Chapter 10

Colubrem in Sinu Fovere*

"Don't kill me! Please!"

Apuleius rocketed awake, clamping a hand over his mouth, terrified that the shameful phrase had come from his lips. The dream he'd been having, his recurring nightmare, had gotten worse since...well, since Emme had made such a fuss about the toy car. Even before he would awake, heart pounding wildly, having dislocated his surroundings from restlessness while he slept. His worst fear was that he would begin to talk in his sleep, reveal his nightmares, show weakness.

But, happily, the begging hadn't come from him.

The fiend was finally awake. Apuleius had insisted on binding him before they fell asleep, and Emme had to agree with him for practical reasons. He was a fiend, a fiend that Apuleius had crucified, and if he woke before they did, he would murder them with their own weapons. Apuleius was glad he'd taken the precaution, because it was still in the early, dark hours of the morning. Emme slept still, not stirred by the fiend's pleas.

Apuleius stood, extricating his limbs from hers without waking her. The fiend looked up at him from the ground, fear shining in his dull, chem-addicted eyes. Apuleius drew his machete. This was his chance. Emme might have prevented him from killing the fiend if she were awake, but she wasn't awake. She would never have to know. Apuleius could lie, say he got free of his bonds and tried to attack Apuleius.

He drew back his machete, intent on hacking the man before him to pieces. Not because he was filth. Not because he was a profligate. Not because he was a chem-crazed degenerate waste of life. Apuleius would turn his flesh into ground meat because, for several hours, he had thought Emme was dead or dying. That had torn a hole in him, in a way he hadn't known anything could. It had destroyed him, he who served the greater cause of Caesar, who had stood up to cazadores and deathclaws and lived to tell the tale.

"Please!" the fiend begged again.

Apuleius couldn't bring himself to swing it down. He had killed before. It wasn't any kind of aversion that held him back. Slicing through the other fiend's flesh had been like slicing through butter, and he felt about as guilty about it. But it was Emme's voice in the back of his head that stayed his arm.

Revenge is the last thing I'd want. I'm a doctor. It's who I was in life. Don't ever think I'd want people hurt because I died.

It was unlike anything he'd ever heard anybody say. In his old tribe, a gecko had killed one of the older members, and the young men of the village had hunted that gecko down and killed it. When he'd lost fellow Legionaries, it was understood that they all wanted to be avenged. It's what he would want, if someone killed him. The idea that Emme didn't want people to die in response to her death was alien to him. But the conviction in her eyes when she'd said it had convinced him that she meant it.

Even though it went against every fiber of his being, Apuleius lowered his machete. He nudged the fiend, who went limp with relief, onto his front and sliced open his bindings. The fiend scrambled to his feet.

"Go," Apuleius growled. "Before I regret this."

It was too late for that. But the fiend scurried off before Apuleius could act on his regret, and it saved his worthless little life, too. Apuleius threw his machete into the dirt in disgust, at the fiend, at Emme's counterintuitive request, at himself.

Then he saw Emme's warm, brown eyes staring up at him. She was sitting upright, and he wondered how long she'd been awake. Long enough, clearly. Her eyes shone with...gratitude? Respect? Hope?

Of course. She was still hoping he'd changed his mind about going West with her. Hoping that he'd changed. That he would abandon his Legion ties. But he couldn't, not now, not ever. His nightmares had reminded him of that. He decided to dispel that hope of hers before she had the chance to voice it.

"Grab the stuff," he said, gesturing, knowing they couldn't wait around now that the fiend was free. "We should head for Cottonwood Cove before the NCR gets a report about a Legionary from a crucifixion victim."

And the way her face fell tore him apart nearly as much as when he'd thought she was dead.

They stashed the backpack in an abandoned shack that had once belonged, according to a signpost, to a place called 'Wolfhorn Ranch.' It wasn't far from Nipton, at least, not far enough away that Apuleius wasn't still glancing over his shoulder, waiting for the fiend they'd let go to return with the NCR at his back. Because of this, Emme made it quick, but she also hid the bag well, beneath a floorboard and under some insulative straw. She didn't want to risk losing the bag on what promised to be the most dangerous leg of their journey, at least for her. It wasn't the caps, or the clothes she was afraid of losing. She needed to keep the notebook, the one Apuleius drew in. She needed some evidence that this had happened, some evidence that there was a part of Apuleius that wasn't a Legionary, through and through.

He was Legionary enough, though. No matter what she did, as long as there was a Legion, he would always return to them.

She'd been expecting people and questions and lies and deceit going through Camp Searchlight, and she was tired of all of it. If she had to explain to one more person that Apuleius was her brother or cheating ex-boyfriend or god knows what, had to hold Apuleius back from one more ill-conceived fight, she thought she might cry. It had been almost amusing at some points, always exciting, but now there was so much...messed up, between the two of them. The toy car in Legion, Apuleius' twisted offer to her, her offer to him, both rejected - something had been broken in a relationship that never worked right anyway. Emme couldn't afford to deal with an entire camp of soldiers.

But when she didn't have to, she found she couldn't be grateful. Those soldiers were dead. Camp Searchlight was a radioactive waste zone.

They'd seen the green haze that settled over the town from a mile off, but neither of them had even guessed at the magnitude of the destruction there. Not until they were approached by a dark-skinned man wrapped in thick NCR armor. Apuleius wasn't happy about his rapid approach, and he gripped his machete tightly, his feet settling into a fighting stance. Emme prayed there wouldn't be a scene, but prayer hadn't done her much good lately, and anyway, she didn't even know who she was praying to. Taking it into her own hands, she stepped forward slightly, positioning herself between the NCR soldier and Apuleius just enough to be in the way if he swung that machete. That should deter him, at least.

"Hang on there, traveler," the soldier said. "You'll want to steer clear of this place - the whole town is irradiated to high hell."

That explained the haze, but it was still a shock. Places didn't become this irradiated without the world hearing about it, or so Emme had assumed. At least the Mojave Outpost should have known. Looking at the communications equipment the NCR soldiers before her had at their disposal, Emme realized that the outpost most certainly did know. So why wasn't everyone buzzing about it?

Unless they were keeping it quiet. To try and keep morale high, keep the civilians from panicking.

"What happened?" she asked.

"Some Legionaries snuck into the camp and set off some kind of radiation bomb. I don't know where they got it, but it was damn effective. Killed almost everyone and turned the rest into ghouls."

Apuleius reacted the most to that. Shock and disbelief flittered across his face, Emme saw out of the corner of her eye. He hadn't shown nearly so much sympathy at Nipton. Maybe he was learning to care more - but that was unlikely.

"How did you survive?" she asked the NCR soldier, reeling.

"I was out on patrol at the time so I wasn't in the camp when it happened. There were a few others with me after it happened, including some of my superiors. Between radiation poisoning and attacks by the Legion they all died out."

"And how did the Legion get into the camp?" Apuleius spoke up, surprising Emme.

"I don't know, unfortunately. There may be clues somewhere inside the camp, but I'm not about to run in there to find out."

"Are you sure it was Legion?"

The NCR soldier gave Apuleius an odd look; after all, it was an odd question.

"Of course I'm sure. I saw the bastards who did it high-tailing it back to Cottonwood Cove, dressed in those stupid skirts Legion likes to wear."

"They're tunics - "

Emme dragged Apuleius away quickly, before he got into another fight.

"He's a history fanatic. Sorry. Likes his details," she excused. "We'll head North to Boulder City."

"Any place is better than here. Just stay outside of the area marked by radiation symbols and you should be alright. And watch out for ghouls."

"Will do," Emme nodded, grateful to have successfully avoided a confrontation.

Apuleius seemed less grateful. He was still fuming about the skirt comment as they stormed away. At least, Emme thought it was the skirt-tunic mix up that had him steaming until he complained about something else entirely.

"I don't understand," Apuleius muttered once they were out of earshot. "This isn't right."

Now he was going to have a moral quandary? The horrors here hardly compared to those at Nipton. Of course, who was Emme to compare horrors? She had seen so much death at this point it was all starting to run together.

"Not as bad as Nipton," she pointed out. "Those were civilians, kids. The people here were soldiers, they knew the risks. It's awful, but - "

"That's not what I meant," Apuleius interrupted, brushing the notion aside. "It's just that...a radiation bomb? That's not right. It just isn't right."

"What can you possibly mean?" Emme said, annoyed.

"I mean the Legion at its very core is opposed to technology. We don't use guns if we don't have to. We destroy technology when we find it. And a radiation bomb is just the very kind of nuclear fire that destroyed the old world, the very kind of technology we set out to eradicate. To use it was...not only against our principles, but cowardly."

"Cowardly?"

"If the Legion wanted Searchlight, they should have charged in, blades drawn, and taken it by blood. That's the honorable way. That's the Legion way. That they would have followed any other course of action...it just isn't right."

"Maybe they're changing their tactics, I don't know," Emme huffed, exasperated. "Ask one of your superiors about it when you get back."

That brought Apuleius up short, and his face went slack. He seemed shocked and horrified. For a moment, Emme worried he'd seen a ghoul, and she drew her weapon, casting about for any threats. But there weren't any, and that wouldn't have been his reaction, anyway. If Apuleius had seen an enemy, he would have charged it wildly with his machete drawn. It was the Legion way.

"What is it now?" she asked.

"I...was questioning the actions of my superiors," he said in horror. "I'm sure the Legion had their reasons for what they did here, and they are certainly beyond me, a lowly Legionary of Caesar's mighty army. It was wrong of me to question..." He gulped.

"That's called having a mind of your own, Apuleius," Emme said bitterly. "It's something I wish you'd do more often."

Apuleius ignored her, still angry with himself for what he'd said, and they continued East in silence.

A good thing, too. Even as far out as the detoured route they had taken, ghouls were present at every turn. They only ended up having to kill one, a ghoul that didn't even have time to hiss at them before Apuleius separated its head from its shoulders. If it had, it would have attracted the attention of four other ghouls on the other side of an outcropping of rocks. They wouldn't have left that fight unscathed.

Then they were out of danger, Cottonwood Cove sprawled out before them. Emme couldn't see much more of the cove from here than the silhouettes of Legionaries passing from tent to tent, but she could see the crosses that lined the road all the way down. She shivered seeing those crosses.

She had to ask herself what exactly it was she was doing here. Had she done the right thing? All this effort, risking her life, to get a monster back to the slaver empire intent on conquering all of Vegas? Apuleius, who reveled in the people he'd killed. Apuleius, who'd defended the Legion's choice to kill every man, woman, and child in Nipton. Apuleius, who was so blinded by loyalty he refused to let himself see how evil the Legion was, or even to let himself care.

Of course she hadn't done the right thing. But she'd known that for quite some time now, and she'd still done it. Why?

Probably the same reason why she couldn't tear herself away from Apuleius' gaze now. They'd fallen into a trance, each unwilling to break, unwilling to go their own ways, unwilling to say goodbye. Hundreds of people had passed through her clinic, people of every kind. Some were good, some were bad, but most were somewhere in between, just trying to get by. And she knew she would never again meet anybody like Apuleius. Maybe it had something to do with the way he saw the world through his drawings, the details he picked up on. Not just details to improve the picture, details that mattered. Like the teddy bear peeking out from under the arm of the overdosed junkie, hinting at her age, or the fear in the eyes of the deathclaw, driving it to kill, or the worry and protectiveness of Emme in the drawing in North Vegas. Or maybe it had more to do with his morals, skewed as they might be. Driven by honor, by loyalty. The strongest sense of justice she'd ever run across. And as stubborn as - well, as stubborn as a mule. The Golden Ass.

"It was a rose," she said finally, breaking the trance they'd fallen under.

"What?"

"A rose," she repeated. "Originally, it was a rose that was supposed to turn the Golden Ass back into a man. Not a sword, or a spell, or an army. A rose."

"Originally," Apuleius said, catching the word. "But it didn't end that way, did it?"

"Of course not. That would be too simple. There wouldn't be a story if that had happened."

"Do me a favor," Apuleius said, reaching out and squeezing her hand, the closest he could come to a goodbye. "Don't tell me how the story ends."

Then he turned and began the march down the hill to the camp at its base. Emme held back the tears because she shouldn't be crying, dammit. She had met this boy only a few days ago. She'd never become so attached to someone, and there was no excuse for it now. Especially to someone so twisted. And, what was more, she refused to watch him walk off into the sunset like some love-struck star-crossed heroine from a crappy New Vegas radio song. She turned her back on him, facing West.

And that was when she saw the Legionaries.

They were just silhouettes on the crest of the hill, fighting off the ghouls she and Apuleius had avoided. But they saw her. One of the Legionaries pointed her out to another, clearly some kind of commander. It was too late to hide, and there was nowhere to run. Legionaries in front of her, Legionaries behind her, and mountains on either side. She turned and sprinted for Apuleius.

"Apuleius, there are Legionaries, they've seen me!" she gasped out. "Help me!"

He didn't flinch, didn't falter, but his eyes flashed black.

"There's no way they're letting you leave here alive," he said grimly, turning to face them as they killed the last ghoul. "Get behind me."

Emme did as he said, trembling with fear. The Legionaries advanced slowly, maddeningly. They didn't need to rush. There was nowhere for the pair to run to. Before they could get in fighting range, Apuleius called out a greeting.

"Vale, Decaneus Severus," he said. "I am Apuleius. I was separated from my unit during an animal attack, and after slaying the beasts, I made my way back here, to serve the Legion once more, with the aid of this profligate."

That was good. He was mentioning that Emme had helped him. Perhaps the Legion would let her go. Hell, maybe they'd even bestow some kind of honor on her or something. God knew she deserved gratitude from somebody .

"Apuleius, you say?" the Decaneus said, and though he did not seem less suspicious, he sheathed his weapon. "We received word of your death a few days ago. A hero's death, falling back to hold off the beasts and defend your party. The service was spectacular."

Apuleius beamed with pride. Emme supposed that if having a nice funeral service was the highest of praise around here, maybe she didn't want to stick around for whatever honor the Legion decided to bestow upon her.

"I did not die that day," he said. "I emerged victorious, and offer my blade once more to the will of the mighty Caesar."

The Decaneus looked impressed, clapping the boy on the shoulder.

"Since your position in your squad has already been filled, I think you may be in line for a promotion. One day you may even reach the rank of centurion, if you spill much blood in the Legion's name. And there will be plenty of opportunity for that. The battle for Hoover Dam fast approaches."

Emme couldn't help the revulsion at what he was saying. Apuleius, spilling blood? Wearing armor made of enough trinkets taken from fallen enemies to clothe him? It was everything she didn't want for him. But try as she might, she couldn't control his life. She made her mistakes, and he made his.

"But first," the Decaneus continued, "the profligate. She cannot be allowed to live, of course, after traveling for so long with a Legionary. She knows too much of our ways, and I will not take the risk. What do you suggest? Would crucifixion be suitable?"

Apuleius faltered, and for a moment, Emme was sure he was going to get her out of this. She knew he cared about her, she just knew it. And as a final farewell gesture, he would save her life.

"I was going to make her a slave," he said, and Emme's jaw dropped. "That was my intention from the beginning. I owe her my life, and I had hoped to reward that by correcting her ignorance and instilling in her the values of the Legion. Honestas, Industria, Prudentia. But of course, I bow to your wisdom."

Emme stepped away from Apuleius and drew her pistol, aiming it at the back of his exposed head. The other Legionaries drew their weapons, and some were armed with guns, despite the Legion's aversion to them. Guessing what was happening, Apuleius turned around, and there was neither fear nor guilt on his features. It was the kind of expression Emme remembered on her mother's face whenever she was being unreasonable or throwing a temper tantrum.

"You won't shoot me," he said confidently. "Now hand me your obscene pre-war tech weapon and end this nonsense."

Emme gulped as he held out his hand for her laser pistol. He was right. She didn't have it in her to shoot him, not after all she'd done trying to keep him alive.

"Maybe I won't shoot you," she admitted, rather than attempt to deny it and be called on her bluff. "But I'll shoot them. I'll shoot every last one of them."

"No you won't," he insisted.

"Oh, you think so? Why the hell not?" she asked.

She was still hoping for some secret signal from him to let her know everything was okay, that he was just playing an angle, lying through his teeth to get her out safely. A wink, a head nod, anything. But there was nothing. She knew this was for real. The facts fit. Yes, he cared for her - but he saw enslavement as a gift. He was warped, twisted. And he'd said something along those lines before.

Even life as a Legion slave is better than the life of a profligate. You should consider becoming one.

I thought you might want to. We could see each other after this was over, if you were a Legion slave. I mean, what future do you really have to the West?

This wasn't an angle he was playing. This was what he'd intended all along.

"You won't shoot them," Apuleius answered, "because it's yourself you'd be fighting for, yourself you'd be killing for. And it's not in you to do that. You won't kill for your own sake."

He was right, too. She told herself to fire, sent the command to her finger to squeeze on the trigger, but it wouldn't budge. Her finger refused to do her brain's bidding. Because if she killed these people, she'd have to live with it for the rest of her miserable life. No matter what good she did, she would always wonder if they could have done more, done better. She would always wonder if they could have changed, given time. She met their eyes, one by one. She couldn't kill them. The pistol dropped from her trembling fingers without her telling it to do so, landing on the dry, cracked earth with a hollow thud.

Immediately, two Legionaries grabbed her on either side, wresting her arms behind her back to her protests.

"Perhaps she will make a good slave," the one on her right commented. "Naturally submissive, this one. And not unattractive."

He grabbed her jaw, twisting her face to get a good look at it, and Emme yanked her head out of his grasp.

"Apuleius, you bastard! I saved your life, you son of a bitch! How can you do this to me?" The Legionaries began to drag her away, kicking and screaming. "Apuleius!"

But his eyes were cold, and he turned his back on her to discuss the details of his promotion with Decanus Severus. The Legionaries dragged her down to camp, and after taking a few powerful punches to the stomach, Emme quit struggling. She hung her head and dragged her feet, unable to keep the tears in this time. They reached a small area enclosed by a chain-link fence, and after affixing a heavy explosive collar to her neck, the Legionaries threw her in so roughly she was winded and had to catch her breath. By the time she had done so, the gate was locked, and the two Legionaries were halfway back up the hill.

*'Colubrem in sinu fovere' - 'to cherish a serpent in one's bosom,' this colorful phrase had its origins in Greek folklore. A farmer one morning picked up a frozen snake and put it into his bosom to warm it up. When the creature was revived by the warmth of the farmer's body, it promptly bit the farmer.