They were close now. He could see the hazy of the rising morning fires of Megaton over the ridge. If he was not mistaken, they would see Megaton from the top of it. He looked back to Jack, who had lead the Brahmin most of the way. He knew when he looked at her face that she knew they were close as well. She was not smiling. He stopped.

She reached his side and handed him the lead rope without a word. She turned to the Brahmin and waved her arms.

"Ho. Ho, girl! Ho."

The Brahmin stopped.

She turned back toward the hazy cloud of rising smoke. Her eyes narrowed. Without taking her eyes from the sky, she put a hand deep into her pocket and pulled out her eye patch. When it was in position, she looked at Charon.

"We're gonna take the Brahmin to the gate. I'm sure we can convince Simms to let them in for enough caps. I'll ask Leo to take care of them for the night. So we can rest. Tomorrow, I need to come out here and find a good place to set up a barn and pasture for these guys. We aren't leaving until I get it done. When we finally get settled in, would you mind taking that bag of stuff to Moira?"

"As you wish."

She nodded tightly and slipped the rope from his hand. Brahmin in tow, she made her way to the top of the ridge. He face was tight and she looked not in front of her, but a few feet in front of her feet.

Now, Charon filed in behind her, just to her left.

His employer was different than any of her predecessors. As they trudged toward Megaton, he speculated on her odd yet consistent behavior. In the Wastes, where there was nothing but land, space, and threat, she was jovial. She bounced and smiled and laughed. She ended the nights around the fire with stories of what she had seen or things her father had taught her. And she didn't wear the eye patch. But, when even the possibility of people arouse, the patch was slapped on, the smile disappeared, and it was as if she melted into the background.

She even acted differently toward him. In the Wastelands, even he would occasionally forget, if only for a moment, she was his employer. When they traveled he was simply her companion. She never asked him to do anything outside the occasional request for help. They talked, laughed, and joked with one another. An order was something the empty skies never heard her give. But, when they were "in town", as she said, she was absolutely no nonsense. In town he became her employee once more. She would give him short orders, never looking to his eyes for an opinion. In truth, he knew it was not out of cruelty or ego, but business. In town, she was all business.

They crested the ridge and for an almost imperceptible moment, she stopped and looked at Megaton. To Charon, the way her single eye was looking at the huge metal wall was the same look it gave an enemy at a long distance.

He tied the Brahmin to the post of the brass lantern. Jack was with Lucas Simms, standing at the gate, heads bowed in conversation. His eyes looked directly at the careful knots he tied in the post but, he watched every movement of his lips, every twitch of her eye. Megaton sang quietly with mid morning activity. The sun had not yet breached the rim of the metal was and the shaded city was still a little chilly. The smell of food, ashes, and cold, gritty dust permeated even the colors it seemed. All was the color of ash and cold bacon. In a way, it was the most beautiful morning he had ever seen in Megaton.

Beautiful isn't quite it. Primordial. That's it, he thought.

Jack was nodding now, a sure sign conditions were being reviewed. Charon was unsure why she felt the need to ask Simms pardon to raise cattle in Silvervale. After all, it was her and Charon cleared out the old school. It was now their primary stash spot.

But, he supposed, in a way he understood it. It was business.

As ludicrous as it was, Jack's talk of castles was not all talk. She had moved in at least thirteen new residents. It had been a hard sell, but after she spent a few weeks locked in her bedroom with at least 25 copies of old Dean's Electronics magazines and a poorly drawn schematic old Walter had scratched on a greasy piece of paper, she rebuilt the whole purifier. Charon remembered the 16 hour job of nothing but lowering tools, food, scrap metal, and cigarettes to her in a bucket. In between loads, he repaired the circuit board. It was one hell of a mess. And then to top it all off, she built the homes. They were really nothing more than one light bulb rooms with a stove, toilet, bed, and tub, but they were warm at night and cool through the day thanks to the windows Charon himself had cut and fitted with greased molerat skin.

"Fill it up will with people . . . Grow." He heard her voice whisper in some memory.

The Brahmin were secure and Charon stood. Jenny Stahl was leaned against wall behind the bar. Charon sat on the barstool in front of his employer's new herd. Well, it was more like squatting for the big ghoul but, he was glad the pressure was of his soles. Jenny bounced from the wall and walked toward him. She crossed her arms and spoke.

"What'd ya need, Charon?"

"A beer, a Brahmin burger, and a cigarette if you have one."

"Too early for the burgers, they ain't cooked, but we have hot Iguana Bits and Squirrel Stew. Here's a cigarette. Guess I couldn't really charge you for it. 'Less you wanna buy a pack."

"I'll take the pack."

"Five caps. Ah, hell, just two. Since we don't have any burgers."

Charon picked out 20 caps from his pouch. They shuffled into a quiet pile beneath his palm on the counter.

"Here, I can wait while you fire up the grill. I may be here awhile."

Jenny looked at the caps, not really counting them (she was calculating but Charon's caps were as good as anyone's. Hell, better than some. It brought no trouble.) She more weight them with her eyes and turned the corners of her mouth down and nodded. It was plenty. Pulling out the grill early would just give her something to do. Plus, Charon was a good shot in times of trouble and he lived in her town. Good reason to keep him sharp and happy.

"It will give them a job as well. They build the barn; I feed 'em, give 'em a few caps. When it's done, I hope to have enough head to keep a few of them busy."

"And the rest?" Simms asked.

"They can build. Billy Creel is actually a wizard with a hammer and nail. We build a few more houses in here, there's room. And even then, we have a few extra bodies. And them. We train them to shoot. Charon can do it himself. Who better? We can build a few more sniper points. Lucas, we can grow."

"Raiders'll look for that kind of thing."

"They don't look for me." She said calmly.

He believed.

"You are the sheriff of this town. You need more deputies. I got you that. You need more weapons. I have brought a steady stream of guns and ammunition in here for the last three months. We are armed to the teeth. You need more water, more food, more caps. I located another pump in D.C. I can build an entire new pump for this town." Simms raised his eyebrows. He was stunned though it was only mildly translated in his face. Jack read it there. "That's right. Water in excess. And the Brahmin herd. Don't forget that. Jobs and food. And when you have plenty of food, plenty of water, and plenty of people, the caps will flow. What do you think, Lucas?"

Lucas Simms watched the Atom priest ranted in front of the now dead bomb. A few of the new settlers were heading to Moriarty's, now under new management. He saw the ghoul drinking a beer at the Brass Lantern. The sounds of a few hammers were now beating, echoing against the east wall. He looked up to Moira's balcony and saw her pointing toward her top floor. Two mercenaries were hauling boxes full of parts and scrap. Their faces reflected the daunting task. The balcony had only one small path. The rest was stacks of boxes, generator parts wrapped in old tarps, motors, guns, ammunition boxes, and a forest of new shelves. In the brightening grey of the morning, the town looked suddenly changed to him.

It's industrious. It's alive, he thought.

"I think I have less choice than you let on. So what do you need me for?" he crossed his arms.

"I can't be the sheriff and mayor, Lucas. I'm too busy. I can't really be here like you can. Really, I can't do it without you." Her eyes twinkled.

Lucas was silent a few moments. His face did not change, nor did his posture. Only his eyes roamed. They covered every inch of Megaton. Finally, he sighed and looked at Jack.

"I'll need at least three new boys, if not four. They gotta know how to shoot and do what they're told."

"I think I can handle that, Lucas." Jack gave a small smile and stuck out her hand. They shook.

The moment she, the dog, and Charon were through the door, she threw it closed and slammed the bolt home. She leaned back against the door and gave hugely exaggerated sigh. She wiped a hand across her forehead.

"Home again, home again, jiggety jig."

Charon dropped his pack and sat down in the big white chair Jack bought specifically for him. She dropped her pack and joined him in her on her smaller grey loveseat. Dogmeat jumped into the newest chair, a winged red lounger. They sat and gave an almost unanimous sigh.

"Wadsworth?" Jack gave a soft shout to the second floor.

There was a clank, a whirr, a sputter, and Wadsworth was buzzing down the steps.

"How can I help you, madam?"

"We could all use a cold drink of good water and a joke if you're up to it." Jacked smiled from beneath her arm which draped across her eyes.

"Certainly, madam. What is the difference between a Raider and a Feral Ghouls?"

"What?" she squeaked gleefully.

"Ferals have decidedly better table manners."

Jack burst into gales of laughter. And it was real laughter. Charon raised a ruined eyebrow in her direction and shook his head.

"Thank you, Wadsworth. Fantastic joke."

As Wadsworth whirled toward the kitchen for the beers and Dogmeat's bowl, (was that whirr a bit more smug than normal?) Charon turned to Jack. She locked eyes with him and her grin grew to an almost painful size.

"Simms is on board. I told him I'd give him four deputies. You and I are going to train them. It won't take a week or two to teach them to shot half straight. Lucas will make them keep training. And now, Charon, I can build. Think of it . . . I really started something. It's really . . . gonna grow."

Now she sounded awed. Lost and awed in the glory of a dream. Her face was lit from the very bottom of her spirit, her smile was soft, and her eyes seemed full of stars. He watched her drift through her dream until Wadsworth returned with two cold beers and a fizzing bowl for Dogmeat. They drank in companionable silence, each nursing their own visions of castles.