Sinclair couldn't say that his sister's reaction surprised him. He had left her behind, but it wasn't because he'd wanted to, and it wasn't as if he'd left her passed out in a gas station bathroom somewhere. After that very long and difficult year they spent together braving the wastes, he finally managed to find his sister a good home, with a good family that could care for her in the right way. And he would have stayed. It felt like he was leaving half of himself behind that night, but supporting a family in this shithole of a world was already difficult enough. They didn't need the burden of two mouths to feed. If he left, their lives would be that much easier.

It hadn't exactly been a picnic either. He'd been twenty years old and never more alone, and the Mojave stared him down, shook his reserve with her uninhabitable deserts and her merciless, rabid children. It was a miracle he'd made it to the Strip on his own, but he walked away all the stronger for it. After such a cruel initiation into adulthood, he found a much more welcoming home among the lights and the glamour, where he realized his easy smile and his smooth voice and his charming wit were tools just as valuable as the guns that had kept him alive in the wastes. Eight long years, he had toiled and persuaded and fought to get to this point.

So, no, he was most certainly not planning on leaving and never coming back.

"I'm afraid not, baby sister," he informed Niella with a careless shrug, as if there was really nothing she could do about it. "Once was enough for me. I don't intend to leave this . . . charming place without you. Whether that's walking at my side or thrown over my shoulder, I don't much care. That part's really up to you."

He could see shock temporarily erase the anger from the lines of her face, and it was like this, her eyes the size of the moon, lips parted in delicate surprise, that he began to recognize his little sister in the strange woman that stood before him. It was a relief to see that girl he once knew was still in there somewhere.

Far too long had passed since Niella had found herself looking into those eyes last. She was tall, taller than most other female Khans, and yet her brother had always been taller, and that sapphire gaze on her was like a fissure in time. She was abruptly once more a little girl, hiding beneath her brother's arms on the cold, splintered floorboards as a dust storm howled by outside, clawing at the walls and shutters. She was sobbing on the bedroom floor before him as he ripped one of their mother's lovers off of her, twisting his neck between his hands, and taking his first life that night. She was sprinting as fast as her legs could carry her despite how her feet sank into the sand, her brother close behind her, shouting for her to run as the hiss of radscorpions sounded behind them.

Those blue eyes they shared had seen many horrible things together, and now, after so long apart, the reigniting of that bond left her feeling simultaneously helpless and yet very safe, ice cold and burning heat. It was a strange combination, and the fact that he was subjecting her to this emotional torment after so long was infuriating. She wanted to scream her voice raw, wanted to push and punch and fight until she felt nothing anymore, just like she had been doing for so long now. She wanted to run, and keep running, until her muscles shrieked in protest and she collapsed into the dirt. And yet. . . .

The strange woman that had accompanied her brother was getting up now, watching her from the middle of the arena. Niella wondered if she had ever met this woman in the past; her swollen, bruised face made potentially recognizing her impossible, though Niella had never been good with faces anyways. The larger ghoul helped the woman to her feet, where she momentarily swayed before setting her shoulders and limping closer. Niella scanned the smaller woman, searching desperately for any sort of clue as to who she was or what the hell she wanted with her.

Her one still good eye shone deep blue pansy as it fixed upon Niella. The parts of her face that remained untouched were bronzed from the Mojave sun, and blotches of red on her high cheekbones indicated she had a hard time protecting her pale skin from the harsh UV rays. Dark hair was pulled back from her face in a tight bun, almost military it seemed, but the red polish that stained her fingernails stated otherwise. She was nearly dwarfed in size by the ghoul lurking behind her, yet she didn't seem wary of him - quite the opposite. Long, thin fingers brushed his knuckles as if taking comfort from the brief touch. Her leather armor was dirty and creased, but the blade at her hip was spotless, impeccably cared for. The woman drew herself up as well as she could with her injuries and turned to spear Sinclair with a scowl over her shoulder.

Everything about her was confusing. But what she said next was even more so.

"Shut up."

She said it curtly, as if he were an annoying child, not a full-grown man bringing a storm of chaos back into Niella's otherwise simple life. A shadow of anger passed over her brother's face before his gaze flickered to Niella, irritatingly watching her expression for her reaction. She pointedly ignored him.

The little woman turned back to Niella and appealed to her - she couldn't fucking believe it - with a wide smile. It looked like it caused her pain to twist her injured face around, but it appeared no less genuine for it. "I know I didn't get to finish getting my ass kicked by your friend. Thanks for that, by the way," she added to Melissa, who was lurking curiously off to the side. "But I'm willing to let her beat on me for a few more minutes if that'll earn me a moment of your time."

Her tone was light, almost playful, but she let the words stand as they were, and Niella realized she was entirely serious. If she wished, the woman would throw herself back into the arena at Melissa's mercy. Melissa had really done a number on her, and yet she would subject herself to it again just so speak with her. That was . . . interesting. And unsettling.

"Red?" Regis' voice, that low gravelly rumble somewhere close behind her. "Do you want me to take care of them?" A threat was strung like wire in the undercurrent of his voice.

"No." The word came out before she even really considered it, though as she spoke it she knew she believed it. "No, I can handle them."

His responding anger was like heat at her back, but that wasn't her problem. If he wanted to get all upset and flustered, that was his prerogative. She wasn't going to let it change her mind, though.

"I think . . . I think that you have done enough," she decided slowly. "You fought like one of us. That's . . . admirable. I will hear you out."

A smile overtook the strange woman's face, like the sun emerging from behind storm clouds. It was as if Niella had just given her the best gift she'd ever received. "Thank you," she breathed with relief in her voice. "Thank you so much."

Niella noticed now all of her fellow Khans, nosily bunched around the small group they had formed, looking on with no attempt to hide their curiosity and, in some cases, their distrust. "You can all go now," she told them icily. "The spectacle is over."

A murmur of protest went through the group, but Melissa, confident that Niella was not in any danger, started shooing them away. "You heard the lady, show's over. She's got everything under control." Her dark hand found Regis' shoulder, attempting to pull from Niella's side. He shrugged her violently off, but acquiesced and strode angrily away.

"This isn't the place to talk," Niella said, drawing the woman's attention back to her. She'd been eyeing their little family in interest, Melissa in particular. "We can go to my tent."

The stranger took a large pack from the ghoul and slung it onto her shoulder. "Please, lead the way."

Masnie made as if to follow them and Niella hissed furiously. "I didn't see you fighting in that arena," she bit out. "You will not be joining us."

"That would have hardly been a fair fight," he protested.

"You're lucky I don't make you wait outside the canyon with the radscorpions. It's been eight years. You can wait a little longer."

The woman made a small choked sound and pressed her lips together. Niella realized she was stifling laughter. She immediately felt a little warmer toward her. The woman's expression smoothed over and she gestured for Niella to lead her. "Just us girls, then. That's fine with me."

Papa Khan could sense the anger emanating off of Regis before he even drew near. The dust kicked up around his boots as he approached and the swing of his arms was aggressive, tense. The boy was smart, and strong, but that temper of his had always been too intense for him to handle properly.

"How did it go?" he asked the younger Khan, though he very well knew the answer already.

"She's a goddamn idiot," Regis spat. "She's too trusting."

"I would hardly call Red 'trusting,'" Papa Khan countered calmly. "In fact, I always thought she was rather discerning. Thinks before she speaks. It's one of the things I love about her."

The even tones of Papa Khan's voice seemed to be disabling Regis' anger. He sighed heavily, the tension easing out of his shoulders. "You remember how we found her," he said darkly. "What kind of brother lets her get that way and shows up again almost ten years later like nothing happened?"

"Ah, that's her brother, then" Papa Khan murmured thoughtfully, a big hand stroking his great beard. "Well, she doesn't seem to forgive him by any means."

"No, she was more interested in that girl who tangled with Melissa."

"I'd be interested in any woman willing to fight Melissa," Papa Khan chuckled as an afterthought. His laughter faded and he regarded his right-hand man more seriously. "Red has always been the type to sort through these things herself. I trust her to know what she can handle, and when to ask for help."

"I trust her just fine," Regis agreed. "It's him I don't trust. He's got this . . . this darkness. I don't know how else to describe it. Some kind of darkness that we could lose her in."

"She came from that darkness, my son. I think she'll know the way."

Leah was startled to finally see the Courier's sister. She blamed it somewhat on her romantic side, but she'd been expecting a sweet little thing, golden curls and a girlish wonder in those pretty blue eyes. Instead she got this woman who looked lost in her own body, face thin and scarred, her red hair carelessly chopped out of the way. She was taller than Leah, her body wrapped with a layer of lean, hardened muscle, and though she could tell from the shape of her face and the elegant structure of her bones that the girl had once been beautiful, there was only a shadow of that woman left in the one who was leading her to a tent on the edge of the canyon. There was a certain defiance about her that Leah admired, as if she expected the universe to come down around her at any moment and each step was her way of daring it to try.

"I don't know why you bothered," Niella was saying as she ducked under the tent flap. "No one ever fought any battles to hear what I have to say."

Leah followed her into the tent, sighing in relief as she finally escaped the sun. "I'm happy to be the first."

The Courier's sister stared at her as if sizing her up. Leah allowed her that. She didn't seem threatened by her, at least, but Leah didn't think anyone would be scared of her in her current state. Niella sat with her legs crossed, the coppery dust of Red Rock Canyon clinging to her skin. She didn't seem to notice it.

Leah attempted to follow suit but was met with some resistance from her battered limbs. She winced in embarrassment. "Will that fight still count if I heal my injuries?"

Niella simply waved a hand, still watching her with that unwavering, curious stare.

The Lone Wanderer fished a few stimpaks from her bag and began applying them. The swelling in her face receded and her aching limbs found relief, allowing her to sit down opposite Niella and finally focus on what she was going to say to bring the girl around, instead of struggling to stay up on her feet. She'd been through worse, but she certainly wasn't at her most convincing with half of her face so swollen she couldn't see.

"That's better," she sighed, stretching out her arms and shoulders. "Now. Do you prefer Red? Or can I call you Niella?"

Red brows furrowed above her eyes. She seemed surprised she'd even asked. "I guess . . . I guess Niella's fine." Her eyes finally drifted away from Leah and stared out of the crack between the tent flaps. "The name didn't feel like it fit here, with all the Khans always around me. I never have a moment to myself."

"I know the feeling," Leah agreed. "I spent nineteen years in a vault. Privacy was hard to come by. 'Alone' doesn't have to be bad."

"Hmm," was all she replied.

"My name is Leah," she introduced herself. She extended a hand and, slowly, Niella shook it. "The big guy outside is Charon, and Desmond's the one in the glasses. We've traveled quite the distance to get here."

"Just to find me?" The briefest shadow of confusion crossed Niella's face.

"No," Leah laughed. "No, don't worry. I didn't know who you were until we found Sinclair. We came looking for the Brotherhood of Steel."

The Courier's sister thought that over for a while. "Okay. What does that have to do with me?"

Leah heaved a sigh. "Well, the Brotherhood disappeared a while back, and they're tough to find. We needed help from someone who knew the Mojave well. That person ended up being your brother. But, as you probably could have guessed, he wasn't going to help us out for free. He needed help with something, too."

Niella waited, looking frustrated. "And . . . ?"

"He needed help finding you."

A frown twisted Niella's mouth downward and she snorted derisively. "You shouldn't have bothered."

"I know you're probably pretty pissed at him. I understand." Her voice grew quiet. "I mentioned earlier I grew up in a vault. My dad snuck me in when I was just an infant. He raised me in that shithole until one morning, I woke up and he was gone. No goodbye note, no 'seeya later, good luck, kid,' he was just gone. The overseer was so furious, he had me chased out at gunpoint. I stumbled out into the wastes and to this day, I don't know how I survived. I couldn't understand why he would leave. Maybe he was tired of being a father. Maybe I reminded him too much of my dead mother - my life meant her death, after all. Maybe it was just fatherly obligation keeping him there all those years."

Niella listened silently, no emotional reaction evident in her closed-off expression.

Leah was just happy she was listening. Her sunburnt cheeks blushed even redder with shame. She told Niella how she had finally found her father, after waiting over a year to start looking, and that if she hadn't come along it was possible he might never have been found. She spoke of their emotional reunion, how the look on his face when he saw her had erased all of the doubts, all of the nights spent awake cursing him for leaving her behind. She described their last days together, working tirelessly to finish Project Purity.

"With our help, my dad was able to bring fresh water to the capital wasteland. His work will save lives. Children can drink water without having to take a Rad-X first. That was the reason he left - he had to finish his work. They will remember my father for what he did." A sad smile touched her lips and she looked down at the bronze dirt caked on her boots. "He died protecting his work."

"I'm sorry," Niella offered unexpectedly, drawing Leah's gaze back up to her.

"Me, too," Leah agreed with a slow nod. "I can only hope for such a noble death. My dad died protecting something he loved and believed in. I'm not saying we have gone through the same experience, Niella. I guess I'm not even trying to compare the two. Every person lives their own unique hell in the wastes. I'm just trying to say, from what little I've seen of the Mojave since I've arrived here, it seems like your brother is really trying to make a change for the better, and any idiot with half a brain can see that he's doing it for you."

Niella's face immediately shut down like a brick wall. It was a habit that looked well-practiced, clamping down emotion and shutting it out. Leah understood that well enough. Charon was a master of it. It was a defense mechanism. It was survival.

"That doesn't mean you owe him anything," Leah added quickly. "I don't know the Sinclair that you grew up with. I hardly know the Sinclair that's standing out there in the sun right now. But I like to think I'm a decent judge of character. And it really seems like he misses you. He's so snarky and deflective and sarcastic, but I wish you could have heard him talk about you. It was a side of him I didn't know existed that spoke to us that night."

Niella leaned her cheek against her knees, her eyes unseeing. Leah wondered what memories were going through her mind. "You really meant it when you said you wanted to talk," the girl noted dryly.

Leah laughed. "Yeah, I wasn't kidding. I thought for a while about what I was going to say to you, though, and I meant every word."

Niella cleared her throat, lifting her head. "Why do you want to find the Brotherhood?"

"The Brotherhood of Steel helped me and my father get Project Purity running. They protected it at immense costs. I've fought with them, bled with them. They are doing their best to make sense of the chaos. I want to help."

"You help a lot of people."

Another laugh. "Yeah, that's kind of my thing. Charon says my compassion will be the death of me some day. I'd like to see something make it past him to get to me, though."

Niella placed her hands flat against the dirt and pushed herself up to her feet. Leah scrambled to do the same.

"You've made your case," the Khan said carefully, her face set in grim determination. "I admire how hard you must have fought. By the state Melissa was in, she wasn't the only one to do some damage. Because of this, and . . . what you've told me about your life . . . I will speak to Masnie." She said the name hesitantly, as if unsure how it would sound coming out of her mouth again.

"Thank you," Leah blurted out in relief. "Seriously, thank you. I can't begin to understand how you must feel seeing him again. But I hope speaking to him, even if . . . even if things don't work out, will bring you some sort of closure." She brushed the dust from her armor and lifted the tent flap, squinting into the bright sunshine. "Do you want me to send him in?"

Niella nodded, trying to look confident, but Leah saw the uncertainty in her eyes.

"Well, this is going swimmingly, isn't it?"

"Shut the fuck up, Lockheart."

"What, am I the only one who feels like a damn idiot standing out here while they have gossip time?"

Charon pinched the bridge of his nose, exhaling a tired sigh. "Every time you speak I feel like a damn idiot. There's nothing to do but wait."

"There she is," Sinclair hissed, the first time he'd spoken since Leah and his sister disappeared. Leah emerged from the tent in the distance, her eyes assaulted by the harsh sun. She made her way down the path toward them, looking thoughtful.

"How did it go?" the Courier demanded. "Thanks for throwing me out to sea back there, by the way."

"Yeah, exactly like you did to me," she retorted angrily.

"At least I taught you how to swim first."

She rolled her eyes. "You're lucky I talked her down. She's willing to hear you out. Don't fuck this up." She poked a finger into the shoulder of his armor, probably spraining it. "This might be the only chance we get."

The irritation left his face, replaced with a very uncharacteristic uncertainty. It was almost identical to the expression she'd seen moments earlier on his sister's face. "Yeah," he said simply, before turning and walking the way she had come.

"You look better," Charon rasped, and Leah smiled up at him.

"Feelin' a little better, too. I'll be all good once we're back home and I can wash off all this dirt, which has found its way into places you wouldn't even believe."

"Hey," a voice called, and they turned to see Melissa, who was also in a much better state now. "I think you've earned yourself a drink, outsider. You guys can come wait in the longhouse, if you'd like. You look ridiculous standing out here."

Leah glanced up at Niella's tent, where Sinclair was just disappearing beneath the flap. "I suppose they might be a while."

"I'll do anything to get away from this bloody sun," Desmond remarked.

"Worried you'll get too much color, Lockheart?" Leah teased.

"God forbid I ruin my perfect tan."

The three followed Melissa toward the largest tent in the canyon. She gestured them inside and they trailed in, Leah pausing at the entrance to stare up at Niella's tent.

"Good luck, Sinclair," she muttered under her breath.

Melissa hummed in agreement. "Knowing Red . . . He's going to need it."