POV: FLW


Another criminal.

That's all I was, for some reason. Harkness never gave me a chance to prove that I wasn't hiding some deep dark secret, that I wasn't just pretending to be a justified hero. As soon as he saw me for the first time that morning in August, exhausted from the heat and bleeding in seventeen different places, he simply wrote me off as a fake, and kept moving.

After a couple weeks of staying in Rivet City, I finally got the nerve to walk up to him and ask him why he felt that way. I remember it perfectly, how insulting it was.

His features are drawn into an expression of disgust, as he looks me over like a dying centaur.

"It's because I've seen people like you before. People think you're a real hero because you save a life, and naturally, you start to like it. Then you start slipping up, because morals don't really mean anything to you anymore. You figure, 'I've already got the reputation. Whose to say I'm wrong if I kill a man who won't spit out the answers?' And soon enough, you become the saint with a million secrets."

He doesn't need to say more, and he knows it. Then he walks away, courteous enough to show off his righteous grin and cocky stride, and I never. Ever. Speak to him again.

When I was new to the city, it was always difficult to find my way around because the security chief had me labeled me as a lie, and for some reason, his thoughts are everyone else's thoughts. I was lucky to know Christie and her daughter, C.J., because otherwise, I would've strangled Harkness and everyone else on this entire ship - over the location of the bathroom - by now.

After my father died, and things picked up speed with Project Purity and the Enclave, people started to see me differently. They started to open up to me, wish me luck on my adventures, and pray for my safety. Soon, there was no one who believed in the label Harkness gave me. Except Harkness.

That served as a turning point in my life that I was truly grateful for.

You don't need anyone else's acceptance, Michella. Just know that you have mine, and your mother's, and everything will be just fine.

I could finally hear dad's encouragement ringing in my ears again.

My dad's dream had come true, and in addition to letting out all of the depression I had pinned up inside, I got a taste of a normal life in Rivet City. The place was a bit of a dump. It wasn't what I expected at all... you know, since I'd expected a giant city full of happy people, clean clothes, good food, and warm beds. I'd been staying here for a while now, so I guess I'd gotten used to by now.


...


I sat with my back against the wall, and one arm draped over my knee as I read. My bed in the Weatherly was in the corner, which put me in a state of instant comfort, and all I needed was the light from my Pip-Boy to finish reading Lying, Congressional Style. As I flipped through the pages, with every minute, I found that they couldn't hold my interest, and I fell asleep.

When I awoke, I couldn't breathe. There were a pair of armored forearms digging into the bare of my neck, and my movement was restricted. Someone was holding me down, and I was eventually going to be strangled to death.

I tried to spit out anything I could, but it all sounded like a raspy gag reflex, and my attempts were only making it harder for me to breathe. As my chest felt closer and closer to collapsing in on itself, I flailed harder, I kicked harder, and I struggled more, but I was getting nowhere. I lowered one of my hands from my strangler's arm to search, and there it was – Lying, Congressional Style.

I made sure I had a tight grip on the spine of the book, and managed to throw it across the room. It hit the door, and I assumed it was loud enough for someone to hear.

A few seconds later, the door slowly opened, and the security chief came into my room. I'd never been happier to see him in my life.

"What the hell's going on in here," he yelled, as he drew his assault rifle. "Somebody get in here now!"

The strangler loosened his grip every so often. Harkness took slow, single steps toward me, and never took his eye off the man above me.

"Just let her go, and you'll walk out of here alive. I guarantee it."

The strangler jerked back on my throat even harder, and I shut my eyes tightly. Tears were being squeezed from my eyes until I was full-on crying. It was extremely painful to move. The strangler lifted his arm away, allowing a second for me to breathe, only to use his gloved hands to continue to choke me. He was actually going to kill me if Harkness didn't -

The side of my head was now damp. I felt warmth slowly running down my body, as well as major relief. I could breathe again, thank God, but I was still in pain. I fell over onto my now bloodied sheets, and laid there. I didn't want to move, or speak.

And Harkness... just stood there. I stared at him for a few seconds too long, and because of it, I assumed he thought I'd just died. He ran over to me, and shook me by the shoulders.

"Are you alright? Stay with me," he said as he began to search his pockets. He pulled out a stimpak, and practically stabbed me with it.

"Stop," I managed to mutter. He pulled it from my flesh, and I wanted to hit him. "That hurts, and a stimpak won't save me from not being able to breathe, dolt," I yelled.

I was gasping for air shortly after. I started to struggle with my breathing again, and I shut my eyes. It hurt so much, but I suppose that's what I deserved for having such a mouth at a time like this...

And that's when my heart nearly leaped out of my chest. He started to perform CPR, and my body was idiotic enough to take something sensual from it. I felt so weakened on the inside, and I couldn't tell if I was dying, panicking, or if it was just flutter.

So, I closed my eyes again. I'd know what it was if I woke up tomorrow...