Christine's first thought upon returning to the Mojave was how bright and warm the sunshine was. After months of chasing Elijah from Big MT to the Sierra Madre, clammy coolness had become normal to her. The sun was bright and hot on her skin and she took a moment to savor the sensation.
"It's a damn sight better than being stuck in that fuckin' casino," Six murmured beside her.
The courier's voice startled Christine out of her reflection and she looked over at Six. The man was good and capable, and she was glad she'd been stuck with him. He made a good partner, but outside of their mutual need to survive Elijah's greed, Christine didn't feel particularly close to him. If they'd been thrown together in any other situation, she was pretty sure they would have been friends, but with Elijah hanging over their heads, survival was the most important thing.
She gave him a nod, looking at their hilly surroundings. Her voice wasn't her own, and she loathed the idea of responding and hearing Vera's voice coming from her mouth. The fresh scars still ached, and her throat felt like she'd tried to swallow all the sand in the Mojave. Pain aside, the last thing anyone should have been able to take from her was gone.
"Look, Christine, I..." The courier sounded tired. After all he'd been through in the Villa and then the Madre, Christine suspected he was fast approaching complete exhaustion. "I don't know if you've got anywhere to stay, but..."
Christine paused at that. The Circle probably thought she was dead, that Elijah had taken her down in a final blaze of glory. So much had been inflicted on her during her mission she doubted they'd want her back, anyway. The Brotherhood had their Codex to follow; they'd never accept an exile back into their ranks. Her shoulders sagged slightly. She was alone.
"Y'know the Lucky 38 on the Strip?"
Christine nodded again.
"I got inside. Mr. House gave me a suite in there before I took him out. Me and a few of my friends have taken up living there. It's not exactly paradise, but... If you need somewhere to rest and get back on your feet, you can come with me."
The bald woman surprised herself by considering it for a moment. She already owed the man her life, and the idea of being any more indebted to him didn't sit well with her. Christine shook her head, offering the courier an almost apologetic shrug. She'd managed well enough on her own while chasing Elijah; surely she could do it again.
Six didn't look terribly surprised, only somewhat disappointed. He went through his supplies and found her a rifle and a few cases of ammunition. Christine didn't want to accept them at first, but he protested and reminded her that it was either take it or go without a weapon. He also found a smaller knapsack and put a few bottles of water and some maize and iguana bits inside, handing that to her as well.
She thanked him and helped Six put the rest of his gear back into his bags. They hauled the bags up the steep slopes away from the bunker together, pausing and resting at the top of one of the hills. Christine took a moment to check the sights on the rifle, pleased to find that Six had kept the rifle in excellent condition. Everything was lined up perfectly, and despite being a hunting rifle, she was sure she could use it to snipe if she needed to.
"Raul does good work," Six commented, a ghost of a smile on his face.
Christine didn't know the name, but she nodded politely and tested the leather cord strapped to the gun. It wasn't fraying and seemed sturdy, so she slung the gun over her shoulder and got to her feet, pacing around on the hilltop and trying to get her bearings. A NCR camp was to their north and Christine bristled on instinct.
"Forlorn Hope," Six supplied, following her gaze. "Not exactly the liveliest of the camps, but... I'm planning on camping out there tonight and resting up before heading back to Vegas. You're welcome to join me."
Christine shot him an incredulous look. "They're NCR!"
Six blinked. "So?" He seemed to realize his mistake the moment the words left his mouth. "Oh, no, wait. I guess you wouldn't know about the treaty."
The bald woman paused at the words, unable to believe what she'd heard.
"Friend of mine hated the tension between the Brotherhood and NCR, so I talked to a few people and fixed it up. They've got an agreement to help each other, not use each other for target practice," Six explained, a smile on his face. "Probably one of the better things I've managed."
Christine studied the courier for signs of a joke, raising an eyebrow. "Bull," she decided finally.
Six chuckled. "McNamara was all for it. He signed that paper quicker'n anyone I've ever seen."
The name of the former head paladin took her by surprise, and her shoulders slumped. He couldn't be lying, not if he knew McNamara, but a treaty with NCR seemed too wild to be true. She opted to find out more for herself later, pushing the thoughts aside.
Another silence settled between them and Christine returned to studying their surroundings.
"Brotherhood bunker's about a two days walk thataway," the courier offered, pointing off toward the mountains.
Christine scoffed, then winced at the sharp pain in her throat. "Good for them."
Six gave her a quizzical look. "What, not going home?"
"That's not home. Elijah..." Christine hated admitting it, knowing that she'd failed everyone that had had high hopes for her. "Elijah exiled me. They won't take me back."
"Oh." Six looked disappointed on her behalf. "You sure you don't want to come back to the Lucky 38 with me, just for a while?"
Christine sighed. "Thanks, but... I can't."
Six didn't press her for more, just nodded understandingly. He looked up at her for a moment before he got to his feet, moving toward her and extending a hand to her. "Thanks for not lettin' us get our heads blown off."
Christine tried to grin but the scars on her face were still tight and ached at the movement. "Thanks for taking down Elijah." She shook his hand, surprised when he pressed a compass and a handful of caps into her palm.
Six shrugged, a rueful smile appearing at the corner of his mouth. "Someone had to put a stop to that crazy bastard."
For a moment, the old hatred of Elijah burned fiercely in the pit of Christine's stomach, and part of her hated that she hadn't been the one to put a bullet in the man's brain. After everything he'd done to her, everything he'd taken away, it didn't feel right that she couldn't return the favor. She reminded herself the man was dead and forced the anger away, giving Six a grateful nod.
Neither of them had much to say, and Christine finally backed away.
"Hey, take care of yourself," Six told her. "Maybe I'll see you around."
Christine nodded and headed off into the wastes, not sure where she was going but wanting to put as much distance between her and the memories of Elijah and the Sierra Madre as possible.
=====:=====
It didn't take long for the heat to become unbearable, no matter how welcome a change it was. Christine refused to wish she was back inside the casino, trying to find some shade under various rock outcroppings. It took her some time, but she finally found a shady spot large enough to rest, and fell to the ground gratefully.
Her throat ached and she wasn't sure if the heat was making the tender tissue hurt or if she was just dehydrated, but she slid the pack Six had given her off her shoulders and pawed through it for a bottle of water. It was by no means cold, but the wetness of it still soothed the dryness of her mouth.
The courier's words still hung in her mind, and she wondered where she would go. Elijah was gone, so the Circle had no use for her anymore. She'd only gone there because Hardin had pulled her aside before she left the Brotherhood. The Circle wanted someone that knew how Elijah operated, and they'd told her when she'd taken the job that it could very well be a suicide mission. Her life had already been ripped away from her and she wanted to take Elijah down at any cost, so she just packed up her rifle and took off after the crazed old man.
The Brotherhood had been everything to her. Her parents had both been officers, but she had always wanted to please them, throwing herself into her training with everything she had. Christine's mother was proud and supportive, but it had always been obvious that she didn't want Christine going into combat, though she never said as much. Knowing that, Christine had aimed herself toward the scribe path, and could still remember the overwhelmed pleasure on her mother's face when she was awarded the top spot in her class. Her hard work had paid off and she was well on her way to being a high ranking member of the Brotherhood's Mojave chapter, but then Veronica happened.
Christine shook her head violently, refusing to think about the brunette that had been her everything. She needed to focus on where she could go and how she was going to survive. After all, that was one thing she and Six seemed to have in common: a stubborn will to live.
She drained the last drops of her water bottle and tucked it back in her bag, resting for a few more minutes in the shade. With a grunt, Christine got to her feet and headed south along the highway once more. Her mental map of the Mojave was starting to come back, and she knew she could find a settlement if she stuck to major roads. Having somewhere safe to spend the night sounded nearly impossible after all the nights she'd spent with her gun at her side, waiting for Elijah to have discovered her, but the idea of an actual bed was tantalizing enough to keep her moving.
The sun burned hot in the sky above her, forcing her to wipe sweat out of her eyes every few minutes. Every step seemed to take more energy than she had left, and Christine did her best to ration the water Six had given her. Part of her was ready to collapse when she spotted a guard tower up in front of her. The thought of closer shelter was enough to get her jogging, though the heat only felt more oppressive. Climbing up into the shade of the tower was a welcome relief and Christine sagged to the floor and panted for a few minutes.
The remains of a small town were before her and the crimson garbed skeletons told her this had been a Legion camp. She couldn't quite remember the name of it, but it seemed deserted enough. The bald woman rested for a few minutes before heading down into the camp and scavenging for supplies.
She didn't find much; the camp had obviously been deserted for a while and she didn't doubt that the NCR had taken what they could from the site. Christine started to get irritated but Six's mention of a treaty hung in her mind. Besides, she wasn't Brotherhood anymore; she had no right to hate NCR so much.
Christine just scoffed at herself and headed on, following the road to the highway.
A lone gecko rushed her not long after she got on Highway 95 and she took a few quick shots with her rifle, dropping the creature. She pulled her combat knife from its sheath on her leg, butchering the gecko and salvaging a large steak from the carcass. The thought of eating something fresh and not leftover from before the war practically had her toes curling in delight.
Christine wrapped the meat in the gecko's skin, looking around for something to make a fire with. There was barely any brush around, definitely not enough to start a fire with, but there was the outline of a settlement on the horizon. Christine packed the steak up and headed off toward the silhouette, finding herself grateful when the sun began to dip behind the mountains in the west.
She made it to the settlement as twilight approached. A crudely painted signed welcomed her to Novac, and Christine gave the giant dinosaur a curious look. She didn't miss the glint of a sniper rifle's scope up in the dinosaur's mouth and did her best not to look like a threat.
Christine followed the road and headed into the town, taking notice of the motel immediately behind the dinosaur. Lights from further into the settlement caught her eye, and her stomach rumbled at the faint scent of food. Christine's legs ached in protest, but she started trotting toward the town, heading for the tent the smell was emanating from.
"Howdy," a young woman called as Christine ducked inside. "Hungry?"
Christine nodded, locating an empty stool and settling onto it. A few minutes later, she was served a healthy portion of molerat stew in exchange for the gecko steak she'd cut earlier. It had been so long since she'd had a fresh, decent meal that the bowl was empty in minutes, and Christine resisted the temptation to order more; she'd eaten so fast that having more would only backfire on her.
She thanked the woman quietly, exiting the tent and studying the town. There wasn't much to it besides the motel, and since night had fallen, Christine resigned herself to being unable to explore. Her limbs felt like dead weight as she walked toward the motel and her full belly only contributed to her exhaustion.
The lobby door was open, allowing what little breeze there was to enter the room, and Christine stepped inside to look for the owner. A sleepy looking black man was parading a small dinosaur toy around on the counter, looking up when Christine started toward him.
"Hey there, little lady," he said jovially, leaning over the desk. "Welcome to Novac."
Christine bristled slightly at the condescension in the man's voice, and was for the first time grateful that Vera's voice had replaced her own. The deeper, smoother tone of the starlet's voice would keep people from considering her a child because of her height. "Got a room free?"
The man didn't respond for a few moments, eyes tracing the ragged scars crossing her scalp and throat. There was horror obvious in his eyes, and he only realized he'd been asked something when Christine cleared her throat again.
"Uh, I, a room? Yeah, got a few open tonight." He turned and grabbed a room key, making sure not to keep his back to the scarred for very long. "You're not, uh, gonna cause any trouble, are you?"
It took Christine a moment to realize the man was scared of her; she had avoided mirrors as best she could so she wouldn't have to see her scars, and the thought of looking dangerous was disconcerting. "I hadn't planned on it."
The man relaxed slightly, twirling the key on his finger while he continued to size her up. "All right then. It'll be seventy-five caps."
Christine paused anxiously before remembering that Six had given her some caps, and she dug in her bag for them.
The man watched as she counted slowly, raising an eyebrow when she swore quietly.
"I, uh... Thanks anyway," Christine mumbled. She was twenty short, and she dumped the caps back in their bag, pocketed them, and headed for the door.
"Hold on a minute," the man called, causing Christine to freeze a few feet from the doorway. "I can probably strike you a deal."
Christine was already embarrassed and wanted to get out and find somewhere else to camp, but the idea of a long cold Mojave night was less than appealing.
"I can do fifty caps, so long as you take a dinosaur toy." He held one out to her and grinned sheepishly. "Can't get the damn things off my hands."
The bald woman turned and quirked an eyebrow at the little plastic toy. "... Really?"
"That and some courier recruited our night sniper, so we're not as secure as we used to be. Take it or leave it," he said, a friendly smile on his face.
A few moments later, Christine had turned over nearly all her caps and had both a toy dinosaur and a room key in her hands.
"If you need anything, I'm here all night," the man told her as she left. "Just ask for Cliff!"
Christine wasn't quite sure what to do with the toy; she certainly didn't need it. Still, she had a room, so it wasn't a complete waste. She followed the directions Cliff had given her, sliding the key into the lock and opening the door. The room wasn't much, but it was relatively clean, and most importantly, there was a bed.
She turned and locked the door behind herself before dropping her bag on the chair just inside the door. There was a radio on a small desk and she flinched away from it instinctively, reaching up to finger the collar that wasn't around her neck anymore. She stared the radio down for a few minutes, reminding herself that she was out of the Sierra Madre and safe in the Mojave. Christine went ahead and made sure the dial was set to off before she relaxed.
Christine took a few minutes to explore the little room and wash the dust off of her face before collapsing into the bed. She couldn't quite remember the last time she'd had more than a crude bedroll, and she pulled her boots off and put her knife under the pillow, allowing sleep to take her away.
Years of being caught in dangerous situations had taken their toll, though, and Christine found herself jerking awake at every little noise that managed to filter into her room. She rolled over onto her stomach and reached for her knife, ears straining to hear an attacker. There was nothing but silence ringing in her ears.
Christine let out a frustrated sigh and buried her face in her pillow until she couldn't breathe. Flinching awake because of imagined noises in the dark made her feel pathetic. Even after a few short weeks in the Circle, she'd been a well respected soldier. She was just a shadow of her former self, and she hated herself for it.
She should have stayed in the Sierra Madre where the Cloud would have killed her. Being a cowardly, disfigured shell of a person was not the way she wanted to exist. The Brotherhood would want nothing to do with her, not after her exile, and the Circle wasn't likely to take her back once they saw what had happened. Better for her to fade into history as a good soldier rather than show her face and be disgraced.
Christine wondered what her parents would say if they could see her now, regretting the thought the minute it passed through her head. She'd been dead to them the minute Elijah described her relationship with Veronica. How they felt didn't matter anymore.
She had no life left in the Mojave. NCR had made its intentions known, and the entire wasteland was soon to be swallowed up by the greedy republic. The Steel factions in Nevada wanted nothing to do with her, and she was alone. Tears prickled in her eyes but Christine refused to let them fall. She was supposed to be stronger than that.
A hazy thought entered her consciousness, beginning to take form as she willed away her emotions. If the Mojave held nothing for her, maybe somewhere else would. It had been a long time since she'd studied the Brotherhood codex, but maybe a chapter in California would allow her to join their ranks, despite her exile.
It was worth a shot, Christine decided. If the journey didn't kill her, she'd at least have a chance to join up with a group that she knew she could trust. Being back in the Brotherhood sounded like a dream come true, despite the things she'd observed while chasing Elijah. She was beginning to see flaws in the Codex; protecting people from technology that could save their lives seemed somewhat backward to her. If the Brotherhood didn't hoard the tech and dedicated themselves to making sure the technology wasn't corrupt, Christine knew things like Big MT could be avoided and they would have more friends in the wastes. Hell, they could even stand to take on a few outsiders to help with communication and relationships with outside factions, and it would only help the Brotherhood.
Christine scoffed at herself; she was beginning to sound a lot like Veronica. The wistful longing that accompanied the thought nearly made her lose control of her emotions again, but Christine just focused on pondering acceptance in a Core region chapter of the Brotherhood. She'd joined the Circle, and they were notoriously more strict than the Brotherhood chapters.
The more she thought about it, the more she realized that heading west was her only real hope at a life she'd enjoy. If she wanted to be anything more than a waster with the rest of her life, the journey to the Core region was her last shot, and if the trip there killed her... Christine traced the rough scars across her skin and remembered why she was awake in the first place. No one would miss the shadow of herself that she had become.
Having a goal in mind was a relief; once Elijah had been killed, Christine had felt almost lost and completely aimless. She'd considered spending the rest of her life patrolling the casino, but Six had put an end to that before the thought had finished forming. Now that she had a hope for a purpose, she wished she could go back and give Six a better thanks than running out on him the minute they escaped the bunker.
He was a courier, she reasoned, and he might make trips through the Core region. If she survived the journey and he happened to be in the area, she could figure something out then. The thought soothed the guilt that had risen in her chest and she allowed herself to drift back off to sleep, only to be plagued with vague dreams of beeping collars and the mechanical whirring of Auto-docs.