A word of warning before you start this story: this is a sequel to Trouble on the Homefront and the final installment in the Jackverse. That said, you will need to have read Trouble on the Homefront to understand some of the reasons things are the way they are in this story. (TotH is a short 5 chapter read, so don't let the necessity of it dissuade you from this fic!)

The door to the saloon opens with a creak, catching the attention of everyone in the dusty room. I look up from the name I'm carving in the table, flicking my pocketknife closed and watching as two men enter. One's dressed in obvious traveling clothes, and is older and balding, and the other is large and covered in dark metal, armored to the teeth. I wager a guess that he's a merc of some sort, maybe a bodyguard.

The older man looks around the mostly empty bar, shifting uneasily when he doesn't seem to find what he's looking for. The merc scowls, and crosses his arms over his chest, looking relatively intimidating.

"You folks lookin' for Jack?" I call, gazing at the merchant and guard calmly.

The merchant looks confused, but nods. They walk over to me so they don't have to yell, and the balding merchant raises his eyebrows at me. "You seen him? Caravan's supposed to be leaving in the morning."

I crack a grin, extending my hand. "You're lookin' at her. You must be Calvin."

The merchant nods again, his confusion obvious as he shakes my hand. "I, uh... I figured Jack was... Well, a man."

I smile again. "Everyone thinks so. Kind of a trick, sorry. It's short for 'jack of all trades' and it stuck." My memory flicks back to the infiltration of Adams Air Force Base with the Brotherhood and the wayward comment from Sarah Lyons. One of the Pride had shortened it to Jack, and it stuck, and after the ordeal with Project Purity, I'd left behind my old name and identity, preferring the anonymity the new name brought me.

Calvin looks relieved to have found me and relaxes, sitting beside me at the bar. "Nice to meet you, then," he says, ordering a drink from the bartender. "Done much caravan work?"

"Only for the last five years or so," I answer, eyeing the guard curiously. He returns my gaze steadily, and we exchange a wary nod of acknowledgment.

"This's Ritter," the merchant offers, attempting to defuse the awkward tension. "Used to be a merc, but got outta that and joined the caravan business. Been with me for years."

We shake hands, and the merc joins us at the bar. I buy them a few drinks and we all loosen up a little, getting familiar with each other before we set out together. Their other guard, a reformed raider, had taken a bullet in the shoulder and was out of the caravan business. Seeing as they were understaffed and the caravan I'd been with had disbanded, I was offered the job.

So far, they seem like a good fit, and I don't think I'll mind traveling with them. Calvin is a talker, and Ritter seems to balance him out pretty well. They will be a decent distraction from the boredom of the wastes, and from wayward memories creeping in.

After checking my Pipboy and noticing the time, I excuse myself to bed, paying the tab with the last of my caps from my last paycheck. I bid my new companions goodnight, heading off toward my room in the back of the saloon. Sleep comes soon after, and I drift off into thankfully dreamless sleep.

"So, where're we headed?" I ask as I pack up my rifle, patting my hip to make sure my pistol is in place.

Calvin laughs at the question, his eyes twinkling as he looks over at me. "You didn't get a whole lotta information, did you?"

I grin uncertainly, tugging my cowboy hat onto my head more firmly. "All I got told was that there was a good paycheck and some sightseeing. Sounded good enough to me."

Calvin chuckles, and a snort of amusement comes from behind me. I turn to see Ritter sizing me up again, though he does look mildly pleased at the comment I've made.

"Ready to head out?" Calvin asks, greeting Ritter with a nod.

The merc gives a gruff noise of agreement, and I shrug a little, checking the straps on the brahmin's cart out of habit.

My question is forgotten as we head out of the remains of Richmond, and Calvin pulls a compass out of his overalls and aims us north. Ritter and I flank the brahmin (named Delilah, according to Calvin), and we head out.

Calvin fills the wastes with stories of old routes he used to travel and the adventures he's been on, and I listen with mild interest, keeping an eye on our surroundings. After a few hours, his voice fades into the background and I'm left alone with my thoughts. To the north lies the Capital Wasteland, a place I haven't been in years. Trying to leave it and the memories there behind sent me out into the wastes, not sure if I'd ever return.

There's a few settlements between us and the remains of DC, and I try to ignore the muddled feelings about returning there that are swirling in my mind. I stick for hoping that we'll not quite make it to the ruined capital, but the prickling at the back of my neck tells me I'm probably wrong.

Ritter pauses, squeezing off a shot and killing a bloatfly, startling me and Calvin out of our thoughts. The merc goes over to the giant fly and salvages some meat from it, adding it to our supplies quietly and carrying on.

Shooting a bloatfly is relatively hard since they twitch around so much, and I admire the man's skill. "Nice."

Ritter grunts, giving me a nod of acknowledgement. He doesn't say anything else, keeping his eyes ahead as we walk on.

While I'd rather be friendly with him and be able to talk with him, he's not giving me a lot of opportunities, so I just back off and let him be. Even if he's quiet, he's a good shot, and I'd rather have him on my side.

We walk for a few hours before stopping for lunch, the sun high in the sky above us. I'm more than a little grateful for the hat I've got on; without it, I'd have baked my brain by now.

"Where you from, Jack?" Calvin asks as he tears through a rubbery piece of iguana meat.

I swallow my mouthful of beans before answering, grateful for the moment's pause to think. "Near DC," I respond casually, nudging the brim of my hat up to see the merchant's face.

Calvin gives me a jovial grin, gesturing widely with his iguana kebab. "Well, how bout that! We're heading right up your alley. Probably gonna make a stop in Megaton, sound familiar?"

"Yep." I pause, remembering Nova and Gob, wondering what's happened to them since I've been away. "It's been a long time, though. Don't count on me for directions."

Calvin laughs again, eyeing my Pipboy for a second before shaking whatever he's thinking out of his mind. He launches into a story about his favorite radio station, attempting to retell stories about Herbert 'Daring' Dashwood. I smile in all the right places, hearing Three Dog's voice in place of my boss'.

The rest of our day passes uneventfully, and we make relatively good time, following an old highway north. One of the old signs near where set up camp says it's another 80 miles to DC, and I'm more than a little pleased with our progress. Delilah has kept up a decent pace, which is sort of unusual for an old caravan brahmin, but I'm happy nonetheless. The sooner I get paid, the better.

I opt for the first guard shift, sitting up by the campfire after dinner. Ritter lays down and tries to sleep almost immediately, but Calvin stays up for a while, telling me stories and flicking pinches of gunpowder into the fire to watch them explode. I'm amazed when he finally shuts up and goes to bed, and then I'm alone with the stars.

I look up and study the constellations, remembering all the nights I've spent out in the wastes. It feels like I'm 19 again, fresh out of the Vault, and the past I've spent so long ignoring starts creeping back into my mind.

After everything that happened, it was either force myself to forget, or drown myself in the sorrow and pain that permeated every sense. I'd lost Dad, Amata had kicked me out even after returning my feelings, and the Enclave was gone. As peace took over the Capital Wasteland, the trauma of what I'd been through had begun sinking in. Night terrors, days where I simply couldn't function, and hours spent drowning myself in whiskey all drove me away from the Capital Wasteland and the memories it held.

Joining a caravan had been the only real work and I wasn't going to be able to survive without a source of income, so I took the job. Traveling up and down small sections of the East Coast had introduced me to all sorts of scenery and geography I'd only imagined before, and being out in the fresh air did wonders for me and my sanity. The memories still plagued me, though, and eventually I left behind my old name and the title of 'Lone Wanderer', facing the wasteland as a new person, one not afraid to go to sleep at night.

Over the years, the facade had become one with my new reality, and the easiest thing to do was keep moving. The thought of returning back to DC, where everything happened, scares me. I don't want to undo all the forgetting I've done, and I don't want to hurt anymore, either.

I'm itching for some whiskey, but I know better than to see if we have any. Instead I keep my ears focused on our surroundings, listening for danger until Ritter rises and takes over. My sleep is restless, filled with memories of the life and friends I left behind. Dreams of explosions and screams haunt me throughout the night. After I jolt awake and try to think of happier things, my nightmares turn to the Vault's rebellion, and Amata's tear-stricken face lingers in my brain until morning.

Calvin wakes me up early, wanting to get a head start before the sun rises. He and Ritter have already packed up and gotten Delilah's gear strapped on.

I swear under my breath, wishing they'd gotten me up to help, and scramble to my feet to help with the last few things. We take off just as the sun peeks over the horizon, heading north along the old road.

We've stopped for breakfast and started up again when the caravan boss moves back to walk beside me.

"So, jack of all trades, huh?" Calvin asks, sounding almost conspiratorial. "Think you got skills, huh?"

I smile politely, holding up my Pipboy. "Got some experience with tech, and if nothing else, I got a map here, too." I'm surprised at how defensive I feel, what with him questioning my abilities, and my hand flicks over to my pistol without me really realizing it. I see his gaze go to my hand and his eyebrows shoot up. I swear inwardly, coming up with a cover story. "I've also kept myself alive for a good six or so years, so I'm pretty handy with a gun, too."

Calvin relaxes, accepting my answer for the motion and grinning. He claps me on the shoulder and laughs. "Good on you. Far as I can tell, you're a valuable addition. Don't make me think otherwise," he adds, and even behind his normal cheer, I can hear the warning in his voice.

I nod, dipping my head respectfully. "Yes sir."

Calvin grins again and moves back to the front of the caravan.

I glance at Ritter, who's got a somewhat amused look on his face. I'm a little uneasy now, but everything seems calm, so I try my best to relax as we continue up the old highway.

We stop for the night in a small settlement, spending the evening in a bar. Calvin treats me and Ritter to whatever we want, doing some trade and giving us a handful of caps as our first paycheck. Ritter and I stay bellied up to the bar while Calvin finds his own table and starts entertaining the locals with stories and making new friends.

I sip at the scotch in my glass, wishing it was something else. So long as it gets me nice and buzzed, it doesn't matter what I drink, but trying to convince myself that it burns as nicely as a whiskey is a failure before it begins.

"You're not from up here," Ritter observes gruffly, taking a slow drag of the cigarette tucked between his fingers.

I'm surprised to find him looking at me, and presume he's speaking to me, too. "Me? What makes you say that?"

The merc nods at the Pipboy as he taps the ash off his cigarette. "That's Vault tech."

I shrug a little. "Could've taken it off some free-roaming Vaultie."

Ritter nods agreeably. "You didn't, though. Not quite the type." He studies me for a few minutes, shaking his head. "Not twitchy enough to be an ex-raider. Not cold enough to be a slaver."

I allow a friendly little grin to grow on my face. "You caught me."

Ritter smiles and we return to our drinks. I'm lost in thought when he speaks again.

"Why'd you leave?"

I choke on my drink, startled by the words, and cough a little. "It was... uh... Family issues?"

Ritter's eyebrows raise. "Wasn't aware they let you out for any old reason."

I give the mercenary a confused look. "You seem to have an awful lot of ideas about how Vaults work." My tone is almost accusatory, and I cringe inwardly, hoping I don't offend him.

Ritter shrugs. "Knew a guy who knew a guy."

That's not quite enough to go on and I stare down at my drink. He doesn't say anything else and eventually gets up to find a place to sleep. After the crowd begins to leave and Calvin's voice stars slurring, I follow suit, shelling out a few caps for my tab and renting a room for the night.

The next few days are very uneventful; we continue along, stopping in a settlement every couple nights to resupply and trade. I know I'm just imagining it, but it feels like my memories and feelings are returning more and more strongly the closer we get to the Capital Wasteland. I spend my few caps on the strongest alcohol I can find, and during our stops in towns I usually wake up with a girl in my bed. They don't do anything to ease the ache I pretend isn't there, and they don't fill the Amata-shaped hole in my chest. Some of them try to comfort me when I wake from nightmares, but the rest seem to slip away before morning.

The pattern continues all the way until we see Rivet City looming in the distance. Calvin gives a low whistle and wonders aloud how the big ship got there. I let him speculate, watching the ruins on our side of the river for Super Mutants. Ritter and I rush one that seems to be tearing into a corpse, and he manages to catch the monster by surprise with a grenade. With a well-placed shot from me, it collapses in pieces and we return to an applauding Calvin.

The mutants' numbers are surprisingly low, and with the Citadel nearby, I don't expect to see many more. Calvin continues guiding us north, and begins talking about the giant building that is the Brotherhood fortress.

Not wanting to be recognized, I keep my hat low over my eyes, but there aren't many Brotherhood members out patrolling, and we pass by the Citadel with little trouble.

Delilah moos uneasily as the Brotherhood's crane creaks in the wind and I'm struck with the memory of watching Liberty Prime swinging out over the Citadel walls. The sight was awe-inspiring and I can't keep a smile off my face.

"What's so funny, Jack?" Calvin teases, snapping me back to reality.

I pull my hat off and rub a hand through my hair, shaking my head. "Nothin'. Sorry." The adrenalin that had built up in my veins as the robot appeared is coming back, and I feel myself getting antsy just as I had before the fight to the purifier. The already-won battle feels like it's about to happen again, and the stress of that day comes trickling back to me.

The guys just chuckle at my wild expression changes and we continue on.

We make our way across the river to the memorial, and I try to play it cool, like I didn't cross this bridge in the middle of the fight of my life. My heart is thudding in my chest and I can feel cool sweat on the back of my neck. My mind replays explosions and Enclave soldiers rushing at me with every step, and I swallow, my hand going to my pistol instinctively.

Ritter gives me an odd look, but doesn't say anything, helping nudge our brahmin in the right direction and around the craters in the concrete.

Calvin makes a deal for some aqua pura at the memorial, and I'm pleased to see Brotherhood guards milling around. Turning the purifier over to the people would have been a surefire way to start a civil war. I pull my hat a little lower over my eyes, hoping to escape notice. A few of the Brotherhood notice my Pipboy and mutter amongst themselves, but no one says anything, and soon we're heading away from the memorial and back across the river.

With our cart loaded with water, our brahmin moves slower, and we amble toward Megaton leisurely. The Super Mutant presence seems to have all but disappeared, and across the river, I notice what can only be the Lyons' Pride coming up and out of the metro.

Sarah's blonde hair isn't among the group, and a wave of concern washes over me. Once she'd realized I could hold my own, the Paladin and I had become good friends. I hope she hasn't gotten killed in the time since I've been away, but I can't dwell on it for long, because Ritter swears and I hear the jeering of raiders. Calvin starts yelling orders and jumps in front of Delilah, tugging his rifle off his back.

Gunfire explodes in front of me and I whip my pistol out, taking a few quick shots. With Ritter's help, we drop one of the raiders, but the rest have relatively heavy armor and are running at us with makeshift clubs and machetes.

I let my Pipboy take the brunt of a machete hit as I rush to meet one of the raiders, deflecting the blade and pulling my gun up in his face. The raider jeers and twists away, sending me off balance and my shot goes wide.

The blade of the machete is dull and as he brings it down on my shoulder, the reinforced leather of my jacket takes most of the blow, but doesn't split. I can already feel a bruise forming and whirl, firing a few shots in quick succession. They hit their mark and the raider falls over with a bloody crater for a face.

I don't have time to react before another raider jumps on my back and the barrel of a gun digs into my neck. Terror shoots through me and I hear a gunshot.

Everything in me is expecting to be dead, but I feel the raider sag against me and fall off my back.

I turn around to see Ritter's gun still smoking and a grim smile on his face. "Thanks," I gasp out, my heart pounding faster than I was aware it could.

The rest of the raiders are dead and Calvin is checking Delilah for any wayward bullet wounds. I move back over toward my group and help Ritter scavenge for spare bottle caps and ammo. It's only when Ritter and I head back toward Calvin that I notice he's favoring his left side.

"What happened?" I ask, pausing and studying him for injuries.

Ritter snorts and waves my concern away, but I scowl at him.

"Ritter. What happened?"

The merc hears the warning in my tone and I'm surprised when he grimaces and gives in. "Took a knife to the leg," he mutters. "I'll be fine."

My eyes fall to his leg, finding the wound easily now that I know what I'm looking for. There's blood seeping out it and staining his armor and I cringe in sympathy.

"Calvin? Ritter's hurt."

Ritter makes a noise of protest but our boss comes over anyway, examining the wound and tutting. They discuss using a few stimpaks or backtracking to Rivet City, but I clear my throat to interrupt.

"That'd be wastin' a few hours, guys. I, uh... Megaton's right over this hill." I nod at the incline unnecessarily, shrugging a little. "There's a doctor there, and he's pretty good."

Calvin looks between me and the hill before beaming. "There we go! Way to put that mental map to use, Jack." He tosses me a few caps, saying something about them being a bonus, and we take off at a much slower pace, with Ritter leaning heavily on Delilah.

It's well past noon when we arrive at the gated city, and Calvin walks toward the gate with a plea for medical help on his lips. Ritter picks up the glint off the town's sniper's scope and stops him, and I call up the password. The gate creaks open in front of us, and we hobble inside. Calvin and Ritter hitch Delilah up and lock her packs up, and I help nudge the town's rusty gate closed.

They get directions to Doc Church's shack and I follow halfheartedly, glancing around the little town. It looks mostly the same, though it looks like the sign up at Moriarty's saloon has been vandalized. My thoughts go immediately to Gob and Nova, the only two friends I'd ever really made out in the wastes.

"I'm gonna go get a drink," I call to the guys, heading up the side of the crater and across to the saloon. I keep my hat low over my eyes, desperate to maintain my anonymity and keep from causing an uproar. I've never felt like the hero everyone else seemed to see me as, not after what happened during the battle. Letting everyone down isn't very heroic, and I distract myself by remembering that I've left that past behind. I don't want the memories to come tumbling back into my lap right now, in the middle of the city I used to call home.

I hesitate outside the door, looking up at the sign to see the damage that's been done. Moriarty's name is crossed out and crudely painted over. Seeing Gob's name on the sign throws me for a loop and I frown, reaching for the door.

The inside of the saloon is the same as always, dusty and dim, but strangely comforting. There's a few people at the tables, and one at the far end of the bar, but since it's still relatively early, I'm not surprised. Gob is tending the bar, as usual, looking a little worse for wear, but still fine. The woman that can only be Nova is in the back of the saloon, checking on a customer.

I can't help but smile a little, feeling more at home here than I have in years. Trying to be inconspicuous, I amble over to the bar and pick a seat near the radio. It's quiet, turned off during the slow hours. I'm tempted to turn it on and hear what Three Dog has to say, but movement in front of me startles me out of my thoughts.

"What can I get for ya, smoothskin?" Gob grinds out, his best attempt at a smile on his face.

I finger the caps in my pocket, trying not to grin at my old friend. I'm surprised by how much I missed him. "Just some water, I guess."

Gob hesitates at the sound of my voice, giving me a confused look before turning away and getting my drink. "Here you go," he says as he sets it down in front of me.

"Thanks." I see him pause again, and can't stop a chuckle. I tip my hat back and direct a smile at the ghoul. "Hey, Gob."

Gob looks stunned, which is quite the expression on a ghoul, and swears quietly. "It's you!"

I nod, shushing him. "Keep it quiet. I don't wanna make a scene or anything."

Gob nods agreeably, resting his elbows on the bar and grinning. "Where've you been? Me'n Nova thought you'd had a bad run-in with a deathclaw or something."

I shrug a little. "Away. Needed some space after... everything." I don't necessarily want to be talking about or remembering everything I've tried to drink away, so I change the subject. "Where's Moriarty?"

Gob gives a wheezy laugh. "His scotch was poisoned, poor bastard. Looked like some unhappy underlings of his had dumped a bunch of chems in it." The ghoul gives me a conspiratorial wink and I can't help but laugh. "I took over and it's been good ever since."

There's a stunned smile on my face. "Poisoned? Really? So you and Nova are free?"

Gob nods proudly and is about to say something when footsteps come our way.

"I heard my name," Nova announces, her voice slightly raspier than I remember but just as sultry as ever. She plops on the seat beside me, offering me a polite smile before she really looks at me. Her jaw goes slack and she gasps before bursting into a large grin and throwing her arms around me. "You're alive!"

I chuckle and pat her arm. "I'm tough to kill."

She sits back and takes me in for a moment, pressing a kiss to my cheek and tugging my hat over my eyes playfully. "Glad to hear it, hon. Me and Gob worried ourselves sick about you. Missed seeing your face in here."

Nova starts telling me everything that's happened in my absence and I listen for a while, focusing on my friends as her voice turns into background noise. Nova's going gray, her red hair dulled with silver strands. Her face is lined and I take a guess that her old Jet habit didn't help her youthful looks.

Gob walks away to help another customer and Nova finishes her story, smiling over at me again.

"It just hasn't been the same around here with you gone. Three Dog's had nothing to talk about," Nova teases.

I scoff, draining the last of the water in my glass. "As far as I'm concerned, that old Lone Wanderer bullshit can be lost to history. I gave it up years ago."

Nova cocks her head and regards me thoughtfully. "Really? What've you been up to, baby?"

A shrug is as much answer as I want to give her, but words come falling out of my mouth anyway. "Guarding caravans, mostly. That and drinking myself under the table." I roll my eyes at myself. "It'd be nice to forget."

Sympathy and concern pass over Nova's face. "Are you okay?"

I shrug again, giving the empty glass a bitter look. "Mostly. Hurts to remember everything. The battles, the stuff I've seen, my dad dying..."

Nova's quiet for a minute, then opens her mouth hesitantly. "... And Amata?"

I don't respond, but that works as an answer for her. She and Gob were my biggest supporters when I was exiled from Vault 101 and Amata had promised she loved me before sealing me out. I had been a mess, heartbroken by my best friend, and apparently Nova hasn't forgotten how strongly Amata affected me.

"Oh, honey," Nova coos, wrapping me up in another hug. "It's been years. You deserve better than hanging onto someone you'll never see again. I'm sure there's plenty of people out there that would love to have you."

"They'd love to have the 'Lone Wanderer,'" I correct sullenly, shrugging off the thoughts. I'm not much more than a shadow of my former self; parts of me have been numb or just shut down since the battle for the purifier, but I don't let my mind go there.

Nova protests, calling me by name, but I stop her before anyone overhears.

"It's Jack now. I gave up that name years ago." I give her a smile to soothe the concern I see on her face. "Got tired of being recognized and decided I should be someone else for a change."

Nova doesn't seem quite sure what to think, but tests my new name uncertainly.

My thoughts are going to a dangerous place and I realize I should go find Calvin and Ritter and see if we're ready to head out. "Thanks for the drink," I say, setting some caps on the bar, but Nova snorts and Gob comes back over and pushes them back toward me.

"Like hell are we gonna charge an old friend," he says, offering me a smile.

I'm not up for fighting, knowing Nova's watching me for any sign of an emotional breakdown, so I just agree and pocket my caps again, tipping my hat at my friends before heading for the door.

The air outside the saloon is hot and dry but it's less stuffy than it was inside, and I take a deep breath, looking out over the crater and observing the city I used to call home. Down below me, I can see Calvin talking to a group of people near the crater, and I can almost hear him making deals.

I chuckle and head down the metal walkways, walking up to my boss as Ritter exits the doctor's shack, still limping but moving much better. My gut instinct was right and Calvin is already trading, and we all climb the side of the crater. Calvin starts selling stuff from Delilah's pack, making a cool two hundred caps in about twenty minutes.

"Y'all right, Ritter?" I ask the merc as Calvin's crowd begins to disperse.

He nods, testing his leg gingerly. "Couple'a stitches and a few stims. Told ya I'd be fine."

I smile at the man's stubbornness. "Good."

"We'll be back," Calvin promises his last few buyers, shooing them away and patting Delilah as the brahmin shifts uncertainly.

Ritter and I move in and nudge the last few people away and start strapping Delilah's packs on her back more firmly.

Calvin checks his list as we finish double checking Delilah's gear and scratches his bald head thoughtfully. "Okay, next stop is gonna be interesting. Gotta make a new deal with the head honcho, something about spreading news about them starting up their own trade, and then we can come back here for the night. Don't worry," he adds with a jovial wink. "It's nearby, so it won't be a long trip."

Ritter and I exchange relieved looks, and we head down the hill, away from Megaton. After a few minutes, we meet up with an old highway, and Calvin leads us westward. Springvale's school rises up to our north, and we walk through the remains of the town slowly.

My eyes go to the incline before us, settling on the little scenic outcropping that hides the entrance to Vault 101. A part of me wishes I had the time and ability to go revisit my childhood and to make amends for everything that went wrong when I went back to help Amata. The rest of me aches, the heartbreak coming back so strongly it makes me choke up. It doesn't help that the sun's beginning to set and I can't help but remember leading Amata out of the Vault to see her first sunset.

I drop my gaze to the ruined asphalt below our feet, following along beside the brahmin quietly. A sharp turn and a sudden incline catch my attention and I look up to see Calvin moving for the rickety wooden door hiding Vault 101.

"Whoa, wait." The words are out of my mouth before I even realize I've thought them, and Calvin stops to look at me.

"Got something on your mind?" he asks, raising an eyebrow.

"No, I just... Sorry," I stammer, swallowing hard and dropping my gaze to the dirt.

Calvin stares at me uncertainly for another minute before turning to continue to the door. He twists the knob and yanks the door open, and I cringe as the wooden door groans.

The boss looks down into the cavern, nodding to himself. "This is the place. Okay Ritter, you stay with Delilah. Jack, you're comin' with me. Might give us a little extra bargaining power if they see that thing on your arm. Could make 'em feel like you're one of them."

I bite back a shaky laugh, just nodding and following Calvin into the cave. My hands are trembling violently as my boss enters a code into the door panel and activates it. The shrill shrieking of metal on metal fills the cave and we both shudder before Calvin leads me over the threshold and into Vault 101.

A few security guards come up to meet us, police batons at the ready. I'm a little bothered by that; if they're opening the Vault to anyone, they need better protection than a few collapsible clubs. I halfway recognize the guard that greets us, wondering if I'd had him in one of my classes years ago. The thought is pushed from my mind a few moments later when he turns and leads us through the Vault to the Overseer's office.

I still know the route through the sterile bunker like the back of my hand and follow it numbly, keeping my head low and my face hidden as best I can. I'm wishing the brim was a little wider when I run into Calvin. He and the guard have stopped for a moment, and I offer a sheepish shrug. "Sorry," I mutter, rubbing a hand over my face.

My apology is mostly ignored and we continue. I'm lost in memories, images from my childhood flashing before me. We've just finished climbing stairs when a memory of Amata giggling sends a burst of nostalgia and pain through me.

The memory has barely faded when Calvin stops moving, and then she's there in front of us, greeting us warmly.