Author's Note:

This is the first fic I've posted to this site. I've been writing for a few years, but have always been hesitant to upload them online. That being said, I welcome constructive criticism and any thoughts anyone has on this first chapter. Obviously, this is an M rated story that will feature graphic violence and gore, sex, and explicit language. There may be other content warnings in future chapters, so keep an eye out for that. Thanks for taking the time to read my story, I hope you enjoy it.

I do not own Fallout, all rights belong to Bethesda.

A thin veil of smoke wafted across a dim hallway as Boone leaned against the door frame that led to one of the suites in the Tops Casino. Behind him, he could hear indecent carnal noises emanating through the thin walls. He let out a weary sigh, more cigarette smoke billowing in front of him as he did so.
His best friend, Alec, was in the room behind him, nailing some broad they'd met on the Strip. When they weren't doing work, the New Vegas Strip was where they spent most of their time.
Boone had been traveling with Alec for nearly a year. They'd struck an odd sort of friendship when Alec had helped him uncover who had sold his wife, Carla into slavery…

Boone's thoughts were interrupted when a man in a suit stopped in front of him.
"Doesn't that bother you?" the man asked, tipping his head in the direction of the door as a particularly sinful shriek echoed down the long hallway.

Boone shrugged, taking a long draw from his nearly spent cigarette. He'd found himself in this position many times. Of course, Alec had encouraged him to partake as well. Alec's passion for sex, drugs, and alcohol was only rivaled by his passion for helping others. But Boone wasn't quite ready to be helped. Some days, Carla's death seemed like a distant memory, like something from another lifetime. But other days, particularly days when he was being propositioned by many of New Vegas' plentiful prostitutes, it seemed particularly close. He thought about it, sure; he knew it may even be cathartic to bury his cock into some random street whore. But he kept telling himself he wasn't ready… although deep in his mind, he knew he was probably just scared.
Before Boone could humor the man in the suit, he heard heavy footfalls approaching the door behind him. He took a step foreword, turning on his heel as he did so, just as Alec yanked the door open.
Alec was an attractive tall, lean man with a scruffy beard and jet black hair and a strong jaw. Though he was young, flecks of grey hair were interspersed amongst his dark hair, something he credited to being shot in the head and buried alive. Though Alec's story sounded like something out of a pre-war horror story, it was very true. He used his history to his advantage more often than not, easily enrapturing young ladies with his tale of cheating death. But none of them knew what Boone knew; Alec was a very troubled person with persistent night terrors and what Boone could only guess were a plethora of mental illnesses.

In the present, a cocky grin was plastered across Alec's face as he zipped up his pants. "Skipping out again, huh?"

Boone grunted, putting out his cigarette on the stained wall. "You surprised?"

Alec shrugged. "You're too picky."

Boone chose not to take offense to this. He knew his friend meant well, but he couldn't possibly understand the affect losing your wife had on a man.
As the pair approached the elevator, Alec carefully took his red 1st Recon Beret out of his backpack and put it on his head. Their matching berets had been more of joke at first, but they'd quickly become a symbol of their strong bond.
Their friendship was unconventional. Boone and Alec were the same age, both twenty seven, but their personalities were complete opposites. Boone being a withdrawn, introverted veteran, and Alec being an extroverted Courier who never lost an opportunity to be the center of attention.

The air was surprisingly crisp as they stepped out onto the New Vegas strip. The streets were mostly devoid of life, aside from the occasional NCR recruit staggering by. It was just after midnight, and Boone nearly didn't notice Alec stop in the street to stare at the Pip-Boy strapped to his forearm. This was the Alec Boone liked best. His dark grey eyes narrowed, staring intently at the small screen; a drastic difference from the post-coital smile he'd had moments before. His features seemed vaguely sallow in the dim light emanating from the Pip-Boy, his cheek bones seemed a bit hollow, and bags were under his eyes. But maybe it was a trick of the light.

"What's next?" Boone asked, getting Alec's attention. His arm fell loosely at his side as he fell back into stride with Boone.

"Gonna go see the King," he said.

Boone nodded. "Think he'll be happy with you barging in this late? You need to sleep sometime."

"I'll sleep when I'm dead," Alec replied, shrugging good-naturedly.

Boone knew he meant this as a joke, but something about hearing him say the words made him vaguely uncomfortable.
Nevertheless, the pair hung a sharp right after going through the gate toward the North Strip entrance, heading toward the Lucky 38, the previously "abandoned" casino at the Strip entrance. Boone had felt incredibly uncomfortable going into the casino the first few times he'd followed Alec inside… and he still had a strong suspicion it was haunted. But Alec had turned into something of a home for them. Large, clean beds, a fully stocked kitchen, even a pool table. It was their own personal retreat from the nightmarish nuclear Wasteland.
Rationally, Boone knew there was probably no safer place in the Mojave; but something about all of those Secuitrons gave him the creeps.

After they'd ridden the elevator to the presidential suite, Alec paused before heading to the master bedroom. "I'll probably get an early start in the morning. Want me to let you sleep?"

"Nope. Snipers work in pairs, remember?"

Alec nodded, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips as he shut the door behind him, leaving Boone standing alone in the hallway.
Feeling his shoulders dropping slightly, he headed to the smaller suite at the end of the hall.

Boone fell asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow, but he felt as if he'd just closed his eyes when he heard a blood-curdling scream echo into the dark room. He jumped up immediately, sprinting for the master bedroom. If he'd done it once, he'd done it a hundred times, but hearing Alec's screams always put the fear of god into him. In the deep recesses of his mind, he knew Alec was in no physical danger, but that didn't slow him down. Since Carla died, Alec was the only person he really gave a damn about, and seeing him in pain -physical or emotional- always made Boone feel helpless. But after spending nearly every moment together over the past year, Boone had learned many workarounds when it came to dealing with Alec's terrifying episodes.

He flipped the light on as he kicked the door open to Alec's room. It was a familiar sight; Alec's scarred body was covered in sweat as he thrashed, almost as if he was having a seizure.

Boone sat down on the bed next to him, grabbing his wrists. "Hey. Hey! You're okay," Boone said in a loud, clear voice.

"No, no…" Alec's voice was pleading, his eyes screwed shut. "They're in here. They're going to kill me!"

"No, they're not," Boone said instantly, his grip tightening on the other man's wrists. "Alec. Alec! Look at me!"

Alec began throwing his full weight into trying to pull away from Boone. In his mind, he sometimes worried that one day Alec would gain the upper hand and break Boone's neck. Alec was taller, but Boone had a slight muscular advantage.

Alec's screams fully woke Boone as he struggled to keep his grip. "Alec! Wake up!"

Boone was just getting ready to slap him across the face, when Alec's eyes flew open.
The two men struggled to catch their breath as they sat on the large bed.

"Fuck," Alec muttered under his breath, his voice cracking slightly. "Why does this happen to me?"

Boone scoffed. "You have PTSD, Alec. I saw it dozens of times when I was deployed. I've seen hardened veterans cry like children when they get triggered by something… and trust me, most of them hadn't been through half of what you have."

Alec ran a shaking hand through his disheveled black hair, glancing at the Pip-Boy sitting on his nightstand. It was nearly four in the morning.
Nothing Boone said ever seemed to comfort Alec. Behind closed doors, he was a very damaged, scared person. Boone did all he could to help him work through his issues. But it was hard to help someone who didn't want to be helped.

Alec drew a shaky breath as he stood. He padded over to small corner table, yanking the drawer open. Boone sat on the bed watching him suspiciously. Alec returned after a moment with a small silver syringe and a tourniquet.
Boone felt his body go stiff. "Don't."

Alec's eyes flashed. "If you don't like it, leave."

Boone sighed heavily, rising to exit the room. Alec had been in this spiral for a while; but he refused to listen to Boone when he told him painkillers were making things worse. Boone was no doctor, but he'd met his fair share of junkies addicted to the stuff.
Alec had much more medical knowledge than the average wastelander, but it was disheartening for Boone to watch him repeatedly get addicted to painkillers, and then flush his system with Fixer over and over. It was a vicious cycle, and Boone knew it would eventually be detrimental to his friend's health.

After dressing and readying his equipment, Boone propped himself outside Alec's bedroom door, waiting. Feeling impatient, he reached for his ever present security blanket; a crushed, nearly empty pack of cigarettes in his back pocket. He placed the cigarette in the corner of his mouth, his lips pressing into a thin frown as he stared at the lighter in his hand. It was a small silver lighter Alec had given him as a gesture of good faith when they'd first met. It had a tiny photo of a scantily clad woman on it. At the time, Boone had thought it moronic, but after getting to know Alec, it fit him quintessentially.
They'd traveled together for a long time before Alec had gone into detail about how he'd acquired the lighter, and it still gave him chills. Alec had taken it off the corpse of the man who'd shot him and buried him alive… of course, Boone had immediately tried to give it back after hearing the harrowing tale. But Alec had refused; as a result, it had become one of Boone's most valued possessions.

Boone jumped involuntarily when Alec yanked the door open behind him. While his features looked decidedly more relaxed, there was frown etched into his face. Boone stood his ground; this had happened more than a few times before.

"Look Boone, I appreciate your concern," Alec said through gritted teeth, as he walked across the short distance to smash the elevator button. "But I'm a Doctor, okay? Let me handle my health how I see fit."

Of course, Boone had heard this excuse before. Alec usually bounced around a few different ones; "I'm a Doctor", "there's no other way to treat my episodes", "I'm not really addicted to the stuff", or, Boone's least favorite of all, "its none of your damn business".

"I know you are… and a damn good one. And you should know better than anyone this is gonna end badly sooner or later," as Boone finished his sentence, he internally kicked himself as he often did. Alec was much more articulate than he was, and much better at arguing. Any fights they had usually left Boone feeling like a total moron, resigning himself to whatever point Alec was trying to make.

Alec's eyes narrowed. "Well, either way, at least I'll get some goddamn relief."

This caught Boone off-guard. Alec was many things, but thinly veiled suicidal comments weren't something he ever said aloud. Boone didn't know what to say in response, but he felt like he'd gotten the air knocked out of him as the two men boarded the elevator. Boone had never dared to exert the energy into imagining what he'd do if something were to happen to Alec. It was a dangerous road for Boone to travel down, one that usually ended him hyperventilating and feeling like he was having a heart attack.
The elevator ride down was silent and tense, and Boone hated it when Alec got into one these moods. He could only hope that whatever he was planning with the King would put him in a better mood, but Boone was beginning to seriously doubt it.
By the time they'd stepped out onto the Strip, the first thin rays of sunlight were just starting to peak over the tops of the ruined buildings. The streets were still quiet even as they made their way into the streets of Freeside, the poorer district of New Vegas. There was a dominate gang that inhabited Freeside; the Kings. They were easily recognized by their typical garb of blue jeans, white shirts, black leather jackets, and slick, black hair. Boone and Alec were on their way to see The King, the leader of that gang. Alec had been loosely involved with the gang for as long as Boone had known him. Boone also knew that Alec greatly respected the King and considered him a close friend, which meant that by default, Boone did too. Though in his deepest thoughts, Boone had never truly been able to figure the gang leader out. But all things considered, that was nothing new to Boone.

As the pair entered the Kings' School of Impersonation, the Kings' base of operations, Alec stopped short and turned to look at Boone. Boone could still see the residual anger lingering on Alec's face, but he did his best to ignore it.

"Hang out here, will ya?"

Boone nodded his head almost imperceptibly, but he didn't like it. Everyone in this place is armed to the teeth… but rationally, Boone knew he was mere feet away if his friend needed him. But he still didn't like it.
Boone busied himself with a cigarette while he waited, running his thumb over the the small cracks in his lighter, like some sort of worry stone. Some of the various gang members that were skulking around the entryway of the building seemed to be eyeing him suspiciously. They all acted like Alec was some sort of brother-in-arms. Boone knew they were likely wary of him due to his associations with NCR… but Alec had some of the exact same associations.

Well, maybe not exactly the same… Boone thought irritably. He could feel the sweat pooling on his palms as his mind began to wander, as it often did, to the Bitter Springs massacre.
But he didn't have time to dwell on this, because moments later, Alec was striding back into the reception area. Boone caught his eye for a brief moment, before something at Alec's feet caught his attention.
A rather odd looking dog was padding along next to Alec; Boone found himself involuntarily recoil when he caught sight of the dog's head…

"What the hell is that?" Boone found himself muttering before he could stop himself.

Alec scowled at him. "This is Rex. The King's dog."
Often times, after talking to someone with a different accent, Alec seemed to take on the accent himself, and now was no exception; his voice seemed to be an octave deeper and had an odd sort of drawl.
As the two exited the building, Boone took a closer look at the dog; the most distinguished characteristic was the fact that the dog's brain was visible, with a small glass case shielding it from the elements. Under closer inspection, Boone also noticed the dog had various cybernetic parts, like three robotic legs… the longer Boone looked at it, he realized the dog was mostly made of metal. It looked like a freak of nature, but it already seemed to be attached to Alec.

"Rex is sick," Alec continued, bringing his Pip-Boy up to his face. "He's sick. I'm gonna talk to Julie at the Mormon Fort… hopefully she can help him. Or know someone who can."

Alec didn't even offer Boone another glance as he took off, Boone scrambling after him as he always did. It took them less than five minutes to reach the Mormon Fort; they passed it most days on their way into New Vegas. But Boone had never actually been inside.
The Mormon Fort was mostly nondescript; various white tents scattered the log boarders, while various people milled about the center. Doctors, mercenaries, beggars… the people in the place were certainly varied. Boone was wracking his brain, trying to recall what exactly the people at the Mormon Fort were doing, when Alec turned curtly on his heel again.

"Be right back," he said shortly, striding toward a short woman with mohawk, Rex trotting by his side. Boone propped himself on the rough wooden walls, watching from the distance. He fumbled with his back pocket, fishing out his cigarettes and lighter.

Empty. He thought bitterly. He continued to watch Alec, who was in a very animated conversation with the woman who had a mohawk. He could barely hear their voices, but he couldn't make out what either of them were saying. After a few moments, the woman had a sad look on her face, and Alec had a look Boone had seen many times before: grim resolve. Alec nodded, just as another man approached the two. The man was a full head shorter than Alec at least, and had wavy blonde hair and a round face. He was wearing a white surgical coat, just like the woman.
For a split second, Boone thought he'd hallucinated what he saw, but it definitely happened; Alec had done a double take. Boone had seen him do this countless times, usually to hookers, but sometimes random women on the street, definitely to that chick Sarah Weintraub that he banged just about every time they were in New Vegas… but never at a man. Never ever.
The blonde man knelt down in front of Alec and the woman, observing Rex. Boone had no idea how the blonde guy couldn't feel Alec's eyes boring into him, and after mere seconds, a broad grin had spread across Alec's face. He crossed his arms over his chest, and Boone could hear his laugh from where he was. The man stood, turning to face Alec, gesturing with his hands as of saying something very serious. Whatever it was he said, caused the woman to shake her head and walk away. The two men stood alone, seemingly lost in conversation. But eventually, Alec's eyes wandered over the shorter man's shoulder and locked with Boone's. He felt an eyebrow involuntarily raise, and that was all it took for Alec to look away. But seconds later, Alec was shaking the man's hand and walking back towards Boone.
The pair exited the Mormon Fort in silence, but as soon as the heavy door had thudded shut behind them, Boone spoke.

"What the hell was that?"

"No idea what you're talking about," Alec said flatly, but Boone could still see a glint in Alec's eye. "We're going to Jacobstown. Julie said there's a doctor there that can help Rex."

Alec set off in the opposite direction now, heading towards Freeside's east entrance. Boone jogged after him, feeling increasingly exasperated.

"Alec!" He snapped, falling into stride with him. Alec stopped short, eyes wide. He obviously hadn't expected the tone of anger in Boone's voice.

"Look," Boone started again, quieter this time. People were starting to stare. "Do you know what's between us and Jacobstown? A day long hike up the mountains and a known hive of cazadores. Don't you think we should go back to the 38 and regroup? Pack some supplies, and for the love of god, get some armor?"

Alec glanced down at his own torso before eyeing Boone with a small amount of distaste. "Fine. Don't get your panties in a wad."

Boone's eyes narrowed, but he saw the good-natured smile on Alec's face even as he rolled his eyes. By the time the two of them had made it back to the Lucky 38, it was nearly noon. Boone was already formulating a plan to convince Alec to wait until the next day to head to Jacobstown, a mountain settlement inhabited mostly by Super Mutants. He knew Alec meant well, but Boone would be damned before the two of them bounded off towards the mountains, where'd they'd run into god knows what after dark…
As they rode the elevator up, Boone made the decision not to spring his idea until after they'd packed. The more he could delay Alec, the better. But of course, Alec made no delay of frantically rushing about the presidential suite, grabbing random things from drawers and stuffing them into his duffel bag. All of this seemed to confuse Rex, who resigned himself to sitting in front of the elevator, barking incessantly.
Boone gritted his teeth as he carefully unfolded his 1st Recon Assault armor. He rarely wore it, even just looking at it caused bile to rise in his throat. It had been cathartic at the time, divulging the details of Bitter Springs to Alec a few months ago, the massacre Boone had been involved in when serving in the NCR. But even with Alec next to him in silent solidarity, he still felt like a broken monster.
He was so lost in thought, he nearly jumped when Alec appeared at his door.

"Ready?" Alec was now wearing NCR ranger armor, the casual stained t-shirt and jeans he usually wore around New Vegas likely thrown in a pile in the floor of the master bedroom. He was holding the signature helmet in his hands. Though Alec wasn't officially a soldier for the New California Republic, he was still well known and well liked amongst its higher ups. Boone knew well that the NCR wouldn't think so highly of Alec if they'd heard what he regularly said behind closed doors. But Boone found himself agreeing with Alec more often than not about his misgivings.

"Er, Alec…" Boone trailed off when he caught sight of himself in the cracked mirror on the opposite side of the room. Comparing himself to Alec, Boone definitely was… stockier. Broad shoulders, toned muscles… but what caught his attention most was the scruff on his face. Ever since he'd met Alec, Boone had stopped shaving his head. In this moment, it looked particularly odd to him; a head full of dark brown, nearly black hair, and of course all that damn scruff on his face…

Need a shave… he thought, shaking his head to remember what he'd been about to say.

"I think we should wait until tomorrow to leave."

Alec's face quickly contorted into one of annoyance. "Boone, if you'd rather stay-."

Boone cut him off. "Alec, shut up. Do you really want to go up against cazadores in the dark? You know just as well as I that's a stupid fucking idea."

Alec seemed to snarl as he thought it over, before sighing in resignation. "I told the King we'd leave today. But you're right. I know you're right."

Alec kicked the door frame as he walked away, and Boone heard the distinct sound of the sound of the helmet being thrown against the wall. Boone sighed irritably. He just didn't understand why Alec insisted on acting like a goddamn child all the time.
After Boone had packed his Assault armor back into its suitcase and shoved back under his bed, Alec had re-appeared at his door.

"I'm going to see Sarah," he muttered. "Keep an eye on Rex, will ya."

Boone nodded, his brow furrowing. Hearing Alec mention Sarah, the curator of Vault 21, made Boone remember the odd blonde man at the Mormon Fort. Alec had already disappeared around the corner when he spoke.

"Alec!"

Alec's head popped back around the corner, one eyebrow raised.

"What was the deal with the blonde guy at the Mormon Fort?"

Alec's face immediately went to stone. "What do you mean?"

Boone had to fight the urge to roll his eyes. "Come on Alec, don't bullshit me."

Alec put his hands up dismissively. "Nothing happened! He was just some dude named Arcade. Jesus, Boone, I'm a lot of things, but I ain't gay."

Boone frowned upon hearing this. It wasn't like Alec to lie, and Boone knew exactly what he saw at the Mormon Fort. But before he could question him further, Alec had disappeared again, for good this time. But he if he thought Boone was that big of a fool, he had another thing coming. Boone would get it out of him eventually… one way or another.