Drained as he was, Ronan didn't stir until bright bands of sunlight streamed past the curtains he had never gotten around to closing. He woke up sticky and uncomfortably warm, reaching blindly to push away the quilt only to realize he must've already done so in his sleep. It pooled around his thighs, but the heat at his back remained.

"You're a fucking furnace," he grumbled, shoving his face into his pillow.

He jolted half-upright, dislodging the arm slung around his waist. Sure enough, behind him lay Amir, draped against the length of his body with his cheek smushed against the pillow, snoring like he had nowhere to be.

Cursing, Ronan turned onto his other forearm and muttered Amir's name, nudging gently at his shoulder. When Amir didn't even twitch, Ronan tried again, and again, until his prodding bordered on violent and he was nearly shouting. The only person capable of efficiently and humanely waking Amir seemed to be Amir himself.

So Ronan resorted to the barbaric methods he'd relied on when they were roommates. He stuck his little finger first into his mouth, then into Amir's ear.

Amir hurtled away with a haggard wheeze. He would've tumbled off the bed if Ronan didn't catch him around the waist.

"Why?" Amir warbled, deeply mournful.

"Because you should have left hours ago," said Ronan, sitting up. "And now you're- what, stuck here 'til nightfall?"

Amir rubbed his eyes and made no effort to match Ronan's concern. "Seems so," he said around a yawn. "Might as well stay until tomorrow at this point, hm? Can I loiter here while you go to work?"

"I don't have work today."

Amir replaced himself at Ronan's side, entangling their legs and muttering into Ronan's hip, "Lucky lucky."

"Vito will be livid."

"Vito can gag on my-"

"Amir," Ronan urged. "Is everything alright? You've never overslept before."

Amir peered up at him, frowning. "I didn't. You were shaking in your sleep. You looked like you'd been crying. I couldn't leave."

Ronan looked away, self-consciously wiping at the crusted remains on his cheeks.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

He nodded, slowly. "Just, not right this second?"

Amir kissed his side through his shirt. "Of course. We've got the whole day."

It finally dawned on Ronan that this was the first time they had woken up together. He wished he would've taken a second to appreciate Amir's stupid sleeping face in broad daylight.

"How did you know to come?" he asked. It couldn't have been a coincidence that Amir had appeared like a dream, right when Ronan needed him.

"I...didn't. At least I don't think I did. I just needed to see you."

"Did something happen?"

Amir laughed. "Nothing happened. Just missed you. Actually, I have something for you."

He rose from the bed, kissing Ronan's cheek on the way. There was a flat, square paper bundle on the chest that Ronan hadn't noticed. He leaned forward curiously as Amir came to kneel before him on the crumpled sheets.

"You seemed so stressed the last time I saw you," Amir explained. "I don't know if- well, I wanted to cheer you up, and you like...ah," he clammed up, adorably flustered. Ronan reached for the gift. It was soft, drooping where his hands didn't support it. "You like things that are- feminine? I think? If I've read that wrong, I'm sorry, I just-"

"I do," Ronan whispered, hopelessly endeared.

"Ah, right, well. I thought you might like something that you can wear whenever you'd like without, you know. Something like the necklace, that only you know is there. For comfort, I guess? I asked Tony for advice- oh, good grief, pretend I didn't admit that just now, alright?"

It was too late. Ronan was already bowing his head to a fit of giggles, rumpling the paper beneath his fingers at the thought of Amir asking Tony what to gift one of his many mistresses.

"Yes, yes, it's all very humorous," Amir said dryly.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry, you're just so sweet," Ronan placated, puffy-eyed and hoarse but smiling. He picked apart the wrapping to reveal a folded square of white fabric, smooth to the touch. Unsure of what exactly he was looking at, he picked it up to find an identical square underneath, and let both unfurl in his hand. Long and sheer, with intricate lace at one end and a clear heel at the other. Stockings, he realized.

"If you don't like them-"

"I love them. Thank you," Ronan said, admiring the silk between his fingers. He imagined how it would feel against his legs and fought the urge to find out then and there. Later, when Amir was gone. Ronan glanced up at him. "You don't mind? That I- like these things? Things meant for women?"

Amir had been smiling tentatively as he watched Ronan, but he gave a brackish scoff now. "Ronan, darling, haven't you realized? You could tell me tomorrow that you wanted to be a woman, and I would have to amend my statement about never wanting for one in my life."

Ronan tossed the stockings aside to wrap his arms around Amir's shoulders and drop against the pillows. Amir fell with him happily, humming into the crook of his neck.

"Say, if you're here all day," Ronan prompted. "Can I ask you to accompany me somewhere?"

"Anywhere."

"I haven't even told you where yet."

"Anywhere."

"This won't be a pleasant favor."

"Anywhere."

𓃦𓃦𓃦

"Are you sure you don't want me to come with you?"

Ronan pretended to study a small statue of a goblin with what looked like snakeskin covering its body. It wasn't nearly the strangest item in Delancey's Pawn Shop for Illicit Odds and Ends - not even the strangest item on this shelf, which lined the front wall and put his and Amir's backs to the rest of the store. Amir kept his face forward as they had discussed, holding eye-contact with a single human-shaped but beast-sized eyeball floating inside a jar, but Ronan could practically feel him itching to look over his shoulder.

"It would be-"

"Bad if he saw me with you," Amir huffed. "I know. I just don't like the thought of you alone with him."

"Delancey is harmless," Ronan dismissed. Amir's eyebrows drew together; Ronan imagined his cute little frown and mourned their surroundings and the fabric over their faces keeping him from kissing it.

That morning, when Amir asked why Ronan hadn't sought his help the night before, Ronan had answered honestly: he hadn't wanted to bother him or get him roped into anything, and- he had wanted to know he could do it by himself. Which, apparently, he couldn't. Now, Amir wore the same look as when he'd said to Ronan, you don't have to take on everything alone.

Before he could repeat it, Ronan said, "I know."

He turned and marched up to the counter, where Delancey clutched the front of his steely black coat as his body seized with laughter. He cackled in the face of a hunched old man holding out a handful of small teeth, perhaps from a cat. The man nearly collided with Ronan as he hobbled away with his fist clenched; Ronan apologized and was answered with a curse that sent spit flying.

Delancey was wiping beneath his eyes with the handkerchief his partner handed him when Ronan stopped before the counter. Recognition sobered him quickly.

"Oh?" he said by way of greeting, eyebrows disappearing beneath black curls. "Such a pleasant surprise. What of the others?"

"Just me today," Ronan mumbled, eyeing the backdoor. Delancey tracked his gaze and obliged him.

"Gone rogue?" he mused as he sidled toward the door with Ronan in tow. He swung a loaded key ring from one finger to another.

"One might say."

Five clicks later, the door opened.

"And your friend?"

Ronan winced. He could've sworn Delancey hadn't looked up when they'd entered, at least not before he and Amir had turned toward the shelves. But Delancey's tone was knowing; Ronan should've given him more credit.

Delancey clicked his teeth as he settled in his chair, lowering the scarf over his face to reveal a bright grin. Ronan uncovered his face but remained standing. "Oh, don't be so terse. I'm not in the business of gossip, Ske- oh, what should I call you now? Rogue?"

"Skeleton is fine," Ronan said, dropping his haul onto the table.

"I thought Rogue sounded rather nice," Delancey murmured breezily. He peered into the bag. "Who am I looking at today?"

"Vernon Dumas."

That grin turned sharp.

Ronan watched while Delancey sifted through his steals with white-gloved hands. No words passed between them; only Delancey's appraising hums as he rubbed gems between his fingers and his chuckle at the miniature of Ronan's father. Ronan did not go downstairs, but he did reminisce on his last time here - Amir in a ridiculous fur robe, decorating Ronan's body with jewels, peering at him beneath long dark lashes, driving Ronan slowly insane. Playful, and shamelessly flirtatious; Ronan was almost embarrassed he'd been so clueless.

He shifted in his seat, impatient to get back to him. He was becoming rather pathetic.

His bag was heavy with cash when he left Delancey's. He pondered, as he and Amir wound their way back through the market, what had changed since the last time they were here together. Amir seemed- not comfortable, exactly, but different in how he expressed his unease.

He walked with his back straight and his chin high, cutting a perfect figure in yesterday's coat, close at Ronan's side but almost in front of him, too. His eyes tracked slowly back and forth, constantly scanning. In his right hand, he deftly and absentmindedly twirled one of the daggers he normally kept tucked away. The unspoken threat was hardly subtle and dangerously attractive.

Ronan locked eyes over the blade with a ghoulish young lady who was staring as much as he was. "He's good with his hands," he smirked, and Amir nearly dropped it.

They passed a woman with sheets of white hair who shouted the names of the scaly, bird-like animals on her table at every passerby like they needed to be introduced. "Homeo!" she shrieked at Ronan, pointing to a perfectly half-black, half-white creature. The next, an exceptionally round one, "Domeo!"

"Wherefore art thou..." Ronan muttered.

Amir laughed, sudden and loud. He covered it with a cough when one of the freaky things looked right at him, and Ronan laughed so hard he nearly keeled over.

Amir shuddered. "What even are those things?"

"Rare breed of temperate penguin. Their saliva is said to have aphrodisiac effects."

That adorable furrow formed between his brows again. "Really? That's...wow."

"No, Amir, what the hell."

Amir jabbed him with the butt of his knife, but his eyes were bright. "Alright, then," he challenged, pointing his blade toward a thick, bubbling gray liquid being sold by the spoonful. "Since you're so smart, what's that?"

"Imported milk," Ronan said simply. "Do you want some?"

Pleasure warmed his chest at how much more relaxed Amir looked, shoulders sagging with his laughter as he had to drag Ronan away from the booth. It was a while later, after his made-up descriptions had gotten too elaborate to keep up with, that he realized Amir wasn't the only one. He couldn't remember ever feeling happy in this acrid market, let alone after such an awful night, but they had made it all the way through and he was still smiling.

"What are we doing for the rest of the day?" Amir asked as he climbed through the window into the abandoned bookstore that would lead them back to the city.

Ronan took Amir's (unnecessary, but charming) proffered hand. "First, I'll cook you dinner," he said, thinking about what he could put together with what was left of Amir's last parcel. He wanted it to be something good.

"I'll help."

"You'll watch."

"I'll watch."

Ronan ran his finger along the sun-bleached surface of a table. Flicking the dust from his gloves, he said, "Then, we'll clear the table..."

"Okay...?"

"So you can fuck me on it."

Amir made a noise like he'd inhaled Ronan's dust bunny.

"And then we'll fill a bath-"

"Sounds like we'll need it."

"And you can fuck me in there, too."

Amir whined, "Ronan."

"It might be a tight fit," Ronan considered pragmatically. He rationalized, "I'm sure we can make it work. If you sit down, and I get on top-"

"Ronan!"

𓃥𓃥𓃥

The Abrams house was in chaos when Ronan let himself in the next morning.

There were cushions on the floor. Simon kicked them aside, seemingly without noticing. He bumped his head against the doorway as his pacing led him into the kitchen and continued on like he didn't feel it.

Gideon and Micah played a game of cards that involved much slapping and screaming. Gideon must've won a round, because Micah reluctantly tossed away a small pouch; it hit the floor by Gideon's ass with a sound like jingling coins. A few moments later, he snatched the pouch back with a victorious yell.

"I hope you know neither of you is keepin' a single cent of that!" James shouted, water dribbling down his face after he'd downed a cup's worth like a dying man. He set it on the armchair, adding to the six cups and mugs already there.

Every chair at the kitchen table was out of place, like someone had been anxiously climbing in and out of them all morning. Probably Amos, who sat with his hands bracketing his face, staring with frighteningly wide blue eyes into the opening of a familiar bag. It looked as though everything on the table had been pushed onto the ground to make space, even though the bag itself only took up the center.

It was he who first noticed Ronan standing awkwardly in the doorway. He leapt to his feet, orange hair scattered like a flame around his head.

"Ronan, my boy, you won't believe what's happened!"

Everyone stopped. Simon paced back out of the kitchen. Then five loud voices at once:

"Just a sack of money-"

"-thought it had to be fake, but no-"

"-right on our doorstep!"

"Ever seen a rich man before, fucker? Well you have now!"

"Gid!"

"They even left a note! In a sealed envelope, all fancy-like-"

"From one of pa's rich customers, it's gotta be, I told ya kindness pays-"

"-thanking us, isn't that crazy?"

"Of course, as soon as I figure out who sent it, I'll have to return it..."

A collective groan went up.

"This again-"

"Are you quite serious?"

"That's the entire reason they sent it anonymously! It says it right on the note!"

"Paaaaa."

Four pairs of eyes glared at Amos, who had sat back down (in a different chair this time). He had schooled his smile, like he truly believed he could figure out the sender, but his eyes betrayed him, bright with the careful hope that the miracle he'd prayed for was truly upon them.

"In any case," he said, bringing a fist over his mouth like he couldn't quite fight off his smile after all. Ronan met his stare and wanted to cry a little. He'd done it. "Apologies, son, but I don't think I'll be much use to ya today. Brain's all," he waved his hands around his head. Ronan's smile was going to split his face. "Mind working the farm all day?"

Ronan was possessed to bow his head. "Of course. I..."

If anyone noticed his strangeness, they didn't comment.

"I am so happy for you."

That spurred four deafening cheers and a beaming smile from Amos. James chugged another cup of water. With all the commotion, Ronan failed to notice the sixth person missing from the scene until he got outside and realized he was looking for her.

He found Sadie on the hill overlooking the crops with her legs stretched before her.

"Planning to wait here 'til tomorrow's sunrise?"

He'd meant it as a joke, but the way she jumped, he wondered if she really had been sitting here since dawn.

"Lost in thought, I guess," she said.

Ronan dropped down next to her. "Ah, well it's been a crazy morning for you, hasn't it?"

Sadie only hummed. Ronan frowned.

"Something wro-?"

"The handwriting on the note looked familiar, didn't it?"

Ronan's mouth clamped shut. Amir had taken so much care to disguise his writing, even Ronan wouldn't recognize it if he didn't know.

"Not particularly."

He realized his mistake a second too late. Sadie was looking directly at him, watching his expression, as she slipped into her pocket and procured a piece of parchment that, as far as she knew, he hadn't seen yet, because she'd had it the whole time.

"Where did you get the money, Ronan?" she asked, carefully neutral.

Ronan faked a laugh. He was good at that. "Sadie, you realize who you're talking to, yeah?"

"Yeah," she said, harder than he'd heard her since- well, he'd never heard her sound like that. "'S how I know you're about as desperate to save this farm as the rest of us, and how I know you've been really fuckin' weird the last couple times I've seen ya. 'S how I know when you're lyin.'"

Frowning, Ronan said, "What are you accusing me of?"

"I don't know!" Sadie flared, throwing her hands up. "I'm trying to find out, 'cause none of pa's clients are that nice, bless his heart for believin' it. So I need you to tell me right now if this is dirty money, and I gotta worry about-"

"Sadie-"

"Some scary fuck on our doorstep comin' to lock my dad up because you thought it would be a great idea-"

"Sadie!" Ronan snapped. Her hands stilled mid-frantic gesture. Frightened eyes implored him for answers. "It isn't like that!"

"Then what's it like?" she begged. "'Cause I love you to death, but if you did something stupid I swear to god."

Ronan took her hovering hands and held them between their laps. "I would never put your family in harm's way," he said.

"Maybe not on purpose, but-"

"No, not at all," he insisted. "Not by accident, not indirectly- I know better than anyone that people like us don't have the luxury to be careless."

She pulled one hand away to drag her sleeve over her lip. It was still early, but the sun was punishing. "So you didn't hurt anyone to get it, or steal it, or..." she trailed off at the look in Ronan's eye.

"I didn't steal...all of it."

Squeezing her eyes shut, she whispered, "For God's sake, Ronan."

"I mean it! A lot was, ah, a favor. It doesn't matter either way, 'cause the money isn't what I stole. I stole items that are worth money from folks who don't need it, and I traded them in at this shop cops don't even know about. Absolute worst case scenario, the farthest it could get traced is back to me- and even then, it wouldn't make it that far, 'cause I've never told the broker my real name. But he's never been caught out, and I don't think he'd rat even if he was. Your family's fine, Sadie. Just take the damn money."

No response. Sadie was nodding along, eyes still closed tight. Ronan waited anxiously while she processed.

When she did, she flung her arms around his neck tight enough to cut off his airflow, sending him careening back into the grass.

"Feel better?" Ronan croaked with what little breath he could manage.

"Thank you," Sadie whispered, suspiciously thick. "Finally living up to your 'Hero' title, huh?"

They lay like that for minutes. It was gross and hot and sweaty, but he didn't even think of moving. He pretended not to notice the lingering redness in Sadie's eyes when she suddenly pushed off of him.

"You said 'never.'"

Ronan stared. "Huh?"

"Twice. You said never twice." Sadie's eyes were glowing. She smacked Ronan's chest. "You've done business with this broker man before! Ronan, you shifty fuck, are you-" she didn't even finish the sentence; the alarm on Ronan's face must've said enough. "You're a full-blown, repeat-offender, practiced thief!"

Not even Tony would be able to keep up with the emotional whiplash Ronan had both witnessed and experienced in the last half-hour. He was almost numb with it now, gaping stupidly as Sadie threw back her head and laughed, of all things.

"My goodness, who would've thought!" she managed. "Clumsy little Ronan-"

"I am not clumsy!"

"-A tried-and-true thief!" Her laughter sent her tumbling backward. As if summoned by the commotion, Edgar suddenly appeared, flitting around her head with all six legs prodding at her cheeks. He flew over to Ronan next, nudging his face as if demanding he laugh, too.

Ronan was too busy being stunned, and mildly offended.

"If he doesn't know your name," Sadie said, wiping tears. Ronan hated her. "What does he-" She gasped, both hands flying to her face. Edgar hurtled her way. "Doyouhaveanickname?"

Ronan rolled onto his stomach and groaned into the grass.

"By God, you do! What is it what is it what is it?" Hands on his shoulders thrashed him through the dirt.

Ronan couldn't lie to her, but he could hope his answering grumble would be muffled, or that she might not recognize the name.

The sudden silence that followed told him neither of these were true.

"Are you serious?"

Ronan tensed everywhere as it struck him, belatedly, that he might have taken this friendship thing a step too far, overestimated Sadie's trust in him. He had one panicked second to wonder if, after all of this, he would lose his place on the farm anyway - because who would want an infamous criminal near their family? - before he was forcefully turned onto his back.

Sadie was grinning down at him.

"Skeleton," she repeated like she was testing it. "When were you going to tell me you're a celebrity?"

"There is...a lot I haven't told you."

"I'll say! So does that mean- that complete ass you told me about, Virus-"

"Vito."

"-Is he Robin Hood? And the 'favor' you mentioned, did that have to do with the- wow, the Merry Men?"

"That was my sister, actually."

"You have a sister?"

So Ronan explained. Later, he would have to fight Amos to dock his pay for the day, because it was not a short story, and he and Sadie did nothing productive while he told it. He started at the very beginning, because he would only have to go back and fill in gaps if he didn't, and ended two nights before, on his run-in with Elena.

By the end, the sun was high, beating down on them. Sadie wasn't laughing anymore. Ronan's mouth was dry from overuse, but he preferred to stay slouched against her side than to seek out water. He'd just relived the last fourteen years of his life. He was exhausted.

"Do you think," Sadie said after minutes of silence, "You want to see her again?"

"No," Ronan said immediately, flinching at how quickly he realized it was a lie. He shrugged. "I don't want to fix things."

"But...?"

He burrowed into her neck, blinking when sweat stung his eyes.

"You don't have to let her get any closer than you want to," Sadie reassured. "If you want answers, take them. You're entitled to that much."

"It doesn't make sense, anyway. She lives hours away. It's pathetic, how often I used to make that walk."

"What's pathetic is lying to someone to protect your own cowardly ass."

"She was a child," Ronan granted weakly.

"So were you."

He gave a ragged sigh.

Sadie added, "And I was talking about your old man, but yeah, it goes for her, too. Also..." She tapped his shoulder, coaxing him to look up. Raising her head skyward, she cupped a hand around her mouth and gave a high, piercing, howl-like shout.

Moments later, three dark shapes appeared low in the sky, coming from the direction of the stables.

"Look who's back," she crooned. "If you decide to go, you don't gotta worry about the walk."

Ronan hurried to his feet, arms spread wide when Bandit landed. He rested his forehead between big brown eyes, and she flared her nostrils happily.

𓃦𓃦𓃦

Ronan waited, cross-legged at the end of the softest bed he had ever sat on, as soft features shifted beneath unblemished skin. Twisting lips, then a scrunching nose, then eyes blinking open - squinting, first, at the candlelight before meeting Ronan's and jumping wide.

In the second before they flashed with recognition, he held a finger over his mouth, and she swallowed her yelp. Ronan was reminded, briefly, of a pretty yellow bird in a cage.

Slowly, as though wary of another knife to her throat, Elena pushed herself upright. She said nothing, eyes roaming what she could see of Ronan's face with his hood pushed back. He did not bare his knife; in the two weeks since his last time here, nobody had broken down his door to arrest him. At the very least, he could count on her silence.

"You said bedrooms were on the third floor."

Ronan bit the inside of his cheek. He hadn't spent an hour of his evening pacing his house, mulling over what he could possibly say to his sister after so long, to lead with that. He was annoyed by his own stalling.

Elena blinked owlishly at him. "Oh- yes. My father's is, and my bedroom at the time was. I, um. I moved into a larger room when I was fourteen."

Ronan did not acknowledge this information. Elena's words drifted into a long, awkward silence and something of a staring contest.

She looked much like she had seven years ago. Skin the color of honey and eyes just as syrupy-sweet, thick black hair that fell in ripples to her waist, a round figure and rounder cheeks. She had taken her father's full face, his Eastern features, his two-toned hair, and yet she and Ronan couldn't have looked more different. Ronan only had to look around the room to remember where that difference came from.

Elena followed his gaze and jolted. "Oh! Sorry, I should have realized, let me find something..."

She scooted to the edge of the bed, eyes lingering for a moment before she turned her attention to her bedside table. Ronan stared after her, bemused, as she rifled through the drawers.

"I don't have much in the way of money, not in here, but..." She spoke in a loud whisper, turning back to Ronan with her palm extended. She seemed to notice her own shaking at the same time as he did; she dropped the item in her hand onto the mattress between them and quickly withdrew.

Ronan narrowed his eyes at the tiny box. "What is this?" he asked, even though he could tell.

"It's a pair of earrings, a gift from- ah, well, it was a gift."

"And why," he turned the box over in his hand but pointedly did not open it. "Are you giving it to me?"

"Is that...not why you're here?"

He raised his eyes, but she was looking down at the box. "It's not," he said simply.

For a moment, Elena appeared as though she'd been frozen. With her hair a mess and her nightgown wrinkled where she'd lain on it, she should have been a far cry from the girl in the miniature, but there was a portrait-like quality to her even now.

"Well," she said, and the image collapsed. "You can have it anyway."

The box fell onto the sheets. "I don't want it."

"Honestly," Elena insisted, nudging it toward him like he was being modest. "I don't need it."

"And I do?"

Her head snapped up at the edge to his voice.

The laugh that followed was even sharper. "I mean really, Elena," he sneered, twisting the elegant name into something ugly. "Think I'm so simpleminded you can win me over with something shiny? Think I didn't learn my lesson from pops?" He popped the box open, just so the studs would spill out when he tossed it back into her lap. "Save your charity ball for someone more impressionable - a child looking for his family, perhaps."

There it was, the whole reason he had come here tonight. Ronan remembered the shoes his father had given him. He had worn them every single day until they were scuffed and peeling - he had worn them as he stood on his father's doorstep pleading for a home. And even after the door was shut in his face, he hadn't stopped wearing them until Vito stole him a new pair, because they looked like they were hurtin' more than just your feet.

Anger surged fast in his chest. He rode its wave even as his sister's eyes pooled with tears, finally demanding, "Why? Why didn't you tell me? How could you sit back and watch that man let me down week after week and never even think to tell me?"

Elena clutched the empty box with one hand and her cheeks with the other, fingers splayed over her mouth as she drew a shaky break. "I thought about it every minute of every day."

"So then why didn't you?" Ronan hadn't meant to plead, but years of wondering had left him desperate. "If you cared about me at all-"

"Of course I care about you!" Ronan's words caught in his throat. "I was a coward!" Tears spilled over and she made no move to wipe them. "I was and I am and I hate that I didn't tell you, but- you were so happy to see him, and I was so young, and I thought you'd never come back if you knew!"

"I wouldn't have!" Ronan hissed. Elena shut her eyes tight. "And that should have been my decision to make! Instead, you let me walk three hours every week to make a fucking fool of myself! You protected our perfect little family when you should have protected me, and- fuck, maybe I'm not the biggest expert, but I'm pretty sure family takes care of one another, sister."

Elena sobbed into her hand. It took all of Ronan's willpower not to follow her lead, because he'd had more families than most in his lifetime and yet had never been properly taken care of, at least not when it mattered most.

"I was selfish." Elena hugged her legs to her chest, meeting Ronan's glare over her knees. "I was horrible for lying to you, and a day hasn't gone by that I don't regret it, and I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I'm sorry- if I could make it up to you I would, I will, I just don't know how, and-" She buried her face in her knees as her shoulders shook.

"And I'm so glad you came back."

Ronan's face went slack.

"I know that's selfish, too, but I- I've thought twice now that I'd never see you again, and I wouldn't get the chance to thank you for being the best part of my week for three years. You don't know this but you changed my life, you rewrote who I was and- Ronan, I am so sorry for how I repaid you. You don't have to forgive me, I just. I need you to know that it was never fake, for me."

She lifted her chin, a determined set to her eyes that wasn't there before. "So, thank you. For finding me."

Ronan couldn't hold her gaze. He dropped his head, and gravity pulled at his brimming tears. He yanked down the scarf to wipe his cheeks.

Pushing to his feet, he made for the window.

Elena didn't protest. "I think..." she trailed. "I know it was real to him, too. He cared for you, he just-"

Ronan hurtled through the window. Wind whipped around his ears for the second he was in free-fall. Bandit caught him with a grunt - he'd get dirty looks from her for days after a stunt like that.

He righted himself on her back and hugged her tight around the neck. As she rose, he caught a glimpse of his sister leaning through the window. Anguish morphed to shock on her face before his vision blurred and he sank into coarse gray hair.

The last thing he wanted to hear was how his father had loved him, just not enough.

𓃢𓃢𓃢

Song for this chapter: Never Gonna Be Alone by Jacob Collier