* * * *
Ash woke up in Ross’ arms. He was warm and he was safe, and for a few beautiful minutes he was home again. Porthos was curled up against his belly, and that just made everything more perfect. He didn’t need more than this from life. Okay, an actual bed might be nice, and food. But this unit right here, with a roof over his head and the silence of a peaceful and stable environment—it was all he needed.
Once he might have thought he needed more. He’d had dreams of building fame as a correspondent. Ash Machado, he’ll get the story. His family would hear about him, all the stories he’d covered and everything he’d seen, and they’d love him again. They’d understand he couldn’t help who he was, and they’d welcome him back with open arms.
He’d achieved most of that. He’d seen things mos
