Leah

Boone locked his jaw, obviously torn by some internal battle. Sadly, he shook his head and turned back to me, exasperation evident in his features. "What are you still doing here?"

Startled, I looked up, then chuckled darkly. "Out-staying my welcome, obviously. As usual." I turned to walk out wondering why the cute ones were always so hateful when his hand caught my shoulder.

"Wait," part of him seemed to want to recruit my help. I could tell. Don't ask me how. Call it a sixth sense. He just had the same expression on his face that so many others had summoned moments before begging me for my services. Helping people wasn't always fun or even safe, but it suited me fine. I didn't really have much else to do except find the guy who shot me, as I couldn't recall what my original objectives had been. Sometimes I was inconvenienced slightly by the needs of others, but just seeing someone's life be just a tad less miserable in post-apocalyptia made me feel a little less terrible about everything.

After I rose an eyebrow at him and shifted my weight to my other foot, he sighed and spoke, his voice low and troubled. "I need you to do something for me."

I drew up a corner of my mouth in amusement. "Why would you need anyone to do anything for you with muscles like that? Damn, how'd you get so built?"

Without responding to my comment directly, he continued speaking. "It's not so much a task as… an investigation."

Cheerily, I giggled. "Do I get to play Sherlock Holmes?"

He looked confused for a second, then rolled his eyes. Oh. Duh, Leah. Not everyone shares your love for ancient literature.

"No." He flicked a piece of dirt away from his shoulder. "I need you to find the son of a bitch that sold my wife."

Boone

He expression flashed from amused to horror-struck in a split second. She seemed to be waiting for further explanation. I stayed silent.

Leah swallowed. "Sold… Sold your wife? To who? Powder Gangers? Because I just cleaned out the NCR correctional facility, and I didn't see any-"

I furiously shook my head. I wished it had just been a bunch of spoiled convicts. I could have handled that. "No. Legion."

She was taken aback. "Outdated Romans that can't read correctly and insist on pronouncing Caesar's name wrong?"

I was only mildly surprised. I knew the Legion was going to try to make a push for the Hoover Dam sooner or later. And I'd be ready for them when they come. "Had a run in with them?"

The young blonde leaned against Dinky's cheek. "Yeah. I walked in on them having fun destroying Nipton. Shady town, but they didn't deserve that. No one does." Her face turned triumphant and cruel. "But ED-E and I took care of them. It was some guy called… Vulpes Inculta?"

I had to admit that if she was telling the truth, I was more than a little bit impressed. Inculta had killed more than his share of our soldiers. "He's one of the most highly regarded officers in Caesar's court."

Popping her neck, she murmured, "Not anymore."

I shook my head in awe. This was a girl you wouldn't want to meet in a dark ally at three in the morning.

She glanced up, her sharp blue eyes meeting mine with reckless abandon. "Back to your wife. How exactly do you want to do this?"

I blinked. "Do what?"

"Are we going to charge in and rescue her with no consideration for our own safety… Choose the stealth route and slit their throats while they're eating dinner…I need a bit more of an indication so I know what kind of weapons to get."

Her compassion to save my dead wife was admirable. "Carla's dead. I want the bastard that sold her."

I could practically see the light bulb flicker on above her head. "Oh. Oh, I'm so sorry—"

I cut her off. "Don't worry about it." I kept my eyes down. "Just get me proof of the guy who sold her."

"I—I'll do it, but, why won't you?"

I smirked. Truth was, I couldn't look any of these people in the eye anymore. I lived in constant suspicion that one of them had been the reason my gorgeous wife was dead. But, then, if any of them were innocent, my reason was guilt. Gnawing, crushing, guilt. Some of these people, Carla had been friends with. Most of them, she hated. But if the few friends she had had known that I'd been the one who killed her, I'd have been overcome with the weight of it all. "I have my reasons." I said simply. "When you know who's to blame, send them out in front of the dinosaur, and put my beret on." I offered it to her. She took it, carefully examining the surface of the only symbol of the NCR I bore. "I'll take care of the rest."

"You work nights, I'd assume?"

"You catch on fast."

"That's not the only thing I'm good at." With that vague response, she called to her robot, and set off down the stairs.

It wasn't until she was gone that I realized she'd left without asking for a reward.

Leah

So that's why he was so broody and passive. His wife's dead.

Briefly, in the back of my mind, I wondered if I had any such spouse (preferably a husband, fate…) to come home to. What had possessed me to accept such a reckless job? Maybe it had been instinct. Or maybe I'd needed the money. Or, more likely, I was bored. If my former self was anything like my current self, that seems possible.

And what kind of a jerkwad would reject a mission just because he wanted me dragged through the dirt a time or two? Some pompous courier that thought I needed to be taught a lesson, no doubt. I guessed that wasn't too unreasonable. I figured that if I was this reckless AFTER being shot, my impetuous habits could only have been worse.

My mind was swimming with painful thoughts, and my body was aching from Doc's surgery. I needed a shot of whiskey.

But I knew, with a mental sigh, that I wasn't exactly the drunken type. The fact that I couldn't remember anything beyond that sucked. Hard. Sure, I could recall that I hadn't hit the hard liquor every night, but useful information evaded my every attempt to recapture moments I'd lost.

Some stuff helped, though. I knew my name. 'Lone Star' Leah. Who'd been the genius behind that one? Also, ED-E struck a metaphorical chord on my mind's guitar. But, again, I didn't know why.

It frustrated me to no end.

I sighed and refocused on my current task.

I walked inside the main office that had once, and still sometimes, been used to check rooms out to tourists, and glanced around. It wasn't very impressive, but I didn't expect a whole lot. A desk with a few Dinky figurines, a couple nuka-cola machines, and a weary woman behind the counter.

"Hi there," She said in a heavy accented voice that I couldn't place. "We don't get many travelers this time of year."

I kept my guard up, but made sure to come off as friendly. "Color me special." I leaned on the counter. "What's up with the dinosaur?"

She smiled. Her face looked awkward like that. Like she wasn't accustomed to looking happy. "Before the great war, I guess it was a tourist landmark. But now it's just a sniper tower. Boone's up there right now."

"Oh." I played dumb. "Yeah Manny told me about him. Said he was kinda hateful. What can you tell me about his wife?"

Her face went back to what seemed to be her natural appearance. It suited her better, that world-weary sadness. "Oh, poor Boone. She went missing about… Well two weeks ago. She was—How do I explain it? A desert flower. Real pretty to look at, but too hard to get close to." The woman who was probably about twenty years my senior clicked her tongue. "We all figured she left for Vegas soon as she found out she was pregnant." She lowered her voice, though there was nobody out and about in this time of night. "We don't think the baby belonged to Boone, you see."

That seemed to be all she was willing to say on the matter.

Her story was sound. The same thing I'd gotten out of Ranger Andy and other wandering members of the town on my way to the main office.

And I didn't buy a minute of it.

There was something in the way she averted my gaze, the way her foot shook behind the desk. She was lying through her teeth.

"Well, thanks for the help." As I prepared to exit to speculate the situation further, I made an impulsive decision. "Oh, and I saw something in front of the dinosaur. Would you mind taking a look?"

She stood and walked past me. "If you say so, dear."

Moron. Didn't even wait for me to lead her out there.

After a quick glance around the room, I noticed a safe underneath a battered rolling chair. Skillfully picking the lock, I went through the contents. A few hundred caps (that I pocketed), and a bunch of old receipts. I picked up one near the top, and scanned the names above the salutations.

My eyes widened.