EDIT: I've redone this story. I believe the second attempt is much better. Here is the link: s/10149309/1/Don-t-Forget-Me

This is short, but I'm just getting started. Comments/reviews are always appreciated.

She looked into his dark eyes, his face seemingly blank. She desperately searched for any emotion at all. The guards stood at his side. All she saw was that moment, frozen like a picture. His lips didn't even seem to move when he talked.

"…must seem like an eighteen-karat run of bad luck…"

It sounded like the blood was rushing to her ears, and her heart seemed to be beating too fast. She clung to the words viciously as fear filled her senses. Clenching her fists at her sides, she tried opening her eyes, blinking several times to clear away the fuzziness of sleep.

"You're awake," a gentle voice roused her. "Hell of a shot you took. You've been out a few days now."

She turned her head, her breath calming at the sound of the soothing voice. She pushed herself up onto her elbows, instantly feeling a little dizzy.

"Easy there. Easy," said the man. "Why don't you just relax a second? Get your bearings. Let's see what the damage is," He said, the last part seeming to almost be to himself. "How about your name? Can you tell me your name?"

"My name?" Her voice came out a croak. She cleared her throat and tried a second time.

"That's right," he answered. "Tell me your name."

"It's…" Her mind drew a blank. "Rita." She answered with the first name that came to mind. She had a feeling that it wasn't her name.

He chuckled lightly, his voice soft and kind. "Well, that's not what I'd have picked for you, but if that's your name, that's your name. I'm doc Mitchell. Welcome to Good Springs."

"Thanks." She bit her lip. She tried to remember if she'd ever heard of the town before, but couldn't remember anything at all. She wanted to ask questions but before she could, he spoke again.

"Well," he breathed. "No sense in keeping you in bed any longer. Walk to the Vit-o-matic Vigor Tester, and we'll learn right quick if you've got all your faculties back."

Violence just wasn't in her nature? She didn't want to rely on others? What a joke, she thought, biting her lip as she left the Doc's house, meager supplies in tow. She hadn't had much time to think too heavily on her past while the doc was checking her over. She'd asked if he could help her, but he'd only given her a little direction, leading her towards some objective. She had no idea what else she could do. She had no food, no water, no home...

She sighed. At least she knew what she looked like. She had taken a few minutes in the doctor's bathroom to check herself over. She had some healing stitches, but she felt hardly any pain unless she touched it. The doc had given her instructions on how to care for it too. The most striking thing about her face was her eyes. They were sharply angled with arching brows above them. The irises were a deep brown with little flecks of amber in them. Her lips were kind of full with cracks in them that seemed somewhat attractive to her. The face looked confident, admirable, and cunning. Everything that she didn't feel.

She was a courier. The invoice- the little slip of paper. It was the only thing she had linking her to her past. Her name wasn't even on it. Her breath came unevenly as she thought of how absolutely empty that seemed. She had a few caps and a couple of stimpacks, but nothing else that would tell her who she was. Her mind churned over all the possibilities of what she could go to figure herself out. Her mind settled on finding a Mojave Express office first off. Doc Mitchel had mentioned it to her and it had seemed like a good idea. From there, she thought glumly. I'll have to see if they recognize me.

The man who tried to kill her would also be next on the list. She had nothing else to go by, and no where to go anyway. Mitchel had mentioned how she might find them, so at least she had a lead.

Continuing to walk, she thought of everything the kind doctor had told her. She replayed every word as carefully as she could. The scenery passed by, seeming so unfamiliar. She felt lost, watching the tumbleweeds...

"Tumbleweeds tumbling," She muttered, rolling her eyes at how cheesy her thoughts had turned.

Suddenly a new thought came to mind.

She sucked in a hissing breath as she suddenly remembered something. Her mind vaguely recalled a face and a gun. She froze, standing in a lonely street occupied by the tumbleweeds and scraggly plants. The dust stirred as the wind quietly scooped it up, playing with her hair as well. The black strands floated in front of her face as her world froze.

"The game was rigged from the start."

The wind stopped and her hair settled, partly in her face, and the trance was broken. What else had he said? Did he say her name? Anything about her at all? She tried to remember more but nothing came. Only his low voice in that same cold tone.

Sighing, she walked into the saloon only to be greeted by a growling dog.

"Cheyenne. Stay," Ordered a woman dressed in leather armor. She had her hair wavy blonde hair tied back in a knot behind her head. "Don't worry," She continued in a silky accent. "She won't bite unless I tell her to. Name's Sunny. The way I figured, you wouldn't be walking out of the doc's place at all. But you look pretty darn good. What can I do you for?"

The Courier took a breath and held it for half a second. "The doctor says that you can help me to shoot?"

"Yeah." The slightest of pauses. "I guess there's a thing or two that I could show you. And judging the company you keep, you could use it. Meet me out back behind the saloon."

The Courier bit back a retort. The company she kept? No one stuck around people like that. Why would she be around some man who would happily pull the trigger twice just to rob her?

The Courier followed her hesitatingly, eyes darting about the saloon, taking in all the faces. As she neared the exit, she passed a bathroom and caught a glimpse of something moving. She took a few steps back to check on it and saw that a mirror hung on the wall facing her. She stared, writing her features into her memory. She had short black hair, neatly trimmed into a fluffy pixie cut. Her eyes were wide. They sat at an angle that gave her a wolfish look, the dark brown pupils not helping soften their edge. She ran her fingers over her nose. It was bent out slightly at a curve that made it look distinctly Native American. As she realized that she understood at least a little about the world she smiled, her full lips curving up pleasantly. She now knew what her face looked like, and she realized that she must have retained some of her memory if she remembered what a Native American was and looked like.

I also know that a cap is money, that I have to keep away from deathclaws, that the Earth is round... She kept on with all the things she did know, vowing to start a journal soon. It would probably help quite a bit with her memory.

As she got to the back of the building, Sunny snuffed out a cigarette. "Took your time," she called as the Courier made it over to the fence line. Sunny pulled out a rifle, handing it off to the Courier. The metal felt cool and light in her hands.

"Try to hit those Sarsaparilla bottles over there."

She nodded, inhaling deeply as she turned to face the bottles. She crouched on one knee reflexively and checked the gun, trying to become familiar with it. She figured it out quicker than she could have realized and was soon hitting the bottles with some accuracy.

"Apparently I've used a gun before," She noted to herself mostly, adding it to the list of things to write in her journal.

"I'd say." Sunny rubbed the back of her neck. "Hey look. Normally I wouldn't ask this, but I figure you could apply those skills of yours, and I'd pay you too. Could you maybe help me with a gecko problem?"

"Sure," The Courier answered automatically, deciding that she could handle making a few caps.

By the time the Courier had settled in somewhere to sleep, the sun had been down fora few hours already. The sound of coyotes in the distance almost sent a shiver down her spine, but she kept her rifle next to her as she tucked herself into the crevice between the rocks. Good Springs was already behind her and she was already on her way.

Her supplies consisted of a backpack with food, water, and ammunition as well as her notebook for journaling and a single frying pan and fork. She also had, her rifle of course, but the knife at her belt too. Last but not least, she had her sleeping bag, which she was curled up in at the moment. The silence of the Mohave stretched for miles and she wasn't sure if she could sleep. Only occasionally did she catch any sounds, and they all made her jump.

And I'm supposed to make it through this to find the Mojave Express? She mused, trying to shut out the desert. Each time she closed her eyes she wished that she could open them again to see if the coast was still clear.

As the moon reached its peak in the sky, a single thought ran through her mind as she started to drift off:

I don't think I can do this alone.