Author's Note: Hey guys! This one comes a little earlier than usual? I actually wrote it days ago and just kinda picked at it on and off over the weekend. I wanna say thank you to all of you. I am so close to 300 reviews (!?) and you GUYS that's so amazing and I have you all to thank for that. Y'all are the tops! I also want to reply to the anon reviews but like I don't want to take up so much space up here. Y'all need to sign in and we can chat!
And I don't think I even did this but thank you all for the birthday wishes! Yes, I thank you all a month later. I really have a bad memory about these sort of things. Sorry. :(
It didn't take long for Riley to decide to leave the mountain the next morning. Rex was on a perilous countdown with no defined expiry date. They had to act fast. But where they could find a dog that wasn't already owned was difficult, and they spent their walk back down discussing their various options.
The first dog Riley brought up was Cheyenne, the affable and loyal sidekick to Sunny Smiles. It was the first dog she met after getting shot in the head. But it was ridiculous to even think Sunny would be willing to part with her, and so she was ruled out without much discussion.
There were the dogs that chased her to Freeside, and the crazy woman who followed. She wasn't sure she wanted to go murdering twenty dogs for one brain, though. It seemed a little wasteful, even if they were feral and dangerous. Besides, that was deep into Fiend territory. An operation like that required stealth and a light load, but it was doable. Just not terribly efficient.
The Legion used dogs. Not often during raiding parties, but to guard outposts and bases. She thought back to the four dogs she'd killed in the mines, and wondered aloud if they could just go back and use those brains. That idea was quickly shot down though. Apparently shooting them in the head was what you'd call a slight setback, and that wasn't even counting the fact that they'd be well into the more disgusting stages of decomposition, according to Arcade.
It was Boone who brought up Old Lady Gibson. Riley had almost forgotten the friendly matron and her scrap yard. She kept a handful of mutts around, and one of them had to be nearing his end. She didn't exactly pay them much attention but both Boone and Veronica claimed to remember one or two looked old enough to be viable. She wasn't entirely sure about asking Old Lady Gibson to kill one of her dogs for them—that just seemed cruel. But it was worth a shot and was their safest bet before resorting to other measures.
They stopped at McCarran first, because despite Rex's urgency, other things still needed to be taken care of.
Riley approached the soldier standing guard at the gate. He was about her age, and had the weary and dull look of someone who wasn't a morning person. She greeted him with a smile. "I need to report a caravan wreck we found," she said.
"Another one?"
"What do you mean?"
"I mean that's the third one this month," he raised a clipboard and scribbled on it with a pencil, shaking his head like it was a bad habit these caravans picked up, instead of the tragedy that it really was. He glanced up, as if surprised she was still there, and gave a pointed look at the beret resting on her head. "You'll want to report to Major Dhatri."
Her smile froze on her face. Maybe he thought she was still in First Recon, which was stupid since she wasn't in uniform. Or maybe that's just who handled these reports. She supposed it didn't really matter.
"Right." She gave a stiff nod and motioned for her companions to follow.
Boone joined her at her side as they walked through the camp, passing sandbag fortifications, soldiers doing morning exercises, and the skeletal metal remains of old world vehicles. The last time she'd been here, she'd rushed through the camp, making a beeline for the terminal and the labs of OSI. She hadn't stopped to look for First Recon.
Hadn't wanted to.
Now a nervous flutter started in her belly, followed by an excited anticipation. How was her old unit? Were they even stationed here? Was everyone still alive? How would they react when they saw her?
If they saw her.
"Ready for this?" Boone asked quietly.
She exhaled sharply. "If I say no, can we leave?"
"Yes."
She glanced over at him, absurdly amused. But he was right. Nobody was forcing her to do this, and the thought that she was doing this by choice had an odd calming effect on her as they neared the tents typically occupied by whatever division of First Recon was stationed there.
The lack of noise should have been her first clue. No conversation, no music. The bunks were empty, the beds made. A pistol laid in pieces on one of the tables beside a stack of cards, but there was no one around. No matching red berets to greet them. It was both disappointing and relieving, and she frowned at her own confusion.
"Mission?" Boone suggested. Riley inclined her head, a vague shrug that said it was a possibility. It wasn't like First Recon had to remain in their tent, and McCarran had any number of places they could be.
"You guys stayed here?" Veronica asked, stepping into the tent with them. Riley smiled.
"I was stationed here as a regular soldier before I got reassigned to First Recon. Then I was transferred to Forlorn Hope, Camp Golf, Bullhead City," she lifted a hand, scratched an itch that wasn't there. "Camp Searchlight." And that ended so well. She looked over at Boone, standing with his arms folded, watching her. "You?"
"Here, Camp Golf, Hoover Dam. We did a few stints at a few Ranger stations, using them as bases for smaller missions. I was all over."
"Sounds exciting," Veronica said.
"I guess," said Riley. "The appeal wears off after a while."
Cass leaned her arms on the back of a chair. "So are we just going to wait here for them or—"
"Can I help you?"
They turned at the voice, the annoyed and tired tone of someone in charge. But she knew that voice. It was Major Dhatri, standing in the entrance of the tent, no doubt wondering why five strangers and a dog were inside his unit's quarters.
It took him a moment, but the recognition dawned on his face, replacing the annoyance and was followed swiftly with something close to joy.
"Jensen?"
She swallowed, and cleared her throat. "Yes, sir."
"Boone?"
"Sir."
"Well, I'll—" he stepped into the tent, hand outstretched and they took turns shaking it. "What brings you both around here? Come to visit the old crew?" He frowned, and she could practically see him doing the math in his head. "Wait. You weren't in the same unit. Hell, You didn't even serve at the same time. How did you two meet?"
She glanced up at Boone, wondering if they should tell the commanding officer of First Recon the full details of their meeting, and what it led up to.
Somehow, admitting to premeditated murder didn't seem like a smart course of action.
"She came through my town," Boone explained. "When she left I went with her."
"Just like that, huh?"
"Yeah."
The Major stared at him for a long moment, before allowing the question to pass. "Well what brings you back? Hear about all the bounties we're racking up and looking to cash in?"
"No, sir," Riley said. "But I might want to look at them later? Might be something we could help with."
"Well, sure. We're not going to say no to two of our own taking on some work. Not when we could use the help."
That made her frown. A full unit of First Recon, and they need help taking down targets? But that was for later, they came here for something else. She moved, bringing her freckled friend into view and letting her step forward.
"Sir, this is our friend, Sharon Cassidy—" she had to take a larger step aside as her friend shoved her hand into the open air.
"Cass."
"Cass," Riley corrected herself as they shook hands. "And we need to report something we found."
A sad look of knowing passed over the Major's face. "I think I know what this is about. Alright, come on into my office, and we'll sort through this."
The report took less than half an hour. Major Dhatri listened, asked questions, took notes, then made them all sign witness forms. He promised to bring it up with Colonel Hsu himself, since besides Cassidy Caravans, and besides Griffin Wares, three other caravan companies were hit and demolished in the same manner over the last two months.
It was simply too much to be a coincidence, and he vowed to push for an investigation. That handled, and Cass pacified, he asked to speak to Riley and Boone alone. Their friends filed out, wandering away while Riley shifted nervously in her seat.
"Sir, before you say anything, can I ask about Bravo?"
He gave an impressive version of a poker face. "You can, don't know what I can tell you though."
She leaned forward in her seat. "Is everyone okay? Did anyone—"
He lifted his hands, stopping her. "Everyone is fine. They're down one team since you and Noah, but they're operational."
She heaved a sigh of relief. Thank god. "Are they here?"
"Not just yet. Now." He sat back in his chair, fingers brushing against his beard while he mulled over his thoughts. She wanted to ask if they were the team sent over the river, but interrupting your commanding officer was something her mother wouldn't have stood for. So she sat patiently and waited. "I don't know how to ask you this," he said finally. "So I'm just come out and say it, Jensen. How have you been doing?"
She blinked. They'd already done pleasantries. "Sir?"
He sighed. "You know damn well what I'm asking. You stopped keeping your appointments with Usanagi over eleven months ago. We were hoping you'd make a recovery and come back to us but without her clearance that's impossible."
"I don't—" she avoided looking at Boone. Why couldn't he have asked her this without him here? She didn't want him giving him a timeline on anything. "Sir, I— the appointments weren't helping."
"You didn't answer my question."
She forced herself to keep from exhaling sharply. Commanding officer, commanding officer, commanding officer...
"I'm not… one hundred percent," she said slowly, looking down at her hands. She remembered the Madre, the panic, the paralyzing fear. Nothing had happened since then, but who was to say it wouldn't? "I don't think I'll be coming back, sir."
"And you, Boone?" he turned to her partner. "Word reached us about your wife. I'm truly sorry."
Boone stayed quiet.
"Heard it was Legion that wronged you."
Boone frowned, but still, he said nothing. This didn't faze the Major, Riley realised. Maybe Boone was always this quiet.
"Could be active duty might help you even the score a little."
She flicked her gaze over to him, abruptly worried he'd take him up on the offer. But there was no hesitation in his answer.
"We've got it covered."
The Major sighed. "I thought as much, but I had to ask. I'm going to be honest with you two: our situation isn't good. Morale is low, and the quality of the recruits and conscripts I'm getting in, some don't even last a week out there. I had a fresh unit three weeks ago who didn't even make their first transfer over to Forlorn Hope."
That didn't surprise her.
"We need experienced soldiers. That's all there is to it. Hell, the only thing that's brought the morale of the soldiers up lately is this Courier we keep hearing about on the radio."
Oh Jesus Christ.
"She's inspiring, whoever she is," Dhatri went on, his eyes on her. "Fights for what's right, even though it isn't her fight."
She fought the urge to laugh. It would have sounded a little hysterical. "Oh?"
"Could be she knows what she's doing. Could be she doesn't. She gets results, though, I can tell you that. But, I tell you what else," he leaned over, tugging on a drawer and digging around inside. He pulled out a bundle of letters and tossed it onto the desk between them. "She keeps doing our job and forgetting about her own."
She stared. Her name was scrawled across the top envelope in a pretty hand. Her name? Who was left to write to her? Both her parents were dead. She might have had friends in the army but none that close. The hell?
She said nothing, unable to formulate a thought beyond a pathetic 'what?'.
"What kind of Courier doesn't even pick up her own mail?" Dhatri added.
"Not a very good one," she replied. His eyes brightened as he smiled at her.
"Guess she's just better at other things. Now. You and your friends can rest here as long as you like," he said, gathering the stack of reports they just went over. "I'm going to go talk to the Colonel about all this, so I'll leave you to it." He pushed up from his chair and they stood respectively until he was out of the tent before sitting back down. Then she was looking down at the bundle of letters again. Some of the envelopes were faded, some dry and brittle. None were opened.
"Not sure, but I think he knows it's you," Boone said. She glanced over at him and tried not to smile at the amused look on his face.
"You think?"
"Bravo's not here," he added, crossing one leg over so his boot rested on his knee. She turned back to the pile of letters on a sigh.
"No. But they're okay. That's what matters."
She picked it up, turning the bundle over in her hands while she mused over what to do with it.
"Someone you know?" Boone asked.
"No one who should be writing letters to me," she said, tugging on the string. "No family left."
"Someone in Bravo?" he suggested. She pulled free the first missive. The one that looked oldest.
"Maybe," she allowed. There was no return address, which would make sense if it was someone stationed here. She opened it swiftly, yanking free paper until she sat with an unfolded letter in her already shaky hands.
Dear Riley,
Can I call you Riley? I don't know if you'd prefer that or something more formal, if you'd even want me writing to you, so forgive me if this upsets you. You don't know me, but you know of me. And I hope this vague connection is enough that you can reply. My name is Jennifer and—
Her heart thudded in her chest and she folded the letter back up, probably a little too abruptly, going by the look on Boone's face.
"What is it?"
"Nothing," she said, stuffing the piece of paper back into the envelope. She forced a smile. "It can wait."
She tucked the bundle of letters into her bag without re-tying the string, scowling as letters fell from the pile in an attempt to escape to the depths of her bag. She made a lame effort to gather them, then abandoned it once her frustration got the best of her, and closed the bag before she could change her mind—but not before noticing each one was addressed in the same hand. Countless letters, with no doubt countless questions. All unanswered.
Shit.
She looked up and found Boone watching her quietly.
"Going to explain?" he asked.
"Later."
"It's always later."
"Because I don't know how to react to it now," she exclaimed. "I need to think. I need—"
"To calm down."
"Shut up," she pressed her fingers into her eyes, thinking. Then she looked up. "Carla."
His entire demeanour shifted, suddenly and abruptly looking both tired and regretful of this entire conversation. "What?"
She gave him a look, one that begged for a little patience. "Did she have a mother? Relatives? When she died."
He sighed.
"Answer for an answer, Riley."
"Fine. Okay. Yes. Did she?"
His finger tapped irritably along the sole of his boot. "Parents died young. Had a grandmother when we were married. But she passed away before Cottonwood."
Not helpful.
"If she was alive, the grandmother," Riley pressed. "What would you say to her?"
Boone stared at her. A long moment that hung heavy and silent in the air. "Why?"
She reached back into her bag and yanked out one of the letters, holding it up like some sort of incriminating evidence against her lies and her cowardice.
"It's his sister," she blurted. "Noah's. Sister."
