The day was slow.

Sure, for most people that would be a problem, but if you are a 51 year old doctor of a small town of around 50 people, then that's generally a good thing. It means nobody ended up with their leg eaten by a gecko, or bullet wounds due to an escaped convict getting too cocky. Or one of trudy's patrons having a bit too much and falling into a mole rat den. That one was particularly bad.

Sure, it was boring, but for Doc Mitchell, that peace was well and earned. As he was sat down reading in his chair, an old medical drama his wife used to like, he heard someone knocking coming from the front door. He got up, moving towards the door, opening to a sight of a Securitron. Doc Mitchell's internal confusion and was put down by the bot speaking up. "Well howdy partner!" He said, old cowboy speak through a dented rusty speaker ringing out of it. "D'ya think you could help the little lady here?" Looking down into the robot's claws, he could see a dusty body, long blue hair framing a bloody face. Grabbing the girl and moving her over to his medical bed, he got a closer look at the near-corpse brought in.

The girl couldn't be older than 15. Discounting malnutrition, which is unlikely, considering her long hair. The wounds were two bullet holes in her head. The first, etched directly above the left eyebrow, was confusing to the old doctor. It had pierced both the skin and muscle, but there were no visible marks on the skull indicating entry. The area was cracked, but would heal easily compared to what 9mm should either had a thick skull, or she got lucky.

The other wound was worse. Seems like whoever had the gall to attempt child murder at least attempted to confirm the kill. Entered from the right temple, possibly fractured in the brain. She'd need surgery to remove it, and thankfully, the goodsprings doctor could deliver. All he'd need to do is make sure everything was in the right place when he was done.

"I don't know, it reminds me a bit of a wound?" His patient told him, brown eyes staring at the rorschach test presented on the music stand. She'd had gotten up about a few minutes ago, and seemed to have been functioning well. She'd been able to get up and walk to both the vigor tester and his couch without falling down. What he was worried about was the mental; The girl had not had a lick of how she'd gotten here, who had shot her, and anything before waking up. Although her score on the tester in intelligence seemed fine, many of those scores being so high after a severe brain injury did bring it into question.

So, he'd sat her down on her couch and got to testing. Her first word answers were common enough ("Night?" "Dream" she responded, a longing look on her face, although she herself could not tell why.) although one was concerning. ("Bandit" "Crush." She said simply.) The questions before the rorschach had painted a picture of someone who was on their own, so that might explain how she ended up with two bullets in her head.

As he moved the image over to reveal the next, her face wrinkled as she looked at it with a small frown. "Something wrong?" the doctor asked. His patient responded with an answer that didn't exactly surprise him for someone with amnesia. "... Someone pointing upwards? Sorry doc, just set something off up here." She pointed at her head. "Just barely not remembering something." The doc looked at her with sympathy. "Well, hope that means you can get to remembering what happened quicker." he responded. "Now lets go to the last one."

He showed her the last one, and from what previous information he'd gathered, it didn't surprise him. For some reason, the last test would always have a unified group of responses, and the usual people who gave that response were, in the Doc's opinion, some of the most eccentric people he'd ever met.

"Two bears high fiving!" She says enthusiastically.

As he helped her get up and out, he was asked one particular question. "Do you think my memory will come back?" He responded to her with all he could. "Well, your noggin took a bad hit, but I reckon it wasn't as damaged as to fully lose everything permanently. Give it a week or two, and you should have recovered most of everything." He showed her to the door, some knickknacks he had no use for in her hands. "Now remember to talk to Sunny, she should be able to get you set in." She stepped out, answering with a small "Thanks, Doc." before hopefully going down to the saloon to talk to Sunny Smiles.

He shut the door. He went over to what patient notes he'd written down while doing surgery on the girl that just walked away. In case she came back (which he could only guess she would), any information could give information about possible future afflictions and possible associations, should they be with unsavory figures. He'd had to cut parts of her skull open to get out the debris from the second bullet, so notes from that procedure were present. Her skull was unusually thick, and hard to break through with what surgical tools he had. However, that could just be explained by errant mutations, as could greater inconsistencies with the mush known as her brain. What really concerned him, was the tattoo. Upper arm, Blue, shaped like some kind of bird.

The Doc had heard about some tribes to the east and north that used similar tattoo markings, at least before the legion came around. Her being from one of those tribes looked likely. However, He's also heard of the Vipers and Jackals using tattoos for representing In-groups within their gangs. Despite her seeming predisposition to violence, he couldn't see her hurt a fly, seemingly bumbling around and apologizing anytime she knocked anything over. She just didn't seem like the person.

4 months later, and you could only imagine what he thought when he learned about the legend that was Courier Six.

AN:Hiya! Welcome to this little fic idea I started a month ago to get me back into the groove of writing. The entire of the fanon identity death surrounding the courier is something that I'm surprised somebody hasn't used to shove one of

their favorite characters in FNV before. The disposition of writing "Dragon Slayer healer" Wendy Marvell into "Lord Death of Murder Mountain" Courier Six is something I am going to enjoy.

A lot of this story is gonna be me leaning back into writing again, so give any constructive Criticism in the Reviews.