Whew! I finished the whole thing in one sitting. I'm feeling kinda self-conscious the further I write. I look back and see grammatical errors and inconsistencies with the game and slap myself. So please be gentle with any errors I make in the Fallout universe! And I recently discovered fanfiction dot net's beta reader program and now I'm yearning for one. Anyone here an open beta reader…? Haha, I wish.

Just Like in the Stories

After a long night camping out in the metro being serenaded by the howling of feral ghouls, I was more than happy to be blinded by the midday sunlight. Funny how a lifetime accustomed to inhabiting a one mile radius underground didn't keep me from feeling claustrophobic.

Super mutant corpses still littered the GNR plaza and I, with a smug expression, pointed to the Behemoth to show Charon I had not been making it up when I said I killed one. Actually, I wasn't sure if he had been listening in the metro when I decided my Heroic Wasteland Tales would be good for morale (Influenced by the installations on GNR, I briefly considered myself the next "Daring" of the Wastes - I had ghoul manservant too so I couldn't just let it go), and my ego took a bruising as he walked past the dead mutant with his masterful poker face. The bastard.

"What, you're not coming in?" I asked sourly when he stopped short of entering the door, bitter about the lack of acknowledgment.

"They don't take too kindly to ghouls." He explained simply, confusing me nonetheless.

I furrowed my brows. "The Brotherhood of Steel? No, they're the good guys! Prevented my untimely death by super mutants."

"Super mutants or ghouls, they have nothing against shooting either on sight." Charon shrugged and gave me a look I've come to recognize as a sign that I had missed the obvious.

"That must be a mistake. These guys protect people!" I still protested, unwilling to give up. The Brotherhood of Steel was like a group of knights in shining power armor – the champions of the weak, the defenders of justice, and so on. As I had said, they were the good guys of the story.

Charon wasn't impressed by my avid defense and sighed. "If you don't believe me, then I shall follow, but I can't guarantee it'll end peacefully."

I backed down when he reached for his shotgun. "No! I – Never mind..." I muttered, disheartened and a little overwhelmed. "I'll go by myself. Wait for me here, and don't shoot anyone if you can help it, okay?"

I was out of the GNR building as soon as I'd popped the coordinates of Rivet City into my Pip-Boy; my haste was initially due to a weird uneasiness I felt when I tried meet the gaze of the Brotherhood and flinched at the sight of their helmets, but was soon instilled by the eagerness to reach our next destination.

A city on a boat - I was excited to go and see it for myself.

"Ever been to Rivet City?" I asked Charon the second I was out the doors. A decided silence surprised me - I hadn't really expected an answer. He didn't look at me as we headed back into the metro, but that only served to feed my curiosity. "So tell me, what were you there for?"

"A job. Nothing to concern yourself with." I swear, he sounded blander than usual as he said this; as if talking in monotone would deter more questions. His plan failed, of course. It's an unwritten rule of knowledge that what you don't know, you find out about. Secrets in particular.

I decided this was a good time to utilize the contract. I had been tiptoeing around any orders if I could help it, but I thought this time it was for a good cause: getting Charon to open up. "We're going there next. Telling me a bit about it couldn't hurt, and it'll be productive to learn about each other." I start carefully, but see him stiffen as if to brace himself for what came next. "So tell me about your trip to Rivet City."

The conversation stopped as we entered the main area of the metro, but a coldness lingered. I knew he must have done worse things than have to talk to a curious young woman of all things, so I couldn't sympathize with his plight. I felt like he was overreacting, being the kid he always called me. I found it funny.

The station was empty; Charon and I had cleared out the feral ghouls on our previous trips. It was safe to talk and I threw him an expectant look.

Charon kept his eyes forward as he spoke. He gritted out every word. "It was before you were born." Before I was born? Charon was a ghoul so I couldn't identify his age, but he definitely did not give me the impression of an old man - sounded like one, but didn't appear to be one. I wondered how old the ghoul truly was, but determined that was a conversation for another day and kept my mouth shut by strength of will alone. "I was there on orders, to locate a specific person -"

My "strength of will" scattered to the winds. "Kinda like now." I interrupted with a grin, wanting to lighten the mood. He was going to be stuck with me for quite a while, so might as well learn how to loosen up. "You're helping me find my dad, and in Rivet City no less."

Charon paused and looked at me fixedly. "…and kill her." He finished and the grin fell off my face, feeling like a ton of lead.

"But I'm sure whoever it was, must've deserved it. Right?" I laughed a pitch higher than normal.

"No. She crossed my employer." His matter-of-fact attitude cast an insignificant light on the information – but it wasn't insignificant, it was murder.

"Oh…" I replied and we traveled in a cumbersome silence for the next hour. I unwillingly knew Charon had no choice when he got the orders to… make that girl disappear, but I still felt unease stewing in the pit of my stomach, along with the mild gurgling of hunger. As I munched on potato crisps, I would sneak glances at Charon who chose to follow some ways behind me; he seemed to notice and would meet my eyes every time. I quickly stopped and chose to focus on my Pip-Boy.

I grew up on books. Sometimes I would read books on history, scientific theories, and medicine (dad's educational curriculum was ridiculous, but when put to use in Mr. Brotch's class my ego multiplied in size), but the stories I was really fixated on were fiction, filled with pages where good and evil were easily distinguishable. The honest man always won in the end, or there was a moral point to be made that left no doubt on what was right and what was wrong. I loved the solidity of those stories.

Charon was the antithesis of all the truths I'd formed growing up. I couldn't put "the moral of the story is..." to his upbringing or his actions – I couldn't categorize him. It left me aghast and made me want to punch the wall.

I didn't. Punch the wall, that is. I sucked in old air through my teeth and fell into step beside the ghoul. "Will anyone recognize you when we get there? You should tell me now; I don't want to be chased out by an angry mob."

"They wouldn't recognize me." Charon brushed off my concern. "I hadn't… acquired this form at the time. And in any case, there can't be many of the original populace is left."

"Wait. How long ago was this 'trip'?" I wrinkled my nose, bemused.

"More than thirty years ago."

I was dumfounded. "More than – Dr. Barrows wasn't kidding when he said you guys age slowly." Charon shrugged; the conversation was finished.

I wasn't having that. "Did you know her?" I asked quietly.

"I did." His rough voice held a trace of bitterness, enough for me to pick up and know I shouldn't delve any further… for now.

I was greeted by a bullet imbedding itself in front of my feet when I stepped off the stairs of the metro. I swore none too gently and took an involuntary step back towards the grated doors.

"Ambush." Charon scowled and lifted his shotgun toward the unseen assailant. "Good thing they can't aim."

I threw him a less than amused glare before glancing at the stairs uncertainly. We could go back the way we came, but that would take another day at the very least, and I was unsure of any other ways to get to Rivet City. The only way to find my dad was to continue onwards, and yet… "I take it we can't go forward. What's the plan?"

Another shot whizzed past my ear and Charon pulled me down as successive gunshots rang out. He returned it this time, taking a chunk of stone out of the wall the attacker was using as a shield. He ducked and glanced at me.

"The plan is you stay back."

"W-what? No way!" I spluttered and whipped out my hunting rifle. "Let me help, I'm not letting the SOB get away with shooting at me." And I couldn't sit still knowing I would be sending Charon out in harm's way in place of me.

"As you wish." He grounded out, obviously unenthusiastic at the idea. But an order was an order and he couldn't disobey.

"Quit your worrying, I can handle myself fine. Bet you fifty caps I can hit the next guy that pops up." I peeked to the side of our hiding spot and pulled the trigger; I was rewarded by the metallic clatter of a gun hitting the floor and a grunt of pain. I'd hit my target and it felt good.

I sent Charon a grin that said 'I told you so' (and I swear, honest to God, that humorless bastard returned it) and continued to exchange fire.

Gunfights don't last long, especially when Charon makes every bullet count. For a ghoul that uses a shotgun, he's first-rate at aiming. I holstered my rifle and approached the bodies, turning on my Pip-Boy's light because in the dark it was hard to distinguish the three from the background. I met the glassy blue eyes of one of the men and my previous confidence all but fled – I shut my eyes and tried to swallow unsuccessfully; my throat was constricting uncomfortably.

"Talon Company." Charon muttered, either having not noticed, or ignored my distress. I counted it as a blessing and struggled to compose myself.

"Who're they?" I choked out and counted the cracks in the cement. One, two, three, four, blood filling up crack five…

"Mercenaries." I heard shuffling, then the rustle of paper. "…The Lone Wanderer. They were after you." The Lone Wanderer, a title graciously given to me by Three Dog. I took a liking to the name – it was mysterious and reminded me of the Wild West I read about in books.

I didn't like it being used on bounties rewarding 1000 caps for my bullet-ridden corpse. "I don't remember crossing anyone named 'B'." I examined the note closely, as if I could discover all the secrets within it by ruining my eyesight.

"Yet you did something stupid enough to warrant hit men." Thanks for the obvious, Charon.

"Oh well. I can't think of doing anything worth my death. Let's just go." I finally input the note into my Pip-Boy to muse on later.

"You can't ignore it, kid." Charon muttered but didn't argue. He began rummaging the bodies, examining their guns and searching for ammo, which is when I became decidedly silent. I knew it was the way of life up here - you took what you could - I did the same (to super mutants, feral ghouls - anything that didn't stare at me with eyes like mine), but I didn't have to like it.

"Hey, could you close their eyes? It's creepy." I mumbled, half embarrassed, half feeling ill at the thought of their dead, accusing stares burning into my skin. Charon said nothing as he complied. "Thanks."

We moved on soon enough, and I was distracted from my nausea as I spotted the enormous black aircraft carrier looming in the distance. It was as if an internal trigger had sprung and woke up the knowledge that I was so close to finding him.

I began running.

Dad, are you here?

"Where's Jefferson Memorial?"

Dr. Li pursed her lips disapprovingly. I could sense she disliked me - the calculating way she stared at me unnerved me; it was like being judged by the Overseer. But I understood why she disliked me after learning of Project Purity. I was the road bump that sent all her hard work careening down a cliff. When I was born, mom died, dad left the project, and Dr. Li was left behind with the knowledge of their failure.

Charon's steady presence was placating; I focused on the ghoul beside me and breathed deeply, feeling if I lost my anchor I would become unhinged. Dad wasn't here. I had missed him, just like I had missed him in Megaton. Instead I discovered that he had lied to me, I wasn't born in Vault 101, and he left to complete a project he abandoned long ago. I was learning too much about my dad that he never thought to tell me.

"I advise against following James." The scientist shook her head and studied me mercilessly, searchingly. Her gaze softened and grew far-away. I think she found whatever it was she had been looking for and I slumped in relief, as if I'd passed an important test. "Yet I know you're as determined as your father." She agreed to mark Jefferson Memorial on my map and even answered my questions.

She told me about mom – Catherine. How she and dad were in love. An image of my parents together wormed into my head, mom happy and alive and dad without his constantly overworked appearance, sending a pang of longing through my chest. I didn't know what mom looked like but over the years I had shaped a picture in my mind.

She had kind eyes, a gentle smile, and could give one hell of a hug.

"One night, room for two please." I asked Vera Weatherly politely. She was attractive – the kind of attractive that incited jealous eye gouging cat fights.

It made me self-conscious. I glanced involuntarily at my mussy hair sticking out of its braid and the dirt beneath my nails and felt my face heat up. I resisted the urge to smell myself because I knew the odor must be horrifying.

"Sure, honey." She smiled amiably, unaware of the insecurity she had provoked. I caught her bemused expression directed at Charon; I kept forgetting people were unused to ghouls and paid her hurriedly, all the while wishing my fingers were as long and slender as hers.

I collapsed on my cot with a groan of exhaustion, haphazardly tossing my gun and supplies on the ground. The day's journey had left me aching all over, while Dr. Li's information left a aching in my chest. As Charon cleaned his gun, I labored to undo my braid. I had slept with my hair done up for days and my head was itching something fierce (I shuddered at the thought of what was in my hair). It was times like these that made having long hair troublesome – one way or another my hair and Pip-Boy got tangled up into an unmanageable mess. I froze for a few seconds and dreaded what came next.

"Uh, Charon, could you help?" I coughed to catch his attention. The ghoul rolled his eyes, placed his shotgun gently down, and pulled up a chair beside my cot. I flushed again and hoped the accumulated dirt on my face would cover it.

His hands were warmer than expected. They felt uneven with decay and sent a shiver down my spine. I held my breath as his fingers ran through my hair, unknotting it skillfully. Soon I was struggling to keep my eyes open because god it felt nice. I couldn't even talk because I was afraid of saying something stupid in my relaxed and drowsy state. My arm fell to my side. Charon returned to his cot and left me feeling strangely empty.

"Thank you." I murmured awkwardly. The room filled with the sound slow breathing. "Charon?" The ghoul paused in the middle of taking apart his gun. "It wasn't your fault, what happened to that girl. You couldn't help it."

"…Thanks kid." I curled up against the wall and started to drift off. He must have assumed I was asleep, because he added softly, "if only it were true."

A/N: A brief justification on my LW's characterization. Although she was not born in Vault 101, she grew up in it, and is quite naïve to world outside. I once found a list of the jumbled up dialogue that plays through the age progression of the LW in the beginning of the game, and it surprised me. It seems like Vault 101 life was similar to our own… except the LW lived underground and in the post-apocalypse. But Vault 101 had music, underage drinking, and even prom. So I'm basing the LW as an average young woman. Hope she comes off as one!

P.S. – Catherine is old and black. All your previous conceptions are wrong. Go check the Fallout Wikia. Haha. :)