Ace.

Eight of clubs.

"Shit." Lawrence cursed when she turned over the second card. Bitter smoke evaporated as he reached through the cloud for the neck of the bottle.

"Dealer wins!" The dealer gathered her chips across the table then the cards. Stools rotated. One player left only to be replaced by another. Lawrence had been at the table for some time waiting for Vincent. Not that he was complaining.

"Place your bets," she instructed. Lawrence glanced at his pile. Fifty caps worth remained from eighty. His chips had fluctuated wildly. Only five minutes ago he had 120, but every stroke of luck faltered. Surely Vincent wouldn't mind. He had practically thrown the caps at Lawrence to occupy himself while Vincent discussed "things" with Mr. House.

He set twenty chips in the felt circle. Cards flung with an expert flick of a wrist, rounding the half-circle and landing just before their recipients' hands. A smirk pulled his lips when he saw a king as his next card. The table creaked under the stranger leaning on the glossy trim next to him.

"Winning or losing?"

"Mord? That you?" Lawrence glanced at the man, but the mystery card lured his gaze back to the table.

Ace.

"Congratulations!" The dealer cheered. "Forty caps to the gentleman."

"What are you doing here?"Lawrence asked, turning back to the man. A new goatee framed Mordecai's mouth. New lines around his eyes deepened when he returned Lawrence's grin. Even his eyes seemed to have change since they last saw each other.

"Just so happened to be looking for you," he said as both watched the dealer slide Lawrence's winnings across the felt. It was a colorful, but short stack of chips. "Can we talk? In private."

Two cold and swarthy long-necked bottles clinked before being drained into the only two men at the bar. None would know the two were experienced rangers unless they were eavesdropping on the nostalgia tinted laughs recalling older days that were only good because they had survived them. Yet from the look of his friend's face, there was more to this visit.

"You always drink so early?"

"Only when you're around," Lawrence rebutted.

Mordecai scoffed. "Well, get used to it. Rest of us are coming up from Baja. Just made it here myself a week ago."

"What took you so long? Get lost?"

"Hey." Mordecai shook his head. "Last time I listened to your directions I wound in the middle of a Legion training squad."

"Nah, nah, nah." Lawrence wagged a finger and shook his head. Mordecai did just the opposite. "You just suck at following directions. That's why you always needed a babysitter to come along."

Mordecai wrapped his hand around the neck of a half-empty bottle while one finger poked Lawrence's shoulder. "I've been hearing some stories about you too."

"What kind of stories?"

"Well…" His shoulders broadened as Mordecai straightened his hunch. He leaned against the bar top, taking a discreet survey of the mostly empty gambling floor. "I heard you been inside the Lucky 38."

"I have," Lawrence noted, retrieving the carton of cigarettes from his breast pocket. He jerked the case and a loose stick sprung up. "What of it?"

"Brass wanted me to talk you about it," he explained, finally sitting on the bar stool he avoided. "Thought you'd be more open if I was the one asking questions."

"You said the quiet part out loud." The distinctive click of his lighter ignited a flame under the cigarette. Smoke clouded the space between them, left by a vacuum as Lawrence leaned away.

"They want information," Mordecai confirmed. Nostalgic smiles faded, leaving behind an awkward curl of his lip as if caught between sobriety and juvenile laughs. "On House and whoever that kid is you've been with."

Lawrence's nostrils flared, pushing out heavy streams of gray. "What do they know about Vincent?"

"You've been seen with him," Mordecai shrugged and a hand waved to his next bit of evidence. "Going in that tower, then something about McCarran for a passport, and I just got word about Nelson— Congrats on that by the way." An approving pat on the shoulder eroded Mordecai's seriousness. "It would help prove to the tops you're ready to get back in the field," Mordecai added.

"Spyin' on him?" A quizzical expression twisted Lawrence's face. "He ain't up to trouble. Just one of House's people. Contractor."

"It's all for the better," Mordecai added. "NCR doesn't trust House."

Lawrence knew that much. Hell, anyone with two brain-cells to rub together could figure that out. It would only be a matter of time until House wanted full control of his territory again. Now, he could enforce that claim with the securitrons Vincent activated. But would the NCR fight back?And even if they wanted to, should they? Flesh and blood soldiers against an onslaught of machines—it would be a massacre. Lawrence took a long draw, yet the rush and smoke tingling his tongue did little to ease his nerves. He silently cursed at himself for not predicting something like this would have happened. If the Legion wanted to get to Vincent, so would the NCR. All because of House. All because of the dam. And Vincent was caught in the middle of it. That boy had no idea what he was in for.

And now, Lawrence managed to plant himself in the middle of it like a splinter.

He looked at Mordecai, but his gazed wandered over his shoulder. His stomach dropped, twisting on its descent. Of course, Vincent had finished whatever business with House just in time for this. He carried his head a little higher than usual. Something changed about him since the Fort, but Lawrence could only hope it wasn't the Mojave's bad habit of building you up only to spit you out into the steep canyon the Colorado ran through. Not unlike those slots he reminded himself to stay away from.

Mordecai followed Lawrence's gaze behind him. He whipped his head back around. "That… him?"

"Yes."

"Huh." A quick turn stole another glance "How old is he? Lil' small and girly." A laugh accompanied his observation. "I don't think the NCR had anything to worry—."

"Get lost."

"What?"

"Go."

Vincent paused catching Lawrence's heated tone. He questioned whether he should join the ranger or stay back, but the stranger turning away made that decision for him. Mordecai's glare settled on Vincent as he passed. Reflexively, Vincent returned a critical eye to the stranger.

"What was that about?"

Lawrence's taut expression loosened but the lines between his brows hadn't smoothed over. "He was an old friend of mine."

"Was?"

Lawrence reached for the boy, running nails through his thick mane. Chestnut waves licked about his fingers. Strands nearly bleached blonde by the sun shimmered as they bent and curled back to their proper position. Lawrence's hand slid down to Vincent's cheek. He smiled warmly at the ranger, and with that, Lawrence closed the gap between them with a kiss.

"Are you trying to quiet me?" Vincent whispered. Their lips lingered together, caressed by gentle breath.

Guilt stabbed Lawrence like any knife, but this one twisted where the rest would pull out. "Just a little."

"Too bad because I got to tell you about what House wants me to do now." Sarcasm tinted Vincent's voice as he rolled his head from one shoulder to another. "What do you know about Nellis Air Force Base?"

Lawrence's smile thinned. His eyes glossed over, vacantly staring off at nothing as he pondered how he got into this situation. "Enough that it's not somewhere you wanna go." Lawrence snuffed his cigarette. A long column of ash burned through it before he realized he had only a few puffs off the thing.

"House thinks those people occupying the base can be a threat or an ally."

"They're whackos."

"So, I've been told," Vincent said dryly. "If we can get them on our side, that's more firepower against the Legion."

"How are you gonna get them on your side?" Lively hands accented the man's dramatic tone. "They'd blow up a passin' tumble-weed if it got in their territory."

"By convincing them that the Legion is a threat to them as well. We'll form an alliance and if my plan is going to work, they will need me." Vincent crossed his arms. It was his indomitable display of assuredness that once seen, Lawrence knew he couldn't dissuade. Lawrence pressed a palm to his face, a muffled sigh barely escaped between his fingers. "You don't have to come if you don't want to."

Lawrence dragged his hand down, tapering brows and tugging eyelids. "You know damn well I'm going with you."

—

Vincent wondered which was hotter; the road shimmering beneath a mirage or the sun-bleached, wind sanded rock they were perched on. The sun crept into their shade by noon. While the simple tent they set up did good to keep the sun out, it didn't shelter from steamy winds. Lawrence lay on his stomach, ditching most of his clothing earlier in their reconnaissance.

His back glistened with gathering sweat beads. The shine highlighted the pleasing arcs and dips formed by dense musculature Vincent had no reservations ogling now. Streams seeped down the sides of his head, dampening his hair to spikes where each tip collected sparkling droplets. Somewhat jealous that he couldn't do the same, Vincent settled for rolling up the legs of his pants. Eventually though, the heat had gotten the better of him. He caved, removing the ratty vest for the solace of a breeze through the loose undershirt. Lawrence's curious glance at his activities was short lived.

"Ought to get you a new vest," Lawrence suggested. "Something more tactical and thicker." He got caught up in his words, overthinking the implication and quickly stammered out, "only cause the danger you tend to draw. Safety n' all. Y'know."

"I draw danger?"

"Like a magnet."

With another sigh, Lawrence shifted his position. He must have scoured the whole base by now. So far, neither came up with any solution. The Boomers—that's what everyone called them because it was the only sound they were known to make—would attack any on sight. It didn't help they managed to hold themselves up in a military base stocked to the brim with full munitions. Some argued they were more trigger happy than the Legion…. Older folks say they moved in some fifty years ago, long before Vegas's second coming. Quickly, word spread about them, since any scavenging the old base were blown to bits. Now, people keep their distance, for the most part. Lately though, the Boomers' reach spread. Nellis's old residential area sitting outside the base was now a part of their firing range as evident by the huge craters littering the suburbs. More signage sprung up on the roads, warning anyone foolish or brave enough to enter.

Lawrence groaned and turned onto his back. The long stroked in his notebook signaled he switched to drawing. Vincent's bored gaze peeked at the paper but soon was wandering elsewhere again. It was hard not to travel the contours of Lawrence's neck. The way his muscles flexed demanded attention to their strong curves. His prominent Adam's apple made Vincent's knees weak. His pillowy chest, coated with little shorts hairs combed out from the center crease could carry Vincent off into erotic dreams. Vincent didn't stop himself from tracing a finger down Lawrence's side. "See anything interesting?"

"Down there or up here?" Lawrence glanced over the pocketbook and winked."Still thinkin'. I'll let you know when I got an idea."

Three hangars stood next to long runway strips. Observation towers loomed over the encroaching wilderness to the north and the concrete wilderness of New Vegas south. Craters dotted the surrounding land within strict parameters. Binoculars offered a more personal glimpse to the dated base, but the people reduced to just little blots forced to dance through the heat mirage were still a mystery.

The ranger mumbling to himself seconds before the pocketbook lowered for good this time. "I'm sorry, Vincent, I can't conceive of any way of gettin' in there without riskin' our asses gettin' blown to the next century."

Vincent pursed lips as he squinted to the distant airfield. "What if we gave them some kind of offering?"

"Like a peace offering?"

Vincent turned to Lawrence. His budding smile beaming with inspiration. "Something to show them we mean no harm."

"It's a start, but how we gonna get it to them?" He nodded towards the southside of the base where the main highway ended. The grid pattern of streets still shown through the cratered surface. "Their artillery can reach that far out."

A howl funneled through the valley mountains when the breeze picked up. Whistling. Taunting the two and never gracing them with a cool flush. Vincent's shoulders slumped as he was lost in his own thoughts, defeated before he ever spoke them aloud.

"Even at night we still risk them seeing us. Once we hear those rockets launch it will be too late—" Lawrence paused. "If we can get stealth-boys, they can mask us from just about any pre-war tech they would definitely have in there."

"What are stealth-boys?"

"Small things, very rare," Lawrence explained, "they disrupt radar fields, so you aren't detected. They also have some weird tricks they play on the eyes and make you appear practically invisible. But—" Vincent hated when that word snuck in. "They're hard to come by. Maybe I can try and shake a requisition officer or two and get us some."

"Ok, let's say we have them, and we get inside, then what?"

"Then we can use your idea and soften the blow that we're trespassin' but—" Lawrence's tone went into the cautious territory Vincent knew was coming. "Either way, we're going to put ourselves in a bad situation."

By early evening, the two had found themselves at Camp Golf. It was only one stop in search of stealth-boys and the first because it was close. Lawrence anticipated he would have to do some convincing, but if Golf's requisition officer didn't help then they would move on to McCarran, and so on. The mission of stealth-boys was Lawrence's task, which he reiterated to the boy he left on the shores of Lake Las Vegas, and who had better be there when he returned.

Rangers and their support personnel were stationed inside the big house, the resort lodge that already came installed with infrastructure and some mildewy furnishings. He was surprised he still knew the layout, and that everything was still mostly the same. Even some of the people were the same. He had to stay low, however, come up with some excuses or reasons he was skulking about the hallways to those familiar faces wanting to catch up and asking when he was coming back. After the third time he heard that question, he began to get a little flustered and wondered how many people knew about his leave and why he was forced in it.

Which was why he was dreading going into the mess hall.

"Don't suppose you came to your senses."

Lawrence's steps paused. He wasn't even three steps inside the dining hall when he heard Mordecai's voice. The man sat at a table in the company of a few other rangers and an evening meal. Lawrence didn't recognize the strangers and was grateful for that. Mordecai, however, was not someone he wanted to see here. It took Lawrence some willpower to not answer him with a snarky remark as petty revenge for their previous meeting.

"That is why you're here, yeah?"

Lawrence loosened the scowl he had forgot he was wearing. "Actually, yeah, I'm here about that." He slipped into the seat across from Mordecai. "I have a problem, so I need something, otherwise I won't have the information you need."

"Oh?" Mordecai's brows furrowed. He sat up from his slouch, finally finding something interesting in the most boring camp in the Mojave. "You could have given me a warning. I really thought you were pissed at me the other day."

Lawrence chuckled, "sorry about that. It's just… He likes me. Looks up to me. I saved him from a deathclaw the first time we met, so he can be a little clingy."

"A deathclaw?" Mordecai muttered.

"I can tell you some things," Lawrence glanced at the others lost in their own conversations, still he hushed his words, "but I need stealth-boys."

"What for?" Mordecai squinted at Lawrence then to what he hoped was mashed potatoes being raked under his fork.

"Boomer territory."

The fork clapped the metal tray. "Oh, boy."

"I think House is testing the kid. Last time he sent him off to the Fort." Lawrence shook his head as he recalled a memory with more holes in it than a mole rat range. "Something about chasing down that chairman who disappeared, but—"

"Benny?" Mordecai pushed the tray out of his way and leaned in. "I heard about something about a guy missing on the radio. Was he important?"

"He was House's prior lackey," Lawrence said. "Vincent was supposed to recover some information or evidence he was going to sell to Caesar."

"So House isn't working with the Legion?"

"No," Lawrence shook his head. "I wasn't there at the Fort, but from what Vincent told me House is gonna keep looking neutral to the Legion."

"Wait—" Mordecai held up a hand. "What does this have to do with the Boomers?"

"Leverage."

"That's crazy!" He croaked. "How does he expect to—"

"Stealth-boys." Lawrence reminded him. "I don't know enough about this just yet to give you a clear picture. We need the stealth-boys to get on their base for some up-close-and-personal espionage."

"Alright…"

Half-truths and half-lies were his friends growing up and somehow those same friends he thought he could evade managed to keep on finding him where he least expected it. The roles of a ranger were varied. They could be the law of the republic. Highly skilled operatives that ventured into dangerous territory for a specified mission. Mostly, rangers gathered information because that was necessary no matter what their primary objective was. He was never involved with espionage and in-the-weeds spying like some of the most skilled rangers, but they didn't worry about whether they were doing the right thing—spying on the Legion was never a question of morality.

The innate evil of the enemy was something Lawrence realized he had taken for granted as a younger man. It was crutch. A crutch of every soldier and ranger that upheld their responsibilities, and another elusive thing he was beginning to think of as complacency. It could also be blindness to the republic's failings… Whatever it was, his knew his crutch was crumbling, and betting on Mr. House's plan was a huge gamble.

Insect noise chirped in the dark. New members joined the small symphony as the breeze picked up, counting the temperature in whistling squeaks. Warm even as close as they were to the lake in their tent for the night. The ranger had been unusually solemn since he returned to their hidden lakeside camp. Vincent chalked it up to planning, but even the boy's playful gestures couldn't disturb Lawrence's thoughtful silence.

Vincent inched closer to him and turned on his side. He found Lawrence's hand in the dark and wiggled a finger into his palm to test the waters. Lawrence must've read his mind because entwined his fingers through Vincent's.

"Something on your mind?" Vincent whispered.

"Yes," Lawrence returned the looked for the boy in the dark of a starless night, finding only a faint outline illuminated by short-lived breaks in the clouds. "The man I was arguin' with… He's a ranger. Friend of mine. He came to me with an offer from up top."

"Oh…" Vincent muttered. "Getting back into action?"

"That too," he admitted. "Brass has always been suspicious of House, but now you've come along and muddied things up." His chuckle was weak. One of those that sought to ease tension before that tension was even revealed. "They want me to spy on you."

"Oh."

"I fed some bullshit to Mordecai, so we'd get the stealth-boys."

"I don't want to get you into trouble, but you're telling me this…"

"I don't want to lie to you." Lawrence squeezed Vincent's hand. "And because of everything you shared with me, I think that shows how much trust you have with me."

"I take it you've been thinking more about what I've told you?"

"I have."

"I won't ask you to throw away your career," Vincent's whisper cracked. He swallowed the knot tangling in his throat. At least it was dark too, otherwise he'd have to hide his face.

"I don't know if what I'm doing is right," Lawrence added. "If anything, I've learned there's no easy answer, and… There's a lot to think about."

"I won't fault you for whatever you cho—"

"Never mind it all." Lawrence draped his arm over Vincent's form. Fingertips rustled the boy's hair. "I rather get you hot 'n bothered with stories of skinwalkers."

Vincent rolled his eyes and chuckled. But Lawrence's warmth didn't make Vincent forget his dilemma. The ranger had a difficult decision. All because of that boy he found on the side of the road. With the prospects though… Vincent hoped the ranger would stay.