AUTHOR'S NOTE: Okay, let's be honest. I'm a slow updater. I just am. I don't try to be, but I am. Real life, and all that. I do, however, have a few chapters working right now on this fic specifically. This is the first. Coming up, I have ideas for Nelson and Helios One. Just basic wandering stuff. Hope this works for people. Leave a review!
Boone was less than thrilled to learn that not only did they need to retrace their steps through Nipton, which still burned as they trudged through in respectful and reverent silence between them, but that they also needed to go back to Novac to speak to Manny, of all people. The jackass had ordered her to clear those ghouls out weeks prior, and he'd been away at the strip when she'd finished the job. Apparently, he was the only remaining lead that Ren had on this Benny character, which meant that Boone would simply need to suck it up and deal with it.
That didn't mean he'd have to like it.
She walked into town timidly, glancing back at Boone every few moments to make sure that he was alright. Juli felt guilty for forcing him back to this place, especially after their shared trauma of the revenge killing of Jeannie May, but as much as she wanted to consider his feelings, she also knew that she had to find Benny – and that stupid, evasive Platinum Chip. It was her ticket to a better life, or so she thought. Everything had driven her to take that Courier job – all the signs pointed to "yes." And, the fact that she survived that gunshot sort of felt like fate. Or it would have if she believed in such things. She did believe God did everything for a reason, she just didn't always deign to try to understand what that reasoning was.
So, not only would she force him to return to this dead memory of his married life, but she would also force him to endure the inevitable conversation with Manny, a man whom she knew Boone despised.
She told Boone simply to let her speak, and he grunted at her, glaring into the horizon. The only noticeable difference in his gruff demeanor was in his body language. His steps became longer, so she nearly had to trot to keep up with him, and he pumped his arms a little more than usual. His jaw was clenched, and she could tell he wanted to make quick business of her business, whatever it was.
Ren could live with that.
Besides, there were other tests she needed to run on herself to see how her hormone levels were adjusting. Her body was slow to recover from her time in incarceration as a slave, and there were just tests that she wasn't comfortable doing in front of Boone. She'd need a bathroom, a closed off area, with water and access to medical supplies.
She had all of that here.
Even if that came later.
When she saw Manny, he wasn't looking at her. Rather, the man's eyes were trained critically on the man who now had the decency to allow her to lead, and the two of them stared like she wasn't milling between them awkwardly.
"Boone," Manny greeted tersely.
"Vargas," was Boone's reply.
Another long silence. A pissing contest, two men, one glare, a battle of wills being fought out right there on the pavement of the early evening. She cleared her throat and Manny looked down at her. The creases in his face lightened noticeably, almost alarmingly, when his eyes turned to her, and the edges of his mouth broke into a smile.
"Didn't think I'd see you again when I heard you'd skipped town, Chinese," he quipped, though, not unkindly.
"Don't call her that," Boone snapped defensively, stepping forward.
She raised her hand softly, her knuckles colliding with Boone's chest. Even though it was the barest of contact, he stopped advancing, which made her feel good. He respected her enough to listen when she asked things of him.
She liked how that felt.
"Didn't mean anything by it, man," he told her apologetically. "No hard feelings, right?"
She nodded silently, feeling the tension rise between the two others.
"I didn't believe it when they said you'd brought this sniper out of here. You two partners in crime now, or what?"
Again, the favored phrasing of the Englishers pleased her, but she knew better than to tout the title, which she fostered proudly in her heart, in front of Boone's rival. If Juli and Boone were anything, it was tenuous, at best. He didn't snap at her as much as he had before, and the weeks together, she counted six now, seemed good for them both. She made sure he ate, and with him next to her – because he always volunteered for watch first – she was guaranteed some semblance of sleep for a few hours, at least. Alone, the nightmares came creeping, but with a human beside her, her pride just wouldn't allow it.
So, by default, being next to somebody prevented her from having nightmares.
Funny how that worked out.
"It doesn't matter what we're doing," Boone finally snapped. "What's it to you, anyway?"
"I don't know. Just figured I'd ask before you ran out on her, too."
Boone tried to move forward aggressively now, and he got a shove in before she managed to turn around and put two firm hands on his equally firm chest. She didn't like the contact, or the proximity, but she'd be damned if Boone ruined her chance at getting Manny's information. It was her only lead.
"Craig, stop!" Ren snapped loudly.
Manny continued to goad.
"He tell you I used to spot for him when we were enlisted together in the NCR?" Manny asked from over Juli's shoulder.
Juli turned around. It was news, but it was hardly a surprise. It would explain their connection, and Manny's distaste, which he'd already mentioned in passing before Juli had ever even met Boone, for Boone's wife.
"Yeah, and after we got out, I talked him into settling down here. So, here we are."
"Worst mistake of my life, you son of a bitch!" Boone nearly shouted.
"Easy, gentlemen, easy!"
Her tone took on a harsh, almost metallic quality as she fought to control the conversation. She was taken with the disheartening notion that nothing she could do would put it back on track without harsher words.
Again, her temper began to flare up. She hadn't shown it to Boone yet, and she wasn't sure if she wanted to. He'd likely seen it through his scope when she'd attacked those Legionnaires, but if he had, he'd never asked her about it.
It was beginning to boil now, eager for release.
These two assholes were quibbling over petty differences while she was just trying to find out the information that was life or death to her – literally. It was like they didn't care.
They probably didn't.
Yes, Boone was hurting. He'd lost his wife. People died. Every day, people died. It was a sad truth, and it was one everybody had to live with. Squabbling over minor details that in the end didn't even really matter anymore just made her feel angry. If everybody did that, the world would be a terrible place.
The world already was a terrible place.
When she realized she was beginning to drift off into her own head, she realized the two men were shouting at one another. The once bustling courtyard had cleared out, like animals fleeing predators, save the NCR retiree Andy in the distance, who watched them with carefully downturned eyes.
"Look – look!" she shouted, raising her hands to separate the two of them – one hand on Manny's chest, the other on Boone's.
The two men ceased and both turned to her. Both mouths were upturned in disgust, both eager to lash out at her if the need arose. It appeared as if, in their eyes, the want of this was becoming compulsory. So eager were they to just be cruel, to hurt in its purest form, that their eyes did enough to hurt her deeply, sensitive as she was. Especially when Boone's eyes alit on her like that.
"What?" Boone snapped at her, using a tone she'd never heard directed at her before.
"Don't talk to me that way!" she yelled at him, shoving him backwards now. "You hear me? Not ever again!"
In surprise, his eyes widened, and they met eyes for a second as she stared her anger into the back of his head. He hadn't been expecting that, but she didn't care.
"What's your deal with Boone, Manny?" I snapped, whirling around to face the man.
"Me and his wife – we didn't see eye-to-eye on some things. We had some pretty big arguments."
"You son of a bitch, you don't get to talk about her!" Boone shouted, advancing again.
She tried to stop him, but he handled her again, pushing her to the side.
That made her mad.
He handled her.
Like property.
Like trash.
Like a slave.
"Hey – hey!"
They ignored her now, opting to shout at each other.
"We grew up in North Vegas, Boone! You and me together! We enlisted together! I brought you down with me to serve and all of a sudden this woman, who was too good for it, got to take you away? What the fuck, Boone? You think I had any part in it?"
Nobody needed to identify "it."
The disappearance of his wife seemed to be common knowledge to everybody.
"Did you?" Boone accused.
"No! I didn't see eye-to-eye with that bitch" – Boone lunged forward, but she managed to hold him back, barely – "but I wouldn't have killed her, alright? She was important to you, and that mattered to me!"
"How do I know you're not lying?"
"Man, you know I wouldn't have killed her! When she disappeared, don't get me wrong, I knew I owed somebody, but I wouldn't have killed her!"
"Hey!" she shouted, but Boone was now beyond rational thought.
He shoved her out of the way to lunge forward at Manny. She fell to the ground, scraping her elbow – landing on it hard, in fact – and she "oofed" slightly as the two men began throwing punches. An unpleasant nervous-system-related sensation erupted from that place, radiating in pangs up her arm to her shoulder and down her forearm to the tips of her fingers.
The throbbing of these pangs didn't stop, and she knew he'd messed her up. It hurt badly.
Ren had thought this was a bad idea to begin with, but not this bad of an idea.
Children, both of them. Children.
Enraged by the pain in her arm, Ren shot up from the ground, meeting the length of Boone's torso with her full weight. Inherently top-heavy, the man toppled to the ground, with her on top of him, the full weight of her and her pack slamming into him with full force. Nearly instinctively, he clambered to separate her from him, but she didn't feel like clinging. The tackle had done its job, and for some reason her fall and his tone made her feel awfully sad.
The sadness came abruptly, and she squeezed her necklace just once to brace her as she stood up, brushing off her clothes. She didn't turn to help him up, but Ren did turn with icy eyes back to face Boone's provoker.
"Vargas," she spat, disdain layering the fabric of her voice. "I need to know information about Benny, but I can see now that we won't be getting anywhere this evening. We will retreat to my room and I'll come find you tomorrow morning – alone, seeing as that's necessary."
Manny seemed to become aware of the fact that she was bleeding from her arm, which she only realized after his eyes lingered there for a moment too long.
God, did it hurt more than it probably should.
"Fine," was all he said, turning on his heels to stroll away.
Fury building in spite of the aching she felt inside, she flipped around and began to storm to the room, the key to which she'd been provided when they'd first left Novac. She heard Boone trailing mutely inside, and when he entered behind her, he closed the door quietly.
Despite that, she could sense his rage – rage at her, however fair that was.
"You are a child!" she spat at him, once again becoming painfully aware of her accent as the anger clawed its way forth.
"Don't start with me, Warden, don't start with me! We're not doing this right now!"
"I need that information!" she shouted at him.
They both discarded their bags at the door, a shared habit they both must have acquired in time as transient beings, but Boone retreated over to the far end of the bed to sit, his back to her.
"Do you hear me?"
"I told you I'd have trouble being back here!"
"No, you did not, actually!" she snapped back, trying not to shout. "You did not say anything! You just grunted at me like a big, dumb man and stormed into this confrontation like a Brahmin!"
He stood up now, whirling to face her with a scowl on his face.
"And what did you want me to do, huh? Just sit there and let him disrespect my dead wife?"
His rage was evident now, and he targeted it at her. She suddenly felt very small.
"But you wouldn't know anything about that, would you? You're little – don't know anything about drugs, don't know anything about sex! Miss traditional, preaching to me like she were the eyes and ears of God Himself!"
"Do not turn this on me!" she shrieked back.
"And why not?"
"Because I need that information, Boone! And you ruined my chance to get it! Which means the bastard who put a bullet in my skull is one step closer to getting away with it!"
The frustration got to her, and she cried out in anguish.
"I must catch him, Craig!" she told him more firmly.
"Why do you need to catch him, anyway? Aren't you just gonna kill him? That's not very saintly of you," he pandered, clearly mocking her. "Revenge killing – just ain't you, Warden."
"You don't even know me!" she shrieked back, rage reaching a peak. "You don't know anything about me! So do not pretend to understand why I want to do anything!"
"I'm here, aren't I?" he shouted back. "Know you well enough – as good as anybody else!"
"Oh, so you are an expert now, right? Expert on me?"
"Who gives a shit if I'm not?"
There was a silence then.
"Look, Boone, we need to talk about this anger that you have. It is getting in the way here."
"Why? Are you gonna talk?"
She clenched her jaw.
She wasn't ready.
"Yeah! Exactly! See, I don't want to talk any more than you do! So don't tell me it's 'getting in the way,' Warden. Don't!"
"Then at least be respectful of the things I need to do!" she snapped back at him. "Please!"
"Pf. Following you. What a lot of good that's done me! All I do is watch your back – picking off radscorpions or deathclaws or whatever else you manage to sink your feet into! What do I get out of it, huh? Gratification?"
"You agreed to come with me, Boone, I did not make you!"
"But why are you here? Why do you even care? Why do you want to talk about this?"
"I wanted to help you!"
"I don't want your help!" he finally shouted, louder than ever. "I just want to be left alone! I don't want you or anybody else, not ever again! Should I say it in Chinese, or will the English do for now?"
A burden.
That was what he was saying.
She was a burden. They were not partners in crime, not even friends. She was his burden. A dumb burden, too, judging by the last question.
Far was it from her to continue to be cumbersome to him. Because, all in all, she knew that she was not dumb and she knew that she was not one to pry. He was reacting harshly to something that was not her fault, and the emotions of this place, high as they were, had revealed his true feelings.
"Fine…" she finally whispered.
The one word, frightening in its simplicity and finality, caused him to back up several paces. His jaw became tight then, and, even through his sunglasses, which he now took off and tossed onto the bed, along with his beret, she saw his eyes flit down to her elbow. A nearly silent "drip…drip" interrupted the now malignant quiet in the room, and she didn't want to look at him anymore.
"When'd that happen?" he snapped.
"When you pushed me to the ground," she snapped back, walking by him to enter the bathroom.
He grabbed her unaffected wrist now, but gently, his fingers emanating desperation and regret like radiation.
"When did I do that?"
"Before you fought Manny," she replied nebulously, feeling tears coming high in her throat.
He didn't say anything then, and she pulled her wrist from between his fingers, which had become loose at the words.
She entered the bathroom and closed the door behind her. The inside was dark, but it was cool. And, most of all, it was quiet.
A single sob, more out of a release of emotions than anything else, came from her chest as she curled to the ground, sitting in the grit in her misery, wondering how she'd ever wanted to be with other people at all.
People hurt. Bad. They didn't care about her, not like they used to. Why would they? She was a slave, coming from a broken family, a destroyed village. She had little to offer but a lucky shot with a rifle and some medical knowledge. Maybe she was good with people, too, at least in terms of getting them to act how she wanted, but was that really a good thing?
"Ren…" he whispered gently through the door, a tone he rarely used.
He must have heard her.
"Go home, Boone," she called to him, sniffling loud enough that she was sure he could hear her through the door.
"What do you mean?" he asked, his voice taking on that edge again.
"Go home to the memory of your wife," she snapped bitterly. "You have a bungalow here. Go to it. I know it would be better there for you."
A long silence then. Then, a gentle thud against the door. He must have been leaning against it.
"I can't go back there, Juli," he told her, a broken confession.
"Then go to sleep," was her next order.
"I can't do that either, Ren, let me see your arm."
"Why should you care?" she spat at him into the dark room, knowing he'd hear.
"I did it, and I'm sorry," he whispered bluntly.
A longer pause.
She stood up and opened the door all before she realized she'd been crying and she must have looked awful. Abashed then, but all too late, she turned her face away from him as the door moved and they faced each other.
"Don't make me go back there," he whispered to her now, his own voice broken.
She glanced up at him and was surprised. There were tears in his eyes as well. All of the sudden, she felt empathic – he was back in this place where he'd been happily married. Or, married, at the very least. His wife, who'd been alive, had been here. And now he was here, and she was gone.
That had to hurt, no matter what she said.
"I'll patch up your arm," he bargained, sounding pitiful. "I'll patch it up if you let me stay here with you tonight."
She pursed her lips before answering.
"You can do that for me," she finally whispered.
One thing led to another, and the cloth rags they used for bandaging was being gingerly, and sloppily, applied to her elbow, medicine being applied topically by rough fingers to ebb the radiating throbbing that had lessened but not disappeared.
"I wasn't right," he told her after the silence. "I wasn't right to talk to you that way."
"You were not."
"I didn't mean it."
A silence.
"I know," Ju whispered.
And, once more, that was enough.