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Anachronism

Summary:

The Vault of the Traveler puts Rhys and Fiona right back where they came from.

More or less.

Notes:

I tried to tag the three relationships that will get most of the spotlight, but at its core this will be a pretty team-oriented piece, so any and all combinations of the four.

A big thanks to @nowrunalong for giving this a read-through and letting me know how well the set up works (or doesn't).

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

Chapter Text

“My eye’s not working.”

Bent double, with her hands braced against her knees and her stomach roiling, Fiona still found the time to look up at Rhys and glare incredulously. “What?”

“My eye,” he repeated, like it was her hearing at fault, and not his own logic. “It’s not connecting to the EchoNet. It says—”

“I feel like I got put through a blender,” Fiona interrupted, “and you’re trying to check your messages?”

“I was running diagnostics! That was…” He frowned. “What was that, anyway?”

“No idea.” Fiona tried to straighten up, but the world spun; she wrenched her eyes shut again and leaned against a nearby rock instead. “We touched the glowy box, and there was a flash, and then—” She mimed an explosion with her hand. “Blender.”

Rhys scratched the back of his head. “Is that supposed to happen?”

“How the hell should I know?”

“You’re the vault hunter.”

“It’s my first vault, all right? Cut me some slack.” She peeked up at him for a second before clasping a hand over her face. “God, my head. How are you fine? I feel like you shouldn’t be fine.”

“I’m not. I told you, my eye won’t connect—”

Fiona’s eyes felt like they might pop out of their sockets from behind. “So not the same, Inspector Gadget.”

“—which is a real shame, because I don’t know where the hell we are. Is this Pandora?”

“Sure smells like it.”

“Then where is… everything? Where’s everyone else?”

For the first time, there was enough alarm in his voice to cut through her irritation. She opened her eyes, squinting around through the dusk light. Her suspicions about Pandora were correct—there was Elpis, shining high and bright in the night sky—but Rhys had a point: there was nothing around them but a field of dirt and rock. Evidence of the battle, their friends, the Traveler and its loot… All of it was gone.

A new feeling of nausea swam through Fiona’s belly.

“Wasn’t it daytime?” With every word Rhys’ voice pitched higher in anxiety. “It was definitely daytime, and now it’s not.”

Fiona’s head pounded, and she could no longer tell if the magic box was at fault. She pushed herself away from the rock, only to realize with a start that it was the base of the stone archway at the mouth of the vault. The top of the arch had crumbled away, but there was nothing on the ground.

She decided to do what she always did with things she didn’t know how to process: package it away and deal with it later.

“Let’s just find the others and see what’s going on.”


“Quite a gate you got there.” Sasha stepped out of her caravan with a bag slung over her shoulders and a nod back towards the structure looming overhead. “Trouble with the neighbors?”

“Something like that.” Vaughn grimaced as he walked to greet her. “Don’t say ‘I told you so’.”

“Well, I did.” She shrugged, and the contents of her bag clanged together. “Pandora’s not an open-doors kind of place.”

“Still. You try to be friendly…” He sighed. There was no use arguing with Sasha about the best way to deal with raids; plenty of people around Helios were already happy to do it for her. Instead, he held out his hand to take her bag, a gesture that was sure to be ignored but felt right anyway. “Thanks for bringing all this, by the way.”

As he’d predicted, her own grip on the bag tightened. “Sounded urgent.” Sasha shrugged again. “Besides, I need that part for the caravan. Thought it might break down on the way here.”

Vaughn rolled his eyes. There was necessary risk, and then there was stupidity. “Why didn’t you tell me that? I could’ve sent a runner to—”

“Don’t start,” she warned, the prickle in her voice enough to fend him off for now. “Where do you want all this, anyway?”

“Supply room.” Vaughn beckoned for her to follow down the labyrinthine hallways. “Come on, we’ve got something I think you’ll like.”


ERROR: Unable to connect to server. Software update required.

ERROR: Software update failed. Please connect to server.

ERROR: Unable to connect to server. Software update required.

Rhys growled in frustration as he rubbed his cybernetic eye with the heel of his hand, a futile gesture that accomplished nothing but at least felt sort of satisfying.

Any attempt to connect to the EchoNet kickstarted an endless chain of recursive error messages. Diagnostics tests were equally unhelpful, and his arm fared no better. Over and over again, dialogue boxes recommended software updates he couldn’t install.

“If you tell me about your eye one more time I’m going to rip it out of the socket myself,” Fiona grumbled, and so Rhys settled for mumbling swear words to himself.

It just didn’t make sense. Rhys had always taken good—well... decent—care of his cybernetics, but in the wake of recent events, he was downright meticulous. Half of what he ran was custom code, and he’d had a lot of time for troubleshooting, stuck on his own for months at the Atlas facility. Everything had been working just fine, even after being dragged through the desert by a well-meaning but misguided robot. So why was it acting up now? He hadn't even done anything. Maybe piloting Gortys had interfered somehow…

“How do we get in again?” Fiona asked. “There’s like, a back way, or something, right?”

Rhys looked up from irritably jabbing at the with the error messages on his palm display. Several feet in front of them was a solid metal gate, fifteen feet high, connected in to the walls of what was once Helios.

“I... thought this was the back way,” he said slowly.

“That doesn’t make any sense,” said Fiona, and Rhys couldn’t argue with that. But she shrugged. “Whatever. You think they got a doorbell, or…?”

She needn’t finish the thought.

“What do you want?” shouted down a voice that ought to have been far more intimidating for the job it was doing. A head appeared at the top of the door, peering down at them from a crude-looking battlement.

“Door-to-door sales,” Fiona called back. “Wanna buy some knives?”

The person at the top of the door didn’t laugh. “Why are you dressed like that?”

“Part of the uniform,” Fiona answered. “You should see what they used to make him wear—”

“Look, we just got a bit turned around after the vault,” Rhys intervened, not interested in spending the night outside because Fiona got into an argument with the doorman. “Can you let us in?”

There was a momentary silence from the top of the gate. “After the… what?”

Beside him, Fiona massaged her temple, her patience fraying. “Oh, for the love of…”

“Uh, the vault?” Rhys repeated, his uneasiness ceding ground to agitation. “Big alien treasure trove? Tons of people involved? Pretty hard to miss. What, was that not your shift or something?”

For another concerning minute, the person at the top of the door was silent. And then they said, “Just… stay there a minute, I’m gonna… get someone,” and disappeared from view.


“Oh my god, you’ve got a Volcano.”

An awed smile stretched across Sasha’s face, the widest Vaughn had seen in such a long time that he felt accomplished for having won it. She dropped her heavy bag onto the floor and reached for the gun, fingers hovering reverently over the barrel before she picked it up.

“Thought you might like it,” said Vaughn, choosing to disregard the smugness he heard in his own voice.

“It’s beautiful,” she cooed. “Where the hell did you get one?”

“Took it off someone in the last raid.”

Sasha snorted. “His loss.” She hoisted the gun to eye level, peering down the scope experimentally. “Man, you could really do some damage with this thing.”

Memories of the smell of burnt flesh came to mind, and Vaughn grimaced. “Yeah, well, he did.” But Vaughn waved away the thought—and Sasha’s look of concern—as quick as it’d come. “So, you want it?”

The frown that had begun to pool on her lips vanished entirely, replaced by surprise. “Huh?”

“I mean, you’re cradling it like a firstborn over here, so I thought…”

A Sasha off her game was as rare a sight as Sasha smiling. Her arms stretched out to return the gun as though of their own accord. “No, I can’t. Why would…?”

“You know our policy.”

“It’s a stupid policy.”

“Besides,” he continued, “you’ll make better use of it. You’re the best shot I know.”

Sasha opened her mouth to argue but caught herself before she made a sound, a familiar cloud passing over her face. She dropped her gaze back to the gun, worrying her bottom lip before she sighed in resignation. “I’ll do another supply run for you. I’ve got a job coming up outside Sanctuary, but after that—”

Vaughn took advantage of her wrong-footedness to clap her on the shoulder. “Dude, just say thanks.”

She looked at the hand on her shoulder before meeting his eyes. “Thanks.”

“There we go,” said Vaughn, and then he laughed. “That part you needed is over here. You sure Janey’s shop didn’t have it?”

Sasha avoided his eyes as she slung the Volcano over her shoulder and pulled her long braids out from under the strap. “I… was heading this way anyway.”

“So that’s an ‘I don’t know, I didn’t ask’,” he reasoned.

“Vaughn,” she grit out, a simple but effective warning.

Perhaps he was pushing his luck a bit.

“Hey, it’s fine, it’s good to see you. It’s been a while.” He cleared his throat and gestured to a box on the middle shelf. “Uh, I think it’s in there. I’m not really sure what it—”

“Got it,” said Sasha near-immediately. “Thanks.”

The device she pulled from the box looked more like a tenth-grade science project than a piece for a functioning vehicle. Vaughn scratched his beard. “You sure that caravan’s still, uh, road safe?”

“Well, it will be, with this and a bit of elbow grease.” Stowing the part away in her inventory, she wiped her hands on her pants. “I should be gone before morning.”

It was what Vaughn had expected her to say, almost down to a script.

“You could stay a few days," he said. "Take a break.”

Sasha’s eyes narrowed impatiently. “Vaughn, we’ve been over this.”

“We’ve got spare beds. Actual beds. I know they’ve gotta be more comfortable than driving around.”

“I sleep just fine,” Sasha insisted. (A little rich, coming from someone whose face was thin and drawn in a way Vaughn recognized as perpetual exhaustion; it was a look he saw in the mirror, often enough.) “And you know this place makes me wanna blow my brains out.” She paused. “Uh, no offense.”

“Not... really sure how to not be offended by that,” said Vaughn. But he was undeterred. “Just stay for the night. We can help you with the caravan tomorrow. Are you hungry? I usually eat around now. We can get you some food—”

“Whoa.” Sasha held up one hand to stop him, the other resting on her hip. “What’s going on? You know I just came here to get the part, why are you being so weird?” Her eyes widened. “Is that why you gave me the gun? Are you trying to guilt me into a sleepover?”

“No! No, that was… just... ”

But he’d floundered, and Sasha was too sharp to let it slide.

“Bullshit.” A threatening crease appeared on her forehead. “You’re trying to butter me up. Why?”

He’d definitely pushed his luck now. “No, no, I was just—”

“Did you even need any of that stuff?” She waved at the bag of supplies sitting on the floor.

“Well… I mean, we always need supplies, so technically... ”

“Vaughn.” They were eye to eye when she stepped forward. “What are you not telling me?”

After everything, Vaughn liked to think he knew Sasha well. Better than just about anybody. So he knew, whatever she might be saying, there was nothing more likely to scare her away right now than honesty.

He wasn’t sure what other choice he had.

“Okay, okay, you’re right, the gun was a bribe and I lied. A little.” He sighed under the heat of her stare, shoulders drooping. “I just… wanted you to be here. Today.”

“Today? Why?” And then the penny dropped. “Oh.” Sasha’s whole posture changed. “Shit.” She stepped back and turned away from him, face hidden behind her long hair. “I didn’t even… I’ve been on the road. I lose track.”

Vaughn doubted the track had been lost so much as it had been purposefully misplaced, but he wasn’t about to correct her. He could dress it up in his head as much as he wanted, pretend he was doing her some act of kindness or charity, but the reality of it was less glamorous. He’d brought her to a place she hated on a day she tried to forget for his own selfish reasons.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly. He looked down at his shoes, the guilt he’d been keeping at bay seeping over the barriers. “I didn’t think you’d come if I told you the truth.”

“I wouldn’t have.”

She turned her head, just enough to see him in her periphery, and Vaughn watched her wrestle with it, her self-preservation versus her pity. Normally, Vaughn would resent being pitied. Today, he’d take what he could get.

Sasha's deliberation ended with a tired sigh, and she turned to face him properly. “I’ll stay for tonight," she conceded. "But I’m leaving tomorrow morning, once I fix up the caravan.”

Though small, Vaughn’s smile was drenched in relief and gratitude. “Thank you.”

“Sure.” She titled her head, all easy nonchalance, but her knuckles were pale where she gripped the strap of her gun. “Now, I think you promised me food?”

Vaughn’s smile grew wider. "Right! Yeah!" That part, thankfully, was easy to deliver on. “You know, we’ve had a bit of luck with the greenhouse, so—” Static buzzed in his ear, interrupting his train of thought as his ECHO comm sprang to life. He raised a hand to answer. “Hello?”

“Uh… hi,” came an anxious voice on the other end of the line. “Can you come to the gate? There’s something going on here I think you should see.”

Vaughn frowned. He looked over at Sasha, watching him with her head tilted curiously. “Kinda busy, can it wait?”

“Um… no,” was the answer. “Sorry, but I really think you should see this.”

Vaughn held back a series of impatient replies and settled for making a face at Sasha. “All right, fine, be there in a minute.” He dropped the call and shrugged at her apologetically. “Sorry, something’s up at the gate, they want me to check it out.”

Sasha raised an eyebrow. “Another raid?”

Vaughn laughed, but it was humourless. “I hope not.” He wrinkled his nose. “And it better not be two skags having sex again, that was not a sound I needed in my brain.”

Unphased by either option, Sasha shrugged. “Well, let’s go check it out.” In one smooth motion, the sniper rifle was in her hands. “I got your back.”


The person at the door had only been gone a minute before Fiona threw her head back and groaned at the sky. “How did Helios stay up there so long with this many idiots running around inside it?”

Rhys decided it was in everyone’s best interest to let that slide.

A breeze rolled through, swirling the top layer of sand like a fine mist. Rhys folded his arms tight, an ineffectual guard against the shiver that shot down his spine. Pandoran evenings weren’t exactly cold, but there was something about standing on the wrong side of an imposing door in the middle of the desert that made the hair on the back of his neck prickle.

“Do you feel weird?” he asked Fiona. “I feel weird. I don’t like this.”

Fiona wasn’t listening. She walked right up to the door and threw herself against it.

It didn’t budge.

Rhys raised his eyebrow. “Really?”

She shrugged. “Worth a shot.”

But she rubbed her shoulder as she stood up again. Craning her neck, she peered up at the top of the door, the gears in her mind turning.

“Give me a boost,” she said after a minute.

He snorted. “How tall do you think I am?”

“Well, do your thing, then,” she said. When he only stared at her blankly, she flailed her right arm about. “Y’know. Your hack-y thing.”

Rhys was agog. “Do you even listen to anything I say?”

“I try not to.”

“I can’t. My—”

A metal clang interrupted him as a panel slid open on the door, just big enough for them to see the masked face on the other side. Rhys’ shoulders tensed instinctively.

He didn’t like masks.

“Okay, what is this?" When they spoke, their voice was hidden too, modulated out of sorts. "A trick? A joke?”

“A joke?” Fiona repeated. “‘Two frauds walk into a vault…’” She pretended to contemplate it. “But what would the punchline be?”

Deciphering any expression behind the mask was impossible.

Fiona flashed a smile destined for sales. “So you gonna let us in, or…?”

Movement overhead drew Rhys’ eye as someone new appeared at the top of the door. He caught a glimpse of long brown hair—and then the muzzle of a very large gun pointed in his direction.

So much for laser pointers.

“Seriously,” the person in the mask was saying, “whatever this is—whatever you’re trying to do here—”

“You mean come in?” said Fiona.

“—this is really not a good day to try me, so—”

“Not a good day to try you? Buddy, we killed a gigantic teleporting monster just to get VIP access to the galaxy’s worst fast travel station.”

Fiona’s false cheer was growing more fraught by the minute, but Rhys was starting to tune her out, distracted by the sniper rifle aimed at his head. If he could just get his stupid eye to work…

“Look, can we just talk to Vaughn, please?” Fiona was asking.

Maybe it couldn’t scan, it could still zoom—

“You must know Vaughn, right?”

The sniper was a woman, Rhys realized. She had a handkerchief around her neck, pulled up over her nose to cover her mouth. The hair on the right side of her head was shaved short, and there was a deep line of concentration on her forehead.

“Short guy, shockingly jacked?”

The sniper tilted her head, staring back at Rhys around the scope. As she did, one earring poked out from behind her handkerchief. His jaw dropped.

“He’s like your mayor or king or something.”

For the second time in less than an hour, Rhys felt like he’d been tossed into a cosmic blender.

“Just find him and tell him that—”

He reached forward blindly, fumbling for Fiona without taking his eyes off the sniper.

“Fi,” Rhys managed hoarsely. “Fi, look…”

His fingertips brushed the leather of her sleeve, and Fiona turned to him. “What?” She followed the direction of his stare, but her angle was wrong, and without the augmented eye, she couldn’t see the sniper like Rhys could. “What’s got you all weird?”

Rhys didn’t know how to answer her, but his voice had stopped working anyway. With what felt like a monumental effort, he looked from the sniper to the person in the mask. His eye couldn't scan them properly, and he couldn't see more of them than the mask, but Rhys knew with sudden certainty who was on the other side of the door.

“Rhys?” Fiona gave his arm a rough tug, gripping his sleeve. Jarringly and uncharacteristic, a note of panic had finally crept into Fiona’s voice. “Someone tell me what’s going on, right now.”

“That’s what I’d like to know,” said the modulated voice—and then the mask came off, and sure enough there was Vaughn, more lines on his face than Rhys had ever seen. “Where the hell have you two been for the last twelve years?”