Once, when Zef had been working late, he'd got caught in a downpour so bad he'd sought shelter under the awning of an abandoned storefront. Under that tin roof, the noise of the rain hadn't been the soft, soothing rhythm that lulled him to sleep in his trailer. It had been something Biblical. A Noah-Get-the-Arc kind of flood. So deafening, his ears rang with it like radio static.

The sound ringing in his ears now is not dissimilar. As if Gray turned the channel, but it's still the same newscaster, rattling on the same story, lauding Bionic Capital for his invention.

Gray turns down the volume. "Heard it about an hour ago. I knew she'd launch a counter attack, just didn't know it'd be so soon."

"But that project, it's not ready. It wasn't even half-finished. We hadn't tested it, hadn't even built a working prototype."

"That won't matter. She'll have someone else run with the idea. Announcement isn't about putting the product on shelves right away, it's about you."

"If she thinks I'm dead—"

"She's hoping this'll smoke you out," Gray says. He rolls his shoulder, neck cracking. "Speaking of smokes, you got mine?"

Zef pats his pockets for them and hands them over. Gray rolls the window down and lights up.

Damo says, super motherly, "That shit'll kill you, you know."

Gray snorts. "Got other things tryin' to kill me faster than cancer."

"So, just to recap," Damo continues, "you came to our rescue because you saw this announcement, thought Zef would go coo coo cachoo and get himself caught?"

Zef is ready to take that personally until Gray shakes his head.

"Nah. Visited a few of my usual haunts. Seen Rylan's men lurking around there 'n figured she'd have sent some here, too."

Damo, already an animated individual, gets even more so while agitated. However, the truck's bench seat is squashed with the three of them, so he nearly hits Zef in the face when he throws up his hands, saying, "Neither of you are making this 'lay low' business easy on me!"

"And neither of you have been dealing with Rylan's bullshit for as long as I have, so simmer down and listen to the expert," Gray snaps. "Right now, we can't go back to the city. There's a music festival happening, and they're doing random breathalyser checks for drunk drivers. Traffic maps are red from here to the other side of Neorleans. Rylan'll use that to her advantage. Any cops in her pocket will be looking for your face."

A drop of blood from the knife had spattered on the windshield. It drips steadily downward. Zef's stomach drops with it. "So we're boned."

"Naw. Works out. I figure we can really hammer home to Rylan that you're dead if we play our cards right. Do you know any place remote 'n rural 'round here we could hide for the night?"

Zef thinks about it. Out of town, there was a stable where a farmer with an expired repair subscription had a busted tractor. He hired Zef to fix it off the record. The stable housed race horses, but this late nobody would be there, and Damo could loop any security cameras like he did at the motel.

He tells them where it is, and Gray drives the truck to a copse of woods where it'll be hidden from view and far from their hiding spot. They pile out and walk the rest of the way. Zef leads them across a field littered in cow pats to a stable. Without the sun's heat, the wind goes straight through Zef's clothes, making him shiver.

The soft whuff and nicker of horses greet them in the dark of the stable. The whites of their eyes show, ears flicking back, particularly when Gray passes.

"You smell like death, mate," Damo says.

"This is the best place I could think of to lay low," Zef says. "Nowhere to sleep except if you don't mind hay."

Gray shakes his head. "Nah. It's good."

"So, what's the rest of your plan?" Damo says. "The hammering home that Zef's dead bit?"

Gray stolidly avoided Zef's gaze the whole way here, but now his eyes flick towards him. It raises the hair on the back of Zef's neck. He knows that look. I'm not gonna like this.

"Come morning, the bayou will be crawling with Rylan's goons looking for me. I'm gonna let 'em see me."

Damo sucks on air and says, "Hate to be a downer, but that plan is dire."

"I'm gonna let 'em see me telling Zef's dad his son is dead," Gray finishes.

Zef goes from shivering and cold to fuming in a hot second.

"Let me finish," Gray says. "He knows you ain't dead, saw you this afternoon. I'm askin' for a performance, that's all. You said he was a soldier, some kinda spy, right? How good an actor is he? 'Cause if we can make it look real, then Rylan will quit pouring all her resources into finding you."

Zef says, "I already told him to fake a funeral."

"And how convincing is that gonna be if it seems like your dad just gave you up for dead without looking, without seeing your body?"

"Wait, wait, wait," Zef says. "Without seeing my body, so what? You want me to pretend to be a corpse?"

Gray shrugs, "You wouldn't have to act, just lie there."

Damo laughs so hard he startles a horse. "You just gonna pull up with Zef in a wheelbarrow and let Rylan's spies get a good look at Matthias sobbing over his son while he plays dead, but really he's just having a little power nap?"

"You sure got a way of making every plan sound stupid," Gray growls.

Damo does finger guns. "It is stupid."

"Well, we gotta get Rylan to call off her dogs somehow."

"And it's all we got," Zef finishes. He sighs, scrubbing his hair, which feels greasy as hell from a day spent in a wig. He'd give anything for a shower, an extra large burrito, and a twelve hour sleep. But he keeps recalling he's only lived like this for less than a day, while Gray's gone through it every day for— how many years? When did he first defect?

"I'll do it."

Damo raises his eyebrows. "Didn't think you both were the same brand of bonkers."

"I just have one question," Zef says. "Well, several, but the rest can wait. The one I'm wondering about now is, why bother? Why come after me? Why doesn't Rylan just assume I'm dead or I've skipped town rather than go to all this trouble?"

Gray says, "You're a threat."

"No, I'm not. I'm not anybody. I'm just an ex-employee who fucked up a job for her. I've got no power. I can't even use my implant right now."

"No power?" Gray huffs, but he looks discomfited, like what he's about to say is a minefield he's gotta dance around. "She's lived her whole life at the top. Hasn't had a single problem money couldn't solve. The thing about having that much power is the only thing left to fear is someone taking it away." He pauses, gaze distant. "That moment you took the chip and closed the door... First time I've seen her afraid."

Zef hadn't realised in the moment he'd made an enemy.

Knowing it now, would he do it again?

Seeing the faraway look in Gray's eyes, he knows the answer.

In a heartbeat.

They iron out a few more details to the plan. Though Zef can't shake the feeling they're rushing things, reactionary and defensive while Rylan closes in. Always one step behind her. A grim insight into Gray's life.

"Right," Damo says. "Well, now we've got our shit together— haphazardly, but I'll take it— you two should hunker down in that hay and get some shut eye."

Gray shakes his head. "I'll keep watch."

"No, I, the literal machine that doesn't need sleep and has uncanny vision, will keep watch," Damo says.

"I can't—"

"Try," Damo orders. "Listen, I know you ain't got a talent for it, but sleep is pretty damn essential to you mere mortals. I know you think you're holding it together, 'n maybe you're foolin' Zef, but he can't see what I'm seeing. Your adrenal system is in crisis. Your heart's heaving so hard I might have to admit you to a real hospital. Seriously, you're not even running on fumes. All I gotta do to refuel is have a sip from the swamp. I'll keep watch. You, sleep."

The look Gray gives him is a two part cocktail. Fifty percent disbelief, fifty percent fury. It sounds like an old fight—the kind they've had before.

Zef reaches for Gray's hand, hoping to disperse the tension. "I could try and help—"

Gray snatches his hand away like Zef's touch burns. "Ain't no help for it."

He heads away, searching the stalls for an unoccupied one. The horses shift and skitter in his wake. Zef lets his hand drop, a pit opening in his stomach.

Damo sighs and puts an arm around Zef's shoulders. "He'll come 'round, mate."

Zef doesn't say what's on his mind. That he thought he'd gotten past some of Gray's guard as they'd worked together on the plan. It seemed some friendly camaraderie had thawed the icy stormfront between them. Only temporary. Back to square one. Makes him afraid the Gray who got him riding mechanical bulls and stealing motorbikes really had just been a mirage. A taste of aspartame, sweet as honey to start and now all Zef's got left is the bitter aftertaste.

Hollowly, he says, "Yeah."

Ignoring the stinging in his heart, he goes to the empty stall Gray stands in front of.

There's only one.

Zef could laugh. All that romantic fanfiction he used to read in his angsty teen years, and all the times there'd been only one bed, but no. Zef had to get 'only one hay bail' and a boy who wouldn't look at him anymore.

Gray slides the stall open and kicks the hay into two piles on opposite ends.

"Thanks," Zef murmurs, sinking into it. The hay prickles and scratches his skin. It always looked so much softer in the movies. Still, it gives off a little more warmth than the night air. He curls up and closes his eyes.

Sleep doesn't come. Not just 'cause it's uncomfortable as hell, but 'cause the humidity that made the day so hot makes the night cold. Zef's dress shirt makes a lousy nightie. He shivers, body too tense to sleep. The pain in his chest throbs, sharpened after a harrowing day and more acute now he has nothing to distract him.

He cracks his eyes open to see if Gray's had more luck. At first, in the dark, it's hard to make him out. Gray sits against the wall next to the stall door, closed except for a small gap. He peers through it, arms crossed atop his knees.

Maybe it's the deep shadows of the barn or Damo's adamant speech, but the hollows under Gray's eyes look darker as smudged eyeliner. His lips wrap around a toothpick. He picks at his cuticles.

Zef wishes he had the guts to close the distance and curl up next to Gray. Would be warmer. Wishes the thought didn't make the ache in his chest worse with memories of Gray telling him none of the earlier affection between them mattered.

Gray shifts, his gaze flicking towards Zef. Zef shuts his eyes and feigns sleep. After a moment, he hears the noise of hay moving and Gray's footsteps. Something heavy and warm drops over him, smelling like tobacco and barnyard and leather.

Gray's jacket chases away some of the night chill. The fist of Zef's heart slowly unfurls, warmer too. Finally, he gets some sleep.

~ * * * ~

Zef finding himself cradled in Gray's arms on the way up the boardwalk is somehow not the weirdest part of his day so far.

The weirdest part isn't how alarmingly easy it was to make him appear dead, either. After sleeping in a barn and a near-death experience, he already looks haggard. Gray had a shirt soaked in blood pre-prepared for him after stabbing two dudes to death.

No, the weirdest thing, the thing making Zef's heart race as Gray carries him towards his trailer, is that this is how Gray is going to meet Zef's dad.