Archive of Our Own

If someone were to ask Arcade how the second battle of Hoover Dam went down, he couldn’t have told them a damn thing about it. He'd been cruising too high on adrenaline, nerves strung out and anxiety shot to hell.

A few months ago, he would have laughed at the idea that something so monumental could pass by so quickly to someone actually involved in it.

On paper, it sounded like one of those things Arcade would have read about in one of his history books, memorizing every detail of it and letting it take up space at the back of his mind for months, and not like something that was over in a flash.

The only thing he really remembered was the waiting.

That was another thing he wouldn't have expected, something he wouldn't have found in his history books. Hooked on adrenaline like he'd been, the waiting around had nearly driven him insane.

Waiting for the battle to start, waiting for other people to arrive, for them to do their parts.

Once it had finally begun, it seemed to be over in the blink of an eye.

In the thick of it, Arcade had been like a machine. Just acting without thinking about anything, his mind wiped mercifully blank for once.

He had been one of the first to arrive at the dam, even before the other Remnants had arrived by vertibird. He’d decided to forgo the ride there and thus to fully admit to being a real part of their group.

The far side of the Colorado lay eerily quiet; only the sound of distant war drums made it over the walls constructed along its banks.

NCR soldiers were positioned along the dam, lying in wait. Snipers adjusted their scopes, pretending to train them all the harder on the Fort while throwing suspicious glances his way, but they were spread too thin to refuse anyone willing to fight on their side.

He walked with heavy steps over the sun-baked concrete. This moment of calm before the storm made him feel like something small caught in a jar. The world took on an orange hue through the visor of his father’s suit of power armor, and it only added to the uneasiness twisting up his guts.

So he waited with them, even as every nerve in his body was screaming at him to go. He checked the charge on his plasma pistol. Checked it again.

He went up to the visitor's center. He had to check in with Colonel Moore. The stillness didn't feel right.

The first thing he saw when he entered the building was a dead man staring up at him with a gaping mouth and unseeing eyes, and he realized they'd already been played for a fool.

Somehow, legionnaires had already breached and struck them in the back while their attention was focused on the Fort.

Everything went to hell around him.

NCR soldiers were fighting them back and trying to barricade the staircase they had come in from.

And the dead man had never even known what hit him.

Arcade’s instinct was to take cover, but he had to force that instinct down, swallow it until it became another thing twisting his guts. He had to use the advantage his power armor gave him.

He charged forward.

He saw a legionnaire over the railing and fired before he could think too hard about it, his plasma pistol leaving reflections of green light in its path and filling the air with static.

The charge hit the legionnaire once square in the chest, then there was nothing left of him. Where he stood was a mass of green sludge as his molecules had torn themselves apart. All he’d ever been had been wiped out with the flash of a barrel.

By the time the other legionnaires had figured out where the shot had come from, he’d already wounded another. Adrenaline and reflexes took over.

A spear was thrown his way and made him stagger but did not so much as scratch his armor.

The wounded legionnaire fell behind, and with his attention off the NCR soldiers and focused on the tall guy in power armor, he noticed too late that one of the soldiers moved from behind their cover.
The soldier shot him in the back.

That left three legionnaires, who were already converging on the spot he’d left behind. Wood splinters and broken glass littered the room as the bullets from both sides tore through it.

Arcade shot and fired, and the shot missed. Before the legionnaire he’d aimed for could react, he caught one of the NCR’s strays and staggered, hand shooting up to his neck. Arcade fired again, and this time the shot hit.

The NCR took down the remaining two legionnaires.

He took in the chaos of the room around him and tried to unclench his jaw. Of course, this whole thing would never have been pretty. He’d expected the firepower and the dead bodies. But it was different when you were actually in it.

With his ears ringing, he turned to leave, and for a moment he looked at the dead man by the door, whose unseeing eyes had missed everything that had happened here in the span of a few minutes.

When he reached to open the door, he realized that he’d never even said a word to those NCR soldiers in there, but then again, it was probably for the better. If not for the Enclave insignia on his armor, then just for the childish reason that he'd always hated how the power armor made his voice bellow. Sealed into the armor, it made him feel like he was far away from everyone else. Untouchable and untouched.

His ears were still ringing when he stepped outside, and for a second it brought back that childish superstition that his mother used to tell him it meant someone was thinking of him.

Outside, the Legion had started their full-on assault while he had been busy.

Maybe it was because the men they’d sent into the visitor’s center had been a distraction, maybe it was because they’d successfully foiled their plan to sneak in through the tunnels. Either way, Arcade couldn't tell and didn't have the time to dwell on it.

He looked up into the sky. He had heard the vertibird approach even before he left the visitor center, that unmistakable sound of its two rotors chipping away as it approached the drop-off point.

Even though it had been years since he’d seen one of them in action, the machinery never failed to impress him like it did when he was a boy.

He’d left the building just in time to see it lower itself over the dam. Seeing the Remnants drop out of the vertibird as Daisy hovered and held the machine in its spot in the air with practiced ease was truly a sight to behold.

Before Arcade had ever had any understanding of what exactly it was his father and the rest of the Enclave were doing, what he had understood was that vertibirds were a truly impressive feat of engineering. Even now he still couldn't shake that distant admiration he held for them.

When Doctor Henry rappelled out of the vertibird, he spotted Arcade in the crowd and immediately signaled for him to follow. Together they dragged a wounded NCR soldier to safety behind a barricade.

The man was bleeding and sweating profusely, his skin looking pallid and sickly. He’d taken a bullet to his thigh and had pulled himself out of the line of sight but was barely conscious. He got blood on the concrete and blood on the barricade behind him as he tried to fight off Arcade and the doctor. Maybe because he didn't realize they were trying to help, maybe because he recognized Enclave armor when he saw it.

The man was too young to have been around for Navarro, let alone Mariposa. Hell, Arcade barely even had any memories of that himself—but it's not like the rumors about those times ever fully faded away. Arcade felt his chest tighten as the beginning stages of real panic started to set in.

“It's gonna be alright, son,” Doctor Henry said while preparing a syringe of Med-X, and Arcade wasn't sure if he was talking to the soldier or him right now—if he could somehow sense how his pulse had sped up.

It seemed so stupid for panic to set in now. Now, after everything that had already happened. Arcade almost wanted to bark out a laugh.

As the doctor stemmed the bleeding, Arcade was alternating between looking over the barricade they were crouched behind and taking in the wounded man before him.

He noticed that the man’s nose had been broken at some point, probably years ago, and it had settled badly crooked. He mentally started going through his old medical textbooks and thinking of all the ways that nose could have been treated better. It was almost funny, the places the mind goes in stressful situations. But he didn't have time to appreciate the humor in it right now.

When he tore his eyes away from the man’s crooked nose to look over the barricade again, he froze. One of the legionnaires had seen their hiding spot and was headed straight for them. He fumbled for the plasma pistol at his side.

Before he could get to it, a shot rang out clear from across the dam somewhere behind him and took the legionnaire down. He turned to see Craig Boone peering over the sights of his rifle at him and raised a hand in thanks.

Boone nodded curtly.

He was about the best shot Arcade had ever met, but even after the time they'd spent planning for this day in the Lucky 38, Arcade never felt like he'd gotten a good read on him. Usually, he didn't mind carrying a conversation by himself, he mostly did enough talking for two people anyway. But with Boone, it was like he never even knew if he was boring him or if Boone just had that thousand-yard stare regardless of who was talking at him.

But if Boone was here now, that probably meant that the man he'd spent the last few weeks thinking about was here, too. The man he'd spent months traveling with prior to that. The Mojave Express courier, Isaac.

Arcade surveyed the frenzied crowd.

There were Johnson and Moreno, decked out in power armor and always ready to one-up each other, led by Judah Kreger.

Over on the westernmost intake tower was Boone picking off legionnaires with his rifle.

Then he saw him. He’d recognize that dark head of hair anywhere.

Isaac moved through the chaos around him with languid movements like the eye of a storm. He had his revolver canted straight ahead of him at his hip, eyes squinting against the sun, and walked through the fray like he was parting a sea of people. He was heading straight for the gates of Fortification Hill.

Isaac was wearing the well-worn metal armor and dusty cowboy hat that Arcade had come to associate with him. He could tell that Isaac’s nerves were strung as tight as his own were right now, his attention sharp and pointed, just like that revolver he was holding steady.

They hadn't seen each other in weeks, but during that time, Isaac had still been on Arcade’s mind almost constantly.

He’d spent the time they’d been apart with the Remnants, and goddamn, if that hadn't been a new kind of awkward all of its own. He’d done his fair share of waiting around and twiddling his thumbs in that bunker with them, too.

It had been strange to see them all together like that again after so long. It was like the worst family reunion he'd ever been to, not that he'd been to many to begin with.

The fact that it had been utterly uncomfortable at times had only added to that feeling.

The old-timers would probably have said they had spent that time talking strategy, but really, they had mostly just been rehashing old arguments.

Arcade had been tired of hearing them argue by the end of the first day he’d spent with them, and it had only gotten worse from there. He still didn't agree with any of their opinions. On most things, really.

Now that he was not a little kid anymore, even if they still treated him like one, he also got involved in those arguments like never before. In hindsight, he had to admit that he had let himself get too heated sometimes.

Caught in the confines of that bunker, he had hovered around like a shadow stuck in his past and had wished more than once to be back in the confines of the Old Mormon Fort instead, even though he’d felt trapped while working for the Followers, too.

He'd grown into too much of a cynic over time not to get overwhelmed by the many failures he encountered in the Followers’ work.

But having been stuck down there with a bunch of old guys obsessed with recapturing the pre-war civilization they hadn't even experienced for themselves? Well, it just goes to show that sometimes you have to leave home to realize where you truly belong.

What he had missed even more than his time spent working for the Followers was his time spent traveling with Isaac.

It had taken him a long time to open up fully to the man, but seeing all the good they had done together made Arcade prouder than his work for the Followers had in a long time.

Isaac was the reason he was here today, too. When Arcade had ultimately decided to open up about his past, one thing he still hadn’t been sure of was where his place in all of this would be.

Sure, he could see himself going back to working for the Followers and pretending like he had no ties to the Enclave, just like he had done for years. But it was Isaac and the good they had done together that ultimately made him decide not to keep the past buried any longer.

That made him see that even a single person could make some real change.

And that there could be good done with the tools that his father had left him, even if the bloodshed they had once caused still clung to them like a dark stain.

While the NCR was busy holding back the Legion, Arcade watched as Isaac pushed his way across the dam.

Moreno and Johnson had rushed in with him, they could never pass up a chance to lay down some heavy firepower. Arcade knew they were the most capable people they had—if they could stop arguing for more than five minutes.

He had to trust that it would be enough.

Arcade’s job had been to clear the way for Isaac to make his way into the Fort and to hold back any legionnaires who might try to come after him. He'd never been good with thinking on his feet, so it was best for him to stay back. To leave the real fight to Isaac.

All the waiting he'd been doing up until this point was nothing compared to the waiting he was doing right now, not with the adrenaline still pumping through his system making him feel more on edge than he'd ever been in his life.

He just had to hope the fight inside the Fort would go according to plan. He’d have to put his faith in other people.

Around him, all these NCR soldiers didn't yet know that this fight they were fighting wouldn't be staking the NCR’s claim on Vegas. That these were the last moments that Hoover Dam was under the control of either them or the Legion.

An independent New Vegas was all Arcade had hoped for for a long time, it seemed like the answer to so many problems that he’d encountered during his work here.

But even though it was tempting, Arcade couldn't allow himself time to think about that right now. If he did, his thoughts would inevitably drift to what was going on behind those walls.

He knew there wasn't anything he could do now. His place was right here. Trying to hold the line while getting eyed suspiciously by the NCR all the while.

That's when he saw smoke starting to rise far behind the Fort’s gates, and he knew that Yes-Man and the army of securitrons had arrived.

The ace they’d kept up their sleeve.

He rose from where he'd still been crouched down with Doctor Henry and surveyed the far end of the dam. He could see the massive plumes of dust getting kicked up by their wheels before anyone even spotted the first robot.

The gates to Fortification Hill opened once again. Everyone was holding their breath, rifles drawn and ready to fire. He heard how some of the soldiers swore under their breaths when the first securitrons rolled into view.

The army of robots rolled past them over the dam like they weren't even there, not caring for the dozens of rifles pointed at them. The first time one of the NCR’s men made the mistake of trying to land a shot on one of them, he was gunned down before his rifle was cold again.

It wasn't a pretty sight. Arcade had seen this enough times when people had tried to get into Vegas, and he didn't think he'd ever get used to it.

It was hard to make sense of who was who in the sudden rush of people after the gates had opened, but Arcade only kept his eyes trained for one person.

When he finally found Isaac’s face in the crowd, Arcade realized just how much he missed him.

Isaac was still at the very end of the dam, but Arcade didn't care; he started running towards him, his footsteps clanking heavily under the boots of his power armor.

He was waving his hands and shouting Isaac’s name, but his voice didn’t seem to carry over the noise surrounding them.

It didn’t matter because Isaac had seen him too and was rushing towards him. When Arcade saw Isaac break into a sprint, he felt like his heart was about to burst with joy.

Nothing mattered but this. The feeling of this moment, that was all he wanted to remember of this day for the rest of his life.

They finally found each other in the middle of the dam, and Arcade was struggling out of his helmet when Isaac embraced him.

“We did it!” Isaac shouted, reaching up and taking Arcade’s face between his hands.

“We really did it!” Isaac was shaking him enthusiastically, and Arcade, not knowing where to put his helmet, just tossed it aside.

He hugged Isaac back and lifted him up, surprising himself with his own strength. When he set him down again, for one moment they were spectacularly, terrifyingly close to one another.

Arcade looked into Isaac’s eyes, and Isaac bit his lip as he let go and gave him a slap on the shoulder, before letting his hand rest on Arcade's bicep. He felt that small touch as if it was magnified a hundred times—as if it melted straight through the steel of his armor.

“I’ve missed you slowing me down.”

All Arcade could do was stare at him, too stunned to say a word. Before he could come back to his senses, Isaac bent down, his shirt riding up his back, and picked up his forgotten helmet. Arcade was trying not to make it too obvious that he was staring.

When Isaac stood up and handed the helmet back to him, their hands brushed, and even through the thick steel gloves, Arcade felt like his entire world was reduced to that one point of contact.

“Don’t lose that. I’ve been told it’s expensive,” Isaac said with a wink before turning towards the securitrons standing by, waiting for him.

Arcade flexed his hand over the helmet, where he still felt Isaac’s touch.

Somehow the track back to Vegas didn’t seem as long as it had on the way there, even though Arcade knew, realistically, that it was still the same track.

He almost felt like he was walking with a spring in his step, like an enormous weight he hadn’t realized he’d been carrying for all that time had been lifted off of him.

He kept shooting glances over to Isaac, who was in hushed conversation with Yes Man, his eyes trained on the road and squinting against the sun on the distant horizon like he was trying to read meaning in the broken asphalt—but his dark eyes would soften whenever he looked over at Arcade.

In those moments, it felt like they were the only people who existed in this world under this lonely sky.

All around them was the connective tissue of roads and landscapes, the vast expanses of nothingness, and the in-between spaces that made up the Mojave.

They walked along cracked roads and train tracks, like the veins of an ancient civilization, that lay silent in the same place where huge metal machines had once blared their way through these same canyons and valleys.

As the sun began to set around them, the glow of Vegas in the distance illuminated their way home.

This shining jewel in the nighttime that still could not seem to let go of the claim to greatness it had staked so many centuries ago.

To the south, further away than the eye could see, there were blood-red clouds looming on the horizon, ever-present. They had started to spread years ago, and in time, they threatened to swallow the entire Mojave whole, blocking out the desert sun once and for all.

Boone had mumbled his goodbyes and slipped away almost unnoticed as soon as the fighting on the dam had ended. He was headed back to Novac already, to spend this evening where everyone had reason to celebrate in the town where he had met his wife.

When he’d get there, he would wordlessly head to his room, sit down on his bed, and take off his beret to just stare at it. A chapter of his life was coming to an end, but he wasn’t ready to let go yet.

He’d go on to work his next security shift without another word, like nothing had happened at all. Manny would finally get him to come for a drink with him—but just the one. Manny, the only one left who knew Boone before. The only one not quite ready to close this chapter yet, either.

And in time, maybe, they’d start warming up to each other again. It wouldn't be forgiveness, but it would be close to something like it.

Soon, the sun would dry the blood stains they had left behind on the dam until nothing but spots of rusty brown dirt remained.

In time, the wind and the radiation would carry even those away, as if none of them had ever been there.

And the place where Edward Sallow had crowned himself king would become just land, and sky, and nothing but desert once again.

For now, the people who had decided to make their home in this hard country had reason to put their troubles aside, even if just for a night.

When they got to Vegas and its gates creaked open before them, they were greeted by cheers and congratulations.

The news of their victory at Hoover Dam and Vegas’ freedom had already reached the city before they did, and people were gathering on the streets, already drunk in broad daylight. The heat of downtown Vegas was radiating off the concrete roads and getting trapped between the buildings, making his shirt stick to his back and his hair to his neck as he made his way through the crowd.

Nothing about this would have been out of the ordinary, given the nature of this city, if it wasn't for the mood people were in today.

There wasn’t any of the expected chaos, the usually hollow and despondent faces in the crowd almost nonexistent. For today, people seemed hellbent on forgetting their troubles.

They met up with the rest of the ragtag group that had become so close to Isaac, and by extension to Arcade, over the last few months.

As if by some unspoken agreement, none of them ended up going to any of the places on the strip to celebrate that it was over.

The Strip was currently overrun with every imaginable person in the state wanting to revel in the victory as if they had been there to fight the battle themselves.

People from all over came to lose their hard-earned caps on the vice and debauchery the strip had to offer, now that losing to the house was no longer a privilege reserved only for the richest people in the Mojave. As a truly independent city, New Vegas was crowded like never before.

There was even talk of the Lucky 38 being open to the public for the first time in two hundred years, and that it was a casino run entirely by robots. Not that they’d know anything about that.

They went to the Atomic Wrangler instead. Him, and Isaac, and Cass, and Veronica.

All of them probably preferred Freeside over the Strip anyway. Especially Cass, who’d never been able to keep her disdain about having to spend any amount of time in the mausoleum that was the Lucky 38 to herself.

Isaac still had a few favors to cash in from the Garrets, so they got free drinks at the Atomic Wrangler. It seemed to Arcade like he had favors to cash in from just about anybody right now.

When they met up in front of the Wrangler, Veronica was wearing a dress. One of those fancy old world things, with a split reaching almost all the way up her thigh. It made her look way too overdressed for this place. She loved it.

Cass let out a whistle when she saw her.

“Wow, look at you!”

Veronica spun around, making her dress spin with her and fall elegantly back into place.

“Quite the change from my usual potato sack, isn’t it?” The grin she was sporting didn't look quite as ladylike as her dress did.

“Although I have to admit, I do miss my hood a little. Do you think there are any dresses with hoods out there? That’d be perfect. Oh well, I guess I’ll have to make do with this old thing for now.”

She turned around with a flourish and mimicked throwing her too short hair over her shoulder as she headed on inside the casino, with the rest of them following suit.

Cass was shaking her head with a fond smile on her face.

There were all sorts of folks in the Wrangler tonight. Caravaneers, wastelanders, even the occasional NCR soldiers were still here, since this wasn’t actually part of Vegas and they didn’t technically have to pull out of town until tomorrow.

All of them were celebrating this victory as if it were their own. NCR dollars and Legion denarii were flowing freely over the bank’s counter tonight, and for once no one questioned where they had come from.

The Garrets even had a band playing on the usually empty stage across from the bar.

Arcade would almost feel proud to see a place in Freeside flourishing like this, if it wasn’t for the drug dealing business they still had going on on the side. They were probably responsible for half the people who came to the Followers every day, so it was really just one endless, self-sustaining circle. The ouroboros eating its own tail.

They headed for the bar straight away, where James Garret told them shots would be coming right up, on the house. After all, they were the ones to thank for how business was booming tonight.

When the shots arrived, they all raised them in a toast. The whiskey burned its way down Arcade’s throat, and he had to fight not to pull a face. This wasn’t the watered-down stuff they were usually serving at the Wrangler.

Cass didn't seem to have that problem. As soon as she downed her shot, she was off to the dealer’s room in the back with a grin. She turned back to them and winked.

“I’ll see you when I’ve earned back what the NCR owes me.

The rest of them sat down at a table closest to the band.

Arcade had barely made himself comfortable when Veronica slid into the chair next to him and started talking to him.

“Dance with me.”

He swallowed a sigh he was about to let out and rubbed his eyes instead. It knocked his glasses askew, and he did sigh, then, “Excuse me?”

“Oh, you heard me. Come on, stop being such a stick-in-the-mud,” she took in Arcade's expression, which must have kind of looked like he bit into a lemon, and whined, “Just one dance, please.”

He fixed his glasses on his nose, “I would, truly, but I’m afraid I have two left feet. It wouldn't be very fun for either of us,” he leaned in conspiratorially, “Trust me, I’ve tried.”

Although he liked Veronica, he wasn’t sure if he could respond with anything but sarcasm right now. He was too goddamn exhausted.

Veronica honest to god pouted at him.

She was quiet for only a moment, spinning her beer bottle back and forth between her hands, her knuckles calloused from her power gloves, before she spoke again.

“Hey Arcade, did I ever tell you that I grew up in a hole in the ground?”

He snorted into his beer.

“You did. In fact, I believe you’ve told me just about every single time we’ve talked so far.”

“So you should know I never got the chance to do anything fancy like ‘dance’ or ‘enjoy myself’!” Veronica made exaggerated air quotes, “Come on, it’ll be fun! You don't even have to know how to dance, I don't either!”

“That's why at least one of us should! Not to sound uncharacteristically cynical, but I don't think having the blind lead the blind works for dancing.”

At least he’d managed to make her laugh with that, even if he could tell this conversation wasn't over.

Isaac had apparently overheard them and appeared from where he’d been talking to the band on stage. As if on cue, they started to play a new song. Something faster and livelier than what they’d been playing before.

Isaac walked right up to Veronica and presented his hand with a slight incline of his head, “May I have this dance?”

Of course, Isaac would do something like this, Arcade thought. He could never let anything be if he saw a way he could make it right.

“Oh my!” Veronica touched her hand to her chest dramatically. Standing up, she took Isaac’s hand before turning back to Arcade.

“See, this is how you treat a lady.”

Arcade shook his head in bemused exasperation and shot a glance at Isaac, who gave him a soft smile before turning to Veronica with a dramatic bow as he led her onto what passed for a dance floor in this place.

Behind them, the band was beginning to really fire up.

As Arcade watched them spin around on the dance floor, he wondered how it could be so easy for Veronica to talk about her past. Their backgrounds were similar, but she never seemed to have any problems talking about the Brotherhood.

He was well aware that getting himself to open up had felt like pulling teeth, because it had especially felt like that to himself. He’d never understood how she could feel proud to have grown up in the Brotherhood despite not agreeing with their ideals.

When he talked about his past, he’d chewed on his words so much that he'd been afraid he’d choke on them at times.

When he had decided to finally bring up the Enclave to Isaac, it had felt like the right place, like the right time. Like something that was necessary to get out in the open between them.

But the truth had still been harder to get out than anything else he'd ever had to say.

His family history always felt like something he’d been cursed with, like a shameful secret to hide, not like a real part of who he was.

Abundans cautela non nocet—abundant caution does no harm. But unfortunately for Arcade, he had also inherited his mother’s tendency to catastrophize, which did tend to harm the way he handled certain situations.

He took a sip of his beer and watched them dance.

Isaac was spinning Veronica around easily, dipping her low and making her giggle. He smiled whenever she looked at him, but he was moving stiffly, performing each move too rigidly. A squint still thrown across his features even now.

Whenever she wasn’t looking at him, he seemed tired. Haunted. Like he was looking over her shoulder and expecting a firing squad to break down the door at any moment.

To say that Arcade understood the feeling would have been an understatement.

Reconciling with his family’s past and deciding that he’d no longer let the technology he’d inherited from his father rot had been one thing. It was another thing entirely to have his longest kept secret out in the open.

Although he’d already done his fair share of worrying when he was waiting around in the old vertibird hangar turned Enclave Remnants hideout, he’d still tried not to think too hard about any further consequences when the time had come to take up the old armor and head for the dam.

That worrying finally came when he’d strolled into Freeside wearing that full set of power armor. Even over the cheers and congratulations, it was hard not to notice the carefully neutral stares and hushed whispers of the people they’d passed by. Even if the NCR had been driven out of Vegas and could not persecute him anymore, he was sure it wouldn’t be long before word began to spread about the easy target he’d surely make.

Arcade took another sip of his beer and leaned back in his chair. It was watery and stale and just what he needed right now.

He’d save himself that worrying for another day. Right now, he just ran his thumb across the rim of his bottle and relished the feeling of his mind starting to swim and his thoughts going lopsided, while he watched Isaac and Veronica whirl over the packed dance floor, people’s smoke making the whole room look hazy and unreal.

Even with the new, livelier song, the music from the band barely managed to make it over the sound of people filling the room. Occasionally a single noise would stand out from the mold, like Cass’ laughter over from the dealer’s room, or pool balls colliding, or the clattering of dishes from the kitchen.

Across the bar was an NCR poster that the Garrets had agreed to put up, reluctantly hidden between the selection of drinks and rooms on offer. A frumentarius was looking right at him from that poster, and if Arcade squinted, he could almost pretend that it looked like Vulpes Inculta. Some irrational part of Arcade wanted to get up and go behind the bar to tear it down. It somehow felt insulting to leave it up, like the dead might care that it was there.

He stayed seated where he was.

When the song ended, Isaac finished his dance with Veronica by giving a slight bow, and she curtsied in return.

She was in a fit of giggles as she went to join Cass’ game in the other room, and Isaac went over to the bar and signaled to James Garret for another drink.

Arcade took a moment to watch Isaac where he was leaning against the bar, with his legs crossed casually and his elbows resting on the counter. Isaac had lost some weight since they’d last seen each other, looking even more taut and wiry than Arcade remembered, but he still moved with the same languid calm.

His hair had gotten longer over his ears and the back of his neck where his cowboy hat was pushing it down. Strands of it kept slipping out of his carefully slicked-back hair.

James Garret brought Isaac the drinks, and Arcade continued to just take him in when he grabbed a handful of chips from the bar to wash them down with a shot of whiskey.

Arcade was still watching, dumbfounded, when Isaac turned back towards their table, two beers in hand.

He came over and took off his hat and placed it on the table, “Veronica’s a real pistol, isn't she.”

He was jostling the two bottles in one hand and Arcade reached over to get them.

“Let me help you with that,” he took the bottles from him, their hands brushing with an electric spark as he did. Isaac sat down across the table.

“Appreciate it.”

Arcade raised one of the bottles to him in a half salute, and Isaac joined him in a private toast, one just for the two of them.

“Well, here’s to a proper victory celebration.”

“Yeah, here’s to that.”

Arcade clinked his bottle against Isaac’s and took a drink.

“If you’d told me a year ago that I’d find myself here today, I wouldn’t have believed you. If it weren’t for you, I’d probably still be working for the Followers and slowly losing the rest of my sanity while sitting in that tent day after day. So, cheers.”

He tipped his head back and drowned a long swallow of his beer.

“You were doing good work there, still feel kind of guilty for ripping you out of it.”

Arcade bit back a humorless laugh, “Ah, yes. I was just making breakthrough after breakthrough back there,” he leaned in across the table, “To be honest, I don't think I could even discuss any of that sincerely and without any sarcasm. It’s just too depressing to think about for long.”

“Don’t be so modest, I’m sure you would have figured out what to do,” Isaac smiled one of those little half smiles of his and leaned back in his chair again, “Far as I’m concerned, you always do.”

“Well, with enough stubbornness and sheer refusal to change my ways, maybe. But I’ve never been too good at thinking on my feet. At least not like you did today.”

The haunted look from earlier returned to Isaac’s eyes, and Arcade studied him for a moment. He understood that Isaac would probably need a while before he’d talk about what happened in the Fort today, if he ever would.

But Arcade was patient, he’d be there to hear what he had to say, whenever that would be. He took another sip before putting his bottle back down.

“You know, I might have felt like I was losing my mind in that tent in the Old Mormon Fort, but that was nothing compared to the last few weeks I spent in that bunker with the others,” he looked at the bottle still in his hand and considered the cool chill of condensation on his palm for a moment, “Did you ever have to deal with being locked in with a bunch of old guys who still think you’re the little kid they once knew? I can tell you right now, it's not very fun. I’m glad the fighting happened when it did because I was expecting Johnson and Moreno to rip each other’s throats out any day now. Hell, I don’t think any of us could have stood being in each other’s space any longer.”

Isaac hummed in acknowledgment before asking, “So what are you going to do now?”

“To be completely honest, I’m not sure,” he took his glasses off, rubbing his eyes, and definitely not burying his face in his hands, “ I never thought I’d get this far, so I didn’t really make plans for what to do once it would all be over. I still have a hard time believing it really is. Over, that is,” he paused, “I could just go back to working for the Followers, I suppose.”

“Suppose you could,” Isaac took a drink and looked directly at Arcade over his bottle. Arcade watched the movement of his throat as he swallowed.

“Well, I guess sometimes staying put is the best thing you can do,” Arcade forced himself to look away and replaced his glasses, “Although, I’m still not sure the Followers won’t just kick me out, now that they know about my connection to, well,” he cleared his throat, looking around, “to the place where I grew up. They don't strictly have to, of course. With the NCR gone from the region, they don’t really run the risk of being persecuted for it anymore. But the possibility that they will is still there. After all, we—they, the Followers, I mean—operate outside of the Mojave, too.”

Isaac looked like he was considering that but didn’t say anything else. There was a lull in the conversation, and Arcade took another drink of his beer and studied the label he’d been absentmindedly picking at for a moment.

“You know, I’ve been meaning to ask, but what have you been doing all this time?”

“Just a dumb thing I’d been fixing to do. There’d been some fool’s gold that needed chasing, and I’d been just the fool to do it. Took me all across this damn wasteland, too. Done some things there that I ain’t too proud of.”

“I’d say after what you’ve done here today, you have every reason to be proud.”

“Yeah, well. This isn't the only thing I’ve done. Wasn't enough that I walked from the I-15 to the Colorado River looking for a lost package, I just had to bite off more than I could chew. Part of me just always thought I could put things right, I suppose. Guess I had to learn the hard way that you’re better off letting things be sometimes.”

“Are you now? I thought you’d have come to realize how important it is to get involved in,” he waved his hand as if to somehow encompass the scope of it all, “in everything.”

“That's not what I’m talking about.”

“What are you talking about, then?”

“I’m saying that you shouldn’t go chasin’ ghosts when you know damn well nothing good will come of it.”

“But isn’t that what you’ve been telling me to do all this time, isn’t that why I took up that power armor today?” It came out more accusatory than Arcade had meant to, but it was too late to take it back now.

“I guess what I’m saying is that you have to know when something good’ll come of it after all.”

“Right, like that’s something anyone can ever really know,” Arcade sighed and ran a finger through the ring of condensation his bottle had left on the table, “I just can't figure you out.”

Isaac was quiet for a beat before he spoke again.

“Just don’t want to continue making the same mistakes again and again, is all. I’ve seen firsthand that you’ll just end up overlooking the crater of your past, or that you’ll end up being locked in with all the riches in the world and no way out. That the same old road I’ve been walking would also lead me to that same old ending.”

Isaac ran a hand through his hair and looked almost sheepish for a moment.

“I guess I’d been hoping I’d find some road to walk together with you again instead.”

Arcade almost choked on his beer. He tried to play it off with something he hoped sounded playful but came out more like he was floundering, which was something he happened to be very good at.

“Well, flirtation did get you this far, didn’t it,” he paused.

And that was the crux of the matter, wasn’t it. That he still didn’t know if he wanted to let it get him any further. Because usually, letting it get any further signaled the end of his relationship with men, after they’d both gotten what they’d wanted.

He’d never been very good at building a life with someone that was more than that, but he’d never really wanted to, either. That was Arcade, always content with keeping people at arm’s length.

Eventually he settled on saying, “I don't know if I’m willing to give up what I’m doing here if you don't have a plan either. At least I know that I’m doing good work here.”

Isaac brushed his knees against Arcade’s under the table. It was over quickly enough to be played off as an accidental touch, but they both knew damn well it wasn't.

“I’m sure we could find something good we could be doin’ together, too.”

He laughed and just for a moment, he let himself return that flirtation. He brushed his legs against Isaac’s in return, more deliberate this time.

“Well, even if I prefer to have a plan, I do manage to improvise pretty well. At least sometimes.”

He went to take another drink when he realized his bottle was already empty again. He couldn’t even tell when he’d finished it.

He put the bottle back down and drew a finger around the opening while stealing a glance over at Isaac.

Isaac’s whole attention was focused solely on him.

He took a breath as if he wanted to say something but didn't.

Arcade wanted to close the space between them, but something made him hesitate. There were still enough NCR soldiers around who wouldn't take too kindly to this Legion outlook on things.

But just for a second, he was really considering it. Damn what everyone else would think. So lost in the moment, he didn't want this to ever end.

It did, though. Because life went on and the world kept spinning.

There was a loud crash from the bar. Arcade looked up with a start. A soldier stumbled into several other patrons, all spilling their drinks and breaking glasses and swearing.

Arcade abruptly drew away, the spell of the moment broken just as quickly as it began. Overcome by a flash of panic, Arcade looked around the room. He felt like all eyes would be on them. Like people had to be staring.

They must have taken notice of their indiscretion.

No one was even acknowledging them. There was still a commotion over at the bar, Francine Garret was currently trying her best to kick out the drunk soldier.

He looked around the rest of the casino.

More people had come in as the evening wore on and they were playing pool, watching the band, heads together in conversation, or bent over their drinks as the night grew late.

Cass was still entertaining her crowd of admirers in the other room, her cheeks whiskey red. The drink didn't make her as mad as it usually did, she was charming Freesiders and NCR soldiers alike with her proud grin and her dirty jokes that had the whole poker table roaring with laughter.

He was startled out of his train of thought when Isaac pushed his chair back to get up.

“Better cut you loose, late as it is,” he picked up his hat from where he’d left it on the table.

“Right,” he said for lack of anything better to say. He’d automatically gotten up when Isaac did.

“Walk you up to your room?”

Arcade nodded and followed him. They pushed their way through the crowded room, the Atomic Wrangler bursting at the seams with people and noise by now, until they made it to the stairs. He followed closely behind Isaac as they made it upstairs.

It was only remotely more quiet once they made it to the second floor, the distance barely doing anything to muffle the party still going on downstairs. Neither of them said a word until they got to the doors to their adjacent rooms, where Isaac turned to him

“Alright, don't much like sleeping in unfamiliar beds, but I figure it’ll be a step up from the last few months. Little rest might do me good,” he knocked on the door frame before unlocking it, “Well then, I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Yeah,” Arcade tried to play off the awkwardness that overcame him with a cough, “Yeah, see you in the morning. And I hope you’ll sleep well, too.”

Not trusting himself to meet Isaac’s eyes, he said the last part more to the door than to him, but still managed to catch his little smile.

Arcade forced himself to unlock the door without looking up again and went inside.

He closed it behind him and just leaned against it for a moment. He could already feel the pounding in his skull increase tenfold. Then he crossed the room in a few long steps and hung his coat up in the closet on the far wall.

The music filtering in from downstairs only made the headache building behind his eyes and the swimming of the room around him so much worse.

He knew damn well that the headache really couldn’t be from those few beers he’d had, but still decided that he needed to sober up and take a cold shower before he could even think of sleeping.

Yeah, it was definitely just the alcohol that was getting to him. He’d gone too long without a drink.

Whatever the cause, this unforgiving headache might kill him either way. At least a shower would make the rest of the world seem more bearable.

He could still feel the music from downstairs pounding through the floor more than he could hear it.

Before heading for the shower, he flipped the sheets on the bed over, decided not to look too closely on any stains they might have been covering because he knew he'd not get a wink on this bed if he did, and cranked open the room's small window as far as it would go to let in some night air.

Arcade wasn’t an idiot, of course he knew where their relationship had been heading. The inevitable point of no return they had been hurdling towards for a while now. He knew he could probably go over to Isaac’s room right now. He wouldn’t be turned down.

But something kept him from taking that final step.

If he really dug deep, he realized that he was probably still afraid of having opened up to someone. He wanted to run from being known so well. Couldn’t allow himself to be known even more intimately. It was flimsy excuse of line he was drawing in the sand—and so far Isaac had crossed every other line he’d been holding on to like they hadn’t even been there.
He’d been holding on staunchly to the belief that lovers made poor confidants. And it had been easy to cut them out of his life when they hardly knew anything about each other. He was terrified of the prospect of having already confided in someone and falling for him anyway. Terrified of what could happen now.

But letting his thoughts go there got dangerously close to acknowledging that this was real and he was falling for Isaac.

Arcade let out a weary sigh. He undressed and stepped into the shower, deciding to shut his thoughts up and clear his spinning head.

He stood under the stream for a minute, just enjoying the feeling of the water running down his body. He felt the tension melt out of his back under the steady stream of water, eternally grateful they had running water in Freeside again. Thanks to Isaac talking sense into the King.

His thoughts were still a little tipsy, but the water was starting to clear his mind again.

He let his thoughts drift back to the day’s events, staring at the drain like it’d tell him what to do.

Eventually, inevitably, his thoughts drifted back the hug they’d shared today. Him and Isaac. What use was there in fighting his thoughts, really.

To the way Isaac’s back had looked when he’d bent down, to the tan skin of his back the motion had exposed. Arcade wished nothing more than to not have been wearing the power armor at that moment, to really have been able to feel Isaac so close to him. He let his thoughts wander and the sensation of how Isaac had held his face between his hands came back to him. The only skin contact he’d shared with him in weeks. They’d been so close.

But Arcade wanted more.

He stood under the spray of water and let muscle memory take over. He let his hands start to drift down his body as if on their own volition. Down his torso, his soft stomach, until they eventually zeroed in on his cock.

He ran his thumb over the head. Isaac’s would probably be uncut. Most men he’d been with had been. He’d gotten some weird questions in his day because he wasn’t. Isaac’d be more sensitive there, coming undone at the barest touch or the brush of his lips.

As he was idly stroking himself, he wondered what it would be like to run his hands through Isaac’s hair. How it would feel to pull on it as he straddle his thighs.

He moved his other hand, sliding it lower down his body, stroking the inside of his thigh. Moving behind himself, feather light touches moving down, down, circling his ass with a wet finger. But then he moved lower still between his legs, towards his perineum.

His cock jerked in his hand, the heat of arousal growing stronger, and he tightened his grip around it. No longer able to keep up a coherent fantasy, he suppressed a groan, letting his thoughts drift from image to image.

Isaac’s hands, rougher than his own and calloused from his time spent shooting his revolver.

Would they be face to face like lovers? Or would it be hard, rough—an inevitable conclusion in a quick and dirty fling.

Isaac’s plump lips around his cock, tongue stroking him, brown eyes looking up at him through thick lashes. His dark hair dangling in his eyes. How Arcade's cum would look on his face.

Then the fantasy shifted, he imagined how easily Isaac would manhandle him. His square shoulders, his lean back. Arcade submitting to him, open, giving himself fully. Isaac could bend him over so easily; just take him with those strong arms and have his way with him.

He was stroking in earnest now, hips jerking into his own hand.

He remembered each chance contact they'd had, each touch of skin. How Isaac’s skin would have felt when he handed him that helmet today if he hadn’t been wearing those gloves.

As he stroked his cock faster, he focused the firm pressure on his perineum more and more, seeking more pleasure but denying himself to go all the way.

If he couldn't let himself have the real thing, it was best not to get too caught up in fantasizing about it, either.

His hips started bucking in an aborted motion as his strokes became more frantic. He couldn't stop picturing what Isaac had looked like when he’d bent over, how perfect his ass and his thighs had looked even through his pants.

He could feel himself getting closer, precum leaking and being washed away by the steady stream of water.

He finally allowed himself to circling a finger around his rim.

With a final twist of his hand he bucked into his own fist. White hot release washed over him and he opened his mouth in a wordless cry.

He slumped back against the wall, the shower tiles cold against his overheated skin, and sighed. Fuck.

After leaning against the wall like that for a while, he finally shut the water off when it started to turn cold, toweled off, got dressed. Then he paused in his steps for a moment. He wiped the steam off the cracked mirror and stared at his blurry reflection before turning his back to it with another sigh and shutting off the bathroom lights.

When he got out of the bathroom, the music downstairs had stopped. The bar must have finally closed for the night. For a moment, the silence filling the room felt almost eerie. Even the voices drifting in from Vegas proper appeared distant and muted at this time of night.

Somewhere in the distance, a dog was barking.

He noticed that a moth had gotten in and was now incessantly bashing itself against the ceiling light, so he shut it off and left the window open, hoping it would find its way out again.

With a sigh, Arcade got into bed and tried not to think about anything at all. His shoulders were aching from the power armor and leaning against the shower wall hadn’t helped, but he just tried to turn his brain off, stop thinking so much, and let the post orgasm glow carry him to sleep.

When Arcade came downstairs early the next morning, he wasn't surprised to see Isaac was somehow already up. He hardly ever seemed to sleep, keeping a schedule so rigid he might as well have been running on military time.

And Arcade was up because even though he’d told himself that taking out scumbags of the Legion’s magnitude wouldn't cause him to lose any sleep, well, then it wouldn’t have been the only thing he’d been wrong about.

He knew that about now, rigor mortis would probably be giving way to autolysis on the dead man into whose eyes he’d looked yesterday. Bacteria beginning to digest him from the inside out. Or maybe the Legion had set some of their dogs loose when they’d abandoned camp and they were doing the digesting right now.

When Arcade rounded the corner to fully step into the dealer’s room, he was relieved to see that Isaac was the only person there. As happy as he’d been for the Garret’s that the place had been so crowded last night, this is what felt natural to him. And to Freeside.

It also meant they could finally talk—in actual privacy this time.

“Morning, you’re up early,” Arcade said needlessly as he walked up to Isaac.

“Mornin’,” Isaac lifted his head to look at him with a stolen smile across his lips.

As Arcade got closer, he’s attention fell on the game Isaac was playing in the casino all by himself. He immediately recognized it.

“You're playing solitaire.”

“Mhhmm, sure am. You know it?”

“I—yeah, I do. I actually used to play it all the time when I was a boy.”

“Deck ain’t good for much else besides this and caravan. Might as well be playing with marked cards, y’know.”

To illustrate his point, he drew three new cards from the pack and revealed their backs: one from the Ultra-Luxe, one from the Lucky 38, and a card with a black and red logo that Arcade didn’t recognize.

Arcade let his eyes trail over the rows of cards Isaac had laid out on the table. Already he was planning what cards needed to go where.

“Can I take over?”

“Sure, take a stab at it. Never been too good at patience games anyway.”

“I can't promise you I'm any better, it's been years since I’ve played this, given how hard it is to find a deck anywhere outside the casinos that hasn't been butchered for someone's caravan collection.”

“Guilty as charged,” Isaac laughed, “Been trying to get the hang of something that isn’t caravan, read about this one here in an old book once.”

Arcade pulled up a chair and shuffled it closer to Isaac. Close enough for their thighs to brush together if he moved just so.

“As I said, I used to play it often when I was little,” he surveyed the cards spread across the table, the green felt scrapped and torn, worn down from years of blackjack and poker games.

To his side, he could feel the heat radiating off of Isaac’s body.

“Growing up as an only child on a military base could get quite boring, so finding something to occupy your time with was a useful skill to have.”

Isaac gave a thoughtful hum to that, encouraging Arcade to keep on going.

“Some of my fondest memories of that time are me playing cards by myself late into the night while listening to Johnson and Moreno argue about politics. I probably picked up a lot more than I was supposed to or that they thought I would understand. Luckily nobody questioned me or thought to send me off to bed if I knew how to stay quiet and keep to myself. I guess I learned pretty early how to keep my head down.”

He flipped over three new cards off the deck and it was like the most natural thing in the world to fall back into. This was what people before the war must have meant when they said that something was like riding a bike.

Red cards going on top of black cards, counting down.

“Been thinking a lot about your past lately, haven’t you?”

“I suppose so. There's just been a lot that's given me reason to reflect on it,” Arcade replied without looking up from the cards spread out on the table. He was trying to free a king who was buried in the pack under six or so cards.

It still felt strange to him, being so open about this with someone.

“Guess you’ve given me reason to reflect on mine some, too.”

“Oh?” Arcade put down a new card. Black on red, counting down.

“Been a long time coming, I reckon. Just hoped to keep on running from it but the past has a habit of always catching up with you, eventually.”

He paused and Arcade looked up from the rows of cards on the table to find Isaac deep in thought, eyes fixed blankly in the middle distance. Arcade had just unearthed an ace from the stock and placed it on the table.

“After I left you at the bunker, I met someone. Was a courier for the Express too back in my time there. Never met him before, though. Always thought that job was a clean break to get away from everything but look how that turned out.”

He made an aborted gesture as if to encompass the entirety of the situation.

“Never was one for feeling tied down but I guess I’ve made some choices that tied me to places even as I tried to run from ‘em.”

Arcade wondered distantly, then, if this was it. If he was one of those choices that had him tied down. Maybe this was the ‘goodbye, it was nice knowing you, you’ve outlived your usefulness to me’ talk he hadn't realized he’d been dreading.

Maybe it was just one of those things and he’d fumbled his way through last night just badly enough to ruin things for good.

“You asked me last night what I’ve been doing since we last saw each other. Guess I should have talked more about that than I did,” Isaac paused and Arcade turned to look at him again when he didn’t continue.

Isaac had pulled a cigarette from his pack and was petting his pockets for his lighter. He found it and flicked it on, then leaned forward to light the tip of it. Arcade absentmindedly ran his thumb over the stack of cards in his hands, wondering where exactly this was going.

Finally, Isaac clinked the zippo shut and went on.

“As I said, met this man who used to be a courier too. And he made me look at things differently. Made me look at the past again and realize it’s not something you can run from. Maybe you don't have to, either. Been forced to look at it again and forced to look at myself, too. Realized I gotta do right by some people I cut off.”

He took a long drag, letting the smoke filter out through his nose and idly tapping the ash. On the table, the rows of cards were getting longer and longer as Arcade instinctively went on playing.

“Been running so much, I even made running from places my job. But after talking to this other courier I figured maybe the job isn’t just running from things after all. Tried to put things in a new perspective and saw the connections I’d made with those deliveries,” he laughed, “maybe I just needed a kick in the ass to see it.”

And Arcade would be damned if he said he couldn’t relate to that. He’d been stuck in his state of inertia, in just trodding down the same old path and continuing to work just as he had, even after despondency had long burrowed into his head.

But then Isaac came along and had let Arcade take him aside to rant about those thoughts he’d kept buried so well. And Isaac hadn’t just nodded along to whatever it was he’d had to get out, he’d actively listened to him, even encouraged him.

What a damned thing that was, to be given that much trust in such a short time. And he hardly felt like he’d earned any of it.

Arcade was still not used to concepts such as “having hope” and “trusting people” again. He wasn't sure if he'd ever been, if he was being entirely honest with himself.

But what they had together was a good thing. And maybe this relationship was more than just a utilitarian social contract to Isaac too, wild as that may seem to Arcade.

Maybe it could also be more than just physical.

He’d uncovered another ace and started building one of the foundation piles. Red on red, counting up.

“Back when I confronted Benny, he said something that got to me. Said I didn't come here for vengeance, that I came to get clued in. I know he was tryin’ to get a rise out of me, maybe talk me over to his side. It's a sorry thing to admit but I figured there's some truth in what he said anyway.”

“Well, you shouldn't let him get away with getting a rise out of you after the fact, either. It seems a little less than constructive to take that from the guy who shot you,” Arcade joked.

“Don't worry, I ain’t about to. But I realized I want to walk back along I-15 again. See what's become of those places I left behind. Maybe even walk that long road back to the place where I grew up.”

Arcade looked up from the rows of cards on the table. It was the first time he’d ever heard Isaac talk about his childhood.

Of course he knew that Isaac had a past, just like everyone else, but it was hard to picture him as a child. He seemed like the desert had somehow just spat him out fully formed one day.

“And I was wondering if you wanted to walk it with me. I reckon there's more places that need the help that this place got. And I figured you might want to come along. After all, I could still use a good looking doctor to look after me,” he said with a smile.

Arcade smiled but was lost in thought for a moment as he flipped over three new cards. Red on black, counting down.

He felt like he was back to where they had started, like nothing had changed and yet everything had changed all at once. They just seemed to be talking in circles.

“It’d be a long walk, of course,” Isaac scratched his jaw, his fingers bristling through the stubble there, “Can you believe they used to put men on the moon? Just shoot them up there, sealing their fate into some metal contraption. How insignificant this must’ve all look from up there. Now we're stuck down here, just scraping by.”

The non sequitur threw Arcade for a loop and pulled his thoughts out of his game.

“What do you mean?”

“Just something else I’ve been pondering. How much easier it must’ve been to cross distances way back when.”

He met Arcade’s eyes and Arcade realized that he wasn't just talking about those roads he’d have to travel any more.

On the floor above them, a faucet sputtered to life as the other patrons of the hotel were beginning to wake up and the spell of the early morning haze was starting to lift.

“So you really don't have any intentions of staying? Not even after everything you’ve done around here? You’d probably get free drinks like that every night, you know,” his tone was still joking but Arcade knew the conversation had turned serious, “Or maybe you had any secret plans to take over from Mr. House.”

Isaac laughed, too, despite it all, “Wouldn't really be much of an independence for this place if I took his spot, would it?”

“Yeah, it wouldn't,” Arcade had all of his cards on the table now.

“I suppose I just noticed how much I could’ve done to change things. It might be you’re making deliveries to a town for years and one day you come back and it just ain’t there any more. For any number of reasons. And I’d never stopped to think about that until now. Or thought that there was something I could have done to prevent that.”

So they’d both been caught up in thinking about the past, about what kind of man they wanted to be. Arcade was finishing the last of the foundation piles. Black on black, counting up.

“So what do you say? We could be taking this show back on the road, if you're still up for it. Go up north, outside NCR territory. And do the kind of work around there we did for Vegas. I don't know if I’d still advise you to throw in with me, all I’m saying is I won't send you packing if you do. I don't know what else to say so I’ll just shut up now.”

Arcade looked at him and the weight of that offer hung heavy between them.

What he ended up saying was, “Yeah, I—we can do that. I’ve hauled my father's power armor out of storage now, I might as well try to do some good with it.”

But what he didn't say was that he'd stay with Isaac forever if he’d let him, reason be damned.

He finished off the last pile of his game with a king.