Chapter Text
He blinked, trying to clear the ghost from his eyes – but the man remained. It took Arcade by surprise more than the initial sight of him had. By now he was used to sitting in a bar, hoping that the combination of nicotine and alcohol would be enough to numb him for another night, and seeing Vulpes’ ghost smirking at him from across the room. It only ever took one blink for him to be gone again. Sometimes he would stare long and hard at the apparition until his eyes were watering and the rest of the room had faded, until he had to finally blink and send the image away.
But this time, he didn’t go away.
He stayed, staring back, both of them too dumbfounded to move. There was no smirk, no quirked brow. Just the tired remains of a man who had once been a soldier, and now knew no other way to live.
Slowly, still fully expecting the man to vanish from his sight Arcade stood, abandoning his drink at the bar. If it wasn’t really him, Arcade figured he must have had enough for the night anyway, and would retreat to the dingy rented room where his power armor waited patiently for him.
Vulpes jumped just slightly when Arcade reached him, as though he too had assumed the other to be nothing more than the hauntings of an abused mind. If Arcade hadn’t known Vulpes, he might have assumed it to be nothing more than a quick spasm of a tired muscle. But even when in pain, the Vulpes he knew wouldn’t allow himself to just give away an insight like that for free. No, Vulpes was every bit as shocked to see Arcade as Arcade was to see him.
His mouth was dry, his voice so seldom used now that it always sounded strange to his own ears. “So…” he started, voice deep with memory and pain. “You lived.”
Vulpes, still in shock, only nodded.
“What happened?” Arcade pressed, keeping his voice quiet. “I thought all the higher ups had been captured or killed at the Battle for Shady Sands.”
Vulpes finally shook himself clear of his thoughts and glanced around the room. “Not here.” His voice too was hoarse and gravelly, but the sound of it still shot adrenaline coursing through Arcade’s veins. It was him; it was real. Vulpes was alive.
“I have a room,” Arcade said vaguely, glancing toward the stairs in the corner. “We could… I mean. If you want to talk. We should. Talk. I–”
Vulpes held up a hand, nodding. “Yes.”
Arcade scolded himself mentally – what was it about Vulpes that so easily had him stumbling over the simplest of sentences? Even though he’d long since come to terms with his feelings for the man, Vulpes still left him awkward and tongue-tied simply by existing.
Arcade started to turn toward the stairs, then hesitated. To his surprise he saw a sharp look of pain in Vulpes gaze.
“If you would rather not…” Vulpes started, letting his unspoken words hang silently between them.
Arcade grinned. “It’s not that. I’m just afraid that if I turn away, you won’t be real after all. That like Eurydice, you’ll be dragged back to the depths of the underworld if I look back to see you.” He held out a hand to Vulpes, praying he would take it.
His heart fluttered in his chest when Vulpes did.
Wordlessly, Arcade pulled him along to the back of the room, up the stairs, and down the hall to his rented room. And as much as he didn’t want to think about anything to do with the Legion, he still chucked quietly to himself as he silently thanked Hades for allowing them to be together again.
The years had not been kind to Vulpes. He looked like a badly abused skeleton with a damaged skin draped over it. His once-lithe muscled arms had grown softer – likely due to the pistol Arcade saw at his hip, and total lack of a machete. Machetes were pretty taboo after the Legion had been destroyed, so it wasn’t exactly a surprise to see the man without one. His hair was shaggy and unkempt, too long and laying awkwardly in too many directions. The hand he held was missing its last two fingers and part of the palm. Scars ran along his arms in every direction, at least one of them from a bullet wound – the gnarled flesh peeking out from beneath his short sleeve.
The more Arcade looked him over, the more he worried about what might be hiding beneath his clothing.
There were no chairs in the minimalistic room: only a bed, small table, lamp, and trunk. Thankfully there had been room for his armor – Arcade refused now to travel without it. Vulpes gazed at the suit openly, but said nothing.
When Arcade pulled him towards the bed, he felt Vulpes resist just the smallest amount. His heart sank into his stomach. What had happened to the devilish, confident man he remembered?
“Sit with me,” Arcade said quietly. “I won’t ask you to do something you don’t want to. Even if you don’t want to tell me anything that’s happened to you.”
Hesitantly, Vulpes nodded, letting himself be pulled.
Deciding it might be easier if he went first, Arcade sighed as he sat down on the edge of the bed. He kicked off his shoes, refusing to let go of Vulpes’ hand unless the man pulled away himself. One shoe bounced off the side of the nearby trunk with a loud thunk , making Vulpes jump.
Arcade’s jaw clenched. “You’re alright,” he soothed quietly. “You’re safe with me. I promise.” He watched as Vulpes quickly surveyed the room, eyes landing on the power armor, his plasma rifle and defender, the shoes on the floor, the door, gaze lingering on it’s unlatched lock. The signs all pointed to PTSD – which wouldn’t surprise him, even without any new revelations on what happened to and by Vulpes after they parted ways in the Mojave.
“I went back,” Arcade started, sighing and running a hand through his hair. In those months where the Legion had been pushed out of the Mojave. I found the North was damn-near lawless. In the first year I almost died getting shot up by raiders. They left me for dead. Didn’t even bother to take anything, just wanted to shoot something. They hit the artery in my leg. If I hadn’t had a stimpak I would have bled out. I holed up in a cave for a while until I could walk well enough again and headed for the border and waited for news. Went in as soon as I could and got the armor.”
Vulpes frowned, gaze still glued to the door. “That would have made you quite a target…” he mumbled.
Slowly, careful with every movement, Arcade stood and leaned over, locking the door. Vulpes tensed for a split-second, then visibly relaxed – like for a brief moment he’d forgotten who he was with.
“It did,” Arcade agreed, sitting back down. “But one with substantially thicker skin. Anything was better than bleeding out alone in the mountains thinking ‘if only I’d worn my armor.’ So I wore it. The factions aren’t as thick up here as they are in the South. I rarely ran into trouble that based on just looking Enclave.”
He closed his eyes, memories dancing in his mind. “I was just... so tired of running. Of trying to deny any ties to my past, even ones that could help me, just because I was afraid. So I stopped being afraid.”
Silence fell between them. Arcade picked up the packet of cigarettes on the table and carefully pulled one out to clasp it between his lips. He offered to pack to Vulpes, who took one eagerly as well. Arcade lit Vulpes’ first and then his own, making a point to set the lighter down gently instead of tossing it like he usually did.
“You make it sound easy,” Vulpes said, staring at the floor.
“Hm?”
“Not being afraid,” Vulpes said. His voice cracked on the last word. “Like you can just… turn it off. Blow out the candle. Shut off the tap.”
Arcade laughed darkly. “No. No it was anything but easy. Forcing myself to be seen in my father’s armor was one of the hardest things I have ever put myself through.”
“And you… just wandered? Since then?” Vulpes asked, taking a long drag on his cigarette. “Or did you find somewhere to settle for a time?”
Laughing, Arcade shook his head before pulling on his own cigarette. “No settling. Just drifting. I’d like to, but…” he glanced over to the armor. “Well. Let’s just say that’s one part of my fears around that thing I haven’t managed to let go of yet. I don’t stay anywhere long now. In fact, I had planned on leaving first thing tomorrow.”
Vulpes’ feeble, three-fingered grip tightened on Arcade’s hand. “Where will you go?” he asked. All the strength was gone from his voice.
Arcade turned, lifting their hands and wrapping both of his around Vulpes’ damaged one. “Nowhere without you, if you’ll let me.” He pressed a soft kiss to Vulpes’ knuckles, fighting the urge to grab the man and yank him closer. “I want to try and pick up where we left off… if you’re willing.” He reached out and ran his fingers along Vulpes’ stubble-covered stubble-covered cheek and jaw.
For a long, agonizing moment, Arcade was terrified that the man would reject him. His mind reminded him that he shouldn’t allow himself this kind of vulnerability, that there was no place for it in his life anymore. Opening a door like that only opened himself up to the possibility of being hurt, and he never stopped moving now because the less he stayed still the less he could be targeted.
Then Vulpes smiled at him. It was a tiny, weak gesture, but it lifted the weight of the world from Arcade’s shoulders. “I think… I think I would very much like to try. But...”
Arcade held his breath, not ready to let go but knowing he would if Vulpes asked him to. “But..?”
Vulpes shut his eyes tight, lips pressed in a thin line. “But I’m not who I used to be. You may find I am no longer someone you... find interesting... in that manner.”
Sighing in relief, Arcade smiled. “Let me be the judge of that.” Setting his cigarette on the rim of the ashtray, he threaded his fingers through Vulpes’ messy hair, running a hand down his neck and back, then pulled them both to their feet. He settled his hand on the man’s waist, finding that beneath his ill-fitting clothes he was even thinner and bonier than he looked. “I’ve missed you,” he whispered, trying not to melt as Vulpes rested his head against Arcade's chest in response.
“You may still miss me. I don’t think all of me came back from Shady Sands.”
Arcade wanted to tell him that some was better than none at all, but he didn’t want to reinforce the idea that Vulpes was somehow broken. Even if it did seem to be true.
“Do you have somewhere you’re staying tonight?” he asked instead.
Vulpes shook his head silently.
“Then stay here. I’ll even take the floor if you want, just... just don’t go anywhere.” Arcade bit his lip, eyes falling closed as he tucked Vulpes’ head under his chin.
“Don’t sleep on the floor. I can never sleep anymore anyway,” he pulled back and took another long puff from his cigarette. “Not for more than a few minutes at a time.”
“Just... just lay next to me and try then, alright?” Arcade asked, resisting the urge to pull him back.
Vulpes hesitated only briefly before nodding. He sat back down and pulled off his boots, sliding fully clothed to the other side of the bed and laying curled on his side with his back to the wall. In the dim light of the room, he looked like he was trying to blend in with the scenery and hide in plain sight.
Arcade sat down beside him, leaning back against the headboard. “Do you want to talk about any of it?” he asked, knowing he didn’t want to know what had happened but resolving to listen if Vulpes wanted him to.
Vulpes opened his mouth to speak, then shut it again. “Not... not yet. For now, I just want to forget these last few years and remember you.”
Arcade picked up his cigarette again, nodding.
“Your memory kept me alive at times,” Vulpes said quietly, refusing to meet his gaze. “The memory that at least one good man was left in this wasteland who did not wish me ill.”
“I don’t know if I am a good man anymore,” Arcade said honestly. “I’m not the same man I was anymore either.”
“You’re better than them.” Vulpes’ voice was cold and flat. “Though that isn’t saying much in itself.”
“I’ll have to believe you,” Arcade said with a smirk, “because I’m already pretty sure if I saw ‘them’ I’d shoot on sight – which doesn’t give much time to form a significant opinion.”
“And that is already far more kind than they would do for you...”
Arcade’s mind was reeling with questions. What had happened to his hand? Where had the scar on his face come from? Why did every little unexpected noise make him jump? Was that a burn scar peeking out from the top of his shirt? As much as he ached to ask, he yearned to never know. He reached across the table and lifted his plasma defender from where it sat on top of the trunk. “Well. Try to get some sleep, if you can. You’re safe with me. I’ve figured out which way to point this thing finally.”
A hint of that classic smirk crossed Vulpes’ features. “I think I might actually believe you.”