Disclaimer: I do not own new vegas or the fallout franchise. I'm simply a fan.

For my brother

My head feels so fuzzy. I sit up trying to come to grips with my head. Through the dizziness, I see a dark room, some large equipment of some type, a ceiling fan, and a figure. This doesn't feel very familiar, but comforting. How and when did I get here?

"Ah, so you're finally comin' to."

My vision clears as I rub my eyes and I see an old man sitting next to me with a smile on his face.

"mmnn huh?"

"Most of us 'round here didn't think you'd make it, but by golly you sure did."

I sat up and blinked a few times.

"You were near dead when that robot dug you up. I'm surprised the first bullet didn't kill ya."

"The first bullet?" I murmured

"I yep, found two 9mm bullets in your noggin."

"Wh-when was I shot?"

The old man gave me a sad look.

"Sorry, I don't know much. They brought you in here a few days ago and that's the first time I'd heard about you. Maybe you can help me piece together who you are, for the paperwork of coarse."

"Oh...ok then..." I muttered as I swung my legs over the side of the bed.

"Let's try to get you moving." He said as he grabbed my upper arms and helped me stand up.

I instantly was seeing double and I had to stand there a minute and blink to get the gears in my head turning. Those bullets must have done some damage. My only question was why did I get them. I didn't remember much besides the man in the checkered-co

"Wa-Was there a man in a checkered coat in town a few days ago?" I asked

"I'm not too sure I've seen one. I've been stuck in my house since before they brought you in."

I followed him into what looked to be a living room. I plopped down on the couch as he grabbed a clipboard off of a bookshelf. His place seemed pleasant enough for a being a house in the wasteland. It wasn't exactly bright, but it had a warm feeling to it. I remembered being somewhere once that had a similar feeling to it, but it didn't register where it was at. Maybe it had just been memories of a dream. Not many Mojave towns had nice houses.

"Name?"

I looked up at him with a confused look on my face.

"What?"

"What's your name? It's for the paperwork."

I thought about it for a moment. What was my name? Did I have one? After a few minutes something came up, but I wasn't too sure about it.

"Claudia...Claudia Reed..."

"Good. Year of birth?"

"uhh..."

"It's okay, not many folks keep track of that anymore. You look about 20, so 19. 2262 it is."

I wondered if I really was about that old. What if I was younger? What if I was actually only like 12? What if I was like 30 something? My bazaar thoughts were stopped with the next question.

"Can you fill out this form? It's not like you probably have a family history of getting shot in the head, it's just a formality."

Around 9 o'clock that morning I left the doctor's house with a blue and yellow jumpsuit, a device on my left arm called a "pipboy 3000" and a paper about a courier delivering a poker chip. I was that courier, but I lost the poker chip. I had a strong suspicion that the man in checkered coat had something to do with it.

Then I walked out of that town, Goodsprings, with a 10mm in hand and the sun at my back, to look for that checker-coated man.

a/n: I don't mean to offend anyone by the use of "emo". It started purely as a joke when my brother and I were describing the companions to a friend of ours.

I'll update when I can (aka this isn't going to come out a certain time).