Hi there! Feel free to skip this little beginning section here, but below is a little bit of an anecdote of what this story is and all that author note stuff.

This story is something I've wanted to write for a long time. Writing slipped away from me as I started college, but in order to keep myself sane, I started writing this story long hand. It's been a long time since I've written anything; and an even longer time since I've written something that I'm happy with.

With the Fallout 4 trailer finally released, I've made the choice to tell the story of my Courier Six and a face to face experience with the Sierra Madre. Dead Money was an amazing story for me, and I know for many of you as well, so I hope you enjoy what I have to write and the relationships I create.

I will be updating this story, not exactly on a fit schedule. While I hope to release at a steady pace, my muse for writing Six is an interesting one that comes in waves.

I hope you enjoy what I write! Feel free to let me know if you do!

The Presidential Suite of the Lucky 38 was humming with quiet chatter. The companions of Courier Six gathered around the dining table, Rex strewn across Veronica's feet.

"She's been gone two week. She's never been gone for two week." Veronica, the ex-Brotherhood girl spoke.

"She's never been gone two weeks without one of us with her." Arcade, occupying his wandering mind with tinkering with the radio, said without lifting his gaze from the arrangement of silver parts.

"She's gotta' be alright. She always is." Rose of Sharon Cassidy kept staring at her bottle of whiskey, quickly pouring another gulp down her throat. She grimaced, but eventually it reached her stomach.

No one dared to ask Boone what he thought on the matter. The sniper remained stoic, a lit cigarette dangling from his lips, cleaning his gun in silence. Boone wasn't a man of many faces, and while no one could tell, even he was worried for little miss Six.

ED-E floated close to the floor, by Rex's side. The robot, as upgraded by Arcade, used old audio logs to communicate with its comrades.

"THINK POSITIVE / YOU'LL BE FINE, CHAMP! / DON'T BE SAD " The audio logs were directed at no one specific, but the whole gang felt a little better. If ED-E could comprehend that it was going to be okay, it had to be okay. For a second, they may have convinced themselves.

The most silent, most upset of them all had to be Raul; the man kissed by radiation, cursing him with immortality and burns that eroded everything that made him a normal human.

"She told me to leave. She told me she'd be fine and I listened. I left her on her own." Raul spoke the first words he had spoken since she had left. He had shocked everyone, watching them all lift their heads to give him a sympathetic look.

When they watched Boone's hand lift from his gun, the stiff appendage giving Raul a lone pat on the shoulder, they knew his pain was real. Boone had a knack for knowing when pain was real.

"It ain't your fault," Cass slide her half-empty whiskey across the table to him ", why don't you check the radio again?"

Raul fiddled with the knobs, but with every notch, a different pitch of static came through.

"The signal went out... four-ish hour ago." Arcade estimated, the pit in his stomach dropping lower and lower. Veronica slammed her head against the table. Cass and Raul kept sliding the bottle back and forth. Rex slept. ED-E remained silent.

Four-ish hours of static and mumbling turned into six hours before their eyes. They had all taken to drinking; Cass had taken liberty upon herself to grab the cleanest, less scratched up bottles of whiskey from her personal collection. Boone had put his rifle away, giving Rex a huge bowl full of Salisbury Steak before sitting down to drink with the rest of the gang.

They talked, but there was still a fog of silence that reigned over them. It was abnormal. Six was the one to get everyone excited; playing strip caravan, dancing to Radio New Vegas, and spending all of her hard-earned caps on The Strip, making sure every single friend of hers had ample amount to spend. It seemed wrong to go ahead and do anything without her. Instead, they recalled stories of other times Six had drove them wild. Their laughs were muffled and meager; the type of laugh someone laughs when they are mourning.

Rex whined, head popping up from the half-eaten meal below his snout. He didn't even take the time to lick his sauce covered jowls; Rex simply stared into the main foyer. Veronica noticed the dog's behavior, pointing at him until the entire gang was watching. Rex's ear's slowly retreated until they were pinned to his head and his snout curled into a mean scowl. He dropped his upper body low to the ground, ready to hunt whatever he seemed to see.

Then, they heard it.

The sound of the elevator climbing up the tower.

No one dared to move. It was like they were anchored to their spots, watching Rex for a sign.

"It's her." Cass was sure; except, she wasn't sure. She was terrified of being not sure.

"They wouldn't just let anyone come up here." Arcade got behind Cass's thought.

"It's her. Or someone coming to tell us she's…" Veronica trailed off. She didn't wish to entertain the thought any longer.

"Penthouse floor!" The odd, chipper robot called out. Rex's bark started out vicious, but didn't take long to settle into something more relaxed. He, much like the others, didn't dare move. He barked and stared. When the gang saw her, it was clear why he didn't jump all over her.

There Six was entering the dining room; huffing from exhaustion and a heavy limp in her leg, all while dragging a packed bag.

She was worse for wear; from head to toe, she was stained with red. It wasn't blood; blood dried to a copper tone. No, she was stained bright red, from her skin to her clothes. A nasty scabbing wound caressed around her neck, the skin around it still looking shiny and tight. Her hair was thinning and the clothes she was wearing were not her clothes. The white jumpsuit was tied around her waist, white muscle shirt torn to reveal more and more cuts and cruises Six must have procured along her journey.

The gang stared at Six.

Six stared at the gang.

Raul went to stand, wanting nothing more than to grab her and hold her, and earn her forgiveness for his choice to leave her. But Six beat him to the punch, making the first bold move.

Six, drenched in sweat and numerous other fluids, used her last ounce of strength to lift her bag onto the dining table. The fixture nearly toppled over on impact, Veronica furrowing her brow at what could possibly be in her bag. Pushing it over, the contents spilled out; first her armour, then some snacks, then… gold. Gold bars and a sea of casino chips fell from her bag and onto the table.

Rose of Sharon Cassidy never laughed harder.

The silence was broken and order seemed to be restored. They emptied her bag to see all the trinkets she had found, chatting with each other, asking Six questions that went unanswered. The only thing the Courier could do was smile; she couldn't remember the last time her friends were ever surprised by something she did.

She let them ogle over her treasures, her friends barely even noticing that she slipped out of the room, only after giving Rex a good scratch behind the ear, of course. When Six was confident she was out of their sight, her hand flew to her hip, applying pressure as she hobbled along to her bedroom. She shut the door and leaned against the wall, wheezing in pain.

Her body burned with every small move she made. The distance from the doorway to her bed was almost too much. When Six fell upon her bed, she nearly passed out right away. But she was nearly two weeks sleep deprived and couldn't rest knowing she was still covered in that stuff.

As she pealed the clothing off her body, she could feel her flesh ripping apart from the fabric. Taking her feet out of her boots offered instant relief from her discomfort, wiggling her dirty toes in the cool air of her home. Six slowly removed every item of clothing except for her shirt; she knew it was going to hurt.

Her arms put up a fight as she lifted them, but quickly forgot the pain in her elbows as she stripped. The wounds on her torso, still bloody and now oozing pus, had glued the shirt to her skin. Six felt tears falling down her face, but she kept ripping the shirt off her body, finally just yanking the item over her head and letting it fall to the floor.

As her back exposed to the air, she felt her muscles and spine set ablaze.

She was terrified to look.

Six grabbed a hand mirror and faced her back to the full-length mirror. Her stomach tossed the instant she saw her back. Deep, wide, and long wounds plagued her back. When she took a deep breath, she could see the textures of muscle and bone. They reminded her of craters, the indentations deep into her flesh; the scars weren't going to be any better.

With a shaky breath out, she grabbed a bottle of vodka off her nightstand. She couldn't leave it dirty if she wanted the stimpaks to work. Taking a large gulp of the pre-war alcohol, she dumped the contents onto her back. Six fell to her knees, screaming into her fist as she collapsed, the pain surging through to her extremities. As she lay there, the endorphins from the pain and her travels dropped. For the first time since leaving for that dreaded place, Six cried.

Six laid on the floor, staring at the wall until her eyes burned and she had to blink. Every time Six blinked, she saw them. Every moment of silence, she heard the whispers. She could hear the cloud.

"Boss?" Raul had knocked, Six was sure, but she didn't hear him. He had entered anyway, some towels and two buckets of water in his hands. Six wiped her tears, but she didn't get up. Raul didn't care that she was bare and Six didn't care that he saw her bare.

The ghoul helped her off the floor and onto her bed. He dipped a rag into a bucket and started cleaning her flesh. The more he washed, the more bruises and cuts were revealed. Six washed her own face, shocked to see she had a black eye and a split lip.

"I don't remember this happening." Six pointed to her face, her tone too passé for Raul's liking.

"I'm sorry I left you." Raul whispered. Six waved her hand at him in a casual way, but didn't respond.

"I feel horrible, Boss."

"We would have been separated anyway." Six said.

"What happened? Why were you gone so long? We were so worried. Boss," Raul gently turned her to him ", I was worried about you. I thought you died."

"Me too."

"What do you mean?"

"I thought I was dead. I saw Hell."

"What happened after I left?" Raul grabbed her shoulders, desperate to get a straight answer.

"Lots of bullshit."

"Melina."

She looked up to him. Raul never used her name; no one ever used her name, but especially not Raul. Melina was better known to everyone as Six or Courier Six; when someone uses her name, it's a sign of need.

"It's funny, really. I saw Hell, I was faced with death. I was beaten and broken. I was lonely ad forced to trust people who wanted to kill me and I wanted to kill them. But something about it… I want to go back. I can hear her calling me. Like a home far away, it calls me."

"What are you talking about? Whose voice?"

"Vera's voice. The voice of the Sierra Madre."

It's a tad wordy, but it's been so long since I've been happy with something. The rest of the story is going to be going over how she got to this point. Except some romance, suspense, and my take on the world of the Sierra Madre.