IV
Borrowed Clothes
Night City, 2077
Sofie tugged the hem of her shirt over her knees. The fabric was soft from years of wear and stretched thin at the collar. It was one of Ares’ favorites, with a faded pinned moth logo across the chest. She hadn’t picked it by accident. He had groaned the second he saw her in it, muttering that she’d stolen the best shirt in his closet right out of his hand, but she’d caught the way his mouth betrayed him—the corners upturned half in amusement, half fondness—as she padded barefoot across the apartment floor. Now she curled into the corner of the couch, drowning in its loose fabric, daring him to try and take it back.
Ares emerged from the kitchen in shorts and a plain shirt, carrying two steaming bowls. The smell of noodles and spice followed him, cutting through the rain scented air that drifted in through the balcony door they’d left cracked open. He set the bowls on the coffee table and leaned a shoulder against the back of the couch, eyes narrowing on the stolen attire. “You really had to pick that one,” he said, shaking his head.
Sofie smirked, tucking her bare legs tighter beneath the fabric. “Looks better on me.”
“You have one just like it, in your size.”
“Sure. But I can’t pretend to be a turtle in mine,” she said, pulling her arms deep into the garment. She stuck her tongue out at him, then started to giggle.
Ares groaned, but it was a helpless sound, already betrayed by the twitch of the smile that had already been tugging at the corners of his mouth. He eased the rest of the way onto the couch, draping one arm over her shoulder to pull her close.
“You’re impossible,” he said, voice soft, colored with affection and lacking all of the irritation he had been feigning.
Sofie shifted closer, he shoulder brushing against his chest, the oversized shirt swallowing her whole. “You love it,” she said, muffled by the fabric as she tucked her chin inside the stretched collar.
He chuckled, leaning down to press his lips briefly against the top of her head. “Yeah,” he admitted. “I do.”
For a moment, there was only the quiet hum of the city beyond the balcony and faint rattle of rain against the glass. Sofie breathed it in—the warmth of the noodles on the table, the heat of Ares’ arm against her, the kind of peace she couldn’t have imagined back in Nástr?nd. Nights like this still felt like moments stolen from dreams.
Sofie wriggled free of the shirt’s collar and reached for a bowl, the rising steam clouding her vision. She drew it into her lap, careful not to slosh the bright red broth on Ares’ shirt. The scent hit her first—rich spices and garlic, the unmistakable kick of Mama Han’s one and only recipe.
“Ahm sho glad Shishle ’n’ Shlurp finally found a puhm’nt locashun,” she said with a mouthful of the noodles.
“Agreed,” Ares replied, lifting his chopsticks to his mouth. He was already leaning forward, elbows braced on his knees, chopsticks working with practiced ease. “It’s not as convenient as when her stand was just downstairs, but the new place in Little China’s definitely been good for business.”
Sofie smiled into the steam. Mama Han only made one dish, rice noodles floating in her signature crimson chili oil broth, topped with synth-sirloin. It was served only one way, with no substitutions or condiments. The only choice her customers had was whether they wanted their soup spicy, or extra spicy. Sofie always went with the first option, Ares the second. The broth always lit her tongue on fire in the best way. They’d stopped to pick up their dinner on the way home from the Afterlife, a ritual as natural as stopping to refuel the Merrimac at a CHOOH2 station. A small tradition, but one that had rooted itself deep.
They ate in comfortable silence for a while, the rain outside punctuating the slurp of noodles and the clink of chopsticks against ceramic. Ares let out a contented sigh as he set his bowl down, stretching his legs out under the table. Sofie upturned the bowl and drained the rest of her soup, then set her empty dish next to his. She leaned into him as she licked her lips and smiled, a warmth pooling in her chest that had nothing to do with the soup.
Ares’ hand found her knee, thumb brushing idly over the her skin as they lingered in the quiet. For a while, neither of them spoke. The downpour outside filled the space between their breaths, rain pattering soft against the balcony windows.
Eventually, Sofie tilted her head against his shoulder. “That light,” she murmured. “It doesn’t get easier.”
Ares’ jaw shifted, the muscles working before he answered. “The green?”
She nodded, eyes closed. “It crawls under my skin. Makes me feel like I’m already gone. Like if I blink too long, I’ll open my eyes and find I’m not anymore.” Her fingers found the silver band on her left hand, twisting it around her finger in a ritual she barely noticed she had begun.
The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.
Ares squeezed her knee, pulling her back into the moment. “You’re here,” he said, his voice steady as ever. “With me. The Afterlife’s full of ghosts, but they can’t touch you. Not there, and definitely not here.”
Sofie breathed out slow, letting his words settle into her bones. The tension is her chest loosened, if only a little. She pressed closer, cheek against the soft cotton of his shirt, listening to the steady rhythm of his heart beneath it.
Ares moved his hand from her knee to her hand, squeezing gently. After a while, he said quietly, “Wasn’t just the lights tonight, though.” His voice had an edge to it, one that meant he didn’t really want to admit something was weighing on him.
Sofie opened her eyes, turning them up toward him. “No. Not just the lights,” she agreed.
His jaw tightened at the thought of their unwelcome company.
“Monterro,” Ares said at last, the name leaving his mouth like gravel. He didn’t spit the it so much as let it drop, heavy enough that Sofie could almost feel the floor tilt under it.
She nodded, fingers curling tighter around his. “I saw the way you looked at him. Like something that had crawled out of one of the old morgue’s drawers.”
“Sounds about right,” Ares muttered, eyes fixed upon the rain-streaked glass and the balcony door, still ajar. “Something that should have been burned or buried a long time ago.” He exhaled through his nose, his frustration potent in the sound. “I thought for sure he’d gotten himself killed working for the Hounds. I mean, I hadn’t even heard anything about him after Biteback reclaimed the Merrimac from him.”
He gently gestured for her to move so he could stand, then walked over to the balcony door and pulled it shut. “Ugh,” he groaned as he began to pace, “I don’t like that he’s still walking the same streets as us. Don’t like that he knows where we pick up work. don’t like the way he talked about you—like you were nothing more than something he could take for his own if he decided he wanted it.”
As he turned to retrace his path across the room for a third time, she stood and intercepted him. Her arms wrapped around him as she put her full weight against him. Ares pulled her closer, hands clutching at the back of the shirt she’d “stolen” from him. “He’s bad news, Sof.”
“I know,” she murmured, pressing her cheek into his chest again. “He’s dangerous, Ares. But so are we, and neither of us are alone anymore. We’re stronger than ever. If he comes at us…” She tilted her head up to meet his eyes, certainty and determination brimming in her own. “We’ll face it together.”
Her words were punctuated by a flash of lightning and rumble of thunder outside. After a moment, her words began to take hold, and the corners of Ares’ mouth curled into a sly smile. “In that case, you’d better be ready to fight dirty. If he does anything to threaten you or my shirt, rest assured I’ll be throwing the first punch.”
Sofie let out a laugh that turned into a soft exhale. “Good. I’m glad you’re not rusty.” She tangled her fingers around his, squeezing. “Thank you. For being… you.”
They settled back into the couch where Sofie rested her head against Ares’ shoulder as he pulled her close. The storm outside rumbled on, but in their little corner of the world, the noise was dulled, fading into the background. Sofie curled closer to him, savoring every breath and beat of his heart. Ares rested his chin lightly against her hair, content in the silence.
After a while, Sofie’s eyes drifted to a framed photo on the shelf: her and Ares on their wedding day. They were grinning awkwardly in front of her siblings, Navarro’s hand on Ares’ shoulder, Dickson smirking at something just out of frame. The memento was small, miraculously containing her biggest, most important memory with ease. The photo was small, imperfect, but the her most cherished decoration. Nothing about it resembled the glossy corporate portrait she had been pressured to pose for when she had been formally inducted into her new position. That thought alone made her chest swell with quiet pride.
She sighed, letting her eyes linger on the photo another moment before turning her gaze back to Ares. “I wish these moments would never end,” she said.
He kissed her cheek, then said, “So do I, but that’s what makes them special.”
She smiled, then moved to rise from the couch, saying, “Tomorrow’s going to be a mess. The schedule’s packed so tight I don’t know when I’ll find a chance to breathe.”
“It’s gonna be fine,” Ares said, following her away from the couch.
As they walked to the bedroom Sofie began going through her list of things she had to do the following day. “Gotta talk to Ma?l before breakfast—ugh that nine hour time difference is torture—and go over everything that’s new in Oslo.”
“Ma?l’s handling things like a champ over there, the only bad thing about that meeting is the time. We’ll get something to eat as soon as you’re done.”
“Yeah… You’re right. Okay, first Ma?l, then food, then we’ve got to see Dr. Krüger about the… um… space thing…?”
“The martian environment suits,” Ares reminded her.
“Thank you,” She smiled as she pushed the bedroom door open. “Right. The ROM environment suits. While we’re there, we’ll have to check on Matthew and Jamie, make sure they’ve settled in at the lab. And in the evening, we’re having dinner with the twins.”
“You’re forgetting your appointment with Elise.”
“Dammit,” Sofie muttered. She’d been so busy in the last two years that what had once been a biweekly appointment with Dr. Navarro, had quickly become a random, sporadic, spur of the moment visit to the ripperdoc to maintain her out of date, often overworked implants. “Is it too late to reschedule? I don’t know how we’re going to get all of this done in one—”
She was cut off as Ares kissed her and pushed her onto their bed. “Two years in and you still haven’t picked up any time management skills. Don’t worry, Sof. We’ve go this.”
She smiled, then pulled him closer and into another kiss. “You’re right, you’re right. It’s not much busier than any other day.”
Ares played down beside her, propping himself up on one elbow as he brushed a stray lock of platinum hair from her face. “Exactly. Just another day.”
She let out a soft laugh. “Just another day in the life of Sofie Arnesen—netrunner, mercenary, reluctant CEO, and chronic over thinker.”
“Don’t forget turtle impersonator,” he added, tugging at the hem of the borrowed shirt.
Her laughter warmed the air in between them, “Fine. That too.”
“Hey, when were you planning on telling me you’re not wearing anything else?”
“When you either noticed or asked,” Sofie giggled as her husband lifted her shirt up to reveal her bare thighs. “Took you long enough.”
She issued a thought command to the lights then leaned in and kissed Ares again as they were shrouded in darkness.
