Hope you guys like it, I know my writings leave a lot of questions but I have a plan just have some faith. Brownie points to whoever got that reference :) please review civilly so I can do better.
Sometimes he had this dream.
He didn't stay in the Rangers, neither of them did. He married her, like she wanted so badly, and like he'd promised.
He built a life with her, and a family. A ranch bustling with the laughter of kids, each a spitting image of one parent or the other.
Their time in service was a dinner conversation, or a topic for one of their kids on a written assignment.
He grew old and slow.
It was perfect.
And then he woke up.
It wasn't for him, it'd never be for him.
The former Ranger sat up and untangled himself from the limbs he'd found himself covered with. As silently as he could he dressed, a tad disappointed in himself for going way farther than he agreed to.
Shane pulled his boots on and sighed, glancing at the nude woman asleep in the bed.
He spared her a glance, she would never hear him say it, but he was fond of her in a way.
She'd be pissed when she woke up, but whenever they did this he was gone by morning.
He couldn't get attached, he couldn't open himself like that.
Nix has given him a name, Stefan Hurst.
Local arms dealer, chem pusher and slaver.
In about a day or two, he'd be the next dead man.
Shane shut the door with a soft click and stepped over the drunk and glanced at the now spotless floor. The three dead men were absent, he didn't have a clue about what the barkeep did with them.
He found he didn't care.
Out the shutter doors and into the desert he went, thankfully his eyes were spared the glaring sun from beneath his visor.
The former Ranger knew where he needed to go, it was quite a walk from his current location and if he wanted to find her it needed to be fast.
His steady pace was filled with his thinking, once he got all the information he needed the rest would hopefully be simple.
He withdrew the photograph of Hannah and his heart ached.
She was young, too young, but when had those kind of people ever spared the young.
His own sister hadn't even been half Hannah's age when she was sold.
"Sell them separate. And sell them cheap." A voice cackled in his mind.
People say if you seek revenge you need to dig two graves.
Shane found that concept laughable, here he was still alive.
Focus.
He shook his head and came back to the present.
Today was full of memories that Shane preferred buried, of a younger brother and sister he was supposed to look out for.
They were ghosts now, a constant scar upon his psyche.
Maybe he was a ghost too, some days he felt like he was.
Ever since he got shot in the head he felt slower, sluggish. His body was a mess it was true but never like how he felt most days.
Fights that should've been child's play to him were suddenly a hazard. He didn't win unless he had the absolute tactical advantage.
He despised this feeling, he felt weak, vulnerable.
But he had to succeed, he was not obsolete, he was still the best. If he didn't have anybody to live for anymore, he could at least live for that.
The former Ranger connected his camelbak hose to his helmet and drank, contemplating how he would take his next target. He had his M16 and more than enough ammunition, two .45 caliber pistols, and his Sequoia on his hip.
Luckily home was on the way, he could restock on what he needed and grab more appropriate armament.
But it was after his eighth mile he knew he was being followed.
He did not alter his pace, and gave no indication he even knew he was being followed.
The Ranger's helmet counted at least five hostiles to his six.
On flat ground with the rifle he had? This was cake. But if they were armed for war with better than what he had?
This would indeed be difficult.
Shane's instincts screamed at him to hit the dirt, if he was fast enough he could drop and get set, he figured if they were capable of long range they'd of done it by now.
He allowed the distance to close, and in a fluid motion he turned and assumed a rock solid shooters stance.
What he saw through his scope was disappointed him.
"God dammit." He whispered.
Nix.
Whistling a jolly tune, tossing the bag of caps he'd given her and holding a device he didn't know the function of.
"What the fuck?" He snarled.
She stopped a good few feet from him,
"Easy there Ranger." She chuckled,"I don't want to hurt you."
"I'm tracking six life signs. And here you are Nix, you got a crew scattered through here?" He demanded, rifle still leveled at her head.
"Wasn't hard to trick your sensors honey. Been working on ways to one up you. Serves you right for leaving a girl wanting morning seconds~." She smirked.
He still didn't lower the rifle.
"You have twenty seconds before a graze, if you don't scram after that it's lethal." He growled.
"Calm down cowboy, as much as a I love your deep dark voice I'm actually here for business not pleasure."
Reluctantly he finally lowered the rifle, the safety did not come back on.
"What do you want?" He asked exasperated.
"You know I find it interesting that this pouch..." She gave it another toss,"Has a very familiar E on it."
The woman began to pace in front of him, back and forth with a lazy smile.
"I know I've seen it before, so you'll have to imagine my surprise when I saw it on my favorite kind of tequila." She said evenly.
Shane said nothing.
"Now I started to think, why would Shane Walsh, a man who *hates* tequila have such a hefty souvenir from the best kind you can get?" She frowned, feigning thought with a finger on her chin.
"Either you've turned a new leaf on my favorite booze, *or* the Eberly family hired you." She pointed an accusing finger.
Shane thumbed the safety and slung his rifle, there wasn't really any fighting this.
"Did I walk out for miles after your fine ass to hear you finally like what I drink or that I'm right?" She glared pocketing the pouch and crossing her arms.
The only sound was the desert breeze as Shane stared Nix down.
"You're right." Shane ground out.
She hollered and bounced on the balls of her feet.
"Did you come all this way to tell me you were right then?" Shane asked.
He was hoping Nix's impulsiveness would prove that she only wanted to best him somehow, then be on her merry way.
"Oh hell no, I want in."
Dammit.
"Not happening." He rumbled with finality.
She scoffed and bolted to his front when he turned to leave.
"Oh c'mon Shane! I need the work." She plead but Shane pushed past her.
"Then go find some." He growled, "Because I don't need you."
He left her alone in the middle of the desert, fuming as she picked up a rock and threw it at his head.
He sidestepped, and heard a colorful string of curses.
The Ex-Ranger ignored all the jabs that came from Nix's colorful arsenal and did not look back.
Hours passed and miles went with him, out of boredom and out of hunger he shot down some Molerat. Their stringy meat sufficed when he hadn't eaten anything in awhile.
It was only after bagging his kill that Shane worked his way up into a rock formation, and set to making his camp.
It was an old spot he used frequently, a small canyon cut into a plateau. One way in and one way out. The interior was narrow enough, and covered with large rocks that made excellent cover.
His favorite feature however was the fact the sky was still open above him.
Rotten wood and sticks made a sufficient campfire, the ashes from previous nights was still there.
Home wasn't far, the Strip was another day away.
Shane sat at his fire, warming his bones in preparation for another long night in the desert.
If he had his way, he'd have at least a few mines set, and a claymore a few meters out. But the man hasn't expected to be out this long, not without all the equipment he knew he needed.
Stars glittered like diamonds as the Ex-Ranger ate, the fresh air was crisp without the filter of his helmet blocking it off.
Maybe if he was lucky, he'd sleep tonight.
If Stefan Hurst was important enough, Shane would already know about him. The fact he was an enigma either meant he was a little fish or really good at staying under the radar.
The former Ranger went with the latter, considering he had some high profile dudes under his thumb.
It'd been a long time since he'd dismantled an organization. He may be the reason for the Legion's crumbling state as of now, but he hardly did that alone.
Slave organizations were always a tricky business to tackle. They could be so disorganized that it was a chore at best, or they were so well structured he'd struggle with a decently formed strike team.
It was times like this that he missed the companions he'd made along the way.
Boone was with his old unit, wasting Legion and making the world a better place. He sorely missed the quiet sniper's company, he'd of been a welcome hand in this job.
He wished the gang was all here, but they were all on their own now. And the path he was on now, he needed to do alone.
They had helped the Courier.
They couldn't help Shane Walsh.
His mind drifted to fond memories of welcome company beneath similar starry nights. He smiled as he finished his meal, wiping the juices that stained his fingers onto his faded combats.
That rare smile died as the navy blue of the fading daylight reminded him of her eyes.
He sighed, and tried his damndest to banish the thoughts to oblivion.
The former Ranger knew his fire was more a danger than a comfort and quickly snuffed it out. He grabbed at his helmet and snapped it on, the heads up display coming to life within seconds.
He reclined on the wall of the canyon and cradled his rifle, eyes heavy and sleep imminent. That is until his helmet chimed and he snapped awake. Five hostiles, closing in at a steady pace.
The former Ranger stood, dusted off his clothes and set down his rifle.
"God dammit Nix." He snarled.
He stomped to the entrance of his small hideaway, fully expecting the haughty woman to be standing there, demanding to accompany him.
That woman was such a nuisance when she tried, and she tried often. He knew she loved getting under his skin, and it wouldn't be the first time she'd woken him up to do it.
As he came to the mouth of the canyon, he froze.
It wasn't Nix.
Five personnel, all armed, all staring at him weapons leveled and ready.
Time slowed down, these men each carried something automatic, and at this range his armor would only take so much.
His hands tended, and the phantom agony of the bullet that had torn through both his palms reared again. He could make for his pistols, quick draw his revolver, do something.
Anything.
That accursed shot to the head had slowed him down, his mind went blank, and the only thing he knew to do was to say something aloud.
"Fuck."
Again, the man knew what it was like to be shot in the head.
He flew back from the force of it, the armor of his helmet had made the projectile glance off and scratch alongside.
Just like Benny's did against his skull.
His vision blurred, his bell was rung bad and he felt like vomiting but in a mad haze he frantically scrambled for cover.
Problem Solver was further inside, and Shane drew his .45's and thumbed the safeties off.
Gunfire kept him pinned, if he ran further in he risked breaking his cover.
'Stupid stupid! Goddamn greenhorn rookie mistake! Never let your guard down!' He thought, chastising himself.
"You chose the wrong business to fuck with!" One cried.
Shane's response was to send some rounds their way, a desperate move, but necessary to break their advantage.
He hit nothing but rock and air, his mind was still hazy from his narrowly avoided killshot.
The former Ranger knew he couldn't stay here, if he did he was dead. If they had so much as one frag he was screwed.
He changed mags, and readied himself. If they aimed center mass his plates would take the worst of it, but he made piece with the fact he was going to get shot today.
Walsh broke cover, diving to the side and diverting their focus. Their rifles did not transition quickly enough before his pistols zeroed in on them.
The fire from his guns held akimbo dropped two immediately. The fat .45 ACP hollows ripping through tissue with ease.
He came up to his feet while firing into their throng, his M1911's booming against the cave walls.
Two of them, one gut shot and screaming at the gaping holes through his stomach and back. The other was dead before she hit the ground, her spine severed by the rounds Shane loaded.
"Motherfucker!" One cried as he raised his rifle, firing back at the Ranger.
Shane was not as fast as he used to be, and the man had brought his rifle to bear faster than the former Ranger could with his pistols.
The all too familiar sensation of rounds slamming into his armor greeted Shane once more. His armor cracked, and he hit the ground, the air had been knocked right out of his lungs and the .45's from his hands.
He lay supine on the sand, before a boot was planted on his chest and a rifle leveled at his visor.
The man hefted his rifle and began to bludgeon the Ranger's helmeted head with his buttstock.
His instincts screamed fight back, but his mind was a hazy mess after he was hit for the fifth time. And the man did not stop until the visor of his helmet was cracked and Shane had no desire to fight back anymore.
"Badass Ranger my ass..." The man growled.
This is how his legend ends.
A broken man, laying on his back, an AK held between his eyes.
Whatever was coming he was ready.
He just hoped she would be on the other side, waiting for him after all these years. He shut his eyes and imagined her then, ethereal and beautiful, like an angel should be.
When Shane was still in uniform, he heard a legend that you don't hear the bullet that kills you.
So why did he hear one now?
Blood spattered down onto his visor and armor and the man above him collapsed onto his chest, a hole through his skull. The force of impact snapped Shane from his trance and shoved the corpse off of himself.
Sluggishly he groped for his pistols.
Nix moved in, her own night vision on, a pistol in one hand and her knife in the other. The blade found itself buried into the neck of the one on Shane's right.
Before the other man could react to this new assailant, she used her blade to fling her now dead target into the last remaining live one. The cadaver stunted the man long enough for Nix to smoothly plant two rounds in his heart and one in his head.
"Luckily no rear security." She mused as she wiped her blade off on her leg.
She glanced toward Shane and sighed as she advanced on him.
He stumbled and fell to his knees, the world felt heavy and his vision was fading fast.
"That's why you need me cowboy." She jested as she knelt next to him.
It was all Shane heard before he blacked out.