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Keeping this damn town safe is one of the only things that keeps Boone still moving. Still getting up and ready in the late night, preparing for his shift. The same town that ended up being the death of Carla. She always said she wanted to move back to the city. Maybe Boone should have listened. Somehow, though, he still thinks fate would have caught up to him there too.
Fighting back a deeper scowl than the one already on his face, Boone focuses down his scope towards Nelson. Nothing but a raider has crossed in days, with the NCR barricade down there and all, but that doesn't stop his trigger finger from itching. Damn slavers need shot. Would be better if they just crossed into Boone's path.
That, however, isn't the only place he should be watching. So Boone twists and checks back towards REPCONN. No movement there either. Not even a tumble weed. It's like the whole Mojave is holding it's breath. Waiting. It's the same kind of feeling that Boone used to get when on a mission. Normally right before the Legion discovered where the snipers are hiding. Always made for a sticky situation at least.
Resigning himself to a tense night, wrapped in nothing but silence and memories, Boone points his gun back at Nelson. Only to find something actually moving in the distance.
The woman has hair so bleached by the sun it's practically white. It's a beacon in the darkness, making it easy for Boone to line up his rifle, just in case. Yet she does nothing but slowly stumble her way down the road. Her leg isn't in a brace, but the way she walks says it's broken. Poor girl's probably just trying to find a doctor. Boone almost shifts his scope away from her, already planning on letting her pass.
Except then she stops, looking off at the distance. Following her gaze, Boone finds only the distant lights of New Vegas on the horizon. Yet that's not what makes him pause. No, the look on her face is. While his scope blurs it, the expression is impossible to mistake. The same one greets Boone every morning in his cracked mirror. A thirst for revenge.
Boone watches her until she passes under the dinosaur. If he strains his ears enough he can hear her ragged breathing as she goes by. Only his sense of duty keeps him from looking at her again. Boone can't help but think that the world will shake under that woman's feet one day. He hopes she gets out of his town before then.
Yet when his shift ends, he can't help but glance across the fence to the medical tent. There she sits, hair nearly blending in with the dirty tarps. He looks for a little too long, she lifts up her head. Boone holds her gaze for a long moment, before heading back to his room. He's tired, and Manny will be out in a few minutes.
Still, he has a feeling this isn't the last time he'll see that woman around. Strangers tend to pass through Novac, but a stranger doesn't look at someone like that. Besides, she's looking for something.
A full five days pass. Boone's almost forgotten about the woman who stumbled in town under darkness, except for the rumors flitting around. She's become a town hero, clearing out the REOCONN facility. The new man who came to live in the hotel, Chris, even says good things about her. Apparently she's got a tongue of silver, and a flirtatious attitude to match. Boone can't quite match that up with the expression he saw that night.
Seems she's left town though. No one's seen hide nor hair of her in almost two days now. She probably finally found what - or who - she was looking for. Doesn't matter for Boone though. She's gone, and he still has a slaver to track down. That is, if he had any leads in the first place.
Boone's still peeking out the mouth when someone taps on his shoulder. Cursing loudly, he rounds on the stranger.
"God dammit! Don't sneak up on me like that!"
The woman puts her hands in the air, leaning against the now closed door. Despite the gun Boone holds in his hands, she looks completely at ease. Her own rifle sits slung across her back for easy draw. Up close her hair is closer to blonde, a shade of platinum made even lighter from the sun. A pair of glasses sit on her face, the only clean thing she's wearing.
"Sorry. Just wanted to see the other sniper here. Name's Moon," She says. Moon doesn't extend a hand, either not thinking to do so or just believing that Boone wouldn't accept it. He isn't sure which answer he'd prefer.
"You've seen me. Now go away."
"No. I want to know more about your wife."
Boone tightens his grip on the barrel of his service rifle. He knew it would be easy for someone to find out about Carla, half the town was still talking about it. The gossip mill doesn't stop.
"I want to help." Moon lifts her chin slightly. Defiant, and familiar. A piece of the Old World lives in her. Not the beauty and glitz of New Vegas, not like Boone's wife. No. It's something harder. A defiance that pre-war books used to say made the now dead America.
A shiver goes down Boone's spine, despite the heat of the desert.
"How will you help? If a gun alone could fix this, I would have done it already," Boone growls, wondering if he can just kick her off the side of the dinosaur. Then he pauses, an idea flashing through his head.
"Wait. You're new in town. Maybe that's just what I need."
Boone could still remember the screaming. Could remember the children crying and people begging in this pass. Maybe that's why having his gun now feels so right. Why mowing down Legionaries before they could even get to the camp felt so good. Bullets keep flying close, but none quite hit. He's sure one will soon. Fate finally pulled up his ticket.
Some part of his mind drifted back to Moon. To the look she gave him when he said the Legion was coming. Boone isn't quite sure where she is now. Probably tearing through people, making swiss cheese out of them with her gun. The Courier she was hasn't effected the sniper she's become. Hopefully she'll be fine. She's not the one that needs to pay for his crimes.
The shooting finally stops, and it takes Boone a moment to register the pain in his side. Blood flows down his shirt, soaking into the ground below him. Figures it wouldn't be quick. If he was lucky, Moon won't find him dead. She always got too emotional when finding people too late. Something about the doctor in her. Always wants to save people.
It's just his luck that she finds him still alive instead.
"Boone!"
Hands press him down, making him lay on his back. Normally he's resist something like this, but Moon's face then comes into his slowly blurring vision.
She looks like an angel of death. Red beret against white hair, blood spattered across the leather along her chest. Her glasses are askew, a crack down one of the lenses. He fights the urge to reach up and fix them.
"Dammit of course you're already giving up, you stupid motherfucker! Like hell I'm letting you die yet," She yells, much louder than she needs to be with how close she is. Boone barely has time to register what's happening before she's sticking her fingers in the bullet wound.
His vision goes white. Moon didn't even bother giving him med-x, likely too frenzied or too angry to care. Boone feels every moment of her extracting the bullet. All the while she cusses him out.
Finally she decides to dose him up. Moon mutters something about how the side of a cliff is unsanitary. Every so slowly, proper awareness starts coming back to the sniper.
"I was ready to die," He mutters.
"I know."
"So why stop it?"
"Because you need to move on. You can't blame yourself for following orders, and I'll be crucified before I let you sacrifice yourself because of your guilt. You're my partner, Boone, and that means being here for me too. I don't want you forgetting that, you hear?"
Her words fall between them, silent among the cliffs. Moon's face is flushed, from anger and.... Something else. Boone has to force himself to look away. They don't speak again the whole time Moon works on Boone's wound.
Boone tells himself to not worry about her as he waits with the dog in the penthouse. To not think about what shape Moon will be in when she gets back. It's only been two months. The caravan said it would be a while. Moon will come back, several thousand caps richer, speaking of the wonders of New Canaan. She told him to wait, so Boone will.
He still finds it hard to just sit there doing nothing. Rex is only enough entertainment for a while, and Boone can't bring himself to go out into the Strip. A few times he went down to the bar for some drinks, but nothing felt right. Too quiet, even with the radios. They're missing a certain voice, singing along mostly out of key.
Scowling, Boone lights a cigarette. The whole place already smells of smoke, what's one more?
Rex, who was lying by Boone's feet, suddenly pops his head up. Used to the eccentricities of the robo-dog, Boone doesn't react at first. Rex tears off into the hallway, barking excitedly. It's not until the elevator door squeaks open does Boone also realize why.
He's up and out of his seat in seconds. Laughter floats from the hall as Rex continues to go crazy. The cigarette is left in an ashtray, forgotten.
Moon's skin is darker, tanned from the sun. Her outfit is different too, some sort of police vest instead of the normal leather armor. Her glasses had been exchanged for a pair of shades, hiding her eyes from view.
Yet the beret is the only thing that stayed the same. Still perched on her sun bleached hair, First Recon symbol still perfectly polished. Like she didn't want to forget.
"Well," Moon interrupts his staring,"Am I getting a hug, Craigy boy?"
Snorting slightly, Boone leans against the door. "I don't know. Was kinda peaceful without you charging into stupid fights."
"Name one time that actually happened."
"The Boomers."
Pause.
"Sometimes I hate you. You know that Boone? Hate."
"Keep telling yourself that, Courier."
"Fuck off, Sniper." Moon flips him off.
Then she goes and takes a hug from him anyway.
The rest of the night consists of her telling him of Zion. Of the beauty, and of the tribes. If Boone notices how she quiets when talking about a certain Joshua Graham, he doesn't say a word. Instead he just watches her face. Looks at how her eyes light up when talking about the trees. 'Real green trees Boone, are you too stupid to see how amazing that is?'
Maybe Boone was. He just thought something currently in front of him was more amazing. For the first time, he lets himself acknowledge that he missed her. That next time Moon does this, he wants to be with her. To protect her. They're partners, after all.
Moon had taken the first watch. She just wanted to find out about the transmission, and they'd been traveling for days. ED-E was hovering over him as Boone went to sleep, Moon sitting on an old busted car nearby. When he woke up, she was gone.
The panic had taken over first, and Boone spent weeks searching for her. When nothing appeared, he went and got Rex to sniff out the area. Nothing. It was like Moon just vanished into thin air.
It had taken almost two months before he went back to Novac. People looked twice whenever he walked by. Manny quite literally stopped in his tracks when he spotted Boone. He opened his mouth, as if to say something, but Boone interrupts him.
"I'm taking back over my shift. I'll be out at midnight."
Then he walks back into his old room. No one rented it out, not with Jeannie mysteriously dead in front of the dinosaur. So just like that, life went back to as it was before Moon even arrived.
Except it didn't. He'd wake up with nightmares and would reach out, something he never did with Carla, only to find nothing. Boone sent Rex and ED-E home, so there was no whirring of robotic parts or pants of an animal to greet him either. Just silence, and memories. That, and a new ache in his chest that never seems to go away.
Why was he even back here? Even alone, Boone could take down so many Legionaries. If he would just go out and do it. Except he can't, no matter how hard he tries. He knows Moon would find him here. Would check back at his old home for him. He could almost imagine what sarcastic reply she'll come up when they next move out.
But then three months pass. Then a fourth. Fifth. Sixth. Moon's never been gone this long. Has never let something get her in her way like this. Something is wrong, and yet he can't find her. Can't help her. Useless as always.
It's midday. Boone can see the sunlight that filters between the boarded up windows through his eyelids. The reason why he's awake, though, eludes him. No sound is made in the room. Something still prickles at the back of Boone's neck.
Finally deciding to check, and satisfy his paranoia, Boone opens his eyes.
Right by the door stands Moon.
She gives him this glassy eyed look, like she can't quite believe what she's seeing. Shadows line her eyes, and already Boone can see a set of new scars peeking out from under the recon armor she's wearing. The way she stands is wrong. More timid. Hesitant in a way Moon never behaves.
Any words Boone has die in his throat as he looks at her. Everything was a mess, muddy and bloody. Burn marks told him she went against the business end of an energy weapon, and her armor took the brunt. This time her skin was paler. She looked like a ghost.
She reaches into a bag and pulls out something red.
"I stopped wearing the beret for a while. I didn't want it damaged," Moon says, the lack of explanation evident. Boone knows better than to pry, so he finds something else to focus on.
"Damaged? Get in a few too many close calls without a spotter?"
Moon shifts forward upon hearing his voice. She's falling forwards before Boone can think, and he barely manages to catch her before she hits the floor. A strangled noise escapes Moon as he pulls her up into the bed, yet she clings to his arms. Clings to him.
"It hurt to look at," She gasps, burying her face in his chest, "I was starting to think I'd never get out."
Unable to help himself, Boone pulls Moon closer. The position is familiar, brings back an memory of when Boone used to do the same thing with another woman. A different woman. Softer. It takes more to break Moon than it took to break Carla. Maybe that's why Boone had given up on saving her. He wouldn't make the same mistake twice.
Carefully maneuvering her, Boone starts looking for any injuries along his courier's body. It echoes something both of them used to do late at night, after setting up camps. A way to make sure both of them were still alright. Almost as if on autopilot, Moon falls back into the old routine. Boone grabs her wrist with one hand as the other carefully slips off the top layer of her armor.
"I've been in Novac for a while. I'm fine. Hold still," He says, trying to not count how many new scars he can already see. Just how close she came to death, so many times.
What has him freezing though is the obviously surgical slice down the center of her chest. Her undershirt covers most of it, but Boone unconsciously brushes along the edge. Moon flinches slightly, then shifts so he can see her back.
He finds one more slice. It starts all the way up her head, hair hiding most of it, and cuts all the way down her back. The sight of it is sickening. The shudders Moon gives when Boone touches them is worse.
"They.... They took me apart. They took me apart, and I spared them. I don't know how, but I spared them." Her voice is hardly more than a wisp. Boone unconsciously balls his hands into fists, then forces them to relax.
Pulling her back into a sitting position, Boone tugs Moon's undershirt down to properly cover her. Then, before he can think better of it, he reaches over and takes the beret. Moon's fingers reach for it for a moment, grasping into air. Yet she gets oh so still when Boone carefully repositions it back onto her head. Just like that she looks so much closer to normal.
"There," Boone says, "Don't want you forgetting we're partners."
Moon lets out a fragile little hiccup, and then she yanks him into a tight hug. The surprise stops Boone from responding immediately. Turns out that hugging isn't the only surprise though. Moon tilts his head down, hand curling around his own beret, and kisses him.
It takes him less time to react to that. Pressing his courier close, as if that will keep her from ever being hurt again, he kisses back.
Over the course of the next several days, that first desperate meeting of lips turns out to not be the last. Boone can't make himself to want it to stop. So he doesn't. Let fate damn him again. At least for a bit, Boone wants to be happy. Moon wants to be happy. That's all that matters.