"It was a crude sentiment, I know, but the point had to be made," Lucky said. She let out a sigh and with the familiar regretful nostalgia exuding from her silence she began again. "You looked like I felt in my darkest moment. After Dad. After what I'd seen. After what I'd done to end his suffering. But what of my own?
I sat there for hours staring at him. Picture a girl, who had died, not once, but twice in their short life. She had been condemned from conception. The only thing remaining was the dripping blood running through her fingers, staining her bandages till they fused like a cast. I hated him. I truly hated him. Maybe less than I had myself. I was guilty of putting him through those paces.
I fell apart. Fell to my knees before him. I couldn't live with it. I put his gun to my head. I didn't close my eyes. There were no apologies. He didn't. I didn't. I'd lost it. I couldn't accept it. There was nothing there anymore. I'd lost everyone. The young one and the old."
Boone heard a gun's slide clicking and froze. It wasn't the .44. No, it was the .45 she kept in a shoulder holster. The sound was distinct in fashion. The whole damn weapon was an oddity and just as inaccessible to handling as her revolver. She'd only let him see it once. It was beautiful in construction and engraved with foreign characters.
He'd asked her where she'd gotten it and all she did was smile and say that it was a gift from someone she'd saved. "Their light shining in darkness."
"I don't know what stayed my hand. I just couldn't do it. And I carry that heavy scar with me. Was it cowardice that stopped me? I couldn't tell you.
But when I saw you staring at your gun and saw the way you reacted about Bitter Springs, I knew that you were at least considering it. You are worth more than that. And even if I didn't show it or say it, you gave me something to fight for. I saw a part of myself in you. Your past: Carla. The Baby. What the Legion had taken from you."
Boone smirked softly and sat by the fire. Lucky stared into the blaze and threw her lit cigarette in. They both tip-toed around conversation. Mouths would open to speak, but silence was the only thing uttered. He looked to the graveyard. All those bodies, the young and the old. What if he could have stopped it? He saw a shadow moving down the canyon towards them. Boone pulled the hammer back on his gun and saw the little orb of ED-E zooming towards them.
Lucky glanced at the bot and poked a stick into the smoldering embers. ED-E squawked and shimmied nervously. She looked at her Pip-Boy and bit her lower lip. Boone heard twigs snapping in the distance and grabbed his rifle from beside him. He peered through the scope and saw crimson glowing faintly in the moonlight. He held his breath. Anger, frustration, the whole gambit of emotions stirred in him. This was exactly what he was waiting for.
"Legion's here," he uttered with a sharp point of his finger.
"Huh? No kidding," Lucky said nonchalantly. She pulled her .44 and dislodged the cylinder. She eyed the rounds and with satisfaction latched it closed again. "What are we waiting for?"
Her eyes narrowed on him. She knew exactly what he was going to do and she had no problem being dragged along for the ride.
"This was exactly what I was waiting for," he answered back. "I'll go through the pass. You flank."
"Got it," she replied with a nod. Boone hurried past her. "Just be careful."
Boone didn't answer, but he felt the sentiment. He couldn't say that he would. This was his way to make amends for everything. Maybe wipe the slate clean. He knew he couldn't change what he'd done, but this was a start. If he died in the process, even better. He'd be remembered for his valiant sacrifice for the refugees. Not for Bitter Springs or failing Carla or that this run was more or less an assisted suicide, allowing his body to catch up with what was already dead inside.
He hurried along the vacant path, the ghosts of the dead never speaking out against the former NCR soldier. Utter silence filled the red canyon till he saw the first inklings of firelight. He had just enough time to zero his scope when he heard the first sounds of gunfire and people screaming. Soldiers hurried from the tents and hid behind barricades as he came out from behind the rusted, corrugated steel building and honed in on the first sporting equipment clad man he saw.
He held his breath and fired once watching the perfect spray of blood and his target's head snapping back as the bullet made impact. He darted from cover to cover, listening to strange whistle of plasma weapon fire off. Green balls flew threw the air and he knew they were coming from Arcade; it was the only weapon he used and one of the only people in the group – apparently – to have one. He made it to one of the sand bag barricades and saw Lucky crouched down behind a burned out husk of a car.
She gave him a look and then turned her attention to ED-E who was bobbing beside her. He looked through his scope and saw her speaking to the bot. She nodded her head in the sniper's direction and the eyebot zoomed as fast as it could past him and to the second opening to the camp. He saw Arcade give the floating trash can an apprehensive look and took his place along the opening.
He heard footsteps running towards him and saw Lucky in a full sprint in his direction. She ran up beside him and placed herself behind the barricade. She was out of breath, her thoughts spread elsewhere as she dropped her empty casings beside her and rapidly reloaded the cylinder. She flicked her wrist and slammed it shut. She didn't say anything, nor look at her friend; she just stayed focused on staying alive.
"You hurt?" he asked.
She just shook her head and reached into her pants pocket. She pulled out a stimpak and placed it beside him. She stuck her head from cover and fired as the second wave of Legionaries came around the corner. The fought hard, taking down many of them before Lucky moved from cover again.
"We need to move," she ordered.
She hurried into the camp and Boone saw her come to a dead stop. He heard barking and knew the dogs were coming. Lucky had froze up just by the sound of them. Boone saw the attack dogs coming and knew she wasn't going to be able to do anything. He fired at the dogs and felled them before making his way to the main camp. Lucky was nearly unhinged when she came up to them. She hunted the enemy between the tents as terrified refugees ran for cover.
Boone saw one coming up behind her and fired at the same time a spray of blood splashed his face. He saw Lucky and the body of a man laying at his feet. She had saved him from an execution-style attack and he grew angry. She shouldn't have done it. This is what he had been waiting for. Damn her for doing this to him. She didn't even look amused by what she had done, she just kept going until she had to feed her weapon again.
Automatic fire echoed, screams escaped into the night like a phantom. It felt like it wasn't going to end. Boone saw Lucky motioning to the NCR soldiers. Signals of counts. Three. Two. One. They kept firing and between volleys, she edged her way toward the remaining Legionary. Through his scope he saw her soothing herself. She looked up to the night sky and nodded. She came from cover and stopped. He waited for the apportioned shot from her gun, but he heard nothing.
Soldiers filed down the narrow canyon and stopped behind her. The person she was drawing on was instantly dog piled and detained. Lucky pulled the helm from the man and gave an almost stunned reaction. The two stared at each other, neither uttering a word between them before the POW was hauled away.
Lucky holstered her weapon and walked back to the camp. Arcade and the camp's doctor were speaking as they triaged the refugees. Boone slung his rifle over his shoulder, a strange look of satisfaction crept across his friend's face. She lit a cigarette and nodded.
"Why?" Boone asked when she stopped in front of him to look him over.
Lucky's eyes scanned him intently for a few moments. She squinted her eyes and took a drag from her cigarette.
"I couldn't let you die," she uttered softly.
"I had promised myself that I'd protect you. Keep you from going off the deep end and doing something you'd regret. I had to keep you alive. Don't ask why. My reasons are irrelevant," Lucky explained in a cold dismissive tone.
Boone didn't say anything. He just looked at her; her blue eyes shimmered, whether from pain or smoke getting in her eyes, he couldn't say. She just looked sad. Her hand came up as if to put her hand on his shoulder. Maybe to show that she was relieved that she had kept her promise for this round in the fighting, but she stopped. It wasn't hesitation. It was like her temperament kept her from doing it. Her hand dropped back to her side and she finished her cigarette.
"Lucky," Arcade called from the open door of the infirmary. "We could use your help."
Her shoulders slumped and she turned to head up for what they both knew were injuries sustained in the firefight. The two walked up the stairs, spatters of blood blanketed the ground. It soaked into the wooden ties that made the stairs and fed the brown dirt with its own rendition. Boone heard the commanding officer barking at the prisoner. Lucky didn't divide her attention.
He felt her become more distant as they walked into the make-shift surgical hospital. People sat on the floor and those that couldn't were laid out on operating tables. Refugees and NCR soldiers alike shared their pain in that canvas enclosed space. Lucky wiped the sweat from her brow and approached where Arcade and the camp's surgeon were.
Boone didn't want to get any closer. He didn't need to see it.
"This one's got a gaping wound. Probably from a machete," the doctor explained.
Lucky let out a sigh and pulled on a pair of rubber gloves and put a bandana over her face. She slid them over her leather ones and reached into a doctor's bag. She pulled out a syringe and leaned in close to the patient.
"We'll get you taken care of," she assured the woman on the table. "I'm going to give you something to sleep, alright?"
Her voice was soft, almost like she was talking to a child. He watched her work for only a few moments before the blood began to drop to the ground at her feet. He felt himself getting lightheaded. Time seemed to slow and the world revolved around him faster and harder than he wanted. He wanted off the ride, but he couldn't stop watching, seeing her hands move delicately over the torn flesh. She called Arcade over and asked for her to get her book from her pack. He hurried across the tent and brought a heavy bound book and placed it beside her. Her fingers skimmed down the page. Small droplets dribbled from the glove, but she didn't stop. She returned to her work without a word and the two doctors ground on, handing surgical tools to each other.
"You could help me with the less injured," Arcade said. "We could use it. Leave the doctors' to their work."
"I didn't know she was one," Boone replied as he knelt beside the older man.
"Technically, she's not. She has no formal training from the Followers or the NCR," Arcade continued as he wrapped a little boy's arm in gauze. "Relatives taught her some. The rest – I'm guessing – she learned on the road."
"You know an awful lot about her," Boone prodded.
Arcade's head drooped slightly at the inference, but plastered a fake smile on to soothe the boy.
"More than I care to admit. And it's not that I necessarily know her. I knew of her. I knew her family more," Arcade muttered as they made their way to the next patient in line. He placed his hand on the man's forehead and gave Boone a glance. "Why don't you ask her? Though I doubt she'd tell you anything."
"So you know about her?" Boone pressed further.
"Only things I can surmise. She's not that forthcoming with the details, and that's probably a good thing," Arcade answered. The two of them looked back at the doctors and Arcade let out a sigh. "You should probably get some rest, they'll be going at it all night at this rate."
Boone shrugged. The nagging pull of sleep was the furthest thing from his mind. Even though his body agreed with the sentiment, he couldn't conceive of resting. Not with a Legionary in the camp or the shed tears of the injured. He gave Lucky a look and saw she had been stitching her patient's abdomen up. Her white shirt was covered in blood; she was standing in a pool of it, but she remained unphased even though the view made the sniper's insides turn in knots.
He exited the tent and stood with the remaining soldier's for a bit. They spoke with utter relief about surviving the gun battle, but it was always a restrained relief with their comrades injured. It teetered on the juxtaposition. They all saw him and thanked him for the help. He didn't want their thanks. He just wanted something; anything in comparison to this. He walked down the trail to where he'd first scene Lucky. There wasn't anything else he could do.
"I couldn't let you die."
The words reverberated in him. It was there. A warmth that he hadn't seen in her and yet it was veiled in the icy shadow of her past. Why couldn't she tell him? She was willing to go out of her way to keep him alive for some God awful selfish reason, but she couldn't give a little of herself up to him. It didn't seem fair, it didn't seem right. Maybe he really didn't want to know that much, just something. Something that made him understand where she was going and who she was.