» Mon May 02, 2011 2:39 am "Protector Casdin? This is Defender Morgan. Can you come out here for a minute, sir?"
"What is it, Defender?"
"There's a local here asking for you, sir. By name."
"Huh. Okay, I'll be right out."
When Casdin emerged from the building that his people had fortified and christened "Fort Independence," the girl was waiting for him at the front gate of the perimeter fence. She looked healthier and better armed than the typical Wastelander, if not much cleaner: she wore combat armor and an assault rifle was slung over her shoulder. A dog sat by her heels, tongue lolling out to taste the afternoon air as it watched him approach.
"I'm Protector Henry Casdin, leader of the Outcasts. This had better be good."
The local's bravado evaporated at those words. She tried to smile, failed, and settled for taking off her dark glasses and tucking them into her undershirt. "Hi. I... I'm Jessie." When that failed to produce any reaction from the man in black and red power armor, she went on. "You fought in the Scourge, twenty years ago."
"That's right," Casdin acknowledged, allowing himself a moment of pride at the memory. It had been a great victory for the Brotherhood, a demonstration of their superior equipment and training, back when they were still a united force... before Lyons and the others forgot why they'd been sent out here and turned their backs on the mission.
"You saved a woman from a [censored] gang. Her name was Lisa Harris." A beat. "She was my mother."
Jessie could see the exact moment when he put it all together. The armored Protector actually took a half-step back, as if he'd been struck. She gave him her most encouraging smile through the fence and waited for him to recover.
"What are you doing here?" he eventually asked.
"I came out here from the Pitt, looking for you. I asked at the Citadel and they sent me here. Mom... she died, a few months ago." Jessie sighed, bowing her head. "I'm sorry. I know this must be kind of a shock--"
"No, you don't know. You don't know anything." Casdin's voice was firm again as he cut her off. "Listen to me. What happened twenty years ago, between your mother and me, it... it was a mistake."
"A mistake?" Jessie stared at him, mouth hanging open a little in dismay and disbelief.
Casdin just nodded. "I'm not proud of it. I was young and excited, and probably drunk. And Lisa, she was very..." He abandoned that line of thought, falling back to a more secure position. "I never should have let myself get involved with a local woman. I knew we were moving on soon. I had a mission, hell, I still do."
"But I'm your daughter," Jessie protested, hooking her fingers into the links of the fence.
Casdin nodded again. "I know. But... look at me. Do I look like a man who has any room in his life for a child?" He stared at her through the fence and his visor, willing her to understand why it just wasn't possible. The silence stretched with the afternoon shadows.
At last she spoke again. "Take off your helmet."
"What?"
"I said take off your [censored] helmet," she snarled. "I didn't come all this way to leave without seeing my father's face. At least have the guts to look me in the eye when you tell me to go to hell."
There was another long pause, and then Henry Casdin reached up and undid the fastenings of his helmet. A faint hiss and pop could be heard as he broke the pressurized seal and lifted it off. The face that looked back at her was strong and square, with dark brows over deep-set eyes that had seen a lifetime of fighting. It did not look like a face that often smiled. She studied it intently, trying to memorize every detail and wrinkle.
"Happy?" Casdin finally asked, sounding very tired.
"Not really," Jessie replied. "But it'll have to do." She stepped back from the fence. "Goodbye, dad."
She turned and walked away, her dog following close behind, and never looked back.
