"Why do you keep that thing around, anyway?"

Boone stood over the Courier, who stood over the eyebot with a screwdriver in hand. They had camped at a little trading post just down the road from Boulder City, arriving in the night and figuring if the situation was as hostile as the redhead in the bar had said, they should wait until morning to head over. It was early in the morning when the eyebot had dropped out of the air, thudding between the two's bedrolls.

It had startled Boone awake, which was unfortunate, as for once he was between nightmares, fallen into a dreamless sleep. Immediately the blond got to work, springing to his feet, digging through his backpack for little pieces of wire, scrap metal, tape, and a screwdriver.

During the time the Courier knelt over the robot, Boone had gotten dressed, shaved, brushed his teeth, and ate breakfast. The Courier… had fiddled with a robot. Boone tried to quell his frustration.

"It's a friend," the boy said simply, chewing on a cigarette. He had not yet lit it.

"It's a robot."

"More than that!" The blond looked up from the pile of bolts on the floor. "ED-E has loyalty, intelligence, a need to communicate with others. He knows tactics. I travelled with just him long before I met you," the Courier grinned. "We got to know each other. He has my back, I have his."

Frowning, Boone crouched and looked over the eyebot's shell, really looking at the stickers adorning the outside.

"Look at him," the boy said. "Someone loved this thing. Maybe multiple people. I have to believe there's a reason for that."

The blond leaned back and dug in his pocket. He withdrew a lighter. Once he was able to inhale the cigarette instead of only sucking on it, he reassembled the eyebot, screwing back into place its plate. ED-E popped up, its hovering no longer haphazard. It beeped twice.

"See? He's happy I fixed him."

"It's a robot," Boone repeated. "It's beeping because robots beep."

The blond turned to the robot, removing his cigarette from his lips to exhale. "ED-E, are you happy I fixed you?"

Again, ED-E beeped twice.

"See?"

"What does that even prove?" Boone scoffed, turning away.

"That he understands me! He's not just a machine." The Courier stood, dusting off his knees. He was still in his underwear. Of course, since he'd spent the entire morning fixing the damned thing instead of getting ready to go to Boulder City. "There's something magical inside these wires, Boone. I promise, even if you can't see it."

Silently, he agreed: he couldn't see it. Boone saw nothing except a confusing blob of wires and metal. Nothing magical or show-stopping like the boy boasted.

Cleaning up the mess, throwing some pieces back into his bag, the boy continued and said, "We should get going."

"I'll say," Boone muttered. He walked away to get the scent of cigarettes out of his nose. It wasn't that he did or didn't like it - hell, he used to smoke when he drank - but the stench would not get out of his clothes if he spent more time around it.

He waited for what seemed like forever, standing stock-still, watching the fluffy clouds in the sky blow by. Finally the Courier and ED-E emerged, packed up and ready to go. The blond's hair was damp, stuck to his forehead, and he shoved his ball cap over top as he walked into the hot Mojave sun. He'd washed it. He'd also stuck his half-smoked cigarette behind his ear.

The team walked down the road to Boulder City. Boone spotted the rubble from a mile away.

"Robots just make sense to me, Boone. It's like… when you aim your gun. What do you see?"

Boone paused and thought about it. What did he see? Movement, to start. Then how far away it was, whether he could hit it or not. If it could see him back by the time he shot. Worst case scenario, if he missed, if he could hide. Finally, he decided what - or who - it was, and if he should shoot it. And then instinct kicked in. Bottom-up processing. Take the information and assemble it together, like the pieces of his rifle when he cleaned it.

But that wasn't what he looked for, or had to think about. The movement was it. The rest just happened.

"I don't really see anything," Boone grunted. "Something moving, I guess. The rest just…"

"Comes to you," he guessed. "It's like second nature, right? You aim, you breathe, and you shoot."

"Squeeze," Boone corrected him. "It's not shooting, it's squeezing the trigger."

"Exactly. It's all instinct. It's what's in your head," the boy explained. "When I see the bundle of wires inside ED-E or a computer or something, it's just like that. I see the connections, the wires and bits of stuff, but I just know where things go, what to do with it." Grinning, the Courier took the cigarette out from behind his ear and relit it. "Instinct. All in my head."

Clearly, not the only thing that was all in his head. Through puffs of his cigarette, the boy whistled some tune, chipper as always. Boone bit back his complaints, figuring he'd put up with it for the short jaunt to the city.

Although, as they approached, it was evident that city was a little bit of an overstatement. Boulder City was in ruins. Little remained except for rubble, all of the buildings destroyed. However, Boone did not see evidence of the supposed Khan presence there. Only NCR.

"Something's wrong," Boone said. "Stay close."

The Courier obeyed, falling back in line with Boone. As they approached the fence, the NCR soldier raised his rifle to the two of them. Somehow, the boy missed it, and Boone had to grab his shoulder, holding him back.

"We don't mean any harm," Boone called out.

"Shit, are you First Recon? Did we get reinforcements?" the man said. He lowered his rifle as he squinted at the two of them.

Boone took the opportunity to advance towards the man with his companion in tow.

"No," he said. "Just NCR citizens passing through."

The man snorted. "Good luck with that. The brass at McCarran ordered me to lock down until we can resolve the situation."

Ah. So it'd be weeks, if not months, depending on how on top of their shit the NCR decided to be. The brass at McCarran was unreliable at best, inept at worst.

"What's the situation?" the Courier interjected.

"Assholes took hostages." The man scratched at his beard, looking askance at the two of them. "They were on their way back from Novac when they got into a firefight here with the Khans. Took two of my men when we came.

"I need to talk to them," the boy insisted.

"To my men?"

"No, to the Khans."

"Like I said, good luck with that. I have orders to shoot them on sight, and I'm sure the Khans are aware of it." He paused, looking Boone up and down. "As I'm sure your friend knows."

Boone removed his sunglasses, rubbing the bridge of his nose. Did he have something painted on his forehead telling everyone he was at Bitter Springs? There were other members of the First Recon who were there, too. Did they get the same treatment, or was it just Boone?

He sighed. Not like it mattered, anyway. The man was right.

"If we can get them to release the hostages, will you let them go?"

"Be my guest. Not my fault if I have to scrape four NCR bodies instead of two off the ground. You got dog tags you wanna give me in advance?" he asked, addressing Boone specifically.

But before Boone could respond, the kid just said, "We won't die."

"Good luck with that."

And they pushed inside the gated-off city. Boone had his rifle readied, and the Courier followed his lead, his pistol in his hand. There were no signs of life in the city. Boone saw nothing, sensed no movement.

Something was wrong.

The Courier stayed right next to him. "Where are they?" the kid asked. Boone shook his head, his eyes darting from side to side, asking the same question himself.

"This isn't right," he breathed. They should be out, visible, waiting for them.

Next to him, the kid cocked his pistol. Boone frowned.

"You know, you're better with -"

Someone exploded out from next to Boone and in a flash, his rifle was thrown on the street next to him and he was face down on the pavement. His cheek scraped into the road. The Khan stood on him, his boot on his neck, so if Boone wanted to move or speak, he'd probably get his neck broken. Next to him, the Courier stood, his hands up in the air, his pistol dangling from his finger.

"We don't want any trouble," he said. "Just calm down."

"Oh, so they sent the NCR's fucking militia in after us?" the Khan spat. Boone tried to wriggle out from under his foot, but the Khan just put more weight on him. "Why shouldn't I shoot you and your friend right now, kid?"

The Courier shook his head. "You guys fucked that up the first time. Remember?"

Boone heard a door open. He tried to crane his head to see it, but he received a heel ground into the base of his skull, so he gave up.

"What the hell is going on out here?"

"Jessup," the Khan said, "you're going to want to see this."

Footsteps. The sound of his breathing, short and desperate and apprehensive. And then a pregnant pause.

"What the hell? You're that Courier Benny wasted back in Goodsprings. You're supposed to be dead."

Boone heard the kid laugh. "I got better."

"You know you're traveling with a fucking murderer, right?" the Khan snarled. Jessup. Whoever he was.

"Would you not have been a murderer had I not emerged from the dead?"

"I didn't kill innocent little kids."

"Who said anything about killing kids?"

"Ask your friend," the Khan sneered. "Knows a lot about committing genocide."

"I can't ask him," the kid pointed out. "You have him pinned to the ground."

"Which is where he'll stay until I'm sure you're not a threat."

The Courier sighed. "Wouldn't I have killed you guys already if I was a threat? I have an eyebot, after all. He could laser you into a pile of ash if I asked nice enough." His tone was listless, almost disinterested. Interesting choice when Boone's head was about to get caved in.

Boone heard nothing, and then he felt the boot lift from his neck. Slowly, he shambled to his feet. In front of them stood four Khans, all holding knives or guns, all with incredibly sour expressions on their faces. All except for the de facto leader, Jessup, who looked like he'd seen a ghost.

"I'm glad we can handle this like civilized people," the Courier said. "Now, down to business. I think you have something of mine."

He received blank stares from the men.

"Platinum Chip. Ring any bells?"

"Oh. No, don't have it. Benny stole it back right after he stabbed us in the back."

Boone watched the Courier's face fall. The kid cursed under his breath, and he resumed chewing on his lip. His forearm wriggled again. Twitchy, just like normal.

"The guy's probably back at The Strip by now. You can find him at The Tops, if you have a death wish." The Khan paced, flicking his fingers along the sharp edge of his knife. Nervous. Probably wouldn't do well with sudden movements. Boone idly wondered if he could take him in a fight. Boone had more muscle, more height. Less close combat training. He was down his rifle, too. It was still lying on the pavement a few feet behind him. No way he could get to it quick enough.

And even if he did, one of the other three would sink a bullet into him faster than the voice in the back of his head could call him a murderer again.

"Let's talk about getting you guys out of here," the boy suggested. "The NCR will let you go if you let the hostages go. We worked that out. No one else has to die."

Jessup rolled his eyes. He hocked something out of the back of his throat and spat it on the pavement in front of him. "Fuck the NCR." Boone stiffened. He still had his machete on him. He could end him if he had to, if the kid had his back. And he wanted to, especially seeing how Jessup had spat that directly at Boone. As if he was the only spokesman of the NCR that existed.

"So hostile," the Courier purred. "Strong words for an army that outnumbers you four to one outside these walls."

"They were gonna kill us regardless," Jessup muttered. "NCR's good at that. Killing anything they don't agree with." Again, directed at Boone.

"Hey, have I killed you yet?" Boone sniped.

But the Courier's hand darted out, smacking Boone across the chest. "Let me handle this, Boone," he whispered. So Boone stepped back and held his tongue. "You let the hostages go, they don't kill you. What's wrong with that?"

"You're fooling yourself if you think they won't just shoot us dead once we let them go," Jessup said.

They had a point. NCR probably had orders to shoot on sight, regardless of the hostage situation, especially considering how certain the Lieutenant outside had been that the two of them would die in there.

It wasn't like Boone blamed them for their lack of trust.

"So then how do we help?" the boy asked.

"You wanna fucking help, you escort us back to Red Rock," Jessup said. "They won't shoot us with an NCR escort, since that's the only thing they fucking respect."

"An escort?"

"Use your red-capped friend right there," Jessup said, nodding towards Boone. "They wouldn't shoot at us if he could get in the way. Too busy sucking him off for his acts of bravery."

"So you'd use me as your hostage," Boone confirmed. His tone was wooden, almost hollow. Not even angry, really. He just thought it was funny they'd exchange two NCR hostages for one. Seemed like a losing deal.

He didn't take it well, though. "Hey, would you rather I shoot you dead, murderer?" Again, a pang of anger and shame crackled throughout Boone and he fought back the urge to lunge at the man and end him where he stood. Even if he was right, who was he to spit that back at him?

"Let the NCR soldiers go and we'll talk," the Courier said. "We're going to be right over there, watching while you do it."

The kid grabbed Boone by his wrist and led him over to a wall. They sat down next to it. Lighting another cigarette, the kid turned his attention towards Boone. "You're bleeding."

The Khans across the street vanished into the building where they were hiding.

"Yeah. Part of getting shoved into the street, I guess."

The two watched as Jessup shoved one of the NCR soldiers so hard he toppled onto the ground, almost certainly skinning his palms.

"The better I get to know men, the more I find myself loving robots," the kid muttered, rubbing the powder on Boone's split-open cheek. Boone hissed as the healing powder dug into the cut, knitting his skin back together. He hadn't used it before. The NCR preferred more scientific remedies like Stimpaks or good old-fashioned time, which healed all wounds.

One of the Khans jeered at the limping soldier, and he turned back to shoot them a glare.

But even with their injuries, the two men were relinquished back to where they came from relatively unharmed. No weapons had been drawn - well, at least with any intention to shoot. The Khans kept up their end of the bargain. And the more Boone thought about it as the healing powder's burn subsided, the less he trusted the NCR to keep theirs, too.

"We could probably slip out," the kid said suddenly. "I bet they wouldn't notice. Keep pushing onwards."

Back in his days in the First Recon, Boone would have taken that out without a second thought. Not his fight. He and Manny both shared that belief, and it had saved them loads of bullets when patrolling the wastes. Why waste ammunition on dumb teenagers in a gunfight when they'll just go get themselves killed a few hours later anyway?

But one of the Khans turned towards the two of them, and just for a second, he got a flash of dark hair and dark eyes that looked panicked at the red beret. He remembered. He was young, and it had been a few years, and he remembered. He had to have. Most of the Khans that weren't there looked at him with disgust, or disdain, not fear.

"Hey, Boone?"

"Yeah?"

"What was that guy talking about back there? About the… genocide?" What he said was genocide, but what he meant was killing kids, of course.

Where's my mommy?

Fucking murderer.

He bit back the urge to tell the kid to drop it, squeezed his eyes shut for just a moment to quiet his racing thoughts. It wasn't any of his business. But the only reason he was so angry… was because the kid was right. The Khans were right. The stupid drunk woman at the Outpost was right. Even the constant, nagging voice in the back of his head was right. He was a murderer.

"I don't want to talk about it," Boone insisted. "But… I think we should help them. The Khans. We should go to Red Rock."