Long time coming, sorry. Deadlines at work and whatnot. I have a clear idea for the next couple chapters though, so they should go up pretty soon- and now that character development is maturing, we'll actually get some action (whee). Would you believe I still haven't finished my first play-through? Things'll slow down during winter vacation (I hope!).

Thank you for your patience, many thanks for the new alerts and favourites, and most thanks for the reviews! I'm thrilled that people choose to read this story out of the many Courier/Boone fics available (haha, and I thought I was being original by posting of the first ones… it's such a good pairing though, no wonder it's popular!).

Sparrow gazed across the barren landscape, idly recognizing the beauty of the usually dark Mojave Desert lit up by the moon. She shivered as a cold breeze hit the camp, and pulled her blanket around her tighter. Boone's loaded rifle lay at her feet, the black gunmetal an eerie silver color in the light of the full moon, in easy grabbing motion should something happen while she was on watch. She didn't notice that she was fidgeting, her fingers worrying the edge of the worn blanket, a maroon colored scrap of cloth that was leftover from her caravanning days and still smelled faintly of brahmin.

Joy and awe at seeing the rockets ignite and begin their initial take off. Horror and shock when one went off course, followed by wrenching guilt for not having done something. Couldn't do anything, not good enough- not good enough to save the ghouls, not good enough to be a courier, not good enough to be a who-

Another breeze hit her and she shivered violently as the wind went through a space where she had let the blanket slip. The icy wind stopped her line of thought as much as Boone's slap a few days earlier had, and she sighed, her teeth chattering. She knew it wasn't her fault that the rocket had crashed, not really, but she hated feeling so useless. If only she had spent more time learning how to use the piece of tech on her arm, or if she had bothered to pull out one of her science magazines, or if… so many "what ifs" for a moment that was over in an instant. She didn't even know why she cared so much- it wasn't as if she had really cared much for the ghouls- but it still haunted her, the helplessness and unfairness of their demise.

"Shit!" She cursed as the breeze picked up, chilling her again. She heard movement by the banked fire and looked over at the sniper guiltily. He had turned over, but still appeared to be sleeping despite her outburst. His features were indistinguishable in the dark, but she could imagine it well enough- strong chiseled jaw, nose a little too beakish to be conventionally attractive, full lips in a perpetual frown... strong shoulders, body well defined, shirt tight enough to see the outline of the muscles on his back and chest, arms strong and warm when they wrapped around you…

Oh. Crap.

Sparrow blinked several times, trying to wish away her last line of thought. It had been too long since she'd been with a guy, that was all, and being around a man 24/7 was driving her hormones crazy. That was all.

A good looking, strong man, who you trust with your life, and whose arms it feels really good to be held in...

"And an assload of issues," Sparrow muttered, trying to stop her mind from going unhelpful and frustrating places.

She sighed again, wrapping the blanket around her tighter even though she suddenly wasn't all that cold, and checked her pipboy. 4am- well, it wasn't like she was going to sleep anyway. She thought about starting up the fire but decided that her companion should at least get some rest, and so she just fished around in her pack until she found an extremely bruised apple. She sat back down, taking a bite, and resumed her watch over the desert. No more than a few minutes had passed when a hand on her shoulder made her jump, the shock causing her to drop her half-eaten apple on the ground. She automatically reached for her pistol but got tangled in the folds of the blanket, pulse beating wildly, as she looked up at her assailant- and into Boone's impassive face. Thousands of curses flew through her mind, but fled instantly as soon as she realized that the sniper didn't have a shirt on, his bare chest dimly illuminated by her pipboy light.

"Well?" Boone asked, and she realized that he had asked her something.

"Um. Sorry. What?"

Boone sighed, sounding exasperated. "I said, 'do you want to get some sleep until dawn? I'm up now.'"

"Oh. Gotcha," she replied, still distracted.

"…"

"I mean, no! I'm good, not sleepy," she said sheepishly, realizing she hadn't actually answered his question. I had an apple." Sparrow picked it up land ooked woefully at the now sandy fruit, trying to decide if it was worth rinsing off with precious water. "Why're you up? I didn't hear anything."

"Didn't sleep well," the sniper replied, and she belatedly noticed that his torso was shiny with sweat.

"Oh. Okay." Great, I sound like a robot. A dumb robot.

Boone, oblivious to her thoughts, sat down beside her, picked up his rifle and carefully put in his lap, and looked off into the desert. She took out a knife and began to cut away the sandy parts of the apple, throwing the scraps over the hillside. Surreptitiously, she watched the sniper, both admiring his shirtlessness and inwardly wincing at the cold. Finally, she was unable to stand it any longer.

"Aren't you cold?"

Boone looked over at her, his eyes bright, and she felt like he'd been worlds away. He looked down and seemed to notice that he had goosebumps and was shirtless because he grimaced slightly and stood up.

"Yea. Guess I am," he said quietly and went over to his pack to find a shirt.

Sparrow watched him, distracted, and the knife slipped, slicing her finger. She stuck her finger in her mouth, sucking on it, and when Boone turned back to her, he raised his eyebrows in question.

"Cuth may finger," she mumbled, refusing to meet his gaze.

"You are very accident prone."

She glared at him but didn't respond. How was she supposed to tell him that having him around, his maleness, distracted her like crazy? They sat in silence for a few minutes until the bleeding stopped.

"I'm not used to having someone around, is all. I'm pretty good at taking care of myself."

Boone didn't look at her, but replied, "I didn't say you weren't. But you are clumsy."

"Whatever," she muttered, beginning to feel pissed off.

"I didn't mean to offend you. You're still alive- that says something. And you seem to have luck on your side. Consider your past- it was clumsiness and pure luck that got you with that caravan. And getting your leg torn in half, but still managing to bring down the mutant. Clumsy luck."

"Hey now, that head shot was pure skill, Sweetcheeks," she said with a drawl, falling back into her Reno speech patterns. For a split moment, she almost laughed, but then realized exactly what she said and held her breath, afraid she'd crossed a line.

There was a breath of pure silence, and then Boone sighed deeply, and she relaxed. He didn't seem anymore upset than usual, and she felt she knew him well enough by now to be able to tell.

"Sure, Kid. Tell yourself that."

"I'm not a kid," she sulked, and finished off her apple. They sat beside each other in relative silence until the Eastern horizon began to lighten in a precursor to dawn. She got up to start the campfire and boil some water, when Boone spoke again.

"Most people die when they take a bullet to the head. Not you. Lucky."

She ignored him until the fire started and water was in the pot. She poked at the embers until Boone got up and joined her, and they both warmed their hands as the water began to steam.

"You know, I wasn't always called Sparrow. I didn't take this name until I was 7 or so and began running with some other street children. We were a bunch of beggars and petty thieves, but it was a family for a while. One of the older kids said we were like a bunch of rats, always surrounding people and getting into things we shouldn't have been. I stuck my nose up in the air and said I wasn't a dirty rat, but his ma sure was. It was a stupid insult actually, especially since none of us really had parents, but he got really mad and started chasing me. I was too fast and he couldn't catch me, but he was too fast for me to get away from, and I ended up on the second story of a burnt out building."

Pausing, Sparrow tested the water, glad it was turning warm. She looked over at Boone, who was watching her intently, waiting for her to continue.

"Well, there was another building about 20 feet or so away. I knew it was dumb, but I also knew that if the guy caught me, I'd be dead meat. And so I ran and jumped- for one wonderful moment, it seemed like I was going to make it. Of course, I fell short and landed on the ground, breaking my arm and getting all cut up from broken glass. And I still would have been dead meat, but by that point all of New Reno had seen us running around and heard the story, and when I crash landed, some teenagers came over, all pretty well dressed, came and helped me up. When the ganger came down to finish the job, the best dressed one stood behind me and warned him off. After the ganger left, he held me away from and looked me up and down. Said, 'you're not a rat, but you're certainly filthy." One of the other boys started laughing at how I'd flown, and the boy holding me laughed and said I was like a sparrow- small and dirty, a feathered rat with spunk. I should have been angry, but I wasn't- he carried himself like royalty, like someone important, and I immediately decided that that should be my name. Besides, I was dirty. I wanted to know who he was, but he and his friends laughed and left."

She chuckled softly, caught up in the memory, remembering how she had twisted to stare up into the boy's face as he spoke to her, curious and eager to know her rescuer.

Boone coughed and she looked at him questioningly.

"Did you find out who it was?" he asked.

"Yea. Joseph Mordino, the youngest son of the Mordino crime boss. He put in word for me too 'cause when I got back to downtown, there was a street addict that told me some guy had paid him to tell me to go the clinic. Doc set my arm and everything. I decided that Jos was my knight in shining armor and went around showing people my cast and telling them my name was 'Sparrow.' And the name stuck."

The water began to boil and she quickly took the pot off the fire, enjoying the heat that the hot steam provided. She felt relaxed as the sun began to rise, and so decided to push her luck.

"So, Boone, what about you? What's your story?"

"Not now."

"Hardly fair…" she wheedled.

"Not. Now."

Sparrow shrugged and decided it was for the best. The more taciturn her companion was, the less likely she'd forget who he was. She didn't need her crush to grow.

No, not a crush. Just… hormones. Right. Hormones.

Boone's voice broke through her thoughts as she got out tin cups to serve the coffee in.

"What the hell is a sparrow?"