Chapter Text
Boone was more than hesitant to let Elsewhere go into that weird, empty casino by himself. He didn't know much about the Securitron calling itself Victor, but he knew that thing couldn't be taking Elsewhere anywhere safe. He had to take his- his friend aside before he went in, had to make him promise he would come back. Elsewhere gave him a look that he couldn't quite understand, told him that yes, he would come back and would be as safe as possible, then surprised Boone. One second he was looking at his courier's easy grin, avoiding eye contact for fear it would be the last time he ever saw those eyes, and the next he nearly had the wind knocked out of him by the force of Elsewhere's hug.
It took him a moment to register the affection. He hadn't been hugged in quite a long while, the closest thing to one being a casual arm over his shoulders while they sat at their campfire. This moment was one to be savored, he realized, and wrapped his arms around Elsewhere. With this gesture came more apprehension, a vicious fear in his chest that this could be the last time they were together. He held on tighter and rested his chin atop Elsewhere's head.
"You're good, Boone."
The words were muffled by the fabric of his shirt, but Boone could still hear them. He could still feel them. Elsewhere pulled back, tilted Boone's head down so they could make eye contact.
"You are a good person. I intend to come back to you, 'cause I wanna make you realize that."
Boone had to swallow a lump in his throat if he wanted to choke out a response. He cracked a hesitant smile.
"I don't understand why you want to. But you can try."
Elsewhere laughed at that, and Boone noticed the way he was holding his face and stroking his cheek and in that moment he understood. Elsewhere was strong, he was capable of taking on whatever opponents he met in the Lucky 38. Elsewhere wasn't going to let anything stop him from coming back to his sniper. His tenacious goal of convincing Boone he was a good person was enough to keep him alive, burning even brighter than his desire to kill Benny.
He wondered if Benny was in this casino. That would be odd, since they had passed the one he heard that doctor mention. The robot with the cowboy face made it seem like this meeting was an important one, though. One worth waiting to kill Benny for.
Elsewhere moved in again, giving Boone one last squeeze before heading back to the Securitron escorting him. The sniper followed behind, every nerve still processing the feeling of Elsewhere treating him so gently. He let himself feel loved.
Arcade was already sitting in the shade provided by the Lucky 38's slight awning, long legs splayed out across the concrete. He drew them in when Boone approached. The sniper wished they stayed put, so he could give one of the doctor's shins a hard kick. He sat down across from Arcade, legs crossed.
"So, what was that about?"
The question was innocent enough. Boone knew this trap, though, Arcade was going to use these innocuous questions to… Well, he didn't know what. He just knew it would be something bad.
"I gave him some advice." Boone said flatly. "For if he needs to kill one of those robots."
The researcher snorted. He pushed his glasses up by the corner, turning his attention back to the book he started while the other two men were talking. Boone squinted to make out the title.
"The Brothers Karamazov. I suppose it would be a little bit too complex for you, so don't even bother asking for it."
Boone wondered how hard he would have to punch Arcade to break those stupid glasses.
"If being a little polite doesn't kill you, I will."
"Oh, that's rich coming from you, Boone."
The sniper spat at Arcade, though he missed his face by a few inches. His target dodged, then turned to look at the mark left on the wall behind him.
"I don't know what he sees in you, honestly." Arcade faced Boone again, glaring disgustedly. "The whole 'participating in an imperialistic army responsible for massacring countless people' thing would've been enough to turn me off, anyway."
Boone could only sulk in response, adjusting his beret and his sunglasses compulsively. He didn't really have any hobbies, didn't have the time for them. When he was in Novac, he was either sleeping or up in the sniper's nest. Sometimes he would drink until he couldn't feel anything, but being with Elsewhere made him enjoy being able to feel. God, just thinking about him put a smile on Boone's face.
"You're in deep, huh?"
Boone snapped out of his daydream, automatically reaching for his gun. He stopped, though, fright turning into annoyance when he remembered Arcade's presence.
"In what? "
"Love, Boone. It's not hard to tell, you cling to Elsewhere like he's the only thing that matters. I mean, not always physically, you have a hard time with that. You can't stay away from him for more than a few minutes without getting antsy, though."
"You talk too much. Shut up."
Boone refused to look at Arcade, instead looking out towards the Strip. The sun was getting low on the horizon.
"You love him. He loves you back, Boone, you're just afraid of letting him in. Why?"
Boone shot Arcade another look, jaw clenched with barely-contained anger.
"I told you to shut up. Stop tryin' to get in my head, unless you want the contents of yours to paint that wall."
The researcher chuckled, turning the page of his book. This was a strange man, thought Boone. Had he really not looked up the entire time?
As the question entered his brain, Arcade looked up at him, eyes nearly owlish in their roundness. Being scrutinized like this was uncomfortable, but he had been a victim of worse during his psychological evaluation after Bitter Springs.
"I'm trying to help you out here." Arcade closed his book and folded his hands in his lap. "I'm not a threat to you, okay? I recognize that you two…" He gestured vaguely.
"If I tell you," Boone spoke through gritted teeth, "will you leave me alone?"
"Sure. I just want to help. Something tells me we're going to be here for a while, and I'm not a fan of silence."
Boone sighed. He adjusted his posture, cracked a few of his joints that had stiffened, and returned his gaze out to the skyline.
"I have bad things coming to me and the people I love. Well, I guess it'd just be the person. I don't know you or trust you enough to tell you why, all you need to know is that I made some bad decisions when I was in the NCR. Got married when my tour was up, and lost my best friend because of it."
Boone cleared his throat. He wasn't used to talking about himself, wasn't sure if he should even tell Arcade any of this information.
"We weren't together very long, but God I was… I was so happy . Carla was a few months pregnant, we settled down in Novac. One day, I woke up to an empty bed, and she never came home. Asked around, nobody knew what happened to her. The daytime sniper- Manny, we were best friends until I married Carla- said he saw some Legion raiding party the day she went missing. I put two and two together and realized she got sold out. Goddamn Legion slavers."
Arcade drew in a breath, still looking over at Boone.
"She's dead. I know she is. It's better than living like that." He coughed, tried to ease the lump in his throat. "Wouldn't've happened if I…"
He cut himself off again. Arcade wished Boone would turn his head so the sympathetic look he was giving him would mean something.
"Bad things, like I said. That isn't the end."
Boone looked down at his lap, surprised to feel his hands trembling from how hard he clenched his fists. He shook his head to clear it.
"The universe isn't punishing you."
"How would you know that?"
This earned a laugh from Arcade, one not self-assured or malicious.
"I'm a man of science. Karmic retribution like that doesn't exist, you've just had a statistically improbable bout of bad luck."
"It makes sense for these things to be happening to me. I don't deserve anything better, not after what I've done."
"All people make bad choices sometimes," said Arcade. "Like my father, or so I've heard. He was- uh, well, he was… He was also a scientist. Yes, er, he was working back in California."
"For the NCR?"
"No, ah, my mother never told me who he worked for; she just said that he started working for some bad people, and that he died because of it. He still had people who loved him, though."
He cleared his throat, then suddenly became very interested in an ancient spot of dried chewing gum on the concrete. Boone looked at the door. Elsewhere had been gone for a long time, and he feared the worst. After an achingly heavy silence, Arcade once again asked a question.
"How did you two meet?"
"Well. That also has to do with what that bitch did to Carla."
Sensing the anger Boone barely held in, Arcade interjected, "We don't have to talk about it if you don't want to."
"No. You asked, you'll listen."
Boone's scowl seemed to ease by the smallest amount as he thought about meeting the courier. Jealousy stabbed at Arcade, for he wished somebody cared that much about him.
"I was the evening sniper in Novac, so it must've been near ten that night when he damn near kicked the door to the sniper's nest open. I'd never seen him before. Told him to get lost. He asked if I was Craig Boone, asked if I knew about what happened to my wife. Didn't even answer before he shoved his Pip-Boy in my face."
He scowled again.
"Bill of sale for her. Like she's nothing more than an object. Said he found it in the hotel, in the safe under the desk."
Boone took a moment to process what he just said. He didn't realize at that time, and never gave it much thought afterwards, but Elsewhere was most likely trying to steal caps.
"Whatever karmic retribution is, that devil of a woman got it at fifteen-hundred feet per second."
Arcade let out a little gasp. He didn't expect the story to end in murder, which he supposed was a naïve optimism when it came to a First Recon sniper.
"I would've killed myself after that. That was my plan, anyway." Boone chuckled. "Kill whoever sold her, kill myself. Elsewhere got in the way of that. I think he knew."
It was hard to imagine Boone being suicidal. Granted, he wasn't exactly the pinnacle of animated, expressive, or alive people; but he certainly didn't seem to be the type to take his own life. Arcade had the urge to reach over and comfort him. The fear of grave injury kept him still, though.
Boone dug in his bag, fetching a pack of cigarettes and a dented zippo. Talking about himself this much made him anxious, and cigarettes calmed his nerves. Arcade's face soured when Boone lit his cigarette.
"Dirty habit, you know."
"Hope it kills me," Boone said with a smirk.
The next half hour was spent in silence; Arcade continued to read his novel, Boone smoked and took inventory of his supplies a few times. When the casino door opened and Elsewhere stumbled out, Boone stood as quickly as he could.
"Goddamn," he wheezed, "That place is big."
"What was Mr. House like?" Arcade closed his book again, that same owlish look on his face.
"Well, right now he's very dead. Bastard was a pig, and he got what he deserved." Elsewhere changed the subject, noticeably brightening. "There's a massive fuckin' penthouse here. Runnin' water and all!"
Boone's curiosity was piqued.
"Real mattresses?"
"Damn right, ol' buddy! Buncha books too, stims and other medical… stuff. Running water, though! Showers!"
Immediately after he finished talking, Elsewhere launched himself at Boone again. This time it was expected, so neither of them were knocked off balance.
"You're shaking," Boone murmured.
"I was all alone in there, Boone." Elsewhere's voice trembled, barely more than a frightened whisper. "All them robo-cops tried to kill me, I thought I was gonna die in there."
Boone pulled him closer, reaching up to stroke Elsewhere's hair. He could feel a lump of bandages on the underside of the courier's left arm and wondered if he pulled the bullet out himself.
"Tell y'all what," Elsewhere removed himself from Boone's arms, raising his voice so both he and Arcade could hear. "Let's go put our junk in there, shower up, maybe the good doc can help me with these bullet holes. Stay here for the rest of the day, kill Benny tomorrow. We deserve a break."
Arcade had already opened the door, looking back at the other two expectantly. They followed him inside, where Elsewhere cut in front to guide the group.
"Them rooms're spectacular, lemme tell ya. I just wanna stay here forever."
"You could probably live here after the Strip is stable again," Arcade suggested. "The rule of 'finders-keepers' would most likely work in your favor."
Elsewhere pushed the elevator button, losing his adrenaline fuelled faux-chipper attitude all at once. Both Arcade and Boone grabbed at an arm to steady the wobbling courier. After receiving a deadly glare, Arcade relinquished his hold so Boone could pull his courier close.
"It's the button labelled 'private,'" the courier mumbled, face pressed against Boone's chest.
Arcade entered first and pressed the button, leaving ample room for Boone to help Elsewhere inside. The small speaker in the elevator still worked, surprisingly, so faint muzak broke the silence.
With a faint ‘ding’, the elevator doors slid open, and the trio exited in the opposite order of their entrance.
"Let the doc take me, Boone. He ain't gonna try any funny business, and if he does, you know I'm a good shot."
Elsewhere gestured to his holstered pistol, even this gentle movement causing him to grimace in pain. Arcade shot the sniper an indecipherable look, arms outstretched to support Elsewhere. Boone guided him to the doctor, giving him a once-over glance.
"Go set your stuff in one of the bedrooms, 'kay? Get some rest, maybe. We're gonna be safe here for the rest of the night."
Elsewhere took Boone's hand in his own and gave it a gentle squeeze, flashing him a smile. Boone ruffled his courier's hair in response.
"I'll come find you after I've got him patched up, alright?"
Arcade smiled at Boone, trying to make some semblance of amends after hearing the tragedy of his life story. The sniper's expression didn't change, but he handed Elsewhere off without complaint.
"The room with all the meds was this way."
Elsewhere pointed feebly towards the direction opposite Boone. They set off, the courier allowing himself to be mostly carried by Arcade. Boone watched them go.
His head hurt again, he needed another cigarette.