No Place for No Hero

Epilogue: Look for the Gold in the Rainbow

Notes: Needed something to actually finish this portion of the story. I'm hoping this does the job.

It's in a different POV from the rest but I hope you still enjoy reading it. As always, feedback is appreciated.

Although he wanted to remain in denial due to the embarrassment involved, Arcade finally had to admit he was nursing a pretty bitching hangover the next morning.

He awoke with a monumental headache and felt some remorse at his situation, wondering what had possessed him. He was a doctor in his mid-thirties, after all. But he couldn't remember the last time he'd suffered through a hangover after a night of hedonistic drinking, if he was being honest with himself. And a part of him figured it was high time it happened again if that were the case. His life had become tedious to the point of being dull in the last few years, he could freely admit.

Besides, Julie and his colleagues might be relieved if they were to see him in this state, proving he was just human after all.

The things we tell ourselves for peace of mind…

Arcade soon found his thirst and headache were more important than his wounded pride. With a defeated sigh, he came to terms with it (whether positive or negative, there was no going back ) and opened his eyes slowly. The guest room was empty, neither Boone or ED-E anywhere in sight and it was the only reason he allowed the groan that escaped as he pulled himself out of bed.

Massaging his temple with one hand, Arcade drained the bottled water he'd found on the nightstand as he made his way out of the guest room towards the kitchen area. He needed coffee and he remembered the courier had shown him where it was the day before.

He needn't have bothered looking for it, however, a kettle of boiling water already sitting on the hot plate along with a tin of coffee and several mugs on the counter next to it. The remains of two drained mugs were near the wash area, Six and Boone apparently already up.

He tossed the empty water bottle into the trash, missed spectacularly and grumbled at it but he didn't have the energy or inclination to go pick it up. Instead he prepared himself a cup of coffee, taking an eager but careful sip and letting out a quiet breath of contentment at the first burning taste. He padded over to the table slowly, still in his socks. A few magazines littered the table's surface where Six left them along with her notes, some pencil sketches and a few diagrams on loose sheets of paper.

He had just slumped into an empty chair and set his aching head down with a soft thump when he heard the jarring and distinctive sound of a body hitting the floor from across the hall. The sound was followed by a string of expletives, all clearly coming from the courier.

Sighing tiredly into the table's wooden surface, he wondered if he should go investigate, a part of him a little weary at the thought of being forced to move so soon. He waited, wondering idly if she was in trouble. After a few moments he told himself she wasn't as no further sound came from that direction.

He lifted his head briefly and took another careful sip, thanking the blessed silence. The coffee certainly wasn't anything gourmet but beggars couldn't be choosers…

The sound came again, a body connecting with another hard surface but this time it was followed by a crash of crockery and then, "Fuuuuuck! Boone, you made me break the lamp!"

With a sigh, he knew he'd have to interfere now. Abusive relationships were the worst and they could be found where you least suspected them. As was the case here, it seemed. He had seen them together, would never have suspected anything of the sort but that was exactly the point; one never knew from appearances alone.

He took one last careful gulp before he set his coffee cup down mournfully and approached the game room.

The pool table had been pushed against the wall and the broken shards of a lamp were being swept to the side by the courier as Boone watched. The sniper's breathing was a little labored and he was in the process of putting a cigarette between his lips, his sunglasses off. He was in a green t-shirt and a pair of loose fitting pants, his head and feet bare. Arcade tried not to stare too much but it was the first time he'd seen him without the sunglasses and beret on. It was a little jarring. He shouldn't have worried that his stare would be noticed, he realized quickly, Boone's frown on the courier as he lit the cigarette and took a quick drag.

Arcade finally found his voice, letting out a careful drawl. "Everyone okay in here?"

Six looked up from where she was collecting the shards on her jacket, giving him a small frown. She looked frustrated, too, he noticed and she was also dressed down in an undershirt and a pair of cargo pants. The material was clinging and bare in the midriff area. Her hair was pulled up in a messy bun on top of her head, not in a braid for once and she was sweating. She had her fingerless gloves on as well, he observed, about to warn her of the danger of picking up the broken pieces with her hands.

"We're fine," Boone grunted in response, going over to the courier and squatting down next to her to take over her task. "Get going on the exercises," he muttered, cigarette smoking between his lips. "You screwed up twice because you're not paying attention. Focus."

This was clearly something different than what he'd assumed.

The frown on the courier's face deepened, but she stood and headed towards the clear floor to slowly drop into push-up position before she began counting. Boone walked her jacket full of shards out of the room towards the kitchen trashcan without a look back.

Arcade blinked in confusion as the courier continued doing push-ups on the floor, wondering absently if this was why she didn't braid her hair. It would definitely get in the way.

"So... you're all right, then?" he tried once again.

"I'm fucking up, but were 'fine', like Boone said," she muttered, her tone tight. He wondered if the tone was because she was answering him mid push-up or because of the tension he could feel coming off her even from her position on the floor.

"…O-kay…"

She continued her work in silence, no further response coming from her mouth.

Rubbing a hand over his tired face, he turned and left the madness behind him for the company of his abandoned cup of coffee.

Arcade wondered what he had gotten himself into when he offered to join the courier on her one-woman mission to solve the ills plaguing the Mojave. Lounging in the bath, a damp towel over his closed eyes, he almost snorted, it seemed so delusional.

Although it wasn't a one-woman show anymore, he mused. He was part of this now, after all. And it wasn't like the courier had been alone any of the times he had seen her, always trailed by the sniper and the eyebot. Even now.

They had left earlier, Six with Boone following right behind, after they had cleaned up and the game room was put back together. Arcade had opted to stay behind, not wanting to be anywhere near sunlight and ED-E needed to reboot for a while, going to sleep mode on the couch in the guest bedroom, his usual spot.

He wasn't entirely sure what the relationship between his two other companions was. He could guess if he wanted to but that was all it would be in the end; a guess. There was something there, he could sense it but it wasn't clear cut enough for him to be certain.

He didn't want to think about the eyebot too much, though. There were a lot of memories involved with something so clearly Enclave... Instead, he pondered his decision again as he thought about leaving New Vegas and Freeside behind tomorrow to journey as the courier had tasked.

She had bid him to join her after they'd first met and he had refused then, easily. But the opportunity she offered had caught his attention, stewing in his mind for days after. His research hadn't amounted to much, something he'd been aware of for months already. What was worse, however, was the deep sense of dissatisfaction that had slowly gotten hold of him. He was in desperate need to pull himself out of that, knowing that he couldn't let it remain and cloud his work or the need to help others.

She had offered him an out. And he hadn't taken the decision lightly. He witnessed the result of some of her work in the time since their first meeting. She had gotten rid of that lowly waste of a human-being Dixon and gotten the worst of his victims into rehab at the Old Mormon Fort. She had convinced Julie to trade with James Garret at the Atomic Wrangler, their deal mutually beneficial.

What finally got him to start considering her offer seriously was the Weathers family that had just left the Fort a few days ago. They had arrived a few weeks before, all three suffering from days of near starvation and dehydration. The youngest was suffering from heatstroke as well and they had required many days of recovery.

When Arcade later heard they had escaped Legion captivity, his curiosity had been piqued. Any story that ended with an escape from Legion capture was rare and he wanted to find out how they had managed it while retaining the majority of their bodies intact. But he couldn't ask directly, even he knew that, bad bedside manner notwithstanding.

It wasn't until one day when Six had come by to dump some more supplies for them that it all became clear. He had spoken to her briefly, of what he couldn't remember. But Kenny had seen him and approached him about it later and asked if the doctor knew her. Arcade affirmed that he did and that's when Kenny told him how they had escaped a life of Legion slavery, of her involvement in their escape.

"She got us out of Cottonwood Cove. She bought our freedom, walked in there and got us to walk out."

"Six?"

Kenny nodded, his face serious.

And that's what had finally convinced him. She didn't just help the Followers. He heard the rumors that she helped the NCR, too. But it was the knowledge that she had also helped this family escape a brutal future, with no caps or reputation or acknowledgement as a motivating factor. She hadn't been lying to him when she told him she wanted to make a difference. She already was.

Kenny had handed him a letter, Arcade suddenly remembered with a start, bathwater sloshing as he sat up suddenly.

He also realized he had dozed off, the water in the bath now cold. But he felt better, the light not bothering him as much now and the tension drained from his upper back.

The pressure weighing on him over whether he had made the right decision was slowly easing, he realized with a small smile.

His headache was gone by lunchtime and it was around that time when the elevator dinged announcing the return of the courier and Boone from their trip to restock ammo. Arcade didn't look up from his meal of Blamco mac-n-cheese but their conversation reached him at the kitchen table before they did, following them from the elevator to her bedroom.

"It's something that needs to get done." Boone sounded matter-of-fact, Arcade noted.

"Like cleaning your rifle you mean?" There was a note of skepticism in her voice and the sound of heavy bags being dropped on the floor reached his ears.

Boone's answer was too low for Arcade to hear, but it sounded like agreement.

"Can I be really honest with you and tell you you're being scary right now?"

Not bothering to mask his interest, Arcade leaned back in his chair to better hear them, slowing his chewing. He wondered if they would shut the door behind them or if they were even aware he was listening.

"You have to look at this differently, Six."

"You just offered to kill someone for me," she deadpanned.

He swallowed the bite he had in his mouth in surprise, not chewing and thankfully not choking on it. With a frown, he wondered what kind of people the courier worked with. He knew enough about her but he realized he knew next to nothing about her companions. The eyebot was already in question, but he hadn't bothered to think much about the sniper, seeing his NCR affiliations a mile away with that red beret.

Could he really feel comfortable travelling with a cold-blooded killer as the courier wanted him to? He thought about this as he continued listening.

"He needs to be put down or he'll become a threat again," was the sniper's explanation.

"I doubt he'll try anything again, Craig."

"He shot you in the head point-blank already, Six. He's got an inflated sense of importance, he stole from one of the most connected men on the Strip and you don't even know what his men are doing with him since you left him there."

Ah, it was that guy…

"Craig, we had this conversation already." The tone in the courier's voice was wary. He could hear it.

After a long moment, they both walked into the kitchen and joined Arcade for lunch, not speaking further and making what remained of his meal really difficult to finish.

Feeling the need to lighten the mood, Arcade reached into the pocket of his lab coat and pulled out the letter, pushing it across the table towards Six.

Confused, she looked up from pushing the food around in her plate, not helping it look any more appetizing.

"I forgot that Kenny Weathers asked me to give this to you," he clarified.

"Kenny Weathers?" She sat up, her expression clearing. "Where did you-?"

"The Mormon Fort. They arrived a few weeks ago, all of them safe. They just left not too long ago, heading for Goodsprings they mentioned." He knew that would make her happy and it did. He was rewarded with the huge smile that split her face and she wasted no time in opening the envelope.

He finished the last of his lunch slowly as he watched her read, her smile softening the further down the page she got. When she was done, she swallowed audibly and folded the letter back up to tuck it away in the envelope, turning to her food once again.

Silence reigned for a moment and he didn't glance up until he had finished with his plate. And that's when he saw it.

She had begun crying into her lunch silently, he noticed with some chagrin, feeling embarrassed for her. But he also felt his heart softening, a need to do something nagging at him.

He was glad when the sniper reached out and placed a supportive hand on her back. But it was brief because she wiped her face with her napkin and walked away from the kitchen shortly after.

Neither of them followed and Arcade could only assume she probably felt mortified.

He didn't see her again until dinner and didn't have a chance to speak to her until they were in the cocktail lounge, nearing the end of the evening to have an after dinner drink. Or three, in the courier's case.

She was in a better mood by then. Quieter, sure, but more talkative compared to the whole day so far. All their bags were packed, their weapons cleaned and in prime condition. Six had written a letter for the Weathers and had also written one addressed to Doc Mitchell, Trudy and Sunny in Goodsprings. Receiving one from Kenny had inspired her to reach out to the people she still thought about in the settlement she had woken up in.

"I guess Goodsprings is home away from home," she mused beside him, a whiskey in hand once again.

He steered clear of the alcohol himself, knowing he didn't have her stamina. She drank like this and still woke up to wrestle a retired NCR sniper the next morning followed by push-ups and whatever else that morning routine of hers consisted of. No, he couldn't drink like that anymore.

But he enjoyed their conversation, their talk turning towards their thoughts on how they fit or didn't fit in the 'grand scheme of things'. The fact that neither one of them was content with sitting back and watching was all they were really sure of in the end.

When he knew he couldn't hold it anymore, he excused himself to find a restroom. The cocktail lounge didn't house a working one, surprisingly. He briefly contemplated going to bed after that, just leaving them for the evening. But the question was still bothering him about those two and whatever it was they were. He knew that if he didn't find out now before they split up tomorrow then he'd have no luck getting an answer out of the sniper.

He cursed his nosiness but eventually succumbed, feeding the beast instead.

The ding of the elevator must have alerted them of his return, but if they heard it they didn't let on. He tiptoed over, most of the lights off, the only ones remaining on were near the bar and the ones coming in from the Strip below.

He stopped near the opening from the elevator and looked at the booth below where they still were. Boone was sitting up and smoking a cigarette, his legs stretched out and crossed at the ankle on the table in front of him. Next to him was the courier, stretched out against him, her own legs on the table but her face in his neck, dead asleep. There was a soft exhale as Boone blew some smoke out and the music from her pip-boy was the only sound, a melancholy background to the atmosphere that had taken over the cocktail lounge in his brief absence.

Arcade finally cleared his throat.

"Is she out?" he wondered, starting to feel like a weirdo for just standing there watching them silently.

"Yep."

"Hmm… Need any help carrying her down?" He wasn't sure what made him ask that. He had no desire to do it whatsoever, feeling particularly lethargic.

"Nope."

"Well, good night then." And he turned and left before he could wonder about it anymore.

The fact that the sniper wasn't in the room when Arcade's alarm went off before dawn the next morning was the answer he was looking for, he supposed.

When the door opened ten minutes later and Boone walked in, Arcade couldn't help himself.

"Said your goodbyes?" he asked, voice glib, not really expecting an answer. He had been about ready to go wake him and potentially embarrass them all and was glad that it hadn't gotten to that.

But Boone shook his head, confusing Arcade even further. "It's best if we don't say goodbye. Let's just go before she wakes up," he said quietly, grabbing his own gear and changing in the muted darkness of the room.

"You didn't wake her up?" He knew his disbelief was evident.

"Couldn't do it."

"So you're not together?"

"No." The response was not pleasant, a warning note there.

"But you spent the night with her?"

"Yes." It was getting worse, Arcade noticed it.

He pressed on, nonetheless. "But no sex?"

Dead silence but the look on Boone's face said it all. There was no way the man in front of him had just gotten laid.

"And nothing else has happened between you? You've never kissed her?"

The sniper's face gave him away again and Arcade marveled at that, inexplicably tickled at this new revelation. "Well well well…"

"Can it, doc. We've got miles to travel so let's go."

Arcade left it at that, knowing their journey would be unpleasant otherwise.

But he felt he wasn't completely confused anymore; at least, not as badly as Boone apparently was.

Notes 9/4/16: Part II is now up. Entitled 'Way Down We Go' and is rated M to be safe. Check it out. :)