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At the beginning of the end….
Vaughn had watched powerless as his old home plummeted from space to the harsh surface of Pandora. His heart lurched violently in his chest, which still hammered from his brave escape from Vallory and her thugs, and he found himself running without thought to the the flames and smoke of the crash site. Someone must have made it out. They’d come too far for this to end now, and for it to end like this.
Twisted metal and choking clouds of ash marked the final resting place of Helios. Vaughn saw shadows through the carnage, grateful to find survivors despite the state of the wreckage, though his heart sunk guiltily when none of them are who he hopes against all chance to see. He moved through what were once immaculate hallways of glass and steel, catching sight of the odd cracked plant pot or flickering monitor. Sometimes there was a splatter of blood, lost phones and tablets, or torn clothes. Vaughn tried not to look, knowing better than to allow himself to dwell on it. Not so long ago that would have been easier said than done, but Pandora has changed him. Perhaps he was harder now, his skin a little thicker.
There was no discernible trail to follow. He didn’t know if any of them had managed to leave Helios at all before it came down. But as soon as Vaughn had broken away from Vallory and her thugs he had hurried to the Helios crater. A few smashed pods had landed moments before the moon base itself but none of them contained familiar faces; some of them barely held bodies with anything close to a face at all.
Don’t think about it, Vaughn, don’t think about it. Gotta find Rhys, Fiona, anyone…
Finally he comes to a clearing in the carnage. Tall screens frame a coincidental stage, all of them broken, and at the centre, a bloodied metal spike. A yellow arm is impaled upon it, splattered in crimson red at the shoulder joint. And it’s fresh blood. Vaughn scrambles through the charred ruins and stares as he reaches it, torn between reaching to remove it from the spike and leaving it where it is, unable to believe what he’s seeing. Or rather not wanting to see it or believe it.
‘RHYS!’ he cries, spinning around, turning his back on the grisly robotic limb, his eyes frantically searching the smoke for any sign of his missing friend. But his urgent shout is answered by nothing but the crackle of flames and the snapping of framework.
***
A while after that….
‘What about you?’ the Stranger asks, shifting their aim of the shotgun in their arms to Rhys, who is still tied up and still covered in dirt and still really, really not wanting to talk about the time before he’d been called back to Prosperity Junction.
Things had been going well up until this point; he’d managed to put most of his feelings behind him. True, he could have attempted to look for the others, but what was the use in holding back on old feelings, ones he might never satisfy? He’d had to move forward to survive.
‘After I came to, I grabbed the rights to Atlas on Pandora from Jack’s office.’ he says, not wanting to look at Fiona or the Stranger while he spoke, ‘Figured I could use it to build something. A fresh start’
With no energy left to take a single step further, Rhys collapses onto his back, into the dust of the Pandoran plain. He lifts his head weakly to watch the billowing clouds of black spiral away from the glowing wreckage of Helios, the place he once called home. Now just the sight of the felled moonbase made him feel sick. He had done this. He had killed thousands of people and destroyed an entire company (albeit not a very altruistic one) all to put an end to Handsome Jack.
Somehow it didn’t feel like much of an achievement at all.
Where could he go from here? Fiona must have landed near here, or at least not far away. And Sasha would be alright, he hoped. And Vaughn… Could he have gotten away? Or did Vallory still have him? Would he have any real chance of a reunion on this hellhole of a planet, when so much of it was still alien to him, and he was alone, both literally and figuratively unarmed?
For now Rhys knew he would have to press on alone. The Atlas deed might be a new start, one worth trying at least. It was better than nothing. And maybe, if he could survive for long enough, he might see his friends again.
‘At that point it made sense to head back to the Atlas facility we left. Got it going again. Luckily it was well stocked. A whole lotta fruit.’ Rhys continues, and he flexes his silver prosthetic as he speaks, ‘Fixed myself up, worked on some prototypes.’
It’s now that Rhys turns to Fiona, fixing upon her with a withering glare. ‘Obviously that was all after she ditched me on Helios.’
‘Even if that was what happened, could you blame me?’ Fiona counters. She feels the anger biting in her throat but mostly subdues it. After the failed deal for the Vault Key and the chaos which followed, she had every right to be furious. Rhys - with Handsome Jack’s often unwanted help - had ruined their lives, plain and simple.
‘Go on, punk. Quit stalling.’ a familiar voice demands, followed by the sound of footsteps approaching the makeshift shelter that the Stranger had dragged Fiona and Rhys to.
‘Kroger?’ Fiona murmurs.,
Rhys grunts in disgust and gives the Stranger an accusing look. ‘Really? What is this shit?’
Fiona manages to lean against the railings behind her, pushing herself to her feet despite her bindings as the Stranger moves to greet Kroger and his captive - a small masked figure, wrapped in cloth and bandages. A bandit?
‘A debt needs to be repaid.’ the Stranger, ever cryptic, announces to them both before descending the stairs.
Having also managed to lift himself from the floor, Rhys moves closer to better see events as they unfold. ‘What is that supposed to mean?’ he hisses to Fiona.
Before she can respond, Kroger kicks his prisoner in the back, and they collapse forward into the dirt before lifting their head to the approaching Stranger.
‘Yo, man. You didn’t tell me this dude would be holed up in a bandit camp.’ Kroger says, clearly annoyed by the Stranger’s instructions - or lack thereof, ‘The whole damn place was coming after me.’
‘You seem fine.’ the Stranger counters, shotgun raised.
‘Wouldn’t stick around. Only a matter of time before they come through here.’ he warns.
‘I’ll take my chances.’
Kroger huffs. ‘Whatever.’ he sighs, before he sees the two figures stood behind the Stranger. Pistol in hand, he approaches. ‘Oh, look here, we got Fiona and her corporate chump.’
‘The name’s Rhys, thanks.’
‘Look at you, all wrapped up like birthday presents.’ Kroger says, then focuses on the Stranger once more, ‘Look, I brought you your bandit boss. We gonna make the trade or what?’
Finally lowering their shotgun, the Stranger turns away from Kroger. ‘Two for one. Can’t beat that. Take them.’
‘Nah, they ain’t making it out of here.’ Kroger decides, climbing the stairs towards Fiona and Rhys. He draws a knife from his belt, the blade sharp and glinting in the low light of the evening. ‘This is personal.’
As he steps closer to Fiona, who is unable to defend herself, Rhys searches for something, any solution to the problem. There had to be a solution.
‘You can’t let him do this!’ he begs of the Stranger, who continues to stand idly by.
‘If you’ve got some last words…’ Kroger trails off, his knife now hovering near Fiona’s face, seconds from slashing her apart. He reaches forward and pulls her close by her bindings; she leans away as far as she can, Kroger’s knife poised above her as he speaks. ‘Best get ‘em out now.’
But before Fiona can reply, even with a smart retort on her tongue as ever, the grey cloth of the Stranger’s arms wrap around Kroger’s throat. The mercenary chokes and gurgles, his limbs flailing uselessly against the seemingly superhuman grip of his assailant. With a sickening crunch, Kroger falls lifelessly atop of Fiona, his neck snapped and his body stilled.
‘Whoa. Whoa whoa whoa whoa…’ Rhys repeats, as Fiona shoves Kroger’s dead weight off herself with a small grunt.
‘Stop saying that.’ she admonishes, though she is unsurprised that such a reaction is all he is capable of. Same old Rhys, even with his new fancy arm and refurbished ECHO implant.
The Stranger returns to the stairs, approaching Kroger’s former captive. ‘Don’t even think about running.’ they warn as they near the supposed bandit boss. Rhys and Fiona follow and stand by the Stranger as the bandit extends his arms in surrender, rising to his feet before lowering one arm and leaving the other in a two-fingered salute.
‘What is he doing?’ Rhys asks, ‘This… This is weird.’
The bandit twists his wrist, and as the three glance down at their chests, little red dots greet them, aimed steadily over the centre of their ribs. Kroger had warned them - seems his camp had caught up after all.
‘Hahaha, ho, great. A firing squad. I just hit murder bingo!’ Rhys shouts, once again glaring at Fiona as if this were somehow her fault.
With a closed fist now, those held under the scrutiny of his snipers knowing better than to try to run or react, the bandit points forward. Fiona flinches, bracing for the bullets that will tear through her flesh, but they don’t come. Instead she opens her eyes, and sees now that the three laser dots are now aimed only on the Stranger, who drops their shotgun and faces the bandit without a word.
Clearly confident that he has control of the situation, the bandit climbs the stairs. Fiona and Rhys back away, but the Stranger still does not move. The bandit kicks the Stranger squarely in the waist, forcing them onto their back, and reveals a knot of rope. With a head tilt and not a single sound, the bandit ties the Stranger before retrieving Kroger’s knife and advancing on Fiona. Yet he uses the sharp blade to cut away her bindings, before doing the same for Rhys.
‘Alright!’ the bandit leader calls in a gravelly voice, ‘Laser pointers off.’
‘Laser pointers…?’ Fiona repeats, her gaze moving from the shadows of snipers among the rocks nearby to the bandit at her side.
‘The Children of Helios try to avoid guns when it comes to conflict resolution.’ the masked man beside her replies, only he is no longer masked, and his voice is nowhere near as rough and deep as it had been before. The man was bearded, and had long brown hair drawn back in a practical bun, but Rhys knew he’d recognised those disproportionate abs anywhere.
‘Vaughn?!’ he exclaims, relief and joy flooding through him and bleeding into his voice. He envelopes the smaller man in a hug, lifting him clean off his feet. Rhys feels the bristles of a beard against his own shaven cheek, and laughs despite himself. Vaughn is alive, and he has a beard? He had always shaved it off, both in college and at Hyperion because he claimed that it never grew right. And yet somehow Pandora had turned him into a rugged rogue - and a bandit boss, no less. It suited him, in a way Rhys never could have predicted. ‘I thought I lost you, buddy!’
He sets Vaughn back down on his feet, and now Vaughn’s arms are free he can return the hug. He presses his face into Rhys’ chest and can smell the familiar scent of his best friend through a faint odor of sweat and whatever other scents one inherits when outside on Pandora for too long.
‘Same here, man. I can’t believe this.’ he enthuses, ‘I tried to look for you at the crash, for any real sign of anybody. I found…. I found your old arm. All covered in blood, and the torn shoulder and wires.’
‘Yeah, that hurt like a bitch.’ Rhys admits, rubbing the same joint now that Vaughn has released him. Phantom pain still torments him from time to time, where metal meets bone and tissue.
Fiona clears her throat, and Vaughn turns with a smile. ‘Hey, Hat Lady.’
‘Hey, Glasses Face. Minus the glasses though, huh. It’s a good look.’
‘Ya think so?’
‘Yeah.’ Fiona and Rhys reply simultaneously. There’s a silence and then Rhys laughs awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. ‘It works on you, man. It is a good look on you. For you. Uhh.’
Silence again. After a beat, Fiona rolls her eyes and waves a dismissive hand, already heading down the steps away from them and the bound Stranger. ‘Don’t mind me.’
Both Vaughn and Rhys glance at the Stranger, who in turn watches them with a single glowing yellow light. A wordless stare hangs between the two men and their would-be captor before the Stranger sighs and turns their head. It’s a feeble gesture but it’s the best on offer at that exact moment.
‘So, uhm… The arm’s cool.’ Vaughn offers weakly.
‘My own design. Worked out a few of the kinks from the old model. I’m using Atlas to build on what Hyperion left, you know? I liked the irony of the idea. Can’t go wrong with a little corporate irony.’
‘And Jack? Is he….?’
‘He’s gone.’ Rhys confirms. By his tone it’s hard to tell if he is grateful, wistful, or perhaps both. ‘My thoughts are all my own for good.’
‘Probably for the best.’ Vaughn says, and he shifts on his feet. The space between him and Rhys is reduced slightly. Rhys can feel Vaughn’s breath on the bare expanse of his long neck where the shorter man has to tilt his head up to meet Rhys’ eyes properly.
Rhys offers his hand - the one of soft skin - and takes one of Vaughn’s in it. The sudden relief flooding between them, one they had suppressed where hope had slipped away, is unbearable. Once more they embrace, Rhys’ metal hand pressing Vaughn’s head to his chest as Vaughn’s unoccupied hand loops around Rhys’ waist. Their hands remain clapped at their sides and gripped tightly. It feels as if they will both slip away if either one of them released the hold.
‘I really thought I’d lost you.’ Vaughn murmurs into Rhys’ chest, immediately aware of the thud of a heartbeat close against his cheek through shirt fabric.
‘Same here.’ Rhys readily admits, his mouth against Vaughn’s scalp as he breathes him in. All at once he is the same man who cohabited in college dorms with Rhys for three years, and at the same time an entirely new person with a gnarly beard and a gang of bandits at his disposal. But still his friend; his best friend, in fact.
Is that what this was? Friendship? Is that what caused this ache, this unsatisfied longing, the urge to press closer still even when such a thing could not be possible?
***
On the eve of battle….
Having drifted away from their companions and the Vault Hunters that had assembled at the ruins of Helios, Rhys and Vaughn find a quiet spot to sit and talk. This strange unspoken thing had gone just that - strangely unspoken - for a few days now. Or perhaps it could be argued that this had been years in the making, since their first days as friends in college. One could not have survived the hardships of strangers and hangovers without the other, just as they had endured the wastelands of Pandora together before they could find their feet on its harsh sandy surface alone.
As they walk in comfortable silence, Vaughn finds his hand in Rhys’ again. Their reunion had not been the most intimate moment between them both; more than once they had awoken curled around in each other in bed after raucous nights out or even just movie days with Yvette back in their Hyperion days. There had always been an unabashed companionship between them which knew few bounds.
‘You ever wonder what it might be like now if it had been real?’ Rhys asks.
‘If what had been real?’
‘The Vault Key. The one Fiona and Sasha tried to sell us.’
‘Oh.’ Vaughn responds, and huffs with amusement, ‘No, I don’t. Not much point. And we got a Vault after all. More than we bargained for, really. At least we’re ready this time.’ He stops and makes Rhys do the same, and he looks up at the taller man quizzically, his brow upturned. ‘Why, do you?’
Rhys shrugs. ‘Sometimes. The once and future kings, you said we’d be. I’m the boss, but not of Hyperion. Atlas was not an element I could have ever predicted.’
‘Sounds like you’ve made it your own.’
‘Says the man who organised a borderline military force out of a bunch of pencil pushers, number nerds, and corporate assholes.’
‘What can I say? Maybe I was meant for middle management too.’ Vaughn muses, a grin forming on his face with the words.
‘No way. Numbers are your thing. Organising resources, rotations…. Perfect skills for a Pandoran outlaw, I’ll bet.’ Rhys teases back, nudging Vaughn and grinning too. ‘Counting loot, dividing whatever shitty food there is to eat on this planet….’
They laugh and take a seat on a miraculously intact bench, scorched and a little bent but still in enough shape to sit upon. The iconic H of a dead company is engraved on the end of the seat - Vaughn is compelled to sit over it. The wall behind them bares a spotless advertisement for Sanctuary, the shining buildings lined with rows of Loader Bots. Strange to think that such a weapon of war would become one of their closest allies.
‘Do you ever wish you could go back?’ Rhys asks.
‘Fuck no.’ Vaughn replies. His tone is firm, as if somehow the thought of such a thing scares him.
‘Me neither.’ he agrees. Rhys moves closer, looping his arms over Vaughn’s narrower shoulders and keeping him closer. He rests their heads together and presses his face into Vaughn’s hair.
Despite it all - bandits, Vault Hunters, maniacal AIs, and the unending shitstorm Pandora has on offer - they had survived to this moment. Not even the destruction of a moonbase and the ensuing chaos could prevent them from finding their way back to one another again.
The feelings between them remained unspoken. But with the gentle press of Rhys’ lips to Vaughn’s forehead, enough was said.