Note: I wrote this for fun but it's panning out a little bit. I'd rather finish FCC but for the meanwhile, here's some other Boone.
"It was a dark and stormy night."
Van scoffed, looking up at Raul from her position on the floor of the Jacobstown lodge. She rolled her eyes at him, at the ridiculous way he'd spoken. The ghoul chuckled and leaned backward onto the couch, staring out the window of the fireplace room, tired eyes watching the pattering of rain on the glass. "You said you wanted a story, boss. You didn't say a good one."
"Not a scary one," Van said, stretching herself out onto her stomach and placing her hands under her chin. "I don't like scary stories."
Raul smiled, absently. "You scare too easily."
"I do not!" she said, defensively.
He considered her for a moment. "How do you survive the wastes," he said, teasing her gently. "If you're scared of everything? The other day you damn near peed yourself over a broken stick."
Van remembered. Raul had stepped on a stick and she'd jumped about three feet into the air, and he hadn't let her live it down since. The whole of it made her annoyed as hell and defensive, and it only got worse when others picked on her about it.
Her face turned bright red in the light of the lamps, illuminating the sitting area with a warm glow. "I bet it's because I'm so badass," she shot back. Raul laughed at her. "What, I totally am! I'm about as badass as it gets, out here! How many people do you know who survived a shot to the head like I did!?"
"I'll believe that when you stop being scared of the dark, boss."
Van pouted, looking down at her hands. She knew it was silly. Couldn't help it, though. Ever since she woke up in Doc Mitchell's house, she'd been scared of the dark. Scared of so many other things, too, she wondered why. She was badass, though. Had risen up from the damn desert and went out looking for that bastard that shot her, killed him. She'd survived this long to get her revenge, hadn't she?
She made a pistol finger and popped an imaginary shot off at Raul, trying to make herself feel better about the situation. Raul ignored her, blinking phlegmy eyes at the lamp.
They were stuck in the lodge until the seasonal thunderstorm passed by. It wouldn't have bothered her nearly as much if Marcus hadn't warned them that this kind of storm lent to flash floods, and Raul concurred.
Van was not content to wait about, but nature had forced her hand. Already all the snow in the settlement had melted with this onslaught. Marcus had given them permission to stay until the storm was over. Courier Six and her companions were hanging out near the old fireplace and Van was getting irritated from having nothing to do.
She'd come up to Jacobstown in order to collect Rex. Part of the job she was doing in Vegas, working with the Kings to make things better in Freeside. The cyberdog was lying on the floor next to her, having a doggy dream, kicking a leg out jerkily. Van put her arm around his side and buried her face in what fur he had left, smelling the leftover residue from the biogel used to replace his brain.
"Ugh, Rex, maybe you should go outside, you stink." She coughed and turned her head away.
"Nah, boss, it'll get worse. You ever smelled a wet dog?" Raul put his foot up on his knee and gave her a look.
"No, actually," Van said, running a hand along Rex's brain case and staring at the activity within. "Never had a dog before."
"Trust me on this one, then. You let him outside... crí a cuervos y te sacaran los ojos." Raul chuckled at her expression. "You reap what you sow, boss," he explained.
Van rolled her eyes and looked over at the other end of the couch, turning onto her side and staring at Boone. Raul had been waiting at the lodge for Van to return from her errands, so she'd brought Boone along from Vegas.
Wasn't keen on being headbutted by those stupid bighorners up in the mountain. Not to mention the damn cazadores 'round the place. Boone was a hell of a shot, but he never wanted to chat. Ice cold. Sharp like the edge of a knife. Van was intimidated by him.
She'd wanted to send him back to the Lucky 38, or back to Novac, because she would probably be down there at some point in the near future to pick him up, but with the storm... now they were stuck with his sparkling personality until the rain stopped.
"You know any stories, Boone?" she asked, even though it was futile.
The sniper was sitting on the couch in such a tense position she wondered how he wasn't sore all the time. Muscles rigid and stock-still. He didn't reply, didn't even look at her. Van sighed, turned herself to stare out the window for a moment.
Abruptly, she flopped onto her back and wiggled her arms in the air, making a frustrated and stupid noise. Rex jerked awake, pushing himself up from the floor. He looked down at her with a passive stare, then moved onto the couch with Raul and placed his head into the ghoul's lap. Van kept the motion up for a moment, then dropped her arms and stared down the cyberdog. "Traitor," she muttered.
Raul laughed. "Patience, boss."
"I'm utterly bored, Raul," Van said, looking up at his pale eyes with her dark ones. "There's nothing to do, no magazines to read, no stories to listen to."
Raul patted Rex's head and stared out the window again. "There's always something, boss. Just have to find it."
Van rolled over the floor and up into a standing position, fists at the ready, punching the air a few times. "I can't think of anything," she whined. "And Rex won't even hang out with me. It's very, very, very boring!"
"You could learn to relax," Raul said. "Take a nap, boss. Rex just had major surgery. If you had, you'd be pretty out of it, too."
Van scoffed again. Like she hadn't been shot in the head. Sometimes she wondered just how much Raul actually believed about her, from what she'd told him. "I guess I'll have to go explore the lodge." She cracked her neck, punched the air again, and dropped her arms. "C'mon, Boone. It'll be boring either way. Let's stretch our legs."
The sniper stood and followed her out of the room, walking quietly behind her as she went up the stairs.
Jacobstown's lodge wasn't what she'd expected, when she'd first come up the road. All the Super Mutants were a surprise, but the snow and the trees―well, she hadn't thought a place like this could exist, in the wastes. It was almost idyllic, settled into the old crater, with a peaceful backdrop and relatively little threat.
The lodge itself was a little too dark for Van's liking. Raul was right... she was on edge, probably more so because of his easy-going taunting.
She felt her nerves fraying, as she walked along the hallway rattling doorknobs and grumbling under her breath. She looked into the rooms that were open, feeling the traitorous unsteady flutter of her heart. "God, this so boring." She opened another door. "There's nothing―"
A strange noise caught her attention from inside. Van looked around the room carefully, then out into the hallway. Sounded like a sharp whining, a little like Rex when he wanted something. Boone stared at her, his eyes hidden behind the sunglasses he always wore.
"Thought I heard someth―" she stopped. There it was again, a wailing noise like something spooky in the room. Van let go of the doorknob, shakily walking to the window. She rubbed the glass with her sleeve and stared out of it.
The rain was heavy enough she couldn't make out very much, and the trees so thick out there it really just looked like a bunch of green and gray blobs outlined by the occasional flash of lightning. Van sighed and peered out through the pane, her hands hooded over her eyes.
Nothing. Just... nothing. The sound was gone. She turned back to Boone and screwed up her face. "I guess we'll just go back down and camp out―"
Something impacted the window behind her. Van shrieked and spun around, backing herself up in a quick step. Boone was in the path of the movement, grunted when she threw herself backward into him. Van looked up at him and took a step to the right, her heart thumping in fright.
The window was empty. Van's heart raced harder against her ribs. "What the hell was that?" she asked, putting a palm onto her chest.
"Didn't see anything," Boone said, tonelessly.
"But you heard that, right?"
"Heard what?"
Van's dark green eyes went wide. "You didn't hear something hit the window?"
Boone looked down at her like she'd gone crazy, and shook his head. Van gaped and breathed a little quicker. "I'm going back," she announced, turning around and walking past him. Boone went to follow, muttering something under his breath.
Another sharp thump against the window, and Van jerked to look―but there was nothing there―and she fought her heartbeat, trying to keep herself calm. What the hell was it? Her eyes were as wide as they could go, watching the window.
Boone coughed lightly as he took up position behind her, his eyes boring into her head. Van stood, frozen in place, her eyes on the grimy glass. Fear ran cold through her veins. Wished she didn't get scared like that. It was so stupid, god!
Some large black thing smacked into the window and Van shrieked, propelling herself into the door. Boone had closed it when he came in―the knob rattled uselessly under her hand, her eyes widening in a panic. She must've said something, her throat vibrated with fear, but all that came out of her was an incomprehensible whimper.
She screamed when the lights cut out, freezing in place again. When she was able to move her hands clutched at the nearest available thing, which turned out to be a surly and not at all amused sniper. Van cursed herself, feeling Boone startle as she tangled herself into him―
"Stop that," he said, trying to pry her hands off his arms.
Van let out a frightened noise and held on as tightly as she could. "Oh, my God," she whined. "Oh, my God, oh my―"
"Calm down, Van." She lost her balance, but Boone steadied her. His hand grabbed her shoulder painfully. "It's just a power outage."
She whimpered and looked about blindly, trying to get her eyes to adjust to the dark. Boone grumbled a little, grabbing at her fingers on his jacket. A crash of thunder in the distance made her jump, her hands jerking away from him and going to her chest.
Another thump on the window. Van's heart exploded in her chest, as she clutched at Boone again in the darkness. She'd―
She'd peed herself. Oh, God, she'd gone and finally done it. Her face burned terribly in the black room, hoping Boone hadn't noticed.
Dammit! Thank God he couldn't see her face as she flushed violently, mostly in shame. A warm sensation flooded into her shoes, and she fought the urge to groan. Why did she have to act so stupid? Van closed her eyes and bit her lip in fear and guilt.
"Will you please let me go?" Boone asked, annoyed.
Her hands were caught in his shirt, somehow. She didn't realize she'd been that close to him, removed them immediately. By now her face must be flooded with blood. Van breathed out, a small noise escaping her throat.
She breathed evenly, trying to calm herself, feeling liquid spreading through the cloth of her pants. She'd have to wait for the lights to come back on before dashing off to change―and Raul would be so full of himself when he heard about this one―she gritted her teeth and willed her heart to stop beating so fast.
"The door is locked," she said. She hated to admit it, but her voice was trembling more than her body was.
Boone moved away, his actions immediately apparent by his own stifled curse and a shoulder slamming into the wood with a loud shudder. After a moment more of the rattling of the knob, he breathed out noisily. "Shit," he muttered.
Van's eyes started to adjust to the darkness. That meant Boone's eyes already had, and if he hadn't smelled the product of her fear he would see it soon. Van moved into the corner away from the window, to the right of the door, and leaned on the wall. Tried to figure out what to do―damn her bladder!
"Can't you pick it?" he asked, his normally quiet voice loud in the stillness of the room.
"No," she answered, feeling her heart sinking. "I... I never figured it out. Besides, I don't have any bobby pins." She crossed her legs over one another and felt cold. What had seeped into her jeans was now cooling off, chafing against her skin. She closed her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest and made a face.
"Shit," Boone said again, moving to and kicking the door. It shivered in the frame but held solid. They were stuck until someone noticed them, unless...
"I―" Van shuddered again. "Guess we'll have to yell for help." God, and then everyone would see that she'd―she winced.
Boone made a noise. Van's eyes popped open, looking sideways at him. "Don't think you want to do that," he replied. He turned to face her, in the darkness.
"That's dumb, why not," she shot back. This was the most chatty he'd been since she helped him in Novac. Made her wonder what was going on.
She could feel the heat coming off his body as he moved closer to her, a solid wall of muscles towering over her in the dark. A monster, looming over her. Her imagination would run wild with those thoughts if she let it and she didn't want to, but...
She shuddered, involuntarily. Dammit!
"Yeah," Boone said, his voice taking on a fraction of emotion in that he sounded―dare she say it―like he was laughing at her. "Scared, again."
Van sighed in frustration. "I wish I could stop, but I can't, Boone. Okay? You guys win. I'm a fucking scaredy-cat. I went and peed myself, finally. Go on and laugh, get it over with. Christ!" She braced for impact, then.
Boone was quiet for a moment. "Did you, really?" he asked, curiously.
A faint scratching noise came from the window. She spun her head at it, eyes staring. "Goddammit," she hissed, her face on fire. "I did, okay?!"
It was very dark, even if her eyes were adjusting to it―damn her overactive imagination―Boone moved away from her, rustling in the dark, as she wondered how her head hadn't exploded from the sheer amount of blood flowing through her face. A light flared into existence, illuminating the room with an eerie glow. Van breathed a little faster, trying not to whimper.
"There," he said. She glanced over at the lantern, seeing his face lit up by the pale yellow light of the lantern. He smiled at her, oddly enough. A quick grimace of a smile, but a smile nonetheless.
"You need to change your clothes."
"I know that," she muttered, tightening her arms across her chest. "Sheesh."
"We won't be here until you dry out." Boone moved across the room, pulling off his rifle and dropping it onto the bed. He considered a wardrobe for a moment, then opened the doors.
Van could only stand there, embarrassed as all hell, her face turning the color of a ripe apple and socks slowly absorbing what had traveled into her shoes.
"There isn't much else to do, is there?" she snapped. Her teeth ground against each other as she spoke. "What are you―why would you even―nnngh!"
Boone chuckled, dryly. "Not the first person to piss themselves out of fear," he said, quietly. He continued to look into the wardrobe, then shot her a glance over his shoulder. "Been there."
"Have you," she said, trying not to let her acidic tone soak into her like other liquids were.
"Yeah," he muttered, reaching into the wardrobe and pulling something out.
"Seriously? I have a hard time imagi―" Van closed her mouth. It was hard to imagine the sniper losing his calm composure as much as that. But... if he'd been that scared once, and turned into this? Maybe there was hope for her, after all.
"First time I saw combat," he said. "Here." He moved to the corner and shoved something into her chest. She felt the cloth, realized it was clothing, and blinked in confusion.
"I―" she sighed. "Thanks, Boone, but I'll smell like―"
"I'll turn off the light," he said, tonelessly. Back to the cold attitude she was so used to. The lamp flickered, then shut off. Van made a small noise. The bed creaked, and she could see a shadow sitting on the edge of the mattress.
She'd―augh, she'd screwed it all up, right from the beginning. What she was seeing right now was a whole different side of Boone, a part of him she'd not known existed. All that had been, before, was the icy stare and clipped words.
This... friendly talking, she hoped, was a sign that Boone was opening up some. She would kill for him to be this nice on an average day. The man was so difficult to understand.
Van moved her feet, kicking off the boots she'd not taken off in―gosh, probably five days, her feet must stink to high heaven―and lifted a foot to peel off her socks, awkwardly balancing the clothing under one arm. She changed as quickly as she could, throwing her pants to the side and hiking up the skirt over her clammy skin.
"Thanks," she whispered, leaning back against the wall. Boone grunted, scratching his head. The sound of his fingers against his scalp was strange in the quiet room.
The rain picked up again, hammering against the window. Van's eyes riveted to the glass, staring at it. What had been out there? What would even be skulking about the upper floor of Jacobstown lodge, at this time of night and in this weather?
"Cazadores," Boone commented, answering her unspoken question and startling her.
"...Yeah," she said, hearing the fear in her own voice. Dammit, Van, she told herself. "Look, uh, you aren't going to tell Raul..."
"No," Boone said, shifting his weight. A light clatter told her he'd moved his rifle, and the creaking noises of the bed echoed through the room. "Going to sleep."
"Okay," Van whispered. "But thanks, Boone."
He only grunted again and laid down in the darkness, leaving her searching the room for something to occupy herself again.