Nero stepped into the shower and turned the knob. A heartbeat later, water rushed down over him. He let it run, scrubbing away dirt and dried blood as they spiraled toward the drain, lingering for a moment before vanishing through the holes.
He closed his eyes and tried—again—to remember something. Anything.
Nothing came.
The only memory that surfaced was meeting Dorne. Everything before that was a void, sealed away as if by force. Still, one thing was painfully clear: something was seriously wrong with him. Worse—he had forgotten something. Something that should never be forgotten.
He could feel it in his body.
In the way the water traced the dark cracks veined across his skin.
With a deep sigh, he shut off the water and stepped out. He wiped the steam from the mirror and stared at his reflection, half-expecting the cracks to have washed away like mud.
They hadn't.
They were still there.
Unmoving. Permanent.
He dried off and pulled on the clothes Dorne had given him. The jeans and long-sleeved shirt fit perfectly—not too tight, not too loose—like they'd been tailored for him. Not bad for something that had been collecting dust in an old closet.
As he reached for the door, he cracked it open just enough to peek out. Left. Then right. He paused, listening—making sure a certain deranged goat wasn't lurking in the shadows, waiting to ambush him.
Nothing.
Satisfied, he opened the door fully and stepped into the hallway, brushing the dampness from his hair as he walked. Passing the cracked walls on either side, he let out a quiet sigh.
"How does that guy live with a crazy animal like that?" he muttered.
"Weird. Everyone in this town's weird."
The dining room came into view. Dorne was already seated, waiting.
"Thanks for the clothes," Nero said as he walked in.
Dorne glanced up. "No need. They were just sitting there, gathering dust. Though I gotta say—looks like they were made for you."
Nero sat across from him. "Yeah. They fit perfectly."
"So," Dorne said with a grin, "what'd you do with your 'super stylish' clothes?"
Nero sighed. "I left them in the basket. And you're not going to stop bringing that up, are you?"
"Nope," Dorne smirked. "Not until I find something better."
He gestured toward the table. "What about the tracker? Leave that in the bathroom too, along with your 'stylish' outfit?"
"I still have it," Nero replied, ignoring the teasing. "Why? Can you do anything with it?"
Dorne leaned back, thinking. "I could ask Thom to take a look. But I doubt any of us can crack military tech."
Nero froze. "Military tech?"
The sudden question caught Dorne off guard. He blinked, then shrugged. "Your pants were standard camo cargo. Your hair's short. And that tracker in your pocket? Compact. Anyone with a brain could put that together."
He smirked. "You were military. And that thing's military tech."
Nero stared at him, surprised—and a little impressed.
Dorne tilted his head. "Don't tell me you didn't figure that out yourself."
Nero gave an awkward smile and looked away. "I—I could've. I just… didn't feel like it."
He glanced back. "Yeah. Didn't feel like using my brain."
Dorne snorted, pointing his spoon at him. "Yeah, yeah. Keep telling yourself that, dumbass."
Nero went quiet, staring at the table, utterly defeated.
Dorne lowered the spoon. "Still—we'll deal with that later. For now, eat."
He nodded toward the plates.
"Food's getting cold."
Nero looked at the food.
A simple stew and bread.
He picked up the spoon and started with the stew. It was thick—real thick. Potatoes, carrots, bits of meat he couldn't quite place. The bread on the side was soft. Still warm.
Dorne glanced at him. "Is something wrong?"
Nero looked up.
Dorne grinned. "The way you're staring at it, you look like you're about to judge the next Master Chef."
Nero shook his head. "Nothing like that. It's just…" He paused, searching for the feeling. "I feel like it's been a long time since I had food this good. Did you make it?"
Dorne smiled and waved his left hand dismissively. "Me? Nah. Anika had some extra and shared it. She's got a soft spot for lost causes, I guess."
"I see." Nero smirked. "Bet you suck at cooking."
Dorne's smile vanished. His eye twitched. "Hey. That's just rude."
Nero tore off a piece of bread. "Oh yeah? You've been making fun of me since the moment we met."
A faint creak sounded behind him.
Nero turned slowly—already knowing what he'd find.
Captain Headbutt.
The old goat stood directly behind his chair, staring down at him like a disapproving landlord.
"Oh, come on," Nero muttered. "You really thought that'd work?"
Dorne leaned to the side and spotted him. "CH. Don't forget—he's our guest."
The goat let out a low Maa, thick with disdain.
"I still don't like this punk."
Then, with exaggerated dignity, Captain Headbutt turned and strutted out the door toward his little house outside—which looked suspiciously like a doghouse.
Nero watched him go.
They finished their meal in relative silence.
After a moment, Nero spoke. "Hey… how does the shower still work? No offense, but the whole town looks like it's held together by tape and luck."
Dorne leaned back in his chair. "That'd be Thom's work. He keeps the water running. Restores old stuff, maintains the lines, fixes leaks. Without him, this place would've fallen apart a long time ago."
He sighed. "That said… I just wish the water wasn't always that damn cold."
"Cold?" Nero blinked. "It didn't feel cold to me."
Dorne tilted his head. "What're you talking about? It's always cold."
He stood and headed for the bathroom. Nero followed.
Dorne turned on the tap and stuck his hand under the stream. "See? Cold as hail."
Nero stepped up and did the same.
"… What the hell," Nero muttered. "It feels normal to me. Like room temperature."
Dorne frowned, then grabbed a kettle from the stove and poured hot water into a bowl. "Try this."
Nero dipped a finger in. "Feels a bit warm. Not that hot."
Dorne stared at him, serious now. "Dude… something's seriously off with your body."
Nero looked down at his hand. Dark cracks peeked from beneath the sleeve of his shirt.
Before he could speak, Dorne placed a hand on his shoulder. "Don't worry too much. We'll figure it out. I'll take you to Anika in the morning. For now—get some rest."
Nero nodded quietly and headed back to the room on the second floor.
He lay down on the bed. The house settled into silence.
But his mind didn't.