falloutkinkmeme_backup | Fallout Kink Meme Part IV: Closed to prompts, open for fills.

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Fallout Kink Meme Part IV: Closed to prompts, open for fills.

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CONTENT WARNING: None

“Mmm. Siri. Doc.”

Siri looks up from where she’s inventorying her doctor’s bag. Lucinda stands in front of her, off to one side, hands folded behind her back. Keeps the textbooks hidden, even if it’s straining her arms and her bird is unhappy with being jostled.

“Are you going to call me ‘Doc’ now too?”

“I’ll call you whatever you want me to.” She swings the books out from behind her back, thumps them hard into her hands. It’s a stretch, they’re both thick books, and they don’t fit nicely across her palms. She waggles them at Siri, won’t show the front covers. “I brought you a present.”

“Oh?” Siri scoops up her supplies and shoves them back into her bag in a haphazard mess, before she stands, then leans back down to beat dust off her shins.

“Yeah,” Lucinda agrees, flips the books around, first one way, then the other, so they rest against her breastbone, balanced on her hands and wrists. Siri stands and rests the backs of her wrists on her hips, surveys the books. “I remembered what you said. I couldn’t find you an actual doctor, but I thought maybe these were a close second.”

Siri holds out her hands, and Lucinda gently sets the books in them. Siri turns them, looks the mover, doesn’t say anything. Lucinda bounces on the balls of her feet, tries to listen for the rest of the team so she can stop if they can see.

“Are they alright? Are they the right books?” Lucinda asks. “They looked medical and I couldn’t understand anything in the first chapter or so,” she laughs, ducks her head, laughs again, bounces on the balls of her feet. “So I thought maybe you could use them, since you at least had some early doctoring education.”

“They’re perfect, Lucy, thank you.” Siri bends over, sets the books next to her bag, takes a step toward Lucinda to close the distance.

Wraps her arms over Lucinda’s shoulders, presses her cheek to the top of her head. It takes Lucinda moment to reciprocate, wrap her arms around Siri’s waist and lean in, but she does, stands on tiptoe so they lean their weight into each other. They stand in silence for a minute, Siri breathing the dust and sweat and warmth of Lucinda’s hair, Lucinda breathing the dust and hydra and sweat of Siri’s third-hand shirt.

CONTENT WARNING: None

“Excuse me, ma’am, uh, Boss Lucinda?”

Lucinda turns around. It’s Photo, who hasn’t spoken to her yet, just clung to Siri until Siri was visibly uncomfortable, and had suggested something to the effect of ‘if you want Lucy to notice you, you should go talk to her.” She had pretended not to hear, had continued feeding her bird and had started humming to herself. Now that Photo’s approached, though--

“Yeah?” she asks. Stays sitting. Her bird pecks at her hand, and she has to turn back to bop her on the head. “Oy, behave.” She passes a cricket to the bird before she looks back up to Photo, squints against the sunset. “Here, come around my other side.” She waves, turns as she gestures Photo to sit down to her left, instead of standing at her right. “Now, what d’you need?”

“I, uh, I just wanted to tell you I’ve heard all about what, uh, happened in the Mojave, and um, I’m, I’ve, uh, I’ve really wanted to meet you.” She fidgets with the fraying sleeves on her jacket, pinches them between her fingertips and the meat of her palm, twists her wrists backward and forward.

Lucinda smiles at her.

“I’m glad to meet you too, Photo. Where are you from?”

“Arizona. Just a little town off the road, nowhere interesting or important, not like all the others from Flagstaff and Dog Town.”

“And why are you here?”

“I don’t know, ma’am, I mean, I wanted to meet you but I don’t know why they decided I should come here with you for real, instead of just seeing you go by some time.” Photo keeps fidgeting, keeps looking away and glancing back at Lucinda, color rising to her cheeks.

Lucinda grunts, and her bird grabs her finger, tries to pull her around. Lucinda shakes her off, slips her a grasshopper.

“Where did you pick up the camera? Can you use it?”

“Yeah! I found it about a year ago, and a bunch of film that was still good, which is really amazing since it lasted through the war, and I’ve got a roll I need to have developed, but I’m not sure where I can get the chemicals I need to do that. I’ve got four more rolls of film with me, and I want to take a lot of pictures. It’s so pretty out here, without a town around.”

Lucinda looks past Photo, to where the glow of Vegas is visible just over the horizon, a sodium yellow halo against the darkening blue-purple of the east.

“It is,” Lucinda agrees, switches her eyes back to Photo. She reaches for her sunglasses--feels bare without them--stops when she remembers night is falling. “But believe me, you’ll get tired of dirt soon enough.”

“But there are a lot of things to take pictures of!” Photo exclaims, bounces in place. Pulls her camera out of her bag, waves it around. Lucinda raises both eyebrows.

“Oh?” she asks.

“Yeah!” Photo holds the camera in both hands, starts pointing as she talks. “There’s Dredge and Twist over there, and there’s that really pretty sunset against the mountains, and there's the Doc reading, and I could take pictures of your bird maybe, and maybe you too? But I can also take pictures of the way Watch just disappears into the landscape, or maybe Birdy holding her baby once her baby is born, and the same with Dredge, and you haven't ever seen the way Burn and Runner and Drummer all sleep on top of each other but it is so cute.” Photo holds the camera up over her mouth, presses the bottom of her nose against the top of the case. Lucinda laughs, looks over to where Runner is sitting up on her elbows, eyes narrowed at Photo.

“You’ll have to take up how cute they are with them, and ask them if you can take their pictures.”

“Oh, yeah, of course. I know there’s a lot of--” and Photo drops her voice. “tribal superstition,” and she raises her voice again, “about photographs.”

CONTENT WARNING: None

Lucinda makes a noncommittal noise. Her bird does a hop and a flap, up onto her knee. Goes for her interior pocket, pulls out a jangly string of paperclips and safety pins.

“Like--” Photo scoots closer, leans in, and Lucinda leans in too. “They believe you can trap a person’s soul in a photograph. It’s just a picture, like painting or drawing in the sand. You can’t trap someone in a photo.”

Lucinda feels the twinge in her belly, the vague sense of unease crawling up the back of her neck. You can trap someone in a photograph. She forgot about the photographs. Forgot about the pictures the Legion would have burned with everything else they took from the tribe. Forgot about the tiny moments that went up in flames. Worries about the people whose birds died before the photos did.

“Mmm,” she finally says, sits back. Her raven is strutting in front of her now, jingling the loop of string. She rolls onto her back, picks it up in her feet, and keeps rolling. Photo can’t take pictures of her bird, that’s not alright. Maybe in the background, incidentally, but not deliberately.

“Actually, can I-- can I take a picture of you, ma’am?”

Lucinda looks back over at her, squints at the camera.

“I suppose you can, yeah,” Lucinda agrees.

“Okay. So, you’re backlit right here, so I need to move--” Photo is on her feet in a moment, steps over Lucinda’s bird--who squawks indignantly, and rolls back onto her feet before fluffing up and making angry noises-- “right over here,” and she settles onto her knees to Lucinda’s right. “Turn your shoulders back forward, look over at me.”

“I didn’t think you meant right now,” Lucinda snorts. Her bird hops into her lap, and she tugs her coat forward so she’ll be shielded from the camera. “I’m sweaty and dusty from walking all day.”

“It’s a candid shot!” Photo chirps. “You’ll look the way you really do, instead of the pretty and fake way you look on the new coins.”

Lucinda wrinkles her nose, opens her mouth to protest, when she hears a click.

Photo giggles again, and Lucinda lowers her eyebrows.

“You keep that one to yourself, kid,” Lucinda tells her. “No one sees that one.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Photo giggles.

“Now go tell everyone we’re going to eat soon.”

“Ooh, what are we eating?”

“Whatever cut of dried brahmin I got at the requisitions counter. Tomorrow will probably be whatever Runner and Tooth can hunt up on our walk.”

Photo’s face falls.

“Oh.”

“Kid, it’s food. Just go tell everyone to circle up for dinner.”

“Yes ma’am.”

Lucinda watches her trot off back to Siri, pause just long enough to tell her dinner is coming, before trotting on to the others.

CONTENT WARNING: None

They stop at mid-afternoon the next day, because Birdy is crying. Her feet hurt, she’s hungry, she’s overwhelmed. Things are bad she sobs, and the women alternately draw closer or settle in a loose circle close by.

Runner and Siri and Lucinda circle up next to Birdy, who sits on the ground, legs splayed, hands on her belly.

Lucinda passes over her hat, settles it on Birdy’s head. Hands over her canteen, too. Offers a plastic baggie of pinyon nuts and fruit chunks and Sugar Bombs.

“Eat this,” she murmurs, stays squatted next to Birdy’s knee.

“I’m sorry,” she chokes out through a handful of trail mix.

“It happens,” Lucinda replies.

“Yeah, but I’m slowing everyone down,” Birdy whispers.

“You’re pregnant. It happens.”

“Dredge doesn’t have to stop.” There are tears running down her cheeks, still. Jesus.

“Dredge is thirty years old, tribal, and in better shape than you are.”

“I ain’t thirty,” Dredge yells from her spot next to Twist. “I’m twenty-eight, thank you very much.”

Lucinda rolls her eyes.

“Dredge is more than a decade older than you, and in better shape. You’ll catch up soon enough, but for now you can take it easy.”

“I don’t want to be the weak link,” Birdy replies, schools her face into a scowl. She means it, at least, even as she’s hiccuping and still clearly overwhelmed. She’ll get herself sorted soon.

“Ma’am, if you don’t mind, can I talk to Birdy alone?” Lucinda turns to look up at Runner, who shifts from foot to foot, her hands behind her back. “Just--without you, ma’am, the Doc can stay since she’s a doctor. Just wanna talk about babies for a second here, ma’am.”

“Would you like Runner to sit here with you for a bit?” Lucinda asks Birdy, pats Birdy’s knee.

“Yes, please,” Birdy agrees, nods carefully. Takes a sip from Lucinda’s canteen.

“Alright. I’ll be over with the others, if you need me.”

“Okay, thank you.”

Lucinda stands, turns to go join the other circle, where Dredge and Twist are watching Birdy in concern, and Photo is watching with wide eyes, her camera at the ready. Runner sits down next to Birdy, close enough their shoulders bump if they both breathe deeply. Siri squats on Birdy’s other side, next to her knee, holds her hand out so Birdy takes it.

“When I had mine,” Runner starts, and her voice fades as Lucinda steps further away. “I had a lot of trouble when I had to…”

“Photo, put away the camera. Give her some privacy.” Lucinda points at the camera, flicks her wrist, mimes throwing it away.

“Yes, ma’am.” Photo puts away her camera, fiddles with the hem of her dress, casts nervous glances up at Lucinda every few seconds.

“Good look, without the hat, Boss,” Drummer drawls, takes a drink out of her canteen. “You need to clean up the sides of your head.”

Lucinda reaches up to scuff her hand over the badly-shaved sides of her head.

“I didn’t have a mirror, so unless you’re offering, keep your mouth shut about it.”

“Shit, pass me a razor, I’ll trim it back down for you.”

Lucinda narrows her eyes, watches Drummer for a moment. Loose, open posture, legs at right angles and her pack used as a backrest. Comfortable, stretched out on the desert floor, her straw hat peeling and her jeans frayed through the knees and hems.

She digs her straight razor out of her pocket. Tosses it over to Drummer.

“Hinge is sticky, but it’s sharp enough to work.”

“You comin’ over here, or am I goin’ over there?” Drummer sits up, creaks the straight razor open. She studies the blade and the handle, grunts her approval.

Lucinda considers for a moment before she stands again, steps across the middle of the circle to sit in front of Drummer.

“A’ight, don’t fidget, don’t wanna scrape up your head, Boss.”

Lucinda nods once before Drummer’s hand presses against her scalp, followed by the cold presence of the straight razor.

She watches Runner and Siri and Birdy while Drummer works, watches Runner sling her arm over Birdy’s shoulder, tip the hat back and laugh, watches Siri take Birdy’s pulse and listen to her chest and belly both with the one-eared stethoscope she has in her doctor’s bag. Watches as Birdy watches Siri, watches as they all smile at each other, and Runner helps Birdy back to her feet.

CONTENT WARNING: None

The fire is burning low, and Watch is always pacing the camp perimeter, bare feet barely audible on the hard dirt. Everyone else is settled in close to the fire, some more settled than others--Burn and Runner and Drummer are curled together, arms across chests or wedged under shoulders, legs thrown across hips and thighs; Siri folded up to their left, with her book on her legs, reading down at a sharp angle; Tooth sprawled on the edge of the firelight, legs splayed, one hand palm-down on the cracked dirt, the other palm-up, knuckles tapping in time with Watch’s footsteps; Birdy straight across the fire from Lucinda, between Twist and Tooth, watching the fire crackle lower and lower, with her fingers curled under her belly like she can lift the weight and make it lighter; Twist turning her switchblade so each edge and plane catches the firelight in turn, brushing at dust and picking at rust; Dredge with her head pillowed on Twist’s thigh and her heels tapping close to Photo, humming to herself with her hands folded over her stomach; Photo with her camera in hand, checking the fire through the eyepiece, trying to look at the others and compose a shot, fighting with the flickering, dimming light.

It’s Lucinda who breaks the silence, raises her head, shakes the hair escaping her braid back off her face.

“Your women let you down, Birdy.”

The snik of Twist’s switchblade stops, as do Dredge’s humming and the tmp of her feet. Watch’s footsteps stop, somewhere behind Siri. Tooth stops tapping. Runner sits up, to Burn and Drummer’s murmured and indistinct protests. Photo drops her camera into her lap, wriggles back away from the firelight; can't fade the way Watch or Tooth can, but close enough. Siri goes to turn the page of her textbook, pauses.

Everything is silent a long moment, even the wood failing to pop to break the tension.

“No they didn’t,” Birdy says, soft.

“Well they sure didn’t help.” Dredge snorts, throws one arm up at the sky before dropping it above her head to point at Birdy. “If they’d helped, you wouldn’t have the kid.”

“They helped,” Birdy replies. Sets her jaw, sticks her chin out. Tips her nose up as she draws her eyebrows down.

“But did they help the way you needed help?” Lucinda asks, just loud enough to be heard. Runner lays back down, rolls over, and Drummer and Burn go with her, turn their backs on the conversation. Watch starts her circuit again, starts humming, and Tooth keeps time. Photo picks at something hard and plastic.

Twist is silent. Siri is silent. Lucinda is silent. Dredge is silent.

Birdy is silent.

Lucinda digs out a plastic bottle--pre-war, duct taped together so many times it’s barely its shape anymore. She gestures to toss it to Birdy, then tosses it when Birdy raises her hands.

“Nan’s Lace. Grows wild in the southeast. Need to cultivate it, this far west. You take two thumbtips a day, in the middle days between bleeds. Makes sure it doesn’t take.” She holds her hand up, and Birdy tosses the bottle back.

CONTENT WARNING: Discussion of home abortions
a/n: if you are pregnant and need an abortion, please don’t try any of this. please go to a clinic if you are able, for your own health and safety

“Other ways,” Twist offers. “Knew girls who put things inside.”

“Whole lotta ways,” Dredge agrees. “You can carry heavy shit, trip and fall, get in a fight, whole lotta shit you can do. Heard if you eat enough of a couple different plants you can fuck it up real bad, though whether that's real or just people talkin’ or maybe just coincidence I don’t know.”

“If it goes too long,” Lucinda murmurs, tucks the bottle away. “You get a coat hanger and you boil it, clean the grime off.”

Siri finally turns the page of her book.

“I don't recommend coat-hanger abortions,” she says. “The potential for harm to you is astronomically high.” She stretches her legs out, presses her thumb into the top corner of the next page in her textbook, right over the worst of a water stain.

“Well, shit, Doc,” Dredge laughs, loud and big. “If I’m willing to stab something inside me to death with a fuckin’ coat hanger, you think I care about what it might do to me?” She laughs again, pats her hands on the top of her head as she stretches, pops her spine. “Last option for a dead woman. Better to do like the Boss says and never have the problem in the first place.”

“But you need your women to care for you first, for that to happen,” Lucinda agrees. She rests her hands on her crossed shins.

“They cared,” Birdy repeats.

“But they didn’t care the way you needed them too, which is worse than not caring at all,” Lucinda replies. “Because that just gets you deeper, somewhere you don’t want to be.”

Twist goes back to flicking her switchblade, and Dredge reaches up to pat at her wrists until she runs one hand through Dredge’s hair.

“What was I supposed to do?” Birdy asks. Tips her chin down, looks at Lucinda from under her eyebrows. Sharp look, meaningful look, challenging look. Smarter than she let on at first, with the sobbing and the bashfulness and the giggling. Smart girl. Raven girl. She’ll learn.

“I don’t know,” Lucinda replies, tips her chin up. “But your women didn’t do right by you.” She narrows her eyes, considers for a moment. Little Raven looking at her, eyes narrowed, challenging everything. Was she this much of a shit to Old Raven when she was thirteen? She must have been. Would she have been at seventeen too? Probably. “It won’t happen here. You need something, you ask, you get it.”

“That go for everyone?” Dredge asks, perks up. “‘Cause I could really use a foot--”

“No,” Lucinda replies, cuts her off. She breaks into a grin, though, wide and honest, and Dredge laughs again.

CONTENT WARNING: None

Birdy is falling behind. It’s been a week since they left the Fort--a week where they’ve had to stop every few hours for Birdy; a week where Dredge ended up having to abandon her shoes to her backpack because of her feet swelling and blistering; a week where Runner and Tooth came back with the single biggest fire gecko Lucinda had ever seen, had butchered it and portioned it out three nights running with brutal efficiency; a week where Photo had snapped shot after shot of all of them, making faces, mid-chew, sprawled on the ground before dawn, at least half a dozen shots of the night they found the creek and spent three hours in the water as the sun sank and the air cooled and they all started to freeze--and it’s been a week where Birdy keeps going slower and slower. It’s fine, she’s pregnant, she can’t be feeling well. Today, though, she’s dragged Runner back with her, and they’re leaning together, talking in hushed voices.

Tooth and Watch are both leading today, bumping elbows as they walk. Photo has attached herself to Drummer and Burn, instead of Siri, and Drummer regularly picks her elbow up to use the top of Photo’s head as an armrest. Photo giggles and shakes her off every time, shoves her side. Dredge meanders back and forth, from Birdy and Runner bringing up the rear, ahead in front of Lucinda to where Twist is walking. Siri walks an easy arm’s stretch behind and to Lucinda’s right.

Vegas is long behind them, her halo so faint, if it’s visible at all, that she could just not exist. The desert spreads in front of them, wide and flat and empty.

The sun is starting to sink down, finally in the west after what feels like hours of being straight overhead. Sinking fast, too. Always seems to sink fast, once you have your walking pace. Sinks fast, when you spend your time watching ten other people and a fledgling bird who’s realizing she can pester more than just you.

The sun is an hour or so from touching the horizon when Runner finally trots up to Lucinda’s side.

“Hey, uh, ma’am, Birdy’s having some trouble. We gotta stop for her, I think.”

“What sort of trouble?” Slows her pace, and Siri draws even, then drops back with them. Birdy gains on them, and Runner steps aside to let Birdy--who spend up her steps--between her and Lucinda.

“Hurts every so often. About the same amount of time each time, and I’ve been counting seconds between and they’re really regular.” Birdy looks between Lucinda, Siri, and Runner, eyes darting. “Am I going into labor?”

“Could be,” Lucinda agrees, glances over to Runner, then to Siri. Runner raises her eyebrows, grimaces, Siri gives the faintest shrug. “We should stop soon, anyway. It’s about time to set up for the night.”

“What do I do if I’m going into labor?” Birdy asks, desperate edge in her voice. “I don’t--it’s not clean out here, what if I get an infection? What if I get sick? What if I bleed out? I’ve heard that happens to some women, you know, and I don’t wanna--” she sucks a deep breath, breathes in and out three times until her voice is level again. “I don’t want to bleed out on the desert floor because I’m giving birth.”

“We’ll make sure you don't,” Lucinda agrees. “It’ll be alright, Birdy. We’ll make sure it is.”

“Can you really?” Birdy asks, her voice low. It’s a question, maybe. “Because I’ve heard of a lot of people bleeding out no matter how hard the midwife tried.”

“You’re a strong girl,” Lucinda replies. “It might not be easy, but you’ll do alright.”

“I don't know,” Birdy replies, voice still low. “There’s only so much I can control.”

“You’ll do alright,” Lucinda repeats. Says it as an order, like she can make the world bend to her will if she says it with enough certainty, like she can make death itself step aside if she speaks with enough intent. “I’m going to call camp.”

She speeds up, goes to inform the others. Birdy leans into Runner’s side, and Siri joins the huddle, wraps her am across Birdy’s shoulders and the middle of Runner's back, bumps Birdy between them as Lucinda calls everyone in.

Really enjoying this. I hope Birdy makes it through alright!

Author here - These last few weeks have been crazy with school and my internship, but I have a 14-hour drive to Florida this weekend so I PROMISE there will be an update (or two) after I get back! Thanks again for following :)

It's been three years and I still check back on this fic.

Safe travels!! :D <3

CONTENT WARNING: None

“With what you’re describing, you’re likely going into labor.” Siri has her stethoscope out again, squats next to Birdy in the lean-to tent they set up apart from the others. Runner and Dredge pace back and forth to one side, one stopping and the other starting, walking tight circles and lines, checking the rocks weighing down the blanket, the rope holding up the blanket.

“Okay.” Birdy nods, swallows hard.

Lucinda squats outside the tent, away from Runner and Dredge, watching Birdy and Siri. The sun is to her left, approaching the horizon, and Twist is trying to light the fire. Everyone else has dug little depressions into the dirt, set up their blankets and their sleeping arrangements, huddled against the bases of rocks and shielded from the wind.

“You’re not having your baby yet,” Siri murmurs, puts her stethoscope away. “You’ll have another hour or two of this, at least, maybe more.”

Birdy flops backward, groans. Runner laughs--she’s the one standing, now, as Dredge paces and hums--and squats.

“The first one’s the longest, is what I’ve heard.” She slides into the tent, bumps her shoulder into Birdy’s. “If you do it again, it’ll take less time.”

“I’m not planning on doing it again,” Birdy snaps.

“Then you’ve got a one time deal!” Runner points out, smiles wide. SHe pats Birdy’s knee. “Me and Dredge and the Doc will stick with you for it, alright? It’ll go faster if you have Dredge here to tell you dumb stories.”

“They’re not dumb!” Dredge complains. Runner laughs and ducks her head, and Birdy smiles, though it’s tight and barely-there.

“Lucy, if you wouldn’t mind boiling some water?” Siri turns around, stands up as she steps out from under the lean-to.

“Of course. Someone might have soap, too.”

“Twist does,” Dredge offers. “She’d probably share for Birdy, since the kid’s tryna push out a baby, y’know? And Twist is good people.”

“I can hear you,” Twist says from her place next to the fire. She doesn't look up, stays huddles in front of the fire so the breeze won’t blow out the kindling. “It’s in my bag. Let me get it.”

Lucinda nods, goes to her own pack to dig out the cooking pot and a gallon jug of water she filled at the creek two days ago.

Twist moves aside as Lucinda dumps the gallon into the pot, covers it, goes to scrounge up more fuel.

“Watch, Tooth, come with me.” She points at each in turn gestures at a spot in front of her feet. Both nod, and Tooth hauls herself to her feet and Watch trots over from where she was perched atop a rock. “Drummer, you get the water on as soon as there's enough of a fire for it to boil.”

“Yes ma’am,” Drummer agrees.

“Burn, you keep watch,” she points to where Watch was just sitting, “Photo, you help out Twist or Siri or Drummer, whoever needs you. Do whatever they need you to do.”

“Yes ma’am!” Photo agrees, grinning wide. Behind her, Drummer rolls her eyes and grimaces, shrugs and goes to watch the fire next to Twist. Burn scrambles up the rock, settles down, rattles her dice together. “Siri, we’ll be back as soon as we can, if something happens and you need any of the three of us, send someone out to find us. We’re going north, but not far.”

“Got it,” Siri calls back, disappears back under the lean-to.

Lucinda glances over everyone still in camp-- all at whatever work they settled on or were assigned to, even Photo scooting around the fire to sit at Twist’s side, craning her neck to watch as the flames catch the yucca stalks. Dredge squatted next to the lean-to, Runner and Siri and Birdy talking inside, Burn perched atop Watch’s rock with her dice out, Drummer shifting the pot back and forth inch by inch as she watches the fire start to grow.

Lucinda turns, waves Tooth and Watch along, and walks away from camp.

CONTENT WARNING: None

“Why us?” Watch asks, squints. She pulled a pair of sunglasses from a backpack pocket yesterday, has refused to take them off since, even as evening falls. “Why not any of the others?”

“You’ve got a good eye, and Tooth is tribal. Dredge and Runner are both busy with Birdy, Twist is busy with the fire, Drummer is needed to watch the water, Burn is better served back in camp.” She yanks at the yucca leaves, bundles them together and ties them with another leaf. Tooth thunks her foot into a joshua tree trunk, leans her weight onto it to see if the tree will snap, or just bend. It doesn’t do either.

“Good eye for what?” Watch asks.

“Anything, from what I’ve seen so far. You keep watch every night, I figure you can spot a dead tree.”

“There aren’t any trees out here, even dead ones,” Watch points out, bundles the creosote bush she uprooted into her jacket. “And unfortunately, coyote hide doesn’t burn very well and stinks like hair and burning flesh.”

“Well, I’m glad to have confirmation there’s nothing out here.” Lucinda ties a few yucca leaves together, bundles a few other smaller bundles together. “We should head back. This should hopefully keep us going for as long as Birdy needs to be up.”

“Why are you so nice to her?” Tooth asks, steps away from her joshua tree. “Not like you ain’t nice to the rest of us, and ain’t like she don’t deserve a little niceness, but.” She narrows her eyes, tips her ragged straw hat back. “But I heard about the Mojave, same as Photo did,” she continues after an evaluatory pause. “Heard a lot of stories about you, don’t know how many are true, but ain’t any of them make you sound nice.”

“I’m a woman of many facets,” Lucinda replies, grunts as she swings the yuccas over her shoulders.

“Nah, nah, you’re running a con, or something like a con.” Tooth digs her hands into her pockets, falls in just behind Lucinda, off to her right. Watch falls in the same, but to her left. “Guess it ain’t a con if the frumentarii are running it for you, but what’s your skin in this game? You ain't gotta be nice to her, but you are.”

“If I’m an asshole to all of you--” she grunts, huffs, hikes the yuccas higher, her bird flops her way out of the nest in her hood and to the ground, and then hops back into the air, floats around above Lucinda’s head, “--then all I get is nine people who hate me. Nine people who hate me, who are bleeding out because they didn’t get the medical care they needed, or who are starving because they don’t trust food I make even if they watched me make it, or who fuck up and get us all canned and sent back to husbands and owners and tiny towns along the trade routes.” Her bird squawks, swoops past her head, and she makes a noise back. “I don’t know about you, but I’d rather leave Dog Town behind.”

Tooth grunts, nods, studies the horizon intently. The sun hasn’t sunk all the way yet, but it’ll be gone by the time they make it back to the camp.

“Not sure I trust that,” Watch murmurs. “But I’ll let it stand.”

Lucinda laughs.

“I don’t lie unless it gets me somewhere, Watch. What does lying about this get me?”

“Our trust,” Watch replies, doesn’t miss a beat. “NCR trusted you too, for five, six years. You’re not playing that long of a game now.”

“And who am I going to betray your trust to? The NCR, so they can lock me and most of you up for the rest of our lives? The Legion? What do I get by doing that? Who am I going to sell you out to?” Lucinda snorts, and her bird lands on her pauldron with a clatter of wings.

“I don’t know yet,” Watch replies. “But I’m keeping my eye on you.”

Lucinda snorts again, and then they all three go silent.

CONTENT WARNING: Discussion of infanticide

The hot water has been taken to Siri already, and Runner and Dredge are both under the lean-to now, along with Siri and Birdy.

Lucinda goes to join them, leaves Watch and Tooth to tend the fire with the others. Watch scrambles up the rock to replace Burn at her post, and Burn slides down to join the others. Tooth draws out a betting board in the dirt with a stick.

“Lucy, would you come here,” Siri murmurs, points Lucinda to Birdy’s side.

“You need a hand to hold?” Lucinda asks, settles on her knees next to Birdy. Birdy nods and slings her arm over Lucinda’s shoulder. Lucinda reaches up to squeeze her hand.

***

“It’s a girl,” Siri murmurs, smiles big and genuine. “Ten fingers, ten toes, she feels like she’s a healthy weight.”

The infant takes one deep gasp before she starts to scream, and Dredge throws her head back and laughs.

“Good set of lungs on that one.” She leans into Birdy’s shoulder, eases her down from her crouched position, onto the folded blanket. “Hope she doesn’t give us away to the deathclaws.”

Siri wraps the baby in a towel, passes her to Birdy, who takes her in her arms. Sir gathers the stained blankets she can, bundles them together and hefts them out of the lean-to. Dredge pats the side of Birdy’s head, tugs her in. Kisses her hairline just above her ear. Birdy slumps into her, lets Dredge take her weight.

Birdy stares down at the still-screaming newborn for a long minute, eyes wide, tears intermittently trickling down her cheeks and then turns to Lucinda, holds the baby out without a word. Lucinda takes her, doesn’t speak for a long moment as she arranges the towel, settles her in her arms.

“Do you want it?” Lucinda asks, voice low. “If you don’t, I can deal with it.”

The baby fusses, and Lucinda passes her back over. Birdy tugs open her shirt.

“I don’t know,” Birdy replies, voice small. “I don’t know.”

“That’s alright,” Lucinda replies, rests her hand on Birdy’s knee. “That’s alright. You don’t have to decide right now.”

“What would you do?” Birdy asks. “What would you do with her?”

“Don’t ask,” Dredge says, barks out a laugh, holds Birdy tighter. “You don’t wanna know. You just wanna know how permanent it is.”

Birdy nods, holds in a sob.

“How--how perm--” she starts, cuts herself off.

“Really permanent,” Lucinda replies. “If you say yes, you can't change your mind. If you don’t decide, or if you say no, you can always choose later.” She wraps her arm around Birdy’s lower back, leans into her shoulder. “You can always make up your mind later. For now, you nurse and you take it easy. I’ll have Siri back over here in a minute, alright?”

“Okay,” Birdy squeaks.

“Dredge, take care of her.”

“Sure thing, Boss,” Dredge agrees, reaches up to run her hand through Birdy's hair. “Sure thing.”

Lucinda stands, leaves Birdy and Dredge and the baby.

CONTENT WARNING: Discussion of infanticide

Siri's squatting next to the pile of blankets, pot of water next to her, soap in hand.

“The baby is healthy?” Lucinda asks.

“She’s robust, even,” Siri agrees, doesn’t look up from her scrubbing, just scowls at the stain.

“And Birdy will be alright?”

“As things look right now, yes. She'll bleed for a while, but she should be fine.” Her scrubbing stills, but she doesn’t look up.

“Everyone bleeds after giving birth,” Lucinda agrees. She squats next to Siri. “But it’s not out of the ordinary? She’ll be alright?”

“As long as she’s taken care of, yes. I wouldn’t suggest making her walk for another month, ideally, but I know how these things go.” Siri sighs, lets the sheets flop back onto the ground. Digs her hands into them, wraps her knuckles in threadbare flannel, hunches her shoulders up. “So at least not another few days. Give her time.”

“I can work with that,” Lucinda agrees. “I told her I would send you over. I'll take over on the washing.”

Siri sits back, shakes her hands off.

“Dredge and Runner are already sitting with her. Dredge doing a good job of comforting her.” Lucinda sheds her coat. “Think it means more, since Dredge is-” she sticks her elbow out, makes something like a gesture for a stomach. “And Runner had a kid. And I’m not, and I haven't.” She pulls her armor off over her head, drops it on top of her coat, shakes her shirt out.

Siri dries her arms off on her towel, stands.

“Did you offer to get rid of the baby?” she asks, voice low.

“I did,” Lucinda agrees. “She hasn’t made a decision, and she was crying when I left. Not because of me, though,” she adds. “The tears were not my fault.”

“I know,” Siri says. “What will you do, if she takes you up on the offer?”

“Take it out and break its head,” Lucinda replies, lets it thrum up through her chest. “It’s quick and it’s quiet.”

“I have other questions for you, later.”

“I figured,” Lucinda snorts, but she’s smiling.

“I want those blankets clean when I get back.” Siri points at the pile of blankets.

“Sure thing, boss,” Lucinda replies, rolls her eyes.

“Don’t give me any of that lip,” Siri replies, sets her hands on her hips, gives Lucinda a single raised eyebrow.

“Yes ma’am,” Lucinda replies, laughs.

Siri turns and walk toward the other firepit; Lucinda scrubs at the stains with the bar of soap, squints in the flickering light of the campfire.

CONTENT WARNING: None

“Birdy.” Lucinda sits next to Birdy, who keeps staring down at her baby. “I have a request.”

“”What is it?” She asks. Pauses a moment, adds, “ma’am.”

“We're coming up on the first town I’ve been ordered to hold for the Legion. I need someone to infiltrate and pass me information about its defenses, it’s guard schedule, any resources it has.”

“And you want me to do it.”

Lucinda nods.

“And I want you to do it.” She reaches her hand up and out, stretches her fingers toward Birdy’s baby, pulls away. Birdy passes the baby over, wordless, and the baby starts to fuss. Lucinda taps her chin, hums. “It’s a request, not an order, so if you would rather not play honeypot, you don’t have to.” Lucinda crushes out her cigarette in the dirt, bounces the baby on her arm and mutters soft noises to try to quiet her down.

“Why me?” Birdy asks. “Why not Twist? Twist is actually NCR, wouldn’t she be better?”

Lucinda snorts.

“Do you think I could get Twist to turn over an NCR border town if I wasn’t there to force her to do it?” Her mouth quirks up and she snorts again. Around the fire, Dredge laughs, and Siri sighs, and Runner launches into the next half of her story.

“But why me? Why not one of the others?”

“Look at yourself, Birdy,” Lucinda replies, grunts as she shifts the baby to her other arm. “Big eyes, pretty face, you're still young. Sort of girl who inspires sympathy. Tell the truth about the baby, lie about where you’re from, try to make yourself a new life in the town, give them three nights and then deliver whatever information you have to Watch.” The baby stops fussing, waves her arms around before hooting and going quiet. “It’s your choice, but know that this isn’t a chance to leave the Legion. I have my orders, but I won’t chase you down either. You go, you go, but I’m not going to let wherever you end up go just because I know you.”

“Photo is cute too,” Birdy replies, tucks her knees up and wraps her arms around her shins. “Why not her?”

“Photo is barely more than a kid, she’s barely even Legion, and she’s not smart the way you are.”

Birdy snorts and shakes her head.

“Flattery.”

“Huh-uh,” Lucinda replies. “Truth. You get people, know how to push, how to act. Don’t think I didn’t notice, because you’re like me. Have a sense for people, know how to act, how how to lead, know exactly which questions to ask, whether you ask them or not.” Lucinda narrows her eyes, leans forward. “And that’s why I’m asking you if you’ll do the job.” Sits back again, adjusts her hold on the baby so she can dig out her pack of cigarettes and matchbox.

They’re both quiet for a long minute, and Birdy watches Lucinda work one cigarette free from the pack, pick a match out, pinch them together between her fingers.

“Pass me the baby,” Birdy says, finally, voice low. “I’ll do the job.”

Lucinda passes the baby over, stays sitting and silent as Birdy stands.

“I should go eat,” Birdy continues, turns her back to Lucinda.

Lucinda watches her go.

This is so, so good. I love all these characters and I can't wait to read more about them!!

I DIED, OH MY GOODNESS.

And that ending. GENIUS. just pure genius. THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR SHARING ANON!!

I shall go hide in a corner and treasure this masterpiece forever

CONTENT WARNING: Reference to rape

“What’s your name?” the woman asks, rubs dirt off Birdy’s cheek. Birdy leans into the touch, whimpers. Holds her baby closer. The baby whimpers too, and she bounces her.

She opens her mouth, but her name catches in her throat.

“I’m escaping,” she says, instead. Give herself time to think of a name. Think of which name to call herself, whether to use the one the Boss gave her, or a new name entirely. “They hurt me, and they-” She lifts her baby, indicates her existence.

“You poor dear,” the woman says, but doesn’t move aside. “I’ll go get the doctor. You sit right here. What’s your name?” She leans in, nods her head the tiniest bit, makes it clear she didn’t miss Birdy’s deflection.

“Birdy,” she finally manages, sees the Boss’s grin, the way she ducked her head and laughed and looked at Siri like she meant what she said in an entirely different way than she explained it.

“Birdy,” the woman nods, smiles. “Well, you stay right here, Birdy, and I’ll bring the doctor to you.”

So she sits on the woman’s chair while the woman disappears down main street, to a scummy wooden shack on the other end of town. She comes back with a squat old lady, her hair tied back in a bun, more wrinkles on her face than on a molerat’s backside.

“Where are you from, dear?” the doctor asks Birdy, gently takes her baby from her arms. Unwraps the baby, looks her over, swaddles her and hands her back.

“Town east,” Birdy mush-mouths. “They-” and she hefts her baby again, lets the words choke in her throat.

“Oh, oh, dear.” The doctor pats her face, her shoulders, wipes away the tears she’s conjured up. “Come back to me clinic, and I’ll help you, alright?”

***

The doctor sits her on a gurney, offers soft smiles and half-assed jokes as she checks her over--presses a stethoscope to her chest, has her breathe; taps her knees with a small hammer, has her open her mouth; looks at her eyes and her ears.

“You’re in very good health, Birdy,” the doctors tells her. “And so is your baby.” She sets down her tools and pulls over the rolly chair at the desk. “Now, why don’t you tell me what happened?”

“They, they forced me, and I--” she tears up again, curls her arms around herself and away from her baby.

“Oh, dear.” The doctor stands again, pats Birdy’s cheek. “We have a place for you here. Here you’ll be safe.”

“Thank you,” Birdy squeaks. “Thank you so much.” Tries not to think about Lucinda and Runner and Siri back in camp, Lucinda sharpening her machete, Runner cooing to the baby, Siri sorting through her bag to see if there's anything she can reasonably send along to help.

“Here, why don't we go get you some food. I’ll tell Jess out on the road you’re good here, once we get you fed.”

CONTENT WARNING: None

The saloon has a single ceiling fan, spinning slow and loud. There’s a counter, and a back room, and a half-dozen rickety tables set up.

“Lara, this girl's just got in from the east. Why don’t you feed her. On my tab.” The doctor pushes Birdy forward a little.

“Sure thing, ma’am,” the woman behind the counter agrees. “What’ll you have, girl? We got omelettes if you don't mind gecko eggs, and brahmin burgers if you do.”

“A--brahmin burger, please.”

“You got it, girl. Why don’t you come sit up here at the counter.” Lara pats the countertop, slides out a glass of clean water. Birdy complies, carefully seats herself on the stool.

“Cute baby,” Lara offers.

“She--” and she looks away.

“Your reason, then.” Lara doesn’t look at her. “Sister ran away from home for the same reasons. Good girl. Wish I knew where she got off to.” She flips the meat patty on the griddle, tosses two halves of a bun on the griddle to toast. “How do you feel about fried potatoes?”

She’s never had fried potatoes, but if she’s from a town east, she would have.

“I like them,” she says.

“Never met someone who didn’t.” Lara sweeps the bun off the griddle and onto a plate, scoops the patty off the griddle next, slides it onto the bun. Uses a tongs to dump some slices of potato into a basket that she sets into a pot of grease. “Have ‘em out for you in just a moment, sweetheart. Sit tight and enjoy your burger.”

They’re both quiet then, while the potatoes fry, silent as they marinate in the heavy, sticky stench of hot oil . Lara eventually tongs the fries onto Birdy’s plate with a question.

“Your girl got a name?”

“Not yet,” Birdy murmurs. Doesn’t look at the baby, who waves her arms and gurgles. Lara leans on the counter, looks down at the baby, eyes soft.

“Not keeping her? Or you waiting for her to get sick?”

“Waiting for her to get sick,” Birdy agrees. That’s reasonable--hold off naming until you know your child will live.

“Mmm,” Lara hums.

***

She ends up bedded down in the woman on the road’s house. She has a sofa in her main room, an extra blanket she offers without a question. The baby lays on what looks like an old dog bed, next to the sofa. The baby doesn’t seem to mind. She’s stayed sleeping for most of this, for most everything, except to poop and nurse. The one time she woke up, Jess joked with her about her baby drawing in deathclaws from the nest ten miles to the northwest.

Jess doesn’t say much, aside from the offer of a place to sleep nad hte joke about deathclaws. Sleeps with her gun close at hand--same as the Boss, same as Dredge, same as Twist and Runner and Burn, makes her a strange sort of familiar.

Jess snores.

CONTENT WARNING: None

Birdy spends three days puttering around town. She attaches herself to Lara, who takes her in as a sort-of apprentice. Shows her how to run the griddle, where to find the alcohol, teaches her how many caps things are worth. Lets her carry her baby around while she wipes tables and rearranges chairs and dusts the sad neon signs.

On the third night, she knows the patrols. Wrote them down, even, so she wouldn’t forget. Knows where the camp is. Knows her baby will be quiet, as she slips out of town through a crack in the defenses, runs toward the camp, just a little ways over the hills. Not far. Farther than the town would look, though. Two hours out, to where she can see Watch up on the hill, just a bump where she squats in the tall grass, blending easy with the rocks.

“I brought the patrol list. You should be able to take the town without much trouble. There are only four guns in the whole settlement.”

“How many people?” Watch asks.

“Two dozen. Eight women, eleven men, and five children.”

“An even two dozen,” and Watch snorts. “Unexpected.” She takes the paper from Birdy, tucks it into her pocket. “I’ll report back to the boss. You best get back before they miss you.”

“Ave,” Birdy murmurs.

“Salve,” Watch replies. She snorts, taps her fingers against her knee. “Is that the only language we have in common?”

“Well, we both speak English too.” Birdy shrugs, adjusts her baby sling.

“English doesn’t have any good sending-off words.” Watch shakes her head. “Watch yourself out there, Birdy.”

“You too, Watch,” and they both grin at each other, just barely visible in the blue light of the moon.

***

She spends day four in the doctor’s office, trying to look like she wants to learn. She’s as much helping as looking for books or tools for Siri. The Doc already likes her, sure, the Doc likes most everyone except Dredge, who she also likes, probably, even though she complains about her every time they’re out of earshot of both Dredge and the Boss, but that doesn’t mean she can’t curry favor.

The doctor here shows her how injections work, offers to share a few recipes for remedies she’s picked up in her time. She offers the recipe for Bitter Drink like it’s some well-kept secret, and not something everyone in the Legion knows by heart. Birdy pretends she doesn’t know it, asks questions about how much of this and how much of that is needed.

Follows the doctor over to the saloon for supper, join the rest of the town in laughing at jokes.

Sleeps on Jess’s sofa, again, though tonight she doesn’t sleep. Jess is out on the road tonight, the way she is every second night. Tonight, Birdy stays up. Rocks her baby. Waits for the gunshots, the yells, the sound of fighting.

Waits for the boss to step through Jess’s door and tell her “Well done.”

CONTENT WARNING: Mild violence

The town has a shitty wall made of corrugated steel to protect them, propped up with rotting two-by-fours and cinderblocks and chunks of concrete. Looks like the wasteland puked up the walls after a week-long mezcal bender.

Siri, Dredge, and Watch stay back in camp, Siri fussing over her medical equipment, Dredge complaining about her feet, Watch settling atop the rock just outside camp to play sentry, the way she always does.

Lucinda tries to leave Photo behind.

She really does.

But the kid sticks to her--Cockleburr, she considers, not Photo--and so the kid comes along. The kid will learn. The kid will learn quickly.

She gives Photo a Stealth Boy, tells her to keep out of the way. Don’t hit anyone, don’t run toward anyone, keep herself behind something solid and likely to stop a bullet if she can. Photo looks at her with those big brown eyes, looks surprised that there are going to be bullets. Vulpes must have sent this one because she’s clueless.

She gives Runner and Burn Stealth Boys too, shows them what buttons to hit, suggests silent weaponry. The two of them nod, flick their Stealth Boys on, and disappear into the night.

“Twist, Drummer, stay with me. Tooth, you hold the saloon. We’ll gather people there. No mercy--someone fights, shoot them or machete them.”

“Sure, Boss,” Drummer agrees, slow and quiet. Looks at the others. Tooth nods, and Twist taps the flat of her machete with her fingernail. Lucinda nods.

“Helmets down, keep your faces hidden. If they’ll know anyone, it’ll be me.”

Tooth tugs her scarf up over her face, lets Lucinda adjust it until the printing sits right. Drummer tugs her scarf over her face, settles her goggles over her eyes. Twist drops the faceplate of her helmet.

“Let’s go,” Lucinda murmurs, voice low and deep in her chest.

Drummer and Twist split, flank the entrance to the town, keep themselves low and silent. Lucinda flicks on her Stealth Boy before she crests the hill, fades into the night. Tooth loses all of them quickly, ranges ahead and towards the right of the door, keeps herself flat on the ground until Lucinda deals with the guard.

Tooth sees the waver in the air before the guard does, sees Lucinda bring her machete around, wrap her arms over the woman’s chest as she deactivates her Stealth Boy. She can’t hear the words, though; still takes it as her cue, scrambles to her feet and slides down the hill. She catches the tail end of what Lucinda says, as she flicks her Stealth Boy off--

“You yell, I kill you and everyone in this town. Are we clear?” Lucinda’s voice is low, rough, every word clear and full of intent.

“Yes,” the guard spits out.

“Glad to hear it,” Lucinda replies, and her tone makes Tooth’s skin crawl. It’s the same tone some of the men from the tribe used, most of the men from the Legion used. Not one she wanted to hear again. “Tooth, this one’s yours.”

“Yes ma’am,” Tooth agrees, takes the guard’s arm as Lucinda strips her of her gun, takes the knife from her belt and tucks it next to the bowie knife strapped to her own thigh.

“Fuck all of you,” the guard bites out. She spits at Lucinda, lands a gob of spit on her chest. “Fuck the Legion, and fuck you for--”

“I know,” Lucinda replies. Her eyes are blank, empty, all pupil in the low light of the single lamp. “Fuck us and our men and our dogs and our goddamned machetes.” Lucinda inclines her chin, wrinkles her nose. “I’d let you go, if it would get me anything worth the trouble.”

CONTENT WARNING: Mild violence

Tooth drags the guard away, then, before she and Lucinda can talk anymore. They’re halfway down the street when the guard yells. Tooth tackles her to the ground, slaps a hand over her mouth, wrestles her down, pins her arms, silences her with an elbow to the kidneys. Somewhere behind her, a boot is slammed into a door, once, twice, three times; the door breaks, and over the noise Lucinda yells, “Welcome to the Legion, ladies and gents! Keep your hands on your head and your mouths shut, and we won’t have any fuckin’ problems!”

Tooth wrestles the guard through the door of the saloon, slams the door shut after her, leans against it to keep her in.

She stays there, as Lucinda repeats herself, marches four people, clutching blankets around themselves, shivering in the night air, over to the saloon, as Drummer and Twist do the same, with less yelling, or more, men and women and children, until the saloon is full up of two dozen people. Lucinda slings a chain through the door handle, padlocks it shut with three separate padlocks, drops the keys into one of her pockets.

“Twist, Drummer, do a last sweep of the town, look for radios or mail while you do. Runner, check what supplies they have. Burn, look for any valuables. Tooth, you stay here.” She cups her hands over her mouth, turns back in the direction of camp. “Photo!” she yells, keeps silent as the others disperse to their jobs, listens for footsteps. Inside the saloon, a half dozen people are crying and the rest are silent.

Photo rounds the corner on soft feet, her eyes big.

“Photo, you stay here with Tooth. You do whatever she tells you to do. Got it?”

“Yes’m,” Photo agrees.

“Good.” Lucinda nods. “I’ll be back in a hour.” She pulls a can of spray paint out of her coat, tosses it to Drummer as she rounds the corner. “Mark the houses without valuables with X’s, with valuables with O’s.”

“Yes ma’am,” Drummer agrees, shakes the spray can as she wanders back toward the cluster of houses.

“I’m going to go set flares, let them know the town is taken, that we can move in.” She digs through her pocket, her eyes on the horizon, until she pulls out her matchbox and pack of cigarettes. She lights one without blinking or turning.

“Boss?” Photo squeaks.

“Yeah?” Lucinda asks, after she takes a first long drag.

“What if they try to escape?” She points at the padlocked door. Knows enough to keep her mouth shut about the padlocks--the idea of what’s holding it shut is just as powerful as what's actually holding it shut.

Lucinda crosses her free arm over her diaphragm, fiddles with her coat as she rests her elbow on her wrist, lets her cigarette smolder between her fingers. She studies Photo, eyes narrowed.
“Twist?” she yells over her shoulder.

There’s a loud grunt from nearby

“You still have that auto ten-mil on you?”

“Sure do,” Twist agrees.

“Bring it here.”

Twist materializes out of the dark, passes the pistol to Lucinda grip-first. Lucinda takes it, turns it in her hands. Checks the chamber, turns it again to present it to Photo grip first, in turn.

“They try to run, you point that at them and hold the trigger down.”

“But that will--” Photo starts.

“Yeah,” Lucinda cuts her off. “They run, they earned it.”

“But…” Photo squeaks, soft. The gun look foreign in her hands. She’s too soft for this. Too soft for the Legion, for killing, to be holding a gun. All of it.

“Then you better hope they don’t run,” Lucinda murmurs.

She turns and walks away, toward the first house by the road.

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<CONTENT WARNING: None</b>

Birdy is sitting on the couch inside, her baby cradled in her arms. She doesn’t look up as Lucinda swings the door open, leans in the doorway.

“Are you alright?” Lucinda asks.

“It’s--it’s nothing,” Birdy replies.

“You didn’t think it would happen, did you?” Lucinda asks. “You thought maybe this was some great adventure, and maybe we’d walk away from the Legion and be free.” Lucinda steps into the shack for real, settles onto the coffee table in front of Birdy. “May I hold her?” Lucinda asks, nods to the baby. Birdy passes her over, settles back onto the sofa, tucks her legs up underneath herself. “Photo’s having a hard time believing it. You’re both too young to get it, still, I think.”

“I’m not too young,” Birdy replies. “I’m Legion, same as you. There’s no age limit on that.”

“If you were in my place, would you do it?” Lucinda asks.

Birdy stays quiet.

“That’s what I thought. Too young still.” Lucinda nods once, shakes her head once, fiddles with the edge of the baby’s blanket. She studies the baby face, then shakes her head, and passes the baby back to Birdy.

Drummer pops her head in the door, tosses Lucinda the can of paint when she looks up.

“Here’s your paint back, Boss.”

“Thank you. Drummer, I’ve got a question.” She runs her hands down her thighs, pats her knees, presses her palms together as she squares her shoulders.

“Well, shoot.” Drummer straightens up, shoves her hands into her pockets.

“If you were in my place, would you do this? The same things I’m doing?”

“Probably would, yeah,” Drummer agrees. “Maybe not the same way, but I see surviving. Like to keep surviving.”

Lucinda nods.

“That’s all, you’re free to go.”

Drummer nods, ducks out of the doorway. “I’m going to go set up flares on the road, get the following party to move in. You’re welcome to come along.”

“Do any of them know I did it?” Birdy asks. Keeps her head down, her voice low, glances at the screen door just before it bangs shut in the breeze.

“They will soon enough,” Lucinda replies, doesn’t jump or look at the door. She digs out her pack of cigarettes and her matchbox. “You’re going to have to learn to live with it, Birdy. That’s all you can do.”

“If you say so,” Birdy sighs. She rubs her forehead with one hand, balances her baby on her other arm, unfolds her legs to set her feet back on the floor. “Can you smoke outside, I’m getting a headache.”

“Sure.” Lucinda stands. “If you want to set flares with me, I’ll be up on the hill. Twist and Drummer will be around too, if you’d rather not.”

“I think I'll stay here.” Birdy looks down at her baby, studies her face as she nestles into her swaddling a little more.

Lucinda nods, closes the door softly behind herself.

Digs the flares out of the pouch at her hip, as she ascends the hill outside of town. Squats, places them, digs out her matchbox again. Waits a moment, lets the burn creep through her thighs for a moment, lets a little more ash dislodge from her cigarette, lets the crickets rattle away for a little longer.

She lights the first one, watches it fly up, shriek, hang burning in the air. Doesn’t watch the second, or the third. Leaves the shells there, stubs out her cigarette, leaves three discarded matches.

Takes time on her way back to watch the horizon, tries to capture a snapshot of what the sky looks like here. Tries to place the stars she knows. Takes time to smoke two more cigarettes, one after the other, undisturbed.

The part of the contubernium that came along is gathered on the road, when she returns. Photo clings to Birdy, who sticks close to Twist. Drummer took over Photos position in front of the saloon door, opposite Tooth. She’s holding the pistol too; Photo stands with her hands in front of herself, balling her dress up in front of her. Good thing she’s wearing leggings.

“If you want, you can take some things from the houses. Nothing too big, for your own sakes, because you’re going to have to carry it, but if you want it and you’ll haul it, take it.”

“Boss, that’s--” Photo starts. Birdy punches her in the shoulder, and Photo scowls at her.

CONTENT WARNING: None

Lucinda wanders through the houses Drummer and Twist marked, picks up books and flips through them, weighs jewelry in her hands, shakes out packs and cartons of cigarettes from the NCR and some of the more lax border towns, dumps all the matches she can find into her matchbox.

Hears a brahmin behind one house, so she goes out to refill its feed trough and check its water tank.

As dawn breaks, Photo and Birdy head back to camp Twist and Runner escorting them. Drummer, Tooth, and Burn squat in front of the saloon, mouths shut, rolling the ceramic dice and marking their bets on their grid in the dirt. Tooth and Burn both have an ear toward the saloon, and Drummer stands to walk a circuit around the salon again, check the locks.

Lucinda paces the front gate, entertains herself by spitting bits of half-chewed jerky into the air for her bird.

The legionaries top the hill in the late afternoon, and Lucinda hails them. Drummer scuffs out their betting board, Burn tucks the dice away in a pouch around her neck. Tooth settles her back against the door.

Burn and Drummer putter over to Lucy’s place in the gate, watch the men approach. Tuck themselves out of the way as they get closer, settle against the wall to the left. Lucy stands in the gateway, arms crossed on her chest, her bird settled on the back of the sentry chair.

“Ave,” the decanus yells, when he’s close enough.

“Ave,” Lucinda calls back, drops her arms and inclines her chin.

“You had no trouble?” the decanus asks.

“None,” Lucinda agrees. “There’s one, perhaps, you need to watch, but most of them are frightened farmers. There’s a doctor, an old woman. Good knowledge, valuable asset, my scout said.”

One of the legionaries behind the decanus scoffs, a tiny snort, a flick of his eyes like he’s trying not to roll them. A couple of the other legionaries shuffle and glance at each other, try not to grin.

Lucinda doesn’t respond, but behind her Burn and Drummer glance at each other. Burn gestures with one hand, low, off to her side, out of sight of the legionaries. Tooth, on the saloon steps, snorts and rolls her eyes, exaggerates the movement so it can’t be missed.

“Where is your scout?” the decanus asks. “I want hi--her report.” Even the decanus’s face twists as he corrects himself.

“She’s back at our camp, resting. Doctor’s orders.”

“Weak,” the same scout snorts.

Lucinda’s jaw twitches, but she doesn’t say anything to him.

“The tall blonde woman is the one you need to watch for, she’s alone and she’s one of the guards on the road. Most likely to cause you trouble.”

“Thank you, Lucia,” the decanus agrees. “We’ll take it from here.”

Lucinda nods, waves Tooth over. Steps aside so the contubernium can trickle into town, Tooth keeps herself close to the wall as she walks to Lucinda, keeps herself out ofthe way of the men, who jostle and push at each other, bang elbows and shoulders, bounce off each other. Burn and Drummer lean closer together; Drummer digs her fingers into Burn’s jacket pocket.

“Let’s go,” Lucinda says, voice low, waves Tooth and Drummer and Burn ahead of her. “Let them deal with the town now.”

The other women nod, lead the way back toward camp. Drummer and Burn split, a few steps outside the gate, drift to either side until Lucinda leads and Tooth trails behind,

“Hey, Boss.” It’s Drummer who breaks the silence, voice rough.

“Yeah?” Lucinda asks. Turns her head just enough to watch Drummer from the corner of her eye.

“How d’you do it?” she asks. “How do you not let the personal things get to you.”

“Don’t let it get personal,” Lucinda replies. “The minute it’s personal, you’re fucked.”

“What if it is personal?” Tooth asks.

“Then stop being that person,” Lucinda replies.

“Can’t stop being me,” Drummer replies.

“Sure you can,” Burn murmurs. “Can always stop being one person so you can be another.”

“You got it,” Lucinda agrees, holds up her arm so her bird can land.

Drummer snorts, but doesn’t argue.

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Page 248 of 257

Fallout Kink Meme Part IV: Closed to prompts, open for fills.

Say They Fear Her (f!courier/siri) (dubcon, referenced noncon) (9/?)

Say They Fear Her (f!courier/siri) (dubcon, referenced noncon) (10a/?)

Say They Fear Her (f!courier/siri) (dubcon, referenced noncon) (10b/?)

Say They Fear Her (f!courier/siri) (dubcon, referenced noncon) (11/?)

Say They Fear Her (f!courier/siri) (dubcon, referenced noncon) (12a/?)

Say They Fear Her (f!courier/siri) (dubcon, referenced noncon) (12b/?)

Say They Fear Her (f!courier/siri) (dubcon, referenced noncon) (13/?)

Re: Say They Fear Her (f!courier/siri) (dubcon, referenced noncon) (13/?)

Re: Heavy In Your Arms - Part 2d/?

Re: M!Courier Boone, 'Ars Moriendi' 1/?

Re: Heavy In Your Arms - Part 2d/?

Say They Fear Her (f!courier/siri) (dubcon, referenced noncon) (14/?)

Say They Fear Her (f!courier/siri) (dubcon, referenced noncon) (15/?)

Say They Fear Her (f!courier/siri) (dubcon, referenced noncon) (16a/?)

Say They Fear Her (f!courier/siri) (dubcon, referenced noncon) (16b/?)

Say They Fear Her (f!courier/siri) (dubcon, referenced noncon) (17/?)

Re: Say They Fear Her (f!courier/siri) (dubcon, referenced noncon) (17/?)

Re: OP Autofill: Take a Bath, Legionnaries (1/1)

Say They Fear Her (f!courier/siri) (dubcon, referenced noncon) (18/?)

Say They Fear Her (f!courier/siri) (dubcon, referenced noncon) (19/?)

Say They Fear Her (f!courier/siri) (dubcon, referenced noncon) (20/?)

Say They Fear Her (f!courier/siri) (dubcon, referenced noncon) (21a/?)

Say They Fear Her (f!courier/siri) (dubcon, referenced noncon) (21b/?)

Say They Fear Her (f!courier/siri) (dubcon, referenced noncon) (21c/?)

Say They Fear Her (f!courier/siri) (dubcon, referenced noncon) (22/?)