So, this has been too long in the making. I'm kind of regretting switching to first person for it, I feel like it limits me too much. And telling the story *as* Boone is far more difficult than I thought it would be. This chapter has lots of goodies in it - references to the main story, things that I think some of you might miss...so I'm going to put a cheat sheet at the end for you so you can see just how much I've tried to tie things together.

In other news; I start classes this week! Today actually! So today marks the beginning of my journey to achieve my Masters Degree. I'm pretty excited about it. A little nervous too.

I apologize that this has taken so long to get out...not only has it been difficult to write (It took me forever to edit it to my liking, I did a great deal of revisions), but I've also just moved into a fantastic new house. My internet was actually just hooked up today - I've been without it since the tenth! So I'm suffering from withdraw. Tonight, after class - of course - I shall settle down and play some Saints Row 4. Just picked up my copy today.

I have some great ideas for the next chapter - so long as I don't forget them between now and when I start writing on it. I think everyone will enjoy it. Hopefully you enjoy this chapter too - I tried to capture some sentimentality with Boone's recollection of his first meeting with Carla while also preserving his no-nonsensical dialect. It wasn't easy, but I'm fairly confident that I managed to pull it off.

Enjoy.

Everything.

Twice she'd received that answer in just as many days.

That's what this Carla was to him…his words had echoed Six's own when she had inquired about Cass. It was something she couldn't truly understand. She couldn't understand because she'd never felt that way about anyone.

And, as far as she knew, no one had ever felt that way about her.

Was it even possible to love that deeply? History…a slew of bad relationships – and calling some of them relationships was a stretch – told her it wasn't. Unconditional love existed only in storybooks and fairy tales. The kind of tales her father told her when she was a little girl…before the harshness of the world set in.

Her father had done what he could to shield her from her mother's life. And she loved him for that…but in time, she realized it was all bullshit – if love is what made the world go round, why the hell hadn't she ever met her mother? Why did her father steal her away and never look back? To protect her? She was happy with her life…she was happy with the Khans. They were her family. And they could do far more to protect her than her father ever could.

Not to say anything bad about the old man, but the wasteland is an unforgiving place.

She began asking questions…about her past. About the woman she had never met; which, in turn, brought her to the Khans. But, by then, it was too late. Her mother had since passed. She lay somewhere in the Mojave Desert in an unmarked grave along with the rest of the Khans that the NCR had slaughtered that night.

Fuck, it could have been the man sitting next to her that pulled the trigger and she'd be none the wiser.

Her stomach was convulsing, she had to fight back the raw emotion choked in her neck at the very thought. She was angry…so unbelievably fucking angry.

Angry that she never got to meet the woman who brought her into this world. Angry that despite the fact she was born to a Khan, she had to undergo their vicious initiation rituals – had to prove herself to earn a spot amongst them. And, make no mistake, she had earned that spot – Papa trusted in her, perhaps more than any of the others; save Regis. And what would they think now? If they saw her sitting next to this man? Next to the enemy…and what would he say if he knew that what made her angriest of all was the way this NCR soldier felt about his betrothed.

Scratch that. What made her angriest…what made her burn inside with such fury like she had never before experienced was the fact that she had never felt that way. And it burned her inside that, at this very moment, the person she wanted to feel that way with was sitting next to her reminiscing over a love long gone.

Maybe it was that look on his face…maybe it was the alcohol. Fuck! It had to be the alcohol. She felt her stomach twist in a wretched knot – one that made it difficult for her to speak.

"Tell me about her," She managed to force out.

Boone looked up from his glass. He was quiet for a long moment – then he plopped the glass down on the table and rested his forehead in the palm of his left hand.

Yeah, she was angry at a lot of things, and reasonably so.

But not at him.

At the NCR, yeah…but Goddamn. Not at him.

There are two types of people in this world; those that leave an impact in your life and those that flicker away without ever having really impacted anything.

How they impact you and to what degree is another matter. Some leave footprints in the sand. Some build castles.

Some build empires and some burn them down.

Others…well, they bring life to the desert. Change the very world beneath their fingertips. Some do it without ever even knowing it.

I've only met two people with that power – the power to change the world around them.

Carla was the type of person that shined so bright that she eclipsed those around her. She had these ambitions…these dreams that seemed too big to be real. To her, we weren't living in a ravaged world. Like she believed the world could be like it once was.

I've heard people say they were born in the wrong time…my grandfather used to talk about the old west, like in the history books. He used to say that he was a cowboy at heart…talk about living in California before the war. Before the United States. A simpler time. Panning for gold and living off the land. He'd get so lost in it…a silly grin spread across his weathered face.

Carla was like that. She didn't belong here…she belonged in another time. A better time.

She had this gift…she drowned out the past and all the horrors of the world. When I was with her, I could forget. I'd get lost in moment, you know? Like nothing else in the world existed.

I met her shortly after the incident at Bitter Springs. We were on leave…Christ, we were spent; all of us. Killing a man isn't the same as killing an animal. Killing someone who means you harm is one thing…but Bitter Springs was a different beast all together. You don't know what it's like…at least, I hope you don't. And I hope you never have to find out. Feeling the kick of a rifle and watching a boy, little more than a child, slump to the ground.

It changes you.

So when we put in for a leave request…well, save Gorobets and Ghost…Dhatri pushed it through.

See, Hanlon came to Dhatri – offered to promote him to Major. In recognition of valor and excellent leadership, he says. I think it had more to do with the fact that Dhatri had lost damn near everything. Something good had to come his way…he's a good man. It was his due. In turn, Dhatri knew we needed space. We needed to get away. It took a couple weeks, but he got us our leave.

Gorobets was on the fast track to a promotion…so he hung back at McCarran. Dhatri began briefing him on his new duties…since he was being given helm over First Recon.

Ghost transferred out almost immediately after the incident. Started training with the New California Republic Rangers. Sterling made that happen. Reached out to a man named Jackson…didn't take him long to convince him that Ghost was worthy. Not that he needed much convincing – her record spoke for itself.

Anyway, we put in a leave request…Layla, myself, and Manny. Sure, Manny wasn't there…but no one was about to deny him his request. We'd just gunned down members of his tribe…his family. That kind of shit takes a toll on a person. Manny tried to brush it off…and for the most part, he did. But you could tell it took something out of him.

It was Layla's idea that we go to the Strip. Not that the idea was revolutionary or even out of the ordinary. Manny and I had talked about headed to up a little shack up by Lake Mead for a bit of fishing. But she wasn't exactly comfortable going into Vegas on her own. So we reluctantly agreed…and it's a good thing we did…

Otherwise…

I've never been big on mingling. When we got to Vegas, Layla made straight for Gomorrah. She was eager to drown her sorrows…more than that really. She wanted to forget having ever joined First Recon. It didn't take her long to do it either. We started off in the casino's bar…Brimstone, I think it's called. Something like that. Layla sat around with Manny and I for a while…she's an attractive woman though. So it didn't take long for some poor schmuck to make a pass at her. An officer as a matter of fact. She was quick to slip the beret off his head…replacing her crimson with an officer's green. Left her first recon beret on the table and took off with him.

Last time I saw her…kept her beret though. I intended to give it back to her if I ever saw her, but that never happened. I ended up giving the beret to someone else.

Manny and I sat there watching the women dance for who knows how long…then he suggests we just get a room for the night. I had the cash, so I didn't much care. It was getting late, and I was tired. So that's what we decided to do.

We were halfway across the bar when I saw her. She was sitting with two other women…a brunette, kept her hair in a neat little bun…and a blonde. The blonde was with an NCR soldier. Corporal White…I'd seen him around Westside a few times. He was good friends with Ghost…aspired to join the Rangers himself, but never quite made the cut.

Carla stood out…like I said, she always did. I'd never seen anyone like that…her hair swept around her, not strand out of place, the color of golden honey. And her eyes lit up the room – a kind of seafoam green that reminded me the pacific. Of home.

She had on this pink dress…I'd seen other women wearing them around the Strip before, but hers was somehow brighter. Cleaner. I don't know.

I read somewhere once that the way you look at the one you love is different from the way you see the rest of the world; hormones in the brain or something. Your guess is as good as mine. It changes the way you see them. I'm not sure if any of that's true. I don't know if love at first sight exists…but part of me believes it does. I'll tell you now that when I saw her, she's all I could see. Tunnel vision, I suppose. And I could feel every heartbeat, every breath I took. Felt like my heart had crawled up into my throat and settled in for a good night's sleep. My stomach twisted up and folded in on itself.

I guess she sensed it…or could see it. She looked at me from across the room, coy little smile on her face. She took a sip of her drink and kind of rested her chin on her palm.

Maybe it was the liquor or the way she looked at me, but I had trouble keeping balance.

There was another man there…a heavyset balding man with a scratchy voice. He was trying to convince them to work for the Casino…promised them money beyond their wildest dreams.

From the look of it, her friends were buying into it…but not Carla. As Manny and I passed the table, she scooped up my hand.

"Darling, did you get lost?"

She was on her feet almost instantly. Leaned in close, and we shared our first kiss. Then she turned to the bald man. "Sorry honey, I'm taken."

And she pulled me to her table…I didn't resist. Partially because her eyes begged me not to. But mostly because I just didn't want to. She pulled me to her chair, practically sat me down, and climbed into my lap.

When I sat down, the bald man, Omerta thug named Cachino, just kind of looked at me with his mouth agape. He stood there for a minute, then finally told them that they didn't know what they were missing out on.

"We'll take our chances, honey." Her voice was soft. A kind of elegance that had long been forgotten by the rest of the world.

When he left she thanked me…told me she owed me a drink and asked me my name. She wasn't interested in my rank. Wasn't interested in my preference either. When I told her my name was Boone, she laughed at me.

"What'd your mama call you, handsome?" She asked me.

So I told her.

"Craig." She repeated it softly. I liked the way it rolled off her tongue. It felt right. "Well, Craig. I'm Carla."

We talked for a long time…or rather she talked for a long time. It suited me fine, I never really knew what to say.

She was a local girl. She talked about growing up in Vault 21 – about meeting her best friend, Jo, while she was touring the vault. How Jo talked her into pursuing a career on the Strip. She hoped to find work in the Aces…they all did. They just hadn't caught a break yet…so for the mean time, they were dancers in Zaora. Cachino wanted them to leave Zaora and come work for him…in the courtyard.

Carla wasn't interested. She said that the type of work that he was asking was for someone with no future or a chem addiction.

Manny took an instant disliking to her…never really gave her a chance. Not sure why. She was kind to him…bought him drinks, tried to set him up with her friend, Jo. He wasn't interested…he only seemed to want to get out of there. So I told him to go.

I sat there with her a long time…through the night and into the morning. Long after her friends had turned in and the employees changed shifts.

She told me about her dreams and asked me about mine. She wanted to raise a family…wanted two kids; boy and a girl. Wanted to settle down somewhere nice and grow old with the man she loved.

They were good dreams.

She asked me to dance…I didn't know how. She said that it didn't matter. Blue Moon…our first dance was to that song.

I made a fool of myself that night. Dancing with two left feet. But for the first time in a long time, I forgot about everything. I forgot about leaving home. I forgot about not being there when my father passed. Forgot about hauling Dhatri's boy's corpse away from the dam that night.

I forgot about Bitter Springs.

I slept soundly for the first time since I had joined the NCR. Slept with her curled up next to me, arm around my waist and head on my shoulder.

A week later I asked her to marry me. A week with her was all I needed to know that I didn't want to spend a single day of my life without her. We were at the Tops…in the Aces Theater. I requested a performance…an old man, he sang Blue Moon. I didn't have a ring…I gave her my dogtags.

Eighteen days. That was the duration of my leave. I met her on my first day on the Strip. We married on the tenth. A little ceremony out behind the Tops. By Crocker no less...our marriage was recognized by the Republic.

Sometimes I wonder what would have happened if I hadn't gone into that casino that night. If she would have grabbed Manny's arm instead of mine. Some nights I wake up and I feel like it was all a bad dream…I feel like she's still got her arm wrapped around me and her head on my shoulder. And every so often, I wake up because I can feel tiny kicks against my side…those small feet pushing against her belly. It takes me a minute to remember where I am. To figure out what happened.

When reality sets back in, it's always so cold. Like the world turned its back on me. I remember she's gone and I remember she'll never come back. And that's something I'll have to live with for the rest of my life. Until whatever's out there pulling the strings decides that I've served my time and comes to take me away.

"Tiny kicks?"

"Yeah," Boone poured himself another shot. With a quick gulp, he pulled it back and slammed the glass down. "She was pregnant."

"Carla? When you met her?"

"No. The baby was mine."

"I don't understand? She left you?"

Boone grunted. "Left?" He took a breath. "I guess you could say that."

"Maybe she'll come back one day?"

"No…" Boone shook his head – the corners of his mouth curling downwards. "Legion took her…right out from under my nose. Came into town in the dead of night…"

"Then we go after her," Melissa said, sitting upright. "We get her back."

"No. We can't."

"Why not? We got Cass back, we can get her back too."

"She's dead."

"You don't know that. Some slaves live a long time."

"She's not a slave. She was never sold."

"How can you be so sure?"

"I just know, all right?"

Melissa swallowed. She looked at the broken man sitting across from her at the bar. His back slouched and his shoulders hunched. Suddenly she remembered sitting on that mountainside. How he had turned pale and buried his face into the palm of his right hand.

How he'd been so determined to save Cass when he'd discovered she had been captured.

What was it she had asked him?

Was the Legion too good for his bullets?

And then it hit her. Like being charged by a Bighorner.

Atonement. Everything he did…he did because he was trying to find absolution for his past sins.

It was so obvious to her now. Bitter Springs was not the only massacre he had been a part of.

It was her turn to feel her heart beat. She felt each breath she took and her face flushed. A lump settled in her throat.

The Brotherhood woman was right…she had no idea what this man had been through. But she was beginning to see. Clearer than she could have possibly imagined.

As Boone prepared to pour himself another shot, she reached across the bar. She sat her hand on the bottle and pushed it towards the countertop. Then she grasped Boone's hand with her own.

"I'm so sorry."

He didn't look up. He didn't speak.

For a moment she wasn't sure he had even heard her.

Then he closed his hand around hers.

I hope everyone enjoyed this chapter. I put a lot of hard work into it...I think this one has been the most difficult to write yet. Again, I'm sorry it took so long to get to you all. Life happens sometimes though, and I don't have the time to write that I'd like.

I've had some great reviews these past couple weeks. I really appreciate all of the encouragement you all have left. This is officially the longest I've ever worked on a fiction. The total length

of the 18 Karat Run series has exceeded 175,000 words (and that's not counting my pre and post story ranting). And we're only about halfway through the series!

Now, the cheat sheet (and don't worry, this has no spoilers for the story):
- Layla is the woman Six met (and had relations with) in Primm.
- Her Red Beret is the one Boone gave to Six.
- In game she has a green beret - which is alluded to when she meets the officer.
- Jo, Carla's best friend, is the prostitute Joanna.
- The blonde at the table with them is the prostitute Dazzle.
- White, the NCR soldier with Dazzle, actually has a history with her in game.
- The Old Man who sings at Boone's wedding is the same one in the Fallout: New Vegas prequel comic All Roads.
- The shack Manny and Boone were going to visit is in game: Fisherman's Pride Shack.
- Sterling reached out to Ranger Jackson, the man in charge at the Mojave Outpost - where Ghost is stationed.

Hang in there, people. I've got some good stuff in store for you.