Hey guys. I I've really got some of the old writing spirit back. It's great.

O

I paced rapidly, my hand running rampant through my hair. I was muttering to myself. I didn't care what. All I knew was A: I don't have my hat. B: I don't have my .44, or any of my other gear for that matter. And C: Amata is outside of the Vault, and Hollow and she are now buddies. Oh, and one more minor fucking detail.

I cannot recall the last seven months of my life.

When I figured that one out, I began to panic. See, the last day I remember was 7/27/79. My Pip-Boy reads 3/14/80. I really don't panic too often. I can maintain an air of professionalism, rationality, and confidence in situations including but not limited to a Raider ambush or stumbling into a clusterfucking Deathclaw nest. So, my head in generally level. And when I do panic, and I really don't do that very often, I either freak out or shut down and try to figure out how this happened.

See, I'm the kind of guy you want at your side when it all hits the fan. If you're my friend, then I'll put you well before me. If I took nightwatch the previous night, and you seem tired, I'll take it. Most of the time, I'll stay up the whole night, let you get your sleep. I'll cut my own rations to keep some for you. I'll resist drinking water in case you need it.

See, I hate, and I mean really, really hate seeing allies die when I'm their partner. It's why I travel alone most of the time. I know every limit of my own body, my mind, and my emotions. I know what I can handle, whether strain or bullets. I don't like people worrying about of me either.

My mind raced. Thoughts jumbled, mixed, resonated, or were blotted out. I missed so much. Not only dangers to the Wasteland, but holidays. I remember my first Christmas in the Wastes. It was in Megaton, and Gob and I had planned to give gifts to a few good people.

To Nova, we gave her a gun to deal with a little-too-rough clients, and I gave her a medical screening. Somehow, some fucking way, she was clean. Suprised my ass. Figured after a few years of prostitution, she'd have at least three STDs. But nope, nothing. To Jericho, I figured a few cartons of smokes would do nicely. And I found a very nice lighter for him, so he wouldn't need to find matches as often. Gob cleared his bar tab. I could've sworn I saw the old bastard shed a tear. I couldn't figure out what to give Gob though. He just told me that offing Moriarty was good enough.

But I'd also missed Valentine's day. Not too important where your husband may get killed the next day, but it was nice to try and do something. I had planned to give Sarah-

My heart skipped a beat at my first thought of her. I felt it stop. I heard it stop. It was like total shellshock. All I could hear was muffled, and an undescriable noise filled my ears. My body went numb. My eyes widened. My mouth dropped.

Sarah...oh no. Oh no, no, no! She must be so worried! No. She's not worried. And no, she's also not counting on me rushing in and sweeping her of her feet. She's a realist. Like me. After seven months, either in mourning, anticipation for my return, or...

My love thinks I'm dead, and has moved on.

You'd think that'd send me spiraling into a depression, but it didn't. I felt...nothing. I wanted to feel something. Mabye angry at her lack of commitment toward me, or sad over being gone so long, for making her go through mourning. Or even happy if she still had hope, just maybe. But I felt numb. Empty. Hollow.

And that...that is the worst feeling of all.

Amata snapped me out of my train of thoughts. "Al, please calm down!" Her hands her held together, begging me. Hollow was reaching out to me.

"Amata, you don't understand, I need that hat!" I yelled at her. "It's...it's...I can't even begin to describe how important that thing is!"

"You can find another!" She pleaded.

"An-...another?" I paused. I collapsed, sitting on the floor. That hat was...it reminded me of my penance. "Amata...Lucas Simms owned that hat originally. After he got killed, his son asked me if I was gonna be like his dad. I promised him I'd make the Wasteland a better place. It's hard. I can't tell you how many times I've thought about just...giving up. Just trying to survive. Look out for me. But then, either that hat blocks the sun, or I touch it, and I remember my promise. Not just to him, but to everyone. That hat...it's not just for shade..."

Amata looked touched. And...melancholy. And proud. It was confusing. "I...I understand, Al." She finally said.

I smiled. I couldn't find words. She was finally beginning to understand how I'd changed. I nodded like a dope. I looked at Hollow. He was rummaging through a footlocker. He apparently found what he wanted. He tossed a light blue rag towards me. I wasn't prepared, and it landed dead center on my face. I shook it off, then examined it.

It was a head wrap. I thanked Hollow, and slipped it on. I confided in him once that I hated my hair, never finding a perfect style. I found one good one since then though. It was quite like Butch's haircut, the whole Elvis look, but minus the tuft of hair haning over the forehead. I figured it worked well enough, so I've stuck with it. But I did feel better with the head wrap.

"Okay. Okay!" I patted my legs a few times, standing up. "Just...give me a minute..."

"No problem." Amata said curtly, but politely. She may not be able to understand how clusterfucked I am right now, but she was always able to know when to back off and let me think.

"Alright..." I paced back and forth. "First thing's first." Ideas raced through my mind. They were subsequently organized, filtered, and put into a logical pattern. Of course, I understood it all, but if I simply let my mind run wild, it's make Hollow's head explode.

"We need info. What they're planning, who's their commander, everything that could possibly give us an advantage. Anyone know where they live?" I asked, half jokingly. Amata piped up first. Unfortunately.

"They're in Vault 101." She answered me. I had to stop for a second. That was my home once. I could walk those halls blindfolded, and still be confident in each step. I grew up there. It's some of my best years, and my worst moments. So, if they made it into there, then either they planned for something like this, or this guy has a personal vendetta against your trulty.

"Ok." I then realized no one had bothered to mention just who was in the Vault. I had a feeling in my gut about the Enclave though. Last thing I remember is a firefight with the paramilitary fanatics. Then the Box. My brainwashed state. And now this. "Who the hell did all this anyway?"

Amata scowled, eyebrows furrowed. "The Enclave." She spat. "Bastards." Well, this is just great. Enclave's in the Vault, I have nothing, and this guy has everything.

Now, I don't remember much from captivity. But I remember one thing. A face. Like mine, but...spitfeful. Devoid of compassion, of love...of benevolence. His face is what pulled me through until I broke. After love failed my mind, hate drove it on. But his face, I made sure to record it.

"How'd they get in?" I had no clue of the answer was. And, in all honesty...I wish Amata lied to me.

"I...after...after our fight, remember?" What...fuck. I do remember. I told her that I wouldn't care if she were dead or alive. I felt my heart hit my feet just then. "There was this guy...he looked like you, Al, an-"

"Wait, what?" I shouted at her, shocked. "The man? Looks like me, no goatee?" I ask. My mind is like a knife. It can get to the most logical conclusion instantly. The most likely thing, or even some random events. Makes horror movies completely boring though. I can always tell what the twist is gonna be.

"Yeah. His name's Harkin." I repeated his name. Now I had a face, a name, and a place. I thought about what would happen if I simply walked in, gunned my way through, and put a bullet in his head. I know I could. But then I remembered the Vault Dwellers. They'd be traumatized. They can barely fight radroaches, if they had to witness the slaughter of doezens of men at the hands of their former resident, it'd scar them.

So we had to do this the smart way. My way.

But back to Amata. "You just...let him waltz in? I mean...fuck! After everything I'd ever said about the Enclave? After all they've done?"

"I..." She began, but failed to express her awed epiphany at how badly she'd just fucked up.

"No, don't even! Even a Vaultie can't be that blind! Did you ever get the feeling that maybe, I dunno, he was planning so much more? Why he did some things? Did it never occur to you that a paramilitary organization that claims to save the Wasteland, rebuild America, would ever be shunned out there? Why would they need to hide? Wouldn't they be heroes? And why would I have fought them? If anything, I should be a part of them! Did all of that simply..." I imitated the wind and passed my hand over my head.

"I...no. It didn't. I was just happy to have someone from outside the Vault..." She sat down, shamed, and her chest shuddered in sadness. I felt my pulse die down from the anger and nervousness and disbelief, down into my own shame. I just made my childhood friend feel like an idiotic, trusting, naive fool. I lowered myself down. I put a gentle had under her chin, my index finger lifting her.

"I...I'm sorry. It's a lot to take in." I said solemnly. She nodded, sniffling. I patted her shoulder, and turned to Hollow.

What do we do first? He had written.

I sighed. "First...first we..." I had barely any clue. But I was right before. We needed info, and lots of it. I turned, and rummaged through a box of hardware. Then I plucked out a large hardrive that still functioned. "Take this. Sneak in to the Vault, get to the office. Chances are, Harkin will use the Overseer's office as his own. So just get in there, plug it in, and copy everything on that computer. This will hold it all."

Hollow nodded. He cocked his head, asking if I had anything else I wanted.

"Anything else? Well, if you could pick up some milk from the grocery store while you're out..." I held a straight face for a moment, then let a smile crack. Hollow's head bobbed as he chuckled.

"Actually...try and find my hat. And everything else."

Hollow nodded, then began to scribble. They don't have that.

"They don't?" I was sure Harkin would keep a trophy...

They gave it up, and it made it's way to Three Dog.

"Oh. Huh. Well, I guess I'll be heading to D.C. then." I cursed in my head. That'll make having the Enclave think I'm still nuetralized a whole lot harder if Three Dog blares I'm back from the grave, the Reaper not strong enough to hold the Lone Wanderer down! I'm sure that's how he'd say it.

Hollow held a finger up, and scribbled again. If you don't mind, I'd really like one of those flavored Mentats, so if you could grab some...

I looked at him confused. Then I realized he was pulling the same joke on me. I laughed out, and patted his shoulder firmly. He ripped off the paper, threw it away, crumbled.

After I was done with my fit, I held out my hand. "Thanks. For saving me. For dragging my big ass here. For taking care of Amata. And everything else while I was gone."

He took it. Pulled me close. I heard him whisper. "You'd do the same for me." We were brothers. We'd fought together, lived together, laughed together, suffered together. We'd won battles, lost friends, and made new ones together. We'd become as close as either of us would let the other. We always worry about our friends. If they're alright, in danger, whatever. We didn't need that with each other.

We are the deadliest men in the Capitol Wasteland. And we'd kill or die for each other.

Felt like eternity. But we finally parted. He nodded one last time over his shoulder, then climbed through the sewer grate. I smiled. I knew that he'd pull this off perfectly. The resistance begins today.

Amata had calmed down.

"Guess what?" I said to her playfully. She looked curious.

"What?"

"We're going on a field trip."