Note: No, you are not dreaming! This story is not dead. I'll spare you guys the details but, let's just say I've dealing with medical issues the past few months. But I have not given up on this story. I hope this was worth the wait.

Specter of the Past

Marcus and Chief Jackson heard the commotion coming from the Outpost's bar and quickly ran across the compound to find out what was happening. Neither of them were prepared for what they saw. Follows-Chalk and a lone cowgirl were fighting what appeared to be every trooper in the bar ...and they seemed to be holding their own! The cowgirl smashed a trooper over the head with a bar stool, splintering it into several pieces. Another trooper grabbed her from behind and punched the cowgirl in the jaw, knocking her back against the bar. Before the trooper could press his attack he was blindsided by Follows-Chalk who delivered his own right hook to the trooper's head.

The tribal turned to his right and was bum-rushed by two more troopers who threw him to the ground. The cowgirl, her nose and lip bleeding was still on her feet, and she lifted her head just in time to see a trooper, (the one who tripped Follows-Chalk, starting the fight) rushed her in a drunken rage. The cowgirl stepped to the side, and the inebriated soldier ran right into the bar. The cowgirl grabbed a half filled bottle of whiskey and smashed it on top of his head, knocking the trooper to the ground.

The cowgirl stared at the piece of the broken bottle in her hand. "What a waste of good whiskey." She tossed it over her shoulder and charged headlong into the remaining soldiers.

Chief Jackson drew his .44 revolver and fired a shot into the air. The fighting immediately stopped - much to the dismay of the cowgirl who lamented: "Hey, who blew the whistle?"

"That's enough, you grunts!" Jackson yelled. He turned to the cowgirl. "I thought I told you to stay out of trouble!, Cass!"

The cowgirl, who's name apparently was Cass, spit blood onto the floor. "Why the hell you blaming me for?! Those three jar heads over there started it!"

The three "jar heads" were still picking each other up off the floor when the Chief stood in front of them. "Stand at attention!" he snapped.

The troopers stood (as well as they could) to attention.

"After you clean up this mess, you three will be spending the next two days on KP duty. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Chief!" They said in unison.

Jackson turned to the cowgirl. "As for you Cass, you're banned from this bar for two days."

Cass' mouth dropped open. "But that's bullshit…."

"End of discussion!" Jackson shouted. "Everyone else clear out of here!"

Marcus, Follows-Chalk and Dogmeat followed Cass outside. She stormed around to the back of the enlisted club and sat on top of one of the picnic tables seats. Cass put her throbbing head in her hands and took a few deep breaths, trying to calm down.

Follows-Chalk carefully approached the young woman. "Thank you for standing up for me back there."

Cass looked up and waved him off. "Don't worry about it, kid. My mother was a tribal, so whenever I see that bullshit my blood begins to boil." She extended her hand. "Names Cass."

The young tribal smiled and accepted. "I am Follows-Chalk. This is my friend, Six."

Cass looked the Courier up and down. "Six? Does your mother not like you something?"

Marcus let out a chuckle. "Actually it's a ...long story. I'm a Courier for the Mojave Express and I had a little ...accident."

A light bulb seemed to go on in Cass' head. "Are you that Courier who got shot in the head and lived?"

Marcus' eyes went wide, and his right hand instantly touched the bandage on his head. "How'd you know about that?"

"You're in the Mojave - you can't take a shit without everyone knowing what color it is. Heard it on Radio New Vegas." She reached inside her vest and removed a bottle of whiskey. "Hell anyone who survives something like that deserves a drink."

Marcus took a quick look over his shoulder. "Ummm, I thought Ranger Jackson said you couldn't drink for two days."

Cass took a swig from the bottle and handed it to him. "He said I couldn't drink in the club ...but we're not in the club, are we?"

Marcus couldn't argue with her logic, and he simply shrugged and took a shot of whiskey. "So what brings you to the Mojave?"

Cass let out a sigh and stared at the bottle. "Same reason I'm drinking." SHe mumbled. "I'm in ...was in the Caravan business." She took a shot and handed the bottle to Follows-Chalk, who politely declined. "You are looking at all that remains of Cassidy Caravans."

Marcus was about to take another shot from the bottle when froze. Cassidy. THe name sounded familiar ...and that's when his eyes fell on the small, rose shaped pendant around Cass' neck. Suddenly the vision he had back in Zion flashed into his mind:

John Cassidy, mortally wounded and dying in his arms.

"Give this to my wife. Tell her ...to give it to….our daughter, Rose."

"Hey, if you're gonna stare at my tits all day, the least you can do is not hog the whiskey!"

Cass' words knocked Marcus back to the here and now, and the Lone Wanderer found himself both blushing and stuttering. "No I was ...I mean I wasn't ...um - that's and interesting pedant you're wearing.

Cass looked down and briefly touched the pendant. Her boisterous tone tone suddenly took on a more somber one. "I got if from my dad. It was ...the only thing he really gave me before he died. Well ...I got his name and, from what people tell me, his talent with a shotgun."

Even though he already knew the answer, Marcus still decided to ask. "I'm sorry. Do you know how he died?"

Cass let out a sigh, then reached inside her jacket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. "He died on the Poseidon Oil Rig." She placed a cigarette in her mouth, then removed a zippo lighter from her jacket and lit up. "He was part of the raid that took down that dickless President Richards and his band of fuck-tard Enclave." She took a drag from the cigarette. "John Cassidy: Hero of the Republic! Don't get me wrong, I''m proud of what he did but ...I would've rather he'd been there for me and mom."

Marcus and Follows-Chalk both shot each a look, and it was clear to both men were thinking the same thing; meeting this woman was no accident."

"You ...said your mother was a tribal?" Follows-Chalk asked.

Cass let out a puff of smoke. "That's right. We've got tribes out West too, though the NCR's herding them up; domesticating them. My mom was from East of the Colorado ...not sure which tribe. It was before Caesar rounded them up and made them Legion." She took another drag from her cigarette. "She walked a hell of a long way until she crossed paths with my dad and he convinced her to stop walking. And lucky for me, he was a horny old bastard."

Marcus spit out the whiskey he had just downed and struggled to stop coughing. "That's [cough] ,,,one way to put it, I guess."

Now it was Cass who turned a shade of red in her cheeks. "Didn't ...ask mom to elaborate. Never heard her complain about his bedroom behavior, only complaint was he wasn't around to do it no more.

"Anyway after the funeral, Max Lincoln made sure that my mom and I received a monthly pension; even though did wasn't in the NCR military. It helped out a lot, especially when mom got sick."

Marcus had to contain his excitement. "You knew Max Lincoln?"

Cass nodded. "When I was little he'd stop by every now and then to check up on us. I guess he promised my dad he would. But as I got older his visits became less frequent, especially when he was elected President." She took another long drag from her cigarette and blew out the smoke. "Guess he got too busy for us."

The Lone Wanderer could hear the bitterness in her voice and decided to change the subject. "You said you were all that was left of Cassidy Caravans. What did you mean by that?"

Cass sighed and angrily threw her cigarette down. "I got word it was ambushed on the road to Vegas. The cargo ...my employees ...all burned to ash. And even though I don't have a caravan anymore I'm stuck here like everyone else. Jackson says the roads are not safe. No shit, you washed up old fuck! I don't need a Brotherhood Scribe to tell me that!"

Marcus saw his opportunity. "Well it just so happens that Ranger Jackson has hired us to clear that road. Once that's done ...we'll be more than happy to bring you to your caravan."

For the first time since they'd met her, Cass' eyes showed a glimmer of hope. "Really? WHy would you do that for me?"

"Think of it as a way of saying thank you for helping my friend here. We're on our way to Vegas anyway ...and we could always use another fighter."

Cass regarded Marcus and Follows-Chalk as she considered the offer. After a few moments, she took a breath threw her hands up. "You know what - fuck it! Anything's better than hanging around this shithole ...especially since I've been banned from the enlisted club. Just make sure we have plenty of whiskey for the trip."

Marcus smiled and presented his hand. "It's a deal."

They shook on it, and as the two companions left with Dogmeat in tow, Follows-Chalk turned to Marcus. "I had no idea women in the civilized lands had such a, how you say ...colorful way of speaking."

Marcus chuckled. "She's ...kind've the acceptation. I've only met two other people who cused as much she does ...and one of them was twelve years old."

The young tribal was shocked. "In my tribe, a child like that would've been whipped."

Marcus grinned. "Well, this kid was armed with a bolt action rifle. Anyway, let's meet up with the others so we can go on this bug hunt."

Two hours later….

The "bug hunt" turned out to be a nest of giant ants, complete with its own queen. After dealing with the abominations, Marcus returned to the outpost alone with one of the queen's eggs as proof the job was done.

"That's damn fine work you did there." said an impressed Ranger Jackson. "Not only did you clear the roads, but you brought back breakfast, too."

Marcus placed the egg on the Ranger's desk. "Now about our arrangement …"

Jackson raised his hand. "Don't worry, it's been taken care of. You'll find your payment in a crate behind the enlisted club."

The two men shook hands. "Thanks again for your help. I can finally start getting the Caravans moving again. Anytime you want more work, stop on by and I'll see what I can do."

"Thank you, Chief." Marcus immediately headed to the back of the enlisted club where he found the unmarked crate. True to his word, Ranger Jackson had left him fifty microfusion cells, One-hundred rounds of 5.56 ammo, fifty rounds of .44 ammo, one 10mm pistol with two full magazines, five frag grenades and one standard issue AR-15 Service Rifle.

After examining the crate, Marcus made his way over to where he'd left Cass, and found her sitting on a chair with her feet up on a picnic table and her hat covering her eyes. As Marcus got closer, he could hear a faint snoring coming from the cowgirl.

The Lone Wanderer cleared his throat. "Cass? Cass!"

"Alright, alright!" she groaned. "I'm up!"

Given how she nearly fell over while standing, it was clear that Cass was not sober yet. "I'm surprised you actually came back. Most guys would've hit the road."

"Well, I'm not most guys."

"No shit! I'm surprised a boy scout like you is still alive."

They began to walk out of camp when someone called down to them. "Hey Courier! Up here!"

Marcus looked up and spotted the albino sniper on the roof of the main building.

"Can I talk to you for a second? Gotta favor to ask you."

Curiosity got the better of Marcus, and both he and Cass climbed up the ramp to the sniper's nest.

"Hey Ghost." Cass sneered. "Getting a good tan, I see."

The sniper only sneered back. "Nice to see you too, shit-kicker."

Marcus couldn't tell if the women were kidding or serious with their banter, and he cautiously stuck out his hand. "I'm Six."

Ghost shook his hand. "I heard you're the guy who cleared the roads; good job. Listen, Nipton is burning. I can see it through scope up ahead."

Marcus stepped up to the roof' and looked through a pair of binoculars. Sure enough, he could see a black plume of smoke just beyond the horizon. "Do you know anyone there?"
Ghost seemed taken aback by the question. "In Nipton? God no! I just want you to scout it out; let me know what happened. I'd go myself but, Chief says he needs everyone here.:

"What can you tell me about Nipton."

Cass provided the answer. "Imagine if every asshole you've ever met decided to settle in the same town. That's Nipton."

"I just want to know its isn't something we need to worry about." Ghost said, and she handed Marcus a handheld radio. "Take this, it's got a range of up to five miles. Radio back on this frequency if you find out anything. If there are any survivors in the town, they'd most likely be in the main hall."

Marcus took the radio and nodded. "We'll do."

Ghost looked relieved. "Thank you. I can't pay you, but I can put in a good word for you with the Rangers at Camp McCarren."

Marcus thanked her and headed out. Once they'd made it to the bottom of the hill, Marcus introduced Cass the rest of his companions.

"Wow ...you sure travel with a colorful group." She made her way over to Sarah and offered her hand. "Nice to meet you."

The smell of alcohol nearly caused Sarah's eyes to water. Nevertheless she shook the cowgirl's hand. "Thank you. Um ...Mar ...I mean - Six! Can I speak to you for a moment?"

Marcus followed her, and once they were out of ear shot from the rest of the group, Sarah spun around. "What the hell are you doing, Marcus? I said we needed ammo and supplies, I don't recall asking for a drunken cowgirl!"

"Ok, first of all, she's not that drunk …"

He was interrupted by the sound of someone vomiting, and they both turned in time to see Cass throwing up. "Damn [spit] ...I don't remember eating that!"

Sarah turned and stared daggers at Marcus, who could only shrug. "Ok, maybe she is, but I think she can help us."

"How - by building a still?"

"Remember the vision I had? When John Cassidy asked my grandfather to look after his daughter Rose?" He glanced over at Cass, who had just lite up a cigarette.

Sarah's mouth dropped open. "You're telling me that's her?!"

Marcus nodded. "She's even wearing the pendant John gave my grandfather to give to her. I know she's ...rough around the edges ...but I think we were meant to find her here and take her with us. Besides, as a caravan driver, she probably knows these roads better than anyone."

While Sarah was more than skeptical about Marcus' theory, she still felt a shiver go down her spine. If Marcus' vision was as accurate as it seemed, than her own terrible vision …

"Alright!" She said as she pushed the thought away. "But I swear, the first time she does anything to compromise this mission, we're leaving her on the side of the road."

Marcus nodded. "Fair enough. Besides, I have a feeling we're going to run into trouble at Nipton, and an extra gun might come in handy."

Note: I hope you guys like how I'm tying in the games. I know I'm changing some of the Fallout lore, but I hope you all like it just the same. And even though she never smoked during the game, come on, Cass is totally the kind of girl who would. I think you all guessed that the next chapter will be important, because Marcus and Sarah will finally face the Legion.