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It had been eighteen months since the notorious Courier had waltzed into the Followers’ camp and talked Arcade into coming along with him. Eighteen months since he left his research behind and began following the reckless idiot. Though, that barely did the Courier justice. Trigger happy, stupidly short tempered, charismatic twat was a more accurate description. Eighteen months since he realized that the smooth talker had pulled him into an entirely new life, one filled with intrigue, political scandal, and blood. Lots of blood.
Eighteen months since he first heard the name Cecil Murdock.
It had been twelve months since the Courier had tracked down the fucker that tried to kill him and gave him his just desserts. Twelve months since they had strutted confidently into the Tops Casino, the Courier’s helmet hiding their face from any and all patrons aside from himself and Arcade. Twelve months since he had used his ridiculous charisma to talk Benny Gecko into a room alone with him and Arcade and shot him in the head with the same gun the wannabe gangster had pulled on him execution style. Twelve months since Mr. New Vegas’ report of the death, to which the Courier cracked open a bottle of whiskey and drank to.
Twelve months since Arcade saw a side of Cecil he had never seen before.
It had been ten months since they had begun living in the Lucky 38 Casino, the two of them as well as the rest of the Courier’s merry band of misfits. Twelve months since both the New California Republic and Caesar’s Legion had taken notice to the Courier that had forced his way into the scheme of things and had begun pulling strings. Ten months since they all had become famous in the Strip and Freeside, attracting all sorts of attention from anyone who recognized the Courier’s now famed helmet and riot gear.
Ten months since Arcade had first felt that pang of jealousy.
It had been seven months since Arcade pieced together the true nature of his feelings towards the Courier. Seven months since his long talk with Boone about the nature of feelings on the rooftop of an old building in Freeside over several bottles of whiskey. Seven months since he realized he wanted to hold the Courier in a way no other could, to give him all of the love and praise that the charismatic man could handle.
Seven months since Arcade realized he was in love.
It had been six months since the Courier had approached Arcade about being more than just friends. Six months since the awkward shuffling of feet, the stuttering over his words, the tentative smile on his lips as he asked Arcade on a date. Six months since he had said yes a little too quickly, causing the Courier to laugh and him to flush out of embarrassment. To which he was assured that it was not meant to be something to be ashamed of. Six months since they had laughed over a secluded table in Gomorrah, Arcade poking fun at him for choosing such a weird venue for a first date and the Courier had retorted that they were there for the food and not the hookers.
Six months since their relationship had really begun.
It had been five months since the Courier confessed that he was trans. Five months since the intense kissing session that had led to more and more clothes being pulled off, more and more skin being revealed. Five months since the Courier pulled away from Arcade and stepped back, an embarrassed shade of red darkening his freckled cheeks as he began to explain himself in a tentative tone of voice, one that no one would have expected from Courier Six. Five months since Arcade had smiled at him and assured him that he didn’t love him any less, despite the fact that the Courier used to have breasts and that he didn’t tell him sooner.
Five months since they first made love, albeit differently than Arcade originally planned.
Three months since Arcade had come forward about his past involvements with the Enclave. About his parents, his mother, his father’s armor. Everything. Three months since the Courier had dropped everything they were doing to listen to him, and the look he gave Arcade saying more than his words ever could. Three months since they had dropped all ruses and shared all secrets, coming clean about everything they had been hiding. Three months since Arcade had begun helping the Courier with his Med-X addiction, trying to help him stay healthier and not take so many of those since they clog up your arteries, you fucking idiot.
Three months since they began to truly trust each other.
It had been one month since the second battle for Hoover Dam. One month since the Courier put Yes Man in Mr. House’s place and took over New Vegas for himself. One month since New Vegas was officially declared independent from both the NCR and the Legion. One month since the Legion had officially declared him an enemy. One month since his victory.
One month since the waters of the dam ran red with blood.
It had been three weeks since the Courier began disappearing in the night. Three weeks since Veronica had brought it up to Arcade in private while the Courier argued with Raul over something meaningless. Three weeks since Arcade had followed the Courier to Hoover Dam and found him digging graves for the ones who had died during the battle, NCR and Legion soldiers alike. Three weeks since he had broken down in Arcade’s arms and told him about the nightmares keeping him up every night, telling him that burying them is the only way to make it stop. Three weeks since Arcade had helped him bury the remaining bodies and mourned in silence for the lives lost over the dam.
Three weeks since he had seen Cecil break.
It had been one week since the Courier had first heard reports on the radio of the remaining Legion soldiers ransacking and attacking people in Freeside. One week since he had left to talk to the King about protecting the citizens, regardless of whether or not they were NCR. One week since the Courier had begun to worry that they were going to target his friends or, more importantly, the one he loved. One week since Cecil told Arcade he wanted to be with him for the rest of his life.
One week since he asked Arcade to marry him.
It had been five days since Veronica had been shot by the last Legion soldiers. Five days since she had run down to the Crimson Caravan for more stimpacks, since Raul kept shooting himself in the foot on drunken nights in the Lucky 38. Five days since one of the Kings had slammed open the doors to the casino and dragged the Courier down to Freeside, where Veronica was being treated by Julie Fawkes and the Followers. Five days since the Legion had made their message clear.
Five days since the first shot was fired.
It had been one day since the Courier ran down to the Crimson Caravan himself, desperately after a set of rings. One day since he realized what was to come, and that he had to act fast. One day since he had talked the King into “legally” marrying Arcade and the Courier. One day since they had publicly declared their love in front of the Followers, a few select friends, and whatever Kings had been mulling around the School of Impersonation at the time. One day since Lily had congratulated them on their marriage and baked them burnt cookies to celebrate.
One day since Cecil and Arcade had been truly happy.
It had been one hour since the Courier had snuck out of the casino without any of his friends noticing. One hour since he fired three shots in the air with a pistol given to him by a close friend he knew he would never see again. One hour since he last thought about Joshua Graham and his whereabouts. One hour since the Legions had met his call and stood against him in the streets of Freeside, near the Strip’s gates.
One hour since Arcade had been awoken by the shots.
It had been thirty minutes since the Courier’s companions had jolted awake and realized his absence. Thirty minutes since they darted down to the Strip’s gates, becoming wide awake despite it being four thirty in the morning. Thirty minutes since they had begun frantically calling the Courier’s name and asking anyone sober enough on the streets where he had gone. Thirty minutes since the Securitrons gave them a direct answer and they burst through the gate to Freeside.
Thirty minutes since the bullets tore through Cecil’s chest.
It had been ten minutes since the last of the Legions had been slaughtered. Ten minutes since the companions had screamed and threw themselves at the false Romans. Ten minutes since ED-E and Rex had launched themselves at the Legions closest to the Courier’s fallen body, keeping them as far away from him as they could. Ten minutes since Lily had picked one up and thrown him against a dumpster, denting the metal significantly and breaking his spine. Ten minutes since Raul and Boone had opened fire on anyone in the Roman gear, forming a protective bullet shield with Veronica and Cass.
Ten minutes since Arcade had dropped to Cecil’s side and rammed a stimpack in his side.
It had been five minutes since the last of the Legions were killed. Five minutes since the companions began watching in tense silence as Arcade desperately tried to stop the bleeding. Five minutes since they had heard the Courier chuckle and grab Arcade’s hands, stopping him and looking into his watery eyes. Five minutes since he told him there was nothing he could do.
Five minutes since Cecil, and most of his companions, lost hope.
Four minutes since Arcade had shouted that he would never give up on him, that he loved him.
Three minutes since Arcade’s sobs began causing him to shake, and Cecil had weakly pulled off his now iconic helmet to properly look Arcade in the eye.
Two minutes since Cecil had said he loved him, too, in a weak and fading voice.
One minute since Cecil had smiled and looked at Arcade’s eyes one last time before looking up at the myriad of stars above them.
Thirty seconds since he tried to speak again.
Twenty seconds since he gave his last breath.
Ten seconds since Arcade gently cupped his face.
Five seconds since the companions lowered their heads.
Four seconds since Arcade’s tears had begun to fall on his lifeless face.
Three seconds since Rex nudged Cecil’s limp hand.
Two seconds since the realization set in.
One second since Arcade’s world ended.
Zero.