"…"

"Drink," the stranger repeated, with emphasis this time. "The expression on your face indicates distrust, looking as though I am to poison you."

Lifting her head was out of the question; her bones felt heavy as iron despite the pain being gone. She had already deducted she was in a cave of some sort, the air cool and moist, and the only beings in said cave were her and the mysterious stranger, who continued to gaze at her with concern. Based on his shadow, the stranger was a big and imposing physical presence who moved around with a mixture of heft and lightness.

The stranger held the flask to her lips this time, getting the message. Christine tasted it as he poured it slowly into her mouth; crisp and cold, distinctly metallic in taste. How amazing, the taste of water.

Her tongue felt a bit heavy in her mouth. "Thank you…"

"Water - one of the few currencies and delicacies I have to offer. Think nothing of it." His voice was very, very deep. He turned to go and light a fuse in the cave, which illuminated his face. What Christine saw was a worn, lined face with a mouth set in an almost permanent thin line, dreadlocks hanging down neatly from his head. His duster was rugged and weather-beaten, telling of several years on the road. But it was the contemplative stare in his small eyes that interested Christine. Amazing.

"What… happened?"

"To put it simply, you were freed from the chains of evil that bound you."

"A little more plainly would be nice…"

"Perhaps you recall the explosion, shaking the ground?"

"Yes."

"My hands caused that."

All at once the memory coalesced in her mind. The mysterious person at the door – who else? It was that man. In the heat of the moment, Christine had blindly thought it was Elijah come to finish her off at last.

"Why?"

"You question my rescuing you?" Before Christine could answer, he went on. "The why of it matters, I suppose. Upon my arrival here, I saw the conflict – between the hunter and the hunted, the runaway and the mercenary. I observed your brief standoff, fierce and alone; I also observed how the hunted managed to elude you, managed to wound you. From thence, I rescued you."

Christine silently glanced at the man, wondering a million things at once, such as why he cared so much, why he found out, what he was doing there.

"You seem to have questions."

"Yes… Why are you here? And how did you get here?"

"Questions do have a habit of making others." He cleared his throat and began. "The road that brought me here – it was not a physical one, nor a rough one. The Divide is from which I come."

"The Divide?" Suddenly the worn expression made even more sense than before.

"Yes. A place barely clinging to the remnants of life, of America-that-Was. America-that-Was remains sleeping there, and it dreams of dust, ash, and lightning. Said storms were caused by man – by another flag. Following the weather patterns was not difficult – it led me here."

"Amazing. But what provoked you?"

"To be frank, none of your business."

"I have a right to know."

The man chose not to answer this time. "You ask many questions. I can tell you come from under a flag, and therefore I have questions for you."

"Of course. Anything."

"Begin from whence this all started."

"H'm. Is that all?"

Gathering her thoughts, Christine began. She was a member of the Circle of Steel, a more freethinking and active extension of the Brotherhood of Steel – to which Ulysses did not need an introduction, he knew of them vaguely. One fine morning, the former Elder of the Brotherhood, Elijah, deserted the Brotherhood after a cataclysmic defeat trying to capture an NCR base, Helios One. From thence, Elijah began to leave a trail of crimes across the Mojave in his attempts to gather technology for himself, which he believed would change the world.

It was of paramount importance that Elijah be stopped, and Christine was the most capable woman for the job. She was dispatched to hunt him down, locating him at the Big Empty. It was easy to find out why Elijah came here – for how barren it looked on the surface, it was rife with scientific technology from the past, which was a golden chance for the opportunistic Elijah. Christine tracked him down and confronted him, but the Elder had well-prepared for this.

"…And so he used those… those ghouls from the internment camp to make his escape, along with a bunch of security robots. I tried to fend them off as best I can, but I hadn't cleaned my plasma rifle in a while and my laser pistol simply wasn't enough. I got blasted, and then… woke up in that room."

That awful room, full of pain and darkness.

"A man, hounded to the ends of the earth for his blind attempts to change the world. It sounds all too familiar."

Christine laughed, cynically. At least her throat felt better.

"You left a voice recording."

"You found it?!"

"Listened, briefly. Electrodes were jammed into the skull?"

Christine winced, and tears sprang to her eyes. "Don't remind me."

He nodded, briefly. Suddenly, he rose from his position and wandered over to a trestle table that had been there for a while. From her position, all Christine could make out was a small tangle of wires which she assumed was a shortwave radio, though she wasn't sure. The man returned, carrying a book.

"You're… going to read to me?"

"Look at the cover."

Christine eased herself on her elbows, and glanced at the cover. A cross… but strangely, underneath some indecipherable words. A foreign language, perhaps? "The Holy Bible."

"Correct."

"Wait, wait! In what language is your Bible in?"

He gazed at her for a moment, and Christine could not make anything out of it. He began to turn some pages, some dust arising from its interior. "You know how to read?"

"Of course."

"Read this passage to me." He handed it to her, gingerly.

Christine took the book… and was shocked. These words had to be foreign – they were nothing more than garble. Too startled to even try to read, she skimmed over the two pages in her face, and found she simply could not read any of it.

"I have not been trained in many foreign languages. What does this word say?"

"After this."

"That's the English translation?"

"No. That's the English."

This worried Christine. "A-and this one?!"

"Covenant law."

"This one!"

"Opened."

"NO!" Christine flung the book into a nearby, rocky wall, and was satisfied by the resonating sound it made. Fear was present in her every core. How?! How can this be possible? It was garbage!

The stranger then put a thick piece of paper and breathed steadily. "Write something, anything."

Christine grasped the small pencil he handed her, and put it to the paper… and then stopped. How did one write? Suddenly her initial panic soared. After a while, all she could manage was: "I can't."

"The evil has possession of your brain's functions. The electrodes ate away at your skull, and it appears one of the side effects is that you cannot read nor write…" For once, emotion came through the man's voice.

Her frustration boiled over. "What?! No, you're wrong! That's not possible, your deductions aren't correct! I know how to shuffle a deck of cards, I know y equals mx+b, I know exactly how tall I am, I… you're wrong! Wrong!"

Christine then stayed silent, as did the man. It was unbelievable – reading and writing, two of the most valuable possessions and talents to have in the Wasteland, taken away from her in an instant. I can still do math, and equations, and think and think and think…

"I am sorry. Perhaps the ability to observe the written word and to even write said word will return to you."

"…Perhaps. I just… please. Help me."

"Old scars do not heal quickly, but fresh wounds can be fixed with enough care. Leaving this place is not recommended – too much danger, for one so wounded. Don't need medicine to tell me that. Wait for a spell, a few days – then perhaps you will gain your strength back."

"Very well. Thank you. I only… have one question."

"Hm?"

"What is your name?"

"Ulysses. At least that's what it is now."

"What was your name beforehand?"

"It has been too long to remember."

[*]

Time – it was amazing how time changes things, how it heals and how it scars.

Christine grew stronger by the day, but leaving the Big Empty was out of the question. Color grew back to her face eventually, as life did to her mood. She and Ulysses rested in individual sleeping bags most of each day, awakening at dusk to eat and talk and assess her condition. She would ask to be taken outside sometimes, which Ulysses allowed only briefly. He understood how she felt each time they went outside for only a moment, gazing at the gyring stars in the night sky, finally free of being in the cool cave. But these tiny excursions never lasted long, for she would complain of hurt and return inside.

There would be days such as these, Ulysses knew, when her exterior cracked as the pain or the memories ate at her and she would simply have to remain strong when strength and raw will was her one valuable possession. Yet, Christine was generally content and very intelligent.

Somewhat argumentative, as well.

Ulysses and Christine were eating – breakfast for them, though it was fairly late at night – and it was one of these nights that he was aware of her ability to discuss philosophy.

"I don't really want to argue philosophy with you right now," Christine groaned as she took a bite. "Brotherhood are preservationists. Tech in the wrong hands, it's dangerous. Mojave's proof."

"No denying that," Ulysses said, all without glancing at her as he sat at the trestle table, eating. "Proof's here in this crater, all around us. Your tribe, the Brotherhood - haven't met many of you. Wanted to. Thought you might be the last chance for the Mojave... the West. The East."

He took a drink of water. "But you're all the same mind, obsessed."

Christine snorted, and Ulysses presumed she look at him with derision. "Elijah is obsessed. Mad. It's why they ordered his execution."

"Two are more alike than you believe, wrapped up in the wrong bits of history to see ahead."

Christine opened her mouth to protest, but Ulysses continued. "Not judging. I understand how it is. People are like… couriers, you and him. Sometimes don't even know the message they bring. You all had a new flag. Thought maybe new ideas along with it. What you believe isn't any better than the Bear or Bull. No future in either."

"Hmph. So says the man with the Old World flag on his back," Christine teased. "America, the Commonwealth... burned away."

At last, Ulysses turned to her and set a steady gaze on her, one of contemplation. "America sleeps. And until it's dead, I carry it. Just like I carried you. More than hope. Belief."

That silenced Christine, considering this claim with an expression between being puzzled and wholly understanding what he was talking about. Ulysses leaned back in his chair, eyeing the tin cup of water.

Yes, akin to how I carried you. From the facility… from the Elder.

One evening, Ulysses ate through his dinner quickly. "There's voices here in the Big Empty, I want to talk to them."

Christine looked as though she was unsure of what to make of this. The sky had darkened from purple to black. Stars by the hundreds, the moon's flickering light passing into the cave; no sounds at all except for their own voices. It was a good night, the kind of weather Ulysses preferred – it was weather in which he could think coherently.

"…Voices?"

"Not going to talk to them like your Elijah did. Got questions. Want to hear history give its answer."

She stared at him, dumbfounded, and could only laugh. "What are you…"

"There are loose ends in both your conflict and mine, and I plan to solve them tonight. Fix our problems."

He gathered materials in a thin knapsack: water, some food, a meagre amount of weapons and, interestingly, Christine's broken plasma rifle.

"…Ulysses?"

"Something else in you needing an answer?"

"Return safely."

"An empty promise. But I will attempt to. Get some rest."

Ulysses departed. His gaze fell on the fantastically huge dome that pierced the sky. Though he was unsure of the time, experience told him it was a little after one in the morning. Letting out a great, final sigh, he began his excursion to the dome, wanting to see what this world contained.

[*]

TBC! Let me know what you guys think.