The Badlands stretched endlessly beneath a fading orange sky. Panam liked days like this. No gunfire. No corpos. No malfunctioning tech that wanted to explode halfway through a delivery. Just road. The engine hummed beneath her hands as the truck rolled across cracked asphalt, dust trailing behind her in a long golden cloud. The cargo had been delivered hours ago. The paperwork had been signed. The client had been boring. Perfect. A rare thing. The radio muttered quietly in the background while the last light of afternoon painted the desert in copper and rust. For once, Panam wasn't thinking about work. That alone should have worried her. Instead she found herself thinking about Safehouse. Not intentionally. The thought had simply appeared. Marco trying to convince everyone that some bizarre Pacifica street food was edible. Kiro disappearing into a dataterm and forgetting that sleep existed. Ace stealing food off other people's plates whenever she thought nobody was looking. Mai noticing immediately. Shammy laughing. The memory pulled a smile from her before she realized it. "Damn it." The smile stayed anyway. The truck crested a low ridge. Below, scattered among old industrial ruins and half-buried fuel tanks, Dakota's yard appeared. Home base. Or one of them. The thought arrived so naturally she almost missed it. One of them. Panam frowned. The truck rolled through the gate. Workers moved between vehicles. A pair of mechanics argued beside an old transport hauler. Someone shouted about a missing toolbox. Everything looked exactly as it always did. Normal. Reliable. Badlands. Panam parked near the main garage and climbed out. The warm desert wind greeted her immediately. A familiar voice followed seconds later. "Delivery done?" Dakota stood near the garage entrance, coffee mug in hand. Panam nodded. "Done." "Problems?" "No." Dakota raised an eyebrow. "No problems?" "No problems." "Nobody shot at you?" "No." "No gang ambush?" "No." "No cyberpsycho?" "No." "No eldritch nightmare trying to crawl out of a fuel depot?" Panam folded her arms. "Very funny." Dakota studied her for a moment. Long enough to become suspicious. "You're in a good mood." Panam blinked. "What?" "You're in a good mood." "I'm always in a good mood." Dakota snorted. Several nearby mechanics laughed without looking up from their work. Traitors. Panam pointed at them. "You people suck." One of the mechanics immediately pointed back. "You're smiling." Panam looked horrified. The mechanic nodded. "Exactly." Dakota hid a grin behind her coffee mug. That somehow made everything worse. "Okay," Panam muttered. "Maybe the job wasn't terrible." "Hm." Dakota took another sip. Still watching. Still thinking. Panam recognized that look. It usually meant Dakota was assembling pieces of something. Sometimes that led to money. Sometimes it led to trouble. Sometimes both. Unfortunately, experience suggested both was the most likely outcome. Dakota finally lowered the mug. "Coffee." Panam narrowed her eyes. "That's not a question." "No." "That wasn't even a sentence." "It worked." Panam sighed. It really had. Dakota turned toward the office. "Come on." And just like that, Panam knew her quiet afternoon was over. --- Dakota's office had never tried very hard to become an office. A desk. Three chairs that didn't match. A filing cabinet old enough to qualify as an archaeological discovery. A coffee machine that sounded vaguely hostile whenever somebody used it. That was about it. Panam dropped into the nearest chair while Dakota disappeared behind the desk. The coffee machine immediately began growling. Panam pointed at it. "One day that thing is going to kill somebody." "It tried." Panam blinked. "What?" "Twice." "The hell do you mean twice?" Dakota poured coffee into two battered mugs. "It knows what it did." Panam stared. Dakota remained completely serious. Which somehow made the statement more concerning. The coffee arrived a few seconds later. Strong enough to dissolve metal. Exactly the way Dakota preferred it. Panam took a sip. Immediately regretted it. Dakota watched. "Still terrible?" "Still terrible." "Good." "How is that good?" "If it ever tastes pleasant, I'll know it's broken." There was no arguing with that kind of logic. Panam settled back in her chair. The office window overlooked the yard. Mechanics moved between vehicles. A pair of couriers loaded supplies into a transport van. Somewhere outside, somebody shouted profanity involving a fuel pump and a wrench. Business as usual. For several minutes neither woman said much. Just coffee. Just silence. The comfortable kind. The kind that only happened after years of working together. Panam eventually glanced over her mug. "Okay." Dakota looked up. "Okay?" "What's this actually about?" Dakota sipped her coffee. "This is coffee." "You know what I mean." "I do." Another sip. Another long pause. Panam narrowed her eyes. Dakota was enjoying herself. The realization was deeply upsetting. "You are." "What?" "Enjoying this." "A little." Panam groaned. "Unbelievable." Dakota smiled faintly. Then she looked out the window. At the yard. At the workers. At the vehicles coming and going. Thinking. Always thinking. Finally she asked: "What exactly do you do these days?" Panam blinked. The question was so ordinary it took a second to process. "What?" "What do you do?" "I'm a courier." Dakota nodded. Nothing else. No reaction. No argument. Just a nod. Which immediately made Panam suspicious. "Oh, come on." Dakota raised an eyebrow. "Come on what?" "That look." "What look?" "That look." Dakota's expression remained perfectly innocent. A terrible sign. Panam pointed a finger. "I know that look." Dakota leaned back slightly. "You're a courier." "Yes." "Hm." There it was. That little sound. The same sound Dakota made whenever she was about to dismantle somebody's argument with industrial-grade precision. Panam sighed. Here we go. Dakota opened a drawer. Not because she needed anything. Just because she could. The movement bought her another second. Then: "How many courier jobs involve helping netrunners reorganize their apartment?" Panam froze. "Oh no." Dakota ignored her. "How many courier jobs involve spending half a day carrying old servers because somebody named Kiro forgot she owned furniture?" "That happened once." Dakota lifted one finger. "Three times." Panam immediately hated that Dakota knew the exact number. Dakota continued. "How many courier jobs involve driving into Night City just to deliver homemade food to Marco because Lena was busy?" Panam opened her mouth. Closed it again. Dakota kept going. Mercilessly. "How many courier jobs involve emergency pickups for Ace?" "Those don't count." "They absolutely count." "Those were favors." Dakota pointed at her. "Exactly." Panam stopped. Because that wasn't helping. Dakota waited. Patient. Calm. Like somebody watching a trap close slowly. Then she asked another question. Gentler this time. More dangerous. "When was the last time you visited Safehouse?" Panam answered automatically. "Three days ago." The words escaped before she realized it. Dakota nodded. "When before that?" Panam frowned. "...week before." "And before that?" Panam thought. The answer came immediately. Which was somehow worse. Dakota saw it happen. The realization. The speed. The fact that Panam no longer had to think about it. Safehouse wasn't a special destination anymore. It was simply somewhere she went. The office grew quiet. Outside, a truck engine started. Somebody laughed. Life continued. Inside, Dakota simply watched. Not judging. Not pushing. Just observing. Panam stared into her coffee. A strange feeling had started creeping into the conversation. Like she was walking across a bridge she hadn't noticed until she was already halfway over it. And she wasn't entirely sure what waited on the other side. Dakota finally spoke again. Softly. "What about the others?" Panam looked up. "The others?" "Ace." A pause. "Mai." Another. "Shammy." The pause became slightly longer. "Kiro." "Marco." "Lena." Dakota folded her arms. "How often do you see them these days?" Panam opened her mouth. Stopped. Thought. Counted. Realized. And for the first time that afternoon, she genuinely didn't like where the conversation seemed to be going. --- Panam didn't answer immediately. Dakota wasn't surprised. The silence itself was becoming informative. Outside, somebody dropped a toolbox. A string of profanity followed. Neither woman paid attention. Dakota simply waited. Eventually Panam sighed. "Too often." Dakota nodded. "Interesting answer." "I know what you're doing." "Good." "I still don't like it." "Also good." Panam rubbed her forehead. This was starting to feel less like a conversation and more like being slowly dismantled with professional tools. Dakota looked entirely too comfortable about it. "Let's try again." Panam groaned. Dakota ignored her. "Ace." Panam snorted immediately. That answer came easily. "Ace is trouble." "Not what I asked." "I know." Dakota waited. "Ace calls." Panam shrugged. "I usually answer." "Why?" The answer arrived before she could stop it. "Because if Ace is calling, something probably exploded." Dakota nodded. Reasonable. Then: "And if it didn't?" Panam paused. "...I'd still answer." Dakota filed that away. No comment. No reaction. Just another piece added to the puzzle. "Mai." Panam laughed softly. A very different laugh. "Mai terrifies me." Dakota actually smiled. "Good." "You say that like it's healthy." "It probably is." Panam shook her head. "That woman notices everything." "She does." "I don't think she's physically capable of missing details." Dakota considered that. "No." "Exactly." The smile lingered briefly. Then faded. Because neither of them had missed the fact that Panam was smiling while talking about people. That hadn't always been true. Dakota moved on. "Kiro." Panam immediately groaned. A genuine, heartfelt groan. "Oh, no." Dakota raised an eyebrow. "Oh, yes." "That woman nearly got me killed by a refrigerator." Dakota blinked. "...what?" Panam pointed. "Exactly." Dakota stared. Panam stared back. Several seconds passed. Then Dakota slowly nodded. "I don't think I want the explanation." "You really don't." Dakota accepted this immediately. Experience had taught her that some stories involving Triad-adjacent people were safer left unexplored. Still. The expression on Panam's face had changed again. Annoyance. Affection. Exasperation. Familiarity. All mixed together. Dakota noticed. Another piece. Another thread. Another connection. "Marco." Panam relaxed immediately. The change was subtle. But obvious. Dakota saw it. Panam didn't. "Marco's easy." Dakota nodded. "Most people say that." "He just..." Panam stopped. Searching for words. "He makes things normal." Dakota's expression softened slightly. "That's rare." "Yeah." A small silence followed. One that didn't need filling. Then: "Lena." Panam smiled. A different smile this time. Smaller. Quieter. "Lena's dangerous." Dakota laughed. Actually laughed. "Now that's not a sentence I expected today." "I'm serious." "How?" Panam pointed toward the window. Toward the yard. Toward the endless movement outside. "The world is constantly on fire." Dakota nodded. Accurate. "Lena somehow makes people forget that for a few hours." Dakota's laughter disappeared. Because she understood exactly what Panam meant. And because Panam was right. Very few people possessed that particular skill. Another thread. Another connection. Dakota let the silence settle. Then deliberately picked up the last remaining name. Not because she had forgotten it. Because she had saved it. "Reyes." Panam froze. Just slightly. But enough. Dakota noticed. Of course she noticed. Panam immediately regretted existing. Dakota took a sip of coffee. Carefully hiding a smile. "Interesting." "Oh, shut up." "I didn't say anything." "You were thinking it." "I was." Panam groaned. Dakota remained completely unhelpful. "What about Reyes?" Panam stared into her mug. Long enough to become suspicious. Then longer. Long enough to become revealing. Dakota waited. Patiently. Finally: "Reyes is..." Panam stopped. Tried again. "Complicated." Dakota nodded. The answer was honest. Which made it useful. "Complicated how?" Panam immediately pointed at her. "No." "No?" "No." Dakota looked disappointed. It was entirely fake. Which somehow made it worse. Panam leaned back. Searching for words. Eventually she found them. "She's one of the few people I know who understands why Ace is the way she is." Dakota's expression shifted. That answer she hadn't expected. Panam continued. "Not academically." "Not theoretically." "Just..." She searched again. "...instinctively." Dakota nodded slowly. Because that made sense. Reyes and Ace were very different people. And yet not as different as either would probably admit. Panam sighed. "Anyway." Dakota smiled faintly. Anyway. Right. Sure. The conversation paused. The office grew quiet again. The list was finished. Ace. Mai. Shammy. Kiro. Marco. Lena. Reyes. One after another. One connection after another. One thread after another. Dakota sat back. Looking at Panam. Looking at the entire invisible map that had gradually appeared between them. And for the first time since the conversation began, Panam understood exactly what Dakota had been building. Not a list. Not an audit. Not an interrogation. A map. And every road on it seemed to lead back to her. --- Dakota let the silence linger. Not because she needed time. Because Panam did. The map was already there now. Spread across the room without a single piece of paper. Names. Faces. Roads. Connections. A life. Not the one Panam had started with. The one she had built. The realization sat between them. Quietly. Heavily. Outside, the sun continued its slow descent toward the horizon. Orange light spilled through the office window. Dust drifted lazily through the air. For a while neither woman spoke. Then Dakota casually shattered the silence. "Do you love her?" Panam blinked. Once. Twice. The question landed so abruptly that her brain needed a second to catch up. "What?" Dakota remained perfectly calm. "Do you love her?" Panam frowned. "Love who?" Dakota stared at her. Just stared. Three seconds. Four. Five. Long enough for Panam to realize exactly how stupid that response had been. Dakota finally sighed. "Panam." A pause. "Don't insult both of us." Panam groaned immediately. "Oh, come on." "No." "Dakota—" "No." Panam dropped her head into one hand. The woman wasn't going to let her escape. Of course she wasn't. Dakota had spent years dealing with stubborn nomads. Panam was not her first rodeo. Unfortunately. Another long silence settled. Neither woman looked away. Eventually Panam exhaled. Slowly. Defeated. Not because Dakota was right. Because Dakota was right and both of them knew it. "Yeah." The word came out quietly. Honest. Simple. No drama. No speech. Just truth. Dakota waited. Panam rolled her eyes. Then corrected herself. "Yeah." A tiny smile tugged briefly at the corner of her mouth. "I do." The office became very still. Dakota nodded once. Took a sip of coffee. And moved on. No congratulations. No teasing. No approval. No warning. Nothing. Which somehow hit harder than any reaction would have. Because it meant Dakota had never been uncertain. The answer had been obvious. The question had never been about discovering it. Panam slowly sat back. "You know, normal people usually say something after that." Dakota raised an eyebrow. "Like what?" "I don't know." "Congratulations?" "Maybe." Dakota thought for a second. Then shrugged. "Congratulations." Panam laughed despite herself. "There it is." "Feel better?" "No." "Good." Panam pointed at her. "You're impossible." Dakota accepted this as a compliment. A moment later she set the mug down. The amusement faded. Not completely. Just enough. Then came the next sentence. The important one. "Then stop pretending." Panam frowned. "Pretending what?" Dakota leaned back slightly. "That you're still living the same life you were before." The words hit harder than the question had. Because they landed somewhere deeper. Somewhere uncomfortably accurate. Panam looked away. Toward the window. Toward the yard. Toward the roads beyond it. For years the answer had been easy. Courier. Nomad. Aldecaldo. Keep moving. Keep driving. Keep surviving. Simple. Clear. Predictable. Now? Now there was Safehouse. Now there was Shammy. Now there was Orbit. Now there were people she checked on for no reason beyond wanting to know they were okay. People who called her. People she called back. People she worried about. People who worried about her. The realization felt strange. Not bad. Just unfamiliar. Dakota watched it happen. The gears turning. The pieces settling. Then she asked another question. One far more dangerous than the first. "If somebody forced you to choose." Panam immediately hated where this was going. Dakota continued anyway. "Aldecaldos." A finger. "My network." Another. "Safehouse." Another. "Night City." Another. "Shammy." The last one landed with deliberate precision. Dakota folded her arms. "If only one survives." A pause. "Which one stays?" Panam's answer arrived instantly. And not at all. Because every answer was wrong. Aldecaldos? No. Impossible. Dakota? No. Safehouse? No. Shammy? Absolutely not. Night City? Also no. The realization struck with surprising force. She couldn't choose. Not because she lacked an answer. Because she wanted all of them. Every single one. The office remained silent. Dakota already knew. Panam could tell. That was the whole point. The question wasn't a test. The question was a mirror. And Panam didn't particularly enjoy what it was showing her. "...that's not fair." Dakota nodded. "No." Another pause. Then: "It wasn't supposed to be." For the first time since entering the office, Panam had absolutely no response. And Dakota knew she was finally getting somewhere. --- Dakota let the silence sit for a while. Not because she was waiting for an answer. Because there wasn't one. Not a real one. Panam had already proven that. Outside, the yard continued moving. Vehicles came and went. Workers shouted. Engines growled. Life happened. Inside the office, something much quieter was taking shape. Dakota finally reached for her coffee again. Cold now. She drank it anyway. Panam looked mildly horrified. "That's disgusting." Dakota shrugged. "Still coffee." "No." "Close enough." Panam shook her head. "One day I'm reporting you to somebody." "Good luck finding anyone who cares." Unfortunately, Dakota was probably right. The conversation drifted for a moment. Just enough to release some pressure. Then Dakota set the mug down. And finally answered the question Panam hadn't asked. "You know why I brought this up?" Panam looked at her. "Because you enjoy psychological warfare?" "A little." "I knew it." "A little." Panam pointed accusingly. Dakota ignored it. Then her expression softened. Not dramatically. Just enough. "No." A pause. "Because I've been watching." That got Panam's attention. Dakota nodded toward the yard outside. Toward the roads beyond it. Toward everything. "You remember what you were like when I first met you?" Panam immediately groaned. "Oh no." Dakota continued anyway. "Angry." "Fair." "Stubborn." "Still fair." "Convinced asking for help was a sign of weakness." Panam opened her mouth. Stopped. Closed it again. Dakota's raised eyebrow did not help. "...okay." "Very stubborn." "Okay." Dakota nodded. There we go. Progress. "You were good." Panam shrugged. "I survived." "You did." Dakota's voice remained calm. Matter-of-fact. The tone she used when discussing roads, weather, and truths nobody particularly wanted to hear. "You survived because you knew how to keep moving." Panam nodded. That much was true. "Problem is," Dakota continued, "people who spend too long surviving eventually forget how to stop." The sentence hung in the air. Panam looked away. Because that one landed. Hard. Dakota saw it. Kept going. "When I met you, every road led somewhere." Another pause. "Now every road leads to someone." The office became very quiet. Panam stared at the floor. Not because she disagreed. Because she didn't. Dakota leaned back. Watching. Waiting. Giving the realization room to breathe. Eventually Panam laughed softly. Once. A single short sound. "That's annoyingly insightful." Dakota nodded. "I know." "Still hate it." "I know." Panam sighed. The woman was impossible. Then Dakota pointed toward the map display mounted on the far wall. An old thing. Half digital. Half patched together. Like most of Dakota's operation. Roads spread across the Badlands. Supply routes. Courier lines. Nomad tracks. Smuggling corridors. Invisible infrastructure made visible. Dakota stood. Walked over. Tapped one route. "Aldecaldos." Another. "My network." Another. "Night City." Another. "Safehouse." Panam watched. Still not seeing where this was going. Then Dakota turned. "Tell me something." Panam sighed. "That usually means trouble." "Probably." Dakota crossed her arms. "What happens if I need to get something to Safehouse?" Panam blinked. "What?" "Humor me." Panam thought. "Call me." Dakota nodded. "What if Kiro needs something delivered to the Aldecaldos?" Panam frowned. "...call me." "What if Marco needs something picked up outside city limits?" Panam's expression slowly changed. Dakota continued. "What if Lena needs somebody she trusts?" "...call me." "What if Ace gets herself into trouble?" Panam snorted. "Definitely call me." "What if Mai calls?" "Also call me." Dakota nodded. Exactly. Then she pointed at Panam. Not the map. Not the routes. Panam. "You keep thinking you're a courier." The office went still. Dakota's voice remained calm. Measured. Certain. The same certainty she used when talking about road conditions before a storm. "Courier moves packages." She tapped the map. "Road moves vehicles." Another tap. "Network moves information." Then she pointed at Panam again. "You move people." Panam froze. Dakota continued. Not giving her a chance to interrupt. "You connect worlds that normally don't touch." "Aldecaldos trust you." "My people trust you." "Safehouse trusts you." "The Orbit trusts you." Even Reyes. The name arrived naturally. Almost casually. But Dakota knew exactly why she included it. "Even that stubborn redhead trusts you more than she'll ever admit." Panam barked a surprised laugh. "Good luck getting her to admit anything." "Exactly." Dakota smiled faintly. Then the smile faded. Leaving only the truth behind. "That's why I asked." Panam stared at her. Dakota nodded toward the map one final time. "You aren't choosing between these roads anymore." A pause. Then the sentence that had been waiting since the beginning of the conversation. The sentence that finally put a name to everything. "You're the bridge." Silence. No dramatic music. No revelation. No cosmic realization. Just a small office. Bad coffee. Dust drifting through evening sunlight. And one sentence. Panam sat there staring at the map. At the routes. At the names. At the life she had somehow built without noticing. Aldecaldos. Dakota. Night City. Safehouse. Shammy. Orbit. All of it. Not separate worlds anymore. Connected ones. And somehow, somewhere along the way, she'd become one of the things holding those connections together. The realization was unexpectedly heavy. Not because it felt wrong. Because it felt right. Dakota saw it happen. The exact moment. The exact second. When Panam stopped arguing. And simply understood. For once, neither of them had anything left to say. --- Panam didn't leave immediately. That surprised her more than anything else. Normally conversations ended. Then people moved. Work waited. Roads waited. Life kept rolling. That was how things worked. Instead she found herself sitting quietly while the last sunlight slipped across the office floor. Dakota didn't interrupt. Didn't push. Didn't elaborate. The point had already landed. Anything else would have made it weaker. So they sat. Drank increasingly terrible coffee. And watched evening settle across the Badlands. Eventually Panam stood. Dakota glanced up. "Heading out?" Panam nodded. "Yeah." A pause. Then: "Thanks." Dakota raised an eyebrow. "For what?" Panam pointed vaguely around the room. "The existential crisis." Dakota nodded thoughtfully. "You're welcome." "You're impossible." "Still true." Panam laughed. Shook her head. And left. --- The drive back was quiet. No radio. No calls. No messages. Just engine noise. Wind. Road. The Badlands stretched endlessly beneath a sky full of stars. Normally Panam loved driving because it gave her something to focus on. Tonight it was the opposite. Tonight there was nothing to distract her. Which meant she was left alone with her thoughts. Dangerous territory. She replayed the conversation. The names. The questions. The map. The bridge. Part of her wanted to dismiss the entire thing as Dakota being Dakota. Unfortunately, reality kept getting in the way. Because the more she thought about it, the more examples appeared. Safehouse. The first few visits had been occasional. Then regular. Then normal. Now she sometimes stopped there without even having a reason. Just because she wanted to. Shammy. That one wasn't exactly a mystery anymore. The memory of Dakota's question made her smile despite herself. Yeah. That answer had been easy. Embarrassing. But easy. Then there were the others. Kiro sending increasingly questionable messages at three in the morning. Marco somehow convincing entire rooms to relax. Lena quietly making sure everybody survived their own bad habits. Mai noticing things Panam hadn't even realized she'd revealed. Ace... Panam laughed softly. Ace was still Ace. A force of nature compressed into approximately four feet of concentrated trouble. The image followed her all the way down the road. And then there was Reyes. The thought arrived unexpectedly. Panam found herself smiling again. That happened more often than she'd admit. The stubborn merc had somehow become part of the landscape too. Not because they were similar. Because they understood pieces of the same world. The dangerous pieces. The survival pieces. The parts most people never talked about. Dakota had been right about one thing. The connections were everywhere now. Some obvious. Some quiet. All real. --- The night passed. Morning arrived. Another job. Another route. Another day. The universe, unfortunately, refused to stop functioning simply because somebody had experienced personal growth. Panam climbed into her vehicle just after sunrise. The engine came alive beneath her hands. Familiar. Comforting. Reliable. For a few seconds she sat there looking through the windshield. At the horizon. At the roads stretching away in every direction. Then her gaze drifted toward the navigation display. A simple thing. A map. Thousands of kilometers of roads. Routes. Destinations. For years that had been all she saw. Places. Points. Jobs. Coordinates. Now? Now she saw people. Aldecaldos. Dakota. Night City. Safehouse. Orbit. Shammy. Friends. Family. Connections. The roads themselves suddenly felt secondary. Because the destinations weren't what mattered anymore. The people waiting at them did. A slow smile appeared. Small. Private. Real. Then she started the drive. --- Dakota was standing outside when the vehicle rolled past the yard entrance. She raised a hand. Panam slowed just enough to hear her. "Hey." Panam leaned toward the open window. "What?" Dakota pointed. Accusingly. "Tell Shammy she still owes me a bottle." Panam immediately laughed. "There it is." Dakota folded her arms. "There what is?" "The real reason for this entire conversation." Dakota looked offended. A complete lie. Panam grinned. "The bottle." "The bottle." "The one you lost." Dakota pointed again. "Allegedly." "You absolutely lost it." "Details." Panam shook her head. Still laughing. The vehicle rolled forward. Dakota remained standing beside the road. Watching. Satisfied. Not because she'd changed anything. Because she'd finally put a name to something that already existed. The truck picked up speed. Dust rose behind it. Badlands opened ahead. Wide. Endless. Familiar. Home. One of them. Panam smiled. Then drove toward the next one. --- ### EPILOGUE — SAFEHOUSE Evening. A few days later. No job. No crisis. No apocalypse. A situation that immediately felt suspicious. --- Panam pushed open the Safehouse door. The familiar sounds hit her almost immediately. Kiro. Somewhere deeper inside the building. Arguing with technology. Or technology arguing with Kiro. It was often difficult to determine which had started it. --- From the kitchen came the smell of food. Marco was laughing at something. Lena was attempting to prevent whatever Marco was doing from becoming a disaster. A well-established division of labor. --- In the living area, Reyes occupied part of the couch with the confidence of somebody who technically didn't live here but had long since stopped caring. Agent in hand. Eyes on the screen. Awareness everywhere else. --- She glanced up as Panam entered. A single nod. --- "You're late." --- Panam dropped her bag beside the door. --- "Good to see you too." --- "Wasn't a compliment." --- "Sure." --- Reyes returned her attention to the agent. A faint smile appeared anyway. For about half a second. --- Panam moved farther inside. The atmosphere felt familiar. Comfortable. Lived in. The kind of place that developed naturally when enough people spent enough time refusing to leave. --- Then she saw Shammy. --- Standing near the open patio door. Evening light painted silver edges along her hair. A faint electric shimmer flickered through the air around her. Barely visible. Panam noticed it every time. --- Shammy looked up. Smiled. --- "Hey." --- One word. Nothing more. --- Panam smiled back. --- "Hey." --- No dramatic reunion. No cinematic moment. No running embrace. --- Because this wasn't a reunion. --- It was coming home. --- The realization caught her completely off guard. For a second she simply stood there. Listening. Watching. Existing. --- Dakota's words drifted back into her mind. --- _Most people spend their whole lives looking for one place to belong._ _You somehow managed to collect several._ --- Panam looked around. --- Kiro was still arguing with something electronic. Marco was laughing. Lena was trying to keep dinner alive. Reyes was pretending not to listen to any of it. Ace was almost certainly somewhere nearby causing trouble. Mai undoubtedly knew exactly where Ace was. And Shammy was still looking at her with that small, impossible smile. --- "What?" Shammy asked. --- Panam walked closer. Stopping beside her. --- "Nothing." --- This time she meant it. --- Because for the first time in a very long while, nothing was missing. Not right now. --- The Safehouse breathed around her. Life. People. Connections. Noise. Calm. --- And suddenly Panam realized Dakota had been wrong about one thing. --- She hadn't built several homes. --- She had built one. --- It simply happened to stretch much farther than she had ever imagined.