Back at the Lucky 38, Bonnie went to talk to House. Benny had indeed been a protege of his, and had aspired to take control of Vegas. "Kind of like his second in command," she told Boone, later. "And he decided that New Vegas would be better with House gone."
"So how did he find out about the chip?"
"I'm not sure. House wouldn't have given that information out, you would think." She gathered up some things and stuffed them into her haversack. "I need to fix my armor again," she announced. "I'm going to count up the caps and see where we stand."
He went off into the suite, and she heard water running. She poured her money out onto the table in the kitchen and began counting. When Boone returned, he had changed clothing. He was wearing some kind of NCR outfit with a bandoleer and First Recon patches on the arms.
"I like that," she said, offhand. "What made you decide to change?"
"Seems the right time for it," he said. He sat down beside her, flicking a piece of scrap metal away. She was aware of a pleasant warmth coming from him.
"I have about eight hundred," she said, "counting this NCR money, but it doesn't go nearly as far as caps do. I'll get my armor fixed first, then I'll look for another weapon."
"You did okay with the cowboy repeater, back there," he said.
She made a face. "My mom was a teacher. I know more about science and the mechanics of guns than how to shoot them," she said. "I don't think she wanted me to ever learn."
"You'll learn."
She scratched her head, and pulled away some flecks of blood. "I'm going to take a bath. Give me a shout if you think of anything."
When she came back, freshly cleaned of as much blood as she could get out from under her fingernails, she sat down again and opened her Pip-Boy menu to the map. "So, where's a good place to go shooting?" she asked the room in general.
Boone reached over and pulled her arm in front of him, then asked her how to zoom in. She showed him, and he brought up a spot north of Vegas, to the west. "Lots of bighorners up that way," he said.
"Okay." She felt tired, all of a sudden. "Let's stay here, tonight. We'll head out tomorrow morning."
She retired to the master bedroom, and sat on the floor near her gun case. She pulled the repeater from the haversack, and examined it. It needed a lot of work to get it back up to speed. She put away her tiny pistol, then pulled out some weird energy pistol she'd picked up. She was staring at it, trying to remember where she'd picked it up, when Boone knocked on the door.
"Thank you for taking me to Bitter Springs," he said. "Things seem... clearer now."
"No problem," she said, distracted. Where did I pick that gun up from?
"You didn't have to help. It means a lot to have someone looking out for you."
She looked up at him, exasperated. "You told me, you don't have anyone else. I don't, either."
He nodded. "I guess we're better company for each other than our own selves."
"I hope that is true," she said, and put the guns away, closing the case. "It's reassuring to have someone watching your back." He stood there, not moving. Speeding things up, she asked, "Was there something else?"
He looked conflicted. "Not sure how to say it."
She stood, smiling to herself. I got warning this time, she thought. She watched him carefully, wondering yet again what was going through that rock tumbler of a mind.
"I don't want you to think I'm being pushy," he said, after a time.
"Why would I think that," she said. "You haven't asked for anything, at all."
He moved closer to her, and leaned so his mouth was near her ear. "Because I want to hold you," he said.
She blinked. I told you so, that little voice came from the back of her head. She kicked it away. "You want a... hug?" she asked, confused. Goddammit. I missed that completely. Why are things so complicated, sometimes?
"I've been lonely a long time," he said. "I don't... want to hurt anybody."
"I trust you won't," she said, gently, and leaned into him. "I don't think a hug would hurt either one of us."
He put his arms around her, and she felt good for the first time in a long time. It was a hard, desperate hug for her, rough around the edges but entirely satisfying. Good God, he's so warm, she thought.
"Your arm isn't infected, is it?" she asked, thinking about that. She ran a hand down to the bandage. The area wasn't any more hot than the rest of him.
He shuddered. "I didn't mean to―" she pulled away a bit, but he crushed her back to him. "Oof!"
It seemed like it lasted forever. She wasn't uncomfortable, but she wasn't doing the hugging herself, so she was basically trapped. Yet it wasn't the same as at Bitter Springs, or any other time she'd been pinned. She could get out of this one anytime she wanted.
Stupid Bonnie.
She punched her brain back into submission. Think straight. If you get involved, there's all kinds of horrible things that can happen. You have to go into that fort to get that chip. He'll die.
She sucked in a sharp breath, and pushed him back a little. "Are you okay, Craig?" she asked.
He didn't saying anything for a moment. "Don't know," he said.
She touched his shoulder. "I think you should go to sleep," she said. "In the morning, we'll go up to the mountain and you can teach me how to shoot."
He looked defeated, and slunk away to the other bedroom. She sat on the bed and cracked her neck.
This is... interesting, she thought. Not that I noticed, but now there is a whole new layer of him to unpeel. Wait and see, I guess.
She curled up under the sheets and sang a song inside her head, willing herself to sleep.
The next afternoon, Bonnie was developing an active hate for all things cazador. She didn't know how people managed to thrive in the desert, with these monsters flapping and chattering about the sands. I want to take dynamite and stick it into every nest I can find, she grumbled to herself.
"Are we clear?" she shouted to Boone. They were hotfooting it down the highway to the west, trying to outrun two of the fucking things.
He started running backwards, shooting at them. She swore. Alright, then, she thought, let's do this.
She pulled out her repeater and turned, bracing herself. Without aiming, she loosed seven rounds into the closest cazador. A lot of the shots didn't hit, but she did manage to cripple its wings. She reloaded and swung the repeater around to the other cazador.
It was almost on top of Boone. She fired wildly at it, trying to buy him some time to get back.
Boone backed up, grunting in pain, firing at it.
She reloaded again, and took down the crippled cazador. Boone had killed the other by the time she was done.
He stalked over to her and knocked the repeater right out of her hands. "The next time you shoot at me, you'd damn well better miss!" he yelled, angrily. He stomped off a distance down the road and surveyed the road.
She retrieved her repeater and reloaded slowly. Taking a deep breath, she exhaled slowly. Well. I guess that was bound to happen. She took a moment to compose herself, then joined him.
"Craig?" she asked, softly. He grunted. "I'm sorry," she said. "Are you injured?"
"Just a graze," he muttered.
"I really do need practice," she said.
"Yes," he agreed. He pointed to the south, up a hill. "That way."
They walked up the steep road, avoiding the landslides. The area was very pretty, and very green, with tall pine trees that obscured the distance. Boone lead her up onto an outcropping of rock and crouched down. She did the same.
"Aim at those bighorners over there," he gestured.
She brought the repeater up and aimed.
"When you have the time, wait for your shot."
She watched the animal grazing. It looked around, lifting it head high. She squeezed the trigger and picked her moment. The bighorner dropped.
"When you don't have that much time, you still need to stay calm and line up your shot." He stood up, grabbing a rock and tossing it at another bighorner. It snorted, reared its head back, and charged.
She aimed, but the bounding animal was confusing her, through the sight. She lost her concentration. She aimed lower, shot off a few rounds. It stopped and shook itself, then continued charging.
"Shoot!" he ordered.
She aimed and fired. It dropped.
Boone looked at her with a funny expression. "Why can't you shoot like that?"
She laid the repeater across her knees, and sat back on her heels. Guess I should fess up.
"My dad was in the NCR," she began. "I used to ask him every day to teach me how to shoot. When he finally gave in, well..." She snorted. "I guess he didn't want me joining up. I was lead to believe I was a fair shot."
And when I tried to join up after Mom got married, did I ever get a surprise. She sighed.
"He died fighting the Legion," she murmured. "Bet he's rolling in his grave."
"I'll bet," he echoed, his voice distant.
The wind picked up and blew crisply over the mountains. She listened to the sounds the tree made, felt the wind on her face. She wasn't cold, but she shivered.
They spent the afternoon wandering through the mountains, looking for targets. Under Boone's direction, she was accurate more often than not. She started feeling very hopeful for her continued survival.
They ate pinyon nuts and steak at a makeshift campfire. She unwrapped his arm bandage and left it off. It was healing well. She wondered what part of him she'd shot. He didn't have any obvious wounds. She was afraid to ask.
While they enjoyed the fresh air, the light began to go. "Camp?" she asked.
He shrugged. She looked to her Pip-Boy. "There's a big crater up at the end of this road," she said. "I heard a rumor about a settlement of Super Mutants around the area. Maybe we should check that out."
"Rather take my chances in the open. Let's not risk walking into another death trap," Boone said.
She looked at him in the fading light. He was sitting on a rock, rifle across his back, looking at the remains of the campfire. Okay, not pushing it.
"I think I saw a mine back there," she said, looking at her map again. "We can backtrack to it."
She walked back up to the road and looked around in the dusk. She wondered why he was testy now. Steps behind her made her tense up. She adjusted her pack and fell in step with him back down the road.
She eyed the shack. "I don't know about this," she said. "Got a bad feeling."
He opened the door and left her behind. She stayed outside, feeling the cold creeping up on her. Dammit. I really wanted to check out that rumor. She walked into the shack and put her haversack on the table.
The night was uneventful, other than the occasional rustling of the trees and some noises she suspected were more cazadors.
When she woke, she'd been grinding her teeth, and her jaw hurt. She took a shot of whiskey and whistled her way out of the shack. They made their way down off the mountain and onto the road toward Westside. She was in a good mood, humming music to herself, no sign of any cazadors.
Boone didn't speak until they made it into Westside. "Now that you've gotten some lessons, are you planning to take on the Fort?"
She dropped the water bottle that she had been drinking, and swallowed hard. Oh, damn. No wonder he was so irritable up there. ...I wanted to have this conversation somewhere else, and a long time from now, she thought.
"When I go," she said, "I think it might be best just to get in and out as quickly as possible."
"You won't go, then." He came abreast of her and walked beside her, uncomfortably close. She wished she was wearing a hood, to pull down over her eyes.
She stopped, turned to face him and held her hands out. "Now, listen, Craig―"
"It's one thing to go in there, guns blazing," he said, growing angrier. "It's a whole different thing to play up to that goddamn bastard. You try to reason with them, they don't like it, you'll end up halfway across Arizona before anyone knows what the hell happened."
"I'm not afraid of them," she said. "I'm not afraid of anything, anymore. And I'm very good at dying." She fought her temper. "I don't want you to go, because I want to do it easy. Is that so hard to understand?"
Boone stood as still as a rock, his face hardened. She turned away, feeling sadness and anger at the same time. She watched two people playing chess, for a moment.
She spoke only when she knew her tongue wouldn't betray her. "I don't want to die," she said, "and I certainly don't want you to, either. I have to complete that delivery, though. Much as you hate the Legion, I'm not making myself an outlaw."
"It's a lot simpler if we just kill them all."
"Of course that's simpler," she said, frustrated. She threw her hands up and shook them. "You're going into that idea assuming that we'll either die, or come out in a blaze of glory." She started walking towards New Vegas again.
"I came with you, mostly because you promised we could kill Legionaries," he growled.
"Mostly? That was the only reason, Boone, and you know it. I needed an extra gun, you wanted to shoot shit. It worked out." She crossed her arms and bit her cheek.
He didn't answer. She kept walking. "And you know what," she added, turning and waving a finger at him, "I think we are too much alike to get along very well." She stumbled on a rock and fell on one knee, picked herself up. Calm down.
"Calm down," he echoed. She rolled her eyes.
"Look, it's my business. Your business is what you do, but if I ask you to stay behind, you should at least respect that," she huffed, and then sprinted off toward Vegas, not looking to see if he followed her.
Quit being a selfish prick, Bonnie McCrae.