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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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It was a gentle rain that splashed across the jagged stone of dinosaur teeth. The chill of autumn coated the land in petrichor tainted breezes. Two days of dreary weather and Boone hadn’t seen the mysterious woman. He rolled his head to and fro; the aches in his muscles grew in intensity as he leaned over the edge to see if he could see her.
He let out a sigh and resumed his tedious task. He felt the seeds of betrayal begin to grow in him as he waited. It shouldn’t have taken this long. He rubbed the weariness from his eyes and cleared his throat. Something should have happened to break up the monotony and speed up time from its apparent crawl. A bright white flash of lightning illuminated the surrounding landscape. Over the thunderous roar of the sky he could barely see through the increasing rain and hail that toppled down.
Boone then saw a strange sight below, the odd flash of fire below snuffing itself and reigniting its spark. He pulled his rifle around and looked down and saw the small dot of red amongst the darkness. He shifted his view to the person beside her. The familiar visage of Jeannie May dotted the center of his scope. He could see her lips moving; his excitement mounted. He licked his lips, adrenaline coursed. You’ll never see it coming.
He squeezed the trigger and the familiar crack and jerk of the gun sent the betrayer to the ground. A loud “Jesus Christ!” echoed in the air. He smirked callously. He was so focused on what he had done that he could only stare at her lifeless body. Satisfaction and the amount of degradation he thought she deserved for pay back should have pleased him, but deep down he was at a loss. It didn’t feel right. Why would she do it? He glanced over his rifle to see the woman down below.
She was looking up at him with a small furrow of her brow. The tin bot chirped softly and she put her hand up to stop it. She shook her head and began trudging through the puddles towards the dinosaur. When she was out of sight, he felt the jag of adrenaline and endorphins plummet. His muscles quaked in a mix of contentment and utter trepidation. Juxtaposition finally left its mark on him when the door to the sniper’s perch opened.
“Are you alright?” she questioned.
He kept his vigil over Jeannie May’s corpse. The squeak of the woman’s boots behind him drew closer. He could hear her breathing and then saw his red beret appear out of the corner of his eye. He turned his head slightly and politely took it from her. He placed it on his head and let out a sigh.
“How did you know?” he asked hollowly.
“I found the bill of sale,” she replied softly.
Boone let out a scoff and turned to the woman before him. “Figures.”
“What’ll you do now?” She queried, taking a wide brimmed hat from under her trench coat.
“I don’t know. I haven’t thought that far ahead. Kill as many Legion as I can and after that… no idea,” he said with a shrug. He glanced behind him to the overpass and the encampment that beckoned him. “You?”
“Boulder City,” she remarked. She took out a cigarette, lit it and peered over the side where the slaver laid dead. She was silent for a few moments before returning her attention to him. “You know, you could come with me.”
Boone shook his head. “I don’t think you want to go hunting Legionnaires.”
She squinted her eyes almost playfully and ashed her cigarette. She gave a final look at the woman below and walked to the door. He watched the subtle motions she made as if she’d been in thought the entire time. She almost seemed lost. More so than when he had last seen her. She opened the door and gave him a look of sincerity.
“You know, you’ll kill twice as many if we work together. And a sniper isn’t as good without a spotter,” she stated.
She turned from him and said good-bye. Boone was beside himself. He lowered his sunglasses and stared at her through clear eyes. Something about the unexpected sadness he heard in her voice socked him in the gut. She slipped through the door and was gone. Again he was alone, he’d gotten what he wanted, but he still felt as if the ends didn’t dissuade his anger. It only bolstered it to levels he thought it would never reach.
She’s right. I’m of no use here.
He flung the door open and heard the shop’s door close below. The radio played softly and was briefly overshadowed by the thunderous boom that shook the foundation. Pulling open the door and stepping into the torrential downpour, he saw her standing under the awning of the second floor, a lit cigarette between her fingers. Her companion whistled wistfully as she exhaled the grey smoke from her lungs.
A soft glow from her wrist lit up the soft features of her face. Her hands worked deftly for a moment and then she turned and went inside. Boone climbed the stairs, feeling the razor’s edge of rain tearing at his bare skin. His clothes were soaked and he was chilled to the bone. He saw the light in her window come on and the gentle croon of music emanating from the door. Her shadow moved around, disappearing for several seconds and then returning.
He examined the area and approached her door. He shouldn’t have felt awkward about it but here he was staring at the rusted plaque on the door. He lifted a fist to knock and stopped. This is stupid. I shouldn’t be bothering with this. He faltered in his reasoning to engage in dialogue with her. It’s late; she’ll be going to bed soon.

Winnie pulled her boots off, casting aside the trappings that made her appear to be a mercenary. It wasn’t the persona she wanted to project to the populace. She preferred simplicity over the marked intimidation the garment gave off. Her overcoat dripped over the dirty carpet on the rack and Ed-E chirped as it hovered on the opposite side of the room.
She slid further into her chair, letting her head rest along the back. Her eyes stared up at the brown stains that speckled the ceiling above the bed. Julie London’s smoky voice warmed the dimly lit room from the small radio beside the bed. She opened the nightstand and pulled a tumbler and bottle of scotch from the drawer. Letting her hair down and massaging the sting of her scalp away, she let out a sigh and poured the honey colored alcohol into the glass.
She took a small sip, letting the strong burn ease its way down into her stomach. The sweet aftertaste lingered. Exhaustion flooded her. The tension in her muscles relaxed as another gulp of booze melted away the icy ache. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the blasting white light of lightning outside her window. Her head rolled toward the window and the small black box she’d received earlier in the day. She hadn’t seen it in over six months and was thankful that the courier service had succeeded in getting it to her, given the state of the Wasteland.
She stuck her hand in her pocket to extract the key to the lock. She hadn’t been able to bring herself to look in it in over three years. It was her identity she’d sealed away. Everything that had mattered to her was left locked up inside. The faces of the departed, the mementos of her spirit, all entombed in the box. They were the tangible elements of her past, the choke chain she couldn’t seem to shake off. It was bad enough she had the memories of her life still in her mind, the physical remnants only amplified the reality.
The small metallic tinge of the key against her fingertips hurried a flood of retrospective snapshots – some good, others bad - happier times that could only be deliberately pushed aside by the counterstroke that life always seemed to provide as a grounding agent. Ed-E let out a remorseful purr, breaking her from her concentration. The small floating bot hovered beside her as if examining her facial expressions.
“No, it’s alright. I’m fine. Just thinking,” she replied with a weak smile.
She pulled her hand from her pocket and rested it on the table. Her fingers drummed delicately before placing the glass to her lips. She finished off her drink and rose from the rickety chair. She stretched her body and let out a yawn. We have an early day ahead of us; we should get some rest. She unlashed her holster from her hip and placed it on the nightstand, followed by the sheath she kept for her combat knife. When she was satisfied with her level of comfort she let out an approving snort and reached for the light switch.
It was just another night to her, with the exception of the knock at the door.
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All the Roads We've Walked