SwankDoll: Oh, I do. Many wonderful things. :)

Vect the Atoner: Yes, House does have this suave charisma at times. I think he just sometimes lets his ego get away with him from time to time because of his own achievements. And at this time he does view Claire as just an employee and I can imagine he's very direct and unapologetic towards them unless he realizes he needs to take another stance to produce the end result he wants.

FloatOn: Aww. Thanks. And I love Swank, I just don't usually use him in much of my writing so it was nice to let loose with him for a bit.

KatrinaJG: Yeah, for some reason I see a lot of the chairman having some kind of honor code amongst each other. And I've always liked the atmosphere that the Tops has about it, especially the type of people its supposed to represent. I still love the rubber factory comment, top notch. And thank you again for your helpful comment and following message. It made me feel better about my little mistake.

Whatshisface v.2: Glad you're enjoying it. And I totally agree about the npc commentary in the game, but it just feeds some of my courier characters wishes for anonymity. Celebrity isn't all its cracked up to be.

Darkness Diablo: Heh, I thought it might to some, the Swank thing. I'm actually still figuring how Swank is going to play into the equation as the story progresses so its going to be an interesting thing to see, and as for House's reaction to something happening to Claire... Not sure about that either, and hopefully we'll never have to see ;) but if it does I have a feeling I'd feel very, very bad for the idiot who messed with her. Because, of course, you don't trifle with House's property.

TrippyFalls: Well, I'm happy to be your first. ;) And thanks. I find it a very rare circumstance where its ok for two characters to automatically be all into each other. House doesn't seem like the lovey dovey type (even if he was completely in love with someone). I just don't think he knows how to show certain emotions in an orthodox way. I think it would take a certain kind of person to be able to have the patience to figure him out and see through his subtle affections. As for the anonymous messages, I find it very true in real life that many people find it easier to let their guard down when not face to face with someone, especially when pretending to be someone else. I think House could have benefited from our modern internet because it just seems to me (opinion) that while people in his time appreciated his brilliance, that those he did allow to see his odd inner personality didn't get him or want to. And rawr. I'm beginning to ramble. Lol. But lastly, about Claire, I find her being relatable and unperfect a high compliment. The whole point of a story for me are for characters to grow and learn. You can't do that is they start out perfect.

KenzieGirl: I'm very happy you're liking this story. An speaking of new chapters:

A Terminal Affair

4

The Lucky 38 was silent. It was usually silent, especially when the courier was gone on one of her special missions, but it was a different kind of quiet once House knew that Claire was back in town and she wasn't there. Unlike how most of the Mojave probably pictured her he knew her to be more of a homebody, placing her adventuresome façade on the shelf while she was on the Strip. House didn't know why the fact the usually anti-social girl was now out at the Tops irked him, but it did. Maybe it was because he didn't want her to get lost in the sparkling lights and forget why she was there, maybe it was because she was in the very place that spawned a betrayer (despite the fact the rest of the Chairmen seemed trustworthy enough), or maybe it was something else, something he hadn't considered.

Meanwhile he tried to distract himself by rereading Claire's message and determining what his would be. He found it harder to not answer back what he would have said to her instead of what the heretofore anonymous stranger would say. "He never thinks I'm ever working hard or fast enough." She had said. He wanted to point out that in a way she really wasn't working as fast as she could have been. Claire constantly stopped to do every little good deed possible on her way to whatever job he had sent her to do resulting in the job taking days more than it should have. However, her sympathetic new confidante would not say such things as "maybe he's right, if you think about it…" And he hoped to high heaven that she did "manage" to deal with him or the rest of the world could just kiss their post-apocalyptic asses goodbye in lieu of a new dark age of humanity. He really believed that, and if she didn't then she was a fool.

The only thing he found truly fascinating was her insistence that she was a boring individual. Irritating? Yes. Hardheaded? Yes. Small-minded (as he'd thought before)? Yes. Boring? Absolutely not. The woman who had looked Death in the face and said "No thanks, maybe later" was attempting to downplay her whole experience. If she had been nothing special he would have never invited her to the Strip, and he definitely would not have allowed her to step foot inside the Lucky 38 where he had refused to let another soul for over 200 years. Whether she saw it or not she was not normal or boring. Such wasted potential. He thought, placing the finishing touches on his reply. Perhaps she was just trying to be modest or hide her identity. There was always the option, that being a woman, she was playing coy, although that didn't seem to fit her too well either. He frowned and went over his words one last time.

From: (Blocked Location)

To: Terminal 292-A

Subject: re:Hello?

Boring? You must be jesting with me. Anyone who is capable of randomly sending out a personal message in a time of particular vulnerability to strangers can't be all that boring. Then again perhaps that is just my opinion, but I will make that opinion be known. I, on the other hand, have to admit that I probably am truly the boring one between the two of us. Because of the highly sensitive specifics I can't tell you the exact job I perform but I do work closely with the collection and cataloguing of pre-war knowledge and technologies, which explains my constant access to the computer that I am currently using in case you are wondering. Yes, it sounds pretty exciting but I promise it is not. Dig through dust. Find something interesting. Get excited. Lather, rinse, repeat. After a while the tedium of it all overshadows even the most amazing discoveries. So trust me, when you offer a chance for some kind of outside contact to break through this monotony I am more than willing to accept!

Also, about your boss? Don't let him get to you. I'm sure he's just doing what all bosses do, which is keep some kind of order among his employees. I sincerely hope he meant his apology to you – and although you may think he didn't he might very well have. That, of course, is up to you to decide on your own. I have no knowledge of who you work for or his methods. You know whether his word can be trusted or not. What do you believe? You have stated you don't think he is a bad man. If you can trust your own judgment about him then I'd say follow that.

Parts of the message seemed choppy. He wasn't particularly proud of it, but it wasn't like he was writing a novel. Rather, it was more realistic that a normal man working in this world's wastes wouldn't worry with going through multiple versions of a simple note. So after revisions and re-revisions House decided to with one of the more poorly written versions and sent it on so that it would be waiting for her in her inbox when she returned home. Whenever that would be.

XXX

Claire stumbled through the gate sometime after midnight. No one seemed to notice another disheveled Strip inhabitant, being lost in their own neon-signed worlds of sex and booze. It hadn't even been twenty minutes since she had woken up in the Tops, curled beneath the wrinkled sheets and the familiar, warm weight of the head Chairman's arm draped over her. The day had been filled with music and laughter, but had inevitably led to a candlelit dinner for two up in Swank's room, proving once more he sure did know how to treat the ladies. The night ended with clothes thrown over furniture and strewn sporadically across his floor. The long days spent traipsing the wastes dissolved away amidst hours of pleasure-induced amnesia. She could forget herself in his embrace, was comforted by their closeness.

The problem was that the feeling, like any drug, was fleeting and returned with a vengeance when everything was over. It wasn't guilt that caused her to leave him while he slept, oh no, because there was no need to regret something that had happened between two mature adults, but something deeper and harder to explain. Claire tried to brush it off as discomfort at waking up in a place other than her own bed, which was silly if she thought harder on the subject because she spent days on end in bedrolls and old mattresses left behind by dead people. Sleeping in a comfortable bed next to Swank should have been no problem, but for some reason it was. So she left a note on his side table telling him thanks for the great evening and grabbed her clothes on the way downstairs.

She passed a drunken NCR soldier and narrowly avoided having her toes stepped on as she dodged out of the way. Her heels dangled from her loosely crooked fingers, for she hadn't bothered to even put them back on when she left, so they would have been useless in protecting feet. Not that they helped much when she did wear them. They were more a menace for her feet than anything, mainly because it only took a few hours on them before the shoes began rubbing her skin raw. Glitz and glamour were definitely strangers to her and she was big enough to admit it. Pausing at the bottom of the steps to the Lucky 38 she rubbed the burning soles of her feet again and noticed with displeasure a few blisters that were popping up. A long soak in the tub for them seemed to be in order, and would likely be necessary if she was going to put her boots back on without wincing in pain. Traveling would be Hell for the next few days.

"Ex-excuse me?" The voice was feminine, and very timid, as if the owner was not used to speaking up or being confrontational. At first Claire didn't even notice it as she started up the steps again, being given no reason to believe that it was aimed at her until it raised a few notches, "uhm, excuse me, you're the Courier, aren't you?"

Yes, she was being spoken to, and at the most inconvenient time. She wanted to get off her feet, her dress was wrinkled, and her usually straight brown hair was likely a bug chocolate-colored nest of kinks. "I am." She turned her head towards the speaker. It was a woman sporting a labcoat and a smudged pair of glasses that seemed altogether too big for her face. Claire would bet her suite inside that she was a member of the Followers of the Apocalypse. She had spent enough time around them to just be able to pick out their kind. "You are?"

"Oh, uh, Emily Ortal. I'm with the Followers—"

Bingo!

"—and I was wondering if you could help me out with something."

XXX

He should have expected something like this. He remembered the first time the Followers of the Apocalypse had tried to access his network. It hadn't even taken a full minute to fry their equipment through the connection that they had provided, not realizing that a door in was also a door out. Really, who did they think that they were dealing with? He was the founder of RobCo. Technology was his specialty. It had been a laughable attempt, and one he had viewed more as a slight annoyance rather than any real sort of threat. After that they had laid off their attempts. Maybe they had decided to give up all together, or maybe they had just been biding their time.

House wouldn't disagree that the Followers were an extraordinary group of individuals. Their ideas about bringing knowledge and aid to the wastes were admirable, if not misspent. The people of the Mojave wasteland did not appreciate, care, nor have the capacity to truly understand that which the Followers were attempting to do. This was a fact that House had foreseen. Most wastelanders weren't ready for civilization again, and he refused to waste both his and the Followers time. He hadn't shared his wealth of knowledge, or even allowed a dialogue to open between himself and the Followers. That would have just given them some kind of false hope and distract them from their more important endeavors.

At this step in his plans he was more concerned for the well-being and growth of the Strip, but he knew that the Followers work would one day make his future plans easier. Mankind would need people to show them the way back to stability. Just… not yet. However, the Followers wouldn't have the same foresight, and even if they did they were stubborn and determined to try to make a difference now. So they had persisted. And if it had been the second option of biding their time that they had been waiting for, then their patience had paid off. Their chance had finally arrived.

Emily's curiosity matched his own. Would Claire accept the deal she was offering, or would she turn Emily down? Either way, House wasn't sure it mattered.

XXX

"Wait, you want me to bug House's network?" Claire wanted to laugh, but she was too damned exhausted. Her hand lifted to her temples and massaged them, already hating where this conversation was going and her skull agreed it sounded like a major headache.

Emily stumbled over a few unintelligible words, trying to find a way to explain the situation in a way that it wouldn't sound so bad. Claire didn't think that was possible. "I know how this seems, but of all people I'm sure you know how secretive House is. We've already tried to remotely access his records but we were… unsuccessful."

"So you've already tried to do this and failed, and now you're back at it. Has it occurred to you that maybe House doesn't want to share what he has at this time?" Claire really hated to say something like that. More than anything she would like to do something that would turn around life in the wastes, make it a better place for its inhabitants. Mr. House was a genius and it didn't take another from surmising that he probably had an invaluable collection of information stored away that could do that. Yet again maybe everyone was just putting him up on this big pedestal and was making assumptions. Maybe the real reason he didn't make contact was because he himself didn't know the information they wanted. She didn't see how she should risk her position with him over assumptions.

"Please. He won't talk to anyone. We've tried countless times to communicate and we can't. Nobody has – except for you. You're the only way. Imagine the medical advancements alone!"

"I can't. I'm sorry."

"No, wait!" Emily caught her arm as she tried to leave. "You can't just ignore this. People are hurting out there and they need this. Its not like we're going to be breaking into anything personal, just any kind of research data that might be helpful."

…that might be helpful? There was that uncertainty again. Doubt wasn't just in Claire's head but Emily's, too. "Look at it from my perspective for a moment, all right? You want me to go in there and install some device I don't know shit about into the computer system of the man who has, probably against his better judgment, allowed me to stay in his home, has paid all my expenses, and is even – I suspect – the very reason I am still alive instead of rotting in some unmarked grave somewhere. All of this over information that you're not even sure is even there. Why should I do that? I'm sorry, but I won't."

"So its no, just like that." Ortal's eyes darkened a little. "You're just not even going try to help because you're afraid. How can you be so selfish?"

Claire liked the Followers. They had done plenty of awesome things and were continuing to do so, but when faced with this woman and her twisted logic she was flabbergasted. "You're the one who comes up here and asks me to spy on my boss, like some… some rat! And then you dare to call me the selfish one?" Emily acted like House was some villain that had a miracle cure that could fix the world but just kept it for the fun of it. Claire had lived her life in different states of poverty, so she understood how sometimes the man on top didn't deserve what he had and that sometimes you just had to take what you needed to survive. This wasn't one of those times, she felt that truly in her heart. Now she was wondering if this shit was the reason that he refused to talk to anyone, because he knew they'd pull this. Fuck, am I actually starting to sympathize with him on the entire hermit thing? "This conversation is over."

The courier was already halfway to the door when Emily called out to her again, this time defeat dragging down her tone. "I'm sorry… just please at least think about it."

"Fine. I'll think about it. I'll even talk to House for you. Just don't get your hopes up." Especially after insulting me. It was petty and she knew that. It didn't stop her from considering her original decision to being the right one. Maybe House was doing the wrong thing by keeping the information to himself, but Emily was definitely wrong by just wanting to take it so underhandedly. She was acting like he was obligated to just hand it over. He wasn't. And Daddy always said two wrongs never make a right. "Oh, and for the record, don't ever call me a coward again or I'll show you just how unafraid I can be."

XXX

Emily Ortal had come to the Strip looking for who she thought was going to be her Robin Hood. Instead she had found what was closer to the evil Sheriff of Nottingham. From the expression on Claire's face as she slumped to a sitting position just inside the doors of the Lucky 38 she was as disappointed with the situation as the Follower was. And House watched her curiously, for the heroine of the Mojave had just chosen the needs of the one over the needs of the many, or at least, he knew, that was the way she was seeing it. He wondered why.

Well, not exactly the chapter I had in mind when I started writing it, but after thinking about it I found Emily's request an important trial for Claire. I had to rewrite it twice so I hope it came out all right. Sometimes when I rewrite things flow kind of funny.