I've never written Raul before, so bear with me. This is for the FalloutKinkMeme in response to the following:
The Courier leaves Vegas to Yes Man for a bit and started traveling to see the world outside the Mojave. Raul tags along for old time's sake (secretly to watch out for his best friend/maybe more) and they come across a herd of mutated mustangs. Turns out Raul still remembers how to ride, even after all this time. As someone who grew up on a ranch, it never leaves you. Courier watches in awe as the old ghoul comes alive again.
The sign had promised that it was the "New Mexico: Land of Enchantment," and some of the slaves they'd liberated had sworn it belonged to Caesar, but all Raul and Emma had found was dust. Dust and decay, more of the same thing they'd found in the Mojave. Sure, the scenery had changed a bit, but it was more of the same. Old world civilization gone to ruin, industrious scavengers salvaging what they could to try to rebuild something.
They had seen people in the distance from time to time, but neither of them was eager to venture into society, so they had kept walking. Kept to the wilds. To the wastes. It suited them better that way. There were fewer questions, fewer guns pointed in their faces if they kept away. They could relax in the wilderness in a way that just wasn't possible around others.
Emma still didn't remember much, so she made up stories about her past. Raul remembered everything, but sometimes he made up stories, too. Or he didn't. She never quite knew.
Sometimes, they even talked about the future, or tried to. She'd made the mistake of trying to get Raul to talk about his future, but he'd shrugged her off and told her that what mattered most was now.
Together, they would walk the world, she declared. He had just shrugged and told her he would follow. He would always follow. He would be with her until her time was up, and then he would find something else to do with himself. The thought was simultaneously morbid and comforting. To know that even when she was gone, when all traces of her contributions to the world had been forgotten, Raul would still be there.
They had walked several miles that day, and Emma was just starting to get tired when Raul had called for a stop. He stared at the earth below them. She had thought it was just another mark in the dirt, but Raul had frozen. He had stooped and stared at it. He had frowned at the dust, squatted and moved around it, examining it from multiple angles.
When he had looked up at her, there had been a light in that worn face that she had never seen before. His lips had cracked into a genuine smile.
"Horses."
She had smiled in response, but it hadn't meant much to her. Perhaps she had known more, once, but right then, she had no idea what a 'horse' was. Still, Raul looked so happy there, crouched in the dirt and pointing at a vague shape that she smiled for him. For his happiness.
He caught her hand, pulled her down to crouch beside him. She tried to see what he was seeing. She squinted and stared and frowned. But Raul was patient, and when it became clear she could not see it on her own, he pointed it out to her.
"There." He outlined it with a finger, and she followed the curve of the shape he drew. "And there, there, and there." With each 'there,' he pointed to another shape in the dust. She tracked where his finger pointed, but couldn't make out much.
"I know, boss." He smiled again, but this time it was sad. "You think this old ghoul is teasing you. But there are horses here, somewhere."
Emma hadn't known what to say, so she hadn't said a word. He'd just smiled that sad smile again, and followed her without a backward glance when they moved on.