The Courier practically yanked the makeshift door away from the log cabin as he entered it. He then slammed it shut and took off his numerous bags, tossing them into one of the corners of the tiny home.

The darkness inside didn’t matter thanks to the helmet, though it was blacker than pitch because night had settled over Equestria by this point.

His mind was rushing with what Elijah must’ve felt whenever he realized his entrapment back in that damned vault.

Twilight’s words rang through in his skull, but instead of a kind ruler explaining to him, it seemed to take on the nature of a vindictive bitch.

“No way home,” she spat, her tone aggressive.

He clutched at his head as it ached, feeling as if it would begin to throb at any moment.

“Stuck here forever,” she seemed to laugh.

He growled, pulling at his helmet.

“You still have us!” the soft, caring tone of the others rang out. A cacophony of Rainbow Dash, Pinkie Pie, Rarity, Applejack, and Fluttershy.

That made him tug at it harder, ripping the riot helmet off, his vision disappearing in the darkness before he turned the helmet back towards him.

It looked into his eyes as he stared into its red, glowing lenses.

He threw the fucker into the makeshift cabin wall that was less than a foot in front of him. Despite it being his face, he needed to be away from it for the moment.

He sat silently contemplating for a little while.

A few minutes later, he pulled out the Ranger Sequoia, and clicked back the hammer with his thumb. Looked over the firearm. His eyes worked in the dark well enough to see it in full detail.

Want a way out? Do it, you fucking pussy! A piece of him growled deep inside.

No. Fuck you! The other pieces ROARED back.

He audibly growled, tossing the ornate revolver to the side without any more thought to it. Not the way to get through this. Instead, he just looked down at his fallen helmet.

“You still have us,” the group whispered in his mind.

He almost smiled, cracking into maddened laughs at that. He stopped himself suddenly after only a few seconds.

He wanted the walls gone, just for a little while.

He refused it.

Let them know what you truly think. Admit it. No reason to be alone.

Gotta let it out, let them know. Be honest with them.

No. Later, maybe.

He grunted.

It was the tiredness. It was closing in, making him rash, animalistic. Monstrous.

Fucking damn it. Almost an entire month, barely any sleep.

He’d done it before, but this… nowhere to go. Nowhere to strive for at the moment. Just preoccupying himself with work.

He loved it.

Being useful.

Being useful for them.

Doing something.

Doing something for them.

He liked them.

He hated that he liked them.

Why did he have to like them? Why couldn’t it just be easy? Why can’t they be hateful, and disgusted by him?

Let him remain alone. Let him be in silence.

His eyes were heavy.

He leaned back into the makeshift padding he called a bed. He couldn’t fight it.

He wanted to. He’d force himself to…

…

You know what?

No.

He allowed his eyelids to close, and not more than a minute later, he was out.

No different from someone flipping a lightswitch.

By the time the dream formed, he was already in the metal box.

Helmet was back on too. Good.

Same poker table, same floating brain.

“Are we sure about this?” the Brain asked. Its tone wasn’t the typical jovial or comedic one. It was quiet, morose almost. Dead serious.

“We’re both sick of hiding,” the human growled back at his mind.

“Of course we are, but shouldn’t we wai-”

“Not anymore, we’re sick of waiting,” he countered definitively.

“Sure we shouldn’t play just one more game of Poker?” the Brain snarked.

He growled.

The Brain chuckled.

“You know what to do,” Six said.

“Right, hide away and be your ace-in-the-hole in case anything goes south,” the Brain iterated his thoughts out loud, before saluting the body with its stem. “Goodluck, me.”

The Courier nodded quietly.

The Brain disappeared, and seconds later the walls fell, and blackness took hold not long after that.

He growled at it as it coated everything around him.

It shrunk back at that. Honest to God, he saw it cower backwards for a moment. As if it felt his animosity, his hate.

The human continued to glare at it, his red eyes piercing the darkness like a pair of bullet holes as it surrounded him.

Soon enough though, it slowly broke away. The darkness seemed to dissolve before him.

He stepped back cautiously at that, raising his fists as if he expected an attack.

Suddenly though, it faded further. The darkness became less restless, and the wiggling seemed to stop. Everything became almost peaceful...

And then she appeared.

He had an air of confusion as she faded in from the nothingness.

A pair of wings, a long, regal horn, a coat as black as the night. Wait wait… he recognized her. She was on one of the glass windows back at the castle.

“Y-you’re…” he scanned his brain for the name, “Luna…”

“And you’re the creature I’ve been attempting to contact for the past few weeks now,” she said back, her tone deep, regal.

“That’s a funny way of saying you dropped a moon on me,” he growled.

“I do apologize for all of these terrible dreams you’ve had recently,” she said with a genuine frown. “Your mind is… not quite like any I’ve seen, at least not in a long while. It’s hard to navigate, fractured almost. As if it was damaged somehow.”

“Tell me about it,” he said, his tone raspy. “Are you going to leave me alone now? Let me rest?”

“I am unsure how much you know about me, but I will reveal my intentions now,” she said, before clearing her throat. “I used to be one of the co-rulers of Equestria, but after my sister and I abdicated from the throne, Twilight Sparkle now presides over our duties.”

“Yeah I heard all that. Why are you in my head?” he growled.

“There are several reasons for that,” she said, almost sheepishly. “One is that I still have a natural magical connection with dreams, and given my new-found free time, there is little else to do. I figured I’d lighten Twilight’s duties by presiding over the dreamscape while she rules the waking world.”

“Still doesn’t answer my question,” he pointed out.

“I felt your dream when you first arrived here,” she admitted. “It was… very strange, different from the ones natural to Equestria. I still remember you eating a putrid meal made from… rats, was it?”

“Mole rats,” he corrected, as if it was any better. “That still doesn’t answer why you kept coming back.”

“You have an air of darkness within your mind,” Luna sighed. “I wanted to examine it, perhaps even guard it from allowing anything else to take hold.”

“You’re telling me other things can invade my head?” he hissed.

“I am only taking precautions!” she defended. “But… yes. You being an outsider to these lands, I was unsure as to what could happen to your dreams and above that, your mind if something ever breached them.”

“So you just bathed me in darkness the whole time?” the human responded, his tone obviously one of anger and frustration.

“I was going to explain my intentions to you in time, but you seem to be an insomniac, and when you did dream… something strange blocked me out,” Luna admitted. “It feels as if there’s more than one consciousness inside of your dreams. I’ve never seen anything like that before, not in a single creature anyways.”

“I guess schizophrenia and split personalities aren’t common here?” he said, being snarky despite his anger.

Luna frowned at that.

“My expertise does not cover medical terms,” she admitted. “Whatever you have isn’t common is all I can say.”

“So you just wanted to warn me, that’s it huh?” he said, his body tense.

“That and I desired to get to know you,” admitted Luna. “I have access to the dreams of all of my former subjects. I recall dear Scootaloo’s nightmares have taken a brighter turn every time she thinks of you or Rainbow Dash, at least.”

“What do you know about the kid?” he growled, almost protectively.

“I occasionally helped her and her friend group banish dark dreams and self-doubts years ago,” the former princess explained, “They have all matured greatly since then, but I still occasionally make sure she’s not having any issues while asleep.”

Six’s tenseness melted back a bit and he nodded.

“Well, what do you want now that we’ve got… all of this out of the way?” he growled.

“I would hope we could become friends, if you desire?” the regal mare offered with a smile. “Even though I am no longer the princess of Equestria, I still desire the best for any of its new subjects.”

“Friends!?!” his tone was manic, as if on the verge of cracking. “Friends? Friends! FRIENDS!”

Luna stepped back at that.

“That’s all I fucking hear. Friends this! Friends that!” he hissed, clawing at his helmet.

Luna watched as he peeled it away, ripping it from his head as it squirmed within his grasp. It was as if the metal alloys had become organic, with it wiggling around like tendons as he tore it away.

However, her face soon took on a tone of shock when what lay underneath was just another exact replica of the riot helmet. It was his true face, one could say.

He threw the first one aside, as if he needed to toss something to get his frustrations out.

“I’m stuck here! No way back home! No use! No way to wander! And all I get is a bunch of fuckin- fucking cakes and sprinkles and candy and happy thoughts from a bunch of children’s toys who don’t know what it’s like!” he ranted, his chest heaving. “I don’t even know them and they jus- they just accept me, like there’s nothing wrong! Instead, they should just leave me alone!”

She frowned sadly at that.

“To be overlooked and forgotten is nothing to be envious of,” she said, her tone one of calmness, understanding. “For others to be frightened away by your appearance is a tragedy I am familiar with.”

“It’s not just my appearance, gah- fuck!” he growled, his fists clenching so hard blood pooled from his hands. “It’s th- the fucking shit I’ve done, alright!”

He glared back into her, his red, emotionless lenses staring back at her expressive eyes.

“I’ve fucking killed people, alright! A lot, a lot of people!” he admitted, his tone one of fury. “Not just monsters. People. Ones who talked. Who had lives…”

He inhaled deeply through his teeth, pausing.

“...I don’t regret it,” he admitted.

Her frown remained.

“They deserved it as far as I’m concerned,” he continued, pacing around as an invisible wind picked up, making his duster billow in the dream. “But that’s not common here is it? War, death, killing. The need to survive. To eat fucking roaches and maggots not knowing if you’re getting anything else tomorrow.”

She listened to his ramblings in silence. He leaned in, his cold mask just inches from her muzzle.

“I DON’T belong here,” he concluded. “Around them; they’d hate me if they knew. They’d call me a monster. Honestly, they’re right. Wouldn’t blame them. But…”

He stopped, giving a deep sigh.

“You are not a monster,” Luna replied, her stern, calming voice echoing around him.

“You just fucking MET ME!” he said, looking around as if he was trying to find something else to throw in his continuous fit of rage. “Every Goddamn time, they just buddy up and act like everything’s hunky-fucking dory!”

“You are the one who pushes them away, it seems,” she stated simply. “They just genuinely seem to desire what’s best for you.”

“What’s best for me is a long stretch of desert and a loaded gun,” he spat back.

“Why do you push away their help so much?” she asked.

“I didn’t need it back in the Mojave,” he growled.

“What about that blue creature? The muscular one I saw in your first dream?” she replied.

“Who? You mean Lily?” he said, shocked out of his stupor at the mention of an old, pleasant friend.

“Yes, you obviously had a great deal of emotions for her… enough to have a picnic with her, anyways,” said Luna, managing a soft chuckle.

“I-... sh-she’s…” he huffed, his tone slightly softer. “She went her own way. Left to go find her grandkids. Her real family… People she actually belonged with.”

“Was she the only one?” Luna asked back.

“No,” he answered, but didn’t elaborate.

“Did they care for you too?” she asked once more.

“They did,” Six said, before he held up a finger, making sure she wouldn’t cut him off, “but they went their own ways as well… We had a thing, wandered together for a good while, but when duty called, they knew where they were needed. It wasn’t by my side.”

She was silent for a moment, he felt a sense of understanding echo around him, as it seemed like Luna had become the very essence of blackness surrounding him.

“I liked it like that… We understood each other,” he said, looking down.

“Would you allow me to understand you?” she questioned, her tone soft and matronly and wise, like that of a queen.

Made sense.

He looked up at her, giving a laugh. A deep, visceral, belly laugh. Suddenly though, in the middle of his hearty heaving, he stopped on a dime. His red lenses glared into her eyes.

“What would you know? About suffering?” he said, tone deep, cold.

She stared back with a determined, righteous glare.

“More than you would think,” she replied, her tone serious.

He was silent at that, looking into her eyes.

She just stared back.

He finally lost his tenseness, and then nodded.

Felt an air of… something about her.

Something old.

Something ancient.

Something… that might get it. Unlike the others.

“Alright,” he said casually, giving in with a sigh.

All at once, the blackness enveloped Luna.

The moon was full.

That was the first thing Luna noticed as her vision slowly came back from a darkened blur.

She looked around herself, trying to clear her eyes as she began to take in the sights. This place was different. Still in his dream obviously, but for once, the Courier had taken control of it.

Luna realized she was in a desert.

She was currently on top of a large hill, and below she saw a small village, filled with only a few dozen houses. It reminded her of the towns of Appleloosa and Dodge Junction. A nice, quiet, quaint little town, no doubt.

To contrast this though, off in the distance she could see a large, lit up city that had several massive looking buildings that stretched into the sky. It was a far cry from the relatively flat surroundings of sand and rock and little else. Almost reminded the princess of Las Pegasus in a way. Big, loud, bright, and bold. She never was a fan of a city that never slept.

The sound of someone stepping on dirt behind her made her turn, her horn alight, ready to defend herself. Her magic’s glow and a small lantern nearby were all that allowed her to see the scene properly.

She remained tense as she could see about half a dozen distinctive figures. None seemed to notice her for the moment though. They were all bipedal, like that of the Courier.

Humans.

Most of them had on what looked to be leather attire, almost like that of the rising punk fashion the princess had occasionally read about and seen in dreams. She could see they were armed with shovels and knives, no doubt the marauding type

A man stood at the center of the gang, sticking out like a sore thumb compared to the other raiders. He had a suave air about him, slick hair, checker-printed suit and tie combo. Definitely took pride in the way he looked.

But the most notable figure, to her anyways, was the one currently on his knees. He was weak, vulnerable looking, having a simple set of overalls, gloves, a work shirt and hat on. Not dressed to kill or dressed to impress like the others.

His hands were bound, and upon seeing this, Luna activated her magic, attempting to undo the rope around his wrists.

She just stood there, horn alight as it didn’t work. It was like the dream was forcing her to just watch, unable to interviene.

“Guess who’s wakin’ up over here!” chuckled one of the leather-clad bandits.

She saw the bound human look up at the men who had captured him.

Luna stepped back in shock upon seeing his face.

...

It… wasn’t there.

There was nothing.

Where the bound man’s visage should’ve been was a mere smear, like someone had painted a picture with too much water or shaken a camera too quickly for it to properly snap a picture.

It was just a blurry mass of nothingness, no discernable color about it. No face to be seen.

Regardless of the horrifying revelation, she still pressed on, as the humans conversed around her. Suddenly, the checker-suited man walked right past her. He was holding a strange, coin-like item in his hand.

“You made your last delivery, kid,” he said, his tone serious before he reached his hand back into his suit, stashing away the coin. “Sorry you got twisted up in this scene.”

Luna tried once more to free the human as the suited man pulled out an ornate, well-kept pistol with highlights of ivory and gold adorning it.

Her magic still did nothing.

She could hear the bound man’s breath get deep, ragged, and panicked as he fought against his bindings. However, his “face” was locked squarely towards the other man’s gun.

“From where you’re kneeling, it must seem like an eighteen-karat run of bad luck…” the man with the gun said, his voice echoing in her mind.

She could only watch as he pointed his gun at his prisoner, feeling helpless.

“...truth is, the game was rigged from the start,” he said, his pistol aimed squarely at the faceless figure’s head.

BANG!

The shot heard 'round the Mojave rung out.

She could see a splatter of blood.

The bound man dropped onto his side.

The suited man just walked over to the corpse and then put a second round right in his head, giving a final coup-de-grace.

Everything was still.

Everything was silent.

...

Suddenly, the men faded away into nothing, every figure becoming ash that was blown away by a strong gust of wind.

Luna was alone with herself, her breathing being the only evidence of her existence.

She felt a pair of eyes on her but didn’t turn around.

The Courier was sitting on a large rock behind her, his hands propped up on his knees.

“You get what I mean now?” his tone was soft. Softest she’d ever heard, anyways.

“It was you…” she pondered aloud. “You were…”

She narrowed her eyes, biting her tongue as she was unable to finish.

“Yep,” he answered flatly.

She gave a small sigh.

“I’ve seen death before,” she admitted. “Murders, accidents, old age, even battles at times. It’s rare, but Equestria dealt with it as well. To see something like this… it wasn’t fully uncommon, at least during my original reign.”

“I wish you didn’t have to deal with that shit here too,” he said with a sympathetic sigh.

“What else did you do?” she asked, finally looking back at him. “What else have you been through?”

“You sure you’re ready for that?” he smirked, summoning the Platinum Chip and flipping it in his hand casually, as if it were a useless coin and not the cause of his death. “This was just a taste of what I’ve been through. You sure you want more?”

She nodded, her face steeled and stern.

He just chuckled softly.

“Alright, you’re the boss,” shrugged the human.

More scenes faded past her vision.

Suddenly it was midday, and she was standing in the center of the same small town she had been overlooking from the cemetery.

Goodsprings. A piece of the Courier’s dream seemingly told her.

In front of her, she saw the same human who’d been bound back at the makeshift gravesite.

However, his appearance had changed; he had a massive bandage wrapped around his head, along with a bandana covering his lower face and neck. The pieces of skin that poked through were smeared, still indistinguishable in color. Currently he was wearing a set of what looked to be padded leather clothing, looking far more ready for combat than he had been back at the ambush site.

Luna watched as he and several other humans, both male and female, fought off a group of charging raiders, who were adorned in black chest plates with long-sleeved blue undershirts and jeans on.

She watched as the Courier leveled out an over-under shotgun and blasted the skullcap off of the dark-skinned man leading the charging raiders.

His body dropped and the other citizens of the town let loose their respective guns at the remaining marauders.

“Cobb deserved it,” the Courier snarked, his voice echoing out around her. Cobb had obviously been the man the Courier had killed, and he obviously didn’t have a shred of remorse behind his tone.

The scene flashed by her eyes, and soon it was night again.

She sat by a campfire, watching the same blurred form of the Courier standing over the skinned corpse of a coyote. Luna choked back her lunch as she could smell its rotting body. But despite the stench, the human just shredded it with a large knife and roasted its corpse.

When the meat was overly charred, he took it off the fire and greedily ripped into it with his teeth.

“Gotta eat what you can to survive,” he pointed out.

Scene shifted again.

She was in a grungy office space.

Several other humans were with her here, all adorned with the same armor "Cobb" had been dressed in.

A pale-complexioned man sat behind the desk, eating from a can of beans as he laughed with his buddies. Suddenly though, there was a loud explosion, and the men all reached up to cover their ears. Moments later, they rushed around frantically, grabbing firearms and knives. However, as the man behind the desk pulled out a futuristic looking pistol that had a greenish glow about it, a figure rushed into the room.

The man’s eyes widened before a bullet blew through his skull, making his body drop back down into his chair, limp like a sack of potatoes.

Luna looked over and saw the Courier, now dressed in more durable looking military-grade armor. One that seemed to be made for actual combat and not mere scuffles like the leather armor. His upper head was now covered by a proper helmet too, though he still covered his face in a bandana and sunglasses.

In his hand he held a smoking .357 revolver.

“Eddie’s death was a bit different than that in reality, but you get the gist,” chuckled the human.

The scene shifted again.

They were in the middle of a steaming hot desert, obviously mid-day due to the sun beating down on the scorching landscape.

On the ground in front of her a woman in leather was clutching her throat. Blood pooled out from between her fingers as she instinctively kicked her legs, trying to back away from whatever had slit her neck. Off to the side, Luna saw at least three other blood-soaked corpses, two male, one female.

She cringed back as she could only continue to watch the human bleed out on the ground.

Soon enough, the Courier walked over with a bloodied knife in his right hand. He was counting out bullets in his left hand, no doubt having scavenged them off the others. Finally, he looked down at the Jackal member, her wide, horrified eyes staring back up into his uncaring shades.

He just raised the knife.

Luna had to look away as he jammed it down through the woman’s right eye socket and twisted, ensuring her death.

“Jackals, Vipers, all raiders are always equal opportunists. Would’ve killed me if I didn’t get them first,” he stated, as if it were a fact of life.

The scene changed again.

She suddenly found herself inside dark and dingy looking metal hallways.

Down the hall she saw the Courier, a large, boxy rifle-like weapon in hand. Soon, from out of thin air, a gigantic blueish brute appeared a few feet ahead of him.

It looked like Lily but had no kindness to it as it rushed at him with a large sword crafted from scrap metal.

The Courier was quicker.

The beast got struck in the face with a bright red energy blast and stumbled back. Six just responded by unloading more blasts from the laser rifle into its head and upper chest, leaving deep cuts in its rugged muscled frame.

Eventually though, one laser got lucky and hit the brute in the head. His entire body turned into ash within a flash of light, scattering to the dingy floor without any more fanfare.

“Bright Followers needed pest control,” he spat.

Another shift, another blur.

Found herself in what seemed to be the ruins of an abandoned city.

It was much larger than the prior smaller-scale towns, yet despite that had less life evident in it.

She seemed to be next to a fortified encampment of some type, though numerous dead bodies of humans were scattered about in the rubble. All of them had strange attires, with goat skulls adorning their heads.

Smoke covered the area, as if a large battle had taken place, or an explosion had gone off, kicking up a large dust cloud. Soon enough though, Luna watched as one figure emerged from the sandy cloud ahead, and she realized it was the Courier.

He was in armor that looked quite similar to his current appearance, though it looked less reinforced. Lacked the shoulder pads and extra equipment. She watched as he drug another man out of the clouds with him.

The man was adorned with the same goat skull helmet the other corpses had. However, he was still alive, albeit barely, as a large amount of blood was pooling from a wound in his stomach. He was being held roughly by the Courier’s left hand, which was wrapped around the back of his neck.

Six’s other hand had a large, aged, gnarled looking golf club of all things slung over his shoulder.

Luna, as she had before, could only watch as the Courier leaned the Fiend against a large piece of rubble, sitting him against it, his back braced against the concrete.

Her face steeled when she soon saw Six step back and line up the end of the golf club with the man’s temple. He was almost casual about it, as if he were just playing the sport itself.

Without a word, Six bashed Nephi’s own golf driver against his skull, cracking it, and sending brain matter all over the rubble. The golf club snapped in half from the force of the blow as Nephi’s bloodied helmet flew a good few feet from the force of the hit. After a second or two of getting some air, it impacted against the ground with a thud and rolled a bit before coming to a stop.

Nephi's finger just twitched as he sat there, dead as a doornail.

“I would’ve shouted ‘Fore!’ but it was too cliche,” Luna heard him say. “Would’ve been on par with the respect he gave any soldier he’d killed, anyways.”

The scene shifted yet again, and Luna soon found herself in a much different place yet again.

She was standing in front of a river, which had a rocky, gravelly bank.

Numerous plants were growing nearby, even fruit bearing ones, which showed this place to be a lot more fertile than the barren deserts and city ruins she’d seen. The alicorn looked to her right and saw a man clutching his bleeding thigh.

He had on a strange looking hat which was adorned with feathers. His clothes weren’t much to write home about, as he only had a bandoleer and a few pieces of leather covering him. Had a loincloth on at least.

However, she soon noticed the man was looking towards the river, and her gaze turned towards it as well. There she saw the Courier, still dressed in his NCR veteran ranger armor.

He was holding the head of another tribal underneath the flowing river, slowly but surely drowning him.

She watched as the man’s struggling got weaker and weaker under the Courier’s unyielding grip. The bubbles that billowed out of his mouth began to slow, and after almost five minutes of watching the brutal display, the tribal’s body finally went limp beneath the waves.

The Courier just squeezed his gloved hands around the man’s neck extra hard. There was a wet crunch audible over the sound of the river's rapids. Moments later, a small pool of blood bubbled up in the water from the definitely dead tribal's mouth, before being carried downstream.

She watched as Six then stood up and walked over to the bleeding man who was still applying pressure to his wound. At first, she didn’t know what to expect, but then she saw the Courier offer the downed man a hand.

“You alright, Chalk?” he offered.

Chalk nodded and accepted his help. The Courier got the tribal back to his feet, with Chalk slinging his arm over Six’s back to help steady himself.

“I just need a bit of healing powder, should be plenty back at the camp,” Follows-Chalk explained.

Six just nodded, helping him along as the two continued down the river bank.

“It was them or Chalk, and Chalk had a life worth living. The White Legs didn’t,” she heard his voice.

Was a bit more morose this time. Less vengeful, as if the memory was nostalgic to him.

The shifting had finally stopped, as if he’d shown her enough. Luna felt as if she wasn’t exactly meant to see the caring side of the Courier.

The side who helped a fellow man get medical attention.

The side who saved numerous lives with his actions.

The side who killed not for just vengeance, but for a seemingly righteous cause.

Darkness surrounded her, and soon enough, Courier Six appeared in front of her again. He was still sitting on the same rock, as it was just floating in blackness now.

She trotted over to him in the darkness; he was barely looking at her, staring off into the distance like some type of shellshocked soldier.

Even with the mask, she could feel his emotions.

“Surely there’s more to your life than just killing,” she offered, attempting to snap him out of the stupor.

“Sure, but that makes up about ninety percent of it,” he sighed back, shaking his head a bit as he cleared his blurred vision.

“Show me something good you’ve done. A deed not because you wanted a reward, or because you’d get something out of it,” Luna insisted.

He remained silent for a few moments, perhaps even a full minute.

She couldn’t hear anything, not even his breathing as he pondered her request.

“…fine,” he sighed, looking down at his gloved palms, before he rubbed them together.

Everything went away again…

She felt herself in his shoes now, his body. Not just a bystander, but she was in his literal point of view. She could feel his duster billowing in the wind. She could feel the material of his gloves rub against his hands. She could feel it all.

At the moment, she was him.

Experiencing his emotions, his thoughts, all of it. This wasn’t just the show of power and violence all the other memories had been. No, this was… more genuine.

Luna could only watch through the Courier’s own eyes as the memory continued on.

...

The valley was empty.

The Sorrows, the Dead Horses, even the broken and battered White Legs were gone now. Their leader was a shell of his former self.

The Courier had saved Joshua’s soul. Helped him in his time of need.

Now it was just him left.

But even still, one final soul had never been laid properly to rest. Never had a true goodbye given to it…

The Courier stood, looking down upon the decades-old skeleton. His bones were bleached by the sun, having been picked clean long, long ago.

The Survivalist.

The Father in the Caves.

Randall Clark.

His remains laid still, pressed against a large duffle bag. The Courier had checked it earlier and found an old, battered, yet unbroken Pre-War rifle remained inside.

Unique, chambered in 12.7mm.

A piece of him wanted it. But just as he had to so many things before, he let it go.

The Courier’s final good deed in Zion was to lay him to rest.

The hole was deep, easily six feet or so. He worked in the darkness, having no issues seeing thanks to his helmet. He was quick, effective, and tireless in his movements.

Despite being solo, the survivor had quickly finished it.

He clambered up out of the hole and examined another bag off to the side. This one he himself had brought. Six unzipped it and carefully brought out the contents.

A single, battered, beaten and patchworked set of Desert Ranger armor. Easily over a century old. It was much like the NCR gear the Courier himself was currently wearing, though definitely far more weathered, covered in grime, patchwork sewing jobs, and rust.

It was still immaculate.

A piece of him wanted it too.

That piece was banished to the side.

A different, more sentimental piece of the Courier considered adorning his fellow survivor in it.

It was also cast aside, feeling disrespectful to force him into the uniform he tossed aside. If he wanted to wear it, Clark would’ve put it on before his passing. When he came up here to lay himself to rest.

Thus, the Courier chose to simply bury it, the rifle, and the survivor in the pit together.

Inseparable, they belonged to Zion.

To have him plunder them for loot felt wrong.

He gently sat Randall’s remains down into the hole, and then did the same for the duffle bag and then the armor too. He was wordless in his ordeal, slowly but surely burying them.

Each shovelful of dirt felt like something within him was getting hit and hit hard. Maybe his conscience. Maybe it was something else. Each toss of the dirt, he could remember the terminals, even faintly hear Randall’s voice, though it was obviously impossible to imagine as the vengeful survivor never left holotapes or recordings to listen to. Just typed words, no pictures, and no face to put to the forgotten soldier.

He was silent as he buried the man.

After all this time, all these years, and all these generations… no one would remember him.

No one realized what he did for Zion.

It might’ve been a small contribution in the grand scheme of things, but it was a desire to ensure that tomorrow was better for the next generation.

And yet still, no one even knew his name…

Well, no one but the Courier.

He knew. He wouldn’t forget. He just hoped, beyond all hope, if Randall Clark, and the many, dozens, hundred, thousands of others who had been forgotten, chewed up, and tossed aside by the world… He hoped they would know he remembered.

Heaven, Nirvana, Something else? Wherever they were, didn’t exactly matter on the specifics.

Regardless, a deep part of him wished for them to realize their lives hadn’t been forgotten, hadn’t been in vain. Just like all the other soldiers and heroes and good men and women before.

He hoped they knew that they meant something… To him at least, if no one else.

He hoped that was enough for them.

Still yet, that made a piece of him strive for something. The desire to continue to exist, not for his own sake, but for theirs.

This refusal of the Second Death.

The idea of being forgotten. Horrific.

He hoped that it wasn’t painful for those he could never have had a chance to remember.

After a little while longer, he finished, patted down the grave, scattered some sand and rocks over it to make it look like a natural part of the ground. He made sure it looked undisturbed. No bastards could take it, loot it, throw aside the man who had laid down his existence for those he didn’t know.

None deserved his possessions.

Not even the Courier.

After another hour of just sitting and enjoying the quiet night sky above, he soon left...

Goodbye, Zion.

Goodbye, Randall.

Goodbye, those who were lost.

Goodbye, those who were not here to see this day.

Maybe, somehow, deep down, you all got what you wanted...

The Courier’s eyelids blinked shut.

...

Luna opened hers. Minor wetness adorned them as she could see the Courier sitting on the same rock a few feet in front of her. She’d felt his emotions, knew what it was like. Hit a bit close to home, the idea of being forgotten and unloved.

“Y-you knew him?” she managed, steading herself back to a calmer tone.

“No, never even met the man, had no way too, died well before I was born, I think,” Six shrugged.

“But you still put him to rest… why?” she asked, wanting him to be verbal with her. Instead of just letting emotions speak, she wanted him to admit it. Maybe it was just for herself to hear.

“He deserved it, after what I read in his journal entries…” the Courier paused for a second, giving a sigh. “He deserved someone there for him, even though he’d been gone for years before I ever discovered him. Didn’t deserve to be forgotten. No good man does…”

“You… are noble,” she offered.

“If that’s how you wanna see it,” he said back.

“I know there are more good deeds within you, you’re filled with anger and hate but… there’s something more to you than pointless rage, that much is obvious,” she explained.

“Oh you’re gonna make me blush,” he just snarked back.

“I will not pry further, I understand what you showed me was… painful enough as is,” she sighed, sensing him closing off again. “Still, may I ask one question?”

“Sure,” he shrugged. “Ain’t got anything better to do.”

“Why do you desire to go back? I can feel a sense of longing from your emotions,” she pointed out.

“It might’ve been a hellhole… but it was home,” he admitted. “Those people were my people. The good ones anyways.”

“You were a hero,” Luna nodded.

“Knock the hero shit off, I was just doing what’s right!” he hissed, a bit annoyed now. “Betterment for the group, the country, the whole. Not just the individual.”

“That’s heroic of you,” she pointed out.

“I’m not here to argue,” he growled, looking down, away from her.

“Neither am I,” Luna said, her tone soft and queenly as ever. “But when I was connected to you, felt your memories, your emotions… I felt more than just Zion... I know you care for them. My former subjects, I mean.”

She figured he was going to swat her away again. Toss her aside verbally, or even physically within the dream.

He just sighed.

“How can I not?” was all he replied with. His tone one of honesty.

“Give yourself a chance to care for them,” she explained wisely. “Instead of pushing them away, or closing them off, embrace them.”

“You act like I don’t know that,” he growled.

“Sometimes it helps to have somepony reaffirm it for you,” she explained softly.

“I already tossed them aside like everyone else,” he growled, smacking his palm against his helmet. “Abandoned them when they were there to greet me. I just came here and locked them out. Didn’t even give a shit what they felt about the whole thing.”

“I think you will find that they understand,” Luna replied. “They might not know exactly why it is the way that you are, but I’ve learned that even the closest of friends, and siblings, can have their falling outs.”

He just remained silent.

“What matters though, is how you deal with it,” she continued. “Either you can continue pushing it away, holding your love at bay… or you can allow others to help you. Allow them to break down your walls and get closer with them. Let their love drive you. Instead of being led by your anger. That allows you to come back stronger than even...”

She herself sighed this time, looking down.

“It took me a millennia to learn that,” she said, looking a bit saddened at remembering her past.

She was regretful as well.

He was silent for a bit longer.

She frowned further at his lack of a reply.

She couldn’t feel his emotions at all. Blocked off.

Suddenly though, he straightened himself up, hopping off of the rock he had sat on.

“I guess it’s a good thing I’ve not got a millennia to waste then,” he said, his tone snarky. Uplifted, even?

She brightened up at that, sensing this renewed vigor radiating off of him. For his part, he felt as if he’d popped an entire bottle of Buffout and chased it with a hit of Rocket.

“I hope one day you find whatever it is you wander for,” Luna offered, as she felt the dream around them begin to give way. “You deserve happiness.”

“You too, princess,” he smirked, raising a gloved hand to his helmet. He gave her a quick two-fingered salute as she smiled back at him.

“I hope to meet you again, Courier Six,” Luna called as she began to drift away from him.

“I think we will!” he called back. “But uh, next time, cool it with the all-consuming darkness in my dreams!”

She giggled at that.

And then they were both gone.

He awoke to the sound of thudding on his log shack’s door, and he jumped up, grabbing his big iron from the ground. Small rays of light peeked in through the numerous small cracks in the cabin as he steadied himself, aiming his firearm at the sound of the knocking.

After a moment of letting the sleep wash away from him and truly waking up, he heard a familiar voice calling out, muffled slightly.

“Hey Six, you in there, dude?” Dash shouted, her raspy voice filled with worry.

He holstered the Ranger Sequoia with a groan.

“Are you quite sure he’s in there, Rainbow Dash?” Rarity asked. “He could’ve wandered deeper into the Everfree!”

Six retrieved his helmet from the floor as he listened on.

“I bet he’s just ignoring us, I told ya’ll to leave him alone,” Applejack huffed. “A pon- human, losin’ his home like that, eats ya up on the inside. At least it would me.”

He fashioned it back over his head, making sure it was securely in place as he looked over himself and his gear, making sure everything else was as he’d left it before he'd passed out.

“Maybe we can just leave an invitation to another party instead?” Pinkie offered. “It worked last time!”

He almost chuckled at that.

“Look, I promised Scoots I’d go and check on him,” Dash finally shouted. “She’s been a nervous wreck all night.”

Ah fuck. How could he treat the kid like that?

“And Derpy too,” Pinkie added, he could tell she was frowning from her voice's tone. “Since Dinky’s been all down in the dumps, it's got her all worried. Even ice cream and cake didn’t cheer either of them up.”

His brow furrowed.

Rainbow Dash went to knock again.

Her hoof met nothing, and she nearly stumbled forwards into the cabin, though stopped herself as she looked up.

His red lenses stared back into her expressive eyes.

The Courier, for his part, examined the group.

No Fluttershy in sight. Guess she had to deal with the animals today. Plus, she knew him the least anyways. Oh well.

“Six?” she questioned in surprise, before her gaze hardened. “Why’d you have to go and leave Scoots like that? She was up all last night worrying about you! Thinking she did something wro-”

“Dash, we ain’t here to argue with ‘em!” Applejack growled, scolding and interrupting the hotheaded pegasus.

“Six, are you quite alright dear? You look… rather dreadful,” Rarity offered.

“I’m better than ever,” his tone was rough but energized.

The unicorn cocked an eyebrow at that.

“Ya sure sugarcube?” Applejack said. “I know ya have yer issues sleepin-”

“No Applejack, I’m fine,” he assured, his tone softening. “For once… I’m awake.”

The entire group looked at him funny now.

“Well of course you’re awake, silly!” Pinkie giggled.

“I don’t think he means it literally, darling,” Rarity offered.

“I’ve finally realized what matters,” he explained, stepping out of his cabin fully, closing the door behind him as he did.

They were silent as he continued.

“This whole time I’ve been… closed. Locked down. Didn’t focus on the things that were important,” he said, looking over the group.

They were important… But he couldn’t just say it aloud. Not yet. Had to be perfect. They deserved it.

“I just need some time,” he added. “Just a bit longer to orient myself. I’m fine now… I’m better.”

“If ya say so,” accepted Applejack, not detecting any lies from him.

“Well what should I tell Scootaloo?” Dash asked, still partly annoyed.

“Just tell her I’ll be seeing her really soon,” offered the Courier, as he slowly walked over to his garden, checking the crops.

“When?” Dash replied.

“Next day or so,” he smirked. “It’ll all work out in the end, I think.”

“I hope so,” the pegasus said, her annoyance giving way a bit to a faint trace of worry and sadness.

“Girls, I think we should give Six here some more alone time,” Applejack offered. “I think he’s doin’ a lot better now.”

The Courier nodded, still looking over the crops.

“Maybe I could plan a party for then?” Pinkie chuckled. “If ya want that is!”

“You know…” the Courier turned to face the pink pony, “...that’s not a bad idea.”

She beamed at that.

A while later he watched the group as they trotted away from the campsite.

He gave a half smile as he watched them go. It wasn’t a full-on grin of joy, but something inside did feel better, knowing they came all this way for him. The kids probably would’ve too if Dash and Derpy had let them...

What was he doing?

Why was he moping about? Having dark thoughts? Locking everyone out?

They cared for him.

They loved him.

That was more than most back in the Mojave could offer.

He should treat them like he treated the NCR… Yeah… that was it.

It was decided. Courier Six would fight for them.

He would help them in their time of need.

He would offer his hand…

If needed, he would die for his friends…

The darkness inside seemed to cower back, unable to comprehend his newfound light.

Author's Note

Goodbye old friend. You were always there for me. Even though you’ve been gone for a few years now, I will always remember you.

You made me happy...

This chapter is dedicated to you.