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wiltf · 2 years

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ed-e was outside keeping watch. low beeps indicating that it was all clear, just as another lock pick snaps. wobbly hands and low light. didn’t want to count how many hours she’d been up by for now, and while there was a passing thought of the room bought and waiting to be slept in, after what she’d overheard from noonan. well.

finally, there is the click of success, and eve does little but wipe her brow, before pulling it all out. normal sort of shit shoved into a safe: caps, a handmade ashtray that was cracked, rusted gun. like it might help, short of needing to open the safe first. always the goddamn issue with these people. sticky hair on the back of her neck, and eve fans herself one last time, before reaching in at the bottom, fingernails meeting metal, rock,

paper.

some people liked to hold onto the old money. flash it, like it meant something. more than once she’d seen a poor bastard try to pay off the tables with it, only to meet the concrete teeth first. this paper was different. thicker, for starters, and with a whistle in ed-e’s direction, she holds it up to the light shining through the window.

“well, fuck me dead.”

everything packed back in, neat and tidy, like it hadn’t been rummaged through in the dead of night. slipping back out through the door, ed-e’s side compartment opens, and the bill of sale is folded in half, tucked in safely. goddamn legion.

“could use a shower, eddie, ‘fore we go crawling through hell.”

solitary beeps, with what might’ve been a nod. suggestion of a nap, even. all in the way that ed-e continues to talk, with feet that drag up to the room provided. distance and route mapped, and if ed-e could speak, might’ve been a tease there, about how they were going to save the day.

but those were tired thoughts, and eve doesn’t make it to the shower. the pillows have scratchy cases and the sheets were threadbare. too tired to think about it, face down in the motel. until a slight turn, to see that illuminated monster of a dino right outside. last thought, before eve shuts her eyes, was that she should’ve closed the curtains.

for as soon as she wakes, to ed-e’s humorous attempt at rousing her, the dino was still there. sickly green and peeling, but there. complete with another round of ed-e singing that little charge, bobbing back and forth. pitches left, as the pillow eve throws blindly soars past, just as she all but crawls into the shower. radiated. definitely shouldn’t open her mouth in the shower.

gargles.

spits.

rinse and repeat and a stumble out, towards a towel that was too small and patchy. barely dried anything, and if this was middle of nowhere, mojave, eve might’ve just aired herself. but there’s movement outside, and some part of her had the foresight for nabbing those clothes from that house behind the motel. button up and pants that hugged her thighs lovingly — and not one damn hole in sight.

“y’ready?”

a happy beep follows heavy boots. out the door, locked behind her. the rust on the handrail of the stairs catches on eve’s gloves, and there’s probably something to be said about it. especially when the sun was barely rising over the desert, and jeannie may was setting herself up for the day. ed-e doesn’t need to be told to wait outside. keeping watch again, but different this time. bell rings as eve walks in, and she’d only done this a dozen other times. shit never changed, even as the smile jeannie may gives her was all kinds of sour. twirling the key around her finger, eve leans on the counter. both their eyes on her right hand,

ignoring the left.

“was the room to your liking?” pleasantries pushed through goddamn wire. whether jeannie may was waiting for the key to drop was not important. what was the most important thing was the way she reacted to hearing the telltale sound of metal meeting the counter top. aimed away, for now, as the key continued to swivel around.

“beautiful. got me wondering about all them other spare rooms now, though.” even if there was a brow raise, there still was the eyes that darted down. out the window. looking and waiting for someone else to pass on by. but eve knew no one would be coming past this way. not just yet, at least. jeannie may knew that too, she just didn’t want to admit it.

“what room were you thinking of?”

“boone residence. heard there’s a recent vacancy, what with the wife running off, husband following not long after.”

“well, she was always talking about going back to the strip,” comes around a heavy swallow. “must’ve been their time, i guess. some folks just aren’t cut for living outside the city.”

“mmm, that is true, jeannie may. but y’know what i think?” eve looks down then, knowing that her moves were being followed. angled the gun now, catching the key in her right. “i think that some girls just ain’t made to run all the way back to new vegas.”

“you an expert on girls and their going-about wherever?”

eve shrugs, “no, but i’m an expert in picking a goddamn lock.”

if jeannie may wanted to make a leap for a weapon, it wasn’t there. the look on her face tells her so, just like all the colour going way down south, to where that safe under her feet continued to sit, rusted gun and all.

“we both know what was in there, ms crawford.” with that, the key meets the top of the counter, eve standing back upright. gun holstered, smile in place. “and with all due respect, i ain’t got much time for the legion, nor people who sell pregnant women into slavery. i didn’t know a carla boone, but you better hope i find her alive. or i’ll be back, ma’am.

“and that’s a fucking promise.”

#fnv #oc: eve #ch: jeannie may crawford #post: fanfic

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ourlittleforever · 5 months

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Blue Moon

Boone/Courier

Rating: T

Words: 3351

Kinda-sorta pre-relationship fluff, for feelings that are a long way away from being fully explored.

Also on AO3!

Note - There are some sections of dialogue taken directly from the game, like when Boone is describing Carla's death, the Bitter Springs massacre, etc. I just felt like what was in the game was perfect and any attempt to rewrite it was gonna end with me screwing it up

Millie was one of the strangest people Boone had ever met.

When they came to Novac, they marched to the top of the dinosaur at midnight to introduce themselves to him. And like an idiot, he’d mentioned Carla. Millie offered their sympathies – and then, to his surprise, they offered their help. “I’ll look around,” they’d said, and the next night, they had proof Jeannie May Crawford had sold Carla off, and the old bitch was dead on the ground.

Millie had handed Boone his beret back with a soft look on their face. “So what’s next for you?”

“I don’t know,” he said.

The courier looked out across the stark desert with a slight smile. “I’m going to New Vegas. To find the man who shot me.”

He’d forgotten that Millie had been shot. They certainly didn’t behave like someone who’d taken two bullets to the brainpan, prancing about naively with a big grin and friendly disposition.

When he said nothing, Millie continued. “I heard Carla loved New Vegas. You should come with me.”

Boone pursed his lips. He had nothing left here in Novac – and if he was going to die on his own terms, it’d have to be out in the wasteland, not rotting here. “Fine by me.”

Millie grinned. “Awesome! We’ll leave tomorrow morning, ‘kay?”

Boone wondered if this was the last mistake he’d ever make.

—

Millie was easy company, for the most part. They couldn’t shoot worth a damn, usually oblivious to bugs and raiders until Boone took them out with his trusty rifle. How had they ever become a courier? Maybe they were more observant before the injury, he thought.

Still, Millie was cheerful and easy to get along with. They sometimes prodded at him for information, but when he didn’t budge, they knew better than the press further. He and the courier could travel in comfortable silence for hours, and when it was time to talk, they usually did all the talking.

They tried to dig at their own memories during these conversations. Millie admitted that they had amnesia (perhaps that was why they couldn’t remember how to use a pistol), and this frustrated them. “The only things I know are my name and my age, ‘cause those were on me, on my ID,” they explained. “Everything else was scratched out.”

“On your ID, or in general?”

“Both,” they replied with a sigh. “Millie d’Fleur; 23 years old.” They frowned, staring off into the distance, as if trying to form some image of their past.

“No way you’re 23. You look like a kid.”

“I get that a lot,” Millie laughed, scratching a scab on their cheek. “It’s just ‘cause I’m really short, huh?” They couldn’t be more than five feet tall.

“You act like a kid, too.”

“Then it’s good you’re here to look out for me, huh?” They nudged his arm. “I get the feeling that I always wanted a big brother.”

Boone stayed quiet. He wasn’t the kid’s brother; he wasn’t sure what he was to Millie. A friend? They thought of him as one, certainly.

“I think… I think I had a sibling. A brother or sister. Younger than me, though.” They looked up into the twinkling starlight. “And my grandmother. I remember her better. But she’s still… so vague.” They frowned. “I can’t remember her face. I wish I could. I know that I loved her.” Millie pulled their knees up to their chest. “Maybe after I find the checkered-suit-man, I can try and find out who I was – who I am. Someone’s got to know, right?”

“Right,” he grunted.

They laid down on their bedroll, staring up to the stars. “Thanks for talking with me, Craig. I appreciate it.”

Craig? No one had called him that in years. He didn’t even refer to himself by his first name anymore. It felt odd. Still, Boone didn’t correct them.

“Yeah,” he said, and he watched the desert until it was time for him to sleep.

—

Boone soon learned how Millie had managed to survive in the Mojave: charm.

He was starting to learn their behavior, how they could soothe even the gruffest old man or the most hysterical, wailing woman. A gentle touch on the shoulder, the slight tilt of their head, their lips curving into a slight, knowing smile as they spoke confidently and calmly: this was how Millie navigated the NCR, not with a blazing gun, but with a sharp, cunning charisma.

Not that they seemed to realize it, of course.

The two were standing in front of the King, some religious leader operating out of a “School of Impersonation.” So prestigious, Boone grumbled to himself. Still, the King was respectful, especially as he asked Millie to solve yet another problem for him. Someone was kicking up trouble with the NCR at the soup kitchen, and the King couldn’t solve it his damn self.

“Of course,” they replied, that knowing smile playing out across their features. “I’ll head there right away.”

As soon as the duo were out of the building, Boone turned to them and asked, “Why are we doing this? Don’t you have someone to catch up to?”

Millie shrugged. “He needs help.”

“He could help himself.”

“He might lose his reputation,” Millie countered. “Who knows? The NCR might shoot him on sight if they see him walking up.”

“The NCR –” Boone paused. The NCR wouldn’t do that, he was going to say, but he knew that was dead wrong. “Fine.”

“You don’t have to come with me.”

I kind of do, Boone thought. If there really was a shoot out – if Millie couldn’t defuse the situation – they’d need his help. He said nothing.

As it would turn out, the King’s idiot friend had tried to take on the NCR alone.

Lucky for him, Millie was there, and they knew exactly what to say.

“I’m so sorry, Major Kieran. The King had no idea about this; he asked me to come and patch things up between y’all and the Freeside citizens,” Millie said, tilting to their head to right slightly, and Major Elizabeth Kieran was putty in their hands. “You see, there’s a lot of sickness and starvation in Freeside. He just wants his people fed. He didn’t intend to fight you.”

Major Kieran pursed her lips. “Our envoy…”

“He’s awful sorry about that.” A hand on the shoulder, and the major was done for. “Here, I can walk you over to the Kings, and you can talk it out. Maybe come to an agreement – pool your resources together so everyone gets fed.”

“We’ll see,” Major Kieran said, glancing at her fellow soldiers. She looked over at Boone with an expression that screamed What the hell, soldier? He simply shrugged.

Millie and Boone left. “That wasn’t so bad,” they commented cheerfully.

“You’re lucky they didn’t stick a gun in your face the minute you walked in, kid.”

“I am quite lucky,” they chirped with a grin.

They walked in silence for a bit, before Boone’s curiosity got the better of him. “Why did you insist on helping the King and Major Kieran?”

Millie sighed. “Look around, Craig. This place… it’s awful. People are starving, addicted to chems, wasting away… If I can make even a little bit of difference, make someone’s life just a little bit better, why shouldn’t I try?”

Gonna get yourself killed doing that, Boone thought. Still… It was a nice thought, wasn’t it? Even if it was foolish and naive – that someone could waltz in, fix a problem, make a couple people happy, and leave, knowing they made a “difference.”

Good thing they had him around to keep them safe, then, if that really was Millie’s goal.

—

“So what all did that robot have to say?” Boone asked as Millie stepped out of the hole in the wall. They brushed drywall from their short brown hair, shaking out their locks and frowning.

“Benny’s got the Platinum Chip, which is like… this super important upgrading device. Mr. House wants it, and Benny does, too. To take over New Vegas, the Hoover Damn. Or, in House’s case, I guess, enforce his, uh, presidency.” Millie rubbed their eyes. “Or… Yes Man said he could help me, if I took the chip.”

“If you took the chip? The robot suggested that?”

“He did. His programming is… well, Benny made him too friendly and open, it seems.”

“Where’d that bastard go, anyway?”

Millie swallowed hard. “He’s… he’s at the Fort.”

Boone’s heart was lead. Fortification Hill, the capitol of the Legion. Caesar’s palace.

“You don’t have to come,” Millie said, laying a hand on his bicep. “I know it’s…”

“You told me you were going to try and take down the Legion,” Boone replied, his voice graven. “Is that what you’re gonna do?”

Millie nodded.

“Then I’m going with you.”

There was a slight twinkle in the courier’s eye at that. “We’ll leave in the morning.”

—

Boone had been silent the entire battle through Cottonwood Cove. Swarms of Legionnaires had attacked, and he’d taken them out with deadly efficiency; for what it was worth, Millie’s aim had improved significantly, and they managed to score a few kills of their own. When all was said and done, he and Millie stood on the boat dock, and they beamed proudly at him.

“You saw that headshot I got, right?” they babbled excitedly, their hunting rifle slung haphazardly over their back. “It was so cool!”

Boone simply grunted.

Millie’s face fell, and he felt rather sorry. “Are you okay?”

“Fine.”

“You’re not,” the courier responded, tilting their head slightly. Don’t do that. Please. “You don’t have to tell me anything, Craig, but you know I’m here for you. Right?” They laid a hand on his shoulder, reaching up as far as they could, their arms almost too short. “You’re not alone.”

“This is where…” Boone looked away. He almost couldn’t stand their sympathy. He didn’t deserve it. “Carla. She... I tracked her down. Southeast, near the river. They were selling her. Saw it through my scope. Whole place swarming with Legion. Hundreds of them. Bidding for things no man has a right to. I just had my rifle with me. Just me, against all of them, so... I took the shot.”

Millie’s eyes were shiny with tears as Boone continued. “What they do to women... that's worse than death. There was no choice in what I did. It was more like... being forced to watch something you can't stop. All this was only ever going to play out one way. It still is. I don't have any say. All I can do is wait for it to be done with me.”

“You have a say now,” Millie said, their fingers curling in his dirty T-shirt.

“I should've never gotten close to her. I've got bad things coming to me. You'd better keep your distance, too.”

“You can still go back, if you want to. I know this is hard for you. I can deal with Caesar–”

“No,” he replied sharply. “He’d take you away, too.” Shit. He didn’t mean it to come out that way. “I mean – I… you would get hurt. If I’m there, then you stand a better chance.”

Millie studied him carefully, glistening tears rolling down their dirtied face. “Then we’ll do it. For Carla. For everyone.”

Boone couldn’t stop himself from almost smiling.

The two stepped onto the raft.

“This might be the last boat we ever take,” the sniper muttered.

“Then let’s make the most of it, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

—

Caesar was dead.

The bastard lay on the ground face-down, blood pooling around his body, turning the dirt crimson. Millie and Boone, along with Rex, were surrounded by dead Legionnaires, and he felt a deep sense of pride. Maybe he had things left to do in this life, after all.

“What next?” he asked, wiping the blood from his brow.

“I’ve gotta get into the Fort,” Millie replied, slinging their gun over their shoulder. “See about the Platinum Chip, what’s up with alla that. And then…”

It was eerily quiet in the camp. The courier turned, scanning the area, their eyes catching on a slave cage. A few women skittered from the bars, clutching each other in fear. “We free them,” Millie declared.

“And those boys?” Boone asked, a bitter taste in his throat. The little boys outside the camp – future legionnaires. It made him ill.

“We’ll take them to the Followers. Maybe that can set them on the right path. Clear out all the hate.” Millie was oddly stern yet serene. They examined the Platinum Chip in the low evening light. “I’ll go down into the bunker, if you’ll let the slaves free. Make sure they’re allowed into the food stores and stuff. Once we get back to Cottonwood Cove, we’ll radio the NCR, and they can clean up here, get everyone out, since we don’t have enough room on the raft. Or we can head back to Freeside, and I can call in that favor with the King…”

“You have an answer for everything.”

“I have to, right? People are counting on me.” They looked up at Boone, their face deadly serious. “I’ll be right back.” Millie knelt and petted Rex behind the ears. “Stay with Craig, buddy. Be good.”

—

When Millie returned from the bunker, Boone had managed to round up the slaves in the center of camp, passing out food and pure water to the women. A little girl had run off and gleefully found her torn-up teddy bear before returning for a meal.

There was a strange, distant look on Millie’s face as they sat by a fire far from the others, snacking on a few pinyon nuts. Rex whined at their feet, and they absentmindedly scratched under his chin.

Boone sat across from them, sharpening his machete. One ghost from his past had been put to rest – shouldn’t he feel better? But Bitter Springs hung heavy on his mind. He could kill all the legionnaires he wanted, but it wouldn’t change what had happened at Coyote Tail Ridge. His chest felt tight.

He glanced at Millie, who was still lost in thought. “What happened in the bunker that’s got you all shook up?”

“Oh!” Millie blinked, then shook their head, as if shaking their thoughts away. “It was Mr. House’s Securitron army. The one Yes Man wanted me to find. Well, and Mr. House, too. But…” They paused, took a deep breath, then continued. “I won’t give it to him. We’ll have to… take care of him, now that he knows I have the chip and the Securitrons.”

“So you have your own army now,” Boone mused. “What are you going to do with it?”

“Make the Mojave a better place.” At Boone’s bitter chuckle, Millie became defensive. “Listen – you saw all the pain and suffering in Freeside. People starving, alone, sick, while the rich gamble away their wealth in the Strip, and Mr. House keeps New Vegas and Freeside divided with violence. The NCR – and don’t be mad at me for saying this – the NCR hasn’t done anything. You really think they’ll shake up the status quo?”

Boone wanted to argue, but he knew better than most that Millie was right. He was living proof.

“We can make New Vegas better,” they insisted. “Take its wealth. Tear down the gates between the Strip and Freeside, spread the wealth to the people who need it. And once we’ve helped Freeside, we can start moving out and helping the rest of the Mojave. It’ll take time, but it can be done.” Millie spoke with such conviction, such pure, unadulterated faith, that Boone almost wanted to believe them.

How could they have seen all they’d seen – been shot in the head twice, been betrayed, been attacked and beaten down and chased and threatened – and still believe that there was goodness left in the Mojave? It was an admirable foolishness.

Perhaps it was Millie’s starry-eyed, dreamy, but complete and utter conviction in the world that made Boone mention Bitter Springs.

“There’s somewhere I need to go,” he said. “You know I was at Bitter Springs. Maybe… you could come with me.”

Millie’s eyes lit up. “Of course! Once we get everything settled here, we’ll go. Okay?”

“Okay.”

—

Bitter Springs was a refugee camp now, no thanks to the NCR, who patrolled the camp with bored indifference. Boone walked along, mindful of his long stride, deliberately slowing himself so Millie could easily follow. They said nothing as the two came to a stop at a graveyard, and Boone’s stomach was tied in knots. He had to tell them.

“What happened?” Millie asked quietly, turning to look up at him with their earnest, gray-green eyes.

“Main force got spotted too soon. We heard shooting. Then Khans started coming through Canyon 37 in bunches. It was all wrong, though. Women, kids, elderly. Wounded started coming through, too. We radioed to confirm our orders but command didn't get what we were seeing. They told us to shoot till we were out of ammo. So that's what we did.”

Millie’s face was soft, the compassion in their face intolerable to Boone. He didn’t deserve it. Not one bit. He didn’t deserve their kindness.

There was a shout from behind them, like someone being startled; then, a gunshot. Boone raced down the ridge, Millie in tow, and spotted them – legionnaires, looking for easy pickings. “There might be too many of them. I’ll stay, but if you want out –”

“I’m staying,” Millie said firmly, grabbing their rifle.

Eventually, the Legion’s numbers thinned, and Millie and Boone were left standing in an empty field of crimson. They’d done it. They’d managed to hold the legionnaires back.

The sniper sighed, letting the warm sun hit his face, and the sensation soothed him. “I thought I was going to die here.” He could feel Millie stepping closer, their arm brushing against his. “But I'm still here and nothing's changed.”

“You’ve changed,” Millie said gently. “You saved these people from the Legion just now.”

“Have I? A murderer who does good sometimes is still a murderer.”

Millie stepped in front of him, and he looked down at them. There was that conviction again, their eyes like steel. “You can't take back what you've done. But your regrets can set you on a better path,” they said. “You’ve got so much time left, Craig. And so much good left to do.”

“What can I do now, though?” he asked insistently, try to fight down his anger. Was it anger at Millie, for continuing to believe he was good, despite it all? Anger at them for trying to make him better? He couldn’t truly tell.

Millie tilted their head, smiled sweetly, and laid a hand on their shoulder. “Come with me,” they said, and their earnestness nearly broke his heart. “I’ve got a plan. We’ll make New Vegas – the whole Mojave – a better place. I’ve got the chip, and you’ve got the gun.”

Boone said nothing. This was far more than he deserved; but Millie truly, honestly believed in what they were saying, and he couldn’t help but feel moved by their words. “I can’t do this without you.”

The courier took his rough, large hands in their dainty, tiny ones and squeezed. Their eyes met his, their bright gaze disarming him entirely. “Are you coming with me?”

He’d seen their personality, how they treated others. How they lived by the values they espoused, of hope and compassion and goodness.

If anyone could save the Mojave…

“I’ve got your back,” he replied after a long moment.

Millie grinned, then, to his surprise, embraced him. He could feel their hot tears soaking through his shirt, and Boone was hugging them back before he realized what he was doing. “What’s–”

“I love you, Craig,” Millie blurted, hugging him even tighter. “Thanks for sticking around. I… I can’t tell you how much I appreciate it.”

The sun was warm, Millie’s embrace was tight, and for the first time in years, Boone felt some semblance of peace.

“Yeah. Love you, too.”

#self ship #yes this is who i was talking about last night. rip millie #self insert #selfship #self ship community #f/o community #blue moon

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