Chapter Text
You represent something to me. So rare. It is too dumb or trite or feminine to say I love your soul?... I am just beginning to learn to love it all...
Anne Sexton, A Self-Portrait In Letters
ONE of the first things Arcade was taught growing up in Navarro was to not to associate with anyone in the Brotherhood of Steel. It was one of the few things he still held onto, after all this time. And for the decade or so he had been part of the Followers of the Apocalypse, the notion had served him just fine. The Brotherhood were indifferent to the Followers for the most part, and their interests rarely overlapped enough to cause any friction. A lot of locals believed that the NCR had taken the Mojave Chapter out completely, but he knew otherwise.
He didn't have any reason to interact with them, and every reason to avoid them as much as possible.
But that had changed when Six brought Veronica, his friend and a Scribe in the Brotherhood, to the old fort. She was often accompanying him. Arcade couldn't ignore her like he could if she had stumbled into the encampment on her own volition. Much like their mutual friend, she had been volunteering her time and skills to help out his colleagues, and in turn, the people of New Vegas. It wasn't professional or courteous to try and avoid her. She had genuinely been a valuable asset, and had helped so many just by coming every now and then.
Gannon wanted so badly to have a reason, other than the fact she was in the Brotherhood, to dislike her. Something to point out to Six so he'd stop bringing her along. Anything, so he wouldn't have to deal with the risk she posed. She didn't seem to have any ulterior motives, and she wasn't doing the work to impress the Courier. They seemed close friends already. Her wanting to help people was genuine, and she was very capable of doing so with her training.
Worst of all, Arcade knew they had a lot in common.
The Scribe had been coming by more often now with Six's new accommodations at the Lucky 38. Veronica seemed to like the tomb, but he supposed it would be far less dreary than a locked down subterranean bunker. Her company meant the Courier wasn't being left alone all the way up above the Strip. She was another set of eyes to keep an eye out for Six, which eased some of the worries Arcade had about the delivery boy.
One day she came into the encampment by herself. No Courier. No Eyebot or Cyberdog. The Follower tried to look busy by writing down some notes.
"Hey Arcade. What's up?"
The chair Six normally sat at was gestured to.
"What can I do for you, Miss Santangelo?"
"Y'know. I get the feeling you don't like me all that much."
"Did you come and see me just to tell me that? I'm flattered." he replied drily.
"Yeah, I'm really here to pick a bone with my friend's other friend. C'mon blondie, what's your problem? I'm not gonna take your plasma defender off you."
Arcade brushed his hand across where it sat holstered on his hip. She hadn't mentioned the firearm before, but he had seen her eye it off in the past. It was an unusual thing for a wasteland doctor to have.
"Look. I don't have a problem with you personally. You and Six have been really helpful these last few months." admitted Arcade.
"Let me guess. You've had a run in with the Brotherhood before?"
"Something like that." he purposely remained vague.
Veronica sighed.
"We're not all energy weapon confiscators and hoarders, I promise."
The Brotherhood's tactics of taking away dangerous energy weapons and technology might have worked in the first few decades after the war. It was why the Enclave didn't snuff them out completely in the early years. There was also the plan of possible reintegration. After all, they were both the bastard children of the same former government.
"Six has mentioned your grievances with your family before."
"He talks about you fondly, y'know. I'd like us to be friends too."
The last thing the Courier needed was childish in-fighting between his friends. So he would accept the olive branch she held out to him. Even if it went against everything he was taught by his own family.
He could still remember the propaganda: both the juvenile insults and paranoid exaggerations. No doubt that Veronica had heard every single one of them. She didn't seem like the stereotypical zealot, just a kooky young woman who loved her family, despite their shortcomings. He could relate to that, even if he couldn't ever reveal it.
"Alright, Veronica. Show me something I wouldn't know about this thing then."
He passed over his plasma defender to her.
"I will need it back, though." he added.
"Oh can you imagine if I took it? I'd never hear the end of it from Six!"
TWO days after its audio outburst at HELIOS One, the Courier was contacted through the Eyebot about using the data on its logs. Six replayed the transmissions to Arcade. Both the Brotherhood of Steel and the Followers of the Apocalypse requested its data logs in return for potential upgrades to the unit itself.
"I don't know if you care about my opinion, but I'd prefer that you turn ED-E over to the Followers. Surprised, right?"
"Of course I care about your opinion!"
His sudden outburst startled Arcade a touch.
"Have I done somethin' that… I dunno… Makes you think I wouldn't care?" asked the delivery boy shyly, clutching at his own coat.
"No… No. Of course not… I'm just not used too many people caring about what I think."
"Well, I'm only one person but I give a shit about what you have to say." Six berated, prodding a glove covered finger into Gannon's chest. "You're my friend and your insight is both interesting and helpful."
Bashfully, he could imagine himself actually being those things when he was with the Courier.
"Then all is right in the world." he smiled.
"Do you know this April Martimer by any chance?" asked Six.
"I've met her a few times, but she's usually posted at one of our outposts back west. She seems nice. Why do you ask?"
"I guess I'm a little worried about him being opened up and all. I'm quite attached to the little fella."
"I've… noticed." mentioned Arcade flatly. "If you're that worried I'll keep an eye out for you. I'm sure she'll want to talk to you about her plans anyway."
He also needed to keep an eye out for any data on ED-E that could link him and the others to the Enclave. It was unlikely that the logs contained anything incriminating him personally, but there might be something connecting the others. It wouldn't take much to set off the dominoes of him being implicated. Working under the guise of helping out his colleague by request simplified matters.
* * * * * *
ED-E laid dormant, on its side, with cables running from exposed panels into to a terminal. He was so used to its constant drone and hovering that it almost looked like a patient under anaesthesia. A file directory on-screen displayed a multitude of folders, including a notably bloated audio recording folder. Was the robot really recording everything it picked up on its sensors since it was re-activated?
"Mind if I take a look?" Gannon asked Martimer.
"Of course. The Courier asked that you be able to have a look through. I'm glad the on-board operating system automatically transcribes any audio it collects, because I doubt anyone wants to volunteer to spend days scrubbing through recordings of it traversing the environment."
"I'm guessing a lot of those recordings made recently have Six talking to it like a person."
"Actually he requested that anything recorded after its re-activation be left alone. I was assured there wasn't anything noteworthy recorded since."
If the Eyebot was recording anything its sensors picked up, there was surely scores of material that could be used to extort the Courier, from the embarrassing to the incriminating. Maybe he wanted the recordings as a secondary journal, another fail-safe, in case his memories perished again. Though Arcade doubted Six could survive any more brain trauma without it severely disabling him.
"He's right, of course." lied Gannon, for his companion's sake. "There's nothing in there that would be worth going through… unless you got a kick from a fully grown man babying a machine."
He pushed down the temptation to go through those files himself. Six trusted him, and he wasn't going to blunder that with another invasion of his privacy. The Enclave files were open season though.
"There's something sweet about that though, I think. He must really care about this robot. It's a great deal more than folks normally do."
"I suppose…" he conceded.
"Do you think you could keep an eyes on the download while I get lunch? I can grab you something on the way back."
"No need. I got made lunch today."
Arcade opened up another old metal lunchbox that Six had found and cleaned out, this time filled with cute little cut-up sandwiches. Courtesy of the Lucky 38 diner, but packed and delivered by a certain Courier friend of his.
You couldn't scrub files clean of incriminating evidence on an empty stomach.
* * * * * *
The next morning, Gannon wandered over to the tent where April had been working on ED-E. She was cleaning off the table she had been working on, and the terminal was boxed away for transport. Six's metallic gnat was no where to be seen.
"Where's the robot gone?"
"Oh. I sent it home. I finished repairing the outer chassis this morning. I've downloaded all the files off it already. Now the real work begins." she tapped the top of the terminal.
That wouldn't do. Six probably liked the quirks and oddities grafted onto the Eyebot's battered body. Arcade looked over at the scrap bin near her work desk. The bumper sticker was tatters and only recognisable by its colour. However, the vanity plate was still intact. He dragged it out, dusting it off.
Martimer looked on with confusion.
"My friend is pretty attached to that thing. The robot." he explained. "He'll want this."
"Alright. You owe me a piece of scrap metal then."
"I'm sure I can manage."
* * * * * *
Six entered the fort with a brisk and excitable pace. He had been coming by regularly to have lunch with Arcade at the Lucky 38. Sometimes it was just the two of them, but sometimes Veronica or even Raul tagged along. He was shadowed by Rex this time, the old cyberdog trotting contently behind him. The Courier looked to be carrying an old camera.
"Arcade! Look at what I've got!"
"A camera? Don't you have dozens of those?"
"This one works! There's a fellow on the Strip who gave it to me in exchange for gettin' me to take photographs of interesting places. He's supplyin' me with film rolls and has a darkroom to develop any photos I take."
"That's great, Six. Weren't you wanting something like that?" acknowledged Arcade with a smile on his face. His excitement was contagious.
"Yeah! It's a Codac R9000. Twenty-four shots per roll. I haven't looked at the manual yet. I kinda ran here cus' I was so excited. You wanna have a look at it over lunch?"
"Sure. Let me grab my things."
* * * * * *
In the diner booth surrounded by emptied plates, the Courier eagerly showed and went over the specifications of his new camera and the favour he agreed to in exchange for it. Their conversation was probably being monitored by Mr. House, but Arcade doubted the old mogul got anything from Six's bright eyed enthusiasm like the doctor did.
"How's ED-E going?" asked the Courier.
The delivery boy hadn't stopped smiling from the moment he took his headgear off, and Gannon was so invested he hadn't realised he was mirroring the same expression.
"It's not back at the Lucky 38?"
He almost expected it to be hovering around the restaurant.
"No? Should he be?"
"April sent it home. I just assumed it would end up here."
"He might have gone back to Primm. That's where I first activated him."
"Guess we've got another journey on our hands." he beamed, volunteering for another adventure with his friend.
It worked out well that one of Six's photography assignments was in the little town too.
"Should we head off this evening?"
"Wait. You should know that ED-E might look a bit different. Not drastically. April cleaned off its chassis. She had to remove one of the stickers to access one of the panels but I didn't realise she was going to take off everything that was attached."
"Aww. I liked his little accessories." pouted Six.
Arcade passed him the old vanity plate. His face immediately lit up again, and he held it to close to his chest.
"Just so you know, I care about what your opinion on things. I thought you might want this back."
"You're brilliant, Arcade. Have I ever told you that?"
"It's nice to know if my medical profession doesn't work out that I have a strong future in scrap collection."
Six started laughing.
"You're kinda silly too."
"Brilliant but silly?"
"No. Brilliant and silly. Two of my favourite things. Thank you for this."
THREE hundred and fifty years ago, give or take a year or two, construction would have started on the Hoover Dam. Arcade wondered what the people working on the dam, from its engineers to the workers that perished during before its completion, would think of the people trying to fight over it in the present day. They would be certainly shocked to see how the world ended up a few centuries later, if anything.
Arcade had been brought along by Six to the industrial marvel to test out his new camera. He wouldn't be the first tourist to visit and take lots of pictures, but he was definitely the first actual tourist in a long time. Apparently the Courier hadn't seen it up close before, and Gannon had avoided going there alone.
"Well, I'll be. Hoover Dam. One of the last remaining functioning wonders of the Pre-War world." announced Arcade as they meandered down the main road that led up and over the dam. "I'm amazed it's still running at all. Too bad everyone's killing each other over it."
It was crawling with soldiers and other personnel. The Follower supposed he might have come to visit if it wasn't. But if it wasn't NCR, it might be the Brotherhood or the Legion holding it.
"Do you know of any others? Functioning wonders?" Six asked.
"Hmm. Only rumours. Oh! I've seen the Golden Gate bridge in San Francisco. I wouldn't call it functioning though." he gestured with his hands how the bridge looked as he remembered it. "Unless they've patched the massive gap in the middle since I've been."
"When didya visit?"
"I studied there for a bit as part of my post-graduate degree. The Followers have a campus there." Arcade told Six. "The city has really come around in the last few decades. It goes to show how people can achieve great progress and restoration when we work together."
"Suppose I'll have to visit sometime then." said the Courier happily. "I'd like to see the ocean too."
"It's not as glamorous as New Vegas, but it's certainly got a lot going for it."
After taking a few 'happy snaps', Arcade caught Six taking a candid photo of him overlooking the dam. Then another of him looking annoyed about it.
"You're wasting your film."
"Let's take one together then."
To his surprise, the delivery boy slipped off his mask and helmet. He passed the camera to the doctor as he fixed his hair and rubbed at his eyes.
"Ugh. Bright. Gimme a sec."
"I'm surprised you feel safe enough to take that off."
"I've spotted at least three posted snipers since we got here. If they wanted me dead I would be already."
Gannon slowly spun on the spot, trying to confirm that with his own eyes. He spotted only one sniper, obviously perched up atop one of the generator turrets.
He offered back the camera to Six.
"Can you take it? You're taller than me."
"Okay. But you'll be mid-blink in this shot."
* * * * * *
Six insisted he try and find a souvenir during their dam visit, and that there might be one in the Visitor Centre. It didn't seem in the Republic's interests to be running a gift store at one of their most valuable strategic centres, but funding for the Mojave campaign had to come from somewhere.
But the lack of kitschy goods inside the building didn't stop the intrepid delivery boy, who sauntered over to the reception desk where a young woman sat staring at a terminal. If there was a souvenir of the industrial wonder to be found, whether it be a key-chain or a bobble-head, he would get his hands on it. Even if it meant chatting up the receptionist.
Overcome with secondhand embarrassment, Arcade wandered around the lobby while guards eyed off his every move. He didn't want to listen to his friend talk sweetly to someone else. Though, judging by the amount of giggling and hair twirling, it was working on her. She handed him a snow-globe.
Mission successful. Could they leave now?
She looked surprised when he immediately took off to show Arcade his new prize.
"Ta-da!" he gave it a shake.
"Well done."
Six waved the receptionist goodbye. She seemed sad to see to the mysterious masked ranger go so soon.
* * * * * *
Outside the visitor centre, the Courier compared the snow-globe dam to the real thing and watched the 'snow' fall inside the half-sphere up against the sunlight.
"I'd like to see snow. Real snow." he quietly muttered to himself as he stashed the snow-globe in his pack.
"Have you been tested for STDs, Six?" asked Arcade.
The delivery boy stopped in his tracks, visibly confused.
"I don't remember what that acronym stands for. Why do I get the feelin' it's bad?"
"Sexually Transmitted Disease. Our labs are all a few days west of here, but we can send a sample off to be tested."
The closest labs were probably back somewhere in Boneyard, depending on the travelling conditions. Keeping samples as intact as possible was a challenge but small collections were manageable with a competent caravan team. The results could be relayed quickly and reliably back via radio transmission.
"Hold on. Wait. Do you think I'm-" Six's posture wobbled around, and he nervously tucked himself into a set of crossed arms.
"It's a confidential test, I'm making the suggestion as your doctor."
"Arcade. I don't. I haven't." he started floundering.
"Taking a sample hurts no more than injecting a stimpak if that's what you're worried about."
"Arcade. I've got no game, really."
"What?"
"I-I haven't been with anyone." admitted Six, his helmet craned down at the ground. "At least not since I woke up in Goodsprings. Before that? Who fucking knows. Since then? I haven't taken anyone on a date. I haven't even as much as kissed anyone."
"Then why all the flirting?"
"It's like you said. Overt flirtation will get you anywhere." he held out the snow-globe and shook it.
It was was hard to deny its effectiveness. The Courier had bypassed security protocols, and scored heavy discounts or even freebies, like his new souvenir, all with just what people wanted to hear.
"Do you even find the people you flirt with attractive?"
He wasn't asking about himself. Some insight was important.
"I mean. Some of 'em. The girl at reception was cute. It's sorta nice makin' people happy too. I do think you're a good looking doctor of that's what you're worried about."
The doctor wasn't worried, but a sense of relief found him regardless.
"So you've never taken the opportunity to take it further, have you?"
"No. It's not like I haven't been… tempted…to…" Six swung on his heels.
"You know. If you think it's appearances holding you back, I can safely say that you're pretty handsome. I'm sure others would agree with me."
"Is that… your medical opinion?" The Courier asked, audibly confused.
Arcade shrugged casually.
"You should be fine with making sure you wear protection and watching out for any common symptoms. I can give you one of the Followers' informational pamphlets if you'd like." offered the doctor to his companion. "The NCR government still prints them off."
"Er… thanks, Arcade. But I already know I'd disappoint anyone who actually takes me… I mean, my flirtin'… seriously." lamented Six. "I can still send off a sample if you think it's worthwhile though."
Couriers weren't known for staying or sticking around. Six had wanderlust typical of his efficient colleagues.
"I mean, the lab can pick up other sorts of diseases you might be carrying. It's not just for STDs. And if you do decide to be intimate with someone I can source you some protection. It's a little hard to come by around here."
The delivery boy buried his head into his hands, letting out a drawn out embarrassed groan.
"Thank you? I-I think I might throw myself off the side of the Dam now."
Arcade quickly grabbed Six's shoulders, holding him in place.
"I was kiddin'!"
FOUR hay bales were loaded into a borrowed wheel barrow.
"Should I add hay to your dietary requirements?" asked Arcade.
"No!" laughed Six. "These aren't for me. We're making a delivery to some friends of my mine. Is it okay if you carry one? I doubt they'll all stay the moment I hit a bump."
Looking out on Highway 95's patchy asphalt, it wouldn't take long to test that theory. They had travelled along New Vegas's roads a few times together now, like blood cells circulating around the body and back to the heart. He grabbed one of the bales by its string and hoisted it over his shoulder like a itchy rucksack.
"Will I like these friends of yours?" Arcade asked Six.
"I think so. I might get upset if you don't."
The Courier's friends ended up being a paddock of abandoned brahmin and bighorners. The nearby farmstead was burnt out, which looked to have happened recently, and there were no humanoid signs of life. Suddenly the cart of hay made complete sense. Their ribs hung close to their skin, and their bodies hollowed out, but Six claimed they looked a whole lot worse before he had started feeding them. Offloading the bales and snapping the cords off with a knife, the animals eagerly tucked into their meal, which according to the delivery boy would last them at about a week.
"I keep telling caravaneers and ranchers that they can come pick them up, but I guess they're still too weak to make the journey anywhere nearby."
"They might also think it's a trap. 'Here. Free livestock for you to take.' …seems awfully suspicious."
Six sighed.
"I guess I'll have to herd them off somewhere myself then. If you want something done…"
The two-headed cattle and oversized goats would probably follow Six anywhere he led them, if their affection toward him was any tell. One of the brahmin started to lick Six with one of her tongues while the other head chewed the cud. The Courier erupted into a fit of giggles as another brahmin joined in on slobbering his upper body.
"Ladies, ladies, please! You're gonna get cow spit in my gas mask!" he playfully told his four legged friends, dodging their damp onslaught by giving them vigorous scratches around all of their faces.
Even with the mountain of new responsibilities that Six had been burdened with, he still went out of his way to help others, humanoid or not. It was a pleasant change to see him enjoying himself and joyful to hear him laugh so earnestly. Dulce et utile.
"You're smilin'!" pointed out Six, hopping the fence to escape and rejoin his companion. "I take it you like these friends of mine?"
"It's pretty funny watching you get slobbered."
"You're always welcome to join in, y'know." Six made wet sounding kissing noises under his mask, and leaned over on one foot.
Arcade playfully pushed his hand against the front of Six's headgear. A vain attempt to hide his reddened face. He turned himself to face the road north, and away from his cohort.
"…I take it we're finished with this delivery?"
"Yeah, but there's something else I wanna show you that's nearby! C'mon!" Six excitedly tugged at the doctor's lab coat.
He was led a fair distance away, through shallow hills of creosote bushes. The wreckage of a vertibird appeared wedged in between two slopes. It had been there some time, judging by the level of displaced dirt that filled around its body. They stopped to observe from a safe distance.
"A vertibird. Interesting. It's been a long time since I've seen one of these." he mentioned off-handily.
"When did you see one? This is the first one I've seen up close." asked Six.
Gannon couldn't just keep his damn mouth shut around the Courier. He racked his brain for a plausible answer. The NCR had a few operational vertibirds, didn't they? But the government wouldn't have let the Followers near any of them even when they were incorporated officially. They weren't flown very often either. It would only elicit more questions from his inquisitive companion.
It had to be a boring answer.
"Huh. Good question. Must have been in a book."
"You wouldn't happen to have that book still?"
"No. I don't, sorry."
While it wasn't a book, he was reminded of a story some of the Remnants used to tell about vertibird plans being stolen from right under the Enclave's noses. Apparently the Brotherhood got their hands on it, but the thief didn't sound like someone from one of the California chapters. The plans got passed around to the Shi and eventually the NCR, like the world's slowest pathogen.
"What do you know about 'em?"
"Uh, what does anyone know about them." Arcade staggered around his own words. "Big... flying machines, right? Crazy helicopters. So weird."
"Guess it wasn't a very informative book then."
"I guess not…"
Six ventured closer, and Arcade cautiously followed behind him. He could make out the bulky silhouette of a few sentry bots. They weren't active, but it wouldn't take much for something to switch them back on.
"These sentry bots were taken out recently." said Arcade, examining one of the pilfered shells. Its arm fell off as the doctor touched it. "Whatever took them out might be still around, so be careful. I wouldn't want to fight anyone with that kind of firepower."
"I wouldn't wanna fight me either!" bragged his companion.
He should have known. How else would the Courier know about the wreckage? It wasn't like him to drag them into danger knowingly.
Six approached the downed craft with interest, stepping over bare skeletons. Either their clothing had been taken, or it had decomposed with the rest of the body, indicating the plane had crashed long enough ago for the passengers to be picked clean. The delivery boy seemed to be looking for something, and disappeared into the hollow of the fuselage.
VEM-105 2193. The serial number suggested it was made alongside the one Daisy flew, if he remembered the numbers correctly. Whitman had explained to him how the serial numbers worked at one point. The skeletons must have belonged to his parents' former colleagues. He always knew that the others, people he knew only by association or by personnel logs, had long gone their own separate ways.
But he had always hoped that they all managed to get out okay.
He took a closer look at one of the skeletons. It was pure coincidence, but it was splayed out just like his father had looked in the autopsy report. He felt his fingers go numb. It was so long ago he saw those pictures, surely he must have been misremembering. Arcade tried to focus on the noises that his companion was making from inside the wreckage, but all he could hear was his heart racing and his shallow breaths.
"Six?" called out Arcade, his voice anguished.
"Yeah?" Six popped his head out from the crashed vehicle. He was holding a large Tesla Cannon prototype to his chest.
"Get out of that thing." he snapped.
"Gimme a sec." The Courier vaulted onto the top of the old plane, sliding down to the ground.
"Is this the part where I sweep up your remains into a Nuka Cola bottle?" he teased, 'aiming' his new-found treasure at the doctor.
"Not funny." Gannon snipped. "Now, would you mind pointing that somewhere else? Thanks."
"Sorry. I-I thought you might like stuff like this." Six stammered. "Y'know, Pre-War stuff. You seem to know an awful lot about it."
The Follower cast his eyes away, looking troubled.
"I thought there might be somethin' worth salvaging here considerin' I found this thing last time." The Courier gestured up the cannon. "I stashed it inside one of the cases inside the plane. Too heavy and bulky to carry at the time."
"It will fit in the wheelbarrow, at least." he sneered.
FIVE o'clock felt like a dead hour. There was still enough sunlight to justify working on something, but not enough time to either start or finish something. Still too early for dinner.
It was always hard to go back to dull experiment outlines and spreadsheets after travelling with the Courier. Though his body appreciated the rest that came with his research work, it still bored him out of his mind. Some aspects of it became more tolerable though, knowing he could talk to Six or their mutual friend, Veronica. He never thought he would make a friend in the Brotherhood, but it wasn't like she knew about his familial history.
There was also the achievements he could take pride in, like Freeside having a steady supply of power and far less injuries coming in with the Fiends scattered. The clinic relied less on back-up generators for surgeries, cutting their costs significantly. They could also run air-conditioning and fans at their locations too. Before too long they would need it. Less injuries meant supplies didn't need to be replenished as often, and more Followers could do more with their time.
It meant Farkas was busier, and Followers scattered at different positions nearby visited the fort more regularly. To his surprise, his colleagues came over and made conversation with him, just to chat. They often asked about Six, which made sense, the delivery boy had been making waves, and Arcade was often an accomplice to his exploits. Some of his colleagues had started calling Six 'the wife', which annoyed Gannon to no end.
Six thankfully seemed oblivious to the title.
Ignacio Rivas, a face he hadn't seen since HELIOS One, had made a visit to the fort. Arcade hoped whoever was relieving his role was prepared for babysitting the chem fuelled idiot still wrecking havoc there. 'Fantasmo' or whatever his name was, had taken credit for their work, saying that they only 'took care of some little robots' for him.
Rivas stopped by Arcade's tent.
"Greetings, Arcade!" he waved, less sullen after not being tormented on a daily basis.
"Hello, Ignacio." Arcade didn't move from writing notes at his desk.
"I know a bunch of people keep calling that Courier friend of yours 'your wife' but you're not actually dating him, right?"
Arcade sighed, pinching at his nose underneath the bridge of his glasses.
"Where is this going, Ignacio?" he grumbled.
"Well, I was planning on asking him out before my next assignment. He seemed interested in me when he visited, and if he's single…"
A buried and twisted part of him burst out and wanted to outright lie to his colleague, to say that Six was off limits. He quickly brushed it off as being protective of his friend, but the sinking feeling persisted in staying.
The Courier was his own person and could make his own decisions.
"Next assignment? You're not at HELIOS One any more?"
"No. The NCR promoted the imbecile. They sent him off to Hoover Dam."
At least there was a whole army, engineers and mechanics to baby-sit said imbecile. If they were smart they'd throw him off the sides of the dam.
"Bureaucracy at its finest." Arcade sneered.
"About your friend…"
"Yeah. Okay. Just a warning though, Six flirts with everyone." Well, not literally everyone, but it sure felt like it. "He never means anything by it though. Good luck. Be direct."
"Alright, thanks."
"By the way, Ignacio?"
"Yes?"
"Don't you dare hurt him."
* * * * * *
When Ignacio returned to the Old Mormon Fort in the evening, he didn't bother Arcade again. Gannon listened in on his conversation, curious to hear if his colleague went ahead with his plan.
"Have a good day, Rivas?" one of their mutual co-workers asked.
It sounded like Ortal, though there was no visual confirmation from where he was.
"I'm still trying to figure that out." Ignacio replied. "I finally mustered the courage to ask a fellow on a date, but he didn't know it was a date."
"Oh? What happened?"
Rivas painted a picture of his 'date' with the Courier, articulately spoken and proper. At first he asks if they could grab some dinner, to which Six tries to give the other Follower some of his rations. Then Ignacio heeds Arcade's advice, and explains, no, he wanted to have dinner with him. Six hasn't had dinner yet, incidentally, and the two of them go to the private restaurant at the Lucky 38. The one run by robotic staff, in the building no-one goes into.
It's one of the few places Six feels safe enough to take of his head gear, but his colleagues don't know that.
"Wait, you asked out Arcade's friend? What's he like?"
"He's really quite sweet, although a bit odd. He remembered meeting me at my station and asked about any updates on the matter. But he seemed more interested in talking about the Followers, and what we do, than talking about himself or getting to know me personally."
Because the Courier didn't know it was a date, Arcade acknowledged to himself. He could only imagine the blubbering hot mess Six would be on an actual date, if his reactions to his flirts being rejected or reciprocated beyond his intention were any indicators.
His other colleague mostly agreed to his unspoken commentary, that the conversation he was having was normal for someone not on a date.
"I suppose. I was warned to be direct with him." Rivas dropped his volume, but Gannon could still hear his hushed voice. "He wouldn't stop talking about Arcade either."
"Did you at least clear it up that you wanted to go on a date?"
"Yes. I asked him if was interested in going on a date with me after he finished his lunch. At this point he starts acting nervous and starts apologising. He turns me down, but none of his excuses really addressed why he didn't want to."
"It's hard putting yourself out there." she sighed.
SIX giggled giddily as the doctor called him his 'little buttercup'. If Arcade could roll his eyes any harder they'd detach from their extraocular muscles and the optic nerve and drop out of his skull. Despite his coquetting, Dr. Richards was the well meaning sort, unprepared of the harsh reality of being a battlefield medic when he signed up. Too far away from home and unable to stomach the guilt of leaving: he was making the most of a terrible situation.
And Six's intentions of visiting the NCR outpost were well meaning too. Beyond simply paying a visit to his sniper acquaintances, that is. These people were at the front line of keeping the Legion at bay, despite the faults of their nation. It wasn't like Arcade couldn't see the bigger picture.
But he didn't like being accused of taking medical supplies.
The delivery boy came to his defence, of course, but he ended up feeling like an unwanted visitor. He knew his presence was merely tolerated. Most of the patients he ended up treating at least thanked him for his help.
Between the three of them they could deal with the flood of injured. Some of them wouldn't be able to return to battle, but would they would survive. Six also made an excellent medical assistant to both doctors when he wasn't being sweet talked to. Arcade had always found the delivery boy's flirtatious antics annoying, but knowing he didn't really mean most of it made it easier to ignore.
But he felt very uncomfortable when someone flirted with Six. Especially when he so casually removed his mask and helmet when asked. It took him weeks to finally see his friend's face. Richards saw what he looked like just by asking.
But he then realised he never just asked the Courier if he could see what he looked like under his gas mask.
Was it really just a matter of politely asking? Maybe he needed to take his own advice about being direct.
* * * * * *
After treating a plethora of patients and splattered with blood, Arcade looked forward to a bath. It was no Lucky 38 bathroom, but the Novac motel room tub would scrub them both clean. Hopefully the nausea that Gannon felt would wash away too. Between the horrific injuries and his own petty jealously he dealt with during the day, he had plenty to feel sick about.
"Y'know. 'Buttercup' suits you more than it does me." said Six matter-of-factly on their return journey. "They're apparently cute yellow flowers."
"Please don't call me that..." Arcade insisted through clenched teeth.
The Courier hadn't made the connection to the other 'buttercup': the Pre-War children's toy horse. The nickname was barely disguised euphemism.
"You don't like flowers?"
"I like flowers. I don't like the idea of you reusing that nickname."
Speaking of flowers, the Apricot Mallow that Six had gifted him needed to be re-potted. It had grown so much in such a short period of time-
"I've always wanted a garden with lots of flowers… I guess I haven't stayed in the same place long enough..." Six voiced his own flowery tangent of thoughts aloud. "Wait a second. Hold on. Were you bein' jealous that I was bein' flirted with today?"
"It's a change of pace from you doing it all the time." snipped Gannon.
"People like bein' complimented."
"They don't like being lead on."
"I'm not tryin' to lead people on!"
"They don't know that!" argued Arcade. "Why bother with it? What's the point?"
The Courier stopped. He hung his head down, his visor facing the ground in silence.
"I want… people to like me..." he quietly admitted.
"It's not worth it if you're going to get hurt. All it takes is one person misinterpreting your intentions… and…. I don't want you being taken advantage of." Arcade pinched the bridge of his nose. "You can be really naive sometimes."
"Do you really think that?"
"You've lost most of your memories. It's not… it's not your fault." Arcade assured Six. "I'm trying to keep you safe. That's all."
It was hard not being protective of the first friend he had made in years.
"Tell me somethin'. Does it bother you?"
"Sometimes." divulged Arcade. He wasn't going admit he didn't mind it when it was being directed at him. "But I know you don't mean anything by it."
"Right. 'Course not."