Author's Note: Early update. Because I love you guys. :D

It was cold when she woke up. Her skin felt numb, a disembodied feeling she'd felt only twice before. The first happened when she was eight. She'd fallen down a steep incline while travelling with her parents. She'd run off, saw something shiny as kids are wont to do. For her clumsiness, she was rewarded with a concussion, a broken arm, three cracked ribs, a bruised tail bone, and because her luck decided to land her unceremoniously on top of a discarded wardrobe, lacerations across her entire body from the broken glass. She'd bled long and deeply, and her mother cursed her to high heaven while she nursed her back to health.

The second time was the night she met Benny. Considering how that played out, this was cause for some alarm. Was she dying? She opened her eyes, as if to disprove this theory, and immediately regretted it. Bright light blared into her retinas, and she jerked her head to the side, screwing her eyes tight.

Well. She wasn't dead.

"She's up," a voice said. It was distant, or sounded distant, and she opened one eye just a crack. There was a bookcase, wooden, empty, covered in dust, further disproving that she was dying. She doubted the afterlife was this dirty. Someone was leaning against it, and her gaze drifted blearily up to see Boone staring down at her, his face set grim and hard.

"Hey," said the voice again. "Can you sit up?"

Boone's mouth didn't move in tandem with the words. In fact his mouth didn't move at all. It confused her for a second before a hazy thought slipped into her mind that the voice was female and related to freckles.

"Cass?" Riley turned her head, but the light was still there and she fell back, covering her face with one arm. God dammit.

"Sorry, sorry." There was the sound of a click, and the squeak of something being wheeled away. "It's off. Can you sit up?"

She tried. She honestly did. She pressed her hands against whatever she was laying on and attempted to lurch upwards, but her body was so weak she barely made it to her elbows, and Cass helped her the rest of the way. It was now that she noticed she was stripped down to the waist, her armour folded uselessly at her hips. A bra offered her a modicum of modesty and she groaned inwardly. Maybe it was just her lot in life to be either disrobed or dying.

"Lost a lot of blood," Boone told her, and she blinked down at her bare arm. Her wound was sewed up, cleaned, and already healing. It occurred to her that she should feel embarrassed, or at least move to get her armour back on. But honestly, she spent a year in a unit with mostly men. Privacy was a commodity she sometimes didn't have, and Boone had already seen her in less the night he set her shoulder. If his sensitivities were offended, well she was just too tired to care.

"Wound didn't look that bad," she said numbly.

"The knife," Cass blew out a breath as she crossed the room. "Found more of the fucking things. They slice through wood like butter." Her eyebrows lifted significantly as she turned back, uncapping a bottle of water. Riley watched her tiredly. "Bet your arm was like slicing through pudding."

"Oh."

"Here. Drink this," Cass moved closer, lifting the bottle and pressing it to Riley's lips. She frowned, barely had a chance to register what she was doing as her head was tipped back and water poured down her throat. She choked, spilling some onto her chest, and Cass stepped back, smiling apologetically.

"Sorry."

"Ron?" Riley asked, lifting her head. Cass shrugged.

"She's with her girl down the hall."

Whoa, what?

"Christine?" she frowned, looking over at Boone. He nodded affirmatively. She pressed a hand to her face. "When did— How long was I out?"

"One whole hour," Cass replied. She straightened, looking around the room. "You need more rest, but since you're up, might as well get some food in you. I'll be right back. Boone, help her lay back down."

She left the room and Boone moved to her side. His hands gripped her shoulders and he eased her back down slowly.

"Thanks," she said as he stepped away. He took up his spot against the bookcase again and resumed his grim vigil. She wondered vaguely if he'd eaten.

"You don't have to stay," she murmured after a while.

"Don't have anywhere else to be."

"You should eat."

"I did."

She waited a beat.

"I'm naked," she reminded him, and he snorted.

"You are not. Now shut up and rest."

She smiled at that, and let her eyes close. She had questions, of course. Things needed to get done. But she was so tired and it was so easy to just let every care slide to the back of her mind. She must have drifted, because the next thing she knew Cass was nudging her awake again.

"Food's here," she told her. She helped her up again, and a plate of Salisbury steak was placed on her lap. Riley stared at it helplessly.

"I ain't feedin' ya," Cass said when she made no move to pick up a utensil. Riley looked imploringly up at Boone.

"No."

"You guys suck," Riley sighed, picking up the fork and knife. She ate slowly. The Pip-Boy weighed down heavily on her arm, and after a few tries she dropped it uselessly to her lap and ate one handed, using the side of the fork to cut her meat, the knife forgotten.

"So how'd Christine find us?" she asked in between bites.

"She was up in Vera's suites," Cass explained. "She made her way down to the main lobby and found Veronica while you were out."

"Why was Christine in Vera's suites?" Riley frowned. There was a brief exchange of glances between Cass and Boone, something unsaid passed between them and Riley had the distinct impression she was missing something. Her eyes narrowed. "What?"

"Later," Cass shook her head. "Finish your food. We'll talk after."

She took another bite, forced herself to swallow. "Dean's going to be pissed," she said quietly.

"Yeah? What else ya expect?" Cass cocked a brow at her.

She sighed. "Said I'd find him first. He finds out I went after him last and he's going to be offended."

"Boo-fucking-hoo. Could just leave him, wherever he is," Cass suggested. "After what he did to Christine, I mean, no one would blame you."

"Have you met Dean?" Riley asked. "The longer we wait the longer he has to plan new ways to possibly stab us in the back." She stabbed at her steak for emphasis. "Besides that, his collar's causing interference or something with something Elijah needs and—"

"You're not seriously considering this," Cass said flatly. She stepped forward, lowering her voice. "I get what Veronica wants, but this asshole needs to die. Screw whatever he needs."

It took her a second to realise Cass was talking about Elijah, and not Dean. She was too tired to argue on either account, and set her fork down carefully. "I think I'm done."

Cass frowned down at her plate. "You haven't touched half of it. Finish or you ain't leaving this room."

"Look Mom," Riley scowled at her. "I need to find Dean."

Cass made a sound of disgusted frustration. "Ugh. Look—"

She lifted a hand. "I'm not arguing on this."

"You argue about everything," Cass retorted. "What's one more thing?"

"Boone," Riley turned to him, exasperated. "You'll help me, right?" Cass turned to glare at him, daring him to say yes, but he didn't meet her gaze. Instead, he cast his eyes upwards, and sighed.

"Yeah."

Ha! Riley smiled triumphantly as Cass shook her head slowly. Scowling, she grabbed Riley's plate and stalked out of the room, muttering about fucking crazies as she left.

Riley opened the door to the theatre and promptly sagged against it. Behind her, Boone shifted his weight patiently while she struggled to summon the energy to actually step inside. The walk from the casino to the lobby, then up the flight of stairs to get to the Theatre had taken the wind right out of her sails. Her legs were like lead, heavy and useless and she was fighting just to stay upright.

"We can wait," he said when she didn't move. She closed her eyes.

"Need to get you home," she mumbled. Wait, shit, did she say that?

Boone's voice was cautious. "…Me?"

She shook her head weakly. "All. You all. Everyone."

"Home?"

"Mojave."

"Desert's not going anywhere," he reminded her, and she breathed a sigh of relief.

"Not getting there any faster by laying around," she said, and forced herself to take a step into the room. The door swung shut behind them, the resulting bang echoing loudly.

"Gonna get yourself killed," he went on. "You're still weak. Gonna make you slow and sloppy."

She staggered forward towards the ticket booth, determined to see this through. A poster of Dean in his prime adorned the wall, lights framing it in a golden halo. Boxes of bobby pins sat on the desk and she reached out with tired hands. "If you didn't want to come," she said, tucking the boxes into her pocket, "why'd you say yes?"

"Said I'd watch your back."

"Even if my ideas are stupid?"

"Especially if your ideas are stupid."

Ha. Ha.

"You're sure he's here?" Boone turned in a small circle, taking in the room with a critical eye. She wasn't sure, actually. It was simply her best guess. But she lifted her Pip-Boy to check the map and sure enough, a little blip pulsed on the map close by.

"He's here."

"And is there a reason you didn't stop to check in on Veronica?"

Riley sighed, dropping her arm. "Because Cass is right."

"On what."

She shook her head and moved slowly out of the lobby. Another set of double doors stood in front of her, proudly declaring in lights that beyond was the Tampico.

"About Elijah," she said. "Guy's a whack-job. I know Ronnie wants to talk to him, but I just think there's no point, y'know? He's beyond help." She looked over her shoulder when Boone didn't say anything and found him eyeing her curiously. "You don't agree?"

"I do agree. But when we got here you were all for letting her have what she wants."

She turned back. "You weren't there at the clinic. We found bodies," she tugged on the handle of one of the doors, sighed when it wouldn't budge. "Bodies and collars and…" she stopped to face him. "We don't let the Legion get a free pass with this shit. Why should he?"

He stared at her, and she saw something in his eyes that she was too tired to place. Approval? He nodded. "Yeah, I get it."

She smiled, and turned down a hall that was dimly lit around the corner. "Let's hope Ronnie does. Because I'm not looking forward to that conversation."

Her eyes went wide as Boone pulled her back violently. Her ears barely caught the first beep from her collar and she scolded herself inwardly. She'd forgotten to look for the radios.

"Stay here," Boone said, stepping around her. She didn't argue. Weak as she was, she'd probably just get in the way. Boone dashed around the corner and out of sight. A few seconds later, a single shot went off.

"Clear," Boone called, and Riley moved to join him.

The theatre was dark. A stage stood in the middle of the room, lonely and melancholy, beckoning for singers of an era long dead. Dean's name was in lights, and she smiled a little, wondering what it'd be like to see him perform live. She hummed a few bars of one of his songs—a favourite of her mother's—and earned a fresh new frown from Boone as they neared the centre of the room.

"Just get this over with," he said, and she nodded, clearing her throat.

"Dean?" she called out. The empty theatre echoed his name back at her.

"Up here," said a bored voice, and Riley looked around, finally spotting him up on a walkway, overlooking the entire lounge. She lifted a hand.

"Hey. Came to get you."

"Took you long enough," he said on a sigh, resting his elbows on the railing. He crossed one foot behind the other, and Riley frowned. He sure wasn't in any hurry. For someone who'd been planning this heist for two centuries, she would have thought he'd be more eager to get a move on.

"There were complications," she told him.

"There always are. And now we have a new one," he tilted his head. "Security isn't happy we're here."

She dropped her hand. "Um."

"They're going to appear any minute. If I were you, I'd try not to die."

"Thanks," she said, her voice rising. "Great advice. Where are the emitters? We can deal with security, but we need to get you out of here. I have a plan to deal with Elijah and I want everyone together for it."

"Oh?" The ghoul straightened. "And does that coincide with my plan to raid the vault? Did you even remember our little agreement? Obviously not, since he's with you."

She sighed. She didn't really want to deal with Dean's bruised ego right now. "I'll explain everything."

"You'd better," Dean snapped. "I've had enough of being the odd man out. This is my show, and I'll be damned if I'm relegated to holding the door open for others to take the spotlight."

She found herself swaying while he spoke. Her limbs, still weak from the loss of blood, were having a hard time keeping her upright and in one place. She had the vaguest thought that maybe Cass was right and she should have waited until she got her strength back. She was lethargic, tired, and soon she'd be forced to dodge holograms. This was, all in all, not one of her brightest ideas.

Dean considered her, brow quirking when her swaying took a considerate lean too far to the left and Boone moved to keep her upright.

"What happened to you?" Dean asked. She smiled tiredly.

"Like I said, complications. You coming down?"

"I can't. Look, I can't explain it all. Just go through the door on the left," he said finally. "By the stage. Ha, get it? Exit stage-left? Oh, never mind. I need you to find a key to the damn door here. I think it's in Vera's dressing room."

She frowned. "Can't you just walk off the stage?"

He waved an idle hand. "The last three times I tried, I was met with an unfriendly hologram. If I go out on that stage again, I want it to be with a band behind me and an adoring crowd before me."

She looked around wildly, but Dean was already turning to go. "Wait! My left or your left?"

"Ah," he paused and turned back around. "Oh. My left, your right." His lips turned up into a smile. "That would have been messy." Then he was gone.

She took one step forward. One step, that was all she was allowed before Boone clamped a hand on her arm, gripping her tight at the elbow, and hauled her to the back of the lounge. He dragged her behind the counter to the bar just as blue holograms were starting to flicker on, and he yanked her down to the floor before she could be seen.

"What are you doing," she groaned, unable to fight him. "This isn't stage-left."

"Stay here," Boone said. "I'll deal with this."

Her head fell back against the wall. Christ she was tired. "You're not doing this alone." As if she was in any shape to stop him.

"Stay. Here." He fixed his gaze on her. She blinked once wearily. "Riley. I mean it."

"Fine," she closed her eyes, hating how useless she felt. "Just get him out."

He paused, opening his mouth as if to say something. Must have thought better on it, because he shook his head, laid a hand on her shoulder briefly, and moved out of hiding. Her eyes followed him, and she couldn't resist poking her head around the corner to watch as he practically sailed through the room unnoticed.

"Dean?" She called out again. "Boone's coming to get you."

"My dear," Dean's voice called back. "You have a way of ruining a man's day, you know?"

She found herself smiling in the darkness.

She lifted her head wearily sometime later to see two men standing over her, and neither of them were smiling.

"What's th'matter?" she mumbled. "Why so glum, chums?"

Dean lifted a single brow. "Are you drunk?"

"No," she smiled weakly as Boone crouched next to her, slipping an arm around her waist and hauling her up to her feet. "I am just really, really, really tired."

"You need food," Boone said. "Sugar." He nudged her legs forward.

"Okay. Sweetie."

He sighed. "Sugary food. We're going back," he told her, and together they walked out from her hiding place while Dean watched her cautiously.

"Wait," Riley frowned suddenly, and Boone stopped. She turned her head to the ghoul. "God's dead."

He said nothing for a moment. "Is he the reason you're half delirious from blood loss?"

She blinked, distracted. "How'd you know?"

"I haven't survived nearly two-hundred years in this place without a close call or two myself, you know." He plucked delicately at this cuffs. "I recognise the signs. But I suppose the better question is, why are we still alive?"

She was taking a massive risk with this. She hoped it paid off.

"Because there's something in the walls that's blocking the signals," she told him. "Don't suppose you know what it is."

Dean frowned. "The walls, you say?"

She nodded, her head felt heavy.

"So you're saying," he drew his sidearm and she felt her heart drop. He held it up, tilting his head as he looked at the barrel. She could feel Boone tense beside her, and realised that while he was supporting her, he wasn't free to draw his own weapon. "You're saying that if I shot you now," he levelled the gun on her, drawing out the word. "And made it out in time, my bow-tie wouldn't blow my head off?"

She swallowed. "That's what I'm saying, yes."

"Interesting."

Nobody moved. She could feel Boone's muscles tensing sporadically, knew he probably wanted to drop her and just shoot Dean then and there. Could he do it before Dean shot either of them first, though? That was the important question, and she felt a surge of defeat at the realisation that this was her fault. She let her head fall forward, wondering if she could summon up the strength to shove Boone aside and tackle Dean before the gun went off. At the very least, she could give Boone time to escape.

"Guess this means I don't get that autograph after all, huh?" she murmured.

There was a beat of silence, and then Dean surprised them all by laughing. Riley lifted her head, brow furrowed. Was this a manic I'm-going-to-kill-you-now laugh? Or an amused you-actually-thought-you-could-defeat-me laugh? Was it funny ha-ha or funny mwah-ha?

Dean tucked his sidearm back into his coat. "My dear, I don't know why, exactly. But I find myself quite fond of you."

She stared at him. What.

"So let's let bygones be bygones, eh?"

"That's a great idea," she said in a breathy rush. "Your greatest yet."

"No," he said gravely. "I think my greatest idea will be to finally leave this place once this is all over."

She smiled at him. "Can't argue with that."