AN/ Okay, so the Courier is shot right outside Goodsprings and he (or she) travels a lot, so how is it that no one knows who he is? He must have passed through Goodsprings at least once, if not more than that (as is the case in this story). So, I'm adding a bit more to Jack's background story. I love it when characters develop on their own.

Chapter One: Memories, and Lack Thereof

Jack woke up to a distorted view of a ceiling fan. The spinning made him dizzy so he tightly shut his eyes again.

"Your awake. How 'bout that."

A flash of recollections shot through his mind. A man in a checkered suit... Himself opening his eyes to someone saying, "Guess who's waking up over here?" Wait, he hadn't noticed someone say that at the time. He had been all foggy then, barely hearing what the Khans were saying, let alone understanding it. With a slight delay, he realized something like that might be happening again. He opened his eyes, forcing through the headache it caused, and pushed himself into a sitting position, reaching around to his back out of instinct for a rifle that wasn't there.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, easy there. Easy, Ja.. um, junior," A soothing voice said from his left. "You've been out cold a couple of days now." The effort to sit dashed any thought of jumping up and fighting whoever he thought was about to kill him. That and no matter how hard he tried the muscles in his eyelids forced themselves shut when he saw the light in the middle of the room. The soft voice continued, making it a bit easier for him to resist the deep urge to jump up and fight. "Why don't you just relax a second, get your bearings." When he felt the room stop spinning he opened his eyes again and turned to see an old bald man with a white mustache sitting next to him. "Okay, let's see what the damage is. How 'bout your name? Can you tell me your name?"

"What? Yeah, um..." He stopped for a second, struggling with his memory before saying, "Uh, crap, I don't remember.. wait, uh, Jack! My name is Jack." He was lost for a second wondering how something as simple as his name was hard for him to remember, and what could have happened if he hadn't been able to remember it. What would he have done, made up a random name to go by until he remembered?

"Well, your not to far gone Jack, at least you got your name right. That's good. You had me worried there for a second, I thought you might have forgotten some stuff. The bullet hit the side of your head pretty good there but I guess it didn't hurt your brain none. There were a few bit of lead I had to go in after and that's what had me worried the most."

"Wait, wait a minute, what? How do you know I got my name right?"

The aged doctor smiled and started to say something but saw the genuine look on Jacks face. "Oh, dear, you don't remember? It's me, Doc Mitchell."

"No, I don't remember you."

"Are you sure? You've crashed on that bed there a bunch of times while passing through. I've patched ya up at least a dozen times when you ran into trouble on the road." Jack's face remained puzzled and without a hint of understanding, so Doc said, "Oh, damn it. This isn't as good as I hoped. Well, no sense of keeping you in bed anymore, your body is healed up well enough, let's see if we can get you on your feet."

With the assistance of Doc, Jack stood up and got his balance. It made the receding headache come back full force and his vision went very blurry, but once he was up and his heart was pumping a bit harder it quelled significantly. The doctor put him through about twenty minutes worth of tests, both physical and mental, and although they were annoying and the sad yet hopeful glances he shot at Jack were even more so, afterwards he felt better. His side and chest were a bit bruised and his head still hurt, but the soreness of lying in a bed for days on end was gone.

"Alright, well, I've done all I can do for ya," Doc Mitchell finally said after seemingly ridiculous series of questions. "I guess you can go. You were stripped of your armor before you got here and the clothes you wore under that were coated in dirt, so you can have a new set of clothes. Here are some stimpacks in case your head starts acting up, and the rest of what was on you when you came in." While he talked the Doc was collecting things from around the house and placing them on a table for him. By the time he was done the clothes, the stims, a small and mostly empty sack of caps, a key on a rough cord necklace, a rifle, a pistol and a box of ammo had appeared on the table. "Victor brought your rifle in a little while after you, but all the ammo is gone so I guess you can have this old pistol and some rounds if you want. If you get hurt you can come right on back, for what you've done for Goodsprings and what you've gone through you get free treatments whenever you need."

Greatful for the generosity but still wanting to get out of the unnerving house, Jack put on the dusty clothes. He grabbed the rifle, which he immediately recognized through whatever was holding his mind back, the 9mm with its small box of ammo from the Doc, and with a mumbled thanks went on his way. When he was outside he set the holster for the 9mm, which felt off for some reason like it was too light, slung the brush gun over his shoulder by the strap and headed towards the saloon. He wasn't sure how he knew his way around, but he did know that it was where he usually stopped. Looking behind him, he saw the familiar house that he had been to plenty of times before. It jarred his memory a little, and a few recollections of walking over the threshold and being happy to see the Doc passed through his mind, but thats all, just a few vague memories. It frustrated Jack. Now, after running out of the place as fast as he could, he remembered the Doc was a friend and a good man.

At the saloon he received a warm welcome from two women, Trudy and Sunny, and a dog named Cheyenne. He tried a little harder this time not to offend them as they were probably his friends. Trudy offered him a glass of wine, apparently his favorite, on the house and they sat down at the bar. When he told them he didn't really remember much of anything they were shocked and started filling him in on stuff he had done. He noticed three already empty beer bottles by where Sunny had been sitting and therefore wasn't sure exactly how much of what she said was actually true. According to them he traveled a lot and stopped in when he was nearby. He had once rallied the town against a gang and then taken out three of the five members on his own. He had save one of the other residents from being eaten by geckos as well.

"Wow, there is a lot I'm missing." He thought for a moment and took a sip from his glass. "Wait, do I have, uh, a girlfriend or... Oh crap, do I have a wife and kids to get back to?" He looked expectantly at Trudy but Sunny burst out laughing before she could say anything. Trudy had difficulty stifling a smile as well, and finally he said, "What? What's so funny?"

"You? Wife and kids? Ha!," Sunny stopped for a second to laugh some more. "Not unless you found 'true love' in the month since you were last here. You were, lets say, withdrawn when it came to women. You turned down a roll in the hay with me and some other single ladies, and from the rumors a few married ones, around here because you kept saying you didn't want a 'one night stand.' You were 'waiting for the one' you always said, and you somehow spotted the ones who tried it just for a chance at your caps. Now, don't get me wrong, if any man deserves it it's you, but true love isn't a realistic goal in the wasteland. I've been picking on you for it for years now."

There was a moment of silence before Trudy said, "Wow, your laying it on a bit thick, there, aren't you Sunny?"

"Maybe, but this might be the only chance I have to talk some sense into him. Most men would have taken me up on the quickie, and he didn't, so there was obviously something wrong with him."

Seeing it was obviously the alcohol talking, Jack didn't comment on the last remark. Taking the opportunity to talk, Jack said, "Well, I can understand my previous reasonings, so I think I'll stick with them. Anyway, moving on, do you two know anything about the men that shot me? I really want to pay them a visit."

Trudy said, "Well I don't know for certain their the one's who shot you, but three men came through here just after you left going the opposite way. One had a checkered suit on and the other two were Great Khans, does that sound like them?"

"Yeah, that's them. Did they say where they were going?"

"No, but it sounded like they came from Quarry junction. They left town going south."

"Okay, thanks. Also, I need some ammo for my rifle, where can I get some?"

Trudy looked at him funny, the shook her head as if to shake away a fly and said, "Jack, you really seam just like your old self. For a second I forgot your memory was gone. See Chet next door for the ammo, and here," she reached behind the counter and pulled out three bottles of water, "take these with you, and your first drink is free the next time you come around, and you had better come back from this, you here me?" The motherly bartender sounded stern, but her expression spoke only worry.

"I will, Trudy," he said. He got up to leave and was almost at the door when he turned and said, "So, I get it that I don't have anyone to get home too, but where do I live?"

"Well, you never really said and we all assumed you didn't have any one place to live. You once told me that Goodsprings felt like home to you, but really you lived on the road."

"Alright. Again, thank you."