Boone awoke to a dim room. People spoke outside the door as if he wasn't there. He groaned loudly and lifted his head from the back of the couch. He rubbed the strain from his neck and felt the warmth of the large comforter laid upon his lap. A ratty teddy bear was pressed into his hip and he could smell Lucky's scent all over the memento.

He stood and looked around the room and saw that the duffle bag that held all the keepsakes was gone. He let out a sigh and opened the door to Lucky's room. Lily was the first to greet him. She turned to face him and the scowl she had turned into a sneer. Veronica came out of the dining area and watched the empty exchange between the two.

"I thought you were going with them," Boone asked, his voice still bore the remnants of his exhaustion.

"The medication made me woozy. Little Jimmy wanted me to stay here till I felt better," the nightkin replied. Boone folded his arms and looked to the Scribe. She mouthed Lucky and continued into the game room. "So then she's already gone?"

Boone rang for the elevator and watched as the dial slowly moved as the elevator car made its rickety trek up the shaft. One of these days, this damn thing is going to crash and kill whoever is in it, he thought. The Victor bot watched him, its arms twitched, unsettling Boone with its garish glow. He grabbed his rifle from beside the door. It wasn't long before the doors opened with a shudder.

He stepped on and waited, again. It seemed to take longer than when he was to get on. He ran off the elevator before the doors had completely opened and out onto the Strip. He knew they were going to Bitter Springs, but had no clue of when they had left. The lead they had on him seemed daunting, but he knew how to get there. It wasn't something that he would forget.

He walked the road, picturing the soldiers of his squad with him. It was almost like a dirge of footsteps, the rattle of dogtags and jingle of loose ammunition. The places he'd been to, like Camp Golf had sprouted up and matured into a large installation. Training was breaking the peaceful slumber of a late morning. Gunfire and hand grenades blew large plumes of dust into the air. It was a resort he regretted being sent to.

Boone kept walking as he tried to leave that part of his past behind him and enter another a chapter that should have never been written. He tried not to think, not to remember all the bullshit that had befallen that stretch of world, that damn refugee camp. His thoughts only ceased when he came across the first signs of combat. Blood. His eyes followed the trail until he saw a body laying in the middle of the road. His breathe hitched and he hurried to it. He couldn't tell with the glare of the sun in his eyes if it was a civilian or soldier, or Lucky.

The closer he came he saw the fine musculature of the corpse and then the spiked tail. "Fuck." He stopped dead and pulled his gun. He looked around to see if any of its friends were around and sprinted as fast as he could past the train yard. He heard growling in the distance and heavy foot steps drawing closer. He didn't want to look behind him. The amount of dread and terror pushed his heart to near bursting.

He saw the graveyard of campers and cars in the distance. He knew he was almost there. He had to make it. He had to tell Lucky. He had to tell someone about Bitter Springs – his other major failure.

He couldn't tell Carla, didn't want her to know that dark shadow that he carried. Didn't want her perspective of him to change. She was the best thing to happen to him. He was a liar and a thief. He didn't deserve her and he did everything he could to make sure he never let her find out the details. His cross; his burden.

He saw the first signs of Bitter Springs, the large wooden sign that pointed him in the direction that drew him closer to his personal circle of hell. He could hear children, living children, not the ghosts of those he killed. He hesitated. It was a gateway he dreaded opening.

On the top of the hill, he saw a woman with the children. She stopped and looked at him. She waved slowly and the small throng of children swarmed around her. Her attention became split and she hurried away with them.

Boone began the slow walk up the hill and saw Lucky running around chasing the children. She was out of breath, but happy. Bubbly. It was a side he hadn't seen before. She was always distant, keeping her feelings far from her sleeve, but now she was singing "Ring Around the Rosy." She was completely oblivious to him, but another camp up behind him and let out a sigh. It startled the sniper from the picturesque view.

"Didn't think you'd see her like that, huh?" Arcade questioned with an amused snort.

"No," Boone replied, not taking his eyes off the young woman.

Lucky bent down to a small child that had fallen and helped her up. She dusted her off and began digging into her pants pocket. Tears trickled down the girl's face, but she waited patiently for whatever the woman was looking for. She made two fists and presented them to the child with a smile. The tot smiled back and pointed at the balled hand playfully. Lucky opened her hand and it was empty. The little girl gave her a look of sadness and then Lucky opened the other hand. Small gummy chews glistened faintly in her gloved hand. The child grinned and snatched the treats hungrily from her.

"She'd have made a great mother," Arcade pointed out.

Boone gave him a look of intrigue and shook his head.

"I don't think she would have been meant for that life," he uttered.

He couldn't picture her with the burgeoning belly full of child. The glow that only a mother would have. It seemed like she would have been alien. No, Carla, now she would have been a great mother if she had been given the chance, but now.

Boone's eyes fell to the ground as he thought about the merging of the two women. Carla's swollen abdomen on the small, scarred frame of Lucky. That picture, the imagining even with her brusque cold demeanor was beautiful. New life, the idea to begin again for a new generation. Maybe she would change, be a little happy. A little one would give her something – someone – to fight for. But it wasn't for Lucky no matter how the idea seemed intriguing for a social experiment.

"You don't give her enough credit," Arcade grumbled. "She's very maternal, very protective. If you weren't drowning yourself in the bottle as much as she's been telling me, then you would know this already."

"I didn't come here for a pep talk or intervention," Boone snapped back.

"Then why did you come? You were pretty adamant about not being here," Arcade questioned with frustration dripping on his words.

"I came to talk to her," Boone answered with a point to Lucky.

"If I know her as well as I do, then she'll probably be happy you came," Arcade said with a shake of the head. "She's still a child at heart."

Lucky finally gave him her full attention and the smile she had drooped slightly. She approached him and cocked her head. She gave him an inquisitive look and folded her arms.

"I'm glad you came," she softly remarked.

"I need to talk to you," he answered back with a whisper.

Lucky's arms fell to her side and she looked at Arcade. "What about?"

Boone glanced at the man and shook his head slowly. What he needed to tell her was for her and her alone. He wanted to give her the details of what happened, needed her to know why he was the way he was.

"Can we speak in private," Boone asked.

"Sure," Lucky answered with a confused look. "Umm, the doctor needs some help with check ups, Arcade. Do you mind?"

The doctor shrugged and began to walk towards the medical tent. When he was well and good away, Lucky ushered Boone toward the camp.

"I really wasn't expecting you to show up. And the fact that you wanted to talk about Bitter Springs made things all the more awkward. I knew you didn't want to talk about it and I didn't press, just like with the Carla issue. If you were going to say anything about it, it would be of your own volition." Lucky said, the sullen tone dripping through the speakers with the clacking of her lighter.

"So we walked. You talked. I listened. I watched you change. The way you walked, they way you stared blankly ahead as if you were reliving the moment. The graveyard drove home your pain when you stopped at one of the graves. I didn't know what to say or what to do. I hadn't had someone pour their heart out to me before. Never stuck around long enough to allow for it to happen, I guess."

They walked up a small outcropping and stood. Boone stared into the canyon. Lucky watched. He told her what happened. This was where they fired into the canyon. This is where the innocent died. The women, the children. The whole place was a clusterfuck covered in gun smoke and screams. Not just those of the dying, but officers screaming into comms trying to make the bloodbath stop. Miscommunication is what the final reports stated.

It wasn't that. This was bad intel and people trying to make up for it. Shoot till you had nothing left had a new meaning during that "miscommunication." It was there he'd lost faith in NCR and their officers. How could they have fucked up so damn bad that so many people - who didn't want to fight - have to die?

"Can we stay here for the night?" Boone asked, after he'd finished his tale.

Lucky looked to the sky and saw the setting sun.

"We could do that," she answered.

He could see she was trying to hold herself together. It was a tragedy and she had finally found out why the Khans were so cold about Bitter Springs. Granted, she had only been given one side, their side, to the story and now she had the other. She was grieving for both of them. No one came out clean in that.

Boone looked back to the makeshift graveyard and shuddered. How many of his rounds had perforated one of those people? How many had he killed? Children? Women? He was no better than the Legion and what they do. How could he live with that kind of thinking? He pulled his sidearm and glanced at it briefly. It almost seemed fitting for it to stop here. He didn't know if he could keep fighting and running. Running from the past or the debt that he owed karma. He deserved to be dead.

"It's not worth giving your gun a blow job over," Lucky said sadly. "Trust me."

Boone glanced over his shoulder to the woman sitting on the ground. A small fire crackled between them. He didn't realize how long he'd been standing there or thinking about it. The sun had disappeared and he'd left Lucky to her devices for him. She could have been sleeping on a bed with a roof over her head tonight, and yet, she was here with him, giving him her large, sad, child-like eyes.