Friends and Memories
What's this, a Fallout 1 story? Well, I thought I'd mix things up a bit and decide to try my hand at the original Fallout game; not a full story, just a small oneshot. I tried very hard to make the characters not too OOC, and staying as loyal to the timeline as possible, which was a bit of a challenge since I've never played this game and had to rely solely on second-hand sources. So I apologise if some things seem weird or out of place, that's entirely my fault. Also, I will be screwing up with the timeline a bit here; I found the canonical deaths of Dogmeat and Ian kinda depressing, so they are alive here. This isn't meant to be a super-serious piece, like Chats Over Whiskey, but more of a fun fluffy piece because dammit the Vault Dweller deserves more love! Anyway, enjoy this little oneshot!
I do not own Fallout, it belongs to Bethesda and Black Isle
Silence had fallen over the Wastelands, as night-time fell across the ruined landscape of the land once called the United States of America. Only the bold or stupid dared to venture out at this late hour, where vicious predators and mutated monstrosities roamed the irradiated deserts and ruined landscapes.
But in New California, in an old and worn shack, with laughter filling the dry air. A dull glow was seen from the inside of this shack, with the sound of conversations and jocularity making themselves heard. Inside of this shack, abandoned since the bombs dropped and brought atomic death to the entire world, was some makeshift sleeping bags and a scratched wooden table set right in the middle. Several chairs, in various states of disrepair, surrounded the scratched table and food and drinks covered most of the table's surface.
Standing near the door, as if on guard, was a dog. It wasn't a mongrel that was common out in the Wastelands, with its fur missing and its skin turned a sickly pink, but instead looked surprisingly healthy with a thick brown coat of fur and a manic energy surrounding it. The dog, appropriately enough called Dogmeat, let out a few happy barks and wagged its tail like crazy as it examined the four other occupants in the shack.
Resting on a nearby chair, a beer in one hand and his trusted 10mm pistol in the other hand, was a man with long black hair and a stubble, dressed in leather armour that was covered in filth and grime. The man, a cocky smirk on his face, downed his bottle of bottle before turning his head around.
"Come and join the fun, Tycho." Ian stated, a cheeky tone to his voice. "Come on, we just saved all of New California from the Master and his mutants; it's the perfect time to let your hair down, so to speak."
Sitting on the floor in the corner of the room, fiddling with a deck of worn playing cards, was a man. The man wore hardened leather armour with a dusty sand-coloured trench coat on top, with a gas mask wrapped around his neck. The man had thinning red hair and a determined look on his face, currently in the middle of a game of Solitaire. Letting out a grunt, the man lifted his head up and stared at Ian.
"I am relaxing, Ian." Tycho responded. "Just because I don't want to drink beers and shout and scream like you, doesn't mean I don't like having fun. And would you stop holding your gun? I'd rather not have to deal with a gunshot wound, just because of you."
"Are you saying I'm irresponsible?" Ian inquired, eyebrow raised.
"No, I'm saying you can't aim." Tycho fired back. "You've shot one of us more often than you've shot any of the Raiders we've faced."
"Oh, big talk from Mister Desert Ranger." Ian chuckled. "Not all of us can be perfectionist, Tycho."
"And not all of us can use a gun." Tycho muttered, returning to his cards.
The third occupant, a woman, let out a snort and rolled her eyes, muttering about childishness underneath her breath. The woman was dressed in ratty leather armour, with a Mohawk dyed a dull green colour. A throwing knife, the blade sharp and surprisingly clean, was currently in the woman's hand.
"You guys finished your dick measuring contest?" Katja inquired. "Because really, you're kinda ruining this little party we're having. I just sliced and diced my way through way too many hordes of Super Mutants, and I just wanna sit back and unwind. I swear, I STILL smell like Super Mutant guts."
"Wait, didn't you always smell like that?" Ian chuckled.
"Keep it up, Ian." Katja growled. "Remember that I'm good with knives, buddy. I'm sure your Hub gal wouldn't like if you came back missing a few important appendages…."
"Ouch, I'm wounded here Kat." Ian announced, mock hurt in his voice. "Hey Chrissy! Little help here, mate?"
Instead of a worded reply, silence was what Ian got in return to his mock plea. The three companions and the canine turned their heads in unison, looking at the final occupant of the ruined shack. A man stood near the window, watching out at the darkened desert of New California. The man wore metal armour, the iron surface dinged and dirtied, with a frayed Vault 13 jumpsuit underneath. The man's skin, once frightfully pale, now a healthy tanned colour with bleach blonde hair and blue eyes that sparkled with intelligence. The man was called many names, most of those names were curse words uttered by dying enemies, but the most recognizable of those names was the Vault Dweller. However, the man preferred to be called by his birth name of Christopher Simmons.
Christopher continued to stare out into the night, lost in his thoughts. An aura of depression surrounded the man, as if sorrow clouded his mind and filled his body with hopelessness. Sensing his master's mood, Dogmeat walked towards Christopher and began rubbing himself up against the man's leg. Snapped awake from his thoughts, the Vault Dweller looked down at Dogmeat before scratching the dog's head.
"Is everything alright, Christopher?" Tycho inquired, a frown on his face. "You seem to have a lot on your mind."
"Just thinking, that's all." The Vault Dweller admitted. "I mean, we defeated the Master and most of the Unity. Heck, we've probably just saved most of New California from an FEV nightmare. We're…..well, we're heroes."
"And yet there are no women throwing themselves at my feet." Ian interrupted cheekily, downing another sip of his beer.
"Arrogant much?" Katja muttered.
"But that's not bothering you, is it?" Tycho inquired, ignoring the comments of his friends. "There's something else that's bothering you."
"…..Well, you consider me your friend right?" Christopher asked, running a hand through his hair.
"No, I've just been using you for free booze and women." Ian responded sarcastically. "Course you're my friend, mate."
"Same here, Chris." Katja added, nodding her head. "You're a good guy, something that's damn rare in this place."
"My sentiments exactly." Tycho stated. "With some training, you'd make a great Desert Ranger."
"But guys…..well, what's next for us now?" Christopher asked.
"What do you mean?" Ian inquired.
"Well, we're not really gonna be travelling much anymore." Christopher explained. "I mean, you're heading back to the Hub, Tycho's going back to the Mojave to rejoin his Rangers and I'm returning to Vault 13. I'm….well, you guys mean so much to me. You all helped me survive out here, taught me how to hunt and shoot guns and just make it through this whole adventure alive. Without any of you, I'd be a rotting corpse by now. And….well, I really don't wanna say goodbye to any of you."
Silence filled the old shack, the jocularity that had previously filled the area now sucked away and quickly replaced by a sombre mood. Ian placed his beer on the table and sighed, a frown on his face, as he looked to see Katja and Tycho shared similar expressions. None of them had thought of it before, but reality seemed to be hitting them square in the face; all of them had already planned their futures, none of which seemed to intertwine. As an awkward tension filled the air, before Ian stood up and walked towards the Vault Dweller and gave the man a tight hug. Christopher stood there shocked for a few moments, before returning the hug.
"Listen Chrissy, stop worrying for one night." Ian stated. "We've just went through hell itself, killed an entire army of Super Mutants by ourselves and probably just saved all of New California. Damn it, tonight we've earned the right to drink beer, have fun and forget about our worries. Just for tonight, let's not focus on the future and just enjoy the here and now."
"I can't believe I'm saying this, but Ian's got a point." Katja added. "Let's just have fun for tonight and celebrate."
"Indeed." Tycho said. "Tonight is just for us, to for friends to connect and have fun."
The Vault Dweller just stood there silently, looking at his four friends, the people who had travelled to hell and back with him without even a moment of hesitation. This might be the last time this merry band of misfits were together and Christopher doubted he'd ever see them again, but he'd be damned if he was gonna this moment be ruined. Christopher reached towards the table and grabbed a beer, a wide grin on his face.
"Alright, let's have fun!" Christopher announced, drinking his beer. "Let's make this a night to remember."
The sun rose, signalling a new day, and the five friends hugged each other and gave their goodbyes before going their separate ways. Christopher's prediction proved to be right, as this was the last time the group would all be together. But none of them ever forget their adventures, nor of the Vault Dweller with the blonde hair and the blue eyes filled with intelligence.
Dogmeat travelled around, drifting from place to place, never able to settle down before getting that wanderlust. Eventually, his brown fur now greying, the dog finally found a place to call home; a café, filled with broken dreams. Dogmeat would live out his old age at this place, until a young man in a vault suit arrived. Memories of the past stirred in Dogmeat's mind as he viewed this young man and it was right there, of another man in blue who had been a good master. His sense of wanderlust returned, with Dogmeat deciding that it was time for one last adventure.
Ian returned to the Hub and married his gal, a bright young girl with a strong enough will to keep Ian in place. Ian continued his job as a caravan guard, until a near-fatal bullet to the chest forced the man into retirement. The couple grew old together and had two children; a boy and a girl. Ian, his sense of humour still as strong as ever, decided to play one final joke when he named his daughter Chrissy. A grin appeared on the man's face, thinking about how his friend would react if he knew about this. Ian grew old, watched his daughter Chrissy and son Tycho both become caravan guards, and even managed to improve his skills with a gun. Not by much, admittedly, but still some improvement. As Ian laid in his bed, his once black hair now a dull grey and his life slowly ebbing away, one final laugh escaped his lips as he remembered his friends. As darkness consumed Ian and he breathed his last breath, his one regret was that he never managed to finally outwit Tycho.
Tycho journeyed back to the Mojave and never returned to California, instead fighting the good fight and being a helpful hand. The man became a local legend, someone who wasn't afraid to use justice against Raiders and other monstrosities of the Wastelands. Tycho would spread stories of his time in California, particularly of the people he travelled it. While Tycho didn't die peacefully like he had hoped he would, instead dying out in the irradiated desert when a group of Raiders managed to get the drop on the elderly Desert Ranger and filled him with bullets. As Tycho laid bleeding on the hot sand, a smile appeared on his parched lips; memories of the old times filled his mind, of that one night when his friends had celebrated the present and managed to forget both the past and the future.
Katja, her taste for adventure stronger than ever, never returned to her home of Adytum. She instead travelled, seeing the rest of New California for herself. She travelled far and wide, even sometimes visiting the Mojave Wastelands to see what adventures laid there. During her travels, Katja stumbled across a group of tribal people, led by a man with greying blonde hair and a worn Vault 13 jumpsuit. Katja and the greying blonde man stared at each other, as if they were seeing ghosts. It seemed fate, as cruel as it could be, dealt a sympathy card to Katja that day by bringing back a treasured memory from her past.
The two spent the night talking and reminiscing, falling back into an old routine as if no time had past. As the tribe grew, taking on the name of Arroyo, the Vault Dweller and Katja grew even closer. It came to no surprise to the locals when the two started walking around settlement, holding each other's hand and an aura of closeness radiating off of them. Katja and the Vault Dweller grew old together and had children, with Arroyo growing even larger and becoming a bright symbol of civilization in the ruins of New California.
Katja, her green hair now grey and her bones aching from years of travel, went to sleep one night and never woken up. The Vault Dweller, his heart shattered to dust, could feel his time slowly coming to an end. Sitting down one night, the Vault Dweller put ink to pen and penned his journal, telling about his adventures and about the people who made his life special. Once this epic tome was finished, the Vault Dweller sighed before heading to the temple and leaving his Vault 13 jumpsuit there. With a sad smile on his face and a sorrow in his heart, the hero of New California exited Arroyo and was swallowed up by the deserts, vanishing from this world and entering into the realm of myths and legends.
And this little oneshot is finished! I have to admit, I really love Katja; her character design is just so awesome! Makes me wish they had her in a more recent game XD And yes, I know canonically the Vault Dweller ends up with someone called Pat. However, I'm bending canon (alright, breaking canon in half) and having Katja and Christopher end up together. Anyway, I'd like to thank all of my friends and readers for sticking by me for so long and I hope they continue to stay by my side!
Love,
The Desert Dancer