Wow! I haven't uploaded in a long time. Well, here it is! I'm hoping to get this all uploaded here soon. The story is so close to being done. I just need to finish a couple scenes, then it'll be good to go!

Disclaimer: I do not own Fallout New Vegas

Chapter 4

Where is he?

My eyes flittered open lazily. Everything was blurry, and too bright at first. Soon my eyes focused on a spinning ceiling fan. It got harder to keep my eyes open, but I forced them as I attempted to sit up. As I did, the world became increasingly blurry, and a hand reached out to grab my shoulder. I flinched sharply away from the touch, then my eyes focused on the man in front of me.

"Mitchell?" I asked, my voice slurring as I stopped fighting him off.

"Easy now, Jay." His voice was low and smooth, sending reassurance through me.

"What… what happened?" I asked. Just then the pain began to set in. My head began to pound brutally, making me grab my forehead tightly as I grunted in pain. I felt Mitchell's hands grasp my arms tightly, and I vaguely heard him speak. It felt like I was underwater. I stammered, my eyes rolling back and forth, unable to focus on anything. I slumped against the wall behind me, and decided then to stop trying to move. After a few moments the world slowed again, and I let myself focus on Mitchell's face.

"You okay?" He asked, his accented voice slightly higher than before.

"Y-yeah…" I stammered. "I just don't think I should get up right away, is all."

Mitchell nodded slowly.

"Understandable. Do you remember what happened?" He asked.

I closed my eyes, seeing the mans face again, staring down at me through the sights of a pistol. Flinching, I forced my eyes open again.

"Yes." I nearly whispered.

"What did they want?" He asked.

"A chip… a, uh…" I struggled to retrieve the memory. "A lucky chip."

Mitchell's face remained blank as he nodded his head at me.

"And why did they want it?"

I shook my head.

"Dunno." Then it clicked. "Was I shot in the head?"

"Yes." Mitchell said blatantly.

My hands flew up to my head, immediately feeling the absence of hair.

"What did you do?" I asked in shock.

"I saved your life, that's what I did. But in order to do that, I needed to remove a few things. Including your hair." He explained. My hands found a scar in the shape of an engraved circle on my forehead. Great. That's going to be attractive.

"How… long have I been out?" I asked. Mitchell shrugged.

"A few weeks." He said calmly. My eyes widened.

"A few weeks!" I yelled.

"Your folks gonna be worried?" Mitchell asked, his eyebrows forwarding. I stopped, my anger melting away instantly.

"No, they're gone…but my fiancé's still around. He's gonna be worried sick…" I muttered.

"I'm sure he's fine, Jay." Mitchell said soothingly. I looked up at him, my eye's sore from the pain. Normally I'd trust Mitchell. But this was different. Doubt lingered in the back of my mind like a nagging voice. Brad wasn't fine. And something deep inside of me knew it.

( )

"You ready?" Mitchell asked, one hand on my shoulder. The things that I had on me were recovered, which didn't involve much. Dirty white tank top, rolled up jeans, cargo boots, and a torn up white bandana. I had the bandana wrapped around my head now, attempting to hide my scar. Mitchell provided me with some water, a few stimpacks, and a bunch of caps. About five hundred, to be exact. It was too nice of a gesture, but there was no way I was going to turn it down. Before I was allowed to leave, I was given a series of tests by Mitchell. After at least five hundred questions about myself, and even more rorschach's, I was free to go. He explained to me that I may feel a little different, including not being able to find the words I wanted to use, my memory would be a little foggy, and my judgment was rather dimmed, too. But I was deemed able to leave. I took a deep breath.

"As ready as I'll ever be." I replied with a nod of the head. Mitchell nodded, and took his hand off of my shoulder. He backed up a few steps, giving me some space, his face full of sympathy.

"I wish you the best of luck, Jay. I hope you find your fiancé. And the man who shot you." He winked. I grinned, and then threw my arms around him. He let out a little grunt in shock before awkwardly wrapping his arms around my back.

"Impulse control noted." He grumbled. I chuckled, and pulled away.

"Thank you, Mitchell. Thank you for everything." I said.

"No problem. Remember to thank that robot, too." He explained.

"The what?"

"Victor… the robot that dug you out of your grave?"

I blinked a few times, then finally remembered.

"Oh, right, that guy."

Mitchell chuckled, shaking his head slightly.

"It'll get easier, I promise. Just take it easy." He explained. I nodded my head, and put my hand on the door knob. I took a few seconds before twisting it, and then pulled it open. The sun blinded me for a few seconds, and it took a little while to adjust. The door closed behind me just as I focused on a crow that flew off from the white fence in front of me. Goodsprings. It didn't change one bit since the last time I had visited. I had been here recently to deliver a package to Trudy, who needed another bottle and wine opener. People here knew me, but I never spent more than an hour here. Now I had spent three unconscious weeks lying in Doc Mitchell's clinic.

Brad.

I stepped forward, careful to not fall over as I did, and pushed the white gate in front of me. If Brad had gone through here, he would have checked in with Judy, first. As I continued to walk, I caught eye of an old man sitting just in front of the Saloon. Easy Pete.

"Hey there, Jay. Looks like you're all better." He nearly hummed as I came towards him.

"Looks like it, don't it?" I asked, walking up the small step onto the deck of the Saloon.

"I'm glad yah did. Head on in, you could use a drink." He said. I nodded my head to him, and opened the door to the Saloon. Immediately I was alerted by the growling of a defensive dog, staring straight at me.

"Hey Cheyenne! Come here, sweetie." I said, crouching down, and letting my arms out towards Cheyenne. It took a few seconds for her to recognise me, but once she did she came bounding over like a puppy. I laughed as she licked my face happily, her tail wagging in delight.

"Seems like she remembers yah." A familiar voice said. I looked up to see the gentle face of Sunny Smiles.

"Looks like it, huh?" I asked, standing up. Sunny set a hand on her belt, shifting her weight to one leg.

"You look better. How's your head treatin' yah?" She asked. I chuckled, rubbing my forehead underneath my bandana.

"Better. Still kinda fuzzy. But I guess that's what I get for getting shot in the head." I said, making Sunny grin.

"Well, it's good to see yah. Come on, have a drink on me." She said, and lead me over to the bar. We both sat on the bar stool in unison just as Judy walked behind the counter.

"Well look who it is. The girl who rose again. How are you feelin'?" She asked, setting two hands on the counter.

"I'm better, thanks." I said.

Sunny ordered us drinks, and even bought one for Judy who leaned against the counter towards us.

"So do you remember what happened?" She asked. I nodded.

"Yeah. Some dude in a checkered suit shot me. For a uh…" I tapped my fingers against the counter a few times. "Oh, a lucky chip. Right." I took a swig from my whiskey.

"Oh? I think I remember seeing him 'round here. Some folks he was with called him Benny. I knew he was bad news the second I saw him." She explained.

Benny. Good, now I have a name.

"Do you know where he was headed?" I asked.

"Uh, yah, he said somethin' about Primm. I'd suggest you go there real quick. Talk to Deputy Beagle. He should know." She explained.

"If yah need some help, I'm always willin'." Sunny said, nudging my shoulder softly.

"Thanks, but I'm actually hoping to go with my fiancé… which, have you seen him?" I asked. Sunny and Judy shared a worried glance before looking at me again.

"No, he never came around here, sweetie. Sorry." Judy said. I sighed, setting my head in my hand, taking another swig of my whiskey. I felt Sunny's finger trace my neck, making me flinch. When I turned to see her, she smiled apologetically.

"Sorry, it's just this scar looks mighty strange. What happened?" She asked. My hand flew to my neck.

"Oh…" I grumbled, untying my bandana. "Oh shit."

"What is it?" Judy asked.

"It's the Latin symbol for 'Death'. Well, the beginning of it, at least." I said, tying my bandana over my neck now. "I was jumped a while back by some Legionaries. They left me off with a warning." I said.

"What in the sam-hell did yah do?" Judy asked again. I shrugged.

"Somethin' they didn't want me doin'." Like trying to save Carla. I sighed, looking into my amber coloured drink. Primm. Persistence flared in my mind like a wildfire. I needed to find that Benny guy, and dish out what he served me. No matter what.

( )

"You sure you want a full rifle?" Chet asked, worry straining his thick eyebrows.

"It'll give yah more caps, wouldn't it? Besides, I can keep it as a back-up." I explained. I was hoping to stay completely away from pistol's as much as possible. Ever since Benny I couldn't imagine myself with one. Chet shrugged his shoulders, reaching under the counter for a box of ammo.

"That would be forty caps." He said. I set the money on the counter, and swung the rifle over my shoulder. Before I left, he stopped me.

"Uh, word to the wise. Being bald is… hard, especially out in the desert. Might I suggest a hat?" Chet asked. I smirked at him, turning back to him, remembering that he, himself, was bald too.

"Fine. Watcha got?"

Chet grinned, and went in the back for two seconds, and came back with a standard black leather cowboy hat.

"Just for your trip back. It's not the best, but it'll do." He explained. I paid for the hat, thanked him, and left immediately. The map in my mind was muddy, but I was able to find my way back to the house with little to no problems. I swung the door open, letting the scent of the place hit me like a ton of bricks.

"Home, sweet home." I breathed. I set my hat on the coat rack, and propped up my rifle near the door. I went straight to the fridge, where I pulled out a nuka-cola. As I chugged it, I noticed that the living room was cleaned. Sighing, I walked inside the living room, immediately noticing the small drops of blood on the carpet in front of the TV. The small box was full once again with momentous. Then I remembered. Mama and Papa. How they lied to me. I pursed my lips together, crossing one arm over my chest. Where the hell was Brad? Then I noticed the small note placed neatly next to the box. I picked it up, my heart beginning to beat faster.

Jay,

I suppose you went out for a walk of some sort. I'm sorry I missed you, but I had a few things to take care off… I cleaned up a little, and put a few surprises in the fridge for you. I'll come 'round in the morning.

See you soon, babe,

Brad.

I pressed the note to my chest, breathing in deep. He was here… the night I ran off, he was here.

"Brad…" I whispered. I didn't give myself anymore time to relax. I pulled the rifle over my shoulder, and ran out the door. I ran to his house, pushing my legs to move forward quickly and urgently. He didn't come to Goodsprings. It even looked like he hadn't returned since he left the note. Once I reached the house, I swung the door open loudly, stomping inside.

"Brad?" I asked, looking around in a daze. He never cleaned up. Empty bottles and dishes were scattered everywhere that a flat surface was. I stumbled into his room, noting the tossed sheets and general emptiness of the place. My eyebrows forwarded as I continued to search the empty house. No ammo. No guns. No armour. He normally kept all of that in his little shack. But they were now all gone. Food, water and alcohol were still in the fridge, so I knew it wasn't raided.

"Brad, where are you?" I asked, more to myself than to anyone else.

( )

Even though there was something off about Brad not being in his shack, I focused on getting ready for my attack on Benny. All I needed were all of my guns, ammo, food, water, anything. And that was all the thinking ahead I really did. I pulled on a clean red top, ripped cargo pants, some hunting gloves, boots, my regular cowboy hat, and swung a backpack over my shoulders. It was cooler now without my hair, but strange. I also decide to pack a ton of bandana's to cover my scar. Not a lot of Legionaires hung out around here, but where I was going (which was wherever Benny had gone) there would be. Before I left for Primm, I decided to write a little note to Brad, explaining what had happened, and where I was going. Just as I had finished, my eye's caught sight of the box I had opened before. Digging through it quickly, I pulled out the red leather bound journal, and tossed it into my back pack. Then I opened the door, locked it, and went off into the wastes.