Arise, Let Us Go Hence
Synopsis: Sage wrestles with the responsibility of ruling New Vegas, and Joshua and Daniel try to encourage her.
Zion Valley, April 2283.
The midmorning sun glinted off the river's gently sloping surfaces and into the eyes of the two men above, on the cliff overlooking the Narrows. Neither squinted; they were strong-willed, the both of them. Or maybe they didn't want to close their eyes against the beauty of this place, even for a moment.
Zion Valley was a land that caught the eye and held it, crafted by the hand of God. No one left this place without a very compelling reason —which was about to make things difficult.
Daniel lifted the brim of his hat as he scanned the canyon. "We're headed into shaky territory."
"Something must be done," said Joshua grimly.
"It should. But we need to be careful, or —"
"The longer we wait, the more volatile it could get."
"Okay, okay," Daniel murmured, more to himself than to Joshua. "No more stalling." He turned to enter Half Mouse Cave, jaw set.
The cave was mostly empty at this point in the morning. The few Sorrows who were about —mothers with very small children, a few sick or injured — were all giving a fairly wide berth to the woman lying spread-eagle on her back, staring dimly at the strip of sunlight from the cave mouth. She watched the two men's shadows pass over it, then slowly tilted her head up to meet them. "Hey, guys."
"Good to see you," Daniel greeted her. "Any plans for today?"
"Or are you going to spend all of your earthly hours lying on the ground once again?" grumbled Joshua. Daniel shot him a look, pleading for caution.
Sage moved her limbs thoughtfully, like a child making a snow angel. "Floor feels nice. It's cold."
"Astute," observed Joshua flatly.
Sage's lips tightened into a pensive frown at his sarcasm. "Didn't realize this was an interrogation."
"No, no..." Daniel started to crouch to her level, then thought better of it. "We've just been getting... well, concerned."
"About me?" she asked, dumbfounded.
"About the fact that you haven't left Zion," Joshua said bluntly.
"What's wrong? I'm not hurting anything!" Sage was no longer sleepily calm, but she still wasn't roused off the floor.
Daniel took the opening, picking through each word like a minefield. "We're a little more worried about what you're doing to yourself."
"And the city you swore to protect," Joshua added. He was no less empathetic than Daniel, but he had no desire to coddle a grown woman, whatever crisis was going on in her scar-pocked head.
Sage finally pushed up, spun herself, and propped her head on one hand. "Waking Cloud wants me to stay," she declared with apparent finality.
Daniel sighed slowly, either at Sage's argument or her mention of his estranged friend. "Of course she does. We all want you to stay. But just because we wish it could happen doesn't make it the right thing to do. Like Joshua said, you have New Vegas to think about."
"You're kicking me out." She spoke with more authority than anger, no question in her voice, but a touch of betrayal.
"No! No." Daniel hurried to placate her. Joshua, however, refused to be cowed.
"Zion has no master but God. It's not our place to tell you to leave. But do you expect us not to mention to behavior?" Joshua sensed a bit of his former strictness shining through, and tried to back off. In her state, he didn't know if she'd take a lecture with aggression or hurt feelings. Still, she needed a push.
Sage pulled a knee up to her chest, defensive. Her eyes were wary in a way that suggested she knew she was being unreasonable, like a child up to something.
Daniel dropped to a true crouch and looked her in the eyes. "You're a dear friend to us, Sage. We care about you. Whatever is wrong, we want to help you with it."
The Courier stared critically at him, judging whether the sentiment was genuine or just a tactic to get her to leave. Her demeanor had changed to someone older, someone weighed down. She found no duplicity in Daniel's eyes. "You don't... need to do anything. Things are just kind of bad right now. I came to Zion because it's the only place I can remember that makes me feel happy."
"You don't seem happy," Joshua remarked.
She rubbed her forehead, strained. "If you were in my position, you'd be hiding out in Utah too," she said, ignoring the fact that he was.
"Ah," said Daniel. "That bad?"
Sage propped her arm on her knee, and her chin on her arm. "You have no idea. I'm two-and-a-half years old — that's as far back as I go. I just crowned myself mayor of a huge stretch of land, and I-don't-know-how-many people. My governing body is so far made up of a drunk caravaner, a sniper with issues, my schizophrenic grandma, an actual anarchist, a scribe — also with issues — an elderly vaquero, a dog, and two robots. And most of them want to leave me and go chase their own destinies! And it's my fault, because I'm the one who told them to stop relying on me and go live their destinies.
"I've been to six casinos, and all but one of them had their leadership involved in some sort of murder plot. I had to destroy the biggest farm in the area. The NCR is stuck between idolizing me and calling me a terrorist. We pushed back the Legion, but that just made things worse for the people who live under it. I had to kill so, so many... Most of those boys were under twenty! Some of their voices were still cracking..." Sage grit her teeth against the beads of moisture pooled in her eyes. "It's not like they know any better, they only fight because stupid monsters raised them that way—" Her eyes flickered, almost involuntarily, to Joshua. He noticed, as stony as ever. Sage backtracked.
"I— I don't mean you, Joshua. You aren't like them, you—"
"No," he interrupted. "I was, once. I've come to terms with my role in it. As much as one can. There's no need to spare my feelings."
"Okay. Sorry. Sorry. It's just so hard, living it, and not knowing what to do, you know?"
"I understand."
"Like, when we freed Molly a few months ago, it was nice for a second. But how many thousands more are still suffering while we pat ourselves on the back? Everything I do makes me so exhausted because it's just useless, all of it."
"Your actions have more consequences than you realize," he said gently. "I know how slaves think. All they need from you is hope."
"You give them hope." Sage waved him off. "Not me. I only make things worse. Lucius is breeding them like cattle now."
"Hope is all they have, Sage."
"You could stand to find some for yourself," Daniel added.
"It's hard to imagine things could get better. I don't remember what it's like. This — this is all I've known—" Sage drew a shaky breath. "I'm just so tired of war," she muttered, defeated.
Daniel broke eye contact, suddenly strained. "Then why did you bring it here?" he whispered. Joshua's nephew was strong, but grief and guilt could strike without warning. Sage followed his gaze to a small tribal child observing them, with his thumb planted firmly in his mouth.
"I'm sorry, Daniel," she said, closing her eyes for a brief moment. He frowned tensely, making it clear to what extent sorry didn't cut it. Just as well — Sage regretted the consequences of her and Joshua's actions, but she'd have done it all again.
"We did what we had to do," said Joshua, steady and solemn.
"You were blinded by vengeance," Daniel countered.
"I did the right thing. For the wrong reasons. Sage did it for the right reasons. We owe her our thanks."
Daniel was not a confrontational man, but Sage could sense the heartbreak flowing from him. He spoke again after a moment, this time to wound.
"You of all people should know not to gamble with the souls of those who trust you."
Blow scored, he left the cave. Tiny flecks of recognition stirred in Sage's shattered memory; glimmers of bitter arguments and savage disgust. No details, only that she felt just as awkward now as she had then.
"I'm sorry about him," Joshua said, calm as ever. "He does appreciate your work, despite his strong feelings about our methods." His voice was even, and Sage caught no hint of the pain Daniel had meant to inflict.
"What did he mean by gambling with souls? The Dam?" she ventured.
"I doubt it. More likely, he was referring to my apprentice." There. Sage had felt it, a tiny pause imbued with meaning. Her friend's ancient wound, hidden behind bandages and forced casualness. She sat quietly, expecting more.
"A young boy I trained, while I was Legate," he continued. "He was dear to me... another casualty of my arrogance."
"What happened?"
"I lost him to the Fiends. It was... preventable."
"I'm sorry."
"Thank you." He changed the subject. "Are you feeling more yourself?"
Sage stared at him from her patch of floor. "No." She stood up, hissing silkily. "But I don't really have a choice, do I?"
"There's always a choice, Sage."
"Then I choose to go. My city needs me there. And... I've run away for long enough."
Joshua nodded proudly. "I'm glad. If you can, reconcile with Daniel before you go. Perhaps you can get through to him, as you did to me."
"He'll come around. Don't worry." She slung her pack over her shoulder. "I guess I'm heading out. Better late than never."
"Indeed. We'll be anticipating your next visit."
"Be safe out there, Joshua."
"May God protect you."