In this chapter the Courier gets a name and I can't write smut so I give up :(
edit: LOL OOPS forgot to tidy this up properly
The Courier gasped as she reached the peak north of the city, overlooking the shimmering heat of the Mojave. She paused, one foot raised on a rock in front of her, and raised a hand to her eyes to shield them from the sun.
Spreading out below her on the plain, glittering in the sunlight, were rows upon rows of solar panels, enclosed in a large chain-link fence with heavily-chained metal gates.
She pressed the back of her hand to her mouth.
"That's new." Cass climbed up behind her. "Yours?"
She grinned. "No, I didn't – I didn't organise this. I told Benny that I'd thought of it, but… he must have done the rest himself."
"What a sweetheart." Cass said flatly. "Can we go now? I've been dreaming about a bath for weeks. With soap. And shampoo. Oh, god, shampoo." She started climbing carefully down the rocks.
The Courier couldn't stop staring. At the mountains to the west, rising into the clouds; the broken highways, with clouds of dust rising behind travelling parties; the golden plains of the wasteland; the wide flat expanse of her city as it spread out around the neon playground of the Strip.
"I am getting paid for this, right boss?" Raul paused just behind her, squinting up at her against the light.
"Swank didn't organise that with you before you left?" She stepped down from the rock carefully.
"Sometimes people don't pay you once they got what they want," he said.
"Swank isn't like that."
"You'd be surprised how many people are 'like that', boss. 'Specially with people that look a little different, you know?" He shrugged.
The Courier frowned, uncomfortably aware of the privileges her status afforded her.
"You'll get paid," she said. "I'll take care of it."
"That's you all over, boss," he said. "Always looking out for the little guy."
"You better watch that mouth of yours," she said, but she was smiling. "I'll fund a rival mechanics store and drive you out of business before you've even started."
He laughed. "It's good to know I've got your support," he said, and she followed him as he began climbing down the hill to the city.
Her heart pounded harder and harder as they approached the city gates, and by the time she got to the Strip she felt like she was almost about to explode.
She gave the doorman a grin as opened the door to the Lucky 38.
The entrance of a large group of people into one of the busiest casinos on the Strip was hardly an unusual occurrence, but as people started to recognise the members of the party, heads began to turn.
She tossed her hair over her shoulder, pretending not to notice the attention. Everything was scarlet and golden and brightly-lit, Bing Crosby over the speakers barely audible over the sound of the crowd's raised voices.
She finally caught sight of Benny standing in one of the private areas across the floor. As she watched him, she saw one of the staff lean close to whisper in his ear.
She saw him mouth the words Jesus motherfucking Christ and turn towards her. As he caught her eye, he inclined his head politely and raised his glass.
She began to move through the crowd towards him, mindful of her dust-covered armour in comparison to the spotless suits and gowns around her.
Benny put a hand on the small of her back and pulled her close enough to hear him over the music
"So," he said. "The prodigal daughter returns. I hope you enjoyed your… holiday." He raised an eyebrow. His hand lingered on her back.
"It was, uh, interesting," she said. "You miss me?"
"Always." He snagged a glass of wine off a passing waiter and handed it to her. "Your hair's getting long. It looks good on you. Feminine."
She narrowed her eyes. "Yeah, I've been meaning to get that cut. So, uh, those solar panels out back…"
He smiled faintly. "Well, you told me about it a while ago. So I thought I'd give you something nice to come home to."
She grinned. "You're an angel. What's their output like?"
His smile faded. "Not as high as we'd like, to be honest." He pulled a cigarette from his inside jacket pocket. "Still," he said, lifting his lighter to the cigarette. "Bought us a little more time."
The Courier watched the flame dance and flicker, until the abrupt snap of the lid closing brought her back to the moment. "Yeah."
Benny lowered his voice and leaned even closer towards her, his lips almost brushing her ear. "Your, uh, gentleman friend is around somewhere." He pointed at her with the glowing end of his cigarette. "Further to that, angel, I don't believe he's in a good mood."
Of course he wasn't. She bit her lip. "Any idea where he is?"
"'Fraid not." He spread his arms wide. "If you'd like me to have someone bring him in, or, I guess, keep him away, just say the word."
She sighed. "I'll have someone go find him. Odds are he'll know I'm back in the next hour or so. If not already."
He gave her that familiar crooked grin. "You can't keep on running away like this, angel," he murmured. "What if one day you just left and never came back? If no one knows where you're going, or when you'll be back… Little girl like you could just get swallowed up by the big, bad wasteland. There are monsters out there, you know."
Something about the way he was smiling at her, almost predatory, proprietary, put her on edge. "Yeah, I do know. Met a few myself. Killed a few myself."
He laughed. "No, angel, I haven't forgotten how dangerous you are. Come find me to catch up after you're settled. We got some things to talk about. Business. You dig?"
"Sure," she said. His hand left her back, leaving a strange feeling of absence as the warmth faded away.
"Catch you later, dollface," he said, without looking back, and disappeared into the crowd.
She knew she didn't have long before Boone heard she was back and came looking for her. She was almost panicking, caught between her excitement at being able to see him again and her dread about what he might say.
She threw open her wardrobe. The pink dress? The green dress? Her small collection of revealing nightgowns were probably not the best idea either. Vera's dress was almost tempting. She lifted the fabric, satin against her fingertips, touched the rose at the hip gently. But no. That wasn't right. She'd feel like she was playing a part, pretending to be someone far more mysterious and beautiful than she'd ever be. So it was just her comfortable, familiar armour, the leather stretched and worn until it fit just right.
The intercom crackled. "I believe you're expecting a Mr Boone?"
She took a deep breath. "Yeah, I'm ready. Send him up."
The elevator seemed to take forever to reach the penthouse. Her mind was racing, running through what she could say, how she could explain any of this.
She poured a glass of scotch to calm her nerves, drained it, then poured another.
The chime of the elevator as it reached her floor set her heart racing. She turned, slowly, to look up at the mezzanine floor overhanging the room.
Quiet footsteps echoed in the silence.
And then there he was, one hand on the balcony railing and his eyes still hidden behind sunglasses. His face was expressionless as he began to walk down the stairs.
"Hi," she said, voice barely above a whisper. "I'm sorry I didn-"
He pulled her into a hug so tight it hurt, his fingertips digging into her flesh. She could hear his heart pounding in his chest.
"What the hell did you think you were doing?" he asked, struggling to keep his voice calm.
She couldn't speak, could barely breathe, as he held her, overwhelmed by his anger and the strength of his grasp and even his physical closeness. With him away so often, she wasn't used to being held.
"I'm sorry." It seemed inadequate. "I – how long have you been here?"
"A week? Less. I don't know," he said. "When the brass heard you'd gone missing, they pulled me in for questioning. Twelve hours later, they figured I didn't know jack, so they suggested I take some leave." His expression was bitter. "I didn't know if I should try to come after you. No one knew where you'd gone except one of the Chairmen, and 'north' was all I could get out of him."
"I had to find her," she said quietly. "I couldn't leave Cass out there. I'd do that for any of my friends."
He sighed. "Yeah," he said, stepping back. "I know. And now everyone else does, too." He ran his thumb over a stray lock of her hair. "That's how your enemies are going to try to get to you. If they can't get to you, they go through your friends. Through us."
She felt like she'd had a bucket of cold water dumped over her head. She sat there silent, staring. How could she have been so blind? How could she have been so stupid? She'd put everyone she loved into danger. She looked down at the ground, ashamed.
"Hey." He caught her chin, raised it until he was looking into her eyes. "Listen." He looked at her, eyes full of concern. "You need to think before you do things like this."
"I'm sorry."
He shook his head. "If I-" he began hesitantly, but he cut it short with an exasperated exhale. "If something happened to you," he said, haltingly, fighting to keep his voice steady. "And I wasn't here to help you, I – I don't know what I – if I-" He looked away, jaw clenched. "I can't be here, all the time, in case something happens. I need you to be safe. I need to know that you're okay. That you're going to be okay." He looked at her, guardedly.
"I don't think I can be safe here all the time," she said slowly. "It's not safe anywhere. And I can't just – just hide from everything. I'd end up being like House, barricaded away in a secret room, out of touch with how things actually are. I can't do that. You knew what I was when we started this."
He sighed. "And you knew what I was when you started it."
She looked at him, confused and hurt. It did made sense, although she hated to admit it. He wanted – needed stability. A woman to care for and look after, and who'd be there for him no matter what. Not some foolish flighty girl who rushed into danger at the slightest hint of an adventure.
"This isn't going to end well, is it?" she asked quietly, smiling sickly.
"Told you it wouldn't."
She laughed, despite the sensation of standing at the edge of a chasm that was slowly widening. "Bet this isn't how you thought it'd be, though," she said, her voice hollow. "When you said that the first time."
She stood up and made her way to the counter. Her hands shook as she poured scotch into two glasses, and her footsteps echoed loud in her ears as she walked back to the sofa.
Boone took one from her gently, and swallowed half of it in one gulp. "No," he admitted. "Can't say this is really what I was expecting." He looked out the window, the neon glow of the city, the moonlit horizon. She watched the line of his throat, adams apple bobbing, as he took another swallow. Her mouth was dry.
"You don't stop loving people after they've died, do you?" she asked bluntly, almost having to force the words out.
His brow creased faintly. She had to look away from the intensity of his gaze.
"No," he said, finally. "No, you don't."
She nodded, like she'd known it all along. In a way she had, though. She'd always known that she couldn't replace her. Carla. Always a pale shadow, after the loss of the love of his life.
"I always wanted..." Her voice cracked, and she stopped, staring down at her hands resting limply in her lap. He turned to look at her, eyes soft and questioning.
She felt like she was drowning, reaching out for something, anything to cling to. "I always – always wanted to make…" She could feel her skin flushing under his gaze, heat rising from her chest right up to the roots of her hair. She tried to start again, staring at the floor between her feet. "When you told me about what happened to you – and to Carla – I wanted to make it so that couldn't happen to anyone else ever again. I wanted to make you a world where you couldn't get hurt like that ever again."
She jumped as his hand touched her face, cool against her flushed skin. She looked across at him as he reached out to her, his eyes
"You're my compass," she said, almost a whisper.
And then he was closing the gap on the sofa between them, wrapping his arms around her, pulling her close.
"Verity," he said. She tensed. Her name sounded strange from his lips. He pulled her head gently towards him and pressed a kiss to her forehead. "Verity," he said again, gently. She looked up. "Just because there's - just because Carla will always be-" his voice grew rough, and he cleared his throat – "be important to me – it doesn't mean there's no room for anyone else. For you."
"Craig-" she began, but he cut her off, pressing a thumb to her lips gently.
"Let's leave it for tonight," he said. "It's getting late."
The clock on the wall showed a quarter to one. Not late, exactly, not for Vegas, but she'd been walking for a week and felt drained by the confrontation.
She nodded. "Are you staying here?" she asked uncertainly.
"If you want me to."
"Yes," she said quickly. "Please."
He smiled, gently, the flicker of white teeth somehow making her desperately sad at the possibility of one day never being able to see it again.
She stood and began to unbuckle her armour
She felt a hand brush against the back of her neck, sending a shiver down her spine. She smiled, but didn't turn around as he unhooked her belt, fingers grazing her hips. He turned her around, gently but firmly, and bent to kiss her. She leaned into him.
"Is this-" she began.
"Shh."
She let one of her hands trail from his chest down to his hip.
It wouldn't last. It couldn't last. But for tonight, at least, it didn't matter. They were just two people, clinging to each other because that's all they had left to hold on to.