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Nothing much has happened in the hour that Cass has sat on the picnic tables at the 188 Trading Outpost. In her experience, this is always a sign that something is about to go down.
She sighs and sinks further down her seat, giving her nails a disinterested glance. There’s something itching beneath her skin telling her she needs to get on her caravan and drive away, though that’s not saying much—lately, she’s always itching to leave. A month ago, she’d had a dream about losing one of her brahmin, and ever since, Cass hasn’t been able to shake the feeling that she won’t be able to stay uprooted for much longer. It’s driving her crazy.
“Cass!” calls out an excited voice, not that far from where she is.
Cass turns. There, on the other side of the overpass, stands the scrawny girl she’d met at the Mojave Outpost some weeks ago. The kid waves at her, wearing a big grin on her face, the flying robot that accompanied her still by her side.
Cass returns the wave and the girl—Six, she remembers—takes off running toward her, ED-E following close behind. As she approaches her, Cass takes note of a few changes in her appearance, like the stray curls poking out from under the bandana on Six’s forehead, and the slightly darker brown of her skin, and she might be wrong, but is that a Plasma Defender on her hip?
Almost as if she’d sensed Cass has questions, Six takes the seat across from her at the picnic table and, without missing a beat, launches into a lightning-fast recount of what she’s been up to since they parted ways. Despite trying her best to pay attention, even leaning forward with her elbows on the table, Cass can’t help but be distracted by the occasional beeping coming from ED-E and the increasingly passionate hand gestures from Six. When the girl launches into a description of one of the Novac snipers, Cass turns to the robot and shushes it, bringing a finger to her lips. The robot whines, but ends up complying with the request.
By the time she turns back to the kid, Cass has definitely lost the thread of the story.
“And it turns out that they wanted to fly to another planet!” Six exclaims, pointing a hand to the sky above their heads. Cass blinks. “So, I ask Mr. Bright what he needs, and he says— Um, actually, I can’t remember what the thing is called, but it was for his rocket, obviously.”
Six goes on about the ghouls she’d lent a hand to, all part of an infestation that she’d been trying to take care of. Cass holds back a huff of amusement, but just barely; this must all be part of a very vivid dream she’d had. Her suspicions are almost confirmed by the time she brings up the nightkin. Sure, Cass has seen some weird shit in her years as a caravan trader, but religious ghouls and schizophrenic nightkin? And somehow none of them had attacked her? That’s got to be a first, even for her. Six looks young, yes, but not so young that she confuses memories with dreams, right?
“And I thought we were dead, you know? But Boone went all—” she mimics firing a shot with a straight face, “and suddenly there were like three raiders down! He’s scarily good at that. Anyway, we ran into Legionaries later, and then we went to Boulder City, and—”
Cass’ eyes go as wide as plates for a moment. “Legionaries? And you’re telling me you’re alright?” she asks, her eyebrows almost up to her hairline, and then a frown takes over her face. “Wait, did you say Boone? What did I miss?”
“I knew you weren’t listening! I just told you who he is,” the girl rolls her eyes and leans top of the table. “Remember the sniper that helped me with the ghouls and their rockets? That’s Boone!”
She most certainly did not remember. Cass bites her tongue, straining—and failing—to keep her skepticism to herself. Six huffs in annoyance and turns to examine the crowd on the other side of the post. Suddenly, she points a finger at a target only she can see, tugging on Cass’ sleeve to get her attention.
“That’s him!” she says, as if Cass could tell which of the dozens of people she means. “You can ask him about REPCONN if you don’t believe me.”
“Sure kid, I’ll do... that,” Cass says, nodding slowly.
Six swats her arm and she yelps, cradling the spot like it’s a life-threatening injury. The kid snorts at her theatrics, and Cass huffs something like a laugh. It’s nice to see her feel uncomplicated joy. It suits her.
Cass turns to the crowd again, narrowing her search to one man that fits Six’s descriptions down to the letter. He doesn’t seem to have noticed them. Despite the sunglasses hiding his eyes, the dutiful dedication with which he examines his rifle is obvious; he turns it from side to side with careful attention, only bringing it closer to frown at some part. Cass doesn’t think he looks particularly fond of children, which makes his commitment to travel with Six these past few days seem even stranger. Then again, he doesn’t look very old either—most likely younger than Cass herself—and still, he wears a beret from that fancy NCR battalion, so there’s bound to be more to him than meets the eye. Cass’s frown deepens. She’s not sure she likes that.
Suddenly, his head snaps up. The supposed Boone scowls as he looks around, rifle all but forgotten in his grip, until his sunglasses face their direction. He stares for a second. Six waves a hand at him. Boone seems affronted by the gesture; his mouth flattens into a line and he turns his palms up, as if demanding an explanation. Six springs to her feet. Cass barely has time to ask the woman at the stand to watch her stuff before she’s being dragged away by the girl, her energetic tugs almost making her trip a couple of times.
“Hell— Six! Slow down! I think my knee hurts,” Cass hisses, panting a little, as she comes face to face with Boone. “Hey.”
“Hey,” he replies, curt.
She wets her lips. “You traveling with her now?” she asks, for lack of a better subject. He nods. “How’s that working out?”
Boone shrugs and says nothing else, the shithead. So that’s how it’s going to be. Well, Cass won’t let the awkwardness get to her. She nods back at him, features schooled into cool disinterest, and unknowingly starts a half-hearted staring contest between them; it doesn’t last long, because sooner rather than later, Six interrupts it with a loud sigh, already tired of it.
“Don’t take it personally, Cass,” she begins, hands on her hips. “Boone’s not really one for talking. We’ve been good, by the way! Now we’re heading to—” she trails off, interrupted by Boone’s elbow on her ribs. She rubs her side and glares daggers at Boone. He raises an eyebrow and a silent conversation takes place between them, it’s conclusion making Six sigh and leans closer to Cass. “To the Strip,” she whispers. “That’s where— Sorry, it’s just that we’re trying to keep it secret, because of all that stuff with the Legionaries.”
That must have been more serious than Six had let on. Even now, she dismisses Cass’ concerned hum with a hand, brushing the matter under the rug. Boone, on the other hand, seems to disapprove of Six sharing their plans, if the downward twist of his mouth is any indication. Cass understands his reticence—it’s a good thing, even, because if she was a random caravan driver, like Boone must think, it wouldn’t be a good idea to tell her their itinerary. She’s still on the fence about him, but this apprehension of his makes her glad that she’d decided to pay for Six’s room at Novac that day.
Resolute, Cass turns to Six and smirks, causing the girl to perk up. “You’ve got really convenient timing, kiddo. It’s been a little difficult lately with the company, but lucky for you, that means I’ve just enough room to give you two a ride if you don’t mind a tight fit.”
Six seems to melt with the offer, her entire body sagging as she accepts without a second thought. Boone, however, remains quiet for a moment. His face doesn’t give much away, which somehow isn’t surprising despite Cass having known him for all of ten minutes. Once it becomes apparent that no answer is forthcoming, Cass decides to just take the kid’s word. She points to her caravan and tells them to go put their things inside while she waits for someone else, and then she returns to her seat by the picnic table, glad to see that her stuff is still there. She buys a Sarsaparilla from the woman at the stand as a thank you and settles down to wait.
Every time she sees Six, Cass feels a strange compulsion to make sure she’s doing alright, as much as she can. It’s an odd realization. She doesn’t know much about Six—just her strange name and a few details of her journey out of Goodsprings that she’d shared while they traveled—yet she’s still relieved to see that she’s found someone to travel with, besides her robot. From her spot at the picnic tables, Cass watches Six talking to ED-E and Boone, eliciting a nod or two from the former with relative frequency.
If last time she’d hesitated with her assessment, now she’s sure: Six is too trusting for her own good. Cass had been a young girl in the Mojave too, and while nothing terrible happened to her, it was only because she was determined to beat the shit out of anyone who even looked at her wrong. Six— well, she’s not that quick to defend herself; Cass had seen it firsthand with Boxcars. If it had been up to Cass, she would’ve decked him over half the crap he said, especially after being offered some much-needed compassion and expensive drugs.
“I swear I can almost see smoke coming out of your ears, Cassidy,” Veronica says in a sing-song voice.
Cass rolls her eyes and turns to face her, immediately wrapping her into a one-armed hug. Cass tilts her head, touching her forehead to hers for a moment, then draws back to shoot her a smirk.
“You know me,” she says with a shrug, “this peanut overheats sometimes when I work it too hard.”
It gets her the desired result: Veronica lets out a loud laugh and shoves her arm hard. Cass stumbles—less because of Veronica’s freaky strength and more because she’s caught off guard. She regains her footing as smoothly as she can and dusts off her jacket.
“Lay off the shoving, Ronnie. One day you’re gonna send me flying.”
“Yeah, right,” she says with a roll of her eyes, the hint of a smile still on her lips. “Then what will you do, oh, poor damsel in distress?”
Instead of keeping the banter going, Cass huffs in amusement and takes the bag from Veronica’s hand, walking to the waiting caravan. Veronica follows her steps, her dark robes in contrast with her cheerful disposition.
“Seriously though,” she begins, stealing a glance at Cass, “what’s up?”
Something that Cass has noticed about Veronica through the many conversations they’ve had at the Outpost is that her voice very rarely loses the levity to it. It could fool anyone into thinking she’s the sort of gal that doesn’t have a temper, or that she doesn’t know how to talk about serious things—It’s part of how she’d convinced Cass to let her tag along to her caravan. It makes for good company, and what else could she ask for?
“Nothing’s up,” Cass says, shrugging. “Just that I ran into a friend, and we’re giving her… shit, and her friend too, I guess, a ride to Freeside.”
Veronica raises both of her eyebrows. “Some friend that must be. I haven’t even heard of her and it took me weeks to convince you to take me with you.”
Cass chuckles and shakes her head. “Nah, you’ve heard of her,” she says. “It’s Six. The little girl from the Mojave Outpost?”
It takes a second for her words to settle in, and then Veronica gasps, eyes widening along with her mouth. Whatever questions she may have come up with during those seconds are cut off by the sound of Six’s voice reaching them, louder as they approach the caravan.
“But it would be funny, right? A little bit?” she says, voice streaming from inside the cart. “Just imagine: we get to The Tops, ED-E too, of course, and then I demand to see Benny and we’re all wearing matching sunglasses. Funny!”
Veronica and Cass falter in their steps. She exchanges a confused look with the other woman.
“No,” Boone says, resolute and dry. After a beat, he adds, “Where are you even planning to get sunglasses for the robot?”
Veronica laughs out loud. She wastes no time before barging into the caravan to introduce herself to Six, Boone, and ED-E, who have yet to settle in. Cass stays back, watching her interact with her guests and trying to hide an amused smirk; she can’t deny that the kid has guts to mess with the NCR guy like that, though judging by Boone’s tone, it doesn’t seem to bother him nearly as much as he pretends.
Boone meets Cass’ eyes, almost as if he knows what she’s thinking. Cass waves briefly at him before retreating to the front of the caravan, where she stuffs Veronica’s bag under the seats and goes over the last few details for their trip. She takes her seat behind the brahmin and then calls for Veronica, who rushes through her goodbyes and hops in on record time. Then, they’re gone.
The separation between the front and the back of the caravan doesn’t stop Veronica and Six from continuing their conversation. As soon as the road has evened out a little, Veronica turns, resting her arms on the back of her seat, and calls out for Six’s name, who responds equally as loud.
At least they get along, Cass muses as she stares at the road in front of her. She can’t explain why it’s a relief, but it is.
“The Forecaster?” Veronica asks, pursing her lips for a moment. “Yeah! I’ve met him. He’s this little— I mean, he’s the boy from the Outpost, right? The one that stays under the overpass?”
“Yeah, that’s him!” Six says. “Have you ever bought a Thought from him?”
“Huh, well, I must’ve,” she says with an airy laugh. “Can’t remember what he told me though. I don’t think I understood it anyway.”
Cass steals a glance at her from the corner of her eye. That can’t be true. Veronica’s the smartest woman she’s ever met. She notes her thin smile and makes a note to ask her about it later when they’re alone. Perhaps the answer will be different.
“Huh,” Six says, voice as skeptical as Cass’ thoughts. A beat later, she hums and goes on, “Anyway, I bought a Thought from him today, and it was… I dunno. Creepy? I think?”
“Oh?”
“He— He said some stuff— He knew some stuff about me, without me saying it, I mean,” Six says. “And then he kept talking about cards, which sucks, because I don’t know how to play cards. I mean, I know, I’m just really bad at it. He said the odds are against you, but that if I make a bet, it might pay off. I think he was trying to tell me I’m lucky?”
Her voice rises towards the end, turning her words into more of a question than a statement. A heavy silence falls afterward, with the caravan’s passengers deep in thought. Before anyone can weight in, however, Six moves in her seat, the boxes rattling as she moves, making a racket.
“Never mind, it was probably nothing,” she declares. “But he did tell me I’d meet a new friend today! And that she’d be wearing robes and that her name would be Veronica.”
Veronica gasps. “Did he?” she says, “That’s impossible!”
From there on, their conversation returns to safer topics. Cass tunes out most of it, choosing to focus on driving the brahmin, even if it’s not a very hard job—with how the caravans have been getting raided lately, you can’t be too cautious about these things. Occasionally, a joke from either Six or Veronica will reach her ears, and she’ll find herself smiling absently.
The drive is hot, as it always is. The sun glares down on them with fierce intensity, melting even her more persisting thoughts. Cass asks Veronica to pass a water bottle back and forth a couple of times, in case her guests are as thirsty as she is. After they drain the bottle, Veronica gets hungry—which normally wouldn't keep her from talking, but since Cass says she could eat too, she decides to open a box of Fancy Lads and share the cakes between them, feeding them both so Cass won’t have to let go of the reigns. When they're done, she turns in her seat again, but this time she doesn't call Six's name.
"What's up?" Cass asks.
Veronica flashes her a small smile and tucks a strand of hair back under her hood. Her cheeks are turning a little red from the sun. Cass should get her a hat for when they travel again.
"She's asleep," she clarifies, bringing her legs up into her seat.
That ignites the curiosity inside Cass. She hands Veronica the reigns to the brahmin and ignores her protests—she’s only peeking for a second and anyone can keep a couple of animals going in a straight line; she’ll do just fine.
Cass had expected Boone and Six to find the place she offered a little cramped—she’d thought they would move the boxes and bags around to get more comfortable during the trip, which is why she’s surprised to see they haven’t. Six, being the smaller of the two of them, seems to have twisted around until she found a spot to sit between them. Now, as she sleeps, her head rests against one of the caravan’s fabric walls, bobbing along with the movement of the wheels, her mouth hanging in an unflattering way. Even when unconscious, it’s clear that Six cares deeply about her robot; she keeps one of her hands clasped on one of ED-E’S antennae, making it squirm in the air as it attempts to free itself.
On the other side of the girl sits Boone, legs bent against his chest despite how the position has to be hell on his knees. Not that there’s much choice—the rest of the space is filled with their bags. Unaware he’s being watched, Boone gets on his knees and loosens Six’s grip on ED-E, easing her fingers off one by one until her arm drops to her side. ED-E plays a happy tune when he realizes he can move again, but his celebration is cut short by Boone’s shushing, an attempt to keep Six from waking up.
Cass stares at them for a moment. Even if it’s technically her caravan, she feels as though she’s intruded into someone’s private life, poked her nose into a domesticity that isn’t hers to witness. She blinks and decides to go back to doing her job, but Boone moves just before she does. He hesitates, his mouth twisting in a complicated knot, then leans forward to adjust Six’s bandana. He lowers the fabric evenly to cover most of her forehead, then he lets her head rest against the caravan wall, the bandana back in its rightful place.
This time, when Cass takes the reigns from Veronica’s eager hands, she does so with a small smile and lighter shoulders. The other woman gives her a light shove, chuckling, and Cass hums in response.
To say she hadn’t been a little distrustful of Boone when they first met would be a lie, but she could hardly be blamed for that, right? He looked like he couldn’t remember the last time he’d laughed; and knowing Six had no family to speak of only made their traveling arrangement seem more disconcerting. Her opinion might be changing now. Hardass or not, maybe he hdoes have a reason to give a damn about what happens to the girl—Cass distrusts wastelanders in general, but she can make an exception for principled ones.
As it turns out, Six does know how to choose who to trust. There sure are worse ways to make friends than surviving through a horde of nightkin, ghouls, and crazy wasteland people trying to kill you.
Anyway, not that Cass is one to talk. Her way of making friends involves repeatedly running into someone at the same trading post, laughing far louder than their nonsense jokes warrant, getting charmed by the way they fix her shotgun with scrap metal, and then saying yes when they ask to join her caravan.
“So,” Cass says, startling Veronica in her seat. She clears her throat and returns to face the road. “You ever been to Freeside?”
Veronica smiles. “I was hoping you’d ask!”
⋄⋄⋄
Pip-boys are one of the most useful tools to have in the wasteland; they’re convenient, small, almost unnoticeable, and impossible to steal without cutting off the wearer’s arm. Cass won’t deny they have their uses, but there’s still no number of caps in the world that could convince her to strap one of those things around her wrist. Even before attempting to maneuver Six’s own little piece of machinery, she’d never been fond of them (wasn’t it scary that it could track your location at all times?)—of course, this experience doesn’t help her opinion of them at all.
Swearing under her breath, Cass jerks the dials around, entering the coordinates yet again. She hopes this time the Pip-boy will actually save the information. An amused huff makes her pause. Cass snaps toward the sound, eyes narrowed into thin slits.
“What’s so funny?” she asks, a wry twist to her lips.
“Nothing! It’s nothing!” Six says, shaking her head. Cass hums, going back to turning the dials without uttering another sound. The silence weighs on Six. She barely makes it five seconds before adding, “It’s just that it took me weeks to get the hang of it, too, so you’re doing great, Cass. Considering. You know. Uh…”
Cass frowns, eyes glued to the Pip-boy’s screen. Only three digits left, two, one, and… Finally, finally, it’s done. She whoops, thrusting a fist into the air and patting Six’s arm with enough force to make her stumble. She regains her footing and takes a closer look at the screen of her Pip-boy with a tilt of her head.
“That’s the Crimson Caravan,” Cass explains before she can ask. “Between there and the 188 Post, not a lot of places I could be at. This one’s gonna stick around for a while,” she points a thumb at Veronica, “so if you ever need to find us… Y’know. We’re probably there.” She shrugs. “Good luck, kid.”
As Six processes her words, a bright, toothy smile blooms on her lips. Her face looks rounder, softer this way. Six turns to Veronica, who’s been standing nearby while Cass dealt with the Pip-boy, and squeezes her into a tight hug. Veronica barely has time to reciprocate before Six pulls away and turns to the other woman. Despite having been warned, the hug still surprises Cass; she stands frozen, staring at the armful of Six suddenly around her, and a couple of seconds later, Six skips away from.
Like a miniature tornado, Six barrels into the caravan to retrieve the rest of her things, followed by her loyal robot, who might intend to lend her a hand— or, well, some moral support. It doesn’t take long for Six to notice ED-E’s company, and even less before she’s chattering at him, pausing to listen to his electronic beeps as if they were valuable input to their conversation.
Boone shifts on his feet, nearly startling Cass out of her skin. He’s so quiet that she’d almost forgotten he’d been standing next to her all this time. She shoots him a look and then struggles to hide her resulting smile. If Cass valued her life any less than she does, she’d tease him about playing the part of a mysterious bodyguard, all serious and tense with his arms crossed like that— and the sunglasses! God, the sunglasses. She keeps the thought to herself, however. Well, mostly. Cass shares a look with Veronica, and, judging by the hand she clasps on her mouth, she must be thinking something along those lines as well. When she looks back at him, she’s not surprised to see that he hasn’t moved an inch. Is Boone made of stone, or is the unnatural stillness a product of his sniper training? Or maybe he’s just got a fun personality like that?
Cass frowns a little. Six hasn’t finished getting her stuff, but she can wait until she comes back to say her goodbyes. She crosses her arms in front of her chest, determined to ignore the man since he’s so intent on remaining silent.
Boone looks at Cass for a moment, opening his mouth as if to say something, then closing it back up. Cass only knows this because she’d been staring at him from the corner of her eye. He returns to his original position, shifts on his feet again. His arms remain crossed in front of his chest.
“She’s a cool kid,” Cass ends up saying, because the silence is weighing on her, okay, and she can’t be expected to keep her mouth shut for that long, can she.
After a couple of beats pass without a reply from Boone, Cass resigns herself to his continued silence. However, he surprises her by muttering in a gruff voice, “As stubborn as a brahmin.”
Surprised, Cass can’t help her chuckle. “She is,” she says, “Determined little shit. Couldn’t believe she’d made it from Goodsprings to the Mojave Post on her own. Even the rangers didn’t wanna deal with the critters.”
Boone exhales through his nose, and Cass thinks that the sound he makes must be his quiet version of a laugh. A beat or two later, he says, “You walked her to Novac and paid for her room.”
It’s not a question, but it’s not a statement either. Cass raises an eyebrow. “Sure did.”
If she hadn’t been watching him as closely as she had, Cass would’ve missed the moment his shoulders loosened. Slowly, and with what seems like a great deal of effort, Boone meets her eyes through his sunglasses.
Cass can’t quite keep the smirk off her face. He clenches his jaw. Before he can voice his regret of this momentary truce, she extends her hand towards him and says, “Rose of Sharon Cassidy.”
Boone nods and shakes her hand. “Craig Boone.”