Note: The delay was because of holidays; I lost a fingernail, dropped a 40 lb weight on my feet, and started so many fights I didn't have the time or energy to write. I hate and love the holidays.
Now returning to your regularly scheduled programming; Maggie being stupid (man I ain't a big fan of the BoS, either)
Maggie scratched her leg where the bark scorpion had gotten her, idly wishing she had something other than water to drink. She was sitting on the edge of a tall stand of rocks with Boone, looking out over the desert. Her hands ached from climbing up there, scraped and sore. Maggie wasn't a damn Bighorner, that was for sure.
It was a really nice view, though. She had to admit that just sitting with Boone out in the wastes was a good deal nicer than holing up in some dark and chilly hotel room back in Vegas.
"So tell me again," he said quietly, "what happened back there?"
"That knock to your head musta scrambled your brains," she grumbled. "Already told you once."
She didn't like that Boone had been knocked out; but she'd expected that they would try to kill them, not hold them hostage. And she didn't really want to think about that McNamar-era guy or what she'd said while she was flying her high banner.
She was lucky they were willing to help her, anyway. What with her admitted inability to remember the man's name, and her bad attitude... Maggie grumbled to herself.
Boone chuckled softly, and shifted position, running a hand up to the back of her neck, rubbing it lightly. Maggie made a distressed noise and pushed herself away from him. "I'm just trying to get a feel for the situation," he replied, gently.
"Don't mess with me," she said, shakily. "I don't wanna fall off a goddamn cliff today."
"I'll catch you," he murmured, stroking her neck. "Don't worry."
Maggie felt the tingles running up her scalp and down her back, and sighed painfully. She leaned to the side and into him, putting a hand around his side and closing her eyes.
"I get that you didn't make any friends, but you didn't tell me what happened with McNamara," Boone said.
"I don't remember it all that well," she muttered.
"Maggie, I can't protect you if you don't tell me what's going on," he said. He ran a hand down her spine and held her around her hip, fingers resting lightly on her pants.
"Alright, fine," she said, grumpily. "Lemme think."
A blinding light overcame her, making her eyes burn and head spin. Maggie turned her head away and caught a glimpse of Boone, being assaulted by one of the men in power armor that bustled through the doorway.
She blinked hazily at the sight, watching the trails Boone made as he fell to the floor, her eyes wide and head swimming with the venom effects. Shit, she thought, and a funny grin came over her face. Shit, really should sell this stuff on the Strip!
Someone told her to give up her stuff; she did, wobbling the whole time. Shimmied out of the NCR outfit and right out of all her clothes, ignoring the noises that echoed through her head like a rock bouncing down a canyon wall. Someone was protesting something and it made her head hurt with every syllable.
Maggie couldn't remember the last time she had been this high―no wait, she did remember. Goddamn Dixon and his jacked-up whiskey―
She stood naked and shaking in the bright lights the Brotherhood men were shining onto her. "Where to, fella?" she slurred out, rubbing her eyes and trying to focus on anything other than the lights―she really wanted to stare at those lights―
Someone moved her into the bunker and down a couple flights of stairs, catching her by the shoulder when she stumbled and fell. Someone was also cursing under their breath.
"Where are you gonna put Craig," she slurred out, and turned awkwardly.
Someone said something loud and angrily, and Maggie winced, closing her eyes. When she opened them again she was standing in the middle of a big metal-walled room and staring down a blond man. The blond man was staring back at her, his eyebrows drawn together, and someone was trying to put something over her head―a collar? Like a slave?
Maggie lashed out and shrieked, and the noise echoed back onto her ears. She cowered in pain, then, and heard the loud noises start to fall to soft echoes. Someone put a needle into her arm and held her onto the floor, and the world stopped spinning.
"Courier Six," someone was saying. Maggie blinked, rubbed her eye and her arm, and drew away blood. The needle went in badly, now she was bleeding. She stood up, slowly, warding off the man with her underclothes. Didn't want him touching her―
"Yeah," she said. "Yeah, I'm the courier." The venom effects were going away―
"How did you find us? And do tell the truth."
Maggie stared up at the blond man again, trying to wrap her head around what was going on. Captured again. Forced to speak to the boss. Man, if that wasn't something she was used it, she'd eat someone's hat.
Too bad Boone's beret is gone, she laughed to herself. Aw, shit! Boone!
"Where is my man?" she asked the blond. "You better hope he's okay."
"Being held securely in a cell, not far from here. He is in no danger." The blond stared her down. "Please answer my question. Your cooperation here determines the outcome of your situation."
Maggie shrugged and put her arms over her chest. "House sent me," she said, turning her gaze to the side and eyeing a soldier suspiciously.
The blond made a thoughtful noise. "Has the man begun working alongside the NCR? Wouldn't have expected that―"
"It ain't that hard to find a NCR uniform," she griped. "Look, doesn't matter what I was wearing. I ain't wearing shit right now! Got me at a disadvantage."
The blond's mouth twitched in a smile. "I... noticed," he said. "Has House allied himself with the NCR, Courier?"
"No," she growled. Maggie tilted her head and pursed her mouth. "No, I came here by way of House alone. What I was wearing ain't nothing to do with House."
"Please return the Courier's underclothes," the blond said.
"My name is Maggie," she snarled, grabbing her underwear and pulling them on.
"I am Elder McNamara," he replied. "Now, tell me why House sent you here."
Maggie rubbed her arm and glared at him. "What, you want the truth?" She shrugged. "House wants the Brotherhood gone."
Another thoughtful noise and McNam―hell, she'd forgotten his name already―McNara-ama tapped the desk with one hand. "And you intend to remove us?" he asked her, raising an eyebrow.
"Fuck, no," she spat. "I'm here for help getting that rat bastard out of Vegas." Maggie stood up straighter and stared the man down. "Need you to tell me how to get into a computer. I ain't a technical type."
"How strange." McNama-erara steepled his fingers together and stared back at her. "...When you first showed up on our doorstep, I'll admit at first I didn't know what to think."
"Most people don't," she muttered, looking around the room. Dammit, the man had weird eyes. Made her nervous. Maggie didn't like being nervous―didn't mind being naked in front of strangers, didn't care what people thought about her, and didn't give a half damn about what this "Elder" thought. But this guy made her skin crawl.
No wonder House wanted them out. If that's the way he is―she pinched her face and looked back to him, then away again. Dammit!
"After giving the matter some thought, I've decided that an outsider could be of great use to me right now." McNama-mama kept his eyes on hers as they traveled around the room. "However, I will not force you to help us. Should you refuse, you will be allowed to leave here, though know we will be keeping an eye on you."
"Yeah, alright," she muttered. "What do you want, man?"
"First, you will put on this collar," McNama-rara said, and one of the soldiers moved forward. "This guarantees your continued cooperation with us. I will ask you to prove yourself through a small test―"
"You ain't fucking collaring me!" Maggie said, throwing a hand up and smacking the collar out of the man's hands. "I ain't no goddamn slave!"
There was a muted conversation between the Elder and the soldier and a pained sigh. "Listen, courier―"
"My name is Maggie!" she snapped. "If you're gonna call me anything else, call me the goddamn whore queen of Vegas!" She breathed out a little shakily, her nerves taut enough without the outburst. "I ain't wearing a fucking collar like some Legion slave―"
"And what help do you need, that you cannot perform on your own?" McNama-ema said, standing up abruptly and slapping his palms onto the half-circle table he sat behind. "How do you expect to gain aid from us, if you will not cooperate with my decisions?"
Maggie avoided his eyes again. "I―" She swallowed hard. "I―"
His eyes were intense on hers, now, and she couldn't stop herself from nervously shaking. Shit, he reminded her of Sal when he was in a bad mood. Was a couple years since she'd had to deal with him angry, like that; the last time she'd seen him before she married he'd told her to keep up the ruse or he was gonna show her exactly what he could do with a bench vice―
Motherfucker, she thought. McNama-rama reminded her of that, and she knew if she didn't play along it would only get worse. Another fucker to play nice to. She started to wonder if there was anyone out there who didn't want to use her one way or another.
"You can't even tell me what you want? Did you just walk into the bunker, no thought to the contrary, and expect you'd get your way?" McNama-ara narrowed his eyes at her. "A spoiled brat from New Vegas should know the finer points of this game!"
Maggie breathed out. He was right, though. She should have known―but hell, she'd been poisoned, and she didn't know what the fuck to expect anyway. "...You're gonna take it off after I do what you want, right?" she asked, her voice breaking a little.
"The collar is only to ensure your cooperation during my test," he said, staring at her.
"Al-alright," Maggie said, and grabbed the collar from the soldier. She put it around her neck and watched the soldier fitting the pieces together. No way she was gonna get it off by herself―fuck―
"Now, we can discuss this test," the Elder said, and Maggie turned angry eyes back onto him.
He detailed a situation with a ranger in the nearby bunker, and ordered her to get rid of the man. Maggie agreed, and was released to the upper level again. Still wearing nothing but her underwear―shit. She grumbled under her breath as she walked through the sand, feeling the sharp prickles under her feet.
The ranger was easily told off with a little persuasion. I'm either getting better or worse at talking people into shit―she rolled her eyes at herself. Fucking hell, probably both.
Maggie sneaked around behind him and watched him leaving, then she went back into the little room and scavenged a set of casual clothes. She dressed herself with before she returned to the Elder.
"Alright, I did your stupid test," she said, tapping the collar and staring down McNama-arama. "Take. It. Off."
"And how did you convince the man to go?" the Elder said, looking at her over steepled fingers again.
"Told him you assholes were gonna blow up my head if he didn't skeddadle," she said, bluntly. "I expect you know that, though."
McNama-erama nodded, stiffly. "You may say what you wish about the Brotherhood," he said, gesturing for a soldier to remove the collar. "But I would rather you refrain from implying that we would kill a random civilian in such a manner. We would not."
"Ain't gonna matter, NCR has it out for you guys as much as House does." Maggie ground her teeth. "Can we get on with this shit?"
The Elder sighed. "Here is what I need you to do..."
"Anyway, we go find this stuff from these patrols and we can consider ourselves in... I guess, okay standing, with the Brotherhood." Maggie rubbed her forehead. "Elder whats-his-face promised me he'd personally show me what I needed done if I supported him against this asshole named Hardin, too. They're at each other's throats down there. Fighting each other about who's the boss."
Boone's hand tightened on her side and he brushed his lips against her hair. "They made you wear a collar," he said, angrily.
"Don't remind me. I was gonna punch that bastard in the face for that―" Maggie made a face. "And don't you go getting all possessive about it. It's done, and I ain't putting it on again, no matter what that asshole says."
Boone put a hand under her chin and lifted up her face, staring down at her, then moved in for a kiss. Maggie wrapped an arm around his neck and pushed herself into him―hell, she'd missed that. Having someone to just fool around with, even. It was nice, being held like that. She didn't want to let go. But he didn't seem to want to, either.
He also didn't care if she pushed him away or pulled him to, or if she ran around half-naked, or even if she was mean as hell to him. She owed him, bad, for nearly getting him killed by some stupid men in power armor, too. And for sticking to her like glue.
...She'd be lying if she didn't feel some small thrill at knowing that Boone was all hers, now. Property of Maggie, do not touch! She grinned under his mouth. As possessive as he was, hah, she was almost as bad.
But... Nero had been possessive too, and he'd given her away―
Maggie groaned to herself, making Boone pull away, then kicked herself in the head. She didn't want to think about that asshole anymore. Not with―this one―at her beck and call. She pushed Boone backward onto the rocks, and kicked her leg out over him, straddling him.
"Just so you know," she said, laying her hands on his chest and idly fiddling with one of the bullets in his bandoleer, "we have the time, now. You fancy getting sand in your pants?"
Boone's hands went to her hips and held her tightly, his legs dangling off the edge of the rock and her feet touching air. "Not really, no," he murmured, staring at at her with a tiny smile. "Do you?"
She leaned forward and ran her fingers across the stubble on his scalp. "No, but I don't think you're gonna argue with me in your pants, too."
Boone laughed, then sat up and Maggie shrieked―shit, she almost fell off the rocks―again―her hands went around his back and dug into the fabric, her thighs clenching around his. "You asshole!" she yelled, when she realized she wasn't going to fall.
"You're terrible at flirting," he said, chuckling. "Please stop. ...Just tell me what you want."
Maggie growled, and smacked his shoulder. "Fine, but get me away from the edge―"
A few more shrieks and a misplaced hand or two later, they were safer and Maggie didn't really have time to think about falling.
You can't fall if you're pinned down by a two-hundred pound man, she grinned to herself.