I reacted quickly, moving towards cover, dragging my last and completely stunned companion along. It was like trying to pull down a tree, the kid was so rooted in place like he didn't want to move. I tossed him behind a bolder and reached for my shotgun. The motion was practically second nature. Any encounter I came across was always shoot first and ask questions later. Although questions would have to come later as our foe wasn't close enough to interrogate.

I know it's a sniper. It dawns on me, at that moment, that we're screwed. Between the two of us, we have the supplies to last for a week or more if lucky, but we're stuck out in the open behind the only cover for a hundred yards. Without knowing exactly where he or she is. I knew snipers were tricky, they could move and take us out from another direction.

To make matters worse, the last of my grunts is freaking out. He started crying, then shaking faster than that of a bloatfly wing. Eyes still wide, the swell of water threatening to break like a dam. I took a deep, grounding breath. For the moment we still have some time. I look at him, his stare is like he's begging for answers. Like he wants me to just tell him what to do. I can't, and I wished I could.

Looking at him now, I could recognize him. He's the one that got knocked out by my scared up fist, when all he wanted was a handshake. I pat his head. He was the youngest person to ever join me. I would say (If I could say it) he's the age I myself was when I started. Inexperienced in battle, green behind the ears they would say. I wiped the accumulating sweat from my face and looked at the kid, I held out my hand.

"Gary," I said firmly. All this time and introducing myself is still the most normal way to say my name out loud to others.

The younger brightens slightly, although still scared and takes my hand, shaking firmly, the vibration still evident in his grip "Nick." He returns, slightly calming. "What do we do?" He finally asks his voice evening out, the slight shake that invaded his whole body including his voice, gaining a little more courage.

I made a deep sigh and glanced around to determine the situation better. The sun still being up made things even worse. It made trying anything difficult the risk of being spotted and shot, higher than I would like. I pointed at the bright glowing orb and made a motion to it, then made the motion of it moving away.

Nick, giving a slightly confused look then finally nods, understanding and relaxes the shaking retreating to a slight spasm of his muscles, knowing that I, his superior, didn't want to do anything yet.

I did, however, want to find out where and how good this sniper is. So after an hour of waiting, I dug through my pack taking out a box of Insta-Mash, and tossed it out of the cover. The box didn't make it far. The sniper was still there and their skill was incredible. Shooting straight through the center of the small yellow and red box, before it got close to hitting the ground. The dry flakes exploded through the air and dispersed with the wind.

The opportunity to sneak a look was small and I couldn't see where the shot came from. I could tell that the sniper was moving in, the sound of the shot was closer, louder. I knew that it wasn't going to be long, before the sniper was at our backs and able to take us out. I wasn't going to scare the kid any worse, I silently said my peace. I just hoped this shooter was good enough to make the shot count and end it quickly.

~-,-~

I took a deep breath leaning against the rock, Nick taking the cue to do the same. It was time to wait and think. There was no reason to stay tense, if it came to a fight, we would end up too sore to move with any form of agility.

This sniper was ridiculously persistent, they must have the ammo to spare too because every half hour they took another shot glancing it from the top of the rock and each shot closer than the last. This person was trying to scare us. It was working on the recruit, I just focused on my last breaths, if these were my last, I wasn't going to go in a panic.

It was coming, I could feel it, the end of this boring game of hide and seek. That gut pulling instinct that never let me down. It was part of the reason I was still alive, all these years. Like an internal radar for danger, the closer it was to me, the tighter the grip around my guts became. I was still calm, only sighing every so often from my thoughts.

Nick was picking up on my behavior but it didn't stop the shaking and sweating, once again showing the fear all over his body. I grabbed his arm causing him to look right at me, I hoped to just hold his attention long enough to distract him from the inevitable outcome and prayed the shooter killed him first before me. I could handle death with ease, I felt I had died long ago, this would just be the final nail, the one to keep my ragged soul from crawling back out. I knew what was coming, wanted to tell him everything was going to be okay but it wasn't and I knew it. I could tell, he saw it in my features; held breath, tense muscles, tight grip on his arm. Cause Nick took in a deep breath, one that steadied him and he prepared for death. Within my years of experience, I realized the shots hadn't come in awhile, it was a calm before the storm.

It seemed like slow motion, even the sound seemed quieter, but it didn't stop the fact that Nick had been shot, in the head, right before my eyes. Whatever was in this gunman's weapon caused the kids head to explode into nothing but bone, brain matter and blood. I had been expecting it, calculating all possibilities of this outcome, waiting for it. I didn't even flinch beyond squinting my eyes to keep the blood from spraying in them, even though it wouldn't. This sniper was right on top of the rock standing over us, Nick was dead and for the first time in about fifteen years, I was scared. This feeling, this moment, it was as if I were back in the vault, kneeling at the closed door, waiting for the death that never came.

"Drop the gun and stand up you merc son-of-a bitch." The voice was male and muffled by a helmet and seemed familiar, to familiar. This entire situation was bringing back a flood of memories that I hadn't thought of in forever. A warm barrel tipping my head to the side. Death, breathing down my neck.

I placed the shotgun in the dirt, the barrel toppling over causing the metal to make a hollow clunking noise against the smaller rocks. Slowly I rose, the smell of burnt black powder on the barrel of the rifle. I made no attempt to turn around until told. Wastelander's and raiders alike, they were all jumpy. There are too many chems so easily available out there, to just make a move and not expect a grim fate.

"So, how much is it up to now? Huh? Three thousand? Five thousand caps?" There was a laugh, it shook me to my core. That laugh, I recognized that fucking laugh. It couldn't be, could it? No one had seen that bastard for years. Now the urge to turn around was stronger than ever. I wanted to, wanted to turn around and rip the helmet off his fucking head and punch him in the face but at the same time I was scared to. No. I refused to jump to that conclusion. "Turn around and answer me you bastard."

Shit, now I had no choice. If I didn't turn, chances were high I'd have an extra hole that god didn't give me in my head or back. Slowly, reluctantly I turned, didn't want to face that demon, my demon. Not yet. Not again. I just hoped he would be satisfied that I turned around and did not remove my goggles. I prayed to whatever god that was left and still listening that the lenses were dark enough. They were wide enough, though, to cover most of my upper face.

There was a long eerie pause. I refused to look up, even refused to follow at the source of my fear as it moved. I was stuck staring at my feet. The only problem with that plan, the person was shorter than me and stood right in front me now looking up. Their face and body covered in a sleek black armor I'd never seen before. They dropped their rifle, it made the same hollow metal clank as his shotgun, and reached up, I instantly froze when contact was made with my eye gear.

I took a deep stuttering breath when those hands reached for the goggles to pull them down, My eyes I had shut tightly the moment contact was made. When a covered thumb brushed that now faint scar from so long ago, the realization, the breath I held had released. I reached up and grabbed him by the wrist. My hand, surprisingly, didn't shake.

"Say it." He simply said quietly as if we were still in that crowded room with the threat of being overheard, the helmet still cloaking that damned voice. That voice that haunted me for months, until I slowly forgot how it sounded, after the last time I heard it. The voice I thought I'd forgotten, that I wouldn't be able to recognize it after so much time had passed. The pitch the tone. How it growled like a feral animal when angry, and cooed like a lover when it wanted something or was controlling the younger me.

I didn't want to. God I didn't want to. So long had I run from that name, those memories, the fear and the pain. Then to spend time chasing after it, hoping to grasp it all one more time in my weak hands and hold it tight. Then finally allowing myself to almost let go, those memories only surfacing every so often like a gust of wind that pulled a pattern of dust that would never be replicated the same way again. My eyes stayed shut tight, I felt that if I were to open them to actually see him, I would crumble to dust and disappear.

"Say it… please?" he sounded vulnerable, scared. That maybe this stranger wasn't who he thought I was or that the, now tall, man before him probably forgot about him. That I had forgotten him.

I turned my grizzled face away, finally opening my eyes to look out into the wasteland past the shorter armor covered man before completely turning away. My eyes searching the vast dead area for answers, something, anything. It spoke less than I did, the wind no different than the breaths I took. I had wondered what I would do, although I didn't think I would turn away. "No." the answer was easy to say. I could swear I heard the heart fall out of my assailants chest and hit the ground, with that simple word.

"Please?" He asked once more, his voice clearer, slightly broken, sad but uncovered.

I began to turn back to him, but hesitated before turning all the way to look him in the face. This time it was my heart that fell. The revealed face hadn't changed a bit, somehow the fucker managed to stay just as young as the last time my eyes glanced upon his. Whereas I became harder, rougher, barely resembling myself or my brothers anymore. Time in the wasteland took a toll on me over the years, the radiation storms, freak acid rain (Thankfully those didn't happen all that often), normal rain, harsh winds that blew hard enough to change the landscape from time to time, the animals and overgrown insects, the water, stray robots and there was even snow... once.

The breath I took felt like I was being strangled, caught in my throat, and made a sharp sound. I looked around again trying to figure out what to do, trying to figure out if this was even real. 'If he is back and hasn't changed he will probably kill me if I don't.' Funny how things work, my thoughts were still the same. 'After all, I'm not the kid he knew anymore.' The mercy wouldn't be there. I'm not young, nor cute, nor someone easily manipulated anymore.

A smaller softer hand took my larger calloused hand snapping me from my thoughts. Looking in those unchanged green eyes, the memories kept flooding back. All the pain. His look though, he looked hurt. My hardened, thought filled expression softened when I recognized that look. It was loneliness. He's been lonely. Alone for who knows how long. That same look graced my own face from every reflective surface I passed. In the Vault, Megaton, Rivet city, even in the Talon camp.

Then with all the strength I could muster, feeling as though I would keel over the second the air left my lungs passed my vocals and across my tongue.

"Hello, Blake."