Quinn sat at a large table hunched over a pile of electronic components. She adjusted her glasses and stuck her tongue out as she unscrewed a bolt on the camera. Her fingers –wrapped in gauze – were sticky with blood and made dislodging the difficult nut impossible. She growled in frustration and tossed the piece of scrap on to the table in a huff. Her mind raced with thoughts; the small distraction of rebuilding something would have helped distract her from the wandering ideas that lingered in her head after she had left the GNR building.

She ran her fingers through her hair, snagging a lone piece of hair in a sliver on her knuckle. She sucked in air and placed her finger in her mouth. Her father had always warned her against doing those kinds of things, but it was a habit she couldn't seem to break. She would have welcomed the scolding at that point that the sheer idea of it made her smile.

An old woman approached her setting a small plate of vittles in front of her and sighed. She shook her head and sat across the table from her. Her tired eyes watched Quinn as she looked between the camera parts strewn about and the sustenance that urged her to eat. She brought her hands to her face and let out a small chuckle.

"You remind me of my boys: always distracted by anything they could get their hands on, but not giving themselves the time to take care of themselves," she remarked with a small smile.

Quinn looked up at her, in a daze of thoughts and memories, and smirked. She had always been that way. Her dad was the same: easily distracted by the next task, never willing to just sit and take things slow. Her smile faded as she thought about her father; the late nights he'd stay awake working on God knows what, putting distance between them. In hindsight, she realized that he was weaning her off of his presence, in preparation for what he was about to do. Or maybe it wasn't just about her, but him as well. They only had each other and even from the message he'd left for her, she could sense the hesitation in his voice.

"Maybe it's genetic," Quinn replied, trying to hide the tumultuous emotions brewing.

She picked up the meat and placed it in her mouth. She cringed as the gush of gamey juices flooded her taste buds. She chewed several times and swallowed down the gob of gristle and meat. It tore her throat and hit her stomach like a rock. She saw the old woman staring at her with a contented sparkle in her eye. She patted back the bun in her hair. They both sat silently as Quinn worked around the tough pieces of food and thought about how she was going to finish her work before retiring for the night.

Picking up the camera and looking into the hollow space where its guts once were, she stuck her finger where the shutter once was and brushed away the dust that rested in it. Small crumbs of debris fell on to the table in front of her and when she was satisfied she placed the main mechanism back in to it. She flashed a smile at the elderly woman and closed it back up with a look of satisfaction.

"It seems you've solved your problem, then, hon," she said with a small wink.

Quinn shook her head and stated, "Just one of many."

Grandma Sparkle let out a hearty laugh and wiped a tear from her eye.

"Ain't that always the way?" she asked warmly. She stood from her chair and stretched. "Well, you best be heading…" She stopped and stared into the distance. Quinn turned in the direction she was looking and saw a small band of people donned in power armor walking towards her. "My word."

Quinn stood up and leaned against the table, her arms folded in front of her casually. The three knights drew closer with their weapons drawn. The one in front lifted a fist to stop them and then approached Quinn as if this was an ordinary event for them.

"I didn't think we'd find you out here already," Colvin stated with a calm tone.

"What are you doing out here?" Quinn questioned, her arms falling to her side.

"We have to go back to the Citadel for some items. Things are slim pickings right now," he answered. He pulled his helmet off and tucked it under his arm. He looked down at the camera on the table and back at her in confusion. "Latest project?"

"Something like that," she replied with a shrug. The two of them leaned over it and examined the black box. "I've got it to move, changed the battery and all that, it's missing a flashbulb, but other than that, yeah, it's a work in progress."

"Film?" Colvin queried giving her a quick once over.

Quinn hesitated, her mouth pursing at the one thing critical to it that she had forgotten.

"Shit," she grumbled. "No, I don't have that."

Grandma Sparkle cleared her throat and drew the pair's attention to her. Quinn's shoulders slumped slightly as the old woman left them and entered her home. Colvin spoke with his squad and Quinn just stared blankly at the device in front of her.

Fuck it.

"You want to come with us?" Colvin asked her.

"We're going in different directions," Quinn answered without looking at him.

"You can tag along with us till we get there then," he stated, putting his helmet on and nodded for them to continue.

Quinn picked up the camera with a sigh and slid it into her pack. She thought it had been a good idea, but alas, it hadn't worked out. Like so many other things. She lit a cigarette and began trudging up the hill towards the knights. Her rifle swayed against her back, her hair flitted in the breeze and everything seemed to drag until they were near Grandma Sparkle's shack. She heard the door slam shut and the old woman came running up to her.

"Take it," she ordered as she thrust a roll of film and flashbulb into her hand. "Do something wonderful with it."

Quinn smiled and thanked her before setting the objects into her pack. She gave the old woman a hug and dug her hand into her pocket. She took out several bottle caps and handed them to her. Sparkle pinched Quinn's cheek and told her to come back.

"I will," Quinn said thoughtfully. "Take care of yourself."

"You too, darling," Grandma Sparkle replied. "Good luck looking for your father."

Quinn looked at Colvin and the four of them continued on the path, past the broken towers and subway system entrances. Music spilled from her Pip-Boy as they walked. The two soldiers behind her spoke in hushed whispers about her. The amount of venom they spewed was disgusting. "Mutt," "Nobody," Waste of time," seemed to be the common things they called her. Colvin gave her a look and shook his head.

"Don't worry about it," he whispered to her.

She nodded her head and kept walking with him. Her pace nearly doubled his as they came to a large broken bridge. Colvin ordered the group to stop and they hid behind some rubble. He pulled his rifle and peered through the scope. He let out a sigh and handed it to Quinn. She was taken aback by the gesture. She looked at the rifle and then at him curiously.

"What?" she mouthed.

"Take the shot. Consider it your first lesson," he said.

He thrust the gun into her hands and pointed toward the bridge. Quinn looked down the scope and saw movement on a small landing. She gave Colvin a look and he nodded. Her vision centered on the target and she squeezed the trigger. She could only watch as a spray of blood erupted from the person. Her stomach tied in knots and she closed her eyes in horror as to what she had done.

She handed the rifle back, feeling the contents of her stomach heading towards the unavoidable exit. She pressed her hand to her stomach to try to soothe the nausea from succeeding in purging what food she had in there, but it was too much and she lurched forward, her hand pressed into the concrete and vomited violently on to the ground. Through tears and purges she let loose a string of swears that made Colvin look at her with concern.

Gun fire scattered across the night sky towards them. Bullets ricocheted off the steel rebar overhead and the knights returned fire. Quinn dried her eyes and wiped the strings of drool from her lips and gave Colvin a look of contempt. She pulled her assault rifle and charged into the fray, with the other soldiers on her heels. As each raider fell, less bullets rained down on them and then Colvin gave them the all clear. The pair charged up the ramp and came across the strewn bodies lying dead in puddles of torn flesh and blood.

She stood there silently, the strap of the rifle on her shoulder and frowned. She saw the person she'd shot, brain matter scattered around them in mounds of gooey meat. Jesus. She knew she'd nailed them, but not there and took small comfort in knowing that their death was instantaneous. Colvin took one look at the body and then at Quinn and scowled. He turned her towards him and placed his hands on her shoulders.

"Don't ever do that," he growled. "You could have gotten yourself killed."

Quinn looked up at him and then at the body between them. She bit her lower lip and nodded acceptingly to his warning. He was right, she shouldn't have rushed the field in the middle of a fire fight, but no one was giving up ground and she had distracted the raiders enough so the others could get off their shots.

"I'm sorry," she murmured.

Colvin let out a sigh and pulled her closer. The cold steel was unforgiving, but the person under it was far more pliable. Much more warm compared to the persona the power armor gave. She listened to the servos working, the automated ticker that made him appear more machine than man, and just under all the metal and electronics the sounds of breathing.

"We're almost there, Knight Captain," one of the soldiers remarked before heading down the ramp.

Colvin looked at the large structure in the distance and then to Quinn. He ordered the others to head out and took her hand in his. They walked down the ramp together and he stopped. Looking in a different direction he pointed for her to go that way and released her from his grasp.

"Be careful," he warned. "There's more muties that way and I hope you send them to meet their maker." Quinn smiled and began to walk toward the bridge. Colvin called to her and she looked over her shoulder at him. "Just…"

"I know," she replied with a smile. "I'll see you around."

She turned back and walked across the bridge; her eyes kept falling to the large structure the Brotherhood had traveled to and frowned. She didn't know if she'd see him again but the thought made strange sensations in her stomach. She tried to write it off as nausea, but it travelled to her heart. The rapid palpitations made her stop and check her Pip-Boy. Everything appeared to be normal, but the feelings lingered and science and medicine weren't going to give her the answer she was looking for.