August 16, 2282
I-80 Heading East, Nebraska

Not a word was shared between them, and Ethan liked it that way. They had walked for nearly a day, with frequent stops due to his package's 'tender' feet. Fuck the feet. Her feet was always sore, and she acted like a stuck up bitch all the way to Lincoln, where the plan was to follow I-80 all the way to Illinois before taking I-50 north to Chicago. If the road east still existed that was.

The map he nicked from Jefferson Memorial of the old U.S.A. showed where the roads were supposed to be, and it served him well so far. It was still pretty accurate, allowing him to take the Interstates all the way from D.C. to Oklahoma, where the most intense Radstorms were (alongside tornadoes or 'Fingers of God' as many called them). They basically ran him out of Oklahoma and into Nebraska hoping things there were much better.

They really weren't, but he couldn't be picky. The storms tended to like the southern regions, just past I-80. He couldn't come up with a scientific for why that was, but there it was. Colorado had milder storms from what he heard, though he didn't bother going there; he didn't want to know how many slavers he'd kill.

Despite being August, there were thankfully no Radstorms or Tornadoes in their path, and it was easy walking towards Lincoln.

His cargo was the only thing dragging him down, honestly.

"Stop, stop!"

Right on cue.

"What is it now?" he said in annoyance, turning back to look at the woman. She had long since drawn back her hood since the beginning of their journey, showing the pained expression on her face as she knelt down to gently massage her foot.

"Oh come on, it's been less than 30 minutes since our last break Princess. At this rate we'll get to Chicago by next year!" he exclaimed.

The woman looked murderously at him, removing the bag on her back as she sat herself down, her back leaning into a door of a dilapidated car.

"I have a name, Faust." She said.

Ethan raised a curious eyebrow at her, plopping himself down across from her.

"I tried being nice back in Grand Island. You shoved me off as far as I could remember!" he said.

She pursed her lips, throwing her hair backwards as she took deep breaths to calm herself down. There was silence afterwards, and no one broke the peace as Ethan drank from the water bottle he had brought with them conservatively, wishing to preserve it until they could reach Lincoln to restock.

"It's Alexia."

Ethan turned his head towards her, to find her looking at him through one barely opened eye.

"My name's Alexia."

He smiled at her, scooting closer to her as he offered his hand for her to shake. "Ethan Faust."

They shook hands, before Ethan broke away and stood up.

"I really don't mean to be rude, but we have to move."

"My…my feet hurt." Alexia replied.

Ethan sighed, crouching down as he positioned himself at the bottom of Alexia's feet.

"Let me see." He said.

She raised the pant legs that covered the boots she unlaced soon after. As she removed the pair, Ethan could not help but take note of the obviously smooth skin he could see. She raised her feet up casually; as if she had done this before, letting Ethan take a look at the bottom of the foot.

Her feet were red, indicating at least that she was just sore from all the walking, and had incurred no injuries. He touched her feet, placing them in between his hands as he looked up to the neutral expression on her face.

"Does touching it hurt?" He asked.

She shook her head no.

"Good, then it's not the skin that's the problem. You're just sore from the walking. I guess this is the first you've ever walked this far huh?" He jokingly asked, not expecting her to return a reluctant nod.

He frowned, not sure how someone like her could exist in a harsh environment such as where they were in, where survival was the only motive anyone ever had every day. She could have been a coddled child, or some sort of deity to the many beauty worshipping tribes that existed around Nebraska. He might never know, but one thing was sure; she was soft.

Much like he was when he left the safety of Vault 101.

"Well, I planned to get us halfway to Lincoln an hour or two after dark." He said, letting her put her boots back on. "But I guess you're not going to be able to walk any further if you have sores."

He stood up, putting his hand out to her, propping her to her feet as soon as she took it. "There's a Gas Station a few minutes away from here. I guess you'd want to rest."

She nodded gratefully, the unsure smile she sent his way not quite reaching her eyes as Ethan turned his back on her.

"Let's go then."

The walk to the gas station took no less than 15 minutes, where they settled into soon after their arrival. The sun was in the final stages of setting, painting the unusually clear sky and the clouds in a bright orange glow.

"Beautiful," was the word Alexia used to describe it, and Ethan agreed with her wholeheartedly. They had set their Bed Rolls on the floor of the Convenience Store next to the Gas Pumps of the station, eating the packs Caravan Lunch they had purchased in Grand Island. The assorted quantity of food inside the lunchbox had yet again delivered on its promise of a satisfying meal for Ethan, yet his happiness in the meal had not seemed to be infectious as he looked at Alexia barely eat hers.

"What's wrong?" he asked, right as he took a bite out of his Cram meat.

"Nothing." She replied quietly, although the grumble of her stomach only indicated that she was hungry still, and the food did nothing to placate her hunger.

Ethan stopped nibbling on his meal, slowing his chewing to a crawl as realization struck him.

"You don't like the food don't you?"

She shyly shook her head no, tightening her cloak around her.

Ethan sighed; at least part of his suspicion was true; this was a woman used to living a higher form of living.

"You're hungry. You need the food."

"I don't like it."

He rolled his eyes in exasperation, chugging down the food in his mouth.

"I was…like you once." He said, trying to find a way to connect with her problem.

"You?" she asked disbelievingly, looking at him from head to toe in doubt.

'Bitch.' Ethan quietly thought, crossing his arms above his chest in mild annoyance.

"Yes, I was." He nonetheless continued. "I was a Vault Dweller. Back in D.C. When I first got out, I didn't expect the food to be like…this." He said, lifting the can of Cram up. "Everything tastes metallic, like is was doused in radiation or something. In fact, the only good thing I've tasted so far is Brahmin meat."

At the mention of the meat, Ethan could see the hints of salivation on the edges of Alexia's mouth, the grumbling of her stomach getting more frequent and louder.

He chuckled lightly, spooning a piece of the meat in the Cram can into his mouth. "You just have to live through it for now. We have long days ahead of us; it's not like we can pack Brahmin meat and expect it to be fresh after days."

Well, that wasn't true.

"Yes we could."

And apparently, she knew too.

"Okay, okay. We could. But it'll slow us down. We're trying to get to Chicago fast, before Winter. Or else it'll be hard to walk through inches of snow wouldn't it?" he said, giving her a look of challenge.

She breathed in and out slowly, pursing her lips as she grabbed the can of Pork and Beans, taking a spoonful of it into her mouth.

The shudder that coursed through her body was funny to watch, as Ethan tried not to laugh at the half-coughing, half-choking motions the woman had suddenly done. He patted her on the back, lightly holding her hair back as she vomited the food back out.

'What a waste.' Ethan thought in sadness, 'Guess I'll have to move my roll someplace else too.'

"Oh my, forgive me! I'm sorry!" She said in humiliation and fear, wiping her mouth with the sleeve of her robe, before turning to look with concerned eyes up at Ethan.

"It's…alright I guess? You'll get used to it." Ethan said.

'Well, not anytime soon at least. Food here's a bitch to swallow.'

"You good?" He asked.

"Y-yes. Thank you." She said shyly, avoiding his eyes as she pushed the can of Pork and Beans away. "I think it's best that I just sleep."

Ethan nodded, not bothering to fight with her. Her own hunger tomorrow would make the food taste better anyway; best not to pressure her into it. As she lay down, he moved his Bedroll closer to the door, before cleaning her vomit from the floor as she watched with tired eyes.

"What's in Chicago?" she asked.

"You mean you don't know where you're being sent to?" He asked with a raised eyebrow. "I thought that they'd have told you at least."

She closed her eyes, turning over to deny him a look at her face. "They didn't."

It was obvious she was crying from the soft sniffs he could hear from her form. He didn't know what to do, not having encountered such behavior from anyone before.

Well, not anyone he'd be spending a lot of time with anyway. Everyone else who had cried in front of him were either former slaves he freed or the slavers he personally castrated and-or shot a bullet up their assholes. Fun times.

Those instances were easy to deal with; now though was an entirely new experience for him.

As he placed aside the piece of thick paper he had found to wiper off the vomit from the floor, her silent crying had only grown louder; far too loud for one even as cold hearted as Ethan was at times could ignore.

So he simple sat down on his bedroll, watching her slightly shaking form as he rubbed the stubble on his chin.

"Hey," he said softly, "whatever it is, whatever's going on with you, it'll be okay."

Her crying did not cease, nor did she respond to him or make any movement to indicate that she had heard him.

But he continued still.

"We got off on the wrong foot, but I think you're an okay girl." He said, before mentally slapping himself at what he had just said. "I mean, I mean you're cool. Yeah you're cool." He said, scratching the back of his neck. He coughed lightly to remove some of the awkwardness, and watched in happiness as Alexia's shaking had nearly stopped, the silence between them only breaking with soft sniffs from her part.

"I'll tell you what," he began, "why don't I tell you a little about Chicago?"

"…go on." Her soft reply was.

Ethan smiled, glad that he was making progress at calming the girl down.

"Well, Chicago's pretty cold, and windy. Not much to take shelter in, considering it's one of the most heavily irradiated areas after the bombs fell." He said.

"Go on."

Ethan scrunched up his face in thought, laying down on his back as he gazed at the ceiling of the store.

"The Brotherhood of Steel runs the place,"

"The Brotherhood?!" Alexia suddenly exclaimed, though she had not moved from her position.

"Yeah?" Ethan replied, "Why? You sound concerned."

"They," she began, "they haven't been kind to my people."

Ethan nodded, knowing that she couldn't see her. There was a hint of fear and trepidation in her voice, which could only possibly mean that she truly did fear the Brotherhood.

"Do you mind if I ask why not?" he said, propping himself on his elbows as he awaited her response.

"No." she simply replied, causing Ethan to lie back down on the ground. "But please, tell me more."

"Alright. I know that the Brotherhood there's pretty advanced, and very much unlike the Brotherhood in the Capital of in the Mojave and California. Ghouls, Deathclaws, Super Mutants; they're all accepted."

She did not reply, so he kept talking.

"I haven't been there personally, and all I know is from talking with Caravan owners coming into Nebraska from Boston, who made a pass into Chicago for a reprieve from raiders and gangs. It's pretty peaceful there from what I hear."

"Do you think they'd notice me?" She asked him.

"I don't think so," Ethan replied, turning to look at her back. "Unless you did something really stupid to anger them."

There was no reply to come from her for the rest of the night, not even when Ethan had asked her if she wanted to hear more of what he knew about Chicago. Silence was the only sound both could hear as they quietly drifted into sleep. One dreamed of peace and safety, while the other dreamed again of a certain death.

Cheyenne Mountain Complex, Colorado
November 14, 2282

It was cold, far colder than Maximus was used to; far colder than any of his Legionnaires were used to honestly. As such, the sight of many burning torches around the Legate's camp wasn't that unusual to see. Snow lightly fell from the sky, coating tents and the ground with a thin inch of it, making it difficult to traverse the area.

Nonetheless, the Legionnaires were prepared for anything, their discipline too great to overcome as they held their defensive positions without much complaint despite the cold.

Currently, Maximus had treated himself into a hot bath, submerging himself into the hot waters as he let his men scour the mountain side in search of the entrance to the base he and his brother had found long ago. He didn't even know what took them so long, as the path to it was pretty straightforward. His slaves took care of whatever 'washing' he needed done; even he could act in a disgusting manner like Mehrunes or Nichomedes every once and a while.

All around his bathe, the slaves stood in various states of undress. He had no doubt that they were cold, judging by how their…skin reacted to the Colorado air. Some were new to him, and some were not; he did not take a personal slave like most others do, preferring instead to choose from the local livestock, which was plenty in Denver.

He stood up from his bathe, exiting it as the women around him wiped him dry, not allowing him to go nude in the Colorado air for long as they brought him his robes; the standard clothing for the Legion in cold temperatures. They clothed his upper body in the red fabric, before doing the same for his legs.

"Be careful with that you disgusting creature." He intoned, snatching away his armor from the hands a slave that had nearly dropped it.

"Leave me." He told them as soon as he was clothed, his outfit complete with the matte black of his armor.

His slaves ran out of his tent, dressed in nothing but thin fabrics. Knowing his own men, he did not have to doubt that they would soon be having their way with the profligates.

Much time had passed before Maximus thought it prudent to check up on the process of his men before a Cursor, a messenger, entered his tent.

"Ave, Legate Maximus." He said, showing off a crisp salute.

"Ave, Cursor. What news do you have?" he asked, taking a seat beside his work table.

"Centurion Aerys reports that the facility has been found." The messenger said, as faint lines of water began to trail down his head from the small patches of on his brown hair. "He says they are ready to receive you, Legate."

Maximus nodded, standing up. "Alright. Head to Decanus Rhaegar, and have him fetch me; prepared to take a journey to the facility. You shall be our guide, Cursor."

"At once, Legate! Salve!"

"Salve!"

It did not take long for the Decanus to come, with a group of ten Legionnaires behind him, ready to escort him to the entrance of the Complex. The long walk barely bothered anyone, and neither did the cold air or snow. The anticipation of finding technology had hardened them to the weather, and although it sounded sacrilegious for many including most of the men guarding the Legate, their wish to see the Legion succeed was greater than their desire to follow their long held beliefs.

Soon, they passed the couple of hundred men that Centurion Aerys had brought with him on the expedition, the banner of the Legion proudly displayed in the makeshift camp they had made just at the mouth of a tunnel.

The words 'CHEYENNE MOUNTAIN COMPLEX' were proudly displayed, and Maximus drank the sight in, already knowing what he would find inside.

"Ave, Legate."

He turned his head, seeing the saluting form of Aerys, a salute he returned quickly. "Centurion." He intoned. "I see you've been busy."

"And I hear you've locked yourself up with your whores." The dark skinned man replied cheekily.

Maximus lightly chuckled, turning his back on him to gaze at the dark tunnel ahead of them.

"Exciting isn't it?" Maximus asked.

Aerys moved to stand beside him, crossing his arms over his chest as he too, gazed intently into the dark.

"I fear more for what we might unleash into the world."

Maximus knitted his eyebrows together, grasping his friend by the shoulder. "I already know what we'll find inside, Aerys. Soon, it'll be them that would fear us."

Aerys, still unsure and a little bit daunted from the task that was seemingly laid out in front of him, gestured for the Legate to walk with him into the tunnel.

"Shall we?" he asked.

Maximus nodded with a smile, and they walked in, followed by both of their personal guard. The tunnel was dark, needing the aid of a Legionnaire to run ahead of them, to light their way. The tunnel had long since collapsed in on itself, leaving only little pathways the Legionnaires could squeeze through to reach the end, where their ultimate prize lay.

Aerys had not bothered to ask what was there, holding only disinterest and concern for whatever the Legion might become because of these…findings.

Soon, their troop had come to a halt at Maximus' order, and Aerys could see a happy smile adorn his friend's face. They had reached the entrance, where various automatons, seemingly dead, lay around in the open.

"Aerys, have a Vexillarius plant the banner of the Legion outside the tunnel entrance, and send a runner the Imperator, tell him that we've found it and shall be marching south in a few days' time." He commanded, a smile still on his face as he knelt down, grabbing a black and burnt piece of metal that had obviously once been part of an intact Vault Door long ago.

He wiped the top of it, removing the soot and dust that had gathered on it in the years since this place's discovery.

Yellow numbers stared back at him, and Maximus felt a thrill course up his spine at the thought of what the Legion could achieve with this.

The number read:

0

Vault 0.

August 16, 2282
I-80 Heading East, Nebraska

He did not know what it was that awoke him; only that it could not have been good. He jolted upwards, standing on his feet as he surveyed his dark surroundings, carefully seeking out his shotgun with his free hand.

"Alexia," he whispered. "Wake up!"

She did not move, even as he grabbed his shotgun and knelt down next to her, lightly shaking her.

"Wake up!" he commanded.

She groaned in retaliation, pushing his hand away.

"Something's outside." He said.

And it was true, the faint sounds of footsteps could be heard circling the store, but the windows offered little in the way of letting him see the men who were undoubtedly circling the small store.

"I don't hear anything." She mumbled, her eyes still closed.

"Stand up, and hurry!" he commanded, pushing her hard.

She finally huffed, rubbing her eyes as she slowly got up.

'I don't have time for this shit.' He thought, strapping his shotgun over his shoulder as he grabbed her by the waist, dragging her into the backroom of the store as he held her mouth to silence her. He set her down in a corner, his hand still over her mouth.

"Shout and we die." He whispered, "Trust me; there's someone, or something, outside. Scream and they go in here. I don't want to risk it being a Deathclaw." He said with finality, unslinging his shotgun as he removed his hand from her mouth.

She held a confused and concerned look on her face, and the beginnings of what could only have been fear entered her eyes.

"Stay here," he commanded, "I'll take care of it."

"Wait, no! No! Stay!" She whispered back.

He shrugged her hands off of him, cocking his shotgun as he tried to make his way to a window, ducking low to avoid being seen. The footsteps were still there, and from how light they were and how many he could hear, there were roughly more than five men outside, wearing little to no armor at all.

'Slavers.' He thought, knowing that most of the slavers in these parts wore little armor in the style of Caesar's Legion. 'Shit, they must have had runner. Saw us walk in…they want the girl.'

He readied his shotgun, slightly rising from his position to take a peek at the world outside.

'Can't see anything!' he thought.

It was dark, and nothing he could see outside suggested that there was even anyone surrounding the Gas Station to catch just one girl. 'Well, slaving's funny like that Ethan.'

He crouched low again, intent on transferring to another window to try his luck there when suddenly the front door to the store blew in, momentarily stunning him.

BOOM! It sounded, knocking Ethan off his feet and flat on his back. Years of experience taught him to get up quickly, and he did so, diving into the back of some shelves to avoid the rain of pistol fire that peppered where he had lain down earlier.

Quickly thinking on his feet, he primed a grenade from his belt, rolling it towards the door. Instead of rolling outside, just as he had intended, it stopped short of his goal, exploding in a brief flash of gold.

'God damn it, bad throw!' he berated himself.

The explosion blew a good sized portion of the front section of the store, and he had no doubt that he had injured several men outside. Not enough.

"Hey, hey! Alright you have bite!" Someone yelled from outside. "We just want the girl! Give the meat to us and I'll forgive you for blowing my boys' faces off!"

"What makes you think it's not the girl who's fighting?" He shouted back in jest, trying to buy some time as he tried to come up with an escape plan.

He couldn't think of any.

'Fuck it all to hell, of all the places to get ambushed in.'

"Well, you know how to lob a grenade for one!"

'Oh, cause I was lucky when I blew up your pals?'

"Good one! Ha!" he shouted back, not really able to come up with anything witty to shoot back.

"So…the girl!"

"How about caps instead?" he screamed back.

"How about I shove my rifle up your ass, take the girl and the caps?"

Ethan bit his lower lip in annoyance, gripping his shotgun tightly.

"I think I'll ah…I'll settle for kicking your asses instead, save the girl and fuck someone in a whorehouse in Lincoln. Actually, maybe I'll as the girl if she'll share a bed with me. She's cute."

A rusty can hit him in the head, and he turned to look at Alexia's murderous face peeping from the corner of a doorway. He mouthed 'what' to her angry expression, before he motioned for her to get back deeper into the backroom.

"How you proposing to do that, son?"

"Well, I figure there's a dozen of you out there. I have about…seven clips for my handgun and more than ten shells for my shotgun. I think I have a bullet with each of your names written on it. You wanna play target practice?"

A slaver actually managed to find the courage to walk straight up the front, a fact that Ethan quickly took advantage of as he fired his shotgun. The man's head burst into a mist, splattering his grey matter and pieces of his skull all over their still laid bedrolls.

'There goes my savings.'

"Whoops, my finger slipped." He shouted back, although the silence he got from the man he was bantering with was pretty worrying.

"I'll give you to the count of three to give up." The man finally said.

'Okay, okay. Plan A…Grenades right!'

He unclipped the two remaining grenades he had, rolling an unprimed one towards the front, where he could easily shoot it in case they grow heads and charge head on into the store before priming one, clenching it in his fists so that it would not explode prematurely. He readied his pistol, setting his shotgun to the ground as he waited for the man to begin counting.

"1!"

'Okay, here goes.'

"2!"

"3!"

Much to his dismay, the raiders did try charging from the front, with three men entering. He fired his pistol, one eye closed as he aimed for the small grenade. The resulting explosion blew all three men off their feet (well, more like they didn't have any feet…hands), and tearing a new hole into the corner of the front part of the shop.

The four windows of the shop suddenly broke, and Ethan watched with disbelief as four men burst through each. A bullet slammed into his leg, and all Ethan could do was fall to his good leg as he threw the primed grenade in his hands wildly. It rolled, gravitating towards one of the men who jumped through the window, and the man dived away in an attempt to avoid it.

The resulting explosion reduced his feet into nothing but bloody stumps, just as a man ran towards Ethan, kicking him in the face.

He could feel the copper taste in his mouth as he rolled to safety, his thigh thumping in pain. 'Fuck you!' he thought, slamming his good knee into the man's chest just as he charged him. He pushed him away, shoving his pistol underneath the man's chin as he pulled the trigger back, the expelled bullet slamming right into his skull, exiting from the top.

"YOU FUCKER!" he heard one of them yell, and the resulting hit to the back of his head that sent him crashing into a shelf in a dazed fashion. He toppled down alongside it, and the same slaver sent a foot into his face.

Another kick was delivered, this time to his torso, and he was actually surprised his ribs didn't break from the force.

More slavers entered through the front, four from what he could tell, and from then on knew he was in trouble. He blocked the next kick with his right hand, pulling it upwards before driving his fist into the man's nether regions.

He didn't doubt he wouldn't be siring any children soon.

The man doubled over in pain, as Ethan delivered a punch into the back of his beck, no doubt breaking it.

He stood up, pain coursing over him as he dived away from a pistol shot from one of the slavers that had entered. He used the body of the slaver he had broken the neck of, using it as a cover the others shot at him.

No bullet touched him.

He blindly fumbled for anything to latch on to, eventually grasping a machete one of the dead slavers had dropped for sure.

"Kill him!" he heard someone yell.

He threw the machete in the general direction of where the gunshots were coming from, and the momentary pause in firing gave him a chance to stand and charge the large, hulking man. He slammed him down into the floor, the pistol in his hands sliding across the floor.

"Suck it!" Ethan screamed, punching the man right across the cheek, before diving for the discarded weapon.

A slaver kicked it away just in time, and as Ethan looked up at him, the butt of a rifle came crashing down.

He moved his head away, barely missing the butt before trying to sweep the man's feet from under him. The other raider kicked his leg wound, and he screamed out in pain as the man straddled him.

Punch after punch after punch slammed into his face, forming cuts along the bottom of his eyes and cheek.

"That's enough, Marv."

The fists crashed into his face anyway. Ethan felt and heard the telltale signs of a struggle, and figured that the other slavers must have pulled the one that had straddled him away.

"That's enough, I said!"

"He killed Oscar! He killed my brother!"

"We'll kill him later! We have fun with the girl first."

Ethan felt his arms forced up above his head, as he was dragged across the floor. He was turned over; laying him down on his stomach as his head was forced sideways, giving him a view of the back room's door, the large raider smashing it open.

"No…" he weakly said, not having enough energy to fight back at the slaver tying his hands behind his back.

He tried to struggle, squirming under the firm grasp of the slaver.

"Hold still you little shit!"

"Fuck you!" he blurted out, blood and spit gurgling in his mouth.

"Laugh now bitch. Let's see who's laughing when I fuck that sweet pussy you brought around with you. HA HA HA!"

"No!" Ethan managed to gurgle out.

He watched in anger as the three slavers entered the backroom, eliciting loud shouts of fear from Alexia.

'No.'

He spotted the machete he had thrown earlier, rolling over to it as he heard struggling from the back room.

'Come on! Shit!'

He sat up, pushing his hands towards the machete as he grasped it by the blade with his hands tied behind his back.

"Stop! Please no!"

'Fuck! Shit! Faster, Ethan!'

He rubbed the thin ropes against the dull blade, faster and faster as Alexia's screams for help grew louder.

"Ethan! Ethan, help!"

'I'm coming hang on!'

As the last of the ropes finally separated, he stood up quickly, grabbing the slaver's discarded pistol and the machete from the floor as he dragged himself to the back room, just as 'Marv' walked out.

With a smile on his face, he slammed the machete into his stomach, pushing it sideways and nearly cutting the thin man in half.

In one quick succession, he trained the pistol at the leading slaver, a bullet slamming into the back of the man's head before stabbing the remaining larger slaver through the back. He gurgled in his blood, but seemed to stay alive, eliciting a primal scream from Ethan as he pulled the machete back before stabbing it through the man's neck.

"FUCK YOU!" he screamed out, pulling the dead man's corpse backwards, sending it crashing down into 'Marv's' body.

Alexia lay crying in the corner, desperately wrapping what remained of her robe over her exposed front. Tears trailed down her cheeks, as the injured Ethan walked closer to her. He knelt down slowly beside her, blood drenching everything that could be seen on him.

"Are you okay?" he asked, lifting a hand to lightly touch her shoulder.

She shied away from his touch as if it burned, before her eyes turned to look at him. In an instant she latched on to him, crying into the side of his face.

Throughout the rest of the night, tired and injured as he was, Ethan did nothing but console the woman, who could do nothing but hug him tightly.

But in the back of his mind all night, a thought bothered him as he lay there clutching the woman close to him. He could think of little else but what he had seen before she had latched on to him; before she had collapsed in hysteric cries.

His thoughts could not move on to anything else, going back time and again to the small gold coin she wore like a necklace around her neck.

Caesar's Mark.