A/n: Sorry for the delay in updates! I've been extremely busy getting my portfolio ready for submission to concentration, as well as having pet health issues.
Vulpes drifted in and out of sleep for days on end, bedridden and in constant pain. Despite his lover's calm and the doctor's reassurances, Marcus worried constantly about Vulpes' recovery.
He reached down to his leg and attempted to scratch an itch hidden beneath the legs of his pants, growling when he failed to relieve it. The damned things were uncomfortable, always binding at the worst places. But, at least he didn't have Crassius' problem. His height made the pants extra short, and he had to tuck them into the tops of his boots. He had to admit, though, that the dark tan pants and skin-tight white shirt looked good on him, making Marcus want to run his hands all over the tight material. Regardless, he couldn't do anything about that, not when he didn't know where these dissolute stood on their brand of relationship. They had to tread carefully, lest they be thrown out.
Veronica walked into the room with what appeared to be cleaned laundry in her hands.
"It took a lot of work," she announced, "but I got the blood out of the capes."
Marcus accepted the bundles of material from the short woman. She had done this without being asked to do so, and it wasn't often that a woman did. Perhaps, the women across the river were different.
"Thanks," he nodded.
"Oh, it's nothing," she chuckled, "was going to go crazy if I didn't do something."
He knew the feeling all too well, and if it hadn't been for Arcade's insistence, Marcus would be in the room with Vulpes, hovering almost as close as the Courier was. Initially, he had been suspicious that the doctor didn't want all of them to be with Vulpes, yet allowed the Courier to stay. But upon learning that the room in which Vulpes recovered was her bedroom, Marcus supposed it made sense. It was kind, however, that Six allowed them to sleep on the floor there. He outright refused to take the couch from her, the ruler of New Vegas.
He felt the impulse in his legs to get up and check on Vulpes, but stopped when Crassius nudged him with his knee. The couch that they occupied was just for them, with everyone insisting that they needed to be comfortable after their cross-desert trek carrying an injured man. It was nice; the soft cushions helped soothe his sore muscles. But it felt like such an unnecessary luxury, especially when they had just done what they were supposed to. Even Canyon Runner insisted that they take the couch.
Marcus glanced over at Crassius. Their eyes met quickly as they shared a secret look. Crassius' eyes flickered over his body, and he suppressed a shiver. He just needed ten minutes alone with him– another appreciative look; five minutes, maybe three – and he would be set for a little while. Marcus looked at him again, and then noticed something that he hadn't seen before.
"Being out in the sun like that," he noted, "and you freckled like a girl."
The teasing earned him a blush and an indignant gasp from Crassius. Needling him was easy, when one knew exactly what to say. It didn't take much more than a veiled mention that Crassius was the more feminine party out of the two and he would be red within seconds. Marcus knew he was treading on thin ice in regards to their secret, but he couldn't help it.
"Do you have a problem with gingers?" Cass drawled. She stood from her chair and sauntered over to the couch, a bottle of unnamed dissolute drink hanging precariously from her fingers.
In the next instant, the woman sat in Crassius' lap and twisted around to straddle his waist.
"You should know," she smiled, "redheads are wild as hell."
Marcus blinked in confusion. Was she hitting on both of them at the same time?
A chuckle sounded in the doorway, and Marcus turned to see Vulpes leaning on the Courier's arm. Vulpes was standing much earlier than he should have been able to, and for a moment, it felt like a miracle. But there was something strange about his eyes, something unnatural and somewhat disturbing. It had to be the dissolute medication.
Six led him to a chair and Vulpes straddled it in order to keep his back from making contact. He turned his eyes to the couch and smirked.
"Miss Cassidy," he said, "you'd get more wood from a table."
In a second, the woman turned from lusty to enraged as she whirled around to face Vulpes.
"What the fuck's that supposed to mean?" she growled. Her fist tightened around the bottle in her hand.
Vulpes looked past her and gave Crassius a slight nod.
"Don't want to out you," he shrugged, "but you look uncomfortable."
Cass blinked then turned to look at Crassius. Swearing, she hastily stood from the couch, took a long draught from the bottle, and exhaled loudly after swallowing. Marcus glanced around in confusion. What did 'out' mean?
"So," she sighed, "the rumors about the Legion were true."
"What rumors?" Canyon Runner asked.
"You're queers," Cass replied.
While Canyon Runner protested loudly, Marcus felt his stomach clench. They knew, and he and Crassius were sure to be thrown out.
"Well," Arcade smiled, "you'll be happy to know that people don't get executed for being homosexual here."
Marcus let out the breath he had been holding.
"So, they just let people walk around like that?" he asked.
The doctor frowned and pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose.
"Yes," he clipped, "In fact, I walk around like that every day."
In the corner, Veronica chimed in with a quick 'me too' and Marcus sighed in relief. Here, he could do as he wished, free of the fear of death. The realization, however, brought a small amount of unreasonable anxiety. What was he going to do now?
The question was answered for him as Crassius scooted closer to him on the couch and wrapped his arm around his shoulder. They would figure out what to do together.
Canyon Runner watched as Arcade, Six, and Veronica asked as many questions as they could about the praetorians' relationship; when they met, were they in love, when did they know they were in love, and all other sorts of details. For his part, Canyon Runner stayed silent, thinking on where life had led him in the past two weeks. He wondered where he would have been had he not been born into the Legion. This thought was quickly dismissed; however, as he realized that without the Legion, he wouldn't have existed. Marcus and Crassius wouldn't have either.
The questions died down until Canyon Runner could ask one that had been weighing on his mind. Vulpes caught his eye and waited expectantly, as if he knew he wanted to speak.
"And you?" Canyon Runner asked him.
Vulpes lifted an eyebrow in confusion.
"And what?" he asked.
"Are you an equal opportunity player?" Cassidy asked, finishing Canyon Runner's question for him.
Vulpes exhaled and stared at the floor. Apparently, the question caught him off guard.
"I don't even know anymore," he mumbled.
"Just do whatever feels right," Cassidy declared, "that's what I do."
"Yeah," Six added, "me too."
Vulpes stared at the Courier in shock and hurt. In the corner, Arcade cleared his throat.
"I don't think we're talking about the same thing," he chuckled.
Six gave the doctor a confused look that instantly set Vulpes at ease. Either this woman was stupid, or incredibly innocent. Canyon Runner liked to think the later; she had bested the Legion on her own, after all.
Cassidy snorted and took a huge gulp of her drink, emptying the bottle and smacking her lips. She grumbled about needing more and began to search through the cupboards. Watching her gave Canyon Runner another question – hopefully, an inoffensive one, this time.
"So, why do you drink that?" he asked.
The redhead's grin was worth it. She didn't smile often in conversation, but when she did, it was nice.
"I like it," she replied, "want to try some?"
Cassidy held out a bottle of light amber liquid, and Canyon Runner stared at in horror. He couldn't drink that. Vulpes stared directly at him, his expression unreadable. He was their leader now, and Canyon Runner was obligated to ask his permission for anything outside of his regular existence.
"I wouldn't drink that," Vulpes frowned, "what's in that bottle is for people who will put anything in their mouths."
Veronica's face turned red as she tried to breathe in between laughs while Arcade simply shook his head. Canyon Runner couldn't help but be disappointed at the amount of evidence that suggested that Cassidy was a woman of loose morals. It was always the attractive women that came into the camp that had diseases and the like; the whole thing was a waste of a beautiful woman.
"Tell ya what," Cassidy chuckled, "we'll go up to the cocktail lounge and find some rum. Rum's the gateway booze anyway."
Vulpes shrugged and said that he didn't care what they did. This sealed Canyon Runner's fate, and he found himself being dragged against his will into the elevator. He hadn't agreed to drinking any alcohol.
The door to the device closed shut, and Canyon Runner realized that there was no escape. After all, he didn't know how to work the contraption and order it back down. The woman who conspired against him crossed her arms and waited as the elevator took them to their destination. Were all elevator rides this awkward?
"So," she murmured, "What the hell happened to Fox, I mean, Vulpes?"
He shook his head, unwilling to answer the question.
"I wasn't told," Canyon Runner replied.
Cassidy snorted and shifted her weight to the other foot. The elevator opened, and she stepped out into a large room that appeared to once be an eating place of sorts. Now, it was clearly a plant nursery.
"Let me rephrase that," she countered, "What do you think happened? It's obvious that he's been raped or something."
He could not tell her. Canyon Runner couldn't betray the trust of such a great man. As Cassidy rooted around in the cupboards and placed bottles on the counter, he said nothing.
"That bad?" she grunted, grabbing a few of the bottles.
Canyon Runner gave her a quick nod; it was all she was going to get from him. They stepped back into the elevator, and the woman didn't press the issue. He appreciated her respect; it was something that he hadn't expected from such an uncouth woman.
The elevator door opened and they stepped out. As Canyon Runner followed Cassidy to the kitchen, his stomach began to clench. They weren't really going to make him drink alcohol, right?
His worst fears were realized when Cassidy handed one of the bottles to Vulpes for his approval. Vulpes turned it in his hand to read the label, unscrewed the top, and, much to the nearby doctor's chagrin, took a small sip of the liquid. While Arcade frantically told him about the dangers of mixing alcohol and med-x, Vulpes gave a curt nod and handed the bottle back to Cassidy.
Canyon Runner watched the caravaner search through the cupboards for glasses then grab a set of Nuka-colas from the nearby refrigerator. She poured a certain quantity of both into each glass, stirred it with the blade of a butter knife, and brought one of the drinks over to him. Canyon Runner didn't want to do so much as hold the glass, but it would be rude not to take it.
Cass quickly instructed him that he was to not smell the drink, and was to swallow each sip without rolling it around in his mouth. He was to then exhale after swallowing, because it was a stiff drink and he had no experience with alcohol.
So, he did as he was told, noting Vulpes' bemused expression by looking over the rim of the glass. Liquid slid into his mouth, tasting somewhat like the cola had gone bad. Quickly, he remembered that he should swallow it fast, and did so, but it was too late. The drink sent him sputtering as he winced and tried to cough the taste out of his mouth. As everyone laughed, the praetorians looked on in horror.
"I didn't even want this!" Canyon Runner protested.
"Then why did you do it?" Vulpes asked, chuckling.
"Because I do what I'm told," he frowned, looking at the floor.
Canyon Runner expected approval. He expected to be told that was the right thing, or to at least get a small nod. But Vulpes gave him a disappointed look and shook his head.
"You had better learn to think for yourself," He said, "you have the capacity to do it."
He did think for himself, at least, within reason of what he was told. But that meant that he didn't think for himself, and Canyon Runner was back at the start again.
"Speaking of drinking," Vulpes blinked, "What happened to Boone?"
The room took on a somber mood as the Courier and her friends frowned and shook their heads. Canyon Runner wasn't sure what was going on; someone must have died.
"Ran off," Six mumbled, "Didn't like Yes Man and the plans. He didn't want to be my friend."
Arcade shook his head.
"Just because you had a fight," he interjected, "doesn't mean that he didn't want to be your friend."
"I did the right thing," the Courier pouted, "and I'm pretty sure that all that yelling means that he's not my friend."
A silence fell upon the group as each lost themselves in their own thoughts. Canyon Runner thought of what Six said, that she believed she had done the right thing in making New Vegas an independent state. She thought for herself and forged her own path, against the wishes of others. Canyon Runner had done the same thing when he let Vulpes down from the cross. In that moment, he reached a crossroads of a decision, where he was to either listen to what he was told, or do what was right. Vulpes reiterated the importance of thinking to him that very day and even voiced his confidence that Canyon Runner could become an individual.
Canyon Runner stared down at the drink in his hands. It hadn't killed him, and he felt no worse for having taken a sip of it. He supposed he could drink it, or he could not; that was his choice.
Canyon Runner took another sip of the drink, and spied Cassidy's wry grin over the rim of the glass. Perhaps, it would kill him in an entirely different way.
Everyone was happily buzzed, and Vulpes was pleased with his fellow Legionaries' acceptance of New Vegas culture. He was certain that they would use their heads with substances, and that he wouldn't have to reel them in.
As much as he loved to watch them, Vulpes was getting tired. He had been out of the room for about two hours, and it took its toll on him just to stay sitting up.
Six leaned over in her chair to tuck a scrap of overgrown hair behind his ear.
"Want to go to bed?" she asked.
Bed? With her? Oh, yes. But that probably wasn't what she had in mind. Still, it continually amazed him that Six seemed to know what he needed, which was rest, all desires aside.
He gave her a quick nod, and she helped him up from the chair. The talking in the room paused for a moment as the praetorians asked if they needed help. Six gave a quick no before leading him by the arm toward her bedroom.
They stopped just inside the room for a quick kiss. When Vulpes drew back to peer into her eyes, he decided that he could have just one more. Their lips met again; this time, more drawn out. Her little sigh told him that he couldn't pull away, and Vulpes leaned in again. Their tongues met, the Courier's mouth tasting like rum.
Vulpes stepped backward and the backs of his legs bumped against the footstool that was close to the couch. As their kiss became more fervent, he sat down, dragging Six into his lap. The grind of their hips against each other sent Vulpes gasping and renewing his effort. His mouth engulfed hers as the loneliness of their time apart began to evaporate.
Her hand wound itself into his hair, the other splayed across his bare chest. Vulpes waited for this moment for what seemed like an eternity, and he savored every desperate second.
Six scooted closer on his lap, gasping when she most assuredly felt his arousal. He was too winded to chuckle, so he settled on grabbing her hips and kissing her neck. The Courier pushed forward again, biting her lip to try to hold in another gasp. When she moved a third time, Vulpes met her, starting a slow rhythm. They sat there for a while, rocking and gasping until his arousal hit the point of desperation. If he didn't stop, he would have her right there, door open and all.
Sparks danced across his vision as the world faded into gray. He was panting, barely able to gather enough air to keep himself from passing out. Vulpes wasn't well enough. If he continued to exert himself, he could pass out from it. For a moment, he sat, weighing the pros and cons of continuing. He could pass out even before finishing, could potentially delay his healing, or even regress in progress. Was having sex worth that? In a second, Vulpes concluded that it was.
He was about to make a move when Six stood from his lap and grabbed his elbow in an attempt to lead him toward the bed.
"You're still sick," she sighed, "and you fell asleep there for a moment with your head on my shoulder."
Had he? He certainly didn't remember falling asleep.
"I'm fine," he protested, blinking as his vision blurred.
Vulpes grunted as she made him lie in bed, face down to protect his back. The uncomfortableness of the position didn't faze him as he realized that perhaps, she was right. He fell asleep quickly, despite his best efforts.
Six sat next to Vulpes, running her hands through his hair as he slept. He hadn't stirred in hours, and the Courier worried that maybe he was pushed too far in walking out to the kitchen earlier. The room was cold, dark, and quiet, the silence punctuated by occasional laughter from the other room. For the first time since the Legionaries arrived, they were able to truly relax.
A grunt roused her from her thinking, and Six leaned over to kiss Vulpes on the cheek. He turned to look at her, his eyes sad. Something was on his mind.
"Need to tell you something," he murmured.
Six hoped it wasn't another love confession; she heard so many of those in the past few days, and each one made her feel increasingly guilty. If he loved her, then she felt pressured to love him back, even if she didn't. He almost died trying to find his way to her, after all. Vulpes was so devoted, and the Courier steeled herself for what he was about to say.
"I can't just keep this to myself any longer," Vulpes continued, "while the other Legionaries know what happened to me, they don't understand how much it bothers me."
Six grabbed his hand, bracing herself. This sounded very bad.
"I trust you," he sighed, "and I know that you won't judge me for my past. You don't care that I'm Legion, after all. But I need you to swear that you'll not tell anyone what I am about to say."
"I promise," Six whispered, peering into his eyes. She swore with all her heart that she wouldn't tell anyone.
"The over the past months," he continued, "the Butcher forced me into sexual situations. My eventual refusal is what put me in this state. The others know this."
Six stared at him, her eyes wide. If the others knew about that, then she was very scared to hear what his secret was. But she swore to keep it, and she would.
"What happened with him brings back memories," Vulpes murmured, "memories of things that happened when I was a child that I locked away as best as I could. But recently, it's been haunting me, and I'm unable to move past it."
He froze, as if unable to continue. Leaning in, Six kissed his cheek and squeezed his hand in an attempt to tell him that it was okay.
"When I was a child, my instructor touched me," Vulpes admitted, "frequently. So, what I feel right now – I don't know – it is difficult. I relived that past. There are no words to describe it."
Six's chin shook as she attempted to hold back her tears. Who would do such a thing to a child?
What Boone told her long ago came back into her mind, that men like Vulpes always had some sort of baggage. But, why this? Why did it have to be something so horrible?
"If just one person understands," Vulpes whispered, "then perhaps everything will feel better."
The tears she held back finally fell as Six scooted over from her chair to lay next to him in the bed. She wanted to hug him, to be as close as possible and never let go. But his back was absolutely destroyed, and Six couldn't touch him.
"Don't cry for me," he chided, kissing her hand. There was a tremble in his voice, and it was too dark to see exactly how he felt.
In the corner of her eye, Six noticed that the door had been cracked open. She saw the shadow of someone walking away, and she wondered if they overheard what she and Vulpes talked about. If Vulpes noticed them, he didn't seem to indicate that he knew.
Six scooted closer to Vulpes, hoping that he hadn't. She couldn't imagine the pain of sharing such a terrible secret, then having someone accidentally overhear.
But would telling her fix everything? Six wasn't so naïve as to believe so.
He lost track of the number of days that he had been in captivity. It was obvious that the uncreative fools that held him captive thought this was a good way to weaken his resolve, to get him to finally talk. Silus did wonder, though, what they would do if he just decided to talk. The shock would probably kill them.
The NCR group that had once been at Camp McCarran carted him around until they were back in NCR territory. It was pathetic how they lost the war, yet they still attempted to get information out of him – information that was outdated, nonetheless.
The rusted door to his interrogation room opened and Lt. Carrie Boyd stepped in. Every day, this happened, sometimes more than once a day.
"Hey," she grumbled, lighting a cigarette. She knew it would annoy him.
"Bitch," Silus nodded.
Like usual, it didn't faze Boyd. If he talked, it wouldn't be to her; he wanted to annoy the Lieutenant as much as he could, and it was one way that he could get even.
The door opened again, and another person stepped into the room. From the last name on the man's shirt, he knew that this was Captain Ronald Curtis. He had a reputation for being a hard-ass, almost as much as Boyd. But, compared to the Legion, these profligate commanders were all soft.
"I figured I'd let a man talk to you," Boyd clipped, "since you're all into that kind of thing."
"I'm not the Legate," Silus snapped. The words came out in a rush, his own voice taking on a mind of its own. He supposed he didn't care, though. The Legion had more problems than worrying about a captured Centurion that was no longer in the loop.
"The Legate is Caesar now," Curtis interjected, "in case you didn't know."
A bitter laugh escaped his lips before Silus could catch it.
"What's so funny?" Boyd asked.
To spite her, Silus didn't say a word.
"Trouble in paradise?" Curtis asked.
It was a curious question, given that the normal assumption would be that with the Legate in charge, the Legion would be unstoppable. Perhaps, this Captain Curtis was smarter than the average piece of NCR trash.
"With Lanius in charge," he explained, "everyone is fucked."
"Everyone?" Curtis chuckled.
"NCR, Legion," Silus continued, "Vulpes Inculta – especially Vulpes Inculta – is fucked."
Boyd lifted a brow at what he said, but made no move to ask another question. It was obvious that she wouldn't get anything out of him, and her face was turning red with what Silus hoped was jealousy. This case had been her baby, after all, and he decided to talk to someone else right in front of her face.
"Vulpes Inculta," Curtis nodded, "why especially him?"
Silus felt a twinge of irritation as the man mispronounced Vulpes' name, immediately after he said it.
"Well 'Sirtis'," he mispronounced, "what do you think it means?"
"Sounds like the Legion's favored general can't keep his hands off of people," Curtis guessed.
Silus shook his head.
"No, that's Vulpes," he replied.
The Centurion shot Boyd a lewd glance and loved her fidgeting under his gaze. She was used to being treated like a man, and it showed.
"Boyd is his type," he goaded, "I bet he's given her a pregnancy scare or two."
The woman rolled her eyes and crossed her arms, glancing down at the floor. Word got around very easily, and the walls of their new base were very thin. Silus listened, and he knew everything. Boyd fucked around with a man named Fox, as did a bunch of women on the Strip. Given Vulpes' desires, his identity was easy to see to someone that was at the top of the Legion.
"What is his type?" Curtis asked. He reached into his pocket for a cigarette and Silus sighed. The Captain must have seen it; he put the cigarette away without lighting it. Maybe the man would win enough of his respect, if he had any, that he would reveal Vulpes' identity. He suspected not, though; if they couldn't figure it out with the hints he provided, then they didn't deserve to know.
"She has a pulse," he snickered, "that's all Vulpes needs."
"So, a sex addict?" the Captain pressed. His stare was strange, almost sad looking. Pity for the enemy was weakness.
"If you can get addicted to it," Silus shrugged, "guess so."
"What does that have to do with Lanius?" Curtis wondered.
Silus snorted, wondering how these people were so thick. The implications of what he said were obvious, but he supposed he would have to spell it out for them.
"It was no secret," he explained, "that when Lanius first joined the Legion, he had a thing for Vulpes. Now I wager he can act on it, despite the fact that it is very, very illegal."
"What makes Vulpes so special?" Curtis asked.
"Are you stupid?" he snapped, "He's the leader of the Frumentarii and could go anywhere and do anything he wanted. He had Caesar wrapped around his finger, and it bothered people. The Butcher didn't like that, but has some kind of disgusting attraction to him. I guarantee that Vulpes is playing bitch to try to get in good with Lanius."
Boyd laughed and uncrossed her arms.
"So, a forbidden affair," she chuckled, "that could tear the Legion apart. NCR wouldn't even have to do a thing."
The Lieutenant tossed her half-finished cigarette on the floor by his feet, just out of his reach. She told him that he had done well that day, patronizing him for his cooperation. Silus didn't bother to reply, and this annoyed Boyd.
"He probably thinks you're beneath his notice," Curtis chuckled, earning an indignant huff from the woman.
Silus laughed outright; the Captain was absolutely correct. Boyd was a mannish whore, beneath his notice. She hadn't been beneath Vulpes' notice, but all that animal needed was a pulse.
He watched as the two NCR officers left his room and began to discuss Curtis' retirement. The thought of quitting the military was foreign to Silus; Legionaries didn't quit. But Curtis was of an honorless breed, the type of warrior that played around with being one before quitting.
Silus stifled his mind's accusation that he had quit too and instead focused on their conversation. Curtis was leaving in three days' time to retire to New Vegas, to hopefully benefit from the new government's prosperity. It was an adventure of the boring kind, when a man would cut down plants instead of his foes.
He didn't understand what was so attractive about the filthy city, the lights, gambling, and degenerate scum that trashed the place on a nightly basis. One thing was for certain, though; when the Mojave called to someone, there was no resisting the desert's call.
