Author's Note:
You guys have every right to kick me in the shins if this chapter isn't as good as the others. My grandfather has been in and out of the hospital for the past couple weeks and I've been taking care of him so I haven't really had time to write or do much of anything else. You can really tell this chapter isn't as well put together as the others and I'm sorry.
Despite what the following might hint at – there will be no Boone/Courier romance going on in this story. Sorry if that's what you're into but I don't really think he and Ryn are destined to be anything other than friends.
I'm not going to give up on this story, so if it takes me a while to post a new chapter, forgive me – I'm just dealing with a lot at the moment. Thank you for your support so far! I won't let you guys down! Also, sorry for the cliffhanger, I wanted to get this out before I had to leave for Florida.
Boone distinctly remembered the first time he realized that Ryn was a smaller, younger version of Carla (and therefore untouchable.)
It was a cold November night; the Courier, ED-E and he were taking shelter in an abandoned Jacobstown bungalow. The robot had set a small fire to a pile of ruined books piled high in the fireplace and Ryn pouted slightly at the flames that were providing her with vital warmth. "I don't like burning books."
The Sniper scoffed, "books or fire."
"I mean, I'd rather not freeze to death but books are so important to understanding our past that to burn them is an insult to our intellectual history." The Courier frowned deeply but crept closer to the fire. There was a strained silence where the two humans sat staring at the flames, Boone cleaning his rifle with a dirty scarf while Ryn rocked back and forth slightly. A pot of stew was cooking and the smell had the both of them drooling a bit.
"What's your favorite color?" Ryn asked after a moment of silence. This was her habit, she hated silence, it made her feel uncomfortable.
"Blue."
"Favorite food?"
"Ryn, I don't feel like talking." The Sniper knew this wouldn't stop her from talking but it would keep the Courier from asking him any real questions.
"Well, what haven't I told you about myself?"
What hadn't she told him? Within the first week of their relationship Boone learned that her favorite color was maroon and it made her sad that some members of Legion wore the same shade. Her favorite food was mashed potatoes with ground jalapeño peppers. She hated pre-war food – she swore that one Fancy Lad Snack Cake could make her violently ill, so she had to learn to cook but she couldn't remember who taught her. The Courier faintly remembered dating a boy with one eye; he had given her a pre-war book he found that was about a woman who only felt safe at a jewelry store and she loved it so much she agreed to go out with him on the spot.
Her talkative nature was annoying at first, but Boone adapted to it quickly – just how he had done with Carla. It didn't dawn on him how similar the two were until they had finished their dinner and gone to sleep. Ryn always fell asleep first, she had snuggled deep into the bed's thick blankets and fell asleep in record time. Boone took the spot next to her, and happened to glance over at the Courier before setting up his bedroll. She slept on her back with one arm flung over her eyes and her mouth open, displaying her little rabbit-like front teeth. The sniper remembered how his late wife did the same, his stomach rolled and he silently swore he'd part ways with her the second he had a chance. There was no way he'd risk getting Ryn killed – not when he was on his way to the grave.
Luckily, the Sniper didn't betray that gut feeling that made him follow her in the first place.
Cass was right about the cover the narrow passage provided. After clearing out the pack of geckos that had taken up residence in some of the shallow caves, the group made camp for the night. After brewing a particularly strong pot of black coffee, everyone with the exception of Boone was huddled around the fire. The Sniper had gone to bed early, as was the norm, so he could be more alert in the morning. Ryn held her coffee mug like it was a vital lifeline, warming her hands and her insides with every sip.
Arcade rested back against a portion of the rock wall that had been warmed by the fire and sighed. "How did you find this recipe? It is amazing."
"Follows-Chalk taught it to me. It's really easy to make," Ryn muttered before lifting the rim of her mug to her chapped lips.
Even in her sloppiest of clothes, the Courier was well armed and this was made all the more obvious by the way she held her rifle between her thighs while drinking. Spirit Stick, a brush gun she had found in Zion was rarely out of her sight. It was by far her favorite weapon, one that she cared for like a child. Every night she would polish the dark wood stock, taking care to rub extra pigment into the words etched into the frame. May It Guide You Home – a message that rang true more now than ever. The delicate etchings took hours to make, and when she ran her fingers over them the idea of some man or woman slaving over this gun and making it their own resonated with Ryn. She wanted to make something her own so desperately that to sell the gun she had found or let it lie unused in her weapons bin seemed like a slap in the face to its previous owner. Not that she hadn't made modifications to it of her own, an elegant little blue and white dream catcher that Waking Cloud had given her was now attached to the stock, right under the words that tied her to the gun in the first place.
Of course, A Light Shining Through Darkness was stored in a decorative leather holster strapped around Ryn's chest – she didn't like to be too far away from it and often slept with it under her pillow. Cass laughed about this and attempted to reach out to touch the pistol, "I'm starting to wonder if you take that thing with you to the can."
"She does," Veronica snickered, "I've seen her do it."
The Courier burned a bright shade of red and promptly kicked the Scribe squarely in the shins (though this was just for show seeing as how the kick barely registered with Ryn's weakness.) "Sharing is caring except when it's my business."
"Well, it's better to be armed to the teeth with your pants down than not to be. Remember Vault 22?" Cass smirked over her cup, "that giant fucking plant thing popping out of a toilet? God, the look on your face!"
"I'm not the one who screamed and started firing all over the place." The Courier noted. She frowned a little as the dregs from her coffee spread across her tongue. This wouldn't help her keep it down and she could already feel her lungs burn as they usually did right before she had to double over and cough more blood. Instead of subjecting her friends to that unpleasant sight, Ryn pulled her bandana up over her mouth. Everyone in present company ignored this, allowed the Courier to hack as much as she needed before resuming the conversation.
"So, do you think-" Cass's thought was interrupted by a loud bang that caused everyone to jump. Boone was shouting out in short bursts that he knew the Courier would understand, even if it confused the rest of their party. "2 Clicks! Heavy! Ten." Grabbing The Spirit Stick, Ryn dragged herself to her feet with a heavy groan.
"I'll take lead, you get behind me." She was already plopping her combat helmet on her head and stepping forward as she spoke.
"Are you insane? You're not strong enough to fight!" Veronica shouted taking a fist full of Ryn's shirt. The Courier jerked away and started loading her gun.
"They don't want to kill me, they want to capture me… then maybe kill me." She chuckled a little and took another uneasy step forward only to wobble a little before grabbing the passage wall for support.
"Just get in one of the tents and we'll handle it," Arcade commanded. He was doing his best to grab the Courier but she kept pulling away, and despite how shaky her legs were, Ryn would always get just out of his reach. While this childish squabbling continued, Boone and Cass retreated to a high point in the rocky wall. The two watched as the Legion Assassins, lead by Vulpes Inculta, moved closer and closer…