Nothing New Under the Sun
Lucy hadn't had a frown on her face so deep in years. Not since Arcade left to help the Remnants. Not since Veronica left to find her love. Not since Cass went to California. Her breathing was rhythmic but quaky, each one sharper and more painful in her chest than the last. Her face was wet, tears pouring down her nose and into her mouth. Gross.
She wiped at it. Milo had promised he would help her. Promised he'd stay by her side. She didn't want to leave, she didn't have to, but she felt so betrayed by him. That he would so quickly and willingly give up his mission for another shot at glory.
She was happy that the darkness cloaked her appearance.
Or at least that was what she thought he was doing. The more she rolled their arguments over in her head the more she was beginning to think that he wasn't trying to ditch her. Not intentionally.
But she banished those thoughts and focused on her walking.
Left.
Right.
Left.
Right.
She wiped at her tear-streaked face yet again, jarring her mouth open in the process and letting out an audible sob.
"Hey," she heard a baritone voice behind her. "Are you alright?" It wasn't Milo. She wiped at her face one last time, steadied her breathing, and turned to face the unknown. It was a man, with shaggy hair, not much taller than herself.
Michael could hear the girl crying even thirty paces behind her.
She was wandering all around the road, meandering as if she was drunk. When he called out to her, she stopped, wiped her face, and did an about-face on one heel. And stared at Michael for several seconds, face straight and unmoving. Michael stopped, wary of approaching too closely.
"Yes," she said, with just a tinge of unease in her voice.
"I'm Mike," Michael said. He approached and held out a hand. It was then, as he got close, that he noticed her hand on the pistol at her side. He showed her his hands, empty, before trying again. She stuck out her own hand and took his. Her grip was stiff, and very powerful. Her small stature and slight frame was certainly deceiving. "It's nice to meet you," he said, and shot her a smile.
"Lucy," she said.
"So where are you headed, this late at night?" He asked.
"The Pentagon," she said.
"The Citadel?" Michael asked. He tilted his head and grinned. "That's the Brotherhood of Steel headquarters in these parts," he said. "You must not be from around here, if you didn't know that." The words came out sounding more predatory than he had intended.
"I am not," she said, "but I know the Brotherhood of Steel. I'm a Paladin, actually." Michael raised an eyebrow at this assertion. He'd never seen her before.
"Well I'm actually headed there, myself," Mike said. "We can walk together."
Lucy stared him directly in the eye. If she was trying to intimidate Michael, it was working. And then she stepped aside and gestured down the road.
"You lead the way," she said in a pitch much higher than the one she'd greeted him with. Playing safe. Smart. He tightened his grip on his newly-acquired plasma rifle and took the lead between the two.
Hours passed. They chatted now and again. He was astonished and in complete disbelief of half the stuff that she told him. A prewar military facility with prototypes beyond the wasteland's wildest imagination? Subterranean mutants menacing civilization? A horde lead by an ideologue, with a Roman aesthetic, going to war with the NCR? It was too much. Far too much. And then she mentioned that she was looking for the Enclave.
Her ramblings convinced Michael that the woman was insane. And in spite of his survival instinct, he felt escorting her to the Citadel was appropriate and the only morally just thing to do.
On the other hand he was quite wary of telling her too much. He told her that he was a Knight of the Brotherhood of Steel, but neglected to tell her his role. When the two got hungry, he shared his rations with her. He entertained her rambling, but was tight-lipped about his own story.
The wastes have eyes and ears all over.
"What kind of rifle is that?" She asked amidst all of her other ramblings. "I've never seen anything like it."
"Ah, it's a custom laser rifle," Michael said, without hesitating. "And no, you can't hold it."
Dawn was breaking by the time they'd reached the Citadel gates – probably five in the morning. He gave his challenge code and holotags to the gate guard, vouched for Lucy as his friend, and then bade the girl farewell. If she could get all the way from California to the Columbia Commonwealth on her own, she could certainly find her way around the Citadel.
The Citadel armory – where weapons were maintained and manufactured – was his first stop before he started the long trek back to the Washington Monument. He spoke a word of greeting to the armorer scribes before he handed off the rifle and its documentation, and then set off after being given extra ammunition for his laser pistol.
He gave Lucy, who'd started chatting up one of the senior Paladins, a smile and a wave before he headed out of the complex.
"I'm telling you," Lucy snarled, feeling indignation from the Star Paladin she was addressing. "Just contact Elder McNamara, he will vouch for me."
"And I'm telling you," he said, taking his helmet off. "We don't have ready contact with the West Coast elders. Hey – who even let you in?"
"Knight…" it occurred to her then that the Knight in question hadn't given her his surname. Typical. "Look a Knight vouched for me and that's how I got in." The man laughed at her struggling.
"That places you barely above the raiders we kill on a daily basis," he said.
"You know what? I already got the run-around from McNamara. How about Elder Elijah, does his name ring a bell?"
"No."
She huffed and snarled and cussed as she struggled to find the words to respond to that: teeth gritted, fists clenched, and stomping the ground with her feet. It only made the Paladin laugh at her.
"I am a Paladin of the Brotherhood of Steel, Mojave Chapter, and I demand you let me speak to your elder!" She shouted. Her face was flushed red with anger. By this point, the initiates training in the courtyard of the Citadel had started staring at her.
"What's going on out here?" A young man, younger than Lucy herself, had come out of the Pentagon and addressed the Star Paladin. The Paladin stood at attention and gave the man a salute.
"Elder Maxson, apologies sir!" The Star Paladin snapped.
"At ease, soldier," Maxson said. He looked at Lucy. "Who are you, ma'am?" He asked.
"Elder?" She didn't think Elders could be so young.
"Yes, I am Elder Arthur Maxson of the Columbia Commonwealth Chapter of the Brotherhood of Steel," he said. He gave a shallow bow, "And who might you be?" She wasn't sure how to act, so she snapped a short salute.
"Paladin Lucy," she said, and then remembered that she didn't even know her own surname. So she took Milo's, just as she had when she first introduced herself to Elder McNamara. "ah, Jackson, of the Mojave Chapter of the Brotherhood of Steel."
"Mojave Chapter, huh?" he said. "At ease. I've heard of you, Paladin Jackson. You helped to save the besieged Mojave Chapter, and aided in the reconciliation of the Brotherhood of Steel at large with the New California Republic." He bowed yet again. "We owe you a debt of gratitude. But tell me, ma'am, what brings you so far east?"
"Ah," she said. Lucy was fully aware of the past enmity between the Brotherhood of Steel and the Enclave. Arcade had even told her about it at one point or another, although she preferred to put those details on the backburner. "Well, sir, I came here looking for the, well, Enclave."
Maxson tilted his head.
"That's… a strange quest, soldier," he said. "To what end, exactly?"
Lucy swallowed hard, and hesitated for a moment before coming clean.
"I have amnesia, sir," she said, "but of the few fragmented memories I do have, some of them involve being in the Enclave." She paused. She was trying to word her explanation as cautiously as possible, but it evidently wasn't working considering the glare the Star Paladin was giving her. "That's really all it is. Sir. Fragments of my childhood living in a bunker."
Maxson nodded, face expressionless.
"I am afraid," he said after some time, "that your sojourn has been for naught. Seven years ago, the Enclave arrived in the Columbia Commonwealth in force, with the intent of seizing the Jefferson Memorial Purifier and using it to leverage control over the Capitol Wasteland. The ensuing war left few, if any, members of the Enclave alive." Lucy grimaced. "I hesitate to offer condolences considering the many trespasses the Enclave committed both here, and on the West Coast," he said, and rubbed his chin. "However, I do apologize that we cannot help you further. You're welcome to visit the Raven Rock and Adam's Air Force Base ruins, if it would help you. Otherwise, Paladin, you are free to stay here with us and assist with our operations, if that is what you desire. We always have a need for talented individuals such as yourself. In fact, I have a position for you in mind already. If you're interested come find me in my office."
He wheeled about and began to walk back toward the Pentagon's offices.
"Oh," he said, pausing. "Check in with the scribes underground. They can get you some holotags so you don't have to deal with the gate guards."
Lucy stared at the man's back as he disappeared into the building. Her regret for leaving Milo in Megaton was coming back, now, in force. He'd been right the entire time, and now her guilt felt like it was crushing her chest. She'd dragged Miles all the way across the country, and then abandoned him.
She let out a sigh and started toward the Pentagon. May as well make herself useful. Until she could get back to Milo.
A stranger rolls into town. Nihil novi sub sole for the Fallout cast.
