She woke to an immense amount of pain in her head. A throbbing, pounding pain like the worst hangover in existence. More pain than she thought she'd ever felt before. But... when she thought, she couldn't think of a time before. Or anything, for that matter. Her whole life up to that point was a big, empty space in her brain. Except one, small detail. A name. Hers, maybe. She wasn't sure.

She had no idea as to where she was. She wiggled her fingers, then her toes. Everything seemed to be intact, despite the pain.

She tried to open her eyes next, and immediately regretted it. A bright, bright ceiling with a fan spinning round and round assaulted her eyes and she closed them. She decided next to sit up, but as she did her blood rushed and turned the pounding pain into a stabbing and pounding pain. She winced.

"You're awake? How 'bout that." A voice said, quietly and with a undertone of amazement. She forced her eyes open again, deciding to deal with the consequences rather than be caught unaware. She willed her eyes to focus on the source of the voice. She saw an older man, with receding hair and a bushy gray mustache and wearing overalls. She moved to stand, but he jerked forward.

"Whoa, easy there. You've been out cold a couple of days. Took a couple of shots to the head, but I took care of it for ya." She blinked at him.

What were the odds she'd be shot in the head within distance of a doctor qualified to save her life? Whoever she was, she was damn lucky.

"Let's see if there's any damage… How about your name. Can you tell me your name?" She thought, and the pain intensified. God, she hoped this wouldn't continue for long. She had things to do, places to be… or at least she did, before the bullets.

"It's alright if you don't remember." He said, softly. "Your kinda injury often makes people forget."

She thought of the one thing she remembered. A name. But was it her name? What if it wasn't? Should she still take it?

She shook her head, and made up her mind. It was the only thing she had left to claim. She'd claim it.

She opened her mouth to tell him, but nothing came out. It startled her. She tried again, and was only met with more pain. She scrunched up in pain, and the doctor stood up.

"Easy. Don't hurt yourself now." He went across the room. "I have a pencil and paper here. Think you could write it out?" She nodded. She'd try.

He brought it over to her at a slow totter. His hands shook slightly as he handed them to her with leathery hands, spotted with age. She took the pencil firmly in her hand and put the tip to paper.

Her head screamed at her as she wrote the letters. Her hands refused to work properly. By the time she finished the first word, she needed a break. Tears streamed down her cheeks. The doctor saw and looked at the paper.

"Audrey, huh?" She shook her head. There was more. She forced herself to write the last name. Her hand shook, and caught the paper. "Audrey Booth. Well, now. That's a fine name." He smiled a yellow, toothy smile at her and gently patted her leg. "You remember anything else, Audrey?" She shook her head. "The bullets you took hit the frontal lobe of yer brain. I'd wager you have some sort of aphasia. Broca's maybe. You seem to be able to write okay…" They both glance at the paper. Audrey can't believe she wrote it, not a young child. "We'll test your readin' later. Could be you might get some of that speech back some day. Don't know for certain." He stood up. "Why don't you lay back down and get some more rest while I scrounge up somethin' to eat." Audrey nodded. The pain had left her head some, and left her feeling drained. She laid back down and closed her eyes briefly.

"Audrey."

The same voice gently roused her. She made a guttural noise in response, and he scoffed a little.

"Sound just like my son." He jokes. "Here, somethin' easy. Easy as it gets nowdays, anyways." He handed her a plate with a small amount of meat, a good helping of beans, and some sliced apple. She sat up slowly and took it from him. Her hand shook as she took it and she nearly flung it everywhere. She would have if the doctor hadn't seen it coming and held it firmly.

"I see your motor skills ain't what they used to be." She opened her mouth again, but remembered and settled for a nod. "Here, set it beside you while ya eat." He handed her a spoon. "Them beans might get a little messy, but you'd best eat as much of 'em as ya can. They've got some good protein in 'em." He opened a bottle of water for her too. She took it eagerly and took a deep drink. "Careful, now," the doctor warned, "don't drink it so fast. Slow sips." She pulled the bottle away and made a face. She picked up a piece of apple and guided it towards her mouth. It hit her nose, first. She frowned and pushed it down into her mouth, and bit. It crunched satisfyingly, and she groaned as the juices reached her tongue. The doctor just laughed.

"Once yer done there, I've got a couple tests I'd like to run. No hurry, though." He left her to her food.

He was right about the beans.

Audrey ended up wearing more than she ate. It frustrated the hell out of her that she couldn't even do this one simple task.

The doctor came back in and grinned at her.

"Don't you worry. Those motor skills will come back with time." He sat across from her, holding a small pack of papers. "Ready?" She nodded. He handed her the paper and the pencil again. "It's important that you're relaxed for this next test, so take a deep breath and try to calm yourself." He shuffled the papers a little. "All right. I'm gonna say a word. I want you to write the first thing that comes to mind. Dog."

She wrote cat.

"House."

Shelter.

"Night."

Dream.

"Bandit."

Avoid.

"Light."

Dark.

"Mother."

She felt a light pain in her chest as she wrote the word.

Regret.

She handed him the paper. He poured over it for a moment before he looked up and handed it back to her. "Okay. Now I've got a few statements. I want you to tell me how much they sound like something you'd say." She nodded. "First one. 'Conflict just ain't in my nature.'"

She wrote disagree.

"I ain't given to relying on others for support."

Agree.

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

No opinion.

"I'm slow to embrace new ideas."

Disagree.

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

She blushed as she wrote. Strongly agree.

"Almost done here. What do you say you have a look at this? Tell me what you see."

She stared at each picture and frowned when she had to write out sentences. Her head hurt the worst when she finished, and she was glad to be done.

"Before I turn you loose, I need one more thing from you. I got a form for you to fill out, so I can get a sense of your medical history. Just a formality. Ain't like I expect to find you got a family history of getting shot in the head." She groaned internally and reached for the form. It was a wonder he was able to read any of what she wrote.

She handed him the paper again. He looked at the paper.

"Yep. If there's no history of anybody bein' mute in yer family, and you weren't before, it's most likely aphasia." He put the paper down. "How're you feelin'? I ain't gonna make ya leave if you're not feelin' up to par." She shook her head. She wanted to lay back down and sleep some more.

She pointed at the bed. He laughed softly.

"Alright, lay down and rest. You're gonna need it." She laid her head on the pillow again and tried to get comfortable.

She watched the ceiling fan spin until her eyes grew heavy.

Not long later, Audrey left Doc Mitchell's house with her previous belongings, a Vault 21 suit on her back, and a promise to come back if her head started to hurt too much. He'd decided she shouldn't leave town yet, definitely not alone.

She winced at the sunlight. It was brighter than the room had been.

Goodsprings was small. She could see the saloon the doc had told her about, where Sunny Smiles was. She had apparently offered to help Audrey out. With what, she didn't know.

She walked to the saloon, and her ears picked up the sound of something metal moving around. She turned, and saw a large metal construct, coming straight at her. She would have screamed if she could.

"Well, looky there." The machine had a southern drawl. An odd thing for a machine to have, but fear had snuck into Audrey's legs and she wasn't listening as much as she was planning an escape route. "Howdy, partner! Good to see yer still kickin'." She relaxed as she observed the machine's odd-but-welcoming, peaceful nature. The doc had mentioned she had two rescuers; what he called a Securitron, and a man. The man he'd not been able to give much information about, other than a rough description and the instructions to talk to Trudy, but the Securitron he'd described pretty well. Audrey was sure this was it, standing in front of her.

Audrey stared at her hands. How would she ask the robot questions? She had her paper and pencil, but she doubted the Securitron could read her horrible writing. She tried to communicate to him her question; 'Where did you find me?' He made no move, other than the flickering of the cartoonish cowboy on the screen in his chassis. She sighed loudly and felt tears come to her eyes. She was trapped in her own body, completely able to comprehend the world around her but unable to participate in it or communicate with others. It frustrated her, and it scared her.

"Oh. Oh, now, look here little missy. Don't you be cryin'." The securitron comforted her. It felt strange. "Why don't you take a deep breath now, and try again."

She did, and the Securitron stood there, all the same. She was about to give up when it spoke up.

"Oh. I see what yer gettin' at now. I found ya up at the old bone orchard. One of them nice NCR types had run off them bad eggs that shot ya and dug ya up. He handed you to me and I hauled ya off to the doc right quick."

So her other savior was NCR. Whatever that meant. She excused herself from the securitron's company to look for Sunny. Maybe she would know where this NCR man was.

Audrey walked into the saloon and looked around. It was dim, but homey, almost. Music played softly from a jukebox in the back corner, and the air smelled somewhat smoky. She heard voices to her left and walked that way, and found a dog sitting in her way. It barked loudly at her and she stumbled back. She saw the bar and scrambled on top of it. She couldn't explain her fear, but she felt deep down in her stomach that dog equaled death. Or pain, at least.

"Cheyenne, stay." A woman said, sternly. "Don't worry. She won't bite unless I tell her to." That didn't make Audrey any more at ease. "Really, it's okay. You can get down…" She looked up and saw two people sitting at the bar, one in a booth and another behind the bar. All of them were looking at her. Her cheeks flushed with heat as she hesitantly got down. She looked at the woman who spoke. She seemed to be shorter, like Audrey was, and had brown hair. She was sitting next to a man, one in a green beret. Audrey wanted to talk to him, but the woman drew her attention first.

"I'm Sunny, Sunny Smiles. You must be the courier from a few nights ago. Doc said he'd send ya my way if you pulled through. I guess you did… well, there's a thing or two I could show you. Sounds like you need all the help you can get after what they done to you. Meet me outside, behind the saloon." Audrey nodded and followed after Sunny. She turned to the man.

"I'll be back in a while, Adam."

The man grunted and went back to his drink.

Adam watched the two women round the corner, and heard the door open and close. He sighed.

So she pulled through. He huffed. Kind of amazing. She was barely alive when he'd pulled her out of that shallow grave. She was covered in so much blood, he couldn't tell where the blood ended and the girl began.

"You did a mighty fine thing for that girl, Adam." Trudy said as she wiped down the bar. Her radio sat next to him. He'd yet to take a look and try to fix it from the incident with the men he'd chased off two nights prior. "If you'd have been any later, she may not have made it."

"Yeah." He sighed. He wasn't sure why he had done it in the first place. She looked green, too green to be wandering the wastes alone. Sunny would only be able to teach her so much, and if she went out again, she wouldn't survive the next bullet to the head.

No one's that lucky.