Note: Here's another long chapter to make up for my slow updates lately! I'll be on my week off again soon so I'll hopefully get a chance to post more frequently. Thank you to everyone, for reading and especially to those who take the time to review! I know Lyra and the storyline itself may seem like a clusterfuck, but trust me, there is method to my madness! Thank you again, everyone!

Obligatory, random disclaimer: I own nothing except Lyra's madness – the rest is all Bethesda and Obsidian goodness.

"Hgggnnnn…"

Lyra groaned deeply into her pillow the second she had closed the door behind her and leapt onto the bed.

Whiskey; meet ill-advised courage.

Whatever had convinced her of the brilliant idea had conveniently disappeared, Lyra left with nothing but an awkward wrench deep inside of her. She knew what she had done was wrong and intrusive… but she had enjoyed doing it simultaneously; the gaps in her judgment left Lyra feeling as if a link in the chain was missing. The man's wife was dead, for how long Lyra didn't know-

-That doesn't matter, remember? Because you made a mistake, right?

He had shot his own wife. What if Boone was not as he appeared to be? There was an incredible probability that Boone was nothing but a sociopath, taking advantage of naïveté amongst locals and travelers.

No… I can feel it from him. There's much more than those cold eyes show…

On the other side of the spectrum however, Boone was just an immensely damaged man. He went out of his way to protect her and be her companion… considering Lyra had little one else to depend on, the attachment was inevitable. Regardless of his hard, loner exterior Lyra could see broken pieces of who he had been; his humanity was still there, just tricky to coax out. They were survivors together, of both their own traumas and ones shared. The truth was Lyra knew that a bond was created when fighting for one's life for she had felt it, maybe even before she had met Boone. She couldn't help but feel the growing connection was acting like a trigger; each shots impact opening a wound of sensations. Sights… smell… taste – it wasn't just her physical surroundings, it was running at a deeper level. Boone had become an integral part of her life; the more they travelled only entangling their companionship further. When it becomes having to rely on that person as much as they do you… how could you not feel love?

Time out, time out! You… are nothing more than a drunken harlot – do not kid yourself.

Lyra's mind had been a fuck show the last couple days; her common sense was out of whack; her emotions a chaotic tangle. Regardless of the boost connecting with House had given Lyra, it would be foolish of her to truly trust her decision making abilities.

Maybe helping out Old King Shingles was not one of your better decisions? So… then you agree with, Boone?

No, not entirely. Lyra was grateful for the cryptic man's hospitality, even his peculiarly calm demeanor regarding her spectacular failure. Though she did not trust House, she knew he was the type to uphold a business deal. If what he and Jane had explained was true – and the physical facts spoke for themselves on this one – the man didn't seem intent on destroying the world. Quite the contrary, he seemed quite hell-bent on… rebuilding. At least New Vegas. As long as Lyra ensured she got her end of the bargain, they could both cash out evenly and she'd be happy. All she wanted was some semblance of who she was.

Stifling another groan, Lyra pulled her Pip-Boy to her nose; it was not too late in the evening and she wasn't going to be sleeping at any rate. Shaky hands slid down Lyra's face as she sat up on her bed, plopping her head in the palm of her hand as she sighed. She couldn't keep her mind off of Boone; she knew she owed him an apology for crossing something that was surely a boundary for him. Steeling her will, Lyra timidly opened her door and tip toed to the living room, her nerves through the roof as she saw Boone's broad shoulders and the back of his neck. He was sitting with his back against the arm of the couch, his beret off and draped over the couches backing. Lyra could not clearly see his face or where his hands sat.

"What?"

Lyra took a deep breath and nervously stepped back over to the couch, the beginning of their conversation off to a horribly expected start. As Lyra came in full view of Boone she noticed the man now had one of the expensive-looking bottles of whiskey clutched in a large hand, a second empty bottle lying on the floor beside him. Lyra stared at the bottle in Boone's hand warily even as he brought it up to his lips, the sniper taking a deep gulp while Lyra watched his Adam's apple bob from swallowing the liquid. She rubbed one hand up her opposite arm as she stood before him, too uncomfortable to sit.

Two and a half bottles in ten minutes? I thought this wasn't going to be a problem, Boone…

Lyra sighed to herself and decided to cut the awkward silence, her eyes refusing to meet Boone's, "I'm sorry. That was out of line."

Boone looked up at Lyra, his brows creasing in a frown. Though the man had downed nearly two full bottles of whiskey, he still remained eerily composed.

"Heh. Yeah."

Lyra felt her throat tighten and she nodded mutely, unaware of what else to offer. He had lost his wife, his child… his life. The only thing Boone wanted ever again was his revenge on Caesar… and what Lyra suspected, a fitting death prior to, during or following that ambition. Lyra had a pretty good idea about why he had given in to his darker temptations tonight, though it still rattled her to the core. The silent sniper had been her rock… the sight of him having a private break down only filled her with a deeper shame. In a place that surely sent an assault of memories back to him, she had invaded a private physical boundary that had once belonged to the one person who deserved it. She'd been wrong to cross that line and now she was paying for it.

"Boone… I-"

"Lyra, life has a way of punishing you for the mistakes you make. Big enough mistake, punishment can take a while. Mine's not over yet," Boon rumbled from the couch, the only indication of his intoxication being a slight slurring of his words. The torment emanating from them was a different story.

Wha-where did that come from?

"Boone if you feel that I've compromised our companionship then… just tell me. If you want to go back to Novac, there's nothing I would have to say," Lyra explained, feeling the heat rise in her cheeks a bit. Was it petty of her to feel offended that she had now joined his list of mistakes?

"It's not that," Boone's voice was tight, caught somewhere between his usual growl and a whisper, "I have bad things coming to me. Pretending it wasn't so did nothing to change that fact; just made it worse. People I cared about wound up hurt in the process. If you get too close, you will, too."

What does that mean?

Lyra's face softened and she slowly stepped forward, taking a seat in the opposite corner of the couch before resting her elbow on its back, her knuckles pressed to the side of her head, "Is it because of Bitter Springs that you think you have bad things coming? You're not a bad person, Craig and… whatever mistakes you may have made, your good outweighs it," She whispered softly, watching as Boone continued to drink out of the dusty bottle.

Boone swallowed bitterly as he chugged the remaining dregs of the whiskey. Lyra jumped as he suddenly threw it across the room, the bottle smashing into the wall behind her. Craig groaned and rubbed at his eyes before he stood and went back to the liquor cabinet, hastily grabbing another bottle before he sat down across from Lyra again. For a brief moment their eyes met and Lyra felt a stab of guilt when she saw the anguish in the man's eyes. Boone twisted off the cap of the bottle and took another gulp before setting it down on the floor beside him, bringing his hands into his lap as he awkwardly cracked his knuckles, rubbing his hands together as he stared at the carpet for a minute. Lyra bit her bottom lip, feeling herself on uneven ground before Boone took in a deep breath, turning his head to look at Lyra.

"A murderer who does good deeds is still a murderer. And he'll still get his judgment."

The severity of Boone's words sunk in and Lyra felt ashamed for believing the man was merely on a suicidal, revenge fueled rampage. Though she certainly felt the former was true, the latter had suddenly become much more complicated. It wasn't a blind revenge that drove the man… it was an all-encompassing guilt for the lives he had taken, Carla's and otherwise. He wanted death… atonement for whatever sins he believed he was guilty of. Boone had never told Lyra anything about his tour of duty but she was not ignorant of the expectations of soldiers; Boone had seen and done things - coupled with the personal trauma of his wife's death - that would throw anyone's moral compass out of whack. The man was working on a clearly self-imposed dead line, his eagerness for retribution upon him completely off base of Lyra's original assumption.

"I left the NCR when my tour was up. Had enough of war," Boone's words sounded sickened, "Decided I was gonna start over. None of it made a difference in the end."

Lyra frowned at the bitterness in Boone's voice, fighting the urge to yank his hands free of the bottle he was bringing back to his lips, "Boone, you've endured so much…. How do you know your punishment hasn't already come and gone? If there's even punishment at all?"

"Because I'm still alive."

Lyra's body reacted before her mind could protest as she pushed herself towards his side of the couch, her hand pushing the bottle away from his lips as she brought her arms around his neck and held him tightly.

I don't fucking care how much you hate this you drunk; I take back my apology, damn it!

"Not everyone who falters is damned," She whispered, ignoring the hand that attempted to push her away and the abrupt manner his body stiffened under her touch when she finally succeeded to press herself closely against him. Her fingers gripped the fabric of his shirt as she held him, spurred on by the feeling of his body faintly relaxing into her touch. His one hand that had been pushing against her ribs now slowly clutched her in turn, the other hand dropping the bottle of whiskey to the floor, its contents spilling onto the floor as his arm began to hesitantly wrap around Lyra's waist and back. Her breath caught as she felt him yank her closer and the two sat ensnared for a few moments in painful silence, Lyra's hand absent-mindedly rubbing the stubble of hair on the back of his head.

"Would it help to return to Bitter Springs? We could go there. I'll make House wait if I have to."

Boone let out a quiet, sour laugh.

"Bitter Springs… Carla… When I realized I had lost whatever was left of me after, I made myself a promise. I wanted to forget all of it. Didn't work out that way," Boon turned his eyes to meet Lyra's, his hand reaching up to trace a calloused finger down her machete scar, "You're not the only one getting flashbacks in this place. It's hard enough here… Bitter Spring's is a memory I don't want refreshed."

Lyra nodded as her eyes bore into Boone's, her hand sliding from the back of his head to rub behind his ears, finally resting under his jaw line. Boone closed his eyes to her touch and Lyra felt the words come out of her mouth before she had time to stop.

"How long… has Carla been gone?"

Boone lowered his gaze from hers and sighed, "Two years… I rotted in that god damn dinosaur for two years before you… came up the road," he whispered as a hand trailed up her back, his fingers burying themselves in her soft hair. Lyra slowly drew her face closer to his, the tips of their noses grazing as she felt his warm breath across her skin. Her lips brushed against his and she felt Boone push back, the hand in her hair gripping the locks between his fingers tightly as he pressed his lips against hers. Lyra opened her mouth to welcome him further, stifling a groan as he pulled her closer against him.

"Carla..."

Immediately Lyra pulled away and looked at Boone in horror, disgusted with herself above all else. She couldn't place whatever emotions Boone was feeling as his stony visage had been instantly restored the second Lyra had pulled herself away from him.

"I can't do this," She whispered, her eyes watering from the immense guilt that was boiling over. Boone was drunk and not in a good place. Lyra knew better.

Don't I?

"You're right. This was a mistake," Boone growled as he pulled his hand away from Lyra's hair and slowly pushed her off of him as he stood up from the couch, his turn to leave her alone and silent. Lyra watched as he stumbled towards the spare room across the hall, the slamming of his door causing Lyra to jump.

"God damn it," Lyra groaned shakily and sat back down on the couch, burying her face into her hands. Boone had wanted what was happening, his enthusiasm apparently on par with Lyra's. The problem was their mutual intoxication and now, their relationship had become complicated in a way Lyra had never intended. Had Boone been thinking of Carla the entire time? It was likely; the uttering of her name had brought Lyra to a slamming halt in front of a sign that read "Reality!"

I can't do this. I can't go to bed and pretend nothing happened tomorrow!

Lyra nodded to herself and made her way to Boone's room, refusing to knock on the door as she grabbed the handle and pushed it open. Boone was lying on his back in the bed, one arm tucked behind his head while his other hand rubbed at his eyes. When he realized Lyra was standing in the doorway, Boone sat up with a jolt and stared in aggravation at her.

"What the hell are you doing? Get out."

Lyra marched up to the foot of his bed and crossed her arms defiantly, "No. We need to sort this shit out pronto. You may be ok with smothering inconvenient truths but I don't work that way."

Boone glared at her, his mouth turning into an ugly sneer, "Would it be more convenient for you if I left tomorrow, then?"

Lyra groaned in frustration and ran her hand through her hair, "No! I… I don't want you to leave, please…" her voice grew smaller, "I just… want to know what just happened."

"I had too much to drink. Won't happen again. Now go to bed."

"Boone…"

"Lyra, I mean it. Leave me alone."

Lyra glared at Boone and shook her head, determined to look more pissed off than hurt. Without a second thought she balled her hand into a fist and sent it on a meet-and-greet to Boone's angular face. Boone's head snapped back and he coughed a mouthful of blood onto the clean sheets, his hand reaching up slowly to rub off whatever remained on his face.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" He seethed, shooting up from his bed to tackle Lyra to the floor. Lyra let out a yelp as all of the large man's weight slammed into her, the wind being knocked out of her as her back slammed into the floor. Lyra grunted and wedged her knee into the man's abdomen, jutting her thigh out hard.

"God damn it," Boone hissed, his bulky arms trying to contain Lyra's flailing limbs, "You've fucking lost it!"

"I've lost it? You're the one who's too pussy to accept he made some fucking mistakes! Put your fucking vagina away! You're so pathetically defeated – the self-loathing schtick gets old fast, asshole!" Lyra growled, half grunting as she struggled to wiggle out of Boone's grasp. She finally slipped through one of his arms vice like grips and kicked her way from the tough man, scrambling to the other side of the room. Boone looked pissed and Lyra wasn't so sure she would come out of this. Boone's close-quarter combat training may not have been extensive, but Lyra wasn't going to kid herself; Boone was a big boy and without a weapon, she didn't stand much of a damned chance.

"Who the hell do you think you are?" Boone seethed as he menacingly took a step towards her, "Your disgustingly holier-than-thou act is a joke. Not singing the same tune anymore, are we?"

"I just want you to fucking talk to me for once!"

"So you punch me in the face?"

Lyra scowled at Boone, "Yes – You're being a dickbag! I don't handle mixed signals well; I have a hard enough time deciphering you as it is; now I don't know where the fuck I am!"

"Oh no, no – fuck that. Don't play this game with me. You were the one sending those signals," Boone pointed his finger angrily at Lyra, "You got drunk, you kissed me, left and came back for seconds. I just shouldn't have let it get that far."

"Well you did," Lyra coolly pointed out, "So where the hell does this leave us?"

Boone crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes as he studied Lyra, "I don't know."

The two stood awkwardly before each other, both completely at a loss with their seething anger. Lyra would never admit it to Boone but she knew where he was coming from. It was a pain in her ass to even admit it to herself but Lyra did not function normally. Craig was right; she had damn well instigated the whole thing, the constant tug of back and forth disorienting both participants easily. On the other hand however, Lyra was growing tiresome of Boone's constant lock outs. When it came to the man's past she could recede but now things had become complicated between them. Lyra's thought processes were so chaotic from that alone, the possibility of not receiving some clarity from Boone would send her teetering over the ledge she was already precariously perched on. She needed Boone, and she had a sneaking suspicion the man was beginning to feel the same. It put them at an impasse but Lyra knew she deserved something from him but as per usual, she was painfully shot down.

No, maybe it's time to do some things on your own. Just leave it for now.

"I'm going to bed. Tomorrow, I'm dealing with Benny. You can stay here and wait for me, go back to Novac or jump off a fucking cliff for all I care. Just stay away from me for now," Lyra said quietly, unfolding her arms and dropping them to her sides. She looked upon Boone sadly and turned away, just as Boone's own face began to soften into nothing more than a smoldering sense of pain. As Lyra closed her door behind her she heard Boone's do the same. She dropped her robe to the floor and climbed into bed, hoping to high hell she wasn't going to regret her decision when she came face-to-face with the man who shot her.

"Now you're lookin' a little lost, soldier. Need some directions?"

Boone turned in the direction of the voice that had spoken to him- momentarily freed of his overwhelmed stupor. He had just walked out of the monorail from McCarran and made his way onto the Strip, the onslaught of sounds and sights a bit much for someone who grew up on a Brahmin ranch in California. There was a plethora of fellow troops flooding the whole place, Boone uncomfortable with the attention he was receiving from the intoxicated females, let alone the prostitutes outside of Gomorrah. Boone shook his head and turned to see the owner of the voice was a pretty blonde girl who stood with her arms crossed behind him, a lighthearted smirk on her sweet face.

"I'm going to take that as a yes," She smiled, flashing Boone brilliant white teeth as she walked up to him. She blushed slightly and held out her hand, "I'm Carla, welcome to The Strip."

"Ma'am," Boone nodded and gently took Carla's hand in his, "First Sergeant Craig Boone."

"Now sergeant, are you lookin' for some buddies of yours?"

"Yes."

Carla chuckled and flashed Boone another big smile, "Ok then. Where at? Tops? Gomorrah? It's usually Gomorrah… you boys sure do love their girls."

Boone had heard enough stories about Gomorrah to know what Carla was getting at. Embarrassingly enough for him, it was indeed the spot Manny had told him their rooms were booked. Boone suddenly wasn't so keen on making his way there. He coughed awkwardly and avoided Carla's patient stare.

"Unsure ma'am – I'm still waititng on my buddies to arrive. Was going to wander until then."

"Craig, I've lived in New Vegas my whole life and it's not often I can find such a polite, potential escort. It's mutually beneficial – I get to walk around un-harassed for once, and you get to see the sights. Does that sound okay to you?"

Boone observed the woman smiling kindly at him and couldn't help but feel the wall around him crumble.

God damn, she is pretty.

Craig nodded and extended his elbow out for the young woman, feeling his stomach jump hoops as she slipped her arm through his. She blushed deeply and looked up at him, biting her lower lip as curiosity filled her features.

"Now where did you learn manners like this, Craig?"

"My Ma was pretty adamant."

Carla let out a chuckle and shook her head, "Let me guess; farm boy?"

"How could you tell?"

"Like the muscles weren't indication enough," Carla quipped, patting Boone's forearm lightly with her hand, "I can see clearly enough you're an NCR soldier, but the nice ones were usually ranchers first."

Boone coked his eyebrow and felt a tinge of wariness, "The nice one's? You met a lot of us?"

"Enough. I live here Craig, let's be honest now. I can't walk five feet without bumping into one of you troops," Carla admonished, giving Boone a slight tug in the direction of the gate to where The Tops was.

"Let's get a drink in The Tops; it's my favorite. Good enough food, too. Everyone will tell you Ultra Luxe is the best but I don't agree. There's something wrong with that place."

"Alright."

Carla and Boone made their way over to the doors of The Tops, Carla turning to Boone outside the door.

"You're not carrying are you?"

"Not supposed to be."

Carla nodded and smiled in relief as the two entered the casino.

"'Ey Carla, welcome back."

Carla absently waved at the man watching the doors, waiting patiently as he checked Boone and her for weapons. She said goodbye and lead Boone further in, the two headed for the stairs.

"The Aces theatre is a good time, usually. They need some more acts but the liquors' always good," Carla explained as they climbed the stairs.

"Don't want to gamble?"

"Not usually. I like to keep the Caps I have," Carla explained. The two made their way into the theatre, Boone glancing at the stage to see a group of men crooning to the crowd. He followed Carla to a booth towards the back of the place, Carla sitting happily across from him. Boone didn't know what to say so he remained silent, turning his head to watch the performers as he awkwardly sat across from the stunning woman. He heard Carla stifle a giggle and she rose from her seat, standing in front of him beside the table.

"I guess I'll go get us some drinks then."

Boone snapped out of his trance and cleared his throat awkwardly, rising from his seat before gesturing to Carla to sit back down.

"Please ma'am, I can manage just fine."

Carla shrugged and sat back down as Boone turned to make his way to the bar. Half way there he sighed to himself and embarrassingly made his way back to where Carla sat. He didn't know how to feel about the amused smile she had across her lips. Boone didn't even have to open his mouth before Carla kindly spoke.

"Rye and ginger please, handsome."

Boone nodded and silently made his way back to the bar, feeling more than slightly foolish. Perhaps this breach in his usual demeanor had been an embarrassing mistake. Craig wasn't used to women – he'd spent most of his young adulthood alone in the hills of his family's ranch, keeping an eye out for coyote and Yao Gui. Once he joined the military, any interactions with fellow female soldiers were strictly professional. Boone was out of his element, fraternizing with a local civvie leaving him in uncharted territory.

"What can I get you, sir?"

Boone looked up at the bartender and rested his palms on the edge of the counter, "Rye and ginger and a Scotch on the rocks, please."

The bartender nodded and Boone looked back over to make sure Carla was still sitting at the booth, half of him convinced she'd already run off. When he saw her wave at him he couldn't contain the stupid smile that spread across his face. It wasn't that Boone had never received any attention from the opposite sex – hell, his first twenty minutes in New Vegas proved that – but this girl didn't just seem to want in his pants. She was polite and appeared exceptionally proper, something Boone liked. Being in the military had a habit of turning some females crass and over confident – corporal Betsy prominent in his mind- Boone was unable to deny his desire for something a little softer around the edges. He felt unusually relaxed around Carla, if not slightly awkward due to his inexperience.

"Your drinks, sir."

"Thank you," Boone swiped the two glasses off the bar between the fingers of his one hand, his other hand reaching into his pocket to dump a small pile of Caps onto the bars surface. He nodded at the bartender and made his way back over to the booth, gently placing Carla's glass before her. He sat down and accepted her cheers, clinking his glass against hers before they both took a sip.

"So Craig, tell me a little about yourself. I'm curious."

Boone cleared his throat and awkwardly toyed with the glass in his hands, "Not much to say, ma'am. Born and raised in the NCR, lived on a Brahmin ranch far West and was conscripted into the military. Now I'm here – currently on leave from Camp McCarran."

"The red beret is certainly a fashion statement."

"I'm First Recon, ma'am."

"Cut out the 'ma'am' thing, my name is Carla," She said as she rolled her eyes playfully, "What does your unit do? I've never seen any other NCR personnel in hats like yours."

"Sniper unit… Miss Carla."

"Interesting. Never fired a rifle myself. I bet I'd be a lousy shot, anyway," Carla smiled ruefully and took a deep swig of her rye and ginger. Boone smirked and did the same to his own drink.

"What about you, Miss Carla?"

Carla gave a great stretch and dropped her hands from the air to fiddle with the strands of her long blonde hair, "Well, like I said I've lived in the Strip my whole life pretty much. Have some close friends in Freeside just as much in the Casino's – it's paradise in the Wasteland… I just wish more could share it, especially those in Freeside."

"Didn't think locals of such a fancy place would want to share."

"Most don't. I've seen other parts of the Wasteland, though. People need help and it could happen if House didn't rule based on mere economic prosperity. Letting in 'riff-raff,' as he'd say, would diminish The Strip's value," Carla said bitterly as she took another swig of her drink. Boone looked at her curiously.

"Why stay?"

Carla sighed and looked at Boone hopelessly, "I don't know where to go to be honest. All I've ever known is this place. I've got unfinished business here, friends, family... From what I've seen of the Wastes, I admit to retaining some serious apprehension."

Boone nodded approvingly, "That's smart. It's dangerous out there, Carla. You're safe here."

"Anyone behind bar's is safe, Craig."

Boone chewed on the inside of his cheek as he contemplated Carla's words, wondering exactly how she felt about living on The Strip. There was sadness behind her words and it was clear to Boone that she loved her home. How Carla, or any citizens of New Vegas, truly felt about their enigmatic ruler's system was foreign to Craig; he could understand however, that Carla felt there was room for improvement. Most citizens of any state maintain some form of complaint against their ruling government. New Vegas couldn't be any different. Craig wanted to ask Carla where she actually lived but thought better of it; he didn't want to come off as creepy.

"If you'd like, I can walk with you to Gomorrah. I'm sure you're anxious to meet your friends. I've taken up so much of your time as it is," Carla blushed as she slid out of the booth, standing shyly before Boone. He rose to his feet and held his arm out for Carla again, the pair making their way out of the theatre.

"Actually, if it isn't being too forward, I'd appreciate if you'd be willing to join," Boone remembered what sort of place Gomorrah was and stumbled over his words awkwardly, "That is-uh if you don't mind visiting Gomorrah."

"It's fine. It's not like I've never been in there before. I'm not as innocent as I look," Carla chuckled as they walked down the Strip, shooting Boone a racy smile as her eyebrow cocked upwards. Boone straightened his back a bit and cleared his throat, suddenly very aware of the numerous troops and citizens that would turn their heads to look over. He allowed himself a brief swell of pride, pleased that on his first leave in a while he'd managed to snag the attentions of someone so pretty… and perfect. The truth was every minute that passed Boone felt more enthralled with Carla's company, finding he was surprisingly more relaxed in her presence. He listened as Carla chatted on about the Strip, pointing out numerous people and places as they made their way to Gomorrah.

"Am I talking too much?"

Boone shook his head and smiled, "No, it's alright. I never know what to say."

Carla giggled and leaned her head against Boone's bicep, "Yeah well- you're not much of a talker and I can talk too much sometimes, so you just shut me up when it's a bit too much, ok?"

Boone came to a halt and stared at Carla bemusedly, "I wouldn't do that. Your talkin' sits just fine with me, Miss Carla. I like hearing what you have to say."

Carla slid her hand down Boone's arm and gave his large, calloused hand a squeeze, "You're sweet, Craig."

Boone swallowed hard and was about to speak when a voice rang out ahead of them.

"There you are, you bastard! Where the hell have you been?"

A groan of aggravation escaped Boone's lips and he shyly pulled his hand from Carla's, the girl caught off-guard by his sudden detachment. Craig's friend and spotter strolled up to the pair, a smarmy grin across his face as his eyes lay upon Carla. He clapped a hand onto Boone's shoulder and barked out a laugh.

"I don't believe my eyes. Boone, you picked up a broad?"

"Manny, watch your god damn mouth," Boone hissed, embarrassed by the way Manny referred to Carla. He looked at Carla, nervous of her reaction to his crass friend and was pleased to see her confidently sneering right back at the man.

"I picked him up, actually. You only serve to make him seem more charming."

Manny scowled in Carla's direction, "Well, glad I could deliver, toots. Now if you don't mind, my boy and I have a date with some tables and women less frigid than you."

"By all means, don't let me rain on your parade. You enjoy your leave, Mr. Boone," Carla quipped coolly as she began to turn and walk away. Boone punched Manny in the arm and shot him a pissed off glare. As he turned to follow Carla, he felt Manny grab his arm and yank him back.

"Man fuck that, if the broad really wants you… she'll come back. She knows where you are. Why don't you trust your spotter a little, hm?"

"Because you're an asshole. You just took a big dump on whatever chances I had. God damn it," Craig hissed as he turned and followed Manny into the Casino, his embarrassment the only thing preventing him from turning and running after Carla.

"Man, have you seen this place? You've got choice pickin's. Even if that hot little number doesn't come crawling' back, there's plenty more where that came from," Manny explained as he and Boone were patted down. The two made their way to the elevators, Manny explaining bitterly how he'd had enough time to check them in and had hauled their luggage to their rooms.

"Great help on that one, champ," Manny sneered as he handed Boone his room key, "You're in the one next to mine. I'm havin' a shower. Meet me in the lobby of the casino in an hour, alright? And don't get lost with some hot number without me."

Boone rolled his eyes as he slid the key home, opening his hotel room as Manny disappeared into his own. The room wasn't anything spectacular but it was a helluva lot better than what his sleeping arrangements had been over the last 5 years. Craig noted his duffel bag stowed into the corner of the room before he threw himself onto the bed, running his hands down his face in exasperation. He lay like that for several minutes as his mind replayed the events of the afternoon. Carla had been an unexpected but welcome addition to his day, Boone now mournful his chances of seeing her again had been significantly reduced.

God damn it. She had been somethin' else.

There was a knock on Boone's door and he contemplated not answering it, more than slightly perturbed at Manny was it was; his sense of time another piss off to add to the list. Boone got up from the bed and made his way to the door, about to release an earful when he realized it as Carla standing expectantly on the other side. Boone did a double take.

"C-Carla? How did you-"

Before Boone could get another word out, Carla placed a finger to his lips and pushed Craig back into his room with her free hand. As she closed the door behind her with a kick of her leg, she smiled up at him and laughed, "The receptionist and I are on good terms. She let me know your room number."

"I-I didn't think they would do that. Breach of security," Boone dumbly muttered, his brain ceasing to function properly at the moment. Carla's hand was slowly sliding up his chest, reaching to toy with the collar of his shirt. Boone felt his cheeks grow hot and stepped back a bit, unsure of how to proceed.

"Don't worry, I'm not here to seduce you and rob you blind like other broads on the Strip," Carla said as she blushed deeply herself, "Just… disappointed we separated on the wrong foot."

Boone sighed in relief, "Me too. I'm sorry about Manny. He can be a prick."

"It's alright; I can deal with pricks," Carla shrugged as her hand began to slide back down Boone's chest. She hooked a finger into the waistband of his fatigues and tilted her head back to smile up at the man, "I'd like to spend some more time with you, if you'd like that of course."

"Yes."

"How long are you on leave for?"

"One week," Boone admitted regretfully, disappointed he would be cursed with so little time.

"But… you're stationed in the Mojave for now, right?" Carla asked hopefully, pulling herself closer to Craig, her head practically under his chin.

"Yes."

"Then it's settled," Carla beamed, her hands reaching up to interlock behind Boone's neck. The warmth of her palms sent shivers down Boone's spine and he had to fight the urge to wrap his arms tightly around her in turn, the man finding himself utterly dazed by the series of events.

"What is?"

"I'll come to see you anytime you want this week. You just let me know when and I'll be here. Provided you don't find me too repulsive… we can figure something out after your leave is up."

"You…wait, what?" Boone asked confusedly, unsure of what had just happened, "As in, wait for me?"

"As in I'm asking you out, Craig."

Boone choked on something nonexistent in his throat and awkwardly retreated from Carla. The girl was forward and it sent Craig reeling; he'd always been too awkward to approach women, let alone appealing enough to be outwardly approached by them beyond drunken flirtations. Carla was something incredibly different, someone unlike anyone else he had ever met before both in California and Nevada. He had always been a pessimistic person but Boone found smothering the chiding voice in the back of his head was surprisingly easy; Carla felt right and regardless of his paranoia, he hadn't felt a desire to want something –someone this bad before in his life.

Carla bit her lower lip and pulled further away from Boone, "If I'm out of line, I'm sorry. I don't want you to feel pressured," she whispered unsurely. Craig shook his head slowly and stepped closely to Carla again, a hand reaching to cup her jaw line as he brought his lips to hers in a timid kiss. Carla smiled into the kiss and returned it, her arms encircling the back of his neck as his own wrapped around her small waist.

"I can't believe my lu-" Boone began as he looked into Carla's eyes but stopped suddenly, realizing he now found Lyra's eyes staring back at him. He released his arms from her waist and stepped back, staring in disbelief.

"Lyra?"

Lyra blinked at Boone and shook her head, confusion sprawling across her features, "Craig, it's me."

"Carla?"

"No, Lyra."

"What?" Boone asked, reaching a hand up to push his beret of his scalp, his hand simultaneously rubbing it. None of this made any sense. Where the hell was Carla?

"Craig, do you not see me? Have you forgotten me already?"

"Carla, I didn't forget you," Boone explained helplessly as he rushed forward again, taking Lyra into his arms. He didn't understand what the fuck was going on but he knew he wanted to touch her. His reality was swiftly taking a severe nose dive.

"You've got to look after me. I can't do this on my own," Lyra whimpered into Craig's chest.

"Shh, I won't leave you alone," Craig hushed Lyra, petting a hand down her smooth hair. When Lyra pulled back to smile at him, Craig felt his head ache as he peered down at Carla once more, tears streaming down her cheeks.

"You won't find me until you go. You have to go, Craig. Please… for me," Carla begged sadly, Craig feeling a swarm of horrifying memories surge back at him – the stench of death and burning flesh assaulting his senses.

"I can't, I… can't," Boone protested.

"Promise it won't happen again," She whispered, her voice strikingly similar to Lyra's. Or had Lyra's always been that way? Craig had a second to ponder the fresh realization before he heard a pathetic cry come from Lyra. He looked down to see a gaping bullet wound in her forehead, blood now cascading alongside the tears that streaked her face. As Boone stepped back in horror her face began to fluctuate wildly between Carla's and Lyra's, the scene grisly and disturbing as Boone watched helplessly. As he reached forward to grab the young woman he felt a tremendous pull and found himself staring at nothing but –

-Blackness.

Boone shot up in the guest bed, his body slick with a sheen of sweat. He panted loudly and threw the blankets off of himself, the lack of windows in the room panicking him further. He darted to the sink across his bed and violently brought up all of the delicious steak and whiskey he had consumed that night. He heaved until his sides hurt, his body rejecting the copious amount of alcohol he had drowned it in hours before. A shaky hand came to his mouth when it was finally over while the other reached for the face cloth sitting atop the sink. He turned on the tap, soaking the cloth in the cold water before he brought it to his face.

"Fuck," He breathed as memories of the night before came flooding back, his dream fresh in his memory. The dream had been bizarre without a doubt – if not exceptionally real but he couldn't lie that it was Lyra dominating his current thoughts more so than the usual Carla. Carla was dead and Lyra needed him; Boone couldn't deny that. He'd been an asshole and had given into physical desires he had long kept dormant. Lyra deserved better than being used as a confusing outlet for said needs and he knew he owed her an explanation. He couldn't let her go to Benny on her own; it was too dangerous and he wasn't about to let his pig headedness put her in further danger.

Craig pulled his fatigues on, opting to remain shirtless as he marched towards Lyra's room. The odd cowboy robot was still in his usual position by the elevator as Boone made his way to Lyra's door. He knocked but received no response. The lack of windows in the apartment made it impossible for Boone to have any real concept of what time it was, leaving him to wonder if she was still fast asleep.

"She's not there, pardner – missed the little lady already."

Boone wheeled and faced the robot, "Are you kidding me? Where is she?"

"I reckon she's gone to make her acquaintance with that Benny fellow. They'll be at the Top's if you're lookin'."

"What time is it?"

"Well, it'll be close to noon time, I reckon."

"Fuck!" Boone cried as he ran back to his room, hoping Lyra had not gotten herself hurt before he could get to her.

I'll be damned if another bullet enters that body.