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M!Courier/? - Remain Nameless [2a/?]
Date: 2011-11-20 11:55 pm (UTC)A burst of wind carried across the desert ground, kicking up dust and whipping through Simon's hair as he pressed forward. Maybe he should have left a note, he was reflecting now. Left with more than a short farewell to Arcade, the only other conscious person in the Lucky 38 at the ungodly hour of his departure. But he was at a loss for how to explain why he was setting out, or where he was going, and why he needed to go alone. Why there was only one person he wanted to see right now.
And in truth, he had very little by way of ideas on how to proceed. His current notion was to go to all of his regular haunts, the places he usually stopped along the road, knew the most people at. It wasn't much, but it was as good a plan as any. If nothing else, maybe seeing so many people he knew and liked would help ease some of the lonely ache that had been building in his chest over his past several untouched nights.
The road was sacred to him. His line of work was little more than an excuse to travel constantly. The wastes with all its paths, both defined and hidden, held a sort of wisdom that had a way of knitting itself into Simon's bones. He hoped it would provide him with some kind of clarity, even if it didn't lead him to his stranger.
He headed south of Freeside, stopping at Camp McCarran. He navigated the main courtyard, the tarmac, the concourse. He sat in the mess listening to his overflowing tableful of eager soldiers exchanging lively stories and politely pretended it wasn't just for his amusement, all of them good-naturedly warring for his attentions under the guise of a sudden base-wide attack of nostalgia. He sat in the ground floor office with Hsu, who welcomed his offered distraction of peaceful, companionable conversation. "You look exhausted," Simon told him sympathetically.
"Speak for yourself," Hsu replied with a sort of sad kindness.
He lost two rounds of Caravan to Betsy and won one against Bitter-Root. He took a hit from Boyd's hip flask, met her private wink with a secret smile. And then he moved on.
M!Courier/? - Remain Nameless [2b/?]
Date: 2011-11-20 11:56 pm (UTC)He headed west to Red Rock Canyon, a definite candidate for the most unlikely location to become his most treasured sanctuary. There was no mistaking where you stood with the Great Khans, nothing by way of insincere politeness or diplomatic dishonesty. It made their affections mean more as they rang so honest, the hospitality they gave him more of a comfort. And it meant his visits were frequent, most of the Khans greeting him like an old friend. So different from McCarran. He stopped by the longhouse and paid his respects to Papa, pride building in him as the man greeted him with guileless warmth, knowing it had been earned. He made a stop in Regis' tent and wound up spending the rest of the morning and bulk of the afternoon in there, the two men getting lost in discussions of the philosophy Regis had recently excavated from some old book, as they often did. He made his way to take a seat at the campfire as evening began to descend, settled next to Anders as he always did. Their friendship ran so deep after their joined trek back from Cottonwood Cove that they rarely even needed words, even though the conversation was too good to skip. More Khans joined the fire, the smells of cooking wafting through the evening air. Jack approached from behind and greeted him with a sneak attack hug around his shoulders, kneeling by him and grinning with unshadowed fondness.
"Shit, you look exhausted," he said, catching the courier's chin in his calloused fingertips. "I brewed up some tequila the other night. You're having a bottle with your steak, brother -- that'll get you to sleep."
He did sleep, on a woven rug under the stars, filled with meat and drink and warmth. He dreamed of somewhere green, sunshine sparking hot between leafy branches and the feeling of grass on his bare back, of scarred hands on his body and a face he couldn't see, too overwhelmed by the light above. He awoke to the thin ribbon in the horizon of pink and orange chasing away the expanse of dark inky blue, and walked on.
He stopped in Goodsprings for lunch. Trudy asked him to stay the night but he politely told her that he had to get on. He had spent too many months on someone else's schedule, traveling for someone else's reason's and then settling in the gilded cage that was the Lucky 38, and now his feet longed to feel the Mojave under them, to eat up the road and drink in its secrets.
He spent the day walking, reaching Novac right as Manny's shift was ending, walking into the courtyard just as the sniper was descending the steps from the dino, a broad grin spreading across his face. "What's goin' on, man?" he greeted Simon warmly, pulling him into a quick, back-clapping hug. "You flyin' solo tonight?"
They swung by the McBrides to buy a pair of steaks, and soon Simon was seated on Manny's bed and chucking off his boots while Manny fried cooked. "So what's the grand adventure this time?" Manny asked over the sizzle and pop of the steaks in a pan.
"Just wandering," Simon answered. Manny offered him a beer, which he cracked open and took a swig from before saying, "Looking for someone."
"Anyone I know?"
Simon shook his head. "Couldn't say."
M!Courier/? - Remain Nameless [2c/?]
Date: 2011-11-20 11:57 pm (UTC)Manny rinsed the dishes and tossed the empty beer bottles in a small trash bin, and settled next to Simon where he was sitting on the bed. Cautiously slid a hand on his thigh in a silent question.
"Sorry," Simon said, "not this time."
Manny removed his hand with no complaint. "Same guy you were seeing last time?" he asked, voice still as casual as it had been during dinner.
"Yeah," Simon said.
"Must be working out well, then."
Simon worked at the knuckles of his left hand. "I hope so."
He didn't want to spend the night in his room -- too restless to spend time in what had always been little more than a glorified supply shed for him. He walked to Camp Forlorn Hope, still struck by how different it looked from the first time he had seen it, back when it was a skeletal place that looked like a graveyard waiting to happen, smelled like fear and death. It was by no means as comfortable as McCarran now, but it was substantially improved, and full of people who were always happy to see him. Another impromptu congress assembled around him at the campfire, the night owls and guards on their breaks. Hayes was the one with the hidden flask here -- Simon could name "the one with the flask" at every NCR post he had made enough of an impression on -- and shared a swig with him. He slipped into the medical tent where Dr. Richards was working far later than he should, on nothing more important than reorganizing old reports, weariness in his shoulders but still lucid enough to provide Simon with the enjoyable flirtatious banter that made no promises and no demands. The tent was empty save for the two of them, and Richards offered him one of the cots for the night. Or, he playfully offered, Simon could just join him in his tent, and Simon met him gamely, even as the doctor looked so bone-tired that Simon wouldn't take him up on it even if he weren't spoken for.
He hadn't realized that it was morning when he fell asleep, and he slept hard, emerging from the tent as the late afternoon haze was scattering and evening was settling in. He walked on.
He headed north, not really certain where he would go next. Just opting to see where the road would take him. Night had well and truly set in and he was far from any of the settlements he knew about when two patrolling NCR soldiers rushed towards him.
"Simon?" one of them said. "Simon. Thank god you're okay."
"What do you mean?" Simon asked, genuinely confused.
"We were worried he had gotten to you first," the other soldier said, shoulders sagging with relief.
"Wait, who?"
"You were being trailed," the first one informed him. "We saw it while we were patrolling a bit further south -- he's been following you for a while."
Simon's heart dropped into his stomach, and he didn't know how to respond, blinking at the two of them dumbly.
"We lost track of you a little ways back, and he must've to, 'cause he was ahead on the trail. C'mon."
The soldiers began walking and Simon followed, asking, "Come on where?"
"We got the bastard," the second soldier said. "You won't believe who we just saved you from, brother."
Re: M!Courier/? - Remain Nameless [2c/?]
Date: 2011-11-21 12:08 am (UTC)Re: M!Courier/? - Remain Nameless [2c/?]
Date: 2011-11-21 01:47 am (UTC)Re: M!Courier/? - Remain Nameless [2c/?]
Date: 2011-11-21 05:39 am (UTC)Re: M!Courier/? - Remain Nameless [2c/?]
Date: 2011-11-21 05:50 am (UTC)Re: M!Courier/? - Remain Nameless [2c/?]OP
Date: 2011-11-21 05:51 am (UTC)OP is hyperventilating, and going 'oh no' over and over.
F5 FOREVER. <3
Re: M!Courier/? - Remain Nameless [2c/?]
Date: 2011-11-21 07:42 am (UTC)ASDFGHJKL;
Beautiful writing, description, everything, by the way.
Re: M!Courier/? - Remain Nameless [2c/?]
Date: 2011-11-21 01:00 pm (UTC)though I am probably waaaay off
it's nice to think of all the possibilities, and A!A, you're writing is brilliant, sitting on the edge of my seat and hammering the F5 button for the rest of eternity
M!Courier/? - Remain Nameless [3a/?]
Date: 2011-11-21 11:41 pm (UTC)"Who's in there?" Simon pleaded, desperation rising in his chest.
"That one Legion bastard -- the one you reported being behind Nipton," the other soldier replied. "Wooly whatever."
Simon's stomach went cold. Oh, god. He had thought he'd be okay with it being a member of the Legion, back when the thought was just a purely hypothetical scenario. But he remembered Vulpes. Remembered his abject cruelty, the atrocity he committed on Nipton that infected Simon's nightmares. Simon was an empathetic creature by nature -- he couldn't help but imagine the utter fear all of the ticket-holders had to have felt awaiting their fates, had felt it as strong as though he were there when he listened to the frumentarius proudly describe the slaughter he had orchestrated.
No. No, this couldn't be right. He had honestly thought that he'd welcome whomever his visitor was with an open heart when his search was over. But he had never expected this. He hadn't expected to find he had given his body over so eagerly to the man who devised that horrific lottery.
"He's in there, 'sleeping'," the first soldier was saying, handing Simon a massive blade. Simon gripped it in cold fingers. "We know what you saw him do. Figured you'd want the honor. Orders are for any NCR soldier to bring him in rather than kill him, but you ain't technically NCR. Now's your chance -- you can take him out right now."
"Just don't turn on a light," the other warned. "He's in good shape, prolly won't stay out for long. It's too much of a risk to assume the light won't wake him up. You can judge by the shadows where he is -- just go and plunge that sucker in the bastard's heart."
Numbly, Simon made his way into the shack, closing the door behind him, blinking as his eyes adjusted to the dim ambient light, forms of shadow taking on layers.
His heart was suddenly hammering. stomach churning. He took a few careful steps towards a form he could make out on a bed, all varying shades of dark gray that only barely registered as a man. And a nightstand nearby, with a lamp.
He looked behind him at the door, saw that the seal of it was tight. No light would escape to the front of the shack. He knew the soldiers' warning was in the right mind, but it couldn't be this way. Simon had to look at his face, just once, as though in some wild moment of hope he could feel something other than disgust for the beast he so heavily associated with fear and hate. As though some instinct bidden by the wisdom of his body would kick in, explain to him how someone who had given him such cherished nights could reside alongside someone so soullessly cruel. Simon flicked on the lamp, holding the knife at the ready. His eyes adjusted to the light and began to discern the form resting on the bed. His heart leapt into his throat.
He lowered the blade, tucked it into his boot. Tenderly he reached for the sleeper's left hand, ran his fingertips over the burn scar. He had imagined it would be some vivid color that stood out against his lover's flesh, but it was just a shade lighter than his skin. His warm skin, in Simon's hand, skin he couldn't help pressing his lips to as he began to shake from relief. From joy.
All those times he had sat next to him at the campfire, all those swigs of whiskey from a shared bottle, one long trek battling at each other's sides from one end of the Mojave to the other, and he never would have guessed.
Anders groaned softly, stretching slightly on the bed and turning towards the touch. Simon descended upon him without thought, kissing him softly, breath coming in ragged and wet. Anders slowly crawled towards consciousness, some instinct bidden by the wisdom of his body kicking in, hands reaching up to thread in Simon's hair as he met the kiss, parting his lips and making Simon moan softly as their tongues brushed together.
M!Courier/? - Remain Nameless [3b/?]
Date: 2011-11-21 11:46 pm (UTC)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.
M!Courier/? - Remain Nameless [3c/?]
Date: 2011-11-21 11:52 pm (UTC)"Oh, screw you, I can handle a spoon," Anders had said petulantly, taking the bowl and beginning to eat before it struck him that he had been manipulated. "You're crafty," was all he said. "I'll give you that."
The journey back to Red Rock had taken much longer than it would have normally, the pair of them making frequent stops at Simon's insistence (and to Anders' great protest), Simon insisting on short days and plenty of rest for the Khan, Simon selling all of his precious Nuka-Colas in favor of stocking up on purified water at every merchant who had it to sell. It didn't help that Anders kept stressing his still-healing wounds by joining Simon in combat, helping him gun down anything from raiders and geckos to Fiends and Simon's weekly batch of Legion assassins. "Damn," Anders had said when he saw the level of men approaching them with weapons drawn, "you're popular."
Simon sighed sharply. "That one's gonna yell at me before the battle starts. They always yell the same goddamn thing before the battle starts. Like it's somehow slipped my mind that Caesar hates my ass."
He remembered the night his respect for Anders was solidified, when he inspected one of the nastier wounds on his leg that just would not heal. "I hate to say it," Simon had murmured, the two men softly illuminated by the amber light of the campfire, "but what I've been doing just isn't cutting it. It's gonna turn gangrenous before long."
"Gangrene means I lose the leg, Sunshine," Anders had said through grit teeth. He hadn't been a fan of Simon's cautious methods, but he had accepted them. Oddly enough, he had been at his most resentful only when Simon insisted on shaving his ridiculous mustache to treat a nasty wound on his upper lip that was dangerously close to infecting his sinuses. Anders had groused seemingly endlessly, constantly petting his face for the rest of the trip (no -- until, Simon reflected presently, he had pointed out that Anders looked better without it, and he hadn't yet grown it back). But he had accepted it, like every other call Simon had made. "You're the smart one. You know what you're doing. Shit, I accept that I'd probably be dead without you by now. So come up with something."
Simon had looked him dead in the eye. "It's gonna hurt."
Anders tilted his chin up in response, a firm set to his jaw. "I can take it."
Anders had nodded once at the suggested treatment. Faced the pain with little more than deep breathing. He hadn't even cried out as Simon pressed the whitehot gun barrel fresh from the fire onto his skin, cauterizing the wound.
He had seemed genuinely confused when Simon apologized for the brutal treatment later on the final stretch of the journey, Red Rock within sight. "You saved my leg, Sunshine," Anders said. "That's worth a little pain. Plus that scar's guaranteeing me a great story."
"Seems like most people would've at least flinched when I told them what the treatment was gonna be," Simon had said.
Anders had just shrugged, eyes on the road. "Khans ain't most people." He was quiet for a moment, then said, "You ain't most people, either."
Simon had immediately taken a liking to the Khans, one that would last. He had nurtured friendships at the camp in Red Rock Canyon, accidentally developed a good reputation among them. But as much as he grew to enjoy the company of so many in the camp, his friendship with Anders had always been made of different stuff. He just figured that two men couldn't go through what they had gone through together without their relationship being forged into something stronger. And now, looking at him in the dim yellow light of the shack, he didn't even begin to wish for someone handsomer, someone more sophisticated. He could not have wished for anyone different.
M!Courier/? - Remain Nameless [3d/?]
Date: 2011-11-21 11:55 pm (UTC)He stepped around Simon and made for the door. The courier called after him. "If you really don't think I'll come for you, then you don't know me at all."
Anders stopped, turned, looked at him with something raw and aching in his gaze. "I know every inch of you," Anders whispered reverently. "And please, please, that's why I need you to leave this alone. There was a reason I stopped finding you."
Simon took a step towards him. "Then why did you come tonight? Why were you following me, if you're so done with me?"
Anders made a helpless gesture. "Because I just--" He sighed heavily, raked a hand through his short hair. The sight of it brought a memory of Simon running his own hands through that bristly hair, and shot a lurch of heat straight to his gut. Anders met his eyes. "I guess I just wanted to say goodbye."
Simon moved towards him, and skirted his fingertips up Anders' defined arm. Anders shuddered and grasped his hand. "But I can't. The way I wanted to, I mean-- this is goodbye, right here. This was a sign, I really am supposed to be leaving you alone. Diane was right. I-- I have to go."
He pushed past Simon and through the door, the courier following. "Diane? What does she have to do with this?"
There were noises off in the darkness, making both men turn their heads. As the sounds grew closer, Anders took Simon's face in his hands, those familiar hands that sent sparks skittering across his skin, and kissed him. "I'm sorry," he whispered against Simon's lips. "I'm so sorry. Please just let me go."
He turned and ran, not looking back as Simon called for him to wait. The sounds of people approaching grew closer, and two NCR troopers came into the light, one of them a woman that Simon actually knew by name. They unwittingly stayed his chase, as he explained the disguised Legionnaires, as the troopers told him how two soldiers from their station had in fact gone missing, and the men in these uniforms definitely weren't them. Simon tried to appear like he was still there. Like he wasn't already out of there, crossing the Mojave, searching for Anders.
Re: M!Courier/? - Remain Nameless [3d/?]
Date: 2011-11-22 12:04 am (UTC)Confession: when I first saw the name Anders I thought this was going to be a Dragon Age crossover and nearly closed the tab. Glad I kept reading, this is great!
A!A here
Date: 2011-11-22 12:18 am (UTC)Re: M!Courier/? - Remain Nameless [3d/?]OP
Date: 2011-11-22 01:10 am (UTC)I think I'm in love with Anders now. Seriously. I adore the dialogue between him and Simon. The way they tease each other is amazing.
Re: M!Courier/? - Remain Nameless [3d/?]
Date: 2011-11-23 08:03 pm (UTC)Re: M!Courier/? - Remain Nameless [3d/?]
Date: 2011-11-26 06:25 am (UTC)Re: M!Courier/? - Remain Nameless [3d/?]
Date: 2011-11-26 10:00 am (UTC)That it turned out to be a less commonly used character is a feature, not a bug.