Author's Note: A response to the Fallout Kink Meme prompt: "When Boone dies, like any other NCR soldier he has a letter on his person for his loved one—canonly, it's Carla (and being a man of a few words, it's sad and sweet and simple). I'd love to see this note rewritten to the Courier."

I had a lot of fun writing this~ I'm tempted to write some sort of sequel/aftermath.

10:34 PM.

That was the time that read on the courier's trusty Pip-Boy, but it felt like midday. The night was young, though that might have been in due thanks to her acquired habit of less sleep and more exploring. What else was there to do? The NCR didn't need her anymore to help with the Strip. Borrowed, used, and discarded until they needed her again. And, hell, she'd be ready. It's what she did.

She had her Presidential Suite, of course, but she wasn't a fan of going back there unless she needed to patch up some weapons, craft ammo, or fix serious wounds and she couldn't get a hold of a doctor. It was … too lonely. Everybody had left.

Veronica, one of her closest friends she had ever had, went back to the Brotherhood. Arcade, her dubbed 'big brother', assumed his old duty of helping the Followers. Cass hadn't really specified where she was runnin' off to, but it was for sure that she wasn't sticking around the courier. No hard feelings, really. Lily had returned to Jacobstown to settle back down (and remain taking her medicine, of course). ED-E left suddenly, without the courier even knowing. The King, for obvious reasons, wanted the trusty Rex back. Raul wanted to go back home, and the woman encouraged him without hesitation. And finally, Boone, her ol' sniping buddy, re-enlisted with his old unit.

The series of vanishings stung, yes, but she was stronger than that to let it get to her. She didn't serve much of a purpose other than discovering locations she'd never been, assisting random freelancers, or picking off those that committed the wrong deeds.

10:35. Reminiscing was never a good way to pass the time, so she didn't do it often.

At this moment, of 10:35, the war-worn but young courier trekked across the Mojave wasteland, not exactly sure where she was going but not exactly caring, either (unless it led her into another mountain infested with Cazadores or quarry ridden with Deathclaws). She sported NCR Ranger combat armor, given to her from a grateful veteran. His eyes were filled with tears when he learned that she was the upbringing of the NCR in the end.

She loved the set, really. A perfect medium armor that didn't slow her down too much, but also kept up some damage resistance. Maintained pretty well, too.

Cradled in her hands was a YCS/186 Gauss Rifle. If she wanted to go down the humorous route, she'd say that it was her only true friend left. But really, it was her trustiest rifle, most efficient, and the gun she was known for. 'That courier and her special rifle' just seemed to casually make its way into conversation.

The desert sand crunched under her boots, a decent-sized set of hills up ahead. She focused on the gravelly sound, hauling herself up over one of the large boulders until she froze at the sound of a gunshot. Not just one, but multiple. She rolled to the side of it for cover, eyes scanning from behind the helmet until she realized she wasn't the target. Continuous shots ran out.

Bringing up her rifle, she peered through her scope. A few fires were way down below—campsites. They were quickly being vacated, a bunch of soldiers scrambling to get their weapons and armor back on. Those that were on patrol must not have been expecting such an attack …

Said attack was something that surprised even the courier. There were dozens of soldiers—NCR, now that she got a better look—but maybe a hundred fiends. They must have been holing up in some sewers of some sort, perhaps planning an attack against the soldiers.

Either way, even if the courier wasn't mentally sworn to the NCR, they needed help, and that was her purpose.

She slid down a bit farther towards the camp to get a better vantage point, rocks tumbling down in resistance. The fiends weren't expecting her to be here.

The first quad of MFC went blasting into the first fiend that walked in the view of her scope. He had been waving a machete wildly around, no sense of actual battle technique to be found. Now, he flew back and smacked into a nearby mohawk-wearing woman, who scowled and jerked her head up to the courier's position. Before she could start hollering something about her position, the armored soldier reloaded with a loud click and sent another shot in her direction. Her head was subsequently blown off.

Boone had been sleeping soundly, knowing he could trust the others' perceptive eyes, but nobody was expecting the raid. Everybody was well-equipped; however, waking dozens of NCR soldiers out of a sleepy haze to help in a fight against a surprise attack (of a large amount of fiends, no less) tended to work towards their disadvantage.

The sniper himself was trained in this more than most of them, so he grabbed his rifle and swung out of the bed roll immediately. He had his beret and combat armor, as per usual. He wasn't the one giving orders, but in a time of unexpected chaos like this, he took it upon himself to help out a few of the ones that were lost by giving them a time frame and a personal mission. Take this side, go for that one, you've got less than this amount of time before … etc.

When he had heard the loud, metallic sound of a Gauss rifle being fired, he was unsure. A fraction of a second later, he saw the dim blue impact residue after the cells pounded into a fiend. Nobody in his unit was carrying one of them, and for a moment, he thought of the courier.

The chances of running into her were slim, and as slim as they were, it was still enough for him to get distracted enough so a fiend just barely took a switchblade to his neck before another soldier shoved him out of the way, taking his own brass knuckles and uppercutting the unwanted man's jaw.

"God dammit, Boone, snap out of it!" he barked. Boone nodded swiftly and brought up his own sniper rifle to take out one of them.

The next metallic shot fired, he looked to the source and saw a darker blur of armor and gun alternate between crouching and firing. Debating between remaining here, finding another post, and checking out the veiled newcomer, he eventually decided on trekking up the small path that led up to the Gauss rifle-holder.

Upon a closer inspection, he found that they were donned with NCR Ranger combat armor. The clues fit perfectly, and he was almost one-hundred percent sure that they were who he thought they were …

"Hey-"

They reloaded quickly, elbow moving back and forth like lightning, he was almost unsure that they hadn't even done anything. An even faster turn had him shoving the hot barrel out of the way before the quad of MFC and his face became best friends. Instead, the shot impacted into a boulder.

They saw that Boone was merely another NCR soldier and focused attention back on the raid. "Dammit, don't sneak up on me like that!" Female. Another definitive clue. It would have been funny that he used these same words on a certain courier back in the day, if not for the given circumstances. "There's bound to be some coming from the west. They might try to flank, so get a party over there. We'll also need some to watch our backs. I didn't see any on the way up, but it wasn't a wide set of mountains. You a sniper?" She must have seen his rifle. "Go back down and inform your general or whoever is in charge of what I just told you, and then get up to a high point. Tell any snipers to do the same, we can pick off a lot of them from where they can't see us or get to us."

He was almost going to argue, ask if she had recognized him, but it was dark and there was too much going on for him to object now.

"Right," he responded gruffly, remembering that if he didn't get his head in the game, his team would suffer.

A large flock of fiends were rumbling through, and the courier took the opportunity to grab a plasma grenade from her belt and throw it towards them. They weren't even able to register the interference before it blew them to bits.

"That should give you all some breathing room," she murmured to the NCR soldiers, who were picking off the last few of this charge and gaining their heads. She looked down at the general, and now that they had a bit of time, he was able to instruct the others on what to do. From his gestures, it looked like her orders had gone through to the chain of command.

"Hey! Help!" Cries from somewhere behind her yanked attention away from the soldiers and towards the source of the noise. She hoisted herself up a ridge so she could stealthily look over the other side but remain hidden. There was an NCR soldier jammed between a few rocks, rather loud noises of pain mixed in with his grunting and wiggling around to break free.

"Stop moving," she whispered harshly, "you'll make it worse."

His head jerked up to look at her, unaware he had actually gotten somebody to assist him. "I think my ankle's broken, but I can't tell," he called back hopelessly. He let out another groan. "Arm's shot, too, though that didn't affect me too much earlier!"

She looked around, saw that the coast was temporarily cleared, and slid down carefully. "What happened?"

"Wait a minute, are you—you're, you're that courier, aren't you?" His eyes, behind the standard goggles, flickered to her Gauss rifle. "And that gun, that's—oh, God, this must be such a burden to you." He looked away while she knelt down to inspect his ankle.

"Don't worry about that. I can fix this ankle up—your shoulder, too—once this is all over. For now, though, tell me what happened."

He inhaled deeply. "Well, Boone told me that all snipers needed to retreat from camp and get up onto higher ground."

"Wait a minute. Boone?" She glanced up at him curiously. So, that blob-like, dark thing that was on the guy's head was a first recon beret. She hadn't been paying too much attention to any details, but now that she thought back …

"Yeah—oh! You traveled with him a long while ago, didn't you? He's told a few stories."

She couldn't help but smile a little at that. "He's told stories, huh?" What a change. The thought amused her for a while before she grabbed a hold just below his knee, one hand latched onto his boot.

The soldier nodded. "You got it. And so the general agreed with these orders, so I did as told and came up here. Got messed up in my footing and fell down here. I managed to stand up before—augh! Oh, dear God, what in the hell?"

The courier had untwisted his foot from the rocky constraints and yanked him aside, no additional damage other than maybe a sharp pain he may have felt. "Like a band-aid. It's over now." She gave him another once-over. "You can still fire, can't you?"

He nodded, tentatively leaning down to touch at the tender bruising around his ankle. "Y-Yeah."

"Come with me, then. We're gonna head west, a little ways that-a-way, and stay hidden. You know, pick off the remaining fiends from there." She took one of his arms and threw it around her shoulder, one of her arms looping around his waist for maximum support.

"Yes, ma'am."

Boone had gone to find the armored woman, only to see that she had left her post. Was she gone already? Did she simply give the NCR a better grasp of the situation and leave the rest in their hands, knowing that they could handle themselves now?

He winced, but once again turned around and went about his responsibilities like it didn't sting that she wasn't here anymore, didn't recognize him …

"Oww, dammit!"

"I told you to quiet down. At least until we get to higher ground. You want the remaining fiends to find our position and overwhelm us?"

Boone raised an eyebrow before looking back over the mountain. He spotted the woman and one of the other soldiers, apparently wounded. It was just like her to help. Her Gauss rifle was in its holster as it would be too difficult to carry while escorting the both of them across. Of course she didn't leave. She wouldn't leave until she knew that everything was secure and over.

The duo reached the edge of the mountain, just above where the rest were fighting, and the courier gently set the other down so she could resume the battle. Boone's vantage point was not far from her, and he'd be lying if he said he was completely focused on just picking off fiends.

Eventually, the few that were left retreated. Everybody knew they weren't coming back, especially since there weren't any NCR casualties, as far as Boone could tell. That would have been different if not for the savior in combat armor.

The sniper scaled back down the mountain, just in time to hear the general commanding the team to head back to the camp and clean up after the proud 'Good luck.' He spotted Boone instantly and gestured for him to come over to him.

"Alright, where is she?"

"Who-"

"You know who, the courier! Without her we might've lost at least a dozen soldiers. She still up there in the mountains or something?" He peered around Boone, and almost as if on cue, the courier came sliding down with extreme precision, the soldier, on one foot, by her side.

With the cape of her armor blowing in the Mojave breeze and a wounded person in her care, she looked like some kind of superhero. Another soldier, one specialized in patching up the team, came running up to the courier and took the other off her shoulder. "I'll take care of him. Thank you!"

And as she finally approached the general and Boone, she turned to the sniper and smiled beneath her mask. "Hey."

A simple greeting, something he was unsure how to respond to. "Hey," he tried, and the general took it away from there.

He swung an arm around her shoulder and gave her back a hearty pat, leading her back towards the camp. "I can't thank you enough. Stay with the camp tonight, we can offer supplies and the like if you need it. We can also work out a reward once the payout's done with …"

The courier held up her hands and shook her head. "That's not necessary, honestly. In fact, I really should be on my way-"

"What?" the general interrupted. "Nonsense. Stay, I'm sure the team would like the comfort of you around. Aside from that, you and Boone are on good terms, aren't you? Catch up on old times. We've got food, too."

She chuckled. The general obviously wanted her to stay, so what else could she do but oblige? She also found it amusing how he tempted her with Boone and food. Two completely different ends of the spectrum, but effective nonetheless. "Alright, alright."

When they got back to the camp, they found that there wasn't too much internal damage. Any of the ranged attackers (like herself) had done a good job of making sure the fiends didn't get too close. The few bodies that did make it past were dragged farther away so that the area was fiend-free.

11:21.

As everything calmed down, the courier checked her Pip-Boy for the time. Even that hadn't killed a lot of time. That's all she really liked doing anymore: just waste time until she had none left. Maybe that's why they called it the wasteland, she mused.

She sat around one of the campfires with the man she had rescued (his name was Robertson, she found out eventually) and the general (whose last name was Wright). Boone was nowhere to be found, curiously enough, and his whereabouts were gnawing at her mind like a starved molerat.

"So, what'll it be, ma'am? We got Mac 'n' Cheese, Squirrel Stew—hell, we've even got a small amount of fresh Brahmin Steak," the general offered.

"Actually, do you have any Cram?"

His face fell. "Uh, what?"

"Cram."

"Yeah, I know, but … you actually want, er, Cram?"

Robertson chided in after ripping off a piece of squirrel from the wooden stick with his teeth, definitely feeling much better after injected with a painkiller, ankle and shoulder wrapped up, "Nobody likes Cram. Or even eats it, unless they have to."

"It's an acquired taste," she replied, laughing lightly at their reactions. "See, at the Lucky 38, in the presidential suite, I'd always have to refill the fridge for my team. Gotta keep 'em well and fed, you know? Well, every time I'd look in there after a long day of questing, there'd be a few bottles of Nuka Cola or Sunset Sarsaparilla and some Cram. I didn't mind, really, I could always find more food, always did. I ate Cram almost every night for dinner. Eventually, it grew on me. And if I can stand it, why not spare the others from eating it?"

General Wright shook his head, glancing at Robertson. "Honestly, you see this woman? A damned Goddess, I swear it. But I'm sure you hear that all the time." He pushed off of the ground and headed towards one of the tents. "I'll get your meal for ya. You just sit tight."

"Man, the general sure is in a good mood tonight. Glad you showed up, otherwise we would've been traveling with hell's favorite human," the soldier remarked, taking a sip out of a Sunset Sarsaparilla bottle.

The courier was silent for a moment, staring at the crackling fire. "Hey, Robertson, do you have any idea where Boone is?"

He shrugged. "I think he was just fixing up his sniper rifle with a few of the guys. You're welcome to go find him, pretty sure they're in that tent over there." He jut his thumb towards one of the tents, which the courier didn't bother looking at.

"No, that's okay. I'll wait for him."

And honestly, Boone was in that tent, working away at his rifle. He intended on doing so until things got even more quiet, as in everybody but those on guard in bed. As much as he actually wanted to catch up with the woman, he wasn't really on par with having interruptions from his star-struck comrades and superiors.

Soon enough, the camp was nearly dead silent aside from the sounds of the Mojave and the occasional nearby crunching of desert sand from those out patrolling (and wishing for a nuclear winter, of course). When Boone exited the tent, he saw that the courier hadn't moved. Her back was to him, although she was just lifting off her helmet when he was drawing near.

He made sure his footsteps were significantly louder than usual so another incident from before wouldn't occur again. Her head was just turning to the side a little to look at him when he joined her side on the ground.

"I was wondering where you were," she commented casually, the corners of her lips upturned. "I was beginning to think that you didn't want to see me," she teased.

"Heh. Not exactly." She didn't ask what his reasons were, and silence filled the air once again. Soft crackling from the fire seemed to draw the courier's attention away from him, and she stared at it almost solemnly, in some kind of trance. "What have you been up to?" he tried, which brought her chin up once again.

"Oh, well, nothing really. The usual."

"As in taking on important and deadly missions?"

She shrugged, a chuckle escaping past her lips. "Well, take out 'important' and you've got my day. Hell, I just go where the wind takes me, really. Just recently I was low on caps, so I helped this woman from the Thorn, Red Lucy, gather up different eggs. Did you know there's such a thing as a Legendary Deathclaw? I don't think I'd ever been more terrified in my entire life. Took it down, though."

"But you had Arcade or Veronica with you, right?" he asked innocently enough, unaware of why she frowned suddenly and shook her head.

"They left a while back, not long after you did."

"Who's left?" Right after the words left his mouth, he instantly regretted it. She obviously hadn't talked about those who she used to travel with in a very long time. He felt like bringing a palm to his face, chiding himself for not realizing that there wasn't anybody with her today. That must have meant that everybody was gone.

And, just as he feared, she sighed out, "Everyone. Though I suppose it's for the best. With the missions I go on nowadays, they're much safer they are now."

"Why?"

She looked at him, confused. "Why what?"

"Why do you go on these constant suicide missions, anyway?"

"For the thrill. Because nobody else will. Because that's why I'm here." She sighed, holding out her arms in exasperation. "I don't know, all of the above, none of the above. Whatever it is, I'm fine with what I'm doing, just like everybody else is. I like helping camps keep their bearings. Which reminds me, what's your current objective here, anyway?"

With a not-so clever topic change, the courier successfully averted the conversation in another direction. "Fiends are holding up a huge amount of drugs. Massive. Enough to resurrect a pre-war hospital. We aren't sure where they trace back to, but we intend on finding out. They must have got wind of it and decided to take matters into their own hands. Didn't work out too well, though. It should be easier getting in and out, now."

"Where are you going to bring the supplies, then?"

"Camp Golf. We might be able to transform it into a sort of central NCR hospital."

"Huh. Well." She definitely didn't dislike the idea. Again, she looked over to the sniper, who appeared to have joined her in the act of staring at the whirling flames of the campfire, the occasional popping and cracking drawing them into a lull.

Boone looked exhausted. He was, after all, woken up from a sleep, immediately put into combat, and awake for the past hours.

"Hey. I'm sure you're all getting up early tomorrow, so why don't you get some rest?" she offered.

"What about you?"

She shrugged. "Not tired yet. Don't worry about me, I really don't need much sleep to operate anymore." A light chuckle filled the air. "Actually, didn't it used to be the other way around? You'd almost never sleep while I was snorin' away in a bedroll." A beat. "I felt safe." Now that she thought about it, maybe part of her insomnia was the simple fear that she wouldn't be safe and sound at night? Even in the Lucky 38, with no Victor or other Securitrons, she was alone.

Now that she looked like she was going to burst into tears at any moment, Boone wasn't so sure he wanted to sleep anymore.

She put a hand on his arm. It was so unfamiliar and feminine, even somewhat soft, yet still worn from weapon-handling and all the other tasks that wore away at her fingertips. An odd combination. "Don't worry. I've got your back."

The courier misread his hesitation, but he couldn't just decline her after that. Her cool touch left him when he began to pull off the top layer of the combat armor he wore. He set it aside rather carelessly and crawled down on top of one of the bedrolls nearest to the courier. This was all a familiar routine, and at the moment, with everybody either in the tents, asleep, or around the perimeter, it felt just like old times.

Boy, did she sure miss having him with her. However, he seemed more than just a little well off back in his unit. Even … happy. At peace, for sure. Everybody was, and that's what she wanted.

She stared down at his discarded armor and, the disorder bothering her, picked it up so she could fold it neatly and place it next to her so she could block the wind from blowing it away. As she straightened the sleeves and under-armor behind the chest plating, she found that it wouldn't straighten out completely. She yanked on it with a bit more force, and it sounded as if the cloth was just stuck to the metal because of some sticky substance, like dried jelly without the mess.

Out came tumbling a piece of paper, and in almost an instant, the courier recognized what it was. She had seen the note to Carla back in the middle of their time together (on accident, mind you), but didn't dare read it. She respected his privacy, and, after all, it was only to be read if he died.

She snatched it up and bit her lip, unsure of how she was going to put this back. The light of the flames washed over the paper, and for just a moment, the word 'Carla' almost looked like 'Courier.'

At a second glance, she saw that it did read courier, and honestly, she panicked.

She looked at Boone, who was surely out, his light snoring an indication of that, with her hand nearly giving the paper a death grip. She kept it in her lap and she stared ahead at the fire for a few seconds, attempting to calm herself. What the hell was she supposed to do now?

Reading it felt so invasive. The contents were unknown, and she wasn't really hoping for Boone's demise anytime soon, so when would she ever get the chance to find out? Maybe she wouldn't ever.

Hell, this was terrible. She was so going to lose karma for this.

Quietly and carefully, she fixed the paper that had been mercilessly wounded by her hand, and placed it in her lap, angling it towards the fire so she could capture some of the light. Heart thudding lightly, she began to read its contents.

Courier,

If you're reading this, I'm dead. If not, you better do a damn good job at making it look like you didn't read this.

Oh, God, how did he know? She didn't know whether to laugh or cry in fear.

Want to apologize for leaving. You weren't as enthusiastic about my re-enlistment as you tried to look, sorry to tell you, but you have the rest of the team there. They're a good team. You're a good leader.

Leave it to Boone to be the one that sees past her speech disguises, silver tongue tendencies, and persuasion techniques. The paper started shaking. The courier looked away from it and towards Boone, instead. She was the one shaking, not the paper. She shook her head to discard the emotion and sucked in some air.

Wish I was with you again, sometimes. You always said snipers worked best in pairs. Watched your back, you watched mine. You took us past that and showed me that my life wasn't a punishment. Grateful for that.

He wasn't a guy for words, and as simple as this was, the courier couldn't help but smile sadly.

Can't stand the thought of losing you. Maybe that's part of why I left. Didn't want you to think that you were just a replacement for Carla. Didn't feel like I deserved you. As a partner or anything more. Didn't want my feelings to be a burden to you.

"Feelings?" she said aloud, eyes wide with surprise. Boone had feelings for her?

Miss you. Don't do anything too stupid.

Boone

What a typical ending for him. It was perfect. … Perfectly unacceptable for her to be reading this. This was private, personal … only to be read if he was gone. If he found out that she had taken a peek at this while he was still kicking ... They haven't really been in this situation before. If he had feelings for her, he wouldn't get mad, right?

No, she knew him well enough. He'd probably feel betrayed.

She tucked the letter back into the armor for now and sighed heavily. Ignoring the incoming shitstorm and guilt she was likely to feel tomorrow morning, she had to feel flattered, if not relieved. She'd fallen in love with that guy ages ago, and to see that he was capable of reciprocating … she didn't feel so alone.

"Rise 'n' shine, Boone," Robertson chimed early in the morning, waking the slumbering sniper from his sleep. The soldier watched as Boone grunted awake. He looked around immediately, and his purpose wasn't to find his armor, but a certain woman. "Don't worry, the courier's still here. She is about to leave soon, however. Might wanna freshen up a bit."

The other male mumbled something inaudible and wandered away to a tent after yanking up his armor and such.

"Heya, just on time, Cour!" Robertson called upon seeing the NCR Ranger combat armor come into view. She had been climbing around the mountains, and if not for his ankle issue, he wouldn't have been impressed by her deftness and ability to maneuver through them without so much as a flinch. Before she could ask what she was on time for, he continued, "So, you really gotta leave, huh? I'm sure the general would be more than happy to give you some of the medical supplies we find." Or even join their unit, but everybody knew that was out of the question. Anybody would give anything to have her on their team. Boone was a lucky bastard to have had an adventure with her.

"Yeah, I should really get on the move again. Maybe head back to the Strip and check in on things." A few of the other soldiers started to gather around, the general at the forefront. She pulled off her helmet and gazed among the crowd, no first recon beret in sight.

Robertson noted this immediately and slipped past everybody (not so stealthy considering his hobble) and towards the tent Boone had vanished off to. He knew that he was just about finished with cleaning himself up, even bothered to take a straight razor and clear up that stubble, so he pulled him by the arm towards the flap leading outside.

"Hey, what are you-" he protested grumpily.

"Shh, don't you want to say goodbye? You of all people should know that she's not one for sticking around in one place for so long." He pushed Boone gently to the courier and watched her face light up significantly.

She gestured for him to come closer, and he did as told.

"Boone? Last night I read the letter that was in your armor." Robertson's eyebrows shot up in surprise. How upfront and honest. Though that wasn't too much of a shocker.

Her old companion stared at her for a long moment before registering exactly what she said. "You mean my—you did what-?"

His words were drown out with a well-placed kiss on his lips, a passionate yet simple interruption from the woman. Her arms were tucked behind her as they held onto her helmet, and she had to stand up a bit taller to reach, but she had made her mark like a true sniper.

Boone's arms were frozen mid-air, unsure what to do with them. Poor guy looked like his brain was frying from an overload.

She broke away first and wasn't sure if his lack of reaction was good or bad. "Well, I'm off. Check the note again, will you? I added a little note of my own," she informed him quietly, so the majority of the soldiers couldn't here. They were already talking amongst themselves about how lucky Boone was to score with the great savior of the Mojave.

And in just a moment she was out of sight and somewhere past the mountains. It took Robertson a second to formulate the strained question, "Wait a minute, you're not going after her?"

"No. Not yet," he replied in his usual stoic manner, something that Robertson had to roll his eyes at. "You don't know her like I do. She'll want me to come up with something creative."

That should have been a task that was a drag. However, if anything, Boone sounded … amused. Pleased. Hell if he knew, that guy was somethin' else.

Boone pulled out his signature sunglasses from his pocket and slid them on his face. "Come on, we're burning daylight. We've got a mission to complete."