Note: Whoa, did you see that shark I just jumped!?
Second Note: Fixed a minor problem, sorry about that. confusing
"Bonnie, wait!"
She shuddered in fear, legs curled underneath her and leaning on the bedroom door. The Legion should have killed you at that shack. Benny shouldn't have buried you without double-checking. Shouldn't be alive. Shouldn't even have been able to let this happen.
She reached up and locked the door without looking. Shuffling sounds in the hallway were enough to make her chest tighten. No way could she face him right now. The last time―it had ended so badly for him, last time.
Why are you still alive? Ought to have clocked out in Goodsprings, or in the cap-counterfeiting shack. There's no reason for you to be alive. No reason for this to have even happened.
She breathed out and fought back against the thoughts. Guess it's fate. I died twice already, paying for all the good things that have happened to me. Probably die again, for this.
You... you think this is a good thing? Her inner voice was incredulous now, rising in pitch inside her head. I knew you were dumb, but Jesus Christ―this is ridiculous!
It's taken me thirty years to find him, she told herself. I've lived such a fucking hard life. Thirty years of pain and anguish and terror, and he makes that go away. If karma gave me him, why wouldn't it be a good thing to have his―
Because of who you are, that's why. Did you forget about Courier Six? You can't reasonably expect that this is going to end without someone getting shot. And it will be you. Again. Third time's the charm, right?
Shut the hell up! Bonnie brought her hand up to smack herself in the face, but it wasn't automatic. This time she was doing it on purpose. She shuddered, and threw her hand down. It felt like her mind was trying to split itself into two halves, and she didn't like that. Had to stay sane, find a distraction.
Scooting across the floor and opening her gun case, she assessed her firepower. Nothing more than a few spare parts she'd kept for the repeater, one shotgun, and some pistols she'd kept as a backup. She unloaded the shotgun and inspected the ammunition.
We aren't seriously going to go to the Cove like this―just―please!
What is this 'we' shit? she asked herself. There's only one me. You're just here because I got shot in the head. Just a way to keep myself sane.
You think you made your way to Camp Golf on your own? Goddammit, Bonnie, we go through this every time! I always have to cover your ass when you do something so ridiculously stupid―
Bonnie picked up a pistol. Maybe it'd be better just to end it all right now. You can't tell me what to do if I'm dead.
Dying never helped you before, you idiot.
No, it hadn't. It had only made things worse. Bonnie rubbed her face with her free hand and felt the scar along her left cheek. She thought about Benny and how he'd accepted death in the end, and how she had given him a honorable death. She'd owed him that, because...
She wouldn't have met Boone, if she hadn't been shot by Benny. Wouldn't have had a chance to fall in love, if she hadn't been destroyed by the Legion. She'd wondered why Boone acted so different after the torture; now she wondered if... if she had given him a reason to live past what he had done in life.
Shooting herself would certainly take that reason away. The thought of deliberately hurting him outweighed any pain she could cause for herself. Bonnie swallowed hard and dropped the pistol, throwing it away from her. It clattered to the corner of the wardrobe and she stared at it for a moment. Tried to imagine that she didn't care what would happen to him if she died. It didn't work.
Nothing was ever fair, he was right about that. This was not fair. But it was a game-changer. It meant she had to stop playing nice. She had to up the ante and play the game as it was intended to be played, or neither one of them were going to be alive when the hand ended.
She didn't want to see Boone die. And she was not going to let herself be killed in this goddamn desert again.
He waited outside the bedroom door for almost three whole hours before she mustered the courage to open it. Hearing him out in the hallway, and knowing he was waiting for her to unlock it, made her wait an extra half-hour out of sheer nervousness. But he was a sniper, he knew how to wait. He wasn't going to go away.
Bonnie was more impatient than a small child with a birthday present, when it came to waiting. She turned the lock with a sigh. Screw unpeeling the layers. We'll have to cut this onion in half.
The door slammed open and Bonnie was swept up into Boone's arms, deposited on the bed, and his hand was up her dress. She lost her breath for a moment, too shocked to respond to the sudden motion and invasion of space.
He was feeling her stomach, his fingers tracing over the branded bull. Her heart ached, knowing what lay underneath the scar. Boone shot her a glance―his sunglasses were gone and his eyes red. He looked distressed, and she closed her eyes against the pain. His hands moved up to her buttons and began undoing them, hurriedly.
"Craig―" She pushed herself up on her elbows.
"Were you going to tell me?"
She fell back onto the bed and sighed. "I didn't know."
He didn't reply, just kept messing with her outfit. His hand went down her top, onto her stomach. After a moment he withdrew, sitting back onto one leg. His knee slipped off the mattress and he slumped onto the edge of the bed, sitting with his hands over his face.
"I really didn't," she said, running her hand along her stomach, the branded bull still vivid against her skin. A bulge was just barely showing, hard to the touch with taut skin over it.
Boone's hands slipped down off his face. He started laughing. It was not a good laugh, filled with incredulity and hard strain. Bonnie hurt to hear it.
"Craig?" she said.
His head swiveled sharply, his face turned to meet hers. She pressed her mouth together, fighting the urge to burst into tears at his expression. It was... the word wretched came to mind. So much pain. So much restrained anger―and fear. Fear was there and that was going to make her cry if she didn't look away.
So she did. "I..." She sighed again. "I don't know what to say."
"I asked for no tricks," he said, his voice hard. "Is that hard, Bonnie?"
"Fuck you, Craig," she sputtered, and started crying. "I didn't know!" She curled up on her side, wishing she could hide under the bed cover.
He didn't trust her! He shouldn't have come back! She would have died on her own, if he hadn't come back. Probably would be lying somewhere out in the desert, a Legion patrol walking away from her corpse. She deserved to be dead with how she'd acted, denying him what he'd wanted so badly. His revenge, his chance to get over what had happened in the past.
But if she'd just taken him with her to see Caesar, instead of running away from him, they'd both be dead. She felt that like a stab to the heart, clutching her chest in response.
"Sure as hell not going to the Cove, now," he muttered. "Not now, not ever."
...You should have listened to me. This wouldn't hurt so much if you had. "I'll go if I have to," she choked out.
Goddammit! What the hell, brain?! Her cheek started off, twitching in reaction to the stress. Bonnie hid her face under a pillow.
"This is what I meant. About next time," he said, frustrated. He turned on the bed, making it creak under the weight. "Why do you make everything a trial?"
"I'm always to blame," she muffled out. "But I ain't pleading guilty to this―"
"Maybe you should."
That made her angry. She sat up and threw the pillow at him. It bounced off of him and landed on the floor, and he didn't react. "I can't just give in! I have to fight! If I didn't―I'd just die again, and―" And you only get one second chance. She muffled her words, stuffing her face into her hands.
Boone stared at her. "You gave in, before. That night."
She groaned in frustration. "You were drunk. And arguing with me! And I―" she curled her hands up at her eyes. "...I wanted it. I gave in and then I did what needed to be done. What I couldn't do with you around." She sighed. "...It was probably a mistake."
For a moment, he didn't react. She clenched her fists and felt her knuckles digging into her black eyes, the pain reminding her that she'd made so many damn mistakes. So many.
"Wasn't a mistake," he said, slowly. "Wasn't fair, though."
"Told you you could make it up," she muttered, remembering. It seemed a stupid thing to remember, right now.
"I would, if you let me," he said. She peeked out over her hands to see him pulling off the bandoleer of his outfit. It fell to the floor. He leaned forward, untying his boots. "Make it up."
"How is that the answer to―" she started, dropping her hands into her lap.
"I owe you," he said, interrupting her. He kicked off his boots and began unbuttoning his jacket.
"It's just another mistake," she said, frowning in confusion. "I don't understand."
"Works better that way," he said, in a calm voice. "Don't think about it."
Bonnie groaned. "You're so damn frustrating!"
"You're one to talk," he replied.
"Boone―"
"Craig," he said, interrupting her. He looked at her over a sleeve, arms suspended in the air as he removed his jacket. "Craig."
She breathed out through her nose. "Fine. Craig." She pushed herself up to a sitting position. "We're both gonna die out there, you said it yourself. We don't have time for shit like―this." Her hands went to her stomach. "Would be better to go poke a sharp stick at the Legion and see what happens. At least then we'd be doing something―worthwhile, when we die."
His jacket landed in a pile on the floor and he removed his shirt, then reached back and grabbed her, pulling her to the edge of the bed. Her head landed on his thigh, and she looked up at him, very confused. He wasn't looking at her, just holding her there and staring into space.
"When... Carla, got pregnant," he said, staring at the wall opposite her, "it was a surprise. Didn't know what to do."
I don't know what to do, either.
He stroked her hair gently. A moment passed in silence. "...I was scared. It was a good thing." He looked down at her. "But I was scared."
No arguments here. She looked away, her face flushed.
"Everything I ever did," he said, his voice thick with emotion, "I did to protect her. I failed. She died because of me."
"Craig―"
"And you..." he said, "...you didn't die. I failed you, too. ...But you didn't die."
"You make me sound like I'm Boone-proof," she muttered.
"...Maybe you are."
Bonnie sputtered out a bitter laugh. "That's ridiculous."
"Bonnie." She turned her eyes back on him. "We can go forward from this. Guaranteed."
The look in his eyes and the heaviness of the room pressing down on her heart... she started to cry again. All the things she'd ever said to him coming back on her―she closed her eyes and willed herself to stop crying, to pull it together.
That was when he picked her up and held her, and kissed her.
He made all the pain go away, again.
