Rontu sat with his back against the cabin and stared at the sky. The morning had come not too long ago, swathes of orange and red now dotting the horizon. His legs splayed out as he fidgeted with something in his hand, running his thumb over the smooth texture of the little cylinder he had found in the Glassway.

He heard a click, the sound of the cabin door unlatching. His eyes flicked to the left as it swung open, Archie poking his head out and looking around for a moment before moving his gaze lowered.

“You ain’t asleep yet?” Archie asked him quietly, stepping out and gently closing the door behind him. With a strained grunt, he lowered himself down next to Rontu, bringing a knee up and resting his arm on it. “Something on your mind?”

Rontu let out a light snort, letting his head fall back against the Gemmer before turning to look at his visitor. “Something? Nah, I think it’s a lot of somethings.”

“That’s a way to put it, I suppose,” Archie chuckled. “Things have been pretty crazy ever since we left Lowlam. Hell, before we left.”

The two were quiet for a moment. From their hasty escape to their quick capture, the pair hadn’t quite had the time to really mourn for their lost home. They sat in their silence, the stillness only occasionally broken by the sound of the gentle breeze.

“I guess we’re lucky Shen was there,” Rontu said, breaking the tranquility.

Archie looked at him in surprise, shock even. “You had quite the hand in that yourself there, kid.”

Rontu pulled his knees close, resting his hands on top of them as he let the cylinder dangle from his fingertips. “Judging by my recent performance, I guess I just have to take your word for it.”

The older man scowled, harshly clapping his hand across the back of Rontu’s head. “Ah. None of that pity talk. I’ve never seen you get down on yourself like this before, and I don’t wanna see it now.”

Rontu flinched, rubbing the back of his head with his hand. “Sheesh. You haven’t hit me like that since I was a teenager and worked the food stand,” he grumbled. “And then you fired me.”

Archie shot him an incredulous look, seemingly alarmed at the audacity of Rontu’s words. “Work? You?” he growled. “You said you would cover for me and then left! You were off playing in the desert as usual!”

“Yeah, you said it was only gonna be for a minute and then you didn’t come back! I stood there for an hour until I said ‘this sucks’ and left,” Rontu retorted, looking back at the scruffy man next to him.

The two stared at each other for a moment, sudden smiles spreading across their mugs as they burst into laughter. It was much needed after the past few days they had experienced, a brief air of respite from the horrors they had been through.

“I’m gonna miss it,” Archie said, exhaling from his nose. “There were a lotta interesting people. Lowlam seemed to be a breedin’ ground for them. Guess that’s how you were spawned,” he playfully ribbed, elbowing Rontu.

Rontu softly nodded. “My parents were part of the original group that founded Lowlam. I was conceived and born right on the glass,” he sighed nostalgically. “Guess it’ll always be a part of me.”

“I wish I had a chance to meet your folks. Would have given them a good word lashing about the cheeky bastard they raised.”

The cheeky bastard smirked in response, shaking his head. “They’d have been right there with you, trust me.”

“Well, at least you admit it, ”Archie smugly smiled before he got to his feet. He placed his hand on Rontu’s shoulder and gave it a reassuring grip. “But, I’ll give you a pass. We’ve been through a lot, and I wouldn’t be standing here if it wasn’t for you and those other two.”

Rontu gave Archie’s hand a light pat before he released him. “So what, are you gonna keep us kids in line?” he snorted, looking up at his old friend.

“You and Shen? Sure. The girl?” Archie paused before shrugging and letting out a low chuckle. “Well, there’s a reason I never wanted a daughter.”

______________________

The sliding door to the bunk had been tightly shut and locked from the moment she laid down. The dim overhead light was just barely enough to make out her arm as she stared at the thin line of black ink wrapped around it, counting each notch over and over.

“Ten…”

“Eleven…”

“Twelve…”

Serratia paused her mental counting, her distracted eyes softly trailing down her tanned skin. She traced the raised scar tissue and lightly picked at the whitened pockmarks from some past trauma. She couldn’t remember where those ones had come from. They didn’t appear to be recent. Did she get those while she was with Horn? Or were those from when she ran with Jericho? Hoover maybe?

Slowly she looked back at her tattoo, her finger lightly pressing against each prong in the line as she counted in her head.

“Eleven…”

“Twelve…”

She let out a long and heavy sigh, rolling over as she buried her face in the smooth comfort of the cloth pillow. Her hands clenched into fists as her body curled into a ball underneath the comforter.

It should have been fourteen.