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Tomorrow, he’ll leave Night City for good. But tonight, there is one last thing, a loose end to tie up.
V… V would hate him for calling it that. Though, Johnny thinks it’s fitting. Keeping a final promise to the guy he screwed over. How could he not feel like a thief? Not only did he steal V’s body, but also every semblance of happiness from the merc and his girl.
God, it’s been months since that terrible night at Arasaka. He had made his peace with the end and V… V just pulled the rug out from underneath him. All the merc had requested was for Johnny to do this one last thing, something he should have done the instant he woke up alone in this body. Instead, he waited six months. Why did he hesitate? Was he scared?
No, he isn’t fucking scared of anyone or anything. He’s Johnny Fucking Silverhand. He’s gone to hell and back. He isn’t afraid of some petite redhead who couldn’t be more than a buck twenty soaking wet.
“Then, why are you parked in the rain like some kind of gonk?” A voice whispers into his brain, sounding suspiciously like V’s.
His heart wrenches at the thought, yearning for V to be there. Unfortunately, there are no other passengers. Just him and his secondhand body. He should appreciate this gift but can’t help but curse the merc every second he draws breath. This gift was tainted.
When they had entered Mikoshi, he had every intention of drifting off into the dark and finding that eternal abyss once and for all, but the second Alt split them apart V just… the merc fractured, revealing how the engram truly fucked V over.
He tried to force the merc back into his body, knowing V’s time would be limited, but V… the self-sacrificing gonk wouldn’t let it happen.
“My number will still come, faster than I want it to,” V had said, weakly leaning against the well. “And I’d rather one of us have the chance at a full life.”
Johnny had tried to tell him, he really did, that time is an illusion. The lives they’ve lived… who’s to say it couldn’t have been full. Meaning isn’t in the moments you have in front of you, but rather in what’s made in the moments you have.
He tried to convince the merc not to do it, citing all the reasons V needed to stay, but they were superficial, except for one. A tiny ginger, slumbering away inside of Judy’s lakeside home.
“Phee,” V had smiled, brightening on the net for a brief second. “Meeting her was the best thing that ever happened to me… but I can’t… I can’t let her watch me fade away. Not like that. It’d be cleaner for me to leave now… without all that pain.”
Better for who? He had wanted to scream at the merc, but V had been flickering in and out, fading with each second. Johnny’s been a part of V long enough to know when the merc made up his mind, so he agreed to say goodbye. But… he couldn’t do this right.
He took the coward’s way out and buried himself away in a shit-hole room in Pacifica until the last moment. Even worse, he drove out here and couldn’t muster the courage to knock on the door. All it would take is a few short words. Yet, getting out of the car proves challenging.
If Kerry were here, the little shit would laugh and call him a wimp for pussying out, but he would be right. Johnny needed to pull his head out of his ass and bite the bullet once and for all. But the thought of cruelly delivering these words to her… didn’t seem right.
Snubbing out the cigarette, he pushes open the driver’s door and flicks it on the ground. The icy storm embraces him, drenching his clothes in a matter of seconds. It’s unpleasant as he crosses the distance to the house resting by the water. The rain beats against the surface, sending out ripples. Lifting a hand, he doesn’t second guess himself. He pounds his fist on the wood.
Thunder rumbles overhead, followed by the crack of lightning. He braces himself on the door frame, wondering if the storm swallowed the sound. The kitchenette light flickers, shining an amber light out the window. Her small silhouette drifts closer. His heart thunders in his chest with the drag of time. The door squeaks open, revealing her pale face.
God. He’s seen her countless times through the haze of the merc’s eyes, but never like this. The occasions V loosened the leash and handed over control, it was with the promise of leaving Phee alone. Johnny obeyed, even though a small part wanted to rebel for the hell of it. But V had been courteous and willing to share his body. So, he played nice and kept away from her. It felt like breaking the rules to be here… to be seeing her.
“V,” her aquamarine eyes widen.
His gut clenches. She’ll be brokenhearted once she finds out.
She loosens the grip on the door and steps barefoot onto the porch, wearing V’s favorite shirt. Her hands gently cup his face. He selfishly leans into the touch, relishing the warmth that seeps into his skin.
“V,” she whispers again, tears dripping down her cheeks, leaving him colder than the rain ever could. “Is that you?”
His heart clenches at the hope in her voice, but he covers her hand with his. “I’m sorry, Ophelia.”
The sob slides out. She starts to collapse, but he drops her hands and catches her around the waist. Her body stiffens. For a moment, he anticipates being shoved away or maybe even slapped, but she shifts and buries her face into his chest. Shudders wrack her body. Her sobs are soft, and muted, like she’s trying to smother it. He hates feeling so powerless.
He can do what V cannot. He can hold, comfort, and be there for her.
The storm pours around them, pattering against the tin roof and lake. He’s not sure how long they stand there, but she calms, even if she’s still trembling. It’s colder, the temperature dropping with each second. It didn’t help that they were both soaked.
“Come on,” he whispers, ushering her inside. “You’ll get sick if we don’t warm you up.”
He kicks the door shut behind them, moving to crank up the heater. She idles in the center of the living room, seeming lost. He can’t look, avoiding it by heading into the back room for some dry clothes and a blanket. When he returns, she is right where he left her, though her arms have encircled her midsection, like it’s the only thing holding her together.
“Here,” he passes her the stack. “I’ll give you some space and make you something warm to drink.”
The second her hands grasp the fabric he turns, offering a semblance of privacy. None of his exes would consider him chivalrous, to which he’d agree, but this… this felt more private than stripping down with someone. Ophelia was in a vulnerable place. She deserved whatever scrap of respect he could offer. Not just for V’s sake. No, there’s this need to protect her.
Perhaps it was his latent connection with V, echoing in the distant reaches of his mind. Maybe that’s why he feels this way.
Stepping into the kitchenette, he turns the kettle on and rifles through the cabinets. Fabric shifts from behind him followed by a wet plop of something hitting the ground.
“There’s some synth-coco in the back,” her sweet voice whispers as her bare feet pad across the floor.
“Hmm?” He peers over his shoulder, finding her beside him.
“Upper cabinet,” she gestures, hip-checking him out of the way.
She balances on her tiptoes. The hem of the baggy shirt rises. Habit draws his eyes to the thin line of black panties. He forces his gaze away, though it doesn’t help. The image is seared into his brain.
His heart hammers against his sternum and there’s this twisting in his gut. It reminds him of his first crush, which is ridiculous. He was a rock star with more than his fair share of groupies. Hell, there was a time when he couldn’t leave the house without some chick exposing her tits or offering to blow him. He didn’t do crushes. Yet, the barest glimpse of her underwear has him feeling things he has no right to be feeling.
He needs to focus. His only job is to say V’s goodbyes. Nothing more and nothing less. Time to do his part, then delta.
“Here, let me help.” He says, needing to hurry things along.
He’s already moving before realizing the mistake. The front of his body presses against her back when he reaches up for the box. She leans into him. His entire body freezes.
“V and I used to drink hot chocolate on nights like this,” she whispers.
He drops his hand but doesn’t move. How should he respond? What should he do? V didn’t exactly outline this, and he wasn’t prepared despite sitting around for six months. A simple apology seems worthless, but he owes her something. He supposes he’ll just have to settle for the truth.
“I tried… I tried to make him come back,” he murmurs. “I really did, but he…”
His voice cracks. The words stick in his throat. It’s been six months. He should be past this, but it felt like there was this open wound inside of him. How could he ever heal? He was reminded of what happened every time he looked into a mirror.
Closing his eyes, he fights for the words, hoping she’ll allow him to get them out before kicking him to the curb. He promised V he would… he promised…
“He would have died anyway, wouldn’t he?” She asks.
“Yes,” he grunts. “But he still should have come back. He should be the one here with you… not me.”
The air shifts in front of him and warm hands cup his face again. He opens his eyes to her serene blue, a color that calls out to his soul.
“Then, you both would have died,” her eyes brimmed with tears.
Despite the pain in them, he finds her stunning, the same way he felt after seeing her for the first time through V’s eyes.
He curls his hands over hers, unable to resist the urge to be closer… to be near. “You deserve better than this. You deserve all the happiness he could have given you, no matter how brief. Instead, you get a second-rate goodbye from someone who can’t even describe how much you meant to him.”
He brushes away her tears with the edge of his thumb, hating the pain he’s caused. It’s all he ever seems to bring people. He wishes he could spare her this.
“V asked you to be here when he couldn’t,” her lip trembles. “To do what he couldn’t.”
He nods, unable to look away from the intensity of her gaze. A man could easily fall in love with eyes like those. Loss hits him like a punch to the gut when they close.
She leans forward, resting her head against his chest. “I suppose you should tell me, then.”
The contact felt so natural.
“How?” He presses his cheek on top of her head as his arms pull her close. “How can I say it without causing you any more pain?”
That was the last thing he wanted. He’d rip out his own heart first, or willingly endure another lifetime trapped away in the darkness of the engram.
She lifts her head, gazing at him with those eyes. They were close. All it would take is a subtle shift and then their mouths would align.
“Show me,” she breathes.
Everything in him stills. “What?”
Instead of answering his question, she leans into him and closes the distance. The press of her lips is feather-light against his, but it doesn’t stop the jolt from vibrating through his body. For a moment, he forgets himself.
Threading his fingers through her hair, he pulls her face closer to his before the kiss can end. His lips move over hers, touching and tasting the sweetness of her skin. It’s more addictive than any drug he’s ever known. Her lips part and he drinks from the well of her mouth, savoring her like top-shelf booze.
Thunder rumbles in the distance. At least, he thinks it’s the storm. It could be the pounding of his heart. Frankly, he doesn’t give a fuck.
He only cares for those breathy little gasps and soft moans.
He opens his eyes, wanting to see her face, only to find them entrenched in darkness. She finally breaks the kiss, rocking back on the balls of her feet as a hand lifts to her mouth.
“Oh,” she blinks, surveying their surroundings. “I… I think the circuit breaker was tripped. I should probably go check on-“
He doesn’t let her finish that thought and pulls her back instead, reclaiming her mouth. Overwhelming need courses through him. He’s always been one to act first, letting instinct determine his next move. It was telling him that he needed her more than anything he’d ever needed in his life. More than the booze, pills, pussy, or anger. It’s an ache that cuts straight to the bones. He’s not sure what he’ll do if he doesn’t cure it. Probably explode, but what a way to go.
“Bed,” she pries her mouth away from his. “We need a bed.”
She trails hot kisses down his throat. He opens his mouth, nearly replying that they don’t need one to fuck in, but she isn’t a joy toy or a groupie asking to be bent over the nearest surface. This is Ophelia, aptly named after the tragic lover doomed to misery in Shakespeare’s Hamlet. V had pointed it out in the end, humorlessly laughing at the irony in it.
Shit, he swallows with a grim realization, she sees and feels V when they kiss.
This reminds him, yet again, how different V and he truly was.
Sex has always been wild, animalistic even. He never saw it as the kind of shit poets wrote frilly words over. Nah, for him, it was the kind rockers wailed out into the microphone while their fingers shredded chords to every night.
Alt. Rogue. And all those groupies… It was always the same. It was all he ever knew. He didn’t realize it could be different… not until meeting her. He got a glimpse of what it could be through V’s memories.
He knew it would be different with her. A taste of something he developed a craving for ever since he awoke slotted into V’s head. It could be the bittersweet ballad of agonized prose… the kind of music that didn’t need to say anything because it just was.
Maybe because it was V’s girl and he’s always been an asshole… or maybe it was because V and Phee had a love like nothing he’s ever experienced, but he wanted it. Just a taste.
It would be one night. A parting gift, if you will, before he leaves the city for good. He could have a new life, abating himself of some guilt, and she’d have a final memory. It’d be their goodbye.
He just needs to pretend that the act wouldn’t break his heart… that they weren’t betraying V.
Fuck, he internally curses as he reaches for her, Misty was right. He really is the Fool.
“Alright,” he meets her gaze.
In a sweeping motion, he plucks her from the ground. Her arms wrap around him and her lips plant soft kisses under his jaw. Each touch is sweeter than the last.
He leads her to the bedroom and lays her on the mattress. The smile she offers him has his insides twisting. Inadequacy fills him. He may possess the merc’s body, but everything leftover is Johnny, straight down to the shriveled-up shadow he calls a soul.
He starts to ask if she’s sure. Indecision weighs on his mind, wanting her to say yes or no. Thankfully—or not depending on how you look at it—she grabs his belt, undoing the buck with a deft touch. With a sharp tug, she yanks him closer.
His fingers reach, curling under the hem of her shirt, and peels it over her head. He tosses it somewhere, uncaring where it lands, and steps out of his pants. Then, he pauses and savors the sight of her.
Echoes of lightning illuminate her in sections, but he captures every curve and dip of skin, committing her to memory. He must have been staring for a while because she rises on bent knees, holding her hands out for him.
“You’re beautiful,” he whispers with a reverence meant for a precious instrument and means with every fiber of his being.
More than beautiful. She is everything.
“So are you,” she smiles, slowly peeling off his damp shirt.
It lands on the ground with a plop. Her arms draw him into the warmth of her body. He marvels at the softness of her skin, lazily dragging a hand up the length of her spine. Lips press along the column of his throat, seeking his own out. Their lips and tongues tangle together, battling for dominance as their movements hasten.
He pushes forward, careening towards the mattress. Their bodies are flush, line for line, extension for extension. Her hands stroke the contours of his back, mapping him out like it’s the very first time.
Pressing his palms flat on either side of her head, he raises himself a fraction. A crack of lightning snaps nearby, giving light to her for a fraction of a second. It’s enough to see the hunger and need written in her expression, matching what he felt inside.
In the back of his mind, a tiny voice tells him that this is wrong. It says he’s taking advantage of her vulnerability… and tarnishing everything she had with V. But when her hands drift up to his face, holding him as their eyes meet. It shuts that voice up.
He’ll hate himself in the morning, but for now… for now, he’ll allow himself to have this… to have her.
Lowering his body over hers until they are touching, his hands roam the length of her, touching and teasing soft sounds out of her. Their mouths collide. His organic hand cups the apex between her thighs, waiting to stroke her slick heat.
“Ophelia,” he pants, tearing his mouth away from hers. “Is this what you want?”
“Johnny,” she whimpers, lifting her hips against his hand, seeking contact. “Please.”
His name from her lips is better than a dozen platinum records or a million fans screaming his name.
He dips a finger inside her tight sheath, relishing the soft moan that escapes her. His finger glides over the bundle of nerves and her breath hitches in her throat. He keeps his strokes even, never speeding up or slowing down despite the undulating of her hips.
“Please,” she pleads, arching against him.
His finger drifts down her wet heat, and her thighs fall open, granting him greater access. He dips into her opening, partially wanting to make this good and selfishly wanting to draw out every moment with her. He continues to go slow, adding another finger, then another until she’s a writhing mess.
His lips quirk at the mewl of protest that escapes her when he withdraws. Then, he moves until the tip of his erection brushes against her opening, but instead of thrusting to the hilt in one smooth motion, he hesitates. He isn’t sure if it's to catch his breath and regain some control before embarrassing himself OR if he’s giving her another out.
She captures his bottom lip between her teeth as her thighs encircle his waist, cradling him close. Her teeth sink into him as he sinks into her. She rolls her hips against his, taking him deeper.
He groans. The sensation tempts him to lose control, to lose himself in the haze of lust and thrust without abandon, but this is their only night. He wants to draw this out as much as he can, even if it means loving her with another’s body.
Tucking away a loose tendril behind her ear, he watches her as he eases himself deeper until he’s fully seated. The look of awe on her face was indescribable. Being inside of her… it felt like finally finding a home.
“Please,” she urges, lifting her hips to meet his.
He leans down and captures her lips. Somehow, she tastes even sweeter this way.
Deepening the kiss, he pulls out. Her hands grasp onto his shoulder, holding him closer. He thrust back in, relishing the friction. It’s like nothing he’s ever experienced.
He keeps a slow pace as he f-
No… this is the furthest thing from fucking. It’s… It’s making love in its truest form and it’s everything he ever wanted. He could lose himself in this, in her. All day, every day, and for the rest of his life. The realization is like a gunshot to the chest.
Her nails dig into his back and she lets out a sweet whimper at his pause. He stares down at her face, wondering what forever would feel like with her. But, it’s impossible. He’ll only ever hurt her.
All he ever does is hurt people. Alt. Rogue… and V. He’s destroyed their lives, better than any nuke he could set off. Hurting her is the last thing he wants. He’d never forgive himself if he did.
But tonight… he’ll let himself have this night. He needs to make the most out of every second.
Cupping her face, he presses his mouth to hers and begins to move again, pouring all his need, lust, and love into this… into her.
When she comes undone around him, it’s not enough. He works to bring her over the edge again and again. Their lovemaking transforms from slow and tender to fast and desperate, but she doesn’t seem to mind. She takes whatever he gives and returns it tenfold. Again and again, they come together, seeking each other out until the rain ceases to fall and the gray light of morning creeps through the shutters.
He collapses on top of her, fully spent and gasping for air. Her breaths ghost over him as his lips trace the sensitive skin of her throat. He slides out of her. They both hiss at the soreness and ache. It won’t take long to recover.
Just a little longer, he whispers to himself. Then, he’ll leave.
He starts to slide down her body, but her small hand reaches out to stop him. His eyes dart up to hers, seeing the exhaustion etched in her features.
“As much as I appreciate the enthusiasm, I don’t think I can handle another round. Not yet,” she murmurs. “Maybe after some sleep.”
“Oh,” he says, perceiving her comment as a dismissal.
He slides off her, scooting to the edge of the bed. He starts to rise, but her hands snake around his waist and soft lips press to the nape of his neck.
“I know you need to go… but… could you hold me for a bit?” She breathes into his skin.
Relief pours through him and he doesn’t hesitate to crawl beside her. He admits that he’s never done this part before… the staying, but she just smiles and arranges their bodies together. They fit like two misshaped puzzle pieces.
Despite the exhaustion, they whisper about everything and nothing. She asks what his plans are after he leaves the city, and he admits that he doesn’t have a clue. Instead of trying to convince him to stay like Kerry, or offering suggestions on how he should spend his days, she merely requests that he finds happiness in whatever he decides.
“Why?” He asks, needing to know why it is so important to her.
“You’ve endured more than your fair share of suffering,” she tenderly strokes his face. “You deserve to find peace.”
He kisses her palm and rasps, “How can you be so kind? After everything I stole from you?”
“You didn’t steal anything,” she presses a free hand to his chest. “V is the one who chose to let go. Just like he made a decision when Jackie and him took that job from Dex.”
There is a sadness in her gaze.
“All we’ve ever had is choices,” she smiles. “It’s up to us to live with the consequences and make peace with the results.”
He stared for a long moment, wondering what was going in behind those eyes. But he’ll never know what she was thinking at that moment. She succumbs to sleep before he has the chance to ask. It’d be so easy to follow her, but he forces himself to stay awake. This is another new experience that he doesn’t want to let go of.
He curls around her body, enjoying the peace that can be found in holding another person. He never understood the point of basking in the afterglow, at least not after sex. Sure, drugs had a similar effect, but not sex. That had always been reaching the high of a climax and then deltaing afterwards. This… is foreign territory, but if he’s being honest, he can see the appeal.
Maybe it’s the best night of his life, or it’s the near quiet of dawn. As he lays there with her in his arms, listening to the lake brush against the short, he knows without a doubt that this is the closest to content… to peace he may ever get in his life. Borrowed or not.
He dreads what tomorrow will bring. How could he say goodbye again? How could he leave her behind when she felt so perfect in his arms?
But they weren’t his arms. As long as he stayed, he would never be able to let go and start anew. This has to be goodbye, as much for himself as it was for V and Ophelia.
He strokes her cheek one final time, then untangles himself from her. It doesn’t take long to get dressed, but before he goes, he places his dog tags on the nightstand and presses a kiss to the crown of her head.
Deep down, he’ll never forget this night or her. And in a lot of ways, he’ll always chase this kind of love, the kind he’s always wanted but never knew existed until her.
It’s time for an end and for new beginnings.