Byron gave a tentative smile, a sliver of his usual self. "Greg and Leland won't freak out on me, will they?"
"Greg is gonna pester you to death with questions and you know it," Dixie replied. "As to Leland… he was the one who already knew about you. Well, about aliens, I mean. It's why he needs the Mason Chip, apparently. Wants to rescue another one of you."
"What! Ariadne? But she's dead—" Byron looked ready to cry again.
Dixie grabbed his shoulders, squeezed gently. "Ain't the name he used, but calm down and we'll go talk to him, get this sorted. But you're still among friends, darling. I'm sorry for what's happened in the past. I promise there ain't gonna be no witch burnings while I'm around."
Byron nodded. "Let me wash my face." He slipped from the room and headed down the hall to the bathroom at the end. Dixie waited for him outside the workshop. When Byron emerged a few minutes later, he looked more his usual self, albeit a tenuous, anxious version.
"So why are you so terrified of Leland?" Dixie asked as he pushed off the wall he'd been leaning against.
"I'm not terrified of anyone," Byron said, then made a face. "Rather, I am terrified of everyone finding out about me and trying to kill me, or worse, experiment on me. That's happened a lot." Shadows fell over his face, but he shook his head. "I'm not scared of Leland."
Dixie cast him a look as they headed down the stairs. "So what was all that running away and avoiding looking at him about?"
"Nothing," Byron said, face going pink. "Can we drop it?"
"Not if you're gonna get all flustered and skittish whenever you're around him," Dixie said. "We're about to pick a fight with the G.O.D. that we won't be able to walk away from unless we win it. This little group of four is about all we got for now, so what's got you acting funny?"
"Nothing," Byron repeated, but his face only got redder.
Dixie stopped on the stairs, and he was big enough there was no way Byron could go around him. "Well, I'll be damned, I think Greg might have been right: you got a crush."
"That is the stupidest and yet most accurate word for it, yes," Byron bit out. "I've never really felt lust for humans. All this—" he gestured to himself, "—It's not how I should look. It's like extremely hardcore, no going back camouflage. I've grown used to it, but in my head, I'm still the original me. And the original me, even after hundreds of years…" He shrugged, looked down. "I was not prepared for…Leland."
"Well, take it slow, darling. Ain't like you got to act on it if'n you don't want."
Byron nodded. "Can we get this over with?"
"Surely." Dixie gripped his shoulder in reassurance, then turned and continued on down the stairs and through the apartment back to the kitchen. Greg and Leland were sitting next to each other at the table, talking quietly. They looked up as they heard Dixie and Byron. "Howdy. I found our runaway alien. He's a bit jumpy, so give'em some space."
"I'm fine," Byron said, though Dixie didn't miss the faint tremor in his hand as he reached up to brush a few stray curls from his face. "But I think someone else is going to have to make dinner."
Greg flapped a hand. "It seemed like an order pizza kinda evening. So you're really a hardcore tourist?"
"Yes," Byron said quietly and moved to take his usual seat at the table. "My ship crashed here with the meteor, when it damaged and interfered with our ship."
"That was centuries ago."
Byron's mouth tightened. "I've been genetically modified for interstellar travel. The modifications were extensively tested and approved by the World Board, but they seem to have side effects that no one caught."
Greg stared at him, eyes wide. "What—"
"That's enough," Dixie cut in. "Give the poor man some space, kitten. You can pester him later when he's up to it."
"Sorry," Greg said. He started fidgeting and fussing with the papers on the table. "So I guess we should work on the plan?"
Byron looked at Leland, cheeks faintly pink but chin jutted out. "Dixie said you know someone else like me?"
"Yeah," Leland said quietly, meeting Byron's gaze briefly before lowering his eyes. "I'm sorry. It's my fault she was captured by the G.O.D."
"It wasn't!" Greg said. "It was the G.O.D.'s fault!"
Byron smiled ever so faintly. "That is very true. Nobody is to blame for the G.O.D. except the G.O.D. I thought Ariadne was dead. I can't believe we've been living in the same fucking city." He rested his elbows on the table and covered his eyes with the heels of his hands. "I cannot believe she's been alive this whole time. What was she doing?"
"Protecting kids from being scooped up by the G.O.D.," Leland said.
Sitting back, wiping away the tears that had fallen down his cheeks, Byron softly said, "Of course she was." His eyes were on the table, but a million miles away. "How long have they had her?"
"Almost eight months."
Byron swore softly. "That is more than enough time for the G.O.D. to get themselves in trouble. At least there is only so much they can get from me and her. I hate to say it, but sometimes I am glad the rest of the crew died. Some of them were modified and augmented in ways that would have the G.O.D. weeping tears of joy." He shook his head, eyes closing briefly again.
"So what were you?" Greg asked, then clapped a hand over his mouth. "Sorry, no questions." He folded his hands on the table, but almost immediately started messing with papers and a pencil again.
Dixie smiled, watching him. Did Greg ever hold still? Probably not even when he was asleep.
"It's okay," Byron said. He stood and went to the fridge, came back with beers that he handed around. "You will
