"How about you let your ghoul friend go down to the mess and find some food?" Glade asked her, jerking a thumb back at Charon. They were standing in the lab area, still. Clara had wrapped up the business with Rothschild and knew where she needed to go, but it was so far away... She was nervous about heading out to that end of the wasteland, again. Hadn't been there since well before her dad died.

She looked back at Charon, standing silently behind her in the gloomy lab, and bit her lip, debating on what to do. A bodyguard couldn't be a bodyguard if he wasn't around her, all the time―but then, she hadn't seen Charon get any food or sleep since she woke up on top of the Washington Monument, and he had to be getting tired and hungry.

Not that he'd shown it. The trip up the shore toward the Citadel had been eventful and he still kept up with her without showing any signs of stopping. "Yeah, okay," she agreed, and turned to Charon. "Do you want to go eat?" she asked, looking up at him.

Charon turned his eyes onto hers, without any expression. They almost glowed in the darkness, and it made her nervous. "Do you wish me to acquire food?" he asked, pointedly.

"I guess, yeah," she said, flushing. Still wasn't used to giving orders to him. Didn't feel right to make him do things like that. It wasn't really in her nature, to be bossy. Maybe that's why I didn't do so good with Butch around, she thought, and bit her lip again.

"Then I will acquire food," he said, still staring at her. "When you require me again, I will be in the mess hall."

"Thank you," Clara said, and waited for him to walk away before turning back to Glade. "Um."

"He's a weird one," Glade said, scratching at his neck. Clara's gaze was drawn to the movement, then flicked back onto his bright blue eyes. "Not that I've seen too many ghouls willing to follow a human around. Usually stick to their own kind."

Clara frowned. "They're human beings, too," she said, defensively.

Glade blinked and smiled with one half of his mouth. "Yeah, you're right, sorry. We don't see them a lot, unless they're taking potshots at the Super Mutants down in the Mall."

"Charon is very good with his shotgun," she said, for lack of something better.

"I'll bet," Glade replied, dryly. "Alright, so, where do you want to go first? There's the bailey out there, you didn't get much of a look at that."

Clara smiled, hesitantly. "Okay," she said. "Let's go there."

Glade showed her up to the bailey, explaining the training stations to her. She watched Paladin Gunny yelling at the recruits, wincing at how tough he was. Glade explained that he had to be tough with them.

"Most of the recruits are locals who want the safety that the Brotherhood offers," he said, crossing his arms over his chest. "Not a lick of combat readiness in the lot."

"Mm-hmm," she said, trying not to agree or disagree. She didn't really know―when she had come out of the Vault, she hadn't known anything about fighting besides her fistfights with the Tunnel Snakes. She'd never been trained by a proper teacher, like Gunny.

"Anyway, we take 'em in and make them into soldiers. If they're lucky, they don't die the first two weeks out," he added darkly, staring over her head at the target practice going on. "I heard Reddin died out there, fighting that big Ugly at Galaxy News Radio. She was a promising recruit. It's a damn shame."

Clara remembered what had happened as she came to the radio station, and looked down. When the behemoth burst onto the court, she'd screamed at the top of her lungs and flew into cover, and Reddin―who she'd heard arguing with the other soldiers, and saw run out into the fray―had been crushed. Clara felt guilty for that―maybe she could have helped her, or stopped the big mutant from killing her―

She sniffled and wiped tears from her face. Glade looked over at her and made a "tut" noise. "Don't be sad, now. Reddin will go down in the scrolls as a Paladin. That's a great honor."

Clara sighed and sucked snot up into her head, trying to keep the emotion out of her voice. "She's still dead, though," she whispered. "I could have helped her."

"You can't help everyone, Clara," Glade said, patting her on the shoulder. "Reddin was always a little too gung-ho. She was bound to get herself hurt. Vargas is probably beating himself up for her dying, and he should be. Not you. You're a local, and it's not your job to keep us alive." He bent his head down to try to catch her eyes. "Vargas should have done better."

"Doesn't matter, though," Clara said, wiping her nose. "She still died, and I still could have done something."

"Them big-ass Uglies, hell..." Glade let her shoulder go and ran a hand over his chin. "Glad we don't see all that many of em. They're tough to take down."

"What makes it happen?" Clara asked. "I mean... why do they get so big?"

Glade shrugged. "Hell if I know. I'm a Paladin. Ask a Scribe." He sounded a little annoyed.

"Maybe I will," she replied, and looked back at Gunny and his recruits. She sighed, sadly.

"Well, this is not at all the fun tour I was hoping to give," Glade said, putting an arm around her shoulder and pulling her away from the range. "Already got you crying, and all."

"I'm sorry," she mumbled. "Everything's just so sad."

Glade smiled down at her. "Think you need to relax, huh?"

"Hard to," she said, swallowing a dry lump in her throat.

"Ah, no, you just ain't met the right person to relax with," Glade said, smiling wider. "C'mon, I'll show you something really neat."

Clara stumbled alongside the soldier, moving back into the Citadel. There wasn't much she could do right now to make herself feel better, about her dad's work and the upcoming journey across the wastes... and her sadness just kept getting worse as time went on.

She wished she could be strong, like Sarah Lyons. Sarah was tough and strong and she knew what to say, and how to say it, and she didn't have to think hard to know what she was doing. Clara wanted Sarah to like her, and she seemed like she did, but she was also treating Clara like her dad used to treat her when he wanted her to do as he said and not argue with him. Like a child.

She wouldn't ever be as smart as Sarah. And she wasn't feeling all the great about being treated like she was dumb, even if she was. Glade wasn't treating her like that. He was being nice and helpful, even if she knew what he was after. Clara glanced up at him and flushed when she caught him staring at her. She knew what that look meant, all too well.

Didn't know if she wanted... that... again. Mister Burke―she fought a shiver. But Butch wasn't like him, and she'd enjoyed having fun with him. Glade seemed okay, if a little mean about people.

Clara wiped her nose again and entered the Citadel with Glade, trying not to think about it. Didn't want him to think she was thinking about it, either.


The "something neat" Glade wanted to show her turned out to be the Lyon's Den. Where the members of the Pride hung out when they needed sleep or food or just wanted to relax. Clara walked into the little eating area and was embarrassed by her stomach growling at the smell of food.

Glade laughed and served her up something that she couldn't figure out, but it tasted good and she didn't care. With so few caps, she wasn't going to turn down a free meal. He spun a fork in the air and jabbed at his food, playing with it like a little kid. Clara gave him a small smile, at him being silly.

"What was it like, living down in that Vault?" he asked, talking with his mouth full.

"It was..." Clara sighed. "It was home." She missed it, terribly. Missed Amata and not having to worry about being attacked by anything other than radroaches, she even missed the Overseer and how mean he'd been to her. Her face fell.

Glade swallowed and put down his fork, leaning over and putting a hand on hers. "I understand," he said, seriously. "...Man, I'm not doing so good, keep making you sad. I'm a bad tour guide."

"It's not your fault," Clara said, poking at her food. She suddenly didn't feel like eating, anymore. Her stomach flopped a little, anxiously reminding her she really should eat. Hadn't had anything in a long while.

"I guess I better not quit my day job," he teased, smiling. Clara looked up at him, confused. Glade chuckled a little, looking up and away in exasperation. "I mean being a Paladin," he said.

"Oh," she said, turning back to her food. "Guess not."

"Don't like seeing you all down like this," he said, moving his chair so he was closer. "What's the matter, babe?"

Clara looked up again and sighed. "I―" she fought emotion again. "I don't know," she said, bursting into tears. She covered her face and leaned forward, feeling ashamed.

Glade made a funny noise, then moved her chair toward him by picking it up and turning it. "Listen, Clara," he said, gently. "Everyone has bad days, and some of us have bad lives. Yours is barely beginning, here. No need to be so upset about a couple bad things, if you can still turn them around."

She cried a little more, then lowered her hands and looked up at him through wet eyelashes, feeling even more embarrassed. Glade smiled, breathed out a small laugh, and put a hand under her chin, pulling her face up. He moved in, getting close to her face. "You have a lot to look forward to," he murmured, staring down at her.

"I guess," she muttered. "Doesn't feel like I'm ever gonna get anything right."

"You will," he said, and moved his mouth onto hers, kissing her.

Clara's hands moved up to his cheeks, kissing him back. It felt good. She let him kiss her for as long as he wanted to, but stopped him when a thickly gloved hand started traveling down her shoulder and onto her side. She pushed him back and kept her hands on his shoulders, holding him away.

"Um," she said, her face on fire. "I don't―"

"Can't tell me never been kissed, before," Glade said, teasingly.

Clara's face burned. "I have," she stammered. "But... I-I don't know if I should."

"What, you got a boyfriend, or something?" he asked, moving his hands to her sides, gripping her through the cloth. Clara suppressed a moan at the firmness of his hands, fingers digging into her just enough to be painful. It was too much like―him―she felt the spike of dread flooding through her, alongside the want.

"N-no," she said, closing her eyes and pressing her lips together. Why did she have to be like this? Every time she had the chance―her body always made it obvious that she wanted it.

"Then what's the hold-up?" he asked, rubbing her side with his thumb.

"I―" Clara whimpered. "I had a bad time, before," she whispered.

Glade moved back in, pulling her closer at the same time. "We'll have to change that, too," he said. "Along with your bad rep."

"Bu―" she began, but he caught her up in another kiss. And she didn't know what to say, anyway. Glade's hand moved up over her shirt and manipulated her breast, rubbing in a circle, running over her erect nipples. She moaned into his mouth, and pressed herself against him.

Glade chuckled, and doubled his efforts, pulling her onto his legs and holding her on his lap, wrapping both hands around her head and kissing her passionately. Clara couldn't tell what was going on, at first, her stomach and legs burning up and feeling the warmth flooding up her spine.

Then the door opened, and Glade broke off the kiss, lowering his hands and looking to see who had come in. "Thanks a lot, Gallows," he muttered, sounding disappointed.

Clara removed herself from his lap and stammered out an apology, and fled. Her face was red as she ducked through the halls, breathing hard.

Why can't I ever just have a normal day? she thought, rubbing her red eyes and fighting the urge to cry again.