Well, Company in Exile wins this round. Keep up the reviews so you can get your next update even quicker. Hope you enjoy.


The light came slowly, starting first as a slit and widening until Ian could see the whole room around him. It was dim light, provided by a single bulb that dangled from the veiling by a cord. A dull luminance poured from the bulb, painting the room with dingy light and leaving weak shadows in the corners.

Ian sat up slowly in the bed, causing it to let out a squeal. Ian hardly noticed it though, since an unexpected twinge of pain caused him to groan and clutch his right shoulder. Looking down at it, Ian was surprised to find a thick patch of scar tissue with a dip in the middle. Sliding his fingers over the scar and feeling the pit wonderingly, Ian's fingers suddenly leapt to the back of his shoulder and found another mass of extra thick skin.

Ian shuddered and tried to work his shoulder around in the socket. The stab of pain was less this time, since he had been expecting it. Just a slight pinch, easily ignorable.

He looked around, first at the bed itself for a few moments, but his gaze quickly moved on to survey the rest of the room. There wasn't much to see, but each thing he saw was like a molten syringe jetting a single realization into his system over and over again.

Ian saw a three leveled shelf that was covered in rust. A variety of small objects littered its surfaces including a wooden handled knife, a scratched ceramic plate, and a bleached skull that had apparently belonged to some kind of horned animal.

The shelf screamed at him, specifically the rust. There was never rust in the vault. The first time he'd seen rust was on the great vault door. Other than that he'd only read about it in books. The animal skull was disturbing as well. The only animal Ian had ever seen were the occasional radroaches, but this was obviously something else entirely.

From his place in the bed, Ian examined the other furnishings and aspects of the room: a battered coffee table, a doorway set at the far end of the room, and a bed across from his. From where he was, Ian couldn't see any details of the person's face but he could recognize the back of Amata's head sticking out of the blankets.

The guilt was a smack in the face. He'd taken Amata from her home. Stolen her from a safe place. All on a whim, a moment's decision. And he'd killed her father. Murdered him while she was trying to help him escape. Ian thought he might throw up, thinking about all he'd done to his friend.

Instead he took a shaky breath and got out of the bed. A momentary look proved his suspicion, Ian was naked except for his underwear. His gaze swept through the room again, quickly coming upon the Vault-issue backpack leaning against the foot of the bed. He tore it open and quickly began pulling on one of the clean jumpsuits.

As he dressed, something occurred to Ian. His backpack was here, with the two jumpsuits, the baseball, the mitt, and Butch's jacket. But he couldn't see any of his other stuff. No pistol, no bat, not even the BB gun remained.

In a few moments he had dressed and was wondering what to do next. He wasn't able to wonder for long, though, since a man walked in through the doorway just a few seconds later. He dark skin that was sharply contrasted by the short cut white hair that covered his head and chin. A stethoscope hung around his neck, marking him a doctor.

"So you're finally awake, how 'bout the other one?" the man said in weary tones, glancing over at Amata's sleeping form, "Guess not. Let me take a look at your wound." Ian unzipped the jumpsuit slightly and showed the doctor his shoulder. It seemed to be healed and the doctor said so.

Ian stood silent for a short moment after the man finished speaking. For the slightest amount of time, he just stared at the man and at the room beyond him. Then Ian began to speak.

"How is she? Uh, doctor, is Amata okay?" The doctor responded with, "Ah, your friend will be fine. She had a bullet wound but I've taken care of that already. Now it's just a question of when she'll wake up. Her body is still weak from the accelerated recovery.

Another question sparked in Ian's mind, nagging at him. "How long has it been? How long I been… unconscious?" The doctor sighed and said, "Two days, well… almost three, now. More like two and a half. Now do you have any more questions, because I do have other patients to attend to."

Ian shook his head and watched the man start to go. The doctor paused for a moment before leaving the room. He said, "Oh yeah, the fees for the two of you totaled to two hundred and thirty caps, but Moira Brown took care of them for you. Before doing anything else, I'd suggest talking to her." Ian nodded and the man walked off into another room, out of Ian's sight.

"Caps…?" Ian murmured to himself, looking back at Amata's sleeping form. The resulting was the same stab of guilt that seemed to come whenever he thought of his friend. Turning away, Ian grabbed his backpack from the foot of the bed and walked away.

Ian left the building and immediately pulled his hand up to shade his eyes. The light burned and left him blind for a few moments. Eventually his vision started to become clearer, losing its painful blurriness by the second.

Ian walked down the metal ramp, still shading his eyes, and onto a surface of packed dirt. It was hard and dry, packed and seamless except for the deep spider-webbing fissures that came from constant sun heating. As he walked, Ian could feel the ground's heat seeping through the thin soles of his vault issue shoes. He decided then and there to get something better, boots or at least something thicker than the insubstantial cloth slippers he wore now. Ian wasn't sure how far he could go if his feet were constantly broiling.

Ian gazed around the town wonderingly, taking in the colors of rust and dirt through his sun-weakened eyes. Moira Brown. That was who he had to talk to, but who was she? And where?

Ian saw a person walking past and called out to him, "Hey! Could you help me…" The baldheaded man glared at Ian and quickly cut him off with a scathing bark of, "Help yourself yah Vault pussy!" Without having actually stopped moving, the man walked off and left Ian standing there. For a moment Ian considered saying something to the man, but the rifle slung over his shoulder froze the words in Ian's through.

A friendly chuckle sounded from behind Ian and caused him to spin around. "Don't mind Jericho," the man said, "He might act pretty rough, but I don't think he'd actually hurt you." Ian looked up at the man, who was several inches taller, and found his gaze drawn to the black leather eye patch he wore. Besides that, a faded bandana, rough leather clothes, and a welcoming grin marked the man. "You're that kid Moira found out by the Vault aren't yah? You and that girl. The names Billy Creel, if you need anything you can go ahead and talk to me."

The mention of Moira spurred Ian to speak, "Yeah, um, could you help me find Moira."

"Sure thing, she's usually up at her shop all day, Craterside…" Billy paused for a moment and said, "Ah, Nevermind, I'll just show you the way there. Come on, follow me."

Ian did just that and Billy led him across the scorched ground and up a series of metal ramps. They went past several tattered buildings, among which a few were obviously homes. At one point, Billy stopped and pointed at a largish two story house. "That's where I live, me and Maggie. You need anything, you come talk to me." Ian nodded and Billy led on.

From there they went straight to a building with a sign proclaiming it to be "Craterside Supply"

"We'll," Billy said, "Here we are, Moira runs this place. Catch ya' later." At that, Billy walked away, down a ramp and quickly disappeared from sight.

Ian put his hand on the doorknob, took a deep breath and entered. The interior of the building was dim, a relief for Ian's sun-strained eyes. The only light came from a single lantern on a coffee table and the thin beams that floated down from above.

At first glance, Ian only saw two people in the room. Behind the counter was a brown haired woman wearing an engineer's jumpsuit. A name tag on the left breast had Frank A. stenciled on, but at some point it had been crossed out with a black marker. Below, the name Moira B. was written sloppily with what seemed to be the same marker.

Across the counter from her, there was an elderly man with patchy white hair. His skin looked old and tough despite the wrinkles that crawled across it. Hidden among the deep set wrinkles was an obviously unhappy scowl.

"It was supposed to be here by now!" the man whined at her.

"Oh, now don't worry Nathan. I'm sure your parts will be here any day now, "she said with cheerful assurance.

The man, Nathan, grumbled then turned away from her without a word and headed for the door. As he passed Ian, then man muttered something about "American duty" and disappeared out the door and into the blinding light.

With a relieved chuckle, Moira turned away from Ian and said, "Whew, am I glad he's gone. Nathan just gives me the willies with all that talk about the enclave." From a deep shadow in the corner, Ian heard a course grunt and a man's voice said, "You've got company."

Only then did Ian see the third person, the man standing in the corner with a gun sticking over his shoulder. His arms were crossed over each other, with a smoldering cigarette balancing between the fingers of one hand. Dark hair hung over his eyes, but Ian could still see the man's piercing glare, watching his every movement, waiting for him to become a threat.

The man was dangerous; everything about him seemed to scream that. Something in the way he lounged against the wall said that he didn't need to be prepared or even particularly alert to handle any threat.

An excited sounding voice tore Ian's eyes away from the man in the corner. They flew back to Moira and found her looking at him with a very… fascinated was the word. A very fascinated look on her face.

"Oh!" she exclaimed, "You're awake! Finally! How is the other one, the girl? Is she awake yet?"

Ian shook his head and Moira slowed down for a moment to express concern before beginning the cheerful tirade again.

"You're from the vault, aren't you? The two of you… I recognized the jumpsuit. I'll tell you, I haven't seen one of those for a long time. Would you mind answering a few questions for me? I'm writing a book, you see, and a preface from a real live vault dweller would be quite a preface indeed! Now what do you say?"

The wave of words subsided for a moment. Ian felt out of breath just by listening to the woman speak. He stood silent for a moment, trying to translate the rushed words into something he could actually understand. Then, with Moira looking at him expectantly, Ian agreed to answer a few questions.

"Oh splendid!" she said, practically overflowing with enthusiasm, "Okay, well… first question. Why did you leave? I guess that's as good a place to start as any."

Ian dug through his memories, trying to push away the guilt and regret and to sort the relevant parts from the otherwise. "I'm chasing after my dad, I guess," was all he could think to say at first, "He left in the middle of the night and… well I couldn't stay anymore after that."

"Oh…" Moira said sadly, shaking her head, "What a sad start. But what about the girl?"

"Amata," he said simply, "and I'm Ian. Well, she didn't want to leave. She's my friend and she was… she was helping me escape." As he recounted their last moments in the vault, Ian felt the guilt stabbing at him anew. "She got shot…" he had to pause for a moment, "She got shot and I had to bring her with me. My dad was the doctor, and if I didn't bring her…" she would still be there, in the vault, with her friends if not her father. All his fault. "…she would've died," Ian finished.

"Such a tragedy," Moira said sympathetically, "I'm sure she'll forgive you… given enough time."

The room was quiet for a moment, still and silent until the man in the corner coughed softly and Moira seemed to snap out of her somber mood. "Well, on to question two. What do you think of Megaton so far? Not just the buildings, I mean the people, the location, everything!" Moira concluded with a grin.

"I haven't seen much of it, I've only been conscious for about twenty minutes." Ian said, but upon seeing the disappointed look on her face he immediately added, "It seems fine so far. I'll let you know when I've seen more of it."

The disappointment faded and she continued the questioning. Moira asked his opinion on everything from the humidity to the color of the sky, and couldn't be appeased until he had been wrung dry of his thoughts on the subject.

Finally the questions came to a close and after a short silence Ian began to speak again, "The doctor said you paid for our bills. Why?"

"It's simple really. If I let you die, who knows when I'd have another chance to talk to a vault dweller. The last one to come through here was ten years ago, and she was in such a rush that she didn't want to answer my questions. But speaking of questions, I do want to get that money back, if not in a direct manner. I've got some more questions, beside the ones I've already asked you. The only thing is, you don't know the answers… yet."

Suspicions rose in Ian, and he had to ask, "What are you driving at?"

"When I found you, I was out doing some research on wild Brahmin. The only problem is that, unlike you, I'm not one for danger or conflict."

"And you think I am?" Ian demanded in disbelief.

"Well… I did find you with a bullet wound, and you survived that so you've got experience that I don't. But don't worry, it won't be dangerous. I've just got a few research opportunities that are a bit too… um… exciting… for my tastes. Nothing much. I'll pay you the same I'd pay a research assistant, plus a bonus if you bring me anything really good."

"But…" Ian began but Moira cut him off.

"I've got three interesting research opportunities, and once you check them out for me you'll be free to go."

Ian moaned quietly, but apparently Moira heard him.

"Oh stop complaining," she said dismissively, "This is all going into that book I told you about. Okay, well the first one is simply testing a mole-rat repellant I've worked up. For your convenience I went ahead and made an applicator. Just test it on a few of them and let me know how it works."

"Go on," Ian said. He had no idea what mole-rats were, but they didn't sound pleasant. Maybe the next one would be better.

"Okay, well here's an exciting one. Apparently there's a ghost town north of here called Minefield. I'm sure there aren't any ghosts there, but I'd like to get a look at one or two of those landmines. Maybe if I took a few apart I'd be able to put in a chapter about them."

"Hmm, landmines," Ian said, his voice disguising the growing terror he was feeling, "What about the third one?"

"Collecting food in the wasteland." Moira said matter-of-factly, "Food's pretty scarce out here in the wasteland, but if people can find little pockets of prewar food they should be able to survive. Your job would be to check out an old prewar grocery store and see if those little pockets are still around or if they've been all cleaned out."

"That one actually sounds reasonable," Ian said, surprised.

"What, are you saying the other ones weren't?" demanded Moira, sounding hurt.

"Are you kidding!" Ian wanted to say, but instead he just pretended he had been the crazy one and that they were perfectly sane things to do.

"Oh, well in that case you should go talk to Sheriff Simms. He's been holding your weapons to make sure you didn't try and make a run for it. You should try looking for him down by Moriarty's. I think I heard him say he was gonna be looking in on him today. Who knows how long that'll take?"

Ian nodded and left, heading toward the saloon Billy had shown him. It took him a while to reach the place because he kept getting lost in the spider web of ramps. It seemed at one point that Ian was just a few feet from the place, but after circling around again and again on the ramp system he found himself at the front door close to a half hour later.

Opening the door, Ian felt as if he had been punched in the face by the heavy fog of smoke that hung in the air. Ian coughed and stepped inside, waving the air in front of him so he could breathe. The light was dim, just barely enough to see by.

It took a near minute for Ian's eyes to adjust from the blinding light to the murky dimness of this place. He took a step forward and found himself face to face with a woman. She had messy red hair that was cut short, and wore a tan jacket that didn't hide much.

"Hi," she said in a charmingly husky voice, "Did you come by for a drink? Or were you looking for a little something else?"

"I'm looking for Lucas Simms," Ian said solidly, purposefully maintaining eye contact, "I was told I could find him here."

She laughed, "Sheriff's not here kid, probably back at his house."

"Oh, could you tell me where that is?" Ian said, more than half expecting a response like Jericho's.

She laughed again and said, "Sure thing kid," before continuing on to give Ian directions to the sheriff's house. Having finished that, she walked away and sat back in a chair that faced the door.

Ian turned back toward the door and started to leave, but a voice calling from an adjoining room made him pause.

"Hey, you in the jumpsuit, "the voice said, "Come here, I have something to discuss with you."

Ian looked once between the door and the voice and opted to approach the room. Having waded through the smoke, Ian found himself alone in a small room with a man wearing a grey suit.

"Have a seat," the man said, gesturing to a nearby chair. Ian sat and the man began speaking immediately.

"I couldn't help but notice your jumpsuit and I thought, 'this man is from a vault, one of the last remnants of true society. If anyone in this place has an ounce of intelligence and refinement, it would him'. You see, I have a certain… proposal… that I could only relay to an individual of your… caliber."

"Go on," Ian said, "I'm listening." He was, but not wholeheartedly. Something in the man's manner or visage sparked suspicion. Maybe it was as simple as the opaque glasses that hid his eyes, or the fact that his voice fell just short of a menacing growl no matter how calm he seemed.

"Ah, I knew you would be intrigued. You see, my employer noticed this scrap heap some time ago and charged me with… removing it."

Ian's suspicion skyrocketed.

"And how would I fit into the equation," Ian said calmly, hoping that the meekness would hide his inner panic. What was he going to do? This man wanted to "remove" the town, and he wanted Ian's help. What was he going to do?

"There is only so much that a man such as myself can do to dirty my hands. Only so far he could go before a compatriot would be made necessary to undertake such… matters."

"You want me to do your dirty work." Ian said matter-of-factly, continuing on before the man could, "What kind of dirty work? I need to know what I'm getting myself into."

The man grinned.

"Understandable. Respectable. Have you seen the bomb these people have built their town on top of?"

Ian had. While climbing around the network of ramps, he couldn't help but notice the bomb that lay embedded in the town center. He'd seen it in the corner of his eye as he left the hospital and it always seemed to be there, waiting for something.

"Of course I have," Ian said briskly, "What about it?"

"A careless choice, this location location. One more act of carelessness and this rubble could be… cleared away."

"You want an explosion," Ian said, barely able to hide his shock as the man nodded, "What makes you think I could manage something like that?"

"Me and my employer have taken care of that," the man said, producing a tangle of wires and circuits from a pocket of his coat, "Just open the operating hatch, drop this in, then report to us at Tenpenny tower in the southwest."

The man handed Ian the "thing" and waved a hand. "Go," he said, "There will be a substantial reward awaiting you in the tower."

Ian pocketed the thing, stood, and walked away without looking back. He left the building and headed along the ramps. He stared at the bomb for a few moments as he walked, then consciously looked away from it for the remainder of his walk. Eventually he found himself at the sheriff's house.

Ian knocked on the door, and about a minute later it opened. A tall, dark skinned man wearing a leather duster and a matching hat appeared. A gold star marked him as the sheriff. There was a visible absence of nonsense in the man's eyes. He was imposing, to say the least.

"What is it?" the man, Lucas Simms, said gruffly. He paused for a moment, seeming to recognize Ian, then added, "I suppose you're here to get your things. Have you been to see Moira yet?"

Ian nodded and the man disappeared back into the house for a moment. He returned with the bat and BB gun clutched in one huge hand and the gun in the other.

"Here they are, but don't go causing any trouble."

As Lucas Simms handed over the weapons, Ian burst out, "There's a man in Moriarty's who wanted me to rig the bomb to explode. He gave me this."

The outburst caught the sheriff by surprise and he paused with the BB gun and bat still in his hand. Ian pulled the thing from his pocket and showed it to the man.

"Jesus! Give me that thing!" Lucas Simms snatched the bundle of wires from Ians grasp and tossed the bat and rifle onto a table that Ian could see through the doorway. "Come with me, take me to him."

However much the sheriff said for Ian to lead him there, Lucas Simms didn't do much following. The man nearly ran the whole way there forcing Ian to dash ahead of him in order to reach the building first. Lucas Simms paused outside, pulling the rifle from its place at his shoulder. "Where is he?" the man asked.

"In the room off to the right, sitting in one of the chairs." Ian informed him.

The sheriff nodded and growled the name, "Burke…" before throwing open the door and entering. Ian slipped in the door behind him and followed over to the small adjoined room.

Burke was still sitting there, irked patience carved into his face. The man didn't seem to react to the sheriff approaching, and just kept staring through the large man and his gun.

"Dammit Burke! You're tryin' to blow up my town!" Simms roared, pointing the barrel halfway toward the man.

Burke, holding onto his patient face despite the rage in his voice, said softly, "I'm sure there's been a misunderstanding. You see, I thought I'd found a suitable intellect in this boy and I attempted to engage him in a passing conversation on the internal mechanics of wartime technologies, but I guess it must've gone over his head."

"Nevertheless," the sheriff growled, "You'll have to come with me until we can get this whole thing straightened out."

"I'm afraid I really can't accompany you, sheriff," he said, emphasizing his disdain for the title, "I have other pressing matters at hand."

"And I'm afraid that you really have no choice in the matter. You're in my town, you're coming with me. Get moving."

Burke growled something and started to stand from the chair. Lucas Simms turned to lead him away, but Ian caught sight of the dull metal of a gun sticking out of his pocket. Ian saw Burke's hand moving toward the weapon, and he saw his hand delve into the pocket.

Moving quickly, Ian's hand shot for his own gun and drew it out a moment before Burke. His bullet left the barrel a moment before Burke's and drove itself through the man's wrist even as he began to pull his own trigger.

Time had frozen, allowing the whole thing to happen in the blink of an eye. Time began again, moving frantically fast in an effort to catch up.

Burke roared in pain. Burke's gun fired. Blood shot from the hole in Burke's wrist. Burke dropped his gun. Lucas Simms spun around, his gun raised and ready to fire. The people in the bar reacted, half of them reaching for weapons while the other half cowered away from the gunshots. Burke fell backward into the chair, clutching his ruined arm and spitting out obscenities.

"That's a quick hand you've got there," Lucas Simms said, the relief audible in his voice, "You saved my life with it. Saved the town with it."

The sheriff reached into his pocket and pulled out two things, handing them to Ian. The first was an old tarnished key, and the other was a gold star that closely resembled Simms's own.

"The key's for that old house above the brass lantern. Least I can do for saving my life and helping me capture Burke. We could use that kind of help, the town could. That's what the badge's for. If you'll stick around after Moira's done with you, well… we could use another deputy."

"Thanks," was all Ian could think to say as he looked at the badge for another moment before pocketing it.

"Think on it," the sheriff said, tucking Burke's gun into his pocket and grabbing the man by his neck, "Besides, if you're gonna make it out here, you'll need something to protect and something to protect you. You'll find both here."

Lucas Simms left after that, dragging Burke out with him.

Ian left just moments afterward, but the sheriff was nowhere to be seen. Ian headed back to Craterside Supply, traversing the spider web of ramps until he was back at the building.

Going inside, Ian found that it was just Moira and the man in the corner.

"Oh, you're back!" Moira said cheerily, "You got your weapons from Lucas Simms?"

"Yeah," Ian said, thinking regretfully about the bat he'd forgotten to return for. The BB gun really was a poor weapon, but the bat could be decent. Too bad. "I got my gun," he concluded.

"Oh good," she said.

"Now I just need a map or directions or something," Ian said. He didn't really want to go wandering around, hoping to find the place he was looking for.

"No need," Moira said, "Markus knows the way, and since he'll be going with you, there's really no need for me to tell both of you."

At the mention of the name Markus, the man in the corner jerked his head over toward Moira and protested. "What? No way am I gonna go off and do any of your bullshit suicide research."

Moira turned to face the man, saying admonishingly, "Of course you won't be doing any actual research. You'll just be doing what you do best, guarding. Just make sure he doesn't die or disappear once he gets outside the walls, that shouldn't be so hard."

"Sure I can keep tabs on him," the man, Markus, said, "It's the other part I've got a problem with. How am I supposed to keep him alive if he's waltzing around, wearing fucking pajamas and carrying a peashooter! It's hard enough keeping yourself alive when you're not stuck towing around dead weight!"

"Alright, fine," Moira said, giving in, "I get it, I'll loan him some better gear. Will that make you happy?"

"No, I'm not happy to be leading a goddamn kitten through that shithole, but this is a hell of a lot better in my book."

Moira sighed and said, "Well, get your things. I'll loan him some stuff, so long as you make sure he doesn't run off with it."

Markus left the room and Ian could hear him rummaging through something in the other room.

"Well, sweetie," Moira said cheerfully, turning to Ian, "I guess you'll be getting some loaners for this trip. I've got a few things in mind, but do you have any requests?"

Ian stood frozen for a moment before looking down at his feet, then back at her and saying, "Shoes, or boots, or something."

"Hmm, boots," Moira said thoughtfully, "That gives me an idea."