Chapter Summary: Tension seeps into Beth and Boone's companionship. Beth calls in a favor. With time to kill, she helps out one of the Followers.

Chapter 5: Return to Sender

Leaving early in the morning from the 188, Beth and Boone continued on toward New Vegas. Whereas the silence between them had previously been a content one, the end of their conversation the night before now made it tense. Instead of walking next to her, he trailed along behind. They had hardly even looked at each other all morning.

She was aware she had crossed an unspoken boundary, which had caused him to bite back with his own boundary-breaking question. If her dream had been one about leaving the vault or being ambushed by raiders, maybe him asking wouldn't have been so upsetting. Maybe she could have even told him about it. It had been one of the worst ones, though, one she could never let herself acknowledge out loud.

There had been little to be afraid of growing up in the vault, although she hadn't realized it at the time. Only outside did real fear exist. Only outside was her greatest fear developed: watching the person she loved most in the world die and being helpless do do anything about it. With practiced discipline, she could bury the memory deep when she was awake, but it still came to her in dreams.

No, not dreams. Nightmares.

There, the scene played out over and over again. Dad collapsed in unimaginable agony from the massive amount of radiation he purposefully unleashed. Her hands banged against the warming glass of the chamber and her fingers clawed at the door, desperately trying to open it to save him. The Geiger counter on her Pip-Boy ticked louder and faster. Hot tears streamed down her cheeks and she could taste bitter metal in the back of her throat. The dank, rusty air from the dirty water mixed with iron had the stench of blood.

"Run," he said in a weakened voice. "Run!"

Large ghoulified hands grabbed her upper arms to protectively drag her away. Through her tears, she looked into her father's deep blue eyes and begged for it all to stop.

All of it flooded into her thoughts so suddenly, she hadn't realized it until she felt the tears begin trickle down her cheeks. "Put it away!" she scolded herself silently, grateful that Boone was behind her and couldn't see.

Containing these dark thoughts was usually automatic, but since that night in Goodsprings, it had become increasingly difficult. It was more than the pain and the med-x, she knew. Those bullets had damaged some part of her brain that kept everything where it was supposed to be. Clay had also broken down more of her defenses, however unintentionally. A painful twinge gripped her insides at the thought that it was probably the last time he would see her and he'd never know what happened.

"Stop it!" Beth growled to herself internally. She had to regain control of her thoughts or she was going to break down-she would not let her companion see that.

"Focus! Get to Benny. Focus on Benny."

As they walked, the heavy silence between her and Boone grated on her. It was distracting. She abruptly stopped and turned around to face him. "I'm sorry, okay?" she said. It came out more frustrated than remorseful.

"Okay," he said, flatly.

"I won't ask any more personal questions. You want to talk, it's up to you."

"Okay."

She grunted in annoyance at his repeated one-word replies. "If you don't want to travel with me anymore..."

"I didn't say that," he responded in a softer tone. "If you don't want me to..."

"I didn't say that." They stared at each other for a long minute before she turned around and kept walking. He followed behind again, but a little closer than before.

Boone had passed through Freeside many times on his way between Camp Golf and the Strip, but had always gotten through as quickly as possible, particularly when Carla was with him. The junkies looking to knife unsuspecting tourists for their caps didn't exactly make the place inviting. Beth, on the other hand, walked through like she had lived here all her life. Or did she always walk like that?

Suddenly, she dropped her pack and started rummaging through it. "Fuck!" she spat, rubbing her forehead with a wince.

"What?"

"Benny must have taken my passport. Bastard probably altered it so he could get back onto the Strip without anyone knowing about it." She stood back up and hoisted her pack. "You still got your NCR passport?" she asked.

He shook his head. "Expired. I guess we need 4,000 caps, if you still want me to come along."

She narrowed her eyes thoughtfully. "Actually, I know someone who owes me a favor.

Up the street, she strolled into the King's School of Impersonation with Boone hesitantly trailing behind her. Inside, there were several men dressed in jeans and white t-shirts, with their dark hair slicked back. He had always wondered why they dressed like that, so unlike any other tribe or gang he'd seen before. There was something strangely old-world about the whole set up.

As Beth headed into the next room, one of the men stopped her before she could go through the door. He wore a black leather jacket and entirely too much cologne. "Hey, sweet thing. Don't you know you have to pay the toll?" he said with a wink and a cocky grin. Boone wasn't sure if he meant money or something else, but either way, he didn't like his tone.

She lightly shoved him aside with a sneer. "Fuck off, Pacer," she said with contempt, moving past him into the next room.

It was apparent that the man had a come-back, most likely a vulgar one, but seemed to think better of it after taking a look at the burly soldier scowling at him. Even though Boone was still annoyed with the Courier, he wasn't going to tolerate this guy disrespecting her. As he walked by, the man whispered to him, "Watch yourself with that one," but he got no reaction.

In the next room, there were several tables and a stage where one of the kings was practicing a song Boone had never heard before. Beth walked over to a table up front where a man in a white dinner jacket sat watching the performance, a cyber dog laying at his feet.

Looking up at her, he gave a crooked smile. "Why, Ms. Evans. It's been too long," the man said, with casual familiarity, despite the formality of his address. He had a strange way of speaking, slow and sultry with a peculiar accent. Gesturing toward the chair next to him, he invited her to sit down and she accepted.

The dog sat up and nudged her with his nose until she started scratching him behind his brain case. His tongue lolled out happily as he panted and wagged his tail. "Good to see you, too," she responded with a smile, though it was unclear if she was talking to the man or the dog.

"To what do I owe the pleasure? Not that you should need a reason to stop by."

"I need to call in that favor you owe me."

His eyebrow raised. "I see. And what could the King possibly do for you?"

"I need two passports to the Strip. For me and my friend here." She nodded toward Boone, who was now leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, expressionless behind his aviators.

"That shouldn't be a problem. After what you did for ole Rexy here, I'm happy to help you out. Head over to Mick and Ralph's. Tell Ralph that I sent you. Might take him a couple days, but he'll get you squared away."

"Thank you. I really appreciate it." She stood up.

"You don't gotta rush off, darlin'." He reached out and gently grasped her hand. "Stay for dinner and a show." His thumb stroked the back of her hand. "Or more. That's if your 'friend' here wouldn't mind." He didn't look at the sniper. His eyes were fixated on Beth, looking her up and down. Boone wished he'd waited outside.

Slowly pulling her hand away with an awkward smile, she took a step back. "No, I think it's best if we keep things strictly business. You understand. Again, I do appreciate the favor." She patted Rex on the head and moved toward the door.

"If you change your mind, you know where to find me," he said with a wink as she walked out the door.

Once they were out of earshot of the outside guard, she let out an exasperated breath. "Ugh, I hate when guys get clingy like that."

"I take it you two have 'history'?" Boone observed, with a raised eyebrow.

She scoffed, her thumb gesturing back toward the school. "No, he has 'history.' I had a couple weeks of fun, then suddenly he wants me to be his 'best girl.' Whatever the fuck that means." Rolling her eyes, she kept walking up the street.

"And that other guy? What's his name?"

"Pacer?!" she laughed, her face twisted in disgust. "Gah, no! Fucking jet head. I do have some standards." She glanced at her companion sideways for a moment, then at her Pip-Boy. "Eh, Ralph usually knocks off before now. We'll have to go in the morning." They kept walking until they reached the Atomic Wrangler. "Come on, I'll buy you dinner."

The next morning, they went to Mick and Ralph's shop to request the passports the King had promised. Ralph confirmed that he could get them, but it would take until the next day.

As they were walking back toward the Atomic Wrangler, she spotted an older man in ragged clothes sitting on the ground against one of the ruined buildings and went up to him. He looked pale and sick, his beard and clothing crusted with filth. Boone stood back and watched, wondering what she was doing. The strung-out vagrants of Freeside weren't usually people anyone paid any attention to unless they were coming at them with a weapon.

"Bill?" she asked.

"Oh, hey, Betty," the man greeted, peering up at her with bleary, reddened eyes.

"It's Beth."

"Right. Yeah."

"What the hell happened to you? Last I saw, you were with the Followers."

He scratched at his scraggly beard, but didn't answer.

"I thought you had your shit together. What would Julie say if she saw you like this?"

At that, he looked down at the ground. "Julie? She's the best. I love Julie," he slurred with a sniff. "She...she'd be real disappointed." Tears started welling up in his eyes.

"Ah, Bill." She crouched down, but didn't touch him or get too close. Boone didn't blame her, since it seemed that the man had fallen off the bathing wagon, as well. "Come on, man. Don't cry."

Bill rubbed at his eyes roughly with his dirty calloused hands. "I don't want to keep on like this...but I can't stop. Please don't tell Julie."

"Can't stop what? What have you been taking?"

"This stuff...whiskey Dixon has." He held up an almost empty bottle. "The regular stuff just don't do it. Without it, I get so sick..."

"Son of a bitch," she cursed under her breath as she stood up. Her face tight with rage, she stormed back up the street to Mick and Ralph's, where a shifty-looking man was standing outside.

"Dixon! I need to talk to you," she demanded.

"Okay, but make it quick. My schedule's a little full up," he responded with a smug smirk.

"Funny. What's going on with Bill Ronte? He says you've been supplying him with some kind of special booze."

He laughed. "Yeah, girl. He can't get enough of my shit."

"That so? Well, I think it's time to cut him off."

"And why would I do that?"

"Because I asked you to. And you don't want to fuck with me." She took a step toward him and stared him down. Boone wondered if she would be as bold if he wasn't standing right behind her.

"What? Little miss friend of the Followers gonna kill me right in the middle of the street?" He laughed again.

"No, I'll make sure word gets around that the NCR has been supplying you with cheap chems to keep the citizens of Freeside strung out."
The dealer's eyes narrowed. "That's a lie!"

Crossing her arms, she sneered at him. "Who are people going to believe? Me or a scumbag chem dealer? You'll be lucky to scrape a living selling iguana bits by the gate."

With a grunt, he relented. "Fine! He's cut off."

Satisfied, she gave him a sweet smile and stepped back. "Always a pleasure, Dixon. Have a nice day."

"Fuck off, cun-"

Before he could finish the last word, Boone had him pinned against the wall, knocking the air from his lungs. His forearm pressed high on the dealer's chest, nearly to his throat. The sniper's eyes were hidden behind his aviators, but his mouth scowled in fury mere inches from the other man's face. "What did you say to her?" he growled.

Both Dixon and Beth's eyes were wide in surprise. The dealer tried to catch his breath as he responded, "Nu...nothing."

"Apologize."

Without moving his head, his eyes turned to look at the Courier. "Sorry. I'm sorry."

Boone pulled his arm away, but didn't relax his expression. "Watch your mouth." With that, he and Beth walked back the way they came, leaving the dealer visibly shaken.

When they were out of earshot, she asked calmly, "What was that back there?"

"What? I'm not going to let some chem-slinging lowlife talk to you like that."

She stopped walking and turned to look up at him. "I'd appreciate if you didn't do that again."

He gave a baffled scoff. "So I'm supposed to stand by while he calls you...that word."

"Yeah, that's exactly what you're supposed to do. Listen, Boone, I appreciate you watching my back, but I don't need you to protect my feelings. I don't care what he says. It doesn't matter. Guys like Dixon, they're all talk. The guy who's telling me to fuck off to my face isn't the one I'm worrying about stabbing me in the back. So no more protective 'tough guy' act. Got it?"

"Fine," he grunted. He didn't know why he cared so much anyway.

"Thank you."

"Would you really have spread lies about the NCR trying to fuck up Freeside?" he asked.

"No. But he didn't know that."

They returned to the alley near the Atomic Wrangler where they found Bill still sitting slumped against the wall. Beth addressed him sternly, "Sorry, Bill, but Dixon isn't going to sell to you anymore."

"What? What did you do?!" he demanded.

"It doesn't matter. You're cut off. Time to get your shit together."

He stood up on shaky legs. "I'm gonna die without a fix."

"No, you won't," she assured him. "Let's get you back to the Followers. They can help you."

Backing away from her, he shook his head. "No. I don't want Julie to see me like this."

"She's seen worse, I'm sure. She's going to be glad you're getting clean. The Followers need you. Come on."

He wrinkled his face defiantly. "No!"

"How's Julie going to feel if you die here on the street? Guilty. That's how. She'll feel guilty that you didn't trust her enough to ask for help. Swallow your pride." Beth bit her lip and sighed. "Please, Bill."

He hung his head for a moment, then nodded.

Late that night, the companions ate dinner by the fire at the Old Mormon Fort. Beth looked thoughtful as she picked at the food on her plate and looked around at the darkened camp. "This is the way things should be. People helping other people. Freeside could be so much better than it is. A friend of mine once said the world was like glass. It was broken in the war and people try to put it back together like it was, yet it will never go back together in the same way. But it can be made into something else, something better. I think that's what they're doing here. The Followers. Not trying to remake what was—instead trying to make something new and good out of the wreckage. That's what the world needs more of. Making good out of what we have, not just making due with what's left over. People need to stop mourning the old world."

She wondered how things could have been different if there had been a group like this back in the Capital Wasteland. Maybe she could have become a doctor like she was supposed to. Maybe her father would still be alive. Maybe everything would have been different.

Boone listened silently, seemingly lost in his own thoughts. Things between them still felt tense and she wished she knew how to fix it.

"I would have liked to have met your friend," a voice came out of the dark. "Sounds like they have some interesting perspectives on things."

"Hey, Arcade," she greeted, recognizing his voice before she saw him. "Yeah, Moira's one of a kind."

"Where is she now?" asked the doctor.

"Back home safe, I hope. Still running her shop. Experimenting and writing. Ever hear of the Wasteland Survival Guide?"

He nodded. "Yeah. Strange book. Little all over the place, but oddly insightful at points."

"Well, she wrote it, so there you go. Anyway, it's good to see you. How's your research going?"

"Slowly." Looking over at the sniper with a raised eyebrow, he asked, "Who's your friend?"

"Oh, sorry. This is Boone. Boone, this is Doctor Arcade Gannon. He's a researcher here with the Followers."

Arcade stuck out his hand and it stayed there for a couple of awkward seconds before the other man took it in a firm shake. "Nice to meet you. Is Boone your last name or your first?"

"Last," the sniper said. "First name's Craig."

The Courier thought a moment, trying to remember if she had known that. It seemed like everyone just called him "Boone" and she hadn't really questioned it. She had known a lot of people who only had one name.

After a few moments of awkward silence, the doctor spoke up again, "Anyway, I should get some sleep. It's been a long day. If you're still around in the morning, we can catch up."

"Sorry," Beth responded. "We have to leave early. I have some business on the Strip."

"Well, then, next time. Good night. Again, nice meeting you, Craig." With a nod, he walked away and into one of the tents.

Turning to see the questioning look on her companions' face, Beth smirked. "Before you ask, no, I don't have 'history' with him. I'm not his type." Even if she were, he reminded her too much of her father: an idealistic doctor working to benefit the people of the Wasteland. From what she could remember, they also looked quite a bit alike. She had noticed it from the first moment she met him almost three years ago.

Arcade seemed to have secrets, too. She recognized them now, the signs she had missed with Dad: the skirting around subjects, the vague references, the deflections. The lies. The difference was that Arcade's secrets didn't have anything to do with her and he was welcome to keep them.

"Hey, uh..." Boone spoke up. "Sorry for that shit back there this afternoon."

It was unexpected, but she was glad he said it and she gave him a small smile. "Don't worry about it. Things have been a bit...intense lately. Let's just forget it happened."

He nodded. "Okay."

At that, they both seemed more relaxed.

Despite what she had said earlier, she was internally conflicted about his protective display. She wasn't really sure what to make of Boone at all. He was so closed-off with his emotions, yet one comment from a random Freeside dealer and he pounced like his own mother was insulted. It was unexpected. She was ashamed that part of her found it a little attractive, in a primal sort of way.

Quickly, she pushed away the notion. Tomorrow, she would take care of Benny and that's what she needed to focus on. Everything else was just a distraction.