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Courier Six wasn’t a stranger to the Old Mormon Fort, be it due to frequent traveling injuries or deliveries of a handful of medical donations picked up across the Mojave. She was always generous with her caps and it was thanks to her setting up a deal between the Followers and the Garret twins that operations had been running so smoothly.
She was a gift, really—a familiar face, someone everyone in the fort knew and greeted by name and she returned the favor. Julie Farkas didn’t question Six often because of this, only smiled and nodded and thanked and healed. Whatever she did was usually her own business and as long as she continued to support them, support Freeside, she kept her nose out of it.
But this visit was far from a typical healing session, and it was exactly why she couldn’t just keep quiet.
“I’m sorry, but who told you to peel an apple with a ripper, Six?” she asked as she did her best to salvage what remained of the woman’s ruined thumb, feeling only slightly annoyed that they had to waste a perfectly good Med-X when this entire situation could have been avoided, but not annoyed enough that her tone was anything but cordial—and just slightly weary.
“Look—it was just sitting there and I didn’t have a knife. The skin is—it’s just not pleasant, okay? Not a good feeling, grinding between my teeth.” Six spoke through the uninjured hand that was clamped across her clammy face as she looked anywhere but at the thumb that now lacked a fingernail as well as the skin it was once embedded in.
“It is not worse than getting an entire third of your thumb sliced off.”
“Could be worse.”
“This is…definitely not good.”
“Remember that pain chart I brought once? From an old clinic I ran across? On a scale of one to ten, this would be a, uh, two.”
“You say that now, but when you try to cock the hammer on your pistol, or grab for anything without thinking, you’ll quickly change your mind.”
“And that is why I came to you, Julie. You can patch this right up! It’ll heal nice and…nice.”
“I certainly hope you don’t see me as a walking Stimpak, Six.”
“I wouldn’t pay a Stimpak, Julie. I do pay for them, though…” She winced, squeezing eyes together tight, as a sharp needle pierced through her skin, drawing what remained together. Chems numbed the pain, but she knew it was there and could still feel it, in a sense. “Speaking of, I brought lots of things back for the fort! I found a really nice stash this time.” She used her good hand to tick off the inventory. “Half a dozen Fixers, a couple Med-X and ten, ten RadAways. I know things are going well, but you can never have enough, right?”
“That’s—” Julie paused, momentarily surprised she still thought of them while out in the wastes even after securing them a reliable supplier. “That’s wonderful, Six. Thank you for always coming through for us.”
She did wonder if Six ever kept any of the supplies for herself, though.
By the way she often donated in mass, even before the deal, by the way the hem of her shirt was stained with blood since she’d wrapped it around her thumb on the way here, she supposed no, Six didn’t keep a stock of medical supplies on her person. A simple doctor’s bag would have done the trick here, and she knew that. Even a Stimpak would have put off the bleeding and pain long enough for her to cauterize it in the wild and handle it, because she’d continued on for days with worse injuries and makeshift care in the past.
“However, we’re beyond adequately stocked at the moment. Please—keep some of that for yourself.”
“What? But Freeside—”
“Is well taken care of,” she assured. “I insist, Six. If anything happened to you out there, well—” She stopped short.
That wasn’t where the sentence was supposed to go.
Conversation between them was meant to remain in a pleasant, professional doctor-patient zone. Not—wherever that had been heading.
Suddenly, the small tower room at the corner of the fort felt a little too small and stifling and she really began to feel the sweat beading on her scalp. She snipped the black thread for the few sutures and began unwinding a roll of gauze, focusing on the task at hand and working in silence to forget about the minor slip-up.
Six didn’t let it go, though. “‘Well’ what?” she pressed, peeking sidelong at the doctor—more accurately at the top of her mohawk, somehow still one for getting queasy around wounds despite having suffered through the bleeding stump of a finger the whole way here. It was something about the mending and healing process, she claimed, that was way more intense than the gore itself.
“You’re important to the fort, Six. To Freeside. Too many would miss you, and grief is never good for a healing body.” The words were what she should say, she knew. Yet, in a peculiar way, they sounded wrong. Like she should be saying more, something else.
Her attention drifted, but her eyebrows drew together when she focused on Six’s hand resting within hers, already wrapped in gauze. Skin still numbed, Six surely couldn’t feel her fingers gently holding on and wouldn’t look down to see it—but even so, Julie pulled away and rose to her feet in one abrupt motion, wringing her hands together before wiping them on her lab coat.
Moving so suddenly drew Six’s attention and their eyes briefly met. If she wasn’t mistaken, Six’s eyes were a bit brighter and her cheeks were a bit rosier—but she didn’t look long enough to confirm it.
Six’s boots dragged across the floor as she stood and took a step forward, then stopped and dug into her pockets for caps.
“Would you miss me, Julie?” She held the caps in her good hand, jingling them idly, shrugging slightly. “I mean, uh, you said people would miss me. Are you, y’know, one of ‘em?” After asking, she offered the caps, eyes fixed on the corner of the door behind her.
She opened her palm, expecting Six to simply drop the payment, but instead her closed fist lingered there, rough skin warm.
Her eyes were definitely brighter.
Her cheeks were definitely rosier—red, even, all the way to the tip of the only ear she had left.
She slowly let go, leaving only the caps behind, and gripped her injured hand nervously—a bit too nervously, because she drew in a sharp breath that shocked them both.
Julie blinked several times, reflecting on whatever…that…was, and trying to string together a response.
Would she miss her?
Would she miss their deep, campfire discussions over the best ways of caring for addicts and showing them the path to sobriety; would she miss the way she brightened up everyone’s haggard days—her days—with stories of super mutants and robots, and ghouls flying to the moon; would she miss the day she dragged in deathclaw eggs for an extraordinary breakfast at only the cost of a broken arm; would she miss her grateful smile, awkwardly crooked and pulled up more to the right side, always genuine, that made a little feeling in her heart swell…
Her silence stretched on for far too long. She didn’t realize it until Six’s palm brushed lightly against her cheek—only for a brief moment, but long enough to leave a lasting impression. To leave the skin burning. To leave her heart fluttering.
“I miss you when I’m out there. Just saying.” Six brushed past her with a smile and pushed open the door, thanking her quietly before it shut behind her.
Julie stood there a long while in silence, looking over her shoulder at the door, fingers tracing her cheek as a smile worked its way across her face.
“I’d miss you, Six. I already do.”