? another update ?
The horizon was blooming a rich purple by the time they made their way back to the main camp – the last of the daylight shining over the world's edge and flecking everything with a sweetened gold. They spoke of nothing important in those hours, sitting in a mild silence and sharing a pack of smokes until their throats began to ache. It wasn't awkward, but it was something. Things were quiet – and tucked away under Annie's arm, Boone felt that quiet to the core of him. Perhaps he was processing, but that numbness he was craving was beginning to settle in.
Liberating the supply cache was a big win for the camp. Gilles seemed more alive at the thought, and the grunts that patrolled the boarders regained the colours in their cheeks. No more random deaths by late night sniping, and no more raids on their supply caravans – it was like a hallelujah chorus. Boone felt awful about killing another Khan, even though he plainly knew that it was the right thing to do. It just felt wrong, coming back to the scene to commit the same crime. That numbness though, that was seeping into him like a tear in a sand bag, dulled whatever ache his thoughts could afford him.
Boone took the patrol closer to the mouth of the canyon, giving a baby-faced soldier the afternoon off. He needed some space and Annie understood that. He set up shop in a nice little nook she had shown him – they used to hang their tribal totems there, she said. Now it was just an abandoned sniper's nest. It would do the job.
Annie hung around the main camp, watching people, sniffing out little memories and reefing them out to explore the feelings that came with them. Moments with her mother, late night summer circles with Jack and Diane, sneaking off to find some time with Chance… it was mildly overwhelming at first, but then it just made her warm. There was life here once, she thought to herself as she glanced around the awakening shanty town – maybe she could do something to bring it back to its past wonders.
"A baby book?" She grinned awkwardly at the doctor. "Don't you know how to deliver a baby?"
The man stared down at her from great heights, tall and hard-faced as if a blanched Arcade made a lovechild with some wild wheat.
"Do you know how to deliver a baby?" He snapped at her.
"Uh- no, I… No."
"I'm a field medic." He added snippily, as if she was wasting his time – which she definitely was, mind you. "It's not often a soldier stops in the middle of combat to pop out a baby."
"That makes sense." Annie replied, slightly uncomfortable by her faux pas. She raised her pipboy, flicking to the notes. "We'll work something out."
"That would be good." His back straightened with the pleasure of confirmation. "And something on psychology, too. There's a great amount of trauma in these refugees and I'm worried that I'm not equipped enough to handle the outcomes."
"Sure." She nodded.
"Pediatrics," Markland repeated slowly, glancing over Annie's notes like a pointed hawk. "And psychology."
"Right. Pediatrics. P-E-E… D... E?"
"Just put 'babies'… Babies and brains."
Kicked out when a woman entered the tent complaining of chest pains, Annie found herself in the twilight of the afternoon. Greeted with a waft of food smell from the firepit a few feet away, she found herself drawn into the crisp odor of re-hydrated Salisbury steak – a few tinfoil trays heating in the flames. Her stomach grumbled. She and Boone hadn't eaten a proper meal that day, snacking on jerky or the small selection of bruised fruit Annie kept in the bottom of her bag.
"Hungry?" Gilles asked when Annie approached awkwardly, as if she was supposed to be sneaking.
"A little. Has everyone eaten?"
"Tonight they have." The woman rested her hands on her hips, gazing into the fire with tired eyes. "Take one, for you and him. I know it's not much, but I know we should be rationing. I just can't say no to everyone today."
"It's fine, I've got some snacks in my bag." The glorified mailman waved her hands uncomfortably. "I couldn't take it."
"Please." Gilles said, a small smile forcing itself upon her lips. "It's a special night. Someone just reclaimed two months' worth of rations for us, so we should probably use some. Everyone's eaten bar a few men who will check in later." She added. "Please."
"Thanks." Annie grinned, her mouth moistening at the idea of sustenance. Eying off a rag, she crouched towards the fire. Glancing over her shoulder as she bundled the thick towel around one of her hands, Annie caught her attention. "When I get back to The Strip, I'll push for more support."
"I appreciate it, but we've been asking for months. I don't think you'll be able to get much done."
"I'll send my own supplies then." She bit back. Pulling the tray from the fire, Annie rested it in the warm sand for a moment. "It's not for you, it's for them. I'm sure if the brass saw me sucking up to one of their camps, they'd stick their nose into it no problem."
Gilles sniffed a laugh.
Toddling down from the belly of the canyon juggling a steaming tray of something, Annie set her sights on Boone. With the noise of the main camp fading into the distance, she spotted him right where she had left him – sitting on a rusty old fold-out chair, smoking a cigarette in the fading daylight.
"Hey!" She called up to him when she reached the base. Boone, only a few feet above her, glanced down to find her wiggling the food at him – the smell permeating the wind that twisted around his senses. He wasn't hungry. "Grab this, I need to get up and I don't have enough arms to do both."
Leaning off the edge a little, he pinched the lip of the tray with poised fingers – the fresh heat merrily warming his cold fingers. "You're crazy!" She called up at him, waving the towel in the air as if it meant something. When he didn't take it, she pitched it up at him and it landed gracelessly on his shoulder.
Dropping the tray into the sand, he leant over again and offered a hand. Sticking the tip of her boot into the rock wall, Annie grabbed at him and hoisted herself up – Boone leaning back in his chair to use his body as a counter weight. She stumbled up, kicking a lump of sand into their dinner and groaning at the thought.
"Fuck." She moaned, waving her arms over her head to stretch her back. "That's my half, then."
"I'm not that hungry." He told her, swiping the towel from his shoulder and folding it gently, handing it back. Annie rolled her eyes.
"We're sharing. It'll be fun. Promise." She plonked herself down beside him, leaning up against the side of his leg before folding her own into a pretzel. "How're you doing?"
"Fine."
He was not fine. Feeling a little ill, Boone's stomach was spitting at something inside of him. Maybe the day had been too much for him to handle – his head spinning and his muscles aching. His thoughts were going a thousand miles a minute, splitting off into different idea trees and jamming their branches into the soft new scar tissue growing over old wounds.
"Of course." She rested her head against his thigh. "See anything interesting?"
"No. It's been quiet up here."
"That's a good thing." Dragging the tray over towards her, Annie dipped her fingers into the sandy sauce and winced at the heat – scooping some re-hydrated mince up into her mouth. They sat in silence for a moment while she finished her mouthful, sucking her fingers to clean up her mess. "I'm glad we came here today. It feels like we did the right thing."
He flicked his cigarette off the edge, looking down at the mop of thick black hair that had been freed from its pony tail. His heart felt a little fuller, eyes softening at the sight of her. Even with all that was swirling inside, Annie felt like a solid rock to cling on to. It was a good feeling.
Lowering a hand down beside him, his fingers slipped into her hair and traced the side of her face – his rough thumb rubbing at her cheek bone. She let out a noise of content, pressing harder against him.
"You're not a bad person, Boone." She continued, nestling into his pant leg. "You've done some bad things, but you're not a bad person."
"Annie…" He started quietly and she looked up right at him, startling him with her movement. His hand cupped tighter against her skin. "I don't deserve your forgiveness. And it's not all yours to give me."
She ignored him. "I've killed people too. I know they were innocent. I did it because I could. We did it for fun." Big brown eyes stared up at him, wide and blank – her mind far away. "Civilians, soldiers, mothers…" She blinked off, looking out onto the sandy mass in front of them. "Do you think I deserve to die for what I've done?"
He froze for a moment, following her line of sight to the last slithers of colours in the sky. He rubbed her cheek again, pulling her in a little closer.
"No." Boone told her, voice barely fighting above a whisper. "I don't know what I'd do if you died."
Holding her to him, stroking her face with his thumb, Boone sat back into his chair. He thought about saying something more – something to let her know just what he was feeling. His gut was rolling. He watched the desert unfold in front of him as the burgeoning moonlight brushed a pale white over the sparsely dotted cactuses – a hive of cazadors buzzing in the distance. There was a glint of something flickering off to the east, trailed by a shifting of dark blurs all in a line – crouched and furtively sneaking forward.
Odd. It wasn't a road he was aware of.
Letting Annie go, Boone picked up his rifle – interest peaked. Peering down the scope, he was greeted with the sailing feeling of his heart falling into his stomach. His body perked and he pressed forward like a dog's first time seeing a squirrel.
"Boone," Annie said quietly. "What is it?"
"Legion." He whispered. "Raiding party. Go. Go get everyone out of the way."
She lurched away, starting to slink towards the cliffside without hesitation. "Don't you fucking start without me." Pointing a finger at him as she lowered herself back to earth. "I'm serious! Don't do anything stupid!"
Landing heavily on both feet, Annie began her sprint back into the canyon. Passing the patrolling soldiers without any warning, she zoomed her way back to the firepit where Gilles was sitting languidly – slowly shoveling the sloppy Salisbury steak into her mouth. A spray of sand alerted them to her presence, slowing only to change directions towards the tent.
Gilles jumped up. "What." She spoke curtly, ditching her food beside the log, very obviously startled. Annie ducked into the tent quickly, reaching in to snatch her first aid kit and drag her sledge from its resting place. "Annie."
"Legion." She said quietly when she popped back out again, clipping the kit to her belt before hoisting the weapon over her shoulder. "I think they're heading this way. Get everyone towards the caves."
"The caves?" Gilles argued for a moment, a wash of defeat rolling over her face – now pallid and sweaty without any work. She was a crushed soul at this point, and the first ray of sunshine she had felt in a long time was suddenly clouded over without warning. "They'll die like dogs herded in the caves."
"Those fuckers won't get that far in, I promise."
The crack of a rifle further down the line punctuated her point, Gilles springing into action without any indecision. Soldiers scattered, and with the raise of voices, tents began to wobble and shake with the shudder of fleeing bodies. Annie turned back around towards Boone, greeted with another shot fired in the distance.
"I wish you'd listen to me once in a while!" She yelled at him as if he could hear her. She darted forward, rocking through the uneven sand – feeling the rise of adrenaline as it surged through her body. Her muscles shivered in excitement as she snuck up towards the bottle neck – taking one last look at Boone before she glanced out at the playing field.
Boone was taken aback – they were not going down as quickly as he would have liked. Humans were simple when it came to stopping them completely. All one had to do was hit one of the few points on the human body and it would crumple like a bag of potatoes – but the Legion had always been different. He knew that. They took their bullets like a splash of water to the face.
It was like being shot almost rejuvenated them – paired with that powder they always carried, it was like they were psyched-up and ready to go, regardless of the situation. It was scary in a way, but it just made Boone want to work harder.
For a split second, Boone worried for Annie. She wasn't exactly the best at long-range combat, and the fact that she didn't carry a gun if she didn't need to made things a bit sticky. If he could just take down the ones with the heavier artillery, she would be fine. As much as he wanted to believe she could hold her own, being the seemingly indestructible woman she was, he knew he needed to protect her. Why wouldn't he? She'd handed him his life back, and thought he was worth something. Was it selfish to want to keep that safe?
He took his shot at one of the men with a fancier headdress – his little Legion flag rolling with each step he took. By now, because of the first few shots fired, the team was running towards them. A crude spear sailed through the sky towards him, piercing the ground at his feet with a hollow thunk. Boone was reloading as quick as he could, locking it into his shoulder before taking another shot. This time one went down, relishing the kill before he heard first contact break below.
Annie took the push of a flailing ripper with the stem of her sledge, the jarring shriek of metal on metal piercing her ears. Taking a risk and booting the recruit away from her with a foot to the chest, she made a big swing. He stood back, barely shaken, jabbing forward at her with the whirring chain and swiping dumbly at the air beside her. The pulse of her sledge made contact with his shoulder, and the warp of the pressure change swallowed the air around them. His arm, now a bloody stump, flicked off to the side of them. The ripper in his other hand, still attached to his body, spun into overdrive when his muscles seized.
She swung again, pulling from the other direction, aiming blindly for a good hit. He ducked as well as he could, but fell to his knees – and in advantage of the moment, Annie pulled that sledge over her head and brought it down on him.
In a sickening slush, his torso crumpled and spat all over her legs. Stepping to the side, she set her sights on the next one who was just making landfall at the mouth of the canyon. A few feral looking dogs were nipping around his feet, darting past her and dodging her haphazard swings. She prayed that Gilles left a few grunts to watch the camp.
Turning back to the looming recruit, Annie loaded herself for another power swing. Boone was emptying the breach, pushing the bolt back into place before he took one quick aim at the lingering vexillarius – praying to pierce the skull with one hit. It was almost slow motion for a moment, the air tight and buzzing, and everything was eerily quiet in his mind as he waited for it to hit. And when it did, the Legion fuck popped like a wet balloon. Three solid shots echoed down from inside the canyon's base.
Scanning the horizon for another wave, Boone took a quick head check. He could hear Annie stumbling below, the clanking of metal against metal and the grunting of the man's calculated swings. There was the pop of a handgun being fired, the crunch of a bullet chipping into the rock wall below him, and suddenly his heart was in his throat.
Annie swore loudly, and Boone popped his head over the side to take a fast account of the moment. Grabbing the first idea that came to mind, he grabbed his folding chair with his spare hand and flung it down into the mess. He hit a recruit in the back, startling him into a cry, and while Annie had the time to act, she jammed the other man in the chest with the top of her sledge to knock him back a few feet. The recruit with the gun, slightly flailing and now winded, fired another shot into the air in confusion.
The pattering of bullets spraying above him caught his attention, glancing back into the open field. Another wave of Legion appeared, arrival punctuated by the squish of Annie making contact with one of the recruits. Pulling back the bolt and shrugging out the casing, he pushed it back and took aim at the other – catching him in the back of the neck. Boone picked off the chair victim as he staggered back upright and Annie jabbed at the second - this time, hard enough to push his chest in. A spray of bullets flickered into the rock around them, Annie shrieking at the whistle that screamed past her by an inch.
With the second wave about to hit, she rolled her shoulders for another go. Annie stepped over a twitching body as she slunk into the only shadow she could find. "You good?" She shouted up at her partner, fiddling with the med box on her belt. She unclipped it.
"Yeah." He grunted back, surprised he heard her over the pulsing of his own blood in his ears. "You?"
"Yeah!" She called up at him, pitching a handful of medicinal shit up onto the ledge before wiping the sweat from her forehead.
Another spray whipped through, and this time she heard Boone hiss from above her. Annie counted four recruits, a dog and another man in a stupid helmet. Alarmed by the slump of bodies in the canyon mouth, the fancy Legion soldier fired blindly into the darkness – covering Annie with a burst of red dust and chips of rock. She pulled back, feeling a little cornered before taking the risk of dipping down for the dead recruit's gun.
Boone took out one of the approaching army, irritated by the prickle of torn skin on his side. He was lucky it was just a skin diver, nothing serious, but he knew he had to be a little more careful. Annie's little care package, he noted, was just a handle of jet and an empty syringe… At least she tried.
He perked at the short pops of a handgun below. It sounded brash and uncertain, three shots fired at mixed rates. It seemed she'd found a gun – his heart relaxed. Even she wasn't that useless, she could still hit something that close. A recruit took two to the stomach, crippling at the middle – but still driving forward as if he were invincible. Annie fired again, trying not to waste ammunition. There was no way she could reload fast enough without being swarmed. Two new shots burst into his chest.
A machete swung her way with the lurch of a body and Annie staggered back. Ditching the handgun to the side, she pulled her sledge back out just in time to catch the second slash – chipping into the handle of her weapon with a chilling tink. She slung it towards him in a wide arc – missing – and slamming into the rock beside them. The ground below Boone's feet shuddered a little at the impact, and Annie redrew her swing for another try.
The third dog raced past her, followed by the slippery legionary with the stupid hat. Grabbing at his skirt tails, she missed, turning back just in time to be greeted with that same machete – slicing through the air to catch her right down the side of the face. The pain seared as the cut opened, and she let out a weird gurgle. More shots sounded from the canyon, followed by short, sharp screams.
She pulled back and swung that sledge again, muscles screaming as her legs trembled. The momentum swung her around with it, foot twisting in the sand as the other leg stuck out to catch herself. The recruit pasted his head all over the wall beside them, body flipping over itself with the momentum of the swipe. She let out another pained noise, alerting Boone to her presence – his routine growing quicker.
Stumbling closer, the forth recruit took one last shot to the back as he sluggishly lunged at Annie. He fell at her feet, like they did in the old holotapes, and while she gathered her bearings, Boone scanned the horizon for anyone else. It seemed quiet. He checked his scope, finding no lumps of darkness slinking across the horizon. In the moment of silence, he looked over the edge for his partner, but she had already sprinted back up into the camp.
He hopped down, nearly slipping over on the handle of jet, landing on the abandoned arm of a dead recruit. The grit of the sand mixed with the slush of blood made an awful sound, but he ignored it, following Annie's boot falls back to main camp. His blood was pumping so hard it felt like he was going to pass out – the roaring in his ears almost deafening as he dashed towards her – but he kept going, afraid that if he stopped he might just quit.
The Legionary in the stupid hat was face down in the sand, surrounded by the corpses of the feral mutts he summoned. Annie hadn't made it in time to fix everything. He had a hole through one of his legs, and blood was siphoning into the sand beneath his chest, and Annie – ever-so the terrifying heroine she was, stood over him for a small moment, time paused as if they had every ounce of it in the world, before she slammed her sledge down into the middle of his back. He splattered out in a wide radius, painting some of the NCR grunts in a mist of red.
One grunt clung to his arm, savaged by one of the dogs that had gotten loose, but that seemed to be the extent of the damage. Things grew quiet, Annie's heaving breaths steadying as she leant her weight onto the handle of her sledge still buried in his back. She looked over at Boone, eyes wild and hair an absolute rat's nest; a large, deep cut running down the side of her face – and in that very moment, a moment he'll never forget, he saw her as the shining light he would allow himself to have.
And then he vomited on his own boots.
"Exhaustion." Markland told him plainly, fiddling with the antiseptic sponge he was dotting around the bullet wound. The liquid stung, the muscles in the area shivering in pain. "And you got shot. That wouldn't have helped."
Boone nodded, shifting around the line of fluid he had pinned into his arm. Annie stared at him impudently, her eyes shining with an 'I told you so!'. The muscles below his right eye twitched as a stimpak was pressed into the freshly-dug canal of flesh in his side, gritting his teeth as the cold washed through him. Markland squeezed the wound a little, forcing it to knit itself back together neater, before turning his attention to Annie.
She looked a mess – covered in gore and dripping her own – the grin sliding from her face when the doctor pulled out another stim. "It's gonna hurt 'cause it's on the face, isn't it?" She groaned at him.
"Doesn't it hurt now?" Markland asked, dipping a fresh sponge into the antiseptic. "You could have some nerve damage." He dabbed at the slice, cleaning up the edges.
"Shit! No! It hurts!" Annie whined, wincing at the stinging seeping into her cut. "I just know you're gonna squeeze it, aren't you!"
"Yep." He pulled the cap from the needle and flicked it. She groaned at him again in rebellion. "Stay still."
Gloved fingers pinched the skin together, Annie flinching, eyes rolling wildly as she tried to settle herself. The first prick of the needle pressed above her cheek – the cold fluid swimming into the wound and pulling it together. She caught a glimpse at Boone, who was watching her quietly – some kind of smugness twitching at the corner of his mouth.
"Don't you laugh at me!" She grunted at him through grit teeth, causing his brows to rise and his mouth to twitch again.
"Stay still!" Markland snapped.
Boone looked away, watching a hole in the tent shudder with the night air that rolled through. He felt different – still an undeserving piece of shit obviously, but different. It had felt like an age since he had killed some Legionaries, so his body and mind were riding a nice high. And he was with Annie, and she was alive and hadn't been too hurt. It felt good, for the first time in a long while… he felt good.
Barely surviving the second squirt of stim, Annie crawled her way through the third – complaining the whole way.
"Now if you don't want that to scar, I suggest another stimpak tomorrow in the same spots – just to help that scar tissue heal a little cleaner. Try not to get a machete to the face next time." He sighed at the woman as she flexed her jaw, rolling her eyes at him. He capped the finished products and ditched them in the trash at the end of the bench. "And you," he turned to Boone as he snapped off his gloves, reaching up to give the fluid bag a light squeeze before turning the tap. "Rest and recuperation. Eat something. Don't go traipsing across the Mojave for the sake of it."
"Well, there goes tomorrow's plans." He replied dryly as doc unleashed him gently, slapping a bit of cotton and tape over the hole. Annie almost fell out of her chair in shock.
"Did you drug him?" She asked the doctor. "Is he high?"
"Can you go, please." Markland said flatly as he ushered them off with the lazy flick of a wrist. "I need to clean up your mess."
They fled from the tent into the chilly night air, greeted by the happy faces of the camp's wanderers. Gilles could not have been more thankful, shaking her head in disbelief and in wonder. It was a great day for her. It felt like things could potentially be back on track.
"You're an angel." A woman in rags muttered at Boone as they glided through after gathering up their packs, the word making his stomach roll in repulsion. Annie slipped an arm through his to keep him together – bumping herself into him gently to remind him that she was there.
"I'm thinking—" She started as they exited the camp, stealing away from all the noise and commotion – past the soldiers dragging off bodies and towards the Ridge where they would make their camp. "—We find a gecko, slaughter it, devour its nutritious body, and then get some sleep. How does that sound?"
"The noise might have scared them off." He told her, appreciative of the warmth she was sharing with him. "But it's a plan."
She squeezed his arm tighter, enjoying the feel of his skin against her bare arm. He seemed better. It wasn't as if he was completely healed, but something small had shifted in him. The night sky had dotted itself with a blanket of stars and the fat, full moon lit up the wasteland before them. Standing alone, waiting for them, the Ridge was tall and looming – casting a shadow over where they dumped their bags.
He'd made a new memory for Bitter Springs. It wasn't big enough, wasn't great enough, to completely overshadow the first memory – but it made things easier. He still didn't feel like he had paid all his dues, and the same disgusted feelings still gnawed away at his stomach. But now his thoughts felt slower, less unhinged, like he was content for the first time in a long while. Annie couldn't keep away from him. It felt like every time they strayed apart, she would slink right back beside him, hovering around like a hungry cat.
There was still a hurdle for him to jump; to do the same for her. He wanted to give her that, but it was hard. Although, even feeling her light touch was enough to make him feel better about their situation. She probably felt the same. When had he ever let her get so close, consecutively, without just pushing her away right after? He thought of Carla – how scared he was to touch her, as if he would scare her away with all the baggage he carried behind closed doors. But Annie, he felt that if he touched her, he might just break her.
The feel of her face beneath his fingers burned a question in his mind. When would he? When would it be okay for him to just touch her, comfortably, feel her beneath his fingers without being scorched by it all? Touching her, holding her close to him on that little ledge, felt freeing. Was it all going to be like that? Was being with her, laying with her, going to feel that liberating? He wanted to. It felt like he wanted to. Not in a sick way, a depraved way, in that moment he suddenly wanted that intimacy that he'd only shared with Carla.
It didn't hurt so much now, thinking about Carla. Would she want him to be happy? Of course – she was a saint. She was far too good for this world, and something in him told him that he was doing the heavens a favour by sending her home. He chewed the inside of his lip, glancing over at his companion who had sprung herself up onto a pile of rocks.
"I don't see any animals," She said, voice laced with disappointment as she stepped back down beside him. She started rifling through her pockets for her cigarettes, not paying him much attention. "How 'bout some cactus? It's really good when it's grilled. We still should have that little chunk of shopping cart in one of the packs, right? I can cook."
She pulled herself out a smoke, squinting off behind him as she set her sights on that night's victim. The lonely cactus looked lush. Blindly slapping her thigh for some matches, she stretched her neck to look around Boone for anything else to eat. She was starving. Boone had gotten his blood, and a whole lot more sand, in their first dinner.
"Annie," He stopped her, a cautious hand rising to catch her arm. She snapped out of her plan, looking up at him with a dumb smile.
"What?" She asked, uncomfortable under his stare. "Is my face open or something? It feels okay, doesn't hurt or anything. You right?"
He was thinking about something, running through the objections in his mind as she began to fidget with discomfort. Was he going to shut her down again? He had been quiet all afternoon, well, as quiet as he usually was. But today he had a reason to be quiet. Her heart fell a little – hoping for the best. She was really starting to enjoy whatever wall had fallen down between them.
"I'm fine. Hold still." He told her, reaching up his other hand to keep her in place.
"More Legion!?" She gasped at him. "Again!"
He wanted to scoff at her. "No." He placed a palm on her face and she settled, looking at it like it was an expensive gift. "No, I… Thanks for coming with me."
"That's okay!" She piped back as her heart raced to the speed of a teenage girl's. "I wanted to come. It was good to come back. I hope it helps, even a little."
"It did." His thumb did the thing again, making her smile up at him shyly. How good would it be, she thought to herself slyly, to just be able to reach up and kiss him. She wanted to, really bad. Like, really bad. Of course, kissing the man you had a very complicated thing with at the site where he kinda murdered a bunch of people wasn't the best plan for the evening. "A little. I still feel… the same."
And even if it was okay, it would've spooked him. She felt bad. How could she be thinking about that emotional tripe when he was suffering, in front of her. Slipping some fingers through his, she pressed his hand against her new scar.
"It'll take time." She told him. "You can't undo the past, but you've been working for the future. And it's good. It's all you can do, Boone." Chewing her lip, she forced herself to give him an empathetic grin – even if all she wanted to do was throw herself into his chest and crush some love into him. "I… I really like you." Annie added, wetting her mouth. "As a person… and as a man, obviously, but mostly a person. You're a good person. To me. I'm really lucky… to have you here. With me. I'm really lucky."
For that moment, Boone's heart felt so full that it ached. And finally, judgement passed and made, he gathered the other side of her face into his spare hand and pulled her a little. She flinched, heart jumping, hands scrambling at him awkwardly. They paused, a little weird, the air around them charged with something sharp and static-y. Her eyes, big and scared and curious and a little wet, searched his furiously, gagging for an answer.
He answered, tugging her in again – a little too rough but he was so nervous. He kissed her. Right on the mouth. Annie mumbled a little in surprise, confused hands darting towards him and throwing themselves around his middle. Lips, a little dry but still comforting, slipped against her own – teeth nipping, backs arching, the gap between them no longer an issue as they shared, for the first time, what felt like the best thing they had ever done together. And they had done a lot.
And when they were done, out of breath but still charged, Annie pulled him in for another – softer, sweeter, fingers sneaking into his hair and under his stupid hat. Boone felt like he was dying. Whatever it was, even if it was just a kiss, had breathed more life into him than anything else he had ever felt. His brain told him to feel guilty but his body just pulled her closer, nipping at her bottom lip again – wanting to consume as much of that feeling he could summon and get disgustingly drunk on it.
But she pulled away from him, honestly wanting nothing more than to throw him into the sand and wrestle a good time out of him. Eyeing him with a stupid look on her face, she let her arms fall around his neck.
"Let me make you some dinner." She breathed at him, hungrier than she had ever been – for more than cactus, anyway. "And let me put you to bed. Doctor's orders."