Chapter 2

Sian spent a little over two weeks in Doc Mitchell's house. She didn't remember much more than her name but they found another scrap of paper in her bag that indicated that she was about 16 years of age.

The first few days consisted mainly of eating and sleeping, but the young girl felt stronger everyday. Soon she was roaming about the house, reading Doc's pre-war books, doing exercises and having long talks with Doc Mitchell about the situation in the Mojave.

He told her about his experiences travelling the wasteland, hoping something would trigger a memory. Occasionally the name of a city would catch Sian's attention for a split second but any feeling of recognition would pass quickly.
This infuriated her for the the first few days, even to the point of covert tears, but, with Doc Mitchell's help, she learned to accept her new situation.
After almost two weeks Doc came into her room one morning finding, not her, but a bunch of chemicals on the bed. Sian walked into the room pulling a towel off her head.

"Well, good morning, missy. That shade of blue's looking mighty fine. Not my first choice but if you like it."
The young girl stood by the open window and started to comb her hair. The dark blue shade she'd concocted completely changed her face, making the features sharper and her face appear older.
"Thanks. I needed a change. It's like you said, I'm not who I used to be anymore and I needed something to help me make that cut between the stranger I was and the person I am now."

She started to gather up the chemicals and returned them to their places on the desk.
"I poked around a bit and well, I realized that the smell and colours of most of the substances seemed familiar. I knew I'd created the right thing, don't know why or how I knew, but it worked."
The ambled into the kitchen together and Sian started making breakfast, something she picked up quickly because Doc Mitchell simply could not cook. How that man managed to feed himself was a mystery to her. Also, she found cooking enjoyable.
She brought two helpings of fried yucca banana with cactus fruit, while Doc got himself a coffee and a Sarsaparilla for her.
In her time at his house they had gotten into the habit of discussing things she read in Doc's books at mealtimes.

Today they got hung up on the differentiation between good and evil.
"But Doc, come on... Who decides what is good and what is evil? You? Me? Some obscure pre-war deity? I say something is good and you say the same thing is evil? Who's right, then?"
Doc Mitchell inhaled his coffee and got another. He would never understand how she could entertain such complex thoughts this early in the morning.
"Anyone ever tell you, that you ask difficult questions?"
The old man sighed and sat back down rubbing his eyes.
"I s'pose you're right though. I was taught by my parents. That's how it usually goes. You learn from the people who raise you."
Sian pushed her yucca banana around on her plate.
"I don't know if I was taught anything. And if I was, I don't know what I classified as good or evil. So what do I do, Doc? How do I know what the difference is?"
"I'm guessing, you have to rely on your instincts, you know, intuition? I've been living with you for two weeks and I'd say you have a pretty good understanding of wrong and right. And if you ever don't know, I'd say just follow your gut. You're a sweet girl, you've been helpful and kind all the time and I've never felt uncomfortable once. Don't worry about this so much, every decision you make, I'd back you up."
Sian was never sure what to make of that. She was glad that Doc Mitchell was so supportive, but she wasn't entirely sure that this was how the world worked.

This was the day Sian ventured outside.
Doc Mitchell sent her to a woman named Sunny smiles who was likely to help her figure out how to survive in the wasteland. Sian was pretty sure she didn't need that, but she decided to go simply to appease the man who took care of her.
Over the two weeks her few belongings had spread over the house and she was hunting them down. The few extra shirts and the second pair of pants were the easiest to pack, simply rolled up as tight as possible and stuffed into her messenger bag. Next came a few boxes of ammunition, which was strange as she didn't have a gun. She didn't linger on that too much though. She retrieved two thin, worn books from the living room. She had been surprised to find these within her bag, not really knowing why. They felt familiar though.
But she decided that these books were to be concealed, as Doc Mitchell had given her quite a few strange looks for reading them. They were written in two different languages, so maybe it simply wasn't common for wastelander's to have this level of education.
Next in came a few bottles of purified water and some medical supplies she'd been given.
The bag wasn't full yet, apparently she was packing very efficiently, but the only other things she had were a worn, but dangerously sharp combat knife and a black machete with a gracefully curved blade. It looked to be pretty new, but she couldn't be sure.
Without really thinking about it, Sian shoved the knife down her boot and grabbed the sheath for her machete. It looked home-made, fashioned out of sturdy leather lined with fur.
It went on her back and in one precise movement, the machete rested inside. She was geared up and ready to leave when the older man approached her.

"Sian, I know now, that this wouldn't have been necessary, but when you were brought here... I decided to rather be safe than sorry, I hope you understand..."

He held out a gun to her. A shiny, perfectly maintained Auto .45. The grip panel was fashioned out of what looked to be carved ivory, contrasting beautifully with the black weapon. She reached for it, the grip felt so familiar, it felt like power... and like home...
Sian was having a hard time controlling her emotions. She didn't know why this moment was so upsetting but she knew right away that this had been important to the girl she once was.
She was at a loss for words and simply looked at the Doc with her big black eyes.

"You... You didn't.. take my blades.." she managed to choke out.

Doc Mitchell sighed. He motioned for the girl to sit on the bed behind her while he claimed the chair.
"I took the gun from you, not because I was afraid you'd shoot me, but because I didn't know what to make of it. Same with that damn book of yours."
The blue haired girl looked at him, her eyes wide and confused.
He sighed again.
"Do me a favour, will ya? Read the words etched into the barrel."

Sian only just noticed the writing, and turning it from a side to another, she read.
"Si vis pacem... Para bellum." She looked at him with a raised brow.

"Tell me what that means, girlie. I don't speak Latin."

That word "Latin" let loose something akin to a storm flood in her brain. No real memories surfaced, only fragments and feelings of love and security, hate and fear. It took her a few minutes to focus back on the task at hand.
Now that she knew, that this was a different language, translating it was easy.
Keeping her eyes on the fine weapon she said: "If you want peace.. Prepare for war."