Tatum opened her eyes, the sun was just beginning to rise. Her body bounced lightly each time Nick took a step.

"Nick?!" As she came to her senses she wiggled in his arms.

"Ah, so you're awake." He gave her a kind smile.

"You're still carrying me!" She flailed, embarrassed, and his grip tightened.

"You were so tired, you just fell asleep in my arms. I thought about settling down for the night but then I figured that would wake you, so I kept walking." He explained. "It's not like I sleep or eat or anything like that."

"You're not even a little tired?"

"No, not at all." He gave her a wink.

Tatum huffed. "I don't get it." She crossed her arms over her chest. "Even after I told you I was with the Brotherhood of Steel, you still insist on helping me."

"That's because you're not really one of those blinded elitists. You were taken there and held against your will. All they did was kidnap you. I'm still not sure why, though."

"Me either." She said sadly with a sigh. "I thought maybe… Elder Maxson…" Her heart ached as she thought of the man that had torn it apart. No matter how hard she tried, she could not forget how kind he was to her the night he shared his bed with her. His kiss had been so gentle, and his hand warm as she held it until sleep overcame her.

Tatum closed her eyes as she laid still in Nick's arms, fighting her feelings. She knew that she would never see Elder Arthur Maxson again, and that it was her choice to leave, but deep down she knew she would always miss him. Stop being stupid. She scolded herself. Maxson is a jerk. He's mean and abusive. She recalled the last time she had seen him, it felt like it was so long ago. He had forced her against a wall and then threw her to the ground. Stop! She ordered herself as a tear slid down her cheek.

"Are we almost there?" She asked Nick, desperate to think about anything but Elder Maxson.

"Yeah, it's just up ahead." If Nick saw the tears that poured down Tatum's face, he ignored it. She was eternally grateful for that.

They had arrived in Goodneighbor a couple hours ago. Nick introduced her to Mayor Hancock, a ghoul in an old red military uniform. He seemed like a decent guy, maybe a little shady but so was the rest of the town. After meeting with the Mayor, and being welcomed in to Goodneighbor, Nick took her to the Memory Den. He had talked with an older blond woman who was lounging on a couch. He had introduced Tatum to Irma and convinced her to let Tatum stay with her.

Tatum would clean the Den in exchange for room and board. It was an acceptable arrangement, but it left the young girl without any income. She would need to find other odd jobs in order to earn some caps.

After Nick had made all the arrangements for Tatum he said his goodbyes and left her to her new life. She was sad to see him go but she understood why he left so quickly. He had been right, this town wasn't safe. It gave off an aura of sin. And even though Mayor Hancock allowed Nick in to Goodneighbor, the residents still watched him cautiously.

"Tatum." Irma called from her couch and Tatum took a deep breath as she pulled her hair back in to a ponytail. She had been given a room on the upper floor and had tended to her wounds. Her arm, where the bullet had grazed her, stung as she rubbed some ointment on it, but it was her ankle that concerned her the most. Even after having a stimpak on it for several hours, it was still an angry red color and swollen. She had taken several test steps to see how much pressure she could put on it, it wasn't much.

Slowly and carefully she limped through the short hallway and down the wooden stairs to the main floor. She used the wall and her walking stick to hobble over to Irma. The woman in the red dress was still perched on her couch.

"What am I going to do with you?" She asked exasperated. "You can barely walk. How are you supposed to clean?"

"Please, just give me a few days and then I'll do whatever you want." Tatum pleaded, not eager to lose another home.

"That's a dangerous thing to say, dear. You best mind your tongue or someone will take advantage of you." She cautioned Tatum. She knew Irma was right, Goodneighbor was exactly the kind of place where your words could cause you a lot of trouble. "My, my." Irma said, craning her neck to see behind Tatum. "If it isn't our generous Mayor." Tatum turned to see Hancock walking towards them with a pair of crutches in his hands.

"I just thought I'd give our newest friend a little gift." He held them out to her and Tatum graciously took the aluminum crutches. "They were lying around at home and I figured it'd be better to let someone that needed them, use them, than have 'em sit around and collect dust."

"Thank you very much Mayor."

"Call me Hancock, we're all friends here." His voice was raspy but not fully like a ghouls'.

"Ohh," Irma pouted. "You're not here to see me?" Tatum adjusted the crutches to the proper height as Irma shamelessly flirted with Hancock. He teased back and the two giggled happily. This place is either going to be great, or kill me. Tatum had a sinking feeling in her stomach but hoped it was only from lack of food.

"Whoa." Hancock chuckled as Tatum's stomach growled. "That Nick…" He shook his head. "He's been starving ya, hasn't he?" He laughed again. "It's 'cause he don't eat. He tends to forget that everyone else does."

"Don't you worry about her, Hancock. She'll get plenty to eat while she's here." Irma cooed and the Mayor gave her a wink. It was strange to see everyone getting along so well, most people, even if they liked ghouls, would never flirt with one. Although that may have just been Irma's personality because Nick had flirted with her a little too.

An idea struck Tatum. A woman like Irma had to have had several relationships, she probably was very knowledgeable. What's the point? Tatum frowned. Elder Maxson and she were never going to see each other again. But maybe she has advice for forgetting about him. She sighed inwardly and turned her attention back to the mayor who had just excused himself.

"Thank you very much, for everything." Tatum said as she bowed her head humbly.

"No problem, kid." He said with a wide smile. "I'm sure we're going to be good friends in no time." He gave her a wave and left. Tatum stared after him until the turned the corner and she could no longer see him. Friends? She repeated to herself. For some reason, she was starting to feel worried again.

"Tatum." Irma called her name and she turned to face her. "There is food through that door, help yourself and then get some rest." She smiled kindly at Tatum and pointed towards a door.

"I will, thank you." She used the crutches and silently thanked Hancock again. It was such a relief to be off of her foot. She entered the kitchen and ate until she was full then she carefully ascended the stairs back to her room.

A couple weeks passed as Tatum recovered and started working full time for the Memory Den. She would clean the memory loungers before and after every guest. She dusted the lamps, tables, and everything she could reach. The floors were swept and the place looked cleaner than it ever had. After getting the building to a nice clean state, the upkeep was simple and didn't take long. She would spot clean whatever needed it, and then she would head out in to the town.

Tatum picked up odd jobs here and there to make some caps. Most the time it was delivering something to another resident or somewhere just outside of town. She never strayed too far, she knew she wasn't a fighter. Mayor Hancock had her run a couple errands for him as well, mostly to pick up his drugs from the local dealers.

Overall, her life was alright. She missed her family, missed Elder Maxson and a couple of the Brotherhood members, but she was making new friends. Irma and Doctor Amari were nice ladies, they could be strict every once and a while but Tatum didn't mind. Kent, who practically lived at the Den was also very nice. She would spend hours at a time with him as they listened to the radio together.

With the caps she had made, Tatum sold her mostly broken 10mm pistol and purchased a better one and more ammo. She hid it in her room most of the time until she needed to take care of business outside of the town.

The residents of Goodneighbor were generally friendly towards her, and she was friendly to them. The ghouls, which was the majority of the inhabitants, were cold towards her at first but after learning that she had lived with a ghoul family for a couple years, they put their guard down and would greet her kindly as she passed.

One day, about three weeks after she had moved in to Good Neighbor, there was an explosion. It was big enough that it shook the ground and caused some panic. Everyone had run around the town, searching for their loved ones and safety. Hancock stepped out on to his balcony where he often addressed the town, and tried to keep everyone calm. A couple days after the explosion, which luckily didn't cause any major damage to the town, Hancock called a meeting.

Everyone gathered around under his balcony and looked up at their Mayor. He cleared his throat before he spoke. "Friends," He said. "I have gotten word that the Institute is no more." The entire crowd simultaneously started talking. Hancock shouted to get everyone's attention. "The Brotherhood of Steel is claiming that they are responsible for their destruction."

Tatum gasped, as well as a couple other people. He actually did it? She knew she shouldn't be surprised, Maxson was a strong leader and he always seemed to accomplish what he set out to do. But… Tatum thought about the Institute and all the synths that had been killed. And what about everyone else? She didn't know if the facility was operated by synths or people. What if they were regular people, just like me? She grimaced as she thought of all the potential lives lost.

"Just because the Institute is gone, don't rest easy." Hancock's warning interrupted Tatum's thoughts. "Who knows how many synths are still around?" The crowd looked nervous. "But don't fear, we will stand strong, like we always do. Goodneighbor!" He yelled.

"Of the people! For the people!" The crowd chanted along with Hancock.

The next several days were filled with talk about the Institute and the Brotherhood of Steel. Tatum tried to leave the Memory Den as little as possible, she didn't want to hear it. She visited Kent more often and listened to the Silver Shroud almost all day and night until Irma intervened.

"Tatum, dear." She said, stopping Tatum in her tracks. She turned to look at the older woman that was resting on her couch, Tatum's hand frozen mid-reach for Kent's door.

"Yes?"

"Come here, I want to talk to you." Irma patted the couch cushion in front of her body and Tatum walked over. "Dr. Amari is worried about you." She said when she saw that Tatum wasn't going to sit with her. "She says you're depressed. Is it true?"

"No." Tatum said firmly. It was true that she was feeling a little confused at the moment. On one hand she was still angry at Elder Maxson for not being the man that she thought he was, but on the other hand, a part of her still cared for him and was happy that he had accomplished his goals.

"Hmm." Irma hummed as she looked at the girl in front of her. "Alright then, if you're not depressed, then what's the matter?" Tatum shook her head with a shrug to show that nothing was wrong and that she didn't know why Irma was asking.

"I'm fine." She gave Irma a smile; it was more difficult than she thought. "Kent is waiting for me…" She spoke softly.

"Very well." Irma sighed. "But Tatum, promise me that you'll go out and get some fresh air tomorrow. You've been cooped up in here for days."

"Ok." Tatum tried not to sigh. "I promise."

Arthur Maxson's bare chest raised and fell as his head swam. He laid in bed, eyes closed, clutching a bottle of whiskey. His body felt warm despite the cold metal interior of the Prydwen. He brought the bottle to his lips and tipped it to let the last drop of alcohol slide out of the bottle. He knew it was empty but stubbornly tried to get more from it. With a heavy sigh he lightly dropped the bottle to the floor.

The Brotherhood had celebrated the destruction of the Institute for the past several days. Maxson, however, did not. He still had more responsibilities to tend to and the problems aboard his ship seemed to never end. There were still crates of supplies missing from the logistics division, the Minutemen were thriving better than ever before and still needed investigating, Scribe Neriah's mole rats had escaped during a cleaning and gotten in to all the food reserves on the ship, and perhaps the most heinous crime, Maxson was out of alcohol.

He slowly rolled himself on to his side, his back to the wall and his eyes desperately trying to focus on the room in front of him. The spicy liquid had made his senses numb and his vision blur but he didn't mind. The Institute was gone, no one could stop them now.

His arm hung limply over the side of the bed as he listened to the purr of the engine and the footsteps of his crew. The sun was still up and there was lots of work to be done but Arthur decided to give himself a "sick day". He even went as far as telling Knight Captain Cade that he wasn't feeling well and needed rest. The doctor, of course, wanted to give him a checkup but Maxson had refused, saying that he just needed some time alone.

What he didn't tell Cade was that he really needed alcohol, not rest. He had meant to savor his last bottle but ended up drinking it quickly. His stomach rumbled and he threw a hand over his mouth, suppressing the feeling of being sick all over the floor. He took slow, deep breaths to calm himself as the room liquefied in front of his eyes. He closed them again and rested. With his eyes closed it felt like the Prydwen was on the water and not in the air.

Maxson's mind wandered, imagining what it was like to be a pirate captain, commanding a group of dastardly, scurvy-ridden pirates. He chuckled to himself, it had been ages since he imagined something so silly. He tried to remember the last time he had had such childish thoughts but he couldn't recall. Has it really been that long? He thought as a wave of sadness washed over him. His childhood had been stolen from him when his father died and his mother sent him to join the Brotherhood. He didn't regret it, of course, the Brotherhood was everything to him. It was his birth-right even.

Deep down, however, Arthur did feel like he had missed out on something by joining. Something he would never get back. Innocence. Bloodshot eyes opened slowly as his body longed for the warm, soft touch of Tatum's hands. Maxson knew that his own innocence was long gone, never to be found again. But Tatum, she was the next best thing. Her long wavy hair and tiny body, short enough to be mistaken for a child. Her wide eyes, full of wonder and youth and her beautiful untainted smile. He sighed loudly, feeling empty inside.

The truth was that he missed her more than his own parents. The realization of that fact had sent him in to a spiraling depression. How could I feel more attached to a girl I had only known for a little while, more than my own parents? Maxson felt like he was going crazy. Every time he closed his eyes he saw her face. The only time her face didn't appear was when he was drunk, then it would be like a blurry glimmer of light in the corner of his mind. He hated the feeling he got every day when he thought about how they had parted. He regretted being so mean to her, he knew that the anger he had felt towards her was not from the things she was saying but from the fact that she wanted to leave him.

His whole life had been one big sob story that he desperately tried to ignore. His Father was the first to leave him, then his mother. He had made several friends in the Brotherhood but they too had left him, killed in action. The Lone Wanderer, a man he had idolized, left him too. The Wanderer was alive, as far as Maxson knew, but he had left the Brotherhood and traveled west. Elder Lyons died not long after and was succeed by his daughter Sarah. Arthur had grown to respect the Lyons family with and unwavering loyalty but they both died eventually and left the Brotherhood to him.

Since becoming Elder, he had lost countless numbers of troops. Good men and women that put their lives on the line every day for the Brotherhood and Maxson's vision. He had learned long ago to not weep over every death or he would have drowned himself in his own tears.

And now, the one girl that had been a shining light in the darkness of his life, hated him and left like all the others. Maxson moaned as he rolled on to his back, his eyes still firmly closed. Absent-mindedly he ran his hand over his chest and down his stomach where four long scars decorated his body. He thought back to the day he had received the scars and felt tears prickling at his eyes.

"Damn it." He mumbled and threw his arm across his face. He hated himself for what he had put her through, what he was always putting her through. He remembered how scared he had been when he saw his first Deathclaw. Her scream echoed in his mind. She had been terrified, and it was entirely his fault that she was in that situation. He groaned. He was always using fear and intimidation to get his points across.

If I was a real leader I wouldn't have to do that. The alcohol fueled his self-loathing. If I was a real leader she would have wanted to stay. He pounded his fist against the mattress. All I ever did was hurt her and scare her. He swallowed hard to keep the tears from coming. He was the Elder of this Brotherhood chapter and he would not be defeated by his emotions and feelings for an ignorant and naïve little girl.

He let a sigh out as he relaxed his body that had become tense. It was true that one of the things he liked about Tatum was how innocent she was, and that had been what initially convinced him to invite her to stay with the Brotherhood. The other thing that he noticed immediately was her facial expression when she was brought before him. Despair was obviously the dominant expression but there was something else, something that maybe even Tatum hadn't realized was there. In her eyes burned a fiery passion to live.

The look in her eyes was something that Maxson had come to learn was one of the traits that all his best soldiers had. He thought, with some guidance, Tatum would become a great member of the Brotherhood. He had treated her the same way he would treat any other soldier, with fear and intimidation, however, that was not how he wanted to treat her. He never considered himself a gentle man, but he felt like he wanted to be, with her.

At first he only saw her as a child; lost, like he used to be. Then something changed and he started to notice that she was actually an adult, only one year younger than himself. He started to notice the way her old t-shirt was tight around her chest, the way it hugged her waist and the way her jeans fit her hips. Her skin was soft and her hair was shiny and long. He loved the waves in her hair and the way it bounced as she walked. The women he had grown up with all had short hair and in contrast, her hair was the prettiest he had ever seen.

He let out another sigh, feeling sick to his stomach that he was being so emotional over something so unimportant. He had other priorities to attend to but instead he drank himself stupid and wasted away in his room. If he ever saw her again, he swore to himself that he would apologize for the way he had treated her. After a considerable amount of thought, he deemed his behavior to be inappropriate and unfair. Tatum was not one of his soldiers and he had no right to treat her the way he did. He had forced her to live on the Prydwen and to join the Brotherhood by making her an initiate. No one was ever forced to join, they always volunteered.

A loud knock on his door made the Elder flinch. He lowered his arm and looked towards the sound. I thought I told Cade that I didn't want to be disturbed. He thought angrily as he pushed himself up on his bed. He carefully swung his legs over the side and sat facing the door. "Enter." He said, his voice hoarse.

"Sir." Sentinel Nina opened the door and took a step inside. She took one look at Maxson's drunk and half undressed state and frowned. "We need to talk."

For the past three days Tatum had taken Irma's advice and started to leave the Memory Den again. She even picked back up on her side jobs. It was on one of those jobs that she had encountered the most terrifying thing she had seen since the Deathclaws in the Vault.

Mayor Hancock had sent her to check out a building that had been brought to his attention. Her job was to just take a look and find out what was going on. He made it very clear that she was not supposed to engage any of the raiders or anyone else that she saw. It was supposed to be a quick in and out. That ended up not being the case.

The journey to Pickman Gallery was easy, she didn't run in to hardly anything that wanted to kill her. Just as she was feeling pretty good about her mission, she found several raider corpses littering the ground outside the building that she was supposed to investigate.

"Crap." She whispered and ducked around a corner. She peered around the edge and held her gun at the ready. None of the bodies moved and nothing came out of the building. She took a deep breath, cursed Hancock for sending her here, and advanced. Quietly she opened the door and stepped inside. A couple raiders were down the hall from her, yelling and pounding on the walls. She crouched down and tried to make herself as small as she could and kept to the shadows.

Eventually the raiders moved on and she was alone. The room to the left of the entrance was wide open and the scent of blood and corpses filled the air. She covered her mouth and nose with the back of her wrist as she slowly came in to the room.

Corpses decorated the room. Body parts were strategically placed throughout as if they were all part of an elaborate and beautiful sculpture. But it was not beautiful, it was bloody and smelled awful. She held her breath as best she could, fighting the urge to vomit. Desperate to not look at the horror that surrounded her, she raised her eyes and saw that there were several paintings on the walls. They were almost as disturbing as the body sculpture.

The smell was getting to her and she gagged, coughing loudly. She frantically looked around and prayed that no one had heard her. As she looked around she say a calling card laid on one of the bodies. She quickly grabbed it and left the building. As soon as she got outside she leaned over and let the contents of her stomach spill on the ground. After catching her breath she moved away from the building and hid in one across from it. The card was for Pickman gallery, it had a red heart on it.

"What a psycho!" She cried louder than she meant to. Her hand slapped against her mouth as she listened to the silence around her. She waited but it didn't seem like anyone had heard her. A sigh of relief breathed from her mouth as she shoved the card in to her pocket and left the building. Time to go home. She thought as she rechecked the ammo in her gun for the fifth time today.

She walked along the road and tried not to think about what she had just seen. The scent of death still lingered on her clothes and the bile rose in her throat. She swallowed as a shiver went down her spine; she would have nightmares for weeks. Of course, she already had bad dreams almost every night, nothing had changed. Raiders, Supermutants, Deathclaws, and now corpse art would forever haunt her.

"Hope it was worth it." She complained. "Stupid Hancock… he should have gone himself." She felt like she should be outraged but for some reason, she wasn't. All the corpses, the random body parts, the blood, and the strange paintings weren't the scariest thing she had seen in her life. Her own father had been stuck on a pole, Rachelle and Derrell were turned in to tiny bits from the minigun that shot them, and paintings were nothing compared to a Deathclaw.

Really, it was the smell that got to her. A smell that she knew she would never get used to and had no desire to either. Her stomach churned and she had to stop walking, her hand steadying herself against a wall. She closed her eyes and took several breaths. After a couple dry-heaves she continued home, cursing Hancock for sending her.

Tatum turned the corner and ran in to a large, muscled body. The force of the impact made her fall, landing on her butt. She looked up at the green giant as he looked down at her.

"Sneaky little bleeder!" The Supermutant yelled as he aimed his assault rifle at her. Everything seemed to move in slow motion as Tatum watched the mutant raise his gun. She wanted to scream, to close her eyes and faint but her body moved without permission. She threw herself to the side, rolling on the ground as bullets cracked the cement where she had been sitting.

Her body kicked in to autopilot as she got to her feet and ran with all her strength away from the mutant. Bullets flew around her body, one pierced through her left shoulder but she didn't stop running. Another couple bullets hit a window nearby. She recklessly threw herself through the window, glass shattering all around her.

As Tatum landed, she cried out in pain, pieces of glass stuck in her body and her shoulder bleeding profusely. Tears spilled from her eyes but she didn't have a moment to wipe them. She hopped up and continued to run from the mutant that was chasing her. Bullets shot through the broken walls like it was paper. The amount of bullets told her that she was now being hunted by several mutants. She could hear them yelling at her but couldn't focus on what they were saying, she didn't care.

Tatum kept a tight grip on her pistol, she knew that it would take more bullets than she had to kill all of her pursuers, but she knew she would only need one for herself if the situation arose. She would rather put a bullet in her own head than fall victim to the mutants. She had seen the gore bags that they keep, and she didn't want to be in one of them.

The only advantage that Tatum had against her mutant enemies was that she was small. She easily slipped through cracks and holes in the walls that the others could not. She managed to get a decent amount of distance between them before she slowed her run. Supermutants weren't known for being intelligent and Tatum thought that if she found a decent place to hide, she might actually be able to trick them.

The mutants were out of sight, lost within the apartment building and Tatum took a moment to crawl in to a closet. She closed the door behind her and tried to quiet her breathing. Her back was pressed against the side wall and she peeked through the slats in the door. Luckily she hadn't left a blood trail behind.

"Where'd you go?" One of the Supermutants yelled angrily. From the sound of it, he was in the hallway just outside of the room Tatum was in. She closed her eyes and prayed that he wouldn't find her. Her eyes shot open when she heard his heavy footsteps enter the room. She turned her head to look through the slats. The mutant kicked the bed, flipping it over. Thank God I didn't hide there. She thought as he aimed his gun at the floor where the bed had been. Seeing that no one was under the bed, he groaned and called out for her again.

She watched as he searched the room and her heart stopped when his yellowed eyes landed on the closet door. No, no, no, no… She brought her gun forward and held it up to her chest, ready to shoot. He approached the door and stopped less than a foot away. She didn't want to have to shoot, it would alert the rest of them to her position, but she didn't see any other choice.

Tatum didn't wait for him to open the door, she unloaded an entire clip in to her enemy and kicked the door open when she was out of bullets. The mutant fell over dead, as she ran past him. She loaded a new clip in to her pistol and sprinted through the halls as the other mutants screamed and charged after her. Again, bullets flew everywhere. She was hit in the right shoulder blade and in her right calf. Her leg gave out and she fell to the ground. She cursed as her gun flew from her hand and the hard floor kissed her face.

"Ahahaha! Gotcha!" The Supermutant cheered as he unclipped a grenade from his belt. He pulled the pin and casually tossed it at Tatum. It rolled up next to her and she scrambled to get to her feet but her shoulders and leg weren't cooperating. She screamed and closed her eyes as light and heat swallowed her.