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Say They Fear Her (f!courier/siri) (dubcon, referenced noncon) (1/?)

[(Anonymous)]

tags: femslash, friendship, competence, gore, pregnancy, torture
characters: f!courier, misc. legion, siri, original character(s)
series: Shadows Get Long
summary: After the battle at the Dam, f!courier gets a new assignment from Vulpes: ruin the NCR’s day however she can.
warnings: major warning for violence and gore. the main character has questionable morals and demonstrates such frequently and unequivocally. there’s a torture scene. there is one dubcon scene, late in the fic, involving Lucinda, and a rape and its aftereffects on the victim (who is 17) are mentioned throughout, but the assault itself is never detailed. there is probably a whole bunch of other potentially upsetting content, but all sections with such content will be clearly labelled at the top of the section, in bolded all caps, before any actual content



CONTENT WARNING: None


“It’s not typical for women to be allowed Legionary status, of course.” Vulpes sounds so proud of himself for trotting out rules and regulations, as if she hasn’t heard them all ten thousand times before. “However, in light of your…exemplary service, Caesar has decided some…honorary titles could be arranged.”

“I don’t want honorary titles.” She has enough rank now. She pulls out her pack of cigarettes, plucks one out, closes it, replaces the pack in her pocket and the cigarette between her lips, lights it with a match from another pocket. “Want to go home.” She doesn’t, not really, but she’s tired. She wants to sleep for a week, maybe, and then get back to her old work. Slaughter brahmin and bighorners, scare the boys around the town, take a girl or two under her wing. Back to the boring order of Dog Town. Win over a dog or two, turn them against her husband, see how he does with that.

“Unfortunately–” unfortunately her ass from the way he’s smiling– “Caesar has another assignment for you.”

She nods. Vulpes waits a moment before continuing.

“The NCR has been routed from the Dam, but their presence remains in the west. Caesar wishes you to lead a crusade against them. You will have whatever resources you require.” She can see the twist of his lips at that, a sour taste in his mouth. She tries not to smile. He knows she’s laughing already. That’s how this game is played.

“Thanks,” she says. “To start, I want nine female slaves. Ex-tribals, if you can manage that. The ones whose loyalty you don’t trust. Smart ones, hungry ones, ones who are the only members of their tribe left. At least fifteen years old, but young enough they can still walk. No old ladies.” She takes another drag on her cigarette, blows it away from Vulpes. Pretends she has that much respect for him. “We’ll start there, and I’ll pass up any more requests I might have.”

She’ll have her own contubernium, be a decanus in her own right.

Let them deride her as a woman then.

Say They Fear Her (f!courier/siri) (dubcon, referenced noncon) (2/?)

[(Anonymous)]

CONTENT WARNING: None


Her bird is fledging. She worries about the fact they’ve been in this weather station for three weeks now, the only news of the outside coming with Siri’s more and more infrequent visits-- “There are legionaries being called in from the east,” she had said, a week after the battle at the Dam, “and of course they need all the women they can to serve them.”--worries about what that will do to her bird. Hopefully her requests have been filled, or will be filled soon.

Her bird is happy enough with the situation. Lucinda spends her time laying on her bed, petting her bird. Her bird is starting to pick up human-grooming, too, picks through her hair, looking. Spends an equal amount of time picking up and arranging and rearranging the scraps of electronics Lucinda brought up from the bunker.

Meals are three times a day, although a day is questionable at this point. She hasn’t been outside in three weeks. One of the girls new to the Fort comes and takes her bucket outside every two days. She doesn’t even get to leave for that.

She's dozing when the door creaks open and Siri steps through, empty-handed.

“Not mealtime?” Lucinda asks, half-sitting and giving her bird time to hop out of the way

“They wanted me to come tell you--your women are all here now.”

“Oh.” Lucinda swings her legs off her bed, scoops up her bird and settles her back in her nest. She pats her bird’s beak with one finger. “You stay here and don’t cause any trouble,” she murmurs, soft and low. Bends down, pulls on her boots and boot covers, laces both up. Grabs her coat, hauls it on. Three weeks, she hasn’t worn it. The sleeves are still stained, no matter how she’s tried to get the blood out. She pulls her bird glove over the one. At least that side will look less bloody.

Undoes the end of her braid, tugs it tight again--no time to redo the entire thing--re-ties it.

Loops the big red scarf a girl brought her three days ago over her shoulders, lets it hang in the back like a cape, the way the centurions do.

Takes a moment to adjust everything so it sits right, settles her sunglasses on her nose. Straightens up, thumps her heels onto the floor as she does. Fills her space.

“I’m ready,” she tells Siri, grins wide. “Bring me to them.”

Say They Fear Her (f!courier/siri) (dubcon, referenced noncon) (3a/?)

[(Anonymous)]

CONTENT WARNING: mention of pregnancy by rape


There are nine women in the tent, from the easy two-by-two headcount. No old ladies, Vulpes passed that on well enough, and they look strong and competent. An assortment of women, too--tall dark-skinned woman with her hair in maybe-braids, arms across her chest and legs stretched out; twiggy woman with a wide round face and proud arched nose, pregnant belly looking out of place on her frame; chubby teenager from down south-ways, with her hair loose; pale scrawny teenager fat with a baby; three women with their shoulders pressed together, one with a blue scarf around her neck, the next with a dice pouch on a cord, the third with some pretty amulet carved out of a rock; girl with cornrows in the corner, eyes dark and wide and mouth a tight line; woman next to her with twitchy hands and eyes you could get lost in.

They narrow their eyes when she steps into the tent. Every single one, scowling, arms tight across their chests. A united front. She wonders if they planned that. The fact she sees some of their eyes darting makes her suspect it.

“My name is Lucinda,” she tells them. “Have any of you ever held a gun?”

Five of them raise their hands--Maybe-Braids, Pregnant Nose-Woman, Rock-Amulet, Cornrows, Twitchy Hands.

“Good. What have you been doing under the Legion?” She drops the tent flap behind her, reaches for the chair in the corner. “You,” she says, pointing to Pregnant Teenager, who looks eight, almost nine months along. There’s two pregnant ones, of course, because she didn’t ask for non-pregnant women and that’s an easy way to take them out of commission. “What did you do?”

“I cooked,” she replies, her voice small. She tucks into herself, under Lucinda's gaze, but keeps her eyes on Lucinda’s face. Sets her jaw, even as her voice and body shrink away.

“A good job,” Lucinda says. Waits a moment. “How long have you been pregnant?”

“Thirty-five weeks.”

“How old are you?” Lucinda narrows her eyes. She’s too young, has to be--

“Seventeen.”

Too young. Doesn’t let the answer hang before she asks more.

“Did you want it?”

The girl jerks upright again, stares at Lucinda. Lucinda takes off her sunglasses, folds them, tucks one arm into the collar of her shirt so they hang. Doesn’t really need them inside the tent anyway.

“No,” the girl finally says. Her voice wavers, but doesn’t break.

“Then I’m sorry.”

The girl looks away, glares, and the other women look between her, Lucinda, and each other.

“What about you?” Lucinda asks Pregnant Nose-Woman. “How long, did you want it?”

“Thirty-two weeks, and yeah, I wanted him. He’s from before the Legion. Had a husband before all this shit.”

“Good.” Lucinda nods. “What did you do for them?”

“Made armor. Not very good, but they didn't trust me with anything bigger or sharper than scissors.” Her mouth twists into a smirk. Lucinda smiles back.

“You good with a machete?”

“Goddamn best.” She raises her chin.

“Glad to hear it.” Lucinda raises her chin in response. “You’ve used a gun before.”

“I’ve hunted animals. Never used one on people.” Her mouth twists into a sneer now. “Assimilated quietly.”

“Same here,” Lucinda says, unloops her scarf. She twists it around her hands, lets the scar and the remnants of her tattoo speak for themselves. “Only got good at it while I was The Courier.”

Say They Fear Her (f!courier/siri) (dubcon, referenced noncon) (4a/?)

[(Anonymous)]

CONTENT WARNING: None


The shack is still empty, at least. She almost expected there to be people moved in, trying to escape the Legion. Too close to Cottonwood, maybe.

Their escort waits outside, and Twist and Dredge and Burn follow her into the shack.

“You lived here?” Twist asks. Rests her hand on the doorframe, looks up and studies the ceiling.

“Sure, for the last few months.” She hauls one of the footlockers full of food out from under the bed, shoves it away. Drags the other one out as Dredge settles herself on the table in the corner. Burn leans next to her.

“Heard about Strix,” Twist says.

“Yeah?” Lucinda asks, yanks up three loose floorboards, flops on her stomach to squirm under the bed. Her bird squawks, and she makes a shushing noise. “Heard he got promoted back east.”

“Yeah,” Twist says.

“So what was the point of bringing him up?” Lucinda asks, jackknifing so she can get one eye on Twist without moving from under the bed. She shoves her arm down through the gap made by the opened floorboard. Feels a beetle crawl across her knuckles as she fumbles the canvas sack up.

“You keeping this one?” she asks, jerks her thumb at the door, indicates the man standing out by the water tank.

“Don’t think so, unless Vulpes decides he can piss me off.” Drags the sack out from under the bed, dusts off her arm. Runs her palm over the bag, counts to make sure all three gold bars are still there without opening the bag and revealing them. “Which I wouldn’t put past him.”

Dredge laughs.

“You guys really hate each other that much?”

“Shit, yeah. He’s an ass. Thinks I’m out of line.” She stands up, goes to dig through the lockers against the wall for anything worth taking along. All three sets of eyes follow her. “I don’t give a shit what he thinks about my place in the Legion.” Her fingers slip over a cardboard cover, shoved behind a tangle of medical braces and surgical tubing. She gets her fingers between the cover and the age-soft pages and yanks, pulls out the whole wad of medical equipment at the same time she pulls out the textbook. Shakes the tangle to the floor so she can read the cover, then tosses the book next to the canvas sack with a loud crack. Burn jumps, Twist twitches, Dredge doesn’t react. There’s another book still in the locker, and she digs that one out too, tosses it--more quietly, a thump this time instead--on top of the other. “If you three want to go through those footlockers, they're full of food. Take what you want, leave what you don’t.”

“How long’s the food been there?” Dredge asks. “‘Cause it’s been, what, three weeks since the battle at the Dam? and if you were here for months before that, some of that shit might be ancient already.”

“It’s not that perishable,” Lucinda replies, bundles the canvas sack tighter around the gold bars. “It’s mostly gecko or bighorner jerky and dried fruit, with some NCR emergency rations thrown in for variety.” She crams the canvas sack into her backpack, sits back on her heels as she stacks the books on top of the bars.

Say They Fear Her (f!courier/siri) (dubcon, referenced noncon) (5/?)

[(Anonymous)]

CONTENT WARNING: None


“Where are you from? All of you,” Lucinda asks. Lucullus stands and their escort sits at the back of the raft, Lucinda sits at the very front of a crate, Dredge leaning against it, Twist and Burn settled on opposite sides of the raft, across from each other. “Not where you were born, where were you Legion?”

“Processed through Dog Town,” Dredge says. “Ain’t been Legion long enough to have a real place. Down on the lower levels, right, with all the rest of the slaves. Mostly just kept us all together until they could redistribute us out to where we were supposed to be. Kept us busy making armor and shit while we waited.”

Lucinda nods, looks to Twist.

“Flagstaff,” she says, doesn’t elaborate. Goes back to shredding the piece of cloth she found on the ground at Cottonwood, peeling thread form thread and piling them together.

“And what about you?” she asks Burn, digs out a cigarette and her box of matches. She lights the cigarette as Burn replies.

“Also from Flagstaff. Was born in the Sangre de Cristos, but my mother was moved to Flagstaff when I was five or so.”

“Who are the other two women you were sitting with? Drummer and…?” God she’s needed a cigarette. She can feel herself unjangling as the nicotine goes to work.

“Runner,” Burn says. “She’s Flatwater born. Whole tribe of runners, Legion kept my Runner carrying messages around town.” She picks at her fingernails, doesn’t look up.

“Where, Flatwater?” Dredge asks. She’s fiddling with the side flap on the box, picking at the failing glue with her chewed-up fingernails. “Like, Crater Flatwater, or Platte Stretch Flatwater, or Chimney Flatwater, or are we talking that place with all the balance-y rocks out near Pine Ridge?”

“Platte Stretch, as far as I can tell.” She drops her hands. “I never asked, though.” She flicks her eyes at Lucullus and the escort, though she doesn't turn her head. “I figured it didn’t matter much.”

Lucinda nods, breathes out. Breathes in, breathes out, takes another drag on her cigarette. Rock-Amulet’s name is Runner. Will be good for carrying messages, to scout ahead, most likely, and maybe hunting food to supplement their likely-insufficient rations. She’ll need evaluating, because even if the Legion kept her on her feet, the Legion still isn’t tribe the way the middle of Flatwater or Lonestar or Dakota is tribe. Not the way this mission will be tribe. Running messages isn’t the same as walking all day. All these women are going to need to be trained into being any good at walking.

“Wouldn’t matter, no,” Lucinda agrees. “Fucking tribals,” she adds, presses her calf against Dredge’s shoulder, and Dredge leans into it.

“Hah, yeah,” Dredge agrees, snorts. “Ain’t got the first idea of how great the Legion really is.”

Lucinda laughs, low and rough in her chest, and Burn grins down at her lap. Twist’s mouth twitches, but still can't really be called a smile.

Say They Fear Her (f!courier/siri) (dubcon, referenced noncon) (6a/?)

[(Anonymous)]

CONTENT WARNING: None


Drummer nods and salutes when they arrive back at the tent. Burn goes to sit with Runner, and once Lucinda nods at Drummer in acknowledgement, she breaks to go sit with them. Twitchy Hands follows after a moment, settles into the now-square of bodies.

Twist and Dredge settle off to the side, on a pair of chairs apart from the others.

Pregnant Teen and Cornrows and Loose Hair all sit together, talking. Pregnant Teen keeps her hands on her stomach, wraps them around herself as Lucinda steps further into the tent and closes the flap behind herself, approaches on quiet feet.

“Hey,” Lucinda says, voice with just enough roughness to warm it. “What’s your name?” she asks, takes off her sunglasses to look Pregnant Teen in the eye.

“I, uh.” Pregnant Teen looks her in the eye for a moment, then looks away. Draws down her eyebrows and half-squints at the crack of light under the tent wall. Doesn’t respond.

“Born Legion?” Lucinda asks, sits down. Loose Hair scoots away, to give her room to join the circle.

“No,” Pregnant Teen responds. “Born tribe.”

“Where?” Lucinda asks.

“Canyonlands.”

“Long ways from where you were born,” Lucinda murmurs. Watches the other two girls--Cornrows is twisting beads on a string, Loose Hair is holding something behind her leg so Lucinda can’t see it. Lucinda looks back over to Pregnant Teen.

“I don’t remember it,” Pregnant Teen says, voice soft. She presses her hands to her belly. “I was three years old when we joined.”

Lucinda hums, first, pauses before she speaks again.

“It’s a shame,” she says. Cornrows looks at her, narrows her eyes, grimaces like she’s trying to fit Lucinda's words somewhere in her head. Pregnant Teen gives a tiny, hesitant nod. Loose Hair looks at all three with wide eyes. “I know some things. I can't teach you everything, but I can teach you a few things.”

“Thank you, ma’am,” Pregnant Teen says, but she doesn’t sound like she means it.

“I mean it,” Lucinda says. “The Legion did you and everyone else in this tent wrong, and I’m not going to pretend they didn’t.” Lucinda turns, stands, dusts off her pants. “If you wouldn't mind coming with me, I need to go visit someone and I’d like to have you along.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Pregnant Teen agrees, and takes Lucinda's offered hand. She waves her fingers at Loose Hair and Cornrows, and Cornrows nods and moves so she’s sitting across from Loose Hair.

Say They Fear Her (f!courier/siri) (dubcon, referenced noncon) (7/?)

[(Anonymous)]

CONTENT WARNING: None


Vulpes is in what used to be Caesar’s tent, maps spread across all available surfaces. A praetorian and a dog sit in one corner, the praetorian sharpening his machete on a whetstone, the dog watching Lucinda walk across the center of the tent, her head high, her shoulders back.

“Vulpes Inculta,” she greets the man in question, his back turned to the entrance.

“Hello, courier,” he replies. His voice still makes her skin crawl.

“You only gave me nine of the ten women I requested. I have a specific request for the tenth.”

“Then speak,” he replies. Still doesn't look up from his maps. He has a point marked with one finger, another finger in an open book next to the map.

“Siri, the woman at the bar.”

“The one with medical training?” Vulpes asks. Pauses. “You request her?”

“Yes,” Lucinda replies. “With two pregnant women, and the nature of our assignment, I want her as the tenth member. There are several other doctors in the Mojave, if you need recommendations of who to bring back here to fill her place.”

Vulpes looks up, turns. Lucinda can’t see his eyes behind the tinted goggles, but his mouth draws tight.

“Leave a list of names and locations, and your request is granted.”

Lucinda nods, and digs for a pencil and paper in her pockets.

***

“You’re with us,” Lucinda says, bounces up to Siri’s counter. Pregnant Teen has a plate of roasted brahmin in front of her, sliced yucca fruits arranged next to it, half an apple to round out the plate. “Request has been granted.” She grinning, wide and easy, and Siri breaks into a grin too.

“What should I bring?” she asks, turns to look at her workspace. Dusts her hands across the front of her dress, scowls down at them when they come away with faint red streaks.

“Whatever doctoring things you have,” Lucinda instructs, leans on the counter. “And any extra clothes. Anything you want to keep, that doesn’t weigh too much.”

“I don’t have anything that weighs much,” Siri replies. “Am I--are we going right now?”

“As soon as possible. You should come back with us, and then we’ll see how quickly we can get everyone else arranged and moving. We’ll be leaving tomorrow, most likely, with the sun going down.” Lucinda nods toward the sunset, where it’s turning the sky purple. “So we’ll spend tonight here, getting arranged, and then we’ll be moving before the sun is up tomorrow morning.”

Siri nods, turns to grab her doctor’s bag. The leather is cracking, and one of the handles has been both repaired and reattached with duct tape.

“I’m ready to go,” she says, hefts her bag higher in one hand. She grins, after a moment, and Lucinda grins back.

“Hey, Little Bird,” Lucinda says, directs it at Pregnant Teenager. “Let’s go. You can finish eating back at the tent, we'll all eat.”

“Little Bird?” she asks, even as she stands and picks up her plate.

Lucinda startles, stares for a moment.

“Sorry, name I picked up a long time ago as an endear--” she stops. “Is there a name you’d rather go by?”

Pregnant Teen ducks her head, shuffles her feet around in the dirt. Looks bashful.

“I like that one,” she says.

“Little Bird?” Lucinda asks, raises one eyebrow. Turns to go back to the tent, waves the other two along, urges Siri to go in front of her as she walks at--Little Bird’s--side.

“Well, maybe not all of it,” Little Bird says. Rests one hand on her stomach, balances her plate on her other hand.

“Birdy?” Lucinda asks. “You look like you could be a ‘Birdy,’ with that nose.”

“It’s not a birdy nose,” Siri responds. “That’s the sort of adjective you keep for that other woman you left with, earlier, the pregnant one.”

“Dredge,” Lucinda agrees. “Fair enough.” She surveys Birdy’s face, squints a little. “But it’s a cute name, and a cute nose.”

Birdy laughs, has to turn her head.

“I like it,” she says. “It’s a good name.”

Lucinda laughs and smiles, digs her hands into her pockets and hums to herself as they walk.

Say They Fear Her (f!courier/siri) (dubcon, referenced noncon) (8a/?)

[(Anonymous)]

CONTENT WARNING: None


Cornrows follows last, three steps off the outside of the approximate column.

Twitchy Hands leads, on the other side.

Neither volunteered names over dinner, although everyone else had gotten acquainted by new names--Dredge had laughed when Drummer pulled off her scarf and shook it out, revealed it to be a baby blanket; Birdy and Dredge had sat next to each other, occasionally poking each others’ bellies, Dredge laughing in delight and Birdy in disgust when Dredge’s baby decided to press its (Dredge insists his) foot out her side; Siri and Twist had sat together in silence, except to introduce themselves, Runner and Burn had used each others’ names until they’d turned into nonsense, Loose Hair had pulled out a camera--a big boxy thing with a missing flashbulb, cracked and duct taped back together--and had summarily been named ‘Photo’ to the tune of her furious blushing.

Cornrows stayed in the corner and watched, Twitchy Hands next to her, both silent.

They don’t talk out here on the road, either, but they watch each other from the corners of their eyes, move in a sort of off-kilter tandem that almost has a rhythm to it. They must know each other. Must know each other well.

“Hey,” she calls to Cornrows, steps two steps across the back of the column, so she’s a step and a half from the girl. “What’s your name?” she asks.

“Watch,” Cornrows replies, low and soft like she’s used to answering to someone. Takes a moment before she tips her chin up, watches Lucinda from the corner of her eye. Keeps her hand close to the machete at her hip--refused a rifle, took the .44 revolver instead.

“Watch. And where are you from?”

“All over.”

“Tribal?”

“Legion.”

Lucinda huffs, half-smiles.

“Not common for the Legion.”

“I’m not common,” Watch agrees. Lucinda nods, studies everyone's backs. Dredge is laughing about something, shoves Twist’s shoulder; Siri is boxed in by Birdy on one side and Photo on the other; Burn walks two steps behind Dredge, leaning int Drummer’s shoulder to giggle every time Dredge laughs; Runner leads the column, a half step off and two steps ahead of Twitchy Hands.

“Why are you here, Watch?” Lucinda asks, stop walking and turns to face Watch. Watch stops a step ahead, turns around.

“The men didn’t like me,” she replies.

“That’s not a reason,” Lucinda fires back. “Dog Town loved me and yet here I am, they hated others but they're still there.” She takes a half-step closer, edges herself into Watch’s space. “Why are you here, Watch?”

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

[(Anonymous)]

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.

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

[(Anonymous)]

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.”

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

[(Anonymous)]

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.

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

[(Anonymous)]

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.

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

[(Anonymous)]

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.

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

[(Anonymous)]

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.

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

[(Anonymous)]

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.

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

[(Anonymous)]

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.

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

[(Anonymous)]

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.

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

[(Anonymous)]

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.”

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

[(Anonymous)]

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.

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

[(Anonymous)]

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.”

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

[(Anonymous)]

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.”

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

[(Anonymous)]

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.

Say They Fear Her (f!courier/siri) (dubcon, referenced noncon) (23a/?)

[(Anonymous)]

CONTENT WARNING: None


A call goes out over the radio, at sundown, requesting backup at the town. Two legionaries down--out of commission by a woman, of all things. Burn and Tooth lay together, giggling, while Birdy rocks her baby under Runner and Dredge’s supervision. Siri reads; Watch walks a circuit around the camp, hops up onto the windbreak rock to study the horizon; Twist sharpens her machete on a whetstone. Photo stays huddled against the base of the rock, arms over her chest and knees tucked up and together, so her calves rub. Drummer sits at the fireside, at a careful 45 degree angle to Lucinda, far enough back that Burn taps her back with her toes. Lucinda presses her hand over her mouth as the call goes out, covers her smile, prods at the coals with the end of her machete while she waits for the corn to finish roasting.

“We did good today,” she says, finally, once the confirmation of more incoming troops comes through and the conversation has dropped off again, into near-silence. Watch is now seated behind Photo, braiding her hair. All eyes turn to Lucinda, who doesn’t look up. Her raven hops closer, digs into her pocket. She bops the bird on the head, presses her palm over the opening so she can’t get in. Watch looks away, so do Photo, and Birdy, and Tooth and Burn and Dredge. Runner and Drummer, Siri and Twist, all stay looking at her--Siri with worry in her eyebrows, Twist with her face carefully blank, Runner with one arm pressed across her stomach and her other hand dug into Dredge’s thigh, Drummer tracing a grid into the dirt at her side.

Lucinda looks up, makes eye contact with the women still looking at her.

“We did good today. We didn't kill anyone. We didn’t have to kill anyone.” She looks down again, wiggles her fingers at her raven so she hops into Lucinda’s lap. “Let’s keep that up.”

“Boss?” Tooth asks.

“Yeah?” Lucinda asks, turns around to look at her.

“What do we do when they fight back?”

“We make them listen,” Lucinda replies, turns back around to face the fire again. “Casualties will happen.”

The camp goes silent again, until Siri turns a page in her book, and Watch has tied off Photo’s braid and patted her shoulders, until Birdy’s baby makes a sad noise and Birdy shushes her, unbuttons her shirt.

Once the corn has been distributed, fruit lifted from the town and shoved into pockets peeled and shared around, once Dredge has co-opted Twist’s lap for a footrest and Twist has rolled her eyes at Dredge’s giant, supposedly-endearing grin, once things have settled back into the rhythm of camp life, Lucinda stands and dusts herself off, excuses herself past the edge of camp.

Birdy follows, baby passed off to Runner, who’s patting the baby’s back and bouncing her gently, trying to get her to burp.

“Boss?” Birdy asks, voice low.

“Yeah, Birdy?” Lucinda asks, half turns to face her.

“I--I don’t think I can do that again.”

“Alright.” Lucinda nods, digs for a match and a cigarette. Lights it before saying anything else. “Are you doing alright?” she asks.

“I--yeah. Alright,” Birdy agrees. “I just--don’t think I can do that again.”

“That’s alright,” Lucinda replies. “I’ll have Dredge do it, next time, I think.”

“She’s not very good at acting,” Birdy points out, taps her fingers against her arm. With the sun down, it’s getting cold, and the hair on her arms is standing straight up as she breaks into bumps.

“She doesn’t have to act. She just has to leave some truths out.”

“Do you trust Dredge to keep her mouth shut?” Birdy asks, grins sideways at Lucinda.

“She sure fucking better,” Lucinda garbles around her cigarette. “All I need is for her to not say she’s still with the Legion. The rest she can tell the truth about. I think she can manage that, especially if she keeps up the usual word vomit.”

Back around the campfire, Dredge laughs long and loud, starts in on a convoluted story about her husband and his brother hunting a family of deathclaws with just three skinning knives and a single arrow.

“Distract them with stories about that time she fought a yao guai in the woods when she needed to pee?” Birdy asks.

aSay They Fear Her (f!courier/siri) (dubcon, referenced noncon) (24/?)

[(Anonymous)]

CONTENT WARNING: None


“The boss is asleep, so’s everyone else.”

“Even Watch?” Burn asks, leans in so her nose brushes Runner's shoulder.

“Well, not Watch,” Runner agrees, reaches for Burn’s buttons, starts undoing them from the top down. Burn starts from the bottom up.

“And Drummer? Are we going to round out this trio?”

“I’m here,” Drummer drawls, slides up behind Burn. “Watch says she’ll keep lookin’ the other way, so we got privacy.”

“Privacy of the whole night sky, yeah,” Runner laughs, low in her throat. She stands up on her knees, backs Burn up as Burn shucks her shirt, scoots back until she’s settled between Drummer’s legs. Runner rests one hand on Burn’s thigh, runs her other hand down Burn’s breastbone. “Might get a bit chilly.”

“I can handle chilly,” Bun snorts, unbuttons her pants and wiggles them down over her hips as Runner leans in to kiss her, and Drummer snakes her arms around to press warm fingers to Burn’s navel, then trail them lower.

“You’ll warm up quick,” Drummer murmurs, hooks her chin over Burn’s shoulder and wobbles her jaw so it touches Burn’s. “Here, up, sit on my scarf.” She unloops the baby blanket, folds it into something that might be a square, in the low light from the sliver of moon and the low coals, sets it under Burn’s butt whe she levers herself up, hands on Drummer’s thighs. “There we go,” Drummer murmurs, pats Burn’s bare legs with both her hands.

Burn settles back down, and Runner leans in to kiss her again, cups one breast in her palm.

Drummer is the one who snakes her hands into Burn’s underwear, Burn hooking one leg over Drummer’s to give Drummer better access, Runner hooking her hand under the other. It’s Runner who presses Burn back, cages her against Drummer as Drummer plays with Burn’s clit, slides a finger into Burn. Burn who throws one arm around Runner’s bony shoulders, drags her down, curls the other arm as best she can around Drummer’s side and back, tries to muffle her gasps into Runner’s shoulder, even as they turn into desperate whimpers, backed by the grind of dry dirt and loud gravel and fraying denim on both, hard rubber of Drummer's boots and the slick sounds of her fingers, Runner’s soft noises of encouragement and Drummer’s answering hum.

The fwap of a leather hat against their tangled arms, an angry groan from where the boss is huddled under a blanket, next to Siri.

“Pipe down,” the Boss growls, rolls onto her back, doesn't open her eyes. “I can hear you, shut up.”

“Sorry, Boss,” Drummer calls back, tries not to laugh. “Won’t happen again.”

“It better not,” the Boss agrees, rolls back onto her side, faces away from them. Scoots across the ground until she’s inches from Siri--maybe even touching, hard to tell in this light--and then stills.

Runner pulls back long enough to raise her eyebrows at Drummer and Burn both, then lean down to muffle her giggles into Burn’s neck, while Drummer laughs into Burn’s hair.

Say They Fear Her (f!courier/siri) (dubcon, referenced noncon) (25/?)

[(Anonymous)]

CONTENT WARNING: None


“Can you read and walk at the same time?” Photo asks, kicks at the rocks on the road with her hands in her pockets.

“I could, maybe,” Siri agrees. “I’d really rather not try, though. The road is rough enough I don’t want to trip.”

“Hmm.” Photo scowls at the cracked pavement, chews her bottom lip like she can come up with a solution that doesn’t involve asphalt and two-hundred-year-old chemicals and equipment.

“Uhhhh, hey, Doc?” Drummer calls from up ahead. “I, uh, got a lil friendly with a cactus a couple days ago, right, and I thought it’d just heal up alright?” She stops, holds up her bandage-wrapped hand. Well, it was bandage-wrapped, now it’s unwrapped and a dangerous shade of red. “It’s lookin’ kinda funky today, and Runner’s agreeing with me, which means I probably oughta have you look at it too.”

“Bring it here,” Siri agrees, waves her over, sings her bag around on the new rope strap Twist wove the other day. Digs out the bottle of antibiotics and clean gauze, holds them up, shakes the bottle from side to side, one pinky extended. Drummer mimes a dramatic sigh, drags her feet for three steps before trotting over to join Siri, walk next to her as her as she tips the bottle over, dribbles antibiotic solution onto the gauze, presses it over the puncture wounds.

“Thanks, Doc.” Drummer trots back ahead, shows the new bandaging to Runner, who takes her wrist, turns her hand to admire it.

***

“Hey, Doc.”

“What is it, Watch?” Siri looks up from her medical book, sets it aside after placing the scrap of cloth that serves as a bookmark.

“I got a tickle in my chest, ain’t new, but I ain’t had a doctor before to look at it.”

“Sit down, then.” Siri turns, reaches for her bag, pulls out her stethoscope. Birdy had brought her a new one, from the doctor’s office in the first town, one with two ears and a shiny disc on the end, clean black rubber tubes. Brought a set of surgical instruments, too, a scalpel and forceps and bandage scissors, an aluminum tray to rest them on. A tangle of clean surgical tubing, now wound around an old yarn spool, counted out to something like thirty feet. A whole lset of new equipment, clean and unused and whole.

Watch settles down, legs crossed, hands in her lap. Sticks her chest out, breathes deeply a few times, until Siri places her stethoscope.

“Keep breathing,” Siri laughs after a moment. “I can’t hear anything wrong if you’re not breathing.”

“Right,” Watch agrees, manages half a laugh before she goes back to even, deep breathing.

“It doesn't sound like anything major, luckily. Most likely it’s a recurring chest cold, is all, or allergies.”

“‘S that really all?” Watch asks, plucks at her shirt collar as Siri sits back and puts her stethoscope away.

“Most likely. There’s a chance for a few other causes, but those are the most likely.”

“You got any theories about allergies?” Watch asks, picks her knees up so she can rest her elbows on them.

“Most likely it’s the barrel cactus pollen, although if you have a mineral allergy, there are plenty of those in all this dust.” Siri runs her finger through the coating of dirt on her doctor’s bag, holds up her finger, wipes it off on her pants after a moment of consideration. “It could be other environmental irritants, even just background radioactive particles.” Siri shrugs. “In that case, we could run a geiger counter over you, give you some radaway, but there’s no long-term condition to go with that.”

“Mm.” Watch nods.

“Boring?” Siri asks, quirks one eyebrow.

Watch raises one eyebrow back.

“A little,” she agrees, lets the smile creep across her face to answer Siri’s.