Wendy

I can't believe he did this. If I knew what he was going to do, I would've stopped him. I don't know how we would've got in, but it sure as fuck wouldn't be this way. After the initial fear, I got angry at him. How dare he make a decision like this – and all on his own.

I take a moment, stunned. He made this decision all on his own. He made this decision himself, without being ordered. I had no idea that he was capable of such a thing. He didn't tell me about it, because he knew that I would reject it immediately. I lean against him and close my eyes. I know they're gonna split us up as soon as possible. It will no doubt be painful for him. Probably even physically painful. From what he's told me of the contract and his programming, he'll be compelled to protect me, to keep me from being taken from his side.

It is, without a doubt, one of the most intimate connections I've ever had with anyone.

I have the urge to hug him. I know I can't do it, and I know that even if I could, he probably wouldn't appreciate it, but I want to anyway. When they load us into the vertibird, we're across from each other. Even if we weren't forbidden to talk, we'd be unable to hear each other anyway. I look into his eyes, and he looks away. I can see him struggling. It might be imperceptible to everyone else, but I've been with him long enough to where I can see him fighting his feelings, calming himself, letting the programming take over.


Charon

I forgot how loud it is in one of these goddamn things.

We're strapped in across from each other – why, I have no idea. It's not like we can talk or anything. We surrendered ourselves to them for fuck's sake. It makes no sense to do this. Maybe it's SOP, though. Standard Operating Procedure must be followed at all times, or the nearest officer would roast whoever ignored it, regardless of the reason. It's a career killer, that's for sure.

She looks into my eyes, and I look away.

I clear my mind; I make myself an empty vessel. Let the programming take control, so I don't have to feel. I don't want to think of what awaits us. It won't take long before we'll find out if I made an error in judgment.

I know I'm in beyond my depth, because I'm hoping beyond hope that I haven't fucked up.


As soon as we enter a cleverly hidden door in a cliff side, we're forcibly separated. We both fight against the soldiers. All they had to do was pick her up – she doesn't weigh much, and even panicked she didn't offer much resistance to them.

I bowled over two of them trying to get to her. They had to use shock sticks to incapacitate me. The pain was so intense that for a few fevered seconds, it expanded to encompass my whole existence. It took four of them to drag me into my cell and put me in restraints.

Mallie, I hope I did the right thing.


Wendy

They split us up, almost immediately. I panic. What will they do to him? What will they do to me? Where are they taking us? Will I see Virgil?

It was as bad as I thought it would be, even worse. He knocked over a couple of them trying to get back to me. My terrified screams and his enraged bellows filled the hallways. Oh Jesus, no! I saw them hit him with the shock sticks; he fell hard, twitching. "You motherFUCKERS!" I kicked and jerked against them. "Don't hurt him!" I screamed, over and over, even as they pulled me away, removed the ties on my arms, took away my Pip-Boy, and placed me into something they called a "restraining pod."

I screamed for him until I was hoarse, too tired to continue. I missed his presence, terribly. I hadn't been but feet away from him, for months. It was like…it was like losing a hand. For him, it could only be worse.


Virgil

When they found them, they told me immediately. They let me watch the video feed when they brought them in. There's no mistaking Dad – he's unique, even among ghouls. But that woman – she couldn't be my Wendy. She has short hair! She's dirty, cussing up a storm, and I can swear that she has a metal claw where her hand should be, although from this angle, I can't be sure.

The scene is heart-rending to say the least. They fight when they're separated. They have to hit Dad with shock sticks and drag him down the hall. I'm so in shock that I don't know what to feel, what to do, who to talk to.


I stand in Joseph's office. "It's them, isn't it?"

"As far as we can tell. The ghoul just put his hands up and turned them both in." I don't believe it. Dad wouldn't be that stupid. He'd have to know that they'd take them in, separate them. He had to know the scene that unfolded before my eyes, even before it happened. Either she told him to do it – which I doubt – or he decided to do it on his own, which is surprising to say the least. I can think of only one reason, one thing that would make him do it: me.

"I want to see them. Both of them."

"Absolutely."


Wendy

My head hurts, and my tongue is thick. Fuck, I'm thirsty. Slowly, the fog begins to clear. It must be driving Charon crazy to be separated from me. I hope he doesn't do anything stupid, like try to hurt someone, just to get to me. I feel like an idiot – I should have given him orders. I should have told him not to try to help me.

"Hi Wendy."

"Virgil?" I almost can't believe it.

"Yes."

"Oh, thank God, you're alive!" I can't help myself, I start crying.

"I couldn't even tell it was you, with your hair cut like that." He says, a note of disapproval in his voice. Well, I did it out of necessity, not out of vanity.

"Oh, yeah – it's easier to take care of short hair with one hand."

"What happened to your hand?"

"Oh, that…it was an accident." I say, flippantly. It's been around two months since I lost it; I've long since accepted the realities of life without it. That's not to say that I don't miss it from time to time, but practical concerns trump everything out in the wasteland – even sentimentality for a lost hand.

He fidgets, then looks away from me. "Is it true?" he asks.

"Huh?"

He repeats his question, and it finally penetrates my fuzzy brain. "Is it true?" I suddenly realize that he's dressed in an Enclave officer uniform – or what looks like one. I can't tell the difference.

"Is what true?" I ask, although I already know what he's asking about. It could only be one thing.

"Did you sleep with him?" he asks, so low, it's almost a whisper. They'd told him. Of course – how could they not have? Gossip travels fast, even in the wasteland. It didn't take long for them to force the truth out of me. I remember a stern face, shock sticks.

Fuck it. He knows it already. "You know it's true." The wasteland's made me hard. Angry. Took my compassion. Maybe it's with my hand. I look into his eyes, see hurt and betrayal. "He'd tell you anything to protect me. You know he would." I pull ineffectively against the restraining pod. "It was my fault. All mine." I sob. "I went to him."

"I trusted you."

"I couldn't help it. I lost my hand, and…and I was so lonely." Tears clouded my vision, and start to run down my cheeks. He stares at me silently, his face a mask of disapproval, disgust. "I was thinking of you, every time, if it makes any difference." I sob.

"It doesn't." He turns on his heel, boots clicking on the hard floor. The door closes, with a series of metallic shrieks.

Trust is like a piece of paper – once the paper is crumpled up, it can't ever be perfect again.