Rest and relaxation, you don't get the chance to have a lot of that in the Capital Wasteland. Especially not, if they're singing your praises on the only radio in the wastes every other day. The Lone Wanderer, was the one title that seemed to stick, Three Dog had called her everything from Jesus, to Buddah, to Messiah. She'd visited most of the bars and drinking holes in the wasteland by now. It'd been two years since she left Vault 101, she had plenty of time to get around. Granted that most didn't really last that long with her lifestyle, she felt she'd done well for herself.
Regulator HQ was the calmest place around, sure the other duster-clad fellows would congratulate her, buy her drinks on a regular basis, but at least they didn't blow things out of proportion. They all had a mission and there was only so much time to be celebrating. That's where the Lone Wanderer found herself now, in the gloom, alone, thoughtful. Few would've thought to imagine her just sitting there, pondering on her life. Everyone seemed to think that she wasn't human to begin with, some sort of godsend, some sort of angel of death. Oh, yes, her talent for ending lives certainly was no secret by now. She usually saved others by ending them, but very few had witnessed that razor-sharp mind and intellect that belied the usually power-armor clad exterior. Those few that did, were surprised.
She did have her weaknesses, though. She found herself staring down the bottom of a bottle more times than she'd like, with only the most faithful hound to accompany her, eerily quiet, as if he knew, as if he'd seen others like her, heroes, symbols, but people nonetheless, suffering despite their seemingly inhuman accomplishments. There was also that incident with Jet, shortly after she left the Vault. That one lasted for longer than most thought. And oh, how she felt tempted to inhale a dose of instant euphoria, excitement, even today. But then again, what would people think, if they knew that their so-called Savior was a junkie? That was enough to keep her on the straight and narrow, after all, she did like being a hero, it felt good, to be recognized for the good she wanted to do in the first place. Perhaps it felt too good, and it was getting to her head. The Enclave was all but destroyed and countless other villains, rapists, murderers and slavers lay dead at her hand, what other obstacle could there be out there to overcome? Maybe she'd get the chance to rest after all this time, maybe finally visit that grave she dug for her father.
Oh, but surely some other earth-shattering problem would come up, sooner or later. How about a legion of deathclaws? A new computer president? Hell, maybe even a good old fashioned Super Mutant incursion would do. Like the one they had way back when. For now, though, she'd let the scotch do its work. Nobody needed saving today, or so she happily believed. It would've been nice to have company, though. Loyal and uncannily intelligent and resilient as Dogmeat was, the hound wasn't much for conversation.
And there it was, just when he was needed most. A stranger to offer the help she needed. He sat down uninvited, didn't even take off his hat, he leaned forward, his clean-shaven face smiling ever so slightly. He didn't speak though, obviously he expected her to show her surprise.
"I didn't expect to meet you like this for…well..ever, really." She started, her brow furrowing "You don't have to shoot anything around here, mind you."
"I know." He replied. His voice was oddly hard to place, she couldn't describe it to anyone even if she tried. "I tend to meet you all, at least once or twice, once most that needs doing, is done. Hello, Dogmeat."
The hound, surprisingly ignored the bone it had been chewing on until this point and happily leapt up into the stranger's lap. It was fascinating, how a fighting hound could be a witless, blissful pet as well. They played and fought for a few moments, before the hound finally settled down, and sat between the pair, aside from the table.
"You know each other." The Lone Wanderer stated, glancing between the pair, slightly confused.
"Oh, yes, we've known each other for a long while. He and I have seen much from the wastes and many people like yourself. We're never the ones others remember though, and we prefer it that way."
"I don't understand. Dogmeat was yours?" The Lone Wanderer shook her head incredulously. This stranger had always been too mysterious for her liking.
"I wouldn't say that. He's a dog unto himself, he's free to do as he pleases, we just tend to have matching taste in companions. We've traveled with the Wasteland's best, you know. And you can count yourself among them. Granted you don't have a statue erected in your honor. Yet."
The Lone Wanderer reclined slowly in her chair, a pensive expression on her face. She'd seen it all, aliens, magic, spirits, perhaps those encounters had opened her mind to the possibilities, were these two aliens? Or something supernatural?
"You'll figure it out eventually, I'm sure." The Stranger mused, placing the tips of his fingers together. "The more important question is, however, what will you do now? With the Enclave gone, the Vault opened, fresh water for everyone and all the other wondrous achievements, what will you do? What is there left to do?"
The Lone Wanderer sat in silence. In earnest, she never really planned on any of this, never really intended on being the hero, much as she enjoyed it. All she wanted was her father back. It was tragic and comical at the same time, how she got everything else, short of the one thing she desired most. She'd had her vengeance and she'd done enough heroics, what was there left for her to do now? All the Wasteland ever really needed her for, was to kill. That's what most expected her to do for them, too. Amata cast her out even after she'd saved the Vault. Sure, she had a house in Megaton, but that place never would become her home, much as she adored and hated Moira, her first friend outside the Vault. The Brotherhood of Steel wasn't her family either. She shared their goals, for the most part and she'd become attached to some among their ranks. She'd even felt the stirrings of affection for some of them, though somehow she suspected they would never expect her to be capable of such. The Lone Wanderer was an asexual, aromantic title, a person without a place, a person that lived for everyone other than herself.
As if the Stranger had heard her every thought, he watched her, attentively, quietly, he always was an enigma, even to her. It was odd, how he could be there one second, then be gone the next, how nobody but her ever seemed to notice when he did show up.
"I don't know, stranger. It's as if I've run my course. I've saved the Wasteland and helped it in so many ways…but now what? I..I don't know, if I have a purpose anymore. I'm just…alone, now and I can't help myself."
"The others felt that way too, once their deeds were done, once their nemesis lay defeated and their ultimate goals achieved. They each found their calling, however. One founded quite the prosperous settlement, had a pair of sons, from different mothers, granted, but they both were exceptional, nonetheless. What will you do?"
"The Wasteland doesn't need people like me, in that regard." The Lone Wanderer muttered sharply, her eyes falling down to her bottle of scotch again. It looked very tempting, and the aroma…
"What do you mean, people like you?" the stranger mused. He already knew the answer, but he wanted her to say it aloud, be bold, honest. Even if only to herself. She knew, somehow.
"I'll never truly love a man, stranger. There will be no little wanderers. I'm just going to become a relic. A hero in stories for the future. I'll have lived and died for the "greater good", without ever achieving anything for myself. The one thing I wanted to do, only for me…I failed. My life, is for everyone else, I realized that the moment my father gave his life for me, so that I might give mine…for everyone else. And I guess…that means I'll never find the love I want. Amata exiled me, even after…after..everything." she began to grow weary. It was a weight that kept growing heavier on her shoulders, as she kept speaking. "Sarah? Her "duty" apparently keeps us from becoming closer, besides…I don't think she'll ever quite see me in that light, regardless of how many heroics I pull off. It's bullshit. I don't want this."
The stranger sat there, his face unreadable as ever, his hand was on top of Dogmeat's head, who was looking at his master, the Wanderer, with a pure, unadulterated compassion that the woman had seen only in children.
"It isn't so grim, as you make it out to be, my friend. Despite everything, you've always had a choice. Many of them, in fact. It was you who tricked Eden into self-destruction, and you again, that decided to spare the Colonel. You had the opportunity to go down so many paths, but you chose to go down this one. You have, once again, a choice. Fate, is not as cruel as it seems. You were fated to encounter these obstacles. But how you overcame them, or how they crushed you, all depended on your choices."
"And was my father 'fated' to die?" she sharply raised her gaze to meet the stranger's eyes. In them was an intensity that burned so bright. Bright as it had during the most trying of circumstances. In the moments that the fate of the entire wasteland hanged in the balance, that's when it burned. Now it was tainted, though, from rage against an unseen design.
The Stranger remained silent for a while longer. His usually unreadable expression softened. He seemed compassionate, both of these strange beings seemed to truly, earnestly understand the woman's pain. She was too angry to understand that, however.
"Yes." Came his simple answer. "Many bad things..simply cannot be avoided, my friend. It is how we cope with them that matters. That is a harsh reality that we have learned to live with."
The Lone Wanderer sank into her bottle, she drank deep of the cheap liquor. It'd dull the senses, the anger, everything, at least of that, she could be certain. Heck, she wasn't certain this whole conversation wasn't a figment of her own imagination. Maybe she did finally take that dose of Jet she'd been avoiding for so long.
"It isn't fair." They both said in unison. Dogmeat barked lowly.
The Lone wanderer raised her gaze to stare at the Stranger. "Then I'm fated to be alone, am I not?"
"If everything was so certain, it wouldn't be fun to watch. Trust me, fate is not always cruel." The Stranger said, smiling ever-so-slightly.
At that moment, a man burst through the door into the Headquarters. He was a regulator, seemingly alarmed and in a hurry.
"There's a firefight going on near those mutie camps we spotted not long ago. Some crazy bunch of those Brotherhood lot launched an assault before the one we'd planned. We're moving out to support them, lock and load, Regulators!"
There was only one squad that would do something quite so risky, attacking an established Super Mutant camp far from backup and support. The Lone Wanderer wondered if being a hero for a third time would make certain individuals regret the whole "under different" circumstances speech. It was a little too convenient. She looked back to the Stranger.
"Surprise, surprise." She muttered as the chair across from her was empty. She then turned her attention to Dogmeat. He seemed blissful as always. Loyal, happy to serve. The best companion she could ever ask for. "Well…best not look a gift horse in the mouth. I'm thinking Shishkebab will do for this occasion."