Elder Lyons reclined on a couch in the Solar, his personal quarters within the Citadel. He had been ruminating on the events of that afternoon until his daughter had entered.

"Did you see that girl when she came in the gate, Father? I've seen Knights with less steel in their gaze than her. Who is she again?"

"She is the daughter of one James and Catherine Farley. The James who restarted the purifier project just recently, and paid for it with his life today."

"I see. Poor girl. Seemed like I was talking Chinese when I tried to speak to her out there. It must have been shock. Still, she got that whole group of civilians here safely. And she's just out of a Vault you say?"

"Yes. James went underground with her after we withdrew support for the project back in '58. Though she's been… busy for the last few months." Lyons knew Sarah didn't pay much attention to the radio, focussing instead on her duties as a Sentinel. She and her elite combat unit, the Lyons' Pride, were more practical, following orders with imagination and efficiency. They tended to leave the broader thinking about how the Brotherhood of Steel fit into the Capital Wasteland to others like himself.

"Damn busy if she learned her way around in a few months."

She perhaps didn't realise how just important Galaxy News Radio was for their chapter of the Brotherhood nowadays. "Perhaps you will be able to speak with her later, Sarah. She was shown to a place to rest. She may have calmed down now." She perhaps didn't know the effect Three Dog's positive broadcasts had on support for the Brotherhood in D.C.

"I will. Don't often meet a wastelander that can handle themselves, let alone others, like that."

"Well, when you do, I want you to do something for me, Sarah."

"What is it?"

She perhaps didn't know the damage that could be done if the Brotherhood was publicly associated with the kid from the vault who, it was said, detonated the bomb in Megaton. "Keep a watchful eye over her, would you? It doesn't look like she'll need babysitting, but try to ensure she remains unharmed and out of trouble. It seems the purifier could work after all, and she is a part of that." She might not see the signs that this story contained the stuff of legend, the unifying effect that a folk hero could have on the locals. If the hero could outshine her past, that was.

"Yes, Father."

Lyons' Brotherhood had been rather ineffective at doing anything more than containing the supermutant threat in the area, failing to understand where they came from or why they infested the city ruins. Their resources and men dwindled after being cut off from the western chapters, but Lyons didn't regret a thing. He was helping people more directly than his brothers who continued to protect them from themselves. Defending Project Purity had been a noble cause. But after it was abandoned, without reinforcements or resupply, recruitment became an ever more pressing need.

"Father… if you've had any more thoughts on assaulting the purifier, the Pride are ready to go."

His worry was, with such an unimpressive recent history, that the wastelanders in their ignorance might not care for a war between the Brotherhood and the Enclave. If the Enclave, with their superior technology and numbers, offered unlimited pure water to the area, who could blame the people if they flocked their way?

"Oh, Sarah. My dear, sweet girl. So eager you are to rush headlong into battle. No, I have not. As I said, our time will come. Now, you may be my daughter, but you're also a Sentinel. And questioning my orders is perilously close to insubordination."

"I'm sorry Fath... Elder. I will see to our guest."

He smiled as she left, sighing at his choice of words. After all, he disobeyed orders all those years ago when he put the settlers of the Capital Wasteland above the technology that could be found here. It was the right thing to do, but it didn't make living with the consequences any easier.

Sarah visited the barrack room where the impressive young woman had been quartered in the evening. But all she found were a few Knights, who shrugged when questioned on where she went.

She tried with the scientists she brought with her, but they hadn't seen her. Finally, in the lab, the leader of the group Dr. Li was busying herself. Sarah knew everyone had their own ways of dealing when shit hit the fan, but she couldn't get her head around doing more work. She preferred a drink.

The doctor seemed exceptionally frayed, and a heavy air of sadness weighted her words. She informed Sarah the girl said she was going for a drink at Rivet City. "I warned her it was safer to stay here for the time being but... I don't think she cares right now."

Damn. The Citadel wasn't dry, but at least she could understand this kind of reaction.

"Why didn't you stop her?" she asked the Paladin on the main gate.

"First orders were to keep outsiders outside, now I gotta keep 'em in?" he grumbled.

If she was to fulfil her father's request, she better double time it to Rivet City. There were plenty of ways for a girl to get in trouble in that heap of rust.

Butch brought a fresh round of drinks to the table. "You're welcome by the way," he snarked.

Talia looked at him blearily. "I'll pay you back… I only got out with some of the caps I have."

"Sure," he looked at her sidelong and pushed her drink over. "You sure you ain't had enough?"

"No. Not today. Don't tell me you've gone all goody, goody, judgey on me too."

"No, it's just…" he waved a hand in dismissal. "Forget it."

"I'm trying."

They drank quietly for a minute. "It'll… get easier, y'know. I know you feel like shit now, but you'll figure somethin' out. I did."

Talia tried to steady her focus on that beautiful face through the stagnant, smoky air of the Muddy Rudder. Despite obviously caring for James and Janice, Li had not been willing to speak much with Talia, let alone offer any comfort. She had given her thanks for getting them to safety, but ever since Talia confirmed her involvement in Megaton she'd felt a wall go up. What did she expect? Things never went nicely for her, and she wasn't exactly inviting good things from the universe with the things she'd done. She felt drawn to the only other link to her past, but it seemed it wasn't to be.

Butch was her only remaining friend who had known James. And he knew what he was talking about when it came to a dead parent. His words meant far more than the empty condolences of the strangers in the Citadel.

"Thank you," she breathed, placing a hand on his arm. He leaned in a little closer. "I just want to go home," she sighed.

"Then why don't you?"

"The Enclave are out there," she said, remembering the bright glow of the energy shield that now surrounded the Jefferson memorial. "The Brotherhood of Steel people said they've already blocked off the only ways out of D.C. And it's miles away, and the Regulators, and just my luck these Brotherhood guys would chase me down too."

"You pissed a lot of people off, short stuff?"

"Yeah. My dad pissed off these guys though. I don't know what they want… they think they run the country… I'd stay away Butch. They'll kill you if you get in the way." She swallowed the memory of how the Colonel shot Janice. "What am I going to do?"

Butch shrugged. "Get over it, get on with your life."

"My dad just died Butch," she implored ruefully.

"Welcome to the club. I didn't get a break or anything after my mom died. None of us did. Not Christine. Not even Amata."

Talia sat back in her seat. Was this some cosmic payback for taking out her anger on Amata's dad? "No, he killed himself," she thought out loud. "Geez, I thought you were sympathetic Butch."

"I am. That's gotta suck, with no one to blame and all. I'm just surprised Tal."

"About what? Oh my God, you mean that I'm upset?!"

Butch shifted awkwardly. "Well, the way you smoked the Overseers and… you know, that town."

"You don't know anything about that," she grumbled.

"Yeah, I guess not. I know I don't wanna get on the wrong side of you, so let's change the subject huh?"

She sighed. "I'm not… I'm not like that. Am I?" she asked more to herself.

Butch shrugged non-committally.

She buried her face in her hands. "How do you move on when they've landed you in so much shit?" She looked at Butch. "How do you forgive them?" She asked, knowing Butch's relationship with his mom had not been particularly good. She pushed when he didn't seem to follow. "Your mom was… how did you put up with all that? The drinking, and… Did you feel like you shouldn't be sad?"

He shifted uncomfortably and frowned at her questions, but seeing her earnest expression, or maybe because he was as smashed as she was, he answered. "Honestly, sometimes I didn't. It was kind of a relief. From having to look out for her, and the arguing. But she was still my mom. At least she don't worry about me no more."

"Shit, Butch…" Talia stroked his arm again, tearing up at the emotion she could see in his face.

"Shit. She was kind of a shitty mom. But she was my family. I'm just out here provin' her wrong, y'know?" Talia nodded, squeezing his arm harder as his voice cracked. He took a big breath and reset his usually confident expression. "Don't tell no one about this, yeah?" he muttered.

She scoffed softly. "Who am I gonna tell? We're alone out here…"

"Yeah, right…" he agreed glumly.

But right now Talia didn't feel alone. And somewhere through the whisky haze her brain knew it and didn't want to let it go. The room was humming. The smoke blocked her view. The crowd fell away as she leaned over, planting her lips on Butch's.

She moved against him for a second before he responded, pulling his arm free and slipping it round her waist, kissing her back with a rising urgency that swept her along in its torrid current. She clung to his jacket, falling deep under the feeling she was needed, wanted. His other hand caught her, and his embrace was quicksand. She pulled away only a hair to ask if he had a room here.

He nodded and led her away by the hand.

She held onto him tight, for the gangways were spinning. They staggered into the walls a few times, ignoring the watchful stares of a few security guards. Eventually they stopped outside a cabin hatch. Butch knocked a long rap. "Why you knocking on your own door?" she sniggered, lurching heavily against his arm.

"Roommate," he answered quickly. "We uh, give each other a bit of space when we need it, y'know what I mean?"

"Ugh," she breathed, but closed her eyes and leant on his shoulder.

"Hey man," she heard as the door opened. She kept her eyes shut during the exchange, as though if she didn't see him he wouldn't see her. She was mildly aware of a small voice deep in her mind. She thought it belonged to somebody called Shame.

Butch led her inside and closed the hatch behind them. The sound jolted a memory to the surface of the swamp that was her mind…

The Weatherly. A job. Burke.

Butch's hands found her waist once more and she turned, resuming their kiss.

Burke's hands cupped her cheeks, warm and firm, tilting her face to his as he told her how well she'd done. She craved his touch almost as much as his praise, his pleased smile and proud words always making her feel weightless.

Butch reached up to her shoulders, pushing her jacket down and off her arms. Snaking his hands under her sweater, he pulled it up over her head. Her hair mingled between their lips while she shook it off her wrists and threw it aside. She pulled back and wiped her face clear, urging Butch's jacket off too. He shrugged it off eagerly, pulling her back to him and pushing them both toward the cot.

Their feet tangled in her jacket and they staggered, falling into a heap on the thin old naval mattress. "Oh, shit, you okay?"

"Mmmf," Talia nodded.

Butch stood to get out of his Vault suit, and Talia shuffled back into a seat. Now that they were away from the noise of the bar, her ears were ringing. The room was swimming. He climbed beside her in just his underwear, but her mind was everywhere. She barely noticed him kissing her neck, coaxing her backward, foggily coming to as his hands roamed beneath her shirt. She kissed him again, seeking the feeling from the bar, but it wasn't there. Everything was wrong somehow.

As he fumbled with her belt she weakly pushed his hand away. "I can't," she shook her head.

"Drank too much babe? It's okay, we'll go slow." He slid his hand up her waist and moved to kiss her but she turned her head and stopped him with a hand on his chest.

"No, it's not that. I just can't." She shuffled aside, urging him off her. "I'm sorry." She leant up against the wall and hugged her knees.

"Well we… we don't have to do everything…" he sighed a little, stroking her arm.

She shook her head and shrugged off his hand.

"Geez, Tali, you sure know how to wind me up huh," he said, more irately now.

"Butch, don't," she implored, too drunk to rebuke him. "I said I'm sorry. Did you really expect this to make any of us feel better?"

He paused. "Yes!"

She scoffed. She already felt terrible. She cradled her head in a hand. Thankfully Butch went quiet. Despite the mess she was in she sensed she had dodged a bullet. Exes were that for a reason.

"Butch," she pondered after a while. "Did I do something wrong? When we were dating?"

"What? No."

Talia sighed rather than voice how low she felt at that moment.

"I was just a stupid kid, Tal," Butch continued.

After a delay Talia snorted. "Dude, you're like two years older. What are you talking about?"

"Hey, that's a long time," he complained, "I got all the way out here on my own didn't I? You're not special just 'cause you killed the Overseer. I've done things too, y'know."

"Oh yeah?" she asked, interest piqued. "Like what?"

"No way, you'll just laugh."

"No I won't, tell me."

"Yeah right. You've done some pretty intense stuff Tal… I mean, I'm down for action but you… girl, you're a psycho."

She shoved him. "I am not. I told you... you don't know anything." She swung her legs over the cot and stood, stumbling across to the other side of the room not entirely on purpose. She steadied herself on the wall and retrieved her sweater from the ground. "I'm not staying here if you're gonna… say things like that," she struggled into it and bent down to grab her jacket, falling on her ass in the process.

"Alright, whatever, you're a god damn saint." Butch's hand hovered in front of her face, offering assistance.

She swatted it away like a fly and rolled onto her knees, heaving herself up via the cot.

"Where you gonna go? Not the common room, that place is for losers. Just crash here."

"No thank you," she wheezed as she failed to get into her upside down jacket. She cursed under her breath and spun it round several times until it made some kind of sense. When it was finally on she headed for the door, bodyweight slamming into it as she turned the wheel.

"Talia," Butch protested.

"Fuckov," she sighed over her shoulder. "I know… where I'm going." She heaved the hatch open.

Butch knocked several things over as he hurried into a pair of trousers.

Talia left, collecting Dogmeat who was waiting outside. She meandered down the gangway in the direction of the science lab. Butch caught her up at an intersection, where she was stumbling in circles and struggling to focus on the signage.

"Here," she pointed, striding confidently down to the right. She bounced off the wall with some force.

"Tal, where are you going?" Butch asked behind her.

"Here," she repeated, when the laborious journey ended in front of a hatch. "Dr. Li's room. She's not here, so I can stay here. I just got to break in, but she won't mind." She ran her hands through her hair trying to find a pin. "Damn, do you have… anything like a… a bobby pin? Or a lockpick?"

"Well, not on me. Wait, why would I have a lockpick?"

"Why would you have a lockpick?" came an unfamiliar voice.

The pair looked around to see two security guards watching them. "You two better come with us."

Talia made a dash for it. She thought she made it pretty far before one of the guards tackled her. She noticed how little it hurt compared to the first time she face planted the floor under Chief Hannon. She was heaved up against the wall and cuffed.

The guard marched her back up the hallway where she saw Butch getting the same treatment. "Let's get these reprobates to the brigg," her guard said to the other.

"Hey man, chill out!" Butch complained as he was hauled to his feet. "And watch the hair!"

Burke ran a hand through his hair as he hung his hat in the Littlehorn and Associates office. He'd decided keeping busy in this particular fashion would do him some good right now. His man on the ground had informed him Talia seemed to be stationed at the old Jefferson Memorial, along with a team of scientists who were working on a giant water purification project. Do-gooders, he'd thought, but at least she was in one place for the foreseeable future. With any luck she'd get bored by her own account and return. She loved a bit of action, and he could give her plenty of that if she wanted.

"I see you've finally learned how to use the hat stand, Burke?" Miss Underwood's voice barely reached his ears.

He looked at her and then his hat and frowned. "Well that's what it's there for." He also hung his coat.

"What imposter has replaced you?" she questioned. "You haven't intruded on my desk or harassed me once in weeks."

"My apologies. I have business," Burke replied curtly. "Can I go in?"

"Yes," she replied staidly. "And good morning to you too," she muttered, Burke missing her visibly deflate.

"Ah Mr. Burke," Littlehorn called from the far side of his desk. "I wasn't expecting you so soon."

"A pleasant surprise, I hope," Burke forced out calmly.

"Indeed." The old man's eyes glittered black. "Though I thought I would be seeing your protege before you, to be frank."

"Unfortunately she is otherwise engaged at the moment. The wasteland has a habit of interfering with plans, even for the likes of us."

Littlehorn chortled, and Burke swore he glimpsed a forked tongue inside that duplicitous mouth. "Speak for yourself, Mr. Burke. Littlehorn and Associates has been operating without interruption for… oh, as long as I can remember. And so it shall continue, regardless of anybody out there making waves."

Burke clenched his jaw. His hunch was right, the old lizard knew what was going on outside. "Excellent," he crooned, hiding his irritation. "Then I can collect some contracts from you and be on my way? I've no doubt I will be in touch with her soon, anyhow."

"Indeed!" Littlehorn waved him out, grinning so widely Burke thought his lower jaw might detach itself, as when a snake needs to swallow a large meal.

He took a folder from an unusually sullen Miss Underwood and flicked through the files before leaving. His jaw slackened at the third sheet, and he pulled it to the top.

"What is the meaning of this?" he demanded, shoving it in front of the secretary's face.

She gave it a cursory glance before shrugging a shoulder. "I just process them, Burke."

"Well it's wrong," he barked.

The secretary looked up at him and smiled joylessly. "I assure you, Burke darling, it is not. I do not make mistakes. I'm sure you know as well as I do how long I would last around here if I did." Her smile dropped and she returned to her work in that trance-like fashion Burke often observed.

He let out a growl and stormed back into Littlehorn's office, ignoring Miss Underwood's pleas behind him. "You treacherous, backstabbing viper."

"Back so soon?" Littlehorn chirped through the smile still plastered on his face.

"Obviously." He slammed the papers on the desk. "What is she doing in here?"

He peeled up the top sheet between two bony digits and replaced it after a glance. "I don't know why she's here, Mr. Burke. Delicious though, isn't it?"

Burke fumed. "Get rid of it."

"I cannot simply destroy a contract, Burke. It must be fulfilled or retracted by the owner. You know that."

Burke paced on the spot, glaring at Littlehorn, wondering if he could make it across the desk and throttle him before he turned into a swarm of locusts. "Is this some sort of joke? She's one of us. She can't be a target."

Littlehorn shook his head. "Not officially. She's still your charge."

"Yes, damn it, so she has immunity."

"She has not yet set foot in this office. She has not received a formal invitation. I know it sounds bureaucratic, but how else can an operation like this run without getting tangled in its own web?"

Burke sped to the desk. "You ignominious snake," he spat, slamming his fist down on the wood with his last word. "She's already completed more jobs than any of the casual contractors on the books."

"All the same, she is not on the books Mr. Burke. Now, I gave you the contract as a courtesy, so you could put your own idea to bed how you see fit. If you wish to argue with me, I can send this document to someone else so it won't bother you any longer." He locked Burke with a questioning look.

Burke willed the old man to be consumed by flames in his very seat. After several moments Littlehorn sat forward and reached toward the papers. Burke swiped the whole pile up before he could touch it.

"Very good. Thank you, Mr. Burke."

Burke could only snarl in response.

"It was a very intriguing plan though. Better luck next time."

Burke stormed out before he lost his resolve not to do anything stupid. Miss Underwood looked up with surprise as he emerged unscathed. "How do you work for him, Miss Underwood?" he asked while roughly donning his hat and coat. "How is it you don't smother him with all this damned paperwork?"

She raised an eyebrow. "Simple, Burke. We have no choice, do we?"

Outside, he read over the contract again before folding it away into his pocket. How had Talia become a target? He didn't even look at the others before setting off to the east. His destination now was D.C., his goal to find her. The project was over.