.
"Carla, I'm sorry. Please, just tell me what's wrong."
"What's wrong?' 'What's wrong?' Craig, I can't stand it here. The only person we know… you know is Manny, and he thinks I'm a bitch. I can't talk to anybody without making a fool of myself and… and… what the hell are we doing here? You're hardly getting paid and we're in the middle of nowhere. Why aren't we going to the NCR?"
"You're right, Carla. I'm sorry. I just… I can't go back to the NCR yet. I need some time. We'll make our way there before too long, alright?"
"Craig, the Legion is right across the river and incase you hadn't noticed, the NCR aren't patrolling the road anymore. We can't stay here. It's not safe, and there is no way I am raising…"
"Raising? Raising what? Carla, raising what?"
"I… I think I'm pregnant."
"Oh…"
"Oh?' 'Oh?' Is that all you have to … Wow… ok, that was nice, but a kiss does not make up for-"
"You're right, I know, I'm sorry. I'm sorry we're still in the Mojave, I'm sorry I took you away from your family, and I'm sorry I haven't helped the people around here get to know you. I'll let Manny know we're leaving and give him till the end of the week to find a new guard. After that, we'll join the next caravan headed west and make our way to the border. Before too long we'll make it to the Hub and then… and then we'll decide where to go."
"Craig… I know this is hard for you, but it's what's best for our child… and for me. There are outlier communities in the NCR, and all they have to deal with are raiders – not the Legion. We don't have to stay in one of the big cities I just… I can't stay here."
"I understand. I love you."
"I love you too."
"Can I feel him?
"Can you feel him?' It might not even be a him, and I sincerely doubt there's anything there to feel this early on!"
"No harm in trying, right?"
"I guess… Craig, I really doubt the baby will be that lo- oh…"
"Want me to stop?"
"Not on your life. You keep this up and we might end up with twins."
"I don't think it works like that…"
"Shut up and kiss me."
.
.
"Carla?"
The room was quiet and dark, the only light shinning through the open door behind him. The bed was made, the table set neatly, and freshly folded clothes sat on the dresser.
Something was wrong. Dropping his rifle beside the door, Craig opened the shades on the window and let sunlight stream into the room. A small note was folded on the bed. Picking it up, he read it silently.
"Dear Boone,
I'm sorry it must be this way, but I'm leaving you. Live well.
-Carla"
The handwriting wasn't hers, and she never called him Boone. Everyone else did. Ripping the paper up, Craig began to frantically search the apartment. As he opened the bathroom door, his heart plummeted into his stomach. Dried onto the doorframe was a streak of blood.
Someone had taken her.
Racing out of the door, Craig only stopped to pick up his rifle and a box of ammo.
.
.
She had to be here.
The Legion scouts in the area had been more than willing to tell him about the slave caravans – after the tendons in their hands had been cut and he had started peeling the skin away from their lips, of course. Their truthfulness hadn't stopped him from shooting out their knees and leaving them to die in the heat, but their rations had helped Craig survive.
She had to be here.
He was wedged into an old, ramshackle hut nestled precariously on the cliff overlooking Cottonwood Cove. The Legion had taken the position a few months ago, and despite his pleading with the NCR in Camp Searchlight, there were no plans to take it back.
She had to be here.
There were too many slaves to count, but Craig refused to give up. Through his scope, he went from face to face. Black hair, green eyes. Black hair, green eyes. Where was she?
It was an auction. Women and children were paraded around a small stage before being led away to a small dock and shipped off on one of a fleet of small boats that made their way north.
Where was she? She had to be…
Black hair. Was it her? The woman was walking down the dock. She hadn't been on the stage; maybe she had been sold in a private auction? She wore a rough tunic with a red "x" painted onto its back. A fan-crested Centurion followed after her, and before they reached the boats, he turned her around and gripped her chin forcefully, lifting her gaze to the sky.
Green eyes.
Carla.
Despair rushed through Craig. She had been sold. There was no way he could reach her now. In seconds, she would be put on a boat and sent to the Legion side of the river. She would be enslaved, she would be raped, and his child would either suffer the same fate as her mother, or be forced to become a Legionary if it was a boy.
He had no time. He had to…
She looked directly at him. Her eyes burned through his scope and caused time itself to stop. There was no way she knew he was there. There was no way she could see him.
She wasn't looking at him, he realized; she was looking away from the Centurion. She refused to be subjected to the Legion officer's will. Refused to give up, even as her last chance of escape was being ripped away from her. She would live on her own terms, and they would torture her for it. She would either break, or die; they didn't care which, but in the end her life was no longer her own.
He knew what he had to do.
His rifle bellowed through the quiet afternoon and a bullet ripped through Carla's heart. A second shot mimicked the first, and a third embedded itself between her eyes. She fell like a stone, her gaze vacant and tired.
Craig roared and changed targets, sending the remainder of his clip screaming into the Centurion as the officer dived desperately to the side. He couldn't evade the deadly sniper, and the high-powered rifle sent its rounds through his armor as if it were nothing but paper. The man was dead before he hit the ground.
Continuing to scream out in rage and frustration, Craig reloaded his weapon and began to turn his weapon on the rest of the Legion. First was the auctioneer, one round punching through his femur and another into the back of his mouth as he yelled out in pain. Next was another Centurion as he burst out of second story door, a bullet turning his expression of anger into stunned confusion as a small hole appeared in his forehead.
They yelled orders, they searched, they fired mortars at the surrounding cliff-face, and they died, one by one, until none dared to show their faces.
The sun was setting. Craig's shouts had turned into desperate sobbing, but still he refused to look away from his scope. As darkness descended on the camp, he tried to find her again, tried to see her body one last time. She wasn't there. Maybe someone had knocked her off the dock as they ran across it?
I didn't matter, Craig realized. Letting go of his rifle, he rose and turned around, leaving the weapon were it lay. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a worn letter marked with faded letters.
"For Carla."
He started to let the paper fall between his fingers, but something stopped him from letting go. A quiet despair filled his heart.
She was gone, this was all he had left of her, and it was something she had never even seen.
Boone pocketed the piece of paper and began to walk slowly back to Novac.
.
.
The instant he said it, he saw the look on Manny's face; saw that instant of relief before it was replaced with concern. His lips tightened and he stormed away, ignoring his former friends cries of apology and pleas for him to come back. Slamming open the door to his room, he picked up the piece of paper he had torn apart.
Someone had sold her, someone in this town.
They would die, and he would burn the town down to find them if he had to.
.
.
"You were right, young man. That is one heck of a moon tonight, but that can't be the only reason you asked me out here…"
"Actually, I wanted to ask you about one of the town guards – Boone. What's wrong with him?"
"Nothing that wouldn't be wrong with any man who loses a wife, I suppose. Poor dear… I know he thinks she was kidnapped, but I'm not so sure she didn't just run off on her own – you could tell she was thinking about it ever since they arrived."
"What can you tell me about his wife?"
"How should I put it? I guess you could say she was kinda' like a cactus flower – real pretty to look at, but there was just no getting close to her. She never did take to living here… she liked the big lights and fast living of New Vegas. I got the feeling she was trying to get Boone to leave with her, but I guess she got tired of waiting."
"Did you know she was pregnant?"
"Pregnant!? Oh dear, that would explain why she left… the child probably wasn't Boone's."
"You knew."
"Knew what, dear?"
"That she was pregnant."
"I did no-"
"Why did you sell her to the Legion?"
"Now listen… you just came to this town, and I'll not take this kind of harassment lying down."
"I found the bill of sale. Just tell me why you did it."
"Fine… people like her have no business looking down on the rest of us. We built this town from scratch and she comes along and acts all aloof and above us. I don't care how pretty you are, you have no right disrespecting the hard work I… we put into this place."
"You killed her because she was aloof?"
"Not killed her, heavens no. Just… sent her off to get some perspective. The Legion will teach her the way the wasteland really is."
"You have no idea what they do to slaves, do you?"
"I know they make them find humility… why are you putting on that bere-"
.
.
"That's it then… how did you know?"
"She kept a bill of sale… sold your wife for a thousand caps, and the unborn child for another five-hundred."
"It'd be like her to keep paperwork. Here, this is all I can give you."
"Keep it… I was just doing what's right. What will you do now?"
"I don't know. I won't be staying… I know that. Don't see much point in anything right now, except hunting legionaries. Maybe I'll wander like you."
"Wander with me and we'd be more capable of solving other people's problems."
"Right… what's your name?"
"They call me the Courier. As for my actual name, I can't rightly remember truth be told."
"How'd that come about?"
"No idea. First thing I remember is waking up in Goodsprings with a doctor who had met me before I lost my memory. Told me I was a courier, and that a caravan had dropped me off on their way to Vegas. Once I was well enough to travel, I headed out to try and find the caravan who found me. Hope to figure out who I am and where I came from."
"And on the way you help out everyone you meet?"
"Not everyone… left Nipton almost as soon as I got there."
"Can't say I blame you... Alright, I'll travel with you."
"I appreciate it. I might be good at making friends, but I'm almost useless in a fight."
"How'd you make it as a Courier, then?"
"I may not be able to throw a punch, but I can take one like nobody's business. Most people get tired of trying to hurt me before they cause any real damage."
"Fair enough…"
.
.
"Any closer, I'm shooting any Legionary we see. Hope that's not a problem."
"It kind of is… I need to see if I can get those hostages out of there."
"Unlikely…"
"No harm in trying to get them out, right?"
"Might be some harm… that is the Legion down there."
"Look… just stay up here and keep an eye out. Once you get the chance, get those hostages out of there."
"Where are you going?"
"To make friends. Don't worry, I'm only pretending."
.
.
"That didn't exactly go according to plan…"
"What are you talking about? That went perfectly!"
"You've got a machete in your gut…"
"Well… maybe… but you got the hostages out alive."
"Why do you care so much about the NCR?"
"I really don't… I do care about people though."
"Whatever the reason… thanks."
"Sure. You're a pretty good shot, where'd you learn to shoot like that."
"Same place I got this beret; with the 1st Recon."
"You were NCR? Why'd you leave."
"Ah… all right. You got anymore med-x? This is starting to sting again."
"Just wait until we get to the doctor."
"Fine."
.
.
"What happened to Carla, Boone?"
"This again…"
"I just want to understand you better."
"You don't know what you're asking, all right? The Legion is all I want on my mind right now."
"Look, the better we understand each other, the better off we'll be. I'm sorry for pressing you like this, but something's burning through you, and unless you talk about it, it's only going to get worse."
"All right, fine. I don't know why it matters… she's dead."
"How do you know she's dead?"
"How do I know she's dead?' Here it is. She... I tracked her down. Southeast, near the river. They had sold her. Saw it through my scope. Whole place swarming with Legion; hundreds of them, bidding for things no man has a right to. I just had my rifle with me. So… I took the shot."
"… Better for her to die than live a Legion slave."
"What they do to women… that's worse than death. There was no choice in what I did. It was more like… being forced to watch something you can't stop. Life was only ever going to play out one way – it still is. I don't have any say, and all I can do is wait for it to be done with me."
"You make it sound like your wife's death was inevitable."
"I should've never gotten close to her. I've got bad things coming to me... you'd better keep your distance."
"Why do you have bad things coming to you?"
"…"
"Okay… for what it's worth, you did the right thing."
"…"
.
.
"Still nothing?"
"Nope. No Crimson Caravan was going past Goodsprings at that time. They suggested going back to the 188 trading post and asking around."
"We just came from there."
"Yeah… it's a good thing we're not in a hurry, right?"
"Whatever."
"Hold on! I actually signed us up as caravan guards. They're leaving in the morning."
"… 'Us' up?"
"Yeah! You're the guard, and I'm the guy who keeps the people in the caravan from asking the guard questions."
"… Works for me."
.
.
"Boone, meet Veronica."
"Hi there!"
"He doesn't talk much – don't take it personally."
"That's all right. I talk too much and as long as he doesn't take that personally, I think we'll get along."
"Whoa now… you got him to smile."
"Is that bad? Why is he leaving?"
"I guess we're going that way. Just as well… I've been feeling particularly 'West' today."
"Me too! Lead on, quiet man with a funny hat."
.
.
"Slavers."
"You sure?"
"Positive."
"What are they doing so far West?"
"Slaving probably…"
"Quiet, Veronica. Why aren't the NCR patrolling the area?"
"Don't have the numbers."
"You see that rocky outcropping overlooking their camp?"
"Yeah."
"You stay here, and get ready to take them out in the confusion. Veronica, come with me."
"What're we doing?"
"Sneak attack."
.
.
"That was a terrible sneak attack…"
"No it wasn't."
"You almost broke your leg with that landing…"
"Hey, I could still move around."
"You hobbled after a Legionary yelling at him to hold still while waving a kitchen knife at him."
"At least his laughing distracted him long enough for you to take him out… How're the slaves doing?"
"Good. I still don't get why you help people like this."
"I don't think I know why myself. I just… need to do it."
"… You mind if we head up North?"
"What's up North?"
"Something I need to take care of."
"Sure… let me have a night to sleep off this injury and… Veronica! Give that baby back to its mother! I don't care how cute it is – you can't keep it."
.
.
"… After that, we buried the bodies we could, burned the ones we couldn't. Command wrote it up as a miscommunication, and the world kept on turning."
"Christ… Boone, I'm sorry."
"Don't be sorry for me. I'm the one who murdered women and children."
"You were a soldier, you did what you were ordered to do."
"Yeah, well, I'm not a soldier anymore. Those rules don't seem like much of an excuse now. Anyway... I don't know why we're here. Thought maybe it'd help me see things better, but… I'd like to stay here for the night. Think some things over."
"Take all the time you need."
.
.
"Courier, wake up."
"Huh? What is it?"
"Something's wrong. Got a group coming our way. Looks like a Legion raiding party… a big one. Might be too big, even for us. If you want out I won't blame you, but I'm going to stay… see if I can hold them off."
"You don't sound too concerned…"
"Tell the truth, I think this is exactly what I've been waiting for."
"Holy shit… that's a lot of Legion…"
.
.
"Why'd you do that?"
"I wasn't going to let you die."
"You think I'd want to live having your death on my hands? Things were supposed to end here… I was supposed to end here… but now… I'm still waiting."
"Waiting for what? Punishment? For fuck's sake, Boone, you're being punished every single day. Living with what you did is your punishment. You'll never be able to take back what happened, but everything you do that helps another person makes the world just a little more right. Even though nothing we do can change the past, that doesn't mean we can't do something about our future."
"… Taking advice about the past from someone who can't remember his... I must be out of my mind."
"Yeah, and people in hell want ice water… Now come on, let's go find Veronica."
.
.
"You headed out?"
"Boone! I thought the caravan had already left."
"I told them to wait – had to say my goodbyes."
"Glad you did. I'm headed back to Goodsprings. This might be the last time we see each other for awhile."
"Got anymore leads on where you came from?"
"Not as such, no. At this point I'm resigned to be the Courier from here on out."
"It's a catchy name."
"Yeah… I decided to embrace my former profession and take some jobs with the Mojave Express. From what I hear, they've got a series of packages coming in from Primm, and if I get there soon enough, I might get to see one of them delivered."
"Well, whatever you do, take care of yourself."
"I'll do my best."
.
.
July 21st, 2279, 8:57 p.m.
"Who's there?"
"A friend."
"Haven't got many of those… and you don't look or sound anything like one of them."
"I used to look like one of them... short, scrawny fellow with a hero complex and a weird name? The rebreather doesn't help with sounding the same, but I'm the guy."
"Christ, Courier? It's been years… I thought you had died?"
"Technically? I think I've done it a few times since we last traveled. Have a real name now as well… it's Denn. How've you been?"
"Better than you… what the hell happened to you?"
"I'll tell you later… right now, I need your help."
"With what?"
"Saving the Mojave."
"… You're serious?"
"Yes."
"… Works for me."