Julie and the King.

She wished there was more that she could do, but Julie had no history or knowledge of fabled cyberdogs, so it was the best she could do to comfort both the beast and the King when he came by on routine visits.  Today, however, when he walked through the gates Rex was not as his side, and the doctor's heart sank.

"Oh no," she said, then noticed that the black-haired man looked slightly happy.  Utterly confused, Julie approached him.  Though they both dressed in white, the pair couldn't have looked more odd together, with her in the polished white doctor's coat, mohawk perched on her head, he with a cool black coif and professional-looking jacket.  The King's hands were in his pockets.

"Where's Rex?" she said pointedly.

"That Courier? Took him up to Jacobstown for me."  The doctor in that secluded village would be the only one able to save the dog, if he indeed could be saved.  Julie unfolded her arms, a smile breaking out over her face to match the Kings.  

"That's great!" The Courier was indeed an odd one, but at least a helpful one, for this she'd been thankful, and now it appeared the stranger was helping the King as well.  The enthusiastic man nodded.  "I know, I was just stoppin' by to see if you had any news about the--"

What it was he wanted to find out, Julie would never know, because as he amiably walked towards her, the doors to the fort opened, and an out of breath Follower came in, stooped over.  The woman was out of breath and had ran a far distance.  Now she moved her arm from her side to reveal a stab wound, and Julie gasped, several others running forward to support the woman.  The King stood by, surprised.  

"The shipment--" the girl gasped, faltering.  

"Oh no!" Julie said, followed by the King's "What?"

She turned to the de facto ruler of Freeside, unsure how to explain quickly.  "We had a huge supply of chems, we bought from a traveling merchant and they were supposed to be shipped here....."

"It's being stolen, there's still a chance to get it back, right outside of Freeside," she gasped.

"Fiends?" Julie guessed. No one would be on the prowl more than the loathesome chem addicts, who frequented the area outside of Freeside to loot whatever they could from unexpecting travelers--caps, chems, food, whatever they could get--but if they'd attacked a group of Followers plus the traveling merchant, they must be getting more and more bold in their endeavors.  

The girl nodded, and two doctors led her away to their tent, the prepared camp making way for the hurt girl.  Julie signaled to the Followers guards, eight of which piled up in front of the entrance.  "We've got to go help," she said with a tight throat.  "We spent every penny we had on that supply and it'll last us for months.  Not to mention our people are out there."  

The guards nodded, and the large door swung open.  Julie bit her lip, conflicted; she couldn't stand by idly waiting for the guards to return.  She was after all in charge of this camp, and there was nothing for her to do with the girl who had already been stabbed . She was being taken care of.  Just as she made up her mind and began to run after the group, she felt a tug on her elbow, and turned.  It was the King.  Surprised, she'd forgotten about him, and now he said, still holding her elbow,  "Doncha think it may not be the best place for a doctor out there? Fiends ain't no prize."

Admittedly, it had been awhile since Julie ventured out of the Freeside; she rarely had need to, once she got this promotion it was a daunting task taking care of the crumbling city and there was simply no time for excursions whether for business or pleasure.  Still, she could hold her own in the desert, had for many years, especially her younger days before the Followers. Julie paused, pulling away from his protective grasp.

"They need all the help they can get," she said decidedly, "And I'm not a damsel in distress."

The King shrugged, nonplussed at her defensiveness, and then said in a practical tone with his drawl, "Just don't want to risk somebody so important to Freeside."

She paused again at this, unsure of how to respond, and then ran out of the Fort.  

The King watched her go for a moment, put his hands back in his pockets, then shook his head at his own conscience.  "Dammit," he said to no one, and jogged out after the woman in white.



______________________________________________________________________



Minutes later, the King skidded to a stop in the desert, steps behind the mohawk-donning doctor.  Both of them froze, intaking the situation.  Brahmin lay slain, bags of chems strewn about.  Some Followers were still engaged in gunfights and bullets whizzed past the King's head as the Fiends exchanged fire.  Many lay dead.  Julie wailed, the guards that she'd brought now moving in to cover for her while they pulled out their own guns.  

The King didn't know many of the guards well, didn't know the travelers at all, but at least ten total people were on the ground, lifeless.  He pulled out his own pistol, not reluctant at all, and assisted the guards, moving forward to pull Julie up by the shoulder.  Over the shouts and gunfire he yelled, "We gotta get those chems back up and outta here!" They weren't far from Freeside's entrance, and the group of his own men who usually lumbered around the front door had taken up chase warily when they saw their leader shoot out of the entrance after the Followers.  The King motioned to them and they understood his wordless request: get the chems.

The loot was in shoddily taped cardboard boxes, several of which had already been opened by the Fiends, more taken away from them.  The King caught several feathered heads fleeing toward the large, broken looming interstate, and he shot, bringing three down with three shots.  As the other Kings stepped past him to grab boxes and flee, pulling their own pistols hastily, Julie stood, hand over her mouth in horror.  Her eyes scanned the carnage, looking for anyone left alive, but no one was.  

"This is terrible," she said, and the King jerked his head back to the doorway.  More and more of the despicable Fiends approached, growing less cautious as there were obviously more of them than the few guards the Followers had to spare, and he once again took Julie by the crook of her elbow.  

"Can we please just get you the hell outta this?" There was nothing to be done for the dead, but her blue eyes filled with tears, and though he wanted to allow the woman to grieve, he would've preferred she grieve behind the nice strong walls of the Old Mormon Fort.  

"We have to see if anyone's still alive," she protested.  "I won't leave them out here to die!"

He couldn't help but roll his eyes dramatically when the big-hearted woman pranced away, stooping to inspect corpses, still shaking her head at the carnage, muttering about the horrors of chem addiction.  The King ducked another bullet, stooping to his knees like Julie and took down another two approaching fiends even as yet another of his men approached and grabbed one of the cardboard boxes.

"Boss?" the younger man said nervously, trying to juggle his gun while holding the box.  The King waved his hand.  "Don't worry about me, just get the goods back to the Fort!" He wished Pacer were here; no one had the finesse of a handgun quite like his right-hand man, and Pacer could be convinced to help him drag helper Julie back to safety and her senses.  It wasn't something the King wanted to attempt on his own.

At Julie's cry of "I'm coming!" he snapped out of his thoughts and back into the situation at hand where the Followers surgeon had found someone indeed alive.  Fifteen feet away in the tall grass, a struggling teenager lay, shot in the stomach.  He was on his back and couldn't right himself, grimacing at the wound.  Julie moved, ducking, toward him.

"Julie!" the King yelped in his accent--the boy was a Fiend, a large headdress perched on his greasy hair, dark circles already under his young eyes.  At Julie's approach, he tried even harder to get to his feet.  Now she was trying to comfort him, holding her hands out palm up to try and convince him of her benevolence.  

"Leave him!" the King snapped wildly, fearful for Julie the closer she got to the chem addicted mongrel.  "Don't try to save him!"

"I have to!" she called back.  "Please, just help!" She was now by the young man's side, trying hard as possible to take him by the shoulder but he floundered away, frightened for his life.  The King muttered a very foul word.  He wanted to leave the trash here to die, but Julie would lug him back to the Fort even if it meant dodging the whole array of Fiends to come.  What's worse, she wasn't armed.   Reminding himself to never chase a woman out of the boundaries of his city again, the King ran up to help.  Together they lifted the young man partially up, until he was on his knees.

He was yelling, incoherently, possibly not even in English.  The boy was so drugged up that the King could almost smell the stench of chems in his flesh, and suddenly the teenager struck out, swinging his fist at Julie.  He was unsuccessful in his attempt, as the dexterous woman dodged backward, but then he swung again and she blocked the attempt with her fist, reeling backwards.  Now the King let go of his arm and moved to instead pull Julie away, raising his handgun.

The Fiend boy had pulled out a crude knife, which he stuck forward, aiming straight for Julie.  However, the white jacket was suddenly there, protecting her, and the King grunted as the short blade stuck into his stomach.  Julie gasped, moving to catch him as he fell, but now the King's handgun was pointed directly at the boy's head.  Just as he moved to stumble away from the pair, a bullet from the King's pistol tore his skull in half.

"You and your--"  he stumbled, pressing a hand to the jacket, feeling a ripping pain in his side that extended up to his chest.  

"Let's go," she responded, second thoughting saving anyone but the fellow white-coat, and the King pressed the handgun-wielding hand to his side now as she took the other, running back with him through the now diminished gunfire.  The doctor paused, looking back at the now many wounded, and then bit her lip.  The King was still muttering curses in his charming voice, but was all too happy to let her drag him away, back to Freeside.  

______________________________________________________________________

Hours later, the chaos had worn down, the Kings and Followers finishing up the fight and running the Fiends away from what was left of the chem supply, the wounded brought back to the Fort.  Everyone had been tended to, and the big desert sun finally gave up the fight and sank down below the horizon, dusk settling on Vegas and its surrounding areas.  

The King's wound wasn't deep, wasn't dangerous, but it hurt all the same, and Julie had given him a heavy dose of painkillers that knocked him out for a few hours, mostly to ensure he stayed in one spot long enough to get stitched up.  Several of the Kings loitered around the Fort, and Pacer had even stopped by after hearing about the ruckus.  He looked in on the dozing King ruefully, and seemed highly upset with Julie for allowing his leader to leave Freeside and get himself stabbed over something that nothing to do with the Kings as a group.  After insomuch as voicing his trepidations, Pacer left, Julie assuring him the man would be back sometime in the night or early morning.

Now dinner was being served, what little of it there was, and Julie had skipped the meal to make a once-around, tending to the weary and wounded.  The last tent she poked her head in was that of the King's--not wanting others to gawk at the fact that a celebrity was recovering, she'd requested Arcade turn over his research tent for the bleeding man, to which the blond shrugged and promised to keep an eye on him while going over papers.   Had things not been so hectic, he may have batted his eyelashes at Julie and thanked her for bringing one of the most handsome men in the Mojave into his tent, but alas, no such jest was made, and Arcade's bright eyes only glanced towards the King when he turned or grumbled in his medicine-induced sleep.

Julie had stitched him up herself, feeling immeasurably guilty for the stab wound, had taken his white coat and black undershirt and immediately ordered them washed and dried.  In the meantime she bandaged him and fussed before Arcade pushed her out himself, reminding her that he too was a doctor and could take care of things if they went awry.  So now when  he saw the mohawk poke through the entrance, he rose and stretched.

"Your boyfriend's almost awake," he said.  "Chems have been wearing off.  I'll leave you two alone while I go eat a delicious meal of hopefully something more filling than Sugar Bombs. Mmmm."  His voice was thick with sarcasm as he moved past her, and Julie realized she was blushing at the word 'boyfriend.'  There was no truth in this, of course, but then she was rarely given a spare second to think of such matters, especially with a chaotic day like today.

She turned and he was there, laying on Arcade's cot, and he was awake.  The King smirked at her, and Julie realized her heart had skipped a beat when she met his eyes.  Now, taking the chair Arcade had at his terminal and almost tripping over it as she set it in front of the bed, she tried to calm her stomach nerves and slide back into doctor mode as she plopped down.  

"How are you feeling?"

"Drugged up, thanks to you," he replied thickly, and underneath the blanket that covered part of his chest, he gingerly poked the wound.  "Also, feeling stabbed, thanks to you."

He was grinning still, but her expression turned to miserable.  "I am so, so sorry--"

"Nobody's dead," he interrupted, waving a hand dismissively.  "But next time," now he wagged a finger at her and sat up painfully, swatting her away as she tried to get him to lie back down.  Now he propped himself up with an elbow, face to face with her, and leaned in.  "Next time you tell me 'King, I'm not a damsel in distress' ......" he pointed to his stomach.  "I'm gonna remind you of this."

"So be it." She smiled, embarrassed, and folded her hands on her knees.

"And I guess that makes me what, Knight in Shining Armor? White Knight? How does the story go?"

"Make it a King in Shining Armor," she joked, and he nodded approvingly.

"It'll work.  Now about my reward..."

"Thank you so much for what you and your men did," she'd been practicing this all day, "We are low on supplies right now but anything you need, we'll find it for you, I promise..."

"I don't mean that." The King was looking pointedly at her, and she paused for a moment to focus on the slightly flared nostrils, the dark brow, the playful half-smile perched on his face.  Julie was so enraptured that she didn't notice herself moving slightly forward on the seat, and didn't notice the way he was looking at her--slightly humored, as always, but more intently.  

"Then...what?" she asked cluelessly, as he moved closer.  The King was peering at her round, watery blue eyes.  She was a sensitive soul, not unlike himself, but this woman seemed to have an aura of goodness about her. This was undisputed throughout Freeside, and as the King was revered for his strong recognition for respect--he both commanded it and exuded it, so was she for kindness and sympathy.  They were both wonderful qualities that added to her quirkiness, and before he realized what he was doing, he stroked her cheek thoughtfully.

Julie sucked in her breath, feeling both vulnerable and excited.  She had no time for fleeting personal endeavors, had no want to balance yet another thing on her too-full plate, despite what had happened despised ever feeling like a damsel (especially one in distress) yet here was the kindhearted King, propped up and eyeing her keenly, and she certainly felt like a damsel.  His gaze was fixed, and he seemed to forget that she'd just asked him a question.

Still with that boyish, almost dumbfounded look on his face, and her with a completely awestruck gaze, he drew closer as did she, and their lips brushed.   Julie's immediate thought was Julie seriously what the fuck are you doing you can't do this, this is the King in Freeside and you but then he brought his hand up to lay his palm against her cheek, kissing her with slightly less hesitation, though it was still a slow and almost reluctant touching of lips.  It seemed both of them were quite afraid of what was happening, but then his velvet tongue crossed her lower lip, and she bristled, leaning in closer excitedly and opening up to his bolder move.

Then Arcade walked in the tent, chatting with Emily about "...the robotics engineering of, oh my god ew," he finished lamely, Julie spinning around in the seat as Arcade backed out slowly, hands up in a defeated gesture.  "Don't let me stop you, please," he said in a pained way, almost stepping over the confused Emily as he reversed.  Just like that, he was gone, and Julie turned back around to face the King.

He didn't even mind, in fact he laughed that too-charming laugh, and then brushed a hand through his hair awkwardly.  "Not a lotta' privacy in a tent, I guess," he noted with forced humor, and Julie couldn't help but to smile, unsure what to say next.

As it turns out, she didn't have to, because Arcade had second-thoughted and poked his head back in the tent.  "Please not on my cot, I'll pay for a hotel at the Wrangler if you must, but.....not on my cot."

"Go away!" Julie said, fed up, and Arcade smiled charmingly before ducking back out of the tent.

"Asshole," Julie muttered after him, and the King scoffed from behind her.  She could feel her ears turning red.  She had no intention of sitting in Arcade's living space and unabashedly locking lips with Freeside's regalities. She stood, the King tilting an eyebrow up at her, and she hurriedly explained, "I'll go get your coat."

"Alrighty," he said nonchalantly, laying on the bed on his back and threading his fingers behind his head.   When Julie left the tent, still blushing and avoiding Arcade's eyes at all costs, his boyish half-smile turned into a full fledged grin.