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It was quiet, as most nights in Zion Valley were, but the air felt different now, more charged than peaceful as Courier Six and Follows-Chalk made their way back to the Dead Horses camp. The scent of woodsmoke carried on the breeze beckoned them closer and closer to the camp, and if Six squinted she could see the wispy plumes of smoke rise up into the sky. She nearly tripped over a rough patch of ground and refocused her attention down to the red dirt beneath her feet. She was not yet familiar enough with the rocky terrain of the valley to be able to look anywhere other than where she was walking without tripping.
“Are you sure you can take care of that by yourself?” Follows-Chalk directed a worried look at Six’s forearm, where blood was running all the way down to her fingertips and leaving a trail of droplets on the ground. He reached out to steady her as they stumbled back into the safety of the Dead Horses Camp. “That's an awful wound, even for a yao guai attack.”
“Yeah. Don't worry about me, I'll be fine.” Six offered him a weak smile and wrapped her hand tighter around the jagged cuts the yao guai's claws had carved into her, trying not to spill blood all over the campground. She hoped she'd be fine, anyway. She had already used her last stimpak on it, and still the bleeding hadn't ceased. At least the small cut on her face from where the beast's swipe had forced her into sharp rock had mostly healed. She could feel sticky dried blood on her cheek.
It was maybe an hour past sunset, and though most of the camp had gone silent and still, a few of the tribe members were still huddled around a fire, bathed in warm orange light as they traded stories. Their return had not gone unnoticed, and a few people waved to them, smiles on their faces. Six adjusted the rifle sling over her shoulder and held up her good arm in greeting as Follows-Chalk waved back to them.
He shot her one last concerned glance before joining the group, which caused them to all break out into joyful greetings. The two of them should have been back before sunset, so the others were probably delighted to see that he had returned safely. They were probably delighted to see her, too, but she was more interested in tending to her wounds than stopping to exchange any social pleasantries.
Six avoided the group and folded her hands behind her back as she walked past them to get to Angel Cave, where her medical supplies were tucked safely away along with the rest of her things. She didn't want anyone to see that she was injured; She couldn’t stand to be fawned over. But as she approached the mouth of the cave, she saw Joshua standing there, his arms crossed. The white of his bandages and shirt stood stark against the dark of night. She was no longer afraid of him, as she had been when she first arrived in Zion a couple months ago, but he still cut an intimidating figure.
“You were due back some time ago. What happened?” His tone wasn't as demanding as she expected. He mostly just sounded genuinely curious, though the courier had been in Zion long enough to know that the man hated for anyone under his protection to be away from camp past sunset. He took his role as their acting war chief very seriously, which she could respect, even if she sometimes found it irritating. She was very accustomed to wandering where she wanted, when she wanted, without question. They were beginning to reach a happy medium, though, where sometimes she and Joshua would go out on short walks after dark together, often when neither of them could sleep.
“Got attacked by a yao guai. I didn't even know the damn thing was there until it was practically on top of us. We had to run pretty far to get away from it, and it took us a while to find our way back.” She shook her head, frustrated with herself. It was her responsibility to look out for her companions. “I can't believe I didn't see it. I should have.”
Joshua looked over to where Follows-Chalk was talking excitedly with the other Dead Horses and making grand gestures with his hands, casting animated shadows on the canyon rocks. He was almost certainly telling them what had just happened. Though Six had lived through the story he was telling, she still wished she could join the audience. Follows-Chalk’s storytelling was some of the best she’d ever heard.
“I understand. Are the two of you alright?” Joshua looked to Six then, his eyes trailing up and down, searching for any sign of injury. His gaze lingered first on her bloodied face, then on where her arms disappeared behind her back. He narrowed his eyes.
“Yeah, just a couple scratches. Nothing I can’t patch up.” She shrugged and made to brush past him into the cave, eager to end the conversation and finally lick her wounds in peace. She heard Joshua's footsteps echo hers as she walked, and she only made it a few feet before he stopped her, which she should have expected. From behind her, he could clearly see the tear in her duster and the blood soaking through the cloth and dripping down her hands.
“Six.” Of course if anyone could turn her name into an admonishment, it was Joshua. There was even more authority in his voice than usual. She sighed softly, preparing herself for the lecture that was surely to follow, and turned to face him.
“Joshua, really, I'm alright.” She knew he had enough to worry about without adding her physical well-being to the pile.
“That is more than ‘a couple scratches’. May I see?”
Six looked him over, saw the determination in his icy blue eyes, and relented. By then she was exhausted, cold from the blood loss, and beginning to warm up to the idea of someone else taking care of her wound. She haphazardly dropped her rifle to the ground and shrugged off her duster, failing to stifle a pained gasp as she freed her injured arm from the sleeve. Joshua took it from her and leaned closer as she held out her forearm for him to see.
He muttered something too muffled by the bandages around his face for Six to make out and led her farther into the cave, never looking back and simply knowing that she would follow. She thought he seemed tense, but then he almost always was. They came to the table Joshua used for gun maintenance, and Six lingered a few steps away, partially obscured in the shadows of the cave, uncertain of what exactly was to come.
Joshua swiped the two ever-present piles of pistols further toward the edges of the table and stepped back, gesturing with his free hand to the cleared space. Her bloodied, torn ranger duster was folded and draped neatly across his other arm.
“Sit,” was all he said before he headed toward the footlocker that she knew held his clean rolls of bandages.
The courier glanced between him and the table. The only sound in Angel Cave was that of the gentle breeze that flowed through it, teasing the flames of the few lit torches along the walls. It never ceased to amaze her how absolutely silent Zion Valley could be. In New Vegas, there were always rambunctious, drunken conversations no matter how late it was, or gunfire from Freeside, or the loud domestic disputes that resulted from wives finding their husbands wasting their life savings on a slot machine. Usually, she appreciated the peace and quiet, but now it felt almost oppressive, and she didn’t know why.
She felt awkward and out of place sitting on the table Joshua used to do most of his work, but with her good hand braced on its surface, she hoisted herself up onto it. With her injured arm laying in her lap, Six kept her head down and inspected the lacerations that ran nearly the entire length of her forearm. She was beginning to think she’d rather fall headfirst into an entire pack of nightstalkers than ever cross paths with a yao guai again. She’d survived much worse, sure, but honestly even the gunshots to the head had hurt less.
The dramatic shadows cast by the torches in the cave made the blood smeared across her arm and palms look black. It made her situation seem much more grisly than it was, which, despite the fact that her injury wasn’t life-threatening, made her anxious. She wiped her good hand on a relatively clean part of her shirt and leaned down to grab the lantern that usually sat where she was now, setting it upon the table beside her. Careful not to disturb her wounded arm, she dug Benny’s lighter out of her pocket and lit what little wick the lantern’s candle had left. She wasn’t really sure why she kept the lighter with her even after she’d put Benny down. It wasn’t as though she was lacking something to remember him by—the scars on her forehead were a fine memento.
By now the adrenaline had long since worn off and the pain in her arm that had started as a dull ache was now a horrible, stinging agony that throbbed in time with her heartbeat. The sensation brought Six back from where her mind had wandered off to. She returned the lighter to her pocket and looked up to find Joshua standing before her, a damp rag in one hand and a roll of bandages in the other. She blinked up at him, unsure of how long he'd been standing there looking down at her.
“You’re still with me after all, then.” His voice was soft, barely more than a whisper, as though he was hesitant to break the silence. He held out the damp rag to her, which she took gratefully.
“I told you, I'm alright. I have to lose a little more blood than this before I start getting delusional.” She grinned at him and wiped dried blood from her arm, bringing out trickles of fresh blood as the act dislodged still-soft scabs. She closed her eyes against the pain of the coarse cloth sweeping over the newly opened wounds, opening her eyes again only to make sure she’d cleaned everything off.
“Shit, that stimpak sure didn’t do much for me. I’m gonna need a hell of a lot of stitches, aren’t I?” She dropped her head to her chest and examined the gashes properly now that they were clean. They were deeper than she’d thought initially.
“Yes. These are large wounds... I worry about the possibility of infection.” Joshua stood before her, between her legs, and leaned down with his arms crossed to examine the courier’s arm alongside her. He wasn’t that much taller than she was, but now he seemed to almost tower over her. “It will take some time for you to heal, but you’ll live. He who keeps you will not slumber.”
The last sentence was spoken in what Six had come to recognize as his quoting-the-bible tone. She still didn't believe or understand a lot of things about Joshua's religion, but she tended not to argue with him when he brought it up. She knew he only meant to comfort her or impart some wisdom upon her with the words from his scriptures, so she usually went along with it.
“Of course I’ll live. I mean honestly, at this rate, I don’t know if your god is ever gonna let me die. Fucking yao guai,” she muttered, throwing her head back in an exasperated sigh. His jaw twitched, whether in amusement or annoyance she couldn’t tell.
“Y’know I’ve had to stitch more injuries up than I can count and I’m still shit at it? They’re always either too loose or too uneven. I mean I’m capable of preventing myself from bleeding out, but that’s about it. I actually had a doctor from the Followers take up with me for a while and even he couldn’t help me improve.” There was an ache in her chest as she recalled her time spent traveling the Mojave. She swallowed and continued despite it. “I think I almost gave him a heart attack the first time he saw me attempt to sew myself back together.”
Joshua held perfectly still, watching attentively as she spoke, the way he always did on the rare occasions she freely gave information about herself. That was something about him that she loved, that he was always eager to learn. She smiled helplessly at him and shook her head.
“It would seem you are quite fortunate, then, that I’m somewhat proficient in medical care.”
“I’ve been told I’m a very poor patient, but there should be a suture kit in my bag somewhere if you want to give it a go.” Quieter, she added, “Don’t waste what supplies you have on me. Use mine.”
He ignored her, setting the roll of bandages down, and left her alone at the table once more to rifle through his own belongings. After a moment, he came back to her with a needle and roll of suture in hand. She shook her head and motioned toward her bag at the back of the cave.
The bandages around his mouth shifted into what she had come to recognize as a smile. “Well is it with the man that dealeth graciously and lendeth. Besides, you find yourself in more dangerous situations than I do these days, often at my behest. Please allow me to do this for you.”
Six shook her head again, more fervently this time. It made her so dizzy that she gave up on arguing with him.
“I think you’re being ridiculous, but fine. You win.” She held out her injured arm. Joshua pulled up a chair and sat before her. She had to spread her legs farther to allow him room, and despite the throbbing pain wracking her arm and the lightheadedness that came with blood loss, a flush crept across her face at the sight of him settling between her thighs in the candlelight.
He guided her injured arm to rest against her inner thigh and held it steady with one hand as he gripped the needle with the other. Six was struck by how gentle those dark, scarred fingertips were. She couldn’t bring herself to look away from them.
How many people had he killed with those hands that were now being so gentle with her? She was sure the number had to be higher than she could possibly fathom, which was certainly saying something considering how much blood she had on her own hands. To see him now, carefully holding her as though she’d shatter if he let her slip from his grasp, was almost too much to bear.
The needle was driven through a particularly tender spot and she yelped, grabbing onto his shoulder with her free hand. She curled in on herself until her forehead was almost touching his. His hands paused their ministrations immediately.
“I apologize.” Joshua leaned away just enough to be able to see her face, contorted in pain.
“No, no, I'm sorry. Fuck.” She took a deep, shaky breath and loosened her grip on his shoulder, though she did not remove her hand. She was surprised by how warm he felt. It was rather nice. “Did I hurt you?”
She looked into his eyes and saw them wide in what she assumed was surprise. She was a little caught off guard herself. Other than the occasional brushing of legs when they sat beside one another, she had never really touched him. It certainly wasn’t that she hadn’t wanted to, but she knew his burns still caused him pain more often than not, and she had never wanted to risk hurting him further. She was used to casual physical contact, whether it was a gentle punch on the shoulder from Boone, a quick hug from Veronica, or Dogmeat's wet nose pressed against her leg. Alone in Zion, she found herself sorely missing the affection. She often wondered if, in spite of his pain, Joshua missed physical contact.
He swallowed and cleared his throat. “No, you didn't.”
“Good.”
Joshua’s gaze moved back down to the stitching, then questioningly back up to her face.
“Sorry. You can keep going if you want.” She gave him a sheepish smile and straightened up as best she could. As an afterthought, she reluctantly pulled her hand off his shoulder. “I promise to be a good patient from here on out.”
“You've been a perfect patient, I assure you,” Joshua said seriously.
Maybe she was starting to become delusional from blood loss, because the compliment made her blush.
“I bet you say that to all the girls,” Six teased before she could actually think about what she was saying.
Joshua hummed and flashed her a tender look. “Just this one.”
Sometimes when she was with him, he'd look at her in such a way or say something to her that made her consider abandoning her responsibilities in the Mojave to stay by his side in Zion. This was one of those times, and now they were so close, so alone in the candlelit cave. She had half a mind to close the gap between them and kiss him. But what would be the point in that? With each passing day they were growing closer to their final battle with the White Legs. She'd have to leave the valley and return to New Vegas eventually. It was better that she just swallowed her longing so as not to break her heart when she finally left.
“I'll miss you,” she said, only realizing after she’d spoken how abrupt her words must have seemed to him.
“What do you mean?” Joshua's brow furrowed as he began stitching the last cut on her arm. He worked swiftly, and the stitches he'd already completed were neat and even.
“I mean when my work is done here. When I have to go back to New Vegas. I'll miss you.
“Even now, you're thinking of your departure?” She’d never heard disappointment so clearly in his voice before. “Are you truly so eager to leave?”
“No! No, not at all. I love it here, Joshua, I really do. It's just that…” Six sighed. Before her, Joshua stilled his hands and looked up at her. She wanted so badly to touch him in any way she was allowed. “It's just that you've been so good to me. So good that I worry that leaving Zion will break my heart. And you know how it is when I'm worried about something, I can't help but think about it all the time. So it's not that I want to leave. It's that I don't.” She didn't really mean to pour her heart out like that, and she felt a little like crying, so she just closed her eyes. It seemed easiest.
Slowly, after a few seconds, Joshua resumed his work, not saying a word. Six focused on her breathing as she waited a few long minutes for him to say anything at all. Even as she felt the gentle tug of the final stitch being tied off and heard the scissors snip the thread, Angel Cave was otherwise silent. She began to panic, but still kept her eyes firmly shut. Had she said something wrong? He was silent often, but not like this. This felt different.
“Did I fuck up?” Her shoulders tensed without her permission. Joshua huffed out a breath that was either frustration, amusement, or both. His bandaged hands came to rest on her knees and she shivered.
“Open your eyes. Look at me, please.”
She did. She met his eyes and the gaze she found there was so intense that she didn't think she could look away even if she wanted to.
“You and I both know that you have a purpose to fulfill in the Mojave. I believe that is where the Lord calls you to be… But once your work there is done, I see no reason that you can't come back.”
“But I don’t know what exactly it is that I’ll have to do once I get back there. It seems like I’ll have to be a part of the next battle of Hoover Dam whether I want to or not. What if I’m not the same person when I see you again?”
He shook his head. “I’ll welcome you with open arms regardless.”
“You don’t know that.”
“But I do. Wherever I am, you will always be welcome.” Joshua seemed entirely sure of himself. His tone left no room for argument.
Six felt a lot like crying now, and she gently took his hands in hers, wincing as she moved her tender injured arm. “You see what I mean? You’re so good to me.”
Joshua stood and let go of one of her hands, and for a moment she worried that he was backing away. He quickly put that fear to rest by moving closer so that his chest was nearly flush with hers. He picked up the damp cloth she’d used to clean her arm and gently brought it to her cheek.
“May I?” His voice was low and gravelly. It took her a moment to remember the cut on her cheek, but she nodded immediately anyway.
He gently moved the cloth over the dried blood that trailed down her face, then dabbed gently around the cut, careful not to dislodge any of the blood clots or scabs that kept the wound closed. It stung, and yet Six's eyes fluttered closed and she couldn't help but lean into his touch. He whispered her name and let go of her other hand to cup the side of her face as he finished cleaning the wound. She opened her eyes and hesitantly reached a hand up toward the side of his face.
“Can I?” Her voice was barely audible, as breathless as she was. To her own ears, she sounded pathetic, but Joshua's eyes widened at the sound. He nodded almost imperceptibly and set the cloth down on the table before bringing the same hand back up to rest on her neck, his thumb trailing along her jawline.
Six reached for his face and ran her fingers feather-light over his bandages before resting her palm against them. She searched his eyes for anything telling her to stop and saw nothing but encouragement. She knew then that her heart would not break when she left Zion, because there was no way in hell she could stay gone for long. She'd come back to him, and he'd wait for her.
She didn't know which of them moved first, but suddenly they had met in the middle, her lips pressed to the bandages over his mouth. He made a low, frustrated noise and pulled away. She wrapped her legs around his waist to keep him from going too far, but she realized quickly that it hadn't been necessary. He only pulled away long enough to adjust the bandages obscuring his face, and then his scarred lips were finally on hers. The skin there was softer and much more smooth than she had anticipated. She was delighted.
Her fear of hurting him somewhat dissipated as he leaned some of his weight into her, leaning her back with the force of his kiss. Regrettably, Joshua had to move one of his hands off of her and plant it firmly on the desk to keep himself from crushing her, cautious of her wounded arm. He groaned quietly as she nipped his bottom lip experimentally. She couldn't stop herself from smiling against his mouth, giddy with how deeply affected he was. She'd only known him as someone restrained, someone who never lost himself to emotion. Yet there he was, letting out quiet little pleased sounds as he kissed her until they were both breathless and had to break away for air.
“I know your intention was to make me feel better about having to leave, but you’ve only made me want to stay even more.” Six smiled and finally let her legs drop from around Joshua’s waist.
“I apologize,” Joshua said with a light tone that suggested he wasn't sorry in the slightest. He quickly readjusted his bandages to cover his mouth once more.
Six hummed contentedly and realized how tired she'd suddenly become. With her wound taken care of, the day's excitement behind her, and her heart feeling like it was about to burst with joy, she was more than ready to collapse into her bedroll. She shifted on the table, ready to hop down, but Joshua shook his head.
“Let me bandage your arm, please.”
Six yawned as she nodded.
With deft, practiced movements, he wrapped her forearm in gauze. Again, Six couldn't help but fixate on his gentle hands. A smile spread across her face as she wondered if maybe he'd let her hold his hand sometimes. It might have been a juvenile, silly thing to smile about, but she'd never felt quite like this about anyone before.
Lost in her thoughts, she didn't register that Joshua had finished bandaging her until he stepped back. He offered her a hand, which wasn’t necessary, but she took anyway as she finally hopped down.
“I'd prefer for you to sleep here tonight. Should you begin to show signs of infection, I'd rather you be near the medical supplies.”
On most clear-skied nights, Six would climb as high up the canyon walls as she could and set her bedroll there. Not only did that provide her a clear vantage point should any White Legs find their way into camp, but it also allowed her a beautiful view of the stars. For tonight, though, she supposed she could stay here.
“Alright. I guess I can do that.” Impulsively, she stood up on her tiptoes and pressed one last quick kiss to his cheek. “Goodnight, Joshua.”
He looked back at her with half-lidded eyes as she slipped away to grab her bedroll. “Goodnight.”
Six couldn't stop smiling as she plucked her bedroll from her bag at the back of the cave and laid it out not far from Joshua's table. Exhausted, she practically threw herself onto it, settling on her side with a heavy sigh. From behind her, she could hear the sounds of Joshua packing all of his supplies away. It felt oddly domestic, and her anxiety around leaving the valley had faded entirely, replaced with a warm satisfaction. She would leave Zion one day, yes. But on another, she would come back.