Boone unslung his pack, turning back to Elaine, "I'd like to stay for the night. Think some things over."
"Sure, we can do that." She stood next to him, looking off toward Bitter Springs aloofly. Despite her behavior, he knew she was watching him, concerned.
"Alright. We won't stay for long." He pulled out his rifle - their unspoken signal that he'd take the first watch.
Boone sat by the fire, looking out over Canyon 37. Elaine lay on the bedroll nearby, her back to him. He was pretty sure she wasn't asleep; he wondered what she was thinking about. She's probably staying up wondering what's going through my head, he realized. If anyone had pried into his life like this before he'd met her, he would have … he wasn't sure. Probably would've knocked them out. But her … he was starting to find a hell of a lot of comfort in knowing that she cared.
He reached into his pocket, finding the note he'd written Carla just over two years ago. The one he wanted her to have if he'd died. He began to read it, not really needing to look at the handwriting on the paper, he knew it so well:
Carla,
If you're reading this, then you know. Sorry. Wanted to make it back home to you.
The pension won't be much, but it'll help you and the baby get by. Want you to remarry when you meet the right person. Don't want you to have to be on your own.
…
He stopped reading and lowered his hand with an exhale. He did still love Carla. He knew he always would. But that felt … well it felt okay, now. Like it was just a part of him. He wasn't big on words, he didn't care much to try and label it. Looking over to Elaine, he considered his own feelings for her. In the past, those feelings had been tempered by guilt. More than anything, he didn't want what happened to Carla to happen to her, too. But now, it was becoming more difficult to avoid thinking of her. Wanting her.
On that night when she'd saved his life after the cazador attack, he had opened his eyes to find himself a drink of water ... but instead had seen her across from him. He was transfixed. He knew he shouldn't be watching without her knowing, but it was like he couldn't take his eyes off her. Observing her small form illuminated by the light of the fire, he admired how she didn't flinch when she stitched herself up.
Despite the scars, his eyes had devoured the lean feminine curves of her back and neck, her slender arms, her long hair draped over her shoulder. There was no denying what it was that he had felt. But at that point, he'd felt shamed at the same time for lusting after her. Not really because she was another woman. Mostly it was because he felt he would just hurt her by loving her. But now ... well, he still wasn't sure. After what she'd said at Cottonwood Cove, he wanted to take the plunge and just say fuck it, but... he still didn't know if he could let himself.
He looked back down to the note one final time. Turning his hand over, he released it into the fire. As it burned, it curled and folded in on itself over and over, until it was just a tiny ball of ash.
He reached behind him, carefully grabbing another piece of dead cactus to burn. Normally he wouldn't keep the fire going all night, but they were so close to Bitter Springs, there really was no danger in it. It was just about the only comfortable thing about being in this place. He leaned back and stretched his legs out in front of him, keeping his feet warm by the fire.
As his eyes moved over the landscape, he recalled the conflict he felt when carrying out his orders. 'Shoot anything that moves.'The sting of regret was still there, but it seemed further away, dulled. In his mind, the closest thing he could liken it to was when you break a bone. It never feels the same again, but ... it does heal. He was genuinely surprised at how different he felt from the last time he was here. Distinctly different. He wasn't sure if that was a sign that Elaine was right - or just another bad omen.
It was well past time for Elaine to take over watch, but Boone let her rest. Being here, he knew he wouldn't sleep anyway. Better to let her get some. He looked absentmindedly over at her; she was still laying on her side, with her back to the fire. In her hands, she held the beret he'd given her. He had come across it in the bottom of his bag that day at the cove, and it just felt like she should have it. She and he were partners, after all. Regarding her, it was hard for him to remember what those first nights together were like - how she'd always sleep with her back to a wall and with a gun in her hand. Things were so different now.
Out of the corner of his eye, he sighted movement in the distance. Standing, he looked down his scope. Legion. Shit. He felt a sense of dread rise in him. Maybe this is it. He stepped over to Elaine and reached down, touching her shoulder. "Hmm?" she woke with a start.
"Something's wrong. Got a group coming our way. I think it's a Legion raiding party. It's big." She sat up, swiftly gathering her rifle from the ground next to her. He continued to grip her shoulder, and she looked up at him, confused. He knew what he thought was coming. Looking at her, he suddenly felt guilty for bringing her here. "Might be too big. Even for us."
"What?" she looked incredulous.
"I'm going to stay, see if I can hold them off. Protect the camp. I can't ask you to do the same."
"Boone, I'm not going anywhere." She picked up the red beret and pulled it onto her head and checked her rifle's chamber, as if punctuating the sentence. "This just means we don't have to go to the trouble of finding them."
Despite his own trepidation, he couldn't help but smile at her words. As they moved out, he slapped her lightly on the back, "That's my girl." Wait, had he said that? Out loud? Shit. He didn't look behind him to see her reaction - he wasn't sure what to expect from her. Instead, he just picked up a jog to intercept the Legion.
When it was all over, he stood in the midst of Bitter Springs, breathing heavily. Bodies of legionaries and their dogs were strewn all around him. The attack had been well-planned, and there were far more enemies than he had expected. He was honestly surprised to still be standing. He turned, looking for Elaine, but didn't see her. "Elaine?" he called, trying to not let himself panic. There was no response. Ducking under the support ropes of a refugee tent, he moved toward the center of the camp. "Elaine?" His eyes moved over the ground from body to body, searching with dread for her small form.
Shit, if I've done this to her... "Elaine!" he shouted with much more urgency.
"Boone!" he finally heard her grunt back. Pinpointing the source of her voice, he saw that she was collapsed with her back against the side of a tent, underneath some Khan graffiti. In front of her lay a pile of three dead legionaries. He ran over, kneeling in front of her.
"You okay?" he asked, his voice cracking with concern. He reached for her face, lifting up her sagging chin.
"I-" she coughed raggedly, "I- can't … breathe..." Another wet cough. "I think I'm hit."
He looked down at her chest. It was a dark moonless night, but he could tell there was a puncture in her armor. Blood dripped freely down her chest from the wound. "Shit!" He reached around her, lifting her in his arms. She groaned, struggling for breath. He ran with her uphill toward the medical tent, taking the steps two at a time.
"Boone- … oh fuck," she coughed up blood, "stop shaking me..." and then she passed out, going limp as he ran.
"We need help here! Now!" he barked at Lieutenant Markland as he raced into the doctor's tent and set her on the nearest examining table.
Markland appraised her and immediately went into action. He ripped off her chest armor, and started cutting away her undershirt. Boone winced, looking away. She would not like this. If she lived. Fuck. He felt suddenly very sick. Trying to hold back his nausea, he doubled over, gripping the tent support pole next to him. Without looking back he asked, "You need anything, Doc?" Behind him, he could hear the doctor roll a medical cart over to her with the metallic rattle of surgical tools.
"No, soldier … I just need time." After a pause, "Looks like a bullet... probably lodged in her lung. Just wait outside, I don't need you revisiting your dinner in here. I'll do my best. Afterwards, I'll come find you."
Boone did as asked, stepping outside the medical tent. He felt helpless. All he could do was pace back and forth by the fire. Waiting for over an hour, he fought to block his mind from thinking about her. Bleeding to death. He prayed that this Doc Markland was good. A few of the soldiers came by to thank him for his help, and a refugee offered him some food. He didn't want any of it, dismissing them curtly. He was no help to anyone. If she dies...
"Sir?" Markland tapped him on the shoulder.
"Is she alright?" Boone asked anxiously, turning to face the man.
"She's going to be just fine, soldier." Boone didn't wait for him to say anything else. He immediately entered the tent to go see her. The lieutenant followed, explaining further, "The bullet was lodged in her lung, like I'd suspected. Lucky her armor slowed it down. I've got her all stitched up. Really very minimal damage. She'll need to take it easy for a few days, but she should make a quick and full recovery."
Boone stood by Elaine, examining her. She'd already been bandaged up, and the Doc had put a blanket over her for modesty and warmth. Other than being a bit pale, she just looked like she was asleep. "When will she wake?"
Markland was finishing up bandaging another soldier, who had been brought in with a machete wound to his side. "Should be pretty soon. Surgery was fast, didn't need to knock her out much. You can wait, as long as you stay out of the way."
Boone nodded. He sat next to her for a while, just absorbing the fact that she was going to live. He noticed something red on the floor - her beret. It must have fallen off her head when he'd brought her in, he realized. He picked it up, and stood to lay it next to her. Leaning over her, he saw that she still had some dried blood on her face. He reached into his bag, getting something to clean her up with. Wiping it from her cheek and lips, he was struck by how delicate she looked. Why had he brought her here? If she hadn't been here with him, this wouldn't have happened to her.
His heart filling with emotion, he touched her face, feeling her warm cheek under his hand. She roused at his touch, groaning. Opening her eyes, she squinted at the light hanging over her head. She reached up and felt her bandaged chest gingerly, "Shit. I'm not dead?"
Markland moved quickly to her side, checking her wrist for her vitals, "You got lucky."
She winced, her eyes heavy and unfocused from all the drugs. "Always with this luck thing. I've gotta stop doing that." She turned to Boone at her side, "So how many did we get?"
He shook his head, "Way more than I thought we could. We made it through after all. Not sure what to think about that."
"Hah," she blinked slowly, "I wasn't going to let you die."
He felt overwhelmed with emotion, but also confused. "I don't mean disrespect. It's a hell of a thing having someone with your ability looking out for me. But I've come to believe that there are things nobody can stop. I thought for sure that's what we'd finally come up against today. It would've made sense for things to end here. But now ... I'm still waiting."
Even with her all drugged up, he noted the same annoyed look rise to her face. She grew serious, despite slightly slurred words. "Goddamn it, Boone. No one is judging you." Markland glanced up, realizing he was in the middle of a private conversation and silently excused himself to the other side of the tent.
After he'd gone, Boone replied bitterly, "If that's how it is, there's not a lot of comfort in knowing it."
"Bad things happen; good things happen. That stuff isn't under our control. But you've got to realize what's happened to you isn't a punishment. It's just life." She reached up and touched his face, brushing off dirt he didn't know was there. He saw something powerful in her eyes - affection. There was no doubt. It had been so long since anyone had looked at him like that. "Hasn't anything good happened to you since Bitter Springs?" Elaine asked finally.
He could think of two things. Two people - Carla... and her. Shit, he couldn't say that. Look at her! She could've died. Because of me. Instead, he pushed her hand away and and turned to the side. He wanted her to touch him, he wanted so much from her, but he just was too afraid to let it happen. He couldn't let himself be the reason that something bad happened to her again. He was so fucking frustrated. "I don't know what I'm supposed to do about all this."
In his periphery, he could see a hurt expression on her face for a second, but she quickly masked it with seriousness again. "You can't take back what you've done. But your regrets can set you on a better path."
"I guess they brought us here. One less Legion raiding party running loose now. Never a bad thing, but I guess you know that. Still sorta feels like I'm living on borrowed time. I don't know. Maybe we all are. No matter- I don't see any reason not to take a lot more of those sons of bitches with me. You got a point. There's still some things I can do before all this is over."
Saying nothing, she just turned away from him and closed her eyes. He knew she was angry with him - for closing up again. Maybe he was being stubborn. But wasn't that worth it? To keep her safe? Not knowing anything else to do or say, he stepped out of the tent, nodding at the Doc to let him know he was through. Shit. What the hell was he supposed to do with all this? Sleep deprived and both mentally and physically exhausted, all he could do was slouch down by the tent's entrance and put his face in his hands.