Author's Note: Lord Almighty did I have trouble with this one. But here it is! A few things: One, May 28th was the one year anniversary of this going online. Happy birthday fic! *confetti*. Two, I hit 200 reviews. NEATO. Three, THANK YOU guys for being patient and for reading and for being amazing. :) And thank you to my beta who drops whatever he's doing to read whatever I throw at him. ^-^ Y'all are the tops!

Also, I've asked a few people this already, but as a general question, if I had a um. Prequel of sorts. Written. Of Riley and Noah's last mission gone awry and their time spent in Cottonwood up until her escape. Who would read that? Just curious.

The journey back was strangely somber. The train tunnel might have accounted for some of that. The dank and dark of it, one path with no alternate routes. Just an endless track with little lighting and no end in sight. Nobody talked, and in the silence and absence of fear and stress and adrenaline, Riley had time to think clearly.

Two years ago, you could have asked anyone if Riley thought about the consequences of her actions and they would have answered with a big, fat, resounding 'no'. She jumped into situations as they came, made decisions at the drop of a hat, and didn't consult anyone about anything. Sure, she still did all that, but things had changed since then. She had changed. She tried to make decisions more carefully. She looked to others for what they wanted, not just herself. She had learned that actions could carry significance later on. A word could break a friendship, ignoring orders could kill your partner, doing nothing could break your spirit.

But what about a secret? What would the consequences be for saying nothing? On the other hand, what good could come from saying something now?

Would he even care? It wasn't like he could change the past. He'd pulled that trigger and she took the opportunity and ran. Knowing what she knew wouldn't change what happened at Cottonwood. The change that she feared, however, was in how he saw her.

They were back in the bunker when she cornered Dean. The others were reorganising their packs. Gold and armour and guns were being laid out on the floor while Cass divvied everything up so no one was carrying more than the others. She was largely in the way anyway, and found the ghoul back down the stairs in what looked like living quarters, picking through a few books.

"Find something interesting?" she said by way of greeting. Dean snorted, snapping the book shut in his hands and sending up a puff of dust.

"Textbooks," he said, in the same tone one usually reserved for radroaches. He turned slowly, taking in the rest of the room, which was pretty much more textbooks and scattered papers. A terminal hummed in the corner. "These… what was it? Brotherhood? Don't seem too enlightened when it comes to the arts."

"Not really," she shrugged. "Though you'd have to ask Veronica that."

He made a noncommittal noise and then turned to face her. "So," he drawled. "I take it you have something to say?"

"Ask," she corrected. "A few things. Where will you go?"

"I don't know," he admitted. "But don't think for a second that I'm joining up with your little posse."

She smiled softly. "I doubted that."

"Where do you suggest I go?"

"Well," she said. "There's New Vegas, of course. Or Reno. Reno's a little more cutthroat. It's more civilised back out West in California. NCR territory. There's cities, people, a government."

"A government," he repeated, in the same tone that he used for the textbooks. "We finally get rid of them all and then you people just bring them back again."

"I'd think you'd make a great politician," she told him. "You're a charismatic liar."

He eyed her. "I'm not sure if you're trying to compliment me here or not."

"Go with compliment," she nodded. "Because I need to ask advice and if you take it as an insult you'll give me bad advice."

"Advice?" He laughed. "From me? What could I possibly know more about this world than you? You live in it."

"Uh. Well. You know about… lying, for starters."

He said nothing, his smile fading but not quite leaving altogether. He stared at her, intrigued, and she took a deep breath.

"Secrets, actually," she blurted. "You lied to Sinclair, for months, I think, and… he never, suspected anything?"

"No," he said slowly. "He was a bit dense, you know, when it came to people. Plus I had Vera to distract him."

"So you two were keeping secrets from him," she waited until he nodded. "And how did—"

"Vera was an actress," he cut her off as he began walking around the room. "It was her job to lie. That's all actors are, you know. Professional liars." He stopped in front of the vending machine, identical to the ones scattered around the Villa. A few chips lay scattered on the floor. "Did he drag this all the way here? Through that tunnel? The same one we just came out of?"

She blinked. "Um."

"Huh. Well. You have to give the man a little credit for pure determination."

"I guess," she sighed. "You wanna go unkill him and let him know?"

He turned his head slowly to look at her. "Now you're being childish. Why do you want to know about Vera and me, anyway?"

"Not—," she risked a glance at the door, then stepped forward, lowering her voice. "I just… how— how did you keep it a secret for so long?"

His lip curled up at one side. "I think I'm beginning to understand."

She rolled her eyes. She didn't want questions. "No. Just—"

"So what changed I wonder," he mused aloud. "What happened in the Madre? What secret did you unearth and who are you keeping it from?"

Her eyes narrowed. "That's none of your business."

"You're right," he smiled. "It's not. But it's fun to guess, eh?"

She took a steadying breath. "Are you going to answer me or not?"

"I don't need to," he shrugged, moving towards her. "You already know how."

"Yeah, but—"

"Let me spell it out for you. Remember how the collars were linked?" he asked. She blinked.

"Wh—"

"Remember how you didn't tell me they were?" he cocked a brow.

"Well, I—"

He stopped right next to her on his way to the door, his voice low. "The secret to keeping secrets, my dear, is to not talk about them."

He was gone before she could stop him.

Freeside hadn't changed.

She didn't know what she expected to change in the week they'd been gone, but it felt like maybe something should have, if only to recognise the passing of time so she could feel like their absence was missed somehow. New graffiti maybe, or a show of change in the crops, a new hobo stalking in the alleys.

But there was no new graffiti, the crops still looked like shit, and the hobos had all apparently cleared out from the entrance to the city once word of Riley's return reached them. Or at least that's what she told herself anyway.

It was all very surreal, and she had to keep mentally kicking herself as they walked through the city gates, telling herself that this was real. The sun on her face, the heat on her neck, the sand in her boots. All real. The Sierra Madre was behind them and she had unfinished business to attend to.

"Never thought I'd find myself glad to see this shithole," Cass muttered. The gates were being held open, a steady stream of travellers entering the city in twos and threes. A caravan must have passed through, and a line-up was forming for the Kings' escort service. They moved to the side as the crowd grew, and Riley's eyes lit up as she spotted Tanner through the throng. She lifted a hand, waving until he noticed her. People crowded around her.

"Who's that?" Veronica asked.

"Tanner," Riley explained. "The King who helped me out when I got here."

"Uh," said Veronica. "He doesn't look too happy to see you."

She was right. Tanner's smile was gone, his expression falling flat as he stared at her. That… probably wasn't good. The idea that she might not be welcome hadn't occurred to her, and she dropped her hand hastily, turned on her heel and ploughed through the crowd in an effort to get away. As she pushed past the last dust-covered traveller, she grimaced as a familiar jacket and pair of ruined jeans stepped in her path.

"Going somewhere?" Tanner cocked a brow. She looked around for her friends, noticing with a grim acceptance that in slipping through the crowd she lost them somewhere. Shit.

"Wrangler," Riley forced a smile. "If you'll excuse me—" she tried sidestepping him, making a face as he hauled her up short with a hand on her arm. Men were so grabby.

"Hang on there, lady," he yanked her back and dragged her into an alley. It didn't escape her notice that he omitted the 'pretty' part of his nickname for her as she managed to free herself from his grip. She rubbed at her arm, glaring at him.

"You have five seconds to explain why you—"

Her words were cut off, she backed up against the wall as Tanner moved in close, his eyes cold and his mouth pulled back into a scowl. She had a ridiculous thought that he'd been taking classes from Boone. Not many people could pull off a look that mean, and now she knew two of them. Great.

"I'm not the one who has to do the explaining. You got a real funny way of doing favours for people, you know that?" He snapped. Her eyes rounded as the source of his anger began to dawn on her.

"Wait," she held up her hands. "No. Listen. You—"

"I put my reputation on the line for you," he snarled. "Got you an in with the King, got you a gig to get you in his good graces."

"You bailed on me in the middle of that meeting!" she retorted, indignant.

"I had a shift to cover," he slapped his hand on the brick next to her. "Jesus, woman. Don't turn this around on me. I was on break when I found you. I used my free time to help you out and what happened? Huh? What?" He took a step back, hands on his hips in a stance that she found distinctly parental. She was being scolded and the worst thing was she wanted to cringe at having disappoint him. He'd helped her out without asking for anything in return. He didn't have to do that, and when it came time for her to pay back she didn't follow through.

"I'll tell you what," he went on before she could answer. "The King gave you a job, and he handed you two hundred caps to do that job. You have any idea what two hundred caps can do for people around here? And next thing I know I hear you left town with that money and ran off to help the NCR."

She pressed a hand to her head. He had to understand she didn't mean to be gone this long. She took a breath. "I didn't steal the money, Tanner. I was only going to be gone two days. I—"

"That two days sure didn't take long to turn into a week, though, did they? Didn't give a shit about what my boys and I were going through, did you? Didn't care that you took money from the King and gave nothing in return." He lifted a finger, pointing at the crowd that didn't look to be shrinking at all. "You see them folk? They ain't hiring Kings, sweetheart."

"You— what?" Her frustration died instantly and her head whipped around. He was right. The crowd stood close together, clamouring with raised bags of caps, some held NCR bills. One man stood in the midst of everything, wearing metal armour and a look of smug satisfaction as a group of King escorts stood on the sidelines, ignored.

"He's taking the highest bidder," Tanner said in her ear. "Two hundred ain't gonna cut it for those folk anymore."

"You charge a hundred," she sputtered. "Why would they—"

"That's what you were supposed to find out."

Shit. The sinking feeling in her stomach grew as she watched the crowd. She had to do this. It didn't matter how much she wanted to rest, or how far she walked, or that she'd almost died about twenty times over in the last five days. None of that changed the fact that they needed her help and she owed the man standing next to her. It wasn't even that she felt guilty over leaving, because at the time, that was simply the right thing to do. It just so happened that so was this.

"How much business is he taking?" She asked quietly. There was a moment of silence as Tanner considered her, gauging her sincerity, her expression, until finally he sighed.

"Nearly all of it," he leaned against the wall across from her, subdued. "Some of our boys haven't landed a gig in weeks since he set up shop."

She nodded. "And following him gets you—?"

"Sore feet and no answers," he smoothed a hand along the side of his styled hair, brushing back strays. "Nothing happens. Just a regular escort, ain't no different than what we give. I'm thinking he knows we're on to him and changes his routine if we follow."

She inclined her head, still watching as the man took bids for his services. "Probably. Not exactly known for your subtlety. He probably smells the hair grease a mile away."

He glared at her. "You're real funny for a woman who still hasn't told me where she was. Nelson ain't but a day's walk from here."

So he heard about that.

"And I'll explain it to you later," she sighed. "You won't listen to me now and I have work to do. Give me a few hours." She lifted a single brow as he looked ready to argue. "Later," she said. "Meet us at the Wrangler at five. I'll tell you everything." She pushed off from the wall and left him, her frown deepening as Boone appeared on her right.

"Problems?" He asked. A glance behind her showed Cass and Veronica following closely.

"When isn't there a problem?" She muttered. She led them down a side street, noting with some grimness the glares that her and Boone were receiving. She'd have to fix that.

"What's the deal?" Cass asked once she stopped. Riley sighed and folded her hands behind her.

"I have a mess to clean up. You're welcome to go on ahead while I deal with it. I imagine you have better things to do anyway."

Cass let her bag slide off her shoulder. It hit the cement with a 'whump' and the redhead's expression looked none too impressed.

"Come again?"

"The gold, Cass," Riley explained. "We need buyers. You said you had contacts."

"Oh. Well, yeah. Suppose I do. That don't mean I want to haul around two hundred pounds of gold," she rested one fist on her hip, cocking it to the side. "One, that's too fucking heavy. And two, I might as well paint a fucking bullseye on my forehead. You'll find me in the dumpster and y'know what? I don't feel like dying today."

"I'll go with her," Veronica offered. "We should stop at the Followers when we're done. Get your arm looked at."

Cass looked incredulous. "Now what—" her eyes narrowed. "My arm is fine. It was healed up by the time we made it into that damn Casino. I don't need no doctors poking at me again."

Veronica lifted her hands. "Just a check-up. What if you got some of the Cloud in it and you mutate into a horrible rasping monster with no fashion sense?"

Cass didn't look convinced, but Riley found herself staring at Veronica. She sounded… herself again. She'd been quiet the entire trip back, not saying much more beyond monosyllabic words when addressed. Riley figured that once Dean left their company, she'd perk up again, but it had taken until arriving back in Freeside for her to come out of her shell. It was a start.

"It would make me feel better?" Veronica tried.

Cass eyed her a long moment before her shoulders dipped just a little. "Fine."

Veronica smiled. Cass scowled and turned to Riley.

"And what will you two be off doing while we're doing this I wonder?"

In answer, Riley held her bag out to Boone without looking at him. "He's going with you. I'm doing this one solo."

"Say again?" Cass asked. Boone took her bag silently, a slight frown on his face while Riley pulled her sidearm and checked her stock of ammo.

"Solo," she repeated, holstering the gun again. "It's a simple job, and I'll attract less attention if I work alone. I'll meet you guys at the Mormon Fort once I'm done. Okay?" She turned almost dismissively, craning her neck to look down the street while her companions stood there silently. Finally, Cass swore under her breath.

"Alright," she said. "Fine. Happy hunting."