I Can't Help Falling in Love With You

Synopsis: (Continuation of The Way Forward) Gabriel's new employer is vivacious, but dangerous; years later, the quest to track him down gets personal. (Rated M for abuse and implied sexual content.)


Arizona, 2270.

Meg walked with singular purpose. Meg's hair was sandy blonde and tied back tightly. Meg wore her team uniform: black armor with white antlers arcing over the front. As the leader, she had a red cape over her left shoulder that reminded Gabriel of the Legion.

He wondered if she knew that his entire being was now devoted to defending her.

"No fear, chickies," she called as the two of them reached the awaiting mercenaries. "Mama bird brought you back your numnums." She tossed Qavrok's sack of caps before the group.

A mohawked woman bounced it in her hand with glee. "How'd you get the sleaze to cough up?"

"Oh, I have a strong stomach," Meg smiled slyly.

The mercs reacted in disgust; a person masked in a helmet designed to protect from the wind scoffed harshly, and a woman with a short afro and green bandana wrapped around her mouth recoiled.

Meg threw back her head in an exaggerated eyeroll. "Not like that. He didn't get anything from me. Just thought he would. That guy's no threat to us."

A thickly mustached man eyed Meg critically, though he also seemed eager to secure his share. "Where's your cut, Meg?"

"Oh, I got my payout in manpower." She twisted back toward Gabriel and winked cheekily. Her lightheartedness was comforting at a time like this. The future felt cavernous, but he grounded himself in her irreverent amusement.

"Meg," Gabriel said softly, testing the waters. She gave him her attention, and didn't correct his lack of decorum. A good sign. "Qavrok kept prisoners in this base. We should free them."

"Lead the way," she agreed, pleased with the idea. Gabriel didn't quite go so far as to smile, but he finally found himself able to relax.


The rickety deadbolted cell door creaked open for the last time. A single, shared flinch and eight cringing eyes. The smell and the tragedy hit Gabriel every time, but he would never again have to witness it.

Meg cringed at the room's filthiness; try as he might, Gabriel had never been able to keep it entirely clean. "No need to thank me, mortals. You're free to go," she announced grandly.

The prisoners reacted with suspicion before anything else. They glanced at each other, then at Gabriel. Finally, Eileen croaked, "Qavrok...?"

"Rapidly cooling," said the catlike smirk.

They crept into the light slowly, on wobbling legs. Like baby bighorners coming out from shelter after a windstorm. "You mean it?" Xan asked, still highly skeptical. She looked to Gabriel, who nodded solemnly.

Xan looked sideways at Avi. Avi inhaled sharply, on the verge of extreme emotion. Violet didn't seem to be catching the drift. Eileen, once the realization fully hit her, took off running up the hallway, shouting "CATCH YOU NEVER, GIRLS!" Her laughter turned manic and disappeared into the distance.

"You're goin'a get in trouble!" Violet shouted after her. "Goin'a get dropkicked, Eileen~!"

"Where do we go?" Avi muttered, shocked. "What are we g-"

"My team's leaving in five minutes if we're walking. Two if we're going out the door shooting. Be there or be square... I don't care." Meg laughed heartily at her rhyme and pranced away with her bodyguard in tow.


"Sam!" Xan took off from the group and sprinted excitedly toward the mustached mercenary. "You're still in the business?"

"That you, Alexandra?" The old man reached around to pat her back in some approximation of a hug. "Thought you went down the last time we tried to kill this guy."

"We were here to kill him the whole time?" asked the guy in the helmet incredulously.

"Kill who?" Violet wondered.

Meg chuckled. "That was need-to-know. These are the guys who wiped out most of Sammy's old company. Thought we'd pay them a visit when I heard the guy was hiring."

"Stone cold," remarked the mohawk appreciatively.

"Bad for business," grumbled the afro, less appreciatively.

Sam pointed at her with his unlit cigarette. "I don't wanna take a job from anyone who's got a problem with what she did. Guy had a reputation three miles wide. Anyway, we busted out the captives, didn't we?"

"And we got ourselves a new member of the crew," Meg grinned proudly. She thumped Gabriel on the back, knocking him forward. "He's cute, too."

Avi laughed, a habitual tinge of nerves still straining his voice. "Good luck with this one, buddy," he said to Gabriel. "Um, so we should probably get out of here now. They're going to find the body at some point..."

"What body?" Violet insisted, intrigued.

"We really need to work on your context clues, Vi."


They dropped to the sand when Meg determined they'd come a safe distance. They ate what she told them to eat, and slept when she told them to sleep. No one ever seemed to question her orders, least of all Gabriel. She had the sort of energy that made potential challengers hesitate, and the newcomers picked up on it immediately.

When they stopped for the night, the masked man removed his helmet. Gabriel stared, horrified, at the ravaged face he saw in front of him. He'd never been this close to a ghoul without bloodshed, never heard one talk, and he was alarmed. The ghoul turned to him, an eyebrow raised, but Gabriel moved closer to Meg and ignored him for the rest of the night.

Avi finally took Violet aside and explained to her that Qavrok was dead. She howled grief out into the night, and Gabriel wanted to smother her, but she had more right to an opinion on the matter than he did. The group got to sleep quickly despite her periodic bouts of loud mourning.

Gabriel dreamt. His dreams were persistent and usually unpleasant; his subconscious tended to supply the sort of thoughts that stick in the memory, and greet you at the least convenient of times. A spear thrown into flesh, the sound of women crying in unknown languages, the feel of a machete in hand breaking through breastbone. It was all part of him, and he couldn't busy himself away from it at night.

Tonight's dream is made of memory as well. Fragments stitched together from a dozen incidents half-remembered. Gabriel is eight and ten and eleven and fourteen all at once. Caesar's officers hold a meeting over dinner at the legate's house. Gabriel, the legate's only slave, is tasked with waiting on them; women's work, but he's more anxious than ashamed. The officials talk politics, they talk bloodshed. The vigor in their war plans scares the boy, but he can't speak his mind, not here.

"Don't slouch, slave," smirks a centurion, enjoying the way Gabriel straightens and avoids eye contact.

"Don't pout, slave," Master murmurs without looking at Gabriel.

The boy gets angry at him. Master thinks he knows everything. Gabriel flips the table in frustration, but no one reacts, and within a second it rights itself. Only Caesar notices, and he turns his head from his seat at the head of the table to smirk at the powerless little slave. For half a second, his eyes go blank and his face dissolves, becoming tattered and ghoulish, but then he's back to laughing at some cruel joke.

"Get more plates, boy," snaps someone, or maybe everyone. Gabriel scurries away, grateful for the chance to hide from their eyes and their plans and their sharp teeth.

He takes some plates from the cabinet, stacked neatly, but something goes wrong (he can't seem to remember what) and they slide down, down, impossibly far, and shatter on the floor.

Something in the boy's mind shifts, and goes blank. He stands clinging to the counter, unable to react. He's held paralyzed by sleep deprivation, or overwhelming anxiety, or merely conflicting data interfering with each other in his unfinished mental programming. No thoughts come to mind, and he stares at the broken china without comprehension.

Master (monster martyr murder) enters, about to snap at him. Gabriel registers his arrival, but without context, it means nothing. He crouches cautiously to Gabriel's level, his handsome face aged six different ways at once. "What is it?"

The gears of the boy's mind turn minutely, and his line of sight finally focuses on his master. "They fell. I — do not know what to do."

"I didn't train you to panic. What do you need to do?"

"My orders were to bring you plates. Something happened." His knees buckle and he lowers himself to the floor. The legate quickly sweeps away a few shards before he can sit on them.

"There are more plates you could have brought." Master's tone is gentle and coaxing, too low to be heard from the dining room.

"I didn't think you would care about that anymore." Gabriel looks up. Juno appears in the doorway, momentarily, then vanishes, leaving only the imprint of the red X woven brilliantly into her white stola.

"That doesn't matter. It isn't your place to wonder about my priorities."

Gabriel, shamefaced, breaks eye contact to start gathering the shards into a pile.

"You're lucky," Master continues. "No major decisions to make in life. Your job will always be simple: Follow my orders and follow them well."

"It isn't as easy as that," the boy complains.

"Gabriel. Look at me." Gabriel's gaze slides reluctantly to meet his eyes, blue on blue. "Whenever you feel confused or overwhelmed, you always have your orders to fall back on. Even if you disagree, or the situation changes, it isn't your call. You don't need to worry about anything ever again. Understood?"

This logic seems sound, to a child. (To a dream.) "I understand."

The corners of Master's mouth upturn, and he runs a hand fondly over Gabriel's hair. "Good. Get this mess cleaned up, and you're relieved for the night. I need you up early for training tomorrow."

He's gone as soon as he says it, and Gabriel reaches for the broken glass. Blood appears where he touches it, and the blood flows into the image of the cape over Meg's shoulder, fluttering in the wind.

Gabriel awoke shaking. The dream's starkness, its potency, made him retch into the dry of the desert. He ran his fingers through his hair to erase the memory of Joshua Graham's hand.

He looked to Meg, who seemed much more vulnerable in sleep. The contract had been intended to last for exactly one year. When Cassius had relinquished it to Qavrok, the plan had changed — the plates had been broken. Gabriel hadn't stopped or tried to put them back together. He obeyed. He followed orders and followed them well. But he'd never mastered the art of not worrying about it.

The switch from Qavrok to Meg as the center of his world put undue stress on Gabriel's mind. It hurt, felt like whiplash. It had been a similar feeling when the contract was first enacted, and when Cassius signed it over, but it seemed to be more jarring every time it happened.

Gabriel slumped back to the ground, trying to get to sleep without further nightmares. Meg half-woke at the sound of body hitting dirt, and sleepily reached out until her hand found Gabriel's wrist. Satisfied, she fell back asleep.

Broken glass, Gabriel realized, could form beautiful patterns.


Meg held the punching bag in place as Gabriel took his turn. It felt good to let loose, to know that no one was being hurt by his violence. Meg's eyes roved lazily over him, and she commented occasionally on his technique. But mostly, they were silent. Training was companionable, uncomplicated.

Gabriel had worked for the Jackalopes (for Meg) two months now. Sam, the medic, kept the group sane; he was gray-haired and leather-faced, but he treated Meg like his own daughter and made up for in conversation what Gabriel lacked. Frag, unsurprisingly, handled explosives. She was abrasive, but familiar territory. She appreciated Gabriel's combat prowess and had a strong penchant for calling her attacks. Ariel was second-in-command, handled correspondence and potential customers. She had been Meg's best friend since childhood, and was usually the victim of her friend's lost temper. The last mercenary was the pool-playing quartermaster ghoul, Badger Mallory. He and Gabriel had an unsteady relationship, but Gabriel quickly learned that Juno had been right about ghouls — they were just people. He still felt brief fogs of discomfort when he saw the man's face, but he satisfied himself that there was no danger there.

"Gabe!" Meg snapped him back to reality. "You good? You were wailing on that bag like it wronged you."

"I'm fine. Thank you," he said shortly.

"We all get like that. I like to pretend it's my dad."

Gabriel pictured the legate's face on the punching bag, then jabbed a fist at it experimentally. It didn't do anything to soothe the ache in his bones, and he shook the idea from his head.

The tinkling notes of Meg's laughter helped, a little. She faced the world with a smile, and that smile was enough to rip your soul from your body. He liked standing by her side, liked how she would rest an arm on his shoulder, or prop her leg up on his knee when they sat. (And if she did it just a little too often for his comfort, well. It wasn't his place to complain.)

"What do you think, Gabe?" she asked. "Ready for the job on Monday?"

"I'm well prepared for any order you choose to give to me."

"That's what I like to hear." She took a swig of water, smiling throughout. When she broke and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, her smile had twisted oddly. Curiously, maybe. Or dangerously. She handed him the water bottle to drink from, and he did so gladly.

"Kiss me."

Gabriel paused, processing and re-processing. At his hesitation, Meg leaned forward, staring him down with blazing green eyes. This was not within his skill set, and certainly fell outside his comfort zone. But Meg was waiting. Master's advice came back to him as he cradled the back of her neck and closed the distance.


It didn't end there. Pleased with his efforts (but not his technique), Meg took it upon herself to perfect the art. One kiss turned into a hundred. Gabriel obeyed.

It was... exhilarating. Humiliating. Unbearable and wonderful. She let his hair grow long just to run her fingers through it. He traced her back, her arms, until he could have carved them in marble. She always wanted more.

He was aware, though he usually managed to push the knowledge away, that she wasn't really seeing him when they touched. He was... a vessel, for her idea of a man. She controlled his actions, micromanaged. It didn't make him less obsessed with her, but it did put a persistent sickness in the pit of his stomach.

There was a loneliness in it. Gabriel had always worn loneliness just under his armor — as a tribal, as a slave, as a Fiend — but this was the sort of desolation that only appeared in crowded rooms. He was wanted, but not sought. Felt, but not heard. The other mercs began to take notice of the affair, but they knew who paid the caps. They watched it unfold with interest, and said nothing.


She made his heart stop.

Beauty had been in no short supply in Gabriel's life. His mother, Juno, and Audrey had given him enough for a lifetime. (He tried not to think about any of them.) He knew how a single smile could make waking up in the morning worthwhile, how beauty and pain were not only compatible, but synergistic. But he hadn't been prepared for what he was now witnessing.

Meg Taggart, in a white dress salvaged from before the war. On Sam's arm. Walking down a chapel aisle. Walking to him.

She was unbelievable. She was wondrous. She was also forcing Gabriel into marrying her, and he was entirely uncomfortable with it.

It wasn't exactly that he'd said no. She just hadn't asked. Actually, he had asked, under her orders. It was confusing and messy, but he'd pretended not to be conflicted in front of the others. He knew she would just double down if he did, and he'd rather have a happy fake marriage than an unhappy one.

And he really was happy. Not as happy as Meg, but elated all the same. Ariel, officiating, gave a speech about love and commitment. They exchanged vows. (His had been scripted for him, and sounded strange coming from his mouth, but that was alright. The contract had been his marriage vow.) Frag tied a red string around their hands. They kissed, long and true. He carried her through the doorway back to base. The mercs partied all night.

And so Gabriel was married. Not in any legal sense, but that didn't really matter to any of them. The whole thing had been so sudden that he didn't really think of himself as a husband. But Meg did.


The Jackalopes prospered. Meg became well known for killing Qavrok, and word got around. And then word came to roost, with a surprise Fiend attack late in the night.

Gabriel shot out of bed, his gun in his hands and ready to fire within a second. He put himself between Meg and the intruders, and they retreated out their bedroom door. Through the hallways, the others were scuffling with crazed addicts, faring well on their own but unprepared for the reinforcements pounding at the windows.

Gabriel chose targets, spun, and squeezed the trigger. He knew they were here to kill Meg. He wasn't going to let that happen. For some reason, the violence of the moment struck him in the wrong way; he'd been desensitized to killing since he was thirteen, but this felt wrong. Maybe because Avi and Violet had once been Fiends like his attackers, or maybe marriage was turning him soft. Gentle, but not weak. The destruction he wrought this night spoke to that.

Meg appeared beside him, though he wished to push her back into the bedroom, back to shelter. Fiends lay shattered on the floor, and their comrades scrambled over them to escape. Gabriel wanted to go back to bed and leave the mess for morning, but Meg sprinted after them, shouting "What's the matter, creeps? Come all this way just to die? Come back and fight me, radroaches!"

"Meg!" Gabriel grabbed her by the shoulders and held her fast. "You're going to get yourself killed!"

"Let — go — of — me," she hissed in a rage. His arms fell to his sides. She breathed deeply, shuddering. "Didn't think Fiends had much vengeance in 'em."

"That was bad," Mallory muttered. "I don't think they're headed back to Arizona."

"They'll come back, when we're less prepared," Ariel worried.

"Shut up," Meg snapped. "I'm thinking."

"Think harder!" Frag yelped, as Sam cleaned out one of her injuries with alcohol. "They smashed up half the base! Repairs are gonna be through the roof. We're done, that's all. Bye."

"Shut up, Frag," Mallory growled.

"She's right, we can't wage war against the Fiends," Ariel continued. "There are too many of them, and they're so chemmed up that if you don't kill them in one hit, you're dead."

"Shut UP," Meg shouted. "Gabriel, help me think."

He took this to mean "hug me and whisper comforting nonsense in my ear," which was correct. He'd been with Meg for less than a year, but he knew her. The others took the public display of affection as a dismissal and dispersed, muttering and cradling injuries. Meg smiled.


They ran.

It was the only solution Meg could seem to come up with. The rest of them weren't happy, but they didn't have any better ideas. Keeping the crew safe was more important than that torn-up old base.

Meg was upset, though. And when she was upset, she demanded more attention from her husband.

She tore him apart. Abandoned him every day, in flowery words and loving touches. She wanted all of him, and he'd have given it to her, if only he'd been allowed the choice to hold back. But Meg always got what she wanted.

He could have allowed the tide to take him. Given in to her and been satisfied. But he couldn't. Not when every "I love you" was forced from his lips.

She kissed his scars and asked his history, and he told it, piece by piece. Fascinated, she examined each one, then put him back together, but not quite right again. That was okay, though. She filled the empty spaces with herself.

He asked her history too. All she gave him was fragments. She hid herself away and made him feel even lesser. But it was well-balanced, in a way. She knew every moment of his life, but never allowed herself to hear what he thought. He heard everything that she thought but nothing that she was.


"Meg?"

"Mm?"

"Would you love me if not for the contract?"

"What a silly question." She turned her head where it leaned on his shoulder.

He tried to say "I would," but the words wouldn't quite come.

"I think you worry too much, baby," she said sleepily. "I'm right here and I'm not going anywhere." That wasn't what he'd asked.

"If you said you did not, I wouldn't be angry. I want to know," he pleaded. Instead, she smiled flirtatiously and kissed him. He frowned and twisted away. "Not now. Please. I'm trying to discuss this with you."

"It's a stupid conversation," she argued. "Why would I marry you if all I cared about was the contract? It's not like you're perfect, you know — I could have just married a Mister Handy if that's what I wanted." The smile crept back into her face. "He'd argue less."

"Does it matter? You silence me whenever I want to speak like adults."

"That is not true!" She nearing a temper tantrum, which meant an automatic loss for all other parties, so he pressed a kiss to her temple as a show of goodwill. Appeased for the moment, she touched his face. "You're so cute. Kiss me."

A few seconds into the kiss, he realized she was trying to change the subject, and got even more frustrated. "Please stop doing that."

"Kissing you?"

"Ordering me to kiss you."

"You don't want to kiss me?"

"Not when you use it against me." Finally, he was being allowed to make his point. "Do you understand how much power you have, Meg?"

"We've been married since September. I think I get it."

He persisted. "You don't know how you hurt me?"

"I would never hurt you, baby."

"But you do. Please understand."

"I think you're the one who doesn't understand. I pull all the weight in this relationship. You think what you just said didn't hurt me?"

"I want to be the husband you deserve, darling. I cannot be that when you act like this. Let me choose you, Meg."

"Yeah," she scoffed harshly. "Yeah, you'll choose me. Until one day you don't. I'm trying to save us. Stop getting in the way."

"Save us from wh-"

"Hush." She paused until the defeat hit his eyes. "Hush."

And Gabriel spoke no more that night.


Low-voiced and red-faced, Gabriel brought the topic up with the other mercenaries. He'd really rather not have invited anyone else into his private life, but he didn't see another solution.

His comrades reacted with grim smiles and noncommittal, half-amused remarks.

He realized he hadn't expected much else. Gabriel was a big man, Meg was a beautiful woman, and they looked happy together. It was lucky enough that they hadn't laughed him off — Poor you, your gorgeous wife can't get enough of you. Some of us have real problems.

It almost made him guilty, that he felt this way. Compared to the injustices of the Legion, the way Gabriel himself might have treated a wife if he hadn't been demoted to a slave first, it was silliness.

He made a concerted effort to be happy, to carry on and follow orders without inserting his own opinion. Yet the stress ate at him, every day, every mile they treaded east.


When they got to Kansas, they witnessed the biggest thunderstorm they'd ever seen. Meg dragged him by the hand out of their shelter, and together they stared at the dark sky, allowing raindrops to hit their faces. After a lifetime in radiation-wrecked desert climates, it was strange and beautiful.

Thrilled by the sound of thunder, Meg taught him to dance. Water filled their shoes and ran down their backs. They giggled like schoolchildren when he stepped on her feet.

Gabriel picked her up, spun her around, and set her down into a puddle. Shrieking glee, she broke step and kicked water at him, and he responded in kind.

"No you don't!" She yanked him to his knees in the puddle.

Her hair was free for once, and it clung to her face in little waves. Some childish part of him wanted to keep throwing water at her, but a much more adult part chose to kiss her then and there, sopping wet on the pavement. Lightning flashed, but they felt safe.


One day, Gabriel made a mistake that no man should even consider making. He called his wife insane, loudly, to her face. It was true what they said about a woman scorned. Meg had a curious way of carrying out her fury, though.

Life was business as usual, except that Gabriel wasn't allowed to speak. He had never been a very vocal person, not since he'd been transplanted from his native language, but he liked at least having the option. It was so like Meg to take even that from him.

Two days in, Meg decided her husband wasn't getting the picture, so she tied a bandana around his mouth. To Gabriel, it was just another in a series of abuses. To Sam, it was the final straw.

He confronted her in the hallway of the apartment complex where they were staying. "Margaret Taggart!"

Meg turned her head slowly. He'd used her full name, and that got her defensive. All Gabriel (and the others) could do was watch what unfolded.

"Sam," she said mock-flippantly.

"It's gone on long enough, Meg." Sam's jaw was set. He was holding his brimmed hat in his hands.

"What, exactly, am I being accused of?"

"You know full well. Or, you would know if you let yourself know. That boy hasn't done a thing to deserve what you're doing to him."

Meg turned to go back to her room. "That's between me and him."

"Then why're you always cutting him out of the equation?" Sam's words were still reasonable, but they had bite.

Meg looked to her allies for support, but they voiced none. They hadn't been willing to risk Meg's wrath, but neither were they on her side. "It's not up to you. Come on, Gabe."

"Meg."

She refused to face her friend, but Gabriel turned back curiously. Sam's eyes darted to his before he said, "I love you, Meg. You know I took good care of you and your mother. But I won't stand with you anymore, not unless you start making a change."

Meg froze without turning around. It took a lot to give her pause, but this was enough. "Like what?"

"Stop flaunting your power just because you can. Treat Gabriel with respect. Think about someone other than yourself for once." He nestled his hat securely back on his head, trembling. "I love you too much to let you go on like this. Say you're going to try, or I'm leaving tonight."

The threat of losing Sam could break through Meg's pride enough to make her listen. But, evidently, it wasn't enough to make her admit her own faults.


"Sweetie, we're done talking about it."

"I'm begging you. Everything else was minor. You and I were affected and no one else. But this cannot stand." Gabriel's heart beat urgently in his chest.

Meg gave her head a little shake of dismissal. "Glad to hear you've put some thought into it."

"I have thought about nothing else."

"We're gonna be so happy, Gabriel."

"This is not about us."

Meg leaned to his side of the bed to whisper into his ear. "I want to have your baby."

Gabriel sighed, eyes squeezed tight. "I want to give you one. But we cannot be parents. Look at us."

"I'm looking at you. Why aren't you looking at me?"

"Because you are causing me a great deal of stress."

She laughed musically. "It's okay, Gabe. We've got enough love for both of us and one more. Our baby is going to be okay."

"Meg, the moment the child is conceived, we will be responsible for it. I'm not ready for that, and neither are you. Don't do this just because it sounds like fun." Gabriel had been with Cassius's slave as she gave birth. It had been far from fun.

Meg frowned for a second. "Look, there's another reason, and I kind of delayed talking to you about it. If... something were to happen to me, we need a next of kin. To take your contract."

Gabriel cut in. "I don't think that is how that works."

"I know, I know. You'd go back to Graham. But if he died, there'd be no one to return to. So the contract would fall to my next of kin."

Gabriel had never been aware of this concept before. But it sounded legitimate, so he listened.

"So if I outlive him, but you outlive me, the oldest of our children will be able to take care of you."

"...What are the chances of that?"

Meg rolled her eyes. "Well, I'm 23 and he's, what, in his forties? Andhe's an evil warlord — and he doesn't have you watching his back. So, I'd say fifty-fifty that I outlive him but not you."

Gabriel saw her logic, and he wanted to say yes, if only so she didn't have to force him. But his voice couldn't quite say it.

"Come on. Let's be parents. Trust me."

You can't tell me how to feel, he wanted to say. But, in a way, she always had.


Philadelphia.

The city of love, Meg had said. The perfect place to start a life.

Gabriel was terrified of her plans. Even if mercenary work was available here, they had no means to provide a life for a child, least of all a defenseless baby. But Meg was too smart and too stubborn to heed his arguments. He knew she would be, yet he argued anyway. Maybe he was stubborn too.

Her plans, though Gabriel argued, were easier to accept than most of his orders. He knew bringing a child into this world would be wrong, but still... He was happy to be creating instead of destroying, for a change. He adored his wife and knew he'd adore his child too, even if he'd never imagined himself as a parent. Meg drew him into her dreams, gave him her eagerness.

They were welcome in Philadelphia. A charismatic self-proclaimed mayor had invited them to a gathering of influential groups in the city. Meg and Gabriel did the mingling while the other three stayed at home — none of them really liked to socialize. Neither did Gabriel, actually, but he was content to be the muscle behind Meg.

Her face was a picture of serenity. Her orange dress brought out the life in her green eyes. Just seeing her like this made him smile. She brought a Nuka Cola bottle to her lips, then paused. "Gabriel. Drink this for me. I shouldn't have caffeine... not if we're lucky."

His hand slid down to her belly, feeling for some sign of life. Nothing was out of the ordinary, of course; they had just started trying, with no sign yet that their efforts had paid off. Still, he could imagine.

He grabbed the bottle and took a swallow, nearly gagging. It was thick and sweet and lukewarm — nothing Gabriel wanted in a beverage. He didn't understand how Meg and the others could stand this garbage.

She laughed when she noticed his disgust, and watched as he forced down another gulp. "You drama queen," she teased, then capped the bottle and put it in her bag. Gabriel left in search of a sink to relieve his agony.

When he came back, Meg was standing on a table.

"Alright, boys, since I can't get drunk tonight, I'll be revisiting my Nevadan roots in a different way!"

"Is that so? Well, I'll go get the pole!" someone laughed.

Gabriel knocked him unconscious.


Meg, of course, had been talking about gambling. Since no one else in the room could play Caravan (least of all Gabriel), they settled for Texas Hold'em, though one enterprising young woman had recommended Russian Roulette. (Given the demands of the contract, that would have ended with a lot more bloodshed than expected.)

Meg had raised the starter caps for her company in the casinos surrounding New Vegas. Usually, she dominated at gambling. But usually, Meg played drunk.

She was too cautious today. She kept folding. She didn't bluff enough. She got nervous and paid for it. It became clear that she should have left when it started to get bad. But Meg's pride had never before allowed her a graceful loss.

Meg stayed in the game long past the point when players started dropping out. She fell deeper and deeper into the hole, and ignored her husband's pleas to end it.

By midnight, the only other player at the table was a raider boss named Badaboom. He wore a pickelhaube and a fine layer of dirt. If Meg had known beforehand that he was on mentats, then she would never have entered the game, but there weren't any rules in this place, and she was too far in to call foul anyway.

He bullied her relentlessly, taking everything — ammo stock, then explosives, then the guns themselves.

Finally, Meg got the hand she had been waiting for. The problem was, she had nothing left to bet.

"I'll raise you... 300 caps. I'll get it to you in a few weeks if you win."

Badaboom belly laughed over his drink. "Meg, you can't bet what you don't have. Go to bed."

"Hey! I've got four of the finest mercenaries this side of the Missouri with me. We'll make it up." Meg was terrified. Her guys wouldn't be happy when she came home with nothing.

"Not without your weapons, you won't."

"Then give us a grace period. We can work with this."

"That's enough for tonight, I think. I'm cashing out. I'll be at your place to pick it all up in the morning, okay?"

"Wait!" she cried desperately.

"Meg," Gabriel breathed. "We have nothing else."

Conflict played across her face, along with a sheen of sweat. A million mistakes had led to this moment. She made the biggest one yet. "I've got something else. Something worth thousands."

Badaboom lit up with interest. Gabriel couldn't think of what she meant, until — oh.

Oh no.

Out of an inside pocket, Meg retrieved a single, worn piece of parchment. She smoothed it out on the table and explained. "This will give you complete control over—"

"Meg."

She swallowed hard. "Over Gabriel. He'll follow your orders. His skill with a trigger is unmatched. He will do anything you say." She blinked back tears. "Anything."

"Meg. No."

Badaboom had looked skeptical, but Gabriel's terror was all the confirmation he needed. "Is that so? Well then, I'll match."

They negotiated over a fair bid while Gabriel stood petrified. By the end of it, it came down to a question of whether the company (and their marriage) would make itself up over a period of years or simply cease to exist.

Somehow, before the cards hit the table, he knew it would be a royal flush.

"Wait — That's not possible!" Meg shouted. "There's no way — you cheated somehow!"

Gabriel put his head in his hands and tried to breathe evenly.

"Settle down, Meg," said the mayor, watching from another table. "You made a bet, you've gotta honor it."

"It's not possible," she whined on the verge of a sob.

Badaboom moved his feet off the table and leaned forward. He tapped two fingers on the contract, his meaning clear.

"Meg. Love. Don't do this." Gabriel held his shotgun across his front, ready to fight their way out if she gave the order.

"I—"

"Save your tears for later. You owe me some winnings."

"Meg."

Her pen scribbled her name hastily, right under Qavrok's signature from three years ago. Visibly distressed, she slid the page to the raider.

"Meg!"

And then it was over. Badaboom stood up, suppressed a chuckle, and motioned Gabriel forward, contract in hand.

Meg stood, crying. "Gabriel! I'll come back for you. I will. Wait for me, okay?"

Gabriel's employer was calling him. He didn't look back.


"So. Let's start from the beginning."

"Okay. Where do you want me to start?"

"I just said. The beginning."

"I heard you, but like... how far back?"

"You're kind of ruining the moment, David."

"Sorry."

Sage chuckled. "Okay. Just tell it however you want, as long as it ends with me finding Gabriel."

David took a sip of water. He'd been saddened to leave the other captives behind, but he comforted himself with the vertibird's bountiful food stash. "So I guess it all starts about... twenty years ago. I made some stupid decisions. The type of stupid where you don't even remember what it's like not to be stupid, you know? So when my best friend tells me we're starting a gang, I'm like 'where do I sign?' We do this in Arizona because there's no law enforcement to apprehend us. No Legion in the area yet."

"I imagine that didn't last long."

"We thought we could take them. If that gives you any sort of idea of how stupid we were. But Will... he wasn't just stupid. He was evil, all the way through. And I couldn't see it, I—" David paused. He glanced anxiously at the men in the cockpit, who were pretending not to listen.

"Yeah?"

"Well. I was crazy about him. I thought he was so cool... and so tough. You see, I didn't have a lot of friends, being a moron at the time. But when we founded the Fiends, he started giving me a lot of attention. I..." He cleared his throat. "I got the wrong idea."

"I think I'm hearing you."

"Uh-huh. I was in so deep that I didn't even notice when things started getting bad. And then I did notice, but... I didn't care. Chems, they, they make you go blind, and all you want — all you can think about — is your next fix. Well... my chem was Qavrok."

He wiped a tear, and Sage pretended not to notice. She didn't see what this had to do with Gabriel, but she had said to start at the beginning. Anyway, this seemed like something David had been waiting to confess.

"So we started off scavving, moved to stealing chems. Then we got in fights with town guards... then we started raiding caravans... yeah. We were thugs. Then one day they bring in this little girl, sixteen years old. And Will decides she's gonna be his captive. And somehow I'm still too stupid to put a stop to it." His eyes darted to Sage as if asking for condemnation.

"That's very sad."

"It was. And I was upset, but not for the right reasons. I was... jealous. Of her. Isn't that the stupidest thing you've ever heard?"

"It's up there."

"So. Qavrok and I are alone one night. I'm drunk and desperate. So I tell him how I feel... by kissing him."

"A mistake, I'm guessing." Sage closed her eyes and leaned back against the side of the vertibird, meaning to make him feel less scrutinized.

"The worst mistake. Qavrok yells at me, 'What are you, a girl?" I remember that so clearly. And then he pummels me and sends me to the dungeon with his other captive. And... well, he basically pretends I'm female from then on. I got hurt pretty permanently. I don't... really want to talk about that."

"That's up to you."

"Anyway, he got worse, took more captives. And then Gabriel comes along. We figured out pretty quickly that he was brainwashed to follow Qavrok's orders. I'm not sure how, or why. He was our warden. Kept us alive, pretty much. He didn't wanna be there any more than we did, so we sort of became friends. Maybe not 'friends,' exactly, but he did care about us. So then Meg came along."

"Yes?"

"Well, I don't know all the details. She killed Qavrok and let us go free. Somehow Gabriel was following her orders... maybe he follows whoever kills the old guy?"

"Not exactly, but continue."

"Anyway, we leave with Meg and her gang, the Jackalopes. Uh, they were nice enough, I guess... Now that I think about it, I don't have much more to give you. Xan knew one of the Jackalopes, maybe she could tell you more."

"She said she wouldn't talk to me. Maybe now that I've helped you she'll change her tune."

"Sorry. She's very stubborn."

"What happened after that?"

"Long story long, they left us in some town in Arizona and we tried to start a life together. Xan, Violet, and me. Tried to open a brewery, but it didn't work out. By that point, our priorities were so different that we had to part ways. Xan wanted to reclaim her life, so she tried to join back up with another mercenary group. Qavrok took too much out of her, though, so she went west and started her own company. Me, I just wanted peace. Went up to New Canaan and found it, until, well, you know. Violet..." He sighed. "She has trouble with impulse control. Last I heard, she went back to the Fiends."

Sage heard Arcade hiss uncomfortably. She supposed it was time. "David... I've got something to tell you about Violet."

That was all it took for David to understand. The realization hit and he nodded. He curled his knees under himself. "How'd it happen?" he asked hollowly.

"She'd been going after NCR troopers. They sent a bounty hunter to... make it safe."

David turned his misty eyes on Sage, recognizing something in her tone. "So what did you do?"

Unable to continue hiding in the third person, Sage continued. "I have this weird quality about me. Sometimes animals just run to my aid. It's not something I control. Violet was surrounded by her dogs, and she started shooting when she saw us coming. The dogs... did my job for me."

David grieved quietly for a moment. "She was probably so chemmed up when it h-happened that she didn't feel anything. She loved dogs. Maybe didn't understand what was going on, just knew she had her dogs with her. That was — that was good. She was an optimist."

These were pretty wild assumptions, but he certainly knew Violet better than Sage had. "I think you're right."

David laughed softly, until his quiet giggles gave way to sobbing.


"My people. Captive," Joshua grumbled. "This cannot stand."

"Like I said, we're working on it," muttered Sage, mildly annoyed. She didn't know why; she'd expected him to be angry. Maybe it was the Three Marys in the back of her mind.

"We were treated well under the circumstances," David advocated sheepishly. "I agree that something needs to be done, but it's not urgent enough to create an... incident." He trailed off as if he were thinking along the same lines as Sage.

"They'll need a missionary," Abraham spoke up. All the heads in Sage's dining room turned to him at once. "Someone to coordinate from the New Canaanite side. And someone to bring the light... if I can."

"Father, no!" Daniel blurted. "They don't recognize peace — they'll kill you."

By his side, Hannah wrapped her arms around herself. "Please don't go, Father. I need you here. I can't raise Hope alone."

Abraham looked grim. "I hope to be back to you soon, and to get the others out too. We'll all be better off for it in the long run, the White Legs especially."

This was the wrong thing to say. Joshua, enraged beyond measure, marched up to his brother-in-law and seethed, "You would prioritize your own family below those who would seek to destroy them? You would consort with the man who murdered your wife?"

"I'm trying to do what's best for every-"

"No. You dishonor your people. You dishonor my sister."

Daniel, unwilling to hear his parents spoken of that way, stepped forward, but Joshua was already on his way to the elevator. "The White Legs have made themselves an active threat to us." He pulled out his pistol and loaded it half-consciously, as if there were hordes of White Legs just outside. "The men and women they've captured will be free... there will be no compromise."

"Joshua, stop!" Sage called, running after him into the entryway. "It's not like that, Ulysses is handling it—"

Joshua paused, still holding his gun in both hands. "Ulysses?"

"I — didn't mean to say that," she stuttered. "It's not what you think."

"No. You truly stand for nothing, don't you?" he hissed. Sage felt her defenses rising. She would not be talked down to. "You coward. You knew him. You worked with him. After I trusted you—"

"Trusted me?" Sage growled suddenly. "When, exactly? I've earned your trust, yeah, but have you ever really given it to me? I did your dirty work in Zion, then involved myself in a war solely on your word, and you ran ahead without me. Silly me, though, I stayed with you until the end. Then you show up asking for shelter for your family and I give it to you. You ask me to bring Juno back and I do it — at great personal cost — but you have to be there micromanaging me the whole time, don't you? You get into fights with my guys after I tell you they're trustworthy. And now I'm running all around the world trying to find the kid who you abandoned. I run into a problem with that and try to solve it, at even more cost to myself, and hopefully with no further loss of life. But you aren't satisfied with my way. And now you're gonna insult me because I know Ulysses, the only person alive who maybe gets me, and the guy who's currently working to set your people free. Well, that's fine, because I'm done caring what you think. I'm finished with you."

She stepped back, surprised that everyone had let her speak that long. Joshua stood before her, Daniel farther back, Veronica lurking in a corner, Hannah and Abraham in the kitchen doorway. David was still inside, opting out of the drama. They all looked at her, waiting for the coup de grace.

Yes Man, without being asked, gave her an escape. She backed into the opened elevator, and fled the scene.


Sage was in New Vegas as little as possible for the ensuing weeks, ensuring that she would not have to come face-to-face with Joshua Graham. As expected, he didn't hike by himself back to Utah as he'd threatened. Good thing; a fight between Ulysses and the Burned Man was not something Sage wanted to witness.

She spent the time scavving, breaking up minor disputes, doing errands for her constituents, and generally trying to fulfill her duties as mayor. As promised, she increased donations of caps and supplies to the Followers in exchange for their agreement. Arcade stayed at Old Mormon Fort to help negotiate.

Without him, Sage was at an impasse in her quest to find Gabriel, so she stayed in the Big MT trying to find more resources. She enjoyed the opportunity to decompress. Appliances made good company when humans were being stupid.

Sage didn't intend to give up looking for Gabriel, despite what she'd implied to Joshua. But David's request loomed large in her mind.

Don't let him get hurt.

For the first time, she began to wonder if that was even possible.


"So, Ms. Oleastro. Ready to tell us something?"

"Hm," Alexandra considered, toying lazily with the handle of her desk drawer. "I didn't expect you to get Avi out of a bad situation... I guess it warrants my information."

"I should hope so," Arcade scoffed. "We've been working nonstop to make this whole thing work out. I need a vacation."

"It's not all it's cracked up to be," drawled Blake, the cowboy. "I just wanna get back to my brahmin."

Sage very intentionally didn't look at him. "So? That's a yes? Where is Meg?"

"Well, I dunno where she's at. But I know who might. Devon, would you get me my address book?" Alexandra called. "Ah, he's taking a smoke break. Freaking Devon. Blake, get me my address book."

"How'm I supposed to know where your address book is?"

"It's just — Oh, yeah, it's in my desk." She grabbed the address book out of the drawer, flipped to a page, and pointed it out. "Here. Sam. No last name, far as I know. But this'll take you to him.

Sage input the info into her Pip-Boy. "I can't thank you enough for your help, Alexandra."

"Yeah, yeah." She leaned back in her office chair, grabbed Blake's hat from him, and covered her face with it. "That's what people say when they don't wanna pay me."


Mr. Sam lived comfortably in a little house in California with his two dogs. He grew and sold mutfruit for a living, and did a bit of medical training for neighbors.

He was nearly seventy, but wrinklier than his age. He didn't ask why Sage and Arcade were there until he'd served them some coffee (the original offer had been whiskey).

"We're actually here on the word of a friend of yours. Alexandra." Sage sipped her coffee.

"You mean it? How's my girl?" he chortled. Time, rads, and alcohol seemed to have done a number on his brain, but his smile was unharmed.

"She seems... prosperous. I didn't stop to get to know her much. We're on the trail of someone she says you knew."

Sam looked a little less jovial. He swirled his hip flask, listening to liquid against metal. "That so?"

Sage gentled her tone, trying to smooth over the drama before it happened. "Did you know a Gabriel? A little over a decade ago?"

"Yeah." He swigged. "I knew the poor kid. A disaster, that whole thing. I should have handled it from the beginning, but... ah. Meg never listened to me anyway."

"Maybe if you'd stay sober until you're done testifying?" ventured Arcade.

Sam looked him straight in the eyes and downed another gulp.

"Where is Meg now?" Sage asked.

"I don't know where she is, but I know where she was going. We broke off in Missouri, or thereabouts. Waited for a cross-continental caravan to come my way, and headed home alone."

"What made you do that?"

The ghost of a sad little smile crossed Sam's lips. "At some point she decided that she and Gabriel were gonna get married. Somehow we all convinced ourselves that he was onboard with it, but I guess I couldn't ignore anymore that he wasn't." He found the flask empty and set it on the table. "Just wasn't right. You know how it is... if you love something, let it go. Never comes back, then it wasn't yours to love."

"So where are they now?" Sage pressed.

"If you wanna find her, start in Philly. That's where they were headed." Sam scratched one of his dogs on the head, slowly blanking out. "See if you can succeed where I failed."


Philly, Sage learned, was all the way across the former United States. Brotherhood territory, she was informed, which intrigued her. They brought Veronica along, and Boone for extra backup. They didn't tell anyone where they were going.

The town was bomb-scarred, but inhabited. It took some asking around to find Meg; for one thing, no one had heard of the Jackalopes, an unpleasant sign. The name Meg Taggart got mostly blank stares too, until someone was able to give coordinates.

"Think he'll be here?" Veronica asked. "Feels like we've been over a lot of stepping stones so far... or, you have, at least." She flashed a lighthearted smile.

"I almost hope not," said Sage, looking uncomfortably at Meg's little house. "Meg sounds kind of crazy. This is going to be a lot easier if we don't have to do the work of getting her to come west with us."

"What would happen then?"

"Well..." Sage hesitated. "We'd have to convince her Joshua isn't going to invalidate the contract. Then he'd probably invalidate it anyway, unless Sam was really off the mark."

"Isn't that, like... lying?" the scribe probed.

Sage bit her lip. "What Joshua does isn't my responsibility. For our part, we just have to do what's best for Gabriel."

"This compromises the Codex in so many ways," Veronica muttered unhappily, knocking on the door before she could delay any more.

Meg answered, squinting into the midmorning sun. Her hair was in a messy bun atop her head, and she wore loose clothing that looked slept-in. She didn't invite them inside. "What's up?"

"Hiya," Sage greeted. "Are you Meg Taggart?"

"Are you from the Brotherhood?" she asked critically.

Sage said "No" at the same time Veronica said "Yes!"

Sage bared her teeth in a grimace masquerading as a grin. "Well, yes. But we're here on personal business."

"Better than the alternative, I guess," Meg said, speaking to some point off in the distance.

"We're here about Gabriel."

Meg suddenly clutched the doorframe and leaned to them. "Where is he? Is he okay?"

"Well..." Veronica said slowly, "that's what we were here to ask..."

"Oh." Meg composed herself. "Well, I haven't seen him in ten years, and you can tell that to whoever you're working for." She backed up and attempted to close the door on them.

"Meg." Sage shoved her armored shoulder into the door and forced it open. "Where is he now?"

"Why? You need your own bodyguard, knighty?"

"I'm a paladin," Sage corrected her.

Veronica's head popped in from behind the door. "Like we said, Miss Taggart, this is personal, not business. We want to help the guy."

"Hm," Meg contemplated. "So... you could take him away from Badaboom?"

"Uh. Badaboom?"

"He's a raider," she continued. "He was living in DC last I heard, but he must have gotten out during the war. He's not stupid. If I had to guess, I'd say... New York? Wears one of those old war helmets with the spikes. If you find him, get the contract."

"We can't bring it back to you," Sage clarified cautiously.

"Oh, I know," said Meg. "Whoever you're working for, I don't care. Just as long as Badaboom can't have him."

Sage and Veronica shared a look.

"Well, thanks for your time."


AN: So I was playing Broken Steel for the first time today and I found a ghoul named Badger wearing a stormchaser hat. I had no idea this character existed when I wrote him in; I did update his description accordingly, though, and I'm still stunned by the coincidence. Luckily, his appearance reminded me that I needed to update tonight, so my hiatus is finally over.

2262-
Protective Custody
2263-2265 -
2266 -
January - Distance, No More
October - Power and Beauty
2267-
2268-
Ensnared
The Way Forward begins
2269-
2270-
The Way Forward ends
I Can't Help Falling in Love With You begins
2271-2273 -
2274-
I Can't Help Falling in Love With You ends
2275-2276 -
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)
June - Guide Her Through the Night
Bitter Springs
September - Project Purity activates
November - Human Capital
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
July - Mercury's Messenger
August - Safe Haven
September - Power and Beauty (pt. 2)/East and West begins
October - East and West ends