Intermission
Excerpt One
"Dream, sweetly dream,"
When Boone signed up with the Courier, there were many things he hadn't expected. Getting less sleep than her, was one of them. As a habit, Courier Hawkins slept only a few hours every night. She'd sometimes go two days without a wink, only shutting her eyes when her body began to tremble and her aim was off.
Needless to say, after a few weeks, Craig Boone began to notice why.
Lying on the cot beside him, back against a large rock wall overlooking Mojave, Hawkins twitched. The sniper cast a glance at her, firelight flickering on his face. A moment went by before she groaned and whined pitifully, curling into a ball under the dirty blanket.
Her eyes moved restlessly under their lids. Upon further inspection, he noticed dark circles under them, framing her large grey eyes.
They made her look sick, to him.
Unsure of what to do, Boone simply scooted a bit closer and leaned back, his watchful gaze on their surroundings.
With every whimper, his frown deepened.
Two weeks later, the night was repeated. They were sleeping in the Atomic Wrangler, the special room that Hawkins had some how conned the twins out of. Unable to sleep, Boone sat on the sofa, staring up at the ceiling.
A few hours after she had finally fallen asleep, the courier began to make those pitiful sounds, body restless.
The robot hovered over Boone worriedly, chirping and beeping in earnest. He quieted it with a hushed hiss, and made his way to the bed. He stood there for five very long minutes, watching as she twisted and turned, nightmares plaguing her mercilessly.
Slowly, he reached forward, resting his hand on the first place he reached, her stomach. Sitting down on the bed, he let his hand rest on her sunburned tummy, calloused thumb moving in soothing circles over her rib.
Hawkins quieted after a moment, body stilling. Her whimpers quieted and Boone pulled the sheet over her body, making sure not to tuck it in too tightly.
She hated being restrained, the sniper recalled.
Funny, he thought.
He'd never pegged her for the type to have more nightmares than a hardened NCR sniper.
Moving back to the couch, he settled down and began to doze, hand tight on his rifle.
"Did you slip me somethin'?"
Boone blinked at her. "What?"
"Did you slip me somethin' in my drink last night?" Her voice was getting louder now, mouth set indignantly.
"No. Why?" He asked, curious.
"I haven't slept that well in...well, in a long damn time. I'll bet it was the twins, the shifty bastards." Hawkins muttered, pulling on her scarf.
Boone smirked.