## Chapter 1 — About a Week The message arrived while Reyes was doing absolutely nothing important. That was probably why she noticed it immediately. She was sitting sideways on one of the Safehouse kitchen chairs with coffee in one hand and her agent in the other, half-listening to Brenda doing something in the workroom that occasionally produced a metallic sound followed by silence. The silence was usually more concerning. Across the table, Iris was reading something. Mai was making coffee. Ace had somehow acquired food without Reyes seeing where it came from. Shammy was leaning against the counter, sketching something on a pad balanced against one forearm. Normal morning. Reyes's agent vibrated. She looked down. **Panam.** Not unusual. The account was Birgitta's. Also not unusual anymore. Reyes opened it. > `got a run next week` A second message followed. > `long one` Reyes smiled. Her thumb moved. > `How long?` Panam answered almost immediately. > `about a week` Reyes stopped. Not dramatically. Just enough that the coffee cup remained halfway to her mouth. About a week. Her eyes moved toward nothing in particular. Victor. Seven days. The thought connected so cleanly that she almost laughed. At the end of the last Birgitta run, Victor had mentioned it almost casually. The newer voice work was holding better than expected. If Reyes wanted Birgitta active for longer, he could push the biosculpt to a stable seven-day window without the voice beginning to relax back toward Reyes halfway through. Seven days. At the time, it had been interesting. Useful. Potentially profitable. Now Panam had just dropped exactly the right length of time into her messages. Reyes lowered the coffee. Shammy looked up from her sketch. Not at Reyes. At the coffee. Then at Reyes. Then back to the sketch. Reyes narrowed her eyes. Shammy's mouth moved very slightly. Reyes ignored her. She looked back at the messages. > `Where?` Panam took longer with that one. > `south mostly` > > `couple pickups outside the usual route` > > `dakota has three jobs stacked and i picked up two more` > > `probably seven days` > > `maybe little over if roads are shit` Reyes read it twice. Then: > `Sounds glamorous.` The typing indicator appeared. > `fuck you` Reyes smiled. > `I haven't even started.` Typing. Stopped. Typing again. > `that's what worries me` Reyes took a drink of coffee. Across the table, Iris glanced up. “You look pleased.” Reyes looked at her. “Do I?” “Yes.” Ace looked over immediately. “With what?” “Coffee.” Ace looked at Reyes's cup. Then at Mai. Then back at Reyes. “That isn't Mai's coffee.” “No.” “So you're lying.” Reyes stared at her. Ace bit into whatever she had stolen from somewhere. “Just establishing facts.” Mai put a fresh cup down in front of Shammy. “You could try minding your own business.” Ace looked at her. “I could.” Nobody waited for the second half. Ace smiled. “I won't.” Reyes looked back at her agent. Panam had sent another message. > `you'd hate it` Reyes raised an eyebrow. > `Would I?` > `truck` > > `road` > > `bad coffee` > > `worse food` > > `clients who think "between nine and ten" means whenever the fuck they feel like showing up` > > `probably at least one motel where the shower is a crime` Reyes smiled wider. > `You make a compelling case.` > `i'm serious` That changed the rhythm slightly. Reyes sat a little straighter. > `I know.` The typing indicator appeared. Disappeared. Appeared again. Reyes waited. > `it's not a date` She looked at that. Then: > `Panam, I know what courier work is.` Typing. > `you know what merc work is` Reyes's smile sharpened. > `I've done some other things.` Panam did not answer for several seconds. Then: > `some` Reyes laughed quietly. Ace looked over. Reyes pointed at her without looking up. “No.” “I didn't say anything.” “You were going to.” “Probably.” Reyes returned to the conversation. > `Are you trying to talk me out of something I haven't asked to do?` The typing indicator appeared. Stopped. Appeared again. Stopped. Reyes's eyebrows rose. Interesting. She waited. Nothing. So she typed: > `Want company?` And sent it. The typing indicator appeared immediately. Vanished. Appeared. Vanished again. Reyes took another drink. Shammy looked up. This time directly at her. Reyes met her eyes. Shammy's gaze dropped deliberately to Reyes's agent. Then returned to Reyes. Reyes gave her a very small warning look. Shammy smiled. Ace noticed. “What?” “Nothing,” Shammy said. Ace looked between them. “That was absolutely something.” “Nope.” “You both suck.” Mai handed Ace a coffee. Ace immediately forgot the investigation. Reyes's agent still showed nothing. Then— typing. Gone. Reyes waited. Typing again. She bit the inside of her cheek. Finally: > `you mean come with me?` Reyes stared at the message. > `That is generally what company means.` > `for the whole run` > `That's generally what a week means.` Typing. Stopped. Reyes was beginning to enjoy this far too much. > `Birgitta` She waited. > `Panam.` Another long pause. Then: > `yes` Reyes's expression softened. One word. No attempt to make it casual. No joke attached. Just yes. She let it sit for a moment before answering. > `Okay.` Panam responded quickly now. > `okay?` > `Okay.` > `you know this is actual work` > `You've mentioned.` > `not jig-jig` Reyes nearly choked on her coffee. Iris looked up. “You all right?” Reyes swallowed. “Yes.” She typed: > `Thank you for clarifying that your courier truck is not secretly a joytoy booth.` The typing indicator flashed. > `that's not what i meant` > `It is exactly what you wrote.` > `you know what i meant` > `I do. I'm enjoying this version more.` Panam took several seconds. > `menace` Reyes smiled. > `You asked me out twice. This is your fault.` Nothing. Then: > `you asked this time` Reyes's thumb stopped. That landed differently. She read it again. You asked this time. True. The first time, Panam had spent six days failing to answer a message properly before finally asking Birgitta out. Then another morning. Now Reyes had seen an opening and stepped through it herself. Not because Panam needed help. Not because there was an operation. Not because anyone had assigned her. Because she wanted to spend a week with Panam. The realization wasn't frightening. It was simply larger when stated plainly. She typed: > `Yes. I did.` Panam's reply came after a short pause. > `good` Reyes looked at that for longer than necessary. Then another message appeared. > `tuesday` > > `0600` Reyes grimaced. > `I withdraw my offer.` > `too late` > `Cruel.` > `bring coffee` > `Now we're negotiating.` > `and actual boots` Reyes looked down at her feet. Then toward Shammy. Shammy had returned to drawing. Apparently. Reyes knew better. > `My boots are actual boots.` Panam answered immediately. > `your birgitta boots are a lawsuit` Reyes laughed. > `They are excellent boots.` > `for standing still and ruining people's judgment` Reyes paused. Then: > `They ruined yours.` The typing indicator appeared. Stopped. Appeared again. Reyes grinned. > `actual boots` That was all Panam managed. Reyes let her escape. > `Fine.` A moment. Then: > `Seven days?` Panam answered: > `probably` > > `maybe eight` > > `depends` > > `roads` > > `clients` > > `truck` > > `life being an asshole` Reyes considered Victor's warning. Seven days stable. After that, gradual relaxation. Not instant failure. Not dangerous. But something she'd need to account for. > `I can make that work.` Panam replied: > `sure?` Reyes looked at the word. There it was again. Not professional concern. Not entirely. She knew Panam well enough now to hear the question underneath it. A week. Not one evening. Not dinner. Not a booking. Not waking together once and discovering the other woman hadn't disappeared. A week of mornings. A week of Panam's truck. A week of bad food and worse coffee and clients and dust and motels and whatever happened when two women who already knew each other's bodies stopped arranging their time into neat little pieces. Reyes's thumb moved. > `Yes.` Then, because this was Panam: > `Still want me?` The answer did not come immediately. Typing. Gone. Typing. Gone again. Reyes smiled to herself. Finally: > `that's a dangerous question` Her smile became warmer. That answer had history already. Not much. Enough. > `Tuesday. 0600.` > `bring coffee` > `I heard you the first time.` > `actual boots` > `Goodbye, Panam.` > `birgitta` Reyes waited. > `yeah?` > `don't disappear before tuesday` For one second the Safehouse kitchen seemed quieter. It wasn't. Brenda dropped something in the workroom and swore loudly. Ace complained that Mai had stolen something Ace had almost certainly stolen first. Iris turned a page. Shammy's pencil moved. Normal morning. Reyes looked down at Panam's message. The callback was obvious. So was the difference. Last time Panam had asked her not to disappear in the morning. Now she was asking four days early. Reyes typed: > `I won't.` Panam reacted with nothing clever. Nothing defensive. Just: > `good` Reyes locked the agent. She took a drink of coffee. Cold. She made a face. Mai noticed. “Want another?” “Yes, please.” Ace looked at her. “So.” Reyes looked back. “No.” “You don't even know what I was going to ask.” “Yes, I do.” Ace smiled. “Good contract?” Reyes stared at her. A tiny, involuntary laugh escaped. “Not yet.” Ace's eyebrows rose. Reyes stood before she could ask anything else. “I need to talk to Lena.” That got Shammy's attention. Only for half a second. Reyes caught it. Shammy immediately looked back down. Reyes walked behind her chair. Stopped. Leaned down. “You.” Shammy looked up with perfect innocence. “Yes?” “Not one word.” “I haven't said anything.” “You've been saying things with your face for ten minutes.” Shammy smiled. Reyes narrowed her eyes. Then kissed the top of her head and kept walking. Behind her, Ace said: “What the fuck is going on?” Shammy answered: “Nothing.” “Bullshit.” Reyes left the kitchen smiling. A week. Maybe eight days. She needed Lena. Victor. A believable contract. Clothes that could survive Panam Palmer's definition of a road. And actual boots, apparently. Her agent vibrated again before she reached the hallway. She looked. Panam. > `and don't bring those fucking heels` Reyes stopped. She typed: > `Now I'm bringing them out of principle.` The answer came immediately. > `BIRGITTA` Reyes laughed aloud. Tuesday. Six in the morning. About a week. This was either an excellent idea or a spectacularly bad one. She was beginning to suspect those were not mutually exclusive. --- ## Chapter 2 — Boring Escort Job Reyes waited until after her second coffee. Not because the lie required preparation. It didn't. The best lies rarely did. They required exactly enough truth to make everything around them boring. She was at the Safehouse late enough in the morning that most of the household had migrated toward the kitchen at least once. That wasn't unusual. Reyes spent enough time here that nobody questioned her presence, and the kitchen had become the unofficial center of the place through a combination of coffee, food, habit, and Ace's apparently supernatural ability to appear whenever someone else had something worth eating. Brenda had finally emerged from her workroom carrying a mug and wearing the expression of someone who had been personally betrayed by a machine. Iris sat beside her. Shammy occupied her usual corner. Mai was at the counter. Ace was on Mai's lap. Of course she was. Reyes stopped on her way back from the coffee machine. “Is there a chair shortage?” Ace looked at her. “No.” “Good to know.” Mai had one arm around Ace's waist, keeping her comfortably settled against her. Her other hand rested on Ace's bare thigh. Ace looked entirely too pleased with the arrangement. Brenda followed Reyes's gaze. “Don't.” “I didn't say anything.” “You were thinking loudly.” Ace smiled. “She's jealous.” “Of Mai?” Mai raised an eyebrow. Reyes considered the question with exaggerated seriousness. “Occasionally.” Ace's smile vanished. Mai laughed. Shammy looked up from her coffee. “Dangerous answer.” “Accurate answer.” Ace pointed at Reyes. “You stay away from my girlfriend.” Mai's eyebrow went higher. Reyes looked at her. Mai looked back. Ace slowly turned her head. Mai kissed her temple. “You walked into that one.” “Betrayal.” “Tragic.” Reyes took her coffee to the table. She sat down. Mai's hand moved slightly along Ace's thigh. Ace shifted closer against her without looking down. No announcement. No interruption in the conversation. One body moving and the other already understanding. Reyes watched for half a second too long. For no useful reason whatsoever, she remembered Panam's hand at the back of her neck. Then Panam's mouth. Then Tuesday. Six in the fucking morning. She took a drink. “I've got work next week.” Nobody reacted particularly strongly. Good. Brenda took a drink from her own mug. “What kind?” “Escort.” Ace's head came up. Reyes immediately pointed at her. “Boring escort.” Ace closed her mouth. Then opened it again. “I didn't say anything.” “You were about to.” “I was going to ask a perfectly normal professional question.” “No, you weren't.” “No,” Mai agreed. Ace looked wounded. “Why does nobody believe in me?” “History,” Iris said. Brenda nodded. “Extensive documentation.” Shammy added, “Multiple witnesses.” Ace looked around the kitchen. “You all suck.” Mai's arm tightened around her waist. Ace settled back against her. Reyes took another drink. That. Again. Exactly that. Touch without thought. It wasn't making Reyes jealous. It was making her think. Which might have been worse. Iris looked at her. “How long?” “Little over a week.” That got slightly more attention. Brenda lowered her mug. “That's not a small escort.” “No.” “Who?” “Client wants discretion.” The answer was ordinary enough that Brenda accepted it immediately. Iris asked, “Local?” “Mostly outside the city.” “Convoy?” “Some road work.” Technically true enough to be almost offensive. Ace leaned back against Mai. “Good money?” “Yes.” “How good?” “Enough that I'm willing to spend a week being bored.” Ace considered this. “Okay.” And that was it. No suspicion. No questions about hidden motives. No strange intuition. No sudden realization that Reyes was planning to spend a week in Panam Palmer's truck while wearing another face. Just work. Exactly as intended. Shammy was the only problem. Not because she knew anything. She didn't. But Shammy had eyes. And apparently enjoyed using them. Reyes looked at her. Shammy was drinking coffee. Reyes continued looking. Shammy lowered the cup. “What?” “Nothing.” “That sounded suspicious.” “Did it?” “Yes.” Shammy smiled. Reyes smiled back. Neither said anything else. Ace looked between them. “There it is again.” Mai sighed. “Ace.” “No. They're doing the thing.” “What thing?” “The face thing.” Brenda looked at Shammy. Then Reyes. Then back. “I don't see a thing.” “Thank you,” Reyes said. Ace pointed at her. “Because you're part of it.” “I literally just got here.” “That proves nothing.” Iris leaned into Brenda's shoulder. “She's going to keep going.” “I know.” “Should we stop her?” Brenda considered it. “No. I want to see where she ends up.” Ace looked personally offended. Reyes hid her smile behind her cup. “I leave Tuesday morning.” “What time?” Mai asked. “Early.” “How early?” Reyes drank. “Six.” There was a brief silence. Then Ace said: “Fuck that.” “Thank you.” “That's not morning.” “Correct.” “That's an attack.” “Also correct.” Brenda shrugged. “I've been awake at six.” Everyone looked at her. Brenda frowned. “What?” Iris patted her arm. “Nothing, sweetheart.” “I have.” “Of course.” “For legitimate reasons.” Ace stared. “Name one.” Brenda opened her mouth. Paused. “Work.” Ace looked triumphant. “That doesn't count.” “Why?” “Because I said so.” Mai tightened her arm around Ace. “Your legal system is fascinating.” “Thank you.” “That wasn't praise.” “I accepted it anyway.” Reyes's agent vibrated in her pocket. Once. She ignored it. Then again. She didn't. She pulled it out beneath the edge of the table. Panam. > `0600 means 0600` Reyes stared. > `I know how numbers work.` The answer arrived before she could put the agent away. > `you were late to dinner` Reyes frowned. > `Three minutes.` > `late` > `You survived.` > `barely` Reyes smiled despite herself. Ace saw it. “What?” Reyes locked the agent. “Nothing.” “You're smiling.” “I do that.” “Not at work.” “I smile at work.” Kiro wasn't there to call bullshit. Unfortunate. Mai looked at Reyes for a moment. Not suspicious. Simply amused. “Your boring escort client?” Reyes took another drink. “Something like that.” Ace narrowed her eyes. Reyes met the stare calmly. Ace held it. Then shrugged. “Okay.” And returned her attention to Mai. That easy. Reyes almost felt insulted. Almost. Her agent vibrated again. She waited until Ace was no longer looking. > `coffee` Reyes typed: > `Yes, Panam.` Another message. > `actual boots` She closed her eyes. > `You have become strangely obsessed with my footwear.` A pause. > `because i enjoy having passengers with functioning ankles` Reyes smiled. > `How romantic.` > `not a date` Reyes looked at the message. Then around the kitchen. Nobody was paying attention now except Shammy. Of course Shammy was paying attention. Reyes typed anyway. > `You keep saying that like you're trying to convince yourself.` Typing. Stopped. Typing. Stopped again. Reyes waited. Finally: > `boots` She laughed quietly. Shammy heard. Of course she did. Reyes looked over. Shammy's expression was innocent. Too innocent. Reyes pointed two fingers at her own eyes. Then at Shammy. Shammy smiled into her coffee. Fine. One problem at a time. Reyes finished the cup and stood. “I should go.” Ace looked up. “Already?” “I have things to arrange.” “For the boring job.” “For the boring job.” Ace nodded solemnly. “Try not to die of boredom.” “I'll do my best.” Mai said, “You need anything?” “No. Just clothes and a convincing reason to regret agreeing to leave at six in the morning.” Ace pointed at her. “You already have the third one.” “True.” Brenda lifted her mug. “Good luck.” “Thanks.” Iris smiled. “See you before Tuesday?” “Probably.” Shammy said nothing. Reyes looked at her. Shammy looked back. Still nothing. Reyes walked behind her chair on the way out. Shammy spoke before Reyes could. “Have a nice boring job.” Reyes stopped. Shammy's expression remained perfectly innocent. Reyes leaned down, kissed the top of her head, and murmured: “Menace.” Shammy smiled into her coffee. Ace immediately said: “See? The face thing!” Reyes kept walking. Behind her, Shammy said: “What face thing?” “THAT ONE.” The upper Safehouse door closed behind Reyes. She took the stairs down through the building, passed through the lower level and headed out to the street. Night City met her exactly where she'd left it. Noise. Traffic. People. Nothing remotely interested in the fact that she had just successfully sold a week with Panam Palmer as professional boredom. Good. That was how it should be. Her agent was already in her hand by the time she started toward home. She opened Lena's contact. > `Need a wardrobe.` The reply came before Reyes had gone half a block. > `For?` > `Birgitta.` Three dots appeared. > `How long?` > `About a week.` A pause. > `Where?` Reyes considered how much explanation Lena actually needed. Probably very little. > `Road. Courier run. Badlands. Panam.` The typing indicator appeared instantly. Stopped. Appeared again. Reyes smiled. Finally: > `Oh.` She kept walking. > `What does "Oh" mean?` > `Nothing.` > `Lena.` > `When do you need it?` Coward. > `Monday.` > `Come tomorrow.` Then: > `Bring the boots you were planning to wear.` Reyes looked down at the ones she was currently wearing. Not Birgitta's. Still. The principle offended her. > `Why?` > `So I can throw them away.` Reyes sighed. Apparently Panam had allies. > `They're good boots.` > `For what?` Reyes considered several answers. Most were inappropriate. One was technically a business answer. She decided against all of them. > `I'll be there tomorrow.` > `Good.` A second message followed. > `And Reyes?` > `Yes?` > `If you're spending a week on the road with Panam, I am not responsible for what happens to anything you insist on bringing after I tell you not to.` Reyes slowed. There were several possible interpretations. Lena almost certainly meant clothes. Almost. > `Noted.` The answer arrived. > `I mean the clothes.` Reyes stopped on the sidewalk. She stared at the message. Then laughed. > `I didn't say anything.` > `You didn't have to.` Reyes locked the agent and continued home. --- Her apartment was quiet when she opened the door. Not Safehouse quiet. Her quiet. No voices from the kitchen. No Brenda swearing at machinery somewhere deeper in the building. No Ace arguing constitutional law she had invented thirty seconds earlier. No Shammy watching far too much and saying far too little. Just Reyes's own place. She closed the door behind her, dropped her keys where they belonged, and stood there for a second. Fine. Tomorrow: Lena. Monday: Victor and final prep. Tuesday: six in the fucking morning. She walked into her bedroom. Her travel bag was in the wardrobe. Her wardrobe. Her bedroom. Her apartment. She pulled the bag out and dropped it onto her own bed. A week. Reyes stood looking at it. She had done longer jobs. Harder jobs. More dangerous jobs. She had slept in worse places than anything Panam was likely to find. She had lived out of smaller bags. None of that was the part making her pause. She sat on the edge of the bed. For one evening with Panam, Birgitta had clothes. For a booking, Birgitta had clothes. For dinner, she had clothes. For Jig-Jig, she certainly had clothes. A week was different. Seven mornings. Seven evenings. Dirty laundry. Work clothes. Sleeping clothes. Something warm. Something practical. Something she could sit in for six hours without wanting to murder Lena. Something she could get grease on. Something Panam could— Reyes stopped. Looked at the empty bag. “Focus.” The bag offered no assistance. She smiled anyway. This wasn't a date. Panam had been very clear about that. It was work. Road. Cargo. Clients. Bad coffee. Bad food. Bad motels. Probably dust in places dust had no legitimate reason to reach. And at the end of each day, unless the road decided otherwise, one room. Probably one bed. Panam beside her. Not for a few hours. Not until morning and then goodbye. Again the next night. And the next. Reyes leaned backward until she was lying across her bed and stared at the ceiling. “Boring escort job,” she murmured. That had been an excellent choice. Technically, she would be escorting someone. She laughed into the empty apartment. Her agent vibrated. She lifted it above her face. Panam. > `seriously` > > `actual boots` Reyes typed: > `Lena has already threatened mine.` The response was immediate. > `i like lena` Reyes smiled. > `Traitor.` > `0600` > `I hate you.` This time Panam's answer took only a second. > `no you don't` Reyes looked at it. Her smile softened. No. She really didn't. > `No.` She lowered the agent onto her chest. Four days. Then about a week. A week of Panam's truck. A week of work. A week of motel rooms. A week of waking beside the same woman. A week in which a kiss didn't have to belong to the beginning or end of a date. A week in which touching Panam wouldn't be something squeezed between two other pieces of life. A week in which, when they ended up in bed together, there would be another morning afterward. And another night after that. Reyes turned her head toward the open travel bag. For the first time since Victor had told her the seven-day voice was possible, she understood what she actually wanted to use it for. Not another booking. Not a longer shift. Not even Birgitta. Not exactly. Time. She wanted time with Panam. Everything else was logistics. --- ## Chapter 3 — Road Birgitta Lena looked at the boots for six seconds. Reyes counted. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Then Lena looked at Reyes. “No.” Reyes folded her arms. “They're boots.” “No.” “They have soles.” “An inspiring achievement.” “They're comfortable.” “For walking from a car to a restaurant.” “I've walked farther than that.” “I believe you.” Reyes narrowed her eyes. Lena crouched, pressed one thumb against the side of the boot, then looked up again. “You said Badlands.” “Yes.” “Courier run.” “Yes.” “About a week.” “Yes.” “With Panam.” Reyes hesitated. Lena smiled. That smile had been waiting since the messages yesterday. “Yes,” Reyes said carefully. “With Panam.” “Mm.” “Don't.” “I didn't say anything.” “You said ‘mm.’” “Did I?” “You know you did.” Lena stood. The boots remained on the floor between them like evidence in a trial they had already lost. Reyes had come to Lena as herself. There was no reason to arrive wearing Birgitta's face for a wardrobe fitting, especially when Lena already knew both the woman and the cover better than almost anyone involved in constructing it. Hair and eyes could wait. Face mesh could wait. Victor's voice work could definitely wait. Today was fabric, fit, layers, weather, road, and apparently the systematic destruction of Reyes's opinions about footwear. Lena nudged one of the boots with her toe. “These stay home.” Reyes sighed. “Fine.” “That was easier than expected.” “I know when I've lost.” “No, you don't.” “Occasionally.” Lena turned away. “Take off your jacket.” Reyes did. “Shirt too.” Reyes looked at her. Lena looked back. “I'm fitting clothes, Reyes.” “I know.” “Then why are you looking at me like that?” “I was deciding whether to make the obvious joke.” “And?” “I decided to be mature.” Lena stared at her. Reyes smiled. “For now.” “Wonderful.” The fitting space was already half occupied by clothes. Not Birgitta's usual clothes. Reyes recognized that immediately. No luxury silhouettes. No carefully controlled suggestion that looked almost conservative until Birgitta moved. No Jig-Jig polish. No clothes designed around the simple commercial fact that people were supposed to look at her and make bad financial decisions. This was different. Dark trousers. Shirts. Layers. A jacket. Two pairs of boots. Gloves. A scarf. Another small pile farther back that Reyes couldn't identify yet. She stepped closer. “You've already started.” “You told me road, Badlands, courier work and Panam.” “You keep adding Panam like it's a clothing specification.” “For this job, it is.” Reyes looked at her. Lena lifted one pair of trousers from the pile. “Panam doesn't stay clean.” “That sounds personal.” “Roads don't stay clean around Panam.” “Less interesting.” “Put these on.” Reyes took them. They were dark, almost black, heavier than anything Birgitta normally wore but not bulky. Reinforced where reinforcement actually mattered. Enough stretch to move properly. She held them up. Then looked at Lena. “That seems a little fitted.” “It fits.” “That wasn't what I meant.” “I know.” “Lena.” “You said Panam.” Reyes stared at her. Lena's expression remained perfectly professional. “…fuck you.” “There she is.” Reyes took the trousers and went behind the changing partition. “You know this is supposed to be practical.” “It is practical.” “These are very practical around the ass.” “Your ass doesn't stop existing because you're doing courier work.” Reyes pulled them on. “That sounds like something you put on a business card.” “I'd need a larger card.” Reyes laughed. The trousers settled into place. She stopped laughing. “Oh.” “Problem?” “No.” “Come out.” Reyes stepped from behind the partition. Lena looked at the trousers. Not Reyes. The trousers. At least professionally enough to maintain plausible deniability. She circled once. “Move.” Reyes bent. Squatted. Twisted. Raised one knee. Then performed a deeper crouch and came back up. Nothing pulled incorrectly. Nothing restricted her. The reinforcement moved with her instead of fighting her. Reyes looked down. “Okay.” Lena smiled. “Mm.” “Stop doing that.” “Doing what?” “That.” “Being right?” Reyes ignored her. She checked the pockets. Actual pockets. Deep ones. Secure closures. One positioned where she could reach it sitting down. She looked at Lena. “Now you're just showing off.” “Yes.” Reyes slid both hands into the front pockets. “Birgitta has never had pockets this useful.” “Birgitta has rarely needed to carry anything more dangerous than a hotel key.” “She's carried weapons.” “Discreetly.” “Fair.” Lena handed her a shirt. “Try this.” The material was lighter than the trousers, breathable, durable, close enough to the body not to catch on anything but loose enough for heat and movement. Reyes pulled it on. Lena adjusted one shoulder. Then the collar. Then stepped back. Reyes looked in the mirror. For a moment she said nothing. It was strange. Not wrong. Just strange. Birgitta had always been deliberate. Even when she looked effortless, effort existed underneath. Luxury joytoy. Premium. Bright. Social. A woman designed to make attention feel rewarding. This was still fitted. Still unmistakably feminine. Still something Birgitta could wear without becoming someone else. But the clothes weren't asking to be looked at. They expected to be used. Reyes turned sideways. “She's different.” Lena met her eyes through the mirror. “No.” Reyes looked at her. “The clothes are.” A pause. Then Lena stepped closer and smoothed the shirt where it had caught slightly at Reyes's waist. “She's still you.” Reyes looked back at the mirror. That landed. She didn't answer immediately. Lena didn't push. Eventually Reyes touched the shirt near the hem. “I like it.” “I know.” “You could let me say things before deciding you know them.” “I could.” “You won't.” “No.” Reyes smiled. “Menace.” “Occupational hazard.” The jacket came next. Useful rather than heavy. Enough protection for wind and dust. Reinforced in the right places. Inside pockets. Real ones. Reyes found the first. Then another. Then a third. She looked at Lena. “How many things do you expect me to steal?” “Depends where Panam takes you.” “I don't steal.” Lena stared at her. Reyes reconsidered. “Professionally.” “That sentence did not help.” The first pair of boots were next. Reyes sat and pulled them on. They reached above the ankle without being heavy, properly structured, soles built for dirt, gravel, concrete, wet ground and the sort of surfaces that considered levelness a personal weakness. She stood. Walked. Turned. Stopped. “These are actually comfortable.” Lena folded her arms. “Imagine that.” “Don't become unbearable.” “Too late.” Reyes looked down. They worked with the trousers. More importantly, they felt like she could wear them for twelve hours and still possess feet afterward. She walked another circle. “Panam will approve.” Lena's expression changed instantly. Very slightly. Reyes saw it. “No.” “I didn't say anything.” “You were about to.” “I was thinking.” “Don't.” Lena smiled. “You care whether she likes them.” “I care whether she stops sending me messages about actual boots.” “That wasn't what I meant.” Reyes pointed at her. “I know.” Lena laughed. “Fine.” She picked up the second pair. “These are for colder or uglier conditions. Take both.” “Two pairs of boots?” “For a week? Yes.” “How much room do you think I have?” “In Panam's truck?” Reyes paused. “Yes.” “Enough.” “You sound disturbingly confident.” “I know Panam.” True. There was no reason for either woman to pretend otherwise. Lena knew Panam. Panam knew Lena. Night City was not composed of sealed social compartments that ceased existing whenever someone changed her hair. Reyes took the second pair. “Fine.” Next came layers. A warmer shirt. A thermal base. Another pair of trousers. A second practical shirt. Then a third. A lighter jacket layer. Gloves. Scarf. Something for rain. Reyes watched the pile grow. “I'm going for a week, not emigrating.” “You're going with Panam.” “There it is again.” “Because apparently I have to account for road, weather and Panam Palmer simultaneously.” “What does Panam add to weather?” “Unexpected mileage.” Reyes considered that. “Fair.” “And dirt.” “Also fair.” “And delays.” “She's going to love you.” “She already likes me.” “Traitor.” Lena smiled. The final pile was smaller. Reyes pointed at it. “What is that?” “One decent outfit.” “For what?” “Dinner.” “This is courier work.” “And?” “We're not going anywhere fancy.” “You don't know that.” “I know Panam.” “So do I.” Reyes sighed. Lena handed her the outfit. It was still road-compatible. Still practical. But cleaner in line. Softer. Something Birgitta could wear if they ended up somewhere nicer than a fuel stop without looking as if she'd changed into another person's wardrobe. Reyes held it against herself. “You planned a date outfit.” “No.” “You absolutely planned a date outfit.” “I planned for the possibility that at some point during seven days you may want to look slightly less like you've been living in a truck.” “With Panam.” Lena's smile returned. Reyes pointed at her. “Don't.” “I said nothing.” “You don't need words. Apparently it's contagious.” “What is?” “Shammy.” Lena laughed. Reyes put the outfit down. Then noticed one thing missing. “Sleeping clothes?” Lena looked at her. Reyes waited. Lena continued looking at her. “Oh, fuck you.” “I didn't say anything.” “You didn't have to.” Lena finally turned toward another shelf. “I packed them.” “Thank you.” “Although statistically—” “Lena.” “—they may experience limited use.” “Lena.” “What?” Reyes covered her face with one hand. “This is why I don't tell people things.” “You told me you're spending a week with Panam.” “Because you needed to know where I was going.” “You could have said Badlands.” “You would have asked.” “Yes.” “And then?” “You would have told me.” Reyes lowered her hand. “That confidence is offensive.” “Is it inaccurate?” Reyes considered lying. Decided it wasn't worth the effort. “No.” Lena nodded. “Good.” Reyes looked over the clothes again. Something occurred to her. “Nothing too delicate.” “Obviously.” “I mean it.” “Reyes.” “Grease. Dust. Motel laundry. Whatever Panam thinks qualifies as a road.” “I understood the assignment.” “And nothing that requires special care.” “I understood.” “No—” Lena put both hands on Reyes's shoulders. “Reyes.” She stopped. Lena looked directly at her. “I know.” Reyes exhaled. “Right.” “You're not dressing for Birgitta's work.” “No.” “You're dressing Birgitta for Panam's work.” Reyes went still for half a second. There it was. Not _for Panam._ For Panam's work. Important difference. Lena released her shoulders. “She needs to be able to climb in and out of that truck fifty times. Sit for hours. Move cargo if she needs to. Walk dirt. Stand in wind. Get wet. Get filthy. Sleep in a motel. Wake up and do it again.” Reyes nodded. “And,” Lena continued, “she needs to still look like Birgitta while doing it.” “Yes.” “That part is easy.” Reyes raised an eyebrow. “Is it?” Lena smiled. “The clothes are controlled.” She tugged lightly at the hem of Reyes's fitted shirt. “Birgitta is not.” Reyes laughed. “That should be on the business card.” “Definitely need a larger card.” They worked for another hour. Adjustments. Measurements. A slightly different cut on one shirt. One pair of trousers rejected because a seam sat exactly where eight hours in a truck would make Reyes homicidal. Lena replaced it without argument. A jacket sleeve shortened slightly. Gloves changed. The scarf stayed. By the end, the clothes no longer looked like a collection. They looked like a week. Reyes stood in front of the mirror wearing the core version. Dark reinforced trousers. Work boots. Breathable shirt. Jacket open. No Birgitta face. No copper-grey hair. No pale brown eyes. No bright voice. Just Reyes inside the clothes that would belong to Birgitta in three days. Lena stood behind her. “Hair?” “Same.” “Smoked copper-grey.” “Yes.” “Eyes?” “Very light brown.” “Yes.” “No reason to change either.” “No.” “Good.” Lena looked at the mirror. “Face mesh is still fine?” “Yes.” “Victor?” “Monday.” “Voice only?” “Voice only.” “Seven days.” “That's the idea.” Lena nodded. Everything cleanly separated. Face mesh already existed. Hair and eyes were Lena's side. Voice was Victor's. No one rebuilding anything that didn't need rebuilding. Reyes looked at herself again. “Panam hasn't seen this version.” “No.” “She knows Birgitta.” “Yes.” “But not Road Birgitta.” Lena smiled. “No.” Reyes turned slightly, checking the trousers again. Lena watched her. “What?” “Nothing.” “Lena.” “I was thinking about Panam's face.” Reyes tried not to smile. Failed. “That obvious?” “The trousers?” “The whole thing.” Lena looked at her from boots to jacket. Then back to her face. “She's going to stare.” Reyes's smile grew. “Good.” Lena laughed. “There she is.” Reyes looked back into the mirror. She imagined smoked copper-grey hair around the face that wasn't currently there. The lighter eyes. The brighter voice. Panam at six in the morning, probably already irritated at something mechanical. Two coffees. Truck waiting. Then Panam looking up. Reyes felt a small, warm twist low in her stomach. Lena saw something. Of course she did. She said nothing. For once. Reyes glanced at her. “Thank you.” “You're welcome.” “I mean it.” “I know.” Reyes started changing back into her own clothes. Behind the partition, she heard Lena sorting the finished pieces into the travel bag. Reyes pulled on her shirt. “Lena?” “Yes?” “Do not throw away my other boots.” Silence. Reyes stopped. “Lena.” “They're still here.” “That wasn't the question.” “They're safe.” “For now?” “I make no promises.” Reyes came around the partition. Lena handed her the old boots. Reyes took them protectively. “You're terrible.” “You'll thank me Tuesday.” “Maybe.” “When Panam sees you?” Reyes looked at her. Lena smiled. Reyes picked up the travel bag. “Fuck you.” “Have fun.” “It's work.” “Of course.” “Courier work.” “Absolutely.” “Not a date.” Lena's smile became unbearable. Reyes headed for the door. “Keep smiling and I'm wearing the heels.” Lena looked toward the condemned boots. “Panam will throw them out of the truck.” Reyes stopped. Turned. “You've known her too long.” “Long enough to know six seconds was generous.” Reyes stared at her. Then laughed. “Bitch.” “Tuesday. Actual boots.” “Oh, fuck off.” She left still laughing. The travel bag felt heavier than the one she'd brought in. Not because of the clothes. Not really. Road Birgitta now existed. Not a new identity. Not a new cover. Just Birgitta prepared for a different piece of life. A week in Panam's world. And if Lena was right about Panam staring— Reyes smiled all the way home. Good. --- ## Chapter 4 — Seven Days Victor looked at Reyes for a long moment. Then he looked at the clock. Then back at Reyes. “You know it's Monday.” “Yes.” “And you're here voluntarily.” “Yes.” “Should I be worried?” Reyes smiled. “Probably.” Victor sighed. “That answer never makes me feel better.” Reyes stepped fully into the clinic and let the door close behind her. Visually, Reyes had stopped being Reyes before she came anywhere near Victor's. The face looking back at him belonged to Birgitta. The second-generation face mesh sat naturally against her skin, warm and expressive, every small movement transferring through it without the rigid perfection cheaper systems sometimes produced. Smoked copper-grey hair framed her face. Very light brown eyes watched Victor with obvious amusement. Lena's road wardrobe completed the effect. Dark reinforced trousers. Actual boots. Breathable shirt. Useful jacket. Nothing flashy. Nothing fragile. Nothing that looked designed for Jig-Jig. Victor looked her over. His eyebrows rose. “That's new.” “The clothes.” “I noticed.” “Lena.” “That explains it.” Reyes put one hand on her hip. “What does that mean?” “It means I wasn't going to insult you by asking if you picked practical boots yourself.” “Everybody is suddenly very interested in my boots.” Victor glanced down at them. “They're good boots.” Reyes stared at him. “Traitor.” Victor smiled. “Sit.” She climbed into the chair. The moment she spoke again, the mismatch became obvious. Birgitta's face. Birgitta's hair. Birgitta's eyes. Road Birgitta from neck to boots. Reyes's voice. Victor noticed her noticing it. “Yeah.” “Weird.” “You're used to hearing the other one with that face.” “So is everyone else.” “That's generally the point.” Reyes settled back. Victor pulled a diagnostic display closer. “You've been running the mesh long?” “Not today.” “Any irritation?” “No.” “Movement?” “Fine.” “Eyes?” “Fine.” “Hair?” “Lena.” Victor looked at her. Reyes smiled. “Fine.” “Good.” He ran the standard checks anyway. Reyes let him. This wasn't the place to rush. The face mesh wasn't the job today, but Victor didn't believe in ignoring one piece of biosculpt because he was working on another. Eventually he stepped back. “Everything else is stable.” “Good.” “So.” He looked at the voice profile. “Seven days.” “That's what you promised.” “I said I could make it stable for seven days.” “That sounds suspiciously like the same thing.” “It isn't.” “Victor.” “Reyes.” She smiled. He didn't. Not quite. “You said maybe a little over.” “Panam said maybe a little over.” Victor's eyes moved from the display to her face. “Panam.” Reyes sighed. “Yes.” Victor looked at the clothes again. Then the boots. Then her face. “Courier run?” “Yes.” “With Panam.” “Yes.” “For a week.” “Yes.” Victor nodded slowly. Reyes narrowed her eyes. “What?” “Nothing.” “That's the second time someone has said nothing like that.” “Lena?” “Lena.” Victor returned to the display. “Smart woman.” “Don't encourage her.” “I like Lena.” “Apparently everyone does.” He adjusted the settings. “Seven days means seven days at full stability. After that, it doesn't collapse.” “I know.” “It relaxes.” “I know.” “Gradually.” “Yes.” “Pitch first, usually. Then some of the brighter resonance. Under normal use you might not even notice the first few hours.” “Victor.” He stopped. “I listened the first time.” “I know.” “You're doing the doctor thing.” “I am a doctor.” “You're doing the annoying doctor thing.” “Also true.” Reyes smiled. Victor didn't. Not yet. “If you're still out there significantly past the stable window, call me.” “I will.” “If it starts relaxing early, call me.” “I will.” “If anything feels wrong—” “I call you.” “Yes.” “Got it.” Victor finally nodded. “Good.” He began preparing the procedure. Reyes watched him for a moment. “How stable under strain?” Victor didn't look up. “Same as I told you before.” “Humor me.” He glanced at her. “Fatigue is fine.” “Raised voice?” “Fine.” “Laughing?” “Fine.” “Cold?” “Fine.” “Heat?” “Within reason.” “Excitement?” Victor stopped. Slowly, he looked at her. Reyes maintained a perfectly neutral expression. Victor looked at her for another second. Then returned to his equipment. “Fine.” Reyes smiled. “Good.” “I'm not asking.” “I didn't say anything.” “You didn't need to.” “That's apparently contagious too.” Victor pointed toward the chair. “Head back.” Reyes obeyed. The procedure wasn't dramatic. That was one of the things she liked about Victor. No performance. No pretending routine work was mystical just because it involved altering something human beings had once considered fixed. He explained what he was doing when explanation mattered and stayed quiet when it didn't. Reyes felt the first strange pressure low in her throat. Not pain. Never quite pain. A shifting awareness of structures she normally had no reason to notice. Victor watched the readings. “Breathe normally.” She did. “Again.” She inhaled. Exhaled. The pressure changed. Victor adjusted something. “Say your name.” “Reyes.” Still Reyes. Mostly. A slight instability around the edges. Victor continued. Again. “Reyes.” Different. Higher. Not enough. Another adjustment. “Again.” “Reyes.” Reyes heard Birgitta beginning to emerge. It was always strange when the voice arrived before the personality naturally followed it. The physical architecture changed first. Pitch. Resonance. Placement. The brighter quality that made Birgitta sound as though every conversation might become entertaining if given half a chance. Victor listened. “Again.” “Reyes.” Closer. He made another small correction. “Count.” “One. Two. Three. Four. Five.” Victor watched the waveform. “Laugh.” Reyes looked at him. “Seriously?” “Yes.” “You want me to laugh on command.” “Yes.” “That's not how laughing works.” “Think about Ace trying to explain why something technically wasn't theft.” Reyes laughed. Victor pointed at the display. “There.” “Asshole.” “Again.” She was still smiling. “What?” “Say that again.” “Asshole.” Birgitta said it. Reyes heard it immediately. Higher. Brighter. Livelier. Not artificial. Not performed. Her voice. Just configured differently. Victor made one final adjustment. “Again.” “Asshole.” Victor nodded. “Perfect.” Reyes laughed. This time the sound belonged completely to the face she was wearing. Victor checked the readings. “Talk.” “About what?” “Anything.” “You're charging me money and apparently outsourced your test protocol to irritating me.” “Good.” “I haven't finished.” “Keep going.” “You insulted my boots, interrogated my schedule, refused to mind your own business about Panam—” “I didn't ask anything about Panam.” “You said her name in a tone.” Victor smiled. “Keep going.” “—and now you're making me talk to myself while you stare at a graph.” “Excellent.” “I hate doctors.” “You keep coming back.” “You're annoyingly competent.” “There.” Victor tapped the display. Reyes stopped. “What?” “Stable.” He showed her. The pattern held. No drift. No compensation. No artificial flattening when she changed volume or cadence. Victor leaned back. “Raise your voice.” “HOW MUCH LOUDER DO YOU WANT?” The brighter voice filled the clinic. Victor watched the readings. “Good.” Reyes lowered it. “Still there?” “Still there.” “Laughing?” “We already tested it.” “Test it again.” “How?” Reyes smiled. Victor saw the problem immediately. “No.” “Come on.” “No.” “You could tell me another joke.” “I don't tell jokes.” “That was one.” Victor closed his eyes. Reyes laughed. The waveform remained stable. “Happy?” “Very.” “I regret improving this.” “No, you don't.” “No.” He started putting equipment away. Reyes sat up carefully. Her throat felt strange. Not sore. Aware. She swallowed. Victor noticed. “Normal.” “I know.” “Water.” He handed her a bottle. She drank. The first swallow felt unfamiliar. The second less so. By the third, her body had already begun accepting the new normal. Victor watched her. “Say something.” Reyes capped the bottle. “Something.” He sighed. “Useful.” “You should specify that before asking.” “Birgitta.” The name landed differently in the new voice. Reyes smiled. “Yes?” Victor studied her for a second. Then nodded. “There she is.” Reyes's smile widened. That was the other half. The voice didn't create Birgitta. Neither did the face. Neither did the hair, eyes, clothes, or the subtle changes in how Reyes carried herself once all the pieces were in place. Birgitta wasn't another person. She was a direction. A permission. A set of doors Reyes normally left closed because life rarely rewarded opening all of them at once. Brighter. Warmer. Faster to smile. More willing to hold eye contact one second too long. More willing to say the thing Reyes might otherwise only think. The clothes were controlled. Birgitta was not. Reyes swung her legs down from the chair. Victor looked at her. “Walk around.” “Voice procedure.” “I know.” “Why am I walking?” “Because you've been sitting still.” “That is disturbingly sensible.” “I have moments.” She walked across the clinic. The new boots barely made a sound. Victor watched her posture. “Comfortable?” “Yes.” “Any dizziness?” “No.” “Pressure?” “No.” “Throat?” “Odd. Fine.” “Good.” Reyes stopped in front of a reflective panel. Birgitta looked back. Not Jig-Jig Birgitta. Not dinner Birgitta. Not the woman who had once been built around the elegant arithmetic of twenty-five thousand and one. Road Birgitta. Smoked copper-grey hair. Pale brown eyes. Scandinavian architecture. Dark practical clothes. Work boots. And now the voice. “Hello,” she said to the reflection. Bright. Easy. Natural. She smiled. “That's better.” Victor came to stand behind her. “Seven days.” She met his eyes through the reflection. “Seven days.” “After that—” “Gradual relaxation.” “If significantly over—” “Call Victor.” “If anything feels wrong—” “Call Victor.” “If Panam gets you into trouble—” Reyes turned. Victor's expression remained completely straight. She stared at him. “You said you weren't asking.” “I didn't ask.” “You're learning from Lena.” “Terrifying thought.” Reyes picked up her bag. Victor said, “You have somewhere to be?” “Home.” “Good.” “Why?” “Because I don't want you doing anything stupid for a few hours.” Reyes put a hand over her chest. “Victor.” “Nothing strenuous.” “You're ruining this.” “Hydrate.” “Romantic.” “Eat.” “Now you're Panam.” Victor pointed at the door. “Out.” Reyes laughed. She headed toward it. “Reyes.” She stopped. Turned. Victor was looking at her seriously now. Not worried. Just Victor. “Have fun.” For a moment she didn't answer. Then Birgitta smiled. “I intend to.” --- Her apartment felt different when Birgitta walked into it. That was absurd. Nothing had changed. Same door. Same furniture. Same quiet. Same travel bag waiting where she'd left it. But yesterday Reyes had stood here looking at a week. Today Birgitta was going. She closed the door and put her things down. Then she caught herself humming. She stopped. Listened to the silence. “Huh.” The voice made even that sound brighter. Her agent vibrated. Panam. Of course. > `you alive` Birgitta smiled. Instead of typing, she held the agent closer and recorded a short voice message. “Maybe.” She sent it. Nothing happened for several seconds. Then the typing indicator appeared. Stopped. Appeared. Stopped again. Birgitta sat down on the arm of the couch. Still nothing. She smiled. Finally: > `fuck` Birgitta laughed. > `Problem?` Typing. > `no` Stopped. Then: > `do that again` Her eyebrows rose. Oh. She recorded another. “Do what again?” Sent. The typing indicator appeared immediately. > `you know exactly what you're doing` Birgitta leaned back. “Yes,” she said aloud. Then sent: > `I usually do.` Panam took longer with that one. > `0600` Birgitta stared. > `Coward.` > `coffee` > `Panam.` > `actual boots` Birgitta looked down at Lena's boots. She took a picture. Only the boots and lower legs. Nothing else. Sent. Panam's response took less than five seconds. > `holy shit` Birgitta blinked. Then: > `They're boots.` > `not the boots` She looked down at the fitted reinforced trousers. A slow smile appeared. > `Eyes up, Palmer.` Typing. Stopped. Typing. > `fuck you` Birgitta's smile widened. > `Later.` Nothing. Ten seconds. Twenty. Then: > `0600` Birgitta laughed hard enough that Victor's voice work received another completely unnecessary field test. Stable. Very stable. She stood and walked toward the bedroom. The travel bag was open on the bed. Lena's clothes were ready. The practical layers. The second boots. Gloves. Scarf. One better road outfit. Everything required to let Birgitta exist for a week somewhere she had never existed before. She began packing. Tomorrow morning she would leave this apartment as Birgitta. Meet Panam somewhere neutral. Climb into the truck. And for approximately seven days, nobody would be waiting for Birgitta to turn back into Reyes before she could go to sleep. That thought stopped her for a moment. She held one folded shirt in both hands. A whole week. Not borrowed hours. Not a booking window. Not a date with an ending built into the evening. Work. Road. Motel rooms. Panam. Touching her because she wanted to. Sleeping beside her because neither of them had anywhere else to be. Waking up. Doing it again. Birgitta put the shirt into the bag. Her agent vibrated once more. Panam. > `don't be late` Birgitta typed: > `Three minutes isn't late.` > `0600` > `You are becoming repetitive.` > `works` Birgitta smiled. > `Good night, Panam.` The reply took only a moment. > `night birgitta` She looked at it. Then added: > `One more thing.` > `what` Birgitta thought about it. Smiled. Recorded a voice message instead. “Sleep well.” She sent it. The typing indicator appeared. Stopped. Appeared again. Stopped. Nothing arrived for almost a minute. Then: > `menace` Birgitta laughed softly. She finished packing. Tomorrow. Six in the fucking morning. Two coffees. Actual boots. And Panam. Seven days suddenly felt very close. --- ## Chapter 5 — Pickup At 05:54, Birgitta stepped out onto the street carrying two coffees. She hated everything. Not Panam. Not yet. The hour. Definitely the hour. Night City had not decided whether it was still night or already morning. The sky had begun to lighten without making any meaningful contribution to visibility, and the streets had that temporary half-awake quality that never lasted long. Birgitta adjusted the strap of her travel bag. Actual boots. Dark reinforced trousers. Breathable shirt. Jacket. Smoked copper-grey hair. Very light brown eyes. Bright voice. Two coffees. She checked the time again. 05:55. This was obscene. Her agent vibrated. > `where are you` Birgitta stared at it. > `Five minutes early.` > `that's not a location` She looked up. The neutral pickup point was less than a block away. > `Close enough to hear you being unreasonable.` Typing. > `coffee?` Birgitta smiled despite herself. > `I changed my mind.` Three dots appeared instantly. > `birgitta` She laughed and kept walking. The truck came into view at the far end of the block. Panam was outside it. Of course she was. The driver's door stood open. One side compartment was open too. Panam had apparently already completed half a morning before civilized people were supposed to possess consciousness. She was checking something near the rear wheel. Birgitta slowed. Not because she needed to. Because she wanted one second before Panam looked up. She had seen Panam dressed for the road before. Many times. That wasn't new. Panam belonged beside a truck in a way she never quite belonged anywhere else. Jeans, boots, practical layers, hair pulled back enough to stay out of the way. Everything about her already moving toward the next hundred kilometers. Birgitta liked Panam at dinner. She liked Panam in bed. She liked Panam waking beside her. She liked Panam irritated at coffee machines. This— Panam crouched beside a wheel before sunrise, one hand resting against the tire while she checked something with the other. This was another version. Birgitta smiled. Then Panam looked up. Stopped. Completely. Birgitta kept walking. Panam remained crouched for another second. Then stood. Slowly. Her eyes went to Birgitta's face first. Then the hair. Jacket. Shirt. Trousers. Boots. Back up. Birgitta reached the truck. “Good morning.” Panam said nothing. Birgitta waited. Panam looked down again. Not at the boots. Birgitta's smile grew. “Eyes up, Palmer.” Panam's gaze snapped back to her face. “I was looking at the trousers.” “Yes.” “They're new.” “Yes.” “Lena?” “Obviously.” Panam looked again. Birgitta let her. For approximately two seconds. Then she held out one coffee. Panam's attention shifted instantly. “Oh, thank fuck.” Birgitta laughed. Panam took the cup. Their fingers touched. Then Panam caught Birgitta's wrist before she could pull away. Easy. Familiar. No hesitation. She tugged. Birgitta stepped closer because she already knew what that movement meant. Panam's free hand settled at her waist. Birgitta's went to the back of Panam's neck. The kiss was warm, immediate, and entirely incompatible with the hour. Birgitta smiled into it. Panam kissed her again. Longer. The coffee between them was the only reason either bothered maintaining spatial discipline. When Panam finally pulled back, she stayed close enough that their foreheads almost touched. “Hi.” Birgitta smiled. “Hi.” Panam's thumb moved once against her waist. Birgitta felt it through the shirt. There. That was better. No waiting for the evening. No treating touch like something they had to earn again because a new story had started. Just Panam. Just Birgitta. Already knowing. Panam looked down at her boots. “Actual boots.” Birgitta sighed. “You kiss me like that and then talk about my boots.” “They're good boots.” “Lena said the same thing.” “I like Lena.” “Traitors. All of you.” Panam grinned. Then she looked at the coffee. Took a drink. Stopped. Looked at Birgitta. “You remembered.” Birgitta stared at her. “Of course I remembered.” “Exactly.” “Yes.” Panam took another drink. Birgitta watched her. “You're being strange about coffee.” “You remembered exactly.” “You told me exactly.” “Once.” Birgitta tilted her head. “Because it was yours.” Panam went quiet. Not uncomfortable. Just hit. Birgitta knew that expression now. She stepped closer again and kissed the corner of Panam's mouth. “Drink your coffee.” Panam looked at her. “Yes, boss.” “Much better.” Panam's hand remained at Birgitta's waist for another moment before she finally released her. Work returned. Not because the relationship disappeared. Because work existed too. Panam closed the side compartment. “Bag.” Birgitta handed it over. Panam took it and opened the passenger door. Then Birgitta saw inside. She stopped. The passenger seat was clear. Not mostly clear. Clear. No route papers. No tools. No jacket. No half-empty bottle. No mysterious piece of hardware that had probably been living there since before either woman was born. The footwell was clear too. There was space behind the seat. Actual space. Birgitta looked at Panam. Panam avoided her eyes. “You cleaned.” “I moved things.” “You cleaned.” “I needed the space.” “For me.” “For your bag.” Birgitta looked at the bag in Panam's hand. Then at the empty passenger seat. Then back at Panam. “My bag has a seat?” “Shut up.” Birgitta smiled. Panam put the bag behind the seat. Carefully. Not thrown. Placed. Birgitta leaned against the open door. “You made room for me.” Panam straightened. “I made room for your stuff.” “You keep saying things that are technically different and emotionally identical.” “Get in the truck.” Birgitta kissed her. Quick. Right on the mouth. Then climbed in. Panam stood outside the door for half a second. “Menace.” Birgitta adjusted the seat. “You invited me.” “You asked.” “True.” Panam closed the door. Birgitta watched her walk around the front of the truck. Yes. Lena had been right about one thing. The trousers were extremely practical. Panam opened the driver's door. Birgitta looked straight ahead. Panam climbed in. “Don't.” “I didn't say anything.” “You were looking.” “At the windshield.” “Bullshit.” Birgitta smiled. Panam put her coffee into the holder and settled behind the wheel. She did not start the truck. Instead she looked at Birgitta. Really looked. The teasing softened. “Okay.” Birgitta waited. Panam rested one hand on the wheel. “This is a real workweek.” “I know.” “I'm serious.” “So am I.” “Some days are going to be long.” “I know.” “Food happens when it happens.” “Fine.” “Motels can be shit.” “I have survived architecture before.” “Birgitta.” “Panam.” Panam fought a smile. “Clients change times.” “Clients are clients.” “Roads change.” “I've noticed roads doing that.” “Sometimes we sleep late.” Birgitta raised an eyebrow. Panam immediately corrected herself. “Arrive late.” “Disappointing.” “Fuck you.” Birgitta smiled. “Later.” Panam stared at her. There. That tiny freeze. Not surprise at the suggestion. They were far beyond that. Recognition. Memory. Expectation. Panam looked forward. “I'm trying to explain something.” “I know.” Birgitta let the teasing ease. Panam continued. “Sometimes there's nothing interesting for hours.” “Good.” Panam looked back. “Good?” “Yes.” “You might be bored.” “Panam.” “What?” Birgitta turned slightly in the seat. “I didn't ask to come because I thought courier work was secretly exciting.” Panam went quiet. “I know.” “Do you?” “Yes.” Birgitta waited. Panam looked at the wheel. Then at her coffee. Then finally at Birgitta. “I just want you to know what you're saying yes to.” That deserved a real answer. Birgitta reached across the center space and rested her hand on Panam's thigh. Panam looked down at it. Then back at her. “I know what I'm saying yes to.” Panam covered Birgitta's hand with hers. Warm. Callused. Familiar. Birgitta continued. “Road. Work. Bad coffee.” Panam lifted her cup. “This is good coffee.” “I brought that.” “Exactly.” “Terrible food.” “Sometimes.” “Clients.” “Definitely terrible.” “Motels.” “Criminal showers.” “Dust.” “Everywhere.” Birgitta smiled. “You.” Panam stopped. Birgitta's hand stayed under hers. “About a week.” Panam's fingers tightened slightly. “Maybe little over.” “Maybe little over.” For a moment neither woman moved. Then Panam rubbed her thumb across Birgitta's knuckles. “Still want me?” Birgitta's eyebrows rose. Panam realized what she'd said. Too late. Birgitta smiled slowly. “That is a dangerous question.” Panam laughed. “Fuck.” “You walked directly into that.” “I know.” Birgitta leaned across. Panam met her halfway. The kiss was slower this time. Coffee. Morning. Panam's hand sliding from Birgitta's fingers to her forearm. Birgitta touching Panam's jaw. Nothing urgent. Nothing tentative. They had time. That was the point. When they separated, Panam stayed close. Birgitta whispered: “Yes.” Panam's expression changed. “Yeah?” “Yes. I still want you.” Panam kissed her once more. Short. Almost soft. Then she sat back. “Good.” Birgitta left her hand on Panam's thigh. Panam started the truck. The engine came alive beneath them. Birgitta felt the vibration through the seat and floor. Panam checked the displays. Mirrors. Route. Fuel. Then she glanced at Birgitta. “You good?” Birgitta lifted her coffee. “Ask me after sunrise.” “That's fair.” Panam put the truck into gear. They moved away from the curb. For the first few blocks, Birgitta simply watched. Night City slowly waking around them. Delivery vehicles. Early workers. Street lights beginning to lose the argument with daylight. Panam drove with one hand. Her other rested briefly on the center space between them. Birgitta looked at it. Then at Panam. Panam kept her eyes on the road. Birgitta put her hand into it. Panam's fingers closed around hers. No comment. No significance assigned. They stayed that way until traffic required Panam's hand back. Birgitta released it before Panam needed to ask. Panam changed lanes. A minute later, at a long light, her hand returned. This time it landed on Birgitta's thigh. Birgitta smiled out the window. Panam glanced sideways. “What?” “Nothing.” “Bullshit.” Birgitta covered Panam's hand with hers. “I like this.” Panam looked ahead again. “The truck?” “You.” Panam's thumb moved against the reinforced fabric. “Dangerous answer.” “Accurate answer.” The light changed. Panam needed the hand. Birgitta let it go. Work. Touch. Road. Neither replacing the other. By the time the city began thinning around them, Birgitta had finished half her coffee. Panam had finished almost all of hers. The first route marker appeared on the display. Birgitta looked at it. Then at Panam. “How long to the first pickup?” “About forty minutes.” “And then?” “First delivery.” “Then?” “Food if the client doesn't fuck us.” “And if they do?” “Food later.” Birgitta nodded. “Courier work.” Panam glanced at her. “Still glamorous?” Birgitta looked at the road ahead. Then at Panam's hand on the wheel. Then down at the empty space Panam had made beside herself. “Yes.” Panam laughed. “Give it six hours.” “I'll report back.” “You do that.” Birgitta settled deeper into the seat. The practical trousers were comfortable. The boots were comfortable. The coffee was good. Panam was beside her. Her bag had a place. She had a place. And for the first time, there was no clock already counting down toward the moment Birgitta had to leave. There was only road. About a week of it. Panam reached over without looking and rested her hand briefly against Birgitta's knee. Birgitta put her own hand over it. The city fell away behind them. Neither woman looked back. --- ## Chapter 6 — First Miles Six hours later, Birgitta had a report. She turned toward Panam. “Still glamorous.” Panam stared at the road. “You're full of shit.” “Possibly.” “You've been sitting in that seat for six hours.” “Not continuously.” “Five and a half.” “We stopped.” “To load cargo.” “And?” “That doesn't count.” “It involved standing.” Panam glanced at her. “Your standards are terrifying.” Birgitta smiled. They had left the dense edge of Night City behind hours ago. The road had changed with the distance. So had the truck. Or maybe Birgitta had. At six in the morning, she'd climbed into a machine full of Panam's systems. By noon, she knew where half of them lived. Not because Panam had given her a tour. Panam did not give tours. Panam reached for things. Birgitta watched. Water lived behind Panam's seat, except for the two bottles kept forward. Food that needed to survive a long day lived in one compartment. Food Panam intended to eat soon lived somewhere else. Tools had an order. Route notes had an order. Emergency gear had an order. Everything had an order. Not always an order another human being would immediately understand. But an order. Birgitta had discovered this when she moved a folded route sheet six centimeters to make room for her coffee. Panam had looked at it. Then at her. Then at the paper. Birgitta had slowly moved it back. Panam had nodded. No words required. That had been three hours ago. Now Birgitta reached behind her without looking and found a water bottle. She held it toward Panam. Panam took it. “Thank you.” “You're welcome.” Panam drank. Handed it back. Birgitta returned it to exactly the place it had come from. Panam noticed. “Learning.” “I learn quickly.” “Yeah.” Something in Panam's voice made Birgitta look over. Not surprise. Approval. She liked that more than she expected. Birgitta settled back into the seat. The first pickup had been machine components from an industrial yard where the foreman had apparently considered clocks to be philosophical suggestions. They had waited thirty-eight minutes. Panam had spent twenty of them pretending she wasn't annoyed. Birgitta had spent twenty of them enjoying Panam pretending she wasn't annoyed. Then the cargo had arrived. Panam had secured the first side. Birgitta had taken the other without asking. Panam had looked at her once. That was all. No lesson. No explanation of straps. No concern that the expensive woman from Jig-Jig might somehow perish if exposed to cargo hardware. They had worked. Checked each other's work. Closed the truck. Left. Birgitta had liked that too. The road stretched ahead. Panam tapped the steering wheel once. “Hungry?” “Yes.” “Good.” Birgitta looked at her. “Good?” “I was going to stop anyway.” “How romantic.” “Fuel.” “Less romantic.” “And food.” “Recovered.” Panam laughed. Birgitta rested one elbow against the door. The first few hours had taught her something else. Panam talked differently on the road. Not dramatically. She simply let silence exist. At dinner, Panam had sometimes seemed to feel responsible for keeping a moment alive. Here, she didn't. Five minutes could pass with neither saying anything. Ten. Then Panam would point out a vehicle she'd seen before, complain about a stretch of resurfacing, mention a client, ask Birgitta a question, or say something completely unrelated. The silence wasn't empty. It was just road. Birgitta liked it. She liked it enough that she had stopped filling it too. Panam reached across and rested her hand on Birgitta's thigh. There was no traffic light this time. No pause. Her hand simply arrived. Birgitta looked down. Then at Panam. Panam kept her eyes on the road. Birgitta placed her hand over Panam's. “Distracted?” “No.” “Sure?” “Yes.” Birgitta slowly moved Panam's hand two centimeters higher. Panam's jaw tightened. Birgitta smiled. “Now?” “Still no.” “Impressive.” “Don't start something you can't finish in a moving truck.” Birgitta laughed. “I wasn't planning to.” “Liar.” “Maybe I enjoy making you think about later.” Panam finally glanced at her. “That word again.” “What word?” “You know.” Birgitta looked innocent. “Later?” Panam squeezed her thigh. “Yes.” Birgitta leaned closer. Not enough to interfere with Panam's view. Enough that her shoulder rested against Panam's upper arm for a moment. “I like later.” Panam's mouth twitched. “Yeah.” “So do you.” “Yeah.” There was no embarrassment in it. No retreat. Just fact. Birgitta sat back. Panam left her hand where it was. A few kilometers later, she needed both hands for a rough turn. Her hand disappeared. Birgitta didn't notice until afterward. That, she thought, was probably the point. --- The fuel stop was ugly. Not dangerous. Not interesting. Just ugly. A wide patch of old concrete beside a road that had stopped pretending anyone cared about landscaping decades ago. Fuel pumps. A small building. Three trucks. One vending machine with aspirations far beyond its capabilities. Panam pulled in. “Ten minutes.” Birgitta looked at the building. “Food?” Panam made a face. “Technically.” “That bad?” “I said technically.” They got out. Birgitta stretched. Properly. Back. Shoulders. Legs. Panam watched. Birgitta caught her. “Again?” “What?” “The trousers.” “I was checking your posture.” “Of course.” “You've been sitting.” “Panam.” Panam grinned and walked toward the fuel connection. Birgitta followed. “Need anything?” “Check the rear.” Birgitta did. Cargo seals intact. Doors secure. Nothing shifted. She checked underneath automatically. No obvious leak. Tires looked good. By the time she came around the other side, Panam was still fueling. “Fine.” Panam nodded. “Good.” Birgitta leaned against the truck beside her. For a while they simply stood there. Wind pushed dust across the concrete. A larger hauler moved somewhere beyond the building. Birgitta watched the numbers climb on the pump. Panam looked sideways at her. “What?” “Nothing.” “You're staring.” “So were you.” “I was checking your posture.” “I'm checking your fueling technique.” Panam snorted. “Asshole.” Birgitta smiled. Panam turned toward her. The kiss came without warning only because neither of them needed one. One second Panam was holding the fuel connection. The next her free hand had caught Birgitta lightly at the waist and pulled her in. Birgitta's hand settled against Panam's chest. The kiss was brief. Warm. Ordinary. Panam pulled back. Birgitta looked at her. “That was dangerously affectionate for a fuel stop.” “Shut up.” Birgitta kissed her again. Even shorter. Then she stepped away. Panam watched her go. “Menace.” Birgitta headed for the building. “Coffee?” “No.” She stopped. Turned. Panam pointed at her. “Absolutely fucking not.” Birgitta looked toward the vending machine. Then back. “You haven't even tried it.” “I have.” “Oh.” “Exactly.” “Food?” “Get something sealed.” “Your faith in this establishment is inspiring.” “Ten minutes.” Birgitta checked the time. “Now nine.” Panam stared. Birgitta smiled and went inside. --- The food was, in fact, technically food. Birgitta climbed back into the passenger seat with two sealed packages and a deepened appreciation for Lena's insistence on preparation. Panam got in a moment later. Birgitta handed one over. Panam read the label. “No.” “You said sealed.” “I didn't say suicidal.” “It's protein.” “It claims to be protein.” Birgitta opened hers. Panam watched. “You're actually eating that.” “Yes.” “Why?” “Because apparently food happens when it happens.” Panam stared at her. Then laughed. “Okay.” “What?” “Nothing.” “No. What?” Panam opened her own package. “You listened.” Birgitta paused. “Of course I listened.” “I know.” “Then why are you surprised?” Panam looked down at the food. “I'm not.” Birgitta watched her. There was more there. She could have pushed. Reyes would have known how. Reyes knew Panam well enough to recognize the edges of several possible answers. Birgitta didn't need to use all of that. So she bumped her knee against Panam's. “Eat your alleged protein.” Panam looked at her. Then smiled. “Yes, boss.” They ate. The food wasn't good. It also wasn't catastrophic. Birgitta considered that a victory. When Panam finished, she reached behind her. “Here.” A different bottle. Birgitta caught it. She looked at the label. Electrolytes. She looked at Panam. “What?” “You've been giving me water all morning.” “Yes.” “You brought this forward for me?” Panam shrugged. “Long day.” Birgitta opened it. “That's almost sweet.” “Don't ruin it.” She drank. Panam started the truck. Birgitta put the bottle into the forward storage beside her coffee. Panam noticed. “Keep that there.” “Mine?” “For today.” Birgitta smiled. One more thing with a place. --- The next stretch was rougher. Not difficult. Just enough broken surface to keep Panam actively driving. Birgitta watched the route display. “Delivery window?” “Forty-five minutes.” “We'll make it.” “If the road stays like this.” Birgitta looked ahead. It didn't. Ten minutes later the truck slowed behind a line of vehicles. Panam swore. Birgitta leaned forward. “What happened?” “Don't know.” Panam checked the route. Then another feed. Nothing useful. The line barely moved. Birgitta looked out the side window. “Can we turn off?” “Not here.” “Next junction?” “Maybe.” Panam enlarged the map. Birgitta leaned toward her. Their shoulders pressed together. Neither moved away. Panam traced a secondary road. “No.” “Why?” “Looks shorter than it is.” Birgitta studied it. “Elevation?” “And half of this isn't maintained.” “So we wait.” “For now.” Birgitta settled back. Panam sent a message to the client. Short. Professional. Delay ahead. Current estimate. No excuses. No drama. Birgitta watched the traffic. Five minutes. Seven. Panam's fingers began tapping against the wheel. Birgitta put her hand over them. The tapping stopped. Panam looked sideways. “You're going to have to get used to this.” “Traffic?” “Waiting.” Birgitta smiled. “I've waited for clients before.” “Not like this.” “No?” “Nothing to do.” “There's always something to do.” Panam raised an eyebrow. Birgitta lifted their joined hands slightly. Panam stared at her. Then laughed. “Jesus Christ.” “You walked into that one.” “I really didn't.” “You brought me.” “I'm beginning to understand the tactical error.” Birgitta leaned across and kissed her. Panam kissed back immediately. Long enough that the truck ahead moved several meters before either noticed. Panam broke away. “Fuck.” She moved the truck forward. Birgitta sat back, entirely pleased with herself. “That solved waiting.” “For you.” “You seemed involved.” Panam shook her head. “Menace.” “Still want company?” Panam didn't even hesitate. “Yes.” Birgitta went quiet. Panam glanced at her. “What?” “Nothing.” “Bullshit.” Birgitta smiled and looked out the windshield. “No. Nothing bad.” The traffic began moving properly five minutes later. Panam didn't ask again. --- ## Chapter 7 — First Delivery They made the delivery twelve minutes inside the revised window. The client was already waiting. Birgitta got out with Panam. The place was a fenced industrial yard with one loading door sitting slightly crooked in its frame and a man beside it who looked personally offended by the existence of schedules. Panam handled the introduction. Birgitta stayed half a step back. Not passive. Just letting Panam lead her own job. The man looked at Birgitta. Then at Panam. “New?” “Helping me this week.” Birgitta smiled. “Birgitta.” The man's eyes stayed on her a fraction too long. Not unusual. Road clothes or not, Lena hadn't made her invisible. Panam noticed. Birgitta noticed Panam noticing. Interesting. The man finally nodded. “Door's fucked.” Panam looked at it. “I can see that.” “Won't open all the way.” “Then why are we unloading here?” “Other one's worse.” Panam closed her eyes briefly. Birgitta bit the inside of her cheek. Panam looked at her. “Don't.” “I didn't say anything.” “Your face did.” That was becoming an epidemic. They opened the truck. The crooked loading door left less room than it should have. Annoying. Not impossible. Panam climbed up first. Birgitta followed. The first component was awkward rather than heavy. Panam took one side. Birgitta took the other. The client started to say something. Birgitta shifted her grip. The component moved smoothly. The client stopped talking. Good choice. They carried it down. Through the limited opening. Set it where directed. Back for the next. By the third, Panam had stopped checking whether Birgitta was positioned correctly. By the fourth, they were moving on each other's timing. “Left.” Birgitta moved. “Down.” Done. “Watch the frame.” “I see it.” They cleared it. The final piece was the worst. Panam looked at the gap. Then at Birgitta. “We rotate before the door.” “Clockwise.” “Yeah.” “Your side first.” Panam nodded. They lifted. Turned. Birgitta stepped backward through the gap. Panam adjusted without instruction. The component cleared by centimeters. They set it down. The client stared. Panam wiped her hands on her trousers. Birgitta did the same. The man looked at Birgitta. “You done this before?” Birgitta smiled. “Some merc work.” Panam looked at her. Not now. Later. The client accepted the delivery. Signed. Complained about something unrelated. Panam ignored most of it. Then they were back outside. Birgitta walked toward the truck. Panam followed. “Some merc work.” Birgitta opened the passenger door. “Yes.” Panam stopped beside her. “That was very smooth.” “Thank you.” “That wasn't a compliment.” “It sounded like one.” “How much merc work?” Birgitta turned. Panam was close. Birgitta rested one hand lightly against her waist. “Enough.” Panam looked at her. Birgitta smiled. Panam's eyes narrowed. “I'm going to ask again.” “Probably.” “Later.” Birgitta's smile changed. Panam realized it. “Oh, fuck you.” “Again with the promises.” Panam caught her by the jacket and kissed her. Harder than the fuel-stop kiss. Still brief. But definitely not casual. Birgitta's hand tightened at Panam's waist. Panam pulled back. “Get in the truck.” Birgitta looked at her mouth. “Bossy.” “Yes.” “I like it.” “I know.” That made Birgitta pause. Panam grinned. Then slapped the side of the truck once. “Food.” Birgitta climbed in. “Real food?” “Yes.” “How real?” “There's a place.” “You trust it?” “I stop there.” “That is not the same answer.” “It is on my road.” Birgitta looked at her. Panam walked around the truck. Her road. Birgitta liked the sound of that. Panam climbed behind the wheel. Birgitta handed her the water before she asked. Panam took it automatically. Drank. Handed it back. Birgitta returned it to its place. Panam started the engine. “Ready?” Birgitta settled into the passenger seat. “Yeah.” Panam pulled away from the yard. A few minutes later, without looking, she reached across. Her hand found Birgitta's thigh. Birgitta covered it with her own. The first delivery was behind them. Lunch was ahead. The truck already felt less like Panam's truck with a passenger in it. Not theirs. Not yet. But Birgitta's water had a place. Her bag had a place. Panam's hand seemed to have found one too. For the first day, that was enough. --- They made it three kilometers before Panam spoke. “Some merc work.” Birgitta looked out the passenger window. “Yes.” “That answer hasn't improved.” “I wasn't aware it required improvement.” Panam glanced at her. Birgitta smiled. The truck continued along the road. Panam's hand was still resting on Birgitta's thigh. That made the interrogation somewhat less intimidating. Birgitta covered it with her own. Panam looked down briefly. Then back at the road. “How much?” “Enough.” “You said that already.” “It remains accurate.” “You knew how to check the load.” “Yes.” “You knew where to stand before I told you.” “Yes.” “You saw the clearance on that door.” “Yes.” “You moved that last unit like you've done awkward cargo before.” Birgitta considered the accusation. “I have.” Panam's thumb moved against the reinforced fabric beneath her hand. “Birgitta.” “Panam.” “I don't care that you've done merc work.” “I know.” “I care if there's something I need to know before I put you beside cargo, send you around a vehicle, or expect you to watch something.” That was different. Birgitta turned slightly toward her. Panam wasn't digging. She wasn't trying to discover Birgitta. She was doing exactly what Panam did. Working out what the person beside her could be trusted to handle. Birgitta could answer that honestly. “I know vehicles.” Panam listened. “I know weapons.” A small nod. “I know how to move through bad places without becoming the most interesting thing in them.” Another nod. “I can handle cargo.” “I noticed.” “I know basic field medicine.” Panam glanced at her. “Useful.” “I can watch a perimeter.” “Also useful.” “I don't need you to explain which end of a strap goes where.” Panam smiled. “I noticed that too.” “But.” Panam waited. Birgitta squeezed her hand lightly. “This is your run.” Panam's expression changed. Not much. Enough. “So if you tell me you want something done your way, I do it your way.” Panam was quiet for a moment. Then: “Unless my way is stupid.” Birgitta laughed. “Obviously.” “Good.” “I reserve the right to tell you.” “I assumed you would.” “Repeatedly.” “Yeah.” “Possibly with insulting language.” Panam smiled. “Definitely assumed that.” Birgitta settled back. That could have been the end of it. Apparently Panam wasn't quite finished. “What kind of merc work?” Birgitta turned her head slowly. Panam's mouth twitched. “You said I could ask again.” “I said you probably would.” “Same thing.” “No.” “Close enough.” Birgitta considered how much Birgitta could reasonably give her. Not because generic mercenary competence was dangerous. It wasn't. Panam already knew it existed. The problem was detail. Detail built maps. Maps connected people. And Panam knew Reyes. Birgitta wasn't going to lie badly just because Panam was curious. So she chose the simpler truth. “Security. Escort work. Retrieval. Some jobs where people behaved. Some where they didn't.” “Solo?” “Sometimes.” “Team?” “Sometimes.” “Night City?” Birgitta looked at her. Panam sighed. “Too far?” “A little.” “Okay.” And stopped. Just like that. No pressure. No wounded curiosity. No attempt to make Birgitta justify the boundary. Birgitta watched her for a second. Then leaned across and kissed Panam's cheek. Panam blinked. “What was that for?” “Nothing.” “Bullshit.” Birgitta smiled. “Drive.” Panam looked suspicious. But she drove. Her hand stayed on Birgitta's thigh. --- The client called six minutes later. Panam answered through the truck. “Yes.” A man's voice filled the cab. “We may have a problem.” Panam closed her eyes briefly. Birgitta bit back a laugh. “What problem?” “The intake record isn't matching the manifest.” “You signed the manifest.” “I know.” “You watched us unload it.” “I know.” “You counted it.” “Yes.” Panam's grip tightened on the wheel. “So what exactly is not matching?” A pause. “System says one unit is missing.” Birgitta looked at Panam. Panam looked at Birgitta. Neither said anything. The man continued. “I need you to come back.” Panam's jaw moved. Birgitta could practically hear the profanity waiting behind her teeth. Instead Panam said: “Check the intake again.” “We did.” “Check the yard camera.” “Panam—” “We delivered five units.” “I know.” “You signed for five.” “Yes.” “We unloaded five.” “I know, but—” “Then check your intake.” Another pause. Birgitta looked out the window. Panam was magnificent when professionally irritated. The man sighed. “Give me a minute.” The connection remained open. Panam muttered something under her breath. Birgitta looked at her. “What?” “Nothing.” “That sounded multilingual.” “It was.” Birgitta smiled. Panam glanced at her. “You think this is funny.” “A little.” “Wait until it's your client.” “I've had clients.” “Right. Some merc work.” Birgitta squeezed her thigh. Panam's eyes flicked down. “Don't weaponize that.” “I'm not doing anything.” “You're doing something.” The client's voice returned. “Found it.” Panam went very still. Birgitta looked toward the speaker. “Where?” “Wrong intake field.” Silence. “Sorry.” Panam breathed in. Birgitta waited. “Anything else?” “No.” “Good.” The connection ended. Three seconds passed. Panam said: “Fucking clients.” Birgitta laughed. Panam looked at her. “You're enjoying this way too much.” “I'm learning.” “Learning what?” “What courier work actually is.” “And?” Birgitta considered. “Driving long distances so other people can lose things you've already given them.” Panam stared at her. Then laughed. “Okay. That's pretty fucking close.” “I learn quickly.” “Yeah.” There it was again. That particular _yeah_. Birgitta had heard it earlier. She was beginning to understand it. Panam wasn't surprised that Birgitta could do things. She was recalibrating. The woman Panam knew had first existed in expensive clothes, under neon, working a room where attention itself had a price. Then dinner. Then Panam's bed. Then mornings. Now Birgitta had stood beside her in an industrial yard, checked cargo, read clearances, moved weight, and understood when to let Panam run the job without mistaking that for passivity. Different context. Same woman. Birgitta liked Panam learning that. She suspected Panam liked it too. --- Ten minutes later Panam pulled off the road. Not at a stop. Just a wide enough patch of hard ground to safely get the truck clear. Birgitta looked around. “Problem?” “No.” Panam set the brake. Then got out. Birgitta watched her through the windshield. Panam walked around the truck. Checked one side. Rear. Other side. Birgitta opened her door. “Something wrong?” “Post-delivery check.” Birgitta got out. Panam looked at her. “I can sit in the truck if you'd prefer.” “I didn't say that.” “No.” Birgitta closed the door. “What do you want?” Panam pointed toward the rear. “Doors and seals.” Birgitta nodded. No explanation required. She walked back. The cargo space was empty now, but the delivery had involved enough awkward movement that checking everything afterward made sense. Rear doors. Locks. Seals. Hinges. Nothing damaged. Birgitta crouched. Looked underneath. No problem. She stood and found Panam watching her from the opposite side. “What?” “Nothing.” “That word is becoming meaningless.” Panam walked closer. “You always check underneath?” “When appropriate.” “Why?” Birgitta shrugged. “Because problems aren't required to happen where I can see them standing up.” Panam stopped beside her. For a second, the professional appraisal was unmistakable. Not suspicion. Not cover recognition. Respect. Then Panam reached out and brushed a streak of dirt from Birgitta's sleeve. “You missed some glamour.” Birgitta looked at the mark. “Shit.” “Want to go home?” “Immediately.” Panam smiled. Birgitta stepped closer. “Actually…” She caught the front of Panam's jacket. Panam came willingly. The kiss was quick. Easy. Panam's hands found Birgitta's waist automatically. Birgitta kissed her once more. Then pulled back. “No.” “No?” “I think I'll survive.” Panam's hands remained where they were. “Brave.” “I've done some merc work.” Panam groaned. Birgitta laughed. “Oh, that's staying.” “I hate you.” “No, you don't.” Panam looked at her. The callback landed. A smile appeared. “No.” Birgitta kissed her again. Just because she could. Then stepped away. “Truck?” “Truck.” They climbed back in. --- Panam didn't start driving immediately. She brought up the route instead. Birgitta watched. “Next pickup?” “Later.” Panam moved through two screens. “Delivery after that isn't until evening.” “How late?” “Depends on them.” “That sounds encouraging.” “They're usually okay.” “Usually.” “Don't.” Birgitta smiled. Panam checked the time. Then the route. Then looked at Birgitta. “Food.” Birgitta immediately sat straighter. “Real food?” “Yes.” “How real?” “Actual plates.” “Oh.” “Don't sound so shocked.” “After the protein incident, my standards changed.” “You chose that.” “You told me to get sealed food.” “I expected judgment.” “You brought me because of my judgment?” “Clearly not.” Birgitta put one hand over her heart. “Cruel.” Panam started the truck. Birgitta looked at the route display. The place Panam had selected wasn't directly on the fastest line to the next pickup. Not far off. But off. “You use this place?” “Yeah.” “Often?” “When I'm through here.” Birgitta looked at her. Panam concentrated very carefully on pulling back onto the road. Interesting. “So it's good?” “Yes.” “Coffee?” “Fine.” “Fine?” “Drinkable.” “From you, that's practically a recommendation.” “It is.” Birgitta settled into her seat. A few minutes passed. Panam drove. Birgitta watched the landscape. Then Panam said: “It's not fancy.” Birgitta turned. “I didn't ask.” “I know.” “Should I be worried?” “No.” “Then why are you warning me?” Panam frowned at the road. “I'm not warning you.” “Preparing me?” “No.” “Managing expectations?” “Birgitta.” She smiled. “Yes?” Panam sighed. “It's just a place I stop.” Birgitta understood. Not a restaurant Panam had chosen because Birgitta might like it. Not neutral ground. Not a date venue. A piece of Panam's normal road. Birgitta's teasing softened. “Okay.” Panam glanced at her. “Okay?” “Yeah.” No joke. No attempt to make Panam explain why that mattered. Birgitta simply reached across and put her hand on Panam's thigh. Panam covered it for a moment with her own. Then needed the hand back. The road continued. Birgitta looked ahead. First delivery done. Cargo gone. Client survived. Panam's professional questions answered enough for now. And somewhere up the road was a place Panam stopped when nobody was watching and nothing was being arranged for anyone else. Birgitta smiled. That interested her considerably more than glamorous courier work. Panam caught the smile. “What?” “Nothing.” “Bullshit.” Birgitta squeezed her thigh. “Drive.” Panam stared at her for half a second. Then laughed. “Yes, boss.” The truck carried them toward lunch. --- ## Chapter 8 — Panam's Road The place had six tables. Birgitta counted them through the windshield. Six tables inside. Three more outside beneath a sun-faded awning. A battered sign above the door. A parking area large enough for trucks because apparently somebody here understood the actual purpose of roadside food. Nothing decorative. Nothing curated. Nothing remotely interested in impressing her. Birgitta smiled. Panam noticed. “What?” “Nothing.” “Bullshit.” “You say that a lot.” “Because you say ‘nothing’ when it's something.” Panam parked along the side of the building. Birgitta looked at the place again. “This is where you stop?” “Sometimes.” “When you're through here.” “Yeah.” Birgitta nodded. Panam switched off the engine. Neither moved immediately. Panam looked through the windshield. Then at Birgitta. Then away. Birgitta saw it. She said nothing. Panam opened her door. “Come on.” Birgitta got out. The air was warmer now. Dry. Dust hung low over the edge of the road every time a vehicle passed. Birgitta stretched once, then walked around the front of the truck. Panam was waiting. Not obviously. Just slowly enough that they reached the door together. Birgitta bumped her shoulder against Panam's. Panam looked at her. “What?” “Nothing.” Panam narrowed her eyes. Birgitta smiled and went inside. --- The woman behind the counter looked up. “Panam.” “Hey, Jo.” Birgitta looked sideways. Panam caught it. “What?” “You have a Jo.” “I know people.” “Apparently.” Jo was somewhere past fifty, maybe farther, with grey threaded through dark hair and the kind of expression that suggested she'd spent decades watching road people arrive hungry and leave slightly less difficult. Her eyes moved to Birgitta. Then back to Panam. Not invasive. Just noticing. Panam said: “Birgitta.” Birgitta smiled. “Hi.” “Jo.” “Nice to meet you.” Jo nodded. “You eating?” Panam looked at Birgitta. There. Again. Quick. Almost invisible. Checking. Birgitta pretended not to notice. “Definitely.” Jo reached beneath the counter and handed Panam two menus. Panam didn't take them. “What's good?” Jo stared at her. “Same things that were good last week.” Birgitta laughed. Panam closed her eyes. “Thanks.” “You asked.” Jo looked at Birgitta. “She does this every time.” “Does she?” “No.” Panam took the menus. Jo smiled. Birgitta liked her immediately. They took a table beside the window. Not the best table. Not the worst. Just apparently Panam's preferred one, because she sat without considering any other. Birgitta sat opposite. Panam put one menu in front of her. “Don't order the fish.” Birgitta looked down. “There is fish?” “Technically.” “That word again.” “Yeah.” “What happened?” “I don't know.” “You ate it?” “Once.” “And survived.” “Barely.” Birgitta opened the menu. “Your life is full of narrow escapes.” “You have no idea.” Birgitta looked over the top edge. “I have some idea.” Panam smiled. Their knees touched under the table. Neither moved. Birgitta studied the menu. It was exactly what the building promised. Road food. Actual portions. Nothing plated vertically. Nothing described with three adjectives when one noun would do. She liked that. Panam was watching her. Birgitta continued reading. Panam looked away. Birgitta almost laughed. She turned the menu over. There was nothing on the back. She turned it back again. Panam looked at her. “Problem?” “No.” “Sure?” “Yes.” Birgitta read another item she had already read. Panam waited. Birgitta could feel the question from across the table. Not _what are you ordering?_ Something else. She let Panam suffer for another ten seconds. Then she lowered the menu. “I like it.” Panam blinked. “What?” “This place.” “You haven't eaten yet.” “I know.” “So how do you know?” Birgitta leaned back. “Because nobody here cares who I am.” Panam looked around. There were two truckers at another table. A couple sitting near the counter. One person eating alone while staring at an agent display. Nobody had looked at Birgitta for more than the normal moment required to register another person entering a room. No one recognized her from Jig-Jig. No one cared about the clothes. No one knew what she charged. No one wanted anything. Birgitta looked back at Panam. “And because you like it.” Panam's expression changed. “I didn't say that.” “You come back.” “It's convenient.” “You know Jo.” “She works here.” “You knew which table you wanted.” “I sat down.” “You know the fish is attempted murder.” “That is useful survival information.” Birgitta smiled. Panam tried not to. Failed. “Fine.” “Fine?” “I like it.” “There.” “What?” “That wasn't difficult.” “Yes, it was.” Birgitta laughed. Panam's knee pressed more firmly against hers. Jo appeared beside the table. “Decided?” Panam pointed at Birgitta. “She likes the place.” Jo looked at Birgitta. “Hasn't eaten yet.” “Thank you.” Birgitta smiled at Panam. Panam looked betrayed. Jo took their orders. Birgitta chose something involving grilled meat, potatoes and vegetables. Panam ordered without looking at the menu. Of course. Jo collected them. “Coffee?” Panam said, “Yeah.” Birgitta looked at her. Panam looked back. “What?” “You said drinkable.” “It is.” “I want to witness this.” “Two.” Jo walked away. Birgitta rested her forearms on the table. “So.” Panam immediately looked wary. “What?” “How often do you come through here?” “Depends on work.” “Weekly?” “Sometimes. Sometimes I don't see this road for a month.” “Jo remembers you.” “I tip.” “Ah. Your famous charm.” “Fuck you.” Birgitta smiled. “Later.” Panam stared at her. Birgitta had begun to enjoy what that word did to her. Not embarrassment. Not uncertainty. A tiny physical recalculation. As though some part of Panam's body heard it before the rest of her did. Panam leaned forward. “You keep saying that.” “Yes.” “Are you planning to keep saying it all week?” “Maybe.” Panam's eyes stayed on hers. “Careful.” Birgitta's smile changed. “Why?” “You might have to deliver.” There it was. Birgitta felt the response before she could hide it. Warm. Immediate. Panam saw. Of course she did. Her smile became slow. Birgitta tilted her head. “I've been told I'm good with deliveries.” Panam laughed hard enough that Jo looked over from the counter. Birgitta smiled sweetly. Panam lowered her voice. “You're impossible.” “You brought me.” “You asked.” “And you said yes.” Panam's expression softened around the edges. “Yeah.” Jo arrived with coffee. The moment broke naturally. No loss. There would be others. That was the strange luxury of a week. Nothing had to carry everything. Birgitta picked up the mug. Panam watched her. “Oh, now you're nervous.” “I'm not nervous.” “You're absolutely nervous.” “Drink it.” Birgitta smelled the coffee. “Promising.” “Birgitta.” She took a sip. Paused. Panam waited. Birgitta took another. “Well?” She put the mug down. “Drinkable.” Panam pointed at her. “See?” “Barely.” “Bullshit.” “Actually, it's good.” Panam sat back. Far too satisfied. Birgitta watched her. “You're proud of the coffee.” “I'm proud of being right.” “That sounds exhausting.” “You'd know.” Their food arrived before Birgitta could retaliate. And for several minutes conversation became less important. The food was good. Not elaborate. Not trying to be. Hot, substantial, properly seasoned, and clearly designed for people who might not eat again for hours. Birgitta made a quiet sound of approval. Panam heard. Of course. “Told you.” “You said nothing about the food.” “I brought you here.” “That isn't the same thing.” “It is.” Birgitta stole one of Panam's potatoes. Panam stared at her. Birgitta ate it. “That was mine.” “There are more.” “That isn't the point.” “What is the point?” “You have your own.” Birgitta looked at her own plate. Then at Panam's. Then stole another. Panam caught her wrist. Birgitta laughed. “Thief.” “You were too slow.” Panam still had her wrist. Birgitta looked down. Then up. Panam's thumb moved across the inside of it once. The joke quieted without disappearing. Birgitta turned her hand in Panam's grip. Their fingers linked. For a few seconds they sat that way across the table. Then Panam released her. Birgitta took a potato from her own plate. Panam nodded. “Learning.” Birgitta immediately reached over and stole another from Panam. “Fuck you.” “Later.” Panam nearly choked. Birgitta laughed. Jo passed their table. She didn't even slow down. “Don't kill my regular.” “I'll try.” Panam looked horrified. Birgitta laughed harder. --- They stayed longer than necessary. Not much. Ten minutes, perhaps. The next pickup wasn't urgent yet. Panam knew exactly how much margin they had. Birgitta suspected that was why she allowed herself the extra coffee. She also suspected Panam would deny it if asked. So she didn't. Instead they talked. Not about anything important. A truck outside with a paint job Panam hated. A customer who had once tried to pay part of a delivery fee in vegetables. Whether the vending machine at the earlier stop technically constituted a crime. A road farther south that Panam refused to use after rain. A coffee machine somewhere near the city that apparently had a personal vendetta against her. Birgitta listened. This was what she had wanted without knowing how to name it. Not information. Texture. The small pieces of someone's life that never became stories because they were too ordinary to tell. Panam had been here before. Sat at this table before. Complained about this coffee before. Driven these roads when Birgitta wasn't beside her. That shouldn't have mattered. It did. Birgitta liked seeing the shape Panam occupied when nobody had arranged the world around a date. Panam caught her watching. “What?” Birgitta shook her head. “Nothing.” Panam pointed at her. “No.” “No?” “You don't get to do that again.” Birgitta smiled. “Do what?” “Look at me like that and say nothing.” “How am I looking at you?” Panam opened her mouth. Stopped. Birgitta waited. Panam frowned. “Like you're thinking.” “That is generally what faces look like when attached to functional brains.” “Asshole.” Birgitta laughed. Panam leaned back. “Come on.” “No. You started this.” “I regret it.” “Too late.” Panam looked toward the window. Then back. “You're having a good time.” It wasn't quite a question. Birgitta answered anyway. “Yes.” Panam nodded. Too casually. Birgitta reached across the table and put her hand over Panam's. “You were worried.” “No.” “You were.” “I wasn't.” “You kept checking.” Panam stared at her. Birgitta smiled. “You checked when we came in.” “I looked at you.” “You checked when Jo spoke to me.” “That was normal.” “You checked when I read the menu.” “You were reading it like a contract.” “I was letting you suffer.” Panam's eyes narrowed. “You knew.” “Almost immediately.” “You're an asshole.” “Yes.” “You let me sit here wondering if you hated it.” “For maybe thirty seconds.” “That was thirty seconds too long.” Birgitta squeezed her hand. “I wanted to see how long you'd last.” Panam looked down at their hands. Then back up. “And?” “Not very.” “Fuck you.” Birgitta leaned forward. “Panam.” “What?” “I really do like it.” The defensiveness left. Panam looked at her. Birgitta continued. “I like seeing somewhere that's yours.” Panam's eyebrows moved. “Mine?” “Not literally.” “Good, because Jo would be surprised.” Birgitta smiled. “You know what I mean.” Panam did. That was obvious. She turned her hand beneath Birgitta's and linked their fingers. “Yeah.” No speech. No explanation. Enough. --- Outside, the afternoon had become brighter and hotter. Birgitta put on her sunglasses. Panam looked at them. “Those road-rated?” Birgitta stopped. Slowly turned. Panam grinned. “Don't.” “Actual sunglasses.” “Panam.” “Functional ankles. Functional eyes.” “I am going to hurt you.” “Some merc work?” Birgitta stared. Panam looked delighted with herself. “Oh, you're proud of that one.” “Very.” Birgitta walked toward her. Panam's grin faded slightly. Not because she was worried. Because Birgitta kept walking until there was almost no space between them. Panam looked down at her mouth. Birgitta put one hand at her waist. “You should be careful.” “Why?” Birgitta kissed her. Slowly. No rush. No reason for one. Panam's arms came around her. Birgitta felt Panam smile against her mouth halfway through. When they separated, Panam kept her close. “Is that hurting me?” “No.” “Didn't think so.” Birgitta kissed her again. Quickly this time. “That's because I'm merciful.” “Sure.” Panam's hand slid from Birgitta's waist to the small of her back as they started toward the truck. It stayed there. They crossed the parking area side by side. Birgitta leaned into her slightly. Not enough to make walking awkward. Just enough. At the truck, Panam opened the passenger door. Birgitta stopped before climbing in. “Thank you.” “For lunch?” “For bringing me here.” Panam shrugged. But Birgitta knew her better now. Not enough to read everything. Enough to see when a shrug carried more weight than it pretended to. “Yeah,” Panam said. Birgitta touched her cheek. Panam turned her head and kissed the inside of Birgitta's wrist. Casual. Automatic. It hit harder than it had any right to. Birgitta's fingers stayed against Panam's jaw for another second. Then she climbed into the truck. Panam closed the door. Birgitta watched her walk around the front. The place behind them was still just a roadside restaurant. Six tables. Drinkable coffee. Good food. Murderous fish. Jo. Nothing magical. Nothing transformed because Birgitta had been there. Good. She didn't want it transformed. She wanted to know it as Panam knew it. Panam climbed into the driver's seat. “Ready?” Birgitta nodded. “Ready.” Panam started the truck. Birgitta looked at the route display. “Next pickup?” “Machine parts.” “Exciting.” “Try to control yourself.” “When?” “About an hour and a half.” “And after?” Panam checked the schedule. “Delivery was supposed to be tonight.” “Supposed to?” “They messaged while we were eating.” Birgitta looked at her. “Problem?” “Not really. Their receiving crew is running late.” “How late?” Panam brought up the message. “Could still happen tonight.” Birgitta waited. Panam frowned at the display. “Or they might push us to morning.” “Which?” “They haven't decided.” Birgitta laughed. “Courier work.” “Yep.” Panam put the truck into gear. They pulled away. Birgitta looked back once at the small building. Then forward. Panam's hand left the wheel for a moment. Found Birgitta's knee. Birgitta put her hand over it. Neither said anything. The next pickup was ninety minutes away. The evening delivery might happen. It might not. They didn't know where they were sleeping yet. And for the first time all day, Birgitta realized she didn't care. They had the truck. They had the road. They had each other. The rest could decide itself when they got there. --- ## Chapter 9 — First Motel At 18:47, Panam said: “No.” Birgitta looked up from the route display. “No?” “No.” Panam tapped the message that had arrived less than a minute earlier. The receiving crew had finally made a decision. They could take the delivery tonight. At 22:30. Maybe. Birgitta read it again. Then looked at the route. Three hours. A little more if the road crews they'd already fought once that afternoon were still moving traffic through one lane. Panam's jaw was tight. “They want us to drive three more hours so we can sit outside their fucking gate until somebody remembers we're there.” Birgitta looked at the message. “They did say maybe twenty-two thirty.” “Exactly.” “Ah.” “And if they're late again?” “We wait.” “In the truck.” “Yes.” “Then unload.” “Yes.” “Then find somewhere to sleep after midnight.” “Probably.” Panam looked at her. “No.” Birgitta smiled. “There it is again.” “What?” “Your famous customer service.” “Fuck their customer service.” Panam opened the comms channel. Birgitta settled back and listened. The conversation lasted less than three minutes. Panam was professional. Completely. No raised voice. No profanity. No negotiation disguised as pleading. The cargo had been ready on schedule. The pickup had happened. Their route delay had already been communicated. The receiving crew had moved the window twice. Panam would deliver at 07:30 tomorrow morning. If they wanted another time, they could provide a guaranteed staffed receiving window. Silence. Then: 07:30 was fine. Panam ended the call. Birgitta looked at her. “That was disappointingly civilized.” “I wanted to tell them to fuck themselves.” “I could tell.” “Could you?” “Your left eyebrow was doing violence.” Panam laughed despite herself. Then she rubbed both hands over her face. The day had finally reached her. Birgitta saw it now that the problem had stopped demanding attention. The slight heaviness around Panam's eyes. The way her shoulders had settled lower. They had picked up the machine parts after lunch. That should have been easy. It had not been easy. The parts themselves had been ready. The paperwork had not. Then somebody had discovered a serial number mismatch. Then somebody else had discovered that the mismatch was in their own records. Then a road crew had turned a forty-minute section into almost ninety. Nothing dramatic. Nothing dangerous. Just work. Hours accumulating one irritation at a time. Birgitta had begun to understand why Panam planned margins. Not because catastrophe was constant. Because inconvenience was. Panam looked at the route display again. “We stop.” “Good.” “There's a motel about twenty minutes from here.” “You know it?” “I know where it is.” “That wasn't my question.” “I've slept there.” Birgitta raised an eyebrow. Panam noticed. “Actually slept.” “I didn't say anything.” “Your face did.” “Apparently everybody can do that now.” Panam started the truck moving again. Birgitta watched her. “Food?” “There's something near the motel.” “Technically food?” “Better.” “Shower?” Panam made a face. “That I can't promise.” Birgitta smiled. “Criminal?” “Potentially.” “Exciting.” Panam glanced at her. “You're weirdly cheerful.” “We stopped working.” “We're still carrying cargo.” “We stopped driving toward people who can't operate a clock.” “Fair.” Birgitta reached across. Her hand settled at the back of Panam's neck. She rubbed gently with her thumb. Panam exhaled. The reaction was immediate. Birgitta smiled. “Tired?” “No.” “Liar.” “Little.” “Hungry?” “Yes.” “Shower?” “Yes.” “Bed?” Panam looked sideways. Birgitta's hand remained at her neck. “Yeah.” Birgitta smiled. “Good.” Panam's eyes returned to the road. There was a tiny pause. Then: “Later.” Birgitta laughed. “Oh, now you want that word.” “Shut up.” --- The motel was exactly as glamorous as Panam had promised. Two floors. Exterior walkways. A parking lot with enough space for trucks if everyone agreed not to be creative. A sign that had once been illuminated evenly. One letter had apparently resigned. Birgitta stood beside the truck and looked at it. Panam came around the front. “Well?” “I've charged people twenty-five thousand and one for considerably nicer surroundings.” Panam stopped. “That extra one still bothers me.” “Good.” “Why one?” “Because twenty-five thousand is boring.” Panam stared at her. Birgitta smiled. “Come on.” They went inside. The reception area contained one tired clerk, one artificial plant and a coffee machine Panam looked at with immediate distrust. Birgitta saw it. “No.” “I wasn't going to.” “You were assessing it.” “I assess threats.” The clerk looked up. Panam handled the room. Birgitta stood beside her, half listening while checking tomorrow's weather on her agent. “One room,” Panam said. The clerk tapped something. “Two beds?” Panam answered immediately. “One.” Birgitta looked up. Panam did not look at her. The clerk didn't care. “One queen available.” “Fine.” Birgitta slowly smiled. Panam felt it. That was obvious. Still didn't look. The clerk completed the booking. Panam paid. Took the access card. Turned. Birgitta was waiting. “What?” “Nothing.” “Don't.” “I didn't say anything.” “You're smiling.” “I smile frequently.” “Not like that.” Birgitta stepped closer. “One bed.” Panam finally looked at her. “Yes.” “Deliberately.” “Yes.” No embarrassment. No excuse. Birgitta liked that answer very much. Panam stepped closer too. “You planning to complain?” “No.” “Good.” Birgitta leaned in. “Later?” Panam's eyes dropped to her mouth. “Food first.” “Responsible.” “Unfortunately.” Birgitta kissed her. Brief. Just enough to make the clerk very interested in not watching them. Then she took the access card from Panam's hand. “Room.” Panam stared after her. “That's mine.” “Ours.” A pause. Then Panam followed. “Menace.” --- The room had one bed. A small table. Two chairs. A bathroom. A window facing the parking lot. And approximately seventeen square centimeters of decorative ambition. Birgitta put her travel bag down. Panam immediately checked the window. Lock. Parking lot sightline. Truck visible. Then the door. Birgitta watched. “You do that every time?” “Yes.” “Good.” Panam looked at her. “You too?” “Yes.” “Some merc work.” Birgitta pointed at her. “Careful.” Panam grinned. Birgitta opened the bathroom door. Looked inside. Then leaned back out. “Panam.” “What?” “You lied.” “About?” “The shower.” Panam came over. Looked. The shower was technically present. It was also small enough that one person could use it comfortably provided that person did not have elbows. Panam sighed. “I said I couldn't promise.” Birgitta stepped inside the bathroom. Panam followed as far as the doorway. Birgitta looked at the shower. Then at Panam. Then back. “Too small.” Panam's eyebrows rose. “For what?” Birgitta stared at her. Panam's smile appeared. “Oh.” “Yes. Oh.” “We could probably—” “No.” “Coward.” “I enjoy mobility.” Panam laughed. Birgitta brushed past her. “Tomorrow.” “Tomorrow?” “We find a bigger shower.” Panam leaned against the doorframe. “Is that part of courier planning now?” “It is part of my route requirements.” “High maintenance.” “You knew that.” “I really did.” Birgitta opened her travel bag. The clothes inside were still organized. Mostly. She took out a clean shirt. Panam watched. “What?” “Nothing.” “Panam.” “Lena really packed you for this.” Birgitta looked down at herself. Dust along the trousers. A faint mark on one sleeve. Boots no longer remotely pristine. “Yes.” “You okay with that?” Birgitta looked at her. “With what?” Panam gestured. “Getting all of it dirty.” Birgitta laughed. “Panam.” “What?” “They're clothes.” “Expensive clothes.” “They're Lena's clothes.” “That makes my point stronger.” Birgitta smiled. “She made them to get dirty.” Panam nodded. Then her gaze moved down the trousers again. Birgitta caught it. “Still practical?” Panam looked up. “Very.” “Good.” “Extremely practical.” “Eyes.” “I'm appreciating the reinforcement.” “Of course.” Panam grinned. Birgitta threw the clean shirt at her. Panam caught it. “Food.” --- Dinner came in containers. They ate sitting side by side on the edge of the bed because the little table had somehow become the place where route notes, chargers, Panam's jacket and Birgitta's agent all accumulated within fifteen minutes. Birgitta looked at it. “Your system is spreading.” Panam followed her gaze. “That isn't the system.” “What is it?” “Temporary staging.” Birgitta laughed. “That's clutter with confidence.” “Fuck you.” “Later.” Panam pointed her fork at her. “Eat.” Birgitta stole a piece of food from Panam's container. Panam stared. “You have your own.” “This again?” “Yes.” Birgitta ate it. Panam retaliated. Birgitta looked down at her own container. “You stole mine.” “Yeah.” “Thief.” “Learning.” Birgitta bumped her shoulder against Panam's. Panam bumped back. They ate. Tomorrow's delivery came up. 07:30. Wake at 05:45. Coffee by 06:10. Truck check. Leave by 06:30. Panam said it all as though tomorrow were already arranged into pieces inside her head. Birgitta listened. “Anything you want me doing?” “Rear and cargo check while I do the truck.” “Done.” “Coffee?” “I'll get it.” Panam looked at her. “You don't have to.” “I know.” “There's probably a machine.” “No.” Panam laughed. “Good.” “I'll find actual coffee.” “You may have to drive.” Birgitta looked at her. Panam looked back. Then: “I'll get coffee.” “Excellent decision.” Panam shook her head. “You're spoiled.” “I am expensive.” “Not the same thing.” “Sometimes.” Panam's expression softened. “No.” Birgitta paused. Panam didn't elaborate. Birgitta didn't make her. Instead she leaned against Panam. Just a little. Panam shifted automatically to make room. Her arm went around Birgitta's waist. They finished eating like that. --- The bags found places. Boots found places. Dirty clothes began a pile that was not quite laundry yet but had clear ambitions. Panam put tomorrow's clothes over the back of a chair. Birgitta copied her. Panam noticed. “Learning.” “Your system.” “Our room.” The words came out before Birgitta thought about them. Panam looked at her. Birgitta looked back. Nothing dramatic happened. Panam simply smiled. “Yeah.” Our room. For one night. That was all. It was enough. Birgitta pulled her shirt over her head. Panam didn't stop talking. “Truck should be fine overnight. I'm still checking it before we sleep.” “Of course.” “Cargo hasn't moved.” “Good.” “Temperature isn't an issue.” Birgitta unfastened the reinforced trousers. Panam's sentence slowed slightly. Birgitta looked at her. “Problem?” “No.” She stepped out of the trousers. Panam watched. Birgitta smiled. “You were saying?” “Cargo.” “Yes?” “Fine.” “Excellent report.” “Asshole.” Birgitta laughed. There was no awkwardness in changing beside each other. Why would there be? Panam knew what Birgitta looked like without clothes. Birgitta knew exactly how Panam's hands felt on her skin. The novelty wasn't nudity. It was folding the clothes afterward. Putting tomorrow's shirt on a chair. Watching Panam pull off her boots and leave them beside Birgitta's. Ordinary things. Birgitta picked up the clothes Panam had dropped. Panam looked at her. “What?” “Chair.” Panam pointed. “I was going to.” “Of course.” Birgitta put them there. Panam walked up behind her. Arms around her waist. Birgitta leaned back into her without thought. Panam kissed her shoulder. Then her neck. Birgitta closed her eyes. “Truck.” Panam stopped. “What?” “You said you were checking it.” Panam groaned against her shoulder. “I hate you.” Birgitta turned in her arms. “No, you don't.” Panam kissed her. “Five minutes.” “Truck first.” “Responsible.” “Unfortunately.” Panam kissed her again. Harder. Then pulled away with visible effort. “Five minutes.” Birgitta watched her put her jacket back on. “Panam.” “What?” Birgitta pointed down. Panam followed her finger. She was still barefoot. “Fuck.” Birgitta laughed. --- The shower was criminal. Individually. Birgitta went first. The water pressure oscillated between acceptable and philosophical. Temperature control appeared to be based on prayer. She washed the road off anyway. When she came out wrapped in a towel, Panam was sitting on the bed checking tomorrow's route. Panam looked up. Stopped. Birgitta smiled. “Still working?” “Trying.” “Problem?” “No.” “Your face says otherwise.” Panam looked deliberately back at the route. Birgitta walked past her. Close. Very close. Panam caught the edge of her towel. Birgitta stopped. Looked down. Then at Panam. “Really?” Panam smiled. “Accident.” “Of course.” Birgitta leaned down and kissed her. Panam's hand moved from the towel to the back of Birgitta's thigh. Birgitta kissed her again. Then straightened. “Shower.” Panam stared. “You're cruel.” “You smell like road.” Panam's eyebrows rose. “What the fuck does road smell like?” Birgitta considered. “You.” Panam stared at her. Birgitta smiled. “Shower.” Panam stood. As she passed, she caught Birgitta around the waist and kissed her once. Slowly. “Later.” Then disappeared into the bathroom. Birgitta stood still for a second. “Oh, you bitch.” From behind the bathroom door: “I heard that.” “You were supposed to.” --- Later arrived at 21:16. Not because either of them had planned it for 21:16. Because Panam came out of the bathroom wearing very little, hair damp, carrying the clothes she'd changed out of. Birgitta was sitting against the headboard in a thin sleep shirt, one leg bent, tomorrow's route open on her agent. Panam stopped. Birgitta looked up. There was no question in either woman's face. Only recognition. There you are. Panam put the clothes on the chair. Birgitta set the agent aside. “Done working?” “Yeah.” “Sure?” Panam looked at the abandoned route. Then at Birgitta. “Yeah.” She crossed the room. Birgitta reached for her before Panam had fully reached the bed. Panam's knee sank into the mattress. Birgitta's hands found her waist. Panam bent and kissed her. No teasing this time. Not immediately. The first kiss was slow. Familiar. A continuation rather than a beginning. Birgitta knew how Panam kissed when she was tired. Less performance. Less challenge. More weight. Panam knew exactly how Birgitta responded when a hand slid beneath the hem of her shirt. Birgitta inhaled against her mouth. Panam smiled. “There.” Birgitta opened her eyes. “What?” “You.” Birgitta pulled her closer. “Come here.” Panam did. The sleep shirt began losing the argument. Birgitta helped. Panam laughed softly when it caught for half a second. “Very smooth.” “Shut up.” “Expensive professional.” Birgitta got free of it and threw it toward the chair. It missed completely. Panam looked. Birgitta caught her face in both hands. “Don't.” Panam laughed into the next kiss. There was no discovery in the way they touched. They had done this before. They knew enough to skip uncertainty and still pay attention. A hand asking without words. A body answering. A pause when one of them shifted. A quiet “Yeah?” A quieter “Yes.” Panam moved closer. Birgitta made room because she already knew how. When sex actually began, Birgitta's breath caught against Panam's mouth. Not surprise. Recognition. Her fingers tightened at Panam's shoulder. Panam went still for one heartbeat, reading her the way she always did. Birgitta smiled and pulled her closer. “Yeah.” Panam kissed her and moved with her again. The motel disappeared in pieces. The terrible shower. The late client. The road crews. The machine parts. The long day. This was not a boundary crossed for the first time. They were lovers at the end of a long workday, in bed together, with nowhere else either of them needed to be. Warm skin. Familiar hands. Laughter when an elbow found the wall. A whispered complaint about the size of the bed that neither of them meant. Panam's mouth against Birgitta's neck. Birgitta pulling her back when she tried to move away too soon. Pleasure built without hurry until teasing stopped being useful. When the last tension finally let go, Panam stayed close instead of turning the moment into an ending. Birgitta held her there. Then came the quiet. --- Birgitta lay half beneath Panam. One of Panam's legs was tangled with hers. Panam's head rested against her shoulder. Birgitta had one hand on Panam's back. Neither moved. The room hummed softly around them. Somewhere outside, a vehicle crossed the parking lot. The air unit made a noise that suggested mechanical despair. Panam breathed against Birgitta's skin. Birgitta traced one slow line down her back. Panam made a quiet sound. “Don't start again.” Birgitta smiled. “I moved my hand.” “Dangerously.” “Should I stop?” “No.” Birgitta continued. Slow. Nothing demanding. Just touch. Panam's hand rested low on Birgitta's stomach. Her fingers moved once. Then stopped. Birgitta kissed the top of her head. “That was later.” Panam laughed against her. “Yeah.” “Worth waiting?” Panam lifted her head. Looked at her. Then kissed her. Softly. “Yes.” Birgitta smiled. Panam settled back down. For several minutes they said nothing. Birgitta could feel Panam getting heavier against her. Not physically. Sleep. Coming quickly now that Panam had stopped moving. “Tired?” “No.” Birgitta laughed quietly. Panam pinched her side. “Asshole.” “You're falling asleep on me.” “Comfortable.” That landed somewhere unexpectedly warm. Birgitta's hand moved up into Panam's damp hair. Panam closed her eyes. Tomorrow they would wake before six. Check the truck. Find coffee. Deliver machine parts to people who might or might not understand their own paperwork. Drive again. Work again. Eat when they could. Find somewhere else to sleep. And perhaps this again. Not a date ending. Not a booking ending. Not a morning where one of them had to wonder what leaving meant. Just tomorrow. Birgitta looked at the ceiling. Seven nights. Maybe eight. She had understood that intellectually. Lying here with Panam half asleep against her, she understood it differently. Panam's breathing slowed. Birgitta smiled. “Hey.” No answer. “Panam.” A sleepy noise. Birgitta's smile widened. “Nothing.” Panam's arm tightened around her. Within minutes, she was asleep. Deeply. Birgitta stayed awake a little longer. Not checking. Not analyzing. Just feeling the weight of Panam beside her. The warmth. The hand still resting against her. The fact that her own boots were beside Panam's near the door. Tomorrow's clothes shared the same chair. Their bags had places. Their bodies already knew where to go. For tonight, there was no Reyes. No safehouse. No Jig-Jig. No clock counting down a date. Just Birgitta. Panam. A mediocre motel. And tomorrow. Birgitta closed her eyes. Seven nights suddenly didn't feel like a long time. If anything, it might not be long enough. --- ## Chapter 10 — Another Morning Birgitta woke because Panam moved. Not away. Closer. The room was still mostly dark. Thin grey light had begun collecting around the curtains, but the motel hadn't yet become morning in any meaningful sense. Birgitta kept her eyes closed. Panam's leg was between hers. One arm across her waist. Warm breath against the back of her neck. At some point during the night they had changed positions completely. Birgitta didn't remember doing it. Apparently their sleeping bodies had negotiated without supervision. Panam shifted again. Her arm tightened. Birgitta smiled. Then Panam's face pressed into her shoulder. A sleepy voice: “What time?” Birgitta reached blindly toward the table. Found nothing. Reached farther. Found Panam's agent. Wrong. Panam made a noise of protest. “Thief.” “Yours was closer.” “That's mine.” “I gathered that.” Birgitta opened one eye. 05:38. She put the agent back. “Five thirty-eight.” Panam groaned. “No.” “You scheduled this.” “Past Panam is an asshole.” “Current Panam isn't exactly innocent.” Panam's hand moved lazily over Birgitta's stomach. Birgitta felt yesterday in her body. Not pain. Awareness. Warmth. The quiet physical memory of having spent the night with someone who already knew her well enough not to need instructions for everything. Panam kissed the back of her shoulder. Birgitta closed her eyes again. “Checking?” Panam went still. Only for a second. Then Birgitta felt her smile against her skin. “No.” “Good.” Panam's arm tightened. “I already knew.” Birgitta opened her eyes. There it was. Exactly what Panam had wanted after the second morning. Not waking and checking whether Birgitta was still there. Knowing. Birgitta turned carefully in Panam's arms. Panam let her. Their faces ended up close. Hair messy. Eyes barely open. Neither remotely glamorous. Birgitta smiled. “Morning.” Panam kissed her. Soft. Sleepy. No urgency. “Morning.” Birgitta kissed her again. Panam's hand settled at her hip. The kiss lingered. Then Birgitta felt Panam beginning to wake properly beneath it. She pulled back slightly. Panam followed. Birgitta laughed. “We have to work.” “You started it.” “I said good morning.” “With your mouth.” “That is generally how speech works.” Panam stared at her. Birgitta smiled. Panam pulled her closer. “Five more minutes.” “You have a schedule.” “Fuck the schedule.” “That's a dramatic change in policy.” “Five.” Birgitta considered. Panam's eyes were already closing again. “Fine.” “Good.” “But I'm counting.” “Asshole.” Birgitta tucked herself against Panam. Panam's chin settled above her head. Silence returned. Thirty seconds passed. Maybe forty. Panam's breathing began slowing again. Birgitta smiled. “Panam.” “No.” “You're going back to sleep.” “No.” “You absolutely are.” “Five minutes.” “We haven't reached one.” “Then stop talking.” Birgitta laughed quietly. Panam's hand moved once at her back. Then stopped. Birgitta let the silence stay. This was different from the first morning. Not because Panam held her differently. Not because the bed was worse. Not because they had spent the previous evening working before ending up naked together. It was different because neither of them was asking the morning what it meant. It was simply morning. Their morning. For today. And there would be another one tomorrow. That thought was still new enough to feel good. --- At 05:45, Birgitta's alarm went off. Panam swore into the pillow. Birgitta reached across her and silenced it. This placed Birgitta half on top of Panam. Panam opened one eye. “Hi.” Birgitta looked down at her. “Don't.” Panam's hands settled at Birgitta's waist. “I'm not doing anything.” “You are absolutely doing something.” “I'm lying here.” “With hands.” “Hands are normal.” Birgitta tried to move. Panam held her. “Panam.” “What?” “Truck.” “Later.” “Coffee.” Panam released her immediately. Birgitta stared. “Wow.” “Priorities.” “I see where I rank.” Panam sat up. “Above truck.” “Below coffee.” “Nothing is above coffee at five forty-five.” “Fair.” They got out of bed. There was no scramble for clothing. No instinct to cover themselves. Birgitta crossed the room naked to retrieve her clean underwear. Panam walked into the bathroom wearing nothing at all. Neither commented. The bathroom door stayed open. Birgitta pulled on underwear. Then the clean road trousers. She was fastening them when Panam emerged brushing her teeth. Panam stopped. Looked at the trousers. Then at Birgitta. Birgitta pointed. “Toothbrush.” Panam continued brushing. Her eyes remained suspiciously low. “Panam.” A muffled response. “Eyes.” Panam looked up. Birgitta smiled. Panam gave her the finger. Birgitta laughed. She found her shirt. Panam returned to the bathroom. They moved around each other easily. One at the sink. One dressing. Then switch. Birgitta brushed her teeth while Panam pulled on her clothes. Panam reached around her for something beside the sink. Her body pressed briefly against Birgitta's back. Birgitta caught her eyes in the mirror. Panam kissed her shoulder. Then took the hair tie she'd been reaching for. Birgitta spat into the sink. “That was unnecessary.” Panam started tying back her hair. “No, it wasn't.” Birgitta smiled at the mirror. --- The first problem of the morning was a sock. Panam had one. The other had ceased to exist. Birgitta stood beside the bed holding her boots. Panam checked beneath the chair. “No.” “Bag?” “I checked.” “Bathroom?” “No.” “Under the bed?” Panam looked at the gap. Then at Birgitta. “You.” “What?” “Your side.” Birgitta stared. “You think I stole your sock?” “You stole my food.” “That was deliberate.” “So you admit it.” “Not the sock.” Panam crouched and looked under the bed. “Fuck.” “What?” “Nothing.” “Panam.” Panam reached underneath. Pulled out Birgitta's sleep shirt. Birgitta looked at it. Panam looked at her. “That missed the chair by a lot.” Birgitta took it. “We were busy.” Panam grinned. “Yes, we were.” “Sock.” “Right.” Birgitta put the shirt into the dirty-clothes pile. Then lifted the blanket. Nothing. Panam checked between mattress and wall. Nothing. Birgitta looked at the bed. Then at Panam. “Stand up.” “Why?” “Trust me.” Panam stood. Birgitta pulled the sheet back. The sock was underneath Panam's pillow. Silence. Birgitta picked it up. Held it between two fingers. Panam stared. “How?” “I don't want to know.” Panam took it. “I didn't put it there.” “I believe you.” “Do you?” “No.” “Fuck you.” Birgitta sat down to put on her boots. “Later.” Panam stopped. Birgitta looked up. Panam looked toward the bed. Then back at Birgitta. A slow smile. Birgitta pointed at her. “Truck.” “I didn't say anything.” “Your face did.” Panam laughed. --- At 06:03 they were packed. Birgitta looked around the room. Bags closed. Chargers collected. Nothing in the bathroom. Nothing beneath the bed. Nothing on the chair. Panam was checking the room too. Their eyes met. “Good?” “Good.” Birgitta picked up her bag. Panam took it from her. “I can carry that.” “I know.” “Then why—” Panam kissed her. Quickly. Then took the bag out the door. Birgitta stood there for half a second. “Manipulative bitch.” Panam called from outside: “Heard that.” “You were supposed to.” Birgitta followed. --- The morning air was cold enough to make Birgitta grateful for Lena's jacket. Panam put the bag behind the passenger seat. Same place. Birgitta noticed. Her place. Panam shut the door. “Truck.” “Coffee.” “Truck first.” “You've changed.” “Two minutes.” Birgitta sighed dramatically. “Fine.” Panam walked toward the front. Birgitta went toward the rear. No instruction needed. Doors. Seals. Cargo. Everything secure. She checked underneath. Walked the side. Tires. Nothing obvious. When she came around the front, Panam was finishing her own checks. Panam looked at her. “Good?” “Good.” “Cargo?” “Fine.” Panam nodded. “Coffee.” Birgitta smiled. “Finally.” They walked toward the small building beside the motel. It contained a reception desk, a few packaged breakfast items and, unfortunately, the coffee machine. Panam stopped in front of it. Birgitta stopped beside her. They stared. The machine stared back. Birgitta folded her arms. “You trust it?” “No.” “Alternative?” Panam looked around. There wasn't one. Birgitta sighed. “We may have to.” Panam pressed the selection. The machine made a noise. Nothing happened. Panam stared. “Don't.” Birgitta pressed her lips together. Panam pressed the button again. The machine made another noise. Still nothing. Birgitta looked away. Panam pointed at her. “Not one fucking word.” “I haven't said anything.” “Your shoulders are laughing.” Birgitta lost the fight. She laughed. Panam hit the button a third time. The machine finally dispensed coffee. Into the wrong cup position. Panam lunged. Too late. Coffee began pouring directly into the drip tray. Birgitta leaned against the counter laughing. “I hate this fucking thing.” “You said coffee machines hate you.” “They do.” “I thought you were exaggerating.” “I never exaggerate.” Birgitta laughed harder. Panam glared at the machine. Then at her. “You're getting yours.” “No.” “Yes.” “Absolutely not.” Panam pressed another button. Birgitta caught her wrist. “Panam.” “What?” “We're not drinking anything produced by an appliance that just attacked you.” Panam looked at the machine. The machine made an ominous internal click. Both women stepped back. Birgitta nodded. “See?” Panam sighed. “There's a place eight minutes down the road.” “Actual coffee?” “Yes.” “Why didn't we go there first?” “I thought this would be faster.” Birgitta looked at the coffee machine. Then at Panam. Panam pointed toward the door. “Don't.” Birgitta kissed her cheek. “Come on.” --- Eight minutes later, Panam had coffee. Actual coffee. Birgitta had coffee. Also actual coffee. They had breakfast wrapped in paper and enough time to make the delivery comfortably. Panam pulled back onto the road. Birgitta opened Panam's breakfast. Panam glanced at her. “What are you doing?” “Driving support.” “I can eat.” “You can drive.” “I can do both.” “I know.” Birgitta held the food toward her. Panam looked at it. Then took a bite. Birgitta smiled. “See?” “You're enjoying this.” “Yes.” “Why?” “Because you're trapped.” Panam laughed. Birgitta took a bite from her own breakfast. Then another. Panam looked sideways. “That was mine.” Birgitta looked down. She had, in fact, eaten from Panam's. “Oh.” “Oh?” Birgitta considered. Then held it toward Panam again. “Sorry.” Panam took another bite. “You're terrible at this.” “First morning.” Panam looked at her. Birgitta realized what she'd said. Not _the morning._ First morning. Of the run. Panam's expression softened. “Yeah.” Birgitta handed her coffee. Panam drank. Returned it. Birgitta put it into the holder. They drove. The sun climbed. The road brightened. The motel disappeared behind them. Birgitta settled her palm on Panam's thigh. Panam covered it briefly. Then returned her hand to the wheel. No checking. No wondering. No question about whether Birgitta would still be there. She was. Panam already knew. And tomorrow morning, unless the road had something spectacularly stupid planned, they would do it all again. --- ## Chapter 11 — Panam’s System At 07:21, Panam said: “Too early.” Birgitta looked at the clock. “Nine minutes.” “Exactly.” “You're complaining about being early.” “Yes.” “I thought early was good.” “Early is useful. Too early is annoying.” Birgitta looked at her. Panam kept driving. “I need a chart.” “For what?” “Your relationship with time.” “It makes perfect sense.” “To you.” “Yes.” “That isn't helping.” Panam smiled. They were nine minutes from the delivery window and less than three minutes from the receiving yard. Birgitta had expected Panam to simply arrive. Instead, Panam turned into a wide roadside pull-off. Stopped. Birgitta looked around. “Problem?” “No.” Panam checked the time. “Then why are we stopping?” “Because they said seven thirty.” “We could be there at seven twenty-four.” “Exactly.” Birgitta waited. Panam looked at her. “What?” “I'm waiting for the rest of the explanation.” Panam sighed. “If I arrive six minutes early and their gate isn't ready, I block somebody.” “Okay.” “If I pull somewhere stupid because they tell me to wait, that's my problem.” “Okay.” “If they see me early, sometimes they decide early means available and start changing things.” Birgitta smiled. “Clients.” “Clients.” “So we sit here for six minutes.” “Five now.” Birgitta nodded slowly. “Your system.” “Part of it.” Panam took a drink of coffee. Birgitta looked at the route display. Then the clock. Then Panam. “What happens if they're ready early?” “They can survive five minutes.” Birgitta laughed. Panam looked satisfied. At 07:27, she started the truck. They reached the gate at 07:30. Exactly. Birgitta looked at the clock. Then at Panam. Panam didn't look at her. “Don't.” “I didn't say anything.” “I can hear you thinking.” “That's concerning.” The gate opened. --- The delivery took twenty-three minutes. Nobody lost anything. Nobody discovered a paperwork emergency. The loading door worked. Birgitta considered the entire experience suspicious. She and Panam handled the cargo together. By now Panam didn't need to ask whether Birgitta knew what she was doing. She only told her what mattered for this load. “Rear one first.” “Got it.” “Don't release the left until I have this.” “Ready.” “Now.” Birgitta released it. Panam shifted the unit. “Clear.” They moved. Simple. Efficient. The receiving worker signed. Panam checked the record before leaving. Birgitta noticed that. Not just the signature. The actual record. Quantity. Time. Receiver. Confirmation. Panam caught her watching. “What?” “Nothing.” “Bullshit.” “I'm learning.” Panam's expression changed slightly. “Good.” Back at the truck, Birgitta checked the empty cargo area while Panam walked the vehicle. They met at the passenger side. Panam held out a water bottle. Birgitta took it. “You're drinking too.” “I know.” “That wasn't a question.” Panam stared at her. Birgitta stared back. Panam reached behind the driver's seat and got her own bottle. “Happy?” “Yes.” “Bossy.” “You like it.” Panam drank. “Sometimes.” Birgitta smiled. They climbed in. Panam brought up the route. Birgitta watched. Three stops appeared. A pickup. Fuel. Another contact point farther south. Panam tapped the fuel stop. Then moved it. Birgitta frowned. “Why?” “Price is better there.” “Enough difference to matter?” “No.” Birgitta waited. Panam glanced at her. “Bathroom's cleaner.” Birgitta laughed. “That is an excellent operational criterion.” “Also food.” “Better?” “Safer.” “Ah.” “And if the pickup takes too long, we use the first one instead.” “So this isn't the plan.” Panam looked at her. “It is the plan.” “You just gave me two plans.” “No. I gave you one plan with a threshold.” Birgitta smiled. “Okay.” Panam pointed at the fuel gauge. “If we're out of the pickup before ten fifteen, we keep going.” “To the second stop.” “Yes.” “If not?” “First stop.” “Fuel level?” “Still safe either way.” “How safe?” Panam looked at her. Birgitta raised an eyebrow. “You're the one teaching.” “I am not teaching.” “What are you doing?” “Explaining.” “Panam.” “Fine.” She tapped the gauge. “I don't let it get below this if I'm going somewhere I don't know.” Birgitta leaned closer. Their shoulders touched. Panam indicated another point. “This if I know the route.” “Why the difference?” “Options.” “Meaning?” “If I know every reliable fuel point for the next hundred fifty kilometers, I can run lower.” “And if you don't.” “I keep enough to change my mind.” Birgitta looked at her. That sounded like Panam in more ways than one. She decided not to say it. Mostly because she enjoyed living. Panam caught the expression anyway. “What?” “Nothing.” “Birgitta.” “Fuel.” Panam narrowed her eyes. Then put the truck into gear. --- The pickup was ready. This immediately made Panam suspicious. Birgitta noticed. “You're unhappy.” “No.” “Everything is ready.” “Exactly.” “You're upset because nothing went wrong.” “I am not upset.” “Concerned?” “No.” “Disoriented?” “Fuck you.” Birgitta laughed. They got out. This load was lighter. Sealed containers. Six of them. Panam checked the manifest. Then the containers. Then the manifest again. Birgitta waited. Panam pointed. “Third seal.” Birgitta looked. The number was correct. She looked closer. The physical seal itself wasn't seated cleanly. “Loose.” “Yeah.” The yard worker said: “It's fine.” Panam looked at him. “No.” He shrugged. “Seal number matches.” “It won't if it falls off.” “It won't.” Panam held out the manifest. “Replace it.” The worker looked irritated. Panam did not care. Birgitta leaned against the truck and waited. No intervention needed. The seal was replaced. Panam checked it. Then handed the manifest back. They loaded. When the final container was secured, Birgitta stepped down. Panam followed. “Now you're happy.” “I was happy before.” “No, you weren't.” “I was fine.” “You looked offended by efficiency.” Panam closed the cargo door. “Efficiency that survives contact with reality is fine.” Birgitta smiled. “There it is.” “What?” “The system.” Panam locked the door. “Loose seal becomes our problem if we accept it.” “Even if the client caused it.” “Especially then.” “Because?” “Because nobody gives a shit whose fault something was when you're standing on the side of the road with a problem.” Birgitta considered that. Panam continued. “You fix the cheap problem before it becomes the expensive problem.” Birgitta nodded. “That one I like.” “You should.” “Why?” “Because you're expensive.” Birgitta stared. Panam grinned. “Oh, fuck you.” Panam laughed. Birgitta caught her jacket. Pulled her close. Panam's hands immediately found Birgitta's waist. “Careful,” Panam said. “Why?” “Client.” Birgitta glanced toward the yard worker. He was very deliberately doing paperwork. She looked back at Panam. “So?” Panam smiled. Birgitta kissed her. Quickly. Then again because Panam tried to follow when she pulled away. Birgitta laughed against her mouth. “Work.” “You started it.” “You called me expensive.” “You are.” Birgitta stepped away. Panam let her go. Reluctantly. “Truck.” “Yes, boss.” --- They cleared the pickup at 09:52. Panam looked at the clock. Then at Birgitta. “Second fuel stop.” Birgitta smiled. “I know.” Panam paused. Then nodded. “Yeah.” No explanation. Birgitta knew the threshold now. She also knew where they were going. Not because she knew the road. Because she knew Panam's decision. That was different. They drove. At 10:18 Panam handed Birgitta the route notes. “Check the next contact.” Birgitta took them. “Call?” “Message first.” “Why?” “He hates calls.” Birgitta looked at the contact name. “You know him?” “Enough.” “What does enough mean?” “He pays on time and gets angry if you call while he's eating.” “Useful.” “Very.” Birgitta sent the message. Arrival estimate. Cargo confirmation. No unnecessary detail. The reply came less than a minute later. > `confirmed` Birgitta showed Panam. “Good.” She put the notes down. Panam glanced at them. “Not there.” Birgitta stopped. “Where?” “Side pocket.” She looked. There was a narrow compartment beside the center console. Birgitta put them in. Panam nodded. “Why?” “Because I need the main space clear.” Birgitta looked at the completely clear patch beside the console. “For?” “Things.” “What things?” “Things that need to be there.” Birgitta stared at her. Panam kept a straight face for almost three seconds. Then smiled. Birgitta laughed. “Your system is occasionally bullshit.” “My system works.” “I didn't say it didn't.” Panam pointed at the side pocket. “Contact notes there.” “Yes, boss.” “Don't start.” “I'm being cooperative.” “That's what worries me.” --- The second fuel stop had clean bathrooms. Birgitta verified this personally. When she came back out, Panam had fueled the truck and was standing beside the driver's door eating something from a paper wrapper. Birgitta stopped. Panam saw her. “What?” “You started without me.” “You were gone.” “For four minutes.” “I was hungry.” Birgitta walked closer. “Give me that.” Panam held the food away. “No.” “You told me yesterday food happens when it happens.” “Yes.” “Food is happening.” “Get your own.” Birgitta stepped closer. Panam moved the wrapper farther away. Birgitta put both hands at Panam's waist. Panam's eyebrows rose. “That's cheating.” “Is it?” “Yes.” Birgitta kissed her. Panam kissed back. Of course. Birgitta let it last just long enough. Then reached up. Panam broke the kiss. “Hey.” Too late. Birgitta had the food. She stepped back and took a bite. Panam stared at her. Birgitta chewed. Swallowed. “Good.” “You manipulative little shit.” Birgitta smiled. “You kissed me back.” “That isn't the point.” “It weakens your legal case.” Panam grabbed her around the waist. Birgitta laughed. Panam took the food back. “Mine.” “Possessive.” “Yes.” Birgitta kissed her cheek. “Fine.” Panam looked at the wrapper. Then tore off a piece and handed it to her. Birgitta accepted it. “Thank you.” “You're impossible.” “You like me.” Panam took another bite. “Unfortunately.” Birgitta leaned against the truck beside her. Their shoulders touched. For a minute they ate in silence. Then Panam handed Birgitta a bottle of water. Birgitta took it. “Drink.” “Yes, boss.” Panam smiled. This time she didn't object. --- Back in the truck, Panam opened the route. “Next stop is two hours.” Birgitta nodded. “Food before or after?” Panam looked at her. “You're learning.” “That wasn't an answer.” “After.” “Water?” “We're good.” “Fuel?” “Good until tomorrow if we have to.” “Emergency margin?” Panam glanced sideways. “Good.” Birgitta nodded. Panam smiled. “What?” “Nothing.” “No.” Panam laughed. “You're getting it.” “Your system?” “Yeah.” Birgitta looked at the road ahead. “It's not complicated.” “No.” “It just has a lot of rules.” “They aren't rules.” “They're absolutely rules.” “They're habits.” “Rules you've forgotten are rules.” Panam thought about that. “Maybe.” Birgitta looked at the route again. “Contact window?” “Anytime before sixteen hundred.” “We're early.” “Yeah.” “So why two hours?” “Because I'm not taking the direct road.” Birgitta turned. “Why?” “Construction.” “The route feed says clear.” “The route feed is wrong.” “How do you know?” “I drove it four days ago.” “Could be finished.” “It isn't.” “You know that how?” Panam pointed ahead. “Truck coming the other way?” Birgitta looked. A heavy transport approached. “Yeah.” “Look at the lower panels.” Birgitta watched as it passed. Mud. Pale grey. Fresh. “Construction access.” “Yep.” Birgitta looked at Panam. Panam smiled. “Route feed doesn't know everything.” “So we take?” “Old highway for thirty kilometers. Adds twelve minutes.” “Instead of?” “Potentially forty.” Birgitta nodded. “Your system.” “Our system.” Silence. Panam kept driving. Birgitta slowly turned her head. Panam's expression changed. She had heard herself. Birgitta said nothing. Panam looked at the road with extraordinary concentration. Birgitta waited. Five seconds. Ten. Panam finally glanced at her. “What?” Birgitta smiled. “Nothing.” Panam narrowed her eyes. “You're doing it again.” “Doing what?” “That face.” “What face?” Panam looked forward. “Forget it.” Birgitta let another few seconds pass. Then: “Our system?” Panam sighed. “Don't make it weird.” “I wasn't.” “You were about to.” “No.” “Yes.” Birgitta reached across. Put her hand on Panam's thigh. Panam looked down briefly. Birgitta's voice softened. “I like it.” Panam went quiet. Birgitta didn't push. The road rolled beneath them. Panam's hand left the wheel for a moment and covered Birgitta's. “Our system,” she said again. This time deliberately. Birgitta smiled. “Yeah.” Panam returned her hand to the wheel. Nothing else needed saying. --- An hour later, Panam said: “You hungry?” “Not yet.” “Tell me before you are.” Birgitta looked over. “What?” “Don't wait until you're starving.” “I know how food works.” “I'm serious.” “So am I.” Panam glanced at her. Birgitta understood. This wasn't mothering. It was logistics. Panam didn't wait for fuel to become urgent. Didn't wait for water to run out. Didn't wait for a loose seal to fall off. Didn't wait for hunger to become exhaustion. Birgitta looked ahead. “You don't plan for things to go right.” Panam smiled faintly. “No.” “You plan so it doesn't matter very much when they go wrong.” Panam looked at her. There. Birgitta had found it. The sentence underneath all the smaller rules. Panam nodded. “Exactly.” Birgitta smiled. “I like that.” “Yeah?” “Yeah.” Panam drove for another minute. Then: “You're good at this.” “Courier work?” Panam considered. “Being beside me while I do it.” Birgitta looked at her. Panam's attention remained on the road. Birgitta felt something warm settle quietly behind her ribs. She didn't make it bigger. Instead she reached across and took Panam's free hand. Panam gave it willingly. Their fingers linked. Birgitta kissed the back of Panam's hand. Then rested their joined hands against her thigh. Panam smiled. They drove like that until the road demanded both hands again. --- The next contact went smoothly. That worried Panam less this time. Progress. They were back on the road by mid-afternoon. Birgitta knew where the route notes belonged. She knew which bottle was Panam's. She knew which food Panam intended for today and which was reserve. She knew the fuel threshold. She knew Panam wanted the next contact messaged, not called. She knew that if Panam said they had twenty minutes of margin, that did not mean they had twenty minutes available to waste. It meant Panam had already assigned those minutes to something that hadn't gone wrong yet. Birgitta liked that. More than that, she liked being included in it. Panam handed her a water bottle. Birgitta drank. Then held it toward Panam. Panam drank without taking it from her hand. Birgitta's eyebrows rose. Panam swallowed. “What?” “Nothing.” Panam smiled. Birgitta put the bottle away. Exactly where it belonged. Panam looked at the road. “Next stop, I'll pay.” “For what?” “Food.” “I can buy my own food.” “I know.” Birgitta waited. Panam's mouth twitched. “Maybe later.” Birgitta turned slowly. Panam was already smiling. “Oh.” “What?” “You did that deliberately.” “Did what?” “Later.” Panam looked innocent. Birgitta stared at her. Panam's smile grew. “I have no idea what you mean.” “You're learning dangerous habits.” “Our system.” Birgitta laughed. “You bitch.” Panam reached across and squeezed her thigh. “Later.” Birgitta covered Panam's hand. “All right.” Panam glanced at her. Birgitta smiled. “But I'm keeping track.” For the first time all day, Panam actually looked nervous. Birgitta laughed. The truck kept moving south. --- ## Chapter 12 — No Signal The first sign was music. It stopped. Not dramatically. One moment something guitar-heavy was playing quietly through the truck. The next there was silence. Birgitta looked at the display. “No signal.” Panam glanced at it. “Yeah.” “You knew?” “About five kilometers ago.” Birgitta looked at her. “And you didn't warn me?” “About what?” “The collapse of civilization.” Panam smiled. “You'll survive.” “My agent is useless.” “Terrifying.” “What if somebody needs me?” “They can wait.” Birgitta looked down at the signal indicator. Nothing. No Night City. No messages. No background traffic from a dozen networks insisting something somewhere required attention. She put the agent face down. “Huh.” Panam glanced over. “What?” “Nothing.” “Bullshit.” Birgitta smiled. “Quiet.” Panam looked at the road. “Yeah.” The truck continued south. --- The landscape opened around them. Not empty. Birgitta had spent enough time outside Night City to know better than to call the Badlands empty. There were roads. Tracks. Old infrastructure. Power lines. Abandoned structures. Working structures that looked abandoned until someone shot at you for assuming. Dust. Rock. Heat. Distance. The city taught the eye to expect something every few meters. Out here, things had room around them. Panam seemed to change with it. Again, not dramatically. Her shoulders sat differently. Her eyes moved farther. She checked mirrors less like someone watching traffic and more like someone maintaining awareness of a much larger piece of ground. Birgitta watched her for a while. Panam noticed. “What?” “You like it out here.” “Yes.” No hesitation. Birgitta smiled. “That was easy.” “You asked an easy question.” “Should I try a difficult one?” “No.” Birgitta laughed. Panam reached over and squeezed her thigh. “Behave.” “No.” “Worth a try.” Birgitta rested her hand over Panam's. They drove like that until the road narrowed. Panam took her hand back. Birgitta let her. --- Twenty minutes passed without conversation. Birgitta discovered she didn't mind. She watched the road. The horizon. Panam. Occasionally the route display. Nothing required filling. Then Panam said: “Truck needs a name.” Birgitta turned. “What?” Panam's face remained perfectly serious. “You've been staring at it for two days.” “I have not been staring at the truck.” “You judge everything.” “That isn't staring.” “You judged the coffee machine.” “It attacked you.” “You judged the motel.” “It deserved it.” “You judged my route notes.” “They have an unnecessarily specific pocket.” Panam smiled. “So?” “So what?” “Name.” Birgitta looked around the cab. “No.” “Why?” “Because this is a truck.” “Exactly.” “That does not explain anything.” Panam tapped the wheel. “She works hard.” Birgitta slowly looked at her. “She?” “Don't start.” “You already have a gender but no name.” “Yes.” “This is more advanced than I expected.” “Name.” Birgitta considered. “No.” “Coward.” “I refuse to take responsibility.” “Why?” “Because you'll hate every suggestion.” “I won't.” Birgitta looked around again. “Gertrude.” “No.” “See?” “That's terrible.” “You said you wouldn't hate it.” “I lied.” “Fine. Princess.” “Absolutely fucking not.” “Helga.” “No.” “Steve.” Panam's head snapped toward her. “No.” Birgitta blinked. That had been unusually emphatic. She smiled. “Interesting.” “Not Steve.” “What?” “Nothing.” “No.” Panam looked ahead. Birgitta waited. Panam remained silent. Birgitta leaned slightly closer. “Panam.” “No.” “Who is Steve?” “Later.” Birgitta smiled. “Oh.” “Don't.” “You used the word.” “I know.” “You owe me.” “I owe you nothing.” Birgitta put her hand on Panam's thigh. Panam looked down. Then at her. “Nothing?” Panam's mouth twitched. “Drive support.” “That's not an answer.” “Exactly.” Birgitta laughed. The truck remained nameless. --- The signal did not return. Eventually Birgitta stopped checking. That surprised her more than losing it had. Panam reached behind her. “Food.” Birgitta looked at the package Panam held out. “You're feeding me.” “You said you weren't hungry forty minutes ago.” “I wasn't.” “You are now.” “How do you know?” Panam looked at her. “You've started staring at the food compartment.” Birgitta accepted the package. “Disturbing.” “Our system.” There it was again. This time Panam didn't stumble over it. Birgitta opened the package. “Your system is becoming intrusive.” “Our system.” Birgitta looked over. Panam smiled. Birgitta felt herself smile back. “Fine.” She took a bite. Then held it toward Panam. Panam leaned over enough to take one without touching it. Birgitta watched her. Panam chewed. “What?” “Nothing.” “Bullshit.” “You could have taken it.” “My hands are busy.” “One hand is busy.” “The other might need to become busy.” Birgitta's eyebrows rose. Panam realized. “Driving.” “Of course.” “Fuck you.” “Later.” Panam laughed. The word had stopped making either of them flinch. Now it simply sat between them like a promise nobody needed to schedule. --- The conversation started again somewhere after noon. Birgitta couldn't later remember why. One moment they were discussing whether the truck deserved a name. The next Panam said: “Do you miss the city?” Birgitta looked out the window. “Sometimes.” “You're from there?” Careful. Not dangerous. Just careful. “I've lived there long enough.” Panam accepted that. “What do you miss?” Birgitta thought. “Food.” Panam laughed. “Seriously?” “Yes.” “You've been gone two days.” “And?” “You're spoiled.” “I've established this.” “What else?” Birgitta watched the landscape. “People.” “Specific people?” “Yes.” Panam waited. Birgitta appreciated that she didn't ask who. “Some more than others.” “Yeah.” “You?” Panam shrugged. “Depends where I am.” “That wasn't an answer.” “It was.” “No.” Panam smiled. Birgitta waited. Finally: “Sera.” Birgitta looked at her. Panam kept her eyes on the road. There was no awkwardness in the name. There shouldn't be. Birgitta knew Sera. Had known her before she knew Panam like this. And Panam's relationship with Sera was not something that had to shrink to make room for Birgitta. “You miss her.” “Yeah.” “Tell her.” “I do.” “When signal returns.” “Yeah.” Birgitta smiled. “She'll be insufferable.” Panam laughed. “She usually is.” “I like her.” “I know.” That carried history. Their first booking. Sera and Panam together. Birgitta between and around them. No need to unpack it here. It simply existed. Panam glanced over. “You?” “What?” “You said people.” Birgitta looked out the window again. There were several answers she could safely give. And several she couldn't. “Lena.” Panam nodded immediately. “Yeah.” “You know her.” “Of course.” “She made these.” Birgitta indicated the trousers. Panam looked. Long enough. Birgitta waited. Panam looked back at the road. “Excellent work.” “Functional?” “Extremely.” Birgitta smiled. “Thought so.” “Who else?” Birgitta considered. There were people Birgitta knew. People Reyes knew. People both identities could safely overlap around. The map was complicated only if she became careless. “Victor.” Panam smiled. “He's good.” “He's annoying.” “Also good.” “Apparently everyone is on his side.” “Maybe you're wrong.” Birgitta gasped. Panam laughed. Birgitta looked out at the road again. “And some people I don't get to talk about.” Panam's laughter faded. Not into suspicion. Understanding. “Work?” “Sometimes.” “Okay.” Nothing else. No push. Birgitta looked at her. Panam caught it. “What?” “You're easy to travel with.” Panam almost laughed. “Me?” “Yes.” “You have terrible judgment.” “Possibly.” “You've seen me yell at two clients.” “One deserved it.” “Both deserved it.” “Fair.” “I nearly fought a coffee machine.” “It started it.” Panam smiled. Birgitta continued. “You don't ask questions after I tell you where the edge is.” Panam's expression changed. A little more serious. “No.” “Thank you.” Panam looked at her. Then back at the road. “Yeah.” Birgitta's hand found Panam's thigh. Panam covered it briefly. That was enough. --- An hour later, they were discussing socks. Birgitta blamed Panam. “You put it under the pillow.” “I did not.” “It was your sock.” “That proves nothing.” “It was under your pillow.” “That also proves nothing.” “Whose pillow should it have been under?” “I don't know.” “Exactly.” Birgitta laughed. Panam pointed at her. “You were closer to that side of the bed when we—” She stopped. Birgitta waited. Panam looked at the road. “When we what?” “Nothing.” “Oh, no.” “Birgitta.” “When we what, Panam?” Panam sighed. “When we started.” Birgitta smiled slowly. “Started what?” “You know.” “I want to hear you say it.” “No.” “Coward.” Panam looked over. “We had sex.” Birgitta nodded. “Yes, we did.” “Happy?” “Very.” Panam shook her head. “You're twelve.” “I'm not the one hiding socks in bed.” “I didn't hide the fucking sock.” Birgitta laughed until her stomach hurt. Panam tried to stay annoyed. Failed. Within seconds she was laughing too. The truck rolled through the Badlands carrying two women arguing about a sock nobody could explain. Birgitta thought, unexpectedly: I could get used to this. She didn't say it. Not because it frightened her. Because it didn't need saying. --- The signal flickered back briefly. Both agents vibrated at once. Birgitta looked at hers. Messages arrived in a burst. Nothing urgent. Panam checked hers at the next safe stretch. Sera. Of course. Panam smiled before opening it. Birgitta saw. “Tell her.” “I will.” “Now.” “Bossy.” “Yes.” Panam used voice. “Signal's shit. We're fine. Road's good. Birgitta hasn't murdered me yet.” Birgitta leaned toward the agent. “Yet.” Panam pushed her away with one hand. Birgitta laughed. Panam sent the message. Thirty seconds later the signal vanished again. “Did it send?” “Yeah.” “Good.” Panam put the agent down. Birgitta looked at her. “You smiled.” “What?” “When you saw her message.” “So?” “Nothing.” Panam glanced sideways. Birgitta smiled. “It's nice.” Panam's expression softened. “Yeah.” Then the road took their attention again. --- By late afternoon, the world had narrowed. Truck. Road. Heat. Water. Food. Route. Panam. No constant messages. No city. No other voices. Birgitta had one boot resting lightly against the lower edge of the dash until Panam slapped her thigh. “Feet down.” “Why?” “Because if I brake hard, your knee goes through your face.” Birgitta lowered her foot. “Romantic.” “Alive is romantic.” “Debatable.” Panam gave her a look. Birgitta smiled. A few minutes later she shifted sideways in the seat. Her shoulder settled against Panam's upper arm. Panam adjusted without comment. Birgitta stayed there. The road was straight. Nothing coming. Nothing behind them. Panam's hand left the wheel. Rested on Birgitta's thigh. Birgitta covered it. They drove in silence. Eventually Panam said: “You're getting good at this.” Birgitta didn't move. “Courier work?” A pause. “Being here.” Birgitta looked up. Panam's eyes remained on the road. No defensive joke. No retreat. Just the sentence. Birgitta considered several answers. Discarded all of them. “I like being here.” Panam's fingers tightened gently against her thigh. “Good.” That was it. No relationship conversation. No definition. No question about what happened after the week. The road continued. Birgitta leaned against her again. Panam's hand stayed where it was. --- They regained stable signal near evening. Night City rushed back into their agents as though offended by having been ignored. Birgitta looked at the accumulated notifications. Then turned the display off. Panam noticed. “Nothing important?” “Nothing that can't wait.” Panam nodded. The next delivery was tomorrow. They had a motel marked ahead. Nothing special. Probably one bed. Birgitta found herself hoping the shower was larger. She looked at Panam. Panam caught it. “What?” “Do you know the motel?” “A little.” “Shower?” Panam laughed. “I don't remember.” “Useless.” “Sorry.” “You should maintain records.” “Of shower dimensions?” “Yes.” “Anything else?” Birgitta considered. “Bed quality.” “Okay.” “Coffee proximity.” “Reasonable.” “Wall thickness.” Panam looked over. Birgitta smiled. Panam's eyebrows rose. “Oh.” “What?” “Nothing.” “Bullshit.” Panam laughed. “Now I understand the shower database.” Birgitta put her hand on Panam's thigh. “Drive.” “Yes, boss.” --- The motel shower was not large. It was not criminal either. Birgitta considered that acceptable. The room had one bed. Panam didn't ask this time. Neither did Birgitta. They ate. Checked tomorrow. Put their boots beside each other near the door. Panam's clothes went onto the chair. Birgitta's beside them. Their bags found their places. Routine already. Later, Birgitta came out of the shower and found Panam stretched across the bed reading route notes. She walked over. Took the notes gently from Panam's hand. Put them on the table. Panam looked up. “Hey.” “Work done?” “Mostly.” Birgitta climbed onto the bed. Panam smiled. “That isn't an answer.” Birgitta kissed her. Panam's hand slid immediately around her waist. The second kiss lasted longer. No buildup required. No scene needed to prove anything. Panam rolled toward her. Birgitta laughed softly against her mouth. “Wall thickness.” Panam stopped. Listened. Birgitta listened too. Silence. Panam looked at her. “Good enough.” Birgitta laughed. “Excellent system.” “Our system.” Then Panam kissed her again. --- Much later, the room was dark. Birgitta lay on her side. Panam behind her. One arm around her waist. Familiar already. Birgitta's hand rested over Panam's. Tomorrow there would be roads. Clients. Fuel. Food. Probably something inconvenient. Maybe something stupid. Tonight there was no signal problem. Her agent could reach the entire city again. Birgitta didn't touch it. Panam shifted closer in her sleep. Birgitta smiled into the darkness. For most of the day, Night City had been unable to reach them. Nothing had happened. Nothing important. And somehow that had made the day feel full. Birgitta closed her eyes. Tomorrow they would keep going. --- ## Chapter 13 — Bad Route Kiro found out on Wednesday morning. Not because anybody told her. Because she asked. She was standing in the Safehouse kitchen with a mug of coffee in one hand and an expression suggesting the coffee had personally failed to meet contractual obligations. Mai was at the counter. Shammy sat at the table sketching. Ace was eating something that probably had an owner. Kiro looked around. “Where's Reyes?” Ace answered first. “Working.” Kiro looked at her. “That was suspiciously normal.” “I can be normal.” Mai turned. “No.” Ace looked offended. Shammy kept drawing. Kiro took another drink. “What kind of work?” “Escort contract,” Mai said. Kiro nodded. Then: “Long?” Mai glanced toward Ace. Ace shrugged. “Little over a week.” Kiro stopped with the mug halfway to her mouth. “A week?” Ace looked at her. “Yes.” Kiro lowered the mug. “She didn't mention that.” Mai smiled faintly. “She may have forgotten.” Kiro stared. “Reyes.” “Yes.” “Forgot to mention she'd be gone for more than a week.” Ace leaned back. “Apparently.” Kiro considered this. Not suspiciously. Just with the mild annoyance of someone discovering that a person she knew had omitted a useful scheduling detail. “When did she leave?” “Tuesday.” Kiro looked at the coffee. Then at Mai. “Good contract?” “That was apparently the description.” Ace smiled. “Boring escort.” Kiro's eyes moved to her. “She actually said boring?” “Yes.” “That means absolutely nothing.” “Correct.” Shammy's mouth moved. Barely. Kiro caught it. “What?” Shammy looked innocent. Ace pointed immediately. “Face thing.” Shammy looked at her. “You did it.” “I did nothing.” “Your face did.” Kiro drank her coffee. “So she's fine?” Mai nodded. “No reason to think otherwise.” “Okay.” That was enough. Kiro reached for the coffee pot. Found it empty. Looked at Ace. Ace froze. Kiro looked at Ace's cup. Ace slowly put both hands around it. “No.” “That is my coffee.” “It was unattended.” “It was in the pot.” “Exactly.” Kiro stared at her. Ace took a protective sip. Mai closed her eyes. Shammy kept drawing. The Safehouse morning continued. --- Two hundred and some kilometers away, the road ceased to exist. Panam stopped the truck. Birgitta looked through the windshield. “Huh.” Panam said nothing. Ahead of them, the route display showed a road. Reality showed dirt, broken asphalt, a barricade lying on its side and a section of ground that appeared to have been introduced violently to heavy equipment. Birgitta looked at the display. Then outside. Then back. “That's ambitious.” Panam leaned forward. “Fuck.” “Recent?” “Has to be.” She pulled up the route feed. According to the system, everything ahead was perfectly usable. Birgitta looked through the windshield again. “The route feed remains optimistic.” Panam zoomed the map out. “Shit.” “How bad?” “Depends.” Panam traced north. “If we go back and take the proper detour…” Birgitta followed. “That is not a small detour.” “No.” “How long?” “Three hours.” She studied it. “Maybe four.” Birgitta whistled softly. “And the other option?” Panam didn't answer immediately. That was informative. Birgitta leaned closer. Panam brought up an older map layer. A narrow line appeared. “Service road.” “Still exists?” “Probably.” Birgitta looked through the windshield. “You sound confident.” “I haven't used it in years.” “Better.” “It used to connect back south of this.” “Used to.” “Yeah.” “Maintained?” “No.” “Of course not.” Panam looked at her. Birgitta smiled. “Our system.” Panam laughed once. “Right now our system says don't be stupid.” “Which option is stupid?” “That's what I'm deciding.” Panam shut the engine down. “Come on.” --- They walked. Not far. Enough. Panam wanted to see whether the old service road still separated from the destroyed section where the map claimed it did. Birgitta came with her. No discussion. The morning was already warm. Dust moved around their boots. The truck sat behind them with the cargo secured. Panam found the old turn. Barely. A track disappeared between broken concrete and scrub. Birgitta stopped. “This?” “Yeah.” “You're sure?” “No.” “Excellent.” Panam walked farther. Birgitta followed. The first hundred meters were ugly but passable. Then the track dropped. Panam stopped at the top. Birgitta came beside her. Below them, the old service road descended along the side of a dry cut before bending out of sight. The surface was loose. Narrow. One side had eroded. Panam stared at it. Birgitta stared too. “You can drive that.” Panam looked at her. “That wasn't a question.” “No.” “You sure?” Birgitta crouched and looked at the surface. “Probably.” “Probably.” Birgitta smiled. “You started it.” Panam crouched beside her. “The descent isn't the problem.” “No.” “Turn after it might be.” “Can't see it.” “Exactly.” Birgitta stood. “I'll walk it.” Panam immediately said: “No.” Birgitta looked at her. Panam reconsidered. Not because Birgitta challenged her. Because the automatic response had been protective rather than practical. Birgitta waited. Panam sighed. “Together.” “Fine.” They walked. --- The turn was bad. Not impossible. Bad. The service road narrowed around exposed rock before flattening farther down. Birgitta studied the tire marks. Old. Some newer. “Someone uses it.” Panam nodded. “Smaller vehicles.” “Mostly.” Panam looked uphill toward where the truck waited out of sight. “We can do it.” Birgitta smiled. “There.” “What?” “You decided.” “Yeah.” “Need me outside?” Panam looked at the turn again. “For the descent.” “Spotting.” “Yeah.” “Then I get back in?” “If this section stays like this.” Birgitta nodded. No drama. No proving herself. A job. They walked back. At the truck, Panam opened the cargo area. Birgitta was already beside her. They checked everything. Every strap. Every anchor. Every seal. Panam pulled one strap tighter. Birgitta checked the opposite side. “Good.” Panam looked at her work. Then at Birgitta's. “Good.” They closed it. Panam looked down the old road. “Still want the northern detour?” Birgitta leaned against the truck. “Do you?” “No.” “Then no.” Panam smiled. “Some merc work.” Birgitta pointed at her. “You're becoming annoying.” “Becoming?” “Fair.” Panam caught Birgitta lightly by the waist as she passed. Pulled her in. Kissed her. Quick. “Stay where I can see you.” Birgitta rested her hands on Panam's hips. “Bossy.” “Yes.” “I like it.” “I know.” Another kiss. Then work. --- Panam brought the truck to the edge of the descent. Birgitta stood outside where Panam could see her. She checked the wheel line. Ground. Clearance. Panam lowered the window. “Good?” “Your left first.” Panam adjusted. “More.” The truck moved centimeters. “Good.” Panam stopped. Birgitta walked farther down. Looked back. “Straight.” The truck began descending. Slow. Very slow. Birgitta watched the front wheel. Then rear. The loose surface shifted. “Stop.” Panam stopped immediately. Birgitta walked closer. A section near the rear wheel had crumbled enough to change the line. She pointed. “Come right.” “How much?” Birgitta held up two fingers. Panam adjusted. “Good.” The truck moved. Birgitta walked backward. Eyes moving. Wheel. Ground. Clearance. Panam. The road. “Keep it.” Panam kept it. “Slow.” “I am slow.” “Slower.” Panam gave her a look through the windshield. Birgitta smiled. Panam went slower. The truck reached the bottom. Birgitta walked around the front. Panam opened the passenger door. “Get in.” Birgitta climbed up. Panam waited until the door was closed. “You enjoy telling me how to drive.” “I enjoy being obeyed.” Panam stared at her. Birgitta smiled. “Road.” “Right.” Panam drove. --- The next kilometer was merely unpleasant. Birgitta kept watching the passenger side. Panam handled the truck. They didn't need much conversation. “Clear.” “Rock.” “I see it.” “More left.” “Got it.” Then the road climbed slightly and widened. Birgitta exhaled. Panam did too. Neither had realized they were holding tension. “Not bad,” Birgitta said. Panam laughed. “We're not through yet.” “I know.” The service road curved. Then disappeared around a low ridge. Panam slowed. Birgitta leaned forward. “What's that?” “I don't know.” They rounded it. Stopped. Birgitta stared. A washout had taken half the road. Not the entire road. Half. Panam rested her forehead briefly against the steering wheel. Birgitta looked at her. “North?” “Fuck north.” Birgitta laughed. Panam lifted her head. “You think that's funny?” “A little.” “We could still turn around.” “We could.” Panam looked at the remaining road. Birgitta did too. Enough width. Probably. The inside edge was solid rock. The outside edge was not something Birgitta wanted to discuss philosophically. Panam looked at her. “I need you outside again.” “Yeah.” “Check the edge before I move.” “Yeah.” “If you don't like it, we turn around.” Birgitta looked at her. “No argument?” “No.” “Good.” Panam caught her wrist before she opened the door. Birgitta looked down. Then at her. “Careful.” Birgitta smiled. “You too.” Panam released her. --- The edge held. Birgitta checked it twice. Then a third time farther ahead. She found the line. Walked back into Panam's view. She held up a hand. Panam waited. Birgitta pointed toward the rock side. Panam moved. Slowly. Birgitta walked backward beside the truck. The gap on the outer side narrowed. “Left.” Panam corrected. “More.” Another correction. “Hold.” The truck moved. Birgitta watched the rear wheel. Fine. Still fine. “Keep coming.” Panam's face was completely focused. Birgitta felt the strange rush begin somewhere beneath her ribs. Not fear. Attention. Everything narrowing into simple pieces. Ground. Wheel. Truck. Panam. “Good.” The rear cleared the worst section. Birgitta moved farther. “Straight.” Panam drove. Then the whole truck was past. Birgitta raised both hands. Clear. Panam stopped twenty meters ahead. Birgitta walked toward the passenger side. Then stopped. Looked back. The washout behind them suddenly looked considerably worse. She laughed. Panam leaned across and opened the door. “What?” Birgitta climbed in. “That was fun.” Panam stared at her. “You're insane.” “Probably.” “I was six inches from deciding to reverse.” “But you didn't.” “No.” “You knew the line.” “You gave me the line.” Birgitta closed the door. Panam looked at her. Birgitta looked back. For one second neither spoke. Then Panam laughed. “Okay.” “What?” “That was a little fun.” “A little?” “Don't push it.” Birgitta smiled. Panam put the truck into gear. “Our system.” “Our system.” They kept going. --- The old service road rejoined usable pavement forty-three minutes later. Panam pulled onto it. Stopped. Neither spoke. Panam set the brake. Birgitta looked at her. “Truck?” “Check.” They got out. Again. No celebration first. Work first. Tires. Underside. Suspension. Cargo. Straps. Seals. Everything still where it belonged. Birgitta closed the cargo door. Panam stood beside her. “Fine.” “Fine.” Panam looked back toward the service road. Birgitta followed her gaze. “Three hours saved.” “Maybe more.” “Worth it?” Panam looked at the truck. Then at Birgitta. “Yeah.” Birgitta smiled. Panam narrowed her eyes. “What?” “Nothing.” “Bullshit.” Birgitta stepped closer. “That was fun.” “You said that.” “You're hot.” Panam stopped. Birgitta smiled. Panam's eyebrows rose. “What?” “You heard me.” Panam looked at her. Then down the empty road. Then back. Birgitta caught the front of her jacket. “Come here.” Panam did. Immediately. The kiss hit harder than the others that day. Not desperate. Not frightened. Adrenaline still moving beneath both skins. Panam's hands found Birgitta's waist and pulled her close. Birgitta's arms went around Panam's neck. Panam kissed her again. Birgitta laughed softly against her mouth. “What?” “Nothing.” Panam kissed her harder. Birgitta's back touched the side of the truck. Warm metal through her jacket. Panam's body close. Birgitta's fingers slid into her hair. Then Panam stopped. Forehead against Birgitta's. Both breathing a little faster. “We're working.” Birgitta smiled. “Yes.” Panam kissed her once more. Short. “Later.” Birgitta laughed. “There it is.” Panam stepped back. Birgitta caught her belt. Panam looked down. “Birgitta.” “One more.” Panam smiled. “One.” Birgitta kissed her. Then released her. “Good.” Panam shook her head. “Impossible.” “You like me.” “Unfortunately.” They climbed back into the truck. --- Five minutes later Panam said: “How much merc work?” Birgitta looked at her. Not suspicious. Not alarmed. Just a woman who had watched Birgitta calmly spot a truck through a damaged service road. Birgitta smiled. “Enough.” Panam laughed. “Fuck you.” “You keep offering.” “I am going to regret teaching you that.” “You didn't.” “True.” Panam reached across. Her hand landed on Birgitta's thigh. Birgitta covered it. Panam looked ahead. “Seriously.” Birgitta waited. “You're good.” There was no question attached. Birgitta squeezed her hand. “So are you.” Panam's thumb moved against her thigh. “Yeah.” Birgitta laughed. “Confidence.” “Accuracy.” The truck continued south. Cargo intact. Truck intact. Schedule recovered. No mysterious connection. No cover problem. Just work. And one old road Panam hadn't driven in years. Birgitta looked out at the Badlands. Then at Panam. “I'd do that again.” Panam looked horrified. “No.” “Why?” “Because next time we're taking north.” “Coward.” “Alive.” “Romantic.” Panam smiled. “Exactly.” Birgitta leaned over and kissed her cheek. Panam's hand squeezed her thigh. They kept driving. Behind them, the old service road disappeared around the ridge. Ahead, the schedule had stopped being a problem. For now. Birgitta settled back into her seat. Dust covered her boots. There was dirt on her jacket. Her pulse had finally returned to normal. Mostly. Panam glanced at her. “You're still smiling.” “Yes.” “Why?” Birgitta looked at her. “Because that was fun.” Panam groaned. Birgitta laughed. And the truck carried them on. --- ## Chapter 14 — Dust The dust survived everything. Closed windows. Air filters. Jackets. Distance. Apparently reality. Birgitta discovered some inside her collar forty minutes after they left the service road. She pulled at the fabric. Panam glanced over. “What?” “Your road is inside my shirt.” Panam laughed. “Not my road.” “You chose it.” “You agreed.” “I was young and reckless.” “That was forty minutes ago.” “I've grown.” Panam looked at her. Birgitta looked back. Panam shook her head. “Impossible.” Birgitta rubbed at her neck. Her fingers came away pale with dust. “Oh, for fuck's sake.” Panam smiled. “You still look good.” Birgitta slowly turned. “Still?” Panam immediately recognized the trap. “Yes.” “Interesting word.” “Birgitta.” “Suggests there was some possibility I wouldn't.” “No.” “Yet you felt compelled to reassure me.” “I was being nice.” “Dangerous.” Panam laughed. Birgitta looked down at the trousers. Dust along both legs. Boots thoroughly coated. Jacket worse. She imagined Lena seeing them. “She'll kill me.” “Who?” “Lena.” Panam glanced at the clothes. “She made them for road work.” “Yes.” “So?” “She made them for road work with standards.” Panam laughed. “You think she expected them to stay clean?” “No.” “Then you're fine.” Birgitta looked at the dust again. “She'll still judge me.” “Probably.” “Thank you.” “Anytime.” Birgitta settled back. Panam reached across. Her hand landed on Birgitta's thigh. Then rubbed once. A pale streak appeared across the dark fabric. Birgitta stared at it. Panam looked down. “Oh.” Birgitta turned slowly. Panam withdrew her hand. “That was already there.” “No.” “Pretty sure.” “Panam.” “Road.” Birgitta stared. Panam lasted three seconds before laughing. Birgitta laughed too. “You bitch.” “Still look good.” “That won't save you.” “Worth trying.” --- They stopped less than an hour later. Not because of the truck. Not because of cargo. Because Panam looked at Birgitta and said: “Move.” Birgitta blinked. “What?” “We've been sitting too long.” Birgitta checked the time. “You planned this.” “Yes.” “Our system.” Panam smiled. “Our system.” The stop was nothing. A widened section beside the road. No building. No fuel. No vending machine. Just enough flat ground to get safely away from traffic. Panam parked. They got out. Birgitta stretched. Her back approved immediately. Panam walked around the truck. Not a full inspection. Habit. Eyes over tires. Cargo doors. Ground. Then she came back carrying two bottles of water. Birgitta took one. “Drink.” “Yes, boss.” Panam opened hers. Birgitta drank. The water was warm. She didn't care. A breeze moved across the road and immediately put more dust onto both of them. Birgitta closed her eyes. “You have got to be fucking kidding me.” Panam laughed. “What?” “More.” “It's the Badlands.” “I noticed.” Birgitta wiped at her cheek. Panam caught her wrist. “Wait.” “What?” Panam stepped closer. Her thumb moved across Birgitta's cheekbone. Then again. Birgitta watched her. Panam frowned with concentration. “Got it.” Birgitta touched the same place. “Dust?” “Yeah.” She looked at Panam. There was a pale streak along Panam's jaw. Birgitta smiled. “What?” “Hold still.” Panam did. Birgitta wiped the streak with her thumb. It mostly moved. Not disappeared. She tried again. Panam's eyes stayed on hers. Birgitta's hand slowed. The practical gesture became something else without either woman deciding when. Birgitta's thumb rested against Panam's cheek. Panam turned her head. Kissed the inside of Birgitta's wrist. Birgitta smiled. “You're filthy.” “So are you.” “Rude.” “Accurate.” Birgitta stepped closer. Panam's free hand settled at her waist. Birgitta kissed her. Briefly. Then again. Panam tasted like coffee. Heat. Dust. Birgitta pulled back. Panam looked at her. Birgitta frowned thoughtfully. “You taste like road.” Panam stared. “What the fuck does road taste like?” Birgitta considered. Then smiled. “You.” Panam stared for another second. “That's a terrible answer.” “You liked it.” “No.” Birgitta kissed her again. Panam's arm tightened around her waist. When they separated, Panam was smiling. Birgitta raised an eyebrow. “No?” “Shut up.” Birgitta laughed. --- They walked for five minutes. Not far. Enough to get blood moving again. Panam rolled her shoulders. Birgitta stretched her legs. When they returned to the truck, Panam reached for the driver's door. Birgitta caught the back of her jacket. Panam turned. “What?” “Food.” Panam blinked. Then checked the time. “Huh.” Birgitta smiled. “What?” “You caught it first.” “Our system.” Panam looked pleased. “Yeah.” Birgitta opened the food compartment. Panam leaned against the truck. “What do we have?” Birgitta inspected. “Things.” Panam stared. Birgitta smiled. “Things that need to be there.” “Fuck you.” Birgitta laughed. She handed Panam a package. Took another for herself. Panam opened hers. Birgitta watched. “What?” “Nothing.” Panam pointed at her. “Don't steal it.” “I wasn't going to.” “Bullshit.” Birgitta opened her own. They ate leaning against the truck. Birgitta finished half before realizing Panam was watching her. “What?” “You were hungry.” “Yes.” “You said you weren't.” “An hour ago.” Panam smiled. “Good.” Birgitta understood. Panam hadn't been checking whether she was wrong. She'd been checking whether Birgitta had learned not to wait too long. Birgitta bumped her shoulder against Panam's. “Your turn.” “For?” “Water.” “I already drank.” “Not enough.” Panam looked at her. Birgitta held out the bottle. Panam smiled. “Our system is becoming bossy.” “Our system learned from you.” Panam took the bottle. Drank. Handed it back. “Happy?” “Yes.” Birgitta kissed her cheek. “Very.” --- The rest of the afternoon was easier. No missing roads. No loose seals. No clients discovering new definitions of time. The truck worked. The cargo stayed where it belonged. The schedule behaved. Birgitta almost distrusted it. They made one delivery. Picked up another smaller load for morning. Panam handled the contacts. Birgitta handled what Panam handed her. Sometimes before Panam handed it to her. At the second stop, Panam said: “Can you check—” “Already did.” Panam stopped. Birgitta held up the confirmation. Panam looked at it. Then at her. “Okay.” Birgitta smiled. “What?” “Nothing.” “That was definitely something.” Panam took the confirmation. “You're useful.” Birgitta put a hand over her heart. “Romance.” “I'm serious.” “So am I. That's practically poetry from you.” Panam laughed. “Get in the truck.” “Yes, boss.” Panam slapped Birgitta lightly on the ass as she passed. Birgitta stopped. Slowly looked back. Panam froze for half a second. Then lifted her chin. “What?” Birgitta smiled. “Nothing.” Panam's eyes narrowed. Birgitta climbed into the truck. She made Panam wait almost three minutes before resting a hand high on her thigh. Panam looked down. Birgitta looked innocently through the windshield. Panam laughed. “Payback?” “Nothing.” “Bullshit.” Birgitta smiled. --- By the time they reached the motel, both of them were tired. And dirty. Not dramatically. Not service-road-survivor dirty. Just road dirty. Dust had found every seam. Birgitta got out of the truck and stretched. Panam came around the front. Birgitta looked at her. Panam looked at Birgitta. “Shower.” “Yes.” “Food.” “Yes.” “Which first?” Birgitta considered. “Room.” Panam smiled. “Good answer.” The motel was slightly better than the first one. Not enough to inspire trust. Enough that the sign worked. Panam went inside. Birgitta waited by the truck. She checked the cargo seal while Panam handled the room. Still good. She walked around the truck. Nothing wrong. Panam came back carrying the access card. “One bed?” Birgitta asked. Panam stared at her. “What?” “Just checking.” “Yes.” “Deliberately?” Panam walked past her. “Get your bag.” Birgitta laughed. --- The room was clean. The bed looked acceptable. The bathroom door was closed. Birgitta put her bag down. Panam put hers beside it. Boots near the door. Jackets over the chair. Automatic now. Birgitta pulled off her jacket. Dust moved visibly. She stared. Panam stared too. “Oh.” “Lena is going to kill me.” “No.” “She may kill you.” “Why me?” Birgitta looked at the pale handprint still faintly visible on her thigh. Panam followed her gaze. Then smiled. “That could be anyone.” Birgitta stared. “Anyone.” “Road accident.” “Your fingers are visible.” “Circumstantial.” Birgitta stepped closer. Panam smiled. “Problem?” Birgitta took hold of Panam's shirt. “Several.” “Want to list them?” “No.” She kissed her. Panam's hands immediately found her waist. Birgitta backed her toward the bed. Panam laughed against her mouth. “Food?” “Later.” “Oh.” Birgitta kissed her again. Panam's hand slid beneath the back of Birgitta's shirt. Warm palm against dusty skin. Birgitta inhaled. Panam knew that reaction. Her smile changed. “Still mad about the trousers?” “Yes.” “Doesn't feel like it.” Birgitta pulled her closer. “Shut up.” Panam did. For a while. --- Nothing about it needed ceremony. No long anticipation. No question about where the evening was going. A kiss became several. Familiar hands found familiar places. Dusty clothes began disappearing because they needed to come off anyway and because neither woman had any interest in pretending that was the only reason. Panam paused once. Close. Her forehead against Birgitta's. “Okay?” Birgitta smiled. “Yes.” That was enough. They had sex without turning it into a ceremony. Birgitta's breath broke first into a short, startled laugh, and Panam's hand tightened at her waist in immediate recognition. Birgitta caught her before she could comment and kissed the smile off her mouth. The teasing thinned into breath, familiar pressure, and the easy attention of two people who already knew how to read each other. When it was over, neither moved immediately. Birgitta lay on her back. Panam half across her. Both breathing slowly. The room was quiet. Birgitta ran her fingers through Panam's hair. Panam's hand rested against her ribs. After a while Panam said: “We're still dirty.” Birgitta started laughing. Panam lifted her head. “What?” “Nothing.” “We are.” “I know.” “That didn't help.” “No.” Panam looked down at herself. Then at Birgitta. “You have dust on your shoulder.” “So do you.” “Probably everywhere.” Birgitta smiled. “Romantic.” “Road.” Birgitta kissed her. “You.” Panam groaned. “You're going to keep using that.” “Yes.” Panam dropped her head back onto Birgitta's chest. “Menace.” Birgitta closed her eyes. For another minute neither moved. Then Birgitta opened them. “Shower.” Panam made a protesting noise. “We need one.” “I know.” “Proper one.” Panam lifted her head. “Define proper.” Birgitta looked toward the bathroom. Then at Panam. “How big is it?” Panam blinked. “I don't know.” “You booked the room.” “I didn't inspect the fucking shower.” Birgitta stared. Panam stared back. “This is becoming important to you.” “Yes.” Panam sighed dramatically. Then pushed herself up. Birgitta watched her cross the room. Naked. Completely unconcerned. Panam opened the bathroom door. Disappeared inside. Birgitta heard the shower door move. Silence. Then: “Oh.” Birgitta sat up. “What?” More silence. Panam reappeared in the doorway. She looked at Birgitta. Birgitta waited. Panam slowly spread both arms wide. Birgitta's smile appeared. “Big one?” Panam smiled. “Big one.” Birgitta looked toward the bathroom. Then back at Panam. Panam leaned against the doorway. Neither moved for one long second. Birgitta got off the bed. Panam's smile widened. Birgitta walked toward her. “Finally.” Panam laughed. “What?” “Nothing.” Birgitta reached the doorway. Panam's hand settled at her waist. Birgitta looked past her into the bathroom. Large walk-in shower. Actually large. Enough room for two people without requiring a negotiated elbow treaty. Birgitta smiled. Panam kissed her cheek. “Happy?” Birgitta turned her head. Kissed Panam properly. “Very.” Panam's arms went around her. Birgitta let the kiss linger. Then she pulled back. “Tomorrow.” Panam blinked. “What?” Birgitta smiled. “I'm exhausted.” Panam stared. Then laughed. “You fucking menace.” Birgitta kissed the tip of her nose. “Shower.” “Together?” Birgitta looked inside again. Then at Panam. “No.” Panam's mouth fell open. Birgitta lasted perhaps two seconds. Then she laughed. Panam grabbed her. “You asshole.” Birgitta laughed harder as Panam pulled her into the bathroom. “Okay, okay—” “Too late.” “Panam—” “You did this.” Birgitta caught the shower frame. Still laughing. “Just shower.” Panam looked at her. Birgitta looked back. Both knew exactly how unreliable that promise was. Panam opened the shower door. “Fine.” Birgitta stepped inside. Panam followed. The door closed behind them. For tonight, washing the road away was enough. Probably. --- ## Chapter 15 — Big One The shower was genuinely large. Birgitta stood beneath the water and considered this an important victory. Panam stood behind her. “This is making you way too happy.” Birgitta tilted her head back into the spray. “You don't understand what I've suffered.” “You spent one night in a small shower.” “Two.” “The second one was normal.” “It was adequate.” Panam laughed. Birgitta turned. “And yesterday's was a crime.” “Fine.” “This is a shower.” “Yes.” “A proper shower.” “Yes.” “A big one.” Panam smiled. “A big one.” Birgitta nodded. “Good.” Panam reached past her for the soap. “Move.” Birgitta stared. “I fought for this.” “You did nothing.” “I believed.” “In what?” “Better plumbing.” Panam laughed and nudged her aside. Birgitta moved. Barely. They were both still dusty. Less than before. More than either wanted to be. The water hitting the shower floor ran faintly grey. Birgitta looked down. “Oh.” “Road.” Panam's voice came from behind her. Birgitta turned her head. “You.” “Don't start.” Birgitta smiled. Panam handed her soap. “Wash.” “Yes, boss.” --- For several minutes, that was exactly what they did. Washed. Nothing more complicated. Birgitta worked shampoo through her hair. Panam stood under the other side of the spray. There was enough room that they didn't need to negotiate space. That alone felt luxurious. Birgitta rinsed. Panam turned. Birgitta saw a line of dirt along the middle of her back. “Hold still.” Panam looked over her shoulder. “What?” “You missed.” “Where?” “Back.” Panam turned away again. Birgitta put soap onto her hands. Then began washing Panam's back. Shoulders first. Then down. Panam exhaled. Birgitta smiled. “Tired?” “No.” “Liar.” “A little.” Birgitta's thumbs pressed into the muscles beside Panam's spine. Panam's head lowered. “Oh.” Birgitta stopped. “Okay?” “Yes.” Panam immediately added: “Very.” Birgitta smiled. “Good.” She continued. Not sexual. Not yet. Just tired muscles after two days in the truck. Thumbs working slowly along Panam's shoulders. Down between them. Back up. Panam leaned one hand against the wall. “Fuck.” “Bad?” “No.” Birgitta pressed again. Panam's eyes closed. “Don't stop.” Birgitta didn't. --- The shower filled with steam. Panam relaxed beneath Birgitta's hands one piece at a time. Shoulders. Neck. Back. Birgitta knew enough about her body already to know where tension collected. That knowledge had come from other circumstances. Different rooms. Different beds. Different reasons for touching. Here it became useful in another way. Panam's head tilted slightly. Birgitta moved her thumbs beneath the base of her neck. Panam made a quiet sound. Birgitta paused. Panam opened one eye. “I said don't stop.” “Yes, boss.” “Asshole.” Birgitta laughed. She continued. Then Panam turned around. Birgitta's hands fell away. “What?” “My turn.” “I don't need—” Panam took Birgitta by the shoulders. Turned her. “Face the wall.” Birgitta looked back. Panam raised an eyebrow. Birgitta smiled. “Yes, boss.” “Don't make me regret this.” “Too late.” Panam's hands landed on her shoulders. Birgitta stopped smiling. “Oh.” Panam laughed softly. “What?” “Nothing.” “Liar.” “Shut up.” Panam's thumbs moved. Birgitta lowered her head. She had not realized how much tension sat there until Panam found it. “Fuck.” “Bad?” “No.” Panam smiled. “Very?” Birgitta laughed. “Yes.” Panam kept going. Firm. Slow. Birgitta braced one hand against the warm tile. The other hung loose beside her. Water ran over both of them. Panam worked down her back. Then up again. Birgitta's eyes closed. For a while the world became nothing more than heat and hands. --- Eventually Panam's hands slowed. Not stopped. Slowed. Birgitta noticed. Of course she noticed. One hand remained at her shoulder. The other moved down her side. Not far. Just enough to change the question. Birgitta opened her eyes. Panam was close behind her. Very close. Birgitta could feel her before she touched anywhere else. Panam's mouth brushed Birgitta's shoulder. Once. Then again. Birgitta turned her head. “Panam.” “Yeah?” The hand at Birgitta's side stayed still. Waiting. Birgitta smiled. “Yes.” Panam kissed her shoulder again. Then her neck. Birgitta leaned back against her. That was all the permission either needed. Panam's arms came around her. Birgitta covered one of Panam's hands with her own. The shower continued around them. Hot water. Steam. Skin finally clean. Mostly. Birgitta turned in Panam's arms. Panam kissed her. Slowly. Birgitta kissed back. No surprise. No uncertainty. Just a familiar response arriving in a new place. Panam's hand slid along her back. Birgitta's went into Panam's wet hair. The kiss deepened. Birgitta smiled against her mouth. Panam pulled back half an inch. “What?” “Nothing.” “Bullshit.” Birgitta looked around the shower. Then at Panam. “Big one.” Panam laughed. “You're thinking about the fucking shower?” “I'm appreciating infrastructure.” Panam kissed her again. Birgitta laughed into it. --- The wall was warm. Birgitta discovered this when Panam moved her gently against it. She looked over her shoulder. Then back at Panam. “So.” Panam smiled. “So?” Birgitta's hands settled at Panam's waist. “Later.” Panam stared. Birgitta smiled. “Oh, fuck you.” “That seems to be the general direction.” Panam laughed. Then kissed her hard enough to end the conversation. For a while. Their bodies already knew each other. That changed everything. There was no awkward search for what worked. No performance of discovery. Only attention. Adjustment. Recognition. Panam knew when Birgitta wanted her closer. Birgitta knew what the change in Panam's breathing meant. A hand paused. A quiet question. “Okay?” “Yes.” Then movement again. Warm tile at Birgitta's back. Hot water over Panam's shoulders. Their foreheads touching between kisses. When sex began, Birgitta's forehead dropped briefly to Panam's shoulder. A breath escaped her that almost became a laugh. Panam stilled, feeling the answer rather than asking for another one. Birgitta tightened both arms around her. “There.” Panam smiled against her temple and moved with her again. Laughter returned once when somebody's foot slipped half an inch. “Careful.” “I am.” “Liar.” “Shut up.” Then neither spoke for a while. The steam thickened. The shower kept running. Pleasure built through familiar adjustments until speech stopped being useful. When it finally broke through both of them, they stayed together under the water instead of rushing out of the moment. --- Afterward they stayed where they were. For a few seconds neither moved at all. Birgitta's forehead rested against Panam's. Panam's hands were at her waist. Birgitta's arms hung loosely around Panam's shoulders. Water ran over both of them. Their breathing slowly settled. Panam smiled first. Birgitta felt it before she saw it. “What?” Panam shook her head. “Nothing.” “Bullshit.” Panam kissed her. Softly. “That was a good shower.” Birgitta laughed. “Yes.” “Big one.” “Don't ruin it.” Panam laughed. Birgitta kissed her again. Neither seemed particularly motivated to move. Eventually Panam leaned her forehead against Birgitta's. “We're wasting hot water.” Birgitta closed her eyes. “Yes.” “We should stop.” “Yes.” Neither moved. Ten seconds. Twenty. Panam's fingers moved slowly at Birgitta's waist. Birgitta smiled. “Responsible.” “Shut up.” Another ten seconds. Then the water changed temperature. Barely. Panam noticed. “So.” Birgitta opened one eye. “No.” “Hot water.” “No.” “Birgitta.” “We fought for this.” “We did not fight for anything.” “I'm not surrendering.” Panam laughed. The water cooled another fraction. Birgitta frowned. Panam smiled. “Your enemy is winning.” “Traitor.” “Come on.” Panam reached for the controls. Birgitta caught her hand. “One more minute.” Panam looked at her. Birgitta looked back. Panam smiled. “One.” Birgitta leaned into her. Panam's arms came around her again. They stood beneath the gradually cooling water. Exactly one minute. Probably. --- Towels became the next logistical problem. There were two. Technically. One was normal. The other appeared designed for a much smaller species. Birgitta held it up. Panam stared. “No.” “Yes.” “That isn't a towel.” “It claims to be.” “That's a hand towel.” “It was on the towel rack.” Panam took the larger one. Birgitta stared. Panam looked at her. “What?” Birgitta looked at the large towel. Then at Panam. Then at the tiny one in her own hands. Panam sighed. “Fine.” She opened the large towel. Birgitta smiled. Panam wrapped it around both of them. Birgitta stepped in. They barely fit. “This is ridiculous.” “You stole the towel.” “I shared.” “After judgment.” Panam kissed the top of her head. Birgitta leaned into her. They stood there drying badly. Neither cared. --- Back in the room, the road clothes became an official problem. Birgitta held up the trousers. They were cleaner than before only because she was no longer wearing them. Panam looked from the trousers to Birgitta. “Laundry.” “Yes.” “Tomorrow?” “Tonight.” Panam groaned. “If those go into the bag like that, Lena will somehow know.” “You're scared of Lena.” “I respect Lena.” “You're scared of Lena.” Birgitta pointed at the handprint. “Evidence.” Panam smiled. “Still circumstantial.” “Five fingers.” “Could be anyone.” Birgitta threw the trousers at her. Panam caught them. “Laundry.” “Yes, boss.” They found the motel's machines downstairs. One worked. One made a noise neither woman trusted. They chose the working one. Birgitta loaded the clothes. Panam leaned against the wall. “You realize this is very glamorous.” Birgitta looked at her. “I was just thinking that.” “Premium joytoy.” “Twenty-five thousand and one.” “Washing dusty trousers in a motel at night.” Birgitta closed the machine. “Lifestyle package costs extra.” Panam laughed. Birgitta started the cycle. Panam held out her hand. Birgitta took it. They walked back upstairs. --- The room felt different after the shower. Not because anything had changed. Because both of them were clean, warm and exhausted. Panam sat on the bed. Birgitta sat beside her. For a moment they simply sat. Shoulders touching. Then Birgitta leaned sideways. Panam's arm came around her automatically. Birgitta rested her head against Panam. Panam kissed her hair. “Good day?” Birgitta thought about it. The missing road. The washout. Dust. Cargo. Clients. Panam. “Yes.” Panam nodded. “Yeah.” Birgitta looked up. “You were good today.” Panam raised an eyebrow. “Driving?” “Everything.” Panam's expression softened. “You too.” “Spotting?” “Everything.” Birgitta smiled. Panam touched her cheek. No dust this time. Birgitta turned her face and kissed Panam's palm. Panam watched her. Then: “Our system.” Birgitta smiled. “Our system.” The laundry still had twenty-eight minutes. Tomorrow's route still needed one final look. They needed water beside the bed. Alarms. Clean clothes. Boots positioned where nobody would trip over them in the dark. Normal things. Birgitta liked that the evening contained all of them. She liked even more that none of them felt separate from what had happened in the shower. Sex. Laundry. Route planning. Water. Kisses. Cargo. Sleep. Different parts of the same night. Panam squeezed her shoulder. “Route?” “In a minute.” “You said that yesterday.” “And?” “You distracted me.” Birgitta sat up. “I distracted you?” “Yes.” “With what?” Panam looked at her. Birgitta waited. Panam smiled. “Dirty trousers.” Birgitta stared. Then laughed. “You've been saving that.” “Since the room.” “You absolute bitch.” Panam looked delighted. Birgitta pushed her backward onto the bed. Panam laughed. “Hey—” Birgitta climbed over her. “Twenty-eight minutes.” Panam's hands settled at her hips. “For laundry.” “Yes.” “That isn't much time.” Birgitta leaned down. “I'm not starting anything.” Panam looked at their positions. “Of course not.” Birgitta kissed her. Slowly. Then pulled away. “Route.” Panam stared at her. Birgitta climbed off the bed. Panam remained where she was. “You are fucking evil.” Birgitta picked up the route notes. “The clothes are controlled.” Panam sat up. “What?” Birgitta smiled. “Nothing.” Panam narrowed her eyes. Birgitta sat beside her. Panam took the route notes. Their thighs touched. Birgitta leaned against her. Panam opened tomorrow's schedule. Outside, the truck waited. Downstairs, dusty road clothes turned slowly through warm water. And for the first time, the big shower already felt less like a discovery than something they might start looking for again. --- ## Chapter 16 — Camp Ahead The trousers survived. Birgitta considered this important. She stood beside the motel bed Thursday morning, inspecting them in the light from the window. Clean. Dry. Mostly. Panam sat on the edge of the bed pulling on a boot. “Well?” Birgitta turned the trousers slightly. “I think Lena may let us live.” “Us?” “You made the handprint.” “You wore them onto a service road.” “You chose the service road.” “You agreed.” “You keep using that defense.” “Because it keeps being true.” Birgitta looked at her. Panam finished the boot. Then held out a hand. “Come here.” “Why?” “Inspection.” Birgitta narrowed her eyes. Panam waited. Birgitta walked closer. Panam put both hands on her hips and looked at the trousers with exaggerated seriousness. Birgitta folded her arms. “Well?” Panam turned her slightly. Birgitta let her. Panam examined the back. “Good.” “The laundry?” “The fit.” Birgitta stared down at her. Panam smiled. “Very good.” “You're impossible.” “You like me.” “Unfortunately.” Panam pulled her closer. Birgitta's arms unfolded automatically. Panam kissed her stomach through the shirt. Then looked up. “Morning.” Birgitta's expression softened. “Morning.” She touched Panam's cheek. Panam leaned into it for half a second. Birgitta bent and kissed her. Slow. Familiar. Panam's hands stayed at Birgitta's hips. When the kiss ended, neither moved immediately. Then Panam said: “Coffee.” Birgitta laughed. “Romantic.” “Coffee is romantic.” “According to whom?” “Me.” “Terrible authority.” Panam stood. “Breakfast.” “Better.” “Truck.” “Eventually.” “Route.” Birgitta groaned. Panam kissed her cheek. “Our system.” Birgitta sighed dramatically. “Our system.” --- By 07:10 they were moving. Actual coffee. Breakfast. Water filled. Truck checked. Cargo checked. The washed trousers remained clean for almost twenty-three minutes. Then Birgitta brushed against the side of the truck at their first stop. She looked down. A pale mark. Panam saw. Birgitta looked at her. Panam raised both hands. “Not me.” Birgitta sighed. “Lena will understand.” “No, she won't.” “Probably not.” They finished the stop. Nothing interesting happened. Birgitta was beginning to appreciate days when nothing interesting happened. --- At 10:36, Panam received a message. She read it. “Fuck.” Birgitta looked over. “Client?” “No.” “Truck?” “No.” “Coffee emergency?” Panam looked at her. “Serious questions only.” “That was serious.” Panam handed her the agent. A schedule change. Their afternoon drop had moved. Not far. But enough. Birgitta read the new time. “Thirty-six minutes.” “Yeah.” “That's oddly specific.” “Welcome to logistics.” Birgitta handed the agent back. “What does it break?” “Nothing.” Panam brought up the route. “It just makes today stupid.” “Different from?” Panam gave her a look. Birgitta smiled. Panam traced the route. “We were supposed to make the drop, pick up the next load and keep moving.” “And now?” “Pickup closes before we get there.” “So tomorrow.” “Yeah.” Birgitta leaned closer. Their shoulders touched. Panam zoomed out. The next day's pickup sat farther west. Night City was still a long way away. Birgitta studied the map. “Motel?” “Could.” Panam didn't sound convinced. Birgitta noticed. “What?” Panam looked at the route. Then at Birgitta. “We could go to camp.” Birgitta's attention sharpened. Not visibly. She hoped. “Aldecaldos?” “Yeah.” There it was. A simple suggestion. A reasonable one. Panam's people. Panam's world. And somewhere inside it— “Mitch should be there.” Birgitta's thoughts stopped. Only for a fraction of a second. Mitch. Not a name Birgitta needed explained. Reyes knew Mitch. Mitch knew Reyes. Not intimately. Not enough to recognize gait from a kilometer away or identify her by the way she held a coffee cup. But he knew her face. Her voice. Her manner. Enough. Birgitta looked at the map. Not at Panam. That gave her the second she needed. Face mesh. Good. Not a cheap overlay. Not an approximation. Second generation. Dermal-conforming. Expression carried naturally. Bone architecture altered enough. Hair completely different. Eyes different. Voice physically sculpted. Higher. Brighter. Stable under fatigue. Clothing wrong for Reyes. Posture— Careful. Birgitta wasn't Reyes pretending to be someone incompetent. She couldn't suddenly change how she occupied a room because Mitch existed. That would be worse. The risk wasn't impossible. It was real. Manageable. Panam was watching her. Birgitta looked up. “Camp sounds good.” Panam blinked. “Yeah?” “Yeah.” “You don't have to.” “I know.” “I mean it.” “So do I.” Panam looked back at the road. Birgitta watched her. Interesting. Panam had sounded almost nervous. Birgitta put the thought aside. For now. “Mitch.” Panam glanced over. “What about him?” “You've mentioned him.” “Yeah.” “Not Steve.” Panam groaned. “Oh, fuck.” Birgitta smiled. “That's connected.” “No.” “It absolutely is.” “Forget it.” “You reacted to Steve like I'd threatened your family.” “Later.” Birgitta laughed. “You keep making promises.” Panam shook her head. “Menace.” Birgitta put her hand on Panam's knee. “Camp.” Panam covered it. “Camp.” --- The delayed drop was boring. Perfect. Birgitta loved it. They arrived. Waited exactly thirty-six stupid minutes. Delivered. Signed. Checked. Left. No one misplaced anything. No one changed the gate. No one discovered a broken seal. Panam almost looked disappointed. Birgitta told her so. Panam told her to fuck off. Normal day. Back in the truck, Panam brought up the route toward camp. Birgitta watched. “How far?” “Couple hours.” “Food there?” Panam looked at her. “Yes.” “Actual food?” “Very.” “Coffee?” Panam hesitated. Birgitta pointed. “That pause.” “It's fine.” “That pause was enormous.” “It's camp coffee.” “What does that mean?” “It means you'll drink it.” “That isn't an endorsement.” Panam laughed. Birgitta smiled. Then Panam reached for her agent. Typed. Stopped. Deleted. Typed again. Birgitta watched. Panam stopped again. Birgitta looked through the windshield. She gave her another ten seconds. Panam finally sent something. Birgitta waited. “What?” Panam looked at her. “What?” “You're being weird.” “No, I'm not.” “You rewrote that three times.” “You were watching?” “You're sitting seventy centimeters away.” Panam put the agent down. “I told Mitch we're coming.” “Okay.” “And that I'm bringing someone.” Birgitta looked at her. Panam stared at the road. Birgitta smiled slowly. “Someone.” “Don't.” “I haven't done anything.” “I know that face.” “What face?” “The one before you become annoying.” Birgitta laughed. Panam's agent vibrated. Panam looked at it. Stopped. Birgitta waited. Panam didn't move. “Oh, this is going to be good.” “No.” “What did he say?” “Nothing.” “Bullshit.” Panam picked up the agent. Birgitta leaned closer. Panam moved it away. “Privacy.” “You told him about me.” “I said I'm bringing someone.” “You used my name.” Panam looked at her. That was answer enough. Birgitta's eyebrows rose. Panam sighed. “Fine.” She showed her. Mitch's reply was short. > `So you're finally bringing her.` Birgitta read it. Then again. Slowly. Panam took the agent back. “Don't.” Birgitta looked at her. “Finally.” “Don't.” “Interesting word.” “Birgitta.” “You've been talking about me.” “No.” Birgitta smiled. “Mitch appears confused, then.” “I've mentioned you.” “How many times?” “I don't know.” Panam's voice had acquired the unmistakable tone of somebody standing in a hole and continuing to dig. Birgitta enjoyed herself enormously. “What did you tell him?” “Nothing.” “Apparently enough that he knows who ‘Birgitta’ is.” Panam stared through the windshield. Birgitta waited. Panam's ears were beginning to color. That was delightful. Birgitta touched one. Panam jerked her head away. “Don't.” “Oh my God.” “What?” “You're embarrassed.” “I am not.” “You are.” “Fuck you.” “Later.” Panam looked at her. Birgitta smiled sweetly. Panam tried to glare. Failed. “This was a mistake.” “The camp?” “Bringing you.” Birgitta gasped. Panam laughed. Birgitta leaned across and kissed her cheek. “You've been talking about me.” “Sometimes.” “To your people.” “Mitch is one person.” “Still counts.” Panam's hand landed on Birgitta's thigh. “Drop it.” Birgitta put her hand over Panam's. “Fine.” Panam looked suspicious. Birgitta smiled. “For now.” “Menace.” --- An hour later, Panam was still weird. Subtly. Birgitta had become very interested in watching it. Panam checked the route twice when it hadn't changed. Adjusted the mirror. Drank water. Asked Birgitta whether she was hungry. Then asked again twenty minutes later. Birgitta finally said: “Panam.” “What?” “Are you nervous?” “No.” “Okay.” Panam glanced over. That answer had apparently been too easy. Birgitta looked out the window. Panam lasted twelve seconds. “Why would I be nervous?” Birgitta hid a smile. “I don't know.” “It's just camp.” “Okay.” “You've met nomads.” “Yes.” “It's not—” Panam stopped. Birgitta looked at her. “Not what?” “Nothing.” “Panam.” Panam sighed. “It's my people.” There. Birgitta let the teasing go. Not completely. Enough. “Yes.” “They're going to be…” Panam gestured vaguely. “People?” “Annoying.” “Ah.” “They ask things.” “So do I.” “Exactly.” Birgitta laughed. Panam smiled reluctantly. Birgitta looked at her. “You want them to like me.” Panam's eyes stayed on the road. Silence. Birgitta waited. Panam's hand shifted beneath hers. “Maybe.” Birgitta's smile softened. “That's adorable.” Panam immediately looked at her. “Fuck you.” “There she is.” “I'm serious.” “So am I.” “Don't call me adorable.” “Why?” “Because.” “Excellent argument.” Panam squeezed Birgitta's hand. Birgitta leaned slightly toward her. “Panam.” “What?” “I'll be fine.” “I know.” “They'll be fine.” “Probably.” “And if Mitch hates me?” Panam looked genuinely offended by the concept. “He won't.” Birgitta smiled. That answer had come too fast. Panam realized it. “Probably.” “Too late.” “Shut up.” Birgitta laughed. Then she leaned across and kissed Panam's shoulder. Panam relaxed by degrees. --- The landscape changed as they got closer. Not dramatically. Birgitta noticed it first in Panam. More recognition. Small things. A track she didn't need to check. A landmark Panam glanced at automatically. A turn she took before the route display announced it. Home territory. Not home exactly. Something adjacent. Birgitta felt the cover risk again. Mitch. She reviewed nothing this time. That would only make her artificial. Birgitta was Birgitta. Bright. Warm. Socially quick. Shameless when she wanted to be. Mercenary competence where needed. Joytoy without apology. She did not know Mitch. Mitch did not know her. Reyes knew Mitch. Different face. Different hair. Different eyes. Different voice. Different context. Trust the work. Trust Victor. Trust Lena. Trust herself. Panam reached over. Touched Birgitta's knee. Birgitta looked at her. “You okay?” “Yes.” Panam studied her for half a second. Birgitta smiled. “Are you?” Panam rolled her eyes. “Fuck you.” “Later.” “Camp first.” “Responsible.” “Unfortunately.” Birgitta laughed. --- Twenty minutes from camp, Panam's agent vibrated. She checked it. “Mitch.” “What now?” “Cooling problem.” “Truck?” “No. Camp equipment.” “Bad?” “Doesn't sound like it.” Panam sent a reply. Birgitta watched the road. “Need help?” Panam looked at her. “With cooling?” “Yes.” “You know anything about it?” Birgitta shrugged. “Depends what's broken.” Panam smiled. “Some merc work?” Birgitta stared. Panam laughed. “You're never letting that go.” “No.” “Good.” Panam sent another message. “Mitch says he'll wait.” “For you?” “Yeah.” Birgitta nodded. Another piece. Not just a visit. Panam was returning to people who expected her to know where to put her hands when something stopped working. Birgitta liked seeing that too. --- The first lights of camp appeared in the distance. Panam changed. Barely. Birgitta felt it through the hand resting beneath hers. Tension. Not danger. Anticipation. Birgitta looked at her. Panam looked straight ahead. Birgitta moved her thumb slowly over Panam's knuckles. Panam exhaled. “You're doing it again.” “What?” “Reading me.” Birgitta smiled. “I'm touching your hand.” “Same thing.” “Want me to stop?” Panam turned her hand over. Palm up. An offer. Birgitta threaded their fingers together. “No.” They drove like that. Camp grew closer. Birgitta could see vehicles now. Structures. Movement. People. Panam's people. Somewhere among them, Mitch. A man who knew Reyes. Birgitta's pulse stayed steady. Good. Panam squeezed her hand. Birgitta looked over. Panam's eyes remained on the road. “Still want to do this?” Birgitta smiled. That question again. Different context. Same answer. “Yes.” Panam nodded. “Good.” Birgitta lifted their joined hands. Kissed Panam's knuckles. Panam smiled. The truck crossed the edge of camp. Heads turned. Not because of Birgitta. Because Panam was back. Then people noticed the passenger. Birgitta saw curiosity travel. Panam saw it too. “Oh, fuck.” Birgitta laughed. “You did this.” “I know.” Panam slowed the truck. Birgitta leaned across. Kissed her cheek. Not hidden. Not performative. Just familiar. Panam looked at her. Birgitta smiled. “Adorable.” “Don't.” Birgitta laughed. Panam parked. Outside, someone started walking toward them. Broad shoulders. Familiar shape. Mitch. Birgitta looked once. Then reached for the door. Panam caught her hand. Birgitta turned. Panam squeezed. One second. Then released her. Birgitta smiled. They got out together. --- ## Chapter 17 — Mitch Panam made it three steps. Then Birgitta caught her hand. Panam stopped. “What?” Birgitta didn't answer. She stepped closer. Panam looked at her. Then briefly toward the man approaching them. Then back. Birgitta smiled. “You're doing it again.” “Doing what?” “Being nervous.” “I'm not nervous.” Birgitta put one hand at Panam's waist. Panam sighed. “Birgitta.” “What?” “People are watching.” Birgitta glanced around. Several people were. Not staring. Watching Panam arrive with someone new. Normal curiosity. Birgitta looked back. “So?” Panam's mouth twitched. Birgitta kissed her. Not long. Not theatrical. Enough. Panam's hand came naturally to Birgitta's back. When they separated, Birgitta stayed close. “Better?” “No.” “Liar.” Panam smiled. “Little.” “Good.” The approaching man was close enough now that Birgitta let Panam go. She turned. Mitch. Birgitta knew the face. Reyes knew the face. She did nothing with that knowledge. No preparation. No adjustment. No careful avoidance of his eyes. That would be the fastest way to become interesting. Mitch looked at Panam first. Then Birgitta. His gaze stayed on her for perhaps two seconds. Normal assessment. New person. Panam's guest. Smoked copper-grey hair. Light brown eyes. Scandinavian face. Road clothes. A woman standing close enough to Panam that the relationship required no explanation. Then Mitch looked back at Panam. Nothing. No second look. No hesitation. No recognition. The cover held. Birgitta smiled. Mitch did too. “So you're Birgitta.” Birgitta tilted her head. “That sounds ominous.” Mitch laughed. Panam closed her eyes. “No.” Birgitta looked at her. “No what?” “Don't encourage him.” Mitch's smile widened. “I haven't done anything.” “Yet.” Birgitta looked between them. “I think I'm going to like him.” Panam groaned. “This was a mistake.” Mitch held out a hand. Birgitta took it. “Mitch.” “I gathered.” His eyebrows rose. Panam muttered: “Fuck.” Birgitta smiled. Mitch looked at Panam. “You've been talking.” “No.” Birgitta immediately said: “Yes.” Panam turned. “Whose side are you on?” “Mine.” Mitch nodded. “Smart.” “Thank you.” Panam pointed at both of them. “No.” Birgitta laughed. --- The camp had already returned to whatever it had been doing before Panam's truck arrived. That helped. Curiosity remained. It wasn't an event. Someone called Panam's name from farther away. She waved. Another person nodded toward Birgitta. Birgitta nodded back. No one surrounded them. No interrogation committee materialized. Panam's shoulders dropped half an inch. Birgitta noticed. Mitch noticed Birgitta noticing. That was different from recognizing Reyes. He looked amused. Birgitta decided she liked him less already. Potentially. Mitch looked at the truck. “You carrying?” “Yeah,” Panam said. “Sealed load for morning.” “Need somewhere specific?” “Level ground. Somewhere nobody decides to move it.” Mitch pointed. “Other side of the utility rig.” Panam looked. “Good.” Mitch glanced at Birgitta. “You staying?” Panam answered before she could. “Yeah.” Then looked at Birgitta. The order registered. Panam's expression changed. “I mean—” Birgitta smiled. “Yes.” Panam relaxed. Mitch saw that too. Definitely dangerous. Not cover-dangerous. Panam-dangerous. Birgitta was beginning to understand why Panam had been nervous. Mitch knew her. Very well. --- They moved the truck first. Of course. Panam parked exactly where Mitch had indicated. Birgitta got out with her. They checked the cargo. Doors. Seals. Nothing moved. Panam looked toward the camp. “Food after.” Birgitta nodded. “Cooling problem first?” Panam looked at Mitch, who had followed them. “Show me.” Mitch turned. “Thought you'd never ask.” Panam looked at Birgitta. “You don't have to come.” Birgitta stared at her. Panam sighed. “Right.” “Our system.” Mitch looked between them. “Our system?” Panam immediately started walking. “No.” Birgitta followed. Mitch fell into step beside her. “What system?” “Panam's.” From ahead: “Birgitta.” Birgitta smiled. “Ours.” Mitch laughed. Panam kept walking. --- The cooling problem belonged to an old power unit that had clearly been repaired enough times to have developed opinions about it. One access panel was already open. Tools lay nearby. Birgitta crouched beside it. Panam looked inside. Mitch pointed. “Temperature climbed under load yesterday.” “Fan?” “Running.” “Pump?” “Running.” “Flow?” “That's the question.” Panam reached inside. Mitch handed her a tool before she asked. Panam took it without looking. Birgitta noticed. Old rhythm. Not dramatic. Not even conscious. Panam checked one connection. Mitch moved the light. Panam shifted. Mitch shifted with her. They had done this before. Probably hundreds of variations of this. Birgitta liked watching it. Panam belonged here differently than she belonged in the truck. Same competence. Different roots. Panam looked at Birgitta. “Can you hold this?” Birgitta moved beside her. “Where?” Panam showed her. Birgitta took it. “Steady.” “Got it.” Panam reached farther inside. Mitch watched the reading. “Dropping.” “Slow?” “Yeah.” Panam frowned. “Restriction.” “That's what I thought.” “Why didn't you open it?” Mitch looked at her. “Because I knew you were coming.” Panam stopped. Turned her head. “You waited two hours because you were lazy.” “Efficient.” Birgitta laughed. Panam looked at her. “Don't encourage him.” “That appears to be today's theme.” Mitch handed Panam another tool. “She's funny.” “No.” Birgitta smiled. “Thank you.” Panam groaned. --- The restriction turned out to be exactly that. Nothing catastrophic. Dirty line. Bad enough to reduce flow. Not bad enough to fail completely. Panam cleaned it. Mitch flushed it. Birgitta held what needed holding, handed over tools when she understood what they wanted, and stayed out of the way when she didn't. Nobody explained basic mechanics to her. Nobody needed to. At one point Mitch said: “Clamp.” Birgitta handed him the correct one. Mitch took it. Then looked at her. “Some experience?” Panam laughed immediately. Birgitta looked at her. “Don't.” Mitch looked between them. “What?” Panam was enjoying this far too much. “Some merc work.” Birgitta closed her eyes. Mitch nodded as though this explained everything. “Right.” “It doesn't.” Panam grinned. Birgitta pointed at the cooling unit. “Fix your thing.” “Yes, boss.” Mitch looked at Panam. Panam looked at Mitch. Both smiled. Birgitta stared. “Oh, fuck both of you.” Panam laughed. --- Twenty minutes later, the unit ran cool. Mitch watched the temperature stabilize. “Good.” Panam wiped her hands. “Check it under load tomorrow.” “Yeah.” “If it climbs again, replace the line.” “I know.” “You didn't replace it today.” “Because it didn't need replacing.” Panam stared at him. Mitch stared back. Birgitta looked between them. “This feels familiar.” Both turned toward her. Birgitta raised her hands. “Nothing.” Mitch laughed first. Panam shook her head. “Food.” “Finally,” Birgitta said. Mitch looked at her. “She like this all the time?” Panam answered instantly. “Yes.” Birgitta looked offended. Mitch smiled. Panam continued: “Actually, this is restrained.” “Panam.” “What?” “You're supposed to make me sound charming.” “I am.” Mitch laughed. Birgitta slipped her hand into Panam's. Panam looked down. Then at her. Birgitta smiled. “Try harder.” Panam squeezed her hand. “No.” But she didn't let go. --- They crossed the camp together. Birgitta noticed people noticing their joined hands. Nobody cared beyond noticing. Good. She wasn't here as a secret. Panam wasn't pretending she had brought a work associate. That mattered more than Birgitta had expected. Mitch walked on Panam's other side. “So.” Panam immediately said: “No.” Mitch looked innocent. “I didn't say anything.” “You were going to.” “Probably.” Birgitta looked at him. “Please continue.” “Birgitta.” She squeezed Panam's hand. “Yes?” Panam gave her a warning look. Birgitta smiled sweetly. Mitch said: “Panam talks about you.” Panam stopped walking. Birgitta stopped with her. Mitch continued two steps before turning. Panam stared. “No, I don't.” Mitch looked at Birgitta. “She does.” Birgitta's smile became enormous. Panam saw. “Oh, fuck.” “How much?” “Don't answer that.” Mitch considered. “Enough.” Birgitta laughed. Panam pointed at him. “Traitor.” “Didn't know this was classified.” “It wasn't.” “Then?” Panam had no answer. Birgitta stepped closer. Still holding her hand. “What does she say?” “Birgitta.” Mitch looked at Panam. Then at Birgitta. “Mostly your name.” Panam blinked. Mitch shrugged. “Something happens, there's a Birgitta story. Sera comes up, Birgitta comes up. Night City comes up, sometimes Birgitta comes up.” Panam looked like she wanted the ground to open. Birgitta was delighted. Mitch continued: “She was trying to find somewhere for dinner once—” “Mitch.” “—and rejected three places.” Birgitta slowly turned toward Panam. “Three?” Panam glared at Mitch. “You are dead.” “Why?” “You know why.” Birgitta touched Panam's arm. “Three places?” Panam looked at her. “It wasn't like that.” “What was wrong with them?” “One was shit.” “Okay.” “One was too loud.” Birgitta nodded. “And the third?” Panam hesitated. Mitch smiled. Birgitta waited. Panam muttered: “Sera and I had been there.” Birgitta understood immediately. Panam had wanted the place to belong to Panam and Birgitta. Not borrowed from Panam and Sera. Not recycled. The teasing disappeared from Birgitta's face. Panam saw that. “Yeah.” Birgitta squeezed her hand. “Thank you.” Panam shrugged. Defensive tenderness. There she was. Mitch watched them. Then, mercifully, didn't comment. Birgitta leaned in and kissed Panam. Softly. Panam kissed her back. When they separated, Mitch was looking somewhere else with suspicious dedication. Birgitta smiled. Panam cleared her throat. “Food.” Mitch nodded. “Food.” They resumed walking. After five steps Birgitta said: “Three places.” Panam groaned. Mitch laughed. --- Food was communal without being ceremonial. People came and went. Someone handed Panam a plate. Another person handed Birgitta one after Panam introduced her. No interrogation. Names. Small talk. Road questions. One person wanted to know whether the eastern route was still bad. Panam answered. Another asked about Night City traffic. Birgitta answered that one. She didn't pretend to be a nomad. Didn't imitate Panam. Didn't try to prove she belonged. She was Panam's guest. That was enough. And apparently Panam had prepared the ground without realizing it. Twice someone said: “Oh, Birgitta.” Not recognition. Context. They had heard the name. The second time, Birgitta looked at Panam. Panam stared fiercely at her food. Birgitta let her suffer. For now. They sat close. Their thighs touched. Panam's arm rested along the back of Birgitta's seat when there was one. When there wasn't, her hand occasionally settled at Birgitta's lower back. Birgitta stole food from Panam's plate. Panam complained. Then moved the plate closer. Mitch noticed. Said nothing. That might have been worse. --- As the light began to fade, Panam leaned toward Birgitta. “You okay?” Birgitta turned. Their faces were close. “Yes.” “Sure?” “Yes.” Panam looked around the camp. Birgitta understood the actual question. “You can stop checking.” Panam looked back at her. “I'm not checking.” “You've asked me four times.” “Twice.” “Four.” “Three.” Birgitta smiled. “I'm having a good time.” Panam studied her. Birgitta kissed her cheek. “I like your people.” Panam's expression softened. “Yeah?” “Yes.” A pause. “And Mitch didn't hate me.” Panam laughed. “I told you he wouldn't.” “He talks too much.” “Yeah.” “I like him.” “Unfortunately.” Birgitta smiled. Panam's hand settled on her thigh. Birgitta covered it. For a moment the camp moved around them while neither woman paid much attention. Then Mitch appeared in front of them. Panam looked up. “What?” “You staying tonight?” Panam looked at Birgitta. This time she waited. Birgitta smiled. “Yes.” Panam looked back at Mitch. “Yeah.” “Good.” Mitch pointed vaguely across camp. “There's space. I'll show you later.” “Thanks.” He turned to leave. Then stopped. Looked back at Panam. “She's good.” Panam stared at him. Birgitta's eyebrows rose. Mitch walked away before either could answer. Panam closed her eyes. Birgitta looked at her. “Adorable.” “Don't.” Birgitta laughed. Panam pulled her closer by the waist. “I'm serious.” “So am I.” Panam kissed her. Right there. In front of everyone who happened to be looking. Not long. Not performative. Chosen. When Panam pulled away, Birgitta stayed close. “You wanted him to like me.” Panam sighed. “Yes.” There. No escape this time. Birgitta smiled. “Good.” “What?” “I wanted him to like me too.” Panam blinked. “Why?” Birgitta looked around the camp. Then back at her. “Because he's yours.” Panam went very still. Birgitta saw the sentence land. She didn't explain it. Didn't need to. Panam touched her cheek. Birgitta leaned into the hand. Then Panam kissed her again. Softer. Mitch had known Reyes. He had looked directly at Birgitta. And seen only Birgitta. The cover had held. But standing there with Panam's hand warm against her face, Birgitta realized that wasn't the part of the evening she cared about anymore. Panam's people knew her name. Panam had wanted them to like her. And they were staying the night. --- ## Chapter 18 — Not Steve Birgitta heard the tags first. A metallic jingle. Then claws on hard ground. She turned. Stopped. “Oh my God.” Panam looked over. “What?” A dog came around the side of a vehicle. Large. Dusty. One ear standing straight up. The other apparently having resigned from the position. Birgitta stared. The dog saw her. Changed direction immediately. Panam followed her gaze. “No.” Birgitta's smile widened. “Oh my God. Not Steve.” Mitch, walking behind them with a folded blanket under one arm, stopped. “His name is Steve.” Panam pointed at the dog. “No.” Birgitta nodded firmly. “Absolutely not.” Mitch looked between them. “What the fuck is wrong with Steve?” Panam folded her arms. “Everything.” The dog arrived. Birgitta crouched immediately. Steve shoved his head into her hands. Birgitta laughed. “Oh, you're enormous.” His tail began hitting her leg. Panam looked betrayed. “No.” Birgitta scratched behind the standing ear. The other remained committed to structural independence. “Look at him.” “I've seen him.” “Not enough.” “I've seen too much.” Mitch adjusted the blanket. “See? Steve.” Panam looked at Birgitta. “Not Steve.” Birgitta looked solemnly at the dog. “Not Steve.” Mitch sighed. “Great. There are two of you.” Birgitta smiled. Panam looked pleased. Not Steve leaned his full weight into Birgitta. She nearly lost balance. “Jesus.” Mitch nodded. “He does that.” “You could have warned me.” “You looked happy.” “I am.” Panam shook her head. “Don't encourage him.” Birgitta looked up. “He's a dog.” “He knows what he's doing.” Not Steve sat directly on Birgitta's boot. Birgitta looked down. Then at Panam. “I've been claimed.” “No.” Mitch nodded. “Yeah.” Panam pointed at him. “Stop.” --- The sleeping space Mitch had mentioned was simple. Private enough. Dry. Two people could sleep there comfortably if neither expected luxury. Birgitta looked around. Panam watched her. Birgitta put her bag down. “Perfect.” Panam blinked. “Really?” “Yes.” “You didn't even inspect the shower.” Birgitta looked at her. “There is a shower?” “Sort of.” “How big?” Panam started laughing. Birgitta smiled. “Important question.” “Not big.” “Then we're not discussing it.” Panam dropped her own bag beside Birgitta's. There. Same thing again. Two bags. Together. A place for the night. Birgitta looked at them for half a second longer than necessary. Panam noticed. She stepped close. Hand at Birgitta's waist. “What?” “Nothing.” “Bullshit.” Birgitta smiled. “Your people gave us somewhere to sleep.” “Yeah.” “Together.” Panam's expression softened. “Yeah.” Birgitta kissed her. Slowly. Panam's other hand came up to her neck. For several seconds the camp disappeared. Then something hit Birgitta's leg. They separated. Not Steve stood beside them. Looking up. Birgitta stared. Panam closed her eyes. “How?” The dog wagged his tail. Birgitta looked toward the entrance. Then at him. “Were you waiting?” Not Steve said nothing. Panam pointed outside. “No.” The dog sat. Panam pointed again. “Out.” Not Steve remained. Birgitta covered her mouth. Panam looked at her. “Don't.” Birgitta's shoulders shook. “Don't you fucking laugh.” Birgitta lost. Not Steve wagged harder. Panam looked at the ceiling. “Mitch!” From outside: “What?” “Your dog!” “He likes you!” “He's in our room!” A pause. Then: “Steve!” The dog looked toward the voice. Did not move. Birgitta leaned against Panam, laughing. Panam wrapped an arm around her automatically. “This is your fault.” “How?” “You said his name.” “Not Steve.” The dog wagged. Panam stared at him. “Fuck.” --- Mitch eventually retrieved him. Mostly. Not Steve followed Mitch approximately twelve meters. Then disappeared. Panam watched. “He'll be back.” Birgitta smiled. “I hope so.” “Of course you do.” They returned to the evening. People were settling into the slower rhythm after work. Some jobs continued. Some tools disappeared. Food became more important than machinery. Birgitta helped where helping made sense. Not performatively. Someone needed a crate moved. She moved it. Someone asked Panam about the truck. Birgitta stayed out of the answer. Someone asked Birgitta whether the road from the east was still passable. She said: “Technically.” Panam laughed from three meters away. The other woman looked between them. “That bad?” Panam called: “She thought it was fun.” Birgitta pointed at her. “It was.” “You're insane.” “Coward.” The woman laughed and walked away. Panam came over. “Making friends?” “Apparently.” “Dangerous.” Birgitta took Panam's hand. “Jealous?” “No.” “Good.” Panam kissed her temple. “Hungry?” “Yes.” “Good.” “Our system.” Panam smiled. “Our system.” --- Dinner appeared in stages. Plates. Bowls. People moving things around. Birgitta ended up sitting beside Panam with Mitch across from them. Not Steve was nowhere visible. Birgitta noticed. Panam noticed her noticing. “No.” “I didn't say anything.” “You're looking for him.” “Maybe.” “Don't.” Birgitta smiled. Mitch looked up. “What?” “Nothing,” Panam said. Birgitta said: “Not Steve.” Mitch sighed. “Steve.” Panam pointed at him with her fork. “Stop trying to make that happen.” “It's literally his name.” “Bad decision.” “I didn't name him.” Panam paused. Birgitta looked at her. Then Mitch. “Who did?” Mitch shrugged. “Somebody before he decided I had food.” Birgitta smiled. “Ah.” Panam groaned. “No.” “He adopted you.” “No.” Mitch nodded. “Pretty much.” Birgitta leaned toward Panam. “Didn't you tell me that?” Panam looked betrayed. “I told you Mitch had been adopted.” “Yes.” “Not that the dog's name was acceptable.” “Important distinction.” “Very.” Mitch shook his head. “You're both idiots.” Birgitta smiled. “Thank you.” Panam bumped her shoulder against Birgitta's. Birgitta bumped back. Their knees stayed touching under the table. Panam stole something from Birgitta's plate. Birgitta stared. “Excuse me.” Panam chewed. “What?” “That was mine.” “You steal my food.” “Yes.” “So?” “Different.” “How?” Birgitta considered. “Mine.” Mitch laughed. Panam reached for another piece. Birgitta moved the plate. Panam followed. Birgitta moved it farther. Panam leaned against her. Birgitta laughed. “Stop.” “Give me one.” “No.” “You have three.” “They're mine.” Panam put an arm around Birgitta's waist. “Birgitta.” “No.” Panam kissed her cheek. Birgitta looked at her. “That is manipulation.” “Yes.” “Shameless.” “Yes.” Birgitta sighed. Then moved one piece onto Panam's plate. Panam smiled. “Thank you.” “You're terrible.” Panam kissed her again. Birgitta smiled despite herself. Then something warm touched her other knee. Birgitta looked down. Not Steve. His head rested against her leg. His eyes looked upward. Birgitta froze. Panam followed her gaze. “No.” Not Steve remained perfectly still. Mitch looked beneath the table. “Steve.” One ear moved. The dog ignored him. Birgitta looked at her plate. Then at the dog. Panam saw the calculation. “No.” “I haven't done anything.” “Don't.” “I'm eating.” “Keep eating.” Birgitta took another bite. Not Steve watched. Birgitta chewed. The dog's eyes followed every movement. “This is psychological warfare.” Panam nodded. “Yes.” Mitch looked offended. “He's hungry.” “He ate.” “When?” “Before us.” Mitch shrugged. “Maybe he's hungry again.” Panam looked at Birgitta. “Do not listen to him.” Birgitta smiled. “I won't.” Panam looked relieved. Birgitta returned to her food. Not Steve waited. Patient. Professional. Birgitta admired commitment. --- Three minutes later, Birgitta's plate was on the table beside her. She had turned toward Panam because Panam was telling her something about a route west of camp. Mitch asked a question. Panam answered. Birgitta felt something move against her leg. Then: A sound. Very small. Plate against table. Birgitta turned. Her plate was still there. One piece of food was not. Not Steve was already moving away. Birgitta stared. “Did he—” Panam looked. Mitch looked. Not Steve accelerated. “You little shit!” Birgitta stood. The dog was gone. Panam started laughing. Birgitta looked at the plate. Then after the dog. Then at Mitch. “Your criminal stole my food.” Mitch shrugged. “I warned you.” “No, you didn't.” “I said he was hungry.” “That is not a warning.” Panam was laughing hard enough to lean against Birgitta. Birgitta looked at her. “This is not funny.” Panam put her forehead against Birgitta's shoulder. It made the laughter worse. Birgitta tried to stay offended. Failed. “Oh, fuck you.” Panam wrapped both arms around her waist. Birgitta started laughing too. Mitch looked toward where the dog had vanished. “Steve!” No response. Birgitta pointed. “Not Steve!” Still nothing. Panam laughed against her shoulder. Birgitta turned her head and kissed Panam's hair. “You're enjoying this way too much.” “Yes.” “My dinner was stolen.” “Part of it.” “By a repeat offender.” “Yes.” “Where is the justice?” “Badlands.” Birgitta laughed. --- Their system solved it. Naturally. Panam found more food. Birgitta moved her replacement plate farther from the edge. Mitch claimed this was unnecessary. Both women ignored him. Panam sat closer this time. One arm occasionally behind Birgitta. Birgitta leaned against her. Every few minutes they checked beneath the table. Not Steve did not return. “He's waiting,” Panam said. Birgitta looked around. “For what?” “Weakness.” Mitch groaned. “He's a dog.” Panam looked at him. “You've learned nothing.” Birgitta nodded. “She's right.” “Thank you.” Panam kissed Birgitta's cheek. Mitch looked at them. “You two are ridiculous.” Birgitta smiled. Panam said: “Yeah.” No defense. Birgitta turned slightly. Panam was already looking at her. Their smiles met. Birgitta kissed her. Quick. Easy. Then went back to eating. Mitch watched that. Not intensely. Just enough. Birgitta caught it. “What?” Mitch shook his head. “Nothing.” Panam looked at him. “Mitch.” He lifted both hands. “I said nothing.” Birgitta looked at Panam. Panam looked suspicious. Birgitta smiled. “Leave him.” “Why?” “He'll tell us eventually.” Mitch laughed. Panam sighed. “You really do fit in here.” The words came out casually. Panam froze. Only slightly. Birgitta did too. Mitch suddenly became extremely interested in his plate. Birgitta looked at Panam. Panam's expression had gone defensive. As if she wanted to retrieve the sentence. Birgitta didn't let her. She leaned closer. Shoulder against Panam's. “Good.” Panam looked at her. Birgitta smiled. Panam's tension disappeared. Her hand settled at Birgitta's lower back. “Good.” --- Later, the camp grew darker. Lights replaced daylight. Conversation broke into smaller groups. Birgitta sat beside Panam again. Close enough that there was no useful distinction between their space. Panam's thigh against hers. Birgitta's shoulder under Panam's arm. They listened more than talked for a while. Birgitta liked that too. She didn't need to perform being social. Didn't need to charm every person. Didn't need to turn Birgitta all the way up. She could simply sit. Panam laughed at something Mitch said. Birgitta felt it through the arm around her. She looked up. Panam looked down. “What?” Birgitta shook her head. “Nothing.” “Bullshit.” Birgitta smiled. “I'm having a good time.” Panam's expression changed. Small. Warm. “Yeah?” “Yes.” Panam kissed her. Brief. Natural. Then returned to the conversation without removing her arm. Birgitta rested her head against Panam. A minute later something nudged her boot. She looked down. Not Steve. He sat beside her. No shame. No remorse. Birgitta stared. “You.” The dog wagged. Panam looked down. “Oh, fuck off.” Not Steve looked at Panam. Then at Birgitta. Birgitta reached down. Scratched behind his ear. Panam stared. “He stole from you.” “Yes.” “And you're petting him.” “Yes.” “He'll do it again.” “Probably.” Panam looked betrayed. Birgitta smiled. “He's cute.” “He's a criminal.” “Those aren't mutually exclusive.” Mitch laughed from nearby. Panam pointed at him. “Not helping.” Birgitta scratched beneath Not Steve's chin. The dog leaned into it. Panam sighed. Then reached down too. Birgitta saw. Slowly turned her head. Panam froze with her hand on the dog's neck. “What?” Birgitta smiled. “Nothing.” “Don't.” “You like him.” “No.” Not Steve leaned against Panam's leg. Panam kept scratching. Birgitta's smile widened. “Absolutely not.” “Shut up.” Birgitta kissed Panam's cheek. Not Steve stayed between their boots. For the rest of the evening, Birgitta kept her food farther away. Their system was learning. --- ## Chapter 19 — Panam’s People Not Steve eventually left. Not because anyone told him to. Because someone twenty meters away opened something that sounded like food. His head came up. One ear first. Then the other attempted to participate. Birgitta watched him. “No.” Panam looked down. “What?” “He's going to betray me.” Not Steve stood. Birgitta pointed. “Don't.” The dog looked at her. Then toward the sound. Then back. Birgitta narrowed her eyes. “We had something.” Panam started laughing. Not Steve ran away. Birgitta stared after him. “Unbelievable.” “I warned you.” “He used me.” “He stole your dinner.” “And I forgave him.” “That was your first mistake.” Birgitta looked at Panam. “You petted him.” “No.” “I saw you.” “Circumstantial.” Birgitta laughed. Panam's arm tightened around her. The conversation around them continued. Nobody had paused for the dog. Nobody had paused for them. Birgitta liked that. --- The evening stretched. Not into an event. Into life. Someone needed help moving equipment before night. Panam stood. Birgitta stood with her. Panam looked at her. “You can stay.” “I know.” “You don't have to follow me everywhere.” “I know.” Panam waited. Birgitta smiled. “Where are we going?” Panam laughed. “Come on.” They carried things. Nothing important. A case from one vehicle to another. Tools back where they belonged. A tarp that had been left out. Birgitta helped because there were hands needed. Nobody praised her for it. Nobody treated her like a guest who needed entertaining. Good. At one point a woman Birgitta had met over dinner handed her one end of a crate without asking. Birgitta took it. They moved it. Done. Panam saw. Birgitta caught her watching. “What?” Panam shook her head. “Nothing.” “Bullshit.” “Work.” “Liar.” Panam smiled and kept walking. Birgitta let her. --- She learned things. Not secrets. Better things. Panam knew which generator had a bad starter. Which vehicle needed its left rear suspension checked before another long run. Who would forget to eat if nobody put food directly into their hand. Who could repair almost anything but would somehow lose every tool while doing it. Who had a daughter. Who was sleeping badly. Who had taken a route north three days ago and should have been back tomorrow. People called Panam over. Not constantly. Enough. A question. An opinion. A pair of hands. A complaint. Panam answered some. Argued with others. Told one person to stop doing something stupid. Was told, in return, to mind her own fucking business. Birgitta laughed. Panam looked at her. “What?” “Nothing.” “You're enjoying this.” “Yes.” “Why?” Birgitta considered. Then looked around. “You.” Panam's expression shifted. Birgitta smiled. “This is you.” Panam looked around too. “Part of me.” “Yes.” Birgitta touched her arm. “I like seeing it.” Panam went quiet. Birgitta didn't rescue her. Didn't turn it into a joke. Panam eventually looked at her. “Yeah?” “Yes.” Panam's hand moved to Birgitta's waist. Pulled her closer. Birgitta went willingly. Panam kissed her. Right there beside a half-disassembled vehicle. Someone walked past carrying a toolbox. “Get a room.” Panam broke the kiss. “Fuck off.” The person kept walking. Birgitta laughed against Panam's shoulder. Panam looked down at her. “See?” “I like your people.” “You have terrible judgment.” Birgitta kissed her again. “Probably.” --- Later, Birgitta ended up sitting on the edge of a vehicle while Panam and Mitch argued about a repair. Not the cooling system. Something else. Birgitta wasn't entirely sure what. The argument seemed to involve a part Mitch wanted to keep for another month and Panam wanted replaced yesterday. “It works,” Mitch said. “It barely works.” “It works.” “It makes that noise.” “It has always made that noise.” “That doesn't make the noise good.” Mitch looked at Birgitta. “Do you hear a problem?” Birgitta looked at Panam. Panam folded her arms. Birgitta looked back at Mitch. “I value my life.” Mitch laughed. Panam smiled. “Smart.” Birgitta pointed at her. “Also, you're biased.” “Yes.” “Shamelessly.” “Yes.” Mitch shook his head. “Useless.” Birgitta smiled. “I'm a guest.” Panam immediately said: “You've been working half the evening.” Birgitta looked at her. Panam seemed surprised by her own response. Mitch noticed. Of course he did. Birgitta smiled. “Apparently I'm a working guest.” Mitch looked at Panam. “Keep her.” Panam froze. Birgitta's eyebrows rose. Mitch immediately looked back at the vehicle. “I mean for the repair.” “No, you didn't,” Panam said. Mitch started laughing. Birgitta slid off the vehicle. Panam looked at her. Birgitta walked over. “Keep me?” “Don't.” Birgitta put both arms around Panam's waist. Panam tried to remain annoyed. Failed. Birgitta looked up at her. “You're blushing again.” “I'm going to kill Mitch.” “Later.” Panam stared. Birgitta smiled. Panam kissed her. Mitch said: “I'm still here.” Panam lifted one hand without breaking the kiss and gave him the finger. Birgitta started laughing. --- Darkness settled completely. The camp changed with it. Work didn't stop. It reduced. People gathered differently. Voices carried farther. Someone had music playing quietly. Birgitta didn't know the song. Panam did. She hummed three notes without realizing it. Birgitta heard. Panam caught her looking. “No.” “What?” “Whatever you're about to say.” “I wasn't going to say anything.” “Bullshit.” Birgitta smiled. “You sing.” “No.” “You just did.” “That wasn't singing.” “What was it?” “Nothing.” Birgitta leaned against her. “Do it again.” “No.” “Please?” Panam looked at her. Birgitta smiled. Panam kissed her forehead. “No.” Birgitta laughed. They stayed like that. Panam sitting behind her. Birgitta between her knees. Panam's arms loose around her waist. No one cared. That was becoming one of Birgitta's favorite things about the camp. Nobody cared. Not in the indifferent sense. In the better one. They saw. Accepted. Continued. Panam touched her without checking who watched. Birgitta leaned into her without wondering what the gesture implied. A kiss happened because one of them wanted one. Then conversation continued. Simple. --- Someone brought drinks. Birgitta took one. Panam inspected hers. “Safe?” The person who had handed it over looked offended. “No. Instant death.” Panam nodded. “Good.” Birgitta took a drink. Panam watched. “What?” “Nothing.” “Checking?” Panam smiled. “Maybe.” Birgitta held the drink toward her. Panam took a sip. “Fine.” “You're ridiculous.” “You like me.” “Unfortunately.” The answer came automatically now. Panam smiled every time anyway. --- Birgitta talked to people. Not everyone. Enough. She listened more than she expected. Stories of routes. Vehicles. Weather. A supplier who apparently hated everybody equally and was therefore trustworthy. A bridge nobody used after rain. A mechanic outside Tucson who could rebuild an engine but shouldn't be allowed near electrical work. Panam occasionally corrected details from across the conversation. Someone corrected her back. Birgitta watched. This wasn't Panam performing expertise. This was shared memory. Collective knowledge. People who had depended on each other long enough to remember the same failures differently. Birgitta understood something. Not about nomads generally. She wasn't arrogant enough to think one evening gave her that. About Panam. Why Panam planned the way she did. Why food mattered before hunger. Why fuel margins were never theoretical. Why inconvenience had to be prevented from becoming emergency. Why she checked vehicles before messages. Why she slept deeply when she finally trusted a place enough to sleep at all. The system hadn't started in the truck. The truck was only where Birgitta had first seen it. Panam caught her staring. “What?” Birgitta shook her head. “Nothing.” Panam narrowed her eyes. Birgitta smiled. “Later.” Panam laughed. “Now you're stealing that too.” “Yes.” --- Mitch appeared sometime after ten. “Space is ready.” Panam looked up. “Thanks.” Birgitta stood. Panam did too. Nobody announced their departure. A few goodnights. Someone told Panam not to leave before breakfast. Panam said no promises. Someone else told Birgitta to make her. Birgitta said she'd try. Panam looked betrayed. Normal. Easy. They walked through camp together. Panam's hand found Birgitta's. Birgitta threaded their fingers. Neither commented. The night air was cooler. Birgitta leaned closer as they walked. Panam bumped her shoulder. “You cold?” “No.” “Liar.” “Little.” Panam pulled her closer. Birgitta smiled. “Better.” “Good.” They reached the sleeping space. Panam opened the door. Birgitta paused before going inside. Looked back. Lights. Vehicles. People still moving. Voices. Panam waited. “What?” Birgitta looked at her. “Thank you.” “For what?” “Bringing me.” Panam's expression softened. “You liked it?” “Yes.” “Even Mitch?” “Especially Mitch.” Panam groaned. Birgitta laughed. “Not Steve?” Birgitta looked toward the camp. “Criminal.” “Finally.” “Adorable criminal.” “No.” Birgitta stepped closer. Panam put her hands at Birgitta's waist. Birgitta looked up. “I liked seeing you here.” Panam's hands tightened slightly. “You said.” “I mean it.” “I know.” A pause. Panam looked almost uncomfortable. Not with Birgitta. With being seen too clearly. Birgitta knew that look now. She didn't press. She kissed her. Panam kissed back. Slow. Then opened the door wider. “Inside.” “Yes, boss.” --- The room was quiet. Camp sounds still reached them through the walls. Muted voices. An engine somewhere. Metal. A laugh. Life continuing outside. Birgitta put her jacket over the chair. Panam closed the door. Birgitta turned. Panam was watching her. Not nervously. Not like the first motel. Not like the shower. Different. Birgitta leaned against the chair. “What?” Panam shook her head. “Nothing.” “Bullshit.” Panam smiled. “Come here.” Birgitta did. No hesitation. Panam's hands settled at her waist. Birgitta's around her neck. They kissed. Slow at first. The day was still between them. Mitch laughing. Panam arguing over machinery. Hands joined while walking through camp. People saying Birgitta's name as if it had already existed there before she arrived. Panam touching her openly. Birgitta watching Panam belong. The kiss deepened. Birgitta felt Panam's hands move beneath her jacket. She pulled back just enough. “Okay?” Panam smiled. “Yes.” Birgitta kissed her again. --- Clothes came off gradually. Not because either needed to discover what came next. Because neither was rushing. Panam sat on the edge of the bed. Birgitta stood between her knees. Panam's hands moved along her sides. Birgitta touched her face. Her hair. Her shoulders. Familiar. Everywhere familiar. But the room wasn't. The sounds outside weren't. The knowledge of where they were wasn't. Panam kissed Birgitta's stomach. Birgitta smiled. Her fingers moved through Panam's hair. Panam looked up. “What?” Birgitta shook her head. “Nothing.” “Bullshit.” “I like you here.” Panam's expression softened. “In this room?” Birgitta laughed quietly. “No.” She looked toward the wall. Beyond it. The camp. “Here.” Panam understood. Her hands became still at Birgitta's hips. Birgitta watched the answer move across her face. Then Panam pulled her closer. Birgitta bent. Their foreheads touched. “Yeah?” Panam asked it quietly. Birgitta knew the question was larger than the next few minutes and smaller than any declaration. She answered the part that mattered. “Yes.” Panam kissed her. --- Nothing after that needed much language. They already knew the map. What changed was the place. Panam beneath Birgitta's hands with her people outside. Birgitta beneath Panam's with the camp continuing around them. Neither hidden. Only private. There was laughter once when the bed objected loudly to movement. Both froze. Birgitta covered her mouth. Panam stared at the wall. From outside, nothing happened. Birgitta whispered: “Excellent.” Panam started laughing silently. Birgitta did too. “Shut up.” “You first.” Panam kissed her. The bed complained again. Neither cared this time. The laughter faded. Touch replaced it. Familiar responses. Small adjustments. A quiet question. A clear answer. When sex began, Birgitta laughed once into Panam's shoulder—not at anything funny, just at the impossible warmth of being here, with Panam, inside Panam's world. Panam kissed her temple and waited. Birgitta answered by pulling her closer. After that, the room narrowed to breath, touch, the occasional muffled laugh, and the practiced attention they already knew how to give each other. By the time pleasure finally took the last words away, the camp outside had become only sound through a wall. --- Afterward, the camp was still there. That was the strange part. Birgitta lay against Panam. Panam's arm beneath her neck. Their legs tangled. Neither had pulled the blanket properly over them. Outside, somebody laughed. Farther away, an engine started. Then stopped. Birgitta listened. Panam's fingers moved lazily along her shoulder. “You okay?” Birgitta smiled against her skin. “Yes.” Panam kissed her hair. “Good.” Birgitta shifted closer. Panam's arm tightened. They stayed still. No immediate joke. No need to fill the room. Birgitta listened to Panam breathe. Slow. Relaxed. She had slept beside Panam before. Woken beside her. Had sex with her in places chosen for them. A date. A motel. A shower. This was different. Not more intimate because of the sex. The sex was already theirs. This was intimate because outside that wall was Panam's history. Her people. Her arguments. Her routines. Her belonging. And Birgitta was lying in the middle of it with Panam's hand resting warm against her shoulder. Panam spoke eventually. “You got quiet.” “Thinking.” “Dangerous.” Birgitta laughed softly. “Yes.” “About?” Birgitta traced one finger along Panam's ribs. “Today.” Panam waited. “I understand your system better.” Panam smiled. “Our system.” Birgitta lifted her head. Panam was looking at her. Birgitta smiled back. “Our system.” She kissed her. Then settled down again. Panam pulled the blanket over them properly. “Sleep.” “Yes, boss.” “Birgitta.” “What?” Panam sighed. Birgitta smiled into her shoulder. A few minutes passed. Panam's breathing changed first. Deepened. Birgitta listened. Outside, the camp continued quietly. Inside, Panam slept. Birgitta remained awake just a little longer. Not because she was worried. Because she wanted to remember what it felt like. Then Panam shifted in her sleep. Her arm tightened around Birgitta. Automatic. Birgitta smiled. Closed her eyes. And let the camp keep watch outside. --- ## Chapter 20 — You’d Probably Like Her Birgitta woke because Panam moved. Not away. Closer. One arm tightened around her waist. A knee shifted between hers. Panam made a quiet sound that contained no recognizable language. Birgitta opened her eyes. Morning light had found its way into the room. Not much. Enough. For several seconds she stayed still. Panam's face was partly buried against her shoulder. Hair everywhere. Breathing slow. Warm. Birgitta smiled. She had learned something else about Panam. When Panam trusted sleep, she committed to it. Completely. Birgitta moved one hand through her hair. Panam's breathing changed. Not awake. Close. Birgitta did it again. Panam's eyes opened. Barely. “Morning.” Panam stared at her. Then closed her eyes again. “No.” Birgitta laughed softly. “No?” “Too early.” “You don't know what time it is.” “Morning.” “That is generally how mornings work.” Panam pulled her closer. Birgitta went willingly. “Five minutes.” Birgitta smiled. “Again?” “Yes.” “You're becoming predictable.” “Shut up.” Birgitta kissed her forehead. Panam's hand moved lazily along her back. Stopped at her waist. Stayed there. Five minutes became something less measurable. Neither cared. --- Eventually Birgitta said: “We have a pickup.” Panam groaned into her shoulder. “Yes.” “Truck.” “Yes.” “Cargo.” “Yes.” “Coffee.” Panam opened her eyes. “Okay.” Birgitta laughed. “There she is.” Panam looked at her. “Coffee first.” “Our system says vehicle first.” Panam stared. Birgitta smiled. “Oh, you hate hearing your own rules.” “Deeply.” “Good.” Panam kissed her. Sleepy. Slow. Birgitta's hand settled against her cheek. Panam stayed there longer than necessary. When they separated, Panam looked considerably more awake. “Morning.” Birgitta smiled. “Morning.” --- Getting dressed had become completely uninteresting. Birgitta liked that. Shirt. Trousers. Panam searching for one sock. Birgitta finding it beneath the edge of the bed. Panam accusing her of moving it. Birgitta pointing out that she had been asleep. Panam maintaining that this proved nothing. Birgitta changed while Panam packed. Panam changed while Birgitta checked their bags. No turning away. No pauses. No awareness that needed comment. Just bodies they knew. Birgitta fastened her trousers. Panam looked. Birgitta caught her. “Eyes up, Palmer.” Panam continued looking for another second. “No.” Birgitta laughed. Panam came closer. Put both hands on Birgitta's hips. “Morning inspection.” “You already used that.” “Still necessary.” “For road safety?” “Yes.” “Very professional.” Panam kissed her. Birgitta smiled against her mouth. Then somebody knocked. Panam stopped. Birgitta looked toward the door. Another knock. Mitch's voice: “You alive?” Panam closed her eyes. Birgitta covered her mouth. Panam called: “No.” “Coffee in ten.” Panam's eyes opened. “Actual coffee?” A pause. “Mostly.” Panam looked horrified. Birgitta started laughing. Mitch walked away. Panam pointed at the door. “This is why I don't live here.” Birgitta kissed her cheek. “Adorable.” “Don't.” --- Not Steve was waiting outside. Birgitta opened the door. Stopped. The dog sat approximately two meters away. Watching. Birgitta looked at him. He looked at her. Panam came up behind her. “No.” Not Steve's tail moved once. Birgitta folded her arms. “You stole from me.” The tail moved again. “No remorse.” Panam leaned against the doorway. “I told you.” Birgitta walked toward the dog. Panam sighed. “Of course.” Birgitta crouched. Not Steve immediately put his head against her chest. Birgitta scratched behind both ears. “Well, fine.” Panam stared. “He won.” “Yes.” “You lasted one night.” “He's persuasive.” “He's a criminal.” Not Steve leaned harder. Birgitta smiled. “A persuasive criminal.” Panam shook her head. Then crouched beside them. Birgitta looked at her. Panam touched the dog's head. Birgitta smiled slowly. Panam pointed at her. “No.” “I said nothing.” “Your face did.” Birgitta laughed. --- Vehicle first. Panam insisted. Birgitta approved loudly enough to be annoying. Truck. Tires. Fluid. Cargo seals. Nothing wrong. Their bags went in. Birgitta's bag returned to its place without thought. Panam's things had their places. Birgitta's things now had theirs. When the check was done, Panam looked toward breakfast. “Coffee.” Birgitta nodded. “Coffee.” --- Camp morning was different from camp night. Faster. People already moving. Engines. Tools. Food being eaten because it needed to be eaten, not because anyone had arranged a social evening. Birgitta liked this too. They got breakfast. The coffee was better than Mitch's description. Barely. Panam drank it. Made a face. Drank again. Birgitta watched. “You hate it.” “Yes.” “You're still drinking it.” “It's coffee.” “That defense is becoming less convincing every day.” Panam pointed at her cup. “This has caffeine.” “So does medication.” “Exactly.” Birgitta laughed. They sat. Close. Panam's knee against hers. Birgitta's hand resting on Panam's thigh while she drank. Normal. Mitch arrived with his own cup. He sat across from them. “Sleep?” Panam looked at him. “Yes.” Mitch nodded. Birgitta drank her coffee. Mitch looked at her. “You?” Birgitta smiled. “Eventually.” Panam coughed. Birgitta looked innocently at her. Mitch's eyebrows rose. Panam pointed at Birgitta. “Don't.” “I answered the question.” “You absolutely did.” Mitch smiled into his coffee. Birgitta squeezed Panam's thigh. Panam muttered something. “What?” “Menace.” Birgitta smiled. --- The conversation moved to work. Today's pickup. Road conditions. Weather farther west. Nothing difficult. Mitch mentioned someone who had driven the northern route. Panam asked when. Mitch answered. They compared information. Birgitta ate. Listened. Then Mitch said: “You should ask Reyes next time you see her.” Birgitta's fork stopped. Not visibly. Almost. Panam nodded. “Yeah.” Birgitta continued eating. There it was. No warning. No dramatic cue. Her own name. Well. One of them. Mitch drank coffee. “She ran something through that side a while back, didn't she?” Panam thought. “Think so.” “She'd remember the checkpoints.” “Probably.” Birgitta took another bite. Calmly. Panam looked at her. Not suspiciously. Including her. “Mitch knows Reyes.” Birgitta swallowed. “Yeah?” Mitch nodded. “Merc.” Birgitta looked interested. Because Birgitta would be interested. “What kind?” Panam shrugged. “Competent.” Mitch laughed. “That's Panam being complimentary.” Birgitta looked at Panam. “High praise.” Panam smiled. “It is.” Birgitta returned to breakfast. This was absurd. Not dangerous. Absurd. Mitch continued: “She doesn't talk much about herself.” Birgitta nodded thoughtfully. “Smart woman.” Panam looked at her. Birgitta took a drink. “What?” “Nothing.” Birgitta smiled. --- Mitch leaned back. “You'd probably like her.” Birgitta nearly laughed. She did not. Instead she looked at him. “Would I?” Panam considered. “Probably.” Birgitta looked at Panam. “Why?” Panam shrugged. “You're both…” She stopped. Birgitta waited. Mitch waited. Panam frowned. “Different.” Birgitta smiled. “Excellent.” “You know what I mean.” “No.” Panam pointed at her. “You're doing that on purpose.” “Yes.” Mitch laughed. Panam tried again. “You both know when to stop fucking around.” Birgitta's eyebrows rose. “Do I?” “Sometimes.” “Again, high praise.” “And you're both good at reading a situation.” Birgitta nodded. “Sounds questionable.” Mitch laughed. Panam looked at her. “Reyes is fine.” “I believe you.” “She's reliable.” “Better.” “Very good in a bad situation.” Birgitta took another drink. “Useful friend.” Panam's expression changed slightly. “Yeah.” There was real respect there. Birgitta knew it existed. Hearing Panam describe Reyes while holding Birgitta's hand beneath the table was something else entirely. Mitch said: “Quiet, though.” Panam nodded. “Usually.” Birgitta smiled. “Maybe I could help.” Panam stared. “With what?” “Conversation.” Mitch started laughing. Panam looked from him to Birgitta. “Oh, God.” “What?” “Nothing.” Birgitta smiled. “I'd probably like Reyes.” Panam nodded. “Probably.” Birgitta squeezed her hand. “Maybe someday.” Panam squeezed back. “Yeah.” Birgitta drank her coffee. Somewhere very deep inside, Reyes wanted to put her forehead on the table. Birgitta did not. --- The subject moved on. Just like that. No one stared at her. No one connected anything. Mitch complained about somebody borrowing a tool. Panam asked which tool. That became an argument about whether lending something indefinitely still counted as lending. Birgitta contributed the opinion that after six months it was inheritance. Mitch agreed. Panam did not. Normal. The moment disappeared into breakfast. Exactly where it belonged. --- Afterward, Birgitta carried the cups away. When she came back, Panam was standing beside the truck talking to Mitch. Birgitta approached. Panam saw her. Her face changed. Small. Automatic. A smile. Birgitta felt it somewhere inconveniently warm. Mitch noticed. Of course. Birgitta reached Panam. Panam's hand settled at her waist. “Ready?” “Yes.” Mitch looked at them. “You heading straight out?” “Pickup first,” Panam said. “Then west.” “Road should be clean.” “Should.” Mitch smiled. “Your favorite word.” “Fuck off.” Birgitta laughed. Mitch held out a hand to her. Birgitta looked at it. Then took it. “Good meeting you.” “You too.” “Come back sometime.” Panam looked at him. Mitch looked innocent. Birgitta smiled. “I'd like that.” Panam turned toward her. Birgitta raised an eyebrow. “What?” “Nothing.” “Bullshit.” Panam smiled. “Later.” Birgitta laughed. --- Not Steve appeared as they were about to leave. Naturally. Birgitta saw him coming. “Oh no.” Panam looked. “Don't.” The dog reached Birgitta. Sat. Birgitta looked down. “You have terrible timing.” Not Steve wagged. Birgitta crouched. Panam groaned. Mitch leaned against a nearby vehicle. “Steve likes you.” Birgitta scratched the dog's neck. “Not Steve has excellent taste.” “Steve.” “Not Steve.” Panam nodded. “Not Steve.” Mitch sighed. Birgitta stood. The dog looked disappointed. “Don't steal anything.” Not Steve wagged. “That is not a promise.” Birgitta kissed the top of his head. Panam stared. Birgitta looked at her. “What?” “You kissed the criminal.” “Yes.” “He stole your food.” “He's rehabilitated.” “He tried to steal breakfast.” “Allegedly.” Panam stared. Mitch started laughing. Birgitta climbed into the passenger seat. Panam shook her head and walked around the truck. --- She stopped before getting in. Looked back at Mitch. Something passed between them. Familiar. Simple. Panam nodded. Mitch nodded back. Then Panam got in. Closed the door. For a moment neither woman moved. Birgitta looked toward camp. Panam started the engine. “You okay?” Birgitta turned. “Yes.” Panam studied her. “You sure?” Birgitta smiled. “Very.” Panam nodded. Then Birgitta leaned across the cab. Panam met her halfway. The kiss was soft. Morning. No urgency. When they separated, Birgitta stayed close. “I liked it here.” Panam looked at her. “Yeah?” “Yes.” Panam smiled. “Good.” Birgitta touched her cheek. “And apparently I'm going to like Reyes.” Panam closed her eyes. “Oh, fuck.” Birgitta started laughing. “I hear she's competent.” “Don't.” “Reliable.” “Birgitta.” “Very good in a bad situation.” Panam caught the back of her neck. Pulled her in. Kissed her. Birgitta laughed into it. Panam pulled away. “Done?” Birgitta smiled. “For now.” “Menace.” Panam put the truck into gear. Birgitta settled into her seat. Her hand found Panam's. Panam took it. Outside, Mitch lifted one hand. Birgitta waved. Not Steve stood beside him. One ear up. One ear down. The truck began to move. Birgitta looked back once. Not because of cover risk. Not because Mitch knew Reyes. Not even because a large dusty criminal had stolen her food. Because she'd liked being there. Then camp slipped behind them. Panam squeezed her hand. Birgitta looked forward again. Morning road waited ahead. --- ## Chapter 21 — Back on the Road Camp disappeared slowly. Not all at once. First the people. Then the vehicles. Then the structures. Finally the last visible trace of it dropped behind the terrain. Birgitta watched until it was gone. Panam noticed. Of course. “Regretting leaving?” Birgitta turned. “No.” “Good.” “Why?” “We have work.” Birgitta smiled. “Romantic.” Panam squeezed her hand. They were still holding them between the seats. Had been since leaving. Birgitta looked down. Then at Panam. “You're doing it again.” “What?” “Pretending things are practical.” “They are practical.” “Of course.” Panam looked suspicious. Birgitta smiled. The truck rolled on. --- For almost fifteen minutes, Birgitta said nothing about camp. This was deliberate. Panam knew it. That made it better. Birgitta watched the road. Drank water. Checked the route notes. Panam drove. At minute sixteen, Panam sighed. Birgitta looked over. “What?” “Just say it.” “Say what?” “Whatever you've been waiting to say.” Birgitta's eyebrows rose. “I haven't been waiting to say anything.” “Bullshit.” Birgitta smiled. Panam looked ahead. “Sixteen minutes.” “You counted?” “No.” “Approximately?” Panam glanced at the clock. Birgitta laughed. “You counted.” “I knew you were going to start.” “Start what?” “This.” Birgitta leaned slightly closer. “Panam.” “No.” “You were nervous.” Panam sighed. “There it is.” Birgitta smiled. “You were.” “A little.” “More than a little.” “No.” “You rewrote a message three times.” “That doesn't mean anything.” “You asked me whether I was okay approximately forty-seven times.” “Three.” “Four.” “Three.” “You asked whether I still wanted to go before we entered camp.” “That's normal.” “You held my hand like I might escape.” Panam looked at her. “You held mine.” “Yes.” Panam paused. “That ruins your argument.” “No, it doesn't.” “Pretty sure.” Birgitta smiled. “Why were you nervous?” “I told you.” “No.” “Yes.” “You said they were your people.” “They are.” “That explains why it mattered.” Panam's expression changed. Birgitta continued: “Not why you were nervous.” Panam stared through the windshield. Birgitta waited. Panam knew she would. That was part of the problem. --- A kilometer passed. Then another. Birgitta didn't push. Her thumb moved slowly across Panam's knuckles. Panam's hand turned beneath hers. Their fingers linked again. Eventually Panam said: “I wanted them to like you.” Birgitta's smile gave her away. Panam immediately looked over. “Don't.” “I didn't say anything.” “Your face.” “My face is beautiful.” “Yes.” Birgitta blinked. Panam looked back at the road. Birgitta's smile changed. “That was smooth.” “Shut up.” “No.” Panam sighed. Birgitta squeezed her hand. “So.” “No.” “You wanted them to like me.” “Yes.” “Why?” Panam looked at her. “Seriously?” “Yes.” Panam's eyebrows rose. Birgitta waited. Panam shook her head. “Because I like you.” Simple. Direct. Birgitta felt it land anyway. Panam continued before she could answer. “And because they're important to me.” Birgitta nodded. “Yes.” “So I wanted…” Panam gestured with their joined hands. “This.” Birgitta looked at her. “This?” “You know what I mean.” “I do.” “Then don't make me explain it badly.” Birgitta laughed softly. “I won't.” Panam looked relieved. Birgitta leaned across and kissed her shoulder. “Thank you.” “For being nervous?” “For caring.” Panam's mouth tightened. Defensive tenderness again. Birgitta knew better than to poke it immediately. She gave Panam almost ten seconds. Then: “Adorable.” “Fuck you.” Birgitta laughed. --- Their first stop was fuel. Panam pulled in. Birgitta released her hand. Panam caught it again before she could open the door. Birgitta looked back. Panam leaned over. Kissed her. No audience that mattered. No reason except wanting to. Birgitta kissed her back. Panam's hand slid behind her neck. Birgitta smiled against her mouth. When they separated: “What was that for?” Panam shrugged. “Fuel.” Birgitta stared. “Fuel.” “Yes.” “That's your explanation.” “Yes.” Birgitta leaned in and kissed her again. Longer. Then pulled away. “Coffee.” Panam blinked. “What?” “Same logic.” Panam laughed. “Fine.” They got out. --- Birgitta fueled. Panam checked the truck. Roles weren't fixed. They simply happened. Birgitta watched the numbers climb. Panam walked around the vehicle. Tires. Underside. Cargo. Nothing wrong. When Birgitta finished, Panam was waiting with two coffees. Birgitta took hers. “Actual?” “Yes.” She tasted it. Looked at Panam. “Actual.” “I told you.” “After camp, standards needed restoration.” Panam took a drink. “Mitch's coffee wasn't that bad.” Birgitta stared. Panam held for two seconds. “Okay, it was bad.” “Thank you.” They stood beside the truck drinking. Birgitta leaned against Panam. Panam's arm came around her. No thought. No negotiation. A vehicle passed on the road. Dust moved. Birgitta looked down at her trousers. Still clean enough. “Lena may forgive me.” Panam followed her gaze. “She's never seeing those trousers.” Birgitta turned. “Excuse me?” “Evidence.” Birgitta laughed. “You're afraid of Lena.” “I respect Lena.” “You're afraid of Lena.” Panam kissed her temple. “Drink your coffee.” “Yes, boss.” --- Back in the truck, Birgitta checked the route. “Pickup in fifty-three.” “Yeah.” “Early.” “Eight minutes.” Birgitta looked at Panam. Panam smiled. “Learning.” “Our system.” “Our system.” Birgitta put the route notes down. For a while they drove quietly. Not empty quiet. Road quiet. The kind they had learned. Panam didn't need to fill it. Neither did Birgitta. Music played low. The landscape moved. Birgitta's hand rested on Panam's thigh now. Panam covered it occasionally. Then let go when she needed both hands. Then found it again. Birgitta thought about camp. Mitch. Not Steve. The cooling unit. People who had heard her name before meeting her. Panam humming without knowing. Panam asleep with the camp outside. Then something occurred to her. She smiled. Panam saw. “No.” Birgitta turned. “What?” “That face.” “I haven't said anything.” “Don't.” Birgitta tried. She really did. Almost five seconds. “You talk about me.” Panam groaned. “Fuck.” Birgitta laughed. “We already covered this.” “No, Mitch covered it.” “Traitor.” “He said my name comes up.” Panam stared ahead. “Sometimes.” “When Night City comes up.” “Apparently.” “When Sera comes up.” Panam looked over. Birgitta smiled. “Interesting.” “Don't make that weird.” “I'm not.” Panam watched her for half a second longer. Birgitta squeezed her thigh. “I'm really not.” Panam relaxed. Good. There was nothing weird about Sera. Not between them. Not in any direction. Birgitta continued: “I like that you talk about me.” Panam's expression changed. “You do?” “Yes.” “Why?” Birgitta shrugged. “Means I exist when I'm not there.” Panam went quiet. Birgitta realized what she'd said only after saying it. Not dangerous. Just more honest than expected. Panam's hand came off the wheel for a moment. Found hers. Held. “You do.” Birgitta looked at her. Panam looked ahead. “You exist when you're not there.” Birgitta smiled. “Good.” Panam squeezed her hand. “Yeah.” They let that stay. --- The pickup was easy. Eight minutes early became three because the client was ready ahead of schedule. Birgitta handled paperwork while Panam checked the load. Then Birgitta joined her. Panam pointed. “Rear left.” Birgitta checked. “Good.” “Seal?” “Good.” “Strap?” Birgitta pulled. “Good.” Panam nodded. Done. The client watched them. “You two do this together often?” Panam and Birgitta looked at each other. Birgitta smiled. Panam answered: “Enough.” Birgitta started laughing. Panam looked pleased with herself. The client looked confused. “Something funny?” “No,” Birgitta said. “Yes,” Panam said. Birgitta pointed at her. “Truck.” Panam laughed. They left. --- Twenty minutes later Birgitta said: “Enough.” Panam groaned. “Let it go.” “No.” “You started that.” “I did not.” “You said merc work.” “Because you asked.” “Enough.” Birgitta laughed. Panam reached across and squeezed her thigh. “Menace.” “Yes.” The answer came so easily Panam looked over. Birgitta smiled. “What?” “You admitted it.” “Temporary lapse.” “Too late.” Birgitta leaned closer. “Prove it.” Panam stared at her. Then at the road. Then back. “I'm driving.” “Coward.” “Alive.” “Romantic.” Panam laughed. Their old exchange. Already old. That surprised Birgitta. The week wasn't even over. And they already had things that belonged to it. Their system. Later. Actual coffee. Road. Enough. Not Steve. A big shower. Things that hadn't existed between them in quite the same way before Tuesday. Not beginnings. Additions. Birgitta liked that distinction. --- By afternoon, camp felt farther away. Not emotionally. Geographically. The road had reclaimed them. Work. Stops. Route. Water. Food. The next delivery. Panam was Panam again in the truck. Except she had never stopped being the woman Birgitta had watched in camp. That version had simply joined the others. Birgitta looked over. Panam caught her. “What?” “Nothing.” “Bullshit.” Birgitta smiled. “I like you.” Panam blinked. The directness worked beautifully. Birgitta watched her recover. “Yeah?” “Yes.” Panam's mouth curved. “Good.” Birgitta waited. Panam glanced at her. “What?” Birgitta raised an eyebrow. Panam laughed. “I like you too.” “Good.” “Needy.” “Correct.” Panam shook her head. Birgitta reached across and touched Panam's leg. Panam covered her hand. --- Near sunset they stopped briefly at an overlook that wasn't really an overlook. Just enough space off the road. Panam needed to check something at the rear. Birgitta followed. Cargo fine. Truck fine. Panam closed the door. Birgitta looked at the landscape. Panam came beside her. For a while they stood. Then Birgitta slipped her hand into Panam's. Panam took it. “I'm glad we went.” “To camp?” “Yes.” Panam nodded. “Me too.” Birgitta looked at her. “You're still relieved.” “A little.” “That they liked me.” “Yes.” Birgitta smiled. Panam looked suspicious. “No adorable.” “I wasn't going to.” “Bullshit.” Birgitta leaned into her. Panam put an arm around her waist. Birgitta rested her head against her shoulder. “You know what the annoying part is?” “What?” “I wanted them to like me too.” Panam looked down. Birgitta continued: “Before we got there, I thought I was mostly curious.” “And?” “I wasn't.” Panam smiled. “No?” “No.” Birgitta looked toward the road. “I knew they mattered to you.” Panam's arm tightened around her. “So they mattered.” Panam didn't answer immediately. Birgitta didn't need her to. Then Panam kissed the top of her head. “Yeah.” Birgitta smiled. They stayed another minute. Then Panam said: “Work.” Birgitta sighed. “Terrible.” “Truck.” “Worse.” “Food later.” Birgitta straightened. “Excellent.” Panam laughed. They walked back. At the passenger door, Birgitta stopped. Panam looked at her. “What?” Birgitta pulled her close. Kissed her. Panam's hands went automatically to her waist. When Birgitta released her: “Fuel.” Panam stared. Birgitta smiled. “Same logic.” Panam laughed. “Get in the truck.” “Yes, boss.” Birgitta climbed in. Her bag was where it belonged. Water where it belonged. Route notes where they belonged. Panam climbed into the driver's seat. Birgitta's hand found hers. That belonged too. The truck returned to the road. --- ## Chapter 22 — Their System By the next morning, nobody decided who did what. Panam pulled into the fuel stop. Birgitta got out. Panam looked at the pump. Then at her. “Coffee?” “Already going.” Birgitta closed the door. Panam smiled. That was it. No discussion. No list. Panam fueled. Birgitta crossed the lot. Two coffees. One breakfast that Panam would claim she wasn't hungry enough to need. One smaller thing for Birgitta. Water. Something for later. She returned while Panam was finishing the truck check. Panam saw the food. “I said coffee.” “No, you didn't.” “I was going to.” “You looked at the pump and then at me.” “That means coffee.” “I know.” Panam took the cup. Then looked at the food. “I'm not hungry.” Birgitta handed it to her. Panam took it. “Our system.” “Our system.” Panam ate half before they reached the road. Birgitta said nothing. That was part of the system too. --- At the first stop, Birgitta checked the load while Panam handled the contact. At the second, Panam checked the load while Birgitta handled the contact. Neither noticed the exchange until afterward. Birgitta climbed into the passenger seat. Panam handed her water. Birgitta took it. “Thank you.” “You haven't drunk enough.” Birgitta looked at the bottle. Then at Panam. “Have you?” Panam paused. Birgitta held out her hand. Panam sighed. Reached behind her seat. Produced her own bottle. Birgitta waited. Panam drank. “Happy?” “Yes.” “Bossy.” “Yes.” Panam started the truck. --- Birgitta's jacket had migrated. It no longer lived in her bag. It lived behind the passenger seat during the day. Panam's spare gloves had migrated too. One pair now occupied Birgitta's side pocket because she'd needed them twice. Nobody moved them back. The route notes changed hands constantly. So did pens. Birgitta had stopped asking which bottle was hers. Panam had stopped pretending she didn't know exactly which snacks Birgitta would choose first. At some point Panam had acquired one of Birgitta's hair ties. Birgitta discovered it around Panam's wrist. She stared. Panam noticed. “What?” “Is that mine?” Panam looked at her wrist. “No.” Birgitta raised an eyebrow. Panam inspected the hair tie. “Maybe.” “Thief.” “You left it in the truck.” “So?” “Salvage.” Birgitta reached for it. Panam pulled her hand away. “No.” Birgitta laughed. “Why do you need it?” “I don't.” “Then give it back.” “No.” “Why?” Panam looked at the road. “Mine.” Birgitta stared at her. Then smiled. Panam glanced over. “Don't.” “I didn't say anything.” “Your face.” Birgitta leaned across and kissed Panam's shoulder. “Keep it.” “I was going to.” “Of course.” --- By midday, Birgitta knew Panam's silence well enough to distinguish between four versions of it. Driving. Thinking. Irritated. Hungry. The last one was surprisingly obvious once identified. Panam became more efficient. Shorter. She stopped noticing she was hungry because whatever she was doing became more important than eating. Birgitta waited until the next safe stretch. Then opened the food compartment. Panam looked. “I'm fine.” Birgitta handed her something. Panam took it. “I hate you.” “No, you don't.” Panam ate. Birgitta smiled. Ten minutes later Panam said: “Your shoulder.” Birgitta looked at her. “What?” “You've been rolling it for twenty minutes.” Birgitta stopped. “I have not.” Panam looked at her. Birgitta rolled her shoulder. It hurt. Slightly. “Fuck.” “Break.” “We're fine.” “Break.” “Panam—” “Our system.” Birgitta stared. Panam smiled. Five minutes later they pulled off the road. --- Birgitta stretched beside the truck. Panam leaned against the door. “Better?” “Yes.” “Good.” “You're smug.” “Yes.” Birgitta walked over. Panam opened her arms without thinking. Birgitta stepped into them without thinking. That was another thing. There were no arrivals anymore. No moment when one decided to touch the other. They simply did. Birgitta rested her hands at Panam's waist. Panam's arms settled around her. Birgitta kissed her. Panam kissed back. Slow. Easy. When they separated, neither moved away. Birgitta looked up. “You know this isn't much of a break if you keep distracting me.” Panam smiled. “You started it.” “I walked over.” “Exactly.” Birgitta laughed. Panam kissed her forehead. “Shoulder?” “Better.” “Good.” They stayed another minute anyway. --- The motel that evening was almost identical to three others. Birgitta couldn't remember the name five minutes after entering. It didn't matter. Panam opened the door. Birgitta walked in. Bag left side of the dresser. Panam's bag right. Boots by the wall. Jackets over the chair. Panam plugged in both agents. Birgitta put both water bottles beside the bed. Neither discussed any of it. Panam went into the bathroom. Birgitta opened the route notes. Panam called: “Shower's acceptable.” “How acceptable?” “Medium.” Birgitta looked up. “Medium?” “Two people technically fit.” Birgitta smiled. Panam appeared in the doorway. “No.” “I didn't say anything.” “You were going to.” “Maybe.” “We need laundry.” Birgitta looked at the bag. “Yes.” “Before anything else.” “Responsible.” “Yes.” Birgitta stood. Panam's eyes followed her. Birgitta stopped. “Laundry.” “I know.” “Your face says otherwise.” Panam looked offended. “My face is innocent.” “Your face has never been innocent.” Panam smiled. “Laundry.” Birgitta walked past her. Panam caught her by the waist. Birgitta laughed. “Panam.” “What?” “Laundry.” Panam kissed the back of her neck. Birgitta leaned back against her. “This is not laundry.” “No.” “Our system is failing.” “Temporary maintenance.” Birgitta turned in her arms. Panam kissed her. Birgitta let it continue for several seconds. Then pushed gently against Panam's shoulders. “Laundry.” Panam sighed. “Fine.” Birgitta smiled. “Later.” Panam's eyes narrowed. “You're enjoying that word too much.” “Yes.” --- They did laundry. Actual laundry. Panam had one shirt that had reached the point where even she admitted it needed intervention. Birgitta held it up. “This could walk back to Night City without us.” “Fuck you.” “Possibly armed.” “Give me that.” Panam reached. Birgitta moved it away. Panam caught her around the waist. Birgitta laughed. The shirt fell. Panam kissed her neck. Birgitta grabbed the edge of the machine for balance. “Dirty trick.” “You started it.” “With laundry.” “Dangerous.” Birgitta turned. Panam's hands stayed at her hips. For a second it looked as though laundry might lose. Then the machine beeped. Both women looked at it. Birgitta started laughing. Panam stared. “Cockblocker.” “It's a washing machine.” “Still.” Birgitta kissed her. Then picked up the shirt. “Behave.” “No.” “Fair.” --- The bathroom belonged to both of them now. That realization arrived while Birgitta brushed her teeth. Panam stood beside her, washing her face. Not waiting. Not taking turns because the room was small. Just fitting. Birgitta moved left when Panam needed the sink. Panam reached around her for a towel. Birgitta handed it over before she found it. Panam took it. “Thanks.” Birgitta continued brushing. Panam stripped off her shirt. Birgitta watched in the mirror. Panam caught her. “What?” Birgitta shook her head. Panam smiled. Birgitta spat. “Nothing.” “Bullshit.” “You're attractive.” Panam blinked. Then laughed. “That's it?” “Yes.” “Okay.” Birgitta kissed her shoulder as she passed. No event. No escalation required. Just because she was there. --- Later, Birgitta lay across the bed with her legs over Panam's lap. Panam was reading tomorrow's route. Birgitta was answering a message. Panam's free hand rested on Birgitta's shin. Moved occasionally. Ankle. Calf. Back again. Birgitta barely noticed anymore. That was the point. She finished the message. Put the agent down. “What time?” “First contact eight-ten.” “Leave seven-twenty?” “Seven-fifteen.” “Why?” “Coffee.” Birgitta smiled. “Actual?” Panam looked at her. “Obviously.” “Our system.” Panam squeezed her ankle. “Our system.” Birgitta shifted. Her feet left Panam's lap. She moved up the bed. Panam kept reading. Birgitta rested her head against Panam's thigh. Panam's hand moved immediately into her hair. Birgitta closed her eyes. A few minutes passed. Then: “Birgitta.” “Mhm?” “You're falling asleep.” “No.” Panam's fingers moved through her hair. “You are.” “Maybe.” “Bathroom.” “Already.” “Water?” Birgitta opened one eye. Panam pointed. Bottle. Birgitta sighed. Sat up. Drank. Panam smiled. “I hate you.” “No, you don't.” Birgitta handed her the bottle. Panam drank too. “Bossy.” “Yes.” --- They slept close. Not deliberately. That distinction had disappeared. Birgitta started on her side. Panam behind her. At some point Panam moved. Birgitta moved with her. At another point Birgitta woke briefly with her face against Panam's chest. She didn't remember turning over. Panam's hand rested low on her back. Birgitta closed her eyes again. Morning found them tangled differently. Neither knew how. Neither cared. --- The next motel had a better bathroom. The next fuel stop had worse coffee. Panam fueled. Birgitta brought coffee. Birgitta checked seals. Panam bought water. Panam forgot food. Birgitta remembered. Birgitta forgot to stretch. Panam remembered. One of them opened the truck door. The other handed something through. One reached. The other already knew what for. At a route stop Panam spread the map across the hood. Birgitta came beside her. Panam's arm went around her waist while she pointed at the road with the other hand. Birgitta leaned into her. “Here?” “Yeah.” “Why not this?” “Fuel.” Birgitta looked. “Too far between reliable stops.” “Exactly.” Birgitta nodded. Panam kissed her temple. Neither paused. The route discussion continued. --- At another stop Birgitta came back from the restroom. Panam stood beside the truck. Waiting. Birgitta walked directly into her. Panam caught her. Kissed her. “Everything okay?” “Yes.” “Good.” Birgitta looked at her. “What?” Panam smiled. “Nothing.” Birgitta kissed her again. Then climbed into the truck. No beginning. No ending. Touch had become punctuation. --- Their clothes mixed. Not completely. Enough. Panam's shirt ended up over Birgitta's chair. Birgitta's socks somehow entered Panam's side of a bag. Panam used Birgitta's shampoo. Birgitta discovered this only because the bottle was open. She held it up. Panam looked from the bed. “What?” “You used this.” “Yes.” Birgitta stared. Panam waited. Birgitta put it down. “Fine.” Panam smiled. “What?” “Nothing.” “You expected me to complain?” “Little.” Birgitta took off her shirt. Panam watched. Birgitta smiled. “You've seen them.” “Yes.” “And?” “Still like them.” Birgitta laughed. She changed. Panam continued watching with absolutely no shame. Later Panam changed while Birgitta sat on the bed eating. Birgitta watched too. Fair was fair. No commentary needed. Their bodies had stopped requiring an occasion. --- It wasn't domestic. Not exactly. They didn't have a home here. They had a truck. Motel rooms. Fuel stops. Roadside food. Bags. Laundry machines. Bad coffee. Actual coffee. Cargo seals. Route notes. Water bottles. One hair tie that Panam still refused to return. Temporary things. But temporary did not mean unreal. By now, every motel room changed within five minutes of them entering. Two bags found their places. Boots found the wall. Agents found power. Water found the bedside. Clothes found chairs. Panam found the route. Birgitta found Panam. Or Panam found her. Usually both. The room became theirs. Then morning came. They packed it away. And rebuilt it somewhere else. --- That evening Panam sat on the bed removing her boots. Birgitta came out of the bathroom wearing only a shirt. Panam looked up. Her expression changed. Birgitta smiled. “Don't.” “I didn't say anything.” “Your face.” Panam held out one hand. Birgitta took it. Panam pulled. Birgitta stepped between her knees. Panam rested her forehead against Birgitta's stomach. Birgitta's fingers moved into her hair. Neither spoke. A few seconds. Then Panam wrapped both arms around her. Birgitta looked down. “Long day?” “Yeah.” Birgitta stroked her hair. “Hungry?” “Little.” “I saved you half.” Panam looked up. “Of yours?” “Yes.” Panam stared. Birgitta smiled. “I know.” “Who are you?” “Shut up.” Panam kissed her stomach through the shirt. Birgitta's hand stopped. Panam looked up again. Birgitta smiled. “Food first.” Panam groaned. “Our system.” “Our system.” Birgitta bent and kissed her. Then pulled away. Panam let her. Barely. They ate. Later they showered. Later still they kissed until the route notes were forgotten on the floor. Nothing about the evening required a chapter of its own. That was the strange, lovely part. It was simply another night. --- Before sleep, Birgitta reached for her water. Panam handed it to her first. Birgitta drank. Then handed Panam hers. Panam drank. Birgitta put both bottles back. Panam turned off the light. Darkness. Birgitta shifted closer. Panam's arm came around her. Automatic. Birgitta rested her hand against Panam's stomach. “Panam?” “Mhm?” Birgitta almost said it. This feels like home. She didn't. That wasn't right. Not yet. Not because it was too much. Because home wasn't the thing. The thing was smaller. More temporary. And somehow more precise. “This works.” Panam was quiet for a moment. Then her hand moved along Birgitta's back. “Yeah.” Birgitta smiled in the dark. Panam kissed her forehead. “Our system.” “Our system.” Tomorrow they would pack the room away again. The truck would carry the rest. And wherever they stopped next, they would build it again. --- ## Chapter 23 — Miles The road ran straight for almost forty kilometers. Panam hated it. Birgitta discovered this at kilometer twelve. “You're bored.” “No.” “You are.” “I'm driving.” “You can do both.” Panam looked at her. “Are you bored?” “No.” “Then why am I?” “Because you haven't had to swear at the road for twenty minutes.” Panam stared ahead. Birgitta smiled. A few seconds passed. “Road's shit.” Birgitta laughed. “There she is.” Panam squeezed Birgitta's thigh. “Menace.” “Yes.” The truck continued west. --- There were days when the road demanded conversation. Not because silence was uncomfortable. Because there was too much time for silence to remain the only thing. They had already talked about weather. Fuel. The next delivery. The truck. Coffee. Not Steve. Whether Mitch had deliberately introduced the dog at exactly the moment most likely to guarantee Birgitta's immediate surrender. Panam claimed no. Birgitta remained unconvinced. Then they had talked about nothing for almost an hour. Music low. Panam driving. Birgitta watching the landscape. Her hand occasionally on Panam's thigh. Panam's hand occasionally over hers. Eventually Panam said: “How'd you get into merc work?” Birgitta looked over. Panam kept her eyes on the road. “That's a bigger question than it sounds.” “Doesn't have to be.” Birgitta considered. The cover did not require her to be helpless. It didn't require her to invent an entire childhood. The best lies were usually built from truths that didn't need names. “Money first.” Panam nodded. “Usually is.” “Then I found out I was good at some things.” “What things?” “Staying calm.” Panam glanced at her. “Yeah.” “Reading a room.” “Definitely.” “Knowing when somebody is about to do something stupid.” Panam smiled. “Useful.” “Very.” Birgitta looked through the windshield. “Vehicles. Weapons. Security. Escort work. Retrieval sometimes.” “Team?” “Sometimes.” “Solo?” “Sometimes.” Panam nodded. No interrogation. No request for names. No list of old contracts. Just enough. Birgitta smiled. “What?” Panam looked over. “Nothing.” “You asked.” “I know.” “You're very disciplined.” Panam laughed. “Fuck you.” Birgitta squeezed her thigh. --- A few miles later Panam said: “You miss it?” “Merc work?” “Yeah.” Birgitta thought. “Some of it.” “What part?” “The clean part.” Panam looked amused. “Merc work has a clean part?” “Sometimes.” Birgitta adjusted in the seat. “When the job is clear. Something needs doing. You know what it is. You do it. Everybody goes home.” “And the other part?” “People.” Panam laughed. Birgitta smiled. “People make everything complicated.” “You work as a joytoy.” “Exactly.” Panam laughed harder. Birgitta waited until she stopped. Then: “I may have made a tactical error.” “Little.” “Fuck you.” Panam grinned. --- The next stop was barely a stop. Truck off the road. Cargo check. Water. Stretch. Panam walked around the rear. Birgitta followed. Everything held. Panam closed the cargo door. Birgitta leaned against it. Panam looked at her. “What?” “Nothing.” “Bullshit.” Birgitta smiled. “You like asking about me.” Panam shrugged. “Maybe.” “You're getting brave.” Panam stepped closer. “Should I stop?” “No.” Panam's hands settled at Birgitta's waist. Birgitta looked up. “Definitely not.” Panam kissed her. Birgitta's arms went around her neck. The kiss lasted. No hurry. When Panam pulled back, Birgitta stayed against her. “Your turn.” “My turn what?” “Question.” Birgitta considered. “Do you miss Night City?” Panam's expression suggested she hadn't expected that. “Sometimes.” “What part?” Panam looked toward the road. “People.” Birgitta smiled. “Complicated.” “Yeah.” “Sera?” Panam looked back. “Yeah.” No hesitation. Birgitta liked that. “Safehouse?” “Sometimes.” “Dakota?” “Yeah.” “Reyes?” Panam gave her a look. Birgitta smiled sweetly. “Apparently I like her.” Panam groaned. “Still doing that?” “Forever.” “Fuck.” Birgitta laughed. Panam kissed her once more. Then slapped her lightly on the hip. “Truck.” “Yes, boss.” --- Back on the road, Sera stayed in the conversation. Naturally. Panam talked about a message she'd received. Sera had apparently sent a picture of paint on her hand and refused to explain why it was also on her face. Birgitta laughed. “That sounds like her.” “Yeah.” “You ask?” “She said artistic process.” “Meaning?” “No fucking idea.” Birgitta smiled. She knew Sera differently. Not better. Different. She knew the way Sera watched people. The way she could become very still when something mattered. The way warmth lived close to the surface without making her soft. And she knew Sera with Panam. Very specifically. Panam glanced at her. “What?” Birgitta shook her head. “Thinking about the first time.” Panam's eyebrows rose. “Your first booking?” “Yes.” A smile appeared. “Oh.” Birgitta laughed. “That tone.” “What tone?” “You know exactly what tone.” Panam's smile widened. “I remember.” “I should hope so.” “You were terrifying.” Birgitta stared. “Excuse me?” “Not actually.” “Good.” “You walked in like you owned the room.” Birgitta smiled. “I was working.” “You were wearing—” Panam stopped. Birgitta waited. Panam looked over. “Never mind.” “No.” “Yes.” “What was I wearing?” “You know what you were wearing.” “I want to hear you say it.” Panam laughed. “No.” “Coward.” “Alive.” “Romantic.” Panam shook her head. --- Birgitta let the silence stretch. Then: “You and Sera made that easier.” Panam's smile faded into something warmer. “Yeah?” “Yes.” “How?” Birgitta thought about it. “You already trusted each other.” Panam nodded. “That mattered.” Birgitta looked out at the road. “I didn't have to manage jealousy. Or competition. Or somebody trying to prove they were more important.” “No.” “You both wanted to be there.” “Very much.” Birgitta laughed. “Yes. I noticed.” Panam grinned. “And you both wanted me there.” “Also very much.” Birgitta looked at her. Panam met her eyes briefly. Then road again. There was nothing difficult in the exchange. No tension around Sera. No need for Panam to reassure her. No need for Birgitta to claim territory that had never been threatened. Birgitta rested her hand on Panam's thigh. “I liked you together.” Panam covered her hand. “We like being together.” “I know.” “And you.” Birgitta looked over. Panam said it simply. “We like being with you.” Birgitta smiled. “I know.” Panam squeezed her hand. Good. --- Miles passed. The conversation wandered. From Sera to relationships. From relationships to the strange economics of intimacy. From that to Birgitta's work. Panam asked: “Do people usually want Birgitta?” Birgitta raised an eyebrow. “That sounds philosophical.” “You know what I mean.” “I do.” She thought. “Some do.” “Some?” “Some want a premium joytoy.” Panam nodded. “And Birgitta is the version they get.” “Yes.” “Difference?” Birgitta looked at her. “Big one.” Panam laughed. “Fuck you.” Birgitta smiled. “You walked into that.” “Fine. Explain.” Birgitta watched the landscape. “Some people want the price.” “Twenty-five thousand and one.” Birgitta turned. Panam smiled. “You remember.” “Hard number to forget.” “Good.” Panam waited. Birgitta continued. “Some want the idea. Expensive woman. Difficult to book. Something they can say they had.” Panam's mouth tightened slightly. Birgitta noticed. “It's work.” “I know.” “No rescue required.” “I know.” Birgitta smiled. “Good.” Panam nodded. “What about the others?” “They want me.” “Birgitta.” “Yes.” Panam considered that. “How can you tell?” Birgitta laughed softly. “Usually?” “Yeah.” “About five minutes.” “That fast?” “People aren't subtle.” “You are.” “I'm paid to be.” Panam smiled. --- Birgitta shifted her hand higher on Panam's thigh. Not enough to distract. Enough to be felt. Panam glanced at her. Birgitta looked innocent. Panam returned her eyes to the road. “So which was I?” Birgitta's smile disappeared. Not from discomfort. Because the question deserved an answer. “You?” “Yeah.” “You wanted Birgitta.” Panam was quiet. Birgitta continued. “Not the price.” “Good.” “Not the status.” “Definitely not.” “Not even really the booking.” Panam glanced over. “No?” Birgitta shook her head. “You wanted the woman who walked into the room.” Panam's hand covered hers. “Yeah.” Birgitta smiled. “I knew.” “When?” “Fast.” “Five minutes?” “Less.” Panam laughed quietly. “Fuck.” “Sera was faster.” Panam looked over. “No way.” Birgitta's smile widened. “Much.” “Bullshit.” “She looked at me once.” “That's Sera.” “Yes.” Panam shook her head. “Traitor.” “She wasn't subtle.” “She thinks she is.” “No.” They laughed. --- The road narrowed. Conversation paused. Panam needed both hands. Birgitta watched terrain. The truck climbed. Dropped. Turned. For twenty minutes the road mattered again. Then it widened. Panam relaxed. Birgitta's hand returned to her thigh. Panam said: “Does it bother you?” “What?” “That I met you like that.” Birgitta understood. “No.” “Ever?” “No.” Panam waited. Birgitta smiled. “You're trying very hard to find a problem.” “I'm asking.” “I know.” She looked at Panam. “You didn't buy me.” Panam's jaw tightened. “I paid.” “Yes.” “For your time.” “Yes.” Birgitta squeezed her thigh. “Then you asked for more time when you weren't paying.” Panam looked over. Birgitta smiled. “I said yes.” Panam relaxed. “Okay.” “And now I'm in your truck.” “Yeah.” “Wearing Lena's criminal trousers.” Panam laughed. “Very criminal.” “Eating your food.” “My food?” “Sometimes.” “Most of the time.” “Sleeping in terrible motels.” “With me.” Birgitta smiled. “With you.” Panam's hand found hers. Birgitta threaded their fingers. “No problem.” --- They drove another hour. Maybe more. Time became road. At one point Birgitta put her feet up. Panam immediately said: “Down.” Birgitta sighed. “Coward.” “Alive.” “Romantic.” “Every time.” “Yes.” Birgitta put her feet down. Panam kissed her knuckles. “Thank you.” “You're manipulative.” “Yes.” Birgitta smiled. --- The motel arrived after dark. Not terrible. Not memorable. Perfect. They entered. The room assembled itself around them. Bags. Boots. Water. Agents. Jackets. Panam checked tomorrow's route. Birgitta checked messages. Neither needed to ask what came next. They ate first. Because their system had rules. Panam showered. Birgitta showered. The bathroom was too small for both. Panam declared this a design failure. Birgitta agreed. Then they sat on the bed. Panam against the headboard. Birgitta beside her. The conversation had not quite ended. It had simply waited. Panam looked at Birgitta. “Can I ask one more?” Birgitta smiled. “You've asked about fifty.” “One more.” “Yes.” Panam hesitated. “What part is work?” Birgitta looked at her. Panam clarified: “Of Birgitta.” Ah. Birgitta leaned back against the wall. “Depends.” “On?” “The client.” Panam nodded. “The way you talk?” “Mine.” “All of it?” Birgitta smiled. “Work gives me an excuse to turn the brightness up.” Panam smiled too. “I noticed.” “The flirting?” “Also mine.” “All of it?” “I can turn that up too.” “I definitely noticed.” “The clothes are work.” “Very good work.” Birgitta laughed. “Lena would appreciate that.” “Don't tell her.” “I absolutely will.” Panam groaned. Birgitta continued: “The confidence is mine.” “Yeah.” “The eye contact.” “Yours?” “Yes.” “The shamelessness?” Birgitta smiled. “Very mine.” Panam laughed. “I knew it.” “The name is work.” Panam's smile faded slightly. Birgitta noticed. Panam asked: “And the rest?” Birgitta looked at her. “What rest?” “This.” Panam gestured between them. The motel. The week. The truck. Camp. Morning. Road. Birgitta understood. She shifted closer. “That isn't work.” Panam's eyes stayed on hers. “No?” “No.” Birgitta touched her face. “None of it.” Panam leaned into her hand. Birgitta smiled. “The woman in your truck is me.” Panam's hand settled over Birgitta's wrist. “The woman who stole your food is me.” “My food.” “Yes.” “The woman who likes Not Steve is me.” “Bad judgment.” “Still me.” Panam smiled. “The woman who slept beside you at camp.” Panam's expression softened. Birgitta moved closer. “Me.” Panam's other hand came to her waist. Birgitta kissed her. Soft. Then pulled back. “And the joytoy?” Panam asked quietly. Birgitta smiled. “Also me.” There. No compartments. Not for Panam. Panam looked at her for a long moment. Then: “Good.” Birgitta laughed softly. “That's all?” “What do you want?” “Something dramatic.” Panam considered. “No.” “Coward.” Panam kissed her. --- The kiss changed slowly. Not because anything had been decided. Nothing needed deciding. Birgitta moved closer. Panam's hand slipped beneath her shirt. Familiar skin. Familiar response. Birgitta's fingers went into Panam's hair. Panam kissed her jaw. Her neck. Birgitta closed her eyes. The conversation remained between them. Not as tension. As history. Panam had met Birgitta through work. Had touched her first with Sera there. Had paid for time. Had later asked for time that wasn't for sale. Had worried she'd done it wrong. Had learned mornings. Had wanted another. Now there had been several. Road mornings. Motel mornings. A camp morning. No invoice. No clock. No role to maintain. Only Birgitta. Still Birgitta. Birgitta pulled Panam closer. Panam looked at her. “Yeah?” “Yes.” Panam kissed her again. --- They took their time. Clothes moved without ceremony. Panam's shirt landed near the route notes. Birgitta's trousers joined it. Panam laughed. “What?” Birgitta followed her gaze. “The trousers.” “What about them?” “Lena.” Birgitta laughed too. “She'll never know.” “She always knows.” “Terrifying.” “Yes.” Panam kissed her shoulder. Birgitta's laughter faded into a quieter breath. Hands moved. Already educated. Already familiar. There was no need to discover. Only to choose. Again. And again. Birgitta touched Panam's face. Panam stopped. Looked at her. Birgitta smiled. “Don't stop.” Panam didn't. Sex followed as naturally as the conversation had. Birgitta's first response was a low, involuntary laugh against Panam's mouth—recognition rather than surprise. Panam smiled into the kiss and held still for a beat. Birgitta drew her closer. The conversation stayed inside the way they touched: no performance, no compartment, nothing to prove. Pleasure built slowly enough that neither had to abandon the tenderness to reach it. --- Later, neither woman knew exactly where the blanket had gone. Birgitta found part of it beneath her leg. Pulled. Panam protested. “You have all of it.” “I have six centimeters.” “Liar.” Birgitta pulled harder. Panam rolled toward her. The blanket came free. So did Panam. Birgitta laughed as Panam landed partly on top of her. “Problem solved.” “You did that deliberately.” “Yes.” Panam kissed her. Birgitta wrapped the blanket around both of them. For a while they stayed there. Warm. Breathing slowing. Panam's head against Birgitta's shoulder. Birgitta's fingers tracing absent shapes along her back. No hurry toward sleep. The conversation returned because apparently it wasn't finished. Panam said: “You know what's weird?” “Many things.” “About this.” Birgitta waited. “I don't think about the booking anymore.” Birgitta's hand paused. Panam continued: “I remember it.” “Good.” Panam smiled against her. “Very good.” Birgitta laughed. “But it doesn't feel like where this came from.” Birgitta understood. “What does?” Panam was quiet. Then: “I don't know.” Birgitta resumed tracing her back. “Maybe it doesn't need one.” Panam lifted her head. Birgitta looked at her. “We don't need an origin story.” Panam smiled. “No?” “No.” “We have one.” “We have several.” Panam considered. “First booking.” “First message.” “First date.” “First morning.” “Second morning.” “First motel.” “First stolen food.” “That was you.” “You steal mine.” “Not Steve stole mine.” “Criminal.” “Adorable criminal.” “No.” Birgitta laughed. Panam settled down again. Birgitta kissed her hair. After a while Panam said: “First road week.” Birgitta's smile softened. “Yes.” That one stayed. --- The room was quiet. Panam's breathing gradually slowed. Birgitta remained awake. Not because anything was wrong. She thought about the question. What part is work? There was an answer Panam hadn't asked for. Road Birgitta. Joytoy Birgitta. The woman who had walked into a premium booking and known exactly what she was doing. The woman who had stood in dust beside Panam's truck. The woman who had laughed beneath a motel shower. The woman Mitch had met. The woman Not Steve had robbed. The woman lying here now. There weren't several women. There had never been. Different circumstances brought different things forward. That was all. Panam shifted closer in her sleep. Birgitta smiled. Her hand settled at Panam's waist. Tomorrow, the road would ask for another version. Professional. Tired. Flirtatious. Quiet. Whatever fit. Panam would see it. And, increasingly, Birgitta thought Panam would simply call all of it Birgitta. That felt right. Birgitta closed her eyes. Outside, trucks passed occasionally on the distant road. Inside, Panam slept against her. Miles behind them. Miles ahead. And no useful line left between the woman Panam had hired and the woman Panam now held without thinking. --- ## Chapter 24 — Day Five Day five began with bad coffee. Not mediocre coffee. Not camp coffee. Bad coffee. Birgitta took one drink. Stopped. Looked at the cup. Panam watched. “Well?” Birgitta swallowed carefully. “I think it knows what it did.” Panam tasted hers. Her face changed. Birgitta nodded. “Yes.” Panam looked toward the machine. “You.” The machine remained indifferent. Birgitta leaned against the truck. “Don't start a fight.” “It started it.” “We have work.” Panam looked offended. “Whose side are you on?” “Mine.” “Of course.” Birgitta smiled. Panam took another drink. Immediately regretted it. “Why did I do that?” “Hope.” “Stupid.” “Yes.” Panam threw the cup away. Birgitta followed. “Our system requires actual coffee.” “Our system has failed.” “Temporary.” Panam opened the driver's door. “Twenty minutes.” Birgitta looked at the route. “Twenty-three.” Panam stared. Birgitta smiled. “Coffee.” Panam considered. “Fine.” --- Actual coffee took twenty-six minutes. Neither mentioned it. The first delivery went well. The second did not. Not dangerously. Just badly. The client wasn't ready. Then claimed they were. Then discovered they weren't. Then somebody needed a signature from someone who had apparently gone to another site without telling anybody. Panam stood beside the truck with her arms folded. Birgitta leaned against the door. A man disappeared inside for the third time. Panam said: “If he comes back and says five minutes again, I'm leaving.” Birgitta looked at the time. “We can't.” “I know.” “That makes the threat less effective.” “I know.” Birgitta smiled. Panam did not. That was the first sign. --- The second sign came forty minutes later. They finally unloaded. Paperwork arrived. Wrong paperwork. Birgitta caught it. Panam looked. “That's the old manifest.” “I know.” “Why'd you sign it?” Birgitta looked at her. “I didn't.” Panam stopped. The client stood two meters away holding a pen. Birgitta pointed. “That's why he still has the pen.” Panam closed her eyes. “Right.” The client looked between them. Birgitta smiled brightly. “Updated manifest, please.” He left. Again. Panam exhaled. Birgitta looked at her. “Tired?” “No.” Birgitta raised an eyebrow. Panam looked away. “Little.” “Thought so.” “Don't.” Birgitta's smile disappeared. “Don't what?” “Do the reading-people thing.” There. Small. Sharp. Panam heard it too. Birgitta went still. Not dramatically. Enough. “Okay.” Panam looked at her. Birgitta looked toward the building. The client returned with the correct paperwork. Birgitta checked it. Signed. Panam checked the load space. They left. --- For fifteen minutes, the truck was quiet. Not road quiet. Different. Birgitta knew the difference now. So did Panam. Birgitta watched the landscape. Panam drove. Neither touched the other. That was unusual enough to have weight. Panam finally said: “I didn't mean it like that.” Birgitta looked over. “How did you mean it?” Panam opened her mouth. Closed it. “I'm tired.” “I know.” Panam's jaw tightened. Birgitta almost smiled. Didn't. Panam noticed. “See?” Birgitta looked at her. “What?” “You know.” “Yes.” “That's annoying.” Birgitta stared. Panam immediately said: “Fuck.” “Excellent recovery.” “I know.” Birgitta looked out the window again. Panam drove. --- The problem wasn't serious. That made it more irritating. If Panam had actually said something cruel, Birgitta could have answered it. If Birgitta had actually done something wrong, Panam could have named it. Instead they had fatigue. A bad client. Bad coffee. Too little sleep. Several long days. And Panam being annoyed that Birgitta could see she was annoyed. Wonderful. Birgitta folded her arms. Panam glanced over. “Don't do that.” Birgitta turned. “Do what?” “That.” “This?” “The arms.” Birgitta stared at her. Panam stared ahead. Birgitta unfolded them. Put her hands deliberately in her lap. “Better?” “No.” “Good.” Panam sighed. --- They reached the next fuel stop. Panam pulled in. Killed the engine. Neither moved. Birgitta looked through the windshield. Panam rubbed both hands over her face. Then: “Fuck.” Birgitta waited. Panam looked at her. “I'm being an asshole.” “Yes.” “Thanks.” “You asked.” “I didn't.” “You announced.” Panam almost smiled. Almost. Birgitta saw. Panam saw her seeing. “Don't.” Birgitta looked away. That made Panam sigh again. “No. Fuck. Not that either.” Birgitta turned back. “What do you want me to do?” “I don't know.” “Then stop telling me what not to do.” Panam's expression hardened. “For fuck's sake, Birgitta.” Birgitta's did too. “What?” “Nothing.” “No. Go ahead.” Panam looked at her. Then shook her head. “No.” Birgitta reached for the door. “Fine.” Panam reached too. Their hands hit the handle together. Both stopped. Birgitta looked down. Panam looked at their hands. Neither moved. The absurdity arrived first. Birgitta's mouth twitched. Panam saw it. Her own did the same. Birgitta looked at her. Panam exhaled through her nose. “Fuck.” Birgitta laughed once. Small. Panam did too. Not fixed. But cracked open. Birgitta moved her hand. Panam caught it before it left. Just held it. Birgitta looked at their fingers. Then at Panam. Panam's thumb moved once across her knuckles. “I'm tired.” “I know.” Panam gave her a look. Birgitta smiled slightly. “Sorry.” Panam's mouth twitched. “I'm tired too.” “I know.” Birgitta stared. Panam smiled. “Sorry.” There. Better. --- They got out. Panam fueled. Birgitta went inside. No instruction. No discussion. She returned with two coffees. Panam was checking the truck. Birgitta waited. Panam finished. Came over. Birgitta held out one cup. Panam looked at it. “Peace offering?” “Coffee.” Panam took it. “Same thing.” Birgitta smiled. “Maybe.” Panam drank. Closed her eyes. “Actual.” “Actual.” Birgitta leaned against the truck. Panam leaned beside her. Their shoulders touched. That was all. For almost a minute. Then Panam's little finger hooked Birgitta's. Birgitta looked down. Panam kept drinking. Birgitta hooked back. No speech. No analysis. The connection returned before the explanation did. Exactly right. --- Panam finished half the cup. “I shouldn't have snapped at you.” Birgitta nodded. “No.” “You weren't doing anything.” “I was reading you.” “You always read me.” “Yes.” Panam looked at her. “That's not actually the problem.” “No.” “I just didn't want to be readable.” Birgitta considered. “Why?” Panam shrugged. “Tired.” Birgitta waited. Panam sighed. “And because you notice when I'm not doing great before I decide I'm not doing great.” Birgitta smiled. Panam pointed at her. “See?” “Sorry.” “You're not.” “No.” Panam laughed. There. Birgitta took a drink. “Do you want me to stop?” Panam's expression changed. “Reading you?” “Yes.” “No.” Birgitta nodded. “Okay.” Panam bumped her shoulder. “But sometimes let me be stupid for five minutes.” Birgitta thought. “Three.” Panam stared. “Four.” “Three and a half.” “Deal.” Birgitta held out her hand. Panam looked at it. Then took it. They shook. Panam pulled instead of releasing. Birgitta stumbled half a step closer. Panam's other hand settled at her waist. Birgitta looked up. “That was dishonest.” “Yes.” Panam kissed her. Brief. Warm. Not sexual. Not an escape from the conversation. Just contact. Birgitta kissed her back. When they separated, Panam rested her forehead against Birgitta's. “Better?” Birgitta smiled. “Yes.” “Good.” “You?” “Yeah.” Birgitta kissed the corner of her mouth. “Good.” --- They ate before leaving. That helped too. Panam had been hungry. Birgitta had been hungry. Neither had noticed. Which was an embarrassing failure of their system. Birgitta pointed this out. Panam told her to shut up. Affectionately this time. Birgitta stole one of Panam's fries. Panam slapped her hand. Birgitta stole another. Normal returned. Not perfectly. Better than perfectly. Honestly. --- The afternoon was work. They needed that. A clean pickup. A straightforward road. A client who was ready when they arrived. Panam handled paperwork. Birgitta checked the load. They switched without noticing. At one stop Birgitta handed Panam water. Panam drank without protest. Later Panam put food in Birgitta's hand. Birgitta ate without comment. The system recalibrated. --- The road deteriorated near evening. Nothing dangerous. Enough that Panam needed concentration. Birgitta watched the right side. Called the bad sections. Panam listened. No friction. No residue. At one point the truck dropped hard into a rut. Birgitta caught the grab handle. “Fuck.” Panam looked over. “You okay?” “Yes.” Panam's hand touched Birgitta's knee. Quick. Automatic. Then back to the wheel. That touch meant more than another apology would have. Birgitta smiled. Panam caught it. “What?” “Nothing.” Panam looked suspicious. Birgitta raised both hands. “Three and a half minutes.” Panam laughed. “Asshole.” “Yes.” --- They reached the motel late. Both tired. Neither interested in pretending otherwise. Panam opened the door. Birgitta walked in. Bags. Boots. Agents. Water. Their temporary room assembled itself. Panam sat on the bed. Birgitta looked at her. Panam pointed. “Three and a half.” Birgitta laughed. “Granted.” Panam fell backward. Birgitta took off her boots. Put them by the wall. Then Panam's. Panam lifted her head. “You don't have to do that.” “I know.” Panam watched her. Birgitta took off her jacket. Panam held out one hand. Birgitta looked at it. Walked over. Took it. Panam pulled her down. Not into sex. Onto the bed. Birgitta landed beside her. Panam rolled toward her. Put an arm across her waist. Birgitta moved closer. For a while neither spoke. --- Eventually Birgitta said: “Food.” Panam groaned. “Yes.” “Shower.” “Yes.” “Route.” “Fuck the route.” Birgitta laughed. “Tomorrow morning?” “Yes.” “Dangerous.” “I know.” Birgitta touched Panam's face. “You really are tired.” Panam kissed her palm. “Yeah.” Birgitta smiled. “Me too.” Panam looked at her. “Good.” Birgitta raised an eyebrow. “Good?” “Means you're not secretly indestructible.” “Disappointed?” “Little.” Birgitta laughed. Panam smiled. Then kissed her. Slow. No escalation. No expectation that it had to become anything else. Birgitta's hand rested against Panam's neck. When they separated, Panam stayed close. “We okay?” Birgitta looked at her. “Yes.” Panam nodded. “Okay.” Birgitta kissed her once. “We were okay at the fuel stop.” “I know.” “You're checking.” “Yes.” Birgitta smiled. “Good.” --- They ate sitting on the bed. Panam nearly fell asleep halfway through. Birgitta took the container from her hand. Panam protested. Weakly. “You're done.” “I was eating.” “You were holding food while unconscious.” “I was thinking.” “With your eyes closed?” “Yes.” Birgitta put the food aside. “Shower.” Panam groaned. “Cruel.” “You smell like road.” Panam opened one eye. “You like road.” Birgitta smiled. “Unfortunately.” Panam laughed. There. Completely back. --- Later, clean and exhausted, they climbed into bed. No sex. Neither needed it. Panam turned toward Birgitta. Birgitta moved into her arms. The position happened without thought. Panam's hand settled low on her back. Birgitta's leg slid between hers. Familiar. Warm. Panam kissed her forehead. Birgitta closed her eyes. “Day five.” Panam made a quiet sound. “Mhm.” “We survived our first stupid argument.” “That was an argument?” “Tiny one.” “Shit argument.” “Very.” “Need better one next time.” Birgitta opened her eyes. “Next time?” Panam's eyes were already closed. “Not tomorrow.” Birgitta smiled. “No.” “Too tired.” “Sleep.” Panam pulled her closer. Birgitta closed her eyes again. A minute later: “Birgitta?” “Mhm?” “Coffee was good.” Birgitta smiled into the dark. “Peace offering.” Panam's hand moved once along her back. “Same thing.” Then she slept. Birgitta followed soon after. The day hadn't made them stronger. It hadn't needed to. It had simply proved their system could survive two tired women being mildly annoying. For day five, that was enough. --- ## Chapter 25 — Big One, Again The motel looked worse from outside. Birgitta studied it through the windshield. Panam killed the engine. “No.” Panam looked at her. “What?” “The sign is missing three letters.” “Two.” Birgitta pointed. “Three.” Panam squinted. “Okay. Three.” “One window has cardboard in it.” “Not ours.” “How do you know?” “I checked the room.” Birgitta turned. “When?” “While you were dealing with the client.” Birgitta narrowed her eyes. Panam smiled. “Efficient.” “Suspicious.” “Come on.” They got out. The day had been long without being bad. Better than yesterday. No stupid arguments. No paperwork disasters. One delayed pickup. One client who actually apologized. One stretch of road that Panam had described as fine and Birgitta had described as attempted murder. Normal. Their system had worked. Now Birgitta wanted food, water, a shower and Panam. The order remained negotiable. --- The room was better than the building deserved. One bed. Clean. A chair that appeared structurally trustworthy. Small table. No visible biological experiments in the carpet. Birgitta put her bag down. Left side of the dresser. Panam's went right. Boots. Jackets. Agents. Water. Automatic. Birgitta looked around. “Acceptable.” “Told you.” “You didn't.” “I implied.” Panam disappeared into the bathroom. Birgitta opened her bag. Pulled out clean clothes. She heard the shower door move. Silence. Then Panam appeared in the doorway. Her expression was carefully neutral. Birgitta looked at her. Panam spread her hands. “Big one.” Birgitta immediately started taking off her jacket. Panam stared. Birgitta dropped it over the chair. “What?” “Nothing.” Birgitta started unfastening her trousers. Panam laughed. “Not even going to look?” “You looked.” “I could be lying.” Birgitta paused. Looked at her. “Are you?” “No.” Birgitta continued. “Then why would I look?” Panam leaned against the doorway. “This is getting dangerously efficient.” “Our system.” “Our system.” Birgitta pulled her shirt over her head. Panam's eyes followed. Birgitta smiled. “You joining me?” “Yes.” “Then stop sightseeing.” Panam laughed. --- The shower was, in fact, big. Not luxurious. Not beautiful. But large enough for both of them without negotiating elbows. At this point, that qualified as premium accommodation. Birgitta stepped under the water. Cold. “Fuck!” Panam laughed from outside. “You didn't test it?” Birgitta turned. “You knew.” “Maybe.” “You bitch.” Panam stepped in. Birgitta immediately moved the spray toward her. Panam jumped. “Fuck!” Birgitta smiled. “Justice.” “Asshole.” “Yes.” Panam reached for her. Birgitta moved away. Panam caught her around the waist. Birgitta laughed. “Let go.” “No.” “Water.” “You started it.” Panam dragged her under the spray with her. Both complained. Both laughed. Then the water warmed. The fight ended. --- Practical first. It had become the rule without ever becoming a rule. Road out of hair. Dust off skin. Soap. Shampoo. Birgitta turned her back. Panam washed her hair. No question. Birgitta closed her eyes. Panam's fingers worked slowly through the smoked copper-grey strands. Birgitta leaned back slightly. “Good?” “Mhm.” Panam smiled. Birgitta could hear it. “Smug.” “Yes.” Panam rinsed her hair. Birgitta turned. “My turn.” Panam surrendered the shampoo. Birgitta worked it through her hair. Panam closed her eyes. There was something absurdly intimate about knowing how much pressure another person liked against their scalp. Not erotic. Not necessarily. Just learned. Birgitta knew. Panam knew she knew. That was enough. --- Birgitta rinsed Panam's hair. Panam opened her eyes. “Thanks.” Birgitta kissed her. Quick. “You're welcome.” Then reached for the soap. Panam took it first. “I've got you.” Birgitta raised her arms slightly. “Professional service?” “Very.” “Expensive?” “Twenty-five thousand and two.” Birgitta stared. Panam smiled. “Inflation.” “You're stealing my pricing model.” “Yes.” Birgitta laughed. Panam washed her shoulders. Arms. Back. Practical. Mostly. Then Panam's hands reached Birgitta's waist. Slowed. Birgitta looked over her shoulder. Panam looked innocent. “Professional.” “Of course.” Panam's hands moved lower. Birgitta turned. “Very professional.” “Yes.” Birgitta took the soap from her. “My turn.” Panam smiled. --- The difference from the first big shower wasn't that they knew what might happen. They had known then too. The difference was that now neither bothered pretending the transition required discovery. Birgitta washed Panam's back. Her hands slowed. Panam leaned into them. Birgitta pressed her thumbs into tired muscle. Panam exhaled. “There.” Birgitta smiled. “Here?” “Yes.” She worked the spot. Panam's head lowered. “Fuck.” “Good?” “Very.” Birgitta continued. Panam reached back. Found Birgitta's thigh. Rested her hand there. Nothing changed. Then everything changed gradually. Birgitta moved closer. Her body against Panam's back. Panam's hand shifted. Birgitta kissed her shoulder. Panam turned. No question yet. No need. They kissed. Familiar. Warm water around them. Panam's hands went to Birgitta's waist. Birgitta's settled at her neck. The kiss deepened. Panam moved Birgitta backward. Birgitta went. Warm tile met her shoulders. Panam stopped. Looked at her. There. The question didn't need words. Birgitta smiled. Pulled her closer. “Yes.” Panam kissed her again. --- They knew each other now. Not completely. That would have been a ridiculous claim. But enough. Panam knew the shift in Birgitta's breathing. Birgitta knew the pressure of Panam's hands before it changed. They knew when teasing worked. When it didn't belong. When to slow. When not to. Small corrections happened without embarrassment. A hand guided. A body followed. A quiet sound answered. Choice remained present without becoming administration. Birgitta laughed once when Panam nearly slipped. Panam stared. “You laugh and I leave.” “You're naked.” “I'll leave naked.” “Coward.” Panam kissed her hard enough to end the argument. Birgitta smiled into it. Better. The laughter disappeared slowly. The warmth didn't. --- Later arrived without either of them calling it that. Sex began without ceremony. The transition was small because familiarity had made it small, not invisible. Panam paused at the change, eyes on Birgitta. Birgitta's hands tightened at her shoulders. Her breath caught into a smile. “Don't stop.” Panam didn't. The shower continued around them. Warm water. Tile. Breath. Familiar hands. Bodies already fluent enough that nothing needed explanation beyond the answers they gave each other. Birgitta knew the instant Panam recognized what she wanted; Panam knew the instant Birgitta stopped thinking about anything except her. The motel disappeared for a while. So did the road. --- Afterward, neither moved. That part had become important too. Birgitta stayed against the tile. Panam against her. Foreheads touching. Breathing slowing. Water moving over both of them. Panam's hands rested at Birgitta's waist. Birgitta's arms remained around her neck. Stillness. No joke yet. No route. No clock. Just the few seconds after. Then a few more. Birgitta closed her eyes. Panam kissed her forehead. Birgitta smiled. “Big one.” Panam laughed quietly. “Big one.” --- The water began to cool. Birgitta noticed first. “No.” Panam lifted her head. “What?” “It's happening.” Panam tested the water. “Fuck.” “Betrayal.” “We used all the hot water.” “Impossible.” “We've been in here forever.” Birgitta looked at her. “Worth it.” Panam smiled. “Yeah.” The water cooled another degree. Birgitta shivered. Panam stepped away. “Out.” “Coward.” “Alive.” “Romantic.” “Cold.” Birgitta laughed. They escaped. --- There were two towels. Both normal. Birgitta stared. Panam came up behind her. “What?” “Luxury.” Panam looked. “Holy shit.” Birgitta handed her one. Panam took it. “No tiny towel.” “We're moving in.” “No.” “Think about it.” “No.” “Two normal towels.” Panam dried her face. “Tempting.” Birgitta laughed. --- They moved around the room naked for several minutes because neither had any reason not to. Birgitta dried her hair. Panam checked the laundry bag. Birgitta plugged in the hair dryer. Panam found clean clothes. No awkwardness. No performance. At one point Panam walked behind Birgitta and kissed her bare shoulder. Birgitta smiled at the mirror. Panam kept walking. That was all. Birgitta finished drying her hair. Turned. Panam was pulling on underwear. Birgitta watched. Panam caught her. “Eyes up.” “No.” Panam laughed. “Fair.” --- Laundry again. Less desperate this time. They had learned. Panam sorted. Birgitta checked pockets. She pulled something from Panam's trousers. Held it up. Her hair tie. Panam looked. Birgitta looked at Panam. “You put this in your pocket.” “Apparently.” “You still have it.” “Yes.” Birgitta held it toward her. Panam took it. Put it around her wrist again. Birgitta stared. Panam smiled. “What?” “Nothing.” “Bullshit.” Birgitta stepped closer. Kissed her. “Keep it.” Panam looked at the hair tie. Then at Birgitta. “Was going to.” “I know.” --- Dinner came after laundry started. They ate on the bed. Panam in a shirt and underwear. Birgitta in one of the softer road shirts and nothing she considered worth discussing. Route notes sat between them. Panam moved them aside. “Food first.” Birgitta smiled. “Our system.” “Yeah.” They ate. Panam stole from Birgitta. Birgitta stole more back. Nobody won. --- Afterward Panam checked tomorrow's route. Birgitta sat behind her. Legs on either side. Arms around Panam's waist. Chin on her shoulder. Panam traced the road. “Here.” “Mhm.” “Fuel here.” “Mhm.” “Pickup eleven.” “Mhm.” Panam stopped. “You listening?” “Yes.” “What did I say?” “Fuel there. Pickup eleven.” Panam nodded. “Okay.” Birgitta kissed her neck. Panam continued. “Then this stretch.” “Mhm.” “Birgitta.” “Yes?” “You're distracting.” “I know.” Panam smiled. “Do you want to do the route?” “No.” “Then behave.” Birgitta considered. “No.” Panam laughed. Birgitta tightened her arms. --- Laundry finished. Clothes moved. Tomorrow assembled itself. Boots ready. Bags mostly packed. Water filled. Agents charged. Route known. Then there was nothing left that needed doing. Birgitta sat on the edge of the bed. Panam came out of the bathroom. Stopped. “What?” Birgitta smiled. “Nothing.” “Bullshit.” “I was thinking.” “Dangerous.” “Yes.” Panam walked over. Stood between Birgitta's knees. Birgitta put her hands at Panam's hips. Panam touched her hair. “What?” Birgitta looked up. “The first big shower felt like a discovery.” Panam smiled. “Yeah.” “This one didn't.” Panam's eyebrows rose. “Bad?” Birgitta laughed. “No.” She pulled Panam closer. “Better.” Panam's expression softened. “Yeah?” “Yes.” “Why?” Birgitta thought. “Because we didn't need to wonder.” Panam's hands settled at her shoulders. Birgitta continued: “We knew.” Panam smiled. “Yeah.” Birgitta kissed her stomach through the shirt. Panam's fingers moved into her hair. “It was just…” Birgitta looked up. “Us?” Panam nodded. “Us.” Birgitta smiled. “That.” Panam bent. Kissed her. Slow. No urgency. Nothing left to prove. --- They went to bed. Panam turned off the light. Birgitta moved closer before darkness fully settled. Panam's arm opened automatically. Birgitta fit herself against her. Panam's hand rested at her waist. Birgitta put one leg over hers. Their bodies settled. No negotiation. Panam kissed her hair. Birgitta smiled. “Tomorrow.” “Mhm.” “Big shower?” Panam laughed quietly. “If we find one.” “You're checking from now on.” “I already check.” “Good.” “Priorities.” “Our system.” “Our system.” Birgitta closed her eyes. The first time, a large shower had been a possibility. Now it was a preference. Something they knew about themselves together. A detail. Like coffee. Like Panam's fuel thresholds. Like Birgitta needing to stretch before her shoulder complained. Like which side of the motel room their bags would take. Like Panam stealing her hair tie. Like Birgitta stealing Panam's food. Like hands finding each other in the truck. Temporary road knowledge. Small. Intimate. Useful. The kind that accumulated without asking permission. Panam shifted. Pulled Birgitta closer. Already half asleep. Birgitta smiled against her shoulder. Tomorrow they would pack everything away again. Except the things neither of them carried in a bag. --- ## Chapter 26 — Sleep Panam lasted seven minutes. Birgitta knew because she'd checked the time when Panam opened the route notes. Not deliberately. Mostly. They had eaten. Showered. Laundry was done. Tomorrow's clothes were ready. Water bottles full. Agents charging. The room had completed its nightly transformation from anonymous motel to temporary road-home. Panam sat against the headboard with the route notes across her thighs. Birgitta sat beside her, reading a message. Seven minutes later, Panam's head touched her shoulder. Birgitta looked sideways. Panam's eyes were open. Technically. “Panam.” “Mhm.” “You're asleep.” “No.” Birgitta smiled. “You are.” “Route.” “Yes.” Panam looked down at the notes. For several seconds. Birgitta watched. Panam pointed at something. “Tomorrow.” Birgitta leaned closer. “What about tomorrow?” Panam stared. Birgitta waited. Panam's finger remained on the page. Then: “Road.” Birgitta covered her mouth. Panam looked at her. “What?” “Nothing.” “Bullshit.” “You're doing excellent work.” Panam frowned at the notes. “Pickup.” “Yes.” “Eleven.” “Yes.” “Fuel before.” “Yes.” Panam nodded. Satisfied. Her head returned to Birgitta's shoulder. Birgitta waited. Thirty seconds. “Panam?” “Mhm.” “Where after the pickup?” Silence. Birgitta looked down. Panam's eyes were closed. “Thought so.” --- She let her sleep. For a while. The position couldn't possibly be comfortable. Panam was half sitting. Half leaning. One hand still resting on the route notes. Birgitta stayed still anyway. She finished her message one-handed. Checked another. Ignored two. Then put the agent down. Panam didn't move. Birgitta looked at her. Really looked. There were things she had learned about Panam awake. Hundreds already. Expressions. Habits. The slight change in her mouth before an argument. The way her attention narrowed when the road became difficult. The way she checked mirrors. The way she reached for Birgitta without looking. The way hunger made her shorter with words. The way tenderness sometimes made her defensive. Sleeping Panam was simpler. Not less Panam. Just undefended. Birgitta liked her like this too. Maybe especially because Panam never chose to show it. She simply trusted enough for it to happen. --- Birgitta touched the route notes. Panam's hand tightened over them. Birgitta stopped. Panam remained asleep. Birgitta smiled. “Seriously?” No response. She tried again. Panam made a quiet sound. Pulled the notes closer. Birgitta stared. “You're guarding paperwork in your sleep.” Panam's eyes opened a fraction. “Route.” “Yes.” “Need it.” “Tomorrow.” “Mhm.” Birgitta waited. Panam's eyes closed. Birgitta gently pulled again. This time Panam surrendered. Birgitta folded the notes. Put them on the table. Panam immediately leaned farther into her. “Of course.” --- Getting Panam horizontal required negotiation. Mostly with gravity. Birgitta shifted. Panam frowned. “Don't.” Birgitta stopped. There it was. Sleep-heavy. Almost unintelligible. “I'm not going anywhere.” Panam's expression relaxed. Birgitta felt the sentence after she'd said it. Familiar. Not identical. Close enough to another morning. Another request. Don't disappear. She smiled. “Come on.” Panam made a protesting sound. Birgitta moved down the bed. Panam followed because apparently her body had already decided Birgitta was the correct direction. Birgitta reached the pillow. Panam reached Birgitta. Problem solved. Almost. One of Panam's legs was still partly off the bed. Birgitta looked down. “Excellent.” She nudged it. Nothing. Again. Panam moved. Wrong direction. Birgitta laughed quietly. “You can drive through the Badlands but a bed defeats you.” Panam muttered something. “What?” “Fuck off.” Birgitta smiled. “You're asleep.” “Fuck off.” “Very convincing.” Finally she got Panam properly onto the bed. Panam rolled toward her. Arm around Birgitta's waist. Head against her chest. Immediate. Automatic. Birgitta froze for half a second. Not because the touch was unusual. Because it wasn't. Then she settled. --- The light was still on. Birgitta looked toward the switch. Too far. She considered moving. Panam's arm tightened. Birgitta looked down. “No?” Panam didn't answer. Birgitta tried moving one centimeter. Panam pulled her back. Birgitta smiled. “Apparently not.” Her agent was within reach. She could have messaged the room light. Probably. Instead she stretched. Barely reached the switch with the tips of her fingers. Darkness. Panam remained asleep. Birgitta rested her hand on Panam's back. Slow movement. Up. Down. Panam's breathing deepened. --- They had been moving for days. Truck. Road. Stops. Motels. Camp. Clients. Cargo. Coffee. Showers. Sex. Sleep. Morning. Repeat. Birgitta hadn't realized how tired Panam was until now. Not dangerously. Not beyond what she could handle. Just road tired. The kind that accumulated. Panam had driven most of it. Planned all of it. Held the route in her head. Tracked the truck. Tracked the cargo. Tracked Birgitta too, whether she admitted it or not. Water. Food. Shoulder. Breaks. Panam took care of things. Constantly. Birgitta stroked her back. Tonight, there was nothing left to take care of. The route could wait until morning. Birgitta had already seen enough of it to know the first part. Fuel. Pickup at eleven. Then west. If something changed, they would deal with it. Their system. Panam could sleep. --- Birgitta stayed awake longer than necessary. Not trapped. She could have moved. Panam would have woken eventually. Or shifted. But Birgitta didn't want to. Panam's weight against her felt good. Warm. Trusting. At some point Panam's breathing changed. A deeper exhale. Then her whole body seemed to release another degree. Birgitta felt it happen. She smiled in the dark. “Yeah,” she whispered. Panam didn't hear. Good. --- Eventually Birgitta slept too. She woke sometime later with no idea how much time had passed. The room was dark. Panam was no longer on top of her. For one disoriented second Birgitta wondered where she'd gone. Then she felt a hand at her waist. Panam was behind her now. Pressed close. One arm beneath Birgitta's neck. The other across her stomach. Birgitta smiled. She didn't remember moving. Apparently neither of them needed to be awake for the system anymore. She closed her eyes. --- The next time she woke, Panam was on her back. Birgitta was half on top of her. Her head beneath Panam's chin. One leg across Panam's thighs. Panam's hand rested low on Birgitta's back. Again. No memory of getting there. Birgitta opened one eye. The clock said 03:41. She considered the evidence. Apparently they had spent the night unconsciously rearranging themselves while refusing to stop touching. Reasonable. Birgitta closed her eye. Panam moved. Her hand slid slightly higher. Then stopped. Birgitta smiled. Sleep. --- At 05:18, a truck started outside. Panam woke instantly. Not slowly. Instantly. Her body changed beneath Birgitta. Still. Alert. Birgitta opened her eyes. Panam listened. Engine. Normal. Moving away. Nothing else. Panam relaxed. Birgitta watched. “You heard that.” Panam looked down at her. “Yeah.” “You were dead.” “No.” “You insulted me in your sleep.” Panam frowned. “What?” “Twice.” “Probably deserved it.” Birgitta laughed quietly. Panam looked toward the window. Then at the clock. “Too early.” “Yes.” Panam's arm tightened around her. Birgitta settled back down. “Go back to sleep.” Panam kissed her hair. “Mhm.” Thirty seconds later, she was gone again. Birgitta smiled. Wrong sound woke her. Right person beside her let her sleep again. That seemed important. Birgitta didn't need to name why. --- Morning arrived properly at 06:47. Panam woke slowly this time. Birgitta was facing her. Their noses almost touched. Panam blinked. Birgitta smiled. “Morning.” Panam looked confused. Then: “Route.” Birgitta laughed. Panam closed her eyes. “Fuck.” “Good morning to you too.” “I didn't finish it.” “No.” “What time did I fall asleep?” “Seven minutes.” Panam opened her eyes. “Bullshit.” “I checked.” “You timed me?” “Not intentionally.” Panam stared. Birgitta smiled. “Mostly.” Panam groaned. “Where are the notes?” “Table.” Panam started to move. Birgitta put one hand on her waist. Panam stopped. “What?” “Coffee first.” Panam looked at her. Birgitta continued: “We know the first leg. Fuel. Pickup eleven. West after.” Panam studied her. “You read it?” “Enough.” Panam's expression softened. “You didn't have to.” “I know.” There. Panam looked at her for another second. Then settled back down. “Five minutes.” Birgitta laughed. “Again?” “Yes.” “We have work.” “Five.” Birgitta smiled. “Okay.” Panam moved closer. Birgitta put her arm around her. No route. No coffee. Not yet. --- Five minutes became eight. Their system survived. Eventually Panam sat up. Hair everywhere. Birgitta watched her. Panam looked back. “What?” “You slept.” Panam frowned. “Yes?” “No. You really slept.” Panam considered. Then looked around the motel room. At the bags. Boots. Water. Route notes. Birgitta. “Yeah.” Birgitta smiled. “Good.” Panam looked at her. Something warm passed across her face. Then she leaned down. Kissed Birgitta. Slowly. Morning breath and all. Birgitta kissed her back. Panam pulled away. “Coffee.” Birgitta smiled. “Actual.” “Obviously.” “Vehicle first.” Panam stared. Birgitta grinned. “Our system.” Panam shook her head. “Menace.” “Yes.” --- They dressed. Panam checked the route while Birgitta packed. No rush. No anxiety about the lost planning time. The route was still there. The road would still be there. At the door, Panam picked up both bags. Birgitta reached for hers. Panam moved it away. Birgitta raised an eyebrow. Panam looked innocent. “Efficient.” “Thief.” “Salvage.” Birgitta laughed. They left. --- Outside, morning was cold enough that Birgitta immediately regretted not putting on her jacket. Panam noticed. Without speaking, she put the bags down. Opened Birgitta's. Pulled out the jacket. Held it open. Birgitta stared. Panam waited. Birgitta stepped into it. Panam pulled it over her shoulders. Freed Birgitta's hair from the collar. Smoothed it once. Then kissed the back of her neck. Birgitta went still. Panam picked the bags up again. “Truck.” Birgitta smiled. There it was. One of those tiny things. Not a declaration. Not a question. Panam had slept deeply because Birgitta was there. Now Birgitta was cold, so Panam found her jacket. Simple. Useful. Intimate. Birgitta caught up. Slipped her hand into Panam's. Panam took it. They walked toward the truck. The route had waited. So had the road. For once, Panam had let them. --- ## Chapter 27 — Partner The first time Panam noticed, she said nothing. They were twenty minutes early for the pickup. Panam parked where the truck could leave without reversing. Birgitta looked at the yard. Two entrances. One blocked by a delivery van. Three workers near the loading bay. Client nowhere visible. Panam killed the engine. “Can you—” Birgitta opened her door. “Find them.” Panam stopped. Birgitta looked back. “What?” “Nothing.” Birgitta smiled. “Coffee?” “After.” “Cruel.” She climbed out. --- The client was inside. Wrong building. Birgitta found him. Got the paperwork. Confirmed the load. Returned to the truck. Panam was underneath the rear corner checking something. Birgitta crouched. “Problem?” “Maybe.” She looked. Panam pointed. “Mount.” Birgitta saw it. “Loose?” “Little.” “I'll get the kit.” Panam looked at her. Birgitta was already standing. She opened the correct compartment. Pulled the tool roll. Returned. Panam stared. Birgitta handed it down. “What?” “You knew where it was.” “Yes.” Panam took it. Birgitta smiled. “Our system.” Panam shook her head. “Menace.” “Yes.” --- The mount wasn't a problem. Not yet. Which meant Panam fixed it before it became one. Birgitta held the light. Panam worked. “Other side.” The light moved before she finished. Panam glanced up. Birgitta smiled. “Sorry.” “For what?” “Being annoyingly competent.” Panam snorted. “Hold that.” Birgitta already was. Panam stopped. Looked. Birgitta's smile widened. “Don't.” “I didn't say anything.” “Your face.” “My face is beautiful.” “Yes.” Birgitta blinked. Panam returned to the mount. Birgitta laughed. “You're getting good at that.” “Shut up.” --- The load arrived twelve minutes late. Panam watched the forklift approach. Birgitta checked the manifest. “Four.” “Yeah.” “Second one heavier.” “Yeah.” “Rear bias?” “Little.” Birgitta nodded. Panam looked at her. “You want left?” “Already.” Birgitta moved. Panam watched for half a second. Then moved to the other side. No discussion. They guided the load in. Checked placement. Secured it. Birgitta tested the rear strap. Panam tested the front. They switched. Tested each other's. Good. Panam closed the door. The client held out the paperwork. Birgitta took it. Panam started walking toward the cab. The client looked between them. “She's your partner?” Panam stopped. Birgitta looked up. The question was casual. Work. Nothing more. Panam answered just as casually. “Yeah.” Birgitta's eyes moved to her. Panam didn't notice. Or pretended not to. The client nodded. “Need both signatures?” “Just mine,” Panam said. Birgitta handed her the form. Panam signed. Done. --- They climbed into the truck. Doors closed. Panam started the engine. Birgitta put the paperwork away. Panam checked the mirror. Birgitta looked at her. Panam looked back. “What?” “Nothing.” “Bullshit.” Birgitta smiled. Panam waited. Birgitta picked up her coffee. Panam narrowed her eyes. “What?” “You said partner.” Panam blinked. Then looked ahead. “Oh.” Birgitta took a drink. Panam pulled out of the yard. A few seconds passed. Then: “You are.” Birgitta looked over. Panam shrugged. “This week.” There it was. The defensive qualification. Birgitta smiled. “Of course.” Panam glanced at her. Birgitta looked innocent. Panam frowned. “What?” “Nothing.” “You're doing the face.” “What face?” “The one where you decide not to say something because it'll annoy me.” Birgitta laughed. “I'm learning.” “Terrifying.” Birgitta put her coffee down. Then rested her hand on Panam's thigh. Panam covered it. Neither said anything else. --- Twenty kilometers later, Panam said: “You know what I meant.” Birgitta turned. “About?” “Partner.” Birgitta waited. Panam looked irritated already. Not at Birgitta. At language. That made Birgitta smile. Panam saw. “Don't.” “I didn't say anything.” “I mean work.” “Yes.” “Truck.” “Yes.” “Run.” “Yes.” Birgitta waited. Panam sighed. “You're enjoying this.” “Immensely.” “Asshole.” “Yes.” Panam squeezed her hand. Birgitta squeezed back. “I know what you meant.” “Good.” “And I liked it.” Panam went quiet. Birgitta looked out the window. Let her have that. A few seconds later Panam's thumb moved across Birgitta's knuckles. Once. Enough. --- The road got busy closer to the next town. Not Night City busy. Badlands busy. Which meant three trucks, two battered cars and one driver who apparently considered lanes a philosophical suggestion. Panam muttered something vicious. Birgitta watched the approaching junction. “Blue truck.” “I see it.” “He doesn't see us.” “I know.” Panam slowed. The blue truck drifted. Panam swore. Birgitta reached for the dash. Not frightened. Ready. Panam gave the other driver space. The truck corrected at the last second. Passed. Birgitta looked through the side window. “Idiot.” “Yeah.” Panam's hand came off the wheel. Touched Birgitta's thigh. Automatic check. Birgitta covered it. “I'm fine.” “I know.” Panam left her hand there another second anyway. Then returned it to the wheel. Partner. Birgitta smiled. --- At the next stop Panam opened the cargo doors. “Can you—” Birgitta was already checking the left strap. Panam stopped. Birgitta looked over. “Yes?” “Nothing.” “Again?” “Yes.” Birgitta tested the strap. “Good.” Panam checked the right. “Good.” Birgitta stepped down. Panam closed the doors. “Can you—” Birgitta handed her the seal. Panam stared. Birgitta smiled. “That's getting creepy.” “You're predictable.” “Fuck you.” “Later?” Panam looked at her. Birgitta laughed. Panam caught her by the waist. Pulled her close. “Careful.” “Threat?” “Promise.” Birgitta put her arms around Panam's neck. “Dangerous.” Panam kissed her. Quick. Hard enough to count. Then released her. “Truck.” Birgitta smiled. “Yes, partner.” Panam stopped. Birgitta walked away. Behind her: “Menace.” Birgitta laughed. --- Lunch happened late. Of course. Panam wanted to keep moving. Of course. Birgitta knew before Panam said it. “No.” Panam looked over. “What?” “Food.” “We can make the next—” “No.” Panam stared. Birgitta pointed ahead. “Stop.” “We're fine.” “You're hungry.” “So are you.” “Yes.” Panam opened her mouth. Birgitta waited. Panam sighed. “Fine.” They stopped. --- The place had food. That was the highest compliment available. They sat outside because the air was better than the interior. Panam ate like someone who had absolutely not needed to stop. Birgitta watched. Panam caught her. “Don't.” Birgitta smiled. “Three and a half minutes.” Panam stared. Then laughed. “Fuck you.” “You're welcome.” Panam stole from Birgitta's plate. Birgitta stole it back. Panam stole something else. Normal. --- Halfway through, Panam's agent buzzed. She checked it. Her expression changed. “Client?” “Dakota.” Birgitta waited. Panam read. Then typed. Birgitta ate. No need to ask. Panam finished. “Route update.” “Problem?” “No. Checkpoint farther north. Doesn't affect us unless tomorrow changes.” Birgitta nodded. Panam put the agent away. No explanation of Dakota required. No performance of separating pieces of Panam's life. Birgitta liked that too. She took another bite. Panam watched her. “What?” “You really don't ask much.” Birgitta looked at her. “I ask plenty.” “Not about things you know aren't yours.” Birgitta considered. “That sounds healthy.” “It's weird.” Birgitta laughed. “Thank you.” Panam smiled. “I mean good weird.” “Excellent recovery.” “Learning.” Birgitta reached across the table. Panam gave her hand. --- The afternoon delivery required backing into a space designed by someone who hated trucks. Panam looked at it. Birgitta looked at it. “No.” Panam smiled. “Yes.” “You're enjoying this.” “Little.” Birgitta got out. Panam lowered the window. Birgitta moved where Panam could see her. Hand signals. Distance. Angle. Panam reversed. Birgitta adjusted her. Panam corrected. Twenty centimeters. Ten. Stop. Perfect. Panam leaned out the window. Birgitta spread her arms. “Applause?” Panam clapped twice. Birgitta bowed. A warehouse worker stared at them. Birgitta smiled at him. “She's very supportive.” Panam laughed. --- Unload. Paperwork. Truck check. Done. By now, Birgitta could feel the rhythm before it happened. Not predict Panam. Not exactly. That would have been too simple. Panam remained Panam. Capable of changing her mind because the road looked wrong. Capable of adding a stop because something felt off. Capable of swearing at machinery as if it had insulted her personally. But Birgitta knew the shape of the work. What came next. Where Panam would look. What she would need. And Panam knew the same about her. At the next check, Birgitta crouched beneath the truck. Panam walked around the rear. Birgitta called: “Good.” Panam called back: “Seal good.” Birgitta stood. Panam tossed her the water bottle. Birgitta caught it. Drank. Tossed it back. Panam drank. Neither thought about whose bottle it had originally been. --- Late afternoon. Long road. Music low. Birgitta had one boot braced against the floor. Panam drove with one hand. The other rested between them. Palm up. Birgitta looked at it. Then at Panam. Panam kept watching the road. Birgitta put her hand in it. Panam's fingers closed. No reason. No event. Just there. They drove like that for several kilometers. --- Eventually Birgitta said: “Partner.” Panam sighed. “You're never letting that go.” “No.” “I knew it.” “You could've said coworker.” “No.” “Assistant.” Panam looked offended. “Absolutely not.” Birgitta smiled. “Passenger.” “No.” “Temporary cargo.” Panam laughed. “Tempting.” Birgitta squeezed her hand. “Partner was better.” Panam was quiet. Then: “Yeah.” Birgitta looked at her. Panam glanced over. “Partner was right.” No qualification this time. Birgitta smiled. Panam immediately pointed ahead. “Don't.” “I didn't say anything.” “Your face.” Birgitta lifted Panam's hand. Kissed her knuckles. Panam's expression softened despite herself. Birgitta put their hands back between the seats. --- They reached the last stop before evening. Panam parked. Birgitta looked at the yard. Then at the paperwork. “Can you—” “Client, paperwork, confirm tomorrow.” Panam stared. Birgitta opened the door. “Anything else?” Panam considered. Then smiled. “No.” Birgitta stepped down. Panam called after her. “Birgitta.” She looked back. Panam leaned across the cab. Birgitta stepped back up. “What?” Panam kissed her. Birgitta laughed against her mouth. When Panam pulled away: “What was that for?” Panam shrugged. “Partner.” Birgitta stared. Panam smiled. “Go.” Birgitta stepped down. “Menace.” Panam looked delighted. “Yes.” Birgitta laughed and walked toward the client. --- Later, back on the road, neither mentioned it. They didn't need to. Panam drove. Birgitta checked the route. The next pickup was already confirmed. Fuel was fine. Cargo was secure. Food could wait another hour. Birgitta put the notes away. Panam's hand appeared between the seats. Palm up. Birgitta took it. The truck kept moving. No instructions. No division of responsibilities. No question about who was supposed to do what. They simply knew. And when one of them didn't, the other would. Partner was right. --- ## Chapter 28 — Sera Sera arrived at 14:17. Not physically. That would have been impressive. Panam's agent buzzed while Birgitta was half leaning against her at a roadside stop. Panam had one arm around Birgitta's waist. Birgitta had one hand inside Panam's jacket pocket because her fingers were cold. Neither considered this unusual. Panam checked the message. Stopped. Birgitta looked up. “What?” Panam's expression became suspicious. “Sera.” Birgitta smiled immediately. “Unfortunately?” Panam looked at her. “Unfortunately.” Birgitta laughed. “What did she do?” Panam turned the agent slightly away. Birgitta's eyebrows rose. “Oh.” “No.” “I didn't ask.” “You were going to.” “Yes.” Panam looked at the screen. Then sighed. Birgitta waited. Panam read aloud: “`Courier week status report required.`” Birgitta smiled. “Reasonable.” “No.” Another message arrived. Panam read it silently. Her eyes closed. Birgitta started laughing before hearing it. “What?” Panam handed her the agent. Birgitta read: `categories:` `1. alive` `2. fed` `3. truck alive` `4. birgitta still likes you` `5. have you embarrassed yourself yet` Birgitta laughed hard enough that she had to take her hand out of Panam's pocket. Panam looked betrayed. “She's an asshole.” Birgitta handed the agent back. “She cares.” “Asshole.” “Both.” Panam stared at the screen. Typed. Birgitta leaned against her again. Panam didn't move away. `1 yes` `2 yes` `3 yes` `4 ask her` `5 fuck you` Sera's reply appeared almost immediately. `4. BIRGITTA?` Panam looked at Birgitta. “No.” Birgitta held out her hand. “Yes.” “No.” “Panam.” “No.” Birgitta smiled. Panam looked at that smile. “Absolutely not.” Birgitta moved closer. “Give me the agent.” “You're dangerous.” “Yes.” “That's not helping.” Birgitta kissed her. Panam kissed back automatically. Birgitta's fingers closed around the agent. Panam realized one second too late. “You—” Birgitta stepped away. “Thank you.” “Thief.” “Salvage.” “Give it back.” “No.” --- Birgitta typed. `4 yes` She paused. Panam reached. Birgitta moved away. “Birgitta.” “Working.” “You are not working.” Birgitta typed again. `unfortunately` Panam stared. Birgitta sent it. Sera replied: `<3` Then: `knew it` Birgitta smiled. Panam held out her hand. “Done?” “Maybe.” “Agent.” Birgitta gave it back. Panam looked at the messages. Then at Birgitta. “Unfortunately?” Birgitta put both hands into Panam's jacket pockets this time. “Very.” Panam's arms came around her. “Terrible week?” “Awful.” “Should probably end it early.” “Absolutely not.” Panam smiled. Birgitta kissed her. --- The agent buzzed between them. Panam ignored it. Birgitta pulled back. “Sera.” “I know.” “Aren't you going to look?” “No.” “Coward.” “Alive.” “Romantic.” Panam kissed her again. The agent buzzed. Again. Birgitta laughed against Panam's mouth. Panam groaned. “Fine.” She pulled it out. Sera had sent a picture. Panam stared. Birgitta leaned closer. Panam allowed it. The picture showed Sera. Paint on one cheek. More in her hair. One hand raised toward the camera. Entire palm covered in something dark and metallic. The background appeared to be part of her workspace. Birgitta smiled. “So that's what happened.” Panam frowned. “What?” “The paint.” Panam looked at her. Birgitta reminded: “Artistic process.” “Oh. Fuck.” Another message: `still artistic process` Birgitta laughed. Panam typed: `you look ridiculous` Sera: `you like me ridiculous` Panam typed: `unfortunately` Birgitta watched. Sera: `liar <3` Panam smiled. Small. Immediate. Birgitta saw it. Panam noticed her seeing it. “What?” “Nothing.” “Bullshit.” Birgitta shook her head. “No. Nothing bad.” Panam waited. Birgitta smiled. “I like that smile.” Panam looked back at the picture. Then at Birgitta. “Yeah?” “Yes.” Panam's arm tightened around her. “Good.” --- Sera sent another message. `birgitta there?` Panam looked at Birgitta. Birgitta raised a hand. “Apparently.” Panam typed: `yes` Sera: `tell her hi` Panam looked up. “Sera says hi.” Birgitta leaned closer to the agent. “Hi, Sera.” Panam stared. “She can't hear you.” “I know.” “Then why—” Birgitta kissed Panam's cheek. “Tell her properly.” Panam shook her head. Typed. `she says hi` Sera: `that sounded suspiciously obedient` Birgitta burst out laughing. Panam stared at the screen. “No.” Birgitta leaned against the truck for support. Panam pointed at her. “Don't encourage her.” “Too late.” Panam typed: `fuck off` Sera: `<3` Then: `both of you eat` `panam especially` `she forgets` Birgitta stopped laughing. Slowly turned toward Panam. Panam looked horrified. “No.” Birgitta smiled. “No.” “Interesting.” “You already knew.” “Yes.” “Then it's not interesting.” “Sera independently confirms the data.” Panam put the agent away. “Conversation over.” Birgitta nodded solemnly. “Peer review.” Panam stared. Birgitta lost it again. --- They got back into the truck. Panam started the engine. Birgitta buckled in. Panam pointed at her. “One word about peer review—” “Wouldn't dream of it.” “Liar.” “Yes.” The truck moved. Birgitta's hand found Panam's thigh. Panam covered it. The contact stayed. Sera hadn't changed the shape of anything. Hadn't interrupted anything. Hadn't introduced a question. She had simply entered the conversation from somewhere else. Someone Panam loved. Someone Birgitta knew. Someone who knew exactly where Panam was and seemed mostly concerned that she remembered to eat. Birgitta liked that. A lot. --- Twenty minutes later: “Does she always do that?” Panam looked over. “Do what?” “Check.” Panam considered. “Sometimes.” “On long runs?” “Yeah.” Birgitta nodded. Panam's thumb moved over her hand. “Sera worries differently.” “How?” Panam thought. “She doesn't ask if I'm okay.” Birgitta waited. “She sends something stupid.” Birgitta smiled. “Then?” “Waits.” “For?” “If I answer normally.” Birgitta's smile faded into something warmer. “That makes sense.” “Yeah.” “And if you don't?” “She calls.” Birgitta nodded. Panam glanced at her. “What?” “Nothing.” “Bullshit.” Birgitta smiled. “I like her.” Panam laughed. “I know.” “No. I mean…” Birgitta searched for the right words. “I like the way she cares about you.” Panam went quiet. Birgitta let her. The road moved beneath them. Then Panam said: “Yeah.” Birgitta squeezed her hand. Panam squeezed back. “She likes the way you care about me too.” Birgitta looked over. Panam smiled. “You don't know that.” “Yes, I do.” “How?” “Sera.” Birgitta considered. Fair. “She said something?” Panam's smile changed. “Maybe.” “What?” “No.” “Panam.” “No.” Birgitta narrowed her eyes. Panam looked delighted. “Coward.” “Alive.” “Romantic.” --- They drove. Birgitta waited approximately four minutes. “What did she say?” Panam laughed. “No.” “Was it before the week?” “Yes.” Birgitta looked interested. Panam immediately regretted answering. “When?” “No.” “Before our date?” Panam stared ahead. Birgitta smiled. “Oh.” “Stop.” “Interesting.” “Nothing interesting.” “Then tell me.” “No.” Birgitta put on her brightest Birgitta smile. Panam glanced over. “Absolutely not.” “I haven't done anything.” “You're weaponizing your face.” “Yes.” “Unethical.” “Yes.” Panam lasted another kilometer. Then: “She told me not to fuck it up.” Birgitta laughed. “That sounds like Sera.” “Yeah.” “Anything else?” “No.” Panam's answer was too fast. Birgitta stared. Panam sighed. “Fuck.” Birgitta waited. “She said you liked me.” Birgitta's eyebrows rose. Panam continued quickly: “Not like some huge fucking declaration. Just that I should stop acting like you were only being polite.” Birgitta smiled. Panam looked irritated. “At me. Not you.” “I know.” “I was being stupid.” “A little.” “Thanks.” Birgitta squeezed her thigh. “You asked me on a date anyway.” “Eventually.” “Yes.” “And you came.” “Yes.” Panam's expression softened. Birgitta smiled. “Apparently Sera was right.” Panam looked at her. “Unfortunately.” Birgitta laughed. --- Another message arrived around an hour later. Panam checked it at a stop. Sera: `food` Panam stared. Birgitta leaned over. Read it. Then looked at Panam. Panam looked at Birgitta. “No.” Birgitta pointed toward the roadside place ahead. “Yes.” “Traitors. Both of you.” Birgitta smiled. “Our system.” Panam sighed. “Our system.” --- They ate. Panam sent photographic proof. Sera replied: `good` Then: `birgitta you may keep her` Panam nearly choked. Birgitta read over her shoulder. “Excellent.” “No.” “I have authorization.” “You absolutely do not.” “Written authorization.” “From Sera.” “Yes.” “That is not how this works.” Birgitta took another bite. “I'll ask Mitch too.” Panam stared. “Don't you fucking dare.” Birgitta smiled. “Not Steve?” “No.” “Dakota?” “Birgitta.” Birgitta laughed. Panam kicked her lightly beneath the table. Birgitta hooked her ankle around Panam's. They stayed that way while eating. --- Back at the truck, Panam opened the passenger door for her. Birgitta stopped. “How gallant.” “Get in.” “Romance is alive.” Panam caught her waist before she climbed up. Birgitta turned. Panam kissed her. Birgitta's hands went to Panam's shoulders. Long enough that the open truck door became mildly inconvenient. When they separated, Birgitta smiled. “What was that for?” Panam shrugged. “Sera said I could.” Birgitta stared. Panam grinned. “You bitch.” “Yes.” Birgitta kissed her again. Then climbed into the truck. --- The agent buzzed before Panam reached the driver's side. Birgitta looked at the screen where Panam had left it in the center tray. Sera. Of course. Panam climbed in. “What now?” Birgitta read: `and stop blaming me for things` Birgitta laughed. Panam looked toward the sky. “How does she do that?” “She knows you.” “Unfortunately.” Birgitta picked up the agent. Panam held out her hand. Birgitta ignored it. Typed: `too late` Sera replied: `<3` Birgitta handed the agent back. Panam put it away. Then looked at Birgitta. “You two are dangerous.” Birgitta smiled. “You knew that.” “Yes.” “Still here.” Panam's expression softened. “Yeah.” She started the truck. Birgitta's hand found hers. Panam linked their fingers. The road opened ahead. Sera remained wherever Sera was, paint on her face and entirely unsurprised by any of this. Nobody had been displaced. Nobody had interrupted. Nobody needed reassurance that affection somewhere else reduced affection here. There was only another person who knew Panam well enough to worry when she forgot to eat. And who apparently trusted Birgitta to notice too. Birgitta looked at their joined hands. Their system had never needed to exclude anyone to belong to them. Panam squeezed her fingers. Birgitta looked over. “What?” “Nothing.” “Bullshit.” Panam smiled. “Drive.” Panam stared. “I'm already driving.” “Excellent.” “Menace.” “Yes.” The truck carried them onward. --- ## Chapter 29 — Last Delivery The last delivery began twenty-three minutes early. Panam hated being early. Not because early was bad. Because too early was just another form of wrong. Birgitta knew this now. Panam slowed as the destination appeared ahead. Birgitta checked the time. Then the gate. Then Panam. “Seven minutes?” Panam looked over. “Eight.” “Seven.” “Eight.” Birgitta smiled. Panam turned off the main road. There was a wide gravel shoulder before the final approach. She pulled over. Killed the engine. Birgitta looked at her. “Eight.” Panam pointed at the clock. “Exactly.” “Coward.” “Professional.” “Romantic.” Panam laughed. --- They waited. No impatience. No scrambling through paperwork. No need to check whether they had forgotten something. Birgitta already had the manifest. Panam already knew the unloading sequence. Cargo had been checked twenty minutes earlier. Fuel was fine. Truck was fine. Client had confirmed. Everything was ready. Birgitta looked through the windshield. Industrial buildings sat ahead. Nothing remarkable. Nothing dramatic. A perfectly ordinary final delivery. Panam's hand appeared between them. Palm up. Birgitta put hers into it. Their fingers linked. They waited. --- After a minute Birgitta said: “Last one.” Panam looked at her. “Yeah.” That was all. Birgitta looked back toward the road. Panam's thumb moved across her hand. Once. Then again. Neither woman said anything else. --- At eight minutes Panam started the truck. Birgitta looked at the clock. Panam looked at her. “Don't.” “I didn't say anything.” “Your face.” “My face is beautiful.” “Yes.” Birgitta smiled. There it was again. Easy now. Panam pulled onto the road. --- The gate opened when they arrived. Not before. Panam looked smug. Birgitta sighed. “You were right.” “Say it again.” “No.” “Birgitta.” “No.” Panam laughed. The guard checked the vehicle ID. Waved them through. Panam followed the marked lane. Birgitta scanned the yard. Loading bay three. Two forklifts. Receiving crew already outside. Client beside the door. Birgitta looked at Panam. Panam looked at Birgitta. No words. Panam angled toward the bay. Birgitta opened her door before the truck fully settled. “Show-off.” Birgitta looked back. “Partner.” Panam smiled. Birgitta stepped down. --- The client met her halfway. “Birgitta?” “Yes.” “Panam?” “Truck.” The man nodded. “Of course.” Birgitta smiled. Apparently Panam's relationship with vehicles had become professionally predictable beyond their own cab. “Everything ready?” “Bay three. Forklifts are ours. Need your seal numbers before we break them.” Birgitta already had the manifest open. “Here.” The client checked. Nodded. “Perfect.” Birgitta turned. Panam was at the rear doors. Waiting. Birgitta walked over. “Confirmed.” Panam held out her hand. Birgitta put the seal cutter into it. Panam stared. Birgitta smiled. “What?” “I was going to ask.” “I know.” Panam cut the seal. --- Doors open. Cargo good. Straps good. Nothing shifted. Panam pointed. “Front two first.” The client called to the forklift operator. Birgitta moved to the opposite side. Panam glanced at her. Birgitta was already watching clearance. Panam nodded. First pallet out. Second. Birgitta stepped around the rear. Checked the remaining load. “Still good.” Panam moved the strap. Third pallet. Fourth. Empty. Panam climbed inside. Birgitta checked from below. No damage. No loose material. Nothing left behind. Panam jumped down. Birgitta handed her water. Panam took it. Drank. Handed it back. Birgitta drank. The client watched. “You two been doing this long?” Panam and Birgitta looked at each other. Birgitta smiled. Panam answered: “About a week.” The client laughed. “No, seriously.” Panam's smile changed. Birgitta felt something small move beneath her ribs. Panam looked at her. “Seriously.” The client stared. “Huh.” Birgitta closed the bottle. “She's a very good teacher.” Panam looked offended. “I didn't teach you shit.” “Your system.” “You stole my system.” “Our system.” Panam shook her head. The client looked between them. Then wisely returned to the paperwork. --- Final inspection. No damage. No shortages. Correct signatures. Correct timestamps. Birgitta checked the receiving copy. Panam checked the truck. The client handed Birgitta the final document. “That's everything.” Birgitta looked at it. Simple sentence. That's everything. She signed. Handed it back. “Done.” The client smiled. “Done.” Panam walked over. “Good?” Birgitta nodded. “Good.” Panam looked at the paperwork. Then the empty truck. Then Birgitta. “That's it.” “That's it.” --- For the first time all week, there was no next client. No next cargo. No receiving window. No pickup deadline. No manifest waiting. Only the return. Birgitta knew that before either of them said it. Panam did too. They stood beside the truck. The client had already gone inside. Forklifts moved elsewhere. Nobody needed them anymore. Birgitta looked into the empty cargo compartment. “Feels strange.” Panam leaned against the rear. “Empty?” Birgitta looked at her. “No.” Panam understood. “Yeah.” Birgitta closed one door. Panam closed the other. They met in the middle. Panam reached for the latch. Birgitta reached too. Their hands touched. Both stopped. Not like day five. No irritation this time. Birgitta smiled. Panam did too. “Together?” “Very dramatic.” “Last one.” Panam looked at her. Then nodded. “Fine.” They closed the latch together. Birgitta laughed. “That was stupid.” “Little.” “I liked it.” “Yeah.” Panam locked it. --- They walked around the truck. Final work check. Tires. Mounts. Lights. Underside. Birgitta took one side. Panam the other. They met at the front. “Good.” “Good.” Neither moved toward the doors. Birgitta looked at Panam. Panam looked at her. Then Panam opened her arms. No joke. Birgitta stepped into them. Panam held her. Birgitta's arms wrapped around Panam's waist. It wasn't unusual. They had done this at stops. Motels. Beside the road. At camp. Before work. After work. For no reason. This one simply lasted longer. Birgitta rested her cheek against Panam's shoulder. Panam's hand moved slowly along her back. Neither hurried. --- Eventually Birgitta said: “We should go.” “Yeah.” Neither moved. Birgitta smiled against Panam's jacket. Panam felt it. “What?” “Nothing.” “Bullshit.” “We're very good at leaving.” Panam laughed quietly. “Apparently.” Another few seconds. Birgitta lifted her head. Panam kissed her. Not hungry. Not teasing. Just slow. Birgitta's hands moved higher along Panam's back. Panam held her closer. The kiss ended. Their foreheads touched. Birgitta looked at her. Panam looked back. No sadness. No fear. No question about whether they would see each other again. That had already been answered. Next time existed. The strange thing was simply that this time had run out of work. --- Panam kissed her once more. Shorter. Then: “Truck.” Birgitta sighed. “Terrible.” “We have to leave eventually.” “Questionable.” Panam smiled. “Passenger seat.” Birgitta raised an eyebrow. “Partner seat.” Panam laughed. “Get in.” Birgitta kissed her cheek. “Yes, boss.” --- The cab looked exactly the same. That felt wrong. Birgitta's bag behind the seat. Jacket. Water. Route notes. Panam's gloves. Food compartment. Hair tie still around Panam's wrist. Everything where it belonged. But there was no next delivery written on the route sheet. Birgitta sat. Closed the door. Panam climbed in. For several seconds neither started anything. Then Birgitta reached for the route notes. Looked at the final line. Delivery complete. She drew one line through it. Put the pen down. Panam watched. “Done?” Birgitta looked at her. “Done.” Panam nodded. Started the engine. --- They left the yard. Gate behind them. Industrial buildings behind them. The road opened. Birgitta expected relief. There was some. The job had gone well. Truck intact. Cargo delivered. No serious trouble. No one hurt. No client disasters beyond ordinary stupidity. A good run. She expected satisfaction. That was there too. What she hadn't expected was how quickly the absence of the next task became noticeable. Panam normally would have said: Next stop. Next pickup. Fuel. Food. Motel. Something. Instead: “Back toward Night City.” Birgitta looked at her. “Yeah.” Panam's hand rested on the wheel. The other appeared between them. Birgitta took it. --- They drove. For a while, neither talked. Not uncomfortable. Not even particularly heavy. Just quieter. The working reason for them to remain in the truck together was finished. The truck apparently hadn't received that information. Neither had their bodies. Birgitta's hand stayed in Panam's. Panam's thumb moved across her fingers. Birgitta leaned slightly toward her. Panam's shoulder met hers when the road straightened. Normal. Still normal. That helped. --- After twenty minutes Panam said: “Good week.” Birgitta looked over. “Very.” “Even the road?” “Especially the road.” Panam smiled. “Bad route?” “Fun.” “Dust?” “Less fun.” “Coffee?” “Criminal.” “Mitch?” Birgitta smiled. “Good.” “Not Steve?” “Perfect.” Panam groaned. “Wrong answer.” “Big showers?” Panam glanced at her. Birgitta smiled. “Very good.” Panam squeezed her hand. “Yeah.” Birgitta looked through the windshield. “Clients?” “Mostly idiots.” “Courier work?” Panam considered. “Still want to come again?” Birgitta turned. Not _would you_. Not _maybe someday_. Again. Birgitta smiled. “Yes.” Panam's expression relaxed so subtly that anyone else might have missed it. Birgitta didn't. She said nothing. Three and a half minutes. Panam glanced at her. “You're doing it.” “Doing what?” “Reading me.” Birgitta smiled. “Three and a half minutes.” Panam laughed. “Asshole.” “Yes.” --- The road turned south. Night City remained hours away. No hurry yet. Birgitta rested her head against the seat. Panam drove. Their hands separated when Panam needed both. Found each other again afterward. Birgitta watched the terrain. Something about the return felt unfinished. Not wrong. Just unfinished. The job was done. The week wasn't. Not quite. She didn't know what Panam was thinking. For once, she didn't try to read it. Panam would tell her if it mattered. Or she wouldn't. Either was fine. A junction appeared ahead. Main road continued toward Night City. Panam slowed. Birgitta looked at the route. Then at the road. Then at Panam. Panam's expression was unreadable. Interesting. Birgitta smiled. She didn't ask. Not yet. The last delivery was behind them. The truck kept moving. --- ## Chapter 30 — Turn Here The junction arrived. Panam turned right. Birgitta looked at the road. Then at the route notes. Then at Panam. She said nothing. Panam drove. Birgitta looked back at the notes. Night City was left. Not right. Interesting. --- Thirty seconds passed. Panam glanced over. Birgitta was reading the route notes. “What?” Birgitta looked up. “Nothing.” “Bullshit.” Birgitta smiled. Panam looked back at the road. Another thirty seconds. Birgitta folded the notes. Put them down. Panam lasted eleven seconds. “What?” Birgitta laughed. “You're very bad at this.” “At what?” “Waiting for me to ask.” Panam's expression tightened. “I don't know what you're talking about.” “Of course.” Panam drove. Birgitta watched the road ahead. Smaller. Still paved. Fields and scrub farther out. No signs pointing toward Night City. Finally Birgitta asked: “Where are we going?” “Getting dinner.” Birgitta looked at her. “We passed food twenty minutes ago.” “Not this food.” There. Birgitta smiled. Panam saw. “Don't.” “I didn't say anything.” “Your face.” “My face is beautiful.” “Yes.” Birgitta laughed softly. --- The road narrowed. Not dangerously. Just enough that it clearly wasn't a major route. Birgitta watched the terrain. Panam knew exactly where she was going. No hesitation at intersections. No route checking. No searching. Familiar road. Birgitta's hand came to rest on Panam's thigh. Panam covered it. They drove. --- Five minutes later Birgitta said: “This isn't a restaurant.” “No.” “Roadside place?” “No.” “Food truck?” “No.” Birgitta looked at her. Panam kept her eyes forward. “Should I keep guessing?” “No.” “Will I?” “Yes.” Panam sighed. Birgitta smiled. “Farm?” Panam's head turned. Just slightly. Birgitta laughed. “Got you.” “How the fuck—” “You said food.” “That doesn't mean farm.” “You know this road.” “So?” “You didn't check directions.” “So?” “And you looked guilty when I said farm.” “I did not.” Birgitta leaned closer. “Adorable.” “Fuck you.” “Later?” Panam looked at her. Birgitta smiled. Panam shook her head. “Menace.” “Yes.” --- Another few minutes. The landscape changed gradually. More cultivated ground. Fences. Working land. Nothing decorative. Nothing built for tourists. Birgitta watched. “You've been here before.” “Yeah.” “Often?” “Sometimes.” Panam adjusted speed for a rough patch. “Cabin runs.” Birgitta waited. “Food?” “Yeah.” “For everyone?” “Usually.” That made sense. Panam knew where to get things. Good things. Reliable things. Enough for groups. Of course she did. Birgitta smiled. Panam caught it. “What?” “Nothing.” “Bullshit.” “I like learning your map.” Panam looked over. “My map?” “The places you know.” Panam's expression softened. Birgitta continued: “Roadside food. Camp. This.” Panam looked ahead again. “It's just a supplier.” “I know.” That was exactly why Birgitta liked it. --- Panam's hand remained over hers. Birgitta turned her palm beneath it. Their fingers linked. Panam drove one-handed for a while. No rush. Night City existed somewhere behind the wrong turn. Or ahead eventually. It didn't matter yet. Birgitta looked at their hands. Then at Panam. She understood. Not every detail. Not where dinner would happen. Not what Panam planned to buy. But the important part. The last delivery had been done. They could have kept driving. Panam had chosen not to. She had taken the smaller road. A familiar road. Toward food they didn't need to come this far to buy. Birgitta smiled. Panam noticed. “What?” “Nothing.” “That's bullshit for the fourth time.” “Maybe.” Panam waited. Birgitta squeezed her hand. “Thank you.” Panam's eyebrows drew together. “For what?” “Dinner.” Panam watched her for half a second. Then returned to the road. “Hasn't happened yet.” “I know.” Panam squeezed back. “Okay.” Birgitta let her have the smaller answer. --- The road bent around low ground. A property appeared ahead. Working farm. Not picturesque. Useful. Buildings arranged around a broad yard. Shop and farm operations on one side. A residence across from them. Vehicles. Equipment. Storage. Nothing staged. Nothing pretending. Panam slowed. Birgitta looked toward the shop. “Here?” “Yeah.” Panam turned into the yard. Parked where she clearly had parked before. Birgitta noticed that too. Of course. --- Panam killed the engine. Neither moved immediately. Birgitta looked around. Across the yard, a dog was lying on the terrace near the residence. It lifted its head. Birgitta pointed. “Dog.” Panam looked. “Yeah.” “Steve?” Panam turned slowly. Birgitta kept a perfectly straight face. “No.” “Not Steve?” “No.” “Other Steve?” “Birgitta.” Birgitta laughed. Panam shook her head. “That one has nothing to do with Mitch.” “Allegedly.” “Fuck.” Birgitta smiled. Panam opened her door. “Come on.” --- Birgitta reached for her jacket. Panam was already holding it. Birgitta stopped. Panam looked at the jacket. Then at her. “What?” Birgitta smiled. “Nothing.” “Bullshit.” Birgitta turned her back. Panam held the jacket open. Birgitta slipped her arms in. Panam pulled it into place. Freed Birgitta's hair from the collar. Automatic now. Her fingers lingered briefly at the back of Birgitta's neck. Birgitta turned. Panam kissed her. One easy kiss. Then another. Birgitta smiled against her mouth. Panam pulled back. “Food.” “Yes.” They got out. --- The dog across the yard stood. Birgitta looked. Large enough. Older than Not Steve, maybe. Completely different animal. The dog watched them. Panam didn't react. So Birgitta didn't either. They crossed toward the shop. Halfway there, Birgitta reached for Panam's hand. Panam took it. Then looked down at their hands. Then at the shop. Birgitta noticed. “What?” Panam shook her head. “Nothing.” “Bullshit.” Panam smiled. “Apparently.” --- The shop door was ahead. Birgitta could see produce through the windows. Supplies. Coolers farther inside. Panam reached for the handle. Birgitta stopped her. Panam looked over. “What?” Birgitta stepped closer. “Just one question.” Panam immediately looked wary. Birgitta smiled. “Is this actually dinner?” “Yes.” “Or are you kidnapping me?” Panam stared. Birgitta waited. Panam's mouth twitched. “Can it be both?” Birgitta laughed. “There she is.” Panam opened the door. Birgitta stepped inside beside her. --- The place smelled like food and work. Not a market. Not really. A direct-sale shop attached to something that existed whether customers came or not. Birgitta liked it immediately. Panam moved with familiarity. Not ownership. Not intimacy with the place. Just knowledge. Where things were. Where to look. What was worth buying. Birgitta followed. A woman behind the counter looked up. Recognition appeared. “Panam.” “Hey.” “Been a while.” “Yeah.” The woman's eyes moved to Birgitta. Not invasive. Just noticing. Panam glanced at Birgitta. Birgitta smiled. “Birgitta.” The woman nodded. “Welcome.” “Thank you.” That was all. No interrogation. No _who's your friend?_ No performance. Birgitta appreciated her immediately. --- Panam picked up a basket. Birgitta looked at it. Then at her. “What?” “Nothing.” Panam sighed. “Bullshit.” Birgitta smiled. “You're buying dinner.” “I told you.” “Yes.” Panam walked deeper into the shop. Birgitta followed. The week had taught her enough not to ask the wrong question. Not yet. Not _why here?_ She already knew. Not every detail. Enough. Panam had turned. That was the answer. --- They passed vegetables. Panam slowed. Inspected something. Put it in the basket. Birgitta watched. “You cook?” Panam looked offended. “Yes.” “Good?” “Yes.” “Confident.” “Very.” Birgitta smiled. “Dangerous.” Panam leaned closer. “You ate my food at camp.” “That wasn't yours.” “Exactly.” Birgitta laughed. Panam continued shopping. --- The woman at the counter called: “Usual kind of run?” Panam looked back. “Smaller.” The woman's eyes moved briefly to the basket. Then Birgitta. Something subtle registered. Not surprise. Not judgment. Just arithmetic. Panam noticed. Birgitta noticed Panam noticing. Nobody said anything. Good. Birgitta smiled to herself. --- They continued. Panam selected carefully. Not enough for a cabin. Not enough for a group. Dinner. For two. Birgitta didn't comment. Panam seemed grateful. That was almost enough to make Birgitta comment. Almost. Three and a half minutes. She could be merciful. Occasionally. --- At the end of the aisle Panam looked at her. “You okay with this?” Birgitta raised an eyebrow. “Food?” “Yes.” “Panam.” “What?” “You've watched me eat for almost a week.” “I know.” “You know what I like.” “I know.” “Then why are you asking?” Panam looked at the basket. Then at Birgitta. “Habit.” Birgitta smiled. From their first date. Panam trying not to make every choice. Checking. Making room. Birgitta stepped closer. Touched her waist. “I like that you ask.” Panam relaxed. “But?” “You already know.” Panam smiled. “Yeah.” Birgitta kissed her cheek. “Partner.” Panam's hand settled at her lower back. “Menace.” “Yes.” --- They moved toward the cooler section. Birgitta looked through the glass. Panam stopped beside her. For a moment neither spoke. Then Panam opened the cooler. Birgitta looked at her. Panam looked back. There was something almost conspiratorial in her expression now. Birgitta smiled. Whatever dinner was becoming, Panam had planned enough of it to bring them here. That was all Birgitta needed. Outside, the truck waited. Night City waited farther away. Neither was going anywhere. Not yet. --- ## Chapter 31 — Two Steaks Panam opened the cooler. Birgitta looked inside. Then at Panam. Then back inside. “Oh.” Panam frowned. “What?” Birgitta smiled. “Nothing.” “Bullshit.” “No, really.” Panam stared at her. Birgitta pointed. “Those?” Panam looked. “Yeah.” Two steaks. Good ones. Not absurd. Not luxury for the sake of luxury. Just very good cuts from a place Panam clearly trusted. Panam reached in. Picked up one package. Inspected it. Put it back. Picked up another. Birgitta watched. “You have opinions.” “Of course I have opinions.” “About steak.” “About everything.” Birgitta laughed. “Fair.” Panam selected two. Put them in the basket. Birgitta looked down. Vegetables. Two steaks. A few other things. Not supplies. Not cabin provisions. Not food for whoever happened to be around. Dinner. Two people. Panam caught her looking. “Don't.” Birgitta smiled. “I didn't say anything.” “Your face.” “My face is—” “Beautiful. Yes. I know.” Birgitta stopped. Panam looked smug. “You stole my line.” “Our system.” “That's not how that works.” “Apparently it is.” Birgitta laughed. --- Panam moved to another cooler. Birgitta followed. “What else?” “Nothing much.” “That sounded suspicious.” “It wasn't.” “Dessert?” Panam looked at her. Birgitta's eyebrows rose. “Oh my God.” “No.” “You considered dessert.” “I did not.” “You did.” Panam walked away. Birgitta followed, delighted. “You absolutely did.” “Birgitta.” “This is adorable.” “Fuck you.” “Later?” Panam stopped. Turned. Birgitta smiled brightly. Panam stared at her. Then continued walking. “Menace.” “Yes.” --- The shop woman watched them approach the counter. Her eyes went to the basket. Two steaks. Vegetables. Small amount of food. Then to Panam. Then Birgitta. Again, the arithmetic. This time the corner of her mouth moved. Barely. Panam saw it. “What?” “Nothing.” Panam narrowed her eyes. The woman began ringing up the food. Birgitta looked between them. Interesting. Panam pointed at her. “No.” “I haven't done anything.” “You're about to.” “I was merely observing.” “Dangerous.” The woman put the steaks into a bag. “You usually buy more.” Panam sighed. There it was. Birgitta looked innocent. “Cabin,” Panam said. “I know.” The woman added the vegetables. “Usually feeding an army.” “Feels like one.” “Not today.” “No.” The woman's eyes moved toward Birgitta. Birgitta smiled pleasantly. “Not today.” Panam looked at her. Birgitta continued looking innocent. The woman nodded. “Good.” Panam frowned. “Good?” “Less work.” Birgitta covered a smile. Panam stared at both of them. “I hate this place.” “No, you don't,” the woman said. Panam sighed. “No.” --- Birgitta looked through the window. Across the yard, the dog had moved closer to the edge of the terrace. Watching. Still not approaching. Still very much a dog with its own home and apparently no interest in Mitch's criminal enterprise. Birgitta pointed. “What's that one's name?” Panam looked. “I don't know.” Birgitta gasped. “You come here and don't know the dog?” “It's not my dog.” “Neither is Not Steve.” “His name is Steve.” “No.” The woman behind the counter said: “That's Rollo.” Birgitta looked delighted. Panam closed her eyes. “Thank you.” “Rollo,” Birgitta repeated. The dog lifted its head. “See? He knows.” “He heard a sound.” “He knows.” Panam picked up the food bag. Birgitta looked at the woman. “Does she argue with everyone?” “Yes.” Panam stared. The woman smiled. “Drive safe.” Panam sighed. “You too.” The woman looked around the shop. Birgitta laughed. Panam froze. “Fuck.” The woman laughed too. “Get out.” --- Outside, Birgitta was still laughing. Panam walked toward the truck. “You said drive safe to a stationary woman.” “I know.” “She was standing behind a counter.” “I know.” “Inside her own shop.” “I know.” Birgitta caught up. Panam looked at her. “Are you done?” “No.” “Of course not.” Birgitta took Panam's free hand. Panam let her. They crossed the yard. Rollo watched. Birgitta waved. Panam groaned. “Goodbye, Rollo.” The dog remained completely unimpressed. Birgitta smiled. “I like him.” “You like every dog.” “Not true.” Panam looked at her. Birgitta considered. “Probably true.” --- At the truck Panam opened the storage compartment. Birgitta watched where the food went. Cool storage. Of course. Panam secured it. Closed the compartment. Birgitta leaned against the truck. Panam looked at her. “What?” “Two steaks.” Panam's shoulders dropped. “There it is.” Birgitta smiled. “Two.” “Yes.” “Not twelve.” “No.” “Not enough for the cabin.” “No.” “Not enough for the Aldecaldos.” “No.” “Not even enough for Not Steve.” “He doesn't deserve steak.” “Monster.” “He stole your food.” “He was hungry.” “He's always hungry.” Birgitta smiled. Panam waited. “Two steaks,” Birgitta repeated. Panam stepped closer. “Yes.” “For?” Panam stared. Birgitta waited. Panam looked briefly toward the road. Then back. “Dinner.” “For?” Panam's eyes narrowed. “Us.” There. Birgitta smiled. Panam immediately became defensive. “I told you we were getting dinner.” “You did.” “So why are you acting surprised?” “I'm not surprised.” “You're doing the face.” “My beautiful face?” “Yes.” Birgitta laughed. Panam stepped between her knees where she leaned against the truck. Birgitta's hands settled naturally at Panam's waist. Panam put hers against the truck beside Birgitta. “What's funny?” “Nothing.” “Bullshit.” Birgitta looked at her. “I'm happy.” Panam stopped. Simple answer. Apparently harder to defend against than teasing. Birgitta watched it land. Panam's expression softened. “Oh.” Birgitta smiled. “Yeah.” Panam kissed her. Slow. No audience that mattered. No urgency. Birgitta pulled her closer. When the kiss ended, Panam stayed there. Forehead against Birgitta's. Birgitta's thumbs moved beneath the edges of Panam's jacket. “You could have just said you wanted dinner.” “I did.” “You drove twenty minutes in the wrong direction.” “Ten.” “More.” “Not twenty.” Birgitta smiled. “You drove in the wrong direction.” Panam looked at her. “This isn't the wrong direction.” Birgitta went quiet. Panam seemed to realize what she'd said. Her eyes shifted. Birgitta could have pushed. Could have asked. Could have made Panam explain. She didn't. Instead she kissed her. Panam relaxed into it. --- When they separated, Birgitta said: “Where are we eating?” Panam smiled. “Not here.” Birgitta looked around. “Rollo will be devastated.” “Rollo doesn't give a shit.” “He'll miss me.” “He met you three minutes ago.” “Deep connection.” Panam shook her head. “I know somewhere.” “Of course you do.” “Quiet.” “Restaurant?” “No.” “Camp?” “No.” “Building?” “No.” Birgitta smiled. “Road?” “Kind of.” “Good?” Panam looked at her. “Yeah.” Birgitta nodded. “Then let's go.” --- They climbed into the truck. Panam started the engine. Birgitta looked at the route notes. Then deliberately put them away. Panam noticed. “No navigation?” “You know where you're going.” “Dangerous assumption.” “You knew where the steaks were.” Panam smiled. “Good point.” They pulled out of the yard. The shop disappeared behind them. Rollo remained on the terrace, presumably devastated. Birgitta settled into the seat. Panam turned back toward the secondary road. Not toward Night City yet. Farther. Birgitta noticed. Said nothing. --- A few minutes later Panam asked: “You really okay with this?” Birgitta looked over. “Dinner?” “Yeah.” Birgitta studied her. Panam kept driving. Birgitta understood the question beneath the question. Not _do you like steak?_ Not even _do you want dinner?_ Are you okay with me making this take longer? Birgitta rested her hand on Panam's thigh. “Yes.” Panam glanced over. Birgitta squeezed gently. “Very.” Panam covered her hand. “Good.” That was enough. --- The road became smaller again. Not bad. Just quiet. Open ground stretched around them. The sun had begun dropping. Not sunset yet. Getting there. Birgitta watched light move across the Badlands. Panam drove without checking anything. Familiar. Again. “You've been where we're going.” “Yeah.” “Courier stop?” “Sometimes.” “Camp?” “No.” “Place to hide bodies?” Panam looked over. “Don't be ridiculous.” Birgitta nodded. “Too visible?” “Exactly.” Birgitta laughed. --- They drove another ten minutes. Birgitta's hand remained beneath Panam's. Eventually Panam needed both hands for a rough bend. Their fingers separated. After the road straightened, Panam's hand returned. Birgitta gave hers without looking. Automatic. --- The truck climbed slightly. At the top, the land opened. Birgitta saw a turnoff ahead. Barely more than a track. Panam slowed. Birgitta looked. Panam turned. The truck moved away from the road. Toward nowhere obvious. Birgitta smiled. “This better be good.” Panam looked offended. “I bought two steaks.” “Yes.” “Good steaks.” “Yes.” “From my supplier.” “Yes.” “I drove you out here.” “Yes.” Panam looked at her. “What more do you want?” Birgitta smiled. “You.” Panam went completely silent. Birgitta watched. One second. Two. Three. Panam looked back at the track. “That's cheating.” Birgitta laughed. “How?” “You can't just say shit like that.” “Why?” “Because.” “Excellent argument.” Panam's ears were slightly red. Birgitta smiled. Didn't mention it. Three and a half minutes. Mercy. --- The track continued. Then opened into a small flat area overlooking miles of empty land. No buildings. No people. No signs. Just enough level ground for the truck. Panam parked. Killed the engine. Silence arrived. Not motel silence. Not camp silence. Not the mechanical pause at a roadside stop. Actual quiet. Birgitta looked through the windshield. “Oh.” Panam watched her. Birgitta looked around. Then back at Panam. “You've eaten here before.” “Yeah.” “Alone?” “Sometimes.” “With people?” “Sometimes.” Birgitta nodded. No claim. No invented exclusivity. Just another real place from Panam's map. Tonight she had brought Birgitta. That was enough. Panam opened her door. “Come on.” Birgitta smiled. “Dinner?” Panam looked at her. “Dinner for two.” Birgitta's smile widened. There it was. Not hidden. Not defended. Two steaks. Two people. A road they didn't need to take. And Night City could wait. --- ## Chapter 32 — Dinner for Two Panam opened the rear storage compartment. Birgitta watched. Cooking gear. Of course. Small stove. Pan. Knife. Cutting board. Utensils. Water. Nothing elegant. Everything useful. Birgitta leaned against the truck. “You carry a kitchen.” Panam looked over. “I carry food.” “And everything required to turn it into other food.” “Yes.” “Kitchen.” “Road gear.” Birgitta smiled. “Kitchen.” Panam pointed the knife at her. “Careful.” “Threatening the woman before dinner?” “Considering it.” “Romantic.” Panam laughed. --- They set up beside the truck. Nothing elaborate. Panam unfolded a small table. Birgitta found two chairs. Panam looked at her. “You knew where those were.” “Yes.” Birgitta opened the other compartment. “Plates?” “Left.” Birgitta reached left. Found them. Panam stopped. Birgitta held them up. “Our system.” Panam shook her head. “Show-off.” “Partner.” Panam smiled. “Yeah.” --- The steaks came out last. Birgitta inspected them with exaggerated seriousness. Panam noticed. “What?” “I've been promised good steaks.” “They are good.” “Your professional reputation is at stake.” “My professional reputation has nothing to do with steak.” “Everything has to do with steak now.” Panam took the package away from her. “You're banned from cooking.” Birgitta gasped. “You haven't seen me cook.” “Exactly.” “Unfair.” “Alive.” “Romantic.” Panam smiled. “Cut the vegetables.” Birgitta saluted. “Yes, boss.” “Partner.” Birgitta stopped. Panam was already opening the steaks. Birgitta smiled. “Yeah.” --- The light had changed. Lower now. Warmer. The truck cast a long shadow across the ground. Birgitta worked beside Panam. Not opposite her. Beside. Panam seasoned the steaks. Birgitta cut vegetables. Their elbows touched. Then hips. Neither moved away. Panam reached across Birgitta for something. Birgitta turned her head. Their faces ended up centimeters apart. Panam paused. Birgitta smiled. “You need something?” Panam looked at her mouth. “Maybe.” Birgitta kissed her. Panam kissed back. One hand found Birgitta's waist. Birgitta's knife remained safely on the cutting board. Important. When they separated, Birgitta looked down. “Vegetables.” Panam nodded. “Yeah.” Neither moved. Birgitta laughed. “Panam.” “Right.” Panam reached around her. Picked up the seasoning. Birgitta looked. “That?” “Yeah.” “You nearly made out with me for salt?” Panam considered. “No.” “Good answer.” --- The steaks hit the pan. Sound filled the quiet. Birgitta inhaled. “Oh.” Panam looked smug. “Yeah.” “That smells unfair.” “Told you.” Birgitta leaned closer. Panam moved her back with one hand at her hip. “Hot.” Birgitta looked at her. Panam immediately realized. “No.” Birgitta smiled. “You said it.” “I meant the pan.” “Of course.” “Birgitta.” “I'm cutting vegetables.” “You stopped.” Birgitta looked down. She had. “Your fault.” Panam laughed. --- They cooked. Actually cooked. Which proved surprisingly difficult when neither seemed capable of passing behind the other without touching. Panam's hand at Birgitta's waist. Birgitta's fingers across Panam's back. Hip against hip. Shoulder against shoulder. Birgitta stealing a piece of vegetable. Panam catching her wrist. “That's for dinner.” “So am I.” Panam stared. Birgitta smiled. Panam released her wrist very carefully. “You are a fucking menace.” “Yes.” --- Eventually Panam cut a small piece from one steak. Held it out. “Try.” Birgitta leaned forward. Panam fed it to her. Birgitta chewed. Panam watched. Far too seriously. Birgitta kept her expression neutral. Panam frowned. “Well?” Birgitta considered. Panam's eyes narrowed. Birgitta waited another second. Then smiled. “Very good.” Panam exhaled. Birgitta laughed. “You were nervous.” “No.” “You were.” “About the steak.” “Yes.” “That's reasonable.” Birgitta stepped closer. “You drove me away from Night City for this steak.” Panam's expression shifted. There. Birgitta touched her waist. Panam looked at her. Birgitta didn't tease. Not this time. She kissed Panam's cheek. “Worth it.” Panam relaxed. “Good.” --- They finished cooking. Two plates. Two steaks. Vegetables. Nothing fancy. No restaurant. No motel containers. No camp table full of people. Just them. Panam carried the plates. Birgitta carried the water. They sat facing the open land. For a while they ate. Birgitta closed her eyes after the first proper bite. Panam noticed. “Good?” Birgitta opened them. “I may forgive the coffee.” “That's not my coffee.” “You chose where we stopped.” “Unfair.” “Yes.” Panam smiled. --- The steak really was good. Birgitta hated giving Panam the satisfaction. Unfortunately Panam knew. “You like it.” “No.” “Liar.” “Maybe.” “You're doing the face.” Birgitta laughed. “You've learned too much.” “Partner.” “Dangerous.” Panam stole a vegetable from Birgitta's plate. Birgitta stared. “You have your own.” “Tastes better.” “Mine?” “Yeah.” Birgitta cut a piece of steak. Held it out. Panam leaned forward. Ate it. Birgitta smiled. “Apparently.” --- The sun moved lower. Neither checked the time. That felt unusual. All week had been time. Pickup windows. Delivery windows. Fuel. Distance. Opening hours. Sleep. Morning. Routes. Now there was nowhere they had to be tonight. Not yet. Birgitta looked at Panam. Panam was watching the horizon. Birgitta put her plate down. “We could've kept driving.” Panam didn't look over. “I know.” “We'd be back by now.” “I know.” Birgitta waited. Panam finally looked at her. Birgitta's voice stayed soft. “So why are we here?” Panam looked at the plates. The stove. The truck. The empty land. Then Birgitta. “Dinner.” Birgitta smiled. Panam's expression immediately became defensive. “What?” “Nothing.” “Bullshit.” Birgitta shook her head. “No.” She reached across the small space between their chairs. Held out her hand. Panam looked at it. Then took it. Birgitta squeezed. “Dinner.” Panam squeezed back. “Yeah.” No more required. --- They finished eating slowly. Much more slowly than necessary. Birgitta suspected Panam was doing it deliberately. Birgitta definitely was. Neither mentioned this. When the plates were empty, Panam made no move to stand. Birgitta didn't either. Their hands remained linked between the chairs. The last edge of the sun touched the horizon. Birgitta leaned sideways until her shoulder rested against Panam's. The chairs weren't designed for this. They managed anyway. Panam kissed the top of her head. Birgitta smiled. “Good place.” “Yeah.” “You come here often?” “Sometimes.” “After runs?” “Sometimes.” Birgitta looked out. “To think?” Panam shrugged. “Eat. Stop. Not drive.” Birgitta understood. Panam didn't decorate things. A place didn't need a story to matter. Sometimes it was simply somewhere she knew she could stop. Tonight she'd chosen it for them. --- Eventually Panam said: “We should clean up.” Birgitta sighed. “Terrible idea.” “Animals.” “Rollo followed us?” “No.” “Not Steve?” “Absolutely not.” Birgitta smiled. They stood. --- Cleanup became another version of their system. Birgitta scraped plates. Panam packed cooking gear. Birgitta wiped the table. Panam secured the stove. Panam reached for the water. Birgitta already had it. Birgitta reached for the food bag. Panam had already folded it. Neither commented. Almost. Birgitta smiled. Panam caught it. “No.” “I didn't say anything.” “Partner.” Birgitta laughed. “Exactly.” --- When everything was packed, the flat patch of ground looked almost untouched. Truck. Two women. Nothing else. Panam closed the storage compartment. Birgitta leaned against the side of the truck. Panam walked toward her. Stopped close. Birgitta looked up. “Good dinner.” “Yeah?” “Very.” Panam's hand settled at her hip. Birgitta's hands went around her waist. “Thank you.” “For the steak?” “For turning.” Panam went still. Birgitta hadn't planned to say it. Apparently she had anyway. Panam looked at her. Birgitta didn't rescue the sentence. Didn't explain it. Didn't turn it into a joke. Panam's thumb moved against her hip. “You noticed.” Birgitta smiled. “Panam.” “Right.” Birgitta laughed softly. “Of course I noticed.” Panam looked toward the road they had come from. Then back. “I wasn't ready to go back yet.” Simple. No defense afterward. Birgitta felt her smile disappear into something softer. “Neither was I.” Panam exhaled. Almost a laugh. Almost relief. “Good.” Birgitta pulled her closer. Panam came willingly. They kissed. Slow. Longer than the ones while cooking. No task waiting. No pan getting hot. No client. No route. No reason to stop except eventually needing air. When they separated, Birgitta kept her forehead against Panam's. “So.” “So?” “Was this a date?” Panam groaned. Birgitta laughed. “Birgitta.” “Dinner for two.” “We've eaten together all week.” “Two steaks.” “Oh, fuck off.” “Scenic location.” “It's dirt.” “Private dirt.” Panam laughed. Birgitta kissed her again. “Date.” “Fine.” Birgitta pulled back. Panam looked annoyed. Birgitta's eyebrows rose. “What?” Panam sighed. “Yes.” Birgitta smiled. “Yes what?” “You're going to make me say it?” “Absolutely.” Panam stared. Birgitta waited. Panam's hand slid around her lower back. “Yes. It was a date.” Birgitta smiled brightly. “Good.” “You're impossible.” “Yes.” --- Panam kissed her once more. Then looked toward the darkening horizon. “We should find somewhere to sleep.” Birgitta's smile softened. “Tonight?” Panam looked at her. “Unless you want to drive all the way back.” Birgitta didn't answer immediately. She didn't need to. Panam already knew. “No.” “Yeah.” Birgitta's hand found hers. “One more night?” Panam looked at their joined hands. Then at Birgitta. “One more night.” There was no sadness in it. Not yet. Just a choice. Another turn. Another few hours. One more morning waiting on the other side. Panam squeezed her hand. “Come on.” They climbed back into the truck. The cooking gear was packed. The plates were clean. Two steaks were gone. Night City still waited. Panam started the engine. Birgitta settled into the partner seat. And neither of them was in any hurry to get home. --- ## Chapter 33 — One More Night The motel was thirty-four minutes away. Panam knew that without checking. Of course she did. Birgitta sat beside her in the darkening cab, one hand resting on Panam's thigh. No route notes. No manifest. No delivery window. Nothing waiting except a room. Panam drove. Birgitta watched the last light disappear from the Badlands. Eventually she said: “One more night.” Panam's hand covered hers. “Yeah.” --- The motel was better than some. Worse than others. At this point Birgitta had developed standards. She stood inside the doorway and assessed. “One bed.” Panam walked past her. “Good start.” “Clean floor.” “Luxury.” “Two chairs.” “Suspicious.” Birgitta opened the bathroom door. Panam looked over. Birgitta inspected. “Medium shower.” Panam sighed. “Unacceptable.” Birgitta laughed. “We've been spoiled.” “Apparently.” Birgitta turned. Panam was already looking at her. That look. Familiar now. Not a question exactly. Not yet. Birgitta smiled. “Later.” Panam's mouth moved. “Menace.” “Yes.” --- Their room assembled itself. Bags. Boots. Water. Agents. Tomorrow's clothes. Dirty clothes together. Toiletries in the bathroom. Panam's jacket over the chair. Birgitta's beside it. The motions happened without discussion. When Birgitta turned from putting the chargers down, Panam was holding out a bottle of water. Birgitta took it. Drank. Handed it back. Panam drank. Birgitta smiled. “What?” “Nothing.” “Bullshit.” “Our system.” Panam smiled. “Yeah.” --- There was no dinner to solve. Two steaks had handled that. No route to plan. No cargo to check. No client to call. For the first time all week, the motel room contained nothing they needed to do. Birgitta noticed it. Panam did too. Panam sat on the edge of the bed. Birgitta leaned against the table. They looked at each other. Then Panam laughed. Birgitta smiled. “What?” “I don't know what to do.” Birgitta's eyebrows rose. “Panam Palmer without a task.” “Fuck off.” “Terrifying.” “I'm serious.” “So am I.” Panam looked around. “Usually there's tomorrow.” “There is tomorrow.” “You know what I mean.” Birgitta did. Usually tomorrow meant another part of the run. Another pickup. Another client. Another road. Tomorrow meant Night City. Return. Cover removed. Panam's truck without Birgitta's bag behind the seat. Birgitta looked at her. “Yes.” Panam nodded. --- Birgitta crossed the room. Stopped between Panam's knees. Panam's hands settled at her hips. Automatic. Birgitta put her hands on Panam's shoulders. For a moment they simply stayed there. Panam looked up. “We go back tomorrow.” “Yeah.” No pretending otherwise. No attempt to make the sentence smaller. Panam's thumbs moved beneath Birgitta's shirt. Birgitta stroked the side of her neck. Neither spoke. Then Birgitta leaned down. Kissed her. --- Nothing hurried. That was the difference. Not because they had been waiting. They hadn't. They had kissed in trucks. Against trucks. At stops. In motels. At camp. While cooking. Before sleep. After waking. They had learned each other's bodies across the week in ways that had nothing to do with discovery and everything to do with repetition. Panam knew how Birgitta liked to be held when a kiss became slower. Birgitta knew the change in Panam's breathing before Panam pulled her closer. Panam knew where Birgitta would put her hands. Birgitta knew exactly how Panam would respond when those hands moved. Nothing surprised them. Everything still mattered. --- Panam's hands slid around Birgitta's waist. Pulled her closer. Birgitta moved willingly. Panam kissed her again. Longer. Birgitta's fingers went into her hair. Panam made a quiet sound against her mouth. Birgitta smiled. Panam pulled back barely enough to speak. “Don't.” “What?” “You know.” Birgitta smiled wider. “I didn't say anything.” “Your face.” “My face is beautiful.” “Yes.” The answer came without hesitation. Birgitta stopped smiling for a second. Panam saw. “What?” Birgitta shook her head. “Nothing.” This time it wasn't bullshit. She kissed her. --- Panam stood. Birgitta moved with her. No awkward collision. No negotiation over direction. They had done this enough. Panam's jacket was already off. Birgitta's followed. Panam's hands found the hem of Birgitta's shirt. Stopped. Not because she didn't know. Because knowing didn't remove choice. Birgitta looked at her. “Yes.” Panam pulled the shirt upward. Birgitta raised her arms. The shirt disappeared somewhere. Neither cared where. Birgitta reached for Panam's. Panam helped. Then they were close again. Skin warmer than the room. Birgitta's hands moved across Panam's back. Panam kissed her neck. Familiar. Birgitta closed her eyes. “Yeah.” Panam knew what that meant too. --- They reached the bed eventually. No clear moment when that became the destination. One second Birgitta was standing. The next Panam was laughing because the back of her knee hit the mattress. Then Birgitta was laughing too. Panam sat. Pulled Birgitta with her. Birgitta ended up half across her lap. “Elegant.” “Shut up.” “Premium.” Panam laughed. “Twenty-five thousand and one?” Birgitta looked offended. “Road surcharge.” “Oh, fuck off.” “Plus steak.” Panam kissed her. That ended the pricing discussion. --- Clothes continued disappearing. Slowly. Not because either woman was teasing. Because there was no reason to hurry. Panam touched Birgitta with the confidence of familiarity and the attention of someone who still cared about every response. Birgitta gave her the same. A hand moved. A breath changed. The other noticed. Adjusted. Stayed. They had spent the week learning without consciously trying to learn. Now the knowledge was simply there. Birgitta kissed Panam's shoulder. Panam's hand moved down her back. Birgitta shifted closer. Panam looked at her. “Okay?” Birgitta smiled softly. “Yes.” Always worth asking. Even when the answer was known. Especially then. --- The room became quieter. Their laughter faded into breath. Kisses slowed. Hands stopped wandering and began knowing where they wanted to be. Panam moved with her. Birgitta moved with Panam. No performance. No joytoy room. No booking. No audience. No novelty. No need to turn anything up. Just Birgitta. Just Panam. One more night. When sex began, Panam stopped for one heartbeat. Not uncertainty. Attention. Birgitta's breath broke against her mouth, and her arms tightened around Panam before she could think about doing it. Panam watched her. Birgitta smiled. “Yeah.” Panam answered with a kiss. They stayed with it. No hurry toward a finish. No performance. The knowledge gathered over the week made everything quieter rather than faster: a shift answered before it became a request, a hand held where it was wanted, a laugh swallowed into a kiss when the bed objected again. Pleasure built until words stopped mattering. When the last tension finally broke, Birgitta held Panam close through it, and Panam stayed wrapped around her as their breathing slowly found the same pace. --- Afterward, neither moved. For a long time. Birgitta lay partly over Panam. Panam's arm around her. Their legs tangled. Breathing gradually slowed. The room was warm. Somewhere outside, a vehicle passed. Neither cared. Panam's fingers moved lazily along Birgitta's back. Up. Down. Birgitta's cheek rested against Panam's chest. Stillness. Not sleep yet. Not conversation either. Just the space after. Birgitta liked that they had learned this too. Not every silence needed filling. --- Eventually Panam said: “You okay?” Birgitta smiled without lifting her head. “Very.” “Good.” Birgitta kissed the skin beneath her cheek. Panam's fingers paused. Then continued. Another minute. Maybe more. Time had stopped being useful. --- Birgitta finally shifted. Not away. Higher. Enough to see Panam's face. Panam looked back. Hair ruined. Expression soft. Birgitta smiled. “What?” “Nothing.” Panam sighed. “Bullshit.” Birgitta touched her cheek. “I like you like this.” Panam's eyebrows moved. “Naked?” Birgitta laughed. “Yes. Obviously.” “Good.” “But no.” Panam waited. Birgitta traced one finger along her cheekbone. “Quiet.” Panam looked offended. “I'm quiet all the time.” “No.” “I am.” “You argue with coffee machines.” “They start it.” Birgitta laughed. Panam smiled. There. Exactly that. --- Birgitta lowered her head again. Panam kissed her forehead. Neither mentioned tomorrow. For another few minutes. Then Panam did. “Truck's going to feel weird.” Birgitta looked up. “Tomorrow?” “After.” There it was. Birgitta understood. Passenger seat empty. No Birgitta bag. No jacket. No hand appearing on Panam's thigh. No one stealing food. No one already reaching for the seal cutter. Birgitta's chest tightened slightly. Not fear. Not sadness exactly. Recognition. “Yeah.” Panam looked at the ceiling. “I got used to you.” Birgitta smiled. “Dangerous.” “Apparently.” “I got used to you too.” Panam looked at her. “That seems worse.” “Much.” Panam laughed quietly. Birgitta kissed her. --- They stayed close. Panam's hand found Birgitta's. Their fingers linked against the sheet. Birgitta looked at them. Then: “Next time—” “Yeah.” Birgitta looked up. Panam was already watching her. “There’s going to be a next time.” Birgitta smiled. “Good.” Panam squeezed her fingers. “Good.” Nothing about when. Nothing about how long. Nothing about what it meant. Next time existed. That was enough. --- Birgitta settled back against her. Panam pulled the blanket over them. Badly. Birgitta's foot remained outside. She looked down. Then at Panam. “Excellent.” “What?” “My foot.” Panam looked. “Looks fine.” “Cold.” “Put it under.” “You trapped the blanket.” Panam stared. Birgitta waited. Panam lifted herself enough to free it. Birgitta pulled the blanket over her foot. “Thank you.” “High maintenance.” “Premium.” “Right.” Birgitta smiled. “Twenty-five thousand and one.” Panam kissed her forehead. “Worth it.” Birgitta went still. Panam apparently realized what she'd said. Birgitta lifted her head slowly. Panam pointed at her. “No.” Birgitta's smile became enormous. “Panam.” “No.” “You—” “Sleep.” Birgitta laughed. “You said—” “I know what I said.” “Worth it.” Panam pulled the blanket over Birgitta's head. Birgitta laughed beneath it. “You bitch.” “Sleep.” Birgitta emerged. Hair everywhere. Panam looked at her. Lost the battle. Started laughing too. --- Eventually they calmed down. Birgitta returned to Panam's shoulder. Panam's arm returned to Birgitta's waist. Bodies finding the places they knew. Automatic. The room became quiet again. Panam's breathing slowed. Birgitta listened. Tomorrow they would go back. Victor's voice would eventually relax. Copper-grey would release back to Reyes's red. Birgitta would become a cover waiting for another reason to exist. Reyes would walk into the Safehouse after a boring escort contract. Panam would drive away knowing none of that. And still— This week belonged to Birgitta. Not falsely. Not less because the name was a cover. The laughter had been hers. The road had been hers. The dust. The camp. The showers. The sex. The arguments. The coffee. The hand in Panam's. The mornings. All hers. All Reyes's. There was no useful line between them. Not here. --- Panam shifted in her sleep. Pulled Birgitta closer. Birgitta smiled. There it was again. No checking. No asking. Sleeping bodies knew. She closed her eyes. One more night. Then another morning. And after that— Next time. There was going to be a next time. --- ## Chapter 34 — Last Morning Panam woke with her hand on Birgitta's waist. She didn't open her eyes. Didn't check. Didn't move her hand to confirm anything. She simply pulled Birgitta closer. Birgitta woke because of it. Not fully. Enough. She smiled into the pillow. “Morning.” Panam made a sound behind her. Birgitta waited. Nothing. She opened one eye. “Panam?” “Mhm.” “Morning.” “No.” Birgitta smiled. “Strong argument.” “Early.” Birgitta looked toward the clock. 07:11. “Not really.” “Early.” Panam's face pressed into the back of Birgitta's neck. Birgitta laughed quietly. “You're very persuasive.” “Sleep.” “We have to go back.” Panam's arm tightened. “Later.” There it was. Birgitta smiled. “Dangerous word.” Panam kissed the back of her shoulder. “Five minutes.” --- They stayed for twelve. Neither mentioned it. --- When Panam finally moved, she rolled onto her back and stared at the ceiling. Birgitta turned toward her. Hair everywhere. Blanket barely covering either of them. Panam looked over. Birgitta smiled. “What?” Panam shook her head. “Nothing.” “Bullshit.” Panam smiled. “Morning.” Birgitta laughed. “There she is.” Panam reached out. Touched Birgitta's face. Thumb along her cheek. Then pulled her closer for a kiss. Slow. Sleepy. No urgency. Birgitta settled partly over her. Panam's hand found her back. The kiss ended. Neither moved away. Birgitta looked at her. “No checking.” Panam frowned. “What?” “First morning.” Understanding arrived. Panam's expression softened. “Oh.” “You checked.” “Yeah.” “Second morning?” “I knew.” Birgitta smiled. “And now?” Panam looked almost offended. “Now I was asleep.” Birgitta laughed. “That wasn't the question.” Panam's hand moved down her back. “I knew.” Simple. Certain. Birgitta kissed her once. “Good.” --- Eventually coffee defeated affection. Barely. Panam sat up. Birgitta watched the blanket fall away. Panam caught her looking. “What?” Birgitta smiled. “Nothing.” “Bullshit.” “I'm appreciating the morning.” Panam looked down at herself. Then at Birgitta. “Premium service?” “Free evaluation.” “Twenty-five thousand and one.” “Inflation.” Panam laughed. Birgitta got out of bed. Neither reached for clothes immediately. There was no reason. They had spent enough mornings together that nakedness had become another fact in the room. Bed. Bags. Boots. Two naked women looking for water. Panam found the bottle first. Drank. Handed it to Birgitta. Birgitta drank. “Our system.” “Hydration.” “Romantic.” “Alive.” Birgitta smiled. --- The bathroom was unremarkable. One sink. Mirror. Shower they had already judged medium. Birgitta brushed her teeth while Panam washed her face. Panam reached across her. Birgitta shifted without looking. Panam took what she needed. Birgitta moved back. Hip against hip. Normal. Panam looked at their reflection. Birgitta caught it. “What?” “Nothing.” “Bullshit.” Panam spat water into the sink. Birgitta waited. Panam looked at her in the mirror. “We got good at this.” Birgitta smiled around the toothbrush. “Mhm.” Panam pointed. “Don't talk.” Birgitta deliberately said something incomprehensible. Panam laughed. Toothpaste nearly became a casualty. --- They dressed. That was when the morning changed. Not dramatically. Just enough. Birgitta pulled on the dark work trousers. Panam watched. Birgitta noticed. “Again?” Panam leaned against the wall. “Last chance.” Birgitta stopped. Panam's face changed immediately. “Fuck.” Birgitta smiled. “Poor choice of words.” “Yeah.” Birgitta fastened the trousers. Walked over. Panam put her hands on Birgitta's hips. Birgitta's arms went around her neck. “Not last chance.” “I know.” “Next time.” “Yeah.” Birgitta kissed her. Then pulled back. “Also, you can stare next time.” Panam laughed. “Good.” “And now.” “Better.” --- Packing should have taken five minutes. It took longer. Not because they were slow. Because things had migrated. Birgitta found one sock beneath Panam's side of the bed. Panam found Birgitta's sleep shirt under her own bag. One of Panam's shirts had somehow joined Birgitta's clothes. Birgitta held it up. “Mine?” “No.” “Looks like mine.” “You have never owned that shirt.” “I've had it all week.” “You stole it yesterday.” “Possession.” “Thief.” “Salvage.” Panam grabbed it. Birgitta held on. They stared at each other. Panam pulled. Birgitta pulled back. “Let go.” “No.” “Birgitta.” “Panam.” Panam narrowed her eyes. Birgitta smiled. Panam stepped closer. Birgitta expected a second attempt. Instead Panam kissed her. Birgitta immediately forgot the shirt. Panam took it. Birgitta pulled back. “You cheated.” “Our system.” “That is absolutely not our system.” Panam put the shirt into her bag. “Worked.” “Menace.” Panam smiled. “Yes.” --- The toiletries were worse. Panam picked up a bottle. “Yours.” Birgitta looked. “You used it.” “Still yours.” “You liked it.” “Smells okay.” Birgitta raised an eyebrow. Panam put it into Birgitta's bag. “Don't.” “I didn't say anything.” “Your face.” “My face is beautiful.” “Yes.” Birgitta smiled. Some jokes apparently survived everything. Good. --- Then there were the things that had no reason to feel strange. Birgitta unplugged her charger. Coiled it. Put it away. Panam collected the route notes. There was nothing left to plan on them. She folded them anyway. Birgitta picked up her jacket. Panam checked beneath the bed. Empty. The room slowly stopped being theirs. That was the strange part. For a week, every motel had transformed within minutes. Bags down. Boots placed. Water. Chargers. Clothes. Bathroom. Their system. Temporary road-home. Then every morning they dismantled it. But always to build another one somewhere else. Not today. Birgitta zipped her bag. The sound felt final in a way it hadn't before. Panam heard it too. She looked over. Birgitta smiled. Small. “Ready?” Panam looked around the room. “Yeah.” Neither moved. Birgitta laughed softly. “We're very good at leaving.” Panam smiled. “Apparently.” --- Coffee. Actual coffee. That rule survived too. They checked out. Loaded the bags. Panam started toward the truck. Birgitta caught her arm. “Coffee.” “Vehicle first.” “Coffee.” “Vehicle.” Birgitta stared. Panam stared back. Birgitta sighed. “Our system.” “Exactly.” They checked the truck. Then coffee. --- The nearest place produced something genuinely acceptable. Panam took one drink. Looked suspicious. Birgitta watched. “What?” “It's good.” “Problem?” “I don't trust it.” Birgitta laughed. They stood beside the truck. Morning air cool. Coffee hot. No rush. Panam looked toward the road. Night City direction. Birgitta followed her gaze. “There it is.” “Yeah.” “Still time to turn the wrong way.” Panam looked at her. Birgitta smiled. Panam considered. For one wonderful second Birgitta thought she actually might. Then Panam shook her head. “Next time.” Birgitta's smile softened. “Next time.” --- They climbed into the truck. Birgitta put her coffee where it belonged. Water where it belonged. Bag behind the seat. Jacket beside her. Everything assembled one last time. Panam started the engine. Birgitta looked around the cab. It had become more familiar than she had expected. She knew which compartment stuck. Which vent rattled at one specific fan setting. Where Panam kept emergency food. Where the tools were. Where the route notes lived. Where her own bag fit. Where her hand fit. That one was easiest. She put it on Panam's thigh. Panam covered it. No look. No comment. --- They pulled out. Motel behind them. Road ahead. After a few minutes Panam said: “You forget anything?” Birgitta considered. “Socks?” “Both.” “Shirt?” “Mine.” “Dignity?” “Never packed it.” Panam laughed. Birgitta smiled. “No. Everything.” Panam nodded. Another kilometer. Birgitta looked at her. “What?” Panam glanced over. “You were looking.” “Yes.” “Why?” Birgitta smiled. “Remembering.” Panam's hand tightened over hers. “Yeah.” --- The Badlands rolled past. Familiar after the week. Not hers. Not entirely strange anymore either. Birgitta rested back. Panam drove. Their hands separated when needed. Found each other again. The truck carried them toward Night City. Toward the end of the voice window. Toward Birgitta eventually becoming Reyes again. Toward Panam's ordinary life. Toward Birgitta's. None of that felt like something breaking. Just changing context. The week had happened. Nothing could make it unhappen. --- Panam glanced at her. “Next time longer.” Birgitta turned. “That wasn't a question.” “No.” Birgitta smiled. “Good.” Panam looked back at the road. Birgitta squeezed her hand. One more morning was behind them now. No checking. No surprise. No uncertainty. Panam had woken knowing exactly where Birgitta would be. And Birgitta had been there. Just like she said she would. --- ## Chapter 35 — City Lights Night City appeared as light before it appeared as a city. Birgitta noticed the glow low against the horizon. Barely there. A pale stain beneath the afternoon sky. She looked at it. Then at Panam. Panam was already watching the road ahead. Of course she'd seen it. Birgitta said nothing. The truck kept moving. --- Signal had been improving for the last hour. Birgitta's agent had noticed before she cared. A few messages waiting. Notifications. Nothing urgent. She checked once. Put it away. Panam didn't even check hers. The cab still looked exactly as it had that morning. Birgitta's bag behind the seat. Jacket beside her. Water in its place. Panam's gloves. Route notes folded away because there was no route left to plan beyond returning. Everything belonged where it had belonged all week. Only the horizon had changed. Birgitta's hand returned to the place it had learned all week: Panam's thigh. Panam covered it. No look. No comment. --- Ten minutes later Birgitta said: “Lights.” “Yeah.” “That counts?” “Unfortunately.” Birgitta laughed. Panam's thumb moved over the back of her hand. “Could still turn around.” Birgitta looked at her. Panam kept her eyes on the road. “Wrong direction?” “Very.” “Dinner?” “No steaks.” “Then absolutely not.” Panam smiled. “Thought so.” --- Traffic arrived gradually. One truck. Then another. A battered car moving too fast. More signs. More intersections. Long stretches of open road becoming shorter. Panam's attention changed with it. Mirrors. Distances. Traffic behind. Traffic ahead. The easy one-handed stretches became less frequent. Birgitta's hand left Panam's thigh when Panam needed both hands. A merge. A truck passing. Two lanes becoming three. Then traffic settled. Panam's right hand dropped from the wheel. Palm up between them. Birgitta looked at it. Put her hand into it. Panam's fingers closed. Automatic. Birgitta smiled. --- The city grew slowly. At first only glow. Then structures. Then distant towers. Birgitta watched. She had expected the return to feel sharper. A border. A moment when the week stopped being the week. Instead everything happened by degrees. More traffic. Better signal. More buildings. More people. Less empty land. Panam was still beside her. Their hands were still linked. The truck still smelled like coffee, road dust and too many days lived inside it. Nothing had ended yet. --- Panam glanced over. “What?” Birgitta smiled. “You looked at me.” “You were staring.” “At the city.” “You were thinking.” “Dangerous?” “Usually.” Birgitta laughed. Panam squeezed her hand. “What?” Birgitta looked toward the horizon again. “It's loud.” Panam frowned. “We can't hear it from here.” “Not sound.” Panam understood. “Yeah.” Birgitta leaned back. “Didn't notice how quiet everything got.” “Badlands aren't quiet.” “No.” “Truck definitely isn't.” Birgitta smiled. “Especially when you argue with it.” “I don't argue with the truck.” “Coffee machines.” “Different.” “Clients.” “Necessary.” “Route feeds.” “Usually wrong.” “Other drivers.” “Idiots.” Birgitta laughed. Panam looked over. “What?” “You're right. Very peaceful week.” “Exactly.” --- They drove. Panam's hand remained in hers. Eventually Birgitta said: “I'm going to miss this.” Panam looked over. “The Badlands?” Birgitta considered. “Some of them.” “The motels?” “No.” Panam laughed. “Coffee?” “Absolutely not.” “Dust?” “Fuck no.” “Not Steve?” Birgitta smiled. “Obviously.” Panam groaned. Birgitta squeezed her hand. “The truck.” Panam glanced at her. “The truck?” “Yes.” “You complained about the seat.” “The seat is terrible.” “The suspension?” “Questionable.” “The heater?” “Temperamental.” “So why the truck?” Birgitta looked around. “My bag has a place.” Panam went quiet. Birgitta looked at the water. The folded route notes. Panam's gloves. Their joined hands. “So does my water.” Panam looked ahead. Birgitta continued: “I know where the tools are.” “Most of them.” “I know which compartment sticks.” “Yeah.” “I know where you hide emergency food.” Panam turned. “I do not hide it.” “You absolutely hide it.” “From you.” “Exactly.” Panam laughed. Birgitta smiled. “And I know where my hand goes.” She squeezed Panam's. Panam's expression softened. “Yeah.” Birgitta looked back through the windshield. “That's why.” --- A few kilometers passed. Then Panam said: “Next time it'll still have a place.” Birgitta looked over. “My hand?” “Your bag.” Birgitta smiled. “Coward.” Panam looked offended. “I was getting there.” “Were you?” “Yes.” Birgitta waited. Panam sighed. “And your hand.” Birgitta smiled brightly. “There she is.” “Fuck you.” “Later?” The word landed. Not painfully. Just differently now. There wasn't much later left today. Panam heard it too. Birgitta saw the tiny change in her face. Neither tried to repair something that wasn't broken. Panam lifted their joined hands instead. Kissed Birgitta's knuckles. Put them back between the seats. “Next time.” Birgitta smiled. “Next time.” --- They stopped for fuel. Panam preferred returning with enough. Of course she did. She pulled beside the pump. Birgitta opened her door. “Coffee.” “Vehicle first.” Birgitta stared. Panam stared back. Birgitta sighed. “Our system.” “Exactly.” --- Panam fueled. Birgitta checked the other side. Not because Panam asked. Because that was what they did. Tires. Nothing leaking. Nothing loose. Nothing wrong. Panam finished fueling. Birgitta walked around the front. “Good.” “Good.” Then coffee. Actual coffee. Birgitta returned carrying two cups. Panam was beside the truck. Birgitta handed one over. Panam took a drink. Paused. Birgitta watched. “Well?” Panam looked suspiciously at the cup. “Good.” Birgitta gasped. “No argument?” “Don't trust it.” “There she is.” Panam smiled. --- They stood beside the truck. Night City larger now. Close enough that individual structures were beginning to separate from the haze. Birgitta drank. Panam leaned against the truck beside her. Their shoulders touched. Then Panam's arm went around Birgitta's waist. Birgitta leaned into her. No need to look around first. No need to make anything of it. Just familiar contact at another stop. Birgitta rested her head against Panam's shoulder. Panam kissed her hair. “Next time longer,” Birgitta said. “Yeah.” “How much longer?” “Depends.” “On?” “The run.” Birgitta smiled. “So there is a run.” Panam looked down at her. “There will be.” No hesitation. Birgitta liked that. “When?” “Don't know.” “Where?” “Don't know.” “Excellent courier planning.” Panam squeezed her waist. “Still want to come?” Birgitta looked up. “Yes.” Panam smiled. “Then I'll find one.” Birgitta went still. Panam seemed not to notice what she'd just said. Or perhaps she did. Birgitta didn't ask. Didn't need to. She took another drink of coffee. “Good.” --- Traffic became ugly after that. The city had decided to welcome them properly. Panam swore at the first driver. Birgitta smiled. Second. Birgitta counted silently. Third. Panam noticed. “What?” “Nothing.” “Bullshit.” “Three.” “What?” “Drivers.” Panam stared. Birgitta smiled. “I'm keeping score.” “That asshole cut across two lanes.” “I saw.” “And the first one—” “Also idiot.” “Exactly.” “Three.” Panam shook her head. “You're impossible.” “Yes.” --- The fourth driver earned something creative enough that Birgitta laughed. Panam looked offended. “That was justified.” “Four.” “Stop counting.” “No.” “Birgitta.” “Professional data collection.” Panam laughed despite herself. Traffic slowed. Their hands found each other again. --- The first familiar city streets appeared. Not destination-familiar. Night City familiar. Birgitta knew the rhythm. The aggression. The lights. The constant visual noise. The way everything wanted attention. After days of road, it felt almost excessive. Panam drove differently here. Still Panam. Just tighter. More information. More idiots. Birgitta watched the side mirror. A bike came up fast. “Right.” “I see it.” Panam held position. The bike shot past. Birgitta looked after it. “Five?” “That wasn't a car.” “Driver.” “Rider.” “Still idiot.” Panam considered. “Fine. Five.” Birgitta smiled. “Our system.” “No.” --- The skyline filled more of the windshield. Panam's hand rested on Birgitta's thigh at a long light. Birgitta covered it. The light stayed red. Panam looked at her. Birgitta looked back. Neither spoke. Panam leaned across the center space. Birgitta met her. A kiss. Slow enough that the light almost became relevant. A horn sounded behind them. Panam pulled back. Looked in the mirror. “Fuck off.” Birgitta laughed. The light turned green. “Six.” “That one counts.” “Definitely.” --- They moved deeper into the city. The road-world contracted around them. First it had been miles of Badlands. Then a quiet road. Then the highway. Now it was just the truck. Two seats. Two coffees. Birgitta's bag behind her. Panam's hand finding hers whenever traffic allowed. Birgitta felt the difference. Not distance between them. The opposite. The outside world was getting closer. Their little temporary world was simply running out of space. --- Birgitta looked at the dashboard. Then the road. Then Panam. “What?” “You keep catching me.” “You keep staring.” Birgitta smiled. “Remembering.” Panam looked over. Just briefly. Birgitta saw recognition. Her word from the morning. Panam's expression softened. “Yeah.” Birgitta lifted Panam's hand. Kissed her knuckles. Put it back between them. Panam didn't let go. --- A few minutes later Panam said: “I'm going to miss this too.” Birgitta turned. “The truck?” Panam looked at her. “No.” Birgitta smiled. “Oh.” “Don't.” “I didn't say anything.” “Your face.” “My face is beautiful.” “Yes.” Birgitta laughed. Panam squeezed her fingers. “The truck will be too quiet.” Birgitta's smile softened. Not goodbye. Not yet. Just recognition. Birgitta looked ahead. “Next time longer.” “Yeah.” “Much longer.” Panam smiled. “Dangerous.” “You started it.” “I know.” --- They drove. City lights surrounded them now. The Badlands had disappeared behind buildings and traffic. Signal was full. Messages could wait. Everything else could wait a little longer too. Panam turned toward the part of the city where they had agreed to separate. Birgitta knew the route. She didn't comment. Panam didn't explain. No need. Soon Birgitta's bag would leave its place. Her water would leave its place. The passenger seat would be empty. But not yet. For another few kilometers, the truck remained theirs. Panam's hand appeared between them. Palm up. Birgitta put hers into it. Their fingers linked. Night City moved around them. Neither let go. --- ## Chapter 36 — Extra Cash The neutral drop point was a parking structure. Not romantic. Not memorable. Exactly what they needed. Public enough that nobody cared. Private enough that nobody watched. Panam drove up two levels and chose a space near the far wall. Birgitta looked around. Concrete. Faded markings. A vending machine that had probably committed crimes. “Beautiful.” Panam killed the engine. “I chose it for the atmosphere.” “Very intimate.” “Shut up.” Birgitta smiled. --- The engine stopped. That was what made it real. All week the truck had been moving toward something. A pickup. A delivery. A motel. Camp. Dinner. Another road. Now it was parked. Birgitta's bag sat behind her. Her water bottle was almost empty. Panam's hand rested on the wheel. Neither moved. Birgitta looked through the windshield. Concrete wall. Not even a good view. She started laughing. Panam looked over. “What?” “This is where you bring me after the scenic dinner?” Panam looked around. “Privacy.” “Concrete.” “Security.” “Vending machine.” “Probably has coffee.” Birgitta stared at her. Panam smiled. “Okay. Too far.” “Much.” --- Birgitta unfastened her seatbelt. Panam did the same. Neither opened a door. Birgitta turned in the seat. Panam looked at her. “So.” “So.” “We're here.” “Yeah.” Birgitta glanced behind her. “My bag.” “Still has a place.” “For another thirty seconds.” Panam's mouth moved. “Could leave it.” Birgitta smiled. “Kidnap my luggage?” “Guarantee you come back.” “Panam.” “What?” “You already have a better guarantee.” Panam looked at her. Birgitta waited. Panam smiled. “Next time.” “Exactly.” --- Panam reached over. Her hand settled at Birgitta's waist. Birgitta leaned closer. Their foreheads touched. No kiss yet. Just contact. Birgitta closed her eyes. For several seconds the parking structure stopped mattering. Panam's thumb moved against her side. Birgitta smiled. “You're thinking.” “So are you.” “Dangerous.” “Very.” Birgitta opened her eyes. Panam was looking at her. Then Panam asked: “You going to be on Jig-Jig anytime soon?” Birgitta blinked. Of all the questions— That one. She smiled. “Maybe.” Panam waited. Birgitta's smile widened. “Even I need some extra cash from time to time.” Panam stared. Birgitta held it. One second. Two. Panam started laughing. “Fuck you.” “What?” “Extra cash?” “Yes.” “Twenty-five thousand and one.” “Exactly.” “An hour.” Birgitta looked offended. “I have expenses.” Panam laughed harder. “Road surcharge?” “Boot maintenance.” “Oh, fuck off.” “Lena doesn't work for free.” Panam shook her head. “You're impossible.” Birgitta leaned closer. “And yet you're asking when I'll be on Jig-Jig.” Panam's laughter stopped. There. Birgitta smiled. Panam looked away. “Maybe I was curious.” “Mhm.” “It's a normal question.” “Absolutely.” Panam looked back. Birgitta's expression remained innocent. It was not convincing. Panam narrowed her eyes. “Don't.” “I haven't said anything.” “Your face.” “My face is beautiful.” “Yes.” Birgitta laughed. --- Panam's hand was still at her waist. Birgitta's rested on Panam's thigh. The joke faded naturally. Panam looked at her. “If you are…” Birgitta waited. Panam shrugged. “Maybe tell me.” Birgitta held her gaze for a second. Then touched Panam's cheek. “I can do that.” Panam nodded. “Good.” “And you tell me when you have another run.” “I will.” “Long one.” Panam smiled. “Yeah.” “Big showers.” “No promises.” “Then I'm reconsidering.” “Bullshit.” Birgitta laughed. “Yes.” --- Panam kissed her. Not quick. Not a goodbye peck. A real kiss. Birgitta turned farther in the seat and put both arms around her. Panam pulled her closer. The center console became inconvenient. They ignored it. Panam's hand moved up Birgitta's back. Birgitta's fingers went into Panam's hair. Familiar. Immediate. No hesitation. No need to learn anything. They already knew. The kiss slowed before it ended. Then started again. Birgitta smiled against Panam's mouth. Panam made a quiet annoyed sound. “What?” “You're smiling.” “I'm happy.” That stopped Panam. Birgitta opened her eyes. Panam looked at her. The defensiveness disappeared. “Yeah?” “Yes.” Panam's hand moved along her back. “Good.” Birgitta kissed her once more. Soft. “Very.” --- Eventually they separated. Not far. Panam's forehead stayed against Birgitta's. Birgitta's fingers remained at the back of her neck. Neither looked toward the doors. Eventually Panam sighed. “You should probably go.” Birgitta smiled. “That sounded convincing.” “It wasn't.” “I know.” Panam laughed quietly. Birgitta kissed the corner of her mouth. Then sat back. --- She opened the passenger door. Stopped. Looked at the water bottle. Picked it up. Panam watched. “Our system.” Birgitta smiled. “Our system.” She stepped out. The parking structure felt cooler than the truck. Birgitta walked around. Opened the rear door. Her bag waited in its place. She reached for it. Paused. Stupid. It was a bag. She picked it up. The space behind the seat was empty. There. That was worse. Birgitta closed the door. --- Panam had gotten out too. Of course she had. She stood beside the truck. Birgitta walked toward her. Bag over one shoulder. Panam looked at it. “Last chance.” “To steal my luggage?” “Yeah.” Birgitta handed it to her. Panam automatically took it. Then stared at Birgitta. Birgitta smiled. “Go ahead.” Panam laughed. “You're an asshole.” “Yes.” She took the bag back. Panam caught her free hand. Pulled her closer. Another kiss. Because apparently the one inside hadn't been enough. Birgitta approved. --- When it ended, Panam kept one hand at her lower back. Birgitta's stayed on Panam's shoulder. “Message me.” “I will.” “When you get where you're going.” Birgitta smiled. “I will.” Panam's eyes narrowed. “What?” “Nothing.” “Bullshit.” “You're very bossy.” “You like it.” Birgitta smiled. “Sometimes.” Panam kissed her once. “Go.” “Terrible sales technique.” “Birgitta.” Birgitta laughed. --- She stepped away. Two steps. Stopped. Turned. Panam was still watching. Birgitta smiled. Panam shook her head. “What?” “Nothing.” “Bullshit.” Panam crossed her arms. “Impossible woman.” Birgitta's smile widened. “Next time.” Panam smiled. “Yeah.” Birgitta turned again. This time she kept walking. --- Panam watched until Birgitta disappeared toward the stairwell. Then another few seconds. Just in case. Nothing. Concrete. Vending machine. Empty space. Panam exhaled. Got back into the truck. Closed the door. The cab immediately felt wrong. Not physically. Everything was where it should be. Wheel. Console. Coffee cup. Tools. Gloves. Route notes. But the passenger seat was empty. No copper-grey hair. No terrible commentary. No hand on her thigh. No bag behind the seat. Panam looked at the empty space where it had been. “Fuck.” She started the engine. --- The truck rolled down the parking structure. Panam reached the exit. Stopped. Checked traffic. Turned onto the street. For several minutes she drove normally. Then, at a red light, her right hand left the wheel. Dropped toward the space between the seats. Stopped. Nothing there. Panam looked at her hand. Then at the empty passenger seat. She laughed once. Quietly. “Impossible woman.” The light changed. Panam drove. Her hand stayed on the wheel this time. --- ## Chapter 37 — Good Contract? Birgitta was still Birgitta when the parking structure swallowed the sound of Panam's truck. She did not become Reyes in the stairwell. Or on the next street. Or in the hired car that took her away from the drop. The woman reflected in the window still had muted copper-grey hair. Very light brown eyes. Scandinavian features. And when she quietly told the driver where to stop, Birgitta’s bright voice answered. Still stable. Still hers. Mostly. Reyes felt the first tiny roughness underneath it. Not failure. Not a crack. Just time. Victor had told her exactly what would happen. Seven days stable. After that, gradual relaxation. Nothing dramatic. Nothing that required fixing. The cover had done its job. More than its job. By the time the hired car reached the private stop Reyes had arranged, Panam had already made her promise once. Message me when you get where you're going. Birgitta opened the agent before she got out. > `safe` Panam answered almost immediately. > `good` Then: > `sleep` Birgitta smiled. > `Bossy.` > `yes` That was enough. She put the agent away. Reyes looked through the glass at the street outside. Her hand dropped beside her thigh. Found nothing. She frowned. Then realized what she had done. Passenger seat. Panam’s hand. A week of it. “Fuck.” The driver glanced at the mirror. Reyes ignored him. Birgitta’s voice still sounded like Birgitta. Good. Panam’s last memory of her would remain exactly right. No transition. No explanation. No mistake. Reyes leaned back. The cover could come apart privately. The voice would take its own time. And until it had— Reyes had nowhere she needed to be as Reyes. --- Three days later, Ace looked up from the Safehouse kitchen table. Reyes had barely made it through the door. “Good contract?” Reyes stopped. Red hair. Her own face. Dark brown eyes. Her own voice. Reyes. Completely. The temporary voice biosculpt had finished fading naturally. No Victor reset. No artificial shortcut. Birgitta’s face mesh was stored. The light-brown contacts with it. The copper-grey ChromeLock was gone. Road Birgitta’s clothes had been cleaned, checked, and put away. Her agent remained separate from Reyes’s normal one. Ready. Not gone. Just waiting. Reyes looked at Ace. “Yeah.” Ace nodded. “Client behave?” Reyes paused. Mai looked up from the counter. Shammy’s hair lifted slightly from where she was sitting with her coffee. Reyes considered the question with the seriousness it deserved. “Mostly.” Ace nodded again. “Good.” And returned to what she was doing. Reyes waited half a beat. Nothing else came. Good. She walked farther into the kitchen. Mai pushed a mug toward her. Reyes caught it. “Thanks.” “You look tired,” Mai said. “I am.” “Long job.” “Little longer than expected.” From the other side of the room, Kiro looked up. Reyes had not even noticed her. That was mildly embarrassing. Kiro stared at her for a moment. Then frowned. “Wait.” Reyes drank coffee. “No.” “I haven’t asked anything yet.” “You were about to.” Kiro pointed at her. “You said escort contract.” “Yes.” “You did not say more than a week.” Reyes lowered the mug. “I said long.” “You said boring.” “It was mostly boring.” Ace looked up again. “Mostly?” Reyes stared at her. Ace immediately looked back down. “Right. Not asking.” Kiro was still offended. “You disappeared for over a week.” “I was working.” “You could have mentioned the duration.” Reyes considered. “I forgot.” Kiro stared. Reyes drank coffee. Kiro looked toward Mai. “She forgot.” Mai’s expression remained perfectly calm. “So it would appear.” “That is deeply irresponsible.” Reyes raised an eyebrow. “You once disappeared for two days because you found an interesting network node.” “That was different.” “How?” Kiro opened her mouth. Stopped. Ace smiled into her coffee. Kiro pointed at Reyes again. “We are not discussing me.” “Convenient.” “Fuck you.” Reyes smiled. There. Normal. Almost. Shammy watched her over the rim of her mug. Not suspicious. Just watching. Reyes knew that look. Shammy could make silence feel conversational. Reyes refused to participate. She finished half the coffee. Then looked at the time. “I’m going home.” Ace blinked. “You just got here.” “I wanted coffee.” “You have coffee at home.” “Not this coffee.” Ace looked at the pot. Then at Reyes. “That may be the nicest thing anyone has ever said about my coffee.” Mai spoke without looking up. “She said nothing about who made it.” Ace’s expression collapsed. Reyes laughed. “Good night.” “It’s not night,” Kiro said. “It is to me.” That was apparently sufficient. Reyes put the mug beside the sink. Mai glanced at it. “You’re leaving that?” “I’m exhausted.” “You carried it six meters.” “Exactly. Heroic effort.” Ace nodded solemnly. “Understandable.” Mai stared at both of them. Reyes escaped before the situation became worse. --- Her apartment was exactly as she had left it. That was the first problem. Reyes closed the door behind her. Locked it. Checked it. Habit. The room was quiet. Not Safehouse quiet. Not motel quiet. Not the strange living quiet of an Aldecaldo camp after most people had finally gone to sleep. Her quiet. Familiar. Defensible. Nothing wrong with it. Reyes put her keys where they belonged. Her jacket went over the back of the chair. She stopped. Looked at it. Wrong. For more than a week her jacket had gone beside Panam’s. Or over a motel chair already carrying something of Panam’s. Or into the truck. Or wherever their system had decided jackets belonged that night. Reyes frowned at her own chair. “Don’t start.” The chair did not respond. Good. She walked into the kitchen. Opened the refrigerator. Stared. Closed it. Opened it again. Nothing had improved. She reached automatically for a second bottle of water. Her hand stopped. Reyes looked at it. One bottle. She took one bottle. “Ridiculous.” Her own voice sounded strange in the apartment. Not wrong. Hers. Completely hers. Just— Lower. Drier. Missing the bright edge she had lived inside for more than a week. Reyes drank. Then leaned against the counter. Silence. Her hand moved toward her pocket. Stopped. Birgitta’s agent was not there. Stored safely with the rest of the cover. Reyes’s normal agent was. Different device. Different life. She left it alone. For now. The bedroom was worse. Of course it was. Reyes stood in the doorway. One bed. Her bed. Plenty of space. She stared at it with immediate distrust. “This is stupid.” Still a bed. She changed. Red hair loose now. No copper-grey. No light-brown contacts. No Scandinavian face looking back from the mirror. Just Reyes. She washed her face. Brushed her teeth. Turned off the bathroom light. Routine. Normal. Good. Then she got into bed. And discovered that normal had apparently become badly designed. Too much room. Reyes shifted. Stopped. Shifted again. Her body was looking for something before her mind admitted it. A shoulder. A hip. An arm around her waist. A warm body moving closer in sleep. Panam stealing more than half the blanket while somehow insisting she did not. Reyes lay still. Five seconds. Ten. “Fuck.” She rolled onto her side. That was worse. For a week, rolling that direction had usually found Panam. Sometimes awake. Sometimes asleep. Sometimes making an annoyed noise and pulling Reyes closer without opening her eyes. Now— Nothing. Reyes reached across the empty space. Her hand landed on cold sheets. She left it there. Just for a moment. Then pulled it back. Not sad. That was too simple. Not lonely, exactly. Her apartment had been quiet before Panam. Her bed had been empty before Panam. Neither had bothered her. That was the problem. Reyes stared into the dark. A week had not taught her how to be alone. She already knew that. It had taught her how quickly another person could become part of the shape of ordinary things. Passenger seats. Coffee. Water. Boots beside a door. A hand on a thigh. Someone breathing next to her. Someone saying her name from the other side of a motel bathroom. Someone falling asleep against her because apparently that was safe now. Reyes closed her eyes. Her body still expected Panam. That would pass. Probably. Eventually. She opened her eyes again. “Goddammit.” Somewhere safely stored, Birgitta’s agent remained silent. Reyes left it that way. Tonight, the apartment was simply too quiet. Tomorrow could deal with the rest. --- ## Chapter 38 — Too Quiet Reyes slept. Eventually. Not badly. That would have been dramatic. Just differently. She woke once sometime after three with one hand stretched across the empty side of the bed. Reyes stared at it. Then at the ceiling. “Seriously?” Her apartment offered no defense. She pulled the hand back. Rolled over. Went to sleep again. --- Morning helped. Coffee helped more. Reyes stood barefoot in her kitchen, red hair still untidy from sleep, one hand wrapped around the mug while Night City continued doing whatever Night City did outside her windows. Traffic. Sirens. Something heavy passing several levels below. Normal. Her normal agent sat on the counter. Quiet. Beside it— Birgitta’s agent. Reyes looked at it. She had retrieved it that morning. No reason not to. The reusable pieces of the cover were stored. Face mesh. Contacts. Road clothes. The copper-grey ChromeLock was gone for now. Birgitta herself was still waiting until Reyes needed her again. But the agent— That was different. Panam knew Birgitta through it. Sera knew Birgitta through it. Suzie Q could reach her through it if work appeared. And apparently Reyes had become someone who kept two agents on her kitchen counter while drinking coffee. She took another sip. Reyes powered Birgitta's agent fully awake. Beneath the safe-arrival exchange from three nights earlier, two unread messages were waiting. Panam. Of course. > `home` Reyes smiled. The next had arrived less than ten seconds later. > `truck feels too quiet` Reyes stopped. Looked at the words. Then laughed. Quietly. “Yeah.” Apparently the problem was symmetrical. She typed: > `My apartment has the same problem.` Stopped. Deleted it. Too much. Not because it was untrue. Because Panam had said truck. Reyes understood truck. She sent: > `That sounds serious.` The typing indicator appeared immediately. Stopped. Appeared again. Reyes smiled. There it was. She waited. Panam: > `it is` Pause. Then: > `next time longer?` Reyes stared at the question. Not— _Will there be a next time?_ They had settled that. This was only duration now. How much road. How many mornings. How many motel rooms assembled and dismantled around them. How long until returning to Night City felt inconvenient again. Reyes typed one word. > `Yes.` The response came almost immediately. > `good` Reyes smiled into her coffee. Simple. Settled. Good. She put the agent down. It vibrated again before her fingers had fully left it. Reyes picked it back up. A photograph. She opened it. Stopped. Then laughed. Not Steve. The enormous dusty criminal was standing with his front paws against what appeared to be part of Mitch’s outdoor table. One ear up. One ear down. Head angled toward something outside the frame. Guilty. Completely unrepentant. There was an empty plate on the ground. Panam had added: > `Mitch says he misses you` Then: > `not Steve probably just misses your food` Reyes enlarged the photograph. Not Steve looked magnificent. And criminal. Very criminal. She typed: > `Tell Mitch I miss him too.` Pause. Then: > `And tell Not Steve I have not forgotten what he did.` Panam: > `he has` > `zero remorse` > `just stole half of mitch’s breakfast` Reyes laughed. > `Of course he did.` Another photograph arrived. This one caught Mitch pointing accusingly at the dog. Not Steve was looking in the opposite direction. Apparently the defense strategy was complete denial. Reyes laughed harder. Panam: > `criminal` Reyes: > `I tried to warn you.` > `you encouraged him` > `Allegation.` > `I WAS THERE` > `Circumstantial evidence.` There was a longer pause. Then: > `you really did fit there` Reyes went still. Only briefly. The photograph remained open above the message. Mitch. Not Steve. A piece of the camp behind them. Panam’s world. A world Birgitta had entered for one evening and one morning without pretending to belong to it. She had simply been there. With Panam. Apparently that had been enough. Reyes typed: > `I liked being there.` The answer came quickly. > `they liked having you there` Then, after a few seconds: > `I liked having you there` Reyes smiled. > `I know.` Panam: > `arrogant` > `Accurate.` > `menace` > `Also accurate.` Three dots. Gone. Back. Reyes waited. > `next time I’ll find a longer run` There it was again. Not a hypothetical. Not a question about whether Birgitta wanted another date. Not even really about work. Just— A longer run. Reyes took another sip of coffee. > `Better coffee too?` The reply was immediate. > `fuck you` Reyes laughed. > `That was not a no.` > `I KNOW GOOD COFFEE` > `Evidence remains limited.` > `BIRGITTA` Reyes froze. Then smiled. There it was. Her name. Bright on the screen. Not attached to a booking. Not whispered against her skin. Not called across a motel room. Not used by Mitch. Not used by a client. Just Panam, somewhere in Night City, becoming personally offended over coffee. Again. Reyes remembered a carburetor. Or part of one. Probably. She laughed. > `Yes, Panam?` The typing indicator appeared. Stopped. Appeared again. Then: > `nothing` Reyes raised an eyebrow at the screen. > `Bullshit.` Longer pause. > `miss you` No joke attached. Reyes's smile softened. She answered just as simply. > `Miss you too.` Panam: > `<3` Reyes sent one back. The agent went quiet. This time the silence felt different. Not empty. Waiting. Reyes finished her coffee. Outside, Night City remained loud enough for several million people. Inside, her apartment was still quieter than it had been before the week. That was all right. The truck was too. Somewhere between Night City and the Badlands, between deliveries and bad coffee and motel rooms and dust, something had changed without either woman needing to name it. They had already been lovers. Already wanted each other. Already knew what happened when clothes came off and doors closed. The road had taught them different things. How Panam worked when she was tired. How Birgitta occupied a passenger seat until it stopped being a passenger seat. How they argued. How they repaired it. How they ate. How they packed. How they slept. How they woke. How naturally one hand found another. How quickly two people could build a temporary home out of a truck cab and a mediocre motel room. How sex changed when there was nowhere else either of them needed to be afterward. How Panam fit into Birgitta’s ordinary movements. How Birgitta fit into Panam’s road. Reyes looked at the two agents on the counter. One hers. One Birgitta’s. She smiled. Next time longer. Not— _next time?_ That question was gone. Reyes picked up her coffee mug. Empty. “Fuck.” She turned toward the machine. Birgitta’s agent vibrated one final time behind her. Reyes looked back. Panam: > `and bring actual boots again` Reyes stared. Then laughed. Loud enough that there was no one in the apartment to hear it. > `Eyes up, Palmer.` Three dots appeared immediately. Reyes was still laughing when the answer arrived. > `impossible woman` She put the agent down. Still smiling. Next time longer. Good.