A grizzled old woman hopped (as much as a grizzled old woman can) up and down for joy at the sight of three recognizable figures off in distances, their silhouettes eclipse the heavy sunset behind them as they strode quickly towards her rickety old house. When they were within twenty feet of her she stood still breathlessly, a huge smile on her tear-streaked face, and clasped her hands. Her boy was home!

The young man looked at her sheepishly before being nudged towards her by the woman with him - the same woman she'd hired to go after the Legionaries who'd stolen him roughly a week before. She paid little mind to the young woman and her companion though. She was too busy wrapping her arms around her gawky teenage son. Suddenly she pulled away and looked him over seriously, her lips pulling into a thin line as she scanned over every inch of his exposed skin.

"What's wrong ma?", the boy asked his elderly mother nervously.

"Shush Darren", she quickly replied, lifting his arms up to poke at the underside.

When she was satisfied with her inspection she cupped her son's face in her wrinkled hands and smiled once again, beaming back and forth between the young man and the pair who'd brought him back to her.

She walked past her son with his hand in hers - an uncomfortable gait for the boy as he was at least a foot and a half taller than his mother - and stopped in front of her child's saviors.

"Bless you! Bless you both! You brought my Darren back to me with barely a bruise or scratch on 'im! He's all I have left in this world, and since the damn Legion stole him I just haven't known what to do! I'm too old, too frail to go get him m'self, an' ah don't even know where to look to find someone who would go against the Caesar to get my son back without asking for more than ah could ever stand to own! Please; take this. It's everythin' ah've made in the last year, but it's the absolute least ah kin give y'all for bringin' my most precious possession back to me!"

She expected them to snatch up the caps, tell them both "You're welcome", and be on their way; but the young woman merely pulled her Rattan hat backwards on her head to expose her face more, revealing a kindly yet slightly embarrassed smile. Though her face was fairly delicate in features, her grin reached ear to ear across a prominent smattering of freckles, and a thick lock of dark red hair hung past her chin. Her face was dirty and had more than a few cuts, bruises, and scars on it - but that smile made her glow like rad-pool and somehow soften her rougher features, making even the reinforced metal armor she was sporting seem comforting.

Her companion was a bit more of a contrasting figure, however. If the young lady was a bright, sunny, friendly sort of folk, then her friend by her side was a completely blank shade of grey. Sunglasses hid any emotion in his eyes, and his lips not so much as twitched with a tilted grin at the sight of the family reunited. The girl may have been heavily armored, but he was heavily armed. She wondered what a man like that was doing wandering the Mojave with a cheery, angel of a girl like her.

She remembered her own late husband of course, and how she'd ended up with her dear Darren. Opposites attract.

"Ma'am... I really can't be acceptin' any a' that. Didn't help y'all fer the money", the red-head told her as politely as she could with such a heavy drawl.

The old woman lowered her hands and offered a perplexed expression.

"Ah don't have any weapons or supplies ah kin offer yuh instead..."

"Oh, Ma'am you misunderstand! I don't want anythin' from you an' yer boy!"

"Ahm afraid y'lost me sweetheart."

A bit frustrated, she pulled the hat she'd just straightened off her head and held it to her chest.

"I didn't do it fer a reward. I just wanted t'help. Y'know, a lil' good-will n' all that? Reckon kindness builds on each person it touches. Just be sure to pass that kindness on, ma'am, that's all I ask."

The old woman was shocked.

"B- but ah can't just send y'all away empty handed!", she said with a cry.

Her eyes flickered to the sky, already lit up with hundreds of stars in the black desert air.

"Alright then. You won't accept payment. But ah demand that y'all let me feed ya."

Red-hair started to protest, but the old woman hit her with a hard-eyed glare.

"Ain't takin' "no" for an answer you two. Come on inside an' pull up a chair. Darren honey, help this nice young lady set the table. You, Mr. Dark-and-Brooding, kindly help me carry dinner out from the kitchen?", she commanded, leading everyone inside.

Leda pushed herself away from the table and leaned back in her chair. She hadn't had a meal this good - or one she actually got to enjoy - in God knows how long. Even Boone had to admit to himself that it was such a meal that he'd eaten just a bit too much. For such a fabulous cook, this old woman and her son didn't look the part of a family who knew how to eat right. Perhaps it was just a special occasion, getting her boy back.

The old woman slapped the table.

"How'd y'all like my famous bighorner brisket? I hope th' maize casserole was to yer likin' you two!", she cackled heartily, watching the pair with dark, warm eyes half closed.

"Ma'am that was the damned tastiest thing I've ever eaten, I swear t'God! How'd y'learn t'cook like that?!", Leda asked sluggishly yet enthusiastically.

The woman waggled her finger and clucked at her.

"Language young lady; I know it's a harsh line a'work y'got 'n all, but in this house we mind our words! And please Miss Red; call me Cecilia!"

"...Alright... Cecilia. You go ahead 'n call me Leda then. Well, you could call me whatever you want I s'pose, ain't got any preference or anythin' like that. Had an Auntie that use't call me "Thorn the Rose". Mouthful, ain'it? Se said it was on accoun'a me bein' a cute lil sweetheart when I was a lil' sprout, but havin' a bit of a wild streak."

Cecilia smiled widely once again, and she let out a hearty, booming guffaw that sounded more in place on a 60 year old cowboy, not a little old purple-haired 57 year old widow and farmer who couldn't have weighed more than 140 lbs soaking weight.

"Oooooo, darlin'!", Cecilia said as she wiped tears from her eyes, "Alright, Rosey, ain't nothin' special; just somethin' I picked up from my mama when I was around your age. Yer mama didn't teach you t'cook?"

Leda shook her head.

"She couldn't cook to save her life. She weren't around much either, 'specially after I turned 13", Leda answered politely, though a bit more quietly than Boone was used to.

He took notice. Leda could handle her liquor in a capacity to rival Cass (almost), but get a few drinks in her and her overtly-generous-and-kind personality and constant friendly smile melted away if you poked at her with the right questions. At least Boone was always apparently in a mood; no one would take notice if he got more defensive or more quiet than normal, because he was always defensive and quiet. Leda on the other hand? She was genuinely a good person with a heart big enough for everyone in the wastes and the deathclaws too. But even happy people have their memories and moments. Until recently, he'd never even considered that she had some kind of history. He'd let her ask him questions, and when she got too nosey he'd let her know and she'd apologize then give him that sympathetic look that made his stomach clench - but he hadn't realize that it was dread rather than loathing-of-pity that made him feel that way. Because he'd finally placed a name on that sympathetic look.

It was the look of someone who - rather than just vividly imagining being in your shoes to better understand - truly did understand. And she was too good a person for him to take that something she could have done could ever measure up to what he had to do for Carmen.

And there that question was, chipping away at her plaster-molded smile, encased in heavy red and bordered by rosy cheeks - the kind you get when whiskey stings them like a cazador.

But Leda knew how to mask herself all too well.

"Aw, ain't that a shame! Pretty young thing like yerself'd be able to find a hubby like that!", Cecilia said with a snap of her fingers.

Leda blushed.

"Oh! Or a wife. My apologies if I made any improper assumptions dearie, just a mother's wishful thinkin'!"

"Actually, I wouldn't mind either or, Ma'a- ah, Cecilia. I love me a handsome fella like your Darren there, or a lovely lady such as yerself!", Leda replied innocently.

"Oh, you flatterer!", Cecilia laughed, smacking her son on the back.

The poor boy merely flashed a weak smile on his canyon-red face - and only a little of it was from sunburn.

"If it's alright with you, Cecilia, may I ask about this recipe? If it don't take too long to make, it'd sure come in handy out in the waste. 'Course, I'd never be able to make it like you, but..."

"Oh a'course honey! It's th'least I kin do fer ya! An' if you two are ever out n' around these parts, please; don't hesitate to come straight here for some R&R! I'd be more'n happy t'feed y'all again."

"Aw, yer too kind! Thank you fer the offer. We'll be sure to take you up on it, dependin' on the circumstanc-"

Leda raised her hand to her mouth in an attempt to hide what was coming, but an enormous yawn pulled her cherry-red lips into a gaping chasm. The food, the drink, and the relaxing atmosphere of a little kitchen in the house of a Brahmin Baron's widow was too much, and she couldn't help that she was beginning to melt into a deep sleep.

"Oh, bless your heart, it's already past 10! Honey, won't y'all sleep here t'night? Can't get much done at this time a'night, not t'mention you're all tuckered out!", Cecilia begged.

"Oh, no, we couldn't, I don't wanna impo-"

Leda yawned once more.

Boone looked from Leda to Cecilia to Darren, hung his head a bit, and took a sigh.

"Alright. We'll stay the night. Thank you ma'am", Boone said with his usual monotone expression.

Though he had more control over his yawning, the itis had gotten to him as well. With his stomach full of delicious hot food and fiery liquor, his head felt like it was encased in lead and stuffed with cotton.

"Oh wonderful! If ya'll'll stay here and help Darren clean up, I'll go set up the guest room for you two! Darren sweetie?", Cecilia said delightedly.

"Yes mama, I heard you. How about since you like talking these folks' ears off so much, I go and fix it up instead?", he answered, a little patronizingly.

Just patronizingly enough that his mother smack him on the back of his head with an audible - thwak! -.

"Boy, mind yer mouth and yer mother! Alright Mr. Smartass, git to!"

Darren wandered away from the kitchen with a cocky grin on his face, rubbing his neck lightly.

"I'm sorry about my son, he gets that attitude a'his from his daddy; man was from the Commonwealth after all", Cecilia shook her head, "Gets his looks from me though, a'course!"

Boone and Leda shared a glance at the obvious joke; the only way you could tell Cecilia and Darren were related at all was that they shared an eyecolor that was a very unique shade of aqua-green and the same general boisterous personality - Darren was considerably darker in both complexion and hair color than his mother.

"Now; why don't you two come with me, and we'll set y'all up with a nice nightcap?"

Only, it wasn't "a" nice nightcap. It was three. Three shots of the same whiskey they'd been shooting for four hours - and Boone didn't like to admit it, but he was already swimming before. It's not "manly" to have less of an ability to remain sober than your buddy; you'd think that his reputation for ruthlessness in battle and stoic attitude would already have proved - even to himself - that his uncanny talent for inebriation would be outweighed in terms of masculinity, but no dice.

Leda knew about it though. She'd known for years now, ever since they celebrated the victory at the Dam with a bottle of rum she'd been traded for a couple of stimpaks. And try as she might to play up her own drunkenness to mask his, Boone still stumbled a bit as they followed Cecilia back to the first floor room she'd labeled as the 'guest room'.

"Bless both yer hearts, y'all're completely trashed ain'tcha?", Cecilia smiled embarrassed.

"Iiiiii think we should get that one to that bed you were talkin' about pretty quick here, he ain't got much in the way a'sea legs!", Leda laughed, patting Cecilia on the shoulder.

"-Leda!", Boone mumbled reaching out to touch the wall to steady himself a bit.

"Yeah? Then let go of the wall."

Boone did not let go of the wall.

"Uh-huh. No shame in it honey. Neither does Darren!"

"Mama!", Darren cried from his room at the top of the stairs.

"Oh shush you lightweight! I still love you!", Cecilia cackled, herself tipsier than she'd give notice of freely.

She gestured to a dimly lit room next to the staircase and made her to her own bedroom.

"Thank you again fer th' room tonight!", Leda shouted.

"My pleasure kids! Oh, and I've got a lil' surprise fer ya; that room right down there?", Cecilia gestured to a closed room on the first floor just across the hall from them. "It's a bathroom. A workin', fully functional bathroom. As in, it's got a bathtub and a shower rolled up inta one. The soap ain't nothin' special like over in them hotels on the strip, but it's got a lil' bit of a scent to it, and there's plenty of it. Even got some shampoo!"

From what Leda gathered, that bathroom was Cecilia's pride and joy. Maybe even a little more than her son, she thought with a silent chuckle.

"Lord! How'd you get ahold of scented soap?! Only place I've seen that stuff is on the Strip, in vaults, and the Big Empty! Especially shampoo, I've gotta know how you managed that!", Leda gasped, her jaw dropping and her eyes glowing with the thought of smelling like something other than sweat or animal fat.

"Oh-oh-oh, I've gotta keep some a'my secrets. Let's just say I know a gal who runs a caravan that's signed with the Crimson Caravan, and runs to an' from California every now n' then. As for th'soap, I make it m'self!", Cecilia beamed.

"How the h- er, how d'y'make soap?"

"She's pretty damned proud of that bathroom. What's so impressive about some pre-war tech that most people who manage to live in conditions above a shack in the middle of the desert have?", Boone wondered, growing increasingly bored of all this talk about toiletries.

He was too tired to pay attention to a conversation as menial as soap. He was a bit more relieved than would be normal when he realized Cecilia was walking up the stairs.

"G'night! Sweet dreams! Don't puke in that room or I ain't makin' y'all breakfast!", he heard their hostess shout as she finally left them from atop the stairs, not turning to face them.

Boone grabbed ahold of the doorframe and peered in whilst Leda waved back at Cecilia, oblivious to the fact that she couldn't see her wave.

"Ain't she just the sweetest woman? I can't believe she even offered t'clean our clothes! She's gonna bring some down in a second. So thoughtful!"

"Yeah."

"And the way she talks about that bathroom you'd think it was coated in solid gold!"

"No kidding."

"She even has some clothes she could lend you. Which is great, because frankly you reek."

"Hmm."

Leda turned around and immediately realized what he was so interested in; a single mattress lay on the floor, a pair of pillows and a couple of blankets folded at the end of it.

She gave Boone a look that asked him if he was really unsure of what to do about the situation. She'd gotten very good at reading his face over time, and right now she could see the gears and cogs slowly turning in his mind.

"Y'know we could just set up a pilla' between us if that is such an issue, right?", she said with a smirk.

Boone kept his gaze on the mattress, but nodded and walked into the room. He knelt down on the ground and flopped onto the bedding, face up.

"Graceful."

"Mhmm", Boone replied, folding his hands over his forehead and stretching.

Leda felt along the wall until she found a hook that held the curtain in the doorway to the side and untied it, letting the fabric fall into place with a slight breeze that made the already cool night-air blow against her bare arms and cover them with bumps. She shivered and look around the curtain at her armor, which she'd removed prior to sitting down at the dinner table. She considered putting the shoulder pads back on for the warmth they provided, but decided against it after remembering that they were covered with metal spikes - and she'd be having a bunkmate tonight.

So instead, she kicked off her boots and began to roll down her jeans. She'd already stepped out of one leg when Boone, who had taken notice of the sound of rustling denim, realized what she was doing.

"Hmm. Uh, Leda... What are doing?", he asked a little too calmly.

On the outside, he was mildly surprised. On the inside, his heart skipped a beat at the shock of his closest friend removing her clothes with him right there and possibly watching.

"I'm gonna head for that bath, I haven't gotten a chance to clean up since the last time we were in Novac, somethin' like two weeks ago!", she answered vigorously.

Boone sat up again and groaned at the strain of doing so while drunk.

"I guess I'd better go first then If I want to freshen up myself. You always take forever", he said with mild humor in his voice, heading for the bathroom.

Leda stuck out her tongue, but remained silent. He was right, after all.

Boone wasn't gone for ten minutes, and when he came back Leda could discern each and every scar on what she could see of his body. Adorned in a fresh shirt and a pair of clean pants, and clean shaven from his head to his neck, he seemed a bit lighter in mood and appearance.

"S'all yours", he mumbled, falling back onto the mattress.

"I'm gonna scrub myself so hard, I'm gonna have blisters for a week!", Leda replied excitedly.

"... Just... Don't wake me up when you get back."

"I make no such promises."

Leda returned in just her underclothes and walked over to her pack, and rummaged around the heavy canvas bag searching for a clean set.

Boone hadn't even realized she was back until he heard her lean against the wall with a a soft thunk.

He pried his eyes open just enough to inspect the sound, but he instantly wrenched them open after taking notice of Leda's ass turned towards him as she swayed searching in her bag.

It hadn't even occurred to him he was ogling her, more taking a mental note. Her underpants were cutting into her legs a little, and he could see that even though he always thought she was pale - and even though he'd seen her in her underwear many times before - she was clearly much more tanned than he'd previously taken notice of; starting from her hips to halfway down her thighs she was so pale that you could easily discern the area in the darkness. He realized with embarrassment what he was doing when he looked at her back when she stood up, only to realize that - A.) She was not wearing a bra, and B.) It was so worn and old that it was easily see-through-able.

He looked down at his own chest again before she could turn around. Lucky for him he was red in the face already.

With a jolt, he realized that she wasn't going back to the bathroom to change; he clamped his eyes shut, and with his inhibitions dampened by drink, he mildly allowed his mind the luxury of imaging the scene unfolding in the corner of the guest room.

Cut short by the fact that Leda was a master of changing quickly.

She plopped down beside him on the mattress a few seconds later, around the time he'd imagined she was pulling off her shirt. He couldn't help feeling just a little disappointed.

"You awake?", Leda asked very, very quietly.

"Yeah", he answered a little too quickly.

"Good, 'cause I forget if we'd decided if we were both sharin' the blanket, or if only one a'us was gonna use it."

"I don't remember. But I don't mind if you want to share."

Boone didn't look at her face as he tried to convince himself that he truly didn't mind. He didn't see her briefly smile at him.

She slide under the covers, and lay with her hands next to her head as she faced Boone.

He opened his eyes again, and for a few brief moments their eyes locked.

But he remembered; it wasn't like that between them. It was supposed to be awkward and weird for a man and a woman who weren't together - even two friends as close as they were - to be sleeping in the same bed, much less for them to gaze into each other's eyes. So he pushed through how right it felt, and forced himself to be uncomfortable.

"Is that all you're going to wear to sleep? You do realize that it's liable to get cold enough to freeze BOTH of our tits off, right?", he chided.

"Oh, I like t'sleep undressed when I get the chance. It's more comfortable, and there's something absolutely euphoric 'bout feeling a blanket against bare skin after sleeping in the same clothes you've been wearin' fer a week in a half in a row. Granted, I ain't exactly got much bare skin showing, but..."

Boone stared at her incredulously.

"How can you be so comfortable sleeping like that? Especially with someone else in the bed?", he asked Leda.

She smiled for a moment, quietly contemplating her answer. He prepared for a bad story.

"Well... To be honest...", she flushed.

"Did... Did I ever tell ya 'bout my life? B'fore bein' a courier?"

Boone took a moment to think.

"You told me you were a whore. That much I know", he answered, barring any delicacy.

Leda giggled.

"Hah, yeah. I was with Ms. Goldie for... God, what was it, eight years? A long long damn time. By the time I'd earned enough to buy my freedom-"

"Woah, woah, woah, wait a minute. "Bought your freedom". Huh. I'd always assumed...", Boone interrupted.

Leda gave him a look.

"Eh. Can't blame ya fer that. Most people do. But truth be told, I spent most of my formative years learning to trade. I was 14 and my sister was 17 when our parents hit rock bottom. Ma was a chem junkie, and dad was too keen onner. He insisted she could be saved. But when it came down to it, she saved herself. She made a deal with some kinda scum, a contract selling her two baby girls into prostitution, and her one baby boy into labor. When the men came to take us, daddy didn't know about it. He tried to talk sense into her before she finalized the deal. She stabbed him. Right'n front a'us. I became a woman in more than one way in that whorehouse. Desensitized me to the whole horror of it, which I guess is a good thing - Oh, I had a lotta trouble that first year, but one day my sister took me aside, gave me some sage advice; "It ain't rape if y'never say no. She always swore that once she got out, she'd make sure I'd get out too. Well, as her luck would have it, five months later a John took a real shine to her - a damned rich man, but a bit of a righteous bastard. People always liked "Opal" truth be told. Either way, she and her husband stuck around town for a year, and every time she saw me she'd act and look like she had no goddamn idea who the fuck I was. Hell, a month b'fore she and her husband - and their newborn twins - moved away, she started to look at me with the same disgust or embarrassed recognition that nearly everyone else in town did. She never even told me she had babies. And she never did come back for me.", she ended her speech with dry eyes and that same small curl at the corners of her lips - but the spark in her eyes was dead. Somehow, that usual dancing light in those green, green eyes was snuffed out, making them seem black and lifeless.

Boone was speechless.

Leda turned back to him, and with a sudden flash like a cigarette lighter, the sparks were back.

"It wasn't all bad though", Leda said warmly.

"How?"

"There was a John. Well, a Clint really. He came to see me every chance he got around when I was 17. At first I thought I was a good lay, this client who's face I'd never seen around there IMMEDIATELY askin' fer me by m'whorin' name. But when I asked him that, you know what he did? He laughed! Laughed and shook his head. I nearly popped a vein in m'eye I was so mad! But then he held my hand. Didn't lay a finger on me that whole hour. He told me he'd seen me every day out back at noon, washin' the laundry with the other two youngest girls since I was 15. He himself was only 19 at th'time. But he'd sneak out to the barn and go up to the hayloft and watch us do the laundry. He said "Ruby, from the moment you was 15 I've had my eyes on you". He told me he could tell that "Despite me lookin' soft as a Broc flower-petal, I had the tongue of a temper of a Cazador, and the tongue of a Nightstalker"!", Leda laughed.

It was Boone's turn to look incredulous.

"You. Madame "Savior of New Vegas" Leda Orwell... Were considered by literally anyone to be a bitch?"

Leda smiled and nodding, touching her finger to her nose.

"Stone cold. I wasn't always the "Pillar of Society" type you see today. It took a lotta effort t'be the person I am now, and I am damn proud of who she is. I like to think Clint would be, too", she said, seeming a little sad, but still fondly remembering him.

"He died, huh", Boone said decidedly.

Leda looked down.

"No. Yes. Maybe. Truth be told, I ain't got a single notion a' what happened to that boy. One day he told me he was gonna ask Ms. Goldie if'e could pay off th' rest'a my mama's contract, showin' me a satchel full a' caps real careful like, and the next he just... Stopped comin'. I don't think that Goldie woulda had 'im killed - she'd rather take the money she'd be offered, and I wasn't exactly a favorite among the customers. Sometimes I wonder if I loved Clint, or if I simply felt that way 'cause he was the first person in a long, long, long time that'd shown me any kindness."

"I thought you said there was something good about this?"

"There was. See, b'fore he left, he gave me th' single best thing I've ever gotten. He gave me Lucy Anna."

Boone sat still, puzzled.

"Who is Lucy Anna?"

"She was my daughter."

"... You have a kid?", Boone asked after a seemingly endless silence.

"I... Had, a kid."

Leda's smiled dimmed once more. Her shoulders slumped, and she stared at her hands, rubbing them together for warmth. She didn't really want to talk about this, but Boone had told her his sad story despite his own discomfort with regailing the tale. And she owed him as much.

"God, she was beautiful. Had my freckles, my hair - but everythin' else? Everythin' else came from 'er daddy. Same warm tan skin, the color of a shelled almond – hell I even called 'er 'My Lil' Almond'. Same gorgeous grey eyes an' long, thick eyelashes. But Goldie didn't like keepin' girls if they got pregnant. Didn't care what happened to 'em, just lowered their price of freedom just enough they could pay, but not have a cap between herself an' 'er baby. I made sure not to be that stupid though; had caps stashed in th' outhouse. I had enough to come to Novac to have my baby, ironically. But only to have 'er; I had no plans to raise 'er there. Went East aways with th' caravans, settled in a decent sized town. Don't remember what state; just that it was green. I think that was th' first time I'd ever seen green grass and trees, when we were going. For almost two years things were good. Lucy Anna was growing up healthy as a kid can these days, and I took every job thrown my way, from shovelin' brahmin shit, to patchin' up holes on shirts, to cuttin' hair. Even was a lumberjill for awhile. But one day she didn't feel too good after playin' with th' other kids around. No fever, so I wasn't too worried. I brought her to work with me the next day, which wasn't too bad since I was just helpin' some folks with some data entry, and Lucy Anna sat in the corner with her favorite doll and played. It seemed every day she got worse and worse. Within a week she was bedridden. But she didn't die quick. Another week before that. My Little Almond."

Boone didn't say anything. Leda had slumped back on the matress, and her head lolled onto his shoulder. He hadn't even realized she'd moved, but in that heartbroken silence he lifted a hand and squeezed her arm, pulling her closer. Not in a romantic way. In the way an old man might his elderly wife; as a show of appreciation. Or in his case, a show of solidarity and comprehension. Sure; he could have patted her shoulder or knee, touched her hand, or just simply nodded. But it wouldn't have been enough for him. His best friend of nearly four years was confessing to having been through something as heartwrenching and horrible as he. At least his child hadn't been born yet; he only lost his wife, and even then it was by his own forced hand. But Leda lost every good thing she'd ever had in that one single life; the only inexorable evidence that the first person she'd ever loved existed, the only family she had and the only family she'd consider so, and inevitably – judging by her story – her pride and joy.

"I came back to Nevada after burying her. Took a job as a Courier", Leda continued, sitting back up, much to Boone's disappointment.

She turned to face him, smiling.

"So now, you know everythin' about me. And we're even-steven."

He fought the urge to hug her. He had a reputation for being stoic after all. And he didn't want to make her uncomfortable, as funny as it was to have that sentiment just now.

So he just tilted his head slightly, closing his eyes a little. He looked beside himself at the empty space she'd left on the mattress, and patted it.

Leda looked at him, a little shocked.

"C'mon. Don't make me ask", Boone said quietly.

Slowly, Leda settled down next to him, under his arm, and they sat for a while in silence. She had almost fallen asleep, her head back on his shoulder, before he said anything else.

"So do you think you'd be able to track him down?"

"Hmm?", Leda questioned sleepily.

"Clint. I guarantee that the two of us would be able to find him If you wanted to."

Leda considered it.

"And do what?"

"I don't know. Tell him all of this."

Leda settled back down.

"I could if I wanted. But it's been nearly a decade. He's got 'is own life, and I've got my new one. I've got a pretty damn sweet setup if I do say m'self", she yawned.

"Yeah? What would you tell him?", Boone asked teasingly, close to falling asleep himself.

"I'd tell 'im that 'e had a daughter. I'd tell him all about 'er, how proud of 'er I was, how beautiful she was... I'd tell him I waited for him as long as I could... I'd tell him that I've done a lotta good out here... With you... And that... I... Love..."

She trailed off, passing out.

And he only half-heard her.