Elaine sat heavily, leaning against the sign at the entrance to Cottonwood Cove. Boone bent to put a brace on her twisted and mangled ankle. They'd cleared out the cove nearly perfectly - sniping half the fools from a distance before progressing down the road and cleaning up the scraps. They would have come through completely unscathed if that Legion dog hadn't gotten the jump on her while she was freeing the slaves. It met its end pretty quickly, but not before it latched onto her leg. Damn, I hate those mongrels.
Watching him work, she wondered about Boone. She'd been pretty sure she'd seen a hint of a smile on his face when they'd finished clearing the cove. He occasionally would lighten up, but it was still like he couldn't let himself be happy for more than a moment. From the beginning, he'd always been that way. 'This isn't going to end well,' he'd said when he first agreed to join her. She had begun to understand why he'd said it - he thought he was bad luck- … or something like that. She knew it had to do with what happened at Bitter Springs. It seemed pretty irrational to her. At least his demeanor had softened considerably since their confrontation near Nelson.
Trying to get her mind off the throbbing pain from her ankle, she recalled the previous night. They'd made camp up on the hills above the cove. During her watch, she had noticed that he'd tossed and turned nearly all night. There were bags under his eyes now - she wasn't sure if he'd slept at all. "Did you have nightmares last night?"
"Yeah. Couldn't sleep."
"Bitter Springs?" she asked. Boone had told her that he thought about it all the time. 'Even when I sleep.' She knew what it was like to not be able to escape something, to be haunted by it …
He glanced up, eyeing her. After a moment, "Yeah."
She asked quietly, "Do you think it would help to go back there?" She figured she wouldn't upset him too much by asking.
She could tell from his voice that he was mildly annoyed. "Does it help you to be here? To see that they keep taking slaves and killing people?"
"Maybe. To be able to free the slaves here helped, I think."
He sighed, losing the defensive tone. "No. I don't want to go back. It won't change anything. And that's a memory I don't want refreshed."
They were both silent for a moment. Finally, she asked, "Is it because of Bitter Springs that you think you've got bad things coming?"
This time, he didn't look up from his work. "Life has a way of punishing you for the mistakes you make. Big enough mistake, punishment can take a while. Mine's not over."
She wasn't convinced, "Don't you think people can make up for their mistakes?"
"A murderer who does good deeds is still a murderer. And he'll still get his judgment. I left the NCR when my tour was up. Had enough of war. Decided I was gonna start over. None of it made a difference in the end."
"How could you know that?" she asked as he finished up wrapping her ankle and slid her boot back on.
"Because I'm still alive." He stood, and reached out to help her up. She didn't move a muscle. Instead, she only glared back at him.
"So, I guess I should just take you back to Novac, then? Let you rot, waiting for some unseen force to strike you down? Because you're apparently more interested in seeing this stupid justice through than helping me out."
He narrowed his eyes, dropping the hand to his side. "What?"
"I've been watching your back, doing my best to keep up my end of this-... our partnership. Now, with you saying this shit, I don't know if I can count on you to do the same. If you're really dead-set on dying, maybe we shouldn't continue together. I need backup - not someone looking for the nearest sword to fall on."
She grunted and stood, limping away up the hill. Boone shouted after her, "I'm not trying to 'fall on a sword,' or whatever bullshit you just said!"
"Yes you are, Boone. You're trying to take personal responsibility for something … something that a lot of people are responsible for. I know you feel terrible. But that won't change it. Nothing can. Isn't dedicating yourself to doing good a stronger action than sulking and cursing yourself?" She hissed as her foot slipped sideways in a crack in the pavement, twisting her hurt ankle. She looked over her shoulder, "Do something. Make things better. If you're interested - I'll be in the sniper's nest, trying to open that goddamn box." She hobbled up the road away from him, leaving him standing alone.
As Elaine climbed up and over the rocky hill to get to the sniper's nest, she wouldn't allow herself to look back down at the cove. It had to be his choice. As much as she hoped he'd show up - as much as she wanted him here with her - she couldn't force him to change.
Finally reaching the makeshift shelter, she dropped down on her ass in front of the mysterious container. She'd found it a couple weeks ago, when they'd first come to scout out the area. She hadn't been able to open it then. Distractions had kept them from returning until today. She had promised him they'd come kill the legionaries.
And now, she'd left him.
Rummaging through her bag for bobby pins, she wondered if it was cruel to leave him there - she knew he was deeply conflicted. She had come to care about him, more so than she'd cared about anyone in a long time. It felt wrong to be here alone. Though he rarely spoke much, it still felt unnervingly quiet without him around.
She shook off the thoughts, and focused on picking the lock. The bobby pin snapped almost instantly. She groaned and started again; soon she had ruined a dozen pins. She let out a frustrated sigh and flopped onto her back. Looking up at the clouds, she knew it would probably rain later - maybe this evening. Where am I going to find shelter? Hiding in a cave or old shack by herself suddenly seemed very unappealing. She could stay here overnight, but eventually, she'd have to leave.
After a while, she felt footfalls coming her way. She sat upright, grabbing her rifle. The steps closed in, and Boone walked into view, holding his hands up in mock surrender. She fought to hold back a grin, trying her damnedest to give him a serious glare. She was not willing to just accept him back because he made a lame joke. No matter how funny it had been.
He sat down nearby, "I thought more about what you said. I think maybe you're right. Maybe I should go to Bitter Springs. I don't know what I'm hoping to find there. I guess I don't know if I believe in … making up for my mistakes. But, if you believe it, then I'll give it a try. I owe you that much."
To hear him say this, well, it felt … she wasn't sure. But it touched her that he would do it for her. "Okay. We'll start out in a bit." She grabbed another bobby pin, and broke it off inside the lock. "Fuuuuck," she groaned, dropping her face into her hands.
"Here, this might help," Boone said, reaching into his bag. He pulled out a ratty magazine - Locksmith's Reader. She took it from him, glancing at the cover. "I know you're are always picking up books and stuff, so I grabbed that one for you a few days ago. Seems relevant."
Slowly, she began looking it over. Her farm girl education didn't leave her with the best reading skills. And some of these words... a lot of it was far too technical for her. She looked up to see if Boone was watching her struggle, but he was already off by the edge of the cliff, ever vigilant.
Looking at one of the diagrams, she started to comprehend which part each of the fancy words was referring to. If I tilt a pin upwards to hit that mechanism, maybe I can reach in with a second to push in the further springy thing? She picked up a couple new pins and attempted to pry the lock again. This time, she could feel the second pin hit its objective, and with a slight twist, she heard it click. Feeling like a genius, she swung the trunk open. "Ohhh, look at this! It's beautiful."
Boone turned, and she could see his face light up instantly. The golden camouflage painted on the sniper rifle was perfect, like nothing she'd seen. Even more so than the rifle, she had to marvel at how fitting it was to find this here - now. It was like fate had determined that she was meant to open that lock at this very moment. Laying the gun flat in her palms, she held it up to Boone. "Try it out."
He took it, methodically adjusting the sights and then fussing over each and every possible inch of it. She waited patiently … finally he raised the scope to his eye, looking out across the river. Then he turned and sighted downhill toward the cove. He fired a shot, loud and clean. The echo returned soon, and he looked back down the sight. Judging by his expression of approval, she knew he must have hit his mark. "Nice."
She smiled, "It's yours, you know."
He eyed the rifle. "We could sell this for a shitload of caps. You don't see one like it everyday."
She laughed, "Please Boone. We'll find caps. I couldn't take that gun from you. It's like you were made for each other. If only you could see your face."
He cracked a smile, "Thanks." She started to get up, but he put his hand on her shoulder, stopping her.
"No, you should stay off that ankle until tomorrow. We won't make any time with you hobbling like an old lady anyway. We'll head out in the morning." She nodded; he was right.
After he injected a stimpak into her ankle, they sat together for a while, looking out over the river. "Elaine?" The way he said her name- she abruptly realized how much she liked it. God, am I falling for this guy? she wondered. They'd been together everyday for … jeez, at least a few months now. She wasn't sure how long anymore. He was definitely attractive... and-
Boone's gravelly voice interrupted her thoughts, "Hey. You there?"
She turned, feeling her cheeks flush, "Sorry... thinking about- … stuff. What is it?"
He turned to his pack, and fished out a red beret. She glanced up to his head and noted his was still in its usual place. "If you want, you can wear this." She looked at it, unsure of why he was doing this. "In 1st Recon, it was just you and your partner - no one else to rely on. The red beret was always an easy way to keep an eye on him. You've been looking out for me. Maybe I just didn't notice it before. I can watch your back in a fight better with it."
She took the hat from him, turning it over in her hands. "Should I really be wearing it if I'm not in the NCR?"
"I'm not either, anymore. You've done more for them than most soldiers. It's alright." She ran her fingers over the patch on the side. It was a little worn. Any other girl might have wanted a bouquet of flowers or jewelery, but this- … she couldn't think of anything that would have touched her more.
She pulled off her bandanna, noting as he glanced at her scar. Oddly it didn't bother her, like it did when other people noticed it. "Does it look that bad?"
He leaned over, brushing her hair away to examine it closer. His touch - it made her feel absolutely electric. Oh god... she was sure she must be blushing again. "Nah. Just looks like you got shot in the head by an idiot who'd never held a gun before." His rough fingers brushed her cheek as he removed his hand, sending a shiver down her spine. "You can't even see it when your hair's down."
Trying her best to distract herself from how hot she felt, she pulled on the beret. Cocking her head to the side with an eyebrow raised goofily: "Well?"
He chuckled, then reached over and turned it a bit so it was on straight. Leaning back to appraise her, he said finally, "Looks good."
She burst out in a smile, "Thanks, Boone."
With dinner, she produced some fresh apples that she had found earlier in the week. At the time, she had decided they were too rare and precious - that she should save for an exceptionally good day. Today, she decided, qualified as just that.
Later, when she settled down to sleep on the bedroll, the clouds broke and rain finally began to fall. Boone stood with a start over by the edge of the cliff where he had been sitting. Cradling his rifle to protect it from the rain, he jogged over to the shelter. It was of moderate size, but because of a partially collapsed roof, only a small portion was protected from the rain. She saw him hesitate and stop, not wanting to enter. For my sake, she knew.
She scoffed, "Don't be silly. Come here." Stepping inside, he squatted down and sat beside her, with his back turned. She closed her eyes, relaxing her sore muscles. The rain made a pleasant sound on the tin roof - kind of like a bunch of bullet casings being shaken in a can.
What kind of girl comes up with an analogy like that?
