At the End of the Road

Chapter 2

Sunrise over the Mojave had been curiously peaceful, for all of the desert's dangers; the gentle morning light caressing the cacti showed no hint of the burning midday sun it would soon become. Sunrise over Zion was as breathtaking as deep canyons and clear rivers, proving Joshua right when he called the land sacred. Sunrise over the Big Empty was as cold and sterile as any of its robotic masters (well, perhaps rather more sterile than Dala). Sunrise over the Madre was nonexistent, the Cloud blocking out all sense of day and night. Over the Divide, though, the sun burned an angry red past the storm winds, staining the sky as crimson as a Legion banner; a reminder to all foolish visitors that, if this place were alive, it would be furious.

Trust Ulysses to set up in a land with a flair for the fucking dramatic, Jane thought as she sat watch on the cliff top, cradling her rifle. Behind her, she heard the slight rustle of movement as Ulysses stirred. He had slept much as she had, huddled against the cliff face, Old Glory within easy reach; the universal sleeping posture of couriers who walked rough and dangerous roads. Good sign, at least, if he trusted her enough to let himself rest around her.

"Still here, Courier?"

He seemed almost surprised, as if he'd half-expected her to steal away during the night and return to the Mojave. Man still harboured an obstinate belief that he was fated to be forgotten here, no matter how many times she returned. She smirked back at him.

"Ain't gettin' rid of me that easy, my man."

He snorted, but still came up to sit next to her on the rocks, one muscular arm resting on his leg as he gazed up at the sunrise. He was close enough that their knees almost touched, and she found herself very aware of this fact even as her eyes remained fixed on the burning sky above.

"Something brings you back here, Courier." His voice was low, his gaze curious. "Don't yet know the name of it. Thought at first you came to see the scars you left on the land here, bear the weight of your actions; same reason I stay. Not so sure, now. Haven't walked the Courier's Mile a second time."

"Never too early in the morning for tough questions with you, is it? But you're right, that ain't why I'm here," Jane replied, casting weary eyes downward over the blasted wreckage of Hopeville, the twisted steel and shattered concrete. The sun had cleared the horizon now, the red just beginning to fade from the sky. "Don't need to come back here to remember what happened. It's too burned into my mind. Doubt I could forget it if I tried."

"Carry your actions with you, then, like one of your deliveries. Long memory, not like the Bear you serve." He paused. "Know your habits, too, from when you first led me here. Not like you, to stay in one place once your job is finished. This time, something in you keeps you from straying too far, sets you on the road home again and again. Must have some motive for coming here. Want to know the why of it."

Fucking hell, she wasn't even glancing at him and she could still feel his eyes boring into the side of her head.

"Don't quite know how to put it," she said slowly, chancing a look at him.

It was a bad idea. His intense gaze combined with his closeness to make the moment feel almost intimate. Jane felt heat spread over her cheeks, and prayed he wouldn't notice in the poor light.

Shit. Shit. Shit. Why the hell is he so curious, anyway?

Hell, this was probably some kind of cosmic retribution for asking half the Mojave uncomfortable personal questions. She steeled herself.