And then Anders' mind caught up, eyes growing wide and he was pushing Simon back, clambering to his feet with his battlehoned grace dimmed. "What are you-- Simon, how did you even--" He scrubbed both hands over his face, looking a little beyond panicked. "Shit, shit, I've gotta go--"

He tried to push past the courier but Simon gripped him by the shoulders. "Don't," he said.

"Please," Anders whispered harshly, eyes frantic and pleading. "You don't understand, I have to--"

"There are two soldiers out there," Simon told him in urgent, hushed tones. "They were trying to trick me into murdering you. If you run out, they'll kill you."

Anders sucked in a deep, steadying breath. "Soldiers, huh? Guess that explains the knot in the back of my head." He stepped back and brought his palms together, pressing them against his lips as he paced the room like a caged animal, mind churning. "Okay," he said after a crossing the room twice. "Okay, here's what we're gonna do."

Moments later Simon stepped out of the shack door, eyes on the ground. "It's done," he said solemnly to the soldiers.

"Good man," one of them said, grinning broadly.

"I, ah..." Simon sighed heavily. "I left the knife in him. Sorry, just..."

"No need to explain," the other soldier said. "He was a real bastard. You've done a hell of a turn for the NCR, kid."

"Yeah," Simon said in a disconnected voice. "Yeah."

He turned to walk away, heading for the treeline and heard the two men enter the shack. Heard fat screaming bursts of gunfire, and silence. He ran back to the shack, heart singing in fresh relief when he saw the plan had worked, the men now corpses on the ground.

Anders was crouched, inspecting the bodies. "No dog tags," he said, patting through the pockets. He tucked his hand into one and tugged out a handful of denarius coins. "That explains it then. Legionnaires."

Simon shook his head. "I carry those coins, doesn't make me Legion."

"Naw, this is stolen armor, look-- the places where they patched it up are all fresh-looking." Anders rose, satisfied with this explanation.

Simon was less convinced. "That's-- No. Why Legion? I know why they want me dead, but why you?"

Anders shrugged, hands on his hips. "Cottonwood Cove. They don't take kindly to men disappearing from crosses."

With all that excitement over, the two men were only left with each other, Anders' expression settling into something raw and withheld as he looked at Simon. The mention of how they came to meet was doing little to settle the aching twist in Simon's belly.

Anders had been in awful shape when Simon got him down from that cross, limping, dehydrated, bruises yellowed and lingeringly tender, lacerations ranging from "barely healed" to "festering". Ever a Khan, as Simon would learn, he insisted at first on making his way back to Red Rock, hobbling pathetically onto the road and brushing off Simon's pleas for him to just sit still and accept medical treatment.

So Simon had followed.

They were well past Camp Searchlight when Anders finally fell, caved and accepted all that Simon was offering him. They found somewhere vaguely safe to make camp, Anders guzzling water as Simon tended to his wounds, medicating everything to the best of his abilities, keeping him comfortable. He felt the first odd surge of affection for the Khan at the truly comical face he pulled when Simon served him his dinner. "This... this looks disgusting, make me a steak."

Simon shook his head. "You're in a state of extreme dehydration and water just isn't gonna cut it. We need to replenish your electrolytes--"

"My what now?"

Simon had sighed, shoving the bowl at him again. "Things that make your body work. This is the best I can come up with."

Anders resolutely had not accepted the bowl, staring at Simon with the hard gaze of a man being denied steak. "Tell me what's in it."

"You really don't want that."

"Tell me what the fuck is in this disgusting mash."

"Banana yucca, potatoes, and beans."

Anders tried to gag for effect but wound up actually gagging in his sorry state.