Juno knows better than to go into the water—Lior made sure of that with all her very detailed notes—but he still finds himself down by the beach quite a bit that first month. He’d say it’s for intel if anyone asked, but honestly? He kind of likes it. It’s peaceful, it’s as different from Hyperion as you can get, and he rarely runs into people while he’s at it. That’s fine by him most days.

Today is not most days, if only because of who it is he spots being led away from the ocean by another damn bot.

No. No no no, it can’t be, but Juno opens his mouth anyway, the shape of a name just barely there on his tongue—

Nureyev.

Only he can’t go shouting that out here, can he? Especially not if it’s a trick or something, another sim or a mirage. He’d be betraying that name for nothing. So he wracks his brain instead, trying to remember the new pseudonym Nureyev had used that first night (Juno’s only night) aboard the Carte Blanche.

“Ransom?” He tries to project, but his voice mostly sticks in his throat—right alongside with all the fear and longing he feels at the thought of this actually happening. Juno clears it and tries again, managing to shout it louder even as he dreads (hopes for) an answer. He no doubt looks as stricken as he feels by the sight of the man he can’t stop thinking about, looking beautiful and improbable as he ever has even while dripping saltwater everywhere he steps.