No More

Synopsis: (Continuation of Distance) Life in the Legion is tough for a boy with a good heart. (T)


Flagstaff, January 2266.

An hour and forty minutes was far from enough sleep for a growing boy. But the bracelets were made — 24 of them, more than enough to feel like an accomplishment.

Gabriel took the opportunity to sleep during his lunch break. Afterwards, he complained of pain from his wound and asked to be sent to the healers. Master informed him that he knew exactly what he was up to, but let him visit anyway.

Gabriel had gotten into hot water before for injuring himself just to spend time in the healers' building. It was pleasantly warm and got little attention from its overseer, who didn't much care for childbirth or vomit. All the healer girls would coo and cluck sympathetically over whatever new injuries he showed up with, occasionally making comments on his bravery. He had several friends from previous visits, the only people his age he was in contact with.

Amiticia replaced his stitches with a much gentler hand than Master's. Gabriel had been trained to be silent during these procedures, but he hissed gratuitously, drawing sad little humming noises from the slave girl.

"Poor Gabriel. They're so cruel to you."

"Who, the deathclaw? We were in his house. I think I was crueler to him."

"The soldiers your age are still sparring with blunted machetes. And they've got you out there fighting monsters." She wiped away a spot of blood and pulled his shirt down over his back. "I've finished the stitches."

Gabriel sat up, taking a drink of water to give his nerves a chance to stop jangling. "I can survive much more than this, Ami. It isn't the fighting that I hate."

"Then what is it?"

"The solitude." He threw her his most tragic expression, watching for a reaction.

"Of course. All you have is the legatus. That's such a shame."

"And Rex," he reminded her. He may have been garnering sympathy, but he wasn't about to forget his dog. He pulled his shirt back on and changed the subject. "Ami. I have payment for you this time."

"I... what? I'm a slave. And you're a slave. No one is paying anybody."

Gabriel pulled the blanket off the nearest sickbed and draped it over himself and Amiticia, shrouding them both in near darkness. She pulled away, amused but cautious. He stilled her. "Look."

He pulled out one of the bracelets. They still glowed, even though they were beginning to dry up. He couldn't see Ami very well in the dim lighting, but he could tell her lovely eyes were wide with wonder. "Where did you get this?" she asked.

"I made it. Would you like one?"

She huffed an awed laugh. "Yes!"

"Good." Gabriel handed her the bracelet and two others. He considered folding a hand over hers while he was at it, but didn't. "Give them to Leto and Erica."

Amiticia beamed. "I will. Thank you."


The next day ended with an inspection of new captures. A village within the Legion's borders had begun to stir up dissent, and so a tenth of their citizens had been taken as retribution. Joshua knew this was how the Legion grew, mere labor pains. But to Gabriel, these events were flashbacks and cruelty and fear.

Joshua pitied the unfortunate villagers, but the town had brought this on itself. It had lived under the Legion's protection for over a decade, and then it bit the hand that fed it. Sometimes an example had to be made.

All Gabriel saw was the suffering.

Joshua's job was to stand beside Edward and induct new men into the Legion. Gabriel's job was to stand beside Joshua and intercept potential runaways. Between his youth and his own status as a slave, the captures trusted him. Since he'd started helping, they'd had to blow half as many collars.

Joshua had named him after an angel for a reason.

These inspections got harder as Gabriel got older. For one thing, he was beginning to question whether it was truly better to spare the captures a quick and painless death by bomb collar, and instead subject them to a life of slavery or warfare. For another, though they were there to induct the men, women would often cut and run from their own inspections, straight past the flimsy divider and into their area.

Gabriel was of the age where he was beginning to take notice of the women he had to chase down. The fact that they wore only slave collars had become distracting. It was harder for him to do his job when he was busy respectfully averting his gaze. He was unprepared for the thoughts and feelings that came after, and Joshua was equally ill-prepared to help.

The boy was well and truly growing up. Joshua knew he would be proud of the man his apprentice was to become, despite his best efforts at detachment. But thirteen was an uncomfortable age, in New Canaan, in the tribes, and certainly in the Legion, where there were no parents to guide you. Poor Gabriel, handsome but still awaiting a growth spurt, flirtatious without really knowing what flirting was. He was manageable now, but the moment he realized how the slave girls looked at him, it was all over.

One such escapee now darted blind through the curtain and into their area. She froze, terrified to see that the coast was far from clear.

Gabriel tackled her to the ground before any of the other guards could, with their lecherous eyes. She curled up defensively, chest heaving, but Gabriel made eye contact and said, "Don't worry about the men. They do this often."

"Is that supposed to be comforting?"

He shrugged, the hint of a casual smile on his lips. "It comforts some people. My name is Gabriel. I'm a slave too." He held out a hand to shake, but she wasn't willing to release either arm from their stranglehold around herself.

He always used that line, that he was a slave too. It helped, for some reason. A show of solidarity, even though there was absolutely nothing he could do for them.

"I have something for you." He took out a bracelet to show her. Its glow caught her curiosity. Anything to take her focus off the hugeness of her situation. "I know the Legion hasn't been as welcoming as it should be. But this is for you."

"Th-thanks."

"You're welcome. If they try to take it from you, tell them the legate gave his approval."

The soldiers hauled her up and marched her back to her inspection as she tied the cord around her wrist. Gabriel looked back to see the legate's disapproving frown, probably due to that last comment.

The apprentice fell back into position at his master's side, all traces of a smile gone.


As the Legion prospered, so did its soldiers. The legate marveled at how they had managed to turn a gaggle of scrawny tribals into battalions of hardened warriors within twenty years. Even this contubernium of fourteen-year-olds, not yet assigned to active duty, were proof that it was all worth it. Or, someday it would be.

That is, excluding the elephant in the room. One boy, despite his best efforts, had not managed to keep pace with his comrades. Something in him just wasn't functioning at peak efficiency. The cruelest thing would be to allow him to fight: a death sentence to the boy, a danger to his brothers, and a potential blow to the Legion as a whole.

Joshua didn't expect the young soldier to understand that. He didn't look at him as he gave the order.

His instructor nodded stoically. The trainee was to be made a slave, for his own good and the good of the Legion. A tough call, but no different from the dozens of others Joshua had to make every day. The trainer sent another recruit to fetch the auctioneer, and sent the underperforming soldier to wait in a side room while his fate was sealed.

The boy was trembling. Gabriel stared after him, grim. Joshua sensed his apprentice's deep displeasure with the incident. "Stay with him," he murmured. Gabriel nodded and followed the older boy. Joshua knew he could handle this one.


The young soldier was flattened against a wall, staring at nothing and just short of hyperventilation. Gabriel entered and stood quietly on the edge of his field of vision.

"What are you doing here?" The recruit asked, breathless.

"Master sent me. In case you get violent, perhaps." After a moment of being ignored, he asked, "What is your name?"

"I have — no name — yet." The recruit flinched as he realized there was no "yet," as he wouldn't be performing any deeds of valor worthy of a name. "I am called Quintus. The fifth of my contubernium."

"My name is Gabriel."

"I know."

"Notorious me."

Quintus smiled anxiously. "Will you tell me what it's like to be a slave?"

"I prefer it to being a soldier, at least," he said. Because the soldiers are barbarians and idiots, he didn't say.

"Really?" Quintus asked. "But — your situation is... different. You're in an officer's household, and the legate loves you more than anything—"

Gabriel laughed out loud at that, shocked. "Whoever told you that needs to be barred from combat. He has taken too many blows to the head."

Quintus shrugged, embarrassed. "Everyone says it."

"We were not discussing me, anyway," Gabriel mumbled.

"Right," Quintus said, grasping at the subject change. "What do you think will happen to me?"

"Well... male slaves are rarely bought. That means you will belong to Caesar."

Quintus nodded, apparently finding that a comfort. Gabriel disdained it, but didn't deny him the relief.

"So... likely, you will be sent east. To the farms."

Quintus wrinkled his nose. "Feeding the soldiers? That's women's work."

"Hardly. I hear it's dire labor. Luckily you've trained."

"Trained to be useless," Quintus growled miserably.

Gabriel tried to placate him. "The Legion could go another year without conquest. Not without food. Here." He pulled out two of his bracelets. "Look. These glow in the dark, see?"

Quintus took the new subject change in stride, holding the bracelets up to his eye with his hand to block them from the light. "Amazing..."

"It is. Keep one. The other, give to my mother if they send you east."

"Your... mother?" The recruit, like most, had been in the Legion from a young age. He had no concept of family, no memories of his own mother.

"Yes. She is short. In her forties. She has red hair, like mine. And... her cheek is branded with the letter I."

"An insurgent."

"She was. So was I," Gabriel confirmed. "I would be branded myself, but I was intended to be executed instead."

"Right. But the legate spared you for Caesar's... experiment."

Gabriel felt himself flinch, just a little. There was no need to discuss it any further. At that moment, the auctioneer entered, flanked by Quintus's instructor.

"This is your refuse, hm? He'll do. Come on, runt," barked the auctioneer. Quintus exhaled, shuddering, and followed.

"Don't forget!" Gabriel called.

"I won't."

Gabriel had done all he could. He returned to his master.


Joshua Graham's ultimate nemesis was paperwork. The Legion began keeping tabs on its members about a decade ago to prevent accidental incest (which failed, because no soldier looks up the family history of the slave he's plucked off the street that night. There was enough new blood now that it didn't matter anymore). Edward had become an aggressive bookkeeper, and he expected Joshua to keep up with him.

Joshua was a man of simplicity, so he surrounded himself with a few small comforts: a fire, Rex at his feet, the sound of Gabriel sharpening his machete behind him. It got him into the right headspace for this unbearable banality. He wished he could teach Gabriel to do the paperwork for him, but the boy could barely read, and it wasn't slaves' work, anyway.

"What are you working on?" Gabriel appeared beside him.

Joshua waved his hand dismissively. "Funds and such."

"Who are we buying from?" Gabriel pressed, staring over his shoulder at the documents.

"What do you want?"

"Well. I have given away most of my bracelets. I want to give one to you before I have none left." He dangled one over Joshua's workstation, expecting him to take it.

Rex headbutted Gabriel's leg, asking for attention. He crouched to oblige.

"I appreciate the offer," said Joshua. "But you don't have to." Naturally, Gabriel felt obligated to give his master one of the bracelets. But Joshua saw that he was using them to comfort people, and knew how much that meant to him. He didn't want the boy to waste one just because he felt like he should.

"Oh. Very well." Gabriel withdrew the bracelet. "Would you like one, Rex? You would look very handsome, but I think Caesar would ask questions."

Joshua shook his head and got back to work.


So Master had rejected his offer. Gabriel felt chastised. It wasn't that the legate had been rude, but Gabriel had debated for a long time whether he was going to make the offer. It was the one tiny corner of the world that he had power over. He could have withheld it from the man who owned every part of his life. But he realized that he didn't want to.

Beneath the strict discipline and the harsh training, beneath the battles, beneath the deepest reserves of resentment in Gabriel's soul... he felt something approaching... fondness... for his teacher.

A proud (failed) insurgent, Gabriel was loath to admit any accord with the status quo. He hated the Legion, and he especially hated Caesar. A lot. But Master...

Even with his cruelty, his sarcasm, his willful ignorance, and his slavish devotion to that pig in the laurels... even then, he was a man worthy of respect, at least. He wasn't an animal like the soldiers; he was an artist, and his medium was blood. His skill with a .45 was unmatched. He was unflappable, braver than any man Gabriel had ever known. And he had spared Gabriel from execution, even if it was to serve a... different purpose.

Despite the complicated nature of their relationship, the two had a rapport that ran deep. Not that Quintus's remark about their relationship wasn't laughable, but still. Gabriel had to wonder what had given "everyone" that impression.

He was still stinging about the bracelet.


Gabriel had one more bracelet, and he didn't know what to do with it

He considered just giving it to Rex, but he had worked too hard to endanger his creation like that, no matter how much he loved Caesar's dog.

He considered giving it to Vulpes Inculta, in hopes that he would be spotted in the glow while scouting and left dead in a ditch. That ran the risk, though, that Vulpes would actually like it, and not die, which wasn't one Gabriel was willing to take.

He considered burning it ceremonially, but couldn't figure out a proper metaphor for the situation.

He considered seeking out his former contubernium, but they no doubt hated him, and he wasn't sure he'd recognize their faces if he saw them now.

He considered just keeping it —

Gabriel took a solid blow to the stomach and doubled over, winded. Master ended their sparring match, unwrapping his hands.

"You're not usually this unfocused. What's the matter with you?"

Gabriel rubbed his side, frowning. "I was thinking about what to do with my last bracelet."

"You took a hit for that? Such a small thing to be preoccupied with."

"For someone of your stature, maybe. I am but a lowly slave."

Master scoffed lightly at his sarcasm. "Would it resolve the issue if I accepted your earlier offer?"

"It would not, if you do not want it," Gabriel muttered, icy. He'd worked hard on those bracelets. They deserved more esteem than that.

"Do you want me to take it?" Master rephrased pointedly.

Gabriel wanted to lie, but that option had been taken from him long ago. The words left his mouth of their own accord. "Yes. I wanted to give it to you."

"I didn't realize," said Master. "I thought your offer was a formality."

"No." Gabriel felt embarrassed that they were wasting breath resolving this of all things. "I want you to have it."

"In that case, I accept. If the offer still stands, that is."

Gabriel immediately handed him the last bracelet, wide-eyed. He blushed as red as his hair, realizing he was being completely overeager. But the legate had just accepted more than a bunch of reeds, and, knowing him, he understood that. It was Gabriel's way of telling him, 'Even though I suffer sometimes, even though I have no choice in the matter, I'm glad that I'm your apprentice.'

The corners of Legate's mouth tightened in his version of a smile. "If you don't mind, though, I think I'd rather call it a wristband."

"What? Why?"

"I don't know if you know this, but bracelets are traditionally worn by women."

"Impossible."

"I'm fairly certain."

"Where did you hear that?"

"It's common knowledge, Gabriel." He chuckled. Was Gabriel imagining the fondness in his laugh, or had he just never noticed it before now?

He didn't know. He didn't need to know. For now, he laughed alongside his master.


A gasp in the dark. A sleeping body shot upright, framed by hazy starlight. Hands clutched dirt; teeth bit lip to quell the remnants of panic, and to avoid waking up the woman sleeping nearby.

The boy, who was no longer Gabriel, and no longer a boy (some would say no longer a man), chased away the painful dream with quick, deep breaths. The warm memory had become an inferno in hindsight.

He was no longer a slave, because he no longer had a master. His master was dead, murdered six years ago by a man who never should have been trusted. He was no longer a slave, but neither was he free.

"Everything okay?" asked the woman, who was no longer asleep, no longer the girl she had been when they'd met.

Hands that no longer remembered how to weave passed over eyes that were no longer blue. "Fine," murmured a voice that was no longer youthful nor comforting. "Just nightmares."

"Anything you wanna talk about?"

"No."

"Okay," Aniss said softly. "Go back to sleep, Charon."

And he obeyed.

He always obeyed.


2266 -
January - Distance, No More
2267-2276 -
2277 -
January - Sage destroys the Divide
February - First Battle of Hoover Dam
July - The Mummy Returns
August 17 - Aniss leaves Vault 101
The Prodigal Son
September - To Set the Record Straight
November - The Burned Man Walks
2278 -
April - James dies (Purity War begins)
Bitter Springs
September - Project Purity activates
2279 -
Adams Air Force Base (Purity War ends)
2280 -
May - Dogmeat's Vacation
August - Boones are married
2281 -
New Canaan is destroyed
October 11 - Sage is shot in the head
October 19 - Sage wakes up
2282 -
ED-E, My Bud
2283 -
January - Second Battle of Hoover Dam
February - To Have and To Hold
April - Awake, O Sleeper
May - Worst-Case Scenario