Chapter 11

I made an error last chapter. A few of them in fact, but the big one was that The Republic of Dave, where the Lone Wanderer has set up his compound, is east of Old Olney, not west.

I confess that going over the last few chapters, I'm seeing a lot of little errors and issues that I could solve if I spent a little more time out of the gate on these.

Here's the thing: the honest truth is that this is the first time in years I've had this much gas in the tank. I had crippling writer's block for ages, and now I am terrified of stopping or slowing down, even to do a quality edit. Mutatis Mutandis took me years to finish, and if I ever get held up like that again, I might never finish at all. I'm not getting paid for this; it is passion alone for this franchise which keeps me going. I don't want to risk that right now. It's precarious.

Sorry if this note comes across as pompous or self-absorbed at all. I just want to tell you how it is…

So here's the deal: if you guys can tolerate a few spelling/grammar errors and the occasional lore-related flub, I'll do my best to keep pumping out these chapters and whole books as fast as I can so that we all get to see how it ends. Deal?

"How many?" Jackrum asked, his voice hollow.

"Another two companies." Glade told him, standing at the head of Fort Bnnister's map table.

"And counting," Reginal Rothchild said tersely. Sheriff Simms and Lucy West were there as well, both wearing grim expressions. The Elder continued, "They have a Mag-lev train running from the Rockland tunnels out west to who knows where. They could funnel companies in every week if they wanted to."

"Many more than this and they're going to outnumber actual Wastelanders…" Jackrum observed quietly. God, he wanted a cigarette so bady, but he had forgotten them in his bedside cabinet. He had to admit, being woken up at two in the morning for news like this felt like the worst alarm call since whatever poor bastard had slept in on October 23, 2077.

"What they hell do they want with us?" Simms asked, in his deep, growly voice, "we don't have any massive technology outside of the Purifier. We don't have a great number of people. The Wasteland is called The Wasteland for a reason…"

Jackrum bit his lip, staring down at the map. He said, "Lucy, go get that scientist guy from lockup."

The woman nodded and exited immediately.

"We have the purifier." Rothchild suggested.

"No we don't. They do." Jackrum replied shortly, "and we ain't in any position to take it back."

"Enough blood's been spilled over the damned thing. I'm almost tempted to say let them have it…" Glade said.

"Amen." Simms agreed.

"So… what, then? The Enclave already raided that fort up north…"

"Thank god Jason sabotaged all the Nukes." Rothchild said fervently.

Jackrum smiled to himself. From what he'd heard, the Wanderer had left one to go off if mishandled at all. One night some months ago, there had been a bright light a long way off. Every Geiger counter in the wasteland had ticked up a storm for two weeks after.

The door opened and the tall, blond, fidgety doctor was pushed into the room, followed by Lucy, who closed the door behind her.

"Arthur, right?" Jackrum began.

"It's Arcade. Arcade Gannon." The man corrected irritably, adjusting his glasses.

Jackrum chuckled, "I don't care. Tells us about the Legion, Arthur."

The man straightened his lab coat and glared at him, "If you want me to give you more information, then I want Quid Pro Quo."

"Is that… Latin?" Rothchild asked. Glade laid a hand on the grip of his pistol.

"Oh, you can talk like the Legion?" Jackrum inquired, with faux gentility.

"Maybe he's one of'em." Simms said.

"Should we shoot him?" Lucy asked.

Arcade sighed, "Look, this might shock you heathens, but Latin actually predates the Legion by thousands of years. If you want more information, I want some of yours. Let's trade."

Jackrum stared at him for a moment, and then sighed and looked back down at the map. "Simms…"

The Sherriff of Megaton turned to the prisoner and punched him across the face, causing his glasses to fly off into the corner of the room. Simms followed up with heavy blow to the gut, and planted the struggling man's face against the table. No one made a move to help him.

"If you'd like a deal," Jackrum told the struggling prisoner, "I'll give you a good one. Tell us what we need to know, or we'll kill you. If you can't help us, then you're of no use. You and your lady friend Cassidy are just two more mouths to feed. Except you guys aren't Wastelanders at all, which means keeping you fed and watered and healthy is not high on my priority list. Understand? I can order my men to shoot you both. Then we use your body parts as bait to attract molerats and yao guai and wild dogs and things we actually can eat. You are as valuable as you decide to be. Does that sound fair, Arthur?"

Arcade coughed. A shining welt was developing across his cheek. "Fine." He spluttered, spitting blood across the map.

Simms let him go, and he took a moment to collect himself. The Doctor glared around the room, "You people and the Legion deserve each other."

Simms made to hit him again, but Jackrum raised a hand. "We do what we need to survive around here. Keep talking. What do the Legion want with us? Why are they here? Are they after the water purifier? We don't have much of anything."

"The Legion don't use technology. At least… not the ones out west." Arcade said, using his sleeve to pat at his bloody lip. Rothchild reached into his robe and passed the man a handkerchief.

"So what, then? Supplies?"

The doctor shook his head, "they conquer because they can. They're psychopaths. They want glory and power. They move into new territory, take control, and kill anyone who resists them. They cleanse the area by killing all the ghouls, supermutants, deathclaws, and other monsters they can find. Eventually all local men of fighting age are inducted into the Legion's armies. The strongest of the women and children are sold off as slaves and everyone else is just… there to support and supply them. If you can grow crops you can bet they'll plant a centuria here to run a slave plantation and send the food west to the Front." Arcade shrugged, "That's… that's just what they do."

The room was silent. Jackrum pushed off the table to stand up and look the prisoner straight in the eyes, "and that's what we got comin' down the pipe at us?"

"Yeah. Sorry."

"Has anyone ever won?" Glade asked, "Has anyone beaten them?"

"The NCR is holding them off out west right now. Advanced technology. Heavy use of guns and high explosives. They've won a few battles that way, but..."

"But what?" Simms asked.

Arcade sighed, "But… they just keep coming. They're fanatics. Every Legionary soldier is prepared to sacrifice his life for Caesar. They aren't afraid to charge into minigun fire, or risk life and limb. You kill one and two more take his place."

Yet again, the room was filled with grim silence.

"Thank you, Arcade," Jackrum murmured, "you've been very helpful."

The man was escorted out.

Rothchild said, "Jackrum, we need to talk about strategy here…"

"Oh god, don't start with me, Reggie."

"Elder Rothchild, thank you very much." The older man said indignantly, "You have troops. Supplies."

"And innocent men, women and children. Non-combatants. Families." Jackrum shot back, glaring at him, "You know our situation, here. We can't hit and run like you! We provoke them, they'll bring holy hellfire down on this fort. And it sounds like they have the numbers to take it now. If they don't then they will soon. Even meeting with you like this is a risk. You know that."

"Have you contacted the Wanderer?" Glade asked, "we could really use him."

"I put out a radio beacon." Jackrum said, his fingers twitching – god, he needed a cigarette! "No answer yet. And the longer it's going, the higher the chances that the Legion hears it and comes knocking on our door."

"No answer at all?" Glade sounded genuinely surprised.

"I think he's done with us," Jackrum told him, as Lucy looked away, he cheeks growing bright red.

"We don't know where he is. After Megaton and getting kicked out of here, he's checked out. He's done with us…" Jackrum said, "we're alone."

For breakfast, Jessica stopped in once again at Gary's Galley. The atmosphere in the marketplace had changed significantly. Both doors on either end were open, and the smell of fresh air and sea salt filled the space. Wastelanders of all sorts were milling about, as much for the social benefits as for any actual business.

Jessica had sat herself down at a table near the kitchen, where she could see everyone's comings and goings. She was served some fresh cool water, and a plate of bread, fried Brahmin slices, and mirelurk eggs. An adequate breakfast, even if the Brahmin possessed a strange, earthy taste.

As she ate, she listened to a radio, planted on the bar nearby.

"Hellooo capital wasteland, Three-Dog here – speaking for Vox Populi. The voice of the People! Now don't worry, children. I won't keep you from your music too long, but I'm comin' at ya with some neeews! The Legion is once again workin' hard for your safey and security. Your brave boys in red are reaching out to remote communities across the Wasteland, from Girdershade to Canterbury Commons and beyond to give them all the good news.

"A Mirelurk nest on the riverside was cleared out yesterday by a group of Legion soldiers. Two soldiers were sadly killed in the operation, but now the riverside is open once again for caravans and trade. Soon, all the Wasteland will be monster-free!

"Still no sign of that abominable aberration, the Lone Wanderer. Legion soldiers have searched high and low, with no success. Any Wastelanders with information are encouraged to come forward – think cash rewards, people. A room at the Weatherly Hotel. A one-way ticket out west to a better world! Whatever you want. The Legion is generous, and here to help!"

With an angry noise, the bartender reached out and shut the radio off.

"Not a fan?" Jessica asked, cutting into a mirelurk egg.

The blonde woman gave her a suspicious look, "could just use some silence is all..."

Jessica reminded herself that she had been there just the previous evening with a Legion Centurion. The woman probably didn't trust her enough to share her inner thoughts. Jessica said, "I hear the DJ used to be a little different… do you know what happened?" Just making friendly conversation…

The woman blinked, and then gave her a nervous smile, "Well I mean… Three Dog used to like the Wanderer. We all did. I wouldn't have married my husband if it wasn't for him. Now he says the Wanderer is terrible, and so do the new papers the Legion was putting out. I don't understand what changed… I don't know what to believe. I thought the Wanderer was a good guy."

The hair on the back of Jessica's neck prickled, and she twisted in her seat. In the darkness up the stairs on the platform behind her, and she spotted one of the Abominations – either Krupp or Martin, standing at the railing. He had taken off his fedora, to reveal a closely-shaven head, and was observing the entire galley quite closely. As Jessica watched, he glanced in her direction, an ear cocked.

Jessica quickly looked back at the young woman and said, "The Legion is here to help you. The Wanderer is a Savage. Savage men seem good in savage times, but things are better now, and he has no place here." Trust the Legion. They will bring you a better world.

"Yeah…" the barmaid said slowly, "Yeah I guess you're right. Never really thought of it that way before."

"You gotta protect your own." Jessica told her, "That's just how it is…"

"Yeah… Yeah you're right." The woman wandered off to take an order from another customer.

Jessica finished her breakfast and rose to her feet, making her way across the marketplace. She had set herself the goal of exploring Rivet City. She wanted to find the prison cells, and maybe gain some intel. As she walked, she was aware of the Abomination shadowing her from the darkness.

She found a set of stairs on the other side of a portal on the north end of the market, and proceed down, level by level.

Quiet footsteps followed, keeping pace a floor above.

Jessica headed through the nearest portal and entered a maze of tight hallways. People brushed by left and right, heading from one place to another. It became clear that someone somewhere, either Vorenus or Septimus, had informed the Legionaries in Rivet City of who she was – or who she had been, at least. The guards stood aside as she passed and saluted. "Ave. True to Caesar."

It was unsettling, to say the least. Yet Jessica couldn't help but enjoy the sense of power that it brought. She knew the kind of discipline and mad loyalty the Legion fostered in its warriors. These men would die for her if she ordered them to. They would kill for her as well. It was heady feeling.

Not that she wanted any of them to, of course. She didn't want any of them to die. But still…

She stopped one of them and said, "Ave, Centurion. Where are the prisoners kept?"

She had to find Cass and Arcade. And Jericho as well if she could.

"This way, Immune." The Legionary led her through the crowds, and around several corners. She glanced backwards and spotted a fedora amongst the throng behind them.

What would she do once she found her friends? The question had been nagging at her. They needed a way to get back west. Jessica knew she could probably talk the Legion in to giving her safe passage out of the Wasteland, but the moment a Centurion or Legate came along who knew what she had done at Hoover Dam, her good fortune would come to a rapid, sticky end. Krupp and Martin were already suspicious.

No, she couldn't stay with them. She needed to find a way past them. Perhaps they could pose as guards for an independent caravan, get to the Colorado River and sneak across. Perhaps should could find someone to repair one of the long-range Vertibirds and they could simply fly back over the top.

"Here we are, ma'am." The soldier directed her through a short hallway, which was heavily guarded by four Legionaries carrying combat shotguns. They each came to attention and saluted. At the far end was a large, two-story room with a catwalk around the upper floor. An old-world military jet hung suspended from the ceiling. The catwalk was patrolled by more soldiers, with Chinese assault rifles.

The perimeter of the floor below was lined with cages, some large and small. Wastelanders of all kinds were locked inside. The prisoners had been provided with nothing more than buckets to relieve themselves in and the stench was palpable. No one had washed in weeks. Jessica began scanning the cages, searching for a telltale sign of Arcade's white lab coat or Cassidy's rattan cowboy hat. As she watched, a decanus, flanked by four armed guards unlocked one of the larger cages and brought out three raggedy, malnourished ghouls. They moved across the prison floor in a line, with the guards flanking. Jessica stopped them on the catwalk, addressing the decanus.

"Where are you taking these people?"

"Hail, Immune. The abominations are being taken to the flight deck for execution."

Jessica bit back her first question. Asking why would only get her into more trouble.

She addressed one of the ghouls, a female in a torn sundress "What's your name?"

"I'm Carol," The woman rasped, "can you help us? Please help us!" Her arms and chest were bruised. Normally a difficult thing to spot on a ghoul, but Jessica could see the scabs and darker patches underneath the woman's leathery skin.

Jessica turned back to the decanus, "What if they have information?"

The soldier looked confused, "But… they were already interrogated, Ma'am."

"By whom?"

"I did," a voice intoned behind her. Jessica turned, knowing who it belonged to, but dreading the sight of him all the same. The abomination in his dapper pinstripe suit was at the railing, grinning, with his grey skin and dead, milky eyes. "The creatures know nothing. And we are to cleanse the world of their kind."

"And some day that means your kind too, right?" Jessica asked him, smiling pleasantly.

The abomination hissed at her, but she stood her ground, "are you Krupp or Martin? I can't tell you apart."

"Martin."

"Doesn't sound like a Legion name, does it?" she asked, playing for time and trying to think of a way to save the prisoners. Together, she and Martin were blocking the exit.

"It is a cover name. What is your point, Jessica Chase? Are you going to let our soldiers do their duty?"

Jessica turned back to the ghouls. The man behind Carol was wearing a Robco mechanic's jumpsuit. His nametag read Winthrop. He was probably a handyman. And the Legion had handcuffed his hands in front of him.

She said, "what's your name?"

The ghoul glared at him. I'm not telling you a fucking thing!"

The guard behind him rammed the butt of his rifle into the ghoul's stomach, driving him to his knees. Jessica saw her opportunity and took it. She slipped her hand into her pocket, where she always kept a few bobby pins, and knelt down beside him, making sure to block her hands from Martin's view. As the ghoul was already leaning over, the guards couldn't see it when she slipped one of the bobby pins into his hand. She put her other hand on his shoulder and said, not unkindly, "it would be best if you cooperated. We can do this quickly, or make it last. Your choice…"

The ghoul's fist closed over the bobby pin, and he looked up at her in shock.

"Your life is at an end, ghoul." She told him, grabbing him under his shoulder and lifting him back to his feet, "there is no escape. Make your peace with that." She turned back to the Decanus. "Carry on with your assignment, Legionary."

The line continued along the catwalk and through the door. Martin stood aside to let them pass. Jessica gazed at him, steady as a rock. She said, "do you have something to say to me, Mister Martin?"

Pale lips stretched over yellowing teeth. "I am just here to interrogate more prisoners. I have a certain gift."

"I'm sure you do." She stood aside for him, and after he passed, let out a breath she hadn't realized she had been holding.

"I was just wondering, though…" Martin turned back and bared his teeth in what might have been a smile. Jessica's relieved breath died in her throat. He said, "Why would a Legionary Immune be wearing a First Recon NCR beret?"

Jessica stared, working furiously though a range of excuses and counter arguments. She said, "spoils of war."

"Indeed?" The dapper, spidery man grinned at her, "the Legate and Centurion have been here a long time. News from the West is hard to come by. Not so for my brother and I. Enjoy your day, Courier."

The blood drained from Jessica's cheeks as he turned on his heel and walked away. He stepped lightly down the catwalk stairs and into a side room. After a few moments, and protesting prisoner was dragged in behind him and the door closed.

Jessica took a long breath, trying to control her pounding heartbeat. She ripped Boone's beret from her head and stuffed it in a pocket of her sleeveless duster. She felt naked. Exposed, as if her secret were written on her forehead. She half expected an alarm to sound; Legion voices around her to cry out "seize her!" but none came. The prison guards maintained their strict patrols. A cry of agony echoed behind the closed door of the interrogation room, and all prisoners flinched and shifted miserably in their cells.

As Jessica circled, searching the cages, she heard a voice cry out, "Boss! Hey, boss!"

A waving hand caught her eye and she spotted Jericho. He was alone, sitting on his butt in a smaller cage, with his hands around his knees. She descended to the prison floor and made her way over to him.

"Hey boss! Good to see ya!"

"You too!" Jessica replied enthusiastically.

He leaned forward, crawling on his knees to the wall of the cage, and gripped the bars. "Can you get me out of here?"

"Yeah. One second…" Jessica searched the prison for the telltale red plume of a prime decanus. Several desks had been set up at the far end of the room, close to the interrogation chamber door. Soldiers marched back and forth between scribes at the desks and a battery of nearby filing cabinets, tracking the prisoners on paper.

The decanus was a scarred, older man with graying hair and an enormous bald spot. But she could see by his shape and bearing that he was not used to a desk job. Vorenus was no fool. He had put an experienced, loyal man in charge of the prison. The man greeted her as Jessica approached the desk, "Ave, Immune. How goes your morning?"

"Well, thanks." Jessica said, "I'd like to talk to you about releasing a prisoner."

"The Profligate?"

"That man helped me when I arrived here. He is Amicus. Friend of the Legion."

The decanus shook his head, "I apologize, Ma'am. I can only release prisoners on the Legate's authority."

Jessica frowned, "He hasn't passed word down to you yet?"

He gestured at an empty slot in his in-tray, labeled as 'To Be Released'.

Jessica planted her hands on her hips, "I know he intended to. He told me as much."

"Sorry ma'am."

Jessica sighed and tossed her hair. She said, "Look, what's your name?"

"Pontius Lutorius. Decanus of the fourth Contubernium of the twelfth legion,"

"And you're the man in charge?"

He gave her an apologetic look, "Yes. I would rather not get in an argument, but I know my orders. If you can get a signed order from the Legate I will approve his release."

She leaned against his desk and gave him a friendly smile, "Pontius you spend all day taking care of each and every single one of these profligates, dissolutes, abominations and savages. Managing food, rations, the buckets… keeping this whole operation running. I can take one of them off your hands right now." You're a hard-working, honest man. I respect that. Let me make your job a little easier…

The decanus sat back in his chair and glanced over at Jericho, who was watching them carefully. He said, "One less is one less I suppose… and you'd take full responsibility?"

"Absolutely." Jessica promised.

Pontius sat back in his chair for a moment, considering his options. He ran a hand down his beard and said, "alright. Alright fine." He opened his desk and produced a report of some kind which was signed, stamped, and handed over to her. "Present that to the prison guard over there. But both our asses are on the line if he does anything."

She gave him a smile, "I really appreciate it." she bit her lip, "Would you mind if I had a look through your files?"

"Umm… why?" he stared at her.

"I have my own reasons for being here, decanus."

"Looking for someone?"

"Two people. A blond man in a lab coat and a woman in a cowboy hat. She'd have been pretty mouthy. Ring any bells?"

"No. Can't imagine she'd have lasted long if she was, but I don't remember anyone with a cowboy hat." He muttered. He pointed back to the filing cabinets. "Prisoners files are in alphabetical order by last name if you want to have a look. No rule against that."

Jessica thanked him and slid the old filing cabinets open drawer by drawer. There were no entries under Gannon, nor Cassidy, yet Jessica felt her heart sink as she slammed the drawers shut in frustration.

Where were they? She scanned the prison again in vain, hoping aginst how she would suddenly spot Arcade's blonde hair, or hear some of Cassidy's deadpan snark. Yet all she saw were strangers. And Jericho.

At least she could do something about him.

"You have been oddly silent, my friend!" Leo said, picking up a bottle cap which was serving as a checkers piece, and bouncing it over Jason's, capturing two of his. The two of them were seated in the common area of the compound's town hall.

The former Wanderer stared down at the board. "Not much to say."

"I hear you were quite confrontational with our gentleman caller this morning."

Jason stared down at the checkers board, not seeing it, "He threatened us."

"And I'm sure you threatened him back."

"What the hell else was I supposed to do, Leo?"

"Talk?" the Mutant suggested gently, "be diplomatic?"

"Then they would have taken the shirts from our backs!"

"And you could be thankful that they have new shirts."

Jason looked up at the mutant and scowled, "That's your answer, Leo? Just give up? That's stupid."

"It is not giving up…" the Mutant reasoned, "it is just… redefining Victory so that it is always on your terms. One can never lose so long as you decide what Victory is."

"Yeah? Well it sounds a lot like losing, to me." Jason glowered at the board.

The supermutant leaned back in his chair and tilted his head to the side, considering his angry friend. He said, "You may chain my leg."

"What are you talking about?" Jason snapped.

"An ancient philosopher named Epictetus once wrote 'You can chain my leg'."

"Jason picked up a cap and jumped it recklessly into a group of Leo's pieces. "I don't get it."

"You may chain my leg. Epictetus was born a slave." The Mutant jumped Jason's cap and carefully removed it from the board. He continued, "Being a Stoic Philosopher, Epictetus understood that life is sometimes just chaos, and that we do not always get to decide what our fates are. All we can actually control is how we choose to react to that chaos. He knew that if we always made the most virtuous choice in life, then no matter what befell us, we would be good and virtuous and therefore happy. And a man who is satisfied that he has always done the best he could for himself and others will always be happy, no matter what befalls him. Whether he be a free man or a slave. He is able to take all that life throws at him on his own terms. He chooses what Victory is and no one can take that from him."

"Sounds like he was finding excuses not make things better. Not to fight."

Leo said, "I said he was born a slave, my friend. He died a respected Philosopher, school teacher, community leader, and a free man. Just a little food for thought."

Jason stayed silent, staring at the board.

"I heard a broadcast yesterday." Leo said, "Commander Jackrum and the Brotherhood want to talk to you."

"No."

"My friend-"

"No!" Jason snapped. "I'm done with it. Fuck them."

"The Wasteland is still your home, Jason." The mutant chided mildly.

"My home ends at the boundary of that god-damned fence!" Jason jabbed a finger at the door. It suddenly opened, ushering in rays of sunlight and a small amount of dust. Red stepped through, holding a little burbling bundle in her arms, with tiny, waving hands. She balanced her child in one arm and closed the door with the other.

The mutant turned and smiled with joy, "Ahh, young Gabby is here for a visit!"

"She is!" Red replied enthusiastically, "she always loves her uncle Leo!"

The mutant swiveled in his chair, and reached out to receive the infant. He beamed down at the child and said, "Hello little one! And have you been eating properly?"

"Everything I can feed her." Red said, "she's relentless. Every few hours. I have to find a place to sit and pulled the shirt down."

Despite his dour demeanor, Jason managed a smile. He said, "How are you and Shorty doing?"

"Same as yesterday: Exhausted." Red took a seat on the bench beside Leo. She said, "we managed to get her to sleep last night at a decent hour, but we didn't have the energy left to do anything with the free time. Just… slept."

"I commend you both." Leo congratulated, "it takes a lot of work to bring a new life into the world." The Supermutant was cradling the child in his enormous hands, and making faces at her, causing her to giggle uproariously.

"Yeah…" Red's brow furrow, "Actually… Leo, you know I love you, but could I talk to Jason alone please?"

"Of course, of course." Leo smiled down at the infant, "Let us go find you your play blocks, young one! I will teach you the alphabet!" he rose to his feet, the wooden bench beneath him groaning with relief, and then headed upstairs with the child. They had a play pen up there, with mattresses, alphabet blocks, teddy bears, and a toy nuka-cola truck.

Red watching him go, and then turned to Jason, "The others and I had a meeting last night…"

"Yeah I heard." Jason told her.

Red blinked, scowling at him.

"I didn't listen in." he said, "I just… heard you talking when I visited the biffy."

"Oh." Red's scowl vanished, "Well then… thank you. For trusting us, I guess."

Jason's face was impassive. He said, "What's happening, Red?"

"The others and I… we want to…" she started carefully, "Thing is, after yesterday… we… we want to move."

The Wanderer stared. To a casual observer, his face remained passive, but Red had gotten to know his well enough to recognize the small signs: tightening of his jaw beneath his beard, the thinning of his lips, and the way his eyes slightly narrowed.

"Move?" he asked carefully.

"Go north, to be exact."

The former Wanderer stared.

"It's just that… it's clear the Legion is here to stay. Even Three Dog on the radio is with them. I don't know what's north, but if we stay here…"

"This is our home."

"Yeah, well…" Red tried to smile, "home is where the heart is, right? Does it really matter whether it's right here or a little north of here?"

"Red, think this through," Jason replied, trying to keep his voice level, "we have a working water purifier here. Fortifications. Guns and ammunition. Medical supplies. Shorty and Timebomb only just got the crops to grow and you want to move?"

"I just think we should consider our options."

"You just had a kid!" Jason barely managed to stop himself from yelling. His face had grown bright red, and his hands had curled into fists.

"I know. I know…" Red raised her hands, trying to calm him.

"We just got set up, Red!"

"Please, Jason, I know."

He threw himself back into his seat and huffed.

"Just… consider it, would you?" she pleaded, "Look, we can't move without you. And we're always with you, but-"

"Yeah? Well I'm not moving." Jason launched himself to his feet and stomped towards the door. "Stay or go. Do whatever the hell you want, but I'm not giving those bastards another inch! Not one more inch, Red!"

He slammed the door behind him. Upstairs, baby Gabby began to cry.

Red let out a long breath and sat back in her seat. "…fuck."

The floor above creaked, and Leo peered over the Bannister, "That went about as well as it could have, I think."

"I don't like getting yelled at, Leo."

"He's just in a lot of pain right now."

"Doesn't mean he always has to put us through it."

"You know he cares deeply for all of you."

She sighed. "I know…"

"That is all I will say of that. Will you help me calm your child?"

"Yeah… yes." The woman rose wearily to her feet and climbed the stairs, dragging her feet as if they were weighted down.

Leo held out a hand to assist her up the last few steps. "We must take life one day at a time. And choose our battles with care." He patted her on the shoulder.

Red reached up and grabbed his hand, giving it a squeeze. "You're always such a help, Leo. Thank you."