Christine woke early, somewhat disoriented to be in the safety of her hotel room. She got up and nibbled at some of the rations she had in her bag, insides buzzing with anxiety. She was ready to move and start west to see if her new life with a different chapter of the Brotherhood was anything more than a pipe dream. A large part of her was already disappointed and sure that she'd never be allowed to join, but she needed a goal or else she'd lose her mind.
She asked Cliff for directions toward the Core region when she turned in her room key, and he explained as best he could, telling her to stick to the main roads where NCR had cleared most of the dangers. Christine figured that would save the precious ammo she had, so she thanked him and headed out.
It took her a minute to get her bearings, but with the rising sun to her east and the motel owner's directions fresh in her mind, Christine set off down Highway 95, following the old road south. The trip was quiet and the road was mostly empty.
She went on the defensive when she saw an NCR flag, but as she approached it, she saw the devastated remains of what looked like an NCR radio station. Crudely painted Legion symbols stained the walls and corpses were scattered and in pieces throughout the compound. Christine swallowed hard at the sight of the destruction; as much as the scene reminded her of different NCR-Brotherhood clashes in which the Brotherhood were the ones slaughtered, she couldn't find it in herself to appreciate the damage done to the republic's soldiers.
Christine left the camp almost as quickly as she'd come across it, not wanting to disturb the dead or anyone else that may have been watching. A few legionaries were patrolling the road a few miles away, and Christine did her best to sneak past. Luck was not in her favor, though, and one of the men spotted her.
Christine grabbed her rifle off her shoulder and started shooting, jumping behind a billboard and ducking away from wayward bullets that punched through the Pre-war advertisement. The yelling came closer and she swore under her breath, leaning out from behind the sign and shooting at the crimson-clad men running at her.
She caught one in the shoulder, grateful when he dropped the rifle he'd been carrying. One of the others scrambled to grab the rifle, and Christine waited until he'd bent over, squeezing her trigger and watching him jerk to the ground and go still. The other men only hesitated for a moment, which Christine used to hide and reload.
Before she had to worry about the rest of the Legion warriors, gunfire roared through the air. The legionaries yelled Latin battle cries, trailing off into cries of pain as they were presumably ripped apart by the hail of bullets.
Christine wondered if it would be better to press herself into a shadowed niche and wait until whoever had aided her had left, but before she could think about it, something cracked against the back of her skull and she staggered, trying to turn and see what had happened.
A lone Legion soldier stood over her, machete raised high in his hands to deliver a few final blows. Christine tried to pull her rifle up and shoot, but her hands wouldn't quite work. She twisted out of the way as he swung at her, letting the big man go off balance as she pulled her combat knife off her leg.
Her rushed assassin training with the Circle had paid off; she jammed her knife into the first weak area of his armor that she could reach, throwing all her weight into the attack. He yowled and flung his arm out, knocking her away. Christine hit the ground hard, dazed for a moment.
The legionary's breathing was ragged as he turned and pulled her knife out of his side, and he flung it toward her with a snarl. "Retribution!" he hissed, raising his machete once more.
Christine flinched away from the blow that never came, startled to hear more gunfire and the thud of a body falling to the ground.
"Hey, you all right?" Strong arms helped haul her to her feet and Christine tried not to be hostile toward the NCR soldier that offered her a crooked grin that was probably meant to be comforting. "Them Legion assholes nearly got ya. Lucky we were comin' down the road."
Christine nodded, rubbing at the back of her head where the legionary had clubbed her. It was sore, but there was no blood on her fingers. She hated that she hadn't heard him coming up behind her, and idly wondered if she was cut out for combat. Staying a scribe would have kept her out of all this mess, except Veronica would still have been there, just as sweet and wonderful as ever. Christine bit back a sigh and looked at the NCR soldier. "Thanks for the assist."
"No problem," he said easily, eyeing her scars and waving over some of his squadmates. "Need anything for those, uh..." He traced the outlines of her scars on himself, obviously uncomfortable bringing them up the minute he started talking.
Christine shook her head. "They're not fresh. Nothing to do for them but wear them." She turned and found her knife in the dirt, still glistening with blood, and wiped it carefully on the legionary's tunic. Christine slipped it back into its sheath, grabbing up her rifle and slinging the strap over her shoulder.
The soldiers looked at her uncertainly, and one offered her more ammunition.
The bald woman hesitated before accepting it, remembering Six mentioning the treaty and taking the ammunition cautiously. "Thanks." She dropped the extra shells into her bag and tried her best to be casual. "I heard someone talking about a treaty NCR's made. With some, uh, Brotherhood of Steel?"
The soldiers nearest her nodded. "Yeah. Some hotshot courier apparently got an agreement written up between Colonel Moore and the Brotherhood elder. One less guy shooting at us, so I'm all for it." He laughed a little, shrugging at his friends. "From what I hear, they've been pretty harmless since Helios. Must'a put someone else in charge; tryin' to defend that place is hell, 'ccording to my brother."
Christine put a thoughtful look on her face, remembering reading the Circle's reports about the failed attempt to hold Helios. "So they're not a bad group?"
"Nah. Most of us haven't ever even seen a Brotherhood soldier, but I'm glad they're on our side now. The officers still seem a little, uh, uneasy, but I think it'll work out okay." The soldier removed his helmet and wiped his brow, squinting up at the sun and swearing under his breath.
Christine wasn't quite sure what to do with the new information; the entire mindset she'd been raised on was being turned on its head. "Thanks for the help," she said again, backing away. As she headed off, she heard the men muttering about their hatred of the heat and their wish for a nuclear winter.
She followed faded road signs, heading west toward California and the Core region. Once the sun reached its peak, Christine could hardly stand the heat and took shelter in an abandoned farmhouse. The shack appeared to have been untouched for months, so Christine rummaged through the unwanted belongings, pleased to come across some water and a few bottle caps.
There were a few nearly-destroyed books on a shelf, and despite knowing she wouldn't be able to read them, Christine picked one up anyway and cracked it open. The words on the page stared back up at her, all meaningless symbols and jumbles of mismatched markings. She scowled and set the book aside disgustedly, idly wondering if she'd ever be able to read or write again.
Before she left the shelter, Christine cobbled together a lunch out of her supplies, being as sparing she could. If the road so far was anything like the rest of her journey would be, there wasn't going to be much of an opportunity to buy more to eat.
Once the sun had started to sink in the sky, Christine walked out of the farmhouse, following the sun and continuing her journey westward. She made it as far as the charred remains of a town, noticing a few corpses crudely strung up on poles and finding an empty house far from the gory sight. After raiding the refrigerator, Christine went straight to the bedroom and collapsed, her energy having been drained by the heat and the journey from Novac.
Nightmares plagued her, filling her mind with the choking sensation of a bomb collar and the disappointed faces of people she used to love. The collar around her neck started beeping and Christine saw herself look over and spot Six near a radio. She tried to cry out but her voice was gone and someone stepped in front of her. Christine looked up as the collar beeped faster, horrified to see Veronica with Elijah's crazed look in her eye and a detonator in her hand. Veronica simply shook her head and activated the detonator.
Christine jerked awake, gasping for breath. Her hands went to her throat, feeling for the bomb collar that had only existed in her dream. She sagged back against the old mattress as her heart pounded in her chest, doing her best to calm down.
Even after a few minutes, her hands still felt shaky, so Christine got up and padded to the abandoned kitchen, looking in the old refrigerator and managing to find a bottle of alcohol. She took a few gulps and returned to the bed, coughing a little at the burn in her throat.
It wasn't her favorite outlet, but in the dark of the night, Christine took what she could get. The drink took effect soon enough and she managed to drift off to sleep before the sun rose.
=====:=====
Christine got up later than she meant to and by the time she left the charred town, the sun was already hot overhead. In the distance, the mountains stretched up into the sky, just the beginning of many on her trip to the Core region.
As she walked, the desert flattened out and dust began blowing in hot winds. Christine could make out an old road heading up the mountain, still littered with Pre-war vehicles, and aimed herself toward it. An already paved road would be the easiest trip across the desert, and if nothing else, an old car could provide some shelter.
Her mind made up, Christine cracked open a bottle of water and guzzled some as she crossed a dry lake bed. It was only thanks to the wind dying down that she heard the scuttling noise of a soldier ant.
Christine pulled her rifle off her back and fired a few shots, skirting around the burst of flames from the insect's mouth. It only took one shot for the bug to be taken down, and Christine kept her eyes peeled, picking up the pace until she climbed out of the lake bed and onto the paved road.
High above her at the top of the hill stood two metal statues clasping hands. Christine had a vague memory of the statues being built, remembering hearing about a small NCR checkpoint there. She considered stopping to rest before starting the climb, but saw a few radscorpions off in the distance and thought better of it.
Her legs were burning by the time she reached the top and she was gasping for breath. The size of the compound before her surprised her; she'd been expecting little more than some semblance of a gate guardhouse, but a full blown military base was fenced in beside the remains of a toll station. NCR troops were milling around and talking in small groups, most safe behind the fence surrounding their barracks and offices. Beyond the camp was a large gate with a lone guard standing watch.
Christine took a moment or two to catch her breath before walking through the camp as casually as she could manage. She kept her eyes on her goal, walking toward the gate and doing her best not to draw attention to herself. The guard eyed her as she approached and she forced a smile. "Need a fee, or can I just head on through?"
"Sorry," the guard said with a sympathetic shake of his head. "Orders are no one goes through. No caravans, no travelers, no one. We're all stuck out here until Colonel Royez or President Kimball says otherwise."
Christine's smile disappeared. "I'm not an NCR citizen," she protested, cut off by a shake of the soldier's head.
"No one goes through." He gave her an apologetic shrug. "Orders are orders, ma'am. Sorry."
The scarred woman wanted to retaliate or force her way through, but being on her own in the middle of an NCR camp was enough to make her pause. The heat only sucked the energy out of her and she mechanically thanked the guard and turned away, walking back toward the compound.
Her only shot at a future was over before it began. If she had felt lost after Elijah died, it was nothing compared to what she felt now. Christine had nowhere to turn, nothing to do. Her head was spinning and she felt somewhat like she couldn't breathe. She found herself wishing vaguely that she hadn't turned down Six's offer so quickly; a little time to figure out what she was going to do sounded nice. The Strip was a few days away, though, and Christine was sure she'd never make it onto the Strip without some sort of connections or more caps than she could imagine.
"Hey, you okay?" someone asked, catching her arm as she stared off into the distance. Christine jerked away on instinct, and the trooper that had caught her arm raised his hands in surrender. "Sorry. Didn't mean to startle you."
Christine opened her mouth to respond but no words came, so she just snapped her jaw shut and shook her head dismissively.
"You look like you could use a drink," the trooper continued, mild concern on his face. He jerked his thumb in the direction of the barracks. "Bar's in there. Lotta us hate that we can't get through. Easiest way to forget is to drink until you can't see straight." When Christine didn't respond, he offered her a smile. "C'mon, at least get outta the sun. That's gotta be hell on your head."
She rubbed at her scalp absently and allowed herself to be led inside the chainlink fence toward the bar. The soldier was kind enough to buy her a drink and left her there with the glass and her thoughts.
Christine tried to think of herself as a free agent, no longer linked to any specific faction, but she couldn't help but feel the loss of the Brotherhood. The continued stripping away of her identity ached and she began sipping at the drink, attempting to console herself with the hope that the gate might be ordered open soon.