that glitch – as she called it - had drained her, sapping what little strength she had left.

As soon as she eased her down onto the mattress, Valerie surrendered. The moment her head met the pillow, she was gone - pulled under by the kind of deep, dreamless sleep that only came when the body had finally given up resisting.

Judy lingered beside the bed, kneeling there in the quiet hush of the room, watching the slow, steady cadence of Val’s breathing. She reached out without thinking, fingertips ghosting along the contours of Valerie’s face - the slope of her nose, the sharp but softened lines of her jaw, the slight parting of her lips as she slept. Her touch was barely there, a whisper against skin, as if she could commit every detail to memory, as if mapping out the features she already knew by heart would somehow soothe her.

A knot tightened in her chest, heavy with all the things she didn’t know. The questions swarmed again, relentless, pressing in on her with suffocating urgency, but the answers remained elusive. What was happening to Val? Could they do anything to stop it? Would she be able to help somehow? And that - more than anything - was what scared her. The helplessness of it. The way it echoed too closely to a pain she had already lived through once.

Judy sighed, slow and deep. She needed rest, even if her mind refused to quiet. She stripped down, pulled on a fresh t-shirt, and slipped under the covers with deliberate care, shifting until she was pressed against Valerie’s back. One arm wound around her, drawing her in, anchoring them together. The warmth of her body, the steady, rhythmic rise and fall of her chest, the quiet little exhales that ghosted over Judy’s arm - all silent reassurances.

She pressed a gentle kiss to the nape of Valerie’s neck, then another, and another. Small, tender offerings. Wordless promises.

Judy closed her eyes, let their breathing sync, tried to let it comfort her. But sleep did not come. Instead, memories crept in, dark and unwanted, threading through the fragile quiet.

Blood dripping from the edge of her bathtub. A lifeless body. A friend she hadn’t been able to save. The scent of antiseptic, the way cold fingers had slipped through her grasp.

The voices came next. The dangerous voices she had long pushed to the back of her mind. They began to resurface, their venomous whispers clawing at her peace.

You’re just going to watch her die.

You’re too weak to help.

You should run before you lose her like the last one.

Judy clenched her jaw, her arm tightening around Valerie hoping sheer will alone could banish the ghosts in her head.

She wasn’t running. No matter what came next, no matter how much it hurt, she would face it. She would fight for Valerie, even if Valerie refused to fight for herself. And as the night stretched on, with doubt and devotion warring inside her, she held onto the only thing that felt real - the warmth of the woman in her arms, the quiet steadiness of her breath, the small, fragile certainty that Valerie was still here.

Judy awoke in the dead of night, her senses reaching instinctively for the warmth of Valerie’s body beside her. But instead of soft skin and steady breath, her searching hand met only the cool sheets. The emptiness jolted her awake, a pulse of unease tightening in her chest as she blinked against the darkness. Propping herself up on one elbow, her eyes darted around the room, adjusting to the faint glow of the city bleeding through the curtains. Before she could call out, she heard the sound of footsteps padding back toward the bed. Valerie’s silhouette emerged from the shadows, barely more than a shape against the weak light filtering in.

“I’ll be right back,” she whispered, voice low and careful, as if she didn’t want to wake her at all. She leaned down, brushing a kiss over Judy’s lips, the contact brief but deliberate, lingering just enough to soothe, to distract. “Just need to sort something out. Go back to sleep, okay?”

Judy, still disoriented and groggy, managed only a slow nod. For a moment, she let herself sink back into the sheets, lulled by the steady assurance in Val’s voice. But something gnawed at the edges of her mind, a prickling discomfort that wouldn’t let her settle. The way Valerie had moved - careful, controlled - set off alarms in Judy’s head. And the quiet click of the door closing behind her sent a pulse of cold realization through her veins.

Valerie had been so fragile just hours earlier, barely standing on her own, her body worn down by whatever storm had been tormenting her. And now she was going out, alone, into the city’s depths? Panic curled its fingers around Judy’s throat, squeezing tight. Without thinking, she threw the covers aside and swung her legs over the edge of the bed, hands shaking as she grabbed her jeans. She pulled them on in hurried, frantic motions, not bothering to button them fully before yanking her jacket over her shoulders. The zipper was forgotten, left undone in her rush.

She bolted for the door, heart hammering against her ribs. The hallway was deathly quiet. Too quiet. Valerie was already gone. Judy’s pulse quickened as she reached the elevator, eyes flicking to the display. The numbers were already counting down, each one a step further out of reach.

“Shit,” she hissed under her breath, spinning toward the stairwell.

The heavy door groaned as she pushed through, and then she was sprinting down the steps two at a time, her breath coming sharp and ragged in the cold, stale air. Her mind raced faster than her feet, each second stretching unbearably as she fought to catch up before it was too late.

By the time she crashed through the lobby doors and out into the chill of the night, her lungs burned, her heartbeat a frantic drum against her ribs. Her eyes scanned the empty streets, searching. And then she saw her. Valerie’s silhouette was a ghost against the faint glow of the city, her blue hair barely catching the light as she moved with purpose toward the darker, more dangerous parts of Barcelona.

Judy’s breath caught, her feet itching to run after her, but something made her hesitate. Valerie didn’t look weak. She didn’t look like someone barely holding herself together. No, she moved with the same quiet confidence, the same steady grace that had drawn Judy to her from the start. It was as if the storm from earlier had settled, leaving behind a woman who knew exactly what she was walking into.

And yet, the unease gnawed deeper, her instincts buzzing with unease. Judy couldn’t shake the feeling that whatever Valerie was stepping into, it wasn’t something she should be facing alone. But instead of calling out, instead of rushing in blind, Judy hung back. She decided to follow Valerie from a distance, to observe and understand what was really going on before making her presence known. If Valerie could play her dangerous games, then Judy could play the spy.

She followed at a careful distance, her body thrumming with adrenaline. The city’s empty streets stretched before them, a labyrinth of dimly lit intersections and dark alleys. Valerie weaved through them with practiced ease, her form slipping between shadows like a wraith. Judy kept close, ducking behind corners, her every step measured, her every breath quieted by the steady hum of city that was about to wake up soon.

Then, after what felt like an eternity of silent pursuit, Valerie finally stopped. Judy pressed herself against the cold metal of a dumpster, breath tight in her chest, peering past its rusted edge. An old basketball court stretched before her, long abandoned, its cracked pavement riddled with weeds and forgotten memories. The rusted hoops stood like skeletal remains of something that once pulsed with life, backboards scarred by time and streaked with graffiti - faded declarations of names and loves and threats, all swallowed by the city’s indifference.

The night wrapped around Judy like a second skin, pressing in close, sharpening every sound, every movement. She slipped behind the bleachers, fingers ghosting over metal slick with condensation, the scent of rust and damp wood curling in the air. Each breath she took was slow, measured, barely more than a whisper against the hush. The weak light from a distant streetlamp did little to cut through the gloom, leaving the space in a half-world between shadow and clarity. From her concealed vantage point, she watched, pulse thrumming in her ears, trying to understand what Val was doing here.

Valerie moved with purpose, her steps unhurried but deliberate as she strode toward the court’s center. In the near silence, the soft scuff of her boots against the pavement was deafening. Then, with a flick of her wrist - a practiced motion - she produced a cigarette, and for the briefest moment, the spark of her lighter illuminated her face. Sharp angles, tired eyes, lips pressed into something too tight to be a smirk, too defiant to be a frown. The ember burned as she took a slow drag, painting her features in warm, flickering hues before the darkness swallowed her up again. Smoke curled lazily from her lips, twisting into the air, vanishing like whispers. She exhaled, slow and steady, shoulders lowering ever so slightly, as though trying to release something heavier than breath.

Perhaps her secrets.

Judy barely had time to process the shift in the air before another figure emerged from the shadows. He didn’t step into the light so much as he materialized from the dark, moving with a grace that felt both calculated and effortless. It seemed like he belonged to the night, like he was as much a part of the night as the creeping mist or the distant hum of the city beyond.

The faint glow of a streetlamp caught on his coat, leather sleek and well-worn, tracing the broad lines of his shoulders. As he approached, the ember of Valerie’s cigarette momentarily revealed the sharp features of his face - dark eyes like twin blades cutting through the night, high cheekbones, a mouth set in something just shy of amusement. Light and shadow played tricks casting him in an air of quiet menace, the kind that wasn’t just an impression but a certainty. This wasn’t a man who hesitated. This was a man who had seen things, done things, and walked away unscathed.

Judy swallowed hard. There was weight in his presence. Authority. The kind that made her gut twist in uneasy recognition.

Valerie turned to face him, her body language shifting - something caught between guarded familiarity and reluctant expectation. A beat passed before she spoke. “Sol,” she greeted, exhaling smoke. “Glad you could make it.”

Judy went rigid. That name. Sol. Solomon Reed. FIA agent. Val’s former supervisor. Her fists clenched, nails digging into her palms. This wasn’t some whispered deal in a back alley. This wasn’t a meeting for the sake of old friends catching up. This was something else. Something bigger. Something dangerous.

The man nodded, slow and deliberate. “V,” he acknowledged, voice rough like sandpaper, laced with detached ease. His gaze flickered to the cigarette between her fingers, something knowing in the way he looked at it. “I see you’re picking up a few of your construct’s more questionable habits.”

Valerie took another drag. The ember burned bright, then dimmed to nothing as she flicked the cigarette to the ground, crushing it beneath her heel with finality. “Yeah, well. I need blockers. Nearly flatlined yesterday,” Val said as she crossed her arms, tilting her head. “If this reckless plan of yours is gonna work, I need to survive the tournament.”

Reed hummed, unimpressed, before tossing something into the air - a small bottle, the pills inside rattling as it spun. Valerie caught it mid-flight - too fast, too smooth, her reflexes impossibly sharp.

Judy’s stomach twisted. She had seen Valerie in pain, watched as something unseen and insidious wracked her from the inside out. Hours ago, she had been swaying on unsteady legs, barely able to stand under the weight of exhaustion, her body betraying her at every turn. And now… here she was, moving as if nothing had happened, as if she hadn’t just been knocking on death’s door. Her body was steady, her movements precise, her reaction time almost unnatural. Judy’s fingers dug into the metal bleachers beneath her, gripping them hard, as if grounding herself would somehow help her make sense of it all. Was it her implants that restored her so quickly? Some enhancement buried beneath layers of synthskin?

"Remember, we need you to complete the scan before the final whistle," the dark-skinned agent said, arms crossed over his chest, his voice edged with cold impatience. He stood like a man accustomed to being obeyed, every inch of him calculated control.

Valerie sighed, frustration bleeding into her tone. "I’m well aware, Sol. I also know metanthropic tech takes time to process. So, let’s walk through this scenario together, yeah? Imagine the match actually happens—which we don’t even know for sure yet. But let’s say it does. And by the time the final whistle blows, I’ve only managed to scan, what? Eighty percent? I know that leaves you with a worthless fragment of data, keeps you from carrying out your dirty business. But what does that mean for me?"

Reed didn’t blink. "You know exactly what it means, V."

Judy’s breath hitched. Something was wrong. More wrong than she’d thought. Val had lied. FIA still had their claws in her. They hadn't let her go - not really. And this wasn’t just another job, just another task Valerie had been strong-armed into. There was something else beneath the surface, something lethal.

Valerie’s lips curled into a humorless smirk, but there was no amusement in it, only barely contained fury. "Yeah, I think I do. But unlike you, I haven’t forgotten the promises you made to Songbird and me." Her voice sharpened, laced with venom. "You told us no one would be left behind. That we’d be taken care of. But here I am, with a goddamn tumor named Johnny clawing his way through my skull, killing me, and all you care about is getting your fucking scan. Just like you didn’t care when they took So Mi."

Judy’s entire body went cold. The words hit like a gut punch, leaving her breathless. Valerie was dying. Not just exhausted, not just hurt - dying. And it wasn’t some slow, inevitable fate. It was the chip. The same one she had mentioned last night, brushed off like it was just another problem in the long list of shit she had to deal with. Judy suspected it, but now… now she knew the truth. Knew that whatever was inside Valerie’s head wasn’t just some malfunctioning piece of tech. It was killing her. And… Johnny? Who the hell was Johnny?

“I’m doing something about it,” Reed snapped, his voice cutting through the weighted silence. “I’m offering you a chance. Despite the fact that you landed yourself in this mess. You turned your back on us, remember? I found you, V. Lied for you. You know there’s nothing more I can offer.”

Valerie let out a quiet, mirthless chuckle, shaking her head. "You’re a joke, Reed," she muttered. "Another fucking puppet, dancing on Myers’ strings."

"Maybe I am," he admitted, stepping closer, his posture rigid, his presence imposing. "But I’m not the one staring death in the face. I wasn’t the one who came crawling back, begging for help. You’ve changed. You’re weak now, V. A shadow of the person I trained."

Valerie lifted her chin, something bitter and sharp in her expression, something almost - proud. "And thank fuckin’ gods for that," she murmured, her voice quieter now, but no less cutting. "I hated that monster."

Judy barely registered the next moment before the cold press of metal met the small of her back.

A gun.

The sensation of it, the unyielding weight of steel against her spine, sent a jolt of ice through her veins. The world around her slowed to a dull hum, Valerie and Reed’s voices fading into the background as terror surged in her chest. She didn’t dare move. Didn’t dare breathe.

"Eavesdropping on private conversations isn’t very polite, is it?"

The voice slithered through the darkness, smooth and mocking, its tone almost amused. Judy’s mind scrambled to match it to a face, fear clouded her thoughts, warping everything into a sick blur of panic and disorientation. It was familiar - that much she knew - but her brain refused to supply the details, as though it was shielding her from some unspoken horror.

Then, without warning, rough hands seized the collar of her jacket and yanked her forward. She stumbled, feet catching uselessly against the cracked pavement, and was shoved toward the rusting frame of an abandoned basketball hoop. The impact rattled through her bones, stole the breath from her lungs.

Heads snapped toward her. The tension thickened, suffocating, pressing in like a vice. Solomon’s expression darkened as he took her in, the flicker of emotion behind his eyes shifting from irritation to something colder, something ominous. But it was Valerie’s reaction that made Judy’s stomach twist. Gone was the detached anger from before. In its place were disbelief and confusion. Then dread. She stared at Judy with wide, searching eyes, fingers twitching at her sides as if she was holding herself back from lunging forward.

Judy could barely hear over the pounding of her own heart. Her breath came in shallow, uneven bursts, her body caught in that agonizing limbo between fight and flight.

Then she saw her. The woman holding the gun. Recognition hit her like a freight train, knocking the air from her lungs all over again, leaving her momentarily paralyzed.

Daphne Jones. Washington Aces’ midfielder. Her teammate. Her goddamn teammate. Another fuckin' one.

Judy’s lips parted in disbelief, her pulse hammering against her throat. She stared at her, waiting - praying - for some sign that this was a mistake, that this was some twisted misunderstanding. But Daphne’s eyes were flat, detached. The gun in her hand remained steady, unwavering.

“A tail,” Reed remarked, voice cool and vaguely amused. “You’re getting sloppy, V.”

Valerie moved right away. She stepped in front of Judy, placing herself between her and the barrel of the gun with the kind of reckless instinct that made Judy’s stomach turn. Suddenly, Valerie’s hands were on her, skimming over her arms, her sides, checking for injury. Her fingers trembled, just slightly, but her touch remained gentle. Finding no immediate wounds, she exhaled sharply, then reached up, cradling Judy’s face between both hands.

“Jude,” she murmured, voice hoarse, something between anger and relief flickering in her storm-gray eyes. “What the hell are you doin’ here?”

Judy tried to answer, but the words got stuck somewhere in her throat.

Reed took a single step forward. His voice, when it came, was devoid of patience. “Speak.”

Judy flinched. She forced herself to swallow the lump, forced her voice to work despite the way her entire body trembled. “I—I followed Valerie,” she stammered, the words spilling out in a rushed, uneven breath. “I wanted to check if… if she was okay after her—her episode.”

Silence.

Valerie turned to face the two agents, her shoulders squared, her entire body braced like a shield. Judy could feel it now - the weight of what she had done. She had been so caught up in her own desperation, in the gnawing worry that wouldn’t let her sleep, that she hadn’t stopped to consider what she might be stepping into. And now, she had walked straight into the heart of Valerie’s world. A world of danger. A world of shadows and unspoken rules. A world she wasn’t supposed to see. Regret curdled in her stomach, sharp and bitter. Anger followed, self-directed and burning hot. She should’ve stayed out of it. Should’ve waited. Should’ve known that some truths were meant to stay buried until morning.

The shift was instant, seamless - so fast that, for a heartbeat, Judy’s mind refused to process what her eyes were seeing. One moment, Daphne stood before her, wearing the same familiar face, the same calm expression, the same measured presence. And then - like a glitch in the fabric of reality - she wasn’t there at all.

A flicker, a distortion, and suddenly the woman in front of her was someone else entirely. Her hair, once a soft gray that framed her face in gentle waves, shortened, sharpened, turned a stark blonde. Her skin darkened, her features reshaped - sharper, more severe, every softness stripped away. Even her eyes, once a muted gray, darkened into something unreadable, something that sent a chill creeping up Judy’s spine.

But the smile. The smile didn’t change. It stayed razor-edged, unwavering, curled at the corners with something that could have been amusement, or perhaps cruelty.

Cyberware. Some kind of high-grade disguise, masking who she really was. And if that mask had just been discarded, then… what about the real Daphne? What had happened to her?

Judy felt the realization hit like a gut punch, knocking the breath from her lungs. Was this the metanthropic tech Val had mentioned? If so… then what did that mean for Valerie? Had she used the same kind of tech? Had Judy ever really seen her - her true self? The thought clawed its way up, filling her chest with anxiety. But she shoved it down, locked it away. She couldn’t afford to get lost in it now. This wasn’t the time.

The woman spoke, and her voice was different too. Colder, more precise, slicing through the thick tension that hung between them. “You know what has to be done,” she said, and her gaze flicked to Reed, who stood beside her like a shadow. “She’s a risk. We need to silence her. We can stage a scene, scatter false evidence—blame it on some local thugs, perhaps.”

Judy barely had time to process what she’d heard before Valerie stepped in, her voice unsteady despite her best efforts to hide it. “This won’t work, Alex,” she said, and Judy saw the way her fists clenched. “If you go down this path, the tournament will be canceled.”

Alex. So, even her name had been a lie.

Reed exhaled, long and slow, his exhaustion palpable as he turned his attention to Judy. His expression carried something different now - something weary, like he was watching a disaster unfold in slow motion. “You stupid girl…” he murmured, shaking his head. “Why did you have to fall for someone like her?”

Judy’s breath hitched, her entire body locked in place, but Valerie stepped forward before she could react, lifting her hands slightly in a gesture of surrender. “Leave her out of this, Sol,” she said, her voice steadier now, more certain. “This is on me.”

Reed’s jaw tightened, his gaze flicking back to her. “Yeah, a colossal fuck-up on your side,” he muttered, but he didn’t sound angry - just resigned. He reached out, pressing a firm hand against Alex’s gun, lowering it with a quiet finality. “Unfortunately, V’s right, we can’t risk it. But we can’t afford loose ends. If she talks, it jeopardizes everything. And your life is already hanging by a thread.”

“I’ll handle it,” Val said, the words careful, deliberate. "She won't breathe a word."

“Make sure of that,” Reed warned. “Otherwise, we’ll have to deal with it the old-fashioned way.”

Judy saw the way Valerie stiffened, saw the way her throat bobbed as she swallowed hard. “It won’t come to that,” she said, but it wasn’t a promise - it was a hope.

Reed didn’t respond right away, just held Valerie’s gaze, searching her face. Then, finally, he spoke, his voice carrying the weight of a decision he didn’t want to make. “For her sake, you’d better be right. Don’t force my hand and make me do something I'll regret.”

Then the two agents were gone, slipping into the darkness like ghosts, their presence lingering in the space they left behind. The air still felt heavy, thick with the weight of unspoken threats.

Valerie turned back to her slowly. Judy was shaking. She didn’t realize it until she saw Valerie’s expression - saw the way her lips parted slightly, her hands twitching like she wanted to reach out but didn’t know if she should. Judy stood trembling, her breath coming in ragged, uneven sobs, her face damp with tears she hadn’t even registered falling. Val took a careful step forward, her movements measured, almost hesitant. Like she was approaching something fragile. Like she knew exactly how close Judy was to breaking. Her body was taut with restraint, her hands open at her sides, but Judy could see the tension rippling beneath her skin. An unspoken plea lingered in her eyes.

Judy took a step back instead, shaking her head, the anger burning just beneath the surface. "What the fuck, Val?" her voice was barely more than a breath, hoarse and fraying at the edges. "I went after you because I was fuckin’ terrified something might’ve happened to you. Just hours ago, you were barely holding yourself together—was that all an act? And then Alex—are you also someone else? What the fuck is happening?"

“It’s complicated,” Valerie murmured. “And no, Jude, I—I'm me. I'm not wearing someone else's face like Alexis. And I’m so sorry you got caught in the middle of it. This mess… it’s on me. But I won't let them—they won’t touch you. I won’t let them hurt you. It’s gonna be okay. I promise.”

For a fleeting moment, she almost believed it. Almost. Because when Valerie spoke like that - low, raw, like an oath etched into her bones - Judy wanted to let herself fall into the comfort of it. Wanted to close her eyes and trust her the way she had before. But then reality came clawing back, the sharp edges of it cutting through the thin veneer of reassurance, and her anger surged past the fear, insistent and undeniable.

Another secret. Another fucking secret. Another thing Val had kept from her, left her in the dark about. She’d promised. No more lies, no more half-truths. But here they were again, standing in the wreckage of yet another broken vow.

“You already broke a promise,” Judy whispered, voice barely holding together. Then, stronger, "You said no more lies, Val. No more hiding shit from me."

Valerie stiffened. “Jude—”

“You fucking promised!” Judy’s voice cracked, the weight of it too much to hold in. “And now I find out like this? That you’re—” She swallowed hard, the words catching in her throat. “That you’re still on their leash? And that you’re—you’re d-dying?”

Valerie exhaled sharply, dragging a hand through her hair, shoulders sinking. "I know, Judy. I know. And I—fuck—I wanted to tell you."

"When?" The word came out sharp, biting. "When were you gonna tell me, Val? When I wake up in the middle of the night to find you stiff and cold next to me? When you drop dead on the pitch during a match? When you say goodbye and pack your bag for another mission? I had to find out from them instead of you. And I had to watch them decide whether or not to put a bullet in my head… So, when were you gonna tell me?!"

"Yesterday," Valerie admitted, the single word thick with regret. "I wanted to tell you yesterday. After the match. But then the relic—it just—" She shook her head. "I kept waiting for a good moment. And then there wasn’t one."

Judy let out a hollow laugh, brittle and sharp. "So what, you were just hoping it’d go away?"

"No," Valerie said quickly. "I just—I fucked up, okay? I was scared. I didn’t know how to tell you. I didn’t—first, I didn’t want to ruin it. That day before the match, it was ours. It was just us, just perfect, and I knew that telling you this would change everything. And then the tournament started, and I didn’t want you thinking about anything but the game. I know I’ve fucked up."

Judy’s breath hitched, her arms wrapping around herself - not against the cold, but to keep herself from reaching for Valerie. Because she wanted to. Even now, even after everything. And that only pissed her off more. “You don’t get to decide that for me,” she muttered. "You don’t get to pick which truths I can handle."

“I know,” Valerie said, her voice had softened, the sharp edges worn down to something almost fragile. “I know. And I’m sorry. It’s—fuck, it’s complicated, Judy. I’m not on their payroll. I’m not one of them anymore. I just need them to help me. To fix this thing I’ve been dealing with. But it comes with a price. I can explain. Please. I wanted to explain for a while, but there just wasn’t a good moment."

And goddamn it, Valerie wasn’t lying. Judy could see it now - the weight of it in her eyes, the crack in her voice. She fought it, fought the way it made her want to ease up, to reach out, but some part of her understood. There was never a good moment to tell someone you were dying. But at the same time - she’d promised. No lies. No more secrets. And yet here they were.

Judy squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, trying to will away the ache blooming behind them. She forced herself to breathe, slow and steady, before finally looking at Valerie again.

"Please, Jude—"

She swallowed hard, forcing herself to stay still this time, to let Valerie reach for her without pulling away. Her breath came uneven, but when she spoke, her voice was steady, sharp with quiet resolve. "Then tell me now," she said. “All of it. No more holding back. I won’t let you lie to me again. This is your last chance, Val.”

A flicker of something crossed Valerie’s storm-gray eyes - vulnerability, fear, something fragile and raw beneath the tough exterior she always wore like armor. For a moment, it seemed like she might retreat again, but then she nodded, exhaling slowly, as if releasing a weight too heavy to carry any longer.

“Come on,” she muttered, her voice quieter now, threaded with a soft, resolute determination. She glanced around at the empty court, the oppressive silence lingering in the wake of what had just unfolded. “Not here. I’ll tell you everything, just… not here.”

Judy barely had time to process before Valerie took her hand, gripping it tightly, grounding her in the midst of everything that still felt too uncertain. Without another word, they left the court behind, stepping out of the long, stretching shadows and into the cool night air. The city lights flickered in the distance, but ahead of them, the sound of waves lapping against the shore grew louder, a steady pulse against the silence.

The beach. Her safe place. One of the places where she had ever truly felt like she could breathe. Valerie knew, she remembered.  

By the time they reached the shore, the world had stretched open around them - wide, endless, free. The moon hung low over the ocean, silver light rippling across the water, illuminating the sand beneath their feet. The salty breeze carried the scent of the ocean, crisp and clean, a stark contrast to the suffocating weight of what they had left behind. Valerie led her down toward the water’s edge. The openness of the space - the vast sky overhead, the endless horizon stretching out in front of them - offered something close to peace. Or at least, the illusion of it.

“Here,” the blue-haired woman murmured, her voice softened by something almost tender as she settled beside Judy in the damp sand. The tension between them hadn’t disappeared, but here, away from everything, it didn’t feel quite as sharp.

Judy sat still for a long moment, staring out at the water, the weight of unspoken words pressing against her ribs. She could still feel the sting of tears on her cheeks, but she wiped them away absently with the sleeve of her jacket, her movements slow, tired. She shifted closer without thinking, drawn in by the warmth of Valerie’s body against the cool night air.

And then, just like that, Valerie’s arm curled around her shoulders, pulling her in. No hesitation, no second-guessing. A simple, quiet gesture. Judy let herself lean into it. She felt the press of lips against her temple - a fleeting touch, a reassurance.

And maybe this time, Valerie would keep her word. 

Chapter Text

Chapter XIV | Love Lies
Underneath the sunrise show me where your love lies.

The armory smelled of oil and dust, a heavy metallic tang that clung to the air like an unshakable ghost. Dim light flickered off the scattered mess of weapons, half-disassembled guns, ammo cases stacked haphazardly, tools left where she’d last used them. It was a fitting backdrop, cold and utilitarian, a reflection of the task at hand.

Valerie sat hunched over her laptop, fingers moving in mechanical precision across the worn keyboard. Lines of encrypted intel scrolled past her vision - Militech’s latest maneuvers, backdoor dealings, shifting alliances. A tangled web of corporate warfare, each thread drawing tighter around her neck, constricting.

Her temples throbbed, a dull, unrelenting ache that had settled behind her eyes hours ago. She blinked against the blur creeping in at the edges of her vision, but the words on the screen still swam together, indistinct, meaningless. The sheer weight of it all pressed against her chest, the relentless cycle of digging, sneaking around, analyzing, sending off reports to parties she barely trusted. The act had become second nature - necessary, but draining.

She exhaled, a slow, weary breath, and leaned back in her chair. The emptiness of the room settled around her, thick as fog. It was as if every ounce of energy had been siphoned from her body, leaving only the shell of someone who had been running on fumes for far too long. Running a hand through her hair, she let her fingers dig into her scalp, a feeble attempt to ground herself, to chase away the hollow numbness creeping in at the edges.

But it was too much. The betrayals. The blood on her hands. The never-ending blur of information and obligations. The weight of the past. She couldn’t do it anymore. All she wanted was distance - distance from the desk, distance from the cold, sterile walls of the armory, distance from the FIA.

She shut the laptop with a soft, decisive snap and pushed herself out of the chair. The report was sent. Whatever happened next was out of her hands. She drifted out into the living area, her body moving more on autopilot than conscious intent. The space was familiar, comfortable in a way that felt distant tonight. She collapsed onto the couch, the worn cushions swallowing her, molding to the shape of her exhaustion. The low hum of the apartment filled the silence, punctuated by the faint flicker of the wall-mounted screen.

She hadn’t even realized the game was playing. Her gaze lifted, drawn to the action unfolding in front of her. The Pittsburgh Dolls versus the Boston Reign - a brutal match, fast and merciless. At first, her mind drifted. The game was just noise, a distraction.

Then, amidst the chaos, her focus snagged on a single player. The striker with the colorful hair. The one who had caught her eye the first time they’d played together.

Judy Álvarez.

The Dolls’ captain moved with effortless precision, weaving through defenders with a grace that seemed almost unnatural. Power and control coiled in the way she ran, the way she pivoted, the way she struck the ball with deadly accuracy. The moment she scored - a clean, devastating shot that sailed past the keeper like a bullet - Valerie felt something shift inside her. The exhaustion that had held her captive only moments ago loosened its grip, just a little.

Her gaze sharpened, tracking the way Judy moved, the way she carried herself with that silent, simmering fire. It wasn’t just her skill, though that was undeniable. It was something deeper. A sharpness, a quiet strength, a beauty that radiated from her. It was the way she commanded the field, the way she owned every inch of space she stepped into. It was the woman behind it all.

A smirk pulled at Valerie’s lips. She didn’t know her, not really. Their paths had crossed, a flicker of something unspoken passing between them in the heat of a match. But watching her now, Valerie felt an unfamiliar tug, a curiosity that curled deep in her gut. She wanted to know more. Wanted to understand what lay behind the mask.

A sharp beep shattered the quiet, yanking her from her thoughts. Her pulse kicked up, instinct taking over as her hand moved toward the weapon hidden beneath the couch. Her hand froze, as she glanced at the camera feed. The sight of the person waiting at her door made her heart shift in a way she didn’t expect.

Jackie. His broad frame filled the camera, a cocky grin already stretching across his face. The sight of him sent a strange kind of relief washing over her, a warmth she hadn’t expected. There was something about Jackie - about his energy, the way he carried himself, the unwavering brightness in his eyes - that made even the heaviest nights feel a little less suffocating.

Valerie sighed, shaking her head as she unlocked the door, cracking it open just before he could knock.

“What’s up, Jaquito?” she drawled, one brow arching as she took in the six-pack of beer he was holding up like a prize.

“We gotta celebrate this, hermana!” His voice boomed with that same infectious enthusiasm that could light up a whole damn city block.

Valerie narrowed her eyes slightly, curiosity flickering beneath the surface. “Celebrate what?”

Jackie practically bounced on his feet, energy thrumming through him like a live wire. “I’m goin’ to the major leagues, V!” His chest puffed out, pride radiating off him in waves. “Bagged myself a sweet-ass J-O-B!”

She smirked, stepping aside to let him in. “That right?”

Jackie nodded, already cracking open a beer as he flopped onto the couch. “Damn straight. This is it, chica. Gonna be rolling with the big dogs now.”

Valerie leaned against the wall, arms crossed loosely over her chest. The weight of the night still clung to her, but Jackie’s energy was a force strong enough to cut through it. For a fleeting moment, she let herself sink into the illusion of normalcy, into the rare quiet that settled between them. The world outside was always shifting, always threatening to swallow her whole, but here - just for tonight - she could pretend that things were simple.

“Yeah?” she mused, watching him. “Let’s hope the big dogs don’t eat you alive.”

Jackie only laughed, the sound rich and full of life. “Shit, if they try, I’ll bite back.”

“So,” she murmured after a moment, voice low, steady. “What’s the job?”

Jackie leaned forward, eyes alight with mischief, the kind that made her stomach twist with unease. His broad hands rested on his knees, fingers tapping against denim as if the anticipation alone was enough to electrify him. “Jus’ a klep, fronted by the top fixer in Night-fuckin’-City,” he said, grinning like he had just won the lottery.

Valerie narrowed her eyes, pulse kicking up without permission. Something about the way he said it - too eager, too proud - set her on edge. “Who?”

“Dex. Dexter DeShawn.”

Her stomach dropped. The name hit like a punch to the ribs, knocking the air from her lungs. She had heard whispers - rumors sliding between hushed conversations, scraps of intel exchanged in dark alleys and backroom bars. DeShawn had resurfaced, his name circling like a vulture around something big. Around something Militech wanted.

And now, Jackie was caught in the current.

“Jack,” she started, voice dipping into something sharp, wary. “That fat-assed black Jesus ain’t what you need. Trouble clings to him like a second skin. He vanished for two years after getting tangled in gang wars, came back acting like he owns this city. Word is he’s still in deep with some nasty crew from Pacifica. Guy’s up to his elbows in blood, and you wanna shake his hand? You wanna work with him?”

Jackie just shrugged, unbothered. His grin barely faltered. “That’s the biz, Val. Everyone’s got blood on their hands.” He leaned back, draping his arms across the back of the couch, casual as ever. “Besides, these are just rumors. Man’s makin’ a hell of a comeback. Got a sweet gig lined up—quick in, quick out. Easy money.” He knocked his knuckles against the side of his head. “In a few days, I’m gonna be rich.”

Valerie exhaled slowly, trying to keep her voice even. “What are you kleppin’?” she asked, already dreading the answer.

“Some kinda shard. They call it the relic.”

The world around her dimmed for a second, everything else fading into static. Relic, of course. Valerie forced herself to breathe, mind spinning as it pieced together the fragments, the implications. DeShawn. Arasaka. Militech. This was bigger than a heist. This was a death sentence.

“Jack,” she said, forcing the urgency into her voice, “don’t do this.”

Jackie rolled his eyes, laughing under his breath. “Come on, Val. This is the break I’ve been waitin’ for. You're this soccer superstar and I'll be the best merc in the city. A deadly pair. Besides, Dex picked me. Me.” He tapped his chest with pride, his confidence unwavering.

Valerie’s jaw clenched. “How did he contact you?” she asked, trying to fish for the setup, for the con that had already snared him.

Jackie exhaled, rubbing a hand through his hair. “Why’s it matter?” A beat of silence passed before he gave in. “Was drinking at the Afterlife with some chooms. Next thing I know, a bottle lands on our table—courtesy of DeShawn. Few minutes later, he’s askin’ if I’m lookin’ for a job.”

Her fingers curled into fists. “Jack, that’s how they work. They don’t look for talent, they look for someone easy to cut loose. They pick the gonks who can’t see the knife coming.”

He scoffed, shaking his head. “You don’t think I can do this? You think I’m some fuckin’ rookie?” His jaw tightened, hands gripping his knees. “The plan’s solid. I go in as an arms dealer, get into the penthouse while the kid’s out, klep the tech, and walk right out the front doors. No firefights, no mess. Just clean work. Netrunner’s already got the system rigged. It’s easy, Val.”

Valerie stared at him, weighed the desperation in his voice, the hunger for something bigger than himself. He wanted this. Needed it.

She swallowed hard. “Jack—”

“Stop. Just—” He waved a hand, cutting her off. “I didn’t come here for a fuckin’ lecture. Came here to celebrate.” His voice was rough, edged with frustration. He looked at her then, expression firm, unshakable. “Just be happy for me, Val.”

The silence between them stretched, heavy, suffocating. She could see it - how it had already slipped beyond her reach. No matter what she said, he wouldn’t listen. This wasn’t just a job for him. It was a chance to be someone, to carve out his name in a city that swallowed people whole.

Valerie inhaled, slow and measured. “I’m going with you, choom,” she forced a smile, masking the sinking weight in her chest. “Someone’s gotta cover that big, empty head of yours.”

***

The car swerved hard through the rain-slicked streets of Night City, neon light bleeding across the pavement in fractured reflections. Inside, the cabin reeked of gunpowder and blood. Valerie sat beside Jackie, both of them breathless, hands working on autopilot as they reloaded their weapons. The hum of Arasaka drones grew louder. Closer.

“Buckle up,” Valerie muttered, shoving the window open. Cold night air whipped against her face as she leaned out, pistol raised, the weight of it solid in her grip.

The first drone sliced through the sky above her, its scanner pulsing red. She didn’t hesitate - her finger squeezed the trigger, and a precise burst sent it spinning, fire and metal raining down in a shattered arc. Another locked onto her, painting its target lines across her chest. She fired again - two quick, measured shots - watching as it burst into a violent spray of sparks. The third moved smarter, erratic in its flight path, its turret whirring as it lined up its next attack. Valerie exhaled, adjusted her aim, and fired a single, controlled shot straight into its core. The thing convulsed midair before crashing onto the pavement, its engine hissing, broken.

She barely had time to catch her breath before she was back inside. The adrenaline that had been holding her steady faltered the second her eyes landed on Jackie. He was too pale. His breath, too shallow. His hand pressed weakly against his stomach, where dark blood seeped through his fingers, pooling in his lap.

Still, he smirked at her - cocky, stubborn, Jackie to the end. “See... told ya… we’d make it.”

Something cracked deep inside her, splintering apart. “Shit, Jackie. Hold on.” She lurched forward, pressing a hand to his stomach. Her other hand flew to the cab’s console, fingers shaking as she jabbed at the screen. “Change route—get us to Padre’s ripperdoc. Now!”

The Delamain’s voice remained infuriatingly even. “Destination has been prepaid and preplanned. Deviations are not permitted.”

Valerie’s pulse roared in her ears. “Fuck if I care! Change the goddamn route!”

“Destination has been prepaid and preplanned. Deviations are not permitted.”

She slammed a fist against the screen. “He’s bleeding out back here, goddamn it!”

Jackie’s eyes flickered, heavy-lidded. Valerie felt the panic crawl up her throat. She cupped his face, her thumb brushing over his cheek, willing him to stay, to fight. “Don’t close your eyes, Jack. They’re all waitin’ for you. Misty’s waitin’ for you. Just hang on a little longer, choom.”

But he only chuckled, a sound thin and rasping. “Misty… she knew… she always knew.” His fingers twitched, moving to the port behind his ear. He winced as he withdrew the bloodied shard, his hand trembling as he pressed it into Valerie’s port. “The biochip…” His voice was barely more than a breath. “Hold on to it. For me.”

The second the shard connected, Valerie felt the data flood into her, a brief flicker of something foreign before it stabilized. But she barely registered it. She only saw Jackie. Saw his eyes locked onto hers. Saw the light in them begin to fade.

And then—nothing.

A void opened inside her, hollow and vast, wrapping around her ribs like iron bands. Her fingers curled around his, unwilling to let go. The city blurred beyond the rain-streaked window, neon bleeding together in a smear of color, but none of it touched her. Her body refused to move. Her lungs felt tight, strangled by the weight pressing down on her chest. She didn’t know how long she sat there. Didn’t know when the cab stopped. Time had lost all meaning.

The AI’s voice cut through the silence, cold and clinical. “Mr. Welles has passed. Where shall I take his remains?”

Valerie swallowed, forcing down the grief choking her. Outside, the glow of the No-Tell Motel pulsed in the distance, indifferent to the death it had just witnessed. The cab repeated its question, unfeeling.

“His family,” she whispered. “He’d want to be with his family.”

She forced herself to look at him one last time before pushing the door open. The air hit her like a slap - cold, wet, sharp - but she barely noticed. Her hands trembled as she pulled out her phone, dialing the one number that made sense.

“I need your help. I’m at the No-Tell Mo—”

“You’ve made your bed, V.” His voice was flat. Cold. “You went against my orders. You figure it out. By yourself.”

Valerie’s jaw clenched. “I just wanted to help—”

“And how did that turn out, huh?” No sympathy. No hesitation. “Arasaka’s on your ass. Soburo’s dead. Militech won’t make a move now. You blew it.”

“I didn’t! Everything is wiped, everyone who saw me—dead. Sol, please, I just need—”

“It’s your mess, V. Not gonna get involved.” A pause. “Sort it out.”

The line clicked dead.

Valerie stood frozen for a moment, staring at the screen. Then, with a sharp inhale, she hurled the phone against the motel’s rusted wall. It shattered on impact, plastic and circuitry scattering across the concrete. The scream that ripped from her throat was raw, guttural - swallowed by the neon night and storm.

She was alone. All alone.

***

The fluorescent light above flickered and buzzed, casting a sickly, jaundiced glow over the grimy bathroom. The tiles beneath her boots were cracked, their grout darkened with filth, and the walls bore the ghost of a thousand unwashed sins. The air reeked of old mildew, piss, and something acrid she didn’t care to name.

Valerie stood hunched over the sink, bracing herself against the porcelain with bloodied hands. Her breath came too fast, too shallow, her chest heaving like she couldn’t get enough air. A dull, static ringing filled her ears, drowning out the world beyond the four walls of this shithole.

Dex had told her to clean up. Said she looked like shit.

Her jacket was ruined, soaked through with blood - some of it hers, most of it Jackie’s. The fabric clung to her skin, stiff where it had dried, wet where it hadn’t. She peeled one hand away from the sink and turned it palm-up. The blood was still tacky between her fingers, filling the creases of her skin, staining her nails. No matter how much she scrubbed, the sink kept running pink. No matter how much she rubbed at the fabric, Jackie’s blood wasn’t coming out.

She lifted her head, forcing herself to look at the mirror. The woman staring back wasn’t her. Not really. Her face was pale beneath the grime, streaked with sweat and someone else’s life. A fresh cut split the skin above her brow, sluggishly bleeding down the side of her face. But it was the eyes that unsettled her - the vacant, empty look of someone who had lost everything. Someone who wasn’t sure what was left.

Jackie was supposed to be here.

Jackie was supposed to be alive.

Her throat tightened, something thick and awful clawing its way up her ribs. She swallowed it down, but it only burned on the way back up.

The grief didn’t come first, though. The anger did. Hot. Blinding. Violent. Her fist slammed into the mirror before she could think twice. Glass shattered, spiderwebbing outward from the point of impact, splintering her reflection into a dozen jagged pieces. Pain flared sharp and bright in her knuckles, but it barely registered. She stared at the fractured glass, at the distorted, broken versions of herself staring back at her.

Then the numbness set in. Heavy. Suffocating. It curled around her ribs like barbed wire, sank into her limbs like wet concrete. This was too much. All of it. Jackie was gone. Her only friend, the only person who had ever really had her back, and now he was lying cold in the back of some Delamain, and she hadn’t been able to do a damn thing to stop it.

And for what? A botched heist?

Dex was panicking. She had seen it in his eyes when she lied about the relic. He was already working through his exit strategy, already deciding which loose ends needed tying up. She was one of them.

She had always known death would come for her eventually. She’d brushed against it too many times to count, each time just a little closer, a little sharper. People like her didn’t live long. Hell, she’d almost checked out in Brazil, but somehow, against all odds, she had kept going.

Now? She wasn’t sure why she’d bothered. Because this was how it ended. Not in a blaze of glory. Not on her terms. Just another corpse in Night City. Another name that would fade the moment the blood dried. She was too tired to stop it.

She exhaled, slow and steady, and forced herself to look at the mirror one last time. A dozen versions of her stared back. None of them mattered. It was time.

She turned and walked out of the bathroom.

The hit came fast. Dex’s bodyguard moved like a goddamn wrecking ball, his fist slamming into her face before she could even brace. She hit the floor hard, a sharp burst of pain ricocheting through her skull, the taste of blood thick on her tongue. Her vision blurred, shadows swimming at the edges, but she still made out the two men standing over her.

Dex smirked, slick and self-satisfied, like he thought this was inevitable. Like he had planned this from the start.

“Can’t risk it,” he said.

Then he pulled the trigger.

The weight of Valerie’s words settled over Judy like a lead blanket, suffocating in its quiet devastation. She had always known - at least in some distant, unspoken way - that the woman that sat beside her had been shaped by violence, carved out by loss, forged in the fire of things most people couldn’t even begin to comprehend. But this - this was different. This wasn’t just another battle scar. This was something fundamental, something that had shattered Valerie and left her piecing herself back together with nothing but jagged edges.

“He flatlined me,” Valerie continued, her voice carrying that same wry humor she always used to mask the worst of her pain. She kept her gaze fixed on the ocean. A soft chuckle escaped her lips, bitter and hollow. “Bullet hit me right in the head… And you know what? I was relieved. After all that waiting, all that wondering how and why—I didn’t even fight it.”

Judy felt her chest tighten, her breath catching as she watched a single tear slip down Val’s cheek. Before she could think twice, she reached out, brushing it away with the barest touch of her fingertips. Valerie closed her eyes at the contact, leaning into it just slightly - so slight that if Judy hadn’t been paying attention, she might’ve missed it. But she was always paying attention when it came to Valerie.

She caught Judy’s hand before the smaller woman could pull away, turning it over in her grasp. She brought Judy’s knuckles to her lips, pressing a lingering kiss there, as if grounding herself in the warmth of her touch. Then, just as quickly, she let go, her gray eyes finding Judy’s once more, their depths unreadable.

“At that time, I had nothing to lose. No one waiting for me,” Valerie murmured, her voice quieter now, laced with something raw. “Jackie was gone. So Mi had left me long before. Sol… I was sure he didn’t give a single fuck what happened to me. And… I was tired, Jude. So fuckin' tired. Tired of fighting, tired of running. When that fixer pulled the trigger, I didn’t resist. I let him do it. Hell, I almost welcomed it.”

Judy’s throat tightened. She had no words, nothing that could even begin to touch the depth of what Valerie had just said. The ache in her chest was almost unbearable - an unspoken grief for all the pain Valerie had carried, for the loneliness that had nearly consumed her.

“But you’re here,” she finally managed, her voice barely above a whisper, thick with something she couldn’t quite name. She curled her fingers against her palm, the ghost of Valerie’s kiss still lingering on her skin. “How… how is that possible?”

Valerie exhaled slowly, dragging a hand through her hair as she turned her gaze back toward the waves.

A sharp, acrid stench invaded Valerie’s nostrils before anything else. The foul mixture of decay, oil, and rust clung to the air, thick and suffocating, laced with something even worse - something rotting beneath the weight of filth. It curled in her throat, bile rising as she fought the wave of nausea. Each breath burned, shallow and ragged, the air scraping against the raw ache in her chest. Pain lanced through her ribs as she shifted, her body protesting every small movement.

Garbage. Metal. Shattered glass and tattered scraps of synthetic cloth clung to her skin, pressing against her like the remnants of a grave she hadn’t quite escaped. At least not yet. Something heavy pinned her down, a crushing weight across her torso, trapping her. She gritted her teeth, forcing herself to move, to push, her fingers curling around a twisted hunk of scrap. One sharp pull - nothing. Another, and white-hot agony seared through her arms, but she ignored it, muscles straining as she heaved with everything she had left. The mass gave way with a dull crash, tumbling from her body and sending a plume of dust and debris into the air.

Valerie gasped, her chest heaving, her vision swimming in the haze of it. She was alive. Somehow.

For a long moment, she could do nothing but breathe - each inhale shallow, laced with pain. Her limbs trembled as she forced herself up onto her elbows, then onto her knees. The world tilted, swaying dangerously beneath her as she staggered upright, legs unsteady beneath the weight of exhaustion.

The landfill stretched out before her, a graveyard of broken things. Jagged silhouettes of rusted metal and discarded wreckage jutted against the dull gray sky, stretching into the distance.

Voices. Valerie turned, blinking against the haze, her ears ringing. Two figures stood a few meters away. The fixer had his hands raised, palms open, his voice frantic, pleading. She couldn’t make out the words, but she could hear the desperation lacing them.

Reed didn’t care. There was no hesitation, no warning. A single gunshot cracked through the desolate silence, sharp and final. DeShawn crumpled, face-first into the dirt. Blood seeped into the ground beneath him, pooling dark and sluggish. Reed exhaled, lowering his weapon, his face unreadable, his expression calm in the way that only a man accustomed to death could be.

Then, as if sensing her, he turned.

Their eyes met. His lips moved. He said something - her name, maybe, or something else entirely. But she couldn’t hear it. The world lurched violently beneath her, her vision narrowing to a single, wavering point before the darkness surged forward and swallowed her whole.

***

A sterile light cut through Valerie’s eyelids, dragging her from the abyss of unconsciousness. Awareness came slowly, like wading through tar, every nerve in her body alight with a dull, throbbing ache. She felt foreign in her own skin - weighted, battered, the kind of pain that should’ve meant she was dead.

The chair beneath her was stiff, leather cracked with age, its surface cold against her skin. The air was thick with the sterile sting of antiseptic, laced with the unmistakable metallic tang of blood - hers, most likely. It clung to the back of her throat, turned her stomach.

Her lashes fluttered as she forced her eyes open, the world swimming in and out of focus. The ceiling above was cracked, water stains forming uneven shapes that reminded her of old inkblot tests. But her gaze drifted past them, slow and disconnected, as she tried to make sense of where the hell she was. A monitor whirred softly behind her. A vitals scan? Some diagnostic tool ticking away her borrowed time?

Ripperdoc’s clinic. Had to be. Ryder’s, most likely. He didn’t ask questions, just did the work. That meant she was safe. For now.

Then, she saw Reed. He stood a few feet away, arms crossed over his chest, his back braced against the wall as if he’d been there a while. The overhead fluorescents carved deep shadows across his face, but his eyes - tired, sharp, watching - never wavered. They stayed like that, caught in silence, neither speaking, neither looking away. The air between them was thick, heavy with everything unsaid, until finally, Reed exhaled, a slow, measured sigh, and pushed off the wall.

“That fuckin’ relic saved your ass,” he muttered, beginning to pace in slow, deliberate strides. His boots hit the tiled floor with dull, rhythmic thuds. “If it wasn’t for it, you’d be dead. What the fuck, V? One of the best agents I’ve ever trained, nearly killed by some fat-ass? It’s like you wanted it.”

Valerie let out a slow breath, tilting her head back against the chair. Her body still felt sluggish, her nerves lagging, like her mind was trying to catch up to the fact that she was still breathing. That this wasn’t a dream. Maybe it was the meds, maybe just exhaustion.

“Maybe I did.”

“V.”

There was something raw in his voice, a thread of something she couldn’t - or wouldn’t - name. She turned her head slightly, locking eyes with him, taking in the way his jaw tensed, the way his fingers flexed, like he was resisting the urge to grab and snap something – her neck, maybe.

“Why did you help me?” she asked, her voice came hoarse, distant, like it didn’t quite belong to her. “Out of obligation? You don’t want to waste another half a year getting close to Stout? Why the fuck would you help me, Sol? Why do I suddenly matter?”

For the smallest fraction of a second, his mask slipped. A crack in the armor. But she caught it. And that was all she needed. The answer came to her like a blade slipping between ribs.

“She wants the relic.”

Reed didn’t flinch. Didn’t even try to deny it.

“The bullet damaged the biochip,” he admitted, voice level, unreadable. “If we pull it out, you’re dead.”

Valerie huffed out something that could’ve been a laugh if there had been any humor left in her. “Like she gives a shit.”

“She doesn’t know,” Reed said, and there - there was the crack again. A hesitation. “I lied—reported back that the biochip’s broken.”

She let herself absorb those words. Reed, of all people, disobeying orders. For her. The thought gnawed at the edges of her mind, but she chose not to touch it. Not yet. Instead, she latched onto something else, something that had been clawing at her since the moment this whole mess began. 

“What’s on the chip?” The question slipped from her lips before she could stop it, though some part of her already knew - deep in her gut - that she wouldn’t like the answer.

Reed’s expression hardened, his mouth pressing into a thin line. “A terrorist… It’s an engram. Construct. However you’d want to call it. It’s a bomb with the fuse already burning. It’s rewriting your mind, V—erasing you, taking over your body.” He exhaled, slow and deliberate. “You’re dying.”

The words settled over her like concrete, heavy, suffocating. A sharp breath hissed through her nose, and she shook her head as a dry, mirthless chuckle scraped up her throat. “Nova. Just fuckin’ nova.” She dragged a hand down her face, fingers pressing against her temples like she could force back the inevitability of it all. Then, quieter, almost to herself, “Should’ve let me die there.”

“I can help. I can call in favors, get FIA doctors on it. I have a contact in Sweden—”

“Not a fuckin’ chance,” she cut him off. “Leave me the fuck alone.”

Reed’s jaw ticked, but he didn’t argue. Instead, he inhaled slowly, then exhaled just as deliberately, recalibrating. When he spoke again, there was something different in his tone - something that made her glance up, really look at him.

“Okay. In that case… I will buy you some time. Stay on the assignment, keep your head down. You can fight it… If you’re willing to fight.”

She held his gaze, her fingers tightening around the armrests of the chair, nails pressing into the worn fabric. He wasn’t giving her an order. Wasn’t trying to back her into a corner. He was offering her something. An out. A chance to fight - not for them, not for Myers, not for any goddamn cause. For herself.

A slow, steadying breath filled her lungs, but it did nothing to quiet the riot inside her. She pushed herself upright, forcing her body to obey even as the world tilted sickeningly around her. The dizziness clawed at the edges of her vision, but she locked her jaw and rode it out, swallowing the bile that threatened to rise.

“Oh, I’ll fight,” she murmured, her voice like tempered glass - sharp, fragile, unbreakable. “I’m dyin’ on my own fuckin’ terms. Not gonna become someone else. You’ve already taken most of my life.”

The effort to stand left her legs unsteady beneath her, her balance shifting dangerously. Reed moved on instinct, a flicker of muscle memory, ready to catch her. She shoved him back before he could. Her palms hit his chest, weak but defiant, a force driven more by sheer will than strength.

“Fuck you,” she spat, breath ragged, eyes burning with fury. “And fuck Myers. I don’t need your help. Gonna figure it out myself.”

He didn’t stop her this time. Didn’t try to reason with her, didn’t reach for her again. He just stood there, watching as she stumbled toward the door.

***

The bathroom reeked of whiskey and vomit, a sour, clinging stench that settled in the back of Valerie’s throat and refused to leave. The cold tile pressed against her back, grounding her in a way the alcohol never could, though she wasn’t sure she wanted to be grounded at all. Her legs sprawled out in front of her, boots scuffed and damp from whatever filth had pooled on the floor. Somewhere near the toilet, her last drink lay wasted, swirling in the rusted water, but she didn’t care. The weight of the bottle in her hand was the only thing that mattered now, the burn of it the only thing that felt real.

She unscrewed the cap with slow, deliberate fingers, raised the bottle to her lips. "I'll miss you, Jacquito," she murmured. 

The first swallow did nothing but remind her of the acid still coating her tongue. The second dulled it. The third drowned out the lingering taste of vomit. By the fourth, she barely tasted anything at all.

Then came the flicker. A ripple in the weak, flickering light. Valerie barely reacted. Just tilted her head, exhaling through her nose as the ghost of a man stepped into focus.

“Here comes Johnny,” she muttered, lifting the bottle in mock salute. Another pull, another burn. It wasn’t doing its job fast enough. “My favorite fuckin’ brain tumor.”

Johnny took off his shades, slipping them into the front of his tank top with an easy flick of his fingers. His gaze swept over her, slow and assessing, taking in the dark smudges under her eyes, the way she barely held herself up. The bottle. The slouch. The stench. He smirked, but there was no real amusement behind it.

“You’re useless,” he said, not with malice, just tired resignation. “Gonna drink yourself to death, or are we actually doing something about this?”

“There’s no us.”

Johnny sighed, long and drawn out, before dropping down beside her, mirroring her posture. “It’s been almost a week, V.” His voice was quieter now, something simmering beneath it. “Can you fuckin’ figure it out already? Or you just gonna sit here, let them win?”

Valerie scoffed, shaking her head. “Y’know, you got some nerve,” she slurred, tipping the bottle back again. “First, you’re out to kill me. Now you wanna be my pal? Act like none of that happened?”

Johnny tapped two fingers against his knee, an old habit of impatience. “Processed some shit. Changed my mind. Don’t want you dead anymore.”

“Go fuck yourself, dickwipe.”

Johnny huffed a quiet laugh. “Hey, wasn’t easy for me either. You woke up in a landfill. I woke up in your head. Wrestling with your thoughts, your memories. And lemme tell ya, it’s a fuckin’ nightmare. War changed. These were some messed up images.” He paused, then shrugged. “Think we’re even.”

Valerie rolled her head against the wall, half-lidded eyes flicking toward him. “What do you want me to do, Silverhand?”

He didn’t smirk this time. His expression sharpened, jaw set. “You know what I want.”

She did. And she didn’t want to hear it.

“Help me settle the score.”

“Score’s settled,” she muttered, rubbing a hand over her face. “Soburo’s dead. His idiot son’s gonna run Arasaka straight into the ground. Militech’s already circling. Hell, Myers probably has her claws in him too.”

Johnny leaned in, voice quiet, dangerous. “Then let’s take down Myers.” He let the words settle, let the idea sink its teeth in. “The whole rotten fuckin’ system. The corps, the government. Let’s burn it all down.”

Valerie stared at him for a long moment, then tipped the bottle, watching the amber liquid slosh inside. “You’re a funny guy, Johnny. I’d pour you one… but you’re just a digital fuckin’ corpse.”

“Isn’t this what you want, V?” he asked, his voice shifted, melting into something almost coaxing, almost gentle. “To make them pay for what they did to you?”

Something in his tone made her pause.

“You’ve been their obedient little dog for so long,” Johnny went on, steady, relentless. “Mission after mission. Kill after kill. Never thought about yourself. So, answer me this—what do you want, Valerie? What is the thing you really, really want?” He nodded toward her, like it was a challenge. “Figure it out. Then let’s do it. And once we’re done with that, let’s save your worthless fuckin’ ass.”

Her gaze flickered to the duffel bag slumped near the door. The uniform packed inside. The cleats. The towel. The ball. The things that once made her feel like she had a place, like she was more than just a blade to be sharpened and used.

Her fingers trembled slightly around the bottle’s neck. She took a slow breath, let it fill her lungs, let it steady the storm in her chest. And before she could stop herself, the truth slipped out, raw and unguarded, stripped of bravado.

“I want a normal life, Johnny,” she admitted. The words felt foreign on her tongue. Almost ridiculous. But once they started flowing out, once she opened this door, she couldn’t stop. “I want a say in where I am, who I’m with, what I’m doing. I want out of the FIA. I want to do something that matters. That brings me joy. I want to play soccer.” She laughed, but it was hollow, frayed at the edges. “I want fuckin’ everything, on my terms. I want to feel needed. Loved. I don’t want to be a monster anymore. And… and I want this fuckin’ chip out.”

Johnny didn’t answer right away. Just studied her, something unreadable flickering across his face. “A week ago, you wanted to die,” he reminded her.

She smirked, tired, but real. “Processed some shit. Changed my mind, choom.”

A sharp chime shattered the moment, an alert cutting through the haze of alcohol and exhaustion. Someone was at the door. Valerie didn’t bother checking the feed – she didn’t really care. She already knew it wasn’t good news. With a groan, she forced herself upright, the motion sending a brief wave of dizziness through her. The room tilted at the edges, but she braced against it, dragging a hand down her face as she steadied herself. Johnny just sat there, arms folded, watching in silent amusement.

The door slid open with a quiet hiss.

Meredith Stout stood in the doorway, arms crossed, expression carved from stone. Her sharp gaze swept over the room, taking in the mess - half-empty bottles, empty take-away boxes, discarded clothes, and Valerie herself, barely standing, whiskey bottle dangling loosely from her fingers. Stout clicked her tongue, shaking her head in quiet disapproval.

“You missed training again, rook.”

Valerie wiped her mouth with the back of her hand before meeting Stout’s gaze, unfazed. A slow, lazy grin curled her lips. “Been busy.”

Stout’s eyes flickered to the bottle in her hand. “Yeah. I can see that.”

“You here to gimme a lecture?”

“No,” Stout replied as she stepped inside, her boots tapping against the tile, crisp and deliberate. “I’m here to drag your ass to the pitch. You’re gonna run until you puke your intestines.”

Valerie let out a short laugh, tilting her head as she considered that. “Gimme, like… two laps.”

They stood there, locked in a silent exchange, sizing each other up. The air between them bristled with unspoken challenges, neither one willing to back down first. Then - just barely - a smirk ghosted across Stout’s lips.

Johnny chuckled under his breath.

Judy frowned, the name tugging at the edges of her memory like an old song she couldn’t quite place. “Johnny Silverhand,” she murmured. “Why does that sound so familiar?”

"Played with a band called Samurai," Valerie explained, her voice tinged with a mix of reverence and bitterness. "He died over fifty years ago, trying to take down Arasaka in one final, desperate act. But it didn’t go the way he planned. Soburo, being the vengeful bastard he was, decided death wasn’t enough. So, he locked Johnny’s psyche away, trapped it in a digital prison. And there he rotted, for decades—until I got my hands on the chip.”

Judy nodded slowly, her mind sifting through the fractured history of Night City, piecing together the whispers and half-truths she’d heard in bars, on the news, from the mouths of old-timers who still spoke of the past like it was worth remembering. The attack on Arasaka, the explosion that leveled the tower, the reconstruction that followed. Johnny Silverhand had been little more than a ghost in the city’s long, violent history. His rebellion, his anger, his war against the corps - it had burned hot, but it hadn’t lasted.

And now, the idea that he still lived on, in Valerie’s mind of all people—

Judy’s stomach turned. It sounded like some dystopian nightmare.

“And he… lives in your head?” she asked, hesitant, trying to wrap her mind around it. “You can… see him?”

Valerie’s lips quirked into a smirk, though there was something else behind it - something tired, worn down. “I know how it sounds,” she said, almost teasing. “You’re probably thinking I’ve lost it.”

Judy let out a short breath, shaking her head. “A little,” she admitted, the corners of her mouth twitching despite the unease curling in her gut. “So that’s who you were talking to in the showers, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Valerie’s gaze flickered past her, distant, like she was looking at someone just beyond Judy’s reach. “I can see him, hear him. He’s there, at least most of the time. And he never shuts up.” A wry chuckle escaped her. “Always got something to say—grumbling, bitching, commenting on every little thing I do. Took some getting used to, but… we figured out a way to co-exist. He’s a part of my reality now.”

Judy studied her, searching for any sign of a lie, but Valerie wasn’t bullshitting her. As much as she wanted to dismiss it as impossible, too fucking insane to be real… She thought of Reed. Thought of the way his eyes had darkened when he’d mentioned Valerie’s condition. The way he’d hinted at something far worse than just a presence in her mind.

Judy’s fingers curled into fists at her sides. “How is he killing you?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper, though the weight of the words made it feel like a shout.

Valerie exhaled, her shoulders dropping slightly, as if the question had taken something out of her. “He’s overwriting me. Like a tumor, he’s spreading—taking over, piece by piece. No one knows how long I have. Could be years. Could be days.” She swallowed, her voice lowering further. “The FIA’s been giving me blockers, but the attacks are getting worse, more frequent. I can feel it. My time’s running out.”

Judy’s heart clenched. The words felt like a knife twisting in her chest.

“There has to be something we can do,” she said, urgency creeping into her tone. “Some kind of fix—”

“There is,” Valerie cut her off, her gaze locked onto the endless stretch of dark water, like she was searching for answers in its depths. “I’ve been fighting for months to find a way out. I managed to get in touch with an AI—someone Johnny knew. She says she can help. But it’s—there might be a cost we’re not aware of yet…” Valerie’s jaw tensed. “And I don’t know if I’m willing to pay it.”

Judy could hear the hesitation in her voice, the quiet fear buried beneath it.

Valerie exhaled sharply, shaking her head. “And I’d need to storm Arasaka Tower. There’s a shot at disconnecting us, but it’s a long one. And given my condition…” She trailed off, her lips pressing into a thin line. “A few months ago, I might have been willing to take that risk, but now… I want to follow a safer route. I needed another option, and I think I’ve found it... But Johnny thinks I should go in guns blazing. That I should burn the tower to the ground one more time.”

Judy’s jaw clenched. “Well, fuck him,” she muttered, the frustration boiling over. “So, what’s the other option?”

The sun was bleeding out over Watson, spilling molten hues of orange and crimson into the smog-choked horizon. From her perch atop the abandoned building, Valerie watched as the last slivers of light stretched jagged shadows across the city below. Neon signs flickered to life in the gathering dark. Somewhere far beneath her, engines growled, sirens wailed, the city exhaling its endless, restless breath.

A curl of smoke twisted lazily from the cigarette between her fingers, the taste of cheap tobacco thick on her tongue. She exhaled, watching the ember pulse, weak, then flare again with her next slow drag.

A sharp, metallic groan shattered the silence as a door was forced open below. The unmistakable rhythm of boots pounding up the stairwell, fast, disciplined, inevitable. Valerie didn’t move. Didn’t even flinch. Just took one last pull, let the burn settle deep in her lungs, then flicked the cigarette off the roof’s edge. She followed its descent with her eyes until it vanished into the abyss below.

The rooftop door burst open. Four agents spilled into the open air, their presence a wall of cold violence. Rifles raised. Safeties off. And then - the sharp, deliberate click of stilettos against concrete. A sound that cut through the moment like a blade.

“Stand down,” came the order, crisp and unimpressed. A beat of hesitation, then obedience. Tight leash. The agents lowered their weapons without argument, stepping back into the stairwell. The door groaned shut behind them.

Only then did Valerie turn. President Rosalind Myers stood before her, arms crossed, her sharp gaze sweeping over the rooftop with something close to disdain. A battered old sofa sagged against the railing, its fabric stained from years of neglect. Myers eyed it, lips curling slightly, then scoffed and remained standing.

“You have five minutes, agent.”

Valerie smirked. “Not an agent anymore. Song paid for my freedom, remember? That’s what you said yesterday.”

Myers tilted her head, considering.

“Four minutes.”

Valerie let out a slow breath, steeling herself. “I want the neural matrix.”

Myers barely reacted. “Do you now?”

“I know it can help,” Valerie continued, steady but taut. “With my issue.”

“And what issue would that be?” the President asked with a calculated boredom.

“Arasaka’s relic.”

That got her attention. Myers’ expression barely shifted, but something flickered in her gaze, something sharp and knowing. “Isn’t that thing long gone?”

Valerie inhaled through her nose. “Nah. It’s in my head.”

For the first time, Myers glanced toward Reed who was standing near the stairwell like a goddamn statue. He didn’t react. Didn’t even twitch. Valerie could almost see the gears turning in Myers’ mind, weighing what she already knew against what she’d just learned.

“He didn’t know,” Valerie offered, even though Reed didn’t deserve the cover.

Myers chuckled dryly, shaking her head. “I doubt that’s exactly what happened. But honestly? I don’t care.” She studied Valerie for a long moment, then grinned. That same psycho-smile that always sent a shiver down Val’s spine. “What’s in it for me?”

Of course, the carrot and the stick. And Valerie was already exhausted. Minutes in, and she was tired of the game. She’d been playing it for years - since she was a teenager, since the first time she learned how to lie, how to twist the rules, how to cut corners and make people squirm. She thought she knew how to play that game. Thought she had control. Thought she knew how to win.

She didn’t know shit.

For a moment, after she had walked away from the chopper and left Songbird behind, she thought she had escaped. That she was finally free. Even though the cost was too high, even though she didn’t deserve it. Then she cracked open the hidden data on So Mi’s shard, and there it was - salvation, written in cold, clinical lines of code. She could be cured. That neural matrix was a key. There was a way to help her. But, as usual, there was a price.

She was too tired to fight it. She just wanted to live. To try again. No matter the cost.

Valerie pulled her pack from her pocket, tapped it twice against her palm, and slid out two cigarettes. She held one out. Myers raised an eyebrow but took it, leaning in as Valerie flicked open her lighter. The flame flared between them, casting their faces in warm gold. The President exhaled her first lungful of smoke, watching Valerie through the haze.

“I can take it from you right now,” Myers mused, her voice soft, almost playful. “You don’t have any leverage here. I could tell Reed to put a bullet in your head and take what I need.”

Valerie exhaled a slow stream of smoke, unfazed. “But you won’t.”

Myers smirked. “No, I won’t. But not for the reason you’ve imagined.”

Valerie sighed, tilting her head. “If you tell me I’m your long-lost daughter and this is about some buried maternal instinct—”

“Don’t be ridiculous, agent.”

Valerie let out a low chuckle, but her patience was running thin. They were dancing around it for too long. She leveled a look at Myers - sharp, tired, done.

“Then let’s cut to the fucking chase, Madame President. We both know you’ve already got your angle. You knew I was dying. You knew about the relic. Otherwise, you wouldn’t be here.” She took a drag, let it linger, then exhaled through her nose, eyes locked onto Myers’. “What do you need me to do?”

A pause. A flick of the wrist as Myers tapped ash off her cigarette. Then, finally, a nod toward Reed.

“You’ll go to Barcelona,” the dark-skinned man said, stepping forward for the first time since they arrived. His voice was smooth, practiced, calculated. “One last mission. If you succeed—we save you.”

Of course. That had been the plan all along. Reed must have told Myers about the relic recently. Or maybe she had forced it out of him. Maybe he had his reasons. Maybe it didn’t fucking matter.

They wanted her back on the leash. One step forward, two steps back. But she didn’t care anymore. Not about the FIA wrapping its claws around her neck again. Not about Myers’ smirk. Not about Reed’s betrayal. Her pulse spiked, panic curling at the edges of her resolve, before something else cut through it - something wild, something dangerous, something that felt too much like hope.

Barcelona. The World Cup. Judy would be there. Maybe she could save whatever was left between them. Maybe she could beg for forgiveness. Maybe she still had a chance.

“You take out my cyberware, too,” she said.

Myers studied her for a long moment, then took one last drag, flicking her cigarette off the roof.

“If that’s what you desire.”

Valerie hesitated. Just for a second. Just long enough to feel that dangerous, aching hope crawl further into her chest. Then she exhaled. “Then we have a deal, Madame President.”

“And that’s the safer choice?!” Judy’s voice cracked with disbelief, her breath uneven, the weight of Valerie’s words pressing down on her like an iron vice. She shook her head, hands clenched at her sides as she tried to make sense of the impossible. “You’ve gotta be fuckin’ kiddin’ me.”

Valerie didn’t flinch at the outburst. Instead, she offered a small, wry smile, one that barely reached her eyes - an almost sad thing, tinged with something Judy couldn’t quite name. “I looked for a way out, Jude,” she murmured, her voice low, careful. “And there aren’t many—”

“They’ll fuck you over,” Judy cut in sharply, her heart hammering against her ribs, her fear bleeding into frustration. “They will, just like they did before. Why are you lettin’ them back in?”

“It’s a fucked-up situation,” Valerie admitted, running a hand through her tousled hair. She looked away, exhaling slowly, as if forcing herself to remain composed. “I don’t have much of a say… They have the neural matrix. That will help. They can help. I can handle the aftermath. I can handle them.”

Judy swallowed hard, her stomach twisting with doubt. “What if they don’t?” she asked, quieter now, though no less intense. “What if this is a trap? A way to control you again? What if you do this mission, and then they demand another, and another, until there’s nothin’ left of you?”

A heavy silence stretched between them. Valerie didn’t answer right away. Instead, she shifted, pulling Judy closer, wrapping her arm around her shoulder with possessiveness. Her expression was clouded, as if she was weighing the words before she let them out. “I don’t know,” she admitted, voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t think they’d let me die that easy. But… there’s a third option, y’know.”

Judy felt the cold dread settle in her bones before Valerie even said it. Her gut had already told her where this was going.

She still asked anyway. “And what would that be?”

Valerie hesitated, and that alone sent another wave of fear crashing over Judy. When she finally spoke, her voice was quiet, almost fragile.

“Giving up.”

Judy’s breath hitched.

Valerie didn’t meet her eyes. Instead, she stared somewhere past her, past the horizon, as if searching for something just out of reach. “It’d mean… living out my remaining days in peace,” she continued, her words careful, measured. “Enjoying what little time I have left. Savoring every moment. Sharing ice cream with you, falling asleep beside you, spending lazy days with you. And when the time comes… just letting Johnny take over.”

“Fuck that option,” Judy spat, her voice breaking on the edges of her anger. “Fuck that, Val. I didn’t sign up for a few days or weeks. I want more—I want so much more than that.”

Valerie finally looked at her then, really looked at her, like she wasn’t sure if she’d heard her right. Her gray eyes, usually so guarded, softened. “I can’t believe how well you’re taking all this,” she admitted after a beat, almost in awe. “I’ve been trapped in this nightmare for months, barely holding on, trying to keep control, and yet… here you are. Not running. Not turning away. Not even hesitating. Just looking for a way to fight it.” She exhaled, shaking her head. “I don’t get it. Why?”

Judy’s heart pounded so hard it hurt. She opened her mouth, then closed it, as if struggling to find the words for something so immense, so terrifying. When she finally spoke, her voice trembled, raw with emotion.

“Because I fuckin’ love you, Val.”

It was a confession wrapped in defiance, in absolute certainty. A point of no return.

“And I know how crazy that sounds,” Judy continued, her throat tight. “Especially after what you’ve just told me. I know what you’re thinkin’. That it doesn’t make sense. That maybe I should be packin’ my bags right now, leavin’ all this behind before it swallows me whole. And maybe I should. Maybe I should be smarter, safer. But I can’t. I fuckin’ can’t.” She let out a breathless laugh, colored with something close to despair. “It’s fuckin’ foolish, yeah? I know it’s foolish. To let myself care this much. To get attached when I know how this could end. But I understand the risks now, and I’m still here. I’m all in. Even if I’m walkin’ straight into heartbreak.”

Valerie stared at her, unmoving, her expression unreadable.

“But how could I not be?” Judy’s voice softened, her hands reaching for Valerie’s, fingers gripping tight. “You drive me crazy, Val. You’re reckless, stupid, stubborn as hell—but you’re also kind. You’re tender in ways you don’t even realize. The way you look at me sometimes… it makes me feel like I’m fuckin’ melting inside.” She swallowed hard. “I can’t stay away from you. Not a fuckin’ chance. I can’t just let go. I’ve never felt this way before, and I refuse to let it slip through my fingers. If I don’t act, I’ll regret it for the rest of my life.”

She took a shaky breath. “I’m scared, yeah. Scared as fuck. But I still trust you, Val. Just… no more fuckin’ lies.”

A breath passed between them, heavy with the weight of it all. Valerie’s face softened, something shifting in her eyes - something almost like wonder. Slowly, she lifted a hand, her fingers tracing the curve of Judy’s cheek, thumb brushing over her lips with an aching tenderness. Judy sighed at the touch, her body leaning into it instinctively, craving the warmth, the comfort, the reassurance.

“I love you too, Jude,” Val murmured at last, her voice rough but certain. Judy’s heart clenched. “That’s why I have to take this leap of faith. I have to trust Sol one last time. It’s the safest option.”

Judy’s chest ached, but she saw the resolve in Valerie’s expression - the quiet determination that had always burned in her, even in the worst of times. Judy trusted that fire – that quiet storm beneath her skin, that silent oath. That’s why she didn’t argue. Didn’t push. Instead, she leaned forward, her hands slipping into Valerie’s hair as she kissed her. It was slow, gentle - soft in a way that words couldn’t be. She poured everything into it, every unspoken promise, every fear, every ounce of love. Hoping Valerie would understand. Hoping she’d feel it, deep in her bones. That Judy was here to fight alongside her, to find a way through the darkness together.

When they finally parted, Judy shifted, finding solace in the space between Valerie’s knees. She leaned back against her, craving the warmth, the steady rise and fall of her breath, the way the blue-haired woman’s arms wrapped around her with quiet certainty. It was grounding, this embrace - an unspoken vow, a tether to something real amidst the chaos swirling around them. Judy let herself linger in it for a moment, let herself believe, just for a second, that they could stay like this, untouched by the world outside.

But the world had already sunk its claws into them.

Judy exhaled sharply, breaking the silence. “I’m not gonna pretend I’m fully okay with this,” she admitted, her voice quieter than she intended. She felt Valerie press a soft kiss to her neck, an absentminded gesture, meant to soothe. But the tension in her gut didn’t ease. It only tightened. “Especially after hearing that guy threaten you. What exactly do they want you to do? I caught something about scanning.”

Valerie sighed, her hold tightening around Judy’s waist. “They need me to scan Aurore Cassel during a match,” she said, her voice tinged with resignation. “FIA implanted metanthropic module in my head—tech they use for deep readings. It’s not just a quick scan. It’s a full imprint. I have to stay close to her, long enough to get the full spectrum. That’s why they think a game is the perfect setup. She’s their main defender, so sticking to her won’t be hard.”

Judy frowned, her mind catching on the details. The complexity of the task. The cyberware. The method. The danger. The risks. The sheer level of intrusion. “But we need to win our group first to even play against them,” she pointed out, tension coiling in her stomach.

Valerie let out a low chuckle, pulling Judy even closer, as if that might soften the weight of what she was saying. “Yeah. And that’s where I need your help.”

Judy swallowed, her fingers curling into the fabric of Valerie’s shirt. The pieces were falling into place, but they only painted a picture she didn’t want to see. She hesitated, then asked, “Why do they need to scan Aurore?”

“Honestly, no idea,” Val admitted, her breath warm against Judy’s ear. “But she’s connected to the Collective. A French syndicate. My guess is FIA wants a way in. Aurore’s their key.” She paused, her voice quieter when she added, “I don’t give a shit about their business. I just want what they promised me.”

Judy’s heart thudded against her ribs. “A cure?”

“Yeah, and to stop being a monster,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “They promised to take everything out. Not just the chip. Every last piece of chrome. I’ll finally be free.”

Judy closed her eyes, swallowing the sharp sting of anger rising in her throat. She hated this. Hated that Valerie was still letting herself believe in the same people who had ripped her apart before, had turned her into a weapon, then discarded her like she was nothing. Hated that they had her backed into a corner so tight she thought this was her only way out.

And what scared her most - what made her stomach twist with something close to panic - was that if they had manipulated Valerie once, they could do it again. And Judy might not be able to stop it.

“Yeah,” she muttered, her voice tight, “if this Sol guy doesn’t fuck you over again.” She clenched her jaw before forcing herself to say it aloud, to voice the fear gnawing at her. “What if they don’t let you walk away after this? What if this surgery is bullshit? Or worse—what if you don’t survive it?”

Valerie was quiet for a moment, her lips brushing against the back of Judy’s neck as she finally murmured, “I have to take the risk, Jude. There’s no other way. I’ll handle it.”

Judy felt her chest tighten. “Didn’t you learn anything from So Mi?”

The words slipped out before she could stop them, raw and unfiltered. She felt Valerie go still, her whole body locking up, as if she’d been turned to stone. The air between them thickened, charged with something neither of them could escape. Judy didn’t need to see Valerie’s face to know the wound she had just reopened. She could feel it.

A long, heavy silence stretched between them before Valerie finally spoke, her voice steady but laced with quiet pain. “I made a mistake,” she said, the words edged with something bitter. “And now she’s Myers’ favorite weapon.” A slow exhale. “I should’ve pulled the trigger. I had the chance. I just… I couldn’t do it.” Another pause. “I’d do anything to erase that mistake, but it’s done. There’s nothing I can do now. If I ever get a second chance, I will.”

Judy nodded, not trusting herself to speak.

“I know I’m letting them in again. I know I’m playing their game. But this time, I’m going in with my eyes wide open,” Valerie exhaled sharply, her fingers tightening around Judy’s. “And I’m counting on Reed to keep his word. After what happened with So Mi, he owes me that much.”

Judy shook her head. “You’re putting a lot of faith in that man.”

“I know,” Valerie admitted. There was resignation in her voice. “But I believe he’s a good man. He found me at the dump, lied to Myers. He got me back on my feet. For a long time, at the beginning, he took care of me. I thought he was one of my best friends. I trust he’ll do what’s right.”

Judy let out a slow, shaky breath. She wanted to believe that too. But she wasn’t sure she could.

As the first light of dawn stretched across the sky, unraveling the last remnants of darkness, the pair sat in silence, their eyes fixed on the horizon. The colors bled into one another - soft hues of rose and amber spilling over the deep indigo, each shade warming the cold edge of the night. The ocean mirrored the shifting palette, its surface rippling with stolen light, turning the waves into liquid gold. For a moment, the world seemed to hold its breath, as if reluctant to disturb the fragile peace lingering between them.

Wrapped in Valerie’s warmth, Judy let herself sink into the quiet. The weight of the night before - the confessions, the uncertainty, the fears, the things neither of them were ready to say aloud - felt distant now, like ghosts fading with the retreating shadows. For a few stolen minutes, they were simply here. No past, no future. Just the rhythm of the waves, the cool salt air, the steady rise and fall of Valerie’s chest.

Judy shifted slightly, pressing back into Valerie’s embrace, feeling the slow, reassuring thrum of her heartbeat. Strong. Steady. A quiet promise. Valerie’s arms tightened around her in response, holding her as if she could keep this moment from slipping through their fingers. The golden light crept over their faces, softening the sharp edges of exhaustion, casting away the shadows of worry that had carved themselves into their skin.

Judy exhaled, reluctant to break the spell but knowing they couldn’t stay like this forever. The world was already calling them back. “We should head back,” she murmured, the words coming slow, heavy. “Got a match to prepare for. And… everyone’s expecting us to act like nothing’s changed.”

Valerie nodded, the motion slight, her chin brushing against Judy’s shoulder. “Yeah,” she said, quiet but resolute. “Just two players. Focused on the tournament. No one needs to know what’s happening behind the scenes.”

As the sun continued its ascent, signaling the start of a new day, as the sun climbed higher, burning away the last traces of night they knew it was time. Time to step back into their roles. To pull their masks on. Valerie moved first, her hand trailing over the nape of Judy’s neck, a lingering touch before she finally pulled away.

Judy turned, their eyes meeting in the quiet space between them. There was understanding in that gaze, a shared resolve. They knew what lay ahead, the weight they would have to carry. But for now, there was no need for words. They would face it together. Even if the rest of the world thought they were here just to play a game.

Chapter Text

Chapter XV | Smoke
I'm losing you to the games in my mind.

The match had turned into something far more brutal than expected. What should have been a straightforward victory had instead morphed into a grueling battle. Every pass, every run, every attempt to carve through Argentina’s ironclad defense felt like a collision against an immovable force.

But Judy wasn’t only fighting the players in front of her. Her mind was locked on what had transpired the night before - the whispered confessions on the shore, the threats, the weight of secrets that refused to stay buried. The face of Daphne, or rather, Alex - the imposter who wore her skin - lingered in her thoughts like a specter. She was sitting on the bench, eyes trained on Judy’s every move, watching, waiting for her to slip.

Judy wouldn’t say anything, couldn’t say anything. Who would believe her? Spies, cryptic cyberware, broken biochip, digital ghosts - it was a world she was still struggling to grasp, one that felt like a bad dream she couldn’t wake up from. Who would believe any of this?

But one thing was certain. Valerie was at the center of it all, and Judy wanted to be her anchor, her constant in the chaos. She wanted to help, to do more than just stand at the edge of the typhoon and watch it from afar. But the how of it all eluded her.

So, she focused on what she could control - the game. They needed to win their group to have any shot at France on the road to the final. That was something tangible. That was something she could affect. And so, she gave everything she had, pushing herself past exhaustion, trying to find cracks in Argentina’s defense. But nothing was working. The scoreboard remained frozen at 1-1, the minutes slipping away, tension thick enough to strangle the breath from her lungs.

Then, it happened - Rita lunging forward, an aggressive, no-holds-barred tackle that sent an Argentine player sprawling. A second later, the field erupted. Players from both teams converged, bodies crashing, words spat like gunfire, fists clenched at their sides, the threat of an all-out brawl simmering in the air.

Judy barely had time to react before Valerie surged forward, ready to throw herself into the chaos. Her hand shot out, fisting in Val’s shirt, yanking her back before she could get caught in the melee. “Don’t,” she muttered under her breath, her eyes locked on something beyond the fray. “It’s not what you think it is.”

This wasn’t just a reckless outburst. This was calculated. It was a ruse, a clever distraction engineered most probably by Meredith to buy them a few crucial moments. And then she saw it - as the cluster of bodies swallowed the center of the field, Sandra had slipped away, jogging toward the sideline where Regina stood waiting, urgency carved into every line of her stance. Judy held her breath, watching as Sandra leaned in, catching their coach’s words. Whatever Regina was saying, this was it. Their last shot. Their only shot.

Sandra turned, breaking into a sprint as she returned to the field, her expression sharpened with purpose. She reached them in a rush, words low and clipped, meant for their ears alone. “Forget the free kick. We’ve got it covered. You two need to be ready for the pass.”

Judy’s pulse spiked, she exhaled, her mind already mapping out the possibilities. “Regina says this is our last play. Argentina thinks they’ve got us locked down, but we’re about to hit them where it hurts. You’ve gotta dance around them, no hesitation. Keep the passes quick, sharp. Don’t give them time to adjust. Trust your instincts, move as one. Like you did during our first training. Find the opening and take it. Don’t overthink it.”

This was it. The moment everything hinged on. The chance to turn the tide, to win or to watch it all slip through their fingers. Judy wasn’t about to let that happen.

The referee’s whistle cut through the charged air. For a single breath, the world held still. The roar of the crowd faded into distant hum, drowned beneath the rapid, hammering rhythm of Judy’s heartbeat. The stadium lights cast a harsh glare over the pitch, illuminating the poised figure of the Argentine defender as she stepped up to take the free kick. Every muscle in Judy’s body coiled, tense and waiting, her gaze locked onto the ball. She could feel the anticipation thrumming through her teammates, a collective inhale as they braced for impact.

The ball lifted off the ground, cutting cleanly through the air, a well-placed strike aimed for the heart of the formation. Argentina’s forwards surged forward, their confidence palpable, but before they could seize their chance, Meredith sprang into action. Her timing was impeccable - she met the ball midair with a powerful header, sending it arcing back down the field. In a heartbeat, Sandra intercepted, her touch effortless as she sidestepped an oncoming midfielder and drove the ball forward.

Judy saw it coming before it happened. The pass, the opening, the fleeting moment of possibility. Her body moved before her mind had the chance to catch up, instinct kicking in as she took the ball in stride. The weight of it was perfect beneath her feet, its energy rippling through her veins. Without hesitation, she flicked it to the right, knowing - without needing to see - that Valerie was already there.

And of course she was. Like a shadow cast by Judy’s own motion, the blue-haired striker appeared in the exact space she needed her to be. She received the pass and feinted left, sending her marker stumbling. Then, in one fluid motion, she sent the ball back to Judy.

The Argentine backline faltered, scrambling to reorganize as Judy cut left, drawing a defender with her. She didn’t have to look to know Valerie had slipped behind, taking up the space left exposed. A small, knowing smile ghosted across Judy’s lips as she let the ball roll from her foot and broke toward the goal. As expected, Valerie was already moving, already one step ahead, reclaiming possession with a deft touch. The defenders rushed to close the gap, but they were too slow, a second later ball was back at Judy’s feet again.

The exchange between them was seamless, an unspoken rhythm neither had to think about. Like the synchronized beats of a well-rehearsed dance. Judy moved, Valerie followed, and together, they carved through the opposing defense like a blade through silk.

The air buzzed with the mounting tension, the sense of something about to break. Then, Judy saw it - the briefest crack in their rivals’ defensive line. A fraction of space. It was all she needed. She drove forward, the ball at her feet, breath hitching as she prepared to break through - when suddenly, a sharp tug at her jersey yanked her back. Her balance wavered, her body pitching forward, but she didn’t hesitate. With everything she had left, she swung her foot and sent the ball hurtling toward Valerie.

Her stomach clenched as she watched its flight, a sinking dread curling in her chest. The pass was off. It was caught in that awkward in-between space - too low for a header, too high for a clean volley. A miscalculation that could cost them everything. Panic surged within her as she feared she’d wasted their best chance.

But then there was Valerie, impossibly unpredictable, impossibly fearless. Without breaking stride, she launched herself into the air, twisting mid-flight with breathtaking agility, and executed a flawless overhead kick, sending it screaming past the outstretched hands of the goalkeeper. The net rippled as the ball struck home before she even hit the ground.

For a single, weightless moment, time stopped. The entire world was still, suspended in the electrifying silence.

Then the stadium erupted.

The roar hit like a tidal wave, sweeping across the field in a cacophony of screams and cheers. Judy barely heard it, her mind consumed by the rush of adrenaline and the sheer disbelief that pulsed through her veins. She was already moving, legs propelling her forward before her brain could catch up. Across the field, Valerie was on the ground, propped up on her elbows, chest heaving, blue hair wild and shining under the stadium lights. A grin stretched across her face, breathless and triumphant.

Judy didn’t think. She just ran.

And when she reached Valerie, she didn’t slow down. She threw herself forward, crashing into her with full force, tackling her to the ground in a tangle of limbs. The momentum sent them rolling through the grass, the world spinning around them in a dizzying blur of movement, light, and color.

Somewhere in the chaos, they finally stopped. Val ended up on top, straddling Judy’s waist, her hands braced against the ground on either side of her head. Her eyes were alight with triumph, her chest heaving with exhilaration. And then she laughed - bright and wild, a sound so unrestrained and full of joy that it made Judy’s breath catch. It was the purest thing she’d ever heard.  

She was beaming, her happiness so fierce and unfiltered that it burned straight through Judy’s chest. Then, as if drawn by something beyond reason, Valerie leaned down. Her hands came up to cradle Judy’s face, her fingers warm and gentle, reverent in their touch. There was no hesitation, no thought - just raw, unguarded emotion, a force greater than either of them. Their faces hovered inches apart, and Judy felt herself slipping, her breath stuttering in her throat.

And just like that, reality slammed into her like a freight train. The blinding stadium lights, the deafening roar of the crowd, the ever-present cameras capturing their every move. This was too much. Too public. Too exposed. The world was watching, and this was no place for such intimate displays.

Judy saw it in Valerie’s eyes - she wasn’t thinking about any of that. She was caught up in the moment, swept away by adrenaline, by victory, by them. Time stretched thin, each second extending into something fragile and unsteady as their faces drew closer and closer in a suspended ballet of emotion.

Judy opened her mouth, a protest forming, but before she could speak, a blur of motion crashed into them. Valerie was yanked sideways as Panam, with a triumphant, “You’re a legend, Bakker!” came barreling into her, knocking her off balance with the kind of enthusiastic force that could’ve broken bones.

Judy barely had time to react before the rest of the team descended upon them - a tidal wave of bodies and cheers. Valerie’s laughter was swallowed by the celebration, muffled beneath the weight of her teammates as they piled in, shouting, pulling her to her feet, lifting her onto waiting shoulders. She threw her head back, arms outstretched, her expression blissfully unguarded.

Judy stayed where she was for a moment, still sprawled in the grass, heart pounding in a way that had nothing to do with the match. She let out a breathless laugh, shaking her head, before pushing herself up and allowing herself to be swept into the chaos.

The moment - raw, dizzying, electric - was theirs. Only theirs.

The locker room pulsed with unfiltered euphoria, the air thick with sweat, adrenaline, and the electric hum of victory. Laughter and shouts ricocheted off the walls, tangling with the pounding bass of the music, creating a chaotic, almost dizzying atmosphere. Boots stomped against the tiled floor in celebration, hands clapped against backs, shoulders, anything within reach. The energy was infectious, a shared moment of triumph that made the world outside these walls disappear. It felt less like they had won a single group match and more like they had conquered the entire tournament.

Judy leaned against the doorframe, arms folded loosely across her chest, letting herself simply watch. She wasn’t one to get swept up in the storm of bodies and noise, but from where she stood, she could see everything - especially Valerie.

In the center of it all, Val radiated a joy so fierce it was almost blinding. She moved through the celebration with a reckless grace, a wide grin splitting her face, laughter bubbling from her lips without hesitation. Her blue hair was damp with sweat, clinging to her temples, her flushed skin gleaming under the fluorescent lights. For the first time in days, there was no weight pressing down on her shoulders, no shadow of Johnny Silverhand lurking at the edges of her mind. The tension she always carried had melted away, leaving only this moment, and Judy felt something deep inside her twist at the sight.

Rarely did Valerie allow herself to be unguarded like this in front of other people. Rarely did she let herself be happy without reservation. Judy wanted to capture it, to commit every detail to memory, because she knew - this moment was fragile. And it wouldn’t last.

The specter of reality loomed just outside the locker room doors, waiting to pull them back under. Valerie’s surgery was still uncertain. The FIA’s promises were still worth less than dirt. Johnny was still an unshakable presence, an unspoken threat. Even before all that was resolved - hell, before they even could face France in the semifinals - Valerie’s body could betray her, could give out without warning, could leave Judy watching her collapse in the middle of the pitch.

A lot could go wrong.

Judy swallowed hard, pushing the thought away, trying to anchor herself in the now. She didn’t realize someone had come up beside her until an elbow nudged her ribs.

“Looks like someone wanted the whole world to know they’re together, huh?” Rita teased, her grin sharp with amusement. “I don’t recognize you, Cap. Where are all those barriers? What happened to keepin’ business and pleasure separate?”

Judy rolled her eyes, though she felt heat creep up the back of her neck. “Oh, come on, Reet,” she muttered, waving a dismissive hand. “It was just a moment of excitement, nothin’ more.”

But her friend wasn’t buying it. Rita leaned in, that smirk widening as she took in the way Judy squirmed. “Panam really saved you two,” she mused, voice laced with knowing.

Judy exhaled a soft laugh, some of the tension slipping from her shoulders. “Yeah. I definitely owe her one.”

Rita’s playful grin softened into something genuine. She clapped a hand on Judy’s shoulder, giving it a firm squeeze. “I’m really happy for you, Cap,” she said, and there was no teasing in her voice now, only warmth. “But… I need my zombie-slayer back for a bit, y’know? Turbo Dracula’s not gonna defeat itself, and Stout is still absolutely shit at the game. Can’t finish it without my usual partner in crime.” She paused, then nudged Judy again. “How ‘bout you come by tomorrow? We got the day off. You can bring your output along.”

Judy smiled, a wave of nostalgia washing over her. She had been so caught up in Valerie, in FIA, in some rockerboy eating away Val’s brain, in the whirlwind of emotions and uncertainty, that she’d nearly forgotten the parts of herself outside of it. Rita had always been the one to keep her tethered, to remind her who she was when everything else threatened to swallow her whole. If it weren’t for her, Judy might not even be here now. She owed her.

“I’m pretty sure your pussy could use a break, too,” the purple-haired menace added under her breath, voice low and conspiratorial. “Probably bleedin’ from all that rubbin’.”

Judy choked on a laugh, her face heating instantly. “Reet!” she hissed, smacking her friend’s arm in mock outrage. “S’not like that.”

Rita raised an eyebrow, her smirk widening.

Judy tried to glare at her, but it was useless - she was already fighting a grin. And the truth was, no one had ever had this kind of hold on her before. She craved Valerie in a way that went beyond logic, beyond anything she’d ever experienced. But it wasn’t just that. It was the quiet moments, the ease with which they fell into a rhythm. How they navigated mornings together without even thinking about it. How Valerie reached for her in the middle of the night, half-asleep, instinctual. The way they could lay in bed, wrapped around each other, while a shitty Spanish soap opera droned on in the background, and Judy felt more at peace than she had in years.

She didn’t just want Valerie. She needed her.

“Uh-huh, sure, sure,” Rita teased, already retreating into the chaos of the locker room. “Now, go check your phone. Abuela’s probably seen the celebration by now and has something to say about that almost-kiss.”

Judy rolled her eyes but reached for her bag anyway. As soon as she pulled out her phone, the screen lit up with a flood of notifications, the soft glow reflecting the emotions still swirling inside her. She took a slow breath, steadying herself, and opened the first message from her grandmother.

As they moved down the weakly lit hallway, Judy could feel the tension radiating from Valerie like a live wire. It was in the way her eyes darted over every shadowed corner, her shoulders coiled tight, every step measured as if she expected something - or someone - to emerge from the darkness. Judy didn’t say anything at first, hoping the hush between them might help settle whatever storm was brewing inside her. But as they reached the stairwell, that unease took root in Judy’s chest, a quiet but insistent knot tightening with every step.

Halfway down, she stopped. Her hand caught Valerie’s forearm, halting her just before the next flight. The dim glow from the overhead lights cast soft shadows across Valerie’s face, deepening the furrow in her brow, accentuating the worry lingering in her storm-gray eyes.

“What’s wrong, Val?” she asked, her voice low, careful, but edged with concern. “You’ve been weirdly quiet since we left the room. Somethin’ up?”

For a moment, the blue-haired woman hesitated, gaze flickering to the stairs as if searching for the right words among the worn, scuffed steps. Her teeth caught her lower lip, a tell Judy knew all too well. Whatever was weighing on her, she wasn’t sure how to say it.

“S’jus’…” Val exhaled sharply through her nose, like she was irritated at herself for even feeling this way. “Rita’s your best friend.” The words came slow, deliberate, as if each one had to pass through a filter before reaching the air. “I really want her to like me. I know she was pissed at me after… everything. And then, y’know, there’s the whole thing where she clocked me in the face during our first training session. Not the best start.”

Judy blinked. And then, before she could help herself, a quiet laugh bubbled up. It wasn’t mocking, not at all - just surprised, amused by the sheer absurdity of this moment. Valerie - the same Valerie who had stared down death, taken on enemies without flinching - was standing here, worried about whether her best friend approved of her. The lethal, unshakable operative, reduced to nervous gonk at the thought of winning over Rita Wheeler.

Judy’s chest ached with affection. She felt like she was falling deeper in love with this idiot.

Her expression softened as she reached out, tucking a stray lock of blue hair behind Valerie’s ear before letting her fingers rest lightly on her shoulder. “Reet’s a tough cookie, no doubt,” she said with a small smile. “But she’s all bark, no bite. She acts like she’s got somethin’ to prove, but underneath all that? She’s got the biggest heart.” Judy tilted her head, studying Valerie’s face. “You get her talkin’ about video games, and you’re golden.”

Something flickered across Valerie’s face, a hint of nostalgia cutting through the worry. “Used to play a lot at the barracks when I was a kid,” she admitted, voice softer now.

Judy gave her hand a reassuring squeeze, feeling the slight tremor in Val’s fingers. “See?” she murmured, nudging her shoulder. “You’ve got this. Just be yourself.”

Their footsteps echoed faintly in the narrow corridor, the quiet hum of the building settling around them. Valerie took a steadying breath as they approached Rita’s door. The nerves were still there, but her smile - small, tentative - was real. Judy’s knuckles tapped softly against the wood, the rhythmic beat breaking the silence. A second later, Rita’s voice rang out from the other side, a casual, effortless cheer, announcing the doors were opened. Judy glanced at Valerie one last time, catching the fleeting nervousness in her gray eyes. Val straightened, squared her shoulders, and gave a nod - not entirely steady, but determined.

With a grin, Judy turned the handle. Inside, Rita’s room was its usual controlled chaos - crumpled chip bags and empty soda cans scattered across the floor like the remnants of a battlefield. Judy stepped inside, Valerie just behind her, and as the door clicked shut, she could only hope Rita wouldn’t make this too hard on her girl.

Then again, this was Reet. She loved torturing everyone.

The defender was sprawled on the bed with an air of languid comfort, her purple hair spread out in a tousled halo against the pillow, resembling a disheveled crown. She had one arm draped over her eyes, shielding her from the lamp’s gentle glow, while her other hand clutched a tablet.

Before Judy could even utter a greeting, Val’s focus snapped to something else entirely - something that lit up her face with a kind of unfiltered joy Judy rarely saw. It was the kind of wonder usually reserved for wide-eyed kids unwrapping presents on Christmas morning. “Fuck me,” Valerie breathed, her voice reverent, hushed.

Judy followed her gaze and barely suppressed a chuckle. Stacked haphazardly beside Rita’s gaming console was an impressive collection of game cases, a shrine to indulgence and long, sleepless nights. In an instant, Valerie was on her knees, hands already rifling through the titles like they were precious relics. She turned them over in her hands, mouth parting in disbelief. Judy felt warmth bloom in her chest, amusement curling her lips into an involuntary smile.

“I can’t believe how many games you have!”

A snicker came from the bed. Rita had finally peeled her arm away from her face, watching the spectacle with obvious delight. “Glad you brought your kid along, Jude,” she teased, grinning wide. “I was half-expectin’ you’d show up solo, but this? This is way better.”

Judy laughed, shaking her head. Yeah, it really was.

This—this was what she wanted for Valerie. A moment of normalcy. No looking over their shoulders, no looming threats, no weight of impossible choices hanging over, no wariness etched into Val’s sharp features. Just this - an evening of easy company, games and shit-talking, the kind of night most people took for granted but Valerie had been denied for far too long. And Judy wanted her to have it. To taste it. To know what life could be, beyond the fight to survive.

Rita swung her legs off the bed, smirking. “Some people buy shoes,” she said with a lazy shrug, though there was a distinct note of pride in her voice, “I buy games. Pick whatever you want, kiddo. We’ve got the whole night ahead of us, and I’m not lettin’ you leave without seein’ if you can actually hold your own.”

Valerie’s laughter rang out, bright and unrestrained, any lingering nerves from earlier dissipating into the air like smoke. She finally settled on a game, holding it up like a prized trophy. “Alright, Reet. Let’s see what you’ve got. But fair warning—I’m not goin’ easy on you.”

Judy made her way to the bed, sitting beside Rita, her shoulders brushing against her friend’s in silent appreciation. The defender caught the look and shot her a knowing wink. No words needed.

As Rita powered up the console, Valerie didn’t hesitate to make herself comfortable. She slipped between Judy’s legs, settling back against her, her head resting easily against Judy’s chest. The moment felt easy, natural - like something they had done a hundred times before, even though it was still new, still fragile in its own way.

Judy exhaled, letting the tension melt away as her fingers slid into Valerie’s hair, combing through the soft strands in a slow, absentminded rhythm. Val sighed at the touch, tilting her head slightly into the affection, and when she looked up at Judy, her eyes were bright, her smile soft and content.

Rita took in the scene with that smug, amused grin, but said nothing. The console booted up, filling the room with the soft hum of its startup sequence, and she tossed a controller to Valerie.

“Bring it on, rook,” she said, cracking her knuckles. “Let’s see if you can keep up.”

Conversations ebbed and flowed around, quiet murmurs of strategy and speculation blending with the low hum of the game’s commentary. The hotel’s conference room was small, a far cry from what Judy was used to at the Dolls’ facilities, but it had everything that mattered - four walls, a big screen, and enough seats for the team to squeeze in together.

Judy sat with her arms crossed, her gaze locked on the screen, barely blinking. Valerie was beside her, elbows on her knees, fingers loosely laced together as if keeping herself from fidgeting.

They were watching the screen with an intensity that had little to do with national loyalty. France winning their battle with Brazil meant more than just a favorable playoff bracket - it meant a chance to complete the mission. It meant Valerie’s surgery could be secured.

That knowledge coiled tight in Judy’s chest, a heavy weight pressing against her ribs. She kept her face neutral, but beneath the table, her fingers drummed a restless rhythm against her thigh, the only outward sign of her nerves.

The game played out on the screen before her, but Judy barely saw it. The movements, the passes, the thunderous clash of bodies - it all blurred at the edges, distant and unimportant. Her thoughts refused to stay tethered to the present, slipping away like wisps of smoke, drawn instead to the other night. To the sharp bite of the cold air, the quiet desolation of the abandoned basketball court, the weight of Reed’s words settling like a stone in her chest.

Days had passed since that meeting, since the truth had been laid bare before her, raw and undeniable. And yet, it still hadn’t fully settled. It hovered at the edges of her mind, an itch she refused to scratch, a storm brewing on the horizon that she wasn’t ready to face.

But then, like a ghost unwilling to rest, Reed’s voice echoed through her thoughts - a grim, unshakable reminder of the tightrope Valerie now walked. Judy swallowed against the unease creeping up her throat, forcing herself to focus. On the match. On anything but the words that had left her sleepless since that night.

Still, distraction proved impossible. From across the room, Alex’s gaze flickered toward them, keen and assessing. A silent reminder that she was being watched. A constant presence in the days since the meeting. Judy didn’t flinch under the scrutiny. She had expected this. Had braced for it. Valerie needed her to be strong now, and Judy refused to waver.

Beside her, Rita had taken notice. The defender leaned back, a smirk tugging at the corner of her lips as she nudged Judy’s elbow and spoke just loud enough for their corner of the room to hear.

“Looks like someone’s caught Daphne’s eye.”

Judy tensed. She exchanged the briefest glance with Valerie - a silent conversation, layered beneath careful indifference. The truth was so twisted, so far-fetched, that Rita couldn’t possibly guess why their teammate kept casting glances her way. She wasn’t watching Judy for the reason they assumed. She wasn’t intrigued, wasn’t smitten, wasn’t interested - she was keeping tabs, ensuring Judy kept her mouth shut about what had gone down the other night. About what was coming next.

The whole situation was almost laughable. Who would believe her if she said that among their ranks were two spies, set to use some experimental technology to scan another team’s player and then use that player’s face to infiltrate a criminal organization? It sounded like the plot of a cheesy action movie, yet this was the reality she now faced.

Rebecca, always one to stir the pot, grinned and leaned in. “Maybe she just can’t take her eyes off how stunning Lucy’s been looking lately. And, you know, still very much available,” she teased, casting a sideways glance at Valerie, clearly referencing the past when Lucy’s interest had gone unreturned.

Rita scoffed. “Maybe it’s for the best. Lucy needs to move on anyway.”

Judy’s eyes snapped to Rita’s, sharp and warning. This wasn’t the time, wasn’t the place. The tangled mess between her, Valerie, and Lucy was theirs to handle - not fodder for team chatter. But their teammates loved the gossip, enjoyed pressing buttons, relished awkward moments.

“If someone didn’t treat her like shit and jumped into someone else’s bed so quickly—" Rebecca started, her tone edged with something dangerous, but she never got to finish, because Valerie’s glare cut through the air like a blade, silencing her.

“Look, none of us know the whole story,” Rita interjected, hands raised as if to calm the waters. “So maybe we should all just shut up about it… unless you two feel like sharing.”

Judy could feel the weight of Valerie’s exhaustion beside her. A sigh, a quiet shift, and then Val dropped her face into her hands in resignation. Valerie had told her the truth now, all of it. The real reason she had sought Lucy out. The desperate search for information, for a link to the Soulkiller project, to Arasaka.

Lucy had been a part of a puzzle - connected to David Martinez, the kid who had made waves before his spectacular fall. A legend in his own right, one whose story had ended with Arasaka’s cold, impersonal efficiency. Valerie had suspected, had hoped, that maybe Martinez hadn’t simply been erased. That maybe, like Johnny, his construct had been stored, his engram locked away somewhere. And maybe Lucy knew something about this. But she had nothing - either because she didn’t know or because she refused to open up. And Valerie hadn’t pressed. It wasn’t important anymore.

Judy also knew that, from the start, Valerie had never misled Lucy. She had never let things get further than they should, never offered false hope. From the moment Lucy made her interest clear, Val had let her down gently but firmly. But rejection left bruises, no matter how carefully it was delivered, and the midfielder had been angry, at first. Lately, though, something had shifted. Judy had caught glimpses of it - the way Lucy seemed more at ease around her, the way the sharp edges of her resentment had dulled. Maybe she had simply found peace.

“We don’t feel like sharing, so just drop it,” Lucy said, dismissive with a wave of her hand. “And as for Daphne… you’re all reading way too much into it. I’m not interested, and neither is she. Let’s just focus on the game.”

The words settled heavily in the air, final and immovable. Any further speculation died then and there, attention shifting back to the match.

As the game played on, Judy caught a few more glances from Alex across the room - each one more pointed than the last. It was a slow, simmering thing, the kind of tension that coiled tight beneath the surface, invisible to anyone not paying attention. But Judy was paying attention. And so was Valerie.

The blue-haired woman had been holding onto her composure by a thread, her jaw set, her fingers curling and uncurling where they rested on her thigh. Then, finally, a low, frustrated growl slipped from her throat, quiet but unmistakable. She stood up, muttering something about needing the restroom. Judy’s gaze followed her, tracking the barely restrained energy rippling through her body, the stiffness in her shoulders, the way her strides were a little too controlled. Valerie was nearing her breaking point, that much was clear.

As she neared the exit, her hand flicked - a small, nearly imperceptible gesture. An invitation. Judy didn’t even have to look to know Alex had seen it.

Just before Val disappeared behind the doors, their eyes met. For a fleeting second, the storm in Valerie’s gaze softened. A silent promise passed between them - a reassurance that she wasn’t about to do anything reckless. Judy held onto that, exhaling slowly, choosing trust over worry.

A few moments later, movement stirred in her periphery. The midfielder stood from her seat, taking a slow, measured sip of her drink before setting it down and making her way toward the door. Judy knew something was about to unfold. But this time, she wouldn’t make the same mistake - she wouldn’t follow. She had to trust Valerie to handle it, to find her own way through the confrontation. To not let it escalate into something that would end with broken bones and bruised knuckles.

As the doors swung shut behind Alex, Judy took a deep breath, forcing herself to shift her attention back to the game playing out on the screen. The room around her pulsed with energy, the anticipation thick in the air, because France had earned a corner kick. Every pair of eyes was locked on the ball as it sailed through the air. Aurore Cassel emerged from the thong of players, her leap powerful, her header brutal in its accuracy. The ball slammed into the back of the net, sending a ripple of reactions through the room. Discussions sparked instantly, murmurs of defensive adjustments, of how to counter plays like that.

But Judy barely heard them. What she saw, what she felt, was something else entirely. Her focus was fixed on the woman celebrating on the screen, the woman Valerie would have to approach - the linchpin of a mission that meant everything.

Her mind spiraled, twisting through the labyrinth of possibilities, the what-ifs, the risks Valerie was about to take. She thought of the name Valerie had given her condition, spoken with that sharp, dry humor meant to hide something deeper—Silverhandosis. A cruel joke that masked the very real fear. After all, that bastard was killing her.

This mission was a gamble with impossible odds. Valerie was betting her future - her life - on this one precarious chance, throwing everything she had left onto the table. It wasn’t just about survival. It was about freedom. It was about the life they had dared to imagine. The future they could still have.

Judy felt the weight press down on her chest, the unbearable pressure of knowing how fragile it all was, how easily it could slip through their fingers. She understood the stakes, the razor-thin line Valerie was walking. But she couldn’t afford to dwell on the worst-case scenarios. She had to stay sharp, to do whatever it took to make sure Valerie made it through this.

The celebration on the screen faded into white noise. Judy barely noticed Valerie’s return until she felt it - a touch, grounding and warm. A gentle squeeze on her knee. She snapped back into the present, her thoughts still tangled in worry as she turned her gaze toward the blue-haired woman. Instinctively, her eyes scanned Valerie’s body for any sign of trouble. No bloodied knuckles. No forming bruises. No sharpness in her expression that hinted at barely contained rage. Just cool gray eyes meeting hers, steady and searching.

Valerie leaned in, her voice low and husky as she murmured in her ear, “I talked with Alex. She’ll keep her distance.”

Judy let out a slow breath, nodding subtly. Some of the tension in her body started uncoiling.

Steam curled in thick ribbons around the small bathroom, clinging to the mirrors and walls, turning the space into a dim, misty cocoon. The hot water pounded against Judy’s skin, trailing down her shoulders and spine in rivulets as she stood beneath the spray, eyes closed, letting the heat work into her sore muscles. The ache from their earlier training session had settled deep, but the water dulled its edge, made it easier to breathe.

Beyond the sound of rushing water, the faint scrape of a toothbrush reached her ears. Valerie stood by the sink, methodically brushing her teeth, her damp blue hair darkened and plastered against the back of her neck. When she glanced toward Judy through the fogged-up mirror, her gaze was something quiet, something warm - something that passed between them without the need for words.

They had the evening to themselves. Some of their teammates had opted for a walk through the city, taking in the nightlife while they still had the chance. Others had gathered by the basement pool, unwinding before tomorrow’s match. But Judy and Valerie had chosen a slow, quiet night in their room, wrapped in warmth and in each other, away from everything.

With a deep breath, Judy reached for the handle, twisting it until the water sputtered to a stop. The sudden chill in the air prickled against her heated skin as she stepped out, grabbing a towel and wrapping it securely around her. She padded toward the sink, watching Valerie in the mirror. She was brushing her teeth with the same methodical precision that she seemed to apply to everything in life.

“Hey,” Judy started, breaking the comfortable silence, “what did you say to Alex earlier to get her off our backs?”

Valerie flicked her gaze to her, toothbrush still lodged in her mouth and mumbled something unintelligible around the foam. The words came out as a garbled mess of syllables.

Judy huffed a laugh, shaking her head. “Babe, you gotta spit before you try to talk.”

Valerie rolled her eyes but obliged, leaning over the sink to rinse her mouth. When she straightened again, she wiped a stray drop of water from her chin with the back of her hand and finally turned to face Judy fully.

“I just told her to ease up with the fuck-eyes,” Valerie said, voice casual, as if she was discussing the weather. “Mentioned that other people were starting to notice, and stirring up drama isn’t exactly gonna help our mission.”

Judy lifted an eyebrow, arms crossing loosely over her chest. “That’s all it took? You just told her to back off, and she listened?”

A slow smirk tugged at the corner of Valerie’s lips. “More or less,” she admitted. “I may have hinted that you’re not someone she wants to mess with. I mean, you could easily kick her ass. And I’d be happy to help.”

Judy exhaled a soft laugh. “You’re impossible.”

Valerie’s grin widened, her eyes gleaming with playful mischief as she turned back to the mirror. She reached for her cleanser, squeezing a bit of the liquid onto her fingers before gently massaging it into her skin. “Yeah, but you love me anyway.”

Judy didn’t argue. Instead, she stepped closer, sliding her arms around Valerie’s waist, pressing her still-warm body against her. The scent of her skin, faintly tinged with mint and soap, filled the space between them, grounding her, calming something restless in her chest. Judy tightened her hold, resting her chin lightly on Valerie’s shoulder before rising on her tiptoes and tilting her head to press a slow, lingering kiss to the damp skin at the nape of her neck.

“Yeah,” she murmured against her. “I do.”

Judy felt the subtle tremor that run through Valerie’s body, a shudder she recognized as her own unspoken victory. By now, she knew the map of Valerie’s skin better than any skyline. She knew the exact places where a touch could unravel her, where a kiss could steal the breath from her lungs or make her voice catch in her throat. The back of her neck, the scar that marked her ribcage, the sensitive dip of her inner thigh, the delicate skin just behind her ear - Judy had learned them all. And she loved nothing more than to explore them, to trace and tease and watch as Val came undone beneath her hands.

She pressed her lips to Valerie’s spine, lingering as she traced the ridge of it with slow, reverent kisses. Her fingers found the scar along Val’s side, brushing over it lightly, a whisper of touch that sent another shiver through her lover’s body. Valerie exhaled sharply, a hiss slipping through clenched teeth, and Judy smiled against her skin, savoring every reaction, every small surrender.

“Jude?” Valerie’s voice, hushed and rough, broke the quiet.

Judy didn’t answer immediately, just let her teeth graze over Valerie’s shoulder, a teasing flicker of contact before she murmured, “Yeah, Val?” The grin she wore curled at the edges of her words, playful and knowing.

Valerie leaned forward, bracing herself against the sink to rinse her face, her blue hair falling forward like a curtain. “Thought you said you wanted to chill,” she remarked, a smirk tugging at her lips, the accusation in her tone purely for show.

Judy hummed, dragging her lips along Valerie’s shoulder blade before pressing a slow, open-mouthed kiss there. “And what do you think I’m doin’?” she whispered, letting the heat of her breath and the weight of her touch answer for her.

But before she could press her advantage, the blue-haired woman moved. Fast. With a sudden, fluid motion that left Judy breathless, Val spun, gripping her firmly and lifting her off the ground as if she weighed nothing. Judy gasped, laughter catching in her throat as she was placed onto the countertop, the cool stone a stark contrast to the heat pooling between them.

Valerie didn’t give her a second to recover. She was already between her legs, already leaning in, her lips finding the soft curve of Judy’s jaw before trailing downward, slow and deliberate. Each kiss was a brand, a mark left behind with careful intent. Judy tilted her head instinctively, offering more, her pulse hammering in response to every feather-light caress. Her legs wrapped around Valerie’s waist unconsciously, drawing her closer. Her hands found their way into the strands of blue hair, fingers weaving through the silk of it as she tugged - just enough to guide, to tease, to remind Val exactly who was in control.

Valerie pulled back slightly, and Judy caught the look in her eyes - a hunger, deep and primal, darkening the gray of them to something molten. She shivered beneath the weight of that gaze, her breath hitching as Valerie’s fingers traced the edge of the towel still wrapped loosely around her body.

And then, with an excruciating slowness, she nudged it aside. The fabric pooled around Judy’s hips, leaving her bare beneath the intensity of Valerie’s starving gaze. Her chest rose and fell with each shallow breath, her skin prickling under the scrutiny, though there was no hesitation in the way she met Valerie’s eyes, a teasing glint flickering there. The thrill of being so openly admired, so intimately exposed, sent a shiver of anticipation coursing through her whole body.

“Enjoyin’ the view?” she purred, voice sultry, edged with playful defiance that seemed to shrink the space between them with palpable desire.

Valerie didn’t answer with words. Instead, her fingers found their way back to Judy’s skin, tracing over her waist, skimming the gentle curve of her ribs, moving with an aching patience that set Judy’s pulse racing. It was maddening, the contrast between the intense hunger in Val’s eyes and the tenderness of her touch. The air between them felt charged, thick with unspoken promises, with the weight of anticipation.

Then Valerie kissed her - kissed her like she was something that belong to her, something worth savoring. Her lips moved with a desperate kind of reverence, stealing the air from Judy’s lungs, leaving her lightheaded. One hand tangled in Judy’s hair, fingers tilting her chin just so, deepening the kiss until it became something heated, something raw. The other settled on her hip, fingers pressing in with a roughness and possessiveness that sent a tremor rolling down Judy’s spine.

She moaned softly into Valerie’s mouth, her body arching into her touch, surrendering to the pull between them, to the slow, consuming fire that threatened to burn her from the inside out. And Judy had always thought she knew flames - had lived with them in her chest, in the burn of Night City’s neon glow, in the sting of heartbreak. But nothing, nothing, burned quite like this.

Her fingers tangled in Valerie’s damp hair, her grip tightening with a desperation that bordered on instinct, urging her closer, dragging her deeper. Her body arched into the warmth of Valerie’s mouth, the sensation of lips and breath against her skin not nearly enough to quench the fire surging beneath her ribs. She needed more, craved more, and without thinking, she guided Valerie’s hands to her breasts, her own breathing uneven, ragged with want. Their eyes met, and there, in the silent exchange, Judy pleaded without words.

Don’t stop.

Valerie understood. A smirk curled at the edges of her lips before she yielded to Judy’s silent request. Her palms started mapping out the contours of Judy’s body. Her touch was steady, confident, coaxing heat to bloom beneath Judy’s skin as her fingers kneaded and teased with a patience that sent Judy’s pulse skittering. Then, as if drawn by desperate need, Valerie dipped her head and found the curve of Judy’s neck, her lips pressing into the sensitive hollow just below her jaw. A soft bite - sharp enough to steal Judy’s breath, gentle enough to make her ache for more. Then, she soothed the mark with her tongue, the sensation sending a ripple of pleasure down Judy’s spine.

It was overwhelming. The way Valerie moved, the way she touched, kissed, consumed - each moment more intoxicating than the last, leaving Judy drowning in the current of it all. Her hips shifted, rolling upward in search of friction, her body betraying the desperate need pooling low in her stomach. But Valerie was in no hurry. She let Judy writhe, let her beg with the tilt of her hips and the whimpers escaping her mouth, drawing out every second, every pulse of need until time itself seemed to stretch unbearably thin.

Judy shuddered as Valerie’s hand finally, finally ventured lower, tracing slow, aimless patterns down the expanse of her stomach. Each movement sent a ripple through her, the teasing drag of fingers over hypersensitive skin stoking the embers of a fire already burning too hot. The anticipation was suffocating, her breath coming in shallow bursts as Valerie’s fingertips ghosted over her navel and tattoo, then lowered, their path maddeningly unhurried.

A sharp gasp lodged itself in Judy’s throat the moment Valerie’s fingers parted her, the first tentative stroke sending a shockwave through her limbs. The touch was featherlight, exploratory, as though Val wanted her to feel everything - the slick heat spreading beneath careful fingertips, the aching want coiling in her core. Judy’s head fell against her lover’s shoulder, her lips parting in a soundless plea. She arched automatically, chasing more, but strong hands steadied her - a firm, commanding grip pressing her hips back down into the countertop. Val’s quiet chuckle in her ear was both indulgent and admonishing.

It was effortless, the way Valerie controlled her movements - one touch and Judy was right where she wanted her, trembling under the slow, languid drag of fingers that never quite gave her enough. The need built steadily, spiraling higher with each deliberate stroke, each unhurried pass over the place she wanted her most. It was torment, exquisite and unbearable.

Judy bit her lip to keep from begging too soon, but her body betrayed her. She was shaking now, searching for more friction, more pressure, more of anything that would bring her relief. But Valerie was merciless in her patience. Her fingers edged lower, teasing at her entrance, pressing just enough to make Judy insane. The anticipation was a constant ache, coiling tighter and tighter. Then, just when she thought she would come apart from waiting, she felt it - Valerie’s fingers slipping inside, a slow, deliberate push that shattered her composure.

A cry broke from her lips, breathless and raw.

Valerie’s movements remained measured, each thrust and curl deliberate, coaxing rather than overwhelming. The pad of her thumb found Judy’s clit, tracing delicate circles, the rhythm unhurried, devastating in its precision. It sent a fresh surge of heat rushing through her veins, pleasure cresting higher and higher. If Val quickened her pace, if she pressed just a little harder - Judy knew she would be lost, reduced to nothing more than a quivering, incoherent mess beneath her.

"Such a good, little slut. So obedient."

The words didn’t belong to Valerie. They slithered up from the depths of her memory, unwelcome and insidious, creeping into the otherwise blissful haze. The realization struck cold, an ugly fissure splitting through the pleasure, seeping doubt into the spaces between every touch. For a moment, Judy felt like she wasn’t here - not in Valerie’s arms, not cherished and safe, but somewhere else, some other time when surrender had meant something far different. Her pulse faltered, her body tensing as a familiar unease crept in. She could hear it, the echo of a past lover’s voice, low and taunting.

"You’re nothing more than a toy to me."

Judy’s breath hitched, her mind caught in the dissonance of past and present, body and memory warring for control. The weight of old wounds threatened to pull her under, but she fought it, grounding herself in the warmth of Valerie’s touch.

Val was different. She wasn’t cruel. She wasn’t like the others who had taken without giving, who had left Judy feeling hollow and discarded. She kissed her with reverence, touched her with patience, never pushed beyond what Judy was willing to give. She was the one who stayed, who held Judy when she was spent and gasping, who nurtured rather than abandoned.

The shift in the atmosphere did not go unnoticed. Valerie stilled slightly, though her fingers still moved with that same gentle persistence. She tilted her head, her gaze sharp and searching as she studied Judy’s expression.

“Is something wrong?” she murmured, husky and raw with restrained desire, but laced with concern all the same.

Judy shook her head, though the word that left her lips was unconvincing, “N-no.” Her grip on Valerie’s neck tightened, pulling her closer as though proximity alone could dispel the ghosts lingering at the edges of her mind.

Valerie eased back slightly, the hand between Judy’s legs retreating, replaced instead by the warmth of her palm gliding soothingly along Judy’s side. A kiss, featherlight and grounding, pressed to Judy’s cheek. Then another. Valerie leaned in, resting their foreheads together, her breath warm against Judy’s lips. “Hey,” she whispered, voice a quiet balm, “you’re safe. If you need me to stop, just say the word.”

"See, came all over my fingers. Stopping wasn’t necessary."

Judy exhaled shakily, trying to push the memories aside. “It’s just…” Her words faltered, but she brushed her lips against Valerie’s anyway, a silent reassurance that she had done nothing wrong. “It’s just my past creeping up on me at the worst possible moment. My exes—they used to take advantage whenever I gave up control. Whenever I showed any weakness.”

Valerie’s eyes softened, understanding blooming in their stormy depths. “Hey, I get it,” she said, her voice warm, steady. “And I won’t. I meant what I said—if something doesn’t feel right, you just have to tell me. I’ll stop. No questions asked.”

“I know,” Judy murmured, firmer now. “I know and I trust you, Val. It’s just my messed-up head.”

Valerie huffed a quiet laugh, her hands resuming their slow, comforting glide along Judy’s sides. “Hey, I’m the one hearing voices,” she teased lightly, her tone coaxing a small, genuine smile from Judy. “I’m the crazy one in this relationship. Don’t take that away from me.”

Judy arched an eyebrow. “Relationship?” she echoed.

Valerie hesitated, suddenly looking as uncertain as Judy had felt moments before. “I mean… we haven’t really talked about it,” she admitted, her voice a tentative whisper. “But I was hoping… I could call you my girlfriend.”

Judy let out a quiet, incredulous laugh. The contrast was almost endearing - one moment Valerie had been taking charge with fierce, unrelenting passion, fucking her senseless, and the next, she was blushing over something as simple as a label. The vulnerability in it, the quiet longing, made Judy’s heart ache in the best way.

She knew this wasn’t the end of the conversation, just the beginning, a prelude to a deeper dialogue about their future. But for now, it was enough.

“Of course you can,” she whispered. “I’m yours.”

She leaned in, capturing Valerie’s lips in a kiss that was slow, deliberate - infused with every feeling she couldn’t quite put into words. A quiet confession. A plea. A promise. Valerie met her in kind, matching the tenderness of the moment.

“And you’re mine.”

The heat simmering between them was impossible to ignore, coiling just beneath the surface, waiting to be set ablaze. And then, like embers catching fire, the kiss deepened. What began as gentle reverence morphed into something fervent and primal. Judy pressed harder, her fingers slipping into the soft tangle of Val’s hair, tugging slightly as her teeth caught her lower lip in a rough, teasing bite. She swallowed the quiet gasp Valerie let out. The sound sent a thrill through her, a pulse of need that left her dizzy.

She guided Valerie’s hand, slipping it between them, back to where it had been before - to where she needed her most. The movement was both a request and a demand, a wordless surrender and an insistence all at once. She wanted Valerie to finish what she started. And also, Judy wanted her to know she trusted her. That, despite the way her thoughts sometimes stray, despite the ghosts that lingered in the corners of her mind, she was here, with her, fully and completely. That she was hers.

Valerie seemed to understand. The moment her fingers met slick heat, her touch grew surer, more purposeful. A slow exhale ghosted over Judy’s skin as Valerie’s fingers traced a familiar path, teasing, exploring, until her middle and ringer fingers finally pressed in. A deep, curling motion, measured but certain. Judy let out a shaky breath, her body instinctively shifting to take her in.

When their eyes met, Valerie hesitated for a fraction of a second, watching her, waiting for any flicker of doubt. Judy’s lips parted, a quiet moan escaping before she could even think to suppress it. A breathless sound of pleasure, of permission. Valerie smirked, just slightly, before nodding, reassured. Her thumb found Judy’s clit, circling in slow, calculated movements, sending sharp sparks of heat up her spine. Judy’s breath hitched, her digits tightening in Valerie’s hair, holding on to the only thing grounding her in this moment.

The pleasure built quickly. The steady rhythm of Valerie’s fingers, the pressure of her thumb - it was too much and not enough all at once. Judy’s body tensed, her hips rocking to meet Valerie’s hand, desperate for more, for that final push. She tried to form words, to give some sort of warning, but they dissolved into a series of gasping whimpers, swallowed whole by the heat pressing in around her.

Valerie knew. Of course she knew. Her pace quickened, her fingers pressing deeper, her thumb circling faster, and Judy—Judy shattered. A broken moan tore from her lips, her head falling back against the wall as the pleasure washed over her in waves, dragging her under, weightless and untethered. Her world narrowed to nothing but sensation - the warmth of Valerie’s body against her own, the relentless ecstasy that rippled through every nerve, the way her name fell in a whisper from Valerie’s lips as she held her through it.

She barely registered the way her limbs felt boneless, the way she sagged against Valerie, panting and spent. A strong arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her in, keeping her from drifting too far. Somewhere in the haze, she felt herself being lifted, Valerie’s grip steady and sure, carrying her away from the cool surface of the bathroom counter and into the familiar comfort of their bed. She barely stirred as she was lowered onto the mattress, the weight of Valerie settling beside her seconds later. A soft hand traced idle patterns along her side, a grounding touch, as if to remind her that she wasn’t alone.

Finally, Judy’s eyes fluttered open, still dazed, still floating somewhere between exhaustion and bliss. She barely had the strength to lift her head, but when she did, she found Valerie watching her. Her gray eyes were dark with satisfaction and a slow, knowing smile tugged at her mouth.

“That good, huh?”

Judy let out a breathless, incredulous laugh, shaking her head as she reached for her, pulling her into a lazy, sated kiss. “Shut up,” she murmured against her lips, grinning.

Valerie huffed a quiet laugh, brushing damp strands of hair away from Judy’s face. “Are you okay?” she asked, voice tinged with something that almost sounded like worry. “I think I lost you there for a minute.”

Judy let out a small, weary sigh. “I’m fine, might have passed out for a second,” she admitted, a faint, embarrassed smile playing at her lips.

She could see it in Valerie’s eyes - the immediate flicker of concern, the way her gaze darted toward the desk where a half-full bottle of water sat, the way she moved as if to rise. But before she could, Judy reached out, fingers trembling slightly as she caught her wrist.

“Just…” she swallowed, her voice quieter now, almost fragile. “Just hold me for a moment. Okay?”

The floodgates of her memory opened once more, carrying with them a tide of past hurts. She had asked this question countless times before, though in the past, that plea had never been met with the warmth she longed for. The request had been laughed off, dismissed with a smirk, a roll of the eyes. Or worse, an excuse was muttered into the dark before she was left alone, staring at the empty space beside her, tears soaking the pillow.

She braced herself for disappointment, for Valerie to brush her off, for history to repeat itself.

But then the blue-haired woman smiled, soft and knowing, and without hesitation, she pulled Judy in. Their bodies pressed together, fitting so easily it was as if they were made for this. Valerie tucked Judy’s head against her shoulder, fingers resuming their soothing patterns on her back.

No teasing, no reluctance. Just quiet, steady presence.

Judy blinked against the sudden sting in her eyes, a sharp contrast to the warmth pooling in her chest. The realization settled over her slowly, sinking deep. For the first time, she wasn’t being tolerated. Wasn’t being brushed aside. Wasn’t being called clingy and needy. She was being held, cherished, as if her need for closeness wasn’t a burden, but a privilege. Judy felt a profound sense of belonging, not the isolation she had grown accustomed to.

Valerie wasn’t going anywhere. She was here to stay.

Judy padded quietly across the room, her bare feet sinking into the plush carpet as she made her way to where Valerie’s duffel bag lay abandoned by the dresser. The remnants of their day had left her pleasantly sore, a warmth humming beneath her skin, but practicality pulled at her now - she had forgotten to collect her clothes from the hotel’s laundry service, and with it now closed, she was left with few options. The night air against her bare skin was pleasant enough, but she wanted something to wrap herself in. Something warm. Something Valerie.

The zipper rasped softly as she eased the bag open, fingers slipping into the organized chaos of Valerie’s belongings. Folded shirts, training gear, a tangle of wires and chargers. She sifted through layers of fabric until her fingers brushed against soft cotton buried deep beneath the rest. Tugging it free, she held it up to the weak light - a faded, worn Samurai t-shirt, a copy of the one Valerie had given her back in Night City. The sight of it stirred something deep inside her, an ache she couldn't name, settling warm and steady in her chest.

A quiet smile curved her lips as she pulled the shirt over her head. The fabric draped over her body, hanging loosely past her hips, the lingering scent of Valerie wrapping around her like an embrace. She rolled the sleeves slightly, fingers smoothing down the hem before turning back toward the bed. Triumphant and cozy.

Valerie lay sprawled across the mattress, her body a canvas of pale, bare skin and the lingering glow of their earlier passion. The faint light from the window cast long shadows over her form, highlighting the subtle sheen of sweat clinging to her skin. The sheets, tangled and rumpled around her, bore testament to the moments they had spent unraveling each other. Judy’s gaze traced the curve of her back, the way her ribs shifted slightly with each slow, steady breath. There was something so profoundly beautiful about her in that moment - unguarded, serene, her usual sharp edges softened by exhaustion.

"Found something to wear," Judy announced softly, amusement threading through her voice as she perched at the edge of the bed. She watched as Valerie stirred and moved around, eyes fluttering open, slow and lazy, before flickering to the shirt she wore. A smirk played at the corners of her lips, dark eyes raking over Judy with something like satisfaction.

"I love it when you wear my clothes," Val rasped, her voice thick with sleep and lingering desire. She stretched out an arm, an unspoken invitation, and Judy didn’t hesitate. She slid beneath the covers, letting Valerie’s warmth seep into her bones as she nestled close.

“I thought you preferred me without any clothes.”

“True,” Valerie murmured, her lips ghosting over Judy’s temple, “but my clothes come in a close second.”

Judy laughed softly, but something unspoken coiled in her chest, the memory surfacing before she could stop it.

“I bought you this, and you will wear it, whether you like it or not.”

The ghost of Fiona’s voice lanced through her mind, sharp and cruel, cutting through the moment like a blade. She swallowed hard, pushing the thought away. Valerie wasn’t Fiona. She wasn’t here to use her, to discard her when she was no longer useful. Their relationship wasn’t built on debts or expectations. This was different. It had to be.

Valerie's touch was grounding, her fingers tracing slow, absent-minded patterns along Judy’s spine. The sincerity of her, the way she held her without demand, made the tension ease from Judy’s body.

And for a while, they simply lay there, tangled in the sheets, breathing in sync. That night, when they weren’t fucking each other’s brains out, they spent it talking, sifting through old memories, trading pieces of their pasts like fragile offerings. Judy found herself speaking more freely than she ever had before, revealing stories she had long kept locked away. She told Valerie about her childhood, about growing up with her grandparents, about the first time she ever played in a real tournament and the weight of expectation that came with it. Valerie listened without interruption, humming softly in acknowledgment, her hand never ceasing in its gentle strokes along Judy’s back.

But there were things Judy still couldn't bring herself to say. She steered clear of the darker corners of her past - the mistakes, the betrayals, the brutal reality of her rookie season in Night City. And until this moment – she thought she wasn’t ready to unravel that part of herself just yet. A part of her feared what Valerie would think, feared that her gaze might change, the way she might see her as something less - less capable, less strong, less worthy. Just another pathetic girl who had been used up and tossed aside.

She could stop here. She could close her eyes, pretend she was exhausted, and let sleep carry her away before the weight of memory could pull her under. Valerie would never push. She never asked for more than Judy was willing to give.

But tonight, in Val’s arms, accompanied by the steady rise and fall of her lover’s breath against her skin, Judy felt something she hadn’t in a long time - a desire not just to be seen, but to be understood. The thought alone was enough to stir fear deep in her chest, curling tight like a clenched fist. But Valerie was here, holding her as if she was something precious, something worth holding onto. So, despite the uncertainty threatening to choke her, she took a breath and whispered, “There’s something I have to tell you. I think you deserve to know... this part of my life.”

Judy opened her eyes to a sight that made her heart stutter. Valerie was watching her as if she could feel the weight of what Judy was about to say before the words even left her lips. It was a look of quiet patience, of trust, of certainty. Valerie saw her - not the fragments, not the sharp edges, not just the good or the rotten, but all of her. And she looked at Judy as if she needed her to breathe. That look alone made the words pressing against her ribcage burn more intensively, screaming with the need to finally be free.

“Did you ever hear of… Fiona Vargas?” Judy asked at last, her voice wavering. Even saying the name out loud made her feel like the ground beneath her was shifting. It had been years. Years of silence, of trying to forget. And yet, the moment it crossed her lips, she felt herself unraveling, the past clawing its way back to the surface. Judy reminded herself that she was safe. That Fiona couldn’t hurt her anymore. But her body didn’t quite believe it, the old instincts flaring to life, making her chest tighten.

“I don’t think I did.”

Valerie’s voice was gentle, careful, like she knew not to push too hard. She reached out, her fingertips brushing against Judy’s cheek, and Judy let her eyes flutter shut, leaning into the touch. The warmth was pulling her back from the edge of the cliff. Then, a moment later, the blue-haired woman shifted closer, wrapping an arm around her waist, holding her as if she could keep Judy bound just by touch alone.

And maybe she could.

“She was my first agent—as in manager,” Judy swallowed hard, forcing herself to go on. “We… we had a complicated—No, not a relationship. But it was something. She…” she exhaled sharply, shaking her head. “I keep forgetting parts of it, but it’s still there, y’know? Haunting me sometimes.”

“Did she… hurt you?”

Judy’s throat closed up. She wanted to answer, but the words tangled inside her, too big, too messy.

“I… I don’t know where to start.”

“Wherever you want,” Valerie murmured. She didn’t press, didn’t demand. She just waited.

Judy stared at her, studying the soft curve of her lips, the quiet patience in her eyes. “How do I know,” she began, voice barely above a whisper, “that when I finish, you’ll still—It’s a lot, Val. It’s fucked up, it fucked me up. I don’t want you to see me differently. I don’t—what if you—”

Valerie’s expression didn’t waver. If anything, her grip on Judy tightened, just slightly, as if to remind her she wasn’t going anywhere. “Not a fuckin’ chance, Jude.” The words were said with such certainty, as if the thought of leaving had never even occurred to her. Valerie pulled her closer, guiding her head to rest against her chest, and murmured, “Trust me.”

Judy closed her eyes, listening to the steady thrum of Valerie’s heartbeat beneath her ear.

She nodded, and in a voice that trembled, she began.

Chapter Text

Chapter XVI | I Am Not Who I Was
When you see what I've become will you love me for who I am, not who I was?

Judy hunched her shoulders against the evening chill, pulling the collar of her hoodie higher as she stepped off the cracked pavement onto the uneven path leading to her apartment complex. The air was thick with the scent of damp concrete, mildew, and the faint, metallic tang of rust - Salem’s slums clung to her skin, soaked into her clothes, impossible to shake.

Just before she reached the entrance, movement caught her eye. Two teenagers slumped against a graffitied wall, their bodies loose, heads lolling as if held up by invisible strings. Their eyes were vacant, pupils blown wide, lost somewhere far beyond the piss-stained alley they’d collapsed in. A pair of used syringes glinted in the weak glow of the streetlamp beside them.

Judy barely spared them a second glance. This was normal. Or at least, as normal as it got around here. She shook her head, muttered something under her breath, and shoved open the heavy door, stepping into the dim stairwell. Her sneakers squeaked against the warped linoleum as she trudged upstairs, every muscle aching from training. She just wanted a shower, something to eat - whatever scraps her grandmother had left in the fridge - and then to pass out on the couch for a few hours before dragging herself back to the pitch the next morning.

But the second she stepped inside, she knew something was off.

Ainara stood waiting in the cramped hallway, arms crossed over her chest, her expression sharp and expectant. “There you are,” she said, her voice clipped, no patience for Judy’s exhaustion. “Go wash up and come to the living room. There’s a nice lady here, she wants to talk to you about your career.”

Judy blinked, still caught in the fog of fatigue. “My what?”

“Your career,” her grandmother repeated, slow and deliberate, as if Judy was an idiot for even asking. “She came all the way from Night City to meet you.”

Judy groaned, rolling her eyes. “Nana, I just got back from training. It’s almost midnight. I’m dead. You should be sleeping. Can’t it wait?”

Her grandmother’s expression darkened in that way that meant - no, it absolutely could not wait.

“You will sit down and listen to what she has to say.” Her voice left no room for argument. “Hear her out. And do not embarrass me, ranita.”

Judy clenched her jaw, swallowing down the retort bubbling up in her throat. Instead, she exhaled sharply through her nose, tossed her duffel bag onto the kitchen chair, and made her way toward the living room.

The first thing she noticed was the smell. Stale cigarette smoke, thick and acrid, curling in the air like a ghost that didn’t belong. Her grandmother never allowed smoking in the apartment - ever. The fact that this woman was getting away with it meant something.

The stranger stood near the window, idly flicking the ash from her cigarette into an empty glass perched on the sill. Judy leaned against the doorframe, crossing her arms. The woman turned at the sound, exhaling a slow stream of smoke, her gaze sweeping over Judy in a single, assessing pass.

She wasn’t from around here. That much was obvious. Everything about her screamed money - not flashy, but controlled. The kind of wealth that didn’t need to be loud to be noticed. She wore a sleek, form-fitting black dress, elegant but practical, the fabric hugging her frame like it had been tailored specifically for her. A silver bracelet glinted at her wrist, real metal, not the cheap knockoff chrome people around here pawned for chump change.

Her hair was dark, cut short in a precise style that looked effortless but wasn’t. She looked like she had walked straight out of some corpo boardroom. Maybe except for her eyes. They weren’t empty like the rest of them. They were sharp, deliberate, watching Judy with a quiet intensity. Not cruel, not dismissive. Just… calculating. Like she had already made up her mind about her before Judy had even opened her mouth.

The woman smiled - a small, knowing thing, like she was already ahead of the conversation. “You must be Judy.”

Judy didn’t bother returning it. Instead, she flopped onto the worn-out couch, stretching her legs across the faded upholstery. “Depends,” she muttered, drumming her fingers against her knee. “Who’s asking?”

Her grandmother cleared her throat sharply, but the woman only chuckled, taking a slow drag of her cigarette. The ember glowed briefly before she flicked it against the rim of a glass, ash crumbling into the dark liquid inside. “Name’s Fiona Vargas. I’m an agent. And I’ve been watching you play.”

Judy scoffed. “Oh yeah?”

Fiona nodded, unbothered, exhaling a thin stream of smoke toward the ceiling. “You’re good. Real good. You’ve got potential—more than you probably realize.”

Judy glanced at her grandmother, whose expression remained carefully neutral, then back at the stranger. There was something in Fiona’s voice, something smooth and practiced, like she’d said these words a hundred times before.

“So?” Judy asked, arms folding across her chest. “What do you want?”

Fiona smirked, pushing off the windowsill with the easy confidence of someone who always got what they came for. She crossed the room in slow, measured steps, lowering herself into the armchair across from Judy. “I want to represent you.”

Judy let out a short, sharp laugh, shaking her head. “No offense, but I ain’t lookin’ for an agent. I think I’m fine on my own.”

Fiona tilted her head slightly, studying her, the way a cat might watch a bird just out of reach. Planning their next move. “You’re talented, Judy. But talent alone doesn’t get you far. Not in this world. You wanna make it? You need someone who knows the game, someone who can make sure you don’t get chewed up and spit out before you even get started.”

Judy shifted under the weight of her gaze. She wanted to brush her off, to say she had it handled, but her grandmother’s stare burned into the side of her face.

Fiona leaned forward, elbows resting on her knees. Her voice dipped into something lower, coaxing, a spider spinning its web. “I’ve got a vision for you. A real shot at making something of yourself. And believe me, I’ve got connections—connections that could push you out of this small-town rut and into the big leagues. You’re already a star, but I can make you a name.”

Judy’s fingers twitched against her knee. She wasn’t sure what it was - Fiona’s tone, the way she spoke like it was all inevitable, the way her gaze never strayed - but something about it unsettled her.

“Meredith Stout. Dakota Smith. Nika Yankovich. Rhino.” Fiona listed the names like a mantra, rolling them off her tongue with an easy rhythm. “They started just like you—talented, hungry, but not knowing the right people. I helped them. And now they’re stars. Making a fortune. You could be next. You just need the right guidance.”

Judy’s lips pressed together. She watched those players rise from nothing. Dakota was one of her idols. She would love to follow her footsteps. But she also knew people like Fiona didn’t offer help for free. She glanced toward her grandmother, who sat poised at the edge of the couch, hands folded neatly in her lap. She had told Judy to listen, to at least hear the woman out. But Judy had never been one to be easily swayed.

“I don’t need an agent,” she said, quiet but firm. “Reggie said I’ve got a place on the Witches squad. I’ll finish next year in Juniors, and then I’ll be ready to move up. That’s what I’m focusing on.”

Fiona smiled, slow and knowing, like she had been expecting that answer. Like she was already ten steps ahead of Judy. “Regina Jones doesn’t have much say in how that roster shapes up, sweetheart. Don’t be naive. Things change, fast. You don’t want to risk your future waiting on a maybe… on a promise of assistant coach that might not be in Salem next year.”

She reached into her purse and pulled out a thick slip of paper, placing it on the table between them with an almost careless flick of her wrist. Then she slid it toward Judy, slow, deliberate.

“What I’m offering is a guaranteed spot on the Night City Tyger Claws squad next year. The league, not Juniors. Real opportunity.”

Judy’s chest tightened. Tyger Claws. Real soccer. She was eligible to play in the senior league. She had dreamed about it - before she had committed to the Witches, before she had promised herself she would make it the right way.

No. Reggie had always looked out for her. She wouldn’t let her be forgotten. She wouldn’t let her down.

But then Judy’s eyes flicked to the paper in front of her. A number stared back at her. Large, impossible. More money than she had ever imagined. Her stomach clenched.

"That’s the kind of salary you’d be looking at with my help," Fiona said, her fingers brushing over the paper like it was a foregone conclusion. "I can’t promise the world, but I can promise you one hell of a start."

Her grandmother gasped beside her, clasping her hands together. “Oh, Judy,” she breathed, her voice thick with hope. “This is it. This is your big chance. You’ve worked so hard, and now you can have everything you’ve ever wanted.”

Judy’s pulse pounded. The air in the apartment felt heavier somehow, the walls closing in just a little. She looked between her grandmother’s eager face and Fiona’s confident smirk. Something about this felt off. A voice in the back of her head told her to slow down, to wait, to think. She had never been one to trust something that came too easy. But her grandma was right there, eyes shining with hope, and the number on that paper was enough to make anyone second-guess their choices.

Fiona stood, smoothing down the front of her dress with a casual air, as if the deal had already been sealed. She picked up a sleek black business card and placed it on top of the paper.

“You’ve got my number,” she said, flashing another smile. “When you’re ready, give me a call. We’ll make this happen. You’ll see just how much easier life can be.”

And then, just like that, she was gone. The door clicked shut behind her. Judy swallowed hard. She stared at the empty space where Fiona had stood, the air still humming with the weight of her presence. The door had barely finished swinging shut, but the silence left in her wake was deafening.

Her grandmother’s eyes were on her, bright with expectation. “Well? What are you waiting for, Judy? Go after her! This is your moment.”

Judy didn’t move. Her fingers curled tightly around the slip of paper, the number on it burning into her palm like a brand. The edges crinkled beneath her grip, the choice heavy in her hands.

She should have felt excited - wasn’t this what she wanted? A chance to break out, to prove she wasn’t just another kid with a dream too big for her hometown. And yet, hesitation coiled in her gut, tight and unrelenting. Fiona had appeared out of nowhere, promising everything, handing her an opportunity that seemed too good to be real. She didn’t trust her.

Judy swallowed hard. “I… I don’t know, nana.” She hesitated, her voice uncertain, her heart torn between loyalty and the promise of something bigger. “Reggie—”

Her grandmother’s face softened, but there was something else in her expression now, something urgent beneath the warmth. “Judy, honey, I just want you to have the life you deserve. Reggie can’t guarantee you a place on that squad. You heard what she said—this could be it for you.” She reached out, squeezing Judy’s arm gently. “You’ve worked too damn hard to let this slip through your fingers.”

Judy’s pulse pounded in her ears. Red flags waved in the back of her mind, each one flashing a warning she wasn’t sure she could afford to listen to. Loyalty told her to stay. Logic told her to stay. But her heart told her to run. And ambition? Ambition screamed that she had to take this chance before it was gone.

She wanted to believe Regina. Wanted to trust that all the hours she’d put in, all the bruises, all the late nights on the pitch - none of it would go to waste. That she didn’t need some fast-talking stranger to make it.

But then there was the money. The contract. The promise of something more.

She exhaled sharply, forcing herself to push past the gnawing uncertainty. With one last glance at her grandmother, whose pleading eyes held years of hope, Judy rose to her feet. "Fine," she murmured, barely above a whisper. "I’ll go after her."

Ainara’s face lit up with relief, but Judy barely saw it. She was already moving, her legs carrying her to the door, her heart hammering with each step. As soon as she stepped into the dimly lit hallway, the cold air hit her, sharp and bracing. The stairwell loomed ahead, every creaky step she took a reminder that there was still time to turn back. But she didn’t. She kept going, letting the weight of her decision settle into her bones.

She reached the entrance and Fiona was there, leaning against the doorway, another cigarette dangling from her fingers. She exhaled a slow stream of smoke, then tilted her head with that same smirk - cool, knowing, dangerous.

"Took you long enough, kid."

***

The locker room reeked of sweat and disinfectant, the acrid scent settling into every crevice of the space. The air was thick with the sound of sneakers scuffing against the tiles, the distant echo of laughter bouncing off the walls. But beneath it all, something else simmered - a quiet, unspoken tension that clung to every rookie in the room.

A pressure. A need to prove they belonged. Judy wasn’t immune to it.

She sat on one of the benches, rolling her shoulders, feeling the deep, lingering ache that had settled into her muscles after another brutal training session. The weight of the upcoming season pressed against her ribs, tight and insistent, refusing to let her breathe easy. Adjusting had been harder than she’d expected - not just to the physical toll but to the unspoken rules of the locker room, the silent hierarchy built from sweat, bruises, and the kind of respect that had to be earned the hard way.

Back in Salem, she had been untouchable. The name on everyone’s lips. The kid who led her team to a championship, who had a gold medal from the Juniors World Tournament hanging in her grandparents’ house like a goddamn trophy of war. She had walked onto the field knowing she was the best, and everyone else had known it too. But here? Here, she was just another name on a roster. A rookie clawing for a spot.

She was the most talented out of them - of that, she had no doubt - but talent alone wasn’t enough. Not when the competition was ruthless, when every drill, every scrimmage, every goddamn touch of the ball could tip the scales in her favor or send her packing. Pre-season camp was her chance to prove it. To show them all that the spot in the first squad wasn’t just a possibility. It was hers.

Fiona had made it sound easier than this.

Judy remembered that first meeting, sitting across from her agent nearly six months ago, staring at the number Fiona had scribbled onto a piece of paper. It had looked good on blank page. But then came the fine print - the missing taxes, the contingency clauses, the real payout would only hit her account if she scored enough goals, played enough minutes.

She hadn’t complained. She had enough from the signing bonus to rent a two-room apartment on Charter Hill, enough to wire some money back to her grandparents. And if she made the first squad, Fiona promised to land her some sponsorship deals, real money.

But she wasn’t here for that. Judy had never chased a paycheck. She had chased the game. The thrill of it. The battle. She had clawed her way out of Salem with one dream - to play against the best, to stand among them and not just belong, but dominate. And now, she was one step away from making her dreams come true.

Across from her, Roxanne crouched down, peeling off her cleats with sharp, irritated tugs. A streak of white foam clung to her fingers.

“Fucking hell,” she muttered, wiping at the shaving cream someone had stuffed inside. The prank was an old one, a rite of passage for rookies, and yet Roxanne’s scowl suggested the tradition had long lost its humor. “These assholes need new material.”

Sandra, sitting beside her, chuckled as she tugged off her socks, rolling them into a ball before tossing them into her duffel. “That’s nothing,” she said, smirking. “Last week, I come outta the showers, and guess what? No clothes. Had to walk back in a towel, praying NCPD wasn’t feeling trigger-happy enough to book me for public indecency.”

Judy leaned back against the bench, stretching her arms above her head. “That sounds dangerous. We’re in Night City for fuck’s sake.”

Sandra cocked an eyebrow. “What about you? They get you yet?”

Judy shrugged. “Haven’t touched me.”

That made both of them pause. Roxanne shot her a look, equal parts suspicion and disbelief.

“No way,” she scoffed. “Not a single prank? Not even something small?”

Before Judy could answer, the locker room door swung open, and a wave of heat and steam rolled in from the showers. A group of veterans strode inside, towels slung lazily around their necks, still damp but unbothered by modesty. They moved with the confidence of players who had already paid their dues, their laughter sharper, louder - full of the easy arrogance that came with knowing they ran the place.

At the head of them was Rhino, Claws’ captain. She walked like she owned the damn room, broad shoulders loose, her presence filling the space without effort. Her gaze flicked toward Judy, lingering just a second too long before she shot her a wink.

Roxanne let out an exaggerated breath, shaking her head as if she’d finally cracked the code. “Ah. Now I get it.”

Judy raised an eyebrow. “Get what?”

“You’ve got protection,” she said, her lips curled into a knowing smirk. “Rhino’s your output, huh?”

Judy barked out a laugh, shaking her head. “That’s what you think?”

Sandra nudged Roxanne with her elbow, grinning. “Would explain why no one’s fucked with you yet.”

Judy just rolled her eyes. “It’s not like that. We’re just friends. Fiona asked her to help me with my shots, give me some advice.”

Roxanne wasn’t buying it. “Uh-huh. And I’m just here ‘cause they liked my sparkling personality.”

Judy didn’t bite. She was used to people making assumptions, thinking there was always some angle, some backroom deal. Roxanne and Sandra didn’t get it. Fiona wasn’t pulling strings out of sentimentality - she was playing the game like everybody else. Judy’s success was good for business. The better she performed, the more sponsors would want a piece of her. It wasn’t personal. It was business strategy.

“No agenda,” she said, voice steady. “Rhino’s helping because Fiona asked her to. That’s it.”

Roxanne snorted, unconvinced. “Alvy, darling, there’s no such thing as ‘no agenda.’ Not in this city. Someone’s always gonna want something from you.”

Maybe.

Judy wasn’t naïve enough to think she was special. Everybody in this locker room was here because someone had bet on them. Because someone saw potential worth investing in. If Rhino’s help gave her an edge, she wasn’t about to apologize for taking it. The fact that Fiona had pulled some strings to get Rhino’s guidance didn’t make her weak. It made her smarter. And as much as the other players liked to tease, Judy knew the reality - she needed to get better if she was going to survive the grind of this season.

The veterans broke into conversation, laughing about the upcoming games, about rivalries and grudge matches, about who was gonna get their shit rocked first. Judy let the noise fade into the background, her mind elsewhere. She had no interest in locker room politics or who thought she had it easier.

She didn’t care what the others thought. She wasn’t here to play their games. She was here to prove herself.

She was here to win.

***

Judy still felt the weight of the match in her legs, the familiar post-game ache settling deep into her muscles, but even exhaustion couldn’t dull the warmth in her chest. Across the table, her grandparents spoke in hushed, reverent tones, still marveling at the view, the game they attended and the sheer spectacle of it all. She had seen that wide-eyed wonder before, back when she was a kid and they had taken her to her first professional match, Felipe pointing out players he had once idolized.

Now, it was her name being spoken in the stands, her face appearing on massive screens. And yet, sitting here with them, she felt like a kid again - small, eager to make them proud.

The restaurant was the kind of place her grandparents had only seen in movies. Tucked into a secluded corner, a lacquered wooden partition shielding them from the rest of the patrons, they sat in the soft glow of warm, flickering light. Every dish arrived like a work of art, a stark contrast to the simple home-cooked meals she had grown up with. And yet, despite the unfamiliar luxury, they were happy - truly happy in a way she hadn’t seen in a long time. And Judy knew exactly who was responsible for that.

Fiona sat beside her, effortlessly poised, sipping from a glass of sake like she owned the place. Judy had always known her agent could pull strings, make things happen, but this? Flying her grandparents out from Salem, setting them up in a penthouse, treating them to a night like this? That wasn’t standard.

She had brushed off every attempt at gratitude with a smirk and some half-assed excuse about team morale or player satisfaction. But Judy wasn’t stupid. She remembered Roxanne’s warning from pre-season. No one does shit for free in this city.

At first, she hadn’t believed it. But then she started noticing things. The way Rhino would demand the ball from her more insistently. The way Fiona would nudge her into things outside of the pitch - parties with celebrities she had no interest in, opening night for her friend’s club, interviews that probed too deeply into her personal life. She hadn’t come to Night City for any of that. All she had ever wanted was to play soccer. But how could she say no? She owed Fiona everything. Without her, she’d still be grinding it out in Juniors, still sleeping on her grandparents’ couch in the slums.

Judy had let it slip once - offhand, a little homesick - how much she missed her grandparents. She hadn’t expected anything to come of it. Fiona had just smirked at the time, said nothing. But not even two weeks later, Judy had gotten the call - her grandparents were already on their way to the airport, their entire trip arranged down to the last detail. No expense spared.

And now, here they were. Earlier today, Fiona had taken them to Judy’s match, seating them in the VIP section where they had waved excitedly at her, oblivious to the sting of the team’s loss. Judy had still managed to score a goal, add an assist. It hadn’t been enough to win, but at least it had been enough to make them proud.

She should’ve been enjoying this. Should’ve been soaking in the rare moment of peace. But she couldn’t take her eyes off Fiona tonight - grateful, yes, but wary. Waiting for the other shoe to drop. Because nothing in Night City ever came without a price. And yet, watching Fiona now, effortlessly charming her grandparents with that honey-laced voice… something about it felt off. Was it all just a performance?

Judy shifted, spearing a piece of sashimi with her chopsticks, trying to shake the unease creeping up her spine. She should just be grateful. Should just enjoy the moment.

During the next few minutes, she almost convinced herself that Fiona didn’t have a secret agenda. Almost. But then she felt it - light but firm, a hand settling at the base of her spine. Not just resting there, but pressing. Possessive. Intimate.

Judy sucked in a breath, nearly choking on a mouthful of rice. She forced herself to swallow, her fingers tightening around the chopsticks. She didn’t move, didn’t turn her head, but she could feel Fiona beside her, could hear the quiet way she exhaled, the slight shift of her body as she leaned in just a little closer.

What the fuck was this?

Her grandparents kept talking, oblivious. Across the table, her grandfather laughed at something Fiona said, his deep voice rumbling, warm and familiar. It should’ve grounded her. Instead, she felt unmoored, her pulse hammering in her throat.

Fiona’s hand didn’t move. Didn’t slide lower, didn’t slip away. It just stayed there, a silent claim, an unspoken deal being sealed in the space between them. And just like that, Judy finally understood. This was the contingency. This was the price.

Judy didn’t pull away. Didn’t make a scene. Her grandparents were happy, and she wouldn’t ruin this moment for them. But the weight of that hand lingered even after it was gone, seeping into her skin, into her bones. She hadn’t expected this. Hadn’t thought she was playing into something of that sort. She had been naive. Stupid, even.

Not that she didn’t find Fiona attractive - who wouldn’t? She was striking, intelligent, ambitious in a way that made people either admire or fear her. But she was also over ten years older, and more importantly, she was her agent. Their relation was strictly business. Nothing more. Judy knew better than to mix career with… whatever this was.

***

The night air was thick with pulse of neon and the low hum of distant traffic, the streets alive with the usual beat of the city. Her grandparents packed their bags into the waiting cab, their hushed Spanish still carrying traces of laughter from dinner. She held onto them a moment longer than necessary, inhaling the faint scent of her abuela’s perfume, willing the comfort to last.

Fiona stood a few steps away, smoke curling lazily from the cigarette between her fingers, her lips curved in that infuriating, knowing smile. A slow shiver crept down Judy’s spine. She forced herself to breathe, forced her jaw to unclench. She should say something, call her out, shrug her off. Move. But she didn’t. Because fear - real, sharp, and coiled tight in her chest - kept her rooted to the pavement.

She owed Fiona her career. Worse, she wasn’t sure what the cost would be if she refused to pay.

The taxi carrying her grandparents vanished into the glowing arteries of the city, and with it, the last lingering warmth of the evening. Silence stretched between them, the night alive with the distant thrum of engines and flickering billboards. And then - there it was again. A touch, barely there, a whisper of fingertips against her forearm. It burned through the thin fabric of her shirt like a brand.

Judy stiffened, stepped aside, just enough to break the contact. Fiona let her go without resistance - too easily. And yet, the smirk never faltered. If anything, it deepened, amusement flickering in her sharp eyes.

“So,” Fiona drawled, tucking her free hand into the pocket of her tailored coat. “What do you say we continue the night?”

Judy exhaled through her nose, keeping her expression neutral. “Can’t. I’ve got training tomorrow. Wanted to go for a jog in the morning before we start.”

Fiona clicked her tongue, shaking her head with feigned disappointment. “Dedicated. That’s my girl.”

Judy ignored the words, already pulling out her phone, her fingers swift as they opened a ride app. She wanted distance, space, something to cut through the suffocating tension settling between them. But before she could even confirm the order, Fiona’s fingers curled around her wrist - not tight, not forceful, but just enough pressure to still her hand. Then, with practiced ease, she plucked the phone from Judy’s grasp.

“I’ll take you home.”

Judy’s stomach twisted. She reached for her phone, but Fiona only arched an eyebrow, holding it just out of reach.

“C’mon,” she continued, voice light, teasing, as if none of this meant anything. “No need for a taxi when you’ve got me.”

Judy clenched her jaw. She could make a scene, demand her phone back, turn this into a fight right here on the curb. But her body was sore from the match, her mind sluggish with exhaustion. The night already felt too long. She just wanted to be home.

So, she inhaled sharply and nodded once. “Fine.”

Fiona’s smirk widened. She gestured toward the street, where a sleek, black Rayfield Aerondight waited, its engine purring softly. Judy slid into the passenger seat, back straight, arms crossed, watching the neon-streaked city blur past the window. Fiona was talking - something about sponsorship deals, upcoming endorsements - but Judy only half-listened. Her thoughts were tangled, circling the unspoken things between them.

She wasn’t naïve. She knew what her agent wanted from her. The only question was - how far was Fiona willing to go to get it?

The car rolled to a stop outside her apartment complex, and Judy reached for the door handle, eager to escape the weight pressing against her chest. Hoping she could dodge the bullet. But before she could get out, she heard the soft click of the locks engaging. There was her answer.

Her heart stuttered. Slowly, she turned her head. Fiona was watching her, city lights glinting in her dark eyes. And then, just as smooth, just as deliberate, she reached out, taking Judy’s hand in her own. “Something wrong?” she asked, her voice silk-soft, concern painted over something more unreadable. “You’ve been… a bit distant tonight.”

Judy swallowed hard, resisting the urge to pull away too quickly. The warmth of Fiona’s palm was steady. She forced herself to stay still, to speak evenly, to choose her words carefully. “I just… It feels like somethin’ shifted tonight. Between us. And I’m not sure I’m fully comfortable with it.”

A beat of silence. Then, Fiona smiled. That same effortless, practiced curve of her lips. “Nothing has to change… unless you want it to.”

“I don’t,” Judy said quickly, the sharpness of her own voice surprising her. She softened it, forced her tone into something calmer. “Our relationship is business. And I want it to stay that way.”

Fiona tilted her head, studying her like a puzzle with missing pieces. Then, with a quiet chuckle, she leaned back and reached over to unlock the doors. “Breaking my heart, Judes.”

Judy’s pulse kicked up, but she didn’t take the bait. She felt backed into a corner, and that was the last thing she wanted - to be playing defense in her own damn life. She needed a way out.

She hesitated, then forced a small, uneasy smile. “It’s just… I don’t want to mess anything up between us. If we took it to another level and it didn’t work out… I’d still want you as my agent.” She let out a breath, hoping the half-truth was enough. “You take great care of me, Fiona. I don’t want anything to come between us.”

Something flickered in Fiona’s gaze. A predator observing its prey. The way she studied Judy was almost clinical, as if she was weighing whether or not to believe her. Then, with a slow nod, she pulled back, retreating just enough to make it feel like a choice.

“It’s all good,” Fiona murmured, her voice as smooth as ever, like they’d just wrapped up a routine conversation. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Judy didn’t wait. She pushed the door open and stepped out, the cool night air washing over her skin like a reset button. She didn’t run - but she walked fast, her heartbeat an unsteady drum against her ribs. With every step toward her building, the tension unspooled, little by little. By the time she reached the entrance, she exhaled fully, a quiet breath of relief, and slipped inside without looking back.

***

The night was still young when the Tyger Claws wrapped up another thrilling victory. Their fourth win in a row - a streak that had revived the team’s spirit. Judy, with her three goals, had earned the pride and awe of her teammates. It was her first career hat-trick, and the weight of the accomplishment settled over her like a thick, intoxicating haze. She could still hear the echoes of the stadium, the deafening roars of the crowd each time she found the back of the net, the way her name had been chanted like a promise of something greater. It felt unreal.

The team hit a club to celebrate, their laughter and energy spilling out into the dirty streets of Night City. The drinks flowed freely, a steady current of tequila, whiskey, and champagne. Judy had never been a heavy drinker - not with her grandmother’s sharp nose always sniffing out even a single sip of beer when she’d come home from parties as a teenager.

But her grandmother wasn’t here. And tonight, the city was theirs. Four straight wins. The longest streak in the short history of this team. The Tyger Claws were on fire, and Judy wanted to let loose, just this once.

She hadn’t noticed the way the night blurred at the edges, how the lounge had emptied little by little, leaving only ghosts of laughter and the faint clink of glasses behind. Rhino had vanished with some groupie, Yoko had mumbled about an early morning before slipping out an hour ago. Roxanne and Nele still lingered by the bar, their conversation a low murmur as they flirted lazily with the bartenders, but the crackling energy of the night had long since burned down to embers.

Now, it was just her and Fiona.

She didn’t realize how close the dark-haired woman had gotten until she felt the whisper of breath against her ear.

“You wanna try something stronger?” Fiona’s voice was smooth, liquid silk, wrapping around her. “I got something that’ll make you feel like you’re floating. No worries, no stress—just you and the music. Nothing else will matter, not for a while.”

Judy blinked sluggishly, the words slow to register. A warning bell chimed somewhere in the back of her mind, faint beneath the dull haze of alcohol, but enough to shook her head. “Nah, Fiona. Think I’ve had enough.”

Fiona’s lips curved, her smile lazy, predatory. “Come on. Everyone does it. All our fancy celeb friends? They’re on it all the fucking time.”

Judy frowned. Something about the way she said it - like a secret she was supposed to be in on - didn’t sit right. Maybe she should leave. It was late, and she was already drunker than she’d planned. She moved to stand, to grab her jacket and make for the exit, but before she could push herself upright, Fiona’s hand closed around her forearm. The grip was gentle, but insistent, pulling her back down onto the plush leather couch.

“Just one last drink,” Fiona coaxed, voice dripping with persuasion. “For the win. For you. For us.”

Judy hesitated. Fiona was her agent - had been from the start, back when no one else believed in her. Even if things had taken a weird turn lately, after that talk in the car Fiona had backed off. She hadn’t suggested anything, hadn’t crossed any lines.

Judy was safe. And it was just one drink.

“…Alright,” she muttered finally.

Fiona’s smile widened, satisfaction gleaming in her dark eyes. She slid from the couch, sauntering toward the bar. When she returned a few minutes later, she carried two glasses of neat tequila, golden liquid catching in the neon glow.

“We down it together,” she said, lifting her glass in a silent toast.

Judy mirrored the motion, bringing the rim to her lips. The first sip was sharp, burning down her throat, settling like a fire in her stomach. But by the fifth, as she was finishing the glass, something shifted. The room tilted. It was subtle at first, the kind of dizziness that came with too many drinks, but then - then the edges of her vision smudged, colors bleeding into one another like wet paint. The music, once pulsing and alive, dulled into a distant hum.

Her limbs felt… heavy. Too heavy. Her body was sinking deeper into the couch.

Fiona’s voice was there again, this time right by her ear, softer now, more intimate. “You deserve a break after that performance, don’t you think? I just want to make you feel good, baby. You’ve earned this. You work so hard. Let’s celebrate.”

Judy barely registered the brush of lips against her neck - a slow, deliberate press that sent a muted, confusing pulse through her body. Somewhere, beneath the thickening fog in her head, something inside her tensed.

“I don’t know…” Her voice came out weak, uncertain, slipping from her lips like water through fingers. She didn’t want this. Or did she? The tequila, the exhaustion, the haze clouding her mind made it hard to tell. She didn’t want to give in, didn’t want to make a mistake she’d regret - but the thought of resisting felt just as distant, as if she was watching herself from outside her own body. An observer rather than a participant.

Fiona’s fingers trailed down her arm, featherlight. “All that pressure you put on yourself, Judy… You gotta let go sometimes.”

Her eyelids drooped. It was getting harder to think, harder to push through the weighted fog wrapping around her like a net. Fiona’s hand was on her thigh now, her touch warm, coaxing, insistent.

Judy tried to sit up, to push away the disorientation, but the effort only made the world spin faster. She lifted a hand to her face, but even that movement felt sluggish, like her limbs no longer belonged to her.

Fiona murmured something else - something velvety smooth, low and luring - but it was distant now, muffled like it was coming from underwater, lost beneath the tide of exhaustion pulling her under.

She was sinking. Deeper. Deep. Deeper. The music faded, the lounge dissolved, and then—

Then, everything went dark.

Judy hesitated, the words thick in her throat, weighted by something she wasn’t sure she was ready to name. But she had to say it - had to push it out before she lost the nerve.

“I don’t… I don’t remember much from that night,” she murmured, her voice barely more than breath. “When I came to, I was naked. Sprawled on her couch, in her mansion, her head between my thighs. There were marks on me—her lipstick smudged across my skin, bruises in places I didn’t remember being touched. And I—I figured it was from a good time. I felt… aroused. Already close when I snapped back into myself. So, I thought… I must’ve wanted it. That at some point, I said yes. That I gave my consent.”

Judy lay curled against Valerie’s chest, folding into herself like she could make her body smaller, as if she could vanish into the steady warmth of the woman holding her. Her fingers curled into Valerie’s shirt, gripping the fabric tight, an anchor against the tide of memories threatening to pull her under.

She felt it immediately - Valerie’s whole body stiffening beneath her, muscles coiling taut like a wire ready to snap. The soothing strokes along her back halted, fingertips frozen mid-motion.

“Jude—”

But if she stopped now, she’d never say it out loud.

“I was a lightweight back then,” she forced herself to continue, the words spilling out like they’d been trapped inside her for too long. “So, I chalked it up to that. That I drank too much, blacked out, lost pieces of the night. It didn’t make sense, but I didn’t let myself linger on it. Maybe I was too naïve to see it. Or maybe… I was too scared to admit it.”

Valerie’s voice was low, barely restrained. “She drugged you. And she—”

“Yes, Val, that’s exactly what she did,” Judy cut in, and her voice cracked on the last word. A sob slipped free before she could swallow it down, raw and aching. “I know that now. Because I saw her do it to someone else. Some other girl, at one of her parties.” The memory seared through her, sharp and unforgiving, a replay of a scene she wished she’d never witnessed. “But back then… I didn’t know. She made it sound like it was my idea to go home with her. And I didn’t remember—and it felt good to be wanted. So, I just—I didn’t know.”

The second sob tore through her before she could catch it, her body trembling from the force of it. Valerie pressed a kiss to the top of her head, her hold impossibly tight, like she could shield her from something that had already happened. Like she could change the past just by holding her close enough.

Judy curled in deeper, burying herself in the solidness of Valerie, letting the quiet thrum of her heartbeat beneath her ear steady her. But then - she noticed it. Valerie was shaking. Not much, but enough. And it wasn’t fear. It was rage. White-hot and simmering, barely leashed.

She sucked in a trembling breath, gathering what little strength she had left. “And that was the start of it,” she whispered. “That… relationship.”

Valerie didn’t speak, just tightened her arms around her, silent and listening.

“She was sweet at first. The wine-and-dine kind of sweet. Bought me things, took me out, made me feel like I was the center of her world. And then, somehow, within a month, I was living with her. We never even talked about it—it just happened. One day I was staying over more often than not, the next, all my shit was there. And suddenly, we were together, even though we never said it out loud.”

Valerie pressed another kiss to her hair, gentle this time, brushing away the silent tears as they slipped down Judy’s cheeks.

“She was possessive. Clung to me like I was hers and hers alone—which is kinda ironic, ‘cause I knew she was cheating on me.” A bitter laugh bubbled up in her throat but died just as fast. “She called me paranoid. Loved that word. Every time I asked why she reeked of some other woman’s perfume, why she came home late, where the hell she disappeared to in the middle of the night… paranoid.”

Judy swallowed hard, but it didn’t stop the burn creeping up her throat.

“And then… then she got mean. Aggressive. Abusive.”

She shut her eyes against the weight of the memories pressing down on her, suffocating her. The fights. The yelling. The way her voice had stopped mattering, how every protest had been dismissed with a laugh, a sneer, or a sharp twist of wrist until she stopped fighting back. How she didn’t matter.

But Valerie was here. Solid beneath her, steady as a wall. Her warmth seeped into her, grounding her, reminding her of the present. She wasn’t there anymore. She wasn’t that girl anymore. This was just a story. A past that no longer had a hold on her.

She was safe. Here. With Val.

And for the first time in a long, long while, she let herself believe it.

Judy stumbled into the apartment, the heavy door slamming shut behind her with a dull thud. The scent of sweat, alcohol, and cheap perfume clung to her skin, a lingering reminder of the bar, of Evelyn’s laughter over rim-tinted glasses, of music that pulsed too loud in her ears. But none of it had really touched her. Not the drinks, not the distractions, not the momentary escape.

Her mind had been elsewhere all night, orbiting the inevitable, the storm she knew was waiting for her at home.

Fiona had been relentless. Text after text, filling up her phone’s cracked screen, each one pressing against her ribs like a growing weight.

Come home. Where the fuck are you? Are you fucking her? Please, baby, I need you. Don’t you dare spending the night with her.

The words had burned through her night, had curled around the edges of her conversations, turning everything to static.

And now, stepping into the living room, she saw her waiting. Fiona was slouched on the couch, one leg bent over the other, fingers curled around a half-empty glass. Her dark hair spilled over her shoulders in waves, but her eyes - glazed and unfocused - betrayed her. She wasn’t tired. She was waiting. Drunk, stuck in her head and demanding - that dangerous cocktail Judy knew so well. She could feel the storm brewing already.

“I told you,” Judy muttered, her voice hoarse from the night. “I told you I’d be late. We had drinks, Fiona. Evelyn wanted to catch up. It’s not like—”

“Are you fucking her, Judy?”

The words cut through the air like a blade, sharp, slurred, laced with something bitter. Fiona slapped the armrest with the flat of her palm, the sound snapping through the tension. Her eyes, dulled by whatever she’d been drinking - or taking - flashed with something intense, something dangerous.

“She’s a whore,” she spat. “A fuckin’ joytoy. For everyone to use. What, she asking you to pay her after you’re done? And don’t fucking lie to me, I’m the one controlling your finances. I’d know.”

Judy’s breath caught. It wasn’t the first time Fiona’s words had turned cruel, had twisted around her in ways that made her feel small, boxed in, trapped. But this time, it was different. She didn’t want to fight, not now, not when everything felt like it was slipping away. But Fiona’s voice was growing sharper with every word, and Judy could feel the familiar, ugly tension in the air. She felt the anger rise before she could swallow it down.

“You don’t own me,” Judy shot back, her voice steady, even as her hands curled into fists. “You don’t get to control every fuckin’ part of my life. I’m not your puppet.”

The words landed between them, heavy, final. Fiona’s expression shifted - something dark flashing behind her eyes, something that might have been fear, or fury, or both.

"But I do own you. You're mine."

She rose unsteadily from the couch, her body swaying slightly, but Judy didn’t move. Didn’t flinch.

“You think you can just walk away from me?” Fiona’s voice was low now, quiet and menacing. “Swap me? Choose her?”

She took a slow step forward. 

“You think I’d let you?”

Another step closer.

“You think I wouldn’t break you if you left me?”

Judy felt the tremor in her own hands, but she didn’t back away. She wasn’t a kid anymore, she lost her innocence, wasn’t the same girl who had let Fiona mold her into something dependent, something that couldn’t breathe without her.

“This is it, Fiona,” she said, voice steel-edged. “I can’t do this anymore.”

She turned, moving toward the bedroom, her mind already working through it - get the duffel, pack the essentials, get the fuck out. But before she made it two steps, a sharp crack split the air.

The sting registered a second later, white-hot against her cheek.

Judy stopped. The world narrowed to the slow throb of pain, the way her skin burned beneath Fiona’s handprint. For a moment, she didn’t move, didn’t breathe.

Fiona swayed slightly, the anger on her face shifting, something raw slipping through the cracks. Her hands trembled as she took another step forward, her voice breaking. “I…” she murmured, eyes glassy. “I’m sorry.”

Judy didn’t move. Fiona reached for her wrist, fingers curling around it - not tight, not demanding. Pleading. Looking for forgiveness.

“I can’t, Judy. I can’t—please. Don’t leave me.” Her voice wavered, the sharp edges sanded down by desperation. “Stay, please. I can’t live without you. I will kill myself if you leave me. Please, baby. I won’t be able to do it without you.”

Judy’s chest tightened. She had heard every lie, every manipulation, had seen every excuse laid out in ways that made her question herself, her own reality. But this - this was new. The bare, broken admission, the words she had never heard before.

Fiona’s grip on her wrist tightened. “You know I love you, right? You know I can’t breathe without you.”

Judy exhaled sharply, something twisting inside her. She should leave. Should pull away, walk out, not look back. Should remember the sting on her cheek, the poison in Fiona’s words, the way her love always came with strings. Instead, she lifted a hand to her face, fingertips brushing over the burning skin, and met Fiona’s eyes. Something deep inside her softened, the wall she had built around her heart cracking just enough to let Fiona’s words in.

“I love you so much,” the agent continued, her voice almost pleading now, tears glistening in her eyes. “I can’t lose you. I won’t. I’ll change. Just... don’t go.”

“Don’t ever hit me again,” Judy murmured after a moment, voice steady, quiet. “I mean it, Fiona.”

Fiona nodded too quickly, her hands shaking as she wrapped them around Judy, holding her like she was afraid she’d disappear. And Judy - Judy let her. She stayed. Because in that fragile, fleeting moment, Fiona’s words - and the love behind them - felt like the only thing that mattered.

***

The night was thick with the kind of electric tension that only a party in the heart of Las Vegas could create. The penthouse was opulent, a glass fortress perched high above the city, its walls reflecting the endless sprawl of artificial light below. Inside, the air pulsed with bass-heavy music, each beat sinking into skin, vibrating in bones, blurring the line between pleasure and indulgence. Perfume clung to the air, mixing with sweat, smoke, and something decadent.

Judy didn’t belong here. She felt it in the way her fingers trembled slightly around the stem of the glass of her untouched drink, in the way her presence barely registered among the models, athletes, actors, and joytoys draped over expensive furniture like careless afterthoughts. The party was a living thing, shifting and writhing around her, bodies moving in tangled masses - dancing, drinking, fucking with the casual recklessness that came easy in places like this. She wasn’t sure whether the unease rolling in her stomach was from the spectacle or the drugs being passed so freely that even the air felt laced with something.

Supposedly, this was where the real game started. And just couple hours earlier Judy thought she could make it in this world. But as the night bled into itself and the music pulsed harder, Judy didn’t feel like she could survive it. She felt like a fish out of water, surrounded by a species that was foreign to her.

She should leave. Every instinct told her to walk out, find something real, something that didn’t taste like artificial euphoria. But Fiona had made sure she was here, alone, far from Night City, and Judy wasn’t naïve enough to think she could just walk away from that.

Fiona - always in control, always two steps ahead. This was her world, and she sat at its center like a queen on her throne, sprawled on the sleek leather couch, a joint dangling between her fingers, watching the room with a predator’s ease. Two women clung to her, one nipping at the curve of her neck, the other already unbuttoning her shirt with urgency. Fiona didn’t stop them. She barely acknowledged them, her attention seemingly elsewhere.

Or maybe this was the kind of attention she craved - the kind that meant nothing.

Judy stopped mid-step, her breath catching, unsure whether to look away or confront what was unraveling before her. But she couldn't ignore it, not when it sent something sharp twisting deep in her chest. They never really put a name to what they were, but watching Fiona like this - on display, letting hands that weren’t hers roam freely - it did something to her, something that burned beneath her ribs.

She moved before she could think better of it, stepping in front of the couch, the air between them thick and charged. “What the fuck are you doing?”

Her voice cut through the noise, sharp and demanding, and for a moment, the world seemed to pause around them. Fiona didn’t look up right away. She let the moment stretch, let the girl at her throat continue her work, before finally lifting her gaze, slow and deliberate. A smirk tugged at her lips, the kind that always meant trouble.

“Chill out, Judes,” she murmured, exhaling smoke, her tone amused, dismissive. “Join in. Have some fun. Just don’t stand there judging me, we both know you want the same.”

Judy’s stomach twisted at the ease of the response, at the way Fiona acted like none of it mattered. Like she didn’t matter. Her eyes flickered to the girls still draped over her, their hands restless, their presence like ghosts between them. Her fingers curled into fists at her sides.

“I’m not into this,” she said, shaking her head. “Can you tell them to stop groping you? I’m not into sharing you.”

Fiona’s expression suddenly shifted. She studied Judy for a beat too long before letting out an exaggerated sigh, rolling her eyes as if this was all an inconvenience. With a fluid grace, she disentangled herself from the girls, leaving them discarded and confused, before stepping toward Judy with the slow, deliberate confidence of someone who never lost a fight.

Judy braced herself, expecting words, another smirk, another sharp retort. Instead, Fiona pressed an inhalator into her hand.

Judy stared at it, the small device deceptively light in her palm, the weight of the moment heavier than she wanted to admit. She could feel Fiona’s gaze on her, waiting, challenging. This was the choice laid out for her - not in words, but in action.

“You’re a fucking party killer, you know that?” Fiona muttered, exasperation lacing her tone. She leaned in, her breath warm against Judy’s skin. “Listen, babe. If you want to stay with me, if you want to be a real player, a real star—you gotta learn to loosen up. This is the world you’re in now. The league isn’t just about the game. It’s about the game outside of it. You want sponsors? You want to make it big?” She gestured around them, at the chaos, the excess, the unspoken deals happening in the shadows. “This is how it works. You gotta play the part. Just as Meredith and Dakota did.”

Judy’s throat was dry, her pulse too loud in her ears. She wanted to argue, to tell Fiona that she didn’t need any of this, that she just wanted to play soccer, that the game on the field was the only one that mattered. But Fiona was right. Everyone important was here. Everyone who could shape her future, who could open doors she didn’t even know existed.

Fiona smirked, tilting her head. “I threw this whole thing for you, y’know. Maybe it’s time you stop pretending you don’t belong.”

Judy exhaled slowly, her fingers tightening around the inhalator. The air around her felt too thick, too heavy with expectation. She glanced down at the device, her stomach twisting with something between doubt and inevitability.

Fiona had a point. There was a path ahead of her, and it wasn’t one that could be walked without sacrifices. She had promised her everything. Maybe this was the price.

Judy hesitated only a moment longer before lifting the inhalator to her lips, pressing down, and inhaling deep. The chemicals hit fast, a rush that burned its way into her bloodstream, turning the edges of the world soft, hazy. For the first time that night, the weight in her chest lightened.

Fiona’s approval was immediate - a low, satisfied hum as she leaned in, lips grazing the sensitive skin of Judy’s neck. “Good girl,” she murmured, her voice like silk, like a snare. “Now, welcome to the real game.”

Judy didn’t answer, didn’t move, as the night swallowed her whole. There was no turning back now.

***

Judy swore under her breath, flipping over the couch cushions with quick, jerky movements. A half-empty pack of cigarettes tumbled onto the floor, followed by a crumpled jacket that still reeked of some other girl’s perfume. No phone. She moved to the kitchen, sweeping her gaze over the cluttered counter, the sticky table, even the inside of the fridge - nothing.

Then, a slow, mocking clap echoed from the doorway.

"Lookin’ for somethin’, baby?"

Judy froze. She turned, already bracing herself. Fiona leaned lazily against the frame, spinning the missing phone between her fingers, her grin sharp enough to draw blood.

"Give it back," Judy snapped.

Fiona tsked, tapping the screen, her eyes flicking over the call log before locking onto Judy with something cruel behind them. "You were gonna call her back, weren’t you?" Her voice was all honeyed venom, thick with contempt. "Go fuck your little whore?"

Judy’s stomach twisted, a sick heat rising in her chest. "It’s none of your fucking business."

Fiona smirked and pushed off the doorway, taking slow, deliberate steps forward. "Oh, but it is," she murmured. "You’re mine, remember? And I don’t share my toys."

Judy lunged for the phone, but Fiona was faster. She caught Judy’s wrist mid-motion, twisting it back with effortless strength before slamming her against the wall. The impact sent a shockwave through her bones, knocking the breath from her lungs.

"You forgettin’ something?" Fiona whispered against her ear, pressing in close, her body a solid, immovable weight. "Who’s the one keeping you afloat, huh? Who’s making sure you don’t crawl back to that sad little life you ran from? Who’s giving you all the Candy you want?"

Judy clenched her teeth, the bitterness of it all burning the back of her throat. "Fuck off."

Fiona chuckled, low and smug, her breath hot against Judy’s skin. Then her hand moved, slipping beneath the waistband of her shorts with a confidence that made Judy’s stomach turn. Fingers pressing down, holding her in place.

Judy jerked, tried to shove her off, but Fiona only tightened her grip, nails digging into sensitive skin.

"See?" Fiona purred, amusement dripping from every syllable. "You act tough, but I know the truth." She shifted her hand, just enough to make Judy gasp despite herself. "You’re wet." A taunting pause. "Obedient little slut."

Something in Judy snapped. A growl ripped from her throat as she wrenched herself free, shoving Fiona with every ounce of strength she had. It barely made her stumble, but it was enough. Enough for Judy to dart away, to snatch her phone from Fiona’s loosened grip, to put distance between them before the fury, the shame, the tangled mess of it all swallowed her whole.

She barely registered her own movements as she stormed toward the bathroom, slamming the door behind her with a force that rattled the walls. The lock clicked into place and Judy leaned back against the cold tile, pressing a trembling hand to her forehead. Her breath came too fast, too shallow, her body still humming with the aftershock.

When she turned to the mirror, she hardly recognized the girl staring back at her. Flushed skin, wide eyes, lips parted as if caught mid-confession. Her fingers twitched at her sides before she forced them to move, reaching for the medicine cabinet. The plastic bottle was small, unassuming. She popped the cap, tipped two tablets into her palm, and swallowed them dry. The bitterness clung to her tongue.

This was fucked. All of it.

Fiona had her by the throat. Controlled her finances, dictated where she could go, who she could talk to. And worst of all, she had her career wrapped around her goddamn finger. Judy hadn’t played well in weeks. She was slipping - losing her edge, her spot on the team. And if she lost that, then what? Crawling back to her grandparents, tail tucked between her legs? Letting them see her like this?

No.

Fiona had promised she’d fix it. Said watching that last Claws match from the bleachers was just a mistake, that the coach didn’t know what the fuck she was doing. She swore she’d get Judy back on the field. Back in control.

Judy wanted to believe her. Needed to.

But somewhere deep inside, past the pills, past the carefully constructed lies, something inside her whispered the truth.

It was all bullshit.

And yet, it was the only bullshit she had left.

***

Judy sat in the corner of the club, tucked into the shadows where the lights didn’t quite reach. The air was thick with sweat and smoke, the bass reverberating through her bones, but it all felt distant - like she was watching it happen from behind glass, separated from the noise and heat by something heavier than air. Like she wasn’t really there. And maybe she wasn’t, not in the way that counted.

Her thoughts were a jumbled mess, scattered fragments that barely formed anything resembling clarity. Her fingers drifted over the rim of her glass, mindlessly tracing the condensation, the ice inside melting, untouched.

Candy. It was always Candy. Fiona’s idea of a good time. A way to keep things light, to keep her from thinking too hard about anything real. But somewhere between the flashing strobes and the low hum of voices, Judy had lost herself. She didn’t know when it had started. Maybe it had always been like this, and she’d just been too caught up in the rush to notice. The haze was familiar now, like a second skin she wore.

Her body ached. A dull, bone-deep exhaustion that settled in her limbs, in the joints of her fingers, in the spaces between her ribs. She shifted, wincing as something beneath her skin throbbed - a bruise she didn’t remember getting, a mark she couldn’t place. That happened more often lately. Waking up sore, waking up with memories that didn’t fit together, pieces missing where there should’ve been something solid. Fiona always said they had a good time. But Judy wasn’t so sure anymore. The nights blurred into one long, painful stretch of bad decisions.

Fiona had told her it was part of the game, part of the lifestyle, but Judy had started to feel the cracks in the façade, even if she didn’t know how to escape it.

And soccer… it was forgotten. She was benched again, watching from the sidelines, trapped in the suffocating quiet of Fiona’s apartment while the Claws lost another match. The standings plummeted. The league was slipping away from them. And Judy? She was slipping away, too. No Rookie of the Year. Maybe no future in the league at all. Maybe that was it.

So, she needed a break. Candy-kind-of-break.

She was nineteen. And Fiona was thirty-five. She was supposed to guide her, shape her, make sure she climbed the ladder to stardom. But this didn’t feel like climbing. This felt like free-falling, like being dragged under by something she couldn’t see, couldn’t fight. It felt like Fiona was using her talent as a shield, a distraction, something to keep her own dirty secrets safe.

Someone laughed too close to her ear. Someone touched her thigh, fingers curling, lingering. Someone pressed something cool and bitter against her lips. She parted them before she could think better of it. A reflex. A habit. Another round of Candy? Maybe. The haze thickened, and Judy felt herself sinking further, her grip on reality loosening.

Fiona was watching. Always watching. Keeping her distracted, keeping her pliant. They didn’t say they loved each other anymore. They didn’t need to lie anymore. Fiona had found new ways to keep her close.

The club swayed around her, lights pulsing in time with the pounding in her skull. She tried to focus, tried to stitch together the last few hours, but her thoughts slipped through her fingers like smoke. Another drink, another high. Another night that blurred into the next.

Then a shift in the air. A presence beside her. Familiar but foreign. Raised voices. Judy blinked slowly, trying to place the sound, but the words slid past her ears, distorted, incomprehensible.

A hand. Tight around her arm. Pulling her up, dragging her forward. Her legs didn’t feel like her own.

Something pressed against her lips. A pill? A drink? Lips? Did it matter?

The world spun, lurched sideways.

***

When she woke up, she wasn’t in the club anymore.

The realization came slowly, cutting through the thick haze in her skull like a dull blade. Her body felt heavy, sluggish, as if it didn’t fully belong to her. The sheets beneath her were unfamiliar, their texture strange against her skin. And she was naked. She wasn’t anywhere she recognized.

A cold pulse of fear spread through her veins as she pushed herself upright. The room was dim, lit only by the weak neon glow bleeding in through the half-shuttered blinds. Shadows stretched across the walls, twisting into unfamiliar shapes. Her clothes lay in a crumpled heap on the floor, discarded carelessly, and the sight of them made something ugly curl in her stomach.

How did she get here?

She couldn’t remember. The night was a blur of flashing lights and heavy bass, of Fiona’s voice in her ear, of bitter pills, of drinks that burned on the way down. And then… nothing. A blank space where memories should be.

Judy swallowed, her throat raw and dry. Her hands shook as she reached for her clothes, the fabric feeling impossibly heavy between her fingers. She dressed quickly, but the layers didn’t make her feel any less exposed, any less vulnerable. Her skin still prickled, as if someone was watching her.

A sound drifted in from somewhere beyond the bedroom. The low clatter of dishes, the faint murmur of movement. Judy’s breath caught as she stepped out into the hall, her pulse hammering in her ears. The scent of food filled the air - eggs, something savory sizzling in a pan. The figure at the kitchen counter turned at the sound of her footsteps and stilled when their eyes met.

“There you are, sleepyhead.”

Judy felt the blood drain from her face.

“Maiko?”

Her voice came out rough, barely above a whisper. Her gaze darted to the kitchen, to the way Maiko stood so calmly, so at ease, like Judy belonged here. There was no warmth in her expression, no familiar teasing smirk - only a quiet, unreadable calm.

“You were pretty out of it yesterday,” Maiko said, watching her closely. “I had to fight you to get you out of that club.”

Judy’s stomach twisted. “What… happened?”

Maiko didn’t answer right away. Instead, she plated the eggs on the plate with an easy, deliberate motion, setting the dish down on the small table before patting the back of a chair.

“Got you home. Took care of you.”

Judy hesitated. Her legs felt unsteady beneath her, but she moved anyway, her body acting on instinct. She sat. Picked up the fork. Forced herself to take a bite, though the food turned to ash in her mouth. Her stomach was a knot of unease, nausea churning beneath the surface.

“You don’t need to worry about Fiona anymore.”

The words came soft, measured, but they landed like a blow. Judy froze mid-chew, her breath catching. The fork clattered against the plate.

Fiona was gone? The thought didn’t feel real. It felt like something distant, something she hadn’t quite grasped yet. But the way Maiko said it - serene, assured, final - made her stomach drop. She wanted to ask more, to demand answers, but the questions wouldn’t form, not with the dull ache that was spreading in her head.

Judy swallowed hard. “Did you—?”

She couldn’t finish the question. Fear crept up her spine, wrapping cold fingers around her throat. Did Maiko do something to Fiona? Had she made her disappear? The gang connections, the careful way Maiko always played the game behind the game - it all swirled together in her mind, pieces fitting together too neatly.

Maiko only smiled, slow and knowing. The kind of smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.

“Fiona was never really looking out for you,” she said smoothly. “But you’re safer now. With me.”

Judy’s chest tightened. She didn’t know what to believe. Didn’t know what to feel. The world felt off-kilter, spinning in a way she couldn’t control.

But Maiko was here. And Fiona… apparently, Fiona was gone.

Judy was so fucking tired of carrying this alone. She wanted it out. All of it. Even though each word felt like it was stripping something from her, leaving her raw, exposed. The weight of it was exhausting, memories clawing their way up from the dark corners of her mind, dragging her down with them. But Valerie was here. Solid, steady. The only thing keeping her from slipping under.

“They found Fiona’s body a couple days later.”

Her voice barely wavered, but the effort of keeping it steady cost her. She felt Valerie stiffen beneath her, though she said nothing. Didn’t demand answers. Just listened. Just held her.

Still, Judy could feel it. The slight tremor in Valerie’s fingers, the slow, controlled breath she took like she was trying to rein herself in. She was angry - not at Judy - but at the ghosts she had carried for too long. At the ones who had hurt her and left their marks.

Judy exhaled shakily, curling in closer. Valerie just pressed her lips to the top of her head, a quiet promise in the dark. “The police called it a suicide,” she said after a short pause, fingers trailing the sharp line of Val’s collarbone, slow and deliberate, like she needed something tangible to ground her through the telling. “But I knew better. Almost certain the Tyger Claws had something to do with it. You know how they work… they’ve killed for less.”

The words sat between them like smoke, thick and suffocating. Valerie remained silent, waiting, her arm still snug around Judy’s waist.

Judy swallowed, a bitter taste lingering in her mouth. “Rhino didn’t extend her contract, and suddenly, my game went to shit. Like clockwork. They knew why. Someone must’ve tipped them off that it was Fiona’s fault.” A mirthless laugh scraped against her throat. “Probably Maiko.”

The name landed like rust on her tongue, corroded and metallic, poisoning something deep inside her. Valerie’s fingers brushed over her arm, a small, silent reassurance, but Judy barely registered it.

“And Maiko… she was different,” Judy murmured, her voice distant. “But not really. Just one toxic relationship into another. They both started sweet, you know? Until the mask slipped. And by then, you’re already too deep in.”

Her hand stilled against Valerie’s skin. The next words came slower, more measured, like speaking them aloud gave shape to something she had only ever allowed herself to acknowledge in pieces. “She was possessive. And she always reminded me she was the one who saved me from Fiona. That I owed her.” Her lips twitched at the bitter irony, the ghost of a smile that never quite formed. “And I believed it. I was her little toy, and I let her do whatever she wanted. At least she never messed with soccer. She even helped me, sent me to a rehab center that summer. And I was grateful. I thought, maybe, that was enough. That I could focus on the game, keep my head down, and just play.”

Valerie’s hand ghosted down her spine, hesitant, checking if she wanted to continue, but Judy just shook her head. She needed to finish this.

“On that pitch…” She took a breath, steadying herself. “I could run away from everything. From my problems, my memories, my doubts, all the bullshit. Even Maiko. Even Fiona.” Her throat tightened. “And I put everything into it. That second season was one of the best I’ve ever had. Rita joined the team. We played together in Juniors, so I was happy to have my friend back. Claws were getting better. We were on our way to a championship. And then… they told us to throw a match.”

The memory came back in sharp, visceral flashes - the taste of bile at the back of her throat, the sting of her nails biting into her palms, nearly breaking the skin. She had let them do so much to her. At that point, she hadn’t cared what happened to her body, to her future, not really. But this - this had been the line she couldn’t let them cross.

“That was the last fuckin’ straw.”

She let the words settle, breathing through the weight of them.

“Reggie offered us a spot on her squad when I called to say what Suzie did,” she went on, quieter now. “Rita helped me pack my shit, and we left the next day. Never looked back.”

Not entirely true. At least not the full truth. There was still more to say, more to unravel about those last few weeks in Night City, things she hadn’t had the strength to put into words yet. But she would. She would tell Val. Just… not tonight.

The silence stretched between them - not empty, but thick with understanding, with something raw and unbreakable. The only sound was the faint rhythm of Valerie’s breathing, the soft brush of her fingertips tracing slow, soothing circles along Judy’s shoulder, as if trying to smooth out the weight of all the wounds left behind.

Judy swallowed hard. She hesitated, searching for the right way to say it, to make Valerie understand. Her throat was tight, her chest heavy, but the words came anyway, barely more than a breath. “But all of this… it almost killed me. When I say I trust you—”

Valerie didn’t let her finish. Before she could pull away, she shifted, pressing a firm, lingering kiss to the top of her head. When she spoke, her voice was steady, certain, warm against Judy’s skin. “I know.”

Two words. No doubt. No hesitation. Just a quiet, undeniable truth.

Judy’s fingers curled into the fabric of Valerie’s shirt, holding on like it was the only thing keeping her anchored. Valerie pressed another kiss to her hair, softer this time, her lips barely moving as she whispered, “I love you, Judy. More than anything. And I’d do whatever it takes to make sure you never have to go through something like that again. I’d give anything to go back, to be there for you, to help you then.” A pause, just long enough for Judy to feel the weight of her next words. “But I’m here now. And so are you. You survived this.”

Judy let out a shaky breath, her body folding into Valerie’s embrace, pressing herself into the warmth and solidity of her. She barely registered the words at first, but Valerie’s voice broke through, steady and sure.

“You’re the strongest person I know.”

Judy shut her eyes tight, but it didn’t stop the way her throat clenched, the sting of tears threatening to spill over, the way her breath hitched as something sharp twisted in her chest.

“I was naïve and stupid,” she whispered, voice breaking. “They manipula—”

“No, Jude,” Valerie cut her off, gentle but unyielding. “You weren’t. You were just a kid.” She exhaled, shaking her head like she could force Judy to believe her. “You’re not stupid for being vulnerable. And you sure as hell aren’t wrong for trusting people who should’ve had your back. You can’t blame yourself for that. They’re the monsters. They should fuckin’ burn for what they did to you.”

Judy sucked in a sharp breath, but before she could respond, before she could throw another protest, another gallon of gasoline on the fire already eating her up from the inside, the dam broke. The sobs hit her like a wave, sudden and unstoppable, wracking her frame before she could even think to hold them back. Her arms moved on their own, weak and desperate, reaching for Valerie, clinging to her like a lifeline.

And Valerie - she didn’t hesitate. She gathered Judy against her, shifting down until they were tangled together, wrapping her up in warmth, in certainty, in a presence that didn’t waver, didn’t falter. Her arms held tight, strong, unshakable. One hand stroked slow, soothing circles down her back, while the other curled protectively around her head, fingers threading through her hair, cradling her.

Judy burrowed into her, gripping the fabric of Valerie’s shirt like she was terrified she’d disappear if she let go. The pain poured out of her in broken sobs, in hiccupped breaths, in all the unspoken things she’d buried for years.

She didn’t know how long she cried. Didn’t know how long Valerie held her through it, whispering into her hair, murmuring soft reassurances that blurred into the edges of her grief. Valerie didn’t stop even when her voice grew hoarse. She just kept holding her. Kept talking. Kept pressing small, lingering kisses - against her temple, her forehead, the bridge of her nose, her cheeks. Every touch an affirmation. Every whisper a quiet declaration of love, filling all the spaces where someone else’s words had left scars.

She didn’t push, didn’t try to force Judy’s pain into something smaller, something more manageable. She just stayed.

And then, as the storm inside her finally began to quiet, Valerie murmured against her skin, her lips brushing against her neck. “I’m not going anywhere.” A promise, steady as bedrock. “I won’t let anyone touch you.”

Judy’s breath shuddered out of her. Something inside her, something that had been wound tight for years, brittle and cold and heavy and suffocating - finally, finally uncoiled. The tightness in her chest loosened. She inhaled deep, pressing closer, and Valerie only held her tighter, like she knew exactly what she needed.

She dipped her head, breathing her in. Judy let herself do the same.

She wasn’t Fiona. She wasn’t Maiko.

Valerie wouldn’t manipulate her. Wouldn’t use her. Wouldn’t let her break alone. Wouldn’t leave her in pieces.

She loved her. And for the first time - without doubt, without fear - Judy let herself believe it. This was different. Valerie was different.

She was safe.

Chapter Text

Chapter XVII | River
Choke this love 'til the veins start to shiver, one last breath 'til the tears start to wither.

The bed felt colder than it should.

Judy stirred, instinct reaching before thought, fingers searching for the familiar warmth that belonged beside her. But she found nothing - just the cool press of empty sheets. Her hand lingered, pressing into the mattress as if she could summon Valerie back, as if the heat of her body might still be trapped in the fabric. But it was already fading.

Her eyes fluttered open, the fog of sleep still clinging to the edges of her mind. Valerie was gone. The realization hit like a strike to the ribs, panic swelling in her chest before she could push it down. A hollow, aching feeling she knew too well, one that lived in the marrow of her bones - the sting of waking up alone. Of reaching for someone who wasn’t there. Of being left behind. Forgotten.

She told herself not to jump to conclusions. That this wasn’t the same as before. But fear had a way of moving faster than reason, drowning out memory, warping reality. Her mind didn’t recall last night - the way Valerie had held her, whispering soft reassurances in the dark, tracing invisible patterns along her back as if writing promises into her skin. It didn’t remind her of the way Valerie had looked at her, something unshakable in her eyes, something that made Judy believe, even when belief was hard.

No. The fear came first. Loud and blinding and suffocating. Drowning out reason. Judy exhaled, slow and shaky, forcing herself to ground the spiraling thoughts before they could take her too far.

Then - a flicker of movement beyond the glass doors. A silhouette against the first light of morning, barely illuminated by the muted glow of a sky still waking up. Judy blinked hard, her pulse still uneven in her throat. Valerie was still here. She hadn’t left. She wasn’t running. This wasn’t about survival anymore. Judy had to remind herself of that. She was safe. Valerie loved her. And she had to stop waiting for everything to fall apart.

Slipping out of bed, she grabbed Val’s hoodie draped over the chair, pulling it over her head before padding barefoot across the room. The fabric was oversized, the sleeves swallowing her hands, the scent of Valerie still clinging to it, comforting in a way she couldn’t explain.

The moment she stepped outside, Valerie noticed her. A sharp inhale. A hurried swipe at her cheeks, a futile attempt to erase the evidence of her tears before Judy saw. But it was too late.

“Beautiful sunrise, huh?” Valerie’s voice was rough, edged with exhaustion, scraped raw from a sleepless night. She tried for casual, but Judy heard the weight behind it, heavy and impossible to ignore.

She didn’t glance at the sky, didn’t take in the hues of soft gold and muted violet stretching across the horizon. She only looked at Valerie. At the bloodshot eyes, the dark smudges beneath them. The way her fingers trembled slightly where they rested on the railing.

Something twisted inside her, sharp and cruel. This was her fault.

The thought struck deep, but she shoved it down before it could take root. No. That wasn’t fair. Valerie had needed to know the truth. To understand. They had agreed - no secrets, no blurred pasts. She knew that. And yet, seeing her like this, hollowed out and fraying at the edges, made guilt coil tight in Judy’s stomach.

“Did you sleep at all?” she asked, stepping closer, still bracing - for what? For Valerie to pull away? To shut down? To leave?

But Val didn’t abandon her. She didn’t run. Instead, she reached for Judy, pulling her in, wrapping her arms around her like she was something to hold onto. Something solid. Something real. Judy exhaled against her shoulder, feeling the way Valerie clung to her, the way she needed this as much as Judy did. Then - a kiss, soft against the crook of her neck. A deep inhale, like Valerie was memorizing her scent, imprinting the moment, needing proof that Judy was still here.

The same way Judy needed that reassurance.

“I didn’t,” Valerie admitted, after a moment. Her voice was low, honest. No bullshit. No attempt at pretending. “But it doesn’t matter.”

Judy sighed, but let the blue-haired woman pull her toward one of the rickety balcony chairs. The wood creaked beneath them as she settled onto Valerie’s lap, feeling the familiar press of strong arms winding around her waist - steady and sure. Valerie held her close, grounding her, but Judy still searched her face, watching for cracks, for distance. For evidence that last night’s confessions had shifted something in the fragile peace they had carved out for themselves.

But what she found took her breath away. That unwavering tenderness, the quiet, boundless love that always lived in Valerie’s gaze when she looked at Judy. And yet, something else burned behind the gray, something darker, simmering just beneath the surface.

“Yesterday—” Judy started, her voice small, uncertain.

But before she could say more, Valerie cut in, a faint, almost fragile smile tugging at the corner of her lips. Her fingers tightened against Judy’s side. “You’re amazing, y’know that?”

Judy let out a breathless laugh, shaking her head. Typical Val - deflecting, sidestepping the gravity of the moment, masking pain with a casual remark. But Judy had learned to see past the bravado, past the forced grins. She knew better. Her fingers moved instinctively, brushing away the unshed tears clinging to Valerie’s lashes. Then she leaned in, pressing their foreheads together, letting the closeness steady her, letting the warmth of it settle something frayed inside her chest.

“Val, it’s nothing compared to what you went through. All this shit—”

“It’s not a competition, baby.”

“I know, it’s just…” Judy swallowed, the knot in her throat tightening. The words burned on the way out, shame curling in her stomach. “I let them do it to me. I walked into that. I didn’t run. I don’t deserve pity.”

Valerie’s arms locked around her, the grip firm, almost desperate. A promise. Her warmth seared against Judy’s skin. “It’s not pity, Jude. It’s awe.” Her voice was calm, firm - unchanging in its conviction. “You have nothing to be ashamed of… You’re a survivor. That monster—if she wasn’t dead already, I’d kill her. I’d fuckin’ kill her.” A sharp inhale. A pause. “I’m still considering killin’ Maiko.”

Judy stilled. Because she could see it – the truth in those words. That raw, unfiltered fury radiating off Valerie in waves. The barely contained violence humming beneath the surface, the need to destroy, to unleash hell on anything or anyone who had hurt her. Waiting, begging for an outlet. It coiled tight in her muscles, simmered in the sharp edge of her jaw.

Judy had seen this look before - had watched it settle over Valerie like a second skin. This wasn’t her Val - the one who whispered sleepy confessions in the early hours, the one who kissed her like she was memorizing her, the one who carried her name like something sacred.

No, this was something else. This was the soldier. The weapon FIA had spent years perfecting. The agent Myers had sharpened into something cold and ruthless. Judy recognized it instantly, and she knew she had to pull her back before she drowned in it.

“Hey,” she whispered, brushing a gentle hand over Valerie’s cheek. “Stop.”

Val blinked, as if surfacing from something dark and distant, only now realizing just how tightly wound she had become.

“It’s the past,” Judy continued, her voice soft, careful, coaxing her back from the ledge. “I wanted you to know. I wanted you to understand what happened between me and Fiona. But I don’t want you to spiral. I don’t want you looking for a fight or doing something reckless. She’s gone, Val. Let’s not give her the satisfaction. They don’t matter anymore. Let’s forget about it. Let’s move on.”

Valerie blinked again, slower this time. A beat of silence stretched between them, thick with things neither of them knew how to say. Then she exhaled, her arms loosening just enough to shift Judy closer, her lips finding the curve of her throat, the line of her jaw, pressing soft, lingering kisses into her skin like an unspoken apology.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured, breath warm against Judy’s collarbone. “I’m sorry that my normal is… seein’ red. That violence is the first place my mind goes. It’s a habit. It’s how I was raised. How I survived. Hit first, ask questions second.”

Judy carded her fingers through Valerie’s hair, tilting her head just enough to meet her eyes. “You don’t have to be like that anymore,” she reminded her, voice gentle but firm. “We’re not in a warzone. You’re not in danger, baby. I’m not in danger. We’re just playing soccer.”

Valerie stiffened - just for a second.

Then, slowly, her gaze lifted, gray eyes locking onto brown. “I—I want to believe that, Jude,” she admitted, her voice quieter now, stripped of its usual edge. “I really do. But we both know there’s more to it.”

Judy’s stomach twisted. Because she was right. There was more. More happening behind the scenes, shifting in the dark, waiting for the right moment to strike. And Valerie couldn’t just focus on them, on the game, on a future outside of all this. She was still trapped in a world that refused to let her go.

Her life was on the line. And Judy hated it. She hated the way it coiled tight inside her chest. Hated the way uncertainty gnawed at the edges of her mind, setting every nerve on alert. For so long, she had built her life around control - routine, predictability, carefully chosen spaces where nothing could catch her off guard. She had spent years burying herself in that safety net, convincing herself she had outrun the chaos. That she could forget.

And now - now, that safety was collapsing. The slow burn of anxiety took over her body. It was an itch in the back of her skull, a tingling beneath her skin. It was the way her heart pounded too loud in her ears, how her fingers curled into fists before she even realized it. It was the helplessness, the realization that no matter what she did, she couldn’t stop this. Couldn’t fix this.

And worst of all - she couldn’t protect Valerie from it.

It terrified her. The unpredictability. The free fall. The fact that she couldn’t predict what would happen next. And she hated feeling like this, like she was slipping even as Valerie held her in place. She wanted to be strong. To be Val’s rock, the person she could lean on. But right now, she felt like dead weight. Like someone Valerie had to carry instead of someone strong enough to hold her up.

Judy exhaled sharply, forcing herself to loosen her clenched jaw, to shake off the tension winding through her limbs. Then, she nudged Valerie lightly, her voice softer than before. “Come on. Let’s go back to bed. We’ve got a few more hours before we’re needed downstairs.”

Valerie hesitated for a fraction of a second before nodding.

They rose together, slipping back beneath the covers, their bodies tangling in the space that had felt too empty, too cold just moments before. Judy pressed in close, let herself be wrapped in Valerie’s warmth, let herself sink into it. Into something that, for now, felt like home.

The late afternoon sun stretched long shadows across the pavement as Judy and Valerie threw their duffel bags into the open trunk of the NUSNWT bus. The air was thick, humming with pre-match tension - the kind that settled under the skin, coiled in the stomach, and refused to let go. Judy wiped her damp palms against the fabric of her sweats, shaking off the nerves, but beside her, Valerie remained unnaturally still. Judy followed her gaze, already dreading what she’d find.

Maiko stood near the hotel entrance, deep in conversation with Georgina. She looked the same as always - composed, unreadable, her lips curved in that familiar, ever-present smirk that had once made Judy’s stomach twist with resentment. But it wasn’t her own reaction she was worried about. It was Valerie’s. Her body was wound tight, every muscle coiled as if waiting for the moment to snap.

And Judy could feel it - could feel the slow, dangerous build of something volatile. Saw in the way her girlfriend’s jaw clenched like she was grinding her teeth to dust. The silence around her wasn’t passive - it was the quiet before a storm.

She moved without thinking. Her fingers closed around Val’s wrist just as she shifted, just as her weight leaned forward, like she was already halfway to making a decision she wouldn’t be able to take back. Valerie stopped, but she didn’t look at Judy. Her stare was locked onto Maiko, sharp as a blade, tracking every flick of her expression with a predator’s patience.

Judy tightened her grip - not harsh, not forceful, but insistent. She felt the tension thrumming beneath the blue-haired woman’s skin, felt the barely contained explosion in the way her pulse hammered beneath her fingertips.

Still, Valerie didn’t move.

Judy exhaled sharply. Then, without hesitation, she reached up with her free hand and cupped Valerie’s jaw, turning her face toward her, forcing their gazes to meet.

“Don’t.”

The word was soft but steady, firm in the way that left no room for argument.

“It’s in the past. It doesn’t matter anymore.”

For a long, stretched-out second, Valerie just stared at her. The heat of whatever had ignited inside her still burned, flickering behind those storm-gray eyes. Judy held her breath, not sure she’d gotten through. But then, after what felt like forever, Valerie let out a sharp sigh. She closed her eyes just long enough to wrestle herself back under control. When she opened them again, some of the fire had dimmed. She gave a single nod.

They boarded the bus together, blending into the quiet shuffle of teammates finding their seats. The air inside buzzed with low murmurs, the occasional burst of laughter from the veterans, the quiet rustle of gear bags shifting against the floor. But Judy barely registered any of it. She followed Valerie down the aisle, slipping into a seat beside her, the stiff moment still pressing against her skin, replaying in her mind.

Valerie moved with slow deliberation, tugging her headphones from the pocket of her hoodie. A second later, the faint thrum of music filled the space between them - a wall, a refuge, a shield.

Neither of them spoke on the way to the stadium. Neither of them looked at each other. But Judy felt it - the weight of her girlfriend’s palm, warm and solid against her own, their fingers loosely entwined between them.

She held on. And Valerie didn’t let go.

The final group match was unfolding with a rhythm that pulsed through the stadium like a war drum, but for once, Judy wasn’t rattled by it. Compared to their brutal, teeth-gritting battle against Argentina, this match against Spain felt almost merciful. The home crowd roared, desperate to will their team back into the fight, but the scoreboard told a different story - 1:3, with less than five minutes left on the clock. It wasn’t over yet, but barring a catastrophe, they had this in the bag.

And winning wasn’t just about taking the top spot in their group - it was about what came next. A victory here would set them on a collision course with France, and with Aurore Cassel. That match, more than any other, was the one they had to reach. Reed’s plan depended on it. Valerie’s survival depended on it.

Judy exhaled sharply, dragging her focus back to the field, but it was no use. Her mind wasn’t in the tournament, not the way it should have been. It wasn’t the championship or the glory that kept her up at night, that made her stomach coil tight with something dangerously close to fear. No, it was Valerie. It was her survival. Her mission. The fucked-up situation she was in.

That woman had carved herself into Judy’s thoughts so thoroughly that there was no room for anything else. She felt ridiculous, knew it wasn’t fair - to herself, to her team - but none of it mattered. Valerie was the one thing she wanted in a world that had never let her hold on to anything for long. The one thing she wasn’t willing to lose. She’d spent years searching for something that felt like home, a place where she could finally breathe without waiting for the walls to cave in. And now, against all odds, she’d found it in someone she had barely known for a handful of months.

It was reckless. It was fucking crazy. But she couldn’t help herself. She didn’t care about anything else - she just wanted Val to be safe.

Each passing second of the match felt like a knife’s edge, a precarious balance between glory and tragedy. The weight of impending disaster settled heavily on Judy’s shoulders as the final moments ticked away. Victory loomed just within reach - their defense, sharper than it had been all tournament, had the Spanish team cornered, suffocating them with relentless pressure.

But a cornered beast could strike with unpredictable ferocity.

Judy tore down the left flank, the soles of her cleats biting into the damp grass as she wove through defenders, her breath coming in sharp bursts. Just as she angled her body to deliver a crucial pass, an unseen force yanked her backward, the sharp tug of fingers knotting in her jersey breaking her momentum. Another body crashed into her, sending her sprawling onto the turf.

The impact rattled her bones, pain seared through her side, radiating from where her ribs had absorbed the force of the hit. She barely had time to process it before a sharp boot struck her side again. The stomp on her shoulder that followed was deliberate, cruel. Dirty cleats breaking her skin.

A sickening wave of agony washed over her, agony so intense that Judy felt on the brink of unconsciousness, her vision narrowing to a dim tunnel of misery. Her body curled inward as her breath came in shallow, pained gasps. She heard the referee’s whistle, the sudden eruption of voices around her - a mix of outrage and disbelief - but it all blurred together beneath the red haze of suffering.

Then came the sound that broke through everything else.

Valerie’s voice, sharp and furious, cutting through the chaos. Judy didn’t need to see her to know what was happening - she could feel the raw, unchecked fury in every syllable, could picture Valerie storming toward the defender like a woman possessed, fists clenched, body thrumming with the need to retaliate. The thought sent a different kind of panic surging through her. This wasn’t just about a game anymore. One wrong move, one moment of reckless anger, and Valerie could lose everything.

With every ounce of strength she had left, Judy forced herself up. Her limbs felt like lead, her vision swimming as she staggered toward the growing commotion. The pain in her shoulder was a relentless throb, but she ignored it, her focus locked solely on the blue-haired woman.

Valerie was right in the defender’s face now, her body taut with barely restrained violence. Her breath came fast and ragged, her knuckles white where her hands curled into fists. Her eyes blazing with a fierce determination that bordered on madness. The Spanish player barely flinched, lips curling into a taunting smirk, as if daring Valerie to take the final step toward disaster.

But Judy wasn’t about to let her.

Summoning every last shred of strength, she pushed forward and grabbed Valerie’s jersey, yanking her back. The effort nearly sent her toppling over, pain flaring white-hot in her shoulder, but she refused to let go. She wrenched Valerie around to face her, gripping her with both hands despite the agony it sent lancing through her side and arm.

“Stop, Val, for fuck’s sake!” The words came out rough, breathless, but they were enough to snap Valerie’s attention away from her target. Their eyes met, Valerie’s still burning with rage. Judy pushed on, her tone commanding. “You can’t do this, you fuckin’ idiot! You’ll get suspended! I’m fine—this is part of the game. You throw a punch, and we lose everything. Do you get that?”

For a long, terrible moment, Valerie just stared at her. Then her gaze dropped, taking in the way Judy clutched her shoulder, the blood staining her once white jersey. The fire in her eyes suddenly dimmed, replaced by something heavier, something guilt-ridden.

“I’m so sorry, Jude,” Valerie whispered, her voice hoarse, cracking at the edges. “I didn’t—"

“Didn’t think! Exactly!” Judy interjected, shaking her head. The frustration in her voice was palpable, mingled with the raw pain still pulsing through her. “You were about to throw it all away—for what? Breaking some asshole’s nose?” She exhaled sharply, wincing at the motion. “Fucking hell, Val.”

They were on the cusp of a critical match against France, a game that held profound implications for Valerie’s life. Every bad decision made in these final moments, mattered more than ever. And Judy needed Val to understand it.

Then Valerie’s face fell, the weight of Judy’s words clearly sinking in. But before either of them could say another word, a hand landed firmly on Judy’s good arm.

“Come on, Alvy,” Vik’s voice cut through the tension, calm but leaving no room for argument. The team’s doctor had appeared beside her, his expression set in stone. “You need to get off the pitch and have that shoulder looked at.”

Judy hesitated for only a second before nodding. She turned to Valerie one last time, eyes flashing with an intensity that left no room for doubt. It was a silent message, a desperate plea - one she knew Valerie would understand.

Do not fuck this up.

As she allowed Vik to lead her toward the sidelines, the adrenaline that had fueled her finally began to ebb, leaving her exhausted, aching, and keenly aware of just how close they had come to disaster. The game raged on behind her, the roar of the crowd a distant hum beneath the storm still churning inside her.

She knew that they had survived this moment by the skin of their teeth. And the weight of that knowledge pressed heavily upon her, a somber reminder of how precarious Valerie’s situation truly was. The real battle was still ahead. And there was no room left for mistakes.

Judy sat perched on the edge of the examination table, clad only in a sports bra and shorts, her skin pebbling under the sterile chill of the medical room. The fluorescent lights buzzed faintly overhead, casting an unforgiving glow on the bruises blooming across her shoulder and ribcage. A deep, mottled purple spread in angry patterns, the remnants of a brutal impact, the defender’s cleats having left their mark like ink pressed into parchment.

Vik moved with the practiced ease of a man who had seen his fair share of battered bodies. His face remained impassive, save for the slight furrow of his brow as his fingers ghosted over her shoulder, pressing gently, searching. The touch was light but clinical, and Judy hissed through gritted teeth as his hand found a particularly tender spot.

“Deep bruising,” he murmured, half to himself. “Possible subluxation.”

She barely had time to register the words before he moved with sudden precision - one sharp pull on her forearm, a forceful shift that sent pain ricocheting through her nerves like an electric current. A guttural sound tore from Judy’s throat, half gasp, half strangled groan, as her shoulder snapped back into place with a sickening pop. The relief was immediate, though the lingering pain still pulsed beneath the surface, dull but insistent.

“Shit,” she exhaled, voice strained. “A warning would be nice, doc.”

“Sorry,” Vik muttered, though he didn’t look particularly apologetic. He was already securing a bandage around her shoulder, his hands methodical, the movement effortless in its familiarity. The wrap was tight, stabilizing, and when he finally pressed an ice pack against her skin, the cold seeped deep, soothing the worst of the heat radiating from her battered flesh.

“You’ll be sore for a while,” he said, his voice laced with quiet authority. “Keep icing it, don’t push too hard, and for the love of God, try not to get yourself knocked around any more than necessary. It will heal fast, but you need to take care of it.”

Judy gave a tight nod, her breathing still uneven, the sting of her injuries a constant undercurrent. She thought that was the end of it, that Vik would send her on her way with his usual no-nonsense instructions, but then his gaze sharpened, lingering on her with something keener than concern. With curiosity.

“Can I ask you something?”

Judy stiffened slightly but nodded, wary.

“Why were you so furious with Bakker? She was just defending her captain. Rookie instinct. Seen it plenty of times before.”

Judy felt her stomach twist, her mind racing for an answer that wouldn’t give too much away. The FIA plan, what was happening behind the scenes, her mounting frustration with Valerie’s recklessness - none of that could be laid bare here. Viktor was a good man, but some things had to stay buried.

She took a slow, measured breath, forcing her voice into something steady, something that sounded reasonable. “She’s important to the team,” she said, her words carefully chosen. “We can’t afford to lose her with the quarterfinals coming up. A suspension would screw us, and I was just—” she exhaled, letting just enough of her frustration bleed into her tone to sell it— “trying to keep her from doing something stupid.”

Vik studied her, his silence stretching just long enough to make her pulse quicken. Judy held his gaze, willing him to believe it, to let it go. Finally, after a beat too long, he gave a slow, deliberate nod.

“Alright,” he said, though the edge of doubt still lingered in his voice. “I’ll take your word for it.” His expression softened, the professionalism giving way to gentleness. “Just… make sure you look after yourself, okay?”

Judy exhaled, a weary smile flickering across her lips, gratitude seeping into the exhaustion weighing down her limbs.

But the relief was fleeting. The moment of reprieve shattered as the door creaked open, and Valerie stumbled into the room. Judy barely had time to register her presence before the weight of it hit her.

Val stood there, uniform clinging to her like a second skin, drenched in sweat, hair a tangled mess, damp strands plastered to her flushed face. The physical toll of the game was scrawled across every inch of her - bruises, tension, a restless energy that hadn’t yet burned itself out. But it was her eyes, bloodshot and wild, that held Judy captive. A storm churned within them, fury and desperation coiled together so tightly that it seemed ready to snap.

“We won,” she whispered.

Viktor’s gaze flickered between the two of them, and though he said nothing, the understanding in his expression was unmistakable. He pushed himself up from his stool, the leather creaking under the shift in weight. A knowing smirk ghosted his lips. “I’ll leave you two alone,” he murmured, voice carrying that quiet, perceptive patience that made him so damn good at what he did. “Painkillers are on the table. Don’t go overboard with these, Alvy.”

With that, he was gone, the door clicking shut behind him, leaving behind only silence.

Valerie stood there for a moment, swaying slightly, her breath coming in uneven bursts. Her hands curled into fists at her sides, then released. Her eyes flitted anxiously from Judy’s face to the freshly bandaged shoulder. And then something broke in her face. Her fingers twitched, as if resisting the urge to reach out. When she finally moved, it was with hesitant steps, like she was afraid of what was about to come.

She dropped into Vik’s chair without a word, her body folding in on itself. The tension in her shoulders was visible, the weight of what she had done settling heavy on her spine. She reached out, her hand hovering near Judy’s leg - too cautious, too careful, as though she feared being pushed away.

Judy shifted before she could make contact, the movement deliberate, unmistakable. A silent rejection. Resistance.

Valerie’s hand faltered in mid-air before falling away, curling uselessly against her thigh. Her eyes darkened, something small and wounded flickering behind them. But she didn’t argue, didn’t fight it. Instead, she exhaled slowly, a tremor in the breath as she gathered herself, shoulders sagging beneath the weight of things unsaid.

The room was thick with it, the pressure threading through the air like an electrical current. Judy refused to meet her girlfriend’s gaze, eyes locked onto a scuff mark on the floor, lips pressed into a firm, unyielding line. Anger simmered beneath her skin, but it wasn’t the sharp, volatile kind that burned hot and fast - it was deeper, heavier, the kind that lingered, twisting itself into something ugly and resentful.

Valerie drew a shuddering breath, voice unsteady when she finally spoke. “Jude, I—I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to make things worse. I just... I wanted to help.”

Judy’s fingers curled into the fabric of her shorts. The pain in her shoulder throbbed in time with her pulse, but it was nothing compared to the ache spreading in her chest. Her voice was quiet when she spoke, but the steel in it was unmistakable.

“Getting suspended wouldn’t help anyone,” she said, the words carefully measured, held back from the raw anger clawing at her ribs. “It would just complicate everything further… And what bothers me is that you didn’t even think about the consequences. You didn’t think about what’s at stake. It’s like you’ve stopped caring about your future… about ours.”

“It was instinct,” Valerie murmured. “When I saw you on the grass… fuck, I just wanted to protect you. And I wanted to kill her. That bitch—”

“Knew exactly what she was doing,” Judy cut in, her tone laced with quiet venom as she finally turned to face her partner. “And you fell right into her trap without a second thought. Val, I’m just—I’m disappointed.”

Valerie flinched at that, barely perceptible, but Judy caught it. Something inside her twisted, but she pushed it down.

“You know how brutal this game is—the tackles, the injuries, the dares, all of it. It’s part of the sport,” she continued, voice steady, controlled. “And this is my world, Val. It’s been mine since I was a teenager. I know the price you have to pay to be the best. I can take care of myself. I don’t need you to be my protector. Not on the pitch.”

Valerie’s lips parted, but no words came. Instead, her eyes glistened, unshed tears reflecting the sterile light overhead.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered after a tense moment, the words brittle, on the verge of breaking.

Judy sighed, pressing her fingers against her temple. “I know you’re sorry,” she muttered, voice frayed with exhaustion. “But that doesn’t fix anything, does it? You’re in a situation so serious… and with everything I’ve put on the line for you… you should have known better.”

She exhaled sharply, running a hand through her hair, frustration thick in her movements. “I’ve changed because of you,” she admitted, voice quieter now, exposed. “I’m not myself anymore—I’m not focused on the tournament. All I’m doing is making sure we’ll play against France so you can do what you have to do to save yourself. You know how important this championship was to me, but now… now it doesn’t matter as much. All I can think about is your surgery, your mission for the fuckin’ FIA. You basically—You’ve ruined this for me.”

The words landed heavy between them. Valerie’s mouth opened slightly, a breath caught in her throat, but nothing came.

Judy could see the way the guilt pressed down on her, could feel the weight of it in the silence that followed. Judy knew she deserved it. And yet, it didn’t soothe the anger simmering beneath her skin. It only made it worse. She was furious. Because she had sacrificed so much, given up parts of herself she wasn’t sure she could ever get back - and for what? For Valerie to be reckless? To throw everything away on a single, impulsive act?

Doubt curled at the edges of her mind, insidious and unwelcome. Did Valerie even see their future the same way she did? Did it matter to her as much as it mattered to Judy? She feared the answer to this question, and it left her utterly defeated.

She needed space. She needed to breathe before she said something she couldn’t take back.

“I know I’ve put a burden on you—” Valerie began, voice heavy with guilt, but Judy cut her off with a sharp, angry glance.

“No, you don’t know,” she snapped, her tone colder now, distant, pushing a wedge between them that Valerie couldn’t cross. Judy barely recognized her own voice, the steel in it, the way it barely wavered despite the raw ache lodged in her chest. She swallowed down the tremor in her throat, forcing herself to stay firm. “Look, Val… I need time—to think, to calm down, to sort through all of this. You should go. Catch the first bus.”

A pause. Then, quieter, though no softer. “We’ll talk later.”

Valerie’s gaze bore into her, drilling deep, searching for something - an opening, an invitation, anything that might let her stay. The weight of it was almost suffocating, as if she could will Judy into yielding just by looking at her hard enough. But Judy held steady, spine locked, jaw clenched. The walls were up, reinforced, shielding the storm raging inside. Anger, exhaustion, hurt - they all churned together, flying freely through her veins. A tangled mess of emotion she wasn’t ready to face.

She knew what Valerie wanted. She could feel it in the way her partner stayed poised there, unmoving, waiting for some sign that Judy wasn’t shutting the door completely. That there was still something left to salvage. That she could still be forgiven. But Judy wasn’t ready to offer that - not yet. Not like this. The pain was too raw, too immediate, and letting Valerie in now would mean unraveling completely.

The room, once spacious, now felt oppressive, the silence between them growing denser with every passing moment. Valerie looked like she wanted to say something, as if she was scrambling for right words, something that might stitch together what had come undone between them. But the space had already widened into a chasm. And Judy, stubborn as she was, let it happen.

Then, finally, a shift. A slow, resigned nod from Valerie - small, almost imperceptible, but Judy felt the weight of it like a punch to the gut. Val turned toward the door, her footsteps slow, burdened with the weight of unspoken sorrow. Each step away from Judy carried the weight of something unresolved, something that would linger long after she was gone. Judy’s breath came shallow, her fingers curling into fists at her sides, nails pressing half-moons into her palms as she willed herself not to call her back.

The door opened. A sharp inhale. A moment where Judy almost – almost - reached out, but that moment passed. Judy’s heart pounded in her chest as she watched her go, knowing that this wasn’t how things were supposed to be, but feeling powerless to stop it.

Then the door clicked shut. The silence it left in its wake was unbearable.

Judy stared at the empty space where Valerie had been, as if she could still see her sitting there. Then, all at once, the dam inside her cracked. Her breath hitched, her throat burned, and before she could stop it, a sob tore free, violent and raw. She pressed the heels of her hands to her face, as if that might somehow hold back the tidal wave of emotion crashing through her, but it was no use. Her body trembled with the force of it - anger, fear, helplessness - all of it breaking loose in a rush of shaking shoulders and gasping breaths, overwhelming her completely.

She hated this. She hated the way Valerie had looked at her, like she was already bracing for the loss. She hated the way she hadn’t been able to stop her from walking away. She hated the way things had spiraled so far out of control.

And more than anything, she hated how it all felt so fucking inevitable.

Judy moved down the dimly lit hotel hallway, her footsteps barely whispering against the threadbare carpet. Each step felt heavier than the last, as though she was pushing through something unseen, something thick with the weight of the unspoken.

By the time she reached their door, her breath had slowed, measured and deliberate, exhaustion tightening around her ribs like a shrinking cage. She hesitated, fingers ghosting over the handle, her grip uncertain. A part of her wanted to turn back, to let the city swallow her whole, to walk until her legs gave out and the haze blurred into nothingness. But the thought was fleeting, a quiet ache buried beneath the sharper pain of reality. With a resigned exhale, she pressed forward, pushing the door open into the familiar yet hollow space that offered little comfort.

The room greeted her with silence - the kind that pressed in from all sides, thick and oppressive. Darkness pooled in the corners, broken only by the soft amber glow spilling in from the open balcony door. The curtain stirred in the night breeze, lifting in slow, ghostly waves, revealing glimpses of the world beyond.

Then, there - just past the threshold - a flicker of light. A cigarette ember flared to life, burning through the shadows. Judy’s breath caught. Valerie was out there, her silhouette a dark outline against the endless sprawl of the city. The glow of the cigarette illuminated her fingers, trembling slightly as she took a slow drag, smoke curling upward, dissipating into the night like a whispered confession.

Judy stood frozen, caught in the quiet intimacy of that sight. She had no fight left in her, no energy to wade through another conversation fraught with half-truths, no desire to rehash the turmoil that had already drained her of everything she had. All she wanted was sleep - the kind that pulled her under completely, that kept her safe from the gnawing dread twisting in her gut. But even that felt like a luxury now, something just out of reach.

She lingered in the doorway, unwilling to disturb whatever fragile balance existed between them. The raw edge of her disappointment cut deeper than before, more precise in its aim. It wasn’t just about Valerie’s choices, her secrets, the widening distance stretching between them. It was about herself. About how easily she had let her guard slip, how willingly she had opened herself up to something that, deep down, she had known would hurt her in the end.

How stupid she had been to think this time would be different.

The weight of that truth settled over her like lead, a suffocating finality she had no strength to fight. She could already see it - herself curled up alone in bed, blinking back tears she had no business shedding, clutching at the remnants of something she couldn’t quite bring herself to let go of. She had poured everything into this relationship, worn her love openly, only to find herself standing at the edge of another heartbreak. A story she knew too well. A cycle she didn’t know how to break.

With a heavy sigh, Judy stepped inside. The door clicked shut behind her, the sound swallowed by the silence. Her bag slid from her shoulder, landing with a dull thud on the floor. She reached for the hem of her jersey, fingers curling into the fabric, only to find it stubbornly plastered to her sweat-damp skin. A sharp sting lanced through her shoulder as she tried again, the motion sending pain rippling down her side in unforgiving waves. She bit down on a curse, frustration mounting, exhaustion gnawing at the edges of her patience.

“Let me help.”

The voice was low, gentle, cutting through the haze like a rope thrown into the water.

Judy stilled. Valerie stood behind her, close enough that her warmth reached across the space between them, a silent balm against the ache settling deep in Judy’s bones. She didn’t move immediately, only waited, offering rather than insisting. When Judy gave the smallest nod, barely more than a tilt of her chin, Valerie stepped forward.

Calloused fingers brushed against her waist, finding the hem of her shirt. Valerie’s touch was slow, deliberate, lifting the fabric inch by inch with a gentleness that made Judy’s breath catch. There was no urgency, no demand. Just patience. A quiet reverence that settled deep beneath Judy’s skin, making something raw and unspoken twist in her chest.

The cool air hit her skin as the jersey finally came free, bringing a fleeting sense of relief, though it did nothing to ease the weight in her limbs. Valerie sank to her knees without a word, her touch careful but sure as she unfastened the button of Judy’s jeans. Each movement was drawn out, measured, as if she was piecing something fragile back together with nothing but her hands. The denim slid down, peeling away with excruciating tenderness, and Judy let herself be guided, too drained to resist, too tired to summon the walls she had spent the past hour rebuilding.

When she was finally settled beneath the sheets, Valerie moved away, her absence leaving a strange hollowness in the space she had occupied. The quiet stretch of the room pressed in around them, thick with words unspoken. Valerie turned toward the small fridge, retrieving an ice pack long past its prime. The soft slosh of water inside was the only sound as she placed it into the freezer, the faint click of the door breaking the silence.

Still, neither of them spoke.

Then, finally, after a long pause, “Did Vik give you painkillers?”

“Yeah,” Judy murmured, her voice barely more than a breath. “Side pocket of my bag.”

Valerie retrieved the bottle, handling it like something delicate. She didn’t meet Judy’s eyes at first, instead reaching for the water on the nightstand. Wordlessly, she passed it over. Judy took it, her fingers trembling slightly as she twisted off the cap. The pill went down in one quick swallow, cool water trailing after it, though it did little to ease the tightness in her throat.

The mattress dipped as Valerie lowered herself onto the edge of the bed. Silence stretched between them again, thick and uncertain. Her hand hovered in mid-air, caught between reaching and retreating. But then, finally, she let it fall - feather-light against Judy’s cheek, a barely-there touch, hesitant. As if bracing for rejection.

But Judy didn’t pull away this time. She met Valerie’s gaze, tired and unguarded, and for a long moment, neither of them moved. The quiet between them felt like a fragile bridge, something that could shatter with a single wrong step.

Then Valerie spoke, voice rough, laced with remorse. “I know I fucked up.”

Judy inhaled sharply but said nothing.

“I’m not proud of it,” Valerie continued, softer now, almost uncertain. “It was like my mind just… shut off. I wasn’t thinking, wasn’t—” She exhaled sharply, dragging a hand through her hair. “I know you’re probably sick of hearing me apologize, but I need you to know… I am sorry, Jude. So fuckin’ sorry. And I’m gonna fix this. Because I’m not ready to let us go.”

Judy swallowed hard, throat tight, but still, the words wouldn’t come.

“I love you,” Valerie murmured, the confession slipping out like a vow. “More than anything in this fucked-up world. Unless you tell me it’s over, unless you tell me there’s no hope, I’m not giving up on us.”

Judy closed her eyes, too drained, too heavy to fight anymore. A small nod, barely more than a tilt of her chin, was all she could offer. It wasn’t an answer. But it wasn’t rejection either.

Valerie’s lips curved into the faintest smile. She exhaled, relief threading through the sound, and let her fingers linger against Judy’s skin for just a moment longer. Then, with one last glance, she stood up.

“Rest now, Jude,” she whispered, stepping back. She hesitated, then lay down on the other bed, the rustle of sheets the only sound between them. “I’ll be right here.”

Chapter Text

Chapter XVIII | Love, not Wrong 
So, please, just hold on to me. I've slayed these demons, they're old to me.

Judy sat hunched over her desk, the dim glow of Night City’s skyline bleeding through the window, casting fractured patterns of neon against the cluttered surface. Her feet rested atop the polished wood, ankles crossed. In her fingers, a pencil hovered with absent familiarity, its tip whispering against the page, dragging out hesitant lines that refused to take the shape she needed them to.

The room bore the marks of a restless mind - half-empty coffee cups ringed with cold bitterness, stacks of files left teetering in precarious towers, crumpled sketches littering the floor like discarded attempts at remembering something long forgotten. Shadows stretched in strange ways along the walls, shifting, moving just out of sight.

Judy’s gaze locked onto the half-formed face in her notebook, her fingers tightening around the pencil as she traced the curve of a jawline, the shape of a nose adorned with freckles, the sharp cut of eyes that stared back at her with an expression she couldn’t quite place. Familiar. Unfamiliar. The contradiction twisted her guts. Her strokes deepened, insistent yet unsteady, as if pressing harder could force recognition to bloom. But the more detail she added, the further the face slipped from her grasp - like a name on the tip of her tongue, like a voice lost in static.

Her concentration faltered, and with a growl of exasperation, she tore the page from her notebook. The rip echoed too loud, reverberating against the walls, stretching impossibly long. She crumpled the paper in her fist and hurled it toward the trash bin in the corner. It landed among dozens of others, a graveyard of failed attempts, of faces that never came out right, of ghosts she could not name.

The silence that followed pressed against her ears. The pencil slipped from her grasp, hitting the desk with a hollow clatter that should have been insignificant, but the sound rang out, stretching, looping back on itself. Judy’s breath hitched.

Something was wrong.

She forced herself to her feet, every movement sluggish, her limbs heavy as if she was moving through mud. A sigh, weary and drawn from the marrow of her bones, slipped past her lips as she drifted through the apartment. Shadows stretched and curled along the walls, familiar yet distorted, as though she was retracing old steps in a place that no longer remembered her.

A faint flicker of light pulsed from the bathroom door, the thin strip of illumination, fractured and stuttering. The sound of running water beckoned her closer - a steady, rhythmic hiss that wrapped around her senses, deceptively soothing. She walked in without hesitation. Steam curled in languid tendrils, clinging to her skin, thick enough to taste. The shower was running, but the tub stood empty. She lingered, her breath shallow, her gaze fixed on the empty space where someone should have been.

A creeping unease coiled in her stomach, but she pushed it aside and turned toward the sink. Her fingers curled around the cold edges of the porcelain basin, knuckles blanching as she braced herself. Instinctively, she reached for the faucet, twisting the handle, expecting the crisp splash of water against her palms.

What spilled forth instead was dark, thick, wrong.

Blood. It gushed in viscous ribbons, pooling in the basin, glistening crimson. A sharp, metallic scent filled the air, burning the back of her throat. Her breath hitched, her stomach twisted violently as she recoiled, droplets speckling her skin in tiny, damning splatters.

Her pulse pounded, erratic, deafening. She squeezed her eyes shut, willing the image to dissolve into something logical, something safe. It didn’t. The blood kept flowing, painting grotesque patterns across the white porcelain.

The shower had gone silent.

Behind her, faint but unmistakable, came a voice. Low. Muffled. Like words carried through water. Distorted syllables tumbled over one another, their meaning lost but their presence unmistakable.

Slowly, painfully, Judy turned her head, each vertebra crackling like a scream in the stillness.

Reed leaned casually against the wall, arms crossed over his chest, a knowing smirk tugging at his lips. His suit was pristine, too crisp, the fabric absorbing the light as if it was cut from the very shadows dancing around them. His aviators gleamed, revealing nothing, reflecting nothing.

Her breath came in sharp, shallow bursts, panic lodging itself between her ribs. She stumbled back as her gaze dropped. Two black plastic bags lay at his feet, their shapes indistinct, but she knew what was inside.

Her stomach lurched, bile rising fast, choking. The room shrank around her, pressing in, walls warping, twisting. The floor tilted. The air turned thick with the scent of copper and something worse - something rancid, something final.

Reed tilted his head, as if amused. “They never had a chance.”

Judy’s hands clenched into fists, nails digging deep into her palms. She couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t look away. A scream clawed at her throat, raw and desperate, but no sound came. Her body betrayed her, frozen in place, trapped. She wanted to run - to turn, to flee, to escape - but her feet remained cemented to the blood-slicked floor.

The first tear slipped down her cheek as her knees gave out. She collapsed,the weight of her fear pressing her into the ground. A sob wrenched itself free as she dragged herself forward, hands scraping against the cracked tiles, inching toward the bags with agonizing slowness.

Reed didn’t move. He simply watched, arms crossed, indifferent, almost bored. As if this was all some inevitability.

Judy’s trembling fingers reached out, brushing against the plastic. The material crinkled under her touch, too thin, too fragile to be holding something so important. The world around her pulsed - walls shifting, ceiling pressing lower, shadows lengthening in time with her ragged breaths.

She swallowed hard, willing her hands to move. The zipper was cold against her fingertips, colder than it should be, burning like ice as she grasped it. She hesitated. Just for a second. Just long enough to know this was a mistake. And then, with a sickening finality, she pulled. The sound of it - metal teeth splitting open, slow and deliberate - ripped through the silence like a blade.

She wished she hadn’t done it. The face within was pale and eerily still, framed by a cascade of short, styled blue hair that Judy would have recognized anywhere.

The blood drained from Judy’s body, leaving only numbness, a hollow ache expanding inside her chest. Her heart slammed against her ribs, too fast, too loud. The strands of Evelyn’s hair fanned out over the plastic, the color vibrant against the waxen pallor of her skin. Her eyes were closed, lashes resting against lifeless cheeks. Serene. Too serene. All wrong.

A memory flashed - Evelyn giggling, her voice laced with mischief, teasing Judy with some offhand comment. Alive. She was supposed to be alive. Laughing, joking, dreaming.

But she wasn’t.

Judy reached out with a trembling hand, fingertips grazing cold, unyielding skin. A choked sob caught in her throat as she recoiled, her vision blurring with tears. She turned toward Reed, searching for something - answers, denial, anything.

“Why?”

The question shattered as it left her lips, breaking apart in the space between them. Reed’s expression didn’t shift. His shadow stretched impossibly long behind him, warping and curling along the walls like a living thing.

“You can’t save them,” he said, voice even, detached. “You can’t save anyone.”

The words burrowed deep, a slow-moving knife twisting in her gut. Judy shook her head, the movement frantic, her hands balling into fists once more. No. No, she refused to believe that. She had to try. She had to—

She lunged for the second bag, tearing at the zipper with wild, frantic movements. The metal bit at her fingers, but she didn’t care, didn’t stop, didn’t breathe. When the bag fell open, her scream tore through the suffocating silence. A sound born of horror too vast to name.

Valerie.

Judy’s body went rigid, the world tilting violently beneath her. Valerie lay there, unmoving, her chest barely rising, the motion so faint it might as well have been a cruel illusion. Her eyes were open, but there was nothing behind them - only endless, vacant white, the gray stripped away, erased.

“No,” she whispered, the word breaking apart in her throat. “No, she’s alive. She’s alive.”

She reached out, gripping Valerie’s wrist, her fingers desperate against cold skin. Waiting. Hoping. Praying for warmth, for a pulse, for anything.

Nothing.

Reed’s voice cut through the haze, soft, but no less brutal. “You’ve been trying,” he murmured, and this time, there was something worse than indifference in his tone. Pity. A dagger wrapped in velvet. “But it doesn’t matter. It never has. And it never will.”

Judy’s hands shot to her ears, her nails biting into her scalp as she squeezed her eyes shut, trying to block him out. “Shut up,” she rasped, but his voice was everywhere now - around her, inside her head, threading itself through every thought, every memory, sinking into the marrow of her bones, into the very fabric of her being.

“You think you can fix things,” he continued, the words inevitable, sinking deeper, deeper, deeper. “But you can’t. You can’t save her. You never could. And deep down, you know it.”

Judy’s hands fell limp, her body folding in on itself like a marionette cut loose from its strings. The walls of her mind warped and twisted, closing in, suffocating. Light bled from the edges of her vision until only darkness remained – darkness, the weight of his words and the faces of the dead.

Evelyn, serene and untouchable, suspended in a moment she would never escape.

Valerie, hollow and lifeless, the fire in her eyes extinguished, leaving only a shell behind.

A broken sob tore through Judy’s throat, her body crumpling under the sheer force of grief. She collapsed, hands clawing at the cold, unyielding ground, nails scraping against fabric of the bags, catching on seams that didn’t exist. But no matter how hard she clung, there was no escape from the crushing reality. The truth surrounded her, suffocated her, until all she could do was weep for the lives she had failed to save.

The world splintered apart. Time lost all meaning, stretched thin between dreams and nightmares, dragging her down into a restraining void. No sound, no light, just the weight of her terror bearing down on her chest, threatening to pull her into oblivion. For one horrifying moment, she drifted - adrift in nothingness, untethered, lost. Then hands, firm and warm, grasped her. An anchor in the storm. A way back. Pulling her toward some semblance of reality.

But reality wasn’t kind. Screams echoed through the void, raw and desperate, growing louder, more frantic. The horror of it sank into Judy’s bones before she even realized the screams were her own. She thrashed, writhing against the unseen force gripping her, panic clawing its way up her throat. Shadows danced at the edges of her vision - memories, ghosts, visions of loss and failure, Valerie’s lifeless body sprawled across the ground. The more she fought, the deeper she sank.

Then the world shifted again. Darkness fractured, bleeding into the weak glow of a bedside lamp. The blurry outlines came into focus - the sheets tangled around her legs, the uneven rhythm of her own breathing, the muted hum of the city outside. Judy blinked, trying to steady herself, but the fear still pulsed in her veins.

Then she saw her. Her sharp features softened in the dim light, gray eyes dark with worry. Concern etched into every line of her face, every furrow of her brow. She didn’t speak, didn’t ask questions - just reached for Judy, pulled her close, and held her. The moment their bodies met, the nightmare loosened its grip.

Judy clung to her, trembling, pressing herself into the warmth of Valerie’s embrace. Her heartbeat was a frantic staccato against Val’s steady presence, her breath still uneven, still coming too fast. But Valerie was solid. Real. A tether to pull her back from the abyss.

“Shh,” Valerie murmured, her lips brushing against Judy’s temple. “It’s okay. You’re safe. Just a nightmare.”

Judy squeezed her eyes shut, pressing her face into the curve of Valerie’s neck, inhaling the familiar scent of her. Tears slipped down her cheeks, mingling with the sweat on her skin, but Valerie didn’t pull away. She held her tighter, whispering reassurances, her hand tracing slow, soothing circles along Judy’s back.

“You were dead, Val,” she choked out, her voice trembling under the weight of it. “Gone. Dead. I couldn’t—there was nothing I could do. You were—” Her voice faltered, the words refusing to come, but the pain remained, lodged deep in her throat like a blade.

Valerie’s voice cut through the panic, steady and unwavering. “It wasn’t real.”

Judy shook her head, unable to pull herself from the spiraling dread. The images were too vivid - Valerie’s lifeless body, Reed’s words, the way everything had unraveled into something unspeakable. “She was there too, but—but it wasn’t supposed to be like that. Everything was wrong. You were d—”

“Judy,” Valerie’s voice was firm but gentle, an anchor against the storm. “I’m here. I’m alive. Look at me.”

Judy couldn’t. Her gaze remained fixed somewhere beyond Valerie, trapped in the phantom echoes of what she had seen. But then, warm fingers tilted her chin upward, guiding her back to the present, back to the sharp clarity of gray eyes staring intently into hers. There was no hesitation in Valerie’s expression, no trace of uncertainty.

A hand closed around her own, guiding it to Valerie’s chest. “Feel that?” Val asked, her voice quieter now, but no less steady. Beneath Judy’s fingertips, the strong, rapid pulse of her girlfriend’s heart thudded against her palm. Solid, real, alive. “I’m here. You’re not gonna get rid of me that easily.”

The moment shattered something inside her. A sob wrenched its way out, raw and unrestrained, her fingers curling against Valerie’s chest as if she could anchor herself there, as if holding on tight enough would keep the nightmare from swallowing her whole. The steady rhythm of Valerie’s heartbeat, the warmth of her skin, the scent of her - Judy clung to it, letting it chase away the shadows still lurking at the edges of her mind.

“Thank you,” she whispered, the words fragile, almost lost in the space between them. Her body sagged, exhaustion overtaking her now that the fear had loosened its grip. Valerie’s arms remained around her, steady, unwavering, offering a quiet kind of safety that Judy wasn’t sure she deserved.

And yet… something still lingered between them. The remnants of their earlier fight, the impulsive act, venomous word, it all still burned just beneath the surface. The space between them, though physically closed, still felt like a chasm neither of them had yet crossed. Judy wanted to close the last of the distance, to bury herself in Valerie’s warmth, to kiss her, to pretend that none of it mattered. It did. But she was too drained, too raw to face it now.

The silence between them stretched, thick but not suffocating, until Valerie finally broke it. “I know you’re still upset with me,” she said, her voice careful, hesitant in a way that made Judy’s chest ache. “I can move to the other bed if you want. I just… I just needed to make sure you’re okay.”

Judy hesitated. Her thoughts were tangled, exhaustion making them heavier than they should be. But she knew, deep down, that she didn’t want Valerie to go.

“No. Stay.”

The words were soft, almost fragile. She wasn’t ready to talk about everything, to sift through the wreckage of their fight. But she couldn’t bear to be alone either. Slowly, she reached for Valerie, pulling her closer until her head found its place against her shoulder - a space that had always felt like it was meant for her. Valerie adjusted instinctively, careful of her injuries, her touch light but steady. A quiet breath escaped Judy as she felt the familiar warmth surround her, as Valerie pressed a soft, grounding kiss to the top of her head.

“You want to talk about it?” Valerie murmured, her fingers threading gently through Judy’s damp hair, smoothing it back with slow, rhythmic strokes. “Sometimes it helps, you know—figuring out what it means. Always helped me.”

Judy swallowed, her throat tight, her breath catching for a moment. “I already know what it means,” she muttered, her voice rough, frayed at the edges. “It’s obvious.”

“Then tell me,” Valerie said, coaxing but not pushing, the softness of her voice like a lifeline, something Judy could hold onto if she wanted. She didn’t press, didn’t demand. She simply waited, her touch unwavering, patient.

Judy’s chest ached. The words clawed their way up before she could stop them. “You’re going to die,” she blurted, the admission splitting through the quiet like a blade. Her voice cracked, raw and exposed. “And I won’t be able to save you. It’s… it’s happening again. Just like before, when I couldn’t—”

She stopped, the rest of the sentence sticking in her throat, choking her.

The silence that followed was heavy, charged with painful memories. Valerie said nothing, just kept stroking her hair. She didn’t offer meaningless reassurances, didn’t try to tell Judy it was alright. Maybe she knew that would be a lie. She was waiting, not for answers but for whatever Judy felt ready to share.

Judy squeezed her eyes shut, her fingers clenching the fabric of Valerie’s t-shirt like she could anchor herself there, keep herself from unraveling completely.

Valerie saw her. Always had. And that was the problem, wasn’t it? Judy had let her in - let her past the walls, past the barbed wire, let her in deep enough to touch the wounds that wasn’t supposed to be healed. Let her cure these. But not all of them. There was one thing she had never said, never dared to speak aloud.

She had never told Valerie about Evelyn. Maybe she should. Maybe she owed her that much. Because this wasn’t just about the nightmare, wasn’t just about her fear of losing Valerie. It was about all the names etched into her heart, all the people she had loved and lost, one by one, until she stopped letting herself believe she could keep anyone at all.

Judy couldn’t afford to lose Val, not like she had lost Evelyn. She wouldn’t let that happen. She wouldn’t let history to repeat itself.

Judy’s voice, when it came again, was quieter but no less certain, each word sharp with the weight of the truth she had tried so hard to avoid. “You can’t make me go through that again, Val. You just… can’t.” She lifted her gaze, fierce despite the fear behind it. “This plan has to work. The surgery has to work. You have to make it out of this. I can’t… I won’t survive losing you.”

Valerie held her gaze, unflinching, her expression unreadable. Then, slowly, she leaned in, pressing her forehead against Judy’s, her breath warm, steady. “I’m not going anywhere,” she murmured.

Judy wanted to believe her. God, she wanted to. But she knew better than to trust in easy promises.

She shifted, pushing herself up slightly, the sheets slipping down her bare shoulders. The air in the room was still warm, but a chill had settled in her bones, one she couldn’t shake. With a slow, deliberate motion, she ran a hand through her damp hair, pushing it away from her face. The weight in her chest felt heavier now, something she had carried for years but never dared to set down.

She hesitated, then lifted her arm, exposing the ink etched into her skin. The words were faint in the low light, but she didn’t need to see them to know they were there. “This tattoo,” she murmured, tracing the delicate script with the tips of her fingers. “There was nothing to fear, nothing to doubt.” A quiet pause stretched between them before she continued, her voice soft, distant. “That song… I played it on repeat when my best friend died.”

Valerie stilled beside her. The shift was subtle - just the soft exhale of breath, the way her body leaned in, the quiet understanding that settled between them like a shared secret. Then, with a gentleness that made Judy’s throat tighten, Valerie cupped her cheek, her thumb brushing along the curve of her jaw.

“What was her name?” she asked, her voice low, as though handling something fragile.

Judy swallowed against the ache rising in her throat. “Evie.” Just saying it felt like ripping open a wound that had never really healed, like bleeding out all over again. The sound of Evelyn’s name, spoken aloud, made the air feel heavier, pressing down on her chest. She turned her face into the warmth of Valerie’s neck, seeking something that would calm her. But it was no use.

“She—” Judy’s voice wavered. “She killed herself.” The words felt jagged, like broken glass in her mouth. Her muscles tensed, her body instinctively recoiling from the memory, but there was no outrunning it. “While I was supposed to be watching over her.”

Valerie’s arms tightened around her. Judy let out a sharp, bitter breath.

“It was my fault.” The words came out raw, almost a snarl, but beneath them was something far more fragile, something cracked and breaking apart. Her vision blurred, and she forced herself to keep talking, to keep going before she lost the nerve. “We went to that club because I wanted to. It was my fuckin’ idea.”

Valerie didn’t argue. She just held her, patient, steady.

Judy inhaled sharply. “After a couple of hours, I left her there. Alone. Because Maiko called, and like a fuckin’ idiot, I ran off. Didn’t even think twice.” Her nails dug into Valerie’s skin as she clenched her hands into fists. “The next morning, I tried calling her, but she didn’t answer. So, I went back to the club—I went back and found her in the alley behind it.”

The silence that followed was suffocating. Judy could hear her own breathing, uneven and strained, the way her pulse pounded in her ears.

“She’d been raped,” Judy whispered, the words hollow, lifeless. “Beaten. She didn’t even recognize me at first.” She blinked hard, forcing herself to stay in the present, but the memory was relentless. “I took her home. Cleaned her up. Tried to be there for her, but she just—she just cried. The whole time. Wouldn’t stop. I thought if she just got through the night, if she just slept it off, she’d be—.” A sharp, humorless laugh left her lips. “I actually believed that. God, I was so fucking stupid.”

She squeezed her eyes shut. “I went out for food. Took longer than I should’ve, ‘cause I was on the phone with Maiko, finally telling her to fuck off. And when I came back—” Her voice cracked. She couldn’t stop the tremor in her hands, the way they fisted into Valerie’s shirt, as if she could anchor herself there. “She’d… slit her wrists. In my bathtub. Just—” Her breath hitched. “Just gave up. Decided it was too much.”

Valerie said nothing, just pulled her closer, her lips brushing against the tear-streaked skin of Judy’s temple. It was a quiet kind of comfort, no empty reassurances, no meaningless words, just presence. Constant, unyielding. But no matter how warm Valerie's embrace was, Judy couldn’t shake the cold, hard truth she carried within her - this was her fault. All of it. And she would have to live with that guilt for the rest of her life.

Judy’s voice hardened as she continued, a razor’s edge of anger creeping in. “I called the police eventually. And those bastards—” she spat the word, venom curling around it, “—they made jokes. Fucking laughed as they zipped her up like she was trash.” She shook her head, a bitter laugh scraping its way out of her throat. “And me? I just stood there. Empty. Like I’d already burned out everything inside me long before they arrived.”

Valerie’s fingers traced over hers, offering warmth, a reminder that she wasn’t alone, not in this moment.

“Did they ever…?” Valerie started, her voice hesitant, careful.

Judy cut her off. “No.” Her jaw tightened. “Of course not. Case got buried so fast it might as well have never existed. They didn’t even try. This is Night City—no one gives a shit about people like her. She was an escort, and to them, that meant she didn’t matter. That she asked for it.” A cold, hollow feeling settled deep in her gut. “But I knew. I knew it wasn’t some client. She had a closed list. And it was her fucking day off.”

Valerie’s grip on her hand tightened. “Did you try to find out?”

Judy hesitated, then, finally, admitted, “No.”

The weariness settled over her then, not from the previous night's chaos, her injuries, or even the nightmare that had wrenched her from sleep. No, it was the memories - the relentless, unforgiving sting of them - that drained her. Retelling the story made her feel raw and undone, like reopening a wound that had barely scabbed over in the years since it happened.

She exhaled, slow and shaky. “That night, I scrubbed the bathroom clean. Couldn’t stand the sight of it. Didn’t sleep. Couldn’t close my eyes without seeing red. So instead, I just sat in my living room, chain-smoking, drinking whiskey, waiting for the sun to come up. I didn’t show up to training the next day. Rita got worried when I didn’t answer her calls. She came over, saw the state I was in, and didn’t ask questions. She just packed my bags and moved me into her apartment.”

She let the silence stretch for a moment before she continued, softer now, more fragile. “I never went back, not really. Except once, before we left for Pittsburgh. Grabbed what was left of my shit, locked the door, and walked away.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “But Evie… she’s still with me. Always is. And the guilt—” Her breath shuddered. “The guilt doesn’t go away. It’s like a shadow. Just when you think you’ve outpaced it, it’s right there, waiting for you to slip.”

“It wasn’t your fault, Judy.” Valerie’s voice cut through the quiet, soft yet firm.

Judy squeezed her eyes shut, shaking her head as if she could physically dislodge the truth that had burrowed deep inside her. “It was,” she whispered, voice hoarse, raw. “I shouldn’t have answered Maiko’s call. I shouldn’t have left her there. I should’ve checked on her sooner. I should’ve never—” Her voice cracked, and she swallowed hard. “—never left the apartment.”

Each word was a blade, slicing through the fragile veneer of control she had left. Valerie didn’t look away, didn’t waver.

“It wasn’t your fault.”

The words grated against her, sparking something hot and angry in the pit of her stomach. Valerie didn’t understand. No one did. No one could. She knew it was her fault - no amount of comforting words could convince her otherwise.

“Stop it, Val,” she warned, pushing herself upright. “It was—”

“No.” Valerie’s voice was steel now, her gray eyes fixed, focused on her. “You could’ve ended up just like her if you’d stayed. And you couldn’t have been there every second, Judy. You couldn’t have saved her from everything, no matter how much you wanted to. If she was in that much pain…” Valerie hesitated, but held her ground. “She would’ve found a way, regardless. You’re not—””

“I said stop!”

The words burst from her like an explosion. Without thinking, Judy’s fists came down against Valerie’s chest, her strikes fueled not by malice, but by anguish, by desperation. It wasn’t meant to hurt, only to release, to push the unbearable weight from her shoulders.

Valerie didn’t flinch. She didn’t move away or block the blows. She just let Judy pour it all out, taking it, absorbing it, until the fight drained from Judy entirely. And then she moved. Not away, not in retreat, but forward - wrapping Judy up in her arms, pulling her in, locking her in place.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Valerie murmured, her breath warm against Judy’s ear. “I’m here, Jude. No matter what. But you’re not doing this to yourself. I’m not gonna let you. It wasn’t your fault, and if—if something happens to me, it wouldn’t be your fault neither.”

Judy’s fists pounded against Valerie’s chest again, weaker this time, her body betraying her. The anger dissolved into something more fragile, something devastating. She choked on a sob, the fight leaving her in shuddering waves.

“Fuck you, Val,” she gasped, her voice breaking apart. “It was my fault. Everything is always my fault. I’m nothing. I can’t help anyone. I’m useless… I’m fucking useless. I’m—”

Her words disintegrated, heaving sobs as she collapsed against Valerie’s shoulder, her whole body was shaking.

“You’re not nothing,” Valerie whispered. “And you’re not alone. Not anymore.”

She didn’t let go. She held Judy tighter as if to keep her from crumbling completely, her hands moving in slow, soothing circles over her back, the touch steady, deliberate. There was no pity in it, only presence. Judy’s fists, once tense and trembling, now stilled. Her fingers curled weakly against Valerie’s chest, gripping the fabric of her shirt like a lifeline. Her tears soaked into the material, darkening the fabric, but Valerie didn’t move away. She collapsed against her, but Val didn’t even flinch, didn’t let go, just held her.

“You’re everything to me,” Valerie murmured. The words hung in the air, tender yet unyielding, as if daring Judy to believe them.

Judy’s breath hitched, uneven, and she forced herself to look up, to meet Valerie’s gaze. There was no doubt there, no hesitation. Just love - fierce, untiring, persistent. Something cracked inside her, and before she could stop herself, she was kissing Valerie. Hard, desperate. A collision of sorrow and need, a plea for solace. Valerie responded in kind, her hands cradling Judy’s face, as if afraid she might disappear. The kiss wasn’t careful, wasn’t soft - it was survival. It felt consuming, as if in this kiss they both could drown out the pain, the fear, the unspoken horrors that haunted them.

When they broke apart, Judy let herself sink back into Valerie’s embrace, her body exhausted, drained. But the fear still lingered, coiled in the pit of her stomach like a living thing.

Her fingers moved on their own accord, tracing the jagged scar on Valerie’s ribcage, feeling the history of violence carved into her girlfriend’s skin. Her touch was reverent, fearful, as though she feared reopening the wound with her carelessness. It was a reminder. A reminder of how close she had come to losing her even before they met, of how fragile everything was.

“I’m scared,” she whispered. It was barely a sound, but in the stillness, it felt deafening. “I’m scared I’ll fail again… that I’ll lose you too. And I can’t—”

“You won’t lose me.”

Judy drifted toward awareness, her mind rising from the depths of sleep, drawn by a sound - soft, indistinct, like a whisper dissipating into the hush of dawn. The words, whatever they had been, slipped away before she could grasp them, leaving only the sensation of warmth fading beside her. Her lashes fluttered, heavy with lingering dreams, just in time to catch a fleeting glimpse of Valerie’s silhouette disappearing through the door. The quiet click of it closing barely disturbed the stillness of the room.

A fog of disorientation clung to her as she blinked, the dim world around her sharpening in slow increments. Outside, the sky hovered in that fragile space between night and morning, the first tentative rays of sunlight spilling through the curtains, painting the walls in soft, muted gold. The clock on the nightstand read a little after four - the hour when the city seemed to hold its breath, suspended in a moment of quiet that felt both comforting and eerie.

Judy moved instinctively, pushing herself up from the bed, but her body quickly reminded her of its fragility. A sharp, insistent pain flared along her side, a reminder of the bruises she carried. She sucked in a breath, teeth clenching as her fingers pressed against the sore spot, as if her touch alone could somehow soothe the throbbing ache. It was a little better than the day before, but still strong enough to slow her down.

Painkillers. She needed those.

She reached for the small bottle on the nightstand, her fingers twisting off the cap with the ease of routine. She shook out a pill, swallowing it dry, then swung her legs over the edge of the mattress. The cool air ghosted over her skin, a stark contrast to the heat radiating from her aching side. Moving carefully, she rose to her feet, each step deliberate, unwilling to aggravate her body’s protests any further.

The mini-fridge let out a faint hum as she pulled it open, and a wave of cold air rushed out, a sharp but welcome relief. Judy retrieved an ice pack, and pressed it to her shoulder, exhaling as the chill seeped through her skin, dulling the pain, offering a brief moment of comfort.

The memories of the day before crept back, threading through the fog of her waking thoughts. The turmoil on the field still echoed in her mind - the hit, the sharp words, Valerie’s recklessness. That pain had been different from the one in her body - deeper, more insidious. But Val had made it right, had reached for her with steady hands and quiet apologies, had whispered words that softened the worst of it, that dissolved most of that anger. They had found their way back to each other, the raw edges smoothing just enough for Judy to believe that, despite everything, they would be okay. Val loved her. And a mistake, even one that cut deep, didn’t mean the end. They could move past it. She knew that now.

But then there had been the nightmare, lingering in the shadows of her mind even now. Evie’s face, the weight of past choices pressing against her chest like a phantom she could not shake. Valerie had been there, had held her, had whispered reassurances that Judy had almost believed. Guilt was a stubborn thing though, unwilling to loosen its grip so easily. Judy knew her part in what had happened, knew the stain it left on her soul.

And yet, Valerie’s presence, her words had shifted something, just slightly. Maybe she was right - maybe it was time to stop punishing herself, to let go of the weight she had carried for too long. One day, perhaps, she would. But not today. Today, the guilt was still there, a familiar companion that, while perhaps diminished, had not yet left her side.

She sighed, rubbing at her temple as weariness settled deep in her bones. The ice pack was beginning to numb her skin, but she barely noticed. Her eyes drifted toward the door Valerie had slipped through, and with it came a sudden, unwelcome tightness in her chest. Where had she gone at this hour? The whisper that had stirred her awake replayed in her mind, tugging at the edges of her consciousness. There had been something urgent in Valerie’s voice, something quiet but insistent. Judy hadn’t grasped the words, but the feeling remained, lingering like an unfinished thought.

Outside, the city began its slow stretch into morning, golden light unfurling across the skyline. It should have been beautiful, a promise of a new day, but Judy found no comfort in it. The bed behind her was still warm, the sheets rumpled, inviting. But sleep would not return to her now. Her mind was too restless, her heart too tangled with unease.

The rhythmic thud of Judy’s sneakers against the treadmill was the only sound that mattered. It merged seamlessly with the steady beat of the music in her ears, each pulse of bass syncing with the cadence of her steps. The world outside blurred into irrelevance - nothing but her breath, the ache in her legs, the numbers flickering across the screen. She chased that feeling, the way her muscles ached in distraction, drowning out the static in her mind.

Vik had told her to take it easy. Let herself heal. She knew he was right - of course he was - but that didn’t mean she was about to listen. Running, training, pushing her limits until exhaustion numbed everything else - that was the only thing that ever really worked. That was her therapy.

She barely noticed when ten miles ticked past on the treadmill’s display. She felt the soreness in her side, the burn in her muscles. Maybe Vik had a point.

Slowing to a walk, she let her body adjust, welcomed the throbbing in her calves, the way her breath came in steady, measured pulls. The hum of the machine softened beneath her as she inhaled deeply, savoring a rare, fleeting moment of clarity in its wake.

Then, as if conjured from thin air, Panam materialized in front of her. Judy startled so hard she nearly lost her footing, her balance wavering as the treadmill belt kept moving beneath her. Before she could so much as curse, a strong hand caught her arm, steadying her before she could crash to the floor.

Judy yanked her headphones out, heart still hammering against her ribs - though whether from the run or the shock, she wasn’t sure. She gripped the treadmill rails, breathing hard. "Pan! What the hell? You tryin’ to kill me?"

Panam grinned, the corners of her eyes crinkling in amusement. "Could say the same to you. Ten miles, Alvy? What, are you trying to run away from something or just testing how much you can piss Vik off?"

Judy shook her head, still catching her breath, the remnants of adrenaline tapering into a sheepish exhale. "Maybe both." With a wince, she stepped off the treadmill, her legs protesting the sudden change in pace. "What are you even doin’ here? Sneakin’ up on people now?"

Panam leaned casually against the side of the treadmill, arms crossed over her chest, wearing that easy confidence like a second skin. "Came lookin’ for you," she said simply. "Stopped by your place—no one home. Figured I’d find you here, running yourself into the ground as usual."

There was an edge of amusement to her words, but the way her sharp gaze flickered over Judy’s face spoke of something closer to concern.

"You okay?"

Judy met her eyes and saw the weight behind the question. Panam wasn’t asking just to ask. She knew.

Judy inhaled deeply, rolling her shoulders back, trying to shake off whatever was written across her face. "Yeah," she said, though her voice fluttered, betraying her. "Just needed to clear my head, y’know?"

Panam’s eyes narrowed slightly, but she didn’t press - at least not yet. As Judy moved away from the treadmill, weaving through the gym’s scattered equipment toward the weightlifting section, Panam fell in step beside her. They settled on a bench near the barbells, the silence between them thick but not uncomfortable, the hum of the air conditioning the only sound filling the space.

"Trouble in paradise?"

"What?" Judy responded absently, dragging a towel across the back of her neck, more to stall than anything else.

Panam sighed, shaking her head with a knowing smirk. "Alvy, we’ve known each other a while now, played a few tournaments together. I’m not blind. I’ve seen the way you look at her. You’re falling for her, and it’s hitting you hard, isn’t it?"

Judy’s breath hitched, and she hated how easily Panam cut through her defenses. She dropped her gaze, staring at the scuffed floor beneath their feet, her fingers twisting the edge of her towel. A slow, reluctant nod was all she could muster.

Panam didn’t gloat. Didn’t tease. Instead, she leaned forward, forearms braced on her knees. "That’s actually why I’m here," she admitted after a loaded pause. "I’ve learned something about our rookie, and I need to warn you. There’s something you need to see. Something you might not like."

Judy felt it then - that cold, creeping sensation sliding down her spine, curling in the pit of her stomach. During the past few weeks, Valerie had peeled back layers of herself, revealing glimpses of a past tangled in shadows. And Judy had wanted to believe her when she said she laid it all bare. No more lies. She had forgiven the secrets, the half-truths, the misguided attempts to shield her from the chaos. She believed her. Love made fools of even the most cautious hearts, and against all logic, she had surrendered to it - trusting Valerie’s quiet assurances, her warmth, the way she fit so perfectly in the spaces Judy hadn’t even realized were empty.

But now, doubt gnawed at the edges of that fragile trust, sharpening its teeth. If there was more - another secret, another lie - Judy wasn’t sure she could stomach it.

"Okay," she forced the word out, though her voice was tight, threaded with quiet dread. "Show me."

Panam pulled out her phone, her fingers moving swiftly over the screen. A moment later, she turned it toward Judy. The video played. Two figures emerged from an elevator into an opulent hotel lobby, their guns raised. Suddenly, the air around them erupted into anarchy - flying bullets, flashes cutting through the darkness. The woman fired back, moving with ruthless efficiency, supporting an injured man beside her. Despite the weight she carried, her movements were precise, practiced. Deadly.

Then the footage cut to black.

Judy’s pulse thundered in her ears, drowning out the hum of the gym, the sound of Panam shifting beside her. Her fingers curled around the edge of the bench, knuckles going white.

"What am I looking at?" she asked, but the question was hollow. She already knew. Even with their faces blurred, she knew. The injured man – it must have been Jackie. The woman moving through the fray like a ghost - Valerie. This was the infamous job that had spiraled out of control, the one that had set Val on the path she was still trying to navigate. It was the moment when the nightmare truly began.

Panam's voice was measured, careful. "I’m sure you’ve heard about the heist at Konpeki Plaza. The night Soburo Arasaka was killed."

Judy nodded slowly, her expression carefully blank.

Panam studied her, then continued. "When the news broke, the media blamed Militech. Militech denied it, but suddenly all ties between them and Arasaka were severed. The story disappeared almost overnight. I talked to a few contacts from my past, friends from my clan. The real story? It wasn’t Militech. It was a group of mercs, infiltrating the penthouse for some kind of prototype tech. Soburo’s death was just... collateral."

Judy forced herself to stay still, to breathe evenly. Valerie had already told her this - most of it, at least. But Panam couldn’t possibly know the whole story, could she?

Then, Panam paused the video and zoomed in. Her finger tapped the screen.

"You recognize this tattoo, don’t you?"

Judy’s stomach twisted. There, beneath the torn sleeve of the woman’s jacket, was the unmistakable curl of ink - light blue, delicate flower etched into skin Judy had traced with her own fingers more times than she could count.

She swallowed hard. "I don’t think there’s only one person in the world who—"

Panam chuckled softly, shaking her head. "Alvy, come on. You saw how she moved in that video. That’s Bakker and we both know it. The real question is—why are you covering for her?"

Judy’s gaze fell to the floor, her expression blank, as if she was searching for an answer deep within herself. She couldn’t explain why she still clung to the idea of a future with Valerie, even after all the pain and chaos of the past weeks. She didn’t understand why she was so irresistibly drawn to the blue-haired woman, why every fiber of her being screamed to protect her, to shield her from the cruelty of the world. Maybe because she was madly, obsessively even, in love with her. The pull was just too strong.

She hadn’t paid attention to the signs, the glaring red flags waving in her periphery. She had ignored them all, rushing headlong into Valerie’s orbit, her fears trailing like loose threads she didn’t dare pull. The gray of Valerie’s eyes had a way of eclipsing the crimson warnings of Judy’s own apprehensions, drawing her deeper into something she couldn’t fully name.

People weren’t supposed to feel this way - weren’t supposed to dive headfirst into love with no regard for the rocks below. And yet, Judy couldn’t help herself.

Valerie felt like air, like gravity, like some omnipresent force she couldn’t escape even if she tried. Her life had reshaped itself around her, orbiting Valerie’s presence like a planet caught in an irreversible pull. The fear, though, it never left. It whispered in the quiet moments, in the gaps between kisses, in the silences that stretched too long. It told her this was too much, too fast, too impossible. Love this big, this consuming, couldn’t last.

It was in her bones, that ache - the way they felt misplaced, as if they were meant to be somewhere else. As if they belonged to Valerie, scattered in pieces across the spaces between them. Her heart felt both like it was collapsing in on itself and exploding outward, a cascade of particles swept away by some unseen tide that led only to Valerie.

That was the fear that gnawed at her more than any secret could. It wasn’t the mess or the lies that scared Judy most. It was the must - the aching, desperate need that had taken root in her chest. She was terrified that if the time ever came when they had to separate, it wouldn’t just break her. It would split her clean in half, leaving her as nothing but fragments of the person she’d been before Valerie crashed into her life.

And that was the truth. But she couldn’t possibly explain it to Panam. Not now, not ever.

The façade she’d been holding onto so desperately began to crumble. The weight of her emotions, held back for too long, came crashing down with a force she couldn’t control. Judy’s shoulders shook as she buried her face in her hands, her sobs tearing through her with a raw intensity. She didn’t even know what she was crying for - the overwhelming love she felt, the fear, the uncertainty, or the sheer helplessness of it all. It didn’t really matter.

Panam exhaled, a slow, measured breath that seemed to carry the weight of realization with it. The sharpness in her eyes softened, replaced by something closer to sorrow, understanding. Without hesitation, she reached for Judy, drawing her in, arms wrapping around her with an unspoken promise of solace.

“Fuck, Alvy,” the raven-haired woman murmured, voice rough with something between frustration and concern, the words ghosting against Judy’s damp cheek. “I didn’t realize you were in this deep.”

Judy couldn’t speak. Panic had her in its grip, sinking its claws deep into her chest, turning her limbs heavy and unresponsive. The walls felt like they were inching closer, the fluorescent lights too harsh, the smell of sweat and metal suffocating. But Panam was there, steady, comforting her - a lifeline in the riptide of dread threatening to pull Judy under.

“It’s okay,” she whispered, her fingers threading through Judy’s hair in slow, soothing strokes. “You hear me? It’s okay. You’re okay.”

But it wasn’t. It wasn’t okay at all, and the certainty of that made her ribs feel like they were caving in.

“I ju—just… I can’t—” Judy’s voice cracked on the words, her throat raw, the sobs still clinging to the edges of her breath. “I can’t, Pan.”

Panam sighed again, pulling back just enough to search Judy’s face. “Look,” she started carefully, “you were part of the Claws back in the old, dark days. You know the kind of people who swim in those waters. Stout—she doesn’t even try to hide she’s in bed with Militech, but this?” Panam’s brow furrowed. “This isn’t just shady, Judy. Bakker’s dangerous. And I’m scared for you. I didn’t want you tangled up in this just ‘cause you’re sleeping with her, not knowing what you were walking into. But… well, it seems like you already knew.” She hesitated, then added, “You told me once you were done mixing business and pleasure. But here you are. What changed?”

The words hit harder than they should have. Judy had prided herself on keeping her distance, keeping things simple. She had watched too many teammates fall into the easy trap of locker-room hookups, had sworn to herself she wouldn’t be one of them.

But this - her relationship with Valerie - was different. It had never been simple. From the moment she had met her, everything had been a slow, inevitable unraveling, a pull too strong to fight. She had been trapped in quicksand - the harder she tried to retreat, the deeper she sank. And she hadn’t even realized it until she was already too far gone.

“It’s not a fling, Pan,” she blurted, the confession slipping past her throat before she could stop it.

Panam let out a breathy laugh, shaking her head, a sad smile tugging at the corner of her lips. “Oh, kid,” she muttered, almost fondly. “You’re a fuckin’ idiot.”

Judy huffed out something between a laugh and a sob, swiping at her damp cheeks. “Yeah,” she admitted, voice hoarse. “I know.”

Panam’s smile faded, replaced with something more serious, more cautious. “It’s okay, love makes people do stupid things,” she said. “Just… be careful, ‘kay? Don’t get yourself caught up in something you can’t walk away from. She seems like she’s already knee-deep in some serious shit, and I don’t want you getting dragged down with her.”

Judy nodded, but the truth sat heavy in her gut. She was already in it, tangled in Valerie’s world, caught in the storm that Val had tried - so desperately - to shield her from. Judy had tried to keep her distance. She had tried to be careful. But Valerie Bakker had a way of pulling her in, and now, there was no escaping it. She’d follow her into the fire if she had to.

“And I’m guessin’ no one else knows about this?”

Judy swallowed and shook her head.

Panam exhaled, nodding as if that was the answer she had expected. “I won’t say anything,” she promised. “But… if you ever need to talk, you know where to find me. I’m here for you, Alvy.”

The words settled something in Judy. A reminder that, no matter how tangled things got, she wasn’t entirely alone.

“Thanks,” she whispered, her voice small but full of meaning.

Panam bumped their shoulders together lightly, offering a grin that was half-reassurance, half-mischief. “C’mon,” she said. “How about we get out of here and grab some breakfast? I think you need it more than I do.”

The scent of freshly brewed coffee thickened in the air as Judy and Panam strolled down the corridor, their footsteps muted against the polished wood paneling. The muffled clatter of cutlery and the low hum of conversation drifted from the cafeteria ahead, the early morning bustle of their teammates filling the space with a familiar, easy rhythm.

Panam smirked, nudging Judy’s shoulder. “Wonder if Carol’s gonna show up,” she said, a knowing lilt in her voice. “She’s not handling the food too good. That seafood paella before the match? Big mistake. Lucky she was on the bench.”

Judy winced. “Shit. She okay?”

“She’s alive,” Panam muttered. “Can’t say the same for our bathroom this morning.”

Judy barked a laugh. “Jesus, Panam—”

Before she could finish, a sharp chime cut through the air. Judy’s hand moved on instinct, slipping into her pocket and fishing out her phone. One unread message flashed across the screen.

SOS. Basketball court.

Her feet stopped before her brain caught up. The words burned into her vision, pulsing with urgency, heavy with something unspoken. Her breath stalled, heartbeat hammering against her ribs.

Panam, already a step ahead, turned back when she noticed Judy wasn’t beside her. “Alvy?”

Judy forced her expression into something neutral, but the tension coiled in her jaw betrayed her. “Uh—” she fumbled for an excuse, her fingers tightening around the phone. “Forgot something in the room. Gotta go grab it.”

Panam’s gaze narrowed, her arms crossing over her chest. “Now?”

“Yeah. You go ahead. Order me a coffee or something.”

“Judy—”

But Judy wasn’t listening. She was already moving, shoving the phone back into her pocket, her pulse thrumming in her ears. She didn’t wait for Panam to press further, didn’t spare another glance toward the cafeteria doors. The hotel exit loomed ahead, and she sprinted toward it, her sneakers striking the polished floor in quick, urgent beats. She didn’t stop to think, didn’t second-guess the overwhelming sense of dread tightening in her chest.

All she knew was that Valerie needed her.

And she had to get there. Now.

Chapter Text

Chapter XIX | Fable
Why does my skin start to burn?

The morning air carried the tang of the ocean, but beneath it lurked the stale scent of neglect - of rusted metal, of salt-worn concrete, of a place left behind. Judy barely registered any of it. Her breath was uneven, too shallow, her pulse hammering as her eyes darted over the cracked asphalt, the peeling graffiti-splashed walls, the chain-link fence barely holding itself together. The empty court stretched before her like an abandoned stage, the faded lines and sagging hoops ghosts of a time when this place had been alive.

Now, it felt more like a cage. The bleachers stood silent, eerie in the pale morning light. It all looked different now, stripped of the cover of night. Everything was too stark, too exposed.

Judy swallowed hard, her throat burning as she forced out the only name that mattered.

“Val!”

The word rang out, sharp against the stillness. It echoed off the walls, lost in the wind. No answer.

A sick knot twisted in her stomach. She took a step forward. Then another. And another.

The wind rattled the fence, a seagull shrieked overhead - too loud. Every sound was an assault, cutting through the silence, but none of them were the one she needed. None of them were Valerie’s.

Then she saw her.

Slumped against the half-wall, her body sprawled unnaturally, one leg bent at an odd angle, the other stretched out. Her head lolled back against the concrete, her chin tipped slightly to the side. A thin, dark trail of blood streaked from her nose, cutting a cruel contrast against skin that looked too pale, too clammy. Her hair - usually a chaotic mess that somehow still screamed life - hung damp and disheveled, plastered to her forehead.

Judy’s breath stopped. A jolt of pure, electric terror rooted her in place. For half a second, her mind went blank. No thoughts. No words. Just a vast, bone-deep panic.

Then her body moved before she could think. She ran. As fast as she could.

“Valerie!”

The name tore from her throat, cracked and raw, as she dropped to her knees, her hands flying to touch, to shake, to confirm - was she still breathing? Was she still alive?

Valerie stirred at the contact, a shuddering inhale followed by a sharp flinch as pain registered in her body. Her eyelids fluttered, struggling to lift. Confusion flickered behind her unfocused gaze as she blinked up at Judy, sluggish, like she wasn’t sure if she was real.

“…Judy?” Her voice was barely there, sandpaper-rough. “Why are you… here?”

Judy let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding - a shaky exhale that was almost a sob.

“You texted me, you fuckin’ idiot,” she bit out, her voice caught between fury and terror, between relief and the raw, open wound of almost losing her.

Valerie’s lips parted slightly, her gaze flickering like she was trying to put something together, but the moment was slipping away from her. Her brow furrowed, her head tilting just slightly before she rasped, “What time is it?”

Judy blinked. The question hit wrong, out of place, a jagged edge in an already fractured moment.

“What?” she asked, her thoughts scrambling. Had Valerie been hit in the head? Was she concussed? She forced herself to glance away, scanning the court, searching for signs of a struggle, for an attacker lurking nearby, for anything that made sense of this. But all she found was silence. The situation felt like a puzzle missing too many pieces.

Valerie shifted against the rough concrete, her breath still uneven, a raw, fractured sound in the quiet. Her fingers twitched restlessly, curling against the ground as if trying to find something solid. “The time, Jude,” she said, her tone sharper now. “What’s the time?”

Judy hesitated. “It’s after seven…”

“Fuck,” Val exhaled, a bitter edge curling the word. Her jaw clenched, frustration overtaking the lingering haze in her gaze. With a slow, unsteady motion, she pushed herself up against the wall, her body protesting with every inch gained. Instinctively, Judy reached out, her fingers brushing against her girlfriend’s arm to steady her - but Valerie wasn’t looking at her anymore. Her head snapped to the right, her entire body tensing like a coiled wire. Her eyes locked onto something in the distance. Judy followed her gaze, pulse ticking faster - but there was nothing. Nothing but the empty expanse of the court, shadows creeping in as daylight thinned.

Then Valerie spoke again. “What the fuck did you do?”

The words were low, almost a whisper, but laced with disbelief. Anger. A demand directed at someone who wasn’t there.

Judy’s breath hitched, confusion knotting in her chest. “Val?”

No response. Valerie remained fixed on whatever invisible specter she saw, her face dark with something unreadable.

“I know what I tried was stupid,” she muttered, her voice carrying that familiar irritation, like she was arguing with someone who just wouldn’t listen. “But I had to. Stop—just fuckin’ stop. You can lecture me later. I just need to know what you did… Stop with this fuckin’ bullshit—”

And then it hit Judy like a cold wave, seeping into her skin. She wasn’t talking to her.

Judy’s fingers tightened. “Valerie.” She forced the word out, gentle but urgent, as she lifted a hand, sliding it beneath Valerie’s chin. Her fingers pressed just enough to turn her face, to pull her back, to force her to look at her instead of a ghost that had its claws in her mind.

“You’re talking aloud, baby,” she whispered, her voice trembling despite herself. “You need to stop figuring this out with Johnny and tell me what the fuck happened—because I’m gonna panic in about ten seconds.”

Something shifted in Valerie’s face, it was almost like the moment before someone wakes from a dream. Her gaze, unfocused and storm-clouded, slowly sharpened, and for the first time in what felt like forever, she actually saw Judy.

“I came here to meet Sol,” she rasped finally, like the words had to be pried from her throat. “I needed to do something—to find a way to change their minds about the mission. After our last talk, I realized there had to be another way. I couldn’t let you get dragged through all this. Couldn’t let the tournament go to hell just because I’ve got this mess to clean up.” Her fingers curled into fists against her own lap, nails digging into the fabric of her pants. “And I had to find a way to keep you safe. Truly safe.”

Judy felt the ache of those words settle deep in her ribs, heavy, suffocating. Her grip on Valerie’s face tightened, as if holding her could somehow bound her together.

“I thought I could fix it, y’know?” Val let out a rough, humorless laugh, her voice trembling under the weight of the confession. “So, I brought up the dirt I had on Myers. Tried to use it as leverage.” She swallowed, throat working hard. “Sol left. Gave his go-ahead. Alex didn’t take too kindly to blackmail.”

Judy’s stomach twisted violently.

“And that other agent—nah, they didn’t like that at all,” she whispered, her voice dropping lower, as if the memory itself was too sharp, too painful to say aloud. “Things escalated so fast. Before I could even react, a fight broke out. They overpowered me in seconds—guy was a brute, and Alex… well, she’s always been good at making people hurt.”

She winced, her hand drifting to her side. “They had me on the ground, and they just kept kicking. I tried to fight back, but… I couldn’t. And then it happened again—another attack.” A pause. A long, empty silence. And then, barely above a whisper— “I blacked out. Everything just… went dark.”

Judy’s breath left her in a slow, unsteady exhale, her body frozen, locked between fear and fury. Valerie, on the ground, alone. Valerie, beaten and bleeding, trying to fix things by herself. Valerie, always carrying everything on her own goddamn shoulders, never letting Judy bear even a fraction of it.

She wanted to scream at her, to shake her, to demand why she didn’t fucking come to her first. Why she didn’t tell her. Why she always did this - diving headfirst into the fire without a second thought, without considering that maybe, just maybe, she didn’t have to be alone in it.

But Judy did none of those things. Instead, she pulled Valerie into her arms. Her grip was fierce, almost desperate. She held her close, pressed her face into the crook of Valerie’s neck, inhaling the lingering scent of sweat and blood and something unmistakably hers. She held her like she could shield her, like she could somehow erase everything that happened just by willing it away.

No words. No scolding. No accusations. Just the silent, overwhelming weight of love and fear and everything else she couldn’t say aloud. Valerie exhaled, her body sagging against hers, tension giving way to exhaustion.

After what felt like an eternity, Judy loosened her hold, just enough to pull back, just enough to see her face. Valerie looked pale, the edges of her features too sharp under the faint light. Blood clung to her temple, dried in streaks along her jaw. Sweat dampened strands of electric-blue hair sticking to her forehead.

Judy lifted a trembling hand, sweeping a piece of hair away from her eyes. “You’re hurt,” she murmured, the words barely holding together under the weight of her emotion. “We need to get you out of here.”

Valerie just stared at her for a long, quiet moment, something unreadable in her expression. Then, finally— “Yeah.”

Judy swallowed, pressing her forehead against Valerie’s.

“Don’t ever do this shit alone again, you fuckin’ gonk,” she whispered.

She felt Valerie’s smirk before she even saw it. “Can’t promise that.”

Judy pulled back just enough to glare at her, though the sheer relief in her chest softened the edges of it. “Swear to fuckin’ god, Val—”

“I know,” Valerie murmured, her voice quieter this time. Her fingers brushed against Judy’s wrist, lingering. “I know.”

Judy let out a slow breath, still unwilling to let her go completely. "Vik needs to check you over—"

Valerie shook her head, the motion small but sharp, wincing slightly as pain flared across her features. "No, Jude. I can’t go to Vik. He’ll figure out I’ve got chrome. And if he does, he’s obligated to report it. You know that." She let out a slow, measured breath. "I can’t risk it."

"But, Val—" Judy started, desperation clawing its way into her voice, but Valerie cut her off with a look - gentle, but unwavering.

"I’m alright, baby." She reached for Judy’s hand, her fingers unsteady, just barely trembling as she laced them together, her grip warm despite everything. "Just bruised. A little beat up. Nothing I can’t handle." She gave Judy’s hand a reassuring squeeze, though the weight of it felt more like a plea - to trust her, to let this go, even if everything inside Judy screamed against it. "I just need you to get me back to our room. That’s all."

Judy swallowed hard, her heart twisting at the sight of Valerie sitting there, holding herself together through sheer will alone. The tournament. The mission. The unseen threats closing in from all sides. It all felt suddenly, unbearably real. And yet, as fear churned in her gut, she knew she couldn’t force Valerie to go to Vik - not without making things worse, not without opening a door neither of them could afford to step through.

"Okay," she finally whispered, the word barely audible, as if speaking it too loud would shatter the fragile trust between them. "Let’s get you back to the hotel."

With slow, careful movements, she helped Val to her feet, slipping an arm around her waist, feeling the way she leaned into her, the way her body lacked its usual effortless strength. The weight of her was real, grounding, and for once, Judy wished she didn't have to bear it. They moved together, step by step, each one marked by something heavier than just physical exhaustion - the weight of the unspoken, the invisible dangers trailing just behind them.

When they reached the street, Valerie paused. Without a word, she shrugged off her flannel, the fabric stiff with dried blood, and used it to wipe away the crimson streaks from her face. Judy watched, her chest tightening as Valerie cleaned herself up with the detached efficiency of someone used to bleeding, someone used to making it look like nothing at all.

"Hey," Valerie murmured suddenly, breaking the silence, her gaze lifting to meet Judy’s. "How did you know where I was? That something happened to me?"

Judy blinked, caught off guard. "You texted me, Val," she said, searching her face for any sign of recognition.

Valerie frowned, her brows knitting together. "I did?" she echoed, the words coming slow, uncertain.

Judy nodded. "Yeah."

A shadow flickered across Valerie’s face, a thought she wasn’t voicing, a connection just out of reach. She exhaled, shaking her head slightly. "Must’ve done it automatically," she muttered after a beat, the explanation more for herself than for Judy. Then, with a tired flick of her wrist, she tossed the ruined flannel into a trash bin and turned back to her.

Judy didn’t say anything, but the unease settled deep in her bones. Because something about the way Valerie said it - like she wasn’t sure, like she didn’t remember - didn’t sit right with her at all.

Judy led Valerie inside, her fingers curled gently around her wrist, steady despite the storm raging inside her. The bathroom was small, weakly lit, the only sound the faint hum of the city outside and the whisper of fabric as she began peeling away Valerie’s clothing. Each layer she removed felt heavier than the last, the weight of what lay beneath sinking into her chest like a stone.

As the t-shirt slipped from Valerie’s shoulders, Judy’s breath hitched. The bruises were sprawling and deep, inked into her skin in cruel shades of violet and blue. They spread across her ribs, climbed up her sides, curled over her hips and thighs like something possessive. These weren’t random. They were deliberate, precise, hidden in spots her uniform would cover - marks meant to be unseen, inflicted by people who knew exactly how much damage they could get away with.

Judy swallowed against the tightness in her throat, forcing herself to keep moving, to keep her hands steady. But her fingers trembled as she helped Valerie step out of the last of her clothing, the silence stretching thick and suffocating between them. It wasn’t just the injuries that made it hard to breathe - it was the knowledge of how close they had come to disaster. How close they had come to something irreversible. How close she was to losing her.

Valerie saw it immediately. The clenched jaw, the glimmer of unshed tears in Judy’s eyes, the way her breath came uneven and shallow, like she was trying to hold back a scream. With a gentleness that should have been impossible for someone so bruised and battered, she reached up and cupped Judy’s face, her thumbs brushing softly over her cheekbones.

“Hey,” she murmured, leaning in until their foreheads touched, her voice warm and steady. “It’s okay, baby. We’re okay. Everything’s gonna be alright.”

Judy shook her head, her vision blurring as she looked at her girlfriend, taking in every cut, every dark bloom of agony beneath her skin. “How can you say that?” Her voice cracked, raw and aching. “Look at you. They did this to you.”

Valerie’s smile was faint, worn at the edges, but still there, still hers. “I know,” she said simply. “But it wasn’t for nothing.”

Judy could see the exhaustion lining her face, the way she swayed slightly on her feet. Still, there was something unshakable in her eyes, something fierce and unwavering.

“That idiotic plan of mine?” Valerie continued, exhaling slowly. “It worked. Sol just confirmed it's been greenlit by Myers. I got what we needed, Judy. The dirt on Myers—it might be enough to keep you safe. That’s all that matters.”

Judy’s chest tightened, the sheer determination in her partner’s voice a double-edged sword that both reassured and broke her. Anger and love twisted together in her guts. “But they hurt you,” she whispered, barely able to get the words out.

Valerie nodded, her expression softening. “Yeah,” she admitted. “But I checked myself. Nothing’s broken, no internal damage. Just some nasty bruises. A long, hot shower and a nap, and I’ll be good as new. Promise.”

Her voice was light, almost teasing, but Judy could hear the undercurrent of exhaustion, the strain beneath the bravado. She let out a shaky breath, her grip tightening on her girlfriend’s hands. Val was holding her together, even now, even like this.

Judy closed her eyes for a moment, grounding herself in the steady warmth of her girlfriend’s touch. When she opened them again, her resolve had settled. “Let’s get you cleaned up,” she said softly, her voice steadier now, though the worry still lingered in the undertone.

She stripped out of her own clothes and helped Val step into the cramped shower, guiding her with careful hands. The pipes groaned as she turned the water on, adjusting it until it was warm but not too hot, letting the steam rise around them. Valerie let out a quiet sigh as the water hit her skin, her muscles slowly loosening under the steady cascade.

Judy stayed close, reaching for the soap and working it into a gentle lather before bringing it to Valerie’s skin. She moved carefully, reverently, her fingers ghosting over every bruise, every mark left behind by cruel hands. The water turned pink where it ran over the shallow cuts, but soon, the blood and grime swirled away, disappearing down the drain as if it had never been there.

Even after Valerie was clean, Judy didn’t stop. She traced the places that hurt, her touch as light as a whisper, as if she could take the pain into herself and erase it. She worked slowly, methodically, her hands mapping Valerie’s body the way she had countless times before - but this time, there was no hunger in her touch, only love, only the desperate need to reassure herself that Valerie was still here. Still breathing. Still hers.

The bathroom was silent except for the rhythm of the water and the occasional drip from the faucet. When Valerie turned, Judy was still there, wrapping her arms around her, pressing herself against her back. She let her lips find the curve of Val’s shoulder, then the side of her neck - small, lingering kisses that carried everything she couldn’t bring herself to say aloud.

I was terrified.

I thought I’d lost you.

I don’t know what I’d do if I ever did.

Please, don’t leave me.

The soft flickering glow of the television was casting long, shifting shadows across the dark hotel room. The low murmur of the match commentary drifted through the air, the cadence soothing in its predictability. Japan had the game locked down - crisp passes, relentless pressure, a level of precision that left Sweden grasping for control. Yet, as the final minutes ticked away, Judy barely noticed the score.

She was leaning back against the headboard, watching the unfolding action, but not fully registering what was happening. Her thoughts wandered, lost in the lingering weight of the day.

Valerie was curled up beside her, her head resting against Judy’s thigh, strands of blue hair fanned out against the sheets like ink spilling across a blank canvas. She was deep in sleep, her breathing slow and steady, broken only by the occasional soft exhale that bordered on a snore. The sight of her like this - completely at peace - made something deep in Judy’s chest tighten. She brushed her fingers through Val’s tangled and wet hair, threading through the strands with absentminded tenderness, tracing light, repetitive patterns along her scalp. A quiet ritual, one that carried unspoken comfort for them both.

The television droned on, the energy of the match clashing with the stillness in the room. Judy let herself tune it out, focusing instead on the weight of Valerie’s body against her leg, the subtle way she nuzzled closer even in sleep, as if drawn to warmth on instinct alone. It was a grounding sensation, one that tethered Judy to the present when the past few weeks had felt like a whirlwind with no safe place to land.

A light knock at the door stirred her from her thoughts. Judy hesitated, reluctant to disrupt the quiet, but the door creaked open slightly, revealing a familiar face in the crack.

Rita.

The defender took one look inside, her sharp gaze scanning the room before locking onto Judy. Judy lifted a finger to her lips, a silent request for silence. Rita nodded in understanding, stepping inside with the ease of someone who had long since stopped waiting for invitations. She perched on the edge of the second bed, hands resting on her thighs, her voice barely above a whisper.

“We’re up against Germany in the quarters,” she said, keeping it brief. Her eyes flicked to Valerie, then back to Judy. “Reggie’s been lookin’ for you. Wanted to remind you about tomorrow’s briefin’.”

Judy sighed, rolling her shoulders as if to shake off the weight of the day. “Yeah… sorry. Got caught up in things.”

Rita didn’t press, but her gaze lingered on Valerie, taking in the way she was curled against Judy, the exhaustion clear even in sleep. “Is your kid alright?” Rita asked, her voice softer now.

“She’ll be,” Judy murmured. “Pushed herself too hard today. Long run. More than she should have. Tripped, hit the pavement.” The lie slipped out effortlessly, though it left a bitter taste in her mouth. “Clumsy gonk.”

Rita didn’t look entirely convinced, but she also didn’t push. Maybe she saw the weariness in Judy’s eyes, the kind that went beyond just another long day. Maybe she knew when to let something lie.

Instead, she stretched out, flopping back against the mattress. “Wanna watch a movie?” she asked after a pause.

Judy huffed a quiet laugh. “You don’t speak Spanish, Reet.”

“But you do,” Rita shot back with a grin, already pulling out her phone. “I think you could use some company right now, as your usual partner in crime is snorin’… and Carol showed me how to bypass the region lock. So, pick somethin’.”

Judy arched a brow but didn’t argue. A smirk tugged at the corner of her lips. “You already know what I’m gonna say.”

“Bushido it is,” Rita confirmed, fingers tapping quickly before the television flickered to a new screen, the familiar opening credits rolling in.

They settled in as the movie started, the hum of the match replaced by the sharp, stylized action of a story they both knew by heart. Valerie slept on, undisturbed, her breathing steady, while Rita slowly sank deeper into the pillows, her energy dimming with each passing scene. By the time the first film ended, she was out cold, sprawled across the second bed, a pillow hugged close to her chest.

Judy let out a quiet breath, glancing between her best friend and the woman curled against her thigh. The weight of the world still lingered, just beyond the walls of this moment, but for now - just for now - she let herself sink into the quiet, into the flickering light of the screen and the steady breathing rhythm of those she cared about most.

Judy stepped out of the bathroom, towel-drying her hair, when her gaze landed on Valerie. The sight rooted her to the spot, her heart stumbling in its rhythm.

Val lounged near the bed, her body draped in an oversized white t-shirt, the fabric loose enough to hide the bruises she was still recovering from. It was rolled up a bit, showing the toned lines of her stomach, teasing Judy with glimpses of familiar ink. Her shorts - vibrant, ridiculous, adorned with an obnoxiously bright donut pattern - somehow suited her perfectly. A backward gray snapback perched on her head, loose strands of blue slipping free, the color stark against the soft light filtering into the room.

She looked so effortlessly herself, so easy in her skin, and it made something deep in Judy’s chest ache in the best way. For the first time in too long, Val looked… peaceful. Despite the chaos around them. Despite everything.

Judy’s lips quirked into a grin, warmth unfurling inside her. “Nice shorts,” she teased, leaning against the doorframe, arms crossing as she let her eyes linger. “Donuts? Really?”

Valerie’s reaction was instant - a flash of that mischievous smirk, the one that always made Judy weak. “Hey, donuts are serious business,” she retorted, tugging at the waistband as if to prove a point. “And besides, they match my mood—sweet and delicious.”

Judy snorted, shaking her head. “You’re ridiculous, you know that?”

“Ridiculously stylish, you mean,” Val shot back, striking an exaggerated pose like she was modeling the damn things.

Judy rolled her eyes but couldn’t fight the laughter bubbling up. It filled the space between them, light and easy, something she hadn’t realized she’d missed so badly.

“You look so…” Judy trailed off as she stepped closer, fingers reaching out, ghosting over the soft cotton of her girlfriend’s shirt. “So incredibly gay.”

Val’s smirk widened into a full grin, one hand sliding around Judy’s waist, tugging her in. “That’s the idea,” she murmured, her voice thick with amusement. “Because, you know, we’re kinda gay.”

Judy looped her arms around Valerie’s neck, shaking her head with a knowing smile. “Kinda?” she echoed, arching a brow. “Babe, we’re the gayest.”

Valerie’s laugh was warm, rich, the sound settling deep in Judy’s bones. It was the kind of laugh that made everything else fade - the tension, the worries, the ever-looming weight of what came next. When their lips met, the kiss was soft, lingering, a quiet promise.

Judy wanted to freeze the moment, hold onto the way Valerie’s body responded to her touch, the way she melted so effortlessly into her. She wanted to memorize the taste of her lips, the way her fingers curled into the fabric of Judy’s shirt like she didn’t want to let go. She needed to commit every second to memory, terrified that soon enough, this might be just that - a memory. The thought of losing these moments, these precious details, filled her with a quiet desperation. She needed to etch them into her mind, to hold onto them as long as she could.

She cupped Valerie’s jaw, her thumb brushing over the sharp line of it, savoring the way her partner’s eyes fluttered closed, how she leaned into the touch like it grounded her. “How are you feelin’?” she asked, voice quieter now, more intimate.

The blue-haired woman hummed, nuzzling into the crook of Judy’s neck, pressing the softest of kisses there. “M’fine,” she murmured. “Still a little sore, not at a hundred percent, but I’ll be good for the match. The chrome’s doin’ its job. I’m gonna be okay, baby.”

Judy sighed, brushing a hand through Valerie’s hair before letting her fingers slip down to squeeze her shoulder. “Just… be careful at the beach, okay?”

Val pulled back, meeting Judy’s gaze with an exaggerated scoff. “Okay, Mom,” she deadpanned, eyes sparkling with mischief. “After all, it’s so dangerous there. I’ll make sure Panam slathers extra sunscreen on my back, don’t worry. And I’ll drink plenty of water. And, in case there’s a shark—”

“Shut up,” Judy laughed, cutting her off with another kiss.

Valerie grinned against her lips. “Can I play with the nomads, Mom?”

Judy smacked her arm, shaking her head as she turned to grab her flannel. “Be nice,” she called over her shoulder, already making her way to the door. “I’ll be back in an hour.”

She was still smiling when she stepped out. She knew she was going to miss this - the simple, intimate moments that felt like they were all theirs. But they still had time.

As the captains' briefing drew to a close, the air in the room remained thick with murmurs, voices overlapping like the distant rumble of an approaching storm. Judy lingered at the periphery, her focus slipping further from the tactical discussions that had just unfolded. Across the room, Rogue conferred in hushed tones with Meredith, their silhouettes stark against the harsh light filtering through the half-closed blinds.

The match against Germany loomed, an immovable wall between them and the semifinals. Aurore and the Tricolores hovered on the horizon, but before they could even begin to think about that, they had to make it past the Nationalelf. The Germans were known for their brutal, unrelenting style, their football as methodical as it was punishing. Every inch of the pitch would be a battlefield. No space would be given freely.

Judy’s ribs had healed enough to let her move without wincing, but the dull ache still ghosted through her side, a quiet reminder of the war she had fought just nights ago. Yet, her own body was the least of her concerns. It was Valerie who haunted her thoughts. Valerie, with her bruises that hadn’t yet faded, with her reckless insistence that she was fine, that she could take whatever came her way. Judy knew the Germans would come for her. That they would target her, hammer at her, test the limits of what she could endure. The thought made her stomach twist.

She wanted to tell her to sit this one out. To protect her from the inevitable onslaught. Wanted to pull her aside, grip her by the shoulders, and beg her not to do this. But she knew it was futile. Knew that even if she tried, Valerie would never listen. And even if, by some miracle, she did, there was no way Judy could breathe a word of Val’s condition to the coaches. The risks were too high, and the consequences too dire if Valerie was deemed unfit to play.

A voice cut through her thoughts, low and careful. "Everything okay, Judy?"

She flinched slightly, blinking as her mind snapped back to the present. Regina had sidled up beside her, studying her with that sharp, perceptive gaze that never missed a thing.

Judy forced a smile, quick and bright, a reflex more than anything else. "Yeah. I’m okay."

Regina didn’t buy it. Didn’t even pretend to. Her eyes narrowed, the concern in them quiet but insistent. "You sure? Is it your shoulder? Or maybe…" She hesitated, flicking a glance toward the pair by the window, ensuring they were out of earshot. "Is everything alright between you and Bakker? Did something happen?"

Judy exhaled, the weight of the question settling over her like a heavy shroud. Her mind scrambled for a way out, something to say that wouldn’t invite further scrutiny. "It’s all great, really," she said, voice softer now, like she was trying to convince herself as much as her mentor. "Val’s just been… her usual self lately. But everything’s fine. We’re fine."

Regina watched her for a long moment, expression unreadable, before she finally nodded. "Alright," she murmured, though the doubt lingered in her gaze. "But if you need anything, you know where to find me."

Judy nodded, swallowing past the knot in her throat. "Thanks, Reggie."

Regina gave her forearm a light squeeze before stepping away. "You’re good to go. We’ll see each other later."

"Sure thing, Reg," she said, turning toward the door before she could let the unease settle too deep. “See ya later.”

She walked the corridors with heavy steps, the conversation clinging to her like a shadow. By the time she reached the elevator, the tension had knotted so tightly in her chest that she jabbed the button with more force than necessary. The light flickered on, the doors sliding open with a mechanical sigh.

Inside, she leaned back against the cool metal, her head tipping against the wall as her eyes drifted shut. She exhaled slowly, fingers rising to press against her temple, massaging the dull ache forming there. No matter how many strategies they laid out, no matter how many tactics were discussed in that room, nothing could account for the gnawing dread curling in her gut. Because this match, this fight, wasn’t just about football. It never was.

The quiet hum of the elevator was suddenly broken. A swift movement - just a blur at the edges of Judy’s vision - before the doors slid shut, trapping her in the confined space with another person. Judy’s breath caught the moment she recognized who it was.

Daph—no, her name was Alex.

She stood rigidly across from her, her presence filling the small space like a looming storm. Before Judy could process what was happening, Alex moved with unsettling speed, her hand slamming the emergency stop button. The elevator lurched slightly before coming to a dead halt, trapping them.

Judy’s heart pounded against her ribs. The walls felt closer now, the air heavy. A flash of memory - Valerie, bruised and bloodied, pain written across every inch of her face. Alex was capable of that. Was she her next target?

But fear only had a fleeting grip on her. It burned away quickly, replaced by something else - frustration, exhaustion. She was so damn tired. Tired of the games, of the threats, of always looking over her shoulder. The weight of everything she had been holding back finally broke through her hesitation. With an exasperated sigh, she pushed herself off the wall, crossing her arms over her chest as she met Alex’s gaze head-on.

"Let me guess," she said, voice edged with irritation. "You’re here to kick the shit out of me too? Because if that’s the plan, let’s get it over with. I’ve had a hell of a couple of days, and I don’t have all damn morning."

The words tumbled out before Judy could stop them, surprising even herself. But there was no taking them back now. She wasn’t about to cower - not here, not now. If Alex wanted a confrontation, Judy was prepared to face her directly, whatever the consequences.

A flicker of surprise crossed the agent’s face, but it was gone in an instant, replaced by her usual veneer of smug amusement. A slow, mocking smile curled at the edges of her lips. "Aren’t you a feisty little thing?" she drawled, her tone laced with mockery.

She stepped closer, deliberate and measured, the air shifting with her movement. She reached out, but Judy reacted instinctively, swatting the hand away before it could make contact with her shoulder. Alex’s smirk widened, something dark and twisted flickering behind her eyes.

"I’ve always admired you, Alvy," Alex murmured after a pause, her tone almost contemplative. "You’re skilled, hard-working, smart… maybe a little too smart for your own good. But getting involved with V? Now that was out of character. Not your best move."

Judy’s jaw clenched.

"She’s a monster, you know," Alex continued, voice deceptively light. "Our monster. A perfect little killing machine, soaked in blood, trained to obey. Doesn’t really fit your type, does she?"

She was trying to reduce Valerie to nothing more than the tool FIA had shaped her into, denying her any semblance of humanity or free will. The implication that she was still their plaything, their puppet, made Judy’s blood boil. Rage sparked hot in her veins, but she forced herself to stay still, to keep her expression unreadable. Alex wanted a reaction. She wasn’t going to give her the satisfaction.

Her eyes gleamed as she pressed on, voice dipping lower. "Or maybe… it’s the monster in her that gets you going. Is that it? Does it turn you on, knowing she could break you with those hands? Do you like being pinned down, fucked like it’s the last night on earth? Is that what keeps you coming back?"

"Fuck off," Judy spat, her voice cold as steel.

Alex only laughed, the sound low and knowing. But Judy didn’t waver, her gaze steady and unwavering. The laughter faded, and something sharper edged into Alex’s expression - something closer to resentment.

"Enjoy it while you can," she sneered. "Because it won’t last. You’ll either bolt once you realize what kind of beast you’re trying to tame, or she’ll get bored. You’ll be nothing but a memory. To be honest, I’m surprised she hasn’t dropped you already. Must be something special about you, huh? Something magical between those thighs keeping her hooked?"

Judy’s stomach twisted, but she didn’t let it show. Instead, a realization settled over her, cooling the fire of her anger. The bitterness in Alex’s voice, the cruel edge to her words - it wasn’t just about lashing out, about hurting Judy.

"Oh," she said, voice soft, almost amused. "I see it now. You’re jealous."

For a split second, Alex’s mask slipped. A flicker of something raw and vulnerable came out before she could cover it up with another smirk.

"Anything else you wanted to say, or are we done here?" Judy asked, lifting a brow, her defiance cutting through the tension.

Alex moved before she could react, slamming Judy against the wall. The impact sent a sharp jolt of pain through her ribs. Alex’s hands clamped around her wrists, pressing them against the metal.

"Don’t get too cocky, Alvy," she murmured, her voice low and dangerous. "You think you’ve got it all figured out, don’t you? Laughable. You know nothing, you’re nothing. Let me tell you something—just because she paid a price for your safety doesn’t mean you’re safe. If Myers won’t let us come for you… rogue agents don’t care about orders. One day, I’ll be done with all this bullshit, and when that happens… you’d better watch your back."

A twisted sort of promise lingered in her words, a hint of what Alex could be without the leash of the FIA holding her back. But Judy didn’t flinch. Instead of fear, she felt a surge of resolve. She had been through too much to be intimidated now, even by someone like Alex.

"Okay, puta, find me when you stop suckin’ Myers’ dick," she shot back, voice sharp as a blade.

Something flickered in Alex’s eyes - irritation, amusement, something in between. Her grip loosened, and with an exasperated groan, she took a step back, rubbing her temples as if Judy was giving her a headache.

"You’re playing a dangerous game," she muttered. "This is way out of your league. You’re gonna get burned. Consider this your last warning—our last warning. Break things off if she can’t. There’s no happy ending here, no future, and you know it. She will crawl back to FIA. That’s the only life she knows. She’s ours. And there is nothing you can do about it."

Judy didn’t hesitate, didn’t break eye contact as she stepped forward. She reached over, pressed the emergency stop button again. The elevator jolted back to life, humming as it resumed its ascent.

"I’ll take my chances," she said, voice steady, fearless.

The elevator dinged softly as it reached fifth floor. The doors slid open, and without another glance, Judy stepped out, leaving Alex alone in the confined space, the air still crackling with the tension between them.

The door slammed shut behind Judy with a force that rattled the frame, the sound ricocheting off the walls like a gunshot. In the suffocating silence that followed, she stood frozen, her breath coming in sharp, uneven gasps. Her chest heaved, her pulse an erratic drumbeat beneath her skin, and yet, she couldn't seem to move. It was as if every muscle in her body had locked up, paralyzed by the storm raging inside her.

Alex’s voice still echoed in her mind, each word steeped in venom, sinking deep beneath her skin, poisoning her with doubt. She had met the words with cold detachment, kept her face unreadable, refused to give Alex the satisfaction of a reaction. But now, away from prying eyes, away from that elevator, the tight control she had held onto slipped through her fingers like sand.

She staggered forward, her knees hitting the edge of the bed before she collapsed onto it. The scent of Valerie clung to the sheets, familiar and grounding, but even that couldn’t steady her. She turned onto her side, curling inward, her fingers tangling in the fabric as if holding onto something tangible might keep her from unraveling completely. But it was too late. The dam broke.

A ragged sob tore free, raw and unsteady, shaking her to the core. One turned into another, and then another, until she wasn’t just crying - she was shattering, her body trembling from the sheer force of it. She pressed her face into the sheets, willing herself to silence, to control, but the weight of Alex’s words bore down on her, suffocating and inescapable.

Was any of it true? Had she been blind to things she should have seen? Was it all just an impossible dream? Would she end up heartbroken and left behind?

The thoughts twisted inside her mind, cruel and relentless. Doubt coiled in her stomach like a living thing, tightening with each passing second, each replay of the conversation. The worst part wasn’t the words themselves, but the way they clung to her, the way they found the fractures in her armor and dug deeper. And now, alone in the quiet, she had nothing to drown them out. She squeezed her eyes shut, pressing her palms against her temples as if she could physically force the thoughts away.

The sudden dip of the mattress barely registered at first. Then came the hesitant touch - light fingers brushing against her arm.

“Jude.”

The voice was low, cautious. Familiar.

Judy flinched at first, her breath hitching, but then she turned, blinking through the haze of tears. Valerie was beside her, her gray eyes sharp with worry, her expression unreadable, though Judy could see the tension in the tight line of her jaw, the way her fingers curled into fists against her thigh.

“What the fuck happened?” Valerie asked, her voice edged with fear. Or anger. Or maybe both.

Judy opened her mouth, but no words came. She shook her head instead, squeezing her eyes shut as fresh tears burned their way down her cheeks. A quiet curse left Val’s lips, followed by a barely-there touch - a hand on her back, uncertain but grounding.

“Jude, talk to me.”

Judy dragged in a shaky breath, her chest rising and falling too fast, lungs still struggling to catch up with the weight pressing down on her. She turned her head slightly, searching Valerie’s face, needing to see her. And there she was - brows drawn tight, jaw clenched, eyes scanning her with the kind of sharp, surgical precision that told Judy she was already looking for the injury, already cataloging the damage, already deciding who needed to pay.

The sight of her - worried, waiting, ready to burn the world down if it meant keeping her safe - sent a fresh wave of emotion crashing over Judy. Before she could think better of it, she leaned in, pressing her forehead against Valerie’s shoulder, exhaling shakily.

“Alex,” she whispered, her voice rough, barely more than breath. “Ran into her.”

Valerie went still, her body locking up beneath Judy’s touch like a live wire suddenly cut off from its current. “What did she do?” Her voice was low, controlled - but there was something dangerous coiled beneath the surface, something already preparing for the worst.

Judy shook her head against her shoulder, trying to pull herself together, but the words felt tangled in her throat. “She didn’t—she didn’t do anything,” she finally managed. “Just talked. Just tried to… fuck with my head.”

Valerie pulled back enough to see her properly, gray eyes scanning, searching, dissecting every inch of her. “Did she hurt you?”

Judy swallowed hard, but before she could answer, Valerie’s gaze flickered downward - landed on the faint red marks circling her wrists. That was all it took. The concern in her expression hardened, heat igniting behind her eyes like a lit fuse. She shifted as if to stand, muscles tensed, hands curling into fists.

“No!” Judy was up in an instant, catching her wrist before she could take a single step. “Don’t you see? This is exactly what she wants. She wants you to react, to do something reckless, something that’ll give them leverage.” She tightened her grip, trying to make her hear, make her stay. “Don’t. Please.”

Valerie’s eyes blazed, the war still raging behind them. Judy could feel the restrained violence humming beneath her skin, her whole body coiled tight like a spring on the verge of snapping.

“It doesn’t hurt,” she said, voice quieter now, imploring. “Please, Val. We can’t let them win. Her words… her words were worse than this.”

The tension stretched between them, thick, electric. Valerie’s breathing was too even, too controlled, the kind of stillness that came right before a bomb detonated. But then, slowly - so painfully slowly - she let out a shuddering breath and dropped back onto the bed. She didn’t speak, didn’t look away, but Judy could see it - the fight hadn’t left her. It had just been contained, buried somewhere deep.

Relief mixed with exhaustion as Judy exhaled and reached for her, fingers tangling with Valerie’s. And Val let her, thumb brushing absently over her knuckles, the small movement at odds with the rigid set of her shoulders.

“What did she say to you?”

Judy hesitated. The words still felt like poison on her tongue, but she knew Valerie deserved to hear them. She took a slow breath and forced herself to speak, to push past the tightness in her throat and say it out loud - the insinuations, the way Alex had twisted truths into barbed things meant to hurt, the doubt she’d tried to plant like a sickness beneath Judy’s skin.

When she finished, Valerie didn’t say anything at first. Her grip on Judy’s hand had tightened, her free hand flexing at her side, as if she was physically restraining herself from doing something reckless after all. Her gaze had dropped to the floor, fingers twitching slightly, jaw set. When she finally looked up, there was something new in her expression - something heavier, something that made Judy’s stomach drop. It wasn’t just anger. Not just protectiveness. It was something deeper, something that cut straight through to the core.

“Jude,” she finally murmured, voice rough, almost hesitant. Then, before Judy could ask, before she could brace herself, Valerie tugged her close, pressing a lingering kiss to her forehead, her lips warm and steady against Judy’s skin. She stayed there for a moment, forehead resting against hers, breath mingling in the small space between them. “There’s something you need to know. And you’re not going to like it.”

Judy watched as Valerie exhaled sharply through her nose, as if steadying herself before she spoke again. “Alexis and I… we were close when we were younger. Back when we thought we had it all figured out. Playing daredevils, pushing boundaries, making a game out of every mission. See how far we could go without leaving a trace, or finishing the task without depending on technology. Just a couple of reckless kids who thought they were invincible.” A bitter smile flickered at her lips, gone as quickly as it came. “We got close. But it was never—it never meant anything to me. I was just looking for a way to blow off steam. She, though… she was feeling something more. And maybe—” Valerie hesitated, her gaze darkening. “Maybe I didn’t want to see it.”

Judy sat perfectly still, fingers curling into the fabric of her sleeve as she studied Valerie’s face, trying to read the layers beneath her words. Her stomach twisted. She wasn’t sure she wanted to hear the rest of that story.

“And then everything changed,” Valerie murmured. “Suddenly we weren’t those carefree idiots anymore. Because of that mission in Africa. We saw things, Jude. Things that still haunt me.” Her jaw tightened, her gray eyes flickering downward. “A ritual—something brutal, inhumane. The bodies were still smoldering when we found them. Scorched limbs. Mutilated faces. And the worst part?” She let out a hollow breath. “It was a kid running the whole thing. Younger than us. Leading them like some… prophet. We had him cornered, and I—”

Judy saw it in her face before she even said the words. The hesitation. The guilt.

“I couldn’t do it,” Valerie admitted, voice barely above a whisper. “I froze.”

A silence stretched between them, heavy and suffocating.

“But Alex didn’t. She pulled the trigger before I could,” she continued, gaze distant, as if she was looking through time itself. “And after that… she was different. Shut me out. I told myself she needed space, but the truth was, I didn’t know how to reach her anymore. And I think—I think she resented me for making her carry that weight alone. For forcing her to be the one who pulled the trigger… when I couldn’t.”

Judy swallowed hard, her throat tight. This wasn’t just another war story, another chapter in Valerie’s past. There were layer to Val’s past, intricate and painful, things that had dug its roots into her and never let go. It was one of these wounds that had never really closed.

Valerie let out a breath, as if forcing herself to get to the part she had been avoiding. “And now… she’s still mad. Still holding onto it. And maybe… maybe she’s jealous, too.” Her lips pressed into a thin line before she finally looked at Judy again, her gaze raw, unguarded. “Jealous that I fell in love with you when I never could with her. No matter how much she wanted me to.”

Judy sucked in a sharp breath, her mind spinning. The jealousy that had practically radiated off Alex now made sense, but it wasn’t as simple as she had thought. This wasn’t just about them, about their relationship. It was about scars. About guilt. About ghosts that refused to stay buried.

And suddenly, a storm of tangled emotions surged inside her. Anger. Hurt. Unease. Why had Valerie never told her this before? Why had she kept this hidden, only for it to come out now, in the wake of Alex’s biting words?

But then she looked at her - really looked at her - and the frustration ebbed just enough to make space for something else. Valerie wasn’t just keeping secrets. She was still trying to figure out how to live with them. Still learning how to share the weight of them. This was just another piece of the puzzle. Another part of the woman she loved, forcing its way into the light whether either of them was ready for it or not. And even though it stung to learn of it this way, Judy knew - there were bigger and more important battles ahead.

Judy reached for her instinctively, fingers curling around Valerie’s hand, gripping it desperately. But before she could fully sink into her girlfriend’s warmth, Valerie pulled away, standing abruptly. Her touch vanished, replaced by the restless energy of her pacing. Back and forth across the room. The tension radiating from her was almost suffocating.

Then, suddenly, she stopped. “We can use this,” she said, voice sharp, decisive.

Judy blinked. “Use what?”

Valerie turned, something settling behind her storm-gray eyes, something final. “If they believe we’re no longer together, they might leave you alone. After the tournament, if they think we’ve split up, they’ll have no reason to target you.”

The words landed like a gut punch. Judy stiffened, a slow, crawling dread unfurling in her chest. “You’re saying we should pretend to… break up?”

Valerie nodded once. “It’s a strategy. A way to keep you safe. They’ll be watching, waiting for any sign of weakness. This way, you’ll be out of their sights.”

Judy swallowed hard, her throat tight. It made sense - cold, calculated sense. The kind of logic Valerie had always wielded like a blade, carving out a path in the chaos. But this wasn’t just another move in some game. This was them.

A deep unease settled in her bones. Feigning a breakup felt like ripping open a wound she wasn’t sure would ever heal. For the first time in what felt like forever, she had something true and significant, something steady amid the uncertainty. Valerie was real. And now she was suggesting they throw it away, even if just for show?

Her mind reeled. She could see the ruthless logic of it - how it might work, how it might be their best shot. Yet, the reality of it felt like a free fall into unknown. The tournament would be over in a week. And after that? What then? They had never spoken about what came next, about what life looked like beyond the chaos. But Judy had imagined it - late nights in the quiet, morning sunlight spilling through curtains, a world without the constant hum of danger.

But this? This made it all feel fragile, like something already slipping through her fingers.

“But what about us?” The words barely made it past her lips, small and vulnerable in the silence. “If we do this, what happens to us?”

Valerie’s expression softened, and in a few strides, she was there, cupping Judy’s face in her hands. Her fingers were warm, steady, brushing against her skin as if trying to memorize it. “We’ll get through this,” she murmured. “It’s not forever. Just until it’s safe.”

The weight of it pressed down on Judy, choking her. She searched Valerie’s face for sign of confidence. But she found something else instead. Beneath the conviction, beneath the carefully constructed plan, there was fear. A quiet, gnawing fear that mirrored her own.

“I’m just trying to protect you, Jude,” Val’s voice was gentle. “I made a deal with them, but I know how they operate. They’ll look for any leverage they can find. This is just an extra layer of protection.”

Judy exhaled shakily, lowering her gaze. “I’m scared, Val.”

The confession cracked the air between them, raw and exposed.

Valerie didn’t hesitate. She sank down onto her knees in front of Judy, wrapping her arms around her waist, pressing her forehead against Judy’s chest. The moment she did, Judy curled her fingers into the soft strands of Valerie’s hair, holding onto her like she might disappear.

“I’m scared that this is it,” Judy whispered, voice shaking. “That once we leave, this will just be a memory, some kind of dream. That I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to convince myself it was real. That you were real. That you were here, with me… And I’m scared that the surgery won’t work, or worse, that they won’t let you go so easily.”

Valerie pulled back just enough to look up at her, hands still firm at Judy’s sides. “It might take time,” she admitted, voice quieter now. “But I will come back to you. I promise. You’re not gonna lose me.”

Judy’s heart clenched around the words. She wanted to believe them. She had to. Even with the storm looming, even with everything uncertain, she had to hold onto that promise like a lifeline.

Because the alternative? The thought of losing Valerie, of everything they had built being torn away by forces beyond their control?

That was too much to bear.

Chapter Text

Chapter XX | Stay
All you have to do is stay - a minute, just take your time.

Judy had steeled herself for a brutal contest, and the electrified atmosphere inside the stadium only reinforced that expectation. Every seat was filled, the stands a sea of restless bodies, the air thick with the kind of tension that precedes something historic. The roar of the crowd rose and fell in waves, but Judy had long since learned to tune it out, letting the noise dissolve into the background hum of battle. Her world narrowed to the field, to the rhythm of the game, to the ball at her feet and the figures in white and black jerseys.

The first whistle blew, and the match ignited with immediate intensity. Germany wasted no time asserting their dominance, their movements calculated, their aggression honed to a razor’s edge. Judy found herself caught in a relentless push-and-pull, each advance met with a swift counter, every opening she glimpsed closing before she could exploit it. She sprinted, twisted, fought for possession, carving through defenders with every ounce of strength she had - but the Germans were ruthless. Any time she neared the box, they collapsed around her like a steel trap, forcing her shots wide and her passes inaccurate.

But the pressure wasn’t just on her. It didn’t take long for Judy to realize that Valerie was their true target. From the first play, the Germans had her locked in their sights, shadowing her like vultures. The tackles were vicious, delivered with a force that made Judy's teeth clench. Val, as always, faced them with the stubborn defiance Judy had fallen for, never backing down, never showing pain. But Judy could see the toll it was taking - could read it in the subtle stiffness of her girlfriend’s movements, the half-second longer it took her to rise after each collision.

Judy knew the damage she was hiding. Three days wasn’t enough to heal ribs bruised to hell, to erase the remnants of the beating Valerie had taken. She’d told Judy she was fine, had flashed that infuriating, reassuring smirk, but it had been a lie, a brave front - one meant to ease Judy’s worry, not an honest reflection of the pain Val carried onto the field. And now, every time she hit the ground and took longer to get back up, Judy could feel the knot in her chest twisting tighter.

Frustration simmered beneath her skin, but she wasn’t alone in that feeling. They were playing well - maybe even better than they had in their previous matches – yet still, it wasn’t enough. Nothing seemed to stick, every shot on goal was met with resistance. The near misses stung, each one a reminder of how agonizingly close they were, yet how far they still had to go.

The minutes bled away, the match a grueling deadlock. Then, a flicker of hope - Judy cut off a pass at midfield, her body moving on instinct, adrenaline surging as she drove forward. Valerie was right there, a blur of blue and black at her side, perfectly positioned. Judy sent the ball her way, the weight of the pass just right, but before Val could take it, a German defender slid in with precision, knocking it out of bounds and sending Valerie stumbling.

Judy barely had time to register the lost chance before another hit came. Valerie fell to the ground again. This time, Judy felt her breath catch. Valerie didn’t bounce up immediately. She stayed down, just for a second too long - long enough that dread coiled in Judy’s gut. When she finally pushed herself to her feet, her expression was carefully schooled into indifference, but Judy saw it. Saw the way her hand ghosted over her side before she forced it away, the brief flicker of pain before she masked it.

The referee hesitated, stepping toward Valerie with a questioning look, but the blue-haired striker waved her off with a sharp shake of her head. Judy clenched her fists, knowing that stubbornness all too well. Knowing that even if Valerie was barely holding herself together, she would rather die than admit weakness.

Finally, the whistle blew, ending the first half. The scoreboard remained untouched. A scoreless draw. A scoreless war.

Judy bent forward, hands braced on her knees, her breath coming in sharp, heavy bursts. Sweat dripped from her brow, stinging her eyes, but she barely noticed. Her gaze found Valerie immediately. She stood a few feet away, mirroring Judy’s stance, chest heaving, one hand pressing subtly against her side. Even at a distance, the pain was evident. And Judy hated it.

Valerie was near her limit.

Judy saw it in the way she moved - each step slightly more measured than the last, the stiff set of her shoulders betraying exhaustion she refused to acknowledge. Her girlfriend passed her with a fleeting smile, but it was hollow, barely held together, a poor disguise for the agony lurking beneath. Judy knew Val too well to be fooled.

She had minutes - maybe seconds - before they all disappeared into the locker room, before Val would swallow it all down and pretend nothing was wrong. Before she pushed herself too far, just like she always did.

Judy made a split-second decision, her fingers curling around Regina’s arm as the rest of the team filed past, sweat-drenched and silent, their exhaustion speaking louder than words. The moment Valerie vanished through the tunnel, Judy turned to her coach, her grip tightening.

“You need to take Val off the pitch,” she said, her voice quiet but firm.

Regina’s eyes flickered with confusion before narrowing. “Take her off? Judy, she’s one of our best players out there.”

“I know.” The urgency clawed at Judy, a vice tightening around her ribs. “But they’re targeting her, Reggie. Every hit, every tackle—they’re going after her. She’s barely holding on. If we keep her out there, she’s going to get hurt. Badly. And we can’t afford that.”

Regina hesitated, her lips pressing into a thin line.

Judy pushed on. “Look, we need her for the next matches. France is waiting for us in the semis. This game—yeah, we have to win, but if we lose Val now, it won’t matter. We need to play smart. And we can win it without her.”

The weight of her words hung between them, thick as the humidity pressing against her skin. Regina’s expression remained unreadable, but Judy wasn’t finished.

“Put Bianca in for her,” she urged, shifting gears. “We played together the whole season—she knows how I move. Let me stay up front with two midfielders behind me, let’s shift it to throw the Germans off their game. They did their homework, Reggie. They’re expecting Val to be out there—this change could give us the edge we need.”

Regina exhaled, her gaze drifting toward the tunnel. She was considering it. That was something.

“I’ll talk to Rogue,” she said at last, her voice careful, deliberate. “But no promises, Alvy. We’ll see what she thinks.”

Judy swallowed back her frustration. It wasn’t the certainty she wanted, but it was a crack in the door. She nodded, releasing Regina’s arm, but as her coach strode away, she lingered, the tension still coiled tight in her chest.

She could only hope that Rogue would see the logic in her suggestion, that they would make the right call before it was too late. Because all of this wasn’t just about winning. This was about Val getting what she needed - the chance to change everything, to fix what was broken before time ran out. If she played against France in this condition, she wouldn’t last. If she didn’t last, she wouldn’t finish the scan. And if she didn’t do it, the surgery that could save her would slip through their fingers like dust.

Judy tried to convince herself that her plan was purely tactical, a calculated move to give them a real shot at the final. But deep down, she knew the truth. The most crucial match wasn’t this one - it was the one waiting for them in the semifinals.

The locker room pulsed with the low thrum of tension, the air thick with sweat. Conversations wove through the space in hushed murmurs, clipped instructions exchanged beneath the weight of exhaustion. Somewhere in the background, Rogue’s voice rose, sharp and commanding, rallying the team with a speech meant to ignite that last flicker of fight. Judy heard it, but only distantly, the words washing over her like static.

Her focus was elsewhere.

Across the room, Valerie sat hunched over, adjusting her shin guards with movements that were too controlled, too precise - an effort not to betray whatever ache was thrumming beneath her skin. The flicker of a wince, the careful way she stretched as if every muscle burned - it all told Judy what Valerie wouldn’t. The blue-haired striker kept her head down, deliberately avoiding her gaze, but it was pointless. Judy could read her in ways that no one else could. And Valerie knew it.

Rogue’s voice hit a final crescendo, followed by a chorus of agreement from the team. The room stirred with motion, bodies rising, gearing up for the second half. But Judy stayed where she was, her thoughts locked onto Valerie, the growing pit of worry settling deep in her gut.

The moment the signal came to return to the field, she moved. She wove through the tangle of teammates, each step driven by a singular purpose. Just as Valerie rose to leave, Judy caught her by the arm, a gentle but firm grip that halted her escape.

Valerie finally met her eyes.

For a fleeting moment, something raw flickered in those storm-gray depths - pain, exhaustion, maybe even guilt. But then, like a curtain falling, it was gone, replaced by a practiced smirk that didn’t quite reach her eyes.

Judy didn’t speak, not at first. Instead, she waited, letting the last of their teammates filter out, the heavy door swinging shut with a resounding thud. The locker room fell into a hushed stillness, save for the distant echo of footsteps fading down the hall. Only then did Judy step forward, closing the distance between them, her arms slipping around Valerie’s waist in a fierce, wordless embrace.

For a moment, Val resisted, her body stiff with the effort of keeping herself together. But then, with a slow exhale, she sank into the warmth Judy offered, her arms winding around her in return. Judy held on, pressing her forehead against Valerie’s shoulder as if she could shield her from everything - the bruises, the pressure, the silent battle waging behind those tired eyes.

Judy pulled back just enough to cup Valerie’s face in her hands, her thumbs grazing the sharp angles of her cheekbones. "Are you okay?" she asked, voice barely above a whisper, the worry she had been trying to keep in check spilling into her tone.

Valerie hesitated, and in that pause, Judy already knew the answer.

"I will be," Valerie murmured eventually, her words wrapped in quiet determination. She forced another smirk, but it faltered at the edges. "We just need one break, one good play… then it’s ours."

Judy’s chest ached. She knew Valerie was trying to keep her grounded, to remind her why they were here, but all she saw was the exhaustion, the unspoken agony.

Without thinking, she leaned in and kissed her. It was soft, lingering, a desperate whisper of love and concern pressed into parted lips. A plea to stay safe, to not push too hard, to just let someone else carry the weight for once.

A voice shattered the moment.

"Hey, lovebirds! Less makin’ out, more scorin’ goals!"

Judy pulled away with a sigh, glancing over to see Rita standing in the doorway, arms crossed, a smirk playing at her lips.

She felt Valerie chuckle, a quiet breath against her skin, before their fingers brushed one last time, reluctant to part.

"We’re coming," Judy said, voice steady, even as her heart pounded unevenly in her chest.

Valerie squeezed her hand once before slipping past her, stepping toward the battle that awaited.

The second half had barely begun, yet the match had already boiled over into something raw and vicious. Every tackle came harder, every movement laced with a desperation that clawed at the edges of the game. The stadium trembled with the unrelenting energy of the crowd, their roars colliding into a deafening wall of sound, yet to Judy, it all dulled into meaningless static the moment she saw Valerie go down.

It happened fast. A brutal collision, a body sent sprawling, the sickening crunch of impact swallowed by the riotous cheers. The tackle was so forceful and deliberate that it seemed almost intent on sidelining her for good. Valerie’s blue hair fanned out against the grass, stark against the neon gleam of the floodlights. For a breath - one horrible, gut-wrenching moment - she didn’t move.

Judy’s chest constricted, a sharp, biting thing, before her feet finally moved on instinct. She sprinted, each stride fueled by something primal, something beyond fear. She barely registered the sting in her muscles or the uneven pounding of her pulse. Valerie was all she could see.

Dropping to her knees beside her, Judy reached for Valerie’s hand, fingers shaking. Val’s breath came in sharp, ragged pulls, her chest rising and falling with too much effort. Her face was tight with pain, brows drawn together, lips pressed in a thin line to keep whatever agony she was feeling locked behind gritted teeth.

Judy swallowed hard, throat dry, her gaze flickering up. On the sidelines, Regina stood rigid, her expression unreadable beneath the floodlights. Their eyes met, and Judy’s silent plea was clear – a desperate, unspoken cry for action. Judy knew her mentor well enough to recognize the brief hesitation before her decision locked into place. Regina’s sharp nod sent her into motion, heading straight for Rogue. Judy exhaled, the relief barely enough to steady the hammering in her chest.

Her attention snapped back to Valerie. Carefully, she slid a steadying arm around her, helping her sit up, feeling the barely restrained tremor in her muscles. The weight of the game still surged around them - shouts from teammates, whistles blaring, the opposing team retreating just enough to give space but not enough to disguise their satisfaction. The bastard who’d taken Valerie down was still lingering too close, like a predator eyeing wounded prey.

Then, Vik was there, crouching beside them, his presence a welcome anchor amidst the tumult.

“Can you stand?” his voice came calm, measured, but Judy caught the slight crease of concern in his brow.

Valerie let out a slow, measured exhale, nodding once. With their help, she pushed herself upright, her arm slung over Vik’s shoulder. Judy hovered beside her, ready to catch her if she swayed.

Then she saw it - the substitution board flashing bright red, Bianca’s number already up. Valerie was coming off. A strange mix of relief and unease washed over Judy. It was the right call. There was no sense in keeping Valerie in, not when she could barely stand without support. And yet, seeing her girlfriend limp toward the sidelines, bruised and battered, made her insides twist.

She reached for Valerie’s hand one last time, squeezing lightly. Val’s gray eyes met hers, and for a flicker of a second, something passed between them - something unspoken, an understanding only they could share.

Judy leaned in, voice low, steady. “We’ve got this. Don’t worry about the game. We’ll handle it.”

A small nod, almost imperceptible, was Valerie’s only reply before Vik guided her away.

Judy stayed frozen for half a breath, watching her disappear into the tunnel before the weight of reality settled back onto her shoulders. The match wasn’t over. Not even close. The opposing team had made their move, but so would they. Her focus sharpened, her grip tightening around the moment, unwilling to let the loss of Valerie unravel her. She turned, finding Bianca already sprinting onto the field, ready to take position.

Judy met her eyes, inhaled deep, then called out over the din of the stadium, her voice a battle cry.

“Follow my lead!”

Bianca grinned, nodding sharply as she fell into formation. The whistle blew. The game raged on. Judy’s world narrowed to the movement of the ball, the shifting of bodies, the patterns unfolding in rapid, chaotic beauty before her.

It didn’t take long for opportunity to come. Bianca surged down the right flank, her footwork fluid as she danced past German midfielders with grace. Judy’s eyes flicked across the field, taking in the positioning, the spaces waiting to be exploited. The ball zipped to Panam, who barely needed to glance up before flicking it back to Bianca, threading it perfectly between two defenders. The rookie wasted no time, sending a pinpoint pass straight into Judy’s path.

It was an opening. A fleeting, perfect moment of synchronicity.

Judy took it.

Her movements were instinctive, honed by years of playing on the edge of chaos. She shifted her weight, evading one defender, then another, her heart hammering as she drew back her foot. The world held its breath. Then, with a sharp exhale, she struck. The ball rocketed forward, slicing through the air with unerring precision. It flew past the outstretched arms of the keeper, kissed the back of the net, and sent the entire stadium into an uproar.

But Judy didn’t move. Didn’t let herself feel the elation, not yet. Fifteen minutes still remained, and a counterattack could undo everything. Her body remained coiled tight, her mind refusing to celebrate. Not until the final whistle. Not until it was over.

As the seconds on the clock ticked down, the atmosphere in the stadium grew taut with tension. A living, breathing entity.

Then came the Germans’ last push - a frenzied assault fueled by desperation. Their final chance manifested in a corner kick, and Judy felt the breath lock in her throat as she watched the ball whip into the box. It curled dangerously, aimed with deadly precision. A German forward rose above the rest, her header connecting solidly, sending the ball streaking toward the goal like a bullet.

Judy’s stomach twisted. Time stretched unbearably.

Amidst the turmoil, Rebecca emerged. She launched herself, a force of agility and determination, her body cutting through the chaos with a fluid grace that seemed almost unnatural. Her arms stretched wide, her gloves finding the ball in a breathtaking, split-second save.

The whistle’s shrill cry followed almost instantly. And then the silence fractured into pandemonium.

Judy exhaled sharply, releasing a breath, she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. The tension in her chest dissipating like a storm breaking apart. Her teammates exploded into celebration, but she barely registered the cheers, the ecstatic embrace of bodies, the way Rebecca was swallowed by a sea of elated arms. Her mind had already shifted elsewhere, to the tunnel, to Valerie. The game, the win - it all faded to the background.

She was running before she even realized it, slipping away from the victory-drunk crowd, her cleats echoing down the stadium’s dimly lit corridors. For the first time in her career, the thrill of the game was eclipsed by a pressing concern, and she was the first one to leave the pitch. Her pulse pounded in her ears, drowning out everything except the need to push forward. The medical office door loomed ahead, and without thinking, she shoved it open with force.

Valerie sat on the edge of an examination bed, her posture tense, her expression carved in careful neutrality. Viktor stood beside her, methodically applying a cooling spray to her side. His focus was split between his task and a familiar, amused exasperation that never quite left his face when dealing with either of them.

Judy barely saw him. Her gaze found Valerie’s, and the tension inside her unspooled in a rush so intense it nearly buckled her knees. Valerie was alright. A shaky exhale left Judy’s lips, and she forced herself to smile, trying to suppress the whirlwind of emotions clawing at her ribs. “We won,” she murmured.

A flicker of warmth passed through Valerie’s storm-gray eyes. The corners of her mouth lifted in a tired but genuine smile. Judy crossed the space in a heartbeat, sinking onto the bed beside her. She didn’t care that Vik was watching. His smirk deepened as he straightened, rolling his eyes as if he’d already seen this scene play out a hundred times.

“Can you talk some sense into her? She’s being as stubborn as a goddamn mule.”

Judy glanced between them, the tension palpable despite the doctor’s attempt at humor. Valerie let out a soft, pained chuckle. “I don’t need a full exam,” she insisted, her tone light, but Judy could hear the strain beneath it. “I know my body. I’m fine.”

Vik’s smirk faded. “Yeah? ‘Cause from where I’m standing, you look like you’ve been put through a fuckin’ meat grinder.” He crossed his arms. “I’ve seen the bruises, Valerie. Some of these are fresh, but there are older ones too. You’re not healing up right. I need to check for deeper damage.”

Judy could feel Valerie stiffen beside her. She knew why she was resisting, and it wasn’t just about pride or stubbornness. Letting Viktor dig too deep meant risking exposure - meant him discovering things they couldn’t afford for him to know. But at the same time, she also knew he wasn’t wrong to be worried.

“Vik,” Judy said, stepping in. “She’s been an athlete long enough to know when something’s really wrong. It’s a gut instinct for us. And we need her for the next match. Can you trust her on this? I’ll keep a close eye on her. If anything seems off, I’ll drag her to your office myself. We have two days before the semis, and I’ll make sure she gets the rest she needs.”

Viktor’s jaw tensed, but the sharpness in his eyes softened as he studied her. “Yeah, I heard of your gut instinct,” he muttered, shaking his head. “Did I ever tell you about the hockey guy I patched up once? Broke his leg in two places, insisted he could play another shift. Ended up passing out on the ice. First thing he asked when he woke up from surgery was if his team won.”

Judy gave him a smile. “Committed. Sounds about right.”

Vik sighed, rubbing a hand over his face before stepping toward his cabinet, pulling out a bottle of painkillers. “Alright, kiddo. I get that these next two matches are everything. But you both need to be smart.” He turned, pointing a finger at Valerie. “This reluctance for a scan is suspicious as hell, but I’ll take Alvy’s word for it, since she’s clearly the brains of this operation. If you are bleeding internally, that’s not my problem anymore.”

Valerie huffed out a small laugh, but didn’t argue.

“So, I’ll let it slide this time,” Vik continued, tossing the bottle toward Valerie, who caught it with ease, “but only if you promise to take it easy for the next couple of days. I’ll give you ice packs, painkillers, and a strict order to rest. But if I catch you grimacing or limping on the field, I swear to fuckin’ God, I’ll have Rogue pull you out. Deal?”

Valerie hesitated, but Judy squeezed her forearm in silent encouragement. Finally, she exhaled. “Deal,” she said, though her tone carried a reluctant sigh of defeat.

Judy helped her slide off the examination table, steadying her with careful hands. The moment stretched between them, heavy with an intimacy that neither Vik nor the clinical setting could intrude upon. Valerie leaned into her touch just for a second before straightening, and together, they turned toward the door.

They had just reached the threshold when Vik’s voice followed them, laced with teasing mischief. “And when I said rest, I meant it—no fuckin’!”

Judy felt her cheeks flush instantly, heat crawling up her neck. Valerie stiffened beside her before letting out a low groan, shaking her head. They exchanged a brief, mortified glance, their eyes reflecting a mix of amusement and sheer embarrassment. Behind them, Vik’s laughter rang out, warm and knowing, following them out into the corridor.

The moment the door clicked shut behind them, Judy exhaled, rubbing her face. “Fuckin’ hell.”

Valerie chuckled, wincing slightly as she shifted her weight. “Thanks for the rescue.”

Judy rolled her eyes but couldn’t help the fond smile that tugged at her lips. She turned toward her partner, wrapping an arm around her waist, guiding her gently down the dim hallway. The adrenaline from the match still buzzed faintly in her veins, but the worry in her chest remained heavier.

“Does it hurt?”

“I’m fine,” Valerie murmured, her voice quieter now, the exhaustion threading through it unmistakable.

Judy pressed a kiss to her temple, lingering just a second longer than necessary. “Let’s get back to the hotel,” she whispered. “You can prove just how fine you are after you get some sleep.”

The bathroom had fallen silent, the steady hum of Judy’s electric toothbrush fading into memory. She rinsed her mouth, then leaned over the sink, cupping cool water in her palms before splashing it against her face. The sensation was sharp, shocking her senses awake, but not enough to shake off the lingering tension curled deep in her muscles. The match had wound her tight, leaving something restless beneath her skin, a thrumming unease that no amount of rinsing, no amount of careful, measured motions could fully cleanse.

She exhaled slowly, pressing a towel to her face, feeling the damp fabric absorb the last traces of the day. It helped, a little. The quiet helped. But something still lingered.

When she switched off the bathroom light and stepped into the bedroom, she stopped in the doorway, her breath catching before she even realized why.

Valerie was sprawled across the bed, the sheets tangled loosely around her legs. She looked comfortable in a way that made Judy’s chest ache, an old t-shirt hanging loose off her frame, boxers slung low on her hips. One hand held a book, her fingers resting against its spine, while the other toyed idly with a coin, the metal flashing in the faint light as it flicked and spun between her knuckles with practiced ease.

Judy leaned against the doorframe, arms folding loosely, just watching. There was something about the stillness of the moment, the way Valerie’s eyes tracked steadily over the pages, the faint furrow in her brow betraying her focus. Her blue hair was a mess against the pillow, some strands catching the light, others lost in shadow, half-tamed and wholly perfect. The soft rustle of paper, the rhythmic flick of the coin - it all felt hypnotic, like a scene pulled from a dream, something fragile and fleeting.

Judy’s breath hitched, caught somewhere between awe and aching. She wished she could hold onto this moment, lock it away, keep it safe. She wanted to believe they had forever - to believe that she would always have nights like this, standing in the doorway, watching Valerie exist so effortlessly in her space, filling it with that quiet, steady presence.

But beneath the warmth of the moment, something dark lingered. A shadow of fear, ever-present, whispering at the edges of her thoughts. How many more times would she get to see this? How many more nights could she curl up beside Valerie and listen to the soft cadence of her breath as she read herself to sleep? The thought of losing this - losing her - pressed against her ribs.

She bit her lip, forcing herself to focus on now. Valerie was here. With her. That was all that mattered.

The coin flicked again, catching the light, and for a second, Judy let herself be mesmerized by the motion, tracing the way it moved between Valerie’s fingers. It was effortless, casual, like second nature - just another one of those small, stupid things that Judy wanted to remember forever.

Valerie didn’t look up, but the corner of her mouth curved, just slightly. “What’s goin’ on, babe?” she drawled, amusement lacing her voice, even as her eyes stayed on the book. The coin danced once more, then flipped high before she caught it mid-air, spinning it over her knuckles again in one fluid motion. “You’re starin’ a little.”

Judy let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. “Just thinking how much I’d love for us to stay like this forever,” she murmured, the admission slipping free before she could temper it.

Valerie’s smirk deepened as she finally lifted her gaze, storm-gray eyes locking onto Judy’s with quiet intensity. There was something knowing in that look, something that made Judy feel like Val could read her thoughts even before she spoke them.

“And here I thought you were plottin’ something naughty,” she teased, her grin widening, the sharpness of it softened by the warmth in her eyes.

Judy pushed off the doorframe, crossing the room to perch on the edge of the bed. She reached out, brushing an errant strand of hair from Valerie’s forehead, letting her fingers linger for just a beat longer than necessary. “Maybe I am,” she said, her voice dipping low, tempting, but even she could hear the weight beneath the playfulness.

Valerie tilted her head slightly, studying her, before setting the book aside with deliberate slowness. “Judy Álvarez, plannin’ to break doctor’s orders?” she mused, lazy amusement laced through her tone. “Damn. Guess I really am a bad influence.”

Judy huffed a quiet laugh. “Oh, I’ve always been bad,” she countered, her fingers slipping beneath the hem of Valerie’s shirt, brushing lightly against warm, bare skin. She leaned in, letting her lips ghost just past Valerie’s ear as her hand slid higher. “You just haven’t seen that side of me… yet.”

She felt Valerie’s breath hitch under her touch, the smallest of reactions, but enough to send a thrill through her. The air between them shifted, charged with something that went beyond teasing - it was need, yes, but also something deeper. It was the desperate hope that intimacy could hold off the encroaching shadows. A longing to grasp, to lose themselves in each other and pretend the rest of the world didn’t exist.

For a moment, nothing else mattered.

Then, Judy’s gaze flicked down to the coin still held between Valerie’s fingers, the movement drawing her attention again. “What’s with that?” she asked, tilting her chin toward it. “Haven’t seen it before.”

Valerie twirled it once more, then flipped it high, catching it with practiced ease. “Got this before my first mission with the FIA,” she said, her voice laced with a strange mix of nostalgia and cynicism. “A little keepsake. A reminder of who’s really calling the shots.”

Judy’s fingers traced absent patterns along Valerie’s side, her touch light but thoughtful. “And you still carry it around? Why?”

“Not sure,” she admitted after a beat. “Maybe it keeps me grounded. Reminds me of what I went through. Funny thing is… that coin might not even be mine.”

Judy’s brow creased. “What do you mean?”

Val’s smirk curved at the edges, though there was something sharp beneath it. “Imagine locking a bunch of hormone-addled, adrenaline-fueled teenagers in a metal box together,” she said, the words carrying that sardonic humor Judy had come to know too well. “What do you think happens?”

“They fuck,” Judy answered dryly.

Valerie barked out a short laugh. “A lot,” she agreed. “But when you forbid them to?”

“They fuck even more?” Judy guessed, lips twitching.

“Exactly.” Valerie grinned, shaking her head. “Only, they had to get creative. When someone wanted to let off steam, they’d give you their coin. One of the letters would be marked—dented, scratched, or stained with blood, visible under ultraviolet light. N meant the north wing storage room. U was for the old trophy room—some dusty shrine to the Unification War. S? Supply closet. You get the idea.”

Judy raised an eyebrow, tilting her head in mock contemplation. “So… what you’re telling me is you were a player?”

Val shrugged, utterly unapologetic. “Come on, Jude. We thought we’d die the next day. They pumped us with every stim imaginable, shoved us into training that broke half of us, and made sure the rest were too numb to care. The pressure was enough to crack anyone. You either found a way to let it out… or you’d explode.”

Judy hummed, her fingers still idly tracing the dips and planes of Valerie’s bare skin. “Explode, huh?” she mused, voice lilting with amusement.

Her fingertips drifted lower, featherlight against Valerie’s ribs, her touch barely there - but enough. Valerie’s breath hitched, her smirk faltering as she sucked in a sharp inhale. The reaction sent a thrill through Judy’s body, satisfaction curling deep in her stomach.

She leaned in, letting her breath fan warm against the column of Valerie’s throat before she pressed a slow, deliberate kiss to the pulse point there. The erratic thrum beneath her lips only urged her forward. She let her teeth graze the tender skin, teasing, just shy of leaving a mark.

Valerie’s fingers slid into Judy’s hair, tightening just enough to send a pleasant shiver down her spine. “Why don’t you…” Val’s voice was low, sultry, thick with anticipation. She tilted her head, exposing more of her throat, inviting Judy to take. “Show me… how bad you can really be.”

Judy chuckled, low and warm, the sound rumbling against Valerie’s skin as she pressed her lips to the edge of a tattoo decorating her collarbone. “I don’t know if you’re ready for that,” she whispered, her voice soft yet laced with challenge.

Valerie exhaled sharply. “I’m not as fragile… as you think,” she managed, breath ragged, fingers tightening in Judy’s hair, pulling—demanding. Their mouths met in a kiss that was all fire and desperation, teeth and tongues clashing in a feverish dance that blurred the line between control and surrender.

Judy felt her grip on restraint slipping, like sand trickling through her fingers, impossible to hold onto no matter how tightly she clenched her fists. And then - she stopped trying to hold on at all. She let herself fall into the sensation, let herself drown in the heat of Valerie’s skin beneath her fingertips.

Their kiss deepened, turned messier, more desperate, and Judy’s hands moved instinctively, seeking, learning, claiming. Her fingers skimmed over the firm curve of Valerie’s breast before finding the hardened peak, rolling it between her thumb and forefinger with a slow, teasing rhythm. The sharp intake of breath against her lips sent a heat wave straight to Judy’s core, and she drank in the sound, memorizing it, savoring it.

Breaking away, she buried her face against Valerie’s neck, pressing lingering kisses along the smooth line of her throat, feeling the pulse flutter beneath her lips. Her tongue traced the ink of the tattoo that marked Valerie’s skin, her teeth following close behind, nipping lightly, drawing out another shiver. Valerie’s fingers tangled in her hair, pulling just enough to send a delicious sting through her scalp, grounding her in the moment.

It was slowly becoming a wildfire, a growing tension that neither seemed eager to ease. Judy’s touch grew bolder, her fingers twisting, pinching, kneading. Valerie gasped sharply, her body arching into her without hesitation, her need laid bare. The sound of her name, rasped in a hoarse, needy voice, sent a rush of satisfaction through Judy.

"Drivin’ me crazy, Jude…"

Judy hummed, dragging her fingers to the other breast, circling the nipple before giving it the same treatment, a slow, deliberate twist. “Good,” she whispered. “That’s the idea.”

The teasing should’ve been enough, but she wanted more - needed more. She lowered her mouth, sinking her teeth into the tender skin just below Valerie’s jaw, biting down just hard enough to earn a sharp gasp. A moment later, she soothed the mark with the warmth of her tongue, letting herself savor the way Valerie’s body reacted to her every movement.

Val’s fingers dug into Judy’s back in response, nails grazing skin, the pressure sparking an exquisite contrast to the tender assault of lips and tongue. Judy didn’t stop. Her lips and teeth moved with purpose, exploring the line of Valerie’s collarbone. Her tongue traced lazy, meandering circles over the sensitive skin, earning another shiver from the woman beneath her.

She pushed Valerie’s shirt higher, impatient now, desperate to see her - to feel her. But as the fabric bunched up, as more of Valerie’s skin was revealed beneath the dim glow of the bedside lamp, something stopped her cold.

A bruise. Large, deepening in color, a sickly yellow blooming across Valerie’s ribs like some cruel echo of pain.

Judy froze. The air in her lungs turned solid, unmoving, as though the world had shifted on its axis. The sight of it - of this evidence of what Valerie had endured for Judy - cut through her haze like a blade. Her fingers stilled, her entire body going rigid as a wave of nausea rolled through her. The room dimmed at the edges, narrowing until all she could see was that bruise, the way it marred the expanse of her partner’s skin, a phantom ache forming in her own ribs in sympathy.

Valerie whimpered softly at the loss of touch, shifting beneath her. That sound - so small, so vulnerable - pierced through the fog of Judy’s shock. But she couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe.

A hand found her chin, tilting her face upward. Valerie’s eyes, sharp and steady, locked onto hers. “Hey, babe,” she murmured, voice low, grounding. “It’s okay. You’re not hurting me.”

Judy’s lips parted, but no sound came. The pressure in her chest swelled, threatening to break her apart. Her vision blurred as tears welled up, distorting Valerie’s face, turning the bruise into an ugly smear of color that only made everything worse. Her heart pounded painfully against her ribs, a frantic rhythm of fear and guilt. The weight of it - of everything - pressed down on her chest until it felt hard to breathe.

She should’ve known. Should’ve asked, should’ve been more careful. How much more could Valerie take? How much more would she be forced to endure?

Valerie’s hand moved to her jaw, thumb brushing lightly against her cheekbone. “Hey. No. Don’t cry.”

But it was too late - she was already unraveling.

Judy tried to fight it back, the sob that clawed its way up her throat, but it slipped out anyway, a quiet, broken sound that made her hate herself for being so damn weak. It wasn’t supposed to be about her. It was Valerie’s body on the line, Valerie who carried the weight of everything, and here she was, falling apart at the sight of a bruise.

She wanted to stop. Needed to. But the tears wouldn’t listen, slipping past her defenses, burning hot as they streaked down her face.

Valerie sat up slowly, guiding Judy with her, shifting until they were facing each other. She cupped Judy’s face between her hands, her touch warm, steady, as if she could hold Judy together just by sheer will. “It’s okay,” she whispered. “This doesn’t hurt. I promise.”

But it did hurt. It hurt like hell.

Judy clenched her jaw, swallowing down another sob, but her girlfriend saw right through her. She always did.

“C’mere,” Valerie murmured, and then she was pulling Judy against her, wrapping her in strong arms, pressing a kiss against her temple. Judy collapsed into her, burying her face in the crook of Valerie’s neck, letting herself get lost in the warmth, the steady, rhythmic rise and fall of her breath.

Valerie stroked her hair, slow, soothing. “Shh,” she whispered. “We’re okay. It’s all gonna be okay.”

Chapter Text

Chapter XXI | Arcade
All I know - loving you is a losing game.

The seconds bled into minutes, each one thick with the weight of what was coming. The tunnel was narrow, dim, charged with the restless energy of two teams poised on the brink of war. Beyond the concrete walls, the stadium pulsed - a distant roar of voices, the steady pound of drums reverberating through steel and stone. The air carried the crisp bite of the night, but Judy barely felt it. Heat thrummed beneath her skin, a restless current of adrenaline winding tight in her muscles.

She shifted on her feet, rolling her shoulders, exhaling slow through her nose. This was it. A semifinal that would either carve their path to the championship - or crush it beneath someone else’s boots.

But as much as she felt the weight of the game, she knew it was nothing compared to what Valerie carried.

Judy’s gaze settled on her girlfriend’s back, taking in the rigid set of her shoulders, the slight, near-imperceptible tremor in her fingers as they curled and uncurled at her sides. Valerie’s jersey clung to the lean lines of her body, dark against the flushed skin of her neck. Her eyes were fixed downward, anchored to some invisible point on the concrete floor, as if grounding herself against the pressure bearing down on her.

Judy knew that look. Knew the way Valerie’s mind worked, how she could slip into herself, press her emotions into tight, impenetrable spaces when the stakes climbed too high. And this wasn’t just about football. After all, this wasn’t just another game. It wasn’t just about making it to the finals. There was something much deeper, something far more dangerous at play.

Judy’s stomach twisted as her gaze flicked toward the French captain, Aurore, standing at the front of the line. She was the reason they were here. Why Valerie had to be here. The FIA had their claws in Val now, and if she didn’t finish what they set in motion, they wouldn’t give her what she needed - the surgery, the sliver of a chance to outrun the death sentence lurking in her head.

It made Judy sick. Made her hands curl into fists. Valerie would never say it, would never admit just how much it was crushing her, but Judy could see it, feel it in the way her body held itself like a blade drawn tight.

She wouldn’t let her face it alone.

Moving without thinking, Judy closed the space between them. She couldn’t let her girlfriend drown in the overwhelming tide of her own thoughts. She slid her arms around Valerie’s waist from behind, pulling her in, pressing herself flush against the tense line of her back. Rising onto her tiptoes, Judy brushed her lips against the back of her partner’s neck, a tender kiss meant to remind her that she wasn’t alone, that whatever happened, they were in this together.

Valerie inhaled sharply, the breath catching in her throat. She remained stiff for a moment, still caught in whatever storm was raging inside her, but Judy didn’t let go. She tightened her hold, her fingers brushing slow, comforting circles along Valerie’s stomach. She kissed her again, letting her presence speak the words she didn’t need to say aloud.

She felt the shift before she saw it. The slow, exhaled breath. The fraction of tension easing from Valerie’s body, like an iron weight uncoiling from her spine. It wasn’t much, but it was something.

A few eyes flicked toward them - curious glances from the French players, a flicker of disapproval from someone further down the line - but Judy didn’t give a shit. Let them stare. Let them think whatever they wanted.

Right now, only one thing mattered.

Valerie turned her head slightly, just enough for Judy to catch the faintest curve of her lips, a ghost of a smirk breaking through the haze. It was small, fleeting - but it was real. Undeniable sign that the tempest raging inside her was beginning to calm. Seeing that flicker of peace, Judy’s heart swelled with a profound sense of love and pride.

The whistle echoed down the tunnel, sharp and final. The call to battle.

The match had been a war. A brutal, unrelenting test of endurance, skill and sheer willpower. Seventy minutes of clawing for every inch, of bodies colliding, of muscles stretched past their limits. The scoreboard remained locked at 2-2, an unforgiving deadlock, and the weight of it pressed down on Judy like a physical force. She could see it in her teammates too - the fatigue in their eyes, the slight hesitation in their movements. The field was littered with exhaustion, but the tension - that electric, suffocating tension - was the real enemy now. It crackled in the air, thick enough to choke on.

Judy wiped a slick layer of sweat from her forehead and steadied her breath. She stood over the ball, heart hammering, hands clenched at her sides as she readied herself for the free kick. This could be it. The moment that would change everything. Her gaze flickered across the field, past the shifting wall of defenders, to the goal that stood waiting. This was what she had trained for, dreamed about since she was a kid playing on cracked asphalt back in Laguna Bend.

But just as she bent down to position the ball, something flashed in the corner of her eye - the substitution board. Her heart dropped like a stone when she registered the numbers glaring in red and green. Daphne, or rather Alex, was being replaced by Bianca.

No. No, no, no. This wasn’t supposed to happen.

The field, the game, the stadium - all of it seemed to tilt around her as realization crashed in. Alex had to stay on the pitch. She wasn’t just another player. She was part of the plan. She was scanning Aurore as well. Her presence was the difference between survival and disaster.

And now she was walking off.

Judy’s eyes darted toward the sideline, catching Alex mid-stride, her expression twisted in frustration as she stalked toward the dugout. Valerie was already moving, sweat-soaked blue hair plastered to her forehead, exhaustion evident in every step. She intercepted Alex, their heads close together as they exchanged hurried words - words Judy couldn’t hear over the pounding of her own pulse and the roar of the crowd. But she didn’t need to. The look on Val’s face told her everything. The tightness around her mouth, the desperate way she shook her head.

The scan wasn’t done.

Judy felt ice flood her veins. Her hands trembled. Her breath came shallow and quick. This wasn’t just about a game anymore. This was about Valerie’s life. This was about the future they had barely begun to build. Late nights tangled together, mornings filled with lazy kisses, the simple, quiet life they had promised each other - every bit of it was slipping through Judy’s fingers like sand.

She wasn’t ready to let it go. She wasn’t ready to lose Valerie. Not like this.

But Alex was gone. The mission was falling apart. And Judy was running out of time.

Val looked up, their eyes meeting across the field. The exhaustion in her girlfriend’s expression was impossible to miss, but it was the fear beneath it that cut deeper than anything else. Judy had never seen her look like this before. Valerie didn’t usually do fear. She smirked in the face of danger, laughed when the odds were against her. But now? Now, her hands trembled, her shoulders sagged, and the fire in her eyes had dulled to something fragile.

And Judy knew. She felt it too. The helplessness. The panic. They were both standing at the edge of something far more dangerous than losing a match. It was life or death now. And the clock was ticking.

Judy had to do something. For a moment, she stood frozen, her mind scrambling for answers, for a way out, a solution, anything. Her focus was fractured, overwhelmed by the sheer weight of what was happening. It all seemed so distant now. What mattered was Valerie, and if they failed, if they couldn’t pull this off, Judy didn’t know what she’d do.

A sharp whistle cut through the noise, snapping her back to the present. The free kick. The game was still on, even if everything inside her screamed that it shouldn’t be.

"Alvy." A familiar voice beside her. A steady hand on her shoulder, grounding her. Panam. "You okay? Want me to take the kick?"

Judy shook her head. "No, I’ve got this."

But did she? She knew, with brutal certainty, that if she made this shot - if she sent the ball soaring into the back of the net - Valerie would only have twenty minutes left to finish the scan. Twenty minutes that Judy knew weren’t enough. The clock was their enemy, ticking down with ruthless indifference. And if they won here? If the final whistle blew and the game ended now?

Then Valerie was as good as dead.

They needed more time. They needed extra time. They needed… overtime.

Judy clenched her jaw. Her mind warred against itself, a voice – voice of a younger, hungrier version of herself - screaming that this was everything she had worked for. This was her shot, her moment, the culmination of years of sacrifice. She had spent endless hours after trainings perfecting her shots, pushing herself harder than anyone else. She studied old matches, memorizing tactics and strategies, planning for a day like this. She had worked for this moment. So hard.

World Champion. The words rang in her mind, the image of lifting that trophy, of being the best in the world, flickering like a phantom before her eyes. This was her dream.

But right now, her dreams didn’t matter. Because if she did what she wanted - if she kicked that ball past the goalkeeper - she would be condemning Valerie. And Judy knew, with a painful certainty, that she could score from there. She had trained her entire life for this. That free kick was hers, and she could land it perfectly, just as she had done a thousand times before.

But none of it would mean a thing. Not if she lost Valerie.

She stepped back, lined up her shot, felt the weight of thousands of eyes on her. The pressure coiled around her, suffocating. Her muscles tensed, coiled, prepared to strike.

And then she took the shot.

The ball sailed through the air, curving beautifully, a textbook strike... until it veered just wide of the goalpost, missing by mere inches. The collective gasp of the crowd echoed around her, the sharp exhale of disbelief. But Judy let out a slow breath of her own, her heart pounding for an entirely different reason. She had missed. The game would go on. Overtime was still in reach.

Exactly as she intended.

But as she stood there, chest rising and falling with uneven breaths, something inside her twisted. A bitter, hollow ache that dug into her ribs and made her stomach churn. The weight of her decision settled in, heavier than ever. Regret. Anger. A deep sense of betrayal, not toward Val, but toward herself. She had spent her entire life dreaming of this moment - of winning, of claiming victory, of becoming the best in the world.

And she had just thrown it away.

For Valerie.

This was the price she had chosen to pay. And as much as she loved her, Judy knew this feeling wouldn’t go away. The sour aftertaste of putting everything on the line for someone else. The gnawing sense that maybe, just maybe, she had given up too much. And she wasn’t sure she would ever be able to silence that voice inside her.

The final minutes of overtime stretched endlessly, each passing second drawn out by the unbearable weight of expectation. The score remained locked, unyielding, as if fate itself refused to tip the balance. Every player on the field, battered and bruised from over two hours of grueling, unrelenting play, was running on sheer will alone. Every muscle in Judy’s body screamed with exhaustion, her legs felt like lead, her lungs burned with each breath, but the physical pain was nothing compared to the storm raging inside her mind.

Somewhere in the haze, she registered the shifting tide of the game. The ball had swung back to the French side, and Valerie was already there, closing in like a tornado rolling in over open water. Judy’s eyes found her across the pitch, her body moving with the same lethal grace as always, but something about her felt… off. Her focus wasn’t just sharp - it was cutting. Dangerous.

Judy barely had time to process it before Valerie struck.

The impact was brutal - shoulder colliding with ribs, a reckless, calculated force that sent Aurore crumpling to the grass with a strangled cry. The sharp trill of the referee’s whistle cut through the chaos like a blade, the yellow card flashing bright against the stadium lights.

A warning, a line drawn in the sand. It could have been red. Easily. And that would mean they would need to finish the game without one player. It would mean a suspension. 

Judy expected frustration, maybe even a flicker of regret on Valerie’s face. But instead, her girlfriend was smiling. It wasn’t the grin of someone caught up in the adrenaline of the match. It wasn’t cocky, wasn’t defiant. It was triumphant. Something dark flickered in her gray eyes as she jogged back toward Judy, her expression alight with a satisfaction that sent a chill creeping down Judy’s spine.

"The scan’s complete," Valerie murmured as she reached her, barely containing the manic relief in her voice.

For a moment, Judy didn’t understand. The words didn’t belong here, not in this game, not in this moment. Didn’t make any sense. But then, the realization struck. The scan was done. The mission was over. Valerie was safe. Her life no longer hanging by the thread of this deadly, absurd game the FIA had been playing with them.

Judy should have felt relief, even joy. Instead, a hollow dread settled in her chest, cold and deep. Valerie didn’t even think about consequences, about the final match. Judy’s ambitions didn’t matter.

The roar of the crowd pressed in around her, deafening, but it felt distant - like background noise in a world she no longer belonged to. She looked at Valerie again, at the wild elation in her eyes, and for the first time, she felt no connection to it. Valerie had won. But at what cost?

Regret coiled tight around her ribs. Judy had given everything for this moment. She had sacrificed her dreams, her identity, the love she had for the game, all for Valerie. Reduced to a mere pawn in some grand, shadowy scheme.

For the first time, she allowed herself to acknowledge what had been gnawing at her for weeks - that the pitch no longer felt like home. The grandest stage in the world, the dream she had chased since she was a child, it all felt like a cruel illusion now.

She had been so consumed with protecting Valerie, with doing whatever was necessary to save her, that she’d lost sight of herself completely. She had come so close, but in the end, she had been forced to make a choice. And that choice had torn something irreparable inside her.

And the worst part? She wasn’t sure if she’d ever find her way back.

A loud whistle blew, marking the end of overtime. The scoreboard remained unchanged, its frozen numbers casting a verdict that stretched the match into penalties. Around her, the stadium pulsed with energy, an ocean of voices rising and crashing in waves of cheers and tension. But Judy stood still, drowning in a silence of her own making.

She should have felt something - relief, maybe even a sliver of hope. Instead, all that settled in her chest was an aching hollowness, a space where conviction had once lived. Valerie stood beside her, breathing hard, her lips parted in an exhilarated grin. But Judy’s gaze was distant, unfocused. She had done what was necessary, played the part assigned to her, yet now that the mission was over, regret gnawed at her insides. She had been a tool. A means to an end. And now, she wasn’t even sure what that end was supposed to be.

The weight of it dragged at her as she moved toward the huddle, her steps heavier than before. The final act of this twisted game was about to begin, but she could no longer bring herself to care. It was as if something inside her had broken. What had once been her dream had turned into a nightmare, and no matter the outcome of these penalties, she knew something had been lost - something that no victory could ever bring back.

The team circled up, their faces tense with the weight of what came next. They exchanged nods, murmured brief reassurances, but Judy felt separate from them, standing just outside the reach.

Her eyes drifted to Valerie, who was still catching her breath. The wild smile that had flashed across the striker’s face earlier was gone now, replaced by a more sober, almost weary expression. Judy swallowed hard, trying to bury the rising tide of emotion, to focus on the penalties. But the weight of her choices clung to her, suffocating any attempt at concentration.

The whistle sliced through the tension, a razor-edged call to battle. Panam stepped forward first, her jaw clenched, her focus unwavering. A sharp inhale, a decisive kick, and the ball hit the back of the net. The crowd roared, but it was fleeting. The French striker took her turn, her shot just as precise, just as merciless.

The pressure was mounting, building like a storm in Judy’s chest as her turn crept closer. She could feel it in her bones, a weight pressing down on her. When her name was called, it was as though the world collapsed in on itself. The roar of the crowd, the distant figures of her teammates - they all melted away until it was just her, the ball, and the goal. She couldn’t meet her teammates’ eyes, afraid of what she might see. Disappointment. Fear. Expectations she wasn’t sure she could meet anymore.

The ball waited for her, still and expectant. Her hands trembled as she adjusted her stance. Just her and the goal. That was all that mattered.

But in the last fraction of a second, something inside her snapped. Frustration, fear, all the guilt she had bottled up throughout the game came rushing to the surface in a surge of uncontrollable emotion. She kicked the ball too hard, the force of it propelled by a flood of irritation and pain.

She knew the miss before she even looked. The ball soared over the crossbar, a fraction too high, a fraction too wide. The collective groan of the crowd stretched out into eternity, a sound that echoed through every hollow space inside her.

She couldn’t believe it. She missed. She cost them the finals. She gave up on her dreams.

Judy turned away, heart hammering against her ribs, breath coming in sharp, ragged bursts. Shame curled around her like smoke, clinging to her skin, seeping into her bones. Her legs felt like they were made of stone as she made her way back to the team. She couldn’t look at anyone, her eyes fixed on the ground, every step dragging her deeper into the pit of regret. She had let them down. Let herself down.

Footsteps. A familiar presence at her side. Judy braced for pity, for frustration, for some soft-spoken attempt at comfort that would only make the ache worse. But Valerie simply slid her hand into hers, warm and steady.

“We’ve got this, babe,” she murmured, voice low, meant only for Judy. “Becca’s got the next one. You’ll see.”

Judy could feel the sting of tears welling up, her throat tightening painfully. She wanted to believe Val’s words, to cling to the hope that they weren’t out of the fight yet, that she didn’t just cost them the finals, but the well of sorrow inside her was too deep. She squeezed her hand, but the gesture felt empty, drained of conviction. She couldn’t bring herself to answer, couldn’t find the words that wouldn’t feel like a lie. The exhaustion that gripped her wasn’t just physical. It ran deeper than that, coiling around something fundamental inside her and squeezing until there was nothing left.

Rebecca took her place in goal. Judy couldn’t look. She kept her gaze locked on the ground, unable to bear witness to whatever came next. Silence. A moment of unbearable stillness.

And then, an eruption of sound. Wild. Victorious.

She lifted her head, blinking against the brightness of the stadium lights, the dizzying rush of movement around her. Rebecca had made the save.

Valerie’s grip tightened, pulling her back into the moment. “We’re still in the fight, Jude.”

Judy barely managed a nod. She couldn’t even lift her head to meet her girlfriend’s gaze. The numbness weighed too heavily on her, spreading deeper with every second. The celebration roared on around them, but it felt distant, as if it belonged to someone else. She stood there, drained and empty, her mind consumed by the bitter realization that no matter what happened, a part of her had been lost on that field. A part of her that she might never get back.

After couple more rounds the roar of the stadium faded into a low, distant hum. Valerie stepped forward, moving toward the ball with the same calm, measured confidence she carried into every fight. If she scored, they would win it. There was no hesitation in her steps, no flicker of doubt. It was as if the weight of the moment didn’t even touch her.

Judy watched, her breath caught in her throat, as Valerie lined up her shot. She moved with the cool assurance of someone who already knew how the story would end. Her foot connected with the ball, and it rocketed toward the goal with the kind of speed and accuracy that didn’t just seem perfect - it seemed unreal. The ball soared into the top corner of the net, hitting its mark with a flawless precision.

The shot was perfect. Almost too perfect.

The stadium exploded in celebration. They won. She made it happen. Teammates rushed forward. Valerie turned, fists clenched in triumph, face alight with victory. And yet, as Judy stood there, surrounded by the echoes of cheers and elation, something cold and sharp took root inside her. It started as a whisper, a fleeting thought, but it grew louder, more insistent with each passing second. A nagging suspicion.

The shot had been too perfect.

Did Valerie use her cyberware?

She hated herself for even considering it. Hated that the distrust had wormed its way into her mind. But she had seen what Valerie’s augmentations could do. Had witnessed firsthand the way they made her faster, stronger, more precise than any human had a right to be.

Judy clenched her fists, a bitter taste rising in her throat. She wanted to trust Valerie, to believe that the woman she loved wouldn’t break the promise she had made - to leave the chrome out of this. This was supposed to be fair. She had given everything for this, sacrificed part of herself - for Valerie, for her survival. And now, she wasn’t even sure if this victory was real.

As Valerie turned back to her, smile softening, reaching for her hand again, Judy felt something inside her twist. The anger was there now, simmering just beneath the surface. Not loud. Not explosive. But deep, creeping, seeping into the spaces where trust should have been.

The crowd cheered. The stadium roared.

But Judy could only hear the quiet, gnawing whisper of doubt.

The locker room pulsed with celebration, a chaotic symphony of laughter, voices rising over one another, the sharp clang of lockers slamming shut. Sweat-soaked jerseys landed in careless heaps, tangled with towels and socks across the floor, the acrid scent of exertion and victory thick in the air. The energy crackled, uncontainable, running wild in the space between bodies, between shouts and backslaps and triumph-drunk grins.

None of it touched Judy.

She sat hunched over on the wooden bench, elbows braced against her knees, fingers laced loosely between them. Her eyes fixed on the floor as if, with enough focus, the answers she couldn’t find might reveal themselves in the scuffed tiles. The sound around her blurred, as though muffled by distance, dulled into an indistinct hum. She was here, sitting in the middle of it all, but it might as well have been happening in another room, another world. The walls around her felt glass-like - thin but impenetrable, sealing her away from the rush of adrenaline and euphoria.

They had won.

The game was over. The mission was over. And yet, the victory rang hollow in her chest. She had given everything, every part of herself, poured herself into the fight and found, at the end of it, there was nothing left. She felt emptied out. The weight of it all pressed down on her - her decisions, her sacrifices, the goals she hadn’t scored, the trust she couldn’t shake the doubt from. Now, in the dying roar of the locker room, that hollowness was the only thing she could feel.

She didn’t know how long she sat there, lost in that quiet, widening void. When she finally lifted her gaze from the ground, the locker room had shifted around her. The storm of post-game revelry had begun to ebb. Most of the team had shed their uniforms, slipping into regular clothes, their conversations drifting toward plans for the night, the bus ride back to the hotel, the next game. The voices still carried the afterglow of victory, light and careless. One by one, in pairs or small clusters, they filed toward the exit, the door swinging open and shut in rhythmic bursts, their laughter spilling into the hallway before fading into the distance.

Judy exhaled slowly, her fingers trailing idle, invisible patterns over the wooden bench. She was floating somewhere between exhaustion and something deeper, something heavier that pressed against the edges of her ribs, unfamiliar yet painfully known.

And then, she felt a presence beside her. She looked up, slower than she meant to, and there was Valerie - standing over her, grinning wide enough to light up the whole damn room.

Her blue hair was damp from the shower, curling slightly at the ends, loose strands clinging to the side of her neck. A gym bag slung over her shoulder, the weight of it barely noticeable. She still hummed with the electricity of the match, the thrill of victory burning bright in her storm-gray eyes, and for a moment, just a brief flicker, Judy wished she could feel it too.

“Hey, Jude.” Val’s voice was light, easy, as if nothing had changed - as if Judy wasn’t sitting there, drowning in a weight she hadn’t figured out how to name yet. “I gotta see Reed real quick. Shouldn’t take long, but in case it does, don’t wait up. You look beat—get some rest, yeah?”

Judy stared at her. Her brain felt slow, sluggish, the words taking longer than they should to settle.

Reed.

Of course. The mission. The real reason Valerie was here in the first place. The real game buried beneath the noise of the tournament, beneath the bright lights and roaring crowds and ninety minutes of pretending like any of this had been normal. The real thing, the only thing that actually mattered to Valerie.

Judy nodded, the movement automatic, instinctive. Valerie didn’t seem to notice the delay. Her smirk never wavered. She reached out, a fleeting touch - a pat to Judy’s shoulder, light and casual - before she turned and walked off, disappearing into the shifting bodies heading for the exit. The door swung shut behind her, sealing Judy into the sudden quiet.

She didn’t move. Didn’t call her back.

She hadn’t said anything. Hadn’t found the words. But Valerie hadn’t noticed. Hadn’t seen the way Judy’s shoulders sat just a little too tense, hadn’t notice the hurt barely concealed beneath the surface, hadn’t caught the hollowness behind her eyes. Val hadn’t realized that Judy wasn’t tired - she was unraveling.

The locker room was nearly empty now, its lingering echoes of celebration replaced by a heavy, oppressive silence that seemed to press against Judy’s very soul. Only Meredith and Rita remained. Meredith was tugging on her jeans, laughing at something she’d said, her voice floating in the quiet, casual and carefree. Rita’s chuckle followed, ringing out, full of life and ease, a stark contrast to the heavy, suffocating tension that had wrapped itself around Judy like an iron chain.

Judy couldn’t join them. She couldn’t even bring herself to smile. She sat slumped on a bench by her locker, her gaze fixed on the worn floor, feeling the relentless ache of loss and betrayal gnawing at her. It was as if a vital piece of herself had been ripped away - the goal she hadn’t scored, the decision that had cost her more than she could bear - and now that weight pressed down on her with every breath.

She had held it together for so long, pushed down every doubt, every fear, but now - now it was too much. The walls around her seemed to close in. The numbness she had clung to all evening shattered in an instant and before she could contain it any longer, the dam of pent-up emotion shattered.

Tears began to stream down her cheeks, hot and unbidden, as she buried her face in her trembling hands. Sobs wracked her body, each one raw and desperate, until she felt as though she was collapsing under the crushing pressure of her own grief. In the midst of that overwhelming despair, she barely noticed when Rita approached. It wasn’t until she felt a soft pressure on her thigh.

Looking up through tear-blurred eyes, she found Rita kneeling before her, still wrapped in a towel, her expression tender and searching. “Hey,” Rita whispered, her voice gentle enough to seem to caress Judy’s ears. “What’s going on?”

For a long moment, Judy could only choke out broken gasps before the words finally tumbled from her lips, laden with guilt and regret. “I should’ve scored that goal,” she murmured, voice thick with sorrow.

Rita tilted her head, a kind, understanding smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “Judy, it’s okay,” she soothed, her tone soothing. “We won. That missed penalty doesn’t mean anythin’ now.”

Judy shook her head, biting back another wave of tears. Rita didn’t understand. It wasn’t the penalty kick she meant, but the free kick earlier - the moment when she’d sacrificed so much of herself for Valerie’s sake. The moment she’d chosen to let go of the one thing that made her feel like herself. The kick that could’ve sealed their fate long before penalties even became a factor.

She couldn’t bring herself to reveal the truth, not when it might endanger them both further. She coudn’t drag Rita into this whole nightmare, to reveal what she had done and why she did it, even though the truth was clawing at her throat. She swallowed it down, feeling it burn as it stayed trapped inside her.

Rita’s grip on Judy’s knee tightened in silent reassurance. “We’re on track for the finals,” she said softly. “We won, ‘kay? You did your part. And now, we’re goin’ to crush Japan in the finals. We’re gonna be world champions, Cap.”

Judy tried to nod, clinging to her friend’s calm as an anchor amid the swirling chaos. Gradually, her sobs subsided, leaving her breathing heavily but a little more steadily.

After a moment, the defender rose to her feet, giving Judy’s knee one last comforting squeeze before she moved to the showers, the sound of water soon filling the quiet space. Judy sat there, alone again, her chest still aching, but the storm inside her had calmed to a dull roar.

Just then, Meredith’s voice cut through the quiet like a blade.

“You’re gonna be okay, kid,” she said, stepping closer. Her tone was low, direct, and there was something about it that made Judy look up, startled. Meredith had been watching and waiting. Her eyes - steady and perceptive - locked onto Judy’s, and in that moment, a heavy truth passed silently between them. “That feeling is gonna pass. Remember who you did it for.”

Judy’s throat tightened, the words hanging in the air. She blinked, her heart pounding painfully. For a second, it felt like the world had tilted. Meredith’s words hung in the air, cryptic yet heavy with meaning. Did Stout know? How much had she seen? Did she truly know what had been happening behind the scenes?

But before Judy could form a question, Meredith straightened up and turned on her heel, disappearing quietly out the door, leaving Judy alone with her thoughts and the aching void of loss.

Judy sat curled in the far corner of the bed, her back pressed to the headboard, knees drawn halfway to her chest, as though making herself smaller might quiet the noise in her head. The pale, flickering light of the television cast shifting shadows across her face. She clicked through the channels with a kind of restless urgency, her thumb moving with mechanical precision, flipping past garish sitcoms and hollow news reels. None of it stuck. Every image, every voice was a blur, noise she couldn't make herself care about.

She wasn't watching. She was hiding. She desperately sought distraction.

Her mind circled back again and again, unable to let go of the match, of the moment that had cost her something she couldn’t quite name. It pressed down on her chest like a weight, like breath that wouldn’t come. No matter how fast the pictures changed on the screen, they couldn't outrun the thoughts clawing at her from the inside.

She’d told herself it was the right call. That she hadn’t had a choice. Valerie’s life had been the only thing that mattered. That fucking shard ticking down inside her like a bomb with a digital timer. Logically, that was the only decision she could make. Judy had sacrificed her own dreams for Valerie’s survival.  Even if it meant letting go of the one clean, honest moment she’d fought for her entire life.

They’d won. The team had edged forward, one step closer to the championship. But the victory tasted like rust in her mouth.

She could never get that shot back. That singular moment to prove herself - to feel the roar of the crowd, to make that shot for herself, to take the win on her own terms, to do it fairly. She’d given it up. And for what? A dark plot where nothing seemed right, where she was a mere pawn. She couldn’t shake the hollow feeling that clung to her ribs like frostbite.

No. She did it for Val. That part, at least, was one hundred percent true.

But then there was that other question, the one that twisted her insides even more. Had Valerie kept her word? Judy had seen the penalty kick - seen the way Val’s foot struck the ball, the almost unnatural trajectory, too clean, too sharp. It had looked… calculated. Not the way Valerie usually played. And hadn’t she sworn she’d disabled the cyberware? Sworn she wouldn’t use it?

Judy wanted to believe her. Needed to. But not knowing was worse than any answer. The silence around it rotted like something left too long in the sun. It ate away at her resolve, at the edges of her trust, and left her wondering whether she’d been the only one to sacrifice something out there on the field.

The door opened, and Judy flinched at the sound.

Valerie swept into the room like a gust of wind, all blue hair and boundless energy, her presence filling the space before Judy could even take a full breath. She moved with a lightness Judy couldn’t match, a brightness that didn’t belong in the storm cloud of her thoughts. Val’s boots thudded softly on the floor as she crossed the room, her grin wide, her eyes alight with something warm and real.

She dropped onto the edge of the bed beside her, practically bouncing. “It’s done!” she said, her voice bubbling over. “Reed just confirmed it—surgery’s scheduled in a few days. It’s happening, Jude. We’re in the clear. We did it. Everything’s gonna be alright.”

Joy, raw and unfiltered, spilled out of her like sunlight through a crack in the blinds. Judy felt its warmth brush her skin - but it didn’t reach her bones. Her stomach twisted, the old dread curling tighter, and she dropped her gaze to the blanket draped over her legs. She couldn’t look at her partner, couldn’t face that grin with everything twisting inside her.

Val’s words felt distant, like a broadcast from another room. Like it was meant for another version of Judy, a version that wasn’t drowning in guilt and regret. A version of her that wasn’t questioning everything. Maybe it would fit in a parallel universe where none of this weight existed. Where the decisions hadn’t cost so much. Where doubt hadn’t rooted itself in Judy’s heart like a splinter she couldn’t dig out.

The silence between them stretched. Valerie's joy dimmed, just slightly, the corners of her smile faltering. She reached out gently, her fingers brushing Judy’s arm, careful, hesitant. “Jude?” she said, her voice soft now. “What’s going on? You look… off. I thought you’d be happy.”

Judy’s hand clenched around the edge of the blanket, the fabric twisting in her grip. Her throat worked uselessly for a reply, but no words came. What was she supposed to say? That the victory felt empty? That something inside her had splintered with that final whistle - something she wasn’t sure would mend? That she'd given up a part of herself, and she wasn’t sure if the person sitting beside her still understood what that meant?

She wanted to speak. God, she needed to. But the truth felt like shattered glass in her mouth. Too sharp to swallow. Too dangerous to let out. So, she said nothing. She sat in silence, watching the shadows stretch long against the far wall. And in that silence, something between them began to shift - fragile and tremulous - like a thread pulled too taut.

Valerie’s hand found hers. It was warm. Steady. Her thumb brushed against Judy’s knuckles, gentle, exploring, reassuring.

“Jude,” she said softly, “talk to me.”

Judy swallowed, hard. Her voice, when it came, was frayed and unsteady. “I thought you’d be packing already,” she murmured, her gaze fixed on the blanket between them. “Figured you’d be headed back to States the second you had the chance.”

Val blinked, brows pulling together in quiet confusion. “We’ve still got the final,” she said, her voice uncertain - like she was fumbling for a thread of logic that no longer existed between them. “It’s not over yet.”

Judy’s gaze lifted, slow and reluctant. Their eyes met, and something in her chest ached at the open concern she found there. “Does it even matter?” she asked, the words low, bitter on her tongue. “Because right now it doesn’t feel like it.”

She saw it then - the change in Valerie’s expression flickered. The confusion gave way to something deeper, something that hurt. Her shoulders slumped, just barely, the crack in her joy unmistakable.

“Of course it matters,” she said quietly. “Jude, you’ve been chasing this dream your whole damn life. Since you were a kid on that busted pitch, kicking garbage balls into rusted-out goals. Since you made your first team. Since you scored your first goal. This is it—the championship, everything you’ve ever wanted. You’re here. We’re here. Why are you saying this like none of it matters anymore?”

Judy clenched her jaw, the words bubbling inside her, bitter and hot. Her voice was low, even, but she felt the tremor beneath it. “Did you use your cyberware to win us that game?”

Valerie stilled. The question hung in the air like smoke - acrid, accusatory.

The silence stretched, taut as wire. Judy hated the sound of it. The lack of sound.

She didn’t want to ask - hadn’t wanted to - but the doubt had lodged itself deep, festering quietly, until it had become impossible to ignore. That final penalty kick - it had looked too smooth. Too flawless. And that kernel of uncertainty had dug in like a splinter.

Valerie’s face shifted, her lips parting just slightly. There was no shock, no outrage - only hurt. Raw and visible.

“You think I’d lie to you?” she asked, voice hushed. “You think I’d break the promise I made?”

Judy looked away, shame rising like bile.

“I thought you trusted me,” Val added, softer now. “I thought... no matter what, you’d know I wouldn’t do that to you.”

The guilt slammed into her like a punch to the chest. Judy’s grip on the blanket faltered, her hand falling limp against her thigh.

She had trusted Valerie. Still did, deep down, under the fog of resentment and grief. Deep down, she knew her girlfriend wouldn’t have done that. She knew it, but she’d let the doubt creep in, let it eat away at the edges of what they’d built. Because it was easier to question Valerie than to admit that she no longer recognized herself.

And suddenly, Judy realized it wasn’t Valerie she was angry at. It wasn’t her partner’s fault that her own dreams had been sacrificed. Valerie hadn’t created the engram that was eating away at her brain, hadn’t chosen to get caught in this whole mess. She’d been fighting, too, just as much as Judy. She didn’t want any of this, didn’t want to continue the mission, had even tried to blackmail the FIA to get out of it, but it hadn’t worked. Judy had put her heart and soul on the line for her girlfriend, but Val had been just as much a victim of circumstance as she was.

“It’s not that,” she whispered. “Not... not completely.” Her voice cracked, raw now, trembling. “I do trust you. Fuck, Val, of course I do. I just—I didn’t make that free kick for you. And when I did—when I watched that ball sail past… it felt like something inside me broke. Like I gave something up. That I shouldn’t have. And then I saw you make that goal, and it was so... fuckin’ perfect, and I thought, of course. Of course, she would cheat. And since then—I’ve got... this void in my chest.”

Valerie didn’t interrupt. She listened, her face unreadable except for the pain in her eyes.

Judy closed hers. “I gave up the game. I gave up myself. For you. For your survival. I thought I was doing the right thing, thought it would be worth it. But when I thought you cheated... when I thought even that was tainted... I couldn’t breathe.”

“You did it for me,” Valerie said, her voice barely audible, roughened by something she couldn’t quite hide - guilt, maybe, or sorrow. “But I never asked you to.”

Judy’s gaze dropped, her hands curling into her lap as if trying to still the tremble that had crept into her fingers. “You didn’t have to ask,” she murmured, her voice unsteady but sure. “We both knew what was on the line. I couldn’t let you die. I wouldn’t. Because I love you, Val. Fuckin’ love you.” Her throat tightened, but she pushed through it, the words spilling like blood from a wound. “And if I had to go back—give that part of myself up all over again—I would. Even if it meant losing the game. Even if it meant watching the only thing I ever truly built for myself turn to dust.”

Valerie didn’t respond, not at first. The silence stretched between them like barbed wire. Her posture stiffened, her shoulders coiled with tension, and for a moment she looked like she was bracing for a blow. When she finally spoke, her voice came low and thick with emotion, barely holding together.

“I’m so fuckin’ sorry I put you in that position, Jude,” she said. “I never wanted any of this—for you, for us. I thought those ninety minutes would be enough. Enough to finish the scan, enough to make it all disappear. I told myself we can have both—the win on our terms and the scan. But it wasn’t that easy. And I knew it wasn’t fair to you, I knew it.”

She looked away then, gaze drifting to some shadow in the room that Judy couldn’t see, as though shame had rooted itself behind her eyes. “I don’t want you to resent me. But if you do… I get it. I do. I’d understand if you walked away and never looked back. You love soccer more than anything, and I took that from you. I made you cross a line you never should’ve had to. It should’ve meant more than me.”

Judy’s heart thudded hard in her chest. The pain inside her - sharp and constant since that moment on the field - rose again, heavy and aching. She understood Valerie’s regret, but it didn’t soften the blow, it didn’t make up for the hollow space inside her where her passion used to burn so bright. Still, she couldn’t let Valerie carry all the guilt, couldn’t let her drown in it alone.

She shook her head, slowly, like she was unraveling something deep within herself. “It doesn’t mean more than you,” she said, and even to her own ears the words sounded like a revelation. “I made that call, Val. Your life… was mine to save. And I’ll live with the cost. I have to.”

Valerie’s fingers found hers, hesitant at first, then firmer. Her voice was a whisper, barely more than breath, as if she feared the answer. “Do you hate me now?”

The question carved through her - vulnerable and raw. Judy looked up, met those gray eyes she knew so well, and felt something in her settle. Her voice came steadier this time, softer but solid. “No,” she said. “I could never hate you.”

But even as she said it, the rest clawed its way out of her chest, words that had been festering, coiled tight in the corners of her mind. “I just… I felt like a pawn,” she said, her voice cracking. “And I know you love me—I believe that. I really do. But after everything I’ve been through, all the people who took pieces of me and never gave a damn… I was terrified. I kept thinking that once the mission was over, once I wasn’t useful anymore, you’d pack up and walk away. That I’d be left behind. Again. Just another name in a list of things you had to sacrifice to survive.”

Her voice broke, and with it came the weight of weeks of holding herself together with clenched teeth and stubborn pride. But now it was all spilling out - exposed, unguarded. Now that it was out there, there was no turning back. It was as if, by finally speaking her truth, she’d allowed herself to confront the fear that had been gnawing at her all this time.

Valerie didn’t rush to speak. She didn’t offer empty promises or apologies that rang too late, too thin. Instead, her expression softened - just slightly - as that familiar, slow-forming smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. It was the kind of smile that always managed to cut through Judy’s defenses, the one that felt like sunrise after too many nights without sleep.

She reached out with a quiet urgency, not frantic but sure, and pulled Judy gently into her lap like she’d done a thousand times before. Judy didn’t resist. Her breath caught in her throat as strong arms circled around her, holding her - not just close, but safe, like shelter, like armor forged just for her. She melted into the embrace before her mind could catch up, letting herself be folded into that warmth.

Her face pressed against the crook of Valerie’s neck, where her skin was warm and faintly damp with sweat, where her scent - sandalwood, salt, and something sweeter - settled like a lullaby in Judy’s chest. Valerie’s heartbeat thumped against her cheek, steady and grounding, and Judy let herself sync to it, breathing with it, letting it guide her out of the storm she’d been drowning in for hours.

Val’s hand came up slowly, cradling the back of her head, not possessive, but careful. Protective. Like Judy was the most precious thing in the world. Like she knew exactly how much effort it had taken Judy to say the things she’d said. Like she knew how raw her heart was, how close she was to falling apart all over again. Her fingers combed through Judy’s damp hair, slow and sure, and Judy closed her eyes against the quiet ache of tenderness.

The mattress creaked beneath them, but neither moved. Valerie’s other hand traced small, methodical circles along the length of Judy’s spine - those soothing motions she always used when Judy couldn’t find words. She didn’t need to say anything. That touch said I’m here for you more clearly than anything her voice could manage.

And still, Judy needed more. She wrapped her legs around Valerie’s waist, pulling her closer, clutching her like a lifeline. As if by squeezing her tight enough she could erase the distance her fears had carved between them. It wasn’t about lust or neediness - it was about needing something solid to cling to. She wasn’t just holding Val. She was holding on to the part of herself that still believed in something better. That still believed in them.

Valerie’s voice, when it came, was low and rough-edged, as if it had scraped its way up through her ribs. “Jude, you’re everything to me. I want you—for you. Not because of anything you can do for me. Not because I needed something from you. And I’m not going anywhere. You’re stuck with me, whether you like it or not.”

Her hand never stopped its soft circling on Judy’s back, and the rhythm of it lulled her into something close to calm.

“I’d take another bullet to the head if it meant you didn’t have to feel this pain,” Val added, quieter now, the words breaking like surf against stone. “I’m sorry my choices fucked everything up. I’m sorry you had to give up a part of yourself just to carry the weight I should’ve never asked you to hold.”

Judy didn’t say anything - not because she didn’t want to, but because she didn’t have to. She felt something in her chest unclench, just slightly. Like a door easing open. The anger and doubt that had churned inside her all evening were still there, still simmering in the corners, but it didn’t scream so loud anymore. It’d been muted by something warmer, deeper. The realization that Valerie saw her - all of her - and hadn’t turned away.

Valerie’s voice came again, softer than before. “I’ll try to make it worth it, Jude. We’re gonna win that championship. We’re gonna make it count.”

Judy believed her.

She didn’t know why - maybe it was the way Valerie held her like she’d shatter if she let go. Maybe it was the way her voice had lost that confident sharpness and softened into something real. But whatever it was, it reached past the broken places in Judy’s heart and settled there, a flicker of something that looked dangerously close to hope.

The decision she’d made - the sacrifices, the doubts - it all settled into place. Perhaps Meredith had been right. That ache would fade in time. Judy knew why she had done it. And, despite everything, she realized she’d do it all over again. Because it meant this - this future she imagined with Valerie - was still possible, still within reach. It was all worth it - the pain, the resentment, the self-doubt. Valerie was worth it.

The silence that followed wasn’t empty. It wasn’t heavy like it had been before. It felt full, like the space between verses in a song, a moment of breath between pain and healing. Judy pressed herself closer, her hands tightening around the woman who had dragged her through hell and somehow made her want to believe again. She couldn’t say everything that boiled in her chest - the love, the fear, the deep ache of needing - but maybe she didn’t have to.

Valerie seemed to understand anyway. She always did.

Her arms drew tighter around Judy, like she was answering a question Judy hadn’t had the courage to ask. Her fingers kept moving, slow and sure, across her back. Each touch a vow. She wasn’t letting her go.

The world outside the room - the arena, the tournament, the semifinal, all the bullshit that had led them here - fell away. What mattered now was only this - the warmth between them, the thud of Valerie’s heartbeat against Judy’s skin, the way their bodies fit like a memory.

Judy let out a quiet, contented breath against her partner’s neck, eyes fluttering closed. She didn’t need to be strong anymore. She didn’t have to keep it all together. Not here. Not with her.

And in that quiet, intimate space, she understood something she hadn’t been able to see before - as much as she had sacrificed for Valerie, Val had given her something too. She’d given her a place to fall apart. A place to heal. A future worth hurting for. A love that didn’t ask her to be anything more than what she was in this moment - broken, shattered, but healing.

She tightened her hold on the blue-haired woman, as if by pulling her even closer she could convey all the emotions swirling inside her. And Judy knew then, without a shadow of doubt - she’d do it all over again.

For Valerie, she’d burn the whole damn world.

Chapter Text

Chapter XXII | And All That Could Have Been
In my nothing you meant everything, everything to me.

The tunnel pulsed with an electricity Judy could taste in the back of her throat, sharp and metallic like blood from a split lip. It clung to her skin, wrapped around her chest, squeezing tighter with every second that passed. The roar from the stadium outside was distant but constant, a tidal surge just beyond the concrete, too far to drown in but close enough to steal her air. And beneath it all - stronger than the noise, louder than the world - was the beating of her heart, frantic and unrelenting. It thundered through her ribcage like it was trying to claw its way out.

She stood frozen at the mouth of the tunnel, blinking against the harsh contrast between shadow and light. Beyond the threshold, the pitch was a flood of neon green under stadium glare, and at its center, gleaming like a promise - or a threat - was the World Cup. The trophy shimmered under the floodlights, beautiful and terrifying. Her whole life had funneled toward that single point - every long night under flickering gym fluorescents, every scraped knee and broken rib, every time she’d clawed her way off the turf with blood on her mouth and fire in her chest.

And now, on the precipice of it all, Judy was unraveling. Her hands wouldn’t stop trembling. Her lungs wouldn’t fill. Her legs felt hollow, like she was standing on stilts made of glass.

She tried to breathe. Failed.

Then warmth.

Strong arms slipped around her waist from behind - familiar, steady, undeniably real. The world halted. Her body leaned back before her mind caught up, instinct seeking refuge in the one thing that never faltered. In Valerie.

Judy turned in the embrace, hands finding Val’s shoulders like gravity. She clung to her without meaning to, clutching the fabric of her jersey in tight fists. Her forehead dropped against Valerie’s, the rest of the world falling away in the space between their lips. She didn’t need to kiss her. It was the promise of it, the closeness, that steadied her.

Val’s gaze met hers with quiet certainty. Her eyes didn’t flicker, didn’t waver. They were storm-gray and calm, centered like always, like they hadn’t been moments from stepping onto the pitch of the most important match of their lives. There was that familiar curve to her mouth - half amusement, half devotion - the one that always made Judy’s heart do a little flip, no matter how many times she saw it.

“Hey,” Valerie whispered, voice barely audible above the pulse in Judy’s ears. “We’re gonna make it count.”

No bravado. No speeches. Just that raspy, familiar voice, grounding her.

Judy didn’t reply. Couldn’t. Words would have broken whatever spell had just tethered her back to the earth. So, she held her partner’s face instead, palms against her cheeks, thumbs stroking gently across skin she knew better than her own. She matched Val’s breathin - slow, even, patient. One inhale. One exhale. Again.

The panic receded. The weight didn’t fully vanish, but it shifted - settled. She could carry it now.

“Aw, cute,” came a voice to their side, light and amused.

Judy’s eyes flicked open. Aoi Tsuki stood a few feet away, Japan’s captain, her grin lazy and unapologetically smug.

“Look at them, Akai,” she said, elbowing the red-haired forward beside her.

The other player laughed, arms crossed over her chest. “Kawaii. The media’s gonna eat it up.”

Then came the third voice - cool, cocky. “Too bad we’re gonna tear them apart.”

Judy recognized her immediately, even without the signature hair color. One third of the Us Cracks, as the Japanese forward line were called. Blue Moon, Purple Force and Red Menace. Japan’s trident. Flashy. Vicious. Unstoppable on their best days. Judy’s gut twisted, but this time, it wasn’t nerves. It was wildfire.

Valerie didn’t flinch. She looked past Judy’s shoulder and met Aoi’s gaze head-on, cool as ice. “We’ll see about that,” she said, and tossed them a wink before turning back, her focus softening the second it landed on Judy again. 

Judy exhaled, the tension melting from her spine as she let out a short laugh - small, but genuine. The pressure hadn’t disappeared, but it didn’t own her anymore. Valerie had reminded her who she was. A fighter. A survivor. A player who’d bled for this moment, and wasn’t about to let it slip.

Valerie’s hands fell away with a parting squeeze, and Judy straightened. Her breath came steady now, lungs full and sharp. Her heartbeat no longer roared - it marched. She took one last glance toward the trophy, then looked ahead.

The whistle sliced through the stadium air. In its wake, a silence bloomed inside Judy, carved from adrenaline and purpose. This was it.

She and Valerie broke into a sprint the instant their cleats met the turf. Their movements were seamless, honed by trust and instinct, bodies moving in tandem like parts of the same machine. The crowd roared around them - an ocean of voices and color and vibration. Judy felt it wash over her, through her, and she drank it in like fuel. This was what she had trained for, bled for, lived for. Her heart wasn’t pounding from nerves anymore. That stage had passed long ago. This rush, this electric hum threading her veins - this was hunger.

They reached the pitch as the opening anthems began, and the chaos quieted. A reverent hush fell across the stadium, as if the world itself were holding its breath. Judy stood still, shoulder to shoulder with Valerie, and stared out across the sea of strangers. Thousands of blurred faces, countless flickering lights, and above it all, the familiar song rising - somber, proud, eternal.

For a moment, she allowed herself to feel the weight of it. Everything she had fought for, every bruise, every drop of blood, every sleepless night, every moment she thought it might all fall apart - now it lived in this breathless pause before the game began.

Then she felt it. A shift, not in the crowd or the air, but in the woman beside her.

Valerie had gone rigid. Not outwardly - most wouldn’t notice - but Judy knew her better than anyone. The faint tightness in her jaw, the subtle lock of her shoulders, the way her hands curled slightly, not from readiness, but from restraint. Something was wrong.

Judy’s gaze followed the invisible thread, tracing the direction of Valerie’s stare. It landed like a blow.

Front row, VIP section. President Rosalind Myers. Gleaming, poised, and still as a statue carved from marble and steel. But she wasn’t alone. Flanking her were the Arasaka heirs - Hanako and Yorinobu. The sight of them together was enough to raise the hairs on Judy’s arms. But it wasn’t the presence of power that twisted her gut - it was the fact that Myers wasn’t watching the ceremony. She wasn’t clapping politely or soaking in the grandeur of the final.

She was staring directly at Valerie.

Not watching - studying. Calculating. Like a predator, biding its time.

Judy’s breath caught. She knew what that look meant. Valerie had told her about the Dogtown mess, about Myers’s dirty games and the price So Mi had paid. How the FIA had used and molded her. How the President dangled the surgery as a bait. It didn’t matter that Val had survived it all. It didn’t matter that she’d walked away with the truth scorched into her skin.

To Myers, Valerie was still a pawn on her board.

As the anthem’s final note echoed into silence, the teams moved. Judy stepped closer, just enough to brush her fingers against her partner’s hand. “Hey,” she whispered, low and steady. “It’s not about you. They always show up for the final. It’s politics. Don’t worry about it, ‘kay?”

Valerie nodded, but her eyes didn’t leave the VIP section right away. Judy could feel it - the tension humming beneath her girlfriend’s skin like a warning chord. Val’s jaw was still clenched, the muscle in her neck tensed like she was holding back something she couldn’t quite shake. But there was no time to go deeper, not now. The whistle was about to blow.

“Look at me.”

Val blinked and turned, just enough for their eyes to meet. For a heartbeat, the world shrank back to the two of them. No Myers. No past. Just them.

“It’s not about you,” Judy said, more steel in her voice than she expected. “Focus on this. Focus on the game.”

Another nod. Slower this time. Judy watched as Valerie turned her gaze back to the field. There it was - the flicker of fire returning to her eyes, the fight sliding back into place. Judy could see the gears turning in her partner’s head, the way she was fighting to push the distraction away.

Judy took a sharp breath, the cold air burning down her lungs. The stadium around them surged again, the hum of anticipation reaching its peak. The whistle was coming. There was no choice.

She stepped into position, muscles coiled, gaze locked forward. Whatever Myers wanted, whatever ghosts from the past she was dragging into the present, it didn’t matter now. This was their moment. And Judy wasn’t going to let anything - or anyone - take that from them.

The whistle pierced the air, marking the end of the first half. But for Judy, it didn’t bring relief - only the sharp press of exhaustion and the buzz of frustration beneath her ribs. It pulsed through her veins like a second heartbeat.

This was supposed to be soccer - strategy, precision, the beautiful game. But what had unfolded on the pitch was anything but fair.

Japan had come out ruthless, yes - but that wasn’t what had Judy furious. It wasn’t the intensity or the tight marking. It was the tilt. The force that kept skewing the match away from them, play by play. Missed fouls, blatant shoves ignored, a yellow card waved at the wrong moment like it was meant to send a message. The referee’s whistle felt like a weapon in the wrong hands, and every time it blew - or didn’t - it chipped away at their rhythm, their belief, their control.

It wasn’t paranoia. Judy had seen it before - how matches turned, not because the opponent was better, but because the system quietly stacked the deck. This time it was undeniable.

She limped toward the sideline, her body carrying a new collection of bruises. Her left leg burned with the deep throb of bone-on-bone contact, and her ribs ached from a collision - a deliberate body slam from one of Japan’s defenders, all elbows and bad intent. The memory of it flashed again behind her eyes - her body hitting the ground, the breath punched from her lungs, the stunned second of trying to remember how to move. No whistle. No foul. Not even a glance in her direction. Just silence and grass in her teeth.

Valerie had been there. Not like before - not the spitfire who stormed through their rivals with rage in her chest and vengeance in her eyes. Not like during that match with Spain, where she’d almost flatlined a player who tackled Judy. No, this Val was something else. Still. Solid. A quiet anchor in the chaos.

She’d knelt beside Judy without hesitation, hands gentle, brushing over bruises with a tenderness that sent a different kind of ache through her. Her touch was careful but sure, cataloging pain, checking for damage, never panicking. And when her eyes met Judy’s, they weren’t wild or angry - they were calm, and soft, and maddeningly focused. 

Still, even with Val’s presence grounding her, the storm inside kept building.

They’d had chances. Good ones. Breakaways. Corners. Shots just a hair too wide, just a second too slow. Japan’s defense was a machine, disciplined and cold, closing in like a vice each time they neared the box. And their keeper - sharp, ruthless - swallowed their best shots whole. Every miss felt like a weight added to their backs, and the minutes drained away, unforgiving.

Japan was still one goal ahead, and the longer the game wore on, the more it felt like time was slipping through their fingers, like they were running uphill on shifting ground.

Judy's body felt like it had been chewed up and spit back out. Sweat stung her eyes. Her chest burned. Her hands curled into fists before she remembered to unclench them. But the worst of it wasn’t the pain - it was the helplessness. Like the whole world was tilting, and no matter how hard they ran, they’d never reach the top.

But the game wasn’t over. Not yet.

Her gaze flicked up, cutting through the throng of players and staff, and locked onto Valerie. Something was wrong. Judy saw it in the way her girlfriend’s shoulders tightened, the way her head turned ever so slightly toward the VIP box. The place Myers had been seated.

Something in Judy twisted. A quiet alarm.

She didn’t even think. Her feet carried her forward before the thought fully formed. She slipped between teammates, ducked past a medical staff, catching only fragments of shouted reassurances and frustrated curses in the air. Then she reached Valerie, fingers catching her arm just before she vanished down the tunnel.

“Wait,” Judy breathed, tugging her off to the side. They slipped into the shadows behind a column, out of view. Her heart still pounded, from the match, from the sprint, from everything she couldn’t quite name.

Valerie turned to her, guarded and already bracing for a fight.

“Val, please stop,” Judy started, swallowing down the heat in her throat. “You need to stop thinking about Myers.”

Val scoffed, sharp and low, her jaw tightening like she was holding back something heavier. “She’s not here for the match. You saw it. Same look every damn time. She’s watching me, Jude. Keepin’ tabs.”

“And so what?” Judy snapped, voice rising before she caught it. She stepped in closer, breathing hard, more from the fear than the exertion now. “You did what they asked. You earned the surgery. Sol promised it. You said you trusted him.”

“I do,” Valerie said, almost a growl. “But I don’t trust her. Myers doesn’t forget, and she doesn’t forgive. And with Arasaka’s pets sniffin’ around now too? That engram’s still a prize. They haven’t let it go. What if—”

Judy’s heart hammered. “Let it go,” she hissed. “You’re not theirs. You’re not hers.”

Val’s eyes were burning now, the kind of fire Judy had seen too often lately, the kind that came with dangerous thoughts. “If there’s a way to deal with that, to talk to them, maybe I can—”

“No.” Judy’s voice cracked. She gripped Valerie’s arms tight, trying to anchor her. “They’ll kill you, Val. They’ll crack your head open and take what they want, and you’ll be just another body left behind. That’s what they do. You know that. You mean nothing to them, and I won’t let you do this.”

Valerie went quiet, but Judy pressed on, voice trembling.

“You’ve already done enough. Reed gave his word. You don’t need to throw yourself in front of the bus again. The plan worked. We just have to stick to it. You have to trust it.” Her eyes searched Val’s. “Trust yourself.”

The world stilled. Around them, boots scuffed across concrete, players shuffled into the locker room, the muffled rumble of the crowd carried faintly through the walls. But here, in this moment, it was only the two of them.

Valerie’s shoulders eased by degrees. That familiar sharpness in her eyes softened - not gone, but tempered - and her hand lifted slowly, brushing a lock of sweat-damp hair from Judy’s cheek. Her touch, always more real than anything else.

“Okay,” Valerie said, her voice a low murmur. “I’m not going anywhere… Let’s win this thing.”

Judy exhaled shakily, her chest loosening for the first time since the whistle.

The equalizer had felt like lightning in her veins - a moment so sharp and vivid it cut through the noise, through the pressure, through everything. Valerie’s lob had been art. The ball sailed over Japan’s line like a blade slicing through silk, too swift for the defenders to read, too perfect to interrupt. Judy didn’t even have to think. Her body moved on instinct, the run timed to the beat of her pulse. The ball kissed her forehead, clean and true, and in the breath that followed, the world seemed to still.

The net rippled. A heartbeat later, the roar came, a wave of sound so powerful it shuddered through her bones. She staggered back on shaky legs, lungs heaving, barely able to hear her own breath over the eruption around them. The scoreboard flashed even. Hope flickered, sharp and dangerous. They were back in it. And for one radiant moment, Judy allowed herself to believe.

But time, cruel as ever, marched on.

At first, it was subtle. Valerie still danced down the field with that same impossible grace, her passes cutting through lines with surgical precision. To the crowd, to their teammates, nothing seemed off. But Judy saw it. The shift came in shadows - barely-there hesitations, the way her legs didn’t stretch as far on the sprints, how her recovery steps slowed just a hair too long. Her breathing, once steady and quick, grew uneven. And her eyes - Judy could see the change there most of all. That blazing, fierce focus had dimmed to a flicker, like a pilot light sputtering in a storm.

Anxiety scratched at Judy’s ribs, low and insistent. She kept glancing toward her, reading every movement, every grimace. But the game didn’t allow for sympathy. The ball kept flying, retained in constant play. Japan kept pushing. Judy had to stay alert, had to shut that part of herself off - the part that wanted to run across the pitch and grab Val by the shoulders, make her stop, make her breathe. But she couldn't. 

And then it happened.

Judy didn’t see the lead-up - only the collision, sudden and brutal. A heavy thud of bodies, bone against bone, sickening thud. Valerie slammed into the ground like a marionette with her strings suddenly cut, the impact echoing with an awful finality. Judy froze. For a half-second, she couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move. She watched as Valerie crumpled, unmoving. Too still.

It wasn’t like before. This wasn’t the Val who bounced back. This wasn’t the Val who lived for contact, who’d spit blood and keep playing. This was something else. Something worse.

Judy’s legs ached to move, to abandon her position and sprint to her side, but the game didn’t pause. Japan surged forward, sensing blood in the water. Judy clenched her teeth, stayed where she was, though her heart was already halfway down the field. Her team needed her. She couldn’t leave them vulnerable, not now.

She casted a desperate glance over her shoulder, and her gut twisted at what she saw. Valerie rose, eventually. She was back on her feet, but barely. Her frame was tight with pain, her steps dragging, her balance uneven. Judy watched her through the chaos, feeling helpless, gutted. She could see how much it cost the blue-haired woman just to stand.

“Come on, baby… please,” Judy muttered under her breath to herself. She willed strength into her with every glance, every silent plea. She needed her to hold on, to fight through whatever was slowing her down. But deep inside, fear gnawed at her.

In the meantime, Japan’s captain seized the moment like a true predator. She slipped past Claire, danced around Stout. Judy’s stomach dropped. She was too open. No one close enough to stop her. Aoi’s posture was textbook - legs braced, weight and balance just perfect. She swung.

Judy didn’t even scream. She just watched, numb, as the ball arced high and fast. Time slowed down. Rebecca leapt, stretched every inch of her body to reach it - but her fingertips fell short. The ball struck the top corner of the net with a merciless thud.

The stadium exploded again, this time not with joy, but devastation. For Judy, the sound felt like the floor giving way beneath her.

Japan was ahead. And Valerie… Valerie could barely stand. Too hurt to keep going.

The locker room hung in a silence so thick it felt almost sacred - like a cathedral after the last hymn had been sung. The sterile hum of fluorescent lights cast a cold gleam over silver medals that dangled heavily from bowed necks, their shine stark against sweat-soaked, once-black jerseys. But there was no pride in their glint - only the hollow echo of what could have been. They felt like chains, not awards. Shackles that tethered every player to the brutal weight of disappointment.

Judy sat motionless, elbows resting on her knees, fingers locked together as if in prayer, though she didn’t believe in much these days. Around her, the team was still - each woman wrestling with her own grief, her own fury. Outside, the muffled voices of Rogue and Regina bled through the walls, their polished words for the press a poor salve for the rawness in here. Within the tiled sanctuary, the only sounds were jerseys being peeled off sticky skin, boots thudding listlessly to the floor, and the occasional sharp breath trying not to break. Echoes of a battle that had ended too soon.

Rita’s simmering frustration boiled over first. The metallic ring of her medal slamming into the floor shattered the silence like glass. “This was fuckin’ rigged from the start!” she snarled, her voice a stormcloud cracking open, thick with betrayal.

Judy felt the eruption ripple through her own chest - a hot swell of rage and helplessness pushing against the back of her throat. She stood, slow but purposeful, and all heads turned toward her, their faces a mixture of despair and curiosity. Her pulse was pounding, her legs aching, but her voice held firm.

“Listen up,” she began, the quiet strength in her voice cutting through the gloom. “I know this hurts. Hell, it should. It wasn’t supposed to end like that. It feels like the whole world was against us—and maybe it was. But that doesn’t erase what we did out there… We gave the best team in the world ninety fuckin’ minutes of hell. No one could stand up to them, but we did. We played our hearts out. You did that. All of you.”

She took a moment, let her words settle, her gaze sweeping over the tired, tear-bright eyes around her. “They had the calls, the politics, the refs. But we had each other. And we held the line. We fought together, played smart, and left everything we had on that field. That’s what matters.”

A few heads lifted. Brows furrowed, mouths slackened, the fire dimming in their chests flickering anew.

“I’m proud of this team. You should be, too. This isn’t a loss—it’s a warning shot. Next time, they won’t know what hit them. We train harder. We come back sharper. Stronger. Next time we win the whole damn thing.”

The locker room seemed to breathe for the first time in what felt like hours. Judy’s voice softened, but the conviction didn’t falter. “There’s only one winner, sure. That’s how this game works. But the pride we built here? The legacy? That doesn’t disappear just because we didn’t walk out with gold. Remember this feeling, don’t ever forget it. This is just a beginning. Yes, we lost this game, but so what? It’s just one game. Somewhere out there, some kid just watched us play and saw everything they want to be. We gave them that. You gave them that. Be proud of yourselves. Be proud of what we did.”

From the doorway, a pair of familiar figures stepped in - Rogue and Regina. They said nothing at first. They didn’t have to. The pride in their eyes spoke volumes, their slow applause swelling into a rhythm that echoed off the tiled walls. One by one, the team joined in. Hesitant claps turned into smiles, then into something stronger.

“N-U-S-A on three!” Meredith’s voice rang out, louder now, the fight returning to her tone. “One, two, three—!”

“N-U-S-A! N-U-S-A! N-U-S-A!”

The chant rolled through the room, strong, infectious and defiant, a battle cry that refused to be dimmed by silver. Judy smiled, her heart pulsing with something fierce and full. She let herself savor it for a beat - until her eyes landed on the corner of the room.

Valerie. Slumped at her locker, her head bowed, hands tangled in her hair. At first, Judy thought she was crying. But then she noticed something else - dark droplets staining the tile beneath her, stark and jarring. Blood.

The warmth in Judy’s chest turned to ice.

She moved fast, the noise of the room fading into a distant blur. Her knees hit the floor hard beside Valerie, who trembled, folded in on herself like a wounded bird.

“Val,” she whispered, panic rising sharp and fast, “What’s wrong?”

She reached out, coaxing Valerie’s hands away from her face with a tenderness that barely held back the rising panic in her chest. Her breath hitched the moment she saw the blood. It was smeared beneath Valerie’s nose in streaks far too vivid, far too wrong - each line of red stark against the pale canvas of her skin. More of it clung to her chin, thick droplets sliding down in slow descent, splattering darkly against the tile below. It looked like bruises blooming, angry and fresh, as if her body itself were rejecting the violence done to it.

“I wasn’t able… to stop this…”

Judy leaned in, heart hammering like it might split her chest. “What are you talkin’ about? Hey, no—this ain’t on you,” she said, the words tight, instinctive. She brushed a blood-slick thumb beneath Valerie’s cheekbone, trying to ground her, to find her in the haze behind her eyes.

Val shuddered under her touch. “It hurts… so fuckin’ much,” she whispered. Her voice was barely audible, slipping through lips that had gone ghost-pale. Her eyes - those storm-grey eyes - were unfocused, swimming with glassy pain. “Jude…”

Judy’s stomach dropped, the weight of the moment crashing down on her like a wave of cold water. Everything else - the noise, the locker room, her teammates - falling away. Panic gripped her, cold fingers closing around her throat. She couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe. Then Rita appeared at her side, concern carved into every line of her face. Her gaze swept over Valerie, understanding blooming instantly, and still Judy beat her to it - ripping off her own shirt and pressing the fabric beneath Valerie’s chin. But it was useless. The bleeding didn’t stop. It just kept coming, relentless and thick.

Valerie’s skin burned beneath Judy’s touch, radiating heat like an open flame. Her breaths were ragged, each inhale shallow and brittle, like her lungs were folding in on themselves. Judy knew this. She’d seen it before. Relic malfunction. The signs were carved into her girlfriend’s body like writing on a tombstone. Only this time, it was worse. Much worse.

Valerie must’ve been fighting it for a while now. Probably since before the match ended. Since the start of second half. But Judy didn’t say a word. Not in front of the others.

“Reet,” she said hoarsely, not looking up, “help me get her under the cold shower.”

Rita nodded. No questions, no hesitation. Just action. Together, they lifted Valerie, her body limp and shaking between them. Judy could feel every tremor like an echo in her own bones, could feel how close to breaking Val really was. Each step toward the showers was a quiet war against time. Around them, the world turned to a blur of half-heard voices and startled stares. But Judy didn’t hear them. Didn’t care. None of that mattered. The only thing that mattered was getting Valerie some relief.

They made it to the showers. Judy twisted the handle with one hand, and the cold water burst forth in a violent stream. The moment it hit, it soaked through everything - her uniform, her underwear, Val’s soaked jersey - but she barely noticed. The only thing she felt was the fragile body in her arms, sagging against her, breaking.

Valerie whimpered, her sobs caught somewhere between breath and agony. Judy cradled her tightly, one arm around her waist, the other bracing her head against her shoulder. The cold stung her skin, but she welcomed it. Let it ground her. Let it remind her that she was still here, still holding on. Because that was all she could do now - hold on. The helplessness gnawed at her, the fear that she might lose her tightening its grip around her heart.

“Hey! Scram!” Rita’s voice cracked across the space, sharp and commanding as a gunshot. The sound snapped the gawkers at the doorway into motion - teammates scattering like startled pigeons, their curiosity dissolving under her glare.

The space fell quiet again, leaving only the three of them behind.

“I’ll be outside,” the purple-haired defender added, her tone lowering to something gentler. “Shout if you need me.”

She didn’t wait for a reply. Just turned on her heel and slipped out, granting them the privacy they needed.

“I’m here, babe,” Judy whispered, her lips pressed against Valerie’s wet hair. “I got you. Just breathe, okay? Just hold on for me.”

Valerie stirred in her arms. Her lashes fluttered, her eyes finding Judy’s for a heartbeat, unfocused and glazed with pain. “It hurts, Jude… I’m so sorry… I didn’t mean to—”

“Shhh,” Judy interrupted, choking back the sob that tried to climb her throat. “Don’t say anythin’. You didn’t do nothin’ wrong. You hear me?” She pressed her cheek to Val’s temple, her fingers splayed across her back, anchoring her there. “You’re gonna be ‘kay. Jus’ stay with me. Please.”

Valerie’s body bucked with another wave of pain. She let out a strangled whimper, her forehead pressing tighter into Judy’s shoulder. “I’m sorry,” she whispered again, so soft it might’ve been the sound of her breathing out. So soft it scared the hell out of Judy.

Tears streamed down her cheeks now, mingling with the freezing spray. She couldn’t stop them. She didn’t want to. “You ain’t leavin’ me. You hear me?” she said, voice cracking open like her chest had split. “I won’t let you.”

Valerie didn’t answer. Her breaths had grown shallow. Judy clung to her tighter, arms wound around her as if pressure alone could stitch her soul back together, could somehow keep her from slipping away. The icy torrent poured over them in relentless sheets, but it did nothing to wash away the fear crawling under Judy’s skin.

The world felt like it was coming apart at the seams - tilting, spinning too fast to hold onto. Valerie’s body had gone slack in her arms, her weight heavier by the second, her voice silent, lost somewhere unreachable. Judy could hear the seconds passing in her skull, ticking like a fuse winding down toward something irreversible.

She was losing her. And she didn’t know how to stop it.

Then, slowly – agonizingly - Valerie’s breathing began to steady. The violent tremors racking her body eased, a little at a time, until the warmth of her presence wasn’t just dead weight. Her muscles twitched. She moved - barely, but enough. Judy felt her shift, no longer leaning entirely on her for balance, and then straighten, standing on her own feet beneath the freezing downpour.

Hope stirred in Judy’s chest, fragile and flickering. She pulled back slightly, brushing wet strands of hair from her eyes, ready to exhale relief—

But then she saw Valerie’s face. And her heart plummeted.

The face was familiar. It was the same face Judy had kissed in the dark, traced with her fingers in the soft hush of night - but now it was wearing a smile that didn’t belong. Not to her. It was a twisted smirk, razor-sharp and cold. The eyes that met hers were distant, not in pain or fear, but in something far more terrifying. Detachment. Amusement.

That wasn’t her girlfriend. Valerie was gone.

No. No, no, no. God—no.

She staggered back a step, breath caught in her throat as the truth wrapped around her like a noose. “Johnny… is that you?” she finally asked, her voice breaking on the question.

The figure tilted its head, the smirk twisting into a grin full of infuriating swagger. “The one and only,” came the reply, Valerie’s voice dipped in arrogance, that rasp which didn’t belong.

Judy felt the world tilt, felt the floor drop out from under her. Her mind spun. Her knees nearly gave out. “No…” she whispered, half to herself. “No, this can’t be happening.” Her gaze darted over Valerie’s - no, Johnny’s - features, hoping for some crack in the mask, some sign of the woman she loved. “Val’s—is she gone? Is that it?” The question came out choked, almost childlike.

Before she could step further away, Johnny’s hand shot out and caught her wrist - firm, but not rough. “She’s still here, Jude,” he said, quieter now. “She’s not gone. I promise. Just needs rest. She’s still fighting. Y’know her, wouldn’t back down so easily.”

That only made it worse. Judy’s pulse thundered in her ears. “But how—how the hell are you here?” she asked, voice raw. “Why now?”

Johnny didn’t flinch. “She was crashing. I had to step in. Like I’ve done before.”

Judy blinked. “Before…?”

His gaze met hers, relaxed and detached in a way Valerie’s had never been when things got this bad. “That message. After Alex nearly flatlined her. Who do you think sent it?”

The basketball court. The panic. The message that had brought her sprinting back to Val’s side. Valerie had never remembered sending it - and Judy hadn’t questioned it. Until now. Her stomach turned. It had been him all along. Johnny Silverhand. The ghost she’d cursed and resented from the start.

“Come on, kiddo,” he said, breaking through the fog of her thoughts. His voice was all wrong - not in tone, but in the way it sat too easily in Valerie’s mouth. Still, she - or he - stepped out of the stream and grabbed a towel from the bench, tossing it to her with a casual flick of the wrist. “We’ll get her to bed. You’ll give me a blocker, and she’ll be back before you know it. Just needs sleep.”

Judy caught the towel in numb fingers that barely obeyed her. The shower still thundered behind them, soaking her clothes, but the chill didn’t reach her. Everything had shrunk down to the figure standing in front of her - her lover’s face worn like a mask by a man who shouldn’t be there.

Still, she followed. What choice did she really have?

Her heart pounded, each beat louder than the last, drowning out the questions spiraling through her mind - the ones she wasn’t ready to face, the ones she couldn’t answer. She kept her gaze low, her hands busy, focused on the simple, mechanical motions of helping Valerie - no, Johnny - get dressed. Her fingers shook as they tugged damp fabric from clammy skin, as they smoothed the edges of a plaid shirt that suddenly felt too foreign, too unfamiliar. Like it didn’t belong to the woman she loved anymore.

Around them, the locker room buzzed with murmurs. Curious glances. Sidelong stares. Rita and Meredith watched from across the room, exchanging a quiet look - concern, maybe. Suspicion. No one said anything. But Judy felt the pressure of their attention like a hand pressing down on her spine.

The bus offered a brief, fragile silence. Johnny slouched beside her, head tilted back against the seat, the edges of his smirk softened by fatigue - or maybe pity.

“Thanks, kid,” he said. His voice had lost its usual bite. There was something almost gentle beneath it. “She’s lucky to have you.”

Judy couldn’t speak right away. Her throat felt raw, her chest too tight to hold everything inside. Instead, she brushed a damp strand of hair from her cheek, blinking hard against the sting in her eyes.

“Just… bring her back,” she said, voice quiet, almost a whisper. A prayer disguised as a plea.

Johnny turned to look at her. And for a flicker of a second, something human stirred behind those grey eyes. Something that didn’t belong to him.

“I will,” he said softly. “She’ll be alright, Jude.”

Judy nodded, but her hands stayed restless, her heart pacing in circles. She wanted to believe him. Needed to believe him. So, she sat there, shoulder brushing Valerie’s, her hand resting gently on her arm, her eyes fixed on the window as the bus pulled away into the night. And she waited – hoping for the woman she loved to find her way back.

By the time they reached the hotel room, Judy felt like she was holding herself together by threads.

The trip back had been little more than a fog - footsteps swallowed by static, the neon blur of Barcelona bleeding past her peripheral vision like a bad memory. Her muscles ached, not from exertion, but from tension wound too tight for too long. Every step beside her - beside Valerie - sent fresh currents of nausea rolling through her. Except it wasn’t Valerie, not really. It was him.

Johnny Silverhand moved in her skin like it was something he owned. Swaggering down the hallway with that maddening smirk, head tilted like he could still hear the roar of a crowd behind him. Judy couldn’t look at him for too long - it made her stomach twist, seeing the way Val’s body moved when it wasn’t her behind the wheel. A grotesque mimicry of someone she loved, worn like a costume.

Neither of them had said much. There was no need. Johnny’s silence was a language in itself - one that spoke of arrogance, detachment, control. That cocky grin had followed her all the way up to the hotel room like a second shadow.

The moment they stepped inside, Judy didn’t even spare him a glance. Her body moved on instinct, retreating to the bathroom like a woman trying to outrun a nightmare she couldn’t wake up from. The door clicked shut behind her, and she flicked the light on with trembling fingers. The sudden brightness stung her eyes, sterile and too honest - every crack in the tiles, every faint smudge on the mirror seemed to echo the fracture inside her.

She stumbled toward the sink, yanked open the drawer beneath with desperate fingers. Perfume. Toothpaste. A razor. The mundane clutter of Valerie’s life, so familiar it hurt. Judy’s hand shook as she shoved everything aside, searching for the bottle she knew had to be there. It had always been there.

Her fingers finally closed around the small container. She unscrewed the cap and looked inside - three. Only three fucking pills. Her heart seized. Was that enough? Would it last long enough to get Valerie to the surgery? Did they even have that long? She didn’t know. No one ever told her anything. The world kept spinning, the danger kept rising, and now he was here - in her body - and Judy was left holding three tiny pills like they were the last lifeboat on a sinking ship.

Clutching the bottle tight, she rushed back into the room, breath ragged in her throat. But the sight that met her brought her to a standstill.

Johnny was crouched beside Valerie’s backpack, rifling through it like he owned the damn thing. His movements were casual, careless, like none of this mattered. Clothes, gear, electronics - all tossed aside with the lazy indifference of someone who’d never learned to value anything. It felt obscene, watching him pick apart Valerie’s life so easily, like he was unzipping her mind stitch by stitch.

Judy’s grip tightened on the bottle. “What the fuck are you doing?”

Johnny glanced up, Valerie’s face twisting into something smug and amused. “Smokes,” he said, like that explained anything. He reached deeper into the pack and, with an exaggerated flourish, pulled out a crumpled pack of cigarettes. “Only two left,” he said, shaking it. “Feels like fate, doesn’t it?”

Judy blinked. For a second, the absurdity of it all hit her like a slap. Him, digging through Val’s things like a nosy roommate, grinning like this was just another night out. The whiplash between panic and rage made her dizzy. For a second, she almost laughed at the insanity of it all. Almost.

Johnny held the pack toward her, cocking one brow in challenge. “Smoke with me, kiddo?”

Judy stared at the offered cigarette, a storm brewing behind her eyes. She hadn’t smoked in years - not since she was a teenager, when lighting up felt like sticking a middle finger to the world. Back then, cigarettes were rebellion, release, escape. Now? She wasn’t sure what the hell they were. A memory, maybe. A ritual. A way to pretend something in this moment was still under her control.

Her hand moved before her mind could stop it. She took the cigarette, felt its paper weight against her fingers, the way it trembled slightly in her grip. They stepped out in silence. The night stretched out before them - cool and quiet, save for the occasional groan of the city below. Lights blinked across the skyline like tired eyes refusing to close, and the slow, distant roar of the waves gnawed at the shoreline in a rhythm that made Judy’s skin crawl. It felt wrong. Everything did.

Johnny lit her cigarette with a flick, the flame briefly painting Valerie’s face in golden hues. For a heartbeat, Judy saw her. Really saw her - the line of her cheek, the arch of her brow, the way her lips parted slightly as the lighter snapped shut.

But it wasn’t her. And Judy’s heart broke a little more.

She took a drag - too deep, too fast - and choked on it, coughing harshly as the smoke clawed down her throat.

“Don’t choke,” Johnny quipped, his grin infuriatingly calm as he leaned against the balcony’s railing like he owned the night. He brought the cigarette to his lips with a practiced ease, exhaling a stream of smoke that curled into the dark like it belonged there. Of course it did. He belonged to this kind of moment - the half-lit, half-dead ones.

Judy glared at him, but he didn’t flinch. She envied that ease, the way he carried the weight of things like it was all just another joke. Valerie’s body moved with his confidence, the curve of her shoulders relaxed in a way Val rarely was anymore. It made something twist in Judy’s chest. She hated seeing Valerie like this - alive and moving, but not hers.

She brought the cigarette back to her lips and inhaled more carefully this time. The burn was still there, acrid and dry, but it gave her something. Something solid. Something real. Something to keep her from falling apart completely. A tether, however thin. Smoking, as reckless and pointless as it was, grounded her.

“Yeah, well… it’s been a while,” she muttered, the smoke escaping her mouth in a crooked spiral.

Johnny smirked, eyes half-lidded, his gaze far off. “No shit. But y’know what? Little rebellion never killed anyone… well, huh, except me. But I’m still standing, somehow.”

She didn’t answer. Her fingers trembled slightly as she stared at the burning tip of the cigarette, ember glowing soft and cruel in the dark. Rebellion. All this time, had they been trying to push back against something inevitable? To prove they were stronger than whatever came at them? No. That wasn’t what this was. It hadn’t been about rebellion for a long time. For Val, it was survival. Every day, every breath, every decision - just another game of odds she never asked to play.

And now, after everything they’d been through, everything they’d clawed their way back from, Judy had almost lost her. Val had collapsed right there in her arms - body twitching, eyes wild, mouth forming words she couldn’t understand. And instead of her girlfriend, there was someone else standing beside her. Johnny’s smirk. Johnny’s tone. Johnny taking control. And Valerie, gone.

The silence between them felt heavier than the night itself. The city murmured below, blind to her fear, uncaring. Judy pressed the cigarette to her lips again but didn’t inhale. Her heart was thundering in her chest, and her stomach had been in knots for so long. The fear she’d been keeping at bay until now, was clawing its way to the surface, and before she could stop herself, the question spilled out in a quiet, broken whisper.

“What if she’s not coming back?”

The words tasted bitter on her tongue, filled with all the doubts and terror she hadn’t wanted to admit. The question hung there, sharp-edged and trembling in the space between them. She didn’t look at him. Couldn’t. Her gaze stayed fixed on the soft orange glow at the tip of her cigarette, her knuckles pale from how tightly she held it.

What if Val didn’t come back? What if this was the end of the line? What if this was the last real piece of her, already fading?

The silence that followed stretched on until it felt unbearable. Johnny didn’t meet it with a joke, didn’t shove it away with bravado. Instead, he took another slow drag. When he exhaled, it was a sigh—not tired, not amused, just... quiet. Understanding.

“She’ll come back, Jude,” he said, low and stripped of his usual cockiness. “I promise.”

The word hit her like a crack in her ribs. Promise. It echoed too deeply, landed too softly. Judy had learned not to trust promises. They were always spoken in moments like this - moments on the edge, where everything felt like it could tip one way or another. They were fragile things, pretty things. They shattered too easily.

She wanted to believe him. But the image of Valerie collapsing, seizing, disappearing was burned into the backs of her eyes. And the way Johnny had looked at her then - in her body, with her eyes - like he already belonged to it… that scared her more than anything.

Judy closed her eyes and let the smoke drift from her lips. The cigarette was almost gone now. Just a smear of ash and heat clinging to her fingertips. She flicked it off the edge of the balcony, watching the glow spin into the dark like a falling star.

“How can you be so sure?” she asked, and the tightness in her voice made her jaw ache. It was barely more than a whisper, strained and trembling, a fragile dam holding back fear.

Johnny didn’t answer right away. He stood beside her, his posture oddly still, then tossed his cigarette too. It arced away from them, brief fire swallowed by the void. When he finally turned, there was no trace of his usual smirk on Valerie’s face—just something quieter, heavier. Something that struck Judy with an ache behind her ribs.

“Because I’ve seen what she’s fighting for.”

Judy swallowed, the motion dry and painful. She didn’t know what Johnny had seen - didn’t want to imagine the strange intimacy of sharing someone’s mind - but there was no denying the shift in his tone. Gone was the arrogant rockerboy persona. What remained was something more raw. Respectful. Human.

“What do you mean?”

He let out a breath that might have been a laugh, though there was no humor in it. “I’ve been inside her head, Jude. Seen how she thinks. How she breaks. How she holds herself together with duct tape and grit.” He paused. “And I’ve seen what keeps her going.”

He didn’t need to say it. She felt it, like a pull deep in her chest.

“You,” he said, finally. “It’s always been you.”

Judy looked away, blinking hard against the sting behind her eyes. Johnny’s tone was hitting her harder than she wanted to admit, carving its way into places she had been trying to shield.

“She’s not just hanging on because she’s stubborn,” he continued. “She’s fighting because she wants to come back to you. You’re not just some distraction or safety net for her. You’re her reason. The thing anchoring her when everything else is trying to pull her under.”

His voice softened as he added, “You’re the one thing she’s terrified of losing.”

Judy bit down on her lip until she tasted blood, the emotion rising fast and sharp. Of course, she’d known Valerie loved her - felt it in the silence between kisses, in the steadiness of her hand when she brushed hair from Judy’s face, in the way she said her name like it meant something holy. But hearing it from Johnny, from the person who had shared Valerie’s thoughts and dreams and nightmares - it made everything feel so much more real. She didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. How strange it was, hearing such intimate truths from him, of all people.

“She’s been carrying it for a long time,” he said. “Since before she ever said the words out loud. Back when you first showed up in Night City, she wanted to say it then. But she didn’t. Couldn’t. Bit her tongue. I could feel the way it clawed at her, how every glance your way was laced with all the shit she couldn’t bring herself to admit. And every time she looks at you, I can feel it. It’s like this... constant need to protect you, to make sure you’re safe. It burns in her, Jude. Even when she’s too messed up to say it, it’s there. She’s fighting like hell to come back to you.”

Judy’s breath came uneven, shallow. She hugged herself tighter, trying to contain the ache.

“She’d light up like a kid on Christmas morning whenever she got a message from you,” he said, a small smile tugging at Valerie’s mouth - worn, wistful. “Like the world wasn’t completely falling apart. And I started paying attention. She was a wreck when I first woke up. Broken. Angry. Lost. But then you came into her life… and everything changed. She became someone who wanted to fight. For herself. For you.”

Judy turned back to him, stunned by the honesty in his voice. It didn’t sound like Johnny Silverhand she had braced herself for. It sounded like someone who had finally understood what love could look like.

“You’re her calm in the storm,” he said. “I’ve seen it—every time she’s near you, something in her quiets. It’s like the chaos fades, even if just for a minute. You keep her grounded. Even when she tries to pretend she doesn’t need it. She loves you.”

Judy’s heart skipped a beat. She had always tried to be there for Valerie, to help her through the chaos of her life, but she hadn’t realized how much Val had leaned on her, how much she’d meant to her.

“I need you to promise me something.”

She blinked, voice caught in her throat. “What is it?”

“Promise me you’ll take care of her,” he said, his eyes searching hers with a rare seriousness. “When I’m gone—when it’s just her again—don’t let her slip away. Don’t give up on her. She’s going to try, Jude. She’s going to convince herself you’re safer without her, that pushing you away is some kind of mercy. Don’t let her do that. You’re the one thing in this fucked-up world that keeps her human.”

The tears came fast and hot, spilling down her cheeks before she could stop them. She pressed a trembling hand to her mouth and nodded. “I promise,” she said, voice breaking.

“That’s all I needed to hear.”

They stood in silence after that, the city humming quietly below them, distant and irrelevant. The moment stretched, suspended in something too heavy to name. Judy’s heart felt like it might break, but there was a strange kind of peace, too. The pain wasn’t fully gone, but something in her had steadied. Strengthened. She let herself believe - fully, deeply - that Valerie would come back to her. And she would be waiting.

Johnny rolled his neck and gave one last glance at the sky. “Alright, kid. Let’s pop those pills.”

His voice was lighter, but Judy heard the finality in it.

“I’m ready.”

Chapter Text

Chapter XXIII | Watch You Sleep
But we're safe here, under the sheets. I don't ever wanna leave.

Judy lay awake beneath the thin blanket, eyes fixed on the ceiling like it might offer answers if she stared hard enough. The sheets were tangled around her legs, twisted by hours of tossing, turning, and bargaining with a restless mind that refused to let her drift.

Johnny’s voice haunted her like a whisper in the walls, looping again and again, too raw to silence.

“You’re not just some distraction or safety net for her. You’re her reason.”

He’d said Val would come back, that she wasn’t gone - not really. That there was still a fight happening behind those eyes. Judy had clung to that promise like a lifeline in stormy seas, her knuckles white with the effort. But the doubt… the doubt was a creeping thing, and it had sharp little teeth. What if Johnny had only said what he thought she needed to hear? What if Valerie was already gone - lost somewhere between code and consequence?

Her throat tightened at the thought, heart twisting in a way that felt more like bruising than sorrow. Because if Val was truly lost, then what had it all been for? All the risks, all the blood and stubborn belief - it would mean nothing. Just another soul swallowed up by a world that fed on hope like it was a drug. Just another name scrawled in static and forgotten.

She never even got to say goodbye. She couldn’t bear it. Wouldn’t. No. Val was coming back. She had to. She promised.

Earlier that night, her hands had trembled as she passed Johnny the blocker pill, the little thing that carried too much meaning. He swallowed it without fuss, offered her a lazy wave like he was just stepping out for a beer and not slipping out of someone else’s skin. He’d sprawled across the mattress like a king claiming land that wasn’t his - Valerie’s limbs bent and folded in the wrong ways, her mouth slack, her breath even. Judy had watched him lie there - the shape was familiar, but the soul was missing.

The worst part? She’d wanted to climb in next to him. Her body ached with it - starved for warmth, for the familiar scent of Val’s skin, for the comfort of muscle memory and stolen kisses beneath threadbare sheets. But she couldn’t. Wouldn’t. It wasn’t her, and pretending wouldn’t help. It felt like betrayal to even consider it.

So, she’d taken the second bed, hoping the distance would give her peace.

It hadn’t. Hours later, her heart was still racing, her thoughts circling like vultures over a carcass. With a soft, frustrated sigh, Judy rolled onto her side. Her eyes landed on the other bed – and she froze.

There she was. Or at least, it looked like her. Not sprawled or possessed or twisted. But curled on her side, like always. Her blue hair fanned across the pillow in a messy halo, her lips parted just slightly, the steady rise and fall of her chest gentle, rhythmic, real. It hit Judy like a punch to the gut - so normal, so painfully her that for a second she forgot how to breathe.

She didn’t move at first. Didn’t dare. Her body was tense, caught between disbelief and desperate hope. What if it was still Johnny? What if it was just muscle memory, just a shell?

But her heart surged, fragile and fierce. She had to know.

Carefully, as if the floor might splinter beneath her, Judy slipped out of bed. She padded over on silent feet, her breath tight in her lungs. Each step felt like a prayer she didn’t know how to finish. And then she was there - beside her - close enough to touch.

She slipped under the covers slowly, the mattress dipping with her weight. The heat of Valerie’s body seeped into her skin, familiar and grounding. Judy pressed herself close, fitting her body to hers like they were pieces of the same puzzle. Her arms curled around her instinctively, her face tucked into the curve of Val’s shoulder.

She didn’t know if this was real. Didn’t care.

It felt real. It had to be her.

The scent of her skin, the softness of it, the quiet strength in the way her body breathed - it all surrounded Judy like a lullaby, wrapping around the raw ache in her chest. She held on tight, as if she could keep Valerie there through sheer will, as if her love could anchor her to this world and not the next.

Then it happened. Arms - strong, familiar, achingly hers - tightened around Judy. The embrace was instinctual, unconscious, but it was Valerie. Judy’s breath caught, her eyes stinging. The way she was held, like something precious, like something missed - it undid her.

She looked up, barely daring to hope.

But no. Val’s eyes were still closed. Her expression was peaceful, calm. The embrace had been automatic, something her body did without waking. The arms around her had pulled Judy closer, holding her like she belonged there.

And she did.

Judy’s body relaxed at last, the weight on her chest lifting, even if only for the night. Her cheek pressed against Val’s shoulder, her hand resting over her heart. After hours of restlessness, of tossing and turning, it was strange how suddenly calm she felt. The silence was no longer unbearable - it was comforting. It was filled with breath, warmth, presence. It soothed Judy in a way nothing else could ever have.

For the first time in what felt like eternity, she felt safe. As if, somehow, everything might actually be okay.

Her breathing slowed, her mind finally quieting, and as sleep began to pull her under, she clung to one last, fragile hope - that when morning came, it would be Valerie who would be stirring beside her.

The first thing Judy felt was touch - soft as breath, gentle as a whisper. Fingers brushed the curve of her cheek, feather-light, but unmistakably familiar. It stirred her from the haze of sleep, tugging her from its depths with a care that made her heart flutter before she was even fully awake.

She blinked slowly, the weak light of early morning spilling like smoke across the room. Her mind was still swimming in fragments of last night, the impossible weight of fear that had clung to her like a second skin. But all of that faded when she met the gaze hovering just inches from hers - gray irises, warm and clear.

Judy’s breath caught in her throat. Those eyes - soft, unreadable, carrying a tenderness that nearly undid her - looked at her like she was the only thing left in the world worth seeing. There was a small, crooked smirk pulling at Val’s lips, the kind that used to drive Judy crazy, the kind that said everything without saying a word. God, she’d missed that expression. That face.

“Mornin’,” Valerie murmured, voice husky, low, and laced with the barest tease.

Judy didn’t answer. She surged forward, wrapping her arms around Valerie with such sudden force that the mattress dipped beneath them and for a moment it felt like the whole world might tilt. Valerie caught her without hesitation, arms circling Judy’s waist, steady and grounding, holding her with a quiet strength.

And then Judy broke. She buried her face in the warm space between Val’s neck and shoulder, the scent flooding her senses. Her body trembled as the tears came, hot and blinding, slipping down her cheeks in streams that soaked into Valerie’s worn shirt. Every muscle in her body uncoiled, every ounce of held-back dread crashing loose.

“Fuck…” she breathed, words choked and fragile. “You’re back. You’re really back.”

She clung to her like she might vanish again, like this was a dream her mind had conjured out of grief and longing, and any moment she’d wake up in that too-empty bed. But Valerie didn’t fade. She held her tighter.

“I’m here,” Valerie whispered against her hair, one hand rubbing slow circles into her back, the other wrapped protectively around her shoulders.

They stayed like that for a long time - no clock ticking, no city noise to interrupt, just the sound of their breathing, the quiet weight of reunion. Eventually, Judy pulled back just enough to see her partner's face again, her vision blurred with tears, but her smile cracked through them anyway.

“I was so fuckin’ scared,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “I thought I lost you. For good.”

Val’s gaze dropped for a beat, shadowed with guilt. She reached up and wiped away one of Judy’s tears with her thumb, her touch soft, reverent. “I’m sorry, Jude,” she said, the words soaked in regret. “I’m so fuckin’ sorry. But I’m here now.”

Judy leaned in and kissed her. It wasn’t rushed, or desperate. It was slow, grounding. A kiss to remind herself that Valerie was indeed here, that she was warm, still breathing. Real. When they broke apart, she rested her forehead against Val’s, her fingers still tangled in her hair.

Valerie pressed a kiss to the back of her hand, then looked up with a hint of that same teasing glint. “So… what happened, exactly? Last thing I remember was you giving us some kind of pep talk in the locker room.”

“You started bleeding, Val. It was bad. You had fever, couldn’t stand on your own. I dragged you into the showers hoping the cold water would help—do something, anything.” She looked down, her voice unsteady. “But then Johnny took over.”

Val raised an eyebrow. “Johnny, huh?” Her tone was curious, a bit amused. “Was he a total asshole?”

“No, actually.” A quiet laugh slipped out of Judy, and she shook her head. “He was... different. We talked. Had a moment. He’s a hell lot more complicated than I thought he was.”

Valerie hummed, but didn’t push it. They watched each other for a few seconds more, their breaths softening as the room fell quiet, the weight of everything they’d endured settling between them like a silent pact. Then, Valerie reached out and tucked a loose strand of hair behind Judy’s ear. Her knuckles grazed her cheek as she lingered, then pulled her into another embrace - this one quieter, less frantic.

Judy rested her head on her shoulder, her arms circling her waist, holding her like an anchor. And Valerie held her like she meant to never let go again.

“I’m sorry,” Val said again, barely more than a breath. Her voice was rougher this time, laced with pain. “For what I put you through. For... not winning. I tried to fight it, Jude, I did. But the relic—”

“We did what we could,” Judy cut in softly. She leaned back to look into her eyes, her hand coming up to cup her partner’s cheek. “Don’t worry ‘bout it. There’ll be another shot. Another chance.”

Val’s eyes searched hers, but something in Judy’s voice steadied her. Her hand came up to cover the one on her cheek, holding it tight. Her thumb moved over Judy’s knuckles in slow, thoughtful strokes.

“I thought I’d lost you,” Judy whispered. “None of it mattered anymore. I didn’t care, because—none of it mattered without you. I thought I’d be stuck with Johnny, and that all this—” she gestured vaguely between them, “everything we fought for—was just gonna disappear.”

Valerie’s fingers tightened slightly. Her voice, when she spoke, was low but certain. “I’ll always come back to you.”

Judy sat cross-legged on the edge of the bed, phone in hand, her thumb absently scrolling through a screen she wasn’t truly seeing. The soft, rhythmic hiss of the shower leaked from the adjoining bathroom, wrapping the room in a muted calm. It was a sound she’d grown to love - a quiet reminder that Valerie was here, safe, and just behind that door. Judy could let herself relax - if only just a little.

They had one more day. One last breath of borrowed peace before the flight home, before they’d be miles away from each other again. Already, the ache of separation had begun to bloom behind her ribs, steady and slow. The thought of waking up without Valerie tangled beside her, of reaching out in the middle of the night and finding only sheets - cold, empty sheets - made her throat tighten.

The past few weeks had carved themselves into her in quiet ways. Stolen mornings, whispered conversations about their dreams, Valerie’s gentle touch just before the world came rushing back. Judy had grown used to that presence, to the grounding steadiness of Val's body beside hers. Now, the idea of that absence clawed at her. The thought of letting her go - even for a while - made Judy’s heart twist.

Valerie had promised she’d come back. Looked her straight in the eyes and said it like a vow. And Judy had believed her. Still did. But the world didn’t always care about promises, not when the FIA was involved. Not when people like Myers were playing games too big to see the edges of. And deep down, buried beneath the stubborn faith she kept clinging to, lived the gnawing fear that one day the cost would be too high. That someone would make a choice, and Valerie wouldn’t be able to come home.

She shoved the thought away before it could tighten further. Today, she would hold onto every moment she had left with Val.

The door creaked open. Her head jerked up, tension flashing through her spine like a current, only to settle into something heavier when she saw who stood in the doorway. Rita stepped in first, followed closely by Meredith. Their eyes swept the room with a shared look that spoke more than either of them said. Judy's stomach twisted.

“Hey,” she greeted warily, sliding her phone screen off and setting it aside.

Meredith didn’t reply. She was already moving - past the bed, past Judy - straight toward the bathroom.

“Wait—what the fuck—Val’s in there!” Judy half-rose to her feet, instinctively, heart lurching at the thought of someone storming in on Valerie mid-shower.

Rita caught her arm gently and guided her back down, settling beside her with calm, practiced ease. “Relax, Cap,” she said, voice soft but firm, her hand warm on Judy’s shoulder. “Bakker’s her rookie, ‘member? I’m willin’ to bet Stout’s seen her in more compromisin’ situations than you have. She’s just checkin’ in.”

Judy didn’t answer. Her jaw was tight. She hated the quiet authority in Rita’s voice, how effortlessly it carved beneath her own tension. Hated even more how it made her feel like she was the one being managed.

“We’re fine,” she said after a moment, her voice thinner than she intended. “Both of us.”

Rita didn’t move. She just looked at her. The usual humor in her expression had been scrubbed away, replaced by something quieter. Sharper.

“You sure?” Rita’s voice didn’t change much - still calm, still even - but there was a thread of insistence wound through it, one that refused to be brushed off. “’Cause I got my hunches. And I know when you’re lying to me.”

Judy froze. The words didn’t sting – not exactly - but they settled into her stomach like stones dropped into deep water. Slowly sinking.

The silence between them stretched.

She wanted to tell her the truth. That was the hell of it. Rita was one of the few people left she still trusted without condition. But that trust went both ways. If she said the wrong thing, pulled Rita into the orbit of whatever the FIA was doing, she’d be putting her in danger too. And Judy had made promises. Ones she wouldn’t break - not to Valerie, not to herself.

“Val was… dehydrated. Sore. Still not fully healed after the last injury,” Judy kept her voice level, her tone practiced. Not too casual, not too clinical. Just enough concern to seem real. “She needed time. Rest. That’s all this is.”

The purple-haired defender didn’t blink. Didn’t break eye contact. Judy forced a smile anyway, soft and reassuring.

“She’s okay now,” she added. “So am I. You don’t need to worry, Reet.”

For a long moment, Rita said nothing. Just sat there, watching her with those sharp eyes. Eyes that knew how to read a situation six moves ahead. Eyes that missed nothing.

Finally, she let out a quiet sigh. “There’s something you’re not telling me,” she murmured, her voice more resigned than accusatory. “I’m offended, really. Thought we were past the whole ‘playing it close’ phase. You know, you can talk to me. Anytime.”

Judy smiled again, this time a little more genuine. She reached out, squeezing the taller woman’s hand once. “I know. And I appreciate it. Really. But we’ve got it handled.”

Rita studied her for a beat longer, then gave a small nod. “A'ight. But if that changes—”

“You’ll be the first to know,” Judy finished for her.

She could only hope that was enough to keep her friend’s fears at bay – at least for now.

The bathroom door creaked open. Both women turned. Meredith stepped out, her face unreadable. She met no one’s gaze, didn’t say a word. Just gave a brisk nod to Rita before slipping out the door and closing it quietly behind her. Judy’s eyes lingered on it, unease returning like a tide.

Rita stood, brushing a hand down her jeans as she reached for the doorknob.

“Team dinner’s at five,” she said casually, though her gaze stayed on Judy’s face just a moment longer. “Everyone’s expected. Even you two lovebirds.”

Judy nodded, managing a faint smile. “Wouldn’t miss it.”

The door clicked shut behind her. Judy exhaled slowly, letting her weight sink into the pillows behind her as if the air had been knocked from her lungs. Her phone, still clutched loosely in one hand, had long since gone dark. Absentmindedly, she drew slow circles across the black screen with her thumb, though her thoughts were far from it.

The silence Meredith left in her wake was a strange kind of loud. Tense. Disruptive. What had she said to Val? What had Val not said to her? What was it all about?

The questions hovered in the room like static - buzzing, unanswered, and impossible to ignore. She didn’t want them. But they came anyway.

A soft rustle signaled movement, and then Valerie stepped out of the bathroom, towel in hand, damp hair clinging to her temples and neck. Her brow was faintly furrowed, lost in some thought she didn’t voice. When their eyes met, she offered Judy a small, tentative smile, like someone easing open a door they weren’t sure they had the right to unlock.

Judy’s gaze stayed on her, searching. “What was that about?” she asked quietly. “Meredith, I mean. She just walked right in like she owned the place.”

Valerie’s smile wavered, the corner of her mouth dipping before she masked it with a casual toss of the towel. “She wanted to check on me,” she said lightly. Too lightly. The words felt like they were picked from a drawer labeled safe. “Are you jealous?” she added, smirking, but the edge was thin, stretched tight.

Judy rolled her eyes, but the motion didn’t shake off the prickling irritation beneath her ribs. That wasn’t the point, and Val knew it. There was something unsaid here. Something shifting just beneath the surface of her words. Judy could feel it in the pause between their glances, in the way Valerie’s shoulders were just a little too tense.

She wanted to push. To demand the full truth, unfiltered and raw. But the clock was already ticking on their time together. The weight of their borrowed hours pressed heavy against her sternum. So, instead of pushing, she swallowed it.

Her voice softened, her expression somewhere between teasing and earnest. “Well, you’re mine,” she said, a wry little tilt to her lips. “So no, I’m not exactly thrilled about her waltzing in while you’re naked and dripping wet.”

Valerie laughed, the sound easy and familiar, and her fingers reached across the bed to tangle with Judy’s. “Jude,” she murmured, her voice gentler now. “I’m yours. I meant it. Meredith was just… checking in. You know how she is. Boundaries aren’t exactly her thing.”

Judy held onto her hand, but her eyes searched Valerie’s face. Not suspicious, just attuned. Listening not to what she said, but to what might’ve been left unsaid. And still, after a beat, she exhaled slowly and let herself lean back into the pillows.

It wasn’t worth ruining the time they had left.

“We’ve got a few hours until this dinner thing,” she said, letting her thumb sweep softly across Valerie’s knuckles. “What do you wanna do with our last day?”

Valerie’s eyes lit with something warmer - playful, but soft at the edges - and she eased onto the mattress beside her, brushing a stray lock of hair from Judy’s face. “Actually… I was thinking we could go outside,” she said. “Take a walk along the beach. If you’re up for it.”

Judy blinked, caught off guard. For a moment, she’d assumed they’d stay right here, curled up, letting the world exist somewhere far away. But there was something in Valerie’s gaze - a quiet insistence, a need to breathe deeper, to step beyond the confines of walls and ghosts - that sparked a flicker of heat in Judy’s chest.

She smiled, slow and quiet, and curled her fingers tighter around Valerie’s. “Yeah,” she said. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

The tide whispered at their ankles as they moved in quiet tandem down the shoreline, the hush of the waves folding gently around them. Barefoot, Judy and Valerie walked across the damp, rippling sand, their steps slow and aimless, the world pared down to breeze, salt, and skin. Behind them, the hotel - and everything it represented - felt like another life. They’d left their phones on the nightstand, unspoken agreement sealing off the noise. Out here, it was just them. A temporary exile.

The beach stretched long and golden, curving endlessly beneath a sky so wide it made Judy’s chest ache. Above, gulls wheeled lazily. The sea was a soft roar beside them, its breath steady, eternal. Far ahead, the horizon melted into the sky — a blurred blue line where one world dissolved into another.

Judy’s hand was twined with Valerie’s, the grip loose but constant. She held it like a lifeline. They didn’t talk, didn’t need to. They’d already said everything that mattered.

Eventually, they reached a cove cradled by dark cliffs, the world falling away behind jagged stone. A few surfers dotted the distant waves, slicing arcs across the water like brushstrokes. Valerie gave Judy’s hand a gentle tug.

“Let’s stay a while,” she murmured.

She lowered herself to the sand, leaning back and drawing Judy with her, settling her between her legs. Judy came easily, folding into Valerie’s warmth. One of Val’s arms wrapped around her waist, the other pressed into the sand behind them for balance. Judy let her body relax, the tension in her shoulders slipping away as her head found its place against Valerie’s collarbone.

She could hear her heartbeat, strong and steady, feel the heat of her breath brushing her temple. Judy’s fingers found Val’s hand where it rested against her stomach, and she toyed with it absently - tracing the weathered ridges of her knuckles, the small calluses that mapped a life lived hard. She let her gaze drift out to the ocean, where the surfers rose and fell with each swell. The rhythm of it - up, down, glide - calmed something in her, reminded her how little control any of them really had.

She didn’t want to think about what waited for them after this - the return flights, the surgery, the separation. She didn’t want to think about the shard in Val’s neural port, or the ever-tightening leash the FIA kept wrapped around her. Didn’t want to remember Johnny’s smirk across Valerie’s features. She thought she’d lost her that night. But Valerie was here. With her. Still breathing. And that had to count for something.

So, she didn’t speak. Didn’t ask questions with no answers. She just leaned into the comfort of Valerie’s presence - the pressure of her arm snug across her stomach, the familiar scent of salt and skin and citrus. Judy closed her eyes for a beat, memorizing the rise and fall of the chest behind her, the way they fit together like a lock sliding into place. Tomorrow the world would rise again, and they’d each be swept away again, paths splitting in different directions. But here, in the shade of the cliffs with the sea stretching endlessly in front of them, they had carved out something untouched. A brief rebellion. A pause in the chaos.

They sat like that for a long time - Judy nestled against Valerie, both quiet, both still - listening to the lull of the waves and the wind winding its way through the rocks. And even as her chest tightened with the knowledge of how fleeting and borrowed it all was, Judy let herself believe, just for a little longer, that this moment might last.

She clung to Valerie’s promise - the echo of it still lingering like the warmth of a hand just withdrawn. A vow to find her way back to her. Someday. Somehow.

Eventually, Val’s voice broke through the quiet, a low murmur against her ear, delicate as the brush of lips. “I’ll miss this so much.”

She pressed a kiss to Judy’s temple - light, but heavy with meaning, as though trying to pour every unsaid word into the softness of that touch. Judy tilted her head, her gaze catching her girlfriend’s. There it was - the storm in Valerie’s eyes, always roiling, always sharp. But today, there was something else behind it too. Something quieter. Sadder. A tenderness that wrapped its hands around Judy’s heart and squeezed.

“Just being with you,” Val continued, voice raw. “Just like this. No worries, no one watching, no one chasing. Just us. I’ll miss our little bubble… I’ll miss you, Jude. So fuckin’ much.”

The weight of it hit Judy like a wave pulling at her chest. She felt the catch in her throat, the way her breath faltered under the pressure of everything they weren’t saying. She reached up without thinking, cupping Valerie’s cheek, and leaned in - pressing her lips to hers in a kiss that was part farewell, part desperate tether. Fierce and tender. Soft but burning with urgency. She poured it all into that kiss - the love, the fear, the ache of impending loss, and the hope that some part of them might survive the unraveling.

When they finally parted, neither pulled away completely. Judy's fingers moved instinctively, tracing the familiar contours of Valerie’s face - cheekbones, jawline, the little scar near her temple, another at her brow - as if she could memorize it all by touch. The contours she’d crave later. A map of someone she didn’t want to lose.

And for a few precious seconds, the world fell away. Just two souls pressed close, clinging to what time remained.

But then someone passed along the beach nearby and the moment shifted. Quietly, inevitably, the spell frayed. They leaned back, settling once again into each other, gazes turned toward the sea. The tide was coming in now, waves rolling forward with their quiet power.

After a while, Valerie spoke again. Her voice was lower this time, hushed, almost lost to the sea’s endless lull. “I’m scared,” she whispered, and buried her face against Judy’s neck. Her breath was warm against skin, but Judy could feel the tremble in it.

“About the surgery?” Judy asked, fingers seeking out Val’s hand again.

The blue-haired woman hesitated. “Yeah… that too. But more than that, I’m scared they’ll try something. That they’ll come after you. And I won’t be there to stop it.”

“I can take care of myself, Val,” Judy murmured. Her voice was quiet, but the truth in it was iron. She had before. She would again, if she had to.

But Valerie’s grip only tightened around her, arms cinching closer, as if she could stitch them together and freeze this moment in time. Judy felt that plea in the way her partner held her - the desperation to keep something solid in a world that kept shifting under their feet.

“Just don’t do anything reckless, alright?” Valerie's voice cracked on the edge of it. “They’re dangerous. You know that.”

Judy shifted slightly, brushing a kiss against the sharp line of Valerie’s jaw, feeling the tension in it. “Could say the same about you,” she murmured.

Valerie’s grin returned, but her eyes stayed serious. “Yeah,” she said softly, “I thought you’d catch on.” A flicker of mischief sparked beneath the exhaustion. “Guess you figured out Mer didn’t just come to check on me.”

Judy tilted her head, her own smile small and knowing. “Val, I’m not stupid. I talked with her after semifinals. She didn’t say it outright, but… she knew. She saw I missed that free kick on purpose. Maybe she doesn’t have the full picture, but she’s got enough of it. Still… I didn’t want to talk about it. Didn’t want to drag it in here with us.” Her hand found Val’s again, fingers tracing gentle shapes. “I just wanted today to be ours.”

Valerie went quiet again, her eyes turning toward the ocean - gray on gray, as if trying to read something in the water. “She came with an offer,” she said at last, voice rough. “She knows about the Relic. Not everything, but enough. Thinks Militech might want it. Thinks they could help. But she doesn’t know it’s in my head, eating me from the inside.” She paused. “I don’t know if I can trust them, Jude. I don’t know if I can trust anyone.”

Judy turned toward her, cupping her face again with both hands. There was a tremor in her chest, but her voice came steady. “Then don’t,” she said. “You can’t afford to. The only person you can rely on right now is you. You know how they play. You’ve lived it. Don’t throw everything away on a half-baked plan. Don’t leave me with just the memory of you.”

Her voice caught then, just a little - but she kept her gaze locked on Valerie’s. “You promised me you’d find your way back. Hold on to that. Please.”

Val’s smile was a ghost of itself - sad and crooked and barely there. She leaned in, resting her forehead against Judy’s, the silence between them thick with everything that hadn’t been said. “I won’t let you down,” she whispered. “No matter how long it takes, no matter what I have to do. I’m not giving up on us, Jude. I’ll come back to you. I swear it.”

And then, just like that - like flicking on a light in a dark room - Valerie pulled away, that familiar glint flashing in her eyes. It was the look Judy knew better than any other - the defiant spark that meant she hadn’t given up, not even close. That no matter the wreckage smoldering behind them, Val was still fighting, still clawing her way toward something better.

“But you’re right. This afternoon’s ours. No more of this sad bullshit.”

She rose with sudden, kinetic energy, stripping down to her underwear without hesitation. Her clothes fluttered to the sand like forgotten burdens, and she shot Judy a grin - feral, radiant, wild - and then she was gone, a flash of muscle and laughter darting toward the sea. Her feet kicked up little explosions of sand, and then she dove headfirst into the waves, disappearing beneath their darkening crest like something born of water and wind.

Judy stayed frozen for a moment longer, watching the ocean swallow her girl whole. A small, incredulous smile tugged at her lips, softening the tension still coiled in her chest. She moved forward, slow and barefoot, the sand cool beneath her soles, and stepped into the surf. The ocean reached for her like an old friend, cold fingers brushing against her ankles, sending a shiver racing up her spine.

Then Valerie burst from the water with a whoop, droplets cascading off her like glittering threads, her arms flung wide as she half-jogged, half-stumbled back toward shore. Before Judy could brace herself, she was scooped into a dripping embrace, Val’s soaked skin pressing against hers as she spun her in a dizzy circle, laughter spilling from both of them.

“It’s freezing!” Judy gasped, clutching at her arms as goosebumps sprang to life across her skin.

Valerie grinned wider, water running in rivulets down her face, her eyes bright with mischief. “Don’t be such a baby,” she said, voice teasing, already reaching for her again. “You’re going in.”

Judy took a step back, raising her eyebrows in mock offense. “Sure, let me just go grab my will and obol for the afterlife. The hell I am, Val.”

“Oh, you’re definitely going in.”

Before Judy could make a run for it, Valerie lunged, catching her in one swift motion. Judy squirmed, laughing and protesting, but it was half-hearted at best. Her arms wound instinctively around Val’s shoulders, legs looping easily around her waist. And just like that, the resistance faded.

Something shifted then. The playful chaos stilled for a breath, and Valerie’s gaze found hers again - steady, quiet, full of that same fierce affection that always made Judy feel like the only real thing in the world. Without a word, she leaned in and kissed her - slow and lingering, a warm press of lips that tasted of salt and breathlessness.

Then, arms tightening around her, Valerie carried them both back toward the sea. The water rose around them, cool and rising fast, lapping at Judy’s back as they moved deeper. When it reached Val’s shoulders, she paused, grinning against Judy’s mouth - and without breaking their kiss, let herself fall backward, pulling them both under.

The world became water. Cold, all-consuming. It wrapped around them like a second skin, shocking and beautiful, and when they resurfaced, gasping and laughing, the sun caught the droplets on their skin like molten glass.

Judy’s fingers reached out, brushing gently along the edge of Valerie’s jaw, tracing the sharp line of it, the familiar steadiness of her. Her heartbeat pulsed beneath her touch, strong and steady. And in that moment, suspended between sky and sea, held in the arms of the woman who loved her, Judy felt something rare settle in her chest.

Not just happiness. Not just desire. Freedom.

And it felt like flying.

Chapter Text

Chapter XXIV | A Fragile Thing
Nothing you can do to change the end.

Judy caught the weight of Valerie’s gaze before she even turned around. It wasn’t just the quiet creak of the bathroom doorframe or the scent that always seemed to cling to her - it was the way Valerie looked. Like the world didn’t exist beyond the threshold of her vision. That look, sharp and steady, made Judy’s pulse stutter every damn time. It was the type of stare that could make anyone forget their own name. It carved into her spine like a whisper she could feel. And tonight, as she applied the last stroke of dark red lipstick, meeting Val’s eyes in the mirror, she felt it again - like being lit from the inside out.

Val leaned casually against the frame, arms folded, that barely-there smirk playing at her lips, but her eyes - those were serious. Drinking Judy in like she might vanish if she looked away.

That gaze had always unraveled her. Slowly. Patiently. The way storm tides wore down a cliffside until all that was left was something softer. It amazed her, how easy it was to fall for Valerie. It didn’t matter how many walls she’d built before - Val didn’t knock them down. She slipped past them like smoke, like she belonged there. Judy never stood a chance. She’d fallen long ago. Maybe it started back on the pitch, when that cocky rookie squared off against Rita with blood on her jaw and something dangerous in her smile. Or maybe it was the way she texted after – direct, teasingly, careless.

And somehow, even when Judy found out what haunted Valerie, when the shadows of her past finally came to light, she hadn’t run. She couldn’t. She stayed, not out of some misguided savior instinct, but because leaving was unthinkable. Because it wasn’t pity that rooted her to Val - it was love, fierce and raw, terrifying in its depth. A thing so absolute it felt inevitable. Like maybe every fucked-up thing that happened before had been dragging them toward this moment.

The last few weeks had passed like a fever dream - snatched moments and tangled limbs and whispered truths in the dark. It had been intense, overwhelming, sometimes too much. But Judy never wanted less. She wouldn’t trade a second of it. She didn’t want the edges dulled. She wanted all of it - every cracked corner of Valerie’s soul, every kiss that tasted like goodbye, every breathless second that reminded her what it meant to be known. To be seen. To be loved.

It was sappy, it was too soon for promises, and if she was honest, it was more than a little terrifying. But being here with Valerie, seeing that look in her eyes, feeling her steady presence, it all just felt right. For once, she wouldn’t let herself doubt it. She wouldn’t let herself doubt her. Whatever was to come, whatever lay ahead, she knew without question that she loved this woman, that she’d give anything to keep feeling this way.

And now? Now it was almost over. The world felt bittersweet, sharper somehow, knowing this was one of their last moments together before everything would change again. The act was about to begin, and what they had - what they were - would have to be hidden, buried under layers of lies for the benefit of those watching.

She hated it.

Valerie stepped forward, closing the distance in three sure strides, the scent of her skin - clean, familiar, unique - curling into the space between them. She didn’t touch her at first. Just stood there, eyes hungry, taking Judy in like she was memorizing her. Judy’s fingers moved instinctively, brushing down the front of Val’s jacket, smoothing a shoulder that didn’t need it, fixing a tie she knew was already perfect. Her thumb lingered against the silk. She grinned. A slow, deliberate thing.

“You ready?” Valerie asked, her voice a low hum, full of that maddening calm she wore like armor.

Judy didn’t answer.

Instead, she yanked the tie tight with a sharp pull, her fingers grazing Valerie’s throat, feeling the hitch in her breath. That subtle crack in control.

“I don’t like this plan, Val.” Her voice came quiet, edged in steel. “Not a bit. Too many ways it could go to shit.”

She leaned in, close enough that her lips brushed against her partner’s ear.

“And if it does,” she whispered, “don’t you dare forget who you belong to.”

Valerie's expression faltered. For a moment, the walls dropped - every calculated mask, every soldier’s stoicism. What Judy saw then hit her like a punch - naked affection, fierce and aching. A kind of surrender neither of them could speak aloud. She didn’t let herself linger in it. Couldn’t afford to.

Instead, she pulled Valerie into a kiss that was all hunger and fury, something sharp and fast and full of teeth. Her hands slid up into that soft blue hair, gripping hard, pulling, demanding. Her mouth moved against Val’s with bruising intensity, lips stained red now painting themselves across her lover’s skin in messy, territorial smears. It wasn’t just a kiss - it was a brand, an unmistakable reminder that, no matter what show they put on for Alex tonight, Valerie was hers. Hers only. And Judy would burn the world down to make sure it stayed that way.

She nipped at Valerie’s lower lip before deepening the kiss again, tongue sliding against hers with a desperation that said everything she couldn’t. The thought of what lay ahead clawed at her insides. She hated it - every twisted bit of it - but she understood why it had to happen. Still, before the act, before they had to paint their love as fractured and fragile, Judy needed this moment to anchor them both, to make sure Valerie knew exactly where and to whom she belonged.

When they finally parted, both of them breathless, Val looked wrecked in the best way - lipstick-stained, dazed, a quiet growl hiding behind the low rise and fall of her chest. Judy stepped back, barely, just enough to find the mirror again. She grabbed the tube of lipstick and reapplied it in practiced swipes, her hand steady despite the storm in her chest.

“Let’s go over the plan one more time,” she said, her voice low and sure. Their eyes met in the mirror, her own reflection steady, no trace of the fear curling like smoke behind her ribs.

Valerie dragged a towel across her mouth, cleaning up the mess Judy had left. Her hands trembled, betraying the simmering desire beneath. Judy could tell from the look in her girlfriend’s eyes that part of her wanted to forget everything else, to stay wrapped up here in this room, rip that dress of her body and fuck her against the wall.

But instead, she took a steadying breath and straightened, regaining her composure, though a small, wicked smile lingered at the corners of her mouth.

“I’ll approach her first…”

The lobby shimmered with energy, a churning sea of voices and movement, laughter ringing out beneath the vaulted ceilings and warm amber lights. The polished floors caught every reflection - of sharp heels, quick glances, half-meant smiles. Judy moved through it beside Valerie, shoulder brushing against hers in fleeting contact, the nearness a comfort and a curse.

Val’s hand found hers briefly - just a touch, barely there - before slipping away again like water through fingers. A silent squeeze, a flash of understanding, and then nothing. The quiet nod they exchanged was more than agreement - it was an oath. They both knew what had to be done tonight. And they both knew what it would cost. Because tonight, the truth of them - the easy closeness, the bruising tenderness - would be masked by layers of pretense. Judy would pretend the ache didn’t dig beneath her ribs every time Valerie pulled away. Valerie would pretend she didn’t see or care about it.

Judy peeled off toward the gathering of familiar faces while Valerie drifted to the far wall, where Alex leaned, arms crossed, detached like she was above the noise.

Panam, Carol, Claire, Roxanne, and Rita stood in a loose circle, their conversation alive and easy, stitched together by the story of a karaoke night after one of the league’s games. Roxanne threw her head back mid-sentence, mimicking a tragic high note Bianca had attempted - the sound was horrendous, and Judy laughed in spite of herself, the kind that flared up suddenly and disappeared just as quick.

Her gaze was already drifting across the room - to Valerie. She was leaning in close to Alex, hand braced on the wall above her shoulder. Too close. The angle of their bodies whispered something private. Val’s mouth moved low, and whatever she said made Alex’s brow lift. She looked amused. Maybe even intrigued. 

Something in Judy went tight. Not rage - not quite. But a sharp, coiled jealousy flared behind her ribs. Completely unwelcome, but undeniably there. Rationally, she knew this was all part of the game. Calculated. Controlled. Just an illusion for the right eyes. But seeing Valerie like that - easy, smiling, fingers close to someone else’s skin - made her stomach twist with something sour and impossible to swallow.

She turned away. Forced her face into a mask of interest as Roxanne launched into another story. But Rita’s gaze cut through the laughter like a scalpel - sharp, deliberate, and aimed straight at her.

“What’s going on over there?” Rita asked, too casual to be innocent.

Judy forced a shrug, kept her voice light. “Nothin’. Val had to talk to her. Some shit to sort out before our departure.”

Rita arched a brow, unconvinced. “Mmhmm.”

Roxanne kept the story going, but Rita hadn’t looked away. She was still watching Judy, waiting for the cracks. And Judy knew - the performance wasn’t just on Valerie’s end. She had to play her part, too.

Then Rita leaned in, her voice low enough to cut through the chatter but not loud enough to draw eyes. “You really okay with this?”

Judy didn’t answer right away. Her throat was dry. Her eyes flicked back to Val, who was still locked in that too-close conversation.

“Your girl’s too close for jus’ talkin’,” Rita added, quiet but firm. “It’s almost like—”

“Yeah, I see it,” Judy cut in, sharper than she meant. She forced a smile, thin and brittle. “Drop it, Reet. Seriously.”

Rita studied her, mouth pressing into a line, but said nothing more.

Judy tried - really tried - to let Roxanne’s voice ground her again. To fall back into the ease of friends and stories and distraction. But her eyes kept drifting. Valerie had turned now, and across the crowd, their gazes caught like two magnets under a table. Valerie’s face was unreadable - impassive, trained blank. But Judy saw it, clear as day. The quiet code in her eyes. The quiet acknowledgment passed between them in an instant, a silent reminder that the bond they shared, despite the layers of deception they had to wear tonight, was still solid. And it helped - just enough to steady the ground beneath her.

But then Valerie shifted, letting her fingers slide from Alex’s shoulder in a slow drag that lasted a breath too long. She made her way back to the group with that same relaxed grace, as if she hadn’t just poured gasoline onto a quiet fire. She draped her arm across Judy’s shoulders, casual, performative - the kind of gesture designed to draw attention, to keep up the ruse.

Judy shrugged her off, casting her a look of feigned irritation that felt all too real. “Get off,” she muttered.

The shift in the group was immediate. Conversation died mid-sentence. Panam’s eyes narrowed, Roxanne looked down, Rita’s jaw clenched.

Valerie raised a brow, her voice smooth, laced with practiced disinterest. “What’s your problem, Jude?”

Judy forced a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “I can play that game too, y’know. Want me to cozy up to someone while you’re standing on the other side of the room, watching?”

Valerie’s smile faded. “Just a friendly talk.”

“Right, a bit too friendly for my liking,” Judy shot back, not able to stop the words as they slipped from her lips.

“I mean it.” Valerie’s voice dropped, cool and measured. “You know I had to talk to her.”

Before Judy could reply, Rita stepped in like a blade unsheathed. “I’m on Alvy’s side. That didn’t look like jus' talkin'.”

Valerie turned her head slowly, her gaze burning. “Back the fuck off, Reet.”

Rita didn’t blink. “Want me to remind you what I said the first time you messed with her? Still got that bat, and it still knows your name.”

A smirk cracked across Valerie’s mouth, dangerous and sharp as broken glass. “You can try. Let’s see who walks away with a broken jaw.”

The tension thickened, taut as wire. Rita took a step forward. Judy was between them in a heartbeat, palms flat against her friend’s chest, her voice quiet but firm. “Don’t.”

She felt Valerie’s stare on her back - heated, searing - but didn’t look. Her gaze drifted, just once, to Alex, still leaning against the wall, grinning like the cat who’d gotten into the cream.

Hook.

“Let it go, Reet,” Judy said softly. “I’ll handle it.”

She grabbed Valerie by the arm and pulled her from the group, around a corner and into the cool hush of an empty hallway. Her fingers dug into Val’s jacket sleeve, not out of anger - not entirely - but because she didn’t know what else to hold onto.

Once they were alone, Judy exhaled hard and pressed her palms to her temples. “I fuckin’ hated that,” she said, voice low and raw, revealing more than she intended.

Valerie stepped closer, her voice a whisper. “I know. I’m sorry.”

She wrapped her arms around Judy. And she let herself be pulled in, arms sliding around her partner’s waist, her cheek resting against her jacket. The rhythm of Valerie’s breathing, the tenderness in her tone, the fire in her eyes - that was real. Everything else was smoke.

“She thinks I’m gonna break your heart,” Val murmured. “Make you hate me. And because she’s the sadistic little shit she is, she wants to help.”

Judy closed her eyes, fingers gripping tighter at the small of Valerie’s back. This was an act, she reminded herself. A shield. A fleeting, necessary lie meant to keep them both safe. They had to make it believable. “Then we give her what she wants,” she whispered. “But don’t ever make me watch that again, Val. Not like that.”

Valerie’s chin dipped, brushing the top of Judy’s head. “Deal.”

They held on for a minute longer, clinging to each other, letting the moment breathe, finding a quiet solace in the closeness before the night and all its demands would pull them apart once more.

The restaurant hummed with low conversation and bursts of laughter, the clink of cutlery and glasses threading through the air. Candlelight shimmered in half-full wine glasses, casting shifting reflections across half-eaten dishes and linen napkins. For a fleeting second, Judy could almost believe in the illusion of ease. Almost.

Across the table, Alex - wearing Daphne’s face - sat with a half-smile curving her lips. It was too subtle to call smug, too pointed to be innocent. Her gaze didn’t wander. It pinned Judy in place, held her there like a butterfly on display. Judy stared back, jaw tight, spine straight, refusing to be the first to look away. Let the agent study her. Let her dig for cracks. She wouldn’t find any. Judy wasn’t about to break.

Valerie’s laugh cut across the table like a bell, bright and untroubled, her whole face lighting up as she leaned closer to Sandra. On the midfielder’s other side, Rachel was already chiming into the conversation, rearranging the salt and pepper shakers like miniature soccer players, drawing mock formations between bites of risotto. Valerie followed the movements with interest, adding commentary, her smile easy, open. Her attention never once flickered to Judy.

That absence stung more than Judy expected.

There were no quiet glances, no secret smirks passed between them. No grounding hand on her thigh under the table. Judy reached out subtly, brushing her fingers against Valerie’s forearm in a quiet bid for closeness, for acknowledgment. But Valerie didn’t pause, didn’t turn. Her focus stayed locked on Rachel, her hands illustrating some counter strategy that had both women laughing again, completely at ease.

Judy’s chest tightened. The absence of Valerie’s protective presence painted a picture they needed, but watching her partner this detached stung more than she’d imagined it would. She knew what Alex saw in that moment - what she would choose to see. The space between her and Valerie wasn’t just distance - it was an invitation. An opening. And Alex, the predator she was, would pounce.

And shit. It felt like being erased in real time.

Judy's hand moved almost without thought, curling around Valerie’s, bringing it gently to her lips. She kissed her palm slowly, deliberately, the red of her lipstick staining Val’s skin in a soft, damning mark. The message wasn’t subtle. It wasn’t meant to be. Her eyes locked with Alex’s across the table, cool and unflinching.

She’s still mine.

But the grin on Daphne’s face only widened, like the agent had been waiting for the show and was enjoying every second of it. Her gaze slid to Valerie - who didn’t even notice the kiss, didn’t glance down at the lipstick, already turning back to Rachel and Sandra and their little battlefield of cutlery they’d assembled on the table.

Judy clenched her jaw as she noticed the lipstick mark had already faded into a smudge, an almost painful metaphor for how distant she felt right now.

“I’m going to the bathroom,” she said quietly. Her voice wasn’t sharp, but it carried. It was meant for Valerie. But the blue-haired woman didn’t lift her eyes, didn’t acknowledge the words. Her laugh followed Judy as she pushed back her chair.

She moved through the maze of tables, her stride steady even as the frustration tangled in her chest. Inside the restroom, she flicked open her compact, leaning into the mirror. Her reflection stared back with perfect eyeliner and disappointment etched just beneath it. She touched up her lips with methodical precision, pressing them together to even out the color.

She let the faint tension coil in her shoulders as she waited, knowing without question what would come next, knowing Alex wouldn’t be far behind. The bathroom door creaked open after few minutes, and Judy felt it before she heard it - like a shift in pressure, a ripple across the still surface of the moment. She didn’t need to turn to know who had stepped inside. The click of the latch was soft, but in the heavy quiet it sounded sharp - intentional, like punctuation at the end of an unspoken threat.

And then, just like that, the mask slid off. Daphne was gone. What remained in her place was Alex. Judy didn’t flinch. She didn’t give her the satisfaction. She kept her eyes on her own reflection, smoothing a faint crease along her neckline with steady fingers, each movement precise, as if she had all the time in the world.

“What can I help you with today, Alex?” she asked calmly, her voice carrying that silk-soft lilt that wrapped itself in frost. Controlled. Indifferent. Poison-dipped honey.

Alex strolled forward and leaned against the counter beside her, folding her arms as she angled her body just so, close enough to crowd the space, close enough to be felt. Her smirk was a slow, deliberate curve of her lips. “Oh, I think you know, sweetheart,” she purred, her words a breath shy of a taunt.

Judy’s face stayed still, her expression carved from stone, but something deep beneath her ribs pulsed - annoyance, maybe, or the earliest flicker of dread. She lifted her chin just slightly, the edge of her voice sharpening like a blade. “If you’ve got something to say, Alex, spit it out. I’m not in the mood for games.”

The blonde tilted her head, amused, the glint in her eyes sharpening like glass under light. “That’s funny,” she murmured, pushing herself off the counter just enough to let the tension hang between them. “Because it looks to me like you’re the one playing make-believe. Pretending. Playing dress-up. Playing house.”

Judy met her gaze in the mirror, her movements unhurried as she applied the final sweep of lipstick. The cap clicked shut like a seal on her composure. She turned then, slow and poised, and faced Alex fully, her shoulders squared.

“If this is about Valerie,” she said, her tone a low thrum of steel beneath velvet, “there’s really no need for the theatrics. Nothing changed since our talk in the elevator. You can’t break us apart.”

Alex’s smirk grew sharper, hungry even. Her gaze swept over Judy like a slow, deliberate scan, designed to wound. “Is that what you tell yourself at night?” she asked softly, stepping in just a little closer. “That she’s still yours? That what you have is anything more than a memory she’s already trying to escape? If you haven’t noticed yet, it looks like she’s... distracted tonight. Maybe she’s finally starting to see things for what they are. That this... relationship has no future. No happy ending. That it was just a fling. And you should move on.”

The words hit like tiny poisonous darts, small but sharp, and Judy felt the first flare of heat crawl up the back of her neck. But she held. She crossed her arms, leaning casually against the sink, matching Alex’s posture like a mirror reflection warped by intent.

Deep down she knew it was all a show. A painful one, though.

“You think sneaking around and whispering bullshit in corners is gonna bring her back to you?” Judy asked, her voice steady, a cool counterbalance to the fire building inside her.

Alex shrugged, nonchalant. “Who said she ever left?” she said, eyes gleaming. “Maybe you were just a distraction. A little detour. Maybe she’s finally waking up to what’s real. Got enough of your pussy after a couple of weeks.” Her gaze dropped, slow and cutting, sweeping across Judy’s body with deliberate insult. “You’re the one clinging. Holding on while she slips through your fingers. It’s sad, really.”

Judy’s jaw tightened, and for a heartbeat she felt the sickening twist of fear - real fear, the kind that sinks its teeth in before you know it’s there. But she didn’t look away. She couldn’t afford to.

“I told you, it’s a dangerous game to play. One where you’re a pawn, not a player. It’s time to shake hands and accept defeat."

“Think what you want,” Judy said, her voice like a taut string, trembling with the tension it held. “Val’s with me. She’s not your pet. Not anymore. And we’re not just some game you can crash and cheat your way into.”

Alex leaned in, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial murmur. “Maybe you should tell her that,” she said, her tone almost gentle. “Because from where I’m standing? You’re doing all the loving. All the waiting. And she’s already gone.”

The floor seemed to shift beneath Judy’s feet, but she stood her ground. Barely.

“Fuck off,” she said hoarsely, and turned to go - but Alex’s hand was suddenly there, firm but not forceful, pressing against her chest to stop her. The touch was light, but it landed like a slap.

“It’s done, Alvy, whether you like it or not,” the blonde said, her voice barely above a whisper now, as if saying it too loud might break something fragile. “She told me that herself.”

Judy's breath caught in her throat, a sick feeling twisting in her stomach. She was drowning in the weight of those words, even though she knew that was all an act. “Stop playing your little spy games,” she whispered, her voice cracking at the edges. “What we have is—”

“Memories,” Alex cut in, soft and clean, like a knife slipping between ribs. “Soon that’s all you’ll have. Don’t fight it. She’s done. Forget her. It wasn’t meant to be. Go back to your little ideal life and forget everything.”

She stepped back, giving Judy just enough space to feel the emptiness between them, then opened the door with theatrical ease. The hallway beyond yawned like an abyss.

“And don’t squeak a word about what happened to anyone,” she added lightly, but her words dropped like bricks. “About the tournament. About V. About anything you’ve seen. Or I’ll find you.”

Judy nodded faintly, not out of agreement, but because it was the only thing she could do without collapsing. “Like someone would believe me,” she murmured, her voice threadbare.

Alex smiled - cold and cruel, victory laced in every line of her face. “Exactly,” she whispered. “You’re finally catching on. Not your league, kid. Stick to soccer. You’re good at it."

She winked, mock-sweet, and was gone, leaving the door half-open behind her. The silence that followed was unbearable.

Judy stood there, breathless, each word still echoing in her bones. Her chest felt hollow, her eyes hot, her fists clenched so tight she felt the bones grind. She knew it was all a performance. Smoke and mirrors. But god, it hurt.

She exhaled, the sound shaky and quiet, and stared at her reflection one last time. Her image looked foreign now - someone carved out of something brittle and burning.

The worst part? Somewhere, beneath all the bravado and denial, a small voice inside her whispered, what if Alex is right?

The dinner had ended, and most of the team had begun to drift toward the exit, their voices trailing behind them like sparks off a dying fire. In the lobby, bathed in the amber haze of pendant lights, a small cluster lingered - laughing, teasing, riding the high of the evening like they didn’t want it to end.

Meredith was the first to break the lull, her voice rising above the others. “So,” she grinned, “who’s up for a club? Night’s still young. Let’s not kill the mood just yet.”

A ripple of excitement passed through the group. Rita laughed, someone whistled, and Panam slung an arm around Meredith’s shoulders with a wide grin. “Fuego’s got that rooftop terrace,” she said. “And neon drinks. I say we light it up.”

Judy stood on the periphery, arms crossed loosely over her chest, trying not to look as out of place as she felt. The buzz around her felt almost intoxicating, and for a brief second, she let herself drift with it, caught in the tide of movement, of laughter, of escape. But that uneasy flicker in her gut remained.

The air felt charged, humming with something more than excitement. There was a tension threaded into every glance, every pause, like a storm building on the edge of the horizon. And Judy wasn’t sure she was ready to stand in the rain.

She could still feel the bite of Alex’s words, their venom lingering long after the bathroom door had shut. Each syllable had burrowed beneath her skin, rooting deep, coiling tight. Maybe Alex was right. Maybe Judy was out of her depth. Drowning in a game too ruthless, too sharp-edged, with vicious rules she wasn’t built to play. Valerie had always been her compass, the fixed star she’d clung to in the dark - but tonight, that light felt dim, distant. A flicker she couldn’t quite reach.

“Hey, Cap,” Rita’s voice cut through her thoughts. Judy blinked, turned, saw the purple-haired defender studying her with a raised brow and a twist of amusement on her lips. “Where’s your girl?”

Judy’s smile came on reflex - tight, brittle, more armor than expression. “Doesn’t matter,” she said, too quickly. The words dropped into the space between them like stones, and she could feel their weight even as they left her mouth. From the corner of her eye, she caught Alex watching, a smug little curl to her lips that made Judy’s stomach turn.

Line.

Rita didn’t flinch. She just tilted her head, eyes narrowing with something between challenge and concern. “So? You comin’ with us or what? Don’t tell me you’re about to go home and sulk.”

Judy exhaled, forced herself to laugh. It scraped out of her like it had been stored somewhere too deep, too dry. “Hell yeah,” she said, loud enough to sound certain. “Could use a drink… or five.”

As she spoke, she felt Maiko’s eyes sweep over her. That predatory gaze sent a cold thread down Judy’s spine. There was recognition in it, an intimacy that felt more like possession. Maiko didn’t just look at her. She read her. Saw through the bluff, the bright laughter and sharp words, saw the vulnerability beneath and savored it, maybe even hoping for an opportunity to sink her teeth back in. And she smiled. Not kindly.

How had she ever trusted that smile?

But then again, Judy had a habit of choosing dangerous people. It was just - Valerie was different. Valerie was danger wrapped in care, violence tempered by tenderness. Judy knew that love was still there. She had to believe that. Even if tonight, it was buried beneath indifference and half-lies. Even if Valerie hadn’t looked at her - really looked at her - since they’d arrived.

As the group began to filter out through the front doors, the air grew colder, thinner. Judy took a step to follow, her pulse a little steadier now that she had a destination. She was hoping that the thrum of music and lights at the club would drown out the ache that had been building all night. That’s what she needed - a distraction.

But then - a hand wrapped around her arm and pulled her to a halt.

She turned on instinct, startled, and the group stalled with her. Conversations quieted, feet paused mid-stride. Valerie stood beside her, gaze steady, grip firm, but not harsh. Her jaw was tight with something like frustration - but her eyes were soft, almost vulnerable.

“What do you want?” Judy’s voice came out colder than she meant it to. Sharper. Laced with defiance that was only half-forced. Her heart thundered in her throat, each beat too loud, like a warning.

Valerie flinched - not visibly, not in a way most would catch - but Judy saw the flicker. Her eyes darted briefly to their teammates - some politely looking away, others not bothering to hide their interest. She hesitated, then met Judy’s eyes again. “I just… I want to talk,” her voice came surprisingly quiet, almost tentative.

A bitter laugh clawed its way from Judy’s throat before she could stop it. “Now you want to talk?” she echoed, the words catching halfway to a sob. “You had all night, Val. You had every goddamn second of it. So, no—I don’t feel like talking.”

It came out harsher than she expected, tinged with a pain that cracked through her composure like a splintering window. And still - somewhere beneath it all - she knew it was an act. The silence, the distance… just a show. But that didn’t make it hurt any less.

The air around them thickened, turning heavy. Hot. She could feel everyone’s attention on them, could practically feel Alex’s stare like a knife pressed to her back. She hated this - being on display, emotions bleeding through the seams. She was supposed to be past this. Stronger than this. Instead, she was breaking open, and everyone could see it.

Then Valerie’s grip loosened. Slid down her arm, fingers curling gently around Judy’s hand. Her touch was careful now, almost hesitant. As if she wasn’t sure she had the right anymore. “Please, Jude,” she murmured, just loud enough for her to hear. “Just a couple minutes. That’s all I’m asking.”

And that’s when Rita stepped in.

“Like hell she’s staying here with you,” she snapped, striding forward, her stance wide and voice fierce, full of the kind of heat that made her teammates fall in line. “Back off. You lost your chance, Bakker.”

Judy’s heart twisted. There was something about the way Rita stood between them - ready to shield her from the fallout - that made her throat close. But her gaze stayed locked on Valerie’s. She had expected some flash of anger, a sharp retort, anything to counter the defender’s words. But her girlfriend simply stood there, waiting. No retort. No fire. Just a quiet kind of ache in those steel-gray eyes, a pleading softness that Judy hadn’t seen the whole night. Valerie didn’t argue. Didn’t challenge Rita.

Was it real? Did something finally break? Was she done pretending?

Judy took a breath so deep it felt like it scraped the bottom of her lungs. Then she turned to the others, her voice low, even. “Go ahead, guys. We’ll join you in a few.”

“No fuckin’ way,” Rita said instantly, stepping closer, ready to snap her arm around Judy’s waist and pull her out of there. “I’m not leavin’ you alone with her.”

Judy reached out, hand finding her friend’s shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. Her expression softened into something quiet, maybe even grateful. “It’s okay, Reet. We need to talk.” Her voice was steadier now. “This… has been a long time coming. Just give us a minute. We’ll join you later.”

Rita hesitated, lips pressed into a thin line, grinding her teeth. She looked at Valerie like she wanted to burn her alive. But Judy held her gaze, didn’t flinch, let her see that this was something she needed to face alone.

Finally, Rita nodded. Barely. She stepped back and jerked her chin toward the door, rallying the rest of the team with a sharp glance. They filed out, reluctant, but obedient. Soon, it was only Judy and Valerie left behind in the low-lit lobby, caught in the hush of things unsaid.

Judy turned away, her body tight with restraint, spine straight and shoulders square. Outside, her teammates spilled onto the sidewalk, laughter loud and forced as they scattered into the night. Cabs began to pull up, one after another, headlights cutting through the darkness. She held her breath and scanned the sidewalk. Waited for one person in particular to disappear.

Alex stepped into the pool of streetlight, hesitated for half a second, then climbed into one of the cabs without a backward glance. The car pulled away, taillights glowing red as it vanished down the street. Only then did Judy allow her shoulders to drop, just a fraction. Her reflection in the glass stared back - tense, tired, pale. And behind her, the woman who’d once made her feel like the whole world had narrowed to a single heartbeat.

She couldn’t turn yet. Couldn’t risk it. Not until her voice wasn’t hanging by a thread. But stillness was a fragile lie, and the tremor inside her had already begun. It started deep within - a pressure in her chest, subtle at first, then crushing. Her vision dimmed at the corners, breath reduced into sharp, ragged gulps. The floor seemed to lurch beneath her, and her knees threatened to fold. Her skin itched with heat. Everything was too loud, too close, too much. The walls pressed in until it felt like the very air was conspiring to smother her.

Before she could fully grasp the terror, Valerie was there, arms wrapping around Judy with a steadiness. One effortless pull and Judy’s feet were no longer on the ground. She collapsed into Val’s embrace like the breath she hadn’t realized she was holding, her face pressed against the warm hollow of her girlfriend’s neck. The scent of her skin hit her like a lifeline, anchoring her to something real in a moment that had threatened to spin out of orbit.

Judy couldn’t speak. She just clung to the blue-haired woman, fingers fisting in the back of Val’s shirt, as the sobs broke loose - silent at first, then rough and messy, as if she was crying out everything she’d held inside all night. Her tears soaked into Valerie’s collar, each drop a surrender. Breath became scarce, and her heart hammered wildly in her chest, spiraling her into a depth of panic attack she couldn’t outrun.

She wasn’t sure when they moved, only that suddenly the world narrowed to the hum of bathroom tiles and cold porcelain. Val set her gently on the edge of a counter, her presence still wrapped around Judy like a shield. She could hear Valerie’s voice, soft but distant, as if muffled by the roaring in her ears.

Valerie’s hand came to rest over her heart, solid and grounding. Her thumb moved in soft, hypnotic circles, steady as a metronome. Then she took Judy’s hand and pressed it against her own chest. Her heartbeat thudded beneath Judy’s palm, slow and deliberate. She exaggerated each breath - in, out - as if trying to teach Judy how to breathe again. She clung to the rhythm, matching it, one inhale at a time, as the panic began to loosen its grip, leaving her breathless and worn but alive.

Bit by bit, the fog lifted, the room stopped spinning. She could feel her senses returning, her vision clearing. Her hands stopped trembling. The tears slowed. Her pulse settled. And Valerie… Valerie never let go. Her arms were wrapped tightly around Judy.

Then she felt it - the damp warmth of a tear against her neck, followed by another. Judy pulled back just enough to see Val’s face, streaked with tears, her expression raw and breaking.

“I did this to you,” Valerie rasped, her voice thick with remorse. “It’s all on me.”

“Val…” Judy whispered, her fingers rising instinctively to her partner’s face, but she couldn’t find the right words.

“I’m the worst fuckin’ thing that ever happened to you.” Valerie’s voice cracked open, bare and unfiltered. “This was a stupid goddamn plan…”

“No,” Judy interrupted gently, cradling her face, guiding her until their eyes met. Hers were still puffy, still wet, but they held no blame. Only conviction. “It worked. Alex bought it. She did exactly what you said she would. She approached me. Alone. She ate it all. We’re almost there.”

Valerie’s eyes darkened with doubt, her gaze drifting to the floor. “We should stop, Jude. Go back to the hotel. Burn the whole plan down. Leave this whole thing behind. You just had another fuckin’ panic attack—because of me. Because I keep putting you through this. It’s not okay. I don’t want to keep hurting you.”

But Judy didn’t flinch. She held Valerie tighter, voice steady now. “No. We need to finish what we started. We go to that club tonight. We let them see what they expect to see—us, broken. I’ll make sure she believes it. Every goddamn second of it.”

Valerie opened her mouth, the protest already forming, but Judy didn’t give her the chance.

“I knew what this meant when we planned it,” she said, her voice like flint. “Yeah, it fuckin’ kills me to act. And it hurts like a motherfucker to see you distant. To watch you walk away and not run after you. And yeah, Alex said some things that twisted me up, that fanned the flames of this attack. But this is about something bigger. Something we both chose. And you’re not hurting me, Val. Not really. Because deep down, I know. I know it’s not real. You’re just protecting me. Just like I’m protecting you.”

For a long beat, Valerie didn’t speak. Her eyes searched Judy’s, desperate and disbelieving, like she was standing on the edge of something she couldn’t name. And then, finally, she nodded. The kind of nod that came from somewhere deeper than words. And in that quiet, Judy didn’t need to say anything else. She just leaned forward, pressed her forehead to Val’s, and breathed with her.

Together.

The club swallowed them whole the moment they stepped inside - its sound a living thing, thrumming through Judy’s chest like a second heartbeat. The basslines were relentless, guttural pulses that seemed to rattle bone and breath alike, while lights sliced through the haze in sharp, strobing slants. It was the kind of place where the world outside ceased to matter - where the edges of reality dissolved into sweat and sound and shadow.

Valerie didn’t hesitate. She veered toward the bar with purpose, her silhouette already half-swallowed by the crowd before Judy had taken a full step. Not a word, not a glance. And for a moment, Judy just stood there, the space between them widening, invisible but vast.

So, this was how it ended. The final act.

She drew in a slow breath and let it settle somewhere deep, beneath the hurt. Then, like pulling on armor with trembling hands, she wrapped composure around herself. She stepped forward, threading through the press of bodies, until she reached the booth where her friends were gathered. Her pulse was still out of rhythm, still erratic from the breakdown at the restaurant, but she managed a crooked smile, sharp and bright like broken glass catching the light. She could feel the effort it took, every muscle tightening beneath the mask.

Rita was the first to catch on. Of course she was. Her eyes narrowed slightly, that familiar, thoughtful frown tugging at the corners of her mouth. “Hey… what happened?” she asked, voice cutting clean through the thump of music - genuine, concerned, already bracing for damage.

Judy gave a half-shrug, forcing out a dry chuckle. “Guess what?” she said, the words coming too easily, too fast. “I’m single now. And I’m definitely gonna need a drink or two to celebrate.”

It was a lie. All of it. The tone. The ease. The woman wearing her voice.

Rita’s face softened. She reached out, her hand warm and grounding on Judy’s arm. “Damn, Jude. Guess Bakker showed her true colors, huh?”

Judy barked out a laugh. “It wasn’t real. And it’s over now. Nothing I can’t handle.” But her throat tightened around the lie. They burned going down, like every sip of truth she couldn’t afford to speak.

Her gaze flicked toward the bar, instinctively drawn - and there she was. Valerie sitting hunched over her drink, staring into it like it held answers she wasn’t ready to face. Her jaw was clenched, her eyes heavy, all fury and fray, and when she tossed back the last of her glass, it was with the finality of someone trying to silence everything they couldn’t outrun.

Judy’s focus was yanked back by movement at the edge of her vision. Alex. Sliding out of the booth like smoke, hips swaying, eyes already tracking Valerie like a panther sizing up prey. She didn’t even try to hide it - that calculated gleam, that look of opportunity.

Sinker.

Judy’s stomach flipped, but she stayed put. She had to. Couldn’t blow the mask now - not after all the effort. Someone shoved a fresh drink into her hand and she raised it on autopilot, clinking glasses with friends whose laughter rang a little too far away.

The liquor was biting at the back of her throat as she swallowed. It didn’t help. Not really. But it was something to hold on to, something to pretend with. She smiled, she laughed, she nodded in all the right places, keeping up the mask they’d so carefully crafted.

Judy sank into the booth, her body melting into the cracked leather as the bass of the music pulsed through her chest. Panam’s shoulder pressed against hers, a comforting weight. The midfielder was in the middle of a story - something wild involving a watermelon, a disgruntled neighbor, and a dramatic escape through a second-story window. Judy managed a laugh, real laugh, riding the wave of Panam’s energy like a life raft.

But that warmth - familiar and unmistakable - rolled over her like heat from an old flame. She didn’t need to look to know Valerie was back. The air shifted when she was close. It always did. Judy tried to keep her focus on Panam’s grin, on the absurd punchline just around the corner. She told herself she wouldn’t look. Not yet.

But the tug was relentless. She couldn’t help it.

Valerie had slid into the booth across from her, and beside her - far too close - sat Alex. Her smile was cocky, practiced, the sort that demanded attention. She was leaning in, her hand resting high on Valerie’s thigh, fingers splayed like a brand. Possessive. Intentional.

Judy’s fingers twitched against the lip of her glass, nails tapping in an erratic rhythm. She reminded herself it was all an act, part of the game they were playing. Valerie was hers - this was just smoke and mirrors. But the fire in her chest didn’t care about intentions. It only knew what it saw - Alex inching closer, her touch lingering like a claim Judy hadn’t authorized. The jealousy flared in her gut, a wild, biting thing that clawed and snarled inside her, she wasn’t sure how much longer she could keep it leashed.

Just then, Rita’s voice rang out, loud and full of mischief. “Alright, who’s down for body shots?” she called, holding a shot of tequila with a flourish. The table erupted in cheers. Judy, tipsy and desperate enough for a distraction, leaned into the noise, letting herself be swept up. She didn’t need much convincing - just the promise of tequila, salt, and lime to burn away the bitterness.

Rita’s eyes gleamed with mischief as she handed Judy a shot. “Your move,” she whispered with a wink, then turned to Panam, dragging her tongue slowly across the midfielder’s neck, leaving a faint shimmer of salt behind. Judy flushed as Panam grinned and held a lime between her teeth, eyes dancing.

Judy hesitated. She felt Valerie’s gaze before she even looked. It burned into her skin. But it wasn’t that look that made her act. It was Alex’s hand tightening on Valerie’s thigh, her smirk cutting sideways like a knife. Something in Judy broke loose. She leaned into Panam with a fluid motion, her tongue brushing salt from warm skin, the tang mingling with Panam’s laughter. She downed the shot and then her mouth found the lime, brushing Panam’s lips as she bit down, citrus exploding across her tongue.

Panam whooped and slung an arm around her, delighted. “Shit, Alvy. Didn’t know you had that in you.” Then she snatched another shot from the table. “My turn—c’mere, Reet! I want that glorious neck.”

Judy laughed, flushed with booze and adrenaline, but her eyes kept drifting back. Valerie hadn’t moved. Her stare was molten, locked on her. But so was Alex. And that smug curl of her lips made Judy’s teeth clench. Without preamble, Alex leaned in, her mouth brushing the shell of Valerie’s ear as she whispered something just out of reach. The intimacy of it made Judy’s skin crawl. She could feel the words without hearing them.

Around them, the music swelled. The air felt dense, close, suffocating. The world shrank to the space between those two. Alex slid into the line queuing for body shots like a queen taking her throne. Her eyes never left Valerie, a look that radiated intent. Slowly, deliberately, she handed Valerie a shot, her fingers grazing Val’s forearm and pulling her close. She bared her neck like an offering, her skin dusted with salt that glimmered in the strobe light. Then, a flash of her teeth - a knowing, pointed grin tossed over her shoulder at her teammates. And then, almost cruelly, her eyes met Judy’s.

Judy didn’t flinch. She stared back, her expression locked down, even as something inside her cracked. Valerie’s lips moved - words Judy couldn’t catch, maybe a protest, maybe not - but she didn’t pull away. And that’s what mattered. She let Alex draw her in, let the space between them vanish, let the implication hang.

The rowdy energy of the booth faltered, thinned into silence. Even the most oblivious among them felt the shift in atmosphere. Rita and Panam stilled, their gazes flickering, questions already forming in the subtle tension of their shoulders. This was no longer a party trick. This was something else.

And then Valerie looked at her. For a single breath, the world held still. There was guilt in those eyes. Regret, raw and unguarded. But it wasn’t enough to stop her. Judy watched, powerless, as Valerie turned away and leaned in. Her mouth found Alex’s neck, swept over the salt with a slow, deliberate drag of her tongue, and then chased it down with the tequila.

Something inside Judy twisted - violent and hot, like jealousy laced with betrayal. She told herself it was part of the plan. Just an act. A mask. A performance to keep Alex blind. But the logic didn’t matter when she watched Valerie’s mouth on someone else. Not when she was supposed to be hers.

She couldn’t stop the image from burning into her mind. Her fingers closed around the edge of the table, knuckles white, nails digging into cheap laminate like it could ground her. But the jealousy surged, fast and punishing, until she could barely breathe. Suddenly the room was too small, the lights too bright, her skin too tight. She couldn’t bear it another second. Her heart pounded, the pain flaring so hot she thought she might burn from the inside out.

“I need…” Her voice cracked. She reached blindly for Panam’s arm, swallowing hard against the lump in her throat. “I need to get out of here.”

And then, before her mind could catch up, chaos erupted. Rita moved like lightning -  her fist slicing through the charged air with a clean, brutal arc. The crack of knuckles against Valerie’s jaw rang out louder than the music. Gasps followed. Then shouts. The booth exploded. A blur of arms and shouts, someone trying to pull Rita back, someone else steadying Valerie, who reeled from the hit, stunned and blinking, just inches from finishing the shot ritual - lime still untouched on Alex’s lips.

Judy didn’t see who grabbed who. Didn’t care. Her legs were already moving, her body trembling as she let Panam pull her toward the exit. Rita was right behind them, cursing under her breath, face taut with fury.

Outside, the air hit her like a slap. The sounds of the club dulled behind her, thudding against the doors like a fading threat. Her skin prickled as the night embraced her, her breath hitching with every exhale. Panam was already hailing a cab, her arm still around Judy’s shoulders like she was holding up a collapsed building. Judy leaned into her without a word, the pain behind her eyes throbbing like a second pulse.

She barely noticed the cab pulling up. She slid into the back seat, numb and exhausted, the remnants of the evening falling around her like ash. Outside, the city smeared into color and light, a blur of motion she couldn’t make sense of. She closed her eyes, pressing her forehead to the glass. She breathed in slow, shaky pulls, as if she could exhale this night into oblivion - make it drift behind her, weightless, forgettable. But it clung.

Valerie was supposed to be hers.

Chapter Text

Chapter XXV | Before You Go
Was there something I could've said to make it all stop hurting?

Morning crept in slowly, tentative streaks of pale light slipping through the curtains, brushing over tangled sheets and casting a dim glow over everything in muted, weary shades. Judy blinked against the dawn, the unfamiliar hotel room slowly coming into focus around her. Her gaze settled on the figure beside her - purple-haired woman, still sprawled and breathing softly. A wave of disorientation hit her, followed by a jolt of memory.

Not her room. Not her bed. And definitely not Valerie beside her.

Judy glanced down, catching sight of her wrinkled red dress, the one she’d worn last night. A dull ache pulsed behind her eyes, the hangover throbbing in time with her heartbeat. With a heavy sigh, she let her memories unfold - fragments of music, Alex’s hand on Valerie’s thigh, and that last painful moment - the one that shattered her resolve and sent her spinning into the night.

She shifted, her limbs reluctant to move, but finally she managed to sit up, casting a glance in the mirror across the room. She looked tired, her expression haunted, her anger worn down to something softer and rawer by the light of day. Mascara smeared like bruises beneath her eyes, hair a wild tangle of curls and knots. A version of herself she barely recognized.

“Where’re you goin’?” a drowsy voice murmured beside her. Judy turned to find Rita, her eyes barely open, her voice rough from sleep.

Judy tried for a weary smile, rubbing her forehead as if she could massage the lingering ache away. “Didn’t pack last night,” she said, slowly rising to her feet.

“We’re not leavin’ ‘til noon,” Rita reminded her, her yawn swallowing half the words. “Plenty of time.”

Judy hesitated, the quiet between them stretching thin. “I want to shower, change, sleep a few hours in my own bed. And…” Her voice faltered. “I need to talk to Val.”

At that, Rita’s eyes opened fully, the haze gone in an instant. “If Daphne’s in there,” she muttered, a growl beneath her breath, “I’ll kill ‘er. I swear to fuck.”

The threat twisted something sharp in Judy’s gut - but she couldn’t help the ghost of a smile tugging at her lips, dry and humorless. “If she’s in there, trust me… you won’t get the chance. I’ll kill them both myself.”

She rose with a final glance at Rita, who watched her like a hawk even half-drunk. Judy slipped out, the door closing behind her with a soft click. The hallway was quiet, still steeped in the hush of early morning. She took a breath, deep and steadying, before heading down the corridor. Up a few floors. To the room she hadn’t wanted to return to last night. She paused at the door. Her fingers hovered over the handle, her breath caught between hesitation and resolve. Then she turned the knob.

The door creaked open, the cool light within brushing over the shadowed corners, revealing Valerie sitting on the floor with her back against the bathroom door. She hadn’t even made it to the bed. Her knees were drawn up, arms looped around them, head bowed and resting on her forearms. Her blue hair was a tangled curtain around her face, and there was something so quiet, so heartbreakingly still about her that it stole the breath from Judy’s lungs.

She looked… small. Worn. Like she’d unraveled at the edges sometime during the night and hadn’t found the strength to stitch herself back together.

Judy lowered herself to her knees beside Valerie, drawn close by a pull she couldn’t deny. Her fingers found Val’s arm, the touch light, trembling. “Val…” she whispered, her voice barely a breath, but it was enough.

Valerie stirred at the sound of her name, her head lifting as she blinked against the early morning light. Her gray eyes - shadowed and rimmed red, glazed with a weariness that only regret could bring - met Judy’s, and in that moment, something in her cracked, splintering beneath the rawness of their shared sorrow.

A bruise bloomed along Val’s jaw, dark and harsh against her skin. Judy reached for it instinctively, her fingers brushing the mark with a tenderness that felt reverent, sacred somehow. Valerie didn’t flinch. She leaned into the touch, her eyes falling shut for a breath, as if Judy’s hand was the only thing anchoring her to the present, something she’d been desperate for.

Valerie’s hand rose slowly, catching Judy’s fingers and holding them there against her cheek, her grip light yet steady. The touch was fragile, almost tentative, as if they both feared what might spill out between them if either of them let go. Judy felt the faint tremor in Valerie’s hand, and within it, the wordless apology, the silent plea woven into every unspoken word between them.

They stayed like that for a moment, suspended in the early hush of dawn, the world beyond the hotel room forgotten, the light casting gentle shadows that softened the sharp edges of last night’s bitterness. Judy’s thumb brushed across Val’s cheekbone, lingering, her own breath catching as she felt the faint shudder that escaped her girlfriend’s lips, parted as though she might speak but couldn’t find the words.

At last, Judy broke the silence. Her voice came out rough, low - hoarse from disuse. “You look like hell.”

A faint sound escaped Valerie - half a breath, half a chuckle, but it held no real humor. Her fingers tightened gently around Judy’s, as though she feared the contact might slip away. “Feels about right,” she murmured, the words barely louder than the sound of breathing.

Judy’s gaze lingered on her - on the bruises blooming across Valerie’s jaw, the hollow look in her eyes, the barely-healed wound of last night. And still, in spite of the ache that twisted low in her own chest, her expression softened. Her fingers ghosted over the mottled skin with care. “Why did we let it get this far?” she asked, the words slipping out before she could stop them, trembling on the edge of something raw and too real.

Valerie’s eyes dropped, lashes casting thin shadows on her cheeks as her thumb brushed idle circles across the back of Judy’s hand. “Guess we both forgot what we were trying to prove,” she said eventually, the words tasting of regret. “I shouldn’t have… with Alex. I tried to pull back, I did. By the time I realized what it looked like and what it was doing to you—” She stopped, her voice catching in her throat, and when she looked up, her eyes glimmered with a sorrow that was quietly unraveling her from the inside out. “It was already too late. Out of control.”

Judy reached up, her fingers guiding Valerie’s chin until their eyes met, really met - no dodging, no armor. “That was so fuckin’ stupid,” she whispered, but her voice was steadier now. She wasn’t lashing out, just cutting to the truth. “And it hurt. Like hell. Both of us.”

Valerie nodded slowly, lips pulling into a crooked, tired smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Yeah,” she breathed. “Let’s not do that again. Ever.”

“Deal.”

For a moment, they just looked at each other. And something shifted - an unseen thread pulled taut, then loosened, unwinding the distance between them. The weight of what had happened didn’t disappear, but it softened, stretched into something that no longer cut quite so deep.

Valerie pressed her lips to the back of Judy’s hand. When she looked up, there was something unguarded in her eyes, something Judy had missed more than she’d let herself admit.

No words. None needed. They sat there like that for a while - bathed in silence, wrapped in the stillness that follows a storm. Their hands remained connected, there was a quiet promise in that gesture - a recognition that the hurt was behind them, that they’d made a mistake, and they’d paid for it in full.

Eventually, Judy’s hand drifted down from Valerie’s face, trailing lightly along the curve of her shoulder, then lower still, fingers brushing her knee in a gentle pat - an unspoken invitation to move forward.

“Come on,” she said, her voice hushed, but certain. “We both need a shower.”

Val gave a small, almost imperceptible nod. When Judy helped her up, their fingers laced together easily, as though they’d never been apart. They moved together toward the bathroom, steps unhurried, in sync without needing to be. The door creaked open to a room bathed in cool blue shadows, the faint orange blush of morning spilling in through the high window. Judy turned the faucet, the water rushing to life, its rhythm steady, soothing, calming.

Neither of them spoke as they began to undress. It wasn’t just about the clothes - they were shedding the night, the shame, the lingering ache of nearly breaking something they’d spent so long trying to built. Judy’s fingers found the buttons on Valerie’s shirt, her touch gentle as each one slipped free, the fabric parting like old skin sloughing off. She didn’t look away as the shirt fell from Val’s shoulders, pooling at her feet. Valerie returned the gesture, unzipping Judy’s dress and sliding it down her arms, her fingertips tracing the lines left behind by the night - smudged mascara beneath her eyes, a smear of something darker on her collarbone, tension knotted into her shoulders.

For a heartbeat, they stood bare in the faint morning light, naked in every sense of the word.

Judy reached for Valerie’s hand again and guided her into the shower. The water met their skin like a balm, warm and steady, steam rising around them like a veil. The heat curled around Judy’s spine, sank deep into her muscles, loosening everything that had clenched shut over the past day. Her hand found Val’s face, fingers brushing lightly across her cheek, pausing at the bruise marring the sharp line of her jaw. It was a stark reminder of what had gone wrong last night.

She leaned into the warmth, her eyes fluttering closed. Her breath left her in a long, quiet exhale, the first one that didn’t hurt. They were still here, still tethered to each other, no matter how violently the world spun outside.

Valerie stepped in closer, the front of her body pressing gently against Judy’s, her skin slick and warm. Judy let her hands slide down her partner’s shoulders, slow and deliberate, kneading the tension from her muscles. Val sighed, her head tilting forward as she leaned into the touch, her body yielding with trust.

Judy reached for the soap, working it between her hands until it formed a creamy lather. She began to wash Valerie with quiet care, her strokes slow, mapping familiar territory with fresh devotion. She lingered on the curve of Val’s waist, the slope of her back, as if she could erase the past hours with the simple touch of her palms.

Valerie mirrored her, fingers slipping through Judy’s damp hair, tracing the delicate edge of her collarbone, rediscovering her skin as though it had been lost somewhere along the way and was only now being found again. Their hands moved in a slow choreography, not rushed or needy, but thorough, like they were re-learning one another in this small, sacred ritual.

When their eyes met, the tension cracked. Judy leaned forward and let her forehead rest against Val’s shoulder, her lips brushing along the warm skin there, light and fluttering. The words came out unbidden - honest and aching.

“I love you,” she whispered against Valerie’s skin, her voice barely more than a breath. “I don’t wanna feel like that anymore. I love you so fuckin’ much… I’m gonna miss you.”

The confession sliced something raw open in her. Not because it wasn’t true – but because it was too true. That was the ache of it. That it lived too deep, had rooted itself in her chest. And she knew it was going to be there forever.

Silence settled between them, not heavy but poignant, like a held breath. Then Valerie’s voice, low and roughened with emotion, broke through the quiet. “I’m sorry, y’know.”

Judy nodded slowly, the apology sinking into her bones. “Me too, Val. Let’s just… let it go, yeah? We fucked up. Night was rough. Could’ve handled it better.”

“Or not done it at all,” Val added, a rueful smile tugging at her lips, too small to be smug, too soft to be a joke.

Judy met her gaze again, steady now, with a warmth that flickered just beneath the surface. “Yeah. But we’re good now, right?”

Val nodded, a little slower, a little more certain. “We’re good. Alex ate it.”

Judy raised a brow, a hint of a smile finding its way through. “Guess that’s one way to measure success.”

There was something clouded in Valerie’s eyes for a moment - something dark and uncertain - but then it passed, giving way to something lighter. Not quite peace, not yet. But hope, maybe. “Time’ll tell,” she said quietly.

Judy lifted her hand, brushing a wet strand of hair from Valerie’s face, tucking it gently behind her ear. She leaned in, slow, unsure, but Val met her halfway, without hesitation. Their lips touched in a gentle kiss that was more of a whisper shared between them. It was soft at first - tentative, like testing old waters. Then deeper, fuller, as if their mouths remembered the rhythm better than their minds did. Each kiss came with a stolen glance, a flicker of affection passed in silence, a promise rekindled with every meeting of lips.

The world around them dissolved - the hiss of water, the echo of distant traffic, the grime of the city. It all fell away. In that moment, it was just the heat of their skin, the thrum of their shared breath, the sacred stillness they’d found within the storm.

When they drew apart, Judy pressed her forehead back to Valerie’s shoulder, lips ghosting over the skin there with the kind of reverence usually reserved for memory or prayer. The words surfaced again, inevitable.

“I love you,” she whispered, letting them bleed out of her, raw and trembling.

Valerie’s arms came around her then, pulling her in, holding her like something fragile. Her hands splayed across Judy’s back, grounding her, keeping her tethered in that warm circle of safety only Val could create. No answers, no reassurances - just presence. Just being.

After a long, quiet moment, the blue-haired woman drew back, her eyes locking with Judy’s, fierce and tender all at once. She lifted one hand, her thumb brushing away a drop of water clinging to Judy’s cheek, the gesture more intimate than a thousand words.

“Everything’s gonna be alright,” she said, low and sure, as if saying it made it so.

Then she kissed her again - not with fire, but with faith. A promise sealed in touch, in breath, in the unshakable knowing of two people who had come through the dark and still found each other.

For a moment - just that brief, perfect moment - they existed outside of time. The rest of the world could wait. They had this. Each other. The weight of everything that had come before and was about to come fell away, leaving only the solid, unwavering reality of them in this moment, held together by a love that felt like the only truth they needed.

Judy stood by the small hotel wardrobe, methodically folding clothes and placing them into her bag with an efficiency that felt detached. Each item she packed seemed heavier than the last, as though the weight of leaving had seeped into the fabric. She paused before pulling the zipper closed, her hand hovering over it, the act feeling far too final. Too much like closing a door that wouldn’t open again. But after a breath she didn’t realize she was holding, she drew it shut. A sigh followed, barely audible, but it carried the shape of surrender.

This was it.

Everything was packed. Her clothes for the flight were laid out in neat, numb order on the bed. Her phone, its screen dimmed and pulsing faintly with life, charged on the nightstand. In three hours, she’d be downstairs with half the team, boarding the plane to New York. And Valerie would be heading the other way couple hours later. Miami first, then to Night City. Judy knew that last leg of the journey wouldn’t happen. Valerie wasn’t going home. She was going to FIA headquarters.

That thought alone hit harder than she expected. A slow twist of grief that curled around her ribs and pulled tight. She forced herself to breathe through it. Her hands needed a new task - she turned to smooth out the bedspread, realigned the already-folded clothes as if perfection could somehow anchor her.

A sharp ping cut through the hush of the room. She turned, reached for the phone. Rita’s name flashed at the top of the screen.

you pcked yet?
come to my room when you redy.

Practical. Steady. Dependable, like always. Rita never wavered. In another moment, on another day, that steadiness might’ve been a comfort. But now, standing in the gravity of what she was about to lose, Rita’s words felt like a rope pulling her out of the only place she still felt whole. Because now, with the weight of goodbye pressing down on her, the thought of leaving this room - leaving Valerie - felt unbearable.

Her thumb lingered above the screen. A sigh slipped from her lips, barely a breath, a sound laced more with sadness than amusement. Earlier, she’d already stitched together a net of half-truths. Told Rita that Daphne wasn’t in the room when she came, which was true. Said she’d showered, packed most of her things, was just catching what little sleep she could. That Val was out cold, sleeping off the storm of the night - and that she hadn’t worked up the nerve to wake her yet.

All technically true. And still, all lies.

Because the truth? The truth was messy. It was curled in Valerie’s scent lingering on the pillow. It was in the ache that tightened her chest every time she looked at her. It was in the way her lips still felt bruised from kisses that meant more than either of them could say.

I’m napping. I’ll see you downstairs.
Don’t worry.

She sent it, knowing full well how hollow it rang. Then set the phone aside like it might burn her if she held it any longer. That message was a shield - a makeshift barrier to buy herself a few more moments here, in this fading, fragile bubble where Valerie still existed in her arms.

Judy exhaled slowly, trying to breathe past the thrum of heartache. Her gaze drifted – inevitably - back to the bed.

Valerie lay there like she belonged, sprawled in utter comfort across the unmade sheets. The tank top she’d pulled on clung loosely to her frame, boxers riding up just slightly on one hip, the dark lines of her tattoos softened by sleep and lazy movement. Her damp hair was still wild from the shower, streaks of blue curling against her cheek. She held the last of a sandwich in one hand, chewing lazily. When she finished, she placed the empty plate on the nightstand with a graceful ease, as if even that small gesture was a kind of poetry.

And then she looked up. And smirked. Judy couldn’t help, but smile.

Val patted the mattress beside her. “Come snuggle with me,” she teased, her voice playful, her eyes impossibly soft. Like she knew exactly what was tearing Judy apart and wanted nothing more than to hold the pieces together.

Judy didn’t hesitate, she crossed the room, a few strides and a thousand miles all at once. The mattress dipped as she settled in beside the blue-haired woman, who immediately opened her arms in welcome. That tenderness, that instinctive way Valerie always made space for her - it undid Judy more than any kiss. She slid into the embrace, fit herself into the crook of Valerie’s neck. It was instinctive, as natural as breathing, this place where she belonged, where the world’s noise faded, and safety wrapped around her like a blanket.

Strong arms came around her, held her like something precious and breakable. Their breathing had fallen into the same quiet rhythm, two heartbeats synced. Judy lay curled into Valerie’s side, her hand resting just under the edge of her tank top, fingers moving in soft, absent-minded patterns across warm skin. Each small stroke was a word she couldn’t bring herself to say, a thought too fragile to name aloud.

Valerie dipped her chin and brushed it against Judy’s temple - a soft, almost accidental gesture, but it cracked something inside her. The sting behind her eyes came quick, sharp. Judy closed them. She pressed in tighter, clung to the warmth at her side, and let herself pretend - just for a little while - that this wasn’t the end. That the ache in her chest was just tiredness, not goodbye.

“Can we just stay here?” she murmured, her voice muffled against Valerie’s neck, the syllables barely more than breath, as if spoken too loudly they might break the illusion. “A couple more hours... or days, or months... maybe years.”

Valerie’s laugh was a soft ripple against her skin. “How about forever?” she said, light in tone but with that gravity Judy knew too well - the kind that meant Val wasn’t just joking. Not really.

Judy tilted her head to look at her, and the sight of Valerie’s eyes - steady, storm-colored, full of affection - made her heart twist. How could someone hold so much care in a single look? How could someone make her feel more seen with silence than others did with a thousand words?

“Yeah,” she breathed. “Sounds perfect.”

They lay there in silence, time stretching and bending, made irrelevant by the hush between heartbeats. Judy’s palm traced higher beneath the hem of Valerie’s shirt, grazing the smooth line of her waist. She felt the way Val exhaled at the touch - not quite a sigh, not quite a moan, something softer. A sound that spoke of trust and comfort. Judy smiled against her shoulder, letting her digits drift higher.

“You should take this off,” Judy whispered, tugging gently at the fabric. There was a teasing edge to her voice, but beneath it, the need was real. “I need to feel you.”

Valerie glanced down, one brow arched in playful challenge, though her eyes were warm, a soft smirk curling at the corner of her lips. “Oh yeah?”

Judy tugged again, more firmly this time, a flicker of insistence in her touch. Her throat tightened. “If this is goodbye, then I—”

But she couldn’t finish that sentence. Valerie moved fast and, in a blink, she rolled over Judy and straddled her, pinning her wrists gently to the mattress. Judy’s breath caught, her chest lifting with a soft gasp, but she didn’t fight it. There was no fear in the sudden motion. No real resistance. Only trust.

“It isn’t a goodbye,” Valerie said, voice low but certain, a quiet promise etched into each syllable. She felt the slight tremor in Valerie’s fingers. The vulnerability she tried to hide. Her hands weren’t forceful, her grip loose enough that Judy could have slipped free at any moment - but she didn’t. Instead, she smiled, a tired, aching smile, as she looked up at her girlfriend.

“It could be,” she said softly. Not accusing. Not panicked. Just honest. “We don’t know.”

She shifted her arm, slipping one hand free and reaching up to cup Valerie’s face. Her fingers were gentle, reverent, brushing along the sharp line of her jaw, the soft angle of her cheek. As if she was memorizing her by touch. As if this would have to last.

“I trust you, Val,” she whispered. Her voice cracked at the edges, full of something so raw it made her chest hurt. “I know you’ll try. I know you’ll try to fight your way back to me. But there are things even you can’t control. And if these last hours—if this is all we have… I want every second of it. If this is goodbye, I want you close.”

Valerie’s eyes fluttered shut for a moment. When she looked back down, they were glassy, unguarded - a storm held back only by sheer will.

“Jude…”

Her voice caught, a single syllable heavy with longing and fear and a thousand unsaid things. She leaned down, slow, savoring the pull of gravity between them, and rested her forehead against Judy’s.

“Please, Val,” Judy whispered. Her voice was small, breaking open with a vulnerability. It wasn’t just a request - it was a confession, a surrender. “Just… please.”

Valerie didn’t answer. Not with words. Instead, she leaned in, and the air between them vanished. Her lips found Judy’s with a softness that startled her, stole the breath right from her lungs. The kiss was a murmur - slow and seeking, lips moving in a rhythm that felt ancient, like they’d done this a thousand times before and yet it still felt new. It wasn’t hurried. It didn’t need to be. It existed in its own time.

She could taste it - the unspoken, unresolved ache on Valerie’s lips. She could taste it, even in the midst of it all. Fear and longing. Love and doubt. All of it bleeding into each kiss. And so, Judy held her tighter, not just her body, but the whole storm of her. The warmth of her skin. The way their breaths knotted together like thread pulled taut.

Judy lifted her hands, curling them against the sides of Valerie’s face, her fingers slipping into still-damp hair that clung to her neck. When Valerie’s teeth grazed her lower lip, when their noses bumped awkwardly mid-shift, Judy laughed - quiet, breathless, like a spark in the dark. It felt like breathing for the first time in hours.

When they finally parted - only because their lungs demanded air - their foreheads rested together. Judy opened her eyes and found Valerie already looking. In that look, Judy saw everything - the fierce determination, the raw vulnerability, the unspoken promise that this moment wasn’t the end.

Then Valerie pulled back. Sat up. And in the absence of her closeness, a cold longing bloomed across Judy’s chest. Valerie’s hands moved to the hem of her tank top, and in one smooth motion, she peeled it off. The soft fabric landed somewhere on the edge of the mattress, forgotten.

Judy stared.

She’d seen her like this more times than she could count, but it still hit her like the first time - the raw, arresting beauty of her. Valerie’s pale skin marked with ink that told stories without words. Lines, curves, symbols Judy had traced a thousand times and still hadn’t memorized enough. Her eyes followed the slope of her collarbones, the soft swell of her breasts, the scars across her ribs, stomach and chest - each one a wound survived, a chapter etched into skin.

Her breath caught. Each detail, each imperfection, made her beautiful in a way that stole Judy’s words.

Slowly, reverently, she reached out. Her fingertips brushed Val’s side, a whisper of touch, as though her body might shatter under anything heavier. Her hands roamed upward, over the curves of Valerie’s stomach, the firm lines of muscle and soft skin, then further still, across her arms. Her palms paused at each tattoo, tracing the shapes with something close to awe. Then her hands drifted lower, brushing across the scars scattered along her ribs. Judy lingered there. Her fingers mapped the battered skin as if she could rewrite the story with touch, replace pain with something gentler. She memorized the feel of her - broken and beautiful all at once.

Valerie stayed still beneath her touch, breathing slow and shallow, her eyes closed. Judy saw the way her chest rose and fell, how her lashes fluttered when she found a tender spot. And then a sound - so soft, it barely made it to Judy’s ears - a whimper, helpless and real.

God, she loved her.

Judy’s hands came to rest at Valerie’s hips, her thumbs brushing lightly along the sharp angle of bone. Valerie’s eyes opened then, and the look she gave her made Judy forget every fear, every hurt, every shadow.

Val reached for her hands. Brought them to her mouth, pressing soft kisses to each knuckle with a tenderness that made Judy’s chest tighten. Then she guided Judy’s wrists down to the mattress, pinning them gently above her head. The smirk she gave wasn’t just teasing - it was drenched in that low-burning, soul-deep intensity that always seemed to simmer behind her eyes.

Then Valerie kissed her again. Deeper this time. Hungrier. Her lips pressed harder, her body anchoring Judy into the mattress. Her hands gripped her wrists tighter - not enough to bruise, but just enough to make her feel claimed. Owned. Safe. Judy melted beneath her. All of her. Every last guard she’d ever kept up disintegrated in the fire of that kiss. Time ceased to matter, the outside world fading into nothingness. All that remained was them, entwined in a moment they both knew would never last long enough, but that neither would ever forget.

She stopped thinking. Stopped remembering. There was only Valerie - her weight, her mouth, her warmth - and Judy, unraveling thread by thread in her arms.

The kiss grew heavier. Valerie’s mouth dragged over her jaw, then down. She kissed the spot just below her ear, her breath hot and slow, then nipped the skin, drawing a quiet gasp from Judy’s throat. Her body reacted before her mind caught up - hips shifting, chest rising, silently begging for more.

Valerie’s mouth traveled lower, to the base of her throat, the soft hollow there. Then to her collarbone. Judy felt stripped bare in the deepest way - not just naked, but seen. Loved. Consumed. As though Valerie’s lips were writing a story only the two of them would ever read.

“Valerie…” the name escaped her in a whisper, her voice shaking under the weight of emotion and need that coiled tight within her.

And the blue-haired woman hummed in response, the sound low and warm against her skin, the vibration sparking a new wave of sensation that made her shudder.

Val moved back up, mouth finding hers once more. The kiss was endless, looping them in, her hands finally letting go of Judy’s wrists to explore again - palms dragging along her waist, fingers spreading wide over her ribs. And then Val sat up, bringing Judy with her, not breaking the kiss even for a second. Their mouths stayed locked, fused, the world around them dissolving, and Judy followed, helpless and willing, into the fire of her.

Valerie’s fingers found the hem of Judy’s shirt and she tugged, deliberate and unhurried, her knuckles brushing against warm skin. Judy let out a breathless laugh, the sound soft and raw, barely more than a tremor in her chest. Valerie’s grin met hers, wide and warm and just a little wicked. Judy lifted her arms and let the fabric slip over her head. The shirt was tossed aside without care.

Valerie’s eyes were already back on her.

She sat there, bare, and the light caught the tattoos that curved across her skin - inked lines and symbols painted in memory and rebellion. Valerie didn’t move at first. Neither of them did. The air between them thickened, humming with unspoken things, until even the silence felt like it might break if either of them breathed too hard.

Judy could feel her heart hammering beneath her ribs, a rhythm in tune with the weight of Valerie’s gaze. And then Val’s hands lifted, her fingertips brushing lightly over Judy’s sternum. She traced the tattoos there like someone reading a sacred text, like each line held a story she wanted to understand. Her fingers lingered at the edges of ink, over the intricate details, and the spaces in between - the places where Judy was soft, unguarded.

The touch made her ache.

Judy leaned into it, helpless to do anything else, her body drawn forward by the quiet pull of being seen. And not just looked at - seen. Valerie’s hands moved upward, coming to rest at her shoulders, thumbs brushing along the curve of bone. Then she tilted Judy’s chin with a featherlight touch, guiding her eyes upward to meet her own.

Judy felt herself unravel in that gaze.

“God,” Valerie whispered, voice barely more than breath, “you’re beautiful.”

The words hit Judy like a punch and a balm all at once - too much and everything she needed. Her breath caught, her chest rising sharply with the force of it, but before she could form a response, Valerie was kissing her again.

And this time, it wasn’t careful. It was hungry. Fierce. Valerie kissed like she couldn’t hold it in anymore, like every part of her wanted to spill out into Judy’s mouth, her hands, her skin. Judy responded in kind, her fingers curling around Valerie’s waist, pulling her closer, deeper, as though proximity alone might stretch the moment into eternity. She wanted to memorize it all - the taste of her, the sound of her breath, the press of her body.

Valerie began to guide her down, lowering Judy to the mattress with tenderness. The rustle of sheets beneath her felt impossibly loud, each shift and sigh amplifying her awareness. Valerie followed her down, hovering above, a steady warmth that Judy welcomed. Her lips returned, soft and unhurried, tracing the shape of Judy’s mouth before moving lower. The curve of her collarbone was next, kissed and nipped, the brief sting soothed a moment later by the slow drag of Valerie’s tongue. Judy gasped, breath catching as her body arched involuntarily.

She was being worshipped. Every movement was an act of devotion - featherlight kisses down the hollow of her sternum, lips pressing reverently against her breasts. Judy shivered under the attention, the heat in her belly blooming outward like fire in slow motion.

“I love you,” Valerie said quietly, almost as though confessing a secret to her skin.

Judy blinked against the burn behind her eyes. Her fingers trembled slightly where they rested on Valerie’s back, and her chest felt too full, stretched too tight around the ache of being held like this.

Valerie’s mouth moved lower, tongue flicking against her nipple in a slow, teasing rhythm that made Judy gasp again. She traced patterns there, impossibly gentle, before kissing her way along the side of her ribcage, biting just softly enough to draw another quiet moan from Judy’s lips. And every time she took, she gave back - soothing, tender, patient.

“I need you,” Judy whispered, barely able to breathe around the words. Her voice cracked with it, rough-edged and raw. “Now.”

Valerie only made a low, quiet sound against Judy’s skin, something like assent, something like understanding. She shifted, rising onto her knees and sliding between Judy’s thighs with slow confidence. Her hands moved to the waistband of Judy’s underwear, and when their eyes met, the question there didn’t need to be spoken. Her hips lifted, offering herself wordlessly, and Valerie eased the fabric down. She moved slowly, dragging the last barrier away with a care that felt ceremonial. Inch by inch, Judy was revealed, and with each passing second, her breath came quicker, anticipation curling tight inside her.

And then Valerie stilled. She sat back slightly, her gaze sweeping over Judy’s body with an intensity that made her feel bare in every possible way. It wasn’t lustful, wasn’t even hungry - it was something deeper, something sacred. She was studying her. Worshiping. Committing every scar, every tattoo, every curve to memory. Judy could feel herself trembling beneath that look.

Val’s hands slid to her thighs, brushing over the skin in circles. The touch was maddening, light as air, and when she began to part her legs, it was with such infuriating slowness that Judy almost sobbed with need.

“Val…” she breathed, her voice rough, desperate. “Please.”

That smirk bloomed across Valerie’s lips - the one that never failed to send heat rushing through her. “Patience, baby,” she murmured, her voice a low, teasing rasp that sent another shiver down Judy’s spine. “I want to remember every inch of you.”

And the way she said it made Judy want to be remembered - completely, endlessly, again and again.

Valerie didn’t offer release, didn’t ease the ache. Instead, she lowered herself slowly, her warm breath ghosting over Judy’s skin, hovering just enough to tease without satisfying. Judy clenched the sheets in both fists, her knuckles pale, her body wound so tightly with anticipation she thought she might splinter apart from the tension alone.

Then, without warning, Valerie’s teeth sank into the delicate flesh of her inner thigh.

Judy cried out, her body jolting from the bed as if lightning had struck beneath her skin. The sharp bite sent a white-hot jolt through her nerves, a brand seared between pleasure and pain. And then, just as her breath caught in her throat, Valerie soothed the sting with her tongue - gentle now, slow, making the ache bloom into something almost unbearable. She kissed over the mark she’d left, her lips moving with reverence and claim, her mouth working methodically, sucking lightly until Judy trembled beneath her.

When Valerie finally leaned back, she studied the growing red mark with quiet satisfaction. Her thumb traced over it lazily, a soft circle around the edges, and her lips curved into something that wasn’t quite a smirk anymore. Her head tilted up, her eyes catching Judy’s. Something unspoken passed between them. Her own lips curled up in answer, a small, breathless smile that belonged only to this moment. To them.

Then, with one last kiss to her thigh - a silent vow pressed into skin - Valerie dipped lower.

Judy’s breath hitched again, her entire body going still with anticipation as Val's mouth found the place where Judy ached for her the most. But there was no rush, no urgency - only slow, torturous worship. Valerie’s tongue moved like a whisper, brushing with featherlight strokes, tracing her slit as though she was painting something fragile and sacred. She lapped at the wetness with maddening delicacy, avoiding the swollen bundle of nerves that throbbed with need, her every movement intentional, exquisite in its restraint.

It was too much and not enough all at once.

Judy moaned, her thighs twitching, body begging for more. Each flick of Valerie’s tongue sent shocks through her, a slow wave rising in intensity, never cresting. She arched her hips, searching for friction, for contact, for anything that would tip her over - but Valerie only pressed her back down, her hands sliding to Judy’s hips with quiet command.

She groaned, the sound caught somewhere between surrender and desperation. Her fingers tangled into the blue strands, trying to guide her partner closer, deeper, aching for her to abandon the softness and give her what she so badly needed. But Val wouldn’t budge. Her hold remained steady, her mouth continuing its infuriating rhythm. Judy whimpered, her head tipping back into the pillow, her body trembling under the calculated torment.

“Val…” Judy’s voice cracked, the syllable torn from her in a breathless plea. “Please… I need—”

“Let me enjoy this a little longer,” Valerie murmured, her voice a low rasp against her skin, thick with heat and promise.

Then her mouth returned - this time even slower, even more purposeful. Her tongue moved in languid circles, drawing slick patterns, her lips brushing and pulling away, again and again. The patience of it, the deliberate torture, left Judy raw and shivering, every nerve stretched thin. Each flick sent sparks dancing down her spine, her hips writhing beneath the weight of sensation. She pulled harder at Val’s hair, a silent plea for mercy, but her girlfriend’s control remained absolute. Every touch was designed to drive Judy closer to madness.

The room faded - the mattress, the walls, the faint hum of air conditioning. All that existed was the molten pull inside her, the steady burn that Valerie stoked with every agonizing motion. It wasn’t just pleasure - it was surrender, a slow-burning fire that consumed her entirely, leaving her trembling beneath the woman who knew how to hold her together even as she took her apart.

Suddenly, Valerie’s rhythm changed, the soft flicks of her tongue turning firmer, more focused, more insistent. She pressed deeper with a purpose that left no room for Judy to hide from the building storm. And when she finally closed her lips around Judy’s clit, Judy's entire world shattered. The burn inside her, once a smoldering ember, now roared like an inferno, her body caught in its relentless grip.

Her lungs collapsed. Her back arched. The world went silent except for the rush in her ears and the desperate, gasping litany of Valerie’s name falling from her lips like a prayer.

The climax built fast and violent, spiraling through her in waves that left her breathless. She tried to hold on - but there was nothing to cling to. Just Valerie. Her mouth, her strength, her unwavering presence. Judy came undone with a cry that cracked through the stillness, her body surging up from the mattress as the orgasm tore through her like a storm. Stars danced at the edges of her periphery as her body surrendered, her mind going blissfully blank under the onslaught.

And then it broke.

She collapsed back, shuddering, boneless, her heart thundering, her fingers still knotted in Valerie’s hair. She couldn’t speak - could barely breathe - only feel, only exist in the aftershock of what Valerie had done to her.

Her name was still on Judy’s lips, whispered now.

When she finally drifted back to herself, it felt as though the world had quieted in reverence. The air hung still around them, touched with a kind of sacred hush, as if time had decided to slow and let her stay suspended in that trembling afterglow. Her body was still humming, each nerve alight, her skin hypersensitive where the echoes of pleasure still lingered. Valerie hadn’t moved - she was still nestled between Judy’s thighs, her mouth gentle now. Her lips traced soft shapes, her tongue moving languidly, unhurried, tasting Judy like she was a secret treasure meant only for her.

Judy’s hand found Valerie’s hair, no longer tugging, no longer desperate - just a quiet touch, fingers threading through soft, sweat-damp strands. There was no urgency in her now, just the need to keep Valerie close. Valerie lifted her head slowly, her chin glistening, her gray eyes catching the low light, and when they met Judy’s gaze, the mischief there was softened by tenderness. That smile - genuine and small - carried both pride and an aching kind of love, and it pierced right through Judy’s chest.

Val kissed the inside of her thigh, one final lingering press of lips, before moving, crawling up beside her. She slid an arm around Judy and pulled her in, wrapping her against the warmth of her body. Her fingers resumed their quiet patterns - across Judy’s shoulder, down her ribs - gentle strokes meant to soothe.

“You okay, Jude?”

Judy nodded, slow, resting her cheek against the crook of Valerie’s neck. Her arms circled loosely around her waist. “Mhm,” she murmured, the words catching somewhere in her chest, too elusive to form just yet.

Val’s laugh was quiet, low in her throat, vibrating gently through Judy’s cheek. Her lips brushed against Judy’s temple in a kiss so tender it made her smile, even as something heavier began to stir deep in her gut. She wanted to stay in this moment forever, wrapped in warmth and silence, but the ache slipped in anyway.

What if this is the last time?

The thought struck her like a blade, unbidden and cruel. Her breath caught, a stuttering inhale, and before she could fight it, a tear spilled from the corner of her eye. She turned her face further into Valerie’s skin, hoping to hide it, but her girlfriend noticed anyway.

Valerie shifted, drawing back just enough to see her, her thumb brushing away the tear that clung to her cheek, her touch achingly tender. “Don’t cry, Jude,” she murmured.

But her own eyes were bright too, threatening to spill over. The sight of it broke something in Judy. She swallowed, tried to breathe past the knot in her throat.

“I don’t know how I’m supposed to survive this, Val,” she said, her voice barely more than a breath, ragged with fear.

Valerie reached for her hands, gripping them tightly even as hers shook. “Look at me,” she whispered, fierce and steady all at once. “You’re the strongest person I’ve ever met, Jude. And this—what we have—it’s not over. This is not the end. We’ll have it again.”

Judy’s lip trembled, but she didn’t look away.

“No Johnny. No FIA. No one pulling strings behind our backs. No one trying to tear us apart. Just us. That’s all I want,” Val continued, her voice thick now, breaking at the edges. “I’ll always come back to you. No matter how long it takes. No matter what they do. I’ll find my way home. You hear me? Always. I’m not giving up on us. Not now. Not ever.”

A sob caught in Judy’s throat - half grief, half hope. She nodded, her arms curling tighter around Valerie like she could hold her there forever, like letting go might break them both.

They stayed like that, foreheads pressed together, breaths mingling in the hush. Clinging to each other in the quiet after, as if they could will the world away with touch alone. And in that stillness, in that fragile space between words, there was something more enduring than any promise - a love that would not bend, not break, no matter the fire waiting outside their door.

Hours had slipped past in a haze of trembling bodies and whispered names, each climax a thread weaving them tighter together, until finally, they found themselves standing by the door. The air between them was thick, weighted by all the things left unsaid, the silence stretched taut like a wire ready to snap. The room, once alive with the frantic cadence of their passion, had fallen into a stillness so profound it seemed to hum. Outside, the city murmured beyond the cracked windows, a distant world that felt almost unreal now.

Judy’s hand was still caught in Valerie’s, their fingers connected with a desperate sort of urgency neither dared to voice. She could feel Valerie’s pulse against her own, that quick, nervous rhythm mirrored in her own veins. Neither of them lifted their gaze, afraid that meeting each other’s eyes would break the fragile hold they had on the moment.

Judy still felt her everywhere - Valerie’s warmth stamped into her skin, the ghost of her lips trailing across her collarbone, her thighs, her ribs. Every inch of her body carried the memory of Valerie’s touch, mapped so carefully she doubted she would ever scrub it clean. Even the ache on the inside of her thigh - where Val had left her mark - throbbed with each small movement, the soft graze of sweatpants fabric against the bruised skin sending little sparks of sensation shooting through her. It hurt, and yet she clung to the pain, treasured it, craved it. It tethered her to Valerie, to the fleeting dream she wasn’t ready to let go of.

The silence stretched, heavy, suffocating. Judy risked a glance. Valerie stood rigid, her head bowed, loose strands of hair curtaining her face. Her free hand flexed restlessly at her side, the muscle in her jaw jumping with restraint. She looked like she was fighting herself - fighting the same storm of grief and longing that churned inside Judy’s own chest. The sight made Judy’s throat close up, the words she wanted to say strangling themselves before they could form.

Without thinking, Judy moved. She stepped forward, unable to endure the distance any longer and threw her arms around Valerie, clinging to her. Valerie stiffened for a heartbeat, breath hitching, and then folded into her, her arms winding tight around Judy’s waist, holding her with the kind of fierceness that spoke of fear and want and something deeper, more fragile. Judy buried her face against Val’s neck, inhaling the scent of her - sweat, smoke, something wild and inescapably hers.

She wanted to bury herself in it, to memorize every molecule of the moment, to carry it with her for as long as she could.

For a second, Judy let herself pretend. Pretend they could stay here, suspended in this perfect, impossible now. That the outside world, the threats, the danger waiting just beyond the door, didn’t exist. She fisted her hands into the back of Valerie’s worn tank top, gripping her like a lifeline, like if she held tight enough she could stop time itself.

But reality clawed at her, reminding her that nothing lasts forever. Her voice broke as she whispered against Valerie’s skin, “I’m gonna miss you.” The words trembled, raw and uneven, barely surviving the short distance between them.

Valerie’s arms tightened, her silence more eloquent than anything she could have said. No promises, no lies. Just the desperate, stubborn hold that said she felt it too.

When Val finally pulled back, it was only far enough for their eyes to meet. Judy’s breath caught at the sight. There was something broken there, something naked and tender that Valerie usually kept buried beneath her smirks and sharp words. It gutted Judy, seeing her so open, so fragile. It made it so much harder to walk away.

Their final kiss was nothing like the ones before. It wasn’t hungry or desperate - it was slow, unhurried, gentle. A goodbye, a promise, a thousand unsaid things pressed into the meeting of their lips. When they parted, their foreheads stayed pressed together for a moment longer, breathing the same shaky air, neither willing to let go.

“I’ll see you soon,” Valerie whispered, the words cracked and fraying at the edges. “I promise.”

Judy nodded, unable to speak past the lump in her throat. She let her arms fall away as Valerie stepped back, the door creaking open on its old hinges. The hallway beyond spilled harsh, sterile light into the room, slicing through the shadows, dividing them.

Judy lingered, her gaze locking with Valerie’s, meeting the gray irises one last time. And there it was - Val’s signature wink, the cocky little smirk she’d worn the first night they met, that reckless grin that had hooked Judy's heart before she even knew it.

Judy smiled back, the weight of it crushing her ribs, and turned away before she could lose her nerve. She stepped into the hallway, the door clicking shut behind her, soft and final. Valerie was gone. But the ache, the mark, the memory - those stayed with her, stitched deep beneath her skin. And for now, for as long as she could bear it, they would have to be enough.

Chapter Text

Chapter XXVI | I Don't Wanna Live Forever
I just wanna keep calling your name until you come back home.

It had been four weeks.

Four weeks suspended in limbo, each passing day felt like a test of her resolve. Time no longer moved in hours or minutes - it dragged in breaths and heartbeats, each one laced with a silent question she couldn’t answer. Judy didn’t know if the surgery had worked. If Johnny was truly gone. If Valerie had survived.

The not-knowing hollowed her out. The silence felt deliberate, almost cruel - like the world was holding its breath and she was the only one suffocating. She feared what the quiet meant. She feared what the FIA had done. What if they hadn’t freed Val, and she just traded one leash for another? What if she had been forced back - another mission, another condition, another sacrifice demanded from someone who’d already bled too much?

That fear lived in her chest like a second heartbeat.

For four weeks, Judy had carried this truth alone, burying it beneath layers of pretense. To the rest of the world, she wore a mask. The brokenness wasn’t hard to fake because she was broken - just not for the reasons they thought. The story she gave was simple - a fling over, a goodbye spoken. She told people they’d ended things, gone their separate ways, that it wasn’t meant to be. Everyone accepted it. No one looked twice.

But they didn’t see the tremble in her hands. They didn’t see the way her eyes lingered on her blank screen, waiting for a message that never came. She wasn’t mourning a breakup. She was clinging to a promise - a whispered vow on sweat-slicked skin. Val was supposed to come back to her. But with each silent sunrise, that promise faded like breath on glass. Still there, but only if she looked closely. Only if she believed.

The nights were the worst. Judy wore one of Valerie’s old shirts to bed - black, soft, fraying at the hem. It used to smell like her - something sweet and bitter all at once. Now the scent was faint, overtaken by Judy’s own. And still she clung to it like it could anchor her. She curled around it, held it close, breathed it in until sleep came. Or didn’t.

Most nights, the images returned. Valerie’s body crumpled. Still. Empty. No spark in her eyes, no strength in her limbs. Judy would bolt upright, the ghost of a scream in her throat, her hands shaking, searching for someone who wasn’t there. Then she’d fold in on herself, crying into the sheets, whispering promises to a god she didn’t believe in.

Valerie was everywhere and nowhere. Her voice slipped into Judy’s head uninvited - raspy, teasing, intimate. She’d say something sly and stupid, or suddenly she’d be serious, promising love like it was a truth written in stone. Judy could almost hear her laughter, almost feel her weight beside her, strong arms around her waist, mouth brushing the curve of her neck.

She’d scroll through photos from the tournament sometimes - the two of them sweaty and beaming, flushed with victory. Valerie’s arm slung over her shoulder, their eyes locked in a secret only they shared. Those frozen frames cut deeper than any blade. They made it so easy to believe that maybe she could turn back time. That maybe they were still there, hearts beating in sync. Before the silence came. But it always did come.

Four weeks passed in a haze. The new season loomed, and training gave her something to hold onto - something physical, something real. Distraction. She could run drills, burn herself out, lose herself in repetition. For a few hours, the storm quieted.

But it always found her again. Always.

Because no matter how fast she moved, she couldn’t outrun her thoughts. The scenarios in her head grew darker, crueler. What if Valerie wasn’t coming back? What if Judy already lost her? Judy might have to learn how to live without her, how to move forward into a life that now felt empty and unfamiliar.

Numbness had become her constant companion. Detached from everyone, from everything, she felt like an outsider watching her own life unfold, unable to step into it. Part of her was still in that hotel room in Barcelona. The air thick with heat and salt and sex. Valerie’s lips ghosting down her spine, whispering love like a prayer. She could still feel it - Valerie’s mouth, her hands, her breath. She felt alive then, seen, devoured. Loved.

That couldn’t have been goodbye. It couldn’t have been the end.

But the thought pressed in around her, suffocating, a weighted blanket she couldn’t shake off. Beneath her skin, a storm churned - rage, sorrow, panic, hope clinging to its last thread. Judy didn’t know how to carry it all. She didn’t know how to let it go.

And now she sat on Rita’s couch, her head tipped back against the cushion, absently scratching the label from a beer bottle. She stared at the patterns on the ceiling, trying to lose herself in their symmetry. She wasn’t thinking about Valerie. At least, she was trying not to. Not about their last hours together. Not about the way her inbox remained empty. Or about the possibility that this silence was permanent. But the thoughts pressed in, uninvited and merciless, crowding the edges of her mind until she couldn’t breathe without tasting them.

Noise bled in from the kitchen - Rita’s laugh, glasses clinking, the low thump of a bassline threading through the floor like a pulse - but it all sounded far away, like she was submerged, listening from underwater. The muffled murmur of a party she wasn’t part of anymore.

The couch dipped beside her. She barely noticed. Her gaze stayed fixed on the ceiling like it was the only thing steady in a room that kept spinning. The shifting weight might’ve been Rita, back with another bottle and a sarcastic remark about her talent for brooding at parties. She almost prepared herself for it, for the inevitable teasing, but the voice that came wasn’t Rita’s.

“Hey… you okay?”

The words - soft, careful, almost hesitant - pierced through the static in her head, enough to make her blink and glance to the side. A girl sat next to her - someone she didn’t recognize. She had dark curls that caught the faint light, skin warm and freckled, and a smile that hovered somewhere between shy and taunting. But it was her eyes that caught Judy’s attention - gray, storm-swept, flecked with something that looked like light. Not the same shade as Val’s - too soft, not as sharp - but close enough that Judy’s breath caught for a moment, her heart doing a startled stutter in her chest.

She didn’t answer right away. Just watched the stranger with quiet scrutiny, not cold, but cautious. There was no false charm in her posture, no pushiness in her tone. She just... sat there. Present. Open. Like she wasn’t in a rush to fill the space between them. It wasn’t the flashy allure Judy was used to at these parties - the kind that demanded attention like a stage light. This was quieter.

And that, more than anything, threw Judy off.

Her gaze drifted across the room, instinctively scanning the crowd - and there they were. Rita and Vanessa, half-tucked against a wall with red cups in hand. Nessie wore that usual smirk, arms folded and eyes gleaming with smug intent. Rita, on the other hand, looked like the cat that got into the cream - grinning so wide Judy could see it even from the distance.

Her stomach sank. A sigh escaped her lips as she let her head tip back against the cushion, eyes closing briefly.

Rita’s fingerprints were all over this.

“Did Reet send you?” she asked, her voice dry, tinged with exhaustion and something like reluctant amusement.

The girl blinked, then smiled - this time with a conspiratorial curve that tugged at Judy despite herself.

“I don’t know if sent is the right word,” she said slowly. “She might’ve... strongly encouraged me.”

Judy snorted, a short, sharp sound from the back of her throat. She looked down at the half-peeled label in her hand, fingers still worrying at it like it was something that mattered. She could almost hear Rita’s voice, fast and persuasive, coaxing this girl into sitting next to the most emotionally unavailable person at the party. Always meddling. Always hoping. Always pushing Judy to feel something.

She didn’t even blame her, not really. She understood why Rita did it - why she tried so hard to break through the static. But there were pieces of this story Rita would never understand. Things Judy didn’t talk about. Things she couldn’t talk about. Some ghosts weren’t meant to be shared. And some names still hurt too much to speak aloud.

The girl tilted her head, just slightly - barely enough to register. She was studying Judy, but not in the way strangers usually did. There was no challenge in her gaze, no hunger, no idolizing recognition. Just cool, storm-gray eyes watching her with a disarming blend of curiosity and patience. As if she was parsing something more intimate than words, reading the tension behind Judy’s shoulders, the tired wariness around her eyes.

“But,” the girl said, voice softened like she was afraid of pushing too hard, “I didn’t come over just because of that. You looked like you could use some company. Was I wrong?”

The flicker that crossed Judy’s face wasn’t quite a smile - more of a ghost of a smirk. It twitched at her lips like it had been dragged out against her will, tugged loose from some place she thought was still locked down. “Depends,” she replied, sharp enough to keep her armor in place. “What kind of company are you offering?”

That earned her a grin. Wide, self-assured, tinged with something playful that skirted dangerously close to cocky. “That depends on what kind of company you’re looking for.”

Judy snorted softly, her head tilting in that way she did when she wasn’t buying it but wasn’t quite ready to walk away. “You’re assuming I’m looking for anything.”

“Maybe,” the girl said with a half-shrug, settling more comfortably into the couch as if she belonged there. “But for someone who’s here to sulk and ignore everyone, you’ve already made an effort. You talked back. And for what it’s worth… you’re smiling.” A pause. “That’s something.”

She said it lightly, like she wasn’t trying too hard. Like she didn’t care if Judy snapped back. Her name came next, dropped with the sort of casual charm that had probably gotten her into a lot of trouble and out of most of it. “I’m Maddie, by the way.”

“Judy,” she returned. The word clipped, but not hostile. “Not that I think I needed to tell you.”

Her gaze flicked briefly toward Rita - who was neck-deep in conversation with Roxanne, but still managed to throw Judy a knowing wink before turning away again. Always watching. Always two steps ahead, even when pretending not to be.

“I knew,” Maddie admitted, adjusting her position with lazy grace. She tucked her knees up and leaned into the corner of the couch, resting her head in her palm, relaxed but intentional. “You’re kind of hot shit around here.”

That pulled a laugh out of Judy, dry and unimpressed. “Am I now?”

“Captain of the Dolls,” Maddie rattled off, ticking the points on her fingers as if she’d memorized the list. “Star striker. League’s champion. World silver medalist. Came back to Pittsburgh with the whole stadium chanting your name.” She smirked. “Pretty impressive. And, might I add… also cute.”

Judy raised a brow, finishing off her drink and setting the empty bottle down with a quiet clink. “Seems like you’ve got me all figured out,” she said. The sarcasm in her tone came easy, but underneath it, something quieter stirred - unsettled and flickering.

Maddie didn’t rise to the bait. Her grin softened, the edge of it fading into something more thoughtful. “Not fully,” she admitted. Her voice dipped. “I don’t know why you’re looking so miserable.”

That caught Judy off-guard - not because it was wrong, but because it was too close to right. She didn’t answer, didn’t blink, just waited.

“But I’m gonna take a wild guess and say it’s about a girl.”

The words landed like a flick to the chest. Too direct. Too specific. Judy’s smile twisted bitterly as if trying to laugh it off. “Isn’t it always?” she replied, a touch too flippant to be casual. The mask of indifference slipped on easily, but it didn’t hide the smoke curling beneath - remnants of something still smoldering, not yet burned out.

Maddie leaned in just a little, not aggressive, but curious in a way that felt… pointed. “So,” she said softly, “tell me about her.”

Judy froze - not visibly, but inside, something locked up. The weight of the question dropped straight into her gut. Her walls went up on instinct. “No offense, Maddie,” she said, and there was steel in her voice now, carefully measured. “But I don’t really feel like talking about her.”

If Maddie was put off, she didn’t show it. “She did a number on you, huh? Messy breakup?”

Judy’s jaw flexed. “Maybe,” she muttered, her voice carefully restrained, like a lid held tight over a pot about to boil.

“Come on,” Maddie pressed, still smiling, her tone light but edged now, like a blade sheathed under silk. “You could have anyone in this room—hell, anyone in the city. And here you are, hung up on some player who broke your heart. What did she do to you?”

That did it. The shift was subtle, almost imperceptible, but Judy felt it in her bones. Something in the air turned sharp. Buzz of the evening, up until then warm and numbing, cleared in an instant. A chill ran up her spine, the kind that never lied. Her body went still, too still, while her mind began working at a fever pitch. The low hum of conversation and laughter around her seemed to recede, leaving only Maddie’s words echoing in her head.

How did she know?

She hadn’t said Valerie’s name. Hadn’t said anything real, in fact. Her expression didn’t change, but her breath did - a small hitch, almost inaudible. Rita wouldn’t have said anything about Val. Not to a stranger. And Maddie… Maddie wasn’t even someone Judy had heard of before tonight.

Now she couldn’t shake the feeling she’d just been circling a trap. The words hadn’t been curious. They’d been precise. Rehearsed. Pushed at exactly the right bruise. The whole situation felt off. Calculated, planned, like someone testing the waters. Her instincts, honed by too many close calls, screamed a single word - run.

She forced her limbs to stay loose, her voice level. “I’m gonna grab another beer,” she said, light, easy, even as adrenaline hummed under her skin like a live wire. She stood up slow, every motion practiced and unhurried, like it wasn’t her heart slamming in her chest. “Be right back.”

She walked, not fast, not slow, but she could feel Maddie’s gaze cling to her like static electricity. Down her back. Over her shoulders. Her skin prickled with it.

She didn’t look back. She just kept walking, eyes scanning, mind racing. Because whatever this was - flirtation, ambush, test - it wasn’t just some drunk party girl making conversation. Something was very wrong. And Judy had just started to realize how far out of her depth she might be.

The kitchen felt like it was holding its breath. The hum of the fridge, the faint creak of aging floorboards - it all seemed amplified beneath the weight pressing down on Judy’s chest. She opened the refrigerator with a slow pull, eyes scanning the barren shelves. A lone beer bottle stared back at her like a half-hearted promise. She grabbed it, the glass slick with condensation, cold enough to make her fingers ache. That small sting grounded her, but barely.

With a swift motion - too practiced for someone trying to look calm - she popped the cap off on the edge of the counter. The metallic clatter of it hitting the floor sounded distant, like it belonged to someone else's evening. She didn’t bother to look for it. Just tipped the bottle to her lips and drank deep, hoping the bitterness would coat more than just her tongue - hoping it might dull the slow panic building behind her ribs.

The chill of the countertop bit into her back as she leaned against it, but it wasn’t enough. The storm inside her wouldn’t quiet. Her thoughts spiraled - Maddie’s words looping back again and again, too sharp, too neat. Too fucking prepared. Judy’s grip on the bottle tightened until the glass creaked faintly beneath her fingers.

FIA.

She hadn’t let herself say the word aloud yet, hadn’t dared to give it shape. But now it pulsed at the center of her mind like a live wire.

She stared toward the doorway, every nerve on edge, skin prickling like she could feel surveillance on her even here. If Maddie was more than she seemed, if this was more than just Rita and Nessie trying to patch her up post-Valerie… then someone out there still thought Judy mattered. That she was a pressure point worth pushing. If Maddie was here to dig into her life, test her, to probe for cracks in her story, Judy had to figure it out fast.

A sound - a whisper of footsteps - cut through the tension, and Judy’s shoulders tensed. She turned sharply as Vanessa stepped into the kitchen, hoodie sleeves swallowed halfway down her hands, her frame small and hesitant.

“Hey,” she said softly, pausing just out of arm’s reach. “You okay?”

Judy didn’t answer at first. Just brought the bottle back to her lips and took a slow sip. The liquid was flat now, lukewarm around the edges, but it gave her something to do. Her other hand clung to the counter like she might fall without it.

Finally, she looked at Vanessa, her expression unreadable but no longer kind. “Yeah,” she said flatly. “Why?”

Nessie fidgeted, glancing down before looking back up. “Just… checking in. And, uh…” She hesitated. “We were worried. After everything with Valerie. Rita said you’ve been kinda off. And Maddie, well… we thought maybe she could help. Y’know, get your mind off things.”

The mention of Val’s name was like a blow to the chest. Her breath caught and then steadied, forced calm that didn’t reach her eyes. Her fingers flexed around the neck of the bottle. “Don’t need help,” she said, sharper now. “Especially not ones you randomly picked out. How do you even know her?”

Vanessa blinked at the sudden shift, her expression caught between surprise and unease. “She came into the shop,” she said after a pause. “Last week. We got talking. She’s…” Her lips curled slightly, tone softening. “She’s sweet. Charming. Kinda lights up the room.”

Judy’s stomach twisted. She kept her expression still, but her grip didn’t loosen.

“She kept asking about you,” Vanessa added, like it was an afterthought. But Judy’s heart stuttered.

“About me?”

Nessie nodded. “Yeah. She was curious. Asked what you were like, what you’ve been up to. Why you don’t go out with the rest of us anymore. I mean, she didn’t say it outright… but got the feeling she’s kinda into you.” A small smile. “So, I figured, hey, why not? Thought maybe it’d cheer you up.”

Judy stood frozen. The words crawled over her skin like ants. Maddie’s careful questions, her innocent laughs, the way she listened - too closely, too well. All of it clicked, but not cleanly. Not completely. FIA didn’t ask questions, they acted. So, what was Maddie doing? Setting a trap? Or sniffing for bait?

But if they’d sent someone, it meant Valerie was still a problem to them. Still alive. Still dangerous. The thought bloomed like a flare inside her. Painful, radiant, irrational hope. Maybe Val had kept her in the dark to protect her. Maybe she knew they’d come for Judy first.

A twitch tugged at the corner of Judy’s lips, brief as lightning. Vanessa mistook it for something softer.

“Oh, you do like her,” she grinned. “Good. Have fun, Alvy.”

She left with that, the weight of her assumption trailing after her like perfume. Judy stood in the silence, staring at the half-empty bottle in her hand. Her smile faded, replaced by something colder, more resolved.

If Maddie was FIA, they were fishing. That meant they didn’t have Valerie. Didn’t even know where to start looking for her. They were playing the long game now, hoping Judy would be the thread that unraveled something bigger. But Judy could turn that around. Feed them what they wanted to hear. Buy Val time.

She downed the last of the beer, set the bottle down with a soft clink, and took a slow, steady breath. Then she filled a glass with water and turned back toward the living room.

If Maddie wanted to play games, Judy would play. And she’d do it with a smile - because every move she made now might bring her closer to the woman they’d tried so hard to bury.

The coffee shop was alive with its usual symphony - a quiet hum of conversations layered with the rhythmic hiss and sputter of the espresso machine. Judy sat by the window, the slant of the late afternoon sun painting her table with golden streaks, the light catching in the faint scratches on the worn wood. Her iced latte sat untouched in front of her, the glass sweating in the warmth, sending trails of condensation down to pool into a faint ring. One hand twirled the straw with absent precision, the other curled beneath her chin as she stared into the swirling cream, as if the truth might settle there.

Last night had taken up residence in her head and refused to leave. Like an itch she couldn’t scratch. Maddie had been on Rita’s battered couch, knees tucked beneath her, the lamplight catching the gleam in her dark hair every time she shifted. She’d looked comfortable, casual, almost innocent. But Judy knew better. There was a shape beneath the surface of their conversation - a sharpness to Maddie’s curiosity that hadn’t belonged.

They’d chatted for over an hour. On the surface, harmless things - the tournament, the atmosphere in the locker room, favorite bands, hobbies outside soccer. But Maddie’s questions had too much weight behind them. When she brought up the moment after the Argentina match - when Judy had collapsed into Valerie’s arms, their faces close, breaths mingling - it hadn’t felt like gossip about a goal that sparked a million retweets. It felt like a probe. Like Maddie knew. Or had been told. And she wanted to see what Judy would give away if she danced close to the flame.

Judy had answered with care, each word weighed, instinct curling tighter in her gut with every feigned smile and lighthearted chuckle. Maddie hadn’t mentioned Valerie’s name once, something Judy noticed but didn’t trust. Instead, she asked about Judy’s teammates, the post-semis celebrations, and the chaos of their arrival in Pittsburgh - but never directly about her.

Judy’s hand tightened around the cold glass, and she took a small sip. Maybe it’s nothing, she tried to convince herself for the hundredth time. Maybe Maddie was just interested. Maybe she just wanted to fuck her. The thought sparked an unbidden flush along her neck. She scolded herself. It wasn’t about that. Even if Maddie was funny, charismatic and attractive, she wasn’t interested.

And something felt off. It felt surgical. There was a precision to Maddie’s interest that didn’t feel natural. And precision like that wasn’t just dangerous - it was deadly when you carried the kind of secrets Judy did. Paranoia was second nature by now. She wasn’t immune to it after everything she’d learned over the last few months. After everything she'd been dragged through. Secrets had a way of sharpening your instincts, making every shadow feel like a threat.

Judy’s fingertips tapped against the glass, a restless rhythm betraying the tension she tried to disguise. Every time the bell above the café door chimed, her heart jumped, her eyes flicking up. She scanned every new arrival with anxiety of someone who couldn’t afford to be surprised.

That’s why she’d picked this place. This crowded coffee shop, this table bathed in warm light, fully in the open. She’d invited Maddie here not for a date, not even to talk - but to watch. To see where the cracks formed. If Maddie was just a girl with a crush and a sharp mind, Judy could navigate that. Let her down easy. Keep the distance polite. But if Maddie was something else - someone else - then Judy needed to see it before it was too late.

The door jingled again. Judy’s heart jerked in her chest as Maddie stepped inside.

She wore black jeans and a loose gray tee, her hair pulled back into a ponytail that did nothing to dull her poise. Her gaze sweeping the café in one smooth arc before it landed on Judy. That smile - warm, effortless - spread across her lips as she walked over, and Judy felt the instinctual coil of suspicion tighten again.

She sat up straighter. Her fingers slid from the glass to the edge of the table, anchoring herself. Her instincts screamed, but Judy kept her expression open, welcoming, careful. The smile she offered in return was soft but unreadable.

She’d invited Maddie here for answers. She would get them. And she would do it without giving away the storm gathering beneath her skin.

The park stretched before them, a quiet place caught between the warmth of lingering summer and the crisp promise of autumn. Sunlight filtered through the branches overhead, casting dappled patterns on the gravel path beneath their boots. Judy walked beside Maddie, their steps falling into an unspoken rhythm. Somewhere in the distance, a dog barked - a sharp, singular sound that cut through the stillness before the hush settled around them again, thicker this time.

Their conversation was a threadbare thing. Empty words strung together, hollow echoes meant to fill the void between them. They stuck to easy things - favorite vinyl haunts, movies they watched recently, local coffee spots, the crisp edge of the wind that hinted colder days incoming. Maddie’s laugh came freely and each time it did, Judy felt the corners of her own mouth betray her guarded thoughts. A small smile here. A softer glance there. It was disarming, how quickly Maddie’s presence dulled the raw edge Judy had been carrying since the night before.

She hadn’t meant to let her guard slip, not even this much. But Maddie wasn’t asking sharp questions or watching her too closely. She didn’t steer the conversation anywhere near danger, didn’t fish for names or slip hidden meanings beneath her words. She just walked, and talked, and listened. And Judy began to wonder - maybe she’d gotten it wrong. Maybe Maddie wasn’t tied to the FIA. Maybe she wasn’t another shadow hunting Valerie down. Maybe she didn’t have ulterior motives. Maybe… she was just someone who wanted to share space with her for a while. Someone who liked the sound of Judy’s laugh and wasn’t in a hurry to steal anything more than a few minutes of her afternoon.

Still, Judy didn’t fully drop the wall. It wasn’t tall, not anymore, but it was there - a glass pane she could see through, touch, but not move beyond. A quiet reminder that however easy Maddie was to be around, however tempting her warmth might be, Judy’s heart still belonged to someone else, fractured as it might be. She wasn’t ready to let anyone else inside - not now, not when the wounds were still open and aching, not while she was still picking up the pieces of something she didn’t want to let go of.

She decided that when they looped back toward the park’s exit, she’d thank Maddie for the walk. Be gentle. She’d keep it kind, keep it clean. No mess, no guessing. She’d draw the line before either of them had to reach for it.

But then Maddie slowed, just ahead of her, and Judy’s thoughts caught short.

They had come to a small clearing where the trees parted just enough for the sunlight to slip through in amber ribbons, pooling across the ground like spilled honey. A weathered bench sat nestled beneath the oaks, its slats worn smooth by time and the weight of quiet afternoons. Maddie turned toward Judy with that same easy smile - nothing pressed, nothing urgent - and gestured with a tilt of her head.

“Want to sit for a bit?”

Judy hesitated. Some inner part of her said to keep walking, to stay in motion, to outrun whatever this might become. But then Maddie smiled again - wider, but no less sincere - and the part of Judy that was tired of running gave in.

“Yeah,” she said, her voice quieter than she meant it to be. “Sure.”

She sank onto the bench and Maddie joined her, stretching her legs out and crossing them at the ankles, her shoulder not quite brushing Judy’s. For a while, they said nothing. The silence between them was softer now, not tense or weighted, just... still. The kind of quiet that settles between people when there’s no need to fill it. Judy leaned back and looked up, watching how the breeze tugged at the branches above them, shifting the leaves like an old lullaby.

She was already beginning to shape the goodbye in her mind - careful, painless, no regrets - when Maddie shifted beside her. It wasn’t much, just a tilt of the body, a subtle turning of intent, but Judy felt it instantly. She looked over, her breath catching just a little as she saw the change in Maddie’s face. The playfulness was gone now. In its place was something steadier. Something serious.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Depends,” Judy said, cautious. Her voice sharpened just enough to cut. “On what you’re asking.”

Maddie paused, not retreating. Her eyes, cool and steady, lingered on Judy’s face as if trying to read the thoughts shifting beneath it. “Are you ready to move on?”

The words landed like a slap through cold air - unexpected, uninvited, and entirely too direct. Judy blinked, her pulse faltering. A dozen answers jostled behind her ribs, instinct pushing her toward deflection. A joke. A shrug. Something forgettable. But Maddie’s tone wasn’t casual. It had weight. Knowledge.

“What exactly are you asking?”

"The break-up,” she said quietly. “With Bakker. That had to mess you up. I mean—sorry if it’s too personal, but—”

Judy felt her stomach flip. “Wait.” The ease she’d worn earlier cracked. “How do you even know it was Valerie?”

There was a pause. Maddie’s lips quirked, as if the answer amused her. “Come on,” she said, tone light but laced with something else. “That celebration? You two nearly kissed in front of half the world. I wasn’t sure… but it wasn’t hard to guess.”

Judy’s breath stalled. She tasted the bitterness of the lie before it left her tongue, familiar and ash-heavy. “It wasn’t serious,” she said coolly, trying to sound unbothered. “The tournament ended. We both moved on. Wouldn’t be here with you if it meant anything.”

Maddie didn’t flinch. If anything, her grin grew, sly and knowing. “Then why haven’t you kissed me yet?”

Judy’s jaw clenched. That one dug in deep. Guilt flickered across her face before she stood up, her hands fidgeting at her waistband like she needed something to hold on to. “Maybe because I’m not looking for anything,” she snapped, sharper than she meant. “The season’s starting. I’ve got enough on my plate…”

But the words didn’t carry weight. They hung limp between them, trailed off, leaving an unfinished void in the air. Maddie didn’t press. Instead, she moved closer, like she already knew Judy wouldn’t run. She crossed the space with a fluid ease, fingers brushing over Judy’s forearm - just a whisper of contact. Soft and intimate. The kind of touch meant to soothe, but Judy only stiffened beneath it.

“You’re always so tense,” she said gently. Her voice was velvet, coaxing. “Just… relax, Judy.”

Her gaze dipped to Judy’s lips, and the intent was unmistakable. She leaned in - slow, reverent - as if giving Judy every chance to stop her.

And she did. Judy’s hand came up before their lips could meet, steady and firm against Maddie’s shoulder. Not a shove. A stop.

“I can’t,” she whispered, the regret raw in her throat. “This doesn’t feel right. I don’t want to hurt you, but… I’ve too much on my mind right now.”

Maddie didn’t recoil. She just tilted her head, studying her. When she spoke again, her tone was easy, almost teasing. “Things? Or someone?” Judy hesitated, and Maddie kept going, like she could smell the uncertainty. “It doesn’t have to mean anything. We could go back to my place, have some fun. No expectations. No strings attached. Call it a rebound.”

Judy’s answer was quieter, but it carried weight now. “No.” 

For a moment, Maddie didn’t react. Then something flickered across her lips - a smirk, faint and cold, gone almost before it fully formed. Judy caught it anyway. 

Her blood ran colder. Everything snapped into place at once. The kindness, the flirtation, the perfectly timed questions - they hadn’t been about attraction. They had been careful incisions. Precise, deliberate, meant to press just the right buttons, to elicit just the right reactions. Maddie had been carving her open piece by piece, leading Judy into a trap, searching for weakness.

And Judy had shown her one. Her loyalty to Valerie.

That name still lived in her like a bruise that wouldn’t fade. It throbbed when no one was looking. The strength in her, the gravel of her voice, the heat of her touch - ghosts that clung to Judy like a second skin. And even now, even after everything, Judy couldn’t give her up. She was still out there somewhere, with her smirks and her scars, still trying to come back. And for Judy, that was the only truth that mattered.

Her hands curled into fists. “Who are you really?” she asked, the words quiet but sharp as glass.

Maddie’s smile bloomed again, this time empty of earlier warmth. It was a knife dressed in silk. Cool and sharp-edged, carrying the faintest glimmer of triumph.

“Just someone curious.”

“What do you want?” Judy’s voice came out sharper than she intended, steeled with anger but shaking underneath. Her pulse thundered in her ears, drowning out everything.

Maddie tilted her head, as if amused by the question. She didn’t answer right away. Instead, she studied Judy with the lazy cruelty of someone who already knew how the scene would end. Then her grin widened, twisted and vicious, all teeth and rot.

“Heard that pussy of yours is prime stuff,” she said, her words cutting like barbed wire. “Thought I’d check it out for myself.”

A wave of nausea surged through Judy, hot and sickening. Her stomach clenched, a visceral, automatic response that made her want to strike out - or disappear entirely.

“Get the fuck away from me,” she hissed, her teeth bared, every syllable honed to a blade. She didn’t flinch, didn’t look away, though her whole body thrummed with the instinct to run. Rage and revulsion coiled in her chest, pulsing like a second heartbeat.

For a breathless second, Maddie didn’t move. She just stared, eyes unreadable, pupils pinprick sharp like a predator amused by the fear it had stirred. Then she shrugged with a casual grace that felt rehearsed.

“Your loss,” Maddie said, voice airy, tossed off like a joke - but beneath it, something darker coiled, subtle as a toxin. Her gaze lingered a heartbeat longer, dragging across Judy’s face, her stance, before she turned and walked away, each step echoing like a slow drumbeat in Judy’s skull.

Even after she was gone, Judy couldn’t move. Her body remained frozen, rooted to the cracked pavement, breath shallow and uneven, the aftertaste of bile thick in her throat. Maddie - or whatever her real name was - had stripped the mask away and left Judy raw and vulnerable.

The silence was deafening, a void more terrifying than threats or blows. Because now Judy understood - this hadn’t been a confrontation. It had been a warning. Or worse, a test. Judy’s mind reeled, spiraling back to that conversation with Alex all those weeks ago. The warnings she hadn’t wanted to hear. She was just a pawn in someone else’s game. She hadn’t believed it, or maybe she hadn’t wanted to. But Maddie’s look, that mocking retreat, the way she spoke like she already knew what mattered most - it all made sense now.

She knew. About her loyalty to Valerie. About the way Judy’s heart still trailed behind her like a tether, always tied to Val no matter how far she ran. Maddie had peeled back every layer Judy thought she’d buried.

But why she’d just… walked away?

That was the worst of it. Not the threat itself - but the absence of one. No retaliation. No warning shot. Just the implication. The freedom Maddie granted her was laced with something colder than malice. It was strategy.

Judy’s hands trembled at her sides, and her chest ached like it was caught in a vice. Valerie had been right all along. The FIA wasn’t just watching - they were circling. And Judy, in all her recklessness, had stepped right into their net, thinking she could turn the trap around.  She thought she was the one playing Maddie. That she’d be able to squeeze her for any scrap of intel about Valerie’s whereabouts. But now, the game was over.

Judy exhaled shakily, her heart hammering in her ribs like it was trying to escape her chest. She had failed. Failed to stay invisible, to protect the one person she swore she’d never endanger again. And if Valerie was still out there, if she was still fighting, still holding on - Judy had just become the perfect leverage to break her.

And Maddie hadn’t needed to lay a finger on her to make that clear.

Judy climbed the narrow stairs to her apartment, each step dragging like dead weight behind her. The ache in her muscles had settled into something deep and familiar - a dull throb from the hours she’d poured into training, trying to quiet her thoughts with sweat and repetition.

But the exhaustion wasn’t just in her limbs. It was coiled behind her ribs, heavy and tight, fed by a week of silence that clung to her like dirt.

Since that last talk with Maddie, the world had gone still. No threats. No strange vans idling too long on her block. Just the kind of quiet that didn’t soothe - it suffocated. The kind of quiet that didn’t feel like peace, but like breath held too long before the plunge. And Judy could feel it. The eyes on her. The weight of them. The way the shadows moved wrong in alleyways.

Maddie had to be FIA. She knew it now, in her bones. But if they had her, if they’d made their move - why this silence? What were they waiting for? What game they played?

Her building loomed around her like a tomb, every step up the stairwell echoing louder than it should. She reached her floor, exhaling sharply as she adjusted the strap of her duffel, her body half on autopilot - until her gaze caught on the door.

It wasn’t shut. Not completely. The lock sat untouched, the bolt still flush in place, but the door itself hung open by the barest margin. Not forced, not kicked in. Opened.

Her heart lurched into overdrive, the adrenaline flushing away her fatigue in one brutal rush. The duffel slipped from her shoulder and hit the floor with a dull, forgotten thud. Judy stood there a moment, breath shallow, body tense. Listening. Waiting. Her fingers curled into fists, and slowly, cautiously, she pushed the door open.

It groaned on its hinges, loud in the stillness. Too loud.

Her world tilted in an instant. Air fled her lungs in a panicked rush.

Hands burst from the shadows, brutal and fast. She didn’t have time to cry out - barely had time to register the blur of motion before she was slammed back into the door, the force of it rattling through her bones as it crashed shut behind her. Her feet left the ground. A hand, unrelenting and cold, closed around her throat.

Judy clawed at the grip, nails digging into flesh that didn’t yield. Her vision blurred, spots dancing at the edges as her body spasmed with the instinct to survive. She kicked out, thrashed, every movement frantic and wild. Her brain screamed for oxygen. The faintest glint of steel eyes pierced the haze, sharp and predatory, just before the world started to slip away.

“Got you!”

Her fight stuttered.

“Ah, it’s just you,” Maddie muttered, her tone shifting to something almost dismissive.

The pressure around her throat vanished and Judy collapsed, crashing to her knees as her body convulsed with violent coughing. The floor felt miles away, hard and uncaring beneath her palms. Her lungs burned as she dragged in gulps of air too large for her throat to manage. She clutched at her neck, fingers trembling over tender skin that already pulsed with the promise of vivid bruises.

She couldn’t breathe right. Couldn’t think. She curled inward, gasping, vision swimming in tears she hadn’t meant to shed. Rage warred with humiliation. Shame burned hot against the helplessness still rattling through her bones.

By the time she looked up, Maddie was standing over her, grinning like a cat with blood on its teeth. No regret in her eyes - just gleaming, twisted satisfaction. Judy's fury surged, but she had no air left for words, no strength to rise.

Then Maddie turned her head toward the bathroom door, her voice syrup-thick with mockery. “Hey, Papa-Handler,” she called, smirking. “Found Judy. Maybe she knows where your precious pet is hiding.”

Those words struck her like a blow. Her stomach clenched, ice threading through her veins as her heart seemed to stop mid-beat. It wasn’t just Maddie. She wasn’t working alone.

A shadow moved. Heavy steps creaked from the bathroom threshold, deliberate and slow. The silhouette that emerged was broad-shouldered and severe, wrapped in dark synth-leather and quiet menace. Boots scuffed against the worn floorboards, each step careful, measured. A limp tugged slightly at his gait.

Reed.

He stopped just short of her, his eyes sweeping the room with clinical detachment. When his gaze found Maddie, a flash of something colder stirred beneath the surface.

“What did you do to her, Ames?” His voice was low, sharp with control, but the edge of it was razor-thin.

Maddie just shrugged, her grin lazy and shameless. “Thought it was V,” she said, stretching her shoulders, the motors in her cybernetic limbs humming softly. “Wanted to say hi. You know, properly. Got these new guerrilla arms. Felt like showing them off.”

Judy couldn't believe what she was hearing. 

“There's nothing here,” she added, glancing around in exaggerated boredom. “We’ve turned this dump upside down. I’m bored.”

Reed’s expression hardened, his jaw clenching as he let out a slow, disbelieving scoff. He crouched beside Judy with a grunt, the movement pained but deliberate. Judy flinched back, recoiling into the wall behind her. Her hands came up, weak but firm, a last defense between them.

“Don’t,” she rasped, her voice shredded, still raw from her recent struggle for air.

He froze. The hand he’d been reaching out with hung in the air, fingers curled. For a moment, he seemed uncertain - an uncharacteristic flicker of hesitation passing across his features. Slowly, he let it drop to his side. His expression shifted - just slightly - but Judy caught it. A crack in the mask. Almost pity. Almost human.

Her glare seared into him, breath still ragged. The defiance in her eyes was sharp, burning with the fragile brilliance of a flame fighting against the dark. Every nerve in her body screamed for vigilance, the instinct to run or fight clawing at her insides. She felt like she was shaking apart at the seams, barely holding herself together. And still - she didn’t look away.

He did.

“Ames, go wait in the car.”

The dark-haired woman, leaning casually against the wall, straightened at the command. Her smile faltered slightly, and she tilted her head, her brow furrowing. “What? Seriously, Sol—”

“Now,” he snapped, his tone cutting through the air like a whip. His sharp glare shifted to Maddie, the intensity of it enough to halt her protest mid-breath. “It’s an order.”

The change in him hit the air like a cold front, sudden and absolute. The way his eyes sliced toward her said the conversation was over before it even began. Maddie’s mouth twitched, shaped into an exaggerated pout meant to mock, but Judy caught the hesitation behind it - the subtle retreat behind the performative flippancy.

“Fine,” she muttered, brushing past with deliberate disinterest. Her shoulder clipped the doorway on her way out.

She paused there, silhouetted in the low light bleeding in from the hallway. The smile was gone now. When she looked back, her eyes were colder. Meaner. Not mocking anymore. Just sharp and gleaming with something feral.

“Have fun, you two.”

The door slammed behind her. And silence that followed felt like a noose.

Reed exhaled through his nose, slow and measured. One hand passed over his short-cropped hair, but it wasn’t a gesture of exasperation - it was restraint. Like he was bleeding tension out through that small movement, trying not to let it show anywhere else. Judy watched him, wary. A man trained to hold the line no matter how close it got to snapping.

When he looked back at her, something in his gaze softened - but the tightness in his jaw stayed. “Are you okay?” he asked, voice quieter now.

Judy didn’t answer. She didn’t even blink. Her chest still hitched with the remnants of adrenaline, and her fists clenched in the fabric of her pants to keep from shaking. She didn’t trust what softness and concern was supposed to mean when it came from someone like him. Maybe it was real, maybe it was just good mimicry. Didn’t matter. She wasn’t going to hand him the benefit of the doubt.

She searched his face like it might betray him. Looking for cracks, tells, shifts in tone or posture. But he gave her nothing. Not even the kind of nothing that felt like a lie. So, she said nothing back. Silence was safer. Silence gave her control.

Reed left without another word, disappearing into the shadows of the apartment. Judy stayed seated, back against the wall, trying to make her lungs obey her. She could hear him moving in the kitchen - cupboards creaking, glass clinking, water running. Each sound felt unnaturally loud in the void he left behind, grating against her raw nerves. She closed her eyes. Leaned her head back and tried to focus on breathing, but the tight ache in her throat made every inhale a battle.

Then came the soft scuff of boots and her eyes snapped open, body tense before she could stop herself. Reed reappeared, crouching beside her, a glass of water in his hand and that damn unreadable look on his face.

Judy hesitated. For one long second, she stared at him, at the shadows painted across his face, the way his eyes stayed steady on hers like he was waiting for something unspoken. She didn’t ask what. Didn’t want to know. She took the glass, her fingers brushing his only briefly, and drank. The water was cool, grounding. Her throat ached as she swallowed, the soreness flaring with every gulp, but it dulled the heat behind her eyes. She drank until it was half-empty, then set it carefully on the floor.

Her head dropped back against the wall. A slow sigh slipped past her lips. “What’s with the psycho?” she asked, her voice flat and hoarse.

Reed sat down beside her, one knee bent, the other stretched out, posture loose but still alert. He turned just enough to look at her - no dramatic movement, no shift in expression. Just calm, calculated stillness.

“I believe you’ve met Mad Amy before,” he said finally. The calmness was real, but it carried something jagged under the surface. A bitterness that didn’t quite make it to his voice but twisted behind his words like smoke curling beneath a floorboard. “She’s my new assignment. Courtesy of Myers. A punishment for my recent… screw-up. Guess she figured pairing me with a lunatic was poetic.”

He paused.

“She took the find and follow Judy Álvarez part a little too seriously.”

Judy let out a sharp, tired breath. It wasn’t quite a laugh. Just something bitter escaping before it could rot her from the inside.

She finally glanced at him. The faint light from the outside softened the harsh lines of his face, but none of it made him look less dangerous. Just quieter. Like a pointed gun with the safety still on.

She didn’t bother asking what web Myers had spun around him. Whatever leash he wore, she doubted he could feel it anymore. And honestly, she didn’t care. She closed her eyes and drew in a slow breath, trying to loosen the knot in her chest - the first real inhale since she walked through the damn door.

“What the fuck do you want from me, Reed?” she asked at last, her voice a low rasp. She didn’t expect an answer she’d like. Hell, she didn’t even know if she wanted one.

Reed’s jaw clenched, and for a second the mask slipped - just a hairline crack down the middle of his practiced calm. The silence between them stretched taut, razor-thin and humming like wire before it snaps. When he spoke, it came like gravel. “You know exactly what we want.”

Judy snorted, a bitter sound that barely passed for amusement. “Guessin’ you didn’t get the memo,” she shot back. “We’ve broken up.”

She said it with a smirk, cold and bitter, reaching for the half-drunk glass of water beside her. She took a sip, chasing away the heat rising in her throat like bile.

“I got the memo,” Reed said, and his chuckle was dry as bone. “Hell, I got a full report from Alex. Said the honeymoon was over. Said V was ready to crawl back into Myers’ lap.” He watched her carefully, waiting to see if she flinched. “It was just a fling. That you didn’t matter. A lapse in judgment, maybe... a fleeting grasp at something normal. Blamed Johnny for it, mostly. Thought after a little push, V would come back same as before. Deadly. Detached. Obedient.”

Judy’s breath caught.

“And you?” she asked, quieter now. The fight didn’t leave her voice, but something cracked beneath it. “You believe that?”

“No,” he said without pause. “Not for a second. I knew she was doing it all to keep you safe. I saw what it cost her. I talked to her.”

“She’s alive?” The question slipped out before she could stop it, tearing its way through her throat like it had claws.

Reed’s brow lifted. “You really don’t know.”

“I told you, we’re not together,” she said quickly, too quickly, the words brittle. “Not since… what happened with Alex. Last time I talked to her was in Barcelona.” She stared at him now, willing the truth to land. “Reed. Is she alive?”

He studied her, his expression shuttered tight. When he finally spoke, his voice was ice cold. “If you’re broken up, why do you care?”

“Fuck you. I’m still fuckin’ human. Sue me,” the words came sharp and venom-laced. Her voice cracked on the last syllable, betrayal and lingering love splintering through her. “Doesn’t matter how it ended - I’d still care if she lived through the surgery.”

Her fists clenched, nails biting her palms. She bit her cheek until she tasted copper behind her teeth. The floor blurred for a moment, but she didn’t blink.

“She didn’t die,” Reed said finally. Measured tone, like the words were made of lead. “She’s alive.”

Judy’s world tilted. She looked up slowly, heart hammering.

“But Myers didn’t keep her end of the deal. She barged into the operating room mid-surgery. Ordered the surgeons to stop after removing the Relic, to leave all of V’s cyberware intact. Maybe she believed Alex’s report, thought V would fall back in line - an obedient dog back on her leash. Or maybe it was her plan all along.”

Judy couldn’t breathe. Her fingers were twitching as if reaching for something - or someone - that wasn’t there. “And Val?”

“She saw it coming. Like she always does. She played along. Weeks of pretending to be under control, letting Myers think she’d won. Hell, even I fell for it. And then?” Reed’s smile was all teeth and bitter admiration. “First chance she got, she disappeared. Left nothing behind but chaos.”

Judy pressed a trembling hand to her chest, as if the pressure might somehow keep her heart from splintering open right there on the floor. It didn’t matter. Those four weeks of silence didn’t matter anymore. She was out there. She made it.

"Myers is spiraling," Reed continued, his voice turning cold again. "The whole FIA’s hunting her now. No leads. No tracks. Ghost protocol. Classic V."

The relief hit so hard it nearly buckled her all over again, a dam cracking open inside her chest. Valerie had made it out. Alive. But that blissful feeling lasted only a moment - barely enough to breathe before it twisted into dread again.

"And me?" she asked. Her voice barely rose above a whisper, thin and splintered. "Why are you here?"

"You were the obvious choice." His answer was blunt, brutal. It landed between them like a dropped weapon. "Myers wanted to use you as bait. Figured V might come running."

Judy swallowed hard, her stomach knotting.

"But then," he went on, gaze narrowing, "she was reminded about a certain piece of intel V threatened to release if anything happened to you. That's what we were looking for when we tore through your apartment. And… V escaped Langley with a bang. Left a trail of fire. Myers is scared she’ll burn her reputation to the ground next. With Militech circling, she’s hesitating. You became too valuable to harm.”

He paused, eyes unreadable.

“She backed off. For now.”

Judy felt her insides hollow out. Her voice cracked as she asked, “So… what does that make you?”

Reed's jaw shifted. “I’m surveillance. Nothing more—for now. If V comes near you, I have to act. But if she keeps her distance... I’m just a shadow. Watching.”

She looked away, shame tightening in her throat. “I don’t know where she is, Reed. She didn’t contact me. She never—" Her voice broke. “I don’t even know what she’s holding over Myers.”

Reed studied her with the precision of a man trained to see through lies. His gaze drilled into hers, peeling back every layer of her defenses. After what felt like an eternity, he nodded, just once. “I believe you.” His expression turned inwards, cool and assessing. “We’ve tracked some pings. Norway. Spain. South America. All of them dead ends.”

“You think she’s… gone?”

Reed’s mouth curved, not into a smile, but something sharper, crueler. “No.” His voice dropped to a near whisper. “I trained her. And she knows the darkest place to hide... is right beneath the candle’s flame.”

A silence fell, thick as oil. Judy sat motionless, numb beneath the weight of it. Of course, Valerie wouldn’t vanish. She was too fierce, too stubborn. Too hers. And she’d promised - she’d looked her in the eye and promised to come back.

“So... what now?” she asked, barely managing to form the words. “What are you gonna do with me?”

Reed stood with that fluid, soldier's grace - shoulders squared, jacket settling into place like armor. “I’m gonna keep you safe,” he said, with a twitch of his mouth that could almost be mistaken for kindness. “And I’ll keep Myers from coming down on you. For now. I didn’t think V would endanger you by contacting you or handing you anything directly... but this whole circus? Necessary. For them. You’ll be watched.”

Her fingers twitched at her sides, desperate for something to hold onto. The notion of being watched - constantly monitored, judged - felt like a collar tightening around her throat. She was just another piece on the board. Her moves decided long before. She could be moved. Sacrificed. Never asked.

Reed hesitated, his tone softening with something like pity. “But there’s no happy ending here, kid,” he said quietly. “She won’t risk putting you in the crossfire. She’s on her own. Best thing you can do... is forget her. Live your life.”

Forget her.

Judy bit the inside of her cheek hard enough to taste blood. Like that was ever an option.

Reed turned toward the door, his hand resting on the handle. But something in her - some wild, reckless piece - forced the words from her throat before he could leave.

“But why?” she asked, voice raw. “Why would you want to help me?”

He exhaled slowly. The weariness in it was almost human. His shoulders slumped, just a little, like the burden of it had finally caught up with him. When he looked back, his face was still guarded, but the hardness in his eyes had fractured. What shone through now was quieter. Older. A hurt that had outlived its usefulness but stayed anyway.

“Because I owe it to her,” he said, simply.

And then he was gone, the door clicking shut behind him, leaving Judy alone with the stillness. With the echo of his voice. With a hope so fragile it felt like it might crumble beneath the weight of her next breath.

But it didn’t.

Judy couldn’t shake the feeling of being hunted.

It clung to her like a second skin, a weight pressing down with every passing day, coiling tighter around her chest with each breath. Reed’s hollow assurances about her safety felt more like cruel taunts than comfort. He was FIA - a soldier shaped by duty, bound by orders, a weapon aimed wherever Myers deemed necessary. His words were empty shells, gutted of meaning by the sharp edge of inevitability. If his orders ever changed, if surveillance ceased to be his mission, Judy harbored no illusions about what would come next. He’d become her hunter - calm, efficient, merciless.

The dread was constant, a shadow stitched to her heels, slipping into her mind in quiet moments, whispering of eyes always watching, always waiting. No place felt safe - not her cramped apartment, not the streets she knew better than her own reflection. Even the familiar hum of her car engine on empty roads couldn’t drown out the static buzz of paranoia. Changing her apartment locks felt pointless. It wouldn’t matter. If they wanted in, they’d come, just like before. Safety was a lie she couldn’t buy into anymore.

The Dolls’ training facility had become her only refuge, home built on worn turf and sweat-soaked determination. Within those walls, surrounded by teammates oblivious to the storm swirling just beyond their reality, she found a fragile semblance of normalcy. She lost herself in the rhythm of practice - sprints, strategy meetings, shooting drills. There, muscle memory ruled, silencing the voice whispering of threats unseen, of a noose tightening around her life.

Sleep had become a distant memory, a luxury she could no longer afford. Every creak of the old building settling, every gust of wind against her apartment windows, twisted into a harbinger of danger. She snatched moments of rest wherever exhaustion finally overpowered fear - curled up on the worn couch in Regina’s office, on the hard, sweat-slick training mats after hours, or inside the hyperbaric chamber meant for recovery, its sterile quiet a poor substitute for peace. Her mind refused to still, even then, snapping her awake at the smallest sound, heart racing, every shadow a threat.

Her routine fractured, spiraling into something barely recognizable. Panic attacks came daily now, sudden and consuming, like storms breaking against fragile glass. She hid them as best she could, locking herself in bathroom stalls or deserted storage rooms, pressing trembling hands against cold metal shelves until the shaking subsided. She willed herself to hold steady, to not break. But the cracks were spreading, her carefully constructed walls crumbling under the unending strain.

After a week of this, exhaustion turned her mind sluggish, her limbs heavy with fatigue. No amount of stubbornness could keep her mask from slipping. The weight of sleepless nights and constant anxiety finally dragged her down.

That was how Rita found her - slumped on a locker room bench, head bowed, shoulders sagging under an invisible burden. Judy hadn’t meant to fall asleep - she’d only wanted to close her eyes for a second - but exhaustion had claimed her in that awkward, seated position, muscles cramped, neck stiff.

A warm, steady hand on her shoulder pulled her from the haze. She blinked up, disoriented, meeting Rita’s worried gaze. Concern etched deep lines into her friend’s face, a stark contrast to the hardened, unshakable woman Judy had always known.

“You’re sleepin’ on my couch tonight,” Rita said, her voice brooking no argument as she slipped an arm under Judy’s, guiding her to her feet. Her grip was firm but careful, offering support without smothering. “I know you won’t tell me what’s really goin’ on, and I won’t force you... but jus’ remember, I’m here. Anythin’ you need.” Her tone softened at the edges, steady but warm, like an embrace Judy hadn’t realized she was desperate for until that moment.

An hour later, Judy lay curled on Rita’s worn, overstuffed couch, its familiar rough fabric scraping against her cheek like a half-forgotten memory. The room was steeped in shadow, illuminated only by the faint, flickering glow of a streetlight filtering through half-closed blinds. The city outside pulsed with distant life, an uncaring metronome of noise and neon that never paused, never softened. She pressed her face deeper into the cushions, as if she could smother the ache clawing at her chest. Her shoulders trembled as tears came - hot, silent, and unstoppable. Crying wasn’t catharsis. It was exhaustion spilling over, the body’s last, desperate attempt to drain itself empty enough for sleep to take hold. But even as the sobs wracked her, she knew rest wouldn’t come. Not really.

She couldn’t tell Rita the truth. Not about the FIA. Not about what happened during the tournament. And certainly not about Valerie. Bringing Rita into that world - into shadows thick with lies, blood, and betrayal - would only paint a target on her back. Valerie had kept her in the dark for the same reason. Judy understood that now, though the knowledge still burned like an open wound.

But understanding didn’t ease the ache. It didn’t stop her mind from circling back to Val, to the unbearable silence stretching across endless weeks. No messages. No whispered promises that she was alive. No sign that she was still fighting to come back. The absence hollowed Judy in ways she couldn’t explain.

She knew the surgery had been a success, Valerie had survived that much. But surviving and living weren’t the same, not when the FIA was still hunting her. An army of ruthless agents tracking her every move. Judy had tried to hold onto reason, repeating to herself that Valerie’s silence was protection - for both of them. That Val hadn’t chosen this war, it had been forced upon her. That whatever mess she was tangled in wasn’t by choice.

But in the long, sleepless nights, reason twisted into resentment. Exhaustion gnawed at her edges, making the worst thoughts easier to believe. Somewhere, in the deepest, most worn-down part of her, she’d started blaming Val - for leaving, for vanishing, for making her hope when she should’ve known better. It wasn’t fair. She knew that. Valerie had never promised she’d return right away - but anger felt easier to bear than the suffocating ache of longing. And in the still, dark quiet of Rita’s living room, Judy let herself feel it all - the sorrow, the fear, the bitterness. The love she couldn’t shut off, no matter how much it hurt.

Finally, weariness dragged her into a fractured, restless sleep, brittle and cold as cracked glass.

But the rest offered no peace. A few tortured hours later, Judy woke up startled, breath hitching, her body snapping upright on the couch. Her heart pounded, a wild, desperate rhythm, the remnants of the nightmare still wrapped around her like icy chains. Valerie - broken, lifeless - her image burned into Judy’s mind with cruel precision, every detail etched with merciless clarity. No matter how many times she told herself it wasn’t real, that it was only a dream, the panic refused to let go. It clung, sharp and jagged, carving deeper with every heartbeat.

Judy squeezed her eyes shut, willing the horrifying vision away. Sleep wouldn’t return, it was a cruel, distant thing. The dim streetlight outside traced shifting patterns on the ceiling, indifferent to her unraveling. She let out a trembling sigh and reached for her phone, desperate for an anchor, for anything that felt real. Her fingers scrolled through old photos, searching, needing something to ground her in a time before everything fractured. And then - Montserrat.

Valerie’s face filled the screen, warm and vibrant, her eyes crinkling at the corners in unrestrained laughter. They were wrapped in each other, the electric thrill of new love shimmering between them like autumn sunlight. It was from a time when possibilities felt endless, when danger hadn’t yet darkened their horizon.

Judy’s fingertips trembled as they traced Valerie’s smile on the screen, the familiar curve of her lips bringing an ache she couldn’t name. She wasn’t even sure why she was crying anymore. Grief, exhaustion, longing - it all bled together until she couldn’t separate one from the other. She felt hollow, crushed beneath the weight of everything left unsaid, of everything she feared she’d never get back.

A sudden clatter fractured the fragile quiet, yanking her back to the present. Her pulse spiked, panic surging like a live wire through her veins. Judy’s head whipped toward the darkened hallway, her breath locked tight in her chest. Footsteps - measured, deliberate - echoed softly against the worn floorboards. Her muscles tensed, ready to flee - but then she saw Rita. Barefoot, half-asleep, padding toward the kitchen with a kind of weary familiarity. Relief hit Judy so hard it left her momentarily dizzy. She watched Rita fill a glass of water, taking slow, thoughtful sips before finally noticing Judy’s wide, startled eyes.

Rita didn’t ask. She simply set the empty glass on the counter, then crossed the small space to the worn armchair near the sofa. Lowering herself into the seat. She met Judy’s gaze and gently took her hand in hers. No words. No questions.

Judy exhaled shakily, still clutching her phone, the image of Valerie lingering on the screen like a half-forgotten dream. She didn’t speak either - there was nothing left to say. But for the first time in what felt like forever, she wasn’t alone. In the stillness of the night, something fragile cracked through the suffocating weight of fear - a thin, shimmering thread of comfort. Tenuous but real.

Chapter Text

Chapter XXVII | Blue
I'd like to mean it when I say I'm over you.

The sharp bite of early autumn clung to Judy’s jacket as she stepped into the familiar warmth of her favorite café. The place embraced her like an old friend, the air rich with the comforting scents of roasted coffee and freshly baked pastries, a welcome contrast to the chill she’d just left behind. She paused near the entrance, her eyes sweeping the room out of habit.

Then she saw her.

Panam sat near the tall window, the golden afternoon light spilling through the glass, painting her dark hair in warm, chestnut hues. She leaned back in her chair, one arm slung casually over the backrest. There was an easy confidence in her posture, the kind that came naturally to someone who’d faced down more than her share of challenges, both on the pitch and off it.

The moment Panam’s gaze met hers, a wide grin broke across her face, bright and unrestrained, her hand rising in a lazy wave. Judy felt something tight in her chest unwind, warmth spreading like the slow, reassuring breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. It was a rare comfort, cutting through the chaos and noise of the past few weeks. For a fleeting moment, the world felt steady again, and the ever-present, low hum of anxiety in her mind dulled, if only by a fraction.

This was what she needed - a fragment of normalcy, a keepsake of the life she once lived. Meeting up with an old friend from the national team felt like slipping into a familiar rhythm, a beat she had almost forgotten in the haze of long, exhausting practices and the weight of unspoken expectations.

She had been a bit surprised when Panam’s message came through a few days ago. It had cut through the monotony like a sharp inhale, a small but welcome reminder that the world beyond the stadium lights still existed. And despite her tightly packed schedule, Judy had made time, carving out this rare sliver of freedom in the lead-up to the new season.

The opener loomed just a week away, the countdown to their clash with the Los Angeles Angels ticking louder with each passing day. The Dolls had just returned from New York, the echoes of their last exhibition match still fresh in Judy’s mind - the crack of cleats on turf, the sting of cold rain against her skin, the roar of the crowd a distant, muffled pulse in her ears.

Tomorrow, they would face Arizona’s squad, another round of pre-season preparations. She knew many of the faces on that team, the players who had become both rivals and comrades over the years. Claire would be absent, still sidelined by a knee injury, her recovery stretching longer than expected. But Panam and Carol would be there, both set to start.

She held up a finger, silently signaling she’d grab her coffee first. Panam’s grin widened, a small tilt of her head the only reply as she leaned back further, watching her with that steady, unflinching gaze that always felt a little like a spotlight.

The line moved quickly, and Judy ordered her usual - a latte with a touch of cinnamon, the warm, spiced scent already teasing her senses. Moments later, the cup was in her hands, the heat seeping through the paper sleeve, chasing away the last of the lingering chill in her fingers.

As she approached the table, Panam rose from her chair, her long strides covering the short distance between them in a heartbeat. Before Judy could even set her cup down, she was wrapped in a fierce, grounding embrace, strong arms pulling her in, squeezing just tightly enough to chase away the last ghost of the cold outside. Judy let herself sink into it, her cheek pressing against the cool leather of Panam’s jacket.

“Missed your ass,” Panam murmured, her voice low, a hint of gravel to it, the warmth of her breath brushing against Judy’s ear before she finally loosened her grip and stepped back.

Judy managed a small, fond shake of her head, her lips curling into a genuine smile. “It’s been, what, a month and a half?”

Fifty-two days. She knew because she’d counted. Fifty-two days since she last saw Valerie. Since she held her. Since she kissed her. Fifty-two days of radio silence, stretching like an empty road into the distance.

Panam shrugged, her dark eyes glinting with unrepentant mischief. “Still counts.”

They settled into the small table by the window, sunlight filtering through the glass and casting their shadows long across the floor. Judy cradled her latte in her hands, letting the warmth seep into her palms, grounding her further. She watched as Panam leaned back, one boot propped casually against the leg of the table, her hands loose and relaxed in her lap - the picture of someone at ease, though Judy caught the faint tension in her jaw.

“I was a little surprised you wanted to meet before the match,” Judy admitted, blowing lightly on the steaming surface of her drink. “Figured we’d just catch up after, like usual.”

For a brief moment, something flickered in Panam’s expression - a shadow of hesitation, a crack in the confident armor she usually wore so effortlessly. But then it was gone, smoothed over with a small, crooked smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “I couldn’t wait,” she said, her voice light but sincere, the words carrying a weight that made Judy’s pulse skip. “Wanted to hear what’s been going on with you... as soon as I could.”

Judy’s brow furrowed slightly, the unspoken tension between them settling into the space like an unwelcome guest. But she let it go, choosing instead to lean into the warmth of Panam’s presence, the steady, familiar energy that felt like solid ground beneath her feet - a small piece of stability in an otherwise chaotic world.

“Okay,” Judy said, letting herself relax back into her chair, her fingers tapping idly against the side of her cup. “Hope you’re ready for a lot of boring training stories and my never-ending quest for the perfect espresso machine.”

Panam chuckled, the sound low and genuine, the lines around her eyes softening. For a moment, the weight of unspoken things lifted, leaving only the comfort of old friendship, the kind built on years of shared victories, hard-won battles, and unspoken understandings.

“I wouldn’t miss it,” Panam replied, her gaze steady, a small, knowing smile touching her lips as she reached for her own cup.

Panam leaned back in her chair, her sharp eyes catching the late afternoon sun as it streamed through the dusty windows. She had a way of holding space, of drawing attention without effort, and Judy found herself leaning in as the midfielder recounted her latest escapade - a whirlwind one-night stand with some famous model whose name she stubbornly kept secret.

"Wait—you're serious?" Judy laughed, nearly spilling the last of her latte as she leaned closer, her elbows on the table. “You’re really not gonna tell me who?”

Panam’s grin widened, a flash of mischief in her eyes as she crossed her arms over her chest. “Where’s the fun in that?”

Judy shook her head, rolling her eyes but unable to suppress the smile that tugged at her lips. Panam’s stories always had a way of pulling her out of her own head, of distracting her from the worries she tried so hard to bury. For a few stolen minutes, she could forget about the sleepless nights, the missing piece and the quiet ache in her chest that never quite left.

But as the conversation ebbed, Judy noticed the shift. Panam glanced at the time, her fingers drumming a restless rhythm against the edge of the table, her gaze flicking briefly toward the window before settling back on Judy. There was a new tension there, a flicker of something unsaid.

“You wanna walk me back to my hotel?” Panam asked, her tone light, almost too casual, like a note struck slightly off-key.

Judy hesitated, her thumb brushing the edge of her phone. She’d promised Rita she’d hit the training facility early, the familiar grind her only real anchor these days. “I probably should—”

Before she could finish, Panam reached across the table, her fingers curling around Judy’s with a sudden, quiet urgency. Her grip was warm, grounding, and when Judy met her eyes, she found none of the usual teasing there - only a raw, unspoken plea.

“Please.”

The single word twisted something deep in Judy’s chest, set her pulse thrumming with a mix of unease and curiosity. It was unlike Panam to ask for anything, to drop the confident swagger and show her cards so plainly. That alone was enough to make Judy nod, her heart pounding with the sudden, unshakable certainty that something was about to change.

They stepped into the cool evening, the city’s pulse beating around them - traffic, distant chatter, the hum of neon signs flickering to life as the sun sank behind the towering skyline. Panam led the way, her strides long and purposeful, her head held high as she cut a path through the thinning crowds. She launched into a story about a malfunctioning hover-bike and a narrowly avoided traffic ticket, her voice animated but her eyes scanning their surroundings in a way that made Judy’s nerves tighten.

The realization hit when Panam suddenly veered into a narrow alley, her grip on Judy’s wrist tightening - not forceful, but insistent. Without a word, she pressed them both into the shadows, her breath even, her gaze locked on the street behind them. Footsteps echoed - measured, deliberate. Several pairs. Nothing out of the ordinary at first. But then, as Judy peered around the corner, she saw her - a tall, sharp-featured woman in a dark coat, moving with the kind of calculated grace Judy recognized all too well.

Maddie.

Her heart stuttered in her chest, the blood rushing in her ears as she watched the woman pass the mouth of the alley, her expression unreadable, her eyes fixed ahead as though guided by some unseen string. She didn’t glance back, just kept walking.

When the footsteps faded into the hum of the street, Judy turned to Panam, her voice a harsh whisper. “What the hell?”

Panam’s jaw tightened. “We need to talk,” her voice was low, urgent, her eyes sharp and unblinking. “And we don’t have much time before she figures it out.”

Judy’s heart kicked against her ribs. “How did you—”

“She was watching us,” Panam cut her off, her grip on Judy’s wrist tightening. “From the bus stop. The whole time we were at the café.”

“But—”

“It doesn’t matter. You have to listen to me. It’s about Valerie.”

For a moment, the world around her fell away. She blinked, her mind struggling to process what Panam just said. The words hit her like a shockwave, sending a cold rush through her veins.

Valerie.

Her name felt like a wound reopening, a ghost called back from the shadows of memory, where Judy had tried so hard to bury it. She had spent weeks convincing herself that it was over, that Valerie was gone - a chapter closed, a path lost in the endless sprawl of this world’s madness. She had almost believed it, too. The silence had been deafening, a void that she had forced herself to fill with routine. But hearing her name now, falling from Panam’s lips, ignited something she thought she had hidden - something she hadn’t realized was still burning, just waiting for a spark.

She had tried so hard to move on, to piece together a semblance of normalcy. With Rita’s steady support and her ever-watchful presence, Judy had worked to reclaim a sense of herself, to rebuild the routine that had once felt so familiar. But that was all a lie. A façade. And now, standing before Panam, Judy felt that lie crumble. Valerie’s shadow was still with her, tugging at her, drawing her back. She had never really let go, not in any real way. She loved her too much.

Judy turned slowly to face the dark-haired woman, her pulse thundering in her ears, her fingers numb.

“How—?” The word escaped her lips, thin and fractured, barely more than a whisper.

Panam’s gaze held her, fierce and unrelenting, a storm barely contained. “She contacted me after the tournament,” she said, her voice rough, tinged with bitterness. “Didn’t have much to say. Just that it was urgent. That she didn’t have many people left she could trust.”

The words hit like a punch to the gut. Trust. Judy’s mind raced, scrambling to grasp the edges of the situation, to piece together a puzzle she hadn’t even known existed. Valerie, reaching out to Panam, of all people. The idea felt absurd, unreal, like a bad dream she couldn’t wake up from.

“Honestly, I almost hung up on her right then,” Panam continued. “I remembered everything... everything that happened. All the shit she put you through. And I knew she was trouble. Always was. But she kept talking, said it wasn’t as simple as I thought. That you were caught in the middle. That she was trying to keep you safe.”

Judy felt her legs weaken, a tremor running through her. Her mind reeled, grasping at the pieces of Panam’s words, trying to fit them into the twisted narrative that had become her life. She wanted to scream, to demand answers, but she couldn’t find the strength to open her mouth. 

Panam’s eyes flicked away for a moment, her fingers tracing the long, jagged scar on her forearm, a habit Judy recognized as the sign of holding something back. “She asked me to get in touch with my old clan,” Panam said finally, her tone quieter, almost regretful. “Arrange safe passage for her from Richmond. I knew it was a bad idea, red flags everywhere, but I couldn’t turn her down. Not when you were involved. So, I told her, straight up—this is for you, not for her.”

Judy’s heart twisted, a sudden, sharp pain that stole her breath. She clung to the thought, the tiny, fragile hope that maybe, just maybe, Valerie hadn’t given up on her.

“Mitch,” the midfielder continued, her voice gaining strength, her gaze hardening again. “He’s the best smuggler I know. Met her at the extraction point. It wasn’t easy. Long drive, dodging patrols, military drones. Got her to Albuquerque. She was supposed to meet some Militech contacts out there. And then... she vanished. Gone. Like a ghost.”

The silence that followed felt like a physical thing, pressing down on Judy’s chest, making it hard to breathe. She forced herself to meet her friend’s eyes, the question burning on her tongue. “Is Val—is she okay?”

Panam hesitated, the hard lines of her face softening for just a moment, a flicker of something like regret passing through her eyes. “So, it’s true. You’re in the middle of it all.” There was a quiet exhale, as though Panam was tired, tired of the weight of it all. “Alvy, I fuckin’ told you—”

“Pan, please,” Judy interrupted, her voice shaking. “We don’t have time for this. Just… tell me if she’s alright.”

“She’s a fucking NUSA spy, went rogue, got her cybernetics deactivated, pissed off some dangerous people. But she’s a cockroach, Judy. Always was. So yeah, she’s fucking alive. Bruised, scarred, a few new bullet holes, but breathing.”

A shaky breath escaped Judy, a mixture of relief and fresh panic coiling in her gut. Alive. Valerie was still there.

“When was it?”

“Two weeks ago. They parted ways outside Albuquerque. Mitch said she looked... rough. Like she’d been through hell. What did you get yourself into, Alvy?”

Judy chuckled, but it was dry, humorless. “You said it yourself—love makes people do stupid things.”

“There’s something else,” Panam said after another pause, her tone dropping, her eyes locking onto Judy’s with a fierce intensity. “She left something for you.”

Judy’s heart skipped a beat, her breath catching in her throat. “What?”

Panam’s lips pressed into a thin line, her eyes dark with something close to disappointment. “She gave Mitch an envelope. For you. Said she was sorry. I’m assuming there is a note, a letter in it. I don’t have it right now, it’s back at my room. But Alvy—fuck—I think you shouldn’t read it. I think you should stop chasing after her, stop chasing whatever nightmare she’s in.”

Judy felt the ground sway beneath her, the world narrowing to the space between them. An envelope. A message from Valerie. Proof that she still cared, that she hadn’t just vanished without a word.

“Do you know what’s in the note?”

Panam took a step back, her expression guarded. “No. Meet me after the match. Away lockers. I’ll give it to you then.”

The pre-dawn light bled through the half-open blinds, painting the cluttered bedroom in pale, ghostly grays. It crept across the white walls, casting faint, crooked shadows that danced with each passing car on the street below. Judy lay on her back, eyes unfocused as they traced the familiar cracks in the ceiling, her breaths shallow but steady, each inhale a quiet protest against the restlessness that twisted in her chest.

Beside her, Rita’s breathing was a steady, rhythmic presence - a soft rise and fall that should have been comforting, a living reminder that she wasn’t alone. Judy’s gaze drifted sideways, catching the faint sheen of violet hair spilling across the pillow, the small furrow in Rita’s brow even in sleep, as if she could sense the storm brewing beside her.

Judy sighed softly, the sound barely more than a whisper in the dim room. She shifted with practiced care, rolling onto her side, her movements slow to avoid disturbing the warmth beside her. Rita murmured something unintelligible, her lips parting in a half-formed word, but didn’t wake, her body instinctively curling closer, seeking Judy’s absent heat.

For a heartbeat, Judy just watched her, a tight ache coiling in her chest. She felt a pang of something painfully close to gratitude - the kind that cut deeper than a blade. Rita had opened her door without hesitation, given her a place to stay, to breathe, to try and forget. No questions, no demands, just the quiet offer of a safe harbor, however fleeting. It was more than most had ever offered her, more than she deserved.

But even the steady comfort of Rita’s presence couldn’t silence the shadows whispering in her mind, the nagging pulse of unfinished business thrumming beneath her skin.

The note.

The damn note, still waiting for her like a silent ghost, taunting her from the other side of the city. Whatever it held, whatever secrets it threatened to reveal, it would have to wait until after the exhibition match. The uncertainty gnawed at her, a constant, maddening itch just beneath the surface.

Judy slid carefully out of bed, her bare feet touching the cool, cracked wood with a soft hiss of breath. She straightened slowly, casting one last glance at Rita’s sleeping form before reaching for the worn duffel bag she’d dropped by the door the night before. She slung it over her shoulder, and slipped out into the narrow, dimly lit hallway. Her own apartment waited just a few steps away, the door still locked, the air inside stale and untouched, like a forgotten tomb. She keyed in, the lock clicking with a soft, mechanical finality as she stepped inside. The old refrigerator hummed softly in the corner, its faint, steady vibration the only sign of life in the otherwise silent space.

Judy moved through the familiar shadows, her fingers finding the light switch with the ease of muscle memory. The harsh white glow of the bathroom light buzzed to life, casting her reflection in stark, unforgiving detail. She stripped quickly, her clothes a crumpled heap on the cool tile floor and stepped into the shower. The scalding water hit her skin with a force that bordered on painful, but she welcomed it, letting it burn away the lingering chill of the night.

She stayed there longer than she needed to, head tipped back, water streaming down her face, her eyes closed against the too-bright glare of the bathroom light. It was a fragile, temporary armor, the heat wrapping around her like a shield, holding the world at bay for just a moment longer.

When she finally stepped out, the mirror was fogged, her reflection nothing more than a ghostly outline. She caught a glimpse of her own eyes - dark, ringed with sleeplessness, sharp with the kind of edge that only came from too many nights spent staring at cracked ceilings and fighting off unwanted memories.

She dressed in loose sweats and an old tank top, the fabric soft against her still-warm skin, and padded back into the living room. She dropped onto the battered couch, its worn springs creaking softly beneath her, and reached for the remote. The TV crackled to life, flooding the room with harsh, artificial blue light.

Channel after channel blurred past - late-night talk shows with their forced, fake laughter, reruns of sitcoms she barely remembered, infomercials promising a better life in three easy payments. She kept flipping, the remote heavy in her hand, her mind refusing to settle. She just needed something, anything, to drown out the restless thrum of her thoughts, to chase away the echoes of the past clinging to her like a second skin. Her thumb hesitated over the button, a heartbeat away from shutting the whole damn thing off, when the image on the screen caught her attention - the sterile backdrop of a press room, the stark, too-bright lighting casting everything in harsh, unflattering shadows.

The anchor’s voice cut through the static in her mind, sharp and urgent, each clipped syllable pulling her back into the present.

Something had happened. Something big.

“...leaked documents reveal shocking details about a covert government project involving the forced augmentation of civilians into cybernetically enhanced soldiers. For years, rumors of such experiments have swirled, whispered in the shadows of back-alley net forums and conspiracy threads, but tonight, new evidence confirms the unthinkable - these modifications were performed without consent. Many of the victims were minors at the time of their recruitment. The program was spearheaded by Michael Kress, senior advisor to President Myers and son of former President Elizabeth Kress. While Kress oversaw daily operations, it’s alleged that President Myers herself gave her direct approval for the project’s continuation.”

Judy’s stomach twisted, a sharp, visceral reaction that left a bitter, metallic taste at the back of her throat. The screen flickered, cutting to a grim collage of black-and-white photographs and surgical schematics - disturbingly clinical, frozen moments carved from someone’s nightmare. There were technical drawings of cybernetic limbs overlaid with dense, heartless medical jargon, interspersed with grainy, haunting images of the soldiers themselves.

Machines wrapped in the fragile remnants of humanity. Twisted, brutal masterpieces of war-forged engineering. But it wasn’t the sight of metal fused to flesh that made Judy’s chest tighten and her breath come short. No, she saw it before. Rooted in a person she loved. No, it was what those cold, unfeeling diagrams meant. The implications struck her harder than a blade to the gut.

“And there’s more,” the anchor pressed, her voice sharp, slicing through the suffocating silence of Judy’s apartment. “Evidence indicates that these augmented units were deployed under the guise of humanitarian missions in the Middle East. Official reports claimed peacekeeping efforts, but leaked footage tells a much darker story. These missions were covert assaults meant to seize critical resources, leaving no survivors to tell the tale. What the military framed as rescue operations were, in truth, systematic massacres.”

The screen flickered again, this time to grainy, shaking footage of smoldering villages reduced to ash. The ground lay scorched, littered with bodies, the smoke still curling into the air like the last breath of the dead. Judy’s pulse pounded in her ears. She felt trapped, frozen, every muscle locked tight as if her own skeleton had turned to metal, unyielding, unwilling to let her turn away.

She could barely hear her own breathing over the anchor’s relentless narration, the words bleeding into the background, a dull, static hum of grim reports and spiraling accusations. The camera cut to President Myers, standing rigidly behind the White House podium, her posture a masterclass in authority and control. Every line of her body radiated power, her hands gripping the podium’s edges as though anchoring herself against the rising tide of scandal.

“The details of this project and my role in it have been grossly misrepresented,” Myers declared, her voice a polished weapon - smooth, commanding, dripping with rehearsed sincerity. “I am committed to upholding the safety and security of this country, but not at the cost suggested by this so-called evidence. This is simply not true. I will not let baseless accusations undermine my work.”

Her gaze swept the room, cold and calculating, as if daring anyone to challenge her. Judy could see it in her eyes, the unspoken threat, the steely resolve to crush whatever force had dared expose her secrets.

Judy barely registered the next words that came out of Myers’ mouth. She wasn’t listening anymore. She was spiraling, her mind racing down dark, jagged paths she had never wanted to tread. Her pulse thudded against her temples, a staccato beat that seemed to count down to some inevitable, horrifying conclusion.

Valerie.

The thought crashed into her like a train derailing. She clenched her fists, nails biting into her palms, grounding herself in the sharp sting of reality. She’d always known Valerie carried ghosts too weighty to share, secrets too dangerous to speak aloud, horrors carved deep into muscle and memory. Judy had seen the scars, felt the tension in her lover’s body, heard the quiet, haunted murmurs in the dead of night when Val thought she was still asleep.

Could Valerie have been part of this mission?

Her chest tightened, her breath coming in shallow, uneven bursts. She tried to push the thought away, to bury it beneath layers of stubborn denial, but it clawed its way back to the surface, relentless, insistent. Valerie - her lover, her anchor, her greatest unknown. A woman shaped by fire and forged in shadows, her past a labyrinth of secrets too dark and twisted to ever fully unravel. Had she been one of those soldiers - the ghosts sent to do the unspeakable, forced into mission that left nothing but scorched earth and nameless graves in their wake?

Judy had never pushed for the full truth. She knew better. Survival meant living with half-told stories, accepting the unspoken as fact. But now, staring at the unfolding catastrophe on the screen, she couldn’t escape the gnawing certainty - Valerie must have been involved somehow.

And then, a darker thought struck her.

Had Valerie been the one behind the leak itself?

The timing was too perfect, the execution too precise. This wasn’t some careless breach or random hack - it was a precision strike, aimed directly at President Myers. A deliberate blow meant to shatter, to expose, to devastate. Coincidences didn’t exist in a world like theirs. Every act, every silence, every betrayal was deliberate, calculated - a game of moves and countermoves on a chessboard stained with blood, played by those ruthless enough to survive.

Was that what Val had been holding over the President all along?

Judy’s mind raced, connecting dots that had once felt too distant, too fragmented to form a picture. She bent forward, elbows resting on her knees, fingers laced together in a tight, trembling grip. She needed to believe there was meaning behind this, that Valerie’s hand was in it not out of vengeance, but purpose.

She needed to trust her. Trust that whatever battle Valerie was waging, Judy wasn’t just collateral damage left behind.

Her gaze flicked back to the screen, where the President’s facade held steady against the onslaught of questions and accusations. The world was watching now, judging, while Myers fought to contain the fallout, to hold her empire together with sheer force of will.

But all Judy could see was Valerie.

Did she still have a plan? A purpose? Means to come back? Or had too much time passed, their bond lost in the chaos of impossible choices? Had Valerie already made peace with sacrificing everything - even Judy - to take down the woman she hated most? Was she still fighting for them, protecting her, or had she abandoned everything, trading their future for a war Judy could barely begin to comprehend?

Had Valerie given up on them?

The final whistle cut through the frigid air like a gunshot, its echo swallowed by the breathless hush of the stadium. Zero-zero. A scoreless draw, the kind that left a bitter taste, a hollow ache. Normally, a game like this would’ve set her teeth on edge, her mind replaying every missed pass, every poorly timed run, every moment where the ball seemed to slip just out of reach. But tonight, the game had barely registered, her body moving on autopilot, the plays blurring into a haze of cold air and shouts.

Her mind wasn’t here. It wasn’t tangled up in the rhythm of cleats on the turf or the sharp cries of her teammates. It was elsewhere, pulled like a thread toward the note that haunted her thoughts. Valerie’s note. The one Panam held, the one that felt like a grenade with the pin half-pulled, its impact uncertain but unavoidable.

As the final echoes of the whistle faded, both teams trudged off the field, boots crunching against the hardened ground, their breaths rising in shaky clouds that mingled with the fog settling over the stadium. Judy could feel the cold seeping into her bones, the chill finding every exposed patch of skin, but it was nothing compared to the tightness coiling in her chest, the pressure that made her breaths come shallow and uneven.

Rita’s sharp gaze found her as they approached the tunnel. She felt the weight of that stare like a physical thing, cutting through her defenses with the precision of a blade. Judy ducked her head, biting the inside of her cheek to keep from saying something she couldn’t take back. Not now, when the need for answers burned hotter than the ache in her legs.

As the others peeled off toward the locker room, already shoving each other with tired grins or muttering about missed calls, Judy veered sharply to the right, entering corridor that led to the visitors’ area. She felt Rita’s eyes on her back, a silent demand for explanation, but she kept moving, her pulse thrumming louder in her ears with every step.

The harsh, sterile light of the hallway flickered as she neared the visiting team’s locker room, the buzz of old fluorescent tubes a faint, oppressive hum that only added to her fraying nerves. The voices inside grew clearer as she approached, the low rumble of coaches and the occasional burst of laughter from players still riding the adrenaline high.

Just as she rounded the corner, she caught sight of Regina mid-conversation with Dakota Smith, the Arizona team’s manager. The two women looked up as she approached, their conversation cutting off abruptly, and for a heartbeat, Judy felt the sudden, awkward weight of their attention.

“Wanna change teams, Alvy?” Dakota’s voice carried a teasing lilt, her grin a sharp flash in the harsh light, eyes narrowing with something close to genuine curiosity.

Judy managed a lopsided grin, the kind that felt more like a grimace. “Never, Reggie would kill me,” she said, her voice strained but steady enough. “Just wanted to say hi to some friends.”

“You’re breaking my heart,” Dakota replied, clutching at her chest in mock despair, her expression softening as her eyes flicked over Judy’s tense frame. “But hey, if you ever want out of this place, our doors are always open.”

“I’m standing right here,” Regina deadpanned, folding her arms across her chest, her tone carrying that familiar mix of dry humor and unspoken warning.

Judy forced another tight smile, the kind that pulled at her muscles in a way that felt unnatural, her heart hammering as she edged past them, their gazes following her until she slipped through the door. The air was heavier here, thick with the mingled scents of sweat, damp gear, and adrenaline, clinging to the tile walls. It hit her like a wave, stirring the coil of tension already wound tight in her chest.

She paused, her fingers curling into fists at her sides, nails biting into the calloused flesh of her palms. She felt the tremor in her limbs, the way her pulse thundered beneath her skin, every nerve raw, exposed. For a brief, panicked second, she considered turning back, slipping out before the weight of it all splintered her resolve. But the need for answers had become something tangible, an ache that pulsed beneath her ribs, driving her forward.

Whatever truth Valerie had left behind, she would face it. Even if it tore her apart.

Panam was there, just as she knew she would be. The dark-haired midfielder stood near the far bench, her back to the door, her stance loose but alert, a quiet intensity in the way she shifted her weight. Judy could see the flicker of tension in the set of Panam’s shoulders, the way her fingers tightened briefly around the strap of her half-unzipped gear bag. She knew Judy was there, even without looking.

Judy forced a breath into her lungs, the sharp sting of it cutting through the haze of her spiraling thoughts. She pasted on a smirk, slipping into the familiar rhythm of banter, a shield against the rising tide of anxiety.

“Alvy,” Panam called out, her voice cutting through the low hum of voices around them. She glanced over her shoulder, a grin already spreading across her lips, practiced and sharp. “Well, I’ll be damned. Done with the Dolls already? Looking to jump ship?”

Judy snorted, her mouth quirking in a crooked smile, the expression feeling brittle, fragile. “Some of us don’t quit so easily, Pan.”

The laugh that followed was warm, disarming, and entirely intentional. Panam stepped forward, closing the distance between them in two long strides, her arms wrapping around Judy in a quick, firm hug. Her voice dropped to a murmur, close to Judy’s ear, the words a quiet warning meant for her alone. “We need an excuse to get out of here. Somewhere quieter.”

Judy’s mind raced, her gaze flicking over Panam’s face, reading the urgency in her dark eyes. She straightened, her lips parting in a quick, instinctive comeback. “You’ve got blood on your chin,” she said, her tone sharp, louder than necessary. “Come on, you need to clean that up.”

Panam’s fingers brushed her face reflexively, her frown exaggerated for the benefit of those still lingering nearby. “Guess you guys weren’t playing as clean as you should’ve been,” she shot back, falling into step beside Judy as they made their way toward the small bathroom, their exit as casual as they could make it.

Once inside, Panam twisted the lock with a quick flick of her wrist, the metallic click echoing sharply off the sterile walls. She leaned back against the sink and watched Judy. For a moment, neither of them spoke, the quiet broken only by the buzz of the overhead light, the sound grating against Judy’s already frayed nerves.

Panam reached behind her waistband, her fingers curling around something small. She drew it out, holding the thin, battered envelope between her fingers, her thumb tracing the fraying edge as she stared down at it. The sight of it, the way Panam’s grip tightened around the fragile paper, made something twist painfully in Judy’s chest. The air in the cramped space felt too thick, pressing against her lungs until every breath was a struggle.

“I still think you’re making a mistake,” Panam said at last, her voice low but unflinching, each word a blunt, deliberate blow. Her eyes stayed fixed on the envelope. “You should let this go, Judy. Walk away. Live your life instead of chasing after someone who’s up to her neck in shit.”

The words cut deeper than they should have, slicing through the fragile threads of Judy’s composure. Her arms wrapped around herself, her nails digging into the bare skin of her forearms, the sharp bite of pain a poor substitute for the rage and fear boiling beneath her skin. She felt the familiar burn of tears at the corners of her eyes, a shameful, betraying heat, and bit the inside of her cheek hard enough to taste copper. The pain kept grounding her, holding her together for just a moment longer.

She wanted to argue, to explain why she couldn’t forget about it - why she had to keep going - but her throat closed up, the words suffocating before they reached the surface.

Panam’s gaze lifted then, her dark eyes meeting Judy’s, the flicker of regret in them barely masked. “I don’t want to see you get pulled under, Jude,” she continued, her tone softening, the edge of it blunted by something dangerously close to concern. “This isn’t just a mess. It’s a black fucking hole. You can’t fix it. You can’t fix her.”

The silence that followed stretched, taut as a tripwire, the air between them crackling with unspoken fears, unvoiced regrets. Judy stepped closer, her pulse a frantic staccato in her ears, her hand trembling as she extended it, palm up, a silent plea she couldn’t bring herself to voice.

For a moment, Panam hesitated, her jaw tightening, her lips pressing into a thin line as her grip on the envelope tightened. Judy felt the doubt coil in her gut, cold and insidious, but then Panam exhaled slowly, her shoulders dropping as she reached out and pressed the envelope into Judy’s waiting palm.

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” she murmured.

Judy’s fingers tightened around the envelope, the thin paper crumpling under her grip, her knuckles whitening with the pressure. She feared it might slip away if she didn’t hold it with everything she had, feared that whatever truth it held might unravel her completely. Her heart pounded against her ribs, a frantic, uneven rhythm that echoed the storm building within her, a fear she couldn’t name but felt down to her bones.

Whatever truth lay within that envelope, it waited for her with the weight of inevitability, heavy with the promise to break her. Yet, even as her hands trembled, as her breath came in shallow, uneven bursts, she couldn’t let it go.

Judy sank down onto the cold, chipped tile of the bathroom floor, her back pressing against the wall, the chill seeping into her bones as if the ceramic itself sought to sap the warmth from her. The envelope in her grasp trembled, as her knees drew up to her chest, forming a fragile, instinctual barrier against the world, a physical shield against the blow she felt coming.

Panam lingered near the sink, arms crossed, her face a careful mask of neutrality, but her eyes betrayed a quiet, watchful concern. She said nothing, sensing that whatever was about to unfold was something Judy needed to confront alone.

Judy barely registered her presence. The envelope demanded all her attention, its thin, crinkling paper feeling heavier than steel in her hands. She hesitated, her fingers hovering over the seal, her heart a wild, erratic drumbeat that drowned out everything else. The temptation to hurl it away, to burn it, to pretend it never existed, flared briefly within her - a desperate, hopeless urge to escape the inevitable. But she knew she couldn’t. She had to know.

With a shuddering breath, she tore it open, the rip of paper like a gunshot in the cramped, echoing space. She tipped the envelope, its contents spilling onto the floor. Two objects clattered out - a folded piece of paper, thin and creased from countless unfoldings, and a small metallic coin that landed with a delicate clink, the sound ringing far louder than it should have in the oppressive silence.

The coin caught her eye first. It lay there, gleaming under the stark bathroom light, its surface throwing back fractured reflections onto the tile. She hesitated before reaching for it, her hand trembling as she plucked it from the floor, the metal cool and unnervingly familiar against her skin. Her thumb traced the raised, austere face of President Myers on one side, the NUSA emblem on the other - a piece of metal as cold and unyielding as the bureaucracy it represented.

Memories rushed in, unbidden, sharp and stinging. Valerie, her voice tinged with dry amusement as she flipped the coin between her fingers one night.

“Got this before my first mission with the FIA. A little keepsake. A reminder of who’s really calling the shots.”

Judy’s breath hitched. She turned the coin over in her palm, her fingers brushing the grooves of the engraving, feeling the weight of history, betrayal, and lost time pressing into her skin. It was more than a keepsake. It was a tether - a reminder of the woman she had loved, of the choices that had torn them apart, and the impossible distance that now stretched between them. It was a cruel echo of Valerie’s presence, fierce and distant, and the ache it stirred in her chest was almost unbearable.

Her gaze drifted to the note, the second item that had spilled from the envelope. Judy unfolded it slowly, her hands shaking, her pulse hammering in her ears. The handwriting was messy, the strokes uneven, as if scrawled in haste or desperation, the ink blotched in places where the pen had pressed too hard.

Something to remember me by.

The words cut through her, sharp and unrelenting, slicing through the fragile defenses she had thrown up around her heart. She felt the breath leave her lungs, her entire body tightening as if bracing for a physical blow. The note wasn’t just a message - it was a farewell, a final whisper from someone already slipping into the shadows.

A broken promise.

Judy’s vision blurred, the stark bathroom walls seeming to close in around her. She clutched the coin and the note to her chest, her head bowing forward, hair falling to hide the tears that streamed down her cheeks, hot and silent. She curled in on herself, her knees pressing harder against her chest, as if she could fold herself small enough to escape the truth in her hands. Her body began to rock, the soft, broken sounds of her grief filling the empty space, the coin’s cold edge pressing into her palm - a sharp, unrelenting reminder of everything she had lost.

Valerie was gone.

Judy sat behind the wheel of her van, motionless, though the engine had long since gone silent, the hum of machinery replaced by the hollow, oppressive quiet of the underground garage. Her fingers gripped the steering wheel with a force that turned her knuckles bone-white, the faint impression of her fingertips pressed into the worn leather, a desperate attempt to anchor herself to something, anything, in the face of the storm raging within her.

She stared ahead, unseeing, her vision blurred not by fresh tears but by the hollow ache left in their wake. The world outside the van’s metal shell felt distant, unreal, like the muted echoes of a nightmare from which she could never fully awaken. The air around her was stale, thick with the scent of exhaust and cold metal, clinging to her like the grief she couldn’t shake.

Her pocket felt heavier than it should, the cool weight of the coin within it a cruel reminder, its edges sharp against her fingers, pressing deeper each time she tightened her grasp. It was an anchor, pulling her further into the abyss with every shallow breath she managed to draw. She felt as though the walls were closing in, the concrete and steel crushing her in a slow, relentless squeeze.

Then, suddenly, the silence shattered.

A scream tore from her throat, raw and guttural, the sound a jagged thing that scraped its way out of her lungs, ripping through the stillness like a missile. It echoed off the concrete walls, bouncing back at her, the sound of her own pain thrown into her face with a cruelty that made her stomach twist. But she couldn’t stop. She screamed again and again, louder and louder, the force of it vibrating through her clenched jaw, her entire body trembling as if her grief could shake the foundations of the world around her.

It felt like trying to bleed a wound that would never heal - futile, hollow, and yet all she had left.

When her voice finally gave out, leaving her throat raw and aching, Judy slumped forward, her forehead pressing against the steering wheel. Her breaths came in shallow, ragged bursts, the sharp intake of air a painful reminder of life in a world that felt suddenly, achingly empty. She was shaking in the aftermath of the release that hadn’t truly released anything at all.

She squeezed her eyes shut, the echoes of her own screams still ringing in her ears, mingling with the ghost of Panam’s steady voice, the only thing that had kept her from shattering completely on that bathroom floor. She could still feel the warmth of Panam’s arms, solid and grounding, as she had knelt beside her, pulling Judy into a fierce embrace when everything inside her had felt like it was splintering apart.

Panam hadn’t spoken at first, just held her as the note and the coin trembled in Judy’s shaking hands, her breaths coming in panicked gasps. And when she did speak, her voice had been low, firm, a quiet command wrapped in understanding.

“Throw it out,” Panam had said. “Don’t let it keep hurting you.”

Judy had only shaken her head, her fingers tightening around the coin as though it was the last solid thing in a world unraveling around her. “Not this,” she had whispered, her voice a fractured thing, the words scraped raw from the depths of her chest.

The coin was hers to bear. But the note - that, she had surrendered. Together, they had torn it to shreds, Panam’s hands steady where Judy’s had shaken uncontrollably, the sound of ripping paper cutting through the air, each tear a fresh wound, each piece of paper a fragment of a future that would never come to pass.

When it was done, the shredded remains had fallen like scattered petals around them, confetti of pain and regret. There had been no catharsis in it, no relief, just the sharp, bitter taste of a goodbye she hadn’t been ready for.

Carol had knocked then, her voice muffled through the bathroom door, the outside world intruding once more. “We need to head out, Pan.”

Panam had given her one last, lingering embrace, her breath warm against Judy’s ear as she whispered a soft, broken goodbye before rising to leave, her steps echoing down the hall, a reminder that life, cruelly, went on.

Judy had sat in the aftermath for what felt like hours, the pieces of the note still scattered around her like the remnants of her crushed heart. When she had finally forced herself to move, it had felt mechanical, like a marionette pulled by invisible strings, each step dragging her further from the stadium, the only place that still felt real.

Now, in the suffocating silence of the van, her fingers finally loosened their death grip on the steering wheel. One hand drifted to her pocket, brushing against the cool, unyielding edges of the coin, the one piece of Valerie she couldn’t bring herself to let go. She closed her eyes, letting her head fall back against the headrest. She forced herself to take another breath, then another, each one a small, unwilling surrender to the world that had carried on without Valerie in it.

When she finally stepped out of the van, the cool night air hit her like a blow. She hitched her duffel bag higher on her shoulder as she moved toward the narrow staircase. She hadn’t even reached the first landing when she noticed the figure perched halfway up the stairs, leaning against the rusted railing with a practiced ease. The weak, sputtering light of the hallway above cast jagged shadows across the woman’s face, catching on the sharp line of her jaw, the glint of her eyes.

Maddie.

The brunette was playing with a butterfly knife in a lazy, practiced fashion, the blade flashing silver as it danced between her fingers. She flicked it open and shut with a quiet, metallic clink, the sound slicing through the stale air like the whisper of a threat. When her eyes locked on Judy, her mouth curved into that familiar, vicious grin - the kind that set Judy’s teeth on edge.

“There you are,” Maddie drawled, her voice dripping with mockery, each word drawn out as if savoring the chance to needle her. “What took you so long? We’ve been waiting forever.”

Judy’s steps slowed, her spine straightening instinctively. She felt the tension coil in her muscles, a familiar, bitter mix of irritation and unease tightening in her chest. Her fingers flexed around the strap of her bag, her pulse quickening despite herself.

“Fuck off,” she muttered, brushing past the woman, her shoulder catching the edge of the railing with a dull scrape. She forced her feet to keep moving, each step a conscious act of defiance.

Maddie’s sharp snort followed her. “Got the message too, huh?” she called after her, her tone light but laced with that same needling edge. “Reed’s upstairs. Said he wanted to give you a heads-up this time.” She paused, the grin audible in her voice. “I told him it was a dumb move. You’d just bolt.” Her words twisted, sharpened, taking on a predatory gleam. “So… you gonna run, Judy?”

The taunt hit like a slap, the words cutting deeper than they should have. Judy hesitated for just a moment, her heart thudding against her ribs like a trapped thing. She felt the coin in her pocket, its cool, worn edge pressing against her thigh, a reminder of choices made, promises broken. Slowly, she turned back, her chin lifting, her eyes cold and unflinching.

“Nah. Not running. Not anymore.”

Maddie’s smirk faltered, her eyes narrowing, the blade in her hand stilled for the first time. But Judy didn’t wait. She turned on her heel, boots thudding against the metal steps as she climbed, every clank and creak a small declaration of rebellion.

When she reached her apartment door, she paused, her breath coming in short, sharp bursts. She hesitated only for a heartbeat before shoving the door open and stepping inside. The duffel bag slipped from her shoulder, hitting the floor with a dull thud that barely registered over the ringing in her ears.

Reed was already there, hunched forward on her couch, elbows on his knees, hands loosely clasped as if he’d been waiting for this moment for too long. The dim, grimy light from the street outside cut through the half-drawn blinds, casting jagged stripes across his face, shadowing his eyes but leaving his sharp, clenched jaw in stark relief. He didn’t look up, but the weight of his presence filled the apartment, thickened the air like a brewing storm.

Judy crossed the room without a word and sank onto the couch beside him. She kept her gaze fixed on the floor, the stain on her carpet a safer focus than the man beside her. Words felt impossible, too heavy, each one a potential crack in the fragile, crumbling foundation of her resolve.

Him being here, so late, so uninvited, should’ve unsettled her. It didn’t. She didn’t flinch, didn’t shrink back. She was too damn tired. Tired of running, of fighting battles she never chose, of trying to patch up the broken pieces of her life with shaky hands. Whatever was coming, she’d face it head-on - even if it shattered her completely. She didn’t care. After all, she was already broken beyond healing.

Reed broke the silence first, his voice low, steady, too calm for the storm raging between them. “This was a warning,” he murmured. “The leak. A little reminder to Myers of their deal. A little reminder not to break another promise. Somehow, she knew Myers had eyes on you.”

The words snapped Judy out of her haze, and she blinked, her head jerking up to meet his gaze. Surprise flickered in her eyes, quickly chased by a simmering, uncertain anger. “Wait… meaning she has more?”

Reed’s lips twisted into a small, humorless smile. He leaned back, his fingers lacing together tightly, the tension in his body a mirror of her own. “Those files, the scandal they caused - it won’t topple Myers entirely,” he said, his voice a low, cutting whisper. “It’s just a warning shot. A taste of what she’s holding. And, of course, she has more.” He paused, his gaze sharpening, the flicker of an inscrutable emotion crossing his face. “It worked, though. Myers is scared.”

Judy felt a chill run down her spine, her fists clenching involuntarily against her thighs. The air felt too thin, her pulse too loud in her ears. For a moment, she felt the old, familiar urge to bolt, to throw open the door and run until her lungs burned and her legs gave out.

But she didn’t run. Not this time.

Instead, she forced herself upright, her limbs trembling with the effort, every muscle coiled tight like a spring ready to snap. Her arms wrapped tightly around her chest, fingers digging into the fabric of her jersey as if bracing against a blow. She began to pace, each step jagged and uneven, a futile attempt to burn off the hurricane inside her. She felt like a live wire, every nerve ending crackling with too much emotion, too much fear, too much anger.

“So, what now?” she demanded, her voice rougher than she intended, her throat tight with the words she’d been choking back for too long. “Are you just waiting for her to make another move? Using me as bait? Because that’s not gonna work anymore.”

Reed’s eyes followed her movements, his gaze unflinching, sharp enough to cut. His brow arched slightly, a hint of curiosity flickering in the hard lines of his face. “And why’s that?”

Judy hesitated, her hand twitching toward her pocket, where the coin sat. She didn’t trust him - not fully - and she had no intention of spilling her soul to him. But the weight of Valerie’s message burned fresh in her mind, an ache she couldn’t shake. She didn’t want to tell him about everything that had happened. About the sleepless nights, the hours she’d spent crying, the hours spent staring at the door as if willing it to open. About how all of it didn’t matter anymore. He didn’t deserve that part of her.

“I got... a note,” she muttered finally, her voice brittle, her gaze dropping to the floor. She hated how small her voice sounded, how exposed. “It felt like—like she was saying goodbye. I don’t think she cares what happens to me now.”

It hurt. The truth always did. Valerie had promised to come back, had held her close and whispered reassurances into her ear, but in the end, she’d chosen to flee. It had gotten too messy, too complicated, so she’d chosen to leave Judy behind. The countless conversations they had about this happening played out in her mind on a loop. She confessed her fears, telling Val how scared she was of losing her, of everything falling apart. She’d pleaded, and Valerie had listened - or so Judy had thought. But now those fears had been realized, her worst nightmares made flesh. Valerie had broken every promise, leaving Judy to drown in regret and abandonment yet again. Like she was just a pawn. Like she meant nothing.

Reed didn’t press her. Judy saw the slight shift in his posture, the way his shoulders tensed, the faintest flicker of something like understanding - or perhaps pity. The silence stretched between them, thick and suffocating, filled with the echoes of things left unsaid, of memories that cut too deep to face.

Finally, Solomon spoke, his voice laced with a faint, almost cruel amusement. “She sent me one too. She’s gone. Burned every bridge. Told me not to come after her. Said it won’t end well for any of us. That one of us comes back in a coffin.”

“What am I supposed to do now?” she whispered, her voice cracking, her hands clenching tighter around the fabric of her jersey, the seams stretching beneath her grip.

Reed’s shrug felt like a slap. “Whatever future you dreamed of? It’s not happening. Face it. You’re caught in something bigger than both of us, Judy. Let it go. Go back to your life.”

His words landed like stones, each one a reminder of her own powerlessness, her own insignificance in the grand, bloody scheme of things. Judy’s jaw tightened, a scoff escaping her before she could stop it, bitter and hollow, a reflex born of too many broken promises, too many ghosts.

“Are you letting it go, Reed?” she spat, her voice sharp, each word dripping with venom, a last, desperate attempt to claw back some semblance of control.

He didn’t flinch. His eyes held hers, steady, unyielding, and for a moment, she thought she saw something crack in his facade, a brief flicker of humanity before the mask slammed back into place. “She left a trace when she leaked the evidence,” he said, his voice colder now, his eyes hard. “Myers is mobilizing everything - agents, sleepers, the army. We’re heading to Scandinavia to track her down. She knows it, or she wouldn’t have sent that farewell. I’m guessing she told you to move on. All you can do now is to honor her last wish.”

Judy felt something twist inside her, a sharp, nauseating stab of fear. She bit her tongue, tasted blood, felt the metallic tang flood her mouth. “And what if I can’t?” she whispered, the words slipping out before she could stop them, raw and trembling on the edge of despair. “What if I can’t just let it go?”

Reed’s eyes hardened, his expression a mask of cold, detached resolve. “Then you’re doomed,” he said simply, the finality of it cutting through her like a blade, sharp and merciless.

She turned away from him. The ache in her chest swelled, a knot of sorrow and regret that seemed to twist tighter with every breath. It felt like drowning, like a noose around her throat, squeezing until each inhale scraped against raw, battered lungs.

Behind her, Reed stood up slowly. She could feel his eyes on her, the cool detachment of a man accustomed to delivering harsh truths without flinching. He hesitated for a moment, a pause that stretched painfully thin, as if he was weighing whether to leave her with one final wound, one last cut to drive the knife in deeper.

“This is goodbye, Judy,” he said, as though he had rehearsed it, as if it was a line he had to say for his own peace. “I hope you can get back to your old life. Forget about what happened, forget about her, and move on.”

Judy’s jaw tightened, her fingers curling into her palms until her nails bit into the flesh. She kept her gaze fixed on the wall. She refused to look at him, refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing the tears that burned at the edges of her eyes.

“If you need a motivation…” he paused, the silence stretching between them like a taut wire, ready to snap. “The camera caught her and Alex together in Scandinavia. Seems like they planned it together.”

The words hit her like a physical blow, a sickening twist in her gut that left her gasping for air. She couldn’t move, couldn’t speak. And in that silence, her heart fractured a little more. Her mind stumbled, grasping for some thread of reason, some anchor in the storm of betrayal and heartbreak that crashed over her. She had been prepared for the possibility that Val might have been forced into a corner, that she might have chosen survival over loyalty, that she was gone. But this… this felt different. This felt like the ground giving way beneath her feet.

She stared blankly at the window, her reflection in the glass, her eyes wide and hollow, staring back at her like a stranger’s. She felt the tears finally spill over, hot and bitter as they traced down her cheeks, cutting silent paths through the grime and sweat that clung to her skin.

“You deserve to live the rest of your life happily,” Reed continued, his tone infuriatingly calm, like he was offering her a kindness, a final mercy before he disappeared back into the shadows. “Find someone who isn’t dangerous, who isn’t broken. She wasn’t ever going to be what you needed.”

And with that, he turned on his heel, his boots echoing against the cold, unfeeling floor as he strode toward the door. He didn’t look back, didn’t offer a final word of comfort, didn’t even acknowledge the silent scream building in Judy’s chest.

The door clanged shut behind him, the echo reverberating through the room, a harsh, metallic sound that felt like the final nail in the coffin of a future she had dared to hope for. It felt like the end of something sacred, something irretrievably lost, the sound of something breaking, of a bridge burning.

For a long, terrible moment, Judy just stood there, fists clenched, chest heaving, her heart shattered into a thousand unrecognizable pieces. She let herself break, the tears falling unchecked as the emptiness closed in, the weight of her loss pressing down until she thought it might crush her entirely.

She stood there, alone in the flickering light, the bitter taste of betrayal thick on her tongue, and wondered if she would ever be whole again.

Chapter Text

Chapter XXVIII | War of Hearts
I can't help but love you, even though I try not to.

Judy stepped onto the pitch, right foot first, as always. It was a ritual as old as her love for the game, a small, silent promise to herself - a way to tether her mind to the present, to the here and now, when everything else felt like it was slipping through her fingers. The cool, freshly cut grass released its sharp, earthy bite into the damp air, mixing with the metallic tang of the stadium itself, a scent so deeply ingrained in her memory it felt like coming home.

Home. That’s what this place had always been. The pitch, the roar of the crowd swelling like an oncoming storm, the thrum of anticipation vibrating in her bones. It was where she belonged.

She took a deep breath, letting the stadium’s pulse sync with her own, hoping it might drown out the hollow ache that had taken root in her chest. She felt the familiar prickling of adrenaline beneath her skin, the tightening of muscle and mind, the sharp, electric focus that always came just before kickoff. It was a feeling she had come to crave, a reminder of who she was when the rest of her life felt uncertain.

As she reached the center circle, her gaze locked briefly with the opposing captain. They exchanged a firm handshake, a brief nod - the silent acknowledgment of warriors before battle. No words passed. None were needed. They both knew the game would do all the talking.

Lining up with her teammates, Judy squared her shoulders, letting the weight of the moment settle over her. The first notes of the anthem echoed through the stadium, a swelling, mournful melody that wrapped around her like the distant roar of the ocean on a cold night. It was the kind of sound that made the air feel heavier, the kind that reached down into your chest and squeezed. She felt it resonate through her bones, a reminder of every fight, every bruise, every sacrifice that had led her here.

It was the first match of the season, the beginning of a new climb, a fresh battle to prove they could hold onto the championship. An opportunity to show they weren’t a flash in the pan, a one-time fluke. They were the real deal, and this was their stage to prove it.

Rita stood beside her, a tower of quiet strength, her jaw set and eyes forward, every inch the veteran warrior. Beyond her, Roxanne, Sandra, Bianca, Ruby, and Iris - fierce, sharp-eyed, their expressions a mirror of her own tightly wound focus. These women were her family, her sisters in cleats and sweat-streaked pink jerseys, the ones who had bled beside her, fought with her, celebrated and mourned in equal measure.

This should have been enough. It always had been before.

The pitch had once been her safe haven, a place where the noise of the world faded. It was the only constant she had ever known, a familiar battlefield where the rules were clear and the stakes were simple - score, survive, endure. The grind of the season, the unending cycle of training, the roar of the crowd rising to a crescendo - it had always been her armor, the pulse of it drowning out the echoes of her own fears. She had survived heartbreak this way before, had outrun the shadows of her past by driving herself to the edge, pushing her body until every muscle burned, until there was no room left for pain or doubt. She had rebuilt herself piece by piece, match by match, until the broken edges of her heart felt as sharp and unyielding as the blades of her cleats.

She should have been able to do it again. She should have been able to find herself in the rhythm of the game, to let the relentless routine carry her past the ache in her chest. She should have been able to shut it all out - the betrayal, the anger, the regret - to lose herself in the only thing that had ever made sense.

As the final strains of the anthem faded into the humid night air, she found herself glancing down the line, her gaze drifting, searching for something she knew she wouldn’t find. It had become a habit, one she couldn’t quite break, like a phantom pain that lingered long after the wound had closed. Her eyes sought a figure that wasn’t there, a presence that had once been as vital to her as the breath in her lungs, the beat of her heart.

Valerie.

The name crashed through her mind, a wave that left her breathless. She could almost see her, a flicker at the edge of her vision - that shock of electric blue hair catching the wind, that crooked, devil-may-care grin, the way those storm-gray eyes would lock onto hers with a heat that made her pulse race. Judy’s chest tightened, a deep, aching pressure that felt too much like grief, too much like longing. She could still feel the ghost of Valerie beside her, the heat of her body close enough to burn, the memory of her touch like a brand against her skin.

Valerie had been her anchor and her chaos, her calm and her storm. She had drawn Judy out of the shadows, made her feel alive in ways no one else ever had, only to disappear when the promises they had whispered in the quiet hours had shattered like glass. She had left Judy standing in the wreckage, the echoes of their shared laughter still ringing in her ears, the taste of her still lingering on her lips.

But that chapter was closed now, the ink dry, the pages turned. She had told herself this a thousand times, each repetition a futile attempt to exorcise the ghost that haunted every corner of her mind. Move on. Forget her. That was the plan. Focus on the game, on the grind, on the next pass, the next goal, the next clash of bodies and scrape of cleats on synthetic grass.

But as the whistle blew again, a sharp, punishing sound that cut through the humid air and set the game into full motion, Judy felt that familiar hollow ache pulse through her. An emptiness that all the adrenaline and endorphins in the world couldn’t fill.

She forced her gaze forward, willed herself back into the present, her body moving on autopilot as the chaos of the match swirled around her. But even here, beneath the floodlights, surrounded by her teammates and the deafening roar of the crowd, she felt it - the absence, the gaping wound where Valerie had once been.

And there wasn’t a damn thing she could do about it.

The bassline from the club's speakers throbbed relentlessly, vibrating through Judy's chest like the unsteady rhythm of her thoughts. She hunched over the bar, the polished surface cool beneath her elbows, the whiskey in her glass catching the fractured glints of neon that sliced through the smoky air.

In her hand, a coin turned over and over, it’s cool, etched surface grounding her in a way nothing else seemed to. It felt almost out of place here, in this feverish haze of strobe lights and sweat-damp bodies, but it was a tether, a reminder of the things she still couldn’t let go.

The team had pulled off their first win of the season - the kind of scrappy, hard-fought victory that begged for celebration, for shots slammed back and throaty cheers, for bodies crushed together in the dark. The others had scattered into the chaos, their laughter rising above the synthetic beats, their voices merging with the metallic grind of the music. Rita, always the one to drag them into the heart of the city’s nightlife, had chosen this spot - a warehouse-turned-club where the air hung thick with heat and the promise of bad decisions.

Judy hadn’t protested. She’d shown up, had even forced a crooked smile when Rita slung an arm around her shoulders and bellowed something about tradition, about keeping the team’s rituals alive. But her mind felt miles away, the noise and the press of bodies barely reaching her through the fog. She wasn’t here. Not really. She didn’t want to be here. She wanted the quiet, the solitude of her apartment, the embrace of darkness and silence as she lay curled up in bed chasing a sleep that often eluded her.

She flicked the coin against the bar, the metallic clink lost in the din. She lifted her whiskey, letting the burn of it scrape down her throat, a small, sharp pain she welcomed.

Judy had tried to convince herself it was over. She’d whispered it to the empty walls of her apartment, muttered it into the steam rising from her morning coffee, repeated it like a mantra in the silent moments. Valerie had walked away, had said her goodbye, severed the ties, left her to pick up the pieces, to rebuild from the wreckage. She should have moved on by now, let the memories decay into dust and ash, fragments of a life that no longer existed.

But the past didn’t fade as easily as she hoped. It clung to her, it had claws that had sunk deep beneath her skin, refusing to let go.

It hit her in the quiet moments, in the fragile, unguarded spaces between breaths. The low, rough echo of a stranger’s laugh across the bar could twist her stomach. A flicker of blue hair in a crowd would make her head snap around before she could catch herself, her heart leaping painfully only to crash a moment later.

She couldn’t even dig through her closet without stumbling over ghosts. One of Valerie’s Samurai t-shirts, soft from too many washes, the logo cracked and faded, still clung to the faintest trace of her scent. A whisper of sandalwood, leather and that sharp, electric hint that had always clung to her skin. Judy had tried to bury it beneath a pile of her own clothes, but her fingers always seemed to find it again, drawn to the fabric as if hoping to find some lingering warmth.

But the worst came from the questions about the World Cup. Reporters pried, trying to drag stories from her, pulling her mind back to those nights in Barcelona. To the tangled sheets and the whispered secrets in their tiny, perfect bubble. She remembered the way Valerie’s eyes had softened in those moments, the sharpness in her gaze melting into something warmer, something just for her. She remembered the way their limbs had entwined together, their bodies a comfortable sprawl of heat and exhaustion, the air between them thick with affection. It had felt like forever, like a dream that would stretch into the distant horizon, unbreakable and endless.

But forever had turned out to be shorter than either of them had expected.

The coin flipped again before vanishing back into her palm. She sighed loudly. Around her, the crowd moved like a living thing, a blur of color and sound, all energy and euphoria. But it felt distant, like watching a film she had no part in, her connection severed, her place forgotten.

“Mind if I join you?”

Judy’s fingers tightened reflexively around the coin. She turned, blinking against the harsh glare of neon as Tom, the team’s physiotherapist, eased onto the barstool beside her. He leaned in, his face painted in sharp angles by the club’s erratic lighting, his expression one of practiced calm.

“Tom,” she said, her tone guarded, wary. “Didn’t think this was your scene.”

He shrugged, signaling the bartender with a flick of his wrist. “Rita’s orders,” he replied, his voice a touch too loud to cut through the pounding bass. “She can be persuasive. Figured I’d play along. Besides…” He paused, glancing over at her. “Just broke up with Mike. Could use a distraction.”

Judy felt a faint flicker of sympathy, though it barely pierced the numbness wrapped around her. She forced a faint, crooked smile. “He didn’t like the fact you babysit grown athletes all day?”

Tom chuckled, the sound dry and humorless. “Wasn’t that. He just wanted more - something serious. I figured I’d cut and run before it got messy.”

Judy glanced down at her glass, her thumb tracing the rim as the whiskey caught the pulsing lights. “Smart move.”

If only she’d been that smart. If only she’d walked away the first time Valerie had smirked at her across the pitch, that wicked glint in her eyes daring Judy to come closer. If only she’d never answered that first message, never taken that first reckless step into something that had turned her world upside down. But she hadn’t, and now here she was, drowning in sorrow and regret, her pulse throbbing in time with the bass, her mind forever circling back to what she’d lost. Now, the ghost of a blue-haired, gravel-voiced menace haunted every corner of her soul, leaving cracks Judy didn’t know how to fill.

Tom’s eyes flicked to the coin in her hand, his gaze lingering for a second too long. “Nice piece,” he said, his tone light, testing. “A fuck buddy of mine used to collect those. Military guy, a bit of a freak. Said they carried stories, marks of where you’d been, what you’d survived. It might fetch a decent buck if you’re willing to sell it."

Judy’s fingers tightened around it, the metal biting into her palm. She hesitated, the words catching in her throat, their edges jagged and bitter. “I thought I wanted to keep it,” she murmured. “But now... I’m not so sure.”

Tom studied her, but to her relief, he didn’t press. He simply lifted his glass, the rim catching the light as he tipped it toward her in a silent toast. Judy was grateful for the reprieve, for the silence that meant she didn’t have to explain where the coin came from - or who it belonged to.

The speakers crackled suddenly, a burst of static cutting through the deep, bone-rattling bass. The DJ’s distorted voice boomed over the crowd, announcing the next set, and the club erupted in a fresh wave of cheers. The lights pulsed in response, ultraviolet flooding the cavernous space, turning the sweat-slick bodies around her into silhouettes of neon and shadow, skin and drinks glowing like ethereal specters in the artificial dark.

Judy turned back to Tom, and the laugh escaped her before she could stop it, loud and unrestrained, cutting through the pounding music. Tom’s face, bathed in the harsh, surreal glow of ultraviolet, had become the unwitting canvas for a drunken artist’s masterpiece. A crudely drawn, vividly glowing penis stretched proudly across his cheek.

“What?” Tom’s brows knitted together, his confusion almost comically earnest as he blinked at her. “What’s so funny?”

Judy doubled over, her shoulders shaking, the breathless, uncontrollable laughter bursting out in a way she hadn’t felt in weeks. For a moment, she felt light, free.

“Your cheek, choom,” she gasped, fighting to catch her breath. “You’ve got a real masterpiece goin’ on there.”

Tom’s hand flew to his face, his expression turning from confusion to mild panic as he fumbled for his phone, flipping the camera to selfie mode. His eyes narrowed as he took in the glowing atrocity, the bright ink pulsing like its own private joke.

“Fucking Rita,” he groaned, his frustration tinged with reluctant amusement. “She said she was drawing a heart.”

Judy cackled, nearly spilling her drink as she clutched her side. “And you believed her?”

Tom rolled his eyes, the corner of his mouth twitching despite himself. “I thought she was drunk, not scheming. Guess that’s on me.”

Their laughter mingled, a rare moment of levity cutting through the haze of alcohol and thundering beats. It felt good, almost normal, like a sliver of the life she’d had before Valerie, before everything turned into a twisted, anxious mess. For a second, Judy let herself sink into it, her heart lighter, her chest a little less tight.

Tom drained his drink and set the glass down with a mock-serious look, straightening as if he was about to march into battle. “C’mon, you comin’ with me to kick her ass, or what?” He jerked his head toward the dance floor, where Rita had vanished into the swirling, neon-lit chaos.

Judy shrugged, still grinning, though her laughter had begun to fade, the dark weight creeping back into her mind. “Maybe. Give me a second.”

Tom squinted at her, skeptical. “Yeah, sure you will. I don’t buy it... but hey, that’s fine, just don’t forget to hit me up if you ever decide to sell that coin,” he added, tapping her hand where the small, metal disk rested, cool against her palm. “I can hook you up with my ex’s contact—seriously, it could be worth something. Especially if you clean it up. Looks like it’s got some stains or something. Army nuts love their collectibles pristine.”

He clapped her shoulder, the friendly weight of it jarring her slightly, and then he disappeared into the crowd, his figure swallowed by the pulsing lights and shifting shadows. Judy barely noticed. Her focus had already narrowed to the coin resting in her hand, its weight suddenly heavier, colder, like it had absorbed some of the darkness creeping back into her thoughts.

Clean it? The thought lingered, an uninvited whisper in the back of her mind. She turned the coin over, holding it up to the erratic, strobing ultraviolet light. At first, it looked the same as it always had - dull silver, the emblem worn smooth from years of handling, the edges rough where time had gnawed at it. But then, as the lights shifted, something caught her eye.

Her breath stilled. Faint, dark marks appeared on two of the letters etched into the inscription along the coin’s edge - not the emblem, but the outermost ring of words. She squinted, forcing herself to focus despite the haze of alcohol, the disorienting flashes of color and the chaos around her. Slowly, the marks sharpened into clarity.

Two letters. C and N. N and C. Two letters that meant everything.

A chill ran down her spine, her pulse spiking, heart hammering in her chest. Memories surged, unbidden and relentless. Valerie sprawled across their bed, the coin flipping lazily between her fingers, spinning stories about codes and secret messages, about things hidden in plain sight. Back then, Judy had laughed, dismissing it as another of Valerie’s wild tales, a bit of street wisdom plucked from a past that still felt shrouded in shadow.

But now, with the coin glowing faintly in her palm, Judy felt the undeniable pull of something deeper, something far more dangerous.

The realization hit her like a gut punch, leaving her breathless. Her grip tightened around the coin, her knuckles whitening as the weight of it - no, the meaning of it - settled over her. This wasn’t just a trinket. It wasn’t a keepsake or a farewell gift. It was a message. Valerie had left this behind deliberately, knowing Judy would find it, knowing she’d figure it out eventually.

Val hadn’t run. She hadn’t fled to Scandinavia with Alex. She was still there. Hiding.

She was in Night City.

Morning crept through the slats in the blinds, thin bands of pale light slicing the gloom of the apartment. Dust motes swirled in the dim glow, caught in the slow, deliberate breath of a city just waking. The air was still, thick with the scent of stale smoke and the faint, metallic tang of last night’s rain.

Judy lay motionless beneath the tangle of sheets, the fabric twisted around her legs like the echoes of a bad dream. Her gaze fixed on the cracked paint above, the ceiling a mosaic of peeling white and water-stained shadows. Her alarm buzzed again, the sharp, insistent sound a cruel intrusion into her stillness. She reached out, her arm heavy and mechanical, fingers fumbling to silence it. The abrupt quiet that followed felt hollow, a vacuum filled only by the clamor of her own thoughts.

She should have been up by now. This time of day, she’d normally be lacing up her sneakers, hoodie pulled over her head, stepping into the cold, indifferent bite of morning air. The routine kept her sane, kept her moving when the weight of everything felt too much. She ran to drown out the noise in her head, to chase something like normalcy through the alleys, parks and cracked pavement of Pittsburgh. It was a way of claiming her place in the world, a silent rebellion against the chaos.

But not today. Not after last night. Not with the coin on her bedside table.

That damn coin. Just metal. Just a circle of alloy, cool and lifeless in the palm of her hand. But it was more than that. It was a message, a promise, a question.

The letters carved into its face seemed to whisper at her, a taunt dressed in cold steel.

N. C.

C. N.

N. C.

The pattern looped in her mind. She turned the letters over and over in her head, twisting their meaning like a puzzle she couldn’t solve. What if she was wrong? What if it meant nothing at all? The blood smeared across the metal - was it fresh, or just a relic of some long-forgotten fight? Maybe the letters weren’t even meant for her. Maybe it meant something different. No choice? Not coming? Nothing changed?

The possibilities cycled endlessly, but deep down, in the part of her that still ached with a raw, unyielding hope, she knew. She knew what it meant. The answer was right there, even if she tried to deny it. Even if the weight of knowing felt like it might crush her.

Valerie was in Night City.

Her breath caught, chest tightening with a bitter, painful clarity. The realization hit her all over again, the weight of it settling like a lead brick in her stomach. The hope, the doubt, the quiet, creeping fear - it all crashed into her with the force of a freight train. That singular thought was too much, too big, and it clawed at her mind with cruel insistence.

Had Val known it would take this long to reach her? Did she think Judy would understand the cryptic message? And the question that burned brighter than all the others - was she still there, waiting? Or had she already moved on? A ghost in the city’s neon veins, leaving Judy to chase shadows.

Reed’s voice still echoed in Judy’s mind, precise and clinical, each word a needle piercing through her growing dread.

“We’re heading to Scandinavia to track her down.”

She clenched her fists, the fabric of the sheets twisting between her fingers as she let those words sink in. Scandinavia - clean, cold, distant. It felt like a convenient lie, a thin veil meant to throw off anyone desperate enough to follow. A place where secrets could freeze over and be forgotten, where ghost stories were smothered in snow and silence. But Night City... that was different. It felt real.

Night City was familiar. It was a city that consumed the lost and broken, where ghosts could walk the streets unnoticed, blending into the chaos like smoke in the wind. It was the kind of place Valerie would disappear into - a hunter’s ground, where the lines between survival and surrender blurred into a constant, cruel now.

Judy could see it so clearly in her mind. Valerie slipping back into the city’s veins, moving through its alleys and high-rises like a phantom. She would know every corner, every bolt hole, every crack in the glass. She’d have safehouses carved out of forgotten buildings, gun caches tucked beneath rusting metal grates, and the kind of alliances that were bought with favors and sealed with scars.

And then Panam’s voice cut through her spiraling thoughts.

“She’s fucking alive. Bruised, scarred, a few new bullet holes, but breathing.”

Alive. But at what cost? Judy’s stomach twisted, a sick, gnawing ache settling low in her gut. She imagined Valerie battered, her body a patchwork of fresh wounds and old scars, the ghosts of every fight etched into her skin.

Militech was involved somehow. Of course they were. Like a vulture circling a dying body, ready to pick the bones clean. What had Valerie given up for their protection? What price had she paid to walk away from FIA? What had she become in the process? Had she merely traded one leash for another, swapping Myers’ icy grip for the iron fist of Militech?

Judy’s jaw clenched, her teeth grinding together as she forced herself to breathe, to focus. It felt absurd, maddening, that this tiny piece of metal - this coin - could shatter the fragile peace she had tried to build. It wasn’t just a message. It was a challenge. An invitation.

But the question that burned the hottest, that twisted her insides into a tangled mess, was simple.

Did Val really want her to come?

The thought clung to her, cold and jagged as broken glass. Nearly two months had passed since she’d last seen Valerie. Two months since the promises they’d made had felt like they were written in stone instead of sand. Two months of silence, of convincing herself that Valerie was gone for good, that she’d been abandoned. Again. But now there was this sliver of hope. Dangerous, cruel, intoxicating hope.

Maybe Valerie hadn’t abandoned her. Maybe she’d been protecting her, staying hidden until it was safe to reach out. Maybe this coin was proof that Valerie hadn’t given up on her.

What was she supposed to do now? Ignore it? Pretend she hadn’t seen it? Pretend she could go on living, patching together the pieces of herself while ignoring the one person who made her feel whole? Try to piece together some semblance of normalcy and forget the way Valerie’s name had shaped her every thought, every action, every goddamn heartbeat?

A hollow laugh escaped her lips, bitter and fragile. Forgetting Valerie had been impossible when she thought the goodbye was final. Now, with those two letters staring back at her, daring her to act, the idea of moving on felt like a cruel joke.

But could she even do it? Could she chase her to Night City? Maybe she was too tired, too scared, too broken to follow her lover’s trail, to take the risk of finding her only to lose her all over again.

The shrill buzz of her alarm broke through the quiet once again, its relentless persistence gnawing at Judy’s already fragile nerves. She stared at her phone’s glowing screen, her hand hovering over it, torn between silencing the noise and hurling the damn thing across the room. In the end, she let it ring, the sound blending into the ruthless storm of her thoughts.

The sheets felt heavy, suffocating even, as though they weren’t just fabric but a weight pinning her down. Her mind churned, a chaotic loop of questions with no answers, possibilities she didn’t dare explore, and fears she couldn’t suppress. She was trapped, the echoes of Val’s voice whispering through the cracks in her armor her only companion.

Maybe she was a fool. Maybe she’d always been a fool, clinging to a shadow. But then again, maybe shadows were all she had left.

The soft click of the front door broke through her spiraling thoughts. She froze, her breath hitching in her throat, fingers gripping the edge of the sheet like a lifeline. For a moment, her mind went blank, instinct screaming at her to hide, to vanish, to pull the walls tighter around herself. But it was too late. Footsteps echoed through the hallway, unhurried but purposeful, each one sending a fresh spike of anxiety through her.

Then came the voice, casual but tinged with worry, floating down the corridor and winding its way into the bedroom. “Jude? You here?”

Rita.

Judy sucked in a breath, trying to steady herself, trying to claw back a semblance of calm. The bedroom door creaked open just enough for Rita’s face to appear in the gap, her eyes scanning the dimly lit room, brow furrowed. Despite the concern, that familiar crooked grin tugged at the corner of her lips, the one she always used to mask the real worry underneath.

“There you are,” she said, pushing the door open fully and leaning against the frame with the ease of someone who belonged there. Her arms crossed over her chest, fingers tapping absently against her bicep, her gaze sharp as it swept over Judy. “You ghosted last night. No goodbye, no nothin’. Figured I’d come check on you.”

Judy forced a weak smile, the kind that felt like a mask pulled too tight, straining at the edges. She reached over and silenced the alarm on her phone, the annoying sound cutting off abruptly, leaving the room quieter than before.

“Was tired, that’s all,” she murmured, her voice thin and brittle, barely more than a whisper.

She hoped it would be enough to deflect, to push Rita away without inviting more questions. But Rita wasn’t that easily fooled. She pushed off the doorframe and took a step closer, her eyes narrowing slightly, the sharpness in them not missing the tightness in Judy’s posture or the hollow look in her eyes. She took another step, her gaze catching on the small, gleaming object sitting on the nightstand.

“What’s that?” Rita asked, nodding toward the coin. Her tone was casual, but there was a tension beneath it, a curiosity she couldn’t quite mask.

Judy’s entire body went rigid. She glanced at the coin, and for a moment, the world seemed to tilt, the air in the room growing heavier, pressing down on her chest. The sight of it sent a fresh wave of panic through her, abrupt and icy, cutting through the thin veneer of control she’d managed to cling to. She hadn’t meant for this, hadn’t wanted anyone to see, to know, to ask questions she couldn’t answer.

“Jude?” Rita’s voice softened, the teasing edge gone, replaced by something closer to real concern. She moved to the side of the bed, slowly, her hand reaching out to rest gently on Judy’s arm. “Hey, what’s goin’ on?”

Judy shook her head, her breath coming faster, her vision blurring as tears welled up, slipping through the cracks in her defenses. She raised her hands to her face, trying to wipe them away, but they kept coming, hot and unrelenting, her shoulders beginning to shake with each gasping sob.

“I…” She tried to speak, her voice breaking, the words catching in her throat. “I can’t… I can’t do this alone, Reet.”

Rita’s hand tightened slightly on her arm, an anchor in the storm, her eyes never leaving Judy’s face.

“Can’t what?” she pressed, her tone low, patient, as if she knew pushing too hard would only make Judy retreat further.

Judy took a shuddering breath, the sound of it ragged in the otherwise silent room. She forced herself to look at Rita, to meet those bright, unyielding eyes, and for a moment, she felt the walls she’d so carefully built start to crack. The fear, the shame, the desperation - it all welled up inside her, a tidal wave of emotion she could no longer hold back.

“The coin,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “It’s from her. From Val. She’s… she’s alive, Rita. She’s alive.” Her words came faster now, stumbling over each other in a frantic rush, the dam fully broken. “I’ve been keeping it a secret. Everything. I didn’t want anyone else to get hurt because of me, but now… now I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how to keep her safe, how to keep this from spiraling out of control. I don’t know how to—”

She choked on the last words, her voice dissolving into fresh sobs, her hands covering her face again, as if that could somehow hide the humiliation, the terror, the overwhelming weight of it all. She couldn’t bear to see the look in Rita’s eyes, whatever it might be - judgment, pity, disappointment. Any of it would break her further, push her closer to the edge she was already teetering on.

But Rita didn’t pull away. Instead, she shifted closer, her hand never leaving Judy’s arm, her touch steady, grounding. “Hey,” she said softly, her voice gentle, her other hand reaching up to pull Judy’s own hands away from her face. “Hey… slow down. Start from the beginnin’. What the hell’s goin’ on, Jude?”

Judy’s breath came in short, shallow gasps, her heart hammering in her chest, but she forced herself to nod, to meet Rita’s gaze fully. What she found there wasn’t judgment but a steady patience, an unspoken promise to stay. Slowly, she let the walls she’d so carefully built crumble. If anyone could help her find her way forward, it was Rita.

“I need to tell you somethin’,” she said, her voice steadier now, the tears still flowing but her heart a little lighter. “I can’t keep it inside anymore. I need someone to tell me what the fuck I’m supposed to do. And it’s… it’s a long story.”

Rita’s eyes never left hers. She nodded slowly, her grip on Judy’s arm firm.

“A’ight. Lay it on me. Whatever it is, we’ll figure it out. You’re not doin’ this alone.”

Judy took another deep breath, her chest rising and falling as she braced herself. Then, word by word, she let the truth spill free. The secrets, the fears, the hopes she didn’t dare name before - it all came tumbling out, the weight of it slowly lifting as Rita listened.

For the first time in what felt like forever, Judy let someone else help her carry the burden.

The soft, mechanical hum of the airport’s air conditioning merged with the low murmur of voices, the occasional clatter of luggage wheels against polished floors, and the faint, distant chime of announcements crackling through the intercom. The lounge was alive with the restless energy of Judy’s teammates. They sprawled across the plush chairs, legs draped over armrests, jackets crumpled beside them, the easy camaraderie of athletes caught in the in-between of one game and the next. Someone cracked a joke, drawing a burst of deep, belly-deep laughter from the group, a sound that echoed off the glass walls and high ceilings.

Judy sat apart, folded into a shadowed corner near the far wall, her body curled inward like a leaf bracing against the wind. The coin danced between her fingers, spinning and flipping with a well-practiced ease, the cool metal a reassuring weight against her skin. She spun it, let it catch the overhead lights, then flicked it back again. It had become second nature, like a nervous tic or a lifeline she couldn’t let go of.

Across the lounge, the departures board glowed, its shifting columns of destinations casting an ethereal, ever-changing light against the polished floors. Her eyes skimmed the list out of habit, unfocused, scanning without intention - until a single line snagged her attention like a barbed hook.

Night City.

Her fingers fumbled, the coin slipping from her grasp before she caught it again, the smooth edge pressing into her palm. Her chest tightened, the weight inside her sinking low and heavy, like an anchor dragging her into waters too deep to escape.

It was nothing. Just another destination, just another name in the endless list of places people came from and went to. She wasn’t going to Night City. She was headed to Salem, for another match, to the promise of a fresh start, to the life she was supposed to be living. But those two words burned across her mind, refusing to fade. The place she had sworn to leave behind. The place where she had left too much of herself. The place where Valerie might still be.

A voice echoed in her mind, gravelly and tender all at once.

“You won’t lose me.”

But she had. She’d lost Valerie, and somewhere along the way, she’d lost herself too. Two months had passed – two months of silence, of empty nights and cold mornings, of trying to rebuild something from the ashes of what had been. Two months of pretending she wasn’t still holding her breath, waiting for a sign, a whisper, a promise fulfilled. Two months of breaking herself apart and piecing herself back together, only to shatter again at the faintest reminder.

She closed her eyes for a moment. Another one of Valerie’s promises drifted back to her, as vivid as the day it had been spoken.

“It might take time, but I will come back to you. I promise. You’re not gonna lose me.”

A shadow flitted at the edge of her vision, the cushion beside her dipping slightly as someone sat down. She didn’t look up, her eyes still locked on the departures board, her thumb brushing absently over the coin’s edge.

“You good?”

Judy blinked, her head tilting just enough to catch the sharp profile beside her. Rita had leaned back into the cracked vinyl of the seat, her arms crossed, eyes narrowed as they took in the tight line of Judy’s jaw, the tremor in her fingers. She didn’t push, didn’t pry. Just watched.

Judy forced a breath, the air scraping against the tightness in her chest. “Yeah,” she managed, her voice rough, like she’d been screaming or crying or maybe just holding her breath too long. She tried to smile, felt the corners of her mouth twitch upward in a pale imitation of the real thing. It felt foreign, the kind of smile she hadn’t worn in weeks, thin and brittle, a lie she didn’t believe. “Just… thinking.”

Rita’s gaze flicked to the coin still clutched in Judy’s hand, then followed her line of sight to the departures board. Her brow furrowed slightly when she caught the name glowing in sterile green, the letters spelling out a place that felt more like a wound than a destination. But she said nothing, her silence a quiet offer of space Judy didn’t know how to ask for.

The noise of the terminal felt distant now, the echo of hurried footsteps, the disembodied voice crackling over the intercom, all muffled by the pulse pounding in Judy’s ears. Her fingers resumed their dance with the coin, spinning it faster, the edges biting into her skin, a reminder that she was still here, still breathing, still caught in this terrible, beautiful ache.

“Jude.” Rita’s voice was quiet but firm, cutting through the noise in her head. Judy’s eyes snapped back to her, startled by the intensity in her friend’s gaze. “You should go,” she said simply, her tone flat, as if she was stating an obvious, binding truth.

Judy’s heart stuttered, the coin stilling in her palm. She felt the blood rush to her face, the air thickening in her lungs as she struggled to form a coherent response. “What... what are you even talkin’ ‘bout?” Her voice came out tight, defensive, though she didn’t meet Rita’s eyes, her gaze instead drawn to the departures board where those glowing letters still taunted her.

But Rita knew. Judy had finally cracked, spilled the whole mess to her in a fit of grief and anger, the words tumbling out like blood from an open wound. She had held nothing back - every lie, every fear, every broken promise. She had expected judgment, had braced for the disappointment, but instead, Rita had just sat there, silent and steady, absorbing it all without flinching. When it was over, when the room felt too small and Judy felt like she might choke on the weight of her confession, Rita had simply pulled her into a bone-crushing hug, the kind that broke down walls, and whispered that she’d be there, no matter what.

That was Rita, though. She had seen Judy at her worst – again - and rather than turning away, she dug her heels in, doing everything she could to make sure Judy wouldn’t drown in herself.

She leaned forward, eyes locking onto Judy’s, the intensity in her gaze burning through the fog of Judy’s indecision. “Night City,” the purple-haired woman said, her voice sharper, more insistent. “I checked. There are still seats on that plane.”

Judy’s pulse stuttered again, her head snapping toward her friend, disbelief flickering across her features. Rita had never pushed her like this, had never tried to steer her one way or the other. She had always been the quiet support, the unspoken understanding, the hand on her shoulder when the world felt too heavy.

“You’re telling me to go?” Judy’s voice was small, tentative, the words shivering on the edge of hope and fear.

Rita’s expression softened for just a moment, a flicker of warmth in those unyielding eyes. “You’ve been broken since Barcelona,” she said bluntly. “The same way you were after Evelyn. I didn’t get it then, but I do now.” She leaned closer, her voice dropping to a fierce whisper. “And you have to take that last step, Jude. She’s not dead. She’s out there. Waiting for you. You know she is.”

The words hit Judy like a punch to the gut, her breath catching as her mind raced. Images of Valerie flashed through her thoughts - that crooked grin, those gray eyes lit with mischief and fire, the rough edge to her voice when she whispered promises into the dark.

“It might screw up your career, hell, maybe even your whole life,” Rita continued, her tone softening just a fraction. “But I don’t think you care. Don’t think you should care. This is what you want. What you’ve always wanted. You should go.” She leaned back, her arms crossing again as if she had made her peace with it. “She’s waitin’ for you. And you love her, Jude. Like no one else before.”

That was the truth, wasn’t it? She loved her. Not the kind of love that swept you off your feet and made you dizzy with infatuation. No, it was deeper, sharper - heartbreaking and consuming. It was the kind of love that lived in your marrow, the kind you couldn’t breathe without. Judy knew she could go back to her life, her routine. She could survive. Watch the days blur into each other, maybe even move on eventually. But what was the point of surviving when you’d already found the one thing that made you feel truly alive?

Judy’s chest tightened, her breath coming in shallow, ragged gasps. She could hear Valerie’s voice in her mind, rough and alive and brimming with that impossible, undeniable promise.

“I’ll always come back to you. No matter how long it takes. No matter what they do. I’ll find my way home. You hear me? Always. I’m not giving up on us. Not now. Not ever.”

Rita’s voice cut through her thoughts. “I bought you a ticket already,” she said, deadpan. “Go, Jude. Go get your girl.”

Judy’s breath caught. For the first time in days, her fingers stilled against the coin. And for the first time in weeks, she let herself believe it might not be too late.

Judy weaved through the crowded walkway, her breath coming in short, panicked bursts, eyes fixed on the gate ahead. The one bound for Night City. She barely registered the occasional bump against strangers, murmuring fragmented apologies over her shoulder without slowing her pace.

This was it - the point of no return. No time for second-guessing, no room for hesitation. No turning back.

She was close now. Just a few more steps. The tightness in her chest spread, gripping her lungs in a vise as the terminal’s stale, recycled air burned in her throat. She felt the ache in her legs, the sting of sweat at her temples, but none of it mattered. Not when the plane was already boarding, not when her future hung by a thread.

Then, without warning, she collided with someone. The impact jolted her, the sudden resistance breaking her momentum. She stumbled, her backpack slipping, one strap sliding down her arm. Strong hands caught her, steadying her before she could pitch forward onto the scuffed tile floor.

“Where’s the fire, Alvy?”

The voice was familiar, a blend of authority and concern, and it hit her like a splash of cold water. Judy’s wide, panicked eyes snapped up, and she found herself staring into Regina’s face. Her mentor’s brows furrowed, the usual unshakable confidence in her expression fractured by confusion and worry as she took in Judy’s flushed, breathless state.

Judy’s heart twisted painfully, the air suddenly too thick to breathe. She hadn’t planned for this, hadn’t wanted this confrontation. She’d hoped to slip away quietly, avoid the questions, the accusations, the disappointment. She hadn’t wanted to see the betrayal register in Regina’s eyes. Now, standing face to face with the woman who had been like a mother to her, who had shaped her, guided her, and believed in her, the weight of her decision felt unbearable.

“Alvy,” Regina’s tone softened, her hands still firmly on Judy’s shoulders. “What the hell’s going on?”

Judy swallowed, her gaze dropping to the floor as if the scuffed tiles might offer an escape. Her fingers tightened around the fraying strap of her backpack, the rough fabric digging into her palm. She felt the sting of unshed tears, the burning in her throat, but forced herself to meet Regina’s gaze. She owed her that much, at least.

“I’m not going to Salem,” she managed, her voice thin and strained, each word scraping against her resolve.

Regina blinked, the confusion in her eyes deepening before the full weight of the statement hit her. She glanced over Judy’s shoulder at the gate, the one bound for Night City, and understanding flickered across her face. It hardened her features, her jaw tightening, the softness in her eyes turning cold.

“You’ve got to be shitting me,” Regina bit out, her tone sharp enough to cut. “You’re going to Night City? In the middle of the season? Abandoning your team? After everything we’ve built? After everything you’ve worked for?”

Judy flinched at the bitterness in her tone. She bit the inside of her cheek, fighting to hold her ground.

Regina’s grip on her shoulders tightened, her fingers digging into muscle, not enough to hurt but enough to anchor her in the moment. “I heard about her, Judy. Okado said she’s done. One-season wonder. You’re chasing after someone who’s finished with this life, someone who walked away.”

The words stung, each one a barbed hook sinking deep into Judy’s chest, but she refused to back down. She shook her head, her vision blurring as tears threatened to spill.

“It’s not just about her,” Judy said, her voice shaking but determined, each word a small rebellion against the doubt coiling in her gut. “It’s about me. About what I want, Reggie.”

Regina’s eyes searched her face, her own hurt and frustration flaring in the tense silence. She shook her head slowly, the disbelief etched into every line of her face. “And what about everything we’ve done for you?” she demanded, her tone sharp and unforgiving. “What about the team? The future you’ve worked so damn hard to build? What about everything I’ve given you?”

Judy’s throat tightened, the familiar ache of guilt clawing at her insides. She felt the weight of Regina’s expectations, the years of training, of sacrifice, of shared victories and bitter defeats. But this was different. This was her choice. Her life.

“I know,” she whispered, her voice breaking, her heart shattering with each syllable. “I know what you’ve done for me. And I’m grateful. But I can’t do this anymore, Regina. Not like this. Not without her.”

The raw honesty in her voice seemed to stop the coach cold. For a long, agonizing moment, neither of them spoke. The noise of the terminal swelled around them, a chaotic backdrop to the unraveling of a bond that had once felt unbreakable. Regina’s expression shifted, the anger giving way to something more complicated - a mix of raw hurt, disappointment, and acceptance. She let out a slow, heavy breath and released Judy’s shoulders, stepping back, her arms dropping to her sides.

“Do what you have to do,” she said quietly, her voice devoid of its earlier sharpness, the resignation in it more painful than any shouted accusation. “But don’t think this won’t come at a cost. You’re walking away from everything.”

Judy nodded, her vision blurring as she adjusted her slipping backpack. Her legs were trembling as she stepped around Regina and toward the gate. She didn’t look back. Couldn’t. Every step felt like an act of self-destruction, a leap into the unknown. The urge to turn back clawed at her, but she forced herself to keep moving.

This was her choice. Her path. And she had to see it through, no matter the cost.

Chapter Text

-- I --

The Gates
I see a mountain at my gates, I see it more and more each day.
What I give, it takes away, whether I go or when I stay.
I see a mountain in my way, it's looming larger by the day.
I see a darkness in my fate. I'll drive my car without the brakes.

The taxi groaned to a halt, its engine coughing one last, rattling breath before falling silent. The door clattered open, and Judy stepped out, her boots striking the cracked pavement with a dull, final thud. The air hit her first - a thick, greasy miasma, a bitter blend of motor oil, piss, sweat, and the acrid tang of burning plastics.

Watson always smelled like a waste dump.

She tipped her head back, her gaze climbing the jagged lines of the Megabuilding towering above her, its steel-and-concrete spine stretching into the smog-streaked sky. Neon signs buzzed and flickered weakly, their sickly hues casting fractured shadows against the grimy walls.

She shouldn’t be here. It was stupid. She knew the FIA would’ve torn this place apart the moment Valerie slipped from their grasp. They would’ve cracked every door, swept every corner, ripped apart every hiding place in search of a clue. But still, something irrational, some deep, desperate instinct had pulled her here.

The memories hit her with a force as she stared at the building. She could still feel that night they spent at Val’s apartment etched into her skin, the warmth of Valerie’s body against hers, the slow, steady rhythm of her breathing in the dark. They hadn’t done much, just laid together, tangled in sheets, sleeping through the night. It had felt like the beginning of something - a tentative step into the unknown.

Now, standing here in the shadow of this crumbling giant, it felt more like the beginning of an ending she hadn’t seen coming.

Judy’s jaw tightened as she forced herself to move, her steps quick and purposeful despite the weight in her chest. She ignored the trio of gangoons leaning against a souped-up sports car, their eyes raking over her like predators sizing up a wounded animal. Their catcalls cut through the air, but she kept her head down, her fists clenching and unclenching at her sides. She knew better than to engage. In Night City, hesitation was a weakness, eye contact an invitation. Keep moving. She knew the drill.

At the top of the stairs, a ragged figure slumped against a cracked concrete wall. A vet, or maybe just another burned-out mercenary, his left leg a crude metal prosthetic that clanked and whined with each stiff movement. The joints were rusted, the metal scarred and eroded, a makeshift limb for a man who had long since lost the luxury of care. He cradled a half-empty bottle of cheap booze, his eyes glassy, pupils blown wide with whatever cocktail of chems still coursed through his veins. He turned his head as she passed, his gaze slipping over her without recognition, without curiosity. Just another ghost in a city full of them.

The smell hit her harder as she neared the entrance, the sour stench of rotting garbage and stale urine thickening in the stagnant air. Judy’s stomach twisted, a reflex she fought to suppress. But it wasn’t just the odor. It was the memories connected to this city - each one a wound she’d never quite managed to stitch closed. Faces she’d lost. Choices she’d made. The guilt she wore like a second skin. It was all here, rising like bile in her throat, a reminder of every wound Night City had ever inflicted.

This city had taken so much from her. Friends. Control. Innocence. It had carved pieces from her soul, left her scarred and hardened, a survivor in a place that demanded blood for every inch of progress. And yet, even knowing all of that, she couldn’t walk away. Couldn’t stop herself from coming back here and seeking the woman who had torn her heart to shreds, who had pushed her to the edge only to pull her back, over and over, like some cruel game of tug-of-war.

Valerie had made her feel whole in a way nothing else ever had, like all the broken, jagged pieces of herself fit together when they were close. It was terrifying, exhilarating, and utterly consuming - a love that felt more like a freefall, with no bottom in sight.

Judy’s boots crunched over the debris-strewn floor, the shattered remains of glass and ceramic snapping under her weight like brittle bones. Each step echoed off the cracked, graffiti-smeared walls. Shadows twisted and stretched along the walls, her silhouette warping with every flicker of the dying overhead lights, limbs bending into unnatural shapes. She felt the ghosts here – the muffled sobs of the broken, the bitter, hollow laughter of those who had long given up on dreams. This place was a mausoleum, a tomb for the living and the dead alike.

Something was burning inside her. Fear, not of the dark, not of the potential violence lurking in every shadow, but the deeper, more intimate terror of finding nothing. Of coming all this way, risking everything, only to find that Valerie had slipped through her fingers for good this time. That the woman who had once set her blood on fire, who had shattered her carefully constructed walls with a single cocky grin, was gone forever.

Judy’s pulse hammered in her ears, the rapid, stuttering beat almost deafening in the suffocating stillness. She flexed her fingers, forcing them to unclench, nails leaving half-moon marks on her palms. She hadn’t thought this through. There was no plan, no backup, just a blind, desperate need to follow the fraying thread of Valerie’s absence, wherever it led. It wasn’t like her. Judy wasn’t reckless. Or impulsive. Not since Evie. She was the planner, the careful architect of her own survival, the one who knew when to cut her losses.

But for Valerie, she’d thrown all that away. She had since the moment they met. From the second she’d looked into those storm-gray eyes, seen that crooked, troublemaker’s smirk, she’d been a lost cause. Her defenses had crumbled like wet paper, every instinct screaming at her to run, to protect herself, had gone ignored. And now, after everything - after the lies, the danger, the sleepless nights spent wondering if Valerie was still alive - here she was.

Chasing a ghost. Reckless didn’t even begin to cover it.

Maybe it was stupid, pathetic even, but she couldn’t stop herself. She couldn’t ignore the pull that had rooted itself deep in her chest, a gnawing ache that wouldn’t let her rest until she found Valerie. Or at least some trace of her. What was left of her.

She reached the elevator and tapped the call button, the dull, unresponsive click mocking her urgency. Nothing. Her jaw clenched, a low growl building in her throat as she pressed it again, harder this time, as if sheer force of will could breathe life into the rusted machinery.

A junkie slouched in the corner, his eyes wide and glassy, pupils blown out, fingers curling and uncurling like claws. His head twitched in sharp, erratic jerks, his muttering a fractured, feverish chant to ghosts only he could see. Judy’s pulse stuttered, a cold sweat breaking out along her spine. She knew that look, that frantic, unfocused terror. She’d been that close, once. Closer than she liked to admit.

She bit down on the inside of her cheek, the sharp tang of blood grounding her, cutting through the rising panic. She forced her gaze back to the elevator, willing it to move, to open, to get her the hell out of this hallway that felt more like a trap with every passing second. The noise around her grew sharper, the distant crack of gunfire, the clatter of metal on concrete, the muffled shouts of a fight in some forgotten room. It all pressed in, a suffocating wall of sound that threatened to drown her, to pull her under.

She slammed the button. Finally, with a shuddering groan, the elevator creaked to life, the gears grinding like the last gasps of a dying beast. The doors scraped open with a metallic whine. Judy stepped inside, the thin, flickering bulb overhead buzzing like a trapped fly, the stale, recycled air closing in around her as the doors clanged shut behind her, cutting off the madness outside.

As the lift shuddered upward, each floor passing with a low, rattling vibration, Judy forced herself to breathe. She unclenched her fists, her pulse slowly steadying as she leaned back against the rusted wall. She needed to focus, to find that cold, hard center she’d perfected over years of survival. She needed to be sharp, ready, if she was going to find Valerie.

But what would she find at the end of this journey? Was Valerie even the same person she remembered? The same woman who had whispered promises against her skin, who’d breathed life into Judy’s most broken pieces? Or had too much time, too much pain, twisted her into something unrecognizable, a stranger with Valerie’s face and none of her warmth?

Judy didn’t know. She couldn’t know. And maybe that was the scariest part. Reed and Panam had only given her fragments of the story, jagged edges of truth that barely hinted at the shape of what Val had endured recently.

And maybe that was what had her hands shaking as the elevator came closer to its destination.

The graffiti was unmistakable. A punk stood precariously on the edge of a rooftop, a skinny dog at his side, both caught mid-stride - one foot hovering in the air, as if they were about to step into nothing. Into oblivion. Unaware or just foolhardy.

Judy stared up at it, unable to take her eyes off it. The colors were still loud - bold slashes of paint that hadn’t dulled with time, still crackling with defiance.

It was almost cruel, how fitting it was. Valerie, the girl who never hesitated. Who threw herself at danger like it was a lover she couldn’t resist. Who burned too bright and never once looked down to see how far she might fall. And Judy, always chasing that fire. Even when it scorched. Like a moth to a flame.

She stood before the mural for a long moment, unmoving. Then her gaze dropped to the door.

It was hanging crooked on its hinges, swollen and splintered along one edge like something had hit it hard. A bone snapped the wrong way. One more blow and it would cave in. But the real damage lay behind it. She could feel it, even before she stepped inside.

Judy hesitated on the threshold, dread seeping through the soles of her boots and into her bones. The dark yawned before her like a wound. The place had always been messy - Valerie’s type of mess, meaning clothes draped over chairs, sink full of dirty plates, and cluttered corners. Her own brand of disarray. But this wasn’t that. This was different. This was devastation. This was a message.

She stepped forward, the crunch of shattered glass beneath her boot loud enough to make her flinch. The apartment was a ruin. The furniture lay strewn like corpses on a battlefield - splintered wood, torn cushions, stuffing ripped out and strewn like snowdrifts. The air was stale with dust and something sourer beneath it, the stink of intrusion. The walls bore the marks of violence, deep gouges raked through plaster like claws or combat knives. No pattern, no precision - just rage.

Judy’s chest tightened. This had FIA written all over it - Myers’ black-bag bastards, sniffing through the wreckage of Valerie’s life. After information. Or leverage. Or her. It wasn’t a robbery. This had been personal. A hunt.

Her stomach tightened as her gaze swept across the ruin. Then - something in the corner of her eye. The wardrobe, half-collapsed, its door twisted open. Clothes scattered like debris, most of them slashed or soaked in filth. But one thing still hung inside.

A jacket.

The sight of it punched the air from her lungs. She knew it immediately, even before her fingers reached for it. The leather was cracked, the black dulled from years of wear. The old Samurai logo snarled from the back, faded but proud, crimson fangs bared like it still remembered how to bite. Valerie’s jacket. The same one she wore the night they kissed at the pier.

Judy reached out, her fingers brushing the sleeve. It was heavier than she remembered. She brought it to her face and inhaled - searching, hoping for the scent that lived in her memory. Smoke and sandalwood, and sweat and something warm, something that had always just been Valerie.

But it was gone. Only the hollow smell of old leather and dust remained. Her throat clenched. Grief came not like a scream but a slow, creeping thing, winding through her chest and curling around her ribs. She pressed the jacket to her chest, holding it like a body she couldn't resurrect. Maybe if she just clung tight enough, Valerie might walk through the door again. Might say her name the way only she could.

But the silence didn’t break.

With numb fingers, Judy slid her arms into the sleeves. The leather swallowed her. The hem brushed her thighs, and the collar sat wide around her neck. It was too big, the shape all wrong - but somehow, it felt more like armor than anything she’d worn since the day Valerie disappeared. She zipped it up slowly, the teeth of it catching once before sliding home with a soft click.

It didn’t bring warmth, not really. But it was something. A piece of her. Still here. Still fighting to be remembered.

Judy’s eyes swept the room again, methodically, like she was scanning a crime scene. She took in every shard of glass and every broken object, each trace of violence etched into the walls like a silent accusation. A tightness crept up her throat, bitter and unyielding, but she forced it down, clenching her jaw until it ached. She couldn’t afford to fall apart. Not here. Not yet. Too many questions still hung in the air like smoke - unanswered, unformed, dangerous. She had to understand what had happened, why this place had been torn open like a wound - and whether any trace of Valerie still lingered within it.

Her gaze drifted, almost unwillingly, to door on the right side - or what was left of it. The second room. The one Valerie had kept locked. Judy stopped breathing for a moment, her pulse faltering as she stared at the glittering shards of broken glass spilled like crushed stars across the floor.

Valerie used to dodge questions about this room with soft smiles and vague deflections. Judy had let it slide, had chosen to respect that invisible boundary without really knowing what it meant. Now, in the aftermath, that silence felt like a warning she should have heeded. Her gut twisted, cold and sharp. She had a better idea now of the kind of work Valerie might’ve kept hidden there.

The walls looked stripped bare, the sleek weapon displays empty and abandoned. The stash cabinets hung open like gutted corpses, their contents spilled out in a chaos of wires, shattered devices, broken inhalers, and bits of clothing - torn, scorched, forgotten. Bullet casings littered the corners. Glass glittered like ice. It looked like someone had gone through it in a frenzy, tearing everything apart in search of something. Or someone.

And then she saw it.

Low to the ground, almost hidden in the tangle of debris, lay a dark stain. At first, it barely registered. Just another shadow among many. But as her eyes adjusted, Judy’s breath caught in her chest. The mark spread outward in a violent bloom across the carpet, its heart still a dull rust-red, even as the edges faded to brown.

Her body went still. The color, the shape - it wasn’t grime. It was blood.

Her knees felt weak. She didn’t want to believe it, but she couldn’t look away. The stain sat like a wound in the room’s center, an ugly truth carved into the floor. Judy stood motionless, breathing shallow, her thoughts scattering like leaves in a storm. The coppery scent still lingered beneath the dust - faint, metallic, unmistakable. She’d scrubbed blood before. She had rubbed her bathtub clean. She remembered the way it clung to everything, the way it dried like regret.

But here, in this room, in this apartment, it felt different. Because it wasn’t just blood. It was Valerie’s blood. It had to be.

She took a tentative step closer, the crunch of glass under her boots the only sound in the room. Judy knelt down, the tremble in her hand barely controlled as she reached toward the edge of the stain. She didn’t touch it. She couldn’t. Just hovered there, as if the proximity might offer answers. Might connect her to the moment everything had gone wrong.

What had happened here? Who had been involved? Had she tried to fight? Had she lost too much blood? Was she still alive? Was she still somewhere out there?

The questions came in waves, each one crashing against her chest with the force of a blow. There were too many to hold, and none offered any comfort. Judy stared at the stain like it might answer her. Like it might whisper something back. Tell her where to go. What to believe.

Her heart beat a bruised rhythm in her chest, a sound too loud, too real. But beneath the rising panic, beneath the ache that clenched around her ribs like a vice, something endured - a stubborn, fragile thread of hope. Valerie was tough. She had always been too damn stubborn to die easy. Judy clung to that thought like a lifeline. Even if the blood told another story. Even if the silence in this room screamed louder than any goodbye.

She closed her eyes. Inhaled deep. Tried not to drown in the weight of the not-knowing.

Then the shift came - abrupt and violent.

The nausea hit her like a freight train. Her stomach twisted as if trying to wrench itself free. She stumbled upright, took couple steps back, legs shaky and frantic beneath her. The world was suddenly spinning too fast. She reached out blindly, her hand slapping against cold metal instead of a rough wall. Her palm slid across something smooth - a panel, an intercom - and there was a soft, mechanical click.

Judy blinked. Her vision swam.

“What the—?” she muttered under her breath.

One of the weapon displays groaned softly, then slid aside. Behind it, a hidden compartment yawned open. The sickness evaporated in a blink, leaving her heart pounding for an entirely different reason, replaced by the sharp, electric jolt of adrenaline. Confusion battled against instinct, but instinct won. She moved - her legs unsteady but determined.

An envelope waited for her, laid neatly like someone had taken care to leave it just so. Her fingers trembled as she tore it open, too clumsy to bother with finesse. The contents spilled out onto the metal table with a soft clatter - paper and plastic, innocuous at first glance.

A letter and a small object. It felt like a déjà vu.

The air changed around her. Her hands shook as she reached for the small electronic device. Smooth. Clean. Not a SIM card, not a pendrive - nothing she recognized. And yet it hummed with potential, like it might detonate in her hands if she wasn’t careful. Like it held all the answers. She turned it over between her fingers, light catching on the edges. Then, with a quiet exhale, she slid it into the inside pocket of her jacket. Whatever secrets it held, she'd find a way to crack it open later.

Her gaze fell next to the folded page. The letter. Her hand hovered for a second, a breath away. Then she snatched it up, unfolded it with a sharp flick, and let her eyes race across the lines.

Coming here wasn’t smart, Jude. You promised me you wouldn’t be reckless.
There’s still time to turn back and run. I wouldn’t hold it against you.
But if you want to find me, the shard explains it all. I’ll be waiting.
I’ll do everything in my power to keep you safe.

The words hit like a fist to the gut. Her fingers tightened around the paper. She read it again, slower this time, letting each word settle deep.

Judy smiled, small and solemn, the kind of smile that only comes when you know that the path ahead is carved in fire and still, you take the first step. She had made her choice a long time ago.

The cold caught her off guard. The moment Judy stepped out of the Megabuilding, it wrapped around her, slipping beneath the collar of Valerie’s jacket. She paused at the bottom of the concrete steps and hitched her backpack higher. Her fingers, already numbing, curled the borrowed jacket tighter around her frame, tugging it like a shield against the world.

Her thoughts were a knot of static, tangled with half-sketched plans and frayed ideas, all circling the one thing she couldn’t ignore - the device burning a phantom hole through the lining of her pocket. Too light to be anything but a shard of silicon, circuitry and plastic. But it was warm with implication. Dense with secrets.

Memory chip. It had to be. Encrypted, almost definitely. Possibly locked behind tech too new or too niche to crack easily. There had to be someone hidden in the remains of her past who can help. A ghost from the bad old days. A hacker with shaky ethics. An old friend turned recluse. Someone who owed her. Or someone who could be bought. She just had to find them. Fast.

She turned a corner into a narrow street where flickering holograms cast broken light across the concrete, fractured rainbows dancing on grime-stained walls.

And that’s when it hit her - a low, icy pulse at the base of her spine. She was being watched.

Judy didn’t stop. Didn’t twitch. Didn’t give them the satisfaction of knowing she’d felt it. But her head turned just slightly, scanning the crowd through neon haze and glitch-light, reading the city’s edges the way a diver reads a riptide. Everything looked like it had been scrubbed through bad code. Glowed and warped in colors too bright, too unnatural. Faces blurred, flickered in and out of shadow, like actors caught mid-blink.

A kid screamed obscenities at a strung-out junkie. A corporate rat in a frayed suit stalked past, spitting orders into a phone. Somewhere behind her, a couple collapsed into each other, gasping like they hadn’t touched another human being in years.

Nobody obvious. No one stood still. No one stared.

And yet the sensation only deepened. Eyes. She could sense them. Felt the skin along her shoulders tighten, that animal instinct twisting in her gut. Someone was there. Watching. Or waiting.

Her hand, acting on instinct, drifted toward her pocket - toward that sliver of tech. It might be a map. A breadcrumb. An explanation. It might lead her straight to Valerie - or lead someone else right behind her. FIA would want it. Of course they would. And if they still had eyes on her - and she was starting to believe they always did - then it wouldn’t take much. One wrong move, one mistake, one lapse in judgment, and they’d be on Val like corrosion on chrome.

She couldn’t let that happen. Wouldn’t.

Judy’s jaw clenched. She exhaled slow, through the nose, measured and taut. Then she moved. Her boots rang out on the rust-eaten steps as she descended into the lower street. Shadows swallowed her whole. The neon buzz faded behind her, replaced by a subtler chorus - a detuned guitar drifting from a cracked speaker, a laugh that sounded like it had nowhere left to go, wind snaking through forgotten alleys.

She kept walking. Step after step, the rhythm of her boots matched the cadence of her pulse - steady, but rising.

She took a sharp left, slipped through a long-dead basketball court and stepped over a rusted fence barely holding itself together. Another turn, tighter this time, into a corridor choked with broken vending machines and the stink of piss and coolant.

Names tumbled through her mind like loose data. Contacts. Friends. Or what was left of them. Most were long gone. Some disappeared. Some dead. The rest might as well be. She needed someone smart. Quiet. Untraceable. And she needed them yesterday. Her thoughts looped, glitching on the same question over and over - who could she still trust?

She turned again, walking into a narrow tunnel under the road, boots scuffing against wet concrete. Her breath came faster now. No footsteps behind her. Nothing but the faint slap of dripping pipes. But that was the point, wasn’t it? Whoever it was, they knew how to keep distance.

She cut across an intersection, then ducked into another narrow passageway, another dark alley. Quick glance behind her - still no sign of tail - but her gut didn’t buy it. They were watching. She knew they were. So, at the next turn, she picked up her pace. Not a sprint. A bleed into movement, one that looked casual but wasn’t. Another corner - sharper this time - then another. She turned one more time, stepping onto the edge of the main avenue just as it happened.

The engine's growl came from nowhere - deep, sudden and animal, like a wolf breaking cover. Tires shrieked across slick pavement, a snarl of rubber and oil and intent. Judy turned instinctively just as the matte-black, armored SUV swerved into view, stopping inches from her. Its doors yawned open before she could react.

They poured out - three of them, clad in dark tactical armor that drank the light, ghost-blue optics glowing faintly from their helmets. Militech. The name was printed bold across their vests, white letters so sterile and sharp they might as well have been the words on her gravestone.

Her body moved before her mind caught up. She spun, feet slipping against the cracked pavement, bolting on raw instinct. But she didn’t make it more than two clumsy strides before a blunt force slammed into her ribs. It was like being hit by a brick wall - air ripped from her lungs, pain blooming sharp beneath her skin. She hit the ground on one knee, coughing, eyes watering. Still, she fought. Lashed out. Her elbow connected with something - bone? helmet? jaw? - and there was a muffled grunt.

She scrambled, desperate to rise, but another hand found her arm, yanked it back and twisted with cruel precision. Pain, blinding and immediate. Her vision blurred as she gasped through gritted teeth. She still managed to hit someone else, a desperate swing that landed somewhere soft. He swore, low and venomous, but didn’t let go. Instead, he twisted her arm even harder, forcing her down.

“Get the fuck off me!” she shrieked, her voice raw and feral.

Her mouth found a wrist and she bit down, tasting the tang of sweat, gunpowder and machine oil. The soldier hissed but didn’t loosen his grip. Another grabbed her legs. She thrashed wildly, like a caught animal, fury and terror making her limbs jerk harder than thought alone ever could. She kicked, scratched, screamed. But they were too many. Too coordinated. Too prepared. A lifetime playing soccer had made her tough, made her mean, but this - this wasn’t some street brawl. This was planned.

A hand clamped over her mouth. Her scream died in her throat. Her legs kicked into empty air, fists striking at armored chests and helmets that barely reacted. She felt her body lift, dragged backward, heels scraping uselessly against concrete. She wasn’t a person to them - just cargo. A package.

A few passersby watched from the edges of the street - wary, furtive, and then gone. Nobody intervened. Nobody wanted to cross Militech. That name alone turned even Night City’s most hardened bastards into obedient dogs. They saw, they heard, and then they chose to forget. She wasn’t happening.

They shoved her into the back of the SUV, the heavy, reinforced door slamming shut behind her. Her fists lashed out again, connecting with the chest of the man beside her. Useless. Another soldier sat across from her, one climbed into the driver’s seat. The doors sealed with a hydraulic hiss. The space felt suffocating, too tight, like being lowered into a crypt.

She opened her mouth to scream, to curse, to demand an explanation, but then she saw her.

Meredith Stout. Perfect posture, one leg elegantly crossed over the other. Black suit tailored within an inch of its life, stilettos polished to a shine. Her gaze was ice, calm and cold, tracking Judy like a shark might study a bleeding swimmer. Her lips curled into a small, unreadable smile - not kind, not cruel. Just calculated.

Judy’s blood turned to ice.

“What the fuck,” she spat, writhing in the soldier’s grip. “The hell is this, Stout? What—why—what the fuck is happenin’?”

She barely had time to finish the thought before everything went sideways. The soldier beside her moved with surgical calm. A silenced pistol appeared in his hand. Two quiet thuds. The man across from her slumped forward without a word, a dark bloom spreading across his chest. Up front, the driver twitched violently, his blood smearing the armored windshield like spilled wine.

Judy froze. Her scream caught in her throat.

The shooter kicked the bodies from the car like discarded props. A moment later, he climbed into the front, gunned the engine, and the SUV tore off into the depths of the city, a wraith swallowed by Night City’s chaos.

Stout didn’t flinch. Not once. Her expression didn’t shift. Not even a blink as warm blood trickled down the inner paneling. She simply turned to Judy, graceful as a cat, and placed a hand on her knee.

It wasn’t comforting. It burned.

“I’ll explain everything at the safehouse,” she said, her voice smooth and measured, the tone of someone accustomed to getting what she wanted. “Too dangerous to talk here. Trust me. You’re safe now.”

Judy stared at her. Her lungs moved, but no air seemed to reach them. Her shoulder throbbed in time with her racing pulse. Her skin itched with adrenaline, her body screaming for action, for escape, for exit route - but there was none. The car kept moving. The doors stayed locked.

Safe? Nothing about this was safe. Not the corpses they left behind. Not the blood dripping in slow rivulets across the floor. And definitely not the woman smiling beside her, composed and untouchable, as if murder was just a line item on her evening agenda.

Judy didn’t know if this was a kidnapping or a rescue, if she’d just been freed from something worse or dragged into something darker. Her mind raced, desperately trying to connect the dots, to make sense of the chaos. But the pieces didn’t fit. Not yet.

Chapter Text

-- II --

The Signpost
Oh, gimme some time. Show me the foothold from which I can climb.
Yeah, when I feel low you show me a signpost for where I should go.

Exactly ten minutes later, the SUV slowed to a crawling stop. Outside the window, the docks sprawled like a graveyard of industry - massive rust-bitten containers stacked in crooked rows, their faded paint peeling like old scabs. Shadows danced long and sharp, distorted by the hiss of wind and the far-off cries of gulls. Somewhere beyond, waves slapped against the pylons in slow, exhausted rhythm. The air reeked of salt, rust, and old oil - like something that had long ago died and never been buried.

Judy stepped out onto the uneven concrete, the crunch of her boots swallowed by the vast emptiness around them. She kept close to Meredith, though her instincts prickled with unease. The driver - the same soldier who’d executed the guards without flinching - strode ahead of them. He said nothing, offered no glance back, just jerked his head for them to follow, his hand never far from the weapon holstered by his hip.

Judy’s heart thumped steadily, each beat sharp with tension. She didn’t know what she was walking into. She didn’t know if Valerie was here. Or if this was some elaborate trap. And now that she was this far in, there was no turning back.

They came to a stop in front of a container painted a dark blue, the metal chipped and streaked with rust. The driver crouched near the side, his gloved fingers tapping out a sequence on a small, barely-visible panel embedded in the wall. A second later, with a groan that echoed across the still yard, the container door cracked open, revealing a yawning blackness inside.

Meredith turned and glanced at her, the barest flicker of something human softening her sharp features - reassurance, maybe. Or pity. It vanished before Judy could decide which one it was. Then Stout stepped inside.

Judy hesitated. Her stomach twisted, her body half-ready to bolt, but logic kept her feet rooted. There was no one to call. No place to run. Whatever game this was, she was already playing. She clenched her jaw, stepped forward, and crossed the threshold. The door slammed shut behind them with a thunderous clang, the kind that vibrated through bone. Darkness swallowed everything.

Judy froze. Her hand reached out instinctively and met the cold, ridged metal wall. Her breath came quick and shallow, chest rising and falling as her eyes strained in vain against the black. A low whir hummed to life beneath her boots. Somewhere above, hidden mechanisms stirred to life. Suddenly - white light. Brutal and unexpected, it burst on overhead, stabbing into her eyes. She winced, one arm shielding her face as her vision blurred from the shock.

And then she felt it - the slow, imperceptible shudder of motion beneath her feet. It was an elevator.

Judy let out a slow breath, tension seeping from her shoulders, though not disappearing. Her nerves still buzzed, alert and high-strung. The platform groaned around them as it descended, metal creaking like it resented every inch it had to move. No one spoke. There was only the sound of machinery and the frantic rhythm of her own pulse thudding in her ears.

It wasn’t a long ride, but it felt like it. Finally, the platform came to a stop with a hiss. Doors slid open. Judy stepped out and froze. The shift in atmosphere was so jarring it felt like whiplash. Moments ago, they were surrounded by rust and grime. Now, she found herself inside what could only be described as a high-end corporate bunker masquerading as a safehouse. The sterile air hummed with quiet power.

The space around her gleamed. Reinforced steel panels lined the walls, their matte finish absorbing the light rather than reflecting it. A sleek kitchen sat in one corner, all clean granite and warm wood. The living area stretched wide, anchored by low-slung couches and a thick rug underfoot. In the corner stood a queen-sized bed, crisply made with charcoal-gray sheets that looked like they’d never known sleep. A massive screen glowed on the far wall, muted footage playing out in ghostly silence. Rolling headlines flashed beneath a grainy news feed - another scandal, another fire, another war.

But Judy barely registered it. Her eyes swept the space, hunting for something else - for someone. It was too quiet. Val wasn’t here.

Her pulse kicked harder, something hot and restless stirring in her chest. The safehouse might’ve looked like luxury, but to Judy it felt like a stage set - controlled, curated, designed to keep her in one place. She was trapped. In this kind of place where someone else pulled the strings. No one would be able to find her here.

Meredith had already made herself at home, her jacket draped across a chair, moving around the kitchen. She stopped by the island, arms crossed, a slow, smug smile playing on her lips. “You want something to drink?” she asked, her tone maddeningly conversational, as if they weren’t buried god-knows-how-deep in a corporate vault.

Judy didn’t answer. Her mind was still catching up, stuck halfway between the muzzle flash of earlier and the velvet silence of this place. She didn’t move, didn’t breathe too deep. Every instinct screamed trap. Her eyes scanned the corners, the shadows, the space around her. She wanted to demand answers, to grab Meredith by the throat and shake the truth loose - but her voice hadn’t caught up to her rage yet.

“C’mon, Alvy,” Stout coaxed, pouring herself a drink without waiting. “Beer? Water? Something stronger?”

Judy’s jaw tightened. Her hands curled into fists at her sides, nails biting into her palms. She looked at Meredith and finally found her voice - rough, splintered with adrenaline and confusion. “Just tell me what the fuck is going on.”

Meredith gave a short laugh, not cruel, but close. She leaned against the counter, eyes flicking toward Judy with amused detachment.

“You’re safe.”

“Am I?” Judy snapped. “’Cause your guy just mowed down a squad like it was a goddamn drill. Executed them. So, forgive me if I’m not feeling real fucking safe right now.” Her voice was shaking, but it didn’t stop her. “Why am I here, Mer? Where the hell is Valerie? Why are we hiding in some fancy Ritz-lookin’ bunker?”

“They were Myers’ dogs,” Meredith replied, casually pouring whiskey into a second glass. “Thought they hit the jackpot when I told the driver to stop and handed over the order to grab you. Poor bastards figured a bit too late it wasn’t a routine pick-up. Had to take them out. If we didn’t, they’d have called it in. And then this whole place would’ve been crawling with Myers’ hounds before we even closed the damn door.”

She slid the other glass towards Judy, but the smaller woman didn’t take the bait. She watched her, frozen.

“We’re lucky she's too busy following breadcrumbs left by Bakker,” she continued. “Far North, far away. They’ll figure it out at some point, but I bought you guys some time.”

Judy barely heard the rest. One word echoed through her skull, cutting through the haze. At the mention of Val’s name her heart involuntary jumped, sharp and immediate, like a thread had been plucked straight through her ribs.

“Where is she?” she asked, quieter now.

“Not here.”

“No shit,” Judy hissed. The edge in her voice came back, serrated with fear. “I’m not playing games, Mer. Just fuckin’ tell me.”

Meredith sighed and took a sip of her whiskey. “But that’s exactly what we’re all doing, Alvy. Playing games. Because you? You’re a pawn. A perfect, precious pawn in Myers and Bakker’s little war.”

“Meredith, please—”

“You should be grateful,” Stout cut in, swirling the last remnants of amber in her glass. Her voice was sharp, almost bored. “Myers is a fool—and that’s the only reason you’re still breathing. She’s too scared, too sentimental. A joke of a President, really.”

Judy didn’t answer. She couldn’t. Her tongue felt like sandpaper against her teeth, her throat thick and dry, every thought wrapped in a slow, creeping fog.

“You want to know Myers’ fatal flaw?” Stout went on, her tone deceptively casual, like they were trading gossip over drinks. “She keeps playing the same hand. Same joker. Same tired trick. She still believes the long game’s worth a damn. But Bakker?” A slight twist of her lips. It wasn’t quite a smile. “Bakker’s the one rewriting the rules. She sees every move before it’s made. I’ll give you an example—you’ve had a tail on you since the second you landed in the States. That wasn’t sloppiness. It was by design. Bakker let it happen—because it meant you weren’t in immediate danger.”

Judy’s breath caught halfway up her throat. Her skin turned to ice, cold crawling over her arms, slow and insistent.

“Myers couldn’t use you outright,” Meredith continued, now clinical, dissecting facts like muscle from bone. “Couldn’t lock you up, parade you around like bait. Not when Bakker’s got leverage. Not when Myers was terrified of her. Of the thing she created.” She leaned forward slightly, her voice dropping an octave. “Because make no mistake—she is scared. Bakker’s dangerous when she’s focused. And if someone touched you? If someone took away the one thing Bakker cares about?” Her eyes sharpened, cold steel behind calm waters. “That would make her very, very focused.”

A pit opened inside Judy’s stomach, slow and heavy. The kind of dread that didn’t hit like a slap - it sank, deep and leaden, taking everything else with it.

“That’s why no one snatched you up, Alvy.” Meredith downed the rest of her drink in one slow swallow, then set the glass down with a soft clink, a full stop to everything that came before. “They let you wander. Left a shadow on your back and waited. Thought maybe you’d lead them to her.”

Judy stared at her, unable to speak. The silence between them swelled until it roared in her ears. There had always been that faint sense - an itch between her shoulder blades, a tension in her spine. It hadn’t been paranoia. It had been a truth she hadn’t wanted to name. Reed was gone. Maddie, too. She was sure of that. And yet something had lingered. A presence. An unease. She’d ignored it, told herself she was imagining things. But now, it all slotted into place.

“And you almost did,” Stout added quietly. No boast, no drama. Just fact. And somehow, that calm acknowledgment carved deeper than any threat could.

She hadn’t been moving freely at all. Not since Barcelona. She’d been led - each step, each wrong turn, part of someone else's carefully mapped path. Judy felt the world tilt beneath her, vertigo rising from the pit of her stomach.

“Is that why you grabbed me?” she asked, her tone somewhere between a growl and a plea. “To save me from Myers’ dogs? To stop me from leading them to Val?” A beat. Her voice dropped, bitter. The fury came hot and fast now, melting the ice in her chest. “Bull-fuckin’-shit! Everyone’s playing a game. Everyone’s got an angle. You’ve got one too, don’t you? What is this, huh? You making bait out of me? Selling me out to whoever pays the most?”

Stout didn’t flinch. She unfolded her arms slowly, like a lion stretching in the sun, and met Judy’s gaze with an expression that walked the line between admiration and calculation. Her chin tilted with a measured grace, and that thin, practiced smile slid across her face like a blade. She was deciding whether or not Judy deserved the truth.

“You’re clever,” she said at last. “But not quite clever enough.”

The floorboards creaked under her boots as she took a step forward. “You remember that morning after the finals? When I barged into your bathroom to chat with Bakker?”

Judy’s eyes narrowed, the memory vivid even after all this time. “What about it?”

“We talked. And it wasn’t about the fucking weather. That was the moment I figured it out—she wasn’t just some pretty face. She’d been shadowing me for months. I was the job. Her previous mission. She was supposed to monitor me, bug my place during that end-of-season party, keep Myers in the loop.”

“I know,” Judy said quietly. The words came flat, lifeless.

Meredith’s smile curled, brittle at the corners. There was no triumph in it, just exhaustion and something mean lurking beneath the surface. “Of course you do. At least parts of it. But here’s what you don’t know—she needed someone who wouldn’t hesitate, wouldn’t flinch. Someone with reach. With power. Someone Myers wouldn’t touch without a memo signed in blood.”

She let the silence stretch, let it grow heavy.

“So,” Stout continued, “we made a deal. I’d keep tabs on you. Be her failsafe, her warning bell if things went sideways. Watch your back. Make sure you didn’t burn in the crossfire. And in return…” Her voice dipped into something that wasn’t quite regret. “Let’s just say I got a shot. At something bigger.”

Judy stiffened, her pulse ticking faster. “Did you see her?”

“Yeah.” Meredith’s eyes softened, just a fraction. “Briefly. Albuquerque. She looked… ruined. Didn’t trust me enough to help her get back into Night City. Disappeared soon after.”

Judy’s jaw tightened, emotion coiling beneath her skin.

“But now?” Meredith went on, her tone shifting again, quiet now. “She’s changed her mind about trust. She reached out. Said she knew you were coming back. Told me she’d uphold her end of the deal—but only if I kept you safe. That was the condition. I’m on your side, Alvy.”

Judy’s voice came out like a frayed wire - barely holding. “What was her part?”

Meredith didn’t smirk. Instead, she just looked at Judy, eyes shadowed, as though she was counting the weight of every lie she’d carried. She looked tired - no, more than that. She looked like someone who’d been living in the eye of a storm for far too long.

Judy held her breath, watching the silence stretch, braced for half-truth. Then Meredith snatched the remote. With a sharp click, the volume climbed. The news anchor’s voice came through, clipped and tense.

“—leaked footage reveals President Rosalind Myers in a closed briefing following the collapse of Operation Blackbird, reportedly a covert engagement in Brazil. The documents we received confirm the mission was designed to fabricate a diplomatic crisis—an excuse for military intervention in Venezuela. But it was a failure, and the President decided to proceed with a backup plan.”

Judy didn’t blink. Didn’t breathe. Brazil. Songbird’s betrayal. Valerie almost dying.

The screen jumped - image cut to grainy, time-stamped bodycam footage. A room, concrete-walled and windowless. Underground, probably. Myers sat centered in the frame like a spider in her web, flanked by brass-faced generals who might as well have been statues.

Her voice came next, clearer than it should’ve been, low and surgical. “We lost contact with her. We must proceed with contingency plan. Relocate the device to Phoenix, set the timer for 1200 tomorrow. Ensure the media attributes it to Venezuelan radicals. Once the narrative is secure, we move on Site Delta.”

Judy’s stomach turned to stone. The world shifted beneath her, tilting, cracking.

There it was. The curtain pulled back, the machinery exposed - gears soaked in blood and spinning smooth. This wasn’t just sabotage. It was exposure. This was the secret Myers had tried to bury deep, the one she’d killed to keep hidden. And Val had unearthed it, dragged it snarling into daylight. A sitting president, orchestrating terror on her own soil, her own people. Manufacturing a war out of smoke and corpses - for oil, influence, control or whatever currency empires ran on these days.

And Valerie had lit the fuse.

She’d waited. Waited until Judy was out of the blast zone, hidden, safe. And then she’d struck. Not with bullets or bombs, but with the truth - sharpened to a knife’s edge. The kind of truth that couldn’t be unseen.

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ,” Judy whispered, her voice barely rising over the hum of the flatscreen. Her throat clenched. “That terrorist attack four years ago…”

Phoenix. Almost a hundred innocent people wiped out in an instant. An explosion blamed on some vague, foreign enemy. War started right after the attack, army deployed within minutes. Judy remembered the news footage - rubble, flames, a child’s sneaker buried in dust. And it had all been staged. Signed off by Myers herself. Engineered by their own President.

Judy’s breath caught as nausea rolled through her, bile and disbelief rising together.

And now Val had thrown herself onto the pyre to reveal it. Made herself the most wanted woman in the world. A pariah. There would be no forgiveness for this. No safehouse deep enough. Myers would want her reduced to ash. To make an example out of her.

But then she realized something. Would Myers have enough power to reach Valerie? After this leak the world might not be hers to command anymore. Maybe the machine was finally stopping. Maybe she was already falling. Judy clung to that fragile sliver of possibility. If Meredith had been telling the truth - about her influence, her network, her protection - maybe they still had a chance. She knew it was a razor-thin hope. A desperate gamble. But there was nothing else she could do.

Then came another thought, one that coiled in her mind like smoke before a firestorm. Meredith hadn’t just stumbled into this. She’d been part of it from the start. Not a pawn. Not a random piece on the blood-soaked chessboard. A player. She’d been Myers’ mission for Valerie. Surveillance went back more than a year. The web stretched farther than Judy wanted to imagine, and at the center of it - Stout. Not trapped in it. Spinning it.

Her voice cracked open the silence like a match-strike. “Why?” she asked. “Why bring down Myers? Why push Val to do it? And what the fuck does the FIA want with you?”

Meredith didn’t flinch. She laughed, but it wasn’t joy. More like something breaking apart at the edges, a glass cracking under pressure. The sound echoed around the room, bouncing off steel and concrete like it didn’t belong to any living person. Her eyes shone - not with amusement, but with something colder, calculated, dangerous. She took a step closer. The air changed. The scent of her hit Judy all at once - magnolia and musk layered over scorched metal, old money, ambition. Fire. Everything about her radiated power barely leashed.

“Because, Judy,” she said, her voice low and precise, “I’m not just some corpo brat with a death wish.”

She stopped inches away, eyes locking onto hers. There was no hesitation in her gaze. No room for doubt.

“I’m going to be the next President of the New United States.”

The silence that followed was thick enough to drown in. Judy stared at her, the words hanging there, too surreal to land. She blinked, once. Then again. Her lips parted but no sound came. It felt absurd. Surreal. Like someone had just pulled a pin on a grenade and set it gently on the table between them.

President. It was lunacy. It sounded like the punchline to a cruel joke, the kind whispered by an assassin right before they pulled a trigger. A dry laugh escaped Judy’s throat, stiff and disbelieving. She didn’t mean to let it out, but it was the only thing that made sense.

Images flashed in her mind - a cruel carousel of sterile boardrooms and polished smiles, the kind that never reached the eyes. Men and women in tailored suits with vacant expressions, their faces powdered, and their words rehearsed, their hands slick with bloody deals signed behind closed doors. They spoke in practiced cadences, sold futures like stock, and lied so well they forgot they were lying.

Meredith wasn’t like them. She didn’t fit the mold. Not exactly.

She came from the military, not the cocktail circuit. Enlisted while she was a teenager. Started her soccer career with delay, in her mid-twenties. She’d seen blood up close, spilled it with her own hands and ordered it spilled with the same precision. She knew violence like other people knew diplomacy. There was a gravity to that. A weight that couldn’t be faked or polished away.

People didn’t agree on what Stout was - patriot, tyrant, brute - but they knew her name. And more than that, they feared it. Some even revered it. That silver medal gleaming from her chest, the victory at World’s - it wasn’t just a win. It was myth-making. A carefully sculpted eruption of national pride.

Stout wasn’t built for that stage, wasn’t a politician, but maybe that’s what made her terrifyingly viable. Maybe she was something worse. Something sharper. Maybe that was the key. Maybe it could work. As long as Meredith was the one holding the leash - and not Militech. Because if it was the other way around… they'd all burn for it.

Judy swallowed hard. When she finally spoke, her voice came low, rough - sandpaper over silk, tempered by exhaustion. “Christ. I guess worse people have parked their ass in that chair.”

Meredith smiled. Not softly, not with comfort. It wasn’t meant to reassure. It curled slow and thin across her face like the edge of a blade, the kind of expression worn by someone who already knew the end of the story and was just waiting for everyone else to catch up.

Judy reached for the glass. She didn’t sip - it was too late for that. Instead, she knocked it back in three clean swallows, the burn of it carving a path down her throat, punishing and welcome. She leaned forward, bracing her elbows on the counter, arms folding tight across her chest like she could hold herself together by sheer force.

“So,” Judy started, voice steady despite the tightness coiled in her spine. “What now? Where do we start looking for her?”

Meredith didn’t answer right away. Instead, she poured again, the bottle making a low glug as it filled the mismatched glasses. She slid one back toward Judy without looking up, her attention fixed on the swirl in her own, like it might reveal some secret she hadn’t yet extracted from the bottom of the glass.

“It’s dangerous,” she said at last. “You should stay put. You’re safe here. Bakker knows you’re with me. She wouldn’t have leaked that footage otherwise. She’ll reach out when she’s ready.”

It was calm. Almost too calm. A statement dressed just neatly enough in plausibility to feel like a lie. Like a leash disguised as advice. And lately, Judy had learned how to recognize the tremor behind confident tones, that slight catch in the breath, the pause that lasted just a fraction too long. She had grown fluent in betrayal - fluent enough to hear it echo under Meredith’s carefully measured voice.

But Judy had nowhere else to go. She had to trust Meredith won’t fuck her over. Won’t fuck them over.

Judy had no leads, no clues, no trail left to follow – except… except the tiny thing nestled in her jacket pocket. She’d nearly forgotten it was there. A sliver of metal and plastic, small and weightless but suddenly impossible to ignore. She pulled it out and laid it gently on the counter between them.

“Do you know what this is?”

Meredith’s gaze flicked to it. Her expression held, but only barely. Judy saw the crack, quick and faint. The flicker of recognition that passed through her eyes like a shutter click. It was enough.

“Where’d you get that?” Meredith’s voice was tight now. Too tight.

Judy didn’t flinch. “Does it matter? Just tell me what it is.”

Meredith reached forward. She was fast, but Judy was faster. Reflexes honed on a different kind of battlefield - cleats and turf and blood beneath fingernails - served her well. She snatched the shard back and closed her hand around it, her stare never breaking.

Meredith’s jaw tightened. When she spoke again, her tone was measured once more. “It’s a data shard… Think of it like a flash drive, but with a straight connection to your brain. Depends on what’s inside—could be raw data, sure, but could just as easily be a virus, or an override protocol. Or black-market soulware. Maybe even another Relic.”

Judy’s stomach clenched. Her fingers curled tighter around it. Valerie had given it to her. She wouldn’t have if it was a threat.

Her voice dropped to a whisper, almost to herself. “How do I read what’s on it?”

“It could be dang—”

“Meredith.” Judy cut her off with steel in her voice now, no room left for caution. “How?”

Meredith’s expression flickered again. She hesitated, but only for a breath. “You don’t have a neural port. Those are restricted. Military-grade. But…” A pause. “There should be a reader in the server room.”

Judy nodded slowly, the weight of the shard pulsing in her palm like a secret trying to surface. Her heartbeat quickened - not with fear, but with anticipation. A door was about to open. She could feel it.

“Show me,” she said.

And Meredith, after a beat too long, gave a short, silent nod.

The door slid open with a low hiss, revealing a chamber steeped in cold silence. Metal walls reflected sterile light, and the air tasted of ozone and dust - like old ghosts and unfinished business. Servers lined the room in rigid rows, tall and impassive, their blinking lights flickering in a slow, mechanical rhythm. Controlled. Inhuman. Artificial. Still, the sound filled the silence like a distant, steady breath.

At the center stood a single terminal, its soft glow casting a lonely halo onto the floor - like a lighthouse stranded in a sea of wires and chrome.

Meredith didn’t speak. She moved with purpose as she approached the console and slipped Valerie’s data shard into a socket Judy didn’t recognize. The screen reacted immediately, blooming to life with a quiet pulse. One file appeared, blinking.

For Judy

Meredith turned, meeting Judy’s gaze with a look that held something strangely close to gentleness. There was a flicker in her eyes, brief and human. Then she was gone. The door hissed closed behind her, sealing Judy inside with a sound that landed heavy in her chest. A sound that felt final.

Judy stood frozen for a moment, breath caught somewhere in her throat. Her gaze latched onto the screen, unwilling to blink, afraid that if she looked away even for a second, the file might disappear - like everything else had.

At last, her legs moved. She stepped forward on unsteady feet, fingers curling around the back of the chair like it might anchor her. Slowly, she sat, lowering herself as if the air had thickened, weighted with something sacred and unbearable. Her hand hovered above the interface. Then - softly, deliberately - she pressed play.

The screen remained black. For a heartbeat. Two. There was only sound at first - the rustle of clothing, a chair creaking under shifting weight, and then an exhale. Long. Bone-deep. The kind of breath someone takes when they’ve held themselves together too long and are finally letting go.

Then the image changed.

And Judy stopped breathing.

There she was. Judy’s hand lifted on instinct, fingertips brushing the screen with a quiet reverence, as if she could reach through the glass. As if some miracle of connection might let her touch what was somewhere else.

Val looked... wrecked. Her skin was drained of color, stretched thin over sharp cheekbones. Her hair was very short, barely a buzz. A fresh bandage coiled around one forearm. Scars webbed across her collarbone, neck and temple, newer ones she hadn’t seen before - rough, angry lines that Judy could bet still ached when it rained. She looked like she’d survived something unspeakable and hadn’t emerged whole.

And yet, in the wreckage of her body, there was one thing that remained untouched. Her eyes. They still carried that familiar storm. That same storm Judy had once fallen into. Even now, across time and distance, she could feel the pull of it. That reckless light. That defiance. Still burning.

Valerie lifted a hand, touched the back of her head, and offered a small, pained smile - crooked, sheepish, heartbreakingly familiar. Her voice cracked when she spoke.

“I missed you.”

Judy’s throat seized. Her body folded in on itself, breath splintering against her ribs. “I missed you too,” she whispered, the words barely more than a breath.

Still, the sound of her voice - the weight it carried - punched through something fragile in Judy’s chest. It wasn’t just memory. It was resurrection. A heartbeat rising from static. And it hurt more than she could’ve prepared for. Her eyes burned. Her jaw clenched tight. But she didn’t cry. Not yet. Not yet.

“Broke the promise I gave you,” Valerie began. Her eyes didn’t lift. They clung to the floor like the weight of what she carried was too much to meet the camera head-on. “I’ve been reckless—so fuckin’ reckless.”

Judy sat still, breath shallow. Her hands, pale in the blue light of the monitor, trembled faintly in her lap.

“But I think we’re even,” she added after a breath. “Just got a ping. You bought yourself a one-way ticket to Night City.” A pause, then Valerie's mouth tilted into something crooked - half a smirk, half a wince. “Oh, Jude. You little menace.”

The words punched the breath from Judy’s lungs. She laughed, once - bitter and involuntary - then pressed a knuckle to her mouth to hold the rest in. The smile hurt, like pulling on a scar that hadn’t fully closed.

“I knew you’d figure it out sooner or later,” Val murmured. “I fought with myself about reaching out. About putting that coin in the envelope. Told myself you were safer without me dragging you into this shit again. That I didn’t have the right to ask you to come back.” She looked away for a moment, as if remembering something only half-healed. “But I kept thinking about that talk we had—back at the basketball court. About choices. About not stealing the decision from you.”

From her flannel pocket, Valerie pulled out a coin. It gleamed dully in the dim light, edges worn smooth with years of use. Judy recognized it immediately. She reached, almost reflexively, toward her backpack on the floor. She knew the twin to that coin was inside. She’d run her thumb over it so many times the surface had become part of her fingerprint.

“This one’s Alex’s,” Valerie said, her voice so gentle it barely carried through the speakers. “She figured it out, too. That I’d crawl back here to Night City and hide. She came after me. Found me when I went back to the apartment. She, um—she tried to stop me.”

Valerie’s voice faltered. Her hand flexed, rubbing the back of her neck like she was trying to scrub something off her skin.

Judy remembered the smear of blood. Had tried not to think about it. Had forced herself not to ask. Now she didn’t need to. It wasn’t Valerie’s blood as she thought at the beginning. It was Alex’s.

“It didn’t end well,” Valerie whispered.

Silence stretched. Judy’s throat tightened. Her fingers clenched into fists, nails biting into her palms.

“But I’m doing this all backwards,” Valerie muttered, her tone twisting, self-directed frustration leaking through the cracks. “Starting from the end. I’m sorry. I wanted to explain… everything. You deserve that, Jude. You deserve to see the whole picture before you decide what you want to do with me.”

Valerie glanced around her, made a vague gesture, motioning to something off-screen, and Judy blinked as the angle shifted. The background came into view slowly, like the fog lifting from a dream. The sagging sofa. The chipped counter. The crooked lamp with the red shade by the window.

Judy’s breath caught in her chest. Her vision blurred, and she had to blink twice to clear it.

The lake cabin.

“You know where I am now,” Valerie said. “But don’t come—not yet. Let me finish what I started. We’ve got time. I’ll be waiting here. I promise. And this time… I’ll keep that promise.”

There was something fragile about the way she looked at the screen - something that caught in Judy’s chest and refused to let go. Beneath the grit and fire that always lived behind those gray eyes, there was a softness now, tempered by everything she’d endured. It made Judy ache.

“Take your time,” she said. “Think about who I am now. About whether you can still trust me.” Her voice lowered to something rough and quiet, almost apologetic. “I’ll understand if you walk away. I won’t chase you. Won’t blame you. It’s your choice, Jude.”

Judy didn’t move. Couldn’t. Her fists were still curled tight against her thighs, nails digging into denim. Her pulse hammered a frantic rhythm in her throat, her ribs. That sharp, unbearable urgency thrummed through every nerve - she could be there soon. Half an hour, maybe less. She could find Val, right now. Could run her hands over the scars those missing months had left behind, kiss her way through the truth instead of hearing it.

But Valerie had asked her not to. Had asked her to wait. To breathe. To think. To listen.

So, Judy breathed. Deep and slow. Inhale. Hold. Exhale. The way Val had showed her that night in the restaurant. When the walls had closed in, and nothing made sense and all she could do was cry into someone’s shoulder and pretend it helped. It had been Valerie’s. It always had been.

She looked back up just as the flare of a lighter bathed Valerie’s face in that amber hush. For a second, Judy saw the lines time had carved into her. The shadows under her eyes. The hollowness. The exhaustion. And yet she wasn’t lost. Not gone. Not yet.

Still here. Still hers.

Judy leaned back slowly in the chair. Her fingers, once white-knuckled, eased open in her lap. Her breathing leveled out, though her chest still ached with everything unspoken. She nodded once - barely a motion, just a whisper of intent. A silent vow.

Chapter Text

-- III --

The Dark Clouds
Through lanes and stone rows, black granite, wind blows, fire lake and far flame.
Go now but come again.
Dark clouds gather 'round, will I run or stand my ground?

They pulled her straight from the airport without ceremony or pretense. No uniforms, no insignias - only men in dark suits who moved with the efficient indifference of professionals, ushering her and Alex into the backseat of a black SUV that reeked faintly of old leather and cold sweat. No pleasantries were offered. Just the slam of heavy doors, the low growl of an engine stirring to life, and the steady thrum of tires swallowing miles of asphalt as they sped toward Langley.

Alex slid closer to her in the backseat, the brush of their thighs barely noticed at first. She was smiling that thin, restless smile of hers, fingers wandering over Valerie’s hand as if counting the old callouses and scars carved there, like landmarks she remembered but no longer cared about. The touch was light, almost playful, but it only made Valerie feel heavier inside.

They rode mostly in silence, and for that, Valerie was grateful. Her mind was still trapped somewhere far behind them, in the dim hush of a Barcelona hotel room, yesterday still clung to her skin. She could still smell Judy’s hair, still feel the soft drag of fingertips over her ribs, the touch of Judy’s lips on her collarbone, stomach and thighs. She didn't want to leave that world. That fragile, stolen bubble they had built for themselves.

Now, as the distance stretched between them, it all felt like something imagined. A dream already slipping through her fingers. Someday, maybe, she could have it back. That hope flickered stubbornly inside her. She promised, and she would do everything in her power to make good on that promise. But first, there was unfinished business - business that would not wait.

She just prayed it wouldn’t cost her the only thing that had ever truly mattered. If they ever touched Judy... Valerie would burn the whole world to the fucking ground.

“Come on, V. Smile. You look miserable,” Alex teased, her voice light but needling, bristling with impatience.

Valerie didn’t respond. She kept her gaze pinned to the passing blur outside the window, watching empty streets and skeletal buildings flicker by. The silence grew brittle between them.

“You still sulking over that tattooed bitch?” Alex pressed, her voice thick with disdain, the words scraping across Val’s nerves like sandpaper. “You knew how this was gonna end. I mean, you—you could have any pussy you wanted. Judy—”

“Don’t.”

The word cut sharp and cold, a blade driven between them. Valerie’s voice was low, gritted through clenched teeth. Judy’s name in Alex’s mouth sounded wrong - dirty somehow, cheapened by the mere utterance. It didn’t belong there.

“It’s not that,” Valerie added after a beat, slipping the lie on like an old, familiar jacket. “I'm not sulking. I always knew there was an expiration date. Could’ve handled it better at the end, sure. But she’ll get over it eventually.”

“And you? Are you over it?”

“Yes.” The answer came too easily, too quickly, worn smooth by practice. “We were from different worlds. It was always going to end. She’ll be fine. I’ve got more important things to worry about now.”

Alex snorted softly, unconvinced. “Then why do you still look like shit?”

Valerie exhaled, slow and shallow, and let her head thud gently back against the seatrest. She closed her eyes, trying to will herself somewhere else - anywhere else. “The fuckin’ chip,” she muttered. “It’s—”

Before she could finish, Alex caught her hand between hers, thumb stroking over the back of her knuckles. A small gesture, but wrong in every way. The hands were too big, the skin too rough, the warmth too impersonal. Valerie opened her eyes and stared into a pair of cool amber eyes, not the rich, aching brown she longed for.

Still, she didn’t pull away. Couldn’t. She had to keep up the act. Had to make them believe she was theirs to shape, to command, to mold.

“Stop stressing,” Alex murmured, brushing her knuckles across Valerie’s cheek with a counterfeit tenderness. “Myers got you the best surgeons in the world. You’re not gonna die on that table. You’ll come back better. Stronger. Like you always do.”

Valerie leaned into the touch, feigning comfort, her body moving like a puppet on invisible strings. But inside, the hollowness yawned wider, colder. “I just…” she whispered, voice shaking slightly to sell it, “I hope it works.”

“Of course it will. You’re invincible, V. A broken chip’s not how your story ends. Trust me.”

Silence returned, heavy and stifling. Valerie let her hand slip free the moment Alex’s attention drifted back toward the window. She tucked it into her lap, fingers curling into a loose fist. After a moment, the SUV slowed, and through the dark tint of the window, Langley’s fortress-like gates loomed into view - monolithic and unwelcoming.

Alex grinned and nudged her playfully. “We’re finally home, V.”

Valerie flashed a quick, toothless smile in return, the kind that looked right and felt wrong. Her heart stayed motionless, heavy inside her chest. Because home wasn’t a place anymore. Home had been a heartbeat pressed against her back, a breath stirring the hair at the nape of her neck, a voice murmuring her name in the dark.

And now, home was miles away, lost somewhere under Pittsburgh’s soot-gray skies.

Valerie sat on the cold floor of the sterile medical room. The walls were too white, too clean - like they were trying to convince her this place could bleach away the dirt of what had come before. Her back was pressed to the wall, knees bent, arms loose. In one hand, she toyed absently with an empty bottle of blockers, flicking it into the air with idle precision. It spun through the hum of flickering overhead lights before falling neatly into her palm, over and over. Beyond the sealed doors, voices drifted like ghosts, too muffled to understand, too present to ignore.

Johnny flickered into view beside her, arms crossed, hip tilted in that familiar, easy way like he owned the space, even if he didn’t exist in it. He watched her in silence for a beat, head cocked like he was sizing up a terminal patient too stubborn to accept the diagnosis.

“You’re gonna fry your gonk brain if you keep this up,” he said, voice scratchy and sardonic. “Try not thinking for five minutes. Might be good for your health.”

Valerie didn’t bother looking at him. She tossed the bottle again, caught it without blinking. “It’s called planning, dipshit. You know—thinking ahead. Not blowing yourself to pieces in the name of rock ‘n roll.”

Johnny gave a low chuckle. “Got it all figured out, huh?”

She caught the bottle one last time and let it rest against her thigh. For a moment, her face softened - unguarded, almost wistful. “I’m gonna miss you, choom.”

"No, you won’t."

Valerie’s grin spread, all teeth, but her eyes betrayed her. She didn’t need to say it aloud - what was coming. Soon the doctors would march in, all sterile gloves and clipped words, and ask her to lie down. And that would be it. Johnny would be gone. Like everything else. And despite everything in herself telling her that it was a good thing, she still felt hollow.

She wasn’t afraid. But she was tired. So fucking tired of watching people vanish. She was losing another friend. 

The doors hissed open. Valerie didn’t bother moving. She just turned her head lazily as Myers walked in, crisp and cold as always, flanked by an agent that looked more machine than man - shiny augments glinting in the sterile light, an artificial eye whirring as it focused on her.

Val leaned her head back against the wall and let out a long, theatrical sigh. “I’d offer you a drink, Rosie, but looks like they forgot my order. Tequila. Neat. Maybe you can do something about it?”

The bodyguard stiffened. “That’s Madame President for you, agent,” he barked. “And you’ll stand when you address her!”

Before she could laugh, he lunged forward, grabbing her by the collar and slamming her back into the wall. The blocker bottle clattered to the floor and rolled under the bed. His augmented fingers curled around her throat, cold metal pressing into skin.

Valerie didn’t flinch. Didn’t give him the satisfaction. “Looks like your eye-candy missed the memo,” she rasped, voice calm despite the pressure. “Not an agent anymore, pet. And I always thought Rosie had better taste than chrome-plated rottweilers.”

His grip tightened. “Watch your mouth.”

She smiled - wide, lazy, dangerous. “You might wanna look down.”

He did. And froze. The glint of her mantis blade pressed lightly to the soft spot just beneath his ribs, right where the synth-muscle met vulnerable tissue. One twitch, and she’d gut him like a fish.

“Enough,” the President said, not raising her voice - but the command snapped through the room like a whip crack.

Val didn’t blink. “Heard people live just fine without a spleen. You wanna test that theory, tin can?”

“I said stand down.”

The agent hesitated, then released her with a shove. Valerie stumbled but recovered instantly, blade retracting with a soft snick as she exhaled through her nose.

“You can leave us,” Myers said coolly.

“But—” he started.

“Stay outside, puppy,” Valerie interrupted, giving him a wolfish grin. “Big dogs are talking.”

With a final glare, the agent stalked out. The door hissed shut behind him.

Myers let out a breath like she’d been holding it since she walked in. “Was that necessary?”

Valerie flopped back onto the bed like a bored cat. “Where’d you find him, anyway? Robocop reject sale?”

"Believe it or not," Myers replied, "at a police station."

Val whistled low. “Woof. Taking fuck the cops to a whole new level. Color me impressed.”