The Courier that lost her way and regained her strength through dead and rebirth.
Elizabeth awoke a week later with a nasty scar on her forehead and a splitting headache. The sweat and dirt and blood that had soaked through her very core was washed away; a clean slate.
She remembered nothing from her past. Only her name, her job, her number.
Six. An even number, not exactly symmetrical like eight, but it was good enough.
Maybe it was an unlucky number. Three times in a row, six-six-six, was the devil's number.
Or maybe it was a lucky number. To wash away her memories of a probably-painful life.
Or maybe, just maybe, it had no meaning. This was all just a coincidence.
The warm water washing over her in Doc Mitchell's shower relaxed her tense muscles, but still straining as she was nearly bent over to fit her head under the shower head. The memories of kisses and fire and tears and broken hearts remained in her thoughts like a dull knife splitting her open, her heart aching for something, anything, to remember.
But there was nothing. Just darkness, a barrel of a gun and a man in a checkered suit. A ceiling fan, her own pitiful reflection.
She shut off the water and dried herself off, changing back into her freshly washed vest, t-shirt, and jeans. Blood no longer staining the front of her shirt, bleached white and grey. There were a few remaining stains on her jeans, mostly from dirt embedded so deeply into the fabric it looked like it was meant to be there.
The brown leather vest, on the other hand, was the dirtiest of them all. Nothing could clean leather these days, not in an area as remote as Goodprings. Doc Mitchell was, as his name suggests, a doctor, not a dry cleaner. The most he could do was run it in the washer and wish for the best. There was still a bit of blood on the collar, on the right side of the flap facing outward, brushing against the Mojave Express patch sewn on with careful fingers.
A gentle knock on the bathroom door snapped her out of her thoughts, a muffled "Elizabeth? Are you done?" called out, and she gulped and opened the door and nodded, avoiding Doc Mitchell's eyes.
"I'm fine." She mumbled.
"Just making sure you're not hurt... or worse."
She nodded, shuffling out the door and followed him to the front door. He handed her a bag and a strange device, smiling warmly, "Thought I'd give you this. A Pip-Boy. I don't need it anymore, and you just might."
She blinked, and let him put it on her arm. It was a tight fit since she was much more muscular than he was, but he reassured her she'd get used it.
"Where... do I go?"
"I'd try talking with Sunny Smiles at the salon. She'll show you what's what around the Wasteland."
Nodding, she thanked the good doctor with all her heart, and slipped a shaking hand around the doorknob, trying to will away her anxiety, and twisted the doorknob and exited the house.
The light blinded her, and her head throbbed, almost making her pass out.
Goodsprings was a small town, with just a saloon, a general store and a few houses. It was charming, and had that old west feel to it, which she decided she liked. She walked into the saloon, and a dog growled at her. She took a step back, unsure if the dog was going to attack her or not.
Sunny Smiles, she assumed, told the dog to knock it off, and asked her to follow her outside. She taught her how to shoot with a varmint rifle, and she remembered she liked smaller guns much, much more.
Sunny offered her to help her clear out some geckos from the wells nearby.
It was easy enough. Elizabeth slashed right through them and wiped the blood off her knife on the gecko corpses. Sunny was impressed, and Elizabeth was secretly thankful. She instructed Elizabeth to find xander root by the schoolhouse and broc flower by the graveyard.
At the graveyard, Elizabeth felt a little uneasy. She had presumed to be killed here a few days ago.
She realized she was afraid of death.
She shot the bloatflies buzzing around and slowly walked to the shallow, dug up grave she was buried in.
Staring at her own grave, she felt chill run down her spine, and an uneasy feeling in her stomach. She quickly picked all the broc flowers in the cemetery and rushed back to Sunny.
Sunny taught her how to make things from plants she found all over the Mojave and the perks and consequences of some of these concoctions. Then she left after telling her to meet someone named Trudy.
Elizabeth wandered back into town after a few minutes of staring into the distance. She could see Primm from here, which was where she was supposed to go.
When the sun was setting, Elizabeth was feeling drained, physically and emotionally.
She felt like curling up into a little ball and sleeping for three years.
Three years...
It seemed like something happened three years ago, something really, really important.
A pair of green eyes filled with both happiness and pain, flashed into her mind, then they were gone.
Elizabeth sighed and ran her hands through her tangled hair. She pulled out her knife and cut most of it off. She let go of her hair and watched it float away in the wind, feeling just a little bit relieved.
She stood up and dusted herself off, then wandered back into Goodsprings.