Worries of Her Lover
Rex, the 200 year-old cyborg dog, burst out of the Lucky 38 elevator and into his latest master, Anthony Breznican's, (better known as "The Courier" based on his previous occupation) presidential suite. Anthony owned everything in the Lucky 38 now that Mr. House is dead, so he and the former water merchant standing behind him didn't have a problem with securitrons questioning their reasons for being there. Rose of Sharon Cassidy, the previously mentioned former water merchant and owner of Cassidy Caravans, stepped out of the elevator calmly in contrast to the excited Rex with a cowboy repeater slung over her back and wearing her signature outfit and hat. She made a faint smile when she saw the dog, surprised he was still happy after what had just happened. Maybe it was because this was home sweet home for Rex. That dog was more excitable since Anthony did that brain transplant with that of Old Lady Gibson's dog, Rey. Then the smile dropped again as she thought about it. About him. She worried for him. What if a month was too late? She plopped down onto the sofa in the "Companions' Lounge" as Anthony had called it.
Craig Boone, ex-sniper for the NCR first recon military and recent widow popped his head out of the fridge when he heard the faint sound of a sofa creaking, weary from age. Boone, wearing his trademark sunglasses, Mercenary grunt uniform, and his First Recon Beret high and proud on his head walked into the lounge with a bottle of scotch in his hand. He sat down next to Cass. She just looked away. He motioned the bottle of clear alcohol towards her, offering her some. She just shook her head slowly. He shrugged and kicked his feet up on the coffee table, arms folded behind his head. There was a long silence only to be broken with two words.
"What's wrong?" Boone asked, looking up at the ceiling. Cass sighed. Boone lowered his sunglasses. "Something tells me it has something to do with the fact that Breznican isn't back yet?" Only silence. Boone thought he knew what had happened. "Jesus Christ… So is he… ya know, Deathclaw kibble?" Cass groaned, glared at him, and shook her head. Craig raised his eyebrows. "So where is he then?" silence. "Come on, don't know where your boyfriend is?" he said, slightly amused, still in his dark tone. Cass was pissed now. There was a long silence. Then she spoke up. "He's not my boyfriend." Boone gave a slight smile. "For a sec, I had thought that the Van Graffs caught you and ripped your vocal chords out. So where is he? He needs to restock his fridges." Cass sighed then spoke again. "That's the problem. I don't know. Around 5 pm, his Pip-Boy picked up a strange radio signal. We put out our campfire and headed out. We walked for 2 hours, following the signal. Then he just stopped. He told me and Rex to head back. Said it could be dangerous or booby trapped." Boone looked behind the bed a moment to see the rest of the crew sleeping. Lily, Arcade, ED-E, Raul, and Veronica were all sleeping peacefully. Veronica and Lily had the beds, Raul and Arcade got the sleeping bags, and ED-E just floated around. He then replied to Cass's story. "So what? When has a day gone by that we don't put all our lives on the line?" Cass looked at him. "I was getting to that. When I told him what you had just said, he smirked and said, 'Well this feels like it's gonna be a helluva lot tougher than anything we've ever faced.'" Boone's eyes widened behind the glasses. "Even 'The Second Battle of Hoover Dam?'" Cass nodded. "Remember, we almost lost you there?" Boone sighed then nodded as he looked at the scars under his shirt. He remembered the gunfire, the Boomers bombing the Legion, the casualties. And to think, he was almost one of them when some Legionary Veterans got some lucky buckshots at his chest. He called out for assistance and when none of the NCR medics showed up, he had figured he was screwed. Then he came along. Anthony jammed two stimpaks into him, grabbed Boone's arms so the courier could pull them over his shoulders, and carried his best friend to the NCR Medic tent. Against all odds, they somehow survived the run. Legionaries were shooting at them left and right, and despite all the weight he was carrying on his back, Anthony still used his gauss rifle both efficiently and accurately. Anthony was not only his leader. Or his ally. Anthony Breznican was Craig Boone's best friend. Anthony had done so much for Boone during their travels. With his help, Boone avenged the death of his wife with Anthony's help. They've been travelling together ever since. His mind went back to the conversation with Cass. "What then?" He said in a cool voice. Cass held back her tears and shook her head. "He told me to send a search party if we don't hear from him in a month, but…" Boone finished her sentence. "A month would probably be too late." Cass nodded. "Exactly. I worry about that guy sometimes. He's worried about my safety? Ha! My dad was the toughest barkeep in eastern America, and my mom was a tribal. I ran a damn caravan company and lived this life since I learned to fire a gun and slash with a knife. Meanwhile, that courier managed to get himself kidnapped, shot in the head, and left for dead in a shallow grave. He's lucky to be alive." Boone nodded with a straight face. "He worries about me too. I survived tours with the NCR, my wife and my unborn child were taken from me by slavers and died—eventually. Plus, I got shot by Legionaries. I'll most likely survive the Mojave longer than that delivery boy." Cass's eye widened. "I knew you were a widow, but I didn't know you lost not only your wife, but your unborn child as well. And to slavers? I'm sorry."
Boone had his usual sour look on his face. He looked down. "I hate them…" He said, after a moment of silence. "I was upset I couldn't finish the battle in the condition I was in. I wanted to be the one to personally walk up to Caesar and send him my… 'last regards.' To be able to drive my combat knife through his heart and to rip it out, just to show small and black it is… a perfect representation of his personality and his soul." Boone took off his sunglasses and rubs his eyes. "To deliver a final blow to Caesar's Legion by hanging Legate on one of his own crosses, and to gut Caesar… that would be a dream come true…"
He looked at Cass. "Feel free to stop me from describing my sick fantasies at any time if you need to throw up." Although she looked slightly green, she laughed shallowly and shook her head. "Nah, I'm good. I can hold my whiskey." Her eyes rested on the ground. "Okay. Now I listened to your problems. Will you listen to mine?" Boone smiled, turned the prewar TV on, and said, "Shoot." There was another long silence, as Cass needed to recollect her memories. "Where do I begin?" she spoke softly. "I was born to a tribal and a Bar owner. My dad, John Cassidy, was the toughest and meanest martyr sonuvabitch in the whole wasteland. At that time, the NCR was just starting to grow. It had a few major communities here and there. They actually ended up annexing the area where we lived. But by then, my dad took off and my mother and I were long gone. I was born in the very bar that my dad worked and lived in. It was right outside Vault City, an isolated sanitized community formed as a result of using the G.E.C.K. that was issued to Vault 8. He hated it. In fact, he described it as 'a city full of tight-asses." Boone nodded. "Mhm. Colorful and descriptive mind your old man had there." His voice was full of sarcasm. Cass smiled and continued. "He hated Vault City. But he couldn't leave. He had a heart condition. Vault City was the only place where they offered the medical assistance he needed. Even with that medical expertise, they couldn't fully cure his condition. He missed out on being able to enjoy Jet when it was big in New Reno. The only chems he could take were stimpaks." Craig glanced at her. "So that explains where you got the same condition. He passed it down through genetics." Rose of Sharon nodded. "Right. Well, my mom woke up one morning only to find out that he had closed the bar. He left a note on the door that said that he was sorry, but he wanted to go on one last adventure and he didn't want us getting caught up in it. We were free to use the then vacant bar as a dwelling. I was too young to understand." Cass's eyes started to tear up. "I never got to say goodbye. The old bastard probably either went and got shot up by raiders or captured by the Enclave. Whatever happened, all I know is that I'm 95% sure he's dead." Boone took a sip of his scotch. "How do you know?" Cass took a faded and torn piece of paper out of her jacket pocket and handed it to him. She then said, "Breznican and I found this while exploring the wastes inside a crashed Chryslus Highwayman." Boone's jaw dropped. "A Highwayman? Like, the pre-war car? Highwayman?" Cass nodded. "Apparently, my dad either rode in, or driven one on his 'last adventure,' because that is where I found it." Boone thought for a second. "I don't mean to sound cruel or brutal, but were there any skeletons nearby?" Cass shook her head. "No. Thankfully. After I read the note, Anthony pulled me in for a hug and told me everything was going to be okay. I nearly broke down just from reading the note. I think I would've put a bullet in my brain if I saw a skeleton." Boone gave her a sympathetic smile and began to read the faded and torn note scrawled in yellowed paper, written with black ink in messy handwriting.
Dear Rose of Sharon Cassidy,
Hello, my dearest daughter. If you are reading this, then that means that you are doing well and surviving the wastes. I'm not surprised. (You are a Cassidy, after all.) I wrote this note to explain everything and left it in this here wrecked Highwayman. It is said that you can't stop a Chryslus Motors Highwayman. The Great War couldn't. A band of raiders shooting it up couldn't. But these fuckin' deathclaws just LOVE to use it as a scratching post. We protected it as long as we could, but eventually, we had to retreat. We are now continuing our travels on foot. If you are wondering who "we" is, if you recall the note I left you and your mother, I said I had wanted to go on one last adventure. The day earlier, when I was runnin' the bar, I was greeted by a motley crew of adventurers. One was a nerdy kid, later turns out to be the inventor of Jet. Another was a super mutant known as Marcus. You may know him. He runs Jacobstown nowadays. Stop by sometime and tell him I said 'hello'. There was a robotic dog, created by a man known as Dr, Henry. Speaking of which, tell Ol' Henry I said hello sometime as well. The last was a tribal man. He was their leader, in a way. He wore an old Vault 13 jumpsuit, had a Pipboy 2000. Said something about trying to find a G.E.C.K. so that he could save his village, now known as New Arroyo. He talked me into coming with them for the 'last adventure' I spoke of. Not only did we find a G.E.C.K. but we also got caught up in blowing up an Enclave Oil Rig, and killed the bastard child of an Enclave soldier and a super mutant. That was back when the Enclave was a threat. Anyways, me and the tribal, known by many as "The Chosen One" have been traveling ever since. Anyways, I just wanted to let you and your mother know that I was okay. I love you sweetie.
Love,
Dad. (J Cassidy.)
P.S. If you look in the trunk, you'll find my old shotgun, some ammo, some stimpaks, my tribal friend's Vault Suit (Modified with carbon armor by Myron, the nerdy kid I mentioned earlier. May he rest in peace.) A worn down 10mm pistol, a sharpened spear, and some other supplies.
Boone looked at the note with shock and awe. "Sound's like your old man cared about you." Cass looked at him after taking a sip of her whiskey. "Yeah?" Boone inched closer to her. "Yeah, I mean it's remarkable that he can do all of that, survive, and still remember you. I wish my dad was like that. It appears that we also have some things in common." Cass looked at him quizzically. "And that would be…" Boone whispered into her ear, his cool voice making her shiver. "We both had something taken from us that we loved. Our friend is missing. And we're drunk. Guess what happens next." Before she could answer, Boone locked lips with her. He rested his hands on her slim waist. She started to blush as she kissed him back, their lips moving in perfect rhythm. Boone moved his hands down to her thighs, making her feel hot in her lower region. Cass's face was beet-red by now. She emitted a moan that, admittedly, aroused Boone. He flicked his tongue against her lips, begging for entrance. She allowed him, and their tongues battled for dominance, getting grunts and moans from both of them. Cass began to think of many things, but when Anthony came up, she opened her eyes. She pushed herself away from Boone. Awkward silence.
"I'm sorry, Boone, but I can't."
"Who is he?"
"What do you mean?"
"The guy that you really love."
"How'd you know?"
"I read your movements when you were breaking away."
"Oh."
"Yeah, so tell me. Who is he?"
"It's… It's Anthony."
"Oh, I see."
Cass sighed. She just hurt the poor widow's feelings. "You and Veronica have been getting along. Maybe you can hook up with her." Boone gave a fake smile. "Yeah, that came up as an idea, but I quickly dropped it when I found out she was lesbian." Cass's eye's widened. "She is?" Boone smiled. "Yep. Well, I'm going to go to bed. Wake me up if your lover gets home." Cass nodded. "Will do. Night Boone." Boone squeezed himself into a sleeping bag. "Mmm. G'night. You crazy cowgirl…" Cass smiled as she looked at all her roommates, sound asleep. She looked down at Rex. "At least I still have you to talk to." The faint sound of Rex's mechanical snoring ended that idea. Cass just shrugged and looked at the TV. An old pre-war show was playing. Rerun. Again. She turned the TV off, and turned the radio on. The Ink Spots faint sound began to emit from the radio.
Maybe you'll think of me when you are all alone.
Maybe the one who is waiting for you.
Will prove untrue, then what will you do?
Cass started to feel tired. She covered herself in a worn blanket that Lily had knitted Anthony after helping her out with her and "Leo's" problems. That's probably why Cass loved using the blanket so much. Because it smells like "him". She lay on the couch and as she drifted off into deep sleep, she listened to the rest of the pre-war song.
Maybe you'll sit and sigh, wishing that I were near. Then maybe you'll ask me to come back again. And maybe I'll say "Maybe".
A/N: And that's where I cut the chapter off. I noticed that there aren't any Cass/Courier or Cass/Boone Fanfics (since I last checked.) I also realized that there were none (Once again, since I last checked) that referenced "Dead Money" and/or "Fallout 2." So, I eliminated all of those problems. Your welcome. Until next time, Flipy.
BTW: I don't own Fallout: New Vegas, the characters, Fallout 2, The Fallout: New Vegas DLC (Dead Money), and I don't own the song "Maybe" by The Ink Spots. You know that the listed shit is copyrighted.