Disclaimer: I do not own Fallout, Bethesda does.

A/N: This my first fanfic...hope you like it!


"Boone," her bloody hand is clenched around his as she croaks out the words, "if I don't…there's a letter, in my jacket. Make sure…it gets to the right person."

"How will I know?"

His only answers are her eyes rolling back in her head and the doctor saying he lost her pulse. An aide pushes him brusquely out of the tent while they try to resuscitate her. He stumbles backwards, falling on the pile of their gear, her bloodied jacket laid out on top.

The letter is easy to find, tucked in the inside breast pocket. He fingers it lightly, spinning it around by its corners, as he considers opening the blank envelope. How will I know? There's no name. He shouldn't read a letter meant for someone else. But how would he know if it's blank?

He tucks the letter into his own pocket and lies down on the dirt. A loud gasp of air from the medical tent grabs his attention and he leaps to his feet. She's breathing again, albeit shallowly. Doctor is still running around like mad, injecting her with all sorts of chems. They prep her for surgery.

Hours later, the doctor finds Boone, his hands and coat stained with her blood. "She's—she's stable. Stable, but in a coma. I can't do anything else for her right now. If there's anyone you should contact, your wife's family, for example, I suggest you do it. Comas are unpredictable beasts in the Wasteland."

Boone's heart falls to his feet. She's not his wife. But part of him feels she should be.

He stumbles away, looking for a private spot. He pulls her letter out once more, turning it over in his hands a few times before closing his eyes and tearing the seal.

Boone,

Don't blame yourself. I know you are right now, but really, you've saved my life so many times over, I don't know what to say. Actually I do know what to say: thank you. It's been an honor to travel with you, and thank you for making me a part of your life. I know it's not easy.

And, well, maybe this isn't the best way to say this, seeing as how I can't really do anything about it now (being dead and all) but… I love you, Boone. Craig. Can I call you Craig? I know you may not have space in your heart to love another woman, and you may not ever, but I just wanted you to know that…you were never really alone, not while I was around. The last thing I ever wanted to do was leave you alone again, and here I've gone and done that.

I'm sorry, I'm so so sorry.

Don't blame yourself.

-MacKenzie-

His jaw clenches as he reads the letter. He crumples it tightly in his hand, refusing to loosen his grip. If—when—she wakes up, things will be different. He will make them be different.