Chapter Text
“Good luck up there, man. I almost died of boredom.” Manny Vargas once again tried to make passing conversation as he and Craig Boone switched off their shifts. Boone once again ignored him, staring straight ahead as he passed his… acquaintance without a word.
Boone didn’t really know what he and Manny were anymore. It wasn’t like he could just forget the 14 years they'd been best friends. But with how he and Carla were, and how Boone knew someone in Novac had sold her, he couldn’t trust anyone. Especially someone who had so openly hated her. It seemed every night now Boone would go to his watch shift and just brood for 12 hours. He wanted to find out who did this. But if he tried he’d just be the next to go. He wanted to crush the skulls of every damn legionnaire in the Mojave but he wasn’t even able to take on 5 from a distance. He wanted to talk to someone again for the first time in weeks, but he couldn’t because every time he looked at another citizen of this stupid town he could only think ‘what if it was them?’. So instead he watched the empty desert all night and tried to sleep all day. No point in really doing anything else.
He was about 2 hours into his shift when movement in the distance caught his eye. He moved closer to the edge of the Dinosaur’s mouth, steadying his rifle in between the statue’s teeth. He looked through the night vision scope on his gun. It appeared to be some people running in his general direction. He watched the figures for a bit longer until they got closer. When they did he could make out more distinguishing features. Sports gear flapping in the wind. Three legionnaires chasing someone, and gaining. They weren’t coming for Novac so killing them might put some unneeded legion attention on the town. On the reverse, Boone didn’t particularly care that much about Novac anymore and he would get to blow some legionnaire brains out. One of the slavers threw a bolas at the person’s legs—a woman, Boone thought. She opened her mouth, likely a yell, and fell hard. Her head hit rubble that used to be a road and ricocheted off of it. She was clearly dazed as she pushed against the dirt, trying feebly to get up. She wasn’t even close by the time the legionnaires reached her.
Boone took a deep steadying breath. He shot the one kneeling on her back before he even really registered he was getting involved. Not that he would have left her to be taken anyways. He was never leaving someone like that again, if he could help it. Wasn’t ever gonna see crimson in his scope again without pulling the trigger. The other two jumped up at their friend's head exploding. One of them tried to grab the girl while the other ran for cover, looking around as he did to try to find the source of the shots. The girl was still out of it from her likely concussion but she struggled away from the legate anyways. Boone couldn’t get a clear shot on either of the men so he waited, watching the struggle while he looked for an opportunity. The two scrambled for a bit before the girl was able to make it onto her feet. Her arms were bound so she aimed a kick at the legate’s face. He dodged and slashed her thigh with his machete. The girl collapsed to the ground giving Boone the shot he needed. 2 down one to go. The last one decided to try to run. Last mistake he’d ever make. He was dead in seconds.
Boone pointed his scope back to the woman. She didn’t look good. The gash in her leg was deep. Blood soaked her jeans to black. She tried to press down on the injury with bound hands. Not thinking straight. She opened her mouth again in a pained cry.
Boone huffed through his nose. He was just going to take out the threat and then forget about her, but she was gonna bleed out within a couple of minutes at this rate. She wasn’t stimming herself so he assumed she didn’t have one. Or the head injury and blood loss was pairing to take her sense. He sighed again. Threw his gun on his back and quickly made his way down into the gift shop. Cliff jumped as Boone burst through the door and ran to the counter.
“Do you have a stimpak?” Boone asked as he grabbed a bottle of vodka that was sitting on display.
“I- uh yeah.” Cliff crouched to one of the shelves under his counter, he found one and began to hand it to Boone, “Are you oka-” Boone grabbed the stim out of his hand.
“I’ll pay for it when I get back.” before Cliff could respond he was out the door and running out the front gates towards the girl. It only took a bit over a minute to get to her. Boone hadn’t run like that in weeks, but his training meant he was hardly winded. The woman looked sickly pale as she weakly tried to put pressure on her leg. When she noticed Boone’s approach she whimpered and tried to scoot back away from him. Just ended up kicking some dirt. She was weak and sitting in a pool of bloody mud. A stim might not save her at this rate. He’d still try.
“I’m helping you,” Boone stated as he knelt next to her. Unscrewing the cap to the vodka bottle, he held her leg in place and poured the liquid over her wound. She cried out and wriggled. No longer trying to get away, she was in pain. That was a good sign. Meant she wasn’t so gone she couldn’t feel anymore. Boone picked up the stim he’d put on the ground and poured some more alcohol over the needle before sticking her. Her cries raised then turned to whimpers as the medicine did its work. The bleeding slowed and Her skin binded together at the edges of the cut, but it would still need bandages to stave off infection. He wouldn’t leave her out here, that’d be a waste of a stimpak. He’d take her back to Novac.
“Can you stand?” He looked at her face for the first time. She was very pretty. Long red hair blew softly in the wind as it escaped her messy ponytail. She seemed to have lots of freckles but half of her face was spattered in legate blood so it was a bit hard to tell. Her lips were pale and chapped. She looked to be about his age, though it was hard to tell in the dark.
“I- uhh” she sounded weak and confused. After a beat of staring at him she tried to move to stand. She was shaky and clumsy. Boone stood to give her a hand but as soon as she tried to put weight on her leg she cried out and crumpled. Boone caught her before she fell completely and hoisted her up with his arms under hers. Splats of blood spilled from her onto the dirt. Boone held her up with one arm and reached down to pick up the vodka with the other. He pushed it into her hand. She grabbed hold and cradled the bottle to her chest.
It would take them ages to limp back to town like this. Be better just to carry her.
“I’m gonna pick you up,” Boone said. The woman nodded, clutching the bottle like a teddy bear. Unfocused. It was debatable whether she had heard him at all but she did allow him to pick her up, not that she had much strength to refuse. He walked them back towards the lights of the town, standing out as a beacon in the dark.
Boone used to hate being on the night shift.
It had been hard for him and Carla to spend time together. Boone would have to sleep most of the day and Carla couldn’t bear never seeing the sun. The arrangement caused a lot of stress on their relationship. They started arguing more when they did see each other. Boone was always tired. Carla was always lonely. She seemed to lash out at Novac itself. Blaming the land and the people on it for her misery.
Manny had always disliked Carla, Boone could never figure why, and when Boone and Carla’s relationship became more strained, dislike turned to thinly veiled hate. Boone had asked Manny to switch shifts so he could spend more time with her and try to fix their relationship. Manny had refused, saying their problems were caused by Carla and no schedule change was gonna fix that. It seemed like Manny inexplicably wanted their troubles to get worse.
Manny tried to tell Boone to get over it shortly after she’d been taken. In kinder words, if such a sentiment could carry any sort of kindness. That was the final straw for Boone. He hadn’t spoken to Manny for months after that last fight, and he was still on the night shift. Not that it was a problem anymore. In fact, Boone liked it better now. The only person he had to interact with occasionally was Cliff. And Manny when he tried to talk to Boone in passing. But he was too tired to make any real effort after his 12 hour watch.
Night watch was helpful now as Boone carried this bloodied, half-dead girl to his room. She had passed out on the way, but she was still breathing. That was all the better for Boone. He didn’t care to make small talk with a stranger as he dressed a wound on her inner thigh.
He set her down on his bed—the only one he had—and went to collect some medical supplies out of his bathroom. He wet a rag and grabbed some butterfly closures and cloth bandages. He wasn’t really sure how he was gonna do this with her wearing pants. He’d have to cut or take them off inorder to fully clean and bandage the wound. He was very uncomfortable with either idea. After a minute of thinking he decided to just clean off what blood he could through the rip in her jeans, apply the butterfly closures, and leave the rest of the supplies with her so she could do it herself when she woke up.
The woman’s skin was soft and sticky-wet with drying crimson. Boone really couldn’t access the wound well as it was. He grabbed the damp edges of the rip in her jeans and tore a bit more of the fabric with a short grunt. He wet the cloth and wiped her skin to better see the wound before it could fill with blood again. Nasty scar tissue from unstitched stim closure wrinkled and puffed the edges of the cut. Boone used the wet and bloody cloth to halfheartedly clean his figures before he applied the butterfly closures. It was good enough, would clot soon, and she was still breathing.
He left the supplies on his dining table and grabbed 100 caps from his locked bureau. He also grabbed the half full vodka before heading back to the giftshop. Cliff was still at his counter, looking a bit nervous. The nervousness turned into shock and maybe fear as Boone walked in, the front of his white shirt coated in blood.
“Jesus! Boone, are you alright?”
“Yup. Here’s your caps.” Boone dropped the sachet of money on the counter and walked back up the stairs without another word.
“What-” The door closed behind Boone in the middle of Cliff’s questioning. He really wasn’t in the mood for an interrogation right now. He sighed and slumped heavy into the crappy box seat chair in the sniper's nest. He took a swig of the vodka. Nine more hours to go.