Welcome to chapter 5, I'm glad we've already made it this far! This chapter's a little shorter than the previous ones, though I can promise the chapters to follow will be far from short. I'm excited to say we're getting close to what I hope is the most interesting bits.
Thanks for reading!
The morning following Joshua and Remi's excursion was quite the unbearable one. Joshua roamed camp with a constant look of thoughtful anger upon his face; a look dripping with an ache for vengeance. Similar to the one he wore while fighting through the White Leg invasion of Zion. Whereas, Remi stayed slumped over, unkept, and draining away a pack of cigarettes in Joshua's cut-off of Angel Cave. Follows-Chalk hadn't been seen all morning. A couple of the other tribals mentioned he'd went out with a scouting group to the other end of the Eastern Virgin earlier this morning, however. No one knew when he'd come back.
Joshua paced just outside the entrance of Angel Cave, necklace chain coiled around his hand while the bull pendant itself was clenched in his palm. He hadn't set the thing down since he'd found it. Not that anyone had tried to take it from him, but nevertheless, he kept a tight grip on that poor, inanimate thing as if he expected it'd leap out of his hand if he didn't. Each of his men avoided Graham for the time being, as they were familiar with this mood of his. They knew well enough not to bother him while he was in it.
Remi, who was still inside the cave, sat at Joshua's desk. He was leaned over it, elbows propped against the table, both hands in front of his mouth. One hand held another cigarette to his lips, the other held a silver lighter under it. He sighed at the first wisp of smoke rising and fading into the dry air, then replaced the lighter in a pocket. The pocket, for once, not being one of his leather jacket. He'd taken it off and set it, folded sloppily, on the edge of Joshua's desk. This left his upper-body with only a dingy, gray-white shirt. How uncharacteristic. He looked a mess this way; shoulders absent of that familiar black leather, position far from erect, unshaven, spilling rolls of smoke into the air, and dark chocolate locks a ruffled mess atop his head. He hadn't slept last night. Hadn't had the opportunity to. Hadn't wanted to.
"I don't appreciate you filling the entire cave with smoke, you know." Remi's head jerked up at the sudden voice breaking his silence, alert, eyes directed to the entrance. Joshua stood in the passageway, arms crossed over his chest. "You should bring that outside," he said, giving a gesture behind him with a nod of his head. Remi's head dipped back down and a short grin perked at his lips. Was that Joshua's way of inviting him outside for, what, another cigarette and a talk? Hopefully this one wouldn't end in throwing punches, in which case. Remi took his cigarette from his mouth and to his fingers, exhaling a thick stream of smoke. He ran his free hand through his hair, pushing locks away from his forehead before he stood from Josh's desk.
"I didn't think you minded the smell of smoke anymore," he scoffed as walked around the desk, grabbing a half-empty pack of cigarettes and shoving them in his back pocket as he did so. Remi walked across the room to Joshua and grinned particularly modestly to him.
"It's bad for the lungs."
"Right. You give a damn about that now."
Joshua scoffed and gave a slow, brief shake of his head. Remi noticed his eyes squint and cheeks perk ever-so slightly. He'd smiled behind those concealing bandages of his. "I always have, Remi. You make me stop giving a damn."
"So, I'm kind of like lung cancer?"
"Exactly like lung cancer." At that, Remi gave a little chuckle and Joshua turned to begin walking out of the room, Remi following closely behind, cigarette replaced between his lips. They walked a short distance away from the cave after they rose from it, eventually ending in the center of camp, setting themselves around a cold, dormant campfire which the tribals generally used for cooking and warmth after sundown. Remi sat with his legs bent at the knees, hands hanging overtop his knees while his wrists rested against them. Joshua sat beside him, cross-legged, hands in his lap. One hand still had that necklace wrapped around it.
Remi pulled a cigarette from the pack he'd grabbed, gestured it toward Joshua. "Want one?" Joshua shook his head.
"Not today. Wouldn't want to replace the bandages again this early." Remi nodded, shrugged, replaced the item, and returned to smoking his own. Not too long before his would be out. He glanced over at Graham from his position on the ground, craning his neck to take a peak at his neatly folded hands. He just barely caught the glint of bronze-y metal contrasting against white bandages that confirmed Joshua still had the pendant. He'd expected as much.
"Did you have anything like that while you were, y'know, still in the Legion?" He asked, knowing Joshua would know exactly what he was referring to.
He paused. "Yes, but not exactly like this," he said, lifting the hand with the necklace and letting the pendant hang from an inch or two of loose chain off his hand. "This belonged to someone of a lower stature in the legion. A recruit. Maybe a courier," he said, eyes fixated on the medallion. "The medal a Legate wears bears a different crest; not of the bull, but of Caesar himself. Perhaps, if the Legate has made such an impact to've earned it, his own self." Remi nodded, listening with an obvious curiosity. He found Joshua's past as the former Legate and co-founder of The Legion fascinating. It was like talking to Joshua about a completely different person who he had a seemingly endless knowledge of.
"Did your pendant have your face on it, then?" He asked. He wondered, if what Joshua said was true, did Lanius have his face or Caesar's on a medal? He'd resist asking, given his knowledge of Joshua's distaste for the Legion's acting Legate.
"It did," he replied, "I've since lost the pendant. Didn't care for it enough to keep track of it, nor what it stood for. However, I would not be surprised if the Legion has used my face again since my exile; as a mark of shame." Joshua spoke about the subject of the Legion's attitude toward him as if it didn't bother him in even the least. Perhaps it was just insignificant to him now, perhaps his indifference was an act. At his words, Remi looked away and gave a short nod. It felt wrong in Remi's mind: how the Legion regarded Joshua, even if Joshua himself didn't seem to mind it. It felt to him as if an entire cult of hundreds was looking at a single man from a unanimous wrong perspective. A wrong perspective fed to their minds by their manipulative tyrant king.
"The Legion doesn't know shame," Remi added in Joshua's defense. Joshua's brows furrowed and he gave a light scoff.
"I disagree. The foundation upon which a Legionary is built is made up of shame. Shame, fear, and obedience." Joshua turned to face Remi, who was blowing one last river of smoke into the breeze before he dropped his cigarette butt into the dirt and crushed it under the toe of his boot. "What the Legion doesn't know is humility."
Remi lifted his chin. "How do you figure?"
"The Legion sees themselves as those who work under a divine, powerful being, and thus find themselves to have more worth than any other person, ghoul, or mutant in the Wasteland that doesn't share in their greater belief. They lack humility. Their leader lacks humanity." As Remi listened, he noticed Joshua's tone lower with a faint growl. Likely one of disgust.
"Did you.." He paused, hesitated, as Joshua lifted his gaze and made flawless eye contact with him. "Did you lack humanity when you were Legate, like Caesar?" Just like that, once again, his slate blue eyes were lost.
"I can only hope he and I no longer share that trait, Rem," he admitted. They fell into silence beyond those words. Remi's eyes fixed on the overcast sky, occasionally glancing over at his companion, who had closed his eyes. He was still awake, however. His hand still moved over that pendant in his hand, thumb rubbing over the smooth metal. After around twenty minutes of silence slipped through the palms of both men, Remi cleared his throat to speak. Joshua's eyes opened to narrow slits.
"Three more days, y'know," he mumbled. When Joshua's eyes focused on Remi, his eyes were gazing up at the soft, thick clouds overhead. Joshua knew what Remi was speaking of. Three more days until he was leaving Zion for New Vegas.
"Three more days 'till I have to tolerate your absence for a week, and thus have all work put on hold for a week," Joshua passed a short sigh. "Be sure it's only a week, otherwise I'll have to bruise your jaw again. You know I don't like it when you're late, nor do I want to have to compensate." Remi grinned scoffed a chuckle.
"Tolerate it.. You'll find it's a week off," he paused, glancing over at Joshua, "and it means no more smoke in your damn room." He grinned. "When am I ever late?" Joshua furrowed his brows.
"Fine. Then don't return on time by just the skin of your teeth."
Remi nodded. "I'd even bet I'll make it back a day early," he said, smile broadening. Joshua couldn't help but roll his eyes.
"I can only pray you're not as bad a gambler as I suspect," he poked, sending a surprisingly friendly glance to his counterpart, who huffed and lifted his chin. Pretending to be offended, though the grin on his cheeks made the aspect of pretend obvious.
"I've placed more winning bets than you'd think, Josh."
Their week from there on out was as slow as it was daunting. Little happened during the day, and now that Joshua had that pendant as his evidence of Legion presence in Zion, he stayed in camp for almost every hour of each day. Which, by extension, kept Remi in camp for just as long. Remi would meander around camp, gathering and preparing his things for his departure, while Joshua prepared for his week of what he expected to be an unbearable lack of progress. The two of them would cross paths on occasion, exchange words, share meals with the other tribals, but little else happened between the two for the remainder of the week. They were both subconsciously avoiding any significant conversations or actions happening between themselves, on account of Remi having to up and leave in only a few days. Wouldn't want to start anything if you knew you couldn't finish it.
Three days passed. The day of Remi's departure from Zion.
Remi stirred inside Angel Cave, awkwardly shuffling into a white t-shirt in the pitch black of morning before sunrise. He got his arm stuck in the wrong hole, had the shirt turned backwards, and had too many wrinkles in the fabric to count. Guess he wasn't much of a morning person. After he managed to slip on his shirt and smooth it down over his belt, he threw his leather jacket over his shoulders in a swift, smooth, practiced motion. At least he could do that without any lights on. He fixed the collar, fixed his hair, then lifted his Pip-Boy up to his eyes. The screen lit his face with a soft green glow, and he turned the dial on the side to flip through the pages. Checked his status. No crippled limbs, well fed and hydrated, no acute radiation.. All fit to travel. Remi let his arm fall by his side. He glanced around the cavity of the cave he stood in, peeking around to where Joshua lie to check if he still slept. He did.
Remi sighed through his nose. Leaving, no matter if alone or with others, was never an easy task for him. He figured it would be best to leave without the good grace of goodbyes. He began walking out of the cave. The caravan that would be taking him back home was scheduled to reach Zion at approximately 6:00AM, so it was that reason why he had the opportunity to wake early and leave Dead Horse camp without so much as a nod of his head, much less a proper goodbye. He wouldn't stop as he walked through camp, just made his way out in quiet and in peace. The only sound filling his ears was that of the sand and rock crunching beneath his boots.
"I would've thought you had more integrity than to leave in the middle of the night." Remi froze in his steps. He lowered his head, closed his eyes, and made a soft, defeated sigh. He should've known Joshua wasn't going to let him just slip out without a word said.
He stood still and only tilted his head, glancing back at Joshua, who stood a few feet out of the cave entrance. He lacked his bandages, his black vest, and his rattlesnake boots and belt. Only a white three-quarters buttoned shirt and those torn up jeans of his. "It's technically morning," he retorted back. A short, sad grin quirked at his lips. Joshua stepped further from the cave entrance, eventually ending at Remi's side. By the look on his face, Remi could tell Joshua didn't like his leaving, either.
"It's three in the morning, Remi. It's night," he insisted, monotone. Silence overtook them for only a few moments. "I don't know why you would expect I wouldn't notice you leaving." Remi huffed.
"I guess you never have been the type," he mumbled. "At least I made an attempt." Joshua scoffed at him in return and pat his shoulder.
"At least you did- and failed. I suppose it tells me how little of an impact you'd wish to leave, even though if you had left without a goodbye, it would have affected us more," he said, tone lowering and taking on an unfamiliar smoothness.
"..Right. Look, I just don't like goodbyes."
"And I respect your views. I share them, in fact. But, nevertheless, it's low even for you to leave in a manner no different than the thief slipping out the back window when his partner isn't looking. Especially, granted, I don't even know why exactly you're leaving."
"Wow, don't make me feel any better, Josh." Joshua lifted his chin and rolled his shoulders. He wasn't apologetic in the least for his crude comparison.
"Mmh. Like goodbyes or not, you should still take the time to make them. I've learned through my life that you never know when you'll be able to say such things again." Remi felt a weight settle on his chest. Was Joshua implying that one day one of their farewells like this would be their last? ..Well.. Of course, that was inevitable, no one lives forever, but it was something Remi had never thought about before. He didn't want to think about it.
Remi turned to be face-to-face with Joshua. He stood silent for a moment, drew in a long inhale. "..Goodbye, Josh," he said. The two exchanged a brief dip of the head and moment of eye contact. Remi turned to begin walking out of camp. "Keep Chalk out of trouble."
Remi's venture back to New Vegas felt as if it were weeks slower than his trip to Zion, with much on his mind to weigh down and draw out his thoughts, though it felt just as good when it ended, and even better to have his feet sink back into familiar Mojave sand. He was released back into the Mojave where he'd first started this journey: at the Northern Passage. He retrieved his stowed gear and began his way across the desert landscape. Past New Vegas itself, in fact. That wasn't his real destination on this trip. No, he had come back on a specific agenda that drew him past the old-world border of Nevada, and into that of Arizona. Across the Colorado.
Now hours into his return to his homeland, Remi walked along an ages old boardwalk, armor-clad men standing guard on all sides, and one waiting for him in a small boat ahead. As he stepped into the boat, the ferryman gave a nod of his head and uttered one short sentence in ritualistic greeting.
"Ave, true to Caesar." Remi would remain silent and only nod back in return. It would feel like needles piercing his tongue, were he to return those words.
This place.. This awful place, the home of the Legion, felt all the more daunting with Joshua and his involvement with The Burned Man's affairs in mind. The only thing keeping his mind out of a complete nervous slur was the constant reminder that his presence here was solely business, while his presence around Joshua was more than that. He stepped past the large wooden gates of The Fort with cautious steps. He knew each and every man here would have his head on a pike before Caesar were they to know of the man he considered an ally and a friend. Remi made certain that he didn't make eye contact with a single soul as he passed through camp. He evaded the eyes of even the highest ranked soldiers in the Legion, such as Vulpes and Lucius. Those two especially could see right through the unease he hid behind his solid, blank expression.
After having been granted permission, Remi passed through the curtain concealing Caesar's personal tent. His stomach felt like it was twisting around in tight knots as he approached the tyrant, sitting pretty on his throne. He stopped at the fraud son of Mars' feet.
"I appreciate your effort to keep to my tight schedule. Our last source of help was days late," Caesar sighed, "he is no longer holding any ties with the Legion, though I'm sure you would've assumed that already."
"I imagine. Your time does not need to be wasted, does it?" What an appeaser Remi could make himself in order to keep a raging bull at bay. This, and this alone, was his sole reason for taking work from the Legion. He needed to keep a positive reputation with the union of barbarians in order to maintain balance throughout the Mojave and for himself. A negative impression with the Legion would mean a world of misery for Remi and all who he knew, which was something he didn't want. He'd keep the Legion as far from his allies as he could, while he could.
"No," he made a gesture toward Vulpes, who stood by his side in a perfect soldier-grade stature. "Vulpes has your assignment ready, I expect you'll have it done as requested." Remi nodded and looked to the unsettling Frumentarii fox, whose eyes were invisible behind fitting black goggles.
Vulpes nodded briefly in greeting, however his expression remained the same. Cold. Emotionless. "I had sent a Frumentarii of mine to collect a package of sorts off a weapon supplier in Freeside," he explained, "that same Frumentarii came to betray us and made off with our package for himself. As far as I know, he is still in Freeside somewhere.." Vulpes' tone lowered, "I want him found and I want him killed. He isn't to be spared an execution; I only want his life ended as soon as possible. Then, bring the package back to us." He paused, stared dead into Remi's eyes. Remi could just barely make out his irises past dark lenses. "In the case you do the same this profligate did, we will have you not killed, but caught and strewn up onto a cross, then set ablaze for all to watch. Are my instructions understood?"
"Clear as day." With that, Vulpes turned his head. This was his silent means of dismissing Remi, which Remi responded to with walking out of Caesar's tent without another word.
As Joshua had once said, he considered killing just a chore when done righteously. Remi wished he could convince himself this assigned task was nothing more than a chore; one that didn't challenge his loyalties, at that.
Back in Zion, Remi's loyalties sat atop one of the cliffs enclosing Dead Horse camp, near the highest point of camp. He flipped the Legion pendant in his hand, watching the sun set over the canyon he called home; watching as if he were the self-proclaimed guard of this place and its people.