A/N: I'm in the middle of moving, so it's been another long delay between chapters. Thanks for hanging in there!


It was very late at night when the Courier's bedroom door finally opened. Nearly soundless steps made their way down the hall and to the bathroom. He heard water rushing through old pipes through the walls, then nothing, followed by footsteps approaching the kitchen. Vulpes appeared in the doorway, saw him, and frowned slightly. Shrugging, the frumentarius grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge and sat down at the table.

"That didn't go well," Vulpes mused, pursing his lips.

"No," Graham replied, "I gathered that it did not." Everyone heard enough to piece together what was going on, and it caused Craig to leave the suite for a while. After all, the Courier was like a sister to him, and Craig understandably did not want to listen in on her intimate life. Next to Graham, Follows-Chalk fidgeted, obviously uncomfortable with the topic of conversation.

"In my defense," Vulpes sighed, "I had no idea."

"Noted," Graham shrugged. He was sure that it had been an accident. Vulpes had never been a brute, unlike some of the other officers; it made him a very effective member of the frumentarii. Joshua looked down at the Scripture in front of him and wondered if he ought to continue, or if Vulpes meant to converse. The Frumentarius glanced around before leveling his gaze on him.

"I held the torch," Vulpes stated.

"I remember," Graham nodded. He removed his reading glasses and put his scripture aside. Follows-Chalk was tense, his unease with Vulpes growing. Vulpes admitting to torching him gave the scout yet another reason to dislike Vulpes. In a second, Follows-Chalk left the room, presumably to find Craig. Graham personally liked the new Vulpes in comparison to the brat he had known before. In that regard, he found it somewhat difficult to understand the scout's disdain. Perhaps, he was growing more tolerant with age.

"Doesn't that bother you?" Vulpes asked.

No, it didn't; at least, not anymore. But he wasn't about to give that answer up so easily.

"Does it bother you?" Joshua asked.

Vulpes frowned and looked down. Apparently, this wasn't one of his attempts to goad someone into an argument; he appeared to genuinely want to know.

"I didn't agree with some things," Vulpes added, as if to gloss over his question.

"So it did bother you," Graham concluded. There was a definitive nod in reply.

"He always had someone do the dirty work for him," Joshua noted, "even if it was something he could easily do himself."

Vulpes took a sip of his water.

"He had his flaws," he replied, staring at the wall.

"As do we all," Graham said.

There was a gulf of silence between them as Vulpes took another sip of water. Just as Joshua reached for his reading glasses once more, Vulpes spoke.

"You know that this was what he wanted to do," he said, "to combine the military discipline of the Legion with Western ingenuity."

Graham chuckled. Yes, that had been the goal when the Legion grew in size. But he knew that Edward wouldn't have stopped there. Vulpes had to know that as well.

"You don't agree?" Vulpes pressed, "in this very suite is the utopia. It works on a small scale, and it would most assuredly work on a large one." His hands wove grand gestures, his eyes sparkling, and if he hadn't known Vulpes and the Legion from before, Graham might have believed his tales and infectious excitement. When this man believed in something, results happened. He hoped that Vulpes believed in the Courier.

"Does it matter if it would have worked?" Graham asked, "There was too much damaging rhetoric surrounding the plan for it to do any good."

Vulpes nodded slowly, conceding the point.

"I could have changed that," he frowned. Graham wanted to ask how Vulpes could have changed what was so set in stone.

Out in the suite, the elevator door opened, a set of heavy footsteps making their way toward the kitchen. Cass stood in the doorway, seemingly tickled just from looking at Vulpes.

"Nice shootin', Tex," Cass drawled, chuckling.

Vulpes turned to give her a vicious glare; the Caravaner had to know that she was close to crossing a dangerous line. Graham knew Vulpes well, and knew that one thing that would send him over the edge was having his masculinity questioned.

"I did my best with what I had," came his curt reply.

"So, that's your infamous best, huh?" Cass snorted.

Vulpes stood and made his way to the door. Graham wondered if he ought to intervene, when Vulpes' reply came.

"Don't patronize me," he hissed, "I've been doing this since I was six." He left in a fury, taking the elevator to some unknown destination.

Cass blinked and shook her head as she attempted to process what Vulpes said. As expected, grabbing a bottle of whiskey from the cupboard was part of her plan. She sat down in the chair that Vulpes vacated, propped her boots up on the table, and took a sip of her whiskey.

"Legion guys really start that early?" she asked, nodding toward the door.

"Does anyone willingly start that early?" Joshua countered.

The woman cringed and took a deep draught of the liquid.

"Explains a lot about him," she sighed. Cass played with the bottle's cork, staring at the table.

"It would behoove you to not mention what you know to anybody," Graham nodded.

The caravaner swore and nodded in agreement before taking another long drink.

Joshua placed his reading glasses back in their place and looked down at the Scripture. He wasn't sure what reason God had for putting Vulpes through so much, but he assumed that it had something to do with humility, and undoing the damage that Edward had done.


Whenever someone had a problem, he had the inescapable urge to help them, especially if they were a friend. It was in his nature to do so. Arcade was a self-avowed fixer.

So, when Six came to him that morning with a grim look on her face, he was all ears. She pulled him aside and told him that there had been an 'accident'. Given the certain sounds that came from her room the previous night, the doctor was sure he knew what the accident had been.

"We'll have to go to Freeside," he sighed. Six looked up at him, looking ready to cry.

Arcade wasn't sure why he was doing this. After all, the Followers didn't provide morning after pills for anyone unless they were raped. Drugs were too scarce, and birth control as it was in the pre-war era didn't exist. They were lucky to have what they did.

The doctor pressed the button to open the elevator door, and ushered the Courier inside. They stood inside the elevator in an awkward silence, as Arcade mentally debated himself on whether or not he was acting responsibly or ethically. The elevator traveled to its destination, a light blinking as they passed each floor.

"Why are we going up?" Six asked, bringing him out of his thoughts.

The elevator opened to reveal the penthouse instead of the casino floor, and the doctor frowned. This had something to do with Yes Man; he was sure of it.

"Hello! Come on down," the bot called, confirming Arcade's suspicions.

The pair descended the stairs toward the console. Arcade followed behind the Courier in hesitation; he didn't like where any of this was going, given the recent turn of events. Yes Man had eyes and ears everywhere, and it was no doubt that it knew exactly what they planned.

"I have a present for you," the bot declared.

Six stepped into the room as a securitron wheeled up to her. In its pincers was a small, sterilized medical bag. Rather than handing the bag to the Courier, the bot dropped it in Arcade's hands.

He glanced down at the object; it was a small, metal cross, with exposed ends of copper. At one end was a string, and the doctor knew exactly what it was. How Yes Man had gotten a hold of a copper IUD, he'd never know.

"This thing is virtually priceless," Arcade murmured, staring at the device. Had it not been a valuable resource, it would have been put in a museum.

"What is it?" Six asked. She leaned in closely to stare at it.

"This is an intra-uterine device," Yes Man announced, "we're going to have the doctor put this inside you, and you won't have any pesky babies for a good ten years. And it'll fix that little accident from last night, with a one percent chance of failure. I'd say those are good odds, wouldn't you?"

The Courier leaned in to look at the device in awe, and Arcade gently pulled it away from her gaze. It was, without a doubt, in Yes Man's best interests for Six to not get pregnant. A child would complicate the bot's plans, as well as make the already suspicious people angry that the Courier got pregnant from a former Legionary. This was governmental sterilization, pure and simple.

"Does she have the right to refuse this treatment?" Arcade asked.

"Oh, but I know she'll like it," the bot countered.

"A one percent chance is really good," Six mumbled, "where does it go?"

"Your uterus, silly!" Yes Man laughed.

The Courier nodded and swallowed as she realized that this wasn't going to be as simple as taking a pill. Arcade wasn't a fan of this in the least; even if she wanted the birth control, she very obviously didn't have a right to refuse it.

"I'm concerned about her reproductive rights," he frowned, daring to stare the bot down.

"What's the difference if she can decide or not?" the bot asked, "She wants it, after all; both of our purposes are served."

Six nodded in consent, and Arcade sighed.

"You have to realize this," he insisted, "you are not being given a choice as to if you want this or not. What would you do if you wanted a baby? What would you do if you're ordered to have one and you don't want one? If you do this, then it could happen to other women."

"Nope," Yes Man interjected, "it won't. And her wishes most certainly coincide with mine. We're not going to start eugenics or anything here, if that's your concern."

He could feel his argument starting to crumble, but there was the lingering concern that Six – and other women, by extension – would be forced into giving up their reproductive rights.

"I could sterilize Vulpes, if you prefer," the bot said, "but that would indeed be forced, and irreversible. So, that would be an actual chat about reproductive rights."

"Is it fair to cheat like this?" Six asked.

"It's governmental assistance," Yes Man replied, "and it is most certainly not cheating. Just don't go around telling everyone about it."

Arcade tossed the idea around in his head as he weighed the pros and cons of both arguments. He supposed everything could be okay, but only if certain conditions were met.

"If we're going to do this," the doctor sighed, "then I would feel much better if we had Six sign a form of consent that outlines the procedure and her willful consent to undergo it, as well as the stipulation that she may have it removed at any time if she so chooses."

In a second, the terminal at the front of the room beeped and churned out a sheet of paper. A securitron grabbed it and a pen, wheeling over toward them. Six grabbed the paper and pen.

"So I just sign?" she asked.

"Read it first," Arcade ordered. This was how many people got in trouble in the old world.

Six nodded, and the doctor prepared himself for a long wait as the Courier read it. Within a minute, he was shocked to discover that she'd finished; normal wastelanders couldn't read, and if they could, it took them a long time to do so.

"You read and understood that?" he asked, hoping that she hadn't just glossed over it.

The Courier nodded and put the pen to the signature line. Beautiful, carefully formed letters trailed behind the pen, making Arcade sad. Wherever six was from, someone had taken care to give her an excellent education, including one in cursive writing.

"Now why did I do that?" she laughed, looking at her signature.

Arcade read the word 'Sim' and pondered its meaning as the Courier neatly crossed out the word and resigned the form as 'Six'.

"Perhaps there was an 'm' in your name," he suggested. The sad, startled look in her eyes made him regret his words. Without a doubt, she would look at the tiny clue and try to guess her name, even if it had been just a mistake in her writing.

"Before we start," Six frowned, "I have a question. If I didn't know, then he should have known, right? He put his finger up there before."

Oh God. He had hoped that he avoided the sex ed questions, but apparently, he hadn't. Arcade mustered up his best doctor's manners and formulated his answer.

"A single finger?" he replied, "That might not do much on the way of tearing. And wasn't he drugged the night that he did that? He probably assumed you had physical experience, which was safe, given that twenty-something year old virgins are rare in the wasteland."

Six nodded and appeared to be content with his answer.

"The huge penis probably didn't help," she murmured, "thought those were supposed to feel good."

Arcade nearly choked, his face turning red. Yes, he saw that when he had to strip Vulpes to assess his injuries. Saving the man's life had been important at the time, but it was difficult not to notice.

"It depends on how it's handled," he coughed, "It can be either really nice or feel like you're being stabbed."

The Courier broke out into a wry grin and giggled at him. He didn't like that look on her. Six was up to something.

"You're a power bottom, aren't you?" she chuckled.

He stared at her in bewilderment. Where had she learned that phrase?

"It's okay," she whispered, "Crassius is too."

Arcade swallowed and made his way to the sink, intent on getting the wonderful mental images of the two praetorians out of his head. He was going to scrub up, dammit, and not think about what she said. On the bright side, she was relaxed – albeit, at his expense – for the procedure. He opted to ignore her in the face of educating her on the device.

"Now," he nodded, "In case you decide to have sex again –"

"I won't," Six interrupted.

Arcade fought the urge to laugh. He almost guaranteed that Vulpes wasn't done with the Courier yet, and before she knew it, she'd have the pants wooed off her all over again.

"This is going to keep pregnancy from happening," he continued, "or at least, it has a one to three percent failure rate.

Arcade scrubbed up, hoping that this would go well. He didn't want to make the poor girl cry.


The scabs on his back were nearly healed, and Vulpes couldn't contain the itch to do something any longer. He cleared an area in the cocktail lounge and began to practice with an old machete, his muscles burning from being underused. He was sure that he was well enough for physical activity, but just had to be careful with what he did.

It was about time, really. Before the flogging, he had been a fine-tuned killing machine, toned and muscled as much as possible from training out of boredom rather than necessity. It had done wonders for his encounters with Lanius, and he was positive that had he been in better physical form, last night would have gone much differently.

Vulpes put the machete aside and began a vicious set of pushups, intent on making up for lost time. Within a minute, he was out of breath, his arms screaming for reprieve. Panting, Vulpes rolled over on his back and attempted a set of sit-ups, only to find that the pull was too much on his back. This was overwhelmingly frustrating.

The sound of the elevator opening drew him away from his predicament. For a moment, he hoped and feared that it was Six, coming to talk to him about what he did to her. But the sound of two sets of footsteps meant that it couldn't be her. Vulpes sat up and listened intently.

"I just need to learn to shut my damn mouth," Cass sighed.

He narrowed his eyes in the direction of her voice. She did indeed; he almost backhanded her that morning.

"Yes," Canyon Runner replied, "you do."

Vulpes heard a slapping noise as the caravaner gasped in indignation. She most certainly gave him the mock-slap, and was most certainly flirting with him. Interesting.

"What should I do?" the recruit asked, "should I excuse it?"

"No," Cass replied, "I need help with it."

"I can do that," Canyon Runner offered.

They were silent for a moment, and Vulpes wondered if they had left.

"What?" Cass asked.

More silence.

"What?" she insisted, and the recruit grumbled.

"You drink too much," he admitted.

"You're shitting me," Cass groused, "is this some of that Legion shit or?"

The question hung in the air as Canyon Runner formulated a reply. This was obviously a conversation Vulpes wasn't meant to overhear.

"It's before midday," Canyon Runner replied, "and you've already been drinking."

"That's because I said some shit," she whined, "and then learned some shit, and now everything's shit."

"You could try using logic and reason," the recruit offered, "drinking isn't going to take those words back, and could even give you more terrible things to say."

Those words, spoken so plainly, were exactly what Cass needed. Admittedly, Vulpes had his doubts about them in the beginning; after all, there was quite the age gap, as well as a very large cultural difference. But those things seemed to work well. Cass could build the recruit's confidence, while Canyon Runner could get the woman to settle down. Vulpes was glad that he encouraged this.

The conversation dissolved into nothing, and he heard the distinct sound of kissing. He supposed he ought to either make his presence known, or leave, if he could get out without being seen.

"I've got an idea," Cass chuckled, "and it doesn't involve drinking."

There was only one other thing that she could be talking about, and Vulpes wanted no part in it. Despite his sexual vices, he wasn't a voyeur.

Perhaps he could sneak out while they were distracted with what they were doing, preferably before too many clothes were removed. With this in mind, Vulpes made his way toward the elevator shaft and hugged the wall. He crept around toward the door. Just as he was about to enter, a shirt flew across the room and hit him in the face.

Sputtering, Vulpes slunk into the elevator, hopefully unnoticed. The building was much too crowded for any form of privacy.


He couldn't sleep again, something that became routine with each passing day since Vulpes disappeared. Lanius stood from bed and wandered down the hall, toward his former lover's bedroom. He'd been a presumptuous fool with Vulpes, and he paid the price for his ignorance. The Butcher was terribly, fearfully alone.

Opening the door, Lanius stepped inside the room where he and Vulpes had their first encounter. Memories came back to him; thoughts of sensuous kisses and the desk being pushed against the wall haunted him. Sighing, the Butcher laid down face first on the bed and inhaled deeply. It smelled of sex – of Vulpes – and he fought the urge to sleep there.

Lanius rolled over on his back and stared up at the ceiling. He threw something good away in a fit of anger. Then again, executing Vulpes could have been merciful, given the fact that apparently, the entire affair was coerced. He didn't understand; Vulpes really enjoyed himself when they were together. Was he that confused about his sexuality? Perhaps, Vulpes had been much too young for him. Though Vulpes enabled him, the Butcher shared much more of the blame than he cared to admit.

Growling, Lanius left the bed, intent on leaving. The desk caught his eye again, and the Butcher stopped to search through the drawers.

He should have known that there was nothing there; he ordered that all of Vulpes' personal items be removed and sent with him. Lanius regretted leaving nothing behind; a strongly sentimental part of him wanted something to remember the Fox by.

He opened the top right drawer, and heard something slide around. Finding this curious, Lanius peered inside to see a small, black box. He removed it from the drawer and marveled at its soft texture. There appeared to be a hinge on one side, and a seam down all others. He opened it to reveal a small ring, its red and white stones sparkling faintly in the moonlight.

It was a gift for a woman, and there was only one woman that Vulpes would bother to give such a thing to. Lanius swallowed as he saw another confirmation that he never meant anything to Vulpes.

He was brought out of his thoughts by voices in the hallway. Lanius closed the box and listened intently, only able to pick out bits and pieces of the conversation. It was Ossian, and another set of guards. The word 'unnatural' drifted to his ears, and Lanius clenched his hand around the ring box in anger. Though they knew the law against certain relations, they had no right to gossip like women.

With the box in hand, Lanius quickly left the room and stepped into the hallway. Immediately, the guards stepped back from each other and gave him a salute, but it was too late; he'd caught them.

"I hope you're not discussing the Hanged Man," he growled.

There was no response.

"Well?" Lanius shouted, displeased when none of them flinched.

"Mars will do as he sees fit," Ossian replied, his answer cryptic. The other guards nodded in agreement.

"And who has the voice of Mars?" the Butcher questioned.

"Mighty Caesar," the guard nodded.

"That's what I thought," Lanius hissed. He withdrew to his quarters quickly, slamming the door behind him. Guard dogs barked outside at the commotion, causing lights to turn on and legionaries to stir and walk around to check for intruders.

The last thing he needed was guards disrespecting him. If he heard so much as one more thing from them, then Lanius would kill them all.