Hey, all! I'm back! So sorry for the long, long, long delay. As it was for many, 2020 was a tough year for me personally, but I never forgot this story.

***Since it has been so long, I wrote up a summary of each of the previous chapters (1-32) so you don't have to read the entire fic again if you have forgotten some plot points. You can find that posted as its own chapter after this one.**

Chapter summary: The companions return to Vegas. While Veronica explores the Strip, an unexpected letter makes Beth question herself. She and Boone make up after their disagreement at the 188.

Chapter 33: I Can't Get Started

Beth led a wide-eyed Veronica through the New Vegas gate and onto the Strip with Boone trailing behind. The glittering lights were impressive in the dim of the early evening. Veronica's awe gave the place a fresh perspective.

"This is amazing!" the scribe exclaimed over the big band music blaring from Gomorrah. "I've seen it from a distance, but it's so much...more up close."

"It's something," Beth remarked. "As far as I've seen, there's no place else like it in the world." No where else did they have both the means and desire to shield themselves from the bombs. But even beyond that, Mr. House had insisted that there was no place like Vegas, even before the War.

Beth waved for them to follow her. "Come on, let's get inside and get cleaned up. Then we can get you something nice to wear, Veronica."

The scribe beamed with excitement and hurriedly followed. Boone trudged along behind, looking tired and much less excited than their companion.

"You sure you won't join me?" the scribe asked Beth. "The Strip looks like a lot of fun."

"Nah, I'm pretty tired," Beth answered. "But I'm sure you'll have fun."

It had been several days since she and Boone had any time alone. They hadn't had a chance to talk about what happened between them at the 188.

The inside of the Lucky 38 was the same as when they'd left. The place was vacant, except for the securitrons standing guard.

"This place is kind of spooky, all empty like this," Veronica said.

"At first, maybe," Beth responded. "You get used to it."

"Nice and cold in here, though." The scribe gave a little shiver for emphasis.

"Yes, it is refreshing after a long walk in the desert." The cool air felt nice, and she finally would stop sweating. She looked forward to washing the sweat and grime off her, changing into clean clothes, and falling asleep between clean sheets. Maybe some things about Vegas were starting to feel like home. It was certainly the safest place in the Mojave.

Veronica crept toward one of the securitrons and visually examined it. The bot didn't move or acknowledge her presence. "These are amazing."

"I'm heading up," Boone mumbled, pressing the elevator button. The doors opened promptly with a ding.

"Come on, Veronica," Beth said. "I want to put this pack down and kick off my boots."

"Right," she replied, following them into the elevator. Boone pushed the button for the suite and the elevator rose with a mechanical whir. Inside, she continued to eye things with interest. "Is it true that no one has been in here since the War?"

"As far as I know."

"Pretty wild that House picked you, huh? And now he just lets you bring anyone in here?"

"I guess." Beth shrugged. Veronica knew a little about Beth's past, but not about the things that made House decide to invite her in. She wondered if he would have let Benny in here eventually. If the Chairman hadn't betrayed him, that is.

"Those bots are amazing. I'd love to take one apart and see how it works."

"I don't think House would like that."

"I know. Don't worry, I'm not going to try. I'm just curious. RobCo sold a lot of bots before the war. Protectrons, Mr. Handys, what have you, but he never sold those to the public. Yet he uses them exclusively to protect Vegas. They must be special somehow."

"He's very attached to them.," Beth said with a shrug. She knew they were special. She'd seen their capabilities first-hand, but wasn't sure how much she should tell Veronica.

When they arrived in the suite at the Lucky 38, Beth and Veronica went to the bedroom to find something for the scribe to wear. The Courier pulled out dresses from the closet and laid them out on the bed as Veronica looked over them in awe, her fingers delicately running over the fabrics.

"Are all these yours?" the scribe asked.

Beth shook her head adamantly, tossing another dress onto the pile. "Uh, no. I honestly don't know why they're here. Either they were left by the last people to use the suite before the War or House had them put here for me, thinking I'd need them, for some reason."

"They're all so pretty. And they look new."

"Yeah, this place is pretty well-preserved."

"You sure Mr. House won't mind me borrowing one? I don't want to get you in trouble."

"It's not like he's going to wear them."

Veronica snorted a laugh. "Fair enough."

"Besides, pissing off Mr. House is the least of my worries." After he backed down concerning the Brotherhood, Beth was more confident in her position with him than ever.

"Oh!" Veronica squealed, picking up a maroon dress with a scoop-necked collar. "Look at this one!" She held it up to herself. "What do you think?"
"I think the color suits you. Why don't you try it on?" Beth closed the door so the scribe could change and helped her zip up the dress.

"How do I look?" she asked, twirling around, the dark red dress flaring out around her to show her knees. She giggled. "Ah! I've always wanted to do that!" She twirled around again.

"You look beautiful, Veronica," Beth said sincerely. Out of her drab, bulky robes, the scribe had a lovely figure. Her face glowed with joy. "It looks like it was made for you."

"Thank you!" She beamed. "I can't wait to get down to the Strip and see what I've been missing. You sure you won't join me?"

"Thanks, but Boone and I are still pretty tired. Anyway, we've seen the Strip and are kind of over it." That was true, but she also knew she and Boone needed some time alone.

"'Tired.' Sure." She winked with a smirk. "I'll be sure to be quiet when I come back. Wouldn't want to disturb your rest."

"Put your eyebrows down, Veronica."

She laughed. "Sorry. But seriously, you guys should spend some time alone without me hanging around. I know what it's like to not get much privacy." She picked out a small handbag, packing it with caps and a pair of brass knuckles Beth had given her, since her preferred weapon would not be allowed in the casinos. "Anyway, I'm off. Don't wait up!"

"Just be careful out there. And watch your drink."

"I will, mom." She laughed again. "I promise. Don't worry, I can punch pretty hard, even without my ballistic fist."

When the doors to the elevator closed behind the scribe, Beth turned back to the bedroom to put the unused dresses away.

On the desk was a stack of folded papers that she hadn't seen before. Picking one up, she saw it was a letter addressed to the Courier. "How odd," she thought.

Boone was relieved when Beth said she wasn't going to join Veronica on the Strip. All he wanted was to clear the tension between them and get back to how things were before. She had tried to act cheery around the scribe, but he could tell she was still upset, although he didn't know if it was just about Arcade or about their argument at the 188. Probably both.

He heard Veronica's voice in the entryway, followed by the ding of the elevator. He set down the book he hadn't really been paying attention to and went to find Beth.

The master bedroom was a mess with clothes and other belongings strewn around. Beth was sitting on the bed reading some papers in her hands.

"Veronica left for the Strip," she said without looking up.

"I heard," he replied. "What are you reading?"

"I found some letters on the desk. Look, at this one. Remember that family we freed back at Cottonwood Cove? The mom with her two kids?"

"Yeah, of course." He'd never forget them.

"They made it safely to the Followers and wanted to thank us."

She handed him the letter. Glancing at it, he noticed that it was only addressed to Beth. Or rather, it was addressed to "The Courier." Not that he cared; he preferred that people didn't pay attention to him. Seeing the look on Beth's face, he couldn't help but smile. It was the happiest he'd seen her in more than a week. "I'm glad they're safe. We did good."

"Yeah, we did, didn't we?" She grinned at him. Going through the letters, she read bits out loud while he started to hang the clothes back in the closet. "Hey, you don't have to do that. I can clean those up."

"Nah, it's fine. You keep reading. I'm listening." He didn't mind putting things away and the letters were making her happy. Besides, he knew her idea of cleaning up would be to pile them onto the couch.

"If you insist." She shrugged. "This one's from Troike. You know, that poor bastard from Gomorrah." He nodded. "He's gone to the Followers, too. It sounds like he's doing well."

"That's good."

Setting the letter down, she unfolded the next one. "Oh, wow."

"What?"

"This one's from a woman named Lana. She was one of the slaves at Fortification Hill."

As Boone picked up a pale blue dress, he thought of a woman with wavy blonde hair, olive skin, and deep brown eyes. They'd saved all these people, why couldn't she have been one of them?

"Boone?"

"Huh?" He'd gotten lost in his own thoughts and hadn't been listening to what she was saying.

"Are you okay? You've been staring at that dress."

Shaking the thoughts from his head, he hung the dress up and closed the closet door. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just thinking. Keep reading."

She opened the next letter, but didn't say anything. Looking at her, her face was frozen in a stern expression.

He waited a few moments before asking, "Beth? What is it?" He sat down next to her and she shoved the letter into his hands.

"Why can't he just leave me the fuck alone?!" she growled, her voice breaking.

Unlike the others, this letter addressed her by name, instead of "Courier." Boone didn't need to read very far to figure out who it was from.

Dear Beth,

I've re-written this letter at least a dozen times. I'm probably the last person you want to hear from, and I know it's selfish, but I can't leave things like they were the last time we saw each other.

First, I want to say how very sorry I am for lying to you for so long and then ambushing you with my secret like I did. The only thing I can say is that it's something I've never told anyone before, and I didn't know how to say it.

It isn't that I didn't trust you. My only motivation in keeping it from you was to protect myself and my family. Mostly my family. After my father was killed, they looked after me and my mother. They kept us safe when we had to flee our home in the middle of the night. Even though it put them at risk, they stayed with us. When my mother passed, they were there for me. I owe them more than I could ever repay.

I don't offer this as an excuse, but as an explanation.

I also wanted to keep the burden off of you and give you plausible deniability should I be found out. I never wanted to deceive you or cause you pain. I told you when I did because I genuinely feared for your safety, as well as my own. I had no idea you would react as you did. I could say how many times I wanted to tell you the truth, especially over the last couple of months as we've grown closer, and how horribly I felt about lying to you, but I know that doesn't change anything. You have every right to be angry. In your place, I probably would be, too.

I can only imagine what your history with them is, but had I known you had one, I never would have gotten close to you—but I did. I care about you very much and consider you one of my dearest friends. I feel a kinship with you I haven't felt with many people. I miss working together. I miss our friendship. I miss you.

I have no right to ask, but is there any way we could talk?

If you don't respond, I understand. I will respect that, and this will be the last you hear from me.

Sincerely,

Arcade

"Shit," Boone said when he finished reading. "What are you going to do?"

"What do you mean 'what am I going to do'? This doesn't change anything. He's still one of them and he still lied about it. This is just bullshit manipulation. Asshole couldn't even use the word 'Enclave.'"

"He's too smart for that."

"What do you mean? Seems pretty cowardly to me."

"The NCR and the Brotherhood are still tracking down remnants of the Enclave. Even if he is too young to have fought in the war, he's not going to write a confession."

"Whatever. I don't care." Taking the letter from him, she crumpled it up and threw it into the trash can by the desk.

She clearly did care, or it wouldn't bother her so much, but he wasn't going to say that. What she meant was that she didn't want to care and it didn't matter what he said. Although the situation was different, Boone felt the same way about Manny.

"It's almost dinner time. Let's see what's in the kitchen."

"I'm not hungry."

The other letters had made her so happy, but now she looked like she had at the 188. "You've hardly eaten today." Actually, she hadn't eaten much in the last few days. Some people ate their feelings; Beth seemed to starve hers. "Come on." He held out his hand, which she reluctantly took and followed him to the kitchen.

Beth picked at her food with her fork, having only taken a couple of bites. Reading the letter had made her feel sick to her stomach again. If Boone hadn't been there, she wouldn't have eaten anything at all, but he was watching her closely, looking concerned. She forced herself to take another bite.

"I'm sorry about everything between us lately," she said abruptly, not sure how to start the conversation. "I've been...I know you've been worried about me."

"Yeah."

"And we haven't been able to talk much for the last few days. I've been doing a lot of thinking." She took his hand and looked in his eyes. "I wanted to say I'm sorry for how I reacted back at the 188. I know you meant well and I shouldn't have gotten so pissed off at you. I was upset about other things and I took it out on you."

"It's okay."

"No, it isn't. You deserve better than that from me."

Boone put his other hand over hers and gave it a squeeze. "Okay, I appreciate that. And I forgive you."

"Thank you."

"I know a little about what you're going through, after the shit that went down with Manny."

She nodded.

"It's not the exact same thing, but I do know what it's like to feel betrayed by someone you thought was a friend. He didn't do what I thought he did, but he did enough and I can't look at him the same after that."

"Yeah, that's close to it. Even if he wasn't involved in all that stuff back east, he's still one of them. How can I ever trust him?"

"You don't have to, but I hope you know you can trust me."

She nodded again. "I know I can." He'd proven himself to her plenty of times. It was more that she didn't quite trust herself right now. "Just...could you not lie to me, even to spare my feelings?"

He sighed. "I'll try. I just hate seeing you like this."

"Lying hurts more than even a harsh truth."

"I'm starting to see that, but I wish I could do something to make all this easier for you."

"You do a lot, though. Just you being here, knowing you have my back means so much."

Boone leaned in toward her and kissed her gently. She reached up and cupped his cheek in her palm, returning the kiss.

Despite being tired from the road, Beth couldn't sleep. Sitting on the couch in the rec room, she re-read Arcade's letter for probably the tenth time. She should just throw it back in the trash and forget about it, she knew, but as much as she hated to admit it to herself, his words had gotten to her. She had felt that same kinship and had missed him, too.

Yet she questioned how she could know the letter was sincere, instead of more lies and manipulation. He had never mentioned any living family before. In fact, he didn't seem like someone who had any family; he always seemed so isolated and lonely. He had specifically said his parents were dead. Like Beth, he'd said he was an only child, but was that a lie, too? Or did he have uncles and aunts or cousins? Whoever they were, they would have to be at least a bit older than him to have protected him and his mother when he was a child.

Beth asked herself how she would have handled things differently in his place. If she still had family, she knew what lengths she would go to in order to protect them. She wondered if that would still be true if they had done truly horrible things, like what the Enclave had done. After all, Boone had done bad things, but she didn't believe he was a bad person. She would do almost anything to protect him. That was only because he was truly contrite, she assured herself. He had worked to redeem himself. Had Arcade's family done the same? Arcade's loyalties were with them, but where were theirs?

If they were here, that means they probably didn't go east with the others. Maybe there was a reason for that. He'd said they were "good people," but he hadn't said if they had renounced their allegiance to the Enclave-if he was trying to convince her to talk to him, it seems like he would have mentioned that. Or did he think it went without saying? It certainly didn't to her.

Whatever he said, it would be his word against everything she'd believed about them for nearly ten years. Everything she'd seen with her own eyes, everything she'd read in their databases, the physical and emotional scars she carried, it all pointed in the same direction. There was no room for any interpretation other than that the Enclave was evil.

Still, it was hard to reconcile in her mind what she knew personally about Arcade with his connection to the Enclave. He had chosen to become a doctor for the Followers, who were one of the most benevolent groups she had ever encountered in the Wasteland. Even though he mostly did research, he did help a lot of people. She'd seen it first-hand many times. At no point previously had she ever questioned his motivations or his dedication to his work. She'd never seen him be power-hungry or behave particularly selfishly. Although he was quite skilled with his plasma defender, she had only seen him use it in self-defense or defense of others. There were things she hadn't mentioned to him because she'd known they would have violated his personal moral code, such as executing Clanden and Jeannie May Crawford.

Until his confession, she had genuinely believed Arcade was a better person than she was. Now she didn't know what to believe.

If he had lied about something that was less personal to her, she knew it wouldn't have mattered so much. She wouldn't have cast him out. She probably wouldn't have even gotten angry. In fact, she'd known he'd been lying and omitting things about his personal details; it had been obvious, but she'd figured it wasn't her business.

If she were to give him a chance to explain himself, she couldn't help but feel she would be betraying her father. He had died so horribly trying to protect her, the others, and Project Purity from the Enclave. So many had died in the battle to get the purifier back so her parents' legacy could live on, and so the people of the Capital Wasteland could have free, clean water. Even if Arcade hadn't been involved, even if he and his family had been thousands of miles away, how could she just forget all of that? How could she forget the look in her father's eyes? How could she forget the pain when Colonel Autumn tortured her for information? How could she forget the monstrous thing President Eden asked her to do?

Right now, she didn't think she could. She had too much history to let go of and Arcade's loyalties were too questionable. It would be too much of a risk to trust him now.

Beth went back to the master bedroom, folded up the crumpled letter, and stuck it in her bag. Boone appeared to still be sleeping, so she crept back to the bed and slipped under the covers. After a few minutes, she fell into an uneasy sleep.