Pleasure and Pain

Chapter 2

Sleep. It should've been a peaceful thing to look forward to, but not for Lucy. Not for a person who suffered from a goddamn bullet wound, who had to suffer through the hell of fever, and on top of that, having to bear with the temperature of the Mojave desert. It made her feel like a limp bag of body and bones. Useless. Time wasting. In her sleep, every second felt like torture, due to the lack of hydration and the lack of reality; nightmares would pester her everytime she wanted to attempt to have a rest. Boone ended up waking her most of the times, wanting to shake her, but having to keep in mind not to touch the fragile skin around the wound.

"Lucy!"

"Jesus, what?!"

".. You were at it again.. "

The weakened expression still hadn't left. Lucy's eyes had a tiresome glance in them. Her face was sweaty and pale, what once used to be a beautiful olive skinned beauty. Her companion would often tease her by calling her "the Pocahontas of the Mojave". She had no idea who the hell that was, but apparently it used to be a pre-war heroine, a long time ago.

Boone was biting his lower lip. Turning around, he pushed two mentats in her hands. "Here. Makes you feel better."

Makes you feel better. A promise that sounded useless to her. She wanted to be better, instead of living the illusion that she'd 'feel' better. Nevertheless, Lucy placed both mentats on her tongue and swallowed them, followed by a gulp of purified water that Boone had managed to get his hands on during a supply run. Lucy ran a hand through her chocolate brown locks and gasped. "I need to go down to the river. I'm filthy as fuck."

Boone sighed, rolling his eyes at the blunt statement. "Fine." he agreed, helping her up from the bedroll.

He accompanied her, as she limped her way downhills. Boone made sure Lucy wouldn't screw up her remaining balance and roll all the way down by walking backwards in front of her, whilst holding her upperarms with his hands.

After a few long minutes, they reached an open spot by the river. Boone made sure no mirelurks were walking around. When he was satisfied enough, he nodded at Lucy and traced back his steps until he was out of hearing sight. Turning around, he unfolded a map out of his backpocket and focused his attention on the piece of paper.

Lucy sighed, grateful for the temporarily privacy. She started unstrapping her dirty wasteland clothes, which Boone had given her, because her armor was too tight for her wound. Plus, it was too hot, and they didn't want to risk holding the fever on willingly.

When her legs touched the refreshing, cold water, she let out a gasp of relief. There was a brief shocky tingle at first, and she knew it must be either the cold or radiation, but she was too content to give a fuck. She dipped her entire body into the waters, but careful not to rub too much of the irradiated liquid into the wound.

As soon as she was done, she stepped out of the river and tip-toed on the sand. Realizing she hadn't brought something to wrap herself into, she rolled her eyes at her own stupidity. The last thing she wanted, was to wear those wasteland rags again that she'd been sweating in for days.

"Boone!"

"What?!"

"I'm finished!"

"You decent?!"

"I'm never decent, you twat! And I didn't bring any spare clothes with me!"

A short silence. After a while, Lucy could hear him curse at the other side.

"Hold the fuck up. I'll be back in a sec!"

Lucy sighed as she rolled her eyes once more. She watched Boone run up the hill as if he was on fire. Anything to not make this uncomfortable. This was a silent agreement between the two of them; things weren't awkward. Things were never awkward. But they'd never had to take care of each other like this ever before.

Just for a while, Lucy encouraged herself. Just until you've completely healed.

She sat down beside a large rock, as a lousy attempt to stay cool in its shadow. Even though it was just seconds when he'd left to get her a new set of clothes, it felt like an eternity already. Lucy had terrible patience.

A rustling noise in the distance caught her attention. She ducked behind the rock, an instinctive reaction, as she waited on for any continuing noise. It was all a routine; simply wait for the confirmation about whether she'd truly heard something or not. Perhaps she was getting dellusional. No wasteland survivor would blame her for that. Paranoid was easy to get in these circumstances, where everything envolved about making it through another damn day.

But she heard it again. Human noises, this time. Lucy was sure they wouldn't see her; the noise came from up the valley of where the river was located. It'd take them ages to get to her, but they could still shoot her.

Voices. Lucy moved her head a bit, and peeked.

Caesar's legion.

Assassin's.

"Fuck me." she whispered, instantly going back into hiding position. Her thoughts automatically began to ponder the possibility of simply running away, but then she'd give practially hand over her location of hiding. She just hoped Boone wasn't stupid enough to simply walk himself into a firefight, but she doubted that would happen; Boone was cautious. Too fucking cautious for his own good. Which proved to be a rather useful trait, in situations like this one.

And so she waited. What felt to her like another eternity, against her own liking. If only she was wearing her armor and had her double barrel shotgun, and hadn't been shot, she would kick those pieces of utter crap a little payback up their asses. But there was no way in hell she, or they, would survive this if they spotted her.

The noises and echoes died away after a good while, and Lucy looked up from behind the rock to confirm that thought.

They were gone. For now.