Prologue
This is the dead land
This is cactus land
Here the stone images
Are raised, here they receive
The supplication of a dead man's hand
Under the twinkle of a fading star.
Is it like this
In death's other kingdom
Waking alone
At the hour when we are
Trembling with tenderness
Lips that would kiss
Form prayers to broken stone.
T.S. Eliot – The Hollow Men
xxx
There's a big, big man in the room ahead. Not a man. Too tall. Too wide.
Three shots with the pistol. (Daddy, help.) Much too scared. What do I do? Sitting here in the dark subway tunnels, the walls damp and crumbling. Silence and confusion.
xxx
"Truth is, I need someone like you." Her voice was quiet still, but echoed in the antechamber of the museum. It was just the two of them, the room lit mostly by light cast off by burning barrels and the device strapped to her wrist. Between words, the only things to be heard were the crackle of fire and a whisper of a groan from the leather he wore.
He didn't respond, only looked back at her. For a long moment, there was only the quiet buzz of silence.
"I'm not cut out for this kind of world," her small voice continued, her eyes moving downward. "And... yet there's no going back." Her hand slid into her jacket, fingering the aged document that had been tucked away inside. "It makes me ill... Mr. Charon, to have done this. If I had been afforded the luxury, I would be content to bunk down and cower in the first settlement I found, but there are things I must do out here in this war zone." She pulled her hand out and hugged her jacket closer, shivering. "For that reason, I, regretfully, must ask your permission for you to accompany me out into the wasteland."
The ghoul licked his lips, then cleared his throat. "Permission?"
"I can't in clear conscience force you to put your life on the line for me," she said. "Not just because I'm weak." In the dim light, and because she was unfamiliar with ghouls, she could not read his expression.
"The contract entitles you to my services." His voice was strained, raspy. "There is no need for permission."
The young woman waited, hoping for more out of him, but there was nothing. "I'm not that kind of person." She bit her thumbnail. "I need to hear it." His eyes narrowed; confused, perhaps. "I'm choosing to throw myself into a dangerous world; I can't choose that fate for you. Especially when you can't just walk away." Quietly, though, she let slip the word's floating around her mind, "But I don't want to die..." yet it was so quiet she didn't think he heard. But he didn't ask her to repeat herself so perhaps he did.
"You are my employer," he said, simply, as if that were an obvious answer.
"And if this is not your will, I'll go back inside and sign your contract over to Winthrop. It's better than a lifetime of guilt."
The ghoul stared at her for a long moment, perhaps searching her eyes for something. "If you're in such a hurry, let's get going."
The young woman adjusted her pack, dejected. "Fine. But if you ever change your mind, please tell me, and I'll hand your contract to anyone of your choice; no questions asked."
She looked at the door.
"I just need a little time," she near-whispered. "I'm trying to find someone."
A/N: Screw it. I'm posting this. I've been plugging away at this for over a year and I'm going to start posting finished or not.
I figure it's become par for the vaultie to fly her hero flag so I wanted to back it up a bit and work on one that felt a little more rounded. If you're burnt out on the main plotline, perhaps this is not your cup of tea, but I do wing most of the dialogue rather than copy and paste from the game.
Expect weekly-ish updates, sweet readers.