A Note from Sassy: I don't own Fallout or anything to do with it; I'm just an amateur writer who borrows the characters for a little while :)
It had been a whole two months before he had even asked himself the question.
It was dark, and by the looks of how Carys was shaking by his side, very cold. Their breath formed wisps of clouds around them, their footsteps chimed and echoed along deserted vault corridors. For the best part of the day they had battled their way through vault 92, combing every room, every foot locker to no avail. It was beginning to feel completely and utterly hopeless. And to make matters even worse, if they ever did find their quarry and escape the vault, then there was the small matter of the pack of deathclaws that prowled through Old Olney to get through first. All this to unite one elderly woman with a long lost violin…
Crushing the feeble body of a radroach underneath his boot with distaste, Fawkes finally allowed himself to ask his question. After all this time, with my debt more than repaid, why am I still here? For a few moments the words rattled through his mind, strange and unpleasant. But as Carys turned around, soft, tired green eyes almost begging for rest, Fawkes suddenly had his answer.
"Here…" With an exhausted smile that he knew all too well, Carys passed across the half empty bottle of whisky, her eyes heavy and yet content. Without thinking, Fawkes took the bottle and took from it a hefty swig which ran down his throat with no effect in the slightest. The liquid tasted like little else than dirty water, and the sleep inducing, warm effects that it seemed to provide Carys with were absent to him also. And yet whenever he was offered it, Fawkes would always take it without question. Maybe it was because it was a gesture of humanity, a sign to Carys that his human side however hidden, was still firmly there. Or maybe it was simply to try and be more human himself.
"You should rest." He nodded quickly, taking another swig before placing the bottle on the floor beside them. They had set up camp in the living quarters of the vault, surrounded by enough trip wires and mines to convince him that they were safe enough. Carys was splayed out across one of the beds, lying on her side, facing her companion whilst he sat loyally by her side on the floor. Around them were the discarded cans of food that they had scrounged from the vault cafeteria, and one dispensed stimpak syringe that Carys had hastily injected into her left thigh, just above where a mirelurk pincer had punctured her skin. Thoughtfully, Fawkes eyed the wound, seeing how the hastily applied bandage was already sodden with blood. Biting his lip, he looked back to Carys. "You're still bleeding."
"I am?" Carys laughed softly, although the grimace that followed told Fawkes that like usual her good humour was purely for his benefit. "I should have been faster I guess…"
"Perhaps it I who is at fault here…"
"Please…Fawkes, you do enough as it is." She smiled gently. "Even you can't protect me from everything." Sitting up slowly, Carys brushed a few flecks of her red fringe from her eyes, glancing down at the wound. "I should redress this…"
"Allow me…" Fawkes' voice was gruff as always, yet he tried hard to convey as much concern as possible through it. He sat up himself, although he made no move to touch her yet.
"I can do it."
"That much was not in question." Leaning forward slightly, and as gently as his large hands would allow, Fawkes began to unwrap the bandage from her leg. Watching her wince, he steadied his movements, whilst his other hand rested upon her forearm, pushing her back. "May I ask you one thing?"
"…And what's that?"
"You know that I follow you without question, Carys." He lifted up the bandage, which revealed the reddened, sore tear in her thigh and threw it to the floor, reaching for another stimpak quickly. "Yet…you've lead us here, for a simple violin." He could not help his left hand stroking at her knee slightly whilst the other applied the stimpak, a cold shiver running through Carys' body. "I can't truly say I understand why."
"Ahhh…" A knowing smile erupted across her face as Carys' head fell back against the bed, her eyes beginning closed whilst Fawkes redressed the wound. "I guess it's hard to explain. I know we're hardly changing the wasteland down here…that's for sure." She laughed, opening her eyes just enough to glance at Fawkes questioningly. "Do you remember vault 87?"
"I try not to."
"Do…just this once." She laughed gently, closing her eyes. "You remember that terminal, all the information that it gave you?"
"It was what kept me sane."
"That's a little like what this violin means to Agatha, to the wastes." She bit her lip. "Giving people a taste of the civilisation that they've merely heard about. People aren't content with simply existing, they want…maybe even need to be doing something more than that, they need to be living."
"And they can do that through these old…relics?"
"I like to think so. Sometimes we need the past to move forward." She laughed darkly. "Just maybe not all the human testing…there's been too much of that in the wastes already."
"The wastes would be very different if everyone thought the same as you."
"It's easy for me to think like this." Carys shrugged. "I grew up safe in a vault, fed all these ideas about belonging to something bigger, about living in a community, about embracing tradition. The truth is, if I was born out here, I'm certain I wouldn't think like that. Maybe if I manage to survive out here for long enough I'll change…" She smiled, sitting upright and examining the new bandages on her thigh, nodding to Fawkes graciously. "Thank you." She yawned softly. "Do you mind if I sleep?"
"I shall keep watch." Fawkes smiled, reaching for her assault rifle that lay discarded upon the dusty floor. "We should be safe here."
"I don't doubt that." She lay down slowly, her face leaning on her palms. "Goodnight Fawkes."
Hours later, Fawkes lay slumped on the ground, his eyes flicking from the doorway he was guarding, and Carys. He had noticed over time that the young woman seemed to be plagued by nightmares, and would often toss and turn restlessly in her sleep no matter where they were, be it a temporary encampment in the wastes or within the relative safety of her megaton home. Each night it would be the same strangled shrieks and gasps, the same throws of discontent, growing in intensity until eventually she would wake suddenly, her skin covered in a thin layer of sweat. She would never acknowledge these nightmares, nor admit them to him, choosing instead to turn over casually and act as if nothing had happened. Fawkes wasn't sure how he managed to give her the impression that he was oblivious.
He'd always liked Carys, that much was certain, and to be honest, predictable. After all, she was the first living creature in his mutated memory to treat him fairly, the first to accept him. How could that not grant her his undying loyalty? At first, he had been sceptical, had wondered if her kindness was only to use him as a personal bodyguard, a form of insurance out in the wastes. He didn't like thinking that way, but his logical thinking made that feel more and more the only real reason for her kindness and the insecurity lingered, dwelling constantly at the back of his thoughts. It had taken an important display of Carys' own loyalty to firmly push these insecurities out of place…
Pain. It wasn't a sensation that usually troubled him, but Fawkes remembered that this pain was unexpected, burning deep within his shoulder. He'd twisted round quickly, scanning his surroundings for the source when there it was again, another throb of pain, this time within his left calf. This time he'd cried out in frustration, stumbling off balance slightly from the impact. Over the line of D.C wreckage appeared three figures, their guns pointed directly at him. Their faces were startled, confused and angry, their eyes burning with rage, bodies encased in power armour. The one furthest to his right levelled his rifle at Fawkes' head, aiming carefully, casually even. Fawkes had heard all too well that the Brotherhood of Steel were prepared to shoot any super mutant on sight and this one looked all the more relieved to see that Fawkes was alone.
He wasn't sure why but Fawkes remained still, somehow hoping that his reluctance to fight back might save him. After all, he had no desire to kill any brotherhood soldiers, humans who he admired for their valour and honour. And yet those same humans were prepared to gun him down instantly for who he was. Swallowing hard, Fawkes willed himself to understand. After all, he too knew exactly what his brethren were capable of. If it was the other way around, he was convinced he would have shot too…
"Stop!" He heard Carys suddenly scream as his body jolted to the left. She had seemingly appeared out of nowhere, and yet was suddenly by his side, just when he thought he had been abandoned. A shot had been fired, and Carys let out a small hiss of pain, the sound of seared armour and flesh surely sounding afterwards as it became clear that the laser shot had caught her in the right shoulder. She staggered momentarily from the pain, before holding up her hands in half surrender. "He means you no harm…please, stop…"
"Stand down, civilian." The closest knight yelled. "You can't protect muties!" His gun was still firmly pointed in Fawkes' direction.
"No…" Carys shook her head, moving so that her body was stood directly in between the knights and Fawkes. "He's not like the others. He's with me, my…companion…"
"You're insane!"
"Don't you think it's strange that he hasn't attacked you yet?" She yelled back, standing firm.
"This could all be a trick…"
"Or it might be the truth…" Reaching inside her pocket, Carys pulled out a solitary holotag, throwing it across the earth towards them. "Read that…my name is Carys James, a member of Lyon's pride." She smiled triumphantly. "Why would I try to trick you?"
The look on the knight's face was priceless as he eyed the holotag, swallowing slightly before advancing, waving for the others to carefully follow. Although he now stood in front of Carys, he still held his gun tightly, eyeing Fawkes constantly.
"I'm not sure I understand…" He held the holotag back out to her.
"Fawkes is unique among his kind…through his mutation he has managed to keep his sanity…his humanity." She nodded softly. "He travels with me as my protector."
"And…you trust him?"
"Completely." Carys smiled, although this time she glanced back to Fawkes, as if speaking to him. "I'm certain he's saved my life countless times already."
"If you vouch for him…" The knight said slowly. "Then I cannot attack him. However, that won't stop any of my brothers from doing so."
"Is there no way to warn them?"
"Only through word of mouth at the citadel." The knight shrugged. "But that will take time…and it's not perfect." He nodded to the holotag now dangling from Carys' hand. "If you want to protect him, he should wear that. It might help identify him from the other muties…"
Later, alone again, Carys had tended to his wounds, administering precious stimpaks and bandaging them where necessary. Fawkes had tried to tell her that it was a waste, that although painful his mutated DNA would eventually repair the damage faster than she could imagine. But she would hear none of it, even treating him before she even thought to tend to her own battle wounds.
Fawkes smiled at the memory. It seemed all so long ago, and yet it was still their life in the wastes. News seemed to spread, and some people came to look out for the lone wanderer and her strange super mutant companion. But they would always meet resistance, people who would suspect. Quite rightly too, after all, Fawkes knew all too well the atrocities that his kind had committed, were yet to commit. But through it all, he knew that the one person who mattered, to him anyway, trusted him completely. Enough to risk her own life for him. Even if Fawkes knew he would risk his a hundred times over to save her if it were possible to do so. After all, now he had his answer. It had taken him two months to realise that he could quite easily leave, and mere seconds to realise why he hadn't. He stayed because he needed her, Carys, the woman who kept his human side alive even when he felt his primal self pulling it away. And although it might be presumptuous and possibly a little arrogant of him to think, he genuinely believed that Carys needed him too.
After all, they were both misfits in a land that was ruled by affiliations and gangs. She the fresh faced vault dweller, the girl baptised by fire, broken and bruised by gunfire, wearied by radiation and grief. And he, the civilised "mutie", no longer a man and not yet an abomination, a culmination of old knowledge and a scattered past. Yes, alone they were strong, but together? Together their companionship could only ever make them stronger. And if this was all Fawkes' existence would be, travelling through the wastes to whatever end, then he knew that he would continue to follow her, no matter what might lie ahead.
He'd chosen his name well. As, just like his namesake, Fawkes was determined to die for something he believed in too. Her.
My first dive into Fallout fiction! I hope you liked it, and of course, if you did and have time to review then I will be eternally grateful. :D
-x-S-x-