to me, other than jackie (and later johnny), i seriously think viktor vektor is one of the only other people in the entire game who truly cares about v; unconditionally.
like vik never asks anything from v. he doesn't beg v to help him with something or give them a "if you help me, i'll help you" speech. he helps v solely just because he cares about them and their wellbeing. like before the heist, vik is willing to give v the koroshi optics just because!! gives away 20k worth of cyberware with a slap of an I.O.U and a promise to pay him back in the future. which is OPTIONAL???? he never even expected v to return the money at all either. he did it just because he wanted to see v chase their dreams of becoming a legend. and if i'm remembering correctly, when you do go to pay him back, he gets upset with v, brushes it off as a favor, and tells them NO!!! that is until v insists he takes it!!
not only that but also vik giving v a couple of his old jackets from his younger, punk days? that's so cute. telling them he doesn't want them to get cold when they get to the big leagues like vik cares SO MUCH for v and it makes my heart weep for him later in the game.
for he, who had just lost jackie as well, who now had to sit and watch as another very important person in his life die. slip through his fingers where he had no control over it— he couldn't do anything to save v from the relic and it killed him. i can’t imagine how many sleepless nights he must have had after v was dragged to his place by goro. and after HE had to give them the bad news. sitting awake in his little makeshift office, mulling over and over again what he could do to help or to make things easier; only to come up with the exact same solution again and again—that he couldn’t.
and yet, he tried to make things easier, joke around and laugh with v. cheer them on during their fight and even coach them through the round. but watching someone you love and care for so deeply literally…dying before your eyes, god. and the fact that vik, no matter what, always welcomes v back into his life with open arms?? no questions asked??
Pairing: Johnny Silverhand x F!V
Warnings: angst, depression, hopelessness, addiction/alcoholism, overindulgence, hangover, suicidal thoughts, self-destructive tendencies, overdose (not resulting in death), fluff, hurt-comfort.
Summary: V is grappling with her decisions on what to do next. Does she meet with Hanako at Embers? Give Solomon Reed a call for Surgery? Or just wait it out to see what other options she might find? The stress is compounding, and she is not handling it well at all. She’s suffering from constant nightmares and decides that drowning her sorrows in substances so as to be as avoidant of her problems as possible is her best course of action. At least until Johnny has something to say about it.
⚠️Contains spoilers for the Phantom Liberty ending where you choose Reed⚠️
Read on ao3 - 3.8k words
Writing Masterlist - My kofi✨
The hum and drum of the AV is unsettling. The cold attitudes from the physicians at your flanks instill within you a looming sense of regret, not fully presenting itself but always lurking in the shadows. When Reed revealed the options he had for you, it felt like you would have to betray someone no matter what you chose, and here you are, fulfilling that cursed prophecy. You are motion-sick from the constant view of Night City scanning past through the open door in the hovercraft. Johnny leans against the frame, smoking a cigarette that you likewise inhale through your own lungs. The singed tobacco burns sweetly past your throat, a signature and comforting scent of his that you’ve grown very fond of.
Is your relationship with him really coming to an end? Having only entered your life for a short time, it feels like he’s been there from the start. For all these trials and tribulations, it has been just you and him. A packaged deal. Inseparable. No one else understands… You read the way Reed referred to him in his message to you, such as excising a tumor, as if Johnny is to be discarded like some kind of parasite.
Logically speaking, they’re right. His presence is causing you harm, but he is also your salvation. You feel more at home with him in your skin, and you’re certain now that he does too. It’s his voice telling you to keep going to second guess and question. Or maybe it really is just yours and the Relic is acting as designed. Regardless, it seems you’re about to find out anyway.
“Detecting strong emotions.” One of the doctors announces while analyzing the readings on his diagnostics tablet before setting it aside and retrieving a tranquilizer from his back pocket. He wastes no time in plunging the needle into your thigh, effectively numbing you instantly. “Let’s do this. We want your brain burden-free, never know how stress might affect it.”
“Think this is it, kiddo.” Johnny watches you slump into your seat, eyelids already growing heavy with your heart rate also slowing down drastically. His face is pulled down in a forceful frown, as if concentrating so hard on not shedding a single virtual tear that it causes him to wear an expression of pure wretchedness. He puts his shades back over his face in order to hide behind their obscurity, but you can still see the sorrow in his eyes.
“Guess…so.” You manage to mumble groggily, your strength slipping away by the second.
“Think we can find it in our hearts to forgive each other?” Johnny asks, but you know not what he means. You have nothing to forgive him for, except maybe a broken heart for getting so attached to someone that is killing you. However, no number of apologies in the world could ever make up for what’s about to happen to him, and you’re not sure if you’re ready to live with a debt that can’t ever be repaid.
“Yeah. I can.” There’s a pause before you ask the same in reciprocation, fearing for his answer. “You?”
“Think I can too.” His voice echoes as your consciousness fades to black, but when you wake up, you’re back in your little loft apartment in The Glen, having ended the dream before it could continue the way you remember. The entire wall of windows welcomes you with that same view of Night City you saw before passing out after a long gambling match at the Black Sapphire. Your head is in a flurry, trying to concentrate on the stability of the exposed brick enclosing you within these four walls and not the hustle and bustle of the hover vehicles zooming around outside. Still, it makes no difference, and you are left sprinting a few feet to the bathroom. You collapse, knees hitting the cold tile as you heave the entirety of your stomach’s contents into the porcelain bowl. Wiping your mouth, you pull yourself up by supporting your stance with the bathroom counter, though your muscles have atrophied with your mistreatment. Your arms tremble, elbows nearly buckling on their own before you steel yourself, splashing water on your face and swishing the foul flavors away before finishing with a shot of mouthwash. The antiseptic mint shocks your senses, burning your nose and tongue and you cough when gargling it, likewise spitting it down the drain too.
Looking into the mirror, your eyes have sunken deep with dark circles making their mark around each one. Your skin tone takes on a sickly green color and you’re already planning on spending the next few days in bed, rotting away until further notice. “Oh V…”
Johnny’s digitized appearance manifests behind you. He steps closer in an attempt to caress you with his phantom touch, but you swiftly turn around and walk through his pixelated form, ignoring him to return to bed.
“Don’t you think we should talk about this?” Johnny pops up at the foot of your bed, the glaring sunbeams break up his holographic projection, bleeding reality back into your fantasy. The ultraviolet warmth sears into your retinas and makes your head pound even more as the splitting pain throbs. Impulsively, you search for the only numbing agent within reach, yet another bottle of acerbic spirits. You don’t see him, but you can feel Johnny shake his head in judgment of your actions. “V, please.”
“What’s there tuh talk ‘bout?” You rhetorically ask, slurring between swigs of alcohol as each drink masks your oppressive symptoms resulting from prolonged misuse of the substances around you. Red and blue pill bottles are tipped over, scattering both the omega-blockers and pseuds across your bedside and counter space. When Johnny would get a little too vocal you would pop one, but when you started getting bored, you’d pop its counterpart to bring him back. Doing it this way always caused a rather violent episode of seizures, so you numb those senses with copious amounts of alcohol. So far, the system has been working and you’ve been essentially brain dead this entire time.
“Well, the fact that you haven’t put anything in your pie-hole that wasn’t paint thinner for the past week and a half is a start.” Johnny takes a seat on the plush edge, his steel grasp reaching for your bare calf, but you block his touch and cover yourself with a thin duvet. He doesn’t understand why you’ve grown so distant, but it doesn’t stop him from trying to get through to you. “A bender like this can’t last. Trust me, I should know.”
“Fuck off... ’m juss gettin’ started.” You say through half lidded pupils, suddenly noticing Johnny turn blurry and then duplicate before you start to pass out again. Johnny rolls his eyes when you stretch an arm towards your nightstand and pop a couple more pills, one of each red and blue this time, chasing them with more gulps. “I’ve better things to do ‘n listen to you chew m’ear off.”
“Fine V. I’ll let you rest.” Johnny stands, his fists clenching at his sides before he departs, angrily making his way down the stairs. Despite him being a figment of your imagination, you can still sense his fading footsteps descending, but you lose consciousness in the few seconds before he reaches the bottom.
Johnny noticed you really didn’t look well coming out of the bathroom. The sensations he shares with your combined neural systems frighten him. The splitting headache, constant nausea, if he had guts to spill then he definitely would ten times over. He watches you sleep while sitting on the recliner in your elevated book nook, monitoring you to ensure that your breathing doesn’t stop or to be there if you start thrashing again while also respecting your space. He sits with his arms crossed, scanning you like a hawk with his eyes trained on your rising and falling chest.
Though, you only rest somewhat peacefully for about half an hour. The droning and slow-moving time allows Johnny to slip into a false sense of confidence that you’re just sleeping. He becomes distracted by his own plaguing thoughts, taking his eyes off you for a moment too long to cradle his face in his hands to express his frustration.
It is only when he hears you gurgling and gagging that he lifts his gaze. “V!”
He stands in an instant, simultaneously teleporting over to your bedside within the same second to fight for control within your own body. Your brain fires off the neurotransmitters, yet he is the one hijacking your motor functions. You’re lying on your back with foamy spittle bubbling up and blocking your airways. Johnny battles with the dead weight of your torso in order to turn you on your side. “C’mon, V! Work with me here!”
The struggle requires every modicum of his might. Johnny finds himself on the edge of a rageful whimper when your choking becomes more violent. The excess leakage spills from your nose and mouth and soaks your pillow, drenches spots of your hair. “Fuck! Please don’t do this to me! V!”
You’re worse for wear and declining by the second. Empty glasses and bottles littering your apartment mirror your empty stare as you tried your hardest to outrun your history. You fought like hell for this life, yet one bad decision could wash it all away before you even know what hit you. In the end, it’s no mystery that you’ve no one to thank but yourself. Maybe your ambitions were too high and unachievable. Maybe you were never cut out for this to begin with.
You’ve lost control again, sinking so far deep into yourself and Johnny cannot bear to witness you drown. He finally manages to shift your palm flat on the mattress beneath you, pushing you up like his life depends on it. Your face drifts to the left and all toxic contents fall to the floor and your airways are finally clear. Johnny heaves a breath of relief as he manifests outside of you now, kneeling at your bedside to bestow his apparitional touch on your despairing features. He brushes the hair out of your face and ensures your mouth is emptied. “Dammit V… Why are you doing this to yourself?”
You say nothing, knocked out cold and completely unaware that Johnny saved you once more. He dares not to think about what would have happened if you were truly alone - if he weren’t here with you. “V don’t give up on me today. I never beg but…”
“Khe…khe-khe .” You cough a few times, waking yourself up to the unpleasant sensation of your nostrils and throat ablaze even worse than before. The trails of moisture dripping down your chin are irritating and itchy. You wipe it clean with the tissues on your nightstand and are actually astonished by how much cleaning there is to do. The more you look around, the more mess you find. All signs point to the small patch of darkened carpet where the majority of the sick landed. “ Eugh… What the fuck?”
You make the walk of shame to the shower, depositing your soiled clothes and sheets into a hamper before activating one of your automated carpet-cleaning bots to tackle the remnants you left on the floor. With both hands against the tile wall, you focus incredibly hard on trying to get the room to stop swirling. Once cleaned off, you change into a new set of pajama shorts and tank top before making your way downstairs. The window shades are closed with the push of a button, and it immediately soothes the throbbing in your skull. Once in your kitchen, there rests of course the usual assortment of intoxicants, save for a pristine and unopened bottle of mineral water.
When making a move for the Centzon tequila, something happens and you miscalculate the aim of your arm, finding yourself grasping at the neck of the bottle of water. You let go of it, shaking the stiffness out of your hand and recoiling it against your chest. Using the other one, you make a second attempt but end up with the same result. “Johnny, I know that’s you! Cut it out!”
The noise of choppy interference resounds, and Johnny’s binary body solidifies to the left of you. He gets in between you and the counter, pushing you aside and back into the living area of the loft. Unbalanced and weak, you’re unable to even fend off your own subconscious as Johnny’s maneuvering leads you to the set of couches where you fall seated. “I’ll cut it out when you stop trying to kill yourself.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” You scoff at him.
“You know what I am talking about.” Johnny is fuming, yet his speech is steady and intentional. He’s never spoken to you this way and it’s the first time you actually register that your violent avoidance might be hurting him too. “I noticed you actually took a shower today.”
A shivering chill rattles your spine when a droplet of water falls from the tips of your still-damp hair and soaks into your shirt. “I drooled in my sleep. So, what.”
Johnny shakes his head and folds his arms, turning around to face away from you as if doing all he can to contain his temper. “V, if I wasn’t here, you would be dead right now.”
“Yeah, yeah. You don’t have to keep reminding me.” You blow him off, crossing your legs as you think he’s referencing the fateful mission that cost you your sanity as well as the life of one Jackie Welles.
“No, V.” Johnny doesn’t turn around, an odd move to remain speaking to you from afar when he has had no qualms with getting in your face in the past. “Just now. I almost lost you.”
“You gonk, stop fucking with me.” The dismissal of his words is instinctive at this point, yet you feel no remorse for the venom you deliver unto him.
Johnny turns around at last. He locks his stare with yours and you notice a glimmering layer sparkling in his eyes. You double take and confirm it’s there, letting your guard down bit by bit to hear him out. “You overdid it on the pills, alright? I assumed control and flipped us over.”
To say the silence is deafening would be an understatement. Johnny almost lost his composure, a hair away from breaking down in front of you, but he’s still fighting. He only hopes you will fight with him.
“Should have just let me die…” You remark to him, defeated.
“Is that what you really want?” He asks, advancing closer with the inflections in his speech becoming more animated. “Are you saying I acted against your wishes?”
“Don’t try and tell me you didn’t do it for your own selfish reasons of having a second chance at a life.” You growl back at him. “My life!”
“It was never about me, V. Always you. Always.” Johnny softens, stepping closer and leaning over your angered form on the couch. He’s hovering over you with both his hands on the supporting structure, encasing you. He is reminded that he used to walk this very same line. Speaking from experience, he knows that you’re probably thinking he doesn’t care about you one bit. All the good and bad you do make no difference when the devil’s price still requires a soul. “Now seriously, tell me what’s going on with you.”
“We either go the ‘Saka route and risk our lives, I call up some friends and risk their lives, or I call Reed and schedule the surgery. Risking… your life.” Johnny cannot experience your dreams with you, only conscious thought and memories. You hid its recurrence from him until now, still having not decided which path you should take. “And to be honest, I don’t want to do any of it.”
Johnny kneels, keeping you trapped in the plush cubicle while dialing his urgency back a bit to communicate that he's coming from a place of concern. This gives you space while keeping an intimate distance to continue this difficult conversation. “I-I’m lost, Johnny. If I can’t even save myself, how the hell am I expected to save you?”
"Who said you have to save me?" Johnny's voice softens at this sentiment. You're dying and you still crave self-sacrifice in order to give him a second chance.
"I know it's what you want." You confess, and Johnny deflates at your answer.
"It doesn't matter what I want." Johnny drops his gaze, nods and lets out a sigh. “Out of all of those, just… Don’t make the call to Reed. We’ll find another way.”
“What did you say?” You ask, baffled by the familiarity of his statement.
“Say what?” Johnny retorts, confused.
“Repeat what you just said.”
“Don’t make the call to Reed?”
You become lost in thought as this cryptic deja-vu lets itself be known. “This is how it started”
“What started?”
“My dream.” You confirm. “This morning.”
“Oh, so that’s what made you all pissy.” Johnny assumes playfully, hoping this spurt of humor will make you smile.
“Shut up.” You chuckle. His perfectly placed funnies bring you further out of your head and you actually like the way it feels when he’s so close, making you laugh again.
“What happened in the dream?” Johnny wonders, pleased to see you smiling but he watches as it fades fast while you recount fragments of your visions.
“You asked me not to call Reed, but I did anyway. I was in an AV that he sent. There were two doctors. You asked me to… open the door to let you see NC one last time.” You feel the warmth of a single tear fall and stain your cheek.
“Before I got wiped.” Johnny lets his head hang slightly. “Is that it?”
Nodding in remorseful grief, you continue with a slight tremble in your speech. “I woke up from a coma two years later with Reed pushing an FIA desk position down my throat, I guess as a sorry for fucking up my life? Couldn’t use my chrome anymore. Lost all my friends. My apartments. Rogue ended up with my cat, so that was one good thing at least. I don’t know where my Iguana went… It’s probably dead. And at the end of it all, I was just… a nobody. I couldn’t even defend myself against a couple gutter rats on the street.”
Johnny climbs atop the couch and pulls you into his space. “Hey, V. Look at me.”
His finger lifts your chin and you feel him slowly meet your gaze with his. Despite his movements, you’re still staring at the floor, stubbornly denying him what he’s asking. “Please, I want to see your eyes.”
You finally do what he asks, tears falling as your mind lingers on the thought of him being erased from your mind. This is exactly what you were trying to avoid, yet you’re currently being thrust into facing your fears head on. You can’t stand for Johnny to see you in this light, but according to what he had revealed to you moments prior, not even an OD is enough to scare him away. You venture to think it’s about time you start believing him if you’re struggling to have faith in yourself. “I’m sorry, Johnny… I’m just so messed up.”
“No, V. I think you’re even more beautiful.” Johnny knows exactly what to say to pull you out of your episodes of despondency. You curse yourself, wondering why you were so petrified of this confrontation when his patience and tenderness actively begins healing you from within. “It was just a dream. And you’re not a nobody. You mean more to me than you probably know.”
Johnny’s finger on your chin moves and his whole palm is laid atop the length of your cheek. He strokes you softly and the heat of his skin actually radiates to yours. He lightly brushes his lips against yours. The stubble on his face pokes you, but you are eager to feel the sting. He can sense you wanting to continue, to push your limits, but he helps you shelve that idea for later knowing it would be just another distraction. By pulling away and pushing you back into your seat, you read his message loud and clear and stop instigating when you realize he has more to say. “You’re everything, V. All that I am and all that I’m too scared to be.”
“Johnny…”
“Don’t. Just listen for a sec.” Johnny gathers himself, preparing his lines so that he doesn’t stumble over his words or deliver something abrasive when he doesn’t mean it. “You’re so focused on what everyone else wants, have you even considered what you want?”
Regardless of what happens, you don’t want to lose Johnny. Your unique predicament makes you nothing but a money-making opportunity to some, an obligation to others, and a science experiment to the rest. Their empty souls are bleeding you and Johnny dry just for fun. People of power spew lies, lying in wait amidst deeper waters as they smell your fear like a drop of blood in the Pacifica ocean. If you were to snuff out your own lights, you’d be giving up before you even tried, though you want only to be saved from yourself, from this Hell and from this consequence.
“You, Johnny.” You sniffle. “All I want is you. The rest could burn for all I care.”
Johnny lets you relax with your head on his chest, him resting his scratchy chin on you. His torso rattles with a smitten laugh and he continues to pet your hair, glad to know you still have that fiery spirit of yours. “Say you told the FIA to stick their offer where the sun don’t shine. Where does that leave us?”
“It certainly doesn’t put us in that AV, I’ll tell you that much.” You confidently confirm to Johnny, he kisses you again. His closeness disarms you, still somehow able to make you nervous even after all this time. Your heart races, or maybe that’s his. Johnny holds you tightly, planting more kisses atop your head. Your accumulated anxiety has begun to dissipate, and you actually start feeling better. He is the grounded shore, and you are the turbulent waves breaking and crashes against him. You have the power to erode him to nothing, to shatter his foundation and leave him in ruins, but he withstands your force while giving you a safe place to land every time. “Johnny?”
“Mhm?” He responds, opening his eyes and craning his head towards you.
You kiss him this time, holding it for a few seconds longer than the ones before. You melt into each other while riding the waves of this cozy excitement as they come. “Is it okay if I say that… I love you?”
“Why wouldn’t it be?” Johnny presses his forehead to yours, his locks of hair meeting your own fringe. “I’ve loved you for a long time now, V.”
