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All the Roads We've Walked	By : Nevara_Alyss Category: +A through F > Fallout (Series) > Fallout (Series) Views: 2895 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Fallout: New Vegas, nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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Boone stood watch over the road. It’s sinuous form curved through the mountains and disappeared into the folds of the horizon. He’d been there once, not long before, and seen the ways of cruelty and disparaging processes. His own life hung in the balance of such cold contempt and isolation as love lay dying at his hand. Nothing could have made it any better at the crossroads he faced night after night. The philosophical deviation laid literally before his feet as a constant reminder that he was truly lost and had lost the things he had found most precious in his life.
He knew the dead routine and where it would take him: the bottom of the bottle of alcohol that he’d bought before his shift every night and the argument with his consuming anger that left him fighting not to end what little spark he had left. In his mind, he was dead the second he’d pulled the trigger and watched Carla’s body go limp through his scope. He’d killed them both by his ineptitude, his failed vigilance cost him everything and his wife and unborn child paid the price for him.
He peered through his scope toward the faint lights of the encampment. He could have said to hell with it, marched from his post and with guns blazing went down with as many of the bastards as he could, but Carla wouldn’t have wanted that. He let out a sigh and let slide the rifle from his shoulder. If he had just enough time and could just trust someone he’d find out why things went to the wayside so painfully. His suspicions only kindled more paranoid frustration that isolation seemed to be the safest course of action at the given moment.
It’ll only be a matter of time before…
Small beeps and chirps peppered the evening air alerting him to the beings in his vicinity. The gentle buzz of electronics whirred below him and a woman’s voice between the odd silences between each. He looked down at the figures as they walked toward the overpass. His breath hitched as she drew further away. Turn back. Go south or north, but no further east. He watched her through his scope. The small frame of the woman leaned against the rail. Her gaze would move from the floating orb beside her to the bright lights of New Vegas and down to her arm.
He could barely hear her words from his perch, but as a tiny flick of red danced over the railing he saw the woman turn back towards Novac and begin walking towards the town. He lowered his rifle and listened to the conversation as they drew closer. He could hear the exhaustion in her voice as she stopped by the small outcropping of rocks in front of him.
“I know what time it is, yes,” she replied, folding her arms and looking towards the hotel. The robot sent off a rambling string of blips and zings that had her staring carefully at her arm and to the mechanism that adorned it. She nodded and looked up to where he stood. “The other guy said he was going to be up there. I’m not worried about it.”
Boone stiffened slightly and took a step back. He wanted to be ignored. He preferred it over the alternative. He couldn’t rely on anyone. Not with this baggage; that had been proven already. Again, the woman and bot continued walking, until he couldn’t track them. Her voice faintly carried but dissipated into the ether, like the mist of blood on the water. He tried to shake the memory from his thoughts, but met with the resistance of his self-deprivation.
It was his punishment along with everything it entailed: the insomnia, the nightmares that wouldn’t subside even when he passed out from exhaustion. He refused to eat; he was slowly dying the only way he knew how. It was suitable to the chaos that persisted in the many hours that enthralled him with its melancholy charm. Distraction laced with cyanide laced decay was what he awaited as the minutes slowed to allow the minutiae of remembrance to solidify in his hands.
He heard the gentle jiggle of the door handle behind him and the creak of the hinges as the door opened. Instinctively, he turned on the infiltrator, gun drawn as they slid through the small opening they had created. He wanted it to be Legion coming to finish what they started, but his hopes were dashed once again. The barrel of his gun met mere inches from their face. Large hazel eyes looked past the weapon to him and slowly hands came up.
“Damn it, what are you doing here?” he growled, holstering his side arm. “You shouldn’t startle me like that.”
“I saw you up here, I thought I’d ask if you knew,” she began.
“Get out,” Boone ordered.
He turned his back from her and gazed back towards Cottonwood Cove. He seemed stuck, unable to come to terms with what had happened. Could anyone blame me? Would they even care if I walked there with my intentions set? He heard the subtle exhale and the door begin to open again. No one here can look at me. I don’t know who to trust anymore. I know that this woman wasn’t involved in Carla’s capture and a third party could help solve my dilemma. One of them anyways.
She was nearly gone when he opened the door and saw her on the stairs, the levitating bot hummed to her and she looked at it briefly before shaking her head.
“No, he didn’t know,” she replied. A slew of rapid digital noise erupted from her companion as it bobbed up and down frantically. “I know. We’ll head out tomorrow. Don’t worry your little head about it.”
“Wait,” Boone called from the door.
She turned to him, eyes full of curiosity, as he descended a couple of steps. The ramshackle bot got between the two of them and buzzed. It shook angrily and looked down upon the woman before droning deeply.
“ED-E! It’s alright,” she insisted. She glanced up at Boone, arms crossed and apologized. “He’s a bit temperamental right now.”
“No, I should be apologizing for how I acted,” he muttered. He let out a sigh and nodded for the door. As they walked up the few stairs and back out on to the perch, he hesitated to turn back to the woman. He didn’t mean to come-off as a prick, but if he could allow himself to give her an explanation she’d see why he had been so abrasive. All I have to do is tell her. “I need your help.”
Her eyes grew large at the statement; a small cock of the head, followed by leaning against the door and crossing her ankles in anticipation as to what he was about to say. It was a slightly confrontational posture, but she was all he had to rely on. If someone better suited came along for the task would it have mattered at that point?
“What is it?” she queried. Her eyes diverted to her feet as if in thought.
Boone let out an exaggerated sigh and explained to her what it was he needed. With each declaration he made, her head inched closer to her chest. It was like watching his burden weigh her down. Occasionally, she would nod and look up at him before resuming her posture. It was when he uttered that his wife was dead that she pushed from the door and examined him briefly. She started to open her mouth and he stopped her.
“I can’t trust anyone here,” he explained. “You’re an outsider. I just want to find the son of a bitch who sold my wife.”
“Alright. What do I need to do?” she questioned without a hitch.
His eyes darted around. I honestly didn’t think she would say yes. He pulled his beret from his head and handed it to her. She glanced at it and then to him. It was an awkward silence between them. He thought she was having second thoughts when she took the cap from him and nodded.
“Just bring them out here when I’m on duty. Put that on and I’ll handle the rest,” he stated. The hollow void in his gut filled with eager anticipation. He was so close to getting his answer. His reprisal and vengeance would be swift, just like Carla’s – which was more than they deserved – but wouldn’t linger like his dire punishment would. “We probably shouldn’t speak to each other until then.”
She nodded again and left him without a word. The chirps and beeps persisted until Boone heard the shop’s door close below. The soft crunch of gravel under foot trailed away and he found himself again staring at the crossroads. He felt the inevitability of a showdown catching up to him and he preferred to do it alone. Everyone that has ever interacted with me has been burned. It’s for their protection that whatever I decide I don’t drag them down with me.
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All the Roads We've Walked