After putting a few miles between us and Raven Rock, we finally get a break and I sag against a boulder, gasping for breath. Fawkes isn't in as bad of shape as I am and watches the area for danger, hands on his Gatling laser.

"You got a new toy," I observe when I've caught my breath.

Fawkes nods, handling the gun proudly. "The technology in the world is amazing!" He admires his weapon for a few moments before scanning our surroundings for danger.

The adrenalin in my system finally wears off and an excruciating burning begins to pulse in my eyes. It burns so badly that I nearly gag on the spot. I choke a little on the waves of pain, sliding my bag off my shoulders and blindly pawing around inside it for a stimpak. I'm nearly out, but this is severe enough that I know it's justified until I can find a doctor. The medicine helps a little, but I can't help but cry out; it hurts too much not to.

Even though I'm in crippling pain, we manage to keep up a good pace through the wasteland. Fawkes keeps the enemies at bay, and I guide us around danger spots and toward the Citadel. Over the hours, the severity of the pain eases to a constant ache, which is infuriating and does nothing to lift my spirits.

We move quickly, mostly because we're worried about the Enclave trying to chase us down. I know if they really wanted to, they could catch us with one of their vertibirds, but thinking that we're outrunning them is much easier to deal with and makes it easier to push ourselves.

The Enclave base was farther away than I've ever traveled, and I'm not entirely comfortable relying on my Pipboy's compass. It's all I've got, so it has to do, and I make do with the wavering needle. Eventually, I'm struck by the familiarity of my location, but I can't quite remember where I am.

"Fawkes, wait!" I call out, lifting my wrist and turning the screen of my Pipboy out of the sun. I turn my head a little so I can see the screen through my uninjured eye.

The big green mutant stops and jogs back to my side. "Yes, my friend?"

I'm pleased to find that we've veered off our course just enough that Big Town is a few hundred yards away. It takes me no time at all to decide to stop over and see Red, their doctor, and have her look at my eye. "We gotta make a pit stop."

I change our course slightly, heading for the little settlement. We've just come in view of the entrance when I hear a few panicked cries and remember the ordeal with the Super Mutants.

"Hold on," I tell Fawkes, hurrying toward Big Town. Every step jostles my eye and makes it ache more. I'm nearing swearing with every step by the time I reach the bridge.

Their guard looks worried and fingers his gun nervously as I approach. "Friend or foe?" he cries out, his voice shaking.

"He's with me," I say before he has a chance to react. "He's harmless. Look, I just need to see Red," I plead, gesturing to my obvious wound.

The guard recognizes me when I mention Red and turns an uncomfortable look on my eye. He turns a little green and waves me away. "Okay, geez, go get him. I'll let everyone know." He gets up and walks away, muttering about how "sick" my eye looks.

I flip him off as he leaves and turn to retrieve Fawkes.

A few minutes later, Fawkes is trying to duck in through the door of Red's shack as the doctor greets me, looking more than a little surprised to see me.

"What'd you do?" she asks, rinsing off her hands in some vodka. Her touch is surprisingly gentle as she tilts my head into the light.

"Got shot in the face. What does it look like?" I cringe as she prods around the wound.

Red laughs politely, humming thoughtfully as she examines me. She settles on dribbling some alcohol across my eye to disinfect it, despite my pained hisses.

After she has the wound clean, she tells me to relax and starts doing her thing. I'm given a few Med-x and stimpak injections, plus a shot to block out the addictive qualities of the Med-x for good measure.

She draws the curtains over the windows and darkens the room. I hear her lighting a match beside me and feel her cover up my uninjured eye.

"Can you see this?"

I feel the heat from the flame on my skin, but can't see it burning. My heart drops like a rock. "No." It's no wonder my aim's been off; I'm lucky Fawkes has been here.

Red blows the match out and sighs. "I was afraid'a that." She uncovers my good eye and shrugs at me. "You might be able to see a doctor in Rivet City; they're pretty good, from what I hear."

I nod mutely, straining to see anything in the dim light of the shack. "But I probably won't get it back, right?"

Red shrugs again. "I don't know. It looks like it might've been starting to get infected. Keep it clean and see a doctor somewhere."

She gives me a few stimpaks for the road and I pay her more than she asks for, thanking her for her help. The young woman gets flustered, but thanks me anyway.

"C'mon Fawkes, let's go," I say to my mutant friend, much to his relief.

As we walk out of the town, Fawkes shakes his head. "It's amazing that people trust you enough to not attack me."

I shrug, kicking up dust clouds in the dirt glumly. "I guess."

We take our leave of the town, continuing our grueling pace back to DC.

Fawkes notices I'm quiet and starts reciting old poems he'd memorized during his imprisonment to help pass the time. He gets disgruntled when I don't make much effort to answer, and shoots me a look. "Be grateful you can still see," the mutant tells me, gently counseling me. "Many others were not so lucky that day."

"I know!" I snap, unable to contain myself any longer. I'm immediately sorry for raising my voice. "I know. It just sucks."

Fawkes growls his agreement, perking up and running after a radscorpion a little ways away.

I sigh and stop walking, waiting until he clears the area and returns.

We stop for the night about half an hour later, and I realize we're most of the way to the outskirts of DC. There's probably just a day or so of walking left, but it's too dangerous to keep going when it's so dark.

I find a nicely-sized rock and set an empty Nuka Cola bottle on top, turning and counting off twenty paces. I pull my pistol out of my bag and take aim at the bottle, squeezing off a few shots. Much to my dismay, I miss with every bullet.

I'll be dead if I can't defend myself, and I've never been good at hand-to-hand combat, so I need to relearn this. It takes me a few minutes to come up with a way to counteract my new handicap, but once I realize how to adjust my aim, my shots get closer and closer to their target.

Once the bottle shatters and falls off the rock, I'm satisfied that I'll be able to at least cover myself in a fight. I turn to crash for the night, hoping for a restful sleep. I want to make good time tomorrow, but my brain decides to not comply.

I'm back at the point where I rescued Amata from the Enclave soldiers, gun in hand as I prepare to try and get rid of one of the guards. As I take aim and shoot, my bullets go wide.

The soldiers notice and start yelling and returning fire. I try to defend myself and get to Amata, but none of my shots are hitting.

I'm shooting as fast as I can when Amata screams.

I wheel around and see her sagging to the ground, blood draining out of her into a growing pool in the dirt around her. What's even worse is that her injury wasn't inflicted by a laser weapon; it's a definite gunshot wound.

Amata's ashen and her eyes are wide with surprise. I'm so horrified that I can't breathe and I drop to the ground beside her, trying to stem the bleeding somehow. I can't speak, I can't think, and all I want to do is scream. The barrel of one of the Enclave soldier's rifles digs into my back as Amata goes unnervingly limp, and I jerk awake, gasping for breath and feel nauseous.

Fawkes is snoring beside me, and I crawl away, dry heaving into the dust. I can still see Amata's body in front of me, bleeding out from a wound I'd inflicted. For a few agonizing minutes, all I can think of is how I killed Amata, despite knowing that it's not true.

Every fiber of my being is desperate to make sure she's all right. I know I won't be able to relax until I can see her with my own eyes. The fate on the wasteland rests on my shoulders and I need to see the Brotherhood as soon as possible, but that pales in comparison with this nightmare fresh on my mind.

I can't sleep, not after that dream, so I spend the hours until daylight arrives chasing away terrible images and praying that Amata's okay.