Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

I.

The town’s siren had a piercing high-pitched wail that was able to cut through even the strongest windstorms of the desert, alerting everyone in the small village to whatever danger was approaching. Normally when it sounded, it was due to a group of raiders wandering close by or some cazadores that needed to be taken care of by whichever townsperson could get to their gun fast enough. During the almost two weeks she had been staying in the small cluster of pre-war houses and makeshift shacks that made up the town, the siren had only been used once for a stray radscorpion that wandered too close to the brahmin pen.  

But tonight was different. Even as she sat in her temporary home, a small tin hut on the far edge of town, she knew that its tinny wailing warned of a different danger, something separate from a bug or cluster of idiots whose only thought was their next kill. Her gut instinct hasn’t failed her yet- she considered it one of the best survival tools in the wastes, better than any Pip-Boy or hit of Jet. 

Ena rose from where she’d been sitting all night, cleaning her knife and trying to avoid the restless energy that always filled her late in the night when she was settled somewhere. Shit. A cursory peek out of the single window had confirmed her fears: in the distance, a red and gold banner flapped in the wind high above the mercifully small group of quickly approaching men. It was a sight she had imagined many times, though she never thought she’d actually see it. 

Caesar’s Legion had come to town. 

The sight of the Legion’s approach snapped her into action. She sent up a quick thank you to whatever deity had blessed her with the luck to be on the opposite side of town from their approach. But she knew that luck would only take her so far and she would have to do something to ensure that she survived the forthcoming encounter.  Because like all women living in the wasteland, she was all too aware about what would happen to her if she were taken captive. In her mind there was only one real option (besides death, of course). And even if her idea failed, she could at least say she tried.

Soon, doors were slamming in the distance, both from people trying to escape the attack and from soldiers forcing their way into the homes, ransacking and taking whatever they wanted. Shouts and screams soon followed, echoing through the otherwise quiet desert night. She didn’t have time to wonder why they decided to attack this town that was barely a blip on the map- all she needed to focus on was making sure that she wasn't a casualty of it. 

In the suitcase she had been living out of were a few necessary items for her plan, which had been concocted months ago, though she had foolishly thought she’d never actually have to go through with it. It was incredibly risky but it was the only way to survive an attack and still have a chance for an easy escape later.   

Stripping herself of her current shirt, she picked up the roll of bandages she'd tucked away in the pocket of the suitcase for emergencies. She gave herself only a moment to look down on the roll, thinking about what she was about to do, before she took a deep breath and began unraveling the bandages. Then, taking the end in one hand and holding the excess fabric taut, she started to wrap the gauze around her chest. It would constrict her breathing, which she knew wasn’t sustainable and that she would certainly pay for it later, but the only other option was to admit defeat and allow herself to be taken as a slave. 

And that… was simply not an option.

The gauze was rough on her skin, but it did a good enough job of compressing her breasts to make them appear like a flat chest underneath the loose tunic she took from the suitcase. Her frame was already fairly shapeless, wiry with some muscles due to wandering through the wasteland, which only succeeded in making her look scrappy. But she had never been particularly feminine looking,  something that she hoped would be enough. It needed to be. 

When she was done, she gave herself a brief glance in the mirror, her reflection barely visible through the low light of the shack and the dark blotches that littered its surface. Her body looked… fine and would hopefully be enough to convince the soldiers that she was a man. 

Now she had to focus on the only other aspect of her appearance that would definitely give them pause and reason to reconsider the lie she was telling them: her hair. 

One house down, a door slammed. The soldiers were quickly approaching, their shouts and footsteps only growing louder with every passing minute. There were some sounds of struggle- gunfight and grunting- and she knew there were at least a few town members who would not go down to the bull without a fight. 

Without thinking twice, she snatched a pair of rusty scissors off the dresser and began cutting her hair. Strands fell in chunks around her as she practically hacked away, strands catching on her clothes. Her work was rushed, less concerned with aesthetics than getting it off of her head. She’d seen plenty of men with bad haircuts in her wanderings, she just had to pass as one of them. The Legion certainly wasn't a beauty pageant. 

With a final rough pull of the scissors, her hair now lay on her head in jagged strands that stuck up at odd, jagged angles. It looked like she’d stuck her finger in an electrical outlet. Around her on the floor were the chunks of hair that had fallen, and she hurriedly kicked her feet against them to scatter the strands before bending and picking up the larger locks and shoving them into a drawer. 

If she had been smarter, she would have kept her hair cropped when she wandered closer to Legion territory. It would also generally be more practical to keep it short, but the length she had it at before was good for protecting her neck from the desert sun. And to keep it short would have been to accept the fear that the very situation she was in could actually happen, that her emergency plan of disguising herself might actually be a necessity one day. It was much easier to ignore it, to pretend like there wasn’t that looming threat hanging over her head whenever she strayed too close to the Colorado River. 

After she cast a final glance around the shack that had been her home for only a brief moment in time, she pulled her threadbare shoes on and left the building in a hurry, not looking back at any of the items she was leaving behind. Most of them didn't have sentimental value, anyway. And she wasn't going to wait around on her bed for the Legionaries to find her and drag her out. 

The air outside was tainted with the lingering scent of gunpowder, fiery and acrid. Smoke rose from the center of town, black and blotting out the stars above them. She had only been in the town for two weeks, yet the thought of it in ruin was nauseating, the thought of every kind person she'd met here baring witness to this tragedy like a vice grip on her heart. No one deserved this. And she was certain there was nothing in town that could have drawn the Legion's attention but their own bloodlust and greed. 

Members of the Legion were shouting at the men to gather in the small town square, the soldiers dragging those that didn’t comply along the ground while they scratched against the hands that held them. She tried not to look them in the eyes as they were thrown on the gravel road in the center of town. Some stayed down while others stood, dusting themselves off and holding their heads high. Both were forms of defiance. 

She hid towards the back of the miniscule crowd, though she made sure that there were enough men behind her that she wasn't near those soldiers at the back either. She wanted to bring as little attention to herself as possible, it was the only way to ensure her survival. 

“Line them up.” 

A man wearing what looked to be the skin of a coyote on his head ordered the soldiers, who complied quickly and quietly. He was the obvious leader of the group, if the commanding way he spoke was anything to go off of. The tip of a gun poked into her back, urging her forward with its silent threat. She resisted her desire to scowl- she didn't want to do anything that may draw the leader’s ire and instead kept her face carefully blank. 

Despite her earlier effort to stay in the center of the crowd, she ended up towards the end of the line of men, almost completely towards the left. But this new spot in the square gave her a full view of what the Legion had done to the small town, and she had to hold back a gasp at the sight of destruction and ruin. 

Where there was once a humble spattering of wooden structures, there was now the sight of a massacre. Bodies lay on the ground from where they’d tried to fight and failed, blood and gore surrounding them. Doors stood open, their gaping maws revealing the destruction inside the homes, items strewn about carelessly as if the soldiers had been searching for something. One of the buildings was burning, smoke billowing out of its open windows and cracks in the wood paneling. 

Worse than the sight of the wanton destruction of the town was the surviving women- they were huddled together in a group to the side, a few soldiers gathered around them to keep them corralled. One of the women met Ena’s eyes across the square, her eyebrows furrowing as she tried to place her face before they widened in recognition and realization. Luckily, the woman seemed to understand the dire situation and kept quiet, nervously glancing at the soldier next to her. 

“We did not come here to kill you.” The leader walked down the line, his cold eyes roving over the group like a cat observing its prey. “We will even give you a choice, a luxury few have. You can join us.” His smile was cruel, white teeth glinting in the wavering light of the torches. In the low light, his canine's seemed sharpened, ready for blood. She kept her head down, eyes focused on a spot of dirt a few feet away. “And if you do not wish to join us, then we have no use for you.” 

The line shifted uneasily as everyone understood what he meant: we will kill you .

The leader then approached the right side of the line. The tension in her shoulders lessened slightly, relieved that she wouldn’t be among the first the leader questioned. He pulled his weapon from its sheath, a Ripper that looked like it was well taken care of, though not without a few rust colored stains to indicate its ruthlessness. The teeth of the weapon whirred to life as the leader stalked towards his first victim. 

The first man in the line was a NCR trooper on leave and visiting family for the week. Ena had talked to him briefly on one of her first nights in the town, just a brief exchange about his hopes for the future of the Mojave. He had seemed idealistic to her, something that was rare to come by in the desert. Optimism was like a bad drug. She spared a quick glance down the line at him and saw that he now sported a bloodied lip and quickly swelling eye. He had been one of the ones fighting, then, while she had been busy disguising herself. 

The leader pointed the Ripper at him, raising his eyebrows in question. Join or die?

A moment passed where everything was silent before the trooper spat blood at the leader’s feet.

“I would rather die than join you.” His voice was not at all like Ena remembered, thick with hatred and anger. The leader looked down at the splatter of saliva on the dirt, his expression disinterested- almost bored at this man’s display of defiance- before meeting the trooper’s gaze again. 

“Then you will die.” The Ripper tore through the flesh of the trooper’s neck easily, the jagged teeth immediately spilling blood and tearing through skin and muscle as if there was no resistance. The trooper gasped wetly, his throat creating an awful gurgling as he struggled to breath against the onslaught of blood entering his lungs. After a prolonged moment of nothing but the sounds of him dying and the hum of the ripper, the man fell to the ground, silent. 

Once again, Ena spared a shocked look his way before the sight of his body crumpled on the ground jolted her back to her earlier stance. In her time wandering the wastes, she had seen much violence (and had even been the cause of some of it). But this was so senseless, so cruel. And it only served as a reminder that the same weapon might meet her own throat soon, that she needed to be very careful with how she proceeded.  

After witnessing the fate of the trooper, any nerve the other men had to stand up to the Legion disappeared. One by one, men who had numerous times vocally railed against them chose to join their ranks instead of dying. Only one or two of the ten men rounded up chose death, their bodies falling as quickly as the trooper’s had. If nothing else, she was grateful that they did not suffer long, though their last few moments may have been nothing but blinding pain as they suffocated on their own blood. 

When it was her turn, the Ripper now pointed at her throat, she couldn’t bring herself to look up from her feet, too afraid that her eyes would give everything away. Her voice was barely louder than a squeak, or a whispered breath, as she mustered out weakly: “Join.” 

The leader didn’t move, didn’t move on like she’d thought he would, his job with her done. Instead he spoke to her, his voice pointed and sharp. 

“Look up.” 

Swallowing around the lump in her throat, she forced her head upwards, jutting her chin out defiantly. The light from the flames continued to dance across the man’s pale face, but she didn’t have the time to fully take in his features, her fear too great. All she could see were his eyes, cold and cruel and completely unreadable. 

Then the man’s eyes narrowed, a miniscule movement that she only noticed because she were staring so intently into his, praying that he wouldn’t suspect her of being anything other than a young man-

“Say it again.” 

He hadn’t asked anyone else to repeat themselves. She maintained eye contact as she forced herself, once again, to speak. Now was not the time to panic that he was asking her to speak more when he definitely heard her the first time.

This time, she willed her voice to be stronger, though she remembered to pitch it slightly lower at the last second. Not too much so that she wouldn’t be able to keep it up for the foreseeable future, but just low enough that her voice wouldn’t immediately give her away. 

“I’ll join.” 

Unlike with the other men, he didn’t immediately move on to the last person in line. He cocked his head to the side, the Ripper still whirring only centimeters away from her neck as he observed her. The mechanical blades created a slight wind that brushed against the sensitive skin of her neck, the light breath of death.

“What is your name?”

Once again, he was asking her something that he hadn’t asked the others. She faltered, her heart skipping a beat as she tried not to blink in bewilderment. She had not thought of a fake name yet, a piece of the plan so glaringly obvious that it was astounding she hadn’t thought of it. How many nights had she spent mulling over her plan, how many minutes had she wasted thinking about every aspect of this plan except her name? She cast around in her head, but she seemed to have forgotten every name except her own, which wasn't masculine at all. It had only been a few seconds since he’d asked her but each one dragged on as she tried to remember a name, any name, that she could give him. The sound of the Ripper’s teeth only seemed to grow louder and maybe she was imagining it but it seemed to nudge closer to her throat before she finally spat out the first name she could think of. 

“Daniel.” 

Out of the corner of her eye she could see the person to her right, a young man they just called Happy around town (despite the fact that he never seemed happy), as he looked over at her, a brief shadow of confusion crossing his face. If her luck continued to hold, he wouldn’t recognize her and just think she was someone passing by the village at the wrong time who got caught up in the attack. She kept her gaze on the man in front of her and couldn’t tell when Happy looked away from her. 

“Daniel?” The leader repeated, looking down his nose at her. “It doesn’t suit you.” 

She frowned at the odd insult, wondering why on earth he cared. The leader was about to continue to the last person in line when she spoke up again, despite her better judgement and any promise she had made to herself to fly under the radar. “And who are you?” 

He stopped in his footsteps, looking back at her with a pinched expression, his eyes searching her face. Like he couldn’t decide if she was actually being serious right now, either with her question or the fact that she dared to ask it in the first place. But she was growing tired of not having a name to assign to the man currently responsible for turning her life upside down in the matter of fifteen minutes. One could only call someone ‘the leader’ in their head for so long before it started to become annoying.

When he spoke again his voice was lower like he was only directing it at her. Yet it was no less intense, no less piercing. It sent shivers down her spine and not in a pleasant way- more like when she was camping out late at night and heard a deathclaw's roar in the distance. His voice was nothing but a warning of danger, entirely meant for her.  

“Vulpes Inculta. And you’d do best to remember it.” 

II.

The women burned. The Legion did not need more slaves , they said. Ena wasn’t sure she believed them. She’d tried not to see as she was made to watch them force the women onto the pyre, trying not to think of the fact that she had only barely escaped that fate herself. If they found her out, what would happen to her? Would she be burned too or would they take her as a slave? Or worse, would she be crucified and made an example of? 

She forced the thoughts and fears from her head as she walked away from the village, resisting the urge to give the soldier marching next to her the side eye. Besides, she was too busy trying to forget the stench of burning flesh and the sound of the women's screams as they slowly died from smoke inhalation. 

The soldiers did not restrain the seven men who were joining them and they all understood it was not done as a favor to them. They were instead given packs to carry on their backs which were filled to the brim with supplies and spoils from the town. The legionary who watched her put the bag on her back had given it a rough slap once it was on, a gesture which had caused her to stumble forward slightly as she struggled to regain her balance with the extra weight. He'd only chuckled. 

They walked from the town in a single line with legionaries stationed along them, making sure none of them had any ideas about making a run for it. Not that they could run anyway, not with the weight of the bags on their backs. They’d be killed before it was even off of their bodies. The group of men were silent as they walked through the dark morning, the sun not yet risen. The only sound was the clanging of the supplies in their packs, the shifting of the soldiers’ weapons against their uniforms, and their own footsteps beneath them on the desert floor. 

She could still smell the burnt bodies, even when the smoke was barely a blot on the landscape behind them.

Ahead of them was a long day under the Mojave sun, the cool desert night quickly melting away into a hot morning and hotter afternoon with no shade to alleviate it. 

In her own wanderings she had walked long and far but never like this. When she was alone, she could take her time and stop whenever she needed rest or shelter from the unrelenting heat. She was never in a rush to get anywhere, only moving depending on her own timeline and the itch in her feet that urged her on through the desert. She had no responsibilities but to keep herself alive. But with the Legion marching alongside them, they were pushed at a pace that was just fast enough for them to be constantly out of breath and they did not stop, not for water and certainly not to rest. 

A cursory glance to the legionary at her side revealed that at least he, too, was sweating bullets down his face, though his face was set in a harsh expression as he focused on moving forward. Was he just so disciplined that he was able to ignore it, or did he know that there was nothing to be done about it?  

The legionaries hadn’t said how far away their destination was. For all she knew, the Legion was just marching them to their deaths, the heavy packs on their back nothing but an extra punishment for daring to be in a town they wanted to pillage. Perhaps there was nothing of worth inside of them, and this was just a way for the men to get their sadistic kicks from people who couldn't say no. 

Then, finally, an hour after the sun had set, the leader- Vulpes Inculta, she reminded herself- stopped the group, saying that they could rest for the night in a small alcove created by a cluster of large boulders at the top of a nearby hill. A temporary end was in sight.  

As soon as they stopped walking, she dropped the pack from her shoulders, rubbing the sore spots the straps had left behind. She half-expected someone to yell at her for seeming too eager to be done for the night, but everyone seemed too occupied with their own relief to chastise her. But she knew it was barely a reprieve as within eight hours, the bag would be on her back again and she would have to walk for who-knows-how-long. 

They had no bedrolls or tents and were instead instructed to lay on the cold earth. However, since none of the new recruits had ever lived cushy lives, this was not necessarily a punishment but an unfortunate fact of life. Almost everyone in the wasteland had needed to sleep on the ground at some point and none of them were going to complain when the only other option was to continue walking through the night. 

Like a well oiled machine, one of the legionaries quietly began building a fire while the new recruits nervously watched, wondering if they should offer help or stay to the side. In the end, they were just told to sit down and wait. 

Dinner was the uncooked boxes of Blamco Mac’n’Cheese the men had taken from the town. The noodles had never been her favorite meal, but after the long day of walking she practically inhaled her share, only to frown with disappointment when the box was empty. 

With the sun already set, nobody had any desires but to go to sleep, something Vulpes Inculta seemed to understand as he addressed the group briefly (his words meant entirely for the new recruits).

“If any of you think about leaving in the middle of the night, we will find you.” His eyes shifted over the group of recruits, resting for a moment on Ena before continuing on to someone else. She couldn't tell if she was the only one he did this to. “And your end will not be pleasant- there is no mercy in the Legion for deserters.” 

With a turn of his body, he dismissed them. Each found their own spot, trying to claim as much space as they could from the others. Ena found herself towards the center of the group, and she moved so she was as close as possible to the boulders to have some semblance of privacy. 

The fire died out with no one tending it, the last embers glowing brilliantly before faltering and fading. 

Ena stared up at the stars, using the pack she’d carried like an incredibly hard pillow. Somewhere, her parents could be looking up at the same stars. They probably thought she was safe- she’d sent a letter by way of a courier to them only a week ago, along with a handful of NCR bills that she had no use for. If the letter hadn’t been delivered to them by now, it was bound to reach them within a few days. 

She liked that they would think she was safe, although maybe it would be easier for them if they thought she was dead. 

Snores gently rose from the sleeping men within minutes of the group laying down. Nothing drained someone’s energy quite like a long grueling walk under an unforgiving sun. And we have another one ahead of us tomorrow, she thought with a grimace. And even then, whenever they arrived at their destination, it wouldn't be a release, but a new reality filled with training and fighting for a cause she didn't believe in.  

Gingerly, she sat up from her reclined position on the ground, pulling her knees to chest as she looked around at the men who were now asleep. It wasn’t peaceful, but they were so tired from the day’s journey that she couldn’t blame them. She was about to lie back down and try to sleep when she had a thought, like a hissed whisper in the back of her brain.

Leave, leave now.

If she was smart, she could use the brief moment of the legionaries letting their guard down to disappear into the night. The idea took root in her mind, despite Vulpes Inculta’s threat from earlier. Sure, they could chase her down. But she might make it. 

The siren song of the desert- and of freedom- was too strong for her to ignore it, and it was those thoughts that spurred the itch in her feet to start up again. The desire to be on her own and doing whatever she wanted, living on her terms and answering to no one. Freedom could be hers again if she played her cards right. (And how nice would that be- to escape during her first night with no blood spilled? To not have to worry about surviving training or how she was going to continue this masquerade?) 

Ena stood, dusting herself of the dirt and sand that had stuck to her pants, and began walking to the end of the cluster of boulders, trying to keep her feet light so as not to wake any of the men. She rounded the first boulder, peeking around the rock at the dark Mojave. 

Freedom. 

Only to freeze when someone spoke, his voice frighteningly close to her ear. 

“Where do you think you’re going?” 

Shit. 

Slowly, she turned to face whoever had caught her, her mind racing. It had been a bit of a long shot that she would succeed in escaping so early on and she should have known there would be someone keeping watch (it was stupid not to). She just didn’t expect it to be the leader of the group. 

Vulpes Inculta was watching her think through her answer to his question with his arms crossed, waiting for her to speak. Maybe if she kept this behavior up, he’d just think she took a very long time to answer every question and it wouldn’t be suspicious anymore.

“The… bathroom.” 

“Most men just piss five steps away from their bedroll.” He said, lifting his chin as if to look at her closer. He was much closer than she’d have liked, with only a foot or two distance between them. He’d moved as well so that he stood between her and the other side of the boulder, effectively blocking her from the desert. 

“I… have to take a shit.” She forced the words out of her mouth. 

Inculta blinked at her. She did her best to turn her nerves into a look of discomfort at admitting the urge to complete a basic human function. 

“Fine.” 

She began to walk past him when he spoke again.  

“Remember, if you run, we will catch you.” He said. She paused, turning her head slightly to look back at him. He was doing the same. 

“I won’t.”  

His words echoed in her head as she made her way around the boulder, carefully running her hands along the rock to avoid slipping down the slope. It was much steeper on this side of the rocks, the hill leading down to a wide valley of widely dispersed tumbleweeds and bushes. 

She sighed, looking around to make sure he hadn’t followed her. 

Might as well take advantage of this moment. After all, like he said, everyone else was able to just take care of their business where they stood. She was not.

Once she was sure that Vulpes wouldn’t be able to hear what she was doing, she undid her pants and relieved herself in a bush. She wasn’t sure what she would do when they arrived at the Legion’s camp, but there was nothing she could do about that now. When she was finished, she stood, redoing her pants and smoothing the fabric out. 

Tracing her hand along the rock again, she spared one more glance out over the wide expanse of the Mojave again, unable to ignore the longing pulling at her chest, the metaphorical itch in her feet unbearable. 

I could do it. I could run. I’m fast, faster than they’d probably expect. And it’s only Vulpes awake right now, he’d have to wake the others before chasing me down. I’d have a fighting chance. 

Her feet scraped against the rock as she moved, the sound barely discernible over the sounds of the desert when-

“What is taking you so long?” 

Startled, she looked over at Vulpes, and though she tried her best she wasn’t entirely sure her yearning expression was gone. He looked out at the desert, as if he knew exactly what she had been doing before, before his eyes slid back to her.

“Get back to the camp, profligate.”

She didn’t move. She didn’t dare protest that she didn’t even fit the actual definition of profligate as her life so far was hardly an example of wasteful extravagance. She hadn’t even visited New Vegas and only owned what she could carry on her own back. Certainly not a wasteful lifestyle (not that it mattered to the Legion- anyone who wasn’t under their banner was a waste.) 

“Profligate? I thought that we were a part of the Legion now.” 

“You haven’t proved your loyalty.” He scoffed. 

She stared at him for a moment before shrugging. “I didn’t run when I could have.” 

“That proves only that you’re smart enough to not run when you’re outnumbered.” He raised his eyebrow as if to say: and don’t pretend like you weren’t thinking about it. 

She resisted the urge to roll her eyes and went to step around him when he stopped her with a hand to the chest. She tensed, hoping he wouldn’t feel the thick wrapping of gauze under her tunic and know what it was and what it was doing on her torso. Even though she was considered a taller woman before, she was shorter than him by a few inches, which was enough of a difference for her to have to tilt her head upwards slightly to look him in the eye in this close proximity.  

“I’m surprised you didn’t know who I was earlier.” He spoke with thinly veiled arrogance. 

“Are you important?” The only member of Caesar’s Legion she knew by name was Caesar, everyone else she was aware of by just their titles and rank. Still, she didn’t know much. Even though she had spent the better part of three years terrified of them, she did her best to not let them occupy more brain space than necessary. And that meant not learning about individual members. 

“Most anyone who has been anywhere on this side of the river knows who I am.” 

It was a vague statement, though it still dripped with arrogance. She shifted her weight, trying to get a hold on the conversation and the underlying meanings he laced into every word. Was he genuinely offended that she hadn’t known who he was, or was there an underlying meaning to his questions? Was he trying to get her to tell him where she was from, information that most wastelanders kept close to their chest, if just to have something about them that was private? 

She didn’t want Inculta nosing his way into her business, into places he had no right to be. Because if he found out one thing about her, he was a step closer to uncovering her true identity. And that, obviously , was not ideal.  

“Well, I didn’t.” She didn’t say it as a jab towards him, more a defense of herself and her lifestyle choices that had led her to not knowing this apparently obvious piece of information. His eyes narrowed in response. 

“You should be careful how you speak to me.” 

Instead of tempting fate further- luck was a fickle thing - she just nodded. He stared at her for a moment longer before his eyes slid up to her hair. Swallowing thickly, she waited for him to say something about its rough cut but after a moment he let her pass. 

With quick feet, she returned to her spot on the ground without looking back at Inculta, afraid that if she looked over she’d see him still staring at her with that same calculating look in his eyes. Maybe he was just wondering what happened to her hair to make it so choppy and mismanaged. Maybe she had nothing to worry about in his gaze. 

But still, she couldn’t shake the feeling that he already had her figured out. It would be best, she decided, to avoid him and his piercing eyes at all costs. The less he focused on her, the better. 

The next morning, they were woken by the rough shouts of the legionaries at the break of dawn, the sky a pale cloudless blue above them. Breakfast was a beige colored mashed mixture of razorgrain and corn with the consistency of a gritty sludge. Despite the bland flavor and odd texture of the porridge, she eagerly ate it all and only barely resisted licking the tin can it was served to her in. After the day of walking yesterday and their meager dinner, her stomach was aching for more food. But seconds were off the table for everyone, including the seasoned legionaries. 

When the temporary camp was packed up (and said packs being hefted onto the new recruits backs), the group began its journey again. One of the legionaries said that if they walked quickly enough, they would make it to Cottonwood Cove by nightfall (words that only served to put a slight pep in their steps, as it still meant almost twelve hours of walking). She searched her memory, trying to remember if she’d heard of that place before but only came up empty. All she could do was hope that it was their final destination and not just a pit stop. 

About ten minutes into their walking, she sped up slightly to speak to Happy, who was walking in front of her, the metal in her pack clanging together at the movement. It was the same man who had looked at her the morning before when she was being questioned by Inculta, and though she desperately wanted to ask if he knew her secret, she didn’t want to risk one of the others hearing in the close proximity. 

Instead, she breached the other burning topic in her brain, hoping he may have answers for her. If Vulpes Inculta was as well known on this side of the river as he said, surely the others had heard of him.  

“So, about Vulpes…” She started to say, but Happy shook his head, looking nervously to the side. 

“Stop whispering over there.” One of the legionaries marching alongside them snapped. “And get back in line, you.” 

Sending one last look at Happy, which he did not return, she fell back behind him with a huff, adjusting her pack in a futile effort to make it more comfortable. The straps dug into her shoulders, rubbing them raw and sending a shock of pain through her system randomly. 

It was going to be a long day . 

As they walked, she kept her head bowed against the harsh heat of the sun, which in turn only exposed her neck to its rays ( surely it was burnt red by now ). Sweat dripped down her face, but wiping it away was just an exercise in futility as more would immediately replace it. Instead, she just spat it out on the dirt when it had  collected enough in her mouth to do so, marking her path with small splotches of saliva like decidedly gross breadcrumbs. 

They continued on, the Mojave sun high in the sky above them, and instead of turning her thoughts to the fears of the future, she returned to her memories to pass the time. Her mother and father had been stern in the way parents had to be in the wastes. They withheld affection, though once she made it past the age of ten they started to open up to her more. They explained that there was no use putting too much love into a child that might die (either from the elements or the inhabitants of the wastes). Once you could defend yourself sufficiently, they said , then we allowed ourselves to get to know you . 

She couldn’t fault their logic, even if it had left her touch-starved and pining for whatever scraps of affection she could get from the strangers she met in her travels (which had, in turn, led to a few sticky situations). But that distance had also allowed her to leave without any tears on the part of either party. She wanted to explore beyond the ramshackle settlement she grew up in, and her parents knew nothing they said would stop her. 

It’s been six years since she’d left home, though she returned occasionally to visit. Their reunions were short and she often left with a few more caps and a stimpack or two tucked into her pocket. Even if they hadn’t shown affection to her growing up, it was through the clinking in her caps tin and the piercing sting of a needle in her arm that she felt their love. 

But look where that wandering had got her- stuck in a line of men ambling to their deaths. It might not be soon, but the Legion only had use for men to bolster their numbers and die for their cause. They did not care about the survival of anyone but Caesar, his legacy and his empire the only thing worth preserving. 

She was brought out of her musing by a few rapid fire shots from one of the legionary's guns. Peeking around the line in front of her, she saw three dead radscorpions on the road in front of them, dispatched effectively by one of the soldiers before the animals had even noticed the approaching group. The line of men hadn’t even stopped walking, just continuing their march towards Cottonwood Cove (whatever that may be). 

While Ena may have been well-traveled, she only learned the names of places she either intended to visit or return to in the future. Places mentioned in passing didn’t stick in her mind- if she was destined to find it, she would find it on her own time. If Cottonwood Cove was among those places people told her about, she didn’t remember it. But the legionaries spoke about it with familiarity, leading her to believe that even if it wasn't their final stop, it would be a significant location for them.

The sun had just started to set when there was a shift in the environment, miniscule enough that she only picked up on it when she noticed the legionaries' posture relax slightly, their gait more comfortable.  

The first real sign that they were in Legion territory was the blood red banner flapping in the wind by the side of the road. She had no idea if they were getting any closer to their destination, but just the possibility that a reprieve from the heavy pack on her shoulders was enough to make her back straighten slightly and for her to pick up her pace. 

They continued walking, occasionally passing another banner or other indication of the Legion's presence. 

When they began to ascend a low hill, she could see a couple thin figures in the distance. At first she thought they were trees, but trees didn’t quite look like that. Then, as they reached the crest of the hill, she could finally make out what the strange figures she had seen were and almost recoiled in shock. 

Bodies, hanging off of crucifixes made from telephone polls and dead trees. The victims were either whimpering from the pain and exhaustion, silently begging for death, or already quiet and still. She made the mistake of looking upwards at the first one they passed and couldn’t contain her startled gasp at what she saw. Birds had pecked out his eyes, leaving empty sockets in their place, crusted blood staining his cheeks. Small chunks of his flesh were missing as well, most likely due to the same birds that took his eyes. 

After that, she didn’t look at the crucified bodies as they passed, keeping her eyes carefully averted, even as the ones that were still alive begged them for mercy. 

Though night was falling, their path was lit well by the torches that lined the road, their flames dancing in the slight breeze from the river. With every step, they approached closer to the end of this journey and her nerves mounted. It was one thing to convince a handful of Legionaries that she was a man. It would be an entirely different beast to maintain the ruse without arousing suspicion amid hundreds of men. Details she hadn’t fully thought through in her rush to disguise herself flooded her mind, all tiny aspects to life that were going to significantly complicate things. 

Showering, going to the bathroom, changing, her period. All things she would have to figure out how to navigate without alerting anyone to her secret. 

And then, they passed the sign welcoming them to Cottonwood Cove and the legionary stationed at the checkpoint nodded them in.

She was in the belly of the beast now with no sword to cut herself out.  

III.

Cottonwood Cove consisted of a smattering of buildings, dotted along the dark banks of the river. They were instructed to take their packs to the mess hall and hand them off to the slave working there, then get their supplies for the next few days. After that, they were to return to the small grouping of tents where they’d sleep for the night. 

The mess hall was located off the docks, a long building with a few windows and a single door leading inside. There were hinges on the doorframe that suggested there had once been a screen door, though it was long gone.

Ena followed the group into the small building, shutting the door behind her.   

Inside, there was a collection of wooden tables with chairs, their cushions stained and dirty. Old, pre-war posters were fixed to the walls along with ropes and tattered banners. A small alcove in the wall held the stove and refrigerator, counters stacked with pots and pans that had been cleaned as well as they could be. A silent jukebox was pressed against one wall, dimly glowing in the dark. 

It was empty of people with the exception of a lone woman clearing a table of its mess. She looked up at the group, her gaze dropping to the packs they held before she dropped her rag onto the table and approached. 

“We have, um, things-” The man who she had walked up to started talking. Ena had never heard him speak before, his voice thin and reedy.

“Spoils, no doubt.” She held her hands out, accepting his pack into arms. She didn’t struggle under the weight, instead deftly flipping it open. “I’ll take the food items, the others can go to the supply shed, it’s on the other side of the Cove.” The woman said, taking one of the packs and peering inside. “This’ll do for a week or two.” 

“Only two weeks?” One of the other men at the front of the group asked, incredulous. All of that damage and death, just for supplies that wouldn’t even last them a month? Ena narrowed her eyes at her bag. Something wasn’t quite adding up. 

“There’s a lot of men here.” The woman shrugged, putting the bag aside and beginning to sort through what was inside, putting the food on the counter and leaving the scraps. “It would last even less time up at the Fort.” 

Ena was the last to hand her pack over, watching as the other woman sorted through the bags and sent the men out of the building one by one. When it was finally her turn, now alone in the mess hall, Ena stepped forward, holding her bag out for the woman to take. 

But the woman didn’t take it at first. 

Instead, the woman searched Ena’s face with her gaze, before meeting her eyes and giving her an imperceptible, knowing nod. Ena’s grip on the pack faltered, the straps slipping from her hand and the contents of the bag scattering to the ground. She dropped to her knees immediately to start picking up the mess, and watched out of the corner of her eye as the other woman also bent to clean up. 

“You don’t have to-” Ena started to say, but the woman quieted her, pressing one of the containers of wonderglue that had spilled from the bag into her hand. 

“It’s easier this way.” 

The two women stood, eyes locked. 

“I’m Heather, by the way. Head cook down here.” She rested her hand on her hip before she paused, contemplating for a moment. “Well, the only cook down here.” 

“Right.”

Heather looked like she wanted to say something else, her mouth parting for a moment before closing. 

“I’m… Daniel.” The name still felt unfamiliar on her lips. She wasn’t sure it would ever feel normal, if she would ever be able to say it without feeling like everyone could tell she was lying. 

“Right.” Heather nodded. “You might want to sound more confident in yourself- it can make people overlook a lot of things if you’re confident. The Legion might not have my keen eyes, but they can sniff out insecurity like a gambler sniffs out fallen chips on the floor of a casino.” 

Ena nodded, unsure of what else to say. Heather was… not what she had expected. More so, her ability to see through Ena almost immediately didn’t bode well for the rest of her time with the Legion. Would she go outside only to be met with confusion and derision by the soldiers before they took her captive? 

Feeling like she had a rock in her stomach, Ena raised a hand in farewell to Heather before taking the pack and leaving the mess hall, the door swinging shut behind her with a slam. Without the food inside the bag, it was significantly lighter and the walk to the supply shed was relatively painless. 

When Ena reached the squat supply shed, she opened the door only to see the group she had traveled in all holding uniforms. A man walked up to her, snatching the pack from her bags and shoving it onto a shelf before storming across the room. She watched, wincing when he turned and looked right back at her.  

“You’re running late, get over here.” The man snapped and despite her pride, she scrambled to obey. “Take care of that hair quickly, I don’t have all night.” The soldier handed her a razor, pointedly looking at the mess of hair on her head. He then let her go, walking to one of the other men who was being outfitted with his uniform. 

She looked down at the razor in her hand before taking a deep breath and putting it to her head. This was not the time to lament her loss of hair and identity. She could do that later. Row after row, she shaved the last fragments of her hair away, the tuffs falling on her shoulders. When she was finally done she passed it to the next man without looking at them, too busy staring at her new reflection. 

She leaned towards the mirror, running a trembling hand over her head. Where there was once long hair she now only had stubble. She had to remind herself again: now is not the time . 

The other men shaved their heads without hesitation, though most of them barely had any hair to begin with. 

The soldier working in the supply building handed her the recruit uniform, the fabric rough in her hands. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw as Happy adjusted his stance, blocking her body from the view of the soldier. Without questioning the blessing, she quickly stripped off her tunic and pulled the red one on over her head, her heart racing. When no one exclaimed, she knew she’d gotten away with it. 

Now she only has to do that everyday for the foreseeable future. Easy peasy. 

She caught a final glimpse of herself in the mirror and stifled a cry. She was well aware what would happen to her when she concocted her plan to hide within the Legion’s ranks, but actually seeing herself in the uniform was jarring. 

The red tunic was bright against her skin, the skirt heavier on her waist than she’d expected. Though she had none of the armor on, she could barely recognize herself. She imagined what she would look like with the armor and a helmet on, slightly bulked up from training. She would be a completely different person. 

She just hoped in that training they didn’t change who she was inside. 

Before she left, the man working the supply closet shoved a pair of boots into her arms. They were well-worn and she knew without needing to be told that their previous owner was dead. Were the Legion’s soldiers buried with any possessions, or were they so determined to be non-wasteful that they wouldn’t allow their dead that privilege? Or was it just the boots that were salvaged because good cobblers were harder to find out there than fresh water?

When she slipped the boots on, they were slightly larger than her actual feet, the extra room allowing her to wiggle her toes. She made a mental note to stuff extra cotton inside the toe when she had the ability. 

With a final dismissive wave of the soldier, she was allowed to leave. They’d been told that there was a tent with a few unclaimed bedrolls in it where they’d sleep for the night. She wasn’t sure if that tent was always empty for new arrivals or if the previous owners had simply never returned. Either way, she was grateful to actually have somewhere to sleep that wasn’t on the cold, harsh earth. 

She began walking past the small collection of buildings to where there were a few rows of tents, when a hand shot out from between two of the cinder block buildings and grabbed her arm, pulling her into the tight alleyway. She struggled momentarily before she saw who it was, though it didn’t lessen her confusion. 

“I know.” Happy said. 

“Know what?” She asked, pulling her arm back, and using her faux concern for its well being to hide the panic that sprung up at his words. 

“C’mon. The town wasn’t that big. I know… knew everyone. Even the wanderers that would stay for a week or two.” 

“Are you going to tell?” How she wished she had her gun, something to give her leverage over the man. She could imagine the look of fear on his face as she pressed the gun up under his jaw. She didn’t think of herself as a particularly violent person, not in the way some people were. But that didn’t mean she hadn’t done her fair share of killing and cruelty in the name of her own survival or occasional morbid curiosity.

“What? No.” He scowled in disgust that she’d even suggest it. “I don’t care about the Legion and I wouldn’t want anyone to be enslaved because of me.” 

“So why are you telling me?” 

“I’m telling you because I can help you out.” 

“And you’d help me because…?” 

“Because it’s the right thing to do?”

She blinked at him, taken slightly aback. This kind of selflessness was uncommon in the wasteland. Even when people offered to help you, they would either die in the process or demand an exorbitant amount of caps in return. 

Still slightly suspicious of the man in front of her, she stepped away. “Fine.” 

“But I did want to ask you- why?”

“What do you mean, why ?” She scoffed. “You saw what happened to those women in town. They weren’t even taken as captives. They were tied up and thrown onto a pyre. I’d be dead right now if I hadn’t thought to disguise myself. And I’m going to stay like this until I figure out how to escape.” 

She didn’t wait for him to respond, instead stalking out of the alleyway and back on her original path towards the tents. 

The next morning, she rose, wincing as her back protested against the movement. The other men were still asleep, dawn having barely arrived over the river.  Their tent was situated in the middle of the camp, definitely to keep them from trying to escape in the middle of the night. She slept in the clothes they had given her the night before, a fact she was grateful for as she could put off changing for just a little bit longer. 

After her last conversation with Vulpes Inculta, she knew that her escape would have to be more thought out than just running when the opportunity presented itself. As much as she didn’t want to, it was looking like she was going to have to go through training while doing her best to fly under the radar. She would just have to trust that an opportunity to easily escape would arise. 

A few minutes later, a horn sounded over the Cove, men grumbling as they woke up and began shambling towards the mess hall or doing their morning duties. She peeked out of the tent, watching for a moment before sighing and sitting back to pull her boots onto her feet. Happy had just stood up from his own bedroll beside hers, shuffling out of the tent awkwardly before looking back at her. 

“Breakfast?” 

She nodded, standing up and walking with him back to the mess hall. 

Inside it was deafening, despite the small space. Men talking and even laughing filled the tables, eating whatever concoction Heather had pieced together for breakfast that day. Ena casted her gaze around, searching for any familiar faces, but it seemed the group that had escorted them to the Cove were gone now. 

Ena approached the table that had shallow bowls with food in it, another female slave standing by and watching over it with a glazed look in her eyes. Ena grabbed a bowl without making eye contact with the slave, guilt twisting her insides, turning and following Happy, where he was headed to a table with only two other legionaries dining at it. 

When Happy sat down, the other men looked up at them, giving them both a once over. Taking in the newbies.

“New recruits?” One of them asked, raising an eyebrow. 

“You could say so.” Happy said, though his expression was bitter. He’s going to have to control that before we really get into it, or he’s going to have a hard time, she thought. 

“You’ll get used to it.” The other responded, before introducing himself as Liam and the other man as Sextus. 

As Ena looked around her, at the men sitting and shouting over their breakfast, some of them still covered in rusty stains on their skin and darkened fingernails, she couldn’t imagine a world where she ever got used to this. Surrounded by men with the only women in chains, surrounded by violence and bloodlust at all times of day. 

“Is this where we’ll be staying?” She asked, remembering at the last second to lower her voice. No one noticed. 

“Nah, I suspect they’ll take you up to the Fort later. That’s where most of the training happens now. This is just our outpost on this side of the river.” He took a scoop of his breakfast, shoving it into his mouth before he continued talking. She tried not to focus on the sight of the porridge in his mouth while he spoke. “It’s good to keep a foothold over here, to make sure the NCR doesn’t get too comfortable.”

She took a bite of the porridge, grimacing slightly at its taste. Someone had added a little too much salt flavoring to the mixture. As she swallowed, she thought of something to ask her table mates, since they seemed receptive and not as intense as the men who had escorted them to the Cove. 

“What do you know about Vulpes Inculta?”

The two legionaries exchanged a look, grimacing and raising their eyebrows, before Liam leaned forward conspiratorially. 

“Not much. He’s close to Caesar and is the head of the Frumentarii.” The way he said it made it seem like it was something distasteful, though she didn't know why. At her slightly confused look he elaborated. “Intelligence agents.”

“They’re spies?” She asked in surprise, furrowing her brows. “Then why were they bothering-“

“It’s best not to think too hard about their motives. They do a lot of things for Caesar, you know, not just spying.” 

“And you’d better be careful because he can learn things about you that you didn’t even know. Mars knows how he finds it out.” Sextus adds on as a warning, giving them a pointed look. Guard your secrets with your life, he seemed to say.

She took another painful spoonful of porridge to prevent the men from seeing the worried frown that Sextus’s words had caused. She thought back to the night on the road, how his eyes had seemed to see right through her. His prying words, how he seemed to know exactly what she was thinking as she was thinking it.

If two people already had her figured out, was it only a matter of time before the man who apparently knew everyone’s secrets figured it out too? But he must not know for certain, or else she wouldn’t be sitting at a table, eating breakfast and preparing for her uncertain future. He would have unmasked her and killed her if he knew she was a woman in disguise, right?

She stared down at the remaining mush, her hunger gone. She needed to be careful, more careful than she already had been, especially if she was going to travel to the Fort, where it would be much harder to escape, given that it’s located in Legion territory and filled to the brim with soldiers. She had no idea how she would even try, or if she was going to have to bid her time and take the first opportunity she had.

But more than that, she needed to do everything in her power to keep Vulpes Inculta from finding out anything else about her. Which, if Sextus was to be believed, might prove to be more difficult than it seemed.  

Chapter Text

IV.

They left Cottonwood Cove at twilight, the world dyed an eerie blue and the river dark beneath the moonless sky. They had spent the earlier part of the day resting, something they were told was only allowed because Cursor Lucullus, who ran the ferry service to the Fort, wasn’t back from his last journey yet. Along with them were a few other legionaries who had arrived from the wastes and needed passage to the Fort. 

They were to arrive at the Fort in the early morning and begin their training at dawn. Whenever Ena thought about it, a knot twisted in her stomach. It was one thing to say she was going to join the Legion and even to plan to do so- it was a completely different thing to actually go through with it. What if she didn’t survive training? What if she was found out during the process- god , she hadn’t even thought about the possibilities of physical examinations. And didn’t the Legion have a child quota they expected their soldiers to fulfill? She prayed that she’d be long gone before she was expected to do that . 

She crossed her arms against the wind and her thoughts, trying not to look as distressed as she was feeling. It would do no good to come across nervous before she even arrived at the Fort. She was already at a disadvantage due to her size, she couldn’t seem meek as well. 

The raft shifted and swayed under their feet, Cottonwood Cove slowly shrinking in the distance. Ena was fighting against the movement of the raft, trying to remain upright without stumbling. Two legionaries were sitting, their postures tired. The group of seven men she had come in with were all still standing, though they had separated into four groups. From the looks of it, no one wanted to talk. 

Well, almost no one. 

“What are you thinking about?” 

Happy stood by her side. When he spoke, she looked over at him from the corner of her eye, trying to get a read on him. He gained nothing from keeping her secret- eventually, he’ll ask for something in return, right? After all, exposing her could lead to his own social betterment. He may claim to hate the Legion now, but how long will that last with the Legion’s indoctrination? 

“Nothing.”

“Really? I feel like my mind’s been going a mile a minute since we left Junk-shun.”

Oh, that’s what the town was called. Though now it was just a cluster of abandoned houses and ashes . 

From her few interactions with him already, she had not expected Happy to be the talkative type. Despite his name, he had seemed very morose the few times she had seen him around Junk-shun. 

“You’ll be fine.” Her voice was flat and unconvincing. It was almost dismissive, though she was trying to not antagonize the only person who has offered to help her. She just found it hard to comfort anyone when they were in the same figurative (and literal) boat. Especially not when she arguably had many more things to worry about.  

“This is my first time out on my own.” He said, as if this was a fun adventure. She wondered, despite hearing his expressed distaste for the Legion, if he actually comprehended what their life was going to be like now. That they weren’t going to just go back home in a few days, that for him there was no home anymore. 

“What?” She looked over at him, an action so sharp he startled backwards slightly. “You’ve never left that town?”

“Well, once or twice, but never like this.” He gestured around them. She just shrugged and returned to her earlier position, facing the river. 

“I don’t think any of us have done this before.” 

“But you’ve… wandered.”

“Yep.” She popped the end of the word, not wanting to get into her personal experiences. She didn’t know how to explain that just because she’d left her home and walked all over the wastes, it didn’t mean she was better suited to handle their current situation. If anything, the confidence brought to her by being on her own might be the very reason she was in this mess in the first place. 

Silence fell between them that she was not overly eager to dispel. She was perfectly content to just watch the dark waters of the Colorado River until they reached the Fort. While she wasn’t free standing on the raft and staring down at the rushing water, she wanted to enjoy the last few minutes before the rest of her freedom was taken away from her and replaced with a rigorous training routine that she wasn’t sure she’d survive. 

Whispers of other conversations floated past her, the other men talking amongst themselves. She sat back on her haunches, not enough at ease to sit down on the raft but her legs were getting tired from standing for so long. And it wasn’t like she’d get much of a rest when they reached the Fort- they’d have maybe five hours of sleep before they’d have to be awake for training. 

After that, she’d just have to play each day by ear. 

Ena looked up at the sky. The moon wasn’t out tonight, now just a large black rock in the sky, but the stars certainly were, winking down at her. Though she’d never visited New Vegas, she’d certainly gotten close enough to know that the lights of the city blotted out the stars. She wasn’t sure how the people in the city could live like that- their priorities were very different from hers. 

The raft creaked, Lucullus maneuvering it to the other side of the river. He told them to get up and move towards the front to help it float in the correct direction. The few experienced legionaries had already done so, not breaking from talking to each other as they moved to stand in their new spots. This must be the standard for traveling on the raft, then. 

After a few more minutes of coasting on the other side of the river, the large hill that they had gently been moving towards loomed above them. 

The Fort.  

Lucullus tied the raft to a ramshackle dock on the shores of the river, hopping up onto the platform and watching as the other men followed. Once they had all disembarked, he led them to the first large wooden wall surrounding the Fort. Torches lined the sides of the path. 

“ Ave , true to Caesar.” Lucullus greeted the man at the gate. The gatekeeper returned the greeting, nodding and looking over the group. Ena watched them carefully, mentally making note of their mannerisms and tucking it away in her head. The gatekeeper nodded as well to the returning legionaries, before stopping on the new men who were standing awkwardly towards the side. Despite being dressed in the same clothing as the other men sans armor, Ena felt she looked like a child playing dress-up. 

“Some new recruits.” The gatekeeper said. It wasn’t a question. Lucullus nodded. “Good. We need them.” 

With that, they were waved into the Fort, the gatekeeper nodding to them as they passed. 

Luckily, they had already surrendered any weapons at Cottonwood Cove so Lucullus was able to hand them off immediately to another man who was to take them to the tent they’d be staying in while they were still training.  

Despite their late arrival time, the Fort still had quite a few occupants awake. Men keeping watch, enslaved women carrying bags and supplies up the many stairs, a few teenagers horsing around by a lit fire. But every tent they passed was also full of sleeping men, their bodies splayed out as far as their limited space would let them. Ena must have looked like her head was on a swivel as she tried to capture as much information as she could. Everything was just so different, so unusual, so… new . 

There were multiple sections of the Fort, all leading up the side of the mountain-like hill, but no one was going to bother giving them a tour. They’d learn through experience. All she knew was Caesar’s tent was at the top of the hill and her tent was on one of the lower levels (along with the other trainees). Not the lowest, which was what she had expected. But she quickly realized that she wouldn’t be able to easily slip out and escape in the middle of the night because of this, which must have been their intention. It was the same reason you didn’t let children walk at the end of the line- if they weren’t watched, they would wander . 

Ena looked around the surrounding area, almost comically relieved when she saw a cinder block bathhouse not too far away. She had no idea if it was still usable, but she would find a way to use the privacy it offered to her advantage. 

The inside of the tent was no different than the one they had slept in at Cottonwood Cove- four bedrolls, each with a foot locker to keep their supplies in. An unlit lantern sat on a crate in the middle. She quickly claimed the spot farthest away from the main footpath through the camp, though the other side was clearly used for travel as well. 

Eyes were everywhere, it would seem. 

Opening the footlocker revealed it wasn’t completely empty, a stray pouch of a powder she didn’t recognize and a rusted switchblade were tucked away inside. She didn’t take them out, instead placing her few belongings inside. They’d given them a spare change of clothes and a single purified water when they’d arrived. With a metallic snap, she shut the foot locker and settled on her bedroll without looking at the other men. 

She stared at the canvas wall, trying to block out the unfamiliar sounds of the Fort. 

Before she could stop herself, she wondered just where Vulpes Inculta slept. Was he in a tent like hers, or did he get a special tent for being so close to Caesar and the leader of the frumentarii? She shook her head. That information was not important to the task at hand. Who cared where a man like him slept? She pushed the thoughts away and lay down, asleep before her head hit the pillow. 

Sometimes waking up was gradual, but other times it hit one suddenly, like they’ve been shocked out of it. That was how Ena woke up on her first morning in the Fort, only a few hours after she’d fallen asleep.

Her eyes popped open, staring up at the canvas roof of the tent. Every time she’s awakened the past few days, she has hoped to find herself back in her tiny shack or by a campfire on her lonesome. Hoping that her journey with the Legion had been a horrible dream, one that she wouldn’t have to worry about anymore. 

She shifted, trying not to make too much noise as she found her way onto her hands and knees. There was no elegant way to leave a tent this short, her movements slow as she crawled out of her bedroll and into the camp.

She had no idea what time it was, but knew that she needed to be quick. Fixing her boots onto her feet, she began to walk to the cinder block building she had spotted last night. 

It was blissfully empty inside. Only one of the stalls still had its door and she made a beeline for it, ignoring the stained and cracked toilets that seemed to leer at her from the open ones. Despite the bathroom being empty, she didn’t want to waste any time, not knowing when others would start to enter the building. 

Locking the door behind her, she leaned back against it and sighed. It was her first moment of true privacy in days, without having a man staring her down or making a joke about the slaves that she pretended not to hear. Without the threat of Happy saying something too loud or someone like Vulpes finding her and trying to get her to confess her secrets. 

Running her hands over her face (and then, over her scalp as if to remind herself of what the stubble felt like), she exhaled deep. Then, when her breath caught, she stared down at herself and peeled her tunic off of her body. Finding the edge of the bandages again was easy, her fingers slowly unwrapping the tape from her chest. 

As she unwound the bandages, she winced as her ribs now fought to expand back to their usual size after being compressed. But for the first time since she’d been taken, she allowed herself to breathe fully. She imagined her ribs creaking and groaning in her chest as they fought against the form they’d been forced into for the past three days. And she’d just have to rebind them in a minute after letting herself breathe for a brief moment. 

Though she’d soon be physically exerting herself to a point she never had before- even with her limited knowledge of the Legion, she knew their training was incredibly rigorous- she’d have to do it successfully with compressed lungs. Might as well take advantage of the brief respite the bathroom lended her. 

After a few minutes of just standing in the stall and breathing slowly, she knew she’d have to rebind herself. It was more painful this time, her skin and muscle protesting against the tight bandage. She simply gritted her teeth, trying to wrap it tight enough to conceal her breasts without constricting her breathing too much. After all, passing out would likely only lead to her secret being revealed. She was lucky the Legion tunic they’d given her was loose on her body, the fabric hanging off of her frame and hiding her few curves. 

Ena knew that every single day she was going to fear that it was the day she would finally be discovered. That every day would be a gamble, hoping that she would do enough to keep suspicious eyes off of her back.  

She opened the stall, stepping back out into the bathroom. She had no idea if men would soon come into the building to take care of their own business but she didn’t want to risk running into any unfamiliar faces yet. As she left the cinderblock building, a trumpet sounded somewhere in the camp, followed by the grumbles of hundreds of waking men. She hurried her step, wanting to return to her tent before the other new recruits were gathered up by their instructor to begin training. 

When she got there, Happy gave her a relieved smile, still sitting on his bedroll and blinking blearily, clearly still drowsy from sleep. 

“I was wondering whether you’d been-”

“I’m here now.” She said, cutting him off before he could say anything incriminating. She didn’t trust the tent walls to keep her secrets, and especially the other men in their tent. “Do you have any idea what we’re supposed to do?”

“Um, I’m not sure-”

At that moment, a rough voice barked at them to exit the tent. Glancing at Happy as he struggled to stand, Ena rounded the outside of the tent. A large man was waiting outside, his arms crossed as he watched the new recruits quickly gather.

“I will be your instructor while you train to fight for Caesar. This will not be easy, nor will I accept anything less than perfection.” He looked over the men from the two tents, his eyes hidden behind sunglasses. Then he smiled like he was baring his teeth. “Let’s begin.”  

VI.

Ena didn’t think of herself as being particularly out of shape- she couldn’t be, not with her lifestyle. Being out of shape was a privilege few could afford in the wasteland. 

But Legion training was kicking her ass , to put it lightly.

Every morning, the first thing they would do was run up and down the steps leading to the top of the Fort, all while being threatened by their instructor. This would last for as long as the instructor saw fit, anywhere from thirty minutes to two hours. Once the instructor decided they had suffered there for long enough, they would do regimented exercises, usually abdomen exercises or push-ups. A couple hundred or so sets of these were mandatory each day. If you faltered or fell while trying to lower yourself from your push-up, everyone had to do more, a collective punishment for the sins of the weakest link. 

Ena was desperate to never be the one to make the other men do more work, though they didn’t seem to have that same resolve. Almost once a day, they were ordered to do more push-ups or to run the steps ten more times because someone fell behind or tripped. The offended party was met with jeers and nasty looks, but Ena couldn’t be bothered to participate. 

After that, they were allowed to grab lunch. They were the last group to go and barely had anything for each meal. The enslaved women serving the food had to scrap the sides of the giant pots that held the food to get enough to fill their bowl halfway. Still, they eagerly gobbled the mush up as if it were their mom’s best Brahmin steak. 

Once lunch was done, they had combat training. She had been fairly talented at avoiding conflict in the Wastes, keenly aware of her surroundings. When she did happen upon aggressive groups of raiders, she was able to hold her own until she could escape. 

The Legion, however, promoted diving head first into hand-on-hand combat, essentially strong-arming their way to victory. NCR favored long-range weapons whilst the Legion preferred melee- if one could get close enough to disarm a ranger, they could take them down easily with their machete. 

They spent long hours either practicing their form against the training dummies or with each other, sparring until their muscles ached and screamed for rest. 

Her first day sparring with another recruit had left her laying on her back in the dirt, wincing as she pulled herself back onto her feet before the instructor could threaten to kill her for being lazy. It seemed that the Legion-approved method of fighting first and thinking later wouldn’t work for her. But she didn’t dare try something teary hadn’t been directly taught, afraid of standing out. 

She quickly learned that the best way to stay under the radar was to aim to be in the middle of the pack at all times- never to be the last one running, never to be the first one finished with her meal. Even if this meant pushing herself to be faster as she ran, even if it meant dealing with the ache of pulled muscles and overexerted limbs later. Even if it meant carefully pacing herself as she ate when all she wanted to do was shovel her food into her mouth and leave to be alone for a few moments. Survival meant being average.  

After two weeks of training, she had concocted a routine that left her with little to no suspicion. She woke up before most everyone else, though there were always a few men milling about and women doing whatever they had been ordered to do. This was good- it raised less suspicion if she wasn’t the only one doing it. Then she would go to the bathroom and take care of herself- allowing herself to breathe, relieving herself. She considered herself lucky that the plumbing seemed to work fine, even if it struggled sometimes. She would spot clean herself, and though she never felt quite clean, as long as she didn’t smell rancid she considered it a job well done. 

She considered herself lucky that it seemed the abundance of exercise and lack of nutrition had pushed her period away, though every time she was alone she checked for the telltale spotting of blood in her drawers. But so far, so good.  

Once she was done in the bathroom and if she still had time before breakfast was ready, she would take the time to really stretch . Despite the amount of training they did, stretching seemed to have been mostly left out of the regimen and she needed it. Her joints were constantly aching from how hard she pushed herself, her muscles sore. 

She knew she was becoming stronger, even though she hadn’t seen herself in a real mirror in days. The tunic they had given her became tighter, the legs of her boots less loose around her calves (though the feet were still slightly too large, leading to her seeming clumsier than she actually was). 

After that, she would go to the tent where meals were cooked and grab her portion, either eating alone or with Happy if she wanted to have a conversation. While Happy had kept her secret and didn’t seem keen on sharing it, she didn’t feel the need to get too close to him. (Besides, he often ate with men she wasn’t familiar with, laughing and horsing around with them like they were lifelong friends. The first morning she’d seen him like that, her hands wrapped around a lukewarm bowl of grub as she surveyed the eating area with tired eyes for a place to sit, she’d squashed any melancholy the sight had inspired within her. Instead, she sat alone at the first empty bench, ignoring the profound loneliness that had hit her then. She didn’t have time to wallow, she didn’t have the luxury of thinking about how afraid she was that Happy would turn against her and tell his Legion friends her secret-) 

She had learned very quickly to talk as little as possible, both to keep her from speaking her mind too freely and to better hide her inconsistency in how deep her voice was. Better to be thought of as a silent man than speak and have everyone figure her out when she inevitably messed up. 

And she did mess up, though she almost always caught herself immediately and pretended otherwise. 

But there were times when the other men said things so heinous that she had to clench her jaw so tightly her teeth would creak to keep from confronting them about it. What was worse was seeing the men she had known in Junk-shun nodding along, agreeing with the same ideas that they had been vocally against weeks ago. 

She watched Happy carefully in these moments, only minimally relieved when he seemed uncomfortable. But how long could he last against the bombardment of ideas? How long could any man last against that blatant indoctrination? The only reason Ena wasn’t affected was because she either tuned them out when they started speaking or because she existed as a direct contradiction to their beliefs about women. Every time they talked about how women were nothing but a set of holes and a womb, she reminded herself that her few victories in training were proof they were wrong. 

Then, on the morning of her fifteenth day in the Fort, there was a wrench thrown in her carefully crafted morning routine, an icy cold reminder that there were other forces at play in keeping her secret besides her own ability to remain under the radar. 

She rose like normal, wiping sleep away from her eyes and making her way to the bathroom when she stopped short. 

In front of the bathrooms was the last man she wanted to see. She rarely saw him around the camp, as he was much too busy to deal with trainees, but the few times she did see him, he always looked at her in the same way he had on the journey to Cottonwood Cove. 

Like he knew too much.

“ Ave , true to Caesar.” Vulpes was standing right in front of the door, blocking the entrance from her. He didn’t wait for her to return the greeting before continuing. “You’re up early.” 

“I’m a morning person- I’m always up this early.” She didn’t look at him at first, wiping her hands on her tunic, if just to give herself something to do. Her body had gotten used to the routine and her lungs ached for the brief reprieve she always gave them in the morning before she rebandaged herself. “Are you spying on me?”

“No.”

“...Would you tell me if you were?”

He didn’t answer, though when she finally gathered the courage to look up at him, his eyes were narrowed with barely concealed mirth. 

“Well, whatever you are doing, I’m sure you have better things to do than ask a lowly recruit what sh-” She stopped herself, blood draining from her face at her slip up. Mentally, she was screaming at herself for being so careless. And in front of the one man who probably wouldn’t see it as the mistake she would try to play it off as. 

It was quiet.

“...What shit he’s doing.” It was a bad recovery. Probably the worst recovery from a fuck up there has ever been. He even gave her a look that said so, that said come on, now, you’re better than that, surely?

She suddenly had the impression that she was an animal standing in the jaws of a trap, clueless to when the teeth would snap shut around her. 

“Watch yourself, Daniel .” The knowing, snide way Vulpes said her fake name shouldn’t have done anything but make her afraid.   

She wanted to ask him why he cared. Didn’t he have better things to do than talk to her? Instead, she nodded once and pushed past him, careful to avoid touching him. 

Shaken, Ena entered the bathroom but didn’t dare go through with her usual routine. Instead she pressed her back against the door, forcing herself to take deep breaths as she listened for his departure. He didn’t know anything. She was safe, for now. 

After that interaction, her awareness of Vulpes Inculta’s presence heightened and the fact that, despite what he said, he seemed to be watching her. Sometimes, in the morning, she’d approach the bathrooms to see him there, like he was waiting for her to slip up. Most days when she saw him there, she would ignore him and enter the bathroom without looking at him. At meal times, she would turn and see him looking at her, eyebrows raised like he wasn’t ashamed at being caught in his staring. And she knew exactly why he acted that way.

Because, if he knew her secret, what was she going to do about it? What could she do about it that wouldn’t also bite her in the ass? He was close to Caesar and he was one of the most cunning men in the Legion. At his word, she could be strung up and left for dead, or outfitted with a slave collar and forced to live the rest of her life as nothing but a piece of meat or breeding stock. 

But something about turning and seeing him watching her from a distance made her blood freeze. A few times she was tempted to flip him the bird but stopped before she could act too impulsively. She knew better than to directly antagonize him. Not when she was stuck in a society that favored a rigid hierarchy, and not when she was almost at the bottom of said hierarchy.  

The next time she saw him waiting by the bathroom in the morning, about a week after her first encounter with him, she simply walked past him like she hadn’t noticed him in the first place. Of course, he caught the door before it swung shut, following her into the building. 

“I wonder what it is you do in here every day.” He broke the silence first, tilting his head to the side. The way he spoke was like he just wanted to have a normal conversation with her, but she was hesitant to believe any front he put on. She’d seen what he could do, the sight and smell of the women’s bodies burning still fresh in her mind.  

“Why are you watching me?” It was like she forgot that he had any power over her. That he wasn’t capable of incredible cruelty. 

“You’re a fool if you think I’d be unable to recognize a spy within my midst. And such a poor one at that.” His voice wasn’t accusing or inflammatory, he was simply stating a fact. 

She didn’t respond for a moment, her mind reeling as she tried to comprehend what he’d just said to her. He thought she was a spy ? Could it be that he didn’t actually know her sex at all and was wary of her for a completely different reason? But if that’s what he thought, why hasn’t he done anything about it? Why was he, for lack of a better word, playing with her? (Maybe playing with his food was a better analogy.) 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She’s careful to maintain eye contact as she says this, even if every part of her wanted to look away from him, to run back to her tent (as if he wouldn’t just follow her until he was done talking to her). If she broke eye contact with him, it would only seem more suspicious.

“Really?” He said flatly.

“If that’s what you think, why don’t you just expose me?” She was playing with fire. 

“Is that what you want?” 

“I’m not a spy.”

“If you aren’t a spy, then I don’t-” He stopped himself, pulling back slightly to look at her. She hated being this close to him. His eyes were too calculating, too knowing. It was like he was seeing past the guise of Daniel and into the truth of Ena. It was… uncomfortable . Any notion she had had of him not knowing who she was dissipated with a single withering glare. “What exactly is your plan?”

“To survive.” The less she said to him, the better. Besides, he had no right to know what she was thinking. 

Vulpes narrowed his eyes, working his jaw back and forth. But when he spoke, his voice was carefully casual. 

“If you want to continue surviving, I suggest you stop speaking to your superiors like you’re on the same level as them.”

“I-” She was barely able to get the syllable out before he continued, stalking closer to her. 

“The punishment for disrespect is a lashing.” He continued, tilting his head to the side. She backed away, but was only able to move a few steps before her back hit the wall. Thankfully, he stopped with enough space between them to keep her from feeling caged in, though it was still too close for comfort. “I would think someone in your position would understand why that isn’t a good prospect.”

The blood drained from her face as she listened to his words. He knows. He knows and he’s just toying with me instead of turning me in. Why? So I’ll owe him something? Or was he waiting for me to get comfortable before revealing me, was he waiting for more evidence?  

Even though she had suspected as much, his words were a nail in the coffin. Still, she shook her head. She would pretend he knew nothing until he made it impossible to- until he made it absolutely clear that he knew she was a woman, until he confronted her about it or exposed her to the Legion. She would not be the one to admit it. Let him be the one to prove her guilt.

“And what position is that?”

“The inferior one.” 

She adjusted her footing, trying not to look as unnerved by the conversation as she was. She started to inch towards the bathroom door, an effective dismissal in most situations, when he spoke again. 

“You will meet Caesar and pledge your loyalty to him tomorrow.” 

“Is that so?” She hummed, looking back at him, thinking carefully over her next words, all while still slowly moving towards the exit. “I look forward to it.”

She was lying- she had absolutely no desire to meet Caesar, and certainly held no desire to pledge her undying loyalty to him. But there was nothing she could do about it that wouldn’t end with her body tied to a cross or her head on a spike, so she said nothing else and walked out of the bathroom. She’d much rather deal with the pain of not letting her chest breathe than spend another second alone under Vulpes’s knowing eyes. 

As she continued to the mess tent, she resisted the urge to turn and look back at the building, deciding she didn’t want to know if Vulpes was watching her still. 

Just as Vulpes had said, the new recruits were summoned into Caesar’s tent the next day. At the very top of the hill, the frankly extravagant tent sat overlooking everyone and everything in the Fort. Inside, they were lined up across from the throne of Caesar, who had been sitting and waiting for them, his expression looking like he’d much rather be doing anything else. 

Much to Ena’s dismay, Vulpes was standing right beside Caesar, lazily watching along with him as they filed inside behind their instructor. 

“You have been training for two weeks now, shedding blood and sweat to join our ranks.” Caesar began, his beady eyes roaming over the group. They didn’t stop on any member, like he didn’t care to actually remember their faces at all. 

Vulpes, on the other hand, had his gaze securely fixed in front of him, not even acknowledging the recruits. Ena kept her gaze lowered, focused somewhere on Caesar’s feet. 

One by one, they were beckoned towards Caesar and told to kneel, kissing the weathered ring on his hand and pledging fealty to him. When it was her turn, almost exactly halfway down the line of men, she took a deep breath. She met Caesar’s eyes for a moment before averting her gaze downward. If he noticed anything off about her appearance, he didn’t mention it. 

Vulpes watched her from beside Caesar as she knelt by his feet. His hand was held out, weathered with age. She stared at it for a moment before pressing her closed mouth to his ring, a humiliating show of submission that felt like razor blades on her spine. 

When she lifted her eyes, she couldn’t help but look over at Vulpes, who was now staring right at her. 

VI.

Though she had now pledged her loyalty to Caesar, they were not done with their training. If anything, it seemed to become more vigorous now that they had passed through the first stage, moving from simple conditioning to a majority of their day being spent sparring and practicing melee fighting techniques. (They still ran to continue building their endurance though Ena wondered if it wasn’t because their instructor liked to watch them suffer.)

They were told that if they survived this second half of training, they would then move on to actually fighting in battle. New recruits were given the worst armor, the worst weapons, and placed in objectively the worst spot for survival on the battlefield (also known as the front). 

Ena still struggled when sparring, trying to avoid her opponents hits more often than she tried to actually attack them. It didn’t help that the men she fought against didn’t give her time to breathe or strategize, simply running at her before knocking her over or 

“You fight like a girl!” The instructor yelled one day as she struggled to regain her footing on the dirt, her practice machete laying useless on the ground a few feet away. She gritted her teeth against the insult, though she desperately wanted to retort that some of the toughest fighters she’d met had been women. Luckily, the comment had apparently been hilarious to her sparring partner, and while he was distracted she surged forward and used his lack of attention to shoulder him on the chest, effectively throwing him off balance. Then, to prove that she had actually learned something during training, she swiped the man’s legs from under him, stepping back before he could fall against her.

She looked back at the instructor, trying not to seem smug as she raised her eyebrows as if to say “what now?” He simply scoffed and continued on to the next pair.  

One outcome of being officially deemed recruit legionaries and pledging themselves to Caesar was that men of higher ranks actually began taking notice of them. It was hardly ever in any beneficial way and mostly just to insult their low rank, but it was different than the way they would just ignore them before (with the exception of how Vulpes paid extra close attention to Ena, but that wasn’t exactly a compliment). Occasionally, they would even be allowed to listen in on a conversation, though they were expected to just laugh when appropriate and not actually contribute.  

Ena avoided these conversations like the plague. The Legion’s sense of humor wasn’t exactly her favorite, seeing how a majority of it revolved around the degradation and abuse of women. Whenever she found herself observing a conversation like that, it was all she could do to pretend to laugh along, though she could never make her smile meet her eyes and her laughs felt hollow in her chest.

But after another long day of failing to win any of her sparring matches (it seemed her resolve to stay in the middle of the pack was faltering now that hand-to-hand combat was the majority of their training) and being sucked into not one but two separate conversations. The first one was incredibly boring, some nonsense about a new fighting technique one of the soldiers was trying to get approved. 

The second, however, was simply infuriating. Tatius, a brute of a man who seemed to think that being vulgar was the same as having a personality, was detailing his recent abuse of a slave woman with animated facial features and crude language befitting a pig. The man made a vulgar motion with his hands and hips. The men who had gathered around to listen began to laugh and congratulate Tatius on his successful “conquest” of the unwilling woman. 

Despite her commitment to talking as little as possible, Ena couldn’t help when the words spilled from her mouth, cutting right through the laughter of the other men: “What the fuck is wrong with you?” 

Almost immediately, she knew she’d fucked up when he stopped laughing and puffed his chest up, inching closer to her with narrowed eyes. The men fell silent, watching with glee as Tatius approached her. 

“What did you just say to me, runt ?”

She looked around, but the men were either not looking at her with hidden smiles or completely focused on Tatius, eagerly waiting to see what he’d do. While none of the Legion men would react well to such a slight, it seemed she had managed to pick one of the worse ones. The kind who wouldn’t let her off with an insult and would demand immediate retribution for her defiance. 

“I just don’t think it’s very funny to joke about the women that way.” She said, trying to keep her voice neutral even if she felt like she was digging her own grave. Maybe if I speak in a calming manner he won’t - but before she could finish that train of thought, his hand reared back and delivered a harsh smack to her cheek, the obnoxious ring he wore catching and pulling her skin. She couldn’t hear whatever he said to her over the ringing in her ears. 

“Fuck!” She stumbled backwards, her hand immediately coming up to hold her cheek where he’d hit her. When she pulled her hand away, it came away with drops of blood. Tatius began approaching again, only to stop when a helmeted centurion paused as he walked by, calling his name. 

“Don’t hurt the new recruits too much, Tatius.” The centurion wasn’t exactly criticizing Tatius. If anything, his voice was playful as he turned to Ena. “You sound like a girl when you yell.” He said, chuckling as if this was an amusing situation. She tried not to glare at him. “Anyway, Tatius, you’re needed down at the river. You, uh, recruit- go to the medical tent for that cheek. Siri will give you something so you can at least eat later.”

Ena, still holding her jaw and blinking back tears from the pain, turned from the men and hurried away, heading towards the top of the hill. She had very few reasons to come up to the summit as a recruit, the only other time being when she’d pledged herself to Caesar. She spared a glance to his large tent, only to swiftly look away when the tent flap opened and a familiar figure stepped out. 

Of course . 

She ducked her head to avoid being spotted by Vulpes, though she was certain she could feel his eyes on her as she turned towards the medical tent. Luckily, she hadn’t had any real reason to come here yet, as any of the injuries she had sustained during training had been able to be healed with the powder provided to them or through gritting her teeth and bearing it. 

A short woman stood behind a table, fusing over a concoction of ground plants and water. 

“Are you Siri?” 

The woman nodded before she looked up at her, sighing at the sight of the bruised cut on her face. 

“...I have a cut.” Ena said lamely. Even though she had been ordered to the tent, she suddenly felt like it was a waste of time. Surely the cut would heal fine without medical intervention? But she let Siri inspect it, her careful eyes roaming over her cheek. 

“It’s superficial- it definitely looks worse than it is. I can clean it, but I don’t have any bandages to spare- you’ll just have to try to keep it clean yourself. Don’t sleep on that side. Use some healing powder on it, which should heal it within the next three days. Not as good as a stimpak, but you know…” She shrugged. 

“No chems.” Ena finished Siri’s thought for her. 

Siri gestured for Ena to follow, leading her into the tent. She pulled a small vial of rubbing alcohol off of the shelf, the bottle browned and stained with age. She then cut a small square of fabric off of a fraying and otherwise useless shirt, dabbing it with the alcohol. As she did this, she spoke, her voice hushed yet conversational.

“Heather told me about you.” 

Ena started, trying not to jostle Siri too much as she worked. 

“Heather? Down at Cottonwood Cove?”

“I spoke to her briefly a few weeks ago when she had to spend the day up here.” Siri gave no further context for Heather’s visit. “I can’t say I envy you, though I also can’t say I wouldn’t do the same if I were given the chance.” She raised the fabric, pausing before she touched Ena’s skin. “This will sting a little bit.”

“Right.” Ena winced as Siri patted the fabric against her wound, trying not to hiss in pain. Cleaning wounds was almost worse than receiving them, something she had thought to herself whenever she had to use some of her vodka on a cut when she’d been in the wastes. There was a point, early on in her wandering, when she’d only picked up alcohol to use on wounds. But as she became more experienced in her travels, the fewer wounds she received and the more alcohol she was able to actually enjoy. 

Not that drinking by herself felt any better than sitting by a campfire, treating her wounds alone. 

“If it’s any consultation, I wouldn’t have known if Heather hadn’t told me. The dirt definitely helps.”

“Have you been here long?” Ena wasn’t sure if it was a tactless question to ask but she did it anyway. Siri frowned, not looking Ena in the eyes when she answered, pretending to be too focused on her work.

“No. Not very long at all.” 

“And Heather?”

“Heather is one of the rare women who was born into the Legion.” Siri sighed and sat back. “The soldiers have a child quota to bring more soldiers in. Having girls is not exactly an option.”

Ena didn’t need to be told what happened to the unfortunate baby girls who were born in the Legion. The wasteland was already so inhospitable to infants, you would think any baby would be welcomed as the miracle it was. Most people didn’t know if they were even capable of having children until it happened. But the Legion didn’t think that way. If women were only good to them when they were able to carry children, girls had no purpose but to eat the food that could be eaten by a boy that would grow into a soldier.   

“You’re good to go.” Siri said, ending the conversation about Heather. Relieved, Ena stood. 

“Thank you, Siri.” 

“Don’t pick fights,” was Siri’s solemn farewell. Ena nodded, stepping out of the tent and trying not to rub her wound. Without thinking, she looked around before realizing that she was looking for Vulpes, half expecting him to be waiting for her outside the tent, his arms crossed like he needed to deliver another lecture. But he was nowhere to be found. 

Sighing and then wincing when it sent a sharp pain through her face, she made her way back to the gate. 

Weekends at the Fort consisted mainly of the same thing the weekdays did, with a single exception: the arena. A large clearing surrounded by hastily constructed walls on the top of the hill, almost right below the front of Caesar’s tent was the site of the Legion’s weekly entertainment. Mostly men volunteered to fight, to prove themselves worthy of their place in the Legion. The other men would gather to watch, cajoling those they wanted to lose and cheering those they wanted to win. 

Ena found it about as entertaining as she did most things in the Wasteland, which is to say not very entertaining at all. But seeing as not attending would be suspicious, she forced herself to gather with the other men every weekend to watch. At least it was a break from the otherwise constant training.  

The man who ran the arena, Otho, would routinely call for volunteers over the course of the day, usually from the newer recruits. Those who went in were stripped down (thankfully to their underclothes, she really didn’t want to see any Legion penises) and given a dull machete to fight with. It ended when the other yielded or was knocked unconscious. Or, in the absolute worst case scenario, killed. 

Despite the risk, the men still volunteered, giving her plenty of experience watching two men grapple with one another. And, she was loath to admit, there were times when she felt a sick sense of satisfaction watching these men fight until they were bloodied and begging for mercy. Not that she would ever admit that out loud.  

They stood in a crowd around the arena, waiting for the first pick of the day. Gambling was forbidden, though betting still happened and the men were eager to see if there was going to be easy money that day. 

“Who should we send into the arena today to prove themselves?” Otho yelled, looking out over the group of trainees. Ena tried to shrink herself down, tried to do her best to seem like an unappealing, uninteresting opponent. Surely, they’d want to send the larger, stronger men in for the possibility of a better show? The arena was one of the only ways men in the Legion had entertainment, and watching a small man be beaten up couldn’t be as compelling.

But, of course, there were always men who had vendettas against each other, or enjoyed watching the runts of the litter suffer.  

“Send Daniel in!” Tatius yelled over the clamoring crowd, throwing a scalding look her way. This must be another form of payback for what she’d done the other day. 

To step into the arena would be to face certain exposure. When they stripped her down to her underclothes, they would discover she was a woman. Heart racing, she shook her head, trying to shuffle away without looking like she was running from the prospect of the arena. If they thought she was trying to get out of it, it would only reinvigorate their desire to see her fight. At least some of the men had the decency to seem disappointed that she was picked, as the odds of her winning weren’t good. No one would bet on her. 

“No, I don’t wa-”

She had barely stammered out the words when a hand clapped down on her shoulder, squeezing slightly to keep her in place. She froze, expecting whoever had clamped his hand on her to push her towards the arena, her mind already racing with insane plans to get out of this situation. Maybe if she pretended to pass out they’d let her go? Who was she kidding, they’d probably just make her fight once she woke up .

Then the man holding her spoke, and any plans she had- no matter how flimsy- shattered. 

“ Daniel is needed elsewhere right now.” Even though he had no reason to be doing this, she didn’t need to turn around to see that it was Vulpes, his voice now horribly familiar to her. The warmth of his hand bled through the fabric of her sleeve, his grip like a vice. “Excuse us.”

She wasn’t sure if this was better than going into the arena. 

VII.

Vulpes had excused them from the other soldiers, barely waiting a moment for the crowd to part before he grabbed her upper arm and practically dragged her away. She followed, not from any eagerness to be alone with him but because his grip was so tight on her flesh that she feared he might pull her arm from its socket if she didn’t move with him. 

He led her through the camp, his grip on her arm not lessening. If anything, it seemed to become tighter the longer they walked. She had no idea where he could be taking her- she had never been in the part of camp they were walking through, the tents larger and men with much more impressive armor milling about. 

When he stopped in front of an unfamiliar tent, she tried to yank herself free. 

“Let me go-”

“Get in.” He practically shoved her into the tent, her feet stumbling over themselves. She barely had time to look around her surroundings, trying to figure out just where she’d been taken, when he spoke again, clearly frustrated. 

“Where is your sense of self-preservation?”

“I didn’t want to go to the arena, Tatius volunteered me.” She almost wanted to ask if he’d ever seen her sparring, though she was certain he had. That enough should have been evidence for why she didn’t want to enter the arena- she would probably be grievously injured if not killed . Better men than her had met their death through the arena fights. 

“It’s like you want to be caught.” 

“What do you mean-"

“I’m not an idiot, woman .” He spat the word out like it was poison. She jerked backwards, staring wide eyed at Vulpes. 

“W-what are you talking ab-” Her voice was loud, practically a surprised shout. 

“ Quiet .”

“Just how long have you-“ She lowers her volume, but drops any pretense of pretending her voice was deeper. It was a relief to hear her real voice again after weeks of using her forced deep inflection. She cleared her throat, unused to speaking in her natural register. “Just how long have you known?”

“No one needs ten seconds to say their name.” He paused. “And I heard your conversation with the slave woman in the medical tent.”

Since the first day then, when he’d asked her to lift her head towards him. He had known all along, and yet…

“Why haven’t you had me killed?”

Vulpes didn’t answer immediately, staring at her with an impassive expression. 

“I’d thought about it at first, though it was quite likely you wouldn’t be killed at all. And it wouldn’t reflect favorably on me if I was the one who brought a disguised woman into the camp, no matter what happened to her.” She grimaced, knowing that he would not lie about this. “But I have a proposition, in return for keeping your little secret.” 

She eyed him warily. The word proposition didn’t exactly scream pleasant dealings. More so, she knew that he was only giving her as much information as he decided necessary, that he was probably strategizing further than she was able to comprehend yet. 

“What if I don’t want to do whatever it is you want?” She pulled her eyes away from his, looking around the tent. It was larger than the others, with canvas walls and furniture. 

“This is not a favor. Do not forget that I just saved you from being exposed. But I will throw you back into the arena if it suits me. And then you will be taken as a slave once you are discovered. Am I wrong in believing that avoiding that particular fate is why you’ve started this… ruse in the first place?” 

As he talked she walked over to the small desk which was covered with scattered documents all written in a mixture of English and Latin, combined with what looked to be strings of coded messages. The idea that she was now indebted to him left her with a sour taste in her mouth and she grimaced at the papers. 

“I thought you thought I was a spy.” 

“I did.” He paused, huffing a humorless laugh. “But you are either the worst spy any faction has had the misfortune of employing, or you’re here for some other reason. I choose to believe the latter, given the evidence.” 

“I told you before, I’m only here for my survival.” She turned back to him. “What was this proposition?” 

Don’t make me regret this, don’t make me regret this, don’t make me regret this -

“There is an informant in New Vegas who plans to defect.” 

That was not what she was expecting, but significantly better than anything she had anticipated hearing from him. Because though he wasn’t known to partake in abusing the slaves, it didn’t mean it didn’t happen, and she had fully expected him to convince her to perform some sort of sexual act to prevent being exposed. 

Though she didn’t understand how the information he just gave her pertained to her situation or his proposition.

“Okay…?”

“We cannot let that happen.” At her raised eyebrow, he clarified. “The Legion, of course.” He looked to the side, almost nervously, before continuing reluctantly. It was the first time she had heard him sound like anything but a confident and cruel man. “ However , it would be beneficial to have a… woman there.” 

She wanted to retort that having a woman present shouldn’t be something done out of necessity, but rather a natural result of an integrated society. But as it was, the Legion did not have such a society and to say that would only derail the conversation into pointless bickering about things she couldn’t change. 

“And why is that?”

“He knows the Legion will send someone to speak with him. He’d be an idiot if he didn’t see it coming- and he isn’t. However, he’ll be expecting a man and thus has been constantly surrounded by guards and has not taken any private meetings.” 

The look Vulpes gave her then was pointed, dropping down quickly over her body before returning to her face. She didn’t know what purpose the glance served aside from making her feel like a piece of meat on a hook. 

“Ah. I see.” She pursed her lips, picking up a denarius and turning it over in her hand before putting it back on the desk to avoid looking him in the eyes. “You want me to seduce him.” 

“I assume that won’t be a problem?”

“I don’t like what you’re implying.” She said, though her words didn’t have the bite she wanted them to. Somehow, they had left her mouth with a hint of humor. She made sure to squash it when she continued. “Besides, why can’t you have someone else do it, a slave or sympathizer on the outside?”  

“If you don’t do this for me, I will send you into the arena.” His obvious side-stepping of her question only made her want to press him on it further. If he wanted her to be a part of this plan, he shouldn’t keep her in the dark. 

But then, something else was still bothering her, an obvious flaw in the plan. “You have to know I feel no loyalty to Caesar. What’s to keep me from running when we’re outside of Legion territory?”

She’d expected the question to stump him, but he answered it quickly. (She didn’t know why she felt the need to question him when his plan was the closest she would come to escaping.)

“Like it or not, you pledged yourself to him. Male or female, that doesn’t change. If you renege on that, assassins will hunt you down and they will not be as merciful as I have been.” 

She wanted to ask him again why he’d protected her secret in the first place. She’d been there for almost a month- certainly he hadn’t known about this informant for that long? But she was certain that if she asked, he would just sidestep the question again and give a noncommittal answer that did nothing but waste time. 

Whatever reasons he had for not revealing her were his secret until he chose to tell her. And that’s if he ever chose to tell her at all. 

“What excuse will you give for a recruit to be taken into your little group?”

“I’ll say I want you in the frumentarii .” He emphasized the name, seemingly irked at her diminutive description. “This can be your… trial.” 

“Is that how it normally works?”

“No.” He sighed, a crease forming between his eyebrows. “But you are slight. It won’t take long to convince Caesar that you would be of best use to the Legion in my corner than on the battlefield. He’ll be surprised you survived training this far in the first place, looking like that . It’s unprecedented but I’ll tell him you’d impressed me with your quick wit, or something that would lend itself to this task.” He looked at her, suddenly scrutinizing. “You ask a lot of questions.”

“There’s a lot I don’t know. And I like knowing things.” 

“You and I have that in common.” He smirked. “...Though I am much better at it.” 

“And yet, you want me to do this job with you.”

“The informant does not have any information we need right now, certainly not any information that would be gained by incessant questioning. We need to intimidate him into staying loyal .” He looked at her then. “And to remind him that no one can be trusted, not even a pretty face.” 

Ena blinked at him, mouth suddenly dry. Pretty . He’d called her pretty . Maybe it was just the month she’d spent surrounded only by men who thought she was also a probably malnourished and scrawny man, but warmth blossomed under her skin. 

She’d never put much stock in being considered an attractive woman- she found that it really only hurt you in the wasteland. Who knows what weirdos you’d meet in the desert . 

Maybe Vulpes knew what he was doing, complimenting her in such an offhand way that almost seemed thoughtless, because with pink tinged cheeks, she mustered out: “ Fine, I’ll do it.” 

And when he smiled like the cat that got the cream, she knew she had, in fact, been bested. 

Chapter Text

VIII.

Only a few days after Vulpes had confronted her, Ena stood a few feet behind him, trying not to wring her hands together or shift her weight between her feet too much. Any show of nerves would certainly be noticed and pounced upon as weakness by the soldiers watching her. The other men in the tent stared at her curiously, as if wanting to know how this scrap of a recruit had  caught Vulpes’s eye in the first place. She kept her gaze forward and firmly fixed on a fold in the canvas wall of Caesar’s tent, listening intently as Vulpes talked. From what she understood, it was only because he wanted to take her along on this assignment that he had to gain Caesar’s approval. 

Vulpes had just proposed his plan to Caesar and they now waited for his judgement. Of course, the version of the plan that Caesar had been told varied greatly from what Vulpes actually had planned. To Caesar, Vulpes had proposed using Ena to lull their target into a false sense of security by playing a lost teenager. While she knew she didn’t look that young, Vulpes seemed to think that it was enough to convince Caesar that there were no other components to their plan that he wasn’t being informed of. And certainly not that Ena would be playing the role of a seductress instead of a teenage boy.

“Why a recruit who has barely proved himself?” Caesar asked, his chin resting on his hand as he reclined in his fur covered throne. She wondered what he had done to earn such an extravagant seat and the respect of the men guarding his sides- certainly he hadn’t seen the heat of battle. And if he had, it must have been decades ago. All of the respect garnered for him rested on the shoulders of the men inside the tent and out training in the Fort. Amazing what one could accomplish if you had others to do it for you. 

“I’ve seen what Daniel is capable of when he is allowed to think strategically. His frame, though certainly not that of a more accomplished or experienced legionnaire, could prove beneficial in reconnaissance efforts. I believe that, with the proper training, he could prove to be an asset to the Legion as a spy instead of a warrior,” Vulpes spoke carefully, each and every word chosen days before. 

Caesar, who had been listening to everything Vulpes said with mild interest, hummed. He was visibly weighing his options, nodding his head to the side. She didn’t know what the cons of sending her out with the leader of his spies would be. There certainly were no pros to her staying at the Fort, especially since Ena had barely done anything to distinguish herself from her peers. 

“What say you?”

It took Ena a moment to realize that Caesar was speaking to her. She looked at him, blinking a single time before cautiously answering, her voice stilted as she tried to remember what Vulpes had told her to say if she was asked for her opinion. He had only approached her that morning to inform her that they would be given an audience with the warlord that afternoon, taking the opportunity to tell her everything she’d need to say to convince him of her worthiness. 

“I th- It would be an honor to serve the Legion in the frumentarii.” She paused, the silence hanging in the tent heavy. Vulpes didn’t look back at her but she could practically hear him telling her to elaborate more. She scrambled to think of something else to say to plead her case. And though she desperately wanted to look away, she forced herself to maintain eye contact with the older man through everything she said. Averting her eyes now would be a sign of nervousness. “And I think my talents would be best suited there. I’m eager to prove myself worthy of this position.”

She knew she was just echoing what Vulpes had already said and the unimpressed look on Caesar’s face only confirmed this. For a moment, she was convinced she had messed it all up. If this didn’t work out, what would Vulpes do? He certainly wouldn’t keep her secret if it didn’t benefit him in some way. And though he couldn’t exactly expose her without exposing that he had known her secret and had planned on benefiting from it, she was certain he would figure out a way to expose her without it implicating him. She couldn’t see herself lasting much longer in the Legion if Caesar disapproved of their plan. 

After all, without the knowledge of Ena’s true identity, the plan didn’t seem quite as ingenious. What aid could a new recruit provide that any of the other frumentarii couldn’t? Could none of the other frumentarii convincingly pull off the look of a teenage boy? She doubted that. 

Then Caesar’s gaze shifted back to Vulpes and Ena once again became a background character to the conversation. She watched and waited with baited breath as he continued to weigh his options before he sighed. 

“You will leave for New Vegas tomorrow morning.” Caesar waved them off lazily, like thinking about this problem was too much work for him. He pinched the bridge of his nose between two fingers, rubbing the skin. Without even looking up at them, he continued. “You haven’t disappointed me yet, Vulpes. Don’t start now.”

Ena barely had time to breathe a sigh of relief before Vulpes turned around, knowing when he was dismissed. His eyes briefly slid to hers, and the ghost of a self-satisfied smirk crossed his face before it fell and he began to leave the tent. As soon as he passed her, she moved to follow him, trying not to show how eager she was to finally leave the tent. The hot sunshine had never felt so refreshing on her face as it did when she was finally out of Caesar’s gaze.

One hurdle down. Only about a million to go .

New Vegas was a two day walk from Cottonwood Cove, an almost straight shot up the desert. They could even follow the road for a large majority of the journey, which lessened the likelihood that they would come across hostile creatures on the way. Compared to the distances she’d walked before, it didn’t seem all that bad. But the prospect of embarking on the journey with her only company being Vulpes was nerve-wracking, to put it lightly. She had spent the entire night before they left staring at the canvas roof of her tent and listening to the other men’s snores, trying to ignore the knots in her stomach as she thought over the next few days. She hadn’t even bothered trying to execute her usual morning routine, instead waiting until they were awoken to rise and ready herself to meet Vulpes at the gate.

She moved quickly, not wanting to keep him waiting too long. He hadn’t told her to bring anything with her, which was good because she didn’t have anything to bring. Any healing powder she had been given was used, as well as any water or other provisions. She didn’t worry about the bandages around her chest, knowing that she’d hopefully be able to relieve herself of them once they hit the road. So, with one final glance at her bedroll, she began her trek to the front gate.

Vulpes was already waiting for her, his face unreadable as he watched her approach. He was wearing his Vexillarius helmet, something he rarely did when moving about the camp. Even though they were just going to change into civilian clothes at Cottonwood Cove, he was still going through the effort of indicating his rank to everyone around them. 

As if they didn’t already know who he was.

When she looked at him, standing there in that helmet and stony-faced as he watched her, all she could think about was the first night she had met him. About how terrified she had been of him, and how she now knew that he had known she was lying about her identity the entire time. 

Why he hadn’t said anything was still a mystery, and not one she expected to ever find out the solution to. 

By his feet was a canvas bag, though he had seemingly packed light. She almost asked him if she needed to go back and pack something when he picked up his bag and gestured for her to follow. They walked past the gate and started down to the river, where the raft and Cursor Lucullus waited for them.

As they walked down, she looked out past the Fort to where New Vegas was clearly visible on the horizon. It didn’t seem all that far. All they’d have to do is cross the river to the opposite bank and it might only be a half-day’s walk. And yet they were still journeying back down river to the camp at Cottonwood Cove, which resulted in a two-day journey both ways. 

“Why do we have to go all the way back to Cottonwood Cove- can’t we just cross here?” She gestured to the other side of the river. Vulpes only looked at her with a raised eyebrow.

“That’s NCR territory. And there’s lakelurks. They’ve pretty much infested the area.”

“The NCR or the lakelurks?”

He paused, looking back at her briefly with a glint of humor in his eyes. “Both. Either way, going over there is a death wish. It’s a lot easier to journey through the desert from the south.”  

“And you’ve done this many times?”

“Yes.” 

They are quiet for the rest of the ride down the river. They can’t exactly talk about their plans with Lucullus within earshot and Vulpes wasn’t one for small talk. 

When they arrived at Cottonwood Cove a few hours later, the camp looking exactly the same as it had the last time she was here, they immediately headed to the supply shed from the docks. Vulpes didn’t stop to talk to anyone, even though a few lower-ranking Legionnaires stopped to watch as he passed. She couldn’t tell if they respected him or hated him based on their expressions. They didn’t even look at her. 

Everywhere they went, she trailed a few steps behind him and watched his mannerisms, waiting until he did something first before she did it herself. If he wasn’t going to speak to anyone, neither was she. Once they were inside the supply shed, he told her to wait outside while he gathered the supplies they would need. She didn’t respond, only leaning against the shed wall and listening to the sounds of movement inside.  

After a few moments, he returned and handed her a bag which was filled with food rations and a change of clothes. She stared at the denim jeans and t-shirt, the first real clothing she had seen in months.  

“Go.” He said, gesturing to the nearby cement bathroom. She blinked once before catching what he meant. Clutching the bag close to her chest, she tried to keep her pace steady as she walked into the thankfully empty bathroom and into one of the stalls. But once she was in, she exhaled loudly. 

She only had to get through the next hour while in Legion territory before she could drop her mask for a few days. Maybe, once they were on the road, she could even convince herself that the Legion had been nothing but a bad dream. She could try to pretend that Vulpes was just a companion she found herself traveling with and that they were going to New Vegas to try and win it big. This urge only worsened once she changed into the clothes Vulpes had provided her. With the jeans and t-shirt, she could almost pretend like she was back to normal. Like she was about to go off on her own in the Wastes, sleeping under the stars and shooting geckos for fun. Like she could leave the whole of Caesar’s Legion behind her and forget this entire chapter of her life. 

But then she exited the stall and spared a glance at herself in the mirror. Instead of seeing her long hair and wiry frame she was met with a buzzcut that was slowly growing out and muscles where she hadn’t had them before, the sight like a cold bucket of water over her head. Sighing at her reflection and how unfamiliar it was to her, she turned and left the bathroom. It was no use to try and pretend that her reality wasn’t her reality. Better to face it and learn to live with it than to ignore it and be surprised when it snuck up on her.

Vulpes was waiting for her outside the cement building, having already changed into his choice of outfit: a simple suit and a hat that he held under his arm. He cut a striking figure amidst the red and gray of the other Legion men and if it weren’t for that sharp look of cunning in his eye, she’d think he was the average Wastelander. 

Ena tried not to look too hard at him and, at the same time, tried not to notice how he appraised her as she walked closer. It wasn’t in a manner that made her feel like she was being lusted over- if anything, his gaze reminded her of the way one might look at a particularly nice weapon. Either way, she was content to ignore it. 

As soon as she came to a stop in front of him, he nodded once in approval at her outfit. As if he wasn’t the one who had picked it out in the first place. Then he picked up his bag, placed his hat on his head, and started walking in the direction of the Mojave without another word.

IX.

Ena quickly discovered that traveling alone with Vulpes was incredibly boring. She had seen what he was like when he was leading a group of men when she’d first been taken by the Legion, but now it was just her and him. Alone. Walking for hours without speaking a word to one another. 

If she wasn’t afraid it would bother him, she’d go insane. 

Considering what their conversations had been like before they’d started this journey, she hadn’t exactly expected him to want to chat but after the third hour of walking without any conversation, she needed something else to do. Anything besides staring forward and feeling how her too-large boots shifted uncomfortably against her feet. 

But as she couldn’t figure out a way to organically break the silence, she continued walking alongside him without saying a word. The sun beat down on them, with her faring worse since Vulpes had a hat to protect the top of his head and face from the rays. She reached up, running a hand through her sweat soaked hair. In the month and half she had been with the Legion, she hadn’t been told to trim it again. While it hadn’t grown significantly in that time, it was certainly long enough for her to feel locks again. The beginnings of growth. She wondered when they’d tell her to cut it again, knowing that the Legion required hair to be a certain length for everyone in their camps. 

But, in addition to her musings on the length of her hair, the feeling of her short hair through her fingers had left her with a new concern. And, for one of the first times in her life, she felt that her decision to travel alone and rarely interact with others had finally come to bite her in the ass. 

She had no idea what she was going to do when she got to Vegas. 

“Vulpes?” 

He looked over at her, as if surprised that she had actually broken the silence between them. But her sudden nerves about their plan were far greater than her nerves about disturbing the silence. She cleared her throat, trying to figure out how to word her concerns. 

“What exactly is the plan when we get to New Vegas? I don’t look particularly feminine. Certainly not enough to seduce a man.”

He huffed a laugh, like her concerns were childish. And maybe they were to someone as experienced as he was.  

“You will find that the degenerates of Vegas are easily distracted by a bit of skin. Your hair won’t be a problem. A lot of women keep their hair short, anyway.” He paused before adding on in clarification: “It helps with the lice.” 

“Right.” She nodded once, though his words hadn’t alleviated any of her anxiety. She didn’t add that she didn’t even have anything to wear- certainly the t-shirt and jeans she was currently wearing weren’t going to cut it. “But, what is the plan?”

She knew the broad strokes of it but she wasn’t sure about the specifics, and Vulpes seemed to only want her to know as much as she needed to survive at any given moment. 

“We’ll stop in Freeside to rest tomorrow night, as well as pick up some clothes to better blend in at the Ultra-Luxe— that’s where our target has been staying and where we’ll find him in two days. You know the rest.”

She did- she was going to disguise herself as a wealthy gambler and sidle up to their target, convincing him to take her back to his hotel room before revealing her hand and threatening him if he chose to run from the Legion. She didn’t doubt her ability to intimidate the man-- it was in her ability to actually seduce him that she worried about her capabilities. And Vulpes, it seemed, wasn’t picking up on that anxiety. 

But how on earth was she supposed to tell him that she didn’t know if she could play the seductress role convincingly? She had never had to seduce anyone before- her experiences were a lot more cut and dry than that. Most people in the Wasteland didn’t waste time playing cat-and-mouse games with the people they wanted to fuck. When you didn’t know if you were going to die in the next twenty-four hours, seduction took a back seat to baser human urges. 

So she dropped the issue for now.

When they were sufficiently away from Legion territory, she finally did what she had been aching to do for weeks. 

Ena reached under her shirt, gripping the end of the gauze that had been tucked under and slowly pulling it away. 

Once the bandages were gone, she breathed deep and tried not to cough as her lungs fought to fill themselves completely again. She was certain that, if she were to look, her skin would be bruised and swollen from where the bandages had dug into and compressed her skin. Looking down at them, she cringed at the sight of their sweat stains and dirt, coloring the entire length of the bandage different shades of brown. She shoved the bandages into her bag and made a mental note to pick up more in Vegas.

“Does it hurt?” 

She started, not expecting to look over to see that Vulpes had been watching her.

“No.” She paused, taking a moment to actually allow herself to take in the sensations of her body. “A little. It’s more sore than anything.” 

He didn’t respond. She partly expected him to tell her it was her own fault. Which, while partially true, wasn’t a fair assessment of her situation. But he didn’t, instead staying silent as they continued walking. 

At least she could breathe.

They had been walking for almost nine hours when the inevitable happened. While traveling along the roads kept you safe from the mutated creatures that lingered in the wide stretches of desert, it did not keep you safe from other people. 

One second, they had been silently walking along, Ena still trying to figure out how to approach the subject of her anxiety with Vulpes. The next second, just as they passed one of the many low billboards lining the side of the road… chaos interrupted.

At least seven people descended upon them, jeering and shouting at them. And even though she had been training for months, her lack of time actually in the Wasteland had left some of her skills rusty. She was out of practice, having become used to sparring with men who stopped when she fell to the ground. 

She had no weapons, an oversight on Vulpes part that might get her killed. Had he expected them to not find themselves in any trouble at all? 

One glance over at the other man showed that he had already drawn a weapon and had easily dispatched the first raider to reach them, already moving on to the others. Vulpes, having abandoned his usual Ripper for a knife, dealt with the raiders easily. Even though some of them had ranged weapons, he was able to dodge their attacks and kill them before they had the chance to shoot again. Ena watched as he roughly dragged the blade of his knife across a man’s throat, blood sputtering out before he fell. 

She had never seen him in a fight before. Somehow, even though he wasn’t as physically imposing as other Legion men, he was holding his own and holding it well. She found herself staring at him, watching him move instead of watching her surroundings. It was only when he looked harshly at her and hissed at her to move that she snapped out of it. 

She stared at one of the corpses before she spotted the weapon holstered to it, leaning down to pluck the gun off of the body before aiming it at a rapidly approaching man, shooting him between the eyebrows. He fell easily, but she had little time to preen over her success before her attention was caught once again by another raider. 

The man dodged her shots and the ones that did manage to hit were deflected by his armor. He must have scavenged it from one of the nearby military bases. His hand was wrapped around a jagged machete, his eyes entirely focused on her. Ena aimed the gun, trying to hit him in the head when Vulpes cursed.

She looked over at her traveling partner, only to see that the raider he was dealing with had nicked his cheek with her blade, a line of blood welling on his pale skin. 

Taking advantage of her distraction, the raider man grabbed her around the middle and lifted. She yelped as her feet left the ground, only giving her a moment to breathe before the man threw her on the ground. The air was knocked from her lungs, leaving her gaping on the cracked road as she attempted to breathe in. The raider man dropped over top of her. 

She wheezed, still trying to breathe as she waved her newly acquired gun in his direction, trying to hit him over the head. He dodged her easily, grabbing her wrist with his one hand and crushing it in his fist. She cried out in pain but kept her hand from dropping the gun. The raider’s other hand raised up, holding his machete at an angle that would surely meet its mark. She struggled underneath him, but his weight on her legs kept her from going too far. 

She was going to die. She had survived this long just to be killed by a random raider in the Wasteland.

Then the raider looked at her, wide eyed before he coughed, blood splattering on her face. The grip on her wrist loosened and he dropped to his knees, falling to the ground by her side. 

Vulpes was standing behind him, wiping off his knife with a handkerchief she hadn’t seen before. He tossed it carelessly aside, tucking his knife back in his jacket. He wasn’t looking at her, instead surveying the corpses surrounding them. 

“Thanks.” She said, propping herself up on her elbows and coughing. Vulpes made no move to help her up, leaving her to raise herself once she felt like her legs could actually support the action. 

Vulpes didn’t answer her, instead squatting beside the body and rifling through the pants pockets. He pulled out the casing for a few bullets and a single cap before sighing, tossing the cap aside. Ena stared at it as it rolled away on its side, wishing she could take it for herself without seeming suspicious. But as the Legion had no use for caps, neither did she.  

“Nothing much on any of them.” Vulpes stood, wiping his hands together. Finally, he looked over at her. But his face betrayed nothing and he didn’t appear bothered by the cut on his face. It had stopped bleeding since he’d received it and was now just a red mark along his cheek. Dried blood dabbled the edges of the gash, and it was a testament to his resolve that it didn’t seem to bother him. “Come, if we move fast enough we can get a few more miles in before sundown.”

Wordlessly, she followed him, unsure of how to feel about what just transpired. On one hand, she was grateful that he had saved her. On the other hand, she knew that if he had just given her a weapon from the beginning that he may not have needed to step in and save her. And, of course, a part of her also knew that it was her own distraction that had let the raider gain the upper hand over her. If she hadn’t been so concerned with watching Vulpes, the raider wouldn’t have had the chance to get so close to her.

So while she could place some of the blame on him, a part of it also belonged with her. 

They walked in silence again, but this time the silence was tense. She could feel him wanting to talk to her, annoyance rolling off of him in waves. But she ignored it- if he had something to say, he would have to tell her himself. She wouldn’t torture herself trying to figure it out. 

As soon as the sun started to set, they began looking for a spot to stop for the night. 

An old fire pit with some trash that couldn’t be burned served as their camp. They had no tent and had only brought a single bedroll, knowing that one of them would have to take watch while the other slept. It was wasteful to bring two and Vulpes had implied a few times that it was considered an extravagance that they were even allowed the one. 

Without talking to him, Ena built a crude fire in the pit, using bits and pieces she was able to find in addition to some sticks. It didn’t have to be perfect- just enough to boil water and warm them when the night fell. 

Once it was built, she spread her legs in front of her, warming her toes by the fire. The heat helped soothe the ache from walking all day even through the soles of her boots. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Vulpes watching her.

“I shouldn’t have had to save you earlier.” He said, though his voice was curiously devoid of any blame. 

“Won’t happen again.” She said, “I should’ve just shot him when I had the chance.” 

Vulpes hummed, moving closer and sitting on his haunches beside her. She could feel him looking at her. She wondered if he knew the reason for her distraction earlier. He had cleaned the cut while they had walked, using the friction of his fingers to peel the dried blood from his skin.

“I’ve seen you spar.” 

“Oh.” She says, unsure of how to respond and refusing to look away from the fire. Of course he’d seen her, he’d been watching her almost constantly for the past few weeks. But due to her very few successes, she was not known for being good at hand-to-hand combat and the fact that he was bringing it up right now didn’t exactly make her feel like she was about to be praised. 

Especially considering he had to save her only a few hours before. 

“You should focus more on your strengths than trying to mimic others.”

“We were taught a specific way-”

“I know exactly what you were taught. But if you were to get into a fight right now, no gun, you’d be dead despite that knowledge.” 

“Thanks.” 

“The Legion likes things to be uniform. But if that uniformity gets you killed, I’d rather see you break the mold and use your strengths to your advantage.”

She thinks back to the one time she had actually won a sparring match, when she had used her shoulder to slam into her opponent’s lower stomach. It wasn’t anything they had been taught. 

“I’ve done that once. And I don’t even know how I did it.”

“We have time.”

She nodded absently before stopping and looking over at him sharply. He was gazing down at her, his blue eyes unreadable. “Wait- what?” 

“We’re just sitting here. Might as well use the time wisely.”

She didn’t move, wiggling her toes in her shoes. They had been walking all day and she wanted to take advantage of her looser schedule to actually relax while she could. Sparring wasn’t exactly part of that plan. 

“I held my own for years in the Mojave. You saw me during that attack, I was fine.” She was lying. She hadn’t been fine, and he knew it.

“Once you picked up a gun you were fine. And even then I had to save you when you became cocky because of it.” So he didn’t know that the actual reason she had been put in that situation was because she was distracted by him. And she wasn’t about to tell him that, instead allowing him to continue talking and thinking that she was just overconfident in her skills with guns. “But melee? Unarmed combat? What will you do if there is no gun to save you?” 

Ena had no response, simply staring up at him. He stood up straight, gesturing upwards with his chin.

“Get up.” 

After a moment of debating if she should fight him on this, she obeyed. Even if she didn’t really want to spar with him, she was sure he wasn’t giving her a real choice. (Besides, he was right. If she was ever attacked while unarmed, she’d certainly die or, at the very least, she would obtain a serious injury.) 

They moved a few feet away from their fire and bedrolls, close enough to keep an eye on their belongings but far enough away that they could move without worrying about knocking into something. 

As she stood across from him, she felt much like she had just been asked to suddenly slow dance. And even then, she’d probably feel more comfortable doing that than holding her fists up and preparing to block his blows. 

When she took her stance, he looked over her form before moving closer. 

“Lower.” He instructed, nodding at her arms. “Block but don’t get caught up in playing defensively. That only buys you time.” 

While she fixed her stance, Vulpes shrugged his jacket off, leaving him in just the button-up dress shirt. Slowly, he unbuttoned the wrists before rolling the sleeves up to his elbows, exposing his forearms to the night air. Even though she had seen them before- the Legion’s uniforms weren’t exactly modest in that regard- seeing his skin in this context felt like too much. 

Without warning, he struck, using her sudden distraction against her. She yelped, jumping backwards and barely dodging his blow. 

“Hey! You could have given me a warning!”

“Do you think that attackers will wait for you to be ready?” He asked. “Life so rarely is like training.”

She took her stance again, watching him carefully. When he struck again, she was ready. But still, she only just barely dodged his blow.

As they continued sparring, he instructed her on how to adjust her stance and block his blows. It was different than how she’d been told back at the Fort, his advice tailored for her frame and whatever he had deemed as her strengths.

“You will do better biding your time than trying to take the offense.”

“You just told me not to play defensively-” She dodged another blow.

“I still am. But you don’t have the strength to beat someone down from the get go. Wait for them to tire themselves out first.” She bristled slightly at the hidden insult in his comment. Did he really think that she didn’t have the ability to strike someone down early in physical combat? They had been sparring for almost fifteen minutes and Vulpes showed no signs of stopping.

“Will you ever tire out, then?” She asked as she tried to land a hit to his chest only for it to be promptly blocked by him. He grabbed her arm, pulling her closer and leaning in, his gaze roaming over her face. She tried to pull her limbs back but he held them fast, letting the moment hang between them before he answered.

“Not likely.” 

Her foot stuttered, her eyes wide at his sudden proximity to her, allowing him to roughly thrust his body against hers, the force pushing her down onto the dirt. She sat still for a moment, her brain rushing to catch up with everything that just happened. She watched, silent, as his feet entered her vision before she finally looked up at him. 

“I think it’s time to sleep.” He finally said, which she takes as an indication that he’s done torturing her for the time being. For the second time in five hours, she picked herself off the ground. Without looking at him, she walked back to their makeshift camp, his light footsteps following her. 

The fire had died while they were sparring and neither of them moved to relight it. It would only invite danger, anyway. 

“I’ll take the first watch.” He said after a moment and she felt no desire to fight him on it. With one last glance at him, she moved to where the bedroll was laying a few feet away. Without undressing or even taking her shoes off, she settled in for the night, curling up on the bedroll and making sure that she faced away from him. 

After almost two months in the Legion camp, the Mojave seemed both too quiet and deafening at the same time. Gone was the near-constant soundtrack of snoring and men shuffling around, replaced almost entirely by the wind and buzz of far away insects. This used to be how she fell asleep every night. Now it was maddening.

If she wasn’t so afraid of his retribution, she’d just use this as an opportunity to escape and flee the Legion. But she knew that if she left now, Vulpes would easily track her down across the desert. She doubted she’d even make it that far. And then she’d be at his mercy for betraying his trust and at Caesar’s mercy for attempting to desert his army. 

So instead she stared forward, listening to the night sounds of the desert and willing herself to fall asleep. And when Vulpes woke her up a few hours later by nudging his toe in her back, she felt as if she had zero hours of sleep. 

They wordlessly switched places and for hours she sat by the cold fire pit, her newly acquired gun in her hand, trying not to look back at the sleeping man behind her. 

X.

The next morning they headed out as soon as the sun crested over the distant mountains, wanting to get as far as they could before the heat began to beat down on them. Ena was reminded of when they’d first journeyed to Cottonwood Cove, that long arduous walk which had felt like a march to their deaths. 

This was more manageable, mostly because she didn’t have a pack full of cans and boxes of food on her back. But she knew a part of it was also the Legion’s training, though she was loath to admit that it had improved her life in any way. 

They didn’t discuss last night’s sparring session.

They were about two hours into their journey when the issue she had tried to discuss with him yesterday reared its ugly head in her mind again. The uncertainty that she would be able to fill the role he needed her to. If she failed what would he do? If she managed to show her hand to the target too early and he fled, what would happen to them? More so, what would happen to her? 

Caesar’s warning replayed in her mind. You haven’t disappointed me yet, Vulpes. Don’t start now. But what if she was the one who fucked up? Would he still take the blame for it? 

(And why did that notion unsettle her as much as it did?) 

Almost as if he could sense her disquiet, Vulpes spoke up. He always seemed able to tell if the silences she often fell into were comfortable or anxious, a level of familiarity she wasn’t sure how he achieved. Maybe he was just that talented at reading people, a skill she knew he had to excel at in order to achieve the rank he had. 

“You’re awfully quiet.” He says, looking over at her, like they hadn’t been traveling mostly in silence for the past day. But she answered him anyway.

“I’m thinking.”

“You do that often.” He says, not in a particularly judgmental way, before continuing. “About what?” 

“Yesterday you said that men are easily distracted by a show of skin. But I’ll have to talk with this man.” She says, choosing her words as carefully as he had when he stood before Caesar. 

“Yes, that’s what normally precedes being invited back to a hotel room.” 

“I-” She paused, unsure if she should continue. But he wasn’t letting her off the hook, instead stopping and staring at her. Giving her all of his attention. “I don’t have any experience talking to men like… that.” 

He only blinked once at her and for a moment seemed surprised before his usual blank expression took over. 

“You’re a virgin?” He said it so bluntly that she didn’t have time to blush or sputter, immediately responding to correct his misunderstanding. 

“No.” She said, looking at anything but him. She knew it was nothing to be ashamed about but something about the weight of his stare on her has her squirming. “But those encounters weren’t exactly built on coy words or my fluttering eyelashes. It was… a lot more vulgar and… need-based than that. Mutual stress relief. So I don’t really have experience seducing men. What if I get into that casino and I don’t know what to do? I can’t just say ‘let’s go fuck’, he’d never fall for that if he’s as careful as you say.” 

“Does that vulgarity even work on profligates?” 

“You say that like it wouldn’t work on Legion men. Do they not fuck?” She knew they did. She’d had to listen to enough exaggerated stories of conquests during meal times to know that at least some of the men regularly abused the slaves or took their pleasures from one another. Occasionally, one of the men would boast about a woman they had met while out in the desert but she believed those stories less.

“Of course we do.” 

We. She ignored the way her stomach twisted at the simple word, at how casually he aligned himself with her statement about Legion men fucking.

“Well, either way, I don’t know what I’m doing.” She brought the attention back to what she had initially been so nervous about: her cluelessness when it came to actually being charismatic. Even when she had been a child, she hadn’t been known for being particularly charming.

“It’s like sparring.” Vulpes spoke carefully. “And much like sparring, it becomes easier with time and practice. You have to adjust your strategy based on your opponent or you leave yourself open to vulnerability.”

“Have you had to seduce many women?” She asks before wishing she hadn’t. She wasn’t sure she wanted to know the answer. She certainly didn’t want to know if it ever went further than flirting, if he ever took his targets to their beds. 

“A handful.” He doesn’t elaborate before continuing as if she hadn’t spoken, turning to face her.  “All it takes is a low voice, a small smile, a few touches to the arm here or there…” 

As he talked, he slowly morphed into the suave person he was describing, the change subtle enough that it wasn’t obviously a mask but she could see the moment he became someone else. No longer was he the stony-faced soldier she recognized. Now he seemed personable, like the type of person someone could easily approach and spill their secrets to. And that wasn’t that the point--to lull people into a false sense of security so they wouldn’t realize they were talking to a wolf?

His eyes were half-lidded and he’s suddenly too close to her, or she’s just now become hyper aware of his close proximity, having not realized that he had slowly moved towards her. She startled backwards like she’d been shocked, her heart racing. “That’s enough, thank you.” 

He didn’t protest, only slipping away as quickly as he’d come close. 

“You will also find that men are a lot more willing to fall for a well placed hand or a fluttering eyelash. You will be fine.” 

“And if I’m not?”

“That’s not an option.” He started walking again, leaving her standing in the middle of the road like she’d been stuck there. “Come, Vegas is close.”

In her travels, Ena typically avoided the whole area of New Vegas. The bright lights of the city attracted desperate people, which was exactly the type of crowd she didn’t want to deal with. Desperate people were a lot more likely to give her problems. There was also the issue of the many dangers that lie just outside New Vegas- gangs of raiders, deathclaw nests, cazadores. It was better to just avoid the whole mess than try to find a way around it all. 

Besides, she’d never had enough money to even get into Vegas in the first place. 

But she and Vulpes arrived to the outskirts of the city towards the evening, climbing around the rubble and dilapidated buildings. She tried not to jump at every shadow, afraid it was another band of raiders waiting to jump them. But there were so many more places for people to hide in the outskirts of Vegas, especially when compared to the wide expanse of the desert.

“This is Freeside?” She asked, looking around. Most of the buildings seemed to be empty shells, relics from hundreds of years ago.

“No. It’s through those gates-” He points at the large chain link gates down the street. “You don’t have to pay to get in. We’ll stay there for the night before crossing into the Strip tomorrow.”

Vulpes lead the way, easily crossing through the first gate. Directly down the road from them was the North Gate into the Strip but instead of walking towards it, Vulpes turned down one of the side streets. 

A scantily dressed woman called out to them, though Vulpes didn’t even give her a passing glance. This didn’t seem to deter her as she continued to yell advertisements for the casino she worked for. 

“Hungry? Thirsty? Horny? Come on down…”  

When they walked into the casino and approached the counter, the man working brightened at Vulpes’s approach. Ena tried not to look like her head was on a swivel as she resisted the urge to stare at everything in the building. It was so unlike anything she had been in before, her determination to stay clear of New Vegas keeping her from experiencing this new environment.

“Ah! Mr. Fox. I assume you want your usual room…” the man trailed off when he caught sight of Ena. His eyebrow quirked upwards with a silent question. 

“That would be great, thank you.” Vulpes pitched his voice lower, adding a slight twang to his voice. Nothing too obnoxious or even obvious if you didn’t know what he usually sounded like. But Ena noticed. 

As they walked up the stairs, she leaned towards Vulpes. 

“You come here often.” She said, keeping her voice free of any accusation. 

“They don’t ask many questions. Most casinos don’t, so long that you don’t cause them trouble. None of them want to drive away any potential clients, no matter how debased they may be.”

The room that he apparently stayed at often was just past the flight of stairs, nestled along the walkway overlooking the front room of the casino. Vulpes pushed open the door to reveal a small space with a single double bed in the center of the room. Ena stared at it for a moment, two thoughts rising to the forefront of her mind. 

The first being that the bed looked more comfortable than anything she had the luxury of sleeping on before. Her life had been largely confined to hard surfaces or old spring mattresses with questionable stains. The second thought being the fact that there was only one in the room and she didn’t exactly want to sleep next to Vulpes. 

Luckily for her, there was a very easy solution to her problem on the opposite wall. 

“I’ll sleep on the couch.” She stated, not even bothering to fight with Vulpes on it. He didn’t argue with her decision. 

(Later, when she stared up at the ceiling and tried to go to sleep, she wondered if he would’ve minded sharing before immediately dashing that thought from her mind. She’d made her decision and sleeping alone was better than the awkwardness that would come from trying to share the bed with him.)  

She watched as he sat on the edge of the bed, carefully untying his shoes and pulling them off before placing them at the foot of the bed. 

Following his lead, she tugged her own off, tossing them aside. 

“It would be nice to have a change of clothes to sleep in.” Most people carried one or two changes of clothes when traveling the wasteland, though changing into pajamas at night wasn’t common and generally seen as frivolous. But she’d been wearing the same t-shirt and pair of jeans for two days-- they were filthy with sweat, dirt, and blood. Even changing into used clothes that just weren’t soaked with bodily fluids would be nice.

“Check the dresser. People sometimes leave things behind.” 

She doubted that there would be a completely new outfit waiting for her in the dresser but she rose to check anyway. Like she expected, when she pulled the drawers open, all she found were a box of Bobby pins and two stray caps. Without even showing the items to Vulpes, she pocketed them. 

“We’ll pick up new clothes tomorrow. And then we’ll get into Vegas.” 

While she wasn’t super familiar with the customs and rules of New Vegas, she did know one thing: you needed money to get in. It was just another deterrent to never visit. 

“How?”

“I have a passport.” He said, cracking one of his eyes open to look at her. 

“And what about me?” 

“You will pass the credit check.” 

“How much is that?” She had no money. 

He huffed, clearly annoyed at her questions. After all, she had been asking him a lot of things over the past two days. 

“Two thousand caps. Lucky for you, that means little in Legion territory.” He pulled out a pouch from his bag. The jingling inside meant only one thing- it was filled with caps. More caps than she had ever seen at once. If she played her cards right she could take it tonight after Vulpes falls asleep and run. Two-thousand would be enough to sustain her for at least a few months if she was smart about it. She had a weapon, however shoddy, and clothes that didn’t betray any affiliation to the Legion. 

But then Vulpes slid the pouch under his pillow with a sly smile, like he knew exactly what she was thinking about doing. 

Thwarted before she even had time to plan, she resisted the urge to pout and instead lay down on the couch, staring up at the ceiling. It had been a risky thought, anyway. No, it would be better to just go along with whatever Vulpes had planned and figure out what to do after they had left Vegas in a few days. 

All she had to do was bide her time and wait for an opportunity, just like he had advised her when they’d been sparring.