The Courier woke with a start, his chest heaving from labored breaths of a half remembered nightmare. There was a thin layer of sweat coating his body that made his clothes stick to his skin, bunching up at the small of his back and clinging to his pectorals. He looked around the derelict hotel room as if to reassure himself that this was reality and that he had been dreaming.

There was a loud pounding on the door that made him jump and have a small heart attack. It sounded like a gunshot and his head throbbed in the spot he got shot, reminding him of all the anger he held towards the man responsible. He should be used to it by now, waking up like this, but he can't. He can't make the throbbing go away. He can't remember the things he wants to and he can't forget the ones he doesn't. The Courier should be used to this.

He got out of the bed and walked to the door, opening it to be greeted by, a little perky, Arcade. The Courier couldn't help but smirk at the memory of last night when he heard Arcade and Boone having sex, after meeting first the first time only two hours prior. Arcade was turning into something else.

First of all, Arcade was opposed to lovers, some past experience had left him a little bitter and second of all, him and the NCR stood apart. Boone was NCR incarnate and the complete opposite of Arcade in every way, which is why it made no sense at all to him. But Boone was something that the Courier wasn't (and probably would never be): A man.

"So, how was your night?" The Courier asked coldly, his pride being knocked down a peg as it occurred to him that Arcade would sleep with a total stranger with opposing values, before he'd sleep with him.

Arcade blushed subtly. "It was amazing," the doctor answered truthfully.

"Hope you had a blast," the Courier remarked half-heartedly."

"Are you okay?" Arcade furrowed his eyebrows and put his hands on his hips, blush and smile slowly fading. "You sound bitter."

"I'm fine," he lied. "I just worry about you. I don't want him hurting you."

"Thanks." Arcade smiled again, brighter this time and seemed to buy the lie the Courier had rattled off almost sarcastic enough to not be believable. "But I can handle it."

"I'm sure you can," the Courier mocked loathingly.

"Are you ready to head out?"

"What? Are you calling the shots now?" The Courier chuckled fondly.

"No. Craig said we should get an early start today. We should be at Ranger Station Echo by nightfall."

"Craig?"

"Sorry. Boone," Arcade corrected.

All of a sudden he was calling him by the first name? What the hell was that about? Did he miss a meeting or something? The Courier's face was hot and there was a sour taste in his mouth, jealousy threatening to bubble up and stain his words vilely.

"That's funny... I thought I was the one on a mission with the Platinum Chip. Huh... Crazy."

The Courier didn't ease up on the sarcasm one bit and he made it clear that he was irritated and threatened by the fact that Boone was trying to take over his mission as if it were his own. He knew it was an irrational excuse to be angry, but the Courier had his reasons.

"That was sarcasm right?" Arcade asked. "Unless I missed something?"

"Can't get anything past you," the Courier scoffed.

"This is the part where you make it easy for me and tell me wants eating you." Arcade stepped into the room and closed the door behind, crossing his arms across his chest. "What's going on?"

"Nothing. You made it abundantly clear that the fate of New Vegas rests solely in Boone's hands," the Courier said flatly, looking away from Arcade's questioning gaze.

"Do you prefer having that responsibility?" Arcade challenged, making the Courier's posture slump slightly in defeat. "Besides," Arcade said more softly this time, "He just wants to help. The faster we get the Chip the sooner we go home."

The Courier looked down at his feet, not truly meaning to get mad at Arcade but at the same time not regretting it. He met Arcade soft expression and gave him a small embarrassed smile, his cheeks turning pink now that Arcade knew he was jealous.

"Sorry," the Courier murmured with a shrug of his shoulder. "Let me just get my stuff together."

Arcade nodded and left the room, leaving the Courier to collect himself and his things in silence. He sighed and packed his bag, putting on his jacket and leaving the room to meet up with Arcade and Boone near the dinosaur.

He could see the merchants idly walking the streets and NCR troops patrolling the area, No-Bark Noonan ranting and raving in the background of it all. The Courier smirked to himself, a shiver running down his spine at the thought of getting closer and closer to saving New Vegas and, even more so, closer to his rightful revenge.

The Courier was greeted by a slap on the back from Arcade and a stone-faced stare from the 1st recon beret wearing sharpshooter. He wasn't intimidated by the cold stare one bit and as he nodded once back to Boone they set off, Novac and the dinosaur getting further and further away.

It was somewhere near the Wrecked Highwayman when they ran into a little trouble, a few Cazadors and an exceptionally tough group of feral ghouls. Boone flanked them from a distance as him and Arcade fought them head on, firing their Plasma Defenders at all their weak points to slow them down before they got too close for comfort.

A feral ghoul came out of nowhere from Arcade's right and scratched his forearm, causing the doctor to hiss in pain and drop his gun. The Courier whipped around and fired a single shot to the feral ghoul's head, incapacitating the wild flailing corpse. Arcade fell to the ground, clutching at his arm and groaning when he hit the unforgiving ground.

The Courier rushed over to Arcade's side and propped his head up comfortably, being careful when he helped him roll up his sleeve to inspect the wound. It wasn't deep and surprisingly not bleeding that much, but it would still need some medical attention. The Courier retrieved some Med-X and bandages to care for the wound, making Arcade hold down one end to make sure it was wrapped up securely.

Boone scavenged the ghoul's bodies for anything useful and trotted up to Arcade to see if he was alright. The Courier rolled his eyes as Arcade forgot all about him and how he had just saved him, turning away to wait for Boone to stop kissing Arcade's ass.

A loud thump caught their attention and Boone drew his rifle, pointing it in the general direction it came from. They all approached a giant rock as a ghoul came tumbling out from behind and falling in the dirt, coughing uncontrollably. Boone was about to fire but the Courier grabbed the barrel and swatted it away.

"What the hell?" Boone asked irritated.

"Just wait," snapped the Courier.

The ghoul looked up at them and gave the Courier a slight smirk, winking slyly at him and at that moment they knew he was normal. The Courier walked over and gave the ghoul his hand to help him up, cheeks hurting from smiling like a damn fool. The ghoul was back on his feet, clinging to the Courier in a warm embrace.

"We must stop meeting like this, kiddo," Nomad chuckled out of breath. He wheezed and clutched at his ribs, slumping against the redhead for support.

"Here, let me help you," the Courier murmured as he walked Nomad across the 164 to find a place to sit down. "What happened to you?"

"Ran into some trouble at the REPCONN Test Site. Place is crawling with Ferals," Nomad rasped.

The Courier went through his bag and gave Nomad some dirty water, because judging by his strained speech and wheezing pants he could tell the Wanderer was dehydrated. Nomad finished it off in four big gulps and winced when he breathed in sharply, causing his ribs to expand with his diaphragm and act up.

"Where's Fawkes and Charon?" The Courier asked, a little concerned.

"We got separated at Clarkfield. Believe it or not, the Golden Geckos were a little too much to handle."

"Well, I'm sure you guys were weak," the Courier reassured "After dealing with a bunch of Feral ghouls."

The Courier blushed as he mused Nomad with excuses as to why the geckos were too tough to fight off. Nomad smirked at the Courier playfully, letting the words become more true than they already were. The Courier zipped down the tab on Nomad's jumpsuit to reveal that splotchy skin, resting a warm hand against his ribcage and applying pressure to see what hurt the Wanderer the most.

"Does this hurt?" The Courier inquired as he pressed his palm into the top rib.

"No."

"And this?"

His hand went down a little, fingers almost tickling as they drifted across the expanse of Nomad's abdomen. He applied pressure with his thumb, gauging Nomad's reaction as he did so and seeing only the slightest of winces. Nomad made a little sound and informed him it hurt, but it was bearable.

The hand went to the bottom rib, the Courier's palm rotating downward to press the heel into it firmly and now was he'd get the result he wanted. Nomad moaned a little and closed his eyes, the Courier smiling all the while but not knowing why. He didn't know why he wanted to hear Nomad in pain, but as Nomad opened up his eyes again they locked gazes.

There was something in this action and stare that translated a forbidden attraction between the two men. It reflected off of the Courier's smile and mirrored in Nomad's foggy eyes, sending impulses through where their bodies were connected. The Courier couldn't explain this and neither could Nomad. They didn't even know what THIS was but it was something and it would define their relationship.

"Yeah," Nomad confirmed, "It hurts."

"We should set up camp," the Courier suggested, not looking away from Nomad for one second. This in turn made Arcade pout and Boone scoff audibly .

"You wanna stop? It's nearly sundown and we-"

"We won't be able to make it tonight anyway," said the Courier, not hesitating to interrupt Boone mid-sentence.

"He's right," Arcade agreed, holding his arm close to his chest.

Boone grumbled and walked off to patrol the area as the others set up camp and made a fire to keep them warm for the impending coldness that followed with the night. The world around them grew silent as the night set in, the subtle murmur of wind wisping around them and sending chills down their necks.

Nomad was huddled close to the Courier to keep warmth and Arcade was across from them by himself, yawning. The Courier's stomach growled and he wished they had more food so they could eat every night, but they had to conserve their rations for when they really needed them.

The Courier could see that Arcade was mulling something over in his head but he couldn't tell what exactly, not until he made a look a Nomad. It was as if he was sizing him up or something and the Courier didn't know why it made him uneasy, but it did.

"So, Nomad. What's your story anyway?" Arcade said aloud.

"Story?" Nomad asked obliviously.

"Yeah. Like where did you come from?"

"Well, I came from Washington, DC. I was born in a town called Megaton and lived with my father. He ran a store called Craterside Supply and I helped scavenge for supplies whenever we were low. We didn't have much, but we were happy."

Arcade didn't seem to buy it and being a good judge of character (and sometimes a pain in the ass) he dared to challenge those claims. He hummed a small laugh and didn't break eye contact with Nomad for one second, determined to call him on a lie.

"No, really. Where'd you come from? You obviously came from a vault. Your lack of knowledge of the wastes and... Reckless behavior, have proved you to be somewhat naive," Arcade stated as he recalled all he had observed of the ghoul, certain he had caught his bluff.

Nomad smiled evenly, being sure to keep a cool head and not let Arcade's assumptions get to him so easily. He had two options: relent and tell the truth about his past, or lie like he always did to people he's met while traveling. Nomad couldn't tell you why he preferred to lie about his past, but he knew now wasn't the time he'd start telling the truth.

The truth of how he and his father crawled out of a vault, or how his father had died for believing in a future, or even the fact that Nomad had made a sacrifice of his own. If he had to guess as to why he kept the truth to himself, it be because no one would believe him.

They wouldn't believe that his father, James, had saved the Wasteland and purified the water for the greater good of humanity. Even Nomad couldn't believe it. Those stories about the Vault Dwellers were merely legends to people like Arcade and the Courier and if they were told otherwise they'd scoff, shrugging it off as nonsense.

"Well, I haven't been in the Mojave for long and it certainly is a lot different out here," Nomad said evenly. "My dad gave this suit to me. He knew a man who had lived in a Vault for almost 50 years. Had a whole bunch of these things lying around. All sizes too."

Arcade was still a little iffy, but the way Nomad had spoke so clearly without hesitation seemed to cloud his former judgment and rethink his assumptions. The Courier just shook his head as if this was Arcade's way of getting back at him for being jealous of Boone, but amused by their back and forth all the same.

"Were you always a ghoul?" Arcade rattled off, seeming to have bought Nomad's previous fib.

"No. You see, the funny thing about Megaton is that it was built around an active Atom Bomb. Some people even worshipped it like a God," said Nomad.

He felt like he was telling a ghost story by the campfire with Arcade playing as his captivated audience. He caught the Courier's smile with the corner of his eye, looking as if he was enjoying Nomad's story even more than the others and it made him all fuzzy inside that he was able to entertain the young man. Even if it was only half true.

"It was highly unstable and there were certain people who thought of Megaton as a blight of the wastes." Nomad paused and looked up to the sky as if for dramatic effect, but it wasn't.

"What happened?" The Courier pipped up after a moment of silence, excitement and longing coating his words. Eager to hear the climax.

"Sometimes the wrong people have more power than others and decide to rid the world of the things they hate or defy them. I don't remember much before the blast but when I came to, Megaton didn't exist anymore and neither did it's inhabitants. Except for me and one other. Her name was Moira Brown and after the discovery of our "ghoulification" we left and traveled to a place where ghouls were welcomed: Underworld."

"That's terrible," Arcade commented with true concern in his voice and possibly feeling a little bad for asking.

"Burke was the man who rigged it and Allistair Tenpenny was the man with way too much power, sitting on throne he took over for himself," Nomad said bitterly.

"How do you know that?" The Courier asked.

"Because I killed them," Nomad said matter-of-factly, looking the Courier in the eyes with nothing but seriousness.

Sometime later Boone had returned to the campfire and sat next to Arcade's limp and sleeping form, keeping his eyes peeled for any enemies. It was quiet for most of the night and when the Courier couldn't sleep he decided to explore the area around them. He stood up and brought his Plasma defender with him incase something decided to attack him, tiptoeing away from the fire without a word from Boone.

He walked down a dirt path, kicking rocks and looking at all there was to see. Dirt, rocks, and more dirt. But at least the night was cool and somewhat refreshing if you could forget about all the gamma radiation floating around. The Courier found a rock and sat down, breathing in deep and exhaling slowly as he reveled in the peace and quiet of a world that was no longer either of those things.

The Courier looked up at the stars (or lack thereof) and wondered if someone else was doing the same, counting each one to forget about all the fucked up things in the world. He was sure someone was doing it. But very few had the power to actually make a difference and in this way, the Courier was alone with the stars.

He closed his eyes to stop his existence for just a split second before jumping nearly out of his skin when a hand gently gripped his shoulder, squeezing once to calm him. Nomad sat down next to him quietly, lowering the gun the Courier was quick to pull. The Courier blushed and Nomad smiled, finding it cute everytime he did so. The Courier could've sworn Nomad was asleep when he had snuck off, but it turned out he was wrong. As if Nomad was waiting for him to do just that, so they could be alone together.

"Beautiful night isn't it?" Nomad commented softly.

"It's practically glowing," the Courier giggled, not able to resist the set up for a corny joke and in turn making Nomad laugh as well. "I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"Your father."

"What about my father?" Nomad inquired, intrigued by what the Courier would say.

"I'm sorry that you lost him," the Courier said forlornly. "No one deserves to have their father taken away like that. Especially someone like you."

"No one deserves to have their memory taken away either," Nomad added, getting a confused look from the Courier.

"How did you-?"

"Word gets around," Nomad informed, holding up a radio he had brought with him.

"That guy never shuts up."

"You must not know Three Dog then," Nomad chuckled.

The Courier assumed that Three Dog was also a radio broadcaster, probably from DC, and laughed too even though he didn't know enough about the guy to make comparisons. Nomad moved closer to the Courier and put a hand on his thigh, bending in half with laughter at the memory of one broadcast in particular.

"It must've been nice having a father," the Courier said absentmindedly, not really noticing he said it out loud until Nomad responded.

"It was. He was a great man. Didn't deserve the hand he was dealt. Kinda like you," Nomad said earnestly.

"I don't think I have a father, or a mother. If I did they'd be looking for me, wondering what the hell happened. If I was okay or not." The Courier didn't even try to restrain his frustration or anger or regret as he spoke, not caring if Nomad saw him weak and vulnerable. "Maybe they're up in the stars."

"I'm afraid the only thing up in the stars are a bunch of crazy ghouls, kiddo."

"What?" The Courier asked, a tiny barely there smile creeping back onto his face.

"At the REPCONN Test Site there were a bunch of ghouls preparing to launch themselves in a rocket to find paradise or some sort of afterlife," Nomad smirked. "The were called the Bright Followers, or something."

The Courier smiled and laughed heartily, shaking his head in fond disbelief.

"That crazy old bastard, No-Bark, was right."

"Who?"

"It's a long story."

"Good. We have time for it then," Nomad grinned, features and eyes soft with affection. "Or we could could just..."

Nomad froze up as if captivated by the Courier's pale youthful face, his lips unmoving and eyes twinkling from the moonlight. Suddenly, Nomad was moving forward, resting his forehead against the Courier's and cupping his face with only slightly rough hands. The Courier didn't shy away or object the closeness of Nomad, but enjoyed the contact as if he couldn't get enough of it.

"...sit here," Nomad finished, closing the small gap between them and brushing his lips against the Courier's lightly enough to make it tickle.

The Courier's eyes went wide like saucers and a part of his brain slowed down while the other part screamed it's true thoughts of the act. He didn't feel disgusted or violated, but surprised and excited because he had never (from what he could remember) kissed a ghoul before. It was definately different from kissing a human and it should've been disgusting, but the Courier liked it. He liked Nomad.

The Courier gasped when he felt one of Nomad's rough hands slip under his shirt to rub warm trails up and down his chest, giving Nomad's tongue entry to his mouth in the process. He closed his eyes and allowed himself to get lost in the moment, accepting Nomad's rough but gentle motions as he became a little hot and bothered.

He moaned and shuddered when Nomad's thumb brushed a nipple, feeling the smile of triumph spread across the ghoul's face as his tongue was being worked by another. It had never felt like this when he was with Arcade, in fact it felt even better. Nomad had Arcade beat by a mile, and then some.

Nomad circled his tongue around the Courier's, always keeping the same slow gentle rhythm and made this kiss actually mean something other than urgency and animalistic want. This was meaningful and passionate, like an unspoken declaration of love or a promise.

The Wanderer pulled back for air, still so close and still wanting more. He didn't want to stop kissing the Courier, but he needed to gain his trust first and the Courier could see that. Nomad smiled at the flushed and panting redhead before, patting him on the thigh in reassurance.

"Don't worry, kiddo. I got your back."

And the Courier knew that Nomad also had his heart.