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Max stared into the fire, watching the crackling flames dance around each other in the cool night. The Dead Horses had mostly retired to sleep, but a few stayed awake, observing the courier out of the corners of their eyes.
Max's hand went to his pack, skimming over ammo boxes and scrap metal until he found a familiar bottle of pills. Buffout. His only escape from his mind.
He took the bottle out and recounted the pills. 12. Enough for 2 more days. He would have to try and find more soon, lest his withdrawals start to kick in. He put the bottle back in his pack, and stared back into the fire once more.
This was the 3rd time he had done this action in the last hour, Joshua noted. He had been standing at the mouth of Angel Cave for some time, watching the courier. He knew an addict when he saw one. And he knew a Legionnaire. A strange combination, he noted, considering Caesar's ruthlessness when it came to chems or addicts.
Joshua had questions. The courier had answers. That was all it took for the burned man to walk over to the fire and sit down to the left of Max.
"A fine evening." Joshua spoke, his deep voice rumbling through the night. Max did not look up from the fire. "suppose so." he responded, fingers digging into the dirt absently.
Max didn't particularly enjoy Joshua's company. He knew the legends of the burned man from Lucius and Vulpes' brief mentions of him. He knew the burned man was an enemy of Caesar. He knew this was wrong, to acknowledge the man instead of putting a bullet through his brain. Or maybe a machete, Max conceded. He wasn't much use with a gun.
"That Mark." Joshua began, glancing over at the courier. "It is the mark of Caesar. Tell me." he turned himself to fully face the courier. "What is your stance with the Legion?"
Max tensed. This was a fine wire to walk on. A wrong word could potentially cause his death. "what's it to you?" he challenged, finally looking up to face the Malpais Legate. He wasn't one to back down in the face of danger. If he was, Caesar would have ordered his death long ago. No, he wouldn't go down without a fight.
Joshua could recognise the bite in the courier's voice. He clearly wasn't unintelligent, despite his Chem-addled brain. But despite the face the courier was presenting, Joshua could hear something else laced in the courier's words. Fear.
"It is simply of interest to me. Don't worry. I won't kill you like I did the rest of those Caesar sent after me. No. You are of… value." Joshua replied, blue eyes boring into the courier's brown ones.
This was clearly the wrong thing to say, as with those words, Max froze. A familiar scene replayed itself in his mind.
"don't worry. I won't have you lashed to a cross like the rest of these degenerates."
He swallowed. While Vulpes had spoken the truth, Max's obedience in that instance had led to him being tangled up in a war. Tangled up in the Legion. Tangled up with Caesar.
"I won't answer your questions, Legate." Max snarled, whipping his head around to stare into the fire once more.
Joshua was taken aback by the courier's sharp response. He had clearly struck a nerve, though how, he did not know. He decided to change the subject.
"Buffout is a hard addiction to kick, Courier. How you have survived this long in Zion without a supply surprises me." Max tensed once more. "I know the recipe. It isn't hard to make with the right shit." he paused, as if unsure if he should continue. "it's easier to find it in Zion."
Joshua blinked. This man would continue to surprise him, it seemed. "... That's worrying. What are those ingredients? I would hate for the Dead Horses to find them accidentally."
Max scoffed. " It's not my problem. Besides, you'll fuckin' try and get rid of them to make me sober up. Nice try, Le-" he paused. "... Joshua." He reached back into his pack, and grabbed the Buffout container again. Counting, eyes racing over the small white pills, mouthing along with the numbers in his head.
Joshua glared at the courier. Not because of the implication on him, because he was somewhat correct in that sense. But the fact he would disregard an entire tribe to simply… become addicts, relient on chems, was something only a Legionnaire would be OK with doing, Joshua surmised.
"So Caesar is OK with your addiction then?" he found himself saying. Max whipped his head around, eyes narrowed. "don't speak of the mighty Caesar, Burned Man. You lost that right after Hoover Dam." he snarled, staring down the Malpais Legate.
Joshua sneered. "You can't tell me who to speak of. I knew Edw- Caesar before you were old enough to walk." Max did not back down. "And how'd that turn out?" he retaliated, smirking.
By now the Dead Horses still awake weren't trying to hide the fact they were watching. Eyes darting back and forth like they were watching a tennis match, tense and uncertain on whether they should step in.
Joshua stood up, drawing himself to full height. "You tell me not to speak of Caesar, yet you mock events you do not understand. 'Judge not lest ye be judged.'"
Max growled, getting up as well. "Shut up. Don't fucking quote your religious brahmin- shit at me. You defend your actions with that book of yours, and then fuckin' claim to not be a coward?" Max's hands began to shake, and he reached into his pack to grab the container of Buffout.
Joshua, however, was faster than the withdrawing courier, snatching up the pack despite its weight. "I'm the coward, courier? Then why can't you face me without being drugged?" Max snarled and attempted to grab the bag. "SHUT UP!" he yelled, any attempt at being calm abandoned. "FUCKING- GIVE ME THE BOTTLE!!" he screeched, lunging for it.
Joshua, being taller, dropped the pack and held the bottle over his head, much like a child. "No. How do you expect to be a warrior of the Legion when you can't function without pills?" he mocked, eyes staring down, unsympathetic.
Max stopped. His entire body was shaking, from the exertion and the withdrawal. Collapsing down into himself, he buried his head in his arms. He hated letting this part of himself out. The weak, vulnerable side he covered up with chems and weapons.
"You don't- I need- I- I…" he stuttered out, gasping for breath between each word. A panic attack, he realised. He hadn't had one in so long. Hands reaching for his hair, pulling, scratching, clawing. Any attempt to get oxygen to his brain. To try and calm down.
Joshua, realising what was happening, stopped his childish behaviour and dropped down beside the courier. "Max." he said, speaking the courier's name for the first time. "Breathe through your nose. That's it." Joshua was never good at comfort, but days spent helping Daniel had helped him with that.
Max nodded, or at least tried to, and managed to calm his brain somewhat. As soon as he could breathe again, he flopped down onto his back, tears streaming down his face.
He reached over into his bag, pulling out a bottle of vodka, and before Joshua could even realise what was happening, he had chugged half of it.
Joshua took the bottle once he had come to his senses, staring at the courier, who's eyes were beginning to look unfocused. "I'm sorry.." Max whispered, curling in on himself.
Joshua looked over at the Dead Horses, who were staring, horrified and confused. He motioned for them to head to sleep, and the obliged, eyes never leaving the scene in front of them until they had walked out of sight.
Max sat up, watching Joshua intently, before he spoke again, slurred. "Caesar only lets me be a junkie… b'cause 'm important." he mumbled. "... Got shot 'n the head… 'n now I gotta platinum chip and dumb fuckin' luck…" he let out a choked sob. "He knows I'm weak. He knows I'll stay if he's nice… if he praises me…… if he makes me feel special…"
Joshua simply listened. He remembered hearing a saying, a long time ago, 'a drunk man's words are a sober man's thoughts.' this seemed accurate right now.
Max continued, gesticulating as he spoke. "He calls me 'mportant…. Gives me work…. He doesn't care that I'm worthless. That I'm a fake." Max said, eyes cast downwards.
Joshua frowned. "a fake what?" he asked, sitting down properly beside the courier. The man was speaking in riddles, despite being drunk.
"I'm… I'm not a real man… well I 'm… but not t' others…" he whispered.
Joshua wasn't an idiot. Transgender people existed a long time ago, and he even knew of some people from before Hoover Dam. Caesar had hated them, called them slurs, killed him or crucified them for being dishonest. Why would he give this man a pass? "Do you know why he… accepts you?" Joshua asked tentatively.
Max froze, biting his lip. "He… he likes how I look. How I feel." he whispered, curling in on himself.
Joshua felt sick. This man was not a soldier of the Legion. He was a tool, in Caesar's sick game. Which, as he had just found out, was a lot worse than he had first thought. "Don't tell me.. He…"
Max nodded. "It's why 'm allowed in the Legion. Why I can be a junkie and a disgusting dishonest-"
Joshua put a hand on the courier's shoulder. "You are not. You need guidance. And I will give it to you. Caesar is using you. He is a manipulative person, and he is using you because of your vulnerabilities. I will help you get back on track."
Max nodded as Joshua spoke, seemingly complaint, then stood up sharply, eyes fierce, the spell broken."NO!" he yelled, glaring daggers at Joshua. "Caesar isn't hurting me! He's giving me a chance in return for… a favour. He… he never made me say yes. Shut up, Legate! You know nothing."
Joshua made to try and console the courier, but he grabbed his pack and stormed off, inebriated and withdrawing. He would get himself killed, but he would probably attack Joshua if he went after the courier.
Joshua simply watched the man go, and turned around to head back into Angel Cave. The fire had long since died out, leaving a smoldering pile of ashes. Joshua looked at the fire pit, before shaking his head and going to get some sleep.
Days later, Daniel would visit Joshua. Tell him about the courier who had handed a Sorrow a recipe on a sheet of paper, and then left. Told him how this recipe was similar to an old world chem, but the name couldn't come to him. Joshua would glare into the skyline, and tell Daniel to burn the paper.
Even later, Daniel would come sprinting into the Dead Horses Encampment, furious. Explain how the courier had promised to help him, then taken the map of the Grand Staircase, gotten a Sorrow to explain it to him, and left.
Joshua knew these events were somewhat his fault. But the courier couldn't be without blame. And when news came of the victory at Hoover Dam, he was not surprised. Max, if nothing else, was stubborn. He fought with everything until he was victorious. Even if it was himself.
No more news of Max travelled across the Mojave, even with the reintroduction of caravan traders. Things were quiet, at least for a while.
Then a figure appeared at the mouth of Angel Cave. Joshua pretended not to see the man, machete in hand. He would not let this man best him.
That's why he was surprised when Max disappeared again, seemingly back to the Mojave. Until the Yao Guai left the caves.
Until the white legs' war totems disappeared.
Until the traps were gone from North Fork Bridge.
Until he returned to the Narrows, and left with Waking Cloud, saying he needed help. Daniel was too shocked to argue. And so Joshua watched. Waited.
Until it was time for Max to pay.