On a subway car normally crammed with people, Zef has to admit Damo made a good point when he insisted they nap and let Zef heal just a little longer.

He thought the extra people during commuter hours would make for good crowd cover. Help disguise him further than his new implant. After getting an elbow to the ribs from one too many disgruntled passengers, he can't imagine doing this with heavier crowds. His chest hurts from breathing hard while walking. Too much jostling could pop his stitches. If not for the miraculous healing technology repairing him so quickly, this journey would be fox-in-the-henhouse bonkers.

It's still pretty bonkers.

His 'colourful' clothing style, as Damo put it, would have attracted too much attention. Dressed in a wig, dress shirt, and slacks with suspenders, Zef feels a bit like a department store mannequin.

Damo speaks to him through an old-fashioned earpiece connected to an 'unhackable private communication network.' In other words, so obsolete no one uses it anymore. Apparently it's called Bluetooth.

"How you feeling, champ?" Damo says. He's gone masc for the day, a head taller than the crowd and visible from Zef's spot crammed between two musty individuals.

It's alien as hell to have to open his mouth and reply out loud, "Like someone's kicking me in the chest."

Even spoken under his breath, it attracts some scattered looks from fellow passengers. Thankfully, they just think he's one of the subway crazies and shuffle a safe distance away.

"I meant, like, emotionally," Damo replies.

"Oh," Zef says, "Same answer, I guess."

"Not to sound like a therapist, but do you want to talk about it?"

"Not like this," Zef says, even lower, because people are staring again. "This is all just— weird. Can't believe people used to communicate like this."

Damo says, "Not many people used it, actually, because even back when you couldn't just translate your thoughts to text, you were considered a weirdo if you suddenly start talking into a tiny earpiece to a different person than the ones in front of you. We should probably keep our radio chatter to a minimum."

Zef says, "Copy that."

They arrive in the bayou around supper time. Zef can't risk being seen near his dad's trailer, even disguised. Instead, he splits up with Damo at the train station and heads to an abandoned bus stop on a defunct route to light a cigarette he won't smoke.

The jitters set in, so maybe he should take up the habit. He goes over their plan in his head. Damo goes and knocks on Leo's trailer. Pretends to be a hook up and pushes him inside to talk in private. He gives Leo a message for Matthias. Zef's okay, but they need to talk where nobody can listen. After an unsuspicious length of time, Damo will emerge looking sex-rumpled and entrust Leo with the delivery of the message.

If all goes well, Matthias will get it and come to meet Zef. Damo will skulk around to ensure Matthias isn't followed.

Zef didn't really like the part where Damo pretends to be Leo's lover, but it made more sense than approaching Matthias, who might be on edge enough to put a screwdriver through Damo's jugular.

After a tense waiting period, Damo's voice comes over his earpiece. "Got all our ducks in a row."

Zef lets out a relieved sigh. "Leo believed you?"

"Oh, no. He definitely thinks it's a trap, but he's been worried sick."

Muffled, Leo's voice says, "The deal was you let me talk to him."

"You should see him. Hasn't showered. Red eyes. Man is a mess. You should be asha— all right, all right! Hold your horses. Here you go."

Clearly having relinquished the earpiece, Leo's voice comes through. "Zef? Is that you?"

Zef can't express the relief he feels in hearing it. "Hey, yeah. It's me."

"Fuck, Zef, Matthias has been combing everywhere for you. He's talking about putting up flyers. You couldn't have called us earlier?"

"I would have, but it wasn't safe for either of us. I wouldn't even be out here, but I figured dad wouldn't accept I was okay unless he saw for himself."

"What kind of shit are you in? I told you, you could come to me if you were in trouble. Who's this weird guy you're trusting instead?"

In the background, Damo says, "That any way to talk about your knight in shining armour?"

Leo rambles, "He's got this weird tech and there's nothing about him on my HUD."

"He's a friend," Zef says quickly. "Trust me when I say you can trust him."

Leo makes an exasperated sound. "Okay, where are you? I'll get Matthias and come right now."

"No!" Zef says quickly, glad for the isolation of the bus stop. Only the screaming cicadas can hear his side of the conversation. "I'm sorry, I can't see you. I want to, but we're trying to minimise looking suspicious. Send Dad, but don't come along. Promise."

Leo goes quiet for a long while. When he speaks, his voice wobbles. "Only if you promise me you'll come home when you can."

Zef bites his lip. He has no idea what will happen with Rylan. If he'll be able to avoid notice and sneak back into his old life again. It's not a promise he knows for certain he can keep, but hearing the grief in Leo's voice, he has to try. "Promise."

"Okay... Okay. Giving this thing back to your friend, now. But you take care and... and you promise. You come home soon as it's safe."

"Okay. I will. Talk to you later." He pauses a second, worries it was too long and Leo won't be there to hear it, but he says it anyway. "Love you."

For once, there's none of the sticky teenage emotions attached to it. Just this platonic, comfortable safety.

Leo says, "Love you, too."

In the background, Damo says, "Awwww."

The plan in motion, Damo recounts the next steps and confirms their next meeting place, then the line goes dead.

In the silence while Zef waits, his injuries ache. The blank stare of the security cameras watch blindly. This stop hasn't got service in a hot century, overgrown and smelling like the bog. Damo double-checked the cameras aren't hooked up to anything, and they wouldn't show Zef's face even if they did.

Still feels odd standing in a hut of graffiti that claims 'Ruby gives hot head,' and 'Sasha's strap game is 11/10.'

He waits an indeterminable time while cars cruise past. Some of them slow and then keep on into the dusk. Zef lights another cigarette. He doesn't smoke them, just pretends. Part of the disguise. The cigs are Gray's brand. He shoved them into Zef's hands when they parted ways without a word, the stalemate of their argument sizzling between them. The cigs smell a bit like coffee and bring Zef's heart rate down a notch or two.

Shouldn't have to deal with talking to anyone, but not ten minutes later a girl gets out of a car stopped on the curb a few yards away and ambles over to where Zef's waiting. He tenses, though she's in a mini-skirt and crop top that leave little hidden place for any tattoo tech. Still, he hadn't banked on talking to anyone.

The girl says, "In for a rough night. They're calling for rain."

Zef hums a non-committal agreement.

She looks him up and down. "Haven't seen you 'round here before."

That's weird. It's the boonies, but it's still overpopulated. Not like a small town where everyone knows who's new blood.

One of the cars rolling past slows down and stops. Reverses until it's parked next to Zef. So much for his heart rate, now beating against the stitches holding him together. The car has rusty teeth around the wheel wells and the windows rolled down. The guy inside looks the wrong side of sixty to be one of Rylan's goons, but Zef can't be too cautious.

Why the hell is he stopping? His shirt, stained at the pits in the bog's humidity with sleeves rolled up to the elbows, could still conceal tattoos elsewhere. Zef considers whether he should run.

The guy in the car says, "How much?"

"For—?"

"Not you. Her," the man says, pointing to the girl next to Zef, who ambles over and leans in the window to say, "Sixty credits."

Zef lets out a breath he hadn't known he'd been holding. Comes out in a dry, relieved laugh. He can't wait to tell Damo they accidentally picked a meeting spot frequented by sex workers. Of which Zef's disguise apparently made him a part.

Zef's laughter offends the guy, 'cause his tires squeal off without rolling up the window. The girl says, "I appreciate you're picky, but least don't scare them off. Some of us only care about the money."

"Sorry," Zef says.

He tries not to watch the time, but as the watch Damo leant him ticks closer to nine, he can't help feeling afraid Matthias won't trust the message. Knows that's impossible. Matthias would come, but he'd be cautious, worried about a trap.

So when Zef spots a man far down the road walking towards him with the familiar, springing gait of someone with prosthetic legs, it takes every heart-clenching bit of ambition in him not to run the rest of the distance to meet him.

Matthias pauses when getting closer, wary disbelief warring with cautious hope in his eyes. Zef tries to signal through body language alone that it's him. Lifts his hand to give the littlest wave then gestures to the woods behind him.

Matthias's eyes well with tears. He half-walks, half-runs the rest of the way. When he gets close enough, Zef can't help putting an arm around him. The girl probably thinks he's about to give his dad blow in the forest, which is fucking gross, but Zef can't bring himself to care. His dad is here. He's alive. He's not on his way to risk his life for revenge.

Once they're hidden and out of earshot, they abandon half-measures and hug. Too late, Zef remembers his injuries and lets out a hissing cry of pain.

Matthias recoils. "You're hurt."

"No. Well, a bit. I'm fine though. My friend patched me up."

Matthias's lined, weather-beaten face folds up with fear. "What happened? I got your message and the train tickets, but you never came. Now you come find me, but Leo says some stranger with a— Bluetooth?— delivered the message to meet you."

"I'll explain it all," Zef promises. "First, I gotta ask. You haven't been followed, right? Not just here, anywhere. Noticed anyone tailing you? Especially anyone with tattoos."

It's the sort of thing Matthias would notice as an ex-soldier. The look on his face is all the confirmation Zef needs.

He says, "You're giving your old man heart problems, son. What's goin' on?"

Zef takes a deep, steadying breath, and he starts. He explains as quickly as he can what happened—the stolen car, the ultimatum and the job Rylan gave him, then about Gray. It gets hard, trying to explain the chokehold Gray had over him. How close he came to telling Gray the truth, and the fallout when he failed to. The only place he starts to skimp on details are all the places where Zef got hurt. Matthias doesn't need to know it was Gray's fist that broke his ribs. Or his heart.

Hell, Zef himself hasn't had time to process that one.

When he finishes summarising, Matthias studies the leafy floor of the forest. Sun's near set, washing the whole world in purple and rose hues. Makes Matthias look even sadder when he says, "So... It's safe to say you're not coming home for a while?"

Zef stifles a well of feeling. "Yeah. It's not safe, Dad. For now, best thing that could happen is for Rylan to think I'm dead."

Matthias nods. "And if I go into hiding with you, that'll only look more suspicious."

"Right."

"So we wait until it's safe for you to assume some other identity? Get out of the city together? In the meantime, I'm meant to just—"

Zef hates what he has to put them through. "The best thing would be to pretend like I am dead. Fake a funeral. Small one, like we had for Ollie. Then leave. Make it look like you can't be around the place with too many memories of me."

It's asking a lot. He knows it. They buried Ollie together, grieved together, and the wounds leftover are still so raw they had Zef hurling himself headfirst into danger with Gray. Feels wrong asking his dad to do this for him.

Matthias, though, is far more pragmatic. He says, "I can do that, knowing it's not real." His lip wobbles. "Son, the past couple days of thinking you were— God rest Ollie's heart, but these have been the hardest days since those ones. I really thought—"

Fuck his injuries. Zef hugs Matthias again. Gingerly, this time, but he buries his face in the smell of motor oil and aftershave and home that is his dad. He says, "I know. It's why I risked coming."

"Glad you did. Won't tell no one, of course. Only Leo. He's been a mess, you know." He touches Zef's hair. Pulls him back to look at him. "You know, he said some weird guy warned him you'd look different. Still strange seeing you like this."

"Yeah," Zef agrees. "Can't wait to take this wig off. It's hot and itchy as hell."

Matthias holds him by the shoulders. His soft laughter melts into a reluctant yet grim determination.

Soon they're gonna have to say goodbye. With no idea when the next 'hello' will come.

"Listen, son," he says, that one golden word capturing Zef's attention. "When you gave me that credit chip in the restaurant and told me what you needed from me, I told you I was worried, but I trusted you. It's hard to have to do it again so soon after finding out you got hurt. I'm glad you had friends who helped you out, but I gotta ask. This Gray. You trust him?"

Zef told himself he wouldn't lie to Matthias when they met up. "I did. Don't know if I do anymore. It's complicated. I trust him not to hurt me on purpose. Only, he's reckless, and messy, so sometimes he hurts me anyway. But I can't leave him like that, Dad. I can't." He knows it won't be what his dad wants to hear. He wants assurance his son in the right hands. Still, Zef says, "You understand, right?"

His Dad's face falls. "Zef. You can't go setting yourself on fire to keep someone else warm. Sometimes you can't fix other people."

Zef says, "I can try."