The long trek from New Vegas to Boulder City hadn't been kind to Boone. Hell, even his stay in The Strip hadn't been good. It was his first time back without Carla, and the visit had been…bitter sweet at best. On top of that, the courier confronted Benny, only to have him take advantage of her gullible side, and get away. Red was a genuine girl. Sure, she may have kept secrets of her own, but when it came to her own feelings, she'd never lie. So, she just assumed everyone else would do the same. Benny had been a good wake-up call for her; a way of showing that most in New Vegas weren't willing to play fair.

After that whole ordeal, Red was furious and decided to cool off with a bit of wandering. She suggested seeing if Camp Forlorn Hope needed any help, and Boone had no objection to helping the NCR. The two arrived at Boulder City very late at night, and because of Red's good reputation there, they were given free rooms for a night. Now he was groggily stumbling out of bed, wishing he could just sleep forever. Trudging down to the saloon, he found Red sitting at one of tables. Her one clear blue eye carefully studied a sniper rifle that she was turning over in her hands. The other eye was covered with black eye patch, although Boone couldn't say for sure if there was even an eye behind it at all.

Wait…that was his sniper rifle! A sense of anger and a need to scold washed over to him as he approached the girl. He stood menacingly over where she sat, and it took her a second to notice. Her chin-length maroon hair swished slightly as she looked up.

"Good morning." She smiled up at him.

"What are you doing with my rifle?" He cut straight to the chase.

"Oh," looked back down at the weapon. "You left it here after dinner last night."

"I what?" he snapped, aghast that he would even be so careless.

Then again, he had been pretty fatigued that night.

"Mhm," she nodded, "I was going to take it back to you, but you were already in bed, so I didn't want to disturb. Instead, I just took it back with me so nobody else would take it."

"Well thank you, but I'd like it back now."

"I was going to…" she tapped the weapon awkwardly, "But then I noticed the receiver was broken."

"What are you talking about?" he grunted.

As far as he knew, his sniper rifle had been working just fine, and he knew the thing inside and out.

"Here, see?" she held the gun up for him to see and gently poking at the receiver, "It's loose."

Boone didn't even bend down to get a closer look.

"It's supposed to that."

"I know guns, Boone, and I know that receivers aren't supposed to do that." She shook her head.

It was true: Red was fairly skilled when it came to anything that spit lead. He had seen her scrounge together weapon repair kits, and snub gunsmiths for her own handiwork. Still, he had only known her for a month, and he didn't like the idea of an associate tinkering with his sniper rifle.

"Then you obviously don't know sniper rifles." He shot back.

"Sure I do," she sassed and went to reach for her pack, "Here, let me show you."

"Red, give it back." He growled and tried to grab the rifle.

However, she pulled back, "Just hang on—"

"Red." He growled again, this time taking a hold of the gun.

Now his glowering eyes locked with her one, sincere eye. She obviously had good intentions, but he was not in the mood to accept any goodwill.

"Let go." He warned.

Before New Vegas, Red would sighed and reluctantly gave in. But since Benny made her realize how much of a doormat she really was, she had learned to stand her ground.

"…No," she replied softly, "Boone, I swear, this'll break down on—"

"Stop, it won't just—" he gave a tug.

"If you just give me an hour to—" she tugged back.

"Red, I swear, if you don't—" he fought back, this time pulling harder.

SNAP. The sound of metal breaking and clattering to the tile floor cut the two off from their argument. They cast their eyes down to the floor to see the receiver broken off. Nervously, the courier gulped and looked up at Boone, whose bulging eyes looked about ready to break through his shades. Then he let out an ominous growling, much like a dog would in a fight, but scarier. He only needed to take one step forward to send Red scrambling from her seat.

"W-w-wait, Boone!" she stuttered as she backed away hurriedly, clutching his rifle to her chest defensively.

The sniper advanced on her threateningly until he had Red's back up against the wall, glaring aggressively into her pale blue eye. Red would have called it sexual assault if she wasn't so scared of Boone just punching her face in.

"I've had that sniper rifle since day one in the First Recon." He snarled.

"I…I'm sorry." She whimpered.

"It's gonna cost a fuckton to replace a part like that." He hissed as he snatched his gun back.

"N-no, you don't have to do that," she shook her head quickly, "I can fix it!"

"Yeah, because that went well the first time."

Now he was just insulting her ingenuity, which she wouldn't stand for.

"Boone," she suddenly gathered some backbone and met his gaze, "You said it yourself, it'll be pricey to hire a gunsmith and you know I'm good with repairs. Look, I'm…I'm sorry I broke your rifle, but I can for sure replace the receiver. I-I can even make some improvements to it!"

Since Benny, Red had also started practicing the art of speech craft. She figured if Benny could trample her with his smooth talking, so could she. Although she was no silver tongue yet, she was still convincing, and that expressive blue eye definitely gave her a boost. Begrudgingly the sniper thrust the weapon back into her arms.

"Have it done before tomorrow." He ordered.

Courier Six nodded furiously and hurried out the door. Just as Boone was about to start his usual seething, he heard a muffled laughing from the bar. The bartender and a customer were trying to keep from guffawing, but one death gaze from the sniper, and the bartender quickly shut up. The other man however, just kept chuckling. Boone would have written it off and ignored him, but then he noticed something familiar in the man. It was like he had seen him somewhere before.

"Damn, Boone, I didn't know you could be any more of a hard ass than you already were." He laughed.

"Rich," Boone acknowledged the old friend, "Been a while."

He remembered Rich from the First Recon. The two of them had been placed in many of the same missions, and although Rich wasn't there for Bitter Springs, he could still say he knew Boone when he was a little less stiff.

"I'll say," Rich chuckled, "What have you been up to since the First Recon? You know, besides having your weapons manhandled by Miss Sticky Fingers over there."

Boone rolled his eyes and took a seat at the stool next to Rich. He was still fuming about the whole incident, but maybe a quick chat with an old comrade in arms would cool him off. After all, he still had a hell of a lot more miles to travel with Red, so staying pissed at her the whole time wouldn't help anything.

"I worked as a sniper for Novac with Manny Vargas," he explained, "Then Red came along. She helped me with a favor, and now I owe her. I'm helping her track down Benny."

Rich whistled at the name. He knew tracking, let alone facing someone like that, would be difficult.

"Why's she hunting him of all people?" he asked.

"She's a courier. Was delivering a package to the Strip when he and some Great Khans jumped her. According to her, they took the package, shot her point blank in the head, and dumped her a shallow grave outside Goodsprings. I guess that town's got one hell of doctor, because he fixed her up and now she's back to finish her delivery."

"Yikes," Rich cringed at the tale, "That's one hell of a delivery job."

Boone just snorted, "You ask me, it's all over exaggerated rumor. There's no way someone can survive a headshot."

Rich thought it over a moment before giving a weak nod. He and Boone both carried out their fair share of headshots, and none of their victims ever lived through it.

"Maybe he just shot her in the eye," Rich shrugged, "Could be why she's missing her left."

"Could be," Boone grunted, then went on to complain, "She's a decent shot, but it's clear that her lack of an eye gets in way sometimes. I've seen her miss targets just a few feet away from her."

"Sounds like she leans on you quite a bit then," Rich remarked.

"Yeah, I've had to take a few shots for her. Shots that should have been easy…but…" his voice trailed off for a moment, "There have been times when she's a damn good shot. I'm talking the accuracy of a veteran First Recon, and she manages to pull it off without a scope of any kind."

"Huh?" his friend looked lost.

"I don't get it myself…" Boone mumbled suspiciously, "But one time I was dealing with a Legion sniper across a valley. The fight was dragging on like any fight between two snipers would, but then Red got tired of waiting. She came out from her cover, stepped in front of me, and fired her pistol. I saw the Legion soldier drop dead through my scope."

Rich gave his old friend a dubious look, "So you're willing to believe shit like that, but you don't believe she could have survived a bullet to the head?"

"I know it sounds crazy," Boone sighed, "But it's happened on other occasions. Taking out a swarm of Cazadors with only one bullet each, shooting a Robobrain in just the right spot to make it malfunction…I'd accuse her of faking the eye patch if she didn't pull stunts like that so rarely. After each one, she's gotten really bad migraines. Like the one with the Legion sniper; she had to lie down for a while before she was well enough to keep moving."

Rich mulled the notion over a second before shrugging, "Lucky hits?"

"…Maybe…" Boon muttered.

A silence fell between the two that went on for quite a while. Boone was waiting on his rifle to be fixed while Rich was enjoying his first day of leave, so neither had anywhere else to be. So the two just sat there, slowly sipping their drinks.

"Well," Rich finally spoke up, "We all hide our own secrets. Speaking of which, how's Carla?"

By the lack of response on Boone's part, Rich could only assume the worse.

"Ah…I'm sorry, Boone. What happened?"

"The Legion got her," he answered bluntly, "She's dead."

"The Legion got her?" Rich repeated, "But she's dead?"

"Your ears not working or something?"

"It's just that…well wouldn't they have taken her as a slave?" Rich wondered out loud, "Wouldn't there be a way of getting her back?"

"No, she's gone, Rich." Boone insisted.

"How do you know?" Rich pried further.

"I just do." Boone snapped suddenly.

The silence fell upon the two again with Rich clearly becoming fed up with Boone's angsty disposition. Sure, the guy had always been a bit of a silent grouch, but it was like he amplified his bitterness by ten!

"You sure she didn't run out on you?" Rich huffed, "She'd never shut up about Vegas after all."

The sniper put his glass on the counter with a slam, making the bartender nearly drop the shot glass he was cleaning. With that, he stormed out of the saloon, pissed at how his day had turned out. He had woken up sore, had his favorite sniper rifle broken by a ditz, and took guff from an old friend. Although now that he thought about it, Rich was never a very good friend to begin with. He was always sticking his nose in other people's business.

Dusk had fallen outside. The entire conversation he had with Rich had been very drawn out and lazy. Boone hated lazy days. Nothing to do…nothing to keep his mind occupied…plenty of chances for it to wander. Taking a seat on some rubble of a pre-war building, he stared out on the cracked and broken road. He would have surveyed the landscape with his scope, but…he didn't have one. It felt weird without his gun by his side. It was like the comrade that had been through it all with him. It was there at Bitter Springs, there when Carla died. That was more than most of his cohorts could say.

"Boone?" a voice broke his stream of thoughts.

Turning his head, he saw Red standing there, backlit by the setting sun. Her blood red hair almost meshed perfectly with the warm-colored sky. However, the armored vault jumpsuit clashed. She held his sniper rifle in her hands, hugged closely to her chest like it might break again.

"I, uh, fixed it." She mumbled timidly, probably still wary of the fact that he'd still be mad.

"Let me see." Boone gestured for her to come closer.

The courier stepped forward and carefully handed the weapon back to Boone. He gently tapped on the receiver to find it replaced with scrap metal. Scrap, but durable none the less, and it showed no signs of breaking off. As he aimed the gun into the distance and stared through the scope, Red hopped up on the jagged rubble with him.

"I made some other adjustments too," she bragged, "I added some more resistance to the trigger and the magazine catch so things feel a little more snappy and responsive. I also cleaned off the cheek pad and added some cushiness to it. Oh, and…"

She reached over to touch the scope, but one look from Boone told her that he didn't want her so much as touching his gun ever again. Red withdrew her hand.

"If you just turn that little knob on the scope…" she pointed to a new add-on Boone had never seen before.

He turned it and looked through the scope to see everything had gone green and black.

"It goes all night vision-y!" She squealed happily, "See, I told I'm good with repairs. And all that extra stuff I added…take it as an apology for overstepping my boundaries."

Her companion was silent for a few seconds as he felt every part of the gun, making sure everything was in working order. It was, and it felt as new as the day he got it.

"Where'd you learn to do this?" he asked gruffly.

"My dad owned a weapon repair shop back home. His whole thing was supplying weapon repairs at a cheap price, since they're so pricey everywhere else," she explained, "He taught me about half of what I know. The rest is self-taught. I always wanted to take over the shop after him."

"Why didn't you?"

Red opened her mouth to speak, then stopped herself, like his question caught her off guard. Then she just stared off into the dusky sky with a wishful expression.

"Life happens," she answered bluntly, "And the childhood dreams we make have to be set aside for the real world."

Boone didn't respond to that. Red had seemed such an upbeat person up until then, and it never struck him that she might have a rough past. Sometimes it even bugged him how optimistic she was. Didn't she know the shit he had gone through? Although, he didn't even know the shit she went through. Both of them had kept their shit-filled backstories to themselves. So maybe there was a darker edge to Red than he knew.

"But I love being a courier. I wouldn't trade it for the world." She broke the grim atmosphere with a dreamy sigh.

"Then why'd you quit?"

"Quit? No, I didn't quit," she shook her head, "I'm actually still on a job. Just a really, really long job that requires wiping out Caesar's Legion and taking a platinum poker chip back from a bastard in a checkered coat."

"That's a job I can help with. Long as it means killing some Legionaries along the way." He replied.

"Then we'll kill every one we see." She agreed proudly.

More silence followed as Red watched the falling sun and Boone slung his rifle over his back.

"Oh, by the way, this is a little awkward, but…" the courier spoke up, "Well they only gave us those rooms for one night. Said 'one night for one act of heroism', and because there's no more Great Khans around to kill…"

Red's voice trailed off while her companion let out an exasperated sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose. If she hadn't gone and broken his gun, they would already be at Forlorn Hope.

"Yeeeaaah," Red cringed, but tried to make light of the situation, "But hey, travelling by night isn't so bad. I used to do it sometimes while making deliveries."

Travelling with Red Belladue was going to be the death of him, but hey, that wouldn't be something he'd mind very much.

AN: Thank you so much for reading my fic. If you're really eager to read more, there are 5 chapters on Archive of Our Own under the same title.