Boone stood outside the cavern's mouth with a walkie talkie in hand and a backpack slung over his shoulder, and waited for the familiar sight of a mess of long curly red hair wrangled into a single, extending braid to appear from the darkness. Sure, he could wait inside to cool, dank cave rather than the hot, dusty shack; but the wriggling feeling in his stomach and the frank contriteness of his expression forbade him from it. No; he was going to put off having to face Leda for as long as possible.
All it took was one night. One night for the floodgates to open, one more night to close them tightly once again. He could hear Leda from the bedroom, talking to Cass. He could also hear the ghost.
He tried to convince himself that it was Carla, telling him that it was wrong what they'd done, that it was wrong to move on, and that it was wrong to think that he could snake around the things he'd done to enemies of the NCR, to herself, to their unborn child; but try as he might, he knew too well and too obviously that this was no ghost of his tragic late wife - this was the ghost of the man he was once. He'd certainly always been quiet, ever since he was a child. He'd had an average childhood, and despite his penchance for listening rather than chattering away like other children, he played and learned and grew up about average for a child in a normal community in California. Freeside had always reminded him of his hometown, and it hurt the first time he stepped through the gate and was met with glares at his uniform and his tags and his face.
And then he found Carla. And then he lost Carla. And the process that began when he joined the NCR and began his training as barely a man, came halfway when he gained his bereau at 20 and rocketing to one of the best damn snipers out there, was finalized in two steps: Bitter Springs - which he could trust his superiors enough to follow through with, but not enough to convince himself that "orders are orders" - and the kidnapping and subsequent death of his wife. That elongated step-by-step process didn't end until the day he put a bullet in the bitch who forced his hand's brain. He had Leda to thank for that.
He had no illusions about his true feelings; he loved her. Never in the same way he had loved Carla, and never for the same reasons; Leda was practically the exact opposite. Carla had been sultry, curvacious, and had little in the way of a filter about her true thoughts and intentions and impressions. Leda was bright, lean muscle and hard work, and he couldn't even imagine her saying a single overly-critiquing word ever, despite being honest and unwilling to tell a good-at-heart person a little white lie. Even in appearance, they were little alike; Carla with black hair she swept over her shoulder, dark eyes and skin the color of whiskey that left him feeling as drunk as the real thing. Leda on the other hand had red hair, blue eyes, and was the color of the fine sand in Cottonwood Cove dotted with droplets of rain. They weren't perfect opposites. They both held heavy hips, strong, thick thighs that could drive anyone crazy, and admittedly a similar playful and teasing attitude towards sex.
And the difference between the women he'd loved now, was that to his knowledge, he'd never hurt Carla like he'd hurt Leda.
Not a single day. Not even 12 hours had gone by after finally taking that first step towards having a future, towards being truly happy, that he'd taken four steps back.
Step one: He listened to Leda talk to Cass, listened how happy it had made her, that it was helping her heal too, and still chose what he chose to do.
Step two: He told her within ten minutes of her waking up in the morning that he had made a mistake in getting physical with her, but didn't regret it and that he felt strongly about her, but he wasn't sure he was ready to move on. Or rather, he thought that - but didn't say that. What he actually said was that he'd made a mistake. That he couldn't do this, and mumbled something about 'not yet', not knowing if Leda heard him say that or not.
Step three: Despite the fact that she refused to turn around and look at his face, despite the fact that immediately after the "discussion" she left the Lucky 28 with Cass in tow and didn't so much as venture back to the 28 or Novac for weeks - she quietly said that she understood.
Step four: When Leda came back again, she handed Boone a walkie talkie and told him that when she's ready, if he hasn't contacted her first, she'll let him know. He nodded his head. She told him that she was going to join a caravan on a trip to Zion. He wished her luck. She said she didn't know how long she'd be gone. And he simply told her "stay safe".
And a day or two prior, when the crackle of that walkie talkie popped into life and a buzzing, bastardization of Leda's airy-but-lately-more-timid voice and thick drawling accent filled his stomach with a shot of adrenaline, he'd hovered his thumb over the 'talk' button for far too long before pressing down and delivering a single, flat "Okay. See you soon".
So now here he was, unsure of what he'd say when she got there, and even more unsure of what she would.
She'd asked him to bring along some fresh supplies; a clean change of clothes, some of that agave soap she liked, one of the bottles of aloe gel she'd been in the habit of making before she'd left, a pair of comfortable boots, a sewing kit, and a torn up shirt for scrap fabric. The essentials for cleanup and repair after a trip like she'd had. Boone wasn't sure why he'd done it, but he'd also brought a few other things. A bag of her favorite bighorner jerky and a jar of peanut butter, a few Sunset Sarsaparilla bottles, a jug of homemade tequila, and something that was more than certain to make her happy to see even him - Rex, who stood panting beside Boone with a sleepy but pleased expression on his face.
After Leda'd replaced Rex's brain with that of a Legion bitch named Lupa, he'd not been quite sure what to call Rex, if the dog were indeed still Rex. Replacing his brain almost completely certainly meant that Rex was a brand new dog, or rather - Lupa. But he still growled at the sight of anyone wearing a hate who wasn't himself, Leda, or Cass, and he still wagged his tail and happily ate gecko jerky out of Leda's hand. Perhaps all his memories were stored within the technologies of his body, and they simply needed a brain to run on like a motherboard in a computer. Regardless, Rex was always over the moon to see Leda, and Leda was always overjoyed to see Rex. Maybe that foresight was worth a few brownie points.
And sure enough, Rex smelled Leda before Boone could even make out movement in the cool darkness of the cave. Rex barked and shifted from paw to paw excitedly, his dark eyes darting from Boone to the shade within the opening, hoping for Boone to tell him he could run to his friend and companion. Boone didn't say anything to him though. He only waited.
First came the pale glow of Leda's hat, and soon to follow was the tanned-but-still-fair face full of freckles and the brilliant blue eyes that seemed as cool as the cave she emerged from. She took her sweet time walking from the maw of the cavern, and the whole time she was barely able to keep her eyes from Boone, even as she saw Rex and a smile lit up her face she couldn't help but let those burning-blues flit back to Boone every few seconds. When she reached her beloved and loyal companion, she couldn't help but feel some warmth for the care Boone had put into making sure her best friend was there for her when she got home, and it burned a few of the butterflies in her stomach. She knelt down to scratch Rex's chin and behind his ears, and he let out a small whine of delight at sniffed at her wrists.
"Rex, don't worry; it's just me!", Leda crooned to the curious pup.
She sat for a while, hoping that maybe if she waited it out Boone would look away, or say something, or do anything; but he remained statuesque in place, and his eyes never left Leda. She shyly turned her head to face his, and met his eye with an expression of discerning that hid quite well the happiness she felt at seeing him after so long.
"Boone", she said flatly, nodding.
"Leda", he replied.
Another awkward minute passed, and he felt urged to add something, anything; until another figure began moving in the shadowy cave.
Following Boone's train of sight back to the cave, Leda clearly recognized the stranger now stepping out of the curtains of blackness. He was young, even younger than Leda and himself, and Boone recognized him as a tribal, though not one he'd ever seen before. He was a bit shorter than Boone, but was strong and lean, with skin the color of a pre-war penny and eyes like gunmetal, contrasting starkly with the white chalk paint and black tattoos adorning his face, and wore a set of leather armor and sturdy boots in addition to tribal accessories and a handstitched bag draped across his torso. The man seemed... disappointed, but a smile remained on his face and he held up a hand to wave hello. Leda lifted herself off her knees and stood in surprise, as he walked closer.
"Follows-Chalk?", Leda asked, furrowing her brow but obviously happy to see him.
He grinned.
"So this is civilization? It doesn't look much different than home. Less hilly, but the same plants, same sand", Follows-Chalk joked.
"Well yeah, but you aren't in a town just yet! What're you doin' here?! I knew you were thinking about traveling, but I figured you'd wait until you were a full-blown Scout! Why not just accompany me on my way home, I woulda welcomed th' company", Leda asked as she pulled Follows-Chalk into a tight hug.
"To be honest, I wanted to talk to my family first. Joshua wasn't happy about my decision, but when I made it clear I was doing this with or without his blessing, he came around. He gave me some supplies and the armor I'm wearing right now; he even gave me a pouch full of those bottle caps!"
"That's great! I'm so happy for you!", Leda exclaimed.
Follows-Chalk leaned to the side to look over Leda's shoulder and gave a warm but mild and timid smile to Boone.
"You must be Boone. My name is Follows-Chalk; Leda's told me much about you. It is nice to meet you", he said, putting his hand out for Boone to shake.
Boone stared at Follows-Chalks friendly expression, then at his outstretched hand, before clasping it reluctantly with his own.
"Yeah. Uh, nice to meet you too", Boone replied slowly.
Leda's face turned red.
"So, do um... So do you know where you want to go first?", Leda asked Follows-Chalk after a pause of silence that was far too long.
"Not by name. I know I want to see New Vegas, and that town you talked about all the time - N... Novac? I don't know how to get there though."
"Oh, I'd be happy to give you directions. I wouldn't recommend going straight to New Vegas, save that for once you've gotten used to a regular city; but Novac is a great idea. Hell, if you tell them that Leda sent you their way, they'll most likely be inclined to help you and give you a discount on supplies and a place to stay."
Leda took her time in explaining things in the Mojave to Follows-Chalk, and gave him detailed but simple directions to Novac, while Boone looked on quietly sitting in on the conversation. He almost didn't notice when they stopped talking and Leda's hand reached out and took Follows'.
"Good luck. And be safe", Leda told her friend gently.
She stood up on her toes, and gave him a soft, sweet kiss.
Boone's stomach lurched, and he felt his nose flare as he dragged in a ragged, segmented breath as Leda drew back her head and settled back onto her heels and hugged Follows-Chalk one more time.
"You as well", Follows responded, resting his chin on the top of Leda's head and kissing it before letting her go and adjusting the strap of his bag.
She, Boone, and Rex watched Follows-Chalk walk off towards Novac in silence, Leda scratching behind Rex's ears absentmindedly. She tried not to act like she felt the burning-hot shock in Boone radiate from him like branches of fiery lightning and calamitous thunder, until Follows was little more than a shape in the distance.
The sun had just barely risen by then. Leda was tired, that was abundantly clear, but after the last month of hiking, fighting Yao Guai, surviving ambush after ambush and attack after attack, and the weeks prior to that of emotional turmoil and nonstop merc work and missions, she had decided days before that it was long overdue for her to have a break. And she knew the perfect place.
She and Boone had found the villa hidden away behind towering cliffs and stone, accessible only through a winding passage that opened in a shallow cave that sat next to the water in Cottonwood Cove. She had merely wanted to explore the area after the arduous task of wiping out the Legion army there and freeing their slaves and captives; it was truly a massive area, and in truth she immediately fell in love with it. The warm, clean, crystal clear water beckoned her to shed her armor and swim, and the fine, sparkling sand coupled with the cabins and cabanas that dotted the closed off shore made it look like something out of a pre-war magazine. It was truly magical.
And when they had discovered the hidden pass that emptied out in a small private lagoon, and found that beachside residence nearly untouched by the elements and war, Leda couldn't believe her luck. They'd carefully explored each room it held, from the near-empty cellar, to the attic filled with ancient, dust covered artifacts of a simpler, less radioactive time. The roof had held up extremely well and barely needed any patching at all, and though the sunroof of the second floor den was busted along with a few other windows, they were easily replaced or covered with netting.
She and Boone had finally gotten something of a reward for their hardships and sacrifices, and now she was going to allow herself to get some use out of it.
Cottonwood Cove was all the way across the Mojave, and at least a three-day trek - one and a half if they were somehow able to run the entire way without eating, sleeping, relieving themselves, or fighting something or someone.
Leda was more than a little confused when Boone insisted that - instead of settling down for the night in Novac, where they both had their own apartments and it was assured they could rest comfortably, maybe even bathe - they stop walking for the night around midnight and make camp wherever they were. She obliged anyway, and while Boone put up their tent, Leda made a fire and started to cook up dinner.
It was obvious that Boone was upset and on edge, and Leda knew why. In a twisted way, it gave her hope. She felt more and more guilty the longer the thick tension grew between them, and it was even more suspenseful waiting for him to say something - anything - about what was eating him.
And yet, despite the fact that it was gnawing on Boone's mind and conscience, they made the trip to Cottonwood Cove in almost complete and utter silence. Every time Leda expected Boone to say something, or ask a question, or hell - even just say "good morning" or "good night", Boone would open his mouth, maybe even say her name to gain her attention, then hesitate before closing his mouth again and simply saying "nevermind". The silence was weighing heavily on them both.
So Leda was relieved and a little pleased when Boone finally started to talk to her - really talk to her - when they had reached their hidden getaway; at first, anyway.
"So", Boone spoke up after dumping his pack on the sofa in the den.
Leda looked up at him and waited wide-eyed for him to continue.
"So...", she parroted.
"I take it you made some new friends in Zion."
"Yeah, actually. Everyone there - aside from the White Legs - was very welcoming and kind. They wanted my help and you know me; I was happy to oblige."
"In fact, I take it you made more than just friends with that one guy. Follows-Chalk."
Leda froze, and leaned her head back exasperatedly.
Boone moved closer.
"Leda. Just tell me", Boone said in a low voice.
"Yes and no. Okay?", Leda replied, moving towards the wall to open the dresser drawers.
"What does that mean?"
"It means, Boone, that he was friendly, and compassionate, and even though I fully disclosed that I didn't completely reciprocate his feelings, he was still willing to... He was there. For me."
Leda dared not turn around and look Boone in the eye. She knew she had nothing to feel guilty about, that she needed closeness and the touch of someone who cared for her, that it would help her move on with her life - but she couldn't help it. She almost knew how Boone felt, though she was unaware of it.
Boone stood behind her now.
"Is this a game to you? Because fine. You win. I hurt you; you hurt me back. So if you were trying to get me to react, trying to get me to say i'm ready to try - then it worked", Boone said with more than a little anger in his voice as he put his arm out to block Leda from going around him.
Without a word, Leda whirled around and Boone had barely enough time to register that her cheeks were wet before she struck his face with an open palm.
He looked at her with surprise, and Leda let out a small warbling sob.
"How fucking dare you. "Is this a game?" - Is this a game to you?", she cried.
Boone looked down.
"You broke my heart. It's been weeks. I gave up, and tried to start moving on, and you don't get to be angry at me for this when you didn't even try to talk to me."
He opened his mouth, unsure of what to say, but knowing that he had to say something. ANYthing.
Leda lifted a hand to silence him.
"I can't be here right now. I can't talk to you right now", Leda told him with a shaky voice, and edged her way around him.
Boone heard the door slam shut and didn't move. Suddenly he was feeling very differently. What had felt like betrayal only a moment ago now felt like red-hot guilt, and the sting and burn on his cheek felt like nothing compared to the shame in his stomach.
Leda sat down on the bench on the patio and tried her best to keep the sound of her crying as quiet as possible, her hands clutched and pressed between her legs. She knew she had nothing - or at very least very little - to feel bad about, but the tincture of heartbreak, grief, hurt, and longing was not logical.
And perhaps if her head wasn't lowered, and her eyes weren't blurred with thick, burning tears, she would have seen the glint up on the cliff's edge. Perhaps if she wasn't so distraught and preoccupied, and if her mind wasn't so heavily clouded and disoriented, she would have had time to react and evade the bullet that effortlessly pierced her stomach and lodged itself in her gut when she heard the crack of that Legion sniper's rifle.