A year passed in a way that didn’t ask permission. The camp Yiannis had known shifted, then split, then expanded into something new. He moved with it because that was what he had always done. Work became structure, and structure became the only thing that held steady long enough to trust. By the time he was assigned to oversee a new camp on the southeastern edge, the title felt less like an achievement and more like something he had stepped into because no one else could hold it the same way.

The new camp stood just outside what used to be the city. The ruins still stretched in every direction, but here the land had been cleared enough to build something that looked like it might last. Not safe, not exactly, but organized. It carried the same system, the same quiet sorting of people into roles that made survival easier to manage. Yiannis moved through it without thinking too much about what it meant.

He didn’t talk about Charles.

No one asked.

The runs became routine again. Clear a path, check the perimeter, salvage what could still be used. It kept his days full and his thoughts from settling too long in one place. He learned new routes, new patterns, new ways to read the land. It was easier than remembering.

The day he saw him, nothing about the mission felt different at first.

They were clearing a stretch of ground that had been overlooked for months, something between the outer edge of the ruins and the start of a thicker tree line. It was quiet in a way that made everyone a little more alert. Too still. The kind of silence that usually meant something was waiting.

Yiannis moved ahead of the group, scanning the area without rushing. His focus stayed on the ground, the structures, the signs of movement that didn’t belong.

Then it shifted.

Not a sound. Not something obvious.

Just a presence.

He looked up.

For a second, it didn’t make sense. The figure stood at a distance, partly turned away, carrying a worn pack and a handful of dented cans tied together with cord. Slimmer than he remembered. Hair longer, falling unevenly around his face. The kind of change that came from time and distance and living without anything steady.

But it was him.

Yiannis felt it before he allowed himself to think it through.

Charles.

He didn’t move right away. His body stilled in a way that would have been noticeable if anyone had been watching him closely. He wasn’t thinking about the team behind him, or the route, or the plan they had come there to follow.

He was thinking about how easily this could break.

If he called out too fast, too loud, it might send him running. If he moved wrong, it might turn into something else entirely.

So he stayed where he was.

Watching.

Charles shifted slightly, adjusting the weight of what he carried. For a moment, it looked like he hadn’t noticed.

Then something changed.

He turned.

The distance between them wasn’t far enough to hide recognition.

They both saw it at the same time.

Charles froze.

Yiannis felt something in his chest tighten in a way he hadn’t allowed himself to feel in months. There had been nights, more than he would admit, where he had pictured this. Not clearly. Just fragments. A face in the distance, a voice he thought he heard when it wasn’t there.

But this wasn’t that.

This was real.

Charles didn’t move away.

That was the first thing Yiannis noticed. The second was the way he held himself, not tense exactly, but unsure. Like he hadn’t decided yet what this moment meant.

Yiannis took a step forward.

Slow. Measured.

He didn’t take his eyes off him.

Another step.

Charles stayed where he was.

That was enough.

Yiannis closed the distance more quickly then, not running, not rushing, just moving with purpose now that the space between them didn’t feel like something fragile.

He stopped a few steps away.

For a second, neither of them spoke.

“Charles,” Yiannis said.

The name felt unfamiliar in his mouth after so long, like something he had held onto but never used.

Charles’s face changed the moment he heard it.

Whatever control he had been holding onto slipped.

His eyes filled before he could stop it.

He didn’t speak right away. He just stood there, looking at Yiannis like he wasn’t sure if he was supposed to be real.

“I—” he started, then stopped.

His grip tightened slightly around the cans he was carrying, like he needed something solid to hold onto.

Yiannis took another step closer, slower this time.

“It’s me,” he said, softer now.

Charles let out a breath that didn’t steady anything.

“I know,” he replied, voice uneven. “I just… didn’t think—”

He cut himself off, shaking his head slightly.

“I didn’t think I’d see you again.”

Yiannis held his gaze.

“I didn’t either.”

Another pause stretched between them, thinner now but still there.

Charles’s shoulders shifted, like he was trying to decide whether to move closer or step back.

He didn’t do either.

“I used to think about this,” he admitted quietly. “Running into you somewhere. I’d—”

He stopped again, a faint, almost embarrassed breath leaving him.

“I’d wake up and it wasn’t real.”

Yiannis didn’t look away.

“This is,” he said.

Charles let out a short, unsteady laugh that didn’t quite land.

“Yeah,” he said. “I can see that.”

The silence that followed felt different from the ones they had shared before. Not heavy in the same way. Not unresolved.

Just full.

Yiannis glanced briefly at what Charles was carrying.

“You’re on your own,” he said.

Charles nodded.

“Have been.”

“How long.”

“A while.”

“That’s not an answer.”

Charles shrugged slightly.

“Long enough that I stopped counting.”

Yiannis took that in without pressing further.

“You look…” he started, then stopped, not finishing the thought.

Charles almost smiled.

“Different,” he said for him.

“Yeah.”

“That tends to happen.”

Another pause.

Behind Yiannis, the team waited. Not close enough to interrupt, but not far enough to ignore.

He didn’t look back.

“What are you doing out here,” Yiannis asked.

Charles lifted the cans slightly.

“Found a stash,” he said. “Powdered milk. Still usable, I think.”

Yiannis nodded.

“That’s good.”

“Yeah.”

They both knew that wasn’t what this was about.

Another silence stretched, thinner now, like something was shifting again.

Yiannis took a small step closer.

Charles didn’t move away.

“Come back with me,” Yiannis said.

The words came out quieter than he intended, but steady.

Charles’s expression changed again, something closing slightly behind his eyes.

“I can’t,” he said.

Yiannis didn’t react immediately.

“Why.”

Charles looked down for a second, then back up.

“Because I left for a reason,” he said. “That didn’t change.”

“We’re not the same camp.”

“I know.”

“It’s different now.”

Charles shook his head.

“It’s still a camp,” he said. “Still rules. Still… that system.”

Yiannis didn’t deny it.

“You don’t have to be part of that,” he said.

Charles almost laughed, but it didn’t quite come through.

“You know that’s not true.”

Another pause settled between them, thinner now but still carrying weight.

“Then come for a while,” Yiannis said. “Rest. Eat properly. You don’t have to stay.”

Charles didn’t answer right away.

He hesitated, and it showed in a way it hadn’t before. Not in his stance, not in his voice, but in the way his eyes shifted past Yiannis for just a second too long. Like he was checking something that wasn’t there. Like there was somewhere else he needed to be.

Yiannis caught it.

Charles looked back at him, expression closing off just enough to be noticed if you were paying attention.

“I don’t know,” he said. “I can’t just leave.”

“You’re already out here,” Yiannis replied. “What’s a few days.”

“It’s not that simple.”

“It doesn’t have to be complicated.”

Charles let out a quiet breath that didn’t quite settle.

“It is for me.”

Yiannis watched him for a moment, something in his focus sharpening. He let his gaze drop, just briefly, to what Charles was carrying. The cans tied together, worn but handled carefully. Not random. Not something you picked up without a reason.

Powdered milk.

The thought came quick, then faster than he expected.

Newborn.

Yiannis stilled.

“Why this,” he asked, voice quieter now. “Why powdered milk.”

Charles’s grip tightened slightly around the cans.

“Because it lasts,” he said. “Because it’s useful.”

“For who.”

Charles didn’t answer.

The silence stretched, not empty, just full of something that hadn’t been said yet.

Yiannis felt it settle before he could stop it. The way Charles hesitated. The way he hadn’t stepped closer. The way he kept glancing past him like there was something else pulling at him.

His mind moved faster than he wanted it to.

“You’re not alone,” Yiannis said.

It wasn’t a question.

Charles shook his head slightly, too quick.

“I’ve been on my own.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

Another pause.

“Charles.”

He didn’t respond.

Yiannis took a step closer, slow enough not to push, but enough to narrow the space again.

“Who is it for,” he asked.

Charles swallowed once, his gaze dropping to the ground before lifting again.

“It’s just supplies,” he said.

“That’s not true.”

“It is.”

Yiannis didn’t let it go.

“You don’t carry this much unless you need it,” he said. “And not like that.”

Charles’s jaw tightened.

“Let it go.”

“I can’t.”

Another silence, sharper this time.

Yiannis felt something cold settle under his ribs, the kind of realization that doesn’t come all at once but still hits just as hard.

“How old,” he asked quietly.

Charles froze.

That was enough.

Yiannis’s breath caught, just for a second.

“Charles,” he said, voice lower now. “How old.”

Charles looked away again, and this time he didn’t try to hide it.

“A few months,” he said finally.

The words came out small, like they didn’t belong in the open.

Yiannis felt the ground shift under that.

“A few months,” he repeated, slower.

Charles nodded once.

“Three,” he added.

Another pause, heavier now.

Yiannis’s thoughts moved too fast, trying to catch up to something that didn’t quite settle.

“Where,” he asked.

Charles didn’t answer immediately.

“Close,” he said after a moment. “Not far.”

Yiannis let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.

“You left them alone.”

It wasn’t accusation. Not exactly.

Charles’s expression tightened.

“I had to get food,” he said. “I don’t stay long.”

“That’s not safe.”

“Neither is anything else.”

They held each other’s gaze for a second, the tension sitting between them in a different shape now.

Yiannis ran a hand over his face, something unsettled breaking through his control.

“Why didn’t you tell me,” he asked.

Charles almost laughed, but it didn’t carry.

“Tell you what,” he said. “That I have two babies hidden out here in the middle of nowhere.”

“Yes.”

“And then what,” Charles shot back, quieter but sharper. “You take me back to the camp. They see them. They decide where they go. What they’re for.”

Yiannis didn’t respond.

“That’s what happens,” Charles said. “You know it.”

Another silence stretched, longer this time.

Yiannis looked at him, really looked now, like he was seeing something he hadn’t been allowed to before.

“You’ve been doing this alone,” he said.

Charles nodded.

“Yeah.”

“For three months.”

“Yeah.”

Yiannis let that settle, the weight of it pressing in from all sides.

“You should’ve died out here,” he said quietly.

Charles didn’t flinch.

“Probably,” he agreed.

“And they didn’t.”

“No.”

Another pause.

Yiannis exhaled slowly, something shifting in the way he held himself.

“Take me to them,” he said.

Charles shook his head immediately.

“No.”

“Why.”

“You already know why.”

“I’m not taking them back there,” Yiannis said.

“That’s not up to you.”

“It can be.”

Charles looked at him, searching for something in his face.

“And when it’s not,” he asked. “When someone higher decides it is.”

Yiannis didn’t answer right away.

“They won’t even ask me,” Charles went on. “They’ll just take over.”

“That’s not happening,” Yiannis said, firmer now.

“You can’t promise that.”

“I can try.”

“That’s not enough.”

Silence fell again, heavier this time.

Yiannis took another step closer, slower now.

“Charles,” he said. “You can’t do this alone forever.”

“I know.”

“Then let me help.”

Charles hesitated, something in his expression shifting again, not closed this time, but not open either.

“You said that before,” he said quietly.

“I mean it.”

“You always do.”

Another pause.

“Take me to them,” Yiannis repeated, softer now. “Just… let me see.”

Charles held his gaze for a long second.

Then he looked away.

“They’re not far,” he said finally. “But if you do anything that—”

“I won’t,” Yiannis cut in.

Charles nodded once, like that was enough for now.

“Alright,” he said.

The word felt heavier than it should have.

He adjusted the cans in his grip, then turned slightly, glancing toward the tree line.

“Come on,” he added.

Yiannis didn’t hesitate this time.

He followed.