Hello, members! This is my first Fallout-based fanfic. I don't typically write fic, but thought I'd try my hand at writing something set in a post-apocalyptic wasteland, and we all know that FO3 was so immersive...

Happy reading Thanks to Thekettleison for encouraging me to post.



TALK ABOUT A RUDE AWAKENING

Abby hugged herself as she stepped out of Moriarty's Saloon, feeling a chill. It was late evening by then, and after the day she'd had, she really wanted nothing more than a hot bath and to curl underneath the sheets of her bed back in the Vault. Unfortunately.

Her first impressions of the Capital Wasteland were not good ones. The holotape left for her by her father had instructed her not to leave the Vault, because the Wasteland was not a place her parents had wished for her to live, and it was quite obvious why after that first minute she spent on the outside. "Scenic Overlook", the sign said, displaying nothing but dust, rocks, and the remains of a society that once was, reduced to nothing. Hostility everywhere -- even the insects wanted to beat down a person simply for existing.

Everything reeked. The air was arid and left a metallic taste in her mouth, though she couldn't really figure out why. Abby was amazed to see that even after two hundred years, ruined frames of houses still stood. After a while she realized it was so dry, it simply wasn't humid enough for the wood to rot and decay. She followed the signs to Megaton and at first was relieved to see such a substantial settlement, certain to meet her father there, or at minimum, to gain some information as to where he'd gone.

She was wrong. Sighing a heaving sigh, Abby made her way back down to the ground, wondering if she should just find a spot along the boundary wall to curl up and cry herself to sleep, the sun having set at least an hour or so prior. Moriarty gave her information about her dad, though he all but told her to screw off otherwise. She shook her head at the idea of paying 120 bottle caps to spend the night in a bed that clearly never has its sheets turned and has had all kinds of bodily fluids spilled onto it. This may indeed be the Wasteland, but she still deserved to have standards.

Abby paused to listen to some crazy man stand in front of the bomb ranting about "Atom".

"Hey!" called a male voice behind her. "Where did you get that jumpsuit?"

Abby turned and saw a good looking, red haired young man was smiling at her. "Sorry?" she replied.

"Where did you get that jumpsuit, 101? You pretty much never see those ones, that's the vault no one ever leaves. You see others from time to time, 108, 106, but never 101." He gestured to an empty stool on the other side of the bar from him.

Abby took a seat. "Well," she began softly, "I came from there."

The man blinked. "Are you kidding?"

She shook her head no and pulled up her sleeve to reveal her Pip Boy 3000. "I used to live there until about eight hours ago --" she began, but was interrupted by the fact that the man had completely lost interest in her words and was clearly mesmerized by her wrist.

"May I?" he asked.

Abby shrugged and stretched out her arm, assuming he wanted to look more closely at the Pip Boy. Instead, he pulled her sleeve up higher, looked very closely at her skin, and ran his hands up and down her arm. "Your skin is absolutely incredible," he marveled.

"Whatever," quipped a voice from the other end of the bar. A woman in a yellow jumpsuit was handing an open beer to a customer on the other side. "Anyone would have gorgeous skin bathing in purified water for sixteen years."

"My name is Abby," she replied to the man, a little uncomfortably, then turned to the woman, "and it's nineteen, but thanks for the compliment."

"Don't be jealous, Jenny," the man mumbled, still intent on inspecting Abby's arm. "I have never felt skin so soft..."

Abby cleared her throat and pulled her arm out of the man's grasp. "I'm all for being friendly," she smiled, "but at least buy me a drink, first."

The man chuckled. "You're a charmer, aren't you? I'm Leo, the sour one is my sister Jenny, and you're in luck for a drink because this fine establishment is The Brass Lantern." The emphasis was laden with sarcasm. "What'll you take?"

"Beer." Abby reached into her pocket to pull out some caps, still amazed that what used to be treated as trash in the Vault is actually currency. Leo put the open bottle in front of her and when she held out her hand to pay he closed her hand with both of his.

"This one's on the house. I owe you one, right?"

Abby smirked. "Speaking of charming..."

Leo leaned on the bar, propping himself up on his folded arms. "So, 101, what is your story?"

Abby took a swig of beer and nearly spat it out. It was lukewarm and had a burn to it that was NOT typical of alcohol. She spluttered and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. Leo laughed.

"What's wrong, Abby? That's not your first beer, is it?" sneered Jenny. "Sorry, we've been out of beer made from mountain fresh spring water for about, oh, two hundred years."

"Lay off, Jen," Leo scowled. "Take some of these empty glasses inside, would ya?" Jenny flipped him off and went inside. Leo turned his attention back to Abby. "Sorry about that. Her boyfriend just dumped her and she's feeling...well, you can tell."

Abby just nodded and took another drink. "I was kicked out, by the way."

"Sorry?"

"The Vault. My father pissed off the Overseer, and they assumed I was in on it. My friend, she tipped me off. The guards were instructed to shoot on sight." She fell quiet and continued to drink her beer.

Leo frowned. He seemed to have picked up on the sudden serious tone in Abby's voice. Abby glanced up to see his sad expression and quickly said "--oh, my father isn't dead. He just disappeared. He left the Vault, which is against the rules, without an explanation." She paused. "Or, a 'goodbye'."

"I don't know why anyone would leave a fully functioning Vault, myself. If I had known there'd be two new spots, I'd have been at the door," spat Jenny, who had re-appeared without Abby noticing.

"Jenny, shut u--"

"I'm finished with this," Abby hissed, slamming her empty beer bottle onto the counter. "I'd like another, please, and try to find one that's been in a fridge." She and Jenny locked eyes for a moment.

"Hmph," Jenny grunted, snatching up the empty beer bottle and going into the fridge for a new one. She slammed it shut and mumbled something about needing to find one inside, and returned to the interior of the Lantern.

"Looks like you just might make it out here after all, Abby," Leo chuckled. "What is your plan, anyways? Do you even have a place to sleep tonight? Not sure if you've noticed, but the Wasteland isn't exactly friendly, in any respect. Although," he grinned, leaning towards her, "a gorgeous girl like you, with skin like that, I'm sure will turn more than a few things in your favour."

"Excuse me?"

"I'm just saying, I don't think you will have it as hard as some others, you know, based on, like, how hot you are --"

"What the hell are you saying?" Abby growled, suddenly very angry. She jumped up from the bar stool and took a step back.

"Hey hey hey hey whoa hey," Leo rattled, waving his hands, "I totally wasn't saying what you think I was saying, sorry, it all came out kind of wrong, and--"

Abby interrupted him. "Thanks for the drink." She turned and walked off, still completely unsure where she WAS going to sleep that night. With every indifferent glance or grunt she received from the other residents in Megaton as she walked by, she missed her father more and more. How did such a caring, compassionate man come from such a hardened, hateful, violent place like the Wasteland?

She had to find him, no matter what.

(Edited for basic housekeeping)

Since I'm up anyways, here's the second installment:

Welcome to the Wasteland, Population: Blood.

It had been a couple weeks since Abby had left the vault. The world outside felt so huge, and was so empty, it was keeping her from being able to simply run after her father on the little information she had about the direction he took. "Galaxy News Radio", she was told.

Within a day or so, Abby learned that you can't just walk through the Wasteland. You must go wearing armour, and packing heat...lots, and lots of heat. Personal protection costs caps, and caps, well...they needed to be earned in one way or another. Raiders and feral creatures operated on a strict "attack first, loot later" policy.

She had become quick friends with Moira Brown at the supply shop. Abby found her upbeat, can-do attitude to be refreshing in what seemed to be an overwhelmingly cold and negative world. It made the thought of having to put up with Butch DeLoria's teasing on a daily basis seem like a petty annoyance, though she wrote pages and pages about it in her diary when she was thirteen. Moira always had a smile for her, and she got roped in to helping Moira "research" her Survival Guide. Abby secretly thought the "research" to be tedious and pointless -- if you don't soon figure out how to forage for food and first aid, you die even quicker out there than if you don't have weapons or armour -- but she was far more interested in the caps and supplies she got as payment. Eventually she had earned enough caps to trade for armour and a hunting rifle, and decided to make a dedicated effort to finding the GNR.

She stumbled past the doors into the dusty, rusty crater called Megaton after dark a few days later. Abby hadn't felt this distraught since being told her father had left and she had to vacate the Vault. She was exhausted, confused, and most of all, freaked out. Abby ran to the clinic. Her father was a doctor and used to dispense chems constantly to Vault dwellers who were stressed out, unable to sleep, and so on. She pushed open the door to the clinic and did a quick scan to find Doc Church, who stepped out of his room towards her.

"Oh, Doc, good to see you, I --" she began, completely breathless.

"You don't look like you're missing any appendages, and you certainly aren't in need of some desperate patching up, so what are you doing here?" he growled, interrupting her.

Abby blinked and took a breath. "No, I suppose I'm not really injured, but I just thought, well, you're a doctor, and --"

"Yes, I am a doctor, and right now you are wasting my time. Didn't I warn you that if you can walk in here you aren't hurt enough for me to care?"

"Doc, please, my dad is a doctor and he used to help with all kinds of stuff. I just need, I don't know, some kind of downer and to talk to someone." She pleaded with him with as much conviction as she could muster.

Church sighed. "Listen, girl, I get it. You've been out in the big, scary Wasteland, and you're traumatized by what you have seen. Welcome to life for the rest of us." He reached out, took her by the arms, turned her around, and began to march her out the door.

"But!" she protested, but it was too late.

"I ain't no chem dealer, girl!" he proclaimed very loudly. "You want a downer and someone to talk to, go to the Saloon, but don't you come here." With that, he slammed the door in her face. Abby kicked it in a moment of uncharacteristic rage, took a breath, and suddenly felt like everyone was staring at her. She slowly turned around to see a bunch of people suddenly look embarrassed and move along their business. Scanning the crowd, she locked eyes with Leo Stahl briefly, before stepping down off the clinic's porch. Things had been cordial, though awkward, since their first encounter. Abby felt like she owed him an apology for reacting so harshly, but the last couple of times she had looked for him, he had gone out of town, or at least, was nowhere to be found.

She nodded at him and turned to make her way up the hill to leave the town completely, but he waved her over. Abby didn't want to outright reject him -- despite his poorly worded comments, he was the first and one of the only residents who had ever shown her kindness. Or, at least, gave her the time of day. She walked over.

"It sounds like you could use a drink," he greeted her, motioning to the same stool she occupied a few weeks ago. She regarded it warily, and looked back at him. Abby opened her mouth to apologize, but he threw his hands up in a halting gesture. "Look, I let my mouth run off last time without thinking about it, and I owe you an apology. Can we be friends?"

Satisfied, Abby nodded and sat herself down. He opened a beer and put it in front of her, then opened one for himself. "Now," he said, "tell Doctor Leo all about what's troubling you, young lady."

Abby smiled, then shook her head. "I don't know how to start."

"What happened?"

She took a deep breath and began to speak. The words just ran out of her mouth, with little effort. "I was approaching a Super Mutant camp. I could tell one of them was still hanging around, but I wasn't totally sure about where he was." Leo nodded and took a sip of his beer. Abby did the same. "I could hear him breathing, but those meat brains are so loud in everything they do, I...well, I didn't know."

"Mm hmm," he replied.

"I crept around the corner and was face to face with the Mutant. I think we startled each other. He roared and I stuck my rifle in his mouth and pulled the trigger...his head exploded into a bunch of brains and bone and....mush." She shuddered and took another drink.

After a pause, Leo began to offer some comfort. "Well, blowing the head off a Super Mutant, I mean, that's pretty intense. Most of us have never done it, so..." he trailed off.

Abby took another drink and shook her head. "I was upset that he had startled me like that, despite the fact I knew he was there, and the splatter was pretty gross, but it was overshadowed by what was lying around. It...I saw..." She shook her head again, and took a deep breath.

"Take your time," Leo replied softly.

"Have you ever seen a Mutant camp?" she asked gravely. It was Leo's turn to shake his head. "They're horrible. Human skeletons hung from posts. Bags and bags of just...gore. Dismembered bodies strewn about, and the smell." Her voice had been reduced to a whisper by then. Abby shuddered. Leo frowned but remained quiet. "It's offensive on so many levels."

"So, what happened?" Leo repeated.

Abby let out a sigh, and rubbed her face with both hands. She considered taking another sip of her beer, but instead began to talk.

-------

Abby gagged and spat out the Mutant shrapnel that had flown into her mouth. That is the LAST time I have my mouth open when I take a shot, she thought to herself. She rubbed blood off of her forehead with the back of her hand, certain there weren't any others around, and finally began to inspect the camp. She was horrified by what she saw, though not surprised. The inhabitants of the Wasteland seemed to have a penchant for spilling blood in the most extreme ways imaginable.

She crept past nearly half a dozen bags of absolute gore that were lined up along the inner wall of the fabricated camp. The contents of the bags barely resembled human flesh and skeleton anymore, but based on the amount of disassembled human body parts scattered around, Abby could only assume that these collections of "waste" were once people. She took a deep breath to steady herself and immediately regretted it.

A faint voice called out from a tent in the back corner of the camp. Smoke from a nearby fire in a barrel kept her from being able to see distinct features, but there was someone alive back there. In the middle of the camp was the body of a woman in the process of being butchered laying in a sea of blood -- only her torso, left arm, and right thigh were still attached. Abby quickly made her way past it towards the voice. It was a man, with his wrists bound and bloody.

"Help me! Help me, PLEASE!" he begged. Abby instantly released the ropes around his wrists. The man grabbed her by the shoulders, and looked her in the eyes. "Did you see my wife? Did you help her?"

The woman in the middle. Abby did not reply. The man released her and ran out of the tent, and she followed. Her suspicions were entirely correct -- upon discovery of the body, the man began to scream and wail.

"Kelly! Oh, Kelly, oh no, oh no oh no, Kelly...how...why...?!" He doubled over the body and began to sob. Abby strained her eyes and ears and turned around, looking and listening for any sign of returning Super Mutants, but could sense nothing. She turned her attention back to the man and what she saw made her feel sick: the man had his ear over the woman's belly, and was stroking and talking to it. "Don't you worry in there, little baby, mama is going to be okay. Daddy is going to fix mama up...and...now where is mama's leg...?"

Abby knelt next to the man who seemed to be scanning the camp for Kelly's missing leg. "We have GOT to leave, man, and now." He ignored her. Abby reached out and grabbed the man by the arm. She shook him gently, gulped quietly, but tried again to get his attention. "We have to go, and we have to go right now, the other Mutants are going to be back and they will do this to both of us, or worse," she said in his ear, as firmly as she could.

The man yanked his arm out of her grasp and started babbling, referring to Kelly repeatedly. Abby decided to give the man one more chance, stood up and took the opportunity to scrounge around for whatever ammunition and supplies the Mutants had left lying around the camp. She hoped he would be able to be far enough past the initial shock to see reason.

After she had cleared out all the loot that was to be had, she tried one more time to convince the man to leave. Abby still could sense no sign of any nearby threat, but the man had once again begun to weep and wail, so she knew they would be back much sooner than later. She placed her hand on one of the man's shoulders. "Come on, we need to go, Kelly is long gone now and -- OW!!" The man had turned and pushed her away so violently that suddenly she was on the ground, her face scraping on the busted up concrete. She jumped up. "If you want to die out here like this, then that is fine, but I tried to help you, jerk!" she shrieked, turned and ran. She was maybe about a hundred feet out of the camp when she stopped dead and crouched behind some rocks. Glancing over them, she could see the man was gently rubbing the dead woman's belly, but still, quite loudly, ranting and babbling.

She couldn't do this. She couldn't do it, she just couldn't. Just a warning, that would be it, just a warning. Abby aimed her rifle, steadied her hands as best she could, and fired so that the bullet grazed the man's ear.

He did not react.

----

Abby fell silent. Her beer was long empty and she stared into her lap, as if the rest of the story could be read from there.

"What did you do, Abby?" Leo asked. His voice made it sound like he already knew, but was in denial about it. "What happened?"

"A conversation with a pretty girl kill your brain cells, Stahl?" drawled Jericho, who was sitting a couple stools down, and had heard the entire story. He motioned for a refill of his whiskey. Leo complied but gave him a nasty look. "She killed the bastard in cold blood," Jericho continued. He turned to look at Abby, who met his gaze. "Isn't that right, sugar?"

"Nah, no way, I don't believe it," muttered Leo, who studied Abby's face.

Abby swallowed and avoided eye contact.

"...no," Leo breathed.

----

Abby hissed a string of profanities to herself, cocking the next round. "Oh God why, why why why?!" Abby took aim at the man's left temple. He had begun to sing some kind of lullaby. "Crap," she murmured one last time, and fired. Despite being a novice, her gun was still in great condition, and her aim was true. She wiped the tears from her eyes, stowed her rifle, and ran.

----

"Wow." Leo crossed his arms and shook his head.

"I say, good on you, girl," leered Jericho. He knocked back the rest of the whiskey in his glass and slammed the glass on the bar for added flair. "I'd have done the same thing, but to shut him up, without the warning and at point blank, but eh," he shrugged, "you're obviously the goody two-shoes type." He leaned forward towards Leo and said, "I didn't know you were into that, but hey, wonders never cease." With that, Jericho stood up from his stool, and returned his attention to Abby. "I will say, though, if you're going to run in here crying every time the Wasteland upsets you, maybe you should just stay here and keep Leo company."

"What are you talking about?" Abby asked, narrowing her eyes.

"I'm talking about growing a thick skin and a back bone. There's a reason most people are like me, and not like you -- the Wasteland eats little pansy-ass snots like you for breakfast. So if you insist on this self-righteous crusade of spreading peace and kindness, you better be prepared to blow up more than a few skulls." Jericho looked back at Leo. "She'll pay for my drinks," he said, and walked off.

Abby reached into her pocket for some caps. Leo tried to wave her off but she insisted he take them. "I had no idea I had a reputation," she smirked.

Leo chuckled. "Not sure if you noticed, but there isn't much going on in these parts, and people love gossip." He leaned against the wall and fidgeted with the caps in his hand. "Jericho is right, though. Why do you think the rest of us shut ourselves in here? Why do you think the walls are so high? We can't handle what is out there on a day to day basis, so we pretend we don't have to worry about it." He gave her a serious look. "It's too much for most of us to handle, and, you know, none of us would fault you for wanting to just stay here."

Abby burst out laughing. Leo looked confused at her reaction. "Oh Leo, don't you understand? That camp was the most horrifying thing I'd seen so far, but it wasn't the blood and guts and what Super Mutants do to people that got me so upset." She wiped a tear from her eye, and paused. When she spoke again, her tone was cold. "I killed a man, in cold blood, because I thought he had suffered enough, and didn't want him to suffer more at the hands of those meat brained Mutants. Who was I to decide that?" Abby frowned. "What scares me, is that I would do it again. Easily."

(Edited to repair broken tag.)

Looking good so far. I remember when I first played Fallout 3. I reacted just like I think I would have in real life. I stuck close to Megaton, only making a few explorations into the wastelands, and staying clear of D.C. for a while. Barely made it to GNR when I finally did go in. Which I imagine will be the circumstances that Abbey will arrive there in.

P.S: I've got my own fan fiction and I got to say, two chapters in eight minutes. You're making me look bad my friend.

Thanks for your comment!

Also...I am just re-posting from the original blog. It only took me 8 minutes to fix my tags and censor out the swears...haha

Hey there Skirt. Congrads on your first FanFic post.

I liked it. You have very good dialogue, and I liked how the chronology isn't linear, yet isn't all flashbacks either. It was interesting to learn what Abby had done at the same time as Leo and Jericho did.

Its hard to write a main quest F03 FanFic though. Its is well, well trodden ground. You'll need to keep Abby a very interesting, human, and relatable character to keep this distinct from the thousands of other main quest stories that have been written. So far though - you've done a good job.

Three things:

1) "Unfortunately." This words hangs off your first paragraph and just seemed odd. I normally don't correct typos or that kind of thing, but its the first paragraph, and it seemed unnecessary.

2) Where did Abby get caps in Chap 1? She left the vault with caps? I was confused.

3) You don't need to self censor profanity, just so you know. The forum does that for you, so you can write [censored], [censored], [censored], all you want . . . well, unless you're very creative with your curses like I am. Hehe.

Thanks for deciding to share this mate. It's been a cracking read so far :thumbsup:

I really enjoyed the second installment. Look forward to reading more of your' work.

I have recently discovered I can put food in front of my daughter and she eats it rather than wears it! Joy of joys, I have a few minutes on the forums, haha. I'll reply to both comments:

SentientSurfer -- thanks for your comment! I can only imagine that the MQ story has been hashed out a million times. Those series of events are meant to be background to my focus, which is indeed Abby. I have at least three more installments to re-post which I hopefully can do later tonight and perhaps will demonstrate this for you. Also, personally, nothing kills the flow of a story better for me than to be reading along and then it's [censored] [censored] [censored]. So obnoxious. The forums will bleep out the words but I'd rather not break up my precious dialogue that way

Kettle -- thanks and thanks Hopefully the later entries won't be disappointing, hehe.

Understood. . .but the idea of wastelanders saying "crap," "darn," "gosh," or generally PG language makes my skin crawl.

EDIT: Not that you've done that

I completely agree. I feel like it's not canon otherwise. Unfortunately, I haven't quite figured out the best way to get around it. It's [censored] annoying

I forgot to address the caps question...to me it's irrelevant to the story, really. Maybe she had a "talk" with Silver, maybe she traded some memorabilia she smuggled from the Vault to Moira, but that's the sort of thing I'm not really focused on with this fic.

:goodjob: I like it, look forward to reading more!

Skirt, I'm diggin your first Fallout fic. It makes me think of Lightning just in much improved manner, and set thousands of miles away.

Thank you for your kind comments! Now I worry that later installments will disappoint but I'm committed, now. Prepare yourselves for some hawt sixual connotation action in the next entry.

I forgot I liked the all caps title, so here goes:



...AND KISS LATER.

Walter thanked Abby profusely as she unloaded another ten pounds of scrap metal she had salvaged on her most recent foray into the Wasteland. She had just returned from Galaxy News Radio, where she let Three Dog talk her in to helping him out, even though she sweetly coerced him to give up the information he had beforehand. She wished Walter a good night and was nearly run over by Leo coming in the door to the Water Treatment Plant on her way out.

"Watch i--hey! Hey!!" he exclaimed, grabbing her by the arms when he recognized who he had run into. He grinned from ear to ear. "I'm so glad to see you! It's been almost two weeks, where have you been?!"

"Hello to you, too," she replied, also smiling. "I've been to GNR, The Mall, The Washington Monument, and The Museum of Technology...and back."

"Quite the traveler. Were you going to come down for a drink?"

Abby gently pulled his hands off her arms. "I was going to, right after I saw Moira about getting my equipment fixed, and having a bit of a wash up." They exited the plant together.

"Don't you know what time it is? Moira's long closed," he replied. "Just come down to the Lantern."

"I should really wash up."

"We have a sink," Leo smiled, beginning to lead her down the metallic catwalks. "What were you doing at Galaxy News Radio?"

Abby deftly flicked a switch on her Pip Boy right in time for Three Dog's voice to proclaim her praises for having installed a new dish to broadcast the signal across the entire Wasteland. "What he doesn't tell you is that he had wanted me to fix the dish in exchange for information about my dad," she added. She turned the radio off again. "How've you been?"

The question surprised him. "Me? Oh, you know, about the same." They had reached ground level. "Things are boring when you aren't around."

"Oh really?"

"Of course." Leo opened the door to the Brass Lantern and held it for her. "You're so present, you know everything that's going on around you, and yet somehow this horrible world we live in hasn't brought you down." He paused. "I envy that."

Abby felt confused by that final comment. "What do you mean?"

"Nothing really," he replied quickly. "Toss your stuff down anywhere, and I'll try to find some cold beer." Leo led her past the main seating area of the Lantern's interior and into the back area where the stairs to the upper, private level was located, and the pedestal sink.

"Thanks." She dropped her travel pack onto the floor, pulled off her helmet and gloves, and had peeled off the top half of her armour before realizing she should have, perhaps, exercised a little more modesty. It had only been a month or so since she was exiled from the Vault, but she had become so used to changing clothes and armour in the field, she didn't even think about who could potentially be watching.

Abby ran the water and began to wash her face. Her skin had reacted early on to her sudden use of the hard, irradiated water that was the way of life out here, and she lamented it a little. Her brow, nose, and lines of her cheekbones had broken out in tiny pimples, and Abby doubted the amount of grime, sweat, and gun oil she rubbed into her face regularly helped that much at all. She worried her father would even recognize her, by the time she ever found him.

She washed underneath her armpits and was rubbing the back of her neck with her fingertips when she sensed someone approach her and begin to massage her shoulders. "You're really knotted up," Leo said.

Abby wasn't sure if it were the skin to skin contact, or the actual massage, that felt so good -- perhaps it was a combination of both -- but she started to relax her arms. "It's a rough place out there..." she murmured.

"Mm hmm." He pressed his thumbs into her skin in circles underneath the straps of the thin tank top she wore and worked his way around her shoulder blades, and back up to the base of her neck. "How's that?"

"Really good," she admitted. Abby closed her eyes as she continued to unwind.

Leo began to work his hands back down her shoulder blades. "I missed you," he suddenly mumbled into her ear. Abby's eyes shot open. Leo wrapped his arms around her waist and softly nuzzled her neck. Abby couldn't deny that she welcomed this sudden closeness, and that she had even thought about it once or twice -- particularly while alone, out in her travels -- but at the same time, her mind kept telling her she didn't know him well enough, or that maybe he was just trying to use her, or, or, or, or...

He kissed her neck softly and gently slid his hands up and down her back beneath her shirt. "Your skin is absolutely incredible," Leo cooed, "I won't ever forget that first time I touched it."

"Being friendly," she replied. It was becoming harder to listen to the voice telling her to punch him in the groin.

His hands stopped. "Yes, that's what you said." He lowered his hands to her hips and gently turned her around to face him. "Look, I don't mean to...well, I mean, I guess I just thought..." Leo sighed. "You were gone for so long this last time, and now you're back and...I'm just trying to say, I'm really into you, but I am not the kind of guy to, you know, try to..." He stumbled awkwardly over his words.

Abby looked up into his eyes, and recalled a conversation she had with Three Dog just days prior. Three Dog insisted she have a drink with him to celebrate the installment of the new dish on the broadcasting tower, and the next thing she knew, they were drunk and exchanging a boisterous conversation on the social norms and customs observed in the Vault and the Wasteland. He had laughed when she told him how sixually driven Vault life was: when you consent to a "date" with someone, you're really consenting to awkward intercourse in the empty classroom. The milkshake shared in the cafeteria prior to that was a formality vaguely based on pre-war social constructions.

"The Wasteland isn't much different," Three Dog had roared. "Don't let the words in these ancient songs fool you, there ain't no hand-holding and parental blessings. Out here, you get laid first, and kiss later." He knocked back the rest of his vodka, then leaned towards her and said, "but listen to me, dear, young Abby, for in the absence of your father I feel the need to give you the birds and the bees about it: if a man kisses you, and I mean, really kisses you, then you know he loves you."

Abby swallowed, bringing her thoughts back to the present. Leo was studying her face. She reached up, pulled his head towards her, and kissed him gently on the forehead.

The next thing she knew, she was sitting on the bed in the very back of the restaurant, running her hands up and down Leo's back underneath his shirt, as he kissed under her chin.

---

"That was a great idea," she said. Leo purred some unintelligible response. Abby absently stroked his hair and stared at the ceiling. She recalled all of the other dates she had -- there hadn't been many, there were a total of five, but she dated one twice -- and she had always felt a sense of guilt, or regret, at the end. Abby wondered if it were because she'd have to pass her father on her way out, with a look on his face she only saw those five times in her life. It was a look of disappointment, and it haunted her terribly. He never outright forbid her to go, but she knew he wasn't happy about it.

That life seemed like a century ago. All Abby knew was that she didn't feel any of those feelings of shame that she did before. This time, she felt calm, and satisfied...and, perhaps the most scary, she felt happy.

EDIT: I am striking this installment from the record. I have left it up on the website for, I don't know, purposes of feeling embarrassed, but in general it doesn't fit and unless I can fix it later, it shouldn't be here!

Thanks

The last entries were that bad, huh? Maybe I can atone...

For fun, I have left the original swear words in to see the extent of what the board automatically filters out. You can use your dirty word imaginations! Also...I hope I don't offend anyone with my horrible attempt at British slang. All I know about England I learned from Harry Potter books and Coronation Street.


THERE'S ALWAYS A CATCH


It was late afternoon. Abby trudged along the broken remnants of what used to be a paved road, heading back to Megaton for a cold beer, a meal, a makeshift shower, a nap, and then possibly a gratifying [censored], in that order. A few hours prior, she had been waylaid by a band of raiders, and she blamed herself for not paying enough attention to simply creep by their camp entirely and carry on her merry way. She was low on ammo, water, Stimpaks, and in a very, very bad mood.

Abby had decided to start investigating the other Vaults in the hopes that they would have information regarding the elusive Vault 112, but had found nothing in 106 or 108. She was returning from her venture into the latter and she was exhausted. Nothing had prepared her for what she had stumbled upon in these other Vaults -- evidence of large scale, unethical, scientific experiments. It was clear that these Vaults still had their experiments continuing, though there was obviously no longer any real study occurring. If anyone escaped those Vaults unscathed, Abby figured it was no wonder that so many people had absolutely no love of life.

It was a couple hours from sundown and she knew she wouldn't be making it to Megaton before nightfall. The realization of this made her sink even lower into a bad mood, as impossible as that seemed. Abby hated traveling at night -- the dead quiet of the Wasteland and reduced visibility spooked her endlessly -- and paused in her tracks to survey potential resting spots nearby. She saw a ruined overpass ahead and decided to stop there.

Two minutes later, a voice broke her from her thoughts. She cursed herself for letting her mind wander yet again from paying better attention to the surroundings and turned towards it. A man, wearing typical Wastelander garb, was standing about a hundred feet away, waving and calling at her. "What do you want?" she barked back.

"Help, traveler, can you please help? Please help!"

Abby sighed. She took a few steps towards the man and again asked "what do you want?"

"My wife, she's hurt and needs help," he replied. He was standing next to a pile of three or four junked out cars, the result of having fallen off the overpass when it was destroyed. "Can you spare some meds, or chems? Please!" He sounded frantic.

"I can help you," Abby replied calmly. "I have some medical knowledge. Just try to calm down."

"Oh, you do?! Thank God, she's just over here." He took Abby around the edge of the car-wall where she expected to see a woman laying on the ground in some sort of pain. Instead, she was face to face with the barrel of a sawed-off shotgun, and the woman kneeling behind it looked about as healthy as Abby could tell. Behind her, crumpled beside the wreckage, was the body of a man, but Abby couldn't see if he were breathing from where she stood. She assumed he wasn't.

"What the [censored] is going on here?" Abby spat. She raised her hands slightly. The woman behind the gun grinned a grin missing more than one tooth and cocked it.

"Ain't it obvious? You're svcker number two to fall for our ploy, and we're gonna take all your stuff, now!" The man actually cackled.

Abby turned her head to look at the man who was now casually waving around a .32 pistol. "Listen, [censored], I really don't think you want to do this. I'll leave you fifty caps and be on my way."

"No." He was twirling the gun around his finger. "You can give us all your stuff and then leave, or my wife'll blow your brains out, and then we'll take your stuff. It's your call, girly."

"You don't want to point a gun at me," Abby threatened darkly.

"I already am, you stupid [censored]," the woman snarled.

Abby turned her gaze back to the woman for a moment. "Your gun is empty."

The woman was dumbstruck and her mouth fell open in shock.

"Shut up!" the man yelled. Abby quickly turned to see he had the gun properly in his hand, then, and was pointing it at her head. He bent his thumb to [censored] it and Abby had her own pistol out, a 10mm, in her right hand. The man opened his mouth to no doubt utter something overconfident but Abby didn't hesitate and pulled the trigger twice. One bullet to his jugular, the other to his head. Blood exploded from his neck, and skin, bone, and teeth blew out of the side of his face, before his body gave out and he landed in the dirt. The woman shrieked.

"I was aiming for between the eyes, but I'll take it," Abby commented before turning her attention back to the woman who was now sobbing in hysterics. The shotgun was loosely held in her dirty hands, and she was on her knees, nattering away, but Abby couldn't make out the words.

Abby slapped her across the face to shut her up. The woman got the message and held her cheek, and gazed up to meet Abby's eyes with a furious look on her face. "I'm going to assume that he put you up to this," Abby began very seriously. The woman swallowed and did not respond. "You don't go around robbing decent people. That's just bad practice." The woman still did not reply. "I am going to give you ten seconds to take whatever you want off your husband's worthless body and get out of here before I make you join him. Don't do anything stupid. Do you understand?" This time, the woman nodded.

Abby stepped back. "Good." She began to count. The woman scrambled to her feet and dashed over to the man's body. Abby watched her carefully as the woman frantically emptied the man's pockets...but by the count of five she was going for the gun, and Abby knew it. The woman swung her arm around and turned to face Abby, but Abby already had her pistol aimed and cocked. "Wrong choice," she growled, and pulled the trigger three times. The wastelander cried out, grabbed her chest where each of the three bullets had hit, and fell back.

An insane rage filled Abby then, and she stomped over to the two dead bodies of those who just moments before had threatened her life. "Stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid!" she shrieked, kicking the dead woman's body with each iteration of the word. "I gave you a chance, you [censored]! I told you to get lost!" She kicked the corpse hard enough to make it roll over. "What the hell was wrong with you?!" Abby kicked the back of the dead woman's head. "Did you love him that much, really? That [censored] [censored] who thought it was [censored] funny to rob someone who would have helped you?!" She stomped the woman's temple with her heel and heard a disgusting crack. Abby knelt down and roared in the woman's dead ear. "I said not to do anything stupid! I told you I'd kill you, didn't I?!"

"Bad day, love?" asked a voice from behind her. Abby whirled around and aimed her gun which was still in her hand. Propped up against the wrecked cars was the man she had assumed was dead, though he had a gash in his forehead above his right eye just underneath his hairline. "I would appreciate if you would stop yelling, though. I have a bit of a headache," he smirked, vaguely gesturing towards his head wound.

He also had a very thick British Commonwealth accent, the thickest Abby had ever heard...and it sounded beautiful. She swallowed, though her mouth and throat were suddenly very dry, and tried not to let the music that was this man's voice and words distract her. She aimed her pistol at his chest. "Show me your weapon."

"It's lying by your feet, there," he nodded at the shotgun. He winked one of his lovely, crystal blue eyes. "We both know that if I were armed, I'd have put a bullet in your back while you were having your little fit."

She did know that. Abby holstered her pistol and sighed. "It's been an extremely [censored] day."

"That makes two of us. Have you got any aspirin?"

"Yes," she answered. Abby swung her travel pack around and rummaged her hand through its contents as she approached him. "I can take a look at your injury too, if you'd like, I have --"

"Medical knowledge, yeah, I heard," he interrupted.

He had been conscious the entire time, then. Abby pulled out a pill bottle and some purified water, offered them to the man with her left hand, and thrust out her right. "Abby."

The Brit shook her hand and smiled. "Calvin. Cheers," he saluted her with the water before popping a couple of the pills.

Abby knelt to the ground and pulled out a piece of cloth and bottle of vodka from her bag. "May I?" she asked, nodding at his forehead.

"Go on."

She moistened the cloth with the vodka and gently wiped up the blood that had run down the side of his face. "Deep breath," she instructed before she dabbed the wound.

Calvin's breath hissed in sharply. "Bugger," he mumbled. Abby smirked at his use of a regional curse word and leaned a little closer to get a good look at the wound. It had swollen but wasn't too deep; no stitches needed. She informed him as such and proceeded to run her fingers gently through his hair, searching his scalp for additional bumps, bruises, and bleeding.

"Seems okay," she muttered. "Are you injured anywhere else?"

"Not that I can tell," he replied, gazing at her curiously. "You're very heavily armed for a medic."

Besides her side arm, Abby also carried a hunting rifle slung across her back, and an assault rifle hung just behind her left hip. She kept a couple grenades clipped to the front of her belt and a knife strapped to her leg. "I'm more merc than medic. My father is a doctor, I learned a lot from him...and even more traveling alone out here." Abby packed the vodka back into her bag and pulled out one of her last Stimpaks. "This will take the swelling right down, and ramp up the healing."

Calvin accepted the Stimpak, still with the curious look on his face. "Thanks, sweetheart."

Anything for you, just keep talking, she thought to herself. Calvin was definitely one of the most handsome men Abby had ever seen in her life. Besides the beautiful eyes and lovely accent, he had thick, shiny, very soft hair, without a lick of grease in it. He appeared to be tall but of a slight frame...and he wasn't missing any of his teeth.

He must have caught her staring. "Are you heading back out, before the sun goes down?"

Abby blushed, and glanced west. Sundown was less than an hour out, now. She looked back at Calvin and smirked. "Are you looking for some company?"

"Yes," he replied. He had administered the Stimpak and was now leaning back on his elbows. "You wouldn't leave poor, injured ol' me by myself, would you? That would make you one lousy medic."

"It would make me a lousy person," she corrected. "I still have a half day's journey to my destination." Abby noticed he was studying her face very carefully, still smirking. Why was he doing that? She began to speak very quickly. "I'm going to Megaton, to see my boyfriend. And, you know, re-stock."

"I see." Calvin offered nothing more. Why was he still looking at her like that?

After an awkward minute he sat back up and gestured at her bag. "Got anything to drink in there, other than water, or medicinal vodka?"

A small fire pit had been dug out, and Abby had since traded her armour for a simple merc's garb. She and Calvin sat and exchanged stories of their upbringing and otherwise. She learned that he wasn't more than a year or two older than she, and had only arrived in America a few months prior by way of Canada. Abby grilled him about the state of his homeland, and Canada, and the other places he had passed through before landing in the Capital Wasteland, but he was non-committal about the answers and only gave her vague details. She dropped the subject early in the conversation.

They drank. Abby always carried scotch in her pack, for that fateful day she were to meet her father, when she'd offer it to him as a beverage...or pour it over his body to burn it to ashes to keep the Wasteland vultures from doing something worse to it. She had offered Calvin beer, but he would have none of it -- "I can't stand that American piss you call beer" was his response -- and she shrugged, meaning there were just more for her. He happily accepted the scotch and sipped it straight from the bottle.

Calvin was deadly charming, and he knew it. Abby took to repairing and maintaining her guns to try and keep herself from being svcked right in, though she reciprocated his flirting and enjoyed the extra attention, even if she suspected it wasn't really genuine. She opened up a second beer and put her hunting rifle onto her lap and began to deconstruct it.

"Is there anything you can't do?" he asked her, watching her nimble fingers go through what had become a very smooth, well-practiced routine.

I can't find my father, popped instantly to her mind. She dismissed it and said instead, "I can't drink scotch," and winked. It was a weak response, but she'd been drinking and couldn't think of something more clever on such short notice.

"Ah, right then, we've come full circle now!" Calvin laughed and placed his interlaced hands up back behind his head. "Time to change the subject." There was a particular twinkle in his eye that wasn't there earlier.

"Okay."

"What do you want to do tonight, then, love?"

Abby looked up from finishing the reassembly of her rifle. "Pardon me?"

Calvin didn't immediately answer. Abby held her breath. He must have known the entire time that Abby found him intriguing, and attractive. She wondered how easily he could read it off her face. Either that, or he knows he's really good looking. She didn't deny to herself that the thought had crossed her mind more than once as the evening went on, but what about Leo...?

"He'd never find out," Calvin said, as if he had plucked the thought right out of her mind.

"He's my boyfriend," she replied quietly.

Calvin shrugged and popped the lid off the scotch bottle, and took another drink. "Not sure what you think he does all those nights that you aren't there, sweetheart."

Leo? No. Yet Abby couldn't stop her mind from running a mile a minute, jumping to each and every time she'd ever walked into the Brass Lantern to find him leaning over the counter, flirting and cajoling with some other pretty thing Abby'd never seen before. He always told her he was just being a "good host". She knew better, he was doing more than that, with the way he carried on with those women, but he wasn't actually sleeping with them. ...was he? He seduced you fairly easily, after all, she thought to herself.

Calvin's hand was patting hers and he was talking to her. "I didn't mean any harm, love, and I'm sorry. If you really aren't interested, then it's more my loss than yours." He gazed into her eyes, then, and Abby was hooked. "I just want you to know that I think you're gorgeous."

Before her rational mind caught up to her, Abby was in Calvin's lap, and was kissing down his jaw from his ear to his chin. When her lips made it to the chin, he met them with his own, causing her to jerk her head back and gasp in surprise.

"You're...you're not supposed to do that," she blurted.

"You what?"

"It's not allowed. I mean...in the Wasteland. No one does that." For some reason, Abby was having a terrible time articulating herself. She assumed it was because she more than enjoyed the brief kiss.

"What, snogging?" Calvin looked as though he were ten kinds of confused. "But why? I mean, it's almost half the point, really."

"I don't know why, exactly, it's just a 'thing'. Wastelanders don't do that until they're married or something, something about radiation poisoning or...or something! I don't know!" Abby was beginning to become exasperated. What was so hard to understand about it?

"Oh!" he exclaimed cheerfully. "Easy workaround for that: I'm foreign, and you grew up in a hole in the ground. We're not like them at all." Calvin emphasized his claim by waving his hand towards the dead bodies Abby had created earlier. She pouted, unconvinced. He turned on some of the charm she had been experiencing all evening, then, by pulling her a bit closer to him. "Besides, I want to kiss you. Though it's too bad you taste like beer."

"It's too bad you taste like scotch."

Calvin kissed her again. Abby gave in fully and felt like she were going to turn into an unrecognizable puddle of goo, right there on his lap. She wrapped her arms around his neck and felt him wrap his around her waist. Her whole body was awash in a glowing, warm feeling. Kissing Calvin felt like it were natural, and right...almost instinctual. Could she really have developed strong feelings for him in the few short hours they talked, or perhaps, was she just overcome with lust?

It didn't matter. She didn't care.

---

The sound of metal scraping on metal woke Abby from her sleep. She was curled in a tight ball underneath her merc garb. She blinked and realized the sun was barely starting to come up. "Everything okay?" she murmured, still half-asleep. Abby wondered for a short moment if the previous night's activities had even occurred.

Calvin was scraping a spoon inside a pot over the fire. He was fully dressed and, apparently, fully awake. "Mornin', sweetheart. Yes, everything's fine. Breakfast?" He tilted the pot towards her so she could see what was inside. It looked like some unholy combination of Cram and InstaMash.

"Ah, no, thank you." Abby sat up and pulled on her shirt. "How long have you been awake?" Where did he get the pot, and the food? As she began to wake up a bit more fully, something didn't make sense.

"Not long." Calvin sat and began to eat right out of the pot. "Unfortunately I can't stay 'til lunch, I have to make up for yesterday."

"Right." She had no idea what he was talking about. "Where are you headed?"

"I don't know, really. West, I suppose."

Something wasn't right. This wasn't the natural, sparkling Calvin from the day before. Abby tried not to over think it and finished getting herself dressed. Calvin sat quietly, eating his breakfast. She was hunched over, packing her bag, when he spoke again behind her.

"I'm a slaver."

Abby stopped dead in her movement. She turned her head to look him in the eyes, and his face told her it was true. It didn't stop her from asking, "pardon?"

Calvin smiled. "I know you heard me." Abby swallowed. She felt her heart sink into the pit of her stomach and a hard lump had formed in her throat. Feelings of horror overcame her, and she felt nauseous. He continued speaking. "I wanted you to know the truth. Those people," he gestured to the dead wastelanders from the day before, "I thought they'd be an easy target. Instead, because I'm a lousy shot, I used my last two shells and all they had to do was push me hard enough into that hunk of metal over there." He paused for a moment. "I don't know how, but you were right about the gun being empty."

"It was the sound," she replied quietly, having found her voice. "Normally I can't tell, but she had it right in my face, after all." She pulled the drawstrings of her travel pack tight and tied it off. "So, why haven't you collared me? You had plenty of opportunity to do so." Abby's voice began to give away the hurt she felt. Hurt? You're so stupid. You trusted a man you met in the wastes, and you are surprised that he isn't what he seemed? svck it up.

Calvin smiled a half-smile. "You're simply too smart, strong, and independent. Slaves are more useful if they don't do a lot of thinking for themselves."

"I see."

"Come on, love. I'm a person, too. I got to know you and the dead truth is that I really like you, and deeply respect you. You are a remarkable woman, and I do think you're gorgeous. I have never met anyone else like you."

Abby did not reply, but she did not suspect he was being untruthful.

"You should come with me."

What?! She blinked, and opened and shut her mouth a couple times, but no words would come. Calvin approached her and took her hands in his. "I mean it," he continued. "You are brilliant with a gun. You'd be the muscle, and I'd do all the talking."

Abby suddenly felt very uncomfortable. "I don't know..." she began.

"Think about it!" He had her by the shoulders and was grinning ear to ear. "We wouldn't do it forever, just long enough to save up a little dosh, and then we could just run off to wherever you'd like and settle down. I heard there are wonderful settlements out west, large, and safe."

Again, Abby swallowed. She was certain that if he'd asked her to do this last night, even if he also admitted he was a slaver, she'd have agreed in a heartbeat. She just couldn't. The thought of selling people for money made her feel ill. Her father was still out there, and maybe she wasn't taken in as quickly by Leo's looks and charm, but he was still a good man, and kind. Calvin's smile dimmed, as he seemed to have read the answer off her face.

"Fair enough," he said softly. Calvin let go of her arms, and swept his own pack onto his back.

She stuck her hand back into her bag and rummaged around for a moment. "Here," Abby instructed. She thrust out her hand, holding five shotgun shells. "I must have picked them up somewhere but I don't have use for them."

"Cheers." Calvin grinned. He reached out for her hand and instead of simply taking the shells, he pulled her towards him. She didn't fight it, looking him straight in the eyes. Slaver or not, he still was extremely handsome. "One last little kiss for the road, eh?" He kissed her, but she didn't feel the warm, melting feeling that had overwhelmed her last night, but she kissed back anyways.

They parted ways. After a dozen steps or so, Abby turned and called to him. "Hey, Calvin!"

He turned and called back. "Yeah?"

"You better practice with that gun. If we meet again...I'll probably have to shoot at you."

He didn't reply right away. Abby wondered if maybe he hadn't heard her, until he said "I'd expect nothing less."

Good work here Skirt :thumbsup:

I enjoyed this chapter much more than "Blink and You'll Miss it" mate. That one wasn't bad or anything, just a little too random for me perhaps.

This one was a real return to form though and your' use of english slang was pretty good. Keep it up mate.

I lost "it" with that installment, I can agree with you on that one. I can't figure out what it's missing, and hoped there'd have been a suggestion on two! Oh well...

Everything else I have written I feel much better about, including all previously posted installments minus that one, so hopefully that bodes well for the remainder of the fic.

Great job Skirt, this was enjoyable.

Thanks again for the kind comments! There will be only two more installments after this one...it makes me feel a little sad, actually.


WHAT GOES UP MUST COME DOWN

Something had changed for Abby. After her encounter with the British slaver Calvin, all of the time she spent with Leo was sweeter, more exciting...better. Leo had unlocked something in her all those weeks ago -- or, was it months? Yes, it was a couple of months now, how amazingly fast time seemed to fly -- and Calvin had brought it out completely. She found herself being able to just give in to the moments she shared with Leo fully and completely, and the loss of the inhibition she didn't really know she had brought out other things she didn't think she'd ever have experienced, either.

Things like happiness, and true love.

Abby was always skeptical of true love. The entertainment reels they used to watch in the Vault made it seem like love was something that happened to two strangers who chanced to meet under extraordinary circumstances, who both also felt lonely and looking for "something else" out of life. Women with weak personalities looking to fall into the arms of some mysterious, soft spoken man; men who feel like they have everything and then they meet the one set of briasts they can't live without. The other girls used to swoon over these kinds of things, but they only served to make Abby feel sick.

She came to realize, though, that true love exists. All she ever thought about was Leo; the next time she could see him, talk to him, touch him. Besides the fact that she always got side tracked by helping out every damn person she met in the Wasteland with one life-threatening errand after another, the way she kept returning to Megaton was the main reason she hadn't made more progress on finding Vault 112.

Two weeks ago, they were lying next to each other in the afterglow. "I want you to stay with me," Leo had said to her. Abby didn't outright reject his proposal, but she didn't commit immediately, either. She convinced him that finding and helping her father was her first priority. At first she could tell he wasn't overjoyed, but eventually he accepted her reasoning. "I better enjoy your company while you're here, then," he replied, grinning.

Abby was returning to Megaton after another visit to GNR. She had made her way to the Citadel at some point, but the Brotherhood that hung around there were so tight-assed about everything, they refused to even tell her that they knew anything about the surrounding geography. She even tried the "don't you know who my father is?" card, but unfortunately, most of the Brotherhood put on patrol on the outside were children when Project Purity was in full swing twenty years prior. Instead, she had focused on getting the boys at the GNR outpost liquored up and talking. The farther they were from the Citadel, it seemed, the easier it was to convince them they could share a little about what they knew.

She had been wrong all along. All she found west of Evergreen Mills was an abandoned automobile garage, and an insane military robot that nearly blew all of her arms and legs off. After that encounter, she started carrying a pulse grenade on her belt for easy access at all times. Knight Paladin George Stingback -- or whatever his name and title had been, Abby couldn't quite remember and didn't really care -- drank the booze she had offered him right up and started rambling almost right away. She figured he must have thought he'd get lucky with her if he did, but the man was at least as old as her father, and thus Abby really hadn't been interested.

"If that's what your dad said, then it must be there," he had drawled. "Did you go inside the garage?"

"No," Abby replied. "Why would the Vault somehow be inside the garage?"

"Why wouldn't it?"

So, it was worth a shot. First, she would tell Leo she were going back. At this point she owed him regular updates on where she went.

Upon her return to Megaton, Abby was completely unable to find Leo. She checked the Lantern, and neither Jenny nor Andy had seen him. She didn't see him around the town, either. Abby figured he must have gone on a walk outside the walls.

She walked into Craterside Supply. Moira was delighted at the bag of scrap tech Abby had dumped out for her onto her workbench and started picking through and anolyzing the various bits and pieces.

Abby leaned her back against the front of the counter and crossed her arms. Moira was the closest thing she had to a friend other than Leo, and they shared a penchant for gadgets and their repair. Moira also liked to dismantle things, something that Abby didn't quite share, but they exchanged many heated, and insightful, conversations on anything from robots to guns to radios. "Moira, what do you think of Leo Stahl?"

There was a short, but definitely distinct and awkward hesitation before the red-haired eccentric answered. She grinned over her shoulder. "He's a super sweet guy! He always comes in here looking for you, afraid that you'd come into town and he hadn't known about it."

Abby couldn't help but smirk. "Really?"

"Sure," Moira replied. She turned back to inspecting her junk. "He was here a little while ago, actually."

"He was high as a kite," growled the mercenary from his permanent post by the doorway to the upstairs.

Another pause. "Pardon me?" Abby wanted to make sure she had heard correctly.

The mercenary looked up and made direct eye contact with Abby, something he had never done before. It spooked her. "He was high." He emphasized the last word with a particular acidic tone. "Strung out. It was deadly obvious, but you don't expect more from a junkie."

Abby felt as though she were going to be sick. Her stomach suddenly dropped and she felt dizzy. A junkie? Leo? How did I not see it?! She looked up and could see that Moira had turned away from her completely, appearing as though she were totally immersed in her trinkets. Moira wouldn't lie, and her body language spoke volumes. Abby turned back to the mercenary who returned to looking aloof as he always did. "Where is he?" she asked quietly. The mercenary shrugged. Abby took two steps towards the merc and jabbed her index finger into his arm. "If everyone knows all about it, then tell me, where does he go to get high?"

"Watch it, lady." He swatted her finger away but Abby persisted.

"You can't just start talking [censored] about someone, [censored], and then not back it up. Let's hear it!" Her voice began to get louder the more she spoke.

"Okay, relax," he relented. "He holes up at the Water Processing Plant." Suddenly, he reached out and grabbed Abby by the arm and looked her straight in the eyes. "Don't you ever touch me again."

Abby yanked her arm out from his grip. "No chance of that," she spat.

"Not everyone knows," spoke Moira very softly. "His own family is oblivious. The only reason the merc can tell is because he's seen it out in the field."

Abby nodded, then turned and left without saying another word. She marched straight up to the Plant. Deep breaths, deep breaths, stay calm, stay focused, don't lose it on him, that will just make him defensive, you can help him, just stay calm, stay relaxed, stay--

Her mantra went straight out the window the moment she spied Leo sitting at the back of the plant and literally at that moment taking a hit of Jet. His back was to the door so he didn't know it was her that had walked in and didn't even turn to see who was there. "What the hell are you doing?" she barked at him as she stormed towards him.

Leo, quite obviously surprised, jumped right up and knocked over his chair. "A-Abby!" he stuttered. The empty Jet inhaler fell out of his hand and clattered to the ground. He looked and sounded beyond flustered.

Abby was seething. She pointed at the empty inhaler with the other hand on her hip. "What are you doing with that?" she demanded furiously.

"Abby, sweetheart, I was just having a bit of fun," Leo replied, gently waving both of his hands in the halting gesture he had used so long before. "Honest, it's nothing."

"I heard you're a junkie."

Leo's brow furrowed. "Who told you that?"

"It doesn't matter," Abby hissed. "Is it true?"

Leo swallowed, his hands lowering. Abby had locked her eyes with his and he took that as the sign to be very careful about what he said next. "I can stop whenever I want," he finally said.

"That means 'yes'," Abby sighed. Looking him in the face made it very hard for her to stay mad at him, though she was still annoyed. "Why the [censored] would you touch [censored] like that, Leo? Don't you realize they're addictive?"

"Of course I do," he murmured, and turned his head away to break eye contact.

She reached for his arms and lowered her head so that he would be forced to look her in the eye. "Look, Leo, you can get past this. I've had a couple problems with this stuff in the past, and it's hard to kick but you can do it, and --"

Abby was interrupted by Leo violently shoving her hands off his arms. "Oh, I see how it is," he growled, suddenly angry. "It's totally okay for you to use addictive substances, but I better not touch them, is that it?"

Abby blinked and straightened. It was her turn to be defensive. "Leo, I'm out there every day risking my life in a world of hostility! I go weeks without eating, and sometimes days without sleeping. Sometimes, if I don't take that hit, I won't make it out alive!"

Leo chuckled.

"What's so funny?"

"You know," he crossed his arms and glanced upwards before making eye contact again, "everyone always said you were some self-righteous goody-two-shoes [censored] who came out of the Vault with the sole purpose of showing the rest of us what [censored] heads we are. You think you can just fix everything."

Abby's face darkened. "Excuse me?"

"You know exactly what I mean, Abby, don't play stupid. You're not very good at it."

This was a particularly mean side of Leo that Abby had never seen before. In fact, she never suspected he even had a nasty side to him like this at all. She hugged herself. "Leo, I really don't know what you mean."

Leo laughed. It was a bitter sound that stabbed daggers of hurt through her whole body. "You go around doing a good deed here and an errand there, and it's always as though it's because you pity all the rest of us who were born in this [censored] Wasteland. You act like you always know the right thing to do, the right way to live and do things out here, when you spent your whole life holed up underground and safe."

"I do know what it's like out here, Leo. I've been living it for months, now!"

"[censored] off," he spat. "Just now you came in here, lecturing me about how horrible it is to take Jet, and that you'd help me through my addiction." The last part was said in a mocking tone. "You're out of control."

Abby couldn't believe her ears. "I care about you, Leo," she began, almost whispering. "I was angry because I care. I've been addicted to this [censored] and worse, and it's not healthy. It'll kill you. That's why I offered you some help." She absently rubbed her eyes with the back of her hand.

It was Leo's turn to get into Abby's face. The look of anger and insanity scared her. "I do this because of you!" he roared. He pushed her, causing her to stumble back and hit a railing. "I have quit, you know. I quit when I first met you, because you took my mind off everything else. You told me all about what happened to you out in the Wasteland, and I didn't need to get high because you were around." Leo's voice had dropped in volume. He avoided eye contact and fidgeted. "You are always in and out of town. Days, weeks, I never know if you're coming back." He sighed. "The last time you were away for longer than a week, I couldn't take it. I started using again. This time, too, you were gone for so long..."

Abby did not respond. He reached out to her again but she flinched and turned her shoulder away. A pained look crossed his face.

"Abby, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to...please, I'm really sorry. I just...that's why I asked you to stay."

She looked up and met his eyes. "You know I can't do that now, not yet." Abby spoke very quietly, and very sadly. "I have to go back out there. I have to, at the very least, find my father. I think he needs help." She paused slightly before continuing. "I think he needs me."

"I need you, Abby! Don't I matter? I'm the one who's always here!"

"I know..."

"I'm not the one who abandoned you, left you to die in a riot!" Leo reached out once again, and this time Abby let him gently hold her arms. "Stay here with me, where it's safe. Please."

A sinking feeling gripped Abby's stomach. She did not break eye contact. "I can't, not yet. I need to go get my father. I came to tell you that I have a good feeling about where he is, now. I'm going to help him."

"Abby," Leo began gravely, "I didn't want to do this to you, but I can't live like this anymore." He released her.

"What are you saying?"

Leo took a deep breath. "I'm saying, if you walk out that door right now, then that's it. We're finished. You need to choose."

Panic overcame her as he said these words. Abby had no intention of breaking up their relationship, but she wasn't ready to just settle down and forget about her father, or the Wasteland. "Don't do this, Leo. Give me a little more time, I just need to do this one last thing --"

"I'm not waiting anymore, Abby," he interrupted. "It's always going to be just 'one last thing'. I want you to stay, or to leave, but you can't have it both ways."

There was a pause. Abby couldn't believe he was serious. "This is impossible," she replied, exasperated. "You can't make me choose between my father and you."

"I am." He crossed his arms.

"You really won't let me have this last chance? You really are willing to just let me walk out that door, after all this?"

Leo laughed then, again, a haunting sound. "There you go, again. You know what, Abby, maybe this is for the best. It's not all about you. I have needs, too, and I told you what they are." He shook his head. "You have risked your life for so many other strangers, but I have one simple request, and I'm the one you deny."

"That hurts," she said, her lip quivering and her vision beginning to blur. "Out of all those Wasteland [censored]s, you're the one I really care about, Leo. I thought you knew that."

"You won't stay."

"You know I can't!" She was shrill, now. "If you aren't able to understand that, then I guess it's better for me, too!"

"Good!"

"Fine!!" Abby turned and stormed out as she had stormed in. She furiously wiped tears from her eyes as she clattered up the catwalks towards Moriarty's. When she went to confront Leo about his Jet habit, she did not expect it to end like this. Everything she had built with him in the last few months suddenly crashed down around her ears, and it left her emotionally reeling.

"What'll you have?" Gob was asking her. Abby didn't know when she had even walked into the pub and found herself standing at the bar.

"Oh, uh, hi Gob," she answered, flustered. She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. "I'll take two beers and a shot of whiskey."

Gob looked at her strangely. "Okay..." He reached under the bar when she spoke again.

"Make it a bottle of whiskey and a glass."

"And the beers?"

"Yes."

"Are you expecting someone?" Gob brought out the requested items while she fumbled in her pack for some caps.

"No. I'm just very thirsty," Abby replied curtly. She dropped thirty five caps onto the bar, picked up her drinks, and sat in the armchair in the corner of the establishment. She drank her first beer all in one shot. It was warm, tasted terrible, and drinking that much carbonated beverage that quickly made her feel nauseous...but she didn't throw up. Abby put the empty bottle down and picked up the second beer, realizing all the other patrons were staring at her. "What?" she sneered. She stood up and turned the chair so it faced the wall instead of the rest of the bar and opened up her drink. She drank this one a little more slowly.

Lousy jerk, she thought to herself, bitterly. If only he knew how much she loved seeing him, talking with him...or, hell, how much she simply loved him. He had been all she thought about for weeks, and suddenly he wanted her to just [censored] off and die.

Abby slouched lower in her chair and took another gulp of her beer. She replayed the last half hour in her head, over and over, anolyzing and re-anolyzing everything he had said and done, getting hung up and angry at the most hurtful parts. Suddenly, her second beer was empty. She knocked over the first empty bottle setting the second one down. Over her shoulder, she noticed Gob was watching her, and she waved. "Sorry!" she slurred.

She filled her glass with whiskey and fiddled with settings on her Pip Boy. Eventually her glass was empty, and she filled it again, though she had to be very deliberate because she was starting to feel like her fine motor skills were waning. She didn't even bother trying to replace the cap. Abby hummed along with the music playing from the radio on the bar that was tuned to GNR.

The third time she reached to refill her glass, she knocked the whiskey bottle over entirely. It had spilled out that vicious amber liquid onto the table and floor before Abby could right it. "Shiiiiiiit" she groaned. Abby tried in vain to collect the drops into her glass when a dirty bar rag flopped onto the table. She looked up and Colin Moriarty, the bastard himself, was standing there with a smug grin on his face.

"Broke yer heart, did 'e?" he cooed. Abby frowned but didn't answer, and clumsily sopped up the spilled whiskey with the cloth. Moriarty continued. "It pains me to see you in such a state, lass."

"Shuddup," she blurted. "You're lying, your whole business model is based on people's misery." Her words were heavily slurred.

Moriarty barked laughter. "Clever lass, you are your father's daughter indeed if ever there was doubt. Right down to your blind trust of people."

Abby managed to get the remaining whiskey into her glass. She didn't reply, hoping he'd just leave her alone. He didn't.

"Poor thing, you must have really thought something of that no good sot." Moriarty sighed. "You just can't ever trust a junkie."

Abby picked up one of her empty beer bottles and hurled it at his head. She missed magnificently. "[censored] off!" she groaned. Moriarty just laughed harder. She was standing, then, and reached for the other empty beer bottle but lost her balance and landed onto the small table with her ass in the air. The bar erupted in laughter, the patrons having begun watching the scene after her missed toss had clattered against the wall. Abby blushed and tried hard to pick herself up but again seemed to have lost all control of her limbs. She landed on the floor in a mess of arms and legs, the room spinning. The laughter cut through her head and began to give her a headache.

"Leave her alone!" A female voice came from behind Moriarty and someone was pushing him aside. "You poor woman," the voice cooed with genuine pity. Abby narrowed her eyes and tried to steady her vision enough to see who was talking to her. The face swam in front of her but Abby was simply too drunk to recognize her, though she'd seen the other woman in town. "Come on, hon, come with me." The woman reached down and pulled Abby up. Abby stumbled forward, the alcohol she had consumed in such a short time suddenly coming down on her like a ton of bricks.

The woman began to lead her towards the door, barking at the other patrons to let them through. She was speaking to Abby in between but Abby was so drunk, she had no idea what was really going on.

"He asked me to stay, but he knew I couldn't," Abby babbled.

"...sorry?" the woman asked.

"Leo said, you have to stay, or leave, and I said I can't stay now, and so he dumped me," Abby slurred on. "What an [censored] right?"

"Yes," the woman replied.

The next thing Abby remembered was waking up and feeling like her brain was trying to implode. Her mouth tasted disgusting, and dry. "Morning," she was greeted softly. Sober, Abby recognized the woman easily: it was Lucy West.

Abby muttered something that was meant to be "good morning" but came out unrecognizable.

"You were in real rough shape last night," Lucy said. "Gob always goes on and on about how you're such a great friend to him, I can't believe he let you just drink so much at one time like that."

Abby rubbed her eyes and noticed her gloves stank like whiskey. She couldn't remember a thing that happened after Moriarty had spoken to her and she had thrown the beer bottle at him. Lucy explained to Abby what had happened, once she learned that Abby really didn't remember much of anything. She told Abby that Abby babbled incessantly but she was so drunk and slurring, and missing, so many words, Lucy had no real concept of what had happened.

Abby nodded. "He dumped me," was all she would offer. Lucy left it; there was no need for further elaboration. Abby drank some water and fell back asleep. By the early afternoon, she had slept off most of her hangover. Lucy offered her some potato chips which Abby gratefully accepted. By evening, Lucy had implored Abby to just stay behind for another night, but Abby politely refused. She thanked Lucy for her trouble, insisted on giving her some caps for her help, and left.

She looked around the town briefly and sighed. There wasn't much of any way she could leave the town without passing by the Lantern. Leo wasn't standing outside serving customers, so that made her feel a bit less awkward. Abby was nearly at the top of the long, makeshift staircase leading to the front gate, when she heard a voice calling behind her. She froze, but didn't immediately turn around.

"Abby!!" Leo called more urgently.

Abby turned, frowning. Leo had run up the stairs and was out of breath. The anger, hurt, and heartbreak she felt so intensely the night before had dulled, but looking at him made her feel very sad. She waited for him to start talking.

"I couldn't let you leave after how we left things last night," he finally said.

"I don't see how I wouldn't leave, after how we left things last night," she muttered bitterly.

Leo didn't engage. "I wanted to say a proper goodbye."

"Okay then," she replied, trying to keep all emotion out of her voice as she spoke. "Goodbye, Leo."

He reached out and pulled her very close. Before she could even ask what he was trying to pull, he leaned in and kissed her. It felt like a million things happened at once. Abby could hear Three Dog's voice repeating "then he loves you", and she felt waves of warmth wash through her body. She was angry and ecstatic at the same time.

She found herself instinctively kissing back. He pulled away at a natural break and they both looked into each others' eyes. Abby swallowed but said nothing, in some form of emotional shock.

"Goodbye, Abby," he breathed as he released her.

All she could do was nod, turn, and leave through the city's gates.

(Edited to correct a tag I missed)

Fantastic Skirt. I really enjoyed this part mate. You put a lot of emotion in there but also a lot of morel greyness. The part where she was admonishing Leo for his recreational drug use was great. The hypocracy of her telling him it was ok for her to use chems and her reaction to his anger was spot on mate.

Nice job! I can really feel the emotion you're conveying through the story. It's a very creative story and was not what i was expecting. i finished reading it, and I hope you continue to write this magnificent piece of art.

Keep it up!

Really enjoying your story. The familiarity fills in the background, letting us be caught up in the story.

This is it, the end of Abby's tale...the final two installments. :)

TWO WORDS...

Abby absently stoked the little fire she had built. Night had fallen on the third day since she and James had escaped Vault 112 en route to Rivet City, but it wouldn't be longer than a few hours until they arrived once they started out again in the morning. James had originally set out at a quicker pace -- Abby had to hand it to him, the old man could hustle -- but the weeks he had spent immobile in the Tranquility Lounger had left his joints and muscles feeling far more stiff than he had expected. He seemed embarrassed to have had to ask for them to slow down, but Abby happily obliged. After all, she had a lot she wanted to tell him.

The pair had spent the entire time talking. Abby had admitted to him that she felt guilty about the kind of teenager she had become while they still lived in the Vault. It was fashionable to keep things from your parents, and push them away from you when they just wanted to be close and show you that they cared. When James had left, Abby suddenly found herself in that void your soul falls into when there was no closure and so much remained to be said. She had opened a floodgate and told her father everything that had been on her mind. She had had a lot of time to think about all the things she had wanted to tell him during the course of time she spent looking for him.

She told her father all about how she had lost her virginity at the after-G.O.A.T. party -- everyone did, it was a widely-accepted activity following the test that marked Vault teenagers' coming of age -- to a drunken, older boy named Gregory Flat. He preyed on the younger girls and went to the after party every year. All of her other friends had paired off and Abby felt pressured to do the same. That was the night she found out that no one in the Vault even really liked her, because the rumour had been around for some time that she and her father weren't really from the Vault. Gregory had offered up the information as a pick up line. She had never felt so alone, then. After what would end up being the worst, sloppiest six she would ever have, Gregory passed out with his pants down in that empty stairwell he had dragged her off to, leaving Abby to feel dirty and ashamed. She stripped him right down, took his clothing to the cafeteria, soaked them, and put them into the freezer. Then she returned to the suite she shared with her father, showered, and climbed into her father's bed where he was sleeping, the first and only time she would do so since she were a very young child.

Abby opened up that place inside her she had put all of her life's worst moments and let everything out. She confessed to every lie she had ever told James (and in the end, learned that he had always known when she had lied); admitted every instance she had said something terrible about him or any other person; and informed him of everything else she had been feeling particularly guilty about in her past. Through all of it, James passed no judgment, and instead offered her comfort and support, or simply an open ear, as he felt appropriate.

There remained one more thing Abby had to tell him, and it wasn't proving to be easy. She fought within herself about whether or not to even tell him, but she knew she must. No more secrets, no more hiding -- if the Wasteland had taught her anything, it wasn't to expect tomorrow. If only I had learned that applied to relationships, too, she bitterly thought to herself as an imagine of Leo's smiling face came to her mind.

"Something wrong?" James broke her thoughts with his question. Abby realized she had been frowning quite deeply and immediately grinned.

"No, nothing. Guess what?"

James had found some rock or rubble to perch on in front of the small fire and sat down. "What's that?"

"I have a treat for you." Abby reached into her bag and pulled out a bottle of scotch, and a glass. This bottle of scotch, however, was unlike the conventional bottles found in bars and other places all over the Wasteland. It had particular etching on the outside of the glass, and though the label was in no way legible any longer, the unbroken wax on its neck sealing its top kept its vintage bold and clear: 2075.

"Where did you find this?" he exclaimed excitedly, taking it from Abby gently.

Abby shrugged. "A safe in what probably had been some rich bastard's basemant. It looks sealed but if it's gone bad, I have a contingency bottle in my bag."

James had already cracked the wax seal and was beginning to wiggle the stopper out of the bottle. Abby rustled around through her pack, desperately seeking the last bottle of purified water she was sure she had, but only came up with a lukewarm Nuka Cola. Persistent nausea had set in within the last day or so, and she found herself suddenly unable to stand the thought of anything other than simple water. A beer had ended up broken in her bag the day before and the smell of it caused her to retch. James had already fallen asleep, though, and was completely unaware that she had been sick at all. Abby thought she'd give the Cola a try.

James had poured some of the vintage into the glass and was eying it carefully. "It's the right colour, so that's something, at least," he chuckled. He swirled the liquid gently and sniffed it. "Smells all right, too."

"And the taste?"

"Get a Stimpak ready in case it poisons me," he teased. James brought the cup to his lips and took the smallest of sips. His eyes lit up at the taste. "Incredible! It's so smooth, and tastes like...well, I don't know what to compare it to, to be honest. It probably tastes like whatever cask it had been in." He sighed a wistful sigh. "The wood from some long extinct tree, I suspect."

"I'm glad you like it," Abby smiled, trying very hard to keep from looking as disgusted as she felt. She sat next to her father, and though the open bottle had been re-stoppered, the smell of the small amount of scotch in the glass was making her stomach flutter. Or maybe I'm just nervous. They sat quietly for a moment, the first real quiet that had settled between them in the past few days. Abby popped open the Nuka Cola and before she could take a real sip, something inside her brain just wouldn't bring the bottle to her lips.

She had played all the possible outcomes in her head, over, and over, and over. Just two words, that's all they were. Abby had decided that if she lead up to it in a positive way, perhaps he would respond positively as well. "Daddy?" She hadn't used the child like pet name for her father in years.

"Yes, honey?" James didn't seem to notice her form of address.

"Let's have a toast." Abby raised her soda bottle.

James raised his glass with another chuckle. He had been in an exceptionally grand humour since being freed from 112. The prospect of finishing the purifier he had spent literally decades of his life working on seemed to have filled him with a renewed sense of hope for the future. Abby had never seen him so cheerful, and she hoped she wasn't about to crush it. "Okay," he replied.

Here we go you can do it, her mind prattled. "To the Wasteland's most handsome grandfather," Abby touched the neck of her bottle to James' scotch glass.

James made a face. "Abby, I'm not really that old--"

"I'm pregnant." There, she not only just blurted it, she had interrupted him while blurting it. Bomb's away.

The ritual of the toast abandoned, James' hand trembled slightly as he lowered his glass to rest lightly on his knee. "Ah," he began softly, "so that's what you meant." He was looking her right in the eyes. It was too much for Abby, who worried she would see that disappointed look she hated so much. She glanced down to study the dust on the toes of her boots. She knew she should say something but didn't know what was best. An apology? An explanation?

She decided on the apology. Abby looked up to again meet her father's eyes and saw that he was smiling. "You're sure?" he asked before she could say anything.

"Yes," she answered. "I am experiencing many of the typical symptoms: persistent nausea, tender briasts, heightened sense of smell, aversions to food and drink." She emphasized the last point by narrowing her eyes at her father's liquor glass. "Then, there's the classic: I haven't had a period in two months." Abby chuckled nervously. Vocalizing all of it had made it feel cripplingly real. Her stomach suddenly felt very tight.

"That's my girl," he mumbled with a smile. "Where did you find medical texts?"

Abby shrugged, again. "All over the place. I copied them all to my Pip Boy, even if I wasn't using the information right away."

James took a sip of his drink and switched back to the topic at hand. He had gone into doctor mode, something she was very familiar with. "How far along do you think you are?"

"Eight, maybe nine weeks? Maybe more?" She sighed. "I've always had an irregular cycle." All the more reason to have tried to be more careful, she scolded herself, but it's too late to do anything about that now.

He nodded, gazing up at the sky, deep in thought. "When did the nausea start?"

"In the past day or so."

"Mm." James looked back at Abby. "If it's been two months without a period and you're starting to experience what they still call 'morning sickness', then eight or nine weeks is probably right."

"Okay."

"Do you know who the father is?"

"Dad!" she exclaimed, genuinely shocked at the implication.

James raised his hands in his defense. "Okay, all right, I should know better."

"Yes, you should!" Abby readjusted herself on her seat, her feathers most definitely ruffled.

"I'm sorry for suggesting otherwise. I had to ask, it's my job." He drank what was left in his glass, poured a little more, and set the glass on the ground. "Come here," he beckoned her, with his arms open. The Doctor had turned back into the Father. Abby snuggled up to him underneath his arm, like she used to when she was small and had woken from a bad dream. They sat quietly for a moment. "Are you going to tell me who he is?"

Abby took a breath. That was something she hadn't even thought about. "No," she answered quietly after thinking it over. "It doesn't matter. He doesn't know. We parted ways before I had more symptoms."

"I'm sorry, sweetheart." James kissed her on the top of her head and hugged her close. "Please, just tell me it isn't Three Dog."

Abby burst out laughing. "Three Dog?" The mental image of that was far too funny. It hadn't taken her long to figure out that Mr. Dog wasn't really into women in that capacity.

"I'll take that as a 'no'," he replied seriously. "That man just loves to hear himself talk, it's no wonder he took to the airwaves. I couldn't stand it."

"Really? He said you two had a most wonderful time together."

"He would," James added. "His idea of a good time is to drink and talk." Abby knew that to be true and nodded. "So, my dear Abby, all the more reason to finish Project Purity."

"Mmhmm."

"In the meantime, it's nothing but purified water for you! No irradiated Cola and definitely no alcohol." The Doctor had re-emerged. Abby used to hate how he would flip back and forth between being the objective medical person and concerned parent, but her heart melted a bit then when she realized she had actually missed it.

"Don't worry about that," she assured him. "It's all I can do not to throw up smelling that swill in your glass, and no matter how hard I try, I can't make myself drink that pop." She had set down the open Cola bottle nearly as soon as she had opened it.

James chuckled. "Just like your mother." Whatever he meant, he didn't specify. He took a breath and suddenly appeared to be very thoughtful. "Funny how that works," he mumbled absently.

Abby did not immediately reply. They were both well aware of what labour and delivery had done to her mother. "Is it normal to feel this scared?"

"Oh, honey," James sighed, hugging her again. "Of what?"

"Of all of it, dad." Her voice was very quiet, now. "I've got no clue about anything when it comes to babies." She shifted slightly, then continued. "I was kicked out of helping in the Vault nursery that one, and only time. The thought of just growing a living thing inside me is...really weird. Then, of course, there's the diapers, the milk, the sleepless nights, the thought of running from a Super Mutant with a baby screaming in a sling on my back..."

"You don't have to worry about that now, or ever." James patted her back gently and kissed her again on the top of her head. "After we get to Rivet City you are going to just stay there, relax, and let the rest of us take care of you, and Project Purity."

"That's ridiculous," Abby scoffed. "I can help you, dad, and I will." Giving up her new found role of altruistic mercenary hadn't occurred to her, and wasn't really an option she cared to consider.

"I won't put you in harm's way any longer than necessary. When I ever meet your mother again, I hope she doesn't torture me about it for all eternity."

"Daddy," Abby's turn to be serious, "it's unlikely that I won't be able to keep up this pace for at least one, probably two months, and maybe even three. Without the Brotherhood backing you, I'm your best hope for success."

"You do strongly resemble a one-man army." James had teased her nearly endlessly about how heavily armed and armoured she had become in her short jaunt in the Wasteland. Abby couldn't understand how anyone, after spending just an hour in the Wasteland, wouldn't ever do the same...including her father who, evidently, had lived the majority of his life outside the Vault.

"I'll take that as a compliment. Besides, you are not to tell anyone about this. Not a single one."

"Why not?"

Abby sighed. "I don't want any of them to think I will compromise the project. Doctor Li already doubts its plausible revival and I don't want her to have any more excuses to hate me."

"I strongly doubt that Madison hates you, my dear," James laughed.

Abby sat up and gave her father a grave look. "Trust me on that one. It was I that took you away from her all those years ago, not mother."

Before James could answer, an explosion could be heard about a hundred feet behind them, followed by the screams of a raider as he experienced a painful, mine-induced death. "What was that?"

"That was your confirmation that you need me," Abby replied with a wicked grin. In the blink of an eye, her assault rifle was out and ready. "You will want to get down, and watch your scotch," she suggested as she rose and turned to engage the enemy.




...AND THREE MORE

Leo's face lit right up the moment he saw it was Abby who had walked into The Brass Lantern. "Hello there," he greeted her warmly.

"Hi," Abby replied, smiling but a little unsure of herself.

"Can I get you a drink?"

"No, thanks." Ironically, Abby wasn't feeling thirsty. "How've you been?"

"Can't complain." He stepped out from behind the bar and motioned for her to sit down at one of the small, empty tables along the wall. Abby followed his gesture and sat down. "It's really, really good to see you."

"Likewise." Despite their messy, dramatic break up, Abby still cared about Leo quite a bit. She didn't bother to wait for him to ask the next question, because she knew what it would be. "It's all over."

"Really?" he breathed. He appeared to be surprised, though satisfied, with her statement.

Abby nodded. "Of course, not before there was a hell of a lot of drama."

--

Abby laid on the bunk the Brotherhood of Steel so graciously allowed her to use after the ordeal with the Enclave ambush at the Jefferson Memorial. Her pillow was absolutely soaked with tears and her eyes and nose felt raw from crying. It had been barely thirty-six hours after her and her father's last campfire, and yet everything had been turned completely upside down: her father, martyred for their escape; scrambling through the tunnels; Doctor Li demanding entrance to the Citadel. How was she expected to go on, after all that had happened? How in the world could she have this child without his guidance and support?

Elder Lyons had extended her hospitality for as long as she needed it. Abby wasn't entirely sure what she thought of the Brotherhood of Steel. They were stuffy, and even though Lyons had insisted that his part of the faction were in fact deviants from their true creed, they were sure as hell stuck in their ways. At least they were loyal, and though she hated to admit it, her father had made a great impression upon them, and the entire place deeply respected him. As such, particularly Elder Lyons and Star Paladin Cross, seemed willing to bend to her every whim.

"James is gone." Li's voice was soaked in emotion for the first time that Abby had heard. The words played over and over in her mind, haunting her every waking moment, and nearly every time making her want to just crawl into the corner with her 10mm and shut it up, permanently. She wouldn't, though. Her father had worked too hard and long for her to just can the Project, especially now that she knew how to get it running for sure.

A sudden pain in her abdomen shook her out of...had she dozed off? Perhaps she had. She checked the time on her Pip Boy and did a quick mental calculation. She hadn't eaten for nearly four days. Abby wasn't a stranger to skipping meals for days on end, but she wondered if "eating for two" was more than just a saying. She wiped the remnants of tears from her eyes with the palms of her hands, rolled over and was about to step off the edge of the bed when the pain intensified so much, it caused her leg to buckle. She cried out in pain as her face smashed into the cold, concrete floor and laid there for a moment, groaning.

A moment or two passed, and the cramps came in waves of intense pain. She laid on the floor, hunched, clutching her stomach. What the hell is going on? What's happening? Abby panted and had begun to sweat. The pain was mainly concentrated in her abdomen but occasionally radiated to her back. Fresh tears escaped from her eyes as she lay there, trembling, reduced to a whimpering sack of self-pity. How is this so terrible? I've been shot, for God's sake, and never hurt so bad!

Abby forced herself to breathe in and out very slowly in an attempt to collect some mental focus. She raised her left arm and was about to scroll through the seemingly endless medical archives she had stored in her Pip Boy during her travels, because it had become quite clear that these were not hunger pains. Just as another cramp was set to squeeze her mid-section in a vice, there was a tap at the door.

"Knock, knock," chirped a female voice. Abby could hear the door opening. "Can I come in?"

You just did, Abby thought bitterly. Dammit, Sarah, what the [censored] do you want?

Sarah Lyons stepped into the room. "It's been a couple days and I haven't seen you in the mess hall, I thought maybe you'd like some company for br-- oh my God!" The fact that Abby was lying on the floor, doubled over in pain, sweating and crying, finally seemed to tell to Sarah that something was amiss. She rushed over and knelt behind Abby. "What happened?! What's wrong?!"

"I'm fine," Abby growled through clenched teeth. She winced as the pain intensified yet again. "Please, just --"

"You're bleeding!" Sarah exclaimed, horrified. "I'm going to go get some help." She stood and made to leave the room.

Bleeding? Oh...oh, [censored]. There's my answer. "No! Wait!! STOP!" Abby hollered after her. In the distraction of the terrible pain she was experiencing, somehow she hadn't noticed that she were bleeding. "Sarah, please, don't...don't -- augh!" She interrupted herself as groaned in pain again.

Sarah returned to Abby's side and furrowed her brow. "Abby, what is going on? You're obviously in tremendous pain and need medical attention."

Abby panted, and motioned for Sarah to come close. When she leaned in, Abby struck up some sudden strength and grabbed her collar. "What I am about to tell you, you cannot repeat to anyone else," she hissed.

Sarah blinked, surprised by Abby's display of force, but nodded. "Okay," she replied.

"I am not joking," Abby continued. She pulled Sarah a little closer to her face. "You cannot breathe a word of this to anyone. Anyone! Swear it on your oath!"

"I swear it on the crest of my Pride," she replied hastily. "What's wrong with you?"

Another set of cramps rocked Abby's body, causing her to release Sarah reflexively and sob a few times. Perhaps it was a blessing that Sarah let herself in, because Abby's strength was running out fast. When the intensity passed, she looked into Sarah's face again. "I'm having a miscarriage," she told her, panting, with a pained look on her face.

Sarah's face told of her shock before she spoke. "You're...pregnant!"

"I was," Abby spat. "Are you going to help me or not?" She wiped some sweat and hair off her brow with the back of her hand.

"Yes, of course," Sarah had snapped out of her surprise. Without prompting, she stood up, rummaged around in the locker at the foot of Abby's bunk, and pulled out a couple shirts. She disappeared from Abby's line of vision, and so Abby chose to focus on breathing and trying to calm herself between attacks. Sarah came back with one of the shirts, soaked in cold water, and folded so that she could tie it around Abby's forehead.

Abby breathed a sigh of relief. Such a simple cold compress made a huge difference. "Find a medic," she spoke, slightly more calm than before. "Make sure it is one of yours. You must not, and I am serious, you must not tell a thing to Madison Li. Understood?"

"I understand your request, if not your reasoning."

"Tell the medic to bring some oxytocin." Who was Abby kidding? As if they'd have any, but it was worth a shot. She cringed as another cramp set in, and a couple of sobs escaped her lips.

Sarah ran.

--

"Jesus Christ, Abby," Leo sighed. He reached out and took both her hands in both of his. "So much loss, and in such a short amount of time." He squeezed.

She squeezed back and sighed as well. "It was a hard week, that's for sure."

"You pulled through, obviously."

Abby nodded. "Sarah kept to her word, and the days I spent recovering could be explained off as simply, I was grieving in isolation." Her eyes flicked up to meet his briefly. "The baby..."

Leo's turn to nod. "I figured."

Abby let out a breath but said nothing more for a moment.

"Need a drink?"

Despite the amount of talking, she still didn't feel thirsty. "No, I'm all right, thanks." She licked her lips and took another breath.

--

A switch had flipped in Abby, and not for good. To symbolize the intense grieving she was experiencing, she dyed her hair night black, and tied a strip of black fabric onto the outside of her armour, on her left arm. She became cold and far more distant from everyone she associated with. She focused on completing the Project, and it only. She continued to meet others from the wastes, people with sob stories and dire circumstances they're unable to resolve themselves. Abby stopped doing these favours, feeling bitter and jaded. All that her father had ever done was work to make others' lives better, and he got a horrible death, no thanks, and the Enclave stealing his life's work.

She only worked for explicit pay, after that, and only if it wasn't out of her way to help. Abby could tell that her demands came as a surprise to many people, and her reputation preceded her even on the westernmost end of the Capital Wasteland. Person after person was disappointed in her refusal to help out of the goodness of her own heart, and when they couldn't pay her what she figured was enough for her trouble, she moved on. She surprised herself at how quickly she discovered her destinations when she wasn't off in twenty directions all the time.

Abby couldn't convince that mouthy MacCready to just let her through Little Lamplight and found herself forced into a trip to Paradise Falls. She used to be so charismatic and absolutely charming, but with her change of attitude she wasn't able to keep her general disinterest in wastelanders, and their affairs, from affecting how she interacted with people. Her impatience always came through and drove every conversation, but rarely in her favour.

The idea of having to even go near the slavers' headquarters made her feel uneasy. Abby had routinely avoided the headquarters of debauchery in the Capital Wasteland, simply not wanting to get involved, but she no longer had any choice. She took a deep breath as she came up the path to the sentries outside Paradise Falls. She nodded to Grouse and kept walking, but halted the moment she felt the barrel of a gun sticking into her side.

"Where the [censored] do you think you're going?" Grouse demanded.

Abby furrowed her brow. "Inside, [censored]."

He chuckled. "Cheeky [censored]!" Grouse retracted his Chinese assault rifle. "Did you think we let just anyone waltz on in to Paradise Falls?"

She did not reply.

"Now," he continued, leaning back in his chair with his hands behind his head, "what is the goody two-shoes [censored] from Vault 101 even doing here? This place isn't exactly your cup of tea."

"I have business here," she replied shortly.

"I'm sure you do," Grouse smirked, unconvinced. "Sadly for you, we don't do business with bleeding hearts. Unless..."

Abby breathed in and out. The catch. "What is it?"

"Unless you do a little bit of work for me."

"No deal." The thought of catching slaves in order to fulfill her father's goals would never sit well with her, and she certainly wouldn't drag James' legacy down with such a thing, either.

"Then no entry," Grouse shrugged, just like that. He leaned forward in his chair and picked up his rifle once again. "I suggest you be on your way."

"No," Abby said again. "I have some business to attend to, and I want in." Come on, Abby, dig up some charm. She desperately attempted a seductive smile and leaned forward, setting her elbows on the dirty table in front of him. "Can't you think of something?"

Grouse's eyes flickered and he gave her a suspicious look. "I said, no. I can't just let you in, especially with your reputation. How do I know you won't go in there and blow us all to kingdom come?" He shook his head. "I need a bit more than your word, if you catch my drift."

Abby paused. The man was either asking for a bribe, or a blow job, or maybe even both. She could work with this. Smiling a wicked smile, she licked her lips and casually drew a fingertip in a random pattern along the surface of the table. "Is the handsome man looking for a certain favour?" she purred. Leaning forward, she stuck her hip out just so. Her heart was in her throat and she hoped beyond hope that Grouse couldn't tell.

Grouse flicked an eyebrow. "I see you are finally ready to negotiate."

"You're a tough nut to crack," she replied in a cool voice, tilting her head to the side. "Or, perhaps, that is something you'd like me to find out?" Abby's stomach dropped and she gave her ass a mental kick. It's time to stop feeling. There's nothing left for you now but survival. Suddenly, a surge of very cruel intentions flooded her mind. She drew on these dark thoughts for strength. Her mind was set.

"That's an avenue of possibility. Drop all your weapons." He waved her around the table. Abby's heart was beating a mile a minute. She dropped her pack and assault rifle -- the only firearm she carried nowadays -- and walked around to the other side. "In fact, it gives rise to the opportunity for an audition." He grinned sheepishly at his own pun.

Boner jokes. Hilarious. She giggled, sounding far more natural than was genuine. "Just one request," she began, settling herself in front of him onto his lap. Abby made a quick nod towards the second sentry, sitting approximately ten feet away behind Grouse and to his right. "Tell him to get lost."

"No."

"I'll swallow."

"Clarkson!" Grouse hollered, keeping a close eye on Abby. "[censored] off for a minute." Suddenly, he winked, making her skin crawl. "Actually, make it ten."

Abby watched the man addressed as Clarkson stand and shuffle away, turning a bend in the path to what she could only assume to be the gate leading inside the compound. "Don't worry," she cooed, "I won't bite."

"Damn right you won't," he replied gruffly. "Don't bother trying anything funny either, because he isn't far and will come out shooting if he hears a gunshot."

"Are you that loud?"

Grouse laughed. "I am going to brag about this so hard, and no one will believe me, but I don't [censored] care."

Abby got to work at unbuckling his trousers. The more lewd the conversation became, the more uncomfortable she felt. Grouse raised his arms up behind his head once more but continued to watch her carefully. She kept her facial expression as neutral as possible while she plunged her hands into the sweaty darkness that was his drawers. She closed her right hand into a tight fist around that most important part of his male anatomy.

"What are you --" he interrupted himself with a gasp of surprise, and pain.

Months ago, Abby chanced upon a copy of Pugilism Illustrated. She curiously perused the pages and discovered an old dirty boxing trick -- hiding a slim, but extremely sharp, razor blade inside the finger of a glove. The blade was tucked away in such a fashion that it didn't harm or maim the wearer, but would pop out with a certain subtle flick. The result often was the badly cut up and heavily bleeding face of the opponent. It took her a while to find a blade she could whittle down small enough, and retain sharp, but she fashioned herself one such glove mainly as a test of her ability to modify and repair weapons.

She hadn't really had a need to use it until that day she had convinced Grouse he was in for a good time. Abby smiled. "I'm earning my way in, isn't that what you had wanted?" It was awkward, having to hold her hand a certain way so the blade peeked out of the glove just enough to poke, but she managed it.

Grouse gasped again. "You insufferable [censored]!"

"That's no way to speak to a lady," she shook her head. Abby began to speak in a very cool, but very serious voice. "I'm going in, and that's that. If you try to sabotage me while I'm in there, I will squeal to Eulogy Jones that you have a plan to overthrow him and that you told me all about it while I [censored] you just to gain entrance." Finally, she smirked, unable to contain herself. "I do believe I've got you by the balls."

"Like hell you do," he growled. Grouse reached down for his rifle yet again but Abby wasn't taking chances. She drew her hand in such a way that she cut, her hand suddenly becoming wet and warm from his blood. He howled out in pain and Abby suddenly panicked, remembering Clarkson nearby. She jammed her left fist into his mouth and while he crumpled forward, she took her right hand out of his pants and again used the small blade to slash the left side of his neck. Grouse gurgled and continued to lurch forward. Abby was unable to find footing and was suddenly sprawled onto her back beneath that horrible table, dust puffing up around her, and the dead man bleeding freely all over her.

She gagged as the combination of the smell of blood, stale booze, body odour, and gun oil suffocated her. Abby flailed and scrambled to get Grouse's body off of her, keeping Clarkson's return high in her mind. She leaned over the barricade and snatched up her pack, hastily searching for the frag mine she knew was in there.

She found it. As quickly as she could, she knelt and dug out a small crevice underneath Grouse's chair and placed the mine inside. Choking on the dust that she had svcked into her mouth, she yanked Grouse up and propped him back up in his chair. He was still bleeding. Gotta love the old, faithful jugular. Abby took his rifle and placed it between his legs, anchoring it in the dirt so that it would help keep him from sliding forward off the chair. She crossed his arms around the gun and for good measure, placed a sand bag in his lap. Lastly, she dipped down to arm the mine, cover it in dirt, and high-tailed it away to watch from a safe, and discreet, distance.

Abby ducked behind a pile of rocks and felt herself coming down off the adrenaline. She rubbed her face and felt the grit of dust and dried blood beneath her fingertips. When she looked down, her shoulders slumped as she realized Grouse had bled all over her armour. Dust had clung to it as though it were glue.

She couldn't very well march into Paradise Falls like that. She also realized the irony of having forgotten she had a knife strapped to her leg the entire time. Too late to worry about that, now. Abby discarded the armour and slipped into simple merc grunts. Maybe it will help me blend in, anyways. She peeked back over the rocks and noticed Clarkson had finally returned to his post. She took a breath as she watched the man stand next to his chair, light up a cigarette, and appear to speak. It didn't take him long to realize that Grouse wasn't answering him. He had a total of three seconds to feel horrified at finding Grouse slumped in his chair, dead, his blood a sticky pool in the dust, before her planted mine went off and blew them both into chunks of human flesh, blood, and bone.

It was time. Abby considered for a long moment and decided to take off her Pip Boy and bury it next to her armour. She'd retrieve it later, but for now, better to not walk around with such a distinct piece of technology attached to her wrist. What she wasn't expecting was the stark tan lines left behind after its removal. She wrapped the black fabric she had had tied to her armour around her wrist and hoped it would keep people from looking too closely at her. She picked up her pack and, satisfied that no one was going to investigate the explosion -- surely they'd have come out by now -- she strolled towards the gate.

I own this [censored] Wasteland, she thought smugly to herself as she passed the small crater that had been two men. I am not a queen, nor an empress, but a god!

Abby stepped through the gates to Paradise Falls and took a slow look around. Despite being an open air settlement, like most in the Capital Wasteland, it had a distinct atmosphere that wasn't present anywhere else. Smoke, booze, puke and blood were the most distinct aromas in the air. There was quite a bit of activity: other slavers milling around, some sitting around gambling, others standing around drinking. They were all armed. She glanced up to take in a guard on a makeshift tower. Perhaps she should have at least faked a tattoo...

A group had encircled what Abby would guess to be some new slaves and were jeering at and taunting them. One was a young looking man, holding his left elbow and toeing the dirt, ignoring the insults. Another was a girl, younger than Abby, openly sobbing and rubbing what looked like lash marks on her exposed backside. A third, another female, swayed and trembled and slowly turned around on the spot, looking very scared. Abby steeled herself to the sight. All her [censored] about not caring about Wastelanders had disappeared when she saw the dirty skin, matted hair, and stained and ripped clothing of these people who simply had the misfortune to be taken advantage of by others looking to make a little money.

"Why hello there, you foxy thing," came a man's voice from beside Abby. She jumped, startled, wondering how she couldn't have noticed that he had shimmied up to her so close. The man was middle aged, tall, and had a beer gut that stuck out from beneath his leather armour. He grinned once she made eye contact and spoke again. "Did it hurt?"

"Par-what?" she said, correcting herself quickly. Her cover would be blown if she didn't at least try to sound like one of them. "Did what hurt?"

"When you fell to Earth from heaven," he replied.

Inwardly, she groaned. Instead, she laughed, and winked. "You're out of luck, because I didn't fall from no heaven, I clawed my way up from hell!"

It was the man's turn to laugh. "What's yer name, gorgeous?"

[censored]. Abby prayed her face didn't betray the sudden nervousness she felt. "Vixen," she replied, using the fox theme for inspiration. "You?"

"Ark. New here, eh?"

Abby shrugged. "First time for everything. Got a tip on some kids what were brought in and I want 'em." She tilted her head to try and look cute and innocently curious. "Know if they're still here?"

Ark nodded. "Sure are, they're in the pens at the back. Eulogy has them priced out as premium so they won't go all that fast." He smirked. "What's a fine young girl like you needing with child slaves?"

"Aha," she began in a low voice. She stretched up on her tip toes and gently touched the man's chest. "I only look like an angel. Don't forget!" With that, she pecked Ark on the lips, released him, winked, and walked off. She heard him chuckle but did not hear him follow. Abby's chest felt tight. If she had to seduce one more of these deplorable [censored]s, she worried it would drive her to suicide.

Abby pushed open the doors to Eulogy Jones' place. It was dark inside, and the smell of Abraxo detergent stifled and surprised her. Despite his penchant for cleaning, glowing green fungi could be seen growing in the darkest of the corners. Music was playing from somewhere, warbling through the building. She heard some voices from deeper inside and stepped through the foyer into the main room. She raised an eyebrow at the heart shaped bed and projector propped on a table, showing some obscene film on the far wall. The boys in the Vault used to giggle and fantasize about the rumoured "nudie reels", but she wasn't sure if any of them had ever actually seen one. Abby felt her stomach drop as the naked woman on screen was about to do something to herself with a peeled carrot and quickly passed through the room, feeling flushed and embarrassed.

Eulogy Jones had just come down his staircase. Abby nearly plowed straight into him. "Whoa, hey now, watch the suit," he grumbled.

Abby didn't mince words. "I want those kids."

"Hello, I'm Eulogy Jones," he replied. "Who the [censored] are you?"

"Vixen," she repeated. "I've got caps."

Eulogy eyed her carefully. Abby flicked her gaze up the stairs to see two women, dressed identically, standing a few feet behind him. They wore slave collars and remained silent. She brought her eyes back down to look at Eulogy. "Never heard of you," he said, "but Grouse let you in so I don't really care. Those kids ain't cheap. Which one do you want?"

Abby pursed her lips. "All of them."

Eulogy barked laughter. One of his slave bodyguards tittered as well. "You don't look like you can afford it, but since when do I care about what someone looks like." Despite his words, he seemed to continue to study her, up and down.

She placed a hand on her hip and threw her head back slightly. "How much?"

"Four thousand, flat." The response was instant. He leered a funny little smile. "What do you want 'em for? They're stupid, but stubborn, they'll take a lot of breaking in."

Abby tried as hard as she could to sound like she casually negotiated for slaves every day. "I have a lonely bed," she said, hoping her face didn't show how sick she felt at that very thought. "Thirty-two hundred."

"Thirty-eight." Eulogy crossed his arms.

She narrowed her eyes. "They look skinny, I highly doubt you've been feeding them all that well." Abby shook her head. "You just admitted that they're stupid, too, which doesn't make them worth that much either, even all together." She tried to appear as though she were re-evaluating her offer to include these observations of hers. "Thirty-four."

Eulogy licked his lips. "Is 'at your final offer?" he asked after a pause.

Abby looked him in the eye but did not reply, her face expressionless.

"Deal!" he exclaimed. "Let's go release your merchandise, shall we?" He motioned towards the front doors. Abby followed. As they walked towards the slave pens, Eulogy explained to her how to use their slave collars, and gave her the run down about how there were no refunds, payment was required up front, and thanked her very much for the sale. She placed a pouch of substantial size into the man's hand and dreaded the thought that he might count each cap, one by one. Instead, he placed the pouch onto a weigh scale and determined that the weight was correct. Abby estimated there were closer to thirty-five hundred in that pouch, but she didn't care. She wanted to get the kids out and be done with this [censored] hole.

"Stay close," she sneered at the kids, "don't get in anyone's way and don't piss me off." Abby glowered at them, slowly running out of steam for this character of hers, and began to lead them towards the gate. She passed by the bar and restaurant area where she saw Ark was drinking a beer and watching her. Abby blew him a kiss and waved, wagging her fingers up and down on a closed hand. She heard him laugh and raise her beer towards her.

They passed the guard tower. She wanted to bolt for the gate but didn't really want to cause a ruckus, and they were nearly out. One of the brats nattered incessantly, question after question. Abby gave him one word answers, when she chose to speak to him at all.

Suddenly, a man burst through the gate, shouting. He was carrying what appeared to be the remains of a Chinese assault rifle. Abby's eyes widened but quickly relaxed her shoulders and hoped no one noticed the short blip in her character. The shouting caused others to gather towards the gate area as well. Abby slowed and managed to grab all three kids by the collars of their shirts. They looked up at her, their grubby faces shining in the twilight. The sun was beginning to go down. She leaned over slightly. "Do exactly, and I mean, exactly, what I say," she hissed. Penny nodded, Squirrel blinked, and Sammy whimpered. Promising lot we've got, here, she thought sarcastically to herself.

"Calm down, Derrick," barked one of the slavers that had approached the man who was yelling at the gate. "What the [censored] are you on about, Grouse is dead? That's probably impossible."

"He's gone, just gone, in bits and pieces, I swear to you!" The man named Derrick brandished the broken rifle above his head. "This is his gun!"

"Who off'ed him, then?" asked a different voice. "Some passer-by?"

"Nah," a fourth voice, a woman. "Grouse was [censored] badass. Some waste-rat wouldn't stand a chance."

Abby continued to slowly ease her way towards the gate during the debate. She had just passed the doors to the barracks. The children shuffled along.

"It was probably the last person to come in here." A fifth voice. There was a group of nearly a dozen people milling in front of the gates, now. Abby was starting to feel nervous.

"Forty," breathed Sammy.

"How do you figure?" the third voice again.

The man called Forty replied. "Erica's right," he shrugged, "ain't no way some mutant rat or wasteland trash could just wipe Grouse out like that. Nah, he was plain murdered, and I know who came in last." He took a drag on his cigarette and looked around at the crowd.

Abby finally recognized him as the man who was standing on the outside of the front gate. She hadn't realized that he may have taken a good look at her. She swallowed, hard, her throat suddenly very dry. He hadn't spotted her on the outside of the crowd just yet. "Time to go, kiddies," she instructed in a very low voice. "Run, and run now."

Sammy looked up at her with a very confused look on his face. "Wha?"

"Get lost!"

Squirrel rubbed his eyes. All three kids looked exhausted. "Where are we supposed to go?" he whined.

Abby grit her teeth. "I don't [censored] care where you go. Why don't you go crawl into some cave," she paused for extra emphasis, "or something." She scanned their faces and locked eyes with Penny. The girl had her mouth shut and understanding shone in her eyes, while the boys still looked confused. Figures, if you want something done right...

Penny gently tugged on Sammy's sleeve. "You heard the lady, let's move." She mouthed 'thank you' to Abby in an exaggerated fashion.

"Run," Abby repeated, swatting at them with her hand.

The slaver crowd was starting to become unsettled. They were shuffling around and she saw Forty was looking at her. Abby wondered if she should even try to lie about Grouse.

"That's her," Forty grinned, jabbing his finger in her direction. Instantly, the now two dozen and more slavers turned their heads. They were all jumbled in front of the gates. The kids would be able to dart through the mass, but Abby wouldn't be able to be so lucky.

I left my armour outside...why? She figured she would try to play dumb. "What?" she asked, leering at the crowd. "What's going on?" Abby raised her hands in Leo's famous halting gesture. "I paid in full for those kids, ask Eulogy."

"Did you murder Grouse?" Erica demanded.

Abby blinked. "What? Who?"

"The man way out front," replied Derrick, again waving the rifle remnant. "This was his gun," he repeated.

She placed a hand on her hip and waved her other hand dismissively. "There weren't no man sitting out front when I came in, I don't know what you're talking about."

The crowd had started to advance, with Forty in front. "Liar. You were so guilty when you walked by me you didn't even know I was standing there, did ya?"

Abby was beginning to feel flustered. She hadn't carried in hardly any of her weapons, only her assault rifle and her knife, and all of them against her with no armour, chems, or Stimpaks, she'd be left with more holes than a sieve. "He tried to [censored] me," she replied. "Any of yous would have defended yourselves."

"There's no more body," Derrick shrieked, "just a black hole and bits!"

"Give it up, sweet cheeks," Forty added, now brandishing his own Chinese assault rifle. Abby's hands dropped to her sides as she searched her mind for some way to grab her gun and not be blown to pieces before she could even ready it.

Just then, in a stroke of pure chance, a slaver barged out of the barracks, completely oblivious to the goings on outside. The sun had just set and darkness was filling the sky. Abby jerked into action, whipping herself behind the man. He hollered out in surprise as Forty and a couple others began shooting. Her human shield had some grenades strapped to the back of his belt. Abby had a fist full of the man's merc troublemaker's garb, trying to keep him steady as he jostled about, slowly filling up with lead. The smell of blood and metal began to fill the air and bullets rattled past her into the wall with a fatal pitter-patter sound. There was no way she could take all of them but she hoped to scatter and confuse most of them long enough to get out the gate.

She yanked a pin out of a grenade with her teeth and clumsily rolled it out in front of her.

"GRENADE!" Forty bellowed. The gunfire mostly ceased as the slavers yelled and scrambled to get out of its way. Abby hadn't tossed it hard enough -- or, perhaps, someone had kicked it back -- and when it finally exploded, she and her human shield were thrown backwards. Her body was slammed into the base of the wall of the barracks and the full weight of her slaver sacrifice crushed her right leg.

"Oh Jesus holy [censored] oh God," she cursed. Her entire leg was engulfed in fiery pain. Abby panted hard in an attempt to steady herself and think more clearly. Her head was splitting -- she probably had a concussion. Her dislocated left shoulder made it hard and very painful to move her arm. She took another one of the salvaged grenades, popped out its pin, and tossed it towards the crowd that was re-forming since the dust was settling. She pulled her leg out and screamed at the sound and feeling of her snapping bones and dragged herself over to where an empty steel barrel was standing in the corner, but not before relieving the dead man of his last grenade, and .32 pistol. She tipped the barrel over in front of her and heard gunfire begin to ping off of its surface as she crawled into the triangular space it created between it and the corner.

Abby was sweating freely. She raised her right hand to wipe the sweat off her forehead and when it came away she realized she were bleeding. She clenched her teeth and ripped her assault rifle, somehow still intact, off her back. Bullets continued to hit the steel drum. Gotta take out the tower guard. Abby reached for the pistol, her fingers slippery with sweat, when she realized the gunfire had stopped and heard footsteps quickly approaching.

Three faces suddenly appeared on the other side of the drum. Abby used her right hand to spray rifle shot across them, yelling insanely. Hair, bone, and droplets of blood rained onto her as the slavers screeched before they fell. She breathed heavily as she yanked out the pin of the last grenade and lobbed it over the drum. She heard some slavers yell again but did not hear the grenade land before exploding. [censored] tower guard!

Forcing herself to lean on her left elbow, Abby stretched her neck up just enough to see over the barrel. Night had fallen, now, and there weren't too many lights, though the tower guard probably had the best vantage point, still. She cocked the pistol and aimed as carefully as she could, hoping the fact that her hair was pitch black would keep her from being noticed. A bullet clipped her ear, causing it to sting and bleed. Squinting, she could make out the guard's legs on top of the tower. Abby emptied the clip. As luck would have it, one of the bullets managed to hit him. She heard a cry of pain and watched as the man lost his balance and fell down to the ground, landing with a sickening crack and thud.

She chanced a glance around before ducking her head back down again. Her elbow slipped and her upper body crashed back onto her injured shoulder, initiating another eruption of pain and a cry from her lips. Most of the slavers who were so keen on seeking revenge for Grouse had either died, retreated with injuries, or given up. Abby had assumed the entire place would come down on her head and it was not appearing to be the case. Be that as it may, escape seemed intangible.

Some gunfire rang off the barrel once more. Abby chucked the empty pistol away. Her shirt was sticking to her body quite uncomfortably and her leg was in tremendous pain. Her mind raced in a hundred directions and yet none of them landed on a solution that would be able to get her out of here. She reached up and fired her rifle blindly, changed the clip, and fired again. Cries of pain and fewer return shots indicated to her that she was at least keeping them at bay.

Once again, the gunfire had stopped. She propped up her assault rifle, unable to find the strength to sit back up, as a single set of footsteps approached. Forty peered his ugly, grinning face over the barrel. Abby dug her left heel into the ground and pushed in an attempt to prop herself up against the wall, but only managed to cram herself into the corner.

Forty looked her up and down. "Awwww, poor widdle fing," he cooed in a mocking tone.

Abby's nostrils flared but she did not reply. Her head continued to pound and was starting to swim. Her rifle shook slightly under her trembling hand.

"Not so hot now, are ya? Wish you never messed with us, I bet." He looked her over again, and whistled. "You are in pretty bad shape. How are you ever going to get to the gate?"

"I'll crawl over every single one of your dead bodies if I have to," she snarled through clenched jaws.

"I should put you down like the crippled [censored] you are." He leveled his rifle to aim at her face, chewing his lip as he did so.

A shotgun blast rang out, and in an instant, half of Forty's head had turned into a hundred bloody bits. Abby cried out in surprise as Forty's body fell from her view.

"Bad day, love?" called a familiar, heavily accented voice.

Calvin.

Abby nearly cried as his face appeared on the other side of the barrel. Suddenly, with a metallic groan, it was pushed to the side as Calvin kicked it away. Her body shook as she attempted to sit, and eventually stand, on her own, but the effort was too great. Calvin reached down and helped her stand on her good leg, draping her right arm around his shoulders. The other slavers milled about, unsure what to make of the developing situation, and lost without Forty.

"Why are you helping me?" she asked as he half-dragged her towards the gate. She noticed Derrick had had his arm blown right off, and Erica was face down in the dust.

"I owed you one. Besides," he looked at her, then, and winked, "I never did like that bastard Grouse. Thought it was funny to call me a 'Limey [censored]'. I thought about sticking a knife into his side more than once."

Dizziness was beginning to set in, and Abby had the strong feeling of wanting to go to sleep. She fought it, though, and as the gate continued to come closer, she clung to the idea of freedom to keep her going. The slavers seemed to be organizing themselves again and were approaching. "They're not going to be very happy with you," she murmured.

Calvin did not reply. He stopped at the gate and gently lifted her arm off his shoulders. Calvin reached into a pocket and placed a Stimpak into her hand. "There you are, sweetheart. I think that makes us even, now."

Abby stared absently at the Stimpak in her head. The other slavers were starting to yell and ready their loaded guns. "They'll crucify you," she said in a low, serious voice. "You should just come with me."

He laughed, then, as beautiful a sound as she remembered. "No, darling, the time for that has long passed."

Abby swayed. She was having trouble keeping her balance and entirely unable to put any weight on her right leg. Her mind went through a number of dialogue paths but she couldn't bring herself to vocalize any of them. "Are you sure?" was all she could muster.

Calvin winked. "Time to go." With a heavy shove, he forced Abby through the gate. She went sprawling onto the dust and rubble. Her ears were ringing and the urge to pass out ebbed up overwhelmingly.

With a quick jab, she injected the Stimpak into her broken leg. There was no way she'd be able to claw and drag herself away fast enough before the other slavers found her. It sounded like Calvin was holding his own but she knew he was just one man against an angry, merciless hoard. The wonder aid flowed into her joints and gave her the strength to use it well enough to hobble back to her pack. She collapsed behind the rocks, panting hard, sweating, bleeding, sobbing, and in particular agony.

Abby dug out her pack, first, and pulled out a bottle of Buffout. She crammed a handful of the capsules into her mouth, and dug out her armour. It seemed impossibly heavy to carry but she knew she'd want it later, and the Buffout was starting to kick in. She was still too close to Paradise Falls for comfort, so she picked up her pack and her armour,, clapped on a Stealth Boy, and struck out for Big Town. Red could patch her up enough for Abby to rest, at which point Abby would take care of the remaining medical attention she needed.

She didn't consider the irony of how, not one, but two people, she helped out with no intention of reciprocation, would play such a strong part in saving her life. By all rights, she should be dead.

The whole experience left her numb. She had left the Citadel feeling cold and bitter. Now, she felt nothing at all.

--

"Who was Calvin?" Leo asked.

Abby bit her lip. "Just someone I helped out, once. He was in rough shape and I healed him up."

"Mm." He leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. "What was that about, then, the 'come with me' [censored]?"

"Leo, please, I was merely trying to convince him not to get himself killed, to escape with me."

"You slept with him."

Abby broke eye contact. "I...well, I mean, it was...It didn't mean anything," she mumbled quietly. She sighed and looked him in the eye again. "I'm sorry."

Leo looked hurt, but he didn't yell or storm out. "These things happen, I guess."

She nodded but remained silent. Neither of them spoke for a time. Eventually, Leo reached out and squeezed her hands again, as he had earlier. "Look, it really doesn't matter now. Come on," he smiled, "tell me the rest."

--

The rest was mostly a blur. Abby withdrew even farther into herself and nothing surprised or affected her anymore. Vault 87 was full of Super Mutants? Oh well. They were using FEV to create more Super Mutants within the facility? Just another failed Vault experiment. The Enclave ambushed her, stole the GECK, imprisoned and interrogated her? So what, she escaped. The gunfire, bloodshed, sweat, tears, and dead bodies of Mutant and human alike were just the background noise.

The clearest thing she remembered was standing outside the purifier next to Sarah Lyons over the corpse of Colonel Autumn, and that [censored] Doctor Li barking over the intercom about how the intake was blocked and someone had to manually start the purifier.

"Someone has to get in there, NOW, and turn it on!" she screeched. Her voice was even more grating through the gravelly intercom.

Abby and Sarah exchanged a look. "Should we draw straws?" Sarah offered.

"Don't be stupid," Abby spat. "Open the door."

"What?"

Abby slammed her fist against the inner door, sealed shut. "I'll do it, I'll start it up."

Sarah blinked, dumbstruck.

"Sarah Lyons, open this [censored] door!" she hollered.

That seemed to do the trick. Sarah jerked into action. The outer door shut and the inner one opened, just as Madison yelled something else.

The air inside stung her lungs, and the radiation was incredible. The Geiger counter on her Pip Boy was ticking so quickly, the sound was almost continuous. Abby coughed as she stepped over the body of her dead father and stumbled towards the keypad.

"What the hell are you doing down there?" Li's voice rang out, like some vengeful god. "Turn it on now or the whole place is going to blow!"

Strength was rapidly draining from Abby's body. She muttered something about a piece of coal turning into a diamond with reference to Li's ass and jabbed a thumb into the keys: 2, 1, 6, ENTER.

The device surged to life. The entire structure shuddered tremendously and Abby's legs gave out. She fell backwards and her head hit the floor with a bang. She rolled over and could see Sarah pounding on the glass, mouthing something. Abby tried to smile.

She pulled herself over to where her father lay and rest her head on his decomposing chest. Tears escaped her eyes as her whole body continued to tingle hotly. "I did it, daddy," she whispered. Abby closed her eyes and tried to formulate her next thought. She had something else she wanted to say but the words wouldn't come.

All she could think was, I want to go

--

"..." Abby stopped talking. She looked into Leo's face as understanding finally set in.

"Want to go...?" he prompted.

"'Home'." Before Leo could say anything else, Abby rubbed her face with her hands and asked, though she knew the answer, "I'm not really in Megaton, am I?"

"No," he replied softly, with a small smile. Leo stood and came around to her side of the table. Abby remained seated but kept eye contact. It all made sense. She had no memory of the journey to Megaton, she just suddenly appeared outside the Brass Lantern.

"How did you die?"

"Hah," he chuckled. "The exact way you said I would." He extended his hand towards her. "Want to come upstairs?"

She did.

I like it. It has a very sad ending but it is extremely well written. Great first fanfic mate. :tops:

Holy tag blip, Batman...fixed it now.

Thanks, Kettle! I'm really glad you enjoyed the ending.

Wow Skirt. What was that bit you told me about being no good at writing action?

I really liked this. You breathed some real life into Leo, someone who I thought lacked personality in the game. Abby too was very human and very deep throughout and her conversation with James sounded so real. Excellent.

I agree with Kettle about the end - wrapped everything up perfectly – and made feel all somber. . .but in a satisfied way.

I demand you continue to nurture your natural talent! :happy: