Okay, so this is the first story I'm publishing so R&R welcome! I use a few mods so some of my story is going to include those just to add a little bit of freshness. Rated M for violence, language, and sexual content.

Chapter 1 - Reawakening

Something felt...off. Unfamiliar. Courier opened her eyes slowly. The room was bathed in light from the sparsely boarded up windows on the wall behind where she lay. Still nothing seemed to catch her memory. All she knew was that her head was pounding, and when she tried to sit up, pain ripped through her skull forcing her back down.

"Easy there, easy." A kindly voice to her left startled and reassured her all at once. "You've been out cold a couple days now. Why don't you just relax a second?"

Courier pulled herself up to a sitting position anyway and looked to the source of the voice. An elderly man sat next to the couch where she was positioned and leaned forward.

"Let's see what the damage is." He checked her pupils and felt the crook of her arm for what she assumed was a pulse. She wanted to tell him to back off, that she had no idea who he was and he needed to address that first. But she was too weak and found herself paralyzed and swaying slightly.

"Alright then. Let's start easy shall we? How about your name," the man leaned back in his chair and focused on her, "can you tell me your name?"

Thoughts and images surged through her mind, but she was unable to grasp at any of them. Her name. What was her name? Her head throbbed and she felt nauseous. How could she forget her name?! The pain must have registered on her face because the man put up a hand and gently waved off the question. He spoke again and she found that his voice soothed her, despite its unfamiliarity. She breathed deeply, trying to slow the aching pulse in her head.

"It's alright. It's alright. I'm Doc Mitchell," the man informed her. "Welcome to Goodsprings."

Goodsprings. Small flutters of images flashed through her mind but they were too ethreal to really grasp. She realized she had not yet spoken, tried to, and found that her brain and her body were not really in sync with each other, so she stayed silent and hoped that the man, Doc Mitchell, would understand.

"I hope you don't mind but I had to go rootin' around in your noggin there to get all the pieces of lead out. I take pride in my needlework, but you better tell me if I left anything out of place." Doc Mitchell held up a mirror. Courier looked into and saw herself and a wave of comfort rolled over her. Something familiar. Pale cream skin dotted lightly with freckles, hazel-green eyes, and long blonde hair. Her.

She recognized herself, so that must be a good sign, right? But when her eyes traveled up to the large gash in her temple she shuddered. Again images flooded her mind. The full moon, a distant radio, the smell of dirt, and . . . black and white, checkers?

Courier still found no voice, so she merely nodded. Doc Mitchell smiled. "Well I got most of it right anyway. Stuff that mattered. Now let's see if we can get you on your feet." He stood and leaned over to help her up. She lifted herself up slowly, shaking like a newborn brahmin, leaning heavily into the doc's arms. Pain seared through her vision and she nearly collapsed all over again, but he kept her standing and soon enough it passed. One step at a time he helped her across the large room, until she could almost stand all on her own. Doc steered her to weird looking machine that he placed her hand over. She jumped when it pricked her finger and, in a weirdly mesmerizing way, begin to move move and roll letters around in its display. Doc read the information and nodded, giving a "ah", and "mmhmm" every now and then.

"Lookin' good so far. Looks like you've still got most of your faculties. Well we now your vitals are good. Let's give you little bit of rest now and we'll work some more tomorrow."

Doc Mitchell led her back to the dusty couch and helped her lay down. Before she could really register anything else, Courier felt herself drift off.

"There you go."

Doc Mitchell set a plate of fried eggs and gecko meat in front of her. The smell elicited a small smile from her and she wondered what her brain knew about it that she didn't. "Thank you." Courier jumped at the sound of her own voice. Doc laughed a little.

"I knew you were in there somewhere," he smiled at her. "Just needed a little time is all. A bullet to the brain takes a lot out of ya." Courier smiled back and turned back to her food. It took her a little bit of struggle to handle her knife and fork, she was a lot weaker than she ever thought possible, but in no time she had devoured the meal, realizing it must have been her first in almost a week.

After breakfast, Doc led her to another room where he motioned for her to sit on a comfortable brown couch while he rummaged through a bookcase against the wall. He came back with a notepad, a book, pencil, and some strange looking cards and sat opposite her in an armchair.

"Now that we've got you talkin' again, let's go through a couple of questions. See if your dogs are still barkin'" He leaned forward. "Alright, I'm gonna say a word and you say the first thing that comes to mind. Dog."

Courier closed her eyes and let the whirl of images and feelings of comfort and excitement wash over her until she found the right word. "Train," she responded. Doc nodded and scribbled something in the notebook.

"House."

Security and warmth enveloped her. "Shelter."

"Night."

A mixture of wonder and fear crept through her. "Dream."

"Bandit."

Like a shot, a memory flashed in her mind and was gone in a whirl of checkers. "Reasonable."

"Light."

She smiled, something cunning yet humorous coming to mind. "Dark."

"Mother."

"Caretaker." Courier felt comforted and didn't even hesitate.

"Okay. Now I've got a few statements. I want you to tell me how much they sound like something you'd say." Doc flipped to a page in the book and adjusted it slightly in his lap to read from it. Courier shifted in her seat, preparing herself for the statements, wondering what she would find out about herself.

"Conflict just ain't in my nature." Doc looked up at her from the book. Passive and objective, he waited patiently for her response. Courier chewed on the inside of her cheek for a minute, then nodded.

"Agree."

Doc nodded and read another. "I ain't give to relying on others for support."

Courier thought about it. She thought about being alone and felt a twinge of coldness, regret. "Agree," she said with less enthusiasm.

"I'm always fixing to be the center of attention."

She cringed slightly, with a little laugh. "Strongly disagree."

"I'm slow to embrace new ideas."

Courier shrugged. "Disagree." Doc wrote some more in his notebook.

"I charge in to deal with my problems head-on."

She felt it in herself as an absolute truth. The hesitation told her exactly what she wasn't like. "Strongly disagree."

Doc nodded again and set the book aside. "Almost done here," he pulled the strange looking cards out and held one up. It had weird blotches of ink all over it. "What do you say you have a look at this? Tell me what you see."

Courier studied the ink blotch carefully for a minute, tilting her head one way then another. "An oozing wound? I don't know. It kinda looks like an ant actually."

Doc laughed. "It's okay. These are highly interpretive but very useful for me. Just answer as honestly as you can. Next one." He set a new card in front of the first. This one had new blobs on it and again, she studied them, before blushing wildly. Doc laughed. "It's okay. Just tell me what ya see."

"I'm too embarrassed to say what it looks like." Courier laughed sheepishly. Doc chuckled again before replacing the image with yet another ink blot.

"A mushroom cloud." Courier shuttered but felt much more confident with this one. Then something sparked in her. A memory. A real one, one she could see clearly. Posters hung up all over the place with warnings and precautions. "Vault 13!" she said excitedly.

Doc looked at her with a little surprise, although he also seemed please. She kept going. "Vault 13. I remember it. That's where I grew up!"

"I knew it would start coming back." Doc smiled. "Soon it'll be like you never forgot."

Doc was right. Within a week, the amnesia proved to be only temporary, like a bad dream. She was even able to start introducing herself to the townsfolk of Goodsprings with her name—Myina. During her recovering, Doc gave her a place to stay, food, and even some of his late wife's belongings. She felt guilty at his generosity, but he brushed it off and told her it was nice to have the company around again.

To earn a few caps of her own, Doc pointed her towards Sunny Smiles, who showed her the ropes of the town. Myina worked to re-cement her skills at shooting with an old rifle Sunny lent her. She would often help to curb the gecko problem in town, which allowed her to at least bring some food back for her and Doc.

It didn't take long for the local gossip to get the best of her curious nature and she found herself on the doorstep of the abandoned gas station up on the hill. A tall handsome young man answered her knocks and she could tell by the way he was angled that he had a gun pointed at her on the other side of the door.

"That's close enough. Who are you, and what do you want with me?" he snapped.

Myina looked at him innocently. "I'm not the enemy if that's what you're asking."

He looked her up and down. That's right. Do I look like a damn Powder Ganger to you? She raised an eyebrow at him and patiently waited for his decision. Finally, he took a small step back and let her in.

The room was dimly lit by an old lantern on the counter and empty cans and boxes strewn the floor. A bedroll and duffel bag occupied one corner, surrounded by ammo boxes and bottles of water.

"Sorry about the gun. You just caught me off guard is all." He cleared his throat nervously. "We got off to a bad start. What do ya say we start over with a friendly game of Caravan? You know how to play?"

"No." She lied. Myina was well aware of the game caravan. She was also well versed in how it could help you to really get to know someone. She had no doubt that's what he was trying to do. Pretending not to know how it was played would not only gain his trust a little—teaching a person something seems to create this weird bond, she'd noticed over the years—but it would also give her a clean slate to read him from since he would be trying to hide his technique with her.

"You never did tell me your name, by the way." She ventured.

"I have a feeling you know my name already, or else you wouldn't have come to an old gas station." He played a Jack on one of her caravan cars, knocking it out of balance. So he was smart and patient. Definitely a plan-ahead type of person. Interesting then that he'd be holed up here, when clearly, this was no way to deal with his current situation.

She inwardly sighed all the same. She'd have to get rid of that one and start a new car. "True. But I felt like it was polite to hear it from you." Myina tucked a King gently under an eight on one of his cars to double the preceding ten, causing him to grumble. He might be able to think ahead in some cases, but he's not very good at handling unexpected events. That could explain a lot.

"Ringo," he said studying his cards. "My name is Ringo."

"Did you know that's there's a man named Joe Cobb after you?"

Ringo stared at her, deadpan. Myina kept a pleasant exterior as she gracefully discarded her bumped car and placed a new starter down.

"Yeah, I know." Ringo flicked a six down on top of his second car. "He doesn't look very tough, though. I hear he's afraid I'll shoot him down from one of the windows when I see him. And he's right."

Myina could hear the determination clearly in his voice. She was convinced he could and would do exactly that.

"I'll have a much bigger problem once his friends show up, though." Ringo continued. "There's no way I could handle them all in a gunfight."

And there it was. The thinking ahead that she had read off of him. It was true. Even if he was a good enough shot, the Powder Gangers were exactly that, a gang. They'd never let one of their own handle trouble by themselves and they would certainly seek some revenge should one of their leaders be picked off.

"So what are you going to do?" Myina asked as she placed a five down on her third car.

"I'm going to lay low for as long as I can, assuming the town doesn't throw me to the wolves. I've got no chance against the gang on my own." He looked worried, like he knew his time was running out. She couldn't blame him. A lot of innocent lives of the townsfolk would end up caught in the middle if the Powder Gangers decided they wanted him taken care of. And he knew.

"Maybe I could help." Myina offered as she doubled a ten on his second car, putting that one too, in the red. The corners of his mouth twitched in annoyance.

"We'd just end up sharing the same grave if it's just the two of us." He snapped, throwing his hand down. She'd won. Laying low and quietly sneaking up on her opponent, that was always her tactic. She looked up at him, direct and steady.

"And the towns people? What about them?"

Ringo sighed. Then he perked up a little. "You know, if some of the other people in the town were also on board..."

"Ringo—"

"No, wait, hear me out. The Powder Gangers are gonna set their sights on this town sooner or later with or without me. If they take a stand now, show them they can handle themselves, maybe the can make just enough of an impression to stay out of their sights for awhile."

Myina rolled the idea over in her head. He was right. Goodsprings was a small town, sure, but it was a resource hub. Chiefly for clean water. She'd heard about the conditions at the NCR Correctional facility from her boss. They were not the greatest. And the Powder Gangers weren't known to be open to trading. They might not be as bad as fiends, but they still weren't the most civilized group in the wastes. Mynia looked at Ringo and nodded.

He breathed a sigh of relief. "Look, you're a better talker than I am and the people of the town trust you a little more. Start with Sunny Smiles. She's been friendlier than most around here."

It didn't take much to convince Sunny to help out and Doc was willing enough to help out as a medic. Trudy rallied some of the sturdier townspeople to gather arms. Myina had a tougher time with Chet and Easy Pete, but after some arm-twisting and explosives training respectively, she was able to turn them around.

After a few days, when the town decided they were ready, Easy Pete had one of the younger townfolk help him lay out mines strategically across the road where the Gangers were sure to come from. Chet helped Sunny and Ringo push some crates and carts into a barricade while Myina did a weapons check with Trudy and the others. Finally, it was time. A messenger was sent to the edge of the correctional facility where a few of the prisoners were known to hang out, and told them that the town was willing to give up Ringo.

It worked like a charm. In twenty minutes, Powder Gangers came out of the west and the first hint of trouble blew two of them off the road before they realized what was going on. Trudy shouted and the townspeople opened fire. By the time the prisoners were able to wrap their heads around what happened and collect there were only a handful of them left, but they were armed with SMGs and dynamite.

"Get down!" Sunny shouted as a stick of dynamite flew past her head. Myina grabbed Easy Pete and his helper out of the way just in time as Chet's porch splintered and sent daggers of wood flying towards them. Chet yelled, "GODDAMMIT!" and threw himself out in front of the barricade shooting mercilessly at the last of the prisoners. Myina, Ringo, and Trudy only stared on with eyebrows raised as he panted in anger as the last of the bullets flew.

Chet turned around and cleared his throat when he saw them all staring. Smoothing out his shirt he stated simply, "I built that with my own two hands." They all laughed timidly until a whimper caught their attention. Myina looked over to see Cheyenne crouched next to her master, who lay in the road bleeding.

"Sunny!" Trudy yelled, as the trio ran towards her. Myina called out to the bar where Doc was holed up, "MEDIC!"

Sunny coughed and groaned. "Damn Gangers. One of 'em caught me in the shoulder. Got distracted and didn't see him comin'. Was stupid of me."

"No, no, baby." Trudy cooed. "It happens. You hang tight kid. Doc's on his way."

Myina held her breath for the next five hours. Miraculously, no one else had been seriously injured in the gun fight. Getting the drop on the prisoners, especially with the use of Easy Pete's explosives, had been a huge help. So Doc was able to dedicate most of his attention to performing surgery on Sunny while Myina busied herself tending to the minor wounds of the townspeople. Ringo, for his part, stayed by her side, fetching her supplies and bandaging people under her supervision.

With everyone patched up and Sunny still in surgery, Trudy poured Myina and Ringo a drink. She could barely concentrate and Myina ended up pouring a drink for her as well. The three sat in silence, sipping whiskey, until Doc finally entered the bar, looking tired and worn out.

"She'll be just fine." Doc smiled, patting Trudy on the arm. "She's a tough little biscuit, that one."

"I never expected anything less." Trudy said, her chin pointing out in defiance. But Myina could see the look of relief flooding her features and how it shook the poor woman.

Ringo breathed a sigh of relief next to her. "I'm glad she's okay. I couldn't have stood it if someone had died on my account."

Myina shoved her shoulder into his, her lightheartedness having returned the moment Doc gave the all clear. "Nonesense. It wasn't for you, it was for them, remember? You were just the one to get the ball rolling. Besides," Myina turned to him in seriousness, "I don't think they'd have made it out of that as well as they had without your help."

Ringo smiled at her. "You too. You're an excellent shot. So is Sunny. I never thought I'd see the day when I'd get out played at my own game."

"Now, now," Myina grinned, "jealousy doesn't become you."

"That's not what I—" Ringo tried to say, but Myina pulled him up to his feet.

"Let's go cowboy. You owe me a dance."

"I do, do I?" Ringo looked at her.

She only smiled back, "Let's call it some of your payment."

Myina pulled him to the open area of the bar as the radio crackled on. Trudy and Doc joined in as some of the townspeople looked on.

By the time two weeks had gone by, Myina was confident in herself again and had a small collection of caps to prepare herself for getting back out on the road. She was a little hesitant to leave, between her new-found friends and the comfort and security of the town, but she had some loose ends to tie up and a score to settle that was burning a hole in her stomach.