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Laney'd done quite a few supply runs in the company of Mauvians, and she wasn't unaccustomed to having them ride along on her shoulder, at times, though the heavier, stiff-standing fabric of her scarf when she was in uniform was sufficient to keep any of them from touching her face even accidentally. It wasn't Snowballs fault -- cats would be cats, after all: even Mauvian ones. She waved off his apology readily, then watched as he cleverly took off to give them some space.

Only Azzo and Laney were left, after that. And he -- he wanted to see her face. There were certainly people who were comfortable with her showing her scars, and she was comfortable with some people seeing them in return, but -- but most people didn't ask to, they -- they didn't ask.

She nodded tersely in response to both questions.

Her tent was fairly centrally located, and not perfectly soundproofed (they had almost no standing buildings at camp, so nothing in camp was really soundproofed) -- but that was where she led them, holding the entry flap so Azzo could go inside before zipping it closed behind them both. There was a little viewing screen area, a sort of alcove where she liked to sit and read and watch the daytime stir of camp when she had an off hour or two; she zipped that closed, too. Laney sat on her air mattress and offered Azzo the use of the folding chair by her writing desk (actually a card table).

Aside those furnishings and one or two storage tubs where she kept her clothes and other possessions, the tent was mostly full of books: huge stacks of them, lovingly organized, covered over and under by plastic tarps to keep them safe from rain or ground water. They'd work to absorb what little noise might've otherwise escaped, if Azzo kept his voice down.

As requested, she took off her medical mask so he could look his fill at her scars.

What's going on? she wrote down.

Laney waited while he looked at her face again. Many people had scars these days, missing limbs, debilitating injuries -- and worse than Laney's, certainly -- but she'd always been self-conscious about her scars anyway, the imperfect way her mouth came back together after Oenone's emergency surgery to reassemble her face, her slightly slack jaw where it was difficult to hold her mouth closed.

I never wanted guardians, she thought. The whole point was to show harmelessness; protectors would've ruined my work. So have you looked your fill, now? Have you contented yourself that you're a hero, and could be everyone's hero if only there were more of you? Does my injury fill you with the righteous resolve you wanted?

But that was unfair and unkind. Azzo was her friend. He'd lost his wife. It was probably just hard for him to deal with the idea he might be failing all his friends.

She felt guilty, again, for her bitterness.

I'm still here, she wrote, offering her friend a small smile.

Laney listened as he began his tale. She could see where they'd tried their best, cautious in the way people are with babies. It wrenched her heart to think of them going through a time that was so happy for most people full of fear for their lives and safety. Things were so difficult, these days -- she supposed that was true the world over. And it must've been frightening to have no allies.

You did what you could, she jotted down, then reached out with her free hand to lay it over his. It's OK. Go on.

She didn't think she liked where his story was going.

Justice.

How many of them even thought in those terms anymore?

Justice was a hope long past: there was nothing now that could right the scales of what the Negaverse had done. Lives couldn't be given back, the world couldn't start living the way it had before all this.

Survival was all most of them hoped for, now. Survival was what they held hands and promised each other over campfires. We'll get through this. We will live again. I promise you, brother -- our sun will not set. And victory was what they prayed for, each in their own way, quietly and alone -- too fragile, too painfully unlikely, to give more of a voice than that.

But justice? Most of them had given up on justice.

Maybe it was good to have Azzo back, if only for that.

You are not alone, she answered, laying a comforting hand on his arm. You're here now. We've always been stronger together. She underlined it twice.

There's a place for you in the Mainstay, Laney suggested. They work hard, but they're good people, and they'll make you feel welcome. It's front lines work. You could be a lot of help there.

Their Shadows were good people, too -- but it was hard, stomach-turning work, and lonely. Azzo needed human connections right now, not the ability to disconnect from them to do his job. He'd lost his whole family . . . her heart ached for him.

Laney stilled at Azzo's hand on her face -- but he was her friend, he meant her no harm. It was good he was here, and still good, even after all this time and all the people who'd watched over her in life, to have someone offer her their help. She had so many friends, so many good friends.

That was what everyone needed now -- good friends they could rely upon. It was the best and last resource that Order had left.

Azzo left her at the mouth of her tent. He looked back -- she raised a hand and blew him a kiss in farewell, offering a silly, closed-mouth smile.

Someone would show him where the barracks were, and the mess tent. Right now, she needed to rest.

Too exhausted to bother with the rigamarole of brushing her teeth and washing her face, Laney crawled under the blanket on her air mattress in the clothes she was already wearing, and went to sleep.