### Chapter 1 — The Ask Night City was making its usual promises outside. Neon reflected from rain-slick streets. Traffic hummed somewhere far below. A siren wailed in the distance, rose, faded, vanished. The city never really slept. It merely changed shifts. Inside the apartment, however, the universe had finally run out of excuses. No incoming jobs. No encrypted messages. No emergency calls. No Foundation alerts. No one bleeding. No one shooting at them. For once, the evening belonged entirely to them. Ace was discovering that this was a problem. She sat curled into the corner of the couch with a book in her hands. Or rather, the same page of a book. For the third time. Maybe fourth. The words kept reaching her eyes. None of them stayed long enough to become thoughts. Across the room, Mai occupied the dining table. A tablet rested beside a mug of tea. Several documents floated across her display in organized windows. Unlike Ace, she appeared capable of reading. Annoyingly. Shammy had somehow claimed the entire opposite end of the couch without visibly moving there. One long leg stretched across the cushions. The other hung over the side. An old weather documentary played quietly on the wall display. Nobody was watching it. Including Shammy. Especially Shammy. Ace turned a page. Immediately realized she had not actually read the previous one. Again. "..." The page remained open. A full minute passed. Then: "Ace." She looked up. Mai had not moved. Had not even looked away from her display. "Yeah?" "You've been on the same chapter for twenty minutes." Ace glanced at the book. Then back at Mai. "No I haven't." "You have." "You didn't check." "I didn't need to." A pause. "...maybe." A faint smile touched Mai's mouth. Not victory. Recognition. The dangerous kind. Ace returned her attention to the book. Shammy reached for the remote. Muted the documentary. Without explanation. Without looking away from the screen. The silence immediately became louder. Ace narrowed her eyes. "Why did you do that?" "It was distracting." "You weren't watching it." "No." "Then how was it distracting?" Shammy finally looked over. Electric-blue eyes suspiciously innocent. "It was distracting you." "..." "..." "..." "That's not how that works." "It absolutely is." Ace opened her mouth. Closed it again. Returned to her book. The city lights shifted across the apartment windows. Rain tapped softly against the glass. Somewhere below, an engine revved. Then disappeared into the endless Night City murmur. Another page turned. Thirty seconds later: "Mai." The word escaped before Ace could stop it. Mai immediately looked up. Not eager. Not pouncing. Just attentive. "Yes?" Ace stared at her. The sentence that had existed perfectly well inside her head all evening promptly evaporated. "...nothing." Mai blinked once. Then nodded. "Okay." No pressure. No follow-up. No rescue. Which somehow made it worse. Shammy's expression remained completely neutral. Suspiciously neutral. Ace knew that expression. It meant the atmospheric menace had noticed something. The atmospheric menace was being polite about it. For now. Five minutes passed. Then ten. Rain continued falling. Mai continued reading. Shammy continued pretending not to watch the room. Ace continued losing a fight with her own thoughts. Eventually she set the book aside. Immediately regretted drawing attention to herself. Too late. Three pairs of eyes now occupied the room. Two visible. One belonging to the city itself. Ace rubbed the back of her neck. "Can I ask something weird?" The question landed in the apartment and stayed there. Mai placed her tablet down. Not dramatically. Just completely. Which somehow made the moment feel real. Shammy remained motionless. Watching. Waiting. Giving her space. Ace immediately wanted to throw herself out a window. "Sure," Mai said. There it was. The opening. The invitation. The exact thing Ace had been trying to create for the last hour. And suddenly it felt like the worst idea she had ever had. "..." "..." "..." Shammy reached for her drink. Very carefully. As if sudden movements might scare wildlife. Ace immediately wanted to throw herself out a window. "..." "..." "..." Shammy reached for her drink. Very carefully. As if sudden movements might scare wildlife. Ace pointed at her. "Don't." "I haven't said anything." "You've thought several things." "That is not currently illegal." "It should be." Shammy took a sip. Still innocent. Still suspicious. Mai rescued nobody. Which was also suspicious. Ace sighed. Then leaned back into the couch. Rain tapped softly against the windows. The city hummed beyond the glass. And somehow that made this harder. If there had been a demon trying to eat them, this conversation would already be over. "Do you remember Red Society?" Ace finally asked. Mai nodded immediately. "Of course." Shammy's expression softened slightly. Not because of the mission. Because she recognized the tone. Ace wasn't talking about the mission. She was using the mission as a bridge. A safe place to start. "There's something that's been bothering me." "Bad bothering?" Mai asked. "No." A pause. "That's kind of the problem." That got both of their attention. Ace looked down at her hands. Not because she was nervous. Because eye contact suddenly seemed unnecessary. "And before either of you says anything—" "We won't." "You don't know what I'm going to say." "We have a pretty good guess." Ace looked up sharply. Shammy immediately stared at the ceiling. Mai became very interested in her tea. Traitors. Both of them. "Fine." Another pause. Then another. Then another. Somewhere in Night City, a horn blared. Ace seriously considered discussing traffic instead. Unfortunately she had already started. "There was a point during the mission." Mai remained silent. Listening. Just listening. "I wasn't making decisions." Nothing. No interruption. No analysis. So Ace continued. "I wasn't planning three steps ahead." Still nothing. "I wasn't watching exits." Shammy's eyes flickered briefly. That one landed. Because all three of them knew how unusual that was. Ace always watched exits. Restaurants. Apartments. Safehouses. Hotels. Doesn't matter. Ace always knew where the exits were. Always. "I remember realizing that." Her voice had become quieter. Not weak. Thoughtful. "I remember thinking I should probably be paying more attention." A faint smile appeared. Small. Almost embarrassed. "And then I didn't." The apartment stayed silent. Mai finally spoke. "What did that feel like?" Ace opened her mouth. Closed it. Thought. Actually thought. For nearly half a minute. "Strange." Mai waited. "Good strange." That made something shift in the room. Not dramatically. Just enough. Enough that Ace felt it. Enough that Mai felt it. Enough that Shammy quietly set her glass down. "You trusted us." The words came from Mai. Simple. Matter-of-fact. Ace frowned. "That's not new." "No." Mai shook her head. "It isn't." Another pause. Then: "But you usually trust us while still carrying everything." Ace froze. Shammy looked out toward the rain-covered windows. Giving the conversation room. The way she always did when something important was happening. Not leaving. Not intruding. Just making space. Ace looked at Mai. Mai met her gaze calmly. No judgment. No expectation. Just understanding. Which was somehow worse. Because understanding meant Ace couldn't hide behind explanations. "I think..." Ace began. Then stopped. Restarted. "I think I liked not having to carry everything." There. Finally. The real sentence. The one that had been trying to get out all evening. Silence followed. Not uncomfortable silence. Just silence. The kind that forms around honesty. Mai leaned back slightly. Considering. Not analyzing. Considering. Ace could practically hear her assembling thoughts. Which felt unfair. Because Ace had spent two days assembling hers. Finally Mai asked: "Is that what you've been trying to say all night?" "...mostly." "Mostly?" Ace groaned. Shammy immediately looked interested. That was a mistake. Ace saw it. "Oh no." "What?" "You got that face." "What face?" "The one that means you're about to enjoy this." "I would never." "Lie." Shammy smiled into her drink. Mai's mouth twitched. Barely. Ace pointed accusingly at both of them. "You're supposed to be helping." "We are helping." "By being smug?" "We haven't even started being smug." That came from Mai. Ace stared. Shammy immediately lost the battle. Not completely. Just enough. A snort escaped. Tiny. Brief. Gone immediately. Ace buried her face in one hand. "Fantastic." "Ace." Mai's voice pulled her attention back. Gentle. Steady. Important. Ace looked up. The amusement was gone now. Mai's expression had settled into something softer. Something thoughtful. "What are you asking for?" And there it was. The actual question. Not what happened. Not what she felt. Not why. What. Ace suddenly wished she had planned this part. Because the answer wasn't simple. She wasn't asking for orders. She wasn't asking for control. She wasn't asking for permission. None of those words fit. "I don't know." The honesty surprised even her. Mai nodded once. Accepting it. "No. That's not true." Ace sighed. Then tried again. "I know what I don't mean." "Okay." "I don't mean..." She searched for words. "...I don't want somebody running my life." Mai nodded. "Good." "I don't want someone making every decision." "Also good." "I don't want to stop being me." A longer pause. Then Mai smiled. Small. Warm. "As if that would be possible." Ace rolled her eyes automatically. The reflex helped. A little. And then, finally, she found the right sentence. Not perfect. But right. "I want to know what it feels like if somebody else is responsible for me for a while." The room went completely still. Not shocked. Not awkward. Still. Because now everyone understood. Exactly. --- The room went completely still. Not shocked. Not awkward. Still. Because now everyone understood. Exactly. Rain whispered against the windows. A vehicle passed somewhere below. The sound faded. Nobody spoke. Ace immediately hated every second of it. Not because the silence was hostile. Because it wasn't. Because neither of them looked surprised. Or confused. Or concerned. As if she had just admitted something they had both known for years. Which was deeply unfair. Ace folded her arms. A defensive maneuver. A useless one. Mai noticed. Shammy noticed. Everyone noticed. Nobody commented. For once. Finally Mai inhaled slowly. Then asked the most Mai question imaginable. "For how long?" Ace blinked. "...what?" "For how long?" "You just skipped every other part of that conversation." "No." Mai's voice remained calm. Steady. "I listened to every part." She leaned back slightly. Thinking. Not judging. Thinking. "You said what you don't mean." A small gesture toward Ace. "You said what you do mean." Another pause. "So the practical question is how long." Ace stared at her. That was it. No psychological breakdown. No concern. No careful examination of motives. Just logistics. Because of course it was. Mai had somehow managed to turn an emotional confession into project planning. Ace wasn't sure whether to be relieved or offended. Possibly both. "A weekend?" The answer came out sounding more like a question than a statement. Mai nodded once. Accepting the number. Considering it. Across the couch, Shammy finally shifted. Not speaking yet. Just listening. Watching. Present. The way atmospheric pressure becomes noticeable only when it changes. "A weekend sounds reasonable." Ace narrowed her eyes. "Reasonable?" "Yes." "That's your reaction?" Mai tilted her head. "What reaction were you expecting?" "I don't know." "That's becoming a theme tonight." That earned a reluctant snort. Tiny. But real. The tension in the room eased slightly. Not gone. Just lighter. Mai folded her hands. "Okay." There it was again. That word. Simple. Dangerous. Final. Okay. Not: We'll see. Not: Maybe. Not: Let's talk about it later. Okay. Ace looked at her. Studied her. Waiting for the catch. The conditions. The footnotes. The inevitable complication. Nothing came. Mai simply met her gaze. Calm as ever. Eventually Ace frowned. "That's it?" "For now." "For now?" "Well." A faint smile appeared. "Neither of us has done this before." Fair. Annoyingly fair. Ace sank slightly deeper into the couch. The hardest part had been saying it. She hadn't expected the second hardest part. Being believed. No arguments. No resistance. No need to defend the request. Just acceptance. The realization left her feeling strangely unbalanced. Like she'd spent hours bracing for impact and discovered there wasn't one. Shammy finally spoke. The first words she'd offered in several minutes. "You know..." Both Ace and Mai looked toward her. Shammy's expression had become unusually soft. Not amused. Not teasing. Just honest. "You spent two days trying to figure out how to ask that." Ace groaned immediately. "Oh, we're talking about that now." "We are." "No." "We are." Ace pointed at her. Shammy ignored this completely. An advanced skill. "And Mai needed approximately twelve seconds to decide." "Twelve is generous." "Traitor." Mai's mouth twitched. A little. Not enough. Shammy continued. "The asking was harder, wasn't it?" The room quieted again. Not because anyone demanded it. Because the answer mattered. Ace looked away first. Toward the rain. Toward the city. Toward anything except the two people sitting across from her. And after a long moment: "...yeah." The admission came quietly. Almost lost beneath the weather. But both of them heard it. Of course they did. Shammy nodded. As if something had been confirmed. Not discovered. Confirmed. "I thought so." No joke followed. No teasing. No commentary. Just understanding. Which somehow landed harder. Ace rubbed her eyes. "You're all being weird." "We're sitting on a couch." "Emotionally weird." "There it is." "Shammy." "What?" "Stop being perceptive." "I literally can't." "Try harder." Shammy smiled. A real smile this time. Warm. Genuine. And for a second Ace saw exactly what Shammy had been hiding all evening. Not amusement. Relief. Because the request itself didn't surprise her. The fact that Ace had finally voiced it did. That realization settled somewhere deep and uncomfortable. Not painful. Just... noticeable. Mai stood first. Gathering her tablet from the table. The movement drew both their eyes. "Tomorrow." Ace blinked. "Tomorrow?" Mai nodded. "Tomorrow." As if that explained everything. As if a whole weekend had already been scheduled inside her head. Which, knowing Mai, wasn't impossible. "You already have a plan." "Not yet." "You absolutely have a plan." "Maybe." "You have a plan." "Maybe." Ace pointed accusingly. Mai ignored her. An equally advanced skill. Shammy watched the exchange with growing interest. Dangerous interest. The kind that usually preceded trouble. Not tonight. Just curiosity. "Should I be worried?" Ace asked. "No." Mai answered immediately. Without hesitation. Without uncertainty. No. The simplicity of it did something strange to Ace's chest. A small shift. A loosening. Tiny. Almost impossible to notice. Almost. And because nobody was currently trying to kill them... Because there was no emergency. No mission. No deadline. She allowed herself to feel it. Just for a moment. Safe. The thought arrived so suddenly that it nearly startled her. Safe. Not because Night City was safe. Not because the apartment was safe. Not because the future was safe. Because these two people were here. And for once, she wasn't responsible for what came next. Mai set her tablet aside. Shammy reclaimed the remote. The weather documentary returned. Neither of them commented further. The conversation was over. Not solved. Not finished. Just... begun. And for the first time all evening, Ace felt no urge to take the words back. Outside, Night City continued making promises. Inside, a weekend waited. And for once, Ace wasn't entirely sure what tomorrow would look like. Strangely enough... That no longer bothered her. 😄 --- # Chapter 2 — Terms & Conditions Ace woke first. She usually did. For several seconds she stayed exactly where she was. Blanket. Warmth. The quiet weight of another body against her shoulder. Another against her back. Night City's glow leaking around the edges of the curtains. Normal. Comfortably familiar. Then memory arrived. Friday. The conversation. The request. Today. Ace stared at the ceiling. "...oh." Nobody answered. Mai was still asleep. Shammy was definitely still asleep. Or pretending. With Shammy there was occasionally a difference. Ace carefully slipped free from the tangled collection of blankets and limbs that constituted Triad sleeping arrangements. The operation took experience. And luck. Mostly experience. She made it halfway across the room before her brain fully engaged. Coffee. Good. Coffee was a thing people did. Coffee was normal. Coffee was— She stopped. Hand already reaching toward the kitchen counter. "...right." The apartment remained stubbornly quiet. Ace stood there for several seconds. Then lowered her hand. This was ridiculous. Nobody had said anything. Nobody was even awake. And yet she felt like she had been caught doing something. --- Mai appeared ten minutes later. Barefoot. Silver hair slightly disheveled. Still carrying the last traces of sleep. She stopped when she saw Ace sitting at the table. A mugless Ace. A suspiciously inactive Ace. The sight clearly required processing. "Morning." "Morning." Mai looked toward the untouched coffee machine. Then back toward Ace. Then toward the coffee machine again. "...you didn't make coffee." "No." A pause. Another. Then: "Was that difficult?" Ace glared. Mai's mouth twitched. Just slightly. Not enough. "Very funny." "I wasn't joking." Which was somehow worse. Mai moved into the kitchen. No ceremony. No discussion. Just began preparing coffee. The familiar sounds filled the apartment. Water. Ceramic. The soft click of switches. Ace watched for approximately six seconds. Then stood. Mai looked up immediately. "Sit." Ace froze. Not because of the word. Because of how automatic her reaction had been. She hadn't even realized she was moving. "I was just—" "I know." Mai returned her attention to the coffee. "You were just helping." Ace slowly sat back down. --- Shammy arrived a few minutes later. Wrapped in an oversized shirt. Hair behaving according to electrical principles unknown to science. She stopped in the doorway. Looked at Ace. Looked at Mai. Looked at the coffee. Then quietly sat down beside Ace. No comment. None. Which immediately made Ace suspicious. "You noticed." Shammy blinked. "Noticed what?" "Exactly." "Hm." Shammy accepted the coffee Mai handed her. Still saying nothing. Still not helping. Traitor. --- Breakfast happened. Mostly. Ace discovered she had developed several hundred invisible jobs. Tiny things. Meaningless things. Things she normally did without thinking. A plate left near the sink. A cabinet door not fully closed. A grocery list that needed updating. Laundry. Supplies. A dozen microscopic responsibilities. Each one grabbed her attention. Each one triggered movement. And every single time— "Ace." Or: "Leave it." Or: "I've got it." Nothing dramatic. No arguments. No explanations. Just gentle course corrections. Again. And again. And again. --- By noon she was beginning to feel mildly hunted. Not by Mai. By her own habits. That was worse. The apartment was clean. Comfortable. Peaceful. And somehow Ace had already walked into the kitchen six separate times looking for something to do. The problem was she never found anything. Mai and Shammy kept getting there first. Not deliberately. Not strategically. Simply because there wasn't actually anything wrong. Which turned out to be deeply inconvenient. --- The seventh time happened after lunch. Ace stood in the middle of the living room. Looking around. Searching. For something. Anything. Her gaze landed on a shelf. Shifted. Landed on another. Shifted again. Then stopped. A small storage drawer beneath one of the cabinets. She opened it. Looked inside. Closed it. Opened it again. Checked the contents. Closed it. Three minutes later she opened it a third time. A voice behind her: "What are you looking for?" Ace turned. Mai stood nearby. Calm. Patient. Holding a book. Ace looked back at the drawer. Then at Mai. Then back at the drawer. "...I have absolutely no idea." For a moment nobody spoke. Then Mai crossed the room. Closed the drawer. Took Ace's hand. Not possessively. Not dramatically. Simply matter-of-factly. And guided her back toward the couch. Ace followed. Half because she wanted to. Half because she had no better idea. "Sit." Ace sat. Mai returned to her book. As if this were the most normal thing in the world. Maybe it was. --- For the first time that day, Ace began to suspect something uncomfortable. This wasn't going to be difficult because of Mai. Or Shammy. Or the arrangement. It was going to be difficult because she genuinely didn't know how much space responsibility occupied inside her life until it was suddenly missing. And the realization followed her quietly into the afternoon. Not yet an answer. Not yet an understanding. Just a question. A persistent one. How long had she been doing this? And more importantly— How had she never noticed? 😄 --- # Chapter 3 — Reflexes The first real mistake happened at 13:07. Not because anyone was keeping score. Ace simply remembered the time afterward. Mostly because of how absurd it was. The apartment was quiet. Rain still drifted across Night City outside. Shammy occupied one end of the couch. Mai occupied the dining table. Ace occupied neither. Which was part of the problem. For nearly fifteen minutes she wandered aimlessly through the apartment under the increasingly questionable excuse of _"just stretching her legs."_ The excuse had already worn thin. Mostly because she had walked through the same room four times. Mai didn't comment. Shammy didn't comment. The silence was beginning to feel coordinated. Ace was suspicious. --- The message arrived without warning. A soft notification tone. Nothing urgent. Nothing encrypted. Just a normal incoming message. Ace moved instantly. No thought. No decision. Pure reflex. Halfway across the room she realized someone else had moved too. Mai. Not faster. Just sooner. By the time Ace reached the table, Mai already had the agent in hand. The message was open. Being read. Ace stopped. "..." Mai looked up. Not smug. Not victorious. Simply aware. For one long second both women stared at each other. Then Mai returned her attention to the screen. "It's Kiro." Ace remained standing. "Is everything okay?" "Yes." A pause. Then: "She found a twenty-year-old abandoned datacluster and thinks she discovered Atlantis." "Ah." "Exactly." Mai handed the agent over. Ace took it. Read three lines. Immediately understood. Kiro had absolutely discovered Atlantis. Again. For the fourth time this year. She handed the agent back. The exchange ended. Nobody mentioned what had just happened. The problem was that Ace noticed. For the first time all day, she noticed. Not Mai stopping her. Not Shammy watching. Her own movement. How automatic it had been. How complete. Message arrives. Ace responds. No deliberation required. The realization lingered. --- The second mistake happened thirty minutes later. And was somehow worse. Because nobody even caught her. Ace caught herself. Which felt unfair. She was standing in front of the weapons cabinet before she realized why she had walked there. The cabinet wasn't open. Nothing was wrong. No maintenance needed. No reason to be there. She had simply ended up in front of it. Like water finding a familiar channel. Ace stared at the cabinet. The cabinet stared back. A deeply unproductive conversation. Slowly she turned around. Walked away. And discovered Shammy sitting in the hallway. Not blocking her path. Not saying anything. Just sitting there with a tablet balanced on one knee. Ace narrowed her eyes. "You saw that." "I saw many things." "You saw that." "I did." Shammy's attention remained on the tablet. Which somehow made it worse. Ace folded her arms. Waiting. Shammy continued reading. Still waiting. Eventually: "...and?" Shammy looked up. "And what?" Ace pointed toward the cabinet. "That." Realization flickered. "Oh." A pause. Then: "I wasn't going to say anything." "Why not?" The answer came immediately. Because Shammy never needed time to answer questions like that. "Because you already know." Ace hated that. Mostly because it was true. --- The afternoon drifted onward. No revelations. No dramatic conversations. Just time. And the strange realization that time moved differently when nobody expected anything from her. Normally weekends disappeared. Jobs. Planning. Preparation. Repairs. Research. Something always filled the gaps. Today the gaps remained gaps. And Ace was beginning to understand why that bothered her. Not because she disliked peace. Because she wasn't used to it. --- Around four o'clock Mai finally closed her book. The sound drew Ace's attention immediately. Mai stood. Walked toward the kitchen. Opened the refrigerator. Studied the contents. Then: "We're going out." Ace looked up. "So suddenly?" Mai glanced over her shoulder. "We need groceries." Reasonable. Normal. Entirely unremarkable. Which explained why Ace immediately stood up. "Okay." Mai looked at her. Then at the keys already appearing in Ace's hand. Then back at Ace. The silence lasted exactly three seconds. Ace looked down. Keys. Car keys. She had no memory of picking them up. "..." "..." "..." Ace slowly lowered her hand. Mai's expression softened. Only slightly. Not pity. Not amusement. Understanding. Dangerous. Ace put the keys back down. "I hate this." The admission escaped before she could stop it. Not angry. Not bitter. Honest. Mai stepped closer. Not much. Just enough. "I know." No lecture. No correction. No reminder. Just: I know. And somehow that made it easier. Not easy. Just easier. --- The grocery store itself should have been harmless. A completely ordinary errand. A completely ordinary afternoon. Unfortunately it turned out that Ace approached grocery shopping exactly the same way she approached tactical operations. She noticed this approximately ten minutes after entering the store. Route planning. Efficiency calculations. Inventory assessment. Priority acquisition. Threat eval— Okay. Maybe not threat evaluation. Probably. Mostly. The point remained. By aisle four she was mentally optimizing grocery logistics. By aisle six she had unconsciously taken responsibility for the shopping basket. By aisle seven she was halfway through comparing three different brands of coffee because somebody clearly needed to make a decision. "Ace." She looked up. Mai stood across the aisle. One eyebrow raised. The universal Mai expression. Ace looked down. The basket. The coffee. The shopping list. Then back at Mai. "...oh." Mai held out her hand. No words. Just her hand. Waiting. Ace stared. Then, with visible reluctance, handed over the basket. Mai accepted it. Immediately continued shopping. The world did not end. Annoyingly. --- Much later, walking back through rain-dark streets with grocery bags in Mai's hands and Shammy carrying the rest, Ace found herself empty-handed. The realization arrived unexpectedly. She wasn't carrying anything. Not the bags. Not the route. Not the decisions. Not even the pace. Mai was setting the direction. Shammy was matching it. Ace was simply... walking. The thought should have felt strange. It did. But not entirely in a bad way. For several blocks nobody spoke. Rain whispered against jackets. Traffic rolled past. Neon reflected from wet pavement. Night City breathed around them. And for a brief moment, caught between one intersection and the next, Ace experienced something unfamiliar. Not freedom. Not relief. Something quieter. The absence of pressure. Small. Temporary. Easy to miss. But there. And for the first time all day she didn't immediately reach for it. She simply let it exist. And kept walking beside the two people she trusted most. 😄 --- # Chapter 4 — Structural Load The first sign that something was changing appeared that evening. Not in Ace. In Mai. Ace didn't notice it immediately. Shammy did. Of course she did. --- Dinner preparation began at precisely the moment Ace forgot herself again. The groceries had barely been unpacked. The rain had followed them home. Jackets hung drying near the door. The apartment smelled faintly of coffee and wet pavement. And Ace was already moving. Not consciously. Just naturally. One moment she was standing in the kitchen. The next she was pulling ingredients from cabinets. Reaching for a cutting board. Planning three steps ahead. Normal. Comfortable. Familiar. Then: "Ace." She froze. Knife halfway out of the drawer. The apartment went quiet. Not awkward. Not tense. Just still. Ace looked up. Mai stood across the kitchen. Arms folded. Watching her. The expression wasn't stern. It wasn't annoyed. It wasn't even particularly serious. But it was steady. And somehow that made it impossible to ignore. For a second nobody moved. Then Ace looked down at the knife in her hand. "...right." The knife went back into the drawer. Mai nodded once. And returned to the vegetables she had been preparing. As if nothing unusual had happened. --- A few minutes later Shammy appeared beside Ace. Holding a bottle of water. Offering it silently. Ace accepted it. "Thanks." "You're welcome." A pause. Then: "How many times was that today?" Ace immediately knew what she meant. "Don't." "I'm asking." "I don't know." "More than ten." Ace sighed. Probably. Maybe more. The irritating thing was that none of them had been big things. No disasters. No major responsibilities. No life-or-death decisions. Just hundreds of tiny motions. Tiny assumptions. Tiny acts of responsibility. The kind nobody noticed because Ace always did them. Including Ace. --- The realization followed her through the evening. Not dramatically. Just persistently. Like a stone in a shoe. Dinner happened. Conversation drifted. Someone mentioned Kiro's latest archaeological expedition into abandoned data ruins. Someone else questioned whether four Atlantean discoveries in one year should still count as discoveries. Normal things. Comfortable things. Life. Yet every now and then Ace caught herself noticing something. Mai was doing more. Not everything. Just more. And unlike earlier in the day, she wasn't hesitating anymore. That was new. --- The morning had contained uncertainty. Questions. Careful adjustments. Neither of them entirely sure where the boundaries were. Now? Now Mai was beginning to trust the shape of it. The realization arrived while Ace was watching her clear plates from the table. Ordinarily Ace would already have been moving. Already helping. Already halfway to the sink. Instead she remained seated. Watching. Thinking. Mai carried the plates away. Started washing them. Didn't look back. Didn't check whether Ace was okay. Didn't verify the arrangement. Didn't ask permission. She simply assumed responsibility. Calmly. Naturally. The same way Ace usually did. And for some reason that landed harder than any conversation had. --- Later, after dinner, the three of them migrated toward the living room. The weather had finally broken outside. Rain continued tapping against the windows. The city beyond glowed in scattered neon reflections. A comfortable darkness settled through the apartment. The kind that belonged to weekends. The kind that belonged to home. Ace occupied her usual corner of the couch. Book in hand. Again. This time she was actually reading it. Mostly. Shammy lounged nearby. Mai sat in an armchair opposite them. A blanket draped over her lap. The room settled. Quiet. Comfortable. No urgency. No expectations. Just presence. --- About forty minutes passed before Ace noticed something. She had not stood up once. Not for water. Not to check something. Not to fix something. Not to verify anything. Forty minutes. The realization was strange enough that she lowered the book. Across the room Mai looked up immediately. Their eyes met. Neither spoke. No explanation necessary. Just recognition. A tiny moment. Gone almost immediately. Yet somehow important. --- Shammy noticed too. Of course. But unlike earlier she said nothing. No observations. No comments. No clever insights. Just a faint smile that appeared and vanished almost instantly. A private thing. Warm. Protective. Proud. The sort of smile someone wears when they witness something fragile beginning to work. --- The evening continued. Slowly. Naturally. The way good evenings often did. No revelations. No emotional speeches. No dramatic turning points. Just small moments accumulating quietly. Until eventually Ace realized something unexpected. She was tired. Not exhausted. Not burned out. Just tired. The ordinary kind. The human kind. The sort of tiredness that appears after a peaceful day. The realization caught her completely off guard. Because she couldn't remember the last time she'd allowed herself to feel it. Normally there was always another task. Another responsibility. Another thing demanding attention. Today there had been interruptions. Barriers. Gentle redirections. A constant stream of small reminders that somebody else was carrying part of the load. And now... Now the day was ending. The apartment was warm. The city sounded distant. The people she trusted most were nearby. And for the first time since Friday night, Ace found herself thinking less about whether this arrangement was working. And more about how quickly the day had passed. Which, she suspected, might be an answer to a question she hadn't fully known how to ask. --- Outside, Night City continued roaring through another endless evening. Inside, the apartment remained quiet. Comfortable. Safe. And somewhere beneath that comfort, beneath the routine and the ordinary rhythm of shared space, something subtle had begun to shift. Not understanding. Not yet. That belonged to tomorrow. This was something smaller. Simpler. The first faint sensation that maybe— Just maybe— She didn't need to carry everything all the time. And for tonight, that was enough. ❤️ --- # Chapter 5 — Atmospheric Interference Ace woke before the others again. This time she didn't move immediately. Not because she remembered. Because she was comfortable. The realization arrived a few seconds later and startled her more than any alarm could have. Comfortable. Not alert. Not waiting. Not half-awake and tracking every sound in the apartment. Comfortable. She stared at the ceiling. The faint grey light of early morning filtered through the curtains. Mai's arm rested loosely across her waist. Shammy occupied approximately forty percent of the available mattress despite every known law of geometry. Normal. The thought arrived quietly. This felt normal. And that was somehow the strangest part of all. --- The apartment remained mostly silent through breakfast. Not awkward silence. Weekend silence. The comfortable kind. Coffee. Rain. A few scattered comments. Nobody trying to fill empty space simply because it existed. Ace found herself watching the weather beyond the windows. Actually watching it. Not scanning. Not assessing. Watching. The rain had softened overnight. The city below looked washed clean in places. Almost. Night City never managed entirely. --- By late morning the apartment had settled into a familiar rhythm. Mai worked on something at the dining table. Nothing urgent. Nothing work-related. Just one of the countless projects she accumulated whenever the universe stopped trying to kill them. Ace had stopped asking where they came from. Shammy occupied the couch. Again. At this point the couch might legally belong to her. Ace sat nearby with her book. And for almost an hour nobody interrupted the peace. --- The interruption came from Shammy. Which immediately made it suspicious. Ace looked up from her book. Shammy was watching her. Not in a concerning way. Not even in a particularly obvious way. Just... watching. "Ace." "...yes?" "You haven't reorganized anything today." Ace narrowed her eyes. The statement felt like a trap. "I don't know how to respond to that." "Good." "That doesn't help." "It wasn't intended to." Ace glanced toward Mai. No assistance arrived. Traitors. Both of them. --- A few minutes later she realized why Shammy had said it. Not because of the words. Because she was right. The apartment had been awake for hours. Ace had not once found herself wandering toward some imaginary responsibility. No weapons cabinet. No storage drawer. No grocery inventory. No mysterious urge to improve something that didn't require improvement. The absence was noticeable now. And once she noticed it, she couldn't stop noticing it. --- Around noon they ended up on the balcony. The weather had finally relented. Not sunshine. Night City rarely committed to anything that cheerful. But the rain had stopped. Clouds drifted slowly overhead. The air smelled clean by local standards. Which mostly meant it smelled less polluted than usual. Ace leaned against the railing. Mai stood nearby. Shammy occupied an outdoor chair in a manner suggesting she had been born there. For a while nobody spoke. The city stretched endlessly around them. Towers. Roads. Lights. Noise. Life. All of it continuing regardless of whether anyone paid attention. --- "You look lighter." The voice came from Shammy. Quiet. Matter-of-fact. Ace glanced sideways. "What does that mean?" Shammy considered. Actually considered. The answer wasn't immediate. "Less compressed." Ace blinked. That sounded suspiciously like a Shammy description. Which meant it was probably annoyingly accurate. Before she could answer, Mai spoke. Without looking up from her coffee. "She's right." Two against one. Unfair. Ace frowned toward the skyline. "I don't feel different." That earned a small smile from Mai. Not teasing. Not challenging. Just familiar. "You never notice things immediately." "..." "..." Unfortunately true. Again. --- The conversation faded after that. No analysis. No deeper exploration. Just the observation itself. Left alone. Allowed to exist. Ace found herself appreciating that. Nobody seemed interested in dissecting the experience. Nobody wanted conclusions. For once there was no pressure to understand everything. Just permission to experience it. --- Later that afternoon something happened. Or rather— Nothing happened. And that was important. The three of them ended up back in the living room. A movie played quietly. Some old action film. Half the effects looked ancient. The other half looked impossible. Nobody was paying full attention. Shammy occasionally commented on weather continuity errors. Mai pretended this wasn't happening. Ace read. At some point the movie ended. Another started. The light outside shifted. Hours passed. And only when Ace glanced at the clock did she realize how much time had disappeared. Nearly three hours. Gone. No planning. No responsibilities. No endless internal checklist. Three hours. She sat very still. Book resting forgotten in her lap. The realization felt almost surreal. Not because she had relaxed. Because she hadn't noticed herself doing it. --- Across the room Mai looked up. Their eyes met. Again. The same quiet recognition from the previous evening. But deeper now. Stronger. Because neither of them needed to say anything. The evidence was sitting right there. Three hours. --- For a moment Ace considered mentioning it. Then decided against it. Not because she wanted to hide it. Because she didn't need to. Somehow they already knew. And maybe that was the most remarkable thing about the entire weekend. Not the arrangement. Not the experiment. Not the realization. The trust. The simple certainty that she didn't have to explain every thought. Didn't have to justify every feeling. Didn't have to carry every conclusion alone. The thought settled quietly into place. And remained there. Comfortable. Like it had been waiting a very long time for her to finally make room for it. --- Outside, Night City continued being Night City. Inside, Sunday drifted onward. Slow. Warm. Unhurried. And for the first time since Red Society, Ace stopped wondering why the memory had stayed with her. She already knew. Now she was beginning to understand what it had been trying to tell her. ❤️ --- # Chapter 6 — Settling The realization arrived in the most inconvenient way possible. Ace was happy. Not dramatically. Not enough to sing about it. Not enough to announce it. Just... happy. And because she was Ace, it took her nearly an hour to identify the feeling. --- The afternoon had slipped quietly toward evening. Rain had stayed away. The apartment windows reflected the city instead of hiding it. Somewhere below, traffic flowed through Night City in endless rivers of light. Inside, the apartment remained wrapped in the comfortable stillness that only existed on days when nobody needed anything. Mai sat at the dining table. A tablet rested beside her. Ignored. Shammy occupied the couch. Still. At this point Ace suspected she photosynthesized through upholstery. The evidence was mounting. --- The movie had ended. Nobody started another one. Books appeared. Coffee appeared. Somebody found snacks. The day continued. Without structure. Without purpose. Without needing either. And that was where Ace finally noticed it. Normally she hated wasting time. Today didn't feel wasted. Not even slightly. --- She was sitting cross-legged on the floor when it happened. Book open. Half-finished mug nearby. The city glowing softly beyond the windows. A perfectly ordinary moment. Then a thought arrived. Simple. Unexpected. _I don't want tomorrow to be Monday._ Ace blinked. Looked down at the page. Read the sentence again. Then again. The thought remained. Not because she feared Monday. Not because work would return. Because she didn't want this to end. The realization settled heavily enough that she closed the book entirely. --- Across the room Mai noticed immediately. Of course she did. "Ace?" Ace looked up. Mai had already put her own reading aside. Watching. Waiting. No pressure. Just attention. Ace hesitated. Not because she didn't know what to say. Because she did. And saying it would make it real. --- "I think I understand now." The words emerged quietly. Neither Mai nor Shammy interrupted. Neither rushed her. The apartment seemed to settle around the silence. Waiting. Ace stared briefly toward the windows. Gathering thoughts. For once not because she wanted to avoid the conversation. Because she wanted the words to be right. --- "It wasn't Red Society." Mai remained perfectly still. Shammy did too. Listening. Ace continued. "It wasn't the role." The city lights reflected faintly in the glass. Tiny stars trapped inside Night City's endless machinery. "It wasn't pretending." A longer pause. Then: "It was the quiet." Something shifted in the room. Not externally. Inside. --- Ace looked down at her hands. Then laughed softly. Almost to herself. "I spent two days trying to explain the wrong thing." Mai's expression softened immediately. Not because of the conclusion. Because of the relief underneath it. The relief of finally finding the right words. --- "I thought it was about responsibility." Ace shook her head slightly. "Well... it is." Another pause. "But not exactly." Mai waited. Patient. The way she always did when something mattered. --- Ace searched for the thought. Found it. Held onto it. "I spend so much time making sure nothing falls apart." The sentence hung in the air. Simple. Honest. No drama. No self-pity. Just fact. "And this weekend..." Her gaze moved between them. Mai. Shammy. Home. The apartment. Everything. "...nothing fell apart anyway." The words landed gently. Yet somehow felt heavier than anything else she'd said all weekend. --- Nobody spoke immediately. Nobody needed to. Because for the first time since Friday night, the conversation wasn't about the arrangement anymore. It wasn't even about the weekend. It was about something much older. Something that had existed long before Red Society. Long before Night City. Long before Triad. The simple fact that Ace had been carrying weight for so long she no longer remembered what it felt like without it. --- Shammy was the first to move. Not speak. Move. She crossed the room. Dropped onto the floor beside Ace. Close enough for shoulders to touch. Nothing more. No speech. No observation. Just presence. Atmospheric Vector. Pressure regulation made conscious. Exactly where she belonged. --- Mai followed a moment later. Setting her mug aside. Moving from the table to the floor. Joining them. The three of them sitting together without urgency. Without purpose. Without needing one. --- Ace looked at them. Then away again. The corner of her mouth twitched. "You're both very annoying." Shammy smiled. Mai nodded. Neither denied it. --- The city lights continued flickering beyond the glass. Time moved. Minutes passed. Maybe longer. Nobody checked. For once nobody cared. --- Eventually Ace leaned back. Letting her head rest against the couch. Eyes half-closed. Listening. The apartment. The city. The breathing of the two people beside her. Safe. The thought returned. Simple. Comfortable. Undeniably true. Safe. Not because nothing bad would happen. Something bad always happened eventually. Because when it did, she wouldn't face it alone. --- The realization should not have been new. It was. Not intellectually. Emotionally. And that made all the difference. --- Outside, Night City prepared for another endless night. Inside, the weekend was quietly approaching its end. No grand conclusion. No dramatic revelation. Just a slow understanding settling into place. Ace had not discovered a new side of herself. She had rediscovered an old need. One she had ignored for far too long. And now that she finally recognized it... She suspected she would never entirely forget it again. ❤️ --- # Chapter 7 — The Realization Monday arrived quietly. Which felt rude. --- Ace woke before the alarm. Again. Some habits were apparently immortal. For several seconds she remained where she was. Warm blankets. The familiar weight of bodies nearby. The faint grey light of morning filtering through the curtains. The apartment still half asleep. The weekend still present. Barely. The feeling lasted only a moment. Then reality arrived. Monday. Work. Messages. Responsibilities. The world. Waiting patiently outside the door. --- Ace lay there. Listening. Not dreading it. Just acknowledging it. The difference surprised her. Normally the return of responsibility felt automatic. Like armor snapping back into place. Necessary. Immediate. Today there was a gap. A pause. Small. But real. --- Eventually Mai stirred. A quiet shift beneath the blankets. Silver hair escaping in every direction. Ace watched. Mai opened one eye. Then the other. Immediately finding her. Of course. "Morning." "Morning." A pause. Then: "You were thinking." It wasn't a question. Ace groaned. "You're impossible." "Correct." The answer arrived without hesitation. Which was infuriating. --- Shammy made a noise from somewhere beneath the blankets. A noise suggesting she objected to the continued existence of mornings. Entirely reasonable. --- The apartment gradually woke around them. Coffee. Showers. Breakfast. The slow return of routine. The familiar rhythm of normal life beginning again. Nothing dramatic. Nothing unusual. Which somehow made everything feel more important. --- The first message arrived while they were eating. An ordinary thing. One of many. The world reasserting itself. Ace heard the notification. Looked toward it. And stopped. Not because somebody stopped her. Not because Mai said anything. Not because of the weekend. Because she didn't need to be first. The realization came and went almost instantly. Small. Easy to miss. Yet there. Mai reached for the message. Read it. Made a face. Handed the device over. "Kiro?" "Kiro." Ace read three lines. Closed her eyes. Slowly. Atlantis had apparently returned. Again. --- Some things never changed. --- The rest of the morning followed the same pattern. Tasks appeared. Plans formed. The ordinary machinery of life resumed operation. Yet something remained different. Not visible. Not dramatic. Just present. --- At one point Ace found herself standing by the apartment windows. Looking out over Night City. The skyline stretched toward the horizon. Towers. Smoke. Neon. Endless movement. The city never stopped demanding things from people. That was what it did. What it always would do. --- Footsteps approached quietly. Mai. She stopped beside her. Close enough for shoulders to touch. Neither spoke immediately. The city provided enough noise for both of them. --- Eventually: "You look disappointed." Ace glanced sideways. "I do not." Mai waited. Patient. Infuriatingly patient. Ace looked back toward the skyline. "...maybe a little." The admission felt harmless now. Not dangerous. Not vulnerable. Just true. --- Mai's shoulder brushed hers. The smallest contact. Barely noticeable. Except to Ace. "Good." Ace frowned. "What does that mean?" "It means the weekend mattered." Simple. Matter-of-fact. Entirely Mai. --- Ace stared out at the city. Thinking. Then slowly nodded. Because there wasn't really anything else to say. The weekend had mattered. More than she expected. More than she had understood on Friday night. --- Behind them Shammy wandered into the room carrying coffee. Still wrapped in enough fabric to qualify as a mobile blanket fort. She stopped. Observed both of them. Took one sip. Then smiled. Small. Warm. Knowing. --- Ace pointed immediately. "No." "I didn't say anything." "You were about to." "I genuinely wasn't." "Lie." Shammy took another sip. Still smiling. Not pushing. Not teasing. Just... happy. And somehow that was worse. --- The three of them stood there for a while. Watching the city. Watching the morning. Watching the next chapter of life begin. No ceremony. No promises. No declarations. Those weren't necessary. --- Eventually work would come. Jobs. Anomalies. Night City. WWC causing property damage on a scale previously believed theoretical. The universe would resume being itself. There was no avoiding that. --- But now there was something else too. Something Ace carried away from the weekend. Not a lesson. Not a rule. Not a new arrangement. Something simpler. The knowledge that she could put the weight down sometimes. And that the people she trusted most would catch it before it hit the ground. --- Outside, Night City roared. Inside, the apartment remained warm. For one last moment. One last breath. One last piece of stillness. Before the world began again. And this time— Ace let it. ❤️ **END**