It was uneventful for most of the evening. She tried not to make noise, sat and chewed thoughtfully on some jerky, willing her stomach not to flutter from the tension. He was in his own little world, and she didn't want to intrude. Finally, she slept, and around two in the morning, he woke her up.
"Something's wrong. Got a group coming our way. Looks like a Legion raiding party. It's big." He paused and scanned the distance. "It might be too big."
"Why would they come here?" she scrabbled to get herself up and armed.
"Easy target for grabbing slaves. Bunch of refugees, just a few soldiers defending it." He grinned a little, and she raised an eyebrow. "I don't think they're here for us. Too bad. Would've made me feel good about myself."
Bonnie forced a little laugh, almost inaudible. He was right about looking for death, she thought.
"I'm not going to ask you to stay," he started to say.
"Oh, no way! You are not killing Legionaries without me," she declared. Her voice was more confident than her stomach. Goddamn gecko jerky.
Boone looked at her and said, " That day you showed up in Novac, I had a feeling I was supposed to go with you. That it was time to end all this. And know I know."
"Save it," she said, checking her pistol ammo and pocketing her brass knuckles. "It's not a swan song, yet." She adjusted her armor a bit, trying to get her confidence up. "Besides," she added, "I'm the one who's good at dying."
She jumped down from the ridge and sprinted across to the rocks overlooking the recreation area, and saw what Boone was talking about. Oh, fuck me, she thought, and shivers ran up and down her sides. Fucking Legion mongrels.
She swallowed her fear as best she could and shot down into the group, aiming for the dogs first. Her hands shook but she did her best. Boone picked up the leftovers, dispatching the Legion recruits with aplomb.
The first group used up her pistol ammo, so she discarded it on the rocks and pulled her knuckles out. Brawls are always better, she thought, when one has an object of persuasion in one's fingers.
The camp itself was the next battleground. Screams echoed in the darkness, bouncing off the rock walls. She ran up the hill, losing Boone in the fray, but aimed for the first thing she saw―a mongrel, and there were more of them, and she nearly panicked. She put the first one down with a heavy-handed blow, rather pleased with herself. The second grabbed her wrist in its mouth, while she was distracted, and she shrieked. She punched it in the face until it let go, then kicked it until it stopped moving.
Legionaries ran by her. One was immediately shot down―she guessed by Boone― and she snatched up a gun and loaded it, then moved back out into the action.
Neatly taking out a Legionary crouched behind a tent, she looked around for the next target. She still didn't see Boone anywhere, but if he was going to be shooting for accuracy, he'd want to be up higher, on the rocks above.
The adrenaline was coursing through her system now. There was a lull in the attack, and she didn't take any opportunity to pause, running back to the entrance of the camp where she could see all the places they might come from. More came from the road, streaming into the camp like a river over rocks.
A shot whizzed by her head, ricocheting off the rock wall beside her, and she felt chips graze her face. She returned fire until her ammo was gone, then tossed away the gun and launched herself at the nearest Legionary with her brass knuckles.
The impact knocked them both down the steep hill leading to the camp. When they came to a stop, she began striking him from above, venting all the rage she'd kept pent up.
Her luck with the Legion, however, was entirely shit, because he managed to turn her around and pinned her to the ground. He began punching her in the face, mercilessly. She yelled in pain.
It was over immediately, with an explosion of skull bone, blood and brain matter.
Bonnie laid on the ground for a moment, exhausted. Her nose was bleeding, and she could feel her eye swelling. She pushed the body of the dead Legionary off her, then struggled to her feet. Slowly, she made her way back up to the camp, feeling the blood on her hands beginning to dry. She didn't see any more Legionaries, but she was still on alert when Boone appeared behind her.
She jumped in alarm and struck out instinctively. The blow landed on a shoulder―she was tired and he sidestepped―but she was horrified when she realized she'd actually tried to attack him. Shit!
He just stood there, without expression, as always. I should have "lost" his damn sunglasses.
"Well, we made it through," she offered, weakly. The pain in her face was blooming into a much larger headache. She noticed he had a machete wound on his arm.
"Doesn't change the past," he muttered, darkly. "A murderer who does good deeds is still a murderer. And he'll still get his judgment."
"It does change the present, and how much life you have yet to live." She touched her nose. "These people are now out of danger, and can live that much more."
He was quiet. She took the moment to sit down, and removed her knuckles.
"Life has a way of punishing you for the mistakes you make. Big enough mistake, punishment can take a while." He looked down at her. "I've got bad things coming to me. You'd better keep your distance, too. Been happening to you."
Coated in Legion blood, in the aftermath of an unsuccessful raid, and having been branded by their frumentarii, she began laughing a high-pitched titter of disbelief.
"You are the only person in this fucked-up world I can trust to blame himself for my own utter stupidity!" She held her side in pain, laughing. When she finally quelled her laughter, she held out her hand to him. He took it, and she stood up. "No more, Craig. You don't get to blame yourself for bad shit that happens. It would have happened to me, just like it happened to you, whether or not we crossed paths."
He was still holding her hand, looking like he was lost in thought, and she pulled it away. She pocketed the brass knuckles and strode off to locate her pistol. She retrieved more ammo and guns, then bashed in a few heads, for good measure. When she returned to the camp, he was where she'd left him.
His arm was still bleeding, so she found some bandages and came back. Pouring a little water over his arm, and wiping it clean, she saw the cut wasn't nearly as deep as it looked. She wrapped it, then secured it and released him. "Let's get the hell out of here, huh?" she asked.
He stalked off, not saying a word. "Okay," she said. "Not sure what you're doing, but I'll be over here," she called.
She used the rest of the water to clean her face of blood, dabbing at it gently. Her eye was blackening, she was sure, but her nose didn't appear to be broken. It was swollen and in pain, though. She noticed a few tears in her armor, too, and swore. Goddammit, this is why I can't have nice things. She wished she were back at the Lucky 38. Her old bullet wound began to throb.
And that is a whole other can of beans I still have to tackle. Walking into that camp would be impossible with Boone around, and she didn't know that she wanted to go. But the platinum chip...
Filled with anger, she punched the nearest wall, and then pulled her hand away, swearing up and down. Ohhh, that was such a bad idea!
"Save it for the Legion," Boone said, walking up behind her.
"So I'm allowed to be around you, now?" she snapped at him.
"That... wasn't what I meant to say," he replied, embarrassed. "I'm the one following you, anyway."
"Well, with that piece of inanity out of the way, I'm off to see Markland and maybe get some free doctoring." She shook her hand. "I hope I didn't break anything." She started to walk away, but he stopped her.
"Listen, Bonnie," he said, "I'm not the best at talking―"
She shot him an agonized look. "You can make your admission, later, can't you? Seriously, my hand." She waved it at him, her knuckles turning purple.
He grabbed her wrist and pulled her to him, wrapped his other arm around her back, and kissed her.
She was mildly surprised. If I wasn't so beat up, bloodied and otherwise disinclined... He held her very tightly. She started thinking about Motor-Runner, and tears sprang to her eyes again.
"Boone, let me go," she pushed him away and broke the embrace. She walked off to the medical tent, wiping her face. She felt ashamed, she'd destroyed such a nice thing because she couldn't push back the memories of her attack.
She practically fell into the medical tent, and Dr. Markland gave her some very scathing looks when it came to her hand. "I expect this sort of shenanigans from troopers," he said. "From what I hear, you don't need any more help getting hurt."
She tried to laugh but it didn't work, all she could feel were hands around her neck and a pressure that she couldn't shake off. She passed out in the chair, from the adrenaline rush, the exhaustion of fighting hand to hand, from everything that she had been trying to keep in while out in the wasteland.
When she woke, she still held onto some of the terror, but her nose and eye felt better, and she sat up groggily. Boone was waiting by the bed, and she grimaced.
Markland checked her eyes and flicked her in the nose, then declared her, "Fit to go, get out."
As she and Boone walked back down to the road and away from Bitter Springs, he moved closer to her and said, "I'm keeping count."
She was pulled roughly from her own internal ass-kicking. "Of what," she asked.
"The crying."
She huffed. "It's not really something I'm trying to draw attention to," she snapped.
"Good," he said, walking down past her and into the lead. "I like you better when you're angry."
She stopped, and then took quick steps to catch up. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"
"Whatever you think it does," he answered, calmly.
She didn't know what to think. The wasteland is challenging enough without having to play games, she thought. Not that she hadn't played games; it was a staple of her repertoire to talk her way out of situations. Especially since I can't shoot my way out, like he can.
"Are we alright, here?" she asked, after half an hour of traveling.
He made a noise, and she realized he'd laughed. "It's like you said," he turned to face her. "We're a hell of a pair, Bonnie."
A corner of her mouth twitched. "Won't win at poker, maybe."
"But we will bankrupt the house," he added.
She let loose a laugh, then grabbed her ribs again. "Dammit." She let out a sigh. All the tension was gone, she felt. "So, let's go over to Camp Golf and say hello," she said.
"I was there before," he mentioned.
"Camp Golf?" she asked, stepping around a prickly pear.
"First R econ was stationed there."
"What was that like?"
He pulled his rifle and shot at a mole rat snuffling in the distance. "It was on the front line for a while. Only resort in New Vegas no one wanted to get sent to."
"Yeah," she said, gazing up across the water to the heavily fortified hill above the Dam. "I can see that." She stopped at the sandbags around Camp Golf and adjusted her haversack. "Do you ever think about what it would be like, if you'd stayed in the military after Bitter Springs?"
"I'd be dead," he said bluntly, hopping the barrier.
She looked out over the water again. The sun was rising just over the horizon, and everything had a strange quality to it in the morning light. She hopped over the sandbags and walked with him into Camp Golf. She scouted for someone to sell her something, but no one could help her.
"Well, I think I made a friend with that guy," she said, pointing up at the troopers outside the firing range. "But other than that, this part of the trip was somewhat useless."
They went west toward the highway. She started down an incline, stumbled, landed on her ass. "Not having a good day so far," she muttered.
"How long have you been a courier?" Boone asked, offhand.
"Too long," she said. Then, after a moment of thinking, "About ten years, I think. I'm not really into the whole New Vegas scene. Most of my jobs were around the mountains as a mail courier."
"Will you go back to that?"
She stopped walking. "Probably not." She turned to face the highway, and her mouth thinned into a deep frown. "If I don't get that chip back, I'm not going to have the option."
She walked toward the highway. He kept pace. The Mojave had left an indelible mark on her, and she didn't think it was only the branded bull. The whole area was a paradise of pain and suffering, pushing her to her limits, making her something more than just a nobody from Northstar.
She might go back there, one day. But not until she was certain how things would play out here.
She headed south on the highway toward Boulder City. She stopped to buy ammo at 188, then followed the road to the ruins, admiring the wholesale destruction of the town. A soldier was perusing the monument at the center of the town, she stepped past him to find someone in charge.
Near a wooden barricade, she was stopped by an officer. "Lieutenant Monroe," he identified himself. "Best to keep walking, ma'am. Nothing left here except a few troopers and some rubble."
"No problem," she said. "What's going on in there, though?"
"Some Great Khans holed up in here," he said, cautiously. "Nothing we can't handle."
She thought it over for a moment. "I'm actually looking for a group of Great Khans," she mentioned. "In connection with a man who shot me in the head." She pushed her hair behind her ear.
He eyed her warily. "And you are?" he asked.
"Name's McCrae."
Monroe's expression softened. "I've heard that name around."
"Wouldn't be a surprise," she muttered. For the love of―did Colonel Hsu spread that around like a gossipy housewife? "Look, is there any way I can talk to these guys?"
He shook his head. "There's Khans in the ruins, yes, but they're holding NCR troopers hostage. So far, we haven't had much luck getting anywhere with them. Command ordered us to eliminate them, but we can't draw them out into the open."
"And if you go in, they'll kill the hostages?" He nodded. She shot a look at the gate. "Why not let me go in? I can talk to them as a neutral person, an outsider. If they are the Khans I'm looking for, they'll be thrown off guard. Then I can negotiate."
He mulled it over. "I suppose," he said. "I want those troopers out alive."
She agreed. She and Boone passed through the gate. Inside, NCR troopers were in position around a small house in the wreckage.
Bonnie turned to Boone. "I want you to stay here," she said.
"Why?" he asked.
"Because Khans dislike First Recon more than any other NCR."
He conceded. "I'll sit tight."
She entered the small house, shutting the door quietly behind her. Two Khans were standing directly behind the counter ahead of her. One jumped in surprise at seeing her. "You're supposed to be dead!" he said.
"Apparently, I ain't," she said, wryly.
"Fuck," he said, his eyes as wide as a brahmin's backside.
"What's going on here," she said, "is that I am going to help you, in exchange for some information."
"How can you help? There's a trap out there, waiting to swallow us whole."
She smiled. "You underestimate me," she said. He said nothing. "If you agree to release the hostages, I will speak to Monroe and get you peacefully away from here."
He talked it over with the other Khan, then turned to her. "Alright."
"I also want to know why you were helping Benny get that chip from me."
"That," he snarled. "Fuck him, man. He left us here. Said he was gonna take over Vegas with that thing, then fucking abandoned us to the NCR. I knew the money was too good."
She had thought as much. The Khans were notably tough, but weren't complicated. "You do agree to let the troopers go?" she asked.
"If you get us out," he said, "you can have them."
She left and went back up to Monroe. "They want safe passage from the ruins, but they have agreed to let the hostages go."
"And you trust them?" he asked. "I have to take them out. Orders are very specific." He gave her a dubious look.
"If you want to maintain this negative reputation that the NCR has with the Khans, by all means, go ahead. Especially after what happened at Bitter Springs," she said. "Otherwise, I suggest you uphold a moral stance and let them walk away. Giving those Khans a reason to doubt the NCR is out for their blood is only the beginning of thawing that political iceberg."
He let out a long sigh. "Very well," he said. "It's a deal."
Bonnie went back into the house and personally escorted both the NCR and the Khans away from it. Boone joined back up with her after they were out of the gate.
"Went well?" he asked.
"Peaceful as could be," she said. "Now I need to go back to the Lucky 38 and speak with House. Benny really was trying to take over Vegas."
"Back to the Strip, then."
"Unless you want to storm the fort now," she snorted. "And I somehow doubt we will come out of that one alive."
His face set grimly. "All I need is my rifle."
"Yeah, I know," she said. "But you said before, I need practice, and a better weapon. So, we go to Vegas, then I get some lessons."
She looked at New Vegas. From this distance, you could barely see it, but it was still there, looming in the sky. The Lucky 38, bigger than life, and inside it, the creator of New Vegas, waiting for the final piece of his puzzle. She didn't know if she could unlock it.
But she might try.