A while ago I played through New Vegas again, and it inspired me to write. Now, after reading through it and doing some edits I felt like posting it and sharing. So here it is! The first one shot of many I plan to throw up on here to share about my Courier and the different points of his life in the Mojave and maybe even before! Let me know what you think, and if there's any specific questlines/things you'd like to see! Feedback is very welcome!
The desert sands were something that, no matter how much you convinced yourself you did, you never really got used to. The constant dust, the grains in all your clothes that you barely understand how they even got there, and the damn heat of it all.
He had to admit. Sometimes the Mojave DID make him wish for a nuclear winter.
That's not even mentioning the crazy wildlife, warring factions, raider gangs, and all the other messed up shit he had to deal with on a daily basis.
But despite all that, despite all its glaring flaws and constant problems, the Mojave had become a sort of home to him. An insane, dangerous, violent, corrupt home that had wormed its way into his heart in a way he hadn't thought possible.
Thing is, Riley Hawke didn't know what to do with home. He'd never had one. From the caravans he'd stuck around with as a kid because whoever had felt like fucking to conceive him hadn't bothered to keep him, to the days he spent running around the west of America as a courier, making just enough between jobs to keep himself alive.
Hoover Dam was approaching. It'd be any day now. He'd done everything he could, set up his version of Vegas, a FREE Vegas, as best he could. Made alliances with every single minor faction in the Mojave, powered up his Securitron army to the maximum. All there was left to do was wait.
Which had led him back here. Where it all began. Where Benny had shot him in the head, back when he'd been a pawn in a much larger game. Where he'd been dug out of the grave by Victor, who probably cared more about the Platinum Chip than himself.
Where Doc Mitchell, Sunny Smiles, Trudy, and Easy Pete had shown an angry kid that there was more to life than surviving for himself.
He'd heard her approach before she'd even made it halfway up the hill. Perks of being practically a quarter machine with all the implants built in by the Vegas Clinic and the Big MT. He didn't respond, didn't even move as she walked up behind him, eyes firmly locked on the grave below his feet.
The typically rosy voice of Sunny Smiles broke the silence. "Didn't expect to find ya here. Don't you have a battle to prepare for?"
Seems even Goodsprings could feel the tension in the air. "Where's Cheyenne? From what I remember, you two are attached at the hip."
She chuckled. "Asleep. Like normal folk at this time of night. But, not you."
His lips quirked upwards in a small grin, just about the best he had to give right now. "Haven't you learned by now I'm not like normal folk?"
"Fair enough, Mr. Courier," she teased. The two fell into a comfortable silence. "So, wanna tell me what's got you back here brooding?"
"I'm not brooding," he said defensively.
"Oh, of course not. So, what do you call you glaring into the dirt lookin like there's a rain cloud hoverin solely around ya?"
"I…" shaking his head, he chose instead not to reply, trying to pry his eyes from the grave. But he couldn't. "This is where it all began. Where all this started. Where things changed for me. It felt…right, to stop here before the end. Full circle, and all that cliché bullshit."
"Never took you for the sentimental type," Sunny spoke cautiously, some of the brightness in her voice dim, as if she wanted to say something but was afraid of his response. Taking a deep breath, she continued. "And, no offense, but ya look like shit. Riley, talk to me. Ya can't walk into the battle of your life with that stuff on your chest."
She was right. He hated when she was right. She'd told him the same thing before the gunfight in Goodsprings to protect Ringo, after all.
The waiting had been the worst part. The three of them sat, cramped in Ringo's hideout, just…sitting there. Until Ringo pulled out a deck of cards, and the three had set about a caravan tournament. Sure, he'd had no idea how to play, but he was a fast learner and Sunny had been a good teacher.
Looking back, that's probably when he'd decided how he felt about her. But…he was angry. Vengeful. And stubborn. He'd shut up after they finished, and she'd tried to coax him into talking then. It hadn't worked, not until after the battle. After he'd failed to stop a Powder Ganger from putting two rounds in Trudy's skull.
"Look, I appreciate it, Sunny, but I'm fine," he stood up, turning to look her in the eyes, even flashing his trademark grin. "Just reminiscing. That's all."
"I didn't realize I was talking to the Courier, and not Riley," she said dryly, crossing her arms.
"They're the same person, Sunny."
"You and I both know they aren't, Riley. One's a mask, a front, and the other's the real person. The rest of the Mojave can know the Courier just fine, but not me. I get the real you. So, spill."
Sucking in some air, he gestured to the edge of the hill, and a gap in the fence. He walked over, sitting down, staring out at the view of Vegas, the bright lights filling the night's sky, casting light on a wasteland otherwise completely beset by shadow.
It was beautiful. Majestic. And terrifying. Riley couldn't forget the responsibility it represented for him. The massive weight on his shoulders, the people who viewed him as their savior who begged him to steer the ship himself even though he so desperately didn't want to.
"Sunny, I don't know what I'm doing. I…I don't know how to be a leader. I don't want to be. I never wanted to be. But the NCR is making all the same damn mistakes the old world did. The legion's full of monsters, and House didn't have it in him to give a damn about anyone real, just the ominous WE that's been the reason so many people did terrible shit in the name of "progress" and I just…I just acted. That's all I've been doing. Acting, and reacting, and hoping that I made the right choices. Because they all led me right here."
Sunny didn't say anything. She just listened, her hand finding its way to his in silent support. Taking a deep breath, he squeezed gently.
"And now, after this battle, if I even survive in the first place because my choices put us in the crosshairs of two super powers and all I've got is a solid hand and the biggest bluff of my life to pull off, I have to face the music. I have to finally see if everything I did was worth it. If I made the right calls, or doomed Vegas to a fate worse than anything it could have imagined. And it'd all be my fault."
"Hey, that's enough," she chided, turning his face to look into her eyes. "You've brought the wasteland together. To fight for a cause bigger than just survivin another day. You're givin us a chance to do the right thing, to look after ourselves and make this place better. The NCR wasn't doin that, the Legion neither, and House didn't care. You care. Even if it all falls apart, it was worth fightin for. Your world was worth fighting for."
"That's the thing!" he snapped, hand not held by Sunny clenched into a fist. "It shouldn't be MY world! We can't live like that, and I'm terrified that's all this is. Me desperately holding the ship together until I croak and then it all falls apart. Like Caesar, like anything all built by one person. I just…what if I was wrong?
"Then don't make it about you."
Her reply sounded so simple, so easy, and it made Riley do a double take. He struggled to find any words to say, instead looking at her with his eyes alight with confusion.
"You don' want it to be your world? Don' want to make all the choices? Then don't. Ya didn' get here all on yer own, not by a longshot. Ya had the brotherhood girl and lab coat and the creepy sniper guy—"
"Hey, Boone's been through a lot," Riley couldn't help but defend his friend, someone who risked his neck for him and who he knew better than probably anyone. "Don't be too hard on him."
"I'm sure," Sunny smiled good naturedly. "Doesn't mean that Cheyenne hasn't spoken more words to me than him last time we all got together."
"Point taken."
"All I'm sayin is sure, you were the leader. The face of it all. The one with the cool nickname, an' all that. But it wasn't just you. The Followers, the Kings, Jacobstown, all of us. We're all in this now. Ya brought us all together, and are fighting for our chance. But that's what this is. A chance. A chance for us, as a community. So be as involved as ya wanna be. Hold it all together, make all the choices. Or make none of em. Walk away after the battle, if that's what ya want. Ya did your part already, more than enough. Ya don't owe the Mojave any more."
"You really think it's that simple?" He asked after a moment, fidgeting with his hands as he really thought about it all.
Could he really do that? Could he just leave the road open and walk away? Watch from the sidelines as his allies took the ball and ran with it, just hoping they'd pick the pieces up on their own.
"If ya trust the allies ya built, if you believe in this? Then absolutely. If ya wanna be the first President of Vegas? Do it. Wanna just be an advisor on the side? Do it. Wanna walk away from it all, leave it to the rest of em and retire somewhere? I can think of a few places that'd welcome ya with open arms."
Raising his eyebrow, he broke his hand from hers, instead shifting it to drape over her shoulder. "Oh, is that so? Do we happen to be sitting in one of those towns right now?"
She laughed, resting her head on his shoulder. "Possibly. If you pull your weight. Goodsprings has no use for layabouts here, we already have Chett."
"Oh I'll pull my own weight. Every town needs a good mechanic after all."
"That we do, cowboy," she closed her eyes, getting closer to him as the two just appreciated the night air for a few more moments.
"Did anyone take over the saloon after Trudy…?" even after all these months, the words still choked in his throat. He had barely known her, really. But her death had stung, and it was often a reminder of what he was fighting for. To make sure shit like that didn't have to happen to the people here anymore.
"Yeah, a new couple who moved here a bit less than a week after ya left. Two nice guys from Primm, funny as hell and can whip together a mean cocktail. Like they've got a sixth sense or somethin."
"I can't wait to meet em," Riley started to stand up, offering his hand to Sunny. She took it, and he pulled her to her feet.
"They'll like ya, I think. As long as ya don't go back to broodin Riley, he's no fun."
"Oh, so sorry, dear Miss Smiles," Riley mocked as they made their way back down the hill, hand in hand. "Forgive me for allowing the weight of the world's problems to make me a bit less fun sometimes."
"I'll consider it," she quipped back, rolling her eyes. "Come on, it's late and us mere mortals need'ta get sleep."
"What, you? Sleep? It's not like you need beauty sleep or anything."
"Flattery won't get you out of me draggin your ass to sleep, Courier."
"Worth a shot, wasn't it?"
"Ask me in the morning."
Maybe this wouldn't go so poorly after all. Because, despite all of it, despite everything he'd done and had to do and the risk to it all, she believed in him. Believed in this. And she hadn't steered him wrong yet.
Don't forget to leave a review! They're incredibly helpful! Hope you enjoyed and stay safe everyone!
