Sorry for the long wait! I've been working a lot and I've had trouble in finding time to write this chapter. Anyways, enjoy! Thanks for reading!

It's quarter to three, there's no one in the place except you and me
So, set 'em up, Joe, I got a little story you oughta know
We're drinkin', my friend, to the end of a brief episode
Make it one for my baby and one more for the road

Chapter Seven: "One For My Baby"

"No fucking way! You have got to be shitting me."

"Nope."

"You killed House?"

"Hey, keep your voice down!"

"Sorry," Cass said as she licked her lips, combing her fingers through her auburn hair. "I just… I can't believe you did it. You actually fucking did it."

Avery smiled a bit at this, bringing her bottle sarsaparilla to her lips and taking a swig. "I told you it was going to be good, didn't I?"

"But not this good!" Cass' pulled a handful of caps out of her pocket. She slapped them on the counter and gestured towards James, "I want a bottle of your finest whiskey for me and Avery."

"Oh, no, Cass. I'm going to pass on the alcohol," Avery said, placing her palm against her chest. "I'm not feeling too well."

Cass' brows furrowed as she stared at Avery in perplexity. "Why? What's wrong?"

"I've been pretty nauseous for the past few weeks. I think I'm just stressed," she swallowed. "It's been so bad that I haven't been able to hold down anything, except soda. And after a while, this sarsaparilla starts to taste pretty gross, too."

"Is it constant nausea or…?"

"It's at its worst during the daytime, and being in the heat doesn't help. But it seems to ease up during the evening, just enough to let me fall asleep."

"Ah, I know what your problem is."

Avery raised her eyebrows expectantly. "What is it?"

"You haven't been drinking enough," Cass said simply. "Besides, it's night time! Nothing will cure that remaining nausea like a good ol' glass of whiskey."

"Your logic is infallible," Avery responded sardonically. "Not every problem can be solved with alcohol."

"Says you," Cass sniffed. "It's solved all of mine."

"Now that's total bullshit and you know it. Remember when I found you in the Mojave Outpost, crying into your rocks glass, piss drunk in the middle of the day?"

"I don't recall…"

"Hm, is your memory going?" Avery sniggered. "Another thing that alcohol won't fix."

"Shut up," Cass said quickly.

Avery was about to continue their squabble when a bottle of whiskey was thrust between them. James had finally procured a flagon of aged liquor from the back, and he set it on the counter between Avery and Cass, along with two glasses. Cass grabbed the bottle and brushed away a thin layer of dust, seemingly admiring the label, before pouring herself some. After a moment of deliberation, Cass threw an innocent look towards Avery, lifting the whiskey up and wiggling it in an enticing manner.

"No," Avery said in a stern tone, pushing her empty glass out of Cass' reach. "Stop trying to peer pressure me, you whiskey slut."

"Whiskey slut," Cass parroted as she took a swill of her drink. "That has a nice ring to it, eh?"

Avery couldn't contain the bubble of laughter that rose in her chest. "You would like that."

James circled around once more, coming to a stop in front of Cass, his hands clasped behind his back. "How's the taste, Cass? Good as usual?"

"Oh, yes. You can never go wrong with Maker's."

"You're the only one who enjoys that whiskey, so I keep an abundant supply around. You're single-handedly keeping me and Francine in business with all the caps you spend on that stuff," he thumbed behind him towards his sister, who gave a leisurely wave.

"Har-har," Cass said sarcastically. "I'm feeling a bit hungry, James. I'll have the usual and Avery will have…" she gestured to Avery with an expectant look.

Avery put her hands up defensively. "I'm fine. I'm not hungry."

"You should really try to eat something."

"I'll pass. I don't think I could even manage a bite," Avery cringed, her stomach doing a flip at the thought.

"Alright, then it's just me tonight," Cass said, sounding mildly annoyed, as she threw a few more caps on the counter. "Thanks, James."

"You said you'd 'have the usual.' Do you come here every day?" Avery queried.

Cass shrugged. "Only when you're out doing your whole 'hero courier' thing. Boone used to be my drinking buddy, but you've seemed to run him off."

"Hey, he ran away of his own volition. It's not my fault that he's as stubborn as a mule."

"You and I both know that Boone has and always will be as stubborn and unmovable as stone. Have you heard anything from him lately?"

"Nah, but I didn't expect to. He was pretty pissed off when I left him back in Novac."

"You never told me what happened," Cass said affably. "Did you want to talk about it?"

"It's a long story, Cass."

"Then give me a synopsis."

Avery groaned and buried her face in her hands. She hated to admit it, but she had missed her grumpy sniper companion quite a lot. But between killing House, talking with King, and planning her next move with Yes Man… she hadn't had a lot of time to deliberate on her current standing with Boone. Was he even still angry? That man could hold a grudge like it was nobody's business. It was almost inhuman.

She let out a long, aggravated sigh and pursed her lips. "Okay. I can try that. Um… let's see. He drunkenly kissed me one night and I may have overreacted."

"Overreacted… how?"

"I slapped him," Avery said in a small voice, afraid to look Cass' way. "Then I took up that caravan contract with Jed and refused to let Boone come with me," she paused. "Okay, I'm not even looking at you but I can feel your judgmental glare."

"Damn right," Cass' voice was dangerously low. "I am so judging you. What a shitty thing to do to your friend, Avery. No wonder Boone stayed in Novac."

"You don't understand, Cass. I've been under so much stress, that him kissing me…. it was a breaking point! It was like I just snapped, and…"

"Stop," her friend interjected. "I know that you had your reasons, Ace. I also know that you're going to do anything you can to try and convince yourself- and me, that you didn't do anything wrong. But, be empathetic. Look at it from Craig's perspective."

Avery felt her face flush, an inexplicable heat spreading across her cheeks and lingering in her chest. "I have looked at it from his perspective."

"I don't think you have," her friend said amicably. "You slapped him, abandoned him after a year of partnership, and then you leave him waiting for you in Novac for three months? I mean… wow, Ace. That's cold."

Her skin prickled with embarrassment under the scrutiny of Cass' glare. Had she been wrong? Was it possible that she the asshole and not Boone?

"I guess…" Avery started, stopping to swallow the growing lump in her throat. "I guess I was impulsive and unfair."

"It's never easy to admit when you're wrong, but it's necessary," Cass said, sounding more like a sage than a caravaneer.

Avery pressed her index finger against her lips. "Hm, does that mean you're going to admit that alcohol isn't a problem solver?"

Cass shot her friend a dirty look. "Watch it."

Avery couldn't help the smile that pulled at her lips. After a few moments of comfortable silence, Francine emerged from the kitchen with an array of dishes lined in neat rows upon her arms. She handed them out in a clock-wise order around the bar, finally settling on Cass. A plate of some mystery meat, still steaming, was set before the red-head. Avery had almost forgotten that Cass had ordered a meal, and she brought her face closer and peered at the plate with mild curiosity. A horrendous, malodorous scent invaded her senses and she wrenched back in disgust. She scrunched up her nose and tried to ignore her stomach, which was lurching and twisting.

"What's wrong, Ace? You look a little green."

Avery pointed an accusing finger at the plate of food. "What the hell is that?"

Cass looked genuinely confused, "It's just Brahmin steak. I eat this all the time."

"It smells… rotten. Between that and the smell of your whiskey, I feel like vomiting all over the counter."

The redhead brought her nose close to the steak and inhaled deeply, giving her head a slight shake. "It smells delicious to me." She hoisted her knife up to the plate and cut a segment of the meat from the rind, placing the small portion in her mouth. She chewed slowly, "It tastes fine, Ace. I think you're losing it."

"No kidding," Avery pulled a bottle of water from her bag and gulped some down, hoping it would abate her queasiness. "Francine was cooking Brahmin steak the other day and it smelled the same way."

Cass halted mid-chew. "How long have you had this aversion to Brahmin?"

"I don't know," Avery said, exasperated. "It started right after the nausea. And it's not just Brahmin, it's happened with squirrel bits and iguana, as well. Why do you ask?"

"Maybe you're sick. If it's a recent change, you could've caught a bug from Utah."

"It's possible," Avery shrugged. "But I'm fairly certain it's just stress. The body does weird things under duress, we both know that."

"Still, it might be a good idea to visit Dr. Usanagi and get a check-up."

"I don't really think it's necessary."

"Avery, don't be a god damned fool. You know very well that this is out of the ordinary, and if it's persisted for a few weeks then it's obviously something that requires attention. Now, so help me, I will drag you there myself if I have to."

"Fine, fine. I'll go first thing in the morning," Avery said. "But I do have to meet with Yes Man tomorrow. So hopefully Dr. Usanagi doesn't tell me to get bed rest, because I do not have time for that. I'm already a day behind."

"Whatever Dr. Usanagi tells you to do," Cass turned her steely blue eyes onto Avery, "you will fucking do it. I will see to that."

"Jesus, Cass. You sound like my mom," Avery rubbed a hand across her face with an annoyed grunt. "What's your deal?"

"Ugh." Cass let her silverware drop onto her plate, her eyes never leaving Avery's face. Her lips quirked downward and she frowned deeply. "Nothing can happen to you, Ace. The fate of New Vegas rests on your shoulders. If something bad did happen to you, and you were to be taken out of the equation… we would fall flat on our faces and wind up at the beginning. Again. So it's very, very important that you remain healthy."

She paused and shoveled another bite of steak into her maw, her face falling, as if deep in thought. She swallowed her bite, "And you know… if that means taking a few weeks off to rest and get better, then so be it."

Avery rested her chin in the palm of her hand and let out a low hum. "That's it? That's the only reason?"

"Well, that and… I'm kind of fond of you," Cass let out a tight laugh. She was trying to lighten the mood but her eyes betrayed her, revealing a tangible worry in those crystalline depths.

Avery rested her hand upon Cass' arm and gave it a light squeeze. "I'll go tomorrow, Cass. I promise."

Cass' gaze lingered for a moment before she turned back to her meal, taking a quick swig of her whiskey. Avery let her hand drop back to her lap and turned around, facing the lobby. It was nice to have someone worry about her, she had to admit. And Avery fully understood why the redhead was so troubled. Avery was the first person to get this far in freeing New Vegas and that was a huge fucking deal.

Avery also acknowledged that if Boone were here he would be just as worried about her health. But with Boone, his apprehension came from a different place. It wasn't logical. He would have told her to see Dr. Usanagi because he was concerned about her. And if liberating New Vegas was the first thing she had to drop in order to get better, he would support that wholeheartedly. As long as they could keep killing Legionaries, then he'd be fine.

Cass was different. She was far more level-headed and goal oriented. Sure, she was genuinely worried about Avery, there was no doubting that. But her concern was more about the many than the few. Cass saw the big picture, she always did. But that's why she and Avery got along so well. She sighed.

Avery stood from her stool and muttered a quick goodbye to Cass, as much to her friend's chagrin. Avery had been happy to resign to bed before nine in the evening ever since she returned from Utah. Sleep was something she looked forward to. She had so much on her plate that being able to doze off into unconsciousness for a few hours was a sweet, sweet release. The only thing that hindered her was the unwavering nausea that she felt, but it hadn't totally stopped her from being able to sleep.

She drudged up the stairs, her feet dragging behind her as she went. Every fiber of her being was exhausted. She hadn't even done much today.

She started off with her usual rounds, stopping by Old Mormon Fort to talk to her friend, Arcade. They were in dire need of medical supplies and she handed them over without issue, since she had stockpile of supplies hidden away in her safe. Arcade had wanted to catch up be she hadn't the time, so she promised to swing by the following day with some lunch (another thing to add to her to-do list tomorrow). Then she went to trade in some Utah goods for some new equipment at Mick & Ralph's. After that, she went to talk to Yes Man, but ended up getting side tracked by a performance being held at the King's. She remained there until the early evening, when she decided to retire to her hotel room.

But once she walked into the Atomic Wrangler and saw Cass at the bar she couldn't stop herself from taking a seat, too excited to break the news of House's demise to head to bed. But now, after all of the surging adrenaline faded from her bloodstream, she felt reality's grip. She had set herself back by not accomplishing anything worth while today. There was so much to be done and yet she avoided it all. So now, on top of visiting Dr. Usanagi, she had to swing by and discuss her plans with Yes Man (who she was sure had an entire list of things for her to do). She was sure Arcade would understand if she were to reschedule.

The door to her hotel room creaked as she slid inside, flipping on the light switch. A small lamp in the corner of the room flickered to life and she flung herself onto her bed. After a few moments, she rolled onto her back, letting out a low groan of contentment. It wasn't long before she felt the welcoming embrace of sleep, and she willingly succumbed to the darkness that washed over her.

A fluorescent light flickered somewhere above her, fading in and out in quick succession, its yellowish iridescence casting the small room in an eerie hue. A derelict clock hung forlornly on the wall, its hands frozen in time, the glass face cracked and jaded. Paint chipped and hung loosely from the walls, an adjacent window boarded up and shielding her from any sunlight. The tumultuous flickering of the light exacerbated her nausea and she kicked her feet idly, her legs dangling over the edge of the examination table, trying to ignore the queasy sensation.

The patient gown Dr. Usanagi had given her was scratchy and severely uncomfortable. She raked her fingers across her lower back where the fabric irritated her skin. She had been waiting for what seemed like hours, but she knew it had only been about fifteen minutes. Time seemed to drag on in a doctor's office. Whether it was the anticipation of procedure or the subsequent paranoia of a negative prognosis, one minute in a clinic felt like ten.

She was never fond of clinics or hospitals. It always smelled of alcohol and an underlying putridity, with the reminder of death lingering behind every corner. The old derelict clinics tended to be even worse, with hundred year old blood stains and rust reaching every alcove of the building. It put her on edge and she felt restless, fidgeting every few minutes. It didn't help that she had been feeling like absolute shit for the past month, but being pressured to see a doctor by Cass had her feeling shittier. She brought her fingers to her mouth and gnawed at the cuticles.

Just as she was beginning to lose her sanity, the door to the room slid open after a terse knock.

Dr. Usanagi walked in, carrying a clipboard in one hand and tucking her hair behind her ear with the other. She seemed tired, not that it was a surprise. Authentic, well-trained doctors were scarce in the Mojave, and seeing that she was the only decent clinic within walking distance of New Vegas, she constantly had her hands full.

The doctor scanned the clipboard and looked up, "Avery Dixon, how are you? It's been a while."

"Ah, yeah. It has," she swallowed nervously, twirling a strand of flaxen hair between her forefinger and thumb. "I've been better, I'm not feeling too hot."

"I can see that," her calculating eyes did a quick sweep over Avery's form. "When you first arrived, you said you were looking for just a regular checkup. What prompted you to head in?"

"I've been feeling a bit nauseous lately, and absolutely exhausted," she rolled her head from side to side, the bones in her neck popping succinctly. "I've also developed this strange aversion to meat."

"Hm, that's quite unfortunate. Let's get down to what's bothering you," she set the clipboard onto a small medical tray to her right. "Now, from your symptoms it just sounds like it could just be a flu. How long have you been experiencing them?"

"It's been a few weeks now," she replied.

Dr. Usanagi let out a small hum from the back of her throat and moved towards her. She brandished her stethoscope and pressed the metal head against her back. The steely metal head was freezing, she could feel it through the flimsy fabric of her medical gown. It caused a wave of goosebumps to prickle across her skin and she suppressed a shiver. It took a few moments of the doctor commanding her to breathe in and then out. Then in. Then out. After moving the head of the device to her chest and repeating the process, the doctor then retracted her medical device and wrapped it around her neck. She scribbled something in jumbled writing on her clipboard without saying a word, which did not bode well with Avery.

She brought her hands up to Avery's throat, setting her slender fingers on either side of her neck, moving them in concise circles, "I'm just feeling for any swelling in your lymph nodes."

Avery always found doctors intrusive, but it was their job to be so. It wasn't the doctor's fault that Avery was uneasy with being in close proximity to others. But if there was a way to be sufficiently diagnosed without having to be poked and prodded, she would be beyond elated and far more comfortable with doctors in general.

Dr. Usanagi continued to feel for any swollen lymph nodes, then moved to check her liver. As her skilled hands applied pressure to her upper abdomen, Avery felt something weird. She grimaced and wiggled away, feeling annoyed by the sensation, which was a mixture of sore and a dull ache. The doctor clicked her tongue in annoyance, ignoring Avery's futile attempts to squirm away.

"You grimaced when I put pressure on your abdomen. How long have you had that?"

"It started around the same time as my nausea," Avery responded, a bit puzzled. "But I don't remember it feeling that bad."

Dr. Usanagi quirked a perfectly maintained eyebrow. "Do you mind if I check your stomach again?"

Avery nodded mutely, lying back against the examination table. As her doctor pressed down on her abdomen once more, she let out a small groan. The lower her hands went, the more uncomfortable Avery felt. It was over as quickly as it started and Dr. Usanagi retracted her hands.

"Hm. Odd," she hummed, checking the chart again. "When was your last menstrual cycle? It's not on the chart."

"March-" she stopped, her eyebrows furrowing together.

No... that wasn't right. It was wrong, it had to be wrong. It was currently the first week in June. She should've had her period the third week of April. Her period was like clockwork, always arriving on the third week of every month.

Avery racked her brain, trying to backtrack through every day of the past two months.

"Avery, your last menstrual cycle?" Dr. Usanagi inquired again.

Avery suddenly felt weak, her skin breaking out in a cold sweat. She tried to swallow, smacking her lips together, her mouth as dry as the Mojave. Her throat felt like it was closing.

The third week of every month, she gets her period. The third week of March was the last time she remembered getting her cycle. She remembered because she had the embarrassment of asking the tribal women in Zion if they had any sanitary napkins or feminine hygiene products. But the third week of April...

Avery stiffened.

Between taking down White Legs totems and killing an insanely large amount Yao Guai, she had no recollection of Mother Nature ever stopping by. No cramps, no cravings, and no mood swings. She felt the blood drain from her face. It all made sense now.

The nausea arriving right in the morning, constant exhaustion, sore stomach and breasts, the way she wanted to throw up every time she even caught a whiff of Brahmin steak. How she had, had an unusual craving for Fancy Lad Cakes, even going as far as hunting down a single box, after checking every store that offered consumables. She had scarfed down the entire box of snack cakes in two minutes, something she was never able to do before.

She didn't even like sweets.

"I... I need a-" she mumbled, sweating copiously underneath the flickering light of the examination room. She felt hot. She felt sick. Bile began to rise at the back of her throat and she couldn't stop it.

"Avery?" Dr. Usanagi sounded worried now, her hand coming up to feel her forehead. The doctor's fingers were cool against her burning skin. "Avery, what's wrong?"

Panic tore through her chest as her heart hammered behind her ribs and in her ears. All she could hear was a high ringing sound and she swayed, her chest trembling as she suppressed a groan. Her mouth started to water profusely, her stomach churning.

"I'm going to be sick," she managed to choke out.

Dr. Usanagi hopped back just in time as Avery bent over, spewing the remnants of her breakfast all over the scuffed linoleum floor. Vomit seeped from her nose and the corners of her lips as she tried to stop it, her hand coming up to cup her mouth. Nothing could assuage the wave of sickness that rocked her to her core and she threw up again, yellow tinted gall coating her hands and lap. Her doctor muttered something about grabbing a nurse and wrenched open the office door, disappearing in a blur to the waiting room.

As Usanagi's head disappeared from view, Avery let herself slide backwards. She plopped against the examination table, her gown soaked through with vomit. Faintly, nervously, her hand fluttered to her lower abdomen. It was two months. A little over eight weeks.

The mere thought of her stomach swelling with potential life made her queasy all over again. She rolled over and began to dry heave, her body willing her to throw up but producing nothing. A nurse came in and called out to her, but Avery paid her no mind. She felt dizzy, her brain buzzing with so many questions that she found it hard to think straight.

Maybe Benny had been right. She had been dealt with an 18-carat run of bad luck, and it seems her bad luck didn't die with him. She let her head fall onto the table and moaned, her hand remaining above her belly.

She was pregnant.

Fuck.

A/N: Ah, finally, another chapter. Next chapter we'll be seeing more of Boone, and the plot line will progress a lot quicker. I thought I'd do an Avery-centric chapter and clarify some of the weird symptoms she's been having. My mother and sister both had aversion to meat during their first trimester! Also, I just love Cass in an affectionate mom mode.

Anyway, thanks for holding in there and I hope to update more frequently. Please, R&R! :)