A Rickety Rescue

Sarah winced as Mrs. Bossanova injected the stimpak into her arm. The lilac gel—whatever it was—healed the worst of her laser burn—making her very giddy for a while too—but there was still some tenderness and oozing left behind. Now she watched as her skin knit itself back together, like nothing ever happened.

"Chems don't work as well on ghouls," Mrs. Bossanova said, checking Sarah's arm over carefully. Her tone suggested she'd said the same thing many times over to different people. "That includes stimpaks and this." She held the little tub aloft. "A rare little trick from the West. Works pretty well...if you're human."

"It's not the same for us?"

"We need double dosage of everything. Stimpaks are the worst. Too many at once is a risk of addiction, or even a reduction in effectiveness." She paused at Sarah's quizzical stare and corrected herself. "If anyone has too many stimpaks at once, they can make you sick and eventually don't work as well. It happens to humans too, but it's more likely to happen to ghouls because of how many we need. Does that make sense?"

Sarah nodded, though she wondered how medicine could make you ill. Mrs. Bossanova refused to use any stimpaks on herself, her wounds still slightly peeling and raw. When she saw Sarah looking, Mrs. Bossanova said, "You're smaller than me. The chems will take better to you, even though you're a ghoul. But I'd rather find a steady source of radiation instead, for future...mishaps. I did have a radiation gun for emergencies, but I seem to have lost it during my dip in the Quantum river." She frowned, looking irritated.

"Oswald has magic," Sarah said casually, but watching the old lady's face carefully. Just like last time, Mrs. Bossanova seemed to stiffen, but disguised it quickly and smiled. If Sarah hadn't known what to look for, she would have missed it.

"Who?" Mrs. Bossanova asked, suddenly interested in picking away the dead skin around her injuries.

"He's the greatest." Sarah's eyes narrowed as she studied her. "Really nice. And he glows. Made green magic come out of his hands and all my cuts and bruises went away."

"Sounds lovely."

"We should go see him. He'd make us better straight away."

"Mm." Mrs. Bossanova refused to meet Sarah's gaze. "I don't really have time for that."

"It's not far. Ever been to Kiddie Kingdom?"

"No."

"That's not what you said when you came back to Jack's. After you fell in the Quantum river."

Mrs. Bossanova looked up sharply, pressing her lips together in a fierce line. She stared at Sarah, something dangerous dancing behind her black eyes, her brow furrowed as if trying to remember what was said. Then all at once, her expression cleared, friendliness and ease flooding in like a burst dam as she smiled widely. "Ahh, yes, I forgot. Silly me. Never drink from that river, Sarah. It plays awful things with your memory."

Sarah said nothing, waiting for the explanation.

Mrs. Bossanova shifted where she sat, coughing awkwardly. "From what I can recall," she said slowly, scrunching her face up in obvious concentration, "I went there before the Bottling Plant. I never got a chance to explore it last time, because we found you and took you back to Nuka Town."

Sarah nodded. So far, it made sense.

"When I went back, he was leaving." Mrs. Bossanova shrugged. "We talked briefly. I tried to convince him to join me, but he wanted to go and do other things. Wouldn't say what they were."

Sarah relaxed a little, though something still didn't sit right. Oswald mentioned his girlfriend Rachel last time she'd seen him. Almost at once, Sarah knew he'd gone to find her. She told Mrs. Bossanova this, and the old lady nodded thoughtfully.

"You're probably right." She patted her injuries and then picked up her clothes, pulling the white t-shirt over her head with a hiss of pain. She struggled to get her arm in, until Sarah took pity on her and helped, along with the waistcoat. The poncho went on nice and easy, obscuring Mrs. Bossanova's sinewy frame and all the different knives glittering on her belt.

Sarah considered her. This was a woman at home with violence. She remembered the day Mrs. Bossanova first walked into the marketplace, sneering at the raiders and putting Mr. Corbett in his place. Even when the raiders tried to kill her, she went out and didn't come back until she was covered with blood.

She was friends with Gage.

"Why are you so nice to me?" Sarah said, before she could stop herself.

Mrs. Bossanova frowned.

Sarah bit her lip. "I mean, I'm a slave. You aren't like this with anyone else. Not even Gage."

The old lady said nothing for a moment, her hand lazily resting on the hilt of her sword as she studied Sarah, like she was weighing her options. Deciding what Sarah could know. "Gage...Gage doesn't know what to do with kindness." She sighed, shaking her head. "He sees it as a weak point to be exploited. I don't think the man has ever had a meaningful or honest relationship in his life."

"I don't understand."

"For Gage, people being nice is frightening. It means they want something. So he distances himself, always staying on his guard. It's the reason he's lived so long, but…" Mrs. Bossanova frowned, looking past Sarah now. "He will always be on his own." Her eyes snapped back to Sarah and she looked apologetic. "Sorry. In simpler terms, if you're nice, he thinks you're out to hurt him."

"That's stupid," Sarah said, rolling her eyes.

"No it's not." Mrs. Bossanova gave her a pointed look. "I've seen how you act when Gage tries to make an effort. You're uncomfortable. You don't trust him."

"That's because he put a collar on me! And he's always horrible!"

"Maybe so. But you think other raiders have never been horrible to Gage? He's learned from experience to be wary. I think you have too."

Sarah opened and closed her mouth in shock. It was as Jack said. She was becoming like the raiders. In an effort to push this alarming thought away, Sarah said, "But why does he keep being nasty one minute and okay the next? I don't get it."

"I have no idea." Mrs. Bossanova shrugged as Sarah narrowed her eyes. "It's true; I don't." She paused. "Maybe...and this is a real maybe —because you blew up half the Fizztop Grille and took out all those raiders in the process."

"He likes me because I blew up your house?" Sarah said, her mouth falling open.

"Like is too strong of a word. But yes, I think that's the reason. What you did takes guts and a bit of initiative." Mrs. Bossanova smiled at her. "You're a slave, a ghoul, and a child: three of the worst things to be in the wasteland. But you don't let that stop you. I think Gage admires that. I know I do."

Sarah's cheeks suddenly felt warm, and she stared at her feet. "But Gage seems to like Jack a lot." She glanced up at Mrs. Bossanova. "When he was drunk on the Quantum, I heard him say he'd…" Her cheeks burned harder as she recalled his cussing. "He—he said he'd do anything for her."

"Did he?" Mrs. Bossanova said, looking quite surprised. A wide, pleased smile unfurled across her face. "I'm glad."

"But you just said—"

"Adults are complicated, Sarah. As much as Gage can care for anyone, I think he cares for Jack. She's a good influence on him in a lot of ways, and the type of person he needs in his life. Not that he'll ever admit it. Least of all to himself."

Sarah shifted where she sat. "She seems to like him a lot. I don't know why. He's really grumpy."

Mrs. Bossanova continued to smile knowingly, but didn't say anything.

Another thought came to Sarah's mind. "That girl outside the Galactic Zone. Tiana. You gave her a stimpak."

At the sound of Tiana's name, the smile slid from Mrs. Bossanova's face, and she looked still and sombre all of a sudden. "I did."

"Why?"

The old lady looked surprised at her. "Why? Heavens, Sarah, what would you have done? She was in a lot of pain."

"But…" Sarah shook her head, confused. The bald admission was one thing, but the way Mrs. Bossanova seemed shocked, even alarmed by Sarah's question shook Sarah to her core. "You don't seem bothered about that kind of thing normally. I've seen you be mean to loads of people."

"Only when Gage is around."

Sarah closed her mouth. The first night she met Mrs. Bossanova drifted to the forefront of her mind. An old woman slicing the head of a raider clean off, before falling to her knees and weeping to the dark sky. Sarah had been true to her word and never told a soul. Sarah thought she understood. She licked her lips and said, "Why are you telling me all of this? Why do you let me stay with you?"

"Because I like you," Mrs. Bossanova replied, her expression soft. "And I trust you. Your place in this world is hard, and yet you've managed to keep your innocence. It's something to be celebrated and protected."

Slowly, she got to her feet and offered her hand.

Sarah took it.

It was like being with Wiseman again, Sarah decided.

She smiled as Mrs. Bossanova scouted ahead, throwing concerned glances back at Sarah every few seconds to check she'd stayed put. The old lady guarded her as fiercely as a deathclaw with their brood, but didn't treat her like a silly child. She talked to Sarah, not down at her, and together they scoured the Galactic Zone, collecting the precious star pieces.

There wasn't much opportunity for talking, though—the slightest noise drew the attention of the robots, and they were forced to duck and dive out of the way, lurking in the shadows until the danger passed.

The other rides of the park were just as amazing as the theater and the battlezone. The Vault-Tec tour—which took them through a tunnel full of shifting stars and into a real vault —was Sarah's favourite, right up until the Nuka-Galaxy ride.

She knew it was special from the moment she laid eyes on it. The silvery-white building stood out from the reds and blues of the surrounding structures, a large, star spangled rocket swooping over the entrance, 'Nuka-Galaxy' etched into its fiery trail.

"Wow," whispered Sarah, staring up in awe. Mrs. Bossanova nudged her gently, smiling, and the two of them crept inside together.

It was gloomier indoors, the silver floor and wall panels tinted by the blue glow of the dim lights. A large window followed the curve of the wall, showing a large orange planet suspended in the inky black of space. Sarah ran over and pressed her face to the glass. The illusion shattered, and she saw the peeling paint and wires holding everything up.

She swallowed her disappointment just as Mrs. Bossanova grabbed her by the arm and pulled her back. "Don't forget where we are."

Sarah stared up into her black eyes. They weren't angry or annoyed, but cautioning her all the same. The meaning was clear: there were worse fates than being told off.

She stayed close to Mrs. Bossanova after that. They moved through into a large room, filled with little metal fences in a repetitive pattern around a red and white rocket in the centre, lit by several spotlights. She almost asked what the fences were for, but a robot ambled into view, so she held her tongue. Mrs. Bossanova could answer her questions later.

The next room had a long red track running across it, with little rocket shaped carts on it. Sarah guessed they must have been for the ride when everything worked, but it looked like they were powered down now. Mrs. Bossanova paused, glancing around, and then sidled over to the track, gingerly testing her weight on it.

"I think," she murmured, edging along the track, "we need to follow this and see where it takes us."

Sarah hesitated. She'd seen some of the other rides around the park, peeking over the walls in the distance. They went high.

Mrs. Bossanova seemed to know what she was thinking, and leapt at the chance. "If this is too much, head back to the brothel. I'll even take you there. How about that, hm?"

Maybe it was the fact Mrs. Bossanova was trying to bend Sarah to her will through her own hesitation, or that time and time again her progress was stopped when she was afraid—whatever the cause, Sarah suddenly felt annoyed at the mere suggestion of heading back. Mrs. Bossanova didn't want her here, and was using this to send her away.

"Nah," said Sarah, dropping lightly down onto the track and staring boldly back up at the old woman. "I'll be fine."

Mrs. Bossanova's expression was hard to read, but Sarah thought she saw a trace of amusement. Then she grinned, staring down at her. "Alright. Let's go."

They moved along the track, ducking through the door into the open area. Sarah nearly fainted on the spot. She dropped down to her hands and knees, breathing heavily, and bit back a scream as she stared down directly into the yawning chasm below.

Somewhere in the distance, she heard Mrs. Bossanova say, "Want to go back?"

"No," Sarah squeaked.

She whimpered as Mrs. Bossanova walked over, the track wobbling slightly with every step. Mrs. Bossanova crouched down next to her. "You've nothing to prove. To me or to yourself. If you're not ready, we'll head back."

She almost said yes. She almost admitted defeat. But Sarah was tired of fear ruling her life, and so she looked up to find Mrs. Bossanova wearing a gentle, understanding smile. Sarah tried to return it. "I want to keep going."

Mrs. Bossanova stood up and offered Sarah her hand. Trembling, not wanting to release her grip on her only lifeline, Sarah let go of the track and took hold of Mrs. Bossanova. She was pulled to her feet carefully, gradually.

"I've got you," the old lady whispered. "Just follow my lead."

And off they went again. Sarah leaned into Mrs. Bossanova, clutching her hand tight, doing her best to put the dizzying drop out of her mind. But as they went on, she found herself distracted by her surroundings, and soon was only clutching the boss by the very tips of her fingers.

Huge planets that glowed in the dark hung from the ceiling, far more spectacular than any she had seen before. Below, far, far down on the ground, green men in white suits fired lasers at the robots, locked in a fearsome battle. Rockets dotted the area, tall and majestic, their pointed tips reaching high into the air.

The track dipped, so low they were level with the fighters, and she breathed a little sigh of relief. Mrs. Bossanova and Sarah breezed past them like ghosts, but she suspected if they had noticed them, the green men and the robots would have cut them down in an instant.

Then they were climbing higher again, consumed by blackness. The planets returned, with new alien spaceships dotted around next to them, supported on vast beams. They were huge, maybe half the size of the Fizztop Grille each, and covered in lights of every colour around their edges in amazing patterns. The lights couldn't distract her from the turrets set underneath each one, though, and she eyed them nervously as they passed.

The track levelled out, running along the floor, before slowing heading up in a steep ascent.

Mrs. Bossanova hesitated. She held up her hand, making Sarah stay on solid ground, and edged along the track, investigating it.

"No other way forward. Not that I can see, anyway." She turned to Sarah. "Do you want to stay here?"

"No," said Sarah, though she really did. Wherever that track was going, it was climbing higher than any other part of the ride. No doubt there'd be a big drop on the other side.

Mrs. Bossanova looked between Sarah and the track, as if trying to psyche herself up for it, and then leaned forward, struggling up it like an overly large set of ladders. Sarah crept after her, her little legs straining with effort to reach each rung. Sweat dripped down her face as she worked, and more than once Mrs. Bossanova had to drag her up as she started to slip back down with a cry of fright.

Finally, the peak of the track was in sight, straightening out on a high platform.

"With any luck, there'll be a ladder on the other side," Mrs. Bossanova grunted, pushing Sarah up ahead of her. "They had to do maintenance on these things after all."

Sarah was grateful for help, her hands so slick she could barely hold on. Then just as she reached the top, the track juddered. Sarah froze, the screech of metal on metal slicing through her like a knife.

"Go, go!" Mrs. Bossanova yelled below her.

Sarah didn't need telling twice. She scrambled up the track, and threw herself onto the platform with a heavy thud. She was on her feet in an instant, whipping around to see where Mrs. Bossanova was. The old lady hadn't moved, hanging above the deep darkness, and in that moment, Sarah understood. She'd waited for Sarah to reach safety before making a move herself.

The screeching sound had stopped. Mrs. Bossanova relaxed, though she still looked nervous. She clenched her fists, taking an audible breath, and her lips mouthed the words, One, two, three." With a grunt, she pulled herself up the next rung.

The track snapped.

Mrs. Bossanova's eyes met Sarah's, wide with fear. Then she was gone, her long piercing scream clear above the crash of the collapse, before cutting off with a deafening boom.

The silence gripped Sarah as she peered over the edge into the dizzying chasm. Far, far at the bottom lay a figure, spread-eagled. Sarah wanted to call out, but was afraid to draw any more attention to herself—if the robots weren't already heading over. She sat up and moved away, shivering. Even if Mrs. Bossanova survived, she, Sarah, had the stimpaks, and there was no way to get down there alone.

A long, low wail echoed up from the depths. Sarah shot to the edge again so fast she nearly toppled straight over. Pressing her racing heart to the floor, she peered down and saw the body writhing, heaving with pain.

Sarah squinted around, the dark not posing much of a problem to a ghoul like her. In the distance there was a ladder leading down to the lower floor, but Sarah wasn't sure how to get to it, or how long it would take to work her way around. Below, the strangled anguish was getting louder. Sarah thought about the way Mrs. Bossanova had saved her life in the Battlezone, taking the laserfire for her, and then giving her a stimpak instead of using it for herself.

She made her decision. Gripping tight onto the broken track, Sarah carefully lowered herself, tensing as it swayed ominously before settling. The track continued for a short while before stopping, the braces connecting the missing piece splintered and warped. Sarah glanced around. Across from her was a beam supporting one of the colourful spaceships, just out of arm's reach. She bit her lip. Mrs. Bossanova's gurgled cries were getting louder.

Sarah remembered the feel of the old lady's arms as she'd picked her up and taken her back to Nuka Town. The food she'd given her and how she'd nursed her back to health. The way Mrs. Bossanova shielded her from Gage.

Sarah jumped.

Bang.

The beam knocked the wind out of her and she lost her grip at once, dropping like a stone. Sarah managed to hook her arm at the last second, white-hot agony ripping through her right shoulder. Blind panic directed her, and she seized her right hand with her free one before it slipped away, locking her arms in a hangman's noose around the beam. Her feet swung violently, the tips of her toes brushing against the next foothold, but she held.

Her breath returned in a shrill shriek of terror as she dangled over the hungry void, its yawning maw waiting for her grip to fail. The shooting pains continued, sinking deeper and deeper into her bones, her weight dragging on her useless shoulder—but instead of distracting her, it cleansed her. The panic ebbed, replaced by clarity—she hurt, but there were more important things to deal with.

Sarah looked down. She actually wasn't too far from the beam below. All she needed to do was loosen her grip a little and lower herself enough to get solid footing. She took a deep breath and let her right hand slide away. Pain exploded through her shoulder, dizziness sweeping over her, and she gritted her teeth, biting down her scream.

Her feet rested firmly on the beam.

Sarah let out a sob, moving to grab the metal above with her left hand, letting her right finally drop. She wasn't too sure what the problem was, but she couldn't move that arm. The fear bubbled up from the pit of her stomach, clutching at her throat, her heart hammering against her ribcage. Was she stuck here? Would she ever get down?

No. No. Stay calm. Think. Mrs. Bossanova was depending on her.

Sarah turned her head and assessed her situation. The was a big vertical beam running down the whole structure. If she edged over to that and got a grip of it, she might be able to lower herself, using her left arm to steady herself, while her legs did all the work.

It was risky. But she had no other choice.

Clinging on for dear life, Sarah shuffled shakily to her destination before taking a deep breath and moving her hand from one beam to the other. She made it, pressing her cheek to the rusted metal, her arm wrapped tight as she wheezed, her legs trembling. It took a good five minutes before she felt ready for the next step. Holding the beam firmly, Sarah crouched down, her other arm trailing uselessly and getting in the way, and balanced on her knees. She'd have to let gravity direct her and pray her good arm was strong enough to stop her plummeting.

Three. Two. One.

Sarah dropped, cracking her shin on the level below and nearly letting go of her one lifeline. Somehow she managed to keep her grip and kneeled there, panting, tears in her eyes. She glanced down, the drop making her stomach clench with nausea.

Only four more to go…

On she went, each part of the descent bringing relief and terror in equal measure, until finally she reached the last one. Exhausted, she let herself fall, hitting the dusty floor with a thud, swimming in pain. Somewhere behind her, Mrs. Bossanova was moaning—the sound dragged Sarah from her lull and she staggered up, gripping her satchel and walking unsteadily over to the old woman. Then she stopped dead.

Shattered wasn't the word, but it was the closest Sarah had.

Mrs. Bossanova lay splayed and twitching, her eyes unfocused, one so swollen it was almost shut. Her body was littered with bruises and cuts, her clothes torn and covered with dust. She must have hit something—or several somethings—on the way down to survive the fall. There was a nasty gash on the front of her head, but Sarah's eyes were drawn to a piece of metal embedded in her side, the fabric around it dark. If she knew Sarah was there, she didn't say anything, her eyes glazed, bloodied spit bubbling at her lips.

Sarah took off the bag and set it down. The first time she'd been beaten by the raiders, Mackenzie had injected a stimpak into the base of her skull, where it met the neck. She'd been dizzy, vomiting, but the second Mackenzie did that, it all stopped. A concussion, she'd called it. Sarah had watched her do the same thing to some of the other traders, forcing in the needle with a horrible crunch, over and over until all their medicine ran out.

Sarah took out a stimpak, holding it with a trembling hand. She had no idea what she was doing, but she needed a Mrs. Bossanova who knew where she was. She sat down, lifting Mrs. Bossanova's head and propping it on her knee, just enough so the back of the neck was exposed. Removing the cap with her teeth, she pressed it to the spot she remembered and angled it up towards the skull, the same way Mackenzie did. Then she leaned forward, pinning Mrs. Bossanova's head in place with her chest, and forced the needle through her flesh.

The crunch seemed to reverberate up Sarah's arm, and she gagged, trying not to vomit, Mrs. Bossanova's scream muffled by Sarah. She convulsed and went limp.

Oh no.

Sarah pulled the empty stimpak out and shook her shoulder but got no response. Trembling, she pushed herself away, letting Mrs. Bossanova's head hit the floor with a dull thud.

I killed her!

It was too much. She felt the burning rush of bile and turned away just in time, spewing vomit everywhere. She'd killed her. She'd killed someone. This was different than the grenade—an explosion, far away, where there was the chance of survival. This was direct and by her hand. Beneath the horror came Jack's prediction, rushing towards her faster than she could bear, closely followed by what Gage would do when he found out. All three concepts clashed, leaving her retching, unable to move.

Mrs. Bossanova drew in a deep, ragged breath. "Jesus Christ!"

Sarah screamed.

"Are you ready?"

Sarah nodded, never feeling less ready in her entire life.

"Good," said Mrs. Bossanova, looking equally unprepared. Her pale face glistened with sweat, her shaking hands clamped firmly around the metal shaft sticking out of her body. She shut her eyes, silent for a few seconds. Then the word snapped from her mouth: "Go."

In one sickening movement Mrs. Bossanova wrenched the piece of metal out. Her back arched as she roared in pain, and Sarah pounced. The shirt was whipped up and three stimpaks slammed in together before the metal even hit the floor. Mrs. Bossanova stuffed her fist into her mouth, tears pricking her eyes while the chems did their work. Sarah watched, revolted, as the flesh knitted together, leaving a congealed, oozing mess of a half scabbed, half open wound. The process stopped, and Mrs. Bossanova lay gasping, staring up blankly, the fresh, bloody bite marks in her knuckles already formed into shiny pink scars.

It was some time before she moved, and when she did, Sarah had to help her sit up.

"It'll stop the bleeding for now," she rasped.

Sarah reached into the bag. "We have more—"

"No. I've used too many already. Don't think more will make a difference. Save them for yourself. But…" Mrs. Bossanova shifted where she sat and grunted in pain. When she looked at Sarah again, her eyes were filled with apprehension, and an emotion Sarah couldn't quite place. "I need you to do something. If there was any other way, I'd do it myself. But I can't, so…"

"What is it?"

"As you know, radiation heals ghouls. I had a radiation gun that could have done the job, but…" Mrs. Bossanova sighed, and Sarah remembered her mentioning losing it. "I can't climb out of here myself, so I need you to do something for me. The things we've been collecting. The...what did you call them?"

"Star pieces," said Sarah, unsure what this had to do with radiation and Mrs. Bossanova's injury.

"The star pieces. Right. Remember I told you they control the robots?"

Sarah nodded.

"The big computer in the centre of this place—the Star Control—it's in the name. That's what controls them. Or it did, before the traders took out the pieces. I read it on the log entries I found on their bodies. I'm guessing you saw that too?"

She nodded again. That explained why she'd been poking around the piles of bodies earlier.

"With a certain amount of pieces, I can bring the robots under my command. Originally I just wanted more firepower before I returned to Safari Adventure, but now I think it's the only way we're walking out of here alive. We should have enough, but it's just getting back to the computer and putting them in. Think you can manage it?"

"Well…" Sarah indicated to her useless arm, the shoulder jutting out oddly. It throbbed dully and seemed to flare up the moment it was mentioned. She winced, biting her lip.

"Dislocated? Why didn't you say anything?" Mrs. Bossanova took hold of Sarah's arm before she could ask what dislocated meant, pulling it out and pushing it forward. With a fresh wave of pain, Sarah's arm popped back into place, and she yelled, wrenching herself away from the old woman's grasp.

"Sorry," Mrs. Bossanova said, who had gone a delicate shade of green and was clutching her side again. "Use a stimpak. You've probably got some muscle tearing, but we didn't exactly have a doctor to hand to fix you up safely."

Whimpering a little, Sarah got to her feet, picking up the bag with the star pieces and the stimpaks. She took one out, staring hesitantly at the big needle.

"Want me to do it?" Mrs. Bossanova asked, her tone gentle. Sarah nodded, handing it over and settling down next to her. She flinched as it punctured her skin, but a second later she didn't care. The chill flooded her body and when it left, so did the pain. She moved her arm—it felt a little stiff, but was otherwise just as good.

Sarah got to her feet, seizing the bag again. Mrs. Bossanova's hand shot out, settling on her wrist.

"Are you sure about this?" she asked, and Sarah finally recognised the emotion on her face: worry...worry and guilt.

"I'm sure. No way out, otherwise."

"You could always leave me. Head back to Nuka Town."

Sarah considered this. It was true—she could head back, but the thought hadn't occurred to her until now. Why was Mrs. Bossanova suggesting it? Didn't she want to live? After a moment, Sarah shrugged. "Gage would kill me if you died. Anyway, all I got waiting for me in Nuka Town is more beatings. I'll stay with you, if that's okay."

Mrs. Bossanova blinked, visibly surprised. Then she smiled. "That's fine with me, honey."

Sarah smiled back. She felt odd. Warm. She liked the old lady, even if she was a raider. And Mrs. Bossanova seemed to like her back. It was nice, to be liked. Unfamiliar, but something she could get used to.

"See you soon," Sarah said, heading for the ladder to the upper floors.

A/N: So...guess who has shingles?

I'm laid up in bed at the moment, tripping balls off my medication, in pain, and falling in and out of sleep a lot. I spent most of this weekend asleep as a result. Not allowed to drive and not allowed to go to work either.

Anyway, hope you enjoyed the new chapter.