John looked up from his journal, lost in thought. It was their fourth morning on the road. They had spent the night in the remains of Hagerstown, MD. Idly rubbing his knee, he reflected on the new environment he found himself in as his companions began preparing for the day. There had been a noticeable change as they had rolled out of the desolation of the Capital Wasteland and up the old highways, picking up a shortcut that Bonzo knew that saved a considerable amount of time. The further west they moved, the more alive things looked. The land had gone from a uniform shade of brown to a more diverse mix of brown and green. According to Bonzo the Appalachians were more alive still. John looked forward to it, as even the patches of grass along their route were a pleasant change from the normally barren landscape. Realizing it was time to go, John looked down, signing his name to the page he had written on. The journal was a record of what he had been doing, a travelogue that he meant to have delivered to Amata if the opportunity arose. Bonzo, not for the first time, took note of his writing.
"Still writing that saga for your Vault broad?" he asked. The two of them had gotten very well acquainted over the course of the three days they had been traveling. Theirs was the only conversation to be had. John still hadn't heard Smith say a word, and Fawkes knew John well enough that small talk and life stories didn't pass between them anymore. Most of John's most interesting stories involved Fawkes, anyway.
"Yeah. Still writing to Amata," John replied as he strode over to the wagon. Bonzo rolled his eyes as he lit up his first smoke of the day.
"Kid, let me tell you something. You're 23. Don't go tying yourself down. If I've said it to you once, I've said it 100 times by now-your relationship with that girl is all kinds of fucked up. I don't care how good the tail is, there's always something better."
"Better than love?" John asked, going for the sappiest response he could think of. Bonzo's reaction didn't disappoint, a look of borderline disgust crossing his face.
"Fuck me, kid. That was one of the fruitiest things I've ever heard. Trust me, if you stick to this decision you'll regret it when we hit Vegas. Hell, you'll regret it in Coalseam." John let out a short bark of laughter as Bonzo got the cart rolling. More often than not, John rode shotgun. He and Smith rotated, but it had become clear by the end of the first day that John's knee still couldn't take the workload. Even the walking he did do left him aching every morning. He hadn't covered this much ground by foot for years. Luckily Smith didn't seem to mind too much, and Fawkes was essentially inexhaustible.
"I'm not just in it for the sex, Bonzo. Besides, Amata's pretty damn hot," he said in response to the trader's mocking.
"Sure you're not, Johno. How long was it in between you knocking the bottom out of that blonde babe and Amata?" John couldn't help but blush in embarrassment. Bonzo had hit closer to home than he'd like to admit.
"About four days," he mumbled back. That drew a round of laughter from Bonzo. Even Smith's normally inscrutable face showed a hint of amusement at that.
"I'm not judging you, kid. Far from it. More power to you. Shit, if you're not going to take advantage in Coalseam, send them my way. But don't go lying to yourself and this Amata girl about what you are. Only going to make it worse in the long run."
"Thanks, Uncle Bonzo," John replied, chuckling. He supposed he should respect the old trader's experience, but it was hard to get around the cynicism he spoke with. Besides, John thought, Amata's different. We're different. They rolled their way along the road in temporary silence, the rising sun quickly warming the air. The further west they traveled, John noticed, the more the air felt different. Almost…wet. He knew what it was, he had learned about it in school. This was humidity. He had never properly experienced it until now. The novelty was almost enough to make him ignore how uncomfortable it felt. While the temperature was noticeably cooler than the Capital Wasteland, the moisture in the air was making it impossible to feel comfortable. He felt like he was just sitting in his own sweat, the air not dry enough for it to evaporate. Off in the distance, still miles away, the rolling foothills of the Appalachians loomed. They appeared to rise from the ground, gently sloping up and off into the distance. The mountains themselves weren't a particular shock-the seismic force of the bombs had created ranges around D.C.-but the greenness of them was. Even from this distance, the sharp change in color was obvious from the land that led into the mountains.
"You ok, kid?" Bonzo asked, noticing the distant look on John's face.
"Yeah," he replied, snapping back to reality. "Just never seen that much green before." Bonzo snickered at that.
"Wait till we're in them. You'll see all the green you ever wanted," he replied.
"Are we stopping up there tonight?" John asked.
"Yep. Stop by Old Hancock. It's a little trading post along the way. Why, you already tired of traveling?'
"Not at all," he replied. "Just curious. Then what, another six or so to Coalseam?"
"Give or take," Bonzo replied. "Spend a day trading there and then head out towards K.C." John grunted in acknowledgement, thoughts drifting back away as they rolled towards the mountains.
It was shaping up to be another normal day in Megaton. Aside from a water caravan due to make its rounds, everything was quiet. Lucas sat at the Brass Lantern, eating his breakfast quietly, Dogmeat sitting by his side. The dog had taken to making the rounds with Lucas. The sheriff didn't object to the presence of the intimidating looking animal. Any would-be troublemaker would be given pause when confronted with Lucas' size and Dogmeat's fangs. Jenny Stahl stood behind the counter, making idle conversation. Lucas didn't engage in gossip; he felt his position in town should keep him above talking about citizens behind their backs. He'd had to stop Jenny from talking all about how Lucy was doing following John's reconciliation with the Overseer and his departure from town. While he was as concerned about Lucy as anyone, he figured if she wanted to talk, she'd come directly to him. Finishing his food, he bid Jenny farewell and set off toward the gate. The water caravan was due soon; they usually made their rounds early in the day. As he made his way up the hill, Stockholm, the town's lone sentry, called out.
"Hey, Sheriff, you may want to get outside. There caravan is here, but there's a way bigger guard on it." That got Lucas' attention. He immediately began connecting various dots in his head. The answer that immediately came to mind was John's fight in Rivet City. Lucas felt a flash of anger as the thought went through his mind. He had been right, after all. The kid's grudge was bringing trouble down on them all. As he stepped through the gate, he was met by the sight of the water caravan, with six Brotherhood members guarding it. He knew immediately who they were. If their unique sigil on their armor wasn't enough, the blonde woman at the head of the group confirmed it. They're here for the kid. Play it cool.
"Mornin'," Lucas began. "Bit more of y'all than I'm used to seeing. What's your business in Megaton?"
"We're here to take John Thompson into custody for his assault on a Brother of Steel," the woman replied. Sarah, Lucas realized. That's her name. The one Three-Dog talks about.
"And what gives you the authority to come into my town and arrest one of my citizens?" She looked taken aback by that. He assumed that hadn't been expecting resistance.
"We are here under the authority of Elder Owyn Lyons. As long as you receive purified water from us, you will accept his judgment," she replied. The sheer arrogance conveyed by her proclamation angered him.
"Well, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but he left. Six days ago." The surprise was visible on all their faces now.
"Left for where?" she pressed. He shrugged at her.
"Couldn't tell you. West somewhere, he said."
"They you won't mind if we search his house to be sure?" she asked.
"Miss, my word's been good around these parts long before the Brotherhood came to town. Frankly, you can fuck right off if you want to question my honestly like that." Her eyes went wide at his declaration.
"You are making a grievous mistake, Sheriff. The Elder will be very disappointed by your lack of cooperation." Lucas nodded at her.
"Fair enough. How about we get this water delivery done so you can go on your way?" Sarah looked like she could scream. This had obviously not gone at all as she had planned.
"Fine," she huffed, turning and stalking away with her squad in tow to wait for the caravan on the road. Lucas turned to the caravaneer.
"Let's get this done fast," he began. "I don't want that young lady near my town longer than she has to be," he finished as he began helping unload the water.
The Lyons' Pride strode into the Citadel courtyard in the late afternoon, the water caravan successfully protected. Not that it had ever been a concern. Gunny was smoking a class of fresh initiates, noticing Sarah and the Pride as they entered the courtyard. Leaving the recruits with the instruction "keep pushing," he made his way toward Sarah, eagerly trying to spot the Wanderer in chains. Technically, it may supposed to have been a secret, but word had spread quickly around the Citadel that they were out to bring the legend in. He knew the older members all wanted to see him brought in; not just because of his beating of McPherson but because of his general attitude during and immediately after the war. He was surprised to see that it was just the Pride, with no sign of the Wanderer. The angry look on Sarah's face gave away that something had gone wrong. She was still his superior, though, so as he drew near he saluted before relaying the message he had been given.
"Your presence is requested in the Great Hall, Sentinel." She nodded at him.
"Very well," she replied, turning to the members of the Pride she had taken with her. "Pride, you're dismissed. I'll meet you in the Den." She turned and stalked into the Citadel proper, winding her way towards the Great Hall. Anger was still pounding through her. The day had not gone at all as she had expected. It wasn't just the resistance, the borderline insolence, of Megaton's sheriff, the wannabe cowboy. It was what he had said, that John had left nearly a week before. She didn't know what to make of that. The John Thompson she had known would have been too proud to hide behind anyone or anything. At the same time, she obviously hadn't known him as well as she thought. She had actually believed he was committed to the Brotherhood…and her. She quickly forced the thought from her mind as she entered the Great Hall, surprised to see Gallows waiting with her father and Rothchild. They turned to her as she entered.
"You missed him," her father said. It was a statement, not a question. She nodded in confirmation. "Gallows arrived after you left. He saw the Wanderer leaving six days ago, heading north with a long haul caravan. By now he'll be far out of our range."
"If we use a Vertibird we may be able to…"
"To what? Find him? Even if we had the resources, which we don't, we have no idea what route he's traveling."
"Lucas Simms said he was heading west," she replied. Her father's and Rothchild's eyes both widened slightly at that, before turning to face each other.
"West…is he going to the NCR?" the Elder asked.
"Perhaps…but how would he even know of the NCR? We never spoke of it to him," Rothchild replied.
"He was with the mutant. Might have heard from him," Gallows interjected.
"Shit," Rothchild said, drawing a disapproving look from the Elder.
"What? Why is him going to California bad? At least it gets him out of the picture here," Sarah said. Her father sighed as Rothchild spoke up.
"He's barely left Megaton for over two years and suddenly he decides to go to California? Doesn't make sense. The last thing we need is him going to the NCR and coming back with some foolish notion of creating a country here."
"Why is that bad? Even if he did, he's just one man," she shot back.
"Yes, one man. And have you forgotten what kind of man he is? I know as the years have passed it's been easy to forget, especially with his personality in the way. But there was fact behind the Lone Wanderer legend. I know you were fighting, Sarah, but Three-Dog wasn't exaggerating when he told those stories. He destroyed Raven Rock and the Crawler single-handedly," Rothchild replied. Sarah felt more annoyed by what the Scribe had said. It sounded like glowing praise, and he was supposed to be on her side. The Elder interrupted their argument before it could go further.
"Yes, all valid points; but please, let's stick to the matter at hand. Should we give Three-Dog any instructions?" Rothchild's face twisted into one of momentary thought before replying.
"No, no point," he began. "Three-Dog has sources all over. I'm sure he'll be reporting in another day or two on it anyway." The Elder nodded.
"Very well. Sarah, Gallows, you're dismissed. Go ahead and get food for yourselves. Rothchild and I have other matters to attend to." Sarah nodded before leaving, Gallows silently trailing her to the chow hall.
Susie wound her way with Christine through the Vault to the cafeteria. They both felt equally miserable-one of the beauties of living in the Vault was the women's cycles syncing up. They entered the cafeteria to find Amata, looking thoroughly exhausted, sitting with Elliot, the new doctor she had come back with. She wouldn't say where she had found him; just that he was a friend of JJ's. Susie knew that Amata was taking him leaving way harder than she let on; but she was still taken aback as she and Christine sat themselves at the table with Amata and Elliot. The doctor nodded in greeting at them, but Susie's eyes were on the huge tray of food in front of Amata. She had never seen Amata react like this to her period, and they had known each other all their lives. Looking at the Overseer's face, it was impossible not to notice how tired she looked. Tired, and with the redness of her eyes, slightly like she had been crying. The radio on the table softly played as Amata looked up from her food, which she was devouring. She at least waited to swallow before speaking.
"Hey, Susie. How's it going?" She didn't wait for a response before shoveling another mouthful of what looked to be eggs into her mouth. This is too weird. Amata had been borderline obsessed with her diet and exercise since they were teenagers. Must be the stress of the job and being depressed about JJ.
"I'm fine. Just tired. Cramped," she continued, forgetting Elliot was there. "Sorry, Doc," she said in a faux-sweet voice. He snickered at her; with the song ending in the background. The DJ, Three-Dog, came back on, more cheerful than anyone had a right to be this early.
Good morning Capital Wasteland! How's everyone doin'? Seems like we got a bit of news…Amata's eyes narrowed at the radio. She was practically waiting for him to say something about JJ, Susie thought.
It seems that the crazy kid from 101, our wayward Lone Wanderer, has left the Capital Wasteland for parts unknown; his Frankenstein in tow…
"Shut up! Shut up shut up shut up!" Amata shrieked, slamming her hand down on the radio. Susie, Elliot, and Christine sat shocked. Never had Amata lost her temper in front of others, not like that. Thankfully the cafeteria was empty aside from them. Noticing the looks on their faces, Amata ranted on. "I'm tired of that fucking idiot talk about what he doesn't know! All he does is talk about how great the Brotherhood is and I'm sick of it!"
"Ok, Amata," Christine replied in a soothing voice. Amata turned back to her food with a scowl on her face, Susie and Christine sharing a glance as she did. Elliot spoke up on behalf of all of them.
"Amata, why don't you come by the clinic and talk to me at some point?"
"Can't. Too busy," she snapped.
"I've been reading that handbook you gave me. Technically I can order you to come…"
"Fine," she again snapped, looking up. Her lip was trembling. Noticing them staring at her, she went on. "What? Why do you keep staring at me?!" The words poured out, her voice cracking as she spoke. Her food finished, she pushed away from the table, looking like she was on the verge of tears. "Excuse me," she said as she hurried from the room, leaving the three of them in stunned silence.
"What the fuck was that? I've never seen Amata get this emotional from her period," Christine said.
"That didn't seem like a reaction to her cycle…" Elliot trailed off. Susie could see him turning something over in his head. His eyes widened as she simultaneously came to the same conclusion after doing the math. Oh shit. There's no way to be sure yet but…fuck me, that's not good. The look in Elliot's eyes told her that not only had he reached the same conclusion, but that they should say nothing.
John looked at his freshly shaven face in the mirror. Ten days on the road had given him a thicker beard than he'd ever had, and it had not been comfortable. Still, he hadn't been as clean shaven as he now was since his father had died, if his memory served. Towel tied around his waist, he walked back out to his hotel room. They had arrived in Coalseam earlier in the day; and John had immediately realized Bonzo hadn't been lying in his descriptions of the place. It was bigger, better developed, and more populated than anywhere John had been. The highway to town led through heavily forested, rolling mountains. The closer they had gotten to the city, John noticed, the more the quality of the roads improved. No huge cracks and holes, no grass growing through. And the amount of traffic had increased, groups of people either coming from or heading to Coalseam. Bonzo had explained that many of the groups were hunters, heading out to bring in fresh meat. John had commented that they didn't seem heavily armed enough, drawing a round of laughter from Bonzo. He wouldn't explain to John what was funny, just telling him to wait and see. His first sight of town had been the most shocking-a valley filled with buildings, intact buildings, all protected by a high fence that was humming with electricity. "Keeps the animals out," Bonzo had said as they rolled through the gate and into town. After stopping at the market and trading, they had put the caravan in a guarded lot and, leaving the Brahmin to feed, had made their way to Bonzo's preferred hotel. It was a five story affair, built before the war but well maintained. It had electricity and running water, hot and cold, on demand, which was more than could be said for most everywhere John had been. All in all, he had not been disappointed in Coalseam. Their vast wealth of natural resources was obvious, but he wanted to find out how their infrastructure was maintained. Apparently there would be a chance tonight. John dressed in clean clothes and left; heading to the restaurant on the first floor to meet his companions. Apparently there was usually some sort of social event on Wednesday nights here, a way for people to celebrate that they were halfway to the weekend. Reaching the first floor, the woman at the front desk pointed him in the direction of the restaurant. Nodding his thanks, he made his way to it, following the signs posted in the hallway. Opening the door, he was met by the sight of the largest room he'd ever been in. On the far side of the room a stage was set up, an array on instruments upon it. Scanning the rapidly filling room, he spotted Bonzo and Smith seated at a table and strode over to meet them. He noticed they had dressed much more nicely than on the road, wearing clothing similar to the locals. Everyone seemed to wear similar styles; men in shirts and slacks and women in dresses, all in varying shades of white, black, gray, and a dull blue shade. While the town was certainly better off than any other place he'd been, there was a distinct drabness to it. Pulling up a seat, he looked at his companions.
"Where's Fawkes?"
"Back in his room," Bonzo replied. "People here aren't used to mutants and he didn't want to spend the night being stared at." John frowned at that.
"The only way to get people used to something is making them see it," he replied. Bonzo smiled at that.
"Not here, kid. I told you, this place isn't like everywhere else. The war didn't hit it, and outside of trading they try to keep the world the war created, the one we live in, out. These people are still living the way they did in the 21st century." John laughed as a waiter appeared, filling their glasses with water and…ice?! They have ice?! Even Smith chuckled seeing the look on John's face. "Easy there. Try not to make it too obvious you're not from around here," Bonzo said. Trying to take his mind off the ice, he picked up the menu. That proved to be a mistake.
"Steak? Chicken?" he asked, laughing at the joke menu. Looking up, he saw no amusement on the other men's faces, which were staring at their menus. "Shit, is this for real?"
"Yup," Bonzo replied as the waiter returned for their orders. "Venison chili," he said. The waiter wrote it down before looking to Smith.
"Steak and fries," he said in a deep, oddly accented voice. John realized it was the first time he'd heard the man speak. The waiter turned to face him.
"Uh…" he began, totally lost. He had no idea what any of this stuff was.
"Get him the chicken and mashed potatoes," Bonzo interjected. "He's a first timer," he continued, winking at the waiter, who smiled as he left to put the order in. The men sat silently, sipping their water as the first band played. It was a pair of women, accompanied by a man on guitar. They were singing what sounded to be an old spiritual song. John realized, abruptly, that this was one of the few places outside of the Vault that he'd seen other people who identified as Christians. He thought back to his history lessons in the Vault. He knew this region, and most of the Appalachians, had been settled by poor immigrants from Scotland and Ireland in the 1800s. His father had told him that his own family had come to the US from Ireland in the 21st century. Ancestry had been important in the Vault, as it had apparently been in Pre-War America. They sat, listening to the women singing, John lost in thought. The food arrived toward the end of their set, the crowd applauding as they stepped from the stage. John was too distracted by the food to pay attention to the next band climbing onto the stage. He had never seen anything like a chicken, except in pictures. Picking up a leg, he took a tentative bite. From under the crisp skin grease ran over his lips. It was the best thing John had ever tasted. He devoured the leg; his mind only coming back after it was gone. He noticed the song the band, a group of young men, had begun playing. He knew it, but hadn't heard it since the Vault. It was one of his favorite songs. He joined the crowd in singing the chorus.
Low lie, the fields of Athenry; where once we watched the small free birds fly. Our love was on the wing, we had dreams and songs to sing; it's so lonely 'round the fields of Athenry.
Smith and Bonzo stared at him as he sang. Finishing the chorus, he looked at them.
"How do you know this song, kid?" Bonzo asked.
"Heard it back in the Vault. Old Irish song. My dad told me his family came here from Ireland."
"What the fuck's an Ireland?" John sighed. That's right. No education.
"It's a place. Across the ocean." Smith grunted as Bonzo raised an eyebrow.
"If you say so, kid. Eat your potatoes while they're hot, the gravy here is good," he replied, turning to his food. John was too entranced to be irritated. That song made him think of Amata every time. Especially in the time after he had left the Vault, after making her Overseer. Sometimes he had felt like the man in the song, sent far away from the people he loved. He looked around the room, seeing families eating, young couples on dates, people happy and not worried about dying of dehydration or starvation. He realized that this was his goal for D.C. A stable place where people could do more than survive, but live. Getting there was what he still had to figure out.
Hi everyone. So, this took for-freaking-ever to do. Got really busy with school and then was too run down to write very much else. Anywho, so I know that they never talk at all about what the character's ancestry would be in-game; so I made his father's family of Irish descent as an homage to Liam Neeson, seeing as he was the voice actor for James. The rest of the stuff about Coalseam is basically based off of what the history of Appalachia and the culture there is. Anyway, hope you enjoy!