THE LAST YOU'LL NEVER SEE

[oneoftwohearts-blog]

brckenchains‌:

It took a good moment for the gravity of what he said to hit her. Automatically, she knew what he was referring to, and it made her heart wrench in her chest.

Gently, her hands reached out to help him pull the duster off- they still needed to address his wounds, she couldn’t clean them while they were covered up. A lot of things went through her head- a lot of things she could say in response, but none of it felt right.

“I never wanted to say anything,” she started, after another brief silence. “I always thought it was too soon for you, or… too stupid, I don’t know.”

Her hands shooed his away with a light tap as she scooted over, closing the distance between them so she could try to pull the armor off of him, once the duster had been dropped on the floor.

“When you left, I… figured it was the end. Figured it was just all over. Don’t think there was a day I didn’t wonder how you were doing. If you were even still alive.”

She faltered, for a moment, as the words hitched in her throat, too stubborn to just come out and say it. Seemed if she didn’t, he sure wouldn’t.

“…I love you, you big dumbass,” she says it affectionately, some minor attempt to lighten the mood with a playful jab like old times. “It’s not happening again. It won’t. I’m not going anywhere, and I’m not letting this fucking eye tear us apart.”

The silence that followed left his ears ringing with its crescendo interrupted only by the punctuation of his own ragged breaths. Had he heard her correctly? Furthermore, was this even reality? It was impossible--it couldn’t be true. Boone put up such a front and deliberately forced everyone who tried to get close to him away, for he couldn’t afford affections and the vulnerability that came along with them. There was no possibility that any of what she said held any truth, let alone even happened. A hallucination, perhaps. But the pain across his chest had been so very real.

He replayed the previous moments within his head, analyzing every movement, every word she spoke as if to find a flaw--a single thread to pull to unravel the truth. But he discovered nothing, and simply found his hands lifting from where she had swatted them away in order to rest against her arms as if he were suddenly fearful that she would simply disappear. That perhaps it was all the twisted workings of his mind. But she was there--very present and very real--and she anchored him as she always had.

"I...” A sharp breath escaped him. He struggled to find words that wouldn’t hurt his fragile pride--to maintain the strong, indifferent front. But he couldn’t. Not now and not like this. Boone swallowed a sound of frustration as he dipped his head back and drew the pads of his fingers unto the back of her elbows.

“I’m with you.” She’d be better off without him. He knew that, but this was what she wanted, wasn’t it? She had more than enough opportunities to turn and leave permanently, but each and every time she came back. They both did, and that wasn’t something Boone could continue to ignore. “And I...”

A sentence he couldn’t complete, couldn’t bring himself to say. Instead, he fought against the pain of the injury he sustained and reached up to press his palm against the curvature of her jaw. Pushing his hand back just far enough to find leverage against the back of her neck, he drew Bates down in a bold display despite his poor condition to express what words could not. It was only as her face drew near and his mouth brushed against hers, the following response escaped him almost soundlessly in a breath exhaled:

          “--I love you too.”

[oneoftwohearts-blog]

bet you thought you saw the last of me

[oneoftwohearts-blog]

brckenchains:

It’s after he speaks that the hallway fell into a deafening silence, the only real noise being the old, ruined house settling into place. Bates, for once in her life, was left speechless. She considered them close, yes, but from the distance he always put between them and the silence he preferred to words, she had no real clue that he thought of her that highly. Guilt coursed through her again- to think she gave him such a hard time during their reunion, just to find out that the entire reason he left was to find a way to help her. To… thank her. And despite it all, she found herself asking, ‘thank her for what?’

While he avoided looking directly at her, she kept her eyes trained on him, the pounding in her chest and in her skull lulling into a calm, even rhythm once more. The pain he was in- physical and emotional- was evident, as much as he wanted it not to be.The physical, it would heal with time, she had to be sure of that if she didn’t want to lose it completely. The emotional? Few things could soothe that kind of pain, but she could try.

“…You know, all those times I disappeared?” she finally broke the silence that had been droning on in her ears while she considered her words carefully. “Every time I just up and vanished, and about five million things always went wrong. Lotta those times, I found myself just going, ‘what’s the fuckin’ point’, ready to give up.”

Her eyelids lowered as she turned her gaze down to the floor as well, subconsciously counting the cracks in the wood. “You were what kept me coming home.”

A soft, defeated smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. “I was scared of what you might do if there was nobody there to keep you grounded.” No, that’s not the whole reason. “…I wanted to be the one keeping you grounded.”

“There isn’t a point.” He confirmed, focusing on the deep breaths he’d been forcing himself to take, to remain as calm as possible, and to keep his attention trained. “Not alone. Not without someone.” Despite the rumbled, even delivery of his words, he’d almost choked on them; inwardly afraid that they were too revealing and unwelcome.

--But she had reason to be scared. Reason to worry. Had she not found him, not remained by his side, Boone would have already been dead by now; lost to overdose and alcohol abuse, or a shot to his own head. But it was her presence--her existence; the person that she was that willed him to live. She was worth fighting the wastes, and most importantly, worth fighting his personal demons for.

Despite his admittance and how much he struggled with himself, he could not conquer his inability to look at her. Instead, he kept his eyes low; smoky hues scanning over the damage that hat been wrought against him before beginning to peel away the ruined materials to keep his emotional duress as composed as possible.

Though he could hear something in her voice. Belatedly, that was--a softer note that suggested a lift in her spirits. Despite his prior refusal, Boone’s gaze lifted instantly. His eyes roved over her facial features, as if confused by the smile that played across them, and with a mental shake of his head, his line of sight snapped towards the ground again in silent, unspoken shame.

“You did.” He swallowed thickly, wincing as his own fingers grazed the wound he sustained. He shuffled beneath her in shrugging away thick layers of reinforced leather and canvas; pulling the duster apart in a slow, borderline futile attempt. The ruined armour beneath would, in fact, be far more difficult.

“You are. But without you, I...” The words escaped him--like they were physically removed from his mouth and replaced with an extended breath of silence. But he forced his speech despite the delay, which tumbled out of his mouth in a rough bark under the pressure of emotional duress.

“...I can’t.” His chest deflated, heart hammering. “I can’t do it again.”

[oneoftwohearts-blog]

brckenchains:

“I don’t want you to do it again!” She began to yell, but quickly lowered her voice again. “You think you dying is gonna do me any good?!”

The blood didn’t bother her, and though she was tense, she didn’t fight his grip. If anything, she almost relaxed into it. Her eyes squeezed shut as tight as she could make them, he didn’t need to see her crying. “Who was that?” The entire ambush had nearly slipped her mind in her panic. “You never fucking tell me what’s going on…”

When she finally opened her eyes, that fear and anger was gone. All that remained was a tired resignation and profound weakness. No matter what he did, she always found a way to argue against it, even if it was some misguided attempt to help her. It was for his own good, every time. Bates didn’t want a martyr, she wanted her friend.

“For once in our goddamn lives, I wish you’d stop trying to protect me and just… talk to me.”

He was going to, until the universe decided it wasn’t going to happen. She felt almost robbed; their entire time together, she only ever wanted him to feel like he could talk to her, hoping it’d make him feel better at all. To abandon the idea that the world was punishing him. It only ever seemed to prove him right.

“I don’t know.” He breathed in an honest response, fingers retracting away from their anchored grip on her wrist. He kept information from her for the very reason he stepped into the line of fire--to protect her, just as he had during their travels across the Mojave. His method of doing so now was simply different.

“But there’s something here. Something that can help you.” He winced then, as if the act of admittance was just as painful as the injuries he sustained, or perhaps far worse. Such things were details he believed sourcing from House’s obituary, and expanded upon within the Commonwealth itself. What it was, or where it was located, however, Boone knew not of.

“I didn’t tell you. You didn’t know. Because I had no proof of it.” Just an idea--a lead, a though an ambition strong enough to drive him to survive. He left so that she did not need to, so he wouldn’t inspire false hopes. And at the end of the day, he still hadn’t any proof--save for the rumours and the fear that instilled the Commonwealth’s denizens of the foreboding Institute, and of its synths. An ironic overlap to Mr. House’s own technological knowledge combined with a biologic basis. Had this Institute truly existed and had it been the organization in which allotted in House’s advancements and success let alone the creation of synthetic human lifeforms, then surely there was a remedy for the artificial eye that negatively impacted Bates’ life.

       But it was all a hunch--one that led him on a        wild goose chase, and one that he inevitably        proved correct if only noted by their most        recent skirmish.

“You showed me that there was something left fighting for.” He grit his teeth and slid his hand unto the ground; a pillar used to push himself upright and away from the wall as his eyes remained low. "And that something... That something is you.”

“I wanted to thank you. Didn’t know how. Still don’t.” His second hand pulled away from his abdomen and settled across his brow, fingers splaying as if to conceal the emotions he betrayed, feelings that he swallowed lest he fell apart again. 

“But I will fight for you. Even if it kills me.”

[oneoftwohearts-blog]

brckenchains:

Bates glanced up from the bag only momentarily to see his eyes close- whatever his reason, she wasn’t having it. Her hands moved from the bag over to him, cupping his cheeks as she turned his head to force him to look at her. “I can handle getting shot,” she chastised him, tears already beginning to well up in her left eye from the panic, and the realization that the big idiot had done it to protect her. It took it a long, agonizing moment to sink in- and then it turned to guilt. “For fuck’s sake, I survived two bullets to the head, you don’t need to– you shouldn’t have–…”

Speaking became too difficult. She pulled back, looking through the bag again while a solitary tear dropped off of her face. He never got any less stubborn. Never any less frustrating.

Another moment is taken to center herself. No use falling apart now. He had to be okay. He had to be, she couldn’t handle it if she lost the only thing she had left. Her hands are shaking too hard to be able to safely give him anything for it, and her head is starting to pound as much as her heart.

The touch of her hands forced his eyes to creak open--to look at her directly, as she willed him to. The words Bates had spoken were a declaration he realized all too well, but argued so fervently against. She could handle it, sure, but why would she if it was unnecessary? Why would he allow it when she had already been through so much? 

His gaze lingered, watching only as curtailed emotion welled up within her eyes, evident thereafter as her cheek became damp. And it was amid the tense stillness that he shattered with words of his own and the capture of her retreating limb.

“I did,” his grip tightened about her wrist, thumb sliding over the curvature of her forearm and back again, leaving a smear of crimson in its wake, “and I will again.”

He too, survived far more injuries than he often time wished he had. Survived through emotional turmoil, betrayal and bitterness. Through drug overdose and excessive consumption of alcohol--all of which ingested if only to simply numb the pain of living. And in retrospect of it all, stepping in line to protect someone he cared so deeply for was something he did without question, and would do so again were he given the option a second time.

“As many times as I need to.”

[oneoftwohearts-blog]

brckenchains:

Once she could actually see the extent of his injuries, her expression dropped completely. “Sh–.. shut up, just-” she stumbled over her words, her voice hitching in her throat ever so slightly while her fear turned to panic. Panic, and anger. His vain attempts to conceal his injuries only frustrated her further- it was like dealing with a child who didn’t want to admit they had done something wrong.

Seeing his blood made her stomach churn. Though she was hesitant to leave him there, she sprung to her feet again and hurried back into the room they had come from, looking for the old mail carrier bag she kept her belongings in- once that had been located, she quickly returned to his position in the hallway.

She didn’t even know where to start. “Have you gone insane?” she asked, first of all, pulling her Pip-Boy off of her wrist. She turned the flashlight on and set it across from them so that the light, though still somewhat dim, was shining on them. She had to be able to see what she was doing. “Putting yourself in the direct line of fire, what the fuck were you thinking?!”

A moment was taken for her to take a deep, shaking breath, before she began to dig through the bag for bandages and stimpaks. He would be fine. He was going to be fine, he was always fine, after all these damn years no matter what happened, both of them were always fine. It angered her that he dared to even brush the incident off, but she had to tell herself the same things to keep herself calm.

“Fuck, just– keep talking, okay, say something, stay awake…”

It was only as she stood to leave that he squeezed his eyes closed and gave into a moment of weakness; the gritting of his teeth, the heavy exhalation of a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding. But with each inhale and decompression of his chest, torn skin pulled around the lacerations and burns that seared deeply into his flesh, and he struggled against the agony that sunk into his very core.

It had been her accusation that brought his attention back to his surroundings, and it provoked something of a rare, albeit morbid chuckle to resonate from within. She was right--what was he thinking? He was overtly concerned for her safety; consumed by thoughts, fears and dare he admit a hope for something. For her well-being, for the desire to return a debt that he owed to her in the only way that he knew how. But above all of that was an innate desire--one that he realized, in those very moments as his own blood stained his hands--that he was not privy to. What right did he have to believe that such a behaviour, that such emotions were acceptable?

Indeed, perhaps he had been driven mad.

“Maybe I have.” He admitted, eyelids falling closed. As excruciating as the pain might have been, it had been more to avoid eye contact--to keep him from facing the very things he had almost confronted. “But you’re safe. And I--” a pause, lengthened only by his slowing thought process and a dry, ragged cough.

       “...It’ll be okay.”

[oneoftwohearts-blog]

brckenchains:

Time seemed to speed up and slow down at the same time. Confusion was the main thing playing across her features as she was shoved into the wall, pulling her pistol back to point it upwards. Shaky hands sometimes pulled triggers they didn’t mean to, and the last thing either of them needed was for her to accidentally shoot him, too.

And then, it was over. Suddenly, their assailant was just… gone. Bates spent only a few seconds wondering where the hell he went- or what that warning meant- before Boone keeled over. A hand stayed firmly pressed to his back as she dropped down beside him, craning her neck around to try and get a look at the wounds. “Of all the goddamn bullshit I’ve seen- what the fuck was that?”

“Just– hang on, I’ve got first-aid supplies in the other room, just… sit here, okay?” Gingerly, she urged him to seat himself against the wall. Shit. Shit, he was in bad shape- very rarely had she ever even heard him react to pain beyond just a muted grunt or a curse under his breath. The adrenaline from the brief battle was wearing off, now all she felt was fear, and that fear was evident on her face and in her body language.

Boone was the only person she would ever let see it.

In an instant she was by his side, one that he was immediately made aware of by the firm press of her hand. He moved instinctively in time with her motions--the lean forward in attempt to inspect the damage, and his own keeling frame curling towards that of the floorboards to conceal the injuries he sustained. But even so, she knew better. 

The warmth of her hand fell away briefly, only to resettle to assist in his movement with his back to the nearby, crumbling wall. Naturally, he resisted against her instance, but his stubbornness gave way far more quickly than he was willing to admit, and the trauma his body endured was made visible.

“Yeah,” he managed in a breathy exhale. He attempted to dampen the sound of a low groan as he shifted, his bent leg stretching out to lay parallel with the ground. With a glance towards that of his waist, Boone pulled his hand away from the crimson stain on his abdomen to examine the damage, which thereafter provoked his lips to curl into an disheartening grimace. Forcing his breathing to regulate, Craig tilted his head back and rested the crown of his skull against the peeling wallpaper, focusing then on external factors over the deafening beat of his heart within his ears. On Bates, on the fear that flooded her features, and on the words that fell from his lips in a poor attempt to placate the unspoken thoughts that swam through her head:

          “--I’ll be fine.”

[oneoftwohearts-blog]

brckenchains:

Startling her wasn’t easy, but this very definitely made her jump out of her skin. In an instant, Bates was on her feet, instinctively pulling the pistol from its holster on her belt. Combat wasn’t new to either of them; regardless, seeing her companion hit made her heart pound. Idiot. Fucking idiot, why did he get in the way, if he hadn’t, maybe the shots would have missed both of them…

That string of panicked thought continued to rush through her mind as she quickly followed him- the hallway was narrow, however, and she couldn’t maneuver around him enough to either fire blindly into the darkness or take off after whatever or whoever was ambushing them.

“Move, damn it!” She protested, one hand splayed out against his back. He was already injured, if he didn’t get out of the way-

Frustrated, she resolved to simply stick her arm out around him, firing off a few rounds in the hopes she’d hit their assailant.

While his attention was very heavily focused on the engagement ahead of him, Boone made himself immediately aware of her inclusion into the skirmish as well. Of course, he knew just as well as Bates did that she was quite able to handle herself, for that had been the primary reason he began to put any faith in her all those years ago, however the state of her declining health and the current subject matter pushed him into something of a defensive mode. Should he have accepted her cover fire and backup? Absolutely, but the last thing either of them needed now was her injury.

It was with a heavy hand that he reached back, his arm like an iron bar pinning her back with the intent to keep her out of harm’s way completely. With his palm planted against her hip, Boone roughly pushed her towards the support and safety of the wall to obscure her completely behind the broad expanse of his shoulders.

       But it was this division in attention that left him exposed;        a price he had been willing to pay, and yet had not right-        fully expected to.

A searing pain tore through his abdomen, evoking something of a muffled howl in agony from the depths of his chest. Gritting his teeth, the sniper fumbled forward to impale the aggressor with the bayonet snapped into place against the muzzle of his rifle. With the combined, albeit brief gunfire of both Bates and Boone, and the forceful jab of his firearm, the assailant ceased in their aggression, if only momentarily. In the delay between the rifle’s retraction and the other’s abrupt and unexplained disappearance in a cloud of smoke, a few monotone, robotic words all but echoed in the tight space of the hallway:

“You have been warned.”

In the sudden stillness, a grunt of frustration rumbled through the air; a sound of disappointment in his own shortcomings and near-sightedness. But despite his brash and unexpected behaviour, Boone dipped his head, eyes glancing over the wounds he had sustained before splaying a compressing hand over his abdomen and fell to a solitary knee.

[oneoftwohearts-blog]

brckenchains:

Seemed like everything only ever led to more questions, rather than answers.

It wasn’t like she wasn’t happy to be reunited with Boone; she had considered the man her closest friend for a long, long time, and that hadn’t changed. Unfortunately, though, it couldn’t be denied things were… different, now. Bates wasn’t entirely sure how to describe it. He was never the over-sharing type- God knows how hard she had to prod to get him to tell her much of anything- but his silence this time around made her uneasy. Even she didn’t talk quite as much as she used to.

In that room on the second floor, she had been waiting for a while. Falling asleep alone was stupid, even if her body screamed at her for the rest. Instead, she stayed slumped back on the old, ragged bed against the wall, idly playing some old game on her Pip-Boy, waiting for him to get back. The waiting was the part that was killing her- it was sort of a taste of her own medicine, given how often she would disappear without a word back in Vegas, then randomly reappear twice as fucked up as she used to be.

Then, that muffled call sign. Even while he was wearing that helmet, she could recognize his voice anywhere. When he re-entered the room, she only glanced up momentarily, but what he said sent a quick jolt of anxiety through her. Shutting off the screen, she gave him her full attention, scooting aside to sit on the edge of the mattress. One brow quirked upwards quizzically, only barely seen in the light of the old lantern illuminating the room.

“What’s up?”

As she shifted, neck arched, gaze trained upon him, Boone lifted to press his palms against the side of the helmet. With a gradual pull, the iconic visage of the western Ranger fell away in favour of worn and tired features. With careful, noiseless steps into the confines of the room, the sniper leaned over to deposit the helmet by allowing it to roll from his hand unto the dampening, worn springs of the mattress.

“I... need to tell you why I left.” He began slowly, words rumbling from within as if resisting the necessity to be spoken. His jaw snapped shut, though his lips remained parted, and it was as he moved to stand upright again that he drew a sharp breath of air in between his teeth as one might from a drag from a cigarette.

But it was as he stood and pried his teeth apart to proceed that the creaking of a distant floorboard rang like a siren within his ears. Exhausted, hazel hues shifted from her instantly, glancing first to the window. It was there that he spotted a flash of movement reflected in the glass. As he turned, he moved to face the doorway he had earlier passed through, and actively took the necessary strides to act as a buffer between Bates and whomever intruded. What Boone hadn’t realized, was that despite his keen eye and renown perception, he had been followed.

As he wheeled around and reached for his own rifle that shots had been fired. Within the direct path of each shot, several radiant streaks of red surged through the air, impacting and shredding through the weak points of his armour. Grunting from the impact, the sniper staggered back, and instantly recoiled to hipfire his weapon, lighting up the small room and the hall in short bursts. But despite the agony, he hammered through each fired round and pushed into the hallway like a barricade to pursue what he briefly identified between shots was a man dressed in a long, dark, well-kept coat.

[oneoftwohearts-blog]

@brckenchains​

The Commonwealth, much like the Mojave, had not been kind. With each region came a different conflict, another political movement, an alternative solution. None of which had given him the answers he sought, but each and every road gave him something to expand upon.

Bates was, in many ways, the driving force that kept Boone alive. A reason to push forward, a purpose to fight and survive, and the very driving factor that kept his dusty boots on the ground. But while he crawled out of the proverbial grave he’d buried himself within, she was drowning. The Mojave gave her nothing, so it was beyond its dry and miserable borders that he traversed for a solution. His departure unannounced, his purpose unknown to any save for himself. He came up empty-handed, both in finding a solution and discovering her own disappearance, however he had inevitably been led back to her years later, far worse for wear. So it was within the Commonwealth that their travels began again, their personal ventures kept tight-lipped, and their emotional spectrum on lock-down. 

From the little hovel of a shelter they resided in temporarily upon reuniting within the outskirts of post-war Boston, they moved come daybreak, but it was beneath the guise of nightfall that Boone preferred to travel. As the sun set beneath the horizon, they found shelter within the husk of an abandoned ruin of a pre-war home, to which Boone had left in the following hours with promise of return.

--And return he had, with a lead in the form of information he wished to divulge, and an explanation she deserved. 

Sweeping around the perimeter soundlessly, Boone pushed inward with an announced, albeit muffled call sign that would have alerted her of his arrival, as opposed to the intrusion of an unwelcome visitor. Light strides carried him over worn floorboards and up a flight of decrepit stairs, and it was only when he reached the room she resided in that he proceeded to speak any further in the usual clipped, short phrases:

“We need to talk.’

[oneoftwohearts-blog]

brckenchains:

ARRIVES TWENTY YEARS LATE TO COLLECT BOONE.

DID BRING STARBUCKS.

        Now the tables have turned and I don’t         think Boone knows how to feel.

> [ Boone disliked that ] ? but also > [ Boone liked that ] ?

[oneoftwohearts-blog]

sweetxrevenge:

It’s not like she needs caffeine anyway.

        Honestly, that’s probably why he’s         empty-handed.

[oneoftwohearts-blog]

        Arrives 20 years late to collect Ketan and         didn’t even bother to bring Starbucks.

[oneoftwohearts-blog]

brckenchains:

“Where the hell are you going?”

Bates stood for a moment, dumbfounded at his sudden departure. She knew how bad he was at dealing with emotions, but she didn’t expect him to just… turn tail and leave. She considered that he was just storming off to do his sulking thing, but other possibilities gnawed at her. That surprise near immediately turned into panic, and that panic eliminated any thought process that may have been happening. 

After grabbing her things, she took long strides to follow him. The cybernetic eye may be a problem itself, but she could at least use it to see him in the dark. She took a moment to pull the beret off of her head and stow it into her backpack for safekeeping. Her heart pounded so hard she could feel it in her head.  

“Craig!” His first name felt foreign- even years ago she wasn’t sure she had ever said it seriously, but she hoped it would be more effective. The panic was fear now. What if he intended to just leave? Her next words weren’t even thought through, they were just a desperate shout that tumbled out on their own.

“Please, for the love of God, don’t leave me again.”

AND SO HE STOPPED DEAD IN HIS TRACKS, BRISTLING NOT AT HER, but at how deeply her pleading affected him. His muscles tensed, teeth grinding as his fists tightened. He didn’t even know where he was going--not exactly. But nothing was going to happen by sitting around waiting for the sun to rise. 

He turned his gaze to the ground, the bridge of his nose wrinkling in frustration. He was conflicted judging by his refusal to turn around and his lack of response altogether. With his head bowed and jaw clamped, both hands raised to link his fingers at the back of his head. He had to think--had to make a decision. Leave and let his anger dissipate, or turn around and fume, ideally becoming a burden to her despite only reuniting for the first time in years? There were words that almost left his mouth--short and clipped--but he did not allow them. Instead, he stood uncomfortably--BITTERLY--but it was before her that he still stood despite his reservations. 

[oneoftwohearts-blog]

brckenchains:

So much for stealth. Bates climbed to her feet, sighing. She stood outside the small shelter with her arms folded, watching him have a goddamn breakdown. “You’re gonna wake up the entire Commonwealth,” She grumbled, not even bothering to be subtle. It occurred to her that she had never truly seen him get that worked up, at least not more than once. She wracked her brain for some way to comfort him, since she did basically just give him the worst news she could. 

“Listen, it’s not that bad yet. I promise, if anything happens, it won’t be for a while. I’ve got time.”

This was all estimates. She barely understood the technology in her head, and it was entirely unpredictable. Upon reflection, ‘I promise I won’t die for a while’ wasn’t quite as comforting as she thought it was. Her fingers tapped on her biceps idly, while she decided to remain silent. God, she hoped he didn’t find a way to blame himself for this. Knowing him, he already was, and it was that fact that made the anger from earlier resurface.

LIKE HE CARED. LIKE HE GAVE A DAMN ABOUT THE COMMONWEALTH. It was like the Mojave all over again--corrupt and consumed by politics for the mere desire for power and control. He was wrong to have left for the means of starting over, to find some kind of purpose in his miserable life because NOTHING changed. From the NCR to the Brotherhood, Followers of the Apocalypse to the Minutemen; the faces and name might have changed but at the end of the day? They were all the same.

“And when it does?” What happened if she couldn’t find a way to fix it? What did ‘A WHILE’  mean? There were so many variables--so many things his floundering mind tried to pour over, yet the only thing it produced was RAGE. Anger and frustration vented through heavy exhales and uncalculated movements. Despite her attempts to placate his rising fury, it all fell upon deaf ears. His vision had long-since become red--much less a soldier and more of a raging bull.

It was at that point that he spun on his heel, his anxious gaze searching the ground frantically for where his rifle had been left abandoned. Brushing passed her, he swept it up into his grip before turning and marching off in an unsettling silence. Without so much as a word, Boone marched towards the treeline, back to the sad excuse of an encampment with an intent he knew not of.

[grumpytrader-blog]

Best Boone reaction image

[oneoftwohearts-blog]

brckenchains replied to your post:

LISTEN SHE HAS A POINT

WTF OMI WHOSE SIDE ARE YOU ON