Chapter 27: Return

It was late when Cross climbed the hill to Camp Forlorn Hope. She was absolutely exhausted but she kept moving. She could barely see straight and almost missed the worried glances from the NCR troopers on guard. Everything hurt. Everything. She could only remember one other time she felt this bad; after she'd escaped the Legion. She was limping and fighting for every breath. But she kept going: one foot in front of the other. She was almost there. She almost had what she so desperately sought and the only thing that was keeping her going. She slowly headed for the command tent.

"Halt! Identify yourself!" The troopers on guard called when she got close. She was confused. It took several moments before she remembered the hazmat darklight cowl and hood she was wearing. Couple that with the bulky hazmat suit she wore and her unfamiliar armaments and she realized she probably looked like a completely different person. Coughing, Cross pulled the cowl off and wearily eyed the troopers.

"Shit! You're the courier!" One of the soldiers said in surprise. He turned and pulled the tent flap aside and yelled inside. "Major! The courier! She's here!" He yelled. A moment later several people rushed out of the tent. Cross was so tired she didn't even recognize the faces.

"Jesus fucking Christ, Courier! Where the hell have you been?!"

Cross heard the angry female voice beside her. She turned her weary eyes that way and recognized the red beret more than anything. The red beret her partner wore. "Boone?" She croaked. It was hoarse and raspy and even that single word hurt to say. Her throat burned, almost as bad as her lungs.

"Fuck, courier. It's me, Betsy!"

Not Boone. Not Boone. Cross sighed at the realization that what she sought was still out of reach. The sigh turned into a fit of coughing that ended with her spitting blood onto the sand.

"Christ, get the doc!" Betsy yelled and someone rushed out of Cross's sight.

"Where's…" Cross rasped. Each word clawed its way free from her chest causing an agony that matched the pain in her heart. "Boone." Her vision started to waver and she didn't notice the nervous glances cast between her onlookers.

"We… don't know." The major answered. Cross looked toward the voice and managed to lock eyes with him. "Rangers last saw him to the southeast. He was getting recklessly close to the Fort's patrols, on the east side of the river."

Cross's brows drew down in thought. "Fort?" She asked tiredly, the only thing that was keeping her upright now was a braced and balanced stance.

"Courier, what happened? Boone spent weeks looking for you." Betsy explained.

Cross closed her eyes and focused on breathing and not the burning pain in her chest or the raw pain in her throat or even the prickly pain of her skin.

"What's wrong?" Someone asked as they approached her.

Cross just shook her head. "Sleep." She managed.

There was a moment of silence before Betsy spoke. "Come on, Courier. I'll show you to a tent." Betsy and someone else lead the way and Cross went to follow. On the first step she staggered but barely managed to keep her footing. She then followed the red beret the short distance to an empty tent.

"Courier, there's something you need to know." Betsy began when they stood outside the tent. Cross focused weary eyes on Betsy. "Boone's lost it. He spent more than three weeks scouring the desert for any sign of you. A few days ago he showed up in camp. Barely said a word to anyone. Bought out the quartermaster's supply of .308 ammo and headed south. We tried to stop him but it was obvious that he didn't care what we had to say. Courier, he's armed to the teeth, on the east side of the river, alone. He's on a suicide mission." Cross nodded solemnly, barely even hearing the words and not grasping the severity of the situation in her exhaustion. "Get some rest; we'll talk in the morning."

Cross fell onto the cot with her small pack and rifle still on her back. She wasn't sure if she fell asleep or passed out.

Cross woke before dawn from a nightmare of a world wrapped in red. The few hours of sleep she had gotten were enough to bring her back to merely walking wounded. As she shook off the last of the sleep, Betsy's words came back to her. He's on a suicide mission. The realization brought her instantly alert. She pulled off her pack and grabbed a stimpak. She applied the stim directly to her chest then refit her pack on her back. She grabbed her holorifle off the ground where it had fallen while she slept and headed south out of camp before sunrise.

It took her two extremely long days to find him. Day one was spent trekking to Cottonwood Cove and finding a safe avenue across the river. She only stopped when she thought she'd collapse if she didn't. Everything still hurt but the realization that she could already be too late to help Boone somehow provided her with will to go on. The morning of day two was spent evading Legion patrols and trying to track her partner. She let herself fall into an old mindset and instinct and muscle memory took over where conscious thought failed her. Eventually she gave up trying to track him and decided to head to the Fort. She found a vantage point and set up. Then she surveyed the camp through her digital scope.

The first thing that struck her about the Fort was how poorly defended it was. There were far fewer legionaries than she was expecting. The reason for this, she found just outside the main gates. She trained her scope on a large pile of burning legionary corpses. A lump rose in her throat at the fact that she might be too late. She scanned the camp quickly, looking for any sign of her partner. She saw a myriad of slaves running to and fro and half a dozen prisoners in cells along the wall of the camp. It was a flash of red that caught her attention since it wasn't Legion red. She zoomed in and her heart sank. There was Boone, her partner, hanging from a cross within sight of Camp Forlorn Hope. He was shirtless and missing his usual sunglasses but he still wore his beret. Likely to demoralized anyone from the NCR who saw him. Cross did let out a small sigh of relief at the fact that other than some nasty bruises and a sunburn, he didn't look like he'd been up there long; not even a full day yet. And it didn't look like he'd been tortured. She made the decision then and there; she was assaulting the Fort. Now.

She reached into her pack and pulled out a stimpak and two syringes of med-x. Carefully she applied the stim and one dose of med-x to her arm. She waited until the med-x took effect and grumbled when she was still in pain. She then applied the second dose of med-x to her arm. Moments later she almost sighed in relief as the powerful painkiller eased the pains she had been suffering with for weeks now. She took a few deep breaths and worked her joints. If she was doing this she needed to be able to breath and move freely.

Cross looked over the entire camp and made a mental note of her targets. Even as undefended as it was she would still need Boone's help to clear the whole camp. But she wouldn't be able to take her eyes off the fight long enough to free and reequip him. Her scope fell on the prisoners and she thought she recognized the ragged remains of a NCR uniform on one of them. She'd free the prisoners and get them to free Boone.

She took a few deep breaths to calm her nerves and steady her hands, then she opened fire on the expose targets. Her new holorifle had several advantages to a standard hunting rifle. First, there was no bullet drop off over distance due to gravity. Second, a hit anywhere usually ashed the target. Third, there was no recoil between shots. And fourth, it was silent. Once she couldn't see any more legionaries, she mustered her strength and rushed into the camp. She headed straight for the cells, killing anyone who got in her way. She got to the cells and dropped her pack. She was panting by now and she could feel the pain in her chest through the shield the med-x had provided.

"Help me… and you might live." She said quickly. The sound of her voice through the cowl's filters made it unrecognizable. Using a nearby machete and a painful exertion of strength, she managed to pry open the first cell. "Help me with the others!" She ordered and the soldier quickly complied. Cross covered the soldier while he got the other prisoners free.

"Find weapons." She ordered. "Do you know where the sniper is? Or his gear?" She asked quickly.

"Yeah. Both." The soldier said with a nod.

"I'll need his help if we want to get through this." Cross explained. The soldier nodded. "Well, get to it!" Cross yelled and the former prisoners scattered.

Boone had stopped caring hours ago. He had nothing left and no reason to go on. With his death, he'd managed to kill dozens of legionaries in their own fort. He even managed a few melee kills before they took him down. He had been expecting torture. Figured it was what he deserved. But when the praetorians had hauled him in front of Caesar, he discovered Caesar had other plans. He announced that since Boone wasn't enlisted, he probably didn't have any useful intelligence. Instead the bald old man had told his followers to crucify the sniper within sight of the NCR outpost. He wanted the sniper to survive on the cross as long as possible so they skipped the torture. He also wanted to make sure they let him die with his beret on, so everyone in First Recon would know the Legion had caught him. That was just after his predawn raid, maybe twelve hours ago if he had to guess.

As he hung there, wrists bloody from the ropes around them, he occasionally opened his eyes and lifted his head to glance at the NCR camp in the distance. He felt eyes on him, maybe he was imagining it, but it wouldn't surprise him if Betsy or Sterling had him in their sights. The Legion camp behind him had been quiet until recently. Though he couldn't see what was going on, it soundly like something was happening, maybe fresh soldier had arrived. It didn't matter though. Nothing mattered anymore. Boone let out a heavy breath as he closed his eyes and let his chin fall back to his chest.

"First Recon?" He heard after a few minutes. He wouldn't have even opened his eyes but it didn't sound like a legionary. He cracked open his eyes and saw two men standing at the base of his cross, one was in slave rags and the other was in a tattered NCR uniform. What caught his eye was the sniper rifle, his sniper rifle, in the soldier's hand.

"Come on, First Recon! Wake up!" The soldier implored. Through a parched throat Boone managed a grunt. "Thank God!" The soldier cried out. A moment later Boone found himself on the ground with his back against the cross and a canteen of water in his hand. As he drank in silence he felt a prick in his shoulder he could only assume was a stimpak. He noticed then the soldier also had Boone's pack and combat armour with him.

"Listen, First Recon." The soldier said earnestly. "Someone's shooting their way through the Fort. He said he needs your help. I hope you're up for it."

Fate was toying with him. Every time, every goddamned time he thought it was finally over something saved him. He had been ready to die, content with his meager contribution to the war against the Legion and finally at peace. The only regret he had left was that he hadn't managed to kill Caesar. This was his chance to kill the bastard. Then he was done with this world, one way or another.

"My armour." Boone croaked as he pushed himself to his feet. The soldier quickly handed over the armour and Boone hastily donned the chest plate over his bare chest. "Rifle." He demanded next. In a matter of minutes, Boone was reequipped and ready to resume his assault. "Where is he?"

"Dunno. But the doors are still closed to the upper area. He might be headed there."

Boone nodded and forced himself into a jog toward the doors. As he worked his way through the camp, he came across several piles of ash. Someone had an energy weapon. He weaved through the tents to the base of the hill leading to the big double doors. Once he reached the hill he saw a legionary on the upper wall. The legionary saw him too and raised a rifle in his direction as Boone raised his own he heard a soft clang and saw a blue laser bolt streak through the air, hitting the legionary and turning him to ash. His eyes tracked the bolt back to its point of origin and he saw someone in a dark brown hazmat suit, a gas mask and a cowl. They had a strange rifle, the likes of which he had never seen before. He jogged over to the person and crouched behind their cover.

"Ideas for the doors?" Came a harsh greeting from the stranger. The voice was rough and obscured by the mask. Boone pulled off his pack and dug through until he found the powder charge he had brought with him. The mask nodded. "I'll cover-" The stranger seemed to gag and choke before coughing repeatedly. After a moment, they caught their breath and shook their head. "Go." They said motioning to the gates.

Boone nodded and hustled to the gate. He quickly set the change and the five second timer. He hit the switch and ran to cover. A few seconds later the blast went off and blew the doors wide open. By the time he got back to the door, the stranger had caught up and they both took a different side of the door as cover. They fired repeatedly until the legionaries and dogs stopped coming.

"Moving up." Boone called and headed into the upper level. They leap frogged through the area with the tents and eventually came upon the tent Boone had been dragged into earlier that day; Caesar's tent. He found the closest bit of cover and signaled for the stranger join him. They jogged up and slipped in beside him behind the cover. "He's in there." Boone provided. "With at least eight praetorians." Boone noticed that his current support, and likely only ally in the coming fight, was panting for breath. The stranger shrugged out of their pack and quickly pulled out a syringe of med-x. Boone kept his focus on the nearby tent, but watched out of the corner of his eye as the stranger injected the med-x into their neck.

After a few moments, the strange spoke. "I'll burn… it down." He watched as the stranger forced themselves to their feet and stumbled to a nearby fire pit. With a burning torch in their hand, they cautiously approached the tent then they hurled the torch onto the roof of the tent. They were stumbling back to cover when the first praetorian came out. Boone took him down with a headshot. The rest of the praetorian took that as a signal to charge. They were fast but only one got close to the snipers. Even two on one, the praetorian had the advantage. He managed to tackle the stranger to the ground but that gave Boone a clear shot. A strange sound pulled Boone's attention back to the tent where he saw a figure silhouetted by the burning tent, slowly clapping.

"Bravo!" Said the man Boone had been sentenced to death by. "Tell me, sniper, what did the Legion do to you to inspire such determination?" Boone gritted his teeth and, with his rifle pointed at the tyrant, slowly approached him. "Wait. Don't tell me. One of my Centurions already has. We took your wife and unborn child. And rather than see them join the Legion, you killed them. Someone with a resolve like that would make a fine legionary." Boone stopped a few feet from Caesar, rifle still pointed directly at his head. "Don't tell me you're just an idiot grunt who can't even hold up his end of a conversation."

"You took everything from me." Boone seethed.

Caesar huffed derisively. "Not nearly, though I did try." Caesar sighed. "War would have tested your people. Broken the weak with its violence, yet allowing the strong to arise. Violence gave you this strength, awakened you. I can see it on your face."

"War makes us all monsters." Boone snarled. "I shoulder a terrible burden, so others won't have to." Boone took aim. "Thumbs down, you son of a bitch." He pulled the trigger. The gunshot was deafening in the still, evening air. It took Boone a moment to realize exactly what he had just pulled off.

"He's dead." He said to himself matter-of-factly as he looked down at what was left of Caesar's head. A wave of exhaustion and dizziness washed over him and he sat down hard in the dirt rather than fall down. It was a hollow victory, but a victory nonetheless. He heard heavy footsteps behind him and glanced over to see the stranger in the hazmat suit approaching him from behind. They stopped a few feet behind him and stared at the body. Boone looked up toward the darkening sky. "Wish she was here to see it."

Cross sighed heavily, barely preventing a coughing fit. When she'd first seen Boone approaching in the lower camp she'd wanted nothing more than to pull off her mask and run into his arms. She'd managed to stop herself only because they needed to focus and her reveal would have distracted Boone. Now, it was over. Now, what she so desperately sought was within arm's reach.

"I am, Boone." The rough androgynous voice came from his masked savior.

"What?" Boone asked out of reflex. He looked over to his rescuer to see them reach up and remove their hazmat mask. The waning light revealed the woman he'd spent three weeks looking for; the woman he was sure was dead; the woman who abandoned him. She looked down at him and smiled meekly. Boone's immediate reaction was relief but before he could think of something to say, that relief was replaced with anger. As exhausted as he was, he got to his feet.

"Where have you been?!" He growled roughly. Before Cross could answer he continued. "I did everything I could to find you!" He growled again as he stepped close, realizing that without the hazmat mask she seemed significantly shorter and more easily recognizable as his partner.

"I know." Was all she replied as the meek smile left her face. Her voice was raspy and harsh against his ears; not the same voice he'd become accustomed to after months of being partners.

"Do you have any idea what I went through?" He growled. "Twenty five days of torture worse than anything the legion could do to me!" Cross flinched at the anger in his voice and had to make a conscious effort to not take a step back away from him.

"You made me a promise." Boone seethed quietly. "You promised you wouldn't leave me behind. You broke that promise. I lost everything once. I told you it'd break me to lose anyone else."

Cross went to speak but Boone cut her off. "When I woke up alone in that bunker… It wasn't worth it. None of it. The good you've done is insignificant compared to all the pain and suffering you brought with you." Boone shook his head. "I wish I'd never met you. I wish you'd died in Goodsprings!"

Cross was silent. He wished she had never come into his life. He wished she had died. What could she even say to that? She knew that despite his stony façade, Boone often struggled with his strong emotions. And he'd suffered greatly in her absence. Even if leaving wasn't her choice. Even if she was held against her will. Even if she had never stopped trying to get back to him. He'd suffered because of her. She lowered her grey eyes from his and looked at the dirt.

"What?" Boone asked harshly. "Got nothing to say about it?!"

Cross glanced up at him tiredly. "I never meant for this to happen." She answered meekly.

"But it did."

Cross had to explain. She hadn't wanted to leave. She hadn't left by choice. "And I'm sorry for that but-"

"I don't want to hear it." Boone interrupted dismissively. "Maybe your father was right, maybe you can't care about anyone."

Cross flinched at the remark then sighed. "Maybe he was." She admitted bitterly. A moment of silence passed between them. Cross noticed it was almost full dark. "There's a bunch of people at the bottom of the hill that need an escort somewhere safe." She finally said. "There's a river crossing not far from here then it'll take a few hours to get to Forlorn Hope. Can I count of you to help me with the escort?"

"Fine."

"We can go our separate ways from Forlorn Hope." Cross said sadly.

They walked through the night. It took a few hours to reach the river crossing. By dawn they were only a few hours from Forlorn Hope. Cross was already beyond exhausted. She was having trouble keeping up with the rest of the group. Even the people who had been in Legion hands for quite a while were faring better than her. Her chest ached, every breath was agony. Her neck burned, inside and out. Her joints throbbed, threatening to give out at any moment. The hazmat suit hid the worst of the injuries. She was grateful for its high collar; it hid the still healing gouges out of her neck from the slave collar she'd worn for weeks. They would likely scar. Inevitably, her knee gave out and she fell onto one knee in the sand.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" She heard a rough voice from behind her. The voice was bitter and spiteful; the anger and intolerance easily recognizable.

Cross took a moment to catch her breath. All her medical supplies had been spent treating the people from the Fort, including the stimpaks that she had been using daily to prevent her chest from getting any worse and the med-x that made her able to function. They were only a few hours away from Forlorn Hope. Only a few hours. She could make it. Who was she kidding? She didn't have the strength to get up. And she didn't have the will to go on. The one thing she had so desperately wanted, the one thing that had kept her going these last few days, was gone.

"You're going to have to go on without me." She finally replied through gritted teeth.

"What?" The question was the first word she'd heard from Boone that sounded like he did before she'd left.

"I'm just… slowing you down." She sighed as she watched the rest of the group come to a stop around her.

"Were you hit at the Fort?"

"No."

"What happened to Ker's bullshit bravado?" He asked, still behind her.

That was enough to get a single coughed laugh out of her. She spat the accompanying blood onto the sand and wiped at her lips with the back of her gloved hand. "Even I have my limits."

"What happened?" He asked, almost softly.

"I was taken somewhere where the air was toxic. I think it did permanent damage before I could get away." Cross explained succinctly.

"Taken?" Cross heard surprise in his voice.

"What, you think I left willingly?" She shot back angrily, immediately regretting it, as her throat and lungs burned. She clutched at her chest involuntarily but bit back the cry of pain.

"I thought…" Boone started but trailed off.

"Some mad man needed bodies to throw at the Sierra Madre's defenses. He was kidnapping anyone who triggered the bunker traps." Cross shrugged off her pack and pulled out her nearly empty canteen as she spoke. She slowly drank what was left then stowed the empty canteen away. She searched her pack for anything that might be helpful, anything she might have missed. There was nothing; no medical supplies, no water, nothing left but some holorifle ammo and a few camping supplies. Nothing left, and no reason to go on. "I'm sorry I left, Boone. And I'm sorry it took me so long to get back. And I'm sorry I couldn't send some kind of message. And I'm sorry you ended up in Legion hands. And…" Cross swallowed hard. "I'm sorry I survived Goodsprings." The tightness building in her throat made breathing worse and she started coughing, hard. Hard enough that it brought tears to her eyes, or at least that's what she told herself. By the time she stopped coughing the palm of her glove was wet with blood. She smiled sadly to herself. "Don't worry, Boone. I think I'll be out of your life soon enough."

"What do you mean?" He said, low and cold. Just like when they first met.

"It's getting worse." Cross shrugged the holorifle off her shoulder. "Here, take this rifle, you may find a use for it." She placed the rifle on the hard sand beside her. "Get these people to Forlorn Hope. And if you ever get the chance, head down to Cottonwood Cove. I left a present for you in the building near the dock."

"And you?"

"I think I finally found the biggest bad out here, Boone. The Cloud is going to win, despite my best efforts. It's only a matter of time." Cross heard Boone move behind her. A moment later she felt him pull on her arm and he hoisted her to her feet, her arm over his shoulders and his arm around her waist. "What are you doing?" She asked as she looked over at him wearily.

"I thought I'd lost you once, I won't let it happen again."

Cross could barely stand, even supported by Boone. He was bearing almost all her weight. "You can't." She said firmly. "You must have been up on that cross at least a day. I don't expect you to-"

"I don't care what you expect." He said quietly from beside her. "Grab her pack and rifle." He then bellowed. "Let's go."